A liberated woman is one who has sex before marriage and a job

In an age when the chains of tradition wrapped tightly around the hearts of women, Gloria Steinem stood like a flame against the wind and declared, “A liberated woman is one who has sex before marriage and a job after.” These words, though simple, thundered across generations, for they tore down two prisons: the control of a woman’s body and the control of her labor. To be “liberated,” in Steinem’s vision, was not merely to act without consequence—it was to choose one’s own path in both love and livelihood. It was to reclaim what had always belonged to woman: her will.

In ancient times, as in Steinem’s, woman was taught that virtue was submission—that her purity was her worth, and her obedience her crown. Her desires were caged, her ambitions mocked, her labor unpaid. Yet the spirit of freedom cannot be contained forever. From the weavers of Sparta to the scholars of Alexandria, there were always women who defied the silence. What Steinem did was give this rebellion a voice that echoed through the modern age. By speaking of sex before marriage, she was not glorifying indulgence, but dismantling the belief that a woman’s value lies in chastity rather than choice. By speaking of a job after, she declared that fulfillment does not end at the altar—it begins when a woman claims the right to her own destiny.

Consider the tale of Margaret Sanger, the nurse who fought for women’s access to birth control when such talk was forbidden. She risked prison to distribute pamphlets teaching women how to control their own fertility, believing that no woman could be free if she could not command her own body. Her courage gave birth to movements that changed the world, paving the way for generations to live, love, and labor on their own terms. In her, as in Steinem, we see that true liberation is not rebellion for its own sake—it is the restoration of natural power long denied.

There is in Steinem’s quote a rhythm of balance: the freedom of the body and the freedom of the hand. For what is the value of one without the other? A woman who may love freely but is denied work is still dependent; a woman who may work but cannot love by her own choosing is still bound. True freedom is wholeness—to live as both creator and chooser, to possess both tenderness and strength. The ancient goddesses knew this truth: Isis, Athena, and Inanna—each bore wisdom, power, and passion together. They were not made to serve, but to shape the world.

And yet, liberation is never granted—it is taken by those who dare. The generations before Steinem marched, burned, wrote, and wept to carve a space for the daughters yet unborn. The suffragettes were spat upon, jailed, and broken—but they endured. The women of World War II took to the factories, and though they were told to return home after, the memory of power never faded. By the time Steinem’s voice rose in the 1960s, it was the echo of centuries of quiet defiance finally turned into thunder. Freedom, she reminded us, is not scandalous; it is sacred.

But we must not mistake liberty for loneliness, nor strength for scorn. Steinem’s message was not a call to abandon love or family, but to enter them by choice, not by duty. A liberated woman does not reject the home—she refuses to be confined by it. She does not despise tradition—she redefines it. And in doing so, she teaches man, too, what it means to be truly free: to live beside an equal, not above a servant.

So let this truth be carried forward: the world cannot rise while half its people kneel. Liberation is not the victory of women over men, but the victory of humanity over fear. To the daughters of the future, take this teaching: love boldly, work proudly, and never apologize for your power. To the sons, learn that respect is not given through protection, but through partnership. Let every soul know that the measure of freedom is not in gender, but in the courage to live by one’s own light. For when woman stands liberated, the whole world stands taller.