Bari Weiss has long been blessed with two superpowers, those close to her say: She knows how to make useful enemies, and she knows how to make useful friends.
As the founder, public face and heat-seeking curator of The Free Press, a new media company with ambitions to overtake the old media, Ms. Weiss, 40, has identified a mélange of reliable foils: the illiberal left; diversity, equity and inclusion programs; opponents of Israel; The New York Times, where Ms. Weiss worked until 2020.
For her sins against groupthink, Ms. Weiss has suggested, she faced eviction from the media “cool kids’ table,” without regret.
“I don’t need to be with the beautiful people,” she said at a conference in San Diego recently, hosted by an asset management executive who describes himself as her devoted groupie. “I’m OK being with the nerds.”
In fact, luminaries from both camps appear to enjoy her company.
With her news and opinion site (characteristic headlines: “Camping Out at Columbia’s Communist Coachella,” “The Secret Service Failed. What’s That Have to Do With DEI?”), a popular podcast (“Honestly with Bari Weiss”) and a lucrative turn on the speechmaking circuit, Ms. Weiss has amassed high status in what might be considered the no-tribes tribe of American power.
She has created, or at least created space at, a cool kids’ table all her own, positioning herself as a teller of dangerous truths while becoming a kind of brand ambassador for the views and passions of her audience, which often seem to track neatly with her own: that elite universities have lost the plot; that legacy outlets have lost their minds; that Ms. Weiss knows the way forward.
She has shared Shabbat dinner with David Mamet, the culture-warring playwright who moonlights as a Free Press cartoonist, and dazzled executives at the Sun Valley Conference, walking sheepishly past cordoned-off journalists she met in a previous life.
She has asked “boobs or butts?” of Kim Kardashian in a buddy-buddy interview and compelled Jerry Seinfeld to schlep to watch someone else talk into a microphone — and, for his choice, face chants of “genocide supporter!” as he left Ms. Weiss’s speech about “The State of World Jewry” in Manhattan.
She has headlined a public discussion of antisemitism in a cozy environment (“Sheryl Sandberg, welcome to my living room,” one June podcast began) and a private one last year for Hollywood dignitaries like Disney’s Robert Iger at the Bel Air home of Dan Loeb, the hedge fund titan.
And she held court last summer at the kingly Hamptons estate of Bobby Kotick, the former chief executive of Activision Blizzard, where a smattering of billionaires and moguls listened to Ms. Weiss talk up Vivek Ramaswamy, the former Republican presidential candidate, and question President Biden’s mental capacity, according to people familiar with her visit.
“She doesn’t just speak to the 1 percent,” said Frank Luntz, the veteran pollster and strategist, who moderated an ovation-heavy session with Ms. Weiss at the Milken Institute Global Conference in 2021. “She speaks to the one-hundredth of 1 percent. And they’ll listen.”
Some also invest. Backers of Ms. Weiss’s company have included the venture capitalists Marc Andreessen and David Sacks, who both recently endorsed Donald J. Trump; Howard Schultz, the former Starbucks chief executive; Allen & Company, the investment firm that hosts the Sun Valley Conference; and a foundation principally funded by Mr. Kotick.
With a staff exceeding three dozen and offices on both coasts, The Free Press has more than 750,000 subscribers on Substack, Ms. Weiss announced in July. A subset of subscribers — more than 100,000, according to The Free Press — pay $8 a month or $80 a year for full access to the site’s offerings.
The Free Press has also moved into live events, hosting big-city debates about the sexual revolution, immigration and crime, before audiences fluent in the site’s editorial sensibility.
“I hear everything is bigger in Texas,” Ms. Weiss told a crowd gathered inside a Dallas theater in April, “but I assure you that the tent cities are indeed bigger in L.A.”
While subjects of The Free Press’s work have sometimes complained about being misrepresented or caricatured, dozens of news outlets, including The Times, have dedicated their own resources to chasing the site’s most attention-soaking coverage.
This has included a first-person essay of a senior NPR editor who accused the organization of incorrigible liberal bias, and a whistle-blower account about transgender health care at a St. Louis children’s hospital, where a former case manager claimed that doctors had hastily prescribed hormones to adolescents.
Pledging to fuse throwback journalistic principles of agenda-free fact-finding with a nonconformity better suited to independent media, Ms. Weiss conjures a world where everyone seems terrified of everything — defying the online mob, stating the obvious, being canceled — with Bari Weiss as the blazing exception.
