I think women are excellent social critics.

Hear the words of Laurie Anderson, artist and visionary, who declared: “I think women are excellent social critics.” Though brief, her statement shines like a shard of truth, piercing the veil of centuries. For in these words lies the recognition that women, long pressed to the margins, have developed a keen and subtle sight. From their position, often silenced, often underestimated, they have observed the world with clarity, able to see its hypocrisies, its contradictions, and its follies. This vantage point has sharpened their voice, making them not only nurturers of life but also guardians of wisdom.

The origin of Anderson’s words springs from her own life as an artist who blended music, performance, and technology to question the nature of society. She lived in an era when the voices of women were beginning to rise more freely in the arts and in public discourse, and she recognized that their critiques were not born of bitterness but of lived truth. For centuries, women have been tasked with watching, adapting, and enduring; thus they have cultivated the art of seeing what others do not wish to see, and saying what others fear to say.

History offers us countless examples of this prophetic vision. Recall Mary Wollstonecraft, who in the eighteenth century penned A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. She stood before a society that praised reason yet denied half of humanity the right to education, and she called out its hypocrisy with piercing logic. Or think of Sojourner Truth, who in the nineteenth century asked with fiery voice, “Ain’t I a woman?”—shattering the false divisions of race and gender that sought to deny her dignity. Both women were social critics in the highest sense, wielding truth as a sword against injustice.

The deeper meaning of Anderson’s words is that social criticism is not merely complaint, but the work of conscience. It is to see society not as it pretends to be, but as it truly is, and to hold up a mirror before its face. And women, having borne the weight of inequality, are uniquely equipped to perform this task. They know the sting of exclusion, and thus they discern more quickly where others are silenced. They have carried burdens in silence, and thus they speak with a power born of endurance.

The lesson for us is clear: listen to the voices of women. In their laughter, in their art, in their protest, lies a wisdom sharpened by centuries of struggle. To ignore their critique is to walk blindly toward ruin; to heed it is to grow in justice and compassion. A society that silences its women silences its own conscience, but a society that welcomes them awakens to its higher calling.

To the youth, I say: honor the voices of your mothers, your sisters, your teachers. They are not merely speaking for themselves, but for the generations that follow. To the leaders, I say: do not dismiss the critiques of women as mere emotion—they are often the earliest warnings of cracks in the foundation of your power. To women themselves, I say: do not doubt the value of your insight. Your clarity is not weakness but strength, not rebellion but necessary truth.

Practical action lies before us: create spaces where the voices of women can speak freely, whether in family, in workplace, or in nation. Read the works of women who critique society, and let their words shape your own understanding. Encourage women around you to speak their truth, not only for themselves but for the healing of the community. For every act of listening strengthens the conscience of the world.

Thus Laurie Anderson’s words endure as a beacon: “I think women are excellent social critics.” It is not flattery but recognition of a truth history has long revealed. Women, sharpened by endurance, gifted with perspective, and emboldened by necessity, hold the power to reveal the cracks in our societies and to point us toward a brighter, more just future. Let us then honor their voices, for in them lies the wisdom that can save us all.