Seal Press

No Excuses: Nine Ways Women Can Change How We Think About Power

beth — Tue, 22 Feb 2011 09:00:00 +0000

When I heard Gloria Feldt being interviewed on NPR, I thought I might have some problems with No Excuses, so I asked to review it and follow up with a telephone interview of Feldt. When I read the book, my first impression was confirmed. After an hour interview with Feldt, who I had met previously in Arizona, she seemed such a nice, genuine person concerned for women that I was torn about what to do with the review. I reread the book and got upset all over again. Feminism, like quarks, comes in many colors. My working class background and grassroots perspective has colored my response.

Feldt’s main theme is that the women’s movement is stuck, and it’s our own fault because we resist using the power we have. She argues that all formal laws and barriers have fallen and only social norms and self-limitation hold us back. She insists that because of the economic collapse, now is the time, because women will be tapped to clean up the mess made by men. But rather than charging forward, we are stepping back yet again.

In the interview, Feldt supported her belief that the world wants women by pointing out that management studies from Ernst and Young have found that companies with a higher percentage of women in management function more efficiently and have a higher return in the market. The World Bank analyzed the results of parliaments that have 30% or more of women and found that they make better decisions. But in counterpoint, the number of people in slavery, many of them women and many in the U.S., is higher now than it was at the height of the Black slave trade. The U.S. now has the largest gap between the rich and the poor. Poor women are driven into prostitution, domestic work, or sweatshops to feed their children.

While Feldt is clear that she is only talking about the U.S., international trends also do not support her conclusions. The just released report, The Authoritarian Challenge to Democracy: Selected Data from Freedom House’s Annual Survey of Political Rights and Civil Liberties, found that in 2010, twenty-five countries exhibited declines in freedom and only eleven showed gains. Both Mexico and Ukraine dropped from Free to Partly Free. The number of countries designated as Free dropped from eighty-nine to eighty-seven, the number of electoral democracies dropped from 116 to 115, the worst since 1995. In 2005, the number was 123. The Middle East and North Africa regions that have been the focus of democratic reform declined even further from an already low democratic baseline.

The author encourages women to make one last push for equality to get us over the finish line. But in discussion, she admitted that one final push will not solve every problem and cannot create complete equality. The 2010 election that was to be yet another “year of the woman” resulted in fewer and more conservative women in Congress. But she believes a final push will lead to greater equality and that will be a profound shift in human rights and justice.

She wrote the book because political changes and society transformations are complicated, and people do not make the connection between theory and action, laws and reality. Those dots have to be connected over and over again, so the “push” does not mean an end, but a beginning starting from a different place. The “push” does not include quotas that have been credited the world over with creating more gender balanced governing bodies. She believes that the politics are such in the U.S. that it would be an unlikely fight to win today. Since she believes that almost all of the legal barriers and many of the policy barriers have been eliminated, if women decided to seek parity, and took action, they could achieve it in ten to twenty years.

Certainly, Feldt is correct that women should redefine the use of power in a non-abusive way. Models of that approach are outlined in the book. The problems of co-optation and internal barriers are discussed. The essentials necessary to embrace her philosophy—money and control over our own bodies—are however, both in short supply. The “power tools” she sprinkles throughout the book read a bit “New Agey” until the end of the book where they are given more in-depth analysis. Many of her slogans are old wine in new bottles without attribution to earlier feminists whose shoulders she stands on. Practical methods are not mentioned such as union organizing or fighting for quotas in political parties. In the “tool section,” she encourages women to smile, but in fact, smiling is counter-indicated. In December 2010, Stanford business school professor Deborah Gruenfeld recommended that women stop all the smiling. “Women give away power all the time, by smiling or looking away when they are saying something authoritative.” In the finale, Feldt argues that to re-ignite the movement, we should be courageous sisters and support other women.

“Equal rights for the sexes will be achieved when mediocre women occupy high positions,” said Francoise Giroud (1916-2003), as quoted in the 2006 SheSource article, “The Glass Ceiling in Media: Think the glass ceiling is gone—or just an outdated metaphor? Think again” by Tekla Szymanski. Women have to perform to be promoted; men only have to have potential and connections. The article outlines the dismal state of women in commercial media. Even in media that focus mainly on “women’s issues,” only 28% of the publishers and 50% of the executive and senior editors are female.

In that article, Feldt is quoted, “One reason the glass ceiling remains strong in broadcast and newspapers is media consolidation, which squeezes out positions at the top and in mid-management, where women might have been in the pipeline to advance...When resources are scarce, the old boys' network closes ranks and chooses leaders it feels most comfortable with—those most like themselves.” This statement is counter to her argument in the book that there is no glass ceiling, only a sticky floor.

Gail Evans, CNN’s first female executive vice president is quoted in the same article saying that women need to learn to play the game, and that we buy into the same stereotypes: “Women take care—and men take charge. Women have to start supporting each other. Their success is connected. Women think it’s all about “I can do it.” They think that, “if I try hard, it’ll change.” We have to go from “I can do it,” which gives isolated success to, “We can do it.””

I’m left confused. On the one hand, we are told (and Feldt says in the book) that women need to stop putting everyone else first. On the other hand, we are told that women tend to go it alone and should support their sisters. On one hand, we are told that women managers do better because we are more collaborative, but on the other hand, we are told that women think in terms of I not we. Which is it?

While I certainly agree with Feldt that women need to re-think their attitude toward power, no reason except the economic collapse explains why now is the time for women. The same people who caused the crash are still at the top in Obama’s government, at Harvard, and at Goldman Sachs. The CEO of GM that went bankrupt is now in charge of a job creation committee. The massive grassroots movement in support of Elizabeth Warren was not enough to have her appointed to the new consumer watchdog agency. Those in charge have no intention of turning over the reins. A woman warned us of the financial collapse. They didn’t listen. A woman warned us about 9/11. They didn’t listen. They may send in women to clean up their mess, but then they will send them back home again. The vicious attacks on Hillary Clinton during the primary should remind us of the fear of women that still lurks in the hearts of men.

As a lawyer, I cannot understand the claim that no laws or barriers exist. The book itself gives many examples of the laws and barriers, the facts and the acts, that still stand in our way. She acknowledges that the hardest barriers are the ones inside our head, describes her own struggles to escape the negative messages and admits that it took her well into her adult life to free herself, but yet she chastises young women as if she expects them to know so much more than we did at that age. She repeatedly disproves her own statements and doesn’t seem to notice.

As a long-time advocate for battered women, I was especially troubled by a description of the domineering, coercive, and controlling behavior by Claire Bloom’s husband Philip Roth that resulted in Bloom sending her daughter away. Feldt characterizes this as voluntary, which is a failure to understand the dynamics of domestic violence and coercive control. I asked about this in the interview and she answered that Claire Bloom was not a woman who needed to opt for the man over the child because she had means, talent, and networks. Coercive control happens to women who are rich and famous as much, or in some studies even more, than to women who are poor and unknown. The means, talents, or networks of women do not insulate them from male violence and control. In fact, it often means they have more to lose if they escape and keeps them locked in.

