In Grace Byron’s, Herculine, the unnamed narrator is a bitingly funny critic of New York culture. She speaks of “hot freelance girls,” a specific media breed seemingly made in a lab with a “cloud of Santal 33 and secondhand Prada” to incite envy. Byron's own time in the freelance trenches—she made a name for herself in the media world penning incisive cultural criticism for outlets like The New Yorker, Vulture, and on her Substack—makes her know these kinds of girls all too well.

So reading Herculine feels like a natural extension of Byron’s work. In it, her unnamed heroine is living adrift in Brooklyn; her demons literally accompayning her as she works at a children’s clothing store while dreaming about being a writer. As she unearths her various traumas, she reconnects with her ex-girlfriend, Ash, who has started an all-trans girl commune (named Herculine) near her hometown in Indiana. The pull of both Ash and the ideal of trans community brings the narrator there, where it becomes clear that her demons aren’t the only ones at the commune.

Ahead of the book’s October 7 release, Byron spoke to Marie Claire about writing her debut novel, the idea of trauma bonding, and how it feels analyzing trans life in this political climate.

Marie Claire: What was the first inspiration for Herculine?

Grace Byron: I was trying to write a memoir, and I failed. It felt important to try and figure out a way to think through similar themes, but introducing a sense of play, fantasy, and surrealism felt like a helpful way to work through it. I always wanted to work on fiction, and it ended up having to circle back after I spent some time thinking through how to approach it.

MC: This novel straddles a lot of lines between horror and fantasy. Why was that a draw for you?

GB: I grew up reading a lot of fantasy, more than horror. I read Narnia, A Wrinkle in Time, and all the quasi-Christian fantasy books. I wasn't really expecting to do horror, and it crept up and felt like a natural way to think through trauma. I read Gretchen Felker-Martin’s book Manhunt, and that was just a big light bulb moment. At first, Herculine wasn't necessarily going to be a horror novel. The demons took over as I was writing.

MC: You are from Indiana. Was that part of having this setting between New York and then the narrator going back to where she was from?

GB: You write the book that you don't want to write; you end up confronting all the things that you don't want to write. I didn't really want to write about New York, but I did, through this backdoor way of writing about personal stuff, including Midwestern culture and what it's like to be queer or trans in the Midwest, and the guilt and confusion around moving away. It felt important to me to represent the Midwest and not just writing another New York novel.

MC: Herculine is so funny on top of being frightening. There are so many incredible phrasings like “hot freelance girls,” “trans girl actress,” and “female small business owner” that are just so succinct in knowing exactly what you are talking about.

GB: I wrote this at a time when I was less accomplished. I was really working through jealousy and envy, and so much of gender for cis and trans people is about ambition, envy, jealousy, and desire. There's this way that the narrator is thinking, even if she's not really getting anywhere with her thoughts. That bitterness felt like a narrative engine and interesting to use as a propulsion for thinking about belonging and community, and the way that she is unable to build alliances or friendships with people because she can only see them as people she wants to be or as people she wants to conquer. A lot of freelancers feel it is competitive, and similarly, gender can be competitive. The bitterness lent itself to this biting humor that felt like the only way to write about it. I didn't really want to write a more sappy trauma story. I would rather obliquely reference the Trans Girl sob story and have some bile come up rather than give it in a sickly sweet way.

MC: That outsiderness that the narrator feels is what brings her to the commune and back to her ex-girlfriend Ash. Their relationship is interesting because it's so toxic, but they're also tied together in terms of discovering who they were and transitioning at similar times. How was it mapping out that relationship?

GB: It felt important to sort of write about T for T heartbreak in a way that strips away some of the naivete and gets into the more gritty and painful parts of that, which there is a precedent for—I think, both Torrey Peters and Gretchen Felker-Martin have written about that. To me, such a large part of the book is how the very alliances that you want to have and the community you want to have can still hurt you. Someone recently, in an interview, was like, ‘I feel like Ash is the villain.’ And I was like, ‘That's so crazy to have a trans woman be the villain in a book about trans women, especially in this political climate.’ But I always want to dig into those uncomfortable things. There is a danger in portraying her as the villain, for sure. It is a delicate balancing act, but I don't necessarily see that there's a clear-cut evil person; perhaps the demons are. She really wants it to work with Ash on some level. I think those things are messy and painful. She goes to this commune, skeptical but hopeful, and ends up still being let down even though she wasn't ready to give it her all. Her actual friends end up being the imperfect but hopeful vessels for community.

MC: What was the idea for Herculine being this idea of an all trans women commune, looking for community, and then for it to all go completely awry?

GB: There's a trope about the queer trans back to the land commune, and I wanted to take that not fully at face value, and explore how that can still reinforce the same social hierarchies and oppression that the outside world does. You can't escape your baggage, which isn't to say that being a separatist is an entirely wrong politic, but to explore the messiness of that and how that can still fail you, and that it's not a foolproof strategy to escape pain or heartbreak or disaster. That felt like an interesting vessel for thinking about trauma and politics and the way that you bring all of your pain with you wherever you go.

MC: I love the line towards the end of the book about how Ash thinks they fell in love because of their mutual trauma.

GB: Trauma bonding is such a confusing, but continual trope in queer culture, and what is the right way to form a friendship or the wrong way to fall in love? This book takes the fact that inevitably trauma will inform your life, but there are ways that it can lead to negative consequences if you let it too much. The book is about how trauma can distort love or friendship, and it's a book about what love isn't more than it is a book about what love is.

MC: There’s a line in the book that’s “So much of transexualism is the divulging of history. It’s not a gift so much as a bomb we’re all passing to one another.” I’d love to hear a bit more about that.

GB: It's always really nerve-racking to write into these more tricky parts of trans life and embodiment that other people might read and weaponize against us in this political moment. But for better or worse, that is what is interesting to me as a writer. I'm glad that a lot more trans writers are starting to try and write about poorly behaved trans women. And a lot of my short stories started as well, what if someone trans did “the worst thing,” and we follow that person and treat them as a whole human anyway. That line in particular is reflecting on the idea of trauma bonding and the way that when you're trying to offload your pain through confession. Like maybe this time if I connect with someone or this time I befriend someone, I can tell them my burden and it'll be done. I'll have given it away. I'll have given the ticking time bomb to someone else. And it just doesn't work like that.

I think so much of the way that a lot of queer and trans people can befriend each other is like, ‘Here's my shitty history. What was yours?’ That can be both a sort of cheat code or a shortcut into intimacy that sometimes isn't always the best…It's another one of those double-edged swords that felt interesting to write about.

MC: You wrote a piece for The New Yorker about the state of trans art right now, and everything with trans rights is scary at the moment. How is it exploring that with the novel?

GB: I find the idea of purity politics in minority art to be really brutal and not fair and not interesting, not how art works. I always want to be pushing against that. Rose Dommu said something similar in an interview recently about her new novel, where she was talking about anything I can do to push against quasi-positive holier-than-thou representation, I'm going to do it. That's a fair way to put it. It's just not fun. It's not sexy.

MC: Cultural criticism has been such a hot topic of conversation with the state of media and our current political climate. What are your thoughts about that since you work in a lot of these spaces?

GB: It'll be interesting to see how people try to combat and evolve. A lot of people have migrated to Substack, but there are advantages and disadvantages to that. [The novelist] Brandon Taylor, when he read my book, was like, ’It doubles as an act of cultural criticism.’ And I hadn't thought of it like that. But I do think there's a way that criticism informs everything that I do in my way of writing, even when I'm writing more traditional books, and I love books that reference other books and think through other texts. There will always be criticism, but it has always been in crisis.

MC: Do you have any recommendations for favorite books or trans writers that you think people should check out?

GB: I always try to make a list that isn't just other trans writers, but I also think more people should be writing and reading trans literature as mainstream, because it is, and it has a lot to say about bodily autonomy at large, and also just fiction and life and the human condition. In my book, there are references to Nevada by Imogen Binnie, Stag Dance by Torrey Peters, and Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin. I really love Wild Geese by Soula Emmanuel, which I think is under-read. I love Mrs. S by K. Patrick. I love Girlfriends by Emily Zhou. Lucy Sante is an incredible writer. Shola von Reinhold is a great writer. Harron Walker, Jamie Hood. There is an explosion of great writers, and people should read them and not just during some sort of quasi-weird trans readathon thing.

The 21st century introduced the rise of the girlboss: the (tastefully) badass woman who, in contrast to so many before her, can choose to prioritize her career over everything else, bursting through glass ceilings and clawing her way to executive roles, all without giving up her femininity. She’s a superwoman who “has it all,” juggling a high-powered career and a family, all while wearing a stylish power suit and painfully high heels. On paper, it may seem like a good idea, especially after women’s rights activists spent decades fighting for access first to the workplace and then, once they had a foot in the door, to the highest levels of the corporate structure. In reality, however, girlbossery leaves much to be desired.

Setting aside the inherent issue of its patronizing, infantilizing name, many are increasingly realizing that, rather than signifying a win for feminism, the idea of the girlboss only perpetuates the racist, classist, and, yes, sexist structures of late-stage capitalism. Now, it's just with a glittery, hot pink overlay to make it seem like something revolutionary and new. (It’s not.) The vast majority of those held up as the ultimate girlbosses throughout the 2000s and 2010s were overwhelmingly young, white, and cisgender, suggesting that there was only one way to be a high-achieving woman. Beyond that, girlboss toxicity is further entrenched in its celebration of an all-out sprint to the top of the corporate ladder—of “leaning in” to office policies that all but destroy the idea of work-life balance—which have proven to have major consequences on both physical and mental health.

Of course, the issue isn’t confined only to women: People of all genders, races, and ages are left overworked, exhausted, and unfulfilled by the demands of a society built around a form of capitalism that venerates the unsustainable ideal of relentless progress at all costs.

So, enter the rise of a new approach to work-life balance weighted distinctly more toward life than work and eschews hustle culture in favor of good mental and physical health habits. A decade after Sheryl Sandberg's Lean In took the world by storm, bestseller lists and round-ups of the best books of the year now contain much more nuanced takes on corporate culture. There's especially a focus on strategies for and stories of women in the workforce. Below, we're highlighting 12 must-read memoirs and nonfiction titles about ambition and in critique of hustle culture from women writers for anyone interested in breaking away from the girlboss facade once and for all.

There’s no denying that it can be pretty scary to be a woman. We, unfortunately, need not look past our realities to know that, but sometimes there’s nothing like a classic horror movie to put into perspective how terrifying our real-life fears and challenges are.

With their scream queen leads and nuanced stories, there’s a whole subset within the genre known as feminist horror. While some franchises may center around the male gaze and a handful of older filmers may have included shameful messaging (ever notice the first kill in a slasher is the character who has sex?), horror also has a long history of being feminist. From its trope of “the final girl” who resiliently faces off with the villain to its themes exploring puberty and empowerment and the many up-and-coming filmmakers within the genre today, many scary movies are centered around women’s stories. Below, we’ve rounded up a handful of the very best feminist horror movies that we consider must-watch.

'Alien' (1979)

Has there ever been a more badass character in sci-fi/horror than Ripley? We don’t think so! Sigourney Weaver stars in this space movie as a member of a seven-piece crew on a mission to explore a new moon and the horrors that await them when they encounter traces of life. When her teammates don’t listen to her warnings, it ends up being a one-woman mission (along with her cat Jones!), and nothing’s more frightening than when no one else can hear you scream.

WATCH IT

'Black Christmas' (1974)

Texas Chainsaw Massacre is the first-ever slasher, and Halloween gets a lot of credit for bringing the genre into the mainstream, but in reality, Black Christmas came before it. Released just several months after TCM, this home invasion thriller starring ‘70s icons Olivia Hussey and Margot Kidder is set at a sorority house just before the winter holiday break. The co-eds start getting obscene phone calls and murders ensue, leading to a rallying of sisterhood to stop the killings.

WATCH IT

'Carrie' (1976)

Being a teenage girl is a nightmare, and that’s exactly what this film based on Stephen King’s novel of the same name is all about. Brian De Palma expertly adapts the book about a bullied girl with telepathic abilities (Sissie Spacek) and an abusive, religious mother (Piper Laurie), making the horrors in the girls' locker room as real as the supernatural. She’s forever the prom queen in our hearts.

WATCH IT

'Ginger Snaps' (2000)

Ginger Snaps walked so Jennifer’s Body could run. (In fact, one high school hallway shot nearly mirrors one in the 2009 movie.) Like Carrie, it’s a classic within the puberty horror genre—about a teenage girl undergoing rapid change and how disturbing that can be. Except, after an encounter with a wild beast, outcast Ginger (Katharine Isabelle) develops a tail, starts turning into a werewolf, and develops a magnetism that her male classmates can’t ignore.

WATCH IT

'A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night' (2014)

When you hear the phrase “a girl walks home alone at night,” it implies that something awful is lurking around the corner, and bound to meet her demise. Ana Lily Amirpour’s film flips the script on that perception: In this Persian-language indie favorite, the girl walking home is a vampire (Sheila Vand) holding all the power. Set in an Iranian ghost town, she lurks the streets on her skateboard, finding men to feast on, including those dealing with their own forms of addiction.

WATCH IT

'The Invisible Man' (2020)

Inspired by the concept from H. G. Wells' 1897 novel, Elisabeth Moss stars as a woman who flees her abusive, crazed scientist/tech boss ex-boyfriend (Oliver Jackson-Cohen)—only to be haunted by him. Having invented a suit that makes him invisible, he stalks and torments her to extremely eerie results, until she discovers how to win at his game.

WATCH IT

'It Follows' (2015)

No one can see what “it” is in this teen scream, but it starts to haunt you once you’ve had sex (so it’s a pretty obvious stand-in for the shame surrounding teen sex and STIs). The movie is a humble, oddball of an indie film centered around high schooler Jay, played by Maika Monroe who instantly became a modern scream queen because of her performance. With its larger themes, It Follows and filmmaker David Robert Mitchell unquestionably changed the horror game upon this movie’s release, inspiring the “elevated horror” genre we know today.

WATCH IT

'Jennifer’s Body' (2009)

When Jennifer’s Body was released, misogynistic critics couldn’t comprehend the genius of the Diablo Cody-penned movie directed by Karyn Kusama—but thank goodness the film has since been reevaluated for its greatness. Megan Fox stars as the titular Jennifer, whose body becomes a vessel for a demon after she’s assaulted, and she starts killing off boys at school in response. As her BFF, the awkward Needy (Amanda Seyfriend), takes matters into her own hands, it turns into a campy cat-and-mouse game, but this was a smart movie about assault long before it was more openly discussed in Hollywood.

WATCH IT

'The Love Witch' (2016)

Anna Biller’s The Love Witch is much more of a comedy than it is a horror movie, but it’s a satire that’ll cast a spell on you. Filmed in technicolor and set in a ‘60s-inspired world, it follows a young witch named Elaine (Samantha Robinson) who is desperate to find love. When men fail her time and time again, whether they simply be pisces or forcing her to adhere to specific expectations, she finds herself with blood on her hands—but all the more powerful as a witch.

WATCH IT

'Midsommar' (2019)

Not many horror movies are set in the daytime, but leave it to genre master Ari Aster to make one of the freakiest cult films of all time set at a sunny Sweden festival. When Dani (Florence Pugh) is grieving the death of her entire family, she’s surprised to learn her boyfriend (Jack Reynor) is abandoning her to travel with his friends to research a midsummer festival in a desolate location, so he reluctantly brings her along. Immediately upon arrival, things get weird, and Midsommar unfolds into a folk horror examination of grief, found family, and bad boyfriends.

WATCH IT

'Pearl: An X-Traordinary Origin' (2022)

Pearl, the second film in Ti West’s X trilogy, can be watched as a standalone movie or a fun prequel to the series. On its own, the slasher set in the 1920s, Spanish flu-era Texas is a wild romp and features the most overt feminist themes of the three movies as an examination of feminine rage. Series lead Mia Goth returns as the titular Pearl, a farm-wife-to-be who has dreams of the silver screen. She’s a bit quirky and willing to do anything to be a star, so she’ll have you screaming before she takes her final bow. And you’ll never look at scarecrows the same.

WATCH IT

'Raw' (2016)

When Julia Ducournau’s feature film directorial debut premiered at Cannes, audiences couldn’t stop talking about how squeamish it made them. They exaggerated the level of gore here—but it is the kind of movie that’ll make your stomach turn. When Justine (Garance Marillier) goes to veterinary school and undergoes a hazing ritual in which she’s forced to eat raw meat, despite being a vegetarian, she develops a taste for flesh—one that becomes unbearable and finds her feasting on humans. An allegory for one’s sexual awakening, you’ll feel well-fed the whole way through.

WATCH IT

'Ready or Not' (2019)

You get married, and on your wedding night, find out your in-laws aren’t just hypothetical nightmares, but are out to kill you. What do you do? That’s what happens to Grace (Samara Weaving) when she marries into the wealthy Le Domas board game family dynasty, who have a tradition of “playing a game” at the end of every family wedding. When Grace selects hide-and-go-seek, it becomes a hunt to the death—and an action-filled, sinisterly funny f-the-rich movie from the horror collective Radio Silence plays out.

WATCH IT

'Rosemary’s Baby' (1968)

Never ignore a mother’s instinct. Rosemary’s Baby is a certified classic that has inspired countless of other horror movies—and is a notable fashion film—about a Manhattanite woman (Mia Farrow) who is convinced the child she is pregnant with is not of this world.

WATCH IT

'The Slumber Party Massacre' (1982)

This ‘80s movie directed by Amy Holden Jones and written by Rita Mae Brown toys with all the expectations that might come to mind when you hear its title. Rather than being an exploitative slasher, it takes a stab at being satirical of the sub-genre (the weapon is a phallic power drill) and uplifts the women who are frequently victims in it. While it’s a parody, it still plays like a horror movie, so bonkers kills and scares still abound.

WATCH IT

'Suspiria' (2018)

Dario Argento’s splashy 1977 original is legendary, but Luca Guadagnino’s remake of the story of an American dancer named Susie’s enrollment at a mysterious German school for dance gave it a feminist update. While the original Susie (Jessica Harper) is more of a vessel for all of the horrors that unfold behind closed doors at Tanz Akademie, the version played by Dakota Johnson steps into her power. The overall mood is dark and dreary, and it features some of the most contortionistic body horror, but the payoff deserves a standing ovation.

WATCH IT

'The VVitch' (2015)

Set in colonial New England, a teenage girl named Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy in her breakout role) becomes the subject of scrutiny within her own family when they accuse her of being a witch. As Robert Eggers’ debut feature, it cemented him as a horror auteur with an impeccable taste for mood, period accuracy, and language. And as a story about a young woman facing disbelief and mob mentality—and stepping into one’s divine feminine—it’s also one of the best witch narratives ever crafted. “Live deliciously” and watch it.

WATCH IT

More than a century since women were given the right to vote, the sad fact of the matter is: We've still got a lot of work to do. Somehow, "feminism" remains a controversial word, even though the definition of feminism is impossible to argue with: an effort to make sure every woman and every individual has rights equal to that of a cis white man, no matter their race, religion, gender identification, sexual preference, or anything else.

Sounds like a common-sense cause, right? Well, in spite of a plethora of data proving that women are not treated equally to men in America, many people disagree with the premise of feminism, arguing that women already are equal to men, or that their gains haven't matched men's because they haven't worked hard enough, or that women and men are inherently and biologically different and cannot be compared. Others agree that women's rights are a noble cause, but that men's rights aren't given the same consideration.

In actuality, most feminists consider men also at a disadvantage due to the inequality between men and women. When we socialize men to not show sadness and fear, to provide financially and not emotionally, and not to seek mental health help, to name a few examples, we contribute to a culture that harms both men and women. At the same time, men, particularly cis white men, are statistically at an advantage when it comes to earning power, career progression, and a multitude of other factors. Feminism is the hard work that both men and women have to do to level the playing field—even more so now that the COVID-19 pandemic has exacerbated existing inequalities between men and women, and for women of color especially.

Here, just some of the shocking ways women aren't equal to men, both inside and outside of the United States.

1. Women pay more for common household items than men do.

Shampoo, deodorant—even a 10-pack of socks—are among the many products that cost more for women, according to a 2015 analysis by Marie Claire.

2. The "pink tax" isn't just for personal care items.

Although things like razors and shampoo are the most egregiously upcharged items, the so-called pink tax means that all kinds of items geared at women cost more: Toys and accessories for girls are found to be 7 percent higher. Women pay more for clothes and protective gear like helmets (not to mention bigger-ticket items like mortgages). They even pay more for senior home healthcare products, meaning they pay more for common items from the beginning to the end of their lives.

In October 2020, New York banned the pink tax, and 20 states so far have gotten rid of the tampon tax (i.e., taxes on period products), so hopefully other states will follow suit. As of now, H.R. 3853, the Pink Tax Repeal Act, is still making its way through Congress.

3. Women make less money than their male counterparts.

Although the pay gap is slowly, but surely narrowing, the progress made in the last two decades has nearly stalled. According to the Pew Research Center, American women working full- and part-time in 2022 make 82 cents for every dollar earned by men. To put that number in perspective, women made 80 cents to the dollar in 2002 and 65 cents to each dollar in 1982. 

It's an even grimmer picture overseas: Women worldwide make an average of 20 percent less than the amount paid to men, according to a release from the United Nation's International Labor Organization.

4. For Black, Latina, and women of color, the pay gap is even worse.

Black women have to work 21.5 months to make what white men did in a year, according to the Institute for Women's Policy Research (the current numbers place them as earning $0.63 for every dollar earned by a white, non-Hispanic man). When comparing all women workers regardless of how many hours they worked, that number is even steeper, especially for other women of color. Post Covid-19, Latina women make $0.49 for every dollar, Asian American and Pacific Islander women $0.75 cents for every dollar, and indigenous women $0.50 to every dollar, per research from the National Women's Law Center. 

5. Workplace sexual harassment is so common that it directly contributes to the wage gap.

Workplace sexual harassment and assault is so common that it's driving women, en masse, to resign from their jobs. Reporting such abuse is often unattractive for women due to retaliation and lack of consequences for abusers. Thus, victims feel that in order to prioritize their safety, they must face unemployment, job insecurity, and pay cuts―not to mention the financial sacrifices they make by giving up equity and the potential for upward mobility once they leave their companies.

And what happens to the women who stay in these toxic work environments? Women who stay in jobs where they're being sexually harassed report decreased productivity, greater rates of anxiety and depression, and feelings of disempowerment with regards to negotiating promotions and raises.

6. Corporate hiring processes put women at a systemic disadvantage.

Workplace sexual harassment and the wage gap would be a lot less prevalent if there were more women in management roles, right? So, why not hire more women?

According to Oregon State University's Journal of Management, implicit bias often results in women's resumés being passed over in favor of men's during consideration for executive positions. Interestingly, this bias means that companies frequently hire less qualified candidates (just because they're male, it seems), and suffer significant financial losses as a result.

Even when companies hire internally or within their professional networks, implicit bias makes its way into the process. The Harvard Business Review reports that when companies tap into their inner circles to hire for open roles, it's typically a matter of males contacting their fellow male friends. And because male-dominated fields contain so few women, men solely (often subconsciously) envision other men in open roles. So, when it comes time for people to make shortlists of candidates to consider, those lists are too often bereft of women.

7. Women are underrepresented in government.

Although women make up nearly 51 percent of the U.S. population, only 28 percent of Congress is comprised of women, which—fortunately or unfortunately—makes the current Congress the most diverse in American history. 

Meanwhile, the number of women in government worldwide is improving, although we're still ways off from equal representation. For the first time ever, there are women MPs in every single country on Earth, according to the Inter-Parliamentary Union. However, the bad news is that it will take another 80 years to reach gender parity in parliament. 

8. Women are the minority in the executive suite.

At Fortune 500 companies, women currently account for just 10 percent of CEOs, according to Fortune. Meanwhile, just 8.2 percent of CEOs at Standard & Poor 500 companies are women. Studies also found that women CEOs of Fortune 500 companies have significantly shorter tenures than male CEOs; women at the top tend to stay in their positions for about 44 months on average compared to the 60 months that men do.

There are, however, some positive changes happening: The number of women who sit on Standard & Poor 500 board is up 7 percent from 2020; CNBC reported that S&P companies appointed 413 new independent directors in December 2020, with 59 percent of these appointments going to women and minority men, marking 2020 as the first ever year where every S&P company has at least one woman on its board. Never mind the fact that, per Bloomberg, no women cracked the list of the top five highest-paid CEOs in the stock market index. 

9. Women are also the minority in the news media.

The Women's Media Center's 2021 edition of The Status of Women in the U.S. Media reported that though women comprise 41 percent of the overall news media workforce, they aren't being compensated appropriately; gendered pay disparities are still observable in newsrooms of major outlets like the Associated Press, The Washington Post, and The Wall Street Journal, with men earning substantially more than women.

10. Women are the minority in the tech sector, too.

In 2022, the percentage of women in tech jobs sits firmly at just 25 percent, according to a report from Deloitte. While that is an 11.7 percent increase from 2019, women still have far to go when it comes to making waves in the tech industry. 

It can be attributed, in part, to the simultaneously declining number of female college students planning on entering the tech sector; of the women enrolled in universities across the country, just 20 percent were studying engineering, and only 18 percent were computer science minors. That number has since only increased to about 27.3 percent.

The turnover rate of female employees in tech is also disturbingly high. Women are more than twice as likely to leave their jobs in tech than men, with many citing the lack of advancement opportunities and pay gap as reasons to leave. By age 35, 50 percent of women in tech leave their jobs, which is a rate 45 percent higher than men. 

11. When women enter male-dominated industries, the pay decreases.

As women make the cross over into workspaces mostly occupied by men, often in search of higher salaries with more benefits, the opposite actually happens—the average pay for the industry tends to drop significantly over time, confirms The New York Times.

12. Female entrepreneurs receive less funding and investments.

Getting funding for a startup is hard enough, but sexism and gender inequality often complicate starting one's own business even further. According to findings from All Raise, a nonprofit organization dedicated to the success of female entrepreneurs, only 14 percent of decision-makers at venture capitalists are women. Of the existing VC firms, 63 percent don't have a single female partner. 

Women interested in running their own startup usually meet difficulties when it comes to securing the capital, and All Raise predicts that the number of female VCs will continue to plateau and possibly even decrease over time if nothing is done to change the current industry.

13. Fundraising from female venture capitalists can hurt business

We already know it's tough to obtain funding if you're a female business founder, but when they actually do obtain funding and it happens to come from another woman, their business could hurt in the long run. According to the Harvard Business Review, support from female investors can make it harder for female founders to raise additional funding. In a study of more than 2,000 venture-baked startups, women-led firms which raised funds exclusively from female venture capitalists were found to be two times less likely to raise a second round. 

This can be chalked up to attribution bias, a tendency in which people explain a person's actions by their character or personality. In this case, when people see a female entrepreneur receiving funding from a male investor, they think it's because her business is strong. However, if that same founder were to only receive funds from a female investor, people may assume her success is due to her gender, making it more difficult for that founder to raise funds in the future. 

14. Women still shoulder more of the household burden.

Despite the fact that women are more educated and more employed than ever before, they're still tasked with the majority of household duties. Forbes reported that 54 percent of women take maternity leave, while just 42 percent of men take time away from their jobs. Additionally, women are taking 10 times as much temporary leave to be with their newborns than men do, often saddling them with additional financial burdens. Women are also more likely to work from home, look after sick kids, or even quit their jobs completely to be caretakers.

15. Only 10 countries offer women full legal protections.

Speaking of protections around motherhood, according to a 2022 World Bank study, the U.S.'s lack of laws around parental leave, equal pay, and equal pensions meant it didn't even crack the top 30 countries that offer women full legal equality with men. In fact, only 12 countries scored a perfect 100 percent in terms of legislation ensuring equality: Belgium, France, Denmark, Latvia, Luxembourg, Sweden, Canada, Iceland, Portugal, Greece, Spain, and Ireland. The U.S. scored a 91.3 percent, right alongside Taiwan and Albania.

16. Women are more likely to be injured in car crashes.

And the reason why is depressing and infuriating. A 2011 New York Times article found that women were 47 percent more likely to be injured in car crashes because the safety features were—you guessed it—designed for men. In 2021, a new study by the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS) found that women are still much more likely to be injured, despite men driving more and exhibiting more reckless behavior behind the wheel. Women are 37 to 73 percent more likely to get seriously injured in a crash and 20 to 28 percent more likely to be killed. The underlying cause here was behavior: Men tended to drive larger cars and be the car that struck another vehicle. Another not-so-fun fact? Women pay more for cars, despite this.

17. Women do most of the caregiving.

Caregivers, who often go unpaid, help our loved ones live their day-to-day lives. As it turns out, that stressful job is more often held by women. According to the Family Caregiver Alliance, upwards of 75 percent of all caregivers are female and may spend as much as 50 percent more time giving care than males. The study also found that 36 percent of female caregivers shoulder most of the burden of difficult tasks such as bathing and toileting, compared to 24 percent of male caregivers. 

18. Women are far more likely to be the victims of human trafficking.

According to data from an annual report conducted by the United Nations Office of Drugs and Crime (UNODC), the study found the number of girls forced into trafficking has risen exponentially, most frequently for sexual exploitation. Girls aged between 14 and 17 years old particularly are targeted, which follows the broader pattern of gender and sexual-based violence that also targets teen girls. 

Sexual exploitation remains the most common form of human trafficking; forced labor isn't far behind.

19. Many female soldiers face harassment and sexual assault.

In a 2019 Smithsonian study conducted in conjunction with American military newspaper Stars and Stripes, 66 percent of female service members reported experiencing sexual harassment or sexual assault—and that number is way up from the 27 percent that the Defense Department reported in 2015.

Unfortunately, those numbers haven't gotten any better. Reports of sexual assault in the military have increased from 2020 to 2021 by 13 percent, per CNN. In January 2022, however, President Biden signed an executive order to make sexual harassment an offense under the Uniform Code of Military Justice.

20. Women overall are at a greater risk of rape and domestic violence.

The National Domestic Violence Hotline reports that females ages 18 to 24 and 25 to 34 generally experienced the highest rates of intimate partner violence (IPV). Eighty-one percent of these women (who may have experienced rape, stalking, or physical violence by an intimate partner) reported significant short- or long-term impacts such as post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms and injury.

21. Women are stuck with more household chores than men. 

As much as we would like to think we have made strides in equality, women are still stuck in the stereotypical role of the domestic housewife. A study published in the journal Work, Employment, and Society found that women spend around 16 hours every week doing household chores, whereas men do around six. Even when both the man and woman in the studied couples have full-time jobs, the women were found to be five times more likely than men to spend at least 20 hours a week doing chores. 

22. Retired women are twice as likely as retired men to live in poverty.

As women make less money but live longer, a clear issue presents itself: The longer a woman is on earth, the more money she needs to have in order to survive. Around three out of seven women who want to retire by age 67 will seriously struggle with saving, says CBNC. Survey results from Aon, a global risk, retirement, and health consulting company, show that most women have an average of about 7.6 times their salary saved by that age when they really need to save 11.6 times what they make annually.

23. Women of all ages are more likely than men to live below the poverty line.

Across the U.S., women are 35 percent more likely to be poor than men, according to a report from The Women's Legal Defense and Education Fund. That number worsens for single mothers and women of color. Worldwide, the majority of the more than 1 billion people living in poverty are women, according to the U.N. Furthermore, because climate change disproportionately impacts the world's poor, women are far more vulnerable to the food insecurity, instability, and homelessness brought about by the effects of climate change. 

24. Women and girls face more chronic hunger.

It's estimated that 60 percent of chronically hungry people around the world are women and girls, and it can be a statistic that's a trickle-down effect of larger problems of gender inequality like lack of education, lack of job opportunities, and violence against women. According to WFP Gender Policy and Strategy, high food prices, climate change, and economic instability exacerbate existing inequities. It's not solely a global trend: Women disproportionately experience hunger in the United States when compared to men. In this country, 26.6 percent of families with a single mother live below the poverty line and are more likely to be food insecure at 31.6 percent (compared to 14.9 percent and 21.7 percent for single fathers, respectively).

25. Women spend more on health insurance and healthcare.

Because women have children and live longer, historically they've been considered higher "risks" from a health insurance perspective—meaning they've been charged more. Despite the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) issuing a ruling prohibiting discrimination in health insurance and healthcare in 2013, women still pay more (and get less) from health insurance and their healthcare usage. Data from the Kaiser Family Foundation and Journal of the American Medical Association in 2019 showed that women paid $1,500 more on average on healthcare every year, and yet also skipped out on preventative treatments and other treatments due to cost.

26. Yet female pain and medical issues are not taken as seriously as they are for men.

Did you know that the word "hysteria" has its roots in the Greek term for "uterus"? Well, it seems that in spite of several centuries of gained wisdom about women's high pain threshold, there remains an outrageous societal tendency to underestimate women's pain. Harvard Medical School reports that, on average, women with abdominal pain can expect to wait at least 65 minutes in emergency rooms before being treated for abdominal pain, whereas men can expect to wait 49 minutes. In many cases, women may not be treated or seen by doctors at all, which can have fatal consequences: Women are 7 times more likely to be misdiagnosed and discharged from the hospital while they are having a heart attack, according to The New England Journal of Medicine. Male doctors have been known to blame severe physical pain on things like stress, relationship problems, or the dreaded phrase: "You're just emotional."

This phenomenon is even worse for women of color. Take, for instance, the case of Joyce Echaquan, an indigenous Canadian woman with a pre-existing heart condition who, upon visiting the hospital, was taunted with racial slurs, given strong sedatives, and then left unsupervised. She died in that hospital of an entirely preventable pulmonary edema.

27. Women experience medical side effects to a disproportionate degree because drugs are designed for male bodies.

According to the University of Chicago, women are often excluded from clinical trials for medications because the unfounded (and disproven since 2014) belief that females' hormonal cycles skew test results. Not only are women excluded from clinical trials during later stages of medical research, but labs go so far as to use male mice instead of female mice during early stages of development. Even our basic understandings of illness and symptoms of disease are based on male physiology.

As a result, women are often misdiagnosed and overmedicated, ending up with higher concentrations of medication in their blood than men with the same prescriptions. UC Berkeley found that in 90 percent of cases, women experienced side effects twice as often as men, including cognitive deficits, declines in mental health, nausea, headaches, hallucinations, and cardiac problems.

28. Women are far less represented in STEM.

According to the American Association of University Women (AAUW), women are discouraged from a young age from pursuing careers and academic interests in STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics). Much of this is due to implicit biases that careers in the humanities are feminine while careers in STEM are more masculine. Currently, women make up only 28 percent of the STEM workforce. While this is far better than the 1970s, when women comprised only 8 percent of Americans in STEM, these female professionals still face substantial challenges like workplace sexism, lower pay, a lack of mentorship, and even sexual harassment and assault (take, for instance, the allegations against tech company Activision).

29. Women in Hollywood aren't given the same opportunities as men in the industry.

Behind the scenes, women working in Tinseltown make up only a small portion of the workforce; according a 2022 UCLA study, women make up less than 22 percent of directors in Hollywood and 33 percent of film writers. And if a woman is at the helm of a film, it's more than likely a film with a budget of $20 million is a white man were to direct, according to the study. 

Those numbers appear to be just as dismal around the world as they are in Hollywood. In Europe, just 23 percent of directors are women and 27 percent are screenwriters, per Variety. 

30. Women aren't paid anywhere near as much in Hollywood, either.

Back in 2018, the film All the Money in the World made headlines, but not for the reasons one would expect. It was revealed that Mark Wahlberg made $5 million to do necessary reshoots for the movie while his co-star Michelle Williams only received $625,000. Shocking, but not at all uncommon in Hollywood: Forbes reported that actresses earned only about 35 cents on the dollar compared to their male counterparts in the industry.

31. Men's stories are being told more than women's in film.

Women already have to compete with men in terms of pay in Hollywood, but they also have to compete for screen time. In 2018, Dr. Martha M. Lauzen and her team of researchers reviewed the 100 top-grossing films of the year to determine the differences between men and women on-screen. The study found that men are more often the protagonist in films than women by 52 percent. Additionally, the overall percentage of major female characters in film was just 36 percent, whereas men had 64 percent. 

32. Women have far fewer speaking roles in film than men. 

Another gut-punch to women in film—the complete lack of speaking roles. According to Dr. Lauzen's study, just 35 percent of female characters actually speak in film. In contrast, 65 percent of male film roles are speaking parts. So this means that not only are women's stories not being told, but their voices are literally not being heard either. 

33. Despite being as successful as male athletes, women in sports still face gender inequality.

The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) studied sports coverage and found that there were significant differences in the way that female athletes and their games were discussed in the sports media. Coverage of women in sports, says the organization, is often dominated by references to appearance, age, or family life—men are depicted as powerful, independent, dominating, and valued as athletes.

Besides gendered conversations by sports pundits, female athletes are still trying to fight against the wage gap that exists in the sports world. Most notably, the United States Women's Soccer team recently filed a lawsuit against the U.S. Soccer Federation (USSF) alleging gender discrimination. Despite winning more games and bringing in more revenue than the U.S. Men's team, Megan Rapinoe and her comrades on the USWNT earn less than half of what the men do. Part of the lawsuit was dismissed in 2020 and was only recently, upon appeal, settled.

34. And women's sports are vastly underfunded to begin with.

According to the Women's Sports Foundation, girls and young women have 2.1 million fewer opportunities than their male counterparts to participate in sports, and are more likely to quit sports at a young age due to lack of funding and rapidly decreasing quality in sports programs. As someone who played sports as a kid, I can attest to this: While the boys' soccer team in my high school was coached by a former Division 1 soccer coach, the girls' team was coached by our campus security guard, who openly admitted that he'd never played soccer before and often forgot the word "cleats."

In the United States, Title IX is supposed to be a robust measure ensuring that women's sports receive the same funding and attention as men's sports, but that's simply not the case. In reality, while women make up more than 50 percent of NCAA athletes, they receive only 28 percent of athletic money and 42 percent of athletic scholarships, while men's programs receive 2.5 times the amount of basic funding. 

Why, you may ask, are sports so important for women? Women who play sports during and before college report higher rates of confidence and positive self-image, and are less likely to develop serious health conditions like breast cancer later in life.

35. Women are woefully undereducated about their own bodies and sexualities.

The sex education in this country is a disgrace. I, like many Americans, was taught abstinence-only sex education, meaning that there was no discussion about recreational sex or female pleasure, and contraceptives were talked about as unnatural, last-resort options that were inferior to total abstinence. Countless reputable sources, including Columbia University and the Journal of Adolescent Health, have condemned this sort of education, citing that these tactics "violate adolescent human rights, withhold medically accurate information, stigmatize or exclude many youth, reinforce harmful gender stereotypes, and undermine public health programs."

Not only does sex-shaming sex ed (or a lack of sex ed altogether) result in increased rates of teen pregnancy, STD infection rates, and sexual assault among young women, but they also have consequences that reverberate through the rest of women's lives. When sex ed discusses sex as an act that ends with the culmination of male pleasure, it decentralizes the female experience and takes the possibility of feminine pleasure out of the conversation entirely. This is often why women never figure out what feels good for them, and end up putting up with abusive, dangerous behavior in the bedroom or having sex they describe as "chore-like."

36. Women still don't have bodily autonomy. 

In June 2022, the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, the landmark case that made access to abortion legal in every state. The decision was a major setback for women and the fight for bodily autonomy. In just one ruling, the Supreme Court dismantled almost 50 years of federally protected abortions, and led the way for states to implement their own rules. 

Since the ruling, 12 states have banned or severely restricted abortions, while four have added major restrictions, such as gestational age bans, on abortions. In states where abortions remained legal, abortions have increased roughly by 11 percent, which suggests women now have to travel across state lines to have a safe abortion. Of course, there hasn't been a ruling from the highest court of the country on what a man can do with his body. 

Amanda de Cadenet has been in the public sphere for more than 30 years, best known recently for centering women on her popular podcast, “The Conversation.” Now, she’s ready to explore a new category: men. 

In “The Conversation: About the Men,” the 50-year-old discusses topics including mental health and positive sexual intimacy with notable guests, like Zachary Levi and Mike Tyson, making the argument that what’s needed to advance the feminist movement is for men to step up and be part of the dialogue. 

In the first episode, premiering September 19, de Cadenet spoke candidly with Matthew McConaughey about his childhood experiences of abuse, as well as the importance of teaching consent to his children. The actor also discussed the impact of his 2020 memoir, Greenlights, echoing the podcast's intention. “I've had some people come to me and go, 'you let me know that self reflection is masculine,'” he said. “'You let me know that to write something down in a journal is pretty fucking cool. And at the same time, you remind me that being conscientious is cool.'”

Read on for how de Cadenet fearlessly approaches these nuanced and vulnerable conversations, and the topics she still hopes to broach.

Marie Claire: What made you start this series?

Amanda de Cadenet: Men have had a cultural reckoning. And it was abrasive, it was hard, it was sharp, and it leveled the playing field. The pendulum swung from one way to the other in a short period of time… . So, if we want to create tangible, impactful change for women, regarding men, we need to have them involved in the conversation.

MC: How did you approach this idea knowing that spaces like this have been controlled and dominated by men for years?

ADC: In deciding that I was going to focus some of my attention on men, and how we redefine masculinity, I had multiple people ask me, “Well, why are you giving a platform to men who have enough of a platform?” The point is: When was the last time you spoke to a man—who has a public voice—in an honest, thoughtful, engaged, and vulnerable way? Most people will say never. So what I'm really interested in doing is building bridges.  

MC: You have some major names featured in this series, from Matthew McConaughey to Mike Tyson. What were some of those conversations like? 

ADC: Matthew McConaughey spoke in such an articulate, educated, thoughtful way about what it means to be a man [today]. Charlamagne tha God talked about mental health and his experience with sexual assault as a child with such vulnerability. Mike Tyson—this is a man who has survived the unsurvivable in many regards; I know this is a man who comes from immense trauma... . This guy is a fighter, literally and metaphorically. He never gave up on himself. And he could have. 

MC: What kind of envelope-pushing conversations were you having while working on this series?

ADC: The thing that happened that accelerated me doing this series was the overturning of Roe v. Wade. I was really disappointed with how few men had active voices in the horror that women's rights were stripped away, seemingly overnight. A lot of women I know had abortions because their partners wanted them to have abortions. In my book, [It’s Messy,] I wrote about having an abortion as well. So, I also talked about Roe v. Wade, with the guys on the show, and I've had great conversations about their feelings about the fact that the women in their lives—their sisters, their friends, their partners—are affected by this. 

MC: Do you think that by centering men in these conversations, the podcast—and by extension, the topics you’re discussing—will receive more attention?

ADC: I'm really interested in speaking to people outside of the echo chamber. I firmly believe that in order for us to learn, we have to get exposed to different concepts, different theories, and different ideas. I picked [podcast guests] based on their life experiences and their perspectives because you cannot say we're talking to men about redefining masculinity in 2022 without having a diverse group of voices. 

MC: Are there any other topics, outside of your comfort zone, that you hope to cover in this series? 

ADC: I'm trying to speak to an incel. I have yet to find anyone who is a self-identified incel. But if we're going to talk about masculinity, we must not ignore the fringe. This didn't come from nothing. Incels don't end up incels and identifying with this group of people for nothing…people experience things in their lives that help define and shape their mindsets. From having interviewed thousands and thousands of people over so many years, I know when you start digging into people's backgrounds, you just understand a lot more about why they think and the way they think.

MC: Where do you hope to see this series go? 

ADC: I'm just one woman with this perspective. But I know  if I'm having these conversations privately, that there are so many people having these conversations privately [as well], and so that feels like a good time to bring them out into the public... . I'm hopeful that it opens the door for really important, needed conversations around masculinity, and I hope it creates a space for multiple, diverse genders to be able to communicate together.

New episodes of “The Conversation: About the Men” drop every Monday. 

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. 

A tale as old as time: Woman wears a see-through dress; men get upset.

Florence Pugh wore a breathtaking Barbie pink gown for the Valentino Haute Couture show in Milan, a halter-neck, froofy, tulle affair, which she paired with matching platforms, handbag, earrings and ring.

The actress looked stunning and the dress happened to be see-through enough to show her nipples. I know, imagine the horror!

So yeah, predictably, commenters ran wild on Pugh's original Instagram post, hilariously captioned, "Technically they’re covered?"

Amid the sea of complimentary comments, people felt compelled to tell the star exactly how they felt about her breasts—that they were too small, too visible, too present, and that this made them uncomfortable.

Pugh knew it was coming, because she's a woman in the public eye and she knows how these things go. This, thankfully, didn't stop her from showing off what was for all intents and purposes a truly beautiful look.

In a second post, she eloquently expressed exactly how she felt about people's unsolicited opinions on her body, and it's really worth a read if you have a few minutes:

"Listen, I knew when I wore that incredible Valentino dress that there was no way there wouldn’t be a commentary on it. Whether it be negative or positive, we all knew what we were doing.

"I was excited to wear it, not a wink of me was nervous. I wasn’t before, during or even now after.

"What’s been interesting to watch and witness is just how easy it is for men to totally destroy a woman’s body, publicly, proudly, for everyone to see. You even do it with your job titles and work emails in your bio..?

"It isn’t the first time and certainly won’t be the last time a woman will hear what’s wrong with her body by a crowd of strangers, what’s worrying is just how vulgar some of you men can be.

"Thankfully, I’ve come to terms with the intricacies of my body that make me, me. I’m happy with all of the ‘flaws’ that I couldn’t bear to look at when I was 14.

"So many of you wanted to aggressively let me know how disappointed you were by my ‘tiny tits’, or how I should be embarrassed by being so ‘flat chested’.

"I’ve lived in my body for a long time. I’m fully aware of my breast size and am not scared of it.

"What’s more concerning is…. Why are you so scared of breasts? Small? Large? Left? Right? Only one? Maybe none?

"What. Is. So. Terrifying.

"It makes me wonder what happened to you to be so content on being so loudly upset by the size of my boobs and body..?

"I’m very grateful that I grew up in a household with very strong, powerful, curvy women. We were raised to find power in the creases of our body. To be loud about being comfortable. It has always been my mission in this industry to say ‘fuck it and fuck that’ whenever anyone expects my body to morph into an opinion of what’s hot or sexually attractive.

"I wore that dress because I know.

"If being loudly abusive towards women publicly in 2022 is so easy for you, then the answer is that it is you who doesn’t know.

"Grow up. Respect people. Respect bodies. Respect all women. Respect humans. Life will get a whole lot easier, I promise.

"And all because of two cute little nipples….

"Oh! The last slide is for those who feel more comfortable with that inch of darker skin to be covered…"

The proverbial mic has been dropped.

In 2011, when Katie was married, she took her husband’s last name. She became Katie Ann Kitchens—a name phonetic and rich in alliteration which was ideal for a public-facing entrepreneur. The former lifestyle journalist cofounded the company FabFitFun in 2010 as an editorial site, and it has since expanded into an ecommerce juggernaut complete with a monthly curated subscription box. Last year, it amassed two million members, employed 300 people, and generated $600 million in annual revenue, as reported by Forbes. 

As her company expanded, so, too, did Katie’s full name. In 2018, just a month before FabFitFun would announce $80 million in Series A venture capital funding, a conversation with her mom about representation inspired her to add back her maiden name (Rosen), as well as her mother’s maiden name (Echevarria). The move pays homage to the life and career she built before she was married. And topping it off with her mom’s surname is a nod to her identity as a Latinx founder, and a commemoration to the achievements of her late mother, Dr. Wanda Echevarria Rosen, who is from Puerto Rico. 

Today, the cofounder of FabFitFun goes by Katie Ann Echevarria Rosen Kitchens. 

More and more, women are deciding to keep their maiden names. The most recent comprehensive study on women's last names, which was conducted in 2015 by The New York Times, reported that about 30% of women have decided to keep their maiden names in some way after getting married. The number has risen since the 1980s and 1990s, when only 14% and 18% of women kept their maiden names, respectively. 

Here, Katie explains why updating her name was both a personal and professional decision. 

When I married my husband 10 years ago, I dropped my father’s surname, Rosen. But one day in 2018 I was home with my mother watching a movie starring Jennifer Lopez when I started rethinking my name. I was pregnant with my second daughter, shortly after Chrismukkah (our combined celebration of Christmas and Hanukkah), and we were watching Enough. I recall my mother tearing up as she explained to me what a big deal it was to have Latina representation in television and film, which was nonexistent when she was growing up. 

My mother and my father, Sy Rosen, met in graduate school where they studied therapy and embarked on a 50-year journey together. My mom waited until after having a child to get her Ph.D. She studied at night and still managed to be a loving, hands-on mom. And I will tell you, when she got the title of Dr., she made sure that it went on every mailing address we had. 

My mom was a true feminist, a true hippie and used all of her family names: Wanda Vidal Echevarria Rosen. I never officially changed my name but used my married name, Kitchens, both professionally and personally after I got married. For awhile, I dropped my mom’s maiden name, thinking four names were already too much. And I rarely used Rosen for the sake of brevity. But that JLo movie night with my mom made me think about how we identify ourselves publicly. 

I lost my mom last year so it’s harder to talk about now, but for her, there was something about seeing a woman who she felt a connection with, starring in this female empowerment movie, combined with the fact that she herself broke all the glass ceilings to be the first one in her family to go to college and get her Ph.D. She also expressed joy in seeing my success at FabFitFun. That night in front of the TV—that was the moment. 

It struck me that there aren't a lot of Latina founders on the forefront of the startup economy. So, I decided to bring back my maiden name and, on top of that, my mom's maiden name. These days it takes a longer time for me to sign a credit card receipt, but if there's some girl out there in any shape or form who identifies as Latinx and recognizes my roots, then the extra names are worth it. 

I don’t want to give up the whole identity I had before I married my husband. I was a whole person before meeting him. I’m a better person with him—but we, as women, don’t need to give up ourselves. As I mentioned, my mom always went by Dr. Echevarria Rosen. I started thinking this should be the norm. 

