More Than A Magazine, A Movement
The future of mifepristone access is up in the air on multiple fronts right now—just five months after the U.S. Supreme Court rejected a challenge to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration’s treatment of the medication abortion drug.
Now, though, Donald Trump has won election to the presidency—and questions about what his new administration will do to federal policy surrounding the drug are front and center.
Iraqi lawmakers’ proposal to amend the country’s family law and grant religious courts the authority to legalize marriages for underage girls is being pushed by the country’s Shiite parliamentary factions, as part of their appeal to conservative voters ahead of the country’s October 2025 elections, if not sooner.
The proposal has sparked a firestorm, particularly after initial reports suggested it could allow marriages for girls as young as 9 years old. Some experts contend the bill could also further fracture Iraq’s stability.
Young women are the avant-garde of political expression online, developing expressive forms of political communication that collapse traditional distinctions between personal and political, aesthetic and substantive, emotional and analytical. Their approaches suggest new possibilities for political discourse that acknowledges rather than suppresses the role of affect, identity, and visual rhetoric in political mobilization. This piece draws from research presented in the authors’ new book, Not Your Parents’ Politics: Understanding Young People’s Political Expression on Social Media (Oxford University Press, 2024).
“If candidates can win by effectively feminizing their opponents, what does it mean when a woman enters the race?”
Drs. Jackson Katz and Caroline Heldman—longtime friends and colleagues—discuss the 2024 election, the “uphill climb” for women in politics and how political parties can combat the gender penalty.
From Latin America to Eastern Europe, election results have signaled the global rise of right-wing authoritarianism and a growing backlash against women’s inclusion in politics. Nowhere is this trend more evident than in Georgia, a small yet strategically significant country bridging Europe and Asia.
On Oct. 27, Georgia held pivotal parliamentary elections that many hoped would realign the nation with its pro-European and democratic aspirations. However, the ruling Georgian Dream party, known for its anti-Western rhetoric and led by an oligarch and the country’s richest man, Bidzina Ivanishvili, retained power through disputed elections. This occurred despite over 70 percent of the population supporting EU and NATO integration.
Although she won a scholarship to Mississippi State University, two hours’ drive away, Shamya Jones couldn’t get there because she had a new baby and no car. So she enrolled instead at a local community college, then transferred to the four-year campus closest to her home in the rural Mississippi Delta: Delta State University.
She planned to major in digital media arts, but before she could start, Delta State eliminated that major, along with 20 other degree programs, including history, English, chemistry and music.
“They’re cutting off so much, and teachers [are] leaving,” Jones said. “It’s like we’re not getting the help or benefits we need.” The cuts “take away from us, our education.”
That kind of frustration is growing. Rural Americans already have far less access to higher education than their counterparts in cities and suburbs. Now the comparatively few universities that serve rural students are eliminating large numbers of programs and majors, blaming plummeting enrollment and financial crises. Many rural private, nonprofit colleges are closing altogether.
The Equal Credit Opportunity Act (ECOA) of 1974 enabled women to get credit cards or a mortgage without a co-signer, making it a pivotal milestone for women’s financial independence. The 50th anniversary of ECOA being signed into law by President Gerald Ford fell just a week ahead of the recent presidential election, considered by many to be a referendum on women’s rights in a political climate still reeling from the revocation of Roe. That critical landmark for women’s autonomy was overturned by the Dobbs decision in 2022, one year short of reaching its own half-century observance.
By focusing on women’s independence through the lens of economic power over the last 50 years, a new Smithsonian exhibit—”We Do Declare Women’s Voices on Independence,” commemorating ECOA’s passage—hones in on another essential factor in women’s ability to achieve freedom, security and power: financial independence.
In Wicked, there are many parallels to our own universe: the rise of fascism in Oz; the vilification of a powerful woman (whose laugh some incidentally described as a “cackle”) concerned about the well-being of the most marginalized among us; a media enabling propaganda to villainize said powerful woman and prop up an empty shell of a man specializing in elaborate cons; and the failure of solidarity between women.
Part 1 ends with Elphaba’s ostracism from Oz, but the cinematic pan of her ascension in the sky looks less like tragedy and more like triumph. In times that require moral clarity, a perpetual outsider coming to self-actualization, freed from systems of power because she’s found her own, highlights that we have to look to different skies and different lenses to find a new kind of heroism.
Anyone walking into the bathroom on Capitol Hill Thursday morning found a buoyant dance party in progress: A group of trans artists and activists staged a protest in a women’s restroom in the U.S. Capitol, dancing to the song “Meeting in the Ladies Room” by the all-women pop and R&B band Klymaxx.
“It always starts with things that people feel are insignificant, like public restrooms, but it never stops there,” said Hope Giselle-Godsey, one of the Capitol Hill dancers. “We’re here today to ensure they understand that we will not be erased—one bathroom at a time—or shoved back into the proverbial closet out of deference to the comfort of those who speak to eradicate us.”
“I’m here to stand up for my kid,” Brian Williams told me outside the Supreme Court on Dec. 4. Williams and his wife Samantha have been fighting for their daughter—known as L.W. in the legal papers the ACLU filed to challenge Tennessee’s ban on gender-affirming medical care for minors—for years.
Though difficult to sit through, the two-plus hours of argument in United States v. Skrmetti—a challenge by trans youth, their families, the ACLU, Lambda Legal and the Biden administration to Tennessee’s ban on gender-affirming care for minors—was a nearly perfect distillation of this moment in our gender politics.