More Than A Magazine, A Movement
The Catholic Church is a religious organization with power extending into U.S. and global politics and culture, including influencing ideas and legislation surrounding sex education, abortion, contraception and marriage equality.
An excerpt from Allison T. Butler’s The Judgment of Gender: How Women Are Centered and Silenced in Pop Culture, published March 8, 2026:
While Sinead O’Connor was roundly criticized for ripping up the picture of the pope, the passage of time has revealed: She was right.
O’Connor was labeled a pop star, but she never saw herself that way. From Rememberings: “Everyone wants a pop star, see? But I’m a protest singer. I just had stuff to get off my chest. I had no desire for fame.”
Releasing the Epstein files without real consequences risks turning a long fight for truth into yet another moment of exposure that leaves survivors without justice and systems of abuse intact.
The majority of U.S. teenagers live in states that require parental involvement in abortion healthcare decision-making. If parents are unavailable or teens under 18 do not want to involve their parents, they must go to court and convince a judge that they are mature enough to decide on their own or that the abortion is in their best interest.
To avoid this invasive and burdensome process, resourceful teens are now turning to abortion care from telehealth providers located outside their restrictive states.
Under the Reagan administration, parental involvement laws proliferated as an attempt to restrict minors’ access to reproductive healthcare.
One of the most well-known, devastating consequences of these laws was the 1988 death of Becky Bell in Indiana. When Bell became pregnant as a teenager, Indiana had a parental consent law. Bell was afraid to tell her parents about the pregnancy for fear of disappointing them, but she was also afraid to go before a local judge she heard was reluctant to grant waivers. Believing she had no other option, she turned to an unsafe, likely self-induced abortion. Several days later, Bell was rushed to the hospital with a massive infection and died. Her death became a poignant symbol of the lethal effects of restricting young people’s access to safe abortion.
Centuries before the American Revolution, Spanish-speaking women crossed oceans and deserts to build communities whose legacies still shape the United States.
As anti-Latino sentiment coincides with the 250th anniversary of the United States, we must remember that long before the American Revolution, Spanish-speaking women inhabited territory that would become the United States.
Like their English Protestant counterparts in New England, Spanish-speaking women were founding mothers of our nation. Their legacies live on through their descendants and the many other Latinas who immigrated to the U.S. over the past 250 years. Faced with the widespread detention of Spanish-speaking women, it is crucial to remember that it has long been their country too.
(This essay is part of the FEMINIST 250: Founding Feminists series, marking the 250th anniversary of America by reclaiming the revolution through the women and gender-expansive people whose ideas, labor and resistance shaped U.S. democracy.)
When the archdiocese of New York announced plans to raise at least $300 million toward a potential global settlement with childhood sexual abuse survivors, headlines framed it as progress. For those living with the trauma, it landed as a mix of relief, anger, exhaustion and deep skepticism shaped by decades of abuse of power, institutional denial and calculated delay.
The story isn’t the dollar amount; it’s the decades survivors have waited for justice. They had to fight just to be heard by the very institution that failed to protect them and now must watch that same institution frame overdue negotiations as moral penance.
Any willingness by the church to engage in meaningful talks is better than silence, but this moment should not be mistaken for accountability. It signals the start of a process survivors should never have had to force through legislation, litigation and relentless public pressure.
A trans shooter in Minneapolis does not change the pattern: Most mass murderers are cisgender men. Change begins with acknowledging that truth. And then acting on it.
Men, let’s answer the call. Let’s urge Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz and Attorney General Keith Ellison to use their platforms to spark a movement of men to lead the way. Enough is enough. The time is now—before the guns ring out again.
When Donald Trump anointed himself the “father of IVF” on the campaign trail, he promised to expand insurance coverage for in vitro fertilization—a move that was more pronatalist than pro-choice. In February 2025, Trump signed an executive order to explore reducing insurance-plan and out-of-pocket costs for IVF without a national insurance mandate. Now, reports indicate that the “father of IVF” is walking back his campaign promise just as a religiously motivated “alternative” threatens to enter mainstream medicine and be codified into law.
That awkward posture isn’t accidental. When Vance spreads his legs and plops down for an interview, he is directly addressing young men. He wants to prove that he’s just one of the guys, while also issuing a dire warning. “The boys,” he asserts, are under attack.
Advancements in women’s rights have always been followed by countermovements, each one lamenting, “But what about the boys?”
In reality, the cure for loneliness can’t be found in calling your friends the f-word or finding a “trad wife” who will stay in her place. It requires genuine relationships. It’s about having your feelings valued but with the equal expectation of emotional reciprocity. Behold and be held. That’s the deal.
Guys: You all, like all people, deserve to be loved. The problem is, the messengers who claim to be your friends are lying. Those guys don’t love you. They love their power over you.
Millions of women around the world gained safety, dignity and autonomy over their bodies thanks to Étienne-Émile Baulieu. The visionary biochemist, feminist and fearless innovator—best known for developing and championing “RU 486,” now known as mifepristone—died at his Paris home on May 30 at the age of 98.
Mifepristone has saved countless lives and offered millions of women a way to end unwanted pregnancies in the privacy and comfort of their homes. Baulieu and others championed the development of mifepristone for uses beyond abortion—including for treatment of fibroids, endometriosis, postpartum depression and cancer. He supported its use in managing miscarriages and as a way to help to dilate the cervix to reduce the need for Caesarean births. His vision for mifepristone wasn’t just to end pregnancies but to protect women’s health and reduce medical intervention that too often harmed them.
He predicted in 1991: “RU-486 will make its American entrance: science, good sense, and freedom will triumph.”
And here’s his view on why there has been tremendous opposition to abortion pills from the antiabortion movement: “A method that makes the termination of pregnancy less physically traumatic for women and less risky to their health has always been rejected by pro-lifers: What they really seek is to harm and punish women.”
When Pope Leo XIV stepped onto the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica on May 9, 2025, survivors of clergy sexual abuse around the world looked on—not with awe, but with apprehension. His election, rather than ushering in an era of accountability and healing, has reopened wounds. Many had hoped for a papacy rooted in reckoning, but instead, we have received familiar deflections—denials of personal responsibility for cases that unfolded under his leadership in past roles. Rather than acknowledging institutional failures or the human suffering caused, he has opted for self-preservation over repentance, speaking in guarded tones that prioritize the Church’s reputation over the voices of its most wounded.