I’ve written this post partly as a response to the recent behaviour of Rupert Read, the philosopher and Green MP who decided to be a half-hearted feminist for a bit then backed out once he realised that – surprise, surprise – feminists get loads of shit and said shit is, like, dead upsetting and stuff. It’s set me thinking on just how beneficial unacknowledged misogyny is to both men and women, and how so many people like to think they’re against the sexism but don’t link this to what would actually happen to them if they made a stand against the status quo. This is because people don’t really think about sexism very much, not even philosophers, but well, there you go. These are my thoughts on it and I don’t care whether you like them or not

Here are some things which will not happen if you speak out on behalf of women as a class: you will not get loads of people listening to your carefully worded, nuanced thoughts and saying “hmm, interesting, let me think about this some more”; you will not get people who disagree with you saying “sure, I think that’s one angle, but perhaps we could discuss it a little more?”; you will not get hordes of women eager to express their support and gratitude in public; you will not find people making connections between the problems you’ve highlighted and the surface-level examples of sexism they’ve noticed elsewhere.

If you expected any of these things to happen, then really you shouldn’t have spoken out in the first place. This is because such things would only happen if the class-based discrimination you are describing didn’t actually exist. If you have failed to consider this rather obvious point, assuming instead that since we’re all “basically in support of equality” it would therefore be fine for you to broadcast your important and valuable thoughts with impunity, then you still don’t get what “being oppressed as a class” actually means. (more…)

Today The Sun did not include a pair of naked tits on Page 3. There are some who might say that this is a victory for No More Page 3, who’ve campaigned tirelessly against the shitty objectification of women in one small area of the press. And yet there are others who will ask, thoughtfully, “what about all the other pages? They’re pretty crap too”.

Similarly, in 2013 the Bank of England agreed to put Jane Austen on its new ten pound note. There are some who’ll say that Caroline Criado-Perez’s campaigning made an important point about the value of women as culturally and historically significant people. But then again others will say “what about women who don’t have ten pound notes?” (conveniently failing to distinguish between symbolic representation and literal distribution, but w/evs, it sounds good).

Small victories, right? There’s nothing so controversial as a small victory for feminism. They’re good, sort of, but then why did feminists bother doing this and not that? In fact, why didn’t the lazy fuckers do both? And why didn’t they sort out ALL social justice gripes while they were at it?

Now obviously, if the aim of feminism is to liberate all women, this cannot be done without the removal of all forms of oppression. As Billy Bragg’s version of The Internationale puts it, “freedom is merely privilege extended unless enjoyed by one and all”. That makes perfect sense and anyone who disagrees would have to be a total tosser. The trouble is, when it comes to expectations of who will do the actual work involved in achieving the aforementioned freedom, we are not on even ground. It just so happens that there is one group whose very oppression is founded on the belief that they are “naturally” more caring, more compassionate and meant to give their time to others without complaint. This is group is “women” and this is a problem.

Look, Lefty Male Socialism! Today I supported a friend trying to access an abortion, did some volunteering at the women’s refuge, met up with that cousin who’s in the middle of leaving a violent relationship, carefully avoided the man who’s been harassing me at work, launched a new petition, popped in on your elderly mum, fed the kids, did the laundry and even found time to clean the windows!”

*looks up from copy of Revolution* “That’s great, Feminism, but you missed a bit — look, right over there. I’d use a bit more elbow grease if I were you, oh, and make me a sandwich while you’re at it.”

“Um … Perhaps you could help a bit?”

“Sorry, gotta read my Brand, and then spend an hour on Twitter denouncing a couple of your lot. Make it cheese and pickle.”

“But I ….”

“Also, I have some Serious Philosophical Misgivings about the abortion thing. Next time you’re asked to do something like that, vacuum the living room instead.”

Because of course, feminism is about women, and what are women for if not to be cleaning up after everyone else all the fucking time? Indeed, of all social justice movements, feminism has become the only one that’s expected to sort out all the others while also sticking a broom up its arse and sweeping the floor as it goes along.

