Take a photo of a barcode or cover
%20America.jpg)
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
I really loved Morgan Jerkins’ book of essays, which is largely made up of a good amount of her published articles spanning a really cool landscape of publishing (anything from the New Yorker to Buzzfeed). She maps what it means to move from black girlhood to black womanhood, and how that transition is so often accompanied by traumatic confrontations at the intersection of sexism and racism. Her topic range is just remarkably diverse and insightful, at one point talking about misogynoir, “the hatred toward black women specifically manifested through American visual and popular culture,” and then later on talking about her feminist internal battle with making the medical decision to have a labiaplasty. At times she widens her scope to include anthropological study of a certain subject that frames her response (like the history of black hair, and the origins of black humor and dance as a force of resistance). This was by far one of my favorite collections this year, and I would recommend this to anyone interested in great cultural writing and what it means to be a millennial black woman today.
I found out about this book in an article about anticipated 2018 releases. This was actually one of the top books being released in 2018 that I was excited about. I guess I could have been disappointed more, but nonetheless, it was still a crushing disappointment. There is plenty in here that is still good, strong points being made, etc. But overall, I was dissatisfied with the results.
I entirely blame the section, A Hunger for Men’s Eyes. This is basically an essay where she complains about her unsuccessful dating life. There are many things within this essay that seem irrelevant to the intersection of black, female, and feminist. She just comes off as shy, with low self-esteem, and committed to her virginity (which is fine, but I can’t say that it’s surprising or dastardly to hear that other young people are interested in fooling around before marriage). All of this is just whatever though, then she gets on the subject of her porn habits. Let's just say if this was written by a man, feminist everywhere would be advocating to boycott this book. She writes about the kind of porn that elicits the most intense orgasms: violence. Specifically violence directed towards white women.
“The more painful her moans sounded, the better.” ….the fuck? Wait! There is more. I cannot. make. this. shit. up:
“I relished multiple men pulling on all her limbs, using them to pleasure their penises. I wanted them to take her all at once. I wanted her to be completely overwhelmed, pushed towards the precipice between ecstasy and death. As long as the men didn’t turn me off by calling her a bitch or a slut as they rammed inside of her, I was satisfied when they put their hands around her neck or slapped the side of her face. I wanted to hear and see the slaps, the red marks on her body, and the disheveled hair. The more force, the better. I am almost at a loss for words for how consuming these orgasms were” (85).
She acknowledges later, that she does not like to watch ebony porn, because she feels like people who watch it are dehumanizing and objectifying these women, conceding that it's what she is also doing when watching. Ya think? Then she just moves right along. Like, you think you can talk about how much you love watching the brutalization of women, acknowledge it, and move on like there is nothing wrong with that? Okay.
I did appreciate a point she makes in the section "Human, Not Black" when she mentions a mentor of sorts (white) who invites her to dinner with her family. An old uncle starts throwing questions her way about why does she identify as "black" and not "human"? He also tries giving her some ignorant compliments, that aren't real compliments. She does her best to explain to this man. She later laments that her mentor doesn't speak up (she does later apologize for her uncle). She does say she wishes she would have jumped in, while acknowledging the fact that she isn't really sure if she would have liked her to speak up, on behalf of an experience that wasn't hers (being black). However, she makes a point that I try to remember, especially in these politically divisive times, where family members can be at polar opposite ends of the political spectrum.
When speaking to the avoidance of having difficult conversations with families, because it may just end in stale mates, disagreements, etc., she says,"Accepting this is a resignation and an act of self-preservation in order to retain out peace and sanity by not expending intellectual and emotional labor on those who haven’t asked for it." I do believe that there is a way to still have these conversations, without beginning a family feud. And I believe it is important for family to hear counterpoints from people the love and respect. Especially if minds refuse to change in every other conversation, who else will have the opportunity to open minds? (~185)
Anywho, read if you will. But personally, I have little to no tolerance for the fetishizing of violence against women. Not my style.
I entirely blame the section, A Hunger for Men’s Eyes. This is basically an essay where she complains about her unsuccessful dating life. There are many things within this essay that seem irrelevant to the intersection of black, female, and feminist. She just comes off as shy, with low self-esteem, and committed to her virginity (which is fine, but I can’t say that it’s surprising or dastardly to hear that other young people are interested in fooling around before marriage). All of this is just whatever though, then she gets on the subject of her porn habits. Let's just say if this was written by a man, feminist everywhere would be advocating to boycott this book. She writes about the kind of porn that elicits the most intense orgasms: violence. Specifically violence directed towards white women.
