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Let’s Ban Revenge Porn (UK)


By Chloe Hutchinson


Recently a lot of progress has been made in the campaign to ban revenge porn. It has been debated in parliament, appeared on 2 front pages and been covered by the BBC as well as getting loads of support from MPs, members of the House of Lords and more than 4,500 of you!

Revenge porn is when explicit images are published online by an ex without consent. This causes a humongous amount of damage to the victim’s personal and professional life.

Whilst this is an issue that affects both genders, women are disproportionately more likely to suffer from this kind of abuse than men. The abuse is often accompanied by a lot of victim-blaming and slut-shaming.

In the UK revenge porn is currently still legal when the images are of consenting adults, but things are changing.  You can help by signing the petition and by asking your MP to support the campaign in parliament. If you have been a victim and would like to help click here. With your support we can make this illegal!


Bikini Body Folly


By Olivia Murphy

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It’s summertime again. That’s code for ‘buff beach bod’ time. A time where muffin tops are a sweet, sugary no-no, and barely-there bikini’s become the necessary garment for your ‘designer vagina’; a place that must be transformed from ‘muff madness’ into ‘pornstar pussy perfection’. Should I St. Tropez or Fake Bake to banish my plain, pasty paleness (God forbid an English Rose should de-robe au naturale on the beach amidst bronzed Brazilian babes)? In fact, should my regular wicked waxing sessions bypass the Brazilian and go head on for Hollywood? Perhaps if I deny every natural bodily process and biological function I might achieve the unachievable? Is that what it takes to be perfect? Will I be happy?

My mind filters these thoughts instinctively as I prepare for my holiday to Brazil. The line between ‘banging babe’ and ‘beauty blooper’ is unfeasibly thin, and my fate lies in the lap of the media-gods. Rule one: colour your skin a dark shade of fake tan, but tangoed hands, mud-like build up and streaky bacon legs are a school girl error. Rule two: the more expensive, exclusive designer sunglasses the better (in fact, the more ‘bug-eyed’ the better; covering up your face is probably a blessing to the public), but remember ‘panda eyes from sunbathing’ is a serious epic fail. Rule three: never over-pluck your eyebrows, but if you infringe on the ‘Scouse-brow’, ‘tatoo-brow’ and ‘monobrow’, then forget leaving the house altogether. How can one keep up with such inconsistent trends? What is permitted and what is forbidden? Brazilian booty? Ha, my skinny ass couldn’t do enough squats in a lifetime to achieve the perfect ‘belfie’. The closest I’m ever going to get to J-Lo is Livvy from the block.

So why is the anxiety of bikini body perfection so infectious; a vicious cycle of relentless bitching, glorifying, then more bitching? Do we hate or hanker for the unhealthy size-zero fad? Why do we fervently invest in the trashy body-obsession produced by the media? Are we not educated; knowing full well that adverts are airbrushed, models malnourished, and ‘cutting-edge’ cosmetics are a con? You know as well as I do that these facts are true, yet we persist to invest in such a culture despite our opinions and awareness. If I take up Pilates, will I really get ‘Brazilian legs’ like Gisele Bundchen? If I take up boxing will I get ‘Brazilian arms’ like Adriana Lima? If I do a yoga class twice a day will I achieve the ‘Brazilian composure’ of Raquel Zimmerman? If I refuse to consume anything but stewed spinach and kale smoothies will I achieve glossy, ‘Brazilian locks’ like Ana Carolina Reston?

We praise curvier figures for being ‘real’ women role models, yet this is just a front to disguise our true desire to be perfect; our need to be anything but ‘real’. We attack ourselves physically, verbally, psychologically and emotionally. Chicken wings, thunder thighs, sausage fingers – the cruel glossary of image-obsessive terms is endless. Stomachs and breasts that have carried and nourished babies are rewarded with ‘repulsive’ stretch marks and saggy skin. Cover up that skin damaged décolletage! Cover up that flat, deflated chest and bum! Cover up that crepey knee skin! Are you really entertaining legs of cellulite? Is your vagina too loose? Such terminology is so extreme I find it comical, but the fact it is so dehumanising makes the matter anything but funny.

Imagine that the beauty and body ideologies are goalposts. I fear the rate at which these goalposts constantly change; getting narrower and narrower at a faster rate than our shrinking waistlines. If we don’t stay firm, what will become of reality? My culture encourages lighter-skinned girls to tan their skin and darker-skinned women to lighten their skin. Why does our image-obsessed world wish us to deny our true selves? I fear living in a world where expectations are so skewed and perverse that body hair on women is considered monstrous and eyelashes, nails, breasts, hair, bottoms and lips are either fake, implanted or lifted to deny the laws of physics, biology and chemistry. Shopping, dressing up and make-up should be fun, shouldn’t it? Fact of the matter is, what used to be a source of enjoyment and self-confidence is quickly becoming the stimulus of intense female angst and insecurity. Is it really realistic to live your life caked in expensive tanning agents and cosmetics, tottering on skyscraper stripper-stilettos with that itsy-bitzy Agent Provocateur thong that is so far up your bum god forbid you should take a trip to the restroom (it’s ok though, girls don’t poo right?)? What happened to the time when clothes reflected our personalities, identities and unique body shapes? Are we trying to convey our characters and individuality? Are we trying to celebrate or exploit our womanly assets? Or are we simply trying to conceal our imperfections and conform to an unrealistic ideal?


