‘Who Will Revere the Black Woman?’ Remembering Nancy, Cerina and So Many More

Even though I did not know Nancy Metayer, my heart is utterly broken by the loss of her life and the violence of her death. The night before her funeral, I joined a virtual vèyè in her honor—a space to keep watch, to remember her impact and to hold one another in communal care.

That same day, news broke about Dr. Cerina Fairfax, also killed in her home. I did not know her either, and still, I was gutted.

Nor did I know Pastor Tammy McCollum, Ashly Robinson, Qualeisha Barnes, Davonta Curtis or Barbara Deer—Black women killed in just a matter of weeks. And to think these are only the names we know.

In moments like this, I find myself returning to a question first posed by Abbey Lincoln decades ago: “Who will revere the Black woman?” The reality of this violence—and the way it is so often explained away or softened—makes that question feel as urgent as ever.

Black feminists have long named the patterns, the structures and the stakes. And still, we are left mourning, naming and insisting: We will not let their lives be forgotten. We will continue the work in their honor—because we revere them.

He Called Me ‘Doc.’ I Called Him ‘Rev.’ Remembering Jesse Jackson’s Moral Leadership

I knew Rev. Jackson beyond the conventions. He married me and my husband, Gregory Shaffer, almost 25 years ago. He always showed up and gave graciously of himself when I called—whether it was to host a convening on HIV/AIDS at Rainbow PUSH in the early 2000s, or to bring together hundreds of working-class residents from the South Side of Chicago to engage on matters of national healthcare, or to meet with (mostly women) academics coming together to figure out the intersections of law, family and reproductive rights at the University of Chicago Club 20 years ago. 

He called me “Doc” or “Doctor Michele.” I called him “Rev.”

A week ago, by his father’s bedside, Rep. Jonathan Jackson (D-Ill.) and I spoke by phone. He had just delivered a speech at the National Prayer Breakfast calling the president to account—to be more humane and just, and to “do what is right.” It was clear that Rev. Jackson’s legacy is already living on.

Rest in Power: Catherine O’Hara Lit Up Every Scene She Entered

Catherine O’Hara—the beloved actor and comedian who died on Friday at the age of 71—occupied that rare position in contemporary screen culture: a comic actor, a cult figure and a mainstream star.

Her work spanned more than 50 years, from improv sketch comedy to Hollywood features and off-beat TV classics. Her beloved characters proved that comedy doesn’t require mockery; only commitment, timing and trust in character.

Her role as Moira Rose, the eccentric, ex-soap opera star in the Canadian sitcom Schitt’s Creek, created by Eugene Levy and his son Dan, became O’Hara’s most significant late career move. Written for O’Hara’s unique talents, Moira was a larger-than-life character with a bizarre, unforgettable vocabulary, dramatic mood swings and a wardrobe that became nearly as famous as the character herself. Feminist media scholars have noted the rarity of such complex roles for older women, particularly in comedy, making O’Hara’s performance culturally significant.

bell hooks Taught Us to Imagine Freedom. Universities Are Forcing Us to Fight for It.

On the day bell hooks became an ancestor, four years ago today, my beloved friend, comrade and co-conspirator Black feminist sociologist Shawn McGuffey and I were consoling one another over text when he wrote, “We should do something.” “Say less,” I replied.

We had institutional support from Northeastern University at a time when universities and other institutions were publicly and ceremoniously committing to funding DEI related initiatives in the tidal wave of so-called racial reckoning that occurred in the aftermath of George Floyd’s death. The first symposium took place two months later on a cold and clear February morning in 2022. This annual gathering became an important tradition that we looked forward to each year.

This week, we mark four years since the woman born Gloria Jean Watkins, a Black feminist writer, academic, professor and activist became an ancestor. But in 2026, there will be no bell hooks symposium at my university. Due to university wide fiscal austerity, we will not mark the anniversary this year in any official way. It is a tremendous loss, for our students and for our community locally, nationally and internationally.

As I grappled with my own grief over this loss, I had to also reflect deeply about what it means to be a Black feminist scholar in the academy today.

Trey Reed’s Death—and Its Swift Labeling as Suicide—Demands the Scrutiny Ida B. Wells Called For

Trey Reed, a young Black student, was found hanging from a tree on his college campus of Delta State University in Mississippi on Sept. 15, 2025. Trey Reed was a computer science major from Grenada, Miss., and a first-generation student, described as ambitious and eager to create a positive future for himself and his family.

Mississippi police and the Bolivar County coroner’s office have labeled the death a suicide. But Reed’s family members and other advocates, including Reps. Bennie Thompson (D-Miss.) and Ayanna Pressley (D-Mass.), activist and former NFL quarterback Colin Kaepernick, attorneys Ben Crump and Vanessa J. Jones (both of whom are representing the family), are calling for further investigation. 

Cases like Reed’s awaken questions rooted in legacies of racial violence in the South. “While the details of this case are still emerging, we cannot ignore Mississippi’s painful history of lynching and racial violence against African Americans,” said Thompson in the days following Reed’s death. That history is not distant: Mississippi recorded more lynchings than any other state, and the echoes of those crimes persist in how the deaths of Black people are investigated and discussed. The reflex to dismiss possible racial motives—or to declare a death a suicide before all evidence is known—reflects a deeper national unwillingness to confront the full scope of anti-Black violence.

Rest in Power: Jane Goodall, the Gentle Disrupter Whose Research on Chimpanzees Redefined What It Meant to Be Human

To the public, she was a world-renowned scientist and icon. To me, she was Jane—my inspiring mentor and friend.

Goodall spoke of animals as having emotions and cultures, and in the case of chimps, communities that were almost tribal. She also named the chimps she observed, an unheard-of practice at the time, garnering ridicule from scientists who had traditionally numbered their research subjects.

Goodall was persuasive, powerful and determined, and she often advised me not to succumb to people’s criticisms. Her path to groundbreaking discoveries did not involve stepping on people or elbowing competitors aside.

Rest in Power: Robert Redford, an Unlikely but Iconic Ally

Robert Redford, who died Sept. 16 at 89, was more than a Hollywood legend—he was also a man unafraid to stand with women.

In October 1975, Redford appeared—back turned, jeans and T-shirt on—with a rolled-up copy of Ms. tucked into his pocket for our “Special Issue on Men.” The image, art-directed by Bea Feitler, became one of the magazine’s most iconic covers, making a simple but bold statement: Women’s rights are a men’s issue too.

That appearance wasn’t a one-off. Redford consistently used his platform to support social justice, environmental causes, LGBTQ+ rights, and women’s voices in film—including through his Sundance Institute, which opened doors for countless underrepresented filmmakers. He welcomed the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements as a long-overdue tipping point, insisting that men’s role was to listen.

Rest in Power, Melissa Hortman—The Kind of Leader Patriarchy Fears

“I’m not sorry. … I’m really tired of watching women of color in particular being ignored.”

Over the weekend, the feminist movement lost a lion. Melissa Hortman, former speaker of the Minnesota House and longtime champion of reproductive justice, climate action and racial equity, was senselessly gunned down in a targeted attack at her home. Her husband, Mark, was also killed. 

Kelly Dittmar, a political science professor at Rutgers University-Camden and the director of research at the Center for American Women and Politics, shared on social media a powerful speech Hortman gave eight years ago, when she was the minority leader, on the House floor about the power of women’s voices. In it, she interrupted and called out white male legislators during a key debate—and when asked to apologize for her candor, she didn’t flinch.

Rest in Power: Étienne-Émile Baulieu, Abortion Pill Inventor and Women’s Rights Advocate 

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.”