I wrote this book, so instead of giving it the obvious 5-star rating I think it deserves, here's an excerpt from the "Author's Note and Acknowledgements," which helps explain why I wrote this book:
I never considered writing a hagsploitation book until just these past couple years.
I’m a high school English teacher, and I have the great joy (and burden) of trying to inspire my students through literature. Some- times it actually works. One story that never fails is Joyce Carol Oates’s “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?”
It’s a work of terrifying magnitude with an ending that burrows deeper and deeper into the subconscious upon further reads. Reading it is a thrilling, unsettling, glorious experience, but reading it aloud to my students and actually teaching it has become equally unsettlingand profoundly meaningful.
My female students, in particular, connect with teenager Connie’s plight. Connie is a pretty girl and a pretty girl will sooner or later catch the attention of an unwanted male eye. That eye belongs to Arnold Friend. He is perhaps a sociopath, a rapist, a serial killer, even a de- mon, or merely a hallucination, but from the moment he says, “Gonna get you, baby,” to the final paragraph where Connie opens the screen door of her house and steps out into all that vast land, the story is a white-knuckled read that keeps my students enraptured, making them both terrified for and infuriated by Connie.
Afterward when we discuss the story, my female students always share personal experiences that are so common and pervasive the class sometimes turns into something resembling a support group.
I’m glad. The girls need to share, and the boys need to hear it. Consider: These are 17-year-olds who have for years already en-
dured leering, sexual jokes, catcalling, taunts, come-ons, propositions, stalking, unwelcome touching, sexual abuse, and even assault. In most cases, they have suffered this behavior since puberty.
Occasionally a boy will defend the behavior with the old go-to: We’re just complimenting them or the accusatory, If they didn’t want the attention they shouldn’t dress like that.
That often gets us into a discussion about school dress code, which is distinctly biased against the female body. No shoulders, no midriffs, no backs, no thighs. The most popular rationales for such keep-your-body-covered codes are exactly what you’d expect: We need to teach girls self-respect, and it’s not fair to boys who just can’t control themselves. Ah, boys will be boys. How nice for them to get an excuse while girls get the shame.
It’s just skin, a female student once said. She argued she should be able to show her skin and boys should be able to control themselves. If that’s too liberal-minded for you, maybe there’s a Puritan village somewhere in the New England woods where you can live.
All of that isn’t beside the point, or even secondary, because as Ms. Rose says, “We make excuses for men so they don’t even have to.”
Some stories I’ll never forget: the student who said a 60-year-old man approached her at a gas station to ask if she was married and when she said no, I’m 17, he replied, “If you were my wife, I’d keep you locked in the basement.” Then there’s the students (yes, students, plural) who were followed by men through department or grocerystores or who worked in retail and had to endure the unwanted comments about their beauty and the even more unwanted casual touch when handing over a receipt or coffee.
And then there’s the student who was propositioned by a family friend. This person offered to pay for the student’s college, so long as she didn’t tell her parents. The unsaid yet implied repayment was disguised as a comment about her goddess-like beauty. This situation inspired Haley Fields’s “Graduation Party.” I only wish my student had been able to smash a bottle over the head of that family friend as the character in Haley’s story does.
Are all men monsters? No. Is there a toxic male inside every man? Well, that’s like the proverb about the two wolves that live inside every person—the evil one and the good one. Which one wins? The one you feed, of course.
Connie’s story confirms for many of my students that they are seen, that their experiences are validated. This is good, except the downside is so obvious it’s almost too depressing: Oates’s story is from 1966, almost sixty years ago; this problem with men is nothing new.