Showing posts with label lashings of rage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lashings of rage. Show all posts

04 April, 2010

Feminist Rage™ - the brand you can trust?

The Big Bad Feminist. It’s a cliché we all know and loathe – ugly, hairy, either too fat (and therefore minging) or too thin (and therefore bitterly bustless), lesbian because she’s been rejected by men (because we all know that’s how sexuality works!) and yet somehow hoping for some nice chap to “turn” her, possessed of a Victorianly hysterical victim complex, possibly vegan, and probably wearing organic hessian dungarees. But above all, angry. Not in a torrid, “feisty one, you are!” fuck-or-fight kind of way, but... well, dear me, pass the smelling salts, in a terribly unseemly, unfeminine way.

And of course, it’s all that ire and bitterness that makes her not only angry, but pathologically enraged almost to the point of statemented disability. To your left, ladies and gentlemen, the lesser-spotted Feminazi! See her (because it is always a “her”, naturally) stalk through free-range lentil markets! Witness her trade communist propaganda leaflets for mung beans! Recoil in horror as she kicks random innocent men in the balls! ...Yawn, verily. Haven’t been there, will never get the T-shirt, because it’s a load of groundless bollocks. Where exactly this stereotype comes from is more of a mystery (oh yeah, apart from the fevered imaginations of tabloids and louts’ mags) and I have yet to meet an avowed anti-feminist who’s ever met a real live feminist, let alone one like that.

... Are you waiting for a “but” yet? Because the problem is, there is one. Passion is integral to any kind of conviction or activism, usually on the angry side; strong belief in anything engenders a will to fight for it. And what a telling phrase that is in its aggression, for ’twas ever thus; when societal evolution goes awry, revolution is always against its status quo, whether that be slave-trading or whaling or serfdom or rule by monarchy.

Or sexism. I was struck reading Kira Cochrane’s interview with the author of Living Dolls: The Return of Sexism with how struck she was by Walter’s apparent calm; the article even opens, “I'm trying to establish just how often the feminist writer Natasha Walter gets angry”. Of course, Cochrane is no numbNuts, quickly championing the validity of feminist rage, and I am not about to rehash her article – but it got my pretty little head thinking. So much feminist debate and defence (even on this blog of late) centres on dismantling the fictional bully-girl/self-appointed victim who roams the organic markets of our adversaries’ imaginations, and in some ways, rightly so. Certainly none of the feminists I've met conform to this stereotype – if anything, quite the opposite.

Whether it’s contentedness born of having worked out what they believe and want in life, the independence and originality that tend to accompany openness to unpopular ideas, the fact that a well-developed sense humour is so essential to sanely navigating an insane world, or what, I don’t know – but all the female feminists I've known or met are confident, positive, witty, and generally just fun. What’s more, a great many (if not most, in my personal experience) are also – shock and rocky horror – in fulfilling, stable relationships. Mostly with – nurse! the sal volatile and a fan, at once! – heterosexual feminist men. It also bears mentioning that, on the whole, they’re a pretty damn good-looking bunch too (not “just” to their fellow feminists, I might add; a fair few models grace our ranks, donchaknow. I think that says a lot about how society treats even the “lucky” women who conform to its beauty myth). Overall, feminists are generally pretty productive, happy people – quite strikingly so.

And this is all fine and dandy except that, directed to non-, or (more to the point) anti-, feminists, it falls on frantically-plugged ears further deafened by the sand in which their owners’ heads are buried. Deciding whether to engage with these people at all is of course a Hobson’s choice between preaching only to the converted and trying to reason with what is often the intellectual equivalent of a brick wall, but if any debate is to be undertaken, I think we need to change its terms.

There is a tendency (understandable given the PMT-ridden, irrational-not-intellectual popular “bloody women” construct) to shy away from our emotions in feminism, to show how detachedly logical it all is. I think this is a mistake because it can be not only transparently disingenuous, but also a spectacular own-goal. Maintaining the kind of Socratic serenity needed to argue protractedly for feminism is a noble but (for a good 99% of us, anyway) impossible goal, and I would challenge most human beings of any socio-political persuasion to defend something they’re passionate about that dispassionately without an unholy amount of Valium.

