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charmaineac 's review for:
Rules for Being a Girl
by Katie Cotugno, Candace Bushnell
Okay, listen. I've never read anything by Candace Bushnell — but she is obviously iconic. And Katie Cotugno? Hands down, a favourite author. Now that that's out of the way...
I AM LIVID!!! Oh my God, my blood is boiling. And I mean that as the highest possible praise. This book makes me want to listen to fricken Beyoncé and yell about feminism. INJUSTICE ANYWHERE IS A THREAT TO JUSTICE EVERYWHERE. Ugh.
This book is written with a tender, light touch at first. It's timid and calm, until it's riotous and spinning completely out of control in a completely believable way. At first, I almost pity Marin. I recall: wow, a lot of young girls do have these worries about not being too much, but also doing enough to counteract being less-than — luckily I never felt that way. But as the injustices piled up; as it became something BIGGER with commentary on socioeconomic privilege and authority figures who are predisposed against young girls' lived experiences (plus: endless, doubt-inducing backlash that comes from "he-said, she-said" situations), something clicked. I got the point. And then I got angry... no, perhaps more accurately, I got inspired. This book is a fricken feminist MANIFESTO. WHO WANTS TO START A FEMINIST BOOK CLUB WITH ME?
I heartily agree with the points raised about how "Only white women care about feminism, because any other intersectional woman feels more marginalized by her other labels." I mean, this book is written by two white women, is it not? And yet it takes some real self-awareness for the authors to even raise that kind of issue in this book. And then I realized, if the likes of BEYONCÉ and CHIMAMANDA NGOZI ADICHIE and SO MANY OTHER POWERFUL WoC can speak out about feminism among the many other injustices they face, then yes — I should care more too. I should care about being the only woman at the table a countless number of times. I should care about structural systems of exclusion like fantasy sports pools and worldwide company sports tournaments only available to men. I should care about a managing partner telling me during an internship, "We're bringing an intern to the steerco because these men have never seen a woman in the boardroom before! Haha!!" (Cheapening the experience as though my merits and contributions that I literally made during the meeting weren't reason enough to bring me along). I should care that my mother was almost once rejected from a job before I was born because she was "of child-bearing age" (but she stood up to the hiring manager and got that job anyway, gosh darn it!). I should care that people still perceive family planning as a women's burden and disadvantage — and recognize that it's so not okay to whisper that "Another [x] child? Well... that's a bit much, isn't it?" And that's only the tip of the iceberg.
While Marin's first editorial didn't strike a chord with me, there was this other quote in the book (that I'm having trouble finding now!) about how we all have so much trouble empathizing with various marginalized and intersectional groups in aspects where we are part of the majority. We simply do not understand what it's like to live and experience the world without that privilege. Sometimes it may feel obvious, but also: we all need these reminders sometimes, don't we? Get WOKE.
There are a couple minuscule details I was displeased with: I didn't like Marin's selfishness at times towards people who treated her with the utmost respect. I didn't like how Gray's disability was one of convenience; how all of a sudden he could spend all this time reading quietly or whatnot (it felt contradictory and like we were shoehorning some "other-ness" unnecessarily?). I didn't like the eventual chat with Chloe, because (while I totally called it), it felt so predictable and like such a cop-out. Because even without someone in Chloe's circumstance, there are people —there are women—who legitimately undermine victims, and I wish we called more attention to that.
Most of all though, I disliked how this book was marketed and labelled as YA fiction (ostensibly for girls, because... it certainly seems that way), because it's an Important™ story that deserves more attention, especially from those who feel the most removed from this "kind" of content. At the same time, I understand how books like these provide critical support for young girls too — to ensure that they feel seen, inspired, and heard wherever they are in their feminist journey.
I AM LIVID!!! Oh my God, my blood is boiling. And I mean that as the highest possible praise. This book makes me want to listen to fricken Beyoncé and yell about feminism. INJUSTICE ANYWHERE IS A THREAT TO JUSTICE EVERYWHERE. Ugh.
This book is written with a tender, light touch at first. It's timid and calm, until it's riotous and spinning completely out of control in a completely believable way. At first, I almost pity Marin. I recall: wow, a lot of young girls do have these worries about not being too much, but also doing enough to counteract being less-than — luckily I never felt that way. But as the injustices piled up; as it became something BIGGER with commentary on socioeconomic privilege and authority figures who are predisposed against young girls' lived experiences (plus: endless, doubt-inducing backlash that comes from "he-said, she-said" situations), something clicked. I got the point. And then I got angry... no, perhaps more accurately, I got inspired. This book is a fricken feminist MANIFESTO. WHO WANTS TO START A FEMINIST BOOK CLUB WITH ME?
I heartily agree with the points raised about how "Only white women care about feminism, because any other intersectional woman feels more marginalized by her other labels." I mean, this book is written by two white women, is it not? And yet it takes some real self-awareness for the authors to even raise that kind of issue in this book. And then I realized, if the likes of BEYONCÉ and CHIMAMANDA NGOZI ADICHIE and SO MANY OTHER POWERFUL WoC can speak out about feminism among the many other injustices they face, then yes — I should care more too. I should care about being the only woman at the table a countless number of times. I should care about structural systems of exclusion like fantasy sports pools and worldwide company sports tournaments only available to men. I should care about a managing partner telling me during an internship, "We're bringing an intern to the steerco because these men have never seen a woman in the boardroom before! Haha!!" (Cheapening the experience as though my merits and contributions that I literally made during the meeting weren't reason enough to bring me along). I should care that my mother was almost once rejected from a job before I was born because she was "of child-bearing age" (but she stood up to the hiring manager and got that job anyway, gosh darn it!). I should care that people still perceive family planning as a women's burden and disadvantage — and recognize that it's so not okay to whisper that "Another [x] child? Well... that's a bit much, isn't it?" And that's only the tip of the iceberg.
While Marin's first editorial didn't strike a chord with me, there was this other quote in the book (that I'm having trouble finding now!) about how we all have so much trouble empathizing with various marginalized and intersectional groups in aspects where we are part of the majority. We simply do not understand what it's like to live and experience the world without that privilege. Sometimes it may feel obvious, but also: we all need these reminders sometimes, don't we? Get WOKE.
There are a couple minuscule details I was displeased with: I didn't like Marin's selfishness at times towards people who treated her with the utmost respect. I didn't like how Gray's disability was one of convenience; how all of a sudden he could spend all this time reading quietly or whatnot (it felt contradictory and like we were shoehorning some "other-ness" unnecessarily?). I didn't like the eventual chat with Chloe, because (while I totally called it), it felt so predictable and like such a cop-out. Because even without someone in Chloe's circumstance, there are people —there are women—who legitimately undermine victims, and I wish we called more attention to that.
Most of all though, I disliked how this book was marketed and labelled as YA fiction (ostensibly for girls, because... it certainly seems that way), because it's an Important™ story that deserves more attention, especially from those who feel the most removed from this "kind" of content. At the same time, I understand how books like these provide critical support for young girls too — to ensure that they feel seen, inspired, and heard wherever they are in their feminist journey.