The Plight of the Self-Interested Feminist
In her 2019 essay “The Cult of the Difficult Woman,” Jia Tolentino suggests American society has become infatuated with the notion of a “difficult woman,” (only the notion, though, never the real thing). For modern feminists, the idea of women overcoming obstacles has been venerated as the ultimate rebuke against sexism: we are obsessed with the downfall and reinvigoration of female icons—the difficult women of popular culture. In the early aughts, Paris Hilton and Britney Spears were featured on tabloid covers; their behavior was simultaneously scrutinized and idolized. In 2023 we empathize with Paris and Brittney and blame the patriarchy for their wild years.
Indeed, the feminist icon narrative has become so convoluted that liberal publications like the New York Times empathized with the critique of the women in the Trump administration. As Tolentino explains, “generic sexism” certainly was not “meaningfully disempowering to Kellyanne Conway in her….position as an indestructible mouthpiece for the most transparently destructive president in American history.”
Tolentino uses Hillary Clinton's 2016 election loss as the cornerstone of her argument that we only like difficult women in theory; Hillary Clinton became generic and unlikeable in her battle against becoming too difficult. Tolentino writes that Clinton pandered and compromised in “the interest of survival,” ultimately watering down her identity until she was nothing but a woman.
Kim Kardashian, like her comrades Paris and Britney, is a foil to Hillary Clinton throughout the essay. Tolentino explains that Kim is “frequently written about…as some sort of deliciously twisted empowerment icon.” She argues, “for some women, it is difficult and indeed dangerous to live as themselves in the world, but for other women, like Kim and her sisters, it’s not just easy but extraordinarily profitable.” Women in the US have consistently praised Kim’s body changes because of her self-exercise in autonomy (her money and time spent executing her vision) and in turn Kim capitalizes off of their obsession.
Unfortunately Kim’s alteration of her body to become skinnier is emblematic of a society of women who carry beauty standards and perceptions of the male gaze on their skin and in their psyche—the body types of US women trend like sneakers or bags. Of course, the danger of not adhering to these standards for all women is not as clear and immediate as the threat of speaking out against power structures as a woman, in particular a woman of color. Like Kim, as a 22-year-old white woman, I can write what I like online and post frivolously on Instagram, whereas Sandra Bland complained about her cruel and unusual traffic violation arrest online, and she was silenced—killed in police custody.
Jia Tolentino has identified an absurdity in her work: we love to celebrate women who appear to be overcoming sexism, and we do not celebrate women who actually do so. Tolentino is critical of celebrity and Republican women who act in their self interest in her piece, but she paradoxically concludes that “a woman doesn’t have to be a feminist icon to resist [sexism]—she can just be self-interested which is not always the same thing.” This ending suggests celebrity women are not archetypes for ordinary women who overcome sexism because they have different self-interests. If Kim’s self-interest is to make money off of the sensationalization of her body alterations, then her self-interest is a disservice to women who compare themselves to Kim and aspire to look like her, the women who, in Tolentino’s view have lives which are “mostly governed by…class, education, housing markets, labor practices'' as opposed to money and power.
But, celebrity or ordinary, it can be challenging to discern a true self-interest from what women identify as self-interest within a patriarchal context: if Hillary Clinton behaved authentically and did what she wanted (her genuine self interest), and not what she thought she had to do to win, then we might have a female president, but it is hard to imagine a 2016 election without patriarchy.
And, in our 2024 social media culture, celebrity and ordinary women are far more similar than Tolentino insinuates. The majority of American women have access to a digital platform which varies in audience depending on the size of their community. The 2023 Forbes “30 Under 30” list features young women like Alix Earle who make millions off of self-made content. Influencers and ordinary women alike post “What-I-Eat-In-A-Days” on Tiktok and Instagram along with their “Get-Ready-With-Me” routines. With their social media presence they affirm the idea
that women should live their lives by controlling their image for their own material gain. Women online exercise the same control as Hillary Clinton, and in the name of a façade of admiration and ogling, women neglect the impact of our actions on other women.
As a teenager, I used to console myself for aspiring to have a perfect body by blaming the male gaze. At age 22, it is not that I no longer see the benefit to being perfect that I find the motivation to halt my mission, it is that I find self-policing and the management of my image on Instagram to be anti-feminist. Aspiring to have a perfect body comes at the cost of my own happiness, but also the happiness of women around me who watch me both online and in-person and inadvertently compare themselves to me (like I do with other women). I also know that being hungry constantly and spending time primping and prepping impedes my joyful daily existence (a genuine self-interest).
Pushing back against sexism is about being self-aware and self-interested, but only in a genuine sense: women can consider what is good and healthy for not just themselves, but for other women in our community. For ordinary women, celebrities, and politicians, understanding how our actions impact women around us determines if our actions are feminist. Acting in my self-interest is not feminist in and of itself, and in fact, feminist action for Difficult women and ordinary women actually requires the opposite—a degree of selflessness.
