Now We Are 28: On Feminism and Being Angry

Less than two weeks ago a man who hated women killed six people. Every single day since then I have seen a man on the internet telling people (normally women) that misogyny doesn't exist. Every. Single. Day.

Three weeks ago I went to a work conference and spent an evening explaining to a bunch of otherwise lovely and very clever people why feminism is important and relevant in the 21st Century.

I would love for the battle to achieve equal rights for women to be over, I really would. When I was a child I read about the suffragettes, women's battles for the vote and the fight for equal pay and I really thought that the war had been won, that women were considered equal. Then I grew up. 

In school, the girls were always judged on their appearance - I was considered "ugly" so I always came in for particularly nasty bullying both in school and out. As I got older my friends and I considered it par for the course that we would get felt up without our consent in pubs and clubs. When I waitressed the chefs physically and verbally harassed every woman who came into the kitchen. A senior male colleague once thought it appropriate to complain to my manager about my "very short" skirt (it was knee-length) and told me that laughing at things was inappropriate because I sounded like a giggling schoolgirl. The (male) sales assistant who sold me my new, painstakingly chosen bike spent all his time talking to my boyfriend. The other week a man cycled behind me for over a mile so he could look at my bum. And, like virtually every woman I know, I've been shouted at in the street by random men more times than I can count. 

You know what the worst thing about that list is? That I feel lucky to have got off so lightly. That I am extremely privileged to experience society as a middle-class, thin, able-bodied straight, cis, white woman and thus will never have to endure the hardships that many women face just trying to exist as equal members of society. Most women will endure far worse verbal, physical or sexual abuse than I have ever encountered and this will be accepted by the world. Their experiences will be dismissed or ignored or never even shared. And when a man kills a woman it will be considered an "isolated incident" or the work of a "lone madman" rather than the product of a society which is profoundly unequal. 

I am so angry. I get more angry every day as I see women's concerns about ingrained sexism, rape culture and violence against women being dismissed and belittled. I'm angry that young women today grow up in a world where their right to equality is less understood than it was twenty years ago. I'm angry that women continue to be defined by whether or not they've popped out a baby but at the same time they're likely to get discriminated against because of it. I'm angry that young men continue to be taught that expressing their emotions is weakness and that hurting others is strength.

I have no idea how we fix this. I grew up believing that women were equal because they'd fought and won so many battles. Now I struggle to believe that genuine equality will be achieved in my lifetime. So yes, feminism matters. 

Now We Are 28: On Beauty and Bravery

This week on the internet women taking pictures of themselves without makeup on has been a bit of a thing. It's supposedly in aid of cancer awareness and the associated donations have raised more than £2 million for Cancer Research UK. Millions of pounds in under a week from one-off donations and goodness knows how much more over the long term from people deciding to commit to regular donations to combat a disease which kills people indiscriminately and whose cure often leaves people maimed and forever changed is pretty incredible. So surely an internet campaign that not only raises awareness of cancer but also funding for research into a cure for cancer is good, right?

Apparently not... I've seen a significant amount of criticism of the campaign for various reasons: people taking photographs without donating, which to a certain extent is fair enough, although given the outcome I can't see how this is a legitimate complaint; and the word "brave" being applied to both bare-faced women and cancer sufferers. Taking a photograph of yourself without cosmetic enhancement is seen somehow as a fluffy, ethereal thing and not worthy of sharing an adjective with people suffering from a life-threatening disease. Whilst I agree that taking a photograph and fighting cancer are clearly not the same thing I really object to the belittlement of people making a genuine gesture for a cause they believe in - particularly in light of the outcome. 

The undertone to a lot of the criticism I've seen is also extremely patronising - silly little girls thinking they are brave for putting a photograph of their naked face on the internet, they obviously don't understand what it means to be really brave. However, for a huge number of women in our hyper-sexualised, image obsessed society, going without makeup or appearing in any way less than "perfect" is a genuinely courageous thing to do. Standing up and saying "here I am, with all my flaws and imperfections naked to the world" is a very hard thing for women to do because we are told constantly that being ourselves is just not good enough. As women we are constantly told we need to be thinner, curvier, prettier, fitter, quieter, happier, sexier, more natural, less demanding, more demanding and so on, ad infinitum. To challenge that in any way, however minor, is an act of defiance. It doesn't make cancer sufferers any less brave, it simply demonstrates a willingness to challenge yourself in support of a greater cause.

Now We Are 28: On Nationalism

I'm not a big fan of rampant nationalism or of nationalist politics. The Nigel Farages and Alex Salmonds of this world, with their clarion cries about the greatness of the nation-state, leave me cold. Nationalism values people because of where they come from rather than who they are or who they might become which is pretty much anathema to everything I believe in.

You see, in the words of Scroobius Pip, I'm from a little place called Great Britain but I don't know if I love or hate Britain. There are lots of things that make being British wonderful - incredible landscapes; the national obsession with tea; the amazing diversity of our language and culture; the prevalence of social liberalism; our rich sweep of history; and Doctor Who to name but a few. But then there are lots of things that make Britain absolutely awful - our political system; ingrained sexism; casual racism; the M6; the bloody weather; the ability of the England cricket team to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory; flags on cars during football tournaments; the Daily Mail; the EDL... You get the idea. There are days I love living in the UK and days I loathe it but I'd never really say I'm proud of being British. How can you be proud of something that's an accident of fate? It's like saying I'm proud of having green eyes - I had absolutely no say in the matter!

