Has Feminism Gone Too Far After #MeToo?

In the aftermath of #MeToo, women seem unable to get enough of true crime and tales of grim death. Anna-Karin Selberg foresees a bloodthirsty future.

CULTURAL DEBATE. Has women's liberation gone too far after the bloodthirsty #MeToo? This question arises from both Lykke Eder Ekman's longing for a true cultural man and Johan Croneman's insight into women's macabre interest in crime.

Croneman notes that Swedes' fixation on crime novels and true crime has only increased—and women are the most avid consumers. Every news channel worth its name now has its own crime podcast—P3 Krim, Aftonbladet Krim, Expressens Krimrummet, to name a few of the more successful ones—that women flock to.

But why? To understand this, one can turn to sociologist Luc Boltanski. He analyzes the crime genre's form in a way that can bring us closer to understanding why women are particularly drawn to blood. According to him, the typical crime novel differs from the noir genre. In the former, the crime is presented as an isolated event, set in a specific part of society (like the suburbs or the home) and often involving typical individuals (the gang member, the perverse madman, the nouveau riche, and so on). During the story, it is resolved—and by the end, the reader is lulled into a false fantasy that the good society has been restored.

Another answer is that feminism has truly gone off the rails.

Since this is the form most crime novels and even true crime take, one might wonder if women have a greater need for soothing false narratives—in a time of gang violence, economic crime, and increasing corruption? That could certainly be the case, but another answer is that feminism has truly gone off the rails. The genie is out of the bottle, and women are now inspired by criminals and crave blood.

If I am right, the noir genre will see a resurgence, with female protagonists in the lead roles. In the noir genre, the crime is not isolated to a specific part of society or a particular type of person. Corruption extends into all individuals and is, in that sense, more egalitarian. It exists in all classes, reaches into government agencies, and finally into the justice system itself. In the end, the criminal gets away—but it's not uncommon for them to get caught anyway. It might involve a crime they didn't even commit or getting trapped in a snare set by someone they thought was a friend.

An example of contemporary noir is Denise Rudberg's new 1970s series, where crime thrives in the police station, and the female officer Agneta is hardly a model citizen. (Mentioning it is itself corrupt since I was the editor for "Dancing Queen," the first part of the series).

However, she ends up being the most deceived, which only reinforces the sense of widespread unscrupulousness.

Another is the Danish true crime, or should we say true corruption series, "The Black Swan," shown on SVT with two fresh episodes available. There, the criminal lawyer Amira Smajic deceives the naive journalists who thought they could use her—and simultaneously exposes rot in the Danish justice system. However, she ends up being the most deceived, which only reinforces the sense of widespread unscrupulousness. Not least among the self-righteous male public service reporters, who don't even seem to understand their own double standards when they are horrified to discover that the street-smart Smajic has been exploiting them all along.

To Lykke Eder Ekman, who declared in SvD that she likes being courted by beer-offering cultural men, post #MeToo, I have only one thing to say: Go ahead if you're prepared to be deceived yourself—but surely there must be more to gain from him along the way than just a little validation and a large beer?

Anna-Karin Selberg is an author, PhD in philosophy, and contributor to Expressen's culture page.