Robin Morgan, who died Saturday in New York at 85, lived a life that refused the roles assigned to it — first as a child actress shaped by an industry that preferred girls compliant and decorative, then as a poet and radical who helped rewrite the terms by which women understood their own lives. From the 1968 Miss America protest to the founding of the Women's Media Center, she moved through American culture not as a passenger but as an architect, leaving behind language, symbols, and institutions that outlasted any single moment of struggle. Her death closes a chapter in the long human effort
Robin Morgan, Pioneering Feminist Writer and Gloria Steinem Ally, Dies at 85
I loved and respected that child who fought back
So she went from being a child star to a radical activist. That's a pretty stark pivot. What made her leave that world?
She never really left it—she rejected it. Even as a kid, she was fighting the script they'd written for her. On live television, she refused to make a joke about spanking and said it was wrong. The producer literally put his hand over her mouth.
That's a powerful anecdote, but we should be careful about reading it as the whole story. She was a child; kids say things. The real question is what happened in her late teens and twenties that made her politically active.
She went to Columbia, took poetry workshops, marched for civil rights and against Vietnam. She was in the circles where that was happening—poets, artists, protesters.
And then she became central to second-wave feminism. The Miss America protest, "Sisterhood is Powerful"—these are iconic moments. How did she get there?
She was organizing. She co-founded groups, she edited anthologies, she wrote poetry that people quoted at rallies. She was what Gloria Steinem called a "utility player"—gifted in almost every way a movement might need.
But we should note: the bra-burning is a myth. The source says they tossed items into a "Freedom Trash Can." That's important because it shows how even her activism got mythologized, sometimes inaccurately.
What about her personal life? She married a gay poet and they stayed together for over twenty years.
She described it as a two-member commune. She had male and female lovers. She resisted labels so much that feminists tried to pressure her into being a lesbian and conservatives assumed she was.
That's interesting because it shows the movement wasn't monolithic—there were real tensions about identity and sexuality even within feminism.
And she kept working right up until the end? Even with Parkinson's?
Yes. She was still writing new books and poems when she died. She gave a TEDWomen talk in 2015, hosted a radio show. The work never stopped.
Der Puls
- A girl trained to be agreeable became, by her own account, a political being the first time a producer silenced her on live television — and she never forgot what it felt like to be right and overruled.
- Morgan entered the women's liberation movement at its most combustible moment, co-founding radical organizations, occupying publisher offices, and turning a beauty pageant into a national argument about what women owed the culture that consumed them.
- Her anthology 'Sisterhood is Powerful' and the language she coined — 'herstory,' the feminist fist — gave a sprawling, fractious movement shared symbols and a shared vocabulary, tools that proved more durable than any single protest.
- Even as Parkinson's disease narrowed her physical world in her final sixteen years, she continued broadcasting, writing, and speaking, insisting that the work of a poet and the work of an activist were never separate things.
- Her death leaves behind a web of institutions — Ms. Magazine, the Sisterhood Is Global Institute, the Women's Media Center — that she built with others so the movement would not depend on any one person to survive.
Robin Morgan, who died Saturday in New York at 85, lived a life that refused the roles assigned to it — first as a child actress shaped by an industry that preferred girls compliant and decorative, then as a poet and radical who helped rewrite the terms by which women understood their own lives. From the 1968 Miss America protest to the founding of the Women's Media Center, she moved through American culture not as a passenger but as an architect, leaving behind language, symbols, and institutions that outlasted any single moment of struggle. Her death closes a chapter in the long human effort to make power answerable to those it has most often ignored.
Robin Morgan died Saturday in New York at 85, her life having moved in two unmistakable acts — one written by Hollywood, the other written entirely by herself.
She arrived in public life as a child star: modeling at three, hosting radio at five, and appearing regularly on the television comedy 'Mama' through the 1950s. The industry had decided who she was — the ideal girl-next-door, incapable of antagonism. But during a broadcast of 'Juvenile Jury,' when a producer silenced her mid-answer by turning away her microphone and eventually placing his hand over her mouth, something clarified. She would later call it her first political act — the moment she recognized the child who fought back and loved her for it.
By her late teens she had left that world behind, studying at Columbia, marching for civil rights, and moving through New York's literary circles. She married Kenneth Pitchford, a gay poet she met at a Manhattan party in 1962, and together they raised a son in what she called a two-member commune. She would later note, with characteristic dry precision, that feminists chastised her for being straight and conservatives assumed she was not.
Through the 1960s and '70s, Morgan became a defining figure of second-wave feminism. She helped organize the 1968 protest against the Miss America pageant — mythologized as bra-burning, actually the tossing of garments into a 'Freedom Trash Can' — and co-founded New York Radical Women and the provocatively named W.I.T.C.H. She grew disgusted with the Yippies' treatment of women and left. In 1970, she was arrested after occupying the offices of Grove Press alongside workers seeking unionization.
That same year she edited 'Sisterhood is Powerful,' an anthology that became one of the essential texts of the modern women's movement. She is credited with coining 'herstory' and with popularizing the clenched fist combined with the female symbol. Her poem 'Monster' was quoted at rallies; her poem 'Arraignment,' which accused Ted Hughes of responsibility for Sylvia Plath's death, later inspired a Sonic Youth song title. Her essay 'Goodbye to All That' called out figures from Hugh Hefner to Abbie Hoffman with equal precision. The government labeled her an 'anarchist housewife.'
