An Update on My Thoughts About Women Don’t Owe You Pretty and Florence Given

I want to start this by being honest and vulnerable: my feelings about Florence Given and her book Women Don’t Owe You Pretty have changed significantly.

I haven't written this to belittle or cause issues for Florence, I'm writing this because I owe it to the community I'm building through my blog to remain honest especially when my opinions change.

When I first read the book, it felt like a revelation. It cracked open years of internalized doubt and perfectionism, challenged the way I thought about self-love, and introduced me to feminism in a way that was fresh, urgent, and deeply personal. Florence’s voice was bold, unapologetic, and fiercely honest—exactly what I needed at that moment. I celebrated her as a role model and a catalyst for my own feminist awakening.

Back then, I thought I was already a “girls’ girl”—someone who loved and supported women naturally. But living on my own in London for years showed me how much I actually needed strong female influence in my life, how much I craved real sisterhood, and how revolutionary women truly are. But growth is messy, and change is inevitable. Since then, my understanding of feminism has deepened and broadened. I’ve become more attuned to the nuances of intersectionality—the understanding that women’s experiences of oppression and empowerment are shaped by multiple, overlapping identities such as race, class, sexuality, and nationality.

This deeper awareness has made me more critical of the limitations in Florence Given’s feminism. Her platform and work, while impactful, are firmly rooted in the experience of white women and often overlook or marginalize the voices and struggles of women of colour and those from diverse cultural backgrounds. This isn’t a small oversight—it’s a profound gap in how feminism is being represented and practiced in spaces that reach millions. Let's be clear, women aren’t just “pretty” figures to look at or icons in perfectly curated Instagram photos—especially not only the white women who post bra-free selfies and vintage shopping hauls. Women are fighters, creators, nurturers, survivors, and leaders. They deserve to be celebrated for everything they are—not just for their looks or aesthetics.

It’s particularly striking to me that, as Florence’s platform has grown, her content has skewed more towards lifestyle, aesthetics, and personal branding, rather than consistently using that influence to raise awareness about systemic injustices or to amplify marginalized voices. For instance, since moving to Los Angeles—a city currently grappling with environmental crises, racial inequality, and social upheaval—her focus has been largely on vintage fashion and personal style. This disconnect raises important questions about the responsibilities that come with influence and the kinds of feminism we choose to uplift.

Through this process, I’ve realized that feminism cannot be just about individual empowerment or personal style—it must be deeply intersectional, inclusive, and collective. It must challenge structures of power that affect all women, especially those most marginalized. Otherwise, it risks becoming a shallow, exclusive brand rather than a movement for justice and equity.

While I still appreciate the role Women Don’t Owe You Pretty played in my early feminist journey, I can no longer support Florence Given’s brand of feminism without recognizing its blind spots and limitations. Updating this blog feels necessary because it reflects my own evolution and the ongoing nature of learning and unlearning. It’s a reminder that feminism—and the people we look up to within it—should never be static.

If you’re reading this and finding your own perspectives shifting, know that it’s okay to change your mind. It’s okay to re-examine who you admire and why. This kind of honest reflection is vital for growth—both personal and collective.

I want to share some writers and thinkers whose work has helped me expand my understanding of feminism—voices that are intersectional, inclusive, and deeply rooted in diverse lived experiences. Their work reminds us that feminism must be for all women, especially those marginalized by race, class, nationality, and ability:

• Bell Hooks — Ain’t I a Woman? Black Women and Feminism

• Roxane Gay — Bad Feminist

• Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie — We Should All Be Feminists

• Angela Davis — Women, Race, & Class

• Audre Lorde — Sister Outsider

• Malala Yousafzai — I Am Malala

  
  

These voices challenge us to look beyond surface-level empowerment and to embrace a feminism that is radical, inclusive, and committed to collective liberation.

Thank you for reading this update and being part of a conversation that grows and changes over time.

We all deserve a feminism that evolves with us.