Tea and Strumpets
Last night, I was innocently walking home, and came across a group of young women handing out pamphlets. This being Courtenay Place, you would be right to assume that it wasn’t the local Temperance League they were promoting, but the opening of the capital’s latest strip club.
Just as I was about to open my mouth to tell one of them I liked her (sparkly!) dress, around the corner came a group of men. Significantly older than said young women, and quite a lot drunker, they seemed delighted to come across such friendly and welcoming Wellingtonians.
Because the encounter I then witnessed made me angry, I feel the need to offer some reminders to…well, people in general I guess, but I suspect drunk, white, middle-aged men might benefit from this the most.
Follow along with me here, people. Young people in New Zealand drink too much. I KNOW. We have a problem with binge drinking and violence and people generally behaving badly at 3am on Queen St (And Courtenay Place, and the Octagon and wherever the hell Christchurch twatcocks gather these days. Papanui?)
Yes, this is a problem, one that has many causes, including but not limited to: the availability of cheap pre-mixed drinks, bar staff who fail to police people’s drinking, the concentration of bars in these areas, our general poor attitude to alcohol, and people’s general fuckwittery.
You know what doesn’t cause this problem? Short skirts.
Queen Street, just before midnight – there are pushes, shoving and foul language. We had just arrived, and already we see a woman bloodied after a girl-on-girl punch up….
All night I have seen young drunk revellers. Some of them are underage; most of them are women wearing tight, revealing dresses. They have admitted to me they are binge drinkers getting drunk on a Friday and Saturday night. They come to Queen St because they like the attention.
“The girls here are completely young and drunk,” says Lana MacFarlane. “They are so much younger than I am. It’s so awkward. You feel old at 21. I feel ridiculously old at 21.”
Combine that language with some loving, lingering shots of young women’s asses.
Here’s my question, Amanda Gillies. What on earth does it matter what these women are wearing? God knows, I am all for binge drinking, but I try to avoid the hideousness that is Courtenay Place (and I assume, Queen St, it’s been a long time since I was there after midnight) early on a Sunday morning. Looking after one’s beautiful shoes is much easier when one doesn’t ave to sidestep puddles of vomit. This is an actual, serious problem, and one isn’t going to be solved when the news is served with a good healthy dollop of slut-shaming.
What, exactly, are you trying to say here? Only sluts would get drunk like this? They deserve whatever happens to them because of their behavior and attire? What’s the subtext here? Because the actual text is more than offensive enough.
There I was, watching Newt Gingrich losing his shit in the Republican primaries, calling women sluts, and wryly smiling about the infamous all-male panel on contraception. I fell in love with Obama all over again. And I was all smugly, well, we women in New Zealand are so lucky, with our relatively easy and cheap access to contraception.
Aren’t we? AREN’T WE? Yeah, well, until the Government comes along and decides that it doesn’t like poor women, and their grubby little oiks, and so it’ll Put A Stop To That.
Now, if you follow me on Twitter, you may know that this has made me very caps-locky, swearingly, rantingly angry. I will try to be slightly more reasoned here, but I can’t promise this post won’t descend into me ANGRILY BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE KEYBOARD.
So. Some thoughts.
1. Why is this even a welfare issue?
Yes, all women should have access to safe and cheap contraception. And the way we know how we’re getting safe contraception is by talking about it with our doctors. Not our WINZ case managers. In fact, via Nikki:
In making an informed decision about contraceptive use and choice of method, all
women, including young women, must be provided with full and unbiased information about all of their options, including the expected risks, side effects, benefits and costs. This is provided for under rights six and seven of the Code of Health and Disability Services Consumer Rights.” From Women’s Health Action‘s paper on welfare reform
So, why is this coming from welfare? Why is Paula Bennett not involved? (If you think you can stomach listening to her, she is here. TLG is not responsible for any damage to your desk or computer from the repeated head-banging.)
Because why? Because poor women are bad and evil and shouldn’t be costing the taxpayer more than they already are! God. Why are they even pretending this is about contraception? It’s about pretending to save money and stopping poor people from having more babies. Because I don’t know if you got the memo? But poor people are bad.
