that’s what she said
The Team
From left... Nina Klaff is just trying out this whole feminism thing while she searches for a doctor/lawyer husband.
Joy Molan enjoys putting on silly voices, struggles with fringe maintenance. Annabel Nugent hates the LADbible, and gets mad Asian flush when she consumes alcohol but does it anyway.
Maya Jones suffers from mild addictions to extra mature cheddar and old episodes of Gossip Girl.
Jess Baxter enjoys long walks on the beach and wholesome memes. Elle May is tired and wants chocolate.
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issue 12 // winter 2016
Editors’ Letter It’s been a long year: the alt-right is rising and the future of feminism could
TWSS
be deemed bleak. At we wish that Trump’s campaign had been a publicity stunt for Black Mirror, that white women hadn’t propelled him to victory, and that the alt-right was still a far-away nightmare safely confined to meninist chatrooms. It is now more important than ever that we call
out
hate speech operating under the
guise of free speech and recognise
intersectionality as the core of the modern feminist movement.
The beauty of feminism is support
in times like these. So we give you this in the hope that you’ll find comfort in
what she said.
Love, Annabel
& Maya x
that’s what she said
‘Taboob’ Lily Eustace
A self portrait by
exploring the fine line between art and erotica and inspired by the radical nude selfportraits of Moderhson-Becker.
‘In light of the current free the nipple debate it seems boobs are somehow still very oppressed today.’
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“So you want to be a lad?”
issue 12 // winter 2016
Lucas Oakeley talks girls, cars and beer. First things first: I’m the realest. But besides from being one of the world’s few remaining Iggy Azalea fans I’m also a heterosexual, white male. Which means that my opinion doesn’t really account for a great deal considering I’m an unfortunate member of that elite majority made up of bankers, wankers, and Donald Trump supporters. It’s often difficult to wake up in the morning and not immediately hate myself as a result of the immense stupidity of my gender and race, but I often counteract that feeling of self-loathing by repeated listenings of Iggy Azalea’s ‘Go Hard or Go Home’ – her magnificently empowering contribution to the Fast & Furious 7 soundtrack. Speaking of Fast & Furious: CARS. Speaking of cars: GIRLS. Speaking of girls: BEER. Now that I’ve got that seamless segue out the way: cars, girls, and beer (otherwise known as the holy trinity of #LadCulture) are said to make up the mind, body, and spirit of every “proper” male in the universe. You know the kind: the type of bloke who takes his Tetley’s with two sugars and looks at you funny when you order an Oolong Tea. The type of bloke who only bought Yorkies back when they were “Not for girls” as part of some misogynistic crusade that he still can’t really explain to his mum. The type of bloke who only buys shampoo “For Men” because his hair is far too masculine and butch to ever be breached by scented coconut. For whatever reason, University appears to be a place where Lad Culture simply thrives, where it drains its life-force from innocent and unsuspecting Surrey Tom’s and Harry’s only to
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that’s what she said
transform them into Jaegerbomb-loving twats of the highest order. I’m not saying Jaegerbombs are bad, nor am I even suggesting that “Lads” are inherently bad people. Some of my closest friends would be considered “Lads”, and I myself am guilty of having exhibited what is otherwise known as “laddish behaviour”. My point is that the melting-pot of University is often a place where one finds themselves trying to fit in as quickly as possible. For some, friendships may be fostered through shared political views or an interest in similar hobbies. For others, it may simply be the fact that they’ve both got willies. And this may sound rather silly, but when you get a group of males together who share little in common apart from what dangles between their legs, this is typically when the most Laddish of behaviour begins to erupt. As a male myself it’s rather difficult to explain what this laddish eruption often feels like. So to aid the reader I will provide them with a 100% scientifically accurate case-study: It’s fresher’s week. Tom and Harry (whom we can forget are both from Surrey for this scientific study’s sake) live on the same floor and are trying to find some common ground at an absolutely mad pre-drinks being hosted by Grace from your course. Tom listens to Taylor Swift and reads Faust. Harry listens to Bach and reads as little as possible. What do Tom and Harry have to talk about? Once the obligatory “Oh, you study ____? That’s interesting!”s are out of the way, the two must find some sort of mutual interest. As is often the case in these sort of taxing social situations, the male brain tends to regress to the most basic of desires. The topic of conversation will therefore doubtlessly revolve around one or another of the following: Football? Probably. But Harry is more of a Tennis fan and he’s afraid this will make him seem like less of a man. Cars? Likely. But Tom’s license only permits him to drive an Automatic so he shies from the subject matter because he’s afraid it will make him seem like less of a man. Girls? Possibly. But Harry’s bisexual and is afraid of bringing this up too early in the friendship in case it make him seem like less of a man. Beer? Bingo. There’s no way that beer can possibly make one feel emasculated (unless of course you drink the unmanly kind). So the two do what every like-minded Fresher does to alleviate social anxiety: they get absolutely shit-faced. What happens next is a little like watching a lycanthrope at fullmoon, as both Tom and Harry’s conversation slowly starts to devolve into a series of guttural grunts and brutal gestures, their
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issue 12 // winter 2016
