Olivia: Alright Jackson, before we dive in, what's the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the title The Second Sex? Jackson: Honestly? It sounds like the most intimidating book on the planet. Like it's 800 pages of pure, uncut French existential dread, and I'm going to be quizzed on it afterwards. Olivia: You're not wrong about the reputation! And that’s exactly why we’re tackling it today. We are diving into Simone de Beauvoir's monumental 1949 book, The Second Sex. Jackson: Right, the one that basically kick-started second-wave feminism and got itself banned by the Vatican. That's a pretty solid resume for a book. Olivia: It’s an incredible resume. And Beauvoir, a leading existentialist philosopher at the time, wrote this entire 800-page masterpiece in just about 14 months. The sheer intellectual firepower is staggering. And it all starts with one deceptively simple, world-changing idea. Jackson: Okay, I'm braced for the existential dread. Hit me with it.

Olivia: It begins with a fundamental question: why is woman "the Other"? Beauvoir points out this profound, almost invisible asymmetry in how we think and speak. Humanity is "mankind." A man is never asked to define himself as a man; he’s just the default, the universal. He is the Subject, the Absolute. Jackson: Huh. And a woman is always… a woman. She's the variation on the theme, not the theme itself. I see that. We say "actress," not just "actor." "Poetess." We mark the difference. Olivia: Precisely. Man is the Self; woman is the Other. She isn't seen as an autonomous being. She is defined and differentiated with reference to man, not he with reference to her. She is the inessential, incidental being, while he is the essential. Jackson: That’s a heavy concept. It feels like you’re saying this isn't just a social quirk, but the entire operating system of society. Where does something that fundamental even come from? Olivia: Beauvoir argues it’s baked into our oldest stories. Take the ancient Babylonian creation myth. You have Tiamat, the mother goddess, a symbol of the chaotic, primordial sea. She gives birth to the gods. But then her descendant, the male god Bel-Marduk, challenges her. He slays her in a frightful battle, slices her body in two, and uses the pieces to create the heavens and the earth. Jackson: Whoa. So, the world is literally built on the corpse of the female principle. That’s… not subtle. It's the ultimate story of male order conquering female chaos. Olivia: It's the perfect mythological justification for patriarchy. And this isn't just about myths. Beauvoir argues this dynamic arose from the very values humanity created. Early humans didn't just want to survive; they wanted to transcend. Jackson: Okay, hold on. 'Transcendence' and 'Immanence.' That sounds like something from a sci-fi movie. Break that down for me. Olivia: Think of it this way. Immanence is the state of just being—like an animal, repeating the cycle of life. It’s passive. Transcendence is the act of becoming—shaping the world, creating new things, risking your life for a project. It’s active. Hunting a mammoth, inventing a tool, going to war—these were acts of transcendence. Jackson: And giving birth? Olivia: That was seen as immanence. Essential for the species, yes, but a natural, repetitive process. It tied woman to the body, to the species, while man's projects allowed him to rise above his animal nature. He wasn't just giving life; he was risking his life to create a future. And society decided that risking life was more valuable than giving it. Jackson: So the guy who throws a spear at a bison gets more glory than the woman who ensures there’s a next generation to eat the bison. Because his act is a choice, a project, and hers is seen as just… biology. Olivia: Exactly. He asserts his existence. She merely repeats life. In that value judgment, man becomes the Subject, and woman, tied to biology, becomes the Other. It's the foundational crack in the structure of humanity.

Jackson: That makes a disturbing amount of sense. But it still feels like it comes back to biology, to physical differences. Men were stronger, so they hunted. Women had babies, so they stayed home. Isn't that just… nature? Olivia: Ah, and that is the perfect pivot to Beauvoir's most famous line and our second core idea: "One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman." Jackson: The big one. I’ve seen that on a thousand tote bags. Olivia: And for good reason! She argues that biology, psychology, and history aren't the causes of women's subordination. They are the justifications invented after the fact. Society uses these "facts" to create the "eternal feminine"—this myth that women are naturally passive, emotional, and suited for domestic life. Jackson: It’s like drawing a target around an arrow that’s already hit the wall and saying you're a great archer. Olivia: A perfect analogy. Take psychoanalysis. Freud comes along with the concept of "penis envy." He sees little girls upset that they don't have what their brothers have and builds a whole theory of female development around this idea of a fundamental lack. Jackson: Right, the idea that women feel like incomplete men. It always sounded a bit… weird. Olivia: Beauvoir’s take is brilliant. She says, of course girls feel this! But they don't envy the anatomical organ. They envy the privilege it symbolizes. The little boy is told he'll be a great man, he can pee standing up like his powerful father, his adventures are encouraged. The little girl is told to be pretty, be quiet, be helpful. She envies the boy's freedom, his future, his transcendence. The penis is just the symbol of the world of privilege she is denied access to. Jackson: So 'penis envy' is really 'privilege envy.' That makes so much more sense! It’s not a psychological flaw; it’s a perfectly rational response to an unjust situation. Olivia: Exactly. She tells the story of a woman named Florrie, who as a child was fascinated and aggrieved by her brothers' ability to urinate standing up. To her, it was a symbol of their superiority and control. This feeling, combined with other experiences, shaped her entire adult sexuality in complex ways. It wasn't about the organ; it was about the power it represented. Jackson: Wow. That reframes the whole thing. But this is where some of the modern critiques of the book come in, isn't it? Her analysis is so rooted in the experience of a certain type of European woman. Does this 'privilege envy' framework really hold up when you factor in race, or class, or different cultures? Olivia: That is an absolutely essential and valid criticism. Later feminists, particularly women of color and post-colonial thinkers, pointed out that Beauvoir’s "Woman" is often a white, middle-class, European woman. The experience of a Black woman in America or a working-class woman in a factory is vastly different. They showed that oppression is intersectional—that race, class, and gender compound each other. Beauvoir laid the foundation, but the house needed a lot more rooms. Jackson: So she gave us the operating system, but others had to write the code for different users. Olivia: A great way to put it. And while the framework has its limitations, the psychological consequences she describes for those living within that specific gilded cage are chillingly accurate. This brings us to the devastating price women pay for being trapped in this state of immanence.

