Last month, the long-anticipated American Women's History Museum hit another roadblock—not from a lack of interest, but because lawmakers who claim to champion women voted against a measure to define its focus. The bill, introduced by Rep. Nicole Malliotakis (R-N.Y.), would have required the Smithsonian institution to recognize and celebrate biological women. It failed by a narrow 204-216 margin after opponents labeled the language a 'poison pill.'
This defeat marks another instance where biological women have been sidelined to make a political point. The museum, authorized by Congress in 2020, has been in development for six years, with a permanent site finally within reach. Its mission is to honor female entrepreneurs, scientists, explorers, artists, and mothers who overcame significant obstacles. But the debate over the term 'biological woman' derailed progress, raising questions about whether ideology is trumping advocacy.
Victoria Akyea, a doctoral candidate and public health professional at The Institute for Women's Health, argues that ignoring biological womanhood has real consequences. 'Biological women were excluded from clinical research for decades because they were biologically female,' she writes. 'They face frequent misdiagnoses and challenging side effects from medications designed around male physiology.' She notes that excruciating pain is often dismissed as emotional instability until it's too late to treat.
The controversy centers on the word 'biological,' which some lawmakers find divisive. Malliotakis countered simply: 'A women's history museum is supposed to be dedicated to women, period.' Akyea echoes this, stating that a museum for women shouldn't shy away from its foundation. 'Feminine strength, in its fullest form, ought to be celebrated, not tiptoed around,' she writes.
This isn't an abstract debate. Figures like Amelia Earhart, Bessie Coleman, Elizabeth Blackwell, and Clara Barton faced unique challenges because they were biological women. Their stories deserve to be told without apology, Akyea insists. She questions what message the vote sends to the next generation: 'If we cannot say plainly that biological women have a distinct history worth honoring, what do we communicate to the girls watching?'
The political landscape remains charged. Meanwhile, other news highlights the tension between rhetoric and action: Trump seeks to dismiss New York cases amid claims of prosecutorial pressure, and Tina Peters, released from prison, repeats disproven 2020 election fraud claims. These stories underscore how political theater often overshadows substantive policy.
Akyea, who holds a master's in public health, calls on lawmakers to answer a straightforward question: 'Why don't biological women deserve an exclusive honor, when they have experienced exclusive challenges?' She warns that modeling public life after ideological debates becomes a legacy that diminishes women's sacrifices and hard-won progress.
The museum's fate now hinges on whether legislators can find common ground. As Akyea concludes, 'A museum that cannot say who it is for has already lost its entire point.' The question remains: Will those who claim to fight for women find the courage to build something that proves it?