People are though, aren't they? Proud of their little strip of land, of their English (or Welsh or Scottish or Irish) descent and scathing about anyone who isn't from these shores. Given that the UK is essentially an island of incomers this always seems to me a rather hypocritical position to take but whatever. I don't get it, how does love for one's country become hatred for other countries and other people? Surely you can have affection for the place you were born or where you live without using your nationality as a weapon to oppress others? And if your strip of land is that great why don't you want to share it with people and attract people from all over the world who can add to it's greatness? After all, this island would be pretty empty if it weren't for immigrants...

Now We Are 28: On Writer's Block

I'm really struggling with blogging at the moment and I have been for a while. The reason I started this "Now We Are 28" thread was as a way of getting back into writing, something I have always loved doing, but I've struggled so much more than I thought I would. I either have nothing to say or no confidence in what I'm writing which is weird considering I never bloody shut up and consider writing one of my core skills. 

So why am I feeling like this? For a start I'm definitely out of the habit of writing anything. I used to spend a lot of time writing both personally and professionally - I did a history degree for goodness sake, if I wasn't reading some mouldy old tome I was writing about why I agreed or disagreed with the author of said mouldy old tome. I was also a very angsty teenager (and twenty-something) with a penchant for keeping diaries chronicling my dating disasters and emotional dilemmas. Nowadays I have a job that seldom requires me to write anything original and virtually zero emotional angst. Does that mean I have nothing to say? Well obviously not, as anyone who's ever got me drunk and asked me about politics or feminism or The Smiths or people's attitudes to cyclists (and so on) will attest. Do I write this stuff down? Not really. Why not? Um... 

Often I have my best thoughts when I'm out walking the dog or cycling to work and so when I come to try and write them down my ideas seem to vanish like smoke. I'm not writing to any purpose, I don't have any particular desire to have my blog read by thousands of people or to become a Guardian columnist. I just want to occasionally empty my head of the thoughts which buzz around in there. So why do I struggle to commit words to (virtual) paper so much? Partly I think because I'm my own worst critic - I have about ten half written posts for this blog that I've dismissed as too boring, too personal or too ranty. These days everyone writes and there's always a little voice at the back of my mind that asks "what's the point? What have you got to add?" 

I don't know the answer to that question. But maybe I don't have to add anything, maybe I can just write for my own reasons. I've never known how to silence that voice in my head that tells me I'm not good enough but maybe it's time to learn how.

Now We Are 28: The Day Job

I was never the sort of person who had their career planned out - my standard line to careers advisors and my parents was that I wanted to be a barrister but, when faced with the reality of what exactly that entailed, I soon realised it wasn't the career for me. To be completely honest until I was 21 I'd never really thought past graduating from university and it took me a while to work out what I was going to do for, if not the rest of my life, at least the foreseeable future.

Like most people I almost fell into my career by accident but once I started working in Higher Education it didn't take me long to work out that it was where I wanted to stay. I'm not a teacher or a researcher - that PhD application remains on my to-do list - but I've never been very good at talking about what I actually do for a living. Even the boy doesn't really understand my job and the standard response I get from people when I tell them my job title (Knowledge Exchange Officer) is "oh well that's a bit meaningless". It's no more meaningless than most job titles but people tend to get bored by explanations which take more than a couple of words...

Knowledge exchange is the term that's currently in vogue for the higher education "third mission" - essentially the huge amount of business engagement and economic development activity undertaken by UK universities. It covers a huge range of activity and so people who work in knowledge exchange tend to have a bewildering array of job titles - business development officers, research development managers, corporate partnership executives, the list goes on. Since I got involved in this area of higher education my day job has been anything but routine - in any given week I can be involved in planning or delivering an event, costing a research proposal, developing a relationship with an external organisation, writing marketing materials, undertaking market research, attending a conference, writing a policy briefing... Well you get the idea - my job is varied! 

There's a huge lack of understanding about how important universities are for this country - not just for the students they teach or the research they undertake but also for the contribution they make to the economy. The recent Witty Review clearly recognised, perhaps for the first time, the vital role universities play in economic growth. Universities provide employment true but they also provide support, mentoring and funding for thousands of small businesses each year. Major investments by large businesses in the UK are almost always as a result of a partnership with one or more universities - and they aren't always the ones you expect. Post-92 universities, the often sneered at ex-polytechnics, are just as vital to the UK's businesses as the Russell Group - when it comes to business engagement universities such as Coventry and Hertfordshire are up there with Oxford and Cambridge. 

The debate about UK higher education is too often framed in terms of student fees or world class research but there is far more to the story. Since 2001 successive governments have invested a relatively small amount of money (£150 million pounds per academic year) in pump-priming knowledge exchange activities through the Higher Education Innovation Fund. This funding has an estimated return on investment of £6 generated for every £1 spent. In addition, myself and thousands of other knowledge exchange professionals work hand-in-hand with our academic colleagues to ensure that the incredible knowledge base the UK's universities possess in both blue-sky and applied research is a resource that is accessible to the whole of the UK economy. 

When I graduated I had no idea what I was going to do with my life so no-one is more astounded than me that seven years later I actually seem to have a career. I've been incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to work in two amazing universities with some wonderful people and to make a difference, in some small way. I'm passionate not only about what I do but also about the value of the third mission in higher education. Whilst I don't expect everyone to share that enthusiasm, it is important to recognise the value of our country's diverse, vibrant and economically-engaged university sector. 

