Emily Ratajkowski
My Body
4/5
I have immensely enjoyed this collection of essays. It is a series of acute observations, recollections, all of which feature Ratajkowski, her body, her and other’s perceptions about her body, and the things done to her body, with consent or without it. It is not a powerful reframing of women’s issues or feminism or objectification, or empowerment, or or or. While articulate and intelligent, she’s not bell hooks. It’s a collection of engaging personal essays. To step into the book expecting more than that is to do yourself, and the author, a disservice.
Ratajkowski writes about some genuinely heartbreaking experiences surrounding her body and her looks and it’s clear that from a young age, she was taught, directly or indirectly by her parents, that it was a tool to get what she wants, to be possessed by others and not herself, so that she can simulate freedom; money is that freedom for Ratajkowski and the single thing she talks about in the book as much as her body. Two sides of the same coin; what is she if not a self commodifying (cannibalizing?) product, even with this, as she not only sells her images but now also her experiences written out for consumption? That’s not a critique against her, it’s a fact. Over and over again, she details how she consciously separates herself, disassociates, from her body because it is not a body but a product to be assessed and eaten in pieces by others, chiefly men. She delves into this beautifully and deeply through the essays and while her life and mine are nowhere close to similar, the experiences she details are universal and internalized, and this book made me feel like we could have been friends.
For all her self awareness, there are a couple of things she fails to acknowledge: (1) the relationship between her body and other women; (2) how she has upheld and continues to uphold the same things she is critical of in the book. Is it Ratajkowski’s job to dismantle these things and tackle them in a single book? No, it’s not. And I never expected her to. Inherently, there is a conflict of interest here because she benefits financially from her using body as a product and it is unwise to bite the hand that feeds. I understand and support the critiques stating she failed to assess the active role she plays in the system she herself is critiquing. These are facts. But I also participate in systems I am not entirely fond of for financial gain, i.e. I trade my time for money. Our situations aren’t comparable but my point is, I don’t feel like I am in a position to call her a hypocrite. For another thing, it’s clear from the collection of essays that she is dizzy with confusion, her feelings and her actions contradict themselves at many points, and she admits she is contradictory, and I think this is because she is still developing an understanding of the matter. It’s unfair to ask for a binary, black and white answer to such a complex series of demand. All in all, I am half willing to forgive her for wanting to have her cake and eat it too, but I’m hiding all her spoons.
Her body, the labor and product, and her body, the thing she lives in, are the same and try as she might, she can reach no separation. I will be honest and say that I pitied her for a lot of the book, I just felt bad for her. Can there be a selfhood if the self is undivided from the labor/product? And what is left for the self, in a society that capitalizes everything, when the self, too, is commercialized? Is that not the most extreme form of estrangement you can think of? I don’t envy her one bit.
As she warns in the introduction, she doesn’t arrive at any answers. I think she walks into a series of empty rooms, looks in the corners and out of windows, and walks back out empty handed. It feels like she never actually concludes anything, her essays just end but have no ending. Again, I don’t blame her, it’s clear she isn’t finished mulling this over. I understand that this is an ongoing discussion for her and I am happy she is having it. Overall, she is an incisive, fluid, honest writer, my favorite quality in non-fiction reflective essays for obvious reasons. There are major flaws but I’d rather have this book flawed than not at all and I hope she continues to write. I want her to keep writing about how she has changed her view of her body as labor now that she is a mother and has produced a child through an entirely different sort of labor. I so want to read what she has to say.
This ramble makes it sound like I hated it but I didn’t! I enjoyed it very much, despite the flaws.