More Than A Magazine, A Movement
Two 50-something women, mothers and friends wonder: What will this next Trump era hold for our daughters and sons, our future grandchildren? Will the lessons and values we have imparted to our children enable them now, as young adults, to rise to meet the moment our nation faces?
In her concession speech, Vice President Harris spoke of an old adage: “Only when it is dark enough, can you see the stars. I know many people feel like we are entering a dark time, but for the benefit of us all, I hope that is not the case. But here’s the thing, America, if it is, let us fill the sky with the light of a brilliant, brilliant billion of stars.”
Hearing this after Diwali, the Hindu celebration of the triumph of good over evil, of light over dark, gave me chills.
Americans are picking their first president after the Supreme Court overturned their constitutional right to an abortion.
Now, two-and-a-half years later, with near-full abortion bans in 13 states, deaths confirmed because of them, and a smattering of states that have enacted protections via the direct democracy of ballot initiatives, the country has a choice: to reelect Republican Donald Trump, whose pledge to undo Roe helped fuel his first ascent to the White House; or to elect Democrat Kamala Harris, who is running on resurrecting abortion rights as she aims to be the first woman to win the presidency.
First ladies, while unofficial in title, have been unofficially tasked with hosting state dinners, advocating for social and philanthropic causes, and managing the White House’s image, without ever getting paid or recognized the way they should be. It’s a microcosm of the way our society still places these expectations on women in domestic spaces. Even though this labor is essential, it is often taken for granted.
Now, imagine a man stepping into this role. If a first gentleman were to perform these duties, it might force the country to rethink why these responsibilities were so heavily feminized in the first place. And even more so, it might make people question why this type of labor—whether done in the White House or in everyday homes—has been undervalued for so long.
Even as one of their own vies to be the first female president, even with abortion rights high on the list of campaign issues, even after more than a century of suffrage, some women still look to their husbands and other trusted men before casting their ballots.
The phenomenon is not new, but it could make the difference in a presidential race that is projected to be unusually tight. And because polls predict what could be a record-setting gender gap—with the majority of women voting for Harris and most men backing former President Donald Trump—the possibility that even a small number of women will vote like their men has Harris supporters nervous.
After Vice President Kamala Harris recently completed an interview with a combative Fox News host, pundits agreed she “gave a master class on what it means to be a Black woman in politics” by demonstrating cool, calm, effective leadership. The Grio’s Gerren Keith Gaynor noted she avoided the “angry Black woman” trope—a stereotype that not only permeates politics but has deep roots in the entertainment industry.
In recent years, a more diverse and empowering portrayal of Black women on the big screen has celebrated complexity and identity. For nearly all of its existence, though, Hollywood has been anything but inclusive, often illustrating one-dimensional perspectives of Black women. The history of inadequate representation—and certainly positive representation—helped form the “angry Black woman” stereotype, among other false narratives.
In her first appearance on the campaign trail since her electric speech at the Democratic National Convention, former First Lady Michelle Obama pleaded directly with men to take women’s lives seriously this election.
“To the men who love us … I am asking you from the core of my being to take our lives seriously. Do not put our hands in the lives of politicians—mostly men—who have no clue or do not care about what we as women are going through.”
Thousands of American women have courageously spoken in public over the past four centuries. Their speeches helped shape the beliefs, culture and ideals of America. But their voices have been omitted from American history, and our storehouse of common knowledge. The same cannot be said about the many lionized male orators who appear in our history books, media, and public discourse.
I know because when I give talks and teach classes in public speaking, I ask my audience: “Which famous speakers in American history can you name?” Many people can rattle off at least half a dozen American male speakers like Abraham Lincoln, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Martin Luther King, Jr., John F. Kennedy, Robert F. Kennedy, Billy Graham and Ronald Reagan. But when I ask which women speakers they remember, there’s a long pause. Someone might mention Hillary Clinton or Michelle Obama. Mostly the faces are blank.
Could it be true, I wondered, that the “great men” in history gave all the greatest speeches? Or could it be we just don’t know about great women speakers?
On July 18, the music video for P!nk’s new song, “Irrelevant,” dropped and has since been deemed a ‘protest anthem.’ She explained, “As a woman with an opinion and the fearlessness to voice that opinion, it gets very tiring when the only retort is to tell me how irrelevant I am. I am relevant because I exist and because I am a human being. No one is irrelevant. And no one can take away my voice.”
The proceeds from the new track will be donated to Michelle Obama’s national, nonpartisan voting initiative When We All Vote.