Now We Are 28: On Remembrance

Remembrance Day seems to be increasingly controversial - there's been lots of debate this year over the wearing of poppies and the upcoming centenary of the outbreak of the First World War. The wearing of poppies becomes more and more of a fraught issue every year - does their ubiquity take away their meaningfulness, should the BBC insist on people wearing them, is it hypocritical for politicians who have sent troops to war to wear them?

I have stood in the battlefields of Northern France, now so still and peaceful, bearing few signs of the slaughter that took place there nearly a century ago. As a fourteen-year old to stand in the Commonwealth War Graves was one of the most profound and sobering experiences of my life - particularly when I saw the grave of a boy my own age. That experience is why Remembrance Sunday is important to me - the first hand understanding I gained of all those who died so that I could be free is one of the most significant things I have ever learnt. It is why I buy a poppy and watch the Remembrance Ceremony at the Cenotaph whenever possible - not because I feel I have to but because, to me, it is important.

The First World War was a mess, a pointless war caused by rampant imperialism, but that does not mean we should ignore or make less of the sacrifices a generation of men and women made as part of that conflict. The Second World War was perhaps a more just war but I have always questioned whether, without the First World War, Hitler would have had either the motivation or the opportunity to rise to power in 1930s Germany. Rampant nationalism and the need to protect one's perceived interests at home or abroad have caused wars beyond counting throughout human history - the so-called "war to end all wars" was nothing of the sort. War is futile, it solves nothing and almost always promotes further conflict and instability.

Condemn war all you want but don't condemn those who remember, however they choose to do so. Wearing a poppy isn't just a visible symbol of commemoration but an opportunity to support a very worthwhile charity, The Royal British Legion. Equally, however, the wearing of a poppy should never be something that we compel - gestures of this kind ought to come from the heart not as part of a PR campaign. Wearing a poppy, observing a Remembrance Sunday silence or laying a wreath at a war memorial aren't acts that rejoice in war or of national pride - they are a reflection of shared grief, dulled but not lessened by the passage of time.

As the First World War and Second World Wars become history rather than memory it is more important than ever not only to remember but to understand these conflicts in the hope that one day we might move beyond military force and the death of countless human beings as a way of resolving our differences. The saying "those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" is as true today is it ever was.

"In Flanders fields the poppies blow

      Between the crosses, row on row,

   That mark our place; and in the sky

   The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

   Loved and were loved, and now we lie

         In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

   The torch; be yours to hold it high.

   If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

         In Flanders fields."

                                            John McCrae

Now We Are 28: A Sense of Belonging

Last weekend marked the ten year anniversary of my first week at Durham University and thus it is also ten years since I left home for the first time. In the intervening decade I've lived in five different cities, six houses, seven flats, and packed my entire life into boxes at least 15 times. I still live more than 100 miles from my entire family, most of my friends and the town I grew up in.

Much in the same way as I love the feeling of travelling I love the possibilities of living somewhere new but I don't think I've ever felt I "belonged" somewhere as much as I did when I first moved to Durham. I was terrified when we first arrived of course, for some reason I spent most of the journey panicking that I would be ostracised for bringing too much stuff with me (I needn't have worried) and that I wouldn't make any friends (ditto). But within two weeks, once I'd survived fresher's flu and navigated a nightmarish train journey back to Wales, I felt more at home in Durham than I'd ever felt anywhere in my life. This wasn't an indictment on my much-loved family and friends, just a reflection on how much of a fish out of water I'd been. Leaving Durham three years later was one of the most difficult things I've ever done - and remains so, seven years of difficult decisions later.

By now, almost everyone I know is pretty settled - most people seem to pick a place and stay put, whether by birth or by choice. That happened pretty quickly with a lot of my friends - people dispersed to various locations once we left university and then seem to have remained there. People often look at me strangely when I talk about moving around the country or when I happily travel 100 miles for a night out with friends. It's odd because I don't consider myself particularly well travelled. The wanderlust is unintentional, I like to arrive at new places but I also like to leave - if you've ever met my dog Roscoe you'll know he is also very much of this persuasion! 

So, true to form the latest move - to Nottingham, a mere four months ago - was decided pretty much on the spur of the moment, I'd been offered a job and the boy had been made redundant so we thought we'd try a change of scenery. Unexpectedly it was a bigger adjustment than I'd been expecting, somehow I'd become settled whilst I wasn't looking. The job I left behind was one I loved and only left because it was made very clear to me that, however hard I worked and whatever additional responsibilities I took on, I'd never be able to earn a promotion. Actually leaving was heartbreaking but after months of frustration it was the only choice. Similarly, I cried the day we left our little house in Leamington - it may have been too small and possessed of an extremely irritating landlord but it was the boy and my first home together. For someone who claims to thrive on change all of this upheaval was harder to deal with than I remembered... 

I feel like I belong everywhere and nowhere all at once - home is where my boyfriend and my dog are, where my family are, where my friends are. I could be happy anywhere - a big city, a small town, the side of a mountain - which is a blessing in many ways. At the same time part of me wants to find a place where I can put down roots, knowing that I'm not going to have to pack my life into boxes and deconstruct all my bookcases yet again.  Is that part of getting older or will I still get the urge to gallivant around the country when I'm 60? 

