Olenska

Spotted on Facebook: a sexist and degrading form of cyber-bullying in disguise

Sat, 27 Apr 2013 23:21:14 +0100

A new trend of “Spotted” Facebook pages is allowing people space to post anonymous abuse at individuals who can easily identify themselves, and then scolding dissenters for lacking a sense of humour.

If you’ve spent any time on Facebook recently, you’ve probably seen ten shared photos about how much somebody loves their mum, nine ill-spelt statuses about being tired, eight likes about how funny a video of a cat meowing is and seven statuses from a Spotted page. Originally limited to universities, these pages have spread like wildfire across Facebook, and have now started to encompass whole towns and cities as the trend for anonymous posting takes over. The posts range from the well-meaning “just found a lost cat on the street!” to the obscenely sexually threatening “To the slag in Poundland who id’d me for rizlas, Next time my cock will be so far down your throat you’ll be shitting jizz for a week.” Posts are overwhelmingly focused on the physical attractiveness of women, usually worded in a less than eloquent, if not just downright sexist way.

Spotted pages were initially a novel way to confront loudmouths in university libraries, or the social media equivalent of lonely hearts columns, as lonelyguy01 posted about the beautiful girl he’d seen in the coffee shop and vice versa. However, this isn’t print where posts are carefully chosen and moderated. Facebook offers uncharted anonymous territory where a post can have twenty comments in less than five minutes, accusing people of being the subject of the post, or indeed the author. This is social media where a tirade of abuse can be posted anonymously - aimed very specifically at individuals who can identify themselves - yet not know who has posted the threatening, sexist or degrading comment. It’s cyber-bullying in disguise; dissenters are scolded for lacking a sense of humour, for not deferring to the apparently irrefutable concept of “banter”, or for ignoring the good that the site has done - while it may have helped find a cat, it’s also passed on the unwelcoming message to the younger generation that Big Brother is ever-present and he really really cares about attractive you are.

People are literally no longer able to leave their front door without facing the possibility of being spotted and mentioned in a wider public forum - any statistic is up for discussion - too fat? People can abuse you about that anonymously! ID’d someone as part of your job at Sainsbury’s? Yep, your personal attractiveness is up for debate because you refused to allow a sixteen year-old to buy cigarettes.

There are no legal repercussions for naming and shaming others on Facebook, and for the more salubrious comments, it is likely that proceedings at the High Court would be the only successful way to get Facebook to release computer IP addresses. Even these measures lack gravity, however, as a claimant could simply argue that they had left their profile logged in. Meanwhile, sexist and threatening behaviour carries on being posted anonymously, as the moderation of comments and posts is left to the people who created to the page. Facebook has faced criticism in the past for ignoring threatening behaviour - when I reported the status about Poundland, I was told it had been reviewed and deemed acceptable. I can’t help but think that if it had been said outside of social media, the person could have faced serious legal consequences.
I contacted Spotted: Stratford Upon Avon to see how they moderate the comments and they replied with “With regards to posts we try to look at them as if we were the recipient and how we would feel, we also have Facebook filters on to remove some comments on posts for us but we also check every status and remove any comments not suitable”, however they admitted that it is impossible to moderate 24/7. This is the crux of the problem - a site which isn’t constantly moderated is the breeding-ground for bullies to play their anonymous hand, protected from any repercussions, whilst a community is alerted to the indignity of somebody choosing to go outside without wearing makeup. Anonymous posting dissipates the realtime consequences that the subject of the post end up feeling; the prickling discomfort of being constantly scrutinised, and then judged because you’re just not good looking enough for them

Meanwhile on “Spotted: Uncensored”…. “To the girl in McDonalds, you’re fit as fuck. Can’t wait until your old enough to not wear a uniform!

I originally wrote this for the New Statesman - link is in the content source if you want to comment

The Republican Guide to Female Anatomy

Mon, 27 Aug 2012 23:29:52 +0100

The Republican Guide to Female Anatomy

Yekaterina Samutsevich closing statement at the Pussy Riot Trial

Fri, 10 Aug 2012 19:45:00 +0100

Yekaterina Samutsevich’s closing statement in the criminal case against the feminist punk group Pussy Riot:

During the closing statement, the defendant is expected to repent or express regret for her deeds, or to enumerate attenuating circumstances. In my case, as in the case of my colleagues in the group, this is completely unnecessary. Instead, I want to express my views about the causes of what has happened with us.

The fact that Christ the Savior Cathedral had become a significant symbol in the political strategy of our powers that be was already clear to many thinking people when Vladimir Putin’s former [KGB] colleague Kirill Gundyaev took over as head of the Russian Orthodox Church. After this happened, Christ the Savior Cathedral began to be used openly as a flashy setting for the politics of the security services, which are the main source of power [in Russia].

Why did Putin feel the need to exploit the Orthodox religion and its aesthetics? After all, he could have employed his own, far more secular tools of power—for example, national corporations, or his menacing police system, or his own obedient judiciary system. It may be that the tough, failed policies of Putin’s government, the incident with the submarine Kursk, the bombings of civilians in broad daylight, and other unpleasant moments in his political career forced him to ponder the fact that it was high time to resign; otherwise, the citizens of Russia would help him do this. Apparently, it was then that he felt the need for more convincing, transcendental guarantees of his long tenure at the helm. It was here that the need arose to make use of the aesthetics of the Orthodox religion, historically associated with the heyday of Imperial Russia, where power came not from earthly manifestations such as democratic elections and civil society, but from God Himself.

How did he succeed in doing this? After all, we still have a secular state, and shouldn’t any intersection of the religious and political spheres be dealt with severely by our vigilant and critically minded society? Here, apparently, the authorities took advantage of a certain deficit of Orthodox aesthetics in Soviet times, when the Orthodox religion had the aura of a lost history, of something crushed and damaged by the Soviet totalitarian regime, and was thus an opposition culture. The authorities decided to appropriate this historical effect of loss and present their new political project to restore Russia’s lost spiritual values, a project which has little to do with a genuine concern for preservation of Russian Orthodoxy’s history and culture.