Will WINZ staff be educated in contraception, and advising people on how to get it and what they might need? Will it be explained what an IUD id, and how it works, and what the benefits and side effects might be?
Let’s be clear. If we actually want to do this, to increase access to contraception – especially for young people – then it should be universal, available to any gender, and not based on income.
2. Oh, but come on, aren’t you laydeez overreacting? “Being able to access” is not the same as “have to use”.
Well, first of all, we’re not talking about condoms here, sunshine, we’re talking about long-term IUDs and hormonal implants. So, this has long-lasting effects for the women who choose to “access” it. Five years is a long time, particularly in a woman’s reproductive life.
Secondly, if you don’t think WINZ staff would ever pressure someone into doing something like this, then you’ve never been on a benefit. WINZ staff are required to push policies like this. If you don’t think WINZ staff intimidate and coerce their clients, you are remarkably naive.
And thirdly? What’s to stop them, in a year, turning around and saying – you didn’t take the opportunity for the contraception, so we’re docking your benefit. Oh, you got pregnant while you were still on a benefit, so we’re going to punish you by making you go back to work early. OH WAIT. THEY ALREADY DID THIS.
Being on a benefit isn’t a measure of how clever or moral someone is, and this policy is fucking patronising. Nor, given the fact it will be aimed at women and their children, is it hereditary.
3. Um, there’s this other person involved? I think he’s called Dad.
(Big sloppy kiss to whoever can tell me where I stole that line from.)
Why is this being aimed at women? Why are free vasectomies not being handed out? Or giant bowls of condoms on the front desk at every WINZ branch?
Is it really appropriate for a government to target young women for long-term contraception? If the Government really wants to address these issues, why is it not putting money into much more comprehensive sex education, better, cheaper and easier access to healthcare, and many, many more employment options? Or is that just not punitive enough?
This is only scratching the surface – have at it in the comments. And Deborah has a great post at her place.
FOTLG Boganette linked to this article on Tumblr last night. I have been mulling it over, and while it’s not the cause, it is definitely not helping this headache I have. So let’s, shall we, take this apart piece by piece. It is brilliant in it’s absurdity. As always, Don’t read the comments.
Is the pursuit for gender equality sucking life out of relationships?
Not mine, but you carry on.
Instead of harnessing the different qualities of men and women to energise us, we are striving to make men and women equal.
More women are joining the battle for the CEO’s chair and pursuing dominance in their homes and communities. But in the process they’re becoming more like men. And men are becoming… well, less like men.
Um, yeah, no. “Striving for equality” isn’t “making women more like men. And cutting off the men’s balls and turning them into namby-pamby apron wearing pantywaists. It means women having equal rights and opportunities and access to services and healthcare, and bodily autonomy, and freedom from fear of violence, and teh right to work or not work. It’s the choice. And if a woman has to “become more like a man” to do that, that’s a sad indictment on this apparently “post-feminist” world we live in. If she does that because she chooses to, fantastic. But let’s none of us fool ourselves into thinking that women wearing boxy pantsuits and drinking beer with the boys after a 14 hour day at the executive table is what every feminist wants.
Renowned Australian neurosurgeon Charlie Teo believes men and women have different roles “set not only by society but set by physiology”.
“The current trend is for dads to be more hands on. But for all we know it may be proven in a hundred years time that that may be a negative thing for the upbringing of children,” he said recently on Seven’s Sunday Night program.
Yes. Parental involvement is such a terribly bad thing. That’s why I just spent ten minutes googling and couldn’t find any study ever saying that. (I’m positive someone will come along to prove me wrong). But what do I know? For all we know, in one hundred years, it may be proven that cigarettes are good for you, lettuce causes heart disease, and bourbon is an elixir. (I can live in hope)
Feminism has achieved victories for women, but could it be at the expense of femininity, chivalry and attributes of the opposite sex that instinctively attract us to each other?
No. Have you not seen the recent retro-crafty-uber-feminine-apron-and-gingham movement. Or feminist embracing stilettos and lipstick. And I, as a card-carrying feminist (seriously, we need cards, ladies), have never once kicked a man for holding a door open for me. Chivalry is nothing more than politeness, and I expect that from everyone.
