#Supergirl's Flimsy Feminism And The Erasure of Women of Colour in Popular Feminist Narratives

You might not have heard, but Supergirl is all about girl power. Kara Danvers is a girl and her best friend and sister Alex Danvers is a girl. Her romantic rival is Lucy Lane who is a girl and they both work at CatCo. for Cat Grant who is also proudly a girl who built a media empire. In her free time, Kara is Supergirl and many of her foes are girls. In National City, girls are everywhere.

Supergirl as an avatar for 2016 feminism exists largely at a very superficial level that mostly works. The show is bright and sunny and endearing and consciously aware that it in addition to a bunch of cynical (mostly male) television critics, it also has an audience of very young girls. The girl power message is overt and highly unsubtle, but it works when one considers that girls as young as eight aren't necessarily ready for critical feminist theory just yet. Supergirl presents complex ideas about identity and womanhood and how they interact in the larger world in a way that is digestible to young viewers, and I think that's a net benefit.

The only problem? All the girls are white.

In The Corner Of A Dark Room Under A Thick Fog of Smoke: Declarations Of Agency In Rihanna's #ANTI

Over the last decade, Rihanna has cultivated a very specific image of herself. Shifting ceaselessly from cheeky to coy to naked sexuality and back again, Rihanna is the consummate chameleon, changing for the times and evolving when she feels the need to shed her latest skin. Largely, as an audience, we have projected our perceptions onto her. Each new iteration of music, hair and fashion has left just enough room for our own desires to rush in and fill the void. But on ANTI we see exactly what powers the Rihanna machine and she lets us into her head; here is a full body of work that examines every facet of her being and lays it bare on her own terms.

ANTI is peak Rihanna. Endlessly delayed, it's no coincidence that this is Rihanna's most daring and truthful work to date. She waited until it was right; until it reflected her the way she wanted to be seen, and then gave it away for free, ensuring that no one could mistake it for sheer arrogance or braggadocio. ANTI shows a side of badgalriri we've only speculated about before, and untangles the complicated issues of her place in pop culture and how it relates to her sexuality, her blackness and her feminism.

The thing about ANTI is that it almost doesn't work. As a singular entity it makes sense: it is a declaration of her personhood on all fronts. But take it apart and it becomes mush in your hands, exploring disparate ideas all at once with through-lines that are tenuous at best. And yet, the ideas themselves are crystal clear: there is no beating around the bush. Rihanna is here now and she knows exactly why and on what terms she expects for that to happen. Gone are the pulsing club bangers she's built her career on. Instead we're treated to raw, brooding melodies that conjure images of solitary contemplation. The music exists under an eternal thick fog of smoke traced back to a blunt; truths emerging as inhibitions come down.

The opening track, Consideration, (which she co-wrote) is the brash declaration of a new direction. The heavy bass drops deep as Rihanna's voice, higher and clearer than ever before, laments. If it wasn't clear before, it is now. Rihanna is over it, and she's ready to move onto something fresh and new. She's ready to grow and make music that can evolve with her, and she's demanding the space to do so. With that, she sets the tone for the complex delicacy she's about to serve us, combining styles and sounds until she achieves that magic cocktail that hits exactly the right spot.

On Kiss It Better, she taunts an ex, making him admit that he'll take her back no matter what. As guitar riffs sing in the background, Rihanna asserts herself both to him and to us as the audience: "You're always going to come back to me so why fight it?"

Work, the first official single, is a moody dancehall inspired track full of lust and longing. The messaging persists, though here she has convincing to do. The negotiation between disregard and sentiment is delicate, and Rihanna handles it expertly. She wants us to stay, but she doesn't plan to work for it. Slurring through the lyrics, the light disdain is palpable. Should you stay? Rihanna answers "Sure I guess..." She's far more concerned with her own pleasure than she ever will be with you.

On Woo, she's back to taunting, but it's on the deliciously dark and cutting Needed Me where she turns savage. Rihanna may long for company when the sun sets, but she doesn't need it and never did. Here she pointedly cuts her man down, reminding him that she's the one doing all the giving here. She asserts her sexual agency as someone who likes to fuck and is perfectly happy getting it elsewhere should the need arise. Here is the reminder: she's not the one tied to you and she never intends to be. The rejection is unambiguous and swift: "Don't get it twisted. Everything about you is replaceable."

But on Higher, Rihanna is lit and pouring her feelings out. On the all too brief track, her voice strains high and raw as she fights to ensure she gets the words out. She's independent yes, but the moments of loneliness and need still come. She's a savage, but not a loner or a recluse. She too longs for comfort and company, and she'll take it where it comes. The Rihanna amalgam to Adele's Hello, Higher breaks open the shell of the untouchable black woman and exposes the pain too many assume she never feels.

Pose is a return to the Rihanna we know and love. While the sound is new, the lyrics recall the swagger and surety we saw in Pour It Up. Hate if you like, but have a seat while she gets loaded and works it. On Sex With Me she brags about hitting it better than anyone else. On both, she's little concerned with outside validation. Feel free to come along for the ride, but don't expect to be missed if you don't.

*****

Taken together, the disparate parts of ANTI form a cohesive whole. Here is a woman a decade older and wiser, sure of herself and the direction she intends to take her life in. These tracks open her up and lay her bare as a whole person, showing the ways in which conflict can exist in harmony. The music is daring and intimate. She lets us see the strings in a way we never have before, perhaps an effort to undo the "bad bitch" label she has inhabited for so long. It's not that she won't cut you down with a sharply chosen emoji or gif on instagram, it's that there are levels to being Rihanna, and under the surface, there exists more than the "sexy Bajan pop princess" we've come to know and love.

This is the album Rihanna wanted to make rather than the one that we expected from her, but that too shows growth. Her declarations of sexual freedom serve as metaphor for very real freedom: from commercial constraints or a continued need to prove her staying power. She's established herself as a powerhouse and her legacy is set. Now she seeks out experimentation and nuance.

ANTI may be less radio friendly and traditional, but that is the point. This is not establishment. This is her truest self in music form and it's anti-everything. There are none of her usual themes and no pop hits. Rihanna has set herself firmly in opposition to not only to her own past musical ethos, but to the very music industry itself.

About "Only" Representations of Women In Pop Culture

When it comes to women in pop culture, it's often hard to find the right balance. There are so few female characters being written into the media that we consume that inadvertently, each individual female character becomes an avatar for every other woman in that universe. She's the only one, therefore she's every one. But eradicating the smurfette principle altogether isn't all that difficult. There's an easy fix:

If you don’t want your female character to represent all women, then she can’t be the only woman around. If you want your female character to make stereotypical mistakes and avoid accusations of misogyny, then you have to have other female characters around not making those mistakes.

