This book often reminds you of what exactly it set out to do - bury the idea that white women somehow weren't privy to the worst of slavery, that they somehow didn't know better (a frankly ridiculous notion in itself).

Not only were they willing and conscious participants in the slave economy, it was empowering to them. 

It was how they became financially independent, they held their own corners of the market, and every move they made that's painted as benevolent or merciful towards their slaves (i.e. not beating them) was nothing more than calculated, long term thinking on how they can best use and profit from the bodies and labor of the enslaved people.

The straightforward, to-the-point, almost clinical narration just adds to the absurdity of the argument that white southern women weren't as bad as their male counterparts, and the slimy aftertaste of putting together how reminiscent of girlboss white feminism it all sounds. Absolutely sickening.