Comments from December 2008
December's comments
Comments on this month’s features and reviews
‘Hasn’t anybody ever told you a handful is enough?’, by Samara Ginsberg
From Carissa
i am responding to the article ‘hasn’t anybody told you a handful is
enough?’ because i thought it was brave and bold and honest and i
completely comend sandra for writing it. i cannot even believe the attitude
people had towards you for developing early and even more so the attitudes
of the people who were supposed to be looking out for you. i am so so very
sorry you had to go through that. there is so much more i would like to say
but i don’t know how or where to start. i’m really glad you wrote this
because this is definately an issue that is looked over way way too often.
From angry barbie
I sympathize with you, I had the same problem. As if being pretty gives
people the right to assault you. I suffered from incestuous sexual abuse
from many members of my family most of my life, and have been raped by
strangers just because of the way I look. Worse still, my I.Q. is over 140,
I feel unfulfilled even at thirty because I was only ever allowed to be a
sex toy for everyone else because I look like a porn star naturally. I
deeply resent the way society represents women, it’s destroyed my chances
of being seen not as an object, but as a human being. And I have been told
by other women that it is my fault I am constantly abused and harassed
because of the way I look. So now I don’t go out of the house much, never
on my own. Prejudice is never excusable, and can destroy lives.
From d.k. mccutchen
I appreciated Samara Ginsberg’s article “Handful is Enough.” I saw my
older sister going through something similar, and always felt lucky to be
less attractive, frankly. I fear for my girl-children growing up in the
midst of these damaging cultural stereotypes we’ve all been guilty of
perpetuating. Hopefully by processing these thoughts/reactions with our
kids, we can find a way to help them work through the pubescent fears and
jealousies and help them deal with inappropriate adults who don’t think at
all.
From Gerri in Iowa
I’m sorry for all that you’ve endured due to the screwed up views society
has. I have experienced a similar life. I can say it’s gotten better by 39,
but sheeze, half my life had to be over for that to happen.
I wish you the best, and think of it this way (I’m sure you already do)
you have more tools than most to MAKE it the best. At 25, make it
PHENOMENAL.
From John
thanks for raising my consciousness about this. no-one should be made
ashamed for they way their body looks, and I’m sad that you were. And yet,
clearly, its not just you thats made to feel this way. If all I can do is,
the next time I meet a woman with big breasts, think ‘well, thats a person
too’, and treat her accordingly, then I just hope that that is something.
From Stacey
thank
you! I am 24. I have had big breasts ever since I was 12 and went from
wearing vests and being completely flat chested to wearing a B cup in a
week. Since then I have continued to grow and am now a 34J (I’m also a size
20 so they fit in slighlty more with my figure now!). I think what people
(male and female) fail to realise is that big breasts are NOT as they
appear in Zoo/Nuts. My breasts have misshapen nipples (from growing so
fast), are fairly saggy already, are extremely heavy to carry around (they
weigh a stone by themselves) and have an inordinate number of stretchmarks
all over them. They also tend to get spotty because I have to wear a bra at
all times, except when in the shower. That is the reality of big breast,
not oiled up, perma tanned pieces of silicone. Real big boobs go under your
armpits when you lie down! For this reason one of my pet peeves is when
people tell me that they would love to swap breast sizes with me or when
people have tutted and told me “God, leave some for the rest of us!”.
Because you don’t want the realities of large breasts. Trust me. You do not
want to have to spend £30 every time you want to buy a bra because that’s
the cheapest that they make them. You don’t want permenant grooves in your
shoulders from your bra straps. You don’t want to not be able to feel the
bottoms of your breasts because they are so large that all the nerves are
damaged, broken and dead. And you certainly, in your mid twenties, don’t
want to be physically unable to stand up straight because of 12 years of
hunching over to hide your figure.
I was subject to the same harassment as your article writer, although to a
lesser degree because I went to an all-girls school. Still,I had to endure
sleazy comments from men everywhere I went outside of school, and was first
offered money for sexual acts involving my breasts at the tender age of 15
(when I was a size 10 and a 34 DD).
Im a fairly overweight woman (5’4 and 15 stone), I don’t wear make up
usually, nor have I ever been to a hairdresser. I seldom buy new shoes or
clothes. In short, I don’t care an awful lot about my appearance (I’m just
not that bothered). But it has been my dream, since I was 14 years old, to
be able to afford a breast reduction. And I personally think that is really
sad.
From Claire
Well I never got groped at school – though I did get a ‘are you holding
them up with your arms?’ when he saw me walking around school with my arms
crossed over my chest (familiar defensive body language I think). As well
as the usual toot toots from lorry drivers, but then they did that to all
us girls then, even the flat chested ones. This was in the early 1970s so
we were wearing mini-skirts so what did we expect, right? Also fashionable
in those days, skinny-rib jumpers and stretchy lace blouses! How unsuitable
for big boobs! Also bear in mind how difficult it was to get bras the right
size and suitable for a teenager rather than your grandma!
I really feel for the author of this piece. Being so tiny a 30E must seem
massive in comparison, at least I’m in proportion, almost, being a bit
plump, the 34GG boobs are big (huge) but the rest of me is curvy too.
The problems of having big boobs which some women envy (my sister said she
overheard a comment at the pool ‘not fair, is it’): the aforementioned
lack of decent bras, now thankfully overcome with the likes of the
fantastic Bravissimo (you are acquainted with Bravissimo, aren’t you?).
The pressure sores under the breasts if I don’t use copious amounts of
medicated talc. The unlikelihood of running for a bus without a sports bra
(don’t get me started on them, you end up with a mono-bosom wearing
non-wired bras). The assumption, at least if you’re under 30, of being
‘up for it’. Being addressed by males to the bosom, not the face. The
thoroughly awful embarrassment of being examined by an anaesthetist in
hospital (for removal of wisdom teeth!), not by his putting the stethoscope
under the gown, but by having me remove the clothing to the waist, and
seeing that ‘wow what huge knockers’ look flash between the doc and the
nurse. Like they couldn’t wait to get to the staff room to have a giggle
about my discomfort and had to do it there and then. Aaaggh!
Well the good news is, my big-breasted sisters, that when you get to
middle age you become invisible. I can vouch for that. Also, you may well
have a better idea of what flatters and what doesn’t. And more money to
spend on huge Panache bikinis rather than a £15 job from M&S.
From S
I definitely don’t think you are an airhead. Too insecure. As a person
with larger breasts and a younger age, I think its very brave that you are
prepared to talk about it.
However, as much as I’m agreeing with you-what kind of school did you go
to? I thought mine was bad.
Anyway, random spurge of words over. Please enjoy your boobs-they are
beautiful, I’m sure.
From Nicola
Thank you for your article. You have just described my adolescence to an
astonishing accuracy.
It saddens me to realise that others had such similar experiences, but it
feels so empowering to hear it explained so articulately. I have always
struggled to convey how isolating it was to be treated that way, not just
by adolescent boys and adult men, but by all my female peers, and even the
teachers I would have hoped would have intervened.
The experiences of being groped, assaulted (cornered, aged 13, by a naked,
masterbating 15-year-old, all the time referencing to the size of my
breasts), intimidated, leered at, hollered at every time I attempted any
sports, the unfounded gossip (and graffiti), the continual criticism and
comments about my body (I also repeatedly got ‘More than a handful is a
waste’ from an early age, also, ‘Breasts are just excess fat tissue you
know’), and so on … all combined to destroy my self worth and sense of
self between the ages of 12 and 15. My initial strategy of dressing
modestly (huge baggy jumpers and lots of layers) was so unsuccessful
(eating disorder and suicide attempt by age 14, again no-one appeared to
care) that I eventually discovered that becoming sexually agressive myself
– dressed in mini-skirts, high heels and make-up with faux-confident
put-downs and a sexy walk appeared to be enough to scare off the gropers,
leerers and gossips. Looking back, I am shocked that 14-year-old me had to
go to these lengths, against my natural personality, just because that was
the only way I could feel safe. Of course, none of my peers ‘got’ what I
was doing, I’m not sure I really did at the time.
Perhaps by exchanging our experiences we can help other young women in
similar situations feel less isolated, and possibly even help wider society
think about the judgements they make about appearances and what behaviour
is acceptable. At the very least this has helped me think about how this
issue has helped mould me into the person I am today.
From Mat
Samara, people say kids are cruel. But let’s face it adults can be just as
cruel. I guess I could go on about how sorry I am that people treated you –
that people treat anybody that way. Normally I have great respect for
teachers, but teachers who allowed that sort of behaviour to go on – or
actually participated in it – should be taken out back and shot.
But perhaps some attempt should be made to see a positive side to things.
You get to find out far more quickly than others whether a person is ok or
a jerk. At least for less cunning jerks anyway.
You sound like you’ve come through those days to become a woman with a
strong sense of self and the wisdom that it was all poor behaviour on the
part of others, rather than anything you had brought upon yourself. And
that is a good thing.
Don’t let the jerks get you down.
From Prodip Mitra
I thought my childhood was horrible, but now it seems nothing compared to
this story. Sympathies.
From Katherina
In the article “Hasn’t anybody ever told you a handful is enough?” you say
“I must say straight away that I am happy with the way I look. There are
things that I would change if it were easy to do so. I would like to have
longer limbs and yes, smaller breasts”.
First of all, if you are happy with the way you look then why do you want
to have longer limbs and smaller breasts? It seems a bit of a
contradictory thing to say.
Secondly, you’ve said that you still want smaller breasts but you haven’t
really specified why. Is it because of people’s comments? In that case
it’s not your body which needs to change – it’s other people who need to
grow up and stop making comments at you in the street. Is it because you
find it difficult to get clothes to fit? In that case, it’s not your body
which needs to change – it’s the fashion industry who need to change their
sizing policy.
I’m two sizes larger than you and wouldn’t change them for anything. And
to be honest, when I grew up I really got very few comments about it. It
seems to me that you live in a bad area where people aren’t taught that
harrassing people is wrong. But you can’t generalise the entire world.
From Larissa Perry
Re Samara Ginsberg’s essay “…a Handful is Enough”: it’s a common
experience of women with certain physical characteristics, eg blonde hair,
round bottom, etc, to become public property; the advertisers have enabled
that. I have a small body, looked after, useful, works pretty well, but it
has frequently elicited value judgements from other people, even strangers,
that make assumptions about my nature: “aren’t you so small and sweet”
(clearly doesn’t know me very well!); “…skinny bitch like you”
(affectionately, by a mature student on a women’s studies module); “you’re
just so little there’s nothing of you” (there’s plenty of me, thanks). I
was raised to never comment on people’s appearance as you don’t know if you
might offend, an old fashioned value with roots in liberty and tolerance.
From sarah
The thing i hate most about common media stereotyping of women is “the
real woman,” because models are often unhealthily skinny and thats now
supposed to be the fashionable size the media backlash is to say curvy
women are real women. An Australian size 14 is beautiful. My problem lies
in that i am a small woman with few curves, unlike in this article i have
fairly small breasts and often feel borderline androgynous. I hate that the
“real woman” is the media buzz word and its being deemed socially
acceptable.
On a side note I absolutely hate that the English version of the
television programme “how to look good naked” does not work with any women
with small breasts. period.
From Yarris
In response to Samara Ginsburg\’s article: Could you be any more
conceited? I hope you realize that you have an unconscious desire to equate
your large breasts with self-worth. You mention no fewer than 20 times in
your article that big breasts are \’enviable\’, \’ideal\’ and
\’attractive\’. Is that true, or is that what you want to think to feel
better than those flat chested women who bother you?
Get a life. Your piece is incredibly sexist and anti-feminist, and belongs
in Playboy rather than a prominent feminist site like the F-Word. It\’s a
conceited article that touts the virtues of your mammory glands, and does
nothing to further the cause of women who are legitimate victims of abuse.
Jess McCabe, editor of The F-Word, replies
I’ve included this comment because it highlights, for me, how far we have to go. We shouldn’t be ashamed of liking our own bodies; it’s not anti-feminist to state you like something about your physical self. Surely there’s enough pressure on women to feel bad about our appearances, without berating our sisters for daring to admit they like something about themselves? Isn’t the pressure to be constantly demure and play down anything good about ourselves part of the problem?
And that’s before we even get onto the ridiculous and damaging concept that being groped and sexually harassed isn’t “legitimate” abuse.
From Sandra
The piece about large breasts pulled at my heartstrings. Shame on the
teachers/friends/acquaintances who objectified you!
From Nancy
Samara Ginsberg- I just wanted to thank you for your article about your
breasts. It’s hard to believe this behavior is still going on today. I
was actually thinking things had changed since the 70’s when I was in High
School. Please don’t quit speaking. I think you were chosen to help
others. You’re not a bitch. You’re an angel.
From Bunny
Oh, how this resonated with me. As a 36G I know, very much, what you’ve
gone through. I’ve been sexually assaulted so many times; when I was in
school, out with friends, in the street and it really doesn’t make a
difference how I dress. When your breasts are this big, there are very few
ways to “dress them down”
Not that it should even be necessary, and I’m happy to say I’ve mostly
embraced my chest now. I experience fewer problems with unwanted attention
now than when I was 14. Which, whilst a relief for me, really just creeps
me out further.
From Amy Green
The boobie article was wonderful! I too suffered from a breast explosion
in middle school. All of a sudden boys started asking me if I liked to have
sex. I’d never even kissed anyone! I think its horrible that men are aloud
to influence what the world thinks. I’m pretty positive that if only women
inhabited the earth, that breast wouldn’t be anything more than what they
are to cows. Just a way to feed our babies.
Jess McCabe, editor of The F-Word, replies
Well, maybe not quite, Amy :-)
From Ruth Moss
I was lucky really that my breasts didn’t grow until my early twenties
(when they almost overnight went from B to F cup – then bigger again with
pregnancy) and as such did not experience the same kind of regular sexual
harassment as the author. I read some of the stories in this article with
absolute horror – some of the things described here about the author’s
teenage years are disgraceful! And surely if a teacher sexually harasses a
young teenage girl – isn’t that tantamount to paedophilia?
I loathe the way we sexualise breasts in our society. I think sometimes,
it’s easy to think it only affects those women whose breasts *don’t* fit
the “ideal”, whereas this article clearly shows it affects all women.
From Anon Male
Luckily, I never ‘groped’ in school, although I was guilty of starting.