It's such a simple idea, and yet so many pop culture products still seem to struggle with it. And the curious thing is that it applies to all underrepresented groups in fiction. When you have several different variations of the way that men are allowed to exist in your universe and only one way that women are allowed to exist, criticisms will necessarily fall on that character, because she is now tasked with being everything to everyone looking to see themselves in that piece of media.

It's reflective of the backlash to the characterization of Black Widow in 2015's Avengers: Age of Ultron, and the implication that she was was also a "monster" because she was infertile. While Black Widow's feelings about her forced sterilization and her guilt over her time as a spy are valid and reasonable, they become the representative way that all women in that universe are meant to view romance and fertility because she is the only female Avenger, and the most significant female character in the film and the larger Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Another example is the discussion surrounding Claire Dearing in 2015's Jurassic Park and the fact that she wore high heels throughout the entire film, despite being chased by (literal) dinosaurs. In the context of the film, the fact that nothing is said of her trekking through the jungle and running from a T-Rex in 5 inch heels makes her character seems silly and prideful. And that doesn't take into account the shaming that she endured throughout the film for not being able to relate well to her two young nephews, or to make a relationship work with the cocky hero. It's implied that Claire, is silly, prideful, frigid and a terrible mother, and no other significant female characters exist in the film to individualize that supposition. Contrast this with the Ilsa Faust character in Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation. While running away from a gunman across a rooftop with hero Ethan Hunt, she specifically asks him to help her get her heels off so that their getaway is not compromised.

In the end, it all comes down to the danger of a single story. As author Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche said in her famous Ted Talk, the problem isn't that stereotypes are not true, but rather that they are not the whole truth, and they don't give us a full picture of the complexities of the people around us. When you only have one of something, or in this case, someone, everything about them becomes the default of their kind, simply by virtue of being alone. It's why diversity in media is important from the top come down. When you have more than one female character, each of them becomes an individual with their own quirks and personalities that stand apart from other women. The weight of expectation is lifted, and it allows for some of them to fail, or be clichés, because there are other characters that can contradict that characterization.

A great example? Last year, two shows starring black women were cancelled: Minority Report and Extant. And while I will miss both of those shows, I'm not worried about seeing myself onscreen, because other, complex black women still exist on television on Scandal, Sleepy Hollow, How to Get Away With Murder, Empire and Blackish. Because neither of these characters is the only one, we're able to get diverse representations of black women, from severely damaged lawyers with compromised ethics, to FBI agents battling the paranormal, to loud, brash music executives who just want to leave their mark on the world.

None of them is telling the only story.

Best of BattyMamzelle: Top 5 Essays of 2015

Third time's a charm! As I'm stepping into 2016, I want to take some time to look back at what I produced last year, and to take stock of the issues that matter to me. I didn't do nearly as much writing as I would have liked last year because I was back on a 9-5 schedule, but I still manage to produce essays that I'm proud of, two of which helped me get that Bitch Media Fellowship! So here they are in descending order: the 5 essays I'm most proud of writing this year.

5. #ShameOnShonda Is Bullshit: On Black Women, Mental Health And Intersectionality

"In this episode, Shonda presents these two women, these two mothers and contrasts the way their mental well-being and mental health is approached. The black mother, who had been exhibiting signs that something might be medically wrong for some time, was treated to scorn, disdain and judgement, even by the doctors who were supposed to be treating her. The white mother, who had just received devastating news about her unborn child, was immediately coddled to the point of condescension in the rush to ensure that she was okay."

4. Rape, Consent and Race in Marvel's #JessicaJones

"On the other hand, the treatment of people of colour in Jessica Jones is often anti-intersectional and openly anti-black. Vulture's year end "Best of Television" list cites the show as demonstrating "a racially diverse cast, heavy on women," a construction that belies that for many people, diversity means "add black men and stir." To me, it is borderline disrespectful to call the show racially diverse when the only significant, named woman of colour character is dead before the narrative begins and never speaks a word, while the black male characters are all subjected to incredible violence in service of the white female protagonist. This force frames feminist representation as the representation of white women and yet again, erases women of colour from our popular narratives."

3. Viola Davis, Cultivation Theory and the 2015 #Emmy Awards

"And these women? These beautiful dark-skinned women with broad noses and big lips and kinky hair? It wasn't them. It was strategically not meant to be them. They were purposefully removed from the definition of womanhood much less anything else. So these wins? These statues? This acknowledgement of talent? It matters. It shows that when you even the playing field just a little bit; when you actually allow people of colour to compete with whiteness by creating opportunities for them to show what they can do? They win."

2. How To Be A Bad Bitch Who Recognizes The Intersections Of Amber Rose's Feminism

"Why is it so hard for us to imagine that this book may not be for us? That is speaks to an experience than many of us may never have? We who are lucky enough to be safe and warm with access to education and employment we enjoy? Why doesn't it occur to us that all those women that we look down on need someone to look to, to help them navigate the realities that many of us refuse to even acknowledge exist? Is it really still this difficult to understand that different women are empowered by different things and that everyone's feminism is different? Why are we so determined to find ways to create a hierarchy within the movement that values some women over others?"

1. I'm Sick To Death Of Talking About Rape Tropes In Fiction

"What did that scene add that we didn't already know? Did the writers think that cutting Theon's penis off was too subtle to indicate Ramsay's sadism? Did they think the brutal murder of her mother and brother were not strong enough motivators for Sansa to want revenge against the Boltons? Could they not conceive of a single other way in which Theon might be able to mentally recenter himself? What about this particular rape scene added such probative narrative value that it had to be transposed from one character to another even as the original victim is excised from the story? All it was is more rape on a show already replete with rape, for the sake of having rape. None of this is new information."

***** ***** *****

Last year, I hoped to spend time getting my voice heard online and I think I succeed. I was quoted in the LA Times, I was a guest on the Black Girl Dangerous Podcast, I was republished at Bitch Flicks, and by some miracle I  received the Bitch Media Writer's Fellowship. For 2016, I hope to finish up grad school, write amazing things under the tutelage of the Bitch Media editors, and to get to New York to meet all the amazing writers I've learned so much from online. Here's to a productive new year.

