Mark: Most of us think there are two types of people: normal drinkers and alcoholics. What if that's a complete lie, designed to keep us drinking? A lie that helps make the alcohol industry trillions. Michelle: Whoa, that's a bold way to start. You're saying that the entire framework we use to talk about drinking is fundamentally wrong? Mark: That's the explosive premise at the heart of Quit Like a Woman by Holly Whitaker. Michelle: And Whitaker isn't just a theorist. This book comes from her own raw, personal battle with addiction. She went on to found Tempest, a digital recovery platform, after finding that traditional, male-centric programs like AA just didn't work for her. The book became a massive bestseller, and even got a shout-out from Chrissy Teigen for helping her get sober. Mark: Exactly. She's not just telling a story; she's building a movement. And it all starts by dismantling a word we all think we understand: 'alcoholic'.

Michelle: Okay, let's go there. What does she mean 'there is no such thing as an alcoholic'? That sounds... radical. Isn't it a medical diagnosis? Mark: It is, but her point is that the label itself is more harmful than helpful. It creates this stark, black-and-white line in the sand. You're either a 'normal' social drinker, or you're a full-blown, rock-bottom 'alcoholic.' There's no in-between. And because nobody wants that label, we do mental gymnastics to prove we're on the 'normal' side, even when drinking is clearly causing problems in our lives. Michelle: That makes sense. It’s a way to avoid looking at our own behavior. As long as someone else is worse, we're fine. Mark: Precisely. She tells this incredibly vivid story about a trip to Mexico with a friend, about nine months before she quit for good. They're at a pool bar at eleven in the morning, and she's ordering double shots of tequila and Coronas. Her friend mentions a mutual acquaintance, let's call him Bob, who is a 'tragic alcoholic.' Michelle: Ah, the 'tragic alcoholic friend.' Every group has one. Mark: Right. And the friend describes Bob ruining weddings, needing pills to quit—all the classic signs. And Whitaker is listening, and she starts to see these uncomfortable parallels with her own life. But at the same time, she's cataloging all the ways she's different from Bob. She thinks, 'Well, I've never ruined a wedding. I can still hold down my job.' She's using Bob as a navigation system to prove to herself that she's okay. Michelle: Oh, that's so relatable. It's the 'at least I'm not...' game. We all do it. 'At least I don't drink in the morning,' or 'at least I have a job.' It’s a constant comparison to keep ourselves in the safe zone. Mark: And that's the trap. The book argues that this binary thinking is a gift to the alcohol industry. As long as they can point to the 'real' alcoholics, the rest of us—the vast gray area of drinkers—don't question our second glass of wine on a Tuesday or our third cocktail on a Friday. Michelle: It’s like diet culture. As long as the focus is on extreme obesity, the person who just feels vaguely unhealthy about their eating habits doesn't think they have a 'problem.' Mark: That's a perfect analogy. Whitaker argues that alcohol is heading for what she calls a 'cigarette moment.' She draws this direct line between the playbook of Big Tobacco in the 20th century and Big Alcohol today. They engineered consent, made it seem sophisticated, rebellious, and essential to social life. Michelle: So you're saying my rosé is the new Virginia Slims? Mark: In a way, yes. Especially with how it's marketed to women. The book is scathing on this point. And for Whitaker, that marketing isn't just about profit. It's about power. This is where the book gets really provocative and becomes a feminist text.

Michelle: Okay, I'm intrigued. How does a glass of wine become a feminist issue? That feels like a stretch for some people. Mark: Whitaker's argument is that alcohol is a tool of the patriarchy. It's a substance that is uniquely positioned to keep women small, quiet, and manageable. Think about the 'wine mom' culture. It's presented as this cute, funny, relatable coping mechanism for the immense stress of modern motherhood. Michelle: Right, the memes are everywhere. "Mommy's little helper," coffee mugs that say "This might be wine." It's completely normalized. Mark: It's normalized, but what is it normalizing? It's normalizing medicating the stress of systemic issues—lack of affordable childcare, unequal domestic labor, impossible beauty standards—with a depressant. Instead of getting angry and demanding change, we're encouraged to pour a glass and laugh it off. The book argues that this numbing agent prevents women from recognizing their own power and their collective anger. Michelle: Wow. When you put it like that, it's much darker than a funny meme. It's essentially sedating a revolution. Mark: Exactly. And the book backs this up with some chilling data. Between 2007 and 2017, alcohol-related deaths among women rose by 67 percent, compared to 29 percent for men. And research shows that about half of all sexual assaults involve alcohol. It impairs our judgment, lowers our defenses, and makes us more vulnerable. Michelle: That's wild. It reminds me of that story in the book about Gwyneth Paltrow and Goop. The hypocrisy is just... stunning. Mark: Tell me about it. It’s one of the most memorable parts of the book. Michelle: Whitaker points out that on a podcast, Paltrow said she couldn't in good conscience recommend a certain 'toxic eyeliner' because it might mess with a woman's endocrine system. Which sounds very responsible. Mark: Very on-brand for Goop. Michelle: But then Whitaker reveals that the Goop Health Summit was sponsored by Ketel One Botanical vodka, and the brand was promoting 'collagen-infused martinis' and 'CBD-spiked cocktails.' The disconnect is staggering. You're worried about eyeliner, but you're serving your audience literal poison? Mark: And Whitaker's punchline is brilliant. She says, "Booze fucks our shit up. More than most things. More than gluten for sure... and it fucks our shit up not only because it’s an addictive, toxic chemical, but because we live in a world where we haven’t quite caught on to that fact just yet. Even Gwyneth doesn’t know." Michelle: That's it, right there. It's so deeply embedded in our culture as 'normal' and even 'healthy-ish' that we have this massive blind spot. Mark: Which is why she frames sobriety as a radical act of resistance. It's about reclaiming your health, your mind, your money, and your power from a system that profits from you being numb and distracted. It’s a political statement.