I married Daniel in 2011. He’s from Georgia but we met in Marina Del Rey, California where we bonded over a love of music and a shared sense of humor. We’re lucky to have two beautiful children and are true equals and co-parents. He completely understands why I would want to keep my identity. It’s a celebration of two families uniting versus changing who we are because society suggests we do.

What did my in-laws think? I married into a traditional Southern family, where the expectation is you change your name but they don't expect the traditional from me. I mean, right now I have purple hair. I don't do things the same way people do things and that has played a part in the success of FabFitFun. 

Daniel and I have two daughters, Summer and Siena Kitchens, ages 6 and 9.  I'll support whatever they decide to do with their names—as long as they are being true to themselves. 

Reshma Saujani is known for many things. There’s her groundbreaking nonprofit Girls Who Code, her three bestselling books, and her new nonprofit, The Marshall Plan For Moms. Plus, she ran for office twice. She’s always pivoting for the sake of women’s rights. But behind the scenes of her dynamic career, Saujani struggled personally with starting the family she so desperately wanted. 

Like so many women, Saujani suffered in silence as she tried to get pregnant and carry to term. “There's so much shame and silence around it,” Saujani said. “I thought that was just the price of motherhood, of wanting to be a mom, of wanting to be a boss.”

Her struggles with fertility started when she ran for Congress in 2010, on the heels of President Obama’s historic election. She was 33 and ready to take on the Democratic establishment. Saujani had great credentials: the daughter of refugees, a graduate of Yale Law, and the first Indian-American woman to run for Congress. Still, many discouraged her run for office.

“I was constantly told, ‘It's not your turn. Wait in line. It's not your turn.’ And here I was, this brown girl, who is supposed to represent everything that we were talking about doing in this country, and I was constantly silenced,” said Saujani, “I had all of these women who I admired who were just not happy about it. I remember I went up to Gloria Steinem and she's like, ‘Why are you doing that?” 

But Saujani was driven. So when she learned she was pregnant while running for Congress in 2010, she felt it was the culmination of her two dreams: running for office and being a mother. 

Then she had her first miscarriage—the first of many. And after a grueling race for Public Advocate for New York City 2013, Saujani declined a senior position in the New York City Mayor’s office and quit politics. But instead of abandoning her dreams of making a difference, she shifted her focus to building Girls Who Code. Eventually, the nonprofit became one of the largest pipelines for women in STEM. Since starting in 2012, the organization has taught hundreds of thousands of girls how to code and aimed to close the gender gap in technology.

As Girls Who Code grew, Saujani’s fertility struggles continued. Fueled by what she calls “the big lie,” she conflated success with “doing it all.” 

“I'd have a miscarriage and then I'd be on stage introducing Obama, smile, smile, smile. I would have another miscarriage, and then I would be there in Utah with 600 girls, smile, smile, smile,” Saujani said. “And so, I don't think that my closest friends, even my team, never really knew my private hell that was happening behind the scenes.”

With her new book, Pay Up, Saujani is challenging the unequal expectations of women and moms, both in the workplace and at home. Like many women, Saujani was crushed by the pandemic and thought if she just worked harder and pushed past her struggles with pregnancy, then she could have it all. Although she no longer runs Girls Who Code, her new movement, the Marshall Plan for Moms, is a direct solution to the inequities women experience at home and at work. Saujani, now a mother of two, lays out a blueprint for how to make “the workplace work for moms” in her book. 

“I bought into this thing that we even had a shot at equality,” Saujani shared. “If we just got a mentor, if we just color-coded our calendar, if we just raised our hands more without thinking about what we wanted to say, if we were just braver. [It’s] what I call the big lie of corporate feminism, and I had been selling it. Like, I had been selling it, dishing it out.”

In this episode of “She Pivots,” Saujani discusses how each pivot of her career—and her new outlook on the future of workplace equality—has empowered her to advocate for herself, as well as girls and women across the country.  

Emily Tisch Sussman sits down with women weekly on She Pivots to learn about how their personal journeys led to their pivot. Listen to the full conversation on She Pivots, wherever you get your podcasts. Subscribe, leave us a rating and follow us at @ShePivotsThePodcast! 

Femininity isn't a bad word—it's just a misunderstood one.

Some brands shy away from what could be conceived as ultra-feminine marketing (here's looking at you, green M&M who no longer wears high heels) while others lean too heavily into archaic and gender conforming stereotypes around femininity (pink! hot pink!). And society still tries to equate all things feminine to frivolity or a female's physicality. 

While it's impossible to ever fully, accurately pinpoint "femininity"—part of what makes it so wonderful is its ever-evolving, nuanced, and individualized definitions—we wanted to get a more wholistic view of how real women interpreted the concept, giving them the chance to redefine it in their own terms. 

Over the course of Women's History Month, Marie Claire posed the question, "What does femininity mean, to you, in 2022?" to a host of notable women we interacted with. From Malala Yousafzai, activist and author of Podium on Bulletin; to Sarah Michelle Gellar, actress and The Little Market Council Member; to Gwen Stefani, singer and founder of beauty company GXVE; and many more, here's what we heard. 

March is hailed as Women's History Month, but, in reality, women and feminism deserve to be celebrated every day. From catcalling to the wage gap, women too often get the short end of the socioeconomic stick in a myriad of ways, and maintaining constant awareness of the need for equality is the only way to ensure that all women, regardless of race, sexuality, or class, are treated equal. 

You might ask: What can we do to keep this awareness up? In addition to advocating, educating ourselves, and supporting female creatives and entrepreneurs, we can also wear our politics on our sleeves. Fashion is an excellent way of making a statement and reminding ourselves and those around us of what matters—not to mention, fashion is fun! So check out some of our favorite feminist t-shirts that you can grab right now to wear your values and show the people around you how you feel.

She discovered basketball in a grade-school sports class, and her dream began. She imagined training every day and improving her skills, playing on a team. Sounds simple enough, but as a girl growing up in Afghanistan, she knew it might be impossible.

At the time, opportunities were opening up for women and girls following the ouster of the oppressive Taliban regime by U.S.-led forces in 2001. But women and girls still faced many battles for their basic rights—including the right to go to school, play sports, and get a job. “When schools opened at that time, most people didn’t give permission for their girls to go,” says Amina, whose name has been changed for this story to protect her family. “Some of my relatives told my father, ‘Why do you send your girl to day school? She should be in the house. She should learn the house chores because in the future she should get married.’ ”

Through sheer determination, Amina managed to achieve her goal, joining the Afghan women’s national team before the age of 20. Basketball gave her the opportunity to travel beyond her city, and eventually, her country, for the first time. She pictured herself using the confidence and experience she had gained to become a government leader one day, continuing to change people’s perspectives on women’s rights. 

But she wouldn’t get the chance.

When the Taliban seized control of the country amid the withdrawal of U.S. troops in August 2021, women faced a harsh new reality. “In Afghanistan now, the Taliban are actively depriving women of livelihoods, sports, schooling, and identity,” says Minky Worden, director of global initiatives at Human Rights Watch, a nonprofit that investigates and exposes abuses around the world. “Among the very first acts by the Taliban was banning all sports for women and girls. That sent a harsh message to Afghan women and girls that they have no right to be healthy and happy in public.” Indeed, a Taliban official said in September that women would not be allowed to play sports that would leave their bodies “exposed,” an edict in line with the militant group’s history of forcing women to cover themselves from head to toe.

Amina’s basketball career was not only over, but it put her life at risk. “She was a national player with high visibility in traditional and social media,” says Mara Gubuan, founder of Equality League, a nonprofit focused on gender equality in sports that has been working with Afghan women athletes to help them get to safety. Amina’s prominence made her a prime target, given the Taliban’s long history of violence against women: Under prior Taliban rule, women were not even allowed to leave the house without a male companion; those who did risked being flogged, stoned, or executed. Amina had taken on a public role—the Taliban could decide to make an example of her.

Amina knew she needed to find a way out. It seemed like another impossible dream, but that had never stopped her before. Her quest to escape the country—and the story of how she managed to make it happen—is a testament to her courage and strength, and a window into life for women in Afghanistan. But it’s not over yet.

Amina is accustomed to fighting battles for her freedoms; she has been doing so since she was a child, pursuing her love of basketball against the odds. She started by sneaking off to a local gym after school to practice with a city girls’ team, telling her parents she was doing extra coursework. But when the coach wanted her to travel to a competition in the capital of Kabul, she had to ask her parents—a daunting task.

She gathered the courage to open up to her mother, hoping she would break the news to her dad. “My mom always supported me and tried to change my father’s ideas,” she says. But news of the basketball team came as a shock. “She said, ‘What? If your father hears, he will take you out of school. And what will our neighbors say about you?’ ” Amina recalls. 

She eventually convinced her mother to talk to her dad, but it didn’t go well. Amina listened from another room. “My mom cried, ‘You should support your girl; she is good. You can go to the gymnasium and speak with her coach. You will see her friends; they are all good people. She will be healthy and happy.’ He was shouting, ‘I never should have let her go to school; she became a bad girl,’ ” Amina says. “I think he worried about our culture, our customs; he worried about other people.”

Frustrated, Amina refused to eat until her father agreed to meet with the coach. “My coach spoke a lot with my father about my future,” she says. “He said, ‘One day, you will be proud of your daughter.’ Because my coach was an old man, my father accepted that.” Her dad said she could play on the team, as long as she didn’t tell her relatives.

She laughs as she recalls traveling to Kabul for the first time. She had never flown on an airplane before. Girls rarely traveled anywhere without their parents. “It was the first trip in my life. I took just my basketball clothes and basketball shoes,” she says—it hadn’t occurred to her to bring anything else. When she wanted to take a shower, she had to ask her teammates to borrow shampoo, much to their amusement.

She joined the Afghan women’s national team in 2010, a proud moment for both her and her family. “My father 100 percent changed,” she says. “After that, my father gave permission to my sister: ‘You should go to basketball.’ I was very happy because I could change my father’s mind.” 

While on the team, Amina started college and got married. “I had a crazy schedule,” she says. She faced more battles as well: Some of her in-laws disapproved of her playing basketball and criticized her husband for it. “They said, ‘Why do you give permission for your wife to go to the gymnasium? She should be in the house,’ ” she says. “But my husband and my father-in-law supported me.”

She soon started a family and got a job with an international nonprofit teaching literacy to women, to help bring in some money. She took a couple years off from basketball, rejoining the national team in 2014. She was steadily rising in prominence, advocating for women in sports in the media and planning to get a master’s degree, when Taliban forces began seizing cities across the country.

Amina knew what that meant: “If they took Afghanistan, there is no way for me; life is not valuable for me,” she says, adding that above all else, “I was worried about my family, my husband, because, always, he supported me.”

In early August, she heard the sounds of shooting and fires as the Taliban stormed her city. When the militants took control on August 12, she scrambled to find a way to flee. She decided to head to the airport in Kabul, quickly packing a few items of clothing for her family. She didn’t know how they would manage to catch a flight out of the country. She just knew she had to try.

Before she left home, she hid her basketball certificates and paraphernalia so the items wouldn’t put her parents at risk if the Taliban were to find them. She took her university diploma, which she hid in her pants in case the Taliban stopped her at a checkpoint and took issue with her being an educated woman. “I heard the Taliban was everywhere and they would search every person,” she says. Then she crammed onto a bus with her family, on a journey to an uncertain fate.

When Amina arrived in Kabul three days later, she saw the Taliban celebrating in the streets, firing their guns into the air. Her family found a room at a shabby hotel near the bus station. Depressed and exhausted, she couldn’t believe that her future and her hard-won freedoms had suddenly disappeared. “In one moment, everything changed,” she says. “Like a dream, I tried to wake up, but I couldn’t.”

When she heard that it might be possible for vulnerable Afghans to board U.S. military flights amid the U.S. evacuation, she felt more hopeful. She texted her teammates to see if they wanted to try to evacuate with her, and some met up with her at the hotel. They tried to make their way to the airport, but chaos reigned—thousands of people were rushing to try to catch flights out of the country. “I thought, All of Afghanistan is here,” she says. Day after day, Amina’s family and teammates kept trying to get through the crush of people, to no avail. On August 26, when a suicide bomber killed at least 180 people outside the airport, her family had left the area just a few hours earlier to head back to the hotel.

The U.S. military evacuation concluded at the end of August, leaving control of the airport to the Taliban. Amina lost hope. At the hotel, things were getting dicey; she and her husband had run out of money, and her teammates worried that they would draw the Taliban’s attention for being single women staying in a hotel. To their relief, a man Amina had met through the sports world, who is not being identified in this story to protect his family, said they could take shelter at his house in Kabul.

Little did Amina know, she had an advocate a world away in America. Equality League’s Gubuan was determined to help Afghan women athletes escape. Her colleague Nida Ahmad, Ph.D., contacted an Afghan member of the International Olympic Committee, Samira Asghari, requesting rosters of the women’s national teams. Gubuan got the list of names and started contacting global organizations that she hoped could help. When she learned that FIFA, the world governing body for soccer, would be evacuating members of the women’s soccer community, Gubuan sent along the names of women on the other national teams, including Amina and her basketball teammates. FIFA said it could help members of the basketball team as well.

When Amina heard the news, she felt a flicker of hope again. 

FIFA arranged for Amina’s family, teammates, and the man who had sheltered them in Kabul to board a flight to Canada, via Qatar, in October. And not a moment too soon. Amina heard that just days earlier, the Taliban had shown up at the gym where she used to train, demanding information about the women who played there.

To help the group get through the tangle of Taliban checkpoints, Gubuan’s team forwarded letters that FIFA said were from the Canadian government. The letters said that each person had been granted a visa to enter Canada.

Letters in hand, the group headed out to the airport. The journey was fraught: When one woman’s scarf blew off her head at a checkpoint, a Taliban soldier snatched her passport and grilled her harshly, lecturing her to “wear a hijab,” Amina says. Relief came only when the man who had sheltered the team intervened.

Amina’s group—some 30 people total—managed to make it through the mayhem onto the flight to Qatar. FIFA helped evacuate more than 120 additional people at risk due to their links to women’s sports.

As Amina watched her homeland disappear through the airplane window, she had mixed feelings. “It was an amazing day for every one of us,” she says, but while she looked forward to a life of freedom in Canada, she was also saying goodbye to her parents and other beloved family members, with no idea when she might see them again, if ever.

Amina and her group made it to Qatar, but then, an unexpected blow: Canadian officials said the group did not have visas to enter the country.

The news came as a profound disappointment. Amina had believed she would be starting a new life in Canada. Now everything was uncertain. Her group was rerouted to Albania, where they were offered temporary visas. Her love of basketball had left her stateless.

When asked about the letters Amina’s group carried, Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada told Marie Claire in a statement, “In order to help facilitate the evacuation of vulnerable Afghans, the Government of Canada directly sent an email to impacted IRCC applicants; the email contained a letter addressed to the applicant intended to assist them in getting through checkpoints on the way to the airport.” But Amina and her companions weren’t applicants for refugee status at the time and hadn’t received the letters directly from the Canadian government. In its statement, IRCC said it is “not able to speculate as to what third-party communications some individuals may have received.”

Gubuan, whose team had received the letters from FIFA to forward to the athletes, notes that it was an extremely chaotic time and that protocols “flew out the window” in an urgent, good-faith effort to help vulnerable Afghans.

In a statement, FIFA did not address the letters specifically but told Marie Claire, “Since August 2021, FIFA has been working intensively to support the safe evacuation of members of the Afghan sporting family. … FIFA remains in contact with various authorities and organizations, including the Canadian government, to help find a permanent home for the group currently in Albania.”

Today, Amina’s family and teammates are living in limbo, staying at a hotel in Albania on temporary visas. She says she is very grateful to everyone who has helped her, and she is enjoying being able to play basketball again, but she is deeply anxious to know where she will resettle. She and her family have few personal belongings with them, just the clothes they packed in a pair of backpacks. 

Gubuan points out that the basketball players will be leaders wherever they land. “Playing sport was never easy for them—there were so many objectors and oppressors. Their fortitude to take up sport shows strength of character,” she says. “These women are not only successful in sport, but in life. They were productive in their country, and they want to be productive in their resettlement country.” She notes that individuals and small nonprofits such as Equality League stepped up when the crisis hit, but she expects international sports bodies and human rights organizations to assume future responsibility for safeguarding athletes, including the many women and girls who remain in Afghanistan hoping for refuge.

Worden at Human Rights Watch agrees. “Equality League is doing the work that UN agencies or governments should be doing: finding ways for the team to stay together, continue to train, and rebuild their lives somewhere where playing sports is not a crime.”

When Amina finds a home, she wants to become a voice for the forgotten women athletes of Afghanistan. To that end, she is working with Equality League to receive training to advocate for herself, her teammates, and others. For her future country, wherever that may be, she has a message: “We will make you proud.”

For information on how you can get involved, go to Equality League.

Even if you've donated to Black Lives Matter, protested alongside your fellow citizens, and held discussions with those close to you, as allies, there is always more you can do to educate yourself about the lived experience of Black people in the United States. Look at your bookshelf and the authors on it; are you missing something or someone? If so, you've come to the right place.

We rounded up the best books from Black women authors—as they've been publishing prolific works for ages, from being some of the most iconic names in literary fiction to being some of today's best-sellers. The list spans genres, and there's something in the mix for everyone, whether you're a fan of romance novels, queer literature, inspiring memoirs, or just a compelling, life-changing story. Check out our recommendations below, and get ready to find your next favorite author.

2021 has given us some incredible books. While you're perusing through this year's top releases, expect a brilliant mix of fiction from bestselling authors like Morgan Jerkins and Sally Rooney, along with an invitation into the lives of prominent figures like Senator Mazie K. Hirono in Heart of Fire and Tarana Burke in Unbound. Ahead, our list of the best books of 2021 to order today and thank yourself later.

If you're looking for a psychological drama about motherhood, Ashley Audrain's The Push takes readers inside the mind of main character Blythe who questions her relationship with her daughter when she's born, forcing her to eventually confront some truths about herself. 

Available January 5, 2021

When teen activist Kezi Smith is killed after attending a social justice rally, her family is left to wonder what it actually means to be "one of the good ones."

Available January 5, 2021

Robert Jones, Jr.'s debut novel, The Prophets, is a queer love story centered on two enslaved men, Isaiah and Samuel, who live together on a plantation in the Deep South—forced to confront oppression, betrayal, and ultimately, the threat of their existence.  

Available January 5, 2021

Twenty-two-year-old Darren seemingly goes from a Starbucks employee to a ruthless salesperson at an NYC tech startup overnight, becoming unrecognizable to his family. After tragedy strikes, he turns his grief into action by devising a plan to help young people of color enter America's salesforce and achieve the "American dream."

Available January 12, 2021

When Reese's girlfriend Amy decides to detransition and become "Ames," Reese finds herself engaging in self-destructive behavior. Things get even more complicated when Ames impregnates his boss and lover, Katrina. Alas, it gives him a chance to decide whether this is an opportunity to have both Reese and Katrina in his life.

Available January 12, 2021

Nadia Owusu's gripping memoir helps readers struggling with their own identity feel seen through Owusu's recount of her unstable childhood, family secrets, and depression that eventually lead to her self-discovery. 

Available January 12, 2021

Tweet Cute author Emma Lord returns with You Have a Match, where main character Abby finds out that she has a secret sister who she decides to meet at summer camp. Expect some juicy drama to follow. 

Available January 12, 2021

Fans of The Hate U Give will be excited to learn Angie Thomas' second book in the series, Concrete Rose, takes readers to Garden Heights 17 years before the events in the first novel. 

Available January 12, 2021

In Run to Win, EMILY's List President Stephanie Schriock and VP of Communications Christina Reynolds create a guide on how to run for office and win. It includes a foreword from Vice President Kamala Harris who knows a thing or two about winning. 

Available January 12, 2021

When a workaholic marketing manager and a remote social media manager (who are both up for the same promotion!) are forced to go on a company cruise together, they discover that their virtual love/hate relationship may not include much hate in real life after all. 

Available January 19, 2021

Readers who have been longing for new Joan Didion will be thrilled to learn she's publishing 12 previously uncollected essays in Let Me Tell You What I Mean.

Available January 26, 2021

If you happen to love a good romance and NPR, look no further than Rachel Lynn Solomon's The Ex Talk. 

Available January 26, 2021

Soon to be a Netflix film starring Millie Bobby Brown, The Girls I've Been centers on Nora, the daughter of a con woman, who is caught in a bank heist and determined to get herself, her girlfriend, and her ex/best friend out safely...no matter what it takes. 

Available January 26, 2021

Behold a psychological novel about a girl who escapes captivity, and later finds herself at the very place she escaped from—forced to confront her identity as "Girl A." 

Available February 2, 2021

In Surviving the White Gaze, cultural critic Rebecca Carroll reflects on her childhood growing up Black in a white rural New Hampshire town and how she forged her path as a Black woman in America.

Available February 2, 2021

If you're obsessed with Florida, Dantiel W. Moniz's Milk Blood Heat uses the state as a backdrop to tell compelling stories of ordinary people in this memorable debut. 

Available February 2, 2021

In This Close to Okay, Leesa Cross-Smith tells the story of recently-divorced therapist Tallie Clark, who spots a man named Emmett on a bridge who's seemingly trying to end his life. As they learn more about each other (the book is told in alternating perspectives), Tallie chooses not to tell him she's a therapist. Instead, they have to learn the truth about each other—and themselves—the hard way.

Available February 2, 2021

Allow Lauren Oyler to take you on a wild ride in Fake Accounts, where a woman discovers her boyfriend is an anonymous online conspiracy theorist. Believe it or not, that's only the beginning.

Available February 2, 2021

When Pong Lou, a Chinese American entrepreneur, takes Tiller, an average American college student, with him on a trip across Asia, his perspective on life is forever changed. 

Available February 2, 2021

Rachel Ricketts's Do Better: Spiritual Activism for Fighting and Healing from White Supremacy addresses anti-racism from a spiritually-aligned perspective, providing readers with a guidebook on how to fight racial injustice and white supremacy from the inside out.

Available February 2, 2021

Nancy Johnson's The Kindest Lie finds main character, Ruth, back in her hometown that's plagued with racism and despair during the 2008 financial crisis. There she befriends Midnight, a young white boy who helps her uncover secrets from her past. 

Available February 2, 2021

Featuring an incredible roster of writers, Kink is a short fiction collection that explores love, lust, BDSM, and more, edited by bestselling author R.O. Kwon and Garth Greenwell.  

Available February 9, 2021

In Sparks Like Stars, Sitara Zamani is transported to a new American life after communists staged a coup in her home of Afghanistan, assassinating the president and her entire family. Forty years later, she encounters the soldier who saved her (and may have been responsible for her family's death), prompting her to return to the country for answers. 

Available March 2, 2021

There's something about Mari Andrew's words and illustrations that make you feel at home. My Inner Sky reminds readers of the shared grief, joy, and sorrow that we experience throughout life—and how to cope with it.

Available March 2, 2021

If you've been consumed with imposter syndrome or, frankly, anything that's been holding you back in life, allow New York Times bestselling author and keynote speaker Luvvie Ajayi Jones to help you tackle that fear through her signature wit and refreshing honesty.

Available March 2, 2021

Patricia Engel's Infinite Country takes readers into the lives of a Columbian family who has immigrated to the U.S. and is forced to weigh the all-too-familiar struggle of risking deportation or willingly returning to the very country they decided to flee from. 

Available March 2, 2021

When the fictional African village of Kosawa is being destroyed by an American oil company, the people residing in the village decide to fight back, prepared for the consequences that they'll face. 

Available March 9, 2021

Jasmine Mans's highly-anticipated poetry collection, Black Girl, Call Home, beautifully illustrates what it's like to be a queer Black woman in America. 

Available March 9, 2021

Talia Hibbert's third book in the Brown Sisters series focuses on the unpredictable Eve Brown and the unexpected love she finds at the bed and breakfast she interviewed as a chef for. She may or may not have also ~ accidentally ~ hit the owner with her car, but we'll leave the rest of that story for the book. 

Available March 9, 2021

In Justice, Justice Thou Shalt Pursue, readers will learn even more details about the late Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg's family life and lifelong career fighting for gender equality. The book was heading into production around the time of RBG's death. 

Available March 16, 2021

Gabriela Garcia's Of Women and Salt spans across multiple generations of women living in Cuba, Miami, and Mexico and the decisions they have made that ultimately connect—and shape—their lives. 

Available March 30, 2021

In Reconstruction-era Brooklyn, Libertie Sampson is conflicted between the life she feels compelled to live and the one her mother wants for her: to go to medical school and become a doctor. Things become increasingly complicated when Libertie accepts the marriage of a man from Haiti, only to discover her freedom is further limited as a Black woman in their relationship. 

Available March 30, 2021

In The Beauty of Living Twice, actress and humanitarian Sharon Stone reflects on how she rebuilt her life after a massive stroke that altered her family, love, and career. 

Available March 30, 2021 

Here, Melissa Febos brilliantly explores society's definition of becoming a woman and the values—or lack thereof—it taught her growing up. 

Available March 30, 2021 

Caroline Kepnes is back with the third book in the You series (yes, the original books from the Netflix series). This time around, Joe is headed to the Pacific Northwest and, well, you probably have an idea of what happens next. 

Available April 6, 2021

Morgan Jerkins's first work of fiction is about a woman named Laila, desperate to become a mother, who's in search of a caul from an old and powerful family in Harlem known as the Melancons. What follows is a deep search for familial connection after Laila's niece, Amara, gives birth to a child named Hallow that she gives to the Melancons to raise. When Hallow and Amara cross paths years later, Hallow must decide where she truly belongs.

Available April 6, 2021

Helen Oyeyemi, bestselling author of Gingerbread, returns with another magical storyline. This time, in Peaces, a couple finds themselves on a sleeper train that turns out to be anything but ordinary. 

Available April 6, 2021

Paula McLain, New York Times bestselling author of The Paris Wife, is back with When the Stars Go Dark—a story about a detective named Anna Hart who becomes obsessed with a missing persons report in her hometown that's reminiscent of an unsolved murder from her childhood.

Available April 13, 2021

Yaara Shehori's debut centers on two deaf sisters, Lili and Dori Ackerman, raised by deaf parents who refuse to let them interact with anything or anybody in the world of hearing. That is, until they suddenly find themselves in it and are forced to relearn everything they've been taught. 

Available April 13, 2021

Uzma Jalaluddin's rom-com with competing halal restaurants is exactly the kind of novel we need in 2021. 

Available April 13, 2021

Mazie K. Hirono, the first Asian-American woman and the only immigrant serving in the U.S. Senate, shares her inspiring journey growing up in rural Japan and eventually becoming one of the most influential members of Congress.

Available April 20, 2021

If you read Michelle Zauner's viral New Yorker essay about crying in H Mart after her mother's death, you'll want to order her memoir, which expands on the essay, immediately. 

Available April 20, 2021

At last, Jenny Lee's Anna K—a modern adaptation of Anna Karenina—returns with its sequel, Anna K Away, set over the course of the next summer after Alexia Vronsky's tragic death.

Available April 27, 2021

Tarana Burke, acclaimed activist and founder of the Me Too movement, and Dr. Brené Brown, New York Times bestselling author and professor, teamed up to create an anthology on the Black experience that includes essays from some of the most vital voices of our time. 

Available April 27, 2021

You know it's probably a good thriller when Reese Witherspoon decides to transform it into a limited TV series starring Julia Roberts. When main character Hannah's husband disappears and leaves a note telling her to protect his daughter, she finds out her husband wasn't exactly who he was cracked up to be. Together, the mother and stepdaughter start to discover the truth about the man they thought they knew. 

Available May 4, 2021

The exquisite author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's latest work, Notes on Grief, is a book we can all relate to in our ways during the COVID-19 pandemic. Here, Adichie details the loss of her father last summer. 

Available May 11, 2021

The summer wouldn't be complete without an aptly-titled novel from New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Weiner that explores themes of friendship and power. 

Available May 11, 2021

Billie Eilish fans, rejoice: The 19-year-old singer/songwriter is publishing a visual introspection into her life with never-before-seen photos.

Available May 11, 2021

As Seth Rogen perfectly put it, "I wrote a book called Yearbook. It’s true stories and essays and stuff that I hope you think are funny. It comes out in May, but if you like you can order it now. Yay!"

Available May 11, 2021

If you enjoyed Emily Henry's Beach Read, you'll appreciate People We Meet on Vacation—a novel about two best friends, Alex and Poppy, whose annual vacation ritual is halted after they've stopped speaking. And yet, somehow they convince each other to go on one final seven-day vacation together in an attempt to make it right. 

Available May 11, 2021

There seems to be nothing Fair Fight founder Stacey Abrams can't do, and that includes writing a compelling thriller. Ever so timely, While Justice Sleeps centers on Avery Keene, a young clerk for the fictional Justice Howard Wynn, who becomes his legal guardian and power of attorney when he slips into a coma. When Avery discovers the justice has been secretly researching a controversial case, she's propelled on a quest for the truth while Washington attempts to replace the justice. 

Available May 11, 2021

In State of Emergency: How We Win in the Country We Built, activist and social justice leader Tamika D. Mallory gives readers the tools they need to fight injustice and find a pathway towards true freedom. This is the first book from Charlamagne Tha God’s new imprint, Black Privilege Publishing.

Available May 11, 2021

The Paper Girl in Paris' Jordyn Taylor returns with Don't Breathe a Word—a boarding school mystery that alternates between the past and the present to discover the secrets that lie within Hardwick Preparatory Academy. 

Available May 18, 2021

When once-famous actor Patrick, otherwise known as Gay Uncle Patrick (GUP), becomes the primary guardian of his young niece and nephew after tragedy strikes, he finds himself in the role of a lifetime. 

Available May 25, 2021

Nicola Yoon, New York Times bestselling author of Everything, Everything and The Sun Is Also a Star, returns with another charming love story. This time around, main character Evie has a vision of a couple's romance—knowing exactly how it begins and ends—and must determine whether her own budding romance is worth the risk of heartbreak. 

Available June 1, 2021

Kristen Arnett's With Teeth paints an equally humorous and moving portrayal of a mother's fear of her hostile son while desperately trying to keep her family together as she grows increasingly resentful of her wife. 

Available June 1, 2021

The New York Times bestselling author of Red, White & Royal Blue returns with the queer New York City love story we didn't know we needed. In One Last Stop, cynical 23-year-old August meets a gorgeous girl on the subway and it may actually be too good to be true after all—she soon discovers this woman is actually displaced in time from the '70s, and she must figure out how to help her. 

Available June 1, 2021

The Other Black Girl is the NYC publishing story Black women have been waiting for. The novel centers on 26-year-old editorial assistant Nella Rogers who's fed up with the microaggressions she experiences as the only Black girl in the office, finding solace when the new girl Hazel arrives. That is, until Nella starts receiving threatening notes to leave her job, and soon realizes there's something much deeper going on here.

Available June 1, 2021

Ashley C. Ford invites us into her world growing up a poor Black girl in search of answers—namely why her father, who she often turns to for hope, is in prison—taking readers on an emotional journey that leads her to discover the truth about his incarceration, and herself, along the way.

Available June 1, 2021

Daisy Jones and The Six fans will be thrilled to learn Taylor Jenkins Reid has a new novel—Malibu Rising—coming out about four famous siblings in the '80s who throw an end-of-summer party.

Available June 1, 2021

Tia Williams's sultry romance novel, Seven Days in June, is about two former lovers who reconnect at a New York literary event. There, they can't deny their chemistry or the fact that they haven't forgotten about each other in the decades since they were last together. Now, during seven days in June, they must decide what their future has in store.  

Available June 1, 2021

Natsuko Imamura's The Woman in the Purple Skirt, a bestseller in Japan, is being shared with an American audience this summer. The novel centers on, as you may have guessed, the Woman in the Purple Skirt, who is being watched by the Woman in the Yellow Cardigan. Why does everyone pay attention to the Woman in the Purple Skirt and not the Woman in the Yellow Cardigan? You'll just have to find out. 

Available June 8, 2021

In Dear Senthuran, critically-acclaimed author Akwaeke Emezi turns the focus on their own life. Through a series of letters written to friends and family, they reflect on decisions about their gender and body, how they've managed to navigate certain relationships, and much more.

"As someone who’s been carefully curating their public image for years, it feels almost dangerous to write so honestly, but the final result is a text that I love, one that deeply engages with the metaphysics of Black spirit & singularly faces the Black reader," says Emezi.

Available June 8, 2021

At its core, Lisa Taddeo's debut novel, Animal, is about female rage and desire. If this book is anything like Taddeo's Three Women, expect masterful storytelling. 

Available June 8, 2021

Dhonielle Clayton, Tiffany D. Jackson, Nic Stone, Angie Thomas, Ashley Woodfolk, and Nicola Yoon?! When six incredible Black storytellers come together to create a series of interconnected love stories, you know you're about to read something special.

Available June 22, 2021

Hailed as one of 2020's breakout literary stars, scientist-turned-novelist Brandon Taylor is back with Filthy Animals—a collection of connected short stories set in the midwest. 

Available June 22, 2021

When sisters Tanya and Nessa Bloom travel to the Boston suburbs to help their mom pack up their childhood home, they reckon with their past while discovering a disturbing truth: their mother is in an abusive relationship. Now, they must figure out what comes next for all of them. 

Available June 29, 2021

Talk about a sign of the times. Kristen Radtke's Seek You: A Journey Through American Loneliness quite literally helps readers feel less alone as she explores our feelings of longing and why we're so afraid to talk about them. 

Available July 13, 2021

Following the release of last year's Keep Moving, Maggie Smith will publish another set of poems that center on parenthood, solitude, love, and memory. Smith says Goldenrod has been five years (!) in the making. 

Available July 27, 2021

Jessica Goodman, bestselling author of They Wish They Were Us (the book is being adapted into a TV series starring Halsey!), returns with They'll Never Catch Us—a murder-mystery that centers on a new cross-country star in town who goes missing and the two sisters, also elite runners, who are prime suspects in her disappearance.  

Available July 27, 2021

Andrea Bartz's mystery, We Were Never Here, is about two best friends who are enjoying their annual reunion trip until one of them walks into their hotel room to find the other killed a backpacker in self-defense. A similar incident happened the year prior...was it just a coincidence or something more? 

Available August 3, 2021

The eagerly-anticipated third novel in the Kiss Quotient series, Helen Hoang's The Heart Principle proves how wrong you can be about someone—and how they may just be the right person for you. 

Available August 31, 2021

New York Times bestselling author of The Girl on the Train Paula Hawkins's new novel—A Slow Fire Burning—is about a young man who's found murdered in a houseboat and the three women who are suspects in the case.

Available August 31, 2021

Yes, you read that correctly. Sally Rooney, author of Conversations with Friends and Normal People, returns with Beautiful World, Where Are You—a novel about friendship and sex. 

Available September 7, 2021

Michaela Coel's Misfits shares her journey of belonging and how we can all transform our lives by embracing who we are. If you felt the I May Destroy You creator's Emmys speech in your soul, you'll definitely enjoy this book. 

Available September 7, 2021

Lisa Jewell's The Night She Disappeared, Marie Claire's October book club pick, is a thriller that begins with the disappearance of 19-year-old mother Tallulah who doesn't return home after a night out. 

Available September 7, 2021

If you love historical fiction, you'll appreciate Lauren Groff's upcoming novel, Matrix, which centers on 17-year-old Marie de France who's sent to England to become the head of a poverty-stricken abbey. 

Available September 7, 2021

Gabrielle Union's You Got Anything Stronger? is the followup to her first book, We're Going to Need More Wine. Here, Union discusses everything from her experience with surrogacy to racism in Hollywood. Within her stories, she proves it's okay to change our minds as we grow and evolve. 

Available September 14, 2021

Tarana Burke, founder of the Me Too movement, has released her highly-anticipated memoir that highlights the strength and perseverance that led her to where she is today. As she tweeted, "It’s been a long time coming."

Available September 14, 2021

If you follow Phoebe Robinson on Instagram or listened to 2 Dope Queens or read any of her previous books, you know that you can expect hilarious life lessons and stories from her upcoming essay collection, Please Don't Sit on My Bed in Your Outside Clothes. The title alone is *chef's kiss.*

Available September 28, 2021

Anita Hill, who made history when she testified in 1991 against then-U.S. Supreme Court nominee Clarence Thomas with claims of sexual harassment, is a prominent lawyer, professor, and advocate. In Believing, she traces the history of gender violence in society and what she's learned in the decades since her testimony. 

Available September 28, 2021

Christine Pride and Jo Piazza teamed up to write their new novel, We Are Not Like Them—a story about two childhood best friends (one who's white and one who's Black) who are forced to navigate race and friendship when the white friend's husband is involved in the shooting of an unarmed Black teenager. Read Pride and Piazza's interview with MC here.

Available October 5, 2021

The collab I didn't know I needed! Former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and bestselling author Louise Penny have teamed up to write a thriller about—wait for it—a secretary of state who joins her rival's administration and must combat a series of terrorist attacks. 

Available October 12, 2021

Nikole Hannah-Jones's The 1619 Project, originally published in The New York Times Magazine in August 2019, is an expansion of the award-winning project that teaches us the dismal truth about America's history of slavery and how it's manifested into the world we live in today. Through Bookshop.org, customers can donate the book directly to local schools, libraries, and book banks. 

Available November 16, 2021

The world is eagerly awaiting National Youth Poet Laureate Amanda Gorman's debut collection of poetry, which includes the breathtaking poem she read at President Biden's inauguration titled, "The Hill We Climb." 

Available December 7, 2021

One morning, when I was only a few years old, I went missing from home. My parents looked high and low for me. Eventually, I was found sitting in a classroom at a nearby nursery school, ready to learn. The same thing happened the next day. My father asked the teacher what could be done, since I was too young to be enrolled in the school but I threw a tantrum if I was taken out of the class. The teacher replied that it was illegal for my father to pay to educate an underage child, but agreed that I could stay for free. So, every morning I attended the school, and I was eventually enrolled, a year earlier than I should have been.

I obviously had a hunger for learning, and I’m very fortunate my parents championed my education, particularly as a girl, and worked hard to ensure they had the money for school fees, even in some lean years. My mother stressed that there was no future for me if I didn’t study and acquire expertise and skills to be able to earn my own income. To her, and to me, financial independence for women, whether they’re married or not, is essential.

My father was equally insistent. His father had done his best to put him and his siblings through school, and he wanted the same for us. Like my mother, he saw how a lack of education limited the prospects for children, especially girls. He wished to empower my two sisters and me to grow up to be strong women who knew their rights and could assert them to attain a better position in society. Like me, he received his degree from MUBS.

My parents’ passion for education has extended not only to their five children, but to three of our cousins, whose school fees they contribute to, and whose education and prospects they care about as much as ours. As for my siblings: my sister Clare is at university studying to be a veterinarian while Joan finished high school in 2019 and earned Government sponsorship for university. Paul Christian has passed into the last two years of secondary school, and Trevor is in his sixth year of primary school.

Educating girls is not a high-tech or new idea, and has been a pillar of global development policies for decades. In fact, you’ll likely have heard many leaders, women and men, testify to how important it is for girls to be in classrooms on an equal basis with boys. Uganda has mostly reached parity between girls and boys in primary school education. That’s an achievement, of course, but many thousands of girls and boys still aren’t in classrooms, and many girls, like my mother in her generation and some others in my extended family now, leave school before they complete their secondary education. That means relatively few Ugandan girls will attend university. When I was a student at MUBS, I saw plenty of young women in my classes. Even though there were many women at the university, there are many more who aren’t.

Of course, I care about boys’ education as well, and with two brothers, I have to. But across sub-Saharan Africa, at least 33 million girls who could be in primary and lower secondary school aren’t (equivalent to elementary and middle school and the first two years of high school). More than 50 million girls in the region are missing out on receiving an upper secondary school education (equivalent to the last two years of high school in the US or the sixth form in the UK). Around the world, more than 130 million girls aren’t in school and should be. If they had the chance, how many of these young women could be teachers, lawyers, doctors, NGO staffers, members of parliament, or climate scientists?

I think of it like this: girls and women are more than half the world’s population. If we are to successfully address the climate crisis, we need women in the rooms where decisions are being made that affect the climate (and almost all decisions now do). Educating girls brings them into those rooms, and expands the number and approaches of possible decision-makers and solutions.

At the moment, neither the access nor the positive outcomes that would result are happening fast enough. This reality is partly a result of girls’ disempowerment. I’m certain there are tens of millions of girls—and there are countless across Africa—who’d love to study through high school and even university. But many others are doubtful about their prospects and their own capabilities: My mom didn’t make it even this far in school, they tell themselves, so what makes me think I can make it to that level, or even further? You’re a rural girl, the voice whispers, you probably won’t go anywhere in life, even with some education. Why keep going?

If you don’t marry, have a child, and settle for a life of motherhood on a farm, scrabbling for food and fuel for your family, what options await you? You could move from your village to Kampala and work as a maid in the home of a wealthier family.

Perhaps that’s the life of the young woman who’s walking by as we’re holding our placards at a strike. What are they doing? she might ask herself, with a mixture of curiosity and puzzlement. But there’s no time to think more; she’s likely in a hurry, seeking the fastest ways of securing the household items her employer has requested. So, she gets into a matatu (public mini-bus) and heads back to prepare dinner, or wash the floors, or clean the family’s clothes. Honestly, I can’t see her paying much attention to us at all.

Could someone like her, let alone a young woman in a village, become a climate activist? How would she have the time? Practically, she’d probably only have a flip phone, not the smart-phone so many of us now carry. That would make accessing the Internet difficult and expensive, so she’d be disconnected from what’s happening in the wider world. By the time she’d turned twenty, she’d probably be looking for another job. Her employer, worrying that her husband might now look at the young woman with sexual interest, would dismiss her. This is something that happens all the time. Then she would be struggling to find a new source of income and some stability.

Perhaps it’s not the worst fate, but is it really all we want for those girls? To me, these are “survival” lives. Would these young women have chosen these futures if other paths had been open to them, like finishing secondary school, maybe completing a university degree, then getting a job and attaining financial independence, or even becoming engaged in activism?

It’s a depressing reality that the Covid pandemic has made situations such as I’ve described even worse, and in the same parts of the planet where the climate crisis is a daily emergency. Covid and the consequences of climate change have intensified pressures on household incomes across Africa, Latin America, and Asia. School fees, especially for girls, have become a luxury that has to be cut from the family budget, as it was for Hilda Nakabuye. Millions of girls, as well as many boys, may never return to schools once they’ve fully reopened, and the hard-fought gains in girls’ education made in recent decades may be diluted. We may never know for sure how many children and adolescents have been affected, nor be able to add up all the costs of the pandemic to them, to society, and to the climate.

Excerpted from A BIGGER PICTURE: My Fight to Bring a New African Voice to the Climate Crisis by Vanessa Nakate. Copyright © 2021 by Vanessa Nakate. Reprinted by permission of Mariner Books, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved.

Today marks Latina Equal Pay Day—the day that a Latina in the United States finally catches up to a white man’s earnings from the previous year. It’s the last Equal Pay Day of the year, meaning that Latinas must work the longest for our contributions to be valued the same as everyone else’s. On average, Latinas in the United States earn 57 cents for every dollar that a white, non-Hispanic man makes doing the same job. We quite literally have to work twice as hard in order to be seen, heard, and recognized equally.

I discovered this at an early age growing up in Virginia. I’ve been a waitress, a school administrative assistant, a gas station attendant, and a cybersecurity expert. I’ve worked minimum wage jobs with no health care, and I’ve spent countless late nights calculating all the ways I could make a dollar out of 15 cents. Over the years, I learned to advocate for myself to receive the recognition and pay I knew I deserved, but I also knew that institutional change would be needed to deliver the kind of equality I was fighting for.

My mother impressed upon me the importance of uplifting those around me. She always used to say, “If you’re looking down on someone, it should be because you’re helping them up.” So when the National Organization for Women (NOW) approached me in 2013 to become a member, I knew it was time to expand my political activism from knocking on doors to working hand in hand with women who faced the same economic challenges I did. After about a year, I started my county’s first NOW chapter and went on to serve as the state chapter’s vice president. Together, we organized our community to educate and advocate for women and girls. We brought issues like paid family leave, equal pay for equal work, and access to reproductive health care to the forefront of our Commonwealth’s conversations.

Our nation was well on its way to electing our first-ever woman president, who would bring her lived experiences to the table to fight for equality. But just three years later, everything changed. When Donald Trump was elected in 2016, I was mad as hell. I knew that a Trump administration would only further set women—especially Black and brown women—back. I refused to stand by and let that happen. After mobilizing Virginia women to join the Women’s March on Washington, I came home, grabbed my clipboard and sneakers, and filed to run for office for the very first time.

In 2017, I was elected to the Virginia House of Delegates in a blue wave that brought a record number of women to the chamber. I was proud to make history as the first Afro-Latina to serve in Virginia’s General Assembly. When we all got to Richmond, we wasted no time. I helped lead the effort that made Virginia the critical 38th state to ratify the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) in January 2020. Virginia’s ratification cleared a pathway for the ERA to be added to the Constitution after meeting the three-quarters threshold required by law.

Now, it’s time for our nation to put its money where its mouth is and enshrine equality into our Constitution. It’s as simple as stating, “Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any state on account of sex. The Congress shall have the power to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the provisions of this article.” Ratifying the ERA would clear a pathway for equal pay legislation and guarantee legal protections for women in the workplace across the country. It would also ensure that no individual will ever have to work an extra day—or 294—to earn what their white, male colleagues have earned for the same task. And ultimately, it would signal to ourselves, and the rest of the world, that America truly values the contributions of women.

As Virginia and 37 other states have demonstrated, we have the tools to deliver on our nation’s promise to continue our fight for a more perfect union. It’s time for America to pay women what we’re worth and show every little girl that her work and her contributions are just as valuable as everyone else’s. Let’s make this Latina Equal Pay Day the last by passing the ERA now.

When you hear the word “wellness,” you might think about meditating before you reach for that coffee in the morning (or a matcha latte, if you’re really going for it) or committing to a daily walk. But what we don’t think or talk about nearly enough when it comes to wellness is, IMO, the most important topic of all, especially for women: financial wellness.

This is the part where you might be thinking…Huh? Did she just make that up?

I promise, I didn’t. Prioritizing financial wellness is the best thing you can do for every aspect of your well-being. Without it, the foundation of your broader wellness is not sturdy.

Recently, Ellevest conducted a survey among 2,026 people ages 18–69 in the U.S., and we found that 67 percent of women worry about their financial health at least once a week. And 49 percent of women said that their mental and emotional wellness has suffered because of financial stress.

That’s why we’re declaring October 13 to be the first Financial Wellness Day! Because practicing financial wellness is a solution to the stress that money causes: Simply taking action on your money issues is the key driver of reducing that stress. And that’s exactly what financial wellness is—taking action.

At Ellevest, we define financial wellness as knowing what you have, knowing where you’re headed, and feeling good about it. And just like there are different components of physical wellness (eating well, drinking water, moving your body, etc.), there are different components to practicing financial wellness, too. We define them as:

Your foundation:

Think of the core building blocks that help you achieve or maintain financial security—such as checking your account balances and spending less than the amount you earn (or working toward that goal).

Your plan:

This is the roadmap—the timeline and strategies—to help get you and your money where you want to go in life.

Your mindset:

This is all about having a healthy relationship with not only your money, but also your ability to manage it. Of course, this can start with unlearning all the unhealthy and harmful money lies women are told pretty much from birth.

If this all sounds a little, I don’t know, like I’m trying to sell you on the financial equivalent of a sound bath or something, let me give you some examples of what practicing financial wellness looks like in real life.

Maybe you negotiated your first raise and a title bump. Or paid off your student loans three years early and Wow. That. Felt. Good. Or you decided to cancel that subscription you haven’t used in months and set up automatic deposits into an investment account. All of those things count as practicing financial wellness. It means reveling in the positive experience that your financial choices pave the way for.

The truth is that, lately, many women aren’t doing much reveling when it comes to their financial health. It makes sense that women are experiencing more anxiety around money than ever before. For starters, women earn less than men do—and we tend to stop getting raises a decade earlier. Women also invest less than men do and as a result, women only own an average of 32 cents of every dollar that white men own. For women of color, it’s less than one penny.

And then there’s the pandemic, during which women played social safety net—many juggling work and homeschooling, experiencing setbacks in their careers, or even losing jobs. Plus, 49 percent of women we surveyed are literally losing sleep over their finances. So we know financial stress has serious effects on your mental and physical health.

Many women shy away from investing and taking action on their money because we have these blockers—we think it’s too time consuming, or we think we’re not good at money, or it’s going to take forever to get where we want to go. And unfortunately, there’s no clock on the wall that says: Not getting your credit card paid off by this date will cost you *this much.* There’s often no catalyst for us just to sit down and do the damn thing.

It’s also why we’re bringing financial wellness to you and inviting Marie Claire readers (and your friends) to sign up for a free Ellevest workshop led by a CFP® professional to understand your current spending, reframe your money mindset, define your financial goals, and more.

We also believe everyone deserves financial wellness. And we'd like to help you find it at Ellevest. Here’s one month free and $20 to get started with code DOWELL.

Happy Financial Wellness Day. (You got this.)

Ellevest is giving Marie Claire readers $20 to start investing today. Go forth and invest!

Sallie Krawcheck is the CEO and co-founder of Ellevest, a financial company built by women, for women. She is the former CFO of Citi, and the former CEO of Merrill Lynch and of Smith Barney.

Trigger warning: This article contains references to sexual assault, sexual harassment, and other forms of gender violence.

When Anita Hill testified before the Senate Judiciary Committee on October 11, 1991, accusing then-U.S. Supreme Court nominee Clarence Thomas of sexual harassment, the outcome was anything but favorable. Thomas's ascendance to the highest court in the land, despite the accusations Hill detailed, confirmed how little our society valued women and set a precedent for how our nation would address gender violence moving forward. After the hearings, Hill had to make a choice: retreat back to her "normal life," resigned to the fact that her high-profile testimony made no impact on Thomas's confirmation, or believe that we, as a nation, could do better and work to enact change for future generations.

