
International students across the U.S. are losing their visas without warning. For many, the only explanation is a dream turned nightmare—and a government no longer pretending to welcome us.
A few years ago, I went searching for Pauli Murray. By that point, the poet, civil rights activist and pioneering legal scholar had been dead for 35 years. But in researching her life for the book I was working on, I’d learned about the profound impact that her work had had on the very fabric of America and particularly on the country’s legal system. I was convinced that because of everything Murray had done—the extent to which she had shaped movements and laws and lives—she would have to be remembered prominently and publicly. It was probably just my own fault, I reasoned, that I hadn’t previously heard of her.
Like millions of others around the world, I have spent the last few weeks oscillating between fear, anger and sadness as I’ve watched the new U.S. administration neglect the core values of democracy and wreak havoc with the systems that have propped up this country for centuries. With no way of changing the mind of a morally bankrupt megalomaniac, I’m concentrating on what I can do. Since I’ve learned of her remarkable life, I’ve loved telling people about Murray; about the unlikely against-all-odds battles she faced head-on—public wars she waged while simultaneously grappling with her own often-debilitating private troubles. If the federal government chooses to ignore those upon whose shoulders we all stand, those of us who recognize the indignity of this will simply have to make up for it by telling their stories loudly, telling their stories often and then repeating them over and over and over again. It is, after all, what Pauli Murray would do.
I teach gender studies at Wabash, an all-male college. Our elective introductory course is always waitlisted. The students, mostly from the Midwest where sex ed is virtually nonexistent in public schools, are eager to study the biology and sociology of sex.
Most of my students know nothing about sex ed when they enter my class. But too many men like them—without knowledge about chromosomal sex, hormonal sex, gonadal sex, or intersex conditions—go on to legislate human bodies, define what is “natural,” and punish doctors who professionally advise patients on the best healthcare options for their well-being.
Although she won a scholarship to Mississippi State University, two hours’ drive away, Shamya Jones couldn’t get there because she had a new baby and no car. So she enrolled instead at a local community college, then transferred to the four-year campus closest to her home in the rural Mississippi Delta: Delta State University.
She planned to major in digital media arts, but before she could start, Delta State eliminated that major, along with 20 other degree programs, including history, English, chemistry and music.
“They’re cutting off so much, and teachers [are] leaving,” Jones said. “It’s like we’re not getting the help or benefits we need.” The cuts “take away from us, our education.”
That kind of frustration is growing. Rural Americans already have far less access to higher education than their counterparts in cities and suburbs. Now the comparatively few universities that serve rural students are eliminating large numbers of programs and majors, blaming plummeting enrollment and financial crises. Many rural private, nonprofit colleges are closing altogether.
Throwing trans and nonbinary people under the bus is a terrible compromise to the very authoritarian ambitions that liberals say they’re stepping up to fight. We need more love and support for people who are stigmatized and under assault, not less. And we desperately need more understanding of sex, gender and sexuality.
Let’s equip ourselves with the intellectual tools that will help us understand how would-be tyrants use gender to divide us.
You’ve likely read about New College of Florida’s (NCF) transformation from a bastion of non-conformity and progressive ideals to a “Hillsdale of the South.” This telling homage refers to a private, conservative Christian school in Michigan that prides itself on not accepting federal aid for students, which allows it to dispense with federal rules like following Title IX guidance on cases of sexual discrimination.
As an educator for over 20 years and a proud alum (1993-1997) of New College, the embattled public small liberal arts college in Florida, I think of the influence of education as rhizomatic. It creates an underground network of stems and shoots that produce new growth. It’s a nonlinear network with multiple pathways—much like a diaspora—one where each node is distinct but also remains connected.
“New College is a flashpoint for what’s going on. We’re a cautionary tale.” —Amy Reid
With Project 2025 promising to do to higher education across the country what DeSantis has done to New College of Florida, Ms. sat down with New College professor Amy Reid to discuss how the college has changed since the takeover, and how faculty are fighting back. Reid joined the faculty at New College as a French professor in 1995 and helped develop the gender studies program at the college. After the takeover, her peers elected her chair of the faculty, making her a member of the board of trustees.
The late Faith Ringgold was a feminist, an activist, a teacher, a mother and an artist known for her innovative use of mediums, ranging from the more traditional oil on canvas, murals and mosaics, to story quilts, protest posters and soft sculptures.
(This article originally appears in the Summer 2024 issue of Ms. Join the Ms. community today and you’ll get issues delivered straight to your mailbox!)
I have been a professor for almost 25 years and can’t imagine any other job. One of the most gratifying parts is being there for my students, but by June of every year, I’m tired. Especially after teaching The Power of Feminist Writing.
Misogyny induced pain and trauma shouldn’t only be acknowledged and validated in a gender studies classroom. The students and I should feel confident that *anyone* would believe our trauma is real. But we all know that is not the case, which is why many of us were sad to see the class end.