Documentary review: Call Her Alex

Watching Call Her Alex felt like peering into the curated yet undeniably raw life of someone I’ve followed from afar. I remember first stumbling upon Call Her Daddy in its early days, when friends insisted, “You have to listen — she says what we’re all thinking.” I tried.

At the time, I found the hypersexual content jarring. It wasn’t how I talked with my friends about intimacy, and part of me felt alienated by its unapologetic tone. Still, I couldn’t deny that Alex Cooper was doing something bold.

Seeing her documentary now, I still don’t fully align with her brand of hypersexual confidence. It’s not my language, nor how I choose to express power. But Call Her Alex revealed another side of her — a woman who used her voice, not just for explicit humour, to take back her narrative after years of silence.

The most striking part of the documentary is when Cooper recounts her time as a Division I soccer player at Boston University, revealing allegations of sexual harassment against her coach. She describes being touched without consent, questioned about her body and sex life, and feeling that her scholarship depended on tolerating it. 

As she cries while sharing these memories, the camera doesn’t cut away. I felt a sharp pang in my chest. Her fear, her rage, her grief — they’re emotions so many women carry, often unspoken.

I absolutely hated that Cooper had to give up her soccer career because of her coach’s actions and the university’s refusal to fire her. No one should ever have to choose between their future and their safety, especially from a coach — someone entrusted to guide and protect you. 

The fact that this choice was forced upon her is infuriating. It makes me think about how many women, in sport and beyond, have been pushed out of dreams they worked for simply because powerful institutions chose complicity over accountability.

Watching this, I thought about the #MeToo movement. We often associate #MeToo with Hollywood exposés and powerful men finally facing consequences. But it was always more than that. It was about the everyday abuses women endure in silence — in locker rooms, offices, universities, and even among friends — because speaking up risks everything. 

For Alex, that risk was her future. For many, it’s their job, community, or sense of belonging. Her allegations remind us that #MeToo isn’t over — it simply peeled back a layer, revealing the rot beneath institutions that protects abusers over victims.

The documentary itself is clearly a polished product — no series produced by your own company is ever fully unvarnished. Critics call it self-congratulatory, and at times it is. But it also shows the reality of a woman reclaiming her story. I don’t resonate with her entire brand, but I can’t help but admire how she’s turned her greatest vulnerabilities into power.

What struck me was the small, quiet moment before her live show. She sits backstage, eyes closed, breathing through anxiety. In that instant, she isn’t the brazen podcast mogul or the million-dollar brand. She’s just a woman, terrified of not being enough, clinging to the hope that her voice matters. I saw myself in that moment — not in her content, but in her fight to speak and keep speaking.

Call Her Alex made me reflect on how society treats women’s voices. We dismiss them as too sexual, too emotional, too loud, too shallow. The truth is power looks different for everyone. For Cooper, it’s raw sex talk. For me, it’s writing honestly. For another woman, it’s research, design, teaching, or raising her family with intention. The core remains — taking what others want you to hide and building a life around it anyway.

Even if I don’t agree with everything she says, I still believe Cooper is an inspiration in her own right. Not because she’s perfect or unproblematic, but because she embodies the messy, imperfect journey of reclaiming power after it’s been stripped away.

In a world where too many women are told to stay small, Call Her Alex is a reminder that there is still courage in simply choosing to be seen — and that no one should ever have to sacrifice their dreams just to feel safe.