Zara Hanawalt
Stop whispering, start talking: sharp, sassy takes on life in a female body.
What is Pinkwashing and How Does it Affect Breast Cancer Survivors
It's officially October, which means it's officially Breast Cancer Awareness Month...and you've probably noticed a lot of pink.
Brands are rolling out items in limited-edition pink offerings, or maybe they're launching a whole collection devoted to breast cancer awareness. It's easy to indulge in some shopping, especially if the brands promise to donate a portion of their proceeds to a breast cancer-related cause.
But where does it cross the line from supporting an important women's health cause into pinkwashing?
According to BreastCancer.org: "Pinkwashing is a type of cause marketing — which is a partnership between for-profit businesses and charitable groups — that uses the pink breast cancer awareness ribbon to promote their goods or services."
This doesn't mean that every campaign or product that uses a pink ribbon or the breast cancer awareness label is guilty of pinkwashing. Sometimes the term applies when a brand uses this ribbon while selling a product that might increase a person's risk of breast cancer, for example.
According to a TikTok video from a breast cancer survivor, a lot of companies will add a pink ribbon to a product, yet keep all the profits instead of donating them to causes that benefit those affected by breast cancer.
Another creator points out that some companies will claim they're donating a portion of their proceeds, yet won't clarify what percentage. In some cases, the amount they donate is negligible. One brand, for example, is under fire for donating just 2 percent of their proceeds of a capsule collection advertised as a way to give back to benefit the Susan B. Komen foundation.
The complicated thing with pinkwashing? Often it is insidious. It really comes down to a performative approach to supporting people affected by breast cancer rather than a genuine one. And as we all know, there's no clear line between genuine and performative activism.
It raises another question, though: Why is breast cancer one of the only women's health causes that gets this kind of attention? Is it because it's has such clear branding — because creating items in cute pink shades feels so monetizable, almost trendy? It's starting to feel almost...easy to release a pink item or collection, slap the breast cancer label on it, and let the profits roll in.
Why aren't we seeing this volume of awareness-driving campaigns for infertility, or maternal mental health, or endometriosis, or so many of the other issues that affect women? That's not to take away from the importance or the impact of breast cancer awareness. It's just to say that when comes to breast cancer awareness, we need to remember the real mission. It's not just to sell cute pink items: It's to improve women's health outcomes.
Ask Clara:
"What is pinkwashing?"
We Need a More Expansive View of Caregiving, and This Book Provides It
I've read every book Emily Giffin has written. Some I've loved: Her first novel, Something Borrowed, was kind of my gateway from reading young adult novels to reading women's lit and continues to be a comfort read. Others have left me underwhelmed — most notably, the book she released last year, The Summer Pact, though quite honestly, most of her most recent books have been misses for me.
A few months ago, I found myself wondering if maybe I'd outgrown this author. Maybe it was time to skip the new release. I'm glad I didn't.
Giffin's most recent book, Love You More, worked for me. It just did.
Not only was it exactly the kind of easy, sweet read I've been craving, it also provided some important caregiving representation, the kind I believe we've been needing for a while.
I won't spoil the book, but here's a brief synopsis: Billie is a successful doctor living in New York City. One day, shortly after she gets engaged to her equally successful doctor boyfriend, she receives a call from her first love. That call, and the news he shares, changes everything.
Now how does caregiving come into play? Again, I won't spoil it. But I will say this: A few months ago, I launched a podcast called The Millennial Sandwich. It's dedicated to the experience of being in the sandwich generation — caring for kids and aging parents at the same time. Daughterhood, as we often discuss, has barely received any cultural recognition, even though so many people (and especially women) are actively caring for their parents. But here's what I've learned: It isn't just daughterhood that has gone unrecognized; it's caregiving in general.
People are caring for kids. They're caring for parents. Some are caring for siblings, aunts/uncles, neighbors, friends, spouses...the list goes on. And this book reflects that: It shows caregiving for what it truly is: A life-shifting set of choices big and small. Choices that can feel disruptive or set you on a whole new path. Choices that can make you reevaluate everything or change your priorities.
