Rape and Alcohol

Over the last few weeks, I've been fortunate enough to speak to several fantastic bloggers and journalists, who have been writing about victim blaming and violence. Most of this has been related to a the posters at occupational health (which have now been taken down), though I was asked to comment on a different issue today.

Judge Mowat, who is thankfully retiring, publicly stated that rape convictions will not fall until women stop getting drunk. She effectively told women that if they are drinking, their cases will be dismissed and they might as well not prosecute.This attitude is worrying, coming from anyone. But when it comes from someone as highly regarded, it is dangerous. 

The statement I gave to the journalist is as follows:

"These statements, by a respected and trusted figure, are extremely worrying. Rape is the result of the perpetrators actions, and it is these that need to be examined, not the victim's. The archaic attitudes and stereotypes, combined with the taboo of sexual violence, mean that many women feel unable to seek the justice that they deserve or the support that they need. Rape happens to women of all ages, from all backgrounds, of all appearances and in all communities, and outdated, blinkered views of an 'acceptable victim'  need to be challenged."

There's far more that I could have said "officially", but people better qualified than me had already covered these issues, including Rape Crisis England and Wales, and Oxford Sexual Abuse and Rape Crisis Centre. 

Yet again, it shows how desperately we need to open a dialogue on the concept of consent. If respected judges and juries are telling women that women are at fault if they are so drunk they can't remember, and talk of whether they consented or not, it really brings into question their own knowledge of the law. After all, the perpetrator must reasonably believe that the woman had consented, and if the woman cannot remember because she had been so inebriated (which was claimed by Judge Mowat), then she evidently lacked capacity to consent.

Comments on the Mail Online's article include such gems as:

"Being so drunk you can't remember names makes you vulnerable, that's not blaming it's stating a fact", "Blame the ladette culture"

"Obviously people who are out drinking are easy targets"

"Women have to learn their limits"

"You wouldn't leave your front door open when you go on holiday"

"Women should fight like fury if they ever find themselves in such a situation"

"It wasn't your fault - well, it is if you get too drunk!"

"Men will learn not to rape when we all get into paradise."

But what do you expect from the average Daily Mail reader, eh?

Thing is, these comments show several of the key problems with the general public's perception of rape. Time and time again, people were writing about being out, being alone and vulnerable... but only one third of reported cases involve alcohol, not the vast majority as seems to be implied. And most callers to rape crisis helplines knew their attacker. That's not to negate the impact on those who are raped by strangers, but statistically speaking, the image put forward by these readers is the tiny minority.

As for fighting like fury and talking about injury and DNA samples as evidence, it again shows a lack of understanding. It is not as simple as fighting. There is fight or flight, but there is a third reflex as well - freeze. Both times that I was raped, I became incredibly still and passive. Maybe it was self-preservation, trying to stop any further physical harm, but it certainly didn't mean I consented in any way.

If women were to be responsible for reducing the risk to themselves and do this effectively, the actual list of advice would be rather different. It would include such gems as don't date, don't marry, don't make any friends (particularly male ones). Don't smile at anyone, don't leave your house, and live as a hermit in complete isolation.

Basically, it's completely and utterly impossible to protect oneself from rape, because it is the perpetrator's decision and fault. The victim cannot be expected to change her actions, her clothing or anything else, especially when that doesn't actually have any correlation to the incident (but even if it did...!)

People have preconceived ideas as to what a rape victim is. They don't see the reality of the situation, to the extent that I received a good and proper trolling on Twitter a few weeks ago, where I was told that no-one would ever want to rape a "land-whale" like me. Yet again, rape is reduced to a sexual act, rather than one of control and power.

What seems to be positive is that the dialogue is starting. Even publications like the Daily Mail, which have a historically poor reputation with regards to women's rights issues, are reporting positively about victim-blaming. Maybe the readers are still reluctant, but change takes time.

If you are interested in reading the Daily Mail article, it can be found here.

Ohio: The Importance of Choice

If you want to read Neil Lyndon's article, please consider using this link. It uses a service that stops the Telegraph from profiting from disgusting journalism such as this.

It has been announced in the past few days that Ohio has tabled a bill regarding abortion and men's rights in agreeing to termination. It is a horrific piece of legislation that would be a worrying step backwards in human rights if passed.

But whilst the bill itself is shocking, just as appalling is the reaction of male journalists and campaigners who seem to have missed the point entirely.

I pride myself on being inclusive in feminism, in wanting to involve people of all ages, backgrounds and genders in our fight for equality. I am far from a separatist, despite what my history might lead people to think. I believe feminism can be women-centred and women-led without being women-only. And I truly believe that female equality benefits men long-term too.

However, when I read articles such as that by Neil Lyndon in the Telegraph, I am suddenly led to feel a great surge of empathy for my separatist sisters.

First, let's talk about pregnancy. There's the obvious, terrifying realisation that you're going to be a parent. Even if you really want it and you're excited, there's still fear and trepidation. Yes, that's something that men feel too, I will allow that. But do they put on enormous amounts of weight, some of which they might never shift? Sounds fine, but what about when society -yes, YOUR patriarchal, misogynistic crap - insists that we stay perfect, beautiful, skinny and flawless forever? 

And how about our whole relationship with the world changing? I wish that was an exaggeration. I went down to the hotel bar to see a friend and ended up choking back the vomit. "What IS that stuff you're drinking?" It was just red wine, but a pregnant woman's sense of smell changes so drastically that it alters her perception. Shopping at the supermarket became the strangest experience, smells I'd never noticed before suddenly becoming overwhelming. I was more sensitive to sound, to taste. I had extraordinary cravings taking over my body. Quite simply, my body was not my own.

And then, at the end of nine months of intermittent sickness, pain and aches, sleepless nights (because you just can't sleep comfortably), weight gain, swollen ankles and other parts, comes the grand finale - forcing a fully grown baby out of a hole so small that its skull bones have to overlap to get through. And whilst much safer today than it once was, childbirth is still risky. In fact, there were a staggering 343,000 deaths during childbirth in 2008.

