Black Women Political Candidates Are Expected to Be ‘Likable,’ Qualified and Tireless. Men Aren’t.

What I experienced during my 2014 run for office wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to me.

The year before, I had run for president of the Young Democrats of America (YDA), a national political party office role, against a popular opponent. The opponent was a Black man, so race wasn’t a factor in the election; however, gender was.

Before my campaign, I was vice president of YDA and had heard only good things about my service: my fundraising efforts, the partnerships I had engineered with progressive organizations, and programming coordination for the membership. However, when I decided to run for president, I instantly became ‘difficult to work with’ and ‘mean.’

Research on women candidates confirms that voters are less likely to vote for a woman if they don’t like her; by comparison, voters don’t need to like men to elect them. But when I was running as the Black woman candidate in a seven-candidate primary for public office, with two other women in the race, I noticed almost nothing about my being ‘difficult’ and more about my ability and work ethic.

My experience running for public office reflected the systemic bias and double standards not just for women candidates, but Black women candidates who dare to aspire to any sort of political leadership—and that needed to change.

We need more progressive Black women in public office for a myriad reasons, but we also specifically need the younger generation of Instigators in office, candidates who understand the times in which we live currently.

Electing more Black women will take real investment in changing the biases and attitudes (conscious and unconscious) of mostly white donors, media, campaign staff, consultants and institutional leaders to help shift the culture and systems. But this support needs to be substantively increased so that we can rebuild an inclusive, multiracial democracy with the leaders we want and need.

(Excerpted from The Instigators: How Black Women Have Been Essential to American Democracy by Atima Omara.)

Black Women, Beauty Politics and the Power of Rage in ‘Is God Is’

In one of the film’s most surreal scenes, the twins at the center of Is God Is—Racine, “the Rough One,” and Anaia, “the Quiet One”—pretend to be strippers for a room full of men. But while Racine is welcomed, Anaia is rejected because her scarred face disrupts the men’s fantasies.

That moment crystallizes one of the film’s central questions: What happens when Black women refuse to shrink themselves for the comfort of others?

In Aleshea Harris’ Gothic revenge thriller, ugliness becomes both a burden and a source of power, as the film transforms into a stereotype-busting meditation on misogynoir, beauty politics and righteous rage.

As the twins travel cross-country seeking vengeance against the father who burned their mother alive, Harris layers the conventions of the revenge genre with distinctly Black feminist aesthetics. The film moves between absurd comedy, trap music, intimate sisterhood and brutal violence while interrogating the ways Black women are expected to manage their pain, suppress their anger and perform acceptability. Anaia’s scarred face and Racine’s consuming rage become mirrors of the same misogynoir that shapes Black women’s lives—whether through beauty standards, domestic violence or the demand to remain silent.

What makes Is God Is so striking is its refusal to look away from the “ugly.” Harris insists that Black women marked by violence, scars and fury still deserve visibility, complexity and even divinity.

The film embraces the “angry Black woman” and the “ugly” Black woman as figures worthy of space, power and humanity. In doing so, it expands the tradition of Black feminist filmmaking by asking viewers to confront the realities dominant culture would rather ignore—and to recognize the beauty, dignity and selfhood that exist beyond respectability.

‘Ms. Book Club’ Miniseries: Four Must-Listen Conversations on Black Women, U.S. History and the Law

Our podcast platform Ms. Studios has launched a newly updated miniseries: Ms. Book Club, examining the last 250 years of U.S. history through a feminist lens and asking what the nation’s founding ideals have meant in practice for women, Black Americans and other historically marginalized communities.

Across the four-part series, Dr. Michele Goodwin—host of On the Issues and executive producer of Ms. Studios—speaks with four leading scholars and authors whose recent books explore how gender, race, law and power have shaped American life from 1776 to today: Keisha Blain, Dorothy Roberts, Khiara Bridges and Patricia Williams.

Each episode features an in-depth conversation between Goodwin and the author about how their work reframes dominant narratives of U.S. history—and challenges listeners to reconsider what, exactly, America is celebrating at its 250-year mark.