Now We Are 28: On Travelling

I've always enjoyed travelling, no matter whether I'm going somewhere for the first time or the hundredth, somehow the feeling of being somewhere different never fails to thrill me. I wouldn't describe myself as well travelled but it's always an epithet I've wanted to earn. My ultimate aspiration is to be an old woman with a house full of souvenirs from around the world and a head full of interesting stories. 

This week I went to a conference in Geneva and consequently have mostly been on aeroplanes, in queues and trying to recall enough A-level French to order dinner without making a complete fool of myself. I also got to see the Alps gleaming white in the sunshine, a view I've wanted to see in person since I was a little girl looking at the photograph on my Aunty Ann's wall. It was that snatched ten minutes of beautiful scenery as my plane was leaving Geneva that made four very long and tiring days completely worthwhile.

It's these snapshots of perfection that stand out in my memory when I think of my favourite travel experiences - a breathtaking Swiss mountain range, a sun dappled Grecian sea, a real life Viking long boat, a medieval cathedral soaring to the heavens. These are the times when I want to pack up my belongings and just start wandering, the way I do when I'm in a strange city with time to kill and no aim other than exploration. There's few things that compare to the wonder I feel when I'm somewhere new and every corner turned is an adventure, a completely new window on the world. 

You gain new perspective when you travel, about how much people are different and how much we are all exactly the same. It always amazes me how some stereotypes hold true - I have never seen so many watchmakers, chocolatiers and adverts for investment banks in all my life as I did during four days in Switzerland! The other thing that never fails to surprise me is how global a language English is, everywhere I've ever been people speak at least some English.  It seems unspeakably arrogant to travel to another country and expect them to speak your language rather than theirs and I always feel ashamed for my lack of facility with almost every language other than my own, particularly as the dominance of English is perhaps little more than an accident of history.

More than anything else going somewhere different reinforces my desire to travel more and to see as many new and exciting places as I can. Procrastination has always been a major talent of mine but as I get older I start to wonder what my excuse really is? Sitting at home looking at pictures on the internet or making imaginary travel plans seems trivial when I could be actually going and seeing the world. After all, to become well-travelled you actually have to go places...

Now We Are 28: On Cycling

I wasn't quite sure where to start with this project however I've had one particular piece in my head for a while. As anyone who follows me on Twitter might be aware since we moved to Nottingham in May I've taken up cycling to work. This is primarily because the traffic in Nottingham is abysmal - it can take up to an hour and a half to drive the nine miles from my house to where I work! But it's also been a good way of keeping fit and not spending too much of my already overcommitted salary on bus fares...

I'm a reasonably fit person so cycling 18 or so miles in a day wasn't too much of a shock to the system. The first time I made the journey however I stubbornly insisted on taking my ancient, very heavy mountain bike which meant I arrived home half dead. My boyfriend then insisted I take his much lighter and very swanky road bike which has significantly improved both the experience and my time - I can do the journey in about 50 minutes now. I'm not particularly an expert cyclist but I can see a distinct improvement in my stamina as well as in my leg muscles!

I haven't cycled very much since I was a teenager and I've got a lot more cautious since I was last on a bike, probably because I've spent so much time as a driver over the past five years. I understand how fast traffic moves and how little drivers seem to pay attention, even to other cars, let alone to breakable things like cyclists and pedestrians. I was, therefore, unenthusiastic about the prospect of entangling myself with rush hour traffic with nothing but a helmet, spiky pedals and some borrowed Lycra to protect myself. Luckily Nottingham is a really cycle-friendly place and there's a National Cycle Network route which runs virtually from my house to where I work which keeps me off the main roads.

One of the things about this whole cycling experience that has really surprised me is the rudeness of other cyclists. Whilst I'm not a particularly committed cyclist I have a lot of friends who are - both in real life and through twitter - and they are some of the nicest people I know. I was therefore expecting more in the way of camaraderie from the many other cyclists I've encountered on my travels but honestly apart from a slightly pervy man saying hello and a couple of awkward conversations whilst locking my bike up at work the solidarity has been non-existent. In fact I've come closer to being knocked off my bike by other cyclists than I ever have by a car, particularly of note was the man who cycled through a red light at a pedestrian crossing last week and nearly sent me flying.

The other unexpected aspect of cycling, particularly on the route I take which is at least 50% on the pavement, has been the ignorance of pedestrians. I like to think I'm a pretty considerate and patient person but cycling has tested this quite severely! I just do not understand why, when a cycle route is clearly marked, a person would choose to walk down the middle of it and then glare angrily at any cyclist who dares to try and use the cycle path. Also, now the schools have started back, I spend most of my morning commute facing down the mouthy teenagers who wander aimlessly about the pavement. Irksome...

I've been almost pleasantly surprised that no-one in a car has yet made a serious attempt to run me over - I was really expecting to have to spend a lot more time avoiding bad drivers. There are still plenty of people who drive a bit too close but I've not really had any close calls. I think being a driver makes me a more aware cyclist, I'm used to having to anticipate potentially dangerous situations well in advance - something which is much more important as a vulnerable cyclist. I'd also like to think being a cyclist has improved my driving, at least in terms of being aware of other road users.

I'd be interested to hear other people's experiences of "urban" cycling - is the lack of sympathy for your fellow cyclist a problem particular to Nottingham?!