If the book is written for a specific group of women, “…for those of us who count ourselves among the lucky ones, the time for excuses is over…” I concur, because I too have little sympathy for women with money and power who turn their backs on other women. But if she meant it for all women, then I have a problem with the blaming and shaming that lies behind the words. The focus on the lucky ones should have been made clear from the beginning, otherwise the book reads a lot like blaming the victim.

Feldt both agreed and disagreed with my analysis. She agreed that the privileged women are the ones who have been able to be the leading edge in a formal way and have been able to get their message to the public. While that is commonly said, the new movie Made in Dagenham reminiscent of Norma Rae shows the tremendous impact made by working class women.

The author did have certain expectations that the book would resonate with our generation (we are about the same age) and the young feminists, but did not expect it to resonate as well as it has with the entrepreneurs who often don’t belong to any formal groups and wouldn’t call themselves feminists or with the young women who are the first in their family to graduate from high school or college. In the first six months since the release of the book, she believes it has resonated with the lower SES group and the acceptance of the message has been a great joy to her. One thing is clear, women need to be leaders. The leader, according to Feldt, is not necessarily the CEO but the person who gets things done.

The author had planned to write another book about women’s relationship with sex, but the unexpected success of this book has derailed that for a while. The book has taken on an unanticipated life. It’s being used in women’s studies, seminars, and she’s been asked to do a webinar. So for the short term, she’ll be working with the themes of the book perhaps putting her nine power tools into specific workshop formats to concretize them, which would be useful. On her bucket list, she has many more books to write and steps to take into women’s future of equality.

Written by: Dianne Post, February 22nd 2011

Reality Bites Back: The Troubling Truth about Guilty Pleasure TV

beth — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 20:00:00 +0000

By Jennifer L. Pozner

Seal Press

Reality TV has infiltrated the media to such an extreme extent that it is increasingly difficult to escape its reach. Even those of us who consider ourselves media literate and savvy in our consumption of television have to admit to watching the occasional episode of Project Runway, America’s Next Top Model, or The Real Housewives of New Jersey. They’re our guilty pleasures; the kind of TV we watch while wearing a Snuggie and eating a bowlful (or two) of Ben and Jerry’s. We don’t always readily admit to watching these shows, and when we do come clean, we insist it’s for the absurdity of it all and that we’re quite aware of effects of this kind of TV.

Jennifer Pozner warns us of this type of complacent thinking in Reality Bites Back and backs it up with compelling examples pulled straight from our TVs. Toddlers are glam-ified and paraded around in Toddlers and Tiaras to meet the beauty standards put forth by Tyra Banks in America’s Next Top Model. Sometimes women need help to meet these standards, and thanks to The Swan, they can achieve them and go on to be evaluated once again by a panel of judges. Shows like Flavor of Love and The Bachelor depict women as catty, bitchy, and willing to do whatever it takes to win the affections of a man (as long as he’s wealthy). Non-Caucasian women see that they are expected to act and are portrayed as stereotypes, whether that be a saucy, va-va-voom Latina or a meek, obedient China doll.

Are we aware of all of this? Yes, to a certain extent. But we are not immune to it and Pozner points out the consequences in such clear detail that it’s impossible not to feel a bit guilty. However, Pozner does not seek to shame us into not watching reality TV, but rather to help effect change through widespread media literacy and campaigns to make TV more responsible for their programming and the messages they send. The last chapter ends on this note and includes the input of various educators and activists on how to accomplish this goal. In the end, Pozner manages to heavily critique reality TV without denigrating those of us who watch it. Her tone makes the message palatable, and she successfully gets the point across with her vast amount of knowledge and research.

Written by: Shana Mattson, January 3rd 2011

Click: When We Knew We Were Feminists

admin — Sat, 12 Jun 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Courtney E. Martin, J. Courtney Sullivan

Seal Press

Seeking inspiration for a novel she was writing a few years ago, J. Courtney Sullivan sent an email to several friends asking them, “What was the moment that made you a feminist? Was there one person, event, book, or idea that made it happen?” The conversation that followed was so fruitful that she decided to keep it going, and Click: When We Knew We Were Feminists was born.

In Click, editors Courtney E. Martin and J. Courtney Sullivan present twenty-nine essays by young feminists from all walks of life with the intention “to collage together a picture of contemporary young feminists…to discover what it is that still brings a diversity of young people to try on the feminist label despite the obvious risks.” The collection they’ve compiled is inspiring, insightful, and funny in all the right places, and I had to resist the urge to shout, “Preach on!” as I read it.

The voices in Click are as strong as they are varied, and the themes that emerge—the desire to break boundaries and prove men wrong; the need to create a personal feminism that is different from our mothers’; the struggle to balance sexual empowerment with feminist strength; and the tension created by identifying as feminist and as a member of another minority group—offer something for everyone. I saw myself and every feminist I know in the pages of Click, and that speaks to how well Martin and Sullivan succeeded in fulfilling their mission with this book, even if very few of the pieces are actually about singular moments of realization.

Rather than try to sum up twenty-nine fabulous essays in what would doubtless become a super-long review, I’ll now share some of the themes and excerpts that spoke to me, just to give you a taste of what you can find. In “Not My Mother’s Hose,” Courtney E. Martin recalls meeting Jennifer Baumgardner (author of Manifesta, a book that changed my life and the lives of many others) and experiencing her “click” upon realizing that modern feminism means that women can be both smart and sexy. That fishnet stockings and high heels are just as acceptable and empowering as menswear slacks and practical shoes.

Click gave me an opportunity to think more deeply about the moments and experiences that helped me the define the feminism that I live daily, and it reminded me that women are not the only ones who suffer from constricting definitions of gender. The strict definition of masculinity is also responsible for many writers experiencing their click moments when they decided to prove the boys wrong and do something they were told they couldn’t do. For Elizabeth Chiles Shelburne, whose piece is titled “Killing in the Name Of,” it happened on her eleventh birthday, when she insisted on going hunting, an eleventh birthday tradition usually reserved for the boys in her family.

Other women in the collection write about click moments that were sparked by sports, abortion rights, and even Kurt Cobain’s death. Black and Latina feminists describe the struggle to take on the feminist label while maintaining their cultural identities and defending their choices to women who didn’t understand or agree. I appreciated something about every essay in this collection, and I relished the opportunity to spend time reflecting on my personal definition of feminism and the experiences that shaped it.

Excerpted from The Book Lady’s Blog

Written by: Rebecca Schinsky, June 12th 2010

Just Don't Call Me Ma'am: How I Ditched the South, Forgot My Manners, and Managed to Survive My Twenties with (Most of) My Dignity Still Intact

admin — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Anna Mitchael

Seal Press

Who better, I ask you, than a Yankee like me who moved to Texas to review Just Don't Call Me Ma'am, a book by a Texas-girl who moved to the East? Considering how absolutely dead-on hysterical this “survival story” was, I couldn’t be happier about how fate brought us together.

