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441 reviews for:
This Will Be My Undoing: Living at the Intersection of Black, Female, and Feminist in (White) America
Morgan Jerkins
4.03 AVERAGE
441 reviews for:
This Will Be My Undoing: Living at the Intersection of Black, Female, and Feminist in (White) America
Morgan Jerkins
4.03 AVERAGE
Listened to this as an audiobook and I’m glad I did. It’s narrated by the author, which I always appreciate. I couldn’t stop listening. It will make you think and, if you’re a white woman like me, it’ll probably make you feel (appropriately) like an ashole. Nothing can change without accepting the past, our entire racist past, and our personal role as undeservingly privileged white people. We have to keep reading even when it stings, really especially when it stings, so that we move forward with intention and our focus on ending racism and racist practices. As other readers have noted, Jerkins’s book is particularly powerful because it centers her personal experience as a Black woman in America - the best essays were the personal ones that allowed us to see the world from Jerkins’s perspective. I do think the book could have benefited from additional editing - it could sometimes feel a little disorganized.
Chapters 2 and 9 are everything! I need to re read over and over again.
I expected to really love this and didn't. The writing felt a bit immature and repetitive at times. Others have pointed out some of Jerkins' inconsistencies in how she talked about vs reacted to street harassment, which I don't think makes her hypocritical, but I would have liked that...disconnect? I don't know what to call it, but would have liked it explored further.
Her tone was also a bit overly moralizing and absolute, which grated a bit. I completely understand the dichotomy of white women being the representation of purity vs BIPOC women, but it felt a bit too binary in her exploration. I also wanted a further exploration of her privilege and how she moved through the world, which felt a bit surface level at times. She does explore it, but I couldn't connected all the threads she was weaving together. It came off as disjointed rather than cohesive.
I think my expectations were just off the mark for this one. I was craving something a little more rigorous and/or academic and this was much more personal and insecure at times. I'd like to read her again when she is feeling secure in her career.
Her tone was also a bit overly moralizing and absolute, which grated a bit. I completely understand the dichotomy of white women being the representation of purity vs BIPOC women, but it felt a bit too binary in her exploration. I also wanted a further exploration of her privilege and how she moved through the world, which felt a bit surface level at times. She does explore it, but I couldn't connected all the threads she was weaving together. It came off as disjointed rather than cohesive.
I think my expectations were just off the mark for this one. I was craving something a little more rigorous and/or academic and this was much more personal and insecure at times. I'd like to read her again when she is feeling secure in her career.
I listened to this book (read by author) and I loved it. She is fierce, as in unapologetic and bold and honest. I was inspired, even (I think) chastised (?) but overall I enjoyed these essays. Recommend.
This debut signals the arrival of a prodigious new talent. Looking forward to reading whatever she writes next.
Feb 2018 My Book Box Non-fiction pick.
Disclaimer: I am a white woman. Additionally, I teach students who come from the same places in New Jersey that Jerkins cites in this book. I am trying not to center myself in the narrative, but the first paragraph of the review is in part a gut reaction, so please bear with me.
I am conflicted about this book. The thing that Jerkins does and does is generalize. These sweeping generalizations are off putting. I’m not even talking about the whole voting for Trump thing. A high percentage of white woman voted for Trump, and these are the women she speaks about there (the grammar backs this up, so if someone is complaining about that, that's misguided to put it nicely). No, I’m talking about like in her discussion of the French film Girlhood. I remember the discussion and reaction to that movie. While Jerkins' take on the film is overall interesting, she makes it sound like Black women all across the global are exactly alike. Look, I’m not a black woman, so maybe, for all I know, this is true. But I would imagine that recent immigrants to France who come from Africa also have a whole set of issues that are not related to being slaves in America – connected to the slave trade and colonialism, yes - and are different than an African-American woman from whereever USA. She does the same when she talks about white girls at her school, and how they never had to deal with being assaulted, harassed or molested sexually because their whiteness protected them. In fact, the one time she does mention harassment towards a woman who at the very least presents as white, she is almost dismissive of it. I’m not disregarding or ignorant to misogynoir that exists, and it is far easier to be female and white. However, I teach students (white, black, Asian, and Native American, some of whom present white, so I doubt another sweeping generalization Jerkins makes), and I know that the number of all-female students who have been sexually molested or harassed (or raped) by their lower and secondary school’s peers (as I have been) is great. In fact, it is a rarity to have a class where a female student hasn’t been (and the classes have far more ladies than gentlemen). I found the dismissal and generalization hard, perhaps cruel.