Have you got the picture yet? Pregnancy... Childbirth... it's scary stuff.

And whilst men may be expected to contribute to prospective offspring, and may still feel the same levels of fear and trepidation about parental commitments or the well-being of their partners, they don't have to go through the physical changes, the hormones or face a potentially life-threatening situation at the end of it. It isn't your body to control. As I said before, it was barely my own!

 “Since fathers will have legal responsibilities for child support, they should have rights regarding the birth or destruction of the foetus."

There is so much wrong with this quote from Lyndon's article. If there is a child resulting from the pregnancy AND they are required to contribute financially, then perhaps it can be discussed further. At that point. But with regard to the pregnancy and birth, that affects the mother and decisions should be her domain.

So women, according to Lyndon's piece, would have to provide a list of possible fathers. There would be paternity tests so that the individual could give "permission" for a termination. Seriously? There's a one night stand and no interest in children, but she needs to ask for permission to get rid of an unwanted foetus that could risk HER LIFE, physical and emotional well-being and did I mention HER LIFE?!

"If the father cannot be identified, the woman would not be allowed to terminate her pregnancy."

Because, obviously, a woman cannot make autonomous decisions. If the father is so elusive that he cannot be identified, how does he have any rights at all in these circumstances?

"Where the woman says that the pregnancy is the result of rape, she would have to provide a police report as evidence before she could have the abortion."

So, let me get this straight. A woman has been sexually assaulted, had all of her rights stripped away from her in the worst possible way. She's, quite possibly, struggling to admit what happened to herself, let alone anyone else. She's just found out that not only was her body treated as a plaything by someone else on that night, but her body has just been taken over by a parasite for the next nine months (ok, eight, once she finds out) and her body's still not her own. I keep coming back to this, but the issue of propriety is actually quite significant when all ownership has been stripped away.

She's gone through all of this, and now you're not going to let her have an abortion unless she provides a police report? So she's got to report and relive that whole experience, and that's if the police decide to take it seriously in the first place. A law like this is only going to encourage police forces to dismiss rape cases on the grounds that she's "just trying to get an abortion". Why make a difficult situation harder?

I look back on my experience in Germany and wonder where I would have been. I was laughed at by the police, because I was an English girl. I've been laughed at by others because I'm ugly and should be grateful for the attention. I'm not alone; there are thousands of women experiencing the same victim shaming that I went through, and refusal to acknowledge the trauma.

Reporting to the police, just like abortion, needs to be a choice. Choice is everything in cases of violence, and all those choices need to be independent and exclusive.

" Is it in the interests of taxpayers that 150,000+ abortions should be performed every year? Is it in the interests of the wider society that those lives - more or less equal to the annual figure for net migration in the UK - should be stilled?"

These were the final questions asked in the article. The short answer is that yes, these abortions are definitely in the interest of the taxpayer. The longer answer is that we often is the surgical cost of termination without considering the wider implications.

Imagine a woman who has been forced into having her child. Think of the counselling and therapy costs that she would undoubtedly need at some point. Think of the economic cost due to someone potentially unable to work as effectively due to the emotional or physical repercussions. If you want to look at cold, hard facts, then an abortion costs around £400 as opposed to upwards of £700 for childbirth (and that's without all the scans and all the rest of it). Then there's the cost of education, healthcare and everything else. If you want cold, hard "interests of taxpayers", then that woman's doing you a hell of a favour.

In reality, nothing is ever so black and white. Every woman's story is different and the reasons for abortion are also varied. To reduce women to the cost of their healthcare, abortion or birth, or to reduce children to the cost of their education is over-simplification at best, but rather callous and insulting.

Women deserve a choice over something that will permanently change their lives. There is no shame in involving the father in the decision process, but there is also no obligation. If men are so concerned with how they are being treated in these cases, then perhaps it's time to take a look at the bigger picture and the way our patriarchal society is treating women as a whole. Perhaps then, they may start to understand.

The Right Victim

“I know it wasn’t my fault,” I told my counsellor last summer. “It was his; he was the one who did it… At least it was only me he got.”

This was my reaction to being raped a second time. At least it was only me.

I couldn’t quite understand why she was so upset by this, not at the time. After all, surely it was better that I was the victim than someone else? I was already damaged goods, I’d already been through it once before, and I was getting the right support so didn’t have to experience the ordeal of finding it again. If he was going to attack someone – and statistics would imply that it was premeditated to some degree – then I was grateful it was me and not another woman.

I thought that I was being rational and mature about a terrible situation, that my presence that evening had somehow saved this nameless, faceless victim. To some extent, a lot of women do this, try to put a positive spin on it. I know I’m not alone, and protective strategies such as this have their place. We need ways to carry on.

But as time went on, I started to realise something awful. Because by assuming that responsibility, or accepting myself as the “right person”, I was becoming complicit in the victim-blaming culture that had developed around me.

No, I wasn’t suggesting it was my fault because I had been alone in the sauna, or that I had made myself vulnerable in the clothing that I had worn. However, by adopting a position as the “best” target, I had created a hierarchy of merit.

No-one deserves to be raped. No-one is asking for it or putting themselves in the wrong position or to blame in any way. It is only ever the perpetrator’s fault. End of.

A single woman shouldn’t feel “grateful for the attention”, nor should anyone feel that it’s “harmless fun”, and someone who has been there before shouldn’t feel any less important or any more deserving because of their past.

The End Victim Blaming Campaign asks us to think about our own frame of reference, how we respond to stories and why we respond in that way. Sometimes it’s also useful to think about how we would respond if it was another person reacting that way too, allowing us some perspective and a chance to review without feeling that the self-care is self-ish.

I know that if a friend or colleague told me that they were relieved it was them, that they didn’t matter and they weren’t important because they were damaged, I would be appalled. Because we all matter; we are all worthy of love, care and respect.

As a teacher, I’ve worked alongside children who have been victims and witnesses of male violence against women and children. It never fails to shock me how many so-called professionals will say, “At least it’s only ----‘s family, it’s not like they had much promise anyway.” No. Just no.

