Books like Women of Blaxploitation — picked by fans

This book has been central to my research on women in Science Fiction although I am not a Horror fan.

Given how often women are thrown through gendered-based violence in different genres, Clover’s study brings many useful points for not only Horror itself, but also thrillers, action films, and Fantasy.

It investigates different facets of women’s representation and their fight against sexualized trials. My favorite chapters are those on the body in the slasher film, the discussion on women’s stories versus men’s stories, and the revenge narrative.

LaSalle’s book made me fall in love with Pre-Code Hollywood despite having been in film and media studies for 20 years.

His in-depth study of many famous actresses during this era such as Greta Garbo, Norma Shearer, and Jean Harlow, shows how freer women could be on screen for their life choices. 

The later chapters address the lasting impact of the Code era on the representation of women and their agency, even on contemporary movies. As he discusses it, the Code caused the decline of “socially responsive women’s pictures.”

To say I had high expectations of this book would be an understatement and it certainly delivered!

Although quite niche, this book gives us a detailed look into professional women and women scientists, among other roles, in 1950s Science Fiction B movies. 

Although we often believe that more recent films are more progressive, Noonan shows how even gender limitations in the 1950s still provided room for qualified women to shine in different scientific fields, both in traditional and pioneering roles. She also studies how women could have important roles at the periphery of science like computer operators or darkroom technicians.

This is a must-read if you are interested in women investigators in mainstream film, B movies, niche genres, or television.

Gates studies over 300 films and goes back to not only early cinema but even to 19th-century fiction that brought certain figures such as the sleuth, to the screen several decades later. 

By exploring the evolution of women detectives, Gates addresses various topics such as women in the workforce, intellectual women, age, race, and sexuality. This historical analysis played a key role in my research on Scully beyond the chapter on women criminalists such as Clarice Starling in The Silence of the Lambs.

This book brilliantly tells the story of the guerilla warfare that Black people waged against the purveyors of slavery in the antebellum South. It belies the White establishment’s portrayal of the compliant, intellectually challenged Negro who was content to live under the necessary guidance and protection of his or her master.

In fact, a sprawling network of underground freedom fighters developed secret codes, signs, and escape routes that enabled them to thwart the system that strove to keep them in chains. The book’s protagonist, Liz Spocott, is a “dreamer” who is able to see the future.

This book helped me understand that fiction writers are also dreamers, capable of seeing worlds that do not yet exist, and pushed me to join their ranks.

A novel in verse with a thrilling magical bent, this book defied all my expectations while somehow exceeding them.

Out of all the books on my list, this one is the most blatantly magical, but the wild happenings are so woven into the contemporary setting that they feel believable. I also love how this book deals with two protagonists who struggle with depression and grief in different ways and find ways to support each other without belittling the intensity of each other’s suffering. Add in a satisfying plot twist, and this book is a soulful, brilliant ride.

I knew about the history of enslaved people and the institution of slavery in the Americas. Still, until I read Jones’ book, I did not appreciate how slavery affected African-American women’s lives in so many different ways, even after the institution itself formally ended. 

I also gained a new understanding of their bravery, ingenuity, persistence, and contributions to their communities and American society more generally. Jones tells their stories with empathy and great wisdom, shattering stereotypes and insisting that we pay attention to these women and their lives.

This book is written by a political scientist.

It helped me to hold two truths in tension—on the one hand, that there is increasing class and geographic variation among African Americans that leads to multiple, sometimes competing agendas, and on the other hand, Black Americans still express significant political solidarity, irrespective of their other social statuses. Dawson identifies the social conditions leading to shared political goals among African Americans—what he calls “linked fate.”

While his and others’ subsequent research shows that political solidarity among African Americans is waning to some extent, Behind the Mule is still important for understanding why racial status, notwithstanding African Americans’ other statuses, continues to be a core driver of Black Americans’ political behavior. 

Like Spires, Kantrowitz is interested in the ways in which nineteenth-century African Americans made the case for being recognized as citizens. We tend to focus on stories of freedom, as if that’s what those who escaped from slavery encountered when they reached the North—but in fact they arrived to only relative freedom, and they faced an ongoing struggle for something “more than freedom.” This is the story Kantrowitz tells, focusing mainly on Black activists in Boston. The story begins with community-building efforts—establishing churches, literary societies, newspapers, and the other organizations needed to sustain a flourishing, educated, and economically-secure society. Kantrowitz introduces readers to a number of African American leaders who deserve to be much better known, heroes of American history. His core argument, though, like that of Spires, has to do with defining what the word citizenship actually means, extending it beyond basic inclusion to a determined and deeply ethical… show more.

I’ve always been an avid reader despite not having peer-aged characters who resembled or represented me when I was a child. Fast forward to when my children were little: suddenly, there existed a plethora of African-American children’s literature. With pure delight, I indulged my little ones in magnificent books featuring characters that reflected them. Want to know a secret? I read those books for myself as well as for them. Recently, when finding a young African American girl at the center of Looking for Hope, I felt a delightful connection with my inner child. Make no mistakes. The young protagonist, Hannah “Mouse” Maynard, endures a horrific life event that alters her existence, interrupts her innocence, and thrusts her into a perilous, mature journey that fails to diminish her abiding sweetness.