GOP accidentally helps trans kids
![]() Hey, Meteor readers, Yesterday, I stayed up quite late (9:30 pm) watching the 45th season premiere of Survivor, and my body hasn’t quite recovered from listening to Emily talk her way into the Crappiest Player Hall of Fame. But it’s always worth it to see Jeff Probst, who is aging like fine Italian wine. Drop the skincare routine, Probst! ![]() In today’s newsletter, we explain what led to an unexpected win in Montana, confront the “childcare cliff,” and share some weekend reading. Calling it an early night, Shannon Melero ![]() WHAT'S GOING ONHorse dewormers for trans rights (somehow): Yesterday morning, a Montana judge blocked SB99, the state’s ban on gender-affirming care for transgender youth—the same ban that State Representative Zooey Zephyr spoke out against last spring, leading to her censure and removal from the House floor. Many parties can be thanked for this win, among them the relentless Zephyr and the Montana citizens who showed up in force to testify against the bill. But one factor might surprise you: Republicans’ fondness for using ivermectin, a horse dewormer, to treat COVID-19. In the same session that saw SB99 become law, Montana Republicans also passed SB422, protecting people’s “right to try” experimental medication not approved by the FDA (such as ivermectin) as long as they—or, if they’re a minor, their parent/legal guardian—have given informed consent. Now listen: Is using ivermectin to treat COVID-19 safe? Survey says no. But in the interest of bodily autonomy, and as someone who’s been receiving gender-affirming medical care for some time now, I’m all for a “you do yours, I’ll do mine” policy when it comes to what we choose to put in our bodies. So why, for these legislators, does informed consent and the “right to try” medication apply to one drug but not another? Zephyr noted this glaring hypocrisy back when SB422 was first introduced. Thankfully, the court agreed: Missoula County District Judge Jason Marks, who was appointed by a Democratic governor, wrote in his decision yesterday that these two laws together allow parents to give consent for their child’s medical treatments “regardless of efficacy or risk…unless the minor is transgender.” He ended up concluding the same thing Zephyr did: that “the purported purpose given for SB99 is disingenuous.” Right wing legislators’ cherry-picking embrace of bodily autonomy is well-documented; they love it when it comes to the right to refuse vaccines or wearing masks, but hate it when it comes to any right exercised by trans or pregnant people. So it’s a real treat to see that, for once, the courts aren’t buying it. —Bailey Wayne Hundl AND:
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![]() WEEKEND READS
On censorship: In America, most book bans are driven by a group of 11 people. Jennifer Petersen, a Virginia mom, is one of them. She has already challenged 73 books—and she has no plans to stop. (The Washington Post) On gender politics: Women and children who fled Afghanistan have been denied entry to the United States in astounding numbers. One family tells their story. (Slate) On the floor: Get ready for the literal Olympics of breakdancing. (The Athletic) ![]() FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Subscribe using their unique share code or snag your own copy, sent Tuesdays and Thursdays.
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Half of organized workers are women
![]() September 26, 2023 Hey there, Meteor readers, Many, many people in my life have inquired and I want to confirm to all of them—and you—that yes, I did see that Taylor Swift was at Sunday’s Kansas City Chiefs game. Allegedly Taylor is dating tight end Travis Kelce, but if you ask me, a certified Swiftologist, I’d say this is all part of a larger riddle connected to the re-release of her next album and not an actual romantic relationship. The signs are there if we just connect the dots… ![]() Today’s newsletter is sunnier than normal: We tick off labor’s recent wins, celebrate Carson Pickett’s history-making moment, and share a little good news. Yours in Swiftness, Shannon Melero ![]() WHAT'S GOING ONBigger than Hollywood: There’s light at the end of the tunnel for WGA workers! While SAG-AFTRA is still on strike, the writer’s union reached a tentative agreement with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers on Sunday after a 146-day strike. (The WGA’s board and members are set to vote on the terms today.) The agreement comes on the heels of another, less publicized victory: a WGA-backed California law that was recently passed in the state’s senate. The bill would allow striking workers to collect unemployment benefits—a pro-labor law that exists in only two other states: New York and New Jersey. If you ask us, this is a Big Deal. Gov. Gavin Newson has yet to sign the bill, but its success and timing is just the latest example of labor’s growing power. Organized labor has been flexing its muscle all over the place lately, and not just in Hollywood: President Biden joined the auto worker’s picket line today in Michigan, UPS workers won a favorable five-year contract in August after they threatened a work stoppage, and American Airlines’ flight attendants recently voted to authorize a strike. Even though the share of workers who are unionized continues to shrink, there’s still an unmistakable pro-labor energy sweeping the country. As Sarita Gupta (who oversees the Future of Work(ers) program at the Ford Foundation) remarked last week at the Free Future summit, “We’re just seeing workers across the economy organize in ways that, at least in my lifetime, I have not experienced.” Let’s be real: The president wouldn’t join a strike unless he knows it’s politically popular. And it’s popular with—and important for—women. When someone mentions “union,” many will think of dudes in hard hats, the kinds of manual laborers that Biden joined today. But that stereotype is inaccurate, both now and throughout history. Nearly half of today’s organized workers are women, and Black workers are more likely to be represented by unions than members of any other racial group. The labor movement is increasingly making headway in industries that are more likely to hire women and people of color, from retail to Amazon warehouses. These are “the exact workers that common wisdom or whatever has told us are not organizable,” labor journalist Kim Kelly told The Meteor last spring. “They are organizing, and they’re winning.” AND:
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"Parenting in America feels so nonconsensual."