Ironically enough, I think we stand a better chance of maintaining calm by acknowledging turmoil; in a debate so popularly (gender-)constructed as women’s emotional overreactions vs. what “everybody knows” the world is “really” like, as passion vs. reason, we’re missing a trick by buying into that binary. It’s a truism that the personal is political; I believe passion and reason are just as intertwined. “Angry” is an adjective not an insult, and even our worse dismissal, “bitterness”, cannot be triggered in a vacuum; we shouldn’t be trying to explain how feminism isn’t angry and bitter, but why it has reason to be. There are few more logical laws than that of cause and effect.

So really, so what if they call us us angry feminists; what's it to us when we can cogently articulate why our anger makes perfect sense? But wait, what’s that rustling in the bushes? To your right, ladies and gentlemen, the greater-spotted “make me a sandwich” brigade! Watch in amazement as they fail to argue their way out of a Subway bag.

15 February, 2010

Idiot's Guide to Blaming Rape Victims

Below is a handy cut-out-and-keep list of all the situations in which it is acceptable and right to blame the victim of a sex attack for their own misfortune:

1.


Now, you may notice a lack of actual situations presented. And the reason for this is quite simple. It's never acceptable. A recent survey suggests that 71% of women think a victim who dresses provocatively, goes back to the attacker's house for a drink or gets into bed with their attacker ought to take some blame for what happens. This is, of course, horseshit.

I don't get the cult of victim blaming in rape cases. When a man is mugged, do we question whether or not he was 'asking' for it? Maybe he was dressed too smartly, made himself look like rich pickings. How stupid of him to wear expensive clothes! He was practically asking to be targeted. Particularly if he was walking around late at night, all by himself.
Maybe he'd given money away in the past, quite willingly. A man with a history of giving money away surely can't be surprised when the police don't believe the money was taken from him forcefully.
We don't make these assertions because they are utterly ridiculous; the blame lies squarely with the person BREAKING THE LAW, the perpetrator. In no other crime is the victim so harshly scrutinised, so quickly judged.

Listen. It's very simple. If I go out at 11pm at night, by myself, and I'm wearing lipstick and a short skirt, and Cod forbid, I am raped, it is not my fault. If I meet a guy at a bar and agree to come back to his for a drink and he decides to take things further against my will, it is not my fault. It is the fault of the man who decides that these factors make me fair game. He should have the presence of mind, the self control and the decency to realise that I am a human being, not a disposable fuck rag, and treat me as such. Unless I specifically state that yes, I would like sex with him at that time, he has no right - NO right - to force that upon me. My clothes, my company, and even my presence in his home are not qualifiers. They do not render me his possession, therefore there is no reason to assume the light is now green. To suggest these are valid reasons is to simplify rape, to dehumanise the victim - the rapist is no less in the wrong if the victim is butt naked than if she is wearing a full suit of body armour. The crime is exactly the same.

Men are not incapable of self control. They are perfectly reasonable, intelligent human beings capable of knowing right from wrong. Painting them as helpless brutes enslaved by their hormones and primal instincts, clubbing women about the head and dragging them back to their caves because they just can't help themselves, not with all that temptation, is massively disrespectful to men on the whole and does a disservice to them. Men know that to force sex upon women against their will is an act of violation. It's not like there's any ambiguity about this, not when you actually use your brain.

It's very simple. Unless she clearly consents, you are raping her. A short skirt is not consent. A cup of coffee or a glass of wine in your living room is not consent. If you make the logistical leap from "a woman has agreed to come to my house" to "a woman has agreed to have sex with me" then the blame lies squarely and clearly with you. So when Rich, UK makes the following post on a BBC message board, I can't help but think he's a) an insensitive dick and b) completely misguided on what constitutes the conduct of a decent human being around a highly vulnerable woman:

Sadly, the main reason my marriage ended was because my then wife couldn't take any responsibility for her attack. Rape is wrong. But if a woman on medication for bi-polar disorder that specifically says not to drink alcohol, decides to go out on her own and drink herself into a stupor, cavort with various men in a sexual manner and agree to leave a nightclub with a man, then gets attacked, some blame must surely be attributed to her as she ultimately put herself at risk.

