For BBC Women's Hour: Know your place!

A dream come true! I got interviewed on BBC Women's Hour! Me and Cath Bore are about 7 minutes in.

For Open Democracy 50:50: Living without men

I really enjoyed writing this feature for Open Democracy 50:50 on women-only communities, organising and living down the ages.

For the New Statesman: If you're scared of a boy in a tutu, ask yourself whose side you're on

I wrote a first response for the New Statesman on the CofE guidance on sexist, transphobic and homophobic bullying.

For the Pool: Trump Trauma One Year On

On the anniversary of waking up to Trump, I wrote for the Pool about the trauma of that morning.

For the New Statesman: Jacob Rees-Mogg is wrong again

The NS used a different headline.

Stop joking about Jacob Rees-Mogg – his views on abortion and rape are hurtful and harmful

Male Twitter has of course decided I am the *worst* as a result of this piece. 

For politics.co.uk: We need to stop using sexism as a political pawn

Funny how so many people care about misogyny when it means they can have a go at people they don't like.

I wrote this about how sexism isn't a pawn in your left-right game.

For Prospect UK: review of Cynthia Cockburn's Looking to London

I reviewed Cynthia Cockburn's newest, Looking to London.

This also appeared in the print ed.

For City Metric: earlier this year a boy hit me on the street near my house

This was in response to MeToo and also as part of the wider Festival Future Cities work I was involved with.

“Earlier this year, a boy hit me on the street near my house.”

#MeToo - If you let them know it bothers you, then they'll do it even more

A long time ago, the day after I got my hair cut into a 1920s style bob, a male colleague asked me if my boyfriend gave me a pearl necklace to go with my hairstyle. 

I didn’t know what he meant. Idiotically, I told him I did have a pearl necklace but I wouldn’t wear it to work. 

Cue much hilarity as him and my other male colleague fell about laughing at my naiveté. 

(if, like me, you don’t know what a pearl necklace is, here’s the Urban Dictionary definition which I then looked up) 

I’m telling you this because of #MeToo, and because women sharing men’s inappropriate behaviour in the workplace got me considering the inappropriate comments I experienced in the workplace when I was younger, and my relationship with those comments, and my feelings of self-blame and complicity. 

But first I need to explain: I didn't endure sexual harassment in the workplace. This comment, and the other incidents I’ll share, were one-offs over a period of time. The colleague wasn’t predatory and I didn’t feel threatened. Embarrassed, pissed off, but not threatened. I appreciate and respect other women have other definitions and boundaries of what sexual harassment is and looks like, and I would never presume to police them.

The pearl necklace comment was very early on in that job. 

Another occasion — I’ve always been ‘out’ about my gay family, because why wouldn't I be? So my colleague knew my mum is gay. One evening he stood up and started rubbing his torso and making kissing faces, saying my mum had made these gestures and actions to him, telling him she wanted him. Another colleague chipped in: ‘X you could be the one to turn her’. 

I was furious. I was embarrassed. I also didn’t know what to say, how to react, because I was so shocked. I think I mustered a ‘glad you think my mum being gay is so hilarious’ but they were laughing and so I don’t think they heard me. 

When I told my staunchly feminist friend about this, she said it was homophobic and sexist harassment and I should complain. I remember thinking about the tight friendship group between the men in my team (in the end, I did say something). 

That was around the time I first started to consider leaving the job. 

Another incident — I was walking back to my desk and the team had had some good news. My colleague and another one sandwiched me between them and started jumping me up and down. 

It’s hard to explain the action — they literally squashed me between their bodies and jiggled me up and down. 

I started yelling at them to get off. I wasn't playing along with the joke, I was panicking. I wanted them to get off me. I feel like I started screaming. 

They stopped in the end, they’re sarcastic ‘all rights’ heavy with disapproval at my ‘overreaction’. 

I remember thinking at the time that I’ve never been raped or severely assaulted, but if I had been then something like that could be horribly triggering. 

I left not long after this. There were plenty more reasons for leaving, but a general ennui about this kind of behaviour was a factor in that decision. I also brought up the second of these three incidents in my exit interview. 

When I told someone outside of work about that final incident, and about how I reacted, they laughed. They said it was my fault they jumped me up and down, because I let on how much it bothered me to be touched, and so they just do it more. 

If they know it bothers you then of course they’ll do it more, to wind you up.

Those weren’t the only things that happened but they are the three I remember. 

When I was younger, I used to try and position myself as one of the boys. I tried to be the Cool Girl, which never worked because I was also an angry feminist who was always going on about women’s issues. I tried to be the Cool Girl because I wanted to be liked. I cared desperately about being liked. 

So when the pearl necklace joke happened, and I deciphered its meaning, I didn’t complain. I had to tell myself the reason he said that to me was because I could take it, because really I was one of the boys.

After all, on other occasions I was rewarded for being one of the boys. For getting it. That’s important, in thinking about structures and power and what’s expected of women. 

