Now That’s What I Call Misogyny

Happy 2014, ladies! You’ve probably overindulged a bit this Christmas, I know I have. I had to go to bed early last night after eating so many Quality Streets that I missed out on the exciting sugar rush and just had bad stomach ache instead. So I’m feeling a little bit below my best and wondering if there will ever be a time in the near future when I can sit up again without going “oooooh” accompanied by a pained expression. Thank god that Now magazine has just the tonic:

via @gillesoffthenet on Twitter

via @gillesoffthenet on Twitter

I mean, if this cover doesn’t cheer you up I don’t know what will.

Here we have, in 2014, a mainstream weekly that has taken no less than 21 pictures of women in the public eye, in their bathing suits, and deemed them unfit for purpose. Purpose, of course, being to look runway-ready at all times.

(Sorry, I seem to have referred to the images above as women, when they are in actual fact, as Now magazine screams from its front cover, just “bodies”.)

One of the “bodies” is a new mum, one is a supermodel just turned 40, one is an actress deemed too fat, another too thin. And the accompanying tagline is that looking at these images will make you feel “normal”. The whole thing is too horrific to know where to begin. It’s like something out of a sick satire; but this is actually being displayed in the magazine aisles of shops up and down the country. This ‘feature’ was brainstormed, written about, OK’ed, and published by real people in the media industry.

I have history with these sorts of magazines, and know that they can be damaging. I bought into their philosophy of what’s “normal”. When I was in primary school I was quite skinny, I never ate lunch but only because I was one of the world’s fussiest eaters and never liked what was being served in the dinner hall. When I started secondary school I was allowed to take in packed lunches – the dream! But I started developing quicker than many of my friends, and I was eating more and I suddenly became conscious that I was getting bigger.

The thing is, I was never fat. I was very aware of my body, though, as by this point I was swimming training nearly everyday with dreams of being the next Ian Thorpe. I tell you, there have been so many occasions over the last ten years when I wished I had stuck with a sport where you get to keep your clothes on. I was too young to appreciate that I was training my body to do things and continue for distances that not many others my age were able to do. I was too focused on the fact that my hips looked bigger than they should and my thighs met at the top.

I started buying these magazines, like Now and Heat, and cutting out pictures that I then kept in a scrap book. It was around the time that Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie were everywhere; when the media pretended to be horrified by the tiny sizes these girls had shrunk themselves down to, all the while glamorizing and even encouraging them. Kate Moss was heralded as ‘the perfect size 8’. It was the era of the society girls, who had time and money to eat nothing all day and party all night. These were the sort of pictures I was cutting out of magazines.

These publications are obsessed to the point of distraction by women’s body weight. What message are young girls supposed to take away from these articles? That women have nothing to offer, nothing else worth mentioning, than their number on the scale? Why was I made to think, at age 13, that a picture of a nearly emaciated woman, with her tracksuit trousers hanging off her body, was what I should aspire for?

The women on the cover above all appear to have been photographed without their knowledge, and whatever their own feelings with regards to their own bodies, they look happy in the moment. The photos are unstaged, un-airbrushed, and actually, Now magazine, what I think they show is 21 versions of normal. How dare Now think they have the right to make anyone feel less than they are, by slapping irresponsible taglines over intrusive pictures and zooming in at the merest hint of un-taut skin.

In the ever-contradictory world of the weekly glossy, the latest edition comes with the headline “Screw the Diet!” and three more women, in their swimsuits, talking about how they’re happy to be carrying a bit of extra weight.

Is it wishful thinking to hope that, at some point in the 21st century perhaps, women will be judged on something other than their waistline?


Is a Woman’s Place Really in the Kitchen?

chef hat

Even though I can’t properly cook an omelette to save my life (or, less dramatically, to provide myself a decent lunch), I love cookery shows. Can’t get enough of them. I’ll be any channel’s audience statistic for a shot of a mixing bowl.

previously posted about my newly-discovered adoration for The Great British Bake Off, which was far more tense and emotionally draining than the bunting and cute marzipan shapes suggested. Similarly, I recently became hooked on Masterchef: The Professionals during its six-week run. Where Bake Off featured talented amateurs, Masterchef: The Professionals (from hereon in ‘MasterPros’) saw 32 professional cooks battling it out for the distinguished honour of appeasing the taste buds of, surely the biggest wide boy on TV, ‘fine diner’ Gregg Wallace.