Indecipherable except from the severity of the fade of their short-backand-sides, these once bright, young men have found themselves turned into the most abhorrent of creatures known to the human race: Lads. They share Facebook posts made by SportsBible, LadBible, and any other heretic text they can get their hands on as they simultaneously praise their new messiah: Dapper Laughs. Life has become about “the sesh” and scraping a 2:1. Sunrise, sunset, their lives are dominated by thoughts of Sports Night, despite the fact only one of them actually plays a legitimate sport. And no, Quidditch doesn’t count. Sorry. This is how the phenomena of Lad Culture often arises, with a mixture of alcohol, fear, and the pack-like mentality of young men looking for a place in this world. Lad culture has almost become an unfortunate necessity of fitting in at University because the majority of males are simply too afraid to speak their minds and go against the grain of societal norms. It’s obviously going to take more than one wellintentioned lad to speak out against the abhorrence of cat-calling and the multiple other forms of sexual harassment that women are made to endure on a daily basis, but the more we encourage lads to not simply accept the behaviour their mates exhibit, the greater hope we have that more males will be educated on just what is acceptable lad behaviour and what is simply taking it too far. Stealing cones? A-okay. Getting a girl purposely drunk because you want to sleep with her? No-go. Now, despite this article being full of massive over-generalizations, I’d like to offer the disclaimer that there’s nothing actually wrong with loving cars, girls, and beer. I, for one, am a fan of all three. (I would add that there’s nothing wrong with liking Dapper Laughs but that’s simply not true. He’s shite. Stop sharing his videos). My issue with Lad culture is the problems that often arise when all other moral conduct is forgotten in wake of this trinity. So my final message to everyone is this: being a lad is fine, being a lad can be massive fun, but just make sure you’re a good lad and not a bad lad. Because a bad lad’s not a real lad, lad.
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Lucas Oakeley
mannerisms reverting to the most primitive possible as their eyes roam the around the room for the nearest “peng-ting” they can prey upon. Testosterone fills the air and Hugo and Spencer (this is Bristol, after all) are soon drawn to the same pack. No longer do Tom, Harry, Hugo, and Spencer sit round a settee that Grace will definitely not be getting her deposit back from, but rather a homologous group of likeminded lad-iness perches there instead.
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Bethan Davies It’s now or never This thing called life Is no bed of roses. But Normality is a paved road: Comfortable to walk but no flowers grow there. Its now or never Does that not scare. Scare. Scare you? No babies. No bones. Scared yet? Imagine The absence in your lap The night’s silence with no cries No cries of ‘mummy’. That name Won’t be For you. It’s now or never Choose to recover. Begin your life. FUCK THIS. FUCK YOU. And the guilt? Guilt never killed anyone. This does. It’s now or never This Friday I will say ‘I will start to get better’ every day I’ll keep demons at bay Every day These words I’ll say. It’s now or never You could hide Stay in the shell Why not? Because life is for the living. Listen to the old brag of your heart. I am, I am, I am.
It’s now or never The big 21 is here. And so, Goodbye to you. Cheerio. I have nothing to thank you for. Goodbye self-hatred, shame and guilt; Fuck those impertinent bastards. Hello world. Its me. I’ve been away a while. Slowly I’m Coming Back. Realising The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time. Accepting life’s rich tapestry. Threads both light and dark. It’s now or never This thing called life Is no bed of roses. But laughter, love, and happiness grows all around you. You know its there. Just let yourself join in. Let yourself flourish too. It’s now or never. Actually, wait, no. It’s now.
issue 12 // winter 2016
Nina Klaff
“Freedom of speech is only OK when I do it (when you do it, fuck you)” Maya Jones points out the hypocrisy of those who shout about free speech while silencing others. ‘No-platforming’, ‘censorship’, ‘free speech’: these words could sum up my time at university. Students wait, locked in a cold-war, ready to fight for their freedom - from the NUS. The media jumps on the bandwagon, facilitating a threatening image of liberal millennials locked away in their own safe spaces. Everyone is waiting for the next scandal to prove that Feminists Just Hate Free Speech. Countless articles cry censorship; the irony lost on their overwhelmingly privileged writers. We couldn’t silence you if we tried. University feminism is the latest victim of the free speech brigade. Thanks to a few high profile cases, it would seem that the main aim of feminist societies is to no-platform. In reality, the practise is rarely enacted and the truth is somewhat less newsworthy. Nevertheless, journalists on the left and right have united in their depiction of the angry, intolerant, student feminist. It was the icing on the cake when second-wave feminists joined the fight following objections to Germaine Greer’s talk at Cardiff University. Student feminists are betraying the sisterhood simply by suggesting that trans-exclusionary feminism has no place in a modern, intersectional movement. The result: we sit at home opening the latest abusive message from a middle-aged man in Texas, powerless to the feminist-hating storm of the internet. Sometimes it’s easier to laugh: at journalists who haven’t stepped foot in a university for twenty years but presume to know everything about student life; at feminists who use this craze as a means to push their own exclusionary agendas; at fellow students who despise FemSoc without ever having attended a meeting; at all those boys who think they know what’s good for feminism. Predictably, this reaction often leads to the accusation that feminists are shying away from the debate. We are not too scared to debate; we are just tired because it takes up vital energy explaining feminism again and again to every man that flirts with the alt-right. It should not be our job to educate. Feminism recognises that everyone has a responsibility to educate themselves on how their privilege marginalises others. This is why I am a firm believer that men play an important role in feminism: men must educate themselves and their fellow peers.
