That don’t impress me much

Hi! first, I would like to make an addition to last week’s post on mooncups/organicups/diva cups or whatever your preferred brand is. My friend was convinced by my review to give it a try, and she is one of those way-too-enthusiastic people who leave encouraging notes on the back of toilet doors now, if that helps anyone (although I’m sure she’s probably the only one that reads this). Anyway, she made commented that on my review I seemed too astonished by its size and alarmed her. So she was pleasantly surprised when she received hers in the mail. She made this very excellent point: it’s not nearly as big as a dick. Lol. I mean, it’s not quite as… um… aerodynamically shaped… but yeah, if you can manage that, you’ll have no problem. Very good point worth mentioning.

OK the true point of today is: irritating people. But specifically the ones who irritate you with no real just cause, which irritates you more, because you feel like it’s your fault but also your inner Neanderthal instinct just says ‘no’ to that person.

I know a few people like this. One just got engaged. Very sweet girl. Used to be a close friend of hers at one point. But she slowly grew to irritate me so deeply that I can no longer speak to her. Usually I would greet engagement news even of a long-distance acquaintance with genuine joy and happiness, but hers just irritated me. Why? I don’t know. I feel dreadfully uncharitable. I have no reason!!! She’s just ANNOYING. She’s too sickly sweet. She puts on airs like she farts peaches and cream. Can’t be doing with it.

Another is this very mild very tiny sitch that I have going on, and again, it’s filling me with this irrational desire to be extremely rude. Guy in question is, on the face of it, very inoffensive. Why has he irritated me so much? Possibly because I know where he’s heading and I don’t like it. Or I think I know what he’s thinking and I really don’t like it. Maybe I don’t, maybe I’ve got him all wrong, but then again maybe I haven’t… but I just can’t be as rude to him as he makes me want to be, so I’m going to vent it on the internet instead, where no-one will ever find it.

Because I’m between uni and home, I don’t go to my home church all that much now. There’s a guy, we’ll call him John, I’d guess about twenty, really tall, long black hair, very awkward. Fairly new as our congregation goes, I reckon he’s only been coming about four years (hahaha no really. Ours is full of elderly lifers). Felt like I ought to get to know him a bit because it’s important to make newbies feel welcome. In the end, I didn’t, because I didn’t want to encourage…. anything. So basically I’ve never spoken to him.

Backstory: when you’re the only teenage girl at a small village church, you pick up a fair bit of unwanted attention. ‘Nice guys’, who are anything but. Been burnt a couple of times like this, hence the wariness. I’m not being a deliberate knobhead, I’ve just had enough of midnight messages of ‘will you be my girlfriend’. In the end I ‘married’ my best friend on facebook to stop the stupid relationship requests from coming in. ‘C— has listed you as his girlfriend, will you accept?’ Fuck no. In this instance the person in question was special and had no concept of boundaries. Made my life a bit miserable for a while. And you have to be a lot more careful around special people. It sorted itself out in the end after a few excruciating conversations, not just with him either. Parents, church wardens etc. I just do. Not. Need. That.

ANYWAY. Went to church on Sunday as I’m back home for my Easter hols. ‘John’ was in church. Our only contact was a handshake during the peace (you literally shake hands with – or hug, or kiss, if you’re so inclined – EVERYONE and say ‘peace be with you’, a part of the service I actually really love). Got home to find a facebook friend request. I thought, “Do I want to add him? No I do not.” But then my kindlier half said, “Give him the benefit of the doubt, he maybe just adds every randomer on facebook, not everyone is weird.” So I accepted.

WHY ARE GUYS SO ANNOYING? I bloody KNEW I shouldn’t have. Female intuition. Definitely a thing.

Seconds later, I get a message. I’ll type them in and you can see if you find them irritating. It’s not so much what he says, it’s what’s behind it, and his weird faux-interest and admittedly v. mild humble bragging. I nearly sent him a gif of dear Shania in her leopard-print crop top/cape. ‘That don’t impress-a me much, uh uh uh-huh.’

Here we go:

Him: ‘Hey, we’ve met at church a few times. Saw you play the piano- its really good! I’m a strong Chopin man myself, what kind of music are you into?’