My apologies to any woman who I made feel like this.
Great Article.
From Alexandra
I just read the article “Hasn’t anybody ever told you a handful is
enough?” by Samara Ginsberg, and I wanted to say I thought it was
absolutely marvelous. The reasons that women get attacked over, and
discriminated against aren’t limited to being over-weight or having small
breasts and it is hard to live in a world were we are judged on those
things at all. I have been overweight pretty much my entire life, and when
I finally started dating people were surprised because how could a “fat
girl” EVER get a boyfriend? It was unfathomable to the people I knew. I
hope everyday that people will change and that women will no longer be
judged on how they look, but I don’t hold out to much hope.
Thank you for this article, it meas a lot to me and gave me a little boost
today when I really need it.
From Meg
Really enjoyed this article. I had a similar experience and received
little support or sympathy from friends and family. Kudos to you for
putting it into words!! Thanks!
From tefelome
hear hear! i totally understand what you mean about possessing a “socially
desirable body” and being slated for it. i am skinny and a size 6 and have
been all my life, and gosh,the comments! even since i was a teenager,people
i didnt know in the street or at my school would feel it was ok to make
hurtful comments to me,and even though men made comments,it was the women
who were the worst. im happy in my body now, but im still aware of, mostly
womens,hostility towards me just because the way i look, but i just ignore
it now, its them who have the problem,not me! be strong and continue
ignoring these people,they have no right in attacking you this way!
From Flat in Detroit, USA
I am a feminist, and understand your poinIt. But as a woman who wears a
32A bra, I can tell you that the emotional response to large-breasted women
runs much deeper than one’s intellect. You, unfortunately, were dead-on
when you wrote that women would consider you to be bragging. My sister is a
30E and just spent the day shopping with me, “complaining” about her big
boobs. I just wanted to scream, “CRY ME A RIVER!!!” I won’t get into it
here. But you’re right. That line you wrote about us thinking women with
big breasts are smug about it is absolutely true. I didn’t know
large-breasted women knew that we flatties felt that way about them. And I
stare at them. Out of JEALOUSY that comes straight from my core. I always
wanted boobs. It so far hasn’t happened. I feel so ripped off every minute
of the day. My small breasts are the biggest tragedy of my life.
From Lydia von Berg
I just wanted to thank you for this article! I\’m a woman of similar
proportions, and I\’ve had very similar experiences to the things described
in this article. It was really helpful to read someone else\’s writing
about some of the things I\’ve thought about, but never really
materialized.
From Shannon
I watched my beautiful and still beloved first girlfriend endure a similar
experience to what Samara describes. She was a D cup in fifth grade when
most of the other girls were doing well if they were in training bras. She
was raised by a single, over-protective, father who told her she “would
have to be careful around men because the was different.” I wasn’t much
help, not because I was a groper, I wasn’t — either too well-bred or, more
likely, too terrified of a well-developed right hook. Still, once she and I
started dating, everyone assumed it was because of her cup size. She had to
endure scads of unwanted attention from men of all ages. I once, in a show
of completely unbelievable bravado, backed a full grown man into a wall
with a butterfly knife and threatened him with a “reduction” of another
kind if he didn’t quit staring. Ah youth! Still, I’m appalled at what my
girlfriend had to endure and wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone. Now, as a
middle school librarian, I see the same thing happen every day as
“early-bloomers” get harassed by piggish boys responding to the siren call
of mass media. I try to help these young ladies as much as I can with
encouraging words, but I have to be careful lest I be seen as a lecher
myself. I appreciate the article.
From Jessica Tollerfield
Your article makes total sense to me Samara. At school I was the first
girl to get breasts, and your experience of being harassed at school chimes
only too well with me. I too was held down on numerous occasions while my
classmates groped me, in full view of the teachers who just used to turn a
blind eye to it. On one occasion I was knocked out cold by the force of
being pushed over by tens of boys trying to ‘cop a feel’ – I was sent
home and nothing else was said, although the groping did stop after that.
With the benefit of hindsight, I cannot believe that my teachers did
nothing to intervene. What sort of hideous message does this send out to
young people, boys and girls alike?
Everything you have said rings true to my experience, I too have very
large breasts (I was nicknamed tits and ass at school – joy!) and face a
constant struggle for people to take me seriously. At the other end of the
spectrum I feel sick with nerves upon the arrival of hot weather because of
the comments and looks you get from total strangers who feel they have a
right to assess your body. I often avoid leaving the house on such days – I
get so tired with the constant rage I feel because six vans of workmen have
shouted ‘get your rat out’ to me in the space of 10 minutes. Grr!
From Sara E. Gold
In response to Samara Ginsberg’s article about how she’s been treated
because of her breast size: she writes that, “It’s the way that
mainstream, female, male and even feminist culture seems to conspire to
make me feel.” In my opinion, the fundamental problem here is the
assumption that “mainstream” and “culture” can be used in the same sentence
without one’s writing satire. The mass of the population thinks, for want
of a better word, with their gonads, and civilization has failed them, and
us, by creating a society that tolerates it. William F. Buckley Jr. once
said that civilization is a desperate attempt to dehumanize us before we
destroy ourselves. The problem should not be Ms. Ginsberg’s unless she
accepts it as hers. Her other choice is to deal with a very small subset of
the population that is actually capable of thought and respect, and
deserves the same in return. I wish her the best of the season and hope —
always hope! — for a better future. (You may publish my comment but please
do not publish or otherwise distribute my e-mail address. Thank you.)
From Anne Olson
Being a petite woman with large breasts seems to equate to being an idiot.
No I did not transfer brain cells to my chest, although this is a common
misconception. The large breasted sisters in the media, real or augmented,
Pamela Anderson for example, play up this image and do themselves and us a
disservice.
From ella
I’m responding to a feature called ‘isn’t a handful enough’, I also have
had large breasts which are a 32f or ff (depending on whether my weight
changes) and I’ve had pure hell with them since I was 12. When I gained
a lot of weight when I was younger they grew to a 32gg and the comments were
almost unbearable, I’m now 17 and I’ve taken control of my life and decided
to have a breast reduction for my own personal comfort (they ache whenever
I take off my bra) overall I’m glad that I’ve read that feature as it makes
me feel comforted by the fact that someone else has had the same
experience.
From Sue Sheppard
I thought the article on having large breasts and the problems with others
reactions was great. I went through a similar experience in the 1960s when
all teenage girls were supposed to look like Twiggy. Its tough,
particularly when my mother would not let me wear a bra although I was a
size 36D.
Its very sad that girls and women are still going through this experience.
Its one thing that we feminists failed to change.
From C
I have a very similar figure, 5 feet 2 inches, and a 30-E bra size, and I
was teased mercilessly through school. I was never groped, and my
proportions were never remarked on by my teacher, but I went to a private
school, and that probably made a huge difference. I was teased mercilessly
after school on the buss though, by one person who made lewd remarks, and
insisted I was wearing a waterbra, and that I had to show him to disprove
it. I never did, but I had to put up with this abuse for a year, and nobody
cared. The other kids on the crowded bus, the teachers, the principal,
nobody really cared. I started wearing baggy clothes, that made me look
like a sack of potatoes, and got less comments. I thought, ‘it’s the price
I have to pay for looking like a freak’. Now, at 18, I have had the
priviledge of knowing someone who helped me with my body image enough that
I can finally wear clothes that fit my form in the least, or that show even
a hint of cleavage. I owe them the confidence I have today. The only thing
I still resent is bra shopping, and thankfully I’ve found a little place
where the manager understands, and I can get a decent bra.
From Liz
I have been on both ends of the body issue. I have had both the size 2
semi-busty body of a model; and I have had the very overweight – possibly
verging on obese body of the butt of jokes.
The treatment seems to be the same on both ends of the scale, pun
unintended.
With the commercial view of how our bodies “should” look, it seems that
women who actually do have that body are reviled by those who are either
jealous orindignant.
Women who are in the pleasingly plump category are faced with “how could
you let yourself go like that” or “man the harpoons”
The truly sad thing is that the women who are not overweight and who are
not exceedingly well proportioned seem to be ignored.
So, very ‘stacked’ women and very ‘fat’ women are taking the front-lines
(to use a military analogy) while the Average Annies are all in the
trenches being overlooked.
I’ve received my share of melon awards; I’ve also been held down by
several boys at school to be groped – with the added addition of their
discovery of an erogenous zone in my neck (which was news to me).
None of my friends would help me. Finally, a TA came in and broke it up
(although if he hadn’t been dating me, he might have just taken a number.
The frustrating thing is that there are so few ethical ways to show these
people the way they are making these girls and women feel.
I live in the United States; but the issues are just the same here.
From Mysti
Thank you so much for writing this article. While I may not be a size 6
(I’m a 14), I am still a 21 year-old young woman with size 38 E breasts,
and I am 5′ 1/2″. I am constantly aware of people staring down my shirt
whether I like it or not. It is a common saying that I “would have
cleavage in a turtleneck.” I also have endured the groping and the notion
that my breasts are not my own. For the first time in my life, I have met a
gentleman who knows that they are a part of me… not who I am, and it is
the most refreshing thing that I could ask for.
From Mare Martell Stotler
When I try to explain why I got a breast reduction done when I was 24
years old, people thought I was being silly. I am now 40 and have never
looked back with regret on my decision.
I completely and absolutely agreed with the way it feels to be the “girl
with the huge tits.” Girls and women looked at me like I was a slut. Men
looked at me like I was lunch. It was all about my boobs, and nothing about
me. I was broken and hated my body.
I was glad to see them gone. I was glad to not have to buy special
clothing anymore. I was glad to not have gouges in my shoulders from the
bra straps. I was relieved to wear a bathing suit I didn’t spill out of at
the most inopportune moments. I was thrilled I could see my dang feet.
Never looked back with regret on the greatest choice I’d ever made for my
self-esteem, self-respect, self-image, and dang it…I love myself now
(physically, and emotionally)
From Hannah Nicole Simpson
I just wanted to write a response to Samara Ginsberg’s article about her
breasts. It was wonderfully written, and made my eyes teary. I would like
to proffer a hug or a cake, but at this distance all I can give are
compliments and thanks for this illuminating piece of writing.
From Demi Hungerford
Ms. Ginsberg won my heart mentioning that she felt her experiences were on
a par with fat women. So much of what she experienced is similar to my
life, overweight since the age of 8. However, I never did get to a point
where I was okay with my body until I met a man who taught me my humor and
intelligence were sexy. I’m still carrying too much weight but working on
it and not because I want to get a male companion, but because I want to
live somewhat longer than average. Other women who used to sneer at me for
my weight now look at me in confusion because I am so comfortable with who
I am. Men who never bothered to talk to me seem to find time to chat, and
it’s my choice whether to carry on the conversation or not. I wish I had
all this cool 40 years ago!
From Katie Halverson
In response to the story “Hasn’t anybody told you a handful is
enough?”…. I felt it was a wonderful article. I was always the “flat
chested girl” in school. I got teased for it. Guys actually called me
“flat chested girl” rather than by my name. Then after having my kids, I
now have quite large breasts. Now even my husband’s friends stare and make
comments about them. His own mother makes comments about how large they
are. I have never had this kind of attention before. At first I thought I
liked it, but then realized “Hey, I am more than my breasts!” This article
very well shows that due to our societies views on how a woman’s body
should look, women of all sizes are being treated unfairly. I hope more
women and men read this article so they can see just how unfair it is to
treat “hot-bodied women” as objects. Or to treat them as if they are
stupid or bitches just because they have the body most women would kill
for.
From Jessica
I want to say thank you for writing this. I’m definitely not a size 22
waist, nor have I been groped in the hallway, but as a 38H cup, I know the
feeling of limited dressing, being perceived in a very particular way based
simply on curves and on lecherous stares. Thank you for writing this, it’s
always nice to hear personal things being said aloud (and more eloquently
than I am capable of)!
From A different Helen
As someone with breasts at the other extreme of the size spectrum, it was
interesting to read Samara Ginsberg’s experiences of having a voluptuous
figure. I have to say that I have never been bothered about being
flat-chested, and this is probably because my figure (or lack of it) is
hardly ever commented on, which considering Samara’s experiences, seems
weird. The only disparaging comment I have ever received from a male (to my
face at any rate) was at the age of 12, when a rather rude French boy
gesticulated to make it clear that I was wanting in the breast department.
I do get the occasional comment or stare from women though, but even then
its very rare. Of course I also have never had men queueing up to go out
with me either, but as a young woman it always surprised me how much
attention I did get, considering my obvious deficiency. My daughter is now
15 and is also rather flat-chested. I tell her to regard it as a blessing,
since it means she’ll get men who love her for her, rather than for the
size of her breasts. I tell her this to cheer her up and boost her
confidence mainly, but reading Samara’s article, there’s maybe more truth
in it than I thought.
From Georgie
I think you are completely right. Some women may think that it is stupid,
but I have those exact same problems. It’s silly to steriotype people for
the way they look. People should just get over their jelousy and predjudice
opinions and see people for who they really are.
From Patti H
Bravo to you!!! I fear for my fifteen year-old daughter who is in the same
predicament. Extremely well endowed, smartest in her honors math class,
sweet, shy, never wears make-up, never swears, goes to scripture study
every morning, abhors drugs. She already resorts to wearing over-sized
clothes to cover-up. One good thing about living in the states, sexual
harassment in schools and the workplace is forbidden. People get sued.
Students get expelled. Still the ugliness of negative perception still
comes through.
From Ruth
More people need to hear your story. I’m so sorry about what you’ve been
though, I’m *very* glad things got better. And I identify with the parts
were you say you cringed at writing you were good looking, just like me
thinking as I look in the mirror “hey! I’m pretty! My eyes go with my
gorgeous red hair!” And a part of you his horrified and tell you not to be
such a vain bitch.
From Rachael
Thanks so much Samara for highlighting the sexism that attractive women
face. For my part: I am 5ft 9in, long legs, big tits and pretty…..and I
may as well be the spawn of all evil!!!
Women critisize me, or talk down to me…I actually had to tell off a
woman who kept telling me to “shut up – what problems do you have” in front
of five other people!!
I have had “feminists” say with obvious bile “Why do YOU need feminism?”
And constant physical and emotional sexual harrassment from men since I
was very young, like you. In fact if you hadn’t done so – I was about to
write an article entitled “We all hate beautiful women”!!! Thanks so much
again!
