Feminist Book Club: Shrill: Notes from a Loud Woman, by Lindy West

There are a few names that are sure to be mentioned when history looks back on feminism during the early 21st century, and it seems a sure bet that Lindy West will be near the top of that list. A prominent Internet presence for more than a decade, West is best known for her work on feminist mainstay site Jezebel. Fans of her outspoken, unapologetic, and funny articles will be doubly captivated by her debut memoir, Shrill: Notes from a Loud Woman. The magic that West brews into her Jezebel articles is twice as potent in this powerhouse book. West lovers, prepare to rejoice—newcomers, prepare to join the fan club.
While Lindy West would be in good company on a list of our era’s icons, she stands out as arguably our greatest champion of the body positivity and fat acceptance movements. In Shrill, West allows us a window into her life as a bigger person. However, West would not use “big,” or “heavy,” or “overweight,” or any other euphemism—she makes no bones about the fact that her preferred label is “fat.” West describes her process of coming to terms with her body as it is, and the many obstacles that have threatened to block her from doing so. From her school days, to her dating years, to her life in the workplace—she was never far from a do-gooder all too willing to tell her what she was doing wrong, that it was “dangerous” and “unhealthy” to be fat, and casting fatness as a moral failing worthy of derision. West shows us how natural is was for her to believe this narrative for so many years, and how monumental an act of rebellion it was when she finally rejected the notion that she needed to change in order to be worthy of happiness, success, and love.
In telling us the story of her own self-acceptance, West yanks back the curtain of one of our culture’s ugly truths: that fat people are second-class citizens in America. We treat them as invisible while simultaneously begrudging them for being too visible. We give them dirty looks on airplanes and in movie theaters, we drown them in unsolicited weight-loss advice, and we infantilize them with the assumption that they cannot control themselves. Simply put, we, as a culture, have no respect for fat people’s boundaries. We think they are fair game for criticism, and even ridicule. Indeed, fat people are one of the last groups in America that is is acceptable to publicly malign, especially under the guise of “concern.” West is on the frontlines of the battle to change all that. She and other fat-identifying folks are declaring that enough is enough, and demanding to be treated as sovereign human beings who take ownership of their bodies and reject the notion that they owe anyone thinness. The point is not that it is healthy to be fat (although there is lots of evidence to suggest it absolutely can be), the point is that it’s simply none of anyone else’s business.
Speaking of respecting other people, Shrill also tackles the controversy over rape jokes and other forms of misogyny within the comedy world. As a lifelong fan and occasional purveyor of stand-up, West is uniquely qualified to examine this conflict. She describes the ways in which many of our most beloved (often white, usually male) comics have wielded jokes about raping, beating, and otherwise mistreating women in their sets, and the ways in which this can affect survivors and women in general who are members of the ticket-paying, podcast-listening audience.
Though some have spoken out in support of West, her critique has been met with cries of “PC Police” and that old favorite, “feminazi” by members of the comedy elite and the fedora-wearing masses alike. It brings to mind Jerry Seinfeld’s recent whinge about how he doesn’t perform at colleges anymore since the students are too “politically correct” to laugh at his jokes about gay people. What Seinfeld and other supporters of no-holds-barred comedy often fail to consider is this: no one is challenging your First Amendment rights and demanding that such humor be banned. Rather, it just might be that a progressive audience simply does not find low-hanging fruit jokes about rape victims, LGBTQ people, and other oppressed groups funny. It might mean this new audience is humorless—or it might mean today’s comics need to work a little harder for their laughs.
Continuing the theme of boundaries and respect in Shrill: Notes from a Loud Woman is West’s expose of the particularly virulent strain of abuse she has received from anonymous Internet trolls. In excruciating detail, West outlines the refrains of “kill yourself,” the horrific (although not particularly original) names that people call her regularly, the rape threats, the admonishments that she is too fat to be raped (as though rape is some sort of thinness prize)—the list goes on and on. In one particularly abusive incident that West explored in an episode of This American Life, one troll went so far as to impersonate West’s recently deceased father in order to torment her over a period of months. In an uplifting moment, West’s segment about the ordeal appears to inspire former Twitter CEO Dick Costolo to take a tougher stand on hate speech and harassment levelled via the social network. However, it remains unclear how much has changed on Twitter since then. Currently, SNL cast member Leslie Jones is withstanding a barrage of racist and misogynist tweets after the release of her new movie, Ghostbusters. As of the time of this writing, current Twitter CEO Jack Dorsey has reached out to Jones in an apparent pledge to help stop the abuse. Let’s hope he does.

Though there is still much work to be done in making the real and virtual world safer for oppressed groups, books like Shrill: Notes from a Loud Woman provide us with the armor we need to continue to do that work. Equal parts vulnerable memoir, inspirational manifesto, and laugh-out-loud roast of the patriarchy, Shrill is West at her outspoken best. Whether she is defending the rights of people to control their own bodies or refusing to back down from an online harasser, Lindy West reminds us that the loudest people make the most change.
Next month’s selection: Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates.