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. Continue reading
When only one in five MPs are women and 85% of Cabinet ministers are male it’s easy to worry that women’s needs will be ignored. After all, if our policy makers inhabit a world in which the vast majority of people are men, isn’t that likely to colour their view of the people they represent? While it’s clear that women do not all share the same concerns, wouldn’t an environment in which being a woman is not in and of itself anomalous offer a good starting point from which to consider the diversity of all women’s views? I think it would; it bothers me that we remain so far from achieving this.
Of course, it could be that I worry too much. After all, it’s not as though the average MP has no contact whatsoever with womankind. Male MPs might, by and large, have been raised in creepy, ultra-posh all-male environments, but it’s not as though they never come face to face with real, live women in the here and now. They have wives! PAs! Nannies! Cleaners! Some of them even have daughters! What’s that if not an emotional investment in the future of the female population?
So I’ve decided I want to sign up for The Women’s Room. After all, if there’s one thing the media needs even more than women’s voices, it’s my woman’s voice and the not-all-that-well-informed opinions it articulates. I mean, look at me: I am a woman and I feel totally under-represented in the media (and literature and religion – hell, even my own household consists of me and three males). Hence as a suitably self-absorbed, opinionated person I feel the need to do my part. The only trouble is I’m not really an expert in anything.
Okay, that’s not strictly true. I am an expert in one obscure aspect of one part of nineteenth-century German literature. I wrote a PhD and a whole bloody book on it. If ever the rest of humanity comes to realise how essential it is to know about what Goethe was doing on a Tuesday in March 1811, they’ll come and ask me. And I won’t know because my PhD wasn’t on Goethe and I didn’t even get through the first ten pages of Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre. But anyhow, I know some random stuff and have thought some original thoughts on a subject no one else has bothered with (alas, I tend to think there’s a reason for this. Everyone else, you were probably right). Continue reading