1. The Smile That Followed Her
Every working woman knows what it feels like when someone decides her face is not pleasing enough, when a boss, a client, or a stranger tells her to brighten up, to be warmer, to smile. But almost no one has heard it from the President of the United States, in front of television cameras, while trying to ask a question. Kaitlan Collins, CNN’s White House correspondent and the host of The Source, did. When Donald Trump told her to smile more, the moment became a strange, surreal flashpoint. Collins was not hurt exactly, but she was struck by how familiar the feeling was, how universal. “No woman likes to be told that,” she said. Maybe the setting was extraordinary—six cameras, the Oval Office, the weight of the presidency—but the sensation was ordinary, the same small, grinding indignity that generations of women have swallowed at work. She does not want to be distracted by it. She does not want to be weighed down by it. “We’re just doing our jobs every day,” she said. “When we get the opportunity to question the president, we will take those opportunities.” That determination is not just hers. Collins is part of a prominent group of female journalists at CNN—Dana Bash, Kasie Hunt, Laura Coates, Pamela Brown, and Erin Burnett—who have all found themselves in the public eye during a particularly punishing political moment. They have been attacked by Trump, dismissed, blocked, and, in some cases, physically locked out of Air Force One. The administration has tried to limit their access. The media landscape is shifting beneath them, with mergers and uncertainty. Yet they keep showing up. They keep asking questions. They are bracing for the “Super Bowl” of political reporting—election night—and they know the whole world will be watching. But before that, they have to survive the daily grind of being women in this arena.
2. Thick Skin and Unshakable Purposes
Dana Bash has been at CNN for thirty years, long enough to have seen politics cycle through eras of relative calm and absolute chaos. In this era, being in the public crosshairs is simply part of the job. She hosts Inside Politics and State of the Union, and she does not flinch when insults come her way. Her responsibilities are “the same,” she says, “regardless if we’re getting insults hurled at us or not.” If anything, the criticism makes her more determined. Erin Burnett, the anchor of Erin Burnett OutFront, takes a similar approach. She prefers not to respond to attacks on her reputation, knowing that engaging can become its own exhausting loop. “This may not always be the right move,” she admitted, “but we focus on doing our jobs as best we can.” But the women are not made of stone. They feel the weight of the hostility, even if they choose not to let it stop them. Kasie Hunt, host of The Arena, is candid about the toll. “I’ve always viewed my job pretty optimistically,” she said. “My optimism has been challenged in the Trump decade. I’m not going to sugarcoat that. It has definitely gotten more difficult.” Yet she insists that difficulty does not diminish the importance of the work. The hardest part, she said, is making an argument to people that journalism still can and should matter, especially in a moment when many have tuned out or become cynical. Laura Coates, anchor of Laura Coates Live and CNN’s chief legal analyst, understands that hostility from viewers, politicians, and online strangers can be misdirected. “A lot of the time, people’s anger and their hostility is misdirected,” she said. “But it doesn’t mean that I am immune to criticism, and that some things don’t hurt.” As a mother and a human being, she is sensitive to the “peanut gallery” that rejoices in people’s misery. Yet she also knows that sensitivity and strength can coexist. These women have learned to hold both: the awareness that words wound, and the discipline to keep going anyway.
3. The Loneliness and Community of Public Scrutiny
There is a strange intimacy to being a famous reporter in the age of Donald Trump. He singles out individual journalists by name, making them symbols for their networks, turning their faces into ammunition for his supporters. Kaitlan Collins has been on the receiving end, along with fellow reporters like Kristen Welker. Trump seems to have an instinct for finding the most effective pressure point: a woman’s appearance, a woman’s tone, a woman’s expression. Collins said that his “smile more” comment resonated not because it was exceptional, but because so many women have heard it in smaller, quieter, less absurd settings. “Everyone thinks they know what a reporter’s life looks like,” she observed. “But a lot of people who don’t deal with it on a daily basis actually don’t know.” What people see is a five-minute cable hit or a sharp question at a press conference. They do not see the preparation, the research, the exhaustion, the stomach-churning uncertainty before going live, or the pile of online notifications afterward. They do not see the way public attacks can seep into private moments, or how a single comment can echo in a woman’s mind long after the cameras stop rolling. The women of CNN are not alone in this, though. They have one another. They have group chats, late-night texts, coffee breaks, and the unspoken solidarity of people who know exactly what it feels like to be told you are not smiling enough, not tough enough, not fair enough, not real enough. They talk to each other. They lean on each other. They know that the story matters more than their bruised feelings, but they also know it is okay to admit when the bruises hurt.
