Halle Berry’s Fiery Rebuke: Newsom ‘Devalues’ Women, Unfit for White House

At NYT Summit, Oscar Winner Calls Out California Governor’s Menopause Bill Vetoes, Sparking Debate on Leadership and Midlife Women’s Health
In the glittering glow of New York City’s Lincoln Center, where the hum of power players and polished agendas filled the air like a well-rehearsed script, Halle Berry stepped to the podium at The New York Times DealBook Summit on December 3, 2025, her presence commanding the room with the quiet authority of a woman who’s long defied the spotlight’s glare. The Oscar-winning actress, her curls framing a face etched with the wisdom of 59 years, paused for a breath before unleashing a raw, unfiltered truth that hung heavy amid the sea of suits and smartphones. “At this stage in my life, I have zero f–ks left to give,” she declared, her voice steady and resonant, drawing a ripple of knowing laughter from the audience. Then, with the precision of a scene-stealer, she turned her gaze—and her words—toward California Governor Gavin Newsom, who was set to take the stage just two speakers later. “Back in my great state of California, my very own governor, Gavin Newsom, has vetoed our menopause bill, not one but two years in a row,” Berry continued, her tone shifting from wry to resolute. “With the way he’s overlooked women, half the population, by devaluing us in midlife, he probably should not be the next president either. Just saying.” The line landed like a mic drop in a hushed theater, applause swelling as Berry exited to whispers and wide-eyed glances— a moment that blended Hollywood candor with political thunder, reminding everyone that women’s health isn’t just policy; it’s personal, profound, and long overdue for the front page.

Berry’s remarks, delivered during a passionate 15-minute address on menopause awareness and her wellness company Respin, cut through the summit’s usual fare of tariffs and tech disruptors with the sharp edge of lived experience. The 59-year-old actress, whose career spans from Bond girl allure in “Die Another Day” to raw vulnerability in “Monster’s Ball”—for which she became the first Black woman to win Best Actress in 2002—has spent the past five years quietly championing midlife women’s issues. Diagnosed with perimenopause in her early 40s, Berry went public in 2020, sharing how symptoms like hot flashes and mood swings upended her days on set and at home, prompting her to co-found Respin in 2023. The brand, which offers hormone-balancing supplements and educational resources, isn’t just business; it’s Berry’s bid to rewrite the narrative around aging women, a group she described onstage as “simply devalued in this country.” “In 2025, there is a lot to still be talked about and discovered and uncovered, especially if you are a woman navigating midlife and thoughtfully considering your longevity,” she said, her words weaving personal anecdotes—like childhood memories of her mother’s unspoken struggles—with broader calls for equity. It was a speech that felt intimate, urgent, a conversation you’d have over wine with a trusted friend, not in a room full of billionaires and policymakers.

At its heart lay the Menopause Care Equity Act, or AB 432, a bipartisan bill Berry has lobbied for since its introduction in 2023 by Assemblymember Dr. Maggy Krell, a Sacramento oncologist who saw firsthand how insurance gaps left patients like her underserved. The legislation aimed to require health plans to cover menopause treatments—hormone therapy, counseling, even acupuncture—without prior authorization, addressing a void where 80% of women experience symptoms that disrupt work and sleep, per a 2024 North American Menopause Society survey. Sponsors hailed it as a step toward parity, akin to mandates for maternity or diabetes care, with endorsements from AARP and women’s health coalitions. Berry, testifying remotely in April 2024, shared how her own journey—fueled by celebrity access to specialists—highlights disparities for everyday women. “I had the means to figure it out, but what about the single mom in Fresno scraping by, or the teacher in Oakland too embarrassed to ask?” she recounted, her voice cracking just enough to pierce the committee room’s formality.

Newsom’s vetoes—in September 2023 and October 2025—dashed those hopes twice over, each time with explanations rooted in fiscal caution. In his 2023 letter, the governor cited concerns that the bill’s broad mandates could drive up premiums for “millions of working women and families already stretched thin,” echoing a similar rejection the prior year. This October, he reiterated the point, praising the bill’s intent but warning it limited insurers’ ability to curb “unnecessary costs” through utilization reviews. “Despite my call for a more tailored solution, this bill’s expansive coverage mandate… is too far-reaching,” Newsom wrote, proposing instead voluntary guidelines for plans. Berry, in her summit speech, framed it as a deeper oversight—a dismissal of women’s midlife realities by a leader eyeing the White House. Newsom, 58, has fueled 2028 speculation since his 2024 Democratic National Convention keynote, where he positioned himself as the party’s pragmatic fighter against Trumpism. Polls like a November 2025 Emerson survey show him leading hypothetical primaries at 32%, buoyed by California wins on housing and climate, but Berry’s jab—delivered just before his onstage interview with NYT’s Andrew Ross Sorkin—added a personal sting to the national conversation.