“This force of attraction is the dynamism that often disappears in modern relationships. If you want real passion, you need a ravisher and a ravishee. Otherwise you just have two buddies who decide to rub genitals in bed,” he writes.
*snort*. I just…can’t even. Hey, I liked to be ravished as much as any girl, but why is that to say women can’t be the ravisher? Oh. Because he wrote a book called “The Way of the Superior Man”, so he’s clearly the ideal person to quote in an article about feminism.
Earlier this month, TopGear presenter James May…
Noted without comment.
Well into the last century the husband provided his family with a home and food and this sole responsibility gave him a sense of power and purpose. And women didn’t feel pressure to justify their existence with a career. They were proud home makers and mothers.
Until feminism.
That’s right, blame the bitches. We ruined _everything_. Just out of interest, this right you have to express your opinion, to be heard in a publication, that just came to you, did it? No one fought for that right, no one suffered so you could spout your “traditionalist views”? And also, you know there are women who are still proud homemakers and mothers? And the fact that some women feel pressured to stay in the workforce or not stay in the workforce, or wear heels or not wear heels or put our when they don’t want to, is exactly the reason you need to be a feminist.
However, a British survey of 2000 men revealed one-third of men would prefer to be the sole breadwinning traditional father while another quarter would like to be the main breadwinner with their spouse working only part-time.
Instead, men are sporting aprons, doing their own ironing and pushing trolleys down supermarket aisles – roles that don’t exactly exude manliness.
You know, one of the most “manly” men I know does his own ironing. In fact, I’ve asked him on occasion to do mine. Do you know what? Sporting aprons and doing the supermarket shopping is providing for a family. Challenging society’s vision of what makes a “real man” is extremely manly, and if you can’t see that, you are part of the problem.
“Kids, turn off the TV, Buster outside, Dave, the dishes aren’t going to clean themselves.” Dave feels like he’s surrendered his balls.
When a man is stripped of his sense of purpose, it’s more difficult to satisfy that instinctive hunger for power and purpose. Could this be part of the reason why one in eight Australian men experiences severe depression in their lifetime?
Deida describes it as a “weakened impotent existence”.
“Without a conscious life purpose, a man is totally lost, drifting, adapting to events rather than creating events,” he said.
Dave should probably talk to his wife. Of course, his wife is probably working a full time job, and doing the lion’s share of the caring at home, because our society continues to not value “women’s work”. He might feel like he’s surrendered his balls. She’s probably exhausted.
And you know what? I could care less that the poor delicate flowers that are men are lost, adrift, and confused and impotent. OK, I probably care about that last one. However. I expect everyone – of whatever gender – to treat me like a human being. Frankly, I don’t give a shit if you’ve been taught to hate my gender. Man up, and do the decent thing.
I don’t think that women should surrender their careers all together. But if we allow men to reclaim some power, we women could do more to embrace our femininity.
Would we be happier if more of us accept that men and women are not equal?
Aside from the fact that the first sentence makes no grammatical sense, um, what? I think you mean men and women aren’t the same. I’d argue that people aren’t the same, but actually, I will never, ever, not in a million years, not if you paid me a billion dollars, or gave me 100 puppies, accept that men and women are not equal.
And even if in your privileged life, men and women are equal, it might be worth thinking about the fact that that in a lot of places, women live horrible lives of poverty and violence and fear. And we need to do something about that. With or without aprons.
Hey you guys! A woman was attacked in a notorious “problem spot”. Guess what. She shouldn’t have been there, then maybe she wouldn’t have been attacked. Of fucking course.
Thanks Stuff, for your in-no-way-victim-blamey poll. How about blaming the attackers, not women and dark corners?
[Updated: Stuff has apparently deleted the poll. Well. That's....something?]
[Updated x2: Seriously, don't read the comments. Or at least be aware they should come with trigger warnings.]
If you can read the following paragraph, and not be angry, you’re not a feminist.
Women still don’t earn as much income as men in comparable occupations and there is still a tendency to think that women belong in the kitchen, but the feminists that have fought for equality over the years have had a huge effect on gender roles in our society.
