HBO Max’s new three-part documentary Dear Ms.: A Revolution in Print chronicles the origin, influence and contested legacy of Ms. magazine, the feminist publication that helped bring issues such as abortion, domestic abuse and sexual harassment into mainstream American discourse after its debut in 1972.
Directed in three segments by Salima Koroma, Alice Gu and Cecilia Aldarondo, the film traces how a test issue backed by Gloria Steinem and publishers Letty Cottin Pogrebin and Pat Carbine grew into a national publication that provoked both fervent support and intense backlash. The documentary opens by framing the magazine’s title: “Ms.: A conventional title of courtesy before a woman’s surname. Prefix used instead of Miss or Mrs. (as when the marital status of a woman is unknown or irrelevant),” a definition that signals the broader cultural questions the magazine sought to address.
The first segment, titled "A Magazine for All Women" and directed by Koroma, centers on Ms. co-founder Gloria Steinem and the magazine’s early editorial choices. Steinem and other founding staff members, many of whom began their careers writing for mainstream women’s magazines, sought to create a publication that treated political and personal matters as part of a single conversation about women’s lives. "We didn’t read — they simply didn’t say what are the truths of women’s lives," Steinem says in the film. The documentary highlights the launch issue’s eclectic mix of articles on modern marriage, abortion, race and lesbian identity and notes the test issue’s bold cover featuring the Hindu goddess Kali.
The film recounts the immediate controversy that greeted the magazine. Newsman Harry Reasoner’s scathing review drew national attention even as the first issue quickly sold out. Interviewees in the documentary acknowledge the magazine’s early achievements, including its efforts to link women’s liberation with the civil rights movement, while also addressing shortcomings such as a failure to hire enough Black writers and to put diverse faces on its covers.
Part two, "Ms.: A Portable Friend," directed by Gu, examines the magazine’s relationship with readers and its role in shaping public conversations and policy. Through letters to the editor and contemporaneous coverage, the film makes the case that Ms. helped name and define phenomena that lacked public vocabulary at the time. Terms and concepts such as "battered wives" and "sexual harassment" were not widely used before Ms. ran influential cover stories, and the documentary attributes the magazine in part to the emergence of domestic abuse helplines, support groups and legal frameworks addressing sexual harassment in workplaces.
Several contributors recount the social pushback that accompanied the magazine’s bold stance. Letty Cottin Pogrebin is quoted describing how the publication’s reporting unsettled those who saw established gender roles as a source of power: "We were taking power away from people who thought they were born into it." The film also documents the economic consequences for the magazine, including advertisers’ reluctance to support publications that tackled controversial topics.
The third segment, "No Comment," directed by Aldarondo, focuses on Ms. magazine’s engagement with debates about pornography, censorship and sex work. The film presents archival material and interviews that show how the magazine’s coverage evolved from drawing distinctions between erotica and aggressive pornography to hosting a wider range of viewpoints, including pro-porn advocates. That editorial openness strained relationships with some contributors and readers, notably sparking disputes with anti-pornography feminists such as Andrea Dworkin. The documentary notes that figures from the adult film industry who were initially excluded by the magazine were later invited to contribute; the film cites adult performer and sex-work advocate Annie Sprinkle’s later participation.
The filmmakers do not shy away from the magazine’s internal contradictions. Interviewees reflect that while Ms. advanced conversations about race, reproductive rights and LGBTQIA+ issues, it was staffed and run largely by white women and at times failed to build a fully inclusive movement. Several participants in the film offer candid assessments of those limits and of the broader cultural blind spots of the era.
Dear Ms. places the magazine’s history in cultural context, connecting its trajectory to later dramatizations and interpretations of second-wave feminism. Viewers may see echoes of Ms. in scripted series such as the canceled show Minx, the biopic The Glorias and the series Mrs. America, which revisited 1970s feminist battles over the Equal Rights Amendment.
The documentary also addresses how the magazine’s archival material — including photographic nudity and clips of vintage pornography — figures into contemporary analysis. Filmmakers and interviewees emphasize that such material is presented for context, not titillation, and to illuminate the debates that consumed feminist activists at the time.
Critics and archivists interviewed in the film describe Ms. as both a catalyst and a work in progress. The documentary closes on reflections about the magazine’s enduring influence: it gave language to experiences many women had lacked the vocabulary to express, opening public channels for discussion and helping to spur institutional responses. "Women would say, 'I feel as if a friend came into my door and told me I was not crazy,'" Steinem says in a summation of the magazine’s early effect.
Dear Ms.: A Revolution in Print is positioned as a historical account that balances celebration of Ms.'s achievements with attention to its failures. The film documents how a single publication shifted national conversation and left a contested but lasting imprint on feminist politics, journalism and public policy.