Since a woman’s work is never done, the easiest option is to never even start. Don’t launch campaigns; don’t throw your lot in with anything in particular; never, ever fight for anything unless it is The Most Important Thing. The more you do, the more people will point out what you haven’t done and the more they’ll demand of you in future. You will not be allowed to complain because that would be privileged and entitled. You are expected to have a never-ending supply of time, patience, compassion, energy and selflessness. You are, basically, Mummy to a load of whining, ungrateful teenagers who want to put the world to rights but don’t understand why you can’t do it for them, just after you’ve washed their pants and lent them a tenner for going into town.

So it’s no good dealing with Page 3 when we haven’t dealt with all the other pages, you say? Well, it’s a good job you’re onto that one. What’s that? The other pages aren’t important enough to campaign over? Well, good to know you’re doing something more important. What’s that? You’re not because sniping at women is a full-time occupation? Why not take a break and spend some time actually supporting others rather than making more and more demands. Feminists might be women but they’re not literally your mum.

Oh, and make your own bloody sandwich.

What is a woman, anyway? This question has been asked time and again, and still we don’t have a definitive answer. Why would that be? I have a theory: because under a system – patriarchy – which is invested in dehumanising females, the obvious response – “a female human” – would give the game away. Conscious of their own humanity, women might get uppity and stop letting men objectify their bodies, exploit their labour and generally piss about being violent. This would never do. Hence “woman”, unlike “man”, has to be really, really hard to define (so hard that you need a super-clever brain – the kind of brain that shares a body with a penis – to get it just right).

Mount Holyoke’s cancellation of its yearly production of The Vagina Monologues has given rise to a great deal of pseudo-philosophical babble regarding “reductive” and “exclusive” definitions of womanhood. According to a student spokesperson:

At its core, the show offers an extremely narrow perspective on what it means to be a woman. Gender is a wide and varied experience, one that cannot simply be reduced to biological or anatomical distinctions, and many of us who have participated in the show have grown increasingly uncomfortable presenting material that is inherently reductionist and exclusive.

Oh dear! According to Jezebel this is all part of an “ugly battle” regarding “the expansion of the definition of ‘woman’ on college campuses”. Clearly, women are not walking vaginas (they are, as previously stated, human beings). But it seems to me that all the current “let’s make womanhood more inclusive” statements are rather missing the point. (more…)

Today I found out that a special “light touch stapler” is being marketed as “easy for ladies to use”. I for one am relieved to hear this. I am sick and tired of asking male colleagues to staple together my documents for me (right after I’ve made them forge my signature due to the fact that my office refuses to stock pens that are suitable for my delicate lady hands).

Of course, even with light touch staplers, the world is still a rough, tough place for a weak, fragile woman. Office stationery is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to things that are too hard to handle. Take doors, for instance. We can’t open doors to save our lives. What’s more, the evils of feminism have left men unsure whether to help us with this or not, leaving us standing helplessly outside rooms until we’ve forgotten why we wanted to enter them in the first place. Then there’s driving (despite all evidence to the contrary, we’re crap at it) and holding positions of authority (hormones – which only women have, apparently – always get in the way). And as for politics – until they make a cutesy, mini Houses of Parliament, ideally one that looks more like the Happlyland Fairlyand Bluebell Boot, we’re all just going to feel alienated. It’s not that male politicians remain braying, misogynistic boors who talk over women; it’s the fact that the seat of government is not pink (and the doors are too heavy, and the stationery just too male).

Thankfully there are some things women are physically and emotionally strong enough to take on, which is just as well since otherwise we’d be really bloody useless. Take caring work, for instance. Delicate ladies who cannot lift a pen unless it is “designed to fit comfortably in a woman’s hand” turn out to be just fine at wiping shit-covered toddler arses and lifting sick, elderly relatives twice their weight. It’s funny, isn’t it? Women – those fragrant little flowers – end up doing the vast majority of unpaid caring work: fetching and carrying, cleaning up blood and vomit, doing all that emotional heavy lifting that men just aren’t equipped to do. We even give birth to the next generation (ideally not by being “too posh to push”; let’s face it, staplers are hard but pushing a human being out of your vagina? Piece of piss).

