The Broken Dolls House

Marriage conundrum…

I recently read an old blog from The F Word in which one feminist explained why she had decided marriage wasn’t for her. I guess her blog hit a nerve with me, because marriage is something I’ve done a lot of pondering over myself recently. Whether I want to get married and, if so, how & why. As many of you know, my feminist ideals burn within me and I find them very difficult to ignore. When it comes to thinking about marriage, I find myself with a vortex of dilemmas and no clear answers as of yet.

Firstly, I need to address something that bugs me regularly. The overwhelming pressure from friends, from family, and society at large that I should get married. We (my partner and I) have got to the point, 5 years in, where everyone we know feels comfortable making digs about when we’re going to to it (actually, more about whenhe’s going to do it - e.g. propose - its naturally assumed of course that as a woman I must be just sitting waiting eagerly for him to pop the question. I’m not btw). I can not underplay the huge pressure there is on women to want to get married, to expect to get married, to obsess about getting married and to ultimately get married. It annoys me that my relationship is not recognised as legitimate without this rite of passage. I’ve known several women whose relationships are of much shorter length than my own, who perhaps married after a year, and yet whose relationships seem to carry far more weight, more external recognition and legitimacy. Not only that, but I feel that married women are often treated differently to unmarried women; as an unmarried woman I feel that I am still often seen as a girl, and my relationship as immature. All of this of course pisses me off. My relationship is essentially no different now, in practical terms, to what it would be if we were to marry. We live together, we share our lives together, we committ to one another. But the world seems to think there’s something missing.

Secondly, I stumble upon some of the many patriarchal facets and connotations of traditional marriage itself.  I know for example that I couldn’t have my dad ‘give me away’. I am not his to give! I am my own. The historical implications of ownership, first by father, then by husband make me balk. Now Iadoremy dad, he is literally the best person alive as far as I’m concerned, and I wouldn’t want to hurt or upset him. But I wouldn’t feel that I was being true to myself to conform to this tradition. Similarly, the white ‘virginial’ dress, indicative of my purity (ahem!); The change of name - something else I just couldn’t do, even the use of the word ‘husband’ - which literally means ‘Master of the house’…all these things just don’t sit right with anything I believe in or stand for. I know that if I did get married my wedding would give more traditionalist family members plenty to moan about. Ultimately I think that those who really love me wouldn’t really mind all that. I think they already think I’m odd, so what’s a little more feminist oddity!? But it does make me wonder, if there’s so much I don’t like about it or want to reject - then maybe it’s the whole thing in fact that I should reject.

I guess my biggest consideration would have to be why I’m thinking about marriage in the first place, and why just rejecting it out of hand still leaves me feeling remiss. I’m in a wonderful relationship, which is coming up to its fifth year. I love my boyfriend and I really do want to have some kind of recognition that he is the one I choose to be my partner. I want the world to see that, and I want the to law to recognise that. I want him to be my official next of kin, and I’d like to be his. I want everyone to know that I am 100% committed to only him. So why not just get married then? Indeed, at the moment, if I do want the law to recognise a special status existing between us - that is theonly option open to me. But when something is the only choice available, it feels a bit unthinking for me to automatically ‘choose’ it.

With the proposed legalisation of gay marriage there has been an awful lot of discussion around what marriage is, and why it exists. This too makes me pause for thought. In many of the discussions I’ve listened to, or articles I’ve read on the matter, I’ve come away feeling wrong about having this ‘privilege’ just because I’m in a heterosexual relationship. Of course, I hope that very soon gay couples will be able to marry too. But the discourse raised by those against it, and their staunch defence of the ‘sanctity’ and sacredness of traditional marriage makes me shudder and want nothing to do with the whole thing myself.
“They have civil partnerships” they say, “it’s essentially the same thing anyway”. Well, if it is - then why can’t I have one too then? And why can’t they have this ‘other’ thing that I can? What is the mysterious element missing from a CP which turns it into a ‘marriage’? Why am I allowed one and not the other? And when (hopefully soon) gay marriage is allowed in this country will this make me feel any different?

To read this you’d think I’m a hardened unromantic. Which is soo far from the truth…I’m the worst at weddings!! I’m the first to start crying, and the last to stop - and this includes weddings on TV, in films and in books - as well as ones I actually attend! I LOVE the public declaration of love, of ‘we choose each other’; the promise of intent to care for and look out for each other forever. And I love it because that is how I feel about my partner, and I would gladly stand on a mountain top and tell it to the whole world! I’d love for us to stand up in front of everyone we know and show them all how much we mean to each other, that we are partners. Can I do this without a wedding? Must I do this for my relationship to be validated?

Similarly, the little girl inside me (brought up very much in our particular society, with all its expectations and norms) wouldlove the beautiful wedding, the dress, the flowers, the first dance. I’ve watched too many wedding romcoms and episodes of ‘Don’t Tell the Bride’ to have not fantasised often about how I would domy special day. But all of this just leaves me in more of a quandry! I cannot ignore something once the thought has taken seed…and I’m not sure now what it is I want or why. I instinctively feel that when I want the big wedding, it’s a bit like when I want to be size 8 with big boobs….it’s what society has taught me to want. But not really what I need and not really what my feminist values lead me to conclude is best.

