More Than A Magazine, A Movement
Child marriage is a persistent, evolving, global problem, and the United States is far from immune: Between 2000 and 2018, nearly 300,000 children were married in America—most of them girls wed to adult men.
Lack of a strong legal framework to prevent child marriage in the U.S. contributes to its prevalence. Banning child marriage is still in the best interest of America’s children and teens.
You may know—and love—Dr. Jennifer Lincoln already. If you are unfamiliar, she’s a board-certified OB-GYN and a famous content creator with 2.8 million followers on TikTok and large platforms on Instagram and YouTube. Dr. Lincoln is also a practicing OB-hospitalist who works in labor and delivery, night and day.
She makes content to dispel medical misinformation, a frequent tool of the patriarchy. As ‘MAHA’ influencers decry everything from birth control to Tylenol, at the expense of women, she’s pushing back with evidence-based information.
Like most Americans, I felt uninformed about sexual reproductive health, even after my in-school health classes. In high school, I searched YouTube for information about reproductive health, where I found my way to Dr. Lincoln, who not only provided the health class I never had, but also ignited my interest in reproductive justice. Without her influence, I likely would not have become a feminist writer at Ms.
Over Zoom, I had the privilege of chatting with Dr. Lincoln about her journey from OB-GYN to viral educator, how the post-Dobbs landscape has reshaped her work, and why she believes accurate, inclusive sex education is one of the most powerful tools we have for liberation. Our conversation spanned everything from social media strategy to Christian nationalism—and what it really means to fight misinformation with empathy.
There’s a lot of unreliable information circulating about birth control—and it’s doing real harm.
The Trump administration is mischaracterizing contraceptives as abortifacients and using that false claim to justify plans to destroy nearly $10 million worth of birth control. For now, the supplies sit in a Belgian warehouse, their fate uncertain.
Meanwhile, social media is flooded with misleading videos about hormonal contraception, watched billions of times. This wave of misinformation is helping drive a decline in contraceptive use among young women that can’t be explained by access alone.
We know from experience that accurate, engaging storytelling can counter these lies—shows like East Los High have proven it—and the same approach could transform TikTok and other short-form platforms.
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:
—How did Portland, Ore., achieve one of the mosdt representative city councils in the country? Through structural reform and community-driven organizing.
—A woman will be Ireland’s next president.
—Japan is posed to make a historic shift in women’s leadership.
—For the first time, a woman will lead one of Christianity’s oldest institutions.
—We celebrate the life of Jane Goodall.
—We mark what would be Eleanor Roosevelt’s birthday. She helped craft the Universal Declaration of Human Rights—insisting that freedom must include not only political rights, but also the right to food, housing and dignity: “You cannot talk civil rights to people who are hungry.” In the midst of Cold War tension, Roosevelt’s words were a quiet but radical act—a reminder that peace often begins not in policy or power, but in empathy and connection.
… and more.
On Oct. 11, we celebrate International Day of the Girl, a global call to recognize girls’ rights and confront persistent inequality.
When hope wavers and progress stalls, I look for words that steady me. Recently, I found them in writer Roxane Gay’s powerful essay in The New York Times, “Civility Is a Fantasy,” where she writes: “As a writer, as a person, I do not know how to live and write and thrive in a world where working for decency and fairness and equality can be seen as incivility … I worry and I worry and I worry, and I feel helpless and angry and tired, but also recognize that doing nothing is not an acceptable choice.”
After reading Gay’s words, I reminded myself of the girl I am and the change I lead, and thought about the many girls who might be feeling that same helplessness right now—those watching rights roll back, hearing their worth debated or wondering if their voices still matter. So, on International Day of the Girl, this letter is for them. It’s a call for action.
To the public, she was a world-renowned scientist and icon. To me, she was Jane—my inspiring mentor and friend.
Goodall spoke of animals as having emotions and cultures, and in the case of chimps, communities that were almost tribal. She also named the chimps she observed, an unheard-of practice at the time, garnering ridicule from scientists who had traditionally numbered their research subjects.
Goodall was persuasive, powerful and determined, and she often advised me not to succumb to people’s criticisms. Her path to groundbreaking discoveries did not involve stepping on people or elbowing competitors aside.
The Trump administration’s latest immigration scheme offers unaccompanied children $2,500 to “voluntarily” give up their legal rights and return to the very countries they fled. Officials are calling it a resettlement stipend, but in reality, it’s a disingenuous and dangerous form of coercion. Children in federal custody—many without attorneys—are being asked to make life-altering decisions under duress, with money dangled as an incentive to abandon their claims. Far from empowering them with choice, this program undermines the legal protections Congress established to keep children safe.
It’s one more example of the administration’s incremental intimidation of children—this time, with a price tag attached.
Almost 60 years ago, in 1966, Pauli Murray, a queer Episcopal priest and legal scholar, approached noted feminist Betty Friedan about the need for an organization to push the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission to enforce the Civil Rights Act. Although the Act had passed in 1964 and banned discrimination based on race, color, national origin, sex, and religion, Murray understood that the law’s promise would remain unfulfilled without vigilance and pressure from activists. Friedan agreed, and later that year, the National Organization for Women (NOW) was created.
Newly-installed president Kim Villanueva—the former president of NOW’s Illinois chapter, cofounder of the Asian American and Pacific Islander Caucus and chair of the National Election Committee—and vice president Rose Brunache, former president of the DC chapter, spoke to Ms. reporter Eleanor J. Bader one month after taking office.
Everyone has a defining memory that shapes how they come to see the world. For me, a Gen Z born in 2007, it was kneeling in front of the television, eyes fixed on the screen, watching Barack Obama take the oath of office.
However, more than a decade after the Affordable Care Act (ACA) promised access to birth control, I found myself at the pharmacy counter, forced to walk away without it. My insurance refused to cover the pills I need to regulate my hormones, to prevent a third surgery for cystic breasts, and to alleviate excruciating period pain. That was my first confrontation with a false promise—but hardly the first loss of what I considered a secure right.
In theory, the ACA requires most health insurance plans to cover all FDA-approved contraceptive methods without any cost-sharing. In reality, that promise breaks down at the pharmacy counter—whether on account of delays, rejections, cost-sharing and a host of exceptions. In addition, states are eagerly stepping in to empower pharmacists to decide who does not get contraception.
Being on the receiving end of yet another violent and targeted email from a stranger hit a little differently this week, as the nation grapples with the murder of Charlie Kirk and its fallout.
Mostly what I’m feeling since receiving an email from Robert G. Smith—who signs off as “Bonecrusher Bob”—is a deep sense of obligation to the girls and women in my life. In his message, he attacked me with grotesque language, mocking my intelligence, my sexuality and my writing on menopause, telling me to “stick to brainwashing the little insurrectionist bastards who attend [my] shithouse skool.”
Much of my work is about developing leaders—running a law school center and fellowship program, mentoring high school and college students to become public writers, and helping grassroots leaders use the op-ed as a tool for advocacy. My own writing shines a light on women’s health issues that have long been ignored, like menopause, highlighting not just problems but solutions lawmakers can get behind.
The Bonecrusher Bobs of the world will not deter me, and I see the same resilience in those around me.
Just this past weekend, a teenager I mentor asked how to handle an op-ed she’d drafted about aggressive masculinity at her school; my answer was simple: We keep raising our voices with conviction, exposing lies, and showing up fully as ourselves. And when necessary, yes, we share screenshots.