The total number of suicides reached nearly 50,000 in 2022 — the highest number recorded in United States history, according to Centers for Disease Control and Prevention data published this week. Even though the total number of men who committed suicide outpaced women 4 to 1 in 2022, the suicide rate for women increased twice as much as men from 2021 to 2022. The suicide rate of women increased 4 percent from 2021; for men, it increased by 2 percent.
All age groups for women 25 and older experienced an increase in suicides, with a significant increase for those between 25 and 34.
In the 10 to 14 age group, the suicide rate for men declined 13 percent and declined 22 percent for women; in the 15 to 24 age group, the rate for men decreased 9 percent and decreased 3 percent for women; for the 25 to 34 age group, the rate for men decreased 4 percent and increased 7 percent for women; for the 35 to 44 age group, the rate for men increased 3 percent and increased 5 percent for women; for the 45 to 54 age group, the rate for men increased 6 percent and increased 2 percent for women; for the 55 to 64 age group, the rate for men increased 10 percent and increased 5 percent for women; for the 65 to 74 age group, the rate for men increased 3 percent and increased 7 percent for women; and for the 75 and older age group, the rate for men increased 4 percent and increased 9 percent for women.
The CDC also noted that the number of women suicides is likely higher than reported because their deaths more frequently involve drug poisonings, which take longer to identify as suicides.
The 19th spoke to psychologists, social workers and mental health experts to discuss possible factors contributing to increased suicide rates among women. Many pointed to the COVID-19 pandemic, increasing financial strains and a deluge of caretaking obligations.
Ashley Rondini, an associate professor of sociology at Franklin & Marshall College, said that these patterns are consistent with increases in suicide rates for women globally since the start of the pandemic.
“A combination of factors such as intensified caretaking responsibilities, extended periods of financial instability and increased vulnerability to domestic violence in the context of social isolation in the home, has had deleterious collective impacts on women’s mental health and vulnerability to depression over the past several years,” Rondini said.
Arielle Scoglio, an assistant professor of health studies at Bentley University, said it’s also important to remember how some of the pandemic mitigation strategies caused “social isolation and erosion of social support” for many.
“Suddenly, people had less access to helpers who might identify warning signs for suicide in workplace, school, health care settings, community service settings. Perceived social support and community engagement are known protective factors against suicide.”
Scoglio said women of childbearing age, in particular, also saw less support and increased adversity due to the pandemic: job losses, relational conflicts, lack of child care, food and housing insecurities.
Hyeouk Chris Hahm, an associate dean for research at Boston University School of Social Work, said that suicide is associated with a complex combination of individual, interpersonal and societal factors, making it difficult to pinpoint exact causes. Still, Hahm also mentioned the losses of the pandemic — in addition to a loneliness epidemic, substance use disorder and financial strains in young adulthood — as potential contributors to deteriorating mental wellness and subsequent increased suicide rates.
“Especially among young adults in the U.S., these stresses are often linked to high college costs, student loans and escalating living expenses,” Hahm said. “In addition, the current housing crisis, characterized by a lack of affordable options and high mortgage rates, further crushes many young adults’ dreams of homeownership.”
Men and women in nearly every age and race category have seen increases in suicide rates during the 21st century, leading the U.S. surgeon general in 2021 to issue a call to action on a national strategy for prevention.
Some experts did note positive signals and possible solutions.
Jessica Provines, the assistant vice president of wellness and chief psychologist at Wichita State, has worked in suicide prevention for two decades and helped spearhead Suspenders4Hope, a prevention program with national reach. Provines noted the United States didn’t have a national strategy to address suicide as a public health issue until 2012. But she was encouraged to see the suicide rates for Native American and Alaska Native populations decrease 8 percent in the latest CDC data, a sign that interventions can be successful.
“These high-risk groups have received a lot of resources and focus from suicide prevention efforts, and it indicates to me when prevention efforts are targeted and sustained, we can see positive outcomes on this tragic and painful issue,” Provines said.
It’s also important to continue working to define and track suicides as a cause of death, experts said. For so long, stigma and a lack of clear definitions made it hard to accurately track the problem. The increase in numbers might be attributable to better records, and Provines said instead of getting “too alarmed by these numbers,” we should be focusing on sharing survivor stories and ending stigma to let people know they are not alone and there is hope.
“It’s more important to expand prevention efforts and raise awareness of how common suicidal ideation is with 12.3 million Americans reporting ideation in 2021,” Provines said. “The vast majority of those individuals found a way to survive that crisis. They reached out to the 988 crisis line, left a toxic environment or received treatment.”
Dr. Brooks Keeshin, the director of the Safe & Healthy Families Clinic at the University of Utah, said there also needs to be stronger efforts around suicide death prevention on a national level.
“There needs to be more research into risk, more programs targeting those with known risk factors, better ways to screen and more timely data so that we can shift and enact policy more quickly,” Keeshin said. “We should not rely on data that, in part, was collected nearly two years ago to inform decisions today.”
If you or a loved one are in crisis, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255), or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 74174.
The 19th is an independent, nonprofit newsroom reporting on gender, politics and policy.
The suffragists of the early 20th century famously wore white as they fought for the right for women to vote. On Thursday night, Rep. Liz Cheney also wore white as she centered the role of women in defending democracy once again.
Cheney, a Republican and the vice chair of the Select Committee to Investigate the January 6th Attack on the United States Capitol, invoked history as she asked viewers to seek accountability for the actions of a former president who sought to overturn an election. In her closing remarks, Cheney mentioned the 1918 congressional hearings that led to women’s right to vote and paid tribute to the witnesses who have come forward for their “bravery and honor” as an “inspiration to American women and to American girls.”