Oh, fuck off, AskMen. I’ve spoken to you before. You don’t get to invoke feminism. Ever. Because those gender roles you talk about up there? You actively participate in maintaining them. In fact, you exist to maintain them.
You don’t think we should be angry? Fuck you, and the shiny little horse you rode in on. Let me introduce you to the words Tone Argument. And while I’m at it, Intent. And also, can I introduce you to my foot? It would like to meet your balls. Your patronising arguments on “how to deal with” us can bite me. Back off with your arms raised all you like, but I am still going to call you a group of misogynist shits.
No, I don’t agree with Solanas and Dworkin and Jeffries. At all. When it comes to the matters of sex, I couldn’t be more opposed to what they have to say. That’s pretty much why we call them radical and militant. You know what those words mean, right? It means they’re extreme, different from the norm, revolutionary. But, you know, way to handpick the women who have views about hating men to undermine all feminism. Despite your back-handed “some feminists are great!”, thanks for painting the whole movement as misandrist. For the record, I’ve been doing feministy things for years now, and I’ve yet to meet a woman who actually hates men. I like people to be polite in conversation, and here on this website. That doesn’t mean I’m not occasionally furious with the world. You can tell. It’s when I write in all caps.
But you bet your ass I am angry. Not about sex, as a general rule, but I’m angry about being called a slut because I like sex. I’m angry about old white men wanting to control my reproductive health. I’m angry that I can’t walk down the street without wondering whether my cleavage means I am “asking for it”. I’m angry about political representation and wage gaps and child care and meaningful work and the way women of colour are massively over-represented in US jails. I’m angry that I have to fight so fucking hard to be taken seriously by people like you. Because what’s frustrating is that I could not give less of a shit about what the editors and writers and advertisers of AskMen think. But if you’re going to perpetuate this kind of bullshit to your readers, then I do care.
So, AskMen, take your misogynist, woman-hating crap, and shove it somewhere painful. Women have every right to be angry. Your tone arguments are meaningless, please stop using them. Or just fuck off, that’d work too. No, the vast majority of us do not want to wipe out men. Some of us love them. But yes, sometimes we want men to shut up and listen. Because that’s how you learn and empathise and be a good ally. Which is not to say men can’t be feminists, or part of the conversation about equality. In fact, we can’t do it without you. It’s just that maybe, every once in a while, and especially if you’re going to talk about women’s issues, you could AskWomen.
Oh noes! You guys! In the US there are reporters getting all sexy up in their Twitter profile pictures, and it’s causing a stir.
Consider:
News organizations will have to decide whether having star reporters making silly faces on camera, posing artistically, or wearing skin-bearing [sic] dresses is congruent with their brand image.
More often, women have to fight to be taken seriously,” he said. “I think it’s unfair that women are judged on this. But my concern is, are they doing anything to undermine their credibility?
Not only are those two paragraphs in the same story, they are said by the SAME PERSON. A dude, of course. You have to wonder how these women don’t get the Exact Right Image when a so-called expert is body-snarking one second and then decrying the culture around that the next.
Here is one of the profiles in question. Does she look a little bit goofy? Yes. Does she look like she has maybe been on a campaign media bus for several hours, filing from her seat, drinking bad coffee and eating snacks that bear no resemblance to actual food? Yes. Does it matter at all what she looks like, providing she’s not actually naked or drunk or posing with Rick Santorum?
In fact, does women’s credibility rely on how they dress/pluck their eyebrows/”bear” their skin? Posing artistically? OH THE HUMANITY! We know, that, yes actually, of course it does. Never mind dressing professionally or appropriately, women need to be – especially if they are on TV – the perfect blend of attractive/sexy/bangable/fashionable and also buttoned-up/chaste/demure. But attractive is paramount, because we know no one wants to listen to a woman talk, unless she’s fuckable. I mean, it’s not like she could possibly know what she’s talking about.
Seriously, there are, like, really important issues to be discussed in this campaign. Who the hell cares what a reporter’s Twitter picture is?
(Huh. I guess it wasn’t that quick. Never is with me, really.)
