The Mother of All Questions

The Mother of All Questions by Rebecca Solnit (2017)

I impulsively borrowed this from a friend when I was at his house, despite having plenty to read and only moments before refusing his offer to borrow "anything I'd like" when he saw me browsing his shelves. But Rebecca Solnit is so smart and I so enjoyed Men Explain Things To Me that I couldn't pass up this book.

It actually took me a while to get through the first essay, "A Short History of Silence," which at 50-something pages is a pretty substantial chunk of the book. It was also probably the most abstract, and abstract is not something I am good at. It was about the many ways in which people (and more specifically, women) are silenced and even though it was a bit long and may be too broad and all-emcompassing for me, there were still passages I noted. One example is when she talks about how films primarily featuring men are just films, while those with primarily female characters are considered girls' or womens' films. She says "Men are not expected to engage in the empathic extension of identifying with a different gender, just as white people are not asked, the way people of color are, to identify with other races. Being dominant means seeing yourself and not seeing others; privilege often limits or obstructs imagination."

After this lengthy essay, which took me a few days to read, I read the rest of the book in probably a 24-hour period. As expected, having read Solnit's essays before, I was worked up into a rage, but also couldn't help smile at how clever, erudite, and articulate she is. I'm not great at expressing my thoughts and it's so satisfying to read the words of someone who can pinpoint exactly what it is about something that is so unjust or infuriating.

These essays examine events like the O.J. Simpson murders, Gamergate, and sexual harassment by men from Bill Cosby to Jian Ghomeshi. She talks about how women who have already been treated poorly by men are further harassed, often receiving rape and death threats online. She says "...the plethora of men attacking women and anyone who stands up for women in order to prove that women are not under attack and feminism has no basis in reality are apparently unaware that they're handily proving the opposite."  She always provides interesting statistics, such as that 38% of women murdered are killed by their partners, a sad but unsurprising fact.

In "Men Explain Lolita To Me," Solnit discusses the Esquire article "80 Books Every Man Should Read" (79 of which were written by men) and posits the merits of learning about others through reading, an idea that seems to upset some men. She says "Many among that curious gender are easy to upset, and when they are upset they don't know it. They just think you're wrong and sometimes also evil." (In that same essay she discusses the way that magazines like Esquire and Cosmopolitan feel the need to constantly instruct how to be your gender. "Maybe it says a lot about the fragility of gender that instructions on being the two main ones have been issued monthly for so long.") She points out the way that white men are forever talking about other people who can't take a joke or need to be coddled, when in fact they are the ones who react to jokes about themselves with rage and threats, and respond to criticisms about, say, male video game culture by threatening rape, death, doxxing, and bombs to the women who dare voice this criticism.

Rebecca Solnit gets at so many ideas in surprisingly few pages, and puts voice to things that are dancing on the periphery of my vision that I can't quite express. She's a lot smarter than I am, and I'm grateful that she shares her brilliance with the world. I was interested to learn from one of her essays that she has written a book about the history of walking, called Wanderlust, which I'd like to think I will read someday.

Moxie

Moxie by Jennifer Mathieu (2017)

A teenaged girl in Texas is really fed up with the way girls are treated in her school, and the way the boys are allowed to act towards them. Vivian Carter has endured games of "bump-and-grab" which is exactly what it sounds like, boys constantly telling girls to "make me a sandwich" and wearing t-shirts that say things like "Great legs - when do they open?" It's not even so much that they are doing these things, but that they're getting away with it. But football is king at this high school, and the boys who play it get to do whatever they want. Vivian is inspired by her mother's collection of zines from her Riot Grrl days and stealthily begins her own, which she calls Moxie. And now the double-standard at her school becomes even more apparent.

Viv doesn't tell anyone that she is the girl behind Moxie, the one who is encouraging other girls to find solidarity and participate in protests. She doesn't know what her friends would think. Her new friend Lucy Hernandez is obviously on board with Moxie, but her BFF forever, Claudia, seems more unsure. Viv is accidentally discovered with copies of the zine by attractive new boy Seth Acosta, but he is an ally and keeps her secret. They start dating, which adds a new dimension to the whole situation and gives Viv hope that some boys are actually decent people.