Of course, a cynic might say that the whole weak woman construct is there to create the illusion that men are caring and providing for women when in fact it’s the other way round; we’re the ones providing the physical and emotional resources that enable men to faff around earning money, kicking footballs, killing each other and whatnot. Obviously that’s a crude way of putting it. I prefer to take a more nuanced line, which is that: yes, we women are clearly crap at staples and pens and power (the important things). It’s just as well we have our magic unpaid carer strengths to compensate. Sorry, men, that we can’t be more useful than that.

Recently several women have been making unreasonable and irrational statements regarding rapist footballer Ched Evans. Things such as  “I find the idea of this convicted rapist returning to professional football […] sickening” and “Ched Evans doesn’t know what rape is”. This has upset a lot of reasonable and rational men who wish for order to be restored. They are not angry at Ched Evans; why should anyone else be?

I wish to reassure these men that #notallwomen are as irrational as it currently appears. This is all just a minor blip. On a daily basis we’re eminently reasonable and compliant. Here are just a few examples of how: (more…)

How sad is sad enough? How thin is thin enough? How lonely is lonely enough? These are apparently important questions if you want to have a voice.

Today I found myself reading the Daily Mail (I was visiting my parents, so please don’t judge me). Two articles caught my eye: one on a woman whose pregnancy had apparently cured her anorexia (“I knew for the sake of our little one I would have to finally put it all behind me”), another by a female journalist who describes herself as unable to stop starving (“however unbalanced my own diet may be, I can’t imagine ever not living as a functioning anorexic”). I haven’t linked to either of these, not least because they include calorie counts, lowest weights and photographs of emaciated states. If I were still struggling with an eating disorder, I’d find such details triggering. Even without a diagnosed ED I feel bad enough. (more…)

Who is your Person of 2014? Nigel Farage? Russell Brand? Or could it be … A woman???

Only kidding, obviously. Having a woman as Person of the Year would be political correctness gone mad. Woman of the Year, yes.  Person? Don’t be silly. People are male.

I could live with The Times naming Farage “Briton of the Year” (NB all humans defined by nationality are male, apart from Swedes, who are sexy blondes). I could live, almost, with the vast majority of positive alternatives to Farage being male. But when George Monbiot named Russell Brand his “hero of 2014” due to his apparently obvious distinctness from the “grand old men of the left”, something in me snapped. (more…)

It’s that time of year again, when all good feminists stop, take stock and ask themselves not “what have feminists achieved over the past year?” but “how many ways have other feminists fucked up?” It’s an important part of feminist praxis, perhaps the most important part: being self-critical in some vague, global sense in order to make yourself (in the specific sense of the word) look good and other women look bad. Obviously I’d hate to miss out on this so I’ve compiled my own list on what “we” (as in “you”) have got wrong in 2014.

The errors are extensive, so extensive only someone of vastly superior moral standing would be able to spot them. Thankfully, I’m one such person. Read it, fellow feminists, and feel duly ashamed.

Feminism in 2014: Where did it all go wrong? (more…)

There are times in your life that you find yourself going back over, again and again. For me the years 1987 to 1996 have a particular resonance. Filed away somewhere is the sense that then, and only then, I was really me. I know it’s not true – I was a dull person, a thin shadow who thought only of food and cold – but I still feel that I came closest to owning myself. Never close enough, of course, but what more can a woman expect?