The other option, that he was saying it not because I *got* it, but because I was a woman, a young woman — that I didn’t want to consider. 

I don’t blame myself for propping up that sort of low-level workplace sexism, as I understand why I did it. 

I do however question how complicit I was, particularly when I was younger. And how in that complicity, it made it harder to feel I had a right to my anger and discomfort later on. Writing this, I still worry that I’m overreacting, that I’m over sensitive, that another woman in my place would have got the joke and made one back.

There’s this battle: I was upset and embarrassed by the pearl necklace comment at the time, but I didn't say anything and I laughed it off. I proved my status as one of the guys, I proved I could *take* it. And yet I was embarrassed and offended. However my lack of vocalising that offence made it difficult to feel I had (and, consequently, have) a *right* to those feelings of upset. 

(this is something that I think about a lot, and struggle with a lot, in various aspects of my life)

I am frustrated, also, in case my early complicity then made it harder for women who came after to me to complain, if they needed to or wanted to. 

So there is this sense of self-blame and self-recrimination, and guilt at my self-perceived oversensitivity: even though on another level I know there was little I could do, as a young woman starting a new job. 

Even though I know, and knew then, that jokes about a man ejaculating on my neck are not appropriate for the workplace ever, in any context, at any point. 

For the Pool: Let’s stop romanticising the misguided, possibly dangerous actions of spurned men

Let's stop romanticising the misguided, possibly dangerous actions of spurned men

For the New Statesman: The damage to Samantha the sex robot shows male aggression being normalised

The damage to Samantha the sex robot shows male aggression being normalised

For politics.co.uk: Where's Conservative compassion for Afghan asylum seekers?

Where's Conservative compassion for Afghan asylum seekers?

For politics.co.uk: While we celebrate a new royal baby, poor families are being punished for having a third child

While we celebrate a new royal baby, poor families are being punished for having a third child

For Prospect UK: From Trump to Jacob Rees-Mogg, it’s time to start taking “eccentric” politicians seriously

From Trump to Jacob Rees-Mogg, it’s time to start taking “eccentric” politicians seriously

For politics.co.uk Domestic violence solicitor: 'I've been forced out by government cuts'

The cuts to legal aid are draining the legal sector of women solicitors specialising in domestic and sexual abuse.

Former solicitor, domestic abuse support worker, and union superstar Taranjit Chana explained all to me.

Have a read.

For Bristol 24/7: Bristol’s silence about our slavery past cannot continue

I had my say about statues and slavery.

Have a read.

For the Dial: Charlottesville - could it happen here?

In the wake of fascism rising in the USA, I asked if it could happen here.

Have a read.

For Prospect: a review of The High Places

As part of Prospect's look back on the books of the year so far, I reviewed Fiona McFarlane's short story collection, The High Places.

Have a read.

For Prospect UK: Time and again, we find that terror suspects have a history of domestic violence. What will it take for us to listen to women?

In the wake of Charlottesville, I wrote about the so-called alt-right, violent misogyny and white supremacist violence.

It was pretty depressing.

You can read it here.

For politics.co.uk: Channel 4's latest poverty porn makes entertainment out of a crisis

I wrote for politics.co.uk about Channel 4's TV show The Great Property Giveaway and how it's poverty porn for the housing crisis.

Have a read.

For Elle magazine: The outfit I'll never wear again

Well this is pretty cool.

Elle magazine ran a writing competition, asking for a piece of memoir on 'the outfit I'll never wear again'.

And out of nearly 1000 entries, I was a runner up!

It was about my life as a ballet dancer.

Have a read.

For politics.co.uk: The Lola Ilesnami case highlights the Home Office’s failings

I wrote a follow up to my piece about the Lola Ilesanmi case.

This one covers the Home Office failings and the need for change.

Have a read

For the Guardian: Wake up, Boots. You can’t judge women who need the morning-after pill

I wrote for the Guardian about Boots' decision to keep the cost of the morning after pill artificially high.

Wake up, Boots. You can't judge women who need the morning after pill

Today Boots said they would review the costs - whoop whoop!

For the New Statesman: A rape-able sex robot makes the world more dangerous for women, not less

I wrote about sex robots for the New Statesman.

A rape-able sex robot makes the world more dangerous for women, not less

It was horrible. 

For politics.co.uk: Will the Home Office deport a three year old girl to face genital mutilation?

I wrote the politics.co.uk about the case of a family facing deportation to Nigeria, where the daughter is at risk of female genital mutilation.

Have a read

For OD 50:50 - five British LGBT writers on books that inspired them

I asked writers Paul Burston, Eley Williams, Prof Deborah Cameron, Saleem Haddad and Claire Heuchan to share the LGBT writers who inspired them, in celebration of Pride.

I also talked about Colette.

Have a read

Artist in residence at Wales Arts Review

It's the 1st July which means my month-long residency at Wales Arts Review has begun!

I'll upload all the links to this one post so as not to have a bazillion separate posts on the blog throughout the month.