It was also fairly logical that the Russian Orthodox Church, which has long had a mystical connection with power, emerged as this project’s principal executor in the media. Moreover, it was also agreed that the Russian Orthodox Church, unlike the Soviet era, when the church opposed, above all, the crudeness of the authorities towards history itself, should also confront all baleful manifestations of contemporary mass culture, with its concept of diversity and tolerance.

Implementing this thoroughly interesting political project has required considerable quantities of professional lighting and video equipment, air time on national TV channels for hours-long live broadcasts, and numerous background shoots for morally and ethically edifying news stories, where in fact the Patriarch’s well-constructed speeches would be pronounced, helping the faithful make the right political choice during the election campaign, a difficult time for Putin. Moreover, all shooting has to take place continuously; the necessary images must sink into the memory and be constantly updated, to create the impression of something natural, constant and compulsory.

Our sudden musical appearance in the Cathedral of Christ the Savior with the song “Mother of God, Drive Putin Out” violated the integrity of this media image, generated and maintained by the authorities for so long, and revealed its falsity. In our performance we dared, without the Patriarch’s blessing, to combine the visual image of Orthodox culture and protest culture, suggesting to smart people that Orthodox culture belongs not only to the Russian Orthodox Church, the Patriarch and Putin, that it might also take the side of civic rebellion and protest in Russia.

Perhaps such an unpleasant large-scale effect from our media intrusion into the cathedral was a surprise to the authorities themselves. First they tried to present our performance as the prank of heartless militant atheists. But they made a huge blunder, since by this time we were already known as an anti-Putin feminist punk band that carried out their media raids on the country’s major political symbols.

In the end, considering all the irreversible political and symbolic losses caused by our innocent creativity, the authorities decided to protect the public from us and our nonconformist thinking. Thus ended our complicated punk adventure in the Cathedral of Christ the Savior.

I now have mixed feelings about this trial. On the one hand, we now expect a guilty verdict. Compared to the judicial machine, we are nobodies, and we have lost. On the other hand, we have won. Now the whole world sees that the criminal case against us has been fabricated. The system cannot conceal the repressive nature of this trial. Once again, Russia looks different in the eyes of the world from the way Putin tries to present it at daily international meetings. All the steps toward a state governed by the rule of law that he promised have obviously not been made. And his statement that the court in our case will be objective and make a fair decision is another deception of the entire country and the international community. That is all. Thank you.

EDIT: This was taken from Chtodelat News (https://chtodelat.wordpress.com/2012/08/08/yekaterina-samutsevich-closing-statement/), whom yesterday I forgot to put acknowledgment too, apologies! I just noticed it wasn’t on Tumblr as well so wanted to make it able for reblogs and such. All credit goes to them

Reddit and the Rapists: a disturbing commentary from the anoymous

Tue, 07 Aug 2012 21:24:00 +0100

A recent thread on Reddit asked rapists what their motivation was for carrying out sexual assaults and if they regretted it. Whilst what personal qualities or circumstances render somebody capable of rape is a serious and worthwhile issue to explore, the internet isn’t a suitable place. Opportunities to hear rapists should be taken away from the public eye, by trained professionals, not by Reddit. We might as well start compiling 4chan into an encyclopaedia.

The internet is such an open forum that anonymously written rape stories can be written to be more shocking or unique than others, in the most depressing style of one-upmanship. Marketing rape into a sensational story just makes it more dangerous.

The stories become an encyclopaedia of how to rape women, what to look for. It overshadowed the sobering acknowledgement that rape is often committed by somebody close to the victim, as users talked about what they looked for in victims; “I wanted the thrill of the chase, and that’s what led me to forcing myself on girls. I would find attractive girls that were self-conscious about their looks. Girls who were pretty in their own unique way, but not the outgoing sort, mostly introverts, and girls that didn’t party or do wild things. Hopefully a girl who was a bit damaged, had a shitty ex-boyfriend, or family issues, came from a small shut in town, that sort of thing.”

“Picked her up at a bar, bought her drinks, took her home with me. We do some foreplay and then she tells me that she should really get going because she made a huge mistake. Well too fucking bad. I wasted the last 5 hours baiting this fish, and now it wants to escape. Nope.”

For victims of rape, reading this thread would have been a triggering event, as ultimately, its not the rapists story to tell. To find that your rapist gets upvoted for roughly raping you at knife point highlights why this thread was dangerous. A recurrent point was “‘woman use their sexuality to economically exploit men.” IF YOU BUY ME A JACKET POTATO AND EXPECT ME TO SLEEP WITH YOU, I WILL NOT SLEEP WITH YOU BECAUSE OF THAT. NOT EVER.

This wasn’t a useful analogous exercise providing an insight into rapists thoughts and activities, it rather became a forum of rape apologising, where people were lauded for carrying on, past the point of ‘No’.

The thread raised an interesting point overall, that rape does need to be discussed and looked at differently, it does need to be a part of a wider discussion that goes beyond the idea that all rapists are strangers in dark spaces. Norwich Rape Crisis shelter predict that over 13,000 women are raped at work each year and that four out of five victims will know their rapist. In short, roughly 90% of victims are raped by somebody they know.

Rape does have to be discussed away from the current hysteria it often possesses when brought up in public; “Don’t drink too much! Or walk down a dark alley! DON’T WEAR A LOW-CUT TOP YOU FLUTTERING HUSSY!” West Mercia Police recently apologised for their recent campaign posters, which highlighted a women’s responsibility for not drinking too much, but said nothing about saying no.

However, when the rapists story becomes more interesting than the victims story due to its anonymous fictional content than we have a problem.

