There's a reason I don't watch Top Gear.
It's not because I'm not a petrol head (although that would be true enough).
It's not that little-man-complex Hammond makes my skin crawl more every inch his hair drops towards his shirt collar (or that piece of leather hanging tragically around his neck).
It's Clarkson.
For starters he thinks he is the don of all gentleman kind. Which is peculiar, because this is far, far, far from the truth. Apparently his sole purpose in life is to leer at women he hasn't a hope in hell of attracting.
And no, I'm not ugly, and no, I'm not a lesbian.
Quite apart from enraging the eco-friendly by advocating fuel guzzling, environmental nightmare 4x4s and more recently losing any waning respect he might have from our Muslim friends by claiming he saw a wind-stricken burka-clad lady with a red g-string on underneath, he could be described as being a boil on the butt of male humanity.
"The most dangerous time to drive a car is round about now. Sunny skies, light breezes, girls wearing short skirts, because the thing is, you can't not look. You can't physically not look."
It's enough to make me never want to wear a skirt again. Stop it, Clarkson. You're being disgusting.
Showing posts with label Feminism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Feminism. Show all posts
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Monday, 7 July 2008
Calling all women
Don't be one of the silent complainers (see Sitting on your hind below...)
The Guardian is doing a series on feminism to celebrate 90 years in Britain since women won the right to vote. Be heard. Join the debate: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/awomansplace
The Guardian is doing a series on feminism to celebrate 90 years in Britain since women won the right to vote. Be heard. Join the debate: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/awomansplace
Sunday, 6 July 2008
Sitting on your hind
"Further to this Jill Saward has written this piece on why she’s standing for the by-election. Needless to say, it being a Comment is Free piece so far she’s been described as “pathetic” (robertdaniel), told to “grow up” (GoingGoingGordon), that her writing is “spurious” (RoadRiverandRail), that women reporting rape are all liars (comment detailed but quoted in another one), that women shouldn’t make this a gender/feminist issue (tangerinedream), that talking about rape is “sneaky” (Kvasnik) and that her campaign is “absolute bollocks” (funwithwhips). Lovely."
And needless to say, it being an F-Word piece, they love nothing better than to bitch into the wilderness without actually, err, doing anything. I know it's a new concept. But how about in loving to hate the misogynists, one actually logged into commentisfree and wrote in defense of Jill? Or complained about some of the more undesirable comments by reporting the abuse? Isn't the whole point that misogynists are heard too much, too loudly? Why not just stand up to them there and then, instead of creating a safe environment where no one else is allowed to speak? Why can't we have the courage of our convictions to be heard on the same stage as our opposition?
Or is it just that its so much fun complaining, if we actually took the bull by the horns and changed it ourselves, we'd have nothing left to bitch about. That is true feminism - an actual desire to change, not a desire to winge.
And needless to say, it being an F-Word piece, they love nothing better than to bitch into the wilderness without actually, err, doing anything. I know it's a new concept. But how about in loving to hate the misogynists, one actually logged into commentisfree and wrote in defense of Jill? Or complained about some of the more undesirable comments by reporting the abuse? Isn't the whole point that misogynists are heard too much, too loudly? Why not just stand up to them there and then, instead of creating a safe environment where no one else is allowed to speak? Why can't we have the courage of our convictions to be heard on the same stage as our opposition?
Or is it just that its so much fun complaining, if we actually took the bull by the horns and changed it ourselves, we'd have nothing left to bitch about. That is true feminism - an actual desire to change, not a desire to winge.
Thursday, 12 June 2008
Narcissism with a penis
Are all men narcissistic at some level? I know that’s a blunt tool to throw at you so early on a Thursday morning, but I’d at least like the idea to be entertained. Some less so than others, and of course the odd complete exception from the rule. Many men I know would freely admit that they are. Narcissism goes hand in hand with the arrogance I find many modern men drape around tailored shoulders, and are all to often proud of. It’s a quality that, I’m almost ashamed to admit, I often find rather attractive.
Ashamed, because of course this narcissistic quality in men has a frightening danger of turning into something more than just “an abnormal desire for ones self, where you lack empathy, and unconscious inadequacy of self esteem, due to regression of child development… a delusion that you are more important than everyone else.” It can turn into something much darker, as all too frequently we’ve learned the hard way.