There was something that struck me about MasterPros, and I mean something other than Monica Galetti’s eye expressions (if eyes are truly the window to the soul, then I can only deduce that Monica’s is a cross between Captain Hook and the Chesire Cat) – that is, that there was a distinct lack of female contestants. Out of the starting line-up, just four of the chefs were women. And they all left within the first week, thus paving the way for a testosterone-fueled final. (And semi-final, for that matter.)

To restate my opinion on this issue, I do not believe women should be selected for their gender or to cover some nervous Executive from claims of sexism. The female presence on MasterPros is only slightly lower than the per cent-age (20) of professional female chefs working in the UK, so the show is a fair representation of the situation nationally. What I am interested in is why, given the old adage that ‘a woman’s place is in the kitchen’, there so few employed in a professional cooking environment.

Bake Off finalist, Ruby Tandoh, wrote a piece for the Guardian shortly after the show’s finale that addressed the uncharacteristic vitriol aimed at the most recent series, specifically the misogynistic remarks directed towards the three female finalists. They were criticised for seeming either too assertive, attention-seeking, or manipulative, and even accused of being too thin to be any good at baking!

Ruby says, and I agree, that ingrained attitudes and gender politics pits “a culture of frilly baking” against “macho Michelin stars” and “real chefs versus domestic goddesses”. Women have Cath Kidston ideals to live up to; men get to watch the likes of Jamie Oliver and The Hairy Bikers making their fortune being laddish (and hairy). When thirty of the country’s best chefs were gathered to sample a menu by the three MasterPros finalists, it appeared only one woman was in attendance.


So are societal pressures to blame? The kitchen in which women are supposed to remain is crucially within the home, where they feed their families and act out the vision of the perfect housewife; whereas a chef in a professional environment needs to be confident and assertive to make their mark. These traits, so lauded in men, are viewed unfavourably and with suspicion in a woman, as Kimberley over on Bake Off found out after she was targeted for appearing ‘cocky’ and ‘smug’ for having belief in her own ability. If women are repeatedly reminded, unconsciously or not, that speaking up often results in negative attention, it is not hard to understand why the thought of commanding a station in a kitchen and barking orders seems alien and unappealing.

Stresses of the job could also be a factor: judging by what I have seen on the show, professional kitchens are hotter and more pressurised than an Italian pizza oven. There is scientific research to suggest that women are more susceptible to stress than men, with the female brain proving more sensitive to a hormone produced during times of anxiety. This biological predisposition is not a weakness or necessarily a disadvantage, but whether it is always suited to the scenarios presented by a professional kitchen is another matter. Having said that, I could only gaze in awe at the all-female team in my local Costa yesterday lunchtime, as they dealt calmly, efficiently, and humourously with a queue that snaked out of the door. Perhaps we need to see more women showing that it can be done: many of the female chefs on television are not shown, or do not work, in service environments. Emulating Nigella Lawson seems almost unobtainable, bar the fact that she does everything in the comfort of her own kitchen.

And while it seems tired to play the family card, it is a valid point. The female contestants this year were still in their twenties, and I can’t remember any of them mentioning that they had children. Some of the men of a similar age did, and praised their wives for holding the fort while they took part in the competition. Arguably there are gender expectations here at play again. I believe it is still the case that a woman who leaves her children for long hours is more harshly judged than a man, with the idea of the father going out to work early and getting back late still a common conception of ‘normal’ family life.

The hours in a professional kitchen are long and demanding: one of the finalists said that he had been getting into work at 5AM to practice his dishes for the show, and then staying on to work a 15-16 hour day. Would a woman with young children be afforded this opportunity without anyone passing comment? Would she want to?

There is proof that it can be done: the aforementioned Monica Galetti is the senior sous-chef at Le Gavroche and quite possibly the best thing about MasterPros. She can most certainly cook; doesn’t bite her tongue when it comes to critiquing the contestant’s meals; and has a young daughter whom she clearly adores. She is fearsome, fun, powerful, and talented. I just wish there were more of her.

