Last week, I visited Abigail Adams’s grave in Quincy, Massachusetts. Outside, I stopped beside her statue and read words from her letters to John Adams.
In March 1776, as the colonies moved toward independence, she urged him to consider women in the laws of the new nation. She asked him to improve upon earlier generations’ treatment of women and warned against placing unlimited power in husbands’ hands.
In May, she returned to the subject, challenging the contradiction of men proclaiming liberty while retaining absolute authority over their wives.
Standing there 250 years later, I felt admiration for her clarity and frustration with how long women have had to fight for basic rights.
The Cost of Waiting
The 19th Amendment was ratified in 1920, 144 years after independence. It prohibited denying the vote because of sex. Some women had already gained voting rights under state laws, while racial discrimination continued to keep many women from the polls afterward.
In 1974, Congress passed the Equal Credit Opportunity Act, prohibiting credit discrimination based on sex or marital status. Before then, lenders commonly required creditworthy women to obtain a husband’s signature. That federal protection arrived 198 years after independence.
These dates represent generations of women whose ability to participate in public life and manage their finances depended on rules they had little power to change.
And progress can be reversed.
In 2022, the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade and Planned Parenthood v. Casey, ending the federal constitutional protection for abortion. The decision did not ban abortion nationwide; it returned authority to regulate abortion to elected governments. For me, it raises another question about women’s freedom: who has the authority to decide whether a woman continues a pregnancy?
Meanwhile, the Equal Rights Amendment remains uncertified and legally disputed, despite 38 states having voted to ratify it, with the final three approvals coming after Congress’s deadline.
We should recognize the advances. We should also recognize the years spent waiting and the uncertainty surrounding protections once considered established.
Education and Responsibility
Against that history, I find myself thinking about the allegations involving seven members of Cornell’s Chi Phi fraternity as well as the 57 members in the fraternity's group chat.
A former student alleges that she was drugged and sexually assaulted in 2024. Prosecutors have reopened the criminal investigation. Some defendants deny wrongdoing. Cornell says it imposed disciplinary sanctions and has agreed to an independent review of its handling of the case. The allegations require a thorough investigation and fair proceedings.
The case also raises broader questions about dignity, consent, and responsibility.
What should we expect people to understand about another person’s right to make decisions about their own body? How should institutions respond when someone reports that this right has been violated?
I initially wondered about the men’s families, their upbringing, and how they entered Cornell. But I do not know those circumstances.
What I can say is that adults bear responsibility for their conduct. Academic achievement does not relieve anyone of the obligation to respect another person.
Understanding consent should be a basic expectation in our homes, schools, workplaces, and relationships.
Whose Choices Count?
An image I recently saw placed a short skirt, a burqa, and a diaper in an imagined conversation about sexual abuse.
Its message was painful and direct: clothing does not constitute consent. A child cannot be responsible for an adult’s abuse.
It made me think about how readily a discussion can turn toward what someone wore, where they went, or what they should have done differently.
Responsibility for sexual assault belongs to the person committing it.
Voting, access to credit, reproductive decisions, and sexual consent involve different laws and circumstances. They deserve careful consideration on their own terms. What connects them for me is the question of women’s authority over their own lives.
Abigail challenged unchecked male power at the founding of this country. Her letters leave us with a question that still deserves an answer: whose freedom are we prepared to respect when doing so limits our own power?
The Parting Glass
I left Abigail Adams’s grave thinking about the difference between preserving someone’s words and acting upon them.
We can engrave a quotation in stone. We can admire the woman who wrote it. We can celebrate the progress that followed.
Honoring her also requires examining our conduct today.
For me, remembering the ladies means listening to women, respecting their decisions, taking reports of harm seriously, and supporting fair processes that establish responsibility. It means defending their ability to participate fully in public life and make decisions about their own bodies.
After 250 years, I am frustrated that these expectations still require argument.
Women should not have to keep persuading others that their freedom matters.
#WomensRights #Equality #Consent #Accountability #AbigailAdams