How To Be a Woman

I was really excited to start reading Caitlin Moran’s How To Be a Woman, but I wasn’t sure what to expect. The tone is very accessible, which isn’t something I am usually keen on, but I think that’s her point. For Moran, feminism isn’t something that only women should care about, or even a certain type of woman. And damn right. I’m sick of women not knowing they need feminism and this book’s appeal to the mass market means that maybe the women who aren’t interested in women’s issues will realise it’s nothing to do with men-hating and maybe they will be able to see the inequality that still exists in the world.

I wasn’t expecting such an autobiographical text. However, on reflecting on the discussions within the UEA Feminist Society, I realise that this is a great way of communicating feminist topics – through recounting experiences and assessing the problems. In reading this book, it is impossible not to have an opinion. Due to disagreements within feminism, there is not a hard-and-fast manifesto of feminist utopia. We all have to come together and offer our opinion, to come to a compromise about what is best for both women and men of every race, culture and class. We have a long way to go. So, I thought I’d attempt to give my thoughts on some of the topics Moran covers. I imagine this will be longer than a blog post should be, yet shorter than a book.

Moran was inspired by Germaine Greer’s The Female Eunuch and so from one generation to the next, I will be using this book as an inspiration to give my two pennies worth. Although the age gap between Moran and Greer is almost triple that of mine and Moran’s, it would be too complex to do this with The Female Eunuch, which I have also read. Moran’s ideas are all easy to follow, whilst, when reading other more ‘intellectual’ writers, such as Cixous and de Beauvoir, there can be parts that go over my English-Literature-BA-(Hons)-2:1-head (I recently graduated – yay!). A little less high-brow than Butler and Appignanesi, this is a book you would enjoy reading on the beach or by the pool on holiday; this is a book that will make you run up to the diving board and shout ‘I AM A FEMINIST!’ before taking a big plunge.

Speaking of Greer, Moran comments on how she doesn’t agree with all her views. This reminded me of a poem I wrote in response to an article Greer wrote.

Germaine Greer

Germaine Greer writes about Mrs O’s dress
As the USA gets its first black president.
The Guardian call this news that they press
But it’s worth about as much as 50 cent.

It’s like taking one step forward and then two back
And demeans the event for the sake of controversy.
As the world celebrates the result for Barack,
Germaine Greer points out the bits that we failed to see.

The dress looked like a butcher’s apron
And the children were not girly enough.
Glad that I’m not one of them;
I wouldn’t be caught dead in that stuff!

Oh, Germaine Greer, as an academic scholar
Are you trying to tell us feminism is dead?
If this is your idea of irony, it isn’t worth a dollar,
If it’s a joke, I’d say be serious instead.

Germaine Greer what is feminism now, in your books?
Should we judge what every other woman wears?
After all, a woman’s role is shown by how she looks
And her importance equates to the number of male stares.

Germaine Greer did you not know we still fight
To be considered equals to men?
Should I be ashamed to say I’m a feminist and want my right?
It bleeds out through the ink of my pen.

Anyway, back to Moran. She begins on what many people would see as the first step to becoming a woman. Periods. Now you can (technically) have sex and reproduce, and you are open to the complexities of life and a have to plan your life around the damn thing. Luckily, my periods haven’t been as traumatic as those described in the book, but it’s still an extra pain in the arse, or rather a pain in the vag I guess. So, on top of my number one annoyance (hair removal – both especially annoying when it comes to sex) that women have to plan their life around, the period is there to disrupt things and I’m sure everyone would wish it didn’t exist. Because even if we are glad to be a woman, it is not something we can ever be ready for (and certainly not at age 11 or whatever) but we get used to it, like THAT customer that comes in every so often on your part-time retail job “not you again” we think. Things like counting down the days to realise it’s going to clash with a festival, or holiday, or anything that we actually want to look forward to. So, the first sign of becoming a woman appear to be that it is annoying, unfair and, as Moran put it, BULLSHIT. But, we can’t blame the patriarchy for that, so, let’s moves on.

