DC/DOX 2025: 'Life After' Probes the Dangers of Right-to-Die Policy

After a terrific experience with DC/DOX last summer, I made a point to show out for the women-founded documentary festival during its third incarnation this past week. In the context of major political upheavals in the U.S. capital and around the country, the content of the festival line-up was bound to prove potent. For the journalists and documentarians – self-appointed occupational titles that vary from person to person – who made bold strides over long distances or in the close quarters of their locales, holding truth to power in this setting was a radical act. Between volunteering in the theaters and slipping into lecture panels of industry professionals, I was kept busy during the run of the fest, but I managed to make the most of my access by attending several film premieres. In light of the filmmakers’ efforts and my disclosed involvement with the festival, I’ll forewarn that the discussion of the following films will not reflect a critique of their form, but an informed consideration of their subject matter. 

Content warning: assisted suicide and depression

The screening of Reid Davenport’s Life After was held for free on Friday by the Center for American Progress, a liberal policy institute. The film considers the topic of assisted suicide for people with disabilities, which Canada made legal in 2021.* Davenport starts his film with the story of Elizabeth Bouvia, an American woman with severe cerebral palsy and arthritis who fought for the right to die back in the 1980s, before intercutting contemporary accounts of peoples’ lived experiences with disability, including his own. Amidst campaigns by American state policymakers to ratify assisted suicide programs (known as Medical Assistance in Dying, or MAID), the filmmaker explores different facets of societal pressure on disabled people to end their lives, such as healthcare costs and narrow-minded interpretations of quality of life. Davenport poses the question on whether Bouvia, who was starving herself while living in a long-term care facility, “was fighting, or simply giving up.” 

*Note: the 2021 policy was an expansionary amendment of Canada's 2016 legislation, which permitted assisted dying for people with terminal illnesses.

Davenport contends that a deep history of eugenics is at least partially behind the rhetoric of the “right-to-die” movement. Despite the Canadian policy’s progressive and empathetic appearance – often referred to as “dignity in death” – even doctors can still harbor medical bias about what “quality of life” means. Loved ones might regurgitate these talking points if the person considering the option has been unhappy for a while.

The most damning intervention to my own perception of disability came from interviewee Sarah Jama, a Canadian disability rights activist, who explained that able-bodied lawmakers might become advocates of the policy because they are afraid of losing control over their own mobility as they age. Able-bodied people may then project notions of “quality life” onto those with disabilities because of normative body image and present-day built world offerings. To back this up, it was shared that feelings of depression were more frequently noted among people who became disabled later in life, especially in the months immediately after their traumatic episode, than those who were born with their disabilities (although I don’t know the exact research quoted in the film, this 2019 study in Nepal offers similar insight). Those who are born with disabilities, depending on their support circles, may fare better at adapting to these perceived “limitations.” 

Another story considered was the state of Wisconsin’s decision to let a 14-year-old with disabilities end her own life, prompting ethical concerns about how old one has to be to affirm that they want to die, and whether parents – and the state – are complicit in supporting such aspirations. Naturally, there is a lot of gray area: in situations of rehabilitation, high-risk procedures to “normalize” disabled bodies can wind up creating more pain. Other times, potentially beneficial surgeries may be discouraged because of triage or the perceived threat to the patient. The waters are made murkier by the matter of conservatorship and emergency contacts; Davenport makes no distinction between cognitive or physical disabilities, meaning that someone else (and in Bouvia’s case, the courts) may have to make the hard call on their behalf. 

The already eerie topic is made more unsettling by samples from MAID’s PR campaign, including glossy commercials and a TED Talk from the co-founder of the Canadian Association of MAID Assessors and Providers. As we know, the media has the power to set the tone for a topic, and newsreels of TV anchors discussing Bouvia’s “useless body” from the time of her case’s coverage are also provided. How to reconcile ableism and personal sovereignty? Ultimately, the statistics provided show that the number of Canada’s approved applicants for assisted suicide have increased every year since the program’s inception, with 622 non-terminal deaths in 2023. It was highlighted that one of these applicant’s only known conditions were ADHD and autism. If such cases are approved, where then is the legislative line against taking one's life? 

Davenport’s solution orientation instead encourages “dignity in life” – essentially an expanded welfare state so that those who do not have the resources necessary to manage their embodied disadvantages can still find fulfillment. Often, these comforts include living at home, having adequate access to the public sphere and mental health services, and achieving financial independence.* Davenport considers institutionalization, a solution once thought to help bridge gaps for people with disabilities by providing them with more personalized care and community, as a form of segregation, and therefore a generational trauma of state-administered treatment. If more private and public construction projects considered diverse accessibility needs, there may not be so great an alienation among those who feel like a burden for wanting to participate.

*Note: Ly Xīnzhèn M. Zhǎngsūn Brown, the Director of Public Policy at National Disability Institute who served as one of the post-film Q&A panelists, noted that American social security disability insurance (SSDI) poses restrictions on its users’ countable assets, forcing them to remain unemployed and even unmarried in order to qualify for at-home care benefits.

The film’s perspective that greater healthcare allocations will lead to fewer people seeking out assisted suicide is certainly idealistic, and a major divergence from the way U.S. federal policymaking appears to be headed. The most practical argument I’ve seen in favor of the policy is the notion that limited mobility or dexterity – compared to those who possess their full range of physical faculty – may mean an inability to take one’s own life without legitimate assistance. MAID for those with terminal conditions of six months or less is currently legal in 11 U.S. states, with Delaware as the most recent to ratify. The debate remains on non-terminal conditions – particularly as Canada’s program users surpass Swiss and Belgian numbers – but with Dr. Jack Kevorkian’s widely covered 1999 conviction for second degree murder still lingering in the minds of many, Davenport is likely to find an American audience sympathetic to his pleas. Just how that will be accomplished, bearing in mind the shrinking national healthcare system, remains uncertain. 

See Life After’s official website to request a screener or view it during its film festival run.

If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, please dial 988 (USA) or reach out to resources from the International Association for Suicide Prevention.

-Lydia