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issue 12 // winter 2016
When it comes to no-platforming, it needs to be reiterated that political correctness and free speech are not mutually exclusive. Being against racism, homophobia, sexism and transphobia does not make one against free speech. Allowing these prejudices to flourish under the disguise of free speech only further normalises xenophobia and creates an environment in which free speech is limited to a privileged few. No-platforming does not take away an individual’s platform in society but it does reassure affected students and fight against this normalisation. I believe that universities should encourage opposing opinions; I also believe that universities should not tolerate prejudice.
Being an active member of the feminist society has undoubtedly been my favourite part of university. But I will not miss the accompanying assumption that this means I want to censor everything. Students should be incensed by the views that we call out, instead of defending opinions they don’t necessarily agree with for the sake of free speech.
Maya Jones
The biggest irony in this debate is that free speech includes the right to anger. It is fundamentally hypocritical to argue so vehemently for free speech to extend to hate speech yet oppose those who respond angrily to controversial speakers. Anger may not be the most constructive or articulate reaction, but it is still a valid one. Dismissing a feminist response as such only plays into the angry feminist trope that we know all too well.
WITCH BITCH Calling all self-identifying women who believe in the power of sisterhood… put your witch hats on, ladies.
Jess Baxter discusses the only growing faith that puts women at the centre of prayer, ritual and worship.
On 8th November 2016, when all eyes were on a country that apparently needs to be Made Great Again, a group of young women took matters into their own hands. Arms intertwined, their minds merging together as one, without invoking violence in their highly charged thoughts, Vermont’s Feminists Against Trump “cast magical spells of love and feminism to destroy the Great Orange One and the racism, xenophobia and sexism he feeds on”. And so, one hundred witches cast a non-violent but all-powerful hex on the man himself. Whether you think it’s a load of baloney or if, like me, you identify as “spiritual but not buying into the inherently sexist and/ or corrupt religious establishments”, there are startling veins of truth and feminist possibility in the practise of paganism. But it’s just a bunch of orgy-supplying Satan worshippers, right? Actually, paganism is a faith with a focus on love for each other and for the earth. The fiery, homophobic hell of the Christian mind is impossible to worship since pagan followers don’t even believe in its existence. Paganism itself is an umbrella term for ancient and contemporary religions based on a reverence for nature. It has roots in Pre-Christian Druidism, Shamanism and Anglo Saxon folklore from ancient Europe, but also encompasses Wicca, an earth-based spiritual movement created in the 1950s. So you can identify as a pagan and not necessarily have to celebrate Beltane (May Day) or Samhain (All Hallow’s Day) or keep an altar of natural objects from the four elements as Wiccans do. Women and goddesses play an important role in the polytheistic traditions, and though there are male gods too, they mostly act as consort to the female deities. About fucking time, I hear you say. Wiccan views of divinity revolve around the idea of a general feminine, life-giving energy, often called the Great Mother, Maiden or Crone who is visually manifested in pagan art as well-known figures from other faiths such as the Graeco-Roman Artemis, Hindu Annapurna and Japanese sun goddess Amaterasu. Paganism is no crazier than any other major religion, though. Why is it more outrageous to praise the divinity in the on-going cycle of life and death, and thus make choices to care for the earth, than to believe that a guy turned water into wine for the sake of the sesh?
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issue 12 // winter 2016
There’s been much speculation overwomen’s involvement in witchcraft throughout history, both fictional and real: from Arthurian literature’s Moragine and Merlin, the Otherworld women from Celtic Irish poetry, and even Queen Stevie Nicks due to that glorious song ‘Rhiannon’. Misogynistic thinking throughout history has completely painted pagans as devil-worshipping harpies or diabolical healing women, and burnt them for it. In reality, you’ll find pagan handbooks that meditate on anarchist group building, how to overcome the horrors of sexual violence and the ways in which men can overcome patriarchal constructs to be able to participate in left-wing activism. .
