Grappling With the Loss of One of the Greats

Everyone seems to have a story about Gloria Steinem: That much became apparent after her death was announced last week and our feeds filled Gloria stories, Gloria selfies, Gloria anecdotes. It was a beautiful thing. The Persistent's Slack channels also overflowed with reminiscences. If she inspired us that much, what did our contributors have to share, we wondered. So we put the call out. Not surprisingly, the tributes poured in. Here are some of our favorites — a world seen through a Gloria lens.

Some of my favorite hours of the last few years were spent in Gloria’s living room as the inaugural resident of her foundation.

We had many conversations about our families and our passions, progress and regression, and the work still to be done. Every time I tried to tell her what she and her work meant to me, she turned it around and made it about us, all of us doing the work. Gloria didn’t want our admiration, she wanted us to keep doing and organizing. I’m holding onto that. As her closest collaborator Amy Richards said to me, it’s a beautiful responsibility, and it belongs to all of us.

One of my favorite memories is Gloria sharing her love of Louisa May Alcott and Little Women with my daughter, Matilda, over hot chocolate and holiday cookies. She met Matilda where she was, the way she met everyone. Gloria loved kids, and seeing her with mine I understood why. Children are philosophers who don’t just take the way things are today as destiny. They ask why it’s like this and what else it could be. Gloria did that her whole life.

Erin Grau, friend of The Persistent

I first encountered Gloria Steinem when I joined her and thousands of other women on Fifth Avenue on August 26, 1970 for the Women’s Strike for Equality. It was a very muggy and exhilarating day. And ever since, she has helped make possible my life choices.

Fast forward to August, 2016 when, as a writer at Bloomberg, I was asked to interview the very busy Steinem. Her handlers demurred, citing her crammed schedule, but she came up with a solution, inviting me to ride along with her on her drive from New York to Princeton, N.J., where she was giving a speech. During that 90-minute drive, she talked about such diverse topics as her hopes for a female presidency and the talking circle she’d recently attended with women in Zambia on how to prevent sex trafficking.

When a few weeks later, Hillary Clinton lost the presidential election, I reached out to her again and she said, “we have to remember that real change always happens not from the top but from the bottom, just like a tree. So I want women not to mourn, but to organize.

Among her many laudable qualities — wit, style, writing talent and philanthropy — it is her optimism and resilience that shine brightest for me. She knew that as women made advances, they’d also face backlash and have to fight again for rights they’d previously won — and she kept doing that until the very end.

Carol Hymowitz, contributing writer

In the days following Steinem's death, the socials were filled with people talking about the impact she'd had on them. But few talked about the impact that we'd had on her. She'd dedicated her life to removing the barriers that'd prevented one half of the world's population from charting their own courses—and to reshape culture so that it was the normalest of things for a woman to live however she pleased. 

When I heard of her passing, the first thing I thought of was how much joy and pride she must have had in recent years, walking down the street in New York, watching scores of women scurrying hither and yon — living the exact lives she'd fought for them to have. Women who took it for granted that they could have any job they wanted, rent any apartment, dress however they liked, partner or not, have children or not. Women who would've thought it was the strangest thing in the world to be told what you could or could not do. 

We, in that sense, were her dreams come true. We, in our everyday mundanities — inconsequential, perhaps, to us; but extraordinary to her — filled her heart. As much as she impacted us — we, also, surely must have impacted her.

E.B. Boyd, contributing writer 

My chance to finally lay eyes on Gloria Steinem came in the form of an invitation from my friend Laura Zelenko: Gloria would be speaking at a Bloomberg event at New York’s Park Avenue Armory, and would I like to come? Laura didn’t need to ask me twice.

It was a March night; the wood-paneled space was packed to the gills, and we craned our necks to see Gloria on the stage. Afterwards Gloria walked down the hallway, a slight figure, but radiant. She used a cane; she had a giant bouquet of flowers. I longed to take a photo with her, but stayed on the sidelines, mindful that everyone else was clamoring for a piece of her, too. My heart was full to bursting. My eyes welled up. And then, like that, she was gone. 

Francesca Donner, founder and editor-in-chief

I was predisposed to admire Gloria Steinem as a wannabe writer growing up in her hometown of Toledo, Ohio. What I didn't appreciate until seeing her speak live, though, was her patience and ability to meet people where they were at. 

We were in a small college auditorium when one of the attendees took the mic during the Q&A and talked about the difficulties of her mother's and sister's lives. I was annoyed at this rambling; where was the question for Gloria? Yet her response was considerate and compassionate, and tied the woman's experiences back to the systemic difficulties that all American women face. It's a reminder to me to really hear people who have something to say.

Emily Goligoski, contributing writer

I was lucky to be able to meet Gloria Steinem a number of years ago at an event for the nonprofit Girls Write Now. Already in her 80s, Gloria was as matter-of-fact yet inspiring as ever, and, as always, eager to pass on her wisdom to younger women. Afterward, I got up the courage to approach her, but found face-to-face, I felt too shy and tongue-tied to actually speak coherently. And so, I looked my heroine in the eye, grasped her hand, and simply said, THANK YOU. It felt like enough. It felt like she understood. Now, with her passing, I feel sad but also revitalized to take her power with me, to help fill the proverbial pages of The Persistent with her spirit and feminist ideas, and to make her proud. 

Paula Derrow, features editor

Gloria Steinem wrote the foreword to my first book — a volume that delves into the early days of New York magazine. While reviewing a vignette about Tom Wolfe's searing 25,000-word takedown of Leonard Bernstein's Black Panthers fundraiser ("Radical Chic: That Party at Lenny's"), she taught me about questioning the existing framing and taking a broader view of history. She pointed out that Wolfe's story — as delicious a read as it is — divided the magazine's readers at the time and dissuaded influential people from hosting cause-oriented gatherings for fear of ridicule. That's stayed with me: a "great story" and a "fair story" aren't always the same thing.

Her foreword (below), is a lovely ode to magazines and newsrooms.

Anne Quito, contributing writer 

I only met Gloria once, when she attended a performance of live storytelling in which I participated at Hunter College in honor of Anita Hill. She came up to me after the performance to thank me for my story, and I was so starstruck, I could barely speak. I think I squeaked out something inane like, "No, you are MY idol, thank YOU," and then she was swallowed up by a large crowd of her admirers. Losing Dolly and Gloria in the span of a week hurts. Two women who have put so much good in the world while the bozos in the White House prop up a sleeping tyrant and dismantle everything those two angels cared about and fought for.” 

Deborah Copaken, contributing writer