The philosophy behind victim blaming is not particularly complex. It's known a the 'Just World Theory' (or sometimes the 'Just World Fallacy') - People to want to believe that the world is just and fair. This is their personal comfort zone, and when they are thrown out of their comfort zone by witnessing something which is inexplicably unjust - such as rape - they will attempt to rationalise it by finding reasons to blame the victim for their own misfortune. They can maintain their belief in a just world, but only by blaming the victim for something that was not, objectively, their fault. Their comfort zone remains undisturbed. They feel safer; they know that such an injustice won't happen to them because they won't invite it upon themselves like the rape victim did. As a form of defence, it's equivalent to sticking your fingers in your ears and pretending that not hearing something means it didn't happen.

A 1999 study by social psychologist Linda Carli shows victim blame in action. From Wikipedia: Female and male subjects were told two versions of a story about an interaction between a woman and a man. Both variations were exactly the same, except at the very end the man raped the woman in one and in the other he proposed marriage. In both conditions, both female and male subjects viewed the woman's (identical) actions as inevitably leading to the (very different) results.

Victim blame is not new. It's not shocking. But it is tiresome, and it is about time we exposed it for the pile of steaming, rancid illogic that it is.



(Quick edit: It seems I misinterpreted the BBC report. The 71% refer specifically to the number of women who believe getting into bed with a person means they should accept responsibility for the consequences. The actual report itself is a real shocker, particularly when you read that 15% of women believe that just accepting a drink and engaging in conversation provides grounds for victim blame. The report, in it's entirety, can be found here. Thanks for the heads up CMaster!)

23 October, 2009

No amount of bias can damage the BNP as much as Nick Griffin did.

I don't think this needs any real introduction: Nick Griffin's appearance on Question Time has made front page news and even our friends over at the Stun are foregoing their usual Jordan-based headline to squeeze Jolly Saint Nick in.
Somewhat predictably, the far right backlash has started to kick in, attempting to make a martyr of hapless Mr Griffin. Let's look at their primary argument:

"Nick Griffin was victimised, not allowed to speak. The whole show was a Lefty set up"

Interesting accusation. Having applied to be in the audience, and having recieved a response from the BBC telling me they were rejecting my application on the basis of wanting a fair representation of pro/anti BNP politics in the audience (coupled with the occasional cheers for Nick Griffin heard on the show) I think it's fairly evident that the audience was not a hostile block of Guardian-reading lefty "knit your own yoghurt" types. Plenty of the aforementioned type in the audience, yes, but not the complete lefty whitewash theorised by Griffin's supporters. Griffin was offered several opportunities to speak, asked for his opinions on various matters along with the rest of the panel.
It's not the fault of the "Guardianistas" that whenever he did open his mouth a gust of nonsense escaped. It's not the fault of the 'liberals' that Nick Griffin spent more time laughing, trembling and grinning inanely than actually defend his policies and viewpoints. How can this man profess to aspire to becoming a 'mainstream' party if he can't cope with opposition? Did he expect people not to fiercely contest his divisive policies, his slapdash summary of Islam, his dressing up racism as 'immigration policy'? Really? Honestly?

The same people deriding the BBC and audience for "victimising" Mr Griffin are lapping up the same treatment of Jack Straw. Dimbleby's protestations that Straw answer the question, that he was evading the issue, were no more or less vehement than his protestations at Mr Griffin's constant refusal to properly answer any question posed to him. The same people railing at the audience for deriding and mocking Griffin are cheering at the same treatment afforded to Jack Straw. Hypocritical much?
That the audience responded by jeering was testament to Griffin's lack of coherence and the glaring idiocy of what he eventually did say. That they responded with personal remarks shows just how close to the bone the BNP's hateful policies cut. People with non-white friends and family, people with black parents or Asian partners or gay children - these are the people who hate the BNP. It's not a leftist conspiracy, it's the reasonable anger of those excluded, derided and hurt by Griffin's politics. Personal responses are entirely justified, in my opinion, by policies and statements which base themselves around the personal beliefs of the knuckle-dragging far right trolls the BNP call their support. If suggesting that gay men ought not kiss in public because it's 'creepy' isn't personal, then what is...?

