Graphic by Natasha Nagarajan '26.
By Amelia Potter ’26
Staff Writer
Content warning: This article discusses eating disorders and parental abuse, including emotional and sexual abuse.
“My life purpose has always been to make Mom happy, to be who she wants me to be. So without Mom, who am I supposed to be now?” writes Jennette McCurdy in her memoir “I’m Glad My Mom Died.” Best known for her performance as Sam Puckett in the children’s television series “iCarly,” McCurdy published her controversially-titled memoir on Aug. 9, 2022. Above all, “I’m Glad My Mom Died” is a meditation on an unhealthy parent-child dynamic. The writing is blunt, and McCurdy’s humor shines through the pages as she reckons with an array of issues from the absurdity of child stardom to an intense eating disorder. McCurdy emphasizes the importance of autonomy and identity, without simplifying or villainizing her mother in the process. Following McCurdy from early childhood to young adulthood, the book is unflinchingly vulnerable and compelling from start to finish.
McCurdy masterfully utilizes dark humor throughout the book as she recounts the trials and tribulations of being a child actress. Despite being the youngest of her siblings, McCurdy quickly became the main breadwinner for her “white trash” family through her acting success. McCurdy depicts the complex and often demoralizing industry of child acting. She describes many of her earliest roles as being tragic or downright uncomfortable to portray at such a young age. She recalls being forced to pretend to slowly suffocate to death in a gas chamber and being made to make homophobic jokes. She also hilariously recounts her horrible audition for the role of an 11-year-old homeless girl while suffering from a bad case of the flu. She writes that her mother forced cough drops and gatorade down her throat, and, after learning that McCurdy had booked the role, screamed in delight: “My baby’s homeless! My baby’s got edge! My baby’s homeless!”
McCurdy reveals that she never wanted to act. It made her feel insecure, “fake” and “uncomfortable.” She poignantly parallels her acting career with the curated performance she was forced to carry out to keep her mother placated. The key narrative of the memoir is McCurdy’s volatile relationship with her mom and the ways in which she could not recognize her own abuse because it was all she knew. It was her mother’s decision to push McCurdy into acting at a very young age, and her mother who influenced McCurdy to develop the eating disorder which would hinder her life for the next decade. She was only 11 when her mother first suggested calorie restriction. Despite the many years of manipulation and trauma she writes about, McCurdy rejects any black and white portrayal of her mother. Instead she paints a picture of the complicated bond they shared with great sophistication.
Both within her acting career and in her relationship with her mother, McCurdy lacked privacy and autonomy. In her professional life, producers directed her outfits, her words and her behavior down to minute facial gestures. At home, her mother subjected McCurdy to bodily exams and verbal criticism and bathed her into her late teens. Most damaging of all was the effect of these influences on McCurdy’s body image, which triggered her battle with anorexia and bulimia.
The content is at times difficult to read and may be triggering for some. McCurdy does not shy away from showing just how unglamorous her seemingly perfect life was. McCurdy contrasts this former lack of control with the privacy and power she now enjoys when writing her own words. She sums it up by saying, “Writing is the opposite of performing to me. Performing feels inherently fake. Writing feels inherently real.” Writing is a solidly autonomous outlet for McCurdy amid a world at times characterized by chaos and helplessness.
When her mother died of cancer, McCurdy plunged into a deep grief. She writes, “I have no idea how to go about life without doing it in the shadow of my mother, without my every move being dictated by her wants, her needs, her approval.” With therapy, McCurdy begins to grapple with the harm of her upbringing. McCurdy admits to her past tendency to defend her mother’s emotional abuse and physical invasiveness but ultimately rejects the romanticization of her dead mother.
McCurdy tells the readers how she learned to have grace with herself, to not let shame dictate her eating habits and most importantly to not let her mother’s legacy continue to consume her identity. The ending notes are ones of hope: the joy of eating a cookie after years of self-deprivation, refusing involvement in an “iCarly” reboot and, perhaps most significantly of all, deciding to no longer visit her mother’s grave. The title of the memoir, “I’m Glad My Mom Died,” is not simply a shocking grab for attention, but a thoughtful and sincere statement.
McCurdy’s story is constantly surprising, and it provides the reader with a narratively distinct and highly personal insight into the lackluster underbelly of the celebrity experience. Lauren Hough, bestselling author of “Leaving Isn’t the Hardest Thing,” wrote in her cover review that “McCurdy brings readers deep into the milieu so often hidden from outsiders. This is a beautifully crafted coming-of-age story as fearless as its author.”
For further reading, those who liked McCurdy’s “I’m Glad My Mom Died” might also be interested in checking out the recently penned memoir by Tom Felton of “Harry Potter.” On Oct. 18, 2022, Felton published “Beyond the Wand,” which offers a similarly vulnerable retelling of a child actor’s story of the behind-the-scenes of a popular movie franchise.