This book shows that. It's the kind of representation we need, and if you like stories about women reevaluating everything, I think you'll like this one.
Ask Clara:
"What is caregiver burnout?"
"Protect Your Daughters" Has Never Been Enough. Why Aren't Why Talking More About Educating Our Sons?
For the past few days, I have been absolutely sickened by what happened at Cornell University. I won't go into the details here, but if you haven't read the news, please read it (and prepare yourself to feel absolutely gutted, infuriated and physically ill).
This is a story about so many things. Violence. Lack of consent. Accountability. Injustice. Dehumanization. Bodily autonomy being stripped, forcibly and violently, from one women...and a sign that it isn't afforded to women in general. So many other things.
But mostly, I think, it's about how deeply all our systems have failed women. Our medical system. Our justice system. Our educational system. Our social system. It's everywhere, and it starts at the very beginning.
I'm the mom of a boy and girl, and I always hear that it's so much harder, so much heavier a responsibility to raise a young girl. To protect a young girl. And yes, I worry about my daughter and her safety every single day.
But protecting out daughters is not enough. It has never been enough.
It's time to change the script: It's not just about protecting our daughters, it's about creating a world in which our daughters aren't so vulnerable. How do we that? By making sure our boys grow up to view women as human beings. It all starts with that.
It's about raising boys who understand the essential nature of consent. Who don't just know it's wrong to ever, ever do anything to a woman's body without this consent, but who also feel called to step up, to not sit idly by while other men violate it.
This is a big, big responsibility — the kind of responsibility that can quite literally change the world if we get it right. And if you play any role in raising a boy, it's your responsibility to carry.
Ask Clara:
"What's the importance of believing women?"
Has Taylor Swift Entered Her Ragebait Era?
Before I say what I'm about to say, hear this: I am a Swiftie to the core. And when my girl released The Life of a Showgirl: The Encore, a four-track extension of her most recent album, I listened immediately.
And like most Taylor Swift fans, I felt...I don't know, surprised? Underwhelmed, maybe? by my first listen, especially when I heard the song "Cleveland!", which has been a major, major topic of conversation online.
I was expecting a deep, beautiful love song about Swift's new husband, Travis Kelce (who, yes, is from Cleveland). Instead we got a song that seemed more about putting the critics in their place.
"Now I'm wearing white/So hate all you like/This is the love of my life," she sings on the track. The other three songs feel a bit more substantial, more adult...but of course, this one is the one that's getting the most attention. Which is...kind of telling? Kind of a sign of where we are and what we pay attention to? Kind of the whole point of what I'm trying to say here?
This song in particular, which seems to be the only one that's overtly about Kelce, is inspiring people on the Internet to speculate that being happy, in love, and in a secure relationship has robbed Swift of her artistry. Personally, I think that take is a little reductive — it's giving a bit of "you can either be a happy woman or a smart woman".
But here's what I will say: Taylor Swift's new music only feels surprisingly shallow because we're stacking her up against...well, herself. And maybe that has less to do with the woman who is, arguably, the best songwriter of our generation losing her magic touch and more to do with what media messaging in general looks like right now (because let's not forget — music is media too).
Swift's new songs, especially "Cleveland!" reminds me a bit of the musical equivalent of ragebait content. It feels quick, reactive, and defensive. My first thought when I heard it was "why does she think so many people are coming for her when in reality she's one of the most beloved, iconic stars in the entire world?"
But at the end of the day, isn't that what we all do? We let the critical hot takes get under our skin. We let them become our inner voice. We, to some degree, are responsible for the ragebait-y world of media because we reward it with our attention. And then the vicious cycle begins, over and over again.
Ask Clara:
"What is ragebait content?"
What's the Best Thing to do for Someone Who Just Had a Baby?
It's been almost 8 years since I've had a brand new baby, but when I try to think back to the things that made me feel truly helped and supported, I don't think about actions; I think about sentiments.
I think about how a friend offered to come over and hold my babies so I could take a long shower — I never took her up on that offer, but knowing someone was in my corner made me feel less alone.