“She’s just unafraid, and I think that confidence scares a lot of people,” said Jeff Zucker, the former CNN president and avowed Free Press supporter, saluting Ms. Weiss’s antenna for “how a huge swath of this country feels.”
“It is a salon for the privileged laments of the powerful,” said Wajahat Ali, a writer and commentator who has encountered Ms. Weiss socially and debated her on television, “masquerading as the grievances of the oppressed.”
In dozens of interviews with friends, associates and colleagues, a consensus emerged among Ms. Weiss’s many fans and non-fans: She is doing exactly what she meant to, unbothered by — and often powered by — a series of nominal contradictions.
She is a reformed print editor who insists she did not get into this industry for money or stature but took care to acquire both anyway, musing openly in recent years about how much The Free Press might be worth someday, according to people who have heard her do so.
She speaks persuasively about the need for a more civil discourse while sometimes evincing a casual disdain for subjects of her site’s reporting, with slashing generalizations about “hip, young people with pronouns in their bios” and other ostensible ideological foes. (The Free Press has at times declined to use the preferred pronouns of people it has written about.)
And she is, as she likes to point out, an elite bicoastal lesbian journalist distrusted as a liberal by movement conservatives and as a right-wing zealot by many liberals, invited last November to address the Federalist Society, where she called out the elephants in the Washington ballroom.
“I know that there are some people in this room who don’t believe that my marriage should have been legal,” she said. “And that’s OK. Because we’re all Americans who want lower taxes.” (The line killed.)
In no small part because of her personal background, Ms. Weiss can function as something like a gateway drug for the lapsed or wobbly Democrat. She is schooled in the tone and aesthetics of left-coded institutions and eager to highlight their failings.
Christopher Rufo, the conservative activist behind campaigns opposing D.E.I. and critical race theory, called The Free Press “the most successful media venture in the United States if you’re measuring it on elite influence” and a “beautiful off-ramp” for the kinds of former center-leftists that he envisions pulling all the way to the right.
“My own personal campaign is to radicalize American elites and to create a kind of defector class,” Mr. Rufo, who has written for the site, said in an interview. “Among those kind of likely converts, I think you’d find a lot of people who have read The Free Press.”
A Buzzy Rise
Profiles of Ms. Weiss — and there have been an outsize number in this navel-gazing industry — tend to tick through some common beats and details: that she attended Columbia University, where she dated the future “Saturday Night Live” star Kate McKinnon; that she invariably has some media-world connection to the author of the piece (because she seems to have a media-world connection to almost everyone); that she really is charming in person.
She really is charming in person.
We met only once, to my memory, at a comedy show years ago in the basement of a Manhattan restaurant, which she attended with her now-wife, Nellie Bowles, a former Times reporter whom I knew slightly better. (I later worked with Ms. Bowles, who now helps lead The Free Press, on a Times article about Bernie Sanders’s 2020 presidential campaign.)
In interviews, others’ initial impressions of Ms. Weiss seemed to match my own: She is unusually charismatic, effectively overfamiliar, performatively attuned to people’s vanities (“You are so beautiful,” she has told more than one relative stranger) or at least their amenability to pet names.
“She is the only person other than my mother who calls me Howie,” said Howard Wolfson, a former New York City deputy mayor under Michael R. Bloomberg and an admirer of Ms. Weiss’s. “And my mother has been dead for more than a decade.”
Raised in Pittsburgh, Ms. Weiss describes her upbringing in the homespun rhythms of a stump speech.
She grew up “literally in Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood,” she has said, as the eldest of four girls buoyed by the family carpet business. She became a bat mitzvah in the city’s Squirrel Hill neighborhood. She revered her parents’ “politically mixed marriage,” she has recalled, learning that “fighting about ideas didn’t mean that you didn’t love someone.”
At Columbia, Ms. Weiss patrolled the intersection of mid-2000s campus activism and journalism, speaking often about the strain she said she endured as a proud Jew on the school’s grounds.
Saying she was antagonized as an outspoken Zionist — particularly in the classroom of Joseph Massad, whom some students accused of making antisemitic remarks — she co-founded an organization, Columbians for Academic Freedom, on the premise that students should not be punished for expressing views that differed from those of their professors. (Dr. Massad, whose anti-Israel positions and writings returned to the fore amid recent protests at Columbia, did not respond to messages seeking comment.)