Over the following decades she completed more than twenty books, served as editor-in-chief of Ms. Magazine, founded the Sisterhood Is Global Institute in 1984, and in 2005 co-launched the Women's Media Center with Gloria Steinem and Jane Fonda. Diagnosed with Parkinson's disease sixteen years before her death, she continued hosting a syndicated radio show, writing new poems, and delivering a TEDWomen talk in 2015. Her son Blake said she considered herself first and always a poet — and that the poetry and the activism were never, for her, two different things.
Robin Morgan died Saturday in New York at 85, leaving behind a life that moved in two distinct acts—one scripted by Hollywood, the other written by her own hand as a radical voice for women's liberation.
She began as a child star, blonde and marketable, the kind of girl magazines called unspoiled and courteous. Born in Lake Worth, Florida in 1941, she was modeling by age three, hosting her own radio show at five, and by the time she was eight, appearing regularly on the television comedy series "Mama," which ran from 1949 to 1957. She shared screens with Abbott and Costello, appeared on game shows and dramatic anthologies, and inspired dolls bearing her name. The industry had decided who she was: the ideal girl-next-door, incapable of antagonism toward the established order.
But the girl behind the camera was someone else entirely. During one broadcast of "Juvenile Jury," when asked whether a boy deserved spanking, she was supposed to deliver a light joke. Instead, she declared that all physical punishment was wrong. The producer's response was swift and silencing—he squeezed her shoulder hard enough that she felt his fingernails, turned her microphone away, and eventually placed his hand over her mouth. Years later, in her 2001 memoir "Saturday's Child," Morgan would reflect on that moment with clarity: she had loved and respected the child who fought back, recognizing it as her first political act.
By her late teens, she had left that world behind. She attended Columbia University, took poetry workshops, marched for civil rights and against the Vietnam War, and moved through circles of artists and poets. In 1962, she met Kenneth Pitchford, a gay poet, at a Manhattan party. He lit candles, played Dvorak, and told her she had an air of possibility about her. They married and remained together for more than twenty years, raising a son together in what Morgan described as a two-member commune. She would later say she was "straight-baited" by feminists who thought she should be a lesbian and chastised by conservatives who assumed she was.
During the 1960s and '70s, Morgan became a central figure in what historians would call second-wave feminism. In 1968, she helped organize the first protest against the Miss America pageant, an action that would be mythologized as bra-burning but was actually the tossing of undergarments and other items into a "Freedom Trash Can." She co-founded New York Radical Women and the provocatively named Women's International Terrorist Conspiracy from Hell (W.I.T.C.H.). She joined the Youth International Party, the Yippies, but grew disgusted with how the movement treated women and left. In 1970, she and fellow protesters were arrested and jailed after occupying the offices of Grove Press, fighting alongside employees seeking unionization.
That same year, she edited "Sisterhood is Powerful," an anthology of essays that became one of the essential texts of the modern women's movement. The book's title itself reflected her gift for distilling large ideas into memorable language—a skill her son Blake Morgan, a musician and record company founder, attributed to her poet's mind. She is widely credited with coining the term "herstory," the feminist reclamation of history, and with popularizing the clenched fist combined with the female symbol, an icon that became synonymous with women's liberation. Her poem "Monster," with its line "I want a women's revolution like a lover / I lust for it," was quoted at rallies and beyond. Another poem, "Arraignment," helped crystallize the movement's embrace of Sylvia Plath and its condemnation of Ted Hughes, whom Morgan and others held responsible for Plath's suicide in 1963. The couplet "I accuse / Ted Hughes" later inspired the title of Sonic Youth's song "J'Accuse Ted Hughes."
Over the following decades, Morgan's output was relentless. She completed more than twenty books, including "The Word of a Woman: Feminist Dispatches" and poetry collections such as "Monster" and "Dark Matter." She followed "Sisterhood is Powerful" with "Sisterhood is Global" in 1984 and "Sisterhood is Forever" in 2002, the latter featuring contributions from Gloria Steinem, Simone de Beauvoir, and Eve Ensler. She served as editor-in-chief of Ms. Magazine. In 1984, she founded the Sisterhood Is Global Institute, an early feminist think tank. In 2005, she, Steinem, and Jane Fonda launched the Women's Media Center, dedicated to supporting the visibility and decision-making power of women and girls in media.
In 1970, she published the essay "Goodbye to All That," a widely reprinted piece that confronted the establishment from both left and right, calling out figures from Hugh Hefner to Abbie Hoffman, whom she compared unfavorably to a movie star abandoning his first wife and children. The government labeled her an "anarchist housewife." She was someone who could take on power with precision and wit, never losing sight of the specific injustice beneath the grand ideology. In her later years, diagnosed with Parkinson's disease sixteen years before her death, she continued working—hosting a syndicated radio show, writing new books and poems, and delivering a TEDWomen talk in 2015. Her son said she considered herself primarily a poet and artist, and that this work fed directly into her activism. She once wrote, "Put that in your apple pie and smoke it," a line that captured her threadbare, somewhat surreal sense of humor, the thing that allowed her to survive and thrive across decades of struggle.
Bemerkenswerte Zitate
She was someone who was able to take very big ideas and distill them succinctly, like a poet, into a few words.— Her son Blake Morgan, on her gift for language
You have such an air of possibility about you, Robin. It makes me believe anything can happen.— Kenneth Pitchford, her future husband, when they met in 1962