The work I'm producing for the residency explores issues of home, travel, migration and the refugee crisis. I'll also be sharing snippets from a WIP that explores the refugee crises in 2016 and 1938.

You can read all about it in my intro to the residency.

Some of the pieces will feature illustrations by Robert Griggs and Johnny Davies.

The intro

Two poems: Arch, and Endings

The Fur Collar (this is a segment from my longer WIP)

The Dress (short story

Train, with original illustration by Johnny Davies

Homecoming, with original illustration by Robert Griggs

At the border (this is a segment from my longer WIP)

At Yarls Wood (this is a segment from my longer WIP)

In conversation with Women for Refugee Women

Tents, with original illustration by Johnny Davies

Want, with original illustration by Robert Griggs

The Pipka Refugee Camp: a conversation

For Prospect UK: The government’s u-turn on abortion is welcome—but it’s not enough

On a day of exciting new for abortion rights in the UK, I wrote for Prospect magazine on why the change is welcome but not enough.

The government’s u-turn on abortion is welcome—but it’s not enough

A quick, personal reflection on health and safety

One of the stories I grew up with as a kid was the story of when my granddad’s friend died. 
It was a ghost story – or that’s how it was told when we were kids. A premonition by my spiritualist great-nana. 

The story was this. 

My granddad had a job on the steelworks in Shotton. He and his friend were sat side-by-side, eating their lunch. A load of steel fell from a great height and killed his friend. 

This happened in the era before ‘health and safety’ or ‘elf and safety’ as it is called by Richard Littlejohn, a man for whom humour is defined by ‘putting on a funny accent’.

When you’ve grown up with stories like this, you don’t understand the demonization of health and safety regulations. The fervent desire of the Tory Party to rip up the red tape that protects our health and safety makes no sense. 

The hatred of health and safety can only come from people who have only ever been healthy and safe. Who haven’t had to work with huge containers of steel dangling precariously above their head. Who didn’t, as my dad did, witness his friends die as bombs hit his ship. Who didn’t die, as my granddad did, less than ten years after retirement having spent a chunk of his life working in a manual labour job. 

Health and safety saves lives. The idea that regulations which prevent work-placed deaths are somehow something to mock comes from a position of privilege. The idea that regulations are something to declare war on comes from a position of privilege. 

When David Cameron and Steve Hilton dreamt up their Red Tape Challenge, they did it from the position of flirting with businesses who saw regulation as a barrier to profit. 

They didn’t do it from a position of watching their friend crushed under tonnes of steel during their lunch break. 

For the New Statesman: Barring Northern Irish women from NHS abortions is no technicality

Last week I seemed to write a lot about abortion rights.

Here I am in the New Statesman writing about how the Supreme Court's decision to deny NI women NHS abortions was a deeply political act.

Have a read

For Prospect UK: Women’s bodies are under threat—so why don’t they get the same attention as gay rights?

My debut for Prospect UK was published last week.

It's called: Women’s bodies are under threat—so why don’t they get the same attention as gay rights?

Have a read

From Trump to Guido - the sexist genie must go back in the bottle

On 9th November I was up at 6am hastily rewriting an article about how Trump’s Presidential campaign had let the sexism genie out the bottle and that it was going to be hard to put it back in. The rewrite was due to the fact the first draft had relied on Clinton winning… but anyway. I wrote:

This is one of the many terrifying things about the advent of Trump's presidency. His success sends a message that you can boast about abusing women's bodily integrity and still become the most powerful man in the world. His success sends a message that it is okay to use physically and sexually violent rhetoric when talking about women, and win. Throughout his whole campaign, he has appealed to that section of men who believe they are entitled to women's bodies. He has fired up a section of men who believe that women are second-class citizens. His language and his actions have given sexists and misogynists not only comfort, but legitimacy.

I was reminded by this article because I woke up this morning to a tweet (the link goes to my tweet, not his) from Guido Fawkes where he “joked” about ‘consoling’ Diane Abbott, accompanied by a selfie of him in bed with her face photoshopped on the pillow next to him. 

I saw this tweet, and I thought about what I wrote in November. Because it feels part of the same trajectory - the increased normalisation of sexism and, in Abbott’s case, racism that make it okay to write sexual jokes - even threatening sexual jokes - about women MPs and women in the public eye. 

It’s important to note that Fawkes isn’t some random egg troll. He’s a well-known, widely-read political commentator. And he thinks it’s acceptable to photoshop a woman MP’s face in bed next to him, while joking about ‘consoling’ her. 

As a woman writing online, I instantly recognised Fawkes’ ‘play’ with his tweet. I’ve been on the receiving end of it myself. It’s the ‘she just needs a good shagging, that’ll shut her up’. It’s the idea that if women complain about the state of the world or the way they’ve been treated, it’s because we’re ‘frustrated’ and we just need a man to sort them out. 

You may remember David Cameron using that tactic to shut up Nadine Dorries. And I HATE having to defend Nadine Dorries. 

