I fucking hate Roxanne Gay’s Bad Feminist. It’s disappointing on every level and has nothing thought-provoking to say about anything. It’s full of obvious statements, juvenile essays about YA books she loves! and easy, breezy criticisms of other books. If you want to read about feminism, don’t start with this book. It was reviewed (and marketed) as a book about gender issues and feminism. Aside from the introduction, the topic of gender and feminism isn’t broached in any serious way until page 71 in a terrible chapter called “Garish, Glorious Spectacles.” I wish the title had reflected the reality that this is a book of general essays in which feminism is just one of many topics. I’ve also learned that many (if not all) of the essays were previously published on the internet. Had I known this, I never would have bought it. Anyone writing any kind of shit can be “published” on the internet. Bad Feminist is a deliberately provocative title designed to grab media attention, thus readers’ attention. Don’t fall for the hype. The writing is technically competent, but not at a level I expected. Gay often tries to be funny…she’s not. In fact, in other essays she demonstrates a very amusing lack of humor and inability to see the joke—particularly when it’s on her. She has an unusual background—daughter of Haitian immigrants, often the only black girl amongst white girls and later, the only professional black woman in her department if not the whole university—but her experiences do not translate into dynamic details. Her writing is as bland and as unremarkable as the popular white girls she worshipped in school and the creepy perfect blond girls in the Sweet Valley High books that she desperately wanted to become. While I suppose that Gay is intelligent and accomplished and an adult (I suppose this because she tells me so), that does not come through in her essays. In the first chapter, “Feel Me. See Me. Hear Me. Reach Me,” Gay discusses how hard she’s worked to achieve her successes and how much she wants to be liked. She comes across as desperate to be liked—both in her younger schooling days and now. This impression doesn’t hold true for all of the essays, but she still seems to be that young girl and grad student craving acceptance and affection from popular white girls. Her essays have no teeth; they do not shock me, surprise me or offend me. I was promised a bad feminist and Gay does not deliver.
The essays are grouped into subjects: “Me,” “Gender & Sexuality,” “Race & Entertainment,” etc. The essays in her first section, “Me,” are a colorless summary of her childhood and schooling, leading into her career as a professor. My opinion of those essays: she watches too much crappy tv and needs to get a life. She also needs to get some self-esteem and quit wishing for people to like her. Like yourself first. The essay, “Peculiar Benefits” takes on the subject of “privilege.” She repeats the word “privilege” so many times it begins to sound weird in my head. Privilege, privilege, privilege. She talks about how she is privileged, how others are privileged and the different types of privilege, e.g. economic, gender, religious, racial. We’re all guilty of being privileged in some way or another and we shouldn’t judge others. She talks about Playing the Game of Privilege and that it’s mental masturbation. I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about and who plays this game. I understand that, yes, if you’re white, you have a leg up over all the other minorities. If you’re also white, male, and wealthy then you’ve hit the jackpot of privilege. But she goes on and on about this notion of privilege and I can’t help but think she’s dancing around the subject of affirmative action. She never says that but she alludes to it (not in this essay). If she wants to discuss affirmative action as a way to correct white privilege, then why doesn’t she? Or if that’s not what she means, then she should say that too. It’s as if she’s saying, look, we all have some kind of privilege so stop judging the idea of affirmative action. She’s defending it without being explicit. That’s gutless. Say what you mean for crying out loud. That’s a good discussion to have and as a white person I’d be very interested to hear her thoughts on it. But she hides behind the word “privilege” and avoids having a discussion that is worthy of having.
In “To Scratch, Claw, or Grope Clumsily or Frantically,” Gay tells the reader all about her experiences competing in Scrabble tournaments. I don’t give a shit about Scrabble tournaments. After reading this trivial and not-funny-at-all essay, I give even less of a shit about competitive Scrabble. I didn’t think that was possible, but Gay, with her 30 annoying footnotes and excessive details about the rules of tournament Scrabble, proved to me it was. I don’t know where this essay belongs, but it does not belong in a book entitled Bad Feminist.
