Democracy in America is being driven into the shadows. Anyone in doubt need only pause to reflect on the events of June, when the military parade of the autocrat-in-chief in DC coincided with a manhunt for an assassin of lawmakers in Minnesota. Lawmakers who had stood up for reproductive freedom, as well as other progressive issues.
Let us say their names. Melissa Hortman. John Hoffman. They died by gun violence for what they believed in, and as a result of what they had worked for as elected officials. The gunman who robbed us of them also killed Hortman’s husband, Mark Hortman.
If news reports are accurate, the killer planned to target many more, including Planned Parenthood offices.
We must acknowledge that Melissa and John died in the line of duty. This, in a country where acting as an elected official serving the interests you pledged to your constituents, you would advocate for, puts a bounty on your head, especially if you are committed to reproductive rights.
As U.S. democracy is being eclipsed by lethal forces, we must look directly into the sun and acknowledge this truth: the future of feminism is now. Women and men, gay and straight, LGBTQ and trans, are in the streets talking at the top of their lungs about rights – to our own bodies, to the justice and human dignity which flow from those rights, and to the democratic processes which protect them.
“Hands Off!” signs – a staple phrase of abortion advocacy – abound, and have taken on new meanings. As in, hands off my body; hands off my health care; hands off, DOGE; hands off, ICE.
Reproductive freedom is a potent rallying cry: the nexus, even, around which many other cries for justice are assembling. And with it comes feminism: an equally powerful resource in the fight against the deadly march towards authoritarianism in the US.
It’s well known that feminists themselves have not been immune from racism, classism and heteronormative ways of thinking. As scholars have shown for decades, including myself, mainstream feminist organizations and advocates have tended to imagine gender equality through a white, middle-class liberal lens.
And historians have often excluded Black, Brown, and Indigenous women from their narratives, thereby contributing to the erasure of the forms of solidarity and equity those women and their comrades practiced in their communities and traditions.
Meanwhile, American history is rife with examples of women of color who stood up to violence and hatred. Of the many studies of civil rights worker Fannie Lou Hamer, Keisha Blain’s Until I am Free: Fannie Lou Hamer’s Enduring Message to America, stands out for its determination to make visible the sheer force of Hamer’s relentless refusal of police brutality and economic injustice under Jim Crow.
If Americans want to draw knowledge as well as strength from the futures to be found in the feminist past, they need to look beyond a strictly US history perspective as well. In her study, Scales of Resistance, for example, Maylei Blackwell shows how Indigenous women in Mexico grounded their vision in a combination of bodily autonomy and community practice.
Have a look too at Emma Mashinini’s autobiography, Strikes Have Followed Me All My Life, a harrowing account of her trade unionism under threat of death from the South African government – all in service of a better future for working people.
And with a title evoking the perpetual pull of the horizon, there’s Sara Rahnama’s The Future is Feminist. Her research documents the role of Muslim reform movements in keeping “the woman question” at the heart of public policy debate about the very future of Algeria in the brutalizing context of French colonialism – the backstory, in other words, to Algerian women’s contributions to the struggle for independence.
The takeaway here is not only the power of remembering these warriors and studying their example to gird ourselves for the struggle we face now. It is the urgency of understanding that despite the terror of the times they lived in – and of course, because of it – feminists and their allies have always had their eye trained on the horizon.
They thought and acted beyond the present because they were resolutely against the present.
When war is at your doorstep, the present is well-nigh impossible to escape. In our time, with the surround sound of social media, the present pours into our minds and psyches with a relentlessness and a velocity it’s hard to ignore or stop.
To truly move against the present, we need to pause and reorient ourselves toward the future, as many feminists have done in the past.
We need their individual example, yes. And we need the histories of the future-thinking they worked with and for.
When Fannie Lou Hamer famously said, “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired,” she diagnosed the high price she paid as a Black woman for the violence of racism and misogyny. She also declared her intolerance of the present and identified it as the threshold for Afrofuturist action.
It’s time for a feminist countermovement that rejects the anti-democratic insurgency of the present. That counterinsurgency must be rooted in a vision of a better world than the one those in power are trying to normalize today.
That future vision includes universal, gender-affirming healthcare; universal basic income; equal access to higher education; humane border policies; immigration justice; gun safety laws; electoral security and protections; and democratic agendas that prioritize the poor and disenfranchised.