![]() September 21, 2023 Salve, Meteor readers, Do you think about the Roman Empire a lot? Turns out lots of men on the internet do, and I too have to admit to frequently pondering the legitimacy of Gaius Octavius’s claim to the throne. But tonight, instead of reading through the Cesarean family tree (again), I’m thinking about The Meteor’s newest podcast In Retrospect, which launched today! Woo! The Meteor’s own Susie Banikarim (whose Emmy I stare at whenever we chat on Zoom) and New York Times editor Jessica Bennett look at how some of the biggest cultural moments of the ‘80s and ‘90s shaped our understanding of the world. Their first episode? All about how General Hospital’s Luke and Laura became everyone’s favorite soap-opera couple…but actually started off when Luke raped Laura. (There’s a lot to dissect there.) In today’s newsletter, writer Scarlett Harris talks to author Amanda Montei about her new book Touched Out, Rupert Murdoch's exit has us examining his dystopian legacy, and we share a little something about work. Retrospectively, Shannon Melero ![]() WHAT'S GOING ONDo let the door hit you on the way out: Rupert Murdoch is officially stepping down from his role as dark overlord of Fox Corp. and News Corp. after a nearly 70-year career in the news industry. Although to say he was “in” the industry is a bit of a downplay, considering that this man shaped the conservative and rightwing news landscape as we know it. For longer than I’ve been alive, Rupert Murdoch has been The News. You might think that as a journalist, I have some respectful words for this magnate who was technically an innovator. But you’d be wrong! Because Murdoch was so powerful and rich, the outlets he owned will share flowery accounts of his success and influence, painting a picture of a controversial entrepreneur. But the reality is that Murdoch wielded his influence like a machete to wreak international havoc. Remember when Fox News knowingly broadcasted election-related lies and escorted Trump to victory in 2016? Or when Murdoch pretended that the allegations of rampant sexual misconduct at Fox were just “nonsense” cooked up by his lefty enemies? Let’s also remember that Murdoch frothed up enthusiasm for the Iraq War, let Tucker Carlson peddle racist conspiracy theories, and brought us the witches’ coven that is The Fox Blondes. (I would like to apologize to any witches who find that comparison offensive. Please do not hex me.) Sadly, his exit doesn’t mean that the Murdochs’ grip on American news is loosening. Not only will his son run the show, but 92-year-old Murdoch intends to remain “chairman emeritus” at Fox. It’s giving something familiar… ![]() AND:
![]() BOOK TALKWhere Rape Culture Meets MotherhoodAmanda Montei on being "touched out"BY SCARLETT HARRIS ![]() IMAGE COURTESY OF BEACON PRESS “Parenting in America feels so nonconsensual.” That’s the thesis of Amanda Montei’s new book, Touched Out: Motherhood, Misogyny, Consent and Control, which charts how rape culture—the idea that young women’s bodies are not our own—prepares us for the expectation that we should ignore pain and discomfort in motherhood. Montei offers all-too-relatable visuals of how this manifested with her own children, who were climbing all over her like a jungle gym. That scenario, along with breastfeeding and obligatory sex, has “mothers hiding in bathrooms, pressing hands out around them to create imaginary barriers between body and world... husbands and children.” As a mother, Montei got the feeling that her “body was a play thing”—the same message she’d gotten as a girl. We spoke to her about what it means to be “touched out,” how #MeToo forced her to confront past trauma, and what it feels like to raise kids during such a fraught time in American history. For those who may not know already, what does “touched out” mean? “Touched out” is this term that has become popularized over the last decade or so online, mostly with millennial, cis, hetero, married women [and especially mothers]. Usually when we see descriptions of this phenomenon it’s “skin crawling”: that desire to jump out of one’s skin and a longing for personal space. It became a metaphor for the way a lot of us feel living in systems of power that’s like, I need a break from all these expectations and scripts and hands. A lot of the early writing around this feeling was that it’s normal and natural but it will pass. That didn’t sit well with me. Is that what led you to [connect] your experience with being touched out as a mother with the #MeToo movement and your own experiences with sexual assault and harassment? That’s how I experienced #MeToo: I was a new mother. I had been pushed out of my academic career in many respects. I was working at a daycare, taking care of a young kid while pregnant again, and I was parenting mostly alone. I was kind of watching all of this unfold and processing all this new language and the invitation to let go of the other kind of shame that comes with blaming oneself for being violated. That was a lot to respond to while having a small child, so I wanted to take the reader through that feeling because I think it’s a common experience, from speaking with other mothers. With that in mind, do you think pregnancy, childbirth, and parenting can be traumatizing? Birth can be and is traumatizing for plenty of people, not to mention pregnancy, especially now in this post-Roe era. In an American context, the terms of trauma and triggering get a really bad rap in the sense that “everything’s trauma,” but I think that’s unfortunate because we are still very much living in a time when women’s trauma and violation aren’t taken seriously. [And with] parenthood, there’s aspects that can be traumatizing. Being with children all the time…forces us to face a lot of our unresolved issues, not just about our bodies but about everything [such as breastfeeding, care work, and consent]. The stuff that we buried through addiction and other coping mechanisms. We don’t talk about that in postpartum care at all. You write about the dichotomy between the medicalization of pregnancy and childbirth in America versus “natural childbirth,” which, removed from their political ideologies, contribute to…pregnant and postpartum bodies being objectified. Can you tell me a little more about that? Childbirth especially is this ideological battlefield: It’s either this medical institution built on distrust of pregnant voices, particularly when it comes to race and the disbelief of Black women’s pain, or it’s this proving ground: In certain “natural childbirth” mentalities, we go through pain and suffering in order to prepare us to be parents, which is problematic because there are plenty of non-gestational parents who don’t go through childbirth. There’s that Nike campaign, which has this line that mothers are the toughest athletes and only the strongest survive. And that sounds empowering, but it comes from a long line of thinking that [normalizes] suffering and pushing through pain. How does it feel to have this