In the “Gender & Sexuality” section, the essays do not improve. Her first essay, “How to Be Friends with Another Woman” is a long list of (mostly) common sense items. Seriously, if you need to be told to be genuinely happy for your woman friends when they are successful and happy (#5), then you’re probably an asshole who shouldn’t have friends. Other items are so incredibly juvenile and immature (#6B: Begin serious conversations with an emphatic “GIRL” and #9: “Don’t let your friends buy ugly outfits or accessories you don’t want to look at when you hang out. This is just common sense” 49—what the fuck, Roxanne. Are you 16?) that I did a head smack when reading them. This list completely undermines my efforts to take anything Gay says seriously.
That’s my biggest problem with Gay—I can’t take her seriously. Her essays seem to have been written with barely any thought and very little research. She wants approval for saying that yeah, sexism is bad and racism is bad. Really? That’s not much of a stretch. She reminds me of an idiot former co-worker who often described herself as a “different kind of Christian” because she didn’t say anything mean about black people and thought gay people should be allowed to marry. I mean…wow. Please, congratulate yourself on meeting the lowest expectation of human kindness. That’s how I think of Gay. She seems to want to be loved, respected, and applauded for saying the most obvious fucking things. Gay has nothing of interest to say to me. Nothing. She often doesn’t seem to understand the books she reads and criticizes. She quotes two sentences from Caitlin Moran’s How To Be A Woman and completely misses the point of the text (and the joke)! Caitlin Moran: “All women love babies—just like all women love Manolo Blahnik shoes and George Clooney. Even the ones who wear nothing but sneakers, or are lesbians, and really hate shoes, and George Clooney.” This is how Gay interprets that: “Again, this is funny, but it is also untrue, and to try to generalize about women for the sake of humor dismisses the diversity of women and what we love. Moran undermines herself by privileging [there’s that damn word again] feminism as something that can exist in isolation of other considerations. Her feminism exists in a very narrow vacuum, to everyone’s detriment” (104). The joke, of course, is that Moran is being sarcastic—women are supposed to like those things, even if it’s obvious they don’t. I would guess (since Gay very carefully picks out sentences to criticize) that Moran’s greater theme is that women are viewed in a very narrow spectrum by (someone). The second joke is on Gay for being oblivious of Moran’s joke. This seems to be the norm of Gay’s critiques of other books. She is quick to form criticisms of the books and doesn’t put enough effort into digesting what she’s read.
Gay is clear about one thing: her enthusiastic consumption of popular media. Anyone over the age of 25 who has such fangirl reactions to reality tv, The Hunger Games (“Let me be clear: Team Peeta. I cannot fathom how one could be on any other team” 138) and the Sweet Valley High series has lost my respect. Not that an intelligent woman can’t enjoy these things. But her essays about these topics smack of school-girl fervor. Plus she included them in a book titled Bad Feminist--a book I expected would be full of thought-provoking essays on feminism, not squees over Peeta. Her essay about the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy is way longer than the subject deserves. Gay makes the mistake of taking the books seriously. She knows they are based on Twilight fan fiction (correction: they are fan fiction—James basically just changed the characters’ names), however she feels the need to point out the obvious: the books are sloppily edited, poorly written, and unrealistic (!). Despite how incredibly silly and ridiculous the books are, she criticizes them for: “…flagrantly pathologiz(ing) the BDSM lifestyle as strictly a way for fucked-up people to work out their emotional issues…it is not an accurate portrayal of the community. It sends a wrong and unfair message about kink” (200). Gay, let’s keep some perspective: It’s fucking Fifty Shades of Grey. Anyone who takes anything in the books seriously is already a lost cause. Plus, it’s a fictional book. Based on Gay’s logic, any author who describes her serial killer character as a blue-eyed blonde is also “inaccurately portraying” blue-eyed blondes. After all, not all of them are murderers. She continues: “The books are, essentially, a detailed primer for how to successfully engage in a controlling, abusive relationship” (201). As if men (and women, although really, men) need a “primer” for how to control women. Yes, I’m sure that men who decide to be controlling think to themselves: “Hmm…I’d like to be able to completely control and dominate my woman but don’t know how to go about it. I guess I’ll read Fifty Shades of Grey because it’s recommended as the perfectly detailed primer for how to successfully engage in controlling, abusive relationships.” What’s even dumber is that Christian Grey never does control Ana the idiot. If anything, she controls him with her whining, her tears, and her (often unintentional) slow response to answering his texts and emails. Ana makes her own choices. She chooses to stay with him. He doesn’t force her. Gay even unwittingly undermines her own “Mr. Grey is an evil controlling asshole” assertion by writing he “tries” to control her; she “inexplicably” signs an agreement (if she had no choice in the matter, there’d be nothing “inexplicable” about it); he “offers” to travel with her; and: “Time and again, she chooses to sacrifice what she really wants for the opportunity to be loved by her half-assed Prince Charming” (203). Ana wasn’t in a controlling, abusive relationship. He warned her about the kind of “relationship” he wanted. She thought she could turn him into the perfect boyfriend. That’s it. What’s so amusing (disgusting, irritating) about this essay is that, one, she put way more fucking thought into it than she did her supposed feminist essays and two, she says we cannot dismiss the flaws of the trilogy just because the books are fun and the sex is hot (giggle). Oh, no. “The damaging tone has too broad a reach. That tone reinforces pervasive cultural messages women are already swallowing about what they should tolerate in romantic relationships, about what they should tolerate to be loved by their Prince Charming” (204). Those aren’t the flaws of the books. The “damage” of the books is that they are poorly written, shoddily (if at all) edited and yet they were published and made a lot of money. These books demonstrate that the reading public easily embraces shitty books—that’s, as far as I’m concerned, the real damage of these books.