From JENNIFER DREW
Spot-on Samara – it is the classic male-centered stance which puts all
women into different boxes and encourages nay, praises women who do men’s
work for them. Women who presume a woman who has large breasts must be
sexually insatiable, immoral etc. etc. is reinforcing patriarchy’s
domination and control over all women.
Likewise any woman unfortunate to be born with what men think is female
physical beauty are assumed to not have any intelligence whatsoever because
their sole attributes reside in their physical appearance. It is in a
nutshell misogoynistic attitudes and behaviour. No, men are not confined
to little boxes with regards to their physical attributes because we do not
call men ‘air heads’ if they happen to be physically attractive. Instead
they are perceived as capitalising on their ‘assets’.
Patriarchy is a very clever system of keeping women oppressed and
subordinate to men because as long as we believe these male-defined myths
concerning female physical bodies then we are effectively upholding and
maintaining male power and control over women. See the woman not her body
– and it might just surprise you.
Male sexual harasment of females beings at school and it is still widely
condoned and justified because ‘boys will be boys.’ Likewise many girls
call other girls sexually insulting names because these girls wrongly
believe they will gain male praise and support. Little do they realise
they in turn can easily be called sexually insulting names by the boys –
because no female is free from male sexual harassment.
Look beyond the misogynistic stereotypes and see the real person – not
just their disembodied body parts. Do we look at males and say – he must
be an airhead because his body part conforms to a stereotype. No we do
not.
From Clare
Thank you for writing this! I belong to the tall and large breasted
category and since the age of 14 I have had constant comments and
inappropriate behaviour from adult men. People do seem to confuse having
breasts which are physical features with breasts being sexual features. So
if you’re physically well-developed then you must be sexually
active/available/etc. Society needs to stop attributing value or worth to
different body shapes and celebrate all bodies and the people in them,
instead of perpetuating ignorant and crass stereotypes.
From Lynsey
I’ve always thought stunning women must have it hard. I am average looking
and like being invisible with the very occasional stare. On occasion I’ve
gone out with above-average looking friends, and men really do leer. I
would hate to have that sort of attention all the time.
From JC Metheringham
I read Samara Ginsberg’s article about having big breasts with horror.
I’m a UK size 10, and like Samara, I’m 5’2″ and have E cup breasts. I
recognise all of what she says about the small, subtle assumptions other
people make on meeting me for the first time. It’s a real effort to find
clothes which don’t make me look either waist-less or like a glamour
model.
I consider myself very lucky that I had to put up with only a small part
of what she describes as her school days. This is only, and I repeat only,
because I had the muscles to match. The boys in my secondary school class
stopped groping me after the first month when I gave a boy two years older
than me a black eye, badly twisted a classmate’s ear and threw another
classmate off my lap and on to the floor.
As a general rule, I haven’t been harassed much by strangers, despite my
figure. Why? Because I was a teenage goth, and few idiots ask someone
wearing that many spikes to fuck them. And I now wear a suit, and no fool
makes comments to someone who looks as if they would sue them. The times I
have been whistled at? I’m always wearing non-threatening, non-powerful,
non-important jeans. It’s a shame that my ability to be left in peace is
down to how powerful I look.
Rose Gnap
I completely empathise with Samara’s situation. At my largest I was a 36K
and even after losing a stone and am down to a 34/36J, I still don’t see
much of a change in reaction. I feel like my breasts are so much smaller
losing 2 cup sizes but it only takes one ill-judged comment and I feel like
I’m carrying around baby elephants again. Unfortunately, social etiquette
in the modern world seems to allow the ideal of “being up front and not 2
faced” to actually mean – “say everything you think of, as and when you
think of it”. It’s as though people forget about basic common courtesy and
politeness. I wouldn’t dream of going up to someone who was 6’7″ in a pub
and commenting on his height. Why would I?! It’s irrelevant and he doesn’t
need to be told what he has to live with 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. I
feel as though when someone mentions my breasts, my personality loses all
its validity. There is a time and a place for comments about chest size and
unfortunately people do not seem to be able to judge this correctly. It
would be nice to be just Rosie once in a while and not always Rosie (with
the boobs).
From Sara A
In response to “Hasn’t anybody ever told you a handful is enough?”—yep,
I get it. When I was young and shy and “cute,” I got lots of unwanted
attention. Now that I’m middle-aged, I’m invisible, or else people seem to
think I’ll be absurdly grateful for any attention at all. None of that has
a thing to do with anything I did or said or was.
From jhoolya
I wish to thank Sarah Ginsberg for her article “…a handful is enough”.
I too suffered from this syndrome where I was judged, insulted, degraded
and molested because of the size of my breasts. It wasn’t enough that
clothes, school uniform and swimming costumes didnt fit, that I either
looked like I was dressed in my grandmothers clothes, or I was a blatant
slut, flaunting it for all to see. It was the unwanted attention.
Teachers stared, boys groped, girls laughed, male “family friends” tried it
on, and men in the street called out rude comments as if it was their
right. Although I am almost twice Sarah’s age, a friend recently told me
that she always “hated women with big breasts…because they were out to
steal your husband”. I hadn’t known that she considered me a prospective
adulterer because of my mammary glands. Such sweeping generalisations are
sad and demoralising. Besides the women her husband ran off with were all
small breasted. Thank you Sarah for bringing this out in the open, and
reminding one and all that large breasted doesn’t mean small brained.
From Gráinne Tobin
I was really interested in tha article about women being blamed for their
breasts. think Samara is right that the problem is to do with the idea that
women’s individual bodies are everyone else’s to comment on. I too have big
breasts, and as she says, they just came with my body and I don’t usually
notice them. At the school where I work, a visiting father ridiculed them
in front of a twelve-year-old girl I was with, and I was so horrified I
could not really retaliate as I would have wished, but because I worried
that the child had been put in her place as a female, by seeing me made to
look so powerless, I did make an official complaint and the man was
immediately banned from coming into our building or volunteering to ‘help’
our students. Girls need all the back-up they can get with this sort of
thing. I also think it is true that some women can be less than helpful to
each other about issues like this, unfortunately.
From Joni
Thank you for sharing this article. It has
given voice to some things I’ve felt, but not really articulated, for
years.
There is a woman in my social group who is universally liked, and justly
so. She’s intelligent, funny and generally enjoyable to be around.
I cannot stand her, and have always felt bad for it. I’ve never admitted
this dislike to my friends, because to tell them that I dislike her for
repeatedly making “more than a mouthful is wasted” comments in my presence
would make me seem insecure and petty in their eyes.
I have shared this article with many of my friends, and perhaps I’ll pluck
up the courage to be honest with them, after they’ve read it.
From Amy A
I just wanted to say about Samara Ginsberg’s article that the problem is
how our culture puts so much value on women’s looks over any other
characteristic. People idolize only certain body types and that is rubbed
in our faces so much that we end up feeling resentment for those who have
the so-called ideal body. I used to get the same kind of comments mostly
from women when I was very thin. In a way I don’t blame the women who said
these things because I know that women are constantly told they have to be
thin to be worthy, and seeing someone who actually fits the ideal is just a
reminder of your so-called failures or flaws. What we need to do is stop
letting people pit us against each other.
From gem
Samara Ginsberg article – a million thankyous for making me feel more
‘normal’ – a sorry state of affairs that i hanker after something to make
me feel normal but hey ho. (!) At the risk of blowing my own trumpet, which
God forbid one should never do (tee hee), i too understand your annoyance
at having the baps women want/hate (in equal measure) and men also want but
would be reluctant to consider you ‘meeting the mother’ material. I still
feel sad that when i visit the area i grew up in (which is rather rough
round the edges) to see my lovely mommy (big boobed, incidentally) that i
purposely and consciously make myself appear as ‘ugly’ and as
unapproachable as possible as the attention i receive when looking even
half way shaggable is simply disturbing and on occasion terrifying. And
yes, including being brazenly molested in broad daylight in the street. I
spend as much time and effort trying to look crap on those occasions as i
do when i’m actually going out and trying to look nice! ridiculous and
infuriating that i have to. As for becoming more comfortable with my self,
getting there i spose!??
From K.D.
I am responding to the article about breast size. I completely and utterly
agree with the author! I would love to pass this on to anyone who mentions
wanting bigger breasts….it really nails how I feel about my mammories! I
grew up with a Grandma who had very large ‘Dolly Parton’ breasts and always
knew how painful and annoying she felt they were, and then experienced the
same kind of harassment when I started to develop. What I actually found
more disturbing was when my two younger sisters started growing
breasts….they both ended up with larger breasts than I did as teenagers,
and the amount of times we would be out and about and have anything from
other teenage boys to grown men, feel the need to make some lewd suggestive
comment about my little sister’s breasts was unbelievable. I would always
stand up for them and tell the men where to go.
It IS totally ridiculous to be categorized by the size of your breasts. I
have found (being Australian) thatn men are actually alot more ‘breast
obsessed’ in the UK than in Oz—the fact that Page 3 models still exist
over here really does set the tone for how men in the UK feel that breasts
belong to them, and are there for their viewing pleasure. I actually hate
wearing anything that gives me cleavage, as I do feel as though I am then
asking for men to stare (and other women to snort in derision). I am only a
34B/C (I am a speed skater in a roller derby team so mine have shrunk due
to excercise!), so luckily I don’t have to worry so much anymore, but I
completely understand the author’s predicament, and want to send her my
congratulations for being so brazen as to complain about her ‘perfect’ (if
you want to be treated like a porn star) body!
From Camilla
Thank you for your honesty. I too, am an E-F cup and understand all too
well. I hit puberty at age 10 and was a large C by age 12, which turned me
into a sex object for pervy old men and cruel young boys alike. Unlike
yourself, my low self esteem (which was masked by an outgoing personality
and intellectual maturity) morphed into embracing my new identity as a
sexual object at 12 years old.
I felt that it was because I was ‘a woman’, that my parents were trying to
baby me because they didn’t want me to be ‘fuckable’. Having been taught at
school that girls wanted to be virgins and boys wanted sex, I couldn’t
understand why I had all of these urges. I didn’t understand puberty, all I
knew was that having breasts and being developed defined me so I ran with
it.
Harassment and assault followed for many years, and I remember the
conflicting waves of pulsating hormones, shame, thrills and fear under the
gaze of salivating wolves whenever I left home.
I think one of the reasons I am a feminist is because I know what it feels
like to feel violated and internalise and normalize that because I am a
woman. Sometimes I look back and I wish I had loved myself more, that I
hadn’t been on my knees giving blowjobs in public toilets in pigtails, or
fucked mean little boys who I knew didn’t like me, or thought that
teachers/uncles and other old men trying to rape me was a compliment.
But having those experiences has made me wiser and smarter. It has made
me a compassionate and good woman who questions everything and stands up
for other people and myself. These days I don’t need to be a steak in the
lion’s den to feel attractive and valuable. When I have sex it’s empowering
because I own my body and my sexuality. I can love men who love me back,
not because I want to punish need approval. I hope you find the confidence
I have, and all my best to you my busty comrade.
From Kristen
I do not think you are an airhead. I think you are a brave, intelligent
woman who has put up with more than anyone should ever have to. I’m another
one blessed (cursed?) with large breasts, but I was much luckier. With the
exception of one rumor in gradeschool, I had kind enough classmates to not
make fun of me to my face (or at all, to my knowledge). Your article
touched me, and I wish all women that want bigger breasts would read it.
From Cate
Samara – I too am a size 6 with 30e breasts. Reading your article was like
reading about my experiences growing up, and still I was shocked! Unlike
you though, I was a c cup until I was 15 when I grew to an E within a few
months. Before long the rumours were spreading about how I was a slut and
as I had lots of male friends, of course I was ‘sleeping with all of them.’
Your stories about being groped by boys at school also sounded familiar to
me – even now I avoid walking past the local secondary school around
hometime because of all those walks home with schoolboys scoring points for
who could grope me for the longest. In fact, it was after one particularly
horrible time this happened that became a feminist; I was just so angry
that so many young boys thought that it was acceptable to treat girls/women
like this. I would also like to add how sad I was to read that, given an
easy option, you would want to have smaller breasts. PLease remember that
size 6 women with small breasts have their own problems, eg. everyone
thinks you have an eating disorder.
Now That’s What I Call Misogyny!, by Molly Lavender
From Hannah
I received a marketing e-mail the other day from Sony BMG suggesting
Christmas gifts. I can’t remember how I ended up being on the mailing list
but I’m a huge fan and quite keen on hearing news and new releases so it
would have been off the back of one of those CD inlays a while ago that I
filled out and sent in.
This particular e-mail irked me for a couple of reasons. Firstly, there
were sections titled “Gifts For Him”, “Gifts for Mum” and “Gifts for Dad”,
but there was no “Gifts for Her” section. Do they not think women would
like to receive music as a Christmas gift?
Their suggestions for “Gifts For Him” were largely ‘trendy’ chart indie or
rock artists. Mums like Il Divo, Celine Dion and three priests singing
religious classics, while Dads like “the gift of rock” – AC/DC and The
Clash are suggested.
To me, it doesn’t seem relevant or necessary to add the different
“sections”; if there are certain releases they want to promote or think
would be suitable, I’m sure we’re all capable of deciding who would like
that gift. Incidentally my mum can’t stand any of the artists suggested to
her.
This e-mail does explain why every year my brothers get sent money or
vouchers to buy what they wish and I end up with cosmetics or perfume from
estranged, clueless relatives. I’m still considering e-mailing Sony BMG for
an explanation.
From Shaziya niamh
I thoroughly enjoyed Mollys article on music and misogyny. I myself am
hugely into ounk and hardcore music but you can see the mouths wide open at
these gigs when people realize your not a girlfriend or groupie your just
here to watch the band or take photographs (which is part of what I do) The
stuff out in the popular domain that women are supposed to like tends to be
pretty generic almost like our little ears cant cope with anything hard or
fast which is a shame because the feeling you get from seeing a great band
live is something that more women should experience. I’m not saying to
completely step out of thier comfort zone but who’s to say that rock is for
guys and pop is for girls.
My friend and I went to see Gorilla Biscuits last year and went to a club
afterwards in camden we were the only two on the dance floor and they just
happened to be playing our favourite tracks. The promoter later wrote a
blog on myspace that said thanks to the two girls who came to listen to
Interpol but ended up listening to jr ewing. i felt a strong need to
comment and put the guy in his place. It sucks that rock music is still
sexist but hopefully we can change that. Twas a good read!