When asked about his previous denial of the holocaust, Griffin replied 'I can't explain why I used to say those things. I cannot tell you any more than I can tell you why I changed my mind. I can't tell you the extent I changed my mind.' On homosexuality Griffin revealed himself both to be hideously intolerant and more than a little bit childish - "A lot of people find the sight of two grown men kissing in public very creepy" - before going on to slam "militant" homosexuals teaching kids about homosexuality (Invading a primary school near you!) It's astonishingly ill-thought out comments such as these that made Nick Griffin a laughing stock, not an 'orchestrated campaign'. The idea that Griffin was victimised by people who wanted to foster prejudice is hilariously ironic in the face of Griffin's own politics, which uses fear and misinformation to attack the "other", who talks of the evil in the Koran without stopping to consider the evil in the Christian Bible (how about this lovely quote about unbelievers?
"Thou shalt not consent unto him, nor hearken unto him; neither shall thine eye pity him, neither shalt thou spare, neither shalt thou conceal him: But thou shalt surely kill him; thine hand shall be first upon him to put him to death, and afterwards the hand of all the people." (Deuteronomy 13:8-9)"

Or about women?

"If however the charge is true and no proof of the girl's virginity can be found, she shall be brought to the door of her father's house and there the men of her town shall stone her to death..." (Deuteronomy 22:13-21)"

The point being, of course, that it is deeply ironic and misguided for this man to claim Islam to be a hateful religion based on his apparently cursory understanding of the Koran when clearly he is not aware that his own religious book preaches the same morals. And yet here he is, lambasting Islam and Sharia law without comprehending that the religion he wishes to base his society on is equally capable of throwing forth hateful, bigoted statements. Pot, kettle, indigenous.

The fact remains - and it is a fact - that the BNP are a party whose policies are not based in politics at all, but rather social commentary. A lot is being made of the manner in which Griffin was treated and yes, even I believe there could have been a little more decorum. But don't be fooled. Under the anger and the sniping it was clear that Griffin is an ineffectual racist. No amount of orchestrating from the left could have incriminated him more than he incriminated himself. What we saw, underneath the furore, was a man with a frail grasp of his own ideologies - unable to explain exactly what he meant by 'indigenous' (which is a farcial concept in itself given Britain's history of invasion and occupation spanning centuries) and ineffective in the face of criticism. He was unable to answer, when asked directly by an audience member, a key question regarding his wish to return Britain to it's 'great white roots' asked by a British Asian (of the type the BNP refutes the existence of) He repeated "I was misquoted" like a mantra despite Youtube providing primary evidence to the contrary. He was like a school bully with his pants pulled down.

It's shame the Question Time audience and panel didn't quiz Griffin on his party's policies beyond the issue of immigration and race. For seasoned BNP watchers like myself, the show just confirmed what we already knew - that Griffin is a parody of xenophobic hysteria, a one trick pony filled with hot air and soundbites and very little else. For the average viewer, tuning in out of curiosity or hoping to learn something, it was a massacre. A deserved massacre, and one which showed beyond doubt that the BNP have some truly abhorrent beliefs. But to question him about the economy, about education, about crime - these questions would have shone a torch upon the gaping hole in the BNP's manifesto. They don't have any ideas. They don't have any plans - beyond kicking out the forruns, they haven't actually thought of what to do with the country. The emperor may think otherwise, but he's definitely not wearing any clothes.

The BNP's popularity - and let's not forget that "popularity" is a very relative term - can be attributed solely to their occupation of a gap in British politics. They exploit the disenfranchisement of the working class (believe me, I am working class myself) by pretending that their problems are caused by brown people rather than the rich middle-class white man (of which Nick Griffin can count himself a member) and exploit the discontent of the middle classes, angry at the sharing of their previously exclusive privileges by telling them that when the country is emptied, they can go back to enjoying their perks. There are issues not being addressed by any of the major parties (not even you, Baroness Warsi, covering your rampant batshit homophobia under the guise of "not being quite as bad as Nick Griffin") but to believe that the BNP will address them with workable policies ("Pull up the drawbridge, shut the doors and kick out the wogs" is not a workable policy) is to be suckered in by Nick Griffin's snake oil patter. If Question Time showed us anything, it's that the BNP can't truly be considered a viable alternative, no matter what the failings of the Big Three might be.