This photo makes me smile every time I look at it. Me (holding...

Fri, 13 Jul 2012 17:22:20 +0100

This photo makes me smile every time I look at it. Me (holding the gin bottle obviously) and my friends after a gin picnic. WHICH IS A THING.

The sheer wrongness of strip clubs

Mon, 09 Jul 2012 23:52:21 +0100

To paraphrase the excellent Caitlin Moran, it’s the year 2012, and strip clubs - for so long regarded as the holding pen for the last few sad sweaty fucks on earth - have become acceptable again. I don’t see strip clubs as glamorous and empowering for women, I find them offensive, unnecessary and sexist. I think more women need to stand up and say this; that actually, they are uncomfortable with them, rather than letting it slide for fear of being called a kill-joy. Strip clubs entrench detrimental ideas about women into society’s way of thinking - nobody would put up with it in any other setting, so why are we supposed to accept it purely because it’s happening in a purpose built club?

If my boyfriend was to go to one, my main objection isn’t that he’ll be looking at other women (although, to be honest, I think that if anyone is paying someone to dance for them in underwear then it basically counts as a sexual encounter, and thus infidelity, albeit on a lesser scale). I just don’t understand why men, perfectly decent, bloody funny, thoughtful young men, who would never dream of harassing a women on the street, or shouting racist behaviour at a football match, no matter what anybody else is doing, would think nothing of engaging in sexist behaviour because “that’s what happens on stag nights” or on a lads night out. Why is sexism and treating women as commodities okay whereas other forms of discrimination are utterly unacceptable? It royally pisses me off that this sort of sexism is seen as not that big a deal.

Strip clubs defended as a sort of ‘female empowerment’, as if stripping down to your thong in front of some fat pervy geezer is empowering. I refuse to accept this as an argument, stripping for payment will never be the way I choose to get my kicks, nor should it have to be. The line of defence “it helps women funding their way through education” is so utterly redundant it makes me want to cry whilst raging, in order to save time by combining my stages of grief. IF WOMEN ARE HAVING TO STRIP IN ORDER TO GET AN EDUCATION, THEN WE ARE UTTERLY FUCKED.

The entire culture makes me sad for men and women. I hate the macho, laddish stereotype and think it disempowers men just as much. The fact that strip clubs have somehow become an acceptable everyday thing is an example of how much the attitude still prevails that women are primarily there to be looked at. When can we, as a society, collectively get past the idea that women aren’t there to be looked at?

In short, it’s a commodification I won’t support.

Nick Minaj deconstructs sexism whilst applying her eyeliner

Sun, 08 Jul 2012 12:48:25 +0100

Nick Minaj deconstructs sexism whilst applying her eyeliner

'We don’t mind a sex kitten but nobody’s interested in the cat'

Sun, 08 Jul 2012 12:31:00 +0100

Female sexuality is slowly creeping out of the dark dark cave it’s cowered in for may years, hiding behind the general assumption that women don’t like sex as much as men, nor can they talk about it openly. It’s not for ladies to talk about wanking.

This is of course, what rational-minded people would straightforwardly dispute as bullshit. Women have just as many sexy feelings as men, and act them out singly as well as with a partner. Just read Caitlin Moran’s ‘How To Be a Woman’ to read about the wide range of women’s wank fantasies. However, women still have societal dictates to comply with, whereby being a goddess in the kitchen and whore in the bedroom is somewhat expected by men and women alike. Anyone who has tried my salted caramel sauce has lustful urges so strong that I think it should have its own section of fan fiction on the internet. However, it doesn’t form part of a goddess character, rather it’s just a really good caramel sauce. The expectation of societal roles extends to elderly women, who should be sugar and spice and all things nice. Certainly they shouldn’t be HAVING SEXY THOUGHTS.

Sadie Hennessy’s exhibition at the WW gallery confronts the bullshit right on - why is women’s sexuality such a taboo topic, especially older women’s sexuality? We have dirty old men, where are all the dirty old women? Why can’t women get old disgracefully? There seems to be three society-dictated time periods of being a woman; before marriage and children, married and with children, elderly. Actually, these are all transitional things, I might someday be with children and unmarried. I might be married and not having children. Or I might sod the lot and travel around Italy eating excellent food. I don’t know. Whatever the case, I don’t think women stop having sex, or having fun once they’ve passed the menopause. Women don’t ‘heal over’ and their ovaries don’t become a kitsch accessory, painted pink and dipped in glitter.

In the exhibition, almost pornographic pictures of women lie on high shelves, similar to the positioning of male magazines in supermarkets where woman have their tits out on the front, contorted into the sexual positions that porn publicises as normal, as if every woman can get her ankles behind her head. If I ever do the splits, it’s in a very tequila-induced state and I can’t walk for a week after. I once did such an amazing jump across a dance floor that I genuinely believed I was flying. Everything whirled around me as I hurtled forward into the unknown (the gin bar in the corner). The experience repeated itself a minute later as the bouncers threw me outside. I didn’t have men lust after me me, rather I had rubbish strewn around me and a headache for 3 days. Most pornographic pictures of women fall into two categories; they are either graphic, with the women displaying every secondary sexual characteristic she has, or the women is portrayed in a childlike innocent matter, again sugar and spice and all things nice. Either way, it ends up being a ridiculously unrealistic portrayal that does all us women a disservice. The pictures aren’t quite pornographic in this exhibition thanks to one notable exception - anything that would make the picture truly graphic is blurred out, these woman have become true to form Barbie dolls. I wish I had a picture to show of it, but my short arse stature would no more let me do that, then my non-bendy legs would let me contort myself into the downward dog. It raises the point that those sort of pictures are so anti-women in the first place, they are about male attraction and desire, and without the key feminine parts on display, the photos, and the women in them, become redundant.

