The Jungle Book

After threats of a "girlcott," race and gender still battle for the title of king.


When the book came out in early March, few seemed to notice anything wrong. The first dozen reader reviews on its Amazon page were uniformly glowing, with many mentioning how they’d long admired the author’s blog. It’s a Jungle Out There: The Feminist Survival Guide to Politically Inhospitable Environments is Amanda Marcotte’s first book, but the author is a seasoned blogger. A 30ish white woman from Texas, Marcotte wields a freewheeling I-don’t-care-who-I-piss-off voice as she attacks sexism, homophobia and other patriarchal behaviors on her blog, Pandagon. Your typical third-wave feminist, she has also railed against racism and other ills because hey, you don’t have to personally experience a social wrong to want to right it, right?

You can see where this is going, can’t you? Turns out Marcotte’s book, whatever sharp wit and political insight it conveyed, painted a thousand more with its illustrations: vintage comic-book images of a blonde chick rampaging through a tropical forest, battling seemingly endless variations of an undifferentiated brown horde.

In retrospect, it’s surprising it took all of two weeks for the black blogosphere to rally against the thing. By the end of March and for the first two weeks in April, women of color from BlackAmazonto Angry Black Woman had attacked the book’s publisher, Seal Press, a small San Francisco-based house that advertises itself as being “by women, for women.”

For these women, the controversy was yet another outrage in the long and discouraging history of white feminists discounting, misunderstanding and disrespecting women of color. It turned out that this wasn’t the first time Seal Press had shown what many saw as racial insensitivity—back in 2007 they had to scuttle an original cover for Marcotte’s book that featured a King Kong-like ape-ravishing-white-woman image. And, some pointed out, where were the women of color among their author list?

By mid-April, word had spread, and the first cries of protest appeared on the book’s Amazon page. Serious talk of a “girlcott” had the publisher worried, and on April 25 the publisher posted an apology on its Web site and announced they would change the illustrations in any subsequent print runs of the book. Marcotte apologized as well, on Pandagon.

In the online world, offense and apology can become entwined in interesting ways. And when race is involved, it’s all the more fraught. The more Seal Press and Marcotte tried to make amends, the more voices rose telling them just what was missing from their apologies; each renewed charge would spark new, and newly misbegotten, explanations or apologies.

When Seal’s editors said that the cover, from a 1950s Marvel comic, “is not an accurate reflection of our beauty standards, our beliefs regarding one’s right to bear arms, nor our perspectives on race relations, foreign policy or environmental policy,” bloggers were quick to point out that lumping a specific charge of racism in with a laundry list of potential offenses tends to trivialize the complaint, and on it went. The Seal team made some guest appearances on the blogs, with predictably disastrous results (at one point saying that they don’t publish more women of color because they don’t get many proposals from that demographic, a complaint that may prove to be self-fulfilling now).

As someone once said, on the Internet nobody knows you’re a dog. And nobody knows, unless you take pains to tell them, that you’re white, black or anything else. It soon became clear that the majority of posts on the boards of both Seal Press and Pandagon, the majority of women agonizing over this issue, were white (as, I should point out here, am I). As one poster said:

“…it’s a little absurd to hear a bunch of white men and women moaning about how horrible white men and women are. And to have person after person talk as if they represent all people of color, then sheepishly admit they are white themselves.”