As I have said so many times, I have given in to the pressure of hairless airbrushed images and try to remove as much as possible whilst still retaining an element of “womanliness” (I’m not going to spell it out). However, rather bizarrely I haven’t been for a wax since reading itMoran, what have you done to me? (Edit: I have had one since writing this as I took so long to get on with finishing it). I’m pretty sure it’s for practical reasons (time and money) rather than brainwashing. I did find this section very funny though, because a lot of the time, I don’t think men understand that woman are also born with hair all over our body and that ours is just generally thinner and lighter in certain places. One friend, describing these dilemmas says ‘I can’t budget correctly with all these “Random Fuck Factors” in my week. No wonder everyone’s a slag these days. Even if you don’t like anyone at the party, you want to get some return on your wax” (p. 49).

Even though this is humorous, I personally disagree with the term ‘slag’ (it’s too long to go in right now) and I also feel it should be noted that not all women get waxes “for” men – it helps with confidence (in addition to during sex), cleanliness (being “groomed”) and makes you feel like, not just a woman, but a strong woman. I got my first wax when I was 21 and it was a sign of being a woman prior to getting it done, but afterwards, I thought ‘wow, that was worse that any boy has broken my heart; now I can cope with anything, I am a STRONG woman and I can take on the world.’ Though it’s partly funny, it’s also rather tragic, and this is pin-pointed by the idea that these thousands of pounds we spend on hair removal is ‘just to look normal’. It is then my thoughts escalate to thinking that sanitary towels and hair removal should be on the NHS. It’s just not fair!

Moran makes it clear that men can be feminists too, but she does confuse the point on page 79, when she states that working out if you are a feminist is determined by asking yourself ‘Do you have a vagina?’ and ‘Do you want to be in charge of it?’ I wouldn’t say it that way myself, but it makes clear that her target audience for the book is female, and to be fair, she’d be right – not many men would read a book entitled ‘How To Be a Woman’. So, time to move on again.

She mentions ‘Girl Power’ which I know has been criticised for different reasons, but, thinking back, it was the Spice Girls that made me aware of any vague notion of feminism, so it can’t be all bad. My favourite was ‘Sporty Spice’ and as I’ve always been quite “girly” really, it probably helped make me who I am today – happy to be “girly” but uncomfortable with stereotypes and equally happy to challenge the idea that my gender stops me from doing anything, for example taking up boxing, cutting my hair short, drinking lager, and being an internet nerd (stereotypically speaking again). I saw a boy drawing flowers and his older brother (or someone else who should have known better) telling him flowers were for girls and I said ‘no, everyone can draw flowers’ or something to that effect.

Forgive me if this is all a bit slap-dash, I read the book a while back now and made notes in my phone and am writing this very sporadically and trying to make sense of notes. At the moment I’m trying to work out what ‘pc words, bitching hmm, underwear, nt all about men’ means. Okay, I have now found the point in the book about political correctness. Personally, the whole thing irritates me; the fact that people need others to tell them about what is right and wrong. And Moran states that ‘people keep using the phrase without really knowing what it means’ (p. 84). This is true, but more so, that people hear the word feminist, and misjudge what it means.

She moves on to the topic of bitching. I find this difficult because I believe that bitching is not nice, and that as a human being, and not ‘as a woman’ I believe niceness is underrated. However, I am now reading Odd Girl Out by Rachel Simmons which is largely about how women are expected to be nice and these expectations lead to alternative aggressions, which are usually psychologically damaging, as opposed to physically damaging. This whole area is complicated, as there is a difference between letting off steam, and bitching, which is the intention to hurt someone. And I believe that the whole idea of setting women up again other women is very dangerous. I know women who have been scornful towards women, and I find that shocking and unpleasant. Women need to be supportive of one another and inspire each other, because men are already in competition with us on an uneven pegging field. Plus, Moran’s whole ‘being polite’ (p. 87) is kind of contradictory when you take into account the acceptance of bitching.