The exhibition had a great display of lighthouse postcards, but in every picture, the lighthouse had been replaced by a penis, as if Virginia Woolf had released postcards commemorating ‘To the Lighthouse’. Another picture, showed the women holding onto a penis the size of her, whilst a man watches from the other side of the room. The penis is not only metaphorically the elephant in the room, it also is physically.

Hennessy also focuses on older women’s sexuality with the piece ‘Big Night Out’, the Zimmer frame becomes an object laced with sexual meanings: it becomes a controversy thanks to the addition of boots and a handbag. Hennessy presents it in a humorous manner but the message is clear; older women’s sexuality is more taboo than any pornography out there. It’s far more acceptable to see a women stripping, then an older women getting her kicks.

Hennessy confronts an important point of bullshit societal taboos, but the exhibition has a wider focus, it challenges wider evils as she presents a matchstick box filled with children’s name tags, but these are the name of dictators. It confronts the actual elephant in the room - all these people were children at one time, but grew up to be so detached from the childlike state of innocence that we might as well declare it null and void.

One of my favourite parts of the exhibition was the 1950s glamour magazines, where the women were staring dreamily into the distance, as if they DID NOT KNOW THAT WE WOULD STILL BE DEALING WITH THIS SHIT IN 2012. The magazines are superimposed with headlines from today’s magazines, ‘The NO-KNICKER GIRLS’ and such, as if that’s the burdening point of women’s concerns, whose wearing knickers. WOMEN ARE THE BIGGEST VICTIM OF CUTS TODAY, AND MAGAZINES WANT TO KNOW WHO IS WEARING KNICKERS. At some point in the future I forsee myself burning mine, in order to stay warm, whilst the bankers feast on pheasant and Bollinger.

In short, the exhibition is very very good. It confronts a lot of taboos in a light-humoured way and I wish I could have stayed for longer. There’s many brilliant pieces I haven’t even focused on, so if you can go see it, please do. It is at 34/35 Hatton Garden, Clerkenwell, London EC1N 8DX, and is open Weds, Thurs, Fri 11-6pm and Saturday 11-4pm. It’s on until the 14th July. (http://www.wilsonwilliamsgallery.com/)

I really enjoyed it, and many appreciations to the excellent ‘Thirty-something Art Dealer’ (http://diaryofathirtysomethingartdealer.blogspot.co.uk/) who provided the title. Many thanks also to Francesca Brooks, the Press Officer who alerted me to the exhibition (http://thepilgrimages.wordpress.com/)

Running into danger: the culture of street heckling

Thu, 28 Jun 2012 20:20:13 +0100

I don’t particularly like running. By that, I mean that in the scale of ‘great things that I like’, it perhaps lies just above dropping a nail gun on my foot, but far far below eating Kettle Chips on the sofa. However, I like to eat pizza and this seems like the best way to ensure my body shape doesn’t engorge to vast proportions, like Violet in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

The most off-putting part of running now is the heckling you get from men when all you’re trying to do is run as fast as you can to Eye of the Tiger goddamit. It feels as if heckling lone women out running is becoming an acceptable activity; casually walk to the pub, chat with your mates, get a drink in, repeatedly scream “OI SLUT!” at the top of your voice at the female running past, return to your conversation, get more drinks in.

The idea that this is acceptable feels completely alien to me, but apparently not to the strangers who have shouted at me about my tits, or my arse, or that I should lie down on their lap. I respond with a poker face, to not give anybody the pleasure of seeing me flustered but sometimes I want to stop and challenge them because I’m not sure they realise how utterly terrifying it is for me. It’s not harmless banter, it’s a group of men baying at a twenty-year old whose primary motivation for running is to stave off becoming Channel 4’s next insensitive documentary topic.

RunnersWorld.co.uk has a list of ‘30 Things Every Woman Should Know About Running’. Six of the tips relate to how women can keep themselves safe whilst running; such as not to wear jewellery, or run at night, to carry a personal alarm and leave a route of where you’re running when you leave the house. The advice that we’re given is to protect ourselves, rather than for the culprits to be taught not to harass, but in practical terms it feels like that’s all I can do - the onus is always on us to protect ourselves by running earlier, or running with a partner, rather than for certain men to change their behaviour. It’s an entirely different sort of abuse that women receive too, it always seems to be much more personal; the comments are often aggressively sexual or about the women’s body (it’s too fat, it’s too thin, my tits are too small to be wearing a running bra), and I don’t think the comments men receive are often of that ilk.

It’s a dispiriting realisation that you have can do absolutely nothing about the heckling without potentially putting yourself in a dangerous situation. Very little can be done about others’ lack of self-control unless they physically assault you, and by then it’s too late. It’s 2012 and there is no better protection for women to protect them from heckling. I always want to stop and ask how they would react if they found someone had made the same comment to their daughter or mother. On the few occasions I have stopped and confronted them, I’ve been told it was a joke and nothing to be taken seriously.

The idea that I should be flattered by the braying of these cretins who have singled me out is ridiculous. I don’t run for self affirmation and I’m not looking for compliments from the fat pisshead who’s just commented on my tits. It’s certainly a minority of men that harass women, but other men need to step in and point out that it’s not acceptable, whether the comments are meant to be insulting or not - I feel that if I stand and confront somebody I’ll either be laughed at or punched.

In the meantime, I just like to run faster and harder, stamping their stupid faces into the mud.

FLIRTING AND WHY IT NEEDS A SPECIAL HAT

Sat, 23 Jun 2012 14:16:11 +0100

Flirting is a myth to me, like bikini bodies or the theory that flicky eyeliner is achievable, and not a wistful dream, shrouded in regret and cataracts. In short, I think I have more of a chance for the Olympics then ever understanding any sort of flirty behaviour. I don’t think I’m especially remedial but if everyone wore a hat when flirting, it would make life a little easier.