At the moment I think we’re quite happy ‘not getting married’ and will have to bat off the constant pressures from those around us that we should be. When I think about this, more often than not the conclusion I end up with is that what I actually want is a Civil Partnership. This is free from the stereotypical male/female roles associated with traditional marriage and the historical patriarchy of the insitution, it explains what we are: ‘partners’, and it would give us the legal recognition and protections that I desire to share. But guess what? I can’t have one of them.

I think every couple should be allowed to decide what is best for them, what most suits their own personalities, politics and beliefs. For me, it seems there’s nothing that quite fits the bill out there at the moment. For many gay couples, the thing that would fit the bill, they are barred from. You can find out more about some of this at Equal Love, which campaigns for gay marriage and hetero CPs. Please also sign their petition for equal love rights for all!

A slightly furious rant…

I have removed this blog now. I’m glad I said it, but didn’t want it to be out there in the world for too long…. And I’m slightly less furious now.

Beautiful bodies in ‘The House of Tolerance’

Often when you go to see a film there is one element of it that resonates within you somewhere, and keeps coming back to you in the days after; some impact that the film has upon you which reverberates through your consciousness.

This week I went to see a french film called ‘The House of Tolerance’ (L’Apollonide: Souvenirs de la Maison Close). The film was about a Parisian brothel at the turn of the twentieth century. I went mainly because I was intrigued by how the subject of prostitution would be covered, and I thought it may prove an interesting subject matter to discuss with my feminist group.

However, the thing that has stuck with me through the rest of this week was nothing to do with the themes covered in the film, but more to do with what I saw on screen. The women who play the Victorian prostitutes in ‘House of Tolerance’ were beautiful. What has formed the most lasting impression on me is seeing these women naked. Accurately portraying women of the era they were unshaven (pits & bits), they were un-enhanced by surgical procedures, and, appropriately for the roles they were playing, they were uninhibited when undressed.

As I watched these natural bodies move across the screen it was like a spring of refreshing water. In contrast to the women’s bodies that are typically displayed on screen in films and TV shows today, these women were real. And they were so sexy! Women with pubic hair; with curves; without curves; with small boobs; with big boobs…with confidence. They looked stunning.

Without wishing to overshare, in the days since I saw the movie I have felt so sexy naked! Seeing these women on screen, in all their glorious, normal nakedness made me look at myself in a similar way. This is not the normal reaction I have to women in films…Hollywood women & TV stars normally make me feel the opposite. I normally feel inadequate when i see the perfect, dimple free, hair free, toned, tanned, size 8 bodies most women in movies have. I feel the annoying, and re-occuring urge to diet. I feel unsexy in comparison. This, I rather feel, is the norm for the vast majority of women. We are fenced in by an army of near-cloned super beauties, all fitting the one norm - a norm which is heralded as IT: ‘This is what you should look like; this is what is sexy; you need to be like this’ - ‘This’ is not what I am. And so a sense of ‘not quite good enough’ descends upon a population of normal, actually perfectly beautifully-bodied, women.

I dared to imagine how different things might be if every portrayal of women on screen was as naturally beautiful as the actresses in ‘House of Tolerance’. Maybe instead of an epidemic of eating disorders, we would have a generation of women comfortable and confident in their beautiful bodies. Maybe instead of women spending thousands of pounds, and hundreds of hours on making themselves look ‘better’, we would have a host of women enjoying their lives and their beautiful bodies. Maybe instead of the tanning, waxing, shaving, plucking, dieting, botoxing, painting, implanting, suctioning, nipping & tucking women currently put themselves through…we would just look at ourselves, just as we are and say ‘yes, i like you’. Certainly after one (quite intense) dose of this treatment myself I feel measurably more cocky about how great, and hot, my body is!

Anti-Street Harassment Week

This week, from 18th - 24th March, is International Anti-Street Harassment Week (http://www.meetusonthestreet.org/). The event has grown from an Anti-Steet Harassment day in previous years, to a whole week dedicated to raising awareness of, and seeking to end, street harassment in it’s many guises. It’s grown to a weeklong event because of the massive response in the past from countless women around the world who have all experienced street harassment.

