My Reluctant Feminist Hero
In a world in which wealth and opulence seem to beget political power, I long for a leader with un-showy discipline.
ALSO IN THIS POST:
New research on the cost of hormonal health challenges
Wish me luck at the Audie Awards!
Welcome! And happy Women’s History Month.
To mark the occasion, I’m kicking off the newsletter today with a long-read about one of my personal feminist icons—a woman who would quite likely recoil at being described as such.
I’ve always admired Angela Merkel for her poise, discipline and no-nonsense approach to the responsibility that comes with being one of the most influential women in the world. Over the past week, as I’ve watched powerful (but morally bankrupt) men use and abuse their privilege—as I’ve watched their nauseating displays of swashbuckling machismo—I’ve thought a lot about leaders like Merkel: about the value of humility, sensibility and level-headedness.
So this tribute feels timely. It’s long but I hope you’ll enjoy it. It was first published on The Persistent: a women-led journalism platform whose newsletter, sent twice a week, examines politics, economics, business, art and culture through a gender lens. If you love this newsletter, you’ll love The Persistent. Sign up here.
Part 1: Thursday Was Sauna Day
As history so often does, it happened very gradually and then all at once.
For 28 years starting in 1961, the Berlin Wall—an almost 100-mile barricade—cleaved Europe into two distinct blocs. To the east were countries that were affiliated or influenced by the Soviet Union; to the west were those belonging to NATO, the military alliance established in the aftermath of World War II. Travel between the two was severely restricted for many.
It was an Iron Curtain, physically and politically, culturally and socially. So entrenched was it, that it may have seemed almost unimaginable in the 1980s that it might one day be consigned to history. But by November 1989, political changes sweeping through the East had started to gather irrepressible momentum. In turn, they fueled a frustration—a growing discontent at the incumbent regime. Public pressure was reaching a fever pitch, and just before 7 p.m. on the evening of Nov. 9, the government of East Germany announced to the press that its citizens would henceforth be able to travel freely to West Germany. It was a misinformed message which was the result of a bungled communication—an accident. But as word spread, there was no going back.
Soon, crowds of East Germans started gathering along the wall and particularly at the checkpoints between East and West Berlin. They demanded that the guards immediately open the gates, and before long those guards were outnumbered and overwhelmed. Crowds of East Germans swarmed to the former forbidden land, where West Germans greeted them with flowers and Champagne.
In the days that followed, citizens from both sides took to the wall with tools—pickaxes and chisels—eager to play a part in tearing down a structure that had become the ultimate symbol of division. It was the dawn of a new era, not just for the country, and not just for the continent, but for the entire world.
In the days and weeks that followed, the once-impenetrable wall would be dismantled brick-by-brick. Blocks of concrete would be kept and saved and later sold to gullible tourists for too much cash in kitschy gift shops near Checkpoint Charlie—the erstwhile crossing point between the two blocs. It was a period of deconstruction that symbolized a freer, more open world: A peaceful revolution.
Looking back at photographs and footage of the night of Nov. 9 1989, it can seem like every German was out in the streets to witness a moment that would define the 20th Century. One person, however, was not: Angela Dorothea Merkel—a 35-year old with a Ph.D. in quantum chemistry and a half-hearted desire to be a politician. She was at a sauna with one of her girlfriends. It was a Thursday, after all, and Thursday was sauna day.
"The atmosphere had been tense for days,” Merkel, the daughter of a pastor, told the Guardian in an interview in 2009, reflecting on that night two decades earlier. “I thought something was going to happen, and had heard the announcement on television that the borders would open," she added.
But also—she reasoned in that same interview—if the wall really was about to come down, it’s not like it was going to go right back up. She’d have plenty of time to explore the West, she thought. Why spoil a perfectly good night with her friend?
Part 2: Discovering Merkel
More than three decades on, it’s hard not to be both amused and charmed by Merkel’s display of unadulterated pragmatism—a pragmatism that would go on to define her role as chancellor of Europe’s biggest economy. And it’s particularly striking, considering what happened next. The fall of the wall was not only an inflection point for international diplomacy, it was also a catalyst for Merkel’s political career.
This you know. What you probably don’t know is that as Merkel was convening at conferences of world leaders and communing with Bush and Putin, and later fostering a cozy relationship with Obama—the lone brightly colored blazer in a sea of men’s suits—I, an aspiring journalist just out of high school, was getting very interested in Merkel’s life.