“We owe a debt to all of those who have and will appear here,” Cheney said.
Following a line of witnesses before her in previous weeks, Sarah Matthews, the former deputy White House press secretary, testified on Thursday that the attack on the Capitol was the “darkest day in our country’s history” and said Trump’s actions that day cemented her decision to resign that day.
Cheney specifically highlighted the testimony of Cassidy Hutchinson, the former aide to the White House chief of staff, who last month provided a moment-by-moment breakdown of January 6 from her unique vantage point within the former president’s inner circle. Hutchinson described several instances that day where men decades her senior and with far more power called on her to help manage the president’s pronouncements and transport.
“She sat here alone, took the oath and testified before millions of Americans,” Cheney said in reference to Hutchinson, who was 25 when she testified. “She knew all along that she would be attacked by President Trump and by the 50-, 60- and 70-year-old men who hide themselves behind executive privilege. But like our witnesses today, she has courage and she did it anyway. Cassidy, Sarah and our other witnesses, including Officer Caroline Edwards, Shaye Moss and her mother, Ruby Freeman, are an inspiration to American women and to American girls.”
During the panel’s first hearing, Capitol Police Officer Caroline Edwards, who was tear-gassed and knocked unconscious on the steps of the Capitol, recalled that January 6 was a “war scene” with officers on the ground, throwing up and bleeding. In another hearing, Ruby Freeman and her daughter, Shaye Moss, both election workers in Georgia, described in detail what it felt like to be singled out by former President Donald Trump and his advisors. Freeman and Moss faced sexualized threats, home break-ins and death threats after officials made baseless claims into the integrity of their work counting votes.
Kristin Olbertson, an associate professor at Alma College in Michigan, said Cheney’s choice of language in highlighting the women witnesses was intentional, especially since she noted that some older men in Trump’s orbit pointed to executive privilege in refusing to fully testify. Separately, the panel showed video footage of Sen. Josh Hawley of Missouri running from the Capitol, avoiding the same people he had seemingly encouraged hours before.
“Women are appearing in all of her comments as active, as courageous, as being actors for democracy,” she said.
Cheney’s closing remarks included a summary of Trump’s actions on January 6 and how his public rhetoric was tied to his efforts to overturn the 2020 election results. Cheney asked viewers whether Trump, who is considering another run for president, should ever be trusted again with any position of power.
“I read them as really pitched toward, or oriented toward, the importance of voting and voters in a democratic system of government,” Olbertson said. “Reminding us that ultimately, the authority lies with voters, that we delegate our authority to our representatives and government by exercising our right to vote, that that right has been hard fought for the majority in fact of the population and we ought not take it for granted. And it really stands in contrast with the violent mob actions on January 6 at the Capitol, that that was profoundly undemocratic.”
Cheney also noted the significance of the room as a convening place in 1918 for members of Congress to discuss women’s suffrage.
“This room is full of history, and we on this committee know we have a solemn obligation not to idly squander what so many Americans have fought and died for,” she said.
Rachel Gunter is a Texas-based historian who studies women’s suffrage and married women’s citizenship, which was based on their husband’s citizenship status in the Progressive Era. She said there’s significance in Cheney highlighting the year 1918 instead of the 1920 ratification of the 19th Amendment that gave women the right to vote based on sex — a right primarily granted to White women — and connecting it to the hearings happening now.
“I think she’s trying to make the point that hearings have done things for democracy in our past,” she said. “We need to not underestimate what hearings can do. Because 1918 — nobody really knew if that thing was gonna pass. It’d been blocked several times. They weren’t sure. … We look back at 1918 going, ‘Well, of course two years before suffrage.’ But in 1918, they had no idea if they would win or not.”
Joanna Lydgate, CEO of the States United Democracy Center, tied the committee’s work to a history of women working to defend elections and democracy, citing Cheney and Rep. Elaine Luria of Virginia, the only Democrat on the panel whose seat is in a swing district.
“The political courage of women from both parties has been front and center in the January 6 Select Committee hearings,” Lydgate said in a statement. “Just last night, we saw both Rep. Liz Cheney and Rep. Elaine Luria put the country above politics, at risk to their careers, to bring accountability for the January 6 insurrection. Despite threats to their safety, Republican staffers have bravely testified about their experiences.”
Cheney is one of just two Republicans on the committee. House Republican leadership said they would not participate in an investigation after House Speaker Nancy Pelosi rejected two of their five appointees to the committee. Pelosi later appointed two Republicans, Cheney and Rep. Adam Kinzinger of Illinois.
One of only a few Republicans to publicly oppose Trump, Cheney faces a primary challenge next month from a candidate backed by the former president. But while her place in Trump’s Republican Party may not be clear, she holds many conservative views. She opposes abortion and celebrated the overturning of Roe v. Wade.
“I think she’s trying to find a vision of women’s empowerment that works for conservative voters, for her views, and possibly for the Republican Party going forward … and trying to find a path forward that doesn’t paint them as anti-woman for doing that,” Gunter said.
Cheney on Thursday night quoted Margaret Thatcher, a conservative and the first woman prime minister of the United Kingdom, saying: “Let it never be said that the dedication of those who love freedom is less than the determination of those who would destroy it.”
Jean Sinzdak, associate director of the Center for American Women and Politics, believes Cheney’s wardrobe was also aimed at sending a message, especially as she weighs her political future. She is currently seeking reelection in the House, but her supporters have floated her name as a future presidential candidate.