Now We Are (Nearly) 28: On Blogging

It's that time of year again - my birthday is fast approaching, I'm making a slightly ham-fisted effort at arranging several celebrations and thinking about what I want to achieve in the next year that I've thus failed to do in 28 years on this planet... This year, not for the first time, I've fixed on trying to keep up my blog

I've got a patchy track-record with blogging, at least personally, although I have managed to blog fairly consistently for various work projects. I have always loved writing and I do enjoy blogging - it's just often when I have the time I don't have the inspiration and vice-versa. I'm also quite lazy and prefer to spend my free evenings watching Grey's Anatomy boxsets rather than doing something that could be classed as at least half-way productive. The last time I really did any consistent writing was when I was at university which is now nearly a decade ago (gulp). I've always planned to do further qualifications but I'm starting to realise that I'll need to do something in the interim to maintain my few skills. 

My primary aim for this project is to brush up my writing so I'll be talking about anything and everything that pops into my head. The goal is at least one post per week - but there may be more if I get particularly inspired. This introduction is a little bit self-indulgent but hey, it's my blog - I'll be meta if I want to be! 

School Reunion

A few weeks ago someone posted an old school photograph on facebook. I looked at it briefly, showed Andy my terrible haircut and went off and did something else. In the meantime the photograph of me got tagged as someone else (!) and everyone I went to school with crawled out of the woodwork to reminisce about how wonderful school was and how we should have a reunion. 

I've found a number of things about this whole situation utterly baffling, the first being how many children my former classmates have accumulated between them! This shouldn't be a surprise given that at least one girl in my year was pregnant before we took our GCSEs but somehow it is. 

The second thing that confounded me was the amount of nostalgia for high school. I'm the first one to stand up and say I loathed almost every minute of my time there but I cannot believe that none of these people have done anything more enjoyable with their lives in the past twelve years. That bunking off school, bullying anyone who looked at you the wrong way and possessing a vastly inflated sense of your own importance for a few years over a decade is actually all some people can pinpoint as the high point of nearly three decades on this planet. I'm not claiming my life is any kind of glittering trail of achievements but everything I'm proud of I achieved once I left school...

The final thing was how irrelevant my school days now seem to me. It used to be a big deal that I hated school but as I've got older I realised that most people had a horrific high school experience. I literally never think about it these days, there are no repressed memories - it just has absolutely no relevance to my life. 

Feminism's New Entry Policy

This blog post has been brewing for a while - ever since the Guardian published an article on Tory feminism several weeks ago in fact - and I discovered the hitherto little known "fact" that you could only be a feminist if you hated the Conservative Party.

I've described myself as a feminist from a very early age. I remember reading about the suffragette movement whilst I was still in primary school and being shocked that women hadn't always been allowed to do the same things as men. Equality has always been one of the most important principles in my life - and not just for women - I believe passionately that all human beings are equal regardless of race, sex, sexuality, religion or any other descriminating factor that anyone cares to think of. All feminism has ever been for me is the belief that women are equal to anyone and anything. 

However, according to people like Suzanne Moore, the fact that I voted for David Cameron negates my right to believe this. Because Margaret Thatcher wasn't a feminist, because the Conservative Party have on occasion acted like the the worst kind of right wing dinosaurs you can only be a feminist if you are "left-wing" (I put left wing in inverted commas here because there is no mainstream political party in the UK whose policies are remotely left of centre). Why? Why in 2012 when no major political figure would deny female equality or the power of the feminist movement can I as a feminist not make a decision to support a political party based on my own beliefs and priorities? In 2015 I may well vote for a different political party (hell, I may even set up my own political party to avoid the dilemma of having to vote for any of the uninspiring choices currently on offer) but in 2010 I voted for the Conservative Party (the reasons for which are explained here). I am technically a Conservative Feminist and thus cannot possibly exist.

So again I'm back to the question of why? Surely it's a good thing that women are represented across the political spectrum and are fighting in different ways for issues important to them! I don't particularly like Louise Mensch or Nadine Dorries but I can't deny that they stand up and fight for the issues which they feel are important. I may fundamentally disagree with Dorries' stance on abortion but hell I fundamentally disagree with every word which comes out of Laurie Penny's mouth as well - and I deny neither of them the right to be a feminist. I may not like the way they do it - dictate what I can do with my uterus or what type of cake I am allowed to eat at your peril - but the most important thing is that they are women standing up and being counted.

So my message to the sisterhood is pretty much just this: respect my right to say and be something, even if you don't like what I'm saying or what I represent. Women aren't all the same, just as all human beings aren't the same. If you don't like my stance on something politically challenge me, I'll debate anything with anyone - I have even been known to change my opinion if given a decent enough reason to do so.  But never ever deny my right to call myself a feminist because of what political party I support.

Caitlin Moran manages to sum up what I'm trying to say far more eloquently than I'm ever going to be able to:

"The purpose of feminism isn't to make a particular type of woman. The idea that there are inherently wrong and inherently right 'types' of women is what's screwed feminism for so long... What is feminism? Simply the belief that women should be as free as men, however nuts, dim, deluded, badly dressed, fat, receding, lazy and smug they might be."

(Seriously if you haven't read How To Be A Woman yet - do it! Even if you're a man, it's fine...)

Thoughts about the Riots...

So we've had three days of riots across England - mostly London-based but spreading to Birmingham and Manchester over the past few days. Things have started to calm down now but that just means people are increasingly casting around for someone to blame and to try, in a largely reactionary way, to suggest ways to deal with the aftermath. I don't have any kind of solution for this particular brand of lunacy but just wanted to get a couple of things off my chest.