Rape, Consent and Race in Marvel's #JessicaJones

Marvel's Jessica Jones is the latest, best example of white feminist fiction: excellent on sexism, terrible on racism. There are a lot of great things about this series that speak directly to the ills that women face on a daily basis. Kilgrave, the central villain, is chillingly terrifying, specifically because the only difference between him and your garden variety abuser is his total power to enact his will. The examination of male entitlement in ways both large and small (by contrasting Kilgrave and Simpson for example) are excellent and poignant. But as I watched the 13 episode first season, I was struck by how callously black people's lives were treated on the show, rendered into convenient plot devices in service of the white female protagonist's character development. As a black woman viewing the show, it was easy to see that the active pursuit of liberation from abuse was not a struggle that this show believes includes me (an ongoing struggle for Marvel). Ironically, the best parts of the show are its treatment with its villain, while the worst are its treatments with its female anti-heroine.

While I do have several critiques of the show, there were a number of things that I thought were handled exceptionally well. Firstly, this is a show driven by women about the fears and terrors that women must navigate in the world shrunk down to a micro-level, enabling us an intimate look at the various levels of abuse women routinely endure. The contrast between Kilgrave and Simpson is genius, as it helps demonstrate the full scale of abuse that men knowingly and unknowingly enact on the women around them. The two men are flip-sides of the same coin. While Kilgrave simply takes what he feels he is entitled to by means of his powers of enhanced persuasion, Simpson intially takes a less forceful but no less sinister approach, exemplified in his treatment of Trish after he realizes that Kilgrave has compelled him to murder her. As Stephanie Yang writes in a Bitch Magazine review:

The warning signs are there early on. Under Kilgrave's control, Simpson assaults Trish inside her own apartment. Once Kilgrave's control wears off, he's wracked with guilt and comes back to apologize. The problem is that Trish doesn't want Simpson's apology; she wants him to just leave. Trish doesn't want to be reminded that she was attacked in her own home, or feel trapped by her own high-end security system while her attacker lingers outside. But Simpson is insistent, sitting in her hallway and talking to her through the intercom. Simpson makes his apology about his needs and his absolution, not about Trish's needs, safety or mental health. It's entirely understandable, but it's still wrong. 

Simpson and Kilgrave certainly have different motivation for their destructive actions. But as Jessica points out, intent doesn't matter. Their actions and consequences are what matter. That's an important distinction that needs to be made at a time when courts and media alike dismiss many real-life cases of abuse because the abuser "couldn't know" what they were doing was wrong. Violence is a symptom of a culture that indulges bad behavior as being inherently and unavoidably part of masculinity, or even a romantic expression of desire and protectiveness.

I would go a step further and name Simpson's insistent apologies to Trish as outright abusive on their face, specifically because they prioritize his need for absolution over her need to heal. Trish is the victim in the situation, and yet Simpson manages to find a way to center himself in the story of this trauma. As with Kilgrave and Jessica, Simpson's abuse is rooted not in a cartoonish hatred of women as we are often led to believe, but rather in prioritizing his own will and desires over Trish's.

"She Called Them Anti-Seed": How The Women of Mad Max: Fury Road Divorce Violence From Strength

Imperator Furiosa and the Five Wives look down upon the Citadel.

"Strong female character."

It's a phrase we hear over and over in pop culture, usually in reference to a female character in an action movie who has lots of guns. "Strong female characters" know how to fight, know how to use weapons and they best all the boys in confrontation. "Strong Female Characters" are effectively measured by their capacity for violence and their competence in the theatre of war.

But what does it mean when we equate strength with violence on a cultural level, and especially in relation to women's place in society?

In Mad Max: Fury Road, the "strong female characters" are notable specifically for their aversion to violence. The film portrays its women as emotionally strong people who engage in violence only in self-defense, and only against the system that oppresses them.

The film is set in a post-apocalyptic future desert wasteland where women have been reduced to various forms of slavery and their value is determined by what their bodies can produce. Whether it be breastmilk or babies, women's position in this world is determined by their physical utility to the oppressive system they occupy. Furiosa is the notable exception, an Imperator who has presumably worked her way up the ranks of Immortan Joe's highly patriarchal and hyper-masculine cultish new social order.

How To Be A Bad Bitch Who Recognizes The Intersections Of Amber Rose's Feminism

Amber Rose's new book How To Be A Bad Bitch dropped yesterday and already the white girls are circling, having taken issue with some of the advice Amber gives in the book. While I do think that some of the excerpts from the book are troubling (or at least, don't speak to me), it bothers me that mainstream feminism (read: white feminism) always seems to reserve this kind of intense scrutiny for women of colour. It took conservative media outlets to call Lena Dunham out for the problematic passages in her recent memoir (while feminist publications defended them) and white feminists are still passing around the deeply racist quote from Tina Fey's 2011 outing, Bossypants as a self-empowerment mantra.

Now I'm not saying that Amber shouldn't be criticized. She should. Feminism has never meant that women shouldn't be held accountable when they fuck up. Sometimes we as women make mistakes and I consider it our duty as fellow women in the feminist struggle to help course correct each other when we stray. But we need to be consistent about holding each other's hands to the fire. It's just another unfortunate side-effect of the racial divide in feminism that sees us demonize women of colour when they fuck up, but grasp at every straw imaginable to give white women a pass.

At the very least, we should try not to condescend to each other and try to give criticism in good faith. Refinery29's review of Amber's book took an incredibly nasty approach, upbraiding Rose for what they saw as feminist failings. The intro to the piece discloses that Amber abruptly cancelled a scheduled interview with the publication, and it's hard to see the harsh language as anything more than retaliation for the inconvenience.

Viola Davis, Cultivation Theory and the 2015 #Emmy Awards

Viola Davis accepts her Emmy Award for Outstanding Actress in a Drama at the 2015 Emmy Awards.

I won't pretend I didn't cry this morning. 

I didn't watch the Emmys live last night, so waking up to the news that not only did Viola Davis win herself an Emmy (as I predicted back when she de-wigged on primetime), but two other black women, (Regina King for American Crime and Uzo Aduba for Orange is the New Black) had also left with trophies, has left me floating on a cloud of #blackgirlmagic that has lasted the entire day.

But it has also left me thinking long and hard about why these victories matter on a sociopolitical level. 

I'm currently working on my dissertation for my MA in Mass Communications and I came across a theory recently that I plan to explore in depth. My dissertation focuses on portrayals of rape and sexual assault in American primetime television, but it struck me how relevant the theory is to discussions of racial diversity.

The theory is "cultivation theory" and in layman's terms, it means that over time, people begin to believe that the television universe reflects real life. Essentially, people who watch lots of TV begin to see the social reality of fiction as an accurate account of real life. 

