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crystalstarrlight's review against another edition
4.0
It used to be that strippers and the Playboy Bunny were a "man's thing", but now many women are wearing the Playboy bunny proudly or going to strip clubs. And all this is done in the name of empowering women. But is it empowering - or is it the same old patriarchy in different clothing?
A lot of intro to feminist books I've read have referenced this book, so I had to check it out. And even though I sorta knew what to expect, I was stunned and felt I learned a lot.
Levy has a great, professional, engaging tone that at times drips with anger and sarcasm. It seems a lot of the feminist books I have been reading lately have a very informal tone, so I appreciated Levy's approach. I also liked how she showed her disgust and anger while never coming across as unprofessional.
As for the book's actual contents: WOW! I remember the popularity of the Playboy brand back in the early noughties and was aware, but had never seen, Sex and the City, but apparently, the culture was way more wild than I realized. Women idolizing porn stars? The desire to be sexually appealing, but not for actual female sexual desire? And then there is how the 18 and under set adopted this phenomenon. How absolutely vile and disgusting to tell these poor girls that they are only as good as their bodies and how sexy (and skimpy!) their clothes are! At a time when they need to figure themselves out - sexually, mentally, and holistically.
Some random comments: Levy, like it seems every feminist author is required to do, includes a bit on labiaplasty, aka "designer vaginas", a horrible procedure that women are doing to make their woo-woos look like porn stars. Disgusting...but does every feminist author have to include a section on this? Is it THAT prevalent of a trend? Also, if you read this book and were curious more about the abstinence movement, check out Valenti's "The Purity Myth". (I unfortunately am way too familiar with the movement, being raised as an isolated homeschooled evangelical fundamentalist.)
This book was definitely insightful and educating, just like how I like my non-fiction. After reading this book, it's hard to think of the raunch culture and women embracing it as anything but anti-feminist. Raunch culture specifically caters to men and the male gaze - the women in this movement very rarely say ANYTHING about being turned on by their girl-on-girl encounters, wearing sexy clothes, or acting like a stripper. And that is terribly wrong; women can't continue to be objects of men's desires. We are our own unique beings with our own desires and deserve to be respected for who we are, not for whether a man finds us sexy. A worthwhile read.
A lot of intro to feminist books I've read have referenced this book, so I had to check it out. And even though I sorta knew what to expect, I was stunned and felt I learned a lot.
Levy has a great, professional, engaging tone that at times drips with anger and sarcasm. It seems a lot of the feminist books I have been reading lately have a very informal tone, so I appreciated Levy's approach. I also liked how she showed her disgust and anger while never coming across as unprofessional.
As for the book's actual contents: WOW! I remember the popularity of the Playboy brand back in the early noughties and was aware, but had never seen, Sex and the City, but apparently, the culture was way more wild than I realized. Women idolizing porn stars? The desire to be sexually appealing, but not for actual female sexual desire? And then there is how the 18 and under set adopted this phenomenon. How absolutely vile and disgusting to tell these poor girls that they are only as good as their bodies and how sexy (and skimpy!) their clothes are! At a time when they need to figure themselves out - sexually, mentally, and holistically.
Some random comments: Levy, like it seems every feminist author is required to do, includes a bit on labiaplasty, aka "designer vaginas", a horrible procedure that women are doing to make their woo-woos look like porn stars. Disgusting...but does every feminist author have to include a section on this? Is it THAT prevalent of a trend? Also, if you read this book and were curious more about the abstinence movement, check out Valenti's "The Purity Myth". (I unfortunately am way too familiar with the movement, being raised as an isolated homeschooled evangelical fundamentalist.)
This book was definitely insightful and educating, just like how I like my non-fiction. After reading this book, it's hard to think of the raunch culture and women embracing it as anything but anti-feminist. Raunch culture specifically caters to men and the male gaze - the women in this movement very rarely say ANYTHING about being turned on by their girl-on-girl encounters, wearing sexy clothes, or acting like a stripper. And that is terribly wrong; women can't continue to be objects of men's desires. We are our own unique beings with our own desires and deserve to be respected for who we are, not for whether a man finds us sexy. A worthwhile read.
bookph1le's review against another edition
4.0
Very thought-provoking critical analysis of how the conviction that raunchiness in women equals liberation is actually just sexism in disguise. More thorough review to follow.