Ken Livingstone yesterday referred to the rioters as protestors. Well they're not. I'm sorry but that's the long and the short of it. Protest implies you're protesting against something rather than just stealing plasma TVs and designer clothes "because it's free innit". This whole episode may have begun with a protest (against the shooting by police of Mark Duggan in Tottenham) but it seems clear that this legitimate protest was soon hijacked by those looking for trouble - as per the student protests last Autumn. I'm not saying there aren't serious underlying social issues at work behind this violence but these are long term factors created by decades of social mismanagement by politicians of all stripes. The fervid media attitude towards cuts in public spending combined with a resurgence of global economic problems has made the world feel a less secure place. In my opinion you can't say that an austerity programme less than 9 months old and only marginally more severe than the programme of cuts proposed by the previous government is a genuine factor here. Both the rhetoric and the growing reality of public expenditure cuts is a potential trigger factor but not a root cause.

It has also been suggested that abolition of the Education Maintainance Allowance caused young people to riot. Well in one way that's true. EMA is simply a symptom of a culture of entitlement that can be seen throughout society. When I was a teenager (and it's not that long ago) I had no need of EMA to encourage me to go on to further education - I knew that was what I had to do to improve my chances in life. I had supportive parents and teachers to help me on my way but I knew that to get on in life I had to help myself as well. I got my first job when I was 13 and have been lucky enough not to be out of work since. Very few of my early jobs were glamorous - I was a paper girl then a waitress - but I learnt social skills and earnt my own money long before I had any qualifications to my name. I wasn't unusual - all my friends and classmates had part-time and Saturday jobs. It was just what we did to earn the money for driving lessons, nights out and new clothes. It is tougher to find a job now than it was in 2001 but there are still hundreds of migrant workers doing the jobs that British people won't do. There's a large Polish community in the town I come from many of whom have university level qualifications but are doing relatively menial jobs because they'd rather work than be unemployed. I get the overwhelming sense that for a considerable section of British society they'd rather be unemployed/on benefits than do a job which is more menial.

So what are the answers? Well, I don't have any. My instinctive argument is in favour of a small state and a balanced budget but dogma is no use here. People make a country not politicians - surely the very essence of any kind of big society - and if the policiticians of this country continue to fail her people then things will only get worse. Austerity protects our economy in some ways, preventing massive interest rises on government borrowing and shielding us from some market forces but it makes growth more difficult especially in a time of continued global financial turmoil. If the Eurozone is falling apart and America has its credit rating lowered how can we possibly expect our economy to grow at anything like the pace required? This isn't the government's fault particularly - as a country recovering slowly from recession and with a big burden of debt there's only so much that can be done to improve matters. A fiscal stimulus like a VAT cut may well increase consumer confidence but then again it may not and runs the risk of market disapprobation.

Meanwhile what do we do about social problems? How can we teach kids to aspire to something more than a life on benefits when it's all they and their parents have ever known? How do we encourage children to get an education in order to get a great job when the costs associated with gaining a degree are spiralling and the job market is so challenging? I was lucky - my family all had jobs and my parents encouraged me to try and earn some money of my own. It was just obvious to me that I would have to work for a living and if I worked really hard then one day I would be lucky enough to do a job I really enjoyed. I wholeheartedly believe in a meritocracy but I can see how soul-destroying it must be not to have that vision, not to believe in your own ability to get on in life. To see things getting more expensive and politicians talking about tightening your belts when you and your family couldn't afford the things you needed or wanted even when the UK economy was booming. Perhaps that's why people jumped on the bandwagon of the riots. It's not an apology or an excuse but it's a reason.

So I ask again, how do we solve this? We could ask our politicians to stop becoming entrenched in the dogma that didn't win an election and work together to look at how we can be fiscally responsible and encourage growth. It's not an easy circle to square but surely if MPs stop arguing with one another and start thinking constructively they might just be able to do something productive on our behalf. At the same time we need to look at what we can do with resources other than money to encourage aspiration. If 13 years of a Labour government throwing money at every public service it could think of should have taught us anything it is that social problems can't be solved with investment alone. We need to encourage people to work together within and across communities to help kids realise that they can do anything they want - the only limit is their aspirations. We need to help people who got involved in violence over the past three days put it behind them and use this experience as a catalyst to do something useful.What this situations doesn't need is kneejerk reactions like reducing civil liberties or removing benefit. Yes the actions of those rioting, looting and in some cases killing and injuring people are deplorable but some of the reactions I've seen in the media and on twitter/facebook have been equally so - you don't solve a crisis by suggesting mass murder, you just don't. People convicted over this should feel the full force of the law, no-one should be disputing that, but it is just as important that they receive compassion, help and support to help them realise that there is more to life than a free flatscreen TV and that this country does have more to offer them than violence and poverty.

30 Day Music Challenge: Day Twenty Eight

Day 28: A Song That Makes You Feel Guilty

This is a very strange question - I presume it doesn't refer to guilty pleasures as I've already done that one! So something that makes you physically feel guilty then - interesting concept... To be honest, I don't feel guilty about a whole lot these days - it's been a long time since I've done anything that caused serious guilt. I'm not saying I'm an angel, far from it, but I do tend to behave reasonably well these days - I had my fill of inappropriate relationships a long time back and I've never much been into petty theft, drug taking or anything vaguely illegal. The nearest I get to misbehaving is the odd occasion where I drink too much but even that's increasingly rare these days - I'm getting very boring in my old age evidently!