For the past 30 years, Hill has embraced the latter, reflected in her aptly-titled book, Believing: Our Thirty-Year Journey to End Gender Violence (out today). In the book, the Brandeis University professor and lawyer discusses America's gender-based violence epidemic and what has—and hasn't—changed in the three decades since her testimony. Rather than writing a memoir, Hill combines anecdotes from her own experience of sexual harassment with those from other survivors, and translates them into actionable ways in which our country can address gender violence today. Her decision to avoid centering herself in the book and in her advocacy work is partly due to Hill being a private person by nature, but also because she feels compelled to share the extensive training and research she's done on gender violence with the world.

"[My] experience [with sexual harassment] was just the beginning. What propels me is what I know now about the [systemic] problem," Hill tells Marie Claire. "We should be enlisting survivors more not just to tell about their experiences. There is also much wisdom around the solutions and how we can move forward. I want us to be recognized for all of those things that we can offer."

The significance, and perhaps irony, of releasing this book in 2021 is not lost on Hill. Not only has violence against women surged—the pandemic has exacerbated domestic violence, as well as online harassment—but the man who led the Thomas confirmation hearings is now President of the United States. Then there's the near-total abortion ban in Texas, a statute whose constitutionality will likely be determined by this Supreme Court. Had the Senate Judiciary Committee conducted a fair and open hearing following Hill's accusations in 1991 (Angela Wright, another woman who accused Thomas of sexual misconduct, was subpoenaed by the committee but not called upon to testify), perhaps we wouldn't have witnessed history repeat itself 27 years later during the confirmation hearings of Brett Kavanaugh. Or witness the most restrictive abortion law in the country go into effect three years after that (Thomas and Kavanaugh were two of five justices who voted not to block the Texas law from going into effect).

Nevertheless, Hill describes the past year-and-a-half as "a moment of accountability." A time when America might finally be ready to acknowledge that gender-based violence has consequences—not just for women, but for society as a whole. Here, Hill speaks to Marie Claire about prioritizing anti-gender violence policies, her thoughts on the #MeToo movement, and the message she has for fellow survivors.

Marie Claire: In the book, you briefly mention your first face-to-face meeting with Dr. Christine Blasey Ford just over a year after her testimony, and her wish that the Senate will create a new system to handle sexual misconduct complaints. How did the results of Dr. Ford's testimony influence your own hope about ending gender violence?

Anita Hill: I'm hopeful for a number of things. One of the things that I'm hopeful about is the change in the American public over the last 30 years. When I testified, so many people said that they weren't even aware of the problem of sexual harassment. We've gotten a public that is much more aware, and it's because of many of the activists that have grown up during this period, the amount of attention that is being paid on colleges and university campuses, and a movement inside those campuses. There is a lot to be hopeful for, and the public's reaction to Dr. Ford's testimony—with the majority of the public saying that they did not believe that Kavanaugh should be confirmed—represents that movement.

MC: You spend some time discussing how Black women often feel at odds with their decision to come forward if the accused is also part of the Black community. During the Thomas hearings, how did you grapple with comments about protecting the community at large?

AH: I'm not sure that I personally was able to alone. One of the things that helped me very early on, and I'm eternally grateful for it, is the ad in the New York Times by a group called African-American Women in Defense of Ourselves, which was really a statement about Black women's experiences in this country and our history of abuse. Our history of silencing and denial of our experiences and our pain. It strikes me that when you talk about Black women's experiences, it's a prime example of what I call "grooming" in our culture, where we are led to believe that our pain is not significant. In the book, I write about [former U.S. Senator] Arlen Specter's statement during my testimony that what had happened to me "was not so bad." I think about how often we tell young girls that their problem is not so bad. "You should just ignore it." Eventually when you're told over and over that the problem is insignificant, you internalize that message.

Now add onto that racism, intersectional bias, and discrimination. If you raise a complaint against another person of color, you will be shamed into believing that you are doing something that hurts the community, the race. I hear from young Black women, especially when I'm on college campuses, about the same concern that they cannot come forward if their alleged abuser is another person of color, or specifically another Black person. So everybody is suffering in the community knowing that this problem exists, and we can't have any recourse because of the racist system that we live in. This is a cultural problem and a system problem. It shows in particular how the systems have failed Black women and other women of color.

I mentioned [in the book] the survivors conference that happened this past year that was really a monumental event in terms of where this issue has come over the last 30 years. But one of the things that women of color complained about was that they felt they had no place to go to get all of the problems addressed because the police, in taking their claims, were hostile to them. In many cases, they said they were made to feel as though they had done something wrong. That is just the systematized version of blaming the victim. It has racial implications, it has gender implications, and it's a problem that has to be fixed.

But I also talk about the other side of this in the book, and that is to have young Black men who really do want to be part of this fight against gender-based violence—against sexual assault, sexual harassment, and rape, specifically—but they also know that they can be wrongly accused by law enforcement. All of us are trapped in this system that keeps us less safe because of our race and because of the prevalence of gender violence. That's a complicated problem. So how do we get together? We have to start by giving equal space to have these conversations in a public way where they are not shamed for stepping up, and in a way that says that the community values you and values your voice.

MC: With these racial dynamics, it's even more amazing to me that you chose to continue on this path towards ending gender violence. You could have retreated back to your private life, but you chose the public.

AH: I chose the public not really knowing how deep the problem was. In the book, I talk about sexual harassment, but I also talk about all of the other stories that I hear. Like the man who called me almost immediately after the [Thomas confirmation] hearing and said that it reminded him of his problem trying to convince his family that he was being violated by a member of the family, and the denials that they had for his experience and how he was silenced.

I heard that thread over and over again from survivors. It's been 30 years of hearing victims and survivors talk about their own experiences. So what we're talking about is a problem that is a people problem, it's not just a problem of one type of behavior. There are so many elements that victims of sexual harassment, victims of incest, victims of intimate partner violence, and victims of rape all have in common. That's part of the scope of the problem, but in addition it's an institutional problem. We've got military scandals, we've got government scandals, we've got courts scandals, we have scandals in private industries. Name an institution that has been exempt from this problem. What it then comes down to is not just the individual damage and the institutional damage, but families and communities and, ultimately, our nation suffers.

MC: Speaking of which, you talk a lot about the individual vs. the collective, trying to get readers to understand that violence against women ultimately affects everyone. One of the examples you used was tied to the economy.

AH: Unfortunately, that is how our legal system [works]. In the United States v. Morrison case, it all boiled down to the commerce clause, and that really is quite sad. The idea that Congress is only able to pass protective legislation to end violence against women because of its relationship to commerce? That in and of itself is pretty shocking. But the fact that we had all of this evidence that there is an impact on commerce, and the Court still chose to deny that Congress had the authority to act, that's one of the things that I think has to change.

Some fixes are longterm, but for now we need changes to procedures. We need changes to the procedure that—if you want to call it that—Christine Blasey Ford fell into, that I fell into, that really hasn't changed that much, if at all. But we also need specific policies that are targeted to the harms that we know have been created. We have statistics that say that 38 percent of people who experience intimate partner violence will become homeless. So we have a housing crisis, we have a health crisis, we have an impact on education. We don't know what the impact is, but we know from the experiences of survivors and victims that there is an impact on their children's education and the family's ability to support itself. All of these things deserve immediate and deliberate attention, but we also need better processes and procedures.

MC: I was struck by your mention that small businesses are exempt from sexual harassment lawsuits. Independent contractors aren't protected either. Should our focus be on advocating for protections at the state level?

AH: There are so many ways that we need to think about solutions, but clearly our systems have failed. It's a systemic problem and the systems that we have in place are in part based on this idea that the problem is "not so big" and "not so important," or it's something that will eventually just go away naturally. As a matter of fact, all of our systems need to be revamped, including the fact that there are exempted businesses in terms of who gets to be held accountable for the sexual harassment and extortion and assault that goes on in our workplaces. One of the things that we have to consider is that independent contractors are a growing body in our workforce today.

MC: In the book, you briefly talk about President Biden's phone call to you in 2019. Have you been able to connect with the Biden administration about advancing anti-gender violence policies since then?

AH: I have not connected with them, nor have they with me. But I'm hoping that this will get enough attention that even though we certainly have numerous other issues that we're addressing right now, that people will understand that this is one of critical importance.

MC: Let's talk about the #MeToo movement. Lately, it's been difficult to analyze the impact of the movement when, for example, people like former Governor Andrew Cuomo have both drafted legislation to combat sexual harassment, and also been accused of sexual harassment. What are your thoughts on the movement as a whole, and do you believe it has changed anything on a systemic level thus far?

AH: The law has been changed and Governor Cuomo has resigned, so why was that possible? It was possible because there was advocacy. It was the movement. Why did he resign? He resigned because there was a system in place for an investigation, there was an explanation of the investigation that took place, there were conclusions that were reached, and there was a recommendation for accountability that came from many voices. As difficult as it has been to read the stories about some of the other involvement with Governor Cuomo, I don't want to take away from the law and I don't want to take away from the procedure that ultimately ended with him resigning.

But what I do want is that, with all of these decisions that are made, they be survivor-focused and enlist survivors in how these processes roll out and how they're developed. Those voices have to be there, and that's the lesson I believe of the last [month]. How do we make sure that what we're doing does not compromise survivors in any way? [The procedures and processes] are what we've been demanding. I believe that's what we need more of in the future, but we need it to come from leaders.

That will only happen if we, as a society, push for it. If the 70 percent of the people who acknowledged Christine Blasey Ford's brave testimony [and] who said, "This is not right. This is wrong. We need to do something. There should be a different outcome" get on board and begin to push for that, I believe it will happen. That's why I call the book Believing because I believe in all of the advocacy and the growth that we have done as a society. If we roll all of that together, I believe we can change.

MC: The near-total abortion ban in Texas is on a lot of people's minds. It feels like the epitome of everything you've described in this book.

AH: There is a direct relationship between [the ban and] violence, and that is the violence that is occurring outside of clinics that offer abortion to women who are seeking the services. That is a form of gender violence. In many cases, the services may be birth control or breast cancer examinations, so that is a very real and direct harm. The policing of women's bodies, especially turning the public into vigilantes, is shocking. It's the singling out of women for entirely different treatment because of their gender.

MC: What message do you want to share with fellow survivors today?

AH: I want them to read the book and understand that part of my believing is believing that we deserve better. We deserve solutions. We deserve recognition of the harm that is being caused to us, as well as to people around us. I want them to believe that [solutions] are possible and that they're going to take a lot of work. They're not going to be instant, there's no one magic pill that will cure everything. You've got to consider a whole bunch of things, including racism and sexism and class bias and homophobia because we come with all different identities as whole people. I want them to see themselves in this work, but I also want them to be hopeful that things can change for their children, even if not for them.

Interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

If you or someone you know has been sexually assaulted, RAINN—the nation's largest anti-sexual violence organization—is available 24/7 for confidential support. Call 800-656-4673 or use the org's online chat tool to talk with a trained staff member.

I see that tears are streaming down her face. I open the door and slide into the front seat. The last time I saw Jen cry was in first grade when Lou shaved her head during a lice outbreak because it was cheaper than buying the expensive shampoo. I rush over to the passenger side and let myself in. Did something happen with Chase?

“I can’t take it, Riley. I can’t take it anymore!” She launches in as if she expected me all along. “It’s just too much. I’m so fucking tired of all these people treating my husband like a villain and a scapegoat.”

These people?

“Kevin’s not a racist, or a bad apple, or a ‘symptom of the systemic ills plaguing the police forces across America.’ ” She jabs her finger at the radio. She was clearly listening to the same morning shows I was. “This is such bullshit. And now in a few hours that stupid DA is going to stand in front of a zillion TV cameras and announce she wants Kevin’s head on a platter. Can you believe that, Riley? And on top of everything, I feel like you’ve abandoned me and that’s making all of this even worse.” Her tears escalate to full-blown sobs. “I don’t care, I had to say that. I’m mad, Riley. Really mad.”

I haven’t gotten a word in edgewise, but I stare out the window at the swirling red lights of an idling ambulance and try to figure out how to respond to this tirade.

“Well, Jen, to say I haven’t been there for you that’s not really fair. I told you, I’ve been trying to cover the story and I’ve been busy—”

“Yeah, yeah, Riley, you’re always busy. I mean, when are you not busy? So whatever.”

Her tone is bruising and annoying, frankly. Maybe Jen can’t relate to eighty-hour work weeks as a receptionist, but she shouldn’t judge me. I don’t have a chance to defend myself, as she’s already moved on. She turns to face me, shoulders squared, confrontation in her eyes.

“Tell me this, Riley. Do you think Kevin should go to jail? I just need to know.”

So we’re doing this?

“I don’t know, Jen, that’s not really for me to decide.”

“I know that, Riley. I’m just asking what you think. If you think Kevin’s some sort of racist monster, like everyone else seems to. Is that why you’re angry at him? At us? Because that’s not fair.”

“Not fair? First of all, you can’t say my feelings, whatever they are, aren’t fair. Also, if you want to talk about unfair, let’s talk about how unarmed Black men are being shot over and over and over. It’s endless, Jen. Endless! Do you think that’s fair? And most of these killers never face any legal consequences. I have pages of stats for you on that if you’re interested. So yeah, maybe it sucks that Kevin is being put out there as an example when so many police officers have gotten off for doing the exact same thing. But the world isn’t fair, Jenny.”

She’s biting down hard on her bottom lip so at first her words are a little slurry. “But I just don’t think you understand how hard this has all been. I kept trying to explain on email. I’m all alone and people are making all these judgments and they’re treating Kevin like he’s some sort of ‘issue’ to be dealt with. Like we have to be punished on behalf of all white people or something. Which is ridiculous, when Kevin risks his life every day to make sure people—Black people too!—are safe. All the attacks, they’re so personal. This is destroying me and I don’t deserve it. I just don’t.”

A flash of fury jolts my entire body. This was classic Jenny, always self-absorbed, always the victim. Maybe I’ve indulged these tendencies too much. Part of our friendship, of any relationship really, is the tacit agreement to allow a generous latitude for flaws and grievances. A trade-off that goes both ways, glass houses and whatnot—and besides, if you start holding your friends accountable for all their flaws, if you let the annoyances add up on a mental spreadsheet, the whole thing could come toppling down. I think back to our time at the bar the night of the shooting, how comfortable it was, both of us settled in our ways, how much I appreciated it then that one could truly know, and accept, someone the way she and I know and accept each other. It’s a paradox, loving someone precisely because you know them so well, inside and out, and at the same time nursing a tiny fantasy that they can be different in the specific ways you want them to be. Maybe it isn’t fair to expect Jen to change after all these years. But it’s eating at me, her inclination to be aggrieved, to always be so quick to think life has been unfair, that it should be easier for her.

“Are you kidding me, Jen? Destroying you? First of all, this isn’t about you. And second, talk about hitting close to home? Or it being personal? Every time a Black person dies an unwarranted or unnecessary death, it’s personal to me, Jen! It cuts close to home. All of it does. All the times I’ve been followed, questioned, second-guessed, judged, scrutinized, deemed inferior. All the vile comments I have to deal with—for the last ten years of my career, for a lifetime, not just for a few weeks. Everything that happened with Shaun! I mean, just weeks ago I learned that someone in my family was lynched, Jen. Strung up from a tree and riddled with bullets! So don’t talk to me about fair or how life is hard for you, okay? I’m not diminishing what you’re going through, and I want to be there for you, I do, but you’ve got to realize that you’re not the only one struggling.”

We both sit in a sort of stunned silence at all I’ve unleashed.

“I’m sorry, Rye. Okay. I’m sorry I haven’t been a better ally. That’s all they’ve been talking about this morning—ally this and ally that.” Her condescending tone irks the hell out of me.

“But there you go again, Jen. Yes, you could actually be a better ally! They’re using that word because it means something. That’s exactly what I’m talking about. And that starts with looking at your behavior and your biases. It’s like when you slammed the door in that reporter’s face and screamed that your best friend is Black and that’s why you can’t possibly be racist. Come on! And I debated calling you out on it, but I didn’t, and maybe I should have just said something right away instead of letting it fester.”

Jen looks confused. “But you are my best friend and you are Black. So what?”

“It felt like you were using me as a shield. And by the way, you don’t get points for having one Black friend. I mean, you’re not hiding any others anywhere, are you?” My sarcasm is a low blow, but Jen isn’t the only one who’s “really mad” now.

“Jesus, Riley. Ouch.”

“I’m sorry, Jen, but it’s the truth. It’s weird to me that all of your friends these days are white.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? Go out and introduce myself to every Black woman I see on the street and say, ‘Heya, want to come over and watch The Bachelorette with me?’ ”

I can see Jenny’s knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. She looks like she’s trying to focus on her breathing, to calm herself down. She glances at the clock. I know she probably has to get up to Chase and maybe this is enough for now. I’m at the end of my rope.

“Maybe I should just shut up, then. I’m never going to say the right thing.”

“That’s not what I want either. The last thing I want is for you to be silent and pretend none of this is happening.”

“Well, it’s not me that doesn’t want to talk about things, Riley. You’re the one that’s always so closed off. You’ve never said anything like this to me before, and yeah, it totally sucks to hear it, but it sucks even more that we’ve been friends for almost thirty years and suddenly you’re unleashing on me like I’m your enemy. Like you’ve been thinking all this shit and keeping it inside forever.”

She’s not wrong. “Look, Jen, I’m sorry if you feel this is coming out of nowhere. But put yourself in my shoes. I didn’t want to be the Black girl always talking about race. That’s no fun. And I don’t know what your reaction would be if I told you about all the shit I have to deal with because I’m a Black woman. What if you didn’t have the right reaction? ”

“What’s the right reaction?” She seems genuinely curious and confused, like she truly has no idea.

“Like showing me you get it, Jen. Or at least that you’re trying to.” I want to reach over and grab her by her ratty sweatshirt and shake her.

“Well, maybe you need to give me the benefit of the doubt. You never give anyone the benefit of the doubt. Maybe I haven’t been all politically correct and perfect, but maybe I’m scared too. Maybe I’m scared of saying the wrong thing or something stupid and everyone pouncing on me and calling me a racist because I use the wrong words. Even you.”

I feel a pressure to explain myself, but I also have to get to work and Jen needs to get to Chase; we don’t have enough time. I wonder if we’ll ever have enough time. “I don’t know, Jen—do you really get it? Do you get that my life and experiences as a Black woman have been completely different than yours as a white woman? Do you understand why people are destroyed right now, Jen, destroyed by Justin’s death? And not just the Dwyers. It’s what it signifies—all the ways that Black people, people who look like me, aren’t safe. Everything you’re saying about the shooting makes me question whether you understand any of this. And maybe it’s not fair, but it just brought up a lot of stuff that we never talk about or acknowledge. Like I talk to Gaby about race all the time and I never do with you. And we’re supposed to be best friends—that’s a problem.”

“I never said I didn’t want to talk about race with you. I just don’t even think of it most of the time; I don’t even think about you being Black.”

“That’s exactly my point, Jen!” I yell so loud a woman walking by looks over her shoulder. I watch her for a minute and try to summon some perspective and calm. “I need you to think about it, especially with what’s going on. You’re so blindly focused on Kevin, which I get, that you’re not seeing the larger implications or issues. It’s a privilege to never think about race. I don’t have that privilege. I love you, Jenny, but I just need you to, I don’t know, wake up a little more.”

What I really need is an out. I need out, period. I’m exhausted and I’m going to be so late to work.

“Look, the reason I stopped by was to bring this for you, and let you know I was thinking of you.” I thrust the bag at her.

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, but tosses the bag in the back seat without looking inside.

“How’s Chase?”

“He’s okay. I’ve gotta get upstairs. The pulmonary team is coming at nine to test his breathing and then more doctors will be there to try to take out his feeding tubes, and then a CAT scan. It’s a busy morning. It’s a terrible day. But I don’t know if I’m allowed to say that.”

“Of course you can say that, Jenny.”

Neither of us moves though; neither of us knows how this conversation ends. Or even if it is an end. Maybe, just maybe, as hard as it is, it’s a beginning. Who knows.

Marie Claire: Could you tell me—because it's a book about friendship and you two are friends and chose to write it together—a little bit about your friendship: How you met, and how you would describe your relationship now.

Jo Piazza: Christine was my editor on Charlotte Walsh Likes to Win, but we very quickly became friends. I turned in that book the day when I went into labor. Then we edited it with me breastfeeding Charlie, and Christine typing in the changes for me because I had no hands. We became close, and we started talking about— Well, also we worked really well together on another project, the Marriage Vacation book for Younger.

It was so much more of a collaboration than an editor situation, because it was so fast. I would dash it off, and Christine would be like, "Let me fix it. I got this." We were on text constantly, and we really enjoyed working together. And that's a rare thing to enjoy writing together, because writing is such a lonely process. We just started having this conversation: Christine had had this idea for a while. I'll let you jump in with that.

Christine Pride: After we finished Marriage Vacation, that was in 2018. It was around the time— Stephon Clark had just been murdered, and there was a lot going on in the news at that time. We started talking about this particular book and this particular idea. And I don't want to say [it was] a lark, because that trivializes it, but we really started it as kind of an experiment in this idea that we could write together. And the idea itself [of best friends, one white, one Black, dealing with the police shooting of an unarmed Black man] lent to it being a book that we should write together. It would be a different book if either of us wrote it separately, but the benefit of it would be that we could take on these two different perspectives.

JP: One of the things we talked about early on is—as our friendship deepened and we started talking about race a lot more—we had never really seen an interracial friendship done very well in commercial women's fiction. We just kept developing that idea. Christine came on our book tour for Charlotte Walsh Likes to Win; she did a road trip with me through the South going to bookstores. That obviously raised new and even more interesting questions about race. So we had that experience together, and the book just started coming together. Then it was interesting; when we went out to market with it, I remember someone was like, "Well, there's been a lull between police shootings. Maybe it won't still be an issue." And we're like, "Hopefully not," but then we know what ended up happening.

MC: Having had a writer/editor relationship, how did it shift to be writer/writer, and how did you deal with tensions of who's going to write which parts?

JP: So much trial and error.

CP: It was harder than we thought it was going to be.

JP: I will say, we were both all-in on the whole book. Neither of us took scenes. Neither of us took characters, which we think a lot of people are just like, "Oh psh, obviously ..."

CP: "You're the Black one, you're the white one."

JP: But, no. We really both wrote both characters and the whole book. In the beginning, because Christine is such a talented editor, I was more comfortable with the blank page. I was a tabloid newspaper writer, so I can sit down and just bang it out. Then Christine would edit it, and sometimes she would rip the whole thing up and completely rewrite it.

That was hard in the beginning, because I remember feeling like she was just kicking my baby out of the house. It was really emotional, and I didn't entirely have the language to express how emotional it was. I would just get frustrated and mad. We had to find some really strong communication in the beginning, it was almost like marriage counseling.

CP: Definitely.

JP: We hit walls and we were both frustrated and didn't know what to do and how to get past it, but we did get past it. I think that our friendship and relationship is so much stronger. We just started working on our second book.

MC: Making the conscious decision to not have Christine write the Black character and Jo write the white character—were there tensions there? Were there points where you said, "That isn't the lived experience that I've had, what you're suggesting"?

CP: Definitely. I think it was a lot harder for me, which I wouldn't have known until [I] started writing a book, because [as a Black person] you think about race all of the time and you talk about race all the time. Then translating that to the page, [I thought], It’s in your brain and your experience, and capturing that on the page will be seamless. And it's really hard to do it in a way that's not— I mean, I was trying not to [describe] experiences about being a Black person; [and instead] to just have Riley obviously embody the experience that she's living.

I feel like there was a little bit of a limitation, because it's not Jo's lived experience, and so there's a lot of editing back and forth, like, "Oh, I know what you mean, let's say it like this." We did have to talk a lot about giving these characters conflict—obviously characters need conflict and there was serious conflict here—but that their friendship would be credible enough. As a Black person, I was really sensitive to the fact that you wouldn't necessarily have a close friendship if race was something that you never talked about.

It was toeing a line between giving them enough conflict, but making it credible enough that these things hadn't come up in their relationship before. I think that that was drawing from so many of my interracial friendships, that was an opportunity but also a little bit of a challenge.

JP: I approach all of my fiction as such a reporter. It's just how I know how to world-build. And so when I was writing Charlotte [from Charlotte Walsh Likes to Win], I interviewed more than 100 women who'd run for office and who'd run campaigns, and so that's my go-to, that's my muscle. As I was trying to build Riley's world and her family, there were times when probably I was acting like a reporter to Christine, and so maybe even interrogating the experience as a Black woman.

I didn't feel when I first started doing it that that could be exhausting—"Tell me more about this microaggression, like tell me more about this"—because it was such a go-to, because it's what I would do with any character. But it's different when you're interrogating the lived experience of [a person and their] race. It's something that I had to become much more sensitive to and aware of, because it had to be exhausting.

MC: The specific excerpt that we're running is the climax of the book. One thing that was interesting to me is that, up until this climax, the reader is getting each woman's perspective on the events through their thoughts. And then Jen and Riley finally have to say their thoughts out loud.

CP: We wanted to draw out their parallel thoughts and narratives as much as possible, to build to that. We were being especially intentional about it for Riley's story, where she doesn't want to have these conversations—they're not a thing that she wants to do anyway, personality-wise. But she's also busy and there are 1,000 things going on, and she doesn't know how she feels. That gave it a credible way for this confrontation to be so delayed. And we wanted it to feel like by the time that they have it, the reader is like, "Oh my God, what are they going to say to each other?" specifically, I think, "What is Riley going to say to Jen?" because she's the one who’s more bottled up.

Then I think the tension is, "How is Jen going to react to Riley's tension all throughout?" I think the tension for a lot of Black people is, If I say how I really feel, what am I going to be met with? Guilt? Derision? Gaslighting? You don't know, and so it's almost easier not to broach it. When she had to do it, we wanted to see how much their thoughts would align with what they'd been [thinking before] and how much they would change by virtue of this conversation with each other.

JP: Yeah, how much they would actually be able to get out. One of the things that we really wanted to do with this book was— people can present as one way, and then what do they say behind closed doors? What are they saying, the "very woke" white person in the workplace? Then what are they saying to their white family and friends at Thanksgiving dinner? We wanted to show that, and we tried to show that with Jen's in-laws.

Christine said it so well: As a Black person, you're so scared, If I come out and I'm honest, what will you say to me? How will you judge me? How will this change everything? One of the things we wanted to get across, then, from Jen's point of view is this terror—especially in the wake of George Floyd—of saying the wrong thing or something stupid, of misspeaking and not being able to dial it back. Just not knowing how to articulate what is in their head in a way that is not offensive, because it can be such a tricky line.

We wanted to get that fear, and that fear just felt so raw in the face of a relationship where everything else had been fair game.

CP: And easier.

JP: And easier. Like, you know about my mother's terrible boyfriend, you know about the weird sounds my husband makes when we have sex, but just this thing is what is so hard between us. The confrontation scene is so important.

This moment is what I think readers will talk about and be able to [ask themselves], "But how would I have said that?" To have the characters as proxies for their interracial friend they probably don't have, because we know that 75 percent of white people don't have a friend of another race.

You can talk about the hard things through these characters, and not have to talk about them through yourself, which is very, very difficult for most people.

MC: With cancel culture nowadays—and this is a friendship so there's a little bit of a difference there—there's such a fear of saying the wrong thing, that people don't say anything at all. Do you feel like there's advice for readers in this scene on how to approach these conversations, whether it's just being comfortable in the uncomfortableness of possibly saying the wrong thing?

JP: We used to really get into it in the beginning as we were figuring out how to talk through these things. We've had some heated conversations about cancel culture, because I think it means different things to us. As a white woman writing this book, yes, I live in fucking terror of being canceled. I'm like, Will people assume that every terrible racist thing that our white characters say comes out of my head? How can a person even create those things if they don't have these feelings?

Or when I'm explaining the book, I'm like, Am I using the right words and saying the right thing? Maybe I'm not, I don't know. What I want to come out of this book is for us to be able to have the spaces to have conversations where you're not perfect, where you're a little bit uncomfortable, but it's okay, and that there's grace. Christine has very different thoughts on cancel culture, because you're like, "I'm not worried about getting canceled."

CP: Well, I think my [issue] with cancel culture [at least in the context of our book and race] is that when you say, "People are worried, people are worried, people are worried," that assumes white people. It centers the white experience in cancel culture. It's like, "All people are so afraid of cancel culture, and what can we do about it?" but that's not true.

JP: It was very important to us to not make anyone clearly—

CP: Right or wrong, good or bad. Racist, not racist.

JP: And to get across [that] everyone's a little bit racist in a different way, and so we did not want to have a fully demonized police officer. It was very important that we did not do that. We had someone early on read it and say, "Well, I don't care if all police officers hate this book, or if you piss off all the white people, you should be," and I'm like, "That's not where we're coming from."

CP: Right, definitely not.

JP: We want to present everyone in this book as a very complicated human being dealing with difficult shit. I think it was harder to humanize Kevin—I mean he's someone that murdered a child. But we did want to talk about the complicated factors that went into that murder and the complications of being a police officer, and dig into that. For the research for this book, we interviewed cops.

CP: We talked to a lot of cops, cops' wives.

JP: We discovered the entire subculture of LEO wives on Instagram, which it really—

CP: A world unto itself, I admit.

JP: It is a world onto itself. And we interviewed a lot of these LEO wives, because you're trying to think about: Jen as a wife, especially as a pregnant, new mother and new wife—where are your loyalties? And how can you reconcile that your husband is a murderer, but also he's the father of your child? How do you get through that? We had to give everyone nuance and gray areas, and that's what I don't think we see enough of, especially in commercial fiction. It's like, "You're good, you're bad, you're a villain."

MC: Audiences like to put people in neat boxes and know who they're supposed to root for. I don't think I was rooting for a particular character, but I was rooting for Jen and Riley's friendship.

The reader comes in right at the seismic shift in their friendship. It's not like the book starts when they're little girls. But as a reader you get the sense: "Oh, these two people are like sisters, practically, they're so close." It's not false to the reader to feel like, "I want this friendship to survive," and so you do empathize and sympathize with both of them.

CP: I think that actually goes back to [your question of] advice or what our themes are in terms of having hard conversations. If there's one thing that we hope is a takeaway, it's that you have to go there, it's kind of unavoidable. They had to, as much as they were both avoiding this [confrontation] for whatever reason, they had to go there and they had to have this conversation. I think that that's the lesson—if there is an overt lesson to be drawn from the book—these conversations have to happen, and they're going to be uncomfortable and everybody is going to be worried about reactions on both and all sides.

I think Black people are at such an advantage in this way in terms of, we talk, think— I mean, I think Baldwin said, "To be black in America is to have a Ph.D. in white people." We think and talk about race all of the time, so there's a certain kind of fluidity there and a certain lived experience, education, all these things. It's top of mind, and so you're coming into conversations potentially in an unbalanced way.

We just have to be able to talk about these things. And on the part of Black people, that involves bracing yourself for people to say something completely fucked up or to start crying. That is a very real thing.

JP: I did cry once. Because you said, "If we can't have these conversations of race, we're not real friends."

CP: Which is true.

JP: I was like, "Well, then everything I thought about our friendship is over." And that was our big point that we got through.

CP: That is the lesson. You can't have a friendship—

JP: But we hadn't had to have those conversations.

CP: Unless you talk about race, which is just like Riley and Jen.

I think that was part of our strategy or the intention of having them be such long term friends. Their friendship would've been different if they met at college or after college. But when you meet as kids, you just take for granted that you're not that different. And you grew up together so you feel like, We did everything together from first grade on, so how could you have such a different experience from me? They had to then realize that, as adults, they do have different experiences. That, I think, comes as a surprise to Jen.

MC: I think she sees herself as not a privileged person, because she was poor, the child of a single teenage mother, so she doesn't view herself as having any privilege, without realizing the inherent privilege that she had from birth, regardless of her socioeconomic circumstances.

CP: To her, Riley is the lucky one.

MC: The book is alternating chapters of Jen and Riley's perspectives, and the confrontation is in a chapter that's told from Riley's perspective. Why did you make that choice, and how might it have shifted if it had been in Jen's perspective?

CP: It was a puzzle almost. The structure is so fixed that you have to figure out when these things were going to happen within the timespan of the book. Some things had to happen in Jen's chapter or Riley's chapter just based on timing, but I think it was fortunate that it worked and intentional that it was from Riley's point of view, because she was the one who needed to say the things. Since she had everything bottled up and she was the one who we were like, "Is she ever going to be honest with Jen?" I think it was important to see it from her point of view, because I'm hoping that readers are rooting for her to say something, like, "Just tell her how you feel."

JP: Get it out there already. I don't think that that's rare. I think it does speak to the stories we choose to present to the world.

CP: And it's in keeping with Riley's character. Part of her being able to be a successful person in the world is compartmentalizing a lot of things, and once you compartmentalize one thing, you start to compartmentalize everything. Part of her journey as a character is seeing her make this decision to actually be— Like even in that moment when she was like, "I'm not prepared for this," her reflex is to skulk back to her car and drive to work, her happy place, but she moves forward. I hope that readers would be rooting for her in a different way than if we saw Jen bridge this conversation, which I don't think she wants to have either, but it would've been a very different dynamic if Jen had said, "We need to talk about these things."

CP: She's more confused, genuinely confused, like, "What is going on in our friendship?" which is a fair question for her to ask.

JP: Well, and Jen, her character, she sees herself as a victim and she paints herself as a victim so often, and so that chapter couldn't have been from her point of view, because we had to give Riley the agency in that chapter. Because Jen, even in subsequent chapters, even though she understands there had to be the confrontation, still feels put upon, and that's part of who she is.

I think a lot of white readers will see themselves in that; that they're like, "But this isn't all about race, why do we have to make it a thing?"

MC: Right, she just wants it to be about my husband, the trial.

JP: This is my life. This is what's happening right now.

CP: "You never liked Kevin."

JP: "You never liked Kevin. It's not about race." I think that is something—even though it might be hard for readers to take in—it is one of those things a lot of white people don't say out loud. They're like, "Why is everyone making this about race?" I have heard that behind closed doors. And so that's something we wanted to get out there, because I think it will ring true in a lot of readers' minds and make them think, Oh, well if I can think about that, then I can start to think about some of these other things.

Excerpt Copyright © 2021 by Christine Pride and Jo Piazza. From the forthcoming book WE ARE NOT LIKE THEM by Christine Pride and Jo Piazza to be published by Atria Books, an Imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc. Printed by permission.

Audio excerpt courtesy of Simon & Schuster Audio from WE ARE NOT LIKE THEM by Christine Pride and Jo Piazza; read by Marin Ireland, Shayna Small, Kevin R. Free, and Chanté McCormick. Copyright © 2021 by Christine Pride and Jo Piazza. Used with permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

“I know this because I’m ugly,” Tarana Burke writes in the first few pages of Unbound: My Story of Liberation and the Birth of the Me Too Movement. The words epitomize the affecting, no-holds-barred nature of Burke’s first memoir—available on September 14—a place where the activist continuously bares her soul and dissects the ways in which the actions of others, and sometimes of herself, have exposed her to the ugly truths of the world. Throughout the pages of her book, Burke shares the circumstances of her upbringing that led to activating the #MeToo movement and how confronting those hard-learned truths allowed her to become the changemaker she is today.

Burke spoke with Marie Claire about the challenges and catharsis of unpacking past trauma, the exhaustion of empathy, and where the #MeToo movement stands (and how it might move forward) after a tumultuous few weeks for its related organization TIME’S UP—which included being embroiled in former New York Governor Andrew Cuomo’s sexual harassment investigation and the subsequent resignations of TIME'S UP CEO Tina Tchen as well as its entire board.

Marie Claire: What made you decide you were ready to write a memoir?

Tarana Burke: It was always my intention to write a series of memoirs, like Maya Angelou did. So I thought I was going to, on the heels of #MeToo going viral, write this story of the last four years—more so, I thought I was gonna write a story for survivors...what survival looks like and telling stories of survival. But I think my agent was first [to say], "You should tell your story first." [So] I think the twist on it was [my memoir covers] the origin story of #MeToo and what happened since #MeToo.

MC: You write about discovering Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings as a child and the impact it had, particularly in helping you feel seen. Was that your ultimate goal in writing Unbound?

TB: My greatest hope for this book is that little Black girls, and survivors of all stripes, will see some part of themselves in my story or feel a connection. I think there has to be more literature in the world that helps people navigate this world, navigate their own lives. Because life is hard and it's long. People keep saying “Life is short.” But I'm like, “It's the longest thing you'll ever do.” And we need some support in that.

MC: How did you approach the process of reliving your past traumas including your sexual assault as a child? Was there any catharsis there?

TB: I think we have a set of stories that, if you string them together, is our life. “I was born. I lived here. We moved there. This happened, that happened.” We learn that story and we just keep telling it and telling it and telling it. And when I started writing this, I started writing it from that perspective. Then I started realizing, I do know my own story, but what I don't know, and what I hadn't acknowledged yet, was how much of my story I had not unpacked. So this writing process revealed so much for me.

MC: Was that a solo process? Or were you relying on friends and family to help?

TB: I definitely was talking about it with my therapist. I got two therapists during this writing process. [Laughs] I also have journals. I've been a journaler since I was in middle school—luckily my mom kept them. So I did a lot of going back and reading what 14-year-old Tarana was anguished about.

MC: What is your relationship to self-care now?

TB: For me, self-care looks like solitude. I need silence and solitude to decompress. Sometimes my husband will come look for me in the house and I'm sitting downstairs in a room in the dark. [Laughs] I do believe in tapping into what it is you need and not prescriptive self-care. I [also] need to be around green [spaces], so going to the mountains or to a lake has been really valuable.

Also this book—this is gonna sound crazy because everybody can't write a book—was a form of self-care for me, because I needed to get this story out of my body. When I was finally done, I thought, Oh my god, this has been a cleaning out of the attic. This is all of the stuff I'd packed away very gingerly...but I hadn’t vocalized them. So the self-care lesson for everybody who's not gonna go write a book is: rid yourself of the toxicity that we generate. There are these stories that seem benign, but they're really leaking toxic waste inside your body; we just let them sit there and fester and they add their own things. There were things that I have added to the story of when I was first molested at 7 that just didn't happen. I imagine that he told me, “This is what happens to ugly little girls.” I don't know if that's true, but I had made that true in my head. It was important to me to face it, to unpack it, to examine it really closely and then to get rid of it.

MC: There is a powerful line in your book: “It's a trap in which so many Black girls find themselves, either performing our pain or performing through it.” What would you, now, tell that young girl who was performing through and performing her pain?

TB: I'd tell her so much: “You are not the sum total of the things that happened to you.” It's gonna take more than one time of me saying, "Your beauty is not defined by what's on the outside, but what's on the inside.” And “You are beautiful because of how you treat people.” I wanna say that over and over and over and over again to her until she believes me.

It would have been helpful to hear it once. It would have been amazing to have that as a constant in my life. And I feel like that's the way I tried to set up my life so that I have access to young people, particularly young Black people, young Black girls and non-binary people, who need to hear it constantly in different ways, need to see it, and need to see it in practice.

MC: Going back to the shame you felt growing up—whether it was around your sexual assault or even going to the gynecologist—it's very much embedded in the culture of Black and Brown families to feel secretive about sex and sexuality. What would be your advice to parents or an older generation to end that cycle of shame?

TB: I've talked to parents, particularly in communities of color, about how we frame [how we speak about] protection around sexual violence. In my story, I wasn't afraid that my stepfather, even my mother wouldn't believe me [about my assault]. I was afraid of the fallout if they would believe me…[I thought then that] I would put my whole family in a tailspin [if I told them]. And that's because what I heard over and over and over again: “Somebody bother you, somebody touch you, I'll kill them.” And while that may feel like you're making the child feel safe, [you also make them scared of consequences]. Particularly if you live in urban communities where there's over-policing, you have early experience with law enforcement.

MC: A big part of the #MeToo movement is empathy. But there’s this collective exhaustion of empathy happening in 2021, on the heels of climate disaster, the ongoing pandemic, and other breaking news moments. How would you encourage people to keep caring?

TB: I think it's about perspective. All those things you just named existed when I was 18. It's just that we have more access to information now; it's on your timeline, it's on your newsfeed, it's in your chats, so it can become more overwhelming. But the flip side of it being everywhere is that there's more attention being paid to it. So for people who feel hopeless, I hope they're able to tap into the reason why it's everywhere. It's because of the progress.

We’ve had this significant progress in actually a short period of time because usually movements take a long time. And I think we've been deceived into believing they're supposed to yield massive results in very short periods of time. That's why history is important. That's why it's important to be grounded in an understanding of how we got here. Prior to #MeToo going viral, the biggest news around sexual violence and sexual harassment was 30 years ago with Anita Hill. Now we can point to several things in the last four years. So there's a lot to be hopeful for.

But also we're human beings; we're not meant to be hope and sunshine all the time. So allow yourself to feel what you feel because you're a human, but know that hope is waiting for you on the other side. Hope never really goes anywhere, we just close our eyes to it sometimes.

MC: What do you hope for the future of the #MeToo movement? And how do you think TIME'S UP can fit into that—what needs to be done to make sure that an organization like that can be a successful part of the next phase of #MeToo?

TB: I think that people are doing a lot of conflating. TIME'S UP is an organization that is a part of a larger movement. There's been good work that's happened [with TIME'S UP] and big mistakes that have happened. And that happens in all kinds of organizations. TIME'S UP is not #MeToo. The future of this movement is bigger than any one organization; it's bigger than any one country.

[TIME'S UP] is a young organization tackling an old problem. And what has happened in the last four years [with #MeToo] is nothing short of amazing. We've been able to keep the survivors at the forefront. But part of the future of this movement is understanding that it is not about accumulating wins. Movements are not just about wins and losses…. It's not the result of the investigation; it's the investigation itself. We couldn't have gotten things like that before. So we have to redefine what even a win looks like. The win is in the work. The win is in the attention being paid, the language changing, the narrative shifting, and the focus not being on people who cause harm, but people who experienced harm. So it's not the downfall of some powerful man, and it's not the downfall of a powerful organization. That cannot be the story of this movement. It's a disservice to the survivors who did the work. This movement exists because we survive, and it's a disservice to our survival to whittle it down to individual people who caused harm or organizations that get it wrong. That's not what we survived for. It's almost disrespectful to us to keep coming back to where the gossip is, where the mistakes are being made. I won't be a part of that.

MC: What do you hope to be writing about in a memoir 10 years from now?

TB: In 10 years, I hope I'll be able to unpack this moment. Maybe [by then] I'll be able to have some perspective and look back at how everything unfolded. But I also think that my life is bigger than the worst things that ever happened to me. I have love stories to tell. I have stories of being a mother and stories of being a friend, stories of being a daughter that I'd love to tell. Because I don't want to just keep telling my story of survival. I've also survived other things.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

One evening in 2017, about six months into motherhood, I drank my first glass of wine after nine happy years alcohol-free. I was 38 and with some new mom friends at a trendy restaurant in Denver, talking sleep training and weaning. My daughter was the best thing that had ever happened to me, but as enraptured as I was, I was also coming to terms with the fatigue, loneliness, and clipped wings that mothering an infant can bring. So I ordered a glass of Prosecco. I didn’t have to explain why I didn’t drink or worry that I was a buzzkill. It was the easy thing to do. I’d been seduced by the pervasive and dangerous myth pushed by social media, marketing, and Big Alcohol—a $253 billion industry in the U.S.—that booze makes motherhood much easier.

I’m not alone in that seduction. During the pandemic, women increased their episodes of heavy drinking, defined as four or more drinks within a couple of hours, by 41 percent. In winter 2021, anecdotal evidence from hospitals across the country emerged pointing to a 30-to-50 percent spike in cases of alcoholic liver disease, an illness that usually occurs in men and most often appears in middle age, over the previous year. The most dramatic upticks occurred in women under 40, who, says Brian P. Lee, M.D., a transplant hepatologist at Keck School of Medicine of USC, “have been disproportionately affected by pandemic-related stresses and may be drinking more to cope.”

The increase in ALD among younger women is alarming, but it isn’t exclusive to the pandemic. Instead, it’s a symptom of a larger, more serious problem that American culture refuses to acknowledge but can no longer ignore. Between 1999 and 2017, alcohol-related deaths among women in the United States rose 85 percent. Since 2008, the most dramatic increases in rates of consumption, binge-drinking, and alcohol-related health issues and injuries have occurred in women in their 30s and 40s. Women, it appears, are increasingly anesthetizing themselves to their lives in such a way that they are getting hurt, sick, and dying.

I used to love to party. In my twenties, booze was intimately intertwined with friendship, fun, and romance. Although my drinking looked a lot like that of my peers, it wasn't all good times. I stayed out late and then suffered emotional hangovers that lasted for days. I had a job at one of the best publishing houses in the world, but instead of making the most of it and setting up my professional future, I slogged through work mindlessly. I got drunk and fought with boyfriends. There were bad decisions and near misses. An inkling of awareness began to rise within me: alcohol was hindering my dreams—and me.

There was another niggling reality I couldn’t escape. I’d watched alcohol slowly eat away at my mother’s vitality. She was lovely, deeply empathetic, and kind. But when she drank, a glass became a bottle, and alcohol made her sad, volatile, and, at times, vicious. As with me, it amplified her anxiety and depression. I’d seen the road booze had led her down. In 2001, when I was 22, she took her life. 

My mother’s death haunted me, and on some level, I drank to forget it, even though I told myself I was having fun. But alcohol couldn’t fill the chasm her death had carved in me; instead, it deepened it.

So, after a boozy Fourth of July weekend in 2008, when I was 29, I quit drinking cold turkey. There was no rock bottom, AA, or intervention; instead, a growing realization: I wanted more from my life than to muddle through it in an anxious, hungover haze. I longed to write professionally and have big, rich experiences across the globe. But mostly, I wanted love and to be happy. Those dreams drowned out my desire for anything else.

In short order, everything seemed to blossom. By 2011, I was adventuring around the world —tracking leopards in South Africa, off-piste skiing in Europe—and getting paid to write about it. I got off antidepressants and benzodiazepines. I fell in love and married. For a long while, I never looked back.

Then in 2017, life changed dramatically. In the span of a year, my father died suddenly. My husband and I moved to a new city. And I became a mother. Nursing my daughter, her big blue eyes looking up at me, I’d never felt such love. But grief works in mysterious ways, and mine uncovered old insecurities. In my new city, I was hungry for connection. I was lonely and overwhelmed. My foundation was shaky.

At the same time, I was bombarded by mommy wine culture propaganda. There were Mama Needs Wine T-shirts at Walmart and memes on social media saying things like, “The wine glass is a lie you tell yourself. You know you’re going to drink the whole bottle.” I went to the park with moms who drank wine out of Corkcicle cups and to the zoo, where mothers sipped flights of beer—purchased as a small upcharge with their entry fee—while strolling their kids past tigers and giraffes. Motherhood, it seemed, provided both a reason and an excuse to drink.

All around me—from the beautiful, seemingly perfect moms I knew in Denver to the glamorous influencers on Instagram—women seemed to be living their best lives with a glass of Whispering Angel in hand. On some level I began to think, maybe wine would make life easier. So that night at dinner with my new mom friends, I joined in.

For two years after my first daughter was born, I tippled occasionally—a crisp sauvignon blanc with friends at dinner; cava with a neighbor on a summer afternoon as our kids played. Drinking was a temporary reprieve from the demands of motherhood and an easy bridge to friendship, but it pushed me further from myself. The feelings of happiness and connection were fleeting and felt artificial. I wasn’t a better mom; I was more tired, anxious, and depressed. So, about two years ago, I quit for the second time. Just as before, there was no rock-bottom moment; instead, it was a gradual letting go, a slow release of something that didn’t serve me.

Trapped at home with two young children during the pandemic made me consider, at times, going back to booze. After a tough day of tantrums and homeschooling, a glass of wine sounded pretty damn good. But I had learned that lesson.

For me, alcohol never delivered the benefits mommy wine culture promised. But motherhood’s obsession with alcohol speaks to an uncomfortable reality: Being a woman in the United States has become almost unbearable. From raising Ivy League–caliber children, caring for aging parents, and achieving impossible standards of beauty and success, to the gender pay gap, lack of adequate paid parental leave, and social media, which inundates us with everyone’s perfect lives, 24/7, women are buckling under the pressures of American womanhood and drinking to survive it.

Moreover, women typically shoulder both the weight—domestic duties, scheduling—and the worry of parenthood. One friend summed it up perfectly: “The list of what I worry about compared to my husband is endless. Feed them this, not that. Discipline, but not too much. What activities should they do? Who are their friends? The pressure on moms is overwhelming.”

The pandemic, with its school closures and social distancing, amplified these realities and laid them bare. It should come as no surprise then that women accelerated their drinking. “Alcohol,” says Ann Dowsett Johnston, author of Drink: The Intimate Relationship Between Women and Alcohol, “is the modern woman’s steroid.”

But instead of giving us what we really need—better pay, better leave policies, better childcare, among other forms of support and resources—brands have seized on our vulnerabilities, selling us on the notion that booze is a silver bullet cure to all of our problems. In December, Tropicana dropped an ad on Instagram that featured model and wine mom extraordinaire Molly Sims sneaking into a closet equipped with a mini bar disguised as a hamper to enjoy a mimosa. “It’s so I can be a better mom, the best mom,” she explained with a knowing smile. After significant backlash, Tropicana pulled the ad and issued an apology.

All of these memes, marketing, and merchandise are supposed to be so LOL funny. But what they really do is normalize dangerous behaviors and obscure the truth of alcohol, which is that it’s a category one carcinogen, in the same class as tobacco and asbestos. Just two glasses of wine a day is linked to a 30-to-50 percent increased risk of breast cancer. Aside from tobacco, alcohol is the deadliest drug on the planet, killing more people globally than all other drugs combined.

Those health risks aside, I suspect alcohol is having a far greater private toll than mommy wine culture leads us to believe. Beyond the outward destruction it can cause—DUIs and broken families—drinking undermines women in less obvious ways. It’s the shame after a wine-fueled fight with your spouse; the guilt after snapping at your kids following a big night out; the time and energy and opportunity lost on hangovers when you could be out sowing the seeds of your dreams. “It’s this internal destruction of women not living in their power and not living into their potential and not feeling in integrity with themselves,” says Laura McKowen, author of We are the Luckiest: The Surprising Magic of a Sober Life. “You can’t even quantify how big that loss is.”