Coincidentally street harassment has been making the news here in recent press. On International Women’s Day last week David Cameron announced that the UK government has signed up to the Council of Europe’s Convention on Violence Against Women & Domestic Violence. The vast majority of media coverage of this has zoned in on a couple of sentences in the Covention which pledge to make illegal ‘unwanted verbal, non-verbal or physical conduct with the purpose of effect of violating the dignity of a person, in particular when creating an intimidating, hostile, degrading, humiliating or offensive environment’. Tabloids, Tweets and talk shows joined the flurry of concern over the fact that this could effectively ban wolf whistling (shock, horror!) Firstly, I feel that this has detracted our attention from the fact that the Convention is aimed at tackling a much broader range of issues, from domestic violence, to rape, to female genital mutilation and forced marriage. Issues which are grave and horrendous, and very, very real for many women across Europe. That our government took so long to sign up to the convention is the only puzzlement (it was created almost a year ago). Secondly however, if wolf whistling and other forms of street harassment are caught in the far reaching net of the convention, then all the better. Because yes, street harassment - from a whistle, to a leer, to longer than neccesary stare, to a grope - is “intimidating, degrading, humiliating [and] offensive”.

At work today I spent some time speaking to a female colleague who recently encountered some pretty awful sexual harassment from a member of the public, whilst in work. This younger woman was clearly left shaken and upset. We had a good long chat about the various ways in which we have both been harassed in the past. I can honestly say I think the first time I clearly recall street harassment happening to me was when I was 12 years old, and wearing my school uniform. The jeers in the town centre where I grew up didn’t come from school boys my own age, but from adult men. As a young girl this male attention flattered my ego; (of course, isn’t every young woman in our society taught from a young age that male attention is to be not only desired, but sought out?) Today, realising how long I’ve had to put up with street harassment I shocked even myself - and I balked at the thought that as a 12 year old I was being perved on in this way.

Now,16 years on, I am openly furious about street harassment. For me this has included whistling, staring, shouting, whispering and following. I’m one of the lucky ones, I have not been physically groped as far too many women have…or worse (because wolf whistling is the thin end of a much bigger, more sinister wedge). On the occasion where I have mentioned my disgust at this to others, I have on far too many times been met with ‘but you like it really don’t you?’, ‘take it as a compliment’, or ‘it’s just flattery’. (*SCREEEAAAMMMS!!!!!*) NO! NO! and NO! NO, no, no, no, no, no, no!!!

I don’t like it. It is not a compliment. It is not flattering. It makes me feel intimidated. It makes me feel uncomfortable and unsafe. It is uninvited and unwelcome. It is disrespectful. It is derogatory. It is sexist. It is humiliating. It is reducing me to something for you to look at and makes me feel like a piece of meat. It is not how you’d want your mother/sister/daughter/wife/girlfriend to be treated. It intrusive. It is rude. It is power play. It makes me feel like less than I am.

If you want to compliment me, get to know me, find out something wonderful about me and give me an honest compliment that is not based on your sexual opinion of my face or body. If you want me to feel comfortable and safe close your mouth and avert your gaze. Treat me with respect; I am someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s girlfriend. I am a helluva lot more than what you can see. How dare you?! Stop sexualising me.

I know that the majority of women who read this will know just what I am talking about. This Anti-Street Harassment week raise a shout; raise a ROAR. Share your story and get angry. IT IS NOT OK! Talk to other women, unite together and give each other support - that is just as important as anything else we can do to stop this.

Despite it sometimes feeling like we’re wading through treacle, I have to keep hope that we are moving toward a better society for everyone to live in. Street harassment has no part in it.

For more and to see how you can get involved see:

www.stopstreetharassment.org

www.meetusonthestreet.org

http://www.ihollaback.org/

For more about the European Convention on Violence Against Women, the FAQ’s are a really good place to start:

http://www.coe.int/t/dghl/standardsetting/convention-violence/faq_en.asp

Self Harm Awareness Day

March 1st is World Book Day, you’ve probably heard something about it on TV, or maybe there’s something going on at your local library. WHat you probably haven’t heard much about is that March 1st is also Self Harm Awareness Day.

I used to self harm. Maybe some of you already know this, may be some of you did not. I am not ashamed of this fact, it is part of who I am. To contribute to Self Harm Awareness Day I wanted to share a couple of things I penned a while ago, but until this point had not felt ready to share. I hope the reasons for me doing this become clear as you read on, so I won’t say too much more. This is for all my fellow self harmers.

Crimson Diary/Scarlet Embrace

My cuts weren’t the deepest there have been, nor the merest. The places that my scars lay vary from the places that others have laid theirs. The pain I felt inside, that eventually bled out through the wounds I created, no doubt was similar and different to every other person who has ever let their pain in the same way. The tools I chose were as assorted as the many that self harmers the world over have selected.

I am one of countless many. I am not the first, and I will not be the last, who has cut, burnt, picked, bitten and scratched at their own flesh. Something in me, like those innumerable others throughout the tapestry of history, found a tender and precious thing in harming myself in these ways.

I am not a psychologist or therapist, and I don’t have to hand the statistics of the how many, who, when or where surrounding self harm. I have read books about the subject; I have read good and helpful books and guides. They have helped me understand myself more, as has the counseling I’ve received. My only claim of expertise in the subject really is that which I have experienced. Most helpful in the pages I’ve read was often the first hand accounts from other self-harmers. The accuracy with which their words twinned with my thoughts gave me comfort, and the hope I felt when I read that some no-longer self harmed at all was like the distant sight of a boat on the horizon to a desperate shipwreckee.