Similar themes found in "Enlightened Sexism".
Full review:
I am a woman in my thirties who is not afraid to call herself a feminist. When my mother tells me stories about the discrimination she faced, when I hear about what my female ancestors have been through, I'm grateful to the women who fought to bring us the rights we enjoy today. While we still have a long way to go--indeed, I hope the world will be a much different place for my daughter when she's my age--we have made some progress. This is exactly why I find it so alarming to see that we seem to be digressing rather than progressing. This book sums up a lot of what I think it wrong with the current view of female "liberation" and it reminded me very much of the arguments made in Susan J. Douglas's "Enlightened Sexism". Douglas's book came after this one, and she provides some further, depressing insight into how things have changed very little. What makes the situation especially alarming to me is the fact that women have bought into this false idea of liberation.
As Levy illustrates, what's problematic about today idea of "liberation" is not what women wear or how they act, it's that modern culture has so dehumanized women that they have no real sense of freedom because of what they wear or how they behave. Instead, they are doing so because they feel it is expected of them. They are doing so because society tells them this is what women do, and they want to fit into society's idea of what constitutes being a woman. How can this then be seen as liberation? It's really just the same old sexism, the same old objectification of women repackaged under the guise of liberation. Both Levy and Douglas illustrate the ways in which chauvism has been dressed up as chivalry, purposely designed to keep women exactly where they've always been: second-class citizens.
I think it's especially telling when Levy delves into woman's sexuality. She addresses topics that can also be seen in Peggy Orenstein's "Cinderella Ate My Daughter". It's not that young women are more in tune with their bodies or that they enjoy sex more than women did in the past--far from it. Instead, they are so caught up in trying to fit the definition of "hotness" that the women themselves have made their bodies objects. Instead of embracing their individuality and feeling sexy about what makes them unique, they strive to reconfigure themselves, even going so far as to surgically alter their appearance. How can we call it progress when we live in a world that tells at least half the population that how they look isn't okay and that they can pay thousands and suffer countless hours of pain in order to "correct" their "flaws"?
What's more, this constant obsession with body image distracts women from the real issues, such as the underrepresentation of women in almost every facet of life. Though we are at least fifty percent of the population, we don't make up fifty percent of CEOs or Congresspeople or even published authors. Women are consistently marginalized in the film industry. The 2011 television season provoked an explosion of discussion about the representation of women both on and off camera. Real progress would mean seeing more women break through the corporate glass ceiling, not seeing more women flashing for the cameras of Girls Gone Wild.
What I want more than anything is for men and women to read books like this and to think critically about the messages society is sending. I want men and women to really question just what it is they want for their daughters, their sisters, their close friends. Do we really want these women to be judged on their appearance or their ability to "act like a man"? Or do we want them to be judged based on their intelligence, their skills, their contributions to the world?
Similar themes found in "Enlightened Sexism".
Full review:
I am a woman in my thirties who is not afraid to call herself a feminist. When my mother tells me stories about the discrimination she faced, when I hear about what my female ancestors have been through, I'm grateful to the women who fought to bring us the rights we enjoy today. While we still have a long way to go--indeed, I hope the world will be a much different place for my daughter when she's my age--we have made some progress. This is exactly why I find it so alarming to see that we seem to be digressing rather than progressing. This book sums up a lot of what I think it wrong with the current view of female "liberation" and it reminded me very much of the arguments made in Susan J. Douglas's "Enlightened Sexism". Douglas's book came after this one, and she provides some further, depressing insight into how things have changed very little. What makes the situation especially alarming to me is the fact that women have bought into this false idea of liberation.
As Levy illustrates, what's problematic about today idea of "liberation" is not what women wear or how they act, it's that modern culture has so dehumanized women that they have no real sense of freedom because of what they wear or how they behave. Instead, they are doing so because they feel it is expected of them. They are doing so because society tells them this is what women do, and they want to fit into society's idea of what constitutes being a woman. How can this then be seen as liberation? It's really just the same old sexism, the same old objectification of women repackaged under the guise of liberation. Both Levy and Douglas illustrate the ways in which chauvism has been dressed up as chivalry, purposely designed to keep women exactly where they've always been: second-class citizens.