Some fellow students accused Ms. Weiss of an opportunistic campaign to silence opponents under the guise of academic freedom. Ms. Weiss, explaining herself then in media interviews, did not seem to mind her positioning in this debate. “I will continue to stand up,” she vowed in 2005, “even if people call me a McCarthyite.”
She has since framed the episode as a “formative” study in taking on “bullies.” No one disputes the “formative” part.
“She’s been, from what I can tell, the same person all the way,” said Samuel Moyn, a professor of law and history at Yale University, who taught Ms. Weiss at Columbia. “She’s an extremely gifted ideological operative.”
Former colleagues also found her to be a talented editor, with an instinct for stories that would pop. (To this day, Ms. Weiss is known to request more “zhuzh” in articles deemed insufficiently punchy.)
Post-college stops included Tablet and The Wall Street Journal, which in 2013 published a viral essay from Ms. Weiss’s then-teenage sister Suzy about college applications.
“Had I known two years ago what I know now, I would have gladly worn a headdress to school,” Suzy Weiss wrote. “Show me to any closet, and I would’ve happily come out of it.”
The younger Ms. Weiss, who now writes for The Free Press, later told NBC’s “Today” that the piece came about after her complaints to her sister about college rejections were met with laughter and a directive: “Go write this down.”
After the 2016 election, Ms. Weiss has said, she sobbed at her desk in horror over Mr. Trump’s victory and realized that The Journal was no longer for her. (At a TED Talk this year, Ms. Weiss, who calls herself a “radical centrist,” said she had voted for Mitt Romney, Hillary Clinton and Mr. Biden in the last three presidential elections.)
She joined The Times’s Opinion section in 2017 as what she has called “an ideological diversity hire,” transitioning (at least in her telling) from being one of the most liberal voices at her former employer to one of the most conservative at her new one.
Quickly, Ms. Weiss assumed an unusually large profile for a mid-hierarchy editor and occasional writer. She published zhuzh-y pieces on the excesses of the #MeToo movement and “renegades of the intellectual dark web” like Joe Rogan and Jordan Peterson.
She caught the eye of Bill Maher, who began inviting her on his HBO show, establishing Ms. Weiss as a counter-generational star among a certain class of millennial-skeptical boomer. (“Your generation — a little crazy,” Mr. Maher said in her debut, adding an expletive. She did not disagree.)
After the 2018 massacre at Tree of Life synagogue, the site of Ms. Weiss’s bat mitzvah, she also emerged as a prominent voice against antisemitism. “I want to tell you what it is like,” she wrote poignantly in The Times days later, “when your neighborhood becomes the scene of a mass murder.”
Within a year, Ms. Weiss had written a book (“How to Fight Anti-Semitism”) and ranked seventh on The Jerusalem Post’s list of the world’s most influential Jews, one spot ahead of President Volodymyr Zelensky of Ukraine.
Her book party, co-hosted by the former HBO chief executive Richard Plepler, doubled as a confirmation of her ascendant industry status. “Aunt Betty, meet Shari Redstone, queen of all media!” Ms. Weiss said that night, per a New York magazine write-up.
Friends from The Times said Ms. Weiss’s more checkered reputation internally owed to several factors, including occasional professional jealousy. In 2019, her representative quoted a speaking fee of $25,000 to a major university, according to emails from the time. (More recently, the requested rate has pushed six figures, according to four people with knowledge of it.)
Ms. Weiss has said, accurately, that messages from Times employees in group Slack channels often flamed her in blistering terms.
But former colleagues have attributed some of the criticism, within The Times and externally, to instances of simple sloppiness or reductive reasoning, cutting against the explanation that Ms. Weiss prefers: that wide swaths of the company were too blindingly progressive to abide her politics.
Among other flare-ups, a 2018 column about left-wing intolerance built part of its case around a Twitter account that Ms. Weiss did not appear to realize was a fake.
“At times it seems that Weiss’s main strategy is to make an argument that’s bad enough to attract criticism, and then to cherry-pick the worst of that criticism into the foundation for another bad argument,” The New Yorker’s Jia Tolentino wrote in her 2019 book, “Trick Mirror.” “Her worldview requires the specter of a vast, angry, inferior mob.”