I’ve just finished reading Elaine Showalter’s The Female Malady. It’s a brilliant book but one that I’ve found incredibly triggering (and “triggering” isn’t a word I often use). It has set off a lot of memories for me, and a lot of resentments that usually bubble under the surface of my fleshy, ageing exterior. It’s a book about women as people – real people with real inner lives – and it surprises me how rare that is. It’s about women trying to make themselves heard and then watching it veer off course, again and again. At the risk of sounding self-obsessed (and this is a self-obsessed post) I can identify with that. It reminds me of my own experiences as an anorexia patient and the scars that haven’t gone away. (more…)

Why do women wear high heels? It’s a question men can ask but feminists can’t. When men ask it they’re being light-hearted and humorous, expressing jovial bafflement at the strange ways of womankind. When feminists ask it they’re being judgemental bullies, dismissing the choice and agency of their Louboutin-loving sisters. So it is that Ally Fogg can get away with writing a piece for the Guardian on why he, Fogg, does not like women wearing heels (I defy any woman to do this without being considered a raging femmephobe – just ask Charlotte Raven).

In said piece, Fogg tells the story of a female friend – a kind of Everywoman in stilettoes – “grumbling about the blisters and bruises being caused by her latest proud purchase”:

I muttered something about taking more care when trying things on in the shop and she looked at me as if I had started speaking fluent Martian. “I’d never not buy a nice pair of shoes just because they didn’t fit!” she exclaimed, then we sat gawping at each other while silent mutual incomprehension calcified the air.

It’s a real Mars and Venus moment, suggesting that when it comes to shoes women are a bit, well, irrational (bless ‘em). Fogg later comments that he is “more attracted to a woman who looks like she can drink me under the table then carry me home, making a sturdy pair of DMs just the ticket”

I live in hope that one day the human race will view high heels with the same horror with which we view foot-binding. Women would be spared innumerable podiatric agonies and men would, I think, just about cope. Until then I shall content myself with the knowledge that I’m right and the rest of the human race is a bit daft.

I can see the good intent here. No one wants women to have ruined feet (unless it’s feminists who are making that point, in which case ruined feet become empowering). But “a bit daft”? Really? Femininity, and the way in which it shapes women’s supposed free choices, is a little more complex than that. (more…)

Update to this post – John Lewis have tweeted this:

So it looks like we may not be at that stage just yet …
***

2014-12-09 22_59_36-Buy John Lewis Girl Vintage Floral Bras, Pack of 2, Multi _ John Lewis

John Lewis are selling Vintage Floral bras at £8 for two. It sounds a total bargain, right? Unfortunately they don’t have any in my size. It’s not the usual hassle, where all the nice ranges stop at a C cup. In this case, the problem is age. I’m 39 and this particular range only goes from ages 2 to 5.

I find the whole thing incredibly depressing, and not just due to the obviously creepy aspect of it (who buys a bra for their toddler? And why?). I’m saddened because it cuts into that brief time when girls have bodies that are just bodies and starts to tell them, ever so subtly, what their true value will be. To be treated like a person with breasts is bad enough; to be treated as such long before you’ve even got there is worse.

Feminists have long identified the onset of puberty (the time when you’d usually get your first bra) as a particular flashpoint for girls. Suddenly you’re no longer “a child” – a mini human – but someone whose humanity will always be in question. This shift from unisex person to female object can happen quickly, and cause a great deal of distress (even for girls for whom the onset of menstruation doesn’t mean forced marriage and/or withdrawal from formal education). Growing breasts means becoming fair game, someone who is believed to have put herself on the market simply by existing. You might have no choice in the matter, but still you will be held accountable for the responses your body provokes. (more…)

Last weekend I engaged in two rather different cultural pursuits: I started reading Julia Serano’s Whipping Girl and I took my children to see the film Paddington. Now, I say they were different (certainly I enjoyed one a lot more than the other), but there were some similarities nonetheless. The challenge to the gendered status quo, for instance. On that point, Paddington and Serano are as one. Yes, I know that might sound weird, but you’ll just have to bear with me.

