I Put My Career on Hold to Raise Five Children and Care for My Disabled Mother. America Depends on Women Like Me.

Front & Center amplifies the voices of Black women navigating poverty—highlighting their struggles, resilience and dreams as they care for their families, build careers and challenge systems not built for their success. Now in its fourth year, Front & Center is a collaboration between Ms. and Springboard to Opportunities, a nonprofit based in Jackson, Miss., working alongside residents of federally subsidized housing as they pursue their goals.

Christy is a Jackson, Miss.-based mother of five, family caregiver and entrepreneur. She is caring for her disabled mother while pursuing her dream of one day growing her catering business into a food truck.

“Taking care of my children and my mom at the same time is rewarding, but it is also hard. I really don’t get much help with my kids from their dad, so most of the time I’m here with them.

“What would make caregiving for two generations of family easier, is a break. If my mom had places to go, or if somebody could take her every other weekend or even every weekend sometimes, that would give me time to myself to breathe and live a little bit. My siblings are far away, my car situation makes it hard to get around and I’m always here, so having a little peace would help me and my kids too.

“Childcare vouchers … helped a lot with after-school care and transportation, but when I recently had to recertify, I was cut off because I missed getting a copy of my ID in by the deadline and ended up on a waiting list.”

The Myth of the ‘Perfect Birth’: What America Gets Wrong About Pregnancy, Birth and Maternal Care

Project 2026’s pronatalist vision insists that America needs more babies—but largely ignores the conditions that make pregnancy and childbirth unnecessarily dangerous in the first place. In this interview with Ms., The Perfect Birth Myth co-authors Avital Norman Nathman and Deborah Wage argue that improving maternal health requires more than rhetoric about “family values.” It demands investments in midwives, doulas, paid family leave, prenatal and postpartum care, and policies that address the racial and economic inequities driving the nation’s maternal mortality crisis.

Drawing on surveys of nearly 3,000 parents and healthcare providers, Nathman and Wage dismantle persistent myths about birth while exposing the structural failures of the U.S. maternity care system—from hospital closures and Medicaid cuts to the medical establishment’s resistance to alternative models of care. They explain why Black women continue to face disproportionately poor outcomes regardless of income or education, why conservative pronatalist policies fall short, and what it would take to build a maternal healthcare system that truly supports families.

Why Attacks on Immigrant Communities Are Reproductive Justice Issues

“It’s hell.”

That’s how our colleague, Miri, described her months-long detention in the Rio Grande Valley, Texas, last year, separated from her husband and four children. Food was inedible, medications were inaccessible and women were forced to share beds and blankets due to overcrowding. She witnessed guards sexually assault women and conduct invasive strip searches. Pregnant and breastfeeding people were neglected: One new mother suffered from mastitis, while another woman in labor was ignored for hours before being taken to a hospital. 

These horrors, perpetrated by immigration enforcement officers, are exactly what the federal government approved billions to fund this summer. 

Reproductive justice is often reduced to abortion rights. But the movement has always taken a broader view. Created by 12 Black women organizers, the reproductive justice framework is about the right to have—or to not have—children and the right to raise them in safe, healthy communities. Detentions, deportations and disruption of care are part of a broader effort to limit who can fully belong, safely build a family and have rights in the United States. 

So who deserves safety and belonging in the U.S.? 

Poems Wherein the Bullet Speaks: A Review of Heidi Kasa’s ‘The Bullet Takes Forever’

Consider the title of Heidi Kasa’s first book of poetry, published by Mouthfeel Press: The Bullet Takes Forever. In seven syllables, Kasa’s title conjures a wide swath of loss, both vertical and horizontal, the catastrophic consequences of gun violence, robbing us of time and life itself.

The way the title lands is a fine indicator of the way Kasa’s poems will strike the courageous reader, the reader willing to dwell for a time in this space dedicated to examining violence, often delivered upon the most vulnerable among us.

Reading these poems, I realized how little narrative Kasa actually needs to provide. We already know the story. We have lived it, watched it unfold again and again in schools and communities across this country. At a moment when the Trump administration is rolling back gun regulations, Kasa’s poems remind me that policy debates can never capture what violence leaves behind: grief, fear and lives forever altered. Her collection asks us not simply to read, but to remember.

“Back to School Shopping List

“1. backpack (big enough to hide behind)
“2. notebook (for reunification records)”
“7. spelling test (words: tourniquet, instructions, wound, direct, manual, pressure).”

I’ve Spent My Life Caring for Others. Who Cares for Caregivers?

Front & Center amplifies the voices of Black women navigating poverty—highlighting their struggles, resilience and dreams as they care for their families, build careers and challenge systems not built for their success. Now in its fourth year, Front & Center is a collaboration between Ms. and Springboard to Opportunities, a nonprofit based in Jackson, Miss., working alongside residents of federally subsidized housing as they pursue their goals.

“I have always been a caregiver. That’s just who I am.

“I care for my grandkids now—three of them, ages 6, 3 and 7 months—and I’ve cared for a lot of family members over the years. My daughter works at the post office, so I watch the children when she’s at work, when they get out of school and sometimes at night if she needs me. They keep me on my toes, but I love every minute of it.