But candid conversations about booze are hard to come by. After I wrote a recent story about pandemic drinking, messages from women around the world flooded my inbox. An acquaintance shared that she’d recently lost a female friend to alcohol-related organ failure. A nurse practitioner reported that she is seeing more severe and end-stage liver disease among women in their twenties. But the message that came to my inbox the most? How do I stop drinking?

Being a booze-free mom in an alcohol-obsessed world isn’t always easy. Deciding to leave alcohol behind is often filled with stops and starts. Groups like Sober Mom Squad, the Path, and Tempest offer sobriety support and alternatives to Alcoholics Anonymous, which, with its dogma and labels, can alienate people who don’t, say, identify with its mandate to admit that alcohol has made life unmanageable. Instead, these groups allow for more nuance: you simply have to want to examine your relationship with booze.

And if you do quit, you’ll find there aren’t a lot of us out there. I’ve been called boring because I don’t drink, and I suspect my sobriety at times makes others uncomfortable and might have social ramifications. But for me, being a good mother and wife, pursuing my dreams, and modeling all of that to my children means living alcohol-free.

Sometimes at night, I snuggle up with my girls, now two and four. I nuzzle into their soft curls and warm bodies. To be a parent is to live in a state of love and terror, knowing all that could befall your children. In these quiet moments, my past and my future flash before me. I pray for their health and safety, and plead with the universe that I will get to meet their babies. Sometimes I think of my own mother and wish that she could know these radiant girls. Would she still be here if she’d given up the bottle like me? I’ll never know. But most of all, I wonder who they will grow into. Though I know at some point my daughters will likely drink, I want them to understand that they do not need to look outside of themselves for anything; that they are perfect as they are, unadulterated by any substance.

Watching the rise and fall of their chests, like so many parents, I sometimes worry about the world they will inherit. Ultimately, we as a society need to address what is making modern womanhood in the United States so damn hard—the unrealistic expectations, the lack of affordable childcare, and so much more. But in the meantime, instead of normalizing this notion that alcohol makes us better women and mothers, let’s normalize the magic of authentic connection and presence—of being utterly ourselves. Instead of stigmatizing sobriety, let’s teach women and girls that we are strong enough to face life without a wine glass.

This story has been updated.

They are coming after our right to make our own decisions about our lives, families, and futures—and they are getting away with it.

The anti-choice movement, whose agenda is to end access to abortion care and make reproductive healthcare (including, even, contraception and IVF) more difficult to access, has been carrying out a focused and deliberate strategy to slowly but surely chip away at our rights via state legislatures and in the courts.

This year, they are aiming for their long-sought prize: an overturning of the landmark Roe v. Wade decision recognizing the constitutional right to abortion.

This year is already the worst year for attacks on access to abortion since Roe v. Wade was decided in 1973. State legislators hostile to abortion have introduced, advanced, or passed more than 315 bills undermining access to abortion since 2021 began—and they are showing no signs of slowing down. In 2021, more than 90 restrictions on abortion access have been enacted at the state level.

And now, as the Supreme Court is preparing to hear Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization—a case about Mississippi’s unconstitutional law banning nearly all abortions after 15 weeks—228 U.S. senators and representatives submitted a brief to the Court saying the quiet part loud: arguing that Roe v. Wade and Planned Parenthood v. Casey, two major abortion rights cases, should be “reconsidered and, where necessary, wholly or partially overruled.”

This comes just a week after the state of Mississippi filed its opening brief making the same ask, explicitly suggesting that the Court should overturn Roe.

This moment is the culmination of decades of work by those hostile to our fundamental freedoms. The anti-choice movement has spun a sinister web of laws that compound each other, increasing the costs of care until it is out of reach, closing down clinics that may never again open, and stigmatizing both those who access care and the doctors who provide it. Bans like the one in Mississippi will likely make it impossible for people who need to end a pregnancy to do so. Already the state has just one abortion clinic and multiple roadblocks that can delay a person’s ability to actually access care. These barriers to care impact most severely those already facing the highest obstacles to access, including Black, Indigenous, and other people of color; LGBTQ people; and those with low incomes.

Across the country, we’re witnessing a true avalanche of restrictions, seemingly hitting its crescendo now as the Supreme Court prepares to hear a case that could end the constitutional right to abortion in the United States.

Though we don’t know exactly what the Court will do, we do know that there is no path for it to uphold Mississippi’s 15-week ban without gutting or completely undoing Roe. Earlier court cases have considered laws designed to shut down abortion clinics or otherwise push access further out of reach; this one is explicitly about the legality of abortion. Previous state-issued bans have been tossed out by the courts because they were so patently a violation of Roe v. Wade; that the Supreme Court has agreed to hear Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization is extremely troubling. Thanks to the handiwork of Donald Trump, Mitch McConnell, and Senate Republicans, there is an anti-choice supermajority of justices on the Court hostile to reproductive freedom and abortion access.

Should Roe fall, there would be devastating consequences for women and pregnant people across the country. At least 24 states would likely take action to ban abortion outright. Twelve states—including Mississippi—already have “trigger bans” in place, which would ban abortion automatically if Roe is overturned.

The reality is that the right to abortion in this country is hanging on by a thread—and these anti-choice lawmakers want to do away with it entirely. But the American people don’t. Polling shows that 77 percent of Americans support Roe v. Wade and there is no state in the country where banning abortion is popular. The efforts of these lawmakers fly in the face of the values of the vast majority of Americans—the very same people they were elected to represent.

So it’s time for all of us to get to work to secure our fundamental rights. We must call on our leaders in Congress to pass the Women’s Health Protection Act, a critical bill that would safeguard the federal right to abortion care, free from bans and medically unnecessary restrictions. And they can’t delay: if abortion clinics are forced to shutter in the aftermath of a Supreme Court ruling, people who need abortion care will have few, if any, places to turn.

Elected officials have a clear mandate from voters to protect the legal right to abortion—and we won’t let them forget it. By signing onto this brief, these anti-choice lawmakers are blatantly seeking to subvert the will of the overwhelming majority of Americans who support reproductive freedom. But we’re already mobilizing our 2.5 million members to hold politicians accountable at the ballot box, canvassing for pro-choice candidates and protesting anti-choice ones. We won’t stand by idly as extremists work overtime to strip us of our reproductive freedom.

We’re fighting for a world where each of us has the freedom to dream our best lives and live them. We want a world where all of our families and communities have everything they need to thrive. We cannot and will not sit by as these anti-choice politicians double down on interfering in our personal decisions and cave to extremist pressure to turn back the work of generations.

A low-budget sci-fi movie from 1968 begins with this ominous broadcast from alien invaders headed for Earth: “Mars needs women!”

The best and brightest scientists from Planet Earth are currently working on making that trip in the other direction. In the process, they're testing a theory that women could be the most efficient option for colonizing the Red Planet. HI-SEAS, the Hawaii Space Exploration Analog and Simulation complex, recently concluded a one-month all-female mission simulation to examine how such a crew would handle life where only Mars Rovers have gone before. Located about 8,200 feet above sea level on the Big Island’s Mauna Loa mountain range, the HI-SEAS habitat is a 1,200-square-feet dome perched on the land’s Martian-like geology of rocks and lava. It has already served as the site of multiple long-term (four months to a year) simulated missions for NASA and a variety of private research groups.

With the Red Planet 249 million miles and about eight months (via rocket) away from Earth, every resource onboard ship and then on Martian soil would be precious. Weight is the enemy for rocket launches and proposed long space journeys, with resources, equipment, and crew needs constantly balanced against the physics of fuel supply. Any Mars-bound ship would need plenty of fuel, even for a one-way journey—and every pound of food is a pound of fuel not onboard.

The crew of the all-female, HI-SEAS Mars mission simulation from left to right: Beth Mund, Dr. Michaela Musilova, Amanda Knutson, Dr. Brandy Nunez, Richelle Gribble and Chelsea Gohd.

Since women generally eat and drink less than men—and often weigh less and therefore consume less oxygen—it’s a possibility that the first crew to set foot in the red dust could be all-female. NASA Scientist Geoffrey Landis, an expert on power sources and propulsion, laid out his case for a female Mars crew in a research paper available in a Harvard archive. He writes: “On the average, women have lower mass and take less volume than males, and use proportionately less consumables.”

But it’s not only physical attributes that make women a better choice for Mars missions. Landis proposes they could get along better locked up for months in a confined space en route to a new planet. “In addition,” Landis writes, “sociological research indicates that a female crew may have a preferable interpersonal dynamic, and be likely to choose non-confrontational approaches to solve interpersonal problems.”

“With missions like these, you watch a group of strangers become a family,” says Michaela Musilova, PhD, director of HI-SEAS Missions, who commanded the latest simulation. As an astrobiologist focusing on life in extreme environments, she has taken charge of 30 such simulated explorations and found no change in efficiency between all-women and coed missions. However, with the exclusively female crew, she says,“I found the women bonded more closely. These women came together and shared more quickly than coed crews I commanded.” All-male crews, she says, generally focused on “direct problem-solving” and are “more hands-on.”

The most recent HI-SEAS simulation gathered Musilova and six other women of varied backgrounds and professions as “analog astronauts.” To explore what such a group of multitalented women might bring to Mars life, the group's ranks went beyond the world of STEM and included a pair of scientifically-minded musicians: Chelsea Gohd, who is also a space and science writer and Dr. Brandy Nunez, also a microbiologist and veterinarian. Alongside the musicians were Sian Proctor, PhD, a geoscientist and professor who served on simulations in Poland and Utah in addition to two at HI-SEAS; Amanda Knutson, an active-duty Air Force member who calls herself an "Astronaut Hopeful" on Instagram; Beth Mund, science communicator and podcast host; and Richelle Gribble, an artist, curator, and gallerist.

Gribble says selecting such a diverse group of women examines what people of different backgrounds bring to problem solving and essential daily activities. The podcaster sent out regular "broadcasts home" from inside the simulation. Gribble created works of art. Past missions compared food systems (prepackaged instant meals vs. shelf-stable ingredients), and collected data on cohesion and performance and use of power and water.

Proctor values the opportunity to put women at the forefront of space flight and challenges the idea that astronauts can only come from the world of STEM. She thinks this “art heavy” all-women mission challenged the concept of who can head to space. “Simulations like this give us a chance to think about what other professions, like artists, bring to the mix when locked down together,” she says. “The idea is to explore what advantages different skill mixes bring to a crew, to see what works the best.”

“There’s the argument that an all-female crew would make a significant difference in resources,” says Proctor. “A mission like this better informs the decision before we eventually go to Mars.”

As the mission’s vice commander, Gribble's responsibilities included checking up on all of the projects underway within the habitat that simulate life in space. The mission assumes the crew already arrived on Mars via long term space travel. Daily life at HI-SEAS then becomes a mix of necessary survival activities, such as growing food and purifying water, and personalized projects exploring the diverse skills the women would bring to a distant world.

Gribble witnessed how the women learned to support one another when solving problems. “Space offers new challenges as every task brings on new issues,” she says. “As we worked together, this mission offered the opportunity to explore what everyone would bring to the table in the future of females in space. I think the most important opportunity that comes out of this is other women seeing themselves in our shoes.”

It’s 9:45 A.M. on a Saturday, 18 days before the New York City mayoral election primary, and Democratic candidate Kathryn Garcia is riding in a green and blue sprinter van, her face—at least two feet tall—plastered on the outside.

The vehicle is decidedly un-Garcia. She’s not flashy. She says that prior to a few weeks ago, people rarely recognized her on the street. (Hard to believe, considering the van.) Her Twitter account was created only once she decided to run. Her campaign isn’t relying on any pseudo-celebrity appeal, like that of entrepreneur-turned-political-hotshot Andrew Yang or former MSNBC legal analyst Maya Wiley. It’s not a pageant, and it’s not, for better or for worse, too rah-rah. Instead, it’s built on the rather unglamorous—she spent six years heading up New York City's department of sanitation, for Chrissake. She bills herself as an everywoman, fighting to build a New York that, in her words, works for everybody. Today, she’s canvassing.

Garcia is in the van’s first row, leaning forward, head between the driver’s seat and passenger seat, directing our chauffeur, John. The team is headed to the first spot on the day’s tour, the grand opening of her new campaign office on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn; it’s only a few blocks away from the Barclays Center, where she started the morning with a photoshoot for this story, but Garcia is in wedges. “Turn up here,” she says, ignoring the directions provided by Google Maps. “It’s faster.”

She knows these streets. Garcia, 51, was raised less than 15 minutes from where we are now, the daughter of a teacher and a labor negotiator, in a multiracial family. (Garcia and two of her four siblings were adopted.) She now lives just two blocks from her mother’s home, a reason that, if she wins the election, she won’t move to Manhattan’s Gracie Mansion. It’s a point of pride, her status as a lifelong New Yorker—unlike, infamously, her biggest competitors in the race, Yang, who hails from the Hudson Valley, and Brooklyn Borough President Eric Adams, who came under fire during a debate for allegedly riding out some of the pandemic in his second home in New Jersey (which, no matter how close, is most definitely not New York).

Garcia turns down the offer of a podium to address the roughly 60 people who have come to the grand opening to shake her hand or cheer her on (many of whom are campaign volunteers); she is, however, very excited about the step and repeat—posters of her papering a blank wall. John expertly parallel parks and Garcia enters the already crowded event. A fleet of staffers in green and blue shirts wave clipboards in a frenzy, fervently encouraging people to sign up for extra shifts on the phone bank. Garcia moves throughout the crowd, shaking hands, thanking volunteers. The buzz is palpable.

The commotion (and the van, and the Brooklyn headquarters) is new, thanks to Garcia’s sudden surge in the polls. Just weeks ago, Garcia was trailing a crowded pack led by mostly boisterous men. An endorsement from the New York Times editorial board in early May catapulted her campaign; she’s now considered a frontrunner. As of this week, she finds herself in the number two spot, just behind Adams. If Garcia wins the primary on June 22, she’ll be the democratic nominee in November. And in New York City, it’s a pretty sure bet that whoever has a “(D)” next to their name in the general election, has got it in the bag. If she does that, she’ll be the 110th mayor of New York City. And the first woman.

A New York public servant of 14 years, Garcia is no stranger to the ins and outs of running America’s biggest city (population: 8.3 million). Yet, despite her laundry list of qualifications, early on it was difficult to gain momentum and reach voters. She says Zoom campaigning was one of the reasons she wasn’t able to build name recognition. It’s easy to credit the Times’ support for her rise in the polls, but that would be diminishing her very long, very qualified resume, which includes roles in two mayoral administrations, and positions as the interim chair and CEO of the New York City Housing Authority and the commissioner of the Department of Sanitation. Garcia insists her late surge was by design; she didn’t want to peak too early. “This is a campaign that was designed for ‘May is the moment,’” she says.

Before voters knew her, many in government liked her—although they thought she’d never win. Armed with that underestimation, her competitors patronized her. In April, Yang said in an interview, “I think she’d make a phenomenal partner in my administration”; there are reports Adams has spoken similarly. Now that they see her as a threat, the praise has gone sour, inspiring literal trash talk about her work as Sanitation Commissioner.

“This is where my 14 years of experience are really shining, but it also says something about the fact that men do really believe that they should have the top job and that women should help make it happen,” she says of the change in tone. She thinks it’s entitlement that fuels much of the sexist rhetoric in the race. “I'll tell you right now, they steal all my lines,” she says. “In the debate, I said, ‘I am happy to have a conversation about my track record because I actually have one.’ And then Eric Adams got quoted as using my line.”

When Garcia decided to run, she understood the challenge ahead of her—she’s nothing if not practical. Not only would she have to win over notoriously tough New Yorkers, but she’d have to do it while navigating the sexist landscape that plagues female political candidates. “I know that it is harder for a woman,” she says. “You're going to have to work harder on the campaign. It's going to be tougher to raise money than it is for men. It's going to be tougher to get the endorsements that are part of the elected status quo—the people who've been trading favors forever. And that would just mean that we're going to have to work harder.”

After the office opening, Garcia climbs back in the van, headed for the Upper East Side, where she’ll canvas along an open street fair. As John drives up the FDR, Garcia points out a trash barge crossing the East River. During her stint as the Sanitation Commissioner, she banned styrofoam and implemented the nation’s largest composting program. She also sharpened her leadership skills: Garcia oversaw an agency of over 10,000 people. “It's about holding people accountable for the mission, but also just empowering them to do the work,” she says.

Under Bill de Blasio she was known as a pinch-hitter in times of crisis, someone to turn to to get it done—something of an unofficial campaign slogan. (She left the administration in September citing budget cuts and is now trying to distance herself from the unpopular mayor.) After Hurricane Sandy struck in 2012—causing the deaths of 44 city residents, an estimated $19 billion in damages and lost economic activity, and the displacement of thousands of New Yorkers—she brought 42 pumping stations and a water waste treatment plant online in just three days. At the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, she was dubbed the “food czar,” responsible for delivering 130 million meals to hungry or struggling New Yorkers.

Garcia is a textbook example of the “glass cliff” phenomenon—a theory established by two British researchers that powerful people tap women for leadership roles in times of crisis, when the chances of failure are greatest. She’s one of the millions of American women toiling away behind the scenes while suit-wearing men soak up the glory of their labors. “Of course I've had the experience of, like, I see something in the room and then a man says it and takes credit for it,” says Garcia.

And though a strength, her ability to “get it done” is often weaponized, too. One of the biggest critiques of her candidacy is that she’s not a visionary, but a doer. She doesn't see why she can’t be both. Garcia says she does, in fact, have a big-picture design for the city. “I want [New Yorkers] to have what my parents had,” she says. “I want them to have a livable, safe city.” She challenges the notion that her competitors actually have original ideas. “They keep copying my ideas,” she says. “Yang said we need to do a one city permit [for small businesses]. I know how to get this done. Yang actually came and said, this is a great idea. And I was like, how was he the visionary? Because he agreed with what I thought we should do.”

Still, it’s the “doer” mentality that fuels much of her platform. She claims she will only promise things she can actually accomplish. She wants to build 250 miles of protected bike lanes, invest in the subway’s fast forward program so that people can hopefully (actually) get to work on time, and house 50 percent of unhomed people before the end of her first term. “I want an ambitious but achievable program,” she says. That's a common approach in many of her platforms—aggressive, but not grandiose. Also on the docket: Introduce zero interest loans for small businesses, make all city school buses electric, and provide free childcare under the age of 3 for families who make less than $70,000 a year. Another priority: women’s health care. “I don't think anyone gives women's health issues the attention,” she says when asked if former mayors have done enough to protect reproductive rights. It’s why she’s planning to expand access to insurance and midwifery programs if elected. (Planned Parenthood of Greater New York Votes PAC endorsed Garcia as their number one choice.)

Over her years of working in the department of sanitation, she’s seen the sheer volume of waste New Yorkers produce every day. So she’s built her campaign, in part, on environmental conservation, and aims to expand the city’s composting project. On day one, she says, she’ll begin New York City’s transformation to a fully renewable energy economy. (Incongruously, she is carrying around a plastic water bottle to beat the 92-degree heat while canvassing, rather than a reusable one.)

The street fair is peak New York: Sausage stands and vendor displays line the sidewalk. It’s catnip for canvassing; campaign staffers for other, non-mayoral races are also handing out flyers, proselytizing. No one draws a crowd quite like Garcia. It seems recognition is no longer an issue: Voters flock to her and queue up for their chance to shake her hand or ask a question. In a moment so saccharine that it could have been planted, a little girl runs up to her and says she would be so excited to have a woman mayor.

It takes more than an hour to get down two blocks.

While she has no interest in being Yang or Adam’s number two, she thinks she could be a lot of voters’ number two at the polls; in fact, she’s banking on it. If enough people fill in her bubble for second choice (for the first time New York City is holding a ranked-choice primary), she could win. She’s massively electable, and that’s because, for the most part, her campaign has been breathtakingly uncontroversial.

But that doesn’t mean she’s evaded all scrutiny. In February, Philip Seelig, an attorney for the Sanitation Department enforcement agents, filed a complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and says he plans to file a class-action lawsuit. The complaint alleges that sanitation agents, who are mostly women and nonwhite, received less pay and lower pension benefits than men doing similar jobs in another division known as sanitation police. For Garcia, who has built much of her platform on the ideas of equal pay and gender equity, the accusation marks her first real campaign disaster. Her team contends the situation is being misrepresented, that there are large differences between sanitation agents and sanitation police, the latter of whom carry firearms and must have a commercial drivers license to be able to plow streets during a snow emergency. They also note that, under Garcia's tenure, the number of sanitation chiefs of color doubled.

According to a Garcia spokesperson: "As a woman leading an agency that was 98 percent male, Kathryn was committed to building a sanitation department that was more equitable and diverse than what she inherited, and she got results. ...Kathryn knows political attacks don’t solve problems, hard work and responsible leadership does. And that’s exactly the kind of Mayor she will be; she will continue to create a more equitable and diverse city government."

The other two women still in the running, Dianne Morales and Maya Wiley (who was recently endorsed by Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, and is also gaining steam) are more left-leaning, although Garcia calls herself as a “practical progressive,” which, she says, actually makes her more progressive than many other candidates. “The most progressive thing you can do is actually deliver,” she says. “If you have vision without execution, you haven't solved any problems. Vision does not get schools open. Vision does not get police reform done.”

The only candidate who has fully embraced the idea of defunding the police is Morales—a top progressive contender until recent turmoil within her own campaign staff caused backlash. Outside of increasing the minimum age for new recruits from 21 to 25, and holding her police commissioner accountable—as Garcia says is of paramount importance—how will she help end police brutality that disproportionately impacts people of color? “This is not a city where we are going to get rid of our police force,” Garcia says. “You cannot hashtag a policy. It is always more nuanced. Do we need to make changes? Yes, we do, but we have to have a police force that is a service to New Yorkers, that are really our guardians and not warriors against communities, and communities feel protected regardless of the color of their skin. That is possible.”

While Garcia doesn’t agree with some of Morales and Wiley’s policy ideas, she does respect both. “I want to make sure that I'm supporting the other women candidates,” she says. If there is a woman running who aligns with your views, Garcia adds, pick the woman—it’s time for a new perspective. While she supports both candidates, she won’t name who she’ll bubble in second on her own ballot.

The next stop on the trail is a multicultural fair in Harlem. Later, Garcia is headed to Queens, followed by an afternoon of meetings. She’s not the least bit tired, even though a race to become the first female mayor of New York must truly suck all of her available energy. “Women's voices are not held as compelling in the same way that men's voices are, and that needs to change,” she says. “Why am I running? Fifty percent of the population has not been represented in that chair.”

It’s both her ability to get it done and fresh, female perspective that she says poises her for the job. That, and the fact that she is fully a New Yorker. Her favorite restaurant in the city is Outerspace, a Cambodian and Vietnamese place in Bushwick, Brooklyn owned by her sister. She admits saying so “keeps me out of trouble with everybody else I'm friends with in the restaurant industry.” (For someone who doesn't define themselves as a politician, it’s a very diplomatic answer.) Her block is not the cleanest in Brooklyn—despite Garcia’s best efforts; you can catch her picking up trash on her street, often, she says, with her bare hands—but she loves it all the same. It’s her pet peeve when people balance a coffee cup atop an already full garbage bin. And unlike Yang, who was lampooned for claiming his favorite subway station is Times Square, hers is Astor Place, thanks to the wall art.

New Yorkers are sick of empty promises. They are sick of scandal. Coming out of a devastating year that almost gutted the city, New Yorkers want—need—a leader they can trust. “To put it in a very Brooklyn way,” she says, “[It’s time to] step up or shut up.” Whether that leader is finally going to be a woman is up to the voters, but Garcia wants them to know she’s up for the post-pandemic task. She understands the city is in a state of disrepair (a “shitshow,” as she put it last year), but she’s ready for the cleanup. That’s always been her job: taking care of the crap no one wants to see, cleaning up shit, and taking out the trash.

Women have been lighting up the silver screen for ages (Cleopatra, anyone?), but we’ve only just begun to scratch the surface when it comes to sharing their stories through a proper lens. (Just ask Greta Gerwig, who managed to smash seemingly every box office record on the planet with her feminist take on everyone's favorite Mattel doll.)

After years of viewing movies through a male gaze, Hollywood has seemingly set its sights on the other half, churning out films that delve far more deeply into the lives of great women from the past than ever before. What's more, many of the best feminist films have also been directed by women, ensuring that they'll be relatable to a female audience.

We've compiled a list of the best feminist movies that know no bounds, from the action-packed (Kill Bill, we're looking at you!) to the ultra poignant. Keep reading to find out which empowering titles made the list.

Feminist Action Movies

'Alien' (1979)

Ridley Scott’s sci-fi classic Alien was groundbreaking for many reasons, but in large part for its portrayal of Sigourney Weaver as a female action hero—the very first, according to TIME. As Ellen Ripley, a crew member aboard the alien-infested spaceship Nostromo, Weaver single-handedly proved that butt-kicking wasn't just for the boys. The xenomorph doesn't stand a chance against Ripley once she takes control of the mission.

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'Atomic Blonde' (2017)

Speaking of butt-kicking, Charlize Theron spends pretty much all of Atomic Blonde doing just that, and without the gratuitous emotion-filled backstory to justify her inner rage. To quote Theron herself: "[Usually] we need a reason to become a warrior. And I have a problem with that because we really are warriors, and it’s time for us to be shown that way. We don’t need to lose a child or a husband or have some kind of revenge story to become a warrior."

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'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' (1992)

Long before Wonder Woman was kicking some serious war monger tush on the big screen, there was Kristy Swanson as Buffy Summers (not to be confused with Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy Summers in the subsequent television show). A spunky high school student who could wield a stake with all the same verve as a pom-pom, Buffy was living proof we could do it all, slaying unsavory creatures of the night in between classes and trips to the mall. If we're being honest, it's also kind of fun to see Ben Affleck, David Arquette, and Luke Perry take a backseat to her wit.

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'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' (2000)

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon centers on a young woman (Zhang Ziyi) who rejects her arranged marriage and instead follows her own path to become a legendary martial artist. It's a beautiful, complicated movie with beautiful, complicated women.

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'The Hunger Games' (2012)

Jennifer Lawrence’s Katniss Everdeen is portrayed as a shrewd, skilled hunter with no time for the “rules” being imposed upon her—a.k.a. the exact opposite of your stereotypical female trope. Sure, she gets by with a little help from her friends in the arena, but make no mistake: The heroine of Suzanne Collins's beloved dystopian novels and its book-to-movie adaptation is no damsel in distress. She does her fair share of saving the boys. (We’re looking at you, Peeta.)

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'Kill Bill: Volume 1 and 2' (2003–2004)

Kill Bill centers on a woman (Uma Thurman) seeking vengeance against the man who ruined her life. While Thurman delivers an iconic feminist performance, it must be noted that Quentin Tarantino's treatment of her during this Weinstein-produced movie was truly reprehensible.

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'Moana' (2016)

Brave heroine? Check. A harrowing mission? Check. Haters? Also check. Both tough and empowered, Moana is the modern Disney hero we all needed. Bonus points for the fact that there are no pointless love interests here—just one super smart little girl and her trusty ocean sidekicks.

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'Mulan' (1998)

Mulan deserves praise for its portrayal of a woman determined to escape the stereotypes of her gender. Since 1998, it's been showing countless children that women are every bit as brave and as capable as men—and in Mulan's case, even more so.

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The Original 'Star Wars' Trilogy (1977–1983)

Princess Leia wasn't always given the most empowering material to work with on Star Wars, but Carrie Fisher made the character a feminist hero worthy of applause. It's through Fisher's criticism of the franchise (the gold bikini was not her choice; she was asked to lose weight) that the character evolved into the icon she is today.

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'Wonder Woman' (2017)

What can be said about Wonder Woman that hasn't been said before? It flipped a male-dominated genre on its head, broke all the sexist tropes that come with female superheroes, slayed at the box office, and excited millions of young girls in need of on-screen representation.

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Feminist Comedy Movies

‘9 to 5’ (1980)

9 to 5 is more than a catchy tune—it’s also the title of a 1980 Dolly Parton film about a group of working girls who join forces to enact revenge on their sexist, morally wayward male boss. While much of the film is fun and full of hijinks, it tackled some serious issues about inequality in the workplace in its heyday, even being hailed as “radical” for the time. Explained Jane Fonda: “What’s unusual about our film is that it deals with very serious subject as a comedy."

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'Barbie' (2023)

Greta Gerwig was given the mighty task of adapting the iconic Mattel toy into a film, and did she ever! The filmmaker managed to tackle not only every stereotypical perception of the doll (unrealistic beauty standards, much?) but also the way it has inherently been reflected upon women over time. The stellar production design, costuming, hysterical jokes, and A+ ensemble don't hurt this film, either.

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'Legally Blonde' (2001)

Anyone who doesn't think Legally Blonde is a feminist movie isn't paying attention. This film takes the ditzy blonde notion and turns it on its head by having its perpetually pink-clad protagonist, Elle Woods (Reese Witherspoon), get into Harvard like it's no biggie, then solve the major legal case of her year.

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'The Witches of Eastwick' (1987)

We’ve said it before, and we’ll say it again: Magic happens when women come together. That’s the lesson behind this 1987 cult classic, which sees three women (Susan Sarandon, Cher, and Michelle Pfeiffer) who have been scorned by the same man (Jack Nicholson) combining their powers to make him pay. And once he’s out of their hair? They'll live together in perfect harmony, natch.

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Feminist Sports Movies

'A League of Their Own' (1992)

An OG feminist flick, A League of Their Own is a fictionalized tale about the very real, very first female professional baseball league, whose team members went to bat against the patriarchy for its very existence. If that's not enough to convince you to give it a watch, it's also got an all-star cast of women that includes Geena Davis, Madonna(!), Rosie O'Donnell, and Lori Petty, to name a few.

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'Battle of the Sexes' (2017)

This sports biopic follows the story of real-life women's player Billie Jean King (Emma Stone). A quick history lesson? King came out on top of societal stereotypes in the so-called tennis "Battle of the Sexes" when pitted against the former No. 1 ranked men’s player, Bobby Riggs (played in the film by Steve Carell).

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'Bend It Like Beckham' (2002)

Bend It Like Beckham is a coming-of-age movie about an aspiring soccer player (Parminder Nagra) whose family refuses to let her participate in the sport because she's a girl. Naturally, she does it anyway, subverting expectations while also simultaneously falling in love. Also, please note that this movie was written, directed, and produced by a woman of color, Gurinder Chadha.

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'Whip It' (2009)

Directed by Drew Barrymore, Whip It reminds us all that a woman can rule the world (or at least high school) when she finds not only her spark, but a supportive group of women to cheer that discovery on. And for Bliss Cavendar (Elliot Page), who finds her voice when she finds her place within the local roller derby team, that spark comes on wheels.

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Poignant Feminist Movies

'The Color Purple' (1982)

Alice Walker’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel materialized on-screen for the first time in 1985 and became an iconic feminist film that has withstood the test of time. Whoopi Goldberg plays Celie Harris, a Black southern woman who survives years of abuse through the strength she finds within herself and from her female friends.

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'Daughters of the Dust' (1991)

Julie Dash’s indie drama Daughters of the Dust broke new ground as the first feature film to be theatrically released in the U.S. by a Black woman. Beyond smashing a major glass ceiling, it’s also a compelling, visually breathtaking film about a family of former enslaved people and their contentious decision to move from a Gullah community off the coast of South Carolina to the mainland.

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'G.I. Jane' (1997)

The inimitable Demi Moore dove headfirst into the fictional role of Jordan O’Neill, the first woman to receive special ops U.S. Navy SEALS training: She shaved her head for the part and underwent her own two-week SEALS bootcamp. While naysayers have criticized the film’s execution, the concept of overcoming inequality in the military was an important one. (For context, the first female sailor to complete a training course to become a Naval Special Warfare combatant-craft crewman as recently as 2021.)

“That [film] really posed a big question that at its core was like, ‘Why not? Why shouldn’t women be in combat?’” Moore later recalled. Her participation in the film also shed light on inequality in the film industry. “Being of the generation I’m from, I really wanted to find an action-oriented film, and I felt like the response I got was polite, but like I was crazy," she shared.

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'Jennifer's Body' (2009)

Diablo Cody’s feminist horror movie, directed by Karyn Kusama, sinks its demonic teeth into you in a big way. Megan Fox plays Jennifer, a high school girl who becomes the host to an evil spirit when a rock band sacrifices her body during a Satanic ritual. So, she feeds on boys to keep the demon (and her rage) at bay, leading to an enticing game of cat-and-mouse.

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'Little Women' (2019)

The feminism of Louisa May Alcott's original Little Women novel and its copious film and TV adaptations has been the subject of much discourse over the years. Still, Greta Gerwig's 2019 adaptation has a special place on our list, because it's a damn good story about four women who find—and wield—their power in different ways.

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'Mona Lisa Smile' (2003)

Julia Roberts was on a feminist roll in the early 2000s, first with Erin Brockovich and then with 2003’s Mona Lisa Smile. Playing out-of-town teacher Katherine Watson, she challenges the status quo at Wellesley College for women in the 1950s by changing their notions that their identities are meant to end at “wife” and “mother.” In turn, they teach her that embracing those roles in their lives doesn’t automatically mean rejecting feminism.

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'Promising Young Woman' (2020)

Director Emerald Fennell and actress Carey Mulligan confront rape culture, toxic masculinity, and trauma in Promising Young Woman. Mulligan plays a barista-vigilante out for vengeance for the college campus rape of her best friend. The film will enrage you, but it is also incredibly empowering and cathartic.

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'Thelma & Louise' (1991)

There's no greater movie about sisterhood than Thelma & Louise—a landmark feminist film about two women (Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis) who choose to stick together, come hell or high water. Though their ending may not be a happy one, it's a united one, through and through.

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'Waiting to Exhale' (1995)

Waiting to Exhale is a moving film about the power of female friendship. Following four women who stand by each other through their tumultuous love lives and career trials, its star power is immense, with Angela Bassett, Whitney Houston, Loretta Devine, and Lela Rochon leading the cast.

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'Wild' (2014)

Wild is an adaptation of Cheryl Strayed's memoir of the same name. Reese Witherspoon stars as Strayed, who packed up her belongings to hike 1,100 miles along the Pacific Crest Trail, solo style, while wrestling with her trauma. She's since inspired many other women to follow suit.

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'Whale Rider' (2002)

12-year-old Paikea Apirana (Keisha Castle-Hughes) has big dreams: She wants to be her village’s chief. The only problem? Girls aren’t allowed to hold the title. But it’s going to take more than a silly little detail like that to stop Apirana, who’s ready to do whatever it takes to prove herself to the village and her biggest critic: her grandfather and current chief of the tribe, Koro (Rawiri Paratene).

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True Feminist Stories

'Bombshell' (2019)

In this ripped-from-the-headlines drama, Charlize Theron and Nicole Kidman play Fox News anchors Megyn Kelly and Gretchen Carlson. Both women came forward about sexual harassment they faced from network CEO Roger Ailes, forcing his exit. Exceptionally good facial prosthetics aside, Theron, Kidman, and Margot Robbie (who plays a third, fictional character) give an, ahem, bombshell performance.

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'Boston Strangler' (2023)

Based on real-life journalists, this murder mystery explores how reporter Loretta McLaughlin (Keira Knightley) broke the story of the 1960s serial killer known as the Boston Strangler. She teams up with colleague Jean Cole (Carrie Coon) to report on the killings, with sexism aplenty along the way.

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'Erin Brockovich' (2000)

If you want to be inspired to effect real change, there's no better film to light your fire than Erin Brockovich. In an Oscar-winning performance, Julia Roberts plays the plucky paralegal and environmental activist who famously helped to win a lawsuit against Pacific Gas and Electric Company for contaminating water in the real-life town of Hinkley, Calif. Roberts portrays the film's heroine, whose work led in part to a $333 million settlement for the city's residents—a shining example of what happens when women stand up for what they believe in.

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'Hidden Figures' (2016)

It's hard to think of a more apt way to describe Hidden Figures than "inspiring," cliché though it may sound. It's a biographical drama about Katherine Johnson, Mary Jackson, and Dorothy Vaughan, a.k.a. three Black female mathematicians whose work led to some of NASA's most important historical milestones. The fact that so many people had never heard their story before its release is a true testament to how often women—and especially women of color—are sidelined in our history books.

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'Hustlers' (2019)

Based on a true story, this flick follows four dancers as they band together to con money out of the men who frequent their strip club. Sure, what they do is illegal, but in a way, they are taking their power back. Jennifer Lopez also gives a killer performance as the girl gang's leader.

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'Norma Rae' (1979)

Norma Rae tells the true tale of textile mill worker Crystal Lee Sutton, who made it her mission to unionize her place of employment in the face of low wages and unsafe working conditions. Sally Field won an Oscar for her take, which saw her fighting the good fight, even at her own cost, and succeeding.

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'On The Basis of Sex' (2018)

In this fictionalized take on the G.O.A.T., Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Felicity Jones takes on the Supreme Court judge's early fight for gender equality in the workplace. Consider a double-header with the 2018 documentary RGB.

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'Radium Girls' (2018)

A heartbreaking true story and one you may have never even heard of, Radium Girls dives into the radium poisoning of a group of factory workers in the 1920s. After several girls got sick, they banded together to advocate for safer work conditions. It's just one of the many important stories that make up the women's rights movement.

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'She Said' (2022)

She Said follows the true story of New York Times journalists Megan Twohey (Carey Mulligan) and Jodi Kantor (Zoe Kazan), who are known for exposing Harvey Weinstein and his history of sexual abuse against women. Their article ignited the #MeToo movement and opened the floodgates for women to tell their stories throughout Hollywood and across other industries. The film not only shows the courage of all of the women involved, but is a testament to the power women wield when they come together.

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'Suffragette' (2015)

The fight for women's suffrage wasn't just an American one. Suffragette follows the movement in London through the eyes of a young working mother (Carey Mulligan), who joins a radical political movement in the fight for women's voting rights. Meryl Streep and Helena Bonham Carter also star in this moving historical drama.

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'Zero Dark Thirty' (2012)

This war drama, directed by Kathryn Bigelow, sees Jessica Chastain as Maya, a woman who headed up the hunt for Osama bin Laden. The film was nominated for five Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Actress for Chastain.

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When The Red Tent—Anita Diamant’s fictional chronicle of the biblical life and times of Dinah, daughter of Jacob and Leah—was published in 1997, it garnered a devoted following, making the rounds among feminist book clubs and religious scholars. So beloved was the book, that it was transformed into a television miniseries in 2014. In many ways, Diamant’s revelations of ancient camaraderie and community—and all the connectivity conferred by menstruation—served as an early harbinger for today’s modern movement for menstrual equity. And now, nearly 25 years later, she has released its encore: Period. End of Sentence. A New Chapter in the Fight for Menstrual Justice (out today).

The inspiration for the book is the 2019 Oscar award–winning short documentary film bearing the same name, created and produced by a group of Los Angeles students and educators via a school club they’d formed; their mentor and teacher, Melissa Berton, provided the book’s foreword. After the film venture morphed into a global education and advocacy initiative called The Pad Project, Diamant endeavored to create a fresh, up-to-date resource that could further inform and energize the next generation of menstrual activists.

The pages of Period. End of Sentence. are filled with rich personal testimonies, details on political organizing strategy, and Diamant’s own wisdom on issues ranging from religious rituals surrounding menstruation to pop culture celebrations of periods to menstrual product marketing critiques. Woven throughout are powerful firsthand accounts from activists and everyday people alike: of bittersweet first (and worst) period stories, of grappling with the trauma of period poverty, and of surviving deeply held stigma and shame. Diamant knowingly and lovingly represents it all—with the keen eye of a reporter, the soul of a storyteller, and the voice of a trusted narrator. Her commitment to social justice and dignity for all shines through.

As an outspoken advocate for menstrual equity myself, Period. End of Sentence. offered an opportunity for reflection on ways to reimagine and reinforce the collective impact of our movement. Below, my top takeaways from the book.

Our stories matter—including (and especially) stories from those who lack agency.

Diamant discusses the robust legal and policy agenda underway in the United States (2021 policy goals are mapped out here). But it’s personal stories—like the many she shares—that are the lifeblood of organizing: they help enable better, more inclusive, and more meaningful policy for the very people the laws are intended to serve.

Take for example the justice system, which has been a focus for reform. As Diamant highlights in the book, legislatures in 13 states and several major cities, like New York and Los Angeles, now require menstrual product accessibility for people who are incarcerated; Congress mandates the same for federal prisons.

But the law remains silent when it comes to those in police custody. Last summer, as people across America took to the streets to protest racial injustice, I met a woman who shared with me the harrowing details of her overnight arrest for peaceful demonstration. On her period at the time, she was denied even toilet paper while detained. Eventually, she managed to remove her saturated pad—handcuffed, with the help of a cellmate, and in plain view of all—only to be left to bleed for many more hours. Her account became my fuel to recalibrate advocacy to expand the reach of laws that address menstruation, detention, and incarceration so that they cover everyone in the sprawling system. Diamant’s book fully reinforces this goal.

We need to reexamine menstrual access in schools.

Period. End of Sentence. (the book and the film) zeros in on youth and education. As a result, I’ve been moved to reexamine the strength and scope of laws mandating menstrual access in schools—especially in light of a new study showing that 1 in 10 college students have been unable to afford menstrual products during the pandemic. Women of color experienced disproportionate harm: nearly a quarter of the Latina respondents and 20 percent of Black respondents reported enduring period poverty regularly; rates were also higher among first generation college students.

Yet laws tackling menstrual access often fail to meet the needs of those most at risk. Six states now require that pads and tampons be provided in secondary schools. But what happens when those schools are shuttered—due to the pandemic, as many experienced this past year, or even for summer break? Given startling rates of period poverty among college students, how do we pivot to ensure campuses are not excluded from state mandates? (Earlier this month, Washington state passed a new law extending menstrual product provision to its colleges and universities—a good start!) These are key considerations that must be baked into the next generation of policy development. Diamante’s narrative supports this expansive approach.

It’s time to think globally—and take notes.

Leaders around the world are making sweeping change. Since Diamant’s book went to print, a grocery chain in Ireland began offering menstrual products free of charge to shoppers. At the start of the year, Scotland became the first country to mandate the provision of free period products to anyone in need. New Zealand will now do the same in all of its schools.

Here in the United States, calls for a nationwide, whole-government approach to menstrual equity have fueled key changes in Congress—some of which are referenced by Diamant, like the 2020 Coronavirus Aid, Relief and Economic Security (CARES) Act, which now allows menstrual products to be purchased with pre-tax dollars via health savings and flexible spending accounts. There are other federal advances, too: Pads and tampons are among the essential items that can be accessed with certain federal emergency grant funds; the Veterans Health Administration must make menstrual products freely available in all VA facilities.

Still, we can and need to do more. New federal legislation worth getting behind includes the Menstrual Equity in the Peace Corps Act to ensure access for our national volunteers, along with the reintroduction of the Menstrual Equity for All Act. This bill is designed to alleviate period poverty for multiple populations, including Medicaid recipients, people experiencing homelessness, students in all learning environments (elementary and secondary schools, as well as colleges and universities), and incarcerated individuals, including those held in federal detention.

Most importantly, we need to act locally.

Diamant references the fight to take down the “tampon tax”—one that must be fought state by state, given that’s where sales tax is levied (and sometimes by municipalities and counties, too). Here in the U.S., 30 states still fail to exempt menstrual products from sales tax, while collecting an estimated $125 million annually from our period purchases. (Click here to see where your state stands and how to take action.)

But countless other big changes can be made in our own communities as well. Consider raising the issue with your hometown officials and agencies; ask that they address menstrual needs in the facilities they oversee, whether it be a library, a recreation center, or a food drive. Part of acting locally, as Diamant reminds us, is simply raising our voices. Write op-eds and letters to your local newspaper. Write to your representatives. Push back against period shaming and online bullies. Make it safe for everyone to speak their truth.

The louder and prouder we all are about claiming these stories and connecting them to our advocacy and activism, the harder this issue will be to ignore and the further we’ll go toward eradicating stigma, passing better laws, and ensuring a world where menstrual equity reigns for all. Period. End of sentence.

Writer Nancy Jo Sales has a sort of double life: She is a reporter on what a sinkhole of misogynistic mindfuckery dating apps are; in 2015, her story “Tinder and the Dawn of the ‘Dating Apocalypse’” went viral, sounding the death knell for romance in the age of dating apps. At the same time, she started using them to answer the question of why she was almost 50 and alone. In her new memoir, Nothing Personal: My Secret Life in the Dating App Inferno, Sales hilariously and poignantly opens up about dating young(er) men, sending (or being sent) nudes, how dating apps reinforce the sexual oppression of women, and what it’s like to be both hailed as sex positive and slut-shamed. She spoke with Marie Claire about what all women can take away from her (mostly terrible) experiences.

Marie Claire: You started using dating apps when you were 49, but in reading the book I see that your younger female friends were the ones who gave you the most usable, good advice for your dating journey. Who should read it?

Nancy Jo Sales: I wrote this book for anybody who dates, really, but I wrote it because of and for younger women. The reason for it is that even though anybody who is that age—twentysomething, thirtysomething, including a lot of my friends and sources that I interviewed for articles or for my film [Swiped on HBO]—even though they all know dating apps suck, it’s still not something that is talked about in mainstream media. Even in this moment, when we’re experiencing tech-lash, as they call it, where people are dumping on Facebook (rightly so) and Mark Zuckerberg is being hauled in front of Congress and finally we’re having real scrutiny of what tech companies like Google, Apple, and Facebook are doing to our world. Dating apps—this is an important point that I try to make in the book—have somehow escaped this scrutiny or criticism. When I’ve come out and criticized them, I’ve been attacked, by Tinder notably.

I wrote articles about this stuff. I interviewed people. I made a film about it. Meanwhile, I was using [the dating apps], so I really knew from personal experience what all this is about. But still, when my Tinder article came out in 2015, Salon said, “Oh, she just doesn’t get it because she’s old.” The Washington Post said I was naive. Slate called my distaste for Tinder a “moral panic.”

The reason I wrote the book is actually because I connected with [young women] about using dating apps at my local pub in the [New York City’s] East Village. I go there, and I’m talking to everybody about this stuff. All these women are telling me, like, “Oh, my God. I’m so glad you said that,” and “This is so true.” Or I’d be on a podcast about it and they’d say, “No one is saying this. Why is no one saying this?” Online dating is not fun. It’s dick pics. It’s harassing messages. It’s nonconsensually shared nudes. It’s objectification. It’s having weird dates. It’s having guys want to just jerk off to you. It’s talking to a guy and realizing he’s talking to three other women at once. It’s bad dates where they just want to have sex right away. No one is saying that, because if you don’t like it, you’re not a cool girl or something. But that’s just wrong. We like to think that we progress and that feminism progresses, but there’s a lot of things about this that are the worst dating has been.

MC: It sounds like the Wild West.

NJS: It’s the worst time to date in my lifetime. I’ve been married and had a few relationships; I was “real married” once and “fake married” once. [The guy was still married to someone else. It’s in the book.] And I’ve had lots of boyfriends, but I’ve mostly been single for my whole life. I just wanted to share my own experiences with younger women so they don’t feel alone. They don’t feel like this is okay. It’s not okay. Getting a dick pic is not okay, no matter how much people want to laugh and make a joke out of it. It’s aggressive. It’s assaultive. It’s actually a crime [in some places].

MC: Did the book come out of the work you did on how the Internet and social media affect girls?

NJS: I’ve talked to hundreds and hundreds of women about online dating, of all ages, and the book starts with a woman my age because I wanted to show how it’s no longer just 24-year-olds who are using Tinder. It’s 64-year-olds.

MC: Who do you think has a thicker skin with it: you because you have more life experience, or younger women because they’re digital natives?

NJS: I don’t think anybody does or should have a thick skin about this. I think it’s abuse. I don’t think anybody should develop a tough skin about that, but what I do see is that, out of self-preservation, women say, like, “Oh, well, you know, I’ll just put up with this because this is the only way to date.” Sadly enough, it has become the only way to date, especially since the pandemic. Even before the pandemic, things were going that way.

My critique of all this is not a critique of the users. It’s a critique of the corporations that are exploiting users. They want our time, our money, and our data. They really don’t care if we ride off into the sunset with anybody. That’s not what they’re supposed to do. That’s not what we’re supposed to do.

The algorithms are just promoting you to continue to see the people who are already in the pool of your number of matches. It’s sort of like this elitist thing, and racist, where it’s promoting people of the same color, showing you people of the same color, and people who are matched on about as much as you are. It’s like this weird red velvet rope that the algorithms create.

I think the whole proposition is dehumanizing. I think it’s very concerning that corporate entities have overwhelmed our most private activity, which is not just dating but sex, relationships, intimacy. It’s disrupted, as they like to say, which is not always a good thing. They think it’s good, but it has disrupted the ways that we find intimacy in ways that are not actually intimate.

MC: Your perspective of the “before times” is probably useful.

NJS: Which was never perfect and not always great. I mean, as you read in the book, I got date-raped when I was 14 years old. I had terrible, terrible things happen to me. What I’m trying to say is I actually do think this is worse overall. We know that there are still problems with rape and sexual assault, sexual harassment in the workplace, domestic abuse. I don’t think that we’re suddenly in some promised land of feminism just because of MeToo, as important as it has been as a movement.

And dating apps are part of rape culture. The problem is that a lot of young women, in my experience as a reporter, feel that they’re not allowed to say that. They feel muted to criticize dating apps because that’s what everybody is using. The majority of people who use dating apps are not finding lasting relationships. So says the available data: Only 12 percent of American adults say they’ve ever had a relationship or a marriage through dating apps.

MC: You write that for online harassment, the laws haven’t caught up. But it sounds like the whole world hasn’t caught up to what’s possible via technology, whether it’s morals or etiquette.

NJS: The problem is that if you meet someone in person, we have evolved over tens of thousands of years on how to communicate in person. With online platforms, we don’t have the same ability to understand what others are saying, judge what the other person is like, or try and figure out if we can trust each other.