01 October, 2009

Because stopping women getting cancer is wrong - according to the Fail (sometimes).

Pop along to the Fail's website, and there's an almost daily stream of articles on the evils of the cervical cancer vaccine.

Apparently it will encourage promiscuity and bring numerous health problems.

Now, sadly, a fourteen year old girl has died. Unsurprisingly, the Mail were quick to blame her death on the cancer jab she'd had two hours before - either "an extreme reaction", or a dose from a "rogue contaminated batch".

Neither of these turned out to be the case, and it turns out that Natalie had a tumour in her heart and lungs. Her death shortly after receiving the jab was just an unfortunate coincidence, but one the Daily Mail were all-too-happy to blame on Cervarix.

Out of one million girls, 4,657 have reported side effects "including sore arms, dizziness and swelling". I, and many of my friends, had these after being given a meningitis jab at the age of 11/12, yet the Daily Mail seem to have no qualms about children being immunised against meningitis.

The Daily Mail's major concern seems to be these fears of "promiscuity". The argument that a vaccine will prompt a nation of 13-year-old girls to go out and have sex is just astounding. Despite what the Mail seem to think, teenage girls aren't all complete idiots. Yes, some do get pregnant. But the vast majority of 13-19 year old girls DON'T. Having a cancer vaccine isn't going to change these facts.

Their stance against the jab is even more shocking when you consider their constant coverage of the death of Jade Goody. This woman's painful and traumatic death was front page news for months. I do not want to go through that. I don't want anybody to go through that. I'm amazed that some parents are still denying their daughters the innoculation, when we've seen first hand what cervical cancer can do to a young woman.

But what's this?

"The Irish Daily Mail launched a campaign in November calling on the Government to reverse its decision to axe the cervical cancer vaccination programme...The Irish Daily Mail will not relent and will continue to urge the roll out of the vaccine"

Words actually fail me. I didn't think even the Fail could be quite THIS hypocritical.

03 September, 2009

Love Music, Hate Sexism

Apologies first of all, fair readers, that this post is not directly linked to the Fail. Oh, I know it's a great read, but my head was turned by baser reading material this week; yes, that's right, I almost bought a magazine about a genuinely interesting topic, instead of which skin cream will bag me a bachelor but give me cancer if I don't cook for him.

Almost, but not quite. You see, I do like bands. But I also like being a girl.

I remember quite vividly the first time it occurred to me that these two things could be incompatible. I was fourteen, we'd just got the internet, and a whole new world of fandom was opening before me. And then there it was; a scan of Kerrang magazine, Davey Havok and Dexter Holland sharing the cover with the headline, "ROCK IN THE DOCK: is rock music sexist?" I never did track down the article, but I even neverer forgot its title.

Those words have come back to me a lot over the years, most times I've read about Courtney Love or Brody Dalle, and every time I've flicked past yet another male-targeted advert in a music magazine. (Yes, I sometimes read the NME; no, that does not mean I aspire to style my manly hair into so improbable a quiff that women will dance on tables in its honour thus allowing me to look up their skirts, Shockwaves haircare). But this week really took the balls-up biscuit. Shipped out to Marylebone because Euston thought it might perhaps possibly be on fire and with a four-hour train journey ahead of me, I trudged into WHSmiths for something to read. Oh look, a new Q! But oh wait, it's shrink-wrapped to FHM.

Er, what the fuck? I stared at it for a moment, processed the fact that one of my favourite magazines had just turned to shit before my very eyes, and walked out of the shop.

I don't care how much it comes down to publishers' alliances, I don't care what snivelling little marketing strategy is behind it, I don't care if some girl whose face has started popping up in the London Lite has taken her "hippy chic" clothes off, but I am fucking livid that a magazine I really respected precisely because it was so much more interesting, well-written, and generally grown-up than its peers has done that for which every successful band risks crucifixion in the music media; sold out.

Well, I'm not buying it. I'm not sure what I'll buy instead (the NME's too flimsy, no-one at Artrocker can spell... maybe Clash will fill the gap) but Q can stick it; I'm sure FHM can tell them where.