At the end of this horrible book of essays, Gay finally explicitly revisits her (supposed) main thesis in “Bad Feminist: Take One” and “Bad Feminist: Take Two.” The first essay is a whole lot of privilege bitching about Sheryl Sandberg’s book Lean In. The second essay explains that she is a bad feminist because she apparently doesn’t fit the very narrow definition of a feminist that Gay herself decided upon. She likes the color pink. She likes reading Vogue. She likes dresses. She shaves her legs (sweet Jesus say it isn’t so). She doesn’t know anything about cars. She listens to music that has sexist lyrics. She commits the unpardonable sin of liking men, having sex with them (no!) and wanting babies (that’s it, kill her). Who is her audience? Who the fuck is she speaking to? It’s as if she’s trying to differentiate herself from Andrea Dworkin (who probably would have throttled her for liking pink and wearing dresses) but I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that Gay has not one fucking clue who Andrea Dworkin was. So what is her definition of a feminist? This is what she says: “My favorite definition of ‘feminist’ is… ‘women who don’t want to be treated like shit.’ This definition is pointed and succinct, but I run into trouble when I try to expand that definition. I fall short as a feminist. I feel like I am not as committed as I need to be, that I am not living up to feminist ideals because of who and how I choose to be” (303). So what ideals is she not living up to? Why does liking pink, listening to misogynistic rap music, and liking babies make you a bad anything? Why does the definition she cites have to be expanded to include arbitrary conditions and limitations? Basically Gay calls herself a “bad” feminist because she is (gasp!) a human woman full of contradictions. Just like, I guess, every other human woman on the planet. She likes shitty reality television shows, obsesses over YA novels and enjoys music with non-PC attitudes towards women. Gay admits this in her essays, proclaims that these interests are bad for her feminist soul, then pats herself on the back for being so, so brave to admit all this to the world. Now we, the reading female public, should wipe the tears from our eyes and thank her for showing us the way—we too can be brave and admit our love for shitty tv and garbage novels! Thank you, Roxanne Gay! If you like all that stuff and still have the courage to call yourself a feminist (albeit a “bad” one), then we must be strong enough to hang out our feminist flags too!
Give me a fucking break. Gay has absolutely nothing to add to the conversation about feminism. As a black woman she has nothing to add to the conversation about racism either. All her indignation is of the most obvious kind. I’m angry because I believed a very polished and misleading marketing campaign and bought this book. I’m angered by the sophomoric writing and juvenile essays and her complete lack of understanding regarding feminism. To narrowly define feminism by the shallow guidelines of your favorite color, your preference in entertainment and whether you shave your various body parts is fucking ridiculous and an insult to intelligent women and men who actually do call themselves feminists and actually do fucking think about what the word means. A feminist is a person who demands to be treated as a human being. A person who wants control of her body, who refuses to be ashamed for being a sexual being, who wants to be respected and receive equal pay for her knowledge, abilities and accomplishments. A feminist does not limit the idea of feminism to only professional women, to only heterosexual women, to only white women. Gay is a bad feminist not because she likes pink or reads Vogue. She’s a bad feminist because she thinks those fucking things even matter.