I think it's especially telling when Levy delves into woman's sexuality. She addresses topics that can also be seen in Peggy Orenstein's "Cinderella Ate My Daughter". It's not that young women are more in tune with their bodies or that they enjoy sex more than women did in the past--far from it. Instead, they are so caught up in trying to fit the definition of "hotness" that the women themselves have made their bodies objects. Instead of embracing their individuality and feeling sexy about what makes them unique, they strive to reconfigure themselves, even going so far as to surgically alter their appearance. How can we call it progress when we live in a world that tells at least half the population that how they look isn't okay and that they can pay thousands and suffer countless hours of pain in order to "correct" their "flaws"?
What's more, this constant obsession with body image distracts women from the real issues, such as the underrepresentation of women in almost every facet of life. Though we are at least fifty percent of the population, we don't make up fifty percent of CEOs or Congresspeople or even published authors. Women are consistently marginalized in the film industry. The 2011 television season provoked an explosion of discussion about the representation of women both on and off camera. Real progress would mean seeing more women break through the corporate glass ceiling, not seeing more women flashing for the cameras of Girls Gone Wild.
What I want more than anything is for men and women to read books like this and to think critically about the messages society is sending. I want men and women to really question just what it is they want for their daughters, their sisters, their close friends. Do we really want these women to be judged on their appearance or their ability to "act like a man"? Or do we want them to be judged based on their intelligence, their skills, their contributions to the world?
ricepudding24's review against another edition
emotional
informative
reflective
5.0
lol some people complaining abt how this book is “slut-shaming” etc obviously didn’t read the entire book and only took bits and pieces without the rest of the book’s context — makes sense since a lot of these ppl say they read it for classes. and also, a book being ‘outdated’ doesn’t mean it’s worse; its reference to culture at the time obviously needs to be taken into the context in which it was written.
drpeeper's review against another edition
3.0
Not bad--Levy definitely raises some interesting points on the problems with modern day "feminism" and its emphasis on raunch culture. Something was missing here for me though; can't put my finger on it. Any ideas?
serru's review against another edition
2.0
Overall this was an easy and fast read, with some of valid points. However, I read this a few years after it first came out and the main premise of this book seems very obvious to me, especially now that many of her examples (Girls Gone Wild, stripper culture) are so widespread in popular culture (Girls Gone Wild even seems outdated now).
mld12's review against another edition
4.0
This book is an excellent example of an academic analysis of popular culture without being... well, academic. It's also a swift read! Levy does a great job telling short stories and setting the scene for each of her interviews, and she laces each encounter and analysis with historical and theoretical perspectives. Despite its age, this book is an excellent read for positing why the 2000s were imbued with raunch culture, and we can start to draw a path from where we were to where we are now.
amalauna's review against another edition
1.0
This is not a feminist book. It's a judgmental attack on women. The author takes gleeful pride in attacking women while hypocritically bemoaning women gleefully attacking women.
Read Caitlin Moran instead.
Read Caitlin Moran instead.
bookysue's review against another edition
3.0
A lot of good points and ideas.
I do think there was a fairly substantial problem of response bias present in the words from some of her interviewees. Obviously I don't know what went on behind the scenes, but the sense I got is that some of these women knew or could intuit Levy's general thesis, and they wanted to reconcile their ideas and lifestyles with that thesis.
The clearest example of this to me is on page 194: Levy analyzes the words of interviewee Lynn, who says she enjoys "titty bars" because she likes "the bored looks on their faces" when the dancers are "just staring up at the ceiling." Levy is confused by this contradiction, wondering why Lynn would take pleasure in "seeing a person wear a compromising costume and watching the tedium of her life unfold." To me, the answer is pretty clear: Lynn probably goes to strip clubs and takes part in raunch culture because she, like many women who do this, thinks it makes her interesting and cool. The women I've known who did these things were women who wanted to seem apart from other women -- better than and cooler than -- especially in the eyes of men.
But when faced with that question of "why?" Lynn didn't want to say "because it makes me seem interesting and cool to dudes." Or, if she actually is turned on by strip clubs, which is certainly possible, then she could obviously tell that the idea of that did not appeal to Levy in the least, so she changed her words to minimize her actual motivations -- once again, to maintain her coolness.