Jess Baxter
There are startling similarities between paganism and other established religions. Christianity, for example, takes a considerable amount of tradition from the previous faiths. An image of the Green Man, a pagan forestinhabiting do-gooder who brings positive omens, can be found in nearly all British medieval churches. Julian of Norwich, as well, is best known for her English mystics that recall the ‘Blessed Be’ mantra of Wiccans and pagans alike: ‘all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well’. Both of these religious phrases echo the harmony that is endowed on an individual when they do good things for good people. In other words, you do what makes you happy as long as no one else is harmed. How easy is that?
“Your English is REALLY good!” Annabel Nugent discusses growing up half Chinese, rejecting Asian stereotypes, and internalised racism.
“Which one are you?”Mum asked, scanning the scribbly faces
of my childhood drawings. In response I pointed to a badly-drawn stick figure who did not have my black hair or my dark eyes; she was always blonde and blue eyed. It’s the earliest memory I have of wanting to be someone else. The lack of any meaningful Asian representation on television or in my tween magazine taught millions of young Asian girls like myself that we were not special, pretty, or interesting enough. Not even Mulan could convince me; she was different, she dressed like a man and was not meant to be pretty. Now she is a beautiful badass babe, but my tiny childhood brain had been conditioned to think of a woman’s value in terms of her attractiveness to men, and I believed that her bravery and honour couldn’t make up for her ‘failings’ as a woman. As a woman I had to be beautiful, but as an Asian woman I never could be. Growing up in Australia, the Asian girls I saw on television were exaggerated caricatures, ‘nerds’ with no interest in friends or boys. As I was uninterested in school and especially interested in boys, I couldn’t recognise myself in them. I began to distance myself from that part of me that’s Asian. My mixed heritage also caused some internal confusion over my sense of self. Moving to Indonesia ironically made it easier to dissociate myself from my Asian heritage. Overnight I had become white-passing and I welcomed the privileges that came with this new racial identity. I beamed at ‘compliments’ from Indonesians telling me how white I looked, how big my eyes were, and how Western I seemed. Language became a way for me to reject my Indonesian-ness; I resented my school’s compulsory bahasa Indonesia lessons and although my mum spoke to me in Indonesian, I refused to reply in my mother-tongue. When my family would go on holidays, I was embarrassed of my mum speaking to us in Indonesian – I distinctly remember her once crying in a shopping mall because she knew my sister and I were ashamed of her language, ashamed of her Asian-ness, and ashamed of our own. Moving to England came with its own set of difficulties that went beyond the usual anxiety that accompanies starting university, let alone in a new country. During Freshers’ Week I met boys that told me that Asians were their type, that they had a thing for “half-half girls”, that they liked that I was “different” and of course the standard ‘exotic’. I quickly came to terms with my new racial identity here in England. Strangers told me over and over that my English was really good (to which I bit my tongue); I was asked what my “real Oriental name” was when I said my name was Annabel. I felt more Asian than ever and it may sound strange but it was a complete shock to the system. I felt like my whole perception of self had been refracted. I was no longer surrounded
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by my multicultural peers in my international school but instead by people of whom the majority were white, born and bred in England. I began to feel like an outsider, but more than that I felt like an imposter who had been wearing a mask for the past seventeen years. I was feeling that familiar childhood pull towards one or the other: white or Asian. There has been no poignant moment of realisation and self-love, but instead it’s a continual process of re-education, surrounding myself with loved ones, and policing my own internalised racism. Although I no longer want to be that blonde blue-eyed stick figure, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still struggle with my racial identity. I love being Asian, but after all those years of racial denial, I find it difficult even to claim my own Asian-ness. I am told everyday that I am definitely not white, but it has become apparent that I am certainly not “really” Asian either. Peers of mine tell me they often “forget” I’m Asian, that I don’t “seem” Asian at all. These comments which are intended as compliments instead tell me I’m inadequate; I can be neither white nor Asian. My capacity to be Asian and my legitimacy as an Asian is continually being judged against the same stereotypes and caricatures that I saw on tv as a child. I am hyper-aware of my actions. Throughout the day I think, “did they do that because I’m Asian?”, “would the same thing have happened if I were white?’”or “if I do this thing, am I a bad Asian?”. I go through what millions of women of colour have experienced before me and will sadly experience after me: something that infects us until we come to believe we are less than; and makes us rethink all of our actions and our thoughts. It’s a disease which calls into question our entire identity.
Annabel Nugent 14
CAL
“​I took these while volunteering in Calais for a charity called Care4Calais. The first set of pictures are in December. The conditions were dire, there was little to no running water, sanitation, or accessibility to warmth which meant there was no protection from the cold winter. When I returned in the summer of 2016, things were noticeably
AIS
issue 12 // winter 2016
brighter and the refugees’ spirits were generally high. Now, I’m not sure what there would be left to see of The Jungle. It has been systematically demolished by French authorities, and those living there have been displaced again”. The University of Bristol Feminist Society is supporting refugees through the Pads For Refugees campaign.
