Girl, fix your life! The sassy girlfriend self-help author is ready to tell you all the humiliating ways she messed her life up and how she turned it all around. And if she did it, you can too.
This week I’m reflecting on the appeal of this sub-genre of self help. You know the kind I mean: a combination of bare-all sharing and tell-it-like-it-is advice from a woman who, like you, kind of hates self-help but is nonetheless ready to give you the 300-page pep talk you need to girlboss your way to a better life.
My personal collection of sassy girlboss self-help includes Tara Schuster (Buy Yourself the F*cking Lilies and Glow in the F*cking Dark); Jen Sincero’s “Badass” collection; Sarah Knight’s oeuvre, including The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a F*ck and Calm the F*ck Down; and Holly Whitaker’s Quit Like a Woman: The Radical Choice to Not Drink in a Culture Obsessed with Alcohol (although Whitaker does offer a serious and thoughtful cultural critique). I do have some limits, though: Rachel Hollis’ Girl, Wash Your Face is NOT on my to-read list.
Even as I’m poking fun at this trope, I have to admit that I’m inexplicably attracted to these books. What is it about this kind of voice that I welcome into my chorus of advisors? My real-life friends don’t fit this type. Some of them are a little more blunt with their home-truths than others, but they rarely start sentences with “girl…”.
Maybe it’s precisely because this friend doesn’t exist that I occasionally crave her wisdom. Maybe I just want to hear that the cool, pretty, lives-in-New-York-City girl is NOT actually happy all the time. Maybe I want to believe that she can take me with her as she manifests her dream life. Maybe I can get my Sh*t the F*ck Together.
These books cast a kind of spell by deploying what I have to assume is at least a partially-fabricated persona. In her mystery novel The Villa, Rachel Hawkins creates just such a character in self-help author Chess Chandler. Chess (formerly Jess) writes a bestselling sassy girlfriend advice book and by the time we meet her, is penning one of several follow-ups, this one with the cringey (even to her) title “Swipe Right on Your Life.” Chess is already sick and tired of her own persona, although she’s still ready to launch a series of pop-up shops with Chess-branded motivational candles.
The “girl, please!” character isn’t the only sleight of hand. The irreverent titles (asterisks galore!) and self-deprecating, girl-talk style are meant to position these books as antidotes to the traditional, earnest, and maybe a bit dull self-help field. This certainly ropes in GenXers like me, who were raised with anti-ads and a strong sense of irony. Anti-ads are advertisements that rely on reverse psychology, radical honesty, or sarcasm, such as the iconic “Think small” ads for VW Beetles in the 1950s. Of course, an anti-ad is still, at the end of the day, an ad. And anti-self help books are also, ultimately, self help.
Still, they land with people like me because they present a veneer of counter-cultural, feminist, progressive values that convince you to say f*ck you to a bunch of stuff that is “no longer serving you” while giving you an excuse to buy yourself “the f*cking lilies” or a wide range of other products and experiences that you certainly deserve (“you’re a queen!”).
When done right, I can almost believe that these white, thin, non-disabled, cisgender, conventionally attractive women are helping me rebel against the destructive forces (e.g., capitalism, patriarchy) that don’t want me to live a full and meaningful life. I can almost believe that I don’t need to fundamentally change anything in order to chip away at the societal norms and values that shape our lives, women especially.
In other words, sassy (sort-of-feminist) girlfriend self-help can lull me into temporarily forgetting about the need for true societal, systemic change.
I don’t think individual, inner change and collective action are mutually exclusive, as I’ve written about before. But like most self-help, this sub-genre is seductive precisely because of its permission to focus on the personal and gesture vaguely at the political. Am I challenging traditional feminine gender roles when I give fewer f*cks and learn to say no? Sure. Will other women around me be inspired to do the same? Maybe. Will families and workplaces and other institutions be revolutionized? Seems like a bit of a stretch.
Many of these books also advocate for conventional, anti-fat approaches to exercise, beauty, and other aspects of physical appearance. They’re just dressed up (no pun intended) in a facade of “respecting yourself,” “self care,” and “taking time for you.” You’re not working out and wearing designer lingerie and $75 lipstick to please a man: you’re just empowering yourself!
I don’t mean to completely flatten the messages these books are trying to deliver. I believe (maybe somewhat naively) that most of these authors genuinely care about their readers and want to offer help. The world of sassy girlfriend self help is no more or less problematic than most other self-help genres. Sometimes that cheerleading best friend voice is exactly the right thing to motivate some kind of action. And since women are the biggest group of self-help consumers, it makes sense to have books that utilize familiar feminine personas to connect with certain demographics of readers.
As a reader myself, I know I have to exercise extra caution around these new BFFs. I need to carefully extract what’s useful while guarding against getting lost in the soft comfort of consumerism and superficial self-care. A little less “girl, clean your closet!” and a little more “girl, smash the patriarchy!”
What I’m reading: Just starting The Family Game by Catherine Steadman. Trusting in her ability to deliver solid twists.
What I’m watching: Criminal Record on AppleTV. Have I mentioned that I’m a sucker for British crime dramas with slightly unhinged/incredibly intense female detectives? Cush Jumbo is delivering.