And now I find myself among those who can say ‘I used to’. Long years I thought with all my energy that I would continue to feel and express in that same way forever. In that deep, dark place it is often impossible to imagine another way, another time, so blinded are you by the thickness of emotion that envelopes you. And yet… There is another time, a time in the future, which has become my present; a time when you have grown and its not always night time any more. A time when the memory remains strong, and at moments, the urge strong also, but when you have become stronger still; A time when you don’t cut anymore.

It’s so massively difficult to put into any kind of comprehensive words every thought and feeling I have about self harming. Often I find that I am contradicting myself. But paradoxes exist, and I have learnt that they exist boldly when it comes to self harming. I hate it and I love it. I wish to be rid of it, and I cherish it like a best friend. It makes me feel good, and it makes me feel terrible. It is my lover and my enemy. I am glad it is gone now, and I miss it.

My sincerest hopes for this effort are primarily two-fold. Firstly this is for the many many others who have shared this encounter with me. I dare to hope that reading my thoughts will offer them comfort in the same way that my glimpses of theirs helped me; that maybe I can offer a glimmer of hope to those still in the scarlet embrace; and that, so importantly, they can shed some of the shame they may feel and somehow know that they are not alone.

Secondly I hope that non-harmers will look on these pages and glean some understanding, and in understanding more will judge less. Unfortunately self harm has become a taboo subject. People don’t like to acknowledge it is there. It is messy and ‘unsightly’ and continually misunderstood. Biased I may be, but I don’t believe that self harmers need or deserve pity, but rather respect and understanding. So often perceived as weak, we are strong. (We and they must hear that)

 The following is something I wrote to try and explain why I self harmed.

ALIVE

You look and you see. You see the stripes on my arm. What do you see?

What shape forms in your thoughts of who I am and I why I do this thing I do?

This other thing, this thing that is alien to you. This action you associate with death, with a desire for death. It is not death, it is life. It is not dying, it is staying alive. It is being alive.

From the bottom of the darkest, dankest, empty pit; I do this to wake up. Not to go to sleep. I do this to feel, not to cease feeling. I do this to breathe again, not to hand life my notice.

When the desire to die grips me like poisonous vines that curl around my every thought, this thing I do cuts through them, as it cuts through me.

The frustration that winds me like a tightly wound coil, fit to burst; The overwhelming emotion that threatens my stability like an approaching tsunami, that is daylight robbery stealing my breath and my foothold; the anger and the hurt that throw knifes at me striking the bulls eye of my heart.

This thing I do is my rescuer. My Tarzan swooping in and swiftly lifting me out of the impending doom of what I may do if I am left with these feelings. It is the diversion sign that forces me to drive around the dead end road that leads over a drop I won’t return from.

This putting apart of my flesh, pieces me together again. It halts the hurricane dead in its tracks. The speeding car-chase of emotions stops when the light turns red. It is the blood that flows through my body, the circulation that delivers life-giving oxygen to my organs, which now gives oxygen to my soul.  I can breathe again. I can see again. I’m safe and sound, and not deathward bound again.

I’m still alive.

NORA @ the Belgrade Theatre 16/2/12: A review and some reflections…

As a sixth form theatre studies student i studied Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House and developed a huge affection for it. The production I saw in London at the time was stunning and the impression it left on me has lasted over the years. I felt Ibsen’s play was courageous, it had a rebellious spirit I admired, and the courage of Ibsen’s Nora I found inspiring. All this being so, I was excited to see Nora, an adaptation of Ibsen’s play by Ingmar Bergman.
To be honest, my overwhelming feeling now is that this production really betrayed Ibsen’s masterpiece. I had been expecting more ‘adaptation’, but Bergman’s script seems to merely cut huge chunks out of Ibsen’s text - some, which in my opinion shed important light on many aspects of the play we did see.

First I would like to briefly critique the production itself, before moving on to some of the issues and questions it raised.

The actual production, directed by Patricia Benecke, I must admit, I did not find overly impressive. I found most of the characters, particularly Nora, were overacted and unconvincing, with exception of Christine, Nora’s long lost friend. While it is true that one of over riding themes of the play is how childlike and naieve Nora is (indeed her ‘doll like’ existence),  in this instance i felt that this was unneccesarily overdone - almost in some places to the point of farce, and definitely to the point of irritation! Likewise, i felt that the roles of Doctor Rank and Krogstadt lacked the depth that these characters potentially have given the script. (Rank was altogether too lighthearted about his imminent death, to the point i think where people in the audience who did not know the play wouldn’t have really realised that he was about to die!)

The set was poor and not particularly well conceived. I felt that it really lacked imagination - except perhaps for the two gold fish trapped in their tank at the back of the stage; a representation of Nora & Torvald i assume (I only wished one of them had miraculously jumped out at the end!) The set did provide a stark background on which to focus the action though.

