Rae Padilla Francoeur More Content Now

“Don’t Call Me Princess: Girls, Women, Sex, and Life” By Peggy Orenstein. Harper, 2018, New York. 378 pages. $16.99.

In the introduction to her newly published collection of essays, “Don’t Call Me Princess: Girls, Women, Sex, and Life,” Peggy Orenstein writes that telling our stories is more important than ever. Agreed — though over the course of the three decades that she’s been publishing her energized, groundbreaking and smart pieces, there’s never been a time when the words “urgency” and “women’s issues” weren’t conjoined at the “e’s”.

It’s an uphill slog, though, at the moment, it seems we’ve hit a particularly rough patch. Boys, taking their cues from ubiquitous porn, find women’s body hair “disgusting” and girls confuse the difference between feeling good about their bodies and looking good. Early feminist complaints about objectification seem absurd in the face of today’s stakes. Orenstein points out that half of high school girls have no hair below their waistlines as they struggle to find polite and considerate ways to tell boys to stop molesting them at dances and parties. Girls and boys, men and women live in confusing times in the United States. Orenstein’s earnest, intelligent and humorous essays give us both perspective and despair.

Orenstein is author of several books and scores of essays. Her most recent book, “Girls & Sex: Navigating the Complicated New Landscape” will be followed, she writes, by a book about boys’ attitudes, expectations and experiences of sex and masculinity. She’s a feminist who thinks and feels her way through her essays, problem solving and shaping ideas in a way that many will find appealing.

The essays in this compilation take us back to 1982 when Orenstein was an intern at Ms. magazine. She was star struck by the conversations she witnessed between women like Gloria Steinem, Robin Morgan, Kate Millet and Andrea Dworkin. Yet she felt impatient with Steinem and Morgan, who were straight out, trying to find funding to keep the magazine going. What had started out as a brilliant moment in journalism in 1971 when Ms. sold out all 300,000 copies of its first edition in 10 days, was a challenge to keep funded. Orenstein’s impatience with such revered icons of feminism reveals not just the youthful energies of a young and confident journalist but a critical thinker well suited for her ongoing feminist and female-oriented examination of our society.

The book is divided into sections including profiles of notable and dynamic women, issues having to do with women’s health and women’s bodies, motherhood and girls. It’s surprising how contemporary every essay feels, even those written in the early 1990s. Some issues, like abortion and Roe v. Wade, remain politically charged and in constant flux despite the will of the majority.

Orenstein writes with a fiery passion girded by research. Her account of her ongoing battles with breast cancer are heartfelt, honest and important. “The Problem with Pink,” published in 2013 after her cancer returned and she had a mastectomy, looks at the problems with annual screening, treatment and recurrence. It’s one of the most forthright yet sensitive pieces I’ve read on mammography and breast cancer. Based on findings, it makes sense to get screened every other year only between the ages of 50 and 74. She gives us plenty to consider with regard to early diagnosis, metastasis, treatment and mortality as she herself works through the issues. The 25 percent drop in breast cancer death rates since 1990 may have more to do with treatment than screening.

Orenstein’s charged chronicle has many nostalgic moments, regardless of the ongoing relevance in today’s culture. I recall a profile I wrote in the mid-80s about the director of a women’s resource center in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. I described her as tall with a short and stylish head of white hair. The letters I got roughly chided me for the physical description and objectification of the director.

Some readers may recall that there was a time when Ms. magazine used the back page to display published images and words submitted by readers that violated feminist norms, such as ads of scantily clad women used to sell products. In those days, such advertising was considered close to taboo. Orenstein’s last essay, and the lead in to her next book, “How to be a Man in the Age of Trump,” reminds us that American culture is more complicated and confusing than ever.

In October 2016, Orenstein wrote: “Donald Trump (and, for that matter, Bill Bush) have unwittingly provided grist for a more radical, challenging discussion: About what it means‚ what it should mean, what it could mean‚ to be a man, a discussion that must continue in public and in our homes long after the candidate is told it’s game over.” Boys and girls, men and women regardless of politics, will find much to think about and talk about in “Don’t Call Me Princess.”
— Rae Padilla Francoeur can be reached at Rae@RaeFrancoeur.com.