"The primary proposition of cultivation theory states that the more time people spend 'living' in the television world, the more likely they are to believe the social reality portrayed on television." Cultivation leaves people with a misperception of what is true in our world." -Cohen, J.; Weimann, G. (2000). "Cultivation Revisited: Some Genres Have Some Effects on Some Viewers". Communication Reports 13 (2): 99–114.

I hope you can see where I'm going with this...

#MileyWhatsGood?: Nicki Minaj Destroys The Male Gaze Via Overt Sexual Expression

Editor's Note: The author of this essay originally approached me for permission to cite one of my pieces in her college paper. After I read the final draft, I immediately asked to republish it here because it does an excellent job of distilling the very ideas about Nicki Minaj's brand of feminism that I have been espousing for some time now. In light of last night's MTV VMA's and the continued racist framing of Nicki Minaj as a "savage" and "angry" black woman threatening the purity and safety of white female celebrities like Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus, I thought it was timely to remind people that Nicki Minaj's praxis may be sexual and it may be loud and it may not be polite, but it is still a feminist expression for her to assert her right to protect herself from racism, sexism and misogynoir in the industry, even and especially when it is perpetuated by other women. It is a fantastic read, and I can't wait to read more from her.

*****

Nicki Minaj is a lot of things: the highest selling female rapper of all time, an artist in the midst of a world-tour for her latest album, The Pinkprint, and most importantly, an icon for women everywhere. On August 19, 2014, Nicki Minaj released the music video for the song “Anaconda” and soon the internet exploded. The video garnered immediate critique for being hypersexual, all while stacking up nearly 500,000,000 views on Youtube. But to women all over, the video, like many Nicki Minaj videos before it, was empowering andprofoundly feminist. Through the course of Minaj’s career, her overt sexuality has given her the perfect platform to subvert the male stares it beckons. Nicki Minaj feminism is dependent on overt sexuality as a device to subvert the male gaze and achieve ultimate sexual empowerment.

The music video for “Anaconda” is one that celebrates the same body-type Sir Mix-a-Lot praised in the rather unambiguously titled classic, “I Like Big Butts:” curvy derrieres and itty-bitty waists.  Nicki twerks on and around other women who all share with her curvy physique, but makes it clear that her sexuality is a mechanism via which she achieves empowerment, and not a device solely used for attracting the male gaze. The first way in which she does this comes in the fact that no men appear in the video (besides Drake, but we’ll get to that later). Historically (and still to this day), many male rappers have been inclined to feature women dancing on and around them in their music videos. They objectify them, and seemingly treat them as toys for pleasure, easily disposable and replaceable. In “Anaconda,” however, Nicki flips the script on that trope. While the women featured around her, next to her, under and over her, are all dancing and shaking in similar fashion to videos that are ultimately degrading, because Nicki Minaj joins in, she effectively reclaims a position used by male rappers to objectify. Nicki not only joins her dancers, she leads and encourages them in a way that can only empower them. Instead of becoming objects to a male rapper’s desires, Nicki allows herself and the women around her to take charge of their own sexualities, shaking and dancing together, autonomously for themselves. 

Even further than that, Nicki and company dance for an audience made up hugely in part, by women. The idea that women dancing (erotically) for themselves and for other women in an attempt to gain back some control of their sexuality isn’t new to feminism. ML Johnson argues that these sort of spaces can give way to “heterosexuality without heterosexism,” and that women experiencing these spaces can explore a world that enjoys “less restrictive gender roles" [3]. In the context of “Anaconda,” Nicki Minaj and her dancers seem to do just that, simply by taking control of how they express themselves sexually, and without a male present on screen. And, “while the centrality of the display of sexual attractiveness is generic, and, as such, not in itself raced or gendered, the specific ways in which sexual attractiveness is articulated in the pop music video is, however, mediated through and determined by common-sense notions of appropriate gendered and raced behavior [3].

In Defense of Molly Weasley: The Oft Forgotten Heroine of the Potterverse

As a lifelong Potterhead, I've read the entire Harry Potter series several times now, and I love being able to find something new about the characters each time I revisit them. Every time I reread the novels it's like coming home to a set of people who know and love you, and can't wait to make you feel welcome again. But now that the series is over, all the pieces are in place, and there's more time for reflection of the story's major themes and players, I've been bummed to see that Molly Weasley often gets overlooked in the lists of significant actors, and I want to take some time to point out why we all suck for disregarding her contributions.

Molly Weasely is a witch, homemaker, and mother of seven children. She consistently finds a way to provide for them on her husband's meager income plus a little clever magic and she never complains. She loves them fiercely and worries as any mother would. But she's also a fierce warrior who made a significant contribution to the downfall of the Dark Lord that I think gets overlooked too often: She gave Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, a place he could call home.

It's often very au courant in feminism to discount housewives as not making a significant contribution to the world and I can admit that I am sometimes guilty of that too. But rearing children is important work, and nurturing the hearts and minds of the tiny people who will later grow up to be contributing members of society isn't something to be taken lightly. I think this fact is especially significant in the Potterverse as it is Molly's warmth and love that help ground Harry as he battles his darkest demons, and tries to find his place within a larger magical plot that was set in motion the night his parents died.

In many ways, it is just as much Molly's mothering instincts as Dumbledore's council that sets Harry on the path of redemption as The Chosen One. On that first day boarding the Hogwarts Express on Platform 9 3/4, despite having four boys of her own currently enrolled, Molly makes Harry feel welcome and ushers him through his first solo encounter with magic. Over the years she sends him handmade sweaters catered to his likes and interests, and never forgets a Christmas or birthday. Picking up on the Dursleys' neglect, she invites him over to stay at the Burrow for weeks at a time every year, feeding him and providing for him out of the scant resources available to her own family. She mothers him and loves because she knows that he needs it, sometimes against his wishes. She sacrifices her own sense of safety to make sure that he is safe and cared for. And that doesn't even comes close to the fact that she raised seven children who were loyal and brave, all of whom came back to help him fight Lord Voldemort when the night was darkest. She killed one of his most loyal followers. She lost a son in his war.

Molly Weasley didn't have to give Harry anything, but she gave him everything anyway and lived to be the matriarch of a wide and happy family, safe from the threats that she had faced twice in one lifetime. She gave Harry a mother he could always come home to, and in that way, she's just as important as The Boy Who Lived.

