Olivia: Alright Jackson, before we dive in, what’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the name 'Notorious RBG'? Jackson: Honestly? A tiny, fierce-looking woman in a lace collar, probably judging my life choices from the great beyond. And maybe a workout routine I could never survive. Olivia: (Laughs) The pop culture icon! The superhero justice. And you're not wrong about the workout. But the real story, the one that made the icon, is so much quieter and, I think, far more powerful. Jackson: Quieter? Everything I've seen about her is about fiery dissents and changing the world. Olivia: Exactly. But the fire was lit long before the fame. And we're getting the inside story today from My Own Words by Ruth Bader Ginsburg herself. Jackson: Oh, so this is her autobiography? Olivia: Not exactly, and that's what makes it so fascinating. It's not a traditional memoir. It's a collection of her writings she compiled with her biographers, from an eighth-grade editorial on human rights to her powerful Supreme Court dissents. It’s her legacy, in her own voice. It’s a book that’s been highly praised for its intellectual depth, though some readers find it a bit dense because it’s so packed with legal thought. Jackson: An eighth-grade editorial? Wow. So the fire was lit really early on. Where does that even begin?

Olivia: It begins with her mother, Celia Bader. There's this one piece of advice Celia gave her that sounds almost like a riddle, especially for the 1940s. She told her two things, constantly. The first was "be a lady." Jackson: Okay, that sounds pretty standard for the time. Don't make a fuss, be polite. Olivia: Right. Don't let emotions like anger or envy get in your way. But the second piece of advice was "be independent." Jackson: Wait, be a lady and be independent? That sounds like a complete contradiction for that era. How do you be a polite, demure lady while also being a self-sufficient, independent person? Olivia: That's the tightrope Ruth Bader Ginsburg walked her entire life. Her mother was essentially teaching her how to fight without throwing a punch. To be so prepared, so calm, and so rational that your arguments are undeniable, but to do it with a civility that forces people to listen. It’s the core of her entire judicial philosophy. She wasn't a bomb-thrower; she was a master strategist who out-thought her opponents, politely. Jackson: That’s a powerful idea. To use the system’s own rules of conduct against it. But that must have required incredible self-discipline. Olivia: It did, and it was forged in tragedy. Her mother, Celia, was the driving force in her life, saving money for her college education. But during Ruth's high school years, Celia was battling cancer. It was a long, painful illness. And then, just days before Ruth's high school graduation, her mother died. Jackson: Oh, that's devastating. To lose your biggest champion right at the moment of your first major triumph. Olivia: She didn't even go to her own graduation. She stayed home to grieve with her father. Think about that. At seventeen, she’s facing this profound loss. But instead of derailing her, it seemed to solidify her mother's lessons into an unshakeable resolve. She knew she had to live up to the potential her mother saw in her. Jackson: It’s like her mother’s dream became a debt she had to honor. Olivia: Precisely. And you see that resolve in these small, almost stubborn moments from her childhood. There’s this one story in the book that seems minor, but I think it explains everything about her. In elementary school, Ruth was naturally left-handed. Jackson: And back then, that was a problem, right? Teachers tried to "correct" it. Olivia: Her teacher insisted she write with her right hand. It was considered the proper way. Ruth struggled terribly. Her penmanship was a mess, she was frustrated, and she ended up getting a D in penmanship—the only D she ever received in her life. Jackson: That's absurd! They failed her for how her brain was wired. Olivia: Exactly. And after that, she made a quiet vow to herself: she would never write with her right hand again. She would be who she was, and she would just get so good at it that no one could deny her. Jackson: Wow. So that stubbornness, that quiet refusal to conform to a rule that makes no sense... that's the root of her famous dissents, isn't it? It’s not just legal disagreement; it’s a fundamental rejection of arbitrary, illogical authority. Olivia: It's the exact same principle. She saw a rule that was unjust and didn't serve a rational purpose, and she simply, calmly, refused to comply. She just did it on a national scale. This was compounded by her experiences with anti-Semitism. Growing up during World War II, she saw signs that said "No Dogs or Jews Allowed." She was taunted in her neighborhood. It wasn't an abstract concept for her; it was real, personal, and it taught her that discrimination wasn't just an opinion, it was a system. Jackson: So you have this foundation of personal loss, quiet defiance, and firsthand experience with prejudice. Then what happens? Olivia: Then she meets Marty. Martin Ginsburg. And their partnership is the other pillar of her story. They met at Cornell on a blind date. He was a sophomore, she was a freshman. And he said he fell in love with her for her beauty, but also because she was the only girl he’d ever met who he’d rather talk to than his male friends. Jackson: That’s a high compliment, especially for the 1950s. Olivia: It was a partnership of true equals. He was brilliant, a top tax lawyer, but he was also, as she put it, "so secure about himself, he never regarded me as any kind of threat." He was her biggest cheerleader. He campaigned relentlessly for her to get appointed to the judiciary, and later, to the Supreme Court. In a world that expected women to support their husbands' careers, Marty flipped the script. He saw her brilliance and knew the world needed it. Jackson: So without her mother's lessons, she might not have had the drive. And without Marty's support, she might not have had the opportunity. Olivia: It’s the perfect storm of character and circumstance. The quiet girl from Brooklyn was now armed with an iron will, a first-class legal mind, and a partner who believed she could change the world. And that’s exactly what she set out to do.

