Thanks to University of North Carolina Press and NetGalley for permission to read this work prior to its release date. “Black Girls and How We Fail Them” reads like a dissertation of the societal structures and media representations that inform and inhibit Black girlhood. From TV, movies to iconic Black women and their daughters, Halliday breaks down the stereotypes and expectations placed on them. The author shares her own stories of trauma and provides a comprehensive bibliography for further study. It’s not a happy read, but an important one.

This was an interesting read and I appreciated the author's ability to use modern references to discuss misogynoir. It's allowed me to look at the ways black women and girls are portrayed in many scenarios differently, and recognize this occurring.

Thank you so much to NetGalley and the publisher for a chance to read this book.

Black Girls and How We Fail Them by Aria S. Halliday is a searing and necessary cultural critique that dissects how society continuously fails Black girls—not only through systemic violence and neglect but also through the narratives we consume and perpetuate. Halliday’s work is both deeply personal and universally resonant, blending feminist theory, cultural analysis, and sharp social commentary in a way that demands attention. This is not just a book—it’s a call to action, a reckoning, and an affirmation of Black girlhood in its complexity, joy, and vulnerability.

Halliday’s writing is incisive yet accessible, making complex theoretical concepts feel deeply relevant to everyday readers. She doesn’t simply present statistics or academic findings; she weaves them into cultural moments that are fresh in our collective memory—media coverage of Malia and Sasha Obama’s adolescence, the online harassment of prominent Black girls, and the cinematic framing of young Black girls in works like A Wrinkle in Time. These examples make her critique hit home, highlighting how insidious and pervasive the mistreatment of Black girls truly is.

One of the most powerful aspects of Halliday’s work is how she lays bare the historical context that informs today’s narratives. She unpacks how Black girlhood has long been viewed through a lens of disposability and how this perception bleeds into everything—from the vilification of outspoken young women to the romanticization of their trauma in films meant to evoke empathy for others rather than centering their humanity. Halliday is particularly adept at showing how even "diverse" representation can reinforce harmful tropes if it isn’t approached with care and authenticity.

Halliday’s discussion of celebrity Black girls like the Obama sisters is especially poignant. She captures how these girls, despite their privilege, were still subjected to an unprecedented level of public scrutiny and dehumanization, revealing that no amount of wealth or visibility can shield Black girls from the collective gaze that seeks to reduce them. This example underscores one of the book’s most damning arguments: Black girls are not afforded the grace or innocence that other girls receive—they are, instead, forced to defend their very girlhood.

The analysis also doesn’t shy away from critiquing beloved aspects of Black culture, such as hip-hop and film, showing how internalized narratives of toughness and hypersexualization can reinforce the same misogynoir present in broader society. Yet Halliday writes with love and hope, not just critique. She urges us to reimagine how Black girls are represented in media—not as vessels for pain, but as fully realized human beings deserving of joy, vulnerability, and care.

One of the book’s triumphs is its holistic approach. Halliday isn’t simply lamenting injustice—she’s mapping a path toward a future where Black girls are seen, supported, and cherished. Her conclusions are actionable and urgent, appealing to readers across spectrums: parents, educators, cultural creators, and anyone with an investment in building a just society.

If there’s a critique to be made, it’s that some of the pop culture references may feel dated as time moves forward, though they are emblematic of larger patterns that remain relevant. Additionally, readers unfamiliar with academic discussions of feminism and media studies may need to pause to fully digest certain theoretical frameworks, but Halliday’s clear and compassionate voice makes it easy to stay engaged.

At 5 stars, Black Girls and How We Fail Them is a groundbreaking, heart-wrenching, and empowering work that refuses to let us look away from the injustices Black girls face. Aria S. Halliday holds a mirror up to society and asks us to reckon with our complicity while offering a vision of what could be possible if we chose to love and protect Black girls rather than exploit and ignore them. This is a book that should be on reading lists everywhere—not just for scholars and cultural analysts, but for anyone who cares about justice, representation, and the lives of Black girls. Our future, as Halliday so urgently reminds us, depends on it.

I got this as an arc on Netgalley and it will come out in February. This is an extremely important book that discusses the misogynoir released on Black girls through media analysis. It was extremely eye opening and still easy to follow (despite me suddenl struggling with non fiction texts atm since a new covid infection recently).

The book (and course) that I wish I had in college. By analyzing the use of “misogynoir” (the combined force of anti-Black racism and misogyny aimed toward Black women) through a modern cultural lens, the author shines a light on how the popular representations of Black girls in songs, movies, social media, and TV shows characterize them as ultimately disposable unless they are in service of others. Modern references give the reader a tangible association to the very strong, carefully sourced points. Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC in return for my honest opinion.