The one thing Anna Mitchael didn’t like was people calling her "ma’am." Ma’am is reserved for your grandmother – or an elderly lady that a twenty-something man is holding the door for. But ma’am is unacceptable when aimed at a woman who swears (even though the crow’s feet might say differently) that she is a spring chicken in the prime of her life.

This wonderfully humorous romp begins with Anna making her way through a myriad of places before settling in Brooklyn. Now, New York City to a Texas woman is something of a high-fashion, fast-moving, cement and glass world of cynicism, and as the author states, it wasn’t a full-on romance for her right away. NYC was an acquired taste.

From a breakup, Anna brings us back to the first time love bloomed; she was twelve years old, gazing at the neighborhood boy with the bright blue eyes who was bound to be the next All-American quarterback playing at Texas stadium. All the girls were massively in love with the young man and wanted to spend the summer trying to get him to notice them. But Anna was tempted by the one person she loved more than life to leave town that one fateful summer… her Grandma.

Grandmothers always know the right bribe to dangle, in order to get their grandchildren to come for a visit, and Anna’s was no different. She bribed her granddaughter with the soap operas that she’d taped all year long, and Anna salivated at knowing that she could spend a couple of weeks in front of the television learning all about high-fashion makeup hounds who spoke with a hoity-toity accent and slept, well, with pretty much anybody, anywhere. Unfortunately, when the two week excursion of sin was over, Anna got a call from her friend to let her know that the guy had found himself a girlfriend. Life lesson learned.

From there, the author takes us on many journeys, offering knowledge about her Southern background, such as how the summers in Texas can actually kill; Southern desserts that Yankees just don’t understand, like bourbon balls; and, being a bridesmaid two hundred times and having to wrap yourself like a horrible Christmas package in pink taffeta and pretend to cry at the “I do” part. She lets us know that you can’t spit in Texas without hitting four hundred churches, and that vegetarianism is a much frowned-upon activity in the world of meat, poultry, and that white gravy. She brings us with her as she tries to adapt to mysteries like Brazilian waxing (which is so painful that I’m sure Hitler used this on his enemies at one time); trips to Las Vegas with the girls; and other topics I met head-on when words went from “get” to “git.”

I laughed out loud as she put a Southerner in Yankee-ville. It took me back to the times when a Texan smiled at me like I was a complete moron when I said “you guys” instead of “y’all.” And when I had, without thinking, told a Southern lady that I was from New England and her response was, “Really? You don’t sound British.”

What I realized while reading Just Don't Call Me Ma'am was that the accent that may frame our words, or whether our grandmothers cooked grits or mashed potatoes, simply doesn’t matter. In the end, we’re all people who are making our way through life the best way we can—whether in the backyard of our own upbringing or setting a course for adventure and moving into an unknown world.

I applaud Mitchael and hope that, like the great Erma Bombeck, she continues her foray into the wonderful – true – world of life’s humor. And, a special note to her, my Grandma was absolutely fantastic, too. It was so nice to read a story about one of the really great ladies the world had to offer. We become much better people when we are lucky enough to have those wonderful women in our past.

Cross-posted at Book Pleasures

Written by: Amy Lignor, June 10th 2010

Motherhood and Feminism

admin — Fri, 28 May 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Amber E. Kinser

Seal Press

I doubt any role is more judged than mother. Add sexuality, class, and race into the equation and, for some of us, we will never be a "good" mother. But what are we really comparing ourselves to?

We are trying to live up to a myth. A myth of Biblical proportions that has been around for less than sixty years. Stephanie Koontz’s The Way We Never Were does an excellent job at debunking the myth of a Leave It to Beaver family and letting Donna Reed be our benchmark. Amber E. Kinser picks up that conversation and runs with it.

In Motherhood and Feminism Kinser outlines the evolution, both natural and government imposed, of the role of motherhood in American society. At the same time she is tracking the evolution of the feminist movement in the United States. Sometimes both areas collide; other times they complement each other. And that is what is fascinating about this book: how easily motherhood and the role of women in families can be shifted by outside economic pressures and government propaganda, as well as how the feminist movement often takes its cues from how motherhood is framed.

During the first wave of feminism, it was obvious that many of the women who were engaged in the fight for suffrage took a look at themselves and said, “Hey, women need the vote so we can be better citizens for our children and because women are just better people than men.” The theory that infusing women into politics would clean it up remains with us today. The fact that women could not ask for their own rights for their own sake, but rather used their children as the reason why they shouldn’t be left penniless after her husband dies, also remains with us. Consider how many mothers' organizations fight for rights on behalf of children rather than for women themselves.

In many ways the fight for women’s rights has and continues to be fought in the home. The so-called Mommy Wars are a proxy for where a woman should be in society and not about the well-being of children. It is also a proxy for who is worthy of support. (How dare that woman take government money to stay home with her children when my husband works hard and I budget so I can be home?) The backlash against mom bloggers earning money, directly or indirectly through free samples, is yet another battle over where a woman’s priorities should be: her career or her children.

Kinser makes the point over and over again that not all mothers movements are feminist, nor do they want to be. It is honestly easier to get a thousand women to rally for children’s health care than to rally for their own health care that includes access to full reproductive health services. And that’s where the gruff lives.

I've talked with feminists who wished that mothers organizations would just claim the damn label, but I get it. And yes, it usually falls to the abortion question. Kinser has one of the best rationales on why feminism must include a pro-choice stance—no ifs, ands, or buts. She also does a good job at tackling moms of color, queer moms, and low-income moms. This is not a history of white middle class feminist motherhood, although she correctly states that much of mainstream feminism and motherhood expectations are modeled on white middle class norms, and then she rips it apart.

Motherhood and Feminism is well written and documents a shared history that many moms and feminists often forget or aren't even aware of. Without moms, we wouldn't have won the right to vote. Without feminism, moms wouldn't have the rights they have today. We're like peanut butter and chocolate—and some us are peanut butter cups.

Cross-posted from Viva La Feminista

Written by: Veronica I. Arreola, May 28th 2010

Get Opinionated: A Progressive’s Guide to Finding Your Voice (and Taking a Little Action)

admin — Wed, 05 May 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Amanda Marcotte

Seal Press

A few years ago, my uncle, the family’s token conservative, sent me a copy of Dinesh D’Souza’s Letters to a Young Conservative, probably to irk my mother. Despite my inclinations, I decided to give it a try. The first chapter of Letters is masterful, beginning with a lecture D’Souza gave at Columbia University, at which he was greeted with crowds of angry, rioting, liberal students bent on silencing his conservative point of view. D’Souza recalls fighting his way through bullhorns and posters saying things about “capitalism” and “imperialism.” D'Souza presented this situation as a testament to the sorry state of modern liberalism. Although today this sequence may remind us of a Tea Party rally, the image of the crazed young liberal beating drums and waving signs is one that’s hard to shake.

