I worked overtime to be anything but this woman, and it was exhausting and unsustainable and even harder than simply embracing who I am. For so long I told myself I was not this woman – utterly human and flawed. Really, though, I'm a woman in her 30s, struggling to accept herself and her credit score. I am supposed to be a good feminist who is having it all, doing it all. Because I have so many deeply held opinions about gender equality, I feel a lot of pressure to live up to certain ideals. My success, such as it is, is supposed to be enough if I'm a good feminist.
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This kind of thinking keeps me up at night, but I pretend it doesn't because I am supposed to be evolved. I worry about dying alone, unmarried and childless, because I spent so much time pursuing my career and accumulating degrees. I am willing to make certain compromises (not sacrifices) in order to do so – namely, maternity leave and slowing down at work to spend more time with my child, writing less, so I can be more present in my life. I'm not even sure what the sisterhood is, but the idea of a sisterhood menaces me, quietly, reminding me of how bad a feminist I am. Then I feel guilty because the sisterhood would not approve. All too often I don't really like the guy enough to explain the calculus of my desire. I am a fan of orgasms, but they take time, and in many instances I don't want to spend that time. Sometimes – a lot of the time, honestly – I totally fake "it" because it's easier. I consider certain domestic tasks as gendered, mostly all in my favour because I don't care for chores – lawn care, bug killing and trash removal, for example, are men's work. I love diamonds and the excess of weddings. And still, I put up with nonsense from unsuitable men even though I know better and can do better. They're interesting to me, and I mostly wish they'd be better about how they treat women so I wouldn't have to call them out so often. I still call my father with questions about cars, and am not terribly interested in changing any of my car-related ignorance.ĭespite what people think based on my writing, I very much like men. When I take my car to the mechanic, they are speaking a foreign language. If I take issue with the unrealistic standards of beauty women are held to, I shouldn't have a secret fondness for fashion and smooth calves, right? I have opinions on maxi dresses! I shave my legs! Again, this mortifies me. Maxi dresses are one of the finest clothing items to become popular in recent memory. For years I pretended I hated them, but I don't. I read Vogue, and I'm not doing it ironically. If I have an accessory, it is probably pink. I used to say my favourite colour was black to be cool, but it is pink – all shades of pink. (I am mortified by my music choices.) I care what people think. "Bitch you gotta shake it till your camel starts to hurt." Poetry. The classic Ying Yang Twins song Salt Shaker? It's amazing. When I drive to work, I listen to thuggish rap at a very loud volume, even though the lyrics are degrading to women and offend me to my core. I want to be in charge, respected, in control, but I want to surrender, completely, in certain aspects of my life. Sometimes I feel an overwhelming need to cry at work, so I close my office door and lose it.
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I want to be strong and professional, but I resent how hard I have to work to be taken seriously, to receive a fraction of the consideration I might otherwise receive. Bad Feminist is a sharp, funny, and spot-on look at the ways in which the culture we consume becomes who we are, and an inspiring call-to-arms of all the ways we still need to do better.I want to be independent, but I want to be taken care of and have someone to come home to. The portrait that emerges is not only one of an incredibly insightful woman continually growing to understand herself and our society, but also one of our culture. I once live-tweeted the September issue." In these funny and insightful essays, Roxane Gay takes us through the journey of her evolution as a woman (Sweet Valley High) of color (The Help) while also taking readers on a ride through culture of the last few years (Girls, Django in Chains) and commenting on the state of feminism today (abortion, Chris Brown). I read Vogue, and I'm not doing it ironically, though it might seem that way.
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I used to say my favorite color was black to be cool, but it is pink, all shades of pink. Abstract:"A collection of essays spanning politics, criticism, and feminism from one of the most-watched young cultural observers of her generation, Roxane Gay.