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      US Senate passes aid and public broadcasting cuts in victory for Trump

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      The US Senate has approved Donald Trump’s plan for billions of dollars in cuts to funding for foreign aid and public broadcasting, handing the Republican president another victory as he exerts control over Congress with little opposition.The Senate voted 51 to 48 in favour of Trump’s request to cut $9bn in spending already approved by Congress.Most of the cuts are to programmes to assist foreign countries stricken by disease, war and natural disasters, but the plan also eliminates the $1.1bn the Corporation for Public Broadcasting was due to receive over the next two years.Trump and many of his fellow Republicans argue that spending on public broadcasting is an unnecessary expense and reject its news coverage as blighted by “anti-right bias”.Standalone rescissions packages have not passed in decades, with lawmakers reluctant to cede their constitutionally mandated control of spending. But the Republicans, who hold narrow majorities in the Senate and House, have shown little appetite for resisting Trump’s policies since he began his second term in January.The $9bn at stake is small in the context of the $6.8tn federal budget, and represents a tiny portion of all the funds approved by Congress that the Trump administration has held up while it has pursued sweeping cuts, many ordered by Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency (Dog)e.By mid-June, Trump was blocking $425bn in funding that had been appropriated and approved by Congress, according to Democratic lawmakers tracking frozen funding.However, the president and his supporters have promised more of the “rescission” requests to eliminate previously approved spending in what they say is an effort to pare back the federal government.The House of Representatives passed the rescissions legislation, without altering Trump’s request, by 214-212 last month. Four Republicans joined 208 Democrats in voting no.But after a handful of Republican senators balked at the extent of the cuts to global health programmes, Russell Vought, the director of the Office of Management and Budget, said on Tuesday that Pepfar, a global programme to fight HIV/Aids launched in 2003 by President George W Bush, was being exempted.The change brought the size of the package of cuts to $9bn from $9.4bn, requiring another House vote before the measure could be sent to the White House for Trump to sign into law.The rescissions must pass by Friday. Otherwise, the request would expire and the White House required to adhere to spending plans passed by Congress.Two of the Senate’s 53 Republicans , Lisa Murkowski of Alaska and Susan Collins of Maine, joined Democrats in voting against the legislation. “You don’t need to gut the entire Corporation for Public Broadcasting,” Murkowski said told the Senateskip past newsletter promotionafter newsletter promotionShe said the Trump administration had not provided assurances that battles against diseases such as malaria and polio worldwide would be maintained. Murkowski called for Congress to assert its role in deciding how federal funds were spent.The Republican Senate majority leader, John Thune of South Dakota, called Trump’s request a “small, but important step toward fiscal sanity”.Democrats scoffed at that, noting that congressional Republicans had this month passed a massive package of tax and spending cuts that nonpartisan analysts estimated would add more than $3tn to the country’s $36.2tn debt.Democrats accused Republicans of giving up Congress’s constitutionally mandated control of federal spending.“Today, Senate Republicans turn this chamber into a subservient rubber stamp for the executive, at the behest of Donald Trump,” Chuck Schumer, the Senate Democratic leader, representing New York, said. “Republicans embrace the credo of cut, cut, cut now, and ask questions later.”The cuts would overturn bipartisan spending agreements most recently passed in a full-year stopgap funding bill in March. Democrats warn a partisan cut could make it more difficult to negotiate government funding bills that must pass with bipartisan agreement by 30 September to avoid a shutdown.Appropriations bills require 60 votes to move ahead in the Senate but the rescissions package needs just 51, meaning Republicans can pass it without Democratic support. More

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      Zohran Mamdani’s campaign proposes free childcare. Is it finally a winning policy?

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      Maggie Stockdale hadn’t given much thought to childcare before welcoming her first child last year. But once she learned the high price of full-time daycare tuition in Brooklyn, New York, she knew she had to find another solution.Now, her care duties are split between Stockdale’s parents, who relocated from Wisconsin to help out, and her husband, who cut his hours down to part time and arranged with his employer to let him bring their 10-month-old to work several days a week.“You feel fragile,” said Stockdale, lamenting that so many families have to choose between financial stability and their child’s wellbeing.So when Zohran Mamdani campaigned on a platform of affordability, proposing free childcare for children aged six weeks and older, it made her feel that the pain she and other parents had experienced had not gone unnoticed.Mamdani, the 33-year-old state assemblymember who won the Democratic primary for New York City mayor last month, has put forth a variety of kid- and family-focused ideas, including distributing baby baskets containing formula and postpartum supplies to new parents, building up mental health infrastructure in schools and closing off high-traffic streets adjacent to school zones. But what’s garnered the most attention is his promise of free childcare, a system he plans to fund by raising taxes on corporations and the city’s richest residents.As he told supporters in his victory speech: “We have won because New Yorkers have stood up for a city they can afford. A city where they can do more than just struggle … where childcare doesn’t cost more than [college].”For Stockdale, seeing these policies at the center of a major political campaign has underscored how childcare affordability is not only a core concern for voters – but also a winning issue.“It’s got so much support,” said Stockdale, also an organizer with the advocacy group New Yorkers United for Childcare. “People have started to realize that this should be a key component of any candidate’s platform.”In many ways, Mamdani’s platform responds to the surge of activism that New York has seen in favor of making childcare a public good – activism that first emerged at the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, when the importance and fragility of the country’s childcare system was laid bare. Since then, elected officials have begun to take the issue seriously, explained Allison Lew, senior organizer with New Yorkers United for Child Care.A report released from the New York City comptroller’s office this year shows the average cost of center-based care across the five boroughs was $26,000 a year, and that to afford the cost of care for a two-year-old in New York City, a family would need to earn $334,000 annually. “People are draining their savings, going into debt, borrowing on their 401ks [retirement funds],” said Lew. “You have to be wealthy in order for childcare to not be an issue.”For many would-be parents, the inaccessibility is affecting their family-planning decisions, causing them to delay having kids or to only have one child, despite wanting more. “We would love to have another, but financially, we don’t know if we can afford it,” said Nancy Keith, who is raising a 15-month-old in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood in Brooklyn. Keith says that she and her husband waited until they were in their late 30s, and more settled in their career, to have a child. Even still, they need financial assistance from their parents to afford the $26,000 a year they pay for childcare.Should Mamdani win the mayoral election in November and make his childcare vision a reality, these challenges could become things of the past, experts say.Most immediately, parents and childcare workers alike would experience improved financial security. Families would see thousands more dollars in their bank accounts every month, while childcare workers would be paid salaries and receive benefits at parity with New York public school employees.Gregory Brender, chief policy and innovation officer at the Day Care Council of New York, explains that pay parity has been a priority for the provider network for decades, making it a relief to finally see it be a legislative priority. “Early childhood education depends on a talented and educated workforce, and they need to be compensated appropriately,” he said.These family-focused policies would also improve equity in the city, as more parents – especially women – would be able to remain in the workforce. And in making the city more affordable for everyone, families from diverse backgrounds with a range of incomes would be able to remain in their communities.Down the line, such policies would also bolster the city’s economy. Collectively, New Yorkers spend as much as $15bn on childcare every year. And in 2022, families not being able to afford childcare cost the city $23bn between lost tax revenues and workplace departures as parents were forced to drop out of the workforce.“We just cannot afford to not have universal childcare,” Lew said.Universal childcare isn’t cheap. But the city has the money, said Justin Brannan, a New York City councilmember representing parts of Brooklyn and chair of the city’s committee on finance. “We have been stuck in this cycle of false austerity where we are supposed to believe that we have to choose between little and even less, and it’s just not true,” Brannan said, noting that the city’s budget totals almost $116bn (universal childcare would cost $12bn per year). “We just need to do a better job of spending our money,” he said.Implementing such a system may not be as simple as carving out room in the budget, however. Some facets of the plan – like raising taxes – need to be approved by the state legislature and the governor. Kathy Hochul, the New York governor, has already said she will not raise income taxes. Mamdani has acknowledged these challenges, saying in an interview with Morning Edition, “Any mayor that has an ambition that meets the scale of the crisis of the people that they’re seeking to represent will have to work with [the state].”Still, the ideas have momentum.New York has been a pioneer in accessible childcare infrastructure for several years, including universal preschool for three- and four-year-olds (known as pre-K and 3-K). And although many doubted Bill de Blasio’s ability to pull off his promise of universal preschool when he ran for mayor more than a decade ago, the program is now a national model. Before that, the city instituted a voucher program that enabled low-income families to access childcare for children aged six weeks to 15 years – although seats are limited. As a result of those developments, advocates like Lew say some degree of publicly funded childcare is now a “non-negotiable” for many New Yorkers.Mamdani says his campaign promises to build on those past successes. “These platform planks are rooted in very recent New York City history,” he said in an interview with the Nation. “Universal childcare is something that many candidates are in support of because of the success of universal pre-K.”New York isn’t alone in its quest for solutions to the nationwide childcare crisis. In 2022, New Mexico made childcare free for most families. That same year, Washington DC raised childcare workers’ wages through a tax on the district’s wealthiest residents. And in 2023, Vermont guaranteed financial support for childcare for all families with incomes below 575% of the federal poverty level – amounting to 90% of families in the state.Hailey Gibbs, associate director of early childhood policy at the Center for American Progress, said it’s an issue that crosses the political aisle. “Folks, regardless of what state they represent or how far they sit in the political extremes, understand that the lack is meaningful,” she said.“It’s a unifying issue,” echoed Karen Schulman, senior director of state childcare policy at the National Women’s Law Center, pointing out that even staunchly Republican states like Alabama, Georgia and Montana have created early childhood education funds.But Mamdani’s campaign is the first in the country to put children and childcare front and center – and win, at least at the primary level. “That’s pretty bold for the US,” Gibbs said. More

