{"id":3768,"date":"2020-07-06T21:23:33","date_gmt":"2020-07-06T21:23:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.thetruthcounts.com\/blogtraducciones\/?p=3768"},"modified":"2020-07-06T21:23:33","modified_gmt":"2020-07-06T21:23:33","slug":"social-justice-as-self-help","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thetruthcounts.com\/blogtraducciones\/2020\/07\/06\/social-justice-as-self-help\/","title":{"rendered":"Social justice as self-help"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Master Cleanse<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Why social justice feels like self-help to privileged women<\/h2>\n

BY<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

KAT ROSENFIELD<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
JUNE 28, 2020<\/span><\/div>\n
[Taken from here<\/a>]<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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TABLET MAGAZINE<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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This book inspired me to continue on the journey of personal growth that I\u2019ve been on and gave me some fresh new perspectives to consider.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

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It is a resource and a guide; like having a learned teacher with you in the intimacy of your own home as you confront some of the most troubling and critical truths about yourself.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

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It wants you to meet your full potential, but YOU have to DO the work.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

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The journey is hard, but I assure you, it is worth it.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n

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Half of these lines come from five-star reviews of contemporary self-help books. (Titles include\u00a0Girl, Wash Your Face<\/em>\u00a0by Rachel Hollis and the early-aughts law-of-attraction phenom\u00a0The Secret<\/em>.) The other half come from reviews of anti-racist handbooks, all of which rocketed to the top of bestseller lists this month amid a nationwide movement sparked by the May 26 murder of George Floyd by Minneapolis police. (Titles include Layla Saad\u2019s\u00a0Me and White Supremacy<\/em>, and, of course, Robin DiAngelo\u2019s\u00a0White Fragility.<\/em>)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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The similarities are eerie, but also unsurprising. Rachel Hollis\u2019 guide to self-help through face hygiene and Robin DiAngelo\u2019s manual for the white and fragile provoke the same sort of starry-eyed praise, using the same highly specific vocabulary (the word \u201cjourney\u201d turns up with remarkable frequency), because of the fundamental similarities in what they\u2019re selling\u2014and, more importantly, because the same people are lining up to buy it.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Self-help has always been a woman\u2019s game. Not that men don\u2019t also seek to improve themselves, but the books targeted to them tend to assume an existing state of self-confidence: You\u2019re great as you are, you could just be a little better. Men learn optimization, life hacks, the power of thinking without thinking: four-hour work weeks and other highly effective habits that are meant to help them build upon their innate perfection, like a software upgrade. Women, on the other hand, have faulty wiring that needs ripping out. Our most beloved self-help books are all about fixing something that came broken, delving into the psyche and excavating everything that\u2019s wrong with you: Women are exhorted to work on themselves the way a weekend warrior might work on a vintage TransAm, tinkering endlessly, replacing parts, fixing one flaw only to find that the engine still won\u2019t turn over, the real problem still buried somewhere under the hood. That you might actually get behind the wheel and drive out of the garage someday is a possibility so distant that it\u2019s hardly worth thinking about. What matters is that whatever is wrong\u2014with the engine, your life, the world\u2014it\u2019s definitely all your fault. (\u201cYOU have to DO the work.\u201d)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Is it socialization? Evolution? A bit of both, nature and nurture at once? Whatever the reason, women\u2019s feelings of inadequacy have always been a gold mine for savvy salespeople, with entire industries springing up around the insecurity du jour. The trappings change as attitudes do; notice how the publications that used to sell spot-reduction techniques or cellulite creams pivoted to \u201cwellness\u201d in the early aughts. At the peak of its relevancy, the Gawker empire even launched its own version of the women\u2019s lifestyle magazine with Jezebel, a supposed game changer that would deliver all the sex-celebrity-fashion fun of a\u00a0Marie Claire<\/em>\u00a0or a\u00a0Cosmopolitan<\/em>, \u201cwithout airbrushing.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Ten years later, it\u2019s clear that the game did not, in fact, change. Female self-loathing is still a major moneymaker, the only difference being that the relentless focus on women\u2019s flaws has moved under the skin. Your problem areas are now your\u00a0problematic<\/em>\u00a0areas; it\u2019s your soul, not your cellulite, that needs smoothing.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Of course, only the most elite women can afford the luxury of so much wallowing in their imperfections, a fact that feminist writers have readily critiqued in other contexts. A\u00a0New York Times<\/em>\u00a0article by Jessica Knoll\u00a0noted<\/a>, accurately, that the trillion-dollar wellness industry \u201cis a largely white, privileged enterprise catering to largely white, privileged, already thin and able-bodied women, promoting exercise only they have the time to do and Tuscan kale only they have the resources to buy.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Whatever is being sold, be it a jade vagina egg or a ticket to an anti-racist workshop, there\u2019s a great deal of money to be made off the guilt, anxiety, and insecurities of financially secure white women.<\/p>\n