More Than A Magazine, A Movement
President Trump signed the Take It Down Act into law, a bipartisan bill that makes it a federal offense to share both real and digitally altered sexually explicit images of individuals online without their consent.
While the Take It Down Act offers a lifeline to victims of deepfake and revenge porn, critical blind spots, burdensome procedures, loopholes for offenders and a reactive framework threaten to undercut its promise.
The Trump administration has revoked executive orders encouraging the hiring of women and cut funding for groups dedicated to helping female workers enter the trades.
No judgment, but the women featured in Evie Magazine, a “conservative Cosmo” for women 18-34, are more likely than not to show off their breasts. In a nod to the tradwife fashion trend, milkmaid dresses with low décolletage are featured on young, voluptuous white women. An article making the case against body positivity and fat acceptance, “The Return of Skinny,” is accompanied by a photo of a busty white woman on a beach wearing a thong bikini. A photo spread of Eva Vlaardingerbroek showcases the Dutch right-wing activist wearing a gold cross necklace—along with her breasts falling out of a low-cut gingham dress.
To people with conservative views, only some women—those who look and act like ‘real women’—get the privilege of being sexy.
“Your body, my choice.” That misogynist credo is the crux of the blockbuster Netflix mini-series, Adolescence, the third most-watched English language show of all time on Netflix. The show continues to provoke debate about the impact of social media on the mental health of boys, in a world dominated by the manosphere, and its power to transform boys’ into violent misogynists.
Surprisingly, porn was the one missing element in the otherwise brilliant four-part Netflix drama.
The show centers on a 13-year-old boy, Jamie—a typical lad, vulnerable, like so many other young men, to the venom of online misogyny spewed through unbridled social media, chatrooms, blogs and podcasts. This angry ideology, masquerading as manly virtue, blames women for male alienation and promotes violent sexuality and the dehumanization of women—the very narratives of porn.
Speaking about Harvey Weinstein, Joe Rogan recently said, “I thought he was guilty of, like, heinous crimes, and then you listen, and you’re like, ‘Wait, what? What is going on?”
Podcaster Brendan Schaub added, “If this happened in the ’80s, it probably would have been thrown out. But in the #MeToo movement, it was a hot witch hunt. It’s 2025—that shit’s over.”
We are here to state unapologetically that “this shit” is not over—no matter how much apologists for predators want it to be. No matter how loud the voices of darkness are, no matter how much apologists for toxic predators like Weinstein may wish it, the progress towards holding them accountable is inexorable.
Feminist writers have long argued that there is an intrinsic relationship between patriarchy, rape and colonialism. The seizure of land by force is comparable to the seizure of a woman’s body—and historically rape and war have often gone hand-in-hand.
In order to get a better understanding of how Donald Trump’s attitudes towards women might be related to his foreign policy, I reached out to Dr. Judith Herman, a world-renowned expert in trauma studies.
“The rules are pretty straightforward: The strong do what they please because they can. The weak submit because they have no other choice. And the bystanders are either complicit or too terrified to intervene, or just don’t care. These are the same rules whether we are talking about international relations or whether we’re talking about intimate personal relations.”
An excerpt from Human/Animal: A Bestiary in Essays (out April 22 from Wilfrid Laurier University Press), Chapter 5: “On Catching and Being Caught.”
“I knew enough stories of violence to know that if I did not try and something happened, I would be to blame. … I went to the police station … The tall white man with a buzz cut who came out to talk to me was dismissive. What do you want us to do, ma’am? I wanted a restraining order. Unless our neighbors were caught in the act of trespassing, unless we could prove without a doubt that we were being followed, there wasn’t anything they would do. …
“The camera was visible from where they parked their car, no branches or shrubs hiding its location, its lens pointed directly at where they stood. … Their yelling entered through our living room window and took up all the air in the room. Since the camera only recorded image, I felt I was watching a terrible movie with surround sound, their voices not coming out of the television, but through the windows, bouncing off the plaster walls. … I didn’t want to watch them anymore. I could not stop watching them. I know you have a crush on me. You want to watch me. You want to look at me. I know it.
“This sounds familiar. When children are teased, especially when it’s boys teasing girls, adults will often use crushes to explain away the trouble. He is pestering you (or worse) because he likes you.”
Caroline Darian is Gisèle Pelicot’s daughter. Throughout the highly publicized trial in France, which ignited a global conversation about sexual assault and submission, Darian was a forceful advocate for her mother and for the rights of sexual assault survivors the world over.
An excerpt from I’ll Never Call Him Dad Again, Darian’s new memoir: “Our family has been torn in two. … I’ve heard nothing from Mum since Christmas. I miss her. I decide to give her a call. When I hear her voice, I start crying. She soon follows suit. Tears have become our default language, because what we’re going through is beyond words. Eventually, I manage to express myself: I want to be with her, to stand by her. We talk for the next two hours. At the end, we promise each other we’ll stick together from now on. And that neither will sit in judgement of the other.”
Harassment of LGBTQ+ people is at an all-time high, and the New York City subway system is the belly of the beast. But without clear guidelines from the NYPD, how and when should you intervene?
The legal battle between Blake Lively and Justin Baldoni has been messy. There are several players, including multi-billionaire Steve Sarowitz, who is furnishing near-unlimited resources for Baldoni’s legal and PR crusades, a variety of complaints in several courts, and misinformation spreaders all over social media. Coverage has been rife with misogynistic and confusing storytelling. Baldoni and Jamey Heath (the CEO of Baldoni’s studio) have made (profitable) careers out of being male feminists, and this battle endangers their carefully crafted public personas.
This piece aims to add context at a time when Baldoni continues to play his cases out in the press. It is for a court to decide whose claims are most legally compelling, but I am going to sketch out Baldoni’s feminism, the movie release and controversy, ongoing court cases, and Lively’s allegations and Baldoni’s meager responses—so that readers might find, as I do, that this battle actually looks quite similar to what happens any time a woman stands up for herself against a well-resourced man.