The Legacy of Cecile Richards

When I was young, I asked my card-carrying Republican mother why she supported abortion rights. Her response was simple: “Because you don’t tell women what to do.” That became my guiding political philosophy.

My mom instilled that wisdom in me, but Cecile Richards taught me how to turn it into action.

This month has been heavy. The passing of Cecile Richards on the morning of January 20 after a battle with brain cancer was especially jarring. A stalwart gone too soon — but not without leaving an indelible mark on countless young people like me.

Cecile, a lifelong runner who earned the moniker “Golden Gazelle” for her grace and gait, was a formidable champion of women, girls, and working families. She was also a loving wife, mother, and grandmother — unsurprising given her lineage. Her mom, the late Ann Richards, was the first woman governor of Texas. Ann was the keynote speaker at the 1988 Democratic National Convention and like a real steel magnolia, she commanded the stage with a Texas-sized bouffant and a strand of pearls, and delivered one of best political zingers of all time: “Poor George, he can’t help it … he was born with a silver foot in his mouth!” She nearly blew the roof off the arena with her takedown of George HW Bush! I didn’t know women could dress down powerful men like that, and it still makes my heart flutter.

Cecile was a prominent leader in her own right, had an accomplished career as a union organizer, and served as deputy chief of staff to Speaker Emerita Nancy Pelosi. In 2006, she became CEO of Planned Parenthood Federation of America. I was a college intern at the local Santa Barbara affiliate at the time. Cecile had a profound impact on me. A handful of years after my internship, I landed my dream job as Planned Parenthood’s Director of Public Affairs. While on staff I had the amazing opportunity to spend an afternoon with her touring our health centers. I shared the story of how as a college student, our local health center found pre-cancerous cells in my cervix and got me the care I needed. I wanted to do everything I could to not only give back to the organization, but to help to empower young people into the movement, something she was deeply committed to.

She was laser focused, had a deep sense of purpose, and was so present in all her roles. She could toggle between talking about the details of the vote count of a hostile state legislature trying to erode abortion rights, to discussing key components of a federal judicial strategy, to pivoting to boast about the professional endeavors of her kids and husband.

She was fearless. She raised the profile of the reproductive rights movement, never backed down from a bully or a fight, and helped normalize talking about abortion without shame or stigma. She reminded us that one in four women in the U.S. will have an abortion in their lifetime, and the majority are already mothers. Republican-led efforts to strip away abortion access was nothing more than trying to control us. She helped to ensure that birth control was covered with no copays in the Affordable Care Act. She worked to diversify the staff, donors, and advocates within Planned Parenthood’s ranks, making the movement stronger and more inclusive.

Her leadership shaped the national conversation. It’s no coincidence that, in the wake of the Trump Supreme Court’s disastrous decision to overturn Roe v. Wade, voters — across the political spectrum — have repeatedly overridden politicians and radical judges to restore abortion rights in their states. Without Cecile laying the groundwork, I don’t know if we could have won so many of these fights.

In what ended up being my last work conference before pivoting to start my current career, I had a moment with Cecile that I’ll always cherish. I was wearing a wool sweater by designer Rachel Antonoff, embroidered with the pattern of a uterus. Cecile beelined over to me and proudly bragged that she had the same sweater — gifted to her by actress Lena Dunham. Gleaming, I told her mine was a wedding gift from my husband. She laughed and conceded, “Your story is better.” I’d have to agree.

Cecile often said that when future generations ask, “When there was so much at stake for our country, what did you do?” The only acceptable answer is, “Everything we could.”

She left us too soon, but she built a generation of advocates who are standing up, organizing, and fighting for humane public policies. I am proof of her impact — just as countless others are. There’s no more enduring legacy than that.

Gina Fischer is chief of staff for 3rd District County Supervisor Joan Hartmann.