Chesca Warley
Dear Mindy,
Serena Basra thanks Mindy Kaling for breaking down stereotypes of Indian women with her hilarious and unashamedly girly comedy. I was a young, bright-eyed 16 year old when I first encountered you. My mum called me into the living room to watch a trailer for a new comedy show and, to my amazement, the lead was an Indian woman. An individual that I finally felt was accessible to me, the lead character you created loved romantic comedies but this didn’t deter her from working hard and following her dreams. You opened up the door to a
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issue 12 // winter 2016 new world, one which broke free from the stereotypes that have been lauded in mainstream shows for what feels like an eternity. You created a show where an Indian woman isn’t expected to fall into the role of a nerd or a silent sidekick or someone with unabashed affinity for sex. You didn’t even present us with a shining example of how a minority should act or be expected to behave. Instead, you constructed “Mindy Lahiri”; a flawed, funny, and at times, delusional character. It was something real. It broke the boundaries of not just how a person of colour is expected to act in the eyes of the media, but also threw away expectations of feminine delicacy that are often aligned with a leading woman.
craft their own opportunities; in Forbes 2014-2015 rankings of the 15 highest paid television actresses, only three were women of colour. Sophia Vergara (Modern Family) was placed joint first whilst you and Kerry Washington were placed eighth and ninth respectively. Each of you appear to be reaping the benefits of starring in your own shows. It is undeniable that you work hard but one must recognise the roles that class and wealth play into this dynamic. In addition, at times I do fear you pander to white-washed audiences as the main cast list of your show features only two non-white individuals and you are one of them. You have already broken the mould for diversity by taking the lead in this sitcom. Could you now give other women the chance to do this?
The first woman of colour to write, executively produce and star in a sitcom is a momentous achievement, and one that has been a long time coming. You have a lot on your plate: The Mindy Project, your literary career, and burgeoning film work to name but a few. However, in a show where you are granted the privilege of exercising a great deal of creative influence, I do feel like you need to be more active when dealing with your show’s cultural implications. In a culture where people of colour are consistently whitewashed by the media, you have the opportunity to, somewhat, change the dialogue. You have acknowledged that the path to success for a woman of colour is tangled and difficult. When asked at the 2016 Women in the World Summit if you could have secured a leading role in television without creating it yourself, you said “I think the slightly sad answer is no”. It seems apparent in Hollywood that women of colour are expected to
In essence I would term this letter as one of heartfelt thanks. Thank you for breaking the mould and for creating a space in which I, as a British-Asian woman, can watch someone who looks more like me than ever before and who feels truly human. Thank you for being so articulate and funny whether that is in your writings for The Office or when you are fearlessly discussing women’s issues at a conference. Finally, thank you for giving me a life mantra (written initially for your character Mindy Lahiri): “It’s so weird being my own role model”.
Sending good wishes,
Serena Basra
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Nina Klaff discusses her own experiences with the contraceptive pill. Birth control has come a long way from the pessaries of crocodile dung used by the Ancient Egyptians. Condoms made of treated linen and animal tissue were replaced by ones made of rubber in the midnineteenth century, and the twentieth century especially saw a rapid evolution in contraceptive methods. When Margaret Sanger persuaded Gregory Pincus to work on a pill that could prevent pregnancies, she entered them into a race with chemist Carl Djerassi, who had already begun synthesising hormones from Mexican yams in 1951. Within a decade, the pill had been given the green light for contraceptive use. For those of us that would rather opt out of drinking a toxic ancient Chinese concoction of Mercury and oil that could leave us altogether infertile, the pill is still an attractive option. However, in the fifty years since its approval, there has been much concern over its safety. In the U.S. alone, there have been a staggering 10,000 lawsuits against Bayer Healthcare Corporation, the plaintiffs being former users of Yaz, a birth control pill that can have side effects such as blood clots, heart disease, and strokes. The risks of this form of contraception aren’t just limited to physical symptoms. At the end of September this year (2016), the Mail Online reported that ‘women who use contraception are 70% more likely to be on antidepressants’. This isn’t my usual resource, I can assure you, but the headline brought back vivid memories of trotting along to the Family Planning clinic down the road, under my mother’s guidance. She was not only keen for me to be safe, but thought that perhaps my painful periods would be alleviated by taking the combined pill. The doctors agreed and a blood pressure monitoring and a lecture later, I’d left the practice armed with a year’s worth of Microgynon 30. While I’m reluctant to revisit my own history with depression, I can tell you that in retrospect, the evidence suggests it was more than a mere coincidence that within weeks of picking up my prescription, I was back in my GP’s office taking them up on their offer of free counselling for under 18s. I am still not clear as to why those 336 pills came with nothing more than a leaflet on possible side effects, which inevitably ended up in the bin. Out of fear of being scolded, and in my naive belief in my own invincibility, I had omitted my smoking from my assessment form. As a result, I wasn’t told that it could not only impact the effectiveness of the
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of not getting knocked up
The knock-on effects
issue 12 // winter 2016