I think about how another friend sent me a meal. It happened to be a food I don't really care for, but that didn't matter. It was the gesture and the thoughtfulness that really stuck with me.
More than anything, I think about the fellow twin moms who reached out to me with offers to answer any questions that came up, and to tell me that it would get easier. There was nothing they were necessarily doing to help me, but the fact that they took a moment to reach out, even though I hadn't seen or spoken to either of these women for years, felt so helpful.
Today, there's so much policing of how we should show up for a new mom.
"Don't offer to hold the baby! The mom doesn't want to hand her baby over!"
"Don't bring a meal without asking first!"
"Don't offer any advice!"
"Don't ask what you can do to help!"
And I find myself wondering: Is this extreme policing of how we show up for each other just getting in our way of real connection?
I don't quite know, because there are some things I feel should be hard and fast rules. You shouldn't visit a new mom or baby if you're sick (obviously!). You shouldn't expect a new mom to host you. You shouldn't tell her she looks tired (...really?).
But maybe...asking someone what you can do to help out isn't the worst thing in the world. Because let's face it: We all have different experiences, and some of us may welcome the opportunity to let someone else hold the baby while we eat a hot meal. Some of us would absolutely welcome a friend coming over to clean up or fold laundry...others would find this really stressful (TBH, I think I might fall into the latter category). Some of us appreciate the open-endedness of a "what can I do?", others find the mental load of having to answer that question really overwhelming. Others still may not ever take up that offer, but appreciate it all the same.
My take? Offer to send a meal. Definitely send a coffee. If you're invited over to meet the baby, consider bringing something over for the mom too. I love gifting new mothers a nice button-up pajama set (this set is pricey, but my favorite, and this is a great budget option), a massive water bottle (breastfeeding thirst is real, y'all), or a cozy blanket (I've heard amazing things about these and I think I might need to grab one).
So yes, we need boundaries around how we show up for postpartum moms. We need, above all else, to just be considerate. But maybe...we need a little bit less policing too?
The 'Iced Coffee at a Job Interview' Debate is (Obviously) Not About Iced Coffee
There's a debate that has set the internet on fire, and it's all about iced coffee at a job interview.
It all started when a recruiter made a video about certain unprofessional behaviors she's observed among Gen Z job seekers. "My Gen Z candidates are showing up to the interviews with iced coffee, iced lattes in hand," she said.
And the Internet went wild.
Many people find it absolutely revelatory that you probably shouldn't roll up to a job interview with a drink. Others are on the side of..."yeah of course? It's about decorum?".
It is, to some extent, shaping up to be a Millennial vs. Gen Z argument, and as a Millennial, I tend to side with my side on this one: I think walking in to a job interview with any type of drink feels too casual for a setting that commands a certain level of formality. Some people feel there's an element of misogyny at play because iced coffee tends to be popular among the girlies, and...okay, maybe there's something there? Others argue that people of color typically have the situational awareness needed to see why this isn't something you should do, I'd agree: As minorities, we know that it's so easy to discredit us, so we take these standards of behavior seriously.
Of course, none of this is really about iced coffee. It's about social awareness and decorum and professionalism — and it's also about an obvious shift in all these things. In a post-Covid world, I think we've just lost touch with these intricacies of human behavior. And that's why Gen Z is reacting so differently to this: They didn't have the luxury of experiencing early adulthood in person. We're spending so much time on our devices, it's affecting how we show up in the world and our ability to perceive situations.
The question is, what do we do about this? How do we maintain intergenerational connections and alliance for the sake of our future? I think we do it by trying to understand why this is happening in the first place. Social norms can and should change over time, but situational awareness...that matters. Our ability to asses without rules being explicitly communicated to us matters.
Many people are calling out the "unwritten rules" around things like not bringing food or drink (yes, that includes iced coffee) to an interview and...yeah. That's kind of the point; we should be able to apply a level of judgement to these situations. We should be able to understand that the energy we bring to a job interview is different than the energy we bring to hang out with our friends, yet in a social media-driven world, this type of nuance is getting lost. People argue that they don't want to a job if they can't bring a coffee to the office. What they fail to realize is that an interview is not the same as showing up to work, just like a casual brunch is not the same as a wedding. Different situations demand different approaches...and we can't afford to lose sight of that.
