Books like Stop Telling Women to Smile — picked by fans

For millennia, we’ve heard the stories in Greek mythology about gods who come down to earth to rape women (Zeus got around), women as seductive sirens who lure sailors to their doom, or goddesses and mortal women alike being exiled.

Because of that, I was intrigued to read this book, a retelling of the familiar narrative, but from the perspective of a woman. I found this book to be very empowering.

I identified with the main character, a woman named Circe (in actuality a goddess) who is exiled because of her powers of witchcraft. However, in her exile, she finds that leaning into her power without the judgment of others makes her stronger.

I loved reading classic Greek mythology, complete with all the familiar characters, told from a woman’s perspective.

I loved this book because it gave language to instincts I didn’t yet trust.

I read it long ago, and its stories stayed with me—not intellectually, but somatically. This book doesn’t explain women; it remembers us. Through myth and archetype, Clarissa Pinkola Estés reclaims the wild, intuitive self that so many women are trained to domesticate.

It taught me that messiness isn’t a flaw—it can be the sign of something alive trying to return.

This book was an integral resource when I began to write my book. It helped me shape the structure of my book.

F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, “If you have anything to say, anything you feel nobody has ever said before, you have got to feel it so desperately that you will find some way to say it that nobody has ever found before, so that the thing you have to say and the way of saying it blend as one matter—as indissolubly as if they were conceived together.”

This, and other books I've read, did this. My favorite books of all time have inventive structures. And reading these helped me find mine.

I happened upon this gem of an anthology in a library book sale a couple of years back, and I highly recommend trying to get your hands on a copy if you’re looking for wide-ranging inspiration and guidance on the traveler’s path. With a focus on the spiritual element of women’s journeys, and featuring literary powerhouses like Maya Angelou and Anne Lamott, this collection is an ode to feminine courage, power, and transformation. Each essay is a masterpiece, and can be a guide to a specific kind of journey. You’ll want to carry a dog-eared copy with you to come back to again and again.

Tarana Burke is the woman behind the “me too” movement and Unbound is her story.

In 2017 when #MeToo shattered the myth that sexual violence is rare, Burke had already been building the movement for over a decade. Unbound traces her growth as a community organizer and the founder of a survivor movement rooted in empathy.

Although one goal of the book is to correct the record of the “me too” origin story, Burke is more interested in a larger notion of justice. She writes movingly of the pervasiveness and damage of sexual violence, including in her own life, and the promise of healing contained in the words “me too.”

Honestly, this book helped me see patterns of sexual abuse that I recognized from my own past. 

The memoir did what narrative—fiction or non-fiction—is supposed to do. It made me feel less alone in the world. 

What struck me in an especially emotional way was that when sexual trafficking victim Virginia Giuffre had her own daughter, she was even more motivated to fight against the injustice done to her and others at the hands of Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell.

Having a daughter made her see how wrong what she went through was and how protections for vulnerable, young girls are conspicuously absent. Knowing in real life she died by suicide made the read bittersweet for me.

In trauma studies, Judith Herman is the GOAT. Truth and Repair follows up Herman’s landmark book Trauma and Recovery and cements her contribution to the study of sexual violence, healing, and justice.

Although The Body Keeps the Score became a surprise pandemic bestseller, it is Truth and Repair that updates trauma theory and clinical practice for the #MeToo era. Herman argues that justice is part of the healing process for individuals and communities.

Her feminist perspective on the real-world factors that enable sexual abuse is clear eyed and her prescription for how to connect healing and justice is ultimately hopeful.

I had not witnessed a healthy grownup relationship when I was younger. My introduction to intimacy was horrid at best, not to mention the lack of role models available to me for feminine sexual guidance. 

I spent years looking for love from other people and by means of sexual behavior that left me feeling ashamed. I lived my life based on many harmful beliefs that were self-destructive; I didn't feel I deserved to have a fully healthy relationship. 

My therapist suggested this book, and it took me on a journey of returning to where and how I learned my habitual behavior, removing the adverse judgment and allowing me to start again, especially with my current husband. Our marriage is in a lovely place, partly due to this book. 

This memoir depicts not only the manipulative and abusive relationship the author had with her coach but includes the excruciating experience of confronting her later in life and going through the process of prosecution.

As a reader, I felt Kristen’s confusion and despair as a young teenager, as well as her mixed emotions as she pursued justice and closure for years of suffering. My story never involved confrontation or litigation because my teacher passed away before I understood how he had hurt me. I ached for how hard this was for Kim and rejoiced at her eventual liberation.

Lacy Crawford’s memoir of sexual assault at the elite St. Paul’s School straddles the precarious line between lyric and reportage. Crawford shies from nothing: we are there as she is held down and orally raped by two upperclassmen; as she describes the consensual sex she undertakes in an attempt to reckon with her rape, as even her own parents abandon her.

Crawford spends the last third of the book untangling the web of documents that prove the school knew of both the assault and her resulting STI (oral herpes that went so far into her throat that doctors couldn’t identify the sores, leaving her sick for months). The horrific burning of her throat keeps her from being able to speak or sing in the school choir, a metaphor for St. Paul’s deliberate destruction of evidence of her rape and subsequent illness to ensure legal protection for her rapists and the… show more.