Title & author
Every Drop Is a Man’s Nightmare by Megan Kamalei Kakimoto
Synopsis
In Every Drop Is a Man’s Nightmare, we follow women at varying stages of life through relationships with their families, selves and bodies, careers, homes, and romantic interests. All through, threads of patriarchy—especially in its need for conquest, whether that be bodily or territorial—and the women’s intense desire to escape in their own way bind the women together.
Who should read this book
Fans of Self Portrait With Ghost and Brother, Sister, Mother, Explorer
What we’re thinking about
The patriarchal assumptions put on women’s bodies
Trigger warning(s)
Sexism, abuse, racism, substance abuse, classism, fatphobia
According to informal research conducted by author Jessica V Aragon, only .2% of authors between October 2022 and October 2023 identified as Pacific Islander.* Despite publishers claiming to be committed to “DEI,” little is being done to diminish the gap—and when BIPOC authors are published, it’s often in a tokenized way. In Megan Kamalei Kakimoto’s debut story collection, Every Drop Is a Man’s Nightmare, Kakimoto addresses the existence of native Hawaiian woman. In the women she writes, we see the longing for something more, yet expectation to please others to survive in a white world. We follow women through relationships with their families, selves and bodies, careers, homes, and romantic interests. All through, threads of patriarchy—especially in its need for conquest, whether that be bodily or territorial—and the women’s intense desire to escape in their own way bind the women together.
In each of these stories, women find themselves at odds with external forces—their husband’s wants, society’s expectations, even careers that don’t love them back. In “Ms. Amelia’s Salon for Women in Charge,” Kehau sees how her boyfriend is controlling, not liking it when she goes too long without grooming her body. Her inner self revolts, as she “never minded her pubic hair,” yet she finds herself at Ms. Amelia’s, willing to trade a personality trait for a “free” wax (Kakimoto, 102). In “Hotel Molokai,” a young narrator follows her grandmother to her mother’s hometown, with the plan to touch Kaule o Nānāhoa to ensure she is blessed with children in the (far) future. Despite that “I didn’t want to be a mother…not yet, maybe not ever,” she ends up doing so (149). And in the titular “Every Drop Is a Man’s Nightmare,” Sadie knows “the more she eats, the better she feels” (9). Yet, after experiencing fat-shaming, Sadie pressures herself to keep weight off for her wedding, as “how can anyone expect a bride to know how for enjoy unless she resembles a skeleton of herself?” (21).
But despite these external forces, all of the protagonists, in the end, are able to reclaim their selves. Kehau gives up the trait sincerity, knowing she’ll tell her partner “her perfectionist tendencies will finally be gone…as though sincerity means nothing to her” (114). And when the “Hotel Molokai” protagonist grows up and has children of her own, she thinks “I would never return to Molokai, though I would thank Nānāhoa in every sleep for giving me my child” (150). Even Sadie, weeks after giving birth, “can’t stop smiling” when she “reaches into the bassinet, [and] clutches a miniature wild hog,” despite the “color seeping” from her husband’s “unfamiliar face” (39).
To an extent, the parts of themselves that these women are able to reclaim are within the confines of the space they are given, such as motherhood or wifedom—and some readers may question if that’s even “feminist.” Yet, it wholly is. In a world that tells women—especially women of color, queer women, and trans women—time and time again what and who to be, taking up any space we can as our own is increasingly important. Not all feminism looks the same, as is made clear in Every Drop Is a Man’s Nightmare. And for the author herself to publish a short story collection that is rooted in native oral lessons and warnings, despite it (likely) being put through the limits and tests of white publishing, we can see the reclamation all the same—that this is hers, for her, even in a world that wants and tries to claim otherwise.
*Note: Unfortunately, publishing is not straightforward about the breakdown of authors by race (or other identifiers), leaving us—as Jessica notes—to rely on “informal” studies. Also note that Jessica included a typo in the graphic—Pacific Islanders represent .2%, not .02%.
“No girl could be afforded such a pleasure without the accompanying shame with which to share it.”
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