“Let’s paint a broader picture of who can make constitutional law than the one from Philadelphia in 1787. Let’s continue down the path toward a more perfect union. This Constitution Day, let’s spell out equality: E-R-A.”
The biases of poverty, sex and race have always motivated reproductive policing.
The U.S. needs a reproductive justice bill of rights—because without it, we continue to risk the gravest atrocities carried out with the official endorsement of the state on women and girls in the United States.
Arianna Neumann’s memoir, “When Time Stopped” (2020), is a mix of the daughters’ disinterest and feigned indifference, linked to our inability to ever really know and the refusal of our parents to tell.
“Holocaust survivors do not tell these stories, until they do. Daughters do not ask or search, until we must. And yet we know—students of the genre, as the genre—that all this trauma materializes in our families, in our genes, in our children and in our dreams.”
Karen Joyce Warren fought many important battles in her life, often centered around injustice and giving voice to those who did not have one. Karen called herself a “public philosopher”—one who believes that philosophical thinking is appropriate for all age groups, used in all cultural contexts, and relevant to both theoretical and applied issues.
Thousands of Americans of all races came from far and wide Friday on the 57th anniversary of the 1963 March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom for a slightly different kind of march.
“For so many of us, to say that the march was empowering is to make the experience too simple, too light. To be in one place with so many Black people of different hues, religions, regional dialects standing in solidarity and single purpose was life changing. For my younger friends, it also brought to life the photos in history books.”
As the U.S. celebrates Women’s Equality Day, it’s time to take a deeper look into sexist stereotypes, why female names are used when describing negative personality traits and, more broadly, why the language we use to refer to women is often derogatory.
“Growing up, I’d heard repeatedly from my mother about Maggie’s suffragist days.
“As I became a journalist and activist for women’s rights, learning about women’s history, I began to give my Grandma Maggie her due. … After all Maggie’s responsibilities were met—children born and some buried, wounds healed, dreams nurtured, meals cooked, beds made, clothes ironed, house cleaned, dry goods sold, church work done, besides marching for the vote, was she proud of what she had achieved? I hope she was. I am.”
Some schools already have banned students from wearing pajamas during remote learning. And dress-coding targets girls and women of color more than others.
Rather than disrupt dress-coding, the pandemic exposes who gets to be comfortable and what “comfort” means.
A momentous storm recently ravaged the Midwest knocking out power in my Chicago suburban neighborhood—including my home.
The status of women in the political sphere, workplace and culture in this country can be framed as a tale of power too—power won, lost and yet to be attained.
JoAnne Bland, founder of Journeys for the Soul tour company, was 11 years old when she crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge on March 7, 1965—a day that would come to be known as Bloody Sunday.
“To look at those kids out there trying to do what’s right and saying they’re not gonna take it anymore, brought back the memories of the ‘60s. And when police attacked, it really took me straight back to that bridge, straight back to that bridge. How could this happen? To still be happening 55 years later, how can it? … But [I pray that] those children don’t stop. Don’t stop ‘til they get it right. … I encourage them and I pray every day: Please don’t stop. Change will come if you keep their feet to the fire. Change will come.”