book coming out now during such a fraught time, with the fall of Roe and the childcare crisis, amongst other things? I began working on it before COVID, but I was really working on it during the pandemic and it felt urgent because suddenly people were having these conversations that previously were radical, like giving parents money for the work they do inside the home. This is a sad and horrible time in the sense that we have this aggressive rollback of rights, but it’s also a time when more and more people want to have these conversations about caregiving, how capitalism is set up, the exploitation of women’s work in the home and how that is a major source of male power. Writing and parenting are interrelated in the sense that we want to be honest about what’s hard but we also want to create some imagined other future. That’s the creative, intellectual work of parenting. Motherhood is this unfinished territory, so I hope with this book we can see how…motherhood and family as an institution are related to these other issues around autonomy and consent and sexuality. They’re not this niche, unserious thing. This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for length and clarity. ![]() Scarlett Harris is a culture critic, author of A Diva Was a Female Version of a Wrestler: An Abbreviated Herstory of World Wrestling Entertainment, and editor of The Women Of Jenji Kohan. ![]() LET'S GET TOGETHER!Planning to be in New York on October 12? Crazy, so are we! We’ll be at Neueue House hosting Work Shift, a half-day summit exploring the ways work is changing for women and nonbinary people—and how to navigate those shifts. You can reserve your seat by clicking on the image below. Hope to see you there! ![]() FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Subscribe using their unique share code or snag your own copy, sent Tuesdays and Thursdays.
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Some men are losing their jobs 
No images? Click here ![]() September 20, 2023 Fair Monduesday*, Meteor readers, Well, it’s that time of year. Students and teachers have returned to school—or, in some parts of the country, they haven’t. I find this new school year particularly tense: My oldest niece Ezra is starting her senior year of high school In today’s newsletter we’re pointing and laughing at Ken Paxton, learning our soccer history, and spreading a little good news. Staring at Ezra’s baby photos, Shannon Melero *For those of you who are new here, a Monduesday is any Tuesday after a three-day weekend that is behaving as a Monday. Patent pending. ![]() WHAT'S GOING ONImpeachy keen: Today was the first day of Texas attorney general Ken Paxton’s impeachment trial. Why I’m gleefully watching the livestream: Paxton is a hard-core Trump ally, vocally anti-choice, anti-LGBTQ+, and last year supported a “Women’s Bill of Rights” meant to delegitimize trans women. (We wrote all about it here.) Not that these offenses have anything to do with Paxton’s trial. Paxton was suspended from his position in May after the 16 articles of impeachment brought against him by the Texas House accused him of “bribery, disregarding his official duty, making false statements, and abusing the public trust.” Astonishingly, this impeachment trial (the first Texas has had in almost 50 years) was brought against him by his fellow Republicans. Never did I think I’d live to see the day the GOP held one of their own accountable. Also making this trial soap-opera-adjacent is the fact that Paxton’s wife, Angela, is a state senator and must be present for the proceedings but cannot vote on the outcome. That little factoid is key because back in May, Angela said she would not recuse herself and was going to carry out her duties through the end of the trial. But her peers barred her from voting or participating in deliberations. Which is good news for Paxton, considering that a chunk of the evidence against him revolves around an extramarital affair. It’s like we’re living in a House of Cards episode. AND:
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Have you crossed the WGA picket line?
No images? Click here ![]() September 20, 2023 Buenas noches, lectores del Meteor, Tomorrow marks the beginning of Hispanic/Latine Heritage Month, which also marks the month the gente explain that just because many of us fall under this invented ethnic category doesn’t mean we are of the same culture. (But we do all love platanos and that is what binds us. Don’t @ me.) In today’s newsletter we identify the scabs of the writer’s strike, put the “win” back in Wisconsin, and give you some good weekend reads. Using my ancestral name this month, Shannon Lebron Valles Melero-Ureña ![]() FREE FUTUREToday, The Meteor was at the Ford Foundation for the inaugural Free Future summit, focusing on the global rise of gender-based violence (GBV). There was a stellar line-up of speakers on everything from the importance of how we talk about sexual assault to the rise of deadly laws in Uganda. Here are some powerful moments from the summit: “As a culture, we breed predation.” “The problem in this country is that we do not see sexual violence as a social justice issue…and it is. Anything that happens every 68 seconds is a public health crisis!” “Even me speaking on a stage like this is illegal.” “[The] Supreme Court [is] shifting away from a rights-protection mode to a rights-denial mode. And having done that, what is happening throughout the country are policies that are doing existential harm.” You can watch the entire day of programming here. ![]() QUE 'TA PASANDODon’t be a scab: The Writers Guild of America (WGA) has been on strike for more than 100 days. In July, they were joined by the Screen Actors Guild (SAG). As in any labor strike, both groups agreed to withhold their most precious asset: their work. Actors are also not promoting any of their projects in compliance with strike rules. But on Sunday, SAG member Drew Barrymore announced that her talk show was returning, and all hell broke loose. Is this a strike violation? Is she a scab? Should writers try to get on her show? What does this say about Drew’s values? Let’s break all that down. Full disclosure: I’m a card-carrying WGA member, so if it seems like I’m angry about all this, it’s because I am. After initially supporting the strike—even refusing to host an MTV awards show in solidarity—Drew shared that her talk show will resume production because they are “in compliance” with the strike. That term, though, is misleading, especially for viewers who aren’t familiar with how the SAG and WGA function. As a SAG member, Drew herself is in fact compliant with the strike because her show is produced under what’s called the “Network Television Code,” because this specific agreement is not what SAG or the WGA are striking over. In the world of the WGA, different kinds of writers are covered under different collective bargaining agreements. For example, as a digital media writer, I operate under “workplace-specific agreements,” which