This just wasn’t the book for me. I believe that Ellen Atlanta has genuine intentions to improve the self-worth of women everywhere. I also applaud her willingness and dedication for tacking incredibly difficult subjects and allowing herself to be so vulnerable. It’s not an easy task by any means, this level of self-introspection, let alone at only 27 years old (she turned 28 while the book was going to press).
I believe that’s where the problem lies for me. Despite her biographical description as a “writer and brand consultant specializing in Gen Z and millennial culture”, her writing style is 100% Gen Z. Honestly, while I generally think that “content/trigger warnings” have gotten completely out of control, I feel like it’s necessary to warn women that this book is SO obsessed with beauty - and assumes all women are as well - that it can almost make you start doubting or questioning things you never gave much thought to before.
That might be very much Gen Z’s experience as the first generation to truly “grow up” under the unforgiving lenses of the social media spotlight, but it’s not quite that intense for Millennial women (at least, not for me or for the women I know).
ACTUALLY: since starting this review, I’ve seen many Gen Z women say that they couldn’t relate at all to this, either.
At times I feel like she’s preaching to me, and honestly? I don’t need her sermons. It’s like she takes the experiences of what’s around her - which is mainly beauty influencer culture- and applies this to how women of every age, race, religion, whatever, think. And it’s simply not the case.
Just to give some examples:
Atlanta makes claims that most women (but especially Gen Z and Millennial) - ”their pursuit of beauty means lifting, shaping, dieting, dyeing, injecting, slicing, scarring, painting, curling, padding, cutting, starving, concealing and revealing. When women are already socially conditioned to compete with one another, narrowing the ideal only makes the competition more fierce. In one study, 80 percent of women interviewed said that they competed with other women over physical appearance.”
What?! I find it incredibly difficult to believe that five sixths of women are engaging in the very long list of behaviors she mentions above, in a constant battle for “beauty dominance.” To make it more problematic, Atlanta simply states, “one study.” Which study? Surely it would be in the notes and references, section, right? Nope. Most chapters, ranging from 20-40 pages each, cite numerous studies and throw out tons of statistics, but strangely, only have two to four references each. That’s unacceptable for me, especially in a book such as this one.
Apparently it is so normalized for us to compete with one another and hate our bodies, that she mentions how in the movie Mean Girls, when the Plastics are in front of the mirror complaining about their supposed “faults”, that:
”I didn’t bat an eyelid at the girls’ commentary on their still-developing selves. I realize now it is meant as satire but for us this was the norm, to break ourselves down in front of our friends, to seek validation and reassurance, and then to refuse to believe any that came our way. The girls were stunning, yes, but it didn’t shock me to hear them complain. I had learnt by the time I was a teenager that there will always be something wrong - even if you’re the most beautiful girl in school.”
Atlanta continues to ponder the relevance of this movie scene in the next paragraph:
“Cady, a previously home-schooled ‘jungle freak’, transgresses the social order by stating a flaw that is a universal, short-term problem. To admit to having bad breath is not to fragment the self but to humanize the self. That is not the game. Women are simultaneously objectified fantasies, and imperfect projects under development, self-loathing beings always looking to evolve towards perfection.
For Cady to name a natural issue that’s easy to fix, one that should have already been dealt with in secret, shatters the illusions of femininity and defies the rules. You should hate something about your body that is difficult, or nigh impossible, to fix; something that requires extensive labor to work on or through. To hate what can easily be changed gets the beauty industrial complex nowhere.
You must hate your bones, your muscles, your sinew, your flesh. You must hate yourself or how you have been constructed. It’s like, the rules of feminism.”
She just goes on and on and on - and on - in a similar vein such as this throughout the book, while interspersing personal stories of extreme nature from popular beauty influencers, herself included. It’s this constantly repeated argument that we only care about the male gaze, that beauty is the only currency we have, that we’re scared to take up space, and that we ”break ourselves down in every dimension, tearing ourselves apart evermore intensely until we were left with nothing but a pile of pixels and particles on the cutting room floor.”
Aside from the extreme assumptions, she also has this tendency to literally make repetitive statements for emphasis, which gets incredibly annoying and feels increasingly forced. When she speaks of the US Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe v. Wade, she mentions how women like her were left with no choices, women whose pregnancies put their lives at risk were left with no choices, and repeats this no less than six times as the grand total. It’s even worse in a later chapter on men harassing women, where she begins each sentence of one paragraph with “I once met a man” and repeats that beginning phrase thirteen times.
Her solution for all of these societal ails? Overthrow the patriarchy! Because every choice we make as women is inevitably a result of the male dominated tech industry. We must also - somewhat contradictorily - find value in our uniqueness, while putting the “sisterhood” and the collective above self-interest. This includes things like smiling at women! Hold space for other women! Recreate the sisterhood of the nightclub bathroom in every interaction you have!
I’m sorry, but her grandiloquent plans for our liberation ring hollow. They are ideas we’ve already heard many times before. Her solution just drips with patronizing rhetoric masquerading as thoughtful new ideas, and I could barely get through the conclusion because of this problem.
Maybe when she’s had another decade or so under her belt she can pen a novel more appealing to the average woman. I do think she has the ability. But the fact that she gives us a glossary to describe terms that have either nothing to do with the Internet or are not exclusive to the Internet feels patronizing as well.
The words “abject”, “parity”, racism”, and “surveillance” are all generously provided for us feeble minded individuals. Yet she uses phrases like ”Leah starts crying because her ex-boyfriend has recently soft-launched a new girl on his social accounts” and ”My Saturn return is pending and I have now lived long enough to see the most treasured parts of myself targeted and torn down…”
What does soft launch mean? Is it cheating? Seriously, I don’t have a clue. I’m assuming that “My Saturn return is pending” has something to do with astrology, but as to what exactly, can’t tell you. Yet these terms are left out of the glossary in favor of very commonplace ones.
Ah! After I employed (verb; 2. applied or used; made use of) the glossary for “soft launch”, but found no answer: nothing in between “shadowbanning” and “subjugation” (the first word I condone its inclusion, the second one, no), I turned to Google to understand what caused Atlanta’s diatribe concerning her friend Leah’s relationship problems:
In slang, a "soft launch" means subtly hinting at a new relationship on social media by posting pictures that allude to the presence of a significant other without fully revealing their identity, often by only showing parts of their body or cropped images, as opposed to a "hard launch" where the partner is openly displayed. Thank you, Google!
This book may appeal to a very narrow audience, but I wouldn’t recommend it at all. I don’t believe it will be helpful for women who aren’t hyper obsessed over their social media presence, and I feel like it could be downright harmful to people for women who are in recovery from some of these excessive habits or addictions. I was just so annoyed by time I got to the end that I almost didn’t finish the last 10-20 pages.
There’s plenty of other books out there dealing with the struggles of women that are relevant for all. Personally, I’d recommend Invisible Women by Caroline Criado Perez, or Men Who Hate Women by Laura Bates (or anything by Laura Bates, really).