Come on girls. You know we have more important things to worry about. You know we can make a serious contribution to science, politics and the arts. This will never transpire if we continue to use our time and money consuming, investing and propelling our image-crazy world. I know that we are serious about our lives and our careers. I know we are.

As my suitcase lays open and I debate whether I include my F+F Sundress or my Kaftan from Accessorise, I know that neither will transform me into Victoria’s Secret model, Alessandra Ambrosia. My nail colour will not be a bright yellow to reflect my ‘inner Brazilian radiance’, nor will I invest in a red lipstick to boost my chances of seducing Mr. Brazilian-Fifa-World-Cup-knob cheese -Charming. My image is an expression of my personal taste, and no one else’s. I love a floral dress. I love my Mac eye shadows. I curl my hair. My new, fluorescent court heels are so gorgeous they stop traffic (quite literally). And why should I deny myself? They make me feel great. Feminism is not the rejection of femininity, but having the strength to express the real, unique you. Perfection is undefinable and beauty is subjective therefore there is certainly no such thing as the ‘perfect body’ or the ‘perfect female face’. I don’t believe that anyone has ‘problem areas’, ‘fat armpits’ or ‘mosquito-bite nipples’ – these terms are cruel inventions. For heaven’s sake, have your cake and eat it! Fight back against covering and concealing your true self; for I fear we are at risk of disappearing altogether.

In a nutshell, I beg you to listen to your own voice, your own soul, your own heart. No one has the right to dictate what you should or shouldn’t do, or how you should or shouldn’t look. Confidence is strength, strength is empowerment, and empowerment is peace. You can succeed in anything if you put your mind to it; the real challenge is to permit yourself to reach those goals. We must stop the bitching, the loathing, the envy and the competition. We must listen to our sisters and be supportive, not fault-finding. If Kate Moss gained a few stone, would we praise her for rejecting her previous mantra: ‘nothing tastes as good as skinny’? Or, would we invest in headlines such as ‘Miserable Moss Mirrors a Mountain’? More importantly, why do we care? Someone else should not make us feel threatened or inadequate. We must stop manifesting in our own insecurities and criticising other women for their supposed ‘flaws’. What does criticism achieve? Does this really make you feel better about yourself long-term?

Of course it is not simple, but I have faith in our generation. Only we can choose to change the way we think and talk about ourselves and others. Only we have the power to regain control over those ever-adjusting goalposts. So what are you waiting for? It is time to find something more fulfilling and worthwhile – and for god’s sake more exciting – than achieving the ‘perfect’ bikini bod. I’m coming for you, Rio de Janeiro, skinny ass and all.

We Are More Than Just a Distraction


By Lily Scott


The sun is getting hotter and the days are getting longer, summer is finally here! That means bare legs in the grass, floaty tops and warm sunshine on our tummies right? Nope, not quite if you’re still in school or college. Across the country, school administrators are trying their hardest to cover up any parts of the female body that are deemed ‘inappropriate’. In many schools, this includes: legs, shoulders, cleavage and midriff. Exactly the parts of the body that suit the summer weather.

Last week, I walked into the front gate of my school and was pulled aside by a male teacher. He told me that the bit of skin showing between my high-waisted jeans and baggy crop top was not acceptable and I must go home to change immediately. Walking home, my frustration grew at the dress code that humiliates and shames girls in school when they should be in a lesson, getting the same education as the male half of the school. At most schools, dress code violators are either sent home or made to change into any item of clothing thrown at them from the lost property cupboard. It’s embarrassing being targeted like this, leaving many girls with loss of self-esteem. Although there are rules for boys, they are not as frequently enforced and only state that t-shirts can’t reference drugs or anything sexual. It is unequal that boys can walk around freely showing their underwear beneath saggy jeans, yet the slightest glimpse of a bra strap and teachers practically faint with shock. Everyone is aware that most girls do in fact wear a bra underneath their clothing, so why are bras treated as such a mysterious taboo that must not be seen or mentioned? Bras have become the Voldemort of the clothing world.