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      in US Politics

      Trans youth fight for care as California clinics cave to Trump: ‘How can this happen here?’

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      Eli, a 16-year-old Los Angeles student, is spending his summer juggling an internship at a natural history museum, a research project, a physics class and cheer practice – and getting ready to apply for college.But in recent weeks, he has been forced to handle a more urgent matter: figuring out how he is going to access vital medical treatments targeted by the Trump administration.Last month, Eli was stunned to get an email alerting him that Children’s hospital Los Angeles (CHLA) was shutting down its Center for Transyouth Health and Development, which had provided him critical healthcare for three years. The center, which has served transgender youth for three decades, offered Eli counseling and helped him access gender-affirming hormone therapy that he said allowed him to live as himself and flourish in school.CHLA said it was shuttering the center due to the federal government’s threats to pull funding, part of the president’s efforts to eradicate trans youth healthcare. The move has forced Eli and his mother to scramble for alternatives, taking time out of his busy summer to contact new providers and ensure he doesn’t run out of medications.California became the first sanctuary state for trans youth healthcare in 2022 and has long positioned itself as having the strongest protections for LGBTQ+ children. Now, for families like Eli’s, it feels like that safety is rapidly disappearing.View image in fullscreen“I was always worried for people in conservative states and had a lot of fear for my community as a whole. But I never thought it would directly affect me in California,” Eli said on a recent afternoon, seated with his mom at a Latino LGBTQ+ organization in Boyle Heights. “I wish people understood they’re doing so much more harm than they could possibly imagine – that so many lives will be hurt and lost and so many people torn apart.”Eli is one of nearly 3,000 patients who learned on 12 June they would be abruptly losing their healthcare at CHLA, one of the largest and most prominent centers in the nation to treat trans kids. Then, on 24 June, Stanford Medicine revealed it had also paused gender-affirming surgeries for trans minors and 18-year-olds, with reports that some families had appointments suddenly canceled and leaving other patients fearful it was the beginning of a wider crackdown on their care.Families across California told the Guardian they were exploring options to stockpile hormones, researching how to get care outside the US, growing increasingly fearful that parents could face government investigations or prosecutions, and discussing options to permanently flee the country.CHLA, in a letter to staff, said its decision to close the trans center was “profoundly difficult”, but as California’s largest pediatric safety net provider, it could not risk losing federal dollars, which makes up a majority of its funds and would affect hundreds of thousands of patients. Stanford said its disruption in services followed a review of “directives from the federal government” and was done to “protect both our providers and patients”.“This is Los Angeles – how can this be happening here?” said Emily, Eli’s mother, who is an educator; the Guardian is identifying them by only their first names to protect their privacy. “My parents left their Central American countries for a better life – fleeing poverty and civil war, and I cannot believe I’m sitting here thinking: what would be the best country for my family to flee to, as so many immigrant families have done? I never thought I might have to leave the US to protect my son.”‘This care gave me my life’Katie, a 16-year-old film student who lives two hours outside Los Angeles, started going to CHLA for gender-affirming care in 2018 when she was nine. For several years, the care involved therapy and check-ins, but no direct medical interventions. Throughout that time, Katie was consistent about her identity as a girl, which CHLA providers supported.“It was so meaningful and incredible for them to say: ‘We see you for who you are, but also you can be who you are,’” recalled Katie, who asked to go by a pseudonym to protect her privacy. “It was like, I have a future. I’ll get to have my life.”In gender-affirming care, young children may first socially transition by using new names, pronouns and clothes. When youth are persistent about their gender, doctors can consider prescribing puberty blockers, which pause puberty, and eventually hormone therapies that allow for medical transition. Trans youth surgeries are rare.View image in fullscreenThe treatment has for years been considered the standard of care in the US, endorsed by major medical groups, including the American Academy of Pediatrics and the American Medical Association, and linked to improved mental health. In recent years, Republicans have passed bans on gender-affirming care in more than 25 states, and Trump has called the treatments “chemical and surgical mutilation”. There has also been a growing international backlash against the care, including in the UK, which has banned puberty blockers for trans kids.Last month, the US supreme court upheld Tennessee’s ban on gender-affirming care for trans youth. Families and civil rights groups have argued the bans are discriminatory, as cisgender children can still receive the same treatments; cis boys with delayed puberty may be prescribed testosterone, for example, while trans boys cannot.Katie, who was eventually prescribed puberty blockers and hormones, broke down crying recounting how the care saved her. “Sometimes I think: What would my life be if I never got this?” she said. “And I just don’t see myself here. I can’t see myself at 16 if I didn’t come out and transition … Losing this now would destroy my life.”Sage Sol Pitchenik, a 16-year-old CHLA patient, who is non-binary, said the care helped them overcome debilitating depression caused by their severe gender dysphoria: “Every day, I couldn’t even get up because I just didn’t want to see myself, not even my reflection in the window. I was so terrified to look at my body.”They compared the care to the essential treatment their twin brother had earlier received at the same institution: a liver transplant. “CHLA saved my life, just like they saved my brother,” they said.Eli, who came out as trans while in middle school during pandemic lockdowns, said it was hard to return to school when he felt so uncomfortable in his body. At the start of high school, he avoided making friends: “I’m really sociable. I love talking to people and joining clubs, but I felt restricted because of how embarrassed I felt and scared of how people would react to me.”The testosterone therapy helped restore his confidence, he said, recounting “euphoric moments” of his transition: growing facial hair, his voice deepening, staying in the boys’ cabin at camp. His friends celebrated each milestone, and his mom said the positive transformation was obvious to his whole family: “It was like day and night – we are a traditional Latino Catholic family, but they were all loving and accepting, because he is such a happier kid.”View image in fullscreen‘Treating our kids as disposable’CHLA started treating trans children around 1991, and that legacy was part of its appeal for parents. “It’s not just the best place in LA to get care, it’s also one of the most important research centers in the country,” said Jesse Thorn, a radio host who has two trans daughters receiving care there.Critics of gender-affirming care have claimed that vulnerable youth are rushed into transitioning without understanding treatment consequences, and that there is not enough research to justify the care. CHLA, Thorn said, countered those claims; families have appointments and build long-term relationships with doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists and social workers. The process is slow and methodical, and the center was engaged in extensive research on the effects of treatments, he said.