Also, screen time promotes aggressivity. I don’t have to keep telling you, “Well, the studies say…” but it is true that studies say that when you communicate over a screen, whether it’s on Instagram or Twitter (Twitter’s the big one where we see it), but also on dating apps, there is a tendency to be more aggressive.

Now, when you have men—straight men, I’m talking about, because that’s mainly my experience; you’re talking to straight men in the patriarchy, in misogyny, over a screen, which they have been led to believe through marketing is going to get them sex from you—they are not likely to necessarily see you as a full human being. Especially with the fact that the app provides them with pictures of you that they can put their finger on and judge one way or another: yes or no.

A lot of the so-called dating isn’t even dating as we even think of it anymore. It’s not like back in the day.... Again, I’m not so naive as to think that everything was great back then. But we did go on dates, right? We did make appointments to see each other and talk to each other and just have fun. Maybe we can go dancing, have a conversation. It didn’t necessarily mean you were going to get married or anything, but…the point of the whole date was to get to know each other.

MC: You quote some of the women saying, “I just want to do what I have to do to get out of there,” like they are willing to hook up if it means ending an awkward situation.

NJS: “I’ll do whatever—if it’s not too damaging to my psyche—just to get out of there.” But they’re being told what’s not damaging to their psyche or that it shouldn’t be damaging to their psyche. But it always is.

Two things about that. Number one, what you just said: How does it surprise anybody that women are not so excited about having sex with men right now when it’s all like dating-app hook-up sex? It’s like boom, boom, boom. It’s all influenced by porn.

You know, [men are] so uneducated. It’s also not their fault. These [dating apps] are corporations. These are dating apps designed by bros who just want to make money and brag about women they call “Tindersluts” or “Tinderellas.”

The reason it’s a memoir that goes back all the way to my childhood is because, as I started to think about all this, I realized that it’s all connected. Getting a harassing message from some dude on Tinder that says, “You look like you want to get raped”—there’s a direct through line from that to actually being raped as a 14-year-old to getting sexually harassed at work in the ’90s or catcalled on the street. I started to, as an older person, [think of] all the ways that I pushed this down, because we weren’t allowed to talk about this stuff.

MC: No. You were supposed to be a quote-unquote good sport. You know? Don’t take it too seriously.

NJS: Right. It just started to well up in me. When I went through menopause—it’s kind of like going through puberty. You get a little emotional and hormonal. I just friggin’ lost it on some people who deserved it. Like, I was walking with my daughter when she was 15. This girl is with her mother! We had come from an Italian restaurant, and we were carrying pasta. The guy was catcalling my daughter from a car that was stopped at a stoplight. I didn’t even think. I took my pasta—it was still hot—and I took that lid off, and I just dumped it on him in the car. It was summer, and his window was open. I said, “You better fucking think again before you say that to my kid.”

MC: You struck a pasta blow for all women.

NJS: I think that if I hadn’t been at that point, as a mom going through menopause and just having that anger come up in me, I wouldn’t have done that. But you have this accumulation of all the times you were catcalled as a kid, all the times [harassment] happened to you. This was all happening to me, this feeling like I’m going to explode, as I’m going on Tinder and encountering these horrible guys.

Just because everybody is doing it, and just because people joke about it like it’s a fun thing, and just because the Vows section of The New York Times talks about an “OkCupid marriage,” that doesn’t mean that your experience, which we know from studies is typical, where you got harassing messages, or you got called a name, or you got made to feel uncomfortable, or you went on a date and something horrible happened—that doesn’t mean that your experience isn’t valid. You deserve respect on these apps.

MC: So where do twentysomethings (and others) who want relationships go from here?

NJS: I happen to be older, but this isn’t my truth. This is the truth. This is the truth: that dating apps are bad for women. I’m not saying that for every single woman, because of course there are people who met their happily-ever-after [on an app]. But in general, overall, I think the apps have been very bad for women, and I think they are [part of] rape culture.

I would hypothetically suggest some sort of [bold] move for self-preservation: Everybody put down your dating apps! But unfortunately, I do not think this is likely or possible because (a) the corporations have overwhelmed all of dating; there’s no other way to date right now. And (b) their whole design is to get you addicted. I interviewed [Tinder CSO] Jonathan Badeen for my film Swiped, and he openly and proudly talks about how “Oh, yeah. We designed it to get people addicted.”

It seemed to me that the creators of this app, Tinder, and other dating apps that employ the swipe aren’t really interested in helping us find lasting connections and relationships, as their advertising promises; they really just want us have a relationship with the app itself.

But then, when I was writing my memoir, I started to think further about the swipe as a mechanism that promotes social conditioning. I started to read the work of people like Jaron Lanier, who have railed against how the primary goal of social media is to turn us all into “obedient dogs” (his words) who do just what the platforms want us to do. And I started to think about how this affects women even more cruelly, because as women living in systemic misogyny, we are already conditioned to think and act and feel in ways that support the system that keeps us down. And here are these apps—these addictive apps—that are further conditioning us to think and act and feel in certain ways on top of and in addition to how we are already programmed by society at large.

For example, these apps promote sexualization and objectification; they are all about the male gaze. They promote the idea that women are to be judged on our appearance in just a split second, and rated accordingly, yes or no, fuckable or not. The ramifications of this alone are very real. Some research has shown that women who use dating apps are more likely to feel low self-esteem, to compare themselves unfavorably to other women, and all the rest. So, we become addicted to using this app that makes us feel bad about how we look.

There needs to be, like, a reimagining of this whole thing, but I don’t see it happening any time soon, unfortunately.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

This article has been updated.

In states like Alabama and Texas, you can grab a Snickers bar from a vending machine tax-free, but when women need to purchase a tampon or pad—for a routine bodily function that often causes pain, discomfort, and prohibits many of us from attending work or school—these items are not considered "necessities of life," and are therefore taxed. Because of this tax, women in the United States are estimated to spend an additional $150 million per year on menstrual products. Just women.

If men got their period, would we still be having this conversation?

Thankfully, organizations like Period Equity, a national law and policy advocacy group dedicated to ensuring accessible, affordable, and safe menstrual products, are working to remove the tampon tax in the 30 states where it still remains in effect. In June 2019, they introduced a collaboration with LOLA—the women-led period and sexual wellness brand—for a coordinated legal, advocacy, and public engagement campaign called, "Tax Free. Period." Together, the groups are raising awareness for the unconstitutional state laws in place, and aim to ensure all period products tax-free by Tax Day 2021.

So which states still have a tax on menstrual products and which states have eliminated it? Find out the status where you live, along with how you can take action and help fight for menstrual equality, via our handy guide, below.

Alabama

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

JOIN THE FIGHT TO REMOVE THE TAMPON TAX

Alaska

This state doesn't have sales tax to begin with, therefore menstrual products are tax-free.

Arizona

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

JOIN THE FIGHT TO REMOVE THE TAMPON TAX

Arkansas

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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California

Effective January 2020, California residents will not have to pay taxes on menstrual products until January 2022. However, after the two years, it will need to reconsidered by the governor when determining the state's budget. Currently, there is no permanent law in effect. More here.

Colorado

The city of Denver has eliminated the tampon tax, but a similar measure in the state legislature was postponed indefinitely in 2017.

JOIN THE FIGHT TO REMOVE THE TAMPON TAX

Connecticut

Connecticut eliminated the tampon tax in 2016. It was part of the SB 502 bill and went into effect on July 1, 2018.

Delaware

This state doesn't have sales tax to begin with, therefore menstrual products are tax-free.

Florida

In 2017, Governor Rick Scott created a $180 million tax cut package, which included eliminating the tampon tax in Florida. It went into effect January 2018.

Georgia

State Rep. Debbie Buckner introduced a bill in January 2019 to remove the tax, but instead the state decided to provide free menstrual products to people in low-income schools and communities. It's a great first step, but we can do better.

JOIN THE FIGHT TO REMOVE THE TAMPON TAX

Hawaii

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Idaho

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Illinois

Governor Bruce Rauner repealed the tampon tax in 2016, which is stated in SB 2746. Tampons and pads were originally taxed as "luxury items" ...I'll leave that right there.

Indiana

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Iowa

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Kansas

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Kentucky

House Rep. Attica Scott filed House Bill 23 in January 2019 and pre-filed Bill Request 107 in July 2019 to exempt feminine hygiene products from sales tax. It hasn't been considered since.

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Louisiana

In May 2019, Senator J.P. Morrell sponsored a bill to eliminate the tax on menstrual products. It stalled in the Senate, then was later revived and sent to the House. It hasn't moved since.

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Maine

In 2018, a bill was pushed forward by Maine's House and Senate for a sales tax exemption on feminine hygiene products, but it has been sitting on Governor Janet Mills's desk ever since. According to The New York Times, she called for a rethink of the entire tax policy.

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Maryland

Maryland's sales tax exemption includes feminine hygiene products, as it considers them medical products.

Massachusetts

Massachusetts' sales tax exemption includes feminine hygiene products, as it considers them medical products.

Michigan

House Bills 4165 and 4166 would exempt these products from taxes, but the legislation hasn't passed yet. In August 2020, with the help of Period Equity, three Michigan women filed a lawsuit against the state.

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Minnesota

Minnesota's law exempts a wide range of hygienic products from sales tax—even outside of the menstrual realm, like breast pumps and wheelchairs. You can see exactly what those are here.

Mississippi

This state currently taxes menstrual products, and has one of the highest taxes in the nation.

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Missouri

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Montana

This state doesn't have sales tax to begin with, therefore menstrual products are tax-free.

Nebraska

Nebraska's tampon tax bill, LB 170, was introduced by Senator Megan Hunt in January 2019. It has been indefinitely postponed since August 2020.

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Nevada

Nevada eliminated the tampon tax in 2018, citing that it placed an unfair burden on women.

New Hampshire

This state doesn't have sales tax to begin with, therefore menstrual products are tax-free.

New Jersey

New Jersey has exempted feminine napkins and tampons from being taxed, as shown here.

New Mexico

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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New York

New York eliminated the tampon tax in 2016. "This is a regressive tax on essential products that women have had to pay for far too long and lifting it is a matter of social and economic justice," Governor Andrew Cuomo stated when he signed the law into effect. It's also the first state that requires the disclosure of ingredients in menstrual products.

North Carolina

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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North Dakota

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Ohio

In October 2019, the Ohio House of Representatives passed a proposal repealing Ohio's tampon tax with unanimous support. It later passed through the Senate. In November 2019, Governor Mike DeWine made it official.

Oklahoma

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Oregon

This state doesn't have sales tax to begin with, therefore menstrual products are tax-free.

Pennsylvania

Pennsylvania has exempted sanitary napkins, tampons, or similar items used for feminine hygiene labeled under the umbrella of paper goods.

Rhode Island

In February 2019, Rhode Island lawmakers reintroduced a bill in the House to eliminate the tampon tax. Democratic Rep. Edith Ajello and Democratic Sen. Louis DiPalma originally filed the bill in 2016, but had no success. The repeal of the tampon tax was officially passed in the FY 2020 budget. It was signed by Governor Gina Raimondo and went into effect on October 1, 2019.

South Carolina

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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South Dakota

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Tennessee

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Texas

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Utah

This state exempted its tax on menstrual products in December 2019. "The Utah legislature's willingness to end the tampon tax is also an acknowledgment of another stark reality: Neither Utah nor any other state can defend what amounts to state-sanctioned discrimination," Jennifer Weiss-Wolf and Emily Bell McCormick told Newsweek. "And state leaders are wise to avoid the expense of being taken to court."

Vermont

This state currently taxes menstrual products. However, in March 2021, the Vermont Senate passed S.53 to remove the tax, which will now move to the House.

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Virginia

In 2019, Virginia lowered the tampon tax, but has yet to eliminate it. In January 2020, the Virginia Senate unanimously passed SB 231 to completely eliminate the tax, but it hasn't moved in the House since.

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Washington

Governor Jay Inslee signed SB 5147 on April 3, 2020, eliminating the state's tampon tax. It went into effect on July 1, 2020.

Washington, D.C.

D.C. removed its tampon tax in 2016. The initiative was led by D.C. Councilmember Anita Bonds. "Women should not be taxed because they are women, nor should babies be taxed for being babies," Bonds stated at the time, according to The Post, referring to both tampons and diapers.

West Virginia

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Wisconsin

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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Wyoming

This state currently taxes menstrual products.

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To stay informed and receive the latest updates on your state's tampon tax, head on over to Period Equity's website. You can also find a running list of 2021 legislation in progress here.

As leaders of national organizations that mobilize women, workers, and their families and as mothers ourselves, we know that American families stand at a tipping point. Our country cannot recover, and we cannot move forward, without paid leave for all.

When schools shut down, we watched our kids struggle to make progress at home and in virtual classrooms. We tried to help them learn, then worked late into the night after putting them to bed. We worried about our grandparents and older relatives in nursing homes, making impossible decisions to try to keep them safe. We talked to our coworkers, repeating to each other: “This isn’t sustainable.” And we thought about the women doing and risking so much more: the ones without the luxury of working from home; the ones leaving their families or putting their lives on the line to care for our family members; the heroes who have carried us through this pandemic.

Well, on behalf of the tens of millions of workers and voters our organizations (Paid Leave for All and Supermajority) represent, we say that this needs to end. Paid leave isn’t only a “women’s issue” or something that would be “nice to have”—it’s an economic imperative in our plan to build back better.

Long before the pandemic hit, women disproportionately shouldered the burdens of caregiving. They watched after our elderly relatives, taught our kids, and worked in our hospitals. They did more with less, again and again. And now, the only reason our country has remained intact through this crisis has been thanks to the work of women, people of color, and essential workers—and at the intersection of all three, the women of color on the front lines. These women held us all together, while also organizing, volunteering, and voting. They literally saved our lives and our economy.

And yet, what have they gotten in return?

Embarrassingly, the U.S. is one of only two countries with no form of national paid leave. We invest less in childcare than almost all other developed countries. Of the 195 countries in the world, 179 countries have paid sick leave, but not us. And eight in 10 working people in America don’t have paid family leave through their work.

We’ve both been lucky—we’ve been able to get some kind of paid leave when we had our babies. But this only gave us a greater appreciation and empathy for women forced to return to work just a few days after giving birth. For women healing from major surgeries, postpartum depression, and complications, the system offers no protection. Many go back to work still in stitches, still bleeding. And years later, when their parents get older, these same women often use every sick day they’ve saved up just to help with their care.

Now, in a pandemic, think about what that means. Many of the workers you have seen every day—treating you in a hospital, delivering your groceries, or filling your prescriptions—did not and still do not have the guarantee of a single day of paid leave if they become ill or need to care for a newborn baby, a child, or a family member.

That’s meant that women are no longer just doing double shifts; many are doing triple shifts, juggling paid work, unpaid care work, supervising remote school, and taking on additional responsibilities. Sixty-six percent of women have reported being primarily responsible for helping children with remote learning during the workday.

Our profound failure to support them has forced women out of the workforce in droves. And when 5.3 million women’s jobs disappeared over the last year, that didn’t just hurt women—it impacted men, families, entire communities, and the economy. Families collectively lose $22.5 billion each year because of a lack of paid leave, and that was before the pandemic.

This unprecedented crisis has created the urgency we need and a once-in-a-generation opportunity for Congress to finally pass comprehensive paid leave for all legislation, like that introduced Wednesday by President Biden as part of the "American Families Plan."

Voters agree. Last year, Paid Leave for All surveyed voters in 11 states with competitive senatorial elections and in 42 congressional districts likely to be tight races and found that 85 percent and 86 percent, respectively, supported paid leave. Two-thirds of small business owners also want a national paid leave plan. Research done recently with TIME’S UP and Caring Across Generations showed that more than 90 percent of voters support paid sick, family, and medical leave in a comprehensive plan to help families.

Paid leave and caregiving policies are also good for the economy. They have the potential to help the economy grow at least 5 percent by bringing women’s labor force participation rates up to levels seen in other countries. McKinsey researchers recently found that taking action before the end of the pandemic to enact policies that advance gender equality could add $2.4 trillion to our GDP.

We cannot pass on this opportunity to protect our workforce and fortify our economy.

Because, no, paid leave is not a “women’s issue.”

Paid leave is an economic issue. Paid leave is a jobs and infrastructure issue. Paid leave is a racial justice issue. Paid leave is a small business issue and a military families issue. Paid leave is a rural issue and an urban issue. Paid leave is, at its core, an issue that affects everyone, everywhere. We can and must pass paid leave for all.

Amanda Brown Lierman is the executive director at Supermajority, an organization aimed at training and organizing women across age, race, and background to push for women’s equity. Before her time with Supermajority, Brown Lierman was the Democratic National Committee’s political and organizing director and is a former national political director for Rock the Vote.

Dawn Huckelbridge is the director of Paid Leave for All, a campaign of 25 organizations to win paid family and medical leave for all working people. She has held leadership positions at Supermajority, American Bridge, Planned Parenthood, People For the American Way, and the Barbara Lee Family Foundation.

Elizabeth Nyamayaro's memoir, I Am a Girl From Africa, is not just a recitation of her life's events. Instead, in poetic and powerful ways, the former United Nations senior advisor shows how both momentous obstacles and seemingly insignificant interactions can transform how you see the world and change the world. In Nyamayaro's case, that change has included her UN Women solidarity initiative, HeForShe, which has become one of the most formidable catalysts for gender equity since its launch in 2014. In honor of the release of her book today, Nyamayaro sat down with close friend, Oscar-winner, and fellow humanitarian Anne Hathaway. During the wide-ranging and inspirational conversation, they unpack the building blocks of compassion, the changes in perspective that need to occur to move the needle on gender parity, and why the African principle of Ubuntu may be the key to a better, more empathetic world.

Elizabeth Nyamayaro: Hi Anne. It's weird to see you this way because I just want to hug you and hold you.

Anne Hathaway: Seeing you was already going to brighten my day anyway. But that is a fantastic yellow [top].

EN: [Yellow] is one of my favorite colors because it reminds me of my upbringing in a small village in Zimbabwe, where I used to wake up to these bright skies. And now I wear it as a way to carry Africa with me.

AH: Well, your book, I Am a Girl From Africa, it feels like a gift to and for Africa.

EN: Yes, it really is. Because it's a story about my life and what it felt like being a girl growing up in a small village in Africa. It's also called "a girl" because I know that my story is one of millions of stories from the continent…Hopefully for other young girls in Africa to see themselves through my story and for them to see what's possible when we dream big.

AH: Well, we've been friends for many years. So I can't think of anyone else [better] for young people to look up to. [We] met through our mutual mentor, Susan. And I remember the phone call I got from Susan after you and she had connected. She said, "I just met the most amazing woman." And I think that anybody that knows you would describe you in that phrase. [But] you called your book, I Am a Girl from Africa. Why was it so important to you to begin the story when you were a girl?

EN: I think it's very easy to look at somebody and be impressed by what they've accomplished or who they are, from a title standpoint. I was just recently a senior advisor at the United Nations. And I think that's sort of the identity that people saw me through. And I wanted them to understand that there's a big backstory behind that. That I haven't always been this “powerful women” at the United Nations. That I was just a girl in a small village in Zimbabwe but with a very big dream who refused to be defined by where I was born or be limited by my current circumstances.

AH: I felt so much of the book was a love letter to Zimbabwe. I've never been there but you made me feel the weather. And you made me feel nature. So what was it like to grow up in Zimbabwe? And what would you like people to know about where you grew up?

EN: What I want them to know is just what a wonderful childhood I had. I was raised by my Gogo—my grandmother. And our village sat on this hill that was surrounded by rolling green pastures and farmlands. The biggest thing for me is how we lived as a community. We looked out for each other. And that was a lovely thing that if you needed anything you only had to ask. And often someone offered what they knew you needed before you asked because we farmed together, we shared our food together. I think it's something that we often don't talk about as well. In the media, there's often this sort of single narrative of Africa: of poverty and the disease. And nobody bothers to show just how lovely life can be [there].

AH: I love to hear that your childhood had so much beauty in it. Because when I think of you and the way you approach life, I can't think of anyone more elegant, chic, and with such an innate appreciation for beauty. Do you think you got that from being a child in Zimbabwe?

EN: The very core of who I am is literally inspired by where I come from. I remember as a child, my grandmother—my Gogo—explaining to me that, before I was anything else, I was foremost a child of the African soil. And that meant being incredibly blessed. And so yes, my love for beauty, my love for community, my love for family is really because of how I was raised. And I think that's something that you and I connected on as well because you are so much about the community. And I remember once we were friends, meeting some of your friends; you have friends who you've had since you were a child, and you're so protective of that, and you build networks, and you build communities. So I also got that from my village and I think that's how we connected.

AH: I think that it's so important because who better to share the good times with [than friends]? But not every single time is good…You had a near death experience when you were a child. Would you mind talking about that?

EN: At the age of eight, everything changed in our village. We had a severe drought that literally left us with nothing to eat or drink. And we went for days without food. And I remember one day, I was so weak from hunger that I was unable to move. And in fact, in my young mind, I thought I was going to die. But then a miracle happened. This girl in a blue uniform, who happens to be an aid worker with the United Nations, found me [laying on the ground]. She gave me a bowl of porridge. And that literally saved my life. When I then found out who she was, and I realized she worked for the United Nations, and I thought, "Well, I too just want to be the girl in the blue uniform." Because I have to find a way to make a difference in the lives of others in a similar way that this girl had made a difference to my life. And so that was really the moment that sparked my dream to become a humanitarian.

AH: So we were in the UN Women offices when you told me that story for the first time. And then a few years later, we sat on my kitchen table, and you said, "Annie, I'm writing a book. And I have the first chapter." And I didn’t realize that I was the first person that you read it to!

EN: Of course you were!

AH: I was obviously so moved. I knew the story, but that was the first time I had heard your voice as a writer… But you are an innately private person. So what was it that say made you go, "This is the moment I'm opening up. I want to share my story.”

EN: So many things actually. But let's just go back to that evening at your home, at the kitchen table, having dinner. It was such a magical moment. Because I knew that I wanted to write a book… but I was feeling so insecure about it. I wrote the first chapter. And then I read it to you. And you were so responsive to it. And I just thought, "Okay, maybe I went down a good path, because I trust your taste." But yes, I tend to be quite private. But then I realized speaking to [our mentor] Susan, and speaking to you, that there was so many girls and young people who could benefit from hearing my story.

I remember in my early 20s having a moment when I left African continent, I was in London for the very first time, trying to pursue my dream. And there were so many things that happened when I was there. And I just remember thinking, "Maybe one day I would like to write a book.” But it took more than a decade to actually have the courage to do it. And I realized when we look at the world right now, the issue of representation really matters. I think it's time that minorities, people who look like me, are also able to own our stories and share them through our own voices, so that other people who look like us, can see what's possible. So I decided to put my own discomfort to the side and try to do this for my continent and for girls who look like me.

AH: I swear on almost every page praying that every young person in the world would read this. And I found myself also praying that every single person in a position of privilege and power would read the book, to understand, to hear firsthand a story of the triumph of grit, and hard work, and determination. You've faced so many obstacles along the way. And you talk about your beloved Gogo—who now feels like a member of my family—and you talk about the wisdom that she gave you that helped you in those moments. Can you tell us a bit about some of that wisdom, specifically, Ubuntu?

EN: Ubuntu is the very essence of who we are as Africans. It's an ancient African philosophy that recognizes our shared humanity. It literally means, "I am, because we are. And because we are, you are." It’s this idea that our humanity binds us and connects us to each other, no matter who you are, or where you are from, or what you believe in. And this for me was the core of what it meant to be part of a community. Ubuntu is really the understanding that, when we recognize that we are all connected, it's a lot easier for us to treat each other with compassion. And it's also what further motivated me—besides this one incident with a girl with the blue uniform—to want to do good. Because understanding that you're part of a collective also means understanding that you have to play your part to make a difference in the lives of those around you… It was the fuel that gave me energy when everything else was falling apart. And I almost felt like my dream was never going to come true. But I knew there was a bigger purpose, and I knew that I had to do it, because achieving my dream would also improve the lives of so many people.

AH: I just want to sit for a second to make sure everybody just heard that. Because people talk a bit a lot about what's wrong with the world. And then I look at you, and some of the stories that you shared in the book so generously, and it seemed that that sense of community was an undercurrent through all of them. And I wrote a quote down, because I felt like it was appropriate to this conversation and what your achievement is here. It's from Maya Angelou, and it says, "If you're going to live, leave a legacy. Make a mark on the world that can't be erased." If you did nothing else, you have made a legacy. And with this book, you're ensuring that it cannot be erased. You're sharing it and I think that it's going to leave a huge mark on anybody who reads it, especially young readers.

What would you tell yourself at the age of eight? A girl who doesn't know the legacy that she's going to leave.

EN: The first one is: Never ever give up… As you know from the book, there were so many moments when most people would have given up. And I didn't give up because of this lesson from Gogo that we never, ever give up. And then something I would tell myself is: Your dreams are valid. And you should chase them no matter where you're born, or what your kind of circumstances look like.

AH: What was it like to have to go back to those difficult times? To have to share things that feel so vulnerable—because I think that we all tend to maybe armor ourselves a little bit to get through the world. But you're showing people really who you are, what you're made of, what these formative experiences are, and I think that's really brave.

EN: I know that most people would think that it was difficult. But it wasn't actually… I remember arriving in London in my 20s to pursue my dream, and I literally had 250 pounds to my name. I didn't know anyone in London—no friends, no family—I was just determined to pursue this dream. Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. But what was also jarring for me was just how the perception of who I am—which I had always been proud of—became something I had to constantly defend. Because the way that people perceived Africans—most people held these biases of who Africans were that were in complete contradiction to how we see ourselves.

I even remember watching television and seeing in fundraising commercials, Africans depicted as lazy or waiting to be saved, endlessly walking around refugee camps. And we're never portrayed as protagonists of our own stories, even though in our communities, we are our own heroes. We take care of each other and we uplift our own communities. Because even just trying to get a job became nearly impossible because I knew that people saw me as less than because I was “this girl from Africa.” That I wasn't worthy of a job in a British company. But then I realized that some of these sentiments were not always coming from a place of hate, but rather from misinformation, and learned biases, and what the media told them. And so that's the really the first moment that sparked my dream to think, "Maybe I can be part of shifting that narrative and showing people what Africa means to me—the Africa that I know and love."

Fast forward to writing the book: Once I made the decision that I was going to write the book, I decided then it had to be the truth, and nothing else but the truth. And I had to tell it as it happened and put my own discomfort to the side. So it was almost liberating since this was something I'd wanted to do since the early 2000s. And I was finally being able to do it, and I was just grateful. And it made it less painful to relive.

AH: Also didn’t you just get a great review from Oprah?

EN: I did! There's a really lovely sentence at the end when she says, “Nyamayaro heart-warming and inspirational story is symbolic of the faith, community uplift, and interdependence a girl from anywhere needs to soar." And it is not just about girls from Africa. I think it is a story for girls from Brooklyn, like you. It is hopefully a story for girls from Chicago, girls from India, girls from whatever country. Because I think there's also the universality of this story which is, we often feel insecure about some aspects of our life. You don't think you are as pretty as the next girl—which are all just subjective things, by the way, and not really important—or you feel that your family is not as wealthy as the other family, or you're insecure about the way that you speak and your accent, or your voice, or the color of your skin or your hair. And I think there's something about with this book that I wanted to share that, yes, I am a girl from Africa. And I'm proud of that. And these things define us. And actually, it's a beautiful thing to be a girl from Compton or Croydon, or whatever it may be. So the fact that Oprah says that this is really a book for a girl from anywhere…it's a nice feeling. It's a wonderful feeling.

AH: I'm so happy for you. I'm so happy for all of us. Because I think you're touching on something that's so important. And it's something that's taken me a really long time to learn—and if we can hopefully pass this down to the [next] generation so that they get a head start on it—is your external circumstances should never be the factor that defines your self-worth.

EN: Yeah. I've questioned everything about myself growing up. While I was at the British school, my skin, all of a sudden, became an issue. Was my skin too dark? Was my hair too curly? Was my accent too thick? And then it's something that you realize more than anything else, being your true self is enough. That's all you can do. Because everyone else is taken. You might as well just be yourself. I think that’s actually a famous quote from someone.

AH: I love that one. Another one that I love is, “It's not my business what other people's opinion is of me.”

I mentioned earlier that I want people in power to read this book… The reason that I want them to read that is because I want us all to understand that if we have any power at all, we should be making it not quite so hard for someone like you to be able to realize a dream. You and I met when you invited me on behalf of UN Women to become a Global Goodwill Ambassador, and you have made your life's work, gender equality. And that means that you and I both know that the status quo is slow and that it is going to take over 100 years for us to reach parity. So my question is for you, as a brilliant woman and an expert, what is something everyone can do immediately, today, to put an end to gender inequality?

EN: I think you kind of skimmed through that quite fast because, you and I, we've been in the trenches on this issue.

AH: You have been in the trenches!

EN: Well, you were in the trenches with me. What was really interesting [then] was your courage to say, "Let's figure out a way to engage those in positions of power." Because, as we know, many issues of gender inequality are about power. Who has it? How do they use it? And for whose benefit? And currently right now men make the majority of decisions across all levels of society. And you and I have been working as part of this HeForShe Initiative, which is a solidarity movement for gender equality, to engage men and, in particular, those men in positions of power to do more with that power in a way that serves all of humanity. And we have worked on very inclusive policies, which you have been a big champion of. For instance, Paid Parental Leave, to also make it equal for women. Because these inclusive policies not only benefit women, they benefit all of society.

I want to share one of my favorite moments by the way. I remember speaking to you and we're talking about what needs to happen, and we're going to engage all these powerful CEOs. And then you said, "But I'm now part of the UN. And I also want to make sure that we make it equal for the staff of the UN. Why don't we have Paid Parental Leave policy in the UN?" But it's a much more complicated thing. It requires all the heads of states to agree to it.

And you said, “Can we just speak to the Secretary General about it?” And Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, [the Executive Director of UN Women with the rank of Under-Secretary-General of the United Nations] who was my boss, we sort of thought, "Well, that's a bit bold." [Both laugh.] But you did it anyway. You had a conversation with him, and you made it very clear that it was very difficult for you to go out and do your work, and tell the world to be equal, when the UN itself wasn't leading by example. And he listened to you. And none of our Goodwill Ambassadors had ever done that, by the way.

AH: Let me just mention the Secretary General was extraordinarily receptive. And it wasn't a case of my needing to convince him. He was very much already there. But that boldness that you were talking about, I have to say, I was very inspired by you. And by the righteous ambition of HeForShe, and how extraordinary I thought it was for you to compassionately look at the scenario and say, "Yes, historically men have been a huge part of the problem which means automatically they must be part of the solution." You created a space within a culture for men who do want to uplift women. And by creating that space, we've now seen a lot of men step into it.

EN: I think that is a really good time for your previous question which was, “What can we all do?” One of the things we can all do is create solidarity and create inclusive movements. Because it's never going to work if it's just one set of society working alone. What HeForShe really did was to create a new normal of an inclusive approach to gender equality. It’s about all genders being invited to the table to work alongside women and girls, in creating societies of equality. Because if you look at the history, there are so many women who have come before us who have made it possible for you and I to sit here today and have a chat. Because they've put in so much effort into creating gender equality, but yet we are still very far from where we need to be, because it's often been seen as an issue for women led by women. And we can't do it alone. We need to have all of society, all genders, working as a collective. And so that has given me so much hope that, with everyone, with all hands on deck—and we've seen some of that impact already—we can actually get there at a much faster pace than trying to do it alone. It's a movement that was built on the principles of Ubuntu—if we are to dehumanize each other, we also are dehumanizing ourselves.

AH: HeForShe gave space for people who have stepped into the world in an over privileged position, who were born into a position, who have an imbalance in the amount of privilege that they have, it gave them a chance to redistribute it. Where they could be a part of saying, "I see this for what it is, and I'm going to take responsibility for making sure that the buck stops with me. And that my generation is the last one." A quote that I love is Napoleon Hill’s, “A goal is a dream with a deadline.” And currently our deadline [for gender parity] is 100 years. and I just think we're going to do better than that.

And to bring it back to your book for a second, I hope it's a rallying point for people. Because you're so unflinching in what you share about your life, the beauty of it, the hardship of it, the what was actually required for you to become you. And the world is going through an unprecedented time, and people are probably really struggling to maybe believe in themselves. What would you say to those people as someone who has gone through extraordinary struggles in your life?

EN: I am an eternal optimist. I firmly believe that some of the most optimistic people you ever meet are from the African continent, I think it's something to do with the fact that we have overcome quite a lot and we have found a way to be resilient and take each moment as it comes.

But [right now] when you're isolated from that human connection it is very challenging. But I'm only the person that I am because of Ubuntu. I truly am because we are. There so many people that have been part of uplifting me. Who have been part of building me into the person that I am today. And I'm also able to be unflinching because I know that I'm part of a community that if I were to fall, someone would catch me. So I think one of the things that I would encourage anyone going through a difficult time is just reach out. Reach out to a friend, reach out to someone within your own community. But it also goes the opposite way, right? If you are in a secure place, take the time to reach out to somebody. We need to remind each other that we are a collective and I think the COVID pandemic is literally shown that to. Regardless of whether we wanted to believe it or not, what happens in one part of the world can indeed impact people everywhere. And that literally our well-being is interlinked. Remind [people] that we don't have to suffer so much on our own.

AH: I was speaking to someone recently, and we were saying that we were a little discouraged. The news can be pretty rough. And especially how people treat each other, that dehumanization that you were talking about, that means that you are not living in the fullness of your humanity. And that will lead you to suffer far more than you need to. And so I was talking to this person, and she just said, "Annie, I’m just trying to be a good person." And I said, "You know what, I'm trying to do that too. So if you keep going, I'll keep going. We know there's at least two of us."

EN: That's what it takes. And I've seen it time and time again in communities. When people take individual small actions to make a difference, often those small actions culminate into big change. So the more of us doing it, then the quicker we can create progress. So thank you, and I'm putting up my hand, I'll be the third one.

AH: What is something that's given you hope recently? Hope in yourself, in the world, and humanity? All of it, aside from your Oprah review. We just have to just scream for a while about that.

EN: I think what's give me hope is, despite all the challenges, I think we are also seeing more than ever sort of an uprise of social movements. And a lot of people don't want to live in a world that is divided; don't want to live in a world that's dehumanizing of others. Seeing the work around the Black Lives Matter movement or the Stop Asian Hate Movement. I think it gives me hope that we are getting to a point where we just don't accept things as they are. And we don't accept injustices as they are.

AH: And the thing that's giving me so much hope is this young generation that understands social justice work to be a reason to live and that we must not stop until we are all equal. And so I just wanted to mention that a part of that is having a conversation in which you might hear that something that you've done is not okay…And that you're always welcome to upgrade. You're always welcome to do better and you're always welcome to step into Ubuntu, to step into your compassion, to drop into your humanity, to acknowledge your own and acknowledge your stuff.

EN: That's really powerful. I was speaking to somebody else the other day and they were asking me, “What if someone is saying that they are experiencing racism and I don't believe them?” And I was like, "It's not for you to believe them." Nobody wants to walk around feeling like a victim so when someone says, “Hey what you've done offended me,” the least you can do is listen and not just discount them.

AH: If somebody is telling you that they feel hurt or they are experiencing racism or sexism or inequality in any way from you, listen. Listen to them, believe them. If they're saying that they're experiencing it from someone else, listen, back them up, give them space.

EN: Amen to that.

AH: So I have two final questions if you don't mind. Elizabeth, what kind of girl from Africa could teach the world?

EN: I actually think that Ubuntu, the very essence of who we are as Africans, could be one of our greatest gifts to the world…We see the humanity in each other, even in our greeting. And our Shona greeting literally translates to, “I am well, as long as you are well.” And that's how we greet each other every single day. Them taking time to actually understand if you are well. Because they know that if you're unwell, then they are unwell. And then they are going to feel motivated to do something about that. So I think that's something that we can learn from Africa in a very profound way.

AH: I think that if it's okay, I'm going to make that my greeting too…Because it's an invitation to just say, "I'm here, I see you, I receive you. How are you?" Which leads me to my last question: When can I cook you dinner?

EN: People might not know this about you, but you make mean meals. I love dinners at your house. They are so special.

AH: I'm going to hold that then that's going to happen at some point [soon]. And just thank you. Thank you so much for this book. Thank you for this time. Thank you for being so open. And I'm so proud of you, my friend.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

From the Jazz Age to Disco, the Barbizon Hotel was a refuge for women fleeing their staid pasts and seeking an exciting, fulfilling Manhattan life. Opened in 1928 on Lexington Avenue and 63rd Street, “the Dollhouse” as it was later nicknamed, was a so-called “respectable” hotel for women, one of several in the city. It was not a boarding house, known at the time for scratchy black horsehair sofas and dull communal dinner tables—a seedy Victorian vibe—or a co-ed hotel, where one might, god forbid, be confused for a woman of loose morals.

According to this fascinating new book The Barbizon: The Hotel That Set Women Free by historian Paulina Bren, after the Roaring Twenties, single women were flocking to New York City in unprecedented numbers and expecting to have careers just like men did. The Barbizon Hotel for Women advertised itself as the right place for a young respectable career woman to meet the right kind of people, for around a reasonable $11 dollars a week (about $165 today). Vanity Fair called it “a genteel fortress” with “the feel of a luxe convent.” Prospective tenants needed three references and were graded according to their looks, manners, and style. Ali McGraw, Grace Kelly, Lauren Bacall, Liza Minelli, Joan Didion, Cybill Shepard, Candice Bergen, and Sylvia Plath were among those who passed through.

During the pre-contraception days (the Pill was legalized in 1965), there was a feeling in society that “nice” girls—and their virtue, their reputations—needed to be protected. And, for many, that safe space was the 23-story edifice of coral-pink brick and sandstone façade with Romanesque, Gothic, and Moorish embellishment. It housed 700 guest rooms just big enough for a single bed, a petite easy chair, and the then-impressive technology of a radio built into the wall. Most rooms shared hallway bathrooms, dormitory-style. There was a library, a pool and gym, a roof garden, and studios to practice painting or singing arias. Discreet entrances off the lobby led to a coffee shop, a bookstore, and a few other shops that were all the well-heeled and well-bred woman could supposedly want. A mezzanine over the lobby allowed women to scope out the dates coming to pick them up. At afternoon tea, a lady played a pipe organ. It was the kind of place where conservative parents might be okay with sending small-town daughters, since there was a gatekeeper doorman and eagle-eyed ladies at the front desk who enforced the hotel's most important policy: no men allowed upstairs at any hour of the day or night. After sundown, even the elevator operators were women.

The Stork Club, one of midcentury Manhattan’s storied nightclubs, invited Barbizon women to eat and drink for free, because the mystique of the hotel was that it was brimming with beautiful women. The Barbizon (named after the French school of Naturalist painting to create an artsy vibe) was also where the editors of literary fashion mag Mademoiselle decided to house the winners of its annual college Guest Editor program. The 1953 cohort included Plath, who dramatized her 1953 summer there in the classic feminist novel The Bell Jar. She called her fictional hotel the Amazon. Plath ends her semi-autobiographical tale with the heroine going to the rooftop and flinging her prized wardrobe, collected for the summer stint as a fledgling magazine editor, off into the Manhattan nightscape. IRL, Plath left the Barbizon after the Mademoiselle program was over, went back to the family home in Massachusetts, and overdosed on pills in a crawlspace, where, after a nationally publicized search, she was found barely alive.

The “Katie Gibbs girls,” who attended a white-gloves secretarial school, had reserved rooms. Ford Models put up recruits there. Grace Kelly was an awkward brunette drama student wearing heavy glasses. Aspiring dancer Jaclyn Smith (of TV’s original Charlie’s Angels) hung out with model Dayle Haddon. Cloris Leachman, fresh from the Miss America Pageant, stayed there on her way to stardom. Judy Garland was said to frantically call the front desk to keep tabs on daughter Liza Minelli. Peggy Noonan, presidential speechwriter, did a stint. Little Edie Beale (before Grey Gardens fame) lived there from 1947 to 1952. Mademoiselle also brought Joan Didion, Diane Johnson, Ali McGraw, Meg Wolitzer, and fashion designer Betsey Johnson.

The Barbizon that Bren describes is conspicuously white. She suggests that the first Black woman to stay there was probably Barbara Chase-Riboud, who, she says, in 1956 was also the first Black Mademoiselle guest editor. Chase-Riboud went on to be a noted poet, author, and artist. Phylicia Rashad stayed in 1968, aged 16, for a stint at the prestigious Negro Ensemble Company, a groundbreaking theater company run by and for Black people. It would have been interesting to learn more about actual rules the hotel had regarding women of all races. There are mentions of how Chase-Riboud was supposedly asked by Mademoiselle editors to step out of meetings with Southern advertisers and a semi-joking reference that she wasn't told of the existence of the Barbizon pool, but race relations are somewhat skimmed over. I would have loved to know the experience of other women of color or minorities at the Barbizon. Was it strictly WASP-only, or were there Jewish, Muslim, Italian-American, or Asian women in the guest log? How did race and class play into the grades that front-desk guardians gave to women who applied? Also, one of the foundations of the Barbizon's appeal, as per Bren’s book, is that no men were allowed. There is little talk about guests’ same-sex relationships. Were there ever any openly gay women in residence?

In 1981, the hotel was struggling financially and changed its policy to let in men. By then, young women (and their families) presumably didn’t have the same worries about reputation. Feminism was having its Second Wave—with Roe v. Wade, Ms. magazine, and the E.R.A. The liberated women who might otherwise stay at the Barbizon could have jobs and credit cards and bank accounts and apartments of their own. They could even cohabit with a significant other—not necessarily in wedded bliss. In 2005, after enduring a series of owners (including Steve Rubell and Ian Schrager, of Studio 54 nightclub fame), the building was turned into luxury condos, housing Ricky Gervais and the chairman of Meow Mix cat food, among others.

Speaking of catty, Bren threads through the book the story of “the Women,” those who never managed to leave the Barbizon for that dream of a suburban split-level, a penthouse apartment, or a palace plus Prince Charming (in Grace Kelly’s case, His Royal Highness Rainier III of Monaco). With rent-controlled or -stabilized apartments, the Women were unbudge-able. In 1957, Gael Greene, who had stayed there as a Mademoiselle guest editor and was later the New York magazine restaurant critic, reported for the New York Post on the “Lone Women,” who remained at the Barbizon, presumably not having made their fortunes or started families. Those stay-on renters were eventually herded into an un-zhuzzhed part of the building, where the remainder continue to live to this day in shabby-sorority splendor.

If you love the glimpses of the long-ago New York City of Midge Maisel and Peggy "Mad Men" Olson, you will want to read this true tale of a bygone New York City.

Over the years, history has seen countless incredible women. We're talking about the kind of inspirational, powerful heroes who shook up the world as we know it. From women's rights activists and pioneers of racial equality to inventors, scientists, and world leaders, there are plenty of women throughout history who did the damn thing. So, even though we're still often faced with blatant discrimination on the basis of sex, real progress has been made. For inspiration that'll drive you to make your own mark on the world, find inspiration in just some of the many women who shifted our culture in meaningful ways.

(If you're searching for more inspiration from badass women, we've gathered a list of female Black history heroes that have gone unsung, and for movie lovers, a list of the best feminist movies of all time.)

You can thank Jane Austen for basically creating those romance books you love to read. In her teenage years during the early 1810s, she started writing her most famous novels, like Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility. She didn't even get credit for her novels until after her death when her brother Henry publicly announced she was the author. Even today, the themes of her works and literary devices still hold up.

Lydia Liliʻu Loloku Walania Wewehi Kamakaʻeha of the Kamehameha Dynasty became the first and only reigning queen of the Kingdom of Hawaii in 1891. After she was arrested and overthrown in an 1893 pro-American coup d'etat, she continued to advocate for the Hawaiian people and their nation’s sovereignty until her death in 1917. She was also an author and songwriter who composed more than 150 songs, including one of Hawaii’s most well-known songs, “Aloha Oe.”

Nellie Bly basically set the standard for investigative journalism. At a time when women writers were confined to the society pages, Bly tackled more serious topics like mental health, poverty, and corruption in politics. She's most famous for going undercover at the insane asylum on Blackwell’s (now Roosevelt) Island. Her exposé on the horrific conditions brought about much-needed changes to patient care. She also set the world record for circumnavigating the world. She completed the feat in just 72 days.

Marie Curie did not leave science to the men. Instead, the Polish scientist's work led to the discovery of two new elements, polonium and radium, and championed the use of radiation in medicine. She became the first woman to win the Nobel Prize in 1903, then she won again in 1911 in Chemistry.

When her husband Franklin D. Roosevelt took office, Eleanor didn't just stand by—she dramatically changed the role of the first lady, advocating for human rights, women's rights, and children's causes. She went on to become chair of the U.N.'s Human Rights Commission in 1945.

In 1928, Earhart was the first female pilot to fly across the Atlantic Ocean. She was also the 16th woman to be issued a pilot's license. She mysteriously disappeared during a flight in 1937, and was pronounced legally dead two years later.

Hollywood has historically been a tough industry for actors of color, but Wong found box-office success as a Chinese-American actress in the 1930s. Her decades-long career survived the transition from black-and-white silent films to talkies and technicolor. In 2022, she became the first Asian American featured on U.S. currency.

A force in the art world, Kahlo became known in Mexico and around the world for creating thought-provoking works grounded in magical realism. Her 1938 self-portrait, titled "The Frame," was the first work by a 20th-century Mexican artist to be featured in the Louvre.

The beloved sitcom I Love Lucy made its television debut in 1951. Ball became known as one of America’s top comedians for her iconic role on the show, which had storylines about marital issues and women in the workforce.

The "Golden Age" actress was credited for helping to co-invent a radio signaling device, a.k.a a “Secret Communications System.” The system changed radio frequencies to confuse and hinder enemies during World War II, and it's a crucial part of how we communicate wirelessly today.

In 1966, Gandhi became the third prime minister of India, and is one of few examples of women rising to power in the country. She continued in her role for more than 20 years until she was assassinated in 1984.

Johnson, a mathematician, was one of the brains behind the complex calculations that helped us fly into space. In 1969, she helped successfully send the first man to the moon. Her work is highlighted in the film Hidden Figures, about the pioneering African American women at NASA.

Frank was a young Jewish girl who died in a concentration camp in 1945. Her father, Otto Frank, escaped and published his daughter's now-famous diaries in 1947, which chronicled her experiences during the Holocaust. Her writing has helped historians (and readers) better understand the time.

After the death of her father King George VI, Elizabeth became Queen on February 6, 1952, but her official coronation wasn’t until June 2, 1953. She was Britain’s longest-reigning monarch, and she made numerous changes to the monarchy during her rule.

Back in the '50s, the rule in Montgomery, Alabama, was that if a bus became full, the seats at the front would be given to white passengers. Parks, a leader in the local NAACP and the civil rights movement, iconically refused to give up her seat. Her willingness to disobey the rule helped to spark the Montgomery boycott and other efforts to end segregation in America.

She was already a widely-known American jazz singer when, in 1958, she made history, becoming the first African American woman to win a Grammy. She collected two that year: best individual jazz performance and best female vocal performance.

We can thank British scientist Rosalind Franklin for much of what we know of DNA today. Using X-ray diffraction methods, she discovered DNA's density and, more importantly, its molecular structure. This gave way to James Watson and Francis Crick's discovery that DNA is shaped in a double helix. Her discovery changed how scientists view genetics and how genes are passed down in families.

Friedan is best known for writing the book The Feminine Mystique, which encourages women to seek more opportunities for themselves outside traditional home-based roles. She went on to co-found and become president of the National Organization for Women.

In 1968, Chisholm made history when she became the first Black woman to be elected into Congress. The Brooklyn-born activist and political leader later entered the 1975 Democratic presidential race—the first woman and the first Black American to do so.

When she joined forces with the popular band Sonora Matancera in 1950, Cruz had no idea that she would become the voice of a nation; throughout the '60s, the "Queen of Salsa" became one of the most prolific musicians in Latin America. At the same time, Cruz championed the cause of her fellow Cubans during the regime of Fidel Castro, speaking out against the violence of his government.

Maya Angelou was a poet, singer, and civil rights activist whose 1969 autobiography I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings made literary history as the first nonfiction bestseller by an African American woman. During her life, she wrote over 36 books, including several collections of poetry, and recited one of her poems at President Bill Clinton's 1993 inaugural ceremony.

Serena Williams might be the most famous tennis player on Earth, but she might not have gotten her start if not for the persistence of Althea Gibson. In 1951, Gibson made her historic debut as the first African American woman to play at Wimbledon.

In 1981, O'Connor became the first woman appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court. O'Connor was nominated by President Ronald Reagan, and the senate vote to appoint her was unanimous. She was a key swing vote in upholding big cases like Roe v. Wade at various points.

Writer and professor Toni Morrison shot into the national spotlight after the release of her first novel The Bluest Eye in 1970. From then on, Morrison was committed to telling stories about Black lives through poetic and intimate prose, winning the National Book Critics Circle Award in 1977 for Song of Solomon and the Pulitzer Prize for Beloved in 1988. After the third novel in the Beloved trilogy was published, she became the first Black woman to win the 1993 Nobel Prize in Literature.

After starring in the 1961 film adaptation of West Side Story, Moreno rocketed into superstardom, going on to work in Hollywood and on Broadway in numerous roles. Today, she is still the only Latino to earn the coveted EGOT (which means she's won an Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar, and a Tony).

The actress—formerly known for her scandalous love affairs—started the Elizabeth Taylor HIV/AIDS Foundation in 1991 after her close friend, Rock Hudson, died from the disease. The foundation lends support to those who are sick and funds research for more advanced treatments. Taylor was a pioneer at a time when many celebrities and most politicians were not talking about the AIDS crisis.

Nicknamed "Mama Africa," Makeba is renowned throughout South Africa and the rest of the continent for her endless activism. She used her global platform as a singer-songwriter to speak against apartheid in the '70s and '80s, calling attention to the plight of black South Africans through her music.