Mad Max: Fury Road And The Great Feminism Debate

After all the hoopla, debate, and thinkpieces, I finally saw Mad Max: Fury Road last night and it did not disappoint. The movie was a masterpiece of the senses and totally overwhelmed me with how engaging it was on all fronts. By about 15 minutes in I was at the edge of my seat whispering "this is amazing. This is AMAZING!" to myself. Basically, I loved it. I'm listening to the soundtrack as I type this.

But aside from its prestige, the other reason this film has been generating so much press is because of its overt feminist themes. Early reviews praised it for it's feminism, and MRAs called for a boycott. The director George Miller noted that he hadn't set out to make a feminist film, but things had unfolded that way organically as the story progressed:

"There wasn't a feminist agenda... The thing people were chasing was to be not an object, but the five wives. I needed a warrior. But it couldn't be a man taking five wives from another man. That's an entirely different story. So everything grew out of that."

Additionally, much ado was made of the fact that feminist playwright, Eve Ensler was a consultant on set to talk about her work in the Congo. That in itself gave me reason to doubt the film's growing feminist cred be honest. Eve Ensler does not have the best track record of inclusion and her "work" in the Congo specifically was insensitive and reprehensible.

So what do I think now that I've seen it for myself?

Millennial: (Re)Define Your Line

Screencap from Millennial Podcast

It's the 1st of June. On the 11th, I'll be 25. That's a big deal to me.

Twenty-five has always been my "big number." I'm not sure why, but that was the number I had in my head that signified proper adulthood. It was the age at which I assumed I would emerge, fully formed, as a brilliant, capable and functional member of society, dutifully trekking along the path to my dreams.

But.... I think I'm starting to realize I don't actually know what my dreams are anymore.

Last week, completely by chance, I stumbled upon the link to the new podcast Millennial by Megan Tan. As of right now, there are four episodes available and I swallowed them whole. In a little over an hour, Tan takes you from her graduation to the transition to post grad millennial life, to realizing that her childhood was in fact over, to moving in with her boyfriend, to her job as a waitress, to her decision to start the podcast, to the lethargy of feeling stuck, to the realization that the only way to get stuff done is to got out and do it. 

In episode #2, Living On The Line, Tan discusses the need to find the line that takes you to where you want to be in life and stick to it; but before you can follow your line, you have to define it. That really resonated with me. It made me think of something that I always say when conversations about women "having it all" come up: You get to define what "all" means to you. And then you get to go get it. I have to define my line.

When I started college, I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be a fashion and celebrity photographer, routinely published in all the great magazines. I wanted to write and see my words printed on glossy paper and my name in the masthead. I wanted to work in magazines. I was clear on that. It was all I wanted in the world, and while I was in college, I took measurable steps towards achieving it.

Now I'm not so sure.

Working in magazines is still something that I desperately want. When I first got back, I sent out resumés to all the local magazines, I offered to intern for free and I started freelancing. I did everything I could think of to try to jumpstart my glossy paper dreams. But after a couple years of stagnating and realizing that there simply wasn't a huge fashion market in Trinidad, I started to become disillusioned. I started thinking that I'd never have the chance to see my name printed on a masthead, and I started slowly chipping away at my dreams; diminishing my expectations for myself.

Now I'm nearly 25. I'm almost supposed to be a brilliant, dazzling magazine editor for whom the novelty of a masthead has worn off. But I'm not. And I've come to terms with the fact that the plan I thought I had for myself isn't what I'm going to get in this life. But it doesn't mean that my dreams aren't achievable. It just means I have to redefine my line.

Over the last two years I've managed to gather a little following online for my writing and essays on feminism. I'm not amazing and I'm certainly no authority on anything but my own experience, but I know enough to write confidently about the things I care about and have people listen. I've had my work published in a few places that I admire. I was invited to speak at a conference (though sadly I had to turn it down). I've made some strides. Not huge strides. Not amazing strides. But strides that tell me that I'm going somewhere, even if I hadn't yet figured out where that was. After listening to the podcast, I think I know where I'm going now, and I want to redefine my line.

My professional goal is to be a feminist writer and critic. I want to be paid to discuss and dissect pop culture and media from a feminist perspective. I do it here on this blog all the time, and it turns out, I don't suck at it. I want my words to mean something and I want to use them to help effect change. Maybe someday I'll write a book. Who knows?

My line is writing. As much as I love photography and plan to continue shooting, writing is what I truly feel compelled to do. So now that I've defined my line, I can make a plan. This month I'm going to make it a priority to start pitching and to get paid for publishing at least one piece. I'm going to submit to publications where I think my voice would be a good fit. And I'm going to apply to the Buzzfeed Writer's Fellowship. I'm going to start taking measurable steps to get to where I want to be.

I think I've found my line.

I'm Sick To Death Of Talking About Rape Tropes In Fiction

Sansa Stark (Sophie Turner) and Ramsay Bolton (Iwan Rheon) in Game of Thrones S5 E6: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

I'm sick of talking about rape.

Forcible rape, date rape, grey rape, acquaintance rape, spousal rape, statutory rape and now fictional rape. I'm sick to death of explaining why the callous rape of women and girls in media is a very bad thing for our culture and why we should cut it out. *wags finger*

This Game of Thrones storyline is just the latest in a long line of excuses and equivocations for why the depiction of brutal and gendered violence against women is a storytelling necessity. People are sticking their heels in on both sides but to me the moral position is clear: there is nothing to be gained from lazy representations of rape in a media landscape that already devalues women and reduces them to objects and property.

Now I've read the arguments in favour of the narrative value of Sansa's rape. That it showed that Ramsay was a sadist. That it would help Theon come back to himself and help Sansa escape. That it would motivate Sansa to seek vengeance. But it's all bullshit.

What did that scene add that we didn't already know? Did the writers think that cutting Theon's penis off was too subtle to indicate Ramsay's sadism? Did they think the brutal murder of her mother and brother were not strong enough motivators for Sansa to want revenge against the Boltons? Could they not conceive of a single other way in which Theon might be able to mentally recenter himself? What about this particular rape scene added such probative narrative value that it had to be transposed from one character to another even as the original victim is excised from the story? All it was is more rape on a show already replete with rape, for the sake of having rape. None of this is new information.

And it's not that rape should never be represented in fiction. Rape is everywhere. It's unfortunately an all too real danger of the world we live in. But it's not as though there is some dearth of rape representation in media. Using rape as a narrative tool is lazy, and especially so when it's invoked this many times in the same show. We are now at three female characters (all of whom are considered major point of view characters in the novels) who have been raped in the series, two of whom weren't raped in the source material. It's just rapes on rapes on rapes up in this bitch...