There were some odd choices made by the director of this production of Nora, not least the inclusion of a sex scene with full nudity from Torvald. Not, in my opinion, at all neccesary, except for courting publicicty perhaps? But the main choice that really rubbed me up the wrong way was to set the play, orginially written in 1879, in the present day.

For me this entirely shifted the heart of the play, and I’m not convinced it really worked. Let me elaborate; When Ibsen wrote his play, in which the wife & mother (Nora) walks out of ‘the dolls house’ that is her life, and walks away from her husband and children, it caused massive controversy. As the director alluded to in the post show discussion, in some cases Ibsen was forced to write an alternative ending where Nora decides to stay - so explosive was his indended ending to a Victorian audience. The context of the play then, is massively different to what it is if we set it today. In Ibsen’s time it was expected of women of Nora’s standing that they go from being owned by their father to owned by their husband. Women were very much a possession, unable to own their own property, unable to vote, and with very little autonomy - other than that allowed them by their significant males. Thus the easy understanding of Ibsens’ audiences of the situation Nora is in - and the audacity of her choices throughout the play - from the revelation that she has borrowed money, to her eventual departure. It would have been almost unheard of, and certainly extremely shocking, for Ibsen’s audiences that a wife and mother would have the gaul to leave her positions as such. This is in stark contrast to our society today - where marriage separations and divorces are commonplace; where a divorce can be negotiated and agreed upon - as can custody; and importantly, where woman are given (in our western societies) an education, and are able to work and provide for themselves. All this would have been alien to Ibsen’s Nora. For her to leave as she does in A Doll’s House would have meant sacrificing everything. She wouldn’t have had the choice to take the children with her, it is unlikely she would have been able to provide for them - even IF society would have accepted them leaving with her. If marriages did end in this era the children remained with the father.
In my interpretation of Ibsen’s original Nora is portrayed ultimately as courageous - giving voice to the idea that a woman was more than just a daughter, a wife or a mother  -  that before all these she was a human being. A revolutionary idea at the time, that we maybe take for granted today. In a modernised setting the impact of Nora’s decision to leave is entirely different. In light of the relative freedom in relationships that we have today, suddenly Nora’s choice - as a 21st Century woman makes us feel slightly at odds. It is for this reason, i think, that one of the reactions voiced in the post show discussion - and shared by many who attended the play, was an outrage that Nora could so dismissively walk out on her children. Perhaps we empathise with her character striking out on her own from her domineering, chauvinistic husband - but to abandon her children? It sits at odds with our modern understanding of people and similar situations.
As I have already mentioned, the context of this in the original historical setting was something quite different. Nora’s choice would be stay and be forever a doll, or leave - and leaving meant leaving her children too. Today, thankfully, we have more options open to us. But also Bergman’s dramatic nip-tuck of the play cuts out entirely another historical element that could perhaps help us understand Nora’s decision further. In Ibsen’s A Doll’s House we see scenes with the children in them; looked after almost entirely by their maid, and occasionally played with (like dolls) by their mother. This would have been typical for many middle class families in this era; historical Nora therefore may have had scant emotional attachment to her children. Not ,by a long way, the emotional attachment we assume of her modern day counterpart. So when modern Nora leaves, so suddenly, so completely, it seems to us less courageous and rather more callous. A modern Nora we may admire would be one who stands up to her husband, possibly divorces, but has the love to retain a relationship with her children.
For me this ‘mother leaves children’ theme was the most thought provoking thing about this particular production. And what i did like about it in this sense is that it challenges our deeply held, sexist assumptions that it is always the man that abandons his wife and children. It irks me that we see that scenario played out time and time again in popular media without much reaction - but when it is the mother who leaves we feel this isn’t right. And (this is probably a topic for another blog) it starts to make us question the assumed parental positions of male and female. The assumption that a maternal bond trumps a paternal bond. My four siblings and I were brought up by my dad for the past 13 years (the five of us ranging from 6-15 yrs old at the time)- and he, to me, is a prime example of a challenge to stereotypical parental norms.
Mothers do leave their families; families do separate and the children remain with the father. It is a really tricky dilemma i feel, that in some ways such women can be seen to be claiming their independence, maybe they are ‘escaping’ situations where they feel de-humanised (like Nora) or trapped, the feeling of being trapped might be in the role of mother, as well as of wife. It is no doubt that the increased social liberation of women today means that woman are more free to make these autonomous decisions over their own lives (good); and yet - they likey leave behind children wanting a mother, who don’t understand all that and are left feeling abandoned (bad). It’s a difficult one to unravel, and i feel underqualified to talk too much about it as I am not a parent, but it’s worth a pause for thought.