18 June, 2009

Horny Hernu vs. The Front Page Campaign

What is it with the name “Piers”? The first that springs to mind is of course Mr. Morgan, but lately it’s been his equally slimy, paunched namesake getting (he wishes) on my tits; Piers Hernu, sometime Daily Mail contributor and, as I have had to hear twice on the radio this week, former editor of Front magazine and contributor to FHM. Journalism is of course the world’s second oldest profession – but no more so than in Mr. Hernu’s case does one suspect it was only an excuse to sidle a little closer to the oldest.

The reason for the BBC’s infliction of his dulcet tones is the Front Page Campaign, which, having recently won lottery funding, is now also receiving some media attention, leading to on-air debate between its founder (Amy King) and Piers Hernu. The campaign’s stated aim is “to protect children from offensive media and restore choice for adults”, particularly regarding “sexually explicit photographs and language”. In practical terms, this is a demand that such material be age-restricted and placed on the top shelf, out of sight and reach of children, but still perfectly accessible to adults. So what’s all the fuss about? Horny Hernu’s ego, apparently.

The first broadcast took place on 5live on Monday. I wondered at first if he's got real live friends to go out with at the weekends, because Hernu still sounded drunk; judging from his second performance on Radio Ulster on Wednesday, he’s either an inept alcoholic or has mugged one for their baseless bravado. When he wasn’t busy sniggering or talking over Ms. King (a tactic most of us leave behind with ill-judged haircuts and notes home from the teacher) Hernu repeated a couple of MENSAesque points over both interviews.

Firstly, lads’ mags are “clearly not sexually explicit” because “um, you know, I think that there’s a, a big, ermmm” – *wheezy silence* – “problem here with, with, with mistaking, erm, toplessness with pornography”. Well, quite. After all, the term definitely wasn’t “sexually explicit” rather than “pornography”, and anyway tits and ass have absolutely nothing to do with male heterosexual arousal – it’s really all just an NHS-sponsored biology campaign. Everybody else can tell that lads' mags are sexually explicit why doesn't one of their own contributors have the Nuts to admit it?

Then, on Wednesday, he squawked that “if you were to suggest this to any other country in the whole of Europe, they would laugh you out, you know, th- they would just laugh at you, because the rest of Europe has a much more enlightened attitude towards nudity and sexuality”.

Question: has Hernu ever been to the rest of Europe? I know it’s a funny foreign place all the way across the channel, but had he ever lumbered aboard a Eurostar, he might conceivably be aware that, actually, the rest of Europe wouldn’t need to “laugh… out, you know, laugh at” anyone for starting a Front Page Campaign, because they simply don’t have a comparable lads’ mag “culture” to protest in the first place. Their “enlightened attitude towards nudity and sexuality” would balk as much at Zoo as it does every summer at its escapees’ yearly migration to Eye-beef-fah. (And if we really had a problem with “sexually repressed morality”, we might have less of a problem with teenage pregnancy which – oh look! – is the highest in Europe).

So far, so dense. But he wouldn’t be a proper little sexist without a good bit of cliché thrown in, would he? Never fear, he’s on the case; “it’s usually some embittered old harridan who’s got- who gets on her high horse about this, and, and, you know, nobody actually listens, ’cause this has come up time and time again, you know, various women have fronted these kind of campaigns and, as usual, it, er, it turns out that there aren’t lots of people up in arms about this, there aren’t lots of children traumatised by this, it’s just, it’s just not the case that people are bothered about it”. Well yes, of course; “women” – the word spat out like curdled milk – taking issue with it is entirely different from proper “people” doing so, isn’t it?

Ms. King’s citation of surveys indicating that 98% of the general public agree with the campaign was met with further bluster, and burblings about young men being “slowly broken in, as it were, to the harsh realities” – *snort*– “of the sexual world”. But whose sexual world? Lads’ mags have nothing to do with the delicate flowering of male sexuality and everything to do with the entrenchment of male sexism. An airbrushed, submissive, surgically-enhanced, Aryan model flaunting her knickers and knockers isn’t sex; it’s wank-fodder. Wank-fodder, no less, for the spotty teenager who can’t get a real girl because he doesn’t know how to - and Nuts and Zoo sure as hell aren’t going to teach him.

Well, maybe if he's really lucky he'll grow up to be as “embittered” about “various women” as poor old Piers Hernu himself. Sexual enlightenment, my arse.