Newsom, ever the smooth operator with a Kennedy-esque charm honed in Sacramento’s spotlight, addressed the crowd shortly after, fielding questions on Democratic soul-searching post-2024 losses without directly engaging Berry’s critique. “We’ve got to listen more, lead bolder—starting with families and futures,” he said, pivoting to economic equity and green jobs, his signature blend of optimism and policy wonkery drawing polite applause. Aides later told reporters he respected Berry’s passion, viewing the veto as a tough call in a $300 billion budget crunch, where healthcare costs already consume 30% of expenditures. Yet, the moment lingered, a rare unscripted clash in a summit billed as “unguarded interviews with consequential people,” where Berry’s vulnerability contrasted Newsom’s polish. Sorkin, sensing the undercurrent, quipped, “Halle set the bar high—anything to add on women’s health?” Newsom smiled, nodding to ongoing initiatives like expanded maternal care, but the exchange underscored a tension: In a party grappling with gender gaps—women favored Harris by 12 points in 2024, per exit polls—how does a potential frontrunner navigate vetoes that feel like slights to half the base?

For Berry, the speech was catharsis wrapped in advocacy, a declaration of self-worth after decades navigating Hollywood’s youth-obsessed gaze. From her breakthrough in “Boomerang” at 26 to directing “Bruised” at 55, she’s embodied reinvention, but menopause tested that resilience. “I felt invisible, dismissed—like my value expired with my estrogen,” she told Oprah in a 2023 special, tears glistening as she described isolation that strained her marriage and mothering of daughters Nahla and Maceo. Respin, launched with $10 million in seed funding, channels that into action: Partnerships with OBGYNs for stigma-free screenings, apps tracking symptoms, and lobbying for bills like AB 432. Berry’s summit appearance, timed with Respin’s holiday campaign, amplified the veto’s human toll—stories from fans flooding her DMs: A Detroit nurse sidelined by brain fog, a Seattle executive masking fatigue at board meetings. “This isn’t vanity; it’s vitality—women deserve to thrive, not just survive,” Berry emphasized, her gold chain necklace catching the light as she gestured emphatically, a symbol of the strength she’s reclaiming.

The fallout rippled with the warmth of shared stories and the chill of partisan spin. On X, Berry’s clip amassed 2.5 million views, with #HalleSpeaks trending alongside menopause memes and policy threads. Supporters like Alyssa Milano tweeted solidarity: “Halle’s right—Newsom’s veto hurts us all. Time for Dems to step up for midlife.” Critics from the right, like Fox’s Sean Hannity, piled on: “Even Hollywood sees through Gavin’s glow-up.” Women over 50, Berry’s core audience, flooded comment sections with gratitude: “You said what we’ve whispered for years—thank you for the roar.” A Morning Consult snap poll showed 58% of Democratic women agreeing with Berry’s sentiment, a dip in Newsom’s favorability among that bloc from 72% to 65%. In Sacramento cafes, where baristas pour lattes for Hill aides, conversations turned reflective: “Gavin’s smart, but this feels tone-deaf—women vote,” mused one strategist over a scone.

Newsom’s camp, undeterred, leaned into his record: Expanded Medi-Cal for postpartum care, $500 million in women’s health grants since 2023. “The governor vetoed to protect affordability, but he’s open to fixes,” a spokesperson told Variety, hinting at a 2026 budget tweak. Berry, fielding calls from her New York hotel, remained unapologetic: “I love California—it’s home. But love means speaking hard truths, especially when it hurts.” Her words, raw and real, bridge the chasm between celebrity and citizen, reminding us that policy isn’t abstract—it’s the hot flash at midnight, the overlooked ache in a boardroom, the quiet devaluation that chips at self-worth.

As the summit lights dimmed and delegates spilled into Manhattan’s dusk, Berry’s rebuke lingered like an afterimage—a call not just for Newsom to listen, but for leaders everywhere to see women whole, valued beyond youth’s fleeting frame. In her unfiltered fire, Berry didn’t just critique a veto; she voiced a generation’s unspoken vow: Midlife isn’t an end—it’s the chapter where we claim the narrative, page by powerful page.

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