But that’s the point isn’t it? The world has been belittling or simply out right ignoring the pain of black women and girls for hundreds of years. This is what Jerkins is talking about. She’s showing the reader here a bit of it, whether Jenkins intended to do so or not.
What’s the term? Checking my privilege? Humbling?
It’s why I am conflicted about this book. Feminism should be intersectional. To be so, we need to listen to everyone, talk, and listen without judgement or hackle raising. We need to listen and need to have voices like Jerkins’. In many ways, I think Twitter and Facebook have made the knee jerk reaction easier and far more dangerous. True conversation means listening to unpleasant and hard truths (whether an individual’s truth or the truth – is there even THE Truth?). Whatever I think about what Jerkins is saying, I have no doubt that she is speaking her truth and should be listened to because her experience is just as valuable and important as mine, as yours, as Clinton’s, as even Ivanka’s (yeah, I know, me too).
This doesn’t mean that I am blind to the book’s faults. Jerkins does go off on some strange digressions. She wanders at points, and her progression in some of the essays could be far, far tighter. I’m also reading Gabrielle Union’s We’re Going to Need More Wine, and Union does consistently what I wish Jerkins had done more – introspection. For instance, when Jerkins is relating about her watching of porn, there are so many other themes that could have been touched on – to porn actors connection to abuse, to a society that is designed to make one group of women take joy in the degradation of another (I have no doubt that there are nonblack women who watch/watched the same material that Jerkins did, just different races). I found myself thinking how Union, Gay, or Robinson might have done better. In some of the essays, this lack of connection or whatever, makes the essay weaker and digressions more annoying.
Yet, at least half the essays are stand outs. Her “How to Be Docile” and “How to Survive” should be in every composition and woman’s studies class. Period. They are that good furthermore. Furthermore, her “The Stranger at the Carnival” is just, quite frankly, a masterpiece. Two sections of Malcolm X’s Autobiography tend to appear in composition readers – his learning to read in prison and his first conk. Usually the conk selection is paired with Gates’ essay about his mother’s kitchen and the importance of the kitchen in the family. But after reading Jerkins’, her essay should be paired with it because not only is hers a more recent presentation of the issue, but because she is a woman and raises other points. Quite frankly, it is even better than Phoebe Robinson’s You Can’t Touch My Hair.
Conflicted about this book I might be, but I am glad I read it. You should read it too. You need to read it.
Disclaimer: I am a white woman. Additionally, I teach students who come from the same places in New Jersey that Jerkins cites in this book. I am trying not to center myself in the narrative, but the first paragraph of the review is in part a gut reaction, so please bear with me.
I am conflicted about this book. The thing that Jerkins does and does is generalize. These sweeping generalizations are off putting. I’m not even talking about the whole voting for Trump thing. A high percentage of white woman voted for Trump, and these are the women she speaks about there (the grammar backs this up, so if someone is complaining about that, that's misguided to put it nicely). No, I’m talking about like in her discussion of the French film Girlhood. I remember the discussion and reaction to that movie. While Jerkins' take on the film is overall interesting, she makes it sound like Black women all across the global are exactly alike. Look, I’m not a black woman, so maybe, for all I know, this is true. But I would imagine that recent immigrants to France who come from Africa also have a whole set of issues that are not related to being slaves in America – connected to the slave trade and colonialism, yes - and are different than an African-American woman from whereever USA. She does the same when she talks about white girls at her school, and how they never had to deal with being assaulted, harassed or molested sexually because their whiteness protected them. In fact, the one time she does mention harassment towards a woman who at the very least presents as white, she is almost dismissive of it. I’m not disregarding or ignorant to misogynoir that exists, and it is far easier to be female and white. However, I teach students (white, black, Asian, and Native American, some of whom present white, so I doubt another sweeping generalization Jerkins makes), and I know that the number of all-female students who have been sexually molested or harassed (or raped) by their lower and secondary school’s peers (as I have been) is great. In fact, it is a rarity to have a class where a female student hasn’t been (and the classes have far more ladies than gentlemen). I found the dismissal and generalization hard, perhaps cruel.
But that’s the point isn’t it? The world has been belittling or simply out right ignoring the pain of black women and girls for hundreds of years. This is what Jerkins is talking about. She’s showing the reader here a bit of it, whether Jenkins intended to do so or not.
What’s the term? Checking my privilege? Humbling?
It’s why I am conflicted about this book. Feminism should be intersectional. To be so, we need to listen to everyone, talk, and listen without judgement or hackle raising. We need to listen and need to have voices like Jerkins’. In many ways, I think Twitter and Facebook have made the knee jerk reaction easier and far more dangerous. True conversation means listening to unpleasant and hard truths (whether an individual’s truth or the truth – is there even THE Truth?). Whatever I think about what Jerkins is saying, I have no doubt that she is speaking her truth and should be listened to because her experience is just as valuable and important as mine, as yours, as Clinton’s, as even Ivanka’s (yeah, I know, me too).