#ShameOnShonda Is Bullshit: On Black Women, Mental Health And Intersectionality

via IB Times

This morning, there was grumbling on my twitter timeline about the storyline of last night's episode of Grey's Anatomy. A hashtag, #ShameOnShonda, had been started in protest of what was perceived as a stigmatization of mothers with post-partum depression, or PPD. In the story, a black woman had driven her two children into a lake, almost killing them, and causing a major traffic accident in which other people were also injured. Many of the doctors of the show speculated about what kind of mother she must be to have tried to harm her kids. One doctor in particular, April Kepner (pictured above), who is heavily pregnant, deeply religious and had just found out her fetus suffers from Osteogenesis Imperfecta (brittle bone disease) was especially severe in her condemnation of the mother's actions. In the end, it was revealed that the mother had a tumor of sorts on her pancreas that explained her behaviour and her escalating symptoms before the accident. The mother was neither "crazy" nor evil; she was ill.

To me, the episode was very clearly commentary on the differences between the relationship of black women and white women to mental health and motherhood. (Expertly complemented by the relationships of black and white women to each other on How To Get Away With Murder later that night.) I tweeted about the misinterpretation of the episode earlier today (storify below) but I wanted to expound on some of those thoughts in a longer post.

Best of BattyMamzelle: Top 10 Essays of 2014

It's that time again! The new year is upon us, but as is tradition, I wanted to take some time to look back at some of the essays I wrote last year that I'm particularly proud of or that I thought made a significant impact, in the spirit of feigned introspection. Quite a lot happened in the feminist blogosphere last year, and while I didn't write about all of it, I'm proud of the contributions I did make. Back in November I started my Masters Program in Mass Communications, and one of the things I've learned is that media is so important to the way we perceive the world. So while some might think my focus on "pop feminism" is trivial, I know that it's one of the most important battlegrounds of diverse representation in culture. So here, in descending order are the ten essays I wrote in 2014 that I consider to be my best, even if I am a little late to publish!

10. This Year In White Feminism: Greatest Hits of 2014 (Parts One & Two)

The point of this post is simply to show that anti-intersectionality is a continued pattern of disregard for women of colour, and that when we bring this to your attention, we aren't making it up. White feminism loves to ask for receipts. It loves to gaslight and diminish us. It loves to pretend that our concerns are irrelevant or insignificant. Hopefully this list will serve as a reminder that black women, native women, poor women, trans women are feminists too, and we'd like to be allowed to be part of a movement that claims to advocate for our well-being.

9. Let's Talk About Robin Thicke's Manipulative Ploy To "Get Her Back"

It's lovely that Robin Thicke thinks his marriage is worth saving, but this is not the way to go about it. This entire album, the track names, the hashtag; if this is in fact a sincere effort to "get her back" it's basically a how-to on abuser dynamics. Rather than allowing Patton the time and space to decide whether or not to reconcile in private, with this album, Thicke has effectively enlisted the public to get on his side and pressure her into going back to him, and make her the villain if she refuses. "Oh, but he wrote a whole album about her! He's really sorry!"All while he rakes in the cash, and she loses her resolve to stay away from a man who cheated on her, publicly embarrassed her and ruined a decades long relationship.

8. In Defense of Kim Kardashian (And Her Vogue Cover)

Kim Kardashian might have become famous because of a sex tape, but she stayed famous because she parlayed that notoriety into "respectable" business ventures. She's a business woman; a fact that too many people seem far too reluctant to acknowledge. You don't have to like her, but you do have to respect her and her tactical acumen. Kim Kardashian is in the business of being a celebrity, and it's a game she and her family play very well. We created the demand for a celebrity just like her by continuing to consume what she creates. We don't get to then turn our noses up at her because she got good at getting us.

This Year In White Feminism: Greatest Hits of 2014 (Part Two)

And we're back with Part Two! This year was so awash with white feminist fuckery that I had to compile two lists! Isn't that just delightful fun? Thankfully I'm in a pretty good mood today because I finally got my copy of Roxane Gay's Bad Feminist and there's very little that can bring me down, but this post is already two days late, so let's get down to business. There's much more fuckery to mock and cry over. Don't forget to check out Part One!

*****

11. Emma Watson Thinks Feminism Should Be Nicer To Men: Back in September, real life S.P.E.W. member Emma Watson gave a speech at the UN advocating for the HeforShe "Solidarity for Gender Equality" movement. The speech was a direct appeal to men to get involved in the fight for gender equality because of the varying ways that the patriarchy hurts men too. She asked me to think of their sisters, wives and daughters, and the mainstream media ate that shit up. But as good as Emma's intentions were (and I genuinely believe they were good) her speech once again asked us to centre men in a movement meant to benefit women. It also ignored an intersectional approach that would have focused more resources to help women of colour and poor and working class women, in favour of... making sure men felt more welcome. While I don't remember who said it first, (I think I first heard it from Roxane Gay, but if you know for sure, let me know!) [EDIT: I'm told it was actually Kelly Temple!] I think it's important to remember that men shouldn't be asking us to make feminist spaces more comfortable for them. They should taking the spaces they occupy in the world, and making them feminist. Emma's speech asked us to make nice with men instead of asking men to make nice with us.

12. Feminist T-Shirts Made by Economically Depressed Women of Colour: Speaking of intersectionality, while Hermione was asking us to be nice to men and posing for pictures, women in Mauritius were being paid a dollar an hour to fabricate the feminist credentials of many of our favourite celebrities. In other words, hundreds of women were being subjected to unfit working conditions and ushered into the vicious cycle of poverty, while Cumberbatch pointed at his face. Nice. This is one of the reasons that intersectionality is so important. While in the West we might think getting people to identify as  feminists is all it takes, there are women with concerns that are far more pressing; like earning a living wage. Parading their feminism does exactly squat for them, and shaming women who are living paycheck to paycheck for not wanting to align themselves with a movement that has yet to show that it is at all concerned with their interests in bullshit.

13. Lena Dunham Doesn't Pay: During promotion for her book tour, it was revealed that Lena Dunham was not paying the people hired to perform at her appearances, despite the tour being virtually sold out. But don't worry, she changed her mind after she was publicly shamed!

14. Annie Lennox Thinks Lynching Is Universal: Expertly following up her intersectional feminist fail, earlier in the promotion cycle for her new album, Annie Lennox discussed her cover of Strange Fruit, saying:

It's a human theme that has gone on for time immemorial. It's expressed in all kinds of different ways, whether it be racism, whether it be domestic violence, whether it be warfare, or a terrorist act, or simply on person attacking another person in a separate incident.