I am NOT selfish because I don't want to marry or have children. Quite the opposite!

I don't want children.
I first said this in conjunction with "I don't want to get married" at the age of 8. I am now 31 and not only do some people (not my Mum, bless her) STILL not believe me, I am being actively critisized by the Daily Fail for not breeding - in the past few days we've had:

"Women should have babies between the ages of 20 and 35 or risk missing out on motherhood, doctors have warned."

This came complete with several of the usual understanding, sensible comments such as:

Thanks but no thanks. I will have a child when I am good and ready. At 18, 25, 35 or 45. No later, as I see it morally wrong, just as I see no right in any government to tell me when and how I should have a child, manage my life, etc.
- Simon T., Right here, UK, 16/6/2009 6:39

Errr Simon, they mean women, you twazzock.

Swiftly followed by this gem:

"Baby, you left it too late: Two women reveal how they gambled on late motherhood...with very different results "

And this is one of the comments that actually greatly upset me:

I am so glad to have the Gospel of Jesus Christ in my life and to know that there is a Divine Design, and that marriage and families are part of it, and that children are to welcomed into a marriage, not postponed because of a career. Selfishness. So often, we do reap what we sow, don't we.
- Donna, Calgary, AB Canada, 17/6/2009 5:24

I am not bloody selfish, and I'll tell you why:

I have no problem with children. I have a niece and step nephew who I love dearly. I am always the woman children seem to migrate to at weddings and parties - maybe they like that I talk to them like they have a brain, and aren't morons, who knows - but I am not some bitter old hag who put my career first.

That seems to be the greatest myth - that feminists, and women generally who choose not to have children, are some sort of career driven, materialistic, robot monster bitches without a loving bone in their body. I don't have a "career". I have a job that I like very much, and I have been promoted a few times, but it's hardly CEO...

Also, have any of these idiotic, insensitive commenters considered that maybe, just maybe, not having a child can be a selfless act?
I suffer from severe depression, which my father passed to me. If it's genetic, which I believe it can be, there is NO WAY I am passing that to a child, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I had terrible, terrible acne that had to be severely treated, and I'm almost certified blind. I am NOT passing that on either! My parents (and a disturbing amount of my friends) are divorced - I don't want to get married because it lessens my chance of divorce quite significantly. Divorce messes kids up - I should know!
Finally, I am in a lot of debt and the Fail would be the first to complain if I was getting benefits because of a child.

I didn't know all of this when I was 8, but I was bloody right and I will not accept that I am being selfish.

08 June, 2009

Sleeping With The Enemy

Normally I try to offer some kind of comprehensive argument in postings, with background, both sides of the debate and proposed solutions.

But this time I’m just going to put it out there, because I am stumped.

Several conversations have been had recently about the so-called ‘rules’ of dating, and it’s slowly been eating away at me to the point where I am actually pissed off.

Dating etiquette states that women are not supposed to ‘put out’ on the first night, ideally not until the second or third, if you’re actually serious about taking it further: getting down and dirty early doors, apparently, means you are easy and is akin to wearing bells on your ankles the word “unclean” daubed on your face in menstrual blood.

For example, an English friend of mine always goes for it on the first date because, well, what’s the point in going out with someone if you’re not compatible sexually, something a lot of Northern Europeans seem to think too. She has a very good point, but most of the men she dates it seems disagree. “Job done” appears to be the overwhelming attitude. Now neither her nor I would suggest everyone follows her lead but, surely if the man is comfortable getting to ‘it’, then he is as responsible as the woman?

The implication is that that a woman has to act all coy and prim for, like, 10 hours, and then let it all hang out as if some mystical chirpse-threshold has been passed.

The man, meanwhile, is just a cock-on-tap ready to go when the light shines green but is tied inexorably into the ludicrous assumption that somehow following a pointless manifesto makes them any more or less desirable.

This is, well, insulting, to both men and women.

What do people think? Why is it that women are thought of in lesser terms when they do what most men would be prepared to do? Shouldn’t the fact that we are allowed and encouraged to sex each other outside of marriage have rendered such protocol redundant?

I am not sure. I know where I stand (not giving a fuck, if you’ll pardon the pun) but what about my fellow Femis? Answers on a novelty Sarah Palin condom packet please.

