Cinderella Ate My Daughter

by Peggy Orenstein

Orenstein has a pedigree writing about womens’ liberation issues for publications like the New York Times, or whatever has a lot of caché nowadays. That sounds like I think it’s dumb — I don’t, promise; I’m just pumping these reviews out so blehgh. Anyway, this book made me even more afraid to have children than I already was! It made me realize that no matter what values I might try to instill in a daughter or a son, like Orenstein, I will fail to protect them from a classist, sexist, consumerist world that constantly bombards them with its messaging: BUY MORE SHIT! BE THIS WAY! DON’T DO THAT! YOU ARE THIS, NOT THAT! GOOD IS NARROW! etc. I think it’s good books like this are here, though, because they’re the only way to slowly, slowly push the prow back in the right direction, to sail onwards toward that ever-receding horizon and the rising sun.