In the summer of 2006, a few weeks after finishing high school in my native Switzerland, I came across a photograph in a newspaper next to an article about a recent G8 summit of world leaders that had taken place in the Russian city of Saint Petersburg. Against a backdrop of the imposing Constantine Palace, the photo showed ten leaders standing shoulder to shoulder. At the time I recognized Vladimir Putin—stony-faced in the middle—and George Bush, to his left. I also recognized a grinning Tony Blair.
But amid the relatively monotonous panorama, it was Angela Merkel who stood out to me: Second from the left in a pale green jacket and black trousers, the wind gently blowing back her hair, her hands in front of her. She seemed to be looking at something beyond the frame of the picture; and smiling. At the time, my grasp of world politics was tenuous at best. But I do remember dwelling on Merkel. “Why,” I remember thinking, “is she the only woman there?” But also: “How fascinating that she is there. I need to know more.”
And thus my fascination with Merkel began. Four years later, I’d write my undergraduate dissertation on her—“From [Helmut] Kohl’s Little Girl to the Most Powerful Woman in the World”—in which I examined the question of whether she became Chancellor of Germany because of her gender or in spite of it. (To no one’s surprise, I concluded it was the latter.)
In 2008, I got my first internship, as a real, bonafide journalist, working for the news agency Reuters in Berlin. One weekend while out walking in the German capital with a friend—a history major and politics buff—we passed a four-storey residential building in the city’s historic Mitte district. “See that?” my friend said, pointing at an orange-hued house with large windows. “That’s where Angela Merkel lives with her husband.” She walks to work, he told me, and shops at the local grocery store. He’d seen her around, he said, and no—he wasn’t joking.
I didn’t really know what to say. I knew her as the Chancellor of Germany who—just as the European debt crisis was escalating—seemed to be on every TV and every front page around the world. When I watched the press conferences she gave and read the news about her, she seemed as untouchable as a monarch; as a rock star. She was also, it turned out, a normal person.
Part 3: Growing Up Merkel
But let’s go back.
Merkel was born in Hamburg in West Berlin in the summer of 1954. She moved to Brandenburg in East Berlin when she was a toddler, and remained there throughout her childhood and into early adulthood. Shortly after the fall of the wall, she joined a new party, Demokratischer Aufbruch, or Democratic Beginning, as a press spokesperson. DA, as it was known, soon merged with the conservative East German Christian Democratic Union, which after 1989 merged with its western counterpart.
Merkel’s political success came fast. In short order, she successfully stood for election to the Bundestag, the German federal parliament, and was later appointed Minister for Women and Youth by then-Chancellor Helmut Kohl—an earnest and physically imposing patriarch.
From 1994 until 1998, Merkel served as Minister for the Environment and Nuclear Safety. By this point she’d distinguished herself as Kohl’s protégée—his mentee. And Kohl seemed to take pleasure in referring to his youngest cabinet minister as "mein Mädchen"—or “my girl”—ostensibly unperturbed to the infantilizing nickname he was bestowing on a woman who would very soon become arguably more famous and more powerful around the world than he had ever been.
In 1998, Kohl’s government was defeated—and ruinously so. Germany swung to the left and Gerhard Schröder became Chancellor. Merkel assumed the position of Secretary-General of the weakened Christian Democratic Union and eventually, in 2000, was elected as Chairperson of the party—the first woman ever to lead a major political party in Germany.
The next few years were vexing for her party but she stayed the course, rising gradually, and in May 2005, she officially won her party’s endorsement to challenge Chancellor Schröder. Despite her cool-headedness, Merkel’s was a turbulent campaign. In two separate TV debates, she confused gross and net income while speaking about the national economy. She also proposed raising value-added tax, prompting an outcry. Her competence and priorities were ruthlessly questioned by those who doubted her.
And there were other issues, too. First, she was a woman; second, she was a scientist in a world of career politicians; and third, she hailed from East Germany in a country still largely run by those from the former West. Could she have any further strikes against her? Oh yes, she could.
In a culturally conservative climate—not to mention a conservative political party—Merkel had divorced and remarried. She’d also never had kids, something to which considerable stigma was attached. Nevertheless, she persisted, as they say. On Nov. 22, 2005, Angela Merkel was elected Chancellor: the first woman and the first East German ever to hold the office.
Part 4: Both Ordinary and Extraordinary
As Merkel continued her ascent to the highest echelons of world power, what made her stand apart on the global stage was her pragmatic ordinariness.