I realise this demand might initially come across as slightly certain-historical-figures-insisted-on-this-and-segregation-based-on-arbitrary-characteristics-and-behaviour-is-tiresome. You might also point out that Hitler didn’t actually make anyone wear a hat, but I think we can all summarily agree that he went a lot further and this whole flirting debacle doesn’t need to go there. IT JUST NEEDS A HAT. Or a hand gesture.

Unlike dogs with their intuitive ear-satellites (I’m not a vet), I don’t understand when somebody’s flirting with me. I could sit there awkwardly chatting to somebody for twenty odd minutes on a night out, without realising he is APPARENTLY MAKING A MOVE. Braille would be clearer at this point of cluelessness.

I’m a fairly (overly) chatty person, and I assume most conversations with strangers on a night out are just a way of avoiding dubstep, whilst being able to smoke heavily and still drink gin. Therefore, any conversation will be enthusiastically taken up by me, and any chance of romance is ruined, as the advance turns into an enthusiastic Q&A hosted by me, peppered with my thoughts on politics and feminism.

Very quickly the advance is ruined as I relentlessly field questions about your chosen topic. It’s essentially a drunker version of Mastermind. One particular highlight of mine is when a boy invited me out to the smoking area, and I talked about my interest in goat farming for twenty minutes. I’m not entirely sure when I last saw a goat that wasn’t part of an internet meme, so I don’t know where that particular desire stemmed from.

However, if a guy came up to me, sporting a SPECIAL FLIRTING HAT then I would immediately know. To be fair, on the extremely rare occasion that I have understood flirting, I am able to extrapolate suitable candidates (as I write this it is becoming inherently clear to me that I perhaps run my love life according to bad game shows) on the basis of a few interests: gin, feminism, doctor who, pizza, politics or books. An interest in one of those is suitable, and a crossover is EVEN BETTER (although I don’t know what feminist pizza looks like - patriarchal pepperoni?).

However, a flirting hat would be a loud FLIRTING KLAXON and we could go from there. As it stands, I panic and accidentally talk about ghosts. Potentially with a crossover into goats. Donations for some sort of counselling are gladly received, gin is even better.

HEY FOREVER 21. NO ONE’S LEGS ARE THAT SKINNY....

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 23:21:48 +0100

HEY FOREVER 21. NO ONE’S LEGS ARE THAT SKINNY. They’d snap :-(

Poor snappable skinny girls.

Durex UK’s Facebook page

Wed, 13 Jun 2012 13:09:26 +0100

Durex UK’s Facebook page

When Durex stopped making sex sexy: the rise of violent advertisements

Wed, 13 Jun 2012 11:54:14 +0100

I’m aware that the advert is a ‘spoof’, as in it was previously a Burger King advert and presumably they had no intention of posting it in magazines and ensuring it conformed to ASA’s standards of acceptability.

However, they posted it on their Facebook page with a 165k like’s, and used the caption ‘Poor Woman…(or maybe lucky one?), which was my main concern, especially for a company that should promote healthy sex, not create a link between sex and violence.

Protest sign earlier this month against 40 Days for Life

Tue, 12 Jun 2012 23:22:04 +0100

Protest sign earlier this month against 40 Days for Life

This is one reason why i love Obama

Tue, 12 Jun 2012 01:44:19 +0100

This is one reason why i love Obama

When Durex stopped making sex sexy: the rise of violent advertisements

Mon, 11 Jun 2012 22:43:00 +0100

Durex UK posted this on their Facebook page on Wednesday, with the caption “Poor woman…(or maybe lucky one)?”

Maybe I’ve had a complete sense of humour failure, rendering me with a complete inability to see a picture of an injured women with plasters on her face as anything but a woman who’s high on her luck that week. I was under the misapprehension that half of the fun of sex lies in the woman also having a good time. This advert doesn’t show a woman having a good time, it shows her injured, a victim of PR sexual depravity. The whole advert is just another step towards normalising sexual violence against women. Durex should have stopped their caption at ‘Poor woman.’

The World Health Organisation defines sexual violence as including “physically forced or otherwise coerced penetration of the vulva or anus with a penis, other body part or object.” This advert glorifies sexual violence and helps create an unhealthy stereotype of women as sexual objects. A simple google search for ‘sexual violence against women’ leads you to endviolenceagainstwomen.org.uk which cites a poll by Amnesty in 2005 which revealed that a third of people believe women who flirt are partially responsible for being raped and a quarter of those asked said that they thought a women was partially or totally responsible for being raped if she was wearing sexy or revealing clothing. This fusion of sex and violence isn’t just taking place in Darfur, its also present in huge multinational companies like Durex who posted this on a Facebook page with 167,301 likes.

The marketing of dangerous activities can have a reinforcing effect when presented in such a ‘light-humoured’ way; it’s part of an emerging culture where manhood is synonymous with power and control over women - that isn’t necessarily a new concept but the format its taking is. It’s hilarious banter lolz when True Lad post jokes about rape and New Look sell misogynist T-shirts demeaning women to permanently sexually available things that are always up for it, and hey! Even if they’re not, they might be secretly, just try it! Really it’s a farcical parody of masculinity, but apparently this isn’t clear to a company that acknowledges on its Facebook page that “sex plays a fundamental role in our physical and emotional wellbeing.”

Durex is promoting an ideology of women that is only seen in the most gory porn - one where the man achieves his sexual gratification by leaving the women with injuries at the end of it. The injuries sustained here are covered by plasters, perhaps Durex realised that it wouldn’t be acceptable to show a woman with open wounds at the side of her mouth, perhaps it’s not ‘sexy.’ However, it felt it was acceptable to show the wounds covered up and hidden, akin to a woman wearing sunglasses to hide the black eye she’s received.
The cut-off of the rest of the face removes any emotion, she has stopped being a person and become a sexual receptacle, for which she’s supposed to be grateful. His penis was SO HUGE that it caused injury, what a lucky lady! Banter lolz flooded the Facebook page, with many comments praising Durex for posting the image.