“The youth most in danger with the clinic closing are those with parents who aren’t sure about this care,” Thorn added. “That’s a lot of parents. They’re not hateful bigots. They’re overwhelmed and scared, and the institution means a lot.”View image in fullscreenOne LA parent, who requested anonymity to protect her trans son’s privacy, said she knew parents who traveled from Idaho to get CHLA’s care: “It really was a beacon of the entire western United States. It is a remarkable loss.”Parents told the Guardian that they were putting their children on waitlists at other clinics and beginning intake processes, but remained worried for families who have public health insurance and fewer resources.Like CHLA, Stanford has long researched and championed trans youth healthcare. The prestigious university’s recent pullback on care only affects surgeries, which are much more rare than hormone therapy and puberty blockers. But families whose care has remained intact, for now, say they are on edge.“There’s a constant feeling of not knowing what you need to prepare for,” said one mom of a 17-year-old trans boy, who said her son waited six months to first be seen by Stanford. “We all understand the pressures the doctors and institutions are under. But ceding the surgeries doesn’t mean the pressure will end. It’s just showing us our kids are seen as disposable.”Parents and advocates say they fear that other institutions could follow CHLA and Stanford, particularly as the White House significantly escalates attacks in ways that go far beyond funding threats.Fears of prosecutionTrump’s focus on California trans youth and gender-affirming care has been relentless. The president has directly attacked a 16-year-old trans track runner, with the US justice department and federal Department of Education fighting, so far unsuccessfully, to force the state’s schools to ban trans female athletes and bar trans girls from women’s facilities. Trump has threatened to withhold billions of dollars in education funding over a state law meant to prevent schools from forcibly outing LGBTQ+ youth to their parents.Perhaps most troubling for families and providers, the FBI has said it is investigating providers who “mutilate” children “under the guise of gender-affirming care”, and the DoJ said this week it had issued subpoenas to trans youth clinics and doctors.This has led to growing fears that the US will seek to prosecute and imprison clinicians, similar to efforts by some Republican states to criminally charge abortion providers. Many parents say they worry they could be targeted next.“There’s an outcry of terror,” said another LA mother of a trans child. “It feels like there is a bloodlust to jail any doctor who has ever helped an LGBTQ+ kid. There’s this realization that the world is constricting around us, and that any moment they could be coming for us.”Some families hope that California will fight back, but are wary of how committed the governor, Gavin Newsom, really is. Newsom faced widespread backlash in March when he hosted a podcast with a conservative activist and said he agreed with the suggestion that trans girls participating in sports was “deeply unfair”.California’s department of justice, meanwhile, has repeatedly emphasized that when institutions withhold gender-affirming care for trans youth, they are violating the state’s anti-discrimination laws.A spokesperson for Rob Bonta, the state’s attorney general, said Trump was “seeking to scare doctors and hospitals from providing nondiscriminatory healthcare”: “The bottom line is: this care remains legal in California … While we are concerned with the recent decisions by CHLA, right now we are focused on getting to the source of this problem – and that’s the Trump administration’s unlawful and harmful threats to providers.”A CHLA spokesperson shared a copy of its staff letter, noting that Trump’s threats to its funding came from at least five federal departments, and saying it was working with patients to identify alternative care and would “explore” reassigning affected employees to other roles. A Stanford spokesperson did not answer questions about how many patients were affected by its recent changes, but said in an email it was “committed to providing high quality, thorough and compassionate medical services for every member of our community”.Kush Desai, a White House spokesperson, said in an email that Trump has a “resounding mandate” to end “unproven, irreversible child mutilation procedures”, adding: “The administration is delivering.”Katie’s mother said she expected the state’s leaders to do more: “The quiet from the governor and others on trans rights is very unsettling. My husband and I grew up in California, went to public schools here, and always thought we’d be safe here and that the state would hold the line. It’s hard to tell right now if that’s true.”Izzy Gardon, Newsom’s spokesperson, defended the governor, saying in an email that his “record supporting the trans community is unmatched”.“Everyone wants to blame Gavin Newsom for everything. But instead of indulging in Newsom-derangement syndrome, maybe folks should look to Washington.”‘We can’t be quiet’Affected youth are increasingly speaking out. Since the news broke, protesters have organized weekly demonstrations in front of CHLA to call for the healthcare to be restored.At one recent evening rally, organized by the LA LGBT Center, families and supporters marched and chanted outside the busy hospital on Sunset Boulevard, holding signs saying “Trans joy is resistance” and “blood on your hands”, and at one point shouting: “Down with erasure, down with hate, shame on CHLA!”View image in fullscreen“We can’t be quiet any more. We’ve been polite for too long and taken so much bullshit from people who hate us,” said Sage, who spoke at an earlier rally. “I didn’t stand up just for myself or the people affected by this, but also for the trans people who came before us who still have incorrect names on their graves, who don’t have a voice.” Sage, who is now in a creative writing program, said they hoped to become a journalist.Katie, who aspires to be a television writer in LA, said she could not be silent as anti-trans advocates force families to consider fleeing: “How dare you try to drive me out of the place where I was born, where my best friends are, where the job I want to do is, where I’ve experienced my whole life? This is my home.”Eli said he didn’t feel as if he was being an activist. He was simply asking for the “bare minimum”: to be left alone and able to access basic healthcare. “Trans services like hormone therapy truly saves lives,” he said. “We just want people to be able to live their lives. I’m just asking for what is commonsense.” More

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      in US Politics

      Childcare is a hellscape for most US families. Why isn’t there a bigger push for change?

