Gloria Steinem's Impact on Feminism

<p class="dropcap">T<span class="smallcaps">hroughout most of Gloria Steinem’s life</span>, two versions of her existed. Publicly, Steinem was a figurehead: the co-founder of <i>Ms.</i> magazine, a prominent figure in second-wave feminism and a target for its critics, often perceived as enigmatic behind her streaked hair and tinted glasses. Privately, she was a dedicated activist: someone who felt she had entered the women’s movement late (in her mid-30s) and spent much of her life working to make up for it. If these two identities came into conflict—the public persona and the private individual, the celebrated feminist who was apprehensive about public speaking—Steinem, who died on September 2, 2022, at the age of 92, continued her work. Her politics and her life centered around her commitment to the belief that all women are human beings deserving of equal opportunity, and that uniting around this principle could effect change.</p><p>Steinem stated she was radicalized in 1969, around her 35th birthday, when she covered an abortion-rights “speak-out” in Greenwich Village for Clay Felker’s <i>New York</i> magazine, where she learned that as many as one in three American women had terminated a pregnancy. This statistic shocked her, although she had undergone the procedure herself a decade earlier. Years later, she reflected in her 2015 memoir, <i>My Life on the Road</i>, that this experience led her to realize she had been silent and silenced. She recognized that, like many women, she had been made to feel at fault, not understanding the political reasons behind the societal restrictions on women's autonomy over their own bodies. For <i>New York</i>, Steinem wrote a report titled “After Black Power, Women’s Liberation,” one of the first significant articles on a national movement that was beginning to take shape.</p><figure><img alt="Gloria Steinem at a March for in NYC" height="437" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/media/img/posts/2026/09/GettyImages_1186362404/a5e5b7107.jpg" width="665" /> <figcaption class="caption">Gloria Steinem chats with marchers and newsmen in midtown Manhattan prior to the start of the 1975 International Women's Day March.</figcaption> </figure><p>In her article, Steinem argued that for the women’s movement to be effective, it needed to be inclusive, uniting different factions and activist groups. Throughout the 1960s, feminism had primarily expressed discontent among middle-class white women, while Black feminists operated on the periphery of the civil-rights movement, and domestic workers sought recognition from labor organizers. In 1963, Betty Friedan published <i>The Feminine Mystique</i>, a book highlighting the widespread dissatisfaction of many educated, underemployed housewives. By 1969, many activists recognized that forming alliances on behalf of all women might, as Steinem wrote, “forge the final revolutionary link.”</p><p>Feminists rallied around the idea that the personal is political, a concept Steinem understood well. Her mother, Ruth, had been a reporter and editor for a newspaper in Toledo, Ohio, and her paternal grandmother was among the first Jewish women elected to public office in the United States. Before Steinem was born, her mother experienced a nervous breakdown and became addicted to prescribed medication. Her father, a traveling antiques salesman, took the family on the road for much of the year. When Steinem was about 10, her parents separated, and she took on the responsibility of caring for her mother, who struggled with mental health issues. Steinem did not blame her mother for a challenging childhood, viewing Ruth’s life as evidence of the unequal suffering experienced by women.</p><p><i>[<a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/culture/2025/11/the-great-feminization-essay-masculinization/684817/?utm_source=feed">Read: No, women aren’t the problem</a>]</i></p><p>“The middle-class, educated and disillusioned group gets larger with each college graduation,” Steinem wrote in 1969. However, she also recognized that women for whom work was a necessity, rather than an opportunity, required representation. When asked to speak publicly about women’s liberation after her <i>New York</i> report was published, she brought a friend, Dorothy Pitman Hughes, with her. “Right away we discovered that a white woman and a black woman speaking together attracted far more diverse audiences than either one of us would have done on our own,” she noted in her memoir. She formed lasting partnerships and friendships with influential activists, including Florynce Kennedy, Wilma Mankiller, and bell hooks, and served as treasurer for the legal fund defending Angela Davis.</p><figure><img alt=" Betty Friedan, Elinor Guggenheimer and Eleanor Holmes Norton, at an early meeting of the National Women's Political Caucus in New York, July 19, 1971. " height="448" src="https://cdn.theatlantic.com/media/img/posts/2026/09/h_14880501/5b6eecc76.jpg" width="665" /> <figcaption class="caption">Betty Friedan, Elinor Guggenheimer, Eleanor Holmes Norton, and Gloria Steinem at an early meeting of the National Women's Political Caucus in New York, July 19, 1971.</figcaption> </figure><p>At the end of 1971, Steinem, along with a collective of writers and editors, launched <i>Ms.