Sul Guardian c’è un pezzo dedicato al “female confessional journalism ”. Insomma, quegli articoli in cui la giornalista racconta in prima persona, cercando anche un po’ di farsi compatire, la sua ossessione per il peso/la dimensione delle tette/gli anni che passano/ecc… Con un finale che è sempre più o meno lo stesso («the writer still sufficiently unhappy to be commissionable for another very similar piece»). Vabbè, la morale sarebbe questa:

This genre has nothing to do with journalists opening a window into what life is like for women today. It does women no favours at all. It is entirely about perpetuating an editor’s misogynistic image of what women are like (self-hating, self-obsessed) and making a semi-celebrity out of the writer in the belief that readers like to read journalists whose names and faces (and breasts) they recognise.

E soprattutto:

I have no doubt that the women who write these articles truly feel the emotions they describe. But these women need help.

[The Guardian]