And that mob, friends say, could have a distorting effect on Ms. Weiss, a dynamic that she sometimes seemed to recognize.
In her piece on the “intellectual dark web,” Ms. Weiss dwelled presciently on the notion of “audience capture,” suggesting that stories about “left-wing-outrage culture” were so popular that media figures might not be able to resist overplaying them.
“Having been attacked by the left, I know I run the risk of focusing inordinately on its excesses,” she added, “and providing succor to some people whom I deeply oppose.”
A Media Earthquake
Ms. Weiss’s Times career died as it lived: loudly.
In July 2020, she resigned in a nearly 1,500-word open letter to A.G. Sulzberger, The Times’s publisher, citing “bullying by colleagues” and an “illiberal environment.”
Weeks earlier — amid the convulsive fallout from a Times opinion piece by Senator Tom Cotton, which called for a military response to wide-scale protests against police violence after the murder of George Floyd — Ms. Weiss had tweeted about a “civil war” at the paper between “the (mostly young) wokes” and “the (mostly 40+) liberals.” Many colleagues called this a maddening oversimplification.
The resignation was an earthquake in insular media circles. “My Jerry Maguire moment,” she has said. (Ms. Weiss declined to be interviewed for this article, saying in an email that it was “really hard for me to imagine getting a fair shake in The Times given the history and the relationship.”)
Overnight, Ms. Weiss, already a curiosity on the right, became an unqualified sensation, earning praise from Senator Ted Cruz, Ben Shapiro and Donald Trump Jr.
Her next move was uncertain. In prior years, friends said, Ms. Weiss had hoped for a regular chair on a show like “The View,” which she has guest hosted.
But this time, she began privately articulating a grander vision for herself, people who spoke to her said: Institutions of classical liberalism — across media, publishing, academia — were broken, she explained. It was a period of transformation in American cultural life, and she wanted to help lead it.
For starters, she credits Ms. Bowles, who left The Times in 2021, with nudging her toward her own Substack newsletter, previously called Common Sense, and setting up the site for her. The podcast series followed, buttressed by connections new and old.
“I did her podcast because her dad and I were friends growing up,” Mark Cuban, another child of Pittsburgh, said of his 2021 appearance in an email, “and I respect her efforts as an entrepreneur.”
Ms. Weiss and Ms. Bowles resettled in Los Angeles, telling associates it was a respite from the pitilessness of New York.
She assembled a small staff and promised to cover stories that others ignored while affording grace to those with whom she clashed.
At an early team retreat, where Ms. Weiss asked the group to share something that informed their values, she chose a clip from “Transparent,” the 2010s television series with a trans protagonist, which she said she found moving despite what she assumed were political differences with the show’s creator.
“Bari said that she’d chosen it because she never wanted to forget the humanity of those with whom she vehemently disagrees,” said an attendee, Megan Phelps-Roper, a former member of the Westboro Baptist Church (and now fierce opponent of its bigoted teachings) who worked with Ms. Weiss.
Within the wider Los Angeles social scene, Ms. Weiss positioned herself as a woman of letters in a city where few claim the title, the doyenne of an anti-establishment establishment of thinkers and friends.
“Everyone,” Mr. Zucker said, “wants to go to the salon dinner with Bari.”
By 2021, Ms. Weiss had hurtled so thoroughly into the city’s zeitgeist that she was invoked on “Curb Your Enthusiasm.”
“Come for Shabbos dinner one of these weekends,” a Hulu executive tells Larry David’s character after a meeting. “We had Bari Weiss last Friday night. She’s fantastic.” Larry slams the door without answering.
This was art imitating life: The actor playing the executive, Elon Gold, has said he mentioned Ms. Weiss in a fit of ad-libbing because they had indeed shared a Shabbat dinner. (After asking how they met, according to Mr. Gold, Mr. David answered his own question, accurately enough: “Let me guess, it was an event where they said, ‘We must save Israel.’”)
More recently, life has imitated art: The Free Press has a first-look agreement with Netflix.
In the interim, the site’s earliest journalistic breakthroughs were elevated by uncommon access.