07 June, 2009

Last Post on the Sexually-Harassed Bugle

It is sadly common for feminists to be accused of hating men; all the more so feminazis, presumably bitter at male rejection of our Hitlerian moustaches (because all howwid feminininiths of any description are ugly hairy lesbians in want of a man to turn them, doncha know). Over the last few days, this blog could to the untrained eye have appeared to be conforming to this stereotype, what with all our decidedly unwomanly protestation at uninvited male attention. I'm sure we'll be back to attacking the other sort of Mail soon enough, but I couldn't help giving one last hurrah today.

Like any self-unrespecting binge-drinking ladette at the root of 25% of violent crime, I went out last night. I went out in Temple to be precise, which being at the opposite end of London to where I live, involved lots of walking and night buses. I was actually pretty lucky, though; I was only harassed twice all night. There was nothing remarkable about either incident, but it got me thinking, in my remnant rage this morning, about the worst cases I or my friends have encountered before. So, in no particular order, I give you...


Passing Pervert Top Trumps

1. "C'mon... I hit women all the time".

I was 15, he looked about 12. This was the last trick up his salacious sleeve after following me through an arcade in the middle of the day, asking me if I gave blow-jobs. His two little brothers looked on.

2. "But, you are ugly".
She was 15, he was in his early 20s. She was not, and never will be, a minger. He and his friends, spending their Friday nights surrounding groups of underage girls in shitty nightclubs, most definitely were.

3. "I'm not going to stop running until you stop walking".
I was 16, he looked about 14. As I strode back from school one afternoon, he puffed his laboured way along beside me for a good ten minutes before I outran him for the last sprint home.

4. "Ssss, ssss, tsk tsk".

Repeatedly, over the last ten years, in a variety of locations. The most memorable was a middle-aged man accosting we two 14-year-olds in a lunchtime market... with his wife and two children a metre or so behind him.

5. "You look fifteen, let me take you out for dinner... I just wanna know you".
I'm 23, he looked in his late 30s. He was the cashier in my local Tesco's, and spent several months trying to chat me up at the check-out, following me around the shop, and latterly throwing temper tantrums when I persisted in telling him that I was not interested and to leave me alone.


Those are the first five I can think of off the top of my head. Other charming non-verbal advances have included the threat of a hit-and-run when the guy drove his white van up onto the pavement for a closer look, and miming slitting our throats and/or shooting us.

Honestly, I don't know what we silly women are complaining about.

04 June, 2009

Oh for the love of... Breasts, apparently.

I apologise in advance for this blog. I have been out, and had drinks, with work and I am very grateful to be able to work in the current climate. But this riled me right up.

Earlier, in the pub, we were all standing about enjoying a nice pint, in my case cider (or a nice lame fruit or wine based drink for the ladies, allegedly) and I noticed our overall manager (let's call him Bob) was checking out my breasts, in a rather blatant manner.

I was drunk, but not stupid - I called him on it. I'm not worried he's my boss's boss's boss's whatever, I asked him why he had just done that so obviously (it was so obvious other people had noticed and suddenly became able to speak up against our admittedly otherwise cool "leader" who was earlier dissing the Tories, BNP blah blah and being agreeably left wing)...
His response?

He totally agreed he had been looking. Did anyone argue with this? Several other guys claimed ignorance and said "well, we've not noticed" and made "comical" eye shielding gestures. The women? Well in particular one lady, I'll call her Mavis, said "you have the best breasts in the department, they are amazing" or something along those lines. To be fair none of the ladies gave me any grief, but that's mainly because they know me I think.

I guess the whole point of this rather crap blog is: WHY do breasts become public property once they are 34DD or whatever size? Why are ANY breasts public property, to the extent a 32AA woman feels she should have a risky enlargement? Why do women accept this as well and nod along with men who are objectifying women in this way?

I am now home, and even though I was warned "Bob" was a letch (I told him this to his face) I still feel somehow I am in the wrong.

I had a great conversation with a woman in my dept today and she said, how would men feel if they were confronted by half naked pictures of their gender all over the papers and magazines and how she would love to do some sort of experiment where men would understand what it feels like for your body to feel like someone else's property. It is arguably why I didn't punch someone tonight!