It is one thing to think of Abraham Lincoln as a statue—solemn and still, overlooking the past. But imagine him today: reading the news, scrolling social media, watching congressional hearings. Would he speak the same way? Probably. Would he care about justice? Absolutely. And would he address the unfinished work of gender equality? Without question.
Source: Hyunjinmoon.com
Lincoln was not a feminist in the modern sense—few men of his time were. Yet he understood something timeless: progress is moral. In Lewistown, Illinois (1858), he urged people to be guided by the Declaration of Independence, calling it “an immortal emblem of humanity.” He believed in defending dignity and taught that silence in the face of inequality is complicity.
Picture him pausing over a headline about the gender pay gap, fingers tapping the table. We can almost hear his slow, deliberate voice: “It appears that all are not yet equal in the eyes of labor.”
We need to think of Lincoln not only as a man of history, but as a bridge between past and present. What would a leader of deep moral conviction say about our world today?
“The Same Work, Unequal Pay?”
If Lincoln sat at a town hall in 2025 and listened to a young woman describe earning less than her male peers, how would he respond?
He might begin with a story—he always did. Perhaps one about splitting rails for meager wages, when hard work brought little reward. Then he would pause, letting the silence draw people in, before asking: “Should a person’s wage be measured by their contribution, or by their gender?”
The reality: women still earn less than men across most sectors. In 2024, women in the U.S. earned about 85% of what men earned, a gap largely unchanged in twenty years (Pew Research Center). Lincoln would not see this as a statistic to explain away, but as a contradiction of the promise that “all men are created equal.”
He signed the Emancipation Proclamation not because it was easy or popular, but because it was right. “You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today,” he said. Were he alive now, he would not dismiss unequal pay as market inefficiency. He would call it a moral failure.
Representation Is Not a Favor
Imagine Lincoln at a U.S. Senate hearing: 67 men, 33 women. Or at a Fortune 500 board meeting, noting how few women hold leadership roles. You can almost hear him ask: “Where are the others?”
If, in 1836, Lincoln could support universal suffrage, imagine his words on women’s rights today. He believed in the wisdom of the people—not just the wealthy, not just the educated, not just the men. The strength of the Union, he often said, lay in the character of all its people.
His letter to Albert G. Hodges (1864) declared: “If slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrong.” That conviction in equality demanded participation from all citizens. In today’s terms, it would mean challenging tokenism, performative inclusion, and shallow compromises. He wouldn’t praise a board for one woman among ten. He’d ask why there weren’t five.
Lincoln never settled for appearances. When others sought unity without ending slavery, he refused. If he heard today’s excuses—progress someday, eventually, when the market allows—he would ask what is stopping us now.
Online, But Not Safe
What would Lincoln think of the internet? He’d marvel at its reach, then worry about its misuse.
Women today face not only offline discrimination, but digital harassment: doxing, revenge ****, gender-based abuse. Platforms often fail to act quickly, leaving lasting harm.
Lincoln knew the power of speech—and its potential for cruelty. Newspapers attacked him viciously, yet he defended free expression. For example a print from Currier and Ives in 1864 criticized Lincoln for being inept at “running the machine” of government. But he defended freedom of expression fiercely; while never excusing cruelty masked as opinion. Still, he never excused malice disguised as opinion.
If alive today, he would argue that protecting speech and protecting people are not contradictory. Freedom, he believed, is the right to do what we should, not just what we please. He would call on tech leaders to lead with conscience, to see that algorithms cannot replace ethics. Platforms, like governments, shape societies. They must take responsibility for the worlds they build.
The Work That Still Lies Ahead
Lincoln is remembered not for perfection, but persistence. After losing the 1858 Senate race, he wrote: “The fight must go on.” He never promised America would be perfect in his lifetime. He only insisted on its potential.
If he sat with women from all walks of life—single mothers, CEOs, teachers, soldiers—he would not lecture. He would listen. Then, in his quiet, resolute way, he would remind us that democracy is always incomplete. Rights must be defended, redefined, expanded. No battle for dignity is ever someone else’s fight.
His Second Inaugural Address still echoes: “With malice toward none, with charity for all... let us strive on to finish the work we are in.”
Today, that work includes closing the pay gap, ending digital abuse, and ensuring representation as a right—not a favor.
Source: Chicago Tribune
A Feminist Imagination, Rooted in Justice
To imagine Lincoln today is not to pretend he had all the answers, but to ask what moral clarity looks like in our time. Old words can inspire new resolve.
Lincoln would not accept inequality as the norm. His belief in the capacity of ordinary people to do extraordinary things remains the bedrock of democracy—and, in many ways, of feminism.
He believed in “government of the people, by the people, for the people.” All the people. Not just the privileged. Not just the protected. Not just the powerful.
And that belief, even in 2025, is still radical.
