Expectations can be scary things. Feminism. Small town Texas. An author I already admired. So, yes, my expectations were super high for Moxie by Jennifer Mathieu. I was excited enough to buy the hardback as soon as I saw it. But then it set on my shelf for several weeks. Would it measure up?
I was first introduced to Mathieu’s work through volunteering at the North Texas Teen Book Festival. I moderated a panel on “stand alone” books and read Devoted to prepare for my session. To be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to reading it: teenager escapes super-conservative, Christian, homeschooling family and sets out on her own? Definitely not at the top of things I wanted to read. But I loved it. From my goodreads review: “Mathieu treats the Quiverfull movement with respect and really explores the complications of faith, breaking free from family, and growing up. Loved that it wasn’t tied up into a neat package–want to know more about Rachel, but also deeply satisfied with the ending. That’s a tricky line to walk.”
While chatting with Jennifer at the festival, she mentioned her next book–girl gets tired of football team running the school (and behaving horribly) and fights back through an underground ‘zine. Umm, yes please! And then I started to wait very, very patiently. Early reviews were good. Lots of people mentioned the best dedication ever:
For all the teenage women fighting the good fight.
And for my twelfth-grade Current Topics teacher for calling me a feminazi in front of the entire class. You insulted me, but you also sparked my interest in feminism, so really, the joke is on you. Revenge is best served cold, you jerk.
With an opening like that, somehow you just know this book won’t pull any punches. There was no wishy-washy feminism in the pages ahead.
In many ways, Moxie is an book of awakenings. Viv isn’t really a feminist when things get started. But she’s becoming increasingly annoyed at the many sexist traditions in her high school. And then she discovers her mom’s “My Misspent Youth” box, full of mementos from her mom’s Riot Grrrl years. Something snaps, and the book takes off.
Though Viv’s mom and I are basically the same age (always alarming when you discover you’re the same age as the mother in a YA novel), I didn’t really do the Riot Grrrrl thing. In high school, my musical tastes were very main stream and my politics not so liberal. It never would have crossed my mind to do anything that Viv does. I believed in strong women, but never really thought about feminism, per se. But as an adult who’s tired of fighting the patriarchy, I want to hand this to every young, engaged woman I know so that maybe she’ll find the courage to get involved sooner.
This is certainly a book needed for these tumultuous times. However, I do believe it has staying power. There’s a great cast of characters, and it all just feels real. As someone who had way too much of my high school schedule dictated by football games (I was in marching band), it was so gratifying to see a Texas football team get taken down. And these are just a few of the many, many things I loved.
By the end, I was sobbing. There’s been real growth and change in so many characters. New friendships are forged. Where I actually lost it was the walkout scene at the end–a walkout where no one is sure that anyone else will be walking.
We keep marching, our feet trampling over Principal Wilson’ threats and our teachers’ warnings. We are marching because those words deserve to be run over. Steamrolled. Flattened to dust. We are marching in our Converse and our candy-colored flip-flops and our kitten heels, too. Our legs are moving, our arms are swinging, our mouths are set in lines so straight and sharp you could cut yourself on them.
Maybe we hope you do.
I wish I had a book like this when I was younger.
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