Gloria Steinem in Her Own Words: On Trump, Roe v. Wade, and the Birth of the Modern Women’s Rights Movement

As we grieve the passing of Gloria Steinem, Ms. founder and feminist visionary, we’re looking back at some of our favorite quotes from Steinem’s 50+ years of speaking and activism across the U.S. and throughout the world. She was sharp, funny and infinitely quotable, and many of her interviews from over the years combine deep feminist insight with some snappy one-liners.

The two most famous quotes attributed to Steinem are possibly, “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle” and, “If men could get pregnant, then abortion would be a sacrament.” However, while Steinem said and popularized both, she made it clear that neither quote originated with her; the first is attributed to Australian writer and activist Irina Dunn, and the second, according to Steinem, was originally said by her speaking partner Florynce Kennedy.

Steinem still had no end of wise, funny, inspiring sayings of her own that other feminists will keep quoting for years after her death. Below are some of our favorites.

Gloria Steinem: The People’s Feminist

Lately I’ve been in a groove that has me up before the sun most days. Though I try resist the impulse to pick up my phone, this morning I opened Instagram at 4 a.m. and saw Gloria Steinem’s account—a somber post that she died peacefully overnight at age 92. It took several hours before the media started reporting on it, and in those quiet moments, I reflected on the myriad ways her words and deeds have impacted the world we inhabit and altered my own world view.

As Contrarian readers may know, I am also proudly part of the team at Ms. magazine—one of Gloria’s many legacies, and which still thrives as an essential feminist news and storytelling hub today. Her words, her wisdom, her exclamations of “fan-fucking-tastic,” even her very physical appearance—honey hair, ever-cool aviators, low-slung belts—swirl in my psyche every day.

By mid-morning, my social media feed had exploded into a wall of tributes—photos, anecdotes, news clips. I surely knew how much she meant to women of all ages—it seems everyone can quote a pithy on-the-mark phrase attributed to Gloria Steinem—but what I found so riveting was how many have an intimate firsthand interaction to recount, a prized selfie to share, a sense of real connection and meaning when it comes to Gloria. My Ms. colleague Roxy Szal refers to her as the “people’s feminist”—a pairing of words that may seem simply strung together, but represent a depth of generosity, compassion, savvy and social intelligence and skill that is rare.

Dolly Parton’s Unique Feminist Power, as Told by Gloria Steinem (January 1987)

(As the world mourns Dolly Parton, Ms. is revisiting Gloria Steinem’s tribute to the country music legend, originally published in the January 1987 issue, when Parton was named one of Ms. magazine’s Women of the Year. Steinem celebrated Parton not only as a gifted songwriter and magnetic performer, but as a shrewd businessperson who transformed femininity into a source of humor and power—and used her success to lift up working women, poor communities and the mountain people of her native Tennessee.)

If feminism means each of us finding our unique power, and helping other women do the same, Dolly Parton certainly has done both.

Her strength and capacity to dream seems to have been born into Dolly, as one of 12 children of a poor family in those mountains.

By the time she was 7, she was playing the guitar, reading books and dreaming of a world beyond the poverty and beauty of the Smoky Mountains.

By the time she was 10, she had coaxed support from her free-thinking mother, braved the opposition of her protective father, and earned her first public applause by singing before live audiences at a radio station in Knoxville. With that taste of success, she vowed to conquer the larger world beyond the mountains, but never to betray the country way of life that had nurtured her.

After Dobbs, the ERA Offers a New Path to Abortion Rights

For 250 years, women have been fighting for inclusion in the nation’s founding promise of equality. The Equal Rights Amendment would finally guarantee that equality under the U.S. Constitution—and could give Congress and the courts powerful new tools to address discrimination in education, employment, healthcare and safety. It could also provide a constitutional basis for challenging abortion bans and restrictions as forms of sex discrimination.

But feminists do not have to wait for federal recognition of the ERA to put equality guarantees to work. State constitutions are already providing a path forward.

In Nevada, advocates successfully challenged the state’s ban on Medicaid funding for abortion under its Equal Rights Amendment; in Pennsylvania, courts have opened the door to treating restrictions on abortion funding as sex discrimination; and in Colorado, feminist lawyers are arguing that parental-notification requirements impose unequal burdens on young women while placing no comparable restrictions on young men.

At a moment when abortion rights no longer have federal constitutional protection, state ERAs offer feminists another constitutional path—not only to challenge abortion restrictions, but to confront the stereotypes and unequal burdens beneath them. Building strong interpretations of equality at the state level can protect women now while laying the groundwork for the expansive vision of sex equality a federal ERA could one day deliver nationwide.