This is not at all getting across the amazingness of this book. I loved everything about it! The complexities of feminism, and how Viv's efforts were received by girls of color, the acknowledgement of the importance of all-girl spaces, the realities of being a feminist while dating boys, who despite their best efforts are just not going to quite get it. I even loved Viv's mom, though I depressingly realized at one point that she is MY AGE. Which is exactly the problem with reading teen books when you're in your 40s, but I'm willing to deal with that because I'm not giving them up.

I first heard of this book because of a horrible, ridiculous review that appeared in Kirkus Reviews. I thought the review was stupid when I first read it because the criticisms just don't belong in a book review, but after actually reading the book I realize the reviewer wasn't even remotely correct. For instance, she criticized the story because boys weren't allowed to participate in the fight against misogyny, which has nothing to do with how well the book is written, not to mention that we are not, as a society, in agreement on that particular issue. But after reading it, it's clear that she's completely wrong about boys being left out - Seth clearly supported and participated in the actions and Vivian was happy to have his support. The reviewer also claims that the characters ignored due process, which, have you ever read a crime novel? And why is this a valid thing to cover in a review? Also, it's not entirely true and honestly, I could go on at length about the reasons why women do not go to the police every time we experience a sexual assault, but again, this subject doesn't belong in a book review. Anyhow, thank you Kirkus for drawing so much attention to this book that many people have now read, who maybe wouldn't even have heard of it had you not so grossly misrepresented it in your review.

Although I'd argue it's always the right time for feminism, I think right now is an especially good time for a book about girls speaking out about sexual harassment and assault. But it's also a great story full of likable and relatable characters, and it's fun! If you haven't read it yet, go grab yourself a copy right away!

Too Fat, Too Slutty, Too Loud

Too Fat, Too Slutty, Too Loud: The Rise and Reign of the Unruly Woman by Anne Helen Petersen (2017)

Each chapter of Buzzfeed writer Petersen's book focuses on a different female celebrity who is unruly in some way, and examines her particular way of being too something. Subjects include Serena Williams, Melissa McCarthy, Abbi Jacobson and Ilana Glazer, Nicki Minaj, Madonna, Kim Kardashian, Hillary Clinton, Caitlyn Jenner, Jennifer Weiner, and Lena Dunham. Some I'm familiar with, some I dislike, and some I had never heard of, but all are controversial in some way and don't quite fit society's mold of how women should be.

I really liked the idea of this book, and the format. Devoting a chapter to each woman gives the reader a chance to get to know that particular person thoroughly. It's still thematic though, as each woman is "too" something different. For instance, Hillary Clinton's chapter is entitled "Too Shrill," and Jennifer Weiner's "Too Loud."

The most interesting to me, I think, was "Too Pregnant," the chapter on Kim Kardashian. The Kardashians are barely on my radar, as I don't pay much attention to celebrities, especially the ones who are famous for no real reason. My impression of this family is that they are shallow, attention-seeking, and of no interest to me. However, I am familiar with the standards to which celebrity women are held, and when one is pregnant there are certain expectations. For instance, a celebrity should remain skinny and toned, but appear like she has a basketball under her shirt. She should be happy and glowing. Kim Kardashian apparently gained weight all over (as women typically do when pregnant) and suffered through a pretty horrible pregnancy. She was uncomfortable and that made her unhappy; she definitely didn't glow.

On the other hand, and in the same extended family, Caitlyn Jenner's chapter ("Too Queer") didn't especially seem to fit in. She's definitely outside of the box in some ways, but Petersen spent a lot of time talking about how much she does fit in with what makes an "acceptable" trans women. She did note that Jenner has brought to the fore many other trans women who don't fit that mold as well.

I've never paid much attention to Lena Dunham ("Too Naked") and find her sort of annoying, but now I have a new appreciation for her. Her character on Girls is awkward and wears unfashionable clothes that don't fit. She is in a lot of romantic and sexual situations and the driving narrative of the show is that the audience sees her as imperfect, but she's confident and sees herself as sexy and desirable.

