As my parents can attest, 1991 was my “bad” year.
I often ask myself if I’m wrong to talk about beauty as much as I do. I know that the question of beauty is a contentious one. If beauty is used to make women feel like they don’t measure up, then maybe the whole idea of beauty should be tossed out the window.
The last three chapters–“Sex,” “Hunger” and “Violence”–of Naomi Wolf’s seminal text were at least twice as compelling as the first half of the book (bogged down as it was by sloppy “Culture” and irrelevant, albeit interesting, “Religion”), primarily because Wolf finally interrupted her endless litanies of ad copy and study results to share her own, […]
When Naomi Wolf started writing nonsensical, victim-blaming screeds about rape accusers, I thought, “Too bad I never got around to reading The Beauty Myth, because there’s no way I’m subjecting myself to more of her foolish blubbering.” I’m glad that I abandoned my initial boycott of Wolf, because I’ve found the first half of The […]