I know a lot of people love The Body Is Not an Apology. I understand why, and I do agree that it’s a good book! I think it even would’ve been revolutionary for me a few years ago. But at this point in my life, it just didn’t have a lot to offer me.

Things started off strong, and the prologue ensnared me. I remember tears forming in my eyes as I read Taylor’s conversation with her friend Natasha to my partner, who also almost cried hearing it. I was immediately hooked on Taylor’s beautiful writing style. It’s so clear that she is a poet. Her words are her art, each intentional and carefully considered, never merely a device to convey information. Unfortunately, though, this was where things peaked for me, and I spent the rest of the text waiting for it to get somewhere that it never went.

TBINaA is a great primer, but sometimes its high-level nature grew repetitive and even uncomfortable. There were instances, for example, where Taylor sandwiched harrowing details of racialised, gendered, or other forms of violence between fairly superficial discussions of self-love – something I found very jarring. I understood the link she was drawing between colonial, capitalist, patriarchal, white supremacist oppression and self-love, because I have theoretical knowledge and lived experience of them. But in the absence of a more nuanced analysis, relating these seemingly disparate topics would’ve been so confusing if I couldn’t fill the gaps myself.

This is a book that will mean something different to every person who picks it up, where reception depends upon each reader’s personal context. I’d recommend it as a starting point for folks who want to learn about how things like love, desirability, care, and self-image factor into social structures and dynamics of oppression. It provides a great general overview of these ideas, but isn’t where you’d go to find meatier, more in-depth discussions.

(Review originally posted on instagram)