The magic of Gloria’s living room

September 3, 2026

“I learn while I’m listening” ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

September 3, 2026

Dearest Meteor readers,

I’ve spent all day thinking about feminist icon and beloved Meteor fairy godmother Gloria Steinem, who died yesterday at the age of 92. I must admit that unlike my colleagues here, I was slow to get acquainted with her brilliance: As the daughter of a radical feminist who wrote a scathing resignation letter to Ms. in 1975, I never felt a natural connection. And I figured Steinem had gotten enough shine for a lifetime.

But I later realized that her larger-than-life status had prevented me from appreciating the far more complex—and radical—woman she actually was, a journalist who changed with the times and genuinely made space for the next generation (as evidenced by my social media feed today, which is filled with sweet pictures of her with my feminist contemporaries). I’ll always regret not meeting her.

Today, Cindi Leive remembers her friend, whose living room was the site of The Meteor’s first editorial meeting. And we point you toward Gloria’s own writing—worth reading, because it’s never too late.

Basking in Gloria’s shine,

Nona Willis Aronowitz

THE ROOM WHERE IT HAPPENS (FOR SIX DECADES): A GATHERING WITH THE METEOR AND FRIENDS IN GLORIA’S LIVING ROOM, AUGUST 2024. GLORIA’S FOUNDATION WILL CONTINUE THE WORK.

G-L-O-R-I-A

She was a rockstar and a backup singer

BY CINDI LEIVE

The first time I met Gloria Steinem was in her living room—yes, that living room, the same one you’ve seen all over Instagram, with its wild pillows and Indian artwork and marigold walls; the living room that Gloria for six decades has invited “talking circles” of women into, convinced that the best ideas happen when people are in a room together.

This was the mid-1990s. I’d been a fan of Ms., the legendary magazine Gloria co-founded, as a kid—my mom had a subscription which I regularly stole, and, fun fact, I ordered my first fake ID from its back pages. Then, as a baby editor at Glamour, I read Gloria’s “Sex, Lies and Advertising” essay in Ms. and began to understand why there were so many pages in most women’s titles about makeup and so few about the kinds of things my friends and I talked about over dinner: money, and birth control, and the books we were reading. My fandom grew.

So my friend Amy Richards, who worked with Gloria, invited me to a dinner party at her boss’s house. I brought a notebook, ready to scribble down the feminist nuggets of wisdom I was sure Gloria would spend the evening dispensing as we, her disciples, gathered round. But my main memory of the night is that she did not hold court—instead, she went around the room and asked us to. As she later put it, “I don’t learn while I’m talking. I learn while I’m listening.”

And that was always true: As the years passed and I got to know her, she always, unfailingly, listened. It made her an excellent journalist and an even better human. During my time as editor-in-chief of Glamour, we honored her as a Woman of the Year—and she wanted most to meet the young activists in the audience and hear what they were working on. She also listened differently: Once she was speaking on a panel I was organizing and a baby was wailing in the audience. I was growing frantic and uncharitable at the noise. Then Gloria took the mic. “Is there any better sound than a baby crying?” she asked. “That’s hope.”

There are so many things to say about her today: That before anything, she was a gifted writer; for every zinger of hers you may know (“The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off”) there is also a beautifully crafted essay (see below). That she believed firmly that humans are social animals (I remember her once rolling her eyes when I used the common phrase “We have to have hard conversations”—“No!” she exclaimed. “We learn from joy.”). That she was a prolific reader and could make connections between foreign policy, Greek mythology and Native culture. That she was funny, with a knack for grand gestures (when The New York Times finally and very belatedly adopted “Ms.” as a term for women, replacing “Miss” and “Mrs.”, she delivered flowers to the publisher in the newsroom). That she could swear: “fanfuckingtastic” was a high compliment.

And that she was brilliant: When the group of us who would become The Meteor had our first editorial ideas meeting in her living room just before the pandemic—her idea, because “I love an editorial meeting”—she brought up the fact that Bill Cosby and Jeffrey Epstein lived on the same block in her neighborhood. “We should go protest!” she said. (I still regret that we didn’t do this.)

LIFELONG FRIENDS GLORIA STEINEM AND DOROTHY PITMAN HUGHES. YOU MAY KNOW THE EARLIER VERSION OF THIS PHOTOGRAPH, BUT THE 2013 RECREATION IS *CHEF’S KISS*. CREDIT: DANIEL BAGAN, VIA CITY OF THE MUSEUM OF NEW YORK

In August 2024, just as Kamala Harris began her race for president, The Meteor gathered a group of women journalists, media types and advocates in Gloria’s living room. There was an cautiously exuberant vibe, especially as Gloria remembered Shirley Chisholm’s epic 1972 run for president. Our next gathering was three months later, in late November, but it felt like a century. Guests hugged Gloria tentatively, as if she might be fragile or despondent, the rights she worked so hard and so long crumbling around us. But she was determined: furious, but determined. “The role of the older generation is to be hopeful,” she said, “because we know how bad things used to be,” and that change is possible, if not linear. Her mood was contagious.

This morning, Katie Couric asked Amy Richards—who remained Gloria’s close collaborator for decades—how women would react to Gloria’s death at a time when it feels like we need her more than ever. Actually, “people were too dependent on Gloria” as a singular figure, Amy said. “People would say, Tell us, What would Gloria do? And she would say: Well, what would you do?”

So: What will you do? What will we do? We’ll gather, like the social animals we are, and we’ll listen, and we’ll keep going. It’ll be fanfuckingtastic.

—Cindi Leive, co-founder, The Meteor, and executive producer, Dear Ms. (HBO)

STEINEM BECAME A FEMINIST AFTER COVERING AN ABORTION SPEAKOUT. “HOW MUCH POWER COULD WE EVER HAVE IF WE HAD NO POWER OVER OUR OWN BODIES?” SHE WONDERED AFTERWARD. (VIA GETTY)