Saturday, June 20, 2009

I'll let you be in my dream if I can be in yours

I have this rumbling fear that the country is sinking into right wing bigoted quicksand, and over the next decade we will all be suffocated slowly by our own fear and intolerance. It will be bad for lots of people, and lots of those people will be women.

Example 1: Female journalist is pilloried on CiF for suggesting, actually quite apologetically, that the students at St Annes College Oxford who elected a "white heterosexual male officer" were fuckwits and worse. Whereas anyone who has had to walk into a party full of shitfaced six foot rugby players to retrieve their stolen underwear from someone's head could tell you that whatever white heterosexual Oxbridge males need, it's not more representation.

Example 2: Successful-and-thin Liz Jones writes about how appalling it was to actually eat (her version of) normally for three whole weeks. This article made me feel very, very weird. I don't think I know a woman who has a relationship with food that is completely free of complications, and really, the last thing any of us needs is 'I know I am so wrong to basically starve myself but it is the only thing that validates me and I can't wait to get back to it' shit like this.

Example 3: A bad habit of mine is playing online puzzle games when I'm bored. Which is how I came by BubbleBox.com. The game types: Action, Adventure, Puzzle, Skill, Sport, Sandbox and... Girls. The top Girls ones include Cake Mania, Beauty Resort, Personal Shopper, and My New Room. On the one hand there is stuff, and on the other there is stuff - pink, sparkly stuff - for girls. A trivial concern, maybe. Or maybe not.

There is the odd glimmer of light. For a couple of years now I have been following I Blame The Patriarchy - beautifully written (the posts - one can't always say the same for the comments), furious radical feminism mixed with heartwarming nature crap. Google Reader suggested I might like it, and I do. Even though I, you know, live with a dude.

It was IBTP which pointed me at Sarah Haskins. And also taught me the word 'cuntalina', though that didn't go down so well with the radfems. Anyway, this is one of the things I read in my spare time. I don't share every sentiment, but it goes a long way to reminding me that Femail (and, let's face it, Observer Woman) are, basically, part of the problem.

But I don't see it getting better anytime soon. I think the solution might involve moving to a log cabin by a lake and listening to nothing but birdsong till we sort this shit out. Anyone want to come along?

This post was brought to you by Talking World War III Blues - Bob Dylan.

joella

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5 Comments:

Blogger Beth said...

Out of all of that 'I'd rather be thin than happy' article what made me cross was:

"so I vomited it straight back onto my plate, in front of everyone."

Smashing. Bet everyone else really enjoyed their lentil & bacon stew after that.

9:24 pm  
Blogger Jeremy Dennis said...

I have an uncomplicated relationship with food. Although my courgettes are growing a bit weirdly this year.

9:29 am  
Blogger Jo said...

My relationship with food hovers on the edge of complexity, without actually being that complicated. I worry that this may change, but so far so good.

12:13 pm  
Blogger tomato said...

re: the log cabin.

I know a great lesbian-run ranch near the rockies that seems, despite being in Alberta, to be just such a hiding place of peace.

7:57 pm  
Blogger Jo said...

I read about the lesbian-run ranch near the rockies. It sounds like something from a parallel universe. A good parallel universe.

11:17 pm  

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