You see, there are even further reaching implications than hierarchies compounding victim-blaming. The idea that some people are more deserving of assault than others is in direct opposition to equality. If we believe in equal rights for any group, we need to believe in equality for all. How can I support feminism and the idea that all humans are equal if I don’t consider that child to be just as deserving of safety and love as every other child in my school? How can I support equal rights for all people if I won’t even afford myself the same dignity as I afford others?

Challenging others starts with challenging ourselves. How do we respond to others and how do we respond to our own situations? Do we allow ourselves healing time? Do we allow ourselves to care? Because believing in our own rights and equality, believing in our own right to safety and compassion, is an important step in challenging the hierarchy and victim-blaming culture.

There is no “right victim”, not even me.

The Right Victim was written as a submission for EVB Campaign's website, which they are posting on 20th February 2014.

Nottingham Women's Conference 2013

As Finn MacKay told us at the start of Nottingham Women's Conference 2013 (also known as NWC2013), Nottingham is one of only a few cities that retains a feminist liberation network, and this conference was the first in the city for more than twenty years.

The event started on a high, MacKay introducing many women new to feminism to key issues that affect us, such as only 20% representation in UK government, 15-19% pay gap remaining even 40 years after equal pay legislation came into effect, the 3 million women affected by male violence each year and much more. Did you realise that there are more licensed lap dancing clubs in this country than rape crisis centres?

We were left with a challenge, for all those embarrassed by feminism and feminists. What is embarrassing about demanding basic human rights for all?

This was followed by addresses from three key speakers. Pragna Patel spoke eloquently on behalf of the Southall Black Sisters about her 34 year old organisation that supports women with a whole range of gender inequality issues. She spoke about their achievements in the forced marriage act and concessions in immigration law, as well as how immigration issues and criminalisation are intertwined with gender-based violence and inequality. We heard of of the dichotomy of familial roles in feminism, that they perpetuate and enforce inequality, yet also provide protection against it. And we were told of the importance of contextualisation, that feminism is not a clinical theory and needs to be discussed in a political context.

The second speaker, Dr Julia Long, spoke about objectification and how it disguises as much as it conveys. She showed how it normalises violence against women and how physical objectification (such as beauty regimes and fashion choices) are used to moderate and control not only physical abilities, but our intellectual and creative potential. Long showed the relationship between a dominant and subordinate group through three main factors; violence (asserting dominance), objectification (removing humanity) and submission (disguise and compliance). If women don't buy into the "dream", the subordination doesn't work. Long was a powerful and emotive speaker, telling the gathered women that, "ultimately, to render a person as an object is to kill them. It is about reducing us to dead bodies."

We also heard from Chris Herries, the chair of the Co-Operatives UK group, who spoke at length about the history of the Co-Op and how women have been involved. She, interestingly, agreed that the "lads mags" sold by the stores are indeed pornographic, and that we should all become members so we can complain, campaign and change as joint owners of the corporation.

All three women raised an important point, that resurfaced throughout the day in various workshops. Male violence against women, societal enforcement of gender-inequality against women is a huge problem that needs to be named. Though Theresa May and other politicians are telling us that they acknowledge the problem and the significant and disproportionate effect on women, they are trying to promote a gender-neutral approach. They want to discuss violence. They want to discuss forced marriage. They don't want to discuss who is doing what to whom. But if we remove the gender-issue, we a removing part of the problem, we are hiding it from view. We need to address it, name it and keep talking.

Lunch was a wonderful opportunity to network, and I got the opportunity to meet with people working in schools, organisations such as Equation, and the wonderful Roweena Russell, who already feels like a sister!

The afternoon was split into various workshops, run by different organisations. The first I attended was run by the End Victim Blaming campaign. We looked at the definition of victim blaming as well as exploring our own frame of reference and how that affects our ideas and attitudes. I took away several things from the workshop, including the idea of a group learning agreement and some of the things to include in it. I will be using that one tomorrow!

We are, as individuals, all controlled in our response to victim blaming by a personal frame of reference. This includes both internal and external factors and affects thoughts, feelings and behaviour. Our frame of reference is not fixed, but it can be hard to change.

For example, as a child I was constantly told that I would never be attacked because I didn't look pretty and I wasn't dainty. The consequence of this message was that I believed that I must have been responsible for my experience, because I couldn't identify with the idea of sexual assault. Another example given by EVB was the media's portrayal of a case, saying that a woman had been "flirting all night" which led to her policing her own behaviour and that of others.

We get messages from everywhere, from the fact that women are targeted about postal safety, that girls are taught in schools, messages from other women, even. Our culture grooms young women to believe in Prince Charming and fairy tales. Men are seen as our salvation, so it must be us who are broken.

We're not.

It was a deeply personal workshop for many of us. Though I now speak openly about my experience of rape eight years ago, and am starting to speak about my experience six weeks ago, it is still a challenge. And the thought of discussing personal references with strangers left me physically sick and shaking, a reaction that I've not felt in quite some time! Some women were braver than me, though. They shared their experiences and they were thoroughly supported in that environment.

We were left with advice, advice that seems simple and obvious, but advice that need to be taken. How can we support victims and start to challenge victim blaming?

1. Acknowledge and challenge our own beliefs.

2. Respectfull challenge others.

3. Change our own language.

4. Complain to the Pess Complaints Commission and services when we see victim blaming in media.

5. Believe and support victims. Tell them that you believe them.

6. Support EVB Campaign and spread the word.

I can't speak about the next section of the event, as I decided to take some time out for self-care at this point in the day. It was an incredibly useful time for me to reflect and take stock of what I had learnt and where I was emotionally. D and all at Nottingham Rape Crisis have taught me well!

I went back in for part of the campaign planning session, where a myriad of local and national causes were represented. Everything from fighting bedroom tax to the No More Page Three campaign, from writing a feminist publication to a female skills base... It was all there.

The second round of workshops meant going to see Equation for me. Equation works with young people on a range of sensitive issues, such s violence and self-esteem. The session was based around their secondary targeted Know More campaign and the importance of female networks.