As the second woman to serve on the U.S. Supreme Court, Ruth Bader Ginsburg was a pioneer for women's rights and gender equality. During her time serving in the highest court of the country, she made many landmark decisions, including 1996's United States v. Virginia, which held the Virginia Military Institute could not refuse to admit women.

Goodall began studying chimpanzees in the Gombe Stream National Park of Tanzania in 1960, and her extensive research (which has spanned almost 60 years) has provided some of the most groundbreaking insight into the minds and social lives of our closest relatives, chimpanzees. The primatologist and anthropologist went on to found the Jane Goodall Institute in 1977, as well as the Roots and Shoots program in 1991, as an effort to encourage wildlife conservation efforts.

Gloria Steinem may be one of the world's most outspoken activists in the women's liberation movement. Over the years, she's led marches, spoken at rallies, written several books, and helped to form both New York and Ms. magazines. Today, she's still a fierce defender of social justice and was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom for her efforts in 2013.

Albright became the first female secretary of state when, in 1996, President Clinton, selected her to represent the United States in foreign affairs. An advocate for human rights, she fought to prevent the expansion of nuclear weapons and broker peace in the Middle East.

Through her Green Belt Movement, environmentalist and human’s rights activist Wangari Maathai assisted women’s groups in planting more than 20 million trees in her native Kenya. She was the first woman in East and Central Africa to earn a doctorate degree. In 2004, she became the first Black African woman to win a Nobel Prize for her “contribution to sustainable development, democracy and peace.”

Memphis-born and Detroit-raised, Franklin was destined to be a legend. She got her start singing gospel music but made her name in soul with songs like "Chain of Fools," "Rock Steady," and the iconic anthem "Respect." In 1987, she was the first woman ever to be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

Known for her progressive politics and work to abolish prisons, scholar and activist Angela Davis has been at the forefront of leftist causes–including the feminist movement, the Black Panther Party, and the anti-war effort–for over half a century. In 1970, the state of California prosecuted and wrongfully imprisoned Davis for three capital felonies, including conspiracy to murder, after an armed standoff occurred in a Marin County courtroom. She was released over a year later, in 1972. Undaunted, she continues to advocate for civil rights, gender equity, and prison abolition.

You may know Dolly Parton as the glamorous, quick-whited country singer, but she's also a huge philanthropist. In 1955, she created the Imagination Library, a program that gifts free books to kids under 5 to foster a love of reading at a young age. She's also donated $1 million toward the research behind Moderna's COVID-19 vaccine and another $1 million to the Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital in honor of her niece, who was treated for leukemia at that hospital.

After her tenure as First Lady, Hillary Clinton was elected to the U.S. Senate in 2000. She went on to serve as Secretary of State under Barack Obama and, in 2016, became the first woman in U.S. history to be the presidential nominee of a major political party.

As a best-selling science-fiction author, Butler pioneered the Afrofuturism movement and made several predictions for the near future that have since come to life. (There’s a reason her Parable series became a must-read in the late 2010s.) She received several accolades during her career, including a MacArthur “Genius Grant” and multiple Hugo and Nebula awards for her works, including Bloodchild and Parable of the Talents.

Streep has now broken her own record for most acting Oscar nominations—21 to be exact. Her first nomination was for 1978's The Deer Hunter, but she didn't end up winning an Oscar until 1980 for her performance in Kramer vs. Kramer.

Bigelow became the first woman to win the Academy Award for Best Director for her film The Hurt Locker, which also won Best Picture in 2009, making it the first film by a woman director to win that honor.

Ride became the first American woman to travel to space on the shuttle Challenger in 1983. The astrophysicist and Stanford-grad beat out at least 1,000 other applicants for a spot in the NASA astronaut program.

Tan is the author of The Joy Luck Club, which “explored the relationship between Chinese women and their Chinese-American daughters.” It was the longest-running title on The New York Times Best Seller list in 1989. The novel has been translated into 25 different languages since it was first published.

Bhutto became the first woman prime minister of Pakistan in 1988. After a military coup overthrew her father's government, she inherited leadership of the Pakistan People's Party . She pushed for open elections, and won, just three months after giving birth.

Winfrey started out as a Nashville reporter in the '70s before she was offered her own 30-minute talk show on a Chicago station. The Oprah Winfrey Show went national in 1986. By 2003 she'd earned the title of first female African American billionaire.

Justice Sotomayer was appointed to the United States Supreme Court in 2009 by President Barack Obama, making her the first ever Hispanic woman to serve on the highest court in the land.

Jemison was the first African American woman to be accepted into NASA’s astronaut program. She went on to become the first African American woman to fly into space in 1992 aboard the Endeavour.

Best known as “the people’s princess,” the Princess of Wales was a style icon and dedicated philanthropist who advocated for charities helping children, the unhoused, and the elderly. She also used her public platform to raise international awareness for humanitarian causes, including landmines and the HIV/AIDS crisis.

On January 20, 2021, Kamala Harris became the first woman and the first African American and South Asian person to become the Vice President of the United States. But she's pretty used to breaking glass ceilings; after her successful bid for California Attorney General, she became the first woman and person of color to hold the position.

In 2017, Duckworth became the first Thai-American woman and the first female amputee to be elected to Congress. Just one year into her term, Duckworth fought for a resolution allowing infants into the chamber room, ensuring that new parents in the Senate wouldn't have to miss out on any votes because of their newborns.

Often referred to as the "female Michael Jordan," Swoopes is a certified basketball legend. As one of the first women to be signed into the WNBA, Swoopes paved the way for the greats that would follow her, but she made sure to set the bar high—throughout her career, Swoopes has won three Olympic gold medals, is a three-time WNBA MVP, and tops every WNBA player list that has ever existed.

In 2014, actress and activist Laverne Cox became the first openly transgender person to be nominated for a Primetime Emmy in an acting category for her role in the Netflix series Orange is the New Black. She took home a Daytime Emmy for Outstanding Special Class Series for her film Laverne Cox Presents: The T Word in 2015, making history as the first openly transgender woman to win the award. When she's not acting, she's advocating on behalf of transgender rights and equality.

DuVernay was the first female African American director to earn a Golden Globe nomination and have a film nominated for an Oscar for Best Picture, both for Selma. She also directed the hit Netflix miniseries When They See Us, the story of the wrongfully convicted Central Park Five, among other projects.

The Kenyan long-distance runner became the first African American woman to win the N.Y.C. Marathon in 1994. According to the Wall Street Journal, "Since Loroupe's victory, Kenyan women have won five of the intervening New York marathons and now own six world records in distance running." She has her own peace and humanitarian foundation called the Tegla Loroupe Peace Foundation.

In one of the most competitive eras of figure skating, Kwan's star shone brightly among the likes of Tara Lipinski and Sasha Cohen. From the time that she first took up skating at age 8 to her final run on the ice, Kwan has always been on top; to this day, she is the most decorated figure skater in American history, with two Olympic medals and five World championship titles.

Yousafzai survived a gunshot wound to the face by the Taliban and has since become a spokesperson for human rights, education, and women’s rights. In 2014, she was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

Since stepping into the limelight at the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio de Janeiro as a member of the "Fab Five," Biles has been shattering gymnastics records day by day. In addition to being a six-time World All-Around Champion, she already has two gymnastics skills named after her (the Biles on floor and the Biles on vault).

Over the past year, we humans have had our lives upended as we try to ward off the unknowns of the novel coronavirus. It’s devastated our physical health—at the time of publication, the number of American lives lost was 500,000 and counting—and exacerbated our mental-health crisis. In fact, the American Psychological Association reported that 71 percent of Americans believe we are living through the lowest point in United States history that they could remember.

Despite the difficulties we’ve faced, there has been at least one redeeming factor: Our society has reconsidered the bravery and perseverance of frontline health-care workers and their daily fight to keep our bodies thriving. Now it’s time to celebrate the ones giving relief to our spirits—the reproductive justice warriors, end-of-life planners, mutual aid facilitators, and more, dedicated to making 2021 less stressful and healthier for all Americans. That’s why this year Marie Claire is putting the changemakers who are bridging the gap between health and hope front and center.

Equity Champions

Dr. Oni Blackstock, founder and executive director of Health Justice, and Dr. Uché Blackstock, founder and CEO of Advancing Health Equity, New York City

Doctors and twins Oni and Uché Blackstock share more than just DNA; they both have the distinction of being leading voices in the fight for racial equity in health care. Inspired by their late mother’s work as a nephrologist and her eventual battle with leukemia, the Blackstock twins charted their own paths in the field.

Oni found a calling in examining the social determinants and systems of oppression that impact people’s health, most notably HIV/AIDS. This led to an appointment as assistant commissioner of the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene in 2018. While there, she spearheaded the effort to create guidance for providers on mental health, substance use, and depression in the midst of the pandemic, including disseminat[ing] guidance about the intersection of COVID-19 and HIV, as well as a “Safer Sex and COVID-19” guide that went viral. “We were getting lots of questions from community members about how to continue to have safer sex,” Oni says.

Coinciding with the calls to combat racism inspired by the police killing of George Floyd, Oni exited her health-department post in July to found Health Justice, an initiative focused on helping the health-care industry and public health organizations combat cyclical injustice and reduce health inequities.

Uché has similarly been on a crusade to address social determinants for health. Her initiative, Advancing Health Equity, founded in 2019, advises health-care organizations on how to eradicate racism and bias in their work. In June, Uché, an emergency medicine physician, was called to testify in front of the U.S. House of Representatives Select Subcommittee on the Coronavirus Crisis. She urged political leaders to address the “racist policies of economic institutions that have left Black lives devalued,” and believes that last summer’s racial injustice awakening could be a turning point.

“There are many [health-care organizations] that want to change, but we need to make sure we continue to hold them accountable,” Uché says. “We need to make sure that they are creating environments where Black people can receive the best care possible.”

Self-Determination Supporters

The Fireweed Collective, nationwide mental-health education and mutual-aid group

The Fireweed Collective is the phoenix that, in 2020, rose from the ashes of the Icarus Project, a long-running mental-health community that shuttered after “grievances about an organizational culture that harmed” marginalized folks, according to its website. Fireweed repurposed the best of the former project—a commitment to helping people with mental-health issues—and added a lens focusing on the very communities that were deprioritized previously.

“We’re making spaces for people to create relationships with each other and come to a better relationship with their own mental health and the people around them,” says Antoinette Chen See, a member of Fireweed’s education team.

Fireweed’s core programming includes weekly support groups for low-income people, immigrants, and new parents, among others; monthly dance parties; and webinars.

One of the latter, hosted by collective member Elliott Fukui, “illustrated how prison and psychiatric abolition are intrinsically tied.” For Chen See, it was one of the most impactful and memorable thus far.

Bolstering Fukui’s argument is research published in the journal BMC Public Health showing that mental illness is two to four times more common in jails and prisons than in the general population. In a time of calls for prison abolition and defunding police (who are often the first interveners during a mental-health crisis), the political education and healing justice philosophy used by Fireweed is essential for its community.

“We’re looking forward to seeing the ways people implement healing and disability justice into their daily lives and [are hopeful] that they understand that we don’t have to go back to [how it was before the pandemic]: the misinformation, isolation, and individualism that is so tied to white supremacy, imperialism, and capitalism,” Chen See says. “We’re looking forward to people understanding that we can rely on each other and that we are all brilliant and intelligent and the best people to decide what we need and want in any moment.”

Disability Disseminator

Alice Wong, founder of the Disability Visibility Project, San Francisco

When disability activist and media maker Alice Wong launched the Disability Visibility Project (DVP) in 2014, it was set to be a year-long partnership with StoryCorps, recording the oral histories of people with disabilities. The project has since evolved into a media powerhouse: Next month, the DVP podcast will reach 100 episodes. In June 2020, Wong released “Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories From the Twenty-First Century,” her second essay anthology. With that volume under her belt, she estimates that the initiative has elevated 500 stories since its inception. Also last year, she was honored with the inaugural Disability Futures Fellowship, an 18-month program from the Ford Foundation and the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation to “spotlight the work of disabled creatives across disciplines and geography and amplify their voices individually and collectively.”

Through her activism, Wong is ensuring that the ethos of the project sprawls beyond its contours. A few months ago, she developed the hashtag #HighRiskCA to draw attention to the fact that California’s COVID-19 vaccination plan deprioritized people with disabilities. The discussions she inspired went viral, leading to the creation of sister hashtags in other states.

Wong is grateful that people are beginning to understand why amplifying stories in different formats expands accessibility. “We live in a time when there’s so much brightness and creativity out there and I get to share that with the wider world and hopefully nurture it and support it,” she says. “It is an honor to be able to do this in different mediums, whether a book, a podcast, or a blog. We have to do that. We can’t narrow ourselves too much.”

Harm Healers

Trans Lifeline, first national transgender crisis hotline, Oakland, California

For years, suicide has been one of the greatest issues plaguing the transgender community. According to the Trevor Project’s 2020 National Survey on LGBTQ Youth Mental Health, more than half of transgender and nonbinary youth had seriously considered suicide in the year prior. The staff of Trans Lifeline—launched in 2014 and led now by executive director Rev. Elena Rose Vera—witnessed this crisis firsthand, answering 31 percent more calls about suicidal ideation in 2020 than in 2019. Callers were sharing increased anxiety and despondency due to the postponement and cancellation of gender-affirming procedures and the intense dysphoria that comes with staying at home with non-affirming loved ones, explains Vera.

While still focused on ending self-harm among this population, Trans Lifeline has expanded its mission to provide “connection, economic security, and care for trans people, free of prisons, police, and involuntary hospitalization.” Last year, the group created a Spanish-language extension and instituted an equity policy to ensure that BIPOC are prioritized in their microgrant disbursement process. By the end of 2020, Trans Lifeline raised more than $3 million, and earlier this year they launched dedicated services and volunteer training to tackle the increase in domestic and intimate-partner violence that has resulted from the implementation of stay-at-home orders.

“When the pandemic hit, we weren’t sure how people were going to respond. But they signed up in greater numbers than before to volunteer on our hotline and offer peer support,” says Vera. “We saw people come together to find new ways of funding trans people who needed critical support. It’s been really powerful and humbling.”

Death Defender

Alua Arthur, death doula and founder of Going With Grace, Los Angeles

At the start of the pandemic, Alua Arthur found herself in a unique position to support those planning their own death or the deaths of loved ones: In 2013, her brother-in-law received a terminal diagnosis of Burkitt lymphoma; Arthur cared for him. That led her to start Going With Grace, a comprehensive end-of-life planning and support, as well as death doula training practice.

As stories about people receiving inadequate care and dying alone proliferated last year, more sought out consultations from Arthur than ever before. Arthur believes that in this moment there’s an opportunity for the public to transform its thoughts on death. “You are going to die and no amount of distracting, pretending, or buying stuff is going to make that go away. Not thinking about it doesn’t mean it’s not coming,” She says. “There are great benefits to thinking about [death] while we’re still living.”

The People’s Philanthropy

For the Gworls, mutual-aid fund, New York City

For the Gworls (FTG) cofounder Asanni Armon describes the initiative’s inception as a “divine alignment” with her friend Maahd, an artist and DJ. Launched in 2019, FTG began as a humble rent fundraising party for two friends facing eviction. The event’s success inspired the duo to continue the effort monthly for Black transgender people, covering rent, gender-affirming surgeries, and other medical expenses.

When the pandemic hit, FTG moved its work to the digital sphere, creating a donation site and application process. Within a few months, the collective’s Instagram gained tens of thousands more followers, expanding its reach beyond the States; it has sent aid to folks in the United Kingdom, Spain, Jamaica, Nigeria, and Uganda.

Armon notes that their success didn’t come without its difficulties. “It was a challenge to read all of these traumatic stories about people experiencing loss,” she says. “People have been conditioned to think that the more you pour your heart out, the more somebody will be willing to help you. FTG actively rejects that. I trust that if you are coming to ask us for help and you are a Black trans person, you are doing it because you need it.”

While they grind hard to aid their community, the collective is growing (they hit $1 million distributed and have hired two new staffers) and dreaming of a grand return to IRL events soon.

Mind Nourisher

Rachel Cargle, founder of the Loveland Foundation, New York City

At the 2017 Women’s March, a photograph of Rachel Cargle holding a protest sign declaring, “If you don’t fight for all women you fight for no women” catapulted her to social-media fame. A year later, after leaving a therapy appointment, Cargle was inspired to use her digital soapbox to lift up even more women.

“I was just so grateful for that session that I’d had. It lessened my stress about work, and I gained clarity and language around things,” she recalls. “I have such a clear memory of thinking, Every single Black woman deserves this. I ducked into a Starbucks and I created a GoFundMe.”

Cargle’s quick crowdfunding of $250,000 laid the groundwork for the Loveland Foundation, a national organization dedicated to helping Black women and girls access therapy. Her effort came the same year that the Office of Minority Health reported that suicide was the second-leading cause of death for African Americans in the 15-to-24 age group.

As collective trauma regarding the pandemic and racial injustice have dominated headlines, Loveland reached the milestone of microgranting enough funds to cover more than 20,000 hours of therapy. Due to the increased attention, the foundation now has a rolling wait list. Cargle is heartened to know that so many are benefiting from the foundation’s efforts. “I don’t know all these people,” she says. “I will never meet the majority of them, but I do have hope knowing that there are several Black women walking around the world right now feeling a little more empowered, grounded, self-aware, and understood.”

Boundary Builder

Nedra Glover Tawwab, therapist, relationship expert, and author, Charlotte, North Carolina

Relationships take work; therapist Nedra Glover Tawwab isn’t interested in running away from that fact. The founder of Kaleidoscope Counseling is quick to name boundary setting as one of the most important aspects of healthy connections. She also sees it as a survival aid in this time of immense isolation.

“People think that boundaries are just about saying no,” Tawwab says, “but it’s much more than that, especially with the rise of technology and social media. Boundary setting is a really important way to empower yourself and own what is OK and what is not OK in relationships and various areas of your life.” Her essential elements of boundary establishment include protecting your core values, feeling less guilt around declining opportunities, and clearly communicating needs and wants, lessons fleshed out in her new book, Set Boundaries, Find Peace: A Guide to Reclaiming Yourself.

“So often social media gets a bad rap, but I wanted to create a space where people can learn more about their mental health, whether they are in therapy or not, because everyone will not go to therapy, but they can have the tools and should have them for free,” Tawwab says of the mantras and exercises she regularly posts on her Instagram, a welcome digital safe haven within striking distance of 1 million followers. “It’s a huge accomplishment to be able to touch so many people all over the world.”

Reproductive Warriors

SisterSong, reproductive justice collective, Atlanta

There would be no reproductive justice movement without SisterSong, the vanguard organization fighting for the reproductive lives of those on the margins. In fact, Loretta Ross, the first national coordinator for SisterSong, was among the collective of Black women who coined the term in the 1990s. Now, with Monica Simpson as executive director, SisterSong continues to live up to its pioneering reputation. Last summer, it won a major victory for abortion care access as the lead plaintiff in a lawsuit against Georgia governor Brian Kemp; thanks to the challenge by SisterSong and the ACLU, among others, a federal judge ruled that the legislation at the case’s center—a heartbeat ban passed in 2019—was unconstitutional. “We changed the game and hopefully set the stage for more advocacy groups to be able to hold their elected officials accountable,” Simpson says.

SisterSong’s evolution deepened when it began to formally incorporate direct service into its core work last year. In May, the organization launched the Birth Justice Care Fund to support pregnant, laboring, and postpartum people of color struggling during the pandemic. So far, it has disseminated more than $99,000 to families.

Even with the recent changes and successes, Simpson urges reproductive justice (RJ) strivers not to rest on the laurels of a few wins. She nods to the major planks of RJ work, like expanding holistic sexual education, ending the stigma and barriers impeding abortion access, and reducing the maternal mortality rate of Black women who, along with American Indian and Alaska Native women, are two to three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white women.

“For a long time, we were in a reactionary space,” she says. “Now it’s about how we think about the world that we want to see, not just what we want to defeat or push back. That is going to require deeper investments, more people power, and getting them connected to [reproductive justice] issues so that we can really shape that future together.”

This story appears in the April 2021 issue of Marie Claire.

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It's no secret that the COVID-19 pandemic has hit women, especially women of color, particularly hard in many ways. And although vaccine distribution is looking up and case counts are going down, the present reality is still bleak for many women across the country. According to recent data by the National Women's Law Center, the total number of women who have left the labor force in the U.S. since the start of the pandemic reached more than 2.3 million in January; that means the women’s labor force participation rate–the percentage of adult women who are either working or looking for work—is 57 percent. While men have also, of course, been impacted by the pandemic, the rate of job loss for men is lower.

As Women's History Month gets underway, groups worldwide are pursuing initiatives to help get women back on their feet. One that's particularly exciting (easy to participate in): #2MillionMentorMinutes, a give-back initiative started by Dee Poku, founder and CEO of the WIE Suite, a platform and community for female leaders. The program, officially launching today, International Women's Day, invites women (and men!) to donate at least 60 minutes of their time in March to mentor and help women who recently lost their jobs or are looking to re-enter the job market. Because some of the hardest hit groups include BIPOC women, moms, caregivers, and new college grads, #2MillionMentorMinutes will have special focus on empowering them.

Poku's goal is that the program donates a total of 2 million minutes to women out of the workforce, representing the more than 2 million women who lost their jobs or had to leave their jobs in the last year. "This is such an isolating time for everyone and I know that in my toughest moments, being able to tap into my network for expert advice has proved invaluable," she told Marie Claire. "I’ve been as stunned as everyone else by the jobless numbers and as a community builder this felt like the best and most immediate way I could help."

Powerhouses who have already singed on to the program include founder and CEO of Girls Who Code, Reshma Saujani, co-founder of Black Lives Matter Opal Tometi, makeup titan Bobbi Brown, designer and founder of Female Founder Collective, Rebecca Minkoff, and more. The mentors will both be offering individual sessions, as well as group sessions.

For more info, check out the #2MillionMentorMinutes program on WIE's website. And, if you can spare just an hour of your time this month, sign up to be a mentor here. We promise, it will be worth it—we can only build back stronger if we build back together.

On Saturday, February 13, Genesis Women’s Shelter in Dallas lost power as a deadly winter storm descended on Texas. The electromagnetic locks on their buildings stopped working—locks meant to keep abusers out, meant to keep the 87 women and children living inside safe. These families had survived unimaginable violence and suffering, had taken the difficult step to leave their abusers in the midst of a pandemic, and now they couldn’t even lock their front doors.

The safe campus consists of a shelter offering temporary safety to women in an emergency situation, as well as a transitional housing unit with 18 individual apartments, Annie’s House, for those needing a place to live for up to a year.

After Genesis lost power, staff members passed out flashlights, batteries, blankets, coats, and mittens. Power would intermittently come on and then shut off again, leaving children as young as 3 months old without heat. By Tuesday, counselors had begun establishing safety plans with the women, determining a place they could go where their abusers wouldn’t think to look. But, for a woman to choose to go to a shelter in a pandemic, it often means they have no other option. Many of Genesis’ clients are of low socioeconomic status and can’t afford alternate housing. Genesis did what it could to place the majority of the women and children in safe places; five families were left hunkering down at the transitional housing unit.

Around 7:00 a.m. on Wednesday, Krista Fultz, the shelter’s director of education and advocacy, received a call from her director. One of the women at Annie’s House had called to say water was leaking into her apartment from the ceiling. Krista lived nearby and had grown up in Indiana, so she felt like she could manage the icy roads to get to the campus.

“When I got there, water was pouring out of both of the light fixtures in front of the double doors,” says Fultz. “The water on the ground was already freezing, slick and icy.”

Fultz called their maintenance worker, who was home sick with COVID. He sent her to the electrical room where she opened the door to find water gushing on to live electrical equipment—it was one of the rare times when the power was actually on. Fultz remembers being terrified as they used FaceTime to walk her through the water shut-off process.

The apartments were still actively flooding. With the fire alarm blaring, Fultz knocked on every door to evacuate the remaining residents. One woman answered the door holding a broom. She’d been trying to sweep the water out of her apartment as it spilled down.

The water had torn through some of the ceilings, leaving insulation exposed and ruining the survivors’ belongings. “Every apartment had water. I basically said, ‘Grab your important documents, things that are irreplaceable, and we need to get out of this building.’ ”

Fultz brought the families, about a dozen women and children, including a one-year-old baby, to the dining room of the now-empty shelter across campus. She put out breakfast, coffee, and hot cocoa, handing out board games and legos while calling coworkers to come help. Then, the power went out again.

The families—wet, cold, and traumatized—sat in masks and tried to social distance as much as possible.

Since the world is still in the midst of the pandemic, hard evidence quantifying the effects COVID-19 has had on domestic abuse is difficult to find. What experts do know is that events causing great stress, financial hardships, and people being locked down together lead to an increase in and greater intensity of domestic abuse incidents. Natural disasters often cause an uptick in domestic violence. Countries around the world have documented a spike in reports of domestic violence during COVID-19, leading the United Nations to refer to it as a “shadow pandemic.” Researcher Katerina Standish compared Google search results in the U.S. from March–August in 2019 and 2020: “How to hit a woman so no one knows,” was searched 163 million times during the pandemic, an increase of 31 percent. “He will kill me,” increased by 84 percent from 2019.

Beth Meeks works at the National Network to End Domestic Violence. She’s been responsible for helping domestic violence shelters across the country coordinate responses to the issues that arise with COVID-19. “In a number of locations we have seen an increase in services provided,” says Meeks. She’s heard anecdotal reports of abused women avoiding hospitals because they didn’t want to overwhelm the system. “They didn’t go to the ER until they were in a very dire situation,” she says. Last August, a hospital in Boston reported an increase in severe injuries to domestic violence victims, with more damage to deep internal organs.

One in three women experience intimate partner violence, and it disproportionately affects the most marginalized people, especially communities of color. The majority of the families evacuated from Genesis are BIPOC. Incidentally, COVID-19 has been particularly damaging to these groups as well. The intersectionality leaves survivors extremely vulnerable.

“A lot of our Black clients don’t feel comfortable calling the police,” says Fultz. She talks about undocumented clients who don’t have access to COVID-19 stimulus checks or unemployment. A common tactic of abusers is taking away a victim’s financial independence, so they aren’t able to leave.

In the past year, Genesis has been operating at complete capacity. The majority of their clients have been determined to be at “high risk of lethality” from their abuser and are coming from a situation of extreme violence.

Amber Nealy is the assistant director of clinical and professional services at Genesis. She says safety planning during COVID has been especially difficult, and her counselors must get very creative with individualized plans for their clients.

“Some women are not wanting to go into any shelter because of fear of getting the virus,” says Nealy. There are women who may have been planning to leave who had to put their plans on hold because of the extra financial and childcare barriers. There are children who can’t do Zoom counseling sessions because their father is home, listening. Nealy talks about a woman who, pre-pandemic, would lie to her spouse that she was going to do laundry and then come to Genesis for a counseling session. “Now she can’t, because the laundromat is closed,” says Nealy.

Advocates have put together Google documents with resources, including places with free WiFi, say a Lowe’s parking lot, where victims can go and safely sit and do a telehealth counseling session or submit a protective order. They give tips like, keep a Starbucks cup in your car so you can say you were getting coffee.

COVID itself is being used as a weapon of abuse. Nealy has had several clients whose abusers are COVID-deniers and prohibit them from using a face mask or hand sanitizer. Other abusers use being stuck at home as a way to watch their partner’s every move. Fultz recalls one abuser who rearranged his home office so that he could look out the front window. That way he could see when the postal worker arrived with his partner’s check, then deposit it himself and not let her have the funds.

The most perilous time for a survivor of domestic violence is when they are leaving their abuser. The 87 women and children who were evacuated due to the winter storm have all surmounted so many obstacles, including taking that most dangerous step. They did it in the midst of a pandemic. In the past year, four babies were born and taken home to Genesis. These women are survivors, in every sense of the word.

“They have been living in ongoing traumatic stress for long before we met them,” says Nealy. “These new traumas have compounded their previous trauma.”

Fultz adds that she’s heartbroken for the clients in the transitional housing units whose new homes are now unliveable. “Coming to transitional housing is giving them a bit of safety and security in a time of pandemic and fleeing from super abusive partners. That was all ripped out from under them in a matter of days.”

One such survivor is a refugee, who fled her home country with her family and then suffered physical and sexual abuse from her husband while in Texas. Fultz says that on Wednesday, the mother was holding one of her young children on her hip while packing their belongings. The ceiling in her apartment had collapsed and furniture was damaged. The Genesis staff had secured the family a hotel with the help of another organization, Family Gateway. The mother was nervous because she’d never driven in snow before; the staff tried to give her tips and show her on Google Maps how to get to the hotel.

Fultz brought the two school-age children with her to the shelter’s kitchen to fill up a bag of snacks for their trip. She said they were thrilled when she opened the pantry, expressing particular excitement for the Cheetos. Unprompted, they made sure to pick out chocolate that they knew their mom liked, in the hopes of helping her out.

As they were walking out, bag stuffed with snacks, the older sister turned to her sibling and said, “I’m really going to miss this place.”

“I wanted to yell out to her, ‘No, you’re going to come back! You’re going to be okay!’ ” says Fultz. “But I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

The Genesis staff has been working tirelessly, many of them without power themselves, to place their clients in safe spaces. This was the first time in their 35-year history that they had to close. Genesis CEO Jan Langbein said her biggest fear has been that a child talking to their father will accidentally mention a landmark they see from their hotel window. Langbein says besides her safety concerns, she has been comforted by how generous the community has been. “We’re going to fix it,” she says, confidently.

The shelter reopened on Saturday, Feb. 20, but the transitional housing units could be closed for months. For those looking to help, Genesis is accepting donations. Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, via their Archewell Foundation, have already pledged to replace the roof on the transitional housing unit.

If you or someone you know is being abused, you can seek anonymous, confidential help at the National Domestic Violence hotline: 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE).

This story has been updated to include the number of apartments at Annie's House.

In 2014, extremists of the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) tore through Northern Syria. They terrorized town after town, brutalizing women, leaving behind nothing but horror and destruction in their wake. They hadn't lost a battle. That is, until they reached the small town of Kobani, where the YPJ, an all-female Kurdish militia (some of whom were told as teenagers they couldn't go to school or marry who they wanted), played a key role in facing them head on—leading in battle and, remarkably, triumphed, defeating the men who enslaved women. The win in Kobani marked a crucial turning point in the fight against ISIS.

Best-selling author and adjunct senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations Gayle Tzemach Lemmon (The Dressmaker of Khair Khana; Ashley’s War) spent time on the ground with the women who stopped ISIS; her new book The Daughters of Kobani (Penguin Press, February 16) is the culmination of hundreds of hours of front-line interviews with the women who risked it all. Rigorously and respectfully reported, Lemmon's work chronicles the incredible story of this all-female force, and how their victory on the battlefield not only protected their people, but launched a new future for women everywhere. If you think the tale sounds like the plot of a TV show, you're right: Hillary Rodham Clinton and Chelsea Clinton's new production company HiddenLight Productions already nabbed the adaptation rights.

The book is a must-read for anyone who wants to better understand the Syrian conflict, feel inspired by women defying the odds to create change, or those who can appreciate courageous journalism. But don't take our word for it: Below, read the incredible introduction (exclusive to Marie Claire) of The Daughters of Kobani.

I made the trip to the Iraqi-Syrian border with some reluctance. I told myself that I had given up war—at least for a bit. I felt deeply guilty that I enjoyed the luxury of making that choice while so many I had met in the past decade and a half did not, but I was homebound and determined to stay that way.

I had spent years telling stories from and about war. My first book, The Dressmaker of Khair Khana, introduced readers to a teen‑ age girl whose living‑room business supported her family and families around her neighborhood under the Taliban. During years of desperation, it created hope. I came to love Afghanistan—the strength and resilience and courage that I saw all around me and that rarely reached Americans back home. I wanted readers to know the young women I met who risked their lives each day fighting for their future.

The Dressmaker of Khair Khana led to my next story, Ashley’s War, about a team of young soldiers recruited for an all‑female special operations team at a time when women were officially banned from ground combat. That book changed me, just as the first book had.

Once more, the upheaval of war created openings for women. I felt personally responsible for bringing this history to as many readers as I could, given the grit and the heart of the women I met in the reporting process and their valor on the battlefield in Afghanistan. The post‑9/11 conflicts had come to shape my life: I got married only a few days before heading to Afghanistan for the first round of research for Dressmaker. I found out I was pregnant with my first child while in Afghanistan two years later, when I was finishing the book. For Ashley’s War, I spent years not long after my second pregnancy immersed in the workings of the special operations community, and I was in constant touch with a Gold Star family forever changed by their daughter’s deployment. They taught me what Memorial Day actually means.

I felt deeply proud of the work. And I also felt emotionally spent, trying to make Americans care about faraway places and people that meant so much to me personally. I was tired of living two lives, the one at home and the one immersed in war, and I thought often of that moment in the film The Hurt Locker when you return full of fervor to persuade Americans to care about their conflicts and then wind up in the grocery store, looking at stacks of cereal boxes on the shelf, and realize no one back home even remembers these wars remain under way.

I would recharge for a bit, I decided. Tell a story about the community of single moms who raised me.

And then I received a phone call that changed everything.

“Gayle, you have to see what’s happening here. I’m not joking—it’s unbelievable,” Cassie said when I picked up her call from a number I did not recognize one afternoon in early 2016. She was a member of an Army special operations team deployed to northeastern Syria, where U.S.‑backed forces were fighting the extremists of the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria, or ISIS. This was her third deployment. She had served in Iraq in 2010 as a military police officer. Then she signed up to go to Afghanistan in 2011 as part of the Cultural Support Teams, serving alongside the Seventy‑ Fifth Ranger Regiment; she belonged to the all‑women’s team I chronicled in Ashley’s War. A few years after her Afghanistan tour, she joined Army Special Operations Forces, and that work led her to Syria and the ISIS fight.

Cassie told me that in Syria she had worked with women fighting ISIS on the front lines and that they had started a revolution for women’s rights. These women now were part of the U.S.’s partner force—the fighters the U.S. had aligned with to counter the Islamic State. These women followed the teachings of the jailed Turkish Kurdish leader Abdullah Ocalan, whose left‑leaning ideology of grassroots democracy insisted that women must be equal for society to truly be free. They belonged to a group called the YPJ, the Kurdish Women’s Protection Units. Cassie explained that they had been fighting for the Kurds since the beginning of the ISIS battle and well before. How they led men and women alike in the fight. How their members had blown themselves up when it looked as if ISIS fighters would capture them. How they faced none of the restrictions American women confronted when they went to war—no rules about which jobs were open to them and which remained off‑limits—and instead served as snipers and battlefield commanders and in a whole host of other frontline leadership roles. How they all shared the same messages and talking points about women’s equality and women’s rights, leading the Americans to consider them both incredibly effective leaders and ideological zealots. How they said women’s rights had to be achieved now, today; they would not wait until after the war ended to have their rights recognized. Most remarkable, Cassie said, was that they had the full respect of the men they served with in the YPG: the People’s Protection Units, which were the all‑male YPJ counterpart.

“Honestly, I’m kind of jealous of them,” Cassie said. “The men have no issue with them at all. It’s almost bizarre.

“Seriously, Gayle, these women have some incredible stories. You’ve gotta come.”

I thought about our conversation for days. It just didn’t make sense that the Middle East would be home to AK‑47‑wielding women driven to make women’s equality a reality—and that the Americans would be the ones backing them.

Syria’s civil war had begun as a peaceful protest by children at a school in 2011 and morphed into a humanitarian catastrophe that world leaders proved utterly impotent to resolve and to which regional and global powers sent proxies to fight. The Russians, the Qataris, the Iranians, the Turks, the Saudis, and the Americans— all played their roles in the history of this war. I had written about America’s tortured efforts to settle on a Syria policy back in 2013 and 2014 and about its ultimate decision to enter the ISIS fight without taking on the Syrian regime. I had traveled to Turkey on my own to interview Syrian refugees in 2015 and share their stories. The Syrian civil war by 2016 had turned from a democratic uprising to a locally led rebellion to a full‑throttle proxy war divid‑ ing those who supported the Syrian regime of Bashar al‑Assad (Russia and Iran, most notably) and those who did not (Turkey, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, to name a few). The Islamic State had taken advantage of the power vacuum and the broader civil war to make its name and take control of territory. But it was only one group in one part of the country: rebels of different stripes with differing ideologies controlled different sections of Syria. The Assad regime held the majority of the country, including the capital, Damascus, and by 2016 the second city, Aleppo, which by then the Russians had bombed into submission.

I knew far less about this all‑women’s force Cassie said I had to see. I had spotted some short pieces online and caught a CNN segment on TV, plus I saw a few photos on Twitter, which others immediately labeled “fakes” and “propaganda.” It was hard to separate the real from the fake without seeing it firsthand.

The story raised for me a whole series of questions: How had ISIS inadvertently forced the world to pay attention to an obscure militia launching a long shot of a Kurdish and women’s rights revolution in the Middle East? Does it take violence to stop violence against women? Is it possible that a far‑reaching experiment in women’s emancipation could take root on the ashes of ISIS, a group that placed women’s subjugation and enslavement right at the center of its worldview? Would real equality be possible only when women took up arms?

Geography made this particular war story even more personal. Part of my father’s family came from the Kurdish region of Iraq. He was born in Baghdad and spent his early childhood in Iraq. He became a refugee while still a child because of his religion. In fact, while traveling in northern Iraq and Syria, I carried with me a passport photo of my seven‑ or eight‑year‑old father sitting with his brothers and sisters. Alongside the picture is a stamp from the Iraqi government saying that the family had ten days to exit their own country and would never be permitted to return.

The region didn’t leave my father, even when he left it for the United States. As a girl growing up in Greenbelt, Maryland, I spent weekend afternoons with my father playing soccer and back‑ gammon, our fingernails turning red from snacking on pistachios whenever he paused his chain‑smoking of Marlboro Reds. He always found the notion of women’s equality confounding. When I was ten, my father turned to me during a heated discussion I’d started about why women in his family cooked for men and waited to eat dinner until after they served their husbands and sons. He asked me one question that expressed everything:

“Do you really think men and women are equal?”

His bafflement was entirely genuine. To him, and the society in which he and his siblings had been raised, the idea could not have sounded more absurd. So I could imagine what these young women Cassie told me about faced when it came to persuading their par‑ ents to let them pick up a weapon and head into war. What I still couldn’t imagine was how they had traveled from that mindset to this moment.

A few days later I picked up my phone and wrote to Cassie on WhatsApp. One year later, in the summer of 2017, I landed in northeastern Syria.

A young woman wearing olive‑green fatigues and a hat pulled down low to shield her from the August Raqqa sun stepped into the concrete courtyard where we had spent the past several hours waiting. To combat boredom while the afternoon stretched on, my colleagues and I there with the PBS NewsHour had climbed onto the rooftop of the abandoned house serving as a collection point for journalists hoping to witness firsthand the fight against ISIS. We had listened to the sound of gunfire and mortars targeting the Islamic State’s positions and taken turns guessing how close the front line came to where we stood. Sometimes our minders asked us to come down; they worried that our presence on the roof distracted those charged with protecting us and didn’t want to make more work for them. Otherwise, we sat around on plastic chairs in this makeshift press center in the 118‑degree heat, pleading with the Syrian forces to take us where no one with even a hint of good sense would go: the front line of the U.S.‑backed Syrian Democratic Forces’, or SDF’s, battle to retake the capital of the Islamic State.

The hat‑wearing young soldier walked toward the stoop where we sat and began speaking with one of the young men in uniform, who pointed in our direction. Sensing that our fate was the topic of discussion, our Syrian colleague, Kamiran, stepped over to join the conversation and began explaining in Kurmanci, a Kurdish dialect, that we had only today, that we really needed to get to the front line, and that we wanted the local commander running the battle to take us.

A few minutes later, the commander for whom we had waited all day at last arrived. The moment she strode through the metal gate of the house turned press pen, we all knew who she was. The rush of our male hosts to straighten the wrinkles out of their cam‑ ouflage uniforms, to stand up and outstretch their right arms to shake her hand, cemented my impression.

Klara wore a dark green, brown, and black camouflage uniform and light grey hiking boots with even lighter grey laces. Her un‑ tucked shirt draped past her waist and reached just about to the pockets of her pants, but there was nothing informal or sloppy about her. A forest‑green scarf with pink, red, and yellow flowers painted on its center and fringed tassels hanging from the edges covered her hair under the throbbing sun. She looked tan from all the days out fighting in the city’s streets. I kept noticing the dimple‑like cheek lines that appeared as she spoke. They seemed out of place somehow on a face that had weathered so much war.

She arrived late, she explained, because she had just visited the survivors of an ISIS car bomb attack against a family trying to flee the city that morning. Our team had heard the “boom” earlier, but we hadn’t known its source. Most who could flee Raqqa already had by this point, but some had stayed out of the fear of the snipers and land mines they would face while attempting to escape, not to mention the U.S.‑backed coalition airstrikes bombarding the city to force ISIS out of it. Some civilians didn’t want to leave their homes or couldn’t afford to give every last cent they had to smugglers, who earned their fortunes ferrying families from ISIS‑ held areas to liberated territory. Thousands already sat in the Au‑ gust heat waiting for the battle to end in a camp for the displaced in the town of Ain Issa.

Klara had gone to see the children who had survived the ISIS car bomb at a makeshift field hospital. Some of the kids had come out of the bombing unscathed. At least one of the parents had not been as lucky. After checking on the wounded, Klara had come to see us. Kamiran pleaded our case to her with a mix of charm and confidence, just as he had to her press office colleagues. I thought back on my earlier conversation with the SDF equivalent of a press representative, an Englishman.

“We aren’t taking anyone to the front line today,” he had said. “But what if Klara is willing to take us?” I asked.

“Well, then you can go; Klara is a commander,” he answered in a tone that made it sound as though I should know this already. Klara led, he served under her, and if she said we could go, we could go.

Now Klara listened to Kamiran argue our case and agreed to take us to the front line. We would see what it looked like to fight ISIS, block by block.

Half of our team climbed into Klara’s black HiLux pickup truck, the word toyota spelled out on its back in big white block letters. (The Taliban also loved this make of truck, as I learned in Afghanistan while writing Dressmaker.) As it turned out, the first soldier we had seen, wearing the same uniform as Klara and the same black digital watch on her right wrist, plus the hat shoved down over her eyebrows, was Klara’s driver. With her at the wheel, and Klara in the passenger seat, they set off. The only “armor” I could see protecting the pickup truck was a black scarf stretched out to cover the HiLux’s back window.

If this is what it means to be backed by the Americans, I thought as I climbed into our team minivan right behind them, I’d ask for better equipment.

Driven by our British security leader, Gary, we traversed a gut‑ ted moonscape free of people and blanketed by silence. I kept looking through the window at the carcasses of the houses we passed. Who lived in these homes, and when would they return? What did they see and survive under ISIS? And what would come next for them once Klara and her fellow fighters finished the battle?

We came to a small bridge and our car slowed to a near stop.

If you’re a sniper, it must look like a bull’s‑eye is painted on the roof of our minivan, I thought. If ISIS guys want to hit us, now would be the time.

I thought of Klara and the young women who served under her. They made this drive to the front line every single day; this was their commute to work. I wondered if over time the bridge lost its power to terrify. At a certain point in war, everything can become normal.

Ten minutes later—which felt like sixty—we arrived at our destination. This was as close to the front as the SDF would take us. Before us I spotted a burnt‑out truck. Just that day it had been used as a bomb. Grey‑black streaks of smoke still poured from its charred innards. This truck‑borne explosive clearly hadn’t gone off very long ago.

Klara strode around the truck, waving her right arm here and her left arm there, pointing out the location of the attack with an unfazed air, as if she were a tour guide at a museum. She spoke of the ISIS men targeting her teammates as if she knew them. I understood why: their interaction, their proximity and mutual understanding of one another’s tactics, fighting force versus fighting force, had begun three years earlier. Our team wore body armor on our heads and torsos while Klara walked around with no armor at all, her head covered only by her green scarf.

Klara agreed to let us visit some of her troops on the way back to the press pen. At the entrance to the soldiers’ base, a house gated by black wrought iron, we stopped our convoy. Sweat dripped from my helmet onto the once white oxford I wore beneath the body armor.

As I got out of the truck and prepared to meet Klara’s forces, I realized my mistake. None of the troops we had come to see were women. And they were not Kurdish. They were young Arab men who served under Klara and the other SDF commanders.

Klara stepped out of the car and shook the men’s hands, one by one, chatting with them as she went down the row and admonish‑ ing them not to smoke cigarettes in front of the camera. She asked them about the day’s fight, talked to them about what they had seen. Some of the young men sported bandanas around their fore‑ heads and ears to block their sweat and protect them from the heat. All of them looked exhausted. “Keep up the fight,” Klara said, offering encouragement and a flash of a dimpled smile as she left.

Fifteen minutes later, we landed at the temporary base where the young women who served under Klara stayed. The women, who ranged in age from eighteen or nineteen to forty, milled around, still in their camouflage after the day’s fight, but now lounging in stocking feet rather than standing at attention in hiking boots. They sat together in their shared living room, quietly puffing on cigarettes (the camera had been put away for the moment) and drinking cups of tea: an army of women with dark hair, black digital watches, side braids, and red‑and‑pink smiley‑face socks. In a corner of the darkened room near the doorway, their weapons stood at the ready.

When we spoke, they made clear that their ambition went well beyond this sliver of Syria: they wanted to serve as a model for the region’s future, with women’s liberation a crucial element of their quest for a locally led, communal, and democratic society where people from different backgrounds lived together. This story was not only a military campaign, I realized, but also a political one: without the military victories, the political experiment could not take hold. For the young women fighting, what mattered most was long‑term political and social change. That was why they’d signed up for this war and why they were willing to die for it. They believed beating ISIS counted as simply the first step toward defeat‑ ing a mentality that said women existed only as property and as objects with which men could do whatever they wanted. Raqqa was not their destination, but only one stop in their campaign to change women’s lives and society along with it.

I could not help thinking about the parallels between these women and their enemies—not, of course, in substance, but in their commitment and their ambition. ISIS shared the grandeur and the border‑crossing scope of the YPJ’s vision—in the exact opposite way. The Islamic State’s forces believed that their work would return society to the glories of the Islamic world of the seventh century. They invoked the idea of a “caliphate” ruled by a caliph, or representative of God, with centralized power and influence. The men belonging to this radical Islamist group, which trafficked in public displays of its interpretation of Sharia law, including whippings and maimings, believed that their efforts would write a new chapter not only for Syria and Iraq, but also for the entire Middle East and well beyond. ISIS placed the subjugation, enslavement, and sale of women right at the center of its ideology.

Every day, these two dueling visions of the future—and women’s roles in it—clashed in Raqqa, as they had across northeastern Syria for more than three years. The men who enslaved women faced off against the women who promised women’s emancipation and equality. Whose revolution would carry the day?

On the drive out of Raqqa that August night in 2017, our team silent in our minivan from a mixture of heat and fatigue and re‑ leased relief, I worked to stretch my imagination around what we had seen. Never had I encountered women more confident lead‑ ing people, more comfortable with power and less apologetic about running things.

Whatever ambivalence I felt at the outset, this story mattered. Its impact would be felt well beyond one conflict, even a war with as much consequence as the Syrian civil war. The story had found me. I knew by then that when that happens, when a story grabs you, digs into your imagination, and presents you with questions you simply cannot answer, you either embrace the inevitable and get to work reporting or store it away in your mind and know it will find you and haunt you and gnaw at you regardless. I chose to get to work.

Excerpted from THE DAUGHTERS OF KOBANI by Gayle Tzemach Lemmon, on sale from Penguin Press February 16, 2021

On this day in 1973, the Supreme Court issued its landmark abortion-rights decision, Roe v. Wade. It was the first time anywhere in the world that a court ruled that its constitution recognized a right to abortion, citing liberties guaranteed by the Fourteenth Amendment. In later cases, the Court would make clear that the ability to make this most intimate and personal decision is central to a woman’s dignity and to her equal participation in the social, economic, and political life of the nation.

Landmark rulings are never stand-alone affairs. Roe’s roots were grounded in Supreme Court decisions going back decades that protected a zone of personal decisions around family. In the years that followed, the Court extended its liberty holdings to wrap in LGBTQ+ rights, including the right to marriage equality and intimacy. Most Americans benefit from these rights without even realizing their connection to Roe.

And yet, not all of Roe’s progeny are cause for celebration. In subsequent cases, the Supreme Court allowed states to pile on onerous burdens to abortion care, leaving behind many people, including those who rely on federal health care programs like Medicaid.

Even as Roe stands, the burdens of abortion restrictions fall most heavily on people already facing multiple barriers to health care and other forms of discrimination, including BIPOC people, young people, immigrants, LGBTQ+ people, those in rural areas, and those working to make ends meet. The constitutional courts of other nations have called out the cruelty and discrimination of recognizing rights only for those with means. The Supreme Court of Nepal, for example, ruled more than a decade ago that the government must set up a fund to cover the cost of abortion for poor and rural women, and invest enough resources to meet the demand for abortion services and education.

Nevertheless, Roe has been a critical bulwark against the hundreds of state abortion bans and restrictions enacted in the past decade. Four years ago, the Court struck down a Texas law designed to shut down abortion clinics throughout the state. Just last summer, in June Medical Services v. Russo, the Supreme Court threw out a copycat Louisiana abortion restriction. In the close 5–4 ruling, Chief Justice Roberts voted to uphold precedent. And lower courts, again and again, have relied on the precedent of Roe to strike down the relentless restrictions that keep on coming, including bans on when, how, and for what reason a person can decide to end a pregnancy.

But the Supreme Court has changed composition since the June Medical decision, following the death of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg and the confirmation of Justice Amy Coney Barrett in her place. This capped a seismic shift in the federal courts during the Trump administration, with incredibly troubling implications for abortion. Justice Barrett’s academic writings, court decisions, and public advocacy reveal a legal view that the U.S. Constitution does not protect an individual’s personal liberty to make decisions about their reproductive health. The two other Trump appointees to the Court, Justice Brett Kavanaugh and Justice Neil Gorsuch, have already voted to uphold restrictions on abortion and contraception.

