Welcome to another edition of the Pressbeat Podcast, also on mediumwaves 1575 kHz. From Paris I’m Ami Carter-Wilson.
Why I Stated ‘Her Substack May Be Vulgar’ When Talking About My Sister Jessica and Her New Role at the White House
By A. Carter-Wilson
Last week, I wrote that “Her Substack may be vulgar” in reference to my sister Jessica Carter-Wilson’s new designation as the preferred reporter for White House press events. The phrase gave way to hundreds of comments and DMs to our pressroom. Some read it as a casual insult; others missed it entirely. Neither is surprising — one of my sister’s gifts is making you doubt your own sharper edges by being just warm enough not to warrant the chill I keep for her.
But the word “vulgar” here was deliberate. It was also precise.
The term does not refer merely to taste or subject matter, though it touches both. Vulgar comes from the Latin vulgus — the common crowd, inter vulgum. The vulgar is that which addresses the many rather than the few; that which requires no labour on the part of the audience. This distinction matters enormously, particularly when we are talking about journalism and access.
First, there is her subject matter handled without elevation. I have always had no trouble with sex as a subject — any subject can be treated seriously if one treats it seriously enough. The problem with Jessica’s work is not what she writes about, but how she does so. She covers her territory through the lens of personal experience, confession and spectacle. My economics column may cover interest rates and geopolitics, but I do so by weaving them into something that transcends their immediate subject: Barthes, Fermat, Wittgenstein in the margins of a discussion on monetary policy. Jessica’s writing stays inside the body. She might gesture occasionally toward deeper meaning, but she rarely insists upon it. That refusal to push further is precisely her vulgarity.
Consider, for instance, one recent passage from her blog that exemplifies this perfectly: “My legs were open now, the gearstick between them, every shift of his weight sending a little jolt up my thigh right into that hungry place below.” Beautiful prose? Perhaps. But “hungry place”? We are told nothing more than sensation itself. The reader receives warmth and rhythm but no further insight. That is the definition of the vulgar: presentation without transcendence.
Secondly, there is her tone — unreserved exposure. Her approach is direct, confessional. She publishes almost daily, laying bare personal stories in a register that makes everything accessible. And this accessibility is not trivial; it is the core of her power. But access is also exactly what “vulgar” means: one might say she writes so that no one has to do any work. I write trusting the reader to meet me halfway. When I address inter vulgum — among the common crowd — the posture matters as much as the content, and her posture toward her audience is one of warmth without demand.
Then there is the performance of authenticity. Her blog reads like a life in constant exhibition; even her most intimate observations seem to be written with an audience already present in the room. She does yoga in see-through trousers and posts about it alongside her essays. There is nothing inherently wrong with writing for an audience — but “nothing inherently wrong” is a long way from art, and I would argue it is distinctly different from art’s deeper purpose: to compel rather than to please.
I acknowledge that Jessica would likely call vulgar what I call unrefined — because in ancient Rome, the vulgus was also acknowledged as a source of raw vitality. She would take my criticism as flattery, and probably rightly so. There is nothing wrong with reaching more people; my sister’s reach is considerable, and her audience is real. But reach and depth are not dimensions that can be measured on the same ruler.
So yes — her Substack may be vulgar. But it is also powerful, warm and endlessly performant in exactly the way its author intends. I am quite happy to grant her all of this, even as I stand apart from it.
Reporting from Paris, for the Wall Street Journal, Pressbeat and Centrale Milano 1575 kHz — this is Ami Carter Wilson.