“The more painful her moans sounded, the better.” ….the fuck? Wait! There is more. I cannot. make. this. shit. up:
“I relished multiple men pulling on all her limbs, using them to pleasure their penises. I wanted them to take her all at once. I wanted her to be completely overwhelmed, pushed towards the precipice between ecstasy and death. As long as the men didn’t turn me off by calling her a bitch or a slut as they rammed inside of her, I was satisfied when they put their hands around her neck or slapped the side of her face. I wanted to hear and see the slaps, the red marks on her body, and the disheveled hair. The more force, the better. I am almost at a loss for words for how consuming these orgasms were” (85).
She acknowledges later, that she does not like to watch ebony porn, because she feels like people who watch it are dehumanizing and objectifying these women, conceding that it's what she is also doing when watching. Ya think? Then she just moves right along. Like, you think you can talk about how much you love watching the brutalization of women, acknowledge it, and move on like there is nothing wrong with that? Okay.
I did appreciate a point she makes in the section "Human, Not Black" when she mentions a mentor of sorts (white) who invites her to dinner with her family. An old uncle starts throwing questions her way about why does she identify as "black" and not "human"? He also tries giving her some ignorant compliments, that aren't real compliments. She does her best to explain to this man. She later laments that her mentor doesn't speak up (she does later apologize for her uncle). She does say she wishes she would have jumped in, while acknowledging the fact that she isn't really sure if she would have liked her to speak up, on behalf of an experience that wasn't hers (being black). However, she makes a point that I try to remember, especially in these politically divisive times, where family members can be at polar opposite ends of the political spectrum.
When speaking to the avoidance of having difficult conversations with families, because it may just end in stale mates, disagreements, etc., she says,"Accepting this is a resignation and an act of self-preservation in order to retain out peace and sanity by not expending intellectual and emotional labor on those who haven’t asked for it." I do believe that there is a way to still have these conversations, without beginning a family feud. And I believe it is important for family to hear counterpoints from people the love and respect. Especially if minds refuse to change in every other conversation, who else will have the opportunity to open minds? (~185)
Anywho, read if you will. But personally, I have little to no tolerance for the fetishizing of violence against women. Not my style.
Jerkins’ essays are on the strongest footing when she’s describing her personal experiences and trying to make sense of them as a Black woman living in a culture dominated by whiteness.
When discussing her broad views on trends and attitudes, her arguments didn’t seem especially well fleshed out. They could have been much stronger with the help of an editor who pushed her to refine them and provide more factual basis for her contentions. I wanted to hang with her, but often found myself wondering how we got from point A to point B. This may be a function of age. Even the wisest 20-something often doesn’t have the perspective about life, experiences, and her relationship to complex situations that she’ll have 20 years later.
One of the strongest essays, “Who Will Write Us?,” examines the question of who is and who should be telling the stories of Black girls and women. She successfully argues there is nuance, subtlety, intelligence, and strength infused into the way Black girls and women tell their own stories that simply cannot be captured by others. Yet the same Black women often simultaneously find themselves scrutinized by other Black women for expressing their experiences and perspectives in ways that may not uphold the most ideal version of Black womanhood. The scarcity of their own voices in all forms of media creates an undue, impossible pressure to be everything to all Black girls and women.
Jerkins sometimes relies on stereotypes in drawing conclusions about what it means to be Black in ways that presuppose blackness is a monolith. This seems to undermine the assertions she makes elsewhere that while white culture treats blackness, all blackness, with hostility, in actual fact being black characterizes a much wider range of abilities, strengths, and experiences than whiteness would lead us to believe. Her lived experiences are certainly valid, but not necessarily indicative of the vast majority of Black women. As she says in Chapter 9, “Blackness is a kaleidoscope where, if you look closely, you will see many colorful patterns within the many reflections in the mirror. There is no one way to be black.” I wish this point had been emphasized more and contradicted less.
Ultimately, I wish Jerkins had stuck to describing and contextualizing her lived experiences because those essays are mostly fascinating and revelatory. Some of her attempts at broader conclusions fell flat. Disappointingly, there is so much unfulfilled potential here. Still, there’s more than enough solid material to make it well worth reading. I hope to see her writing evolve in her next book.
When discussing her broad views on trends and attitudes, her arguments didn’t seem especially well fleshed out. They could have been much stronger with the help of an editor who pushed her to refine them and provide more factual basis for her contentions. I wanted to hang with her, but often found myself wondering how we got from point A to point B. This may be a function of age. Even the wisest 20-something often doesn’t have the perspective about life, experiences, and her relationship to complex situations that she’ll have 20 years later.