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      In 2021, Bri Adams was pregnant with her first child and began signing up for waitlists for childcare – eight, to be exact. She was thrilled when she found a spot, but was quickly horrified when the childcare shut down abruptly.It “kind of broke my brain a bit”, said Adams, a 34-year-old tech director from Falls Church, Virginia. Scrambling again, she found a new location close to the family’s home.Like Adams’s household, two-thirds of US families with young children – including middle- and upper-middle-class families who frequently command politicians’ attention – have had all available parents in the workforce since the late 1990s. Yet parents still struggle mightily to access quality childcare; large majorities say it is hard to find and afford care, and the cost of care continues to rise at a faster rate than inflation.As near-universal as these challenges are, there is a persistent and surprising lack of a mass movement demanding major childcare reforms. US parents are basically on their own to figure out solutions for their families. Adams “considers herself lucky” that she and her husband, who take home $11,000 each month after taxes, can spend more than $50,000 a year on their two kids’ childcare. Childcare remains their biggest expense, costing a whopping $4,300 a month – $800 more than their mortgage. As Adams asked: “If I am feeling such intense financial stress when we make $300,000 a year, how on earth are people managing who make so much less and have zero safety net?”View image in fullscreenOther countries like Canada, Germany and Ireland have made transformative changes to their previously inadequate systems, partly spurred on by parents like Adams. In February 2020, for instance, more than 30,000 parents and childcare providers flooded the streets of Dublin, an event credited with elevating childcare to a top-tier political issue and securing more public funding. Despite the long-broken American childcare system, there has never been a successful and sustained mass mobilization demanding the government do something to fix the problem.So what has held the US back from achieving such a program, even though polling suggests it would be widely popular for families, and a boon to our communities and economy?The historical divide in childcareThe US has long had a fraught and contradictory relationship with childcare, one wrapped up in clashes over the role of the family versus the state and tainted by sexism and racism. These tensions culminated with an epic failure in the 1970s, the consequences of which still reverberate today.For most of the 19th century, working- and middle-class families lived on self-contained farms or ran small family businesses. Young children worked on those farms or in those businesses, and childcare responsibilities were shared among family members. For families of means, beginning with slavery and continuing well into the present day, women of color have provided unpaid or undercompensated care for upper-class families, even while frequently being unable to care for their own families.During the second world war, with men at war and women taking on the manufacturing jobs at home, the US briefly created a successful, publicly supported childcare system. However, many workplaces restricted mothers from the workplace when the men returned.But by the late 1960s, mothers were entering the paid labor force in droves, representing one of the largest labor market shifts in modern American history. Organizing efforts came together in 1971 to help Congress pass the Comprehensive Child Development Act, a bipartisan bill that would have begun creating a nationally funded, locally run network of childcare centers.View image in fullscreenBy this time, however, the progressive New Deal coalition of the 1930s – riven both by the disaster in Vietnam and cultural conflicts at home – was giving way to a free-market order marked by a distrust of government intervention. The act was subsequently vetoed by Richard Nixon on the grounds that it would assert the government’s authority “against the family-centered approach”.In a span of only 30 years, while the US’s European counterparts began investing in broad-based childcare systems as they needed women to work and rebuild countries devastated by war, the United States went from considering the idea of a federally funded childcare system to entrenched opposition.Childcare as a ‘private family issue’Access to childcare has deep economic implications, and it’s also a social issue mired in cultural policies that ask: who gets to work and who should be at home watching kids? Through the 1950s, many companies explicitly discriminated against married women or mothers in hiring or retention. Popular TV shows of the era, from Father Knows Best to The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, reinforced a traditionalist view of gender dynamics around care. Even today, many parents continue to say that it is primarily parents’ responsibility to figure out how to make childcare work.Sandra Levitsky, a sociologist at the University of Michigan who has studied US care movements, explained that deep-seated ideologies were “hard to shift” and believes the leap from being seen as a private issue to a public one is “at the heart” of what needs to change for the movement to expand. “If it couldn’t happen [during Covid] – when women were literally quitting their jobs to care for their kids – what is going to happen now?” she said.On a national level, childcare has what political science calls a “salience” problem. Today’s voters say they support childcare measures, even regularly approving measures on state and local ballots. Yet very few politicians are elected or defeated due to their childcare stance.When parents get politicalHistory has shown that parents can, however, be a remarkably effective and galvanized voting bloc: parents led organizing efforts following the Sandy Hook elementary school massacre by launching Moms Demand Action, and conservative parents concerned about Covid school restrictions responded by forming Moms for Liberty. It was a bereaved parent who started Mothers Against Drunk Driving, while in an earlier era, mothers’ groups were instrumental in the fight against child labor through pamphleteering, hosting public lectures and pressuring legislators.Since the pandemic, multiple major parent organizing efforts with childcare as a main pillar have launched or scaled up, and more philanthropic dollars have flowed to the movement. The increase in childcare advocacy funding is consequential: for decades, childcare organizers have scraped by with limited resources, the equivalent of bringing a horse-and-buggy to the political racetrack.Chamber of Mothers, of which Bri Adams is a part, was formed in 2021 by a group of social media-savvy mothers incensed after $400bn in childcare funding was dropped from the Build Back Better legislation. The chamber now has dozens of chapters across the nation where mothers come together to build community, learn about public policy issues and organize politically. Another group, Moms First, developed out of an effort to create a “Marshall plan for moms” in the midst of the pandemic, and founder Reshma Saujani was the one who asked then candidate Donald Trump a childcare question during the presidential campaign; Trump’s rambling response about how “the childcare is childcare” went viral. Additionally, several philanthropic entities in 2018 created the Raising Child Care Fund, which provides funding to 20 social justice-focused childcare organizing groups. Collectively, these initiatives point to the type of energy and infrastructure that can help issues leap from private matter to public concern.The final piece that is missing is a shared vision.View image in fullscreen“We don’t have a clear definition of what the what is,” said Natalie Renew, executive director of Home Grown, a philanthropic collaborative focused on strengthening home-based childcare options. “We don’t have a shared consensus to define what childcare is and who benefits from it, and what those benefits and outcomes look like.” Renew points to the divide between groups that organize for childcare using economic arguments to support parents doing wage labor, and groups that organize for childcare using kindergarten readiness as a means to support pre-kindergarten. “But pre-K is not childcare,” Renew said. “It can be part of a childcare solution, but it’s not childcare.”For all of the challenges, we know change is possible – even on long-held social beliefs – in a relatively compressed period of time. In the past two decades, the US has normalized and enshrined into law the rights of gay people to marry and participate fully in society. We’ve also changed paternity leave from a rare fringe benefit to an increasingly expected workplace leave policy. We may have deeply held beliefs about who takes care of children, but as more generations with different expectations about who can care for their children become parents – and after the wake-up call of the Covid pandemic – we can see a shift potentially beginning to take hold.Renew, too, is heartened by the changes she has seen in childcare policies and structures at the local and state levels, advances that arguably provide a proof of concept. Buoyed by Covid relief funds, localities had a chance to invest in childcare. “We saw cities and towns putting their flexible dollars to childcare, and they became stakeholders in the conversation,” she said. And as states begin to invest more in childcare systems locally notably in Vermont and New Mexico – more localities are beginning to take notice and have seen how such efforts boost their local economies and families’ wellbeing.America’s history, prevailing cultural attitudes and an underpowered advocacy ecosystem have all contributed to the current childcare hellscape. But it’s possible that enough parents have begun to look around and ask: why is the United States making this harder than it needs to be? Real change will come when it’s no longer just parents asking that question. More