I thought of D'Souza's Letters while reading a new book on modern progressivism, Get Opinionated by Amanda Marcotte, editor of Pandagon and regular contributor to RH Reality Check and Slate's Double X blog. Both are fiery calls to action from well-respected authors. Unfortunately, both are also a little light on facts and evidence.

Marcotte clearly sees her goal as motivating liberals—ostensibly young liberals—to become more politically aware and take steps in their own lives to see their ideals realized. “Consciousness raising isn’t just for identity politics,” she tells the reader, urging him or her to leave comments on blogs to foster intellectual discourse. Marcotte says that to counter anti-government histrionics from conservatives progressives need to put forth “positive, truth-based counter-arguments to raise people’s consciousness.” If only Get Opinionated practiced what it preaches.

The problem is that Marcotte isn’t arming her readers with strong arguments. Instead, Get Opinionated teaches readers that hyperbole will suffice when it comes to shaping political beliefs. If Marcotte urges her readers to go forth and debate, then she should also explain that they should be equipped with serious arguments and evidence, which some progressives aren’t.

Marcotte acknowledges that liberals often have a PR problem. Addressing the war on drugs, for example, she reminds us that stoners don’t make the best spokespersons, stressing that, instead, sensible drug policies are best fought for by someone who looks good in a suit, doesn’t smoke pot, and will discuss the social and economic ramifications of mass incarceration. But while Marcotte notes that a reasoned liberal makes a stronger case, she doesn’t always follow her own advice.

“Deep down inside, we all wish people read and thought about subjects in a little more depth,” she writes. But when it comes to offering a framework for addressing more touchy subjects, Marcotte has a harder time presenting sober, nuanced opinions. Take, for example, her discussion of terrorism. The language used in discussions about terrorism is tricky, with liberals often confusing their emotions about Bush's misadventures in Iraq with the separate issue of terrorism. Marcotte herself falls victim to the dangers of emotional rhetoric. “The most likely explanation for the unnecessary histrionics at airport security is that they’re part of the ‘frog in boiling water’ strategy of introducing a stronger police state,” she writes. Such an argument echoes the kind of wacky conspiracy theories that keep liberal opinions from being taken seriously. Perhaps Marcotte is right, but such accusations need evidence. Presented only as speculation, they are no better than Fox News claiming Barack Obama is a socialist.

Political debate should not rely on ad hominem attacks, but that good idea is frequently overshadowed by the ways in which Marcotte fires at conservatives. A great blogger, journalist, and feminist, Marcotte is just the person to demonstrate the sexist implications of social conservatism. Instead, she intimates that socially conservative men get turned on by talk of “family” and that they spend an inordinate amount of time “monitoring the status of their teenage daughters’ hymens.” These accusations are counterproductive, sidetracking the debate from the actual reasons social conservatism harms women. Marcotte risks alienating potential supporters of women’s rights by giving a distasteful comment while setting a low bar for political debate.

Marcotte is at her best when she argues that “You Don’t Have to Be a Stinky Hippie to Care about the Environment,” the name of her first chapter. She paints an enticing picture of a life in which Americans ride bikes, grow gardens, eat less meat, and save energy in myriad ways. But most liberals already accept that America needs to reduce its carbon footprint. So even though this is a strong point, it is by far the most conventional.

What Marcotte misses in her book is that liberal thought today still lacks a coherent and well-reasoned approach to national security. It’s too bad she took a reactive stance rather than the positive goal of creating a new, liberal approach. It is precisely because Marcotte repeatedly invokes the power of conversation, debate, and good information that the lack of careful reasoning in the book is so strange. Get Opinionated is clearly Marcotte’s own vision of liberalism, one that she hopes will inspire others to think and talk. However, she should demonstrate how to formulate intelligent and persuasive opinions, not just encourage her readers to get political.

“I want badly to say that reading this book means you’re already on the right path, but humility forces me to declare that it is only marginally deeper than Jon Stewart’s book featuring naked pictures of historical figures,” Marcotte says. She could argue that Get Opinionated was all in good fun, that this review is overblown because she wasn’t that serious. But publishing a book has responsibilities, especially when it purports to represent a liberal viewpoint. Marcotte is smart and could have done better. Instead, she may have accidentally given D’Souza new fodder for a second Letters.

This article was created by Campus Progress.

Written by: Pema Levy, May 5th 2010

Gringa: A Contradictory Girlhood

admin — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 01:02:00 +0000

By Melissa Hart

Seal Press

When Melissa Hart was eight years old, her mother fell in love with Patricia, the woman who drove the school bus. Soon, Hart’s mother left her husband and moved in with Patricia, taking her children with her. Within months, however, Hart learned a heart-wrenching lesson when she discovered that the family courts of the 1970s didn’t regard a woman involved in a same-sex relationship as a fit mother. Hart's dad was given custody, and her mom was left to see her children every other weekend and a few weeks in the summer.

Living in the upscale Manhattan Beach with her upper class father and, after a short interlude, her new stepmother, the author longed for her too-seldom visits to her mother in Oxnard—a place not only geographically distant, but as culturally dissimilar as two places in Southern California could be. This split in her reality left the young Hart understandably confused about her own identity. In Oxnard, she was attracted to the culture of the predominantly Latino neighbors: their lively parties, delicious food, and the warmth that she perceived to be missing from her Manhattan Beach home. As she grew older, Hart longed to emulate her mother’s sexuality. But much to her chagrin, Hart discovered she was attracted to boys, and as much as she yearned to belong to the Latino culture, she was an outsider there as well.

While the writing is skilled and evocative, and the scenes are vivid, Hart gives us a book that doesn’t quite deliver a satisfying, cohesive story. Despite the themes that she revisits (one of the major themes of Gringa is the search for belonging by a girl whose mother was cruelly ostracized from her children by the legal system), her account lacks a defining arc. In some ways, this is not surprising. After all, this is a memoir, and real life is, by nature, episodic. What marks a skilled memoirist is her ability to sift through the events of her life and distill the story. Unless this is accomplished, her readers will ask themselves, “Why should I read this?”

While I was keenly interested in the problems Hart encounters as a result of her mother’s absence, her experiences as the daughter of a woman in a lesbian relationship, and the challenges she faced living with her often angry father and her new stepmother. I was far less interested in her account of getting a new car, her brief high school acting career, or her interlude as a student in Santa Barbara. A more judicious editor would likely have advised taking much of this material out because, while the writing is competent, it fails to overcome the problems in these chapters: a lack of narrative momentum, a clear relationship with the central story of the memoir, and a compelling conflict that makes the reader care.

Hart’s memoir is important in that it adds to our understanding of the impact of anti-gay prejudice and the bitter price children of lesbian and gay parents have been forced to pay; this is evoked with great emotional resonance in the book. Unfortunately, the strength of the memoir is diluted by the inclusion of material that seems extraneous.