“When You Get to the End of Your Rope, Tie a Knot and Hang On”

medalThe shortlist for the BBC Sports Personality of the Year award was released today, and such are the successes among British sporting stars that poor old Mo Farah, despite having achieved the legendary ‘double/double’ (winning the 5,000m and 10,000m at both the Olympics and World Athletics Championships), is still not favourite to take home the accolade.

After becoming the first British man to win Wimbledon in 77 years, Andy Murray is expected to secure the top prize. Others on the list include Tour de France winner Chris Froome; Sir Ben Ainsley, credited with masterminding Oracle Team USA’s America’s Cup win; and Justin Rose, whose triumph at the US Open made him the first Englishman to win a golf major since 1996.

Astonishingly no footballers on the list, despite the fact that, given its extensive coverage in the daily newspapers, you’d be forgiven for thinking football was the only sport played in this country. Not even [Most Expensive] Footballer of the Year, Gareth Bale, made the cut. And Mark Cavendish has now won the points classification at all three major cycling tours following his success in the Giro d’Italia this year, but didn’t make the Beeb’s top ten.

Basically, this year is a long way from 1997 when Greg Rusedski got to take home the awkwardly shaped statue. His triumph came on the back of getting to the final (for the first and last time in his career) of the US Open. Not to demean Greg’s efforts in any way – lord knows I could never get to the top end of a ladder, let alone the top end of a tennis grand slam – but Andy couldn’t even win it last year after having reached five major finals, won the US Open, and beaten Federer to Olympic gold. Stakes are somewhat higher now.

There is female presence on the list in Christine Ohuruogu and Hannah Cockroft; the BBC wouldn’t be so daft as to submit itself to the uproar of 2011, a year in which apparently there was no female achievement worthy of note. The events of London 2o12 made it easy to draw up a shortlist that was an even split of male/female success.

A year later, is it truly the case that only two women’s performances are worth mentioning? Even with the increased competition for a spot on the shortlist, I don’t believe that for a minute. I also don’t think the blame for the frequent under-representation of women on the SPOTY list lies (solely) with the BBC. The real issue is a combination of lack of coverage and lack of opportunity for women in sport.

British Tour de France winners are like buses. You wait nearly a hundred years, and two come along in succession. Bradley Wiggins and Chris Froome are incredibly talented and driven, and rewarded with success in cycling’s biggest challenge. And they managed it without any “extra” help, if you get my drift. They deserve the attention and the plaudits directed their way, and I’m sure their wins have done wonders for young cyclists around the country. But what of their female equivalents? There are none, because even in the 21st century women are still not permitted to compete in the Tour de France.

It creates a vicious cycle (no pun intended): there are relatively fewer races for women to compete, therefore a significant lack of bikecoverage, and thus a dearth of sponsorship, making it a real struggle for women’s cycling to grow. Laura Trott defended her omnium title at the Track Cycling World Cup and was part of the winning women’s pursuit team, but for all her efforts, even the golden girl of last summer struggled to make the front of any sports pages.

I would not suggest for one minute that female athletes should be included on the list simply because they are women. That is a case of political-correctness gone mad. However, I do feel that more female achievements should be pointed out. The SPOTY event is a glitzy affair that draws a large number of sporting names, is televised, and receives significant coverage in the press. It offers a perfect opportunity to draw attention to the successes of women that have otherwise slipped under the radar.

In an ideal world, one night on the BBC would be enough to redress the balance and propel minority sports and participants into the headlines rather than a byline on a final page roundup. But in reality, there are multiple obstacles that must be overcome to achieve gender equality in sport.

The first of these is the sports governing bodies. To again use the lack of a women’s Tour as my example, this was initially prohibited because one of the purposes of the Tour de France was to celebrate masculinity. Women who wanted to ride were treated with suspicion. This may not be the case anymore, but the current rules still seem to suggest that women are simply not up to the rigours of long-course road racing. It still stands that women can only race a maximum of eight days and for stages of no more than 81 miles.

Women were only allowed to compete in the 10,000m at the Olympics 25 years ago, and 2012 was the first time women’s boxing discowas included on the programme. Female tennis players are still only required to go to a best of three sets, while men have to battle it out in five. The implication, always, whether intentional or not, is that women are too weak and feeble to take on the same challenges as their male counterparts. This needs to change.