Whipping Girl is one of those books that you’ve read before you’ve actually read it, at least if you’ve spent any time on feminist twitter. For me it was a bit like Harry Potter: I kept hearing the same things about it until I started to feel sure people were misrepresenting – there had to be more to it than bloody Hogwarts – but no. It is what it is. Serano genuinely claims that “while it is generally considered to be offensive or prejudiced to openly discriminate against someone for being female, discriminating against someone’s femininity is still considered fair game”.* She also talks about feminists “buy[ing] into traditionally sexist notions about femininity—that it is artificial, contrived, and frivolous; that it is a ruse that only serves the purpose of attracting and appeasing the desires of men”. She writes about “empowering” femininity.*** She also claims to know that “certain aspects of femininity (as well as masculinity) are natural and can both precede socialization and supersede biological sex”.**** It’s actually really disappointing. I did hope for at least some glimmer of insight, or perhaps a bit less misogyny (but what would I know? I’m too busy making the world sexist simply by pointing out that sexism exists). (more…)

In The Female Malady Elaine Showalter describes the work of Dr Isaac Baker Brown, a nineteenth-century doctor who promoted clitoridectomy as a cure for female insanity:

Brown was a member of the Obstetrical Society of London who became convinced that madness was caused by masturbation and that surgical removal of the clitoris, by helping women to govern themselves, could halt a disease that would otherwise proceed inexorably from hysteria to spinal irritation and thence to idiocy, mania, and death.

Seeing this through twenty-first century eyes, it appears obvious this treatment had little to do with women’s welfare; it was about male dominance, horror of female sexuality and the enforcement of “femininity”, as defined by men. Showalter notes that many of Brown’s patients “seem to have been especially sensitive to the hypocrisy and repressiveness of Victorian social codes”; they were non-compliant women who were forced, through surgical brutality, to comply:

Clitoridectomy is the surgical enforcement of an ideology that restricts female sexuality to reproduction. The removal of the clitoris eliminates the woman’s sexual pleasure, and it is indeed this autonomous sexual pleasure that Brown defined as the symptom, perhaps the essence, of female insanity. Many of his successful case studies ended with the woman’s pregnancy.

Female sexuality is reduced to reproduction – and, clearly, to the providing of male pleasure. Better a woman never orgasms at all than that she should orgasm without anyone watching. (more…)

According to a report in The Independent, “nappies could have parenting advice printed on them to encourage mothers and fathers to talk to their babies more often”. The proposal, raised by government-partnered The Behavioural Insights Team (see website – I’m sure they’re regular nappy-changers, one and all), is aimed at “nudging” (aka patronising) people into adopting better lifestyle choices. I have to say, I’m not convinced.

I understand the importance of parents talking to their babies. I understand, too, that the benefits of this aren’t always immediately obvious. You can spend hours chatting away to your child without the foggiest idea of whether anything’s sinking in (unless we’re talking about swear words and criticisms of family members – they’ll definitely remember those). It is good, to a certain extent, to be reminded that one’s hapless babbling is not in vain. Nonetheless, I have some serious misgivings about this overall plan. (more…)

One week in November.

This is a normal week. It’s not Rape Week or the annual Festival for the Promotion of Sexual Assault. It’s just seven days in a world where we’re basically okay with women being raped. (more…)

It’s International Men’s Day! A day upon which we recognise that not only does masculinity make life crap for women and girls – it tends to fuck things up for men and boys too! What a swizz! Best get busy dismantling the whole damn edifice.

Only joking. Of course, nobody’s really going to challenge male supremacy on behalf of men. What kind of madcap idea would that be? God forbid. Let’s just keep on polishing the same old turd. It can’t make things any worse, right?

We know the facts: men are by far the most likely to commit violent crime and the victims are themselves most likely to be men. We know that men are more likely than women to commit suicide. We know that there’s plenty to do with being a man that is, quite frankly, a bit shit. But when it comes to achieving gender equality, who do we focus on changing? Women. Because, despite the obvious opportunities for self-analysis and change, it seems the dominant class isn’t the problem; it’s the subjugated class for letting themselves be so, well, subjugated. (more…)

2014-11-16 12_44_53-transawarebristol - Twitter Search

Hey, check out this poster from #transawarebristol! Isn’t it inclusive? Isn’t it liberating? Doesn’t it say everything you’d want it to say? No more shall bigoted females take it upon themselves to have opinions about who should share enclosed spaces with them; after all, it’s not up to them! Fuck them and their irrational, hysterical little phobias! Only some people are allowed to feel threatened, or to have an idea about what womanhood means, and it sure as hell isn’t them. Other people know best.

