The president ended his term in office the way he began it: by invoking a perverse vision of manliness.

“There will be a resistance to your ambition. There will be people who say to you, ‘You are out of your lane,’ because they are burdened by only having the capacity to see what has always been instead of what can be.”

"I played Ms. Monopoly so that you don’t have to."

The invisible woman of the classic sitcom, which leaves Netflix at the end of the year, is a case study in the way TV shows can turn people into punch lines.

When the question at hand is whether Trump engaged in an abuse of power with Ukraine, his alleged abuse of power with women becomes less relevant.

Anger, flung as an accusation at Elizabeth Warren, is not about economic disparity or racial injustice or environmental catastrophe, Megan Garber writes. It is about the familiar standbys: “likability.” “Electability.” “Charisma.”

Disparaging comments. Demeaning jokes. As the mogul reportedly considers a 2020 presidential run, it remains an open question whether his long-alleged history of undermining women will affect his chances.

There's no such thing as underage women. They are girls.

The classic rom-com invented the “high-maintenance” woman. Thirty years later, its reductive diagnosis lives on.

A new Netflix documentary makes a subtly radical argument: that the emotions of women running for office are not liabilities, but sources of power.

But reclamation, as a political weapon but also as a broader ethic, allows a new kind of history to be made. The lawmakers who donned white on Tuesday found ways both to acknowledge the shamefulness of history and to repurpose it—but to do so, they made clear, on their own terms.