Madonna Is Still Rewriting the Rules For Women in Pop

Thousands of fans, writers, nightlife legends and artists walked between the legs of a towering inflatable Madonna last month—a fitting monument to four decades of Madonna’s subversive expression of female sexuality and autonomy. The giant inflatable served as the entrance to Club Confessions at the Knockdown Center, where she celebrated Confessions II, her 15th studio album and sequel to her landmark 2005 album Confessions on a Dance Floor.

The event followed a summer in which Madonna staged a surprise album launch performance in Times Square; joined Sabrina Carpenter onstage during Carpenter’s headlining Coachella set; and opened the first-ever FIFA World Cup Final halftime show.

Widely regarded as a pioneering voice of women’s sexuality, authorship and autonomy in entertainment, Madonna has paved the way for generations of artists since the 1980s. But the industry moves at a relentless pace, with artists becoming irrelevant after a single album cycle and women in particular expected to endlessly reinvent themselves to remain culturally valuable. Against that backdrop, her newest work radically celebrates her own legacy.

Forty-three years after releasing her debut single, Madonna has fundamentally expanded the possibilities of female autonomy.

What a ‘Black Helen of Troy’ Reveals About Hollywood and Mythmaking

The conversations over a Black actor like Lupita Nyong’o portraying the iconic Helen of Troy, “the most beautiful woman in the world”, reveal a broader discomfort with depictions of dark-skinned Black beauty in Hollywood.

Whether Nolan intended to or not, Nyong’o’s dual roles reinforced the white feminine ideal, since her Helen does not threaten whiteness as the beauty status quo, nor does her Clytemnestra establish her as sufficiently feminine. 

Writer Karen Attiah argues we don’t need a Black Helen so much as we need more “Black mythologies. … “We don’t need Black Helens of Troy. We need more Wakanda women. We need more Women Kings. We need more Queens of Katwe. It is precisely in this moment of historical erasure and rejection of even the most nominal forms of Black inclusion that Black writers and thinkers, and especially Black women, should be focusing on building out the civilizational myths, histories, and heroines we already have.”

Imagine an epic movie about Amanirenas, the Kandake queen who prevented the conquest of the ancient kingdom of Kush from the powerful Roman army circa 25 B.C.E.

Or Queen Nzinga, who fought against the Portuguese seeking to enslave her people during the transatlantic slave trade era circa 1600s.

We can hardly visualize the kingdom of Haiti in existence between 1811 and 1820 during the era of Bridgerton, as historian Marlene Daut argues, let alone tell the story of its king and queen (instead of reclaiming the British Queen Charlotte as a Black royal). 

Imagine Lupita Nyong’o cast in any of these majestic roles.

And these roles need not be historical. Imagine the same actor reprising her role as the spy “war dog” Nakia from the Black Panther franchise in her own movie spin-off, traipsing James-Bond style around the world without the need to replace James Bond himself. 

If we must wait until 2028 to witness Nyong’o on our big screens again (when the third Black Panther film is scheduled), then this moment in The Odyssey is a misuse of her talents.

Believing Women (or Not) Shapes More Than Sexual Assault Cases

Nearly a decade after the rise of #MeToo, public conversations about sexual harassment and assault have entered a new phase—one marked by growing skepticism.

New data from Tulane University’s Newcomb Institute 2025 Violence Experiences Survey suggests that this skepticism extends beyond individual cases. People who are more likely to doubt women’s reports of sexual violence are also more likely to question women’s leadership and their ability to make decisions about their own health.

This matters because believing women—and believing in women—shapes whether survivors come forward, whether they are taken seriously and whether women are trusted in positions of authority. Ultimately, the issue is larger than sexual violence alone. It is about women’s credibility, and whether society trusts women to speak about their own experiences, lead their communities and decide what is best for their health and safety.

Inspired by the Greek Myth, Independent Film Series ‘The Cassandra Project’ Asks Viewers to Believe Women

Even in the wake of the #MeToo movement and heighteend awareness around sexual vioelnce, sexual assault is still one of the most underreported crimes. Although one in four women will experience sexual violence in her lifetime, fewer than 5 percent of these cases ever get reported to the police. In many situations, women fear that the police won’t believe them.

Unfortunately, this fear is well founded. Even though so few reports of sexual assault make it to the police in the first place, data shows that law enforcement will determine that one in five reported cases is “unfounded” and dismiss it.

There are dire consequences to not believing women. The Cassandra Project, a new trilogy of independent short films spearheaded by filmmaker Barclay DeVeau, hopes to illustrate “the profound consequences that arise when women are not believed and their voices are disregarded and dismissed.”

