Wednesday 30 September 2009

Definatalie... how do I love thee?

I just wanna give massive props and respect to Natalie, an Australian blogger and artist, whose blog I'm officially hooked on. She da bomb! I can't actually remember how the hell I found out about her, but I'm so glad I did. Her art is awesome, her style is fly as hell and her politics seem to shoot from the same canon as mine. One post, in particular, that I've been meaning to link to for ages now is this:


Every female should watch, listen and take frantic notes - it makes sense!

Check our her blog on the 'links i've known and loved' to the right of this post.

The lass is fearless, make no mistake.

Thursday 17 September 2009

Why I can't get to where I wanna go...

I’ve just returned from a deeply upsetting visit to the Oxford University Social and Cultural Anthropology Library or Tylor Library as it’s better known. Don’t get me wrong: the library itself was lovely, as were the staff who were incredibly friendly and helpful. As term hasn’t begun yet, the library was an oasis of calm and tranquillity and I spent a wonderful hour wandering round the stacks discovering lots of incredible books written by ex-tutors.

So, why was it so upsetting? Well, like with all things Oxford, my visit was another in a series of glaring reminders that I am positively not where I want to be in life. Being in the library reminded me of my brief and wonderful experience of being an Anthropology undergraduate in London . What a fantastic experience and privilege! As is so often the case upon reflection, I’d certainly do things differently, but I feel very fortunate to have enjoyed my studies as much as I did and to have done so in such a vibrant and stimulating environment.

It’s been six years since I graduated and I’m pretty much convinced that I haven’t had to use my brain once between the hours of nine and five during this period. I wasn’t particularly concerned about working in McJobs the first few years after graduating, but now I’ve finally grown up and started to develop a clearer idea of what I’d like to do with my life, it’s even more frustrating that I’m so stuck. Which, I am: impossibly, undeniably, infuriatingly. And it makes me crazy.

Why? Well, there are a few reasons. The first one I take responsibility for – but that’s as far as it goes. I’ve literally spent years punishing myself for bad financial decisions made when I was younger and dafter than today, and it stops now. I’ve pulled my head out of the sand and am now signed up to a debt management plan with the CCCS to pay back a small fortune every month in an endeavour to clear all my debt. If you or someone you know are experiencing similar problems with debt, I really recommend contacting them here. They’re a really brilliant organisation and free, which makes a refreshing change from all those mercenary set-ups that just wanna rip you off.

In order to progress up the damned ‘career ladder’ (especially in the field I’m interested in), you either need postgraduate or additional qualifications (my degree seems to be increasingly worthless with each passing year) and/or experience. Both of these options are hugely appealing – but not realistic. I can’t return to university because I need to be earning in order to pay off my debts, coupled with the fact that I couldn’t actually afford to support myself and pay my fees whilst I was there. ‘Internships’ and work experience really pisses me off because I can’t afford to work for free. I’ll say it again: I CAN’T AFFORD TO WORK FOR FREE. It fucking sucks and makes me so angry, that only a limited minority with family in London or parents who can support them financially are allowed into the club. I feel like I’m as good, if not better, than all those privileged arseholes – but I can’t get a break. Every possible organisation I research regarding internships requires a minimum commitment of a least a month. This sucks giant fucking balls.

It makes me SO angry, and then it makes me really upset. Because I wasn’t born to be someone’s fucking secretary, and I feel like more doors are closing as time passes. It’s completely futile, but I also feel angry at the fucking bank that offered a twenty-five year old a £10K loan (paid back at more than £13K) back when I was only earning £13K. Corporate responsibility, anyone?

Living in Oxford is strange… it’s a beautiful place, but it’s essential to remember that Oxford is not the rest of the world. It’s this weird microcosm of privilege and inequality and it’s something I really struggle with… that and being the oldest person at the bar at the ripe old age of – ooh – twenty-nine. Sigh…

Tuesday 8 September 2009

Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women

I’ve just finished reading the introduction to “Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women” by Elizabeth Wurtzel. Have you heard of it? It was written in 1998, and has been collecting dust on my bookcase for as many years. The inside cover reads, “Bitch is a brilliant tract on the history of manipulative female behaviour, from biblical times through to trophy brides, political wives and dazzling depressives.” As indicated by the title, Wurtzel is attempting to reclaim and celebrate the label, and begins by exploring what traits are characteristic of a bitch and why it can be a positive term. In this sense, the book is a little dated, as so much has been written over the past 11 years about reclaiming the word, and why a refusal to tow the party line in terms of ‘acceptable’ female behaviour is progressive and powerful. Despite this, she highlights a number of issues that are even more relevant now than when she first wrote them.

Wurtzel quotes Ellen Wilis who argues that, “Feminism has transformed women’s consciousness without, as yet, transforming society, leaving a gap between what many of us demanded of a relationship and what most men were willing to give.” She challenges the reader to “go to any bookstore” and review the vast array – the industry, in fact – of self-help books for women who love too much/can’t keep a man/are fearful of abandonment/are addicted to love, before attempting to identify any similar works aimed at men who want to address their failure to commit/be faithful/non-possessive, etc. The reality? They don’t exist. They don’t need to. Why? “Men don’t have to change the way they sexually assess women, the way certain triggers and indications of female power or feminine weakness may frighten them off. They don’t have to because we women will learn to behave.” Depressingly, I still feel that this statement is all too true. Although there are exceptions, thanks be to Christ, it generally tends to be women that are expected to check and change any behaviour considered to fall outside the narrow margins of female acceptability, not men. As if to reinforce this position, Wurtzel quotes Susie Orbach, the feminist psychoanalyst, who states, “I see all sorts of young, confident women around, but when they’re in my consulting room, they talk about the same bloody issues we had thirty years ago. They’re afraid. Women in the most oppressive relationships are trying to manage them rather than get out of them. Only now, with no women’s movement, if you have problems you feel like a freak. All the problems are internalized.”

The sentence in bold above particularly resonates with me, as I have a close friend who I see making the same futile mistakes time and again with her partner. Rather than removing herself from an unhealthy relationship, I witness her pacifying and mollycoddling her controlling and possessive partner, rather than taking the zero tolerance approach that women would hopefully adapt if feminism had successfully filtered down to the personal. In this situation, the problems are her male partners’, who repeatedly refuses to acknowledge or take any responsibility for them, whilst she suffers considerably as a result. Attempts at assertiveness are often met with threatening and aggressive behaviour, while she chooses to display typically female traits of acceptance, control and denial “out of love”. She’s 21 years old. What hope is there for the rest of womankind?

I’ll leave you with a quote used in the book that I’d quite like embedding in brass and hanging above the threshold to my pad:

“Women who pay their own rent don’t have to be nice.”

So remarked by novelist Katherine Dunn – all power to yer!