With the release of Andrew Dominik's controversial film "Blonde," an adaptation of Joyce Carol Oates' equally controversial novel fictionalizing the life of Marilyn Monroe, there's been an impassioned cultural outcry against what many people see as the reduction of Marilyn to pure victimhood. Never one to shy away from merrily dumping kerosene all over discourse and lighting her match, writer-director-cringe Tweeter Lena Dunham penned an essay for Vogue titled, "What Marilyn Monroe Means to Me." Unsurprisingly, the essay is more about what it means to be Lena Dunham at 36, the age Marilyn Monroe was when she died (though Dunham does take pains to remind readers that she is, in fact, "36 and a half").
Unlike Marilyn Monroe, I'm able to defend myself against Dunham's destructive, essentialist take on infertility and self-worth.