pill, but also seriously increase my chances of heart disease, and kept puffing away to the tune of a pill a day. The allure of being able to choose which weeks to miss swimming lessons quickly eclipsed my younger self ’s concern for my health, and I often found myself skipping my monthly withdrawals. After having struggled for years with severe mood swings and a number of other unpleasant symptoms that I began to link to the pill, I decided to come off it in October 2015, and this is when I saw the consequences of interfering with my hormones for a prolonged period of time. When I hadn’t had a period by May the following year, I was understandably anxious. Having been born by IVF, my own fertility has always been of some concern. I sought medical help but my GP simply told me to wait it out, as it can often take over a year for things to go back to normal. Still suffering from amenorrhea, I turned to acupuncture this September. The next evening - at someone else’s house of course, Mother Nature waits for no party - my friends cheered as they pushed tampons to me under the bathroom door. My acupuncturist asked for some blood tests, which were inconclusive, but when I told my GP of my positive response to the complementary therapy, they wanted to investigate further. I was sent for an ultrasound, and to my relief, was told there was nothing structurally wrong with my insides. It’s too early to tell if this means I’m all up and running again or if it was just a one off. Either way, it is undeniable that the pill wreaked havoc with my body. For there to be a way of avoiding getting knocked up without any side effects is still too good to be true. After years of holding my hands with my friends as they had plastic hormonal bullets implanted into their arms or their fallopian tubes clasped together, I firmly believe it’s time we all had an equal variety and quality of options to take responsibility for our own sexual activity that isn’t what the bible called coitus interruptus - a.k.a. the pull out method. And until they come up with a solution that also protects you from STIs and STDs, I think I’ll stick to my prescription of healthy fats and condoms.
Nina Klaff
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Five stages of grief :
times a boy made me cry One.
Three.
you left before I could say goodbye
but a span a singular exception was what it was and nothing more
did you think I was funny? you said my topics were dull – I hope you don’t think I am too Two. but hush but now, stay still but do not speak take my arm and lead me away from the crying crowds of the party I am yours now and you know this as your grip gives insight into the length and width I will submit myself before I let you leav
Four. broken bones from the fall to the bottom of the stairs as she tripped herself up on purpose Five. and now I sit and watch you fall as I once fell with you
Tasha Young
Sam Stone
I
am a feminist
Muslim
Afrida Hussain explains how wearing a hijab can be an empowering choice.
It’s empowering, it really is (as cliché as it might sound). Choosing to follow Islam and to wear the hijab was a decision I made six years ago. As a twenty-two year old looking retrospectively, it has honestly been the best decision I have ever made. Prior to this I was a “Muslim” but chose not to actively follow the religion. But as I progressively learnt more about Islam, the more I fell in love. Islam taught me about my rights as a woman and it motivated me to work hard academically and socially, to strive for the community and to better myself each day. It inculcated in me a passion for education, seeking knowledge, becoming a doctor, basing my self-value on my interior and not my exterior.
To the surprise of many, Islam honoured me and I felt proud to be a Muslim women. I had no idea what oppression people were talking about. With regards to Islam and feminism, in the eyes of Allah, the one whom we strive to please, everyone is equal. The differentiating factor between any human-being is based on piety and good character, not our looks and property. I didn’t and don’t feel the need to compete with anyone, whether it’s over wealth, money, job or status. I feel as a woman Islam gave me the right to do everything I wanted to do. More importantly, it gave me
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issue 12 // winter 2016
everything I needed to fulfil my purpose in life. The right to education, privacy, voting, choosing a partner, property, wealth; the list is endless. Ironically, Islam blesses women with rights that are generally thought to be denied to Muslim women. Perhaps this myth is due to cultural issues in many Muslim countries. Whilst the prophet’s wife rode camels on the same lands that today’s women are not permitted to drive on, it is no wonder that public perception of Islam is so poor. My hijab is a reminder that I don’t need the approval of anyone but God. In reality, seeking the approval of God will ultimately lead to the approval of people since Allah ordains that our behaviour with his creation is loving, gentle, fair and just. This formula can only create an atmosphere of peace in all walks of life. When I say I don’t need to seek the approval of people, here is an elaboration on what I mean: I don’t feel the need to gain approval of men because they should appreciate me as a woman; one who contributes to this society, works, studies and uses my intellect and abilities to provide benefit to this world. I should be loved for these things and not for my sexuality, and not because I fit society’s definition of ‘beauty’. I want to be loved for the way I am and not the way I look. This allows me to be myself; to be natural, genuine, and the best version of what God created me. Having said that, of course, we all want to be liked in society. No one wants to be disliked or appear alien. So at times, in coming up to my sixth year wearing the hijab, I feel as though people underestimate me as a hijaabi. Both Muslim and non-Muslim. At times I feel like I want to prove everyone wrong. But the fact that I have to prove to others what Muslim women are like is unfortunate, and intrinsically wrong. So I choose to continue with what I’m doing. I hope to inspire others and have faith that one day the world will realise the lies, misconceptions and myths about Islam.