We now face a new Court—one with six of nine justices having already ruled against abortion rights—potentially altering years of progress.

Earlier this month, in the first abortion ruling since Justice Barrett was confirmed, the impact of this new math became obvious. Even while the Court itself hears arguments in its cases remotely from home, due to the COVID-19 pandemic, those six justices with a record of opposing abortion rights reinstated a callous and outdated FDA policy unnecessarily requiring people seeking medication abortion to travel to a health center to pick up the pills in person (rather than receiving them by mail). There are more abortion cases in the Court’s pipeline that could prove to be devastating to abortion access.

The new Supreme Court isn’t the only pending threat. A decade-long effort by anti-abortion state legislators has driven the passage of nearly 500 laws and restrictions intended to ban abortion out of existence. It’s working. More than 90 percent of U.S. counties are now without a single abortion provider; six states are down to their last abortion clinic. Across much of the South and Midwest, access to abortion is a right in theory only. And last year, elected officials in at least 10 states tried to exploit the COVID-19 pandemic to deny access to essential, time-sensitive abortion care.

The Center for Reproductive Rights’ state-by-state online tool, “What if Roe Fell,” puts into stark context what would happen if Roe were to be overturned or weakened: 24 states and three U.S. territories could swiftly move to ban abortion outright. Meaning, in nearly half the nation, abortion care would no longer be available.

Roe is in danger, and frankly, with its lack of protections, it was never enough. But there is a way forward: a federal legislative solution.

There’s no question Congress has a lot of important issues to tackle—the COVID-19 pandemic and the economic crisis, ongoing systemic racism, the future of the Affordable Care Act, and attacks on our democracy. But if we’ve learned anything from nearly half a century of Roe, it’s that equal access to abortion is central to a fair and just society.

That’s why the Center for Reproductive Rights is calling on the 117th Congress to pass bold federal legislation, starting with The Women’s Health Protection Act (WHPA), which would ensure that abortion care is free from medically unnecessary burdens and bans that impede access and shut down clinics. WHPA will protect access to abortion across the nation for everyone. We also need to pass the EACH Woman Act and repeal the discriminatory Hyde amendment, ensuring that a person’s economic circumstance will never be a barrier to abortion access.

Together, these actions will transform abortion rights and access. They will bring us closer to a world where every person can make their own decisions about their own pregnancy, free from political interference and discrimination, so we can move forward—not backwards.

Letitia “Tish” James has many firsts on her CV. When she was elected New York Attorney General in 2019, she became the first woman of color to hold statewide office and the first woman elected to that position in the Empire State. In 2013, as public advocate for the City of New York, she was the first woman of color to hold citywide office. As AG, she is busy on many fronts—she filed charges in August against the NRA for alleged financial misdeeds. In September, her office's motion compelled Eric Trump to testify in an investigation of the Trump Organization's finances. That same month, James reached a settlement with Dunkin' Brands, Inc. for failing to protect cyber-attacked consumers. James spoke to us about the rule of law, prosecuting powerful people, and #defundthepolice.

Marie Claire: Did you always want to go into public service?

Letitia James: I read a book called Simple Justice: The History of Brown v. Board of Education and Black America's Struggle for Equality by Richard Kluger. And I knew that I wanted to walk the halls where Thurgood Marshall and others walked when they were focusing on the Civil Rights Movement. Howard University [where I studied law] is the laboratory for the Civil Rights Movement, and I wanted to learn more about all of those who were involved in dismantling government-sponsored segregation in this country.

And as a teenager, my brother was falsely accused [of a crime] and my mom took me to criminal court in Brooklyn. I remember all the individuals who were in the pews in the courtroom were people who look like me. Everyone else in a position of power from the judge to the lawyers to the court officers [did not]. And I can recall an officer being very disrespectful to my mom and to others who simply asked [about their] loved ones. They were told, basically, to sit down and shut up. I vowed at that moment that I would never allow another mother, grandmother, father, or grandfather to be disrespected in that manner.

MC: You mentioned Thurgood Marshall and the civil rights pantheon. Who else was a role model for you?

LJ: [Representative] Barbara Jordan [(D, Texas)]. She was a member of the House Judiciary Committee and spoke at the impeachment hearings of Richard Nixon. I'll always recall when she gave a speech to the effect that she's not going to sit idly by and allow the constitution to be subverted. And that certainly applies today.

MC: You'd think we'd have the constitution a little bit more understood by now.

LJ: Well, you can't understand it if you don't read it.

MC: You probably meet a lot of young people. How are you feeling about their sense of social responsibility?

LJ: I'm uplifted by young people because all the change that has happened all throughout history was not something that was initiated by politicians, but by young people. So from the Civil Rights Movement to the Suffrage Movement, to thinking about all of those calling for democracy in foreign lands and the whole Barack Obama experiment—when I didn't even know his name, it was young people who educated me about Barack Obama. In fact, I endorsed Hillary Clinton [in 2008]. And I can recall the kids coming to my house and trying to convince me that I was on the wrong side of history. And then they marched. And then the night that he won, [in] my neighborhood in Brooklyn, the streets were filled with kids and young people celebrating the historic election.

MC: A young relative of mine who is a person of color posted on their Instagram: "There are no good cops." What do you think of that sort of vehement [reaction], where it seems very…

LJ: ...Us versus them? So, trust obviously has been broken. There's no question about it. And what we need to do at this point in time is heal the breach. And we need some fundamental reform. What we need to do is reevaluate the role of police in society. And so, no, I don't believe that all cops are bad. My sister is a detective. I've got a number of friends who are detectives. We've got a wonderful Brooklyn North [the PD in my neighborhood]. We've got some really great officers. They go from public housing to public housing, giving out gifts. They have a sleigh. The chief dresses up as Santa Claus. Thanksgiving, they give out turkeys. The police in Brooklyn North, they provide clothes to the homeless. They play basketball with the kids.

So, no, they're definitely not all bad. Just as we cannot generalize about any group of individuals, it's really critically important that we improve upon the police department and that we reevaluate their role. And what I mean by that is: The police take on a number of functions and jobs. And they're just not in a position to take on a number of the social problems that we are dealing with in society. And it's really unfair for the police to be responsible for addressing the problem of mental illness...what we need are mental health professionals and social workers. It's unfair for the police to [have to] respond to homelessness.

And unfortunately, in a lot of the cases, it results in tragedies. And so I just believe that what we need to do is democratize our police. Civilians need to have some sort of say with regards to policing. We need more collaboration and more conversation and more interaction and more understanding of the role of police and who they are actually policing. And we need a police force that is diverse and that reflects the communities that they are patrolling.

That [defund] hashtag, I don't know who came up with it, but it slipped up. It's more about reprioritizing the role of police. And that's really what we should be focusing on.

MC: It seems like on every front you're fighting a battle on some level, whether it's pharmaceutical companies, schools, Dunkin Donuts, or the NRA. How do you juggle so many issues on so many fronts?

LJ: I've got a great team—an amazing, professional team who are focused on the rule of law, justice, and equity. We've had to deal with the retrenchment of the federal government. We've had to deal with a number of pandemics, [including] the pandemic of COVID-19, and ensuring that all communities, particularly vulnerable and marginalized communities, have access to rapid testing and treatment and tracking. They were left behind. And so that was really all about advocacy.

And then we've got affirmative litigation where we're focusing on police departments and ensuring that they are focused on reforms. We've been focused on the opioid litigation that we're involved in and engaging in discussions with manufacturers and distributors and hopefully we can reach some sort of global settlement. We've focused on a wide range of issues from women's rights and reproductive rights to voter suppression. We've gotten to where we have to deal with the pandemic of environmental degradation and fighting back against this [Trump] administration that unfortunately does not believe in clean air, clean water, and protecting of the land that we all should enjoy. So it keeps me up and I am dedicated to it. I am enjoying it, but all the credit really should go to my team.

MC: What would you say to people who say that you have a biased political agenda against the Republicans or against Trump and his family?

LJ: I would say my office follows the facts and applies the law and we come to a conclusion. I'm not biased. I represent the state—all individuals, all citizens in the state of New York, whether you're Republican and or Democrat. That is my duty and that is the mission. And that is the sworn oath that I took. Often cases just fall in my lap and I follow the social media. And so in regards to the NRA, it was the testimony of one individual that was on the front page of every newspaper, which basically recounted conduct within the organization that was in violation of the not-for-profit law. I have a responsibility and a duty to investigate that. In regards to the Trump organization, again, it was Michael Cohen who testified before Congress and who indicated that, in fact, the Trump organization was engaging in financial improprieties.

I have a responsibility and a duty to investigate that, particularly if individuals are engaging in false claims or individuals are violating the tax code. Complaints come to me and I cannot ignore them. I've got to investigate them. And if they happen to be big names... no one is above the law.

MC: Do you feel that a woman's right to choose is in danger now with regards to the Supreme Court?

LJ: Yeah. So, may she rest in power and peace: The honorable and the Notorious RBG is a “she-ro” of mine, particularly in the area of women's rights and voting rights. In Shelby [County v. Holder], she wrote that biting dissent. She basically was someone who stood up on behalf of women. And so I am concerned about Roe v. Wade, but I refuse to accept that it's a fait accompli. I do know that with the Affordable Care Act, the general public rose up and they petitioned their government and the government backed down from basically dismantling and/or repealing the Affordable Care Act. And we need to do the same thing now.

MC: What do you think it means for women to see Kamala Harris where she is?

LJ: She is a former D.A., former attorney general, a United States Senator, and now the first African-American slash Asian vice president[-elect]—certainly she's breaking glass ceilings, as she has done before. And, as a proud graduate of Howard University, and as the second African American [state] attorney general after Kamala, we have a lot in common. Given her abilities to question individuals and her keen sense of speaking truth to power, she is well-suited to be our vice president. And I think what it says to young girls and young boys [is] that we can do it all and that there are no limitations. The only limitations are the limits that we place on ourselves.

MC: Do you see yourself running for even higher office at some point?

LJ: I am happy being the attorney general of the great state of New York. I wake up every single day with this fire in my belly: What can I do to improve the life of someone else? And this awesome office has enormous power. And I do not take it for granted that the role that I play and every decision that I make should be deliberate and should be done with as much advice and counsel and deliberation as possible. I'm honored to serve in this role. And I can't think beyond that.

MC: Why is gender discrimination something important to you? Is there any specific personal aspect to that?

LJ: I believe in equal pay for equal work and, as the former public advocate of the City of New York who passed the bill in New York City that led to a law across New York state that would ban salary history, I'm really proud of that. And the reason why it's so important to me [is] because I don't view it as a woman's issue. It's an economic development issue, it's a GDP issue. And so when you limit the ability of women to make as much as they're worth, then that affects the viability of families. And so there's the concept of the feminization of poverty; [it] is a real concept and a significant number of families who are headed by females are struggling and are impacted by this policy of paying women less than what a man is making for doing the same job.

So, I look at it clearly through the lens of trying to improve the outcome, the output, of the countless number of women who are struggling right now.

MC: What do you do for fun—if you ever do? Is there ever any time for fun?

LJ: My girlfriends—we talk, we laugh. Most of them are elected officials. Even though they tell me it's a security risk, I walk, anyway. And I just continue to stay close to my community and close to the ground and remember my humble beginnings and just know that I'm here to serve.

Welcome to #ReadWithMC—Marie Claire's virtual book club. It's nice to have you! In January, we're reading Danielle Evans's The Office of Historical Corrections, a collection of six mesmerizing short stories and a novella centered on race, grief, love, and identity. Read an excerpt from the book, below, then find out how to participate in our virtual book club here. (You really don't have to leave your couch!)

When Lyssa was seven, her mother took her to see the movie where the mermaid wants legs, and when it ended Lyssa shook her head and squinted at the prince and said, Why would she leave her family for that? which for years contributed to the prevailing belief that she was sentimental or softhearted, when in fact she just knew a bad trade when she saw one. The whole ocean for one man. Not that she knew much about the ocean; Lyssa had been born in a landlocked state, and at thirty it seemed the closest she might get to the sea was her job working the gift shop in the lobby of the Titanic. It was not a metaphor: it was an actual replica of the Titanic, with a mini museum on the lower level, though most of their business came from weddings and children’s birthday parties hosted on the upper decks.

The ship-shaped building was a creation of the late nineties, the pet project of an enterprising educational capitalist who wanted to build an attraction both rigorous in its attention to historical detail and visually stunning. To preserve history, he said to the public; to capitalize off of renewed interest in the disaster, he said to his investors. He had planned to build to scale, but that plan hadn’t survived initial cost estimates. They’d only ever had a quarter of the passenger rooms the actual Titanic had, and most of those rooms were now unfurnished and used as storage closets, their custom bed frames sold secondhand during the last recession.

At the end of the summer season, a second-tier pop star rented the whole structure for a music video shoot, shutting down normal operations for three full days. Lyssa had been planning on having the time off, but when the video’s director came to finalize the plans for the space, he’d stopped in front of the shop glass, stared for a minute, then walked in and said, “You—you’re perfect.”

She agreed to remain on-site for the filming and canceled the doctor’s appointment she’d already rescheduled twice, giving herself in her head the lecture she imagined the doctor would have if he answered his own phone. Her coworker Mackenzie sulked around the ship for the rest of the afternoon, flinging herself into the director’s line of vision without success. Mackenzie sometimes worked the gift shop counter with her, but only sometimes. Whenever there was a princess party, Mackenzie wore the costume dress and chaperoned as the princess-on-deck. Lyssa never worked parties; the one time anyone had bothered to give her an explanation for this (she hadn’t asked), it was a supervisor who mumbled something about historical accuracy, meaning no Black princesses.

“We’d hate for the six-year-olds having tea parties on the Titanic to get the wrong idea about history,” Lyssa said, so straight-faced that the supervisor failed to call her out for attitude.

“I guess they must want diversity,” Mackenzie said after the director left, using air quotes for diversity even though it was the literal word she meant.

The next day, and, as Mackenzie went, genuinely conciliatory: “Maybe he wants to fuck you? He was cute, in a New York way. I bet he thinks you’re exotic.”

Exotic, not so much: the theme of the music video was sea monsters; everyone in it, including the pop star and Lyssa, would be painted with green body paint and spritzed with shimmer and filmed through a Vaseline lens that would add to the illusion that they were underwater. The pop star didn’t want a ship; she wanted a shipwreck. Lyssa was just supposed to wear her regular uniform and work the counter and be herself in costume makeup.

Most of the real action took place on the upper decks. In two days of shooting, Lyssa only saw the pop star from a distance, through the glass, but a longtime backup dancer gossiped about her during a coffee break. The pop star dedicated this video to an ex who told a tabloid she’d let herself go and looked like a monster in recent photos. The video was about letting herself go, appearing on screen green and fat and nearly naked. The pop star was thinner than Lyssa had ever been in her life. Lyssa understood why she’d been picked and not Mackenzie; they needed someone in the store who could look like she knew what she was doing behind the counter. She was backdrop.

But the director did, apparently, also want to fuck her, though it seemed as much an afterthought as anything, the kind of whim that came to the kind of man who always wanted to fuck somebody. When they weren’t filming, the pop star and her assistant and her dancers traveled together like a swarm of fireflies, and the director and the tech crew and the hair and makeup artists were left to less glamorously fend for themselves. After they’d shut down for the second day, Lyssa’s last day of filming, the director appeared as she was locking up the store and asked if she wanted a drink.

“OK,” she said.

“I haven’t been here long enough to find a good bar, but I’ve got a great bottle of Scotch back at the hotel,” he said.

Lyssa saw the opening. She had been here all her life. She could tell him where a good bar was. She did not. In the hotel bathroom she scrubbed off the stubborn lingering bits of the green makeup and tried to look as respectable as a woman about to fuck a stranger could. When she came out, he had poured them drinks and didn’t seem to notice she was fully human colored again. She took a sip and put the drink down and he reached for her hand, turned her palm over, and began to trace something in it.

“Are you trying to tell my fortune?” she asked.

“I wasn’t,” he said. “But I have a lucky guess that you’re about to make a man very happy.”

It was so gross it was almost endearing.

The first time, they used the condom in the hotel’s romance kit, which consisted of a single condom and a package of after-dinner mints in a tin adorned with a rose sticker. The second time he pulled out, and the third time he didn’t.

“Was that OK? I mean I know I’m safe,” he said, a sentence that in her experience, men who were in any capacity actually safe never had to say out loud. “But are you on something?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” she said. “I don’t have ovaries.”

“Hmm?”

“My mom died of cancer. So they took mine out. To be safe. See the scar?”

She turned onto her back and pointed to the faint line across her abdomen.

“I’m sorry,” he said, placing a palm on her stomach.

“It’s fine,” she said.

“You don’t have to pretend it’s OK,” he said.

“We don’t have to be friends,” she said.

THE OFFICE OF HISTORICAL CORRECTIONS by Danielle Evans. 288pp. Riverhead Books. $27. Copyright 2020 © by Danielle Evans. Reprinted by permission.

If audio is more your thing, you can listen to the excerpt, below, and read the rest of the book on Audible.

Audio excerpted courtesy Penguin Random House Audio from The Office of Historical Corrections by Danielle Evans, narrated by a full cast. "Happily Ever After" narrated by Joniece Abbott-Pratt.

Yes, everything sucks right now and most of us are reading fiction to escape the current reality we're living in, but learning about someone else's reality technically counts as an escape too...right? The incredible new memoirs of 2020 range from life-changing (see: Glennon Doyle's Untamed) to juicy (yes, I'm talking about Jessica Simpson's Open Book), giving us an inside look into these authors' lives and sharing lessons that we can apply to our own. Take a deep breath, then dive into the best memoirs of the year, ahead.

Marcelo Hernandez Castillo gives readers an intimate look at what it's like to live as an undocumented immigrant in the United States, speaking truth to power about our country's broken system. 

Available January 28, 2020

This isn't your typical celebrity memoir. Jessica Simpson's Open Book is truly an open book, where Simpson discusses everything from her relationship with ex John Mayer to her marriage and divorce from Nick Lachey. 

Available February 4, 2020

R. Eric Thomas is one of the most hilarious writers around, further proven in his collection of heartfelt memoir-in-essays, Here for It: Or, How to Save Your Soul in America, about growing up as an outsider and discovering what self-acceptance truly means.

Available February 18, 2020

Rebecca Solnit, author of Men Explain Things to Me, shares her formation as a writer and feminist in 1980s San Francisco, where women were still far from being accepted into society. 

Available March 10, 2020

Bestselling author Glennon Doyle's Untamed is a beautiful memoir from the activist and speaker that explores lessons of identity, motherhood, family, and divorce. Do yourself a favor and order this one immediately.

Available March 10, 2020

Experience Alicia Keys like you never have before in her memoir, More Myself, which takes readers on a journey from the artist's days growing up in Hell's Kitchen and Harlem all the way to stardom as she grapples with acknowledging her self worth and letting go of perfection. 

Available March 31, 2020

Former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, who was the first female to hold the position, knew she could do anything she wanted when she left the office in 2001. Now, she's reflecting on her decades-long career in her new memoir, Hell and Other Destinations. 

Available April 14, 2020

After she was tragically hit by an ambulance at 17 years old, Ruthie Lindsey was given a five percent chance to live. She defied the odds and survived, but not without pain and heartache that has prompted her to eventually find joy again. 

Available April 21, 2020

Egyptian-American scientist Rana el Kaliouby was raised by one of the first female computer programmers in the Middle East and a father who valued tradition. Still, that didn't stop her from moving to America and pursuing her goal of bringing humanity—facial expressions, tone of voice, and body language—to technology. Girl Decoded chronicles Kaliouby's journey of founding a prominent software company, and learning about her own humanity along the way.

Available April 21, 2020

Phuc Tran's memoir, Sigh, Gone: A Misfit's Memoir of Great Books, Punk Rock, and the Fight to Fit In, is a refreshingly honest depiction of growing up an immigrant in a small Pennsylvania town and trying to feel less alone in the world. 

Available April 21, 2020

Hilarie Burton Morgan, best known as Peyton Sawyer in One Tree Hill, writes an honest depiction of how she transformed from actress to farmer in upstate New York, reconnecting to the land she grew up on while navigating motherhood. 

Available May 5, 2020

The Bella twins are back! In Incomparable, Brie and Nikki Bella reflect on their journey from becoming WWE stars to founding companies like Birdiebee, Nicole + Brizee Beauty, and Bonita Bonita Wine. 

Available May 5, 2020

People in the fashion industry couldn't wait to get their hands on André Leon Talley's memoir, The Chiffon Trenches, which chronicles the iconic Vogue fashion editor's decades-long career and his relationship with prominent figures like Anna Wintour, Andy Warhol, and Karl Lagerfeld. 

Available May 19, 2020

Stephanie Danler's Stray shares the heartbreaking story of the Sweetbitter author's life that ends up taking a turn when she's forced to return to Southern California. There she confronts her past and her relationships with her mother, who struggled with alcoholism and suffered a brain aneurysm, and her father, who abandoned her family when she was three.

Available May 19, 2020 

In This Is What America Looks Like, U.S. Representative Ilhan Omar documents her journey from fleeing Somalia to becoming one of the first Muslim women elected to congress in 2018. 

Available May 26, 2020

Meredith Talusan takes us through their life growing up as a boy in a rural Philippine village and later immigrating to the United States, where they transitioned to become a woman. In Talusan's powerful memoir, they navigate race, class, sexuality, and how they fit into it all. 

Available May 26, 2020

In her fiercely honest memoir, Susan Burton explores her relationship with food and how both anorexia and binge-eating shaped her life. 

Available June 23, 2020

As Marie Claire's Entertainment Director Maxwell Losgar perfectly puts it, Loni Love's writing is "written as someone who has long been wise beyond her years." Here, the actress/comedian/television host shares how she learned to embrace her flaws and take control of her destiny. 

Available June 23, 2020

Michele Harper, a female African-American emergency room physician working in a profession predominantly filled with white males, reflects on her journey of self-healing often found through her patients. 

Available July 7, 2020

Honestly? The award for the best memoir title goes to Colin Jost's A Very Punchable Face, where Jost tells behind-the-scenes stories about his days on the set of SNL...and pretty much everything else.

Available July 14, 2020 

Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Natasha Trethewey's Memorial Drive recounts her lived experience after her former stepfather shot and killed her mother when Trethewey was 19 years old, reflecting on how her loss led her to become the person she is today.

Available July 28, 2020

Writer and comedian Sara Schaefer's memoir, Grand, centers on a trip to the Grand Canyon with her family, which forces her to reflect on her childhood and the scandal that forever changed their lives.

Available August 11, 2020

Fans of country star Thomas Rhett and his wife Lauren Akins will love Akins's Live in Love, which gives readers a behind-the-scenes look at the couple's seemingly perfect relationship and how Akins lives a life of purpose. 

Available August 18, 2020

Chasten Buttigieg, husband to 2020 former Democratic presidential candidate Pete Buttigieg, opens up about his life growing up in rural Michigan and how he's healed after coming out to the world.

Available September 1, 2020

Toni Jensen's powerful memoir, Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land, demonstrates what it's like to live as an Indigenous person in America, subjected to gun violence, racism, and a cultural landscape that has yet to correct its historical injustices. 

Available September 8, 2020

In Everything Beautiful in Its Time, Jenna Bush Hager shares personal stories and lessons she's learned from both her maternal and paternal grandparents—the latter Americans know as former First Lady Barbara Bush and President George H. W. Bush. 

Available September 8, 2020

You may remember Jane Fonda, icon, getting arrested multiple times last year for hosting weekly climate change protests in front of the Capitol. Now, she's telling her story in her new memoir, What Can I Do? My Path from Climate Despair to Action, in hopes of inspiring all of us to pay attention to the most existential threat our planet faces. 

Available September 8, 2020

Award-winning journalist Maria Hinojosa chronicles the history of U.S. immigration policy while sharing her own experiences through her family and reporting over the years.  

Available September 15, 2020

Anybody who has tragically lost a loved one will find comfort in Parkland dad Fred Guttenberg's Find the Helpers, where he shares how he's found purpose after losing his 14-year-old daughter to gun violence and his brother to 9/11-induced pancreatic cancer within a span of four months. 

Available September 22, 2020

Introducing Mariah Carey's debut memoir, where the icon shares an unfiltered recollection of her life with the hopes that readers finally understand who she really is. Yes, it's as good as you think it will be.

Available September 29, 2020

While not a traditional memoir, Mindy Kaling's hilarious collection of essays, Nothing Like I Imagined (Except for Sometimes), is an e-book slash audio collection where the actress reflects on motherhood, the pros of being single, how she deals with anxiety, and more. 

Available October 6, 2020

It's Lenny Kravitz's new memoir. What else do you need to know?

Available October 6, 2020

Allow Matthew McConaughey to share the lessons he's learned throughout his life—the good, the bad, and the ugly—and teach us how we can all appreciate the little time we have on this Earth. 

Available October 20, 2020

In addition to being a World Cup champion, Megan Rapinoe is a fierce champion of equal pay and LGBTQ rights. In her memoir, One Life, she documents her fight for social justice and the path she's taken to get to where she is today. 

Available November 10, 2020

In the first of two volumes, POTUS 44 recounts the lows and highs during his years in office, both personally and professionally, all while emphasizing the importance of preserving our democracy amid the challenging times we’re living in. 

Available November 17, 2020

Do yourself a favor and order Cazzie David's No One Asked for This—a collection of essays that chronicles the comedian and actress' most chaotic moments, which happen to be extremely relatable. 

Available November 17, 2020

Michelle Buteau, who frequently made appearances on Phoebe Robinson and Jessica Williams' 2 Dope Queens podcast, recently released Survival of the Thickest—a collection of essays where the comedian and actress reflects on her life growing up "Caribbean, Catholic, and thick" in New Jersey, and essentially every life decision she's made after that. 

Available December 8, 2020 

Now that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris have won the 2020 election, Harris' Senate seat is left open. California governor Gavin Newsom will make the selection, and the person will serve until the end of Harris' term in 2022. Very shortly after Harris' initial VP announcement, speculation began about who might take on the role in the event that the seat becomes vacant—California is a diverse, influential state with progressive policies on issues like climate change and immigration. On top of that, Harris is only the second Black woman ever elected to the Senate. Thus, the selection will need to be nuanced, and there are many candidates to choose from in the state. What do we know so far?

California Governor Gavin Newsom selected Alex Padilla to fill Harris' Senate seat.

On December 22, the New York Times reported that Newsom had selected Padilla to serve the final two years Harris' Senate term. While many were disappointed that the seat wasn't filled by a Black woman, the pick still brings diversity to the Senate as Padilla will be the first Latino senator to represent the state of California.

Several people pitched themselves as Harris' Senate replacement.

Newsom, in a press conference, talked about the "historic" moment of Harris' nomination. He added that selecting a successor at that moment was "not what I’m focused on right now," referencing California's spiking COVID-19 cases mid-pandemic and the wildfires.

But when a reporter asked if anyone had come to Newsom hoping to be selected, he replied with a small laugh, "You may be the only one who hasn’t, unless you just did—and that is only a slight exaggeration."

So several candidates have already very likely pitched themselves, we can infer from that. According to the New York Times, there were already 24 names being discussed around the state capital even before Harris' announcement as VP.

Newsom's discussion of Harris starts at the 58-minute mark:

On Election Day, Newsom was asked again about choosing someone to replace Harris. He responded, "I mean, honestly, I'm not even exaggerating. There's a hundred chores that I'd prefer. I'm not kidding." Newsom continued, "This is not something that I wish even on my worst enemy, because you create enemies in this process you know, not just friends. And it's a vexing decision. It's a challenging one."

People have strong opinions on the pick.

Aimee Allison, founder and president of She the People, told The Guardian, "It seems early...But behind the scenes, conversations are already happening. And I don’t think it’s too soon to think about what the community wants, and what the state wants in a leader."

Allison also said that she hoped Harris wouldn't be replaced by a man. "It’s just a bad look...And after the protests inspired by George Floyd’s murder—to me it makes sense to have someone of color."

"[W]omen are not going to want to lose one of the few women in the Senate,” Democratic strategist Rose Kapolczynski told the New York Times.

A few names that have been discussed already:

• Attorney General Xavier Becerra: He replaced Harris as the California's top law enforcement official when Harris was elected to the U.S. Senate.
• Secretary of State Alex Padilla: He's a friend of Newsom when and would become the first Latino senator in the state's history.
• U.S. Representatives Karen Bass of Los Angeles: She was considered to be Biden's running mate and is the head of the Congressional Black Caucus.
• U.S. Representatives Barbara Lee of Oakland: She has represented her city in Congress since 1998 and was considered to be Biden's running mate.
• U.S. Representative Katie Porter of Irvine: She faced off with the CDC director over coronavirus testing back in March and the clip went viral.
• State Senate Pro Tem Toni Atkins of San Diego: She has the potential to be the state's first openly gate senator.
• U.S. Representative of Silicon Valley Ro Khanna: The Indian-American politician co-chaired Sanders' national campaign for president this year.
• Los Angeles Mayor Eric Garcetti: He's Jewish and Mexican American and co-chaired Biden's vice-presidential search committee.
• San Francisco Mayor London Breed: She's close friends with Harris and has refferred to her as a "Bay Area sister."
• Oakland Mayor Libby Schaaf: She's served her city since 2015.
• Long Beach Mayor Robert Garcia: He's the city's first openly gay mayor and Latino.

“The biggest problem that the governor will have is the embarrassment of riches,” Harris' former chief of staff Nathan Barankin said to The Guardian. “To choose between all these qualified candidates is going to be very difficult.”

On Friday evening, the Wall Street Journal published an op-ed criticizing First Lady-elect Dr. Jill Biden's use of the title "Dr." before her name, calling it "fraudulent, not to say a touch comic" because she isn't a medical doctor. To be clear, Dr. Biden earned her doctoral degree, as well as master's degrees—the author simply decided it wasn't up to his standards.

People expressed their anger and frustration on Twitter, calling the op-ed "a disgusting display of misogyny," as well as sexist and disrespectful. Today, Michelle Obama has something to say about it as well. On Monday morning, the former first lady posted a message on Instagram praising Dr. Biden's accomplishments and asking us, "Is this really the example we want to set for the next generation?"

Read her full response below:

"For eight years, I saw Dr. Jill Biden do what a lot of professional women do—successfully manage more than one responsibility at a time, from her teaching duties to her official obligations in the White House to her roles as a mother, wife, and friend. And right now, we’re all seeing what also happens to so many professional women, whether their titles are Dr., Ms., Mrs., or even First Lady: All too often, our accomplishments are met with skepticism, even derision. We’re doubted by those who choose the weakness of ridicule over the strength of respect. And yet somehow, their words can stick—after decades of work, we’re forced to prove ourselves all over again.

Is this really the example we want to set for the next generation?

Dr. Biden gives us a better example. And this is why I feel so strongly that we could not ask for a better First Lady. She will be a terrific role model not just for young girls but for all of us, wearing her accomplishments with grace, good humor, and yes, pride. I’m thrilled that the world will see what I have come to know—a brilliant woman who has distinguished herself in her profession and with the life she lives every day, always seeking to lift others up, rather than tearing them down."

Amen to that.

I’ve been an immigrant rights activist since 2010. I’ve organized protests against ICE detention centers, helped young folks secure DACA, and worked to provide undocumented immigrants with housing, legal, and financial help. I do this work to serve and lift up a community I am part of. Growing up undocumented (I received DACA in 2013), I know too well the struggle of needing support but having to hide in the shadows—in a system that relies on your work but fails to acknowledge you.

While the pandemic and the wildfires raged through California, where I live, this summer, I was devastated to see the suffering in my community. But I got the chance to become even more involved in my activist work. And it all started with a video.

One day my sister showed me a social media post of farm workers near Salinas, California, picking grapes at a vineyard. This region is often referred to as “America’s salad bowl” because of all the fruits and vegetables that are grown here. Behind them, a roaring wildfire was sending giant clouds of smoke into the sky. All they had were bandanas to protect them.

But they carried on with their work, almost like nothing was happening. Because most farm laborers are undocumented, working jobs with low wages and no benefits, they can’t afford to take a day off. These undocumented workers don’t get stimulus checks or unemployment, either. Despite a deadly pandemic and climate catastrophe, we rely on them to show up every day, rely on them to risk their own lives to feed us. They are America’s essential workers, too. And we’ve failed to show up for them.

Looking at that post was like looking in the mirror. When I was 15, I worked with my parents and sister picking grapes at various farms in Northern California. My days were often nine hours long and it wasn’t uncommon to end the shift dehydrated with muscle pains from craning my body to cut the fruit off the vines. We often worked when it was scorching hot. Any gear we needed, we had to get ourselves: gloves, hats, bandanas to protect from pesticide dust, even clippers to do the work. I never saw the money I made; it went straight to whatever my parents needed for our family: food, rent, clothes.

When I saw the video, it hurt. I ranted to my family all day about it. At one point, my sister said, “Look at you. You’re still talking about it!” The video sparked so much emotion in me, that I wanted to do something more than just share it on social media. I wanted to do something to turn all that anger into positive change.

Over the next few days, I went out to a few different fields and asked workers, “What can I do for you?” I was already thinking about getting them masks to help protect against the smoke and also the coronavirus, but I thought that maybe they would want money or gear like gloves.

Their response was totally different: They wanted backpacks and school supplies for their kids. When asked what could be done for their own protection, they put their health aside to pursue their kids’ education. Even when they had the chance to lift up their circumstances, they chose to—again—put another’s life ahead of their own.

I set up a GoFundMe page in August, with a goal set at $5,000. Within minutes, donations started pouring in. So far, it’s collected $200,000, and another $300,000 came in on Venmo. I was completely shocked at the outpouring of support and generosity, especially during a time when people’s finances might have been shaken by the pandemic.

Half of the money is going toward masks, and half is going toward educational tools, including basic supplies and internet hotspots. At the beginning, I was just showing up at a field with my partner or family to hand out supplies. The first day, the workers ran towards the backpacks, as though, instead of folders and pencils, they were filled with expensive laptops. That’s how much they needed the items inside. I was so moved by this that I ended up crying on the side of the field.

I decided to organize larger distributions all throughout Northern California. At each one, we’ve given out thousands of backpacks filled with notebooks, folders, markers, rulers, and pencils. We’re also signing up people for Internet hotspots from T-Mobile. Many students are still doing remote learning, but vast numbers of them don’t have access to the Internet.

So far, we’ve already given out 8,000 masks and 12,000 backpacks, and 110 families have signed up for hotspots. We plan on continuing until our funds run out. And we keep getting donations. Eventually, I want to set up locations where people could come at their convenience to get these supplies along with other resources they may need.

The pandemic upended my work life, but I feel like it was a blessing. In addition to my activist work, I also run an events company. Due to COVID, a lot of my events were canceled or postponed and that freed up some of my time. This was hard financially, but it allowed me to focus on serving my community. And this activism is my calling.

Because my family was undocumented, growing up I was always told to be in the shadows: Blend in, don’t get in trouble, don’t do anything different. Becoming a DACA recipient pushed me to become an activist and organize for the people who don’t have a voice or the power to enact change. I always tell Dreamers (people impacted by DACA) that we have to use our voice for our parents and friends who still live in fear. Because if not us, who? If not now, when? Farm workers are essential. It’s time to step up and serve them, like they’ve served us time and time again.

It happened over dinner. Or, maybe, it was many dinners.

Sydney Thomas, Sydney Sykes, Sarah Kunst, and Mercedes Bent definitely met for the first time at a dinner party. The question is, which dinner party was it? It could have been two—or even three. In pre-pandemic times, there were many, many dinners: Bent, now a partner at Lightspeed, a venture capital (VC) firm that has backed the likes of Snapchat, Daily Harvest, and Stitch Fix, remembers hosting one, near certain that’s where she first met Sykes and Thomas. Thomas, a Principle as Precursor Ventures, a seed and early-stage fund, recalls the dinner—but she says the two had actually been in contact before, a lunch that fell-through last minute. Kunst, founder of Cleo Capital, backer of female-founded brands like Love Wellness and Glow Bar, describes at least two different dinners, both with a guest list of Black women in VC. She reminisces on an intimate evening organized by Sykes, an angel investor and the co-founder of BLCK VC, a non-profit focused on doubling the representation of Black investors by 2024.

The memories of dinner parties may be faded, crisscrossed, or composited now, years later, but what’s clear is the community that grew out of them. One that hadn’t existed prior: a community of Black women in venture capital.

VC funds—companies that invest in other companies at some point in their launch or start-up stage— are generally staffed exactly how you would picture them to be: by old, suit-wearing white guys. According to Harvard Business Review, 65 percent of venture capital firms have no female partners, and 81 percent have no Black investors at any level. Less than 3 percent of professionals in venture capital are Black or Latinx; a 2016 study by Deloitte and the National Venture Capital Association found that just 3 percent of investment professionals overall are Black. Sykes' nonprofit BLCK VC also notes that only a small portion of that already tiny fraction are in positions of power, actually controlling the $100 billion+ invested annually in the U.S.

The lack of diversity in VC has a negative trickle down effect. As Kunst puts it: “We know that people tend to invest in people who look like them.” Only an estimated 1 percent of venture capitalists are Black women, an issue in its own right. And on the other side of the coin, the reality seems just as bleak: With few Black women in positions where they can invest, very few VC dollars go to Black women–founded companies. Though Black women–owned businesses are growing at rapid speeds (from 2014 to 2019, women of color–owned businesses grew at a rate of 50 percent; the number of startups founded by Black women more than doubled from 2016 to 2018) they are still majorly missing out on a piece of the pie. According to findings from a 2018 analysis, Black women-led startups have only received .06 percent of the $247.7 billion in total tech venture funding raised since 2009. Recent research has found that the third quarter of this year saw the lowest venture funding for female founders in three years.

In 2017, Thomas created and published a list of all the Black women she could think of in venture capital. “It essentially increased visibility to all the Black women in VC, because I realized nobody realized that there [were] actually more than three of us,” she says now. The list was a jumping off point for community—many catalogued ended up guests at those dinner parties. She even started a group for women of color in VC to meet up quarterly, a chance to connect and converse. “I think a lot of the Black people in VC felt this enormous pressure, myself included, to lead the way for the people in VC who are not Black and perhaps do not have Black communities,” she says.

She wasn't the only one trying to bring Black people in VC together to share experiences and ultimately, build better representation across the board: In 2018, Sykes co-founded BLCK VC, meant to create opportunity for a more inclusive VC community (specifically, help grow the number of Black investors from 2 percent to 4 percent of the venture industry by 2024). She, too, was hosting dinners, gathering groups, and helping colleagues build more diverse portfolios.

“I do think we build the community mostly on our own for ourselves,” says Bent, looking back. “It’s not because the rest of the industry isn’t supportive. I do think the rest of the industry is quite supportive, but I there’s a lot of value in building community and being with folks where you can just ‘let down your hair’ and describe some of that, share your stories to some of the frustrations.”

In 2019, Bent was the only woman who identified as African American to make partner at a VC firm, and she remains one of the few Black women to hold a senior role at traditional firm. “Many of the Black women partners have started their own firms or work at smaller firms. At [the] mega VC, top-tier level, there's really not any [Black women at the executive level]. I’m very used to being in spaces where I’m the only one. It’s been like that for me since childhood, honestly,” says Bent. When she found out about her newfound pseudo-celebrity status, she wasn’t shocked—when she started out in VC, she hadn’t seen too many Black women in higher roles. “I'm not terribly surprised,” she says. “And it doesn't faze me in terms of my ability to get things done. If anything, it pushes me to really try and change the industry. If you're going to be the first, don't be the last.”

Kunst is one of those people who decided to start her own firm: After stints in fashion and marketing, she bopped around the start-up space, and even started a company in the sports media space (raising money from organizations like the Los Angeles Dodgers), all while helping other venture funds realize how “deeply non-diverse” they were. When her company shuttered three years after starting, she decided to leap full-time into VC. “I looked around at venture funds to join, and I wasn't really finding the diversity and innovation that I wanted to see in a fund.” Her company, Cleo Capital, an early stage and pre-seed fund that invests mostly in tech-based start-ups, doesn’t treat diversity as an afterthought; it’s baked into her investing decisions. “Being able to help move that needle on diversity in terms of who I invest in and who I invest with has been really awesome,” she says.

Despite different paths, goals, projects, the fact that they work at different firms, and the ways the women's careers have diverged since those early days of passed hors d'oeuvres, the feeling of community has never wavered. Collaboration has always trumped competition—lateral mentorship has become genuine friendship; sideline cheerleaders have become trusted partners. The group find ways to work together—oftentimes, different funds back the same companies, and partnerships might make for stronger deals. Lightspeed, Bent’s fund, is an LP (licensing partner) in Cleo Capital; that means, by proxy, she's investing in some of Kunst’s investments. Sykes just joined Bent’s third Scout program at Lightspeed, dedicated to racial minorities. (A scout fund is one in which VC firms back individuals to make investments in early-stage companies.) Thomas describes a recent deal she went in on with Kunst for a female-founded business. “I hope that by all of us collaborating, we make each other stronger,” says Bent.

But they’re not just meeting up to ink deals. “I always have an email in my inbox from [Sarah],” says Bent. “She's like, ‘Hey, do you want to hop on this mentorship thing?’” Sykes says she often calls Kunst for gut-checks and opinions on next moves. “Some of my closest friends are Black women I met in venture and they're on the board of my nonprofit and they're the people I text every day and they're my mentors, and it kind of really runs the gamut,” says Sykes.

They are also universally motivated to create long-term change in VC and leave the industry better than the way they found it. Kunst describes her fear: “Imagine you literally win the job lottery, you're one of the most successful people in the world, much less Black women, and [if you then leave] your industry, it would still cause a percentage drop because there are [so] few people who look like you in your industry. That's really driven me to... I think of it as replacing myself.” The sentiment is shared by all the women. And though they love group-texting, there’s a hope that, one day, their clique might become a crowd.

“I am hopeful that there will be a point where a Black person who's coming to venture can come in and say ‘I'm literally just here to invest—I don't need a second job. I don't need to mentor every person who comes into my inbox,’” says Sykes. "But right now, most of the people who have joined venture in my generation are here, in part, because they want to make a difference. They see themselves as being able to change the industry just by being in it.”

Until then—and after—the foursome, and so many other Black women in VC, will continue to lean on each other and provide unwavering support. They'll work together to score big deals, yes. But they'll also work together because they genuinely respect and like one another, and there's power in numbers when it comes to creating change.

“This is a terrible analogy,” says Bent, “but [I think of] Megan Thee Stallion and Cardi B’s collaboration with ‘WAP.’ It [was] the number one rap song, and the first song to ever debut at number one on Billboard for female rap collaboration. We need to be the Black female VCs like they are the Black female duos. Working together like that, my hope would be that one day, we can do something together that becomes the biggest deal in history. When people talk about ‘I was the first investor in Uber, I was the first investor in Airbnb, or I was the first investor in Facebook,’ I can't name any Black women who were in those deals. But, I hope in the future when they talk about that huge deal, there will have been a couple of us together working on it.”

Somehow we've made it to the end of 2020. Despite being a trash year overall, it's still been an amazing year for books. Fiction seems to be the most compelling genre—see: Emily Henry's Beach Read and Brit Bennett's The Vanishing Half—as we attempt to immerse ourselves in another world to escape the current political climate and COVID-19 crisis. Then there are the purely therapeutic books, like Lili Reinhart's Swimming Lessons and Maggie Smith's Keep Moving, that encourage us to practice more self-love. Ahead, a list of the 2020 book releases we loved the most.

The opioid crisis is plaguing our country. Liz Moore brings the crisis to light in a twisty mystery where one of two inseparable sisters addicted to drugs goes missing. Oh, and that just so happens while a string of murders are happening in their Philadelphia neighborhood.

Available January 7, 2020

If you loved Lisa Taddeo's Three Women, you'll appreciate Miranda Popkey's debut novel, Topics of Conversation. The book is formatted into a series of conversations between fictional women who discuss everything from motherhood to loneliness to anger and guilt. 

Available January 7, 2020

It's nearly impossible to describe the premise of Caroline Zancan's We Wish You Luck. Just know that a group of students want to take revenge on their professor, and this is their story. 

Available January 14, 2020

Megan Angelo's debut novel traces the stories of three women, unexpectedly connected, who find themselves on the brink of high-profile success while discovering what their follower counts really means for their goals and dreams. It's a deep dive into the social media dominance we currently live within with lots of dark and hilarious turns. 

Available January 14, 2020

When Anna Wiener was in her mid-20s, she left her book publishing job in New York City for a data startup in Silicon Valley. What she didn't realize is that she'd find herself in a falsely progressive world masked by company ski vacations and in-office speakeasies. In her memoir, Wiener documents the rise and fall of her Silicon Valley dream. 

Available January 14, 2020

New York Times bestselling author Tessa Bailey writes a juicy rom-com about a couple who seemingly grows apart instead of growing together—forcing one of them to establish a marriage boot camp and the other to expose a big secret. 

Available January 14, 2020 

Every person nostalgic for the early 2000s will fall in love with Jessica Simpson's juicy memoir, Open Book, where she talks about everything from her relationship with ex John Mayer to how she convinced people to take her seriously while building an epic career. 

Available February 4, 2020

Mary Kubica's The Other Mrs. tells the chilling story about a woman named Sadie who moves from Chicago to Maine with her husband. All seems well...until her next door neighbor is murdered and she's one of the whispered-about suspects. 

Available February 18, 2020

One could argue that ELLE.com columnist R. Eric Thomas is one of the funniest people on the internet, and now he's blessing the world with his debut book, Here For It: Or, How to Save Your Soul in America, filled with humorous essays about growing up and feeling like an outsider. 

Available February 18, 2020

U.K.-based novelist Abi Daré makes her debut with an emotional story about a 14-year-old Nigerian woman determined to get an education and escape the fate of a child marriage her father forces her into with a local man.

Available February 25, 2020

Marie Claire's March #ReadWithMC pick, Anna K, certainly doesn't disappoint. Jenny Lee's modern YA retelling of Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina follows rich kids in New York as they navigate everything from sex and relationships to drugs and depression. Expect to be reminded of Gossip Girl. 

Available March 3, 2020

In Alka Joshi's The Henna Artist, 17-year-old Lakshmi escapes her rural village to Jaipur and becomes a henna artist to the wealthy, discovering secrets and challenges along the way. 

Available March 3, 2020

Lily King, the bestselling author of Euphoria (2014), knows exactly how to combine love, grief, creativity, and balance. A young prodigy who loses her mother must confront how to channel her ambition again...all while finding herself in love with two men at the same time.

Available March 3, 2020

Based on the author's grandfather, The Night Watchman takes place in 1953 as Thomas Wazhashk fights against the consequential treatment of Native Americans after a bill threatens to take away their land. 

Available March 3, 2020

This isn't your cliché trope about a high school student-teacher relationship. Kate Elizabeth Russell brings forth all of the emotion and complexity when Vanessa discovers almost two decades later that her first love has been accused of sexual abuse by a former student. 

Available March 10, 2020

Untamed is a beautiful memoir from activist, speaker, and bestselling author Glennon Doyle that explores the true lessons of motherhood, family, and divorce. 

Available March 10, 2020

Rebecca Serle's New York Times bestselling novel, In Five Years, is Marie Claire's April book club pick. Read an exclusive excerpt here, then dive in with us throughout the rest of the month. You'll devour it. 

Available March 10, 2020

Anybody obsessed with the exclusivity of private women's clubs, typically accessible only to the elite, will appreciate Andrea Bartz's latest thriller, The Herd, about what happens to the members of (fictional) NYC–based THE HERD when its glitzy founder vanishes without a trace.

Available March 24, 2020

You're always guaranteed a good time in Christina Lauren's novels, and The Honey Don't List is no exception. Home designers Melissa and Rusty Tripp have a very public Chip and Joanna Gaines-like relationship, except there's one problem: They actually can't stand each other. The story is told from the perspective of Melissa and Rusty's longtime employees, Carey and James, who are doing whatever it takes to keep their bosses' secret. 

Available March 24, 2020

Terry McMillan, the bestselling author of How Stella Got Her Groove Back and Waiting to Exhale is back with yet another heartwarming novel about the inevitabilities in life—this time with a 68-year-old who knows her best days are still ahead of her.

Available March 31, 2020

The New York Times bestselling author of the YA Divergent series is releasing her debut #adult novel about the aftermath of a group of five teens who save the world, essentially asking the existential question: Where do we go from here? 

Available April 6, 2020

The unfortunate timeliness of Sahar Mustafah's The Beauty of Your Face will be triggering for anybody who has experienced gun violence or lost a loved one to gun violence. In the novel, a Palestinian principal for an all-girl Muslim school in Chicago is confronted with a school shooter fueled by radical alt-right beliefs.

Available April 7, 2020

Julia Alvarez, one of the most influential Latina writers of all time, returns with Afterlife—a story centered on Antonia Vega, an immigrant writer who is forced to cope with the sudden death of her husband, her sister's disappearance, and an undocumented teenager who shows up at her doorstep all at once.  

Available April 7, 2020

The inimitable Marie Kondo is here to transform your messy desks...and stressful work relationships. 

Available April 7, 2020

Fans of Daisy Jones & The Six will appreciate Emily Gould's Perfect Tunes—a story about one mother's journey to pursue her singing dreams and her daughter's quest to find the answers she's desperately searching for 15 years later.

Available April 14, 2020

You'll recognize Sue Monk Kidd from her critically-acclaimed novel The Secret Life of Bees (2003). In her fourth novel, The Book of Longings, she takes readers all the way back to the first century in a tale about a young woman who meets 18-year-old Jesus. Yes, that Jesus. 

Available April 21, 2020

Emma Straub's All Adults Here will make you question your entire childhood, and how much your parents influenced it as you learn one mother's perspective of what went right and what went wrong with her own family. 

Available May 5, 2020 

Jennifer Weiner always writes honest, relatable stories, and Big Summer—a story about ex friends Daphne Berg and Drue Cavanaugh who unexpectedly re-enter each other's lives—is no exception.

Available May 5, 2020

As one Marie Claire reviewer wrote, Curtis Sittenfeld writes a "frustrating but fascinating look" at Hillary Clinton's life if she didn't marry Bill. 