“In a relationship, a male narcissist wants to be the centre of a woman's life and feels that she should be subordinate to him in all ways. He may devalue the partner because she does not live up to his wishes. When frustrated, he withdraws his love and resorts to rage and projection. He provides very little emotional satisfaction for his partner, yet he demands her perfect responsiveness.” Now, you ask yourself why any woman would be so silly as to make herself vulnerable to a man of such deficiency, but let me tell you. It happens to the best of us, and it’s easier than it sounds to fall for a guy who nestles many of these qualities close to his heart. In its infant state, it has meant that dating in the modern age has seemingly become a power battle – who can call who less, who can give less of a shit. The person who wins is the person who will, eventually, get the elbow– a kind of bittersweet reward for being the most important. But before that happens, a woman will all too often lose her confidence, sense of self, happiness and sanity.
This describes it perfectly:
"A narcissist is skilled at the art of verbal abuse and the narcissist is proficient at verbally abusing women. Narcissists like to frustrate women. Their behaviour toward a woman keeps her on the edge of insanity because she doesn't know what is coming next. The narcissist uses what he deems the blunt or brutal truth to eat away at any attributes that a woman might have. The woman is left with no self-esteem when the narcissist is through with her. This is the way he wants her. If her self esteem is not in tact he can gain control over her and retain her as narcissistic supply.”
Of course, I’m not making the sweeping generalisation that all men are of this level – indeed, talking to a physiologist girl friend of mine last night, I found myself trying to convince us both that there were men with a normal level of narcissism pumping in their veins, in order that we might be a) attracted to them but b) not get too bruised a heart along the way. I really hope I’m right.
Ashamed, because of course this narcissistic quality in men has a frightening danger of turning into something more than just “an abnormal desire for ones self, where you lack empathy, and unconscious inadequacy of self esteem, due to regression of child development… a delusion that you are more important than everyone else.” It can turn into something much darker, as all too frequently we’ve learned the hard way.
“In a relationship, a male narcissist wants to be the centre of a woman's life and feels that she should be subordinate to him in all ways. He may devalue the partner because she does not live up to his wishes. When frustrated, he withdraws his love and resorts to rage and projection. He provides very little emotional satisfaction for his partner, yet he demands her perfect responsiveness.” Now, you ask yourself why any woman would be so silly as to make herself vulnerable to a man of such deficiency, but let me tell you. It happens to the best of us, and it’s easier than it sounds to fall for a guy who nestles many of these qualities close to his heart. In its infant state, it has meant that dating in the modern age has seemingly become a power battle – who can call who less, who can give less of a shit. The person who wins is the person who will, eventually, get the elbow– a kind of bittersweet reward for being the most important. But before that happens, a woman will all too often lose her confidence, sense of self, happiness and sanity.
This describes it perfectly:
"A narcissist is skilled at the art of verbal abuse and the narcissist is proficient at verbally abusing women. Narcissists like to frustrate women. Their behaviour toward a woman keeps her on the edge of insanity because she doesn't know what is coming next. The narcissist uses what he deems the blunt or brutal truth to eat away at any attributes that a woman might have. The woman is left with no self-esteem when the narcissist is through with her. This is the way he wants her. If her self esteem is not in tact he can gain control over her and retain her as narcissistic supply.”
Of course, I’m not making the sweeping generalisation that all men are of this level – indeed, talking to a physiologist girl friend of mine last night, I found myself trying to convince us both that there were men with a normal level of narcissism pumping in their veins, in order that we might be a) attracted to them but b) not get too bruised a heart along the way. I really hope I’m right.
Wednesday, 11 June 2008
Either way, what's in a name?
Loath as I am to promote this website, having been in the audience of a seminar where the editor sat as one of the panelists, the f-word throws up an interesting 'Ask a feminist'.
Lets, for a moment, ignore the puke-inducing title of this section, and focus on what they're saying. Surnames. Taking one's partners name on marrying them, and giving your kid the same.
I have some experience here - not as childbearing mother or doe eyed wife-to-be - but as a child who's hippy parents who were thinking about the very same thing, all the way back when chicks were burning their bra's and dudes thought feminists were cool.