Jackson: The gilded cage. So you're told you're a queen, but you're locked in the castle. What does that do to a person's mind? Olivia: It forces them to find meaning in inauthentic ways. If you can't build your identity through your own projects—through transcendence—you're forced to build it through other means. Beauvoir highlights two major ones: narcissism and love. Jackson: Narcissism I get. The obsession with appearance. Olivia: But it's deeper than vanity. For Beauvoir, the narcissistic woman is forced to alienate herself in her own image. Her body becomes her project, the mirror her primary tool. She doesn't do, she is. Her value isn't in what she creates, but in how she is seen. It's a desperate attempt to find a sense of self, but it's an empty one, because it's entirely dependent on the gaze of others. Jackson: And love? That sounds like a good thing. Olivia: Not the way Beauvoir describes it. For the woman trapped in immanence, love becomes a religion. She doesn't seek a partner; she seeks a savior, a god. She abdicates her entire self to this man, hoping that by merging with him, she can gain access to the transcendence he possesses. She wants to live through him. Jackson: That's… terrifying. It's not a relationship; it's a hostile takeover of the self. Olivia: It's a total abdication. And there is no more powerful or heartbreaking example of this than the life of Sophia Tolstoy, wife of the great writer Leo Tolstoy. Jackson: I only know him as the author of War and Peace. What was her story? Olivia: Sophia was brilliant, passionate, and artistic. But she married Tolstoy and was immediately plunged into the isolation of his country estate. Her diary is a devastating record of a soul slowly dying. She writes about "awful emptiness and boredom," feeling she "does not exist" for her husband. She becomes consumed by a jealous, possessive love because, as she writes, she has "nothing else to love." Her entire existence becomes managing his estate, copying his manuscripts, and bearing his 13 children. Jackson: Thirteen children. My god. Olivia: Her life became what she called a "long lament." She felt her potential was wasted, and her relationship with Tolstoy curdled into bitterness and resentment. She was the perfect wife, the perfect mother, by 19th-century standards. And she was profoundly, existentially miserable. She was living proof of the tragedy of a life confined to immanence. Jackson: That's just tragic. It's the slow death of a soul. And you can still see echoes of this today, right? The cultural narrative that a woman's ultimate achievement is her wedding day, that her greatest project is her family. It’s a much prettier cage now, but the bars are still there.

Olivia: The bars are absolutely still there, just often more subtle. Beauvoir saw it clearly. She argued that the only way out of the cage is through concrete freedom. Jackson: So, after all this, what is the way out? Is it just about getting a job? Olivia: A job is a critical first step. Economic independence, for Beauvoir, is the foundation. It breaks the parasitic bond and allows a woman to engage with the world on her own terms. But it's not the whole story. She knew that even independent women still faced a "divided" existence, torn between professional ambition and the lingering demands of traditional femininity. Jackson: The "second shift." The pressure to be a boss in the boardroom and still be the perfect, nurturing mother and wife at home. Olivia: Exactly. So for Beauvoir, true liberation isn't just about women changing. It requires a fundamental societal transformation. It's about creating a world where motherhood is supported, where sexual double standards are eliminated, and where difference between the sexes doesn't imply a hierarchy. The ultimate goal isn't a battle of the sexes, but a genuine fraternity. Jackson: A world where everyone gets to be a 'Subject.' Where we can all pursue transcendence. Olivia: A world where a woman can be fully human and fully a woman, without the two being in contradiction. It's a radical, powerful vision. And even over 70 years later, it forces us to ask: in what subtle ways do we still see the world through this lens of Subject and Other? Jackson: It's a huge question, and one that doesn't have easy answers. We'd love to hear your thoughts. Find us on our socials and let us know what resonated. Where do you still see the 'Other' in your world? Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.