The security moms are this political season's cartoon action figures, the vital voters whom Kerry and Bush are supposedly chasing in the final weeks of the race. These heirs of the soccer moms have provided a handy explanation for how Kerry lost his lead this summer, when terrorism alerts went back up to orange and the scarring images of the school siege in Beslan, Russia, settled into the suburban psyche.

In recent presidential elections women have leaned Democratic by at least 8 percentage points, and after his Boston convention, they favored Kerry by 14. But in recent weeks that margin has vanished, and some polls have shown Bush pulling ahead even among women. So the notion that fear of terrorism was driving normally Democratic women into the Bush camp provided the theorists with a story line and led the Kerry camp to seek out allies like the 9/11 widows.

The reasons behind the shifts in women's views, however, are much more complicated than that, as is Kerry's challenge in winning back female support. Women overall are less likely than men to cite security as a top issue. Women worry more about domestic issues like jobs, where Democrats traditionally have an advantage. The archetypal security mom—a white, married, suburban woman concerned about her family's safety—is not really a swing voter anyway. She has been in Bush's camp from the start, and is more likely to cite his faith and values than his national-security policy as the reason. "I don't even know what [security mom] means," says a senior Kerry adviser. "Is it someone who cares about security more than anything else? That's very few women. Is it somebody who cares about security? That's almost every woman and every man."

But the polls do suggest that plenty of women are in motion, and Kerry has had to struggle since the beginning of this race to win them over—a struggle he can't afford to lose, given that men back Bush over Kerry by a solid margin. Al Gore carried the women's vote by 11 percentage points in 2000, but it was still not enough to win him the White House. "Both parties have had a gender gap—Democrats with men and Republicans with women," says Bush campaign manager Ken Mehlman. "At the moment, our gender gap has been fixed, and theirs hasn't."

The initial soundings from the first presidential debate brought Kerry some good news: an ABC News poll found that women gave Kerry stronger ratings than men did. A CBS poll indicated that Kerry's likability rating among undecided women had moved above the President's. But Kerry has more work to do. "We've suffered a little bit because of our focus on security," says Kerry campaign strategist Joe Lockhart. "We haven't talked enough about issues like health care that women care about." The campaign planned an immediate pivot: Kerry's speech last Saturday focused on the middle-class squeeze.

"Two incomes barely cover the basics," said Kerry. "The costs of health care, gas, child care and tuition are through the roof.

Personal bankruptcies are at an all-time high. And the typical family is making $1,500 less each year." These themes were meant to bring undecided women home to the party in which they have traditionally felt more comfortable. "The bottom line," says Lockhart, "is if that happens, we win the election." Unless, of course, in the process Kerry inspires even more men to head in the opposite direction.

Since they make up slightly more than half the population and are more likely to vote than men, women have always been a target audience. In 2000 nearly 8 million more women than men went to the polls. Women become especially crucial in the last weeks of a race because they tend to decide late. According to a recent TIME poll, 61% of undecided voters are women.

But for all the commentary about the women's vote, women have never been a bloc that could be specifically targeted like tobacco growers or whale watchers. In a close race a group that large has to be sliced into identifiable targets, so that both sides can pick the most promising women to woo—old or young, married or single, the populists, the small-business owners, the social conservatives, the libertarians, the waitress moms.

In interviews across the country, women told TIME that this election matters more than past ones, even as the intensity of the issues pulls them in different directions. Cyrene Ajluni, a lifelong Republican in Johnston, Iowa, who has two teenage children and supported Bush enthusiastically four years ago, has switched sides because, among other reasons, she fears a draft. Kassie Auker, a college student in Cleveland, Ohio, likes Bush's tax policies but thinks gay marriage should be left up to the states. Minneapolis, Minn., secretary Sandy Eischen voted for Bush four years ago, but is now undecided because her husband has been laid off, and, she says, "when you become one of the statistics, you start rethinking things."

Susie Cho, a high school teacher turned law student in Westfield, N.J., usually votes for Democrats but worries about changing leaders in the middle of a war. "Perhaps changing would slow down diplomacy," she says. "Perhaps Kerry would be perceived as weak where we need him to be strong." Lisa Umstead, a day-care receptionist from Philadelphia, usually votes Democratic but this year is inclined to adhere to the housekeeping principle, You make a mess, you clean it up. "Bush started this [war]. Maybe he should finish it," she says.

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