From Nina
Your article “Now That’s What I Call Misogyny!” was my first contact
with your site. Excellent stuff! I will be returning to this site, although
frankly I find it depressing that there is such a strong need to state the
obvious and to have sites like yours. Equality should go without saying.
Thanks so much and keep up the good work!
From zak jane keir
Spot on! Bleeding Love is an appalling song: the first time I heard it I
said to a mate: so are they really going to release a song about glorifying
domestic violence?
From Allison
Thank you, Molly Lavender, for your insightful article on gender
segregation in pop music. I appreciated your ire at the cds for mom and
dad, and the placement of music mags in stores (which I agree is pretty
damned offensive). I’m writing my PhD thesis on feminist issues and pop
music. It is dismaying the way that music by women gets labeled again and
again (by critics and the publishers of this music) as self-involved,
obsessive, pathological, soft, inevitably about love rather than politics,
full of confessional revelations rather than universal truths. Music by men
(and “for men”), in contrast, is often seen as powerful, political, strong.
Power to you for being critical of categorization. Power to you also for
making music!
From Lyndsey
I take your point about rock music being pushed as a boys-only club. Just
look at music games such as Guitar Hero and Rock Band, which feature a
pitiful number of female artists for people to play along too. I can only
presume this is because the game-makers are under the impressions that few
women play these games and that men don’t want to cover songs produced by
women. ‘Female’ is not a genre, and neither is ‘male’!
From Rose
I thoroughly enjoyed your article, but I have a couple of points to make:
you make the (correct) claim that women in bands are often bass players,
and this is due to the belief that bass is an easier instrument to play.
But you then admit that bass is far more difficult to master than a guitar!
Surely the sidelining of bass and female bass players is related to the
simplistic nature of many bass lines, due to the privileging of guitar over
bass in most rock music. Nobody is going to dismiss Bootsy Collins as a
poor musician who couldn’t hack it as a guitarist; this is because the
genres he plays, funk and r&b, place a great deal more emphasis on bass
lines. In this way, women as bass players are allowed to be involved in
rock music, but not lead it.
Secondly, any instrument is as easy or as hard as you make it. You can
play Chopsticks on piano; you can play Chopin. It all depends on how
prominent the instrument’s contribution to a song is. The fact is, bass
gets underused, and that is why it is considered to be an “easy”
instrument.
From Tori
I’ve been aware of this Site for a few years now and wish I had more time
to read all of it. In regards to the ‘Now that’s what I call Mysogyny’
article it is disgruntling and yet so hackneyed that we are still having to
deal with these issues. I would have written something very similar about
ten years ago while I was still moshing in my DMs. Oh well, here’s to
hoping we can maybe one day overthrow Commercialism. Tori Lawson
From My name is Jose
Good article indeed but the sub editors seem to have phasers set permantly
to ‘kill’ on here, with regards to us blokes. The news stand point you
brought up is something that certainly never occured to me before, I’ll
have a good look around next time I’m in WHS. One thing I’ve noticed from
my own experience ( played saxophone and now do various sampler/synth stuff
) is that there’s a hell of a lot more girls/women playing classical music
than you do see on the indie/rock circuit. I just wonder if there’s an
element of peer pressure at play here, because it does seem more
‘respectable’ for a girl to play with more traditional sober musicans than
to be hanging around with a bunch of rough-arse smelly blokes.
Jess McCabe, editor of The F-Word, replies
I’m not sure what makes you think that, MNIJ – Molly’s article is about the cultural pressures on girls and women.
From Hayley/DJ Moonlight
I just want to thank Molly Lavender for her very thought provoking
article. I am in complete agreeance with everything she says.
Some of what she wrote about, are some of the reasons I do an internet
radio show only for female fronted or all female music. The majority of
what I play is rock based and it is defintely mainly females that listen
from what I understand.
I hope to promote through it that females rock just as hard as males, and
get the female bands that don’t normally get any attention some airplay and
hopefully new fans! if you ever want to check it out, its on www.mtjr.co.uk
on sundays 5-7pm
I agree about music magazines too, if you actually look inside most of
them as well, they are very sexist, especially mags like Kerrang and metal
hammer.
From JENNIFER DREW
The article ‘Now That’s What I Call Misogyny analyses very succinctly the
extent to which women, girls, men and boys are bombarded with misogynstic
messages. The messages are always the same – being female means all women
and girls should devote their lives to serving male needs. Women are not
supposed to have any needs or desires because this is ‘selfish.’ Instead
they should always be ‘selfless’ even when they are abused by violent
misogynistic males.
Popular culture is the easiest way to maintain the status quo because it
is seen as ‘common sense.’ However, it is very easy to learn media
literacy and critique the innumerable messages pop culture sends women,
girls, boys and men. Unless we become media literate we cannot see the
endless ways patriarchal propaganda is being promoted as ‘just common
sense.’
Popular music is a very effective way of maintaining male power and female
oppression. The article provides excellent examples of how this operates
and whilst there is no ‘individual male conspiracy’ there most certainly is
a group one – because we need to ask who benefits by ensuring women’s
subordination continues. Is it women or is it men? Linked in with this
are the immense profits being made at the expense of ensuring women and
girls remain in a constant state of insecurity and worry, because too many
women and girls are not adhering to male supremacist notions of ‘feminine
behaviour and myths.’
From Janna Rose
I wanted to write and tell you job well done–I enjoyed your insights on
the misogyny of pop songs. I wish all women (and men) would question their
work places, their fields of interest, and popular culture according to
your terms. As a 30 year old, I am often upset by pop songs that teach my
4 year old daughter to equate hurt with love. At other times, though I
find some pop songs interesting–such as Beyonce’s If I were a Boy. What
do you think of that song? Also…I don’t really think of Madonna as pop,
as I find her music somehow empowering. What do you think of her? I am
just curious to know. I am American, if you can’t tell, and I have much
more expericence with Britney and the likes than I care to admit.
From K.D.
I grew up in a great era of
women’s rock music in Australia, bands like Spiderbait, Magic Dirt, Def
FX….there were so many women in rock music that I really didn’t think
anything of it. What I find bizarre nowadays, is the obsession with ‘women
in rock’ as if they are some kind of ‘genre’. It’s always assumed that they
are singing about ‘women’s stuff’ and asked about how they feel about being
a ‘woman’ in the music industry. I mean really, why is this an issue?!
Women were revolutionary in the 60’s for crying out loud—performing and
(gasp!) WRITING their own songs…..why is it STILL a ‘thing’ about being a
woman in rock music? In some ways it’s great that women can speak about
women’s issues, but it’s only really asked about in the ‘rock’ genre. ie:
No one asks Leona Lewis what it’s like being a woman in pop music. And
alternately, no one ever asks a man what it’s like being a man in rock
music.
From Lucy Gollogly
I couldn’t agree more with Molly’s analysis of Leona Lewis’s ‘Bleeding
Love’. The lyrics are indeed disturbing and feed into the idea of women as
masochistic, helpless and willing to endure anything for ‘love’.
From Rachel
I have a few minor comments on this article, which may or not be all that
relevant but I feel the need to share!
Firstly – I understand the author’s frustration with music mags being
placed in the men’s section in shops, and I feel that too, but I’d just
like to point out that the majority of bike mags do not have pictures of
scantily clad women on the cover. At least, not the ones that contain a
good standard of writing and journalism. I realise that’s a petty argument,
but I didn’t like to see my beloved Bike magazine tarred with that brush!
Secondly, as a woman who is absolutely fanatical and anal about all sorts
of music I probably don’t have the eyes of an impartial bystander, but in
the musical circles I am part of I almost never experience overt sexism.
True – the majority of gig-goers and musicians are male, but the balance is
not nearly as skewed as it is in mainstream music. I do see the imbalance
though.
As for pop lyrics, in my teens I would often latch onto lyrics similar to
those dissected in the article to justify sticking with partners when with
hindsight I really should have kicked them to the curb. The influence pop
songs can have on people really shouldn’t be underestimated.
Choice and disability, by Victoria Al-Sharqi
From Ceri
In response to Choice and disability by Victoria Al-Sharqi:
I am absolutely humbled by the courage and integrity that Victoria has
shown. In a society which deems most forms of natural genetic mutation as
‘defects’ and ‘disabilities’, Victoria has achieved an amazing sense of
self-acceptance that most of us don’t have the strength for, whether
‘disabled’ or not. I often grumble about having to conform, but really, her
battle is much harder than mine and as far as I am concerned, she has won
it. ‘Disability’ itself is a negative word and with it come totally
negative associations. Our society is a shambles in many ways, but in it’s
accomodation of biological change it’s truly ghastly. Victoria, your
article demonstrates that you are a pillar of strength in a way that most
feminists can only aspire to. Although I am pro-choice, I totally disagree
that a child should be aborted on the grounds of ‘disability’.
From Anonymous
I read with interest the quotes from Susan Senator and “Jen” regarding
prenatal testing and disability.
I have a handicapped son of 34 who is severely autistic. He needs 24
hour supervision and lives in special accommodation. I have two other
children of 30 and 29.
Knowing what I know now and what his life has been like – in fact what all
our lives have been like because if this, if there had been prenatal
testing and I had found out was to come, I would have had an abortion
before he was born. I would have felt very sad and unhappy to have done it
but I would have done it.
I know that this sounds very brutal but it is the truth. Before the
autism took full hold when he was a tiny baby he was lovely but it was
obvious that there was something wrong. I have not seen him for 25 years
but know what his situation is. I still love him very much and miss him.
It’s impossible to explain everything in such a small space as it was all
very complicated.
To add to the complications I am now handicapped myself due to autoimmune
disease and if I had not let him go as a child I would have had to let him
go now.
What is the point of it all?
From Nem
The article on choice and disability was really fascinating. I live with
adults with learning difficulties and physical disabilities and it’s made
me reconsider a lot of things. Thank you for allowing space for such issues
to be raised.
From Nick McGivney
Victoria Al-Sharqi – the Choice and Disability article was excellent.
Informative and clever, it succeeds on its own merits and I hope it finds a
wide and receptive audience. I’m resisting a barrage of clichés (oops,
there’s one) but it has opened my eyes to some new sides of the debate. In
a desperately muddy pool, it hasn’t done anything to improve clarity, but
it certainly gives a different perspective. As a father to a one year old
with Down syndrome, I am increasingly drawn to the viewpoints of those at a
disadvantage from the herd. Not meant disparagingly, but I can see too
clearly these days that majority rules sums up an awful lot – and is the
battle that interest groups everywhere must fight. No difference if it’s
against doctors, men, women, able-bodied, whatever. Ignorance in general
can only be combatted from a position of rounded knowledge. Yours shines
like a beacon in the desert. Respect.
From Naomi Mc
I want to firstly thank Victoria Al-Sharqi for her thoughtful article
‘Choice and Disability’. The pro-choice movement has not adequately
engaged with disability and there is a need to do so. But as a pro-choice
campaigner, I think you know what’s coming, I have to disagree.
Again I thoroughly agree that we live in a prejudiced world in which
people with disabilities are disabled by society and by ignorance. Changing
the abortion laws would not change this.
If we lived in some dystopian future where all congenitial abnormalities
could be identified before birth and terminations enforced, this would not
end disability. People would still become disabled during their life in
numerous ways; accident, disease, old-age, etc and so disability
discrimination would still need to be tackled.
Abortion is the not the cause or perpetrator of disability discrimination.
Ignorance, power, patriarchy and fear are all to blame.
Abortion hasn’t been ‘put’ in the sphere of liberty by feminists as a way
of getting out of the disability argument. It is there because women are
trying to reclaim their reproductive autonomy. Women have the right to have
power over their womb and should not be answerable to patriarchy,
feminists, or people with disabilities.
I support abortion on demand and would support a woman living in poverty
who wants to terminate a healthy pregnancy of a disabled or abled foetus on
the grounds that she could not economically support the child. That
doesn’t mean that I don’t also campaign against poverty. It doesn’t
mean that I despise poor children. It means that I respect that woman’s
decision and her capacity to make a decision about her own abilities to
care for the potential child.
On the issue of the abortion of a foetus with a cleft palate, this is a
story that has been massively manipulated by the press and I think it is
very unfair to refer to it as an issue concerning a ‘hairlip’. A cleft
palate can be anything thing from a hairlip to the foetus’s head being
split in two with no brain development. We the public, rightly, have no
idea about the status of that foetus but plenty of people have pontificated
about the vanity of the woman with absolutely no idea about the details of
the case of the reasons she came to her decision. I understand
Al-Sharqi’s scepticism of the medical profession but the doctors in this
case certainly know more about it than we do and ultimately it was the
woman’s decision.
I can reconcile a social model of disability with support for selective
abortion. I support the rights and freedoms of individuals, to their bodily
autonomy and their right to live without prejudice and discrimination.
Restricting a woman’s right to end a pregnancy does not further
disability rights, it simply impoverishes the rights of all women.
From Suzannah
Thank you so much for this article. I do not know how much I agree with
Victoria’s final conclusions on selective abortion but her views and
experiences I greatly appreciated. This article is certainly a thinker, and
that’s what I come to the F-Word for.
From Sabre
What a fascinating insight. Shamefully I have never really thought about
this issue. It is definitely time to reconsider what being disabled means,
in terms of the Abortion Act. A lot has changed since 1967. Really
excellent article, and certainly should be a focus for all feminists
From Sam D
I would just like to say how thought provoking your article was and how
uncomfortable I feel about my previous assumptions. I really don’t know how
to respond and that is good, because some times you just need to stop and
think. Thank you for writing this and lets hope that feminism can stop
ignoring important and valid opinions.
From Victoria
I’ve just read Victoria Al-Sharqi’s article on disability and abortion two
weeks in advance of a blood test I’m having for Down’s Syndrome screening.