Put simply, this attitude is rooted in the idea that women who speak out are actually just incredibly undesirable to men and our anger is actually due to the fact that no men will have sex with us. If we could just find a man willing to ‘take one for the team’ and have sex with us, we’ll shut the fuck up. 

It’s quite a sexually threatening thing to say. It’s certainly completely unacceptable for a political commentator - indeed anyone - to say about a woman in the public eye, or, indeed, any woman. 

These kinds of comments have one clear purpose and one purpose only. They are to remind women that no matter how successful we are, no matter how long we’ve been an MP, no matter how much we have survived to get to where we are today, we are just an object to be deemed fuck-able or not by a man. We’re just objects to use and abuse. We’re either too ugly for men to want to fuck us, so we’ve failed as acceptable women. Or we’re too sexy for our own good, and therefore not to be taken seriously. We can never be seen as fully human woman doing our jobs, getting on with our lives.

It didn’t start with Trump. There was Letts in the Daily Mail bemoaning how ugly British women MPs were long before Donald started his march to the White House. But I do think the kind of rhetoric that Trump indulged in during his campaign, and which he actively encouraged from his supporters, helped to normalise this kind of language. He gave legitimacy to the idea that men could make crude sexual comments about women politicians to try and undermine their campaign. Now we have a political journalist ‘joking’ about how he’s helping out the Shadow Home Secretary by having sex with her. 

This is not okay. We have to get the sexist, racist genie back in its bottle. Whatever anyone thinks of Diane Abbott or Labour or their policies, they need to stand up against this kind of nasty misogynoir. This nasty, schoolboy sexism that puts women into fuck-able and unfuck-able categories. That tells women to just shut up and get shagged. 

Because as long as men like Fawkes think it’s okay to write this kind of nasty sexist bullshit, women will continue to be undermined, silenced and told that political power and political office is not for them. 

Women MPs need to be criticised, questioned and held to account just like their male counterparts. 

Women MPs - women everywhere - should not be subjected to gross, sexualised comments that seek to shut us up. 

No male MP gets that. No male MP expects that. 

For 3am magazine: Passeport (short story)

Oh yeah I had a short story published!

At the very clever 3am magazine.

It's called Passeport.

And I am super proud of it.

For OD 5050 - Books for bleak times: a reading list from six British feminists

I spoke to some of my favourite women about the books we turn to in bleak political times.

Have a read

Thanks to Caroline Criado-Perez, Sarah Ditum, Helen Lewis, Bidisha, Nimco Ali and Joanna Walsh for taking part!

For politics.co.uk: A big Conservative win could see fewer women in parliament

This article was almost out of date when it went out, and could be even more out of date now, if we all vote Labour and stop the Tory landslide!

A big Conservative win could see fewer women in parliament

For the Guardian: A moment that changed me

I wrote an essay for the Guardian series A Moment That Changed Me.

It's about the experience of moving in on my own.

Have a read.

Endings - a poem

Last year I wrote a bunch of poems and two of them were published (Blue and Notte Rossa). 

This one was my favourite, though, and because it's the ending of my residency, and the poem is called Endings, I thought I'd share it. 

Endings

When you told me:
"You're no good at endings."
and I cried.
My face pressed up against the bobbled grey sheets
of another borrowed bed.
The city outside —
with its heaving multitudes —
doesn't exist. 
But we can't contain our whole existence 
in this:
a borrowed room. 

I'm no good at endings.
And so I don't know how to end this; 
our holiday. 
I leave it to you
to leave me instead. 
I stand,
naked, framed by door.
You, half
nude descending a staircase. 

Is it because I'm no good at endings
that I cry when the plane takes off?
The air stretching vertical between me
and the place that still holds you.
Alarming the correct couple sat beside me
as they reflect on their holiday photos,
first on one lit screen,
and then on another.
The sunflowers that had bobbed in welcome,
only visible from arrivals. 

I go to funerals on my own.
I wake, panting, from a nightmare.
These moments when I wonder if it's worth not being
alone.
If it's worth having someone
to stand, tear-wet hand-clasped with,
at funerals.
Someone to smooth your hair when a ghost lifts you up —
unexpectedly —
in sleep.

I get drunk under a blurry sky.
I flirt with a Frenchman,
and then I flirt with
another Frenchman.
He pokes my stomach.
My mouth a moue. 

It all seems such a waste of time
when the end result is not
you. 

There must be a reason for me to stand:
naked, framed by door,
my body a strobe in black.
A white flag in the dawn dark.
Watching your back move away from me,
again. 
Like I watch the towns escape one by one behind me
on the train home,

like I watch the Alps shrink beneath me,
my nose pressed against a postage stamp of white light,
until they are reduced to 
papier-mache proportions. 
The heel of my hand is wet with
wiped-away tears.
The couple beside me say:
"It's so much easier to go on holiday now the kids are grown."

One day I'd quite like to collect all the poems I wrote last summer into a pamphlet. But who knows...