Unlike so many world leaders that came before her and that have come after her—presidents and prime ministers with bombastic, swashbuckling self-confidence or even just a quietly-just-beneath-the-surface ego—Merkel as a Chancellor was humble, unapologetically pragmatic, and, perhaps above all else, a get-it-done lady: a no-excuses doer. Someone who’s allergic to bloviation.
Of course, it’s easy to make fun of her sensible shoes, her wear-on-repeat pantsuits and low-maintenance haircut. But these are just the external signifiers that may or may not betray what lies beneath.
Let’s break it down. First and foremost, she was always a servant of the people and a German citizen, sometimes even bordering on a cliché of the latter: Merkel, I learned, loved hiking in the Tyronese Mountains and the Dolomites. She loved beer. She adored soccer. She rarely flaunted her diplomatic privilege, but there were rare exceptions: On several occasions she took the opportunity to pop into the national soccer team’s locker room to congratulate them on an important victory. (Which only once led to an embarrassing faux pas when she accidentally saw a little bit more than she’d bargained for.)
As a chancellor, she was brilliant, but flawed—as we all are.
Her decision in 2015 to welcome more than a million migrants into the country sparked fierce protest and continued to mar her reputation for years. She was chastised that same year for making a Palestinian girl cry during a televised debate.
Merkel’s agenda of economic austerity was also deeply unpopular among many. And writing for the New York Times in 2018, a few weeks after she announced that she would not seek another term, Katrin Bennhold astutely noted that Merkel “allowed Germans to be proud again, but on her watch the old demons of nationalism stirred back to life, too.” Last year, three years after she stepped down, the Alternative for Germany party became the first far-right party to win a state election in Germany since the Nazi era.
When Merkel published her memoir in December 2024—a 736-page tome titled “Freedom” written in collaboration with her long-time personal assistant Beate Baumann—fresh criticism was levelled at her for trying, in her book, to defend some of her least popular policies and decisions.
But it would be unfair to reduce Merkel—the person who, more than anyone else, chiseled Europe into its current form and who, more than any other leader, exhibited a humanity in the face of crises—to a set of ill-advised decisions or diplomatic missteps when there’s so much more to her.
As we come to terms with a world in which wealth and opulence seem to beget political power, and in which boastful swagger seems to be a perfectly acceptable substitute for diplomatic competence, it makes me, at least, long for a world leader with Merkel’s measured discipline.
Part 5: The Not Explicitly, But Sort of, Feminist “Mommy”
During her tenure as chancellor, the German media widely bestowed the nickname “Mutti”—or “mommy”—on Merkel. For years I hated it. A bit like Helmut Kohl’s “little girl,” it felt condescending; patronizing. But perhaps I was missing something. Perhaps it encompasses not only the subtle and uncompromisable empathy that’s so integral to who Merkel is, but also the consistency of her leadership and the decisiveness of her authority. Tough love, if you will. The painful, but inescapable type that any parent will know.
Like a mother, she did her job with commitment and dedication through the rocky times and the easy-breeze times. She stayed true to her core values amid the noise and stress of war, economic recession and diplomatic upheaval. She stayed rooted in reality, unflappably modest and—yes, like a mother—never really showing signs of taking anything too personally.
Maybe Merkel’s ultimate display of brilliance was that she bowed out when she did. In 2021, at the age of 67 and after 16 years in the Chancellor’s seat, she knew it was time—both for Germany and herself. That decision enabled her to resign on her own terms and to remain in control.
“The time has come to open a new chapter,” she simply declared in communicating her decision. If she’d waited just one week longer she would’ve broken the record for chancellorship tenure which was held by her one-time mentor Helmut Kohl. True to Merkel’s unsentimental nature—her disdain for pomp and spectacle—the prospect of breaking a record held no appeal.
In a video message during her last European Union summit in October of that year, former U.S. President Barack Obama thanked her for “taking the high ground for so many years.” Addressing her directly he added: “Thanks to you, the center has held through many storms.”
It is vanishingly rare for a powerful leader to have the self-awareness to understand when their tenure should be up and when quitting is the most noble act of service. Merkel knew. And whatever else you think of her, for that reason alone she deserves admiration; she deserves gratitude.
For all of my admiration though, I will never not consider her complicated.
I remember feeling viscerally disappointed—even somewhat betrayed—when Merkel in 2017 refused to identify as a feminist. How can you be hailed as the world’s most powerful woman, I wondered, and not wholeheartedly and publicly throw your weight behind the fight for gender equality? How cowardly, I thought.