We've all seen it happen when with a group of friends: Someone boldly states they like something -- a comedian or a TV show or a restaurant -- and the majority of the rest of the group quickly comes out against it, making lighthearted fun of the person who originally spoke up. And this forces that first person to minimize or rationalize their enjoyment of that thing in a way that brings them back into harmony with the group. "I like The Bachelor!" "What?? That show is terrible!" "Well, yeah, but I just like it because it's such a train wreck to watch! Imagine the people who actually watch that show because they like it HAHAHA losers!"
I liken it to the negative and positive signs that appear above characters' heads in the game The Sims. We're always working toward positive signs, and if the signs do turn negative after we say something, we immediately start a sort of negotiation to bring them back to positive.
To me, that was obviously what Lynn (and several others in the book) did, which explains why their answers were so seemingly contradictory. Of course, this wasn't a controlled study in a controlled environment -- Levy was just interviewing women one-on-one out at bars and restaurants and such -- but still. I think to analyze the exact wording these women used when they're clearly editing their responses yields a less-than-accurate conclusion.
The other little critique I have concerns Levy's criticism of women for being sexually promiscuous or adventurous and then saying they are living like a man (as on page 195, for example). She really picks apart this explanation, and to me, it's simple: These women actually mean that they're doing things in a way that society has traditionally billed as male behavior, not that they're actually necessarily doing things the way men do them. Again, picking apart their exact wording without discerning the deeper meaning results in a convenient conclusion for the book, but a less accurate one than actual analysis might have yielded. And some kind of acknowledging head-nod toward that might have been nice.
And now, my least favorite and most favorite passages from the book:
Worst:
pg 179:
"But the stakes are very different for a porn star than for an actor or a journalist, because porn stars are selling something more than a skill: They are giving up the most private part of their being for public consumption."
First of all, what are they giving up? This reminds me of people saying women are "giving up" or "losing" their virginity when they have sex for the first time. Second, and more importantly, wtf is she saying is the most private part of someone's being? To me, someone's thoughts and maybe secret feelings would be the most private part of their being -- not the way their genitals look or whatever it is Levy is saying here. This statement, more than any other in the book, confused the hell out of me. If she's saying their sexuality is the most private part of their being, then her own argument counteracts the idea that they are giving that up when they star in a porn film, because porn is a performance and not necessarily reflective of their actual sexuality (which is certainly true). Maybe I completely misunderstood the intent here, but it stood out to me as strange and unpleasant.
Best:
pg 185-186:
"My father taught me that chopped liver is a delicacy--part of our cultural heritage, something to be savored on festive occasions. To me it will always be smelly cement. But I have always liked anchovies, which not everybody does. I like wearing green, because it suits my skin tone and my self-image. Likewise, certain themes have run through my sexual fantasies since I was very young, just as they now run through my bed. Nobody had to teach me how to want these things, or how to get them.
"Wattleton is right that one way we discover that we like plums or cashmere or oral sex is by being exposed to them. But there is a problem with using porn as a tool for mind expansion. You can see almost any sexual act imaginable if you spend enough time on the Internet, but no matter how much porn you watch you will end up with a limited knowledge of your own sexuality because you still won't know how these things feel. That will depend on who you do them with, what kind of mood you're in when you do, whether you feel safe or scared (or scared in a good way) when you go about it, and so on. The idea that sex can be reduced to fixed components as it is in pornography--blow job, doggie style, money shot, girl-on-girl--is adolescent: first base, second base, all the way. It is ironic that we think of this as adult entertainment. I don't see why we should regard porn as a way to enjoy 'sexuality in all of its explicitness' any more than we consider looking at a chart of the food pyramid to be a feast."
Perfect.
I do think there was a fairly substantial problem of response bias present in the words from some of her interviewees. Obviously I don't know what went on behind the scenes, but the sense I got is that some of these women knew or could intuit Levy's general thesis, and they wanted to reconcile their ideas and lifestyles with that thesis.
The clearest example of this to me is on page 194: Levy analyzes the words of interviewee Lynn, who says she enjoys "titty bars" because she likes "the bored looks on their faces" when the dancers are "just staring up at the ceiling." Levy is confused by this contradiction, wondering why Lynn would take pleasure in "seeing a person wear a compromising costume and watching the tedium of her life unfold." To me, the answer is pretty clear: Lynn probably goes to strip clubs and takes part in raunch culture because she, like many women who do this, thinks it makes her interesting and cool. The women I've known who did these things were women who wanted to seem apart from other women -- better than and cooler than -- especially in the eyes of men.