means my circumstances change based on where I work. But film and television writers work under the Minimum Basic Agreement regardless of what show they’re on. Right now, the strike is concerned with that MBA. The WGA also distinguishes between film/TV writers and broadcast news writers, even though they both work for television shows. This means the writers of Succession work under the Minimum Basic Agreement, but the writers of Good Morning America work under workplace-specific agreements. GMA is a news broadcast, which requires a different skill set than writing ten episodes of prestige television. Which group can’t work right now? The latter—which includes the three television writers Drew employs. Drew isn’t the only one making a return; other talk shows like Real Time with Bill Maher and The View will be going forward without any writers at all. Make no mistake: This is still scab behavior, but distinct from Drew’s strategy. A spokesperson for CBS Media Ventures claimed that the show would return but “will not be performing any writing work covered by the WGA strike,” which leaves the door open for hiring non-striking WGA writers and pretends that’s the same thing as compliance. If you’re finding writers to replace the ones on strike, you’re absolutely crossing the picket line—full stop. Look, I get it: At this point in the strike, writers desperately need work and it’s hard to get mad at someone doing what they must to pay rent. Still, as Drew’s co-head writer Christina Konan put it in the L.A. Times: “If you feel like you’re sacrificing three writers for a crew of hundreds, I see that perspective. But then if you zoom out a little bit more, you’ll see that it isn’t about those three writers. It’s about an entire union of 11,000-plus writers.” TAMBIÉN:
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Rolling Stone's White-man Complex
No images? Click here ![]() September 19, 2023 Hey, Meteor readers, Okay, let’s get the big news out of the way: Josh and Jackie from Love is Blind have broken up, and I am thanking all the deities that our girl Jackie is away from that man-child. ![]() In today’s newsletter, Nona Willis Aronowitz, guest editor for The Meteor, explains the fraught history behind the Rolling Stone controversy; Drew Barrymore has a change of heart; and a Michigan school board kills creativity. Love has 20/20 vision, Shannon Melero ![]() WHAT'S GOING ONLike my mama said: On Friday, the New York Times ran a truly wild interview with Rolling Stone co-founder Jann Wenner that boiled blood across the internet and beyond. Asked why his new book “The Masters” only profiles white guys with guitars, Wenner explained that neither women nor Black musicians met his criteria of being “articulate enough on this intellectual level.” (Whatever that means.) Joni Mitchell? “Not a philosopher of rock ‘n’ roll.” Marvin Gaye? Curtis Mayfield? “They just didn’t articulate at that level.” Never mind that Black artists literally invented rock ‘n roll. Not the “masters” in Wenner’s book. The reaction was swift: The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, which Wenner co-founded, removed him from the board. Rolling Stone—which has been run by Wenner’s son, Gus, since 2019—officially denounced his comments. It might be tempting to file away this dust-up as yet another white male Boomer saying the quiet part out loud. But it’s hard to overstate how much Rolling Stone in its heyday set the tone for pop culture and determined which artists mattered—and which artists didn’t. Practically since its founding in 1967, critics have pointed out how hostile the magazine can be toward women and people of color—including my own mother, rock critic and feminist essayist Ellen Willis. In 1970, my mom wrote a letter to Rolling Stone co-founder Ralph Gleason declining his invitation to write for him. Though she believed RS was “the best rock magazine going,” she found it to be “viciously anti-woman…RS habitually refers to women as chicks and treats us as chicks, i.e. interchangeable cute fucking machines.” She didn’t want to be a “token woman writer for a magazine that doesn’t print women in general.” She also criticized RS’s lazy tendency to dismiss politics as having nothing to do with the “cultural revolution” of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll: ![]() IMAGE COURTESY OF NONA WILLIS ARONOWITZ In the days since Wenner biographer Joe Hagan posted excerpts from this letter on X, several news outlets have reported that my mother refused to write for Rolling Stone. But that’s not the full story. In fact, she did end up publishing several pieces in the magazine, including 1975’s “The Trial of Arline Hunt,” a prescient account of a woman who was blamed for her own rape. My mother died in 2006, but if she were still here, she’d make a point to mention Marianne Partridge, the editor who assigned that piece and was one of several women who pushed back against the magazine’s male-centric culture in the ‘70s. Still, these women’s efforts only went so far; in the last few days, more recent stories of racism and sexism at Rolling Stone have trickled in. One former female editor who worked there about a decade ago alleged on her private Instagram account (which she allowed The Meteor to quote) that she was “treated like trash on eight levels for getting pregnant.” The problem wasn’t with the staff so much as “the policies that were either in place or made up as they went along to avoid poking the bear that was Jann”—policies, she later elaborated to The Meteor, like zero maternity leave and a strict no-work-from-home rule. Cultural critic Nelson George commented that Wenner’s remarks “reflect the continuum of thought that defined [Rolling Stone’s] coverage and why they never really caught up to rap.” Several people pointed out that magazines like VIBE and The Source were founded precisely because RS ignored hip-hop. Rolling Stone has a far more diverse (though still pretty white) masthead today. As the Wenner controversy simmers down, let’s remember that it’s often the workers who end up reshaping institutions, despite their founders’ retrograde views. —Nona Willis Aronowitz AND:
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Voices From Inside Iran's Freedom Movement
NEWS
Mahsa Amini's death was only the beginning
By Gelareh Kiazand
Today marks exactly a year since the death of Mahsa “Jina” Amini, a young Kurdish woman who had been detained by what’s known in Iran as the Morality Police for “improperly” wearing her hijab, and who went into a coma while in custody and died shortly after. Despite the government’s attempts to cover up the circumstances of Amini’s arrest, pictures of her in the hospital and the eventual news of her death sparked massive protests and set the Woman, Life, Freedom movement in motion, the scale of which took many by surprise. Tens of thousands of people spilled into the streets in around 100 cities, in an explosion of suppressed pain over years of censorship, patriarchy and government coverups.