Because there’s no such thing as a stigma against fat people, some days, it slips my mind that I am overweight. You see, I don’t ever get random abuse shouted at me on the street. The fact that I can only shop in about 5% of the clothes shops in my city in no way makes me feel like I’ve been corralled off into some paddock where the un-sexy fatties go to pig out and wear unflattering clothes. Buying clothes on the internet, and the extra cost involved, and hit-and-miss nature of it, passes me by. Going on that traditionally “girly” expedition, Shopping, with friends of “normal” sizes, in NO WAY feels like torture. I don’t ever end up buying, like, a $100 scarf, just to feel like “one of the girls”. And I certainly don’t own masses of shoes and scarfs and jewellery, because they’re the Fat Girl’s Consolation.
I don’t get well-meaning comments from my relatives, EVER. My mother doesn’t ever say “have you lost weight?” in a hopeful, but forlorn voice. Nor does she use the fact that I haven’t eaten for 4 days because I’m heartbroken as a positive, because I might drop a kilo or two.
No one ever comments on the size of my ass or tits or stomach. No stranger has ever yelled “hey fat bitch” at me, or mooed. I’ve never scanned the room to see if I am the fattest person in it, and hated myself for being slightly gleeful if I am not.
I don’t live in fear of being filmed as the “headless fat person illustrating a story of OH MY GOD THE OBESITIY EPIDEMIC!!1!!” I don’t ever feel like I have to apologise for taking up so much space.
I never worry that my size might make flying difficult, that things other people do without thinking, like canoeing, or cycling, or simply sitting in a chair might be hard for me. For the record, bar stools don’t ever fill me with dread.
It has never crossed my mind that my size is stopping me from finding True Wuv. I don’t worry that no one will ever find me attractive again, because I’m fat, and I don’t look like Charlize Theron. Never. That’s not a thought that keeps me awake at night AT ALL.
I don’t get told that I might not suffer from depression if I “exercised a little bit”, as if the person involved knows anything about how much I exercise. No one has ever told me they’re “just worried about [my] health”, without ever actually bringing up my health, just my size. And I’ve certainly never felt like I could tell those people to MIND THEIR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS, because of course my fatness is public property and a perfectly acceptable topic of conversation, and why on earth should I be offended about people bringing it up.
I never feel judged eating in public. No one ever looks askance at me if I happen to be eating a burger. That didn’t just happen in fact, like, yesterday. I’ve never not ordered what I actually wanted so as not to be judged by my fellow diners. I’ve never felt the need to lie about my eating habits, even when, in reality, they are perfectly healthy. No one has ever asked me if I “really need that“.
I’ve never felt the need to cover up my arms, or my thighs, as if my body is offensive to others, and it’s up to me to police that.
I don’t dress to emphasize my cleavage, because my big tits are the one socially acceptable thing on my body. I’ve never suffered the gauntlet of shopping for lingerie or swimwear for the “larger woman”, and the inherent humiliation. I’ve never worn clothes that are uncomfortable, or too hot, or too tight, or just Not Quite Right, because it was for a performance or uniform of some kind.
I never, ever, have to point out the simple fact that weight and/or size don’t correlate to health. I never feel compelled to point out my perfect blood pressure and low cholesterol. No one ever brings up the history of heart disease and diabetes in my family.
I’ve never felt ashamed of my body, wanted to hide in a corner and curl up to make myself as small as possible, because of something someone unthinkingly said. Or didn’t. I’ve never wanted to hide, just because I’m short and fat and round, and don’t fit how people should look. I’ve never, ever, not once, forced myself to be gregarious and happy and the life of the party, while secretly wanting to escape to the corner with a bag of chips because sometimes, it’s just All Too Much. I don’t feign confidence and sexiness that I often don’t feel because, hey, fuck you society and your strict interpretation of what is attractive. I don’t EVER, EVER feel like my size suggests I should act, or be, a certain way. And I certainly don’t feel like saying Fuck You to society in that way is exhausting and neverending and pointless.
So, thanks, Stuff. Because just in case none of us knew we are fat, it is fucking brilliant to know that you are on the case. I’ll rest MUCH FUCKING EASIER tonight.
Seriously, NZ Herald? This is what passes for election coverage?
I was going to write a whole screed here, rant and rage and encourage people to write to you or boycott you or something. But actually, seriously, I give the fuck up.
Banter in the Garden