It’s funny. This very weekend, someone on Twitter was complaining about Jennifer Weiner complaining about not being taken seriously as a writer because of her genre. The Twitter complainer made some claims about how some genres were just more likely to birth important novels–like, say, sci-fi, because it deals with ideas. Plus, if Weiner wants to be taken seriously, she should write for some real publications, even if only Entertainment Weekly, rather than Allure.
And I bit my tongue because I had other things to do this weekend than play internet feminist. But come on! If that’s not a line of thought for feminists to giggle over, I just don’t know what is!
Anyway, that’s just the cherry on the sundae of this delicious piece by Weiner in Allure, which made me cry at the end. I simply cannot think of a “legitimate” magazine–Entertainment Weekly? The Atlantic? What?–that would run a story like this, as raw as this is, and as beautiful. It seems strange to me, and obviously sexist, to say that this piece, in this place, is just obviously not that important.
As for the piece itself, I have to say, when it ended, I thought, I am not sure I could be that generous to that kid. I am almost certain that this would be a moment when I would fail as a parent, because it would be a moment when I looked at my kid and was like “Fuck you, you little monster.” Probably only in my head, but I would be repulsed. I literally cannot imagine having the skills to deal with this in any way close to how Weiner does.