Let’s be real for a second: if you clicked on this, you either already have a tote bag with Gloria Steinem’s face on it, or you’re here to watch the absolute trainwreck that is modern feminism trying to rebrand itself as the savior of the planet. Either way, welcome to the circus.
Ms. Magazine—the OG bible of second-wave feminism that somehow survived the print apocalypse and the rise of TikTok brain rot—just published a special issue dedicated to "Ecofeminism." And before you ask, yes, that’s a real term, and no, it’s not about saving the whales while wearing a pussy hat. It’s about the intersection of patriarchy, capitalism, and the environment, which sounds like a sophomore women’s studies seminar that costs $60k a year.
The issue, titled "The Earth Is Our Body," is a bold, unapologetic dive into how climate change disproportionately fucks over women, especially in the Global South. It’s got essays about indigenous land rights, reproductive justice tied to environmental policy, and a bunch of poetry that reads like a middle schooler’s diary after a breakup. But here’s the kicker: the internet, as always, is losing its collective shit.
Because nothing says "sisterhood is powerful" like a bunch of strangers screaming at each other in the comments section of a magazine that was founded in 1972.
First, let’s give credit where credit is due. Ms. Magazine didn’t pussyfoot around. They went full throttle with the "intersectional" approach, which means they’re not just talking about solar panels and compost bins. They’re talking about how Black women in Louisiana are breathing in cancer-causing fumes from petrochemical plants while white suburban moms are worried about their organic kale. They’re talking about how trans women and non-binary folks are leading climate justice movements in the Philippines while your uncle is still complaining about gas prices. It’s a lot. It’s very, very loud.
The cover art is… well, it’s something. A woman with a tree growing out of her head, crying a river that flows into a city that’s on fire. It looks like a fever dream from a climate anxiety nightmare, and honestly, it’s kind of fitting for the vibe of 2024. We’re all just waiting for the apocalypse, but at least we’ll be well-read while it happens.
Now, onto the chaos. The second the issue hit the digital newsstands, the Twitter/X algorithm gods ignited. The left is saying it’s not radical enough. Because of course they are. Nothing is ever radical enough for the people who think "burn it all down" is a constructive policy proposal. They’re all over the timeline saying, "Oh, you think a magazine issue is going to stop the oil giants? Cute. Where’s the direct action? Where’s the call to blockade the fracking sites? This is just liberal feminism performative bullshit."
Meanwhile, the right is having an absolute field day. They’re posting screenshots of the cover with captions like "So now they want to worship trees instead of men?" and "This is why I don’t recycle." They’re doing the whole "own the libs" routine, which is about as effective as bringing a knife to a gunfight, but they’re having a blast. One particularly aggressive conservative pundit went on a rant about how "Ms. Magazine is telling women to abandon their families to go hug a cactus," which is objectively hilarious because I’m pretty sure that’s not what the article says at all.
But the real fireworks are happening in the middle—the moderate Dems, the "I’m not a feminist, but..." crowd. They’re the ones who are confused. They’re asking, "Why is my feminist magazine talking about carbon emissions? I just want to read about the wage gap and maybe a hot take on the Supreme Court." They’re stuck in the ’90s version of feminism where the goal was to get a corner office and a divorce, not to dismantle the entire industrial-military complex.
And then you have the Gen Z contingent, who are basically typing in a language I don’t understand, full of acronyms and references to "gaslighting" and "gatekeeping" and "girlbossing" the climate crisis. They’re mad that the magazine isn’t a TikTok video. They’re mad that it’s not available as a podcast. They’re mad that they have to read words. It’s a whole thing.
Look, I’m not here to litigate whether ecofeminism is a legit school of thought or just a buzzword thrown around at liberal arts colleges to justify the tuition. I’m here to point out the beautiful, messy irony of it all. We have a 52-year-old institution trying to stay relevant by gluing itself to the hottest topic of the decade—climate change—and the result is a print edition that will probably be used to line a birdcage by next Tuesday.
But honestly? Good for them. At least they’re doing something. While the rest of us are doomscrolling and buying iced coffees in plastic cups that will outlive our grandchildren, Ms. Magazine is at least trying to start a conversation. And let’s be honest, any conversation that gets people this angry is probably hitting a nerve.
The real issue here isn’t the magazine. It’s us. We’ve become so tribal, so entrenched in our echo chambers, that we can’t even read a magazine without turning it into a culture war battleground. The environmental crisis is real, and it’s affecting everyone, but we’re too busy arguing about the semantics of a feminist publication to actually do anything about it.
So, here’s my hot take: Read the damn issue. Or don’t. I don’t care. But if you do, maybe try to read it with an open mind instead of just looking
Final Thoughts
Having tracked the arc of feminist media for decades, it’s clear that *Ms.* didn't just report on the movement—it served as its beating heart, forcing a mainstream conversation that legacy editors were too timid to touch. The magazine’s true legacy isn’t merely its archival value, but its stubborn refusal to treat women’s issues as a niche, proving instead that the personal is not just political, but perpetually newsworthy. In an age of fragmented digital echo chambers, its survival is a gritty reminder that independent, unapologetic journalism remains the most potent counterweight to cultural amnesia.