When the reality of COVID-19 began to dawn on me, I decided that I should start reading. Of course, I am always reading something. And, in the middle of March, when I wasn’t working, what I read were mostly New York Times articles about sheltering in place, economic fallout, ventilators, and so on. Needless to say, my reading practice wasn’t necessarily lifting my spirits! But as I began to understand what the second half of the semester would be like — remote instruction, zoom meetings, and anxious students — I knew that turning to my stack of to-read books would be an effective survival strategy.
The first one I chose was Educated by Tara Westover. And what a wild ride that was! Considering my interest in new religious groups (as my Religious Studies Professor friend calls them) and women’s stories, I knew Educated would be up my alley. Even so, I wasn’t prepared for how taken I’d be by Westover’s life story. I read the memoir in two days, the second installment of reading consisting of me staying up late into the night to finish. I could not put it down!
Now, don’t get me wrong, I am quite aware that Westover’s story is compelling in part because of its structure. Even without my critical reading hat on, I was cognizant that most chapters culminated in a near-death accident, a violent outburst, or traumatic revelation. I would begin in each chapter saying “this will be the last for the night,” knowing full well that it would end in such a way that I would have to start the next one just to find out if Westover truly did survive. (And knowing that she did — she was writing the memoir — the question of “how?” was equally compelling.)
This kind of dramatic yet expected structure might be a gimmick for reality television or legal procedurals like Law & Order. But this was Westover’s life. (Edited, I know, for the utmost impact.) How could one body, let alone one mind and spirit, continue to persevere through the danger and abuse that Westover did is, honestly, beyond me. And yet, I know that she is not alone.
Reading Educated made me think of Kate Manne’s recent book, Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny. Because although Westover’s memoir is ostensibly about her education, it is also about misogyny. It is not named. Nor is it prioritized in her telling. And yet it is at the foundation of her family structure and, consequently, a powerful force that Westover first internalizes and then, ultimately, challenges.
In this way, Educated is constellated with so many of the podcasts and documentaries I consume: Wild, Wild Country and Waco; Bundyville, Cold, and Catch and Kill. Whether it is a cult, an alt-right movement, an abusive husband, or a serial predator, each of the stories listed highlight the consequences of a society in which women are valued less then men, in which women are policed and punished for not adhering to traditional roles, and in which unchecked masculine entitlement endangers people’s lives.
I don’t know if reading Educated was the best choice as the world was quickly enveloped in corona chaos. But it did remind me that one plague — misogyny — has been crippling our culture long before COVID-19 emerged on the scene.
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