It’s unclear where the line becomes crossed in releasing adverts, or indeed if there is a line at all, when looking at adverts such as this. Does the faceless woman have to be shown with bruising or teeth knocked out before the advertisers would consider it to be glorifying violence against women and unsuitable? “Poor woman…(or maybe lucky one)?” reiterates this point, this woman has been sexually assaulted and her mouth has torn open, but she should really be grateful for his large penis.

The advert plagues me with greater concerns than the consideration of whether to have a shag in the near future. My biggest concern is that I live in a society where women aren’t being treated as human beings, rather they’re sexual playthings, becoming victims by their presence of XX chromosomes and tits. I’m unaware of the memo that went out endorsing sexual violence as an advertising tool but Durex hit the spot with this advert.

EDIT: Just posting Durex UK’s posting of it, to clear up any confusion since the image has now been deleted:

It appears the advert is a spoof advert, taken originally from a Burger King advert and Durex reposted it with the addition of ‘Durex XXL’ on the image, just to clear up any confusion. However, I feel this doesn’t take away from the main point of a company posting this to 167,301 people, with the above caption. My point of Durex glamorising violence and demeaning women is still a valid one, sadly.

Tesco Retro

Sat, 09 Jun 2012 23:06:00 +0100

I wrote a small piece for the brilliant Vagenda magazine, but I’m just reposting it here because I’m vain. Originally taken from http://vagendamag.blogspot.co.uk/2012/06/tesco-retro.html

My local Tesco’s separate their magazines into ‘Women’s interests’ and ‘Men’s interests’. Presumably just in case my ovaries don’t automatically direct me on a nuclear mission trackpath to choose cupcakes and TOWIE and I accidentally buy something I couldn’t possibly be interested in - like Private Eye or The Economist, or The Spectator. I don’t think (or I really really don’t like to think) that Tesco organises its magazines on the basis that women aren’t interested in politics, the economy or current events, and that it’s some sort of patriarchal-oppression drive by one of the biggest supermarkets in Britain. I don’t think that, and I don’t WANT to think that. But routinely, for several months, this particular Tesco has sorted its magazines by placing those magazines, and others, into ‘Men’s interests’. It’s the ignorance that I find most depressing, apparently no one has had a brainwave that a woman might be interested in wider affairs.

My tits do not prevent me from wanting to read about current affairs, in fact, the mere presence of them encourages my interest in politics - women are routinely underpaid, underrepresented and unfairly treated in businesses and wider society. A YouGov survey has just released figures showing that just over 40% of young women in London have experienced sexual harassment in public spaces over the last year. I have a vested interest in current affairs, and the fact that Tesco designates them as anything else than ‘General interests’ is utter bollocks. I try not to get too sweary in my writing but things like this, that can be easily ignored and overlooked, cause me to put on my biggest Doc Martens and start getting sweary with even the smallest and sweetest old lady.

The majority of women’s magazines make me feel like I’m not conforming to society’s unobtainable ideals of femininity. I don’t care about who shaves or doesn’t shave their armpits and I subscribe to the Caitlin Moran school of thinking - that I will only wear high heels that allow me to dance to Lady Gaga and run away from murderers. The most frustrating aspect is that a generation of children are walking through these shops, seeing that these magazines are for men, and this affecting their attitudes of acceptable reading material for men and women. My XX chromosomes only serve to make me brilliantly awesome, and in no way do they define my reading interests. Sort it out Tesco.

Emailing Apprentice candidates, part 2

Sat, 09 Jun 2012 22:49:24 +0100

I might have had a few glasses of wine by the time I emailed Nick….At the time I thought it was light humoured and a witty take on the Apprentice episodes, but I actually sound as if I smoked crack cocaine before deciding that I should spend my evening emailing Nick before I went and shat on a neighbours door in protest at them playing loud music past half nine on a Wednesday night. Maybe I was just grieving the lack of new Apprentice episodes in my life. Maybe.

Hi Nick,

We were big fans of you on the show, and were absolutely devastated when you and your hair didn’t become Sugar’s numero uno!

Just a quick email to spread some blue sky thinking about how we could get you ‘outside the box’ and into our speaking hall! We would LOVE to have you speak as you talk about your time on the apprentice, and some tips on how to get into business. Also some app-development ideas maybe as we’d like to start our own, centered around a game involving pineapples! We’d also love it if you were able to show us how you get your hair so fine, so maybe bring some hairspray! LOL!!

Love to hear from you,

Rosie

I’m not entirely surprised he hasn’t replied. Not surprised, just disappointed.

THE APPRENTICE MADNESS CONTINUES.

Sat, 09 Jun 2012 22:34:52 +0100

I don’t know know where my Apprentice liveblogs have gone but they’re not anywhere that seems to be remotely accessible without me having to sacrifice a goat to Steve Jobs in a sacred ritual, using only an app and the blood of three children. It seems that my my witty caricature of Adam as a sulky albino baby and Jenna as a honking Northern goose is lost forever. I’ve sulked, screamed and now entered the next stage of grief: emailing the candidates as a slightly deranged fan looking to book them for speaking arrangements.

Hi Adam,
I was a big fan of you on The Apprentice, and was extremely happy to
find that you offer your skills as a motivational speaker on your
website. Having seen you in action, the series was a testament to your
obvious skills, as I loved your catchphrases and cheeky mannerisms. It
was a devastating blow when Lord Sugar fired you, but I am happy to
see that this has not stopped you in your tracks. After all, Rome
wasn’t built in a day!

I’ll cut through the mustard Adam, and state now that this is an
enquiry email to ask how much you normally charge for your speeches.
We would love to see some of your blue-sky thinking in action, as you
talk outside the box, and shoot us (metaphorically) into the stars.
Regards,
Rosie

Amazingly he replied.