‘The South Belongs to Us’: Voices, Signs and Scenes From Montgomery’s Voting Rights Rally

On the morning of Saturday, May 16, in Selma, Alabama, activists and organizers gathered near the Edmund Pettus Bridge before traveling to Montgomery for the “All Roads Lead to the South” national day of action protesting attacks on voting rights and Black political representation across the South.

The chants echoed through downtown Montgomery: “The power is with the people.” “We won’t go back.”

Driving the Vote for Equality: ERA Dispatches From Arizona and California

More than a century after suffragists Alice Burke and Nell Richardson launched their 1916 cross-country campaign for women’s voting rights, the modern Driving the Vote for Equality tour is again carrying the fight for constitutional equality across America.

This month, the Golden Flyer II traveled through Arizona and California—places shaped by immigration, labor struggles, border politics and widening political divides.

In Phoenix and Tucson, speakers emphasized that the ERA is not some abstract constitutional debate disconnected from everyday life, but something women and marginalized communities can rely on: equal protection under the law at a moment when hard-fought rights increasingly feel precarious.

When the Golden Flyer II rolled up to the offices of Ms. magazine in Los Angeles, advocates, lawmakers and supporters gathered around the bright yellow roadster to connect the unfinished work of suffrage to today’s political landscape. Carolyn Maloney warned that women’s rights are being “bulldozed over” through attacks on abortion access, voting rights and equal employment protections, while Rep. Maxine Waters urged activists to “keep pushing” Congress to recognize the ERA as the 28th Amendment.

Again and again, participants returned to the same conclusion: Progress has never arrived easily. It has always been built through years of grassroots organizing, coalition-building and persistence in the face of backlash.

The tour heads next to Chicago, South Bend and Lansing.

‘They’re Taking Our Humanity Away’: Kimberlé Crenshaw on Her Memoir, America’s Future and Why the Fight for Justice Requires ‘Backtalking’

For decades, pioneering legal scholar and activist Kimberlé Crenshaw has shaped the language we use to understand systemic injustice—from coining the term “intersectionality” to helping launch the #SayHerName movement.

In her new memoir, Backtalker: An American Memoir, Crenshaw traces the personal and political experiences that shaped her work, while warning that the attacks on critical race theory, feminism and Black women are inseparable from the broader erosion of democracy itself.

In this wide-ranging interview, Crenshaw reflects on Anita Hill, Clarence Thomas, “intersectional failure,” the backlash against Black women leaders and the dangers of what historian Timothy Snyder calls “anticipatory compliance.” She argues that today’s political moment—from attacks on independent journalism to the dismantling of civil rights protections—demands a more expansive understanding of solidarity and resistance.

“The other side doesn’t want us to feel empathy,” Crenshaw says. “They’re taking our humanity away, the thing that makes us humans and not a machine.”

Crenshaw also speaks candidly about the personal costs of “backtalking” to power, the unfinished grief that continues to shape her activism, and why she still believes collective action and moral clarity matter.

“One step forward can lead to five or 10 steps back,” she says. “When we see the forces of retrenchment coming on the horizon, we must pick up every weapon we have to fight against it.”

The First Mother’s Day Was a Protest

Far from mimosa brunches and hallmark greetings, the first Mother’s Day in the United States occurred against the scourge of war. In 1870, abolitionist and suffragist Julie Ward Howe who still had the horrors of the Civil War on her mind and was disturbed by the plight of war abroad called for an international movement of mothers as a way to call for peace and to protest the devastation of war.

History doesn’t repeat itself but it often rhymes. Mother’s Day comes this year as our nation and those across the globe are living with the dire consequences of a war with Iran Congress never authorized. The war has cost American lives as well as the lives of innocent children–including nearly 100 schoolgirls—in Iran. Former U.S. military officials have criticized the Pentagon’s strike and the lack of transparency around it. The president continues to threaten many of our global allies, as the rate of autocracies across the globe rise while democracies decline. All the while, costs continue to rise, making it harder and harder for working people to make ends meet. 

The only way this crisis will become a catalyst for change is if we commit not just to rebuilding our nation, but to reimagining it as a nation that can hold all of us and to demand that our leaders drive bold change to achieve true democracy and true change for the next generation. A nation where it is unacceptable for children to go hungry while others enjoy nation-building wealth. A nation where it is unacceptable to detain children and infants based on their skin color or who their parents are or where they are from. A nation where every person finds the courage to call out the cruelty. 

