THE OLIVIA SLUT SHAME

Witch-burning posing as ethical standards

You probably know by now that Olivia Nuzzi wrote a book.

American Canto has been widely panned in an almost obsessive media frenzy, punishing its author for what many consider her ethical malfeasance. And what was that malfeasance, you might ask? Well, during the 2024 Presidential campaign Olivia had an affair with a politician while she was covering his candidacy for New York magazine. In doing so, she also broke vows of presumed monogamy to her then fiance, who would later write a piece to say “See who she is! And she’s done it before!”

Mon Dieu!

I’ve been through too much in my life to say anything about which person in a sexual liaison should be ashamed. That’s their business. I don’t go there. But as far as the ethical malfeasance regarding Olivia’s journalistic career, I’ve been through enough to have lots to say. No one knows more than I do what a joke it is for the American media elite to pontificate about journalistic “ethics.” In truth, among them are some of the biggest ethical whores in the world. Some of Olivia’s critics are people who will lie so casually it takes your breath away, base stories on an anonymous tweet, do the bidding of a media corporation or a political party at the expense of anything even approaching truth. Most of Olivia Nuzzi’s critics have no right to say a word.

It’s not like she lied us into war or led us into economic collapse or traveled to Epstein Island. All of which, by the way, were aided and abetted by the ineptitude, complacency - and yes, ethical malfeasance - of the same journalistic elite now taking such pleasure in lighting a match beneath her career.

The American media taking any kind of victory lap at this point, as though they’ve finally routed out the corruption from their midst by ruining Olivia Nuzzi’s book launch, is preposterous. Her transgression was more pathetic than it was a threat to the Republic. There something about the animus now directed towards her that is clearly out of proportion with her mistake.

The ugly truth is this: there is a slice of American culture that cannot stand women. Particularly the beautiful, the sexual, the mysterious, the naughty. Oh they like all of that when we’re caged, of course. When we’re reading someone else’s script or painting between the lines. They like us in the zoo, but cannot stand us in the wild.

I know this irrational animus because I’ve had it directed at me. People hate you sometimes simply because they hate you, wanting to feast on any piece of garbage thrown at you not because it’s true but because it’s titillating to their misogynistic tastes. This force of woman-hatred is one of the monsters slithering up from the bottom of things during these Dark Times, like some primal scream directed at the wrong people.

I know Olivia personally. I have a pretty good sense of who she is and who she isn’t, I think no differently than she has of me. I see both of us as decent but flawed, like most every other human being I know.

But I’m not writing this because of my personal relationship with Olivia. I’m writing because of my personal experience with the monster now trying to eat her alive. There is something untamed about Olivia, and while they try to camouflage it there is nothing so offensive to a patriarchal status quo as an untamed woman. We stopped burning women at the stake several centuries ago, but we have still not routed from Western consciousness a suspicion of the untamed woman. We just changed the consonant from “w” to “b.” Women are made radioactive by America’s media elite for a particular reason, and it’s rarely what they say it is. Many times, I don’t even think they know themselves what is actually driving them.

I’m a writer and I have friends who are writers, but we don’t always read each other’s books. I don’t even know if I would have read this one, in fact, had the storm not gotten so intense and someone I know wasn’t at the center of it. And that’s where things got strange for me. For the book is not what I expected. Yes, the part about Bobby Kennedy is in there. But having lived in Los Angeles as long as I did, hearing a woman cry over her entanglement with RFKJr. isn’t a unique sound to my ear. The book, however, is much, much bigger than that. Her affair with who she calls “the Politician” is actually a minor part of it.

American Canto is a powerful piece of writing about the American experience at a particular time and place, written by a woman who often displays a brilliant talent with words. One of my friends called it poetry. Another compared it to Faulkner. I admit, my mind went to Hunter Thompson. I think the reason so many people have chosen to hate Olivia is because to appreciate her would be too confronting. If she’s actually a good writer, with very important things to say, it’s as though they would prefer not to know.

I asked her once, “I know this sounds preposterous, but do you think they would have done this to you if you weren’t a blonde?” She responded, “No, I don’t.” And as crazy as that sounds, I think she’s right.

I don’t think most of the people who’ve criticized American Canto even read it, actually. There’s a saying often quoted in Alcoholics Anonymous, “contempt prior to investigation.” Those who have read it and reviewed it negatively have a right to their opinion, of course, but most comments from the online mob coming after Olivia suggests they haven’t read a word of the book. I know all too well the horrifying feeling of people rejecting you not because of who you are or what you’ve done, but because of some doppleganger created by your enemies with which you cannot compete. Some people feel a primal need to attack a woman at times, and since we’re not allowed to burn witches at the stake anymore they just burn you however they can.