Using NSPCC statistics, Equation stated that 27% of teenage girls have been raped and that 90% of domestic violence incidents have been witnessed by children. Again, they asserted the problem of gender-neutrality approaches to VAWG issues.

We were introduced to different protective factors which help young women avoid or cope with violence and were statistically proven. These were:

1) self esteem

2) belief in their own ability to cope

3) ability to deal with change

4) ability to problem solve

There were also existing factors, which included:

1) family cohesion

2) presence of at least one consistent adult in their lives

3) a close bond with the survivor (if violence had been witnessed)

4) strong support networks

5) out of school activities

We were told about the importance of female support networks and how they decrease isolation, provide a check-in point, enable girls to identify support and let them see value in being a women. It reminded me of how invaluable Girlguiding and other femal-only space really is, when it is used well! 

Social messaging also featured as an important part of the mix, how the genders are engaged in competition and taught differently about their worth and competency, as well as taught that girls shouldn't trust each other. Our society is constantly trying to break the bonds between women and isolate us.

Equation spoke to us about how creativity is essential in memorable projects with young women, and how it builds esteem. Their Know More project (looking at emotions, choices, aspirations and relationships) helped young women change how they saw themselves and others, improved friendships and how they lt about being a woman.

The closing remarks of the conference reinforced the message that we had been hearing all day. It is not feminism that silences women, it's the men that rape and abuse women who are trying to silence them.

I know there has been controversy surrounding the event, and I know it is likely to arise here, given what I've already experienced on Twitter. What I want to focus on now, though, is the opportunity that NWC2013 gave women to come and explore feminism in Nottingham, whether they have been feminists for years or have not explored issues before. The event was massively over-subscribed, which is a testament to just how much interest and demand there is for these conferences, and a number of organisations and speakers who could have delivered workshops were encouraged to run fringe events as an alternative because the organisers simply did not have the room physically or temporally!

If there is anyone who wants to get involved, there is still time. There are fringe events running into next month, and I am sure planning will soon be underway for next year's event.

For now, though, I'm going to go and hide... At least until tomorrow!

10 Hours 45 Minutes

Ten hours and forty five minutes.

That’s ten hours and forty five minutes without sitting down, without leaning on a desk, without going for a toilet break, without lunch, without taking questions.

These are the lengths that some women – that ONE woman – will go to in order to protect the rights and the safety of their sisters. And those are extraordinary lengths (take it from a teacher who would love to be able to achieve those things on a daily basis!).

For those that have missed the many articles surrounding this case, a senator in Texas, Wendy Davis, intended to speak for 13 hours. This was because the state authorities had a deadline of midnight to pass a bill that put extremely prohibitive laws on abortion. By speaking for 13 hours, Wendy Davis would have made them miss the deadline, ensuring that the predominantly right-wing house couldn't vote to enforce the new laws.

She fell a little short of this 13 hour goal, mainly because the republican opposition managed to file enough complaints against her, a few of which were upheld. But one woman (Senator Leticia Van de Putte) followed with the statement, “Did the President hear me or did the President hear me and refuse to recognise me? At what point must a female senator raise her hand or her voice to be recognised over her male colleagues in the room?” This, naturally, caused a reaction which ultimately led to the passing of the midnight deadline.

Whilst I’m not 100% in the “if you don’t like it, don’t get one” camp (I feel that issues such as abortion are far more complex than that), I don’t believe that blanket prohibitive laws are in the best interest of a nation or, in this case, state.

Legislation doesn’t prevent abortion. It forces women underground. If a woman is absolutely against having a baby, she will do whatever she can to get rid of the foetus, and that jeopardises her life in the process. Yes, it may “save” a few foetuses whose mothers are on the border, but at what cost to their emotional and mental wellbeing? And at what cost to the child? Are we so pro-birth that we abandon all morality when it comes to life? Can you really consider yourself pro-life if you are willing to sacrifice a child’s health and happiness? What sort of “life” is it that you are supporting?

My faith makes the topic of abortion a difficult ground to tread. I believe children are a blessing (despite my job – go figure!) and I believe that God has plans for each and every one of us. But I also think that preventative legislation and constant right-wing preaching will result in people resenting God rather than coming to Him through choice or love.

Back in 2005, I discovered that I was pregnant. I didn’t know (and I will never be 100% certain) whether that pregnancy was a result of my rape or my fiancé. The likelihood is that it was the former, considering precautions. When I discovered this, I had a huge decision to make. I was a student at the time, and in no real position to raise a child. How would I feed her (I later discovered she was a girl), how would I clothe her, and what support options did I have in terms of childcare?

That was just the practical side. How would I cope looking at that little girl every day of my life, knowing where she came from? This is regardless of who her father was – because ANY sort of physical intimacy or memory was incredibly painful. And that was if I even had a life with which to reflect on it. I was born with kidney scarring which leads to high blood pressure with potentially life-threatening consequences during pregnancy. I was advised as a teenager never to have children.

Despite my beliefs that I was pregnant for a reason, I had to think of the potential future for both myself and the girl. I went to the relevant specialist to try and make an appointment and my heart was heavy.

I didn't have an abortion in the end. I went and had to make my way through the waiting “respectful prayer group”. I felt ashamed and embarrassed. What right had this group to pass judgement on my situation and my decision? Had any of them experienced what was going through? Once I made it inside, I was told (though I think it must have been lost in translation somewhere) that there was an eleven month waiting list. After that, I didn't have the heart or the confidence to find somewhere else or through with it.

I don’t believe that abortion is as black and white as some would have us believe. Yes, some will regret the choice to abort, but what we need to ensure is the appropriate support services so that women can access the information they need. This may be available in the UK, but it was the German system that I encountered personally. It is essential that we consider both the physical and psychological well-being of all involved, at all points.

