Review of Financial Feminist: Overcome the Patriarchy’s Bullsht* by Tori Dunlap
When I first picked up Financial Feminist: Overcome the Patriarchy’s Bullsht*, I was drawn to the bold promise in the title and Dunlap’s reputation as a passionate advocate for women’s financial empowerment. As a woman navigating the tricky waters of personal finance myself, I was eager to uncover fresh perspectives and actionable advice. However, what I found was a mixed bag, ultimately leaving me more conflicted than I anticipated.
At its core, Financial Feminist dives into the psychological relationship women have with money, a topic that resonates deeply with so many. Dunlap argues that financial advice directed at women often leans toward shaming them for spending, whereas men’s guidance focuses on investing. While this point holds water, I couldn’t help but feel this narrative overlooks the countless personal finance books that have been penned by women—many of which tackle these issues directly. The lack of nuance in unpacking this theme felt like a missed opportunity to engage with the broader landscape of financial literature.
Dunlap’s blend of personal experience, anecdotes, and insights shines brightest in her relatively rare section on salary negotiation and benefits packages. The emphasis on teaching women to advocate for themselves in the workplace feels empowering, and I found the idea that interviews should be viewed as a two-way street particularly refreshing. This approach could have offered a more enriching exploration of systemic oppressions affecting earnings, but instead, it felt buried amid more generic advice.
On the writing front, Dunlap’s voice is casual, conversational, and full of energy—certainly a plus for many readers. Yet, I spotted an over-reliance on curse words that dilute impact; they initially elicit a chuckle but quickly turn into background noise. This is reminiscent of other self-help authors whose narratives sometimes spiral into victimhood rather than empowering action, a comparison that painfully brings to mind authors like Rachel Hollis.
What struck me as particularly intriguing were the sidebars featuring diverse voices—women, people of color, and LGBTQ couples sharing their financial experiences. Many of these snippets offered fresh insights that felt more poignant than the main narrative. The stories about societal pressure to spend money to look attractive or the financial struggles faced by women in jobs like Victoria’s Secret brought deeper realities to light.
However, I was left wanting in terms of practical advice. Dunlap introduces a three-bucket budgeting system—essentials, savings, and non-essentials—but the lack of clarity on how to track these categories was frustrating, especially as someone who has grappled with budgeting myself. Furthermore, the assumption that readers have some degree of privilege—like a 401(k) plan—sets an exclusionary tone that could alienate those truly struggling financially.
In the end, Financial Feminist offers some valuable nuggets of wisdom, but they may be overshadowed by the overall presentation and the contradictions in Dunlap’s approach. I would recommend this book to those seeking a simplified introduction to financial feminism, particularly women who are already somewhat comfortable navigating their finances. However, for those who are well-versed in the complexities of personal finance, it might feel overly familiar.
On a personal note, this reading experience served as a reminder of the varied approaches to financial literacy across different backgrounds. It also left me reflecting on the voices we often prioritize in these conversations. If you’re curious about how to negotiate your salary, by all means, give this book a shot. Just approach the rest with a discerning eye.
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