Written by: Elaine Beale, February 25th 2010

Girldrive: Criss-Crossing America, Redefining Feminism

admin — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 09:36:00 +0000

By Nona Willis Aronowitz, Emma Bee Bernstein

Seal Press

Fifty years before writer Nona Willis Aronowitz and photographer Emma Bee Bernstein set out on a months-long journey to hear what young U.S. women had to say about feminism, gender, and social inequities, Jack Kerouac’ iconic road trip narrative, On The Road, hit the shelves. “Girldrive stands in defiance of this boys’ club model of all-night chatter and roadside prostitution,” Bernstein wrote in the book’s Postscript. True enough. But while Girldrive blurs the line between romantic travel journal and ardent sociological exploration, the end result is disappointing. Rather than redefining feminism, as the book’s subtitle claims, Girldrive offers 127 vague snippets from conversations with diverse women who are living, working, and studying in small cities and towns across the country.

Studs Terkel they’re not. Instead of being an in-depth exploration of each speaker’s heart and mind, the interviews seem rushed and the only conclusion one can reach is that feminism means different things to different people. Most of the women interviewed are under thirty, and while they are forthcoming about their views, their attitudes range from the shocking to the expected.

There’s Liana, who “sees being a wife and mother as the ultimate chance to be a role model for young women,” and Kuma, who doesn’t want to be considered a feminist because “men are a great asset” in her life. For her, feminism and man hating are synonymous. Anti-abortion Katherine sees the push for women’s equality as defying God’s law. “The male is the giver and the woman is the receiver,” she explains.

Of course, not every interviewee is hostile to the women’s movement. Shelby, the authors write, “has long considered herself a feminist, which to her means, among other things, being sexually empowered.” Ann has a broader view: “Any woman, if she believes in herself, is a feminist.”

Most of Aronowitz and Bernstein’s subjects hold a middle ground, hating gender discrimination, but not defining it as a central issue in their lives. Jennifer, a poet and professor with cerebral palsy, believes health trumps other concerns. “Disabled woman [are] off the feminist radar,” she says. Violeta puts race front-and-center: “I think my being black usually comes before my being a woman…Feminism has been presented as a white thing.” Similarly, Siman, a Muslim born in Somalia, argues that “gender equality is not a priority when your entire culture is under attack.”

It’s hard to know how the authors feel about this range of responses. The only real clue comes from Aronowitz’ Afterword. “We wanted to be involved in conversations that would in themselves function like grassroots activism—prompting women to talk about the way they understand their experience as women in this country—socially, politically, and economically,” she reports.

Readers can speculate about the likelihood of this happening. But did it? What we do know is that Bernstein and Aronowitz’ dialogue ended with Bernstein’s suicide in December 2008; Girldrive is dedicated to the pair’s short-lived collaboration.

How Aronowitz finished Girldrive given these circumstances is anyone’s guess, but she is certainly to be lauded for opening a window into the disparate views of women trying to make sense of early twenty-first century America. In the end, despite Girldrive's superficiality, it manages to touch on scores of interesting subjects. While the result leaves many blanks to be filled, it is likely that the book will inspire others to hit the road and dig for answers.

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, November 25th 2009

Women of Color and Feminism

admin — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 17:33:00 +0000

By Maythee Rojas

Seal Press

If many postmodern feminists would have it, colour or “race” wouldn't be of primary concern in theorising oppression; a woman would be seen as much more than her race, class, and sexuality. In other words, every woman's experience of oppression is nuanced, different. And if the postmodern approach is hugely popular and trounces other feminist methods of studying oppression, Women of Color and Feminism by Maythee Rojas would be rendered obsolete.

But it hasn't, and that's because we cannot get past race and the “assumptions based on our physical features [that] invariably work against our attempts at self-actualisation.” Thus the only way to gain some control over our lives as non-White women is by claiming politically-charged identities. In this, Rojas means 'Women of Colour'.

Rojas expresses surprise that her students, who are mostly people of colour, do not identify with the term, but she doesn't have to investigate too deeply to discover why: women of colour, as a group and in its use as terminology, have long been marginalised within academia. Learning about “Others” is reduced to courses on multiculturalism, and everywhere else, people are expected to be perceived as simply people. Rojas does not suggest, however, that the term is a loaded one, or one that has the political potency that feminist also has. Typically associated with the Black civil rights movement, “colored” can sound outdated and exclusive, and it's unsurprising that not many, especially outside the cabal of feminist academia, take it up.

Women of Color and Feminism is interspersed with profiles of women and historical vignettes that readers are made to understand as inspirations for feminist consciousness in different ethnic communities in the United States. One cannot help but note a sense of tragedy that overhangs each profile. Anna Mae Pictau-Acquash, Saartjie Baartman, Korean camptown women, and Josefa Loaiza are all women whose lives have been marked by and remembered for the brutality inflicted on them because of the way they looked and where they came from.

Disco diva Donna Summers makes an unexpected appearance as the subject of Rojas' analysis on the sexuality of women of colour. Known for her risque lyrics and sexy media persona, Summers' 1970s career is projected as a kind of yardstick for how much women of colour, particularly Black women, have gained following the sexual revolution in the 1960s. It's far from a 'happily ever after' of sexual autonomy and empowerment, Rojas notes, as everything the disco singer represented—in her music and image—was hugely complicit in reinforcing heterosexist 'love' and resurrecting the ghost of the Black Jezebel.

Rojas also covers a range of issues pertaining to the struggles of women of colour that are not usually associated with mainstream feminism. This includes reproductive rights as the right to remain fertile, as women of colour have been known to be sterilised against their will for numerous racist reasons, and the rights of incarcerated women to better health care in prison, protection from abuse behind bars, and better rehabilitation programmes.

The limitations I find in Rojas' already expansive account is the omission of feminist work by women of colour whose goals are integrated within mainstream feminism's agenda. This is important, especially in her final chapter on transnational feminism in which she stresses the key to feminism's dynamism is the need for common links with other feminists to be established on a continual basis—not just with other women of colour, but with white women too. Women of Color and Feminism makes it clear that under the pressure of silence and marginalisation, more and more women of colour feel compelled to create narratives that represent their unique experiences through whatever means possible. Visual art, stand-up comedy, and blogs are the new, life-affirming sources of inspirations for feminists of colour, and not Rojas' flawed selection of women of colour's tragic lives.

Written by: Alicia Izharuddin, November 18th 2009

Men and Feminism

admin — Wed, 27 May 2009 02:50:00 +0000

By Shira Tarrant

Seal Press

First off, when you see the cover of Men and Feminism you'll notice that this book is part of the Seal Press Studies series. But do not freak out! While this book can easily be in a Gender & Women's Studies course syllabus, I also believe this is an excellent book for anyone to pick up in order to know more about how men have fit into the feminist movement.

What's that? You don't think that men have been a part of the feminist movement? Oh how mistaken you are! But it's not your fault you believe that: first of all, our history classes don't teach women's history, and when we take it upon ourselves we focus on the accomplishments of kick ass women like Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Dolores Huerta. In fact, men have been supportive of the movement all along, not as many as we would want, but that's where Shira Tarrant really gets into the question of men and feminism.

