- 4,49 €
A NEW YORK TIMES BEST SELLER • “A must-read...Phoebe Robinson discusses race and feminism in such a funny, real, and specific way, it penetrates your brain and stays with you.”—Ilana Glazer, co-creator and co-star of Broad City
A hilarious and timely essay collection about race, gender, and pop culture from comedy superstar and 2 Dope Queens podcaster Phoebe Robinson
Being a black woman in America means contending with old prejudices and fresh absurdities every day. Comedian Phoebe Robinson has experienced her fair share over the years: she's been unceremoniously relegated to the role of “the black friend,” as if she is somehow the authority on all things racial; she's been questioned about her love of U2 and Billy Joel (“isn’t that...white people music?”); she's been called “uppity” for having an opinion in the workplace; she's been followed around stores by security guards; and yes, people do ask her whether they can touch her hair all. the. time. Now, she's ready to take these topics to the page—and she’s going to make you laugh as she’s doing it.
Using her trademark wit alongside pop-culture references galore, Robinson explores everything from why Lisa Bonet is “Queen. Bae. Jesus,” to breaking down the terrible nature of casting calls, to giving her less-than-traditional advice to the future female president, and demanding that the NFL clean up its act, all told in the same conversational voice that launched her podcast, 2 Dope Queens, to the top spot on iTunes. As personal as it is political, You Can't Touch My Hair examines our cultural climate and skewers our biases with humor and heart, announcing Robinson as a writer on the rise.
One of Glamour's “Top 10 Books of 2016”
Robinson, a stand-up comedian and host of the WNYC podcast 2 Dope Queens, brings a funny and original voice to her debut book of essays, combining personal experience with social commentary on race, gender, and pop culture. Moving, poignant, witty, and funny, Robinson takes on America's "tumultuous" relationship with African-American hair, providing a history of black hair on the stage and screen as well as her own relationship with her hair (she didn't go natural until after she finished high school). In other essays, she rants about the way the NFL treats women, discusses the demands she'd make on the first female U.S. president, and explains how to avoid being the token black friend. Robinson reveals how she uses her humor to survive the indignities that go along with being black in America, such as being followed around while shopping in stores or being called "uppity" for expressing her wishes to a white director. This is a promising debut by a talented, genuinely funny writer.