Over the weekend I read Rebecca Traister’s Good and Mad: The Revolutionary Power of Women’s Anger, which was overall kinda shruggy-emoji. It’s basically a rehash of the last two years with a smidgen of history shoved in for legitimacy.
If you’re the target audience for this book then you’re gonna know most of what is discussed — the misogyny of the 2016 election, #MeToo, and how the left is just as full of dirtbag sexist assholes as the right. While it was nice to be reassured again that I’m not alone in my rage, while I read I frequently thought, “Yeah, I know.”
However, the book reminded me to be angry about Shirley Chisholm all over again. I majored in PoliSci in the 90s and I didn’t learn about Shirley Chisholm until Hillary Clinton was about to accept the Democratic party’s nomination in 2016. I learned about Chisholm when other black women were fighting for her to be recognized as the trailblazer she is.
It makes me furious that I didn’t know about her before, not just at my own lack, but because I’m not a total dummy and I didn’t learn about Chisholm in any class I ever took. School failed me.