Tarrant goes through the history of the (mostly American) women's movement and reveals the men behind the amazing women. She also reveals some of their contradictions, including how their public voice did not match their private lives and how men used motherhood as a way to push for women's rights.

I felt the gem of this book was how Tarrant wrestled with trans and gay issues within the context of feminism and masculinity. She showed us how the fear of being labeled a sissy keeps even the most feminist of men silent thus complacent in continuing our sexist and homophobic society. She walks us through how ignoring or being ignorant of trans-issues keeps us focused on the false binary of boy-girl, masculine-feminine, and thus, keeps all of us in gendered boxes.

As close friends know, I believe my feminism can connect with almost any issue, and Tarrant does a brilliant job at showing us how we must pay attention to the plight of boys and men under patriarchy in order to bring out a more just world. I wish I'd had this book a few years ago when I was trying to create a men's issues committee for a feminist organization I use to work with. I was shot down loudly and quickly.

Tarrant has a great chapter on male privilege. It's an easy read in terms of vocabulary, although it might be hard to totally grasp. Essentially, Tarrant says, "Great, you're a great guy. You might love a feminist woman, never hit her and even support her work. But unless you are taking progressive steps to call out others on their sexism there's still work to be done." It's not finger-pointing or male-bashing at all. Rather, it's a straightforward call to action for all the "I'm not a feminist, but..." men in our lives who really need to walk all that talk.

This would be an excellent present for a feminist-dad-in-training. It's 150 pages of the feminist manliness. If you're a nerd like me, it's great summer reading too.

Written by: Veronica I. Arreola, May 26th 2009

The Purity Myth: How America's Obsession with Virginity is Hurting Young Women

admin — Fri, 01 May 2009 08:58:00 +0000

By Jessica Valenti

Seal Press

Let me begin this review by professing my support for Jessica Valenti's overarching purpose in The Purity Myth: to expose the trope of sexual purity as deeply entrenched in American culture and to demonstrate the harmfulness of this trope on young American women. I agree with her assessment of the state and nature of "purity" (indeed, race theorists and sexuality theorists have long since questioned the value of the concept of purity), and I applaud her commitment to the social, psychological, sexual, and ethical flourishing of young women.

It disappoints me to be disappointed in this book. The Purity Myth is best suited to affirm the beliefs of someone already in agreement with Valenti's main points and is unlikely to have much effect on someone who is either on the fence or who might require sound arguments, solid reasoning, and logical coherence to appreciate the efforts made in this book.

Valenti's prose sparkles in her blog writing. She is witty and humorous. Though in this book it is unclear precisely what point her humor is meant to make. Is it meant to make palatable an insidious social problem that, without humor, might be ignored because of its crushing ubiquity? Perhaps. Her pot shots at previous boyfriends, her droll tales of her own sexual experiences, and her unsubtle eye-rolling when discussing other people's research all have the effect of obscuring and dulling her otherwise sharp observations and assessments.

Worse, when Valenti discusses the research done on young women's sexual habits, she unproblematically scoffs at those who report that women who engage in sexual activities at younger ages report higher incidence of depression. Perhaps she criticizes these studies because they don't differentiate between women who were molested or assaulted at young ages (who might be expected to report depression); women who consented to sexual activities believing that the 'magic' of sex would solve their other insecurities and uncertainties (who might also be expected to report depression); and healthy, happy, well-adjusted women who freely consented to sex with a reasonable expectation of what sex is and what sex is not (who might not be expected to report depression). Unfortunately Valenti doesn't make this clear, and she runs the risk of implying that reports of depression linked to early sexual activity are fabrications of the pro-purity faction, which effectually undermines women's reports of depression and makes women who do report depression related to their sexual experiences into the dupes of the pro-purity movement. Further, had she discussed this research in greater depth, she could have convincingly argued that the authors she critiques help to support one of her own points: women report depression not because of sex itself, but because of past sexual trauma or the accumulated moral meanings sex has taken on in our purity-obsessed culture.

One of the reviewers of this book delighted in Valenti's "wit" and "sass," which helped to convince the reviewer that feminism isn't boring. One of her best-stated, most concise points appears in a footnote: "a young woman's decision to have sex, or not, shouldn't impact how she's seen as a moral actor." If such strong statements as this one were not swaddled in pages of "sass," this would be a book that could support future academic endeavors as well as popular movements and conversations in order to undermine the myth of purity. As it stands, The Purity Myth is a comfortable affirmation for feminists who already know that feminism is not boring.

Written by: kristina grob, May 1st 2009

Yes Means Yes!: Visions of Female Sexual Power and A World Without Rape

admin — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 11:29:00 +0000

Edited by Jaclyn Friedman, Jessica Valenti

Seal Press

The Apostate: My initial reaction when I heard about the Yes Means Yes! anthology was mixed. It seemed that the problem of rape was being used for a catchy slogan's sake (the catchy slogan being a play on the anti-rape "no means no" rule), and not because it made any real sense. I wasn't sure where you could go with that—connecting sexuality with rape culture in a way that was meaningful for actual cultural change and impact on women's lives.

Professor What If: The introduction notes that the book intends to offer “a frank and in-depth conversation about forward-thinking ways to battle-rape culture,” and the book truly does contain many frank, in-depth conversations that formulate ways to rethink not only preventing rape, but also re-shaping the way we approach sex and sexuality. While the reasons behind the book are laudable, I find the claim that valuing female sexual pleasure will stop rape the book puts forward a bit too simplistic. Although the book nods to the complex socio-cultural factors that perpetuate rape culture, it stops short of really grappling with how rape is a by-product of our patriarchal, militarized, commodified world. I do think this is a very important book that makes crucial contributions to re-thinking sexuality, but it is only part of a much needed conversation we need to have—both in books and in blogs—about eradicating rape culture.

The Apostate: I think rape culture should have been expounded upon more. I don't think people understand the difference between rape and rape culture, and that wasn't really addressed, which gave rise to some of the confusion around why anyone thought Yes Means Yes! would stop rape—the writers didn't think it would! They just want to dismantle rape culture, which is a bigger and more amorphous thing than the specific crime of rape, even if rape takes place within the context of rape culture.

Professor What If: I was impressed with the broad coverage of the book and the diversity of voices. I especially appreciated those pieces that emphasized anti-rape activism must include teaching men not to rape and helping men to recognize rape. Jill Filipovic’s piece, for example, was very effective in examining the social-cultural contexts of rape culture and the need to include men in anti-rape activism and education. I also liked the inclusion of queer, male, fat, sex work, and BDSM perspectives.