The rules for women will never, ever be simple. We are expected to conform to both the media and school’s expectations and tread a very fine line of being pretty and appealing but not revealing. We are told that we must be pleasing to the eye but not too suggestive or sexy. These guidelines tell men that it is okay to slut shame and eventually leads to the idea that when a women is sexually assaulted, it is the clothes that she was wearing that are to blame. In other words, ‘she was asking for it’. Girls as young as 13 are being told to change when simply showing their legs in shorts, or bare shoulders in vest tops. These students are too young to be sexualised in any way and are taught from such an early age that their bodies tempt men and it is their responsibility to stop leering or harassment.

It is unlikely that school uniform policies will be relaxed as authorities are intent on their belief that they are doing what is best for the students. It is clear that what they are doing only benefits males as the distraction of female bodies are taken away, making it easier to concentrate on learning. However, we could argue that young men are very capable of exercising self-control and will not always go wild at the sight of a girl’s bare shoulders. If it is absolutely necessary to apply dress codes, it should be equal for boys and girls, so that the system doesn’t favour one gender over another. It should not be the concern of a female to change the way she looks or dresses so that a man won’t view her in a certain way. What needs to change is the attitudes that girls are simply sexual objects to be hassled or catcalled. We should be taught to be confident and proud of our bodies, not policing ourselves for the male gaze.

Why Does the World Cup Hate Women?


By Issy McConville


The other night, I watched the football. My dad watched the football, my mum watched the football, 13 million other people watched the football. 13 million tears ran down 13 million faces as England’s World Cup hopes were kicked into the dust by the boot of Luis Suarez. Yes, love it or hate it, World Cup fever has truly set in. Giant England flags adorn houses across the country; ‘Fantasy Football Leagues’ have become the new ‘Doing My Work at the Office’; and every-man and his dog are flogging some kind of tenuously World Cup themed gear – Pot Noodle anyone? It’s exciting, it’s unifying, we all flock to the pub for matches of countries we couldn’t even point to on a map. To borrow from the lyrical immortality of The Farm, we are ‘all together now’ – one big football shaped earth united for four weeks in our love of the beautiful game.

But are we? While I was watching the England v. Uruguay match, I couldn’t help but notice that there were no female commentators during the ITV coverage. Again, during the BBC coverage of the England v. Italy game, there were no female commentators. Two major British channels, two matches with an enormous audience – and no women. I don’t think it’s too radical to suggest the line-up could have included a female voice – women watch football, women play football, women are just as qualified to talk about it. Undeniably there are some hugely respected female names in sports presenting – look at Gabby Logan, or Clare Balding – and yet female voices were excluded from the biggest sporting event in the world.

In reality, women fail to be supported at all levels of the game. The English team in the Women’s World Cup are currently at the top of their group in the qualifying stages, but this has hardly received coverage. Earlier this year, leaked emails from Premier League chief Richard Scudamore, in which he refers to women as ‘gash’, revealed sexism at the heart of the industry. As children we’re told that football is a boy’s game, and it is often not offered to girls at school. A friend of mine, Jess, is a qualified coach and plays women’s football. She’s a really good player, but says she’s always told ‘you’re good…for a girl’. Why must her gender determine her ability as a player? Why is female interest in football so often seen as an oddity, an exception to the norm? Last week my driving teacher told me that ‘about 90% of women who go to matches only go to look at the fit men’. I almost jumped out of the moving car on an A- road. Yes, I cannot deny that I have enjoyed the presence of Thierry Henry and his cardigans during BBC coverage. But this isn’t the reason I’m watching. In fact, if eyeing up the players was your aim, you’d be left highly unsatisfied, as for the majority of a match you can only see small blobs running around the pitch.

These attitudes are undermining women’s enjoyment of, and involvement in, football, and they need to change. We need to celebrate women’s football, and encourage girls to play it at school. And this needs to start from the very top. By including female panellists at major matches, television companies can really lead by example; taking a simple step towards recognising and valuing women as equals in the football industry. This is not a journey that can be completed in 90 minutes, but we can at least take a step towards the goal.

Myself as a Man-hater


By Yas Necati

Someone told me recently that they thought I hated men. They couldn’t provide a reason why, but seemed convinced, somehow, with no evidence, that this was the truth.

So I just thought I’d make it clear here (although if you read my blogs, you probably already know): I do not hate men. I LOVE men. There are a few that I dislike, but there are a few women I dislike. I don’t have a problem with these select few for their gender, rather their principles. It is not men I am against. It is the patriarchy I am against. Male-domination, male-privilege, not men.

If I EVER do ANYTHING that implies that I hate men, please call me out on it. Because I don’t hate men and I don’t want to give that impression. If I’m acting in a way that suggests man-hating then that is not only offensive but it is wrong.

I’m not here to promote gender-bashing, I’m here to promote equality. I’m not here to promote discrimination, I’m here to promote acceptance. I’m not here to promote separation, I’m here to promote cohesion. Most importantly –

I’m not here to spread hate. I’m here to spread love.

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