So how do I reconcile my belief in God with my belief in women’s choice? Very simply through prayer and compassion. God is love and we need to show that for our sisters. And that includes in not shaming them outside centres and surgeries. Even with the most well-intentioned prayer groups, we need to consider the emotional impact that it will have and where our actions lead. It is not a case of denying my God or of being “overly-PC” (as I have heard many faith issues described in the past weeks), but rather of understanding my calling as one of gentleness and respect, and ministry through example and kindness.

Whilst on the subject of God, faith and family planning, I just want to drop in a comment / story that both horrified and amused me this week. I heard Julie Bentley described as “not only anti-God, but an agent of Satan, as proven by her family planning work”. Far from it proving an allegiance to Satan, or even being anti-God, surely the compassion and dedication that Julie shows in her various causes and charities shows a commitment to a moral framework and the ideal of thinking outside the self, regardless of her religious beliefs!

But in the story of Wendy Davis and her colleagues, I feel it important to note that it wasn't necessarily the cause itself that grabbed my attention, nor the fact that (yet again) women had to fight against men about legislation that affects them. What really grabbed my attention was the fight, the commitment, what women can and will do for a cause they are passionate about.

I like to think that I am strong-willed and prepared to fight. But, realistically, how far am I willing to push any given issue? The reality is that I won’t push very far. My work always seems to come first, and I have to be careful not to do anything that risks me getting arrested or put in a position of shaming the school that I work for (leading to dismissal).

Would I speak for almost eleven hours to stop a bill going through? Only if I could realistically assure myself that I wouldn't be forcibly removed or arrested. Would I risk going onto a racecourse to hang a scarf like Emily Wilding Davison did? Probably not. I would be far too worried about injury to myself, to the horse and to the rider.

As time goes on, I feel that I am pushing further into territory in which I do feel uncomfortable. I’m starting to speak out using personal examples, I’m going to be speaking at an event in London this summer and I am working with the Nottingham Feminist Network on events in the city. Maybe one day, I will have the strength to show the sort of courage that these female senators in Texas showed today.

Passion transforms people. It gives them hope, strength, motivation. It fills them with emotions that can be harnessed to transform the lives of other people, to create a wave. In the face of a strong patriarchal resistance, these women didn’t let it wash over them, but inspired each other to fight and stand up for the rights of others. I only hope it inspires more women to do the same.

Religion, Class & Nationality

“The sort of families who are involved in Guiding and have the money to do it are Christian anyway, and those families with no money and on benefits don’t give a shit about Guiding anyway!”

“We need to stop pandering to people with other religions, they need to show respect for our religion and culture. They need to learn to live here, or go back home. And Guiding is such an English thing, why would they be interested anyway?”

These are the views of my Unit Leader, who is well known in our area for her strong opinions and rather blunt phrasing. Most of us have learnt just to shrug our shoulders and let her get on with it, but I’ve noticed that this is actually a more common attitude amongst Leaders than I originally thought.

You see, it all seems to centre on the idea that religion is based upon class and nationality. It isn’t.

M tried to argue that only the well off can afford to give up their Sunday for church, and do so for social status rather than a love of God. This may happen in some areas, but I would argue that this is not the core group of Christians. In all the churches I have been part of, the congregations have been full of vibrant, enthusiastic individuals searching for fellowship and support in their journey with God.

God has never been picky about wealth. After all, it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God (something so important and fundamental to teaching that it is reported in the gospel according to Luke, Matthew and Mark. Three times!). Those with wealth are often too focused on their Earthly goods, and not on the riches of heaven (and so are many of us less rich people too, I must admit!). And is Christianity really about attendance at church, or is it about leading life as a follower of Christ, with your Lord at the centre?

Are all atheists living in abject poverty, as M suggested? I doubt Richard Dawkins is that badly off, though my lovely teacher friend would probably agree that she could do with a little more money! And what about those who follow Islam, Hinduism, Sikhism, Buddhism or Judaism?

Spiritual belief is a personal journey. Some religions, due to the values that they practice and develop, will lead their followers to certain jobs or to do those jobs in certain ways. Those that think outside the self are more inclined to vocational work, for example. But vocational professions are not necessarily well paid, nor badly paid – it depends entirely on which is being discussed.

An interesting survey in 2009 found that, in fact, the majority of theists came from “lower socio-economic grades” whereas the majority of atheists were from wealthier backgrounds. I am dubious to accept this without looking at the raw data, but find it interesting that the opposite of the national stereotype appears to be true.

As for nationality and religion being intrinsically linked, exposure to a religion in culture does affect one’s beliefs, but this is not the sole cause of spiritual belief, nor is it right to assume that all people of non-Christian belief come from other countries.

A survey by Faith Matters, for example, estimates that approximately 5000 people in Britain convert to Islam each year and the 2011 census records 1.2 million muslims born in the UK. The new British Sikh report shows that 50% of Sikhs in Britain consider themselves to be “British Sikhs” and a further 15.6% and 2% to be English and Scottish Sikhs respectively.

Interestingly, the religion that has had the biggest “boost” due to migration is Christianity, rather than any of the others, and the least “ethnically diverse” group was those who answered “no religion” in the census!

Of course, there is a third issue in M’s quote, which (knowing the demographic of those reading) probably doesn’t need addressing, but I will for the sake of clarity.

Girlguiding welcomes girls and young women from all backgrounds. Not just all religions, but regardless of financial circumstances. Despite what some Leaders will tell you, Guiding wear is not a requirement for membership and we would rather have girls in our units than put off by an expense. Despite what some Leaders will tell you, if there are difficult circumstances, we have access to grants both within the organisation and in the local community. Guiding is not about money, it’s about access to new experiences and opportunities and the development of the individual.

I’ve heard several Leaders threatening to quit and close their units whilst spouting this sort of hatred. As much as I would hate to see girls lose out as a result of this, and despise seeing units close, I think that the Leaders in question DO need to re-assess what Girlguiding is, what it means to them and whether they really are capable of delivering the sort of equality and development that has always been expected of them.

