Throughout the literature review for my independent study this semester, I’ve had a similar pattern of work and thought. I’d read the text I had selected for the given week and be so fired up that I was prepared to write immediately. This week, as I explored Laurie Penny’s Unspeakable Things, the pattern didn’t follow suit. When I finished the text (mainly focusing on chapters one and four), I was at a loss for words. I had mixed emotions and could not piece together words to express them. I was angry, mainly at patriarchy – as was Penny when she wrote these fuming essays – and frustrated and dejected at the same time. I put the book down and walked away which eventually turned into a week apart from the text. In that week, I let my gut reactions and frustrations form the basis of this critique.
I’ve been searching for an appropriate context in which I can use the word normal. Maybe it’s applicable in health-related settings or when discussing human development; maybe not. In reality, normal is an adjective thrown around daily by blind individuals with no consideration of privilege or positionality. Normal is a box that is checked when you belong to societal majorities such as a dominant or majority race, gender, sexuality, socioeconomic status, religion, or other core identifier. Penny’s anger in the text does little to hide her marginalized identities, especially those related to sexuality and body image. I didn’t tear this text to shreds with annotations per usual, but rather cautiously sifted through Penny’s words because they are her precious memories and girlhood experiences. Her writing style is quite admirable, and I was enthralled by the narrative she shaped around her history with eating disorders.
The line in chapter one that resonated mostly prominently with me (although it was really all genuinely riveting) was from page 27: “Falling apart elegantly is a rich girl’s game, a white girl’s game, a fashion girl’s game.” As a part-time fashion blogger (who’s far from wealthy), it’s pretty easy to recognize Penny’s commentary on falling apart, but preventing others from seeing. From my blog to my social media accounts – Instagram most notably – it’s pretty easy to paint a picture of an easy and relatively carefree life in the images I choose to share. What my photos don’t mention is the lack of sleep I got because I did five hours of homework and two of blogging after working 10 hours most days of the week, the SO’s ex bullying me on social media, the struggle to maintain friendships with more than the people I work or live with, the fear of getting asked what I’m going to do after graduation when I have no plan, the lack of preparedness and the betrayal I feel at twenty-one years old when I don’t understand credit or health insurance, or the twentysomething pounds that have fallen off my body in three short months.
We’ve all got skeletons in our closets and some are older and more decayed than others, but we purposefully choose not to let anyone see. Girls in American culture attempt to mask these internal struggles only to be faced with societal critique that pits them against unrealistic standards of normality. When one – or God-forbid more than one – of a girl’s identities deviate from socially accepted standards of beauty, of dress, of language, of profession, of ambition, of sex, of morality, of whatever you can think, she is shamed. Although society provides us examples of women who seem to fit all the specifications of normal, beautiful, or other absurdly restrictive classifications, these women are still scrutinized in ludicrous ways in regard to the most trivial of topics which Penny notes is a contributing factor to rises in self-harm and self-destruction. How do we* build confidence in our girls?
*We being confident women who have platforms on which we look put together, but still haven’t figured out how to overcome internal demons set ablaze by the same systems of oppression that police the identities of our girls.
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Blogger Feature: Aussa Lorens
If we’re all sisters in the struggle, I want to be Aussa’s right-hand woman. Speaking to my internal conflicts and those of Laurie Penny, Aussa Lorens has something figured out – she speaks candidly and unapologetically about everything that she sees fit on her site, Hacker. Ninja. Hooker. Spy. From domestic violence, sex, workplace scandal, and more, Aussa’s commentary is raw, honest, and usually pretty entertaining. I think the best way to build confidence in ourselves as women and to make others feel like their identities have worth is to celebrate our experiences and provide spaces in which we can talk about our histories in the way we see fit. I applaud Aussa’s perpetual audacity to be a voice for those who’ve yet to find theirs and to continuously challenge the politics of respectability for women in America.
Photo by DR Productions.