</i>, a magazine that debuted as a 40-page insert in <i>New York</i>. The idea for a feminist publication emerged during discussions among movement members who expressed frustration over the lack of meaningful stories about women in mainstream media. Steinem proposed a newsletter, while Brenda Feigen suggested a glossy magazine, a format that could appeal to women not already aligned with the feminist cause. From the outset, there were divisions between those who saw the potential of a mainstream feminist magazine and those who preferred a more radical approach. “We came out against marriage and motherhood,” feminist writer Vivian Gornick recalled in a 2011 oral history of <i>Ms.</i>. “Gloria was uptown; we were downtown. She hung out with Establishment figures; we had only ourselves.” Steinem later countered that her uptown residence was due to financial constraints and noted that she never had children, humorously stating that she married in 2000, at the age of 66, to assist her husband’s immigration status; he passed away from cancer three years later.</p><p>The first full issue of <i>Ms.</i>, published in January 1972, featured an image of the Hindu goddess Kali reimagined as a housewife, each of her eight arms holding a different household item while tears streamed down her face. The issue included articles on sisterhood among feminists, raising children without adhering to traditional gender roles, and a groundbreaking statement signed by 53 women, including Steinem, Anaïs Nin, and Billie Jean King, acknowledging their abortions. All 300,000 printed copies sold out in eight days, and the magazine received a flood of letters. It faced ridicule in mainstream publications, on television news, and even from President Richard Nixon, who was recorded disparaging Steinem to Henry Kissinger.</p><p>Those positioned as figureheads often face accusations of grandiosity, but the hostility directed at Steinem during the 1970s and 1980s was particularly intense. In 1963, while establishing herself as a freelance writer, she worked undercover at <i>Playboy</i>’s Bunny Club in Manhattan, exposing the internal gynecological examinations and harassment women endured under poor working conditions. This report garnered attention but also led some to view Steinem as a lightweight who relied on her looks for success. As <i>Ms.</i> struggled to attract advertisements, Steinem was compelled to fundraise to sustain the magazine, which frustrated some other women in the movement. Her aloof demeanor—she concealed her face behind her hair due to sensitivity about her appearance—also fueled criticism. “Gloria has all the irritating qualities of a saint,” Liz Smith remarked in 1971, according to <i>Vanity Fair</i>. By 1975, radical feminists distanced themselves from <i>Ms.</i>, whose politics writer Ellen Willis described as “a mushy, sentimental idea of sisterhood designed to obscure political conflicts between women.”</p><p><i>[<a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2017/10/history-of-the-playboy-bunny-suit/541929/?utm_source=feed">Read: The surprising tale of the bunny suit</a>]</i></p><p>In her memoir, Steinem reflected on the decades of what a <i>Ms.</i> article termed “trashing,” or “the dark side of sisterhood.” She noted that needing approval is “a female cultural disease, and often a sign of doing the wrong thing.” Discussions of feminist infighting often obscure the significant achievements of the women’s liberation movement during the 1970s: landmark legal victories regarding reproductive rights, workplace discrimination, and access to education; the establishment of numerous shelters for domestic abuse victims; and the passage of the Equal Rights Amendment, despite its failure to be ratified.</p><p>For Steinem, the most significant moment in her life was the 1977 National Women’s Conference in Houston, which she later described as “the most important event nobody knows about.” In 1971, she collaborated with three female representatives—Bella Abzug, Shirley Chisholm, and Patsy Mink—to establish the National Political Women’s Caucus. At the conference, Abzug enlisted their help to support the creation of an official platform for women in America, voted on by delegates from diverse groups nationwide. Steinem was asked to be a “token” by groups from the Minority Women’s Plank to document their concerns and draft language for a unified platform. “Before Houston, I had known that women in small groups could be courageous and loyal to each other and respect each other’s differences,” Steinem recalled in her 2015 memoir. “After Houston, I’d learned that women could do this in large numbers, across chasms of difference, and for serious purpose.” She regarded her role at the conference as her proudest achievement.</p><p>Throughout her life and career as an activist and writer, Steinem maintained her belief in the potential of women to find common ground. “We are linked,” she stated, “not ranked.” She believed that true feminism would ultimately benefit everyone, including men. She emphasized the importance of in-person meetings for fostering change and building community. Steinem continued to host “talking circles” at her home into her 90s, discussing topics such as reproductive health, inclusivity, and AI over the past year. She placed her apartment in a trust to ensure her work could continue in the future. Steinem viewed herself primarily as an activist rather than a theorist and believed that the diversity within the women’s movement was its strength. “I think I’ve wasted some of my time, but used most of it well, and have realized that my life is not separate from other people’s lives or from the universe,” Steinem told <i>Interview</i> in 2011. “I think our moments of happiness really come from a feeling of unity.”</p>