When I first heard of Erica Kennedy’s latest novel, Feminista, from The Black Snob, late last month, my heart skipped a beat at the sight of the title. After all, I’ve wondered for a while if society would ever quit pigeonholing a feminist with a hankering for all things fashion like me into a boring square peg. Add an unapologetically confident successful heroine of what Publisher’s Weekly lovingly referred to as ‘bitch lit’ named Sydney Zamora and I was game.

Yet, a funny thing happened while reading this book. The so-called bravado that it promised to provide was as paper-thin as the Sydney’s self-possession. For while I truly expected Feminista to be that chick lit game-changer, it predictably fell back on familiar stereotypes and ultimately reduced this ‘strong bitch’ to a whiny one. Thus, while I’m intrigued by the idea of chick lit’s ornery stepsister, Feminista proves that it has a long way to go before it truly comes into fruition.