For as long as I can remember, one of my biggest fears has been getting pregnant. During my adolescence, each of my sexual encounters was preceded by an inevitable paranoia that arose from the question: "What if I end up pregnant?".

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Throughout this stage of my life, I began to ponder on topics that felt important within my context and sense of identity. What does it mean to be a woman? Why is my own bodily autonomy restricted according to geographical location? What happens to young girls and women who find themselves in a far more disadvantaged position than me, but who share the same daunting fear of unwanted pregnancy, and do not want to become mothers?

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My home country of the Dominican Republic has the particularity of being one of few in the world with a complete ban and criminalization on the practice of abortion, as established by our penal code in 1844, which to this day remains unchanged. There are numerous consequences to this radical, complete ban, including a high rate of maternal mortality – every two days a woman dies from causes related to pregnancy and abortion.

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Yet to say that Scarlet Girls is a film just about abortion would be a lie. The film delves far beyond the surface, exposing the intricate layers that exist alongside the severe restrictions on abortion access and the imposition of forced motherhood. Scarlet Girls aims to unravel the multifaceted truths, encompassing issues such as the relentless control over women's bodies, the pervasive influence of systemic sexism in women's daily experiences, the isolating burden of guilt, pain, and shame they are made to bear alone, and the transformative shift in identity when a woman realizes society deems her actions for autonomy as criminal.

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Scarlet Girls seeks to expand the peripheral view on the topic of abortion, to foster introspection and to encourage critical thinking. In a society where religion is, in fact, the opioid of its people, the act of questioning becomes an immensely revolutionary act.