"Women Don't Owe You Pretty" by Florence Given

Visually appealing with vibrant designs, colourful pages, and plenty of illustrations, this book certainly delivers on the “pretty.” However, the content leaves much to be desired.

Women Don’t Owe You Pretty by Florence Given reads like a chaotic compilation of thoughts and revelations, presented with an overly defensive tone that suggests the author is still processing her newly acquired knowledge. It feels akin to flipping through the diary of a teenage girl who has just discovered a broader worldview beyond her bubble. While her excitement and eagerness to share are evident, the delivery lacks the depth and reflection necessary for tackling complex topics such as sexuality, emotional abuse, gender, assault, race, and more, all condensed into just over 200 pages.

I want to be as fair as possible to the author, as it’s clear these themes are deeply important to her. However, the book’s treatment of these vast and multi-layered subjects often comes across as naive and superficial. It surprises me how confidently some people assert their opinions as universal truths while simultaneously rejecting labels—unless those labels support their narrative. For instance, while the book includes a broad vocabulary to describe gender and sexuality, men are depicted in a stereotypical, wholly negative light, without nuance or recognition of individuality. Men are portrayed almost uniformly as threats, and the lack of balance in this perspective detracts from the book's message.

The issues Florence Given discusses are undoubtedly valid, but her approach feels overwhelmed by her newfound understanding. The result is a book that often feels overly simplistic, occasionally offensive, and overly negative. The reliance on quotes and references to lend credibility feels superficial, offering little insight beyond what one might find in an Instagram reel or a surface-level internet search. Her observations, rooted largely in Western culture and shaped by social media and popular movies, fail to capture the diverse experiences of women across different races, cultures, and social backgrounds. This limited perspective weakens the book’s overall impact.

The main issue, for me, is that the author lacks the depth of experience necessary to address such heavy topics with authority. Sharing this kind of "dangerous" knowledge—simplistic takes on complex issues—could mislead vulnerable readers. I believe that with time and more lived experiences, Florence Given may revisit this work and view it more critically. If she continues to learn and embrace the world's diversity, she could develop a more nuanced perspective in the future.

“Marriage is deeply entrenched in archaic patriarchal tradition and has its roots in an abusive, oppressive history – the ownership of a woman.” This sentence represents everything behind the content of this book: a lack of experience, sweeping generalisations, and opinions stated as facts, all wrapped in posh phrases designed to sound impactful. It’s disappointing. Earlier in the book, the author suggests treating dates like job interviews and cutting people off at the slightest sign of disrespect—like being late. Using her own logic, I wonder if she would agree to any kind of obligation, such as an influencer collaboration, without signing a contract first. What this book doesn’t fully grasp is that the world isn’t black and white—it is nuanced. Marriage, for instance, isn’t solely a tool of oppression. Apart from its romantic aspects—yes, there are men who want to marry to be equal partners, not to possess—it also provides legal protections for mistreated partners, regardless of gender. I also wonder if the author views same-sex marriage through the same critical lens. Something tells me marriage is only oppressive in her eyes when it involves heterosexual couples.

What I wished Women Don’t Owe You Pretty had been was a deeply personal account of Florence Given’s journey to finding herself—a candid exploration of her path through the conflicting emotions surrounding her sexuality and self-expression. She kind of does that—the book is based on her personal experiences, with an acknowledgment that others’ experiences exist too—but it’s delivered in the wrong way. To me, the only pages worth reading are pages 217-219. These pages are raw and teach valuable lessons about self-acceptance without resorting to clichés. They validate many of the experiences women, regardless of age or background, go through. Unlike the rest of the book, these pages aren’t patronising. Instead, they reveal the complexity of the author’s character, offering a refreshing change from the vague and highly subjective opinions found elsewhere.