Untamed: A Journey Through the Struggle Bus
I was drawn to Untamed by Glennon Doyle not just for its bold cover or evocative title, but for the promise of transformation—the kind that often comes from tumultuous life changes. An ex-Christian mommy blogger reimagining her identity as an unapologetic lesbian? Color me intrigued! However, as I turned the pages, I quickly found myself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts that challenged my expectations.
Doyle weaves a narrative that dives deep into themes of self-discovery, motherhood, and societal expectations. From the onset, you can sense her passion and fire; she holds nothing back in expressing her truths. The first section had me nodding along as she laid bare her struggles. Who doesn’t love a relatable mom story? Yet, as the narrative unfolded, I was hit with a wave of self-righteousness that left me feeling estranged, as if I were peering through a tinted glass at a celebration I wasn’t invited to.
The honesty of her journey is compelling, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling of elitism she exudes. Doyle often presents her life as a series of realizations that feel more like a performance than authentic storytelling. Her statements on motherhood—juggling three kids while advocating for a range of issues from feminism to toxic masculinity—often come across as contradictory. For example, she reflects on her initial parenting fervor before confessing that by her third child, handing an iPad seemed an acceptable substitute for nurturing. It just left me wondering: How did we go from enthusiastic parenting to technological babysitting in a few mere pages?
Doyle’s writing style oscillates between lyrical and didactic. At times, her prose is beautifully evocative, flowing like water, capturing the trials of modern motherhood and the struggle of self-acceptance. Yet, at other points, it reads like a lecture delivered from a soapbox—pounding home her “wokeness” in a way that feels exclusionary rather than inclusive. I truly want to embrace her message, but the incessant lecturing on how she alone has mastered the art of being “awake” left me feeling resistant.
One specific moment stood out, where she expresses her aversion to phone calls, likening an incoming call to an “aggressive action.” It’s this vulnerability mixed with comedic snippets that make her relatable, yet it’s also emblematic of someone who feels ever so slightly disconnected from the average reader’s reality. The disconnect became palpable when she declared, "I do what I want," especially when it felt more like a privilege than a statement of personal empowerment.
Ultimately, Untamed is not just a memoir; it’s a declaration of independence—a rallying cry for women everywhere to reject societal norms and “find your roar.” However, I worry that its elitist undertones may alienate many readers. Doyle’s thoughts are undoubtedly intriguing, but they are often packaged in a manner that suggests she possesses unique insight reserved for those who can afford to feel liberated.
In conclusion, Untamed might resonate with those seeking inspiration in their personal journeys or those drawn to stories of self-liberation. That said, if you’re looking for a candid exploration devoid of lofty ideals, you might find yourself frustrated, much like I did. This book left me more puzzled than enlightened, and while I admired the intention behind it, I couldn’t help but feel like a mere spectator caught between the pages of someone else’s gilded struggle. In reading, I found my own reflections stirred—powerful, raw, and thought-provoking. Perhaps that’s the real gift of Doyle’s work. As for me, I’ll seek out narratives that invite me in rather than keep me at arm’s length.