We are all familiar with Hillary Clinton, obviously, and this chapter mostly just made me sad. Well, angry and sad. It's summed up in this paragraph:

"While other unruly women in this book have learned to tread a narrow lane of acceptability, Clinton's lane has been attenuated to a tightrope. She should be assertive but not bossy, feminine but not prissy, experienced but not condescending, fashionable but not superficial, forceful but not shrill. Put simply: she should be masculine, but not too masculine; feminine, but not too feminine. She should be everything, which means she should be nothing."

The other woman in this book with whom I was most familiar is the author Jennifer Weiner ("Too Loud"), who is well known for speaking out about the gender imbalance of authors reviewed by highbrow publications, especially The New York Times Book Review. I remember when this all happened, and reading this made me angry all over again. Basically, books by women are simply not taken as seriously as those by men and although there are just as many women as men writing books (or maybe more, actually) it's rather suspicious that such a high percentage of reviews are about books written by men. Many books by women are relegated to the chick lit category, which is considered total fluff, even though books by men which also focus on things like relationships are pretty much considered literature. Weiner was very critical about this and of course there was a backlash.  As an aside, I question Petersen's definition of chick lit as "masscult" books that feature "romance, shopping, and other activities women do." Is romance an activity? Anyhow, chick lit is less about the activities and more about the writing style, if you ask me.

All in all, I really enjoyed this book and its in-depth look at women who push boundaries, even if they aren't all viewed as being feminist icons. It goes to show there are many different ways to be a feminist and it actually made me feel hopeful.

Also, I get to check off another category in my Personal Reading Challenge: feminism. I've got four more categories and four more specific titles to go.

You Can't Touch My Hair

You Can't Touch My Hair: And Other Things I Still Have To Explain by Phoebe Robinson (2016)

I hadn't heard of Phoebe Robinson before learning about this book, because I'm hopelessly out of touch with pop culture (more on that later.) What got my attention was that it's a book of essays about feminism and race. As you might know, I'm always up for a good feminist rant, but I've also been trying to read more about race issues recently.

The first two essays are about black hair, her own and as it is presented in film, TV, and the media. Later essays cover a variety of topics, such as the loaded term "uppity," being the token black friend, the myth of the angry black woman, and racist casting calls. Her essay "Dear Future Female President: My List of Demands" gave me a pang, given the current state of things and what could have been. Her final essay, "Letters to Olivia," is a poignant and hopeful series of letters of advice written to her young niece.

As a white lady, I have a lot to learn about what it's like to be black in this country and these essays were pretty enlightening. At the same time, there's a lot I can relate to as a woman. So for me it was a mix of the familiar and the new. And of course much of it was hilarious. She will talk about something pretty serious, but use very comical language and imagery. She manages to strongly call out racism and sexism while still seeming super-friendly, like she's your good friend who cares about you but needs to tell you that you have to do better.

I kept waiting for her to call out some horrid, racist behavior from well-meaning white people and recognize it as something I had done (I am a product of my culture, after all) but fortunately for me that didn't happen. (Which doesn't mean I don't need to do better, because surely I do!) But man, some of the stories she relayed! She once took a writing class in which a white woman wrote a story about a slave who fell in love with her owner's daughter and, when an opportunity arises to escape, she chose to remain a slave so she could remain with her lady love. Which, omg, why would you even think this is a heartwarming ending to this story? Anyhow, Robinson is full of stories like this, proving that the world has not changed quite as much as some of us think it has.

Phoebe Robinson is at least a decade younger than I am and more hip than I've ever been. Some of her words are hashtagged or made into URLs and it was a bit jarring at first. Like mentioning those who aren't "#Blessed to be Oprah" or remembering when she was younger and thought awards shows were "the bomb.tumblr.com." But soon I got used to her unique style, though it took me most of the book to realize that BTdubs is her way of saying BTW. She also made a LOT of pop culture references. Some I didn't get, and some I was surprised that she got (I wouldn't think 30-year-olds would be familiar with Home Improvement.) Her love and admiration for Lisa Bonet made me want to go back and watch everything with her in it.

In summary, this book was both illuminating and a lot of fun to read. I might check out the podcast Phoebe Robinson does with her friend Jessica Williams (who wrote the forward to the book), 2 Dope Queens. I have a feeling it will just make me feel out and very un-hip, but I definitely want to hear more from this talented, witty young woman.