I found the part about over-eating interesting (p. 117). I know I’m mostly healthy but I think maybe I could be healthier (okay, and that would correlate with being a tiny bit slimmer) and this is mainly due to the fact I eat too much. I can be sensible in the day, and count my fruit and veg and water intake, but when evening comes it goes downhill – if I am not eating a 2-person portion and having a compulsory chocolate-based dessert, then I would be piling on the pounds with alcohol. Perhaps this is why I am able to talk about how much I ate in the same humorous way Moran describes a shepherd’s pie indulgence; because I am only fat in model terms. I remember when I did feel I was overweight, which was likely just a bit of teenage puppy fat, and I would never tell anyone how fat I felt, because ‘the only people who aren’t talking about it are the only people whose business it really is’ (p.118).

I find it hard to pinpoint where I have encountered sexism because I feel it is so engrained in society, and throughout my childhood it has been somewhat acceptable. When I hit puberty, I didn’t even know that men’s making me feel uncomfortable by “cat-calling” was a feminist issue, it just seemed it was another part of life you couldn’t control.

Relationships and the subject of love are also complex because of the different areas that come up; it can seem like a power struggle when there really shouldn’t be one. From monetary matters to those of sexual behaviour, to the idea of adhering to ‘rules’; women’s relations with men are bound up in these issues.

Another subject matter I find interesting is that of performing as a pole dancer or burlesque act. As I have performed a few times as a pole dancer and I have watched a couple of burlesque shows, I know there is a fine line between the seedy strip bars, and the more artistic performances. Moran states her ‘rule of thumb’ is as to whether gay men flock there because ‘they are up for glitter, filth and fun – rather than a factory-farm wank-trigger’ (p. 176) which makes sense but is a hardly scientific measurement. It is also about the intentions of the viewer. I have performed my pole routine in front of a large audience at a talent show, and although the judges tried to remain unfazed, there were still innuendo comments about male students’ responses. This made me uncomfortable as it was about strength and confidence, and the creativity behind the dance, rather than anything sexual or seedy. I have an idea for an event, at this stage (being in my head) called ‘Poetry and Poles’, whereby pole dancers can perform beautiful routines alongside poetry in a space other than trashy clubs and bars. In the same vein as pornography, women should be free to choose these paths, but without the derogatory and demeaning contexts.

The section on marriage is another good one. When I was at secondary school, and had no contact with the opposite text other than teachers and family, I thought marriage wasn’t for me and that I would be a “career woman”. Although my aspirations for a successful career have not changes, these things some call maternal instincts have kicked in and I have recently found myself wanting a family. Not now, but, at some point, probably from the age of 25 (although this is not something anyone ever has a choice about, obviously).

The religious reasons for marriage would not be my reasoning, but I would like a celebration of love and unity. I find the cost of weddings horrendous and I would want to keep my as cheap as possible, going for an understated but beautiful ceremony, with practical presents. I do also like the idea of a fun hen night with my girl friends, the honeymoon; the whole shebang. In terms of guests, I can’t stand massive family gatherings where I find out I have relations I didn’t know existed, or don’t remember what they look like; I’d want close friends and family only to avoid this awkwardness. After years of shaky birthday plans, I can understand the huge pressure the day would have to be ‘the best day of your life’ (p. 182) which is why it would need to be a simple and small as possible. Moran reiterates this by stating ‘the quickest and easiest way to kill the fun good-times is to put a massive pressure of expectation on it in advance’ (p.193). I also wouldn’t want to change my name. I do that thing when I’m with a guy I like, try out their surname, and it never sounds right, not that I would have the intention to do it. I would like to include it in some way, but who knows how, my name is long enough already!

Next up, fashion. Again, the fashion industry is flawed, with all the horrible size-zero malarkey. But, blame the Barbies, whatever, I do love a bit of fashion. I’m not a great follower but I think it’s easy enough to keep up to date just by shopping, as I don’t just blindly follow and like to pick and choose what I like. Starting with shoes, I tend to wear the same ones and am a massive fan of the mini-heel. The last attempt to wear this great pair of platform black heels ended up with me (amongst all of my friends) changing back to a lower heel five minutes later. People tend to associate shoes with me and buy me presents connected to them, and I have always enjoyed drawing them in art classes. I think their just beautiful objects and by owning different shoes, I can beautiful myself. Though never wearing nice heels defeats the purpose somewhat!