The government harshly retaliated: It’s estimated that in the first six months of the protests, more than 500 police and protesters were killed, 20,000 people arrested—and at least six executed. Internet access was disrupted in an attempt to suppress the protests.

The brutality and murders did scare some people off the streets. By January, many acts of defiance had migrated to social media, where high school girls were dancing, removing their headcovers, and pulling down the pictures of government officials, including the supreme leader Ayatollah Khamenei. Soon, people began reporting cases of school poisonings that ultimately affected more than 1,000 girls, most suffering from breathing problems. Even though the government arrested those who carried out the so-called “nitrogen” gas poisonings, many parents suspect authorities were involved, or at the very least looked the other way.
In April, the streets of Tehran were again filled—this time with women not wearing any form of hijab, in violation of national law. The government started issuing economic fines to celebrities, business, and ordinary citizens. Small cafes with customers who refused to cover became prime targets of police harassment and closures. Around 150 businesses were shut down.
As the anniversary of the protests approached this summer, authorities are still arresting, intimidating, and threatening protesters and their families. Niloufar Hamedi and Elahe Mohammadi, the two women journalists who first reported on Amini’s death, are still under arrest and awaiting trial with charges of espionage. Seventeen more journalists remain detained.

Whatever comes next may make history. The government has taken no steps to address the movement’s cries of injustice, and President Ebrahim Raisi, who won in a highly engineered election with the lowest turnout on record, hasn’t improved Iran’s struggling economy. But voices seeking to topple the regime, both on the ground and online, have only grown louder.
Women have always been a political force in Iran. We spoke with several of these women (and one man), all of whom have been profoundly affected by the past year’s uprising. All of them have been given pseudonyms to protect their identities.
Pardis, 24, runs her family’s small cafe in Tehran. During the peak of the uprising, she sheltered injured and runaway protesters. The authorities ordered her to refuse the protesters or be arrested. She chose the latter, and was taken to prison for 24 days.
“If anyone can change this situation, it is the people of Iran. Look, I was not a political person at all; I was thinking about parties and boys and these things. I went to prison because of my beliefs—it’s ridiculous to be afraid now. They are forcing us to show a reaction to the killing of Mahsa Amini, which was not even justified. Why should teenagers be killed? I was living my life, but after these events, how can we remain silent? [The movement] has changed everything, in my opinion. Even the most distant people, the most religious people, whether they like it or not, are affected by this revolution.”

Ameneh is a 28-year-old woman from Zahedan, Baluchistan, a conservative and underserved province that was one of the country’s most active areas during the uprising. Her family prohibited her from continuing her studies at a young age, and never let her venture far from her home city. The uprising was the first time her family allowed her true independence.
“Here, the conditions are again like those first weeks. The city is very controlled. People’s phones are checked. They are very sensitive to the anniversary and scare the people so they don’t come out. People have no right to participate in the rally and the mosque.
“From the first day, [prominent Sunni spiritual leader] Molavi Abdul Hamid criticized the killing of Mahsa Amini. The people of Zahedan are very fond of Molavi and they also supported him. [As a result] Friday prayers were and still are strictly controlled, and they even put checkpoints in the city a day or two before. My brother was arrested by intelligence forces in mid-November [for being] a member of mosque security and the liaison to deliver medicine to the injured people of Zahedan’s Bloody Friday. Later they attacked our house many times and searched and took all my brother’s belongings. At that time, one of our acquaintances said that these drugs should be brought from Tehran, but it was very risky. Finally, I decided to go to Tehran and bring these medicines.
“[Growing up] I really wanted to study or dress the way I like, but it was impossible. At that time, when I said I wanted to do this, I was alone, there was no one to support me, there was no other girl like me. But now I don’t feel alone anymore and I have more courage. I see this change in both women and men.”
Soha is a 17-year-old student who is religious and attended the protests with a headscarf. For her, the movement was about standing for the freedom of women, who should not be defined by hijab. Her mother, Mitra, 54, who also is religious, joined her in the protests.
Soha: “I have never been insulted by people who don’t believe in hijab. But I have seen many times that girls who don’t wear a headscarf are insulted or made to feel insecure by the morality police or by women who are hired by the Islamic Republic to intervene in the issue of hijab.”
Mitra: “As a Muslim woman, I cannot allow them to kill people under the pretext of my religious beliefs. In my opinion, the Islamic Republic is not only not Muslim, but [also] fueling anti-Islamism. In the religion of Islam, it is not said to keep people hungry and to keep the hijab. Islam does not say kill or imprison anyone who disagrees with you. Hijab is important in Islam, but not as important as a person’s life. Was there a problem with [Amini’s] hijab from the point of view of Islam?”
Soha: “The new wave of the movement will start soon, and in my opinion, religious people will play a big role in this new wave.”