It has not made me rethink my decision, nor has it made me feel remotely
“defensive”. Just more than a little angered at Al-Sharqi’s total failure
to engage with the issue of abortion itself, and her arrogant assumptions
about what women who have screening and may go on to have terminations may
or may not believe about her and others. As is so often the case in
arguments about what is and isn’t a “justification” not to continue with a
pregnancy, there is no effort made to distinguish between the reason why
someone wouldn’t want a child and the reason why a woman should be
permitted to have an abortion if that is the case. These are different
things, and engaging with this pokes rather large holes in Al-Sharqi’s
arguments. It is not about whether a disabled woman should or should not
have ownership of her body; it’s about whether any woman should, and if we
believe in this, we should not believe in obliging any woman to continue
with a pregnancy without her consent. This is not about some fetuses having
fewer rights than others; it’s about no fetus having the right to trump
this essential ownership. I don’t think any pregnant woman should have to
scrabble around proving that she has the right not to carry on being
pregnant. Pregnancy is a huge, risky imposition on anyone’s body and as
long as no one is obliged to give blood to save a life, the idea that
someone should be obliged to do something far more dangerous not merely to
save one, but to create one, is obscene. Nothing is more justifiable for
the granting of an abortion than just not wanting to continue with a
pregnancy. Full stop. It’s not for Al-Sharqi or anyone else to sit in
judgement on what is and isn’t the right reason for this state of not
wanting.
Clearly, even though it shoudn’t be, personal experience is all to the
article’s author, so I would point out that my own, growing up with a
disabled sibling, has convinced me that as reasons go, disability is a very
logical one for not wanting a child. The massive needs of others can ruin
people’s lives and ignoring this or arguing that your own existence
disproves this (while the existence of millions of others doesn’t) is
pointless and actually quite heartless. You are not walking in the shoes of
countless carers, many of whom do, with justification, feel that their
lives have been ruined by the life of another. Funnily enough, they’re not
lining the streets demanding immediate euthanasia of all those born with
disabilities. They are, however, sympathetic to those who don’t think they
should be obliged to continue with a pregnancy which risks similar burdens
being placed on individuals and families. Al-Sharqi has no interest in the
voices of carers, as her response to the Minette Marrin article shows. She
is more interested in how pain not yet suffered, people not yet born,
should be safeguarded and ringfenced to prevent her own hurt feelings, at
the expense of other people’s real, not potential, lives and bodies and
freedoms.
Al-Sharqi thinks pro-choice feminists won’t engage with the disabled,
dismissing them as burdens. So she dismisses such feminists as ignorant and
perhaps assumes we won’t answer back, as we’re obviously so intimidated and
unable to deal with articulate disabled women such as herself. But there
are indeed “plenty of able-bodied people who understand severe disability”,
certainly in terms of the impact it has on their lives and the lives of
others. If this makes her uncomfortable, it’s no excuse to totally fail to
engage with arguments on the spurious basis that others are doing the same.
But let’s get back to the real issue of abortion (which I know Al-Sharqi
doesn’t want to discuss, but still…). Al-Sharqi does not want to feel
dismissed as a burden rather than a person. I don’t want to actually be (as
opposed to feel) dismissed as a baby carrie rather than a pregnant woman
with full ownership of my body and its contents. We’re both people, and if
that truly matters, the right to selective abortion needs to be protected.
Victoria Al-Sharqi, author of the article, replies
I think that you have misunderstood what I was trying to say with my article. I wasn’t trying to suggest that a foetus should have more rights than a pregnant woman, or that any woman should be forced to continue with a pregnancy ‘not to save a life, but to create one’. The main subject of my article was not the rights of the foetus at all, but the effect that selective abortion has on the lives of disabled people – by which I mean people who are already alive and walking (or wheeling) about the planet. I outlined some of these effects, both psychological and practical, before going on to ask how feminists who support selective abortion and yet take an interest in disability rights can reconcile their convictions in one area with their support for the other.
Your first criticism of my article is that it is too personal. This is because prejudice and discrimination are always experienced personally, never theoretically. The struggle for equality is about empowering people, not the creation of theories and hypotheses that have no practical bearing on individual lives. This is why any piece of writing that deals with disability rights (or human rights more generally) will be ‘personal’.
But while my article may be personal, it certainly isn’t anecdotal, as the numerous quotations from books, articles and surveys should make clear. My views are the result of many years of questioning, and they have been shaped by my involvement in the emerging field of disability studies, my interactions with other disabled people and their families, and my work in education, among many other things. Ironically, the inclusion of more anecdotes might have deflected one of your harsher criticisms (“Al-Sharqi has no interest in the voices of carers, as her response to the Minette Marrin article shows”). I am a live-in, unpaid carer to a friend who, like me, is classed as severely disabled. I also work at a residential college for young adults with learning disabilities. My dual role as a carer and an educator in the field of special needs informs everything that I write, even if I don’t refer to that role explicitly.
I’m unsure why you have chosen to use agreement with Minette Marrin as your litmus test for sensitivity to the voices of carers, as I can’t see how her use of degrading language and her propagation of dehumanising stereotypes can be said to benefit carers in any way. Marrin suggests that caring is about carrying a load rather than working in partnership with another person, a demeaning portrayal that undermines the value of the carer’s contribution and denies the uniqueness of each caring relationship. Furthermore, the widespread belief that people with certain disabilities would be better off dead (a view that Marrin puts forth with robust enthusiasm) has given birth to a second disturbing idea: that caring is all about making the best of a bad job, that disabled people lack potential, and that their lives will never be truly fulfilled. The result of this attitude is that resources are channelled into the development of prenatal tests and other preventative measures when they could be much better employed in providing decent supported living placements, respite care, a higher standard of specialist education, a wider range of therapeutic options, and better and more affordable assistive technology. In stridently telling the public that termination as the only viable choice when a foetus has impairments, Marrin and those who promote her views are helping to maintain a deeply troubling status quo. This is what I meant when I asked whether it will be possible to achieve genuine equality as long as selective abortion exists.
As I require a lot of support, it would be impossible for me to tune out the voices of carers even if I were not a carer myself. I have an early memory of lying in bed and hearing my dad in tears on the other side of the wall, repeating, “It’s all so difficult for her,” while my mum made comforting noises. I wanted to give comfort too, although I had no way of doing it. I was overwhelmed by a sense of my own powerlessness, and I decided then that I would do whatever I could to protect my parents. (As I was only five or six at the time, I obviously didn’t articulate it to myself quite like that.) The result was that when I was sexually abused at the age of nine, I did not tell anyone. It was my way of trying to make my parents’ lives easier, a silent apology for causing them so much trouble.
When I started to receive psychiatric help, years later, I was astounded to find myself in a room with other disabled people who spoke of the same emotions – guilt, shame, a heavy sense of personal responsibility towards their carers, a near-pathological fear of disappointing people, and yes, a belief that their needs had ‘ruined people’s lives’. These experiences are so common amongst psychiatric patients with disabilities that numerous books have been written on the most effective psychotherapeutic approaches. Unfortunately, the sense of liberation that I felt when I discovered that I was not isolated in feeling like this was tempered by the outraged confusion that overwhelmed me when I came across a newspaper article in favour of selective abortion for the first time.
The author painted a bleak picture of life with disability, emphasising in particular the risk of abuse. The implication was that disability is inextricably bound up with abuse; that the vulnerability caused by the former leads almost inevitably to the latter. At this point I had never even heard of the social model of disability, but I knew that there was something gravely wrong with this man’s argument. That he should advocate selective abortion instead of campaigning for a change in the type of circumstances that lead to abuse seemed to suggest that the problem lies with disabled people, not with the abusers and the flawed system that makes it possible for abuse to happen. So many of the arguments in favour of selective abortion are essentially about blame, and this has a profound psychological effect on disabled people. When I challenge these arguments, I’m not trying to preserve my ‘hurt feelings’. I’m trying to preserve things that are of slightly more weight than hurt feelings, such as basic human dignity.
You write, “The massive needs of others can ruin people’s lives and ignoring this or arguing hat your own existence disproves this (while the existence of millions of others doesn’t) is pointless and actually quite heartless.” As I have already written, I don’t ignore the difficulties experienced by carers. I also haven’t argued that my existence ‘disproves’ other people’s difficulties. I have simply argued that my existence is not responsible for those difficulties – and neither is the existence of those millions of other disabled people. It is situations and attitudes that are disabling, not our impairments.
Ignoring this, and with it their own contributions (advertent or inadvertent) to the problems experienced by disabled people, supporters of selective abortion feel quite free to take our bodies, thoughts, and experiences and put their own interpretative spin on them in order to justify their stance. You say that I shouldn’t ask any woman to justify her decision to have a termination, but in reality I don’t even have to ask – disabled people’s bowel movements, lack of proficiency in IQ tests, lack of sex life, lack of speech and lack of mobility are all proffered as self-evident reasons for having an abortion, without me needing to enquire after specifics. Recently I saw a video in which a woman explained that she had chosen abortion because she didn’t want to condemn her son to a life in nappies. Along with millions of other adults, I wear nappies (or incontinence aids, as I like to call them, given that my bowel problems haven’t reduced me to babyhood). They are tools in the same way that sanitary pads are tools. There is nothing degrading about needing them, yet they are frequently used as a primary exhibit in arguments for selective abortion – and all because people’s squeamishness about shit leads them to conclude that life isn’t worth living if you aren’t toilet-trained.
Next up after bowels, the five senses. “Imagine a world without sound,” the Royal National Institute for the Deaf says soberly. “Imagine if you couldn’t hear birdsong at dawn, enjoy wonderful sounds like a baby giggling or listen to your favourite music.” According to the RNID, this sort of fantasy will give people an insight into what it means to be deaf. The fact that the campaign provoked anger in the deaf community, with numerous deaf people protesting that their sensory experiences are different as opposed to limited, is irrelevant.
Now for Exhibit C. “Imagine giving birth to a child who will never be able to tell you that he loves you,” quavers a husky voice on an emotive video produced by Autism Speaks. Non-verbal disabled people might argue that not being able to speak is not the same as having nothing to say. They might say that they don’t want to speak, that they prefer to use modes of communication that come more naturally to them, that their way of self-expression is no more inferior to speech than French is inferior to Japanese. Again, this doesn’t matter. A life without speech must be dreadful, and no parent should condemn a child to that if they can possibly avoid it..
Finally, sex. People with certain disabilities will never enjoy sexual relationships, or indeed romantic intimacy of any sort. The Sunday Times (30 November 2008) has an article reiterating this well-known fact, specifically in relation to selective abortion and Down’s Syndrome. What an impoverished life. How painful for the poor things who are forced to endure such loneliness. The fact that people with Down’s Syndrome can and do form relationships, which can and do involve sex, and that sexuality can be explored and enjoyed in other ways than intercourse…that’s too shocking even to contemplate. There is something distasteful about the thought of retards screwing and getting screwed, don’t you think? It can’t be true.
This is what I meant when I talked about disability and self-ownership. Disabled lives are dissected in the public sphere and pieced together to form a tragic mosaic, without any input from the people who are actually living those lives. Everything from our incontinence pads to what might or might not be going on in our bedrooms are held up as justifications for selective abortion. In response to the RNID’s ‘Imagine a World Without Sound’ campaign, a member of the deaf advocacy group Grumpy Old Deafies wrote, “I am fed up to the back teeth of some hearing marketers who basically don’t have a bloody clue, portraying me and others to the world.” I can relate to his anger. The arguments for selective abortion encourage people to see those of us with disabilities as less fortunate, less capable, and ultimately less human, fostering pity at best and revulsion at worst, and I don’t want to be a part of that. But because my voice, my brain, my personal history, and even my bodily functions have been so ruthlessly co-opted, it’s not as if I have any choice in whether or not I’m used as a poster girl. Is this really a climate in which equality can flourish?
I don’t think so, but you might disagree – we seem to have different ideas about what constitutes equality. You write that while proponents of selective abortion might accept that the ‘massive needs’ of disabled people can ‘ruin lives’, they are not “lining the streets calling for the immediate euthanasia of people with disabilities”. The gap between believing that a person would be better off dead and taking active steps to bring their death about is not as wide as people would like to believe. Mencap’s ‘Death by Indifference’ campaign, which has led to an independent inquiry into the needless deaths of people with learning disabilities in NHS care, highlights the story of nine-year-old Daisy, a child with a severe learning disability who was admitted to hospital for a tooth infection. Due to the hospital’s neglect, she developed septicaemia and died. The following was written by her mother:
“After Daisy died, we discovered that staff were fully aware that Daisy’s life was in danger. They did not try to save her, they just documented her decline. This was not an accident, and it wasn’t the case that they did not realise how ill she was. They told us ‘they had misjudged her quality of life’.”
The decision to have a termination on grounds of foetal abnormality is taken after doctors have made a judgement on the ‘quality of life’ that the child would have if the pregnancy were brought to term. Such judgements are not rooted in objective medical fact, but in the doctors’ personal (and often prejudicial) opinions what it means to be disabled – in other words, how they happen to perceive people like Daisy. Given the efforts that are made to screen out foetuses that have the potential to become another crip, another gimp, another retard, another Daisy, where is the guarantee that an actual Daisy will be treated properly when she is admitted to hospital? After all, she’s not a person. Her doctor made that clear when he said to her parents, by way of comfort, “It’s almost like losing a child, isn’t it?” She’s a justification for selective abortion. She hasn’t got the ‘quality of life’ to be anything else.
And if you judge somebody to have little or no ‘quality of life’, are you going to make it your priority to preserve that life?
This is what I’m talking about when I oppose selective abortion. Not my ‘hurt feelings’. Not the rights of ‘people not yet born’. I’m talking about how supposedly private choices can contribute to prejudice that is endemic in our society, prejudice that can affect everything from the medical treatment that disabled people receive to the educational provision that is made for us to the way that prospective employers view us when we go for interview. I wrote my article because I don’t hear feminists discussing these issues, even though disability rights activists have been trying to raise the subject ever since 1967. (Has somebody pressed the mute button?) Instead, I hear feminists trying to turn it into a simple matter of the rights of a woman versus the rights of the foetus. It’s not that easy.
“Al-Sharqi thinks pro-choice feminists won’t engage with the disabled, dismissing them as burdens. So she dismisses such feminists as ignorant and perhaps assumes we won’t answer back, as we’re obviously so intimidated and unable to deal with articulate disabled women such as herself.”
I don’t think that feminists who support selective abortion won’t engage with ‘the disabled’. However, I did observe that I haven’t seen many such feminists making the attempt. Why I would think that such feminists won’t ‘answer back’ is a mystery to me, as it’s not as if disabled feminists with my views have such a monopoly over the abortion debate that we have cowed everybody else into silent submission. Quite the opposite, in fact.
