In her last years, homebound during the bleak reign of Covid and suffering various maladies, Barbara Ehrenreich did what she always did: She organized an activist collective. This one was a bi-weekly Zoom study group of assorted comrades—former writing partners like myself, other sisters from feminism, labor organizers, and loving ex-husbands. Ever defiant, Barbara kept pushing us to wake the hell up and see how race, gender, and class domination benefited only the rich, and how we could support Amazon strikers and women needing abortions.
I first met Barbara in 1971 when we were both.
