I remember the first time I cracked open a copy of Thick And Other Essays. It wasn’t a casual read. It felt more like a confrontation. Tressie McMillan Cottom doesn't just write; she dissects. She takes the things we think we understand—like beauty, or higher education, or the way Black women move through the world—and peels back the skin to show the gears grinding underneath. It’s messy. It’s brilliant. And honestly, it’s one of the most vital collections of cultural criticism released in the last decade.
The book dropped in 2019. It wasn't just another essay collection. It was a manifesto. Cottom, a sociologist by trade, brings a specific, sharp-edged rigor to her prose that you just don't see in standard memoir-style essays. She calls it "thick description." It’s a term borrowed from ethnography, basically meaning that no human behavior exists in a vacuum. Everything has a context. Everything has a cost.
The Problem With "Competent" Beauty
One of the most cited chapters in Thick And Other Essays is the one about beauty. But Cottom isn't talking about makeup tutorials or "self-care." She’s talking about survival. She writes about the "capital" of beauty—how some people can trade on it and how Black women, specifically, are often barred from that marketplace.
She tells this story about a job interview where she was overqualified, but she knew she had to look "correct" to even be considered. It’s about the labor of being "presentable." Most people think beauty is about vanity. Cottom proves it’s about power. If you aren't "beautiful" by the standards of the white, heteronormative gaze, you lose access to resources. You lose money. You might even lose your life in a medical setting.
It’s a heavy realization. When she talks about her own experiences, it isn't for sympathy. She’s using her life as a laboratory. She’s showing us how the machine works. It’s why her writing feels so much more urgent than your average op-ed. She isn't just giving an opinion; she’s showing you the receipts.
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The "Thick" Logic of Higher Education
If you’ve followed Cottom’s career, you know she’s an expert on for-profit colleges. Her previous book, Lower Ed, is a masterclass in how the education system can become a trap. In Thick And Other Essays, she brings that same skeptical eye to the way we talk about "merit."
We love the idea of a meritocracy. We want to believe that if you work hard and get the degree, you win. But Cottom points out the holes in that boat. She looks at how Black women are often pushed into "credentialism"—the need to get more and more degrees just to get the same entry-level respect as someone else. It's exhausting just reading about it, because you realize how much energy is being sucked out of brilliant people just to prove they belong in the room.
Why "The Body" Is a Political Site
A lot of the essays circle back to the physical body. Cottom writes about the loss of her daughter in a way that is so raw it’s hard to stay in the room with the text. She talks about the medical system’s failure to hear Black women’s pain. It’s not just a "sad story." It’s a systemic critique of how medicine views Black bodies as tougher, less sensitive, or less worthy of intervention.
The "thick" in the title refers to many things. It’s the thickness of the prose. The thickness of the body. The thickness of the layers of history we have to wade through to get to the truth.
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Digital Sociology and the Public Intellectual
Cottom is a MacArthur "Genius" Grant winner for a reason. She’s one of the few people who can navigate the ivory tower of academia and the chaotic trenches of Twitter (or X, whatever we're calling it this week) with equal ease. She understands how digital spaces change the way we communicate.
In the essays, she explores what it means to be a "public intellectual" when the public is constantly yelling back at you. It’s a weird spot to be in. You have to be authoritative but accessible. You have to be sharp but not performative. She manages to walk that line by being intensely, almost uncomfortably, honest.
Honestly, the way she handles the "Girl, Call Me" essay—which dives into the complexities of Black womanhood and the performance of friendship and solidarity—is a masterclass in nuance. She doesn’t give you easy answers. She doesn’t tell you how to feel. She just shows you the friction.
Why We Still Need This Book Today
You might think an essay collection from a few years ago would feel dated. It doesn't. If anything, Thick And Other Essays feels more relevant now as we navigate a world that is increasingly polarized and suspicious of expertise. Cottom reminds us that expertise isn't just about having a PhD; it's about the lived experience of navigating systems that weren't built for you.
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She challenges the reader. She doesn’t want you to just nod along. She wants you to see the "thick" reality of why things are the way they are.
It’s not a comfortable book. But the best books rarely are. It’s a tool for seeing. Once you’ve read it, you can’t really look at a news cycle or a viral trend the same way again. You start looking for the "thick description" in everything.
Actionable Insights for Reading Cultural Criticism
If you’re looking to dive into this kind of work, don’t just rush through it. This isn't a beach read. Here is how to actually engage with Thick And Other Essays and similar works of heavy-hitting cultural critique:
- Read with a pen. Seriously. You’re going to want to underline things. You’re going to want to argue with her in the margins. That’s the point. It’s a conversation.
- Look up the references. Cottom mentions a lot of scholars and historical events. If you don't know who she's talking about, take five minutes to Google it. It adds so much more depth to the argument when you see the lineage of the ideas.
- Sit with the discomfort. When she writes something that makes you feel defensive or annoyed, ask yourself why. Usually, that’s where the real learning happens.
- Apply the "Thick" lens to your own life. Next time you see a social trend—whether it's a new fashion "aesthetic" or a political debate—try to look past the surface. What are the economic forces? What are the historical precedents?
- Listen to her voice. If the prose feels dense, find an interview with her on YouTube or a podcast (like her appearances on The Ezra Klein Show). Hearing her speak helps clarify the rhythm of her writing.
The real value of Thick And Other Essays isn't just in the facts it presents, but in the way it teaches you to think. It’s about developing a skepticism that isn't cynical, but analytical. It’s about demanding more from our culture and from ourselves.
Go find a copy. Read the essay "I’m Not the One" first if you want a jolt to the system. Then go back to the beginning. Your brain will thank you, even if it’s a bit tired by the end.