In terms of handbags, I am a big fan of Chanel handbags. The only problem is, I can’t afford them. Therefore, I try and get the nearest possible high street version – the best being from Marc B (at Topshop). However, I use bags to death, and like my favourite shoes, I tend to hold on to old scrappy items. As for clothes, I frequently encounter the ‘I have nothing to wear’ (p. 211) problem, despite my bulging wardrobe. I still look at clothes and want them (to the extent that it is too painful to look at clothes because I know I can’t buy any). On a more serious note, I find the idea that ‘a woman is still to blame for being raped if she dresses ‘provocatively’’ (p. 209) disgusting, and that is why I support things like the Slut Walk.

Moran states two cases for having children, and not having children. As I state previously, I used to not want children, but now I would like children when the time is right. I think it is a personal decision, and that’s why the argument about an over-populated world being a positive about abortion exists solely as a comfort for those having an abortion (i.e. not the other way around). On the topic of abortion, I am pro-choice but it is never something which I would personally do, because it is a personal matter. For myself, I know my parents could have aborted me but they didn’t, and although it was hard work, having children is never going to be easy and always involves sacrifices. There are all sorts of complex reasons for a woman having an abortion, and I have friends that have had abortions. If I think more deeply, I would consider having an abortion if there were tests for a life-shattering disability because I believe the child would not lead a pleasurable life, and I would not want to be a carer of a child with such an upsetting disability.

The points I don’t completely agree with are as follows. Firstly, there is the idea of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ abortions (p. 272). Although I agree with the basic idea of it, in that one should not be judged for their actions, regardless of the reasoning, I disagree with the ‘repeated abortions, late-term abortions, abortions after IVF’ (p. 272). In regard to repeated abortions, if an abortion becomes a regular occurrence (common amongst teenagers) then this is an education issue and that person needs to take responsibility for their actions and take precautions in future, or they are not learning from their mistakes. Late-term abortions, I can have some sympathy for, because this decision is extremely difficult, and at times you may not even know you’re pregnant until very late, but this is also very dangerous. For example, the experience Tracey Emin has described, which was through no fault of her own, sounds devastating. As for abortions after IVF, I don’t understand why anyone would do that, unless there were other factors. Secondly, I find it unusual that the grief and guilt ‘never arrives’ (p. 283) for Moran, post-abortion, as I think any human would be emotionally changed afterwards, and someone I was friends with had an unemotional reaction and it just strikes me as cold and strange, but, that said, a woman is perfectly able to be so. I can’t help but think there would be some underlying emotions that are not being dealt with, even if it was due to outside opinion.

Overall, the book does the job it intended and has friends of mine who once wouldn’t have called themselves a feminist, doing just that and it makes me so happy. If this book can do that to a mass audience then it will do a world of good. One large point that it does not tackle is the issues of the wider world, as there are countries where women face horrific injustices. But, we do have to start somewhere.

Tooting is the Epicentre of the Universe

The other day I went to an event held by the poetry collective Dirty Hands, in Tooting of all places! I grew up in Tooting… well, slap bang in the middle of Tooting and Earlsfield.  I walked down my old street (Garratt Lane) for a trip down memory lane.  There was a new place called Mel’s Cafe Bar which said something about “vintage beats” and looked quite cool!

Although it was a bit strange to see Amy Acre and Keith Jarrett performing in the middle of Tooting market, it was lovely, and is a really positive thing.  Much as I love East London, as I don’t live there (who actually does?!) it can be annoying having to trek there for anything creative and unique.  Tooting is moving up in the world.  And I want this badge really bad, because it says “Tooting is the Epicentre of the Universe’ and it reminds me of my childhood home.  It’s nice to have that because my parents moved the year before I went to uni, and then I went to living in two places (i.e. my Norwich house) and I can’t complain, but it’s just not the same as your childhood home.