A Tyranny of Petticoats

A Tyranny of Petticoats: 15 Stories of Belles, Bank Robbers & Other Badass Girls, edited by Jessica Spotswood (2016)

If you have been reading this blog for a while you probably know how much I love author Jessica Spotswood. The Cahill Witch Chronicles is one of my favorite series, and I love her new contemporary novel Wild Swans. I'm very happy that Spotswood has stuck to her feminist tradition and edited this book of short stories that feature a diverse cast of young female characters making their way in the world and creating the lives they want. Authors include such well-known names as Marie Lu, Elizabeth Wein, and Marissa Mayer, plus several authors who are completely new to me. All stories are historical fiction that take place in the United States, but some have elements of fantasy and magical realism. They are arranged chronologically, the year and location listed below each title, beginning in 1710 in British North America, ending in Illinois in the summer of 1968.

As I began, I thought I'd write down the titles of the stories I especially liked so I'd remember later which ones I wanted to talk about. Pretty soon it became clear it would be much easier to write down the few I wasn't super crazy about. Mind you, even the ones I didn't like weren't bad, they simply weren't my style (i.e. magical realism.)

So what did I love? "The Journey" by Marie Lu, in which a young Inuit woman's parents are killed by white invaders and she must flee with her sled and dogs to try and reach another village. "The Red Raven Ball" by Caroline Tung Richmond set in Washington D.C. during the Civil War and stars a daring girl determined to reveal a spy at a fancy ball thrown by her grandmother. "Pearls" by Beth Revis, in which a teenage girl is will be forced to marry the man who raped her, but instead leaves to begin a new life as a teacher in remote Wyoming Territory. "The Legendary Garrett Girls" by Y.S. Lee, the story of two bartending sisters in Alaska and what happens when renegade men decide to steal their business. "The Color of the Sky" by Elizabeth Wein, recounting the story of Bessie Coleman, the first black woman to get a pilot's license. And so on, and on. This is a really strong collection.

Some stories I kind of wish were novel-length. I would have loved to spend more time with Yakone, the Inuit woman in Alaska in the early 1700s. Or with brave Helen, leaving behind the men who want to control her and forging a new life as a teacher. Or Madeleine, the title character of Spotswood's story "Madeleine's Choice," who learns early how to make her way through an unfair world and I just want to know if she ends up being happy with her life.

I also learned a lot about American history from this collection. I didn't know about the lives of free people of color in the early 19th century, about the quadroon balls and the "arrangements" between white men and free black women that Spotswood wrote about in "Madeleine's Choice." I didn't know anything about Bessie Coleman either until reading Elizabeth Wein's story. Or the Black Panthers, which of course I'd heard of but never really read anything about. The author of the "Pulse of the Panthers," Kekla Magoon, is publishing an in-depth book about the history and legacy of the Black Panthers which I'm hoping is also a teen book so I can recommend it to my book group. There is so little historical fiction that takes places in the US, yet our history is so rich with surprising and adventurous stories.

I could go on at length about all the stories in this collection - there were great ones that I didn't even mention here. They are all worth reading, and you'll find much to admire about the brave, fierce, unstoppable young women that you'll meet.

Shrill

Shrill: Notes From a Loud Woman by Lindy West (2016)

I had never heard of Lindy West before a couple of coworkers recommended her book of essays, but she's been around for a while. A writer and comic, she has written for the Stranger, Jezebel, The Guardian, and many other publications. Her thought piece "How to Make a Rape Joke" went viral back in 2012 apparently, but I missed the whole thing. (It's worth reading too, so go ahead and click through.) So thank goodness a book of her essays was published or else I might have just gone on not ever reading her brilliant work.

Feminist and body-positive, she takes on such varied topics as abortion, misogyny in comedy, online trolling, and the size of airplane seats. Throughout, she remains wickedly funny. In the first essay, in which she points out how ridiculous it is to ask kids what they want to be when they grow up, she remembers struggling to answer the question and groping for ideas. "Is sour cream a job?" (Ask a stupid question, right?)