On this Mother’s Day, may we all be the mothers—and the fighters—our children need. If we don’t, who will? 

In a Small Room on Capitol Hill, Survivors of Epstein Refuse to Be Ignored

Last week, while much of Washington’s attention was fixed on the highly choreographed visit of the king of England to the U.S. Capitol, a very different gathering was taking place just a few hallways away. Survivors of sexual abuse and trafficking, family members of Virginia Giuffre, advocates and several members of Congress packed into a small conference room in the Cannon House Office Building for a roundtable convened by Rep. Ro Khanna. The event came just days after public vigils marking the one-year anniversary of Giuffre’s death and was intentionally timed to coincide with the royal visit, drawing attention to the fact that survivors continue to feel ignored by many of the institutions and powerful figures connected to the Epstein network.

The purpose of the roundtable was not symbolic alone. Survivors and advocates gathered to push for concrete political and legal action in response to what they described as decades of systemic failure surrounding Jeffrey Epstein and his associates. They called for enforcement of the Epstein Files Transparency Act, the release of millions of unreleased documents connected to the case, and passage of “Virginia’s Law,” which would expand statutes of limitations for survivors pursuing civil claims related to sexual abuse and trafficking.

For many in the room, this was also about correcting what they see as a dangerous imbalance in how the Epstein case has unfolded publicly: Survivors’ names and private details have repeatedly been exposed, while many powerful people connected to Epstein’s network have largely escaped scrutiny or accountability.

What unfolded inside that room felt urgent precisely because survivors understood how quickly public attention moves on. Many of the women speaking had spent years navigating systems—law enforcement, courts, media and political institutions—that they believe failed to protect them or meaningfully respond after the fact. With only a few minutes each, survivors attempted to compress years of trauma, coercion and institutional indifference into testimony aimed directly at lawmakers capable of advancing reforms.

How ICE Became the Enforcement Arm of the Patriarchy

Speaking in early February, while the nation was still reeling from the killings of Minneapolis residents Renee Good and Alex Pretti by federal agents, Jackson Katz, a leading voice in gender violence prevention and masculinity studies, and Loretta Ross, a celebrated Black feminist scholar and cofounder of SisterSong, examined the deadly ways misogyny and racism intersect in Donald Trump’s America.

The two of them had a nuanced exploration of how government institutions, cultural narratives and political movements shape—and weaponize—issues of gender and race. Their candid exchange critiques the forces behind U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement and right-wing populism, and challenges us to rethink empathy, identity and our strategies for building a more inclusive feminist movement.

Amid Escalating Attacks on the Voting Rights Act and U.S. Democracy in Crisis, Lani Guinier’s Vision Feels More Urgent Than Ever

Lani Guinier’s birthday was a few weeks ago. She would have been 76 years old. And as I find myself doing each year, I return not just to her work—which speaks powerfully on its own—but to the moments that shaped my understanding of it.

I first met Lani Guinier when I was 15, at a crowded living room gathering where she spoke with remarkable clarity about the Voting Rights Act, representation and the promise of American democracy. Even then, I understood I was in the presence of someone whose ideas would change how we think about power—and whose words would quietly set the course for my own life.

Years later, I would come to know Guinier not just as a towering legal mind, but as a mentor, an ally and, in her own words, a “democratic idealist.”

When her 1993 nomination to lead the Justice Department’s Civil Rights Division was derailed by distortions of her work, she refused to retreat. She kept going—teaching, writing, speaking and pushing the country to imagine a democracy where every vote carries real weight. Her belief that representation must be meaningful—not merely symbolic—remains one of the most urgent and unfinished projects in American public life.

That urgency feels especially sharp now. In the wake of the Supreme Court’s decision in Louisiana v. Callais, which has effectively stripped Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act of much of its force, the distance between the right to vote and the reality of representation has only grown. Lani Guinier understood that gap better than anyone. And she left us not just a critique, but a blueprint—one that continues to guide those of us still working to build a democracy where every voice is not only heard, but truly matters.