Hi Rosie,

Thank you for your kind words. The speaking is going really well and is a breath of fresh air to most people. Rates all depend on when, where and who to really? Please email me more details and when you would want me and we can go from there.

Thank you. If there are any problems then please feel free to give me a call on the number below.

Adam Corbally

I don’t know why he replied and didn’t just send me an online restraining order but I see this as an invitation to contact him again. Repeatedly.

The Apprentice, recap Episode 2

Sun, 03 Jun 2012 01:32:00 +0100

Fifteen candidates remain, as Lord Sir Alan Sugar looks for the Marks to his Spencer, his pie to his gravy and the boring to his Ed Sheeran. I’m fairly anxious to find out who’s the next candidate to go after Bulgarian Bilyana bit the bullet last week into the black cab. The main focus of this episode is that Alan Sugar wants a dog he can invest £250,000 into, and use it to control the world’s media, by targeting Larry the cat at No.10

This week it’s invention - the candidates must create a new household gadget and pitch it to some of the UK’s biggest retailers. I vaguely remember a gadget for holding your books when you’re on the beach before, because of course, those double-amputee beach fans are a lucrative market. I hope they create a tap for gin.

21.03: 5:30 AM and I have already seen an ugly tattoo. On Ricky Martin no less. Perhaps he went for the manly Celtic band to combat being called Ricky Martin. Perhaps.

They’re off to the Victoria & Albert museum in Kensington. Stephen appears to be the most annoying person on earth, jumping up and down like a rabid puppy. I would sooner set him on a slow-burning fire than talk to him in the morning. His Rocky style demeanour leads me to wish somebody would punch him, just to quieten him for a little while.

21.04: Jade is obsessed with weird metaphors that include the word ‘knock.’ Today she thinks the boys need knocking down a peg or two. Don’t give them ideas for a household gadget already Jade.

The boys think they’re better because they ‘gel’ better. At this point I’m hoping he means literally.

21.05: I once went on a trip to the V&A. I stayed for half an hour and then went to Harrods instead. However, a concise history is giving me all I need to know here.

Lord Sugar arrives, and it looks a little like a ill-attended political rally.

How does everyone look so well-polished in fifteen minutes? I’d be lucky if I was out my pyjamas by then. H

He finishes his speech, make me some bleedin’ money you layabouts etc

21.06: Time to choose project managers. It’s between the Blonde Assassin and Irish Catherine Tate this week. Jane has a new word for the week ‘Strategic’. She triumphs over Katie and if they win, she is one step closer to being turned into a dog.

I like that Jane’s first task it to shush everyone. Maybe this will work.

21.07: Azhar steps up to the boys team. ‘Master-puppeteer’ has gone out the window, to be replaced by “the killer whale of the sea world.” Where else do you find them? Maybe as a refrigerator salesman he had a few dubious skeletons in his fridge. Anyway, Free Willy etc

21.08:The girls have no ideas at all usefully. Duane floats the idea of a bin which reduces your waste by compacting it. A squashing bin..by using your hand. The boy’s invention is like buying a third foot with which to stomp on rubbish.

21.09: “What problems are we going to solve in the bathroom?” Jane muses. WORLD PEACE! Come on! We can all fit into this bath and have a big soapy hug.

21.10: The boys head off to test this bin idea. I hope somebody just repeatedly points at their foot with a baffled expression, and then gesticulates the wanker sign in the background.

Adam has created a washing-up mitten, which he thinks has bigger potential than handsquish bin. I’m concerned that the soft bit would come off too quickly, or that I would use them whilst drunk, convinced they would exfoliate my legs better.

21.11:The girls are suddenly hit by inspiration, but after hearing their ideas, you’d wonder if it was lightning. They have two ideas - a splash screen to stop your toddlers covering the floor with water, also dangerously fencing the child in, and tap cosy’s. SINCE WE ALL WORRY ABOUT OUR TAPS BEING COLD. If they look cold, run the hot tap for a bit or something.

TBH, if you lie in the bath with your head at the tap end and so have need for a product called a ‘tap cosy’, you’re a wanker. My friend Bethan points out that a splash guard has some potential; you can write down important things you think of in the bath. Also, you can stand behind it and draw a willy on the front so you can pretend to be a man.

WHY HAS NO ONE CREATED SOMETHING TO STOP ME DROPPING MY PHONE DOWN THE TOILET? I’D BUY IT

21.13: The mums like the tap cosy idea. Furthering my theory that if you don’t have to be mental to have children, you certainly become so.

21.15: The boys have gone to their focus group and Adam wearing one yellow plastic glove is making me cringe. He looks like he’s about to give a luminous rectal examination.

Most of the group like the squishbin, whilst one approves of the gloves. This is a group of chefs so I’m assuming all of them have dishwashers but Adam decides that this is a ringing endorsement for his gloves. One of the men look like a butch Boris Johnson. I feel odd.

21.17: The girls persuade themselves to go for the Splash screen. Also, Maria looks as if she has fallen asleep but I’m fairly certain it’s just the sheer weight of that eyeshadow weighing her eyelids down.

Truth be told, I’m glad they’re going for the Splash screen. It might come in useful for when the Killer Whale starts making waves..”YOU WERE INSENSITIVE TO MY FEELINGS.” Also, you could totally get some gin bottles in those pockets on the splash guard *thinking ahead*

21.19: The boys team have split, between Team Bin and Team Magic Hands (the name for the posh Marigolds.) Azhar claims to have checked and that there’s already a similar product in the market. It’s fairly clear he didn’t check, and if we’re being pedantic, I think the concept of bins is out there too. Ricky and Adam are sulking over their trumped-up Marigolds, as they feel Azhar is not emphasising with their feelings. Move on lads. Adam looks like a massive sulking albino tortoise.

Anyway, a bin and a shower curtain. HELLO ENTERPRISE.