Teenage Identities

One of the things about working with young people is that their conviction and passion constantly challenges your own beliefs and actions. Far from being the disinterested, apathetic and socially destructive teenagers and young adults that the media perceives them to be, they are (on the whole) perceptive, motivated and creative. These young people are more than aware of the damage that their predecessors are doing, which remove them ever further from their ideal society. They want to speak out, campaign for change, but they don't always understand how to harness that voice so the society that disrespects them so much stops to listen. Anyone spending time with this age group will see this passion in them, and will see the staggering maturity with which they speak - often far outstripping that of their "adult" counterparts. I consider myself privileged to witness this on a weekly basis, and was incredibly proud of last night's discussion. 

Before Easter, one of my members contacted me to say that she would be having a romantic night in with her girlfriend. Last night, she confessed that she had been trying to gauge opinion and adult reaction to it, and was confused by mine. She had expected an offer of support, or perhaps shock, admonishment about it being a phase, but any form of acknowledgment other than the simple "have fun" that she received.

Last night, she also "came out" to the rest of the group, in her own way and on her own terms. Less of a "coming out" than just telling them she had a girlfriend. But that is no easy thing to do for a teenager amongst her peers, however it happens. Her phrasing was, "I'm a girl who has a girlfriend, but it doesn't make me a lesbian. It doesn't even make me bisexual. Sexual identity isn't about labels, it's about individuals, attraction and comfort."

They discussed a girl (their choice of terminology) at their college who always introduces herslelf, "Hi, I'm X and I'm a lesbian". R said it was almost as if the fact she likes women is as important as her name, that it defined her as much as - perhaps more than - what she's called.

The conversation progressed and H commented on the importance of sexual identity to teenagers. At school, in their social groups, at home, they are defined by family, friends and enemies like by their relationships and romantic interactions. If they have a "steady" boyfriend, they are successful, and if they date different people, they are considered "dirty".

And it's not just peer pressure to have a boyfriend, but media too. Magazines are full of quizzes about dream boys, how to attract a boyfriend, what men want and how to please them. Films seem to centre around the old "boy meets girl" story, and princesses always find their true love in the end. Even music revolves around the struggles and celebrations of teen romance.

With this in mind, they told me, can't we say that sexual identity is actually central to the majority of teenagers, regardless of what that sexuality may be? Is the "Hi, I'm a lesbian" approach really that different to the everyday ways in which heterosexual teenagers allow themselves to be defined by their sexuality?

Having identified this need to claim sexuality as identity - already a staggering discussion with fantastic insight from the 14 year old members who really led it - they went a step further.

"To paraphrase Doctor Who," explained 17 year old A, "Sexuality isn't a straight line (pardon the pun), but a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, sexuality.... stuff."

R added, "I don't want to be put in a box according to who I date. Just as I don't feel comfortable with denominational labels. I am a person; wonderful and unique. Surely these sexual identity labels are just an extension of everyday sexism."

"To go around introducing myself as a lesbian," one member continued, "would be disrespectful and negate all the other things I've achieved. I'm an artist, a student, a daughter, a sister and a Guide. How is any of that less important than who I date?"

Eventually, the member who started the conversation with her "revelation" breathed a sigh of relief. 

"I was a bit worried you'd be funny about it," she admitted to them, as they laughed and hugged her.

"Why would we?" asked L. "You're still the same person you always were."

She was more than a little surprised at this. "But you don't think I fancy you all?"

"Why would we?" R asked, shaking her head. "That's like saying I fancy that old bloke over there, just because he's male! It doesn't work like that."

"That's what M keeps saying at school," the girl sighed sadly. "I always wish they understood like you guys. I'm so glad I've got Rangers."

And so am I.

A Woman's Job...

We all sat in the school library. I say library, but it was an empty room in the eaves of a Victorian school building, with a couple of bookshelves, white walls and beige carpets. It wasn't used so much as a library, as a music room, performance space and general shepherding area.

I can't quite remember why we were herded in there; perhaps it was an assembly, perhaps singing practice, perhaps it was recorder group. But I remember sitting with my friend Kate, who I had known since we were babies, and telling her the worst joke ever (What did the big chimney say to the little chimney? You're too young to smoke).

And then we heard the teachers talking. Margaret Thatcher was no longer Prime Minister, she had been succeeded by John Major. We had a new PM and the dark days were over.

As a six year old girl, I had no idea what they meant by dark days. I had seen pictures of war ships on the news and documentaries, and had heard things, but you really don't understand at age six. My concern was bigger than that.

"Are you sure?" I asked Miss H. Miss H was a lovely, kind teacher who we all thought looked like a magic fairy. "It doesn't sound right."

She assured me it was the case, and I remember being thoroughly confused.

"But John is a man's name, isn't it?" I had been certain, but if he was a man then something was wrong. "And that can't be right. Because the Prime Minister is a woman's job, just like the Queen. Only women can have the most important jobs."

That was the world I grew up in. The two most important offices in the country were held by women. I never for a moment doubted that women could achieve and reach the top of their careers. In fact, I was dubious that men could hold these jobs. I grew up in a world where we wanted to be politicians, dentists, geologists, doctors, mechanics and plumbers, and I grew up in a world where we were skeptical of the Disney princesses and the need for a Prince Charming - girls could save themselves!

Love or loathe the policies, this was the true legacy that Margaret Thatcher left behind for a generation of young girls. A legacy of power. It would be naive to say she removed the ceiling for women entirely, but she changed an impenetrable concrete one into a more fragile glass ceiling, one that we have a chance at shattering.

 Many around the country speak of celebration, that they will hold parties in honour of her death. It saddens me that anyone would do so, particularly women. No joy comes from a story such as this; the joy of death is indirect, it comes from change and not the death itself. If people are freed by a leader's death, that is the origin of the celebration. But no change, no joy comes from this. Only, perhaps, a sense of peace for those that were irrevocably hurt by her policies.

For me, though, she will always be the first Prime Minister that I knew; the lady that meant - from a young age - that I was aware of my potential as a human being, not just as a woman. And though I may disagree with her politically, I respect the legacy of power she's left behind for a generation, and for generations to come.

Orientation & Community

As a young person beginning to come out, I loved the sense of community and identity that labels provided. It was safety in numbers and, more importantly, the knowledge that I wasn't alone or abnormal.