Michelle: Okay, so if the old system is broken, especially for women, what's her solution? What does 'quitting like a woman' actually involve? It can't just be about saying no. Mark: It's not. This is the most constructive part of the book. She contrasts the traditional, male-centric model of Alcoholics Anonymous with a new, feminine-centric approach. The AA model, she argues, was created by and for upper-class white men in the 1930s. Its core tenets are about ego deflation, surrendering to a higher power, and admitting you're powerless. Michelle: Which, for a privileged man in the 1930s who probably had an over-inflated ego, might have been exactly what he needed to hear. Mark: Precisely. But Whitaker asks: what about women? What about people of color, or queer people? People who have been told their entire lives that they are 'too much' and 'not enough' at the same time. Society has already crushed their egos. The last thing they need is a program that tells them to get smaller and quieter. Michelle: That’s a powerful point. So what’s the alternative? Mark: Her framework is about building yourself up, not breaking yourself down. It’s founded on principles of self-advocacy, self-trust, and self-practice. She tells this story about being at a 'She Recovers' symposium, where a speaker was going on about the importance of humility. And Whitaker is sitting in the audience of 500 women, just fuming. She thinks, 'We are taught humility from birth. We are taught to be accommodating, to be selfless, to put others first. We don't need more humility. We need to learn how to take up space.' Michelle: I love that. It's about reclaiming your worthiness. But what does that look like in practice? 'Mothering yourself' sounds nice, but what does it mean when you're having a crisis and just want a drink? Mark: She gives a fantastic, messy, real-world example. She calls it 'choosing guilt over resentment.' After a long, draining trip with her mother, who has mobility issues, she was supposed to drive her mom on a five-hour round trip to a train station. She was overwhelmed, exhausted, and knew that doing it would fill her with resentment, which was a huge trigger for her drinking. Michelle: I know that feeling. The feeling of being obligated to do something that will just drain you completely. Mark: So her mother offered to take a bus instead. And Whitaker, fighting every instinct, said yes. She put her mother on a bus and was immediately flooded with what she calls 'massive guilt.' But she realized that guilt was the better option. Resentment would have festered and likely led her to drink. Guilt, on the other hand, was a clean pain she could process and move on from. That, she says, is an act of 'mothering yourself'—protecting your own well-being, even when it's hard and feels selfish. Michelle: Wow. That's not a neat and tidy solution. It's complicated and human. It’s not about being a perfect, serene yogi. It's about making the hard choice in a messy moment to protect your own peace. Mark: Exactly. Her whole approach is about building a life you don't need to escape from. It's about addressing the root causes—the trauma, the anxiety, the lack of connection—that made you reach for a drink in the first place. It's not a program; it's a practice of self-creation.

Michelle: It seems the book's real message is that quitting alcohol isn't the end of a life, but the start of one. It's not about what you're giving up, but what you're gaining: clarity, power, and an authentic self. Mark: Exactly. Whitaker's challenge isn't just 'Am I an alcoholic?' The real question she wants us to ask is, 'Is alcohol getting in the way of the life I want to live?' And she argues that for many of us, the answer is yes, even if we don't realize it. Michelle: It's a profound shift in perspective. It moves the conversation from a place of shame and pathology to one of empowerment and possibility. It’s not about fixing something that’s broken in you, but about removing something that’s holding you back from being whole. Mark: And that's why the book has resonated so deeply. It gives people, especially women, a new language and a new framework to understand their own lives. It's permission to stop trying to fit into a world that was designed to keep them thirsty. Michelle: It makes you wonder... what parts of our lives are we numbing, and what could we build if we were fully present? Mark: A question worth sitting with. This is Aibrary, signing off.