More Than A Magazine, A Movement
When cultural texts such as Severance show how characters experience and endure attacks against bodily autonomy, it can help make the threats more salient for viewers. Questions and commentary about bodily autonomy pervade Severance and are a key concern for protecting and strengthening workers’ rights in the real world. Yet, bodily autonomy in the contemporary workplace is under threat.
Even if retirement feels out of reach, younger Americans can’t afford to ignore the GOP’s coordinated effort to sabotage Social Security from the inside out.
The playbook seems clear: Take one of the most popular and successful government programs we hav, and break it. Claim it’s so dysfunctional that it has to be dismantled, perhaps even privatized as Republicans have tried to do before. And use a flood of lies and misinformation to convince younger Americans to go along with their scheme. In essence, they’ll set our house on fire, and then stand there with fistfuls of spent matches telling us that it was doomed anyway and “would you like to invest in a nice condo near Mar-a-Lago instead?”
A trailblazing anchor, Darlene Rodriguez reflects on breaking barriers, balancing motherhood and the privilege of telling New York’s stories for 25 years.
“It’s the biggest privilege of my life that people trust me with their stories, and that they would let me in their homes.”
By now we all know that President Trump’s various policies and announcements have targeted immigrants, institutions with DEI programs and several federal agencies, including ones that focus on media, libraries, museums and ending homelessness.
But one of the biggest groups caught in his crosshairs is older women.
Here’s the truth: Social Security is the foundation of retirement security for most American seniors, and the damage, especially to women, is likely to be severe. Women account for more than half (56 percent) of the total beneficiary population aged 65 or older; they are the vast majority (78 percent) of widowed retirees.
Front & Center began as first-person accounts of Black mothers in Jackson, Miss., receiving a guaranteed income. Now in its fourth year, the series is expanding to explore broader systemic issues affecting Black women in poverty, including the safety net, healthcare, caregiving and overall well-being.
“I’m part of the Magnolia Mother’s Trust this year, so that money will help me offset the lost income of going back to school part time. It was a revelation to be able to cover multiple things in one day that I would’ve had to space out for weeks before. I bought diapers, paid my car note and the light bill. That feeling of being able to take care of things has relieved a lot of stress. Before, it was so hard. I would cry in the shower so my kids wouldn’t hear me.
“I didn’t have paid leave for the first four weeks after DeMarcus was born. … That experience really opened my eyes to how important it is to have better family leave policies in this country. It is not enough to just offer a few weeks of leave. We need to support mothers’ mental health as well. Pregnancy care is focused on prenatal care, but there needs to be more mental health support. I went through postpartum depression myself, and it was so bad that I didn’t want anyone to see my baby. It takes a village to raise a child, but not everyone has that village.”
Medicaid is a lifeline for millions of women, covering essential healthcare needs like pregnancy care, elder support and long-term care.
Proposed cuts to the program would not only harm women but also ripple through families, workplaces and communities—driving up healthcare costs and deepening economic instability.
An Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) congressional resolution was introduced around Equal Pay Day, March 25, to highlight economic gender discrimination and show why constitutional equality is needed now more than ever to close the income gap between women and men.
Federal judges ordered the reinstatement of workers terminated based on their probationary status—a blow to the Trump administration. But for many fired feds, this welcome news does not mean a return to work. For me and most of my colleagues in HHS’ Administration for Children and Families, for instance, we will continue to receive our pay and benefits, but we won’t be allowed to work. One might think that this is a pretty good deal—but only if you don’t know federal employees.
Some of my colleagues shared with me their stories of uncertainty, loss and an unfinished mission to serve the public.
—My first colleague, a change management specialist, was nervous about rumored changes to the federal workforce, but buoyed by the encouragement of his mentors who said, “This is your dream. The way you light up, this is the thing we want in federal employees. Roll the dice, go for it.”
—Another, a policy analyst specializing in children’s issues, said she was living out her dream job. When she found out she was fired, she was on bedrest for a high-risk pregnancy. In a cruel twist of fate, it was Valentine’s Day … and also the anniversary of her previous stillbirth.
The justification is always the same: fiscal responsibility, foreign policy recalibrations, shifting political winds. But on the ground, the reality is much more cutting. When aid disappears, people die. Not theoretically. Not eventually. Immediately.
Aid is not a line item to be slashed when convenient. It is a commitment: to humanity, to protecting women, to the belief that no life is worth less simply because it exists beyond our borders. It is the difference between Judith finding safety and Nyamal being forced to return to her abuser. It is, quite literally, life or death.
Margaret Prescod, co-founder of Black Women for Wages for Housework, knew that raising children is hard work and that women on welfare are among society’s hardest workers. In a newsletter printed up by Prescod and Wilmette Brown and handed out at the 1977 National Women’s Conference in Houston, they wrote, “We don’t need more work. We need more money to work less.”
And after several days of lobbying, bolstered by support from delegates from several Southern states, the National Plan of Action ratified by the conference included a plank labeled Women, Welfare, and Poverty, which stated: “We support increased federal funding for income transfer programs. And just as with other workers, homemakers receiving payments should be afforded the dignity of having that payment called a wage, not welfare.”
The demand encapsulated in the Women, Welfare, and Poverty plank of the Plan of Action—the result of lobbying and organizing by Black, working-class and poor women—was perhaps the most visionary proposal to come out of the conference.