Book Review: Enemy Feminisms: TERFs, Policewomen, and Girlbosses
From the moment I stumbled upon Enemy Feminisms: TERFs, Policewomen, and Girlbosses by Sophie Lewis, I was struck by its audacity and urgency. This book promises a fierce dissection of the darker veins of feminism—a topic often underexplored in my reading. I dove in, expecting a conventional critique, but what I found was a visceral, electrifying manifesto that made me recoil, laugh, and nod in agreement all at once.
At its core, Lewis crafts an unapologetic genealogy of feminist movements entwined with white supremacy, fascism, and moralistic policing. The book asserts that certain factions of feminism—specifically those aligned with imperialist and reactionary agendas—have historically targeted marginalized groups rather than uplift them. It’s a sobering reminder that feminism, like any ideology, isn’t inherently noble; it can be weaponized, particularly against the most vulnerable among us.
Lewis’s writing is neither static nor pretentious; it’s vibrant and infused with a raw energy that feels almost conversational. Pacing is brisk, occasionally bordering on frantic, matching the intensity of her arguments. She deftly intertwines historical anecdotes with contemporary examples, effectively showing readers how past injustices echo in today’s sociopolitical landscape. One moment I found particularly striking involved the ridiculous, almost absurd logic by which certain white feminists historically positioned themselves as saviors, conveniently ignoring the colossal harm wrought by their ideologies.
“Do you know why we fight whiteness?” Lewis provocatively begins, interrogating the moralization inherent in colonial practices. This question encapsulates the book’s driving force—the spectacle of how the very frameworks claiming to liberate can simultaneously enslave. It challenges us to rethink not just feminism’s history, but the current landscapes we navigate today.
What resonated most deeply with me was Lewis’s ability to identify how seductively these oppressive narratives can draw in even the most marginalized individuals. Through her examples of how, historically, women have allied with state violence—often in the name of protection or morality—she underscores the dangerous allure of self-righteousness. It’s a compelling aspect that sticks with you long after you close the book.
The sassy, no-holds-barred tone makes this dense subject matter surprisingly accessible. For instance, Lewis’s jovial yet sharp humor challenges her readers; she seems to ask, “Can you believe these absurdities?” Her wit cuts through the heavy themes, reminding us that while the subject is grave, there’s room for laughter and camaraderie in our collective struggle against oppression.
Ultimately, I would recommend Enemy Feminisms to anyone who dares to grapple with uncomfortable truths. If you’re a curious soul itching to challenge prevailing narratives in feminism, or simply someone who enjoys spirited, unapologetic critique, this book is a must-read. It forces a reckoning—not just with our understanding of feminism, but also with the ongoing legacies of colonialism and white supremacy.
My reading experience was transformative. Lewis invites us into a dialogue that feels utterly vital in our current climate, serving as a reminder that we must always question not just who we uplift, but the narratives we choose to align ourselves with. In a world where the stakes have never been higher, this book is both a wake-up call and a rallying cry.
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