Peace,
Afrida Hussain
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Illustrations: Kate Dickinson
Babes for Trump Why would you As a woman?
Not for your daughter Not because your great-grandmother
Held placards in curled hands And wrapped herself In chains of snakes
Outside a building filled Like milk-jug to brim With trouser-legs and Pocket watches.
Alright, not your great-grandmother. Someone’s, then.
They held her Shoulder blades scratching tallies on the floor And pushed calories inside of her
Because survival was warmer than death And life, and woman, had never been a choice.
These were some great days when Everything was tinted orangey-brown
issue 12 // winter 2016
And smiles were banned from photos and They built the dance-corset, no, really, they did -
So you could move With what seemed like sweet, elegant, ladylike, feminine Freedom but still breathless,
Breathless always breath Less from the outside.
Why would you? It’s here, today and I Find myself now breathless
Not for any grabbed maybe-daughter Or any other twinkle in a Maybe-mother’s eye
But for some not-distant, not-old world – Not those sepia days but somewhere – That yesterday had seemed Filled like a cornucopia fit for Athena, Shuddering and exploding With such possibilities.
Fran Newton
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MASTURBATION of myself the night before: a spotty teenage vision in starry-print pyjamas, hands in pants in front of some NC17 Ron and Hermione fanfiction.
why there’s nothing wrong with a bit of ‘Me Time’.
The first time I publicly broached the subject of wanking, I was in a science lesson. Not biology, but physics — strangely appropriate, because my musings on that day seemed to disrupt the entire fabric of the secondary school space-time continuum.
By sixth form, it was more acceptable among my more sexually experimental friends to at least admit that they knew what masturbation was. Until the age of sixteen, I’d found that, almost uniformly, a perfect blend of extreme confusion and mild distaste would be the response to mentions of girls I was thirteen or fourteen years old and in the zygotic phase of my feminist happening to flick the bean. Given that development. I didn’t know much, but this was the reaction of most of the girls I knew I didn’t like what I heard when I knew at the time, I was surprised when The Boys started talking about shaking most of them seemed to know where babies actually came from. “I don’t know hands with the little soldier. Before what that is, but if I did, WHICH I the sound “mast” could even leave DON’T, BY THE WAY, I would think the mouth of the first boy, the patient it was kinda gross.” To bring it back to zero, the young men would glide physics, I had had my first encounter effortlessly into formation: an iron with the concept of Schrodinger’s curtain of dick-having, the Spaffish Armada, a standing-to-attention army Sexually-Muted Young Woman. ready for hand-to-gland combat. Schrodinger’s Sexually-Muted Young I stuck my head above the parapet for a brief moment to interject: “yeah, but I bet girls do that too”. I was met by mixed expressions which suggested that I had just told the funniest joke of all time, but then went on to vomit all over each and every one of them. Quickly reassuring everyone that of course, I didn’t mean myself (nb: I did), I only meant that there must be some girls out there who liked to touch themselves. Surely. I furrowed my brow and feigned scientific curiosity appropriate for the laboratory. Embarrassed and slightly shamed, I tried to avoid my own mental image
Woman is the young cis woman whose pussy is touched and untouched simultaneously: she is sexually enticing and satisfying, but only for the gratification of men, and only in their presence. Unless clutching onto a suitably masculine hunk, her sexuality is grotesque and gauche. Being sexual for the sake of her own desire is uncouth. It is this phenomenon that leads young women to be embarrassed when talking among themselves, and shamed when talking with young men. Many straight teenage boys, as most who know one will confirm, are blessed with the divine capability of being able to wank to anything. This includes
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A Touchy Subject
Francesca Collins explains
issue 12 // winter 2016
Sexuality is fine, it is healthy, and it can be incredibly liberating. No young woman should be embarrassed by orgasmically shaking legs and strange jaw alignments. All young women should feel that, should they want to, they can openly celebrate their own personal sexual victories. When we seem to coach young women into believing that their bodies are not for their own enjoyment, we are teaching them that their bodies are not their own, that Some Other Entity Somewhere has jurisdiction over their hands, their genitalia, their curling toes. I doubt I need to explain why we should all find that alarming. pornography and cam-shows of girls getting themselves off. Or girls wanking alongside one another. Or girls wanking and then being ‘walked in on’ by ‘accident’ by their ‘horny uncles’. When hot girls behind screens masturbate for boys, for the camera, for money, it’s hot. When young women in general — 3D, sometimes acned, sometimes bespectacled, and always glorious — decide to wank, it’s uncomfortable. Teenage boys, although equally as acned and bespectacled, instead get a seal of approval and a (potentially sticky) high-five. We need to make sure these young women know that masturbating is fine. We need to make sure that young men know that girls masturbating is fine (yes, even offscreen).