This doesn’t mean that I am blind to the book’s faults. Jerkins does go off on some strange digressions. She wanders at points, and her progression in some of the essays could be far, far tighter. I’m also reading Gabrielle Union’s We’re Going to Need More Wine, and Union does consistently what I wish Jerkins had done more – introspection. For instance, when Jerkins is relating about her watching of porn, there are so many other themes that could have been touched on – to porn actors connection to abuse, to a society that is designed to make one group of women take joy in the degradation of another (I have no doubt that there are nonblack women who watch/watched the same material that Jerkins did, just different races). I found myself thinking how Union, Gay, or Robinson might have done better. In some of the essays, this lack of connection or whatever, makes the essay weaker and digressions more annoying.
Yet, at least half the essays are stand outs. Her “How to Be Docile” and “How to Survive” should be in every composition and woman’s studies class. Period. They are that good furthermore. Furthermore, her “The Stranger at the Carnival” is just, quite frankly, a masterpiece. Two sections of Malcolm X’s Autobiography tend to appear in composition readers – his learning to read in prison and his first conk. Usually the conk selection is paired with Gates’ essay about his mother’s kitchen and the importance of the kitchen in the family. But after reading Jerkins’, her essay should be paired with it because not only is hers a more recent presentation of the issue, but because she is a woman and raises other points. Quite frankly, it is even better than Phoebe Robinson’s You Can’t Touch My Hair.
Conflicted about this book I might be, but I am glad I read it. You should read it too. You need to read it.
I knew this book would cause me to stretch and be uncomfortable but I was surprised how difficult it was to get through the text. There were a couple of essays that I struggled with because they were so personal about subjects I either think are not that significant or are far t0o personal to share in a book. But the hardest part to deal with was the constant reminding that no matter how hard I try, because of my color, I have no hope of understanding Jerkins' situation.
In one essay - Who will Write us? - Jerkins states "We cannot come together if we do not recognize our differences first. These differences are best articulated when women of color occupy the center of the discourse while white women remain silent, actively listen, and do not try to reinforce supremacy by inserting themselves into the middle of the discussion." It seems to me that there can't be a discussion unless both sides speak and listen. What am I missing?
In another - How to Survive: A Manifesto on Paranoia and Peace - she writes "When a non-black person is complimenting you on your eloquence and presentability only because you adhere to the norm, this is not a compliment at all but a salute to white supremacy. ... You are being complimented because people do not expect that from you." I find it difficult to read these generalizations when she's attempting to break down the generalizations - stereotypes - of black women.
I know I have a long way to go when it comes to understanding, appreciating and truly connecting with people of different cultures. Reading this text leads me to believe I have little hope of getting there, and maybe I'm not even welcomed.
But I don't really believe that.
In one essay - Who will Write us? - Jerkins states "We cannot come together if we do not recognize our differences first. These differences are best articulated when women of color occupy the center of the discourse while white women remain silent, actively listen, and do not try to reinforce supremacy by inserting themselves into the middle of the discussion." It seems to me that there can't be a discussion unless both sides speak and listen. What am I missing?
In another - How to Survive: A Manifesto on Paranoia and Peace - she writes "When a non-black person is complimenting you on your eloquence and presentability only because you adhere to the norm, this is not a compliment at all but a salute to white supremacy. ... You are being complimented because people do not expect that from you." I find it difficult to read these generalizations when she's attempting to break down the generalizations - stereotypes - of black women.
I know I have a long way to go when it comes to understanding, appreciating and truly connecting with people of different cultures. Reading this text leads me to believe I have little hope of getting there, and maybe I'm not even welcomed.
But I don't really believe that.
This is raw, uncompromising, often uncomfortable and yet beautiful and important. The writing is crisp and powerful and challenges you to examine yourself and your own perceptions. This is totally grounded in her experience as a black woman and is explicit about this. I wanted to consciously expand who I read this year, specifically to read more books from women of colour and I am really grateful I came across this one.
challenging
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
This book addressed so many important experiences about being black and female in America, and I was deeply engaged. However, the author seemed young and way too navel-gazing and shock over sharing for me, ala Lena Dunham. Instead of coming away thinking more deeply about big issues, I found myself remembering VERY personal details of this woman’s life that I’d actually care not to remember. Weirdly I very much enjoyed reading this book, which is why I was frustrated by how it could have been much more powerful.