Mehdi, 19, is a student in Tehran. At the rallies, he witnessed his friend getting shot, and he himself was beaten by the security forces. He and his friends believe the forced ruling of “old men” needs to end.
“In 2009, I was very young, but I understood that people were protesting and I saw that they were being suppressed. At that time, my family was not against the Islamic Republic and my father even worked in the Revolutionary Guards, but he had seen things up close that had an impact on him, and since then, his perspective changed. So he resigned from his job. Many people who thought that the Islamic Republic had no problems realized that they were on the side of corruption. People see that this government is only lying to them and this is no longer acceptable to many. My father always said that if anyone can oppose the [clerics in the Islamic republic], it is women.
“People want stability. They want a good economic situation. A few nights ago, one of my friends told me to go to the embassy for immigration. I said that the future is here; we just have to build it.”
Rana, 35, is a teacher from Kurdistan, the province where Amini is from. Kurdistan, like Baluchestan, faced some of the harshest crackdowns. Doctors were working secretly in people’s basements to help the wounded. Many homes were open to neighbors so the community would not be weakened.
“In Kurdistan, I feel the meaning of women is different than in the rest of the country. They are raised as fighters, live as fighters, and die as fighters. Because we as Kurds have always fought for our ethnicity, this seems to have been born within the women. The slogan “Woman, Life, Freedom” [signifies] a freedom of humanity which shouldn’t be defined by what is worn or not worn. It is the freedom…of choosing who I am, bearing its responsibilities, and shaping my life through that. I feel the women of Iran are finally starting to understand what freedom can hold.”

Gelareh Kiazand is a Canadian-Iranian based between NYC and Toronto who has worked in Iran’s film and documentary industry for 12 years as well as covering stories in Afghanistan and Turkey. In 2016, she became Iran’s first female DoP for a fiction feature film, post-’79 revolution.
The Global Public Health Crisis We're Ignoring
NEWS
It’s gender-based violence—a slow, consistent, menacing reality in the lives of women, girls and gender-nonconforming people worldwide that’s been quietly getting worse, not better.
BY ANNA LEKAS MILLER
In 2015, world leaders convened at the United Nations to announce the 2030 Sustainable Development Goals. Target 5.2 was one of the most thrillingly ambitious: to eliminate all forms of violence against all women and girls in the public and private sphere by the year 2030.
Halfway to 2030, though, not only are we far from that goal—we’re regressing.
Every day in Mexico, at least ten women are killed—a rate that has more than doubled since 2015. In Iran, intimate partner violence rose 20% during the pandemic’s first few months; in Spain, 23%. And in the United States, femicide—the killing of a woman because she is a woman—has increased by almost 25% since 2014. These aren’t isolated examples; recent surveys indicate that gender-based violence (GBV)—a public health crisis that encompasses femicide, female genital mutilation, rape, online abuse, harassment, and more—is on the rise globally.
“There’s never been a more urgent time to address gender-based violence, and I’ve been doing this work for decades,” says Rosa Bransky, CEO of Purposeful, a Sierra Leone-based organization that works with women and girls across Africa. “Globally, most of the advances of the past 20 years have been rolled back, and we’re seeing both a rise of profound violence against women and a rise in women-led activism against it.”
The data points are everywhere. Pick up your phone in late summer 2023, and you might see documentation of GBV in Italy, where the gang rapes of two young girls seized the country’s attention; in Bosnia, where a man killed his ex-partner on Instagram Live; or even on a remote ice sheet in Antarctica, where women scientists report that harassment and assault are so commonplace that they work with hammers tucked into their uniforms to stay safe.
Like many epidemics, this one seems borderless, especially in our tech-fueled world. “Yet unlike any other epidemic, we’re failing to properly research it or even take it seriously,” says Leila Milani, program director at Futures Without Violence, a United States-based nonprofit. “When was the last time you heard a political candidate talk about it as a top issue? You don’t—because it’s not considered to be one.”
UNDERSTANDING THE UPTICK: FROM PANDEMICS TO “PATRIARCHAL AUTHORITARIANISM”

First, let’s be clear: even when politicians don’t always see this as an issue, the public certainly does. The last decade has brought wave after wave of powerful protests led by survivors and their allies. In South Africa, there was 2018’s Total Shutdown movement, in which women took to the streets to protest the government’s failure to deal with steep femicide rates. In Argentina, Ni Una Menos (“Not one less”) started as a massive 2015 protest after the murder of a 14-year-old pregnant girl by her boyfriend; it ultimately helped usher in major political victories on abortion and other issues across South America. In 2017, the viral #MeToo campaign became a global movement demanding accountability from perpetrators.
But while survivors’ voices still ring loud, rates continue to rise.
The reasons are complex. COVID, of course, took a toll; domestic violence rates increased by 25 to 33 percent globally, and girls left school in greater numbers, elevating their odds of child marriage and intimate partner violence.
Other global trends play a role as well. The world is facing the highest number of violent conflicts since the Second World War, in places from Ukraine to Ethiopia—and women in conflict zones are more than twice as likely to be brutalized by an intimate partner. Add to this the fact that climate change, which disproportionately impacts the world’s poorest and most vulnerable, also puts women at increased risk of violence—and Indigenous land defenders are frequently threatened with sexual violence while rarely being protected by the state.
“If you’re a woman, non-binary or trans person, you’re facing a level of risk in any context,” says Celia Turner, partnerships management officer at Urgent Action Fund, a global consortium of regional feminist funds. “So in conflict zones, of course this risk escalates. We’re also seeing that conflict is tied with climate change, so gender-based violence is often at the intersection of overlapping crises.”
