Thick “transforms narrative moments into analyses of whiteness, black misogyny, and status-signaling as means of survival for black women” ( Los Angeles Review of Books) with “writing that is as deft as it is amusing” (Darnell L. Pair with The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf, Valentine by Elizabeth Wetmore, or Tears We Cannot Stop by Michael Eric Dyson.In eight highly praised treatises on beauty, media, money, and more, Tressie McMillan Cottom-award-winning professor and acclaimed author of Lower Ed-is unapologetically “thick”: deemed “thick where I should have been thin, more where I should have been less,” McMillan Cottom refuses to shy away from blending the personal with the political, from bringing her full self and voice to the fore of her analytical work. Cottom is research-driven, opinionated, and a superb writer. Those three qualifiers show up in equal measure in the essays. So, I’d recommend Thick: and Other Essays if you’re interested in the perspective of a black woman academic.

Nevertheless, women’s lives are never the same when a man comes into the picture with abuse on his mind. This one made me think of my last read, although that girl was a Mexican immigrant. As does her female perspective.Īnd my heart utterly breaks at the essay about lost black girlhoods. But it’s written deeper into the current GOP administration, which changes her analysis. Her assessment of the Obama presidency correlates in many ways with We Were Eight Years in Power. But I can appreciate and learn from what Cottom writes. Cottom wastes no words, and crafts each thought with care.Īs I’ve said when reviewing other similar books, I know I’m not the intended audience here. Every sentence is crafted to pack a punch. This wasn’t an easy book of essays, despite it’s relatively slim size. And her essay about competence, health care, and black women connects directly to headlines about today’s pandemic.

Her discussion of beauty myths linked back to Naomi Wolf’s book, which I read last year. She discusses the oddities of LinkedIn and Twitter. Cottom talks about the evolution of the personal essay as a genre. She wrote about her world for the people who have similar experiences-people of color, blacks, African Americans. That’s the exact opposite of how these essays felt to me. Given that, I cannot say that she allowed me to step into her shoes or slide under her skin. “I do not paint ethereal black worlds where white people can slip into our narratives and leave unscathed by judgment for their unearned privilege.”

This one sentence from the titular essay encapsulates her perspective for me. Tressie McMillan Cottom tells it like it is in Thick: and Other Essays.

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