Me, after considering immediately blocking him for no reason other than the ‘strong Chopin man myself’ part: ‘Hey, yeah I’ve seen you a few times, I’m never at church really because I move around a lot, live in —- at the moment. Thank you very much, that’s very kind. Hope you had a good easter.’ (Deliberately ended the convo and avoided the question hoping he’d get the hint. Nope.)

Him: ‘Yeah I know what you mean, are you at uni? It’s the same here, I’m half here half in —-. No worries, you have any particular music favourites  like? Yeah my Easter was good thanks, kinda got roped into preaching next week though which makes this week interesting :0’

Me: (inner swearing at him but unable to bring myself to blank him because I am too polite): ‘Piano, I’ll play anything. I like classical too. Music, I like punk, 1970s rock. Cool, what are you doing at —? good luck next week, what are you speaking on?’

Him, a day later: ‘Ah nice! How long have you been playing the piano? 70s rock is big in our house, I can defs appreciate it 🙂 Cheers, I’ll be speaking on the perfection of faith in the disciples. Will I see you around?’

Me, ready to jinx him: … silence, I think I’ve decided to blank this one. I have all sorts of comebacks I can’t actually say. Like ‘How long have you been playing the piano?’ ‘Almost as long as you’ve been alive’, sort of thing. Or maybe ‘Roped into preaching? Sounds painful.’ Oh, and obvs just sending Shania’s glorious leopard-print outfit, a thought which fills me with joy. It came so, so close. I know there definitely is the perfect gif because my fingers hovered over it for a second… Do you think I could just drop little nuggets in like ‘Do you have a comb up your sleeve, just in case?’ Mind you, he’d probably just think I was very very strange, he’s probably not old enough to catch the joke. If it gets awkward I could finish it with ‘Don’t get me wrong, yeah, I think you’re all right…’

 

Oh literally as I’m writing this I get a notification. ‘John likes your video.’ Oh great.

Do you know what I mean, though? I’ve never spoken to him. I don’t want to speak to him. I don’t care about music particularly and it’s the worst conversation opener ever. But he hasn’t done anything WRONG. He’s been totally polite and nice. Why is he so annoying? My best pal is 9847 x more chill than I am and I can almost hear her now saying ‘Why are you like this? He’s done nothing. Just talk to him. Maybe he’s lovely. He just wants a friend. Why has he annoyed you?’ Dear, I know. I don’t understand either. He just has. Male entitlement I guess. And because… I feel like he’s led in with the intention of asking me a question I do not want to have to listen to. And then I will have to give an answer and it will all be horrible. Just leave me alone pls. Ah this dance of politeness… It will only cause embarrassment in the end. Thing is, I can’t even head him off early with ‘I’m seeing someone else’ because what if he isn’t heading to the inevitable place I think he is? It is a lose-lose.

OK chatting it out with an invisible, possibly imaginary, audience has made up my mind. I’m gonna ignore him henceforth.

I’m pissed off for a few reasons really in that a) he’s taking up my time and b) I’m worrying about hurting his feelings already and c) why do they not get the hint and d) if you can’t speak to me in person don’t ask me weird questions on the internet and e) I really don’t care boy bye. FEMINISM. No time any more. I want to claim my own space.

Huge overreaction probably but I have almost no fucks left to give.

So anyway guys, thanks, you were all really helpful J I’ll keep y’all updated if anything interesting happens, or anything that’s enough to push me over the edge into sending him Shania in her absolutely fucking iconic leggings and matching suitcase.

Yours not-very-impressedly,

Georgie

 

In other news, taking the piss is like breathing in our house

I went out with my parents. We’d gone out for a pub dinner and when we came back I was so stuffed I announced, “I am going to have to undo my flies.” Mum looked at me with such utter disgust. I said, “What? I got genes from both of you.” And we laughed madly.

My dad alternates between calling himself an ooooold man and telling us how he rowed 10,000m in 42 minutes this morning. He is funny, generally. He still makes my mum giggle madly after thirty-five years. Goals.

Anyway he just said something about not being able to get up in the morning (even though he’s retired) and obviously we started rolling our eyes.

Mum goes, “Behind every great man, there is a woman – taking the piss.”

Then me and Dad had a disagreement over who won our game of Name That Tune yesterday and he turned to my mum and said, “She’s got such an irritating character… just like you.”

Now Dad’s winding her up and she goes, “Get OFF I told you, otherwise I will poke you in the eye!” we started sniggering again and Dad huffs, “Oh, yeah, and then you’ll hurt your finger, and that’ll be my fault an’ all.” They are really funny.

 

Feminist Interview

Hey guys! HAPPY NEW YEAR (for tomorrow)!!! Last post of 2015!

Seriously, where has the year gone?

I did my 2015 round-up last week, so back to a fairly normal topic for me, inspired by talking feminism down the pub with my mates.

Here I am, interviewing myself with hopefully relevant questions to people who aren’t sure about the point of feminism. I’m like a sad teenager with a teddy bear and a hairbrush, talking to myself in the mirror. Here goes (it’s a long one).

“Do you describe yourself as feminist?”

Yes. There is a general view that women are equal now, which we aren’t. People believe women have the same rights now, so they pay less attention to ingrained culture and media portrayal of gender roles, stereotypes and body image.

“Is it right to ban the Sun from SUs and campus shops because of page 3?”

Nobody is forced to read the Sun. I think it is a terrible newspaper and Page 3 is degrading, but you need to educate people to make their own choices rather than banning it for them – that way they don’t learn anything and dismiss the feminist cause as a killjoy. But seriously, people who still read that need to ask themselves whether it gives a message they want their sons and daughters receiving – that it’s OK for boys to ogle girls, because that’s what they’re there for. Yeah, healthy…

“Do women shave their body hair due to pressure from men?”

Yes, but men are often influenced by what they see in porn and the media. And I think women are more influenced by competition from other women and their beauty standards, who are influenced by other women in magazines and TV. I’ll never forget one of my close male friends saying once, “I think body hair on girls is just gross.” Why?? Do you not see that that’s really hurtful – and purely from social conditioning?

“So – porn?”

I think it’s probably OK in small doses as a healthy functional adult – but I’m really worried about kids watching it, seriously, the idea really freaks me out. The general aim of porn is to get a guy off as quickly as possible – no actual pleasure, the woman is frequently dominated or even abused, it’s full of smooth hairless bodies, there is no emotional bond, and the sex is not real sex. If this is what kids are using to learn about sex, it’s so messed up. And don’t watch too much of it, please. As an adult, you need to be aware of all times what’s real and what’s not. And porn, definitely, is not.

“Should boys be taught in school not to rape?”

Yes. Women are taught not to get raped – don’t go out alone, don’t walk at night, don’t wear revealing clothes – when they are perfectly entitled to walk around safely, whatever their situation. People don’t really say look out for women and respect them because they are people. Men are taught that their desires come first, and that masculinity is virility. This is so wrong. It does not even give men credit for being able to control themselves – it teaches them not only that they can’t, but that they don’t have to try. Women are blamed for men’s lack of control – but men CAN control themselves and it’s insulting to suggest they can’t. And it should be taught not just in school, but from birth, that boys and girls are equal, equally deserving of respect, and that neither sex has any superiority over the other, despite historical views (which also need to be taught, and then explained why they are wrong).

“Do you have a feminist idol?”

I don’t have just one. I respect and admire all the women (and men) who have worked for women’s rights, from when that was gaining the vote and constitutional rights, to being able to wear trousers or choose who, and whether, you marry, and now trans and racial feminist issues – these aren’t separate and the movement is widening (hooray!!). I think Jesus comes pretty high – he was the original feminist in Westernised culture.

The Mighty Girls page on Facebook is great for learning about feminist role models and game changers.

“Is lad culture a problem at university?”

The drinking culture, ‘beer goggles’, the groping in bars – ‘lads’ think that if a woman is in a club, she is there for their entertainment. If they buy a girl a drink (whether she wants it or not) they think she owes them sex. They take conversation as a green light for snogging/groping. They brag about who they’ve slept with and call them slags or bitches, and I find their double standard infuriating – they gain status while women lose it for exactly the same behaviour. They egg each other on to see who can be the most degrading towards women. They think they are God’s gift to women, but they deliberately target girls with low self-esteem because they believe they’re more likely to get them into bed. They treat women as sex objects, not people. This is fuelled by male competition and alcohol, on top of a lack of basic understanding. They will try to excuse their behaviour as ‘banter’ without realising the damage they do. So yeah, it’s a problem. And not just at university.

“What is the overall reputation of feminism?”