Four months in Spike Island

Four months ago, I arrived at Spike Island’s residency studio - the days and weeks gloriously stretched out in front of me full of opportunity for writing and events-organising. It felt like four months would last forever and yet today I have to pack up my little room and wave goodbye to the most wonderful time of my life. 

I’ve done a lot in four months. Here’s a few of my highlights. 

Writing

The aim of the residency was, of course, to do some writing! And my god, write I did. There was something transformative about having the physical space to work in - physical space that opened up mental and emotional space within me. I edited another draft of my Paris book (The Red Deeps) so that it was ready to send out to agents and publishers. And with that done, I turned my attention to a new project, a new idea - rattling out the first draft of a new novel exploring issues around refugees and migration. It’s rough, it’s messy, but it’s a first draft and I have high hopes for its development. So, how about that? Two books under my belt, one (pretty much) complete and one about to go on a re-drafting, re-editing journey. 

Plus I wrote a few articles too, for the New Statesman, politics.co.uk, and Open Democracy. I even squeezed in some freelance copywriting too, and have a short story coming out on 3am magazine in the next few weeks. 

Salons

One of my main aims for the residency was to find ways to bring together established and emerging talent into Spike Island. With my salons, I was able to invite some of my favourite writers and invite open mic attendees to share their work too. 

The first one in February featured Shagufta Iqbal, Vera Chok and Miles Chambers.

Then in March I invited Tania Hershman, Bidisha and Holly Corfield-Carr.

And yesterday I was joined by Eley Williams, Amy Key and Ben Gwalchmai. Yesterday was also the first time I shared work from The Red Deeps. It was a real joy for me to read from the Paris book in my wonderful studio. 

Workshops

Looking up to see 25 children aged 5-12 expecting me to teach them creative writing was one of the most intimidating experiences of my life. It went well though - with the amazing children of Bristol learning to tell stories with the help of multi coloured cardboard squares and felt tip pens. 

This was followed by 25 adults engaging with Lubaina Himid’s exhibition to write poetry and short fiction. 

And finally on the sunniest day of the year so far, 12 intrepid writers chose to sit in a windowless room to discuss redrafting techniques and share our ideas and thoughts on how we approach editing. 

I also worked with three schools - delivering workshops on how to write dialogue (with the help of Hemingway’s Hills Like White Elephants) and on feminism, gender and the media. 

Mentoring

Collaborating with Rife magazine, I had the brilliant opportunity to work with Kaja Brown. Kaja’s a fantastically talented young writer working on a novel trilogy. Together we looked at her manuscript and explored ways of editing it. Kaja also came to the second salon event to perform her short story during the open mic. It was the first time Kaja had read her work in public and I was super proud of her. She has a bright future ahead. 

1920s Paris

During the residency I ran an online reading group featuring work from my favourite writers living and working on the Left Bank in the 1920s. I also published an e-book of essays about the remarkable women who made their own literary and artistic community during this fascinating period. 

Press coverage

I got lots of press and publicity for the residency, including in:

BBC Radio Bristol

Bristol 24/7

Epigram magazine

Modernist Review 

And I think that’s it!

It really has been the most wonderful, exciting and inspiring experience of my life. I have to pay a massive tribute to the team at Spike Island - Helen, Georgia, Lizzie and Jane - who have been so supportive and kind throughout the four months and in the run-up too. I know we will be working together again in the future. 

For politics.co.uk: a vote for Theresa May is not a vote for women

I had a look for politics.co.uk at Theresa May's record on women's issues - including her and her government's work on male violence against women, reproductive rights, poverty and refugee rights.

I was not impressed although there is some good stuff in there.

Have a read.

For OD 50 50: The Things I Would Tell You review

I reviewed The Things I Would Tell You, ed by Sabrina Mahfouz, for OD 50:50

Have a read.

For politics.co.uk: The good side of a bad policy: Harsh migration law blocks forced marriages

I wrote for politics.co.uk about how the minimum income requirement on the spousal visa law could be having an impact on reducing forced or early marriage.

Have a read.

For the New Statesman: How Romania's feminists are fighting back

Check me out - lead story on the New Statesman website!

Yes, I wrote about the feminist movement in Romania with particular focus on the fight back against a rise in anti-abortion rhetoric.

Have a read

Now to find someone to commission me to write something big on feminism in Romania with a fully expenses paid trip to Bucharest...

Interview with Epigram magazine

I talked to Epigram magazine about writing, the residency, politics and feminism.

Includes bonus sneak preview of my favourite sentence of the Paris Book.

Have a read!

For politics.co.uk: The government's rape clause is a callous attack on victims

The headline says it all!

I wrote a (and I quote) 'sustained, forensic morally clear-sighted outraged' piece about the Conservative government's cut to child tax credits and its resultant rape clause.

Please read this. The treatment of vulnerable women by this government is truly truly shocking. To the point where I had to go back and re-check the source because I simply struggled to believe that this law could be real.

It is.

Have a read.