“It wasn’t accidental that she was wearing a white jacket, which is a symbol of the suffrage movement. Or that she invoked that particular moment in history in this closing speech. She doesn’t strike me as somebody who does things accidentally and so I have to believe there’s a strategy behind it.”
She added: “Let me assure every one of you this: Our committee understands the gravity of this moment, the consequences for our nation. We have much work yet to do.”
The panel, which was formed on July 1, 2021, held its first hearing on June 9. At the time, there were six hearings tentatively scheduled. In total, they’ve amassed evidence through interviews with more than 1,000 people, more than 100 issued subpoenas and dozens of recorded depositions. Still, the panel said new information continues to flood in and the investigation is ongoing.
Hearings will resume in September after Congress returns from a lengthy recess. It’s not clear how many more hearings will be scheduled before the committee is set to dissolve in January 2023, the start of a new Congress.
“Let me assure every one of you this,” Cheney said Thursday night. “Our committee understands the gravity of this moment, the consequences for our nation. We have much work yet to do.”
Whether distributed by boat, dog sled, snow machine or plane, vaccines have been given to more than half of all eligible Alaskans, according to Dr. Anne Zink, the state's chief medical officer. The state has the highest per capita vaccination rate in the country.
In a conversation with The 19th, Zink and Sen. Lisa Murkowski of Alaska joined Washington correspondent Amanda Becker to discuss how the largest geographical state — bigger than California, Texas and Montana combined — has managed to blaze the trail in vaccine distribution.
Zink attributed the state's success to three major factors: a centralized public health infrastructure, investment in public health and community partnerships, and creativity needed to overcome geographic barriers.
“We work very closely with the tribes," Zink said. “Public health is tribal health in the state. They are incredibly intertwined. You know, over 50 percent of our testing sites are at tribal health sites, and so we built our entire vaccine team in partnership with our tribal team at every single level — from communication to planning to operation."
The state's pandemic response is also largely driven by the oral history of the 1918 pandemic that has been passed down by Native people, Zink said. Many tribes were devastated by the spread of influenza more than a century ago and again with COVID-19. The Alaskan Native population — which currently constitutes about one-fifth of the people in the state — has seen a disproportionate number of COVID-19 cases, hospitalizations and deaths, Zink said.
“Languages were lost," she said. “Culture was lost, and that has affected our Alaskan Native people for 100 years since then. That's a story that looms large … and I think in a larger, cultural context, in the U.S. we have forgotten about the 1918 pandemic."
Alaska has always been challenged by its geography and extreme weather elements, Murkowski said. “You have small, small village communities that are not accessible by road," Murkowski said. “You have to fly in by small airplane or during the winter time, you might be able to take a snow machine or dog sled. In the summer, you might be able to go up by riverboat."
Many of these villages are overcrowded and lack running water and sanitation, which makes it “pretty tough" to wash one's hands, keep clean and keep physical distance from others, Murkowski said. In response to pandemics, many of these communities attempt to completely close themselves off from outsiders.
Because of this hunkering down, especially during this past long and cold Alaskan winter, Murkowski said officials are seeing “disturbing" and increasing instances of domestic violence, child sexual assault, substance abuse and suicides. Some are feeling trapped in their homes without the escape of school, work or neighboring shelters. Murkowski, along with Sen. Jeanne Shaheen of New Hampshire, is working to ensure that some COVID-19 relief is directed toward these victims.
Though there didn't seem to be a big uptick in reported suicides or homicides last year, Zink said the data showed a significant increase in the state's call lines overall.
“I am concerned that we will see this linger," Murkowski said. “It may be that we will actually see it grow in the aftermath of COVID … I am worried about what we will see going forward, and the trauma that many will carry with them long after COVID is gone."
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On January 6, a mob of Donald Trump's supporters stormed the U.S. Capitol and temporarily halted the certification of the legitimate results of the 2020 election. The president, at a rally that day, had encouraged thousands of his supporters to “take back our country." In the Capitol, rioters fought with police, smashed windows and ransacked offices. The insurrection left 140 police officers injured and at least five people dead.
This week, the story is being told again at the impeachment trial in the Senate, Trump's second. House impeachment managers are using videos — including footage of rioters roaming the halls in search of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and former Vice President Mike Pence and a police officer screaming as he is crushed by a door — as evidence in their case against the former president.
The 19th reached out to all 143 women in the 117th Congress to ask about their experiences January 6. Twenty-three, all Democrats, shared their points of view, many remembering new details after a month of processing. We have also collected statements and outside interviews with other women lawmakers.
Some of the lawmakers recalled texting their loved ones goodbye while crouching behind chairs in the House chamber. Others remembered barricading themselves in offices, while several described running through the hallways toward safety, terrified that they'd be killed at every turn. Here are their stories, as told to The 19th.
'I was concerned about violence, but I always thought that would stay outside'
There were protests planned for January 6 by people who wrongly believed the election was stolen from Trump. Lawmakers had been told to get to the Capitol by 9 a.m.
Rep. Sara Jacobs of California: I got to the office early that morning, around 7:30 a.m or 8 a.m. I was excited to see the proceedings and planned to celebrate the previous day's Senate election wins in Georgia with Rep. Nikema Williams. Well, I had seen what was going on in social media, so I was concerned about safety. I was concerned about violence at protests, but I always thought that would stay outside.
Rep. Teresa Leger Fernandez of New Mexico: It was my third day on the job, and I was pretty darn excited because we had just found out that two Democratic senators would be joining us from Georgia and we were going to certify the new president. My 20-year-old son — the youngest of three boys — came with me to the office that day. He knew it was going to be a long day, but he was excited so he brought a pillow and wore his suit.