In another essay she discusses our standards of attractiveness and how meaningless they are. If an alien came to earth it would likely find no difference in attractiveness between herself and someone like Angelina Jolie. From the imagined alien: "Uh, yeah, so those ones have the under-the-face fat sacks, and the other kind has that dangly pants nose. Fuck, these things are gross."

West also makes fun of diet advice and how seemingly accepting some people are of the prescriptive healthy snacks. For instance, oft-cited advice in staving off hunger between meals is to have six almonds (no more, no less, I guess) or to have an apple. "So fresh! So crisp!" She renames the diet group the Apple Appreciation Circle-Jerk Jamboree.

But it's not all humor, of course; that's just the window dressing. Her essays are powerful and insightful. She excels at making an argument and putting her finger on exactly what makes certain arguments flawed. For instance, in response to conservatives claiming oppression by having to see ads featuring same-sex couples: "Gay people wearing shawl-collar half-zip ecru sweaters does not oppress Christians. Christians turning their gay children out on to the streets, keeping gay spouses from sitting at each other's deathbeds, and casting gay people as diseased predators so that it's easier to justify beating and murdering them does oppress gay people."

Ultimately, West's most powerful tool might be compassion. As an outspoken feminist with an internet presence, it's no surprise that she was trolled, awfully and often. She ignored it best she could until a guy pretended to be her dead father, which kind of crossed the line. At this point she wrote about him in Jezebel, acknowledging all her feelings about how the trolling hurt her, but also acknowledging that trolls aren't monsters, but people who have lost their way and want others to also suffer. To her surprise, the guy emailed her and apologized, starting a dialogue between the two that led to an interview on This American Life. More importantly, it lead to greater understanding. It reminded me a lot of this article about a white supremacist who turned a corner after he was invited to a classmate's Shabbat dinner. Taking the risk to extend compassion towards someone hateful seems to pay off, at least sometimes. You really do catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, it would seem.

There's a lot here to discuss and I will surely keep an eye out for Lindy West's writing now that I know about her. If you are interested in smart, witty discussion of issues like feminism, body image, and rape, this is a must-read.

Bad Feminist

Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay (2014)

I've been following Roxane Gay in the media for a while, so it was high time to read one of her books. Bad Feminist is a collection of essays about feminism, race, politics, and pop culture. A couple were a bit esoteric, but most were totally accessible and relatable. Gay has strong feelings about these issues, but she's also very forgiving and acknowledges that none of us are perfect at living up to ideal standards, including herself, hence the title.

There were a few essays that especially resonated with me. "Not Here to Make Friends" is a condemnation of the double standard requiring fictional female characters to be likable while male characters have much more leeway regarding what sorts of people they are. (It goes without saying that it's already the case in real life.) I was quite familiar with a couple of the examples, Charlize Theron's character in the movie Young Adult and the protagonist in Claire Messud's The Woman Upstairs. Many criticisms of this movie and book centered around how unlikable the characters were. Yet Gay points out that male characters can be downright despicable as long as they are interesting and well-developed. (For the record, I loved Young Adult and although The Woman Upstairs didn't blow me away at the time, it has grown on me considerably in the year since I've read it.)

There's been a lot of recent discussion about trigger warnings, and I feel vaguely opposed to them in a way I can't put my finger on. But Gay does so quite articulately in "The Illusion of Safety/The Safety of Illusion." She points out the difficulty in practical terms, citing an extensive list of topics that she has seen trigger warnings for (eating disorders, poverty, Dan Savage) which perfectly illustrates her conclusion that "Life, apparently, requires a trigger warning." Her next question is how explicit the treatment of the topic must be to merit a warning. Must it be a graphic description of rape, or just the word "rape"? Yet despite these complications and her feelings that no amount of warnings can make our lives feel as safe as we'd wish, she has obvious compassion for people who have gone through traumatic events, and she ultimately isn't opposed to the warnings if people want them. It was an interesting discussion that basically amounted to an argument with herself. And I agreed with both sides of that argument.

Other essays I enjoyed were about the HBO show Girls, Scrabble tournaments, female friendship, sexual violence in popular culture, and The Hunger Games, among others. She just covered so many topics it was rather a whirlwind of interesting ideas.