So, too, does the appearance and visibility of women’s sports. La Grande Boucle Féminine was billed as the Tour de France’s female equivalent, but received minimal coverage and its demise barely registered when it eventually closed up shop in 2009. If news outlets aren’t interested, neither are sponsors or organisers.

Furthermore, young girls need a wide spread of female athletes that they are inspired to emulate. There also needs to be incentive. This BBC News article quotes research that found only 30% of teenage girls exercised regularly. It’s shocking, but not surprising. The various pressures on girls around the ages of 13-16 make it difficult to continue to get enjoyment out of sport. At the moment, I don’t think there is enough to persuade them that giving up a significant amount of free time is worth their while.

Sport should not be glamourised, but female success should be offered the same opportunities as men receive. Male sporting stars become legends – Lennox Lewis, the 1966 World Cup team, Sebastian Coe, Fred Perry – whereas Virginia Wade had to suffer the indignation of some reports declaring Andy Murray “the first British winner of Wimbledon in 77 years”, thus wiping her name from the history books in one sentence.

Female athletes are too frequently targets for ridicule. Paula Radcliffe still holds the world record for the women’s marathon, and yet this is often overlooked in order to sniggeringly remember her misfortune and bladder issues during the Olympic marathon in Beijing. Victoria Pendleton, only able to ride one race in Beijing while Sir Chris Hoy came home with three golds and hero status, was finally allowed the same opportunity as the men in London, but had to put up with comments about her personal life and being branded a ‘whinger’ after her responses to certain interview questions.

Who would want to deal with all that, on top of the relentless training and diet regimes of a professional sportsperson? You get the same amount of flack for appearing on a show like The Only Way Is Essex for less than a fraction of the effort – and you probably get paid more, too.

Certain sporting events – and specifically, the women’s side of these events – need to capture the imagination; to persuade the public to remain interested for longer than one glorious summer month every four years, and thus encourage regular attendance. At the moment, I still believe it remains hard to become fully invested in a sport if it does not receive an adequate level of coverage. This is the catch-22: press will not report on something if it little interest is displayed, yet it is difficult to remain aware of an event taking place unless it is publicised in a national paper.

In fact, all the aspects I have written about are interlinked: larger audiences will attract more attention from the media; this will influence funding, which can make the difference between someone reaching their full potential and not; this has a knock-on effect as to whether the athlete can secure a sizable sponsorship deal, which also depends on the publicity surrounding the event; more charlie brownpublicity will encourage a bigger following… and so on.

Ultimately, female athletes need equal opportunities and to be taken seriously for what they do. Their inclusion on the SPOTY shortlist should not be met with confusion as to what it is they’ve been nominated for, and should not be open to the criticism that they are a ‘token’ addition. Quarter of a century ago it was believed to be dangerous for a woman to run long distances. Now that she has proved that she can run just as far as any man, the next step is to wait for the rest of the world to catch up.

“Think Not I Am What I Appear”

Against better judgement I have started watching the current series of I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here. I’m not here to defend this choice, as tempting as that is, but to write about some significant points that the show – in less than a week on air – has raised about appearance, achievement, and the media’s approach to the female body.

Rebecca Adlington is one of this year’s contestants, and a personal hero. When I was younger (I’m talking 14/15) it was my dream to be an Olympic swimmer. I blame some incredibly slow twitch muscles for my failure to succeed (if you can’t join them – blame your genes!), but would like to think I have a small inkling of the sacrifice and dedication it takes to make it to the starting block of an Olympic race, let alone finish with a medal.

That is why it has been particularly heartbreaking to witness, despite all her achievements, Rebecca’s deep insecurities. Earlier this week she was reduced to tears by what began as a discussion of Miss Universe winner Amy Willerton’s life as a model/beauty queen. Rebecca acknowledged in the privacy of the camp’s ‘diary room’ that she had spent almost her entire life dedicated to making her body perform in the most active sense of the word. Wiping away tears, she admitted, “It’s making me very, very insecure that I have to look [a certain way]. For me, I was an athlete.”