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      in US Politics

      The Rev William Barber’s ‘moral movement’ confronts Trump’s America. Can it work?

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      On 2 June, at St Mark’s Episcopal church in Washington DC, people packed the sanctuary – elders in denim jackets, seminarians in collars, organizers clutching clipboards. Some had come in from North Carolina; others walked from their homes just a few blocks away. The seats were full, so the crowd lined the aisles and leaned against the red-brick walls beneath stained-glass windows that cast streaks of light across the floor.It was the first Moral Monday of the summer – a tradition of weekly, nonviolent protest that began in North Carolina in 2013 and now serves as the beating heart of the Rev William Barber’s national movement to end poverty and systemic injustice. “I am not afraid,” the congregation sang. They clapped in rhythm. They swayed in place. Their voices, layered and lived in, reverberated through the rafters: “I would die for liberation, because I know why I was made.” It was part worship, part invocation, part warning. They folded into the center of the sanctuary as they sang covenants of nonviolence – pledges to neither resist arrest nor retaliate, to remain disciplined and dignified in the face of confrontation. One organizer stepped forward and asked them to consider the gravity of what they were saying. “In every cell of your body,” he said, “do you believe that?”Barber, the co-chair of the revived Poor People’s campaign, a national movement to challenge inequality in all its forms through moral protest and policy change, has spent years preparing people for moments like this. Barber draws on a tradition that views justice as a covenant rather than charity, as a sacred demand to confront moral rot. Right now, that means challenging the Trump administration’s second-term agenda – and the Republican-controlled Congress advancing legislation that would slash Medicaid, food assistance and public education, while simultaneously giving tax breaks to some of the wealthiest Americans – or what Barber has simply called “policy murder”, a wholesale dismantling of services for the poor and vulnerable.But Barber’s battle is both a moral rebellion against Trump’s America and against the deeper architecture of inequality that has survived every administration. His movement doesn’t simply resist a president. It challenges a political theology that weds nationalism to capitalism and cloaks exploitation in scripture. In Barber’s view, Trump isn’t the disease – he’s the symptom of a nation that never fully confronted its sins. “Jesus was not crucified because he was just talking about private sin,” he told me. “He was crucified because he turned over the money tables. That’s where government and religion had come into an unholy relationship, and were robbing from the poor.”View image in fullscreenIn a sermon the day before, Barber had turned to 2 Kings – to four lepers outside a besieged city, caught between certain death and uncertain deliverance. “Why sit we here until we die?” they ask, before rising to move toward the enemy camp. That movement, Barber reminded his audience, is what made the miracle possible. The lepers rose to risk the unknown and found the enemy had already left, leaving behind food, shelter and silver. Deliverance had already come; it just took the marginalized to move first. The US is in its own such moment, Barber said. “This is murder by policy,” he preached, pointing to the $1.1tn in proposed cuts to healthcare, food aid and climate infrastructure. “We cannot stay here and die.”Organizers passed protest signs around the sanctuary like communion: Fund Life, Not Death. Our Faith Demands Justice, Not Policy Murder. Handouts followed: 13.7 million people are at risk of losing health insurance. Eleven million at risk of losing food assistance. Billions redirected from public programs to tax breaks for corporations, defense contractors and deportation forces. Congress was deliberating over what Barber calls a “big, bad, ugly, disgusting, deadly budget”, and they wanted to take a moral stand.The room was intentionally diverse – it’s what Barber calls a fusion movement, rooted in the idea that poor and working people across race, religion and region have a moral force capable of reshaping the nation. They prayed. They assigned roles. Some would march. Some would risk arrest. All would bear witness. Slowly, deliberately, the congregation began to move. First, those in wheelchairs; then the people along the walls peeled off. Then, one section at a time, released with care – no rush, no clamor. They lined up two by two, like they were boarding an ark. It was a practiced procession, not chaos. The organizers had been clear: move like the black-and-white footage you’ve seen, like those who marched before you – with order, with discipline, with conviction.“When politicians and priests bless policies that hurt the poor,” Barber said, “that’s when the prophets have to rise.” For Barber, this is the prophet’s role: to expose, to indict and to force a moral reckoning in the public square. The structure of his movement’s actions, the insistence on grounding resistance in both scripture and strategy, is shaped by a long religious protest tradition in the US. Now, under a second Trump term, with safety nets unraveling and rights under siege, that witness feels urgent again. As the movement experiments with decentralized leadership, more youth recruitment and a sharper digital presence, it will have to decide: is it a movement to awaken the conscience, or to seize the wheel? Can this movement still meet the scale of today’s coordinated assault on democracy, rights and the poor?‘Silence is not an option’Barber met the demonstrators at the corner of East Capitol Street NE and 1st Street SE, where the procession paused before the slow walk towards the steps of the supreme court. He stood with his cane in hand, a white stole slung over his shoulders that read: “Jesus was a poor man.” He joined the group like a hinge between past and present. No microphone. No grand announcement. Just a nod, a steadying breath, and then a turn toward the supreme court.Passersby smiled and posed for selfies, unaware or unbothered by the stakes. The procession kept moving, members singing as they went. The air filled with hymns and the weight of memory. At the court steps, the crowd swelled; marshals implored folks to move closer. They sang battle hymns through the speaker system, a thread of the sacred pulled taut across the concrete. The day was structured to echo the civil rights movement, orderly, solemn and visually potent.When Barber took the mic, he drew on the movement’s rhetorical authority as well. “We gather here not in protest alone,” Barber said, “but in prophetic power. We stand not just as people of faith, but as stewards of moral memory. Injustice has written itself into the budget lines, and silence is not an option when lives hang in the balance of a ledger.” Barber reminded the crowd that the country’s wounds were not just policy failures; they were moral abscesses. “There can be no healing of the soul of America without healing the body,” he said. Not while people are starving. Not while they’re uninsured. Not while injustice is passed off as fiscal responsibility.View image in fullscreenHe said something similar in 2020, in the days after Biden was elected president and many people across the nation released what felt like four years of held breath. Biden called for unity; Barber pushed back. “There has to be division before there can be healing,” he said. In Barber’s theology, peace doesn’t mean calm. It means justice. False unity, he warned, is not reconciliation – it’s complicity. And that is the deeper challenge beneath Barber’s movement: not just to resist one budget, or even one party, but to confront the country’s underlying sickness: its habit of mistaking cruelty for order, and order for peace.‘What will you do with the breath you have left?’