Rep. Barbara Lee of California: I decided to wear tennis shoes that day, because I knew that something was going to go down. I remembered on September 11, I was in the Capitol and we had to evacuate early that morning, too. I had high heels on then and had to run up Pennsylvania Avenue. I've been listening to Trump's rhetoric for four years and his reaction to the white supremacists at Charlottesville, and as a Black woman, I knew what was happening.
Rep. Frederica Wilson of Florida: I was terrified that day, because I knew something bad was going to happen. I had even called the Capitol Police before I came to D.C. and told her they needed more precautions, taller barriers and reinforcements. I was scared to come to the Capitol, because I've had Trump supporters call my home saying they were going to kill me and others have sent me a noose. My driver brought me to the Capitol around 10:30 a.m., just in time for me to vote before the certification, and I went back to the car around 11 a.m. The crowd had more than doubled in that time.
Rep. Lizzie Fletcher of Texas: That day, I think I had a heightened awareness going in. My husband had come to D.C. with me over the weekend and said he'd stay through Wednesday because it could be a dangerous day. I don't think anyone had a sense of exactly what would happen, but we all got notice to be there by 9 a.m. and to use the tunnels. I expected to be there until noon the next day, bringing food and a blanket and ready for whatever was going to happen. My husband came with me because my staff was working remotely.
Shortly after 1 p.m., Vice President Mike Pence and senators joined House members in the House chamber to start a joint session to confirm the election's results. Then the House and Senate went to their separate chambers to debate challenges to the results.
Rep. Lois Frankel of Florida: I was one of the first members in the gallery. As I was watching, other members started to come into the gallery, and it got quite crowded. I said to myself, “There's too many people here for COVID," so I decided to leave the gallery, which I'm glad I did. [Rep. Abigail] Spanberger, a friend and former CIA official, told me to take off my member pin and tell people I'm a secretary. I thought: really? I went up to a Capitol Police officer on my way out, and she looked at me and said: “You're safe. We have you covered."
Rep. Norma Torres of California: I started to think, “What's my plan here? Maybe I should go to the bathroom now, because it might be a long time before I can leave." I took the elevator one floor down. I was feeling a bit anxious and wanted to calm down. When I went back to the gallery, I saw sergeants in suits running back and forth. I could hear radio traffic. I was a 911 dispatcher for 17 years and am trained to listen for keywords, but I couldn't make anything out — just very, very loud screaming. I could hear the shouting from outside getting louder, and I was ushered quickly back into the gallery.
Rep. Brenda Lawrence of Michigan: I was in the gallery because I'm from Michigan, one of the contested states, and wanted to be prepared when it was our turn to debate. I decided to go to the bathroom, and my daughter called me as I left the chamber. She asked where I was and if I knew what was going on. I told her I was at the Capitol and I didn't. “Mom," she said, “you need to get out of there. You need to leave right now. Mom, promise me." When I was in the stall, I heard a man screaming, asking “Who's in there?" I didn't know who it was, so I stayed in the stall and kept quiet. Later, another man came in, identified him as Capitol Police and said I had to get out now. I tried to wash my hands, but he practically pushed me out and onto the House floor.
'Clearly something was wrong'
Rep. Ann McLane Kuster of New Hampshire: At about 1:30 p.m., as the joint session was dissolved and the vice president and senators left the chamber, I realized “Wow, we're going to be here a long time." I decided to take a break, find a ladies room, and I was directed to a place I'd never been. I walked down a hallway, and there were reporters sitting on the floor typing stories and photographers. I made a phone call around 1:55 p.m., and then a female reporter told me that the crowd was really growing outside. We looked out a window, but I couldn't see down the Mall. Then a man came through the press gallery and said, “This is not for attribution, but we are in a lockdown."
Rep. Abigail Spanberger of Virginia: Those of us in the gallery were seated multiple seats apart from each other, but it's not a huge space, so we were still chit-chatting. Speaker Nancy Pelosi was in the speaker's chair. Her security detail came in and took her out around 2:10 p.m., but it looked like she wasn't inclined to leave. All of a sudden, there was a rumble of tenseness in the room because clearly there was something wrong.
Rep. Betty McCollum of Minnesota: I was in my office with my legislative director and a new fellow. We were watching things get more raucous on the television, as the large crowd began pushing against the hip-high police barriers. I told my fellow to grab her laptop so I could walk her through the tunnel to leave. I didn't want her near that crowd. We were just a minute away from the exit when a police officer stopped us and closed the door. The Capitol was moments from being breached. We were told we couldn't go back to my office building, so we went to the 7th floor, found an office with a staffer and locked the door behind us.
Rep. Marie Newman of Illinois: I was with about five or six of my staff members that day in my office. We kept our door locked and the news playing on the TV, but I had no idea how serious the situation was until I started seeing rioters scale a wall around 1 or 2 p.m. It looked like a practiced military exercise; I saw some even had maps in their hands. I kept thinking the National Guard would show up in a jiffy, but they didn't.
Frankel: About 10 minutes after I had left the gallery due to COVID-19 concerns, I walked into a lounge room about 15 yards from the chamber to wait for my turn to vote. A couple minutes later, I heard a loud alarm: “Alert, alert, alert! Take cover, lock doors, get gas masks." It was alarming. I made eye contact with [Rep.] Grace Meng, a colleague and the only other person in the room. We started barricading the doors, piling chairs. Then we found an inner room, locked the door and moved more chairs against the door. My son called me at this time and tried to explain how to barricade the door. We could hear noises but didn't know what was going on.
