In March 2005, Walt Disney Studios released the film Ice Princess. (I swear I'm going somewhere with this.) The film chronicles the journey of Casey Carlyle, a brainy high school student whose life takes an unexpected turn when she stumbles into the world of figure skating. Played with an earnest charm by Michelle Trachtenberg, Casey’s transition from an academic overachiever to an ice princess is met with constant grief by Joan (aptly played by Joan Cusack), Casey’s eccentric mother, whose biggest issue with this transition seems to solely revolve around the skimpy outfits Casey will wearing on the ice.
Most of the scenes that play out between the mother and daughter duo have aged like milk, but perfectly encapsulate the attitudes that permeated the 2000's era feminism many Millennial women—including myself—are now resenting. Lessons have, and needed to be, unlearned.
Feminists—in whatever wave I grew up in—were woman who didn't wear makeup, didn't care about their looks at all, didn't wear pink, didn't put much stock in running a household, and most importantly, they read books (so much Didion) and they wore their intelligence on their sleeve. They were career focused, workaholic, boss babes who scoffed at stay-at-home moms, rocked a sensible pants suit, covered their tits, and were crucified for finding even mild enjoyment in mainstream pop.
And, if they were fictional, they kicked ass.
Then came the Girlboss; hustle culture repackaged and resold to women. Feminism commodified. You betta werk, b*tch.
The term "Girl Boss" burst into our lexicon in the early 2010s, fueled by Sophia Amoruso’s memoir-turned-manifesto, #GIRLBOSS. What began as a vibrant rallying cry for women’s empowerment in the corporate arena gradually became a complex symbol of shifting attitudes toward capitalism, materialism and hustle culture as a whole. The movement sold women a millennial-pink package of podcasts, coffee mugs, books and hydro flasks, all to teach women that their value rested on their career success.
But there was one major issue with the girlboss era—the push for women in the workplace seemed to only benefit one very specific type of woman. Women Like Elizabeth Holmes. Like Rachel Hollis. Like Sara Treleaven Blakely. Like Christene Barberich...
Let's Talk About Intersectionality and Inclusion, Baby
Feminism, today, while still imperfect, is as multifaceted as it is resolute. Much more so than the movements that came before. Gone are the days when feminism was seen through a monolith. Intersectionality is not just a buzzword but a foundational principle. And modern feminists are acutely aware that feminism cannot be one-size-fits-all. We understand that gender inequality intersects with race, class, sexuality, and ability. It can no longer only be about celebration and representation, but about sharing the warts-and-all reality of the female experience across the spectrum of identities and experiences. It adopts an activist approach—being radical when necessary—but ultimately exemplifies three main commitments: freedom, choice, and authenticity. And the beauty of it is it doesn't have to be any deeper than that.
Check out these post #girlboss books that not only reject the toxic views of 2000s feminism, but embrace an international and intersectional understanding of the word, and put the fangs back in feminism. Add to your TBR asap!
1. Unapologetic: A Black, Queer, and Feminist Mandate for Radical Movements by Charlene A. Carruthers
Charlene Carruthers characterizes her work as “a book for all people who are curious about and committed to the struggle for Black liberation.” This electrifying debut by Carruthers, founding director of Black Youth Project 100, is part testimony and part activist’s toolbox with snippets of Carruthers’s personal history sprinkled throughout. Carruthers makes an urgent case for organizing movements and reexamining history through a black queer feminist lens to better equip activists in a “principled struggle” to end racism, ableism, homophobia, patriarchy, and ingrained prejudice. She outlines strategies on how to prioritize issues, build strong leaders, and adopt healing justice to bring about radical change. For anyone who thinks activism is too hard, Carruthers basically grabs your hand and walks you through it.
As Zakaria, the civil rights attorney, sets up her case in Against White Feminism: Notes On Disruption, we see that she is not on some earnest mission to educate the misinformed or enlighten the uninformed. This, as Tressie McMillan Cottom would say, ain't her row to hoe. Instead, Zakaria presents, calmly and methodically, plenty of well-researched evidence for why white feminism is messed up and why it must be dismantled. Like the feminists of color she cites—Audre Lorde, Kimberlé Crenshaw, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, Lila Abu-Lughod, and more—Zakaria's thesis is that we are dealing with systemic racism built over centuries into our cultures, institutions, socio-political movements, and everyday interactions and behaviors. And, like Cathy Park Hong in Minor Feelings, Zakaria is not making any allowances for the myth of white innocence.
The ache at the heart of Mikki Kendall’s bracing essay collection is whether or not all women actually have a common set of interests. Kendall never asks this question outright—she takes it as a given and anguishes what do you do “when the people who are supposed to be your allies on one axis are your oppressors on another.” And as she mounts the evidence of what hasn’t changed in the past hundred years—that mainstream feminists still largely ignore the needs of their poorer and browner sisters.
This novel just gets it right. Maybe it’s the vivid storytelling or the intersectional approach to queerness, but it speaks to queer people of color who often feel isolated, or stretched between two communities. Tembe Denton-Hurst balances a critique on white feminism through the lenses of a young, unapologetically Black, queer writer who’s searching for her identity outside the bounds of her career, family, and long-term relationship.
Drew Afualo has made a name for herself as a bold and unapologetic advocate for women and femmes, amassing over nine million followers across her social media platforms as the internet’s “Crusader for Women,” Loud, a dynamic blend of memoir, manifesto, and manual that empowers readers to live boldly and authentically, captures the essence of her mission: to rid the internet and our lives of misogyny and to encourage women to reclaim their power, whatever that may look or feel like to them. Queen.
Unique and quirky, this book tells the stories of 12 Black British women, aged 19 to 90, and their interesting blend of diverse experiences with focus on the leitmotif of identity—personal, cultural, and artistic. Evaristo gives us essential insight into the ordinary and extraordinary lives of each character as they navigate through a world still devastatingly full of prejudice and narrow minds. The book covers everything from feminism, to politics, to racism, to relationships and sexuality. But the selling point is the inter-connectedness of stories. Each chapter illustrates the story of a woman, and through each story we also meet other women from the book, seen through a different lens. It's humanness in its most pure and diverse form. And a lot of human experience is packed into this one.
Ding dong, the Girlboss is dead. And a new wave of feminism has entered the chat.
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