I was with my friend Chi-Chi, and we then went to Wimbledon because Tooting isn’t posh enough to have Waterstones or The Body Shop and I needed to buy my mum’s birthday present.  I got her the cocoa butter she loves, and they gave a discount so even got an extra thing free and the whole lot was cheaper.  I also got her some clear nail varnish and a book token.

I got the NME for the first time in aaaaaaaaages!  I haven’t bought magazines in years.  I’ve been quite excited that it came out so recently and on Tuesday there’s a playlist of a few new songs… I am so out of touch!  I flicked through and saw a bad review for Sound of Rum, which I found really upsetting.

I haven’t heard it but it’s pretty ignorant of Noel Gardner to comment about her lyrics and ‘poetry slams’ when I’m pretty sure he hasn’t got a clue.  Calling her accent ‘mockney’ is taking the piss, because that’s just her fucking accent! 

Some people don’t seem to understand that there is no such thing as just one “Londonaccent” – the beauty of the city is the different sounds you hear, the diversity of accents that creates such a range of accents that stand for the city.  It brings me back to Charlie Dupree’s poem from a couple of weeks ago that was just so fucking spot on!  It’s something that pisses me off, because I don’t fit into a rigid category of what non-London people think of as a typical London accent, I don’t know, people can’t work it out?  In Peterborough I spoke to a perfectly nice man, but it annoyed me that he said ‘you’ve lost your accent then!’ as though I had developed a Norwich accent in three years of living there!  It’s quite insulting as I have grown up in London all my life (with a brief stint in Reading, perhaps before I could talk), I’ve loved living here and am proud of where I come from. 

My accent is a product of growing up to a Northern working class mum who constantly tells me to put the T’s on the end of my words, and a middle class Londoner dad, who himself makes fun of my Gran’s loud, enthusiastic and “posh” voice.  It is a product of having grown up in South London, going to local state schools, making friends with people from a great mix of backgrounds and cultures.  It is a product of listening to the Spice Girls, and watching American imported TV (I say ‘like’ waaay too much) and having my dad play bands like Blur, Coldplay and The Beatles.  It is a product of being shy and building the confidence to project and accentuate my words.  And sometimes, it’s the product of drinking too much and getting a bit lary and slurry.  And I hate to bang on about it but it riles me up!  As I’ve stated before, a frex off mine from the “cockney” band The Ruskins makes fun of me being a ‘posh git’, yet another guy I know from the amazing band Grenouille has referred to me as ‘cockney’.  The point is – I am neither of these things… my accent is just pretty normal and not strong in either direction, so there’s no need to put me in a box!

Matt, from Grenouille also said something about a mix of strength and vulnerability.  I really liked that, cause that’s what I’m about really, and that’s why I was saying earlier about my version of feminism.  To be a feminist, you shouldn’t feel the pressure to be this perfect emblem of strength and womanhood – it’s about being yourself, whoever that may be, and finding the strength to show the world who you are, and having the support of your sisters (and feminist brothers) to grow in confidence and love for humankind.  It’s why I’m inspired by the rawness and honesty and passion of people like Brody Dalle, Courtney Love, Alanis Morissette, Kathleen Hanna… and bringing me on to my next point… Kate Nash.

I already knew most of what the NME interview told me but I thought I’d mention it.  Ironically, it was the frex I mentioned earlier that was really into Kate Nash, here’s a pic of us at her gig. 

  

I think I’m actually a bigger fan of her than him!  I loved her last album and, whilst the old one reminds me of when I went out with my friend, this second one has more positive associations for me as I can feel like it’s just for me, and I love the way she takes something negative and turns it into a message of hope… epitomized in the lyrics ‘take my life… to a higher plane’.  Anyway, I think it’s really positive what she’s doing for young girls and I wish I had someone like that when I was younger.  I’m a bit wary of writing too much about her, because I know she knows a lot of poets and if I ever bumped into her it’d be a bit cringe to come across as some major fangirl!  But, I do have a lot of respect and admiration for her.