I spent a couple of years experimenting to see where I fitted in. First, I tried cutting my hair short, wearing baggy jeans and tight vest tops, dog tags and big boots. But my boobs were always too big to really go in for the masculine approach, and it didn't really feel like me. I was a girl, why shouldn't I look like one?

I then went to the other extreme, wearing floaty skirts, lots of jewellery and make up, growing my hair back out. But somehow, that didn't feel true to myself either.

My first two years at university, I went out clubbing and was part of the scene, but didn't fit comfortably into any of the tribes. I was too feminine to be classed as "butch", but too masculine to be classed as "femme". And I certainly didn't come under the "androgynous" banner. Other women didn't know what to make of me,and I didn't know what to make of myself. 

Events of my third year shattered any sense of identity that I had, and I am (perhaps surprisingly) grateful for that change. 

In the years following my year abroad, I've found community identity fascinating but not essential. I no longer see myself as a member of the LGBT "community" and, generally, will describe my sexual orientation as "someone who likes women" rather than "lesbian" (lesbian is generally used when I need shorthand or when I'm trying to convey a message to certain people who might not understand or accept other phrasings).

Similarly, in the sci-fi and fantasy community, where a whole range of subcultures and hierarchies exist (Twilight at the bottom, Doctor Who being dominant but not necessarily "top"), I constantly surprise people by not adhering to a certain stereotype or staying within a certain group, but by enjoying different areas of fandom, such as steampunk, comics and Misfits.

The thing is, I'm not a label. I'm not a stereotype, I'm not that simple. I'm me.

The main difference between my sci-fi community and the LGBT one is that I do view my love of science-fiction and involvement in their events as part of me and my identity, whereas my sexual orientation is no more than who I am attracted to. It has formed part of me, because I have allowed it to (as you can see from reading this), but I don't think whether I am romantically involved with men or women defines me as a person.

So when on a date and told, "I don't usually date femmes", I bristled. A lot. Because I don't identify as a "femme" at all; the term carries weight and assumption. 

In the current, widespread definition of "femme", I suppose I am one. I can be mistaken as a heterosexual woman. But this definition is the antithesis of everything I believe in; that sexual orientation itself doesn't create identity or vice versa, that it is a separate part that doesn't affect one's personality or lifestyle (don't get me started on "LGBT lifestyle").

But the most important part of my indignation was not the assumption that I identified with this subculture, but the insistence that I did. I had already said to this woman that I don't identify as "femme", that I am probably found in activity trousers and hoodies far more often than dresses, and that my hair is long so that it can be tied back out of the way - easier than styling! And yet she continued to address me as "femme".

She made it seem like a dirty word, like a thinly veiled insult. And in the same breath, she called me beautiful, intriguing and fascinating. She said I wasn't like "other femmes". Perhaps because I'm not one?

Some people cannot get past the idea that you have to adhere to one of these "tribes". Even my mother feels uncomfortable that I don't fit into either of her ideas of a lesbian. And yet, until we can get past this fixation that orientation makes a person, how do we expect equality and to be treated "like anyone else".

How many people go round saying, "Hi, I'm Katie and I'm a heterosexual woman"? And yet, you'll often find women who say, "Hi, I'm Katie and I'm a lesbian". You may be chortling and thinking it doesn't happen, but it does. And scarily often.

Because heterosexuality doesn't define someone's identity. Who can describe what a heterosexual woman looks like? And yet people assume that homosexuality does, and they think they can describe the key features of homosexual individuals just by that one person.

This fixation on LGBT community and identity frustrates me as well as intrigues me. I can see where it's come from, how it developed, how important a sense of belonging felt - and still feels to many. But by segregating themselves from the rest of society, by having their own bars and restaurants, by insisting on this adherence to stereotypes, there is a very real danger that they will alienate themselves from the very same society by which they strive to be accepted.

Fundamentally, however, these communities are an important part of self-discovery and acceptance in a society where minority sexual orientation and identity is still deemed abnormal and, by some, abhorrent. What they need to do, and what individuals need to do, is to accept that their parameters aren't finite, and that identity is personal and undefinable, and support each other in their chosen paths rather than undermine those that do not "fit".

Find a Husband? No Thanks!

I will always remember my very first French class at university, though for entirely the wrong reasons. There was a mature woman in our group, who spent almost the entire hour ranting about how young people shouldn't go to university, that we didn't have the capacity to understand or appreciate it. She told the lecturer that I (yes, she singled me out for her tirade) ought to go and find myself a husband, have some children and go back to university when I had the life experience and dignity to accept the great privilege of education.The lecturer nodded, smiled and made affirmative noises, which got me even more irate.

My anger at this wasn't at any single point, rather the message as a whole. It was the assumption that age equals maturity, the idea that young people aren't capable of appreciating education, the assumption that I was heterosexual, the idea that I wanted a husband and children.

And I haven't entirely lost that sense of outrage and indignation, as the Susan Patton case (and Joanna Moorehead's article) shows.

I have absolutely no qualms in a woman telling students that academia isn't everything, that there is more to life than a career. One of the best pieces of advice in my life (so far) came from a wonderful man who told me, "You work to live, not live to work". In fact, I encourage that perspective, as over-competitiveness between women in industry is rife and I see it encouraged by some as a way of undermining any sort of solidarity.

What I cannot condone, however, is the societal attitude that we need to be married to be "complete". Whilst, as humans, we do crave interaction and relationships, that can be fulfilled by friendship as well as in physically intimate and romantic relationships. And, for some, the friendship is enough.

Our culture already places a disproportionate amount of pressure on women to settle down, find their "prince" and live "happily ever after". Just look at the social conditioning girls receive from an early age; fairytales, pantomimes, films, musicals, even pop songs. Every step of the way, they are shown that successful women get a man in the end, that only evil women end up single, that to be alone is failure. But it's not.