What interests me most about your speculation about my train of thought (guesswork that solidifies into certainty with your use of the word ‘obviously’) is your mention of my articulateness. Rather than concentrating on the ideas that I have to communicate, you seem more preoccupied with the fact that I can communicate at all. I don’t want to speculate on why this is, in case I’m mistaken, but I would like to draw your attention to it.
Congratulations on your pregnancy. I hope that your prenatal screening has the outcome that you want. I also hope that you will be able to better understand why I take the stance that I take after reading this clarification, even if you can’t agree with my viewpoint.
From Victoria
Thank you for your response to my feedback. As you suspected, it doesn’t alter my viewpoint generally but it is very thoughtful and I did want to get back to you, especially as I now feel my initial feedback was quite sharp (I think because this is an issue that is, to be honest, very close to me personally, even if I was reluctant to admit the validity of this in my first response).
My feeling that you ignore the voices of carers arose due to your response to Minette Marin’s article, where you take her to task for not including the voices of disabled people (and then in the next paragraph seem to question whether you should listen to “able-bodied experts” claiming to know more about some severe disabilities than you do). I think many able-bodied do know more about many severe disabilities, at least from the carer’s perspective, than you do. I also think they may know more about what it’s like to be an unwilling carer (correct me if I am wrong, but it seems that you are a carer by choice, and that is very different, especially if, like you, you are a carer to a friend – far harder to be a carer to someone who is incapable of even forming friendships). Nothing in your article suggested genuine understanding of what it is like to live with someone and feel totally and utterly trapped by them in the way that many carers do. For many, it is not a partnership and never will be, and this isn’t due to a lack of understanding or support. If you are caring for someone who has no independance at all and no ability to interact with you on a meaningful or progressive level, there is no dressing it up as “partnership” – there can be love there, but it can be swamped by huge amounts of misery. It is defintely more like carrying a load.
Obviously disabilities and indeed caring relationships take lots of different forms. In general, I think people prefer to believe in your representation of such relationships than in mine (both are, I know, representative of some situations). This does, however, really trouble me. It lets people who don’t deal with disability on a daily basis off the hook. They can decide everything’s fine while families fall apart and present their lack of concern as not being prejudiced about disability. They can make smug comments about not having testing during pregnancy, safe in the knowledge that most of the time everything’s fine, but all the while implying that anyone who does is selfishly seeking “perfection” (and let’s not help the aged pensioner down the road struggling with her tantrumming son in his 50s, since all she’s dealing with is a bit of “imperfection” and hey, it takes all sorts and we love diversity…).
It is true that more resources need to be channelled into enabling anyone with a disability to achieve their full potential (although I don’t necessarily see why pro-choice feminists in particular should be responsible for leading the charge). But at the same time, fetus who will become a baby with a few pain-filled months to live, or an adult with the mental capacity of an infant, don’t actually have that much potential to be developed, and it is wrong to pretend that the capacity to grow is universal. It is also wrong to pretend that there necessarily has to be direct competition for resources between prenatal testing and providing greater care for disabled people. Furthermore, greater care and support is not a solution for many families. It’s not enough, or rather, it’s not enough to justify the implication that you might as well have a baby you don’t want as not do, as it will all be okay in the end, once society’s got it all sorted. For some disabilities and some pregnancies, it won’t ever be sorted enough.
My own personal experience is this: my brother does not have the independance you have. He has never left home, is cared for totally by my parents but has a totally normal life expectancy. He cannot form the kind of friendships which would enable him to have the carer bonds that you describe. My parents are in their sixties and getting infirm themselves. They are also utterly worn down by caring for someone who lacks the capcity to appreciate it (his disability includes severe behavioural problems, which is the worst of it). To talk about “situations and attitudes” as disabling in this scenario, rather than the impairments themselves, would be utterly meaningless. Believe me, it’s the impairments. I dread the day when I am left to take over the reins. I imagine it will be when my own children are in their teens, if not sooner. Growing up with him was hard enough; I don’t want my children to be affected by his demands and behaviour and if I can avoid it, I definitely don’t want to add to the load and risk passing things on to another generation, which is why prenatal screening is so important to me. This isn’t about squeamishness or fear of difference – if someone could say to me “your baby will just need incontinence pads” or “he just won’t be able to hear” or any of the other things you list, it wouldn’t be hard to look ahead to a positive relationship, but so many disabilities don’t fit into neat little lists of symptoms to be accomodated, but can be complex combinations, some of them utterly nightmarish.
I don’t suspect my brother feels the guilt and shame at “being a burden” you describe. Ironically, I would argue that the fact he can’t feel or express it is a large part of what makes his disability so much more burdensome to others. It’s the lack of reward that comes when someone is not able or even willing to connect with you, despite all that you do. This was why I made reference to your own articulateness. You make a point of disabled people not being listened to or not having a voice on this matter, but to me, your voice does anything but represent the type of disability that people struggle most with and this affects how representative what you say can be. This is not an accusation – it is, however, a concern that you are the voice people want to hear, while those who don’t speak in the same way – and are harder to care for because of it – can be ignored, along with the struggles of those around them. Obviously I can’t take issue with you for being intelligent, but at the same time, if I’m being honest, I read your article and worry about how other people might respond, people delighted to latch onto anything which gives them the excuse to see the world in black and white terms (e.g. disabled people are all like this therefore being a carer can’t be all that bad). One of my brother’s many disorders is autism and I am dismayed how eager others are to leap onto examples of high-functioning autistics they’ve read about or seen on TV, somehow suggesting we’re living with a genius and just haven’t appreciated this yet. People just want to believe this – it makes their lives easier and moral decisions less complex – so they do. But I obviously accept you being articulate is not your fault or something you should ever want to rein in, and am sorry if I sounded like I was suggesting that.
When you argue that “it’s not as if disabled feminists with my views have such a monopoly over the abortion debate that we have cowed everybody else into silent submission”, I don’t think you necessarily understand the silence that surrounds prenatal testing for many women (probably because we’re so busy being, um, silent). My parents don’t even know I’m pregnant yet because I want to wait until I have test results and know what I want to do. And even then, I suspect if there was a problem and I did decide to have a termination, I would be out there pretending to everyone that I’d had a late miscarriage. I have had enough hostility from people when I say what I’d do hypothetically. Much as I want to be someone who stands by what they believe in and do, if I’m in a sitation that’s already very distressing, I don’t think I’ll be bothered to fight further battles and risk discrimination where I can avoid it. And I do accept it’s not just disabled feminists with your views who create this situation. Every pregnancy magazine or book I own refuses to feature something on testing without the couple featured saying they “just want to know” and won’t ever have a termination. And often they’re as good as their word and have a lovely baby (and okay, pregnancy magazines never look ahead to adulthood for any of their cute babies, but if you are the one thinking ahead – the one thinking about having, not a baby, but an adult with this disorder when you’re in your 50s, 60s, 70s etc – you know you’re the baddie here since we’re all just meant to be saying “aah!”). I think more women should speak out about having prenatal testing yet I’m too scared to do this myself. There’s also the fact that if you are someone like me, you don’t want to put your full name to anything to do with your reasonings, because you can’t speak about the person you care for without their consent. Even if what you say is true, you can’t identify someone publicly as a huge burden on your life and describe the ins and outs of caring for them, as it’s not fair on them. To be honest, I think it is easier for you to put your name to an article on this subject than it would be for me, because the truth is, while you can put yourself on the line, I’m not in a position to hold another individual’s life up for public scrutiny. It’s not my right. This doesn’t stop me scrutinising said life anyhow, since I’m not in a position of being able to turn away and live beyond its influence. Nor does it alter my right to think about future lives and what I want my role to be in producing them.
Sorry this has ended up being quite long. In an odd way, I find it easier to write to you about this issue than to someone who would be more inclined to agree with me! I suspect this is because having read your response below, I don’t doubt your sincerity either, even if it comes from a totally different perspective. And it is better to be able for once to talk about real lives rather than listen to abstract mutterings about “perfection”.
From Claire
Abortion is, the destruction of a collection of living cells that have the
potential to become a human.
A woman needs the right to decide whether she wants to continue a
pregnancy depending on the impact rearing that child will have on her life.
This is the only thing that is relevant.
It is not a decision about the worth of a disabled child – and women that
decide that they want the pregnancy to continue when it will result in a
disabled child should receive lots of support so she can be a great mum and
the child have a great life.
The issue at stake is not the quality and worth of disabled people, it is
the quality and worth of the women’s lives.
I have a committed husband and could provide for a child. If I was forced
to sacrifice the life I enjoy to rear a child I would probably kill myself.
If I knew the child would be disabled and my life subsumed by its care I
would certainly do so if abortion were not available (actually I’d have a
backstreet one, as so many women around the world do).
I have had to be a carer before because there was nobody else available.
I did the best I could, but the impact on me was such that there is no way
I am ever doing it again.
From Mary
This is a very thought-provoking article, and I’m ashamed to say that I’ve
never thought about this issue before. As someone who is pro-choice but has
contradictory ideas about abortion, this is definitely something that I
will try and bring up in discussions in the future!
From Alex T
Thank you so much for this. You have articulated so well what I have been
struggling to express for years now. It touched so many nerves for me as my
sister is disabled and I am now 3 months pregnant.
My sister (also called Victoria!) has a number of physical and mental
disabilities and would be characterised by some as one of your “poor people
who can’t speak or even wipe their own bottoms, let alone appreciate life
for what it is”. Despite people’s ignorant perceptions, she’s a really,
really happy, settled young woman. Yes, she requires round-the-clock care,
but because we love her, we do it. Simple as that. I think that many people
who don’t “feel able to cope with raising a disabled child” are simply
misinformed (though perhaps not really through any fault of their own)
about what that entails. Really, bringing up any child is difficult, and
having had a hand in bringing up my sister, and noticing how my parents’
lives didn’t grind to a halt, I would say that you really don’t know how
you’ll cope until you try. I’ll probably end up caring for her myself when
my parents get older, and I’m more than happy to have her.
My family had no idea Victoria would be born the way she is, and whilst my
mum would never have had a termination anyway, I’m so glad she didn’t have
to put up with people pressurising her to get rid of my sister. So often
the abortion of a foetus with ‘impairments’ (whatever they are) is
presented as the only sensible course of action. Needless to say, I have
declined all screening tests for my baby, regardless of the family
history.
I’m sure I had a lot more to say than this, but can’t remember any of it!
Once again, thank you for your article, and best of luck in everything you
do.
From Katherine Dunne (Kath)
I was very disturbed to see Victoria Al Sharqui’s article attacking
women’s right to choose. I am surprised that the F-Word would choose to
serve as a platform for such an opinion as Ms Sharqui’s. The ONLY feminist
position is that women should be free to choose a termination on any
grounds. If a woman chooses to terminate a pregnancy which would lead to
the birth of a child with, for example, down’s syndrome then it means that
that potential child, who may have led a happy life, will not be born. But
that is the same as in any other aborted pregnancy. I do not accept it as a
valid argument against abortion. Ms Al Sharqui asks “How does Abortion
Rights reconcile its support of the social model [of disability] with its
belief that a decision to abort for reasons of impairment should always be
respected?” Well, presumably in the same way that feminists who support the
right of women to abort any foetus do not have a problem with respecting
the human rights of every human being once born.
Victoria Al-Sharqi, author of the article, replies
Thank you for your comments on my article. I think you have misinterpreted what I was trying to say – I wasn’t arguing that the rights of the foetus should take precedence over the rights of a pregnant woman. I was writing about the impact that selective abortion has on the lives of disabled people, by which I don’t mean foetuses.
Selective abortion contributes to negative and damaging myths about disabled people that not only have an unsettling psychological effect, but make it much harder for us to access high-quality services and support. The primary reason for this is that selective abortion is grounded in the notion that having a disability means that you have a poorer quality of life, which means that valuable resources are spent on the development of prenatal tests and other preventative measures when they could be much better spent on improving the support and services that disabled people need. On a psychological level, selective abortion promotes the idea that living with disability is all about making the best of a bad job, and that disabled people are fundamentally damaged in some way. This is incompatible with the stance taken by the disability rights movement.
This is why I questioned Abortion Rights on its attitude towards disability. If somebody believes that it is morally acceptable to say, “I want to have a child, just not a disabled child,” can they sincerely claim to believe that disabled people are equal to those who are ‘normal’? This question takes on even more urgency when you consider the tangible impact that selective abortion has on the lives of people with disabilities.
I’m a little disturbed by your suggestion that there is ‘only’ one feminist approach to this issue. I realise that some feminists will disagree with me entirely. Others will acknowledge that selective abortion ‘reinforces negative stereotypes about disability’, as the Disability Rights Commission puts it (mildly), but will disagree with me on the best way to go about rectifying the problem. Others will be in complete agreement. I’m not trying to achieve conformity here. I’m trying to spark a discussion that badly needs to be held, and that has been postponed for the past forty years.
Why feminists shouldn’t have to keep mum, by Victoria Dutchman-Smith
From Aimee
This is a great article. Me and my partner don’t really buy into any of
this ‘division of labour’ stuff. We just do the stuff that needs doing. If
it’s dinner time, or sleep time, or nappy-full-of-poo time, the one of us
who is the least busy will attend to it. I’m currently doing a degree and I
work in an environment dominated by women who are forever harping on about
how difficult it must be for me; going home, doing ALL the baby things and
then getting on with my study. The assumption is that my partner does not
help; that it’s all up to me, when in actuality, my partner picks Felix up
from nursery, and if I need to study, he will take care of all the baby
duties. Similarly, if Phil needs to study (he’s currently on a BEd course),
I will do all the baby things. Gender and ‘what we’re supposed to do’ never
comes in to it, and as a result, neither of us feel that we’re burdened by
childcare. All this gender business needs to be thrown out, because it’s
not conductive to the best interests of the child OR the parents. People
need to do what’s best for them in their situation, regardless of what the
societal norm is. That’s equality and, in my opinion, feminism is being
completely oblivious to gender roles and simply doing what you feel is
best.
From Amy Vachon
I loved this article. You found a way to say what has bothered me for so
long. My husband and I recently wrote a guest blog for Lisa Belkin’s
Motherlode parenting column on those horrid ‘martyred mommy’ chain emails
that glorify motherhood and all its mundane overwork, while cutting down
fathers.
I was dismayed at some of the commenters who were offended that we would
not want to glorify all that hard work moms do. Arghh!
