More Than A Magazine, A Movement
What’s your reproductive freedom story? As part of Ms.’ The Majority campaign, five staff members at Power to Decide share theirs. The nonprofit works to expand access to sexual and reproductive health information and care; its programs include Bedsider and AbortionFinder.
“Until [the Supreme Court ruled married couples had a right to contraception], [my grandmother, Ruth’s] adult life was pregnancy and postpartum, on repeat.”
After generations of silence, menopause has entered mainstream conversation with remarkable speed, thanks in part to Gen X’s insistence and the emergence of older millennials navigating perimenopause. People are finding language for once-isolating experiences, and researchers and clinicians are paying closer attention.
But this cultural reboot demands that we ask whose stories are treated as authoritative, whose leadership is recognized and resourced, and who can access the care and knowledge being produced. Paid memberships, subscription communities, influencer content, concierge care, exclusive events and information behind paywalls are rapidly turning menopause into a marketplace. Who gains power as the conversation grows?
What may once have operated as a strategy for surviving racial terror has hardened, in many contemporary institutions and marketplaces, into an entrance requirement: Prove you are polished, palatable, professionally credentialed, “properly” gendered, sufficiently resourced and nonthreatening before your suffering can be believed or your leadership affirmed.
We are therefore being asked to interrogate more than whose voices, stories and activism are championed and pushed to the forefront. We must also examine whose knowledge is treated as credible, whose testimony becomes evidence, and whose experiences are permitted to define the full breadth of menopause. If legitimacy still depends on proximity to whiteness, wealth, cisgender identity, able-bodiedness, professional status or institutional approval, then the table has not been transformed. It has simply diversified its guest list.
(This essay is part of the latest Women & Democracy installment, in partnership with Black Girls’ Guide to Surviving Menopause. Menopause is not only a physical transition—it is also cultural, social and political. Recognizing its full scope is essential to advancing true health and civic equity.)
Many people will learn CPR using a flat-chested manikin. A 2024 study of 20 models of CPR manikins sold worldwide found that three-quarters were described as male or had no sex specified. Of the 20, only one offered a breast overlay.
The manikins reflect a wider tendency in medical teaching and research to treat the male body as standard. The terms “male and female” and “men and women” in this article reflect the sources, which often fail to distinguish sex from gender or say whether gender-diverse people were included.
The lack of female representation can have consequences. In a U.S. study of 19,331 out-of-hospital cardiac arrests, 39 percent of women who collapsed in public received bystander CPR, compared with 45% of men.
In every issue of Ms., we track research on our progress in the fight for equality, catalogue can’t-miss quotes from feminist voices and keep tabs on the feminist movement’s many milestones. We’re Keeping Score online, too, in this biweekly roundup.
This week:
—The Trump administration proposed a rule that would eliminate quality standards for the Head Start preschool program.
—Todd Blanche was confirmed as attorney general, after promising to remove abortion rights nationwide.
—Democrats in the Senate call out Trump administration’s attacks on Title IX and mark its 54th anniversary with a bicameral resolution: “They will fearmonger about trans kids until the sun comes up, but the fact is this administration has all but decimated the Office for Civil Rights at the Department of Education, leaving egregious instances of sexual harassment and assault, and so much else, totally unaddressed.”
—Kindergartener Liam Tadeo and his father, Victor Martinez Nieto, both Austin residents, were detained by ICE on their way to a soccer game and later deported together to Mexico after being held at the Dilley Immigration Processing Center.
—The six recipients of the 2026 Goldman Environmental Prize are all women.
—Voters in battleground states say it’s important that lawmakers protect access to reproductive healthcare.
—At least 152 ICE or CBP agents have faced disciplinary action or criminal penalties for violent crimes.
—Women make up 35 percent of non-acting Emmy Awards, matching the record high.
—Actor Anne Hathaway, currently pregnant with her third child at age 43, faced social media hate and rumors that she faked her pregnancy, after showing her bump on a red carpet.
—Florida professor Vinita Prabhakar was fired for assigning a “political” short story in a freshman English class. The story “Bettering Myself” focuses on an alcoholic teacher at a Catholic school and is commonly taught at colleges across the country. Prabhakar is now suing to uphold her First Amendment rights.
—Aisha Wahab won the special election to replace former Rep. Eric Swalwell (D-Calif.), who resigned after sexual assault allegations. Wahab is the first Afghan American elected to Congress, and will be on the ballot for a full term in November.
… and more.
In the Zambian districts where it operated, the five-year Saving Mothers, Giving Life initiative helped reduce the maternal mortality ratio by 41 percent. Its success relied not only on expanding healthcare, but also on building trust and ensuring that interventions responded to the needs of local communities.
Charles B. Holmes, recently named dean of the University of Michigan School of Public Health, spent four years leading the Centre for Infectious Disease Research in Zambia. He credits women mentors, collaborators and successors with shaping his approach to maternal care, HIV prevention and sustainable public health systems.