Would a male athlete have been reduced to tears in the jungle, comparing himself unfavourably to a male model? A large part of perfect bodyRebecca’s reaction stems from her own self-esteem (or lack thereof), but this has been compounded by the ideals of femininity presented in the media, coupled with targeted attacks on her Twitter account. The likes of Michael Phelps, Usain Bolt, and Sir Chris Hoy do not have to put up with relentless messages that tell them their thighs are too big, or that their ears stick out too much.

Men’s achievements are still taken more seriously in some quarters (I stress – in some quarters); the spectacle of the race is entertainment enough. The topic of outfits is another discussion entirely, but consider all the ridiculous commentary surrounding the women’s volleyball during London 2012. Women are expected to be able to perform and present an appealing aesthetic. In fact, it probably doesn’t matter if she comes last in her race, as long as she looks good doing it.

Really taking the biscuit has been the subsequent coverage of Rebecca’s upset. *Certain* media outlets – I am referring to the ones that perpetuate the idea of what constitutes female beauty and belittle any who fail to achieve it – have taken this golden opportunity to partake in their own favourite sport. That is, pitting women against each other. Yay! There’s a fun pastime, right there: highlighting women’s ‘flaws’ and ‘mistakes’ and then sitting back to watch as they tear each other apart.

The same paper that took such glee in reporting on the supposed “showdown” – it was a tetchy discussion! – between Amy and Rebecca, posted another article (for want of a better word) a day later blatantly squaring them off. There is a table of comparison and everything. You can have a look here if you have the stomach for it.

The tone is deliberately skewed to make those in the comments (oh god, the world of internet comments) pick a side. The same paper that has been salivating over pictures of Amy in her bikini since before the show even began has decided that women should hate her, because she represents an industry that makes women hate themselves. Amy is obviously beautiful: slim, tanned, long hair, the works, and she knows this. I mean, you don’t win Miss Universe and still question your own attractiveness. But why should knowledge of her own beauty be a Bad Thing?

In the bizarre world of tabloids, Rebecca’s pre-existing insecurities have been used to black mark Amy. The thought process is that tea“real women” (a phrase that deserves to be trapped in an eternal bush-tucker trial) must devalue Amy in order to empower all the women (probably, sadly, a majority) like Rebecca made to feel that they are not good enough because they cannot fit into a pair of size 8 jeans.

How, how, is this in any way a viable form of female empowerment?! Instead of dismissing Amy’s successes – pitted against a gold medalist I’m sure most of us would feel our achievements pale in comparison – why not celebrate both for rising to the top in their respective fields, no matter what your opinion of their respective career paths? By fueling these petty rivalries and playing on women’s self-doubt these media sites manage to distract from the real issues facing women both in the public eye and in ‘normal life’.

There was another significant moment during the week, which involved fellow camp mate Matthew Wright and a women’s swimsuit. For those who know anything about I’m a Celebrity…, Myleene Klass and the white bikini is folklore. Basically, by the simple act of showering under the camp waterfall everyday in a certain two-piece, former Popstars winner Myleene was able to successfully reboot her career upon leaving the jungle.

The “subject” of ladies in swimsuits has been turned into an annual competition; another classic divide and conquer tactic. Matthew, a television presenter and newspaper journalist, took the chance to poke fun at the tabloids’ barely contained excitement over who would provide the “Myleene Moment”, by donning the famous white bikini and taking the role himself.

It was funny, it was ridiculous, but it also made a point. The roles in the jungle are much more tightly defined for the female contestants than for the men. As fun as the show may be, I’m a Celebrity… is not immune to the frequent reality series’ pitfall that sees women compared and judged, not for what they can accomplish and overcome, but how they present themselves.

Sadly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, Matthew’s joke (that I understood as poking fun at the sort of showbiz commentary he once wrote) has been misconstrued by some articles as his attempt to mock “attention-seeking” female camp mates. How reassuring to know that women will always be responsible for their own bad press.

“Is then Variety reserv’d for Man?”


Something about film has been bothering me for a while. Admittedly I am not a cinematic connoisseur; my ‘Top 10’ list is dominated by bizarre comedies and features of less than two hours. (I have an unreasonably short attention span in this area.)  But I’ve sat through a fair few, and read many more reviews and synopses, and one thing is frequently apparent: that there are painfully few decent, interesting, well-rounded parts for female characters.