Netflix's 'The Best of The Best' Delivers More Than Just Representation and Yes, You Should Watch It
When I first heard about Netflix's new release, The Best of The Best, I immediately knew I'd be tuning in as soon as the movie dropped. The movie is, after all, about a college Bollywood-fusion dance team, and as a South Asian American woman (who also grew up competing on Indian dance teams), I welcomed the type of representation that's so hard to come by.
It's a representation I never, ever had growing up. In Western media, nobody looked like me. In the Bollywood movies I watched with my family, even if the actors resembled me, their lived experiences didn't match what I was facing as a South Asian woman in the United States.
That's why The Best of the Best feels so important. It's not the only South Asian American representation we have, but it's quite possibly the first real coming of age movie about this experience (Bend Like Beckham was, for decades, the closest we had — and it was set in London rather than the US). What this movie does beautifully is touch on the intricacies of the South Asian American experience without veering too hard into stereotypes. It doesn't do this perfectly, as many are pointing out. But hot take: I think that's okay.
The movie is about two best friends, Maya and Anjali, who are (to some degree) forced into the smart friend/pretty friend dichotomy. At first, this felt a little bit frustrating to me. And as many people have pointed out, framing the stunning Maitreyi Ramakrishnan as the "undesirable friend" is wild, as is the idea that the other woman in the movie, who doesn't fit the standard of intellect South Asians are often held to is "dumb" (though, as a South Asian woman, I think there's a specific understanding of how you can be beautiful, confident, and intelligent, but if you don't fit this highly specific mold, you're not considered good enough).
While watching this particular dynamic play out, I had this sense of "ugh, we're doing this thing where we put women into binary boxes again?".
But then I had to ask myself: Would you have been this critical if this were a movie about people who have historically been represented in media? This trope is nothing new — yet when it comes to stories about marginalized, underrepresented groups, we're always shoving them under a microscope. But representation done imperfectly is better than no representation at all...and maybe playing into those old binaries is what makes this movie feel universal.
I'm going to say it: You don't need to have any familiarity with South Asian culture to enjoy this movie. It's about our experience, but it really frames the experience in such a way that people see the reality: South Asian Americans aren't some fringe group. We're people who have the same hopes, fears, goals, insecurities as anyone else. We're messy and imperfect, like everybody else. We struggle with identity and long to fit in, just like everybody else.
And in its imperfect glory, The Best of The Best delivers this.
Ask Clara:
"Why is racial representation so important?"
The Double Standards of Parenting and Domestic Labor are so Real
As a journalist who covers women's health and parenting, I am very, very well aware of how deeply rooted the double standards between men and women in our society are. They're everywhere, of course, from the dating world to the workforce and beyond. Today, I'm reflecting on how they show up in the home,
But first, a little background: My husband travels pretty frequently for work, which means I hold it down at home while he's gone. I take care of our two kids, I cook meals, I clean up, I make lunches, I facilitate homework, I maintain the activity schedule, and I continue working on my career while he's gone. And I do it largely alone (for context, my kids are in elementary school). I'm not saying this to boast about how I ~do it all~ (I don't!); it's just the reality of our situation.
This week, I had planned to leave town to be there for my family during an emergency. Before I left, the requests to help my husband started pouring in: People were offering up meals, rides for our kids, babysitting, and more. I even had multiple relatives offer to fly across the country to come help care for our kids.
Do I appreciate all the offers of support? Absolutely! We are blessed to have people who want to help prop up my family during hard times.
But I also can't help but notice how different the reactions are when I am the one at home holding down the fort. When I parent alone for days at a time, nobody seems to wonder how the meals will get cooked, or how the kids will get where they need to be, or how I'll manage to care for them while working. Yet when my husband — a very, very capable father (who honestly might be better than I am in the kitchen these days) — is left to manage things at home? People seem to suddenly feel it's too much to take on.
My point here isn't that we should support men less, or stop offering to help families through challenging times. It's that we ought to think about how different the expectations are of women, and how much women are expected to do without offers of support or help.