There were only a few times where her opinion departed from mine. In her critique of Caitlin Moran's How To Be a Woman, she pointed out a passage in which Moran stated her desire to reclaim the label "strident feminist" the way that the N-word has been reclaimed. Gay sees this statement as racist, in that Moran is comparing the two labels, but I don't believe Moran was implying that the labels were equally offensive. Gay also took issue with many of Moran's statements and thought she was undermining her arguments for the sake of humor. I actually think Moran is just naturally funny (as opposed to trying to be funny), and perhaps her arguments aren't impeccably thought out but her book is more of a memoir than a scholarly treatise on feminism.

In writing about abortion, Gay characterizes the issue as a fight between politicians and women, as though all politicians are male and all women are pro-choice. Abortion is a pretty complex issue (though Gay would probably agree with me that it shouldn't be) and her oversimplification does a disservice to her argument.

Overall, the places where I disagree with her are few, and for a collection of so many opinions on such a wide range of topics, I wouldn't expect to agree with everything. Feminism is a pretty broad concept and there are many ways for it to be expressed, and vast room for disagreement within it. In general, I like how she thinks about it, despite calling herself a "bad feminist."

On the contrary, I think she is the best kind of feminist. Here is a woman who is clearly brilliant and a skilled writer, who can criticize without being constantly offended, and who understands the appeal of pop culture. She takes issue with Kanye West while acknowledging how good "Blood on the Leaves" is (and it is!) because she is not some feminist scholar who lives in an isolated tower, untainted by the world. She's a real person who lives in the world and engages with all parts of it, with all the complications that real people have. If she's a bad feminist, then aren't we all?

Men Explain Things to Me

Men Explain Things to Me by Rebecca Solnit (2014)

One day I was killing time in a bookstore when I came across - and could not resist opening - a book entitled Men Explain Things to Me. The title essay describes, in hilarious detail, the author's encounter at a party with a smug man who doesn't want to believe she has written a well-respected book on a serious topic. He asks, "And have you heard about the very important Muybridge book that came out this year?" As if there were two books on the very same niche topic published at almost the same time.

And so begins Solnit's short book of essays about women, gender, power, and communication. I later got a library copy to read in its entirety. Solnit writes about domestic abuse, sexual assault - and specifically about the IMF head who raped a hotel maid - marriage equality, the disappearance of women in (and from) history, Virginia Woolf, and the trajectory of the women's movement. A lot is covered, so I'm just going to relate a few bits that stood out to me.

In "The Longest War" she writes about rape and abuse, and includes some pretty eye-opening statistics. One in five women will be raped in her lifetime, which I knew already, but I didn't know that for Native Americans that number is one in three. Another point she makes about rape is that the emphasis is always on how women can protect themselves. Obviously this is important and the only part of it that we, as individuals can control, but what about focusing some attention on teaching men not to rape? She urges us to consider these not as separate crimes existing in a vacuum, but part of an overall huge problem. When she lays out all of these statistics, it really does seem like an epidemic that should be earning far more of our attention. Another infuriating fact? In 31 states, rapists who impregnate their victims have parental rights. Let that sink in for a minute.

When analyzing violent crimes in general, we talk a lot about things like race and guns and mental illness, but ignore gender. The fact is that almost all violent crime is committed by men. Of the 62 mass shootings in the last thirty years, only one was by a woman. One statistic that stood out to me was this: "Women worldwide ages 15 through 44 are more likely to die or be maimed because of male violence than because of cancer, malaria, war and traffic accidents combined."

Another excellent essay is called "In Praise of the Threat" and gracefully articulates what I've been trying to say for years. Opponents of same-sex marriage frequently decry it as a threat to traditional marriage, and Solnit asks why that's a bad thing. Traditionally, marriage has meant the subjugation of women and loss of their rights, so why would we want to preserve that? She feels that "marriage equality" is an apt phrase as it describes not just same-sex marriage, but equality in all marriages, something she says has been increasingly brought about by the legitimization of marriages between people of the same genders.