Rep. Carolyn Maloney of New York: I watched the proceedings on the television in my office. I became alarmed when a security detail surrounded Rep. Steny Hoyer, the House majority leader, and whisked him out of the room very quickly. If I remember correctly, the screen just went sort of blank at this point. I couldn't see what was happening on the House floor, but I could see the west front of the building. I noticed a large group of people walking through an entrance that isn't open to the public.
The rioters broke into the Capitol about 2:15 p.m., and both chambers adjourned a few minutes later.
Lawrence: An officer with a walkie-talkie interrupted the proceedings, went to the mic and told us: “The Capitol has been breached." A few minutes later, another police officer told everyone to take cover. Soon after, we heard banging on the door. It was vibrating, and I thought “Oh my God. Am I going to die today? Is this it? Am I going to die today?" I thought of my daughter telling me to get out. I stood, I knelt and then stood back up again because I didn't know what to do. Then some officers came in and ushered those of us on the House floor out. As I was leaving, I turned around, looked up at the gallery and asked a nearby officer: “What about them?"
Rep. Kathleen Rice of New York: I was barricaded in an office with a colleague just one floor below where the rioters broke in on the west side. For about an hour, it sounded like there was a herd of elephants smashing through windows and making all this noise.
Rep. Judy Chu of California: I decided to watch the debate from my office. I was all alone because my staff was working from home. I was watching the news and C-SPAN, keeping an eye on the inside and outside of the building. I was shocked out of my mind when I saw the rioters smashing the windows and attacking the Capitol police. I saw the Confederate and Trump flags and locked my door, turned the lights off and refused to come out for at least six to seven hours — two hours longer than I needed to.
Rep. Cheri Bustos of Illinois: I was on the House floor, along with 25 other Democrats and 24 Republicans. I was sitting in a row with the other two co-chairs of the Steering and Policy Committee, a leadership position that allows us to sit alongside the speaker, the majority leader and the majority whip. When we were told the Capitol had been breached, Rep. Dean Phillips — a Democrat in the gallery — started yelling at the Republicans that this was their fault and several yelled back in response. At this point, what's going through my mind is how I'm going to fit under these chairs given my height. What was I going to do if someone came storming in with automatic weapons firing?
Rep. Veronica Escobar of Texas: When Phillips stood up and started yelling at the Republicans for their role in this violence, I stood up and yelled, “I'm with you, buddy." I remember hearing the pounding. I began to feel rage more than fear. I was feeling anxious, nervous, deeply unsettled and rage. I could not believe that these people had made it all the way up the Capitol steps and that our constitutional duty was being obstructed. It had not really clicked in a meaningful way just how much danger we were in.
Members of Congress were instructed to put on these gas masks. Photo by Rep. Barbara Lee
Lee: I was next to Cheri Bustos and Eric Swalwell on the House floor when they told us to wear gas masks. We were trained on how to use them right after September 11, but we hadn't been trained in the last 10 years. I was trying to figure out how to open it and put it on — I think I put it on the wrong way. [Rep.] Ruben Gallego, who is a former Marine, got up on a table and started instructing people in the gallery and on the House floor on how to use the gas masks. I just kept thinking: “I have to be clear about what I'm doing. Don't panic. Keep your mind on what to do." I'm also very aware of the possibility of getting COVID-19 in the largely unmasked crowd. I was dodging the virus and trying not to get killed at the same time.
Rep. Suzanne Bonamici of Oregon: The squawk box in my office started making a very, very loud siren-like sound, and I got scared. It had never gone off before. I was glad my staff was here with me. Once we heard that, we received text and email alerts from Capitol police. There was an external threat. That means curtains closed, doors locked, lights down and be quiet.
Rep. Haley Stevens of Michigan: I was watching the television in my office. It was alarming and unusual that people were entering the building. “Had some deal been struck?" I thought. Then I saw the broken windows and realized they were storming the building. Right around 2:30 p.m., we started getting a lot of text messages — including from my fiancé back home in Michigan — as people watched the news. “Are you alright? Are you alright?"
Wilson: I watched the siege from my apartment, five blocks away, after having left the Capitol hours before. I thought I was going to have a heart attack, because none of my colleagues could see what I was seeing. I kept texting them: “There's thousands of people outside; they are breaking into the Capitol; and they are taking a woman out on a gurney and she has a gaping hole in her neck."
'I couldn't believe this was happening in my own country'
Jacobs: They told us in the gallery to be ready to take the gas masks from under our seats and prepare to evacuate, even while it seemed the debate was still going on. There was tear gas in the rotunda, the police said. I had a really hard time opening the packaging for the escape hood. I texted my parents and told them I was in the safest place I could be.
Rep. Mikie Sherrill of New Jersey: The last time I had a gas mask on was when I was in the military, but these looked very different. I turned to other members who looked a little shell shocked and made sure they were following instructions. I've been trained in the military on how to evacuate people in situations like this — so I wanted to help, but I didn't want to be in the way. I focused on helping other members get across the gallery, particularly [Rep.] Pramila Jayapal, who had just had surgery and was struggling with a cane. At one point, I was on the ground and thought to call my husband to let him know I was OK.
Spanberger: It was a chaotic situation, the gas masks were making this buzzing noise, and my husband texted me that it doesn't look good. Attempting to maintain some level of humor, I had told him, “Don't worry, my hair's back in a ponytail," which to me, means I'm ready to fight. I had my pen in hand, I told him I wasn't going to go down without stabbing it in someone's neck — a bit of dark humor. We joked that surely I would gain some Twitter followers if I took down some would-be Nazis. I'm a former CIA officer, trained for a whole host of uncomfortable situations.