For OD 50:50 - a review of Cordelia Fine's Testosterone Rex

I was very lucky to interview the brilliant Cordelia Fine during her whistle-stop UK book tour.

This was the result.

On being a woman, on her own, at night

I’ve had a really bad run on street harassment lately. 

Really bad.

There was the drunk man in Bedminster Asda. Then, a couple of weeks ago, a guy started following me at Gaol Ferry Bridge. Not only was this startlingly reminiscent of when I was chased through King’s Cross Station, it was the moment of panic that if I got caught at the pedestrian crossing he would catch up with me. Luckily there was no traffic, I got across, took a longer, better-lit route home, and then moaned about it on Twitter.

Yesterday on the train home from London I sat next to a drunk man. He was really pissed but he was friendly enough. When I asked him to move to let me off at my stop, he clamped his hand on my thigh to haul himself to standing. It was drunken rather than malicious but let’s be honest, he wouldn’t have used me as a prop if I were a bloke. 

Then on the way home from the station a group of very drunk teenagers confronted me as I walked down East St, the lad yelling ‘woah look at her’ etc and then hit me in the face. (note: he didn’t slap or punch me, this was no black eye or bloody nose incident - he hit his hand against my glasses in a drunken weird swing. He hit me in the face but not hard.)

I flipped out, of course I did. Swore at them and asked them what the fuck they were doing. As always happens, they just laughed at me and mimicked my stupid high voice and then yelled at me to fuck off. The rest of the walk home I just tried not to cry because I didn’t want to look vulnerable. When I got home I poured a large glass of wine and moaned about it on Twitter. 

I’ve been trying to work out why it’s been so bad recently. I can’t blame Brexit and Trump for everything. And then last night it hit me. It’s since I started living on my own. 

When I lived with my ex boyfriend, about 2/3 - 3/4 of the times I was out at night, I was walking with him. Men don’t harass you when other men are around. Once a group of lads started harassing me, realised I was with my then boyfriend, and apologised to *him*. They didn’t want to encroach on his property after all! The fact that men don’t harass women in front of other men is one of the issues we have in being believed…

Now when I am out on the streets at night I am on my own. There’s no man to shield me. So of course I am noticing that I am getting harassed a lot more. 

I’m so fed up.

Because what can I do? I can’t afford to get taxis everywhere. I simply can’t. Buses in Bristol are stupidly expensive too, and not very reliable. Walking is my best mode of getting around. I don’t want to have to spend money that I don’t have because as a woman on my own in the city I am a target for harassment and violence. 

Also, I *like* walking. It’s my main form of exercise. I love walking through the city in the day and night - I want to be able to walk home after sitting on a train for two hours or in the office for eight. I want to walk home from the pub instead of having to negotiate taxi drivers or bus timetables, searching for pound coins, getting annoyed by drunk passengers. I shouldn’t be denied the freedom to walk around. And I certainly shouldn't have to spend money because of men’s violent behaviour towards women. Men don’t have to spend this money. Men don’t have to take themselves off the streets. 

I just feel so beaten down by it. I’m so exhausted by it. I was fourteen years old the first time men harassed me on the street. I’m 32 now. That’s 18 years. 18 years of being yelled at and groped and now hit. 

It shakes you up, too. 

Take this morning. I’m writing this having come home from the supermarket. On the way back, a man bowled out a pub doorway straight into me, gave me a filthy look, so I apologised to him. And then I started crying. Not because I’m weak or a wuss. But because I am knackered. I am exhausted of having to negotiate space all the time - of having to move out the way, of having to make myself small, of having to apologise for taking up public space, of having to endlessly consider the best way home, the safest route, of having to endlessly think about what I’m wearing and what I’m doing and who is looking. 

I can’t afford to taxi and bus everywhere. I don’t want to. I shouldn’t have to give up walking. 

A couple of years ago I went to an event where Iain Sinclair and Matthew Beaumont talked about walking in the city at night. 

Sinclair in particular talked about the freedom of night-walking, the anonymity it gives you, the fact that when you walk at night you move unseen, an observer. The ultimate flaneur. 

Thinking about that talk makes me want to cry again.

Imagine having that freedom. Imagine how it must feel to walk around feeling anonymous and confident and watching everyone else. 

Imagine having that privilege. 

Imagine having that unquestioned right. 

I can’t. 

I’m so tired of it. 

Update: On advice from a few friends, I decided to report this to the police. Not that I expect them to do anything, but because at least then it is noted that this sort of thing happens to women, and is recognised as not acceptable. I never report anything but actually in this case he did hit my face, and the things that happen to women should be noted down somewhere, surely? So yes, feels a bit odd to have done so but it can't harm. 

Another update: the police emailed me to say the report 'will be filed pending any positive line of enquiry coming to light.' 