As the United States faces its own maternal health crisis and the Trump administration sharply curtails foreign aid, the lessons from Zambia and Malawi are increasingly urgent: Effective public health requires local leadership, long-term investment and the voices of those most affected at the table.
If you follow the mainstream press and social media, you would assume that Sydney Sweeney is an amazingly powerful 29-year-old woman. With her new hypersexualized ad for Novig, she stands accused of single-handedly debasing women, especially female athletes, and has, according to The New York Times, reversed decades of progress.
But if Sydney Sweeney refused to do the ad, thousands of other women would have happily taken her place.
It’s much easier to blame the individual woman—as we see in the media frenzy against Sydney Sweeney—than the real culprits: the violently misogynistic porn industry.
This is a story about choices that are not really choices. It is a story about impossible circumstances propelling us down pathways we believe unimaginable. You always believe it could never happen to you, until it does.
“Our last encounter was him trying to choke me, and me stabbing him.” Naomi sighs and leans against the passenger seat of my car, ending the story of the night she killed her abuser.
A grand jury indicted her for second-degree murder. A year later, she pleaded guilty to first-degree manslaughter. Initially facing five to 25 years in prison, her sentence was reduced under New York state’s Domestic Violence Survivor Justice Act to three years’ incarceration, with five years of post-release supervision. Even the District Attorney’s office acknowledged Naomi was a victim of domestic violence, which “was a significant contributing factor” to her behavior.
When the options available to her were kill or be killed, why was she even indicted?
We live in a world that punishes survivors and creates more victims with generous latitude inexplicably afforded to men who have proven themselves dangerous to society. It seems that the only perfect victim is a dead one, a woman who can’t talk back.
On Wednesday, Sept. 16, I testified before the U.S. Senate Special Committee on Aging at Congress’ first-ever hearing devoted to menopause. I am an attorney, advocate and author whose primary professional focus is menstruation, menopause and the law—an unusual sphere of expertise, I know. These experiences too often go neglected and are deeply deserving of public policy attention and intervention.
Menopause is a whole-body transition affecting women’s immediate and long-term physical, cognitive, mental and metabolic health. Too often, women navigate these changes without the support they need.
In the United States, about 1.3 million women enter menopause each year—roughly 6,000 per day. Yet there are only around 4,000 certified menopause practitioners across the country, and menopause care deserts are common, especially in rural areas and across the South and Midwest.
Menopause is an individual and collective health story. But it also is a marriage and family story. A career and economic story. An aging and longevity story. And most certainly, a public policy story. There is no singular reform that will respond to every scenario or address every challenge facing every woman in midlife. But a collection of proposals already on the table in Congress, under consideration at federal agencies and advancing in statehouses offer a meaningful start.
(This essay is adapted from the written testimony Jennifer Weiss-Wolf submitted to the U.S. Senate Special Committee on Aging for its Sept. 16 hearing, “Half the Country, Zero Hearings: Meeting the Moment to End the Menopause Care Gap in America”—Congress’ first-ever hearing devoted to menopause.)
Mainstream legacy media in the U.K. has found a new target: young disabled women.
Last week, Telegraph editor Poppy Coburn published “How having a disability became cool,” arguing so-called “sickfluencers” are “turning chronic illness into a lifestyle trend.” Just a month earlier, Times of London columnist Kathleen Stock suggested the disproportionate number of Gen Z women diagnosed with what she called “vague syndromes” may be experiencing “social contagion.” Both pieces cast suspicion on young disabled women and the ways they discuss chronic illness and use mobility aids, reflecting a growing strain of far-right rhetoric that treats disabled women’s accounts of their own bodies with suspicion.
For decades, Democratic and Republican administrations alike presided over a medical research system that routinely excluded women. The result? Modern medicine was built on incomplete science—and women are still paying the price.
It wasn’t until the NIH Revitalization Act of 1993 that federally funded clinical trials were required to include women. Yet changing who participates in research does not rewrite decades of medical knowledge overnight. By then, physicians had already been trained using male-centered evidence, diagnostic standards had been established, and countless drugs had already been dosed using evidence derived solely from men.
In 2025, the Trump administration has proposed cutting the NIH’s budget by roughly 43 percent (equivalent to $20 billion per year). Its broader HHS budget proposal called for eliminating or consolidating several programs supporting family planning and maternal and child health. Federal agencies also came under pressure to scrutinize or reject grant proposals containing terms such as women, leading to paused or cancelled fellowships and research on conditions such as uterine fibroids and pregnancy.
There are signs, however, that Congress may finally be beginning to treat women’s health across the lifespan as a serious policy issue.
On Sept. 16, the Senate Special Committee on Aging will hold Congress’ first-ever hearing devoted to menopause. Led by ranking member Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand (D-N.Y.), “Half the Country, Zero Hearings: Meeting the Moment to End the Menopause Care Gap in America” will examine the nation’s lack of menopause research, informed medical care and provider training—and make the case for greater federal investment.
The hearing represents an overdue step forward. But women’s health cannot remain vulnerable to political cycles. Regardless of which party holds power, it must become a permanent priority within American policy and medicine.