So what does make me feel guilty? Well in a strange way - music does. I always feel like somewhat of a late starter when it comes to knowing about bands - I own a considerable amount of music and listen to even more but there is so much fabulous music out there that I'm just utterly ignorant about. It's likely I'm being too harsh on myself here - no-one can ever hope to live long enough listen to all the music that's ever been produced for a start! I can let myself off the hook for not knowing about a band but I'm also guilty of glibly saying that I love a band or an artist on the basis of one song and then never bothering to look into anything else they've done. Which sometimes is acceptable - they could only have one good song - but I do feel I should make more of an effort when it comes to knowing about music, if only to not sound like an idiot in the company of more musically geeky people.

She's Lost Control by Joy Division is a fabulous, haunting, brilliant song but the first time I heard it was whilst watching Control - the film about Ian Curtis' life - about two months ago. Even worse, I'd had the DVD sitting on my desk for two years gathering dust. I can now legitimately say I love Joy Division (having listened to their entire back catalogue out of shame) but this song does make me feel guilty for not having done so earlier.

"Confusion in her eyes that says it all.
She's lost control.
And she's clinging to the nearest passer by,
She's lost control.
And she gave away the secrets of her past,
And said I've lost control again,
And a voice that told her when and where to act,
She said I've lost control again"

30 Day Music Challenge: Day Twenty Seven

Day 27: A Song You Wish You Could Play

As discussed in the last post I am not a musical person. I can't sing and I can't play any kind of instrument let alone play even one of the songs I love. In a perfect world I would be a singer/songwriter with multi-coloured hair and a wardrobe full of rock star clothes. However, it isn't a perfect world - don't get me wrong, my world is pretty damn awesome - but there are things I will never be able to do and being a musician is one of them. To a certain extent this is my own fault for not taking the time to learn/practice/whatever but it's also just a lack of natural skill!

There are therefore a lot of songs I wish I could play, most songs if I'm truthful. But I've got to choose one and as I'm a guitar chick at heart it has to be an air guitar classic - Sweet Child O'Mine by Guns'n'Roses. This song is a deserved classic and I love dancing to it although as I do a lot of air guitar I undoubtedly look like a complete moron whilst doing so! If by any chance I discover any hitherto untapped musical brilliance this is definitely the first song I'd want to learn to play...

"She's got a smile that it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
Where everything
Was as fresh as the bright blue sky
Now and then when I see her face
She takes me away to that special place
And if I'd stare too long
I'd probably break down and cry
Sweet child o' mine
Sweet love of mine"

30 Day Music Challenge: Day Twenty Six

Day 26: A Song You Can Play on an Instrument

Bahahahaha! This is going to be the shortest blog post in the history of the world. I can't play any instruments, at all. In fact, despite the fact I adore music, I must be one of the least musically talented people in the world. I wasn't allowed to learn the violin or join the choir because I couldn't tell one note from another and I played the recorder ineptly for a few months at primary school - that's the full extent of my musical repetoire! It's a shame because I'd love to be able to play some of the wonderful music that I love but I long ago accepted the fact that I'm musically incapable! 

So the answer to this question is, by default, the only song I have ever been able to play on an instrument - a French nursery rhyme called Frere Jacques on the recorder (the video is not me by the way). And I couldn't play it now to save my life!!

"Frere Jacques,
Frere Jacques,
Dormez vous?
Dormez vous?
Sonnez les matines,
Sonnez les matines.
Ding Ding Dong,
Ding Ding Dong."

30 Day Music Challenge: Day Twenty Five

Day 25: A Song That Makes You Laugh

British music is full of quirky silliness that makes me chuckle - Village Green Preservation Society by the Kinks, anything by Lemon Jelly, the Darkness or Goldie Lookin Chain and so on. As is British culture - from the Goonies to Black Books our comedy is by turns daft, dark, deeply human and utterly hilarious. The apotheosis of all this silliness is, at least as far as I'm concerned, Monty Python. The credit for my love of Monty Python has to go equally to my dad - I remember watching Python sketches with him when I was younger - and friends in my first year at University. I must have watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail about a million times during that year - I can still quote great big chunks of it from memory and it's undoubtedly one of my all-time favourite films. In fact, I slightly judge people who don't like it...

The Pythons were also brilliant at bonkers songs and of all their music there is one song that will always make me laugh out loud - however much of a terrible mood I'm in. My friend Jodie used to play it to me whenever I was having a crisis and although I've become much less melodramatic over the years it still works. So a little bit of laughter for a Tuesday morning - the Galaxy Song!

"The universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding
In all of the directions it can whizz
As fast as it can go, at the speed of light, you know,
Twelve million miles a minute, and that's the fastest speed there is.
So remember, when you're feeling very small and insecure,
How amazingly unlikely is your birth,
And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere up in space,
'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth."

