Bad Feminist - Book Summary

Discover your unique path to feminism

The power of feminism has surged to the forefront of global conversation, with movements like #MeToo and the Women's March gaining international recognition. Yet, it's vital to understand that feminism isn't a monolith — it's a spectrum of varying perspectives, each with its own voice.

Roxane Gay delves into what she calls the bedrock of feminism, exploring the contradictions that can arise when someone, like herself, challenges certain aspects of this traditional form. Gay presents her personal feminist brand — "bad" feminism. This concept resonates with individuals who feel they deviate from the conventional feminist ideal, yet are passionate about having their voices heard.

By the end of our journey together, you'll see why being a 'bad' feminist is a lot better than not associating with feminism at all.

As we traverse this intriguing narrative, you will discover —

— how bad reality TV can make us feel unexpectedly fulfilled,

— the reasoning behind Rolling Stone featuring a terrorist on their cover, and

— why the film The Help might not be as instrumental in promoting racial equality as it claims to be.

Be warned, however, that the discussions ahead feature strong language and include a racially offensive term, used to illustrate stereotypes within cinema.

Embracing imperfections as a "bad" feminist

Nobody's perfect — we are all prone to making mistakes, and Roxane Gay is no exception. As a feminist, she experiences the relentless weight of striving to meet every expectation attached to this title.

One of the challenges is that feminism lacks a single, concrete definition. It's a multifaceted movement, aiming to represent all women, but unfortunately, it often falls short, leaving many feeling neglected.

Traditional feminism has focused primarily on the rights of white, cisgender, heterosexual women. This form of feminism marginalizes black, transgender, and queer women by not recognizing the unique hurdles they encounter.

These cis, heterosexual white women often have a greater platform to voice their perspectives, leading to their creation of what Gay describes as essential feminism. Essential feminists perceive feminism as a selective club, with rigid rules and guidelines. Key principles include unequivocally opposing pornography and rejecting the objectification of women in all situations.

However, these essential feminists often operate from a place of privilege. Their experiences don't align with those of women who belong to additional minority or oppressed groups, like women of color or those within the LGBTQIA+ community. The insistence on their version of feminism can inadvertently alienate individuals from dissimilar backgrounds.

Moreover, it's not just women from minority groups that may feel isolated from essential feminism. Merely having a difference of opinion can be enough to make some women feel ostracized. Consider women who enjoy viewing or participating in pornography, or those who appreciate particular elements of popular culture that involve the objectification of women.

Gay does not resonate with essential feminism, hence her self-identification as a 'bad' feminist. She advocates for equality between all women and men across all life areas.

She previously avoided the 'feminist' label, understanding why many women are reluctant to claim it. The term 'feminist' is closely associated with essential feminism, evoking images of women who use the feminist movement as a branding strategy. However, Gay has come to terms with her imperfect feminism. She acknowledges that she can't please everyone — her divergent beliefs and actions from essential feminism make her form of feminism a significant part of the broader discourse. In her words, being a bad feminist is far better than not embracing feminism at all.

The portrayal of women in reality TV is far from realistic

'Reality television' can be a somewhat deceptive phrase. It doesn't accurately represent reality but rather offers a distorted version of it. Similarly, the depiction of women in reality shows often reflects exaggerated, unattainable stereotypes rather than genuine, multifaceted individuals.

Some cliched perceptions persist: women obsessed with their weight, desperate for romantic love and marriage, and incapable of forming genuine friendships with other women due to jealousy. Reality TV does nothing to combat these stereotypes, often amplifying them instead.

Characters on these shows are rarely depicted as complex, well-rounded individuals, but rather as overblown cliches. When presented as 'real,' it simply fortifies the misconception that women can be neatly categorized into a few basic stereotypes.

Take dating game shows like Rock of Love and Flavor of Love as examples. These programs portray women at odds with each other, locked in ruthless competition for a man's attention and approval. The man at the center often shows little genuine interest in these women, offering shallow platitudes about love to the camera.

The disregard for the women becomes starkly apparent in Flavor of Love. The show revolves around winning the affection of Flavor Flav, a member of the hip-hop group Public Enemy. Instead of learning the women's actual names, Flav assigns them nicknames, further diminishing their humanity. If you're in any doubt about these shows' objectification, consider that Flavor Flav dubbed two of the contestants "Thing 1" and "Thing 2."

The depiction of women as caricatures invites the audience to mock and criticize them, ultimately making for more engaging television. Reality shows often bring out the worst in the participants, and the more outrageous their behavior, the more entertaining it is for viewers. The appeal lies in watching others make 'poor' decisions, thus enabling us to feel superior about our own lives. However, when these over-the-top characters permeate our screens, it normalizes harmful behaviors and standards, impeding women's progress towards equality.

This criticism also extends to makeover shows and reality TV focusing on physical appearance. Displays of surgically enhanced or painstakingly sculpted bodies may be visually engaging and appealing to superficial observers, but they disregard the women's inner experiences.

These superficial shows neglect the wisdom and life experiences that women bring to the table, reinforcing superficial standards and undermining the advancement of gender equality.

The troubling normalization of sexual violence against women

Rape is a brutal crime, causing physical and emotional trauma to the victims. Regrettably, numerous television shows exploit rape narratives for dramatic effect and to boost ratings.

