In this fierce, funny, and fearless essay collection, Roxane Gay cuts through labels to redefine feminism in a much gentler and funny way.
Rating: 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
Genre: Non-Fiction
Publisher: Harper Perennial
Review in one word: Playful
Bad Feminist is about being ok with embodying a messy ball of contradictions, enjoying the companionship of men, romantic or not, and yet railing against the mistreatment of women at the same time.
In this incredible selection of essays, Gay confesses to being an unashamed lover of the colour pink, weddings and sappy YA relics like the book series Sweet Valley High.
Gay’s essays are playful, thought-provoking, witty, funny and she has the insane ability to dance between being playful one second and then gravely serious in the next. I enjoyed Gay’s revelation that she refused to be labeled as a feminist when she was younger because she enjoyed giving blow jobs and finds men fascinating.
“I understand why women still fall over themselves to disavow feminism, to distance themselves. I disavowed feminism because when I was called a feminist, the label felt like an insult. In fact, it was generally intended as such. When I was called a feminist, during those days, my first thought was, But I willingly give blow jobs. I had it in my head that I could not both be a feminist and be sexually open. I had lots of strange things in my head during my teens and twenties.”
This was a question that always confused me about feminism and put me off. How can a woman be all about enjoying the company of men and still call themselves a feminist? There was a lot of ideas in this book that liberated me from the straight-jacket narrative of traditional man-hating concepts of what feminism is.
In sparkling and refreshing prose, Gay writes about how she loves dresses and weddings and yet sings along to rappers who disparage women ruthlessly in their lyrics. She cringes at rape jokes yet adores problematic reality TV shows.
“Two wrongs do not make a right. Feminism’s failings do not mean we should eschew feminism entirely. People do terrible things all the time, but we don’t regularly disown our humanity. We disavow the terrible things. We should disavow the failures of feminism without disavowing its many successes and how far we have come. We don’t all have to believe in the same feminism. Feminism can be pluralistic so long as we respect the different feminisms we carry with us, so long as we give enough of a damn to try to minimize the fractures among us.”
Gay doesn’t pretend to have all the answers, and that’s why she’s so relatable. This is a book for anyone who’s ever felt like they’re failing at being a woman for whatever myriad of reasons that society tells you that you don’t fit the cookie cutter mould – that’s probably most of us.
Gay is very loveable and gives us all permission to be flawed, messy and well-meaning people full of contradictions. This is a book to inspire you make you realise that yes- you can both like men and advocate for women’s rights.
“Despite what people think based on my opinion writing, I very much like men. They’re interesting to me, and I mostly wish they would be better about how they treat women so I wouldn’t have to call them out so often. And still, I put up with nonsense from unsuitable men even though I know better and can do better. I love diamonds and the excess of weddings. I consider certain domestic tasks as gendered, mostly all in my favor as I don’t care for chores—lawn care, bug killing, and trash removal, for example, are men’s work.
Sometimes, a lot of the time honestly, I totally fake “it” because it’s easier. I am a fan of orgasms, but they take time, and in many instances I don’t want to spend that time. All too often I don’t really like the guy enough to explain the calculus of my desire. Then I feel guilty because the sisterhood would not approve. I’m not even sure what the sisterhood is, but the idea of a sisterhood menaces me, quietly, reminding me of how bad a feminist I am. Good feminists don’t fear the sisterhood because they know they are comporting themselves in sisterhood approved ways.
Her essays dance between razor-edged critiques of race, gender, and media, and deeply personal meditations on trauma, body image, and what it means to feel out of place. Each piece is a masterclass in the art of the conversational essay: accessible, biting, and thoughtful. The insights from each essay stay with you and haunt your thoughts for days afterwards. There is a lot in this collection, about women and their relationship to food and much more, too much to cover here.
Content Catnip 