I am a skeptical person. I am aware of this. I have little patience for “alternative” sources of healing. I bristle at every photo of a toddler wearing a “teething necklace” and I zone out the second you offer up prayer as a suggested coping mechanism. I also understand that this is my opinion, that whatever works for you works for you as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.
Gwyneth Paltrow and Goop have built an entire empire on walking that line and then pulling up their sensible yet sexy pencil skirts and pissing all over it, and that piss is BRIGHT highlighter yellow from all the vitamins.
Here’s the thing about Gwyneth Paltrow and GOOP: they think eating grilled cheese will give you an earache. Here’s the other thing about Gwyneth Paltrow and GOOP: they think a pretty rock will cure you of sexual trauma.
In a recent article listing the “8 Essential Crystals,” what should be a hilarious hodgepodge of words that don’t belong together takes a turn for the terrifying and tragic very quickly.
“Carnelian, second (sacral) chakra stone, provides emotional support for all female reproductive issues: It eases period cramps, tempers PMS, regulates menstrual cycles, treats infertility, and addresses shame around female body parts and sexual trauma. It stimulates, balances, and heals the reproductive system, helping girls at menarche and women of all ages to value and respect their life-making ability.”
Is there a German word for using cultural appropriation to actively ruin lives? Because GOOP lives in that word so often she’s added an outdoor pizza oven in its backyard.
I generally feel guilty getting annoyed by innocuous things that seem to make people happy, like essential oils or crystals, or any other harmless thing, even if they only provide a placebo effect. The line is crossed the second you sell anything other than vague positive feelings. And there might be no more sickening promise than the removal of sexual trauma.
Look, if you want to bilk rich white women out of their hard-earned dollars for rocks under the guise of these rocks being so pretty that they’ll make them feel more in touch with their inner goddesses, great. Do you. But as soon as you start telling me that these rocks are a viable alternative for the unspeakable trauma of rape, or that essential oil can cure major depression, or that turmeric prevents cancer, or any other relentless nonsense and bullshit you insist upon, it is no longer harmlessly naive; it’s dangerous. It’s bad enough when every blogger nobody on Pinterest is doing it, but for Gwyneth Paltrow, a millionaire with limitless access to every piece of medical care we could ever possibly imagine, to tell women “this is an option for you” is despicable. Fuck this, fuck that, fuck these rocks, fuck all of it. Sell them on therapy. Sell them on medication. Sell them on talking to a friend, a stranger, something useful and tangible that is not a fucking rock. How dare you.
This is 2017. This is a nation under Donald Trump, where science is in a constant state of peril. Now is not the time for this cutesy crystal bullshit. Stop.