“Before that, I cared for my grandmother, who raised me. And that was tough, because this was when I had just had my own kids. They were going to a sitter so that I could go and care for her. She had cancer and I had to learn how to help her with everything, including her colostomy bag.

“People act like it’s simple, but it’s not. It costs money. It takes time. And when the people who need care also have to work, that puts families in a tight spot. My daughter looked into daycare, and it was expensive. So she asked me to help, and then she paid me. That worked better for all of us.

“Getting guaranteed income helped me too. It gave me some breathing room. I was able to help with gas, help around the house and take care of little things that come up. That kind of support matters because caregiving does not stop just because the bills keep coming.

“I still believe in taking care of people. Babies can’t help themselves. Kids can’t help themselves. Older adults can’t either. We all get to a point where we need somebody. So I keep doing what I do, because this is my purpose. I care for my people, and I do it with love.”

The United States Is No Country for Mothers. (Not Yet.)

For 250 years, America has asked mothers to carry the weight of families, communities and the economy while offering little in return. We celebrate motherhood rhetorically, but our policies tell a different story: unaffordable childcare, inadequate paid leave and a culture that blames women for structural failures. In this essay, I argue that these conditions are not accidental—they are the result of political choices that have excluded mothers from full participation in economic and civic life.

If we are serious about building a stronger democracy for the next 250 years, we must start with childcare. Universal, affordable childcare is not a fringe idea; it is the foundation that makes equal pay, workforce participation, political engagement and family well-being possible. States like New Mexico and New York are already demonstrating what can happen when leaders treat care as public infrastructure rather than a private burden.

The good news is that mothers are increasingly refusing to be divided by the same culture wars that have stalled progress for generations. Across political lines, families want the same basic thing: the ability to work, raise children and participate fully in their communities without being pushed to the breaking point. The future of American democracy depends on whether we finally build a country that works for mothers.

(This is part of a new miniseries FEMINIST 250: Democracy’s Feminist Future, a special Ms. series examining the next chapter of American democracy through a feminist lens. As the nation approaches its 250th anniversary, the series explores how women and marginalized communities have shaped democratic progress, what lessons history offers for the challenges ahead, and how a more inclusive, representative and equitable democracy can be built for the next 250 years.)

A Visual Depiction of Lactation Rooms in the U.S.: Inside the Spaces Where Mothers Pump

My latest book Milk Factory is the first visual study of America’s lactation rooms. Photographing spaces where mothers pump—disparate sites such as a prison, corporate offices, a farm laborer’s tent, schools, an airport and the U.S. Capitol—I reveal the hidden architecture of care. I wanted to give participants a record of their labor and make that labor visible to others.

Born out of my own experience, Milk Factory is personal and political. It challenges romanticized portrayals of motherhood and breastfeeding, underscoring the complexity and labor behind an act that is widely expected but rarely supported.

What if Women Really Went Back? Viral Thriller ‘Yesteryear’ Deconstructs the Dark Side of Tradwife Culture

What if women really went back? That question sits at the center of Caro Claire Burke’s 2026 debut novel and viral summer read Yesteryear.

At a moment when tradwife influencers are building massive audiences by romanticizing domesticity, submission and “traditional” gender roles, Burke asks readers to imagine what life inside those arrangements actually looks like for the women who lived them—and what rights and freedoms were sacrificed along the way.

Yesteryear follows wealthy, polished (at least on the outside) tradwife influencer Natalie Heller Mills, who has built a carefully curated online brand around nostalgic femininity. But as the fantasy unravels, Burke exposes the gap between aestheticized womanhood and women’s lived experience.

How One Haitian Mother Rebuilt Her Life After Gang Violence—with Courage, Determination, Enterprise and a Small Loan

Over the past 25 years, I have had the privilege of working alongside communities in Haiti, traveling there 35 times through my work with the Raising Haiti Foundation. I have met many people like Mirlanda Sully—women and men whose resilience, dignity and determination challenge the way we understand hardship. Her story is extraordinary, but it is not unique.

After armed gangs overtook her hometown, Sully fled with her husband and young son, leaving behind their home, business and possessions.

Arriving in a remote mountain community with nothing, she rebuilt her life through a women-focused microcredit program that provided small loans, business training and a network of support.

Today, she runs a thriving market business, mentors other women and helps ensure her neighbors can access essential goods closer to home.

Again and again, I have seen that lasting change does not come from outside solutions. It comes from investing in the strength, ingenuity and leadership that already exist within communities.

Sully’s story is a powerful reminder that transformation often begins with something small—a loan, an opportunity, a belief in what women can accomplish when given the tools to succeed.

91% of Voters Support a National Paid Leave Program. How Do We Make It Happen?

The United States is one of only seven countries lacking a federal mandate for paid maternal or family leave. Within the country, only 13 states and D.C. have paid family and medical leave programs, acting as a lifeline for families.

Often considered by lawmakers to be a program too expensive to start, it’s the cost of inaction that lawmakers should be concerned with, according to Dawn Huckelbridge, executive producer of a new short film Lifelines and founding director of Paid Leave for All. 

“A lot of people miss their baby’s first smile. … They’re not there to hold their parent’s hand because they can’t get the time off work. … However it is funded in the long run, it is putting money back into the economy. It is saving jobs.”