Sorry Washington Post, but we do need the vagina as a symbol of protest

On the 21st January 2017, women in every continent gathered on the streets to protest the election of Donald Trump - a man who boasted of grabbing pussies, was accused by over a dozen women of sexual assault, was accused of child rape, and was accused of rape by his ex-wife (she later retracted the claim saying he didn’t do it in a criminal way). I was there - raising my voice against the men who try to silence us through violence. 

Many of the women on the global marches wore ‘pussy hats’. These handmade pink hats were designed as a rebuke to the dehumanising, sexually violent language of Trump. They were a symbol against the very specific assault of this presidency against women’s bodies - from the pussies he grabbed to the wombs he immediately legislated against. 

The wearing of the pussy hats was important to so many women, as quoted in Paul Mason’s report from the march: 

“I can’t stand the colour pink, and that hat looks really shitty on me. But right now it’s my most precious material possession. I’m betting there are lots of people out there who will look at their hats and remember that they need to do something – not just today, but tomorrow and the next.”

A week later, I was on another march - this time protesting the anti-Muslim ban. One protest in another city requested that attendees left their pussy hats and uterus-emblazoned placards at home, over concerns that they were ‘exclusionary’. 

I was going to write about this at the time, but I’ve been writing a novel so haven’t done much political blogging. However, this issue raised its head again this week, with an op-ed in the Washington Post by Phoebe Maltz Bovy. In her article, Maltz Bovy asks us to drop the vagina as a protest symbol. She again cites the idea that it’s exclusionary (‘The obvious problem with vagina-motif protest is that it leaves out some women’); and that the use of vagina erases women’s experiences:

“The vast majority of women do indeed have vaginas, but they aren’t preoccupied by that fact day to day. Vagina possession doesn’t explain why Mary voices an idea in a meeting but the boss listens only when Jim repeats it. When Kate does the dishes again, it isn’t because Bob’s genitalia prevented him from loading the dishwasher. Yes, reproduction and child-care-related issues, not to mention sexual assault and domestic abuse, disproportionately affect women, and often involve women’s genitals. But even the women’s issues with some relationship to female anatomy aren’t really about vaginas.”

In her extraordinary book, When I Hit You, Meena Kandasamy describes repeated brutal rape by her husband:

“When I’m through, what you have will be torn and tattered […] This is the aim of his rapes, all this rough sex. Not just a disciplining, but a disabling”

I include this quote to make the point that talking about our vaginas and what men do to them is important, that there’s a reason so much male violence is centred on our vaginas and wombs (pregnancy is a real risk factor in DVA). Biology is not destiny - that is a key demand of feminism. What this means is that so far, men’s oppression of women has been tied up absolutely in biology. The feminist fight is the fight to liberate ourselves from this oppression. We can’t do that, however, unless we are allowed to talk about it. 

After all, there’s a reason the American Senate tried to ban the word ‘vagina’ in their debates. 

The fact is, I would love it if we could drop the vagina as a protest symbol. I would love it if we could retire our placards shouting ‘get your rosaries off my ovaries.’ Do you think I’m not sick of this shit? Do you think I want to carry on shouting about my vagina and what men think they are entitled to do to it? Do you think I want to carry on waving a metal coat hanger in the air and demanding my reproductive rights? No! I want to finish my novel! 

It wasn’t us who made it about our wombs and vaginas. It wasn’t us who created the reason for our pussy hats. 

It was Trump.

Trump, and all the men around him. 

Trump made it about our pussies when he boasted about grabbing them.

He made it about our wombs when he signed away abortion support for the world’s poorest and most vulnerable women. When his Freedom Caucus got together and signed away funding for maternal healthcare. When attacks on Planned Parenthood mean attacks on abortion rights, as well as care for ovarian and cervical cancer. 

Men make it about our pussies when they rape 1500 women in the UK every week. 

Men make it about our uteruses when they force women and girls to carry an unwanted pregnancy to term. 

Men make it about our genitals when in slums across the developing world, women are raped and assaulted as they go to the toilet. 

Men make it about our genitals when they say a good woman is a cut woman. 

Men make it about our genitals and wombs when they tax tampons and use the money to fund anti-choice organisations. 

I am a fervent and true supporter of inclusivity and I know that the proposed bans on pussy hats came from a well-meaning place of ensuring trans and non binary people did not feel excluded. 

This matters. We need to practice intersectionality as feminists and we need to make sure we are inclusive and kind. But when we try and ban mention of pussies and vaginas and wombs in the name of inclusivity, we are in fact ignoring how the attacks on women’s bodies and bodily autonomy is in itself an act of exclusion.

All the issues I cite above are centred in intersectional feminism - from the fact that wealth and class privilege makes it easier to access abortion in countries where it is criminalised, to the dangers of going to the toilet for women in the global south. This latter issue is so, so ignored, by the way.

Take the abortion ban in Ireland. For women carrying to term a foetus with a fatal abnormality, they are literally locked into their homes. They can’t go out because of the trauma involved in having to either repeatedly explain to people that their baby will die, or lie about it. The laws on abortion exclude women from society. 