“They say they’re cutting waste, fraud and abuse. But what they’re saying is it’s wasteful to lift people, fraudulent to help them live and abusive to make sure they have healthcare,” he said. For a moment, it felt like the church services I’d grown up in. Come on, Barber! a clergyman shouted. Yessuh! a resonant voice rang from the other side of the crowd. By the time Barber started whooping – stretching his syllables as his voice reached a thunderous crescendo – the crowd had been whipped into a passionate holler.Barber told stories of movement members who died without care – Pam in Alabama, Jade in North Carolina – who called him not for comfort, but for commitment. Don’t quit, they said. “They had the courage to fight even while they were dying,” he said. “We ought to have the courage to fight while we’re living.”Then he slowed and asked a simple question to those gathered: “What will you do with the breath you have left?” The question hung in the air. He didn’t wait for an answer. A few days later, he told me why it sticks with him. “That was George Floyd’s cry. That was my brother’s cry – he died in his 60s, waiting on healthcare. That was the cry of people during Covid: ‘I can’t breathe.’ That’s what I hear when I say that,” he told me. “The breath you have left – that’s what you’ve been given. That’s what you owe.”Breath is a gift and a responsibility. “We’re not gonna sit here and let healthcare die,” he said. “We’re not gonna sit here and let living wages die. We’re not gonna sit here and let democracy die. It’s time to live. It’s time to stand. It’s time to speak. To protest. To live justice.” The line echoed down 1st Street. Whether it reached the halls of power was another question.Fusion organizingBarber has always insisted this movement isn’t built for the news cycle. “Movements are not driven by whether the media covers it,” he told me. “They’re driven by whether it’s right. You don’t build fusion coalitions because it’s sexy, you build it because it’s necessary.”The spotlight matters, though. And as the glare has dimmed since 2020, so too has the movement’s leverage in elite policy spaces. For Obery Hendricks, a professor in the department of religion at Columbia University, the tension is theological and tactical. Barber speaks from the Black prophetic tradition, a tradition that calls out injustice with moral clarity. But clarity alone isn’t always enough. “Too often, prophetic rhetoric is co-opted as performance,” Hendricks told me. “It becomes poetry without praxis.”But even when the national spotlight is not focused on the organization, that hasn’t stopped the Poor People’s campaign from lining up in moral opposition to what it sees as destructive policy across the country. “People say, where’s the movement?” Barber told me. “We say, where are you? The movement is here. Maybe you’re just not paying attention.” Fusion organizing in 2025 isn’t theory – it’s practice. Amazon workers marching with choirs in Alabama. Climate activists linking arms with veterans on Capitol Hill. Disability advocates and union reps shaping policy in North Carolina. Barber’s once-local campaign is now connected with movements across the country, from Georgia’s voting rights drives to Los Angeles’s housing struggles.Sometimes, the actions pay off. Inside of St Mark’s, I met Emma Biggs, a childcare advocate from North Carolina who had made the trip to DC for the rally. She had joined similar protests before. In June of last year, she was among those who were arrested inside the state legislature while protesting a looming childcare shortfall. The state legislature had passed a stopgap funding bill by the time protesters were released.To Vaughn A Booker, a scholar of religion and African American history at the University of Pennsylvania, though, the power of Barber’s model lies more in its moral insurgency than the results it produces. “He has this style that’s like a preacher reading out the names on judgment day. He’s not just naming problems. He’s naming people, policies and outcomes,” Booker said. “It lands differently when it comes from the pulpit.” And maybe that’s the point. In an era of institutional drift, moral confrontation remains a kind of clarity. “Moral discourse may not be a dominant mobilizer anymore,” he said. “But that was always the case. The prophets didn’t expect to win. They expected to witness.”View image in fullscreenBarber echoed the sentiment. Bearing moral witness matters even when it doesn’t automatically produce results, because failing to show up at all cedes ground unnecessarily. “A moral fight is one that you have to engage, because not to engage is to risk damage that might not be reversible,” he said. “If a group of politicians were going to crucify voting rights and crucify healthcare, then every crucifixion needs a witness.”Not everyone will be reachable through scripture, though. Whereas nearly half of Americans attended weekly religious services at the height of the civil rights movement, only about 30% of Americans do so now, according to a recent Gallup poll. Barber sees the rising suspicion of moral language, and the growing distance from the church, but he doesn’t see it as an obstacle; rather, he sees an opportunity. “Young people are not leaving the faith because they don’t want justice,” he told me. “They’re leaving because we’ve too often offered them religion without justice, and theology without truth.” So he remains committed to preaching in public, to claiming a tradition that doesn’t just soothe, but disrupts with the intent of building a kind of moral pressure. Barber believes the system has rotted at its core. It’s why he often refers to a sickness in the country’s body, a deterioration of its heart – but he also believes it has the capacity to be reformed, and is drawing on a prophetic tradition to push it towards change. “He’s operating within the system,” Booker told me. “He’s not outside of it burning it down. He’s trying to get the system to live up to its stated values.”Barber’s strategy mirrors that of Martin Luther King Jr a generation before: not to write legislation personally, but to focus enough attention on a moral crisis that the system has to respond. The marches weren’t meant to replace lawmaking, but to expose it – to show where justice had failed, and to make action unavoidable.The campaign’s futureBarber began a labored walk to the Capitol. A woman caught up to him quietly and asked if he had a moment to speak. His eyes were forward, fixed on the entrance. “If you don’t mind,” he said gently, “I’m trying to focus on what I’m doing.” She apologized and nodded, but had to say her piece.She walked beside him and told him that the A was missing from DEI – the A for accessibility. So many movements, she said, leave out people with disabilities. People who walk with a limp. Barber smirked. “Oh, people like me?” he said. The procession stopped and Barber, alongside a small group, descended down the elevator.View image in fullscreenThis is where conviction met cost. At the Capitol rotunda, the group prayed with the purpose of arrest. Suvya Carroll, a disability rights advocate born with cerebral palsy, clutched a Bible. Carroll told Barber she and her friend were there because “people like us always get left out. But we believe this movement sees us.” As Capitol police moved in, she was arrested along with Barber and five others. Barber later reflected on Carroll’s arrest in particular: “That child looked the Capitol police in the eye and said: ‘I’m ready.’ And we all prayed. Right there, in the middle of that dome. And I thought, Lord, if this doesn’t matter, what does?”The arrest was symbolic – the third time Moral Monday activists had been detained since April – but it also surfaced a deeper truth. The witness came from many, but the weight still fell on one. When Barber turned toward the elevator, others followed. And once inside the rotunda, all eyes returned to him. As questions swirl around the future of his organization, a harder one remains: how long can a movement built on moral clarity lean on a single voice? Barber’s voice remains central, but the campaign’s future may depend on how well it distributes that moral authority across a broader base. If the theology is prophetic, the structure has to be plural.Barber’s protest is grounded not in outcome, but in obligation. He’s asked: what will you do with the breath you have left? For Barber, that’s not just a question. It’s a way to keep moving. “This country gets amnesia,” he told me. “We forget. That’s why prophetic work is not about a moment. It’s about building a memory that resists the lie.” Even though he’s become a brand, he’s trying to build a witness. “I don’t want people to follow me, I want them to follow the truth,” he said.“Prayer,” he likes to say, “is never the end of protest. It’s the beginning of a demand.” That day in the rotunda, his prayer echoed through marble. Maybe it reached no one. Maybe it moved someone. But it was heard.That’s the point of prophecy. Not certainty. Witness. More