The Apostate: My favorite essay was Thomas MacAuley Millar’s. It really dismantled the perceptions of sex as something that is done to you, as a woman, rather than something you (enthusiastically) participate in. That is not a concept enough people understand; and although I get it, I have never seen it articulated so well as Millar did. His essay was beautifully written, cogent, with a great metaphor about sex as music. The commodity model of sex is one of the biggest hurdles women face, if they act like they are free to pursue their pleasure. People don't think their pleasure is really part of the picture at all, since women are the object, not the subject. And another thing: I had never realized how "no means no" continues to frame the sex as between a predator and prey, as Julia Serano defined the terms.

Professor What If: Many of the authors argued against the 'power over' dynamic that shapes our thinking about sexuality by emphasizing mutual consent, doing away with the competition model of sex, ensuring certain partners (namely women) are not objectified/dehumanized, etc. I think this re-thinking of the power dynamics in relation to sex/sexuality are crucial. However, they must also be addressed in relation to those politics of domination that shape our society—patriarchy, capitalism, sexism, racism. Also, I wonder about the subtitle “visions of female sexual power.” Do we really want to rethink sexuality in terms of power? Doesn’t this go against the mutual consent/pleasure model the book upholds?

The Apostate: The emphasis on sexual assault—and personal stories of pain and damage around that—got overwhelming in the second half of the book. The joy of enthusiastically consenting sex got lost in there. I think that focusing on how rape and sexual assault affect women's lives is very important, especially as so much of this reality is not captured in statistics or on the news, but perhaps sex as pain should not have predominated quite as much.

Professor What If: I think an analysis of rape in same-sex or non-heterosexual relationships is missing. In keeping with this notion, the book frames women as rape victims, not covering boys and men as also victims/survivors of rape. For example, as rape within systems like the Catholic Church and public schools is prevalent, this seems a key omission. How could the rape culture condoned by religious establishments or the military be addressed via the “yes means yes” paradigm? In ways, the book leaves out the institutionalized aspect of rape and focuses on “individual rape scripts.” In so doing, it doesn’t fully examine those social structures and institutions that shape sexuality and perpetuate rape culture—the family, the church, the law, the military, etc.

The Apostate: The overall feel I got from the book was very "alternative." It was very citified, and very margins-of-society, written by people we don't hear from on a daily basis in mainstream coverage. Those voices are all the more crucial for being so marginalized, and also because it is on the margins of society that the worst abuses happen. That said, I think it lacked a certain degree of balance. I did think it covered a wide range of issues and perspectives—except for married, heterosexual, middle class sexuality and the sexuality of older people. The only reason I would have liked to see that balance is to "normalize" these issues for the mainstream; so much of this sort of thing is hidden, under wraps, and allowing only the margins to speak out about it gives the deceptive impression that the problem of rape culture is not the problem of all women—which it most certainly is.

Professor What If: I love blogs and blogging, but books are not blogs. Rather than trying to make the two mediums the same, I think we should value each medium (print v. online) in its own right. I found the “hyper-link” structure did not translate well into print format. Further, in keeping with the “blog format” of the book, many of the pieces were written in the less formal, talky style of blogs. Javacia Harris, for example, writes “Don’t get me wrong. I’m certainly not anti-sexy—I’ve been to my fair share of striptease aerobics classes.” This style seems too light for the aims outlined in the introduction and this style allows comments like these to be tossed out with no analysis of the wider cultural contexts that defines normative notions of “sexy” and results in the very existence of striptease aerobics classes in the first place.

Too often the attitude that framed the arguments in the book is that any choice is ok as long as you know why you’re making it. This “sexual empowering choices model” is too simplistic. This is partly due to choosing a “blog style” for the book—a style that makes the book seem a bit too light given the subject matter at hand. While blogs work in a conversational, of-the-minute style, books allow for more thoughtful, hard-hitting, heavily researched writing. Both have their merits, but trying to write a book that functions like a blog makes me wonder about the purpose of going the print publication route; if one is not going to take advantage of a book format (and go into deeper analysis/research), stick to a blog (and indeed, the editors have a blog of the same name now up and running.

The Apostate: I also thought the hyperlink theme was a little redundant. I liked the idea to begin with, but I ended up skipping the lists at the end of each essay and just read linearly. I did glance at a few and thought they didn't always make sense; they tended to include a quarter of the book each time, after every essay. A thematic unity among pieces kind of fell into one's head automatically, so I didn't see the necessity of that. As for the authors being mostly bloggers and part of the blogging community, I do think that it was perhaps a little insular and self-referential. For someone outside that community of bloggers, perhaps a lot of this stuff would be very new—some context is missing and some pieces are more bewildering than others. But overall, the hyperlinking style is easily ignored and doesn't detract, even if it doesn't add.

Professor What If: Examining the many factors that contribute to rape culture is helpful in addressing the pervasiveness of sexual violence. However, I still found there was a bit too much emphasis on what females do/do not do. The introduction notes that often what is missing in analyses of rape is the rapist. This book, with its focus on "yes” and on female’s “owning” their sexuality also under-analyzes rapists, instead focusing on women’s need to familiarize themselves with “enthusiastic consent.” In a strange way, the book thus keeps the onus of changing rape culture squarely on women’s shoulders. Many of the solutions seem a bit too individualized—as if becoming sexually empowered and educated will be enough to stop rape (or at least stop it from happening to oneself). While many of the texts offer useful, concrete suggestions to move towards a world without rape, I think more analysis of how the politics of domination upheld within patriarchy, capitalism, and militarism (all which profoundly shape our world) was needed. Also, we need to examine how intertwined violence and sexuality are in contemporary society—violence is so pervasive that it cannot be extracted from sex/sexuality. All of the enthusiastic “yes’s” in the world won’t change this.

The Apostate: A lot of issues being talked about are really not discussed in our society and they need to be. And I was totally won over by the thesis of the book—that a woman's right and enthusiastic consent to sex were central to how sex and sexual violence are perceived. I’m really glad to see a somewhat mainstream book about women's experiences and hopes for a positive, enthusiastic, feminist ideal that also includes women as sexual creatures: horny, lusty, and slutty. Jaclyn Friedman's essay about overt sexuality really spoke to me on that front.

Professor What If: The book is a really good first step towards re-thinking rape culture. Like Valenti’s other books, it will speak to many young feminists. However, being the theory-loving academic that I am, I found myself writing in the margins comments such as, “But where is the theory?” For that reason, I really liked Lee Jacobs Riggs account of our “sex negative” culture and the ways she also addressed the prisons/the criminal legal system and other oppressive systems. I would have liked more hard-hitting pieces like the ones by Coco Fusco and Miriam Zoila Perez (which were my favorites). Too often elsewhere, I came across the word “probably” being used to assess information. In the end, I also found the attack on second-wavers off-putting. Why does this have to be one of the defining characteristics of third wave texts? We need to get over the feminist blame game. No one “wave” has all the answers, and I think sometimes third wave feminism fails to address it’s own shortcomings.