Returning to Nora,  what we also missed from this adaptation is the contrasting relationship Ibsen presents of Christine & Krogstadt. This was alluded to in one scene, but in the original this relationship is much more poignantly given to us. Here Ibsen showed his audience that there was an alternative to the position Nora found herself in. Christine and Krogstadt, both widowers, choose one another and form a relationship based on love and shared desire, in defiance of accepted norms - the opposite of the arranged, patriarchal relationship Nora finds herself in. Throughout the play Christine champions the idea that Nora should tell Torvald the truth, and shows us (and Nora) that a woman could be self sufficient. She, it would seem, has already been freed from the dolls house society would put her in. In A Doll’s House we see Nora’s gradual awakening, that builds throughout the play, as though a butterfly emerges from a cocoon; in Nora with so much of the script cut, and the brash acting of the lead, i felt this was lost.

I left the post show discussion with an overwhelming desire to discuss more! Despite my reservations about the actors, the set, and the choices made for the production - it raised a whole new set of questions which i hadn’t considered before. It also made me really want to re-read Ibsen’s play and get my hands on some tickets to see the London production again!

Thanks to everyone who came along as well, I hope you found it as stimulating as i did!

Thin end of the wedge? Why it was right to ban prayers at council meetings.

The thin end of the wedge? Why it is right to ban prayers at the start of council meetings.

Last week the High Court ruled that “the saying of prayers as part of the formal meeting of a Council is not lawful under s111 of the Local Government Act 1972.” The ruling was given in response to a recent Judicial Review instigated by the National Secular Society (NSS) in response to a complaint by Clive Bone, who until recently was a Councillor for Bideford Town Council.

The story has caused a flurry of interest from those both in support of, and opposed to the decision. Mr Bone and the NSS have been depicted, by some who oppose the decision, as Christian-haters, determined to destroy every vestment of faith in the country. The phrase ‘militant secularism’ and that old chestnut ‘political correctness gone mad’ (which coincidentally, makes me go mad) are being lavishly bandied about by certain Christian organisations and MPs. Of course, this isn’t the case. Cllr Bone is an atheist who felt uncomfortable with Christian prayers being on the agenda for every formal meeting of the Council. Long before this court decision was decided upon he, with the support of the NSS, had put forward suggestions of prayer (for those who choose to) before the formal meeting, or to include a period of silence at the start of the meeting  - where each councillor could choose to pray, or not pray, to his or her god of choice; both reasonable compromises in my opinion. However, after two elections within the Council on the matter, prayers were to remain timetabled. The fact that the Council voted on the matter inevitably arose in court, with the defence arguing that this legitimized the prayers as they had been democratically decided upon. However, eventually even the Defence lawyer, James Dingemans QC, had to concede that “democratic votes do not make lawful that which is unlawful”.

Executive Director of the NSS Keith Porteous Wood put their case succinctly;

                “We believe that council meetings should be conducted in a manner equally welcoming to all councilors, regardless of their religious belief, or indeed, lack of belief. The NSS is not seeking to deprive those who wish to pray an opportunity to do so; indeed, we fight to retain freedom of religion and belief.”

The point is that we live in an increasingly multi-cultural society. A wide range of beliefs, including non-belief, are represented in our Councils, and our Government; and rightly so. A Council that represents and makes decisions for the people who live in our multi-cultural, multi-faith society must not act in a way that discriminates against someone of any one particular faith system – or indeed against those with none at all. This leads onto an interesting discussion about secularism, religion and the state – as indeed it has done in much of the press coverage this week.

Perhaps our most well known example of the ‘separation of church and state’ is America. Interestingly the term, coined by Thomas Jefferson in 1802, and enshrined in the First Amendment, was created to protect religious freedom from intervention by the state. These days, in our modern cultures, I would argue that in many cases (including the US) it is more pertinent that we protect the state and government decisions from the influences of certain aspects of some religions.

Of course, this is a tricky tightrope to walk. Where does the personal and public meet? It is of course inevitable that the private religious beliefs of those who serve in our councils and our government will affect the opinions they create in public life, and the decisions and laws they endeavor to pass.

In American politics, despite the constitutional separation of church and state, it is worryingly clear how dramatically the personal faiths of leaders can have the potential to cause wide and far reaching damage. We’ve recently seen potential presidential candidates such as Mitt Romney and Rick Santorum openly discussing their opposition to abortion. With fundamentalist Christianity holding such sway in many areas of American political life, and indeed in America itself, it is unsettling to think of how particular personal beliefs could ultimately end up affecting the lives of so many women adversely.

In the UK there have been some recent examples of similar faith-influenced politics. The repeated attempts by MP Nadine Dorries to pass bills pertaining to abortion counselling and abstinence teaching for girls (groan) come immediately to mind. Particularly in the case of the suggested ‘indepenent’ counselling body she proposes should offer pregnant women advice, who turn out to be a very Christian organisation which trains their counsellors of the hatred god has for abortion. On the mention of Dorries we shouldn’t be surprised to find that she has had a thing or two to say in response to the NSS’ success in this case. Her rhetoric on the matter comes across, not unusually, as extreme and exaggerated, as has much of the vocal Christian response. She describes this court victory for the NSS and “Lonely LibDem Mr Bone” (her words, bit harsh perhaps) as an “attack on Christian belief in this country” that is “plumbing the depths of what reasonable people will accept”. Which ‘reasonable people’ Nadine? Personally, I’d say its bills such as the ones Dorries herself has attempted to push through that plumb these depths of reasonable acceptability.