Documentary ‘State of Firsts’ Follows Sarah McBride’s Historic Journey to Congress

A new documentary, State of Firsts, released during Pride Month, chronicles Rep. Sarah McBride (D-Del.)’s historic path to Congress amid growing anti-transgender rhetoric. It is now showing in select theaters across the country.

Directed by trans filmmaker Chase Joynt, the documentary offers a behind-the-scenes look at McBride’s journey to becoming the first openly transgender elected official in the U.S. Congress.

What Happens When a Dancer Is Forced to Become a Refugee? ‘Born to Dance, Forced to Run’ Captures Life Under the Shadow of Deportation

Born to Dance, Forced to Run is a powerful new documentary that follows Steeven Labady, a queer Haitian dancer whose relentless pursuit of his artistic dreams is continually upended by displacement, asylum battles and the constant threat of deportation. Through his extraordinary journey, filmmaker and Haitian feminist activist Pascale Solages reveals the human cost of migration policies, transforming an abstract political debate into an intimate story of resilience, survival and hope.

At a moment when the Trump administration is dismantling Temporary Protected Status for Haitians and escalating immigration enforcement, the film’s message could not be more urgent. It’s a deeply human portrait of what it means to live undocumented under the shadow of deportation.

Born to Dance, Forced to Run premieres in New York on Saturday, July 25, at 6 p.m. at the Brooklyn Children’s Museum, where audiences will have an opportunity to experience this moving documentary on the big screen, followed by a Q&A.

Christopher Nolan’s ‘The Odyssey’ Reclaims the Diversity of the Ancient World

Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey validates the culture through this quarter-billion-dollar Hollywood production—best seen and appreciated in movie theaters. So, why did some react to this latest retelling of The Odyssey as if the mere presence of a Black woman would delegitimize its place in history? And should we ignore them as out-of-touch fringe extremists? 

Before The Odyssey even reached theaters, Nyong’o’s casting as Helen of Troy ignited predictable outrage from white supremacists and anti-“woke” commentators who claimed a Black actor had no place in one of Western civilization’s foundational myths. But as scholars of antiquity make clear, that backlash says far more about modern racial politics than it does about the ancient world itself.

Nolan’s sweeping adaptation arrives at a moment when the fight over history is also a fight over power. By embracing a multiracial cast, The Odyssey challenges centuries of whitewashing and reminds us that the ancient Mediterranean was far more diverse than many have been taught to believe.

The diversity of the ancient world is our collective heritage—not the exclusive property of those seeking to rewrite the past.

If You’re Alone on the Prairie, Would You Rather Meet a Man or a Wolf?

It would be easy to be cynical about a remake of Little House on the Prairie (Netflix). At a moment when “tradwife” nostalgia and gender politics dominate so much of our cultural conversation, the series arrives as an unexpected relief—and maybe just what we need today.

The series presents a vision of manhood built around care rather than conquest: thoughtful men, flawed men, men for whom fatherhood is the center of their lives. They aren’t heroes, exactly—just plain, decent men trying to find their footing in a country freshly out of a war that ended slavery, even as it stepped into a new era of oppressing the people who were already here. The show never lets you forget that history. It’s always present, but it’s carried by characters wrestling with the same universal struggles we all recognize.

The women and girls matter just as much. They’re fierce and determined, never reduced to helpless victims—and it’s largely through how the men in the show treat them that we get the show’s gentlest lessons on how men and women can meet each other halfway.

TV Still Has a Lot to Learn About Abortion

Four years after Dobbs, television has become more willing to acknowledge the legal and political barriers to abortion care—but too often, it still reinforces harmful myths.

While shows like Grey’s Anatomy have depicted the devastating consequences of abortion bans, others continue to fall back on familiar tropes. In And Just Like That, the show largely sidesteps abortion as a normal, legitimate choice—especially for an affluent married mother in New York. And recently, the critically acclaimed Margo’s Got Money Troubles builds its entire premise around a young woman rejecting abortion despite pressure from those around her.

Those storytelling choices matter. Research shows that accurate abortion storylines can increase public understanding, reduce stigma and even help people feel more confident in their own reproductive healthcare decisions.

Yet television still rarely reflects the reality of abortion today—from the fact that most abortion patients are already parents, to the widespread use of medication abortion.

In an era of widespread confusion and misinformation, TV has the power to inform millions of viewers, but only if it moves beyond outdated narratives and portrays abortion as the ordinary healthcare decision it is for so many people.