Women are not a monolith, but there is one thing we share: We have never needed to tuck our genitals.
That is not the case for Dylan Mulvaney, who writes exhaustedly about the practice in the new memoir “Paper Doll: Notes from a Late Bloomer” — in which the trans influencer takes us into the tumultuous year when he became a “she.”
If I may suggest an alternative title, “TMI: Heavy on the Business Below the Belt and Light on the Stuff in Between the Ears.”
“Day one of being a girl and I’ve already cried three times. I wrote a scathing email that I didn’t send, I bought dresses online that I couldn’t afford, and when someone asked me how I was, I said, ‘I’m fine’ when I wasn’t fine,” Mulvaney writes. “How’d I do, ladies?”
If you’re hoping for genuine introspection or insight, look elsewhere.
The nauseatingly pink book, with gingham print edging its 263 pages, is a study in narcissism and a deep desire for fame and public affirmation.
Mulvaney’s passionate love of musical theater was sparked by a stage performance of “The Grinch.” The influencer was just 3 years old. “From then on, the only thing I could think about was getting up on that stage,” the 28-year-old writes.
Thus ensued a lifetime of chasing the spotlight and becoming a drama world “It boy.” And then, suddenly, poof: an “It girl.”
Mulvaney writes about coming out three times — first as gay, then as nonbinary and then (finally?) as trans. The latter seems to have stuck because it netted the most attention, the most mainstream notoriety and the most validation.
The California native litters the pages with celebrity name-drops: singing in a cabaret with Josh Groban and “Snow White” star Rachel Zegler; FaceTiming with “Queer Eye” star Jonathan Van Ness.
Not to mention the time Kathy Hilton said she “woulda bet a million dollars” Mulvaney was “born a girl. God, you’re stunning, sweetie.”
In fact, there’s a running theme of tallying up compliments. (“You’re the most stunning girl in the place,” a British reality star tells her.)
When we get to the infamous 2023 Bud Light — referred to only as “Generic Beer Brand” in the book — partnership that became an atom bomb in America’s culture war, it’s as shallow as everything else.
Mulvaney, who had been doing social media partnerships with companies like Nike and Kate Spade, claims Tiffany’s and a beer brand were the ultimate goal. The reason for the latter? “It’s contradictory to my overall aesthetic, and I love to surprise people.”
You no doubt remember what happened. Cosplaying Audrey Hepburn, Mulvaney posted a video announcing the news on April 1, 2023; once people realized it wasn’t an April Fool’s joke, the backlash was swift.
Kid Rock infamously shot up cases of beer. A national boycott led to tanking sales. Bud Light’s parent company, InBev, reportedly lost $1.4 billion in revenue, leading to hundreds of employees being laid off.
Mulvaney, meanwhile, was only worried about one person.
“After feeling disappointed by the statements released by Generic Beer brand, where I personally felt they did not condemn hate toward the trans community, I no longer waited for their support,” Mulvaney wrote, adding, “I was the sacrificial lamb these beer drinkers needed in order to push their transphobic rhetoric across the finish line.”
My criticisms of Mulvaney are not because a self-described “twink” decided to transition. It’s the juvenile vision of womanhood presented through some pink Barbie lens.
The drama geek’s metamorphosis is performative in “Paper Doll,” complete with fantasies about the perfect actress for a big-screen adaptation (Dakota Fanning) and reductive props that include Capri cigarettes, tampons, makeup and vintage clothing.
At every turn, Mulvaney comes off as a gay man living a campy drag fantasy that is utterly untethered from the reality of being female. Take, for instance, the “best friend baths” the author enjoys with gal pal Lily: “We started a whirlpool, spinning our bodies around the jacuzzi tub like slick otters, naked but in the least sexual way possible.”
Girls, you know, right?! (No.)
Mulvaney is, indeed, picture perfect — as a portrait of the fallacy of woke culture: that a generation was told that the world will morph to them. They will be affirmed and hugged at every turn, despite the obvious truth.
But the reality remains. Regardless of how you decide to show up and present yourself, it’s up to you to fit into broader society.
But the influencer is pretty sure it’s as simple as changing hair color.
“My healthy long brunette locks constantly reminded me of the images I would see of myself in conservative media, the Audrey Hepburn persona I had leaned into for most of my transition,” Mulvaney writes of going blonde. “I was the good girl, Jackie O, but I wanted to be the other woman for once. I wanted to be Marilyn.”
Hey, a boy can dream.