It’s still got a negative connotation (man hating, bra-burning, no fun, ugly, lesbian… all used as insults) but perception is changing, with a new wave of young, intelligent women, and popular culture figures identifying as feminist. A better understanding of the issues being fought for is coming through. People are beginning to realise there is still a problem. However, feminism still causes people to judge you, feel it’s OK to ask you personal questions, or deliberately insult you to get a rise. And many people, bizarrely, even if they agree with your argument, have a problem with the word ‘feminism’. I think this is very odd – and if someone has an issue with the name of the movement being female-centred (after its inception and history) it just proves how much work there is still to be done.

“Are most men sexist?”

It is frequent, but they don’t actually realise it – but so are many women! For instance, a man buying a girl a drink and then sticking to her all night – and the girl expecting a guy to buy her a drink. My dad lets my brother do things he’d never have let me do – biking, camping with friends, going out alone. Sometimes women have this terrible double standard of accepting sexist behaviours which might fall in their favour (opening doors, paying for dates) which really aggravates me – you want equality, or you don’t; you can’t pick and choose. As for the gallantry side, which is seen as ‘positive’ sexism – well, can’t you just do those things for everyone, regardless of gender? Traditional gender roles remain strong – in my house, my mum and I do all the cooking and cleaning. The roles are even present in my flat. There are sexual double standards regarding ‘numbers’. Adverts appeal to men using women in revealing clothes, or in subordinate physical positions, and men respond to these. Men, and women, are so conditioned to these roles that it takes someone to call it out before anyone normally even sees it.

So I’m here to call it out!

Thank you for reading this far, maties.

Yours feminininististly, Georgie

In Other News, No Make Up

I’m a bit iffy on the area of make up to be honest. I’d rather everyone agreed it was just fine for us all to wear it, than for someone to take away my eyebrow pencil because as a feminist I should stoically stand up for my eyebrowlessness, because I should not be judged for my exterior…

So anyway, new boyf about to see me without make up for the first time.

“Are you ready to see me without eyebrows?”

“I don’t know – it can’t be that much of a shock, can it?”

“Well, I don’t quite turn into Sloth Fratelli when I take my make up off, don’t worry.”

“I have no idea who that is,” he says, smiling.

He wasn’t smiling for long when I told him to Google it.

I am a Feminist

Hey hey readers, I hope you’ve been having lovely weeks. They seem to be going too quickly for me.

Are you ready for a slightly heavier topic this week? Here it is: why I’m a feminist. This is not an all-encompassing argument – I could go on for many pages. I’ve missed a lot out, especially men’s role in feminism and the damage of singular images of masculinity. Ah well, one for another day, eh?

I am a feminist. I believe men and women are equal. I don’t feel equal sometimes. I mean, it’s not like I’m a child bride, or banned from school, or paid for with a dowry, or seen as my husband’s property. But these are still things that happen all over the world – including here. We just don’t like to think about them so much. But they happen.

My personal choices don’t mean I can or can’t be a feminist. There is no box in which all feminists will sit – indeed, we don’t like being put in boxes, that’s why we’re here. Our forebears tore that box up, the one they were forced to sit in – they fought their way out and then sat proudly atop it, daring the hecklers to push them back in, because each time they were pushed back, they would fight harder than before, and stand taller, and shout louder.

This spirit remains in feminism. It’s the shout for equality.

I didn’t understand what feminism was, until recently. And then I discovered that awful buzzword – ‘society’s expectations’ – and realised that’s exactly what they are. Expectations. Judgements. On women, not men. The regulation of women’s bodies, not men’s. The female dress code. The prizing of female virginity. The concept of slut-shaming, versus, I suppose, stud-congratulating.

I am a feminist because when I helped tidy the dojang after a martial arts lesson, my instructor told me I would ‘make somebody a good housewife one day.’

I am a feminist because of all of those cat-calls and whistled shot after me in the street. I’ve never seen that happen to someone male-identified. And it’s far less likely to happen if you are with a man.