The effects of climate change particularly impact Indigenous women and farming communities, who are accustomed to living off of the land. Additionally, Indigenous land defenders are frequently threatened with sexual violence, and are rarely protected by the state.
“Often, gender-based violence is seen as a private issue, but it is a highly political issue,” says Rosa Bransky, the CEO of Purposeful. “It is connected to the climate crisis and the rise of authoritarianism—just as the world is burning, so are women’s bodies.”
Undergirding all these trends is our current era of what scholars call “patriarchal authoritarianism,” in which strongmen leaders in dozens of countries have launched simultaneous assaults on women’s rights and on democracy. In the U.S., the implications have been immediate: the overturn of Roe v. Wade in 2022 triggered a doubled rate of reproductive coercion—in which an abuser sabotages a partner’s contraception, intercepts birth control, or otherwise hinders their ability to control their own fertility.
“We are confronting a global anti-rights movement that wants to set back any progress on gender equality,” says Monica Aleman, international program director for Gender, Racial and Ethnic Justice at the Ford Foundation. “And they must be stopped.”
WHO GETS HURT: “THERE ARE A LOT OF STEREOTYPES”
In order for it to be stopped, Aleman notes, we must first recognize that violence doesn’t affect everyone equally. Women of color and other communities with overlapping marginalized identities—for instance, gender-nonconforming people, or those with disabilities—experience the epidemic of violence disproportionately. “When we talk about gender-based violence, there are a lot of stereotypes and you think of ‘cis man physically attacks cis woman,’” says Paige Andrew, a Trinidad and Tobago-based co-manager for FRIDA Young Feminist Fund. “But we need to address how violence shows up for people with diverse gender expressions.”
And it shows up more viciously: While nearly one out of every three women experiences physical or sexual violence in their lifetime—a number advocates agree is a vast understatement—almost half of trans women and nonbinary people do. (In the U.S., Black transgender women are especially vulnerable; they comprise 66 percent of all trans murders.)

GBV also cuts along socioeconomic lines. “It is particularly bad in rural areas, where there are fewer resources for abused women,” says Kristen Rand, government affairs director at the Violence Policy Center. Their 2022 report found that Native women in Alaska and Black women in the Deep South—historically the most economically marginalized groups—experience the highest rates of femicide in the United States. “Along with a lack of resources for women, there is easy access to guns and no mechanisms in place to make sure that abusers have their firearms removed,” Rand explains.
Still, these stories rarely make the front pages of our newspapers—and when they do, they are often treated as “true crime” tales, says Rand. “We are constantly frustrated with how the media covers [domestic violence] as just an incident,”—rather than as a systemic public crisis that might actually have solutions.
SO: WHAT ARE THE SOLUTIONS?
Patriarchal defenses of GBV lie deep in our society—the idea that men brutalizing women is central to their gender roles, or an evolutionary fact. “The inevitability of violence—and the way that girls are taught that [it] is part of life—is one of the most violent things about violence,” says Bransky.
That said, she and other advocates do have hope—mainly because they are watching young activists pioneer bold solutions to GBV around the world. In Sierra Leone, where Purposeful works, Bransky points to a group of girls living in the rural north who used grant money to set up a reporting protocol for instances of rape and sexual violence; activists also led the overturning of the country’s ban on pregnant girls from attending school.
And government will and political leadership are crucial here. After the Total Shutdown protests, South Africa hosted a presidential summit and created a committee to end GBV, resulting in the 2020 launch of a National Strategic Plan on Gender-Violence and Femicide. In the U.S. last May, the White House launched the United States’ first national plan to combat gender-based violence. Advocates like Milani (who was an advisor) say this was overdue, pointing out that the U.S. is the only industrialized democracy in the world that has not ratified the United Nations’ Convention to End All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), nor has it been able to pass the Equal Rights Amendment.
Another solution, of course, is funding for solutions to ending GBV—something many advocates say is shockingly low. At The National Domestic Violence Hotline, calls have hit a historic high, but “at the end of the day, domestic violence will remain an epidemic in the U.S. because it is viewed as a ‘women’s issue’ and thus is significantly under-resourced,” says Katie Ray-Jones, CEO of The Hotline.
And even when funding exists, it can also reinforce geographic and social inequities, since major funders are often based in the Global North and set the agenda about how money should be spent, says Aleman. “Even when this funding reaches the Global South, it often only reaches the capitals—and isn’t easily distributed to rural areas who need it the most,” she says. “We need to make sure we’re not reproducing the colonial model in our grantmaking.”
But still—there are those thousands of people on the streets and social media everywhere from Rome to Johannesburg, showing us that they will not stop fighting for the eradication of this epidemic. Advocates say that their passion provides a roadmap that politicians and funders should follow.
For Aleman, it’s all about having the courage to treat gender-based violence like the public health crisis it clearly is. “I want us to be more decisive in our response to the anti-rights movement here and abroad,” she says. “We need to fund the feminist movement unapologetically and without hesitation.”
Bransky agrees. The solutions are known and within reach, she says, if only we listened to the survivors themselves. “We don’t need more innovation or task forces,” notes Bransky. “The solutions exist”—and they’re being led by feminist leaders everywhere.
Anna Lekas Miller is a writer and journalist who covers stories of the ways that conflict and migration shape the lives of people around the world. She is the author of the book Love Across Borders and runs a newsletter by the same name. Follow her on Instagram: @annalekasmiller.
This is part of a new series between the Ford Foundation and The Meteor. Learn more at ourfreefuture.org.

How common is gender-based violence?