Ms. Lennox, I'm gonna need you to stop. Strange Fruit is not a metaphor. It is not a broad song that covers all kinds of injustice. It is literally a song about black people being lynched by white people. It's right there in the lyrics. There is zero room for interpretation. For a white artist to cover this song and then try to whitewash it's meaning is active violence against the memory of the African-American people who lost their life due to the deep seated racism of white Americans. There is no generalizing that experience. It is not universal. Annie Lennox can have several seats.

This Year In White Feminism: Greatest Hits of 2014 (Part One)

In January, I wrote a monster essay defining the way I use the term "white feminism." A phenomenon that goes by many names, white feminism is essentially the practice of centering the issues that disproportionately affect white, middle-class western women, while specifically and intentionally excluding or ignoring the often more pressing issues that affect the women who do not meet this criteria, namely women of colour. "White feminism" is feminism without intersectionality. That's it. That's all it is.

And yet, white feminists still don't get it. 

Nearly a year later, the mainstream white feminist media still fiercely and disproportionately protects whiteness, causing active harm to women of colour. I got a lot of pushback on that essay because my use of the term "white feminist" was perceived as racist and exclusionary, but frankly I don't give a fuck. Watching feminist discourse unfold online over the last year has reinforced for me that white feminism is dangerous and has no place in the movement. Actively harmful and violent shit happened time after time after time, and those of us who called it out were shouted down as divisive, race-baiting, jealous and toxic.

Everyone's praxis is different, but as Flavia Dzodan once said, "My feminism will be intersectional, or it will be bullshit." So in no particular order, here's part one of the greatest hits list of all the ways that white feminism was bullshit this year.

1. Saartjie Baartman: The Original Booty Queen: In one of the more egregious examples of disregard for the painful history of sexualization that black women were subjected to, Jezebel published a guest essay which posited that Saartjie Baartman, also known as the Hottentot Venus, was actually a "diva" and "illegal immigrant" who used her body to "strike it rich." The problems with the essay are too numerous to name, and "revisionist" doesn't even cover it.

2. Amanda Marcotte Advocates Incarceration Rape Victims to Force Compliance: Because further traumatizing a rape victim by subjecting them to legal sanctions and jail is exactly the way we encourage more victims to speak up about their assaults. Marcotte's assertion is that putting the rapist in jail is more important that catering to the well-being of the victim, but considering that few rapists are ever prosecuted or even charged, is it really okay to prioritize what has proven to be an ineffective legal system over the mental and physical well-being of the victim of the crime?

3. The Art Center College Thinks Beyoncé is Hijacking Feminism: The racial divide in the feminist movement is nothing new, and the targeting of Beyoncé's feminism in particular has been a favourite white feminist past time in 2014, but ACC sunk to a new low when it published the course description for a class called "Pretty Hurts" that not only called Beyoncé's feminism into question, but implied she had no right to identify with the movement at all because her husband "is a pimp." It was yet another blow in the ongoing struggle between white and black feminists, and was rightfully recognized as an institutional attempt to separate feminism from blackness.

For Feminists Who Resort To Racism When Slut Shaming Is Not Enough

White Feminists, we need to have a chat about this unruly beast we call feminism, and the intersection of race and sexuality. I like to assume that you mean well, but you've been fucking up quite a bit in the last few months, and I think it's my duty as your presumptive sister-in-arms to do some minor course correcting for all our sakes.

Beyoncé has been Beyoncé-ing for over a year now and you're still questioning her feminist credentials because her praxis doesn't match yours. Nicki Minaj has been vocal about her feminism for years but you revoked her credentials because she made a video about her exquisitely crafted rear end and rapped about the men who want to fuck her. To me, all that debate sounded a lot like judgement of other women for the way they chose to express their sexuality. This really confuses me because I thought that sexual agency was a cornerstone of contemporary feminist thought. After all, a woman's body is her own, and what she chooses to do with it or how she chooses to exercise and experience her sexuality is up to her alone.

Except, apparently, if you're black.

I'm seeing a trend of people labeling any sexual black female as an anti-feminist sexualized object & not discussing the nuances of agency.
— Michelle Huxtable (@MichelleHux) September 16, 2014

I've spent the last few months reading piece after piece and comment after comment decrying Beyoncé and Nicki for catering to the male gaze with no acknowledgement that agency plays a significant role in how perforative sexuality becomes. I've read thinkpiece after thinkpiece about why these two women are detrimental to the feminist movement because they take pleasure in exploring and embracing their sexuality publicly. The main issue that keeps cropping is the male gaze. Supposedly, because Beyoncé and Nicki perform in ways that are traditionally sexy, they must be performing for the male gaze, and doing so is decidedly unfeminist.

Well here's where your lesson starts white ladies, because I'm about to drop a truth bomb: the fact that something appeals to the male gaze, does not mean that it exists for the male gaze. It's really as simple as that.

a feminism that centers men is not feminism at all
— Tracy Clayton (@brokeymcpoverty) September 21, 2014

anyway. you can't make feminism all about men. you cant let it revolve around how men respond or what they see/think
— Tracy Clayton (@brokeymcpoverty) September 21, 2014

I know. Totally revolutionary right?

As I've said before, framing every instance of females sexuality from the perspective of the male gaze is not only extremely heteronormative, but it strips women of their sexual agency and ignores intersectional approaches to feminism. It completely negates the possibility that a woman can be sexual for her own enjoyment or pleasure. And while feminism is explicitly about dismantling the patriarchy and allowing women to be free of sexist expectations, making choices based on what does or doesn't appeal to patriarchal presumptions makes one literally beholden to that very system. If all your choices are direct responses to the patriarchy, you are still reactive to its whims, rather than proactive to your own desires.

If you don't do femme because men like it you are still influenced by male gaze. That's the point, reclaim the gaze & center YOUR feelings
— Shaadi (@tgirlinterruptd) October 8, 2014

Until we are truly post-racial, (so never...) the racial divide will always matter in feminism. This means that our feminisms will differ depending on our intersections, and that's okay. It is perfectly acceptable to acknowledge that different women have different needs. But the constant gatekeeping of mainstream feminism reveals the deeply entrenched racism within the movement. The face of my feminism isn't going to be the face of yours because we don't have the same concerns and therefore we're looking for different things in the women we look up to. Sexual liberation isn't going to look the same for you as it does for me because we're moving forward from different historical contexts. Embracing and acknowledging this fact rather than rejecting it is key to moving forward in solidarity.