(This essay is part of FEMINIST 250: Democracy’s Feminist Future, a special series examining the next chapter of American democracy through a feminist lens. As the nation marks its 250th anniversary, the series taps the thought leaders of today to debut game-changing ideas for the next 250 years.)

Keeping Our Eyes on the Prize: Building a Future Beyond Roe

Nearly 50 years after Roe came, it went.

The Dobbs decision brought a devastating reversal—but it simultaneously ushered in a moment akin to 1972 … the opportunity to reimagine bodily autonomy and build something better.

And now, in 2026, we have begun to see glimmers of such vision emerge in the law by way of more expansive court rulings and bolder legislation.

Matilda Joslyn Gage: The Most Radical Suffragist Written Out of History Is Still Urgently Relevant

Matilda Joslyn Gage was one of the most radical voices of the 19th-century women’s rights movement—and one of the most deliberately forgotten. Alongside Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony, she helped build the suffrage movement, but Gage pushed further, challenging not only women’s political exclusion but also patriarchal religion, sexual violence, economic inequality and the erasure of women’s accomplishments from history.

Gage paired those radical ideas with bold action. She protested the 1886 unveiling of the Statue of Liberty because women themselves had no political liberty; refused to pay taxes without representation; and wrote Woman, Church and State, a blistering critique of Christianity’s role in legitimizing women’s subordination. Her willingness to confront institutions other suffragists feared alienating ultimately helped push her out of the movement’s mainstream history.

A century later, Gage’s warnings feel strikingly current. As voting rights, bodily autonomy and the separation of church and state once again come under attack, her insistence that women understand their own history—and see themselves as part of a struggle extending across generations—offers both a warning and a call to action.

From Selma to Todd Blanche, U.S. Democracy Is Being Tested

Sixty-one years ago, President Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act of 1965 into law—one of the most consequential victories of the Civil Rights Movement and a landmark affirmation of the principle that democracy belongs to all of us.

But the Voting Rights Act was not simply handed down from Washington. It was won through years of organizing, resistance and extraordinary courage—by people who marched, registered voters and risked their lives demanding that the federal government enforce a right already promised by the Constitution.

The lesson of Selma is not that the fight was won. It is that our rights survive only when people are willing to defend them.

We are seeing another test of that principle right now in the Senate.

Trump’s nominee for attorney general, Todd Blanche—his former personal defense attorney and now acting attorney general—has spent weeks struggling to secure enough Republican support for confirmation. The Senate Judiciary Committee advanced his nomination this week on a party-line 12-10 vote, only after Blanche made (non-binding) concessions to Republican senators concerned about a proposed $1.8 billion “anti-weaponization” fund connected to a settlement of Trump’s lawsuit against the IRS.

At Ms., we have been following Blanche’s record closely—from his role in the Justice Department’s horrific mishandling of the Jeffrey Epstein files, to his threats involving medication abortion and the Comstock Act, to larger concerns about whether as the nation’s top law enforcement officer he will ensure the independence of the Justice Department and defend the Constitution or the political interests of the president who appointed him.

Blanche’s confirmation is all but assured, with Senate GOP leadership planning to take up his nomination before leaving Washington for its August recess. His confirmation does not resolve the serious questions surrounding his independence—it makes vigilance and accountability all the more important.

Accountability is also at the center of another troubling story unfolding in Washington. Rep. Max Miller (R-Ohio) is facing allegations of domestic violence and child abuse from his former wife. His former father-in-law, Republican Sen. Bernie Moreno, has gone so far as to say Miller should not serve in Congress, while lawmakers and advocates have called for investigation and accountability. The standards we demand from our leaders—and whether institutions are willing to enforce them—tell us something fundamental about whose safety and dignity we value.

These stories may appear very different: the Voting Rights Act, the nomination of a corrupt attorney general, allegations involving a member of Congress. But they are connected by a basic question: What does democracy require? And what does it require of us?

‘To Be Forgotten Is to Die Twice’: The Fight to Protect the Graves at Ireland’s Bessborough Mother and Baby Home

Survivors and advocates in Ireland are fighting to stop the construction of luxury apartments on the grounds of the former Bessborough Mother and Baby Institute, where hundreds of infants who died in state- and church-run custody are believed to remain buried in unmarked graves. 