From Jade
I think I have the worst baby in the world. But I agree with everything
you say.
From zak jane keir
Excellent article. I am amazed by the way so many women seem to let men
get away with being shitty lazy fathers and jackbooting around the house
because they Earn the Money – many men are great parents and equal
partners, and there is nothing ‘natural’ in the idea that women have to
take second place just because they have wombs.
From Wasp_Box
What a whining article. You should try being a Dad who has taken on the
traditional role of a Mum. I have no support network at all. All your
lovely feminist Mums view me as a freak and offer nothing. Luckily, I enjoy
bringing up my son and my wife (sorry, partner) enjoys her job.
Victoria Dutchman-Smith, author of the article, replies
In response to this comment, I’m glad my partner shows a bit more maturity and empathy than this during the times when he looks after our son while I go out to work. And he has found support networks in the end – perhaps not being bitterly antagonistic towards “feminist mothers” is a good starting point. And also not elevating yourself to the status of “a Dad who has taken on the traditional role of a Mum” (thanks, noble one), but regarding your role as that of a parent taking responsibility for his child — that might help, too. Other than that, if your life truly is made more difficult by the current gender imbalances and assumptions surrounding parenting (and it sounds like this is the case), having a go at other people who point out such imbalances for “whining”, while adopting a whinier-than-thou, my-life’s-much-harder-than-yours tone, isn’t the way forward.
From Caroline
I found this article very interesting, although I would add ‘Women who
have taken a look at what contemporary motherhood entails and decided not
to have children, but who might have them if things were different’ to your
list in the last paragraph of non-mothers whose views shouldn’t be
discounted.
If anything things seem to be getting worse when it comes to equal
involvement in parenting. Twenty years ago when I was wee I was aware that
my Dad was considered a bit of a a Neanderthal for being so uninvolved. Now
I often see such behaviour accepted as inevitable, preferable (because men
can’t be trusted not to mess up) or proof that the man in question is a
‘real man’, courageously rebelling against PC nonsense.
From Ruth Moss
There’s been a lot of discussion recently on the F word about mothers’ /
parents’ / family issues.
I wrote an article, which I think this one alludes to at one or two
points, asking amongst other things, for more understanding and empathy
from those feminists who are not parents themselves.
I do – to some extent – agree with the tone of the article, in that I
think that some women have been sold the “it’s the hardest but the best job
in the world” line to make them feel better about taking on a job with no
pay, no pension, no holidays and no perks.
BUT – and it’s a big but – at the same time, I genuinely don’t believe the
roles of mothers and fathers are *completely* interchangeable, as it
stands, at this moment in time.
When men are able and willing to grow breasts and lactate as in “Woman on
the Edge of Time”, and when men are able to grow babies and birth them,
then I will happily hang up my hat and campaign for “parental” rather than
“maternity” leave, and talk about “parent” rather than “Mum” or “Dad”.
But for now, there really are one or two jobs that only the mother can
do.
Breastfeeding also brings with it the added “problem” of prolactin, the
so-called “mothering hormone”. In Sarah Blaffer Hrdy’s “mother nature” (in
which the end conclusion is – if I’ve read it right – that there really
isn’t such a thing as a maternal instinct) the one area she finds
problematic is that of prolactin. To my mind, she never quite gives a
satisfactory answer; she too suggests it’s “problematic”, but then seems to
ignore the issue.
I don’t, however, think it’s a case of just blithely writing all parenting
duties however dull against the mother’s name just because she “has the
hormones for it”. However, I do think that at the same time we shouldn’t
say “there’s absolutely no difference” just because it makes us feel uneasy
and because it is unfeminist.
I think the area needs further research. Does prolactin/breastfeeding make
a difference? Does the fact the mother has carried the foetus for nine+
months and then given birth make a difference to her ability to somehow
understand that baby’s rhythms and wants? I don’t think those questions
have been fully answered, certainly not by any unbiased party.
However, if it does make a difference, I think that the onus should be on
the baby’s father (if the mother is in such a relationship) to work harder
to make up for any small “lack” in his hormonal makeup.
I also think there is not enough support for mothers. Other apes have a
large bank of “alloparents” to look after their offspring. We have a Mum
and a child, sometimes the Mum has a partner and occasionally one or two
parents herself.
We have… erm… playgroups. And as you point out, at most of them the
topics of conversation are so banal it’s no wonder some mothers prefer to
stay at home with just them and the baby!
(Although at my local breastfeeding support group I found intelligent
conversation and learned more about biology, how research is carried out,
media and advertising and many other topics than I ever learned at school
or ever discuss in the workplace!)
So I do not agree with everything I think you are saying (I could have
read it wrongly) in that I don’t think I am “turning a blind eye” to
mothers who believe their role is different than a father’s role, because I
don’t actually think there is enough clear cut evidence to make a case
either way.
I do agree that the “cult of motherhood” is a poor substitute for real
support. Yes, it’s like a pat on the head.
But at the same time, I don’t think we can discount the experiences of
mothers just because they differ from ours.
For example, I do full time paid work because I can’t afford not to, but I
hate every minute of it as being away from my child has contributed to my
PND for which I now take medication. I’m not the only one in this
situation. Betty Friedan in “The Feminine Mystique” era might scratch her
head at this, though I suspect she might have more sympathy if she was in
“The Second Stage” era.
However I’m well aware of others who can’t afford TO do paid work (because
they aren’t subsidised for childcare, or because the childcare there is in
their area is poor quality).
I think as feminists we hear a lot about the latter, but not so much about
the former. Just as there is something of a “taboo” within mainstream
motherhood against saying how much you hate it, there is almost a taboo in
some feminist circles against saying that actually, you love it, you’d much
rather mother than do paid work, and actually, no, you don’t even mind the
nappies.
Your article certainly is thought-provoking anyway.
From Karen
I read the article ‘Why feminists shouldn’t have to keep mum’ with
interest. I agree with much that Victoria says, for example that parenting
should be shared by everyone. I have recently returned to work and know
just how hard and isolating it is at home full time. However the following
statement has pulled me up short:
‘It might upset some mothers to say that their femaleness is not intrinsic
to how they act as parents. But it isn’t, and to claim otherwise isn’t
to take a neutral “all things are equal” approach.’
As a breastfeeding mother of an 8 month old I can’t agree with this
statement. It is a fact that only I can breastfeed my daughter. It is a
fundamental aspect of our relationship and the way she is parented. Of
course it won’t always be the case but at this early stage in her life it
is and will continue to be so for some time to come.
Of course for older children and those who are formula fed this is not
such an issue. But if a mother chooses to breastfeed then only she can
perform this function. It is after all her body, her breasts which are
required even if it is to express milk to be given in a bottle.
Yes, I do wish I could share the burden at times (say at lunchtime as I
rush to nursery to feed or run for the breast pump or at 4 a.m. when my
daughter wakes for a feed).
I don’t think it is helpful to brush this issue aside. I believe the
shockingly low rates of breastfeeding in this country are due to the
vacuun in support for women who do breastfeed and the idea that you can
share all parenting. Well, no actually in the case of breatfeeding you
can’t. Yes you can express (if you are able to and maintain your supply)
but you still have to find time to do it.
There is one solution of course – feed your child artificially. But
breastfeeding brings a myriad of benefits for both mother and child,
including increased levels of protection against a raft of illnesses from
ear infections to breast cancer.
I don’t think that denying this unique and special role that mothers
perform in the name of feminism is particularly helpful. I would rather
see a discussion of how this role could be properly supported than pretend
it doesn’t exist because it is inconvenient to admit that there are simply
some things that only a woman can do.
From KNorton
Thankyou for this refreshing article.
From apu
As someone who is very much interested in having children, but petrified
of the work that motherhood involves, this article said it all to me. I
think it is to important to say that while respecting individual choices,
we shouldn’t missing out the gendered nature of these choices – and the
burden they place on many women; to point that out is not to devalue
motherhood, but to insist that parenting is not some sacred duty assigned
only to women.
Time to end parental leave discrimination, by Jennifer Gray
From Ruth Moss
Lots of good points especially comparing the UK to some of the
Scandinavian countries where parental leave is well-paid and therefore does
away with the myth that being a parent is unproductive and not real
“work”.
However, and I know I’m probably sounding like a broken record here, there
is one incredibly important issue that hasn’t – unless I’ve missed it –
been mentioned at all.
Breastfeeding. Something that (with a few very rare and noteable
exceptions) only a woman can do
Babies that aren’t breastfed are at higher risk of various illnesses both
in childhood and in later life ranging from discomforts like allergies to
serious conditions like type two diabeties. Even life threatening
conditions like cancer are at a slightly higher risk in adults that weren’t
breastfed as babies. A non-breastfed baby has five times the chance of a
breastfed baby of being admitted into hospital with gastroenteritis in its
first year of life.
And that’s before you get to what not breastfeeding does to the mother; it
brings her periods back almost immediately; it gives her body much less
time to recover from the birth and also it increases her risk of certain
cancers including breast cancer.
And while it is true that some women are able to go back to work and pump
milk, many women struggle to pump. To maintain a full supply before a baby
is started on other foods (around six months) it is necessary to pump
several times during the working day. Some women struggle to pump enough
milk for their babies, and there are even some have a high concentration of
a certain enzyme in their milk which makes it “go off” much faster and
therefore is almost impossible to store / transport.
And pumping does not always have the same protective effects, health-wise,
on the mother, as breastfeeding.
Bottle feeding and dummy use, regardless of what is in the bottle, can
change the shape of a baby’s developing jaw and can cause speech and oral
health problems. There is even increasing evidence that bottle feeding can
change the shape of the baby’s palate so much that she or he is at risk of
sleep apneoa in later life, which can be a life threatening condition.
(I know every time someone talks about there being a real, and in some
cases large difference between breastfeeding and bottle / formula feeding
accusations of “breastfeeding nazi” or “making women feel guilty” are not
far behind so let me make this clear. These are simply the facts. There is
a difference between the two. I am not saying this to judge as there are
all sorts of various reasons why a woman might choose not to, or might stop
breastfeeding. I’m just stating the facts about the difference.
If you require references to support these facts I am more than happy to
provide them.)
So breastfeeding actually is pretty important, and the longer a child is
breastfed, the more the health risks (to both mother and baby) are reduced.
Longer maternity leaves contribute to longer-term breastfeeding.
Having said all the above, it is not that I am 100% “dead against” the
idea of calling maternity leave parental leave and splitting it between two
partners.
All I’m trying to say is that I really don’t think that not addressing the
issue of breastfeeding is going to help either. It is an issue, it is
something only the mother can do, and it is something most women (over
three quarters) start out wanting to do, so it’s not as if I’m talking
about a minority here.
Unfortunately, “going back to paid work” is one of the biggest reasons
women wean their babies
So what to do?
If you’ll humour me for a moment, I personally think the issue is far
wider than the paternity / maternity leave split.
I think that the workplace needs to change out of all recognition to
accommodate the fact that bringing up children is actually an incredibly
important job and needs to have time and effort put into it. It also needs
to be recognised as such, including by those who choose not to have
children.
And I think that the point about some Scandinavian countries misses out
the fact that children and parenting in general are viewed in a very
different way there.
(For example, in Sweden it is illegal to hit a child. Ever. End of. Not so
here where it is still legal under the guise of “reasonable chastisement”
which reinforces the old “children = property” idea).
I think that once we change that perception of children so that their
rearing, raising and yes, breastfeeding and nurturing, is seen as important
and vital to the improvement of society, and we change workplaces in
alignment with this, we will see a push for things like flexible working,
home working, even on-site workplace creches and even far more flexible
maternity / parental leave (including the opportunity to come to work with
the baby on occasion, or to do some paid work at home etc.)
I think what I’m trying to say is, I like the Swedish model. (And Sweden’s
breastfeeding rates, funnily enough, are sky high in comparison to ours.)
But I’m just not sure we’re in the kind of place, in terms of our attitudes
towards children, where it would work. I could just see the UK government
cutting up the current nine months paid (at just over £100 a week)
maternity leave and divvying it up into six months mother, three months
partner, which would just make things even worse.
I could even see us going the way of America where the non-essentialist
model of parenthood has in part led to women getting no paid maternity
leave at all in some cases.
We need a new way of seeing children. We also – sorry if this makes me an
“essentialist” – need to recognise that a breastfeeding mother’s
contribution to baby rearing is important and is uniquely female. What we
don’t want is the false logic that then says “and therefore she should do
everything else, too” but we do need to say that sometimes this might mean
that the mother will need a longer leave than her partner, and will need
different terms and conditions than her colleagues if/when she returns to
work.
I think that the article makes some important points but I think the issue
is a lot wider than just the difference in leave.
(For what it’s worth, personally I would like to see both parents – if
there are two parents – given an equally long length of well-paid leave and
then both given the opportunity for an incredibly flexible – including the
opportunities for part-time and home-work – and staged return to paid work
without suffering any prejudice from their colleagues.
But I’ve a long feminist wish-list and maybe I’m just an idealist.)
From Clare
Agreed!
My partner was initially refused parental leave point blank due to the
fact we were not married. Only by going in with a print out from a legal
website of his rights was he able to get the Human Resources rep to agree
and he works for one of the big four accountancy firms.
Two weeks is nothing. Barely a drop in the ocean. The baby has barely
woken up yet and the mother is usually still riding high on offers of help
from family. Its a month later that the loneliness and stress sets in.
The father/partner has no time to bond and is back at work before they and
the baby have barely been introduced.
I was lucky. My partner was keen to be hands on from day one but the
message he gets from work is that he shouldn’t be asking for time “off” and
that he is something of a minority interest.
His friend recently also became a father. He was back at work within a
week. The company said it wasn’t their responsibility to find cover. He
is not unusual.
From Emma Hadfield
I wholly agree with your article. I am often frustrated by this issue.
How men can be expected to play more of a role in the upbringing of their
children is beyond me, when they are not entitled to the same leave rights
as women. How women are supposed to carry on their careers if they choose,
when for their partner to stay at home would mean a significant financial
loss. I firmly believe that the length of leave time allocated after
having a baby should be flexible in that it can be shared by both in the
partnership if they choose. I was unaware of the petition running and have
signed it and forwarded the link to everyone I know! Hopefully we will see
a change one day soon.