My annoyance was recently piqued by a Guardian feature on Kerry Washington, who currently has a starring role in *television* drama Scandal, which listed her most notable film parts as such, without any comment on their common qualifier:

“…she played Idi Amin’s wife in The Last King of Scotland, Ray Charles’ wife in the biopic Ray and Broomhilda, wife of the slave Django, in Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained.”

The brief description of each role makes it clear that in every instance her purpose on screen is restricted to her relationship with a male character. I have only seen Django Unchained out of the films quoted, and from my viewing I understood Broomhilda ultimately as a plot device around which Django’s character and journey could be built. As for the other films, the clue is in the titles. The men are the subjects, and I guess that makes women objects, available to be manipulated in the manner that suits the story best: acting as a catalyst; a symbol for downfall or redemption; and/or to highlight and provide explanation for the flaws/strengths of a male character.

Literature in the past has not been kind to women, either. Up until an embarrassingly recent century, the idea/ideals of woman were always a male construct. I spent much of the three years of my English degree getting wound up over the dichotomy between reality and expectation of female appearance, ambition, sexuality… As Virginia Woolf said, “It was strange to think that all the great women of fiction were, until Jane Austen’s day, not only seen by the other sex, but seen only in relation to the other sex”. Thankfully, there have since been countless brilliant female writers that have portrayed women in an honest and interesting way – though let’s willfully forget the horrors that are the Twilight and 50 Shades of Grey sagas, which set back these developments by about two hundred years. In film, the ratio of female to male screenwriters is worryingly askew. Hollywood mirrors many other industries with its dearth of women in powerful and decisive roles. Yet here it poses a particular problem, as the film industry is responsible for the output of influential visual representations of society. Yes, yes, yes, it’s largely fiction, I know that the chances of a dashingly blonde Norse god running around with a hammer are, in reality, slim, but even so, why is Natalie Portman reduced to a boring earth-bound role with the main purpose of showing that, for all his muscles, Thor can be sensitive? If you’re going to make this stuff up, at least make the attempt to suggest that women have a bigger part to play in intergalactic battles than simply a sounding board for male characters’ emotions. (NB: I am aware that Thor was originally a comic, a medium with all its own inherent controversies regarding sexism and diversity.)

The Bechdel Test was devised by cartoonist Alison Bechdel to ‘measure’ women’s interaction with each other on screen, and whether the extent of their interaction went beyond discussing men/male characters. In 2013, women are still represented as a minority group in film, despite making up over half of the cinema-going audience. Consider the films you have seen recently in relation the criteria below, and see how many come up trumps:

The Bechdel Test

1) The film has at least two (named) female characters…

2) …These women actually talk to each other…

3) …About something other than a man.

The last film that I watched was Lawless, which I greatly enjoyed and would definitely recommend. But it doesn’t pass Bechdel’s test. Jessica Chastain and Mia Wasikowska have the rather obvious function of providing some testosterone relief to this Western themed cock fight, which the opening and closing credits make sure that we are aware is based on a True Story. All the more problematic – the women in this film have little else to do than, respectively, serve up refreshments and act the dutiful daughter. While the Bondurant brothers live a life fueled by adrenaline, acting on the wrong side of the law and taking revenge (and certain parts of male anatomy) into their own hands, their lady loves sit at home peeling potatoes and feeding goats. Is the reality of being a woman really so boring?! Movie statistics show that in order for a female character to get some decent action and more than a word in edge ways onscreen, there needs to be a woman behind the camera. Otherwise she is a veritable mute, likely to be a lover or female relative. The sitcom title Two and a Half Men also happens to be the average ratio of men to every woman on the silver screen.

After some research to help me write this post, I have discovered that there is a lot of discussion surrounding this and similar subjects online, and that there plenty of statistics to more than prove the point. But I’ve also realised that my frustration has been misplaced. It has always irked me when a talented female actor has taken a ‘bit part’ in a film, no matter how critically acclaimed or successful it is, or when some seem content to take the same backseat roles in different pictures. The real problem here lies higher up in the film food chain, with a severe lack of women in key positions such as script writing and directorial. There is an obvious solution, sadly easier said than done; so, until the balance is redressed, I guess I’ll just have to keep vigil at my Bridesmaids shrine.