At present it looks more like the bias is still heavily weighted toward rather than away from Christianity. The UK is remarkably alone amongst other Western Democracies in some aspects of how Christianity still holds suit in a variety of ways. For example, we are the only state, with the possible exception of Iran, to give clerics (26 bishops) the right to sit in its legislature (The House of Lords). Christian prayers are still routine in Parliament – despite the increasingly broad range of beliefs represented by our MPs. And we are the only western democracy that has made a daily act of worship mandatory in non-religious, publically funded schools. Speaking of schools, much of our taxes fund religious faith schools which teach a particular doctrine to young minds. 22% of publicly funded schools are run by the Church of England, 10% by the Catholic Church. This is all the case despite a steadily decreasing church attendance (6% of the population in 2010) and a growing disassociation of much of the population with traditional Christian values and beliefs. Keith Porteous Wood of the NSS summarises similar statistical evidence by saying “In essence the population, if not the political arrangements, are overwhelmingly secular.”

 If, as scaremongers like Dorries would have us believe, this ruling against council prayers is the thin end of the wedge – then perhaps it’s a wedge that needs wedging in just a little more. The Britain we live in today is a rich tapestry of cultural heritages. A growing diversity of belief and an increasing degree of non-belief contribute to the make-up of our country. We must seek to breed tolerance and understanding between these different belief systems and create spaces – particularly those in public office, which encourage and support those from all backgrounds to participate.

http://www.womensviewsonnews.org/2012/02/out-of-the-dolls-house/

A Room of One’s Own - a review and some reflections

I have recently had the pleasure of reading, for the first time, Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own. I loved the book, which is based on two papers read by Woolf to the Arts Society at Newnham and the Odtaa (One Damn Thing After Another) Society at Girton in 1928. With this firmly in mind it is easy to imagine Virginia’s voice speaking the words aloud to a packed room. Her words are wonderfully descriptive, alive, humourous and informative. Asked to deliver a lecture on ‘Women and Fiction’ she takes us on a historical journey exploring the standing of women, particularly in relation to writing.

A few points really resonated with me that I’d like to expand upon a little in this blog entry.

After finding shelves full of books about women but penned by men in the library, and absorbing reams of their words she senses an anger in their authors. She desrcibes ‘the professor’, who epitomizes this angry male pen. She then looks through an evening paper and takes us through a handful of the stories her gaze alights on. Her conclusion after this?:

“The most transient visitor to this planet, I thought, who picked up this paper could not fail to be aware, even from this scattered testimony, that England is under the rule of a patriarchy. Nobody in their senses could fail to detect the dominance of the professor. His was the power and the money and the influence. He was the proprietor of the paper and its editor and sub-editor. He was the Foreigh Secretary and the Judge. He was the cricketer; he owned the racehorses and the yachts. He was the director of the company that pays two hundred percent to its shareholders. He left millions to charities and colleges that were ruled by himself. He suspended the film actress in mid-air…”

I love this passage. It so succinctly describes the influence of patriarchy, the all pervasiveness of it. And Woolf is right - who ‘could not fail to be aware’ of this male hand of power? What made my eyes widen however, is how true  that sentiment is today, as it was when Woolf wrote it down in 1928. Over eighty years have past since then, and despite the tremendous advances of women in all areas of society, I still felt like this could have been written yesterday. Indeed, to frame it as she does, if an alien visitor to our planet picked up a paper in 2012, I think this is EXACTLY the impression they would get. I thought about this a bit longer. Recently I read a report from the organisation Object, which was submitted to the ongoing Leveson inquiry into newspapers. Their report focused on the sexualisation and objectification of women in several of Britain’s leading newspapers. It followed a week in the life of papers such as The Sun and The Star. (You can read the report yourself here http://www.object.org.uk/component/content/article/3-news/151-object-turn-your-back-on-page-3-submission-to-the-leveson-inquiry). I couldn’t finish the report it sickened me so much. Not mere patriarcy, in a passive way perhaps - where men are the dominant force, and women left to go about their merry, home-making way. No, the examples shown from our papers TODAY were aggressive, perversely sexualising, entirely derogatory and misoginistic in many cases. Photos of women and pieces relating to women of the sort that no paper in 1928 would have dreamed of printing! I dread to imagine what impression of women a visitor to the planet earth today would get should they happened upon such a paper left lying on a table in the local cafe.

