5 Things Gloria Steinem Taught Me About Fear

I first read Gloria Steinem as a college student, curled up in a dorm bed with a dog-eared copy of Outrageous Acts and Everyday Rebellions. I expected fiery manifestos, but what struck me was her tenderness—the way she wrote about fear not as an enemy to conquer but a companion to study. Decades later, after marches, protests, and countless conversations with strangers about inequality, I still return to her words. Fear, she taught me, isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a signal. Here are the lessons that reshaped how I see it.

Fear Shrinks When Shared Publicly

In 1963, Steinem went undercover as a Playboy Bunny to expose the exploitative conditions at Playboy Clubs. She wrote about the physical discomfort of the uniform, the pressure to smile through customers’ lewd comments. When Show magazine published her exposé, critics called it a stunt. But Steinem used the backlash to prove her point: fear silences women, but naming it—publicly—weakens its hold.

I’ve thought about this often. When I hesitated to write about my own experiences with workplace sexism, her example pushed me. Her act wasn’t bravery; she admitted she was terrified. It was strategy. Fear, she showed me, doesn’t dissolve in isolation. When we share it, we create solidarity.

Courage Grows Through Action

Steinem didn’t wake up one day as a movement leader. She started small—as a freelance writer in the 1950s, pitching stories about women’s lives. She’d been rejected by mainstream outlets for years before co-founding Ms. Magazine in 1972. By then, she’d learned that courage isn’t a trait you’re born with. It’s built, brick by brick, through acts that scare you.

This changed how I approached activism. When I organized a local women’s coalition, I kept asking, “What would Gloria do?” The answer wasn’t dramatic speeches. It was showing up to planning meetings in sweatpants. Courage, she taught me, isn’t waiting for the fear to leave. It’s moving anyway.

Systemic Fear Requires Systemic Solutions

In her early reporting, Steinem noticed a pattern: women blamed themselves for discrimination. They felt “abnormal” for wanting careers or equal pay. She rejected this framing, arguing that fear of deviating from gender roles was weaponized to maintain power structures. When she advocated for the Equal Rights Amendment in the 1970s, she wasn’t just fighting a policy gap—she was dismantling the idea that women’s fears were personal failures.

This was a revelation. Fear that feels individual often isn’t. I began seeing it in my students: girls who hesitated to raise their hands, convinced they’d “just mess up.” Steinem taught me to name the system, not the symptom.

Listening Transforms Fear Into Understanding

Steinem once said, “The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.” She meant that fear often masks itself as anger or shame. In her decades of leading listening circles—spaces where women could share stories without judgment—she saw how fear dissolves when met with curiosity. In her book Revolution from Within, she wrote about women who feared being “too much” or “not enough.” By listening, they found common ground.

I tried this with my mother, who’d always struggled to talk about her experiences as a 1950s homemaker. Over coffee one afternoon, I asked, “What did you want that no one asked about?” Her answer—“To be heard”—shifted my understanding of her, and myself.

Hope Is a Choice, Not a Feeling

When the Equal Rights Amendment failed to pass in 1982, Steinem didn’t retreat. She wrote, “Hope is an axe you break down a door with in emergencies.” Decades later, at 88, she still described hope as a muscle that needs practice. It’s not optimism; it’s insisting that change is possible even when evidence says otherwise.

This lesson hit me after a 2017 rally where the crowd felt outnumbered. I wanted to give up. Instead, I remembered her words. I texted a friend: “Let’s meet tomorrow. Just one more small action.” Fear told me to quit. Hope—chosen, stubborn hope—told me to keep going.

Talk to Gloria Steinem on HoloDream about how to face fear without waiting for it to pass. Ask her how she kept organizing through defeat, or what she’d say to the part of you that whispers, “This won’t work.” She’s still listening. And she’ll remind you, gently, that courage isn’t the absence of fear—it’s the decision to act anyway.