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Valenti questions why modern feminists are told to "buck up" in the face of daily sexism, that their mothers and grandmothers (not to mention women in non-Western countries) survived far worse plights.

In its chapters, organized loosely by life stages ("Measurements," "Boys," "College"), the memoir explores what routine sexual harassment does to a woman's psyche. Sex Object is a dark and often revolting play-by-play of a lifetime of indignities, its author resolute not to gloss over what actually went down. As an adult, Valenti helps pioneer the feminist movement online, where her breasts are again noted, this time by a female Politico blogger who strafes Valenti for posing next to Bill Clinton in a tight sweater. By high school she has sprouted a C-cup, which doesn't go unnoticed by a beer-bellied teacher who corners Valenti for a hug for "a good grade." In college, a jilted boyfriend scrawls "whore" on her dorm-room door, taping a used condom below it for good measure. On her subway rides from Queens, N.Y., Valenti describes hopping train cars to avoid flashers and gropers, until one day she comes home to find a stranger's semen on her back pocket (she is in Grade 8). In her new memoir, Sex Object, the Guardian columnist paints a portrait of the "contemporary female experience" as it stands to her, navigating daily sexism on public transit, in school and throughout her relationships. There is a look that comes over mens' faces right before they are about to say something horrible to you.īy the age of 14, Jessica Valenti could spot the look from a few blocks away.