The next bit of the book which really stands out in my mind is a poem quoted by Woolf a little further on. In the essay Woolf speaks about Lady Winchilsea; a female poet from the 17th Century, when it was unheard of and unacceptable for such a thing to exist! Woolf quotes this passage from one of Lady Winchilsea’s poems and i think it’s great:

Alas! a woman that attempts the pen,
… Such an intruder on the rights of men,
Such a presumptuous Creature, is esteem’d,
The fault, can by no vertue be redeem’d.
They tell us, we mistake our sex and way;
Good breeding, fassion, dancing, dressing, play
Are the accomplishments we shou’d desire;
To write, or read, or think, or to enquire
Wou’d cloud our beauty, and exaust our time,
And interrupt the Conquests of our prime;
Whilst the dull mannage, of a servile house
Is held by some, our outmost art, and use

This is a small part of a longer poem which you can read here, under ‘The Introduction’: http://www.luminarium.org/eightlit/finch/bib.php

However I once again I got a whiff of the all too familiar. How many of the expectations upon women that Lady Winchilsea writes about here are still pressures put upon women today? Women are still expected to be interested in ‘breeding, fashion, dancing, dressing…’ Granted we are very, very much more liberated to think and write and read, but girls are still taught by vast swathes of societal influences that they should look pretty before anything else! This extract reminded me of the work of the organisation PinkStinks, who have led the way in challenging the gender norms that are being forced upon children. Around Christmas time last year Hamleys toy store finally removed the ‘BOYS’ and ‘GIRLS’ definitions from two of its floors; the floor with all the pink, princessy, kitcheny, beauty related toys, and the floor with all the army, transport, techy and scientific toys (can you guess which was labelled which!?) I find it frightening the degree to which girls are brought up today with more and more emphasis on beauty, home-making and passivity; and likewise with boys who are being taught that they must be tough, they must be aggressive, and they must be protectors. As well as these positive affirmations of antiquated gender stereotypes, the negative implications these assertions imply are that girls aren’t interested in science or technology, that boys aren’t natural carers and shouldn’t enjoy cooking, and on and on…! This is insanity! I am astonished at how little we have progressed! The year is 2012 for crying out loud! Take a wonder into any highstreet toy shop and the gender expectations take you right back to Lady Winchilsea’s times!

Finally, there is one more stop i’d like to make on my ‘Room of One’s Own Highlights’ tour! And this takes us to Virginia Woolf’s emphatic summing up and addressing of the women in her audience. She describes to her audience the lack of female achievement to date, and she challenges them as to why this is; “What is your excuse?” To her imagined responses she chastises them with the following;

“…may i remind you that there have been at least two colleges for women in existence in England since the year 1866; that after the year 1880 a married woman was allowed by law to possess her own property; and that in 1919 - which is a whole nine years ago - she was given a vote? May i also remind you that most of the professions have been open to you for close to ten years now? When you reflect upon these immemse privileges and the length of time during which they have been enjoyed, and the fact that there must be at this moment some two thousand women capable of earning over five hundred a year in one way or another, you will agree that the excuse of lack of opportunity, training, encouragement, leisure, and money no longer holds good.”

Well, she told them! This was the last thing i expected to find at the end of this book. Moreso, I had anticipated an encouragement; “We’ve still got a long way to go, but we’ll get there together”, or perhaps a call to action; “Down with the stinking patriarchy!”. But a chastisement such as this?! I love the view Virginia takes here, she hasn’t taken an iota of female progress for granted. ‘A whole NINE YEARS ago’ the vote was granted! What a short amount of time that seems to me today, female suffrage in it’s mere infancy! But to Virginia Woolf it is more than enough time to have made a difference! Her words shout the message ‘Don’t sit on your laurels! Push forward! Don’t make excuses! Act!”. One more time Woolf’s words could be spoken aloud today with resonance. Only now, we’ve not only 9 years of the vote, but nearly 100! And the professions have been open to us for near on a 100 years more too! And, wow, today women HAVE entered into many more professions, and done things maybe even Virginia Woolf would have thought unimaginable! But i feel like if she were here today she may be asking, ‘What is your excuse?! Why are men still paid more than you? Why are you governed by so many men, and so few women? Why are you still bumping your head on a glass ceiling?! Why are the men still telling you how you should look and what you should do?!’ I don’t think Woolf is trying to lay the blame at womankind’s door, the preceding pages show that she recognises the weight of patriarchy and tradition that women struggle against. And today that great, surging force is no less powerful; But struggle against it we must. Perhaps the reason I connected with that passage is because of how angered I am with the apathy of many women today; with the assumption by a maddening majority that we don’t need feminism anymore because we’ve ‘got equality now’. Woolf’s passionate ticking off chimes with something in me that would like to stir up a little passion in many women I encounter. If you’re reading this then I imagine you’re not one of them, and that you are already helping to heave humankind toward equality in some way or another. For us then, we can take this passage as a reminder of how far we have come, and an encouragement to make the most of those freedoms and achievements, and to utilise them to stride even further.

In many ways reading this book troubled me; the degree to which so much of it felt so current was quite frightening. But I came away overall with a sense of historical perspective, with a renewed vigour, and a feeling of unity with the women who have passed before me. And, the book make me laugh! Who knew women could be funny hey?! Now that is controversial! xxx