Pence in the chamber before the attack, left. National Guard troops after the attack. (Photos courtesy of Congresswoman Jackie Speier)
Rep. Jackie Speier of California: There was this loud pounding — the rioters wanted to break through. The officers put a large piece of furniture in front of the door and pulled their guns. I was lying on the floor in the second row of the gallery. And then I heard a gunshot ring out. I placed my cheek on the marble floor and thought, “Oh my God, I have survived the jungles of Guyana and here I am, in my own country, in this tabernacle of democracy, and I may be losing my life." I flashed back to that primitive airstrip in 1978: Congressman Leo Ryan was shot 45 times and died; I was shot five times and lay there, waiting for the shooting to stop and preparing to die. I couldn't believe this was happening in my own country.
Rep. Rosa DeLauro of Connecticut: I had my gas mask and was grabbing my stuff when the chaplain went to the podium and said a prayer of peace. We started making our way across the gallery, but there are railings every few seats, so we had to keep ducking under. Someone said it felt like we were doing the limbo. The glass was being smashed by the rioters, so our security told us to get down and someone shouted to take off our congressional pins. I was lying on the floor, and I had very little juice left in my phone, but I called my husband. I was afraid to say “I love you," because it harkened back to 9/11.
Kuster: When a group of men pushed couches in front of the door and drew their guns, this was the scariest moment for me. What if the first people through that door have automatic weapons and they're looking for members of Congress? I grabbed Rep. Sara Jacobs and said, “We've got to get around this corner and duck down behind the railing of the gallery to make sure we are out of the line of fire." Shortly after that, a policeman finally said, “Go, go, go, we've got to get you out of here." He told us to put the gas masks on and then run, but keep down to go underneath these railings all along the full length of the Capitol. We got to an elevator, and I was having kind of a panic attack and couldn't breathe. I said, “What if the elevator doors open and we got shot?" An officer stood in front of the doors and assured me, “Ma'am, I am here to protect you."
Escobar: I made my way from one side of the gallery to the other amid the “Get down! Take cover!" screams, and when we got there, we were again instructed to get down. I was watching the police officers with their guns pointed at the terrorists. I could see their faces through the broken glass on the door, and I remember feeling very afraid for the police because I thought they were going to get shot in the head.
Torres: When the officer yelled, “Get up! Go! Go! Go!" I stayed behind to make sure the older members, those recovering from surgeries and others who needed assistance were not left behind. I didn't realize that I would miss my short window to leave and be pinned down on the floor again. It happened so quickly. The officer closed the door, told us to get on the ground and then said we had to get and move in the opposite direction because the officers couldn't hold the line. About 15 to 20 minutes later, after crawling to the other side of the balcony, an officer opened a door and told us to run.
'The officer told me to take my shoes off, because we had to run faster'
Jacobs: When the elevator doors opened, we started running through hallways. We could hear the mob behind us and Capitol police running, and that's when I was really scared. I really thought that we were going to be killed. So I was thinking about what messages we needed to send to my team to make sure they would use this situation to at least create some good. I remember thinking to myself over and over again: I don't even know how to get out in normal times. It's my fourth day. I don't know how to get out.
Torres: When we ran out of the gallery, there was a group of men — not in uniform — running toward us. Some of my colleagues started screaming, some started praying harder. We were shocked. We thought it was the mob coming after us. But then they started yelling, “We are your security. We're here to protect you." They surrounded us and we kept running down the stairwells. During this time, my son, who is a police officer, called me. I answered the phone and said, “Sweetheart, I'm fine, and I'm running for my life. I cannot talk to you right now."
Rice: My colleague and I were still in the office watching the TV; the sounds of the rioters had quieted as they moved toward the chambers. An officer eventually came to get us. The Capitol Police had set up a water eye rinsing station nearby to flush the rioters' pepper spray out. We ran for nearly 15 minutes through the basement tunnels. We didn't see any rioters, but at one point, the officer told me to take my shoes off, because we had to run faster. It was just horrifying.
Escobar: I was in the last group to leave the gallery, along with Mikie Sherrill, because Pramila Jayapal was using a cane and we stayed behind to make sure she got out safe. I don't remember there being a police officer there to escort us out. As we descended the stairs, going from the third floor to the second, I turned and saw men with long guns facedown on the floor and officers surrounding them with drawn guns. The men on the ground were looking right at us. It was just awful.
Sherrill: We ended up sort of leading the group to a secure location. It felt like it took forever to get to the safe room because as we got to the bottom of each stairway or went to turn a corner, we didn't know if we would encounter a mob. I kept eyeing the elevators because that would have been so much more convenient, but I don't think any of us wanted to get on and have the doors open up to a mob.
Bustos: While in the crowded safe room, we were sent Skittles and water; we hadn't eaten lunch. Some people were angry that certain members were not wearing face masks. At one point, the chaplain came in and said a prayer. After several hours, Speaker Pelosi finally came and told us that we weren't going to let the mob win. We didn't leave the room until about 8 p.m.
'I was in shock, not feeling emotions'
Lawrence: When we finally walked back to the Capitol, we passed broken glass and tear gas canisters. It was eerie, the most eerie feeling. The bathroom I had been in earlier was right by where the woman was shot. I was in shock, not feeling emotions and just going through the motions.