NEWS
The violence that women, girls and gender-nonconforming people experience is so ubiquitous that it can take on this feeling of inevitability or mundane everydayness. But the violence we experience is shocking and it should remain so. In this series of illustrations, I use U.S. statistics about other common experiences in an effort to reawaken us to the unacceptable rate at which this violence happens around the world.
Finding a statistic to show the enormity and frequency of this violence was nearly impossible. The 31% figure, from the World Health Organization, is high—but it still vastly understates the problem because it does not count femicide, harassment or the many ways that systemic violence against women, girls and gender-nonconforming people affects their lives.
Perhaps if we see the true scale of GBV, world leaders might finally treat it like the deadly global public health crisis that it is.
This illustration is part of a new series between the Ford Foundation and The Meteor. Learn more at ourfreefuture.org.
About the artist
Mona Chalabi is an award-winning writer and illustrator. Using words, color and sound, Mona rehumanizes data to help us understand our world and the way we live in it.Her work has earned her a Pulitzer Prize, a fellowship at the British Science Association, an Emmy nomination and recognition from the Royal Statistical Society.
Sources:
- Getting a seasonal allergy: CDC.gov
- Having untreated tooth decay: CDC.gov
- Ever being bitten by a bed bug: YouGov.com
- Experiencing insomnia: CDC.gov
- Wearing contact lenses: CDC.gov
- Breaking a hip: JAMA Network
- Getting breast cancer: Cancer.org
- Getting a master’s degree: Census Bureau
- Lefthanded: Archives of Public Health

"Only Yes Means Yes"
"Only Yes Means Yes"
Cristina Fallarás on the changing tide of sexism in Spain
Last month during the Women’s World Cup medal ceremony in Sydney, Australia, the president of the Royal Spanish Football Federation, Luis Rubiales, grabbed and forcibly kissed player Jenni Hermoso on the lips in front of the world’s cameras. Hermoso filed a formal complaint amid a global outcry and a national rally against sexism in Spain. Rubiales potentially faces jail time for his crime due to a new Spanish law widening the definition of sexual assault.
Cristina Fallarás is a journalist, blogger, author of eleven books, and one of Spain’s most celebrated feminist activists. In 2018, in the wake of #MeToo, she created the hashtag #Cuentalo (Tell Your Story), which generated three million posts in just 10 days.
The Meteor’s Mariane Pearl spoke to Fallarás about the public mood in Spain, what Rubiales’ reaction reveals about sexism, and why a kiss isn’t just a kiss.
Mariane Pearl: Five days after the kiss, a defiant Rubiales spoke at a general assembly meeting of the Royal Spanish Football Federation. The audience, overwhelmingly male, began to applaud as he refused to resign. He claimed that the kiss was consensual and that Hermoso brought his body close to hers. What did you feel when you heard him speak?
Cristina Fallarás: His speech will remain in the annals of misogyny and self-entitlement. As he spoke, I became physically ill. My hands began sweating, I had vertigo, akin to this nauseous feeling you get when you walk alone at night in a dangerous place. During his speech, he pounded on the desk, screaming five times in a row that he wouldn’t resign. Rubiales wasn’t even defending himself; he was attacking Jenni Hermoso. It was a classic case of revictimization.
He also talked about “false feminism.” What do you think he meant by that?
He said this was a social assassination and that he could have given the same kiss to one of his daughters, whom he called true feminists. He claimed “false feminism” is a plague in our country. But Rubiales belongs to what I call the “boys’ club.” Members are generally white, heterosexual, older, and rich. It’s a closed circuit with a misogynistic mindset that [trumpets] virility and abhors what they call “fake” or “radical” feminism. They exchange numbers, documents, money, and women.
Still, the public reaction was huge. Even the Prime Minister of Spain, Pedro Sánchez, called for Rubiales to step down. Does the massive reaction reflect a change in Spain’s mindset about gender equality?
Rubiales’ arrogance raised a giant wave of protest in the country and worldwide, a collective “enough is enough” sentiment. This movement is a massive rebuke. [And this case is] not happening in a vacuum. Just a year ago, the government passed a law known as “Only Yes Means Yes,” which puts Spain at the vanguard of the global battle for sexual consent. It establishes sexual aggression as a crime with or without violence or intimidation.
As a result, thousands of women have come forward to denounce their perpetrators. There are 50 new shelters established by the government across the country. Our society was ready for this, but the recent rise of Vox, the far-right party, is a cause for concern. Vox programs [would] roll back decades of progress by blocking abortion access, repealing legislation on gender-based violence, and shutting down the ministry of equality and LGBTQ centers. We are vigilant, but I am terrified of what would happen should Vox win in the next elections.
Many women have reacted to the fact that what brought Rubiales down was a “simple” kiss.
The media only speaks about violence against women when there is a femicide, gang rapes, or if the victim is a minor. But the Rubiales kiss tells us that every assault matters. Laws are important, but they are useless if there aren’t visible stories—like the kiss—that are symbolic enough to start a new narrative and capture people’s indignation.
In 2018, you launched the sister of #MeToo, named #Cuentalo. Millions of women testified. And just last week, you launched a new campaign to denounce sexual violence, mostly in the workplace. Were you surprised to receive thousands of answers?
Twitter is very efficient for multiplying hashtags and giving visibility to a movement, but Instagram is different. It’s intimate. This time, people are not retweeting a hashtag; they are writing to me personally and I am answering them one by one, reposting their stories after editing them to ensure anonymity. Sometimes, when I receive a testimony, I look at the person’s account and what I see are women on the beach, pictures of kittens, mothers, and grandmothers with children. So it’s not the world of militants or even feminists; these are the women next door. This is everybody.