I am a feminist because a harasser is more likely to leave you alone if you tell him you have a boyfriend. Not because they respect you as a person, and your wish to be left alone, but because they respect another man far more than they respect you. This is an implication that you are seen as property. I don’t want a man’s actions blamed on what I wear. I want consent to be given, not assumed. I want to have the choice between being a stay-at-home mother or having a career, and not judged as ‘weak’ or ‘career bitch’, when the same choices for men are acceptable (although equally a stay-at-home father is new; another advance in equality, or in what feminism stands for). I don’t want to be made to feel ashamed for the way I look – the hair that grows naturally on my body. This is my choice, and whether or not I choose to be influenced by today’s expensive and unnatural standards, that is my choice. I am a feminist because the unrealistic body images that torment the minds of young girls are a cold ploy of advertising; nobody has flawless skin, that perfect airbrushed body. Cellulite is paraded as disgusting when almost every woman has it due to the configuration of her muscle cells; wobbly bits are banned because nobody wants to see. Breastfeeding is taboo, while breasts are used to sell products such as perfume and cars. I mean, come on! Who wants to see a breast being used for the purpose it was designed for, hey? That’s disgusting!

In the double standards, it seems a woman can’t win. If she gives up work for her children, she’s weak or lazy. If she goes back, she’s heartless and selfish. If she enjoys sex, she is a slut. If she doesn’t want to have sex, she’s frigid. A low-cut top makes her a slag but a turtleneck makes her a prude. Wearing make-up is for air-heads and bimbos, but going without implies carelessness and being ‘unshaggable’. Shaving her body hair makes her a conformist, but keeping it makes her disgusting. If the man was drunk, he couldn’t help it. If the woman is drunk, it’s her fault. Long hair means girlie and vain, while short hair means masculine and lesbian.

Sometimes these also apply to men, which can be equally harmful. A man who waits for sex is in some way deficient, as though all men must be desperate for sex otherwise they can’t really be manly. A man who attempts to buck the gender trends in terms of childcare, chores, or anything else, is considered a ‘pussy’ (feminine insult) or a ‘puff’ or something intended to be equally as insulting.

Women are told from media that all they are good for is sex, fashion and being mothers, but are considered sluts, air-heads, or weak for actually being interested in these things.

I am a feminist because, when I was twelve, I was harassed at a bus stop. I’m a feminist because when I was fifteen, a man tried to persuade me that my mum was inside his house and I should come inside with him. I am a feminist because I don’t feel able to walk the streets alone in the dark. I am a feminist because aged seventeen, I was followed through town by a man who asked me who I was meeting, when, and if I had a boyfriend. I am a feminist because people assume I can’t parallel park – because I am a girl. I am a feminist because I am sick of being told I ‘hit like a girl’ – newsflash: I am a girl. Another newsflash: why is being a girl the worst insult you can throw at me? I am a feminist because I am very, very bored of people asking me whether I have a boyfriend yet, as though I need a man to complete me. I am a feminist because so many insults specifically refer to the feminine: Pussy. Bitch. Slag. Slut. Whore. Bint. C***. Girl.

These are not generally echoed towards the male quarter.

This doesn’t even account for education levels or the pay gap or the division of household chores; we still aren’t equal. In fact, influenced, I think, by social media, there has actually been a recent revival of misogyny. The ‘banter’ type; the ‘go and make me a sandwich’ type; the ‘this is my bitch’ type.

Misogyny is also harmful to men, giving them unrealistic hyper-macho images to live up to. Not every man is the muscle-bound martial artist businessman with a silk tie and a scantily-clad girl at home. Not every woman is the scantily-clad type, in the kitchen making dinner for her masculine executive weightlifter.

Feminism is also a voice for the sidelined – the LGBT community, for example. Others who tore up their boxes before climbing on top of them to shout out their existence, demand their rights.

We need feminism. Feminism is revolutionary. Feminism is necessary. Everyone should be a feminist – feminism is everyone. Feminism is equal.

Georgie

In Other News, I nearly forgot In Other News

Today I have partaken in my favourite sport of Tussock-Hopping. I work on the moors or heathland or culm, and on the really good bits where it’s completely waterlogged and just basically a giant puddle interspersed with huge moorgrass tussocks, my colleagues and I compete in the Tussock-Hopping stakes. Three strikes and you’re out, and there is a significant element of danger in twisted ankles, but it’s great fun. You get trick tussocks and trick puddles and it is all a game of chance. If you miss your chosen tussock you can end up doing an impression of Atreyu in the Neverending Story – that swampy bit with the giant turtle. I won today’s round – happy days.