More Than A Magazine, A Movement
In Louisiana v. Callais, the Supreme Court has invited argument on whether Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act is unconstitutional. Put another way, the Court will tell us whether this civil rights landmark and its decades of progress in securing the right to vote are to be reaffirmed or cast aside.
Weekend Reading for Women’s Representation is a compilation of stories about women’s representation in politics, sports and entertainment, judicial offices and the private sector—with a little gardening mixed in!
This week:
—We mark 60 years since former President Lyndon Johnson advanced equal opportunity in employment.
—When women come together, share our strength, and lift one another up, the impossible becomes possible.
—In a landslide victory, Adelita Grigalva becomes Arizona’s first Latina to Congress.
—Of the four Republican House members signing the petition about the actions and allies of sexual predator Jeffrey Epstein, three are women.
—A record number of U.S. legislators won’t run for reelection next year.
—Hillary Clinton “sees a dangerous moment for women’s rights and democracy.”
—Akshi Chawla, who writes the #WomenLead Substack and is a valuable resource on international women’s representation, on the great question: “How do I get started?”
—The Marshall Islands, a rapidly vanishing Oceania nation, is led by the region’s first-ever woman president, Hilda Heine.
—Who was the first American woman to have an airport named in her honor?
… and more.
One of my international conflict management students at Kennesaw State University recently approached me with a question: How can they be sure that they are not—like the “white theory” dudes they study—imposing their own worldview on the Global South communities they are researching?
As a woman of color from the Global South whose scholarship and practice centers around decolonial feminist peace, my response to my students and others who ask me: Your whiteness does not affect the good work you do; however, not understanding and fully accepting this whiteness as it informs your work probably does.
Decolonial feminism calls for critically reflecting on our own role in generating knowledge (aka conducting research) within the academy, as well as the changes that our scholarship hopes to effect in the real world. When applied to our everyday practice, such reflexivity can minimize the harm we sometimes inadvertently inflict on vulnerable communities and violence-affected people.
Weekend Reading for Women’s Representation is a compilation of stories about women’s representation in politics, sports and entertainment, judicial offices and the private sector—with a little gardening mixed in!
This week:
—Sixty years have passed since the Voting Rights Act was passed on Aug. 5, 1965. The success of intentional policies like the Voting Rights Act grounds my belief that systems change is not only possible but necessary.
—This month marks the swearing in anniversaries for Supreme Court Justices Sotomayor, Kagan and Ginsburg.
—Detroit City Council President Mary Sheffield will advance to the general election this November.
—Women won nearly 20 percent of seats in the Lower House in Jordan’s 2024 parliamentary elections, up from 13.8 percent.
—Women hold just 8 percent of negotiator roles, 9 percent of mediator roles, and less than 5 percent of peace agreement signatories in major conflict resolutions since 1990, despite evidence that their inclusion improves outcomes dramatically.
… and more.
It’s tempting these dark days to dismiss the idea that any one person can make a difference. And yet, every day ordinary people fight injustice. And some days, those people persist long enough, resist long enough, that their fights rise to national prominence.
One such fight is chronicled in the new film Lilly, released in theaters this May and now available for rent. The brainchild of director Rachel Feldman, Lilly tells the story of Lilly Ledbetter, “an ordinary woman who became extraordinary,” in the words of Patricia Clarkson, who portrays her in the film.
What began as a hurricane recovery effort blossomed into a women-run collective empowering generations of Indigenous artisans on Isla Mujeres.
In the whirling, swirling hellscape of illegality and cruelty that is the current American political scene, it’s hard to keep track of all the individuals and groups demonized, deported and derided by an administration seemingly motivated by a Machiavellian desire for power that might make Machiavelli himself blush with shame. In the midst of an apocalyptic news cycle, one targeted segment of the population seems to be fading from view: women.
But let us not, as Abigail Adams wrote so many years ago, forget the ladies. “Remember, all men would be tyrants if they could.”
It’s tempting these dark days to dismiss the idea that any one person can make a difference.
And yet, every day ordinary people fight injustice. And some days, those people persist long enough, resist long enough, that their fights rise to national prominence. One such fight is chronicled in the new film Lilly, in theaters beginning May 9. The brainchild of director Rachel Feldman, Lilly tells the story of Lilly Ledbetter, “an ordinary woman who became extraordinary,” in the words of actor Patricia Clarkson, who portrays her in the film.
Unfortunately, Ledbetter didn’t live to see the film arrive in theaters. She died in October 2024 at age 86. “She was so profoundly happy to know that her legacy would extend in entertainment form,” Feldman says, “particularly so that young women would absorb the story.”
Clara Bingham, Jamia Wilson and Jessica Valenti on the state of abortion access and the feminist resistance rising up in every state in the U.S.:
“The 14th Amendment is what antiabortion activists are using right now to fight for fetal personhood. Anytime you see the 14th Amendment mentioned, that’s what it’s about.”
“We are no longer first-class citizens in banned states.”
“There are countries in this world where the pro-life movement is the movement that is about choice. … They’re surprised when they hear the framing of pro-life being used to dominate and control women’s bodies.”
“As terrible as things are every single day, in every single community and in every single state, there are rooms full of women, and there are rooms full of activists who are working their asses off, who are using their time, their money, their energy to make sure that if someone needs care, they can get it, whether or not we see it.”
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.