President Donald Trump’s relationship with the press has never been smooth, but a recent incident aboard Air Force One has thrown the issue of misogyny and verbal abuse against female reporters into the national spotlight. On November 14, 2025, during a mid-flight gaggle, Trump lashed out at Bloomberg White House correspondent Catherine Lucey, snapping, “Quiet! Quiet, piggy,” as she attempted to ask a follow-up question about the Jeffrey Epstein files. The exchange, initially omitted from the official press pool report, quickly went viral, sparking outrage and reigniting debate over Trump’s treatment of women in the media.
According to HuffPost, the reaction from the White House press corps was “muted,” with many reporters appearing to hold back criticism, perhaps wary of jeopardizing their access to the president. Still, the incident could not be swept under the rug. The video circulated widely on social media, drawing condemnation from journalists, advocacy groups, and members of the public. Yet, the White House, rather than apologizing or walking back the president’s words, doubled down. In a statement released November 19, an official said, “This reporter behaved in an inappropriate and unprofessional way toward her colleagues on the plane. If you’re going to give it, you have to be able to take.”
Bloomberg News, for its part, stood by its reporter, issuing a statement that read, “Our White House journalists perform a vital public service, asking questions without fear or favor. We remain focused on reporting issues of public interest fairly and accurately.” The message was clear: while the administration might try to intimidate or belittle reporters, the press would not be deterred from its mission.
The “Quiet, piggy” remark was not a one-off for Trump. As The Daily Beast pointed out, he has a history of using “pig” insults to demean women. In 2017, New York Times columnist Gail Collins recalled Trump telling her she had “the face of a pig.” In 2016, former Miss Universe Alicia Machado revealed that Trump called her “Miss Piggy” during his ownership of the pageant. Rosie O’Donnell has also been a frequent target, with Trump repeatedly referring to her as a “pig.” These comments are part of a broader pattern of reducing women to their appearance and using body-based insults as a weapon to silence or humiliate.
White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt, tasked with defending the president, responded to the outcry by framing Trump’s behavior as a virtue. She claimed that his “frank and honest” approach was preferable to the evasiveness of other politicians. But critics see this as a dangerous sleight of hand. As William Spivey wrote in a Medium piece republished after the incident, “Honesty is not the same as cruelty. Transparency does not require misogyny.” By conflating Trump’s abuse with candor, Leavitt, in the eyes of many, attempted to launder sexism into statesmanship.
Trump’s dismissive interruptions and insults toward female reporters are not new. PBS’s Yamiche Alcindor, for instance, was told her question was “threatening” and was accused of being “nasty” during a 2020 COVID-19 briefing. In 2025, when ABC’s Mary Bruce pressed Trump on Saudi Arabia, he dismissed her as “a terrible person.” These episodes are part of a strategy, according to critics, to delegitimize women’s voices in public discourse by framing their questions as hostile or their presence as unwelcome.
Leavitt’s defense of the “piggy” insult, then, is not merely about one exchange. It is about normalizing a pattern of behavior that has been present throughout Trump’s political career. The most infamous example perhaps came during the 2015 Republican debate, when Fox News anchor Megyn Kelly challenged Trump on his history of derogatory comments about women. Trump later said, “There was blood coming out of her eyes, blood coming out of her wherever,” a remark widely condemned as vulgar and misogynistic.
Beyond journalists, Trump’s insults toward women have often focused on appearance. During the 2016 campaign, he mocked Carly Fiorina’s face, saying, “Look at that face. Would anyone vote for that?” He derided Stormy Daniels as “Horseface” and has made repeated comments about women’s weight, attractiveness, and physical features. These attacks, as observers note, are not random. They are designed to reinforce the idea that women’s worth is tied to their appearance and that dissenting women can be punished by being labeled ugly, fat, or grotesque.
Leavitt’s defense of “Piggy” thus extends far beyond Catherine Lucey. By excusing the insult, she legitimizes Trump’s broader practice of weaponizing appearance as a political cudgel against women. As press secretary, Leavitt occupies one of the most visible communication roles in the U.S. government. Her words help shape public perception of the presidency and, by extension, the norms of public discourse. Defending Trump’s insult, critics argue, is not just spin—it is complicity in normalizing misogyny at the highest levels of government.
“When female reporters are insulted, interrupted, and demeaned, the consequences extend beyond the individuals targeted,” Spivey wrote. “Women may hesitate to ask tough questions if they know they will be mocked for their appearance or called ‘Piggy.’ By framing women’s questions as ‘nasty’ or ‘threatening,’ Trump undermines the credibility of their reporting.” The normalization of such insults, he continued, leads the public to see female journalists not as professionals but as caricatures.
Some defenders of the president argue that his insults are just words, not worthy of severe condemnation. But words matter, especially when they come from the most powerful office in the land. They shape norms, influence behavior, and legitimize prejudice. When the press secretary defends misogyny, she is not just excusing one insult—she is helping to institutionalize sexism within the government and the broader culture.
For many, the stakes go beyond personal offense. The ability of journalists—especially women—to ask tough questions and hold leaders accountable is fundamental to democracy. When those in power respond with cruelty and those tasked with communicating on their behalf defend it, the integrity of both journalism and governance is undermined. As Trump’s second administration continues, the question remains: Will the normalization of such rhetoric become the new standard, or will the backlash force a reckoning with the language and attitudes that shape the highest echelons of power?
As the dust settles from this latest controversy, one thing is clear: the words spoken on Air Force One have reverberated far beyond the cabin walls, sparking a debate that cuts to the heart of how America values its free press—and the women who dare to speak up within it.