Yesterday, my grandparents were beside themselves because my younger sister has a boyfriend and I'm still single (I've had three fiancés, it's not really worked out). They lamented that I have no hope now, because I'm too old, because I'm too independent, because I think too much. They were so upset that a relationship and children are not a priority for me.

But I have different dreams for my life. I want to make a difference to others, whether that's practically in education, or by inspiring others to take a step in things that I say or write. I want to do well in my career and make sure that future generations get the support they deserve whilst at school. I want friendship and fun. If I find someone who can accept that, and who can accept me, and we do click, then a relationship isn't off the table. Children are not off the table. But is it really so selfish and wrong for that not to be my number one aim in life?

Fundamentally, I agree with both Moorehead and Patton in their assertion that feminism is about equality and happiness in all areas of life, not just about career and money. But there is a huge difference between promoting that balance and urging women to find husbands, perpetuating a ridiculous societal pressure.

The thing is, we as women, we as feminists, we need to be challenging these perceptions, not encouraging them. We don't need to tell students to hurry up and find their husbands, we need to tell them that their career isn't everything and they need to think about friendships, networks, their support. We don't need to tell girls that they are failures if they don't find a man, we need to tell them that they are successes if they are happy. And we need to show them that happiness can exist outside the parameters of a traditional marriage.

Great Britons

My father is a great stamp collector and has often lamented the lack of interest my sister and I have shown in the subject. In the last few years, since collecting television and film memorabilia (particularly props and autographs), some of these areas have overlapped. My father is incredibly jealous of my Alexei Leonov autograph (first man to walk in space) and my Sylvia Anderson one (never mind the fact that I actually held some of the original Thunderbirds puppets!). In turn, I've made him promise to leave me his Gerry Anderson cover once he's gone.

These days, I do flick through his leaflets and catalogues to see what the latest offerings are, and he often asks me if he's getting good value for money on autographed items (such as the 50th anniversary Dr Who covers). 

Royal Mail's 2013 "Great Britons"

So, this morning I was perusing the catalogues when I found a collection entitled "Great Britons". These sorts of sets interest me, as I always wonder who they've chosen and why. What is it that makes someone inspirational enough to make one of these lists?

But as I looked through, I noticed an inequality. On first glance, I only noticed two women (there are, in fact, three). But why three women and seven men? Are there not enough inspirational and influential women in the history of Britain? I doubt it. 

One could argue that in terms of visibility, men have historically been more visible in influential jobs in Britain and, therefore, this is reflected in the choice of personalities on their stamps. But, I think this really undermines and neglects to acknowledge the work of women in this country. We make up 50% of the population, why not 50% of the collection?

I noticed that the collection is the third in a series commemorating pivotal figures in society. Out of curiosity, I decided to find out whether this inequality reached over the other covers or not. I found that over the series, 21 stamps were dedicated to men, and only 9 to women.

The women featured on these stamps are, undoubtedly, influential in their fields; Elizabeth David, Mary Leakey, Vivien Leigh, Mary Morris, Odette Sansom Hallowe, Kathleen Ferrier, Joan Mary Fry, Mary Wollstonecraft and Judy Fryd.

But there are so many more inspiring women in our history.

Elizabeth Garrett Anderson was not only the first female doctor in Great Britain, but the first dean of a medical school. She was also the first female mayor and magistrate in England. Her work opened up the profession to women, but also changed the way in which doctors were trained, in which university hospitals worked and how patients were treated.

Lilian Bayliss was the manager of the Old Vic, producing Shakespeare plays and founding what were to become the National Ballet, National Theatre and English National Opera. If that's not influential in your field, what is?

Agatha Christie is known the world over as a novelist and has produced works that are synonymous with English crime writing. She's also been the subject of an episode of Doctor Who!

Margaret Damer Dawson was the forerunner of female police officers. She formed a group of volunteers in London during the first world war.

Rosalind Franklin, whose images of the double-helix structure of DNA were central to Watson's theories.

Joyce Grenfall, whose monologues and exceptional, unique "voice" made her a household name.

Caroline Harriet Haslett was one of the pioneers of home electricity - not what you'd expect, seeing as electrician is seen by many to be a "male" profession. She was both a campaigner for its use and an electrical engineer herself, and formed groups for female electrical professionals.

Dorothy Hodgkin has saved billions of lives around the world with her pioneering research into insulin and its molecular structure. Without that research, perhaps Franklin, Watson et al wouldn't have made their DNA discoveries.

Amy Johnson, who many know as being the first woman to fly solo to Australia. But she was also influential in the history of aviation in general, being one of two pilots to first fly to Moscow in a day, setting records flying to India and South Africa. She was more than just "that woman pilot".

Jane Lane Claypon did some of the first studies and research into breast cancer, and was one of the first epidemiologists. She introduced the idea of using control subjects in health tests.

The Pankhurst women are synonymous with feminism, suffrage and politics. Though their aggressive style of activism may not be to everyone's taste, it's undoubtedly influential in the country's history.

Mary Quant is a household name when it comes to fashion. And the mini-skirt has been one of the major changes in 20th century clothing.

Anita Roddick was the founder of The Body Shop and amongst the first to ban animal testing for products. This decision has influenced hundreds of other companies and her campaigning has changed the way we think every day.

Marie Stopes who campaigned tirelessly for women's quality within marriage, sex education and opened the first family planning clinic. I can understand why Stopes wouldn't be considered for this collection, given division on these subjects, but she was certainly a pioneer and huge influence in her field.

Vivienne Westwood is a key icon in the British fashion industry, teaming cutting edge punk designs with historical inspiration.

These are but a few women I can think of who have been key in their fields. They are women who aren't names solely for being women, but because they made key contributions regardless of their gender. Some of these achievements may have been inspired by their own experience of sexism, but they are still great achievements in their own right.

I don't want to see a cover with "Great British Women"; I sometimes feel that by segregating women in what are supposed to be "inspiring, feminist" events, we are just drawing attention to and heightening the inequality. What I want to see is women fairly and accurately represented in these features, and recognised for the work they are doing or have done, which is equal to that of their male counterparts. Even if the recognition is over a century late.