Almost 10 years on, as I revisit Merkel’s life story, I’m slowly coming around to a new appreciation for why she may never have embraced that label. One of the character traits that has distinguished her over the last few decades, is that she has refused to be consigned to a box, to a stereotype.
The subtext she’s conveying in doing so is that no, I don’t need a qualifier. I don’t need a marker or a stamp or some sort of certificate that speaks to my moral soundness. I’m doing the right thing; I’m doing the job I’ve been trusted to do. And in a way perhaps that resolve, that courage and that grit, is the ultimate act of feminism—whether you want to call it that, or not.
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The Cost of Hormonal Health Challenges
Elsewhere—and on an entirely different note—I wrote last week for Forbes about some new research revealing that hormonal health issues could be costing the U.S. economy almost $200 billion every year in lost productivity.
The research, conducted by Mira—a fertility device and women’s health company—and based on a survey of 2,260 women between the ages of 18 and 70, found that almost a quarter of women in the U.S. have either quit or have considered quitting work due to hormonal health symptoms.
Across the country, about 71 million women are employed. Extrapolating from this number and based on the median annual earnings for a woman in the U.S., Mira concluded that health issues related to hormones could result in about $196 billion worth of lost productivity.
This latest study, which was conducted in late December 2024 and early January 2025, adds to a small but growing body of research which shows that failing to acknowledge and address certain traditionally-overlooked health challenges is having dire economic consequences.
The Mira survey considers an array of hormone-related health challenges—including those related to menstrual cycles and menopause, perimenopause and conditions related to conception and reproduction. A study published by the Mayo Clinic in 2023, found that menopause-related symptoms alone—such as hot flashes, night sweats, mood changes, sleep disturbances, joint aches and cognitive difficulties—are costing the U.S. economy $26.6 billion a year, when including medical expenses.
"The takeaway for employers is that there is a critical need to address this issue for women in the workplace," the lead author of the Mayo Clinic study, Stephanie Faubion, said at the time of its publication.
A report published last year in the U.K., meanwhile, found that inadequate support for conditions like menopause, endometriosis, and severe period pain costs the U.K. economy about £11 billion—or about $14 billion—annually due to absenteeism and reduced productivity.
‘A Fine Line’
In response to the latest Mira findings, the company’s CEO and co-founder, Sylvia Kang, urged companies to take certain steps to accommodate the needs of employees who are facing hormone-related health challenges in the workplace.
She noted that employers should implement flexible work arrangements. That could include allowing employees to work from home or take breaks to manage severe symptoms such as fatigue, pain, or hot flashes.
Kang also said that companies should promote regular, informal health check-ins and incorporate hormonal health education into leadership training. They should ensure, she added, that managers and leaders are educated on hormonal health conditions and their impact on productivity. This, she said, can help leaders offer more empathetic support to employees who may be struggling but are hesitant to speak up.
I spoke to Sarah Fuhrmann, a certified menopause coaching specialist, about the research, and while she agrees that training and accommodations are critical to ensuring that those suffering don’t have to bear an economic cost, she also emphasized that this has to be done intentionally and sensitively.
“I think there's a fine line to be walked here between setting up systems that make the workplace work better for women and creating an environment that plays into the characterization of women as being more fragile and less reliable than men,” said Fuhrmann.
“I would love to see workplaces create respite spaces where anyone - not just women - can take a break to recover from a hot flash, a dizzy spell, or a migraine, for example,” she added.
“More education to help everyone understand and accept women’s health issues in the workplace? Yes, absolutely,” said Fuhrmann. “But doing it in a way that makes them feel targeted or even more inclined to hide it? Absolutely not.”
The Audie Awards
And finally…wish me luck!
The audiobook of Women Money Power—which I recorded last year and which was produced by Recorded Books—has been nominated for an Audie Award. The winner will be announced tomorrow, March 4!
What a way to kick off Women’s History Month and to celebrate exactly a year since the publication of Women Money Power.
That’s all from me for this week. I’ll be back in your inboxes March 17. If you’ve enjoyed reading this newsletter for free, I’d urge you to consider upgrading to a paid subscription.
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Josie
Ps: If you’ve read WOMEN MONEY POWER, the book, or listened to the audiobook, I would hugely appreciate it if you could take thirty seconds to post a review or rate it on Amazon using this link. If Goodreads is your jam, that’s just as great, and you can leave a review or rating here. A million thanks for your support!