A heartfelt sass and one designed to embolden communities rather than tear them down.

Just who does Margaret Cho think she is? This is the question that opens Cho's new book, “I Have Chosen to Stay and Fight,” her follow up to her acclaimed memoir “I’m the One That I Want.”

She wrote, “What emboldens me to give my opinion of what is going on? I certainly don't fit in with any of the great political thinkers of the day … I am not a man, nor am I white?”

The answer to that question is a lot, quite a lot, and be you gay, feminist, Asian, non-Asian, liberal or merely human, the leftest field of popular culture is deeply indebted to the preaching and teachings of Margaret Cho.

As an Asian American, a feminist and a bisexual, she is once, twice, three times the minority and it is this juxtaposition of competing cultural tides that makes Cho such a unique and compelling cultural commentator.

Unfortunately, this varied background at times seems to prevent her from delivering a consistent and incisive point of view. Writing about the Bill O'Reilly sex scandal, Cho defends his accuser's $60 million lawsuit, writing that “many are shocked at the dollar amount. They say that because the figure is so high, the case is all about extortion. I don't think that $60 million is nearly enough, because a woman's sense of safety, sexual and otherwise, is far more valuable than that, and is something that can never be replaced or paid back.”

Cho has strong words for patriarchs like O'Reilly yet she is quick to insist on Kobe Bryant's innocence in his own sexual allegations, predicting that he will never again regain his fame and credibility as O'Reilly has.

When speaking of Asian American conservative and author of Michelle Malkin, Cho said “Malkin is living proof that bigotry has gone multiracial” yet she praises her for being “… a revelation and a revolution … an intelligent and interesting young woman, albeit a misguided one, and I feel protective toward her.”

Her incongruities are telling. In Cho’s attempts to encompass so many different points of view, her writings at time become scattered, inconsistent and grossly biased toward anyone who isn't male or white.

Cho borrows prodigiously from gangsta rap vernacular (the cover photo, featuring her in full Patty Hearst regalia, would suggest that Cho has never met a rebel posturing that she didn't like). Yet, if President Bush ever said half the things about gay people that 50 Cent or Eminem have, Cho would more than likely suffer an aneurysm from outrage.

Worse still, Cho's particular brand of humor, heavily reliant on delivery and bawdy, rubber-faced theatrics, doesn't translate well to the printed page. It is a curious study in medium that her written delivery pales in comparison to her spoken delivery.

But Cho's work remains relevant and eagerly received simply because it is so heartfelt and personal. Her writings can be dissected, analyzed and discredited in a media-saturated culture where one pundit blends with another and one ideologue can barely be deciphered from the next.

Cho professes that “I'm not that smart. I got no attention span, never got an education … (but) like Elvis Costello, my aim is true.”

It is just this sense of honesty that makes her such a revelation. Most forms of bitchery degenerate into transparent attempts at self-advancement, yet hers is a heartfelt sass and one designed to embolden communities rather than tear them down.

She is unafraid to show her warts and assert herself to be anything other than what she is: an impassioned hypocrite. This is an apt classification for so many, yet one that so few cop to.

Cho's onstage and literary personas possess a candid sincerity alien to most who profess to speak passionately about controversial issues. In an abysmal Oprah Book Club landscape dotted with a million little exaggerations Cho emerges as an honest voice among a sea of charlatans.

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