And last but not least, reproductive freedom. For without guaranteed protections for the choices we make regarding our bodies, the future is the past. For everyone.
As history has shown, there is no single pathway to the future of feminism. But however we manifest it, the only way out of the shadows engulfing democracy now is to be resolutely against the present is. It’s what we owe to those who have paid with their lives for rejecting the order of things today.
My next rally sign? “Hand Off Feminist History. Hands off the Feminist Future.”
Antoinette Burton is a historian at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, and an alumna of the OpEd Project.






















image of U.S. President Donald Trump is displayed on a digital billboard in Times Square in New York on April 8, 2026.
Trump is stuck between two realities. Neither serves the American people
Normally, I worry that events may overtake a column. But not so with the Iran war.
I don’t worry about running afoul of a headline or Truth Social post from the president because what is said about the situation is no longer very relevant to the reality.
On April 8, Nick Catoggio, my Dispatch colleague, dubbed an earlier stoppage with Iran “Schrödinger’s ceasefire.” This was a reference to the famous thought experiment by the physicist Erwin Schrödinger, who was trying to explain the weirdness of “superpositionality” in quantum physics. A cat in a box is both dead and alive at the same time until you open the box. Schrödinger meant to illustrate the absurdity of the idea that particles aren’t any one thing, but a “cloud of probabilities.”
The Trump administration is stuck in a word cloud of probabilities of his own making. The war is over. The war is on. The war isn’t a war. We have a deal, but we don’t have a deal, but we’re about to have a deal. We destroyed Iran’s military. No, we left it intact. We want regime change. No we don’t. We already accomplished it. We “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program a year ago. We had to go to war in February to prevent nuclear war. The Strait of Hormuz is open, closed, or something in-between. No deal without “unconditional surrender.” Let’s make a deal!
This everything-all-at-once vibe can be disorienting, particularly since most Americans didn’t have a war with Iran on their bingo cards until the shooting had already started. President Trump didn’t prepare the country or consult with Congress beforehand because he thought it would all be a smashing success in a matter of weeks.
The miscalculation that started it all: killing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and much of Iran’s senior leadership, on the first day of the war. To “the great proud people of Iran, I say tonight that the hour of your freedom is at hand,” Trump announced on Feb. 28. “When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take. This will be probably your only chance for generations.”
I support regime change in Iran and shed no tears for Khamenei or his goons. But when you start a war by killing the regime’s top leaders, it’s not unreasonable for the remaining ones to conclude that you really intend regime change.
Khamenei was a murderous fanatic, but he was a fairly cautious one. He liked to threaten closing the Strait of Hormuz or attacking our regional allies, but he was reluctant to actually do it, fearing it would invite a regime change war. The mullahs and IRGC goons believed, not unreasonably, that if they lost their grip on power, they’d be lynched by the Iranian people they’ve brutalized for decades.
By starting with a regime change war, Trump removed any reason for the regime not to go for broke. When you have nothing to lose — particularly when you are a millenarian religious fanatic — a Persian Alamo strategy makes a lot of sense.
So Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz and attacked its neighbors.
But it turns out this wasn’t the Alamo. In the contest of wills, Trump blinked. The Iranian regime’s tolerance for punishment proved — so far — to be greater than Trump’s and that of our gulf allies. Militarily we could finish the job, but that would require ground troops and much greater economic turmoil. In a conflict Trump launched unilaterally without the prior support of Congress, NATO or the American people, Trump doesn’t have the political capital for that.
But that’s only half the problem. Trump wants the war over, but he doesn’t want to pay — militarily, economically, politically — what that would cost. So he wants to make a deal that ends it. But there is no deal available that wouldn’t come at an equally undesirable cost. Any deal that looks like what President Obama struck with the Iranians would be too embarrassing to bear. But the Iranians are convinced that they can get just such a deal, and they’re willing to drag things out as long as it takes.
The result: Trump’s in a box of his own making. He thinks he can talk his way out by simply asserting a reality that doesn’t exist. When the financial markets get nervous, he announces a breakthrough that is, at best, a possibility. When the Iranians agree to a deal that looks similar to one Obama might negotiate, Trump goes back to his threats.
It can’t go on forever. But I’m sure it’ll last until long after this column is forgotten.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.