4. Navigating Misinformation and Deepfakes
As election night approaches, the stakes feel higher than ever. Pamela Brown, chief co-anchor of The Situation Room with Wolf Blitzer and chief investigative correspondent, knows that election night is not just about numbers. It is a complex dance of day-of counts, mail-in ballots, and rival political camps spinning narratives about what is happening in real time. She calls it “the rumor desk.” Social media has created an “ecosystem and outrage machine” that grows louder by the day. She is bracing for the inevitable “this is fraudulent, the election is stolen” narratives, no matter how the races shake out. But Brown also believes CNN has an advantage. “We actually have the resources to filter through misinformation and AI, and detect what’s real and what’s not in a way that a lot of people can’t,” she said. That is a critical responsibility, especially at a moment when the tools of deception are more sophisticated than ever. Artificial intelligence has moved from theory to reality, and it is personal. Kaitlan Collins has seen deepfakes of herself online—videos that purport to show her saying things she never said. She finds them oddly easy to spot, because she knows her own voice, her own mannerisms, her own face. But for viewers, it is not always so obvious. “It’s so obviously not real to me, but sometimes people see it and think it’s real,” she said. That is deeply frightening for someone whose entire career depends on trust. “You’re trying to be this trusted individual with credibility with your audience,” she explained, “and then that’s being misused by either nefarious people or AI.” The women are now covering a story in which their own images can be weaponized. They are not just reporting on misinformation; they are living in it.
5. Coffee, Tea, and the Long Night Ahead
Election night is a marathon, and these journalists prepare accordingly. CNN’s Election Night in America special coverage begins at 4 p.m. ET, but the work starts long before that. Polls close, numbers trickle in, maps light up, and the hours stretch on. It is a test of physical endurance as much as intellectual skill. Kaitlan Collins jokes that she drinks “like 16 cups of coffee a day anyway,” so election night will just be more of the same. Dana Bash operates differently. “I’m not a coffee drinker. I’m a tea drinker. So I have to find other ways for the jolt of caffeine,” she says. She knows the importance of pacing. “It’s a marathon, not a sprint. You have to pace yourself. Never mind the hydration of it all. You gotta eat, but not too much candy because you don’t want a sugar spike.” The practical details matter—the food, the caffeine, the rhythm of the day—but what sustains them is not just energy drinks. It is each other. Bash describes the camaraderie as the best part of the job. “What I love about it is the camaraderie and the team element of it,” she says. “It’s what I would be doing if I were sitting home on my couch. I would be texting with my friends about what’s going on in the election. I get to be able to do it in real life in the studio and to be able to participate in informing people. It’s pretty cool.” There is something almost joyful in that image: a group of journalists, exhausted but wired, sharing the experience of history unfolding, knowing they are doing something that matters.
6. Leaning Into the Work, Together
The women of CNN know that they will not emerge untouched from this election season. They will be criticized. They will be second-guessed. They may be attacked in ways that are personal and ugly. But they are determined to keep going. Laura Coates says that when she gets tired and overwhelmed, she leans on her “sisters in journalism” and her family and her group chats. “We all do,” she says. “We lean on our families. We lean on the group chats … But more importantly, we just lean into the work.” That is the quiet strength that runs through all of them. They do not see themselves as heroes. They are not performatively brave. They are professionals who believe in the human value of asking questions, even when the questions are difficult, even when the people in power do not want to answer them. Kaitlan Collins captures it best when she looks toward election night: “Whatever happens on election night, I feel confident that we are in a position to be able to cover it and make it make sense for people who are watching it, even if we’re trying to make it make sense to ourselves in real time. We’re kind of all going on this journey together, you know?” Yes, they are. They are women who have been told to smile, told to be quiet, told that they do not belong, told that their work is biased, told that they are not fair, told that they are not tough enough or soft enough. And they are still there, microphones in hand, asking the next question. They may not always know what they will find, but they know why they are there. They are there for the people watching at home, trying to understand their country. They are there for the record. They are there because someone has to be, and they are not going to back down. That is the story of these women: not that they are fearless, but that they are afraid and do it anyway. Not that they are unaffected, but that they feel everything and keep going. And perhaps one day, they will be told to smile less, or smile more, or not smile at all—but they will do it on their own terms.