A transformative book urging twenty-first century-women to embrace their anger and harness it as a tool for lasting personal and societal change. Women are angry, and it isn’t hard to figure out why. We are underpaid and overworked. Too sensitive, or not sensitive enough. Too dowdy or too made-up. Too big or too thin. Sluts or prudes. We are harassed, told we are asking for it, and asked if it would kill us to smile. Yes, yes it would. Contrary to the rhetoric of popular “self-help” and an entire lifetime of being told otherwise, our rage is one of the most important resources we have, our sharpest tool against both personal and political oppression. We’ve been told for so long to bottle up our anger, letting it corrode our bodies and minds in ways we don’t even realize. Yet our anger is a vital instrument, our radar for injustice and a catalyst for change. On the flip side, the societal and cultural belittlement of our anger is a cunning way of limiting and controlling our power. We are so often told to resist our rage or punished for justifiably expressing it, yet how many remarkable achievements in this world would never have gotten off the ground without the kernel of anger that fueled them? Rage Becomes Her makes the case that anger is not what gets in our way, it is our way, sparking a new understanding of one of our core emotions that will give women a liberating sense of why their anger matters and connect them to an entire universe of women no longer interested in making nice at all costs. Following in the footsteps of classic feminist manifestos like The Feminine Mystique and Our Bodies, Ourselves, Rage Becomes Her is an eye-opening book for the twenty-first century woman: an engaging, accessible credo offering us the tools to re-understand our anger and harness its power to create lasting positive change.

From the New York Times bestselling author of Kaikeyi, a galvanizing stand-alone contemporary fantasy following a burnt-out reproductive health care worker as she fights back against escalating attacks on her clinic and the malevolent forces in hot pursuit of her newly acquired power. As a reproductive health care worker in Chicago, Nisha is barely staying afloat in the ocean of abortion bans, screaming protestors, and her own all-consuming depression. When she escapes to the Indian art exhibit at her favorite museum for a brief respite, Nisha suddenly finds herself bleeding, disoriented, and collapsed on the ground. The last thing she remembers is the statue that beckoned her to touch it. In the days that follow, Nisha feels a strange power coursing within her, one that attracts a host of dangerous and enigmatic characters who covet it for themselves. Facing threats both otherworldly and distinctly human, Nisha must navigate uncertain alliances to piece together the centuries-old mystery of her odd and terrifying abilities. And as danger closes in on her loved ones, community, and the clinic she’s determined to protect, Nisha must make a choice about the life she wants—and fight all the demons standing in her way to get it.

A compelling, intelligent, and timely exploration of the horror genre from one of Columbia University’s most popular professors, shedding light on how classic horror films demonstrate larger cultural attitudes about women’s rights, bodily autonomy, and more.In May of 2022, Columbia University’s Dr. Eleanor Johnson watched along with her students as the Supreme Court reversed Roe v. Wade. At the same time, her class was studying the 1968 horror film Rosemary’s Baby and Johnson had a sudden horror cinema engages directly with the combustive politics of women’s rights and offer a light through the darkness and an outlet to scream. With a voice as persuasive as it is insightful, Johnson reveals how classics like Rosemary’s Baby, The Exorcist, and The Shining expose and critique issues of reproductive control, domestic violence, and patriarchal oppression. Scream with Me weaves these iconic films into the fabric of American feminism, revealing that true horror often lies not in the supernatural, but in the familiar confines of the home, exposing the deep-seated fears and realities of women’s lives. While on the one hand a joyful celebration of seminal and beloved horror films, Scream with Me is also an unflinching and timely recognition of the power of this genre to shape and reflect cultural dialogues about gender and power.

Accused of “promiscuity” in 1940s North Carolina, a young woman unjustly incarcerated and subjected to involuntary medical treatment at The State Industrial Farm Colony for Women decides to fight back in this powerful, shockingly timely novel based on the long-buried history of the American Plan, the government program designed to regulate women’s bodies and sexuality throughout the first half of the 20th century. The day Ruth Foster’s life changes begins the same way as many others—with a walk through her North Carolina hometown toward the diner where she works. But on this day, Ruth is stopped by the local sheriff, who insists that she accompany him to a health clinic. Women like Ruth—young, unmarried, living alone—must undergo testing in order to preserve decency and prevent the spread of sexual disease. Though Ruth has never shared more than a chaste kiss with a man, by day’s end she is one of dozens of women held at the State Industrial Farm Colony for Women. Some, like 15-year-old Stella Temple, are brought in at their family’s request. For Stella, even the Colony’s hardships seem like a respite from her nightmarish home life. Superintendent Dorothy Baker, convinced that she’s transforming degenerate souls into upstanding members of society, oversees the women’s medical treatment and “training” until they’re deemed ready for parole. Sooner or later, everyone at the Colony learns to abide by Mrs. Baker’s rule book or face the consequences—solitary confinement, grueling work assignments, and worse. But some refuse to be cowed. Against Mrs. Baker’s dogged efforts and the punishing weight of authority, Ruth and other inmates find ways to fight back, resolved to regain their freedom at any cost . . .

A smart and thought-provoking memoir, history, and cultural critique about the turmoil and complexity of female friendship Our culture today is inundated with narratives about the strength of female friendship, whether through images of girl power, BFFs, or work wives. Yet cultural historian Tiffany Watt Smith has always found her own life much messier. She has had dramatic friend breakups, friendships that felt like too much or not enough, friendships that drifted into silence, and friendships built on convenience rather than a meeting of minds. And there are older cultural scripts to contend the competitive rival, the jealous backstabber, the underminer, the fair-weather friend. We have all been bad friends. It’s impossible to be a perfect one; as Watt Smith points out, women’s friendships have long been magnified, scrutinized, praised, and admonished, creating a legacy of impossible ideals. In Bad Friend, Watt Smith reflects on her own experience and thoroughly mines the rich cultural history of female friendship to look for a new paradigm that might encompass the struggles along with the joy.

A wickedly funny, adrenaline-rush of a novel about a graduate student who murders bad men and justifies it in the name of feminism, by a bold new voice in fiction Yrsa is in a funk. She’s bored of her PhD program, bored of her research on Afropessimism, bored of the entitled undergrads she has to cater to. But most of all, she’s bored of the men in her life—especially the bad ones. When her best friend, Nina, confesses to having an affair with her professor, and that he’s stolen her research, Yrsa is mad. On the quad, Yrsa bumps into the professor and witnesses his an unfortunate incident involving his San Pellegrino and a bee allergy. What she sees that afternoon awakens something in a taste for murder. Emboldened, Yrsa decides to chase that high, and soon, no sexist, misbehaving man within commuting distance is safe. With each murder, Yrsa feels a greater sense of meaning and purpose—finally, her doctoral research feels useful. But how long can killing in the name of feminist and racial solidarity justify her actions? Will her rampage ever assuage her feelings of rage and revenge? And how long until her actions—and buried family secrets—come back to haunt her?