But when faced with that question of "why?" Lynn didn't want to say "because it makes me seem interesting and cool to dudes." Or, if she actually is turned on by strip clubs, which is certainly possible, then she could obviously tell that the idea of that did not appeal to Levy in the least, so she changed her words to minimize her actual motivations -- once again, to maintain her coolness.
We've all seen it happen when with a group of friends: Someone boldly states they like something -- a comedian or a TV show or a restaurant -- and the majority of the rest of the group quickly comes out against it, making lighthearted fun of the person who originally spoke up. And this forces that first person to minimize or rationalize their enjoyment of that thing in a way that brings them back into harmony with the group. "I like The Bachelor!" "What?? That show is terrible!" "Well, yeah, but I just like it because it's such a train wreck to watch! Imagine the people who actually watch that show because they like it HAHAHA losers!"
I liken it to the negative and positive signs that appear above characters' heads in the game The Sims. We're always working toward positive signs, and if the signs do turn negative after we say something, we immediately start a sort of negotiation to bring them back to positive.
To me, that was obviously what Lynn (and several others in the book) did, which explains why their answers were so seemingly contradictory. Of course, this wasn't a controlled study in a controlled environment -- Levy was just interviewing women one-on-one out at bars and restaurants and such -- but still. I think to analyze the exact wording these women used when they're clearly editing their responses yields a less-than-accurate conclusion.
The other little critique I have concerns Levy's criticism of women for being sexually promiscuous or adventurous and then saying they are living like a man (as on page 195, for example). She really picks apart this explanation, and to me, it's simple: These women actually mean that they're doing things in a way that society has traditionally billed as male behavior, not that they're actually necessarily doing things the way men do them. Again, picking apart their exact wording without discerning the deeper meaning results in a convenient conclusion for the book, but a less accurate one than actual analysis might have yielded. And some kind of acknowledging head-nod toward that might have been nice.
And now, my least favorite and most favorite passages from the book:
Worst:
pg 179:
"But the stakes are very different for a porn star than for an actor or a journalist, because porn stars are selling something more than a skill: They are giving up the most private part of their being for public consumption."
First of all, what are they giving up? This reminds me of people saying women are "giving up" or "losing" their virginity when they have sex for the first time. Second, and more importantly, wtf is she saying is the most private part of someone's being? To me, someone's thoughts and maybe secret feelings would be the most private part of their being -- not the way their genitals look or whatever it is Levy is saying here. This statement, more than any other in the book, confused the hell out of me. If she's saying their sexuality is the most private part of their being, then her own argument counteracts the idea that they are giving that up when they star in a porn film, because porn is a performance and not necessarily reflective of their actual sexuality (which is certainly true). Maybe I completely misunderstood the intent here, but it stood out to me as strange and unpleasant.
Best:
pg 185-186:
"My father taught me that chopped liver is a delicacy--part of our cultural heritage, something to be savored on festive occasions. To me it will always be smelly cement. But I have always liked anchovies, which not everybody does. I like wearing green, because it suits my skin tone and my self-image. Likewise, certain themes have run through my sexual fantasies since I was very young, just as they now run through my bed. Nobody had to teach me how to want these things, or how to get them.
"Wattleton is right that one way we discover that we like plums or cashmere or oral sex is by being exposed to them. But there is a problem with using porn as a tool for mind expansion. You can see almost any sexual act imaginable if you spend enough time on the Internet, but no matter how much porn you watch you will end up with a limited knowledge of your own sexuality because you still won't know how these things feel. That will depend on who you do them with, what kind of mood you're in when you do, whether you feel safe or scared (or scared in a good way) when you go about it, and so on. The idea that sex can be reduced to fixed components as it is in pornography--blow job, doggie style, money shot, girl-on-girl--is adolescent: first base, second base, all the way. It is ironic that we think of this as adult entertainment. I don't see why we should regard porn as a way to enjoy 'sexuality in all of its explicitness' any more than we consider looking at a chart of the food pyramid to be a feast."
Perfect.
sunnyd123's review against another edition
4.0
I would give it 3.5. Agree very much with what was presented - but what’s the alternative! What’s the imagined sexual liberation. would love to have that detailed further. also, interviews with women who ARENT “FCP”s. too selective w the interviewing. I fuck with u though ariel levy. queen