Jackson: Okay, so she has this incredible backstory and a powerful partnership. But how does one person, even a brilliant lawyer, start to dismantle centuries of legal discrimination? The system is stacked against you. Olivia: And that refusal to conform led to one of the most brilliant legal strategies of the 20th century. It started, funnily enough, not with a woman, but with a man who couldn't get a tax deduction. Jackson: A tax deduction? That sounds incredibly boring. How does that spark a revolution? Olivia: Because it was a perfect, undeniable example of gender discrimination written into law. The case was Moritz v. Commissioner. It was the early 1970s. Charles Moritz was a single man caring for his elderly mother. The tax code allowed a deduction for caregiver expenses, but only for women, or for widowed or divorced men. Because he had never been married, he didn't qualify. Jackson: Let me get this straight. The law assumed only women would be caregivers? Olivia: Essentially, yes. It was based on old-fashioned stereotypes. Marty Ginsburg, being a tax lawyer, found the case and knew it was gold. He brought it to Ruth. Charles Moritz's own argument was simple and powerful: "If I were a dutiful daughter instead of a dutiful son, I would have received the deduction. This makes no sense." Jackson: It's the left-handed story all over again! A rule that's arbitrary and illogical. Olivia: Exactly! And this was the core of her strategy. She realized that to convince an all-male judiciary that gender discrimination was real, she couldn't just bring cases about women. That could be dismissed as "special pleading." Instead, she would find male plaintiffs who were being harmed by these same stereotypes. Jackson: So she's using cases where men are the victims to prove that gender discrimination hurts everyone? That's genius. It's like she's holding up a mirror to the all-male court and saying, 'This system you think benefits you? It limits you, too.' Olivia: It was a masterstroke. She was showing them that these laws weren't protecting women; they were putting everyone into rigid boxes. This strategy culminated in a series of cases before the Supreme Court. But the first major breakthrough was a case called Reed v. Reed. Jackson: What happened in that one? Olivia: It was a heartbreakingly simple and cruel case from Idaho. A teenage boy had died, and his separated parents, Sally and Cecil Reed, both wanted to be the administrator of his small estate. The Idaho law was explicit: "males must be preferred to females." Jackson: The law just flat-out said men are better? Olivia: Yes. No other reason given. Sally Reed was denied simply because she was a woman. The ACLU took the case, and they asked Ruth Bader Ginsburg to write the main brief for the Supreme Court. She argued that this preference violated the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. Jackson: And what did the Court say? Olivia: For the very first time in history, the U.S. Supreme Court struck down a state law on the grounds that it discriminated based on gender. It was a unanimous decision. It was the first crack in the dam. Jackson: That must have felt like a monumental victory. Olivia: It was. But it was just the beginning. She co-founded the ACLU's Women's Rights Project and, throughout the 1970s, she was involved in arguing six landmark gender equality cases before the Supreme Court, winning five of them. She argued a case for a female Air Force lieutenant, Sharron Frontiero, who was denied housing benefits for her husband that male officers got automatically for their wives. She argued for a widower, Stephen Wiesenfeld, who was denied Social Security survivor benefits that were only available to widows. Jackson: The same pattern. A man being hurt by a law designed around stereotypes of women. Olivia: Over and over again. She was patiently, methodically, and brilliantly teaching the Supreme Court a lesson. She wasn't asking for a revolution. She was asking for logic. She was asking the law to catch up with the real world, where men could be caregivers and women could be breadwinners. She was, as she said, a "kindergarten teacher" for the justices on the subject of gender equality. Jackson: Did people see this as a clever strategy at the time, or was it seen as controversial, even within the feminist movement? I can imagine some people saying, 'Why are you focusing on men?' Olivia: That's a great question. While her work was widely celebrated, the entire movement for gender equality faced pushback. The Equal Rights Amendment, which she championed, ultimately failed to be ratified, showing just how entrenched these biases were. Her approach was strategic and gradualist. She believed that lasting change didn't come from one sweeping decision, but from building a solid foundation of precedent, one case at a time. It was less about fiery protests and more about dismantling the legal architecture of sexism brick by brick. Some critics of her broader career have pointed to this measured, meritocratic approach as having limits, especially concerning issues of race, but in the context of the 1970s, it was undeniably effective. Jackson: It’s like she was playing chess while everyone else was playing checkers. She wasn't just trying to win the game in front of her; she was trying to change the rules of the board for everyone who came after. Olivia: And she did. The world we live in today, where laws can't overtly treat men and women differently, is a world that Ruth Bader Ginsburg helped build, one carefully chosen case at a time.

Olivia: It all connects back, doesn't it? The little girl who refused to write with her right hand becomes the lawyer who refuses to accept a legal system that treats people differently based on their gender. She didn't use fiery rhetoric; she used logic, patience, and the system's own rules to dismantle it. Jackson: The two lessons from her mother: "be a lady" and "be independent." She was a lady in her conduct—calm, civil, respectful. But she was fiercely independent in her thinking, refusing to accept an unjust status quo. Olivia: And that's the profound insight from My Own Words. It shows that you don't have to be the loudest person in the room to be the most powerful. Her power came from her preparation, her clarity, and her unwavering belief in the simple, radical idea that the law should serve everyone equally. Jackson: It makes you think about the 'small' injustices we accept every day. The casual stereotypes, the unwritten rules, the things that just 'are the way they are.' What are the modern-day equivalents of being told to use your other hand? Olivia: That is the perfect question. Her life was a testament to the idea that you should never stop questioning those things. Chief Justice Hughes once said that a dissent is "an appeal to the intelligence of a future day." RBG's entire life was an appeal to a more intelligent, more just future. Jackson: And she invites us to be part of that appeal. It's not just for Supreme Court justices. Olivia: Not at all. And that's a powerful question to leave with our listeners. What's a rule in your life, at work, or in your community that just doesn't make sense? We'd love to hear your thoughts. Find us on our socials and share. Let's continue the conversation. Jackson: A conversation started by a quiet girl from Brooklyn who just wanted the world to be a little more logical. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.