Mum kept her name. Dad kept his. Neither, by my recollection, ever wore a ring. Dad lost his diving and Mum claimed to, mysteriously, 'have one somewhere'. I was given Dad's surname, as was my older brother. A surname we now share with a step-mother and step-sisters. For this reason, I now feel little ownership with my surname (indeed, I couldn't have a more common name if I tried) so the opportunity to spice it up a bit would be jumped at like a fat man in a bakery.
The thing is - their decision was a personal, and to them, a natural one. Although it wasn't widely done at the time, and Mum had a bit of a battle reminding certain stubborn people that no, in fact, she wasn't Mrs Wood, nor had she ever been, they claim there wasn't the kind of hair-pulling 'is it more feminist for me to do this or this' that one is required to go through today. It seems, although much more widely accepted, the choice has just given us more of a dilema. But what's in a name (and that argument works on either side of the coin)?
Nor did it ever cause much of a fuss that I had a different name to Mum. In fact, I grew up wondering why other families weren't the same as mine, putting it down to extraordinary coincidence that their my friends' parents' surnames should match. How unique, I thought, they were! When Mum worked as a substitute teacher once in my tiny primary school, it saved me much rib jabbing and bullying taunts, as no-one but teachers and close friends were any the wiser that I'd been brewed a few years previous in a womb not far from them... And I'm pre-e-etty sure Mum didn't love me any the less because I had a different name. We, as mother and daughter, are individuals fussed by a bond reaching far beyond an initial.
My point is - families are unique - in this day and age, more than ever. The choice is hers, for her to embrace, not fret over. With a bit of common sense and individuality, such decisions shouldn't have her ears bleeding. I find it sad that someone need write to a feminist website to ask them what to do on this issue, as it should be about what's right for her, and her family.
I call myself a feminist. A normal feminist. So I'm not going to lose any sleep if I take another name one day. Nor am I going to if the opportunity doesn't present itself.
Lets, for a moment, ignore the puke-inducing title of this section, and focus on what they're saying. Surnames. Taking one's partners name on marrying them, and giving your kid the same.
I have some experience here - not as childbearing mother or doe eyed wife-to-be - but as a child who's hippy parents who were thinking about the very same thing, all the way back when chicks were burning their bra's and dudes thought feminists were cool.
Mum kept her name. Dad kept his. Neither, by my recollection, ever wore a ring. Dad lost his diving and Mum claimed to, mysteriously, 'have one somewhere'. I was given Dad's surname, as was my older brother. A surname we now share with a step-mother and step-sisters. For this reason, I now feel little ownership with my surname (indeed, I couldn't have a more common name if I tried) so the opportunity to spice it up a bit would be jumped at like a fat man in a bakery.
The thing is - their decision was a personal, and to them, a natural one. Although it wasn't widely done at the time, and Mum had a bit of a battle reminding certain stubborn people that no, in fact, she wasn't Mrs Wood, nor had she ever been, they claim there wasn't the kind of hair-pulling 'is it more feminist for me to do this or this' that one is required to go through today. It seems, although much more widely accepted, the choice has just given us more of a dilema. But what's in a name (and that argument works on either side of the coin)?
Nor did it ever cause much of a fuss that I had a different name to Mum. In fact, I grew up wondering why other families weren't the same as mine, putting it down to extraordinary coincidence that their my friends' parents' surnames should match. How unique, I thought, they were! When Mum worked as a substitute teacher once in my tiny primary school, it saved me much rib jabbing and bullying taunts, as no-one but teachers and close friends were any the wiser that I'd been brewed a few years previous in a womb not far from them... And I'm pre-e-etty sure Mum didn't love me any the less because I had a different name. We, as mother and daughter, are individuals fussed by a bond reaching far beyond an initial.
My point is - families are unique - in this day and age, more than ever. The choice is hers, for her to embrace, not fret over. With a bit of common sense and individuality, such decisions shouldn't have her ears bleeding. I find it sad that someone need write to a feminist website to ask them what to do on this issue, as it should be about what's right for her, and her family.
I call myself a feminist. A normal feminist. So I'm not going to lose any sleep if I take another name one day. Nor am I going to if the opportunity doesn't present itself.
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