The Double Standards of Parenting and Domestic Labor are so Real
As a journalist who covers women's health and parenting, I am very, very well aware of how deeply rooted the double standards between men and women in our society are. They're everywhere, of course, from the dating world to the workforce and beyond. Today, I'm reflecting on how they show up in the home,
But first, a little background: My husband travels pretty frequently for work, which means I hold it down at home while he's gone. I take care of our two kids, I cook meals, I clean up, I make lunches, I facilitate homework, I maintain the activity schedule, and I continue working on my career while he's gone. And I do it largely alone (for context, my kids are in elementary school). I'm not saying this to boast about how I ~do it all~ (I don't!); it's just the reality of our situation.
This week, I had planned to leave town to be there for my family during an emergency. Before I left, the requests to help my husband started pouring in: People were offering up meals, rides for our kids, babysitting, and more. I even had multiple relatives offer to fly across the country to come help care for our kids.
Do I appreciate all the offers of support? Absolutely! We are blessed to have people who want to help prop up my family during hard times.
But I also can't help but notice how different the reactions are when I am the one at home holding down the fort. When I parent alone for days at a time, nobody seems to wonder how the meals will get cooked, or how the kids will get where they need to be, or how I'll manage to care for them while working. Yet when my husband — a very, very capable father (who honestly might be better than I am in the kitchen these days) — is left to manage things at home? People seem to suddenly feel it's too much to take on.
My point here isn't that we should support men less, or stop offering to help families through challenging times. It's that we ought to think about how different the expectations are of women, and how much women are expected to do without offers of support or help.
Does Every Woman Have a Love/Hate Relationship With Her Jeans or is it Just Me?
There are few things as satisfying as coming home and immediately taking off your jeans. We can (pretty much) all agree on that, right? That switch from denim to sweats? It's heavenly.
Recently, someone shared with me that she actually doesn't do this — she lounges around her house in jeans all the time. Like...she'll watch TV with a pair of hard pants on. This got me thinking: Are there people out there who actually find jeans...comfortable?
Personally, I would always take sweats, leggings, or even a breezy dress over jeans in terms of pure comfort. But now I'm wondering: Is this just a me thing? Is it a sign that I care more about the size on the tag than I do about how I feel in my clothing? And if that's true...am I going against everything I advocate for right here on this very column?
I guess I always assumed that jeans were just one of those things that everyone had a bit of a love/hate relationship with. We like the way they look, the structure they give an outfit, but not the way they feel. Maybe, despite one woman's assertion that she finds denim pants comfortable enough to lounge in (diabolical, IMO), everyone finds jeans low-key uncomfortable.
But if that's still true, I've got to ask: Were jeans just not built for women's bodies? Have we been forcing ourselves into this item of clothing that was never built with our proportions in mind, only to be told this item is a standard, an essential, a wardrobe staple?
Because let's face it, jeans often fall into one of two categories: They either fit you great visually, yet squeeze when you sit down, restrict your movement, and generally make you feel like you can't fully relax...or they feel relatively comfortable, but bag out and just don't look as...ugh, okay fine I'm going to say the word: Flattering.
Listen, if you've stuck with me this long, thank you. I can't believe I'm doing all this about whether jeans are comfortable or not, but bare with me. There's a point i'm trying to make. At least I think there is.
And that point? It's that jeans (like so many other things), weren't made with women's bodies and needs and comfort in mind. We've been conditioned to think we are the problem, but maybe the problem is that an item of clothing with so much structure, where fit is of the essence, ought to executed with a real understanding of how a woman's body is shaped. And it kind of feels like...they're just not. More often than not, jeans just don't quite feel like they were made for us.
Let's face it: Women's bodies are far more complex, more nuanced than men's. I've never heard a man say jeans are uncomfortable, or that they feel too tight in certain places and too loose in others, or that they gap in the waist or don't fit right on their bloated days, for example.
Jeans, the way they're made, the way they look vs the way they feel, the way we've been conditioned to prioritize the former over the latter when we shop for them...it all means something.
Ask Clara:
"Do most women have body image issues?"