Although I got a bit bogged down in the Virginia Woolf essay, in general I found this collection eye-opening and it really got my blood boiling in the very best way. (I do enjoy a good feminist rant! Just ask my coworker Jenny.) The only complaint I had while reading is that Solnit presented quite a few statistics and facts without citations. It turns out that in the acknowledgement she says the citations are available in the online versions of the essays. She didn't include them here because it tends to interrupt the flow of writing, which is understandable. But I would have appreciated that note at the beginning of the book, not the end.

I probably will check some of the citations online, not because I don't believe her but because I want to read more about these issues. For instance, she mentions a huge backlog of untested rape kits and I'm very curious, and somewhat horrified, about why that has happened.

There aren't enough books about women in society that are written in such an accessible, and even humorous, way. I'd love to get my hands on more books like this. I'm considering trying Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay, another recent one. Other books I've read in this vein in the last few years include Bossypants, Lean In, and How To Be a Woman. Do you have any recommendations for non-scholarly writings on feminist topics? Post them in the comments!

How to Be a Woman

How to Be a Woman by Caitlin Moran (2011)

How to Be a Woman was recommended by my coworker Jenny who, among her many fine qualities, is always up for a good feminist rant. This is an uncommon trait these days and one for which I am very grateful. I also know that any book about feminism she recommends is going to be worth reading.

A cover blurb from Vanity Fair calls it "The British version of Tina Fey's Bossypants" and it is quite similar, at least in spirit. Moran describes her experiences growing up in a society where women are too frequently judged by their looks and made to feel uncomfortable when they don't conform to cultural beauty standards. She recounts the awkwardness of puberty, self-deprecatingly reveals her love life, and describes the sometimes graphic physicalities of womanhood such as menstruation, childbirth, and abortion. All with her sharp sense of humor and a great deal of swearing. This is where it begins to differ from Fey's book.

This book is not for the faint of heart. Moran does not shy away from using her words, and includes a whole section in which she lists and examines all the possible names for ladyparts. One of the funniest passages - and please, look away if graphic things bother you - is in the chapter "I Become Furry!" which is all about pubic hair.

"Watch any porn made after, say, 1988, and it's all hairless down there: close-ups are like watching Daddy Warbucks, with no eyes, eating a very large, fidgety sausage."

Oh my god! I love it!

(I think it was around here, still early in the book, when I remembered that the aforementioned Jenny had picked this for a book discussion group at the library. You know, the one attended almost exclusively by 60-something ladies. I had not realized until now just how brave a choice that was.)

Another of my favorite passages - this one with less disturbing visuals - is from chapter 4, "I Am a Feminist!" Moran urges her readers to stand on a chair and shout "I AM A FEMINIST!" and does not exempt boys from this directive:

"A male feminist is one of the most glorious end-products of evolution. A male feminist should ABSOLUTELY be on the chair-- so we ladies may all toast you, in champagne, before coveting your body wildly. And maybe get you to change that lightbulb, while you're up there. We cannot do it ourselves. There is a big spiderweb on the socket."

Okay, just one more. In "I Get into Fashion!" she recounts how her quest for an investment handbag only reaffirmed that she is part of the underclass.

"If I'm honest, the handbag I would probably like most is a big hollowed-out potato with handles on it. A giant King Edward with satchel straps. Then, in times of crisis, I could bake and eat the handbag and survive the winter. That is the way of my people."

Amen, sister.

Despite how I'm presenting it, How to Be a Woman isn't just one hilarious anecdote after another. Real issues are tackled and examined. But it helps that her thoughtful commentary about the patriarchy, abortion, and role models are illustrated by real-life stories about the difficulty of buying underwear, the unwearability of high heels, and that time she got drunk with Lady Gaga. They make her points relatable as well as entertaining.

There were so many passages I wanted to remember and go back to that I have bookmarked and dog-eared this thing to death, which I'm sorry to say since it's a library book. Reading this made me feel like I was 20 again and discovering feminism for the first time, a feeling which was only heightened by attending a Tori Amos concert mid-book. It was all enough to make me want to get together with a group of my closest female friends and burn some bras while shouting "Down with patriarchy!"

In summary, if you are a woman, or love/support/appreciate women, like humor, and aren't offended easily then you should probably read this book. It will have you standing on chairs declaring to startled passersby "I AM A FEMINIST!"