Oh hang on, half of the girls are talking to an interior designer about their Tap Cosy idea, whilst the other half are creating the splash screen. What an omnishambles.

21.22: The prototypes have arrived and the boys looks like a small gay robot. I would assume it was an espresso machine rather than compost. I’m afraid that they’ve gone the similar way of last year’s product and forgotten we all have arms. Last years beach book holder, and this years binsquish, where we have HANDS which can push things down a bit. Austerity times etc

Splish Splash is a pile of crap. You would need several, otherwise the child could just splash AROUND it. It’s essentially a glorified whiteboard. Nowhere near efficient enough that I can fence a toddler into the bath. It’s essentially a death trap the child can draw a smiley face on. Ffs ladies.

21.23: The girls are on their way to pitch to Amazon and Jenna displays the maths that could lead her to becoming Chancellor of the Exchequer as she begins with “If they were to buy a million.” Austerity Britain weeps in the background

21.24: Jane has just pitched the million figure to Amazon and I no longer want to look at the screen. The man has just pointed out that these figures do not add up. Jane’s eyes get even wider until they engulf the world and life as we know it. She then refers them to her financial team, who look as if they recently discovered how to add beyond 10.

The girls can at least sit behind their invention while they’re being spat at when they’re homeless.

21.26: The boys are here. Duane is not allowed to speak, despite inventing the policy. Instead, Stephen does the dullest presentation in the world and I wish Jane’s eyes had swallowed the world. COOKING. SMELLS.

21.27: Nick just adopted the brace position, as he looks at Stephen with abject despair and sadness. Oh no.

21.28: The product already exists. This is just getting worse.

HANG ON. DUANE IS SAVING THE DAY. Everyone looks at him with gratitude. Nick comments on how Duane’s passion may have saved the day. Rather than Duane’s than Rickey’s.

It’d be weird if Amazon didn’t make any orders. Amazon stocks this ffs - http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/images/B001ETJ6XS/ref=dp_image_text_z_0?ie=UTF8&n=468292&s=kids

21.29: The girls are fighting. Minimum order quantities, and the wrong numbers still. Bore off. I wish everyone would use a phone normally and save us the earache.

They’re presenting to Lakeland, and Jade seems to have got confused along the way and now believes she is presenting to toddlers a splash guard for adults, as she carefully enunciates ‘Fun!’ and ‘Toy’. The man points out that these waterproof crayons will be used to draw on the bath, creating further mess. Everybody smiles politely but the look in their eyes gives the intent of drowning.

It’s disappointing that neither of these panels had a women on.

21.31: Duane is presenting to Lakeland this time. It’s going very well.

21.35: BOARDROOM TIME! Maria’s purple outfit is back, and offending the eyes. From now on she will be known as Purplegate.

Jane is a mother so she *knows*. Apparently.

Lord Sugar finds the million units thing astounding. Jane parrots the fact that she is a mother again. I don’t know why, Jane uses her son as a guilt trip. THE SON THAT MIGHT DROWN BEHIND HIS SPLISH SPLASH.

21.37:Mutiny amongst the ranks when the boys are asked if Azhar was a good team leader. Lord Sugar comments on the size and wonders if it is for vegetarian dwarves.
OH HA HA HA.

Nick proffers the suggestion that half the group felt like “the country cousins who haven’t been invited to the party.” I wish Nick was my country cousin. I could attend Countdown and ask him why they still don’t have enough seats in the boardroom.

21.39: Amazon ordered 7,500 Splaish Splashes, despite Karren describing herself as “cringing” throughout the presentation, and a smaller order of 3,000 Eco Presses. But Lakeland ordered no Splish Splashes and 10,000 Eco-Presses. The boys win again.

NO SPLISH SPLASH FOR YOU GLEN COCO. YOU DON’T GO GLEN COCO. :-(

Jane adopts the eyes of the saddest puppy in the world. Perhaps this is Stage 1 of them swallowing everything.

21.40: The boys have a private room at The Ivy. It looks disappointingly like the function room of a pub where your granddad would get pissed and fall into the sausage rolls.

The girls are in the Cafe of Sadness and Maria has just emptied all the sugar into her Styrofoam cup. I don’t know if this is maybe a stay awake tactic or to prepare her for warfare. I think the biggest problem was that they spent the whole episode bitching. Not a brilliant portrayal of women overall.

21.42: Jane claims it was an “entertainment centre and storage”…AND THEREIN LIES OUR PROBLEM.

She also seems to have missed the problem that the “serious issue” with the tap cosies, was not the variation in the size of taps but rather that nobody has ever thought they should adorn their taps with ANYTHING. I’m not my nan.

21.44: The shaky camera work at this point can be explained by the fact that the camera operators must have been in hysterics.

Jane has decided to bring Maria in because she didn’t do much, and fell asleep in the car. She then picks Katie, before changing her for Jenna, the honking goose of the North. Excellent leadership skills.

21.46: “Maria is a bit shouty. A very noisy young woman” says Nick. I’m unsure if he’s just referring to her eyeshadow with regard to noise.

Jane’s tactic is to bait Maria, and then pointing out she fell asleep. Excellent strategy.

21.50: Jenna is squawking about how NOT SHY she is. Her accent wouldn’t allow it. Everyone within 3 miles can hear her.

Maria’s blouse is a mesmerizing purple flounce

21.52: Jane points out that she was more upset about this task than when she spoke to her crying son last night. Perhaps she is appealing to Sugar’s famed lack of emotion. He remained stony-faced through the whole of The Boy in Striped Pyjamas.

21.53: Maria looks as if she’s about to give somebody her earrings to hold.

21.55: MARIA TO GO. So sad. Lord Sugar looks as if he wants to fire another but instead they’re allowed back to the house for more backstabbing hugs. Splish Splash is immediately picked up as a junior riot shield. Yay!