Written by: The Apostate, Professor What If, February 16th 2009

Feminism and Pop Culture

admin — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 18:04:00 +0000

By Andi Zeisler

Seal Press

No matter how sophisticated you believe yourself to be, consuming pop culture is often inevitable in modern life. From reacting to coverage of major news events to understanding how advertising permeates our media landscape, chances are most self-identified feminists have considered how so-called low culture affects our perceptions of our selves and our world. As the lines between high and low culture have increasingly blurred over the past several decades, feminists—both polished academics and dilettantes—have begun to examine how mainstream media affects our activism and how we have become necessary agents in the deconstruction of pop culture.

In Feminism and Pop Culture, Bitch magazine cofounder Andi Zeisler is able to do what does not regularly happen in the pages of the magazine. Introducing readers to the reasons why the relationship between feminism and popular culture is important, example after example illustrates how feminist interpretation of television, music, film, and news events has progressively become an important part of understanding our world. While many know Bitch as a “feminist response to pop culture,” some do not always recognize the value in making celebrity gossip, B movies, and shoddy mainstream reporting the locus of activism and (re)action. If you haven’t spent years sifting through Bitch magazine archives, or haven’t read BitchFest, Feminism and Pop Culture will shine new light on these relationships. If you’re already immersed in the language and analysis of the B-word, here you’ll find one more piece of Zeisler’s Bitch-y empire in which she continues to find comprehensive ways to state her purpose.

Feminism and Pop Culture traces the history of popular culture from the 1920s to today, drawing on a wealth of resources and debunking cultural myths about women along the way. An easily digestible read with helpful fact boxes and sidebars, we come to understand the importance of Bridget Jones alongside theoretical concepts like the male gaze. The book does not just explain the relationships between theory and practice. It slowly introduces readers to the not-so-secret techniques of feminist critical analysis and equips them to begin interpreting popular culture for their own empowered selves.

Zeisler makes feminist theory applicable and accessible, so while this book is the first in the Seal Studies series and will arguably to be utilized in introductory Women’s Studies and media theory courses, it retains an approachable quality. Feminism and Pop Culture explains the necessary truth about our frivolous media consumption: popular culture is about fun and pleasure, yet it is because of this that it retains and wields such power.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, January 24th 2009

My So-Called Freelance Life

admin — Sat, 13 Sep 2008 11:51:00 +0000

By Michelle Goodman

Seal Press

Goodman has been freelancing for sixteen years at the time of publication. From the jump, her writing is accessible and fun. The follow-up to the somewhat well known The Anti-9-5 Guide: Practical Advice for Women Who Think Outside the Cube, Goodman is once again onto something. What other how-to guides (repeatedly) use phrases like “get this freelance party started”? When you read a book like My So-Called Freelance Life, it isn’t hard to wonder how anyone can break from a traditional mindset about how to make money and allow themselves the freedom to quit nasty situations. My guess is that radical personal politics and at least a small cushion of safety are two important components. They were for me.

Goodman is particularly skilled at debunking the myth that freelancers are kept women who have quaint hobbies and fleeting interests. She also doesn’t assume anything is off limits because of gender. Want to be a freelance welder? According to Goodman, you just need a solid business plan – and not the ugly 200-page kind. Other practical tips include choosing your client instead of being so desperate; they choose you (and you’re forced to accept every nasty job that falls in your lap). Always be moving toward goals: better clients, bigger paychecks, more freedom. Isn’t that why you went solo in the first place? In other words, don’t be afraid to give yourself a promotion just because you’re self-employed.

You also should be clear: freelancing will not always mean working for others. Goodman loosely defines freelancers as women who have gone on to start their own businesses with multiple additional employees. Freelancers are also women (much like myself) who do creative work for pay and supplement their income with assorted odd jobs, often in the service industry or as social servants.

My So-Called Freelance Life is also a somewhat refreshing anti-establishment approach to making your own way, particularly during the recession that Americans currently face. Sometimes, freelancing can shrink some costs (less commute equals lower car insurance and repairs, for example). Fewer dry cleaning bills aren’t the only reason to work at home. And were you thinking about leaving your nine-to-five while still in massive debt? Goodman doesn’t politely say, “Think it over.” She tells you to stick it out or your life, even if being lived in daily cube hell, will only get exponentially worse.

The only real criticism I’d have is that despite inclusive, pro-woman language that fills this pseudo self-help book, I cringe whenever I see a female write the phrase, “I’m their bitch.” Reclamation of the word aside, maybe this is a liberal feminism I don’t personally employ, but I do think a better word could easily be used in this type of context.

Freelancers abroad be warned—a lot of this information is for stateside folk. Certainly you should write what you know, so Goodman did just that, but if you’re a struggling freelancer in say, London or Cairo, this will give you great generalized advice, but the money sections (and some of the tech specs) won’t do you a bit of good. The author acknowledges her own limited scope, but she doesn’t spend time going into it further than that.

You don’t have to reach the final chapters before this book makes you believe you can make it as a freelancer. That, in our culture of fear and negativity, might be the most valuable aspect of all.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, September 13th 2008

The Boss of You: Everything A Woman Needs to Know to Start, Run, and Maintain Her Own Business

admin — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 11:13:00 +0000

By Lauren Bacon, Emira Mears

Seal Press

Have you ever thought the world might be ready for your hand knit tea cozy business? The successful owners of Raised Eyebrow Web Studios, Lauren Bacon and Emira Mears, have written a business book for women entrepreneurs who want to define their own success: The Boss of You: Everything A Woman Needs to Know to Start, Run, and Maintain Her Own Business. According to the authors, this is the book they wish they'd had when starting their business. Bacon and Mears interviewed several successful businesswomen and used their own experience to write a book about starting and maintaining a viable, independent business.

The Boss of You is split up into three sections. The focus of first section is defining a vision for your business, developing a plan, and coming up with financial scenarios. Bacon and Mears encourage readers to figure out the goals for their business (e.g., serving locally grown vegetarian food or being at home when the kids come home from school) and coming up with personal measures of success. Bacon and Mears also discuss the pros and cons of developing a business plan and advise its development if one is seeking outside funding, whether from a financial institution or a rich aunt).

The second section deals primarily with marketing your new business and features helpful tips on addressing your potential audience, developing marketing materials (e.g., hiring a graphic designer to develop a logo and company identity), advertising and promoting your business, public relations, and networking. Bacon and Mears suggest enlisting the help of friends and family to be your first focus group and to honestly tell you what works and doesn’t work for your product or service. They also focus heavily on networking with other female entrepreneurs to discuss business strategies or just to unwind after a difficult week.

In the final section Bacon and Mears focus on growing and maintaining your business. There are tips on hiring employees, customer service, and expanding your business. There is an additional resource section at the end of the book that includes recommended websites and books on the topics of writing a business plan, setting up an online storefront, networking, and swapping services with other business owners.

Bacon and Mears have written an encouraging business book for the indie business owner and DIY crowd. Throughout the book, the authors offer opportunities to make useful lists and write down goals, budgets, and new ideas. If I were going to quit my day job and start a business, The Boss of You is the book I’d want on my shelf.

Written by: Rekesha Spellman, August 4th 2008