At a national rally on July 18 outside the Cork City Library—the site of the former Bessborough Mother and Baby Institute—survivors and their families warned building over the site would erase one of Ireland’s darkest chapters. There, survivors and their families spoke about their experiences. Advocates held a banner with the names of infants who died at Bessborough and others marched with signs reading “to be forgotten is to die twice.”

Bessborough is part of a system of containment institutes first founded back in the 1760s as places to help sex workers pursue more “moral” forms of employment. 

By the 1800s, these institutions—called the Magdalene laundries, or mother and baby homes—effectively became prisons for “fallen” or “immoral” women who deviated from strict social norms. Run by Christian religious orders and institutions, mother and baby institutes kept unmarried pregnant women hidden from public view in a Catholic country where unmarried pregnant women and girls were and are deeply stigmatized.

Inside mother and baby institutes—which received public funding and were run by religious orders—unmarried pregnant women and girls were hidden away and faced intense violence. According to the Irish Mother and Baby Homes Commission of Investigation, 11.4 percent of the people incarcerated in these institutions were minors. After their children were born and babies at least partially weaned, these women were forcibly separated from their children who would be taken for adoption. But many children died in these institutes because of systemic neglect and abuse.

Who Gets Remembered? The Fight to Put Women’s History on the National Mall

America’s monuments tell us who matters. Yet on the National Mall, where presidents, generals and founding fathers dominate the landscape, women’s contributions remain strikingly absent.

The battle over a permanent Smithsonian American Women’s History Museum exposes how contested women’s place in our national story still is.

The museum’s new exhibit, Unhidden Heroines, uses augmented reality to offer a glimpse of what that story could look like—one in which women are no longer relegated to footnotes but recognized as central figures in shaping the nation.

The exhibit profiles five exceptional women whose substantial contributions to American history have been largely unrecognized or obscured in the historical record: Mary Katharine Goddard, the printer who published the first signed copy of the Declaration of Independence; Dr. Dorothy Height, a civil and women’s rights activist known as the “Godmother of the Civil Rights Movement”; Julia Ward Howe, creator of a rallying cry, “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” for the Union cause during the Civil War; Elizebeth Smith Friedman, a cryptanalyst central to cracking Nazi code during World War II; and Polly Cooper, an Oneida woman pivotal to the success of Washington’s Continental Army.

Despite strong bipartisan support for the brick-and-mortar women’s museum project—and having raised tens of millions of dollars for its establishment—momentum for the public-private partnership suffered a setback on the Hill: The bill that would have finalized the museum’s location on the Mall was scuttled after Republicans added anti-trans language barring the depiction of “any biological male as a female” in its exhibits and giving President Trump control over selection of its location.  

It’s not the first time the administration has claimed to protect women’s rights while actually setting back their interests or causing them harm.

Saving Seneca Falls: The U.S. Birthplace of ‘All Men and Women Are Created Equal’ Must Be Preserved

A caved-in roof. A crumbling porch. A memorial water wall in need of restoration.

These are just a few areas of the $10 million of deferred maintenance needed at the Women’s Rights National Historical Park in Seneca Falls, N.Y., one of 11 sites on the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s 2026 list of “Most Endangered Historic Places.” The Women’s Rights National Historical Park celebrates the first Women’s Rights Convention, held on July 19 and 20, 1848. Of the 433 parks within the National Park System, only 13 are dedicated to women’s history, making the inclusion of the Women’s Rights park on the “most endangered” list even more imperative. Rather than merely lament a need for restoration, the list, according to the trust, aims to increase “visibility, public attention and new resources to save and activate historic places for the public good.”

The story of suffrage, like so many stories in our nation’s history, is neither uncomplicated nor is it a “single story” that’s “preserved in amber,” insists Miranda Johnson-Haddad, president of the Friends of the Women’s Rights National Historical Park, the non-profit philanthropic group that supports the park. Johnson-Haddad emphasizes that the park’s leadership wants to continue to have “brave conversations about difficult subjects,” including that some suffragists, like Stanton, succumbed to white supremacist thinking—despite being active in the abolition movement—championing the right to vote for white women, but not for Black men and women. No Black women were known to be in attendance at the first Seneca Falls Convention, and only one Black man, Frederick Douglass, signed the declaration.

Still, “these are stories that belong to all of us in all their messiness and complexity,” Johnson-Haddad stresses, “and that can guide us through the current messy complexity.” She cites “Bread and Roses,” a protest song dating back to 1912: “As we go marching, marching, we bring the greater days / The rising of the women means the rising of the [human] race.”