And this is where my issue lies. Being able to safely express sexuality is important for black girls because it's something that was previously out of our control. Sexual agency was legally denied. That context does not exist for white women, and that can make it harder for you to understand how sexuality can be empowering. But just because something doesn't apply to you personally doesn't mean that it is worthless or deserving of derision or ridicule. Because of differences in race, class and sexuality, not everyone's feminist praxis looks the same.

White feminists ask "How do we know she's being sexual because she wants to?" I ask "Why would you assume that isn't the case?" Nicki Minaj's participation in the music industry doesn't lobotomize her or render her incapable of making her own decisions. She has shown time and time again that she is fully capable of directing and controlling her image, so why would you negate her agency now by insisting that she no longer has that power simply because her expressions of sexuality have become more explicit?

On #Reign, Rape And Sexual Assault As Plot Device

Trigger Warning: This post contains discussion of rape and sexual assault.

Let me start by saying that Reign is a great show. I started watching during the break between seasons one and two and haven't turned back since. In a lot of ways, Reign is typical CW fare: pretty people's pretty problems, but in others, it's a very progressive and feminist look (even if wildly historically inaccurate) at the life of one of history's most notorious and fascinating women.

One of the show's biggest strengths is that Reign deals quite openly with the struggles that women faced at the time; from their inability to own property to their inability to guide the very direction of their lives. The show expertly demonstrates how the show's female characters find ways to move through a world that refuses them power or autonomy. Because of this, I'm very surprised and disappointed that the show chose to have its title character violently raped as a way to advance the plot.

I am not as plugged into this show's online fandom as I am with other shows that I watch, so I was not aware that the details of this particular plot had leaked online a few months ago, and consequently did not see it coming. I will admit that even as it happened, I thought Mary might escape. After all, this would hardly be the first time that Mary has been under threat of rape in the show. Additionally, Reign had previously tackled rape (poorly) when Catherine de Medici, Mary's mother-in-law, admitted that she had been gang-raped as a child in a season one episode. A petition started back in October to persuade the showrunners not to go through with the storyline nicely sums up many of my issues with this episode:

Many of us have come to love this show for its portrayal of strong female characters and the unflinchingly feminine light it shines on the dynamics and pitfalls of power in a world that is dominated by men. Much of the series has focused on Mary's womanhood and how she has learned to utilize it, manipulate and weaponize it, even as the outside world has looked upon it as her greatest weakness. After persevering through so much adversity and triumphing over those who have fought so hard to silence her, to have her suffer through this violent assault sends the message that the world will only punish--crushingly and humiliatingly--those women who dare to assert their places within it. It is a message jarringly out of tune with everything we have come to admire about this series, and it has no place in a show geared toward young women who dream of a future in which they may rise without fear of retribution at the hands of men.

As with the HBO drama Game of Thrones the argument can certainly be made that the threat of rape is a historically accurate concern for women of the time. But Reign makes no pretense at accuracy and never has; this rape is a fictional concoction inserted into the story solely to create controversy and advance the plot. They cannot even hide behind the defense that they simply bungled the retelling of a true story.

If Loving This Is Wrong, I Don't Want To Be Right: Reviewing @FeministaJones' "Push The Button"

If you have a free weekend and $5 to spare, then go get Feminista Jones' kinky debut novel, Push The Button. I promise it's a decision you won't regret.

At a little over 100 pages, Jones' erotic novel is an example of BDSM done right, with lots of steamy scenes and a tight narrative to keep you engaged. Without giving too much of the plot away, Push The Button is about a woman named Nicole who is in a committed submissive relationship with her boyfriend and later fiancé, David. Circumstance pits them both against an abusive former flame of hers in a situations that ramps up to a spectacular ending that will leave you literally begging for more. Push The Button  expertly strings you along like a lustful lover only to giggle with mirth as they leave you to climax on your own.

It's difficult to talk about erotica these days without mentioning the 50 Shades trilogy but according to Jones she doesn't mind. The story structure makes it very clear that Jones set out to counteract the way in which 50 Shades carelessly conflated BDSM with abusive tactics. Nicole's current flame David is meticulously contrasted with her past flame Marcus, and Jones goes to great lengths to dilligently demonstrate the line between consensual and forced submission. There is even an amazing passage in the final chapter (that I won't detail here to avoid spoilers) that deals with the different ways in which consent can be violated and the consequences that it can have.

I won't pretend that I didn't struggle with the at times. I consider myself a sex-positive feminist, and while I intellectually understand that BDSM is not abuse, I am unfamiliar with the intimacies of BDSM in practice, and there were definitely scenes in the book that left me a little uneasy because the lines of consent seemed blurred to me. But Jones, an established voice and advocate for sex positivity  clearly prepared for this effect. For every scene where I questioned whether Nicole was being taken advantage of, there was another that reminded me that her relationship was something that she entered into willingly with eyes wide open. In fact, in the story, Nicole is the one who teaches David how she prefers to be dominated, and slowly introduces him into "The Life." Jones makes sure to remind us that being sexually submissive is Nicole's choice and not something that we should pity her for. While it is easy to reactively connect some of the situations in the novel to emotional  or physical abuse, it's important for us to remember (and for Jones to remind us) that consent is key, and that voluntarily relinquishing control is entirely different from having it forced from you; a situation that Jones also deals with in detail.

Full disclosure, I was given a copy of this book for free for the purposes of writing this review, but I absolutely stand by everything I've said here. I'm not usually a fan of erotic novels, but Push The Button made me not only reconsider my stance, but also demonstrated that "erotic novel" doesn't have to be synonymous with "crappy story with some sex scenes thrown in." Jones is a great writer, and she manages to construct scenes that make you sweat and clutch your pearls while seamlessly tying them into a larger story with ever increasing stakes.

But the main thing I love about Push The Button is that it's a story about something that isn't necessarily mainstream that centers on a black woman. As with pretty much everything else in our culture, white people tend to be the face of kink, and it was refreshing to see the topic dealt with through black characters. In a way, it made my own curiosity about kink seem less strange or stigmatized, because the book allowed me to imagine people who look like me participating and enjoying themselves.

In her short debut, she makes us care about the well-being of her characters so much that the final chapter feels like a punch to the gut. Push The Button is a well crafted piece of fiction that I'm so glad I was exposed to, and you're missing out if you don't get yourself a copy.

Push The Button is available for sale from Amazon and Gumroad as an ebook download.