More Than A Magazine, A Movement
As I write this, I’m in my third trimester, anxious and excited for my daughter’s arrival, which feels imminent.
Yes, it’s an extremely dark time, but that’s not exactly a historical outlier. People have been making babies throughout the worst of them. And nothing motivates me more to build a better future for all of us than this little girl—who, like every child, deserves safety, stability, love and care, and a world equipped to give it to her.
I can’t wait for her to see it.
For many women in the U.S. and around the world, motherhood comes with career costs. Can government programs that provide financial support to parents offset the “motherhood penalty” in earnings? Killewald with Therese Christensen, a Danish sociologist, set out to answer this question for moms in Denmark, a Scandinavian country with one of the world’s strongest safety nets.
In an article to be published in an upcoming issue of European Sociological Review, Christensen and Killewald show how mothers’ increased income from the state, such as from child benefits and paid parental leave, offset about 80 percent of Danish moms’ average earnings losses.
Weekend Reading on Women’s Representation is a compilation of stories about women’s representation in politics, on boards, in sports and entertainment, in judicial offices and in the private sector in the U.S. and around the world—with a little gardening and goodwill mixed in for refreshment!
This week:
—Republicans’ rebranded SAVE America Act seeks to expand federal oversight of elections and ban ranked-choice voting. Policies that appear neutral on paper can land very differently in lived experience; nearly 90 percent of married women change their last name, which means that the undue burden will fall on women.
—Women candidates win special elections across the country.
—Women gain majority status in Democratic caucuses in state House of Representatives.
… and more.
The Kikuyu are a tribal people located in the Kenyan highlands—a gorgeous region now dominated by enormous tea plantations, many owned by multinational corporations.
As the documentary Kikuyu Land spells out, the farms are owned by wealthy Kenyans and multinational corporations who seem quite capable of hiding their exact provenance. One such corporation: consumer goods behemoth Unilever.
As news of journalists being abducted and people being killed over land disputes filters into the film, Nairobi-based journalist Bea Wangondu tries to track down a representative of Unilever willing to address the allegations against the plantations, going so far as traveling to its headquarters in London. When those efforts fail, she seeks answers in archival records. But, as she digs into her own family and its claims to Kikuyu land, she discovers an upsetting history of complicity and betrayal.
The documentary is a gripping investigation with stakes that are both intimately personal and startlingly global, contrasts the arresting beauty of its geographical setting with the dark underbelly of its secrets.
(This is one in a series of film reviews from the 2026 Sundance Film Festival, focused on films by women, trans or nonbinary directors that tell compelling stories about the lives of women and girls.)
The first year of Trump’s second term marked major blows for reproductive healthcare. Medicaid funding cuts forced about 50 Planned Parenthood clinics to close throughout the U.S. and blocked 1.1 million Planned Parenthood patients on Medicaid from using their insurance to pay for reproductive healthcare. Twenty-three independent abortion clinics throughout the country also shut down in 2025.
Now, at the start of 2026, there are only nine states where it is possible to get a legal abortion with no restrictions.
Four years after the Supreme Court’s Dobbs decision overturned Roe, here are some of the key ways states are pushing harder than ever to end any access to abortion.
The latest batch of Epstein files—over 3 million documents, only around half of what the Department of Justice reports to have amassed—has unleashed a new cast of characters, a list that includes tech titans, health influencers, litigation rainmakers, university leaders, sports executives, Hollywood moguls and international royalty. None of the those named in the latest tranche of Epstein files strike me as people I ever assumed possessed particularly stellar moral character, and their collective fall from grace doesn’t shock me.
But what does turn my stomach is how pathetically small the price of entry into Epstein’s world appears to have been.
The expressions of regret now surfacing—I am ashamed, this is not who I am!—read less like moral reckonings and more like the lament of those who simply got caught.
The emails reveal a tawdry economy of access: absurd favors, crude jokes, dating advice, shared handwringing about #MeToo, and giddy acceptance of gifts—Apple Watches, Prada bags, monogrammed sweatshirts—that these already powerful figures could easily have bought themselves.
Whether any individual named in the files participated in or witnessed Epstein’s crimes is only part of the story. Just as telling is the desperate desire to remain in his orbit—often long after his 2008 guilty plea for soliciting prostitution from girls.
That eagerness to maintain proximity, for so little in return, speaks volumes about how power protects itself—and what too many were willing to overlook to stay connected to it.
In 2019, Jovana Gligorijević wrote a damning profile of a Serbian influencer who had connections to political power players and alleged criminal networks.
Gligorijević works at Vreme, an independent news magazine founded in 1990 by intellectuals and activists fighting state censorship. Aside from her political reportage, she’s covered stories on sexual violence and, specifically, how Serbia’s judiciary treats rape victims. She notes wryly that in her experience, “when you report on politics and human rights, sooner or later you come across the far right as the root cause of the problem.”
Other independent women journalists like Gligorijević that are critical of the Serbian government face sexual insults, threats of lawsuits, surveillance, smear campaigns and online rage.
Thirteen minutes is how long it lasted, and global superstar Bad Bunny—full name Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio—more than delivered. Set against pulsating Afro-Latin rhythms and brimming with the energetic dancing bodies of Black, Brown and other multicolored peoples, the 2026 Super Bowl halftime show transformed this historic moment of the first all-Spanish musical spectacle into a cultural reset. Now counted among the most watched halftime performances—with close to 130 million views—the Super Bowl was rightfully renamed the “Benito Bowl.”
Bad Bunny’s performance came just one week after he made history as the first artist recording exclusively in Spanish to win the Grammy’s top honor for Album of the Year. It arrived, too, amid escalating violence tied to ICE enforcement and the policing and deportation of Brown and Black communities. At a moment when the U.S. president is railing against diversity, equity and inclusion—and circulating virulently racist content targeting his predecessor and the nation’s first Black president and first lady during Black History Month—the cultural resonance of this halftime show feels all the more potent.
Bad Bunny’s dynamic performance is an affirmation of the same communities currently terrorized by state-sanctioned violence. At rallies and marches, people play Bad Bunny. In moments of grief and passion, people play Bad Bunny. His refusal to be silenced, to be forgotten, is an inspiration of hope and resilience for social movements. His music is music of the revolution, which was spectacularly televised in the middle of a widely watched football game.
A fast-paced Sundance documentary, Ghost in the Machine traces how modern AI’s obsession with “intelligence” and innovation is rooted in the eugenicist, sexist and racial hierarchies that have long shaped Silicon Valley and its technologies.
(This is one in a series of film reviews from the 2026 Sundance Film Festival, focused on films by women, trans or nonbinary directors that tell compelling stories about the lives of women and girls.)
The U.S. ranks as the 19th most dangerous country for women, 11th in maternal mortality, 30th in closing the gender pay gap, 75th in women’s political representation, and painfully lacks paid family leave and equal access to health care. But Ms. has always understood: Feminist movements around the world hold answers to some of the U.S.’s most intractable problems. Ms. Global is taking note of feminists worldwide.
This week: stories from Iran, Gaza, the International Olympic Committee, and more.