To end this post, a sad note.  I’m listening to TV on the Radio atm.  The bassist died of cancer last Wednesday.  My dad had emailed me their new video whilst I was in Norwich so it was really shocking and I had no idea. RIP.

xxx

Lady Fest Ten

Last night I went to the Lady Fest poetry open mic event ‘So She Said’ at The Victoria in Mile End.  I went after work and grabbed a burger and wedges from Cafe 1001 (and a sneaky Carlsberg).  The features of the night were Chrissy Williams, Dzifa Benson and Liz Bentley.  Chrissy Williams I thought was okay but perhaps more of a “page” poet, given by her numerous publications of which I can only dream of being in currently.  If I remember correctly a lot of the poems involved dialogue, which I thought maybe was in order to fit in with the event title, which would have been a cool thing to do, if it was intentional.

My favourite feature was probably Dzifa Benson.  I usually find it more difficult to concentrate on the poet prior to going up myself, but I really liked her set, especially one she read about skin.  I was pleased with how my set went and the girl who went up after me (can’t remember her name, but she was good!) said she enjoyed my set.  She also told me she’d only started doing poetry readings a week or so ago!  Where have all these amazing poets come from that need like nooo practice to perform amazingly?  (Like Vanessa Kisuule, whose name I wanted to mention in my last Farrago post but am not sure if I did). I also was compared to Brigitte Aphrodite by, Nikki Shaill, one of the event organisers who approached me about contributing to the Lady Fest Zine.  I was really surprised by the comparison, but I don’t know maybe it’s the inflection in the voice when performing, expression of emotion or something.  I don’t have music in my act (yet!) but if I were to sum up Brigitte’s act, I would describe it as of the cockney music hall variety.  Maybe it was ’cause I was with my cockney-East-end-born&bred friend, Elliot Snook (soon to be happy-hardcore music producer, so he tells me).  I told my mum this and she said I sound “more cockney” when I read my poetry.  My own mother!  I was not impressed, I shall have to “get my posh on” in future, all these comparisons unnerve me; flattering as they are, as my friends are saying a lot these days ‘I love it, but it kinda makes me sick’.  I guess it’s because I like these people, but see myself as very different to them in so many ways… I guess I’ve always felt I can’t be put in a box (although I LOVE quizzes, you know the ones that try to put you in boxes).

OMG!  Two embarrassing things happened to me related to this night as well:

1.   I was on the tube and decided to watch the recording of my performance with my Ipod in, to see how long I was on for (which I found out after you can see without doing that).  My camera’s at the repair shop, so I was borrowing my mum’s, so I also didn’t know that you could hear SOUND when you play it back (mine doesn’t do that).  I even took my earphones out to check but didn’t seem to hear anything, but my mum told me you could after. So yeah, embarrassing!  Especially as there was someone who performed there on the tube near me probably thinking what a weirdo loser I was!

2.  My parents had their couple friends round for food and drinks, and I went to bed, leaving the camera with my mum as she wanted to take pictures.  She told me the next day how great their friends thought my performance was (and compared me to Kate Nash, grrr – see above).  I was soooo embarrassed!  Mainly the content of my poems.  I’ve performed in front of my parents before but carefully picked my poems!  Poems about body hair and ex-boyfriends would not be top of the list!  Argh! and I haven’t heard it myself yet, hopefully will be able to upload it tonight though!

Anyway, back to the event!  Liz Bentley was the last feature and I was enjoying her performance and laughed at her reference to Rachel Pantechnicon, feeling a bit pleased with myself that I got it.  So I enjoyed it, despite my personal aversion to people with her first name, UNTIL she did a poem about hating her sister and asked people in the audience to answer whether they hated their siblings.  Elliot said he loved his, and he exclaimed “she’s only two!”  Liz then engaged in banter, trying to amuse the audience by making out he was “weird” for loving his sister.  I felt a wave of embarrassment come over me, like that feeling when you forget lines and everyone is looking at you.  Aware it wasn’t me that should feel awkward, I told Elliot ‘I want the world to swallow you up’.  I just thought it was an underhand thing to say, as he wasn’t heckling and I found it inappropriate and basically rude.  *Sigh* Disappointing.

The next So She Said event is 7th September and I’ll hopefully be going along again.

xxx