From Amity
Great article Jennifer, thank you for highlighting this issue and working
towards thinking of a solution instead of just moaning about it, as so many
of us do (me included)!
One thing I would like to see with regards to parental leave is the
ability for paternity leave to be deferred to a later date, perhaps until
the child is three. I say this because as a mother who practices child-led
weaning, it is much easier for me to be the sole at-home parent for the
first 1.5 – 2.5 years since I’m the only one who can breastfeed. My
daughter breastfed until she was 18 months and it was important to us that
she receive that breastmilk. However, once she had weaned my husband
would’ve *loved* to be able to take his leave at that point instead of in
the very early days when really his only job was to help tidy up the house
and fetch me food and drink while I fed our newborn constantly.
Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s important for partners/fathers to be able
to bond with their babies in the early days too, but I know that for
mothers who aren’t pumping and/or going back to work within the first year,
it would be nice to be able to do so once the child is a bit older but
still too young to go into pre-school or full-time care.
From Victoria Dutchman-Smith
I really appreciated Jennifer Gray’s article on parental leave
inequalities. I find it shocking that the imbalance in this country is so
great. When I have mentioned this to people of my parents’ generation, the
response is always that “women will want to stay at home…” (no one says
“apart from you”, but they don’t really need to). Yet the fact is, if that
were true, a law change to make things transferable would still allow women
to make that choice. We’d just get to see whether it really is a choice.
My partner and I would have loved to share looking after our son in the
first few months of his life more equally. The fact is, though, while I got
paid over £100 a week and had my job kept safe for me, had we swapped
places at any point, he’d have received no money and had no job to go back
to at the end of it. And this isn’t something anyone wants to do with a new
baby just arrived. The next time someone justifies the pay gap on the basis
of women preferring to stay at home, I’d like to see them explain how male
and female preferences can be assessed at all given that there’s no way of
telling what people would do if all things were equal.
I think I’ve been waiting for things to just “evolve” in this country, but
Gray’s piece has made me realise this isn’t enough. I will definitely be
signing the petition and writing to my MP, so thank you for this piece of
inspiration.
Comments on older features and reviews
‘The useless organ’, by Maggie Lee
From Gráinne Tobin
This is so horrible for Maggie – I suspect that the customary comforting
noises about hysterectomies may conceal a lot of casualties like her. I
imagine anyone with her test results would have accepted the need for the
op. But what an aftermath… I am 57 and have all my original bits but what
do other women think, who have experienced hysterectomy? 22 years ago I met
someone at the University of Ulster who was researching exactly this, and
she told me her preliminary findings were that women’s reactions depended a
lot on whether they thought the medical need was genuine and urgent and
whether symptoms that bothered them had actually been lessened. I would
love somebody to be able to do something for Maggie, especially to help
repair her feelings for her children. But mayeb she is right and this just
is not possible. it is heartbreaking.
Is Tarantino really feminist?, by Emma Wood
From Catie Gutierrez
Thank you for writing this article on Tarantino’s Death
Proof. It bothers the hell out of me that people can’t imagine a depiction
of a woman that is more empowering than these overly-sexualized women
Tarantino comes up with. It just goes to show that we have a long way to
go.
Confidential?, by Karen James
From Rebecca Anderson
I recently read your article in which you told us about the “walk of
shame”. I was toatally shocked by this! And would like to congratulate you
on standing up for yourself and ringing the NHS and writing to the centre.
I cannot believe that people would act like this! You should never have had
to suffer that humilation!
From Sophie
I think that is awful! I am glad you complained, maybe it will mean that
other women don’t have to experience the same.
I have had 2 experiences with the morning after pill in the last few
years.
The first was standing at a counter at a pharmacy when a young woman
approached the counter looking slightly embarassed. She asked to speak to
the pharmacist and the shop assistant demanded to know what about. She said
she wanted the morning after pill, and looked like she wanted to sink
through the floor. The assistant said that there wasn’t a dispensing
pharmacist able to give it free there, and that she would have to go to
another pharmacy or pay. By this point the poor woman looked really very
embarrassed and left. She had obviously wanted to speak to the pharmacist
privately and there was even a sign on the wall saying that you could do
that! I was horrified, especially when the assistant commented on it to her
colleague that was serving me
My experience was much better. I went to Boots, asked to speak to the
pharmacist, I was directed to a private window with a screen around it.
Filled out a form, was given the tablet and some water and that was that
The form itself assumed that you exclusively slept with men, but then
given what I was asking for I decided that wasn’t SO unreasonable.
From Joanna Gill
What a load of rubbish. I am mildly concerned that you find this an
outrage. I couldn’t care less if someone knows I’m having sex. Of course
I’m sure my dad still likes to think I’m a virgin, but to be honest I think
even he is over that. If we are strong enlightened women, why are we still
afraid of our sexuality? Why are you complaining to NHS Direct about your
own psychological incapacity to deal with this situation. If they asked you
do have a colposcopy in the waiting room then I might understand your
embarassment. I think you should do more reading into female sexuality and
spend less time listening to what strangers say under their breath.
Goodness, if all women listened to what men said to them under their breath
and cared we’d be in a right mess.
Karen James, author of the article, replies
Frankly I think you are totally missing the point! I love my sexuality – hence why I used my full name for the article – and if there is one thing people say about me is that I am DEFINATELY not ashamed of it!! This was always an issue about my rights to privacy in the NHS – and I also think you know that.
From Claire
I was in hospital for removal of wisdom teeth under GA. This was in around
1982. For some reason, it was essential for the anaesthetist to examine my
chest, not by putting the stethoscope under my gown but by my removing all
clothing to the waist. Yes, the curtains were around the bed. But the look
that flashed between the (male) anaesthetist and the (female) nurse when
they saw my boobs (rather on the large size) made me flush scarlet. It was
sort of ‘wow look at the knockers on her’ sort of look. Just having teeth
extracted! A different sort of embarrassment admittedly but nevertheless
thoroughly unprofessional and embarrassing and I’ll never forget it. I
didn’t complain at the time, I just wanted to forget it, but clearly I
haven’t.
My sympathies to you and glad they’re sorting it out at the surgery.
From Samantha
In response to your Confidential article, when I went to my chemist to get
the Morning After Pill, I was told to take it, and was handed a cup of
water and the pill, in the middle of the very crowded room. I was burning
with shame and have never returned there, it was one of the most
humiliating experiences of my life.
Karen James, author of the article, replies
Thanks for a very thoughtful and intelligent response to my article. You know, some respondents did not get why I was angry. That just says to me that humiliating women in certain circumstances has become normalized. But clearly you understand how I felt.
That was a disgusting way to treat you when you are already worried enough about pregnancy and you have the absolute right to access those services and to enjoy privacy. I do hope you complained to the manager, but I can also very much understand if you didn’t. You already feel totally humiliated and just want to get away, don’t you? It is also painful to have to think about. However, whatever you did in the situation – I do hope that you are now ok.
From not an object
i’m glad rachel brought this issue up. i’ve had the same experience
although for me the worst part has been trying to say in a stage whisper
that i want an appointment for the morning after pill or to get free
condoms. however quietly you try and tell the receptionist however people
will doubtless hear what you’re asking for. i do think there should be a
more subtle way of doing this, perhaps even indicating on a form out of
sight what you’re there for if its a sensitive issue. i find it so
embarassing that other people over-hear these rather personal issues,
particularly if the receptionist then decides to converse in a loud voice
about the issue!
Karen James, author of the article, replies
Thanks very much for your response to my article! You make some excellent points about how these facilities are set up. They are meant to promte total privacy but they really don’t. Have a great example of that: my local GUM clinic (where you go to get tested for STI’s) has the men’s section downstairs and the women’s upstairs. You may think that this is a good way to make women feel their privacy is being protected – apart from the fact, that you actually have to walk right through the men’s waiting room to get to the stairs to the women’s! I felt bad enough having all these men staring at me now imagine if I had been a woman who has been raped!!!! AGH!! And yes, I have considered complaining about this too, it seems to be all I have done with the NHS lately!
But many of your points are one’s I raised with the head nurse at the walk-in centre when I complained. The “stage whispering” (great way to put it!) one is one that I think every one hates! I did mention this and the head nurse told me that they are looking into ways to remedy this at present. But as to whether this is country-wide, I really don’t know. It’s ridiculous that some facilities still use names, and that they have those silly signs “please give people privacy and stand away from reception” because not everyone cares enough to give you space! So I think your idea about a private room, out of sight is great! perhaps mentioning that to your local NHS facility may make you feel good? I just wonder because complaining to the head nurse made me feel amazing and that I had got some power back after such a humiliating experience!
The Perfect Vagina, a review by Amy Clare
From Nicky_G
I just read your articale about libia plasty you watched on TV, so did I.
I understand where you are coming from as I thought Rosies Vagina was
wonderful as every womens is. But I am only 20yrs old and thinking about
the op as I have major disscomfert during sex and other activities.
All in all I think Womem should be proud of what they are but if it hurts
and you can do something against it go for it! But please check out your
surgeon!
XoXo To all the girls be yourself! Unless it hurts!
The British Woman Today: a qualitative survey of the images in women’s magazines, a review by Catherine Redfern
From Annie MacNeill
I’m afraid you’ve just made me actually want to read the book now (and
apart from anything else, I’m thinking of doing a more sensible analysis of
women’s magazines myself so it’d be good to see what bad stuff has gone
before…) any idea if this book is still available anywhere?
Jess McCabe, editor of The F-Word, replies
Sorry, Annie, we don’t have any suggestions – you could always try searching on a second hand book site, like Abe Books, or at the library.
In the name of the father…, by Sarah Louisa Phythian-Adams
From Jessica
I actually agree with your new naming system. I’m not married, and have no
intention of marrying any time soon, but I have often wondered if I would
change my name on marriage. My instinct was that I’d keep my name and my
future husband would keep his, but then the issue of children’s names is
raised and yours seems like the perfect solution! I also intend to fight my
whole life to be referred to as Ms, not Miss or Mrs. I’m about to become a
teacher and I think this will be a long struggle! Thanks for coming up with
such a good solution to the naming problem.
Where the 1967 Abortion Act doesn’t apply, by Siún Carden
From Izzi
I would just like to comment on the “Where the 1967 Abortion Act doesn’t
apply” article. I found it very helpful and easy to understand the current
law (I’m studying on abortion rights). So thank you for posting.
Every girl wants a stalker, by Rachel E
From Lisa
Well said. I am frequently stalked by men and have been trying to
understand the psychology of it so that I can somehow get them to stop.
Your assessment of the motives underlyingn stalking are right on.
However, I must say that HEALTHY men do not do this. They are whole within
themselves and will meet a woman, even offer an introduction. And then see
where it goes. If she resists, he will accept her refusal.
Sick men need, want, and hunger for female companionship. They seem pretty
indiscriminate in their choices. The only discernible factor seems to be
that they are somehow attracted — and therefore demand that she
reciprocate. Despite her telling him she is not interested, physically
bolting from him, he will follow her to her car, stare, leer, memorize her
schedule, hoping to catch her — and then when she refuses, he will
retaliate, get angry, “punish” her….to incite any kind of reaction and
then will move in for the key, as if teh woman is prey.
Do you have any strategies on how to carry yourself or respond in order to
deter stalking? Since I am a professional woman who often frequents public
places alone, I am often targeted for this type of behavior — and must say
it is taking an inordinate toll on me, and leaving me feeling incredibly
stressed.
The Virgin Daughters, a review by Dawn Kofie
From Kris
I’ve never, thank the gods, been party to one of these “purity balls”.
Have I, however, been pressured to conform and be a good, straight, pure
little Christian girl? Oh yes; I’m 18-years-old, and as my hormones rage,
the pressure increases.
I was given a “purity ring” for my 15th birthday; it had three little
hearts bearing my mother, my, and my father’s respective birthstones. I’ve
since lost the ring and have no interest in wearing it, but the message
that was sent with its giving is still clear: “have sex before marriage,
and you’re a shame to us.”
As a bisexual, academically oriented woman, I honestly can’t see myself
settling down with a man. I can see myself making a home with another
woman, but my parents are as rigidly against homosexuality as they are
against my losing my virginity. Ironically, though, my mother pressures me
constantly about finding a nice boy and giving her grandbabies.
I’m sure this all sounds like a poorly worded rant, but honestly, I just
needed to get it out to someone. I’d like to add, though, that there’s been
no mention of purity rings for any of my three teenaged brothers.
General comments
From leslie gardner
suppose i am feeling my age (a 60th birthday coming on 5th january) but
it always irks me that particularly young UK women are requested to
participate in feminist forums like yours (which i enjoy very much) – in
some ways all the world is aimed at young women – it is an AngloAmerican
and European obsession – someone told me once that 45 year old and up women
become invisible – surely, therefore, they need specific solicitiation more
than a young hormonally potent woman who is organically, and properly so,
designed to attract attention for propagation of the species among other
things – what happens later? signed off, with love, from the invisible
woman…
Jess McCabe, editor of The F-Word, replies
We want to encourage new voices, who may not have been published elsewhere before – which often, but not always, means younger women. But that doesn’t mean we don’t also encourage and frequently publish work by feminists of all ages.
From Lynsey Rose
Something that might interest you. I met my boyfriend on a morrissey
message board and have been an infrequent poster for several years, mainly
chatting about pop culture or trying to educate people a little about
feminism. Yesterday someone posted a thread about Britney Spears, to which
two men replied she was a ‘slut’. I very politely explained that this was
not very nice language and the reasons why. In return, I was called a slut,
a dirty slapper and a cocksucker. When I complained to the moderators, the
male one said he would ban that person for ten days, which I felt was fair.
But the female one intervened, and said I should not have reported those
posts, as it did not constitute harrassment, like racial harrassment, for
example. Apparently sexist harrassment is perfectly acceptable, and I
should jus put up and shut up.
I have now left the board, as I do not wish to be associated with a place
that has those rules, or lack of. The poster who insulted me was a brand
new person who was just being glib, and could easily have been dealt with,
whereas I have been making a contribution, however small, to the board for
years.
It seems minor, but I actually feel quite hurt that standing up for what I
believe in means I can no longer visit a place where my boyfriend and I
met.
No one backed me up; not least the women. Another victory for the trolls,
another loss for feminism.
Jess McCabe, editor of The F-Word, replies
Sounds to me like you did the sensible thing – tried to report what happened to the mods, and then when they didn’t intervene, left.
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