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      Planned Parenthood CEO warns Trump bill will lead to $700m loss and ‘backdoor abortion ban’

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      Planned Parenthood stands to lose roughly $700m in federal funding if the US House passes Republicans’ massive spending-and-tax bill, the organization’s CEO said on Wednesday, amounting to what abortion rights supporters and opponents alike have called a “backdoor abortion ban”.“We are facing down the reality that nearly 200 health centers are at risk of closure. We’re facing a reality of the impact on shutting down almost half of abortion-providing health centers,” Alexis McGill Johnson, Planned Parenthood Federation of Americas’s CEO, said in an interview Wednesday morning. “It does feel existential. Not just for Planned Parenthood, but for communities that are relying on access to this care.”Anti-abortion activists have longed to “defund” Planned Parenthood for decades. They are closer than ever to achieving their goal.That $700m figure represents the loss that Planned Parenthood would face from a provision in the spending bill that would impose a one-year Medicaid ban on healthcare non-profits that offer abortions and that received more than $800,000 in federal funding in 2023, as well as the funding that Planned Parenthood could lose from Title X, the nation’s largest family-planning program. In late March, the Trump administration froze tens of millions of dollars of Title X funding that had been set aside for some Planned Parenthood and other family-planning clinics.“Essentially what you are seeing is a gutting of a safety net,” said McGill Johnson, who characterized the bill as a “backdoor abortion ban” in a statement.Medicaid is the US government’s insurance program for low-income people, and about 80 million people use it. If the latest version of the spending-and-tax bill passes, nearly 12 million people are expected to lose their Medicaid coverage.Donald Trump has said that he would like the bill to be on his desk, ready for a signature, by 4 July.The provision attacking Planned Parenthood would primarily target clinics in blue states that have protected abortion rights since the overturning of Roe v Wade three years ago, because those blue states have larger numbers of people on Medicaid. Although not all Planned Parenthood clinics perform abortions, the reproductive healthcare giant provides 38% of US abortions, according to the latest data from Abortion Care Network, a membership group for independent abortion clinics.Among the clinics at risk of closure, Planned Parenthood estimated, more than 90% are in states that permit abortion. Sixty percent are located in areas that have been deemed “medically underserved”.In total, more than 1.1 million Planned Parenthood patients could lose access to care.“There’s nowhere else for folks” to go, McGill Johnson said. “The community health centers have said they cannot absorb the patients that Planned Parenthood sees. So I think that we do need to just call it a targeted attack because that’s exactly how it is.”Nationally, 11% of female Medicaid beneficiaries between the ages of 15 and 49 and who receive family-planning services go to Planned Parenthood for a range of services, according to an analysis by the non-profit KFF, which tracks healthcare policy. Those numbers rise in blue states like Washington, Oregon and Connecticut.In California, that number soars to 29%. The impact on the state would be so devastating that Nichole Ramirez, senior vice-president of communication and donor relations at Planned Parenthood of Orange and San Bernardino counties, called the tax-and-spending package’s provision “a direct attack on us, really”.“They haven’t been able to figure out how to ban abortion nationwide and they haven’t been able to figure out how to ban abortion in California specifically,” said Ramirez, who estimated that Planned Parenthood of Orange and San Bernardino counties stands to lose between $40m and $60m. Ramirez continued: “This is their way to go about banning abortion. That is the entire goal here.”skip past newsletter promotionafter newsletter promotionIn a post on X, the prominent anti-abortion group Live Action reposted an image of a Planned Parenthood graphic calling the provision “backdoor abortion ban”. “They might be onto us,” Live Action wrote.The Planned Parenthood network is overseen by Planned Parenthood Federation of America, but it also consists of dozens of independent regional affiliates that operate nearly 600 clinics across the country. In June, as the spending-and-tax bill moved through Congress, Autonomy News, an outlet that focuses on threats to bodily autonomy, reported that Planned Parenthood Federation of America’s accreditation board had sent waivers out to affiliates to apply for approval to cease providing abortions in order to preserve access to Medicaid funding. On Wednesday, the New York Times reported that a memo sent to the leadership of one California affiliate suggests that leaders there had considered ending abortion services.McGill Johnson said that there have been discussions within Planned Parenthood’s network about what it would mean to stop offering abortions. But no affiliates, to her knowledge, are moving forward with plans to stop performing the procedure.“Educating our volunteers and teams around hard decisions to stand and understand the impact of that is different than weighing and considering a stoppage of abortion,” McGill Johnson said.The budget bill and Title X funding freeze aren’t the only sources of pressure on the group. The US supreme court last week ruled in favor of South Carolina in a case involving the state’s attempt to kick Planned Parenthood out of its state Medicaid reimbursement program – a ruling that will likely give a green light to other states that also want to defund Planned Parenthood.At least one other organization that provides abortion and family-planning services, Maine Family Planning, will be affected by the provision, according to the organization’s CEO, George Hill. Maine Family Planning directly operates 18 clinics, including several that provide primary care or are in rural, medically underserved areas. If the provision takes effect, Hill estimates, the organization would lose 20% of its operating budget.“It’s dressed up as a budget provision, but it’s not,” Hill said. “They’re basically taking the rug out from under our feet.” More

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      As Trump targets birthright citizenship, the terrain is once again ‘women’s bodies and sexuality’