Or take the abortion ban everywhere. Women die every day because they cannot access safe, legal abortion. Male lawmakers’ obsession with women’s wombs excludes women in that it kills us. 

The rapes and attacks on women that happen every day in every corner of the world seek to exclude women from public space - and again, these attacks exclude us absolutely when male violence kills us. 

Language matters. 

We have to be able to name what happens to us. We have to be able to name the body parts that are under attack by male power and male violence. We have to be able to say that men attack our pussies and vaginas; that men legislate against our uteruses; that men do this because we are women and our oppression is a biological oppression. 

There was a case of mass rape in Bolivia where women couldn’t accuse their perpetrators because they had never been taught the names of their genitals. They couldn’t describe what had happened to them because they didn’t have the word ‘vagina’. This lack of language excluded them from justice. 

Women’s bodies have been unspeakable for so long. We have been denied a voice to name our oppression for so long. 

That’s why as long as men try and attack my vagina and the vaginas of my sisters, then I will shout the word as loud as I can. As long as men try and attack my womb and the womb of my sisters, then I will shout the word as loud as I can. 

To name the attacks on our vaginas and wombs is not exclusionary. 

To try and deny women the language to speak about what patriarchy does to us - that really is. 

For The Modernist Review: modernism, Paris and the women of the Left Bank

I spoke to the Modernist Review about Stein, my fascination with the 1920s Left Bank Women, and my residency at Spike Island.

Have a read!

For Wales Arts Review: The Meaning of International Women's Day

Happy International Women's Day everyone!

I contributed to this piece on Wales Arts Review about the meaning of IWD and what it means to me.

And remember, I'll be writer-in-residence at Wales Arts Review during July writing about issues around the refugee crisis.

Have a read.

For Bristol Festival of Ideas: in conversation with Nimko Ali

On Thursday 25 May you can come and see me and Nimko Ali talk about vaginas as part of the Bristol Festival of Ideas.

What a treat!

Of course we won't just be talking about vaginas. We'll be talking about Nimko's amazing history of activism, her huge achievements in the fight to end FGM, the importance of having open and honest conversations about women's bodies and lives... and no doubt we'll have a giggle and perhaps shed a few tears too.

To book your tickets, visit the Bristol Festival of Ideas.

For Open Democracy 50 50: Should domestic abuse have its own law?

I wrote this for Open Democracy 5050 on whether domestic abuse should have its own law.

I'm really proud of it, I think it's a really important piece and I hope you share this view!

A huge thank you to Harriet Wistrich, Olivia Piercy and Naomi for talking to me.

Have a read and please share. 

Amnesty International asked about online abuse. Here's what I had to say.

Amnesty International put a call out on Twitter asking women about their experiences of online abuse. Here's what I sent to them...

The incident I reported to the police happened on Facebook. I'd been involved in a campaign around the normalisation of sexual objectification in Bristol, which had attracted a lot of local press attention. I was the spokesperson so was very visible. Things built up and eventually a young man posted on Facebook that I was a cunt, he was going to post my address details online and 'make me pay'. I wrote about this for the Guardian at the time.

Another man joked about kicking me in the vagina.

That's the stand out incident, but online abuse happens all the time. I wrote about abortion issues and I had a man call me a 'fucking baby killer'. This particular individual targeted me repeatedly, commenting on every blogpost I wrote. He'd start off polite then it would build up until he'd call me names such as 'fucking feminazi bitch'

He had a really common name. Every time I saw that name afterwards it would make me really uncomfortable. Once I saw his name in a conference line-up and had a real triggered reaction. It wasn't the same man but the same name. I know the man who used to comment on my blog worked in academia and it bothers me that he might work with students when his attitudes to women are so disgusting and violent.

I wrote about Fathers 4 Justice and a man in the comments said he hoped 'some cunt raped' me, because I was a 'fucking fascist'.

More recently I've experienced the 'pile on'. I tweeted a joke about Boris Johnson and had around 200 @ messages in an hour ranging from the mild (of the 'you stupid feminist bitch' variety) to the obscene (men saying what they would do to me sexually). On another occasion I deleted a tweet after within 5 minutes I had 5 @ messages all quoting the tweet, and all the avatars were naked pictures of men.

More recently I tweeted about an Amazon advert and a man told me to drink a bottle of floor cleaner, alongside the usual sexist slurs.

The scary thing about pile-ons is you don't know when they will stop. After the Boris Johnson joke I was still getting unpleasant messages 24 hours later. You feel very vulnerable, you feel like this is it now, it's never going to stop.

I feel that when people excuse men's behaviour online, they resort to the line 'he didn't think you were a real person, it's just online so it's not real'. I think this is nonsense. It is just another form of victim blaming. It re-enforces the message that women are not human. It says that women cause the problem by being online.

I've had rape threats, death threats, threats to my safety, been called names, had men send obscene images, had men fantasise about what they would do to me sexually. They didn't do this thinking it wasn't real. They did this to bully, intimidate and most importantly of all to silence me.

I won't be silenced.