Certain shows almost solely rely on narratives centered around sexual violence against women. Consider the example of the TV series Law and Order: SVU. It has portrayed countless rape-related storylines, with each successive episode attempting to outdo the last, introducing increasingly horrific details to keep viewers hooked. As a result, an audience seeing a man forcefully penetrating a woman becomes less shocking. With viewers bombarded by storylines showing victims who are disfigured, battered, and subjected to numerous brutal ordeals, a 'simple' rape seems less severe. The bar for invoking viewer disgust keeps rising, thanks to an audience desensitized by an overabundance of rape narratives.

Tragically, rape isn't confined to fictional narratives. Sexual violence against women is so endemic in our society that it has earned its own terminology — rape culture. Women have unfortunately come to anticipate the likelihood of sexual assault.

Part of the blame lies with the entertainment industry, with its persistent and glamorized portrayal of rape, which in turn fuels real-life rape culture.

The news media further perpetuates rape culture through its coverage of such incidents. An example is a 2011 New York Times article about an eleven-year-old girl raped by 18 men. The report centered on the devastation to the men's lives and the community's turmoil. The victim was barely mentioned, aside from a remark about her appearing older than her actual age.

Political discourse isn't immune from contributing to rape culture either, as exemplified by former Republican Congressman Todd Akin's notorious term "legitimate rape." During a discussion about abortion rights, Akin suggested that a woman's body would reject a pregnancy resulting from "legitimate rape" — a baseless assertion that is not only scientifically incorrect but deeply problematic. There is no such thing as 'illegitimate' rape — rape is rape. We must unequivocally assert this fact to everyone to challenge and ultimately dismantle rape culture.

'The Help' contributes to racial inequality rather than helping it.

In 2011, audiences flocked to theaters to see 'The Help,' a film set in segregated 1960s Mississippi, telling the story of African-American maids serving affluent white families. Although critics hailed the movie, and audiences loved it, it fell short of advancing racial equality, even inadvertently promoting harmful stereotypes.

Two significant stereotypes manifest in the film: the 'magical negro' and the 'white savior narrative.' The magical negro character is an altruistic, wise, somewhat mystical African-American character whose sole purpose is to assist the white protagonist — never to advance their interests. This stereotype often appeals to white audiences due to its positive representation of an African-American character. However, they may overlook that this character lacks depth and primarily functions to further the white protagonist's ambitions.

Characters like Aibileen, Minny, and the other maids embody this 'magical negro' trope in 'The Help.' Despite being resilient characters, their primary role is to elevate and enlighten the white characters, rather than improving their circumstances.

The film heavily relies on the 'white savior narrative,' presenting African-American characters as helpless and dependent on the benevolence of white characters. A scene that clearly exemplifies this trope is when Aibileen, a black maid, places a picture of John F. Kennedy on her wall following his attendance at civil rights activist Medgar Evers' funeral. Instead of choosing Evers or any other African-American civil rights activist, she opts for JFK and places his image next to a photo of her son and an image of white Jesus.

The film is also laden with other racial stereotypes. For instance, Minny the maid remarks, "frying chicken tend to make me feel better about life," a strikingly stereotypical comment that somehow went unnoticed in a twenty-first-century book and film adaptation.

'The Help' is one of many films guilty of presenting African-American characters as flat and stereotypical rather than as nuanced, three-dimensional people. This practice perpetuates the misguided notion that real African-American people are simply living stereotypes, as depicted in films. It misuses the civil rights movement for entertainment, unfortunately promoting racial inequality rather than combating it.

Persistent systemic sexism and racism towards African Americans plague the United States.

Mass shootings have sadly become commonplace in the United States. More Americans have perished in these random bursts of violence than due to attacks from radicalized terrorists. Yet, when white men carry out such violent actions, their acts are never deemed terrorism.

Alarmingly, society seems quick to humanize a white male perpetrator, extending empathy and digging into his background. Conversely, innocent black individuals are often hastily branded as troublemakers.

Take, for instance, the coverage by Rolling Stone magazine following the Boston Marathon bombings. They gave the perpetrator, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, a young white man, cover space, focusing on his 'boy next door' image. The accompanying story painted a sympathetic portrait, engaging people who knew him and digging into how he transformed from an ordinary boy into a mass murderer.

On the other hand, consider the case of Trayvon Martin, an unarmed black teenager killed by George Zimmerman, who was subsequently acquitted of all charges. Trayvon didn't get his face on a magazine cover, nor was his story told with sympathy or understanding, even though he was the victim.

At the time of his death, Trayvon was armed with nothing more than iced tea and a pack of Skittles. Yet, the narrative was twisted to fit societal biases. An illustrative example is Fox News's absurd attempt to suggest how Trayvon might have used his iced tea and Skittles as murder weapons.

Women's plight is no less troubling. Alongside racial inequality, the United States continues to grapple with gender inequality. Women's bodies are often treated as subjects of legislation, to be regulated by predominantly white male politicians. Reproductive freedom — the right to access birth control or choose an abortion — remains threatened even today, indicating that women are not considered equal to men.

As long as such inequalities persist, the struggle for rectifying them continues. Through her unique brand of feminism — queer, black, 'bad' feminism — Gay pushes this fight forward.

Wrapping it all up

Perfection is a myth in any aspect of life, and feminism is no exception. Don't hold your breath for the perfect version of feminism or strive to fit into an idealized feminist framework — embrace being a 'bad' feminist! Every voice matters. The more 'bad' feminists raise their voices, the more the feminist movement will develop and encompass diverse perspectives. By initiating discussions about the interplay of race, gender identity, and sexual orientation within the framework of feminism, we can alter our thinking — and influence the world to think differently.