Available May 19, 2020

Emily Henry's Beach Read is a brilliant meta novel about two authors who are complete opposites and decide to spend the summer helping each other finish their books. Nobody will fall in love at the end, right? 

Available May 19, 2020

While Maggie Krause struggles with her own sexuality, she discovers her mother's own shocking secrets following her tragic death. Now, she must navigate what this all means for herself and her family moving forward. 

Available May 26, 2020

Jordyn Taylor's debut novel, The Paper Girl of Paris, follows 16-year-old Alice who spends the summer in Paris and receives the keys to the apartment of her grandmother, who recently passed away. The catch? It's been locked for more than 70 years. Little does Alice know a whole world is waiting for her inside. 

Available May 26, 2020

Anybody who experienced sleepaway camp during their childhood will appreciate L.C. Rosen's Camp about a queer teen who reinvents himself to get his camp crush to fall in love with him. 

Available May 26, 2020

Two identical twin sisters who grew up in a southern Black community and ran away at age 16 couldn't be more different as they navigate their lives as adults. Expect hard conversations about race, family, and how decisions of the past affects the rest of their lives. 

Available June 2, 2020

Naoise Dolan's Exciting Times, Marie Claire's June #ReadWithMC pick, is a lovely novel about an Irish millennial expat in Hong Kong who finds herself in a love triangle with a male banker and a female lawyer. 

Available June 2, 2020

Megha Majumdar's 'A Burning' tells a compelling story of three Indian women who seek to rise to political power and fame in the midst of a catastrophe in India. 

Available June 2, 2020

Liz Lighty had a plan to get out of her small, rich, white town of Campbell, Indiana: attend Pennington College, play in its world-famous orchestra, and become a doctor. When the financial aid falls through, Lighty goes on a quest to become prom queen—the next best thing she can think of to receive scholarship money—and there's nothing she won't do to win.

Available June 2, 2020

After a 12-year-old queer Palestinian-American girl is shunned for exposing her legs in public in a biblical city, readers are taken on a journey from the protagonist's teen years to her growth into a sought-after DJ and aspiring writer. 

Available June 9, 2020

Pizza Girl is a witty, humorous novel about a pregnant 18-year-old pizza girl working in Los Angeles who ends up forming an unlikely relationship with a stay-at-home mother who's new to the neighborhood. 

Available June 9, 2020

Escape reality with Farrah Rochon's juicy rom-rom, The Boyfriend Project, that tells the story of three friends who swear off men after a catfish incident. That is, until Samiah meets Daniel at work. 

Available June 9, 2020

If you're in need of a new thriller, Catherine McKenzie's You Can't Catch Me is a gripping account of a woman who escapes a cult and attempts to reenter society. All goes according to plan until she lands next to a woman in an airport bar with an identical name and birth date.

Available June 9, 2020

Ottessa Moshfegh brings her genius to her latest novel, Death in Her Hands, where an elderly widow finds a note about a dead body while on a walk with her dog and attempts to discover what happened to her. 

Available June 23, 2020

Laura Zimmermann's relatable My Eyes Are Up Here documents a young girl's self-discovery while her body starts to change. 

Available June 23, 2020

Hannah Orenstein is getting ready to release her latest novel, Head Over Heels, a rom-com set in the competitive gymnastics world. Avery Abrams is forced to learn a new way of life after her gymnast career suddenly ends. Meanwhile, her best friend slash former teammate, Jasmine, becomes an Olympic champion and marries their emotionally abusive coach, Dimitri. Twisty storylines about love and relationships follow. 

Available June 23, 2020

Jasmine Guillory's Party of Two follows Olivia, a lawyer who moves to L.A. and unexpectedly meets a high-profile junior senator. Finally going public with their relationship after keeping it a secret, they couple is forced to deal with intense media scrutiny and the consequences of their past lives. 

Available June 23, 2020

Psychological thriller The Last Flight tells the story of a woman, Claire, who plans to disappear from her seemingly-perfect life. When she meets a woman in an airport bar who's planning to do the same, they end up switching tickets. Tragically, the woman who ends up taking Claire's ticket dies in a plane crash (it was supposed to be Claire!), prompting Claire to assume the woman's identity and, therefore, her secrets.

Available June 23, 2020

In her raw memoir, Susan Burton explores her relationship with food and the secret binge-eating, which later led to anorexia, that shaped her life.

Available June 23, 2020

Thin Girls recounts the story of twin sisters who help each other through their eating disorders and toxic relationships—attempting to save each other from themselves.

Available June 30, 2020

When Noemí Taboada receives a frantic letter from her cousin, she discovers her trapped in a nightmare that only she can see. Expect Mexican folklore mixed with darkness and suspense in this captivating novel.

Available June 30, 2020

Sophie Mackintosh, author of The Water Cure, returns with Blue Ticket—a Handmaid's Tale-esque story centered on a disturbing reality where women report to a station the first day they bleed to discover their fate: a white ticket, which grants you marriage and children, or a blue ticket, which grants you a career and freedom.  

Available June 30, 2020

Leah Konen's All the Broken People is a domestic thriller centered on Lucy, who flees from Brooklyn to Woodstock, New York, and meets a couple next door who asks her to help fake the husband's death. As you might imagine, things don't go exactly as planned.

Available June 30, 2020

Diksha Basu's Destination Wedding is a charming rom-com about Tina Das who escapes to India for her cousin’s lavish wedding thinking it will help solve her problems. Instead, she's met with family drama and life-changing decisions she's forced to confront.

Available June 30, 2020

When plus-size fashion blogger Bea Schumacher gets an opportunity to star in hit reality show Main Squeeze, she realizes that trying not to fall in love—something she swore off doing on the show—is harder than she thought. 

Available July 7, 2020

Saumya Dave's Well-Behaved Indian Women tells the story of three generations of women who grapple with their identity and how they shaped each other's lives...through the good and the bad. 

Available July 14, 2020

Crazy Rich Asians author Kevin Kwan returns with a sexy tale about a young woman who's torn between two worlds: the "WASP establishment" of her family and George Zao, a Hong Kong surfer boy she's desperately trying not to fall in love with.  

Available July 14, 2020

Brazilian-American author Gabriella Burnham's debut novel, It Is Wood, It Is Stone, is set in São Paulo, Brazil. The story centers on Linda and how her maid Marta's lives intersect. Expect themes of class, privilege, and power. 

Available July 28, 2020

In an unfortunately timely novel, Kim Johnson's This Is My America recounts the story of 17-year-old Tracy Beaumont who's working to get her innocent father off of death row. That is, until her older brother, Jamal, is accused of killing a white girl. Now, she's forced to discover the truth about what happened within the racist town her family resides in. 

Available July 28, 2020

When 81-year-old Lilia Liska finds the diary of Roland Bouley, a man she once had an affair with, she finds herself outlining a different interpretation of events that transcends into themes of grief, loss, resilience, and rebirth.

Available July 28, 2020

Marie Claire's August book club pick is Raven Leilani's brilliant debut about a young Black artist named Edie who finds herself in an open marriage with a man named Eric, a digital archivist, and his wife, an autopsist. What follows is an invitation into the couple's home, but not without struggles of racial and sexual identity as Edie attempts to navigate this chaotic world she's living in. 

Available August 4, 2020

Morgan Jerkins, New York Times-bestselling author, is back with Wandering in Strange Lands—a powerful journey about discovering her roots and understanding how an entire lineage of Black Americans came to be who they are today. 

Available August 4, 2020

What would you do if you were a mother who opened the front door and discovered your son's body wrapped in colorful fabric? Akwaeke Emezi's The Death of Vivek Oji is equal parts brilliant and heartbreaking as readers are taken on a journey to discover the hidden parts of Vivek's life and the mystery surrounding his death. 

Available August 4, 2020

Stephenie Meyer returns with the highly-anticipated continuation of the Twilight series. This time, fans are hearing Edward's side of the story.

Available August 4, 2020

When four LAPD officers are acquitted after beating a Black man named Rodney King half to death, Ashley's Blackness is front and center. Now, she's no longer just "one of the girls" and is forced to navigate the racism she experiences as a Black woman living in L.A. during the 1992 riots.

Available August 4, 2020

After Jill's best friend, Shaila Arnold, was killed by her boyfriend freshman year, she attempts to begin her senior year in Gold Coast, Long Island, with a fresh mindset. That is, until she starts receiving texts insisting the boyfriend is innocent. 

Available August 4, 2020

If you've already read Ibram X. Kendi's How to Be an Antiracist, add Isabel Wilkerson's Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents to your reading list next. 

Available August 4, 2020

Royal reporters Omid Scobie and Carolyn Durand released Finding Freedom—an inside look into Prince Harry and Meghan Markle's life over the past few years and the decision behind their royal exit. 

Available August 11, 2020

Former Congresswoman Katie Hill wrote She Will Rise in three months (!) to document the misogyny and double standards she faced after essentially being forced to step down from Congress when nude photos of her were leaked on the internet last year. 

Available August 11, 2020

At the height of her career, teen star Grace Turner disappeared. Now, she's trying to enter back into society while being unexpectedly confronted by her abuser. This time around, she knows she's the one in control. 

Available August 11, 2020

Readers can expect the same genius in Transcendent Kingdom that Yaa Gyasi delivered in Homegoing (2016), which received the Hemingway Foundation/PEN Award in 2017. In Transcendent Kingdom, Gyasi tells the story of a family from Ghana that struggles to make a home for themselves in small-town Alabama.

Available September 1, 2020 

If the existential threat of climate change keeps you up at night, James Lawrence Powell's The 2084 Report will make you want to do everything in your power to elect leaders who will combat global warming and save our planet. 

Available September 1, 2020

Elena Ferrante's The Lying Life of Adults, set in Naples, Italy, grapples with a young woman's journey to adulthood as she's constantly critiqued by her family. You can read more about the critically-acclaimed novel here.

Available September 1, 2020

Bestselling author Ibi Zoboi and prison reform activist Yusef Salaam of the Exonerated Five teamed up to write Punching the Air—a powerful YA novel about a boy convicted of a crime he didn't commit, who turns his grief into art as he fights for the world to learn his truth. 

Available September 1, 2020

In Alyssa Cole's compelling thriller, When No One Is Watching, the gentrification of a Brooklyn neighborhood turns sinister when main character Sydney and her neighbor Theo realize that the neighbors may not have actually moved out at all. 

Available September 1, 2020

Elissa R. Sloan's The Unraveling of Cassidy Holmes centers on the suicide of a global pop icon and what her ex bandmates could have done to save her. 

Available September 1, 2020

Lilliam Rivera's Never Look Back reimagines the Greek myth Orpheus that explores themes of cultural identity, trauma, and first love.

Available September 1, 2020

Marie Claire's October book club pick is a modern Ghanaian love story chronicling the complicated relationship between Afi, a young seamstress in Ghana, and the family who has convinced her to marry a man she doesn't know, Elikem. You can read honest reader reviews about the novel here.

Available September 1, 2020

While a woman describes significant encounters with people she's met throughout her life, she ultimately creates a transformative experience of her own. 

Available September 8, 2020

When aspiring singer Enchanted Jones wakes up with blood on her hands and zero recollection of the night before, she's forced to confront a haunting question: What really happened to R&B artist Korey Fields?

Available September 15, 2020 

Fans of Grey's Anatomy will appreciate The White Coat Diaries—a story about Norah Kapadia, who landed the medical residency of her dreams and soon questions her fate after being involved in a cover-up that could jeopardize her career.

Available September 15, 2020

Natalka Burian's Daughters of the Wild tells the story of Joanie and her foster siblings who live on a farm in rural West Virginia tending for a magical plant called the vine. Joanie plans to escape with the help of her foster brother after an arranged marriage goes wrong, but before she leaves her baby goes missing and she's forced to summon the vine for help. 

Available September 22, 2020

Candice Iloh's YA novel, Every Body Looking, takes us through the life of Ada—the daughter of a Nigerian immigrant father and an African-American mother who struggles to craft her identity in the world and within her own family. 

Available September 22, 2020

New York Times bestselling author Jodi Picoult publishes a heartbreaking tale about a woman who survives a plane crash, realizing in what she thought would be her final moments that she wasn't thinking about her husband—but instead a man she met 15 years ago. She must then decide which path she wants to take as she moves forward with her life. 

Available September 22, 2020 

Dear Justyce is the sequel to the New York Times bestseller Dear Martin, which gives readers an eye-opening look into America's broken prison system as Quan writes letters to his friend Justyce while incarcerated. 

Available September 29, 2020

Mikki Daughtry and Rachael Lippincott, authors of the New York Times-bestselling novel Five Feet Apart, are back with a crushing romance novel that begins with death and transforms into a heartbreaking love story. Make sure you have a box of tissues.

Available September 29, 2020

Sometimes who we think we're supposed to end up with turns out to be the wrong person after all. In Just Like You, Nick Hornby, author of High Fidelity, explores the relationship of an unexpected love match, and the rewards of opening your heart. 

Available September 29, 2020

After Azere promised her dying father she would marry a Nigerian man, she struggles to uphold that promise after falling for a white man. What follows is a powerful story of identity and self-discovery. 

Available September 29, 2020 

Actress/poet/beautiful human Lili Reinhart is releasing her first collection of poems this fall. 

"One year ago, I decided I wanted to share my poetry with the world. It’s scary to reveal a part of myself that I don’t often show, but I like to consider this book as more of a story rather than a confession of thought," she shared on Instagram in October 2019. "Strangers, songs, films, fictional characters, love in various forms, and of course my own experiences were my inspiration throughout the creation of Swimming Lessons. This book means a lot to me and I’m very grateful to be in the position to finally share it." 

Available September 29, 2020

After you've finished reading Jessica Simpson's Open Book, order Mariah Carey's highly-anticipated first memoir, The Meaning of Mariah Carey. It's as good as you think it will be. 

Available September 29, 2020

The literary world cannot stop talking about Rumaan Alam's Leave the World Behind, centered on a family who's interrupted mid-vacation by the owners of the home they're renting who claim they're in a crisis. The real question is...can they actually trust them?

Available October 6, 2020

One Marie Claire reviewer says Tana French's The Searcher is the mystery novel of the season that "has everything you love–the suspense, the questions, the unraveling of lies–without bureaucracy, clichés, or the moral high ground."

Available October 6, 2020

Following Maggie Smith on Twitter is like entering an inspirational capsule of wisdom, truth, and vulnerability—and now we get the privilege to read more of the American poet's courageous words in her latest book, Keep Moving: Notes on Loss, Creativity, and Change. 

Available October 6, 2020

Read Black Lives Matter Co-Founder Alicia Garza's The Purpose of Power if you're looking for a powerful guide on how to build a successful movement from a woman who has learned how to do just that. 

Available October 20, 2020

Emily Danforth's Plain Bad Heroines, Marie Claire's November book club pick, is a gothic horror-comedy comprised of twisty stories within stories, beginning with Flo and Clara—two students at the Brookhants School for Girls in 1902—who create the Plain Bad Heroine Society and are found dead on campus shortly after. Read an excerpt from the novel here.

Available October 20, 2020

In this part biography, part self-help book, Arianna Davis dives into the culture-shifting, vibrant world of Mexican artist Frida Kahlo. Going from a child prone to illness to one of the most recognized faces in history, Kahlo is the embodiment of resilience—just one of the many lessons we can learn from her.

Available October 20, 2020

Benson and Mike are at a crossroads in their relationship, but when Mike flies to Japan to help his dying father and discovers the truth about his past, the couple realizes just how much they contribute to each other's lives.

Available October 27, 2020

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, best known for her 2013 novel Americanah, is back with her short story, "Zikora," about a D.C. lawyer from Nigeria who tells her lover that she's pregnant and he ends up abandoning her—prompting her to reimagine what motherhood will look like for her.

Available October 27, 2020

Susie Yang beautifully ties together the complex storyline of a young woman's dark obsession with a privileged classmate and the lengths she's willing to go for success.

Available November 3, 2020

Cecily von Ziegesar, bestselling author of Gossip Girl, makes her return with Cobble Hill—a novel that follows a year in the life of four families in an upscale Brooklyn neighborhood.

Available November 10, 2020

In The Office of Historical Corrections, Danielle Evans shares thought-provoking stories of race, grief, apology, and American history.

Available November 10, 2020

In Dearly, Margaret Atwood, author of The Handmaid's Tale, releases a brand new set of poems for the first time in nearly a decade, all of which focus on themes of love, loss, nature, time, and...zombies.

Available November 10, 2020

Emily Schultz' Little Threats takes us through the life of a woman who served 15 years in prison for murder and the events leading up to how she got there. 

Available November 10, 2020

Beloved poet Rupi Kaur returns with her latest collection of poems, Home Body, centered on identity and being at home with one's self. 

Available November 17, 2020

In the first of two volumes, POTUS 44 provides an honest account of the lows and highs during his years in office, from inheriting the presidency during a global financial crisis to securing the passage of the Affordable Care Act, all while emphasizing the importance of preserving our democracy amid the challenging times we’re living in. 

Available November 17, 2020

When a government-sanctioned regime called The Boots tries to round up communities of color along with disabled and LGBTQ+ people into labor camps, a queer Black performer and his allies attempt to take it down. 

Available December 8, 2020 

Kenya Hunt's Girl Gurl Grrrl is a collection of essays centered on what it means to be a thriving Black woman today. Expect themes of motherhood, womanhood, and the ultimate celebration of Black Girl Magic. 

Available December 8, 2020

People with felony records in Florida have to pay off old court fines before they can vote; in 10 other states, people with records are limited in how and whether they can vote. Michigan House representative Tenisha Yancey is watching these and other after-effects of incarceration with alarm. She has a felony record herself. As a teenager, she was convicted of retail fraud and charged with felonious use of a firearm. Still, Yancey, 44, got her law degree, worked as an assistant prosecutor in Detroit's juvenile division, and, in 2017, became a Michigan House member representing parts of Detroit and its suburbs. While at first she kept quiet about her criminal record, worried that voters and colleagues would judge her negatively for her past, she’s become a vocal supporter of criminal-justice reform. Marie Claire spoke with Yancey about her complicated past, how it informs her work as a legislator, and her views on the justice system. (And, yes, in Michigan, which automatically restores felons’ voting rights upon release, Yancey votes—including, on Tuesday, for herself.)

Marie Claire: You were raised in Detroit, and your parents had these classic Detroit jobs.

Tenisha Yancey: My dad was a Detroit bus driver. My mom worked at General Motors, in Local 22, which was the Poletown plant, as an assembly line worker. After she had a stroke, when I was eight, she was an elevator operator, and that lasted until her second stroke when she was forced to retire [when she was about 39 and I was about 10].

MC: What did her strokes mean, day to day, for you?

TY: By then both my older siblings were out of the home, and my dad didn't live with us. I couldn't go out to play with my friends because I needed to help her read and write, or I had to write out the checks for the bills.

MC: Tell me about your neighborhood growing up, in the 1980s and ‘90s.

TY: We were the first or second black family on the block. That changed over the years because of the great white flight: All the white families moved out, all the black families moved in, and then there was the crack epidemic that went on [to the point that] it became the norm that there was a crack house on every corner. [The dealers] were my friends' siblings; it was never a threatening situation to me. But we were impacted by it. [When I was about 10, and my older brother was over], I remember the D.P.D. [Detroit Police Department] kicked in our front door and we were all really, really scared. I remember my mom saying, 'Go upstairs, go upstairs'—she still could say certain words [after her stroke]. Come to find out, the police had the wrong address.

MC: What led to the spate of criminal charges in your teenage years?

TY: Being a product of my environment, one, and two, having already gone through the traumatic experience of my mom's strokes and essentially losing a parent, and then my dad's death, five days before my 14th birthday. As he was getting luggage out of the car, a drunk driver came and smashed him. After that, I went down a very, very dark, downward spiral. [I was] not caring, not giving a damn about anything.

Then I turned 17 and graduated from high school, and there was an incident that occurred in June of that year. There was a girl who I had an altercation with about our mutual boyfriend (unbeknownst to me). She had initially come to my job to confront me, [and later I brought] a firearm into [her] occupancy. Then there was returning items: I would pick up an item at a store and walk up to the counter and say, 'I'd like to return them,' and they'd give me a gift card or put it on a credit card. I knew that it was wrong.

In Wayne County jail—I was there for two weeks—it was horrible living conditions, leeches in the shower. [Then] I did 90 days in [jail] in Kalamazoo County. I would look at the women who'd been in and out of this jail their entire lives, and I'm like, How did you get here? And how do I make sure that I do not return? I was 18 when I got out. After I got food from my mom's house, the very next thing [I did] was to enroll in [college].

MC: How did you decide on law school?

TY: I always wanted to be a lawyer, and I definitely felt intimidated by law school after the felony. People were very discouraging: 'You're not gonna pass character and fitness' [a portion of the bar exam]. I called a judge, a friend of my family, and he said, even if you don't pass the bar, a J.D. behind your name will take you a lot further in life. I went to law school [at night] down the street from where I worked [as a paralegal], so I knew I could make it to school even if I had to walk.

MC: You had a young son at the time, too—you must've been exhausted.

TY: Exhausted. My son came right at the end of my two-year degree, right before I started a four-year degree. My sister, we jokingly called her my baby daddy, because [my son] was always there at her house. There were times that I wanted to drop out of law school. I remember getting a 2.4 the first semester and I cried; I'm a person who had 3.5 GPAs my entire life. Then I talked to a lawyer that I worked with. He said, 'Do you know what they call a lawyer with a 2.4 GPA?' I'm like, 'No, what?' And he was like, 'A lawyer. So you're gonna get your ass back to class today.'

Character and fitness [examines]: Are you absolutely sound and fit to practice law? [The bar examiners] sent me a letter and said, ‘We see you have this criminal background. Why should we allow you to pass?’ Initially I started giving them my life story about what I did, why I did it. I've had some great mentors, and my executive director at the time said, ‘Delete all this shit and answer the question.’ And that's what I did; I deleted my whole life story that I had typed for three days.

In between this character and fitness portion, you're also studying to take the actual bar exam, the written portion. Before I got my results back from the written portion, I got a letter [saying I passed character and fitness]. It was a huge relief. Then, I got the results for the bar, and I had failed by three points. At first I'm like, I'm not going to do this again. Then it dawned on me. I've already passed the part that I can't control. This is the part that I can control. I'm going back for three points.

MC: Why did you want to become a prosecutor?

TY: I liked criminal law, and once I got in the juvenile division, I [wanted] to share my testimony with some of the offenders. After the case had been adjudicated, I'd ask defense counsel for permission to speak with the client. And I would share my story.

MC: When you entered the House race in 2017, were you worried about your criminal record? The race got fairly ugly, quickly.

TY: I knew it would come up. It hurt. I don't think I've ever felt ashamed of [my record] because it was something that I clearly had to go through in order to get me to where I am now. It was just the fact that people wanted to bring it up as if it had happened yesterday. [Campaigning] in Grosse Pointe [a rich suburb], I was perceived in a negative light, but in Detroit, they felt I was being railroaded. I had one guy say, 'I know you; you’re the girl who got in a fight when you were two years old and they just want to send you to hell for it.' Surprisingly, I heard [from people] who felt confident to share things with me: Some people would tell me, 'I was a child when I was convicted.' Some had DUIs and they're like, 'I understand. Once you do it you can't go back.'

MC: What was it like the first time you went to Lansing as a legislator?

TY: That was kind of surreal, to look out the window and see the capital. The job [I have] to do is not overwhelming; the time constraint is. I have ideas at four o'clock in the morning sometimes, and I respect my staff enough to not text their phones. I put it in Slack: Let's research this and see if we can get legislation here. What I don't like is that you can have the greatest ideas and it won't go anywhere because of party lines.

MC: You've supported legislation around criminal justice, including expunging certain kinds of criminal records, increasing police accountability, and adding penalties for people who call in false police reports. Does having a criminal background yourself give you a different perspective?

TY: Yeah. I'm working on a project that we will take into the schools, hopefully. I want to teach young people what a crime is, elements of crimes. Because how do you hold someone accountable for certain things if they're not even aware that it's a crime? So [my] accessory [retail-fraud conviction], for instance: I thought if I'm not doing the actual act [of exchanging items for money], why would I be in trouble? I want to make sure that they are aware of the consequences.

MC: Last year, when an expungement bill was under consideration, you spoke about your own record on the House floor in a moving way. Was that a big deal?

TY: Oh, yes. Some of my colleagues feel... I've heard dialogue on how people view people who have committed crimes. They don't necessarily deem these people as being worthy at all. My colleagues have something to gain from knowing that this was once me, but it should not be the end-all be-all for me or for anyone else. It's really funny, sometimes, to see their faces when they find out that I have a criminal background; they're just completely blown away. And if you can understand that I changed my life afterwards, and you can accept me, you should be able to accept legislation that gives people additional chances.

MC: When you see collateral consequences of convictions play out, especially right now, where felons in some states are barred from voting, what's your reaction?

TY: It’s absolutely insane. Your right to vote should be based on the fact that you are a tax-paying citizen; you should not base it on past behaviors. Like for me, am I going to be punished for the rest of my life for what I did as a teenager? You're disenfranchising a group of people, and it can be a form of racism. Something else I'm working on—this does reflect my experience as a convicted felon—I'm not able to sit on a jury. I have a bill [to change] that. Why wouldn't you want someone like me on your jury? I can be impartial; I can probably be more impartial than someone who's never had contact with the criminal justice system.

It’s one of the most contentious topics of our time, splitting political parties, lawmakers, and dinner tables alike: Abortion. But it shouldn't be: No matter your personal beliefs, a person has a right to access an abortion without the excessive intrusion and restriction of the U.S. government, thanks to the landmark 1973 court ruling Roe v. Wade.

Yet the rights of pregnant people have remained under attack ever since that historic day almost 50 years ago, via countless rules and restrictions that undermine the Roe v. Wade ruling. Over the past four years alone, new rulings have jeopardized access to an abortion, making it more difficult for people, especially for low-income women and women of color, to get the care they need.

“Everything is on the line in this election—our health, our rights, our bodies, and our futures. Access to sexual and reproductive health care writ large, not just abortion, is at stake,” says Alexis McGill Johnson, President of Planned Parenthood Action Fund.

Here, we break down what might happen to one's access to reproductive care and an abortion depending on who is elected into office on November 3.

Where the Candidates Stand:

According to nonpartisan, nonprofit organization OnTheIssues.Org, Trump called himself "very pro-choice" in 1999, but when running for president in 2016, it was clear he had radically switched his position, claiming that he was “pro-life” and that he thought Roe v. Wade would “automatically” be overturned if he was elected.

He has not been successful yet in making that happen, but he has done anything within his power to fundamentally weaken a person’s access to an abortion: He has stacked the Supreme Court with conservative judges; he backed an unsuccessful bill that would have banned abortion past 20 weeks of pregnancy, he supports the Hyde Amendment, which bans the use of public funds for most abortion services; he imposed a gag rule dismantling Title X, meaning he banned health care providers that receive Title X grants from telling people how they can safely and legally access abortion; and he plans to weaken the Affordable Care Act, which many women rely on for contraception.

Directly quoted from his “accomplishment” page on his website in relation to abortion, he touts:

• President Trump’s Human and Health Services announced changes to Title X to stop taxpayer dollars from supporting abortion providers
• The Trump administration issued a rule allowing health care workers to refuse to provide services like abortion, sterilization or assisted suicide, if they cite a religious or conscientious objection

Biden has laid out the framework for a plan that will strengthen a person’s access to reproductive care. He supports a woman’s right to choose and has announced a plan that will not only put an end to Trump administration rulings, but introduce new protections. During the Democratic Primary, Biden reversed his position on the Hyde Amendment. He has previously supported it, but now opposes it and plans to repeal it, claiming in 2019 that he “can't justify leaving millions of women without access to the care they need.”

Directly quoted from his plan on his website, he pledges to (among other things):

• Restore federal funding to Planned Parenthood
• Rescind the Mexico City Policy (also referred to as the global gag rule) that President Trump reinstated and expanded.
• Work to codify Roe v. Wade
• Stop the rash of state laws that so blatantly violate the constitutional right to an abortion, such as so-called TRAP laws, parental notification requirements, mandatory waiting periods, and ultrasound requirements

So, what’s at stake?

According to Jacqueline Ayers, Vice President of Government Relations & Public Policy for Planned Parenthood Action Fund, ensuring fair and equitable access to birth control is a crucial first step to protecting people who can get pregnant, and should be a main focus of our new administration. "Birth control is healthcare,” she says. “If you're Black or Brown in this country, we know that you're likely to not have equal access to abortion and the full range of reproductive health care. That's why there's a real opportunity to seize on the moment in a new administration."

Trump wants to repeal and replace the Affordable Care Act (though he’s offered no substitute plan), which many women rely on to receive reproductive care. This could disproportionately impact women of color, who already face increased barriers when it comes to receiving reproductive care and contraception. Additionally, Trump has issued a rule that allows employers to opt out of covering birth control if they cite religious reasons. If elected, it’s fair to expect Trump will uphold such decisions as well as implement new restrictions that make it more difficult to access and abortion and get covered care.

Instead of stifling the Affordable Care Act, Biden wants to build upon its progress. The ACA covers access to preventive care and contraception for many people across the country, and strengthening that access is crucial. He also plans to put funding back into Planned Parenthood. Additionally, he intends to implement policies to reduce racial disparities. According to his plan: “Compared to other developed nations, the U.S. has the highest rate of deaths related to pregnancy and childbirth, and we are the only country experiencing an increase in this death rate. This problem is especially prevalent among black women, who experience a death rate from complications related to pregnancy that is more than three times higher than the rate for non-Hispanic white women.” Biden wants to take a plan born in California (that has reduced maternal deaths by 50 percent) nationwide.

The monumental 1973 Supreme Court decision that grants women the right to choose to have an abortion hangs in the balance. Trump has nominated Supreme Court justices (including current nominee Amy Coney Barrett) that would likely rule to overturn Roe. If that happens, it will impact the lives of Americans for decades to come. Now that the Supreme Court has a strong conservative base, it’s imperative that we have an administration in place that can introduce abortion protections should the court threaten Roe v. Wade.

“We know Donald Trump has committed to only nominating justices who will overturn Roe v. Wade and Judge Barrett’s record is proof that she could fit that bill. If Roe is overturned, nearly half of all states in the country are poised to ban abortion—that means 25 million women of reproductive age live in a state where abortion could be banned if it falls,” says Johnson. “However, we know that for many people, due to years of attacks and systemic barriers in the health care system, abortion is already a right in name only: there are already five states with only one abortion provider."

In his town hall on October 5, Biden said that he wants to make Roe v. Wade "the law of the land" and plans to codify the ruling into law. To read his entire Agenda for Women, which outlines his plan to protect reproductive rights, click here.

In the decades since Roe v. Wade’s passing, individual states have introduced laws limiting or weakening abortion rights. While overturning Roe is a real concern, numerous new state cases are currently making their way to the Supreme Court. Now that the court has a conservative majority, the ruling on these cases could fundamentally weaken one’s access to an abortion or reproductive care. As Rachel Fey, Senior Director of Public Policy at Power To Decide, puts it, Roe v. Wade is the floor, not the ceiling. As abortion-related or adjacent cases climb through the courts, there’s greater possibility that a person might face increased barriers to access an abortion, even if Roe v. Wade is protected.

“There are numerous cases [17] working their way through other levels of federal courts concerning abortion,” says Fey. “They range from issues like a ban on abortion after six weeks, which I should note is sooner than most women even realize they are pregnant, to bans on whether or not a state can exclude certain abortion providers from their Medicaid program to requirements on how to dispose of fetal remains that shame and stigmatize those that receive abortions.”

According to Biden’s plan, he will "do everything in its power to stop the rash of state laws that so blatantly violate the constitutional right to an abortion, such as so-called TRAP laws, parental notification requirements, mandatory waiting periods, and ultrasound requirements.” On the other hand, Trump in the past has stated that abortion decisions could be left up to the states, saying in 2018: “Maybe some day it will be to the states, you never know how that’s going to turn out.”

Passing off responsibility to the states could jeopardize abortion access. “There's a lot of things that are all working their way through the court,” says Fey. “Some of them are cases designed to challenge Roe v. Wade. Others are cases that are what we would call targeting regulations of abortion providers, or TRAP laws, that are designed to further restrict access to abortion care with no medical benefit for the patient. A good example of a TRAP law is the Louisiana law that was struck down earlier this year.”

Biden plans to establish nationwide protections for abortion, so even if Roe v. Wade is overturned by the Supreme Court, there will be other failsafes in place. Plus, Senator Harris co-sponsored Women’s Health Protection Act (which would "protect a woman’s ability to determine whether and when to bear a child or end a pregnancy, and to protect a health care provider’s ability to provide reproductive health care services, including abortion services"). It’s currently with the House of Representatives.

Without introducing additional protections, people of color face increased risk. “Since day one, the Trump administration has pushed not just judges with records hostile to abortion rights, but also policies undermining access to sexual and reproductive health, and they’ve undercut our health safety net, with a devastating impact on Black people, Latinos, and families with low incomes" says Johnson.

Trump supports the Hyde Amendment, a rule added and approved to the Congress spending bill every year, which bars the use of federal funding for most abortion services (the funds can be used in cases where the pregnant person's life is at risk or in cases of rape). Biden supports ending the Hyde Amendment, stating in his plan that “health care is a right that should not be dependent on one’s zip code or income.”

The impacts of the Hyde Amendment impact all people, but acutely impact women of color. “Access to abortion is not equal right now,” says Fey. “Seven million women live in states where Medicaid does not cover their abortion care. Half of those women are women of color.”

Johnson shares how the Hyde Amendment also widens racial disparity: "Because of centuries of systemic racism, the Hyde Amendment, which eliminates abortion coverage for people who have low incomes, has disproportionately prevented people of color from being able to access reproductive health care. For more than four decades, it has blocked federal Medicaid coverage of the vast majority of abortion services—it’s a textbook example of the systemic racism that has driven millions to protest over the past several months and led to deep racial disparities in health care outcomes that the COVID-19 pandemic has laid bare," she says.

One can expect not repealing the Hyde Amendment will continue to have real-life consequences: Research shows that approximately one in four of women who would have Medicaid-funded abortions instead give birth when this funding is unavailable. We also know that denying a woman who relies on federal assistance an abortion may push her deeper into poverty.

With only 13 days until the Presidential Election, there’s a lot of complicated conversation to cut through (and yelling…So. Much. Yelling.) With so much hanging dangerously in the balance (health care, gun control, police reform) it's critical to make your voice heard. The right to choose and equitable access to an abortion is unquestionably on the ticket this year, so make a plan to vote on November 3 (or, if your state allows it, vote early or mail in your ballot!).

There’s a tendency, when looking back on the history of women’s suffrage in the United States, to assume that it was inevitable that women would get the right to vote: By the time Tennessee became the final state to ratify the 19th Amendment, on August 18, 1920, 15 states had already granted women suffrage, starting with Wyoming, which became a state in 1890. (As a territory, it gave women suffrage in 1869.) How long could such an electoral-rights imbalance reasonably be expected to survive?

Then again, was it really inevitable? The amendment’s passage was the culmination of probably the longest sustained sociopolitical movement in American history, and even so it came down to a single 24-year-old Tennessee state legislator’s vote—changed from nay to aye after his mother wrote him a letter lobbying him to do so—or it wouldn’t have happened, at least not in 1920. And even then, the 19th Amendment hardly put an end to systematic disenfranchisement (and not only of women) in this country. On a practical basis, Black women in the South, and to some extent Black women anywhere, still didn’t get to exercise their right to vote (as Black men hadn’t and didn’t)—not until the Voting Rights Act of 1965 swept away many of the tactics vote suppressors had used for decades to thwart them. Native American women (along with Native American men) didn’t get the vote until 1924, when their citizenship was recognized (they weren’t guaranteed the right to vote in every state until 1962); all Asian-American citizens didn’t get the vote until 1952, when the McCarran-Walter Act granted all people of Asian ancestry the right to become citizens. As an additional point of comparison, women in Switzerland were not granted the right to cast a ballot in their national elections until 1971. Imagine how different this country might be—socially, culturally, politically—if women had been forced to wait 51 more years before successfully seizing the right to exercise their power at the polls. Imagine how different things might be if women never got that right.

The contemplation of hypothetical, alternative histories—the conjuring of counterfactual scenarios and the spinning of stories about what the world and our lives might be like if this, this, or this had happened or not—is an endlessly fascinating pastime. (The “What if the Nazis had won?” alternative-history subgenre has lately seen a particularly strong resurgence with the bingeworthy Hollywood adaptations of The Man in the High Castle and The Plot Against America.) It’s also a deeply fraught exercise, with each counterfactual pivot triggering an endless range of possible implications and outcomes, each of which in turn sets in motion its own innumerable ripples of “what if.” We can’t say definitively how a century of women voting has shaped the world we live in or what that world would look like in its absence. But we can crunch some numbers and offer some data-driven possibilities. We can, for instance, examine state-by-state exit polling from presidential elections to see whether and how the Electoral College might have swung if men alone had wielded the ballot.

And when we do so, here is what we find: Women’s and men’s votes have been diverging in significant ways for several decades, so much so that at least two relatively recent elections might very well have gone the other way—from the Democratic candidate to the Republican—if women had still been barred from the polls on election day.

For a while after the 19th Amendment went into effect, it looked as if the entry of women into the electorate would have little or no tangible impact at all. Women didn’t vote at nearly the level men did—36 percent of eligible women cast a ballot in 1920, versus 68 percent of men—and when they did vote, they tended to do so pretty much as men did. “Suffragists get a bad rap because the amendment passes, and then the world doesn’t change,” says Susan Ware, author of Why They Marched: Untold Stories of the Women Who Fought for the Right to Vote. “It wasn’t as if all of a sudden women threw all the politicians out of office and decided to end war and end prostitution and all these things. But suffragists never claimed that the world would change. They didn’t say women would vote as a bloc and war would end.”

In some ways, the specter of a woman’s vote seems almost to have had more power than the vote itself—at first. “Right after 1920, we get the Sheppard-Towner Act, which provides support for mothers and infant care,” says Christina Wolbrecht, director of the Rooney Center for the Study of American Democracy at the University of Notre Dame and co-author of A Century of Votes for Women: American Elections Since Suffrage (which is where the 1920 voter-turnout stats above come from). “We also get the Cable Act, which says that if you’re a woman and you marry a foreigner, you don’t immediately lose your American citizenship. And then it turned out that women didn’t vote that differently than men and most of them stayed home, so politicians decided that they weren’t really a threat anymore, and so we don’t really need to pay as much attention to their agenda items. So you don’t see as much of those issues in the ’30s and into the ’40s.”

But what you do see in the ’30s and ’40s is women deploying a political savvy honed during the long campaign for suffrage, gathering and exercising a type of soft power to mold policy and shape national agendas from positions just out of the spotlight. “When we think about the impact of women’s suffrage,” Wolbrecht says, “an obvious focus is outcomes of elections. But we also might ask about something we would call in political science the second face of power. One face of power is, something is being debated and you can determine the winner or the loser. The second face of power is just getting that thing to be talked about in public life, to be on the political agenda. And by becoming voters, women had more power to influence the political agenda.”

Ware offers the Social Security Act as an example of this sort of exercise of soft power. “The secretary of labor at the time that was passed was Frances Perkins, the first woman to serve in the cabinet,” she says. “And Frances Perkins was a former suffragist.” (In fact, so pervasive was Perkins’s influence on the blossoming of social programs during the FDR administration that Collier’s magazine would later describe those accomplishments as “not so much the Roosevelt New Deal as...the Perkins New Deal.”)

But for the most part, if your hopes as a suffragist, or your aims as a counterfactualist, are to find in the early decades of women’s voting evidence that the ballot was a power wielded by women to bring about sociopolitical change, you are doomed to disappointment. “In eras where there’s a lot of traditional ‘family values’ conservatism, where men are the primary breadwinners, stay-at-home women will support the conservative party very strongly,” says Kevin Corder, a professor of political science at Western Michigan University and co-author with Wolbrecht of A Century of Votes for Women. “In countries where they introduced suffrage at a time when you had a lot of traditional values, women were overwhelmingly voting for the conservative party. And that’s what the U.S. electorate in the ’50s did.”

In fact, to the extent that there was a partisan gender gap—a measurable difference between women’s and men’s relative support for the same candidate—throughout the 1950s and into the early ’60s, it showed a tendency for a slightly higher proportion of women than men to vote Republican. That changed by 1964, with both women and men favoring Lyndon Johnson in his trouncing of Barry Goldwater and women favoring the Democrat to a slightly greater degree, a pivot that heralded what became a slowly growing schism between the sexes, driven by some combination of men migrating rightward and women leftward.

“The 1960s is also when the parties become sharply defined on social welfare,” Wolbrecht says. “One party says government is the problem; the other says government is the solution. If you’re economically vulnerable, the party that wants to have a social safety net may be more attractive to you. But even for women who are not economically vulnerable, something like 60 to 70 percent of the growth in middle-class women’s employment comes from the public sector. They are the public schoolteachers for the baby-boom kids. They’re the nurses in public hospitals. They are the social workers in all of these Great Society programs. They’re all these sorts of things that make their own economic interests much more linked to an active federal government.”

There is an insistent article of faith among scholars of women’s suffrage that goes like this: “Women” is not a voting bloc. “The category of ‘women,’ when it comes to voting, is just too broad,” Ware says. “I’ll give you two examples. One is the suffrage movement itself, where you had women who were for the vote and a lot who were against it. And the Equal Rights Amendment, where you had a lot of feminists struggling for the ERA and then you had antifeminists who were vehemently opposed to it. You have to be very, very careful about talking about women as a group and any expectation that there would be a women’s bloc; it just doesn’t hold up.” And with the passage of the Voting Rights Act in 1965 opening the electorate up to far greater numbers of Black women, it would soon become clear just how absurd it is to think that women all vote the same.

Ronald Reagan’s 489–49 electoral-vote shellacking of Jimy Carter in the 1980 presidential election was fueled, not surprisingly, by support from both men and women. What was surprising, or at least notable, was the difference in the scope of support for Reagan between the sexes. Reagan outpolled Carter among men by a whopping 55–38 margin (Independent candidate John Anderson took 7 percent of the votes); among women, Reagan barely squeaked out a 47–46 victory. Feminists seized on the eight-point (55 versus 47 percent) “gender gap” in votes for Reagan (Eleanor Smeal, president of the National Organization for Women at the time, is generally credited with coining the term) as a way to highlight the importance of the women’s vote and of promoting policies that women care about. (This came at a time when the parties were becoming distinctly polarized around some of those issues; Republicans removed support for the Equal Rights Amendment from their party platform in 1980 for the first time in 40 years.)

Did candidates take note? They certainly did, though what’s less clear is how successful they were at figuring out just what those issues that matter most to women voters are—which may have something to do with the fact that “women” is not a voting bloc. In 1984, Walter Mondale went so far as to choose Geraldine Ferraro as his running mate, the first woman ever to appear on a major-party ticket. Reagan went ahead and trounced him by an even more lopsided margin than he had Carter four years earlier, 525–13, with Mondale taking only the District of Columbia and his home state of Minnesota.

The gender gap waxed and waned, though mostly waned, until 1996, when Bill Clinton ran for his second term, against Bob Dole, and the gap ballooned to 11 percent. The interesting thing about this particular shift is what it reveals about the dynamics that underpin it. In the previous election, the gap had been only 4 points, with both women and men favoring Clinton over George H.W. Bush—women giving Clinton 45 percent of their vote and men 41. (The numbers are skewed by the fact that H. Ross Perot performed so well as a third-party candidate, taking 21 percent of men’s votes and 17 percent of women’s.) “What happens in 1996,” Wolbrecht says, “is that women become more Democratic, but it’s also that many men returned to the Republican Party.” This is an important point: The gender gap is not just about how women vote. As Wolbrecht puts it, “1996 is such a great example of how the gender gap can be driven by both men and women.”

If just men had voted in 1996, Dole would have squeezed out a 272–266 victory over Clinton

And those antipodal shifts by men, in turn, lead us to the first of our “What if women never got the right to vote?” electoral overturns: A close examination of state-by-state exit-poll numbers indicates that if women hadn’t voted in 1996, Bob Dole would have flipped the results in nine states and won a narrow victory, depriving Clinton of a second term. Here are a few other things that an all-male electorate would have deprived Clinton of: credit for four straight years of budget surpluses and the longest uninterrupted economic expansion in U.S. history; a successfully negotiated end to the war in Kosovo; and making Madeline Albright the first female secretary of state. Dole would have enjoyed Republican control of both houses of Congress, giving him the opportunity, perhaps, to achieve more in his first term than Clinton was able to in his second, so maybe he would have managed to abolish the four cabinet departments (Housing and Urban Development, Energy, Commerce, and Education) he had in his sights or to sign a bill (like the one Clinton vetoed toward the end of his first term) to allow drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. One distraction he (and the country) likely would not have faced: the impeachment of a sitting president. Monica Lewinsky would probably not have become the household name she did. And who knows what impact all that might have had on Hillary Clinton’s political career.

Of course, if that’s the way history had actually gone, all bets would be off for how subsequent elections would have unfolded—since two Dole terms means no George W. Bush hanging-chad victory in 2000, and on and on. So let’s file Dole’s 1996 triumph away in the annals of alternative history and travel ahead another 16 years to take a look at the second upset the all-male electorate would have bestowed. This one, again, is the denial of a second term to a Democratic president, with Mitt Romney snatching nine additional states away from Barack Obama in 2012 and scoring a 322–216 Electoral College win. Here are a few things that happened in Obama’s second term that might thus have vanished into the alternative-history mists: the Iran Nuclear Deal, the Clean Power Plan, the Paris climate accord. One other thing that almost certainly would have gone away if Romney had run in 2016 for his second term: the presidency of Donald Trump. (Didn’t we warn you this was a fraught exercise?)

If just men had voted in 2012, Romney would have defeated Obama 322–216. If just white women had voted, the spread would have grown to 346–192.

To illuminate the influence of women’s votes on presidential elections from a different angle, we also crunched the numbers on the opposite postulate: What if only women had the right to vote? A few highlights: Bill Clinton beats George H.W. Bush by a lot more in 1992 and absolutely demolishes Bob Dole in ’96; Al Gore wins with a comfortable 368 electoral votes (and no need for a Supreme Court intercession) in 2000; John Kerry claims a victory in 2004; Obama cruises to two terms; and Hillary Clinton actually does become the first woman president in U.S. history, beating Donald Trump 412–126 and presumably presiding this year over many joyous celebrations of the centennial of women’s suffrage.

If that litany of outcomes reinforces your belief that women have become a staunchly reliable source of Democratic votes…then you haven’t been paying close enough attention. Remember “‘Women’ is not a voting bloc”? Because a deeper crunch of the exit-poll data reveals just how consequential the passage of the 1965 Voting Rights Act truly was on the electoral calculus: It’s not “women” who, if they were the only ones with the vote, would have been responsible for sweeping an unbroken string of Democratic candidates into office over the past three decades; it’s Black women and, to a slightly lesser extent, other women of color. If the power to vote had been held by white women only, every presidential election over those 32 years would have had the same outcome, with one exception: Romney would have beaten Obama in 2012 (and by a bigger margin than if only men had voted in that election). Trump would have won in 2016 by 51 more electoral votes than he did. It’s only the overwhelmingly Democratic votes of non-white women that push the overall category of “women voters” resolutely into the Democratic column. As University of Michigan political scientist Ken Kollman pithily sums up: “Trump won the majority of white women. He got slaughtered among Black women and Latina women.”

If just women had voted in 2016, Hillary Clinton would have decimated Trump, 412–126.

Above: In 2016, nonwhite women made up 16 percent of all voters yet contributed to 26 percent of Clinton’s total votes. If just white women had voted, Trump would have won by an additional 51 electoral votes.

Kollman is far from alone among electoral scholars in anticipating the possibility that the 2020 election might emerge as a gender-gap pivot point—and a harbinger of challenging times to come for the Republican Party. “The data show that Trump is uniquely disliked by women,” he says. “And a lot of that is driven by women under 45. The partisan gap between men and women is increasing in the population as a whole, but it’s really a big step by generation. You go down in age and the gap gets bigger and bigger and bigger. And the modern Republican Party is in trouble. It’s not just that young people are being driven away from the Republican Party, which is true, but that young women are being dramatically driven away from the Republican Party.”

Heading into this centennial year for women’s suffrage, Susan Ware would find herself trying to conjure in her imagination a society where women can’t vote. “I went to my first feminist demonstration in 1970, on the 50th anniversary of women voting,” she says. “That’s not that long ago! I was born in 1950, and women had been voting for only 30 years, and that seems really bizarre to me. I haven’t found a really good way of conveying this to people, but just try to imagine a landscape where half the population is arbitrarily denied the right to vote because of their sex. To me, that’s the importance of suffrage: that we got past that hurdle.”

Ware, who has spent much of her career writing about the early suffragists, also likes to torture herself by trying to imagine what her biographical subjects would make of how far—or not—the country has come since 1920: “If I could bring my women up to the present and say, ‘All right, here’s where we are 100 years later,’ what would they think? Would they say, ‘Way to go, this is much further than we expected!’ or would they say, ‘Come on, Susan, not enough has happened.’ I go back and forth.”

One thing she does know, though, is that the right to vote, and to have a voice, is not something to be won and then taken for granted. “The suffragists needed to get women the vote, and it was a hard and a long struggle, and then it’s been up to women in the years since to figure out what they want to do with it,” Ware says. “And that process is still ongoing. And it will be going on long after I’m not here. But I see myself as being part of something bigger. And I see the centennial as being part of something bigger. I would hope that maybe you will get your readers thinking about that. And then the last line of your story has to be to remind them to vote no matter what.”

See electoral maps for all of our “what if” scenarios for every election from 1984 to 2016. Plus, an explanation of our data and infographics methodology.

Research by Henry Robertson. Data visualization and design by Morgan McMullen. Lead animation by Susanna Hayward. Photos in lead animation (“Election Results 1996,” “Election Results 2012,” and “Election Results 2016”) from Getty Images.