30 Day Music Challenge: Day Twenty Four

Day 24: A Song You Want To Play At Your Funeral

A somewhat depressing question this one and one that it's quite hard for me to think about. It's only about a month since my Nana's funeral and the feeling of complete unreality as we walked into the church behind her coffin is as tangible to me now as it was then. There must have been music playing and I know we sang hymns but I honestly couldn't tell you what any of it was. I don't remember what music played at my Uncle's funeral either for that matter or at any other funeral I've been to. So in the face of death does music become insignificant to me or do I just choose not to remember it? Poetry seems much more appropriate for funerals to me - so many of the poems I'm most familiar with - Brooke, Sassoon, Owen, Rossetti - are infused with war, loss and grief.

Music is however an important part of my life and I want that reflected at my funeral - even if no-one really listens to it. I don't want anything too upbeat playing - I seriously doubt I'll be happy about dying and I'd like to think that people will be at least a little bit sad that I'm gone! However I'm not having anything dirgelike either - no Smiths or I will haunt the person who chooses the music for the rest of eternity... So instead let's have a bit of classic rock, namely the Rolling Stones. The Stones are undeniably an epic band, love them or loathe them, their music is incredible. After I'd worn out my ears listening to the Beatles at 16 I then moved on to the Rolling Stones fully prepared to dislike them - I'd got it into my head that you couldn't be a fan of both bands I think... That clearly isn't the case - in fact I don't think there's a Rolling Stone song which I don't like! Ruby Tuesday is however one of my favourites and I think it'd be entirely appropriate for saying goodbye. Of course I'm not going anywhere just yet so don't get too melancholy listening to this...

"She would never say where she came from
Yesterday don't matter if it's gone
While the sun is bright
Or in the darkest night
No one knows
She comes and goes

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you...

Don't question why she needs to be so free

She'll tell you it's the only way to be
She just can't be chained
To a life where nothing's gained
And nothing's lost
At such a cost

There's no time to lose, I heard her say
Catch your dreams before they slip away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams
And you will lose your mind.
Ain't life unkind?

Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still I'm gonna miss you..."

30 Day Music Challenge: Day Twenty Three

Day 23: A Song That You Want To Play At Your Wedding

Interesting question... I'm not one of those women who's had her entire wedding planned out in her head since the age of five (in the style of Monica from Friends) but I've always assumed I would eventually get married. When I was younger being 25 seemed unimaginably old and, particularly as my mum got married at 23, I couldn't have imagined not being married at my age! Now I'm here though there's still no great rush - finding the right person is much more important. Admittedly, I occasionally have moments when I freak out about not being married, especially as more and more of my friends start heading down that road, but they're few and far between.

If I do ever manage to persuade some poor misguided man to spend the rest of his life with me then all I know is that I want to be surrounded by the people I love and I don't want to spend a billion pounds - something I'm sure my parents will be pleased to hear! Other than that - well, I'll work it out if and when I get there. It's only one day after all - all you need is a pretty dress, lots of cake and even more champagne... Music is important though and, alongside all the old favourites, there are three songs I definitely want to play. Yes I know I'm supposed to only choose one but what the heck, it's my imaginary wedding!

1. Bad Touch - The Bloodhound Gang

I started singing this in Andy's kitchen the other day whilst trying to decide what to choose for this post. It's silly and utterly inappropriate but it'll make my life if I get to dance to this song in a wedding dress! 

2. How Do I Live Without You - LeeAnn Rimes

Now for something completely different... When I was 12 my brother and two of my cousins got married within about 4 months of one another and I remember declaring that this would be the song I had my first dance to when I got married. Being older, wiser and slightly better educated musically this is no longer the case however I would quite like to hear this song at some point during the day - in honour of my 12 year old self. 

3. Unintended - Muse

I've been trying to shoehorn Muse into one of these posts for a while now - after seeing them in Manchester last year they'll always be one of my favourite bands. I love a bit of guitar rock and over-the-top showmanship! The only disappointing thing about seeing them live was that they didn't play Unintended which is a real shame because it's a beautiful song about how falling in love doesn't always go to plan. I can't work out whether that's fitting or just weird for a wedding but who cares!

"You could be my unintended
Choice to live my life extended
You could be the one I'll always love
You could be the one who listens to my deepest inquisitions
You could be the one I'll always love

I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before   

First there was the one who challenged 

All my dreams and all my balance 

She could never be as good as you

You could be my unintended
Choice to live my life extended
You should be the one I'll always love

I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before
I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before
Before you"

30 Day Music Challenge: Day Twenty-Two

Day 22: A Song That You Listen To When You're Sad

Ok, despite what I said in the last post, this is the easiest question to answer! There was only ever one band I was going to choose for this, primarily because their music is the definition of melancholy - Bon Iver. Anyone who deals with a break-up by locking themselves in a cabin in Wisconsin and writing an album called "For Emma, Forever Ago" is going to write some spell-bindingly sad music. The timing of this album also chimes quite well with my life - it was released at a time when I really needed to listen to a lot of sad music and it's an album I come back to whenever I feel down. There's also a song written for one of the Twilight films called Roslyn which is in the same vein. If you haven't heard this album I really would recommend you give it a listen. However probably my favourite song is Skinny Love - it makes my heart ache just listening to the words. Given that today is Monday and that I feel ill it's also quite appropriately depressing...

"Come on skinny love just last the year
Pour a little salt we were never here
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

I tell my love to wreck it all
Cut out all the ropes and let me fall
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Right in the moment this order's tall

And I told you to be patient
And I told you to be fine
And I told you to be balanced
And I told you to be kind
And in the morning I'll be with you
But it will be a different kind
And I'll be holding all the tickets
And you'll be owning all the fines"