One of the strongest essays, “Who Will Write Us?,” examines the question of who is and who should be telling the stories of Black girls and women. She successfully argues there is nuance, subtlety, intelligence, and strength infused into the way Black girls and women tell their own stories that simply cannot be captured by others. Yet the same Black women often simultaneously find themselves scrutinized by other Black women for expressing their experiences and perspectives in ways that may not uphold the most ideal version of Black womanhood. The scarcity of their own voices in all forms of media creates an undue, impossible pressure to be everything to all Black girls and women.
Jerkins sometimes relies on stereotypes in drawing conclusions about what it means to be Black in ways that presuppose blackness is a monolith. This seems to undermine the assertions she makes elsewhere that while white culture treats blackness, all blackness, with hostility, in actual fact being black characterizes a much wider range of abilities, strengths, and experiences than whiteness would lead us to believe. Her lived experiences are certainly valid, but not necessarily indicative of the vast majority of Black women. As she says in Chapter 9, “Blackness is a kaleidoscope where, if you look closely, you will see many colorful patterns within the many reflections in the mirror. There is no one way to be black.” I wish this point had been emphasized more and contradicted less.
Ultimately, I wish Jerkins had stuck to describing and contextualizing her lived experiences because those essays are mostly fascinating and revelatory. Some of her attempts at broader conclusions fell flat. Disappointingly, there is so much unfulfilled potential here. Still, there’s more than enough solid material to make it well worth reading. I hope to see her writing evolve in her next book.
So check this out....
I've read Bell Hooks. I've read Roxanne Gay. I've read PHC. I've read Audre Lorde- and I adore them all..... but this book right here??? This was the book that made me fall in love with essays and writings about feminism/ womanism. This was the book that made me want to learn more about feminism/ womanism and where I stand on the spectrum. It was highly engaging and relatable.
I've read Bell Hooks. I've read Roxanne Gay. I've read PHC. I've read Audre Lorde- and I adore them all..... but this book right here??? This was the book that made me fall in love with essays and writings about feminism/ womanism. This was the book that made me want to learn more about feminism/ womanism and where I stand on the spectrum. It was highly engaging and relatable.
This is the best book I've read in a WHILE. It's raw, personal, political, thoughtful, and compelling. The author talks about being black at Princeton, about plastic surgery, about Beyonce, about humor, about cultural appropriation and storytelling. It also has some very important points to make about the differences between white culture and black culture, and how black people erasing themselves to appease white people is never going to earn them acceptance. There are a lot of salient things said here that I'm going to be quietly chewing on for a long time.
challenging
emotional
funny
informative
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
fast-paced
challenging
emotional
hopeful
reflective
medium-paced
If there is one take away from this book, it is that Jerkins doesn't waste a word on fluff and doesn't dust over her narrative with any sugar. She gives it to you straight and allows you to see the world through her eyes.
I read a lot of reviews on this that gave it a low rating because of her approach. One thing that I think gets lost in the interpretation of books that are non-fiction essay style or autobiographies is being okay with the person telling their truth. You may not agree or even like how they said it, but it's not easy for an author to let their voice and experiences float out into the world to be picked apart or cherished. I think that Jerkins did really well to speak boldly and without hesitation in her words.
I recommend listening to the audiobook. Jerkins reads it and I think with her narration it adds to the impact of her experiences.
I read a lot of reviews on this that gave it a low rating because of her approach. One thing that I think gets lost in the interpretation of books that are non-fiction essay style or autobiographies is being okay with the person telling their truth. You may not agree or even like how they said it, but it's not easy for an author to let their voice and experiences float out into the world to be picked apart or cherished. I think that Jerkins did really well to speak boldly and without hesitation in her words.
I recommend listening to the audiobook. Jerkins reads it and I think with her narration it adds to the impact of her experiences.
The last three chapters really redeemed this book because I was seriously not feeling it. Throughout, the author made really great points and touched on a lot of topics I could related to...but there were way too many moments when I was like WTF? (And not in a good way)
I love a good collection of essays, and while there are some very good threads of how the personal and political interweave this collection left me with a lot of mixed emotions. The collection is a slow burn, where the first couple of essays were difficult for me to get into, some of them really sing later on in the book. Jerkins' ability to interweave various experiences together to jump back and forth in her own timeline is the most interesting part of her writing style. I do think there is much to be gleaned from her experiences, I found myself wishing she was as introspective inward as she is clearly deft at outward. There are real feats of vulnerability in these pages, and then on the other hand sharp boundaries where the reader doesn't know how Jerkins' really reconciles her experiences with her feminism this is most clear on her topics related to class and religion. I think the gift of the book is that there is much to discuss in its pages, and it would be a great intro to women's and gender studies book to assign young people.