I’ll be honest: I am struggling to see how this type of “don’t worry your pretty little head about this, proto-bigot” approach to gender liberation is of use to anyone. Women don’t worry about personal safety for the fun of it, nor do they seek to set their own boundaries just because they’re stupid and mean. They have fears relating to male bodies that are real and valid, and a sense of self that is as authentic as anyone else’s. Telling them “well, you shouldn’t – other people’s feelings come first” is just misogyny 101. (more…)

Earlier this week Suzanne Moore wrote a piece for the Guardian criticising what she called “selfie feminism” – a feminism in which consciousness raising has collapsed into endless self-regard and self-flagellation: “Regrets, disordered eating, feeling deeply unlovable. There may be a sisterhood, but it’s too often a fake intimacy, a self-reinforcing victimhood.” It’s a feminism I recognise in myself.

I choose, sometimes, to write about my life, my experiences, my fears. Partly it’s because I am a bit self-obsessed and partly it’s a way of putting things in context, but on top of that, it’s because I feel an immense pressure to offer up lived experience to prove that my opinions are valid. I don’t think men experience the same pressures (yet another reason why being a woman is a bit shit).

Moore points out that “women are always giving away too much information”. I think this is true, but then women are also assumed, by default, to have no inner lives. We exist to define men. Is it any wonder that we feel driven to keep spewing out more and more of the stuff that could remain deep inside us? Look! I feel this! And this! And this! Now do you believe I have feelings? Unfortunately it rarely works. “Lived experience” is most powerful when it means “something that someone male could experience” or “something that someone male would want someone female to experience”. Your insides are only good for reinforcing your status as a surface-only being. Should your feelings coincide with what you’re meant to feel, then good for you, but don’t kid yourself that anyone really cares. Authenticity isn’t what people are after; they just want evidence that you “fit”. (more…)

Time magazine is running a poll on words that should be banned in 2015, of which one of those proposed is “feminist”. I think we can all get behind that. Who wouldn’t be bored of feminism by now? It’s been going on for ages – for at least as long as women realised a) that they were people, too, and b) that men were behaving like shits.

So yes, I am tired of this whole feminism thing. Apart from anything else, it’s so bloody repetitive. Always the same thing, year in, year out. When will it ever end? I’m bored of being a feminist. Aren’t you? (more…)

According to the online commissioning briefs of CBBC, the channel is “for everyone, everywhere”. Still, let’s not get carried away. The whole thing might sound diverse but apparently “children haven’t changed as much as we might think: girls are still girls and boys are still boys”. But what does that even mean?

If you’re hoping that “Our Guide to the CBBC Audience” might offer further details, you’re out of luck. That webpage is now blank, following complaints about sexist stereotyping earlier this year. Back then anyone hoping to pitch to CBBC would be informed that male viewers were “task focused” while female ones were “emotionally focused”:

Girls are more socially adept and motivated than boys. They will chat enthusiastically, try to support the people they care about and form profound friendships and relationships and develop an interest in boys from age 10. […] [Boys] enjoy achieving goals and completing physical challenges. There is a focus on doing, confrontation and physical strength, and for many their football team is a top priority. […] They often think girls of their age are annoying but like to talk about their body parts and sex.

Interesting, right? And handy, not just if you’re penning the latest white male hero plus ethnic minority male sidekick plus equal-but-not female helper cartoon series (hello, Mike the fucking Knight!). It’s almost as though CBBC commissioners were planning ahead, for a future in which today’s young girls end up passive, patient carers for today’s young boys, who will be out there having their own adventures and not giving a shit about anyone (because hey, supporting people you care about is girls’ stuff!). It’s such a shame that Mumsnet feminists caught wind of all this and forced them to cover their tracks! (more…)

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 10,012 other followers