From activists like Rose Schneiderman in 1919 to activists today advocating for the paid leave section of the trillion-dollar infrastructure bill in Congress, we've been trying to change the system.

As an athletic Jewish feminist, is attacking an uncomfortable situation assertively, but quietly, an effective protest technique?

Through Joyce Antler’s writing, I can access the work of my foremothers on reproductive rights and can follow in their footsteps.

As I familiarized myself with Emma Goldman's work, I realized that anarcho-feminist philosophy is so potent because both movements share the same goals.

As last year's election came and went and my disillusionment peaked, I recalled all of the Jewish women who fought to get the right to vote.

The Star of David and its history helps me understand the different layers of my Jewish identity; the symbol represents the different cultures we’ve embraced as part of the diaspora.

I'm no more or less Jewish than I'm Asian, queer, or just me. And so, when the world asks me, "What are you?" I say, "I am a Jew."

The woman who helped me onto the benches that day at the Western Wall helped me to begin to find my voice.

I’m the daughter of an immigrant family, and nothing appealed to my Soviet Jewish family more than the idea of invisibility.

As I look back on my Jewish feminist foremothers and their respective activist efforts, I see many parallels with Michelle Wu’s work on the Orange Line in Boston.

Mira Eras describes how a charoset bowl passed through generations of women in her family keeps her feeling connected to her mother's love for holiday traditions.

I decided that I, a thirteen year old, would convince the rabbi of my synagogue to change a rule no one else had successfully challenged.

There's a difference between being tolerated and being wanted and, for me, wearing a tallit proves that I’m wanted in the Jewish world.

"The mezuzah represents my identity as a Jewish feminist because of its emphasis on the act of welcoming."

For most of my life, I’ve felt like I’m not Jewish enough.

I’ve gathered that—to some—my presence as an openly Jewish, queer, feminist person is interpreted as a disruption that needs to be fixed.

When I stared down at my siddur for the first time, the one I would come to memorize, I ran my pudgy fingers over the fiery red woman featured on its glossy cover.

My camp shirts represent a timeline of my growth into a proud, strong Chinese and Jewish woman.

The new movement of Jewish agricultural and regenerative farming has been at the center of my identity development.

My prayer shawl, which is titled “The Garden of Eden,” was designed specifically for Women of the Wall.

My jade chai necklace has become my most prized possession as a Jewish-Chinese feminist.

To this day, I’m astounded by congregants’ enthusiasm as they hopped on weekly—and eventually daily—Zoom voter phone-banking sessions.

Since discovering subtle antisemitism in my AP Government textbook, I haven’t read any of the assigned pages.

Growing up, Victoria's Secret models represented my default (and only) view of femininity and what it means to be an adult woman.