Torres: Those who had been in the gallery decided to stay together when we went back on the House floor, because our constituents needed to see us finish our job. Walking back through halls that I had just been running for my life in brought a lot of trauma. I was terrified to even open my office door. I ran and grabbed my ceremonial bat and checked the three rooms in my office. Then I went to the bathroom, washed my face and arms and then sat down and cried. Then I finally made a call to my husband, which up until that point, I had avoided.
Bonamici: In between the Arizona and Pennsylvania vote around midnight, I tried to take a little nap in my office. I was physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted, but I couldn't even close my eyes. What if someone tries to knock on the door? What if someone got in my hallway? I didn't rest.
Fernandez: When my son and I finally got home and were in a safe place, he looked at me and said, “I just need to be by myself," and I thought, “My God, this kid just went through a traumatic event." That's when I cried, and I thought of my colleagues. All the trauma just keeps building.
Bustos: I couldn't get out of Washington fast enough, so I flew home early the next morning. It was the worst flight of my life. The plane was filled with people who had hours earlier stormed the Capitol. In the middle of the flight, 30,000 feet in the air, the woman in front of me stood up, ripped off her mask and started yelling: “Patriots! When you get home, you need to storm your capitols. This can't end." There were loud chants in the back. I kept my coat on and didn't wear my congressional pin, because I didn't want them to know I was a member of Congress, someone they wanted to kill or maim the previous day.
Rep. Susie Lee of Nevada: I definitely underreacted on January 6. It wasn't until I flew home to Las Vegas the next day when it caught up to me. I started to see all of the videos that people had taken from their own cameras: the police officer getting crushed in the door, the officers getting overrun without helmets and the hand-to-hand combat. By Saturday, I had to turn the TV off because it was triggering to hear that noise and hear how much danger we were really in. That's when I broke down. And now I have to ask myself, “Am I even safe in my own district? In my own home?"
Fletcher: The idea that we should just “move on" remains the most terrifying to me. Many, many years ago, I volunteered at a domestic abuse shelter, and it felt like people kept saying, “don't impeach the president or it might happen again." That's just the language of abuse.
More lawmakers, in their own words
A number of other women lawmakers released statements or documented their experiences. Find them here:
“The QAnon stuff infiltrated Instagram and seeped into the suburban consciousness of American women to a certain extent, and they bought into it,” according to experts.
Since the internet’s advent, conspiracy theories have acquired followings online. Now, in the era of social media, people use platforms like Facebook, Twitter and YouTube to spread disinformation and misinformation. Instagram, the Facebook-owned image platform where influencers tout luxury, beauty and consumer culture, has also become an online home for conspiracies. And lately, one has been particularly prolific: QAnon.
Researchers have seen a significant uptick in online discussions related to QAnon — a far-right conspiracy theory — across multiple digital platforms this year. In March, membership within QAnon Facebook groups increased by 120 percent; one journalist tracking the impact of QAnon found that between January and August, the biggest Instagram “Q” accounts “generated 63 million interactions and 133 million video views.”
The platforms are now taking action. Facebook, which acquired Instagram for $1 billion in 2012, cracked down on October 6, saying, “we will remove any Facebook Pages, Groups and Instagram accounts representing QAnon, even if they contain no violent content.” On October 15, YouTube announced in a blog post that it would “prohibit content that targets an individual or group with conspiracy theories that have been used to justify real-world violence.” TikTok —which has 100 million monthly active American users — as well as several smaller platforms, including Pinterest, Etsy, Peloton and Triller, have also taken a stance against QAnon.
Still, conspiracies and disinformation have a way of finding new audiences. In recent months, QAnon content has become more prevalent on Instagram, a platform used predominantly by women, who appear to be the new target of this misinformation, according to experts.
What is disinformation and how is it different from misinformation?
Misinformation is the inadvertent sharing of false information. Disinformation is the deliberate creation and sharing of information known to be false.
Claire Wardle — the founder of First Draft, a nonprofit focused on research and practice to address mis- and disinformation — identified seven distinct types of problematic content in the information ecosystem. Each type sits on a scale that loosely measures the intent to deceive, from satire or parody to intentionally fabricated content.
The deep anxiety and economic insecurity catalyzed by the coronavirus pandemic coupled with the unrest that resulted from the summer’s protests left people especially vulnerable to disinformation. Conspiracy theorists try to exploit vulnerabilities, according to Rich Hanley, an associate journalism professor at Quinnipiac University.
“In a world that doesn’t make sense, if you can create a narrative that seems to be credible, goes to people’s emotional core and has a kernel of truth within it, then that narrative is going to take off,” said Hanley, who studies fake news dissemination and social media bots.
What is QAnon?
QAnon is a “wide-ranging conspiracy theory that claims that an elite group of child-trafficking pedophiles have been ruling the world for a number of decades and that President Donald Trump has a secret plan in place to bring this group to justice,” according to a 2020 report published by the Institute for Strategic Dialogue, a London-based think tank that tracks online extremism.
An infamous conspiracy theory that is considered a predecessor to QAnon was Pizzagate, which falsely claimed a pizza restaurant in Washington, D.C., secretely harbored a pedophilia ring. In 2016, a man who believed the conspiracy theory was real went to the restaurant with an AR-15.
QAnon started in October 2017 when someone identified as “Q” began posting a series of cryptic messages on 4chan, an anonymous online forum used by mostly young men. Q claimed to have high-level security clearance and information about Trump’s ongoing battle against “the deep state,” the Institute for Strategic Dialogue report said. One or more users claiming to be Q have continued to post thousands of times over the next few years on the site, which has been known to be a hotbed of hoaxes.
You probably have a neighbor that is QAnon, but not all your neighbors are QAnon.
