Sad girl novels: the dubious branding of women’s emotive fiction

Ha, I was just saying to

something like, If someone writes a female character, and the female character isn't enraged out of her mind by the futility of going up against the towering and abusive persistence of misogyny in government policies and in personal dealings, if she isn't out of her mind with rage that things like rape and other forms of sexual violence have been rebranded in some aspects of the public conversation as, "well, it's normal, lots of people do it, so it's not so bad," if the female character isn't thinking about how the world tries to gaslight her into believing her very being, because she is female, should normally subject her to horrible and unfair conditions in religions and other social practices that would never be exacted of a human in a body that was male, if she hasn't exhausted herself with rage that the work of her life has been downgraded to a pathetic and misguided and awkward scream at deaf ears, if these experience have not, then, cast her into a depressed state that sometimes makes her look like a broccoli in a bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, if someone writes a female character without this gray sheen of helpless and hopeless rage rising off her, then this character, presented as female, has nothing to do with the lives of actual women and girls. If the female character seems to be gardening without a thought about what I've just said, her real-life counterpart is not gardening without a thought about what I've just said. Her real-life counterpart is gardening while enraged. If a female character looks like she is enjoying sex after being turned over a table and fucked from behind, then you are watching a movie or an episodic streaming show entirely written and imagined by people who are not female and who have never been fucked this way and know it is really the worst. Feh. Don't even think about it. The end.