For me, masturbation has been a great reclamation of my body, a magnificent personal journey along my Great Wall of Vagina. To get to this place, though, I had to have a lot of awkward conversations, tell a lot of half-truths and clear a lot of search history. Let’s change this for the next generation of fledgling feminists — let’s have an open, unashamed, happy conversation about self-love that respects and reflects the experiences of all genders. Change can come, and I hope you’ll all join me in riding the wave.
Francesca Collins
that’s what she said
Nina’s Horoscopes
Sagittarius – November 22 to December 21: ‘Truth is powerful and it prevails’ (ojourner Truth, 26/11/1883). Capricorn – December 22 to 20 January: ‘There are still many causes worth sacrificing for, so much history yet to be made’ (Michelle Obama, 17/01/1964). Aquarius – January 21 to February 19: ‘Your silence will not protect you’ (Audre Lorde, 18/02/1934). Pisces – February 20 to March 20: ‘Human beings have an instinct for freedom’ (Lupita Nyong’o, 01/03/1983). Aries – March 21 to April 19: ‘I’m a feminist, I’ve been a woman for a long time now. It’d be stupid not to be on my own side’ (Maya Angelou, 04/04/1938). Taurus – April 20 to May 19: ‘The legal subordination of one sex to another – is wrong in itself ’ (John Stuart Mill, 20/05/1806). Gemini – May 20 to June 20: ‘Who you are authentically is alright’ (Laverne Cox, 29/05/1984). Cancer – June 21 to July 22: ‘When the whole world is silent, even one voice becomes powerful’ (Malala Yousafzai, 12/07/1997). Leo – July 23 to August 21: ‘I think quotes are very dangerous things’ (Kate Bush, 30/07/1958). Virgo – August 22 to September 22: ‘Culture does not make people. People make culture’ (Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, 15/09/1977). Libra – September 23 to October 22: ‘If you are silent in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor’ (Desmond Tutu, 07/10/1931). Scorpio – October 23 to November 21: ‘Don’t let the bastards grind you down’ (Margaret Atwood, 18/11/1939).
29
Inside Joy
Molan’s mind . . .
issue 12 // winter 2016
11 reasons why you should empower yourself with the new red by CHANEL but if bad feminists wear makeup does that make me good bad clean eating don’t wash your hair everyday live every day like your last parents about your overdraft then remember Two
Live Laugh Lie to your
Big Things Feminism Gets
Wrong while white male writers MUST have the freedom to write anything about me and you maybe if we weren’t so stressed we’d talk more we have more opportunities than ever before does that make me grateful or just guilty pleasures simple pleasures like a coffee in the Hawthorns while I work life balance university no platforms shoes bags dresses search price low to high because the cost of living standard night out in the cold reminds me of those not so lucky like
Are Unlucky in Love
5 Rules for Women Who
who Look At How Much Coffee Millennials Are Drinking while in the meantime remembering 7 Posts That Are Worth Checking Out On
Instagram and do it for The Women Who Condemned Trump’s
Sexism heal
which isn’t a problem anymore in this post-Brexit Britain will wounds ever
#Lexit #LetMeTakeASelfie
obsessed with handmade organic locally
sourced ways you can prioritise your time with
10 Famous Celebrities That
Went From Hot to Not wanting to leave the shower because the heating is
broken and I left my towel next door but maybe I’ll learn from my mistake to pledge £350 million to fund the NHS while a New
U.N. report says world’s refugee crisis is worse than anyone could have expected because You MUST
Be Selfish to Attract Women who think they have it all
but are now at breaking point because no one can have it all the time on demand like that Netflix and Chill text at 2AM from that guy off
Tinder Could Be Ruining
Our Relationships last longer when you share like favourite and retweet and Check
Real AF Jokes That Will Make All Feminists Laugh but Out 5 Ways To Play It Cool on this blog which promotes ethically endorsed
not like the ones lads told in Freshers’ Week consent workshops which make me feel safe but were left empty as no one turns up to seminars anyway so it’s fine I didn’t do the work instead I’ll stay home and watch #ORIGINAL #CONTENT I’ve seen twice already because When Will Feminism’s Work Be Done and I should really be planning my future career prospects of an English graduate aren’t great but in the end I guess it’s all fine because at least they didn’t take our Marmite.
Created by Jess Baxter & Elle May. With thanks to: Poppy Boys-Stones. Rivka Cocker. Beth Cole. Kate Dickinson. Daisy Wakefield. Willa Bennett. Nina Klaff. Joy Molan. Annabel Nugent. Maya Jones. Lily Eustace. Lucas Oakeley. Bethan Davies. Francesca Collins. Chesca Warley. Serena Basra. Tasha Young. Sam Stone. Afrida Hussain. Fran Newton.