Melissa Ryan, who helps policymakers and institutions combat extremism
Researchers observed a significant increase in online QAnon discussions in 2020 amid the coronavirus pandemic, the nationwide Black Lives Matter protests and the run-up to the presidential election. The theory now includes anti-vaccine, anti-5G, antisemitic and anti-migrant rhetoric, all in addition to the core belief that a consortium of elites are supposedly trafficking and sacrificing children.
“It’s kind of a choose your own adventure,” said Melissa Ryan, who helps policymakers and institutions combat extremism. “Whatever beliefs you’re inclined to believe, someone at QAnon will tell you that’s right.”
From October 2017 to June 2020, the Institute for Strategic Dialogue recorded more than 69 million tweets, 487,000 Facebook posts and 281,000 Instagram posts mentioning QAnon-related hashtags and phrases.
“I would suspect that a lot of right-wing content is over-amplified on how many people believe it,” Ryan said. “The radicalization potential is still quite high. I would say you probably have a neighbor that is QAnon, but not all your neighbors are QAnon.”
Are conspiracy theories new?
Conspiracy theorists have always existed, but it used to take disinformation much longer to spread, Hanley said.
“If you were a Soviet intelligence officer during the Cold War and you wanted to spread misinformation about AIDS and blame the U.S. for it, you basically had to start a fake newspaper in some out-of-the-way country, publish a story about American scientists working for the Department of Defense, and wait two to three years for that fake story to wind its way to Europe and then the United States,” Hanley said. “Now, you can do it virtually in seconds.”
The theory that an elite group of people are plotting to control the world by drinking the blood of children has roots in antisemitic conspiracy theories that date back hundreds of years, Hanley said. An iteration of that narrative was also told during the 19th century, when Native Americans were said to be kidnapping White children.
“Today’s version spreads so efficiently and effortlessly,” Hanley said. “And it’s believed by more people than was physically possible before.”
Why is disinformation spreading on Instagram?
A 2019 report published from the New York University Stern Center for Business and Human Rights predicted that Instagram could be a magnet for disinformation and misinformation in 2020 — more so than Facebook, Twitter or YouTube.
Instagram, which is most popular with 18 to 29-year-olds, played “a much bigger role in Russia’s 2016 election manipulation than most people realize,” the report said. There are more than one billion active users currently on the image-based platform.
Hanley said more and more Instagram users, more than half of which are women, are spreading QAnon conspiracies — many unintentionally.
It appears that several conspiracies migrated from 4chan to Instagram via YouTube beauty and wellness influencers who used to share content about magic formulas, oils and crystals.
Then, earlier this summer, QAnon gained additional followers after it hijacked #SaveTheChildren, a hashtag related to real anti-human-trafficking causes. This tactic of co-opting the hashtag helped amplify and expose Q messaging to American moms.
The QAnon stuff infiltrated Instagram and seeped into the suburban consciousness of American women.
Rich Hanley, associate journalism professor at Quinnipiac University
A lot of the content isn’t explicitly QAnon, but is connected to the conspiracy when traced back to its source, Hanley added.
“The QAnon stuff infiltrated Instagram and seeped into the suburban consciousness of American women to a certain extent, and they bought into it,” Hanley said. “The key is the children.”
“Human trafficking is an issue, and one that needs to be taken seriously,” Hanley said. “What QAnon is doing is riding on that reality to create an alternate reality where there’s an elite group of wealthy globalists who are trafficking in the blood of children. There is no evidence, but there’s enough truth in the stories: the vulnerability of the young.”
Haiyan Jia, an assistant journalism professor at Lehigh University, said visual content — Instagram’s primary method of communication — tends to have a stronger, more emotional appeal. People who make judgments based on their emotions tend to do so to the detriment of logic and rationality.
It’s not just Instagram, though. QAnon theories can be found across many platforms, including more niche ones like Nextdoor and Peloton. If there’s a social media application, there will be disinformation associated with it, Hanley said.
Information on social media is transmitted through social circles. It’s not always clear where posts originated from, complicating their credibility, Jia said.
“We rely on our friends and family to make the judgment instead of analyzing the actual information,” said Jia, who researches the psychological and social effects of communication technology. “If you trust the person who shared, you are more likely to trust the information.”
What can be done?
In early October, Facebook announced that it would remove any Facebook pages, groups and Instagram accounts representing QAnon — whether or not they contain violent content.
“We began directing people to credible child safety resources when they search for certain child safety hashtags last week — and we continue to work with external experts to address QAnon supporters using the issue of child safety to recruit and organize,” the company said.
Despite the platform’s efforts, 64 percent of Americans believe Facebook is at least somewhat responsible for spreading disinformation and 46 percent think Instagram is at least somewhat responsible for spreading disinformation, according to the NYU study.
Bouygues said the responsibility also falls on the government and the people to learn better media literacy, use critical thinking and fact-check information more thoroughly. The government should sponsor this type of education in schools and finance more institutional media sources, she said.
First Draft provides resources, including checklists and recommended tips, to help journalists and anyone who is interested in verifying information. According to the nonprofit, there are five questions that should be answered when considering online content: Are you looking at the original piece of content, account or article? Who captured it? When was it captured? Where was it captured? Why was it captured?
“We need to be self-aware that we succumb to fake news,” Bouygues said.
Bouygues, whose study found that people could become better at identifying fake news by reading an article about how to decipher legitimate versus fake news, was more optimistic people could learn to combat disinformation.
“We just need constant reminders,” Bouygues said. “It’s like learning a second language.”
