Federal Civil Rights Protections for Students Are Being Hollowed Out

At least 25,000 unresolved civil rights complaints involving race, gender and disability discrimination are currently stalled as the Trump administration moves to dismantle the Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights—leaving students in K-12 schools and colleges with few viable paths to federal protection.

At the same time, new Title IX guidance has shifted federal priorities away from survivors of sexual violence and toward expanded due-process protections for the accused—further eroding accountability in school environments already struggling to respond to gender-based harm.

Taken together, these changes represent a sweeping redefinition of equal access to education—one that disproportionately harms women, students of color, disabled students and survivors of sexual assault.

Last semester, after I published a piece in Ms. critiquing Charlie Kirk and violent masculinity, South Carolina politicians—including Lt. Gov. Pamela Evette and Rep. Ralph Norman—publicly suggested I should be fired. In a climate where ideologically driven attacks on funding and governance threaten the very survival of colleges and universities, I ultimately resigned my full professorship. The message from state lawmakers was unmistakable: Even private institutions are no longer insulated from direct government interference, regardless of stated commitments to academic freedom.

After Decades of Institutional Silence, Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse Deserve More Than the Catholic Church’s PR

When the archdiocese of New York announced plans to raise at least $300 million toward a potential global settlement with childhood sexual abuse survivors, headlines framed it as progress. For those living with the trauma, it landed as a mix of relief, anger, exhaustion and deep skepticism shaped by decades of abuse of power, institutional denial and calculated delay. 

The story isn’t the dollar amount; it’s the decades survivors have waited for justice. They had to fight just to be heard by the very institution that failed to protect them and now must watch that same institution frame overdue negotiations as moral penance. 

Any willingness by the church to engage in meaningful talks is better than silence, but this moment should not be mistaken for accountability. It signals the start of a process survivors should never have had to force through legislation, litigation and relentless public pressure. 

The Trump Administration’s Full-Throated Misogyny

“Disrespectful. “Fucking bitch.” “AWFUL (Affluent White Female Urban Liberal).”

These are just a few of the insults hurled publicly at Minneapolis mother and wife Renee Nicole Good after immigration agent Jonathan Ross shot and killed her in broad daylight last week. In an effort to deflect and redirect blame, President Donald Trump, Vice President JD Vance and Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem are among the administration officials who took to the airwaves to degrade and ridicule Good, their claims ricocheting across the MAGA echo chamber.

The only civilized political response should have been a call for an independent investigation, but it seems like every MAGA with a mic is hellbent on making this a cautionary tale: Women who respond to and resist the authority of a man with a gun will get exactly what they deserve. “Fucking bitch,” possibly muttered by Ross as he let bullets fly (caught on air thanks to real-time video footage), is perhaps the most grotesque case in point.

The Cost of Treating Immigration as a War

On Jan. 7, 2026, Renee Macklin Good became the latest person to die because of Donald Trump’s brutal immigration agenda.

She is not the first to lose her life at the hands of immigration enforcement agents—362 people have died during encounters with CBP since 2010. Nor will she be the last, unless we take action to dismantle the power and authority given to ICE and CBP over the last year.

When state-sanctioned violent tactics are used alongside recruitment campaigns encouraging new hires to protect the homeland and help decide who will live in this country; questionable training; and administration rhetoric that comes out of the nationalist movements of the 1930s and ’40s; violence against innocent people—regardless of race or nationality—is inevitable.

As Jennifer Mascia wrote for The Trace: “… Where immigration agents have gone, gun violence has usually followed.”

We Know What We Saw in Minneapolis

For women who recognize the dynamics of abuse, the killing of Renee Nicole Good—and the official response to it—follows a chillingly familiar script.

To me, she doesn’t seem to be agitating or obstructing—she appears to wave the ICE vehicles through before masked men emerge from one van, bellowing, “Get out of the fucking car!” She seems to be a scared woman trying to flee violent men, a scenario that resonates acutely with me and many other survivors.

What followed was an Orwellian schema that every abuse victim will instantly recognize: Deny. Attack. Reverse victim and offender. With impunity. 

How the Trump Administration Used a National Guard Tragedy to Accelerate Its Anti-Immigrant Agenda

Months before the lives of West Virginia National Guard Specialist Sarah Berkstrom and Afghan asylee Rahmanullah Lakanwal collided, the Trump administration planned to bring immigration to a halt from countries like Afghanistan, Somalia, and other nations that supposedly threaten American values. When Lakanwal was charged with first-degree murder in Berkstrom’s Nov. 26 death, the administration seized on this tragedy to redouble its rhetoric against Afghans and others and to usher in the next round of immigration restrictions.

As Spojmie Nasiri, an Afghan American immigration attorney points out, “They are using the tragedy to enact the agenda that they already had.”

She Was an Antiabortion Poster Child. Now She’s a Reproductive Freedom Activist.

At the age of 15, Charlotte Isenberg took to social media to process complicated feelings about a miscarriage after alleged sexual abuse. That was what first brought her to the attention of antiabortion groups.

“Almost immediately, anti-abortion actors threaded a narrative for me between my grief, my miscarriage and anti-abortion sentiment. I clung to it with desperation,” Isenberg wrote.

Feeling isolated from peers due to both her traumatic experiences and the COVID-19 pandemic, Isenberg found a sense of belonging in these online spaces.

But in May 2024, at age 20, Isenberg says her birth control failed, and she became pregnant for the second time. The timing was devastating: She was unemployed, without stable housing or transportation, and preparing to relocate for college—the first in her family to access higher education. 

When she couldn’t find adequate support for her unplanned pregnancy, Isenberg scheduled an appointment at her local Planned Parenthood for an abortion consultation, unsure of what she would ultimately decide. Another prominent antiabortion activist, one of Isenberg’s best friends in the movement, found out about her appointment; she and other members of the group intervened aggressively.

Despite this pressure, Isenberg was able to make the decision that was best for her and her body. Since her own abortion, she’s become a reproductive freedom activist, educating others about extremist antiabortion tactics and promoting systemic protections for people navigating reproductive healthcare. 

For Women Spending the Holidays in Prison or a Shelter, You Can Make a Difference

Women and girls are the fastest growing incarcerated population in the United States today. The women now in prison are often there because of circumstances that might have put you or me there, too. 

We at Ms. magazine want women in prison to know they are seen and valued. And because domestic violence shelters can be almost as isolating as prisons—and often lack reading material, just as many prisons do—we want to support women in those shelters, too. 

For a tax-deductible donation of just $30, you can help send Ms. to a woman in prison or a domestic violence shelter for a year. And for just $10 more ($40 total), you can get a year’s worth of Ms. for yourself as well.

A Feminist Historian’s Year-End Reading and Viewing Guide

As the year winds down, I find myself returning—as I always do—to the stories, performances and ideas that have shaped my teaching and thinking. Feminism’s past is never really past; it’s a living archive we carry with us, full of unresolved questions, missteps, breakthroughs and beautiful, complicated people. This year’s reading and viewing list reflects that sensibility.

Liberation forces its contemporary narrator—and its audience—to reckon with the impossible expectations we’ve placed on small groups of women in church basements.

Molly Jong-Fast’s memoir presses on the tender, maddening ties between feminist foremothers and the daughters who grew up in their shadow.

Sarah Weinman’s study of spousal rape laws exposes just how recently the law stopped treating wives’ bodies as open territory—while showing how fiercely survivors and advocates have had to push for change that should never have been controversial.