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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
Powerful, needed, vulnerable - a voice more people should read.
Just finished this read. Jenkins traverses the personal and political in powerful ways. Owning her privilege and exploring multiple oppressions, This Will Be My Undoing is an important personal narrative.
It was alright. There are a few things Morgan and I agree on, but a few things that didn't really vibe with me. But her talent is unquestionable.
Morgan Jerkins is an important new voice in American feminism, someone whose essays and tweets have often made me think critically about current events and culture. In her first book, "This Will Be My Undoing," Jerkins reflects on topics ranging from her experiences as a black woman at Princeton to Beyoncé's "Lemonade" and the French film "Girlhood." The best essays in this collection are fantastic, really essential reading. Other sections are disjointed, an odd mix of personal reflection and the kind of prose you expect in a term paper. In a word, I'd describe the book as uneven.
Will definitely be reading more of her work in the future
emotional
reflective
fast-paced
I loved the story telling and the writing! Also I love a good memoir in general.
In this remarkable memoir, Morgan Jerkins narrates her journey from being a young Black girl who desperately desires to be white and to merit male attention to being a badass Black feminist who is at home in her own skin. In a manner that epitomizes intersectionality at its best, Jerkins utilizes her positionality as a Black woman to illuminate the ways in which sexism and racism intersect to impact the lives of Black women on a quotidian basis, not just in the US but across the globe. Her middle-class upbringing, Ivy League education, and global experiences provide a unique lens through which to view how privilege and oppression coexist in complex ways for Black women and girls. Jerkins manages to combine astute analysis of critical race and gender studies with highly transparent reflections upon her own experiences. She bravely delves into details about female body image, health, and sexuality that few writers would. At times, I must admit it was too much for some of my southern Protestant impulses. But Jerkins’ sharing is neither narcissistic nor a tool meant only to shock readers. Her descriptions of her embodied experience are always connected to larger social issues, demonstrating how the personal and the political collide in deeply intimate ways.
Jerkins’ narrative deserves every bit of the accolades (and more) that have been given to Ta-Nehisi Coates’ “Between the World and Me.” Indeed, the two are excellent companions to read together.
Jerkins’ narrative deserves every bit of the accolades (and more) that have been given to Ta-Nehisi Coates’ “Between the World and Me.” Indeed, the two are excellent companions to read together.
I wanted so much to like this book, but halfway through it I got tired of her constant insecurities, her obsession with getting married by age 22, and her needing male approval for her self esteem. I have read quite a few autobiographies by diverse writers of all ethnic backgrounds, and she is by far the most bitter and hateful I have encountered. As much as I tried, I just could not find her relatable because of the constant negativity in this story. And it's not because I expect black and brown women to be complacent and placating. It's a result of the fact she complained throughout the entire book and it was tedious to read.
I acknowledge the existence of white privilege and the legitimate outrage people of color have against white people, but I was turned off by this author's verbosity from her jealousy of white women. The point of her book does not seem to be education and allyship, but a venting of wrongs without humor or humanity. I found her obsessive need to be validated in a committed relationship while claiming to espouse feminist independence annoying. She really lost me with her writing about her odd habit of masturbating in her mother's home after college, in the bedroom she shared with her sister, watching violent porn involving the actual abuse and torture of white women. The author stated she did a lot of dating but always felt that there was something wrong with her because men of all colors did not seem to find her appealing. She attributed this to her outspoken nature as a strong assertive black woman, but I straight up wondered if she has sociopathic tendencies given her religious beliefs oppressing her sexual desires when coupled with her obsession with being "good enough" for white men.
It's not all bad, however. I admired her vulnerability and honesty, as well as the intimacy in the relationship that she had with her mother (to the extent, apparently, that she could talk to her about having dream-related orgasms and her mother buying her a vibrator). I believe her stating that her lived experience is that black women are perceived as untamable unruly creatures with insatiable sex drives. Despite this, I found that the book lacked focus and the author would frequently switch from one subject to another without a transition in thought. In the middle of her story, there was suddenly a letter written to Michelle Obama without any context. I found so many things like this with this book that irritated me. I wanted to finish it, and to possibly find out how she resolved these conflicts, but there really was no resolution or wisdom from her experiences. In the end, as much as I am anti-racist and want to hear diverse black voices, this author's vitriol directed toward all white people just became too much for me to bear. She completely missed the point that just as all black people are not bad, neither are all white people. All white women have not co-opted feminism, and all white people did not vote for Trump. The painting of the white race with such a broad brush offends me. I tried, but I gave up. And I never give up on books like this.
I acknowledge the existence of white privilege and the legitimate outrage people of color have against white people, but I was turned off by this author's verbosity from her jealousy of white women. The point of her book does not seem to be education and allyship, but a venting of wrongs without humor or humanity. I found her obsessive need to be validated in a committed relationship while claiming to espouse feminist independence annoying. She really lost me with her writing about her odd habit of masturbating in her mother's home after college, in the bedroom she shared with her sister, watching violent porn involving the actual abuse and torture of white women. The author stated she did a lot of dating but always felt that there was something wrong with her because men of all colors did not seem to find her appealing. She attributed this to her outspoken nature as a strong assertive black woman, but I straight up wondered if she has sociopathic tendencies given her religious beliefs oppressing her sexual desires when coupled with her obsession with being "good enough" for white men.
It's not all bad, however. I admired her vulnerability and honesty, as well as the intimacy in the relationship that she had with her mother (to the extent, apparently, that she could talk to her about having dream-related orgasms and her mother buying her a vibrator). I believe her stating that her lived experience is that black women are perceived as untamable unruly creatures with insatiable sex drives. Despite this, I found that the book lacked focus and the author would frequently switch from one subject to another without a transition in thought. In the middle of her story, there was suddenly a letter written to Michelle Obama without any context. I found so many things like this with this book that irritated me. I wanted to finish it, and to possibly find out how she resolved these conflicts, but there really was no resolution or wisdom from her experiences. In the end, as much as I am anti-racist and want to hear diverse black voices, this author's vitriol directed toward all white people just became too much for me to bear. She completely missed the point that just as all black people are not bad, neither are all white people. All white women have not co-opted feminism, and all white people did not vote for Trump. The painting of the white race with such a broad brush offends me. I tried, but I gave up. And I never give up on books like this.
This book gutted me, but in a beautiful way. Everyone should read this, but especially white women who consider themselves feminists. Highly recommended.