A podcast series, “The Witch Trials of J.K. Rowling,” explored the modern culture wars (including trans issues, a source of high conflict between Ms. Rowling and many fans of the Harry Potter books) through a series of exclusive conversations between the author and Ms. Phelps-Roper, among other reporting. And a series labeled “The Twitter Files” was undertaken by Ms. Weiss at the invitation of Elon Musk after he purchased the platform.
As Ms. Weiss has described it, she received a text message from Mr. Musk one night in 2022 asking how soon she could get to the company’s San Francisco headquarters. Within hours, she was investigating the previous Twitter regime’s inner workings, along with other writers outside the mainstream media.
Ms. Weiss suggested that Mr. Musk’s version of transparency augured a new media order.
“The fact that Elon Musk decided to come to a bunch of people essentially with newsletters rather than The Washington Post and The New York Times tells you a lot about where real trust in the media these days actually lies,” she said in a 2022 interview with Russell Brand, the conspiracy-theory-minded British comedian and podcaster.
It betrayed much more, of course, about where Mr. Musk laid his trust. Some journalists dismissed the series as a selective balm for the political right, which long accused Mr. Musk’s predecessors of bias.
Still, Ms. Weiss, always acutely aware of how she is perceived on the internet, said she was wary of giving readers too much of what they wanted.
Dinged for her coziness with Mr. Musk after “The Twitter Files,” Ms. Weiss made a point to criticize him a short time later for suspending some journalists from the platform.
Internally, Ms. Phelps-Roper said, Ms. Weiss still spoke often of “audience capture,” sometimes asking podcast interviewees off-air about how best to avoid it.
“Heterodox” became a favored word among Free Press staff. The goal, Ms. Weiss suggested, was high-impact, high-quality unpredictability.
“Am I going to be the anti-woke cancel culture girl and feed my audience that kind of political heroin every other day?” she said in late 2022. “I don’t want to be that.”
Expansion and Ambition
There is a certain formula to the opening lines of The Free Press’s signature work:
“I am a 42-year-old St. Louis native, a queer woman, and politically to the left of Bernie Sanders … ” But medical interventions for trans children have gotten out of control, and I am blowing the whistle.
“Eight years ago, I was in my mid-20s, and like many of my colleagues at NowThis News, I was completely aligned with the company’s left-wing content … ” But environmental causes are more complicated than we implied, and I am blowing the whistle.
“I’m Sarah Lawrence-educated, was raised by a lesbian peace activist mother, I drive a Subaru, and Spotify says my listening habits are most similar to people in Berkeley … ” But NPR is governed by a narrow progressive ideology, and I am blowing the whistle. (The author of that piece, Uri Berliner, has since joined The Free Press.)
To the site’s most passionate followers, such entries are evidence that The Free Press is the rare outlet willing to speak honestly about what is happening in this country.
“I’m a big fan of The Free Press,” said Mr. Maher, perhaps the most prolific “I’m a liberal but … ” voice in modern media, “and the brand of common sense, nonpartisan reporting that they are championing and delivering on.”
James Kirchick, an author and friend of Ms. Weiss’s, invoked magazine royalty like Tina Brown and Graydon Carter to describe her editorial radar, with a dash of The New York Post and a bygone New Republic.
“There’s the populism,” Mr. Kirchick said, “but also the thing that’s going to cause a huge fuss.”
At minimum, Ms. Weiss has made herself the most trusted name in media for a particular kind of media distruster. Her contingent of fans includes members of the so-called PayPal Mafia, whose adherents often think little of the mainstream press.
Among some who once worked for The Free Press, a private joke took hold: Whenever Ms. Weiss described what “the smartest people I know” thought about an issue, this was essentially shorthand for David Sacks, the venture capitalist. (Ms. Weiss has had both Mr. Sacks and Peter Thiel, PayPal’s former chief executive, on her podcast.)
The site’s reporting about left-wing disorder has been a feeder to Fox News coverage. But The Free Press appears to see itself as more of an intellectual competitor to The Atlantic, whose majority owner, Emerson Collective, previously weighed an investment in the site, according to a person familiar with the matter.
Some Free Press contributions would be the envy of almost any outlet: an essay from David Sedaris, a posthumous collection of letters from the Russian opposition leader Aleksei Navalny.
After the attempted assassination of Mr. Trump, the company’s all-hands response showcased the muscles it has built since its modest beginnings: Within 48 hours, Ms. Weiss’s team had published a first-person account from the rally; a meditation on past near-miss attacks against presidents; an essay mapping the parallels between 2024 and 1968; a piece imploring Americans to “turn down the temperature”; and a column by the historian Niall Ferguson, the site’s splashiest recent hire.