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      One day after Donald Trump’s inauguration, five pregnant immigrant women – led by an asylum seeker from Venezuela – sued over the president’s executive order limiting automatic birthright citizenship, out of fear that their unborn children would be left stateless.The case went before the supreme court, which sided with the Trump administration Friday by restricting the ability of federal judges to block the order.The legal drama recalls a scene a century and a half earlier, when a different cohort of immigrant women went to the country’s highest court to challenge a restrictive California law. In 1874, San Francisco officials detained 22 Chinese women at the port after declaring them “lewd and debauched” – a condition that allowed for denial of entry.The supreme court sided with the women and struck down the law, delivering the first victory to a Chinese litigant in the US. But its ruling also established the federal government’s exclusive authority over immigration, paving the way for the passage of the Page Act of 1875, the first piece of federal legislation restricting immigration.Trump’s hardline immigration-enforcement strategy, which has focused on birthright citizenship and sparked a family-separation crisis, bears resemblance to the restrictive laws against Chinese women in the late 19th century, which historians say led to lasting demographic changes in Chinese American communities. Political campaigns of both eras, experts say, sought to stem the growth of immigrant populations by targeting women’s bodies.“What the Page Act, the Chinese Exclusion Act and birthright citizenship all have in common is the battle over who we deem admissible, as having a right to be here,” said Catherine Lee, an associate professor of sociology at Rutgers University whose research focuses on family reunification in American immigration. “And the terrain on which we’re having these discussions is women’s bodies and women’s sexuality.”The Page Act denied entry of “lewd” and “immoral” women, ostensibly to curb prostitution. While sex workers of many nationalities immigrated to the US, experts say local authorities almost exclusively enforced the law against women of Chinese descent. More than curbing immigration, Lee said, the legislation set a standard for determining who was eligible for citizenship and for birthing future generations of Americans.The law placed the burden of proof on Chinese women themselves, research shows. Before boarding a ship to the US, the women had to produce evidence of “respectable” character by submitting a declaration of morality and undergoing extensive interrogations, character assessments and family background checks.At the same time, doctors and health professionals smeared Chinese women as carriers of venereal diseases, Lee said. J Marion Sims, a prominent gynecologist who led the American Medical Association at the time, falsely declared that the arrival of Chinese women had caused a “Chinese syphilis” epidemic.Bill Hing, a law and migration studies professor at the University of San Francisco and author of Making and Remaking Asian America, said the Page Act was “an evil way at controlling the population” to ensure that the Chinese American community wouldn’t grow.The law did drastically alter the demographics of the Chinese population. In 1870, Chinese men in the US outnumbered Chinese women by a ratio of 13 to 1. By 1880, just a half decade after the law’s passage, that gap had nearly doubled, to 21 to 1.One legacy of the Page Act, Hing said, was the formation of “bachelor societies”. The de facto immigration ban against Chinese women made it virtually impossible for Chinese men to form families in the US, as anti-miscegenation laws forbade them from marrying women outside their race.Today, Hing said, attempts to repeal birthright citizenship is another way of suppressing the development of immigrant populations. “It falls right into the same intent of eliminating the ability of communities of color to expand,” he said.View image in fullscreenTrump’s January executive order, which would deny citizenship to US-born babies whose parents aren’t citizens or green-card holders, employs a gendered line of argument similar to that of the Page Act, Lee said. (The government has lost every case so far about the executive order, as it directly contradicts the 14th amendment.)In a 6-3 vote Friday, the supreme court ruled that lower courts could not impose nationwide bans against Trump’s executive order limiting birthright citizenship. The ruling, which immigrant rights advocates say opens the door for a partial enforcement of the order, doesn’t address the constitutionality of the order itself.“Birthright citizenship assumes that women are having sex,” Lee said, “and whether she’s having sex with a lawful permanent resident or a citizen determines the status of her child.”Congressional Republicans continue to employ gendered and racialized rhetoric in their attacks on birthright citizenship and so-called “birth tourism”, the practice of pregnant women traveling to the US specifically to give birth and secure citizenship for their children. Political and media attention on the latter issue has been disproportionately focused on Chinese nationals.Last month, the Republican senator Marsha Blackburn of Tennessee introduced a bill that bans foreign nationals from “buying” American citizenship. She called “birth tourism” a “multimillion-dollar industry” exploited by pregnant women from “adversaries like communist China and Russia”.Although the extent of “birth tourism” is unknown, studies have shown that it comprises just a small portion of US-born Chinese infants. Many are born to US citizens or permanent residents, who form more than a majority of the foreign-born Chinese population. (A decade ago, Chinese “birth tourists” accounted for just 1% of all Chinese tourists visiting the US.)Virginia Loh-Hagan, co-executive director of the Asian American Education Project, said a long-lasting ramification of the Page Act is the “exploitation, fetishization and dehumanization” of Asian women that has led to deadly hate crimes, such as the spree of shootings at three Asian-owned Atlanta spas in 2021.“If immigrants in this country were denied the opportunity to build families and communities,” Loh-Hagan said, “then they have less community strength, less voice and power in politics and governance of this country.” More

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      California violated Title IX by allowing trans athletes on girls’ teams, Trump administration says

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      The Trump administration has found that the California department of education and the state’s high school sports federation violated civil rights law by allowing transgender girls to compete on girls sports teams.The federal education department announced the finding Wednesday and proposed a resolution that would require California to bar transgender women from women’s sports and strip transgender athletes of records, titles and awards. It’s the latest escalation in the Republican administration’s effort to bar transgender athletes from women’s sports teams nationwide.If California rejects the proposal, the education department could move to terminate the state’s federal education funding.“The Trump administration will relentlessly enforce Title IX protections for women and girls, and our findings today make clear that California has failed to adhere to its obligations under federal law,” Linda McMahon, the education secretary, said. “The state must swiftly come into compliance with Title IX or face the consequences that follow.Title IX is a 1972 law forbidding sex discrimination in education.California education and sports officials did not immediately respond to requests for comment Wednesday.Federal officials opened an investigation into the California Interscholastic Federation in February after the organization said it would abide by a state law allowing athletes to compete on teams consistent with their gender identity. That followed an executive order signed by Donald Trump that was intended to ban transgender athletes from participating in girls and women’s sports.In April, McMahon’s department opened an investigation into the California department of education over the same issue.Both investigations concluded that state policies violated Title IX. The administration has been invoking the law in its campaign against transgender athletes, launching scores of investigations into schools, colleges and states. It’s a reversal from the Joe Biden administration, which attempted to expand Title IX to provide protections for transgender students. A federal judge struck down the expansion before Trump took office in January.The administration’s proposed resolution would require California to notify schools that transgender athletes should be barred from girls athletic teams and that all schools must “adopt biology-based definitions of the words ‘male’ and ‘female’”. The state would also have to notify schools that any conflicting interpretation of state law would be considered a violation of Title IX.Athletes who lost awards, titles or records to transgender athletes would have their honors restored under the proposal, and the state would be required to send personal apology letters to those athletes.A similar resolution was offered to Maine’s education agency in a separate clash with the administration over transgender athletes. Maine rejected the proposal in April, prompting a justice department lawsuit seeking to terminate the state’s federal education funding.Under federal guidelines, California’s education office and the sports federation have 10 days to come into compliance or risk enforcement action.The federation separately tested a pilot policy at a state track meet in May, allowing one extra competitor in three events featuring high school junior AB Hernandez, who is trans. The organization announced the change after Trump took to social medial to criticize Hernandez’s participation. The justice department said it would investigate Hernandez’s district and the state to determine if Title IX was being violated. More