"Paper Doll: A Critical Look at Identity, Fame, and the Performance of Womanhood"
A Performative Transition: Thejem citadel of Womanhood
Dylan Mulvaney’s memoir, "Paper Doll: Notes from a Late Bloomer," offers a narrative that is as much about identity as it is about performance. The book chronicles Mulvaney’s transition from a gay man to a trans woman, presented with a flair for the dramatic. This is not a story of quiet introspection; instead, it is a loud, colorful performance, replete with makeup, tampons, and vintage clothing, all carefully curated to fit a particular vision of womanhood. The problem is that this vision feels more like a caricature than a genuine exploration of what it means to be a woman.
Mulvaney’s journey is presented as a series of milestones, each one more Instagrammable than the last. The author’s obsession with appearance and validation is evident throughout the book. But beneath all the glitter and glam, there is little depth. The memoir reads like a series of superficial vignettes, more concerned with how Mulvaney looks and feels in the moment than with any real exploration of identity, struggle, or growth. It’s a narrow, narcissistic view of transition, one that reduces womanhood to a series of aesthetics and mannerisms.
The Shallow Waters of Celebrity Culture and Fame
If there’s one thing Dylan Mulvaney loves, it’s the spotlight. The memoir is filled with name-dropping and anecdotes about famous friends, from Josh Groban to Jonathan Van Ness. These interactions serve less to illuminate Mulvaney’s inner world and more to bolster his credentials as a rising star. The book is less a memoir than a PR campaign, designed to cement Mulvaney’s status as a celebrated figure in the LGBTQ+ community.
At times, "Paper Doll" feels less like a personal story and more like a carefully curated brand. Every moment is performative, from the tears on "Day one of being a girl" to the friendship baths with girlfriend Lily. These scenes are relayed with a level of coy, knowing humor that feels more suited to a TikTok video than a memoir. The result is a book that feels more like a social media feed than a genuine exploration of identity.
The Bud Light Controversy and Its Aftermath
One of the most significant moments in "Paper Doll" is Mulvaney’s partnership with Bud Light, which became a flashpoint in America’s culture wars. The collaboration, which included a now-infamous video featuring Mulvaney cosplaying as Audrey Hepburn, was met with swift and fierce backlash. The backlash was so severe that it led to a national boycott of Bud Light, resulting in a reported $1.4 billion loss for the company and the layoffs of hundreds of employees.
Mulvaney’s account of the controversy is predictably self-serving. He frames himself as a victim, claiming that the backlash was driven by transphobia and that he was a "sacrificial lamb" for a broader ideological debate. But the reality is more complicated. The partnership, which Mulvaney admits was "contradictory to my overall aesthetic" and done mostly to "surprise people," was always going to be polarizing. It’s disingenuous to present himself as an innocent bystander when the very point of the campaign was to court controversy and attention.
A Missed Opportunity for Authentic Connection
Beneath all the glamour and the drama, there’s a deeper issue with "Paper Doll." The book is less a memoir than a series of poses, each one more calculated than the last. It’s a book about performance, not identity. And while there’s certainly an audience for that kind of thing, it’s a missed opportunity. Mulvaney’s transition could have been the occasion for a nuanced exploration of identity, but instead, it’s presented as a series of superficial markers—dresses, makeup, tampons—all designed to prove a point rather than explore a truth.
The book’s relentless focus on appearance and validation is exhausting. It’s a vision of womanhood that feels more like a drag show than real life. It’s an experience that’s both over-the-top and underwhelming, a whirlwind of pink and gingham and celebrity endorsements, but with little substance beneath the surface.
The Realities of Identity Beyond the Spotlight
At the heart of the criticism of "Paper Doll" is a deeper issue. The book presents a vision of identity that’s deeply individualistic, a world in which the only thing that matters is how Mulvaney feels and how he presents himself. It’s a vision of identity as something that can be conjured into being through sheer force of will, and one that’s deeply disconnected from the broader social and cultural context in which it exists.
But the reality is more complicated. Identity is not something that can be conjured into being through appearances or performances. It’s rooted in shared experiences, cultural norms, and social structures. It’s shaped by history, power, and privilege. Mulvaney’s vision of identity is both ahistorical and apolitical, a view of the world in which the only thing that matters is how he feels in the moment.
Conclusion: The Disconnect Between Perception and Reality
In the end, "Paper Doll" is a book about perception, not reality. It’s a book about how Mulvaney wants to be seen, both by himself and by others. It’s a book about the performance of identity, not the lived experience of it. It’s a book about wanting to be a woman, but having no real understanding of what that means.
The disconnect between perception and reality is at the heart of the problem. Mulvaney’s vision of womanhood is a shallow one, rooted in aesthetics and stereotypes rather than in any real understanding of women’s experiences. It’s a vision of womanhood that’s both reductive and narcissistic, one that reduces women to their appearances and mannerisms, rather than seeing them as fully realized human beings.
In the end, "Paper Doll" is less a memoir than a manifesto. It’s a declaration of self, a statement of intent, but it’s one that’s deeply disconnected from the world around it. It’s a book that’s all about Dylan Mulvaney, but it tells us very little about the rest of us.