Since Oct. 7, which prompted a surge of interest for The Free Press, Ms. Weiss has also reported from the Middle East, visiting a kibbutz that had been attacked and airing interviews with Palestinians in Ramallah.
Occasionally, some pieces seem to directly challenge Ms. Weiss’s worldview, including one by Andrew Sullivan in January titled, “How Many Children Is Israel Willing to Kill?”
Many other features might be categorized principally as entertainment, like a matchmaking service for readers (“email [email protected]”) and a popular weekly sendup of headlines from Ms. Bowles.
Yet even among some who admire The Free Press’s ambition, the consistency of its tilt can grate, with pieces and interviews often appraising issues that Ms. Weiss seems to view as settled: Can the medical establishment be trusted? (Not after its collective Covid performance, Ms. Weiss suggests.) Did Democrats and the news media perpetrate a conspiracy to conceal Mr. Biden’s health? (“They Knew,” read the headline of Ms. Weiss’s post-debate column.)
“They’re entitled to have a political slant,” said Cathy Young, a writer who has both praised and criticized The Free Press. “It’s just that Bari presents it as a site that is dedicated to the pursuit of truth and objectivity and so on.”
That Free Press story arcs are often predictable does not make them untrue, of course, even if in some cases (including at NPR), their subjects have objected strenuously to key details and conclusions.
But former Free Press employees have expressed discomfort with the sweeping declarations that accompany some articles.
“As The Free Press was finding its voice, I started to realize that it wasn’t the best fit for mine,” said Ms. Phelps-Roper, the former Westboro member who hosted the podcast about Ms. Rowling and left The Free Press shortly thereafter, adding that she was grateful for the editorial latitude that Ms. Weiss allowed on that series. “I tend to be quite cautious around taking strong stances and speaking with moral certainty, for reasons I hope are obvious given my history. I also prefer for there to be a clear distinction between news and opinion pieces.”
Some former staff members described an editorial process that could feel haphazard. And Ms. Weiss is, by her own account, perpetually overbooked.
Her rash of commitments and outside projects includes a board seat at the University of Austin, a not-yet-accredited college that plans to welcome students this fall. (Spokespeople and incoming professors for the school, whose stated aim is to transcend the hive mind of traditional universities, either ignored messages or declined to comment.)
After long operating as a consciously unruly start-up — “a non-hierarchical lesbian commune,” Ms. Weiss has joked — The Free Press seems to be undergoing at least a modest shift in workplace culture.
Among other changes, Ms. Weiss has added a chief operating officer, Lars Kahl, with prior experience at Politico and Axel Springer, and a business development hire, Ellie Stein, from the investment firm TCG.
A more symbolic upheaval is expected soon: Ms. Weiss and Ms. Bowles are planning to move back to New York as The Free Press’s footprint expands — returning conquerors, friends say (only slightly in jest).
Supporters say The Free Press’s greatest challenge now is building an institution without becoming too much of one.
“Can it continue to be truly alternative as it becomes big on its own scale?” said Nick Gillespie, an editor at large at Reason, the libertarian magazine, who has written for The Free Press. “It’s kind of the Bob Dylan problem, right? Every couple of years, you have to remind your audience to expect what’s true to you, not what they want.”
Ms. Weiss has not sounded concerned.
“Institutions are just people,” she has said, and Ms. Weiss seems to know precisely who she intends to be in the public consciousness.
At The Free Press’s debate in Dallas in April, Ms. Weiss described her place in her family’s American immigrant story.
Her relatives from Hungary and Poland were boxers and bootleggers and loan sharks, she said warmly, working every angle they could.
“Now their great-granddaughter is a coastal elite lesbian journalist who’s accused by the left of being a flag-waving jingoist and on the right of having dual loyalty,” she said. “I have to think, at some point, this is what my ancestors came to this country for.”
Moments later, Ms. Weiss called to the stage the biggest name on the evening’s program, which had been billed as a too-rare “civil discussion” of whether the nation should shut its borders.
“Arguing in the affirmative,” she said, “is none other than Ann Coulter.”
The post Bari Weiss Knows Exactly What She’s Doing appeared first on New York Times.
