A Load of Arse

I intended to write a rousing piece about the irony of squeezing past chauffeur driven cars around the back of the Intercontinental Hotel to join a demonstration calling for borders to be open and a small part of our wealth being given to those in need.  It would have been full of inspirational moments of human kindness and the euphoria of a crowd bolstered by Corbyn’s sweeping victory.   It would have been profound and more beautifully written that what’s coming, but I've chosen instead to write about what happened at a motorway service station on our way back from the demonstration; I should warn you there’s a lot of arse. 

 

My partner doesn’t think about her clothes; I am vanity incarnate and feel self-conscious if I haven’t plucked my moustache hairs before setting my face on the public, but she gloriously doesn’t give a shit.  I would say it’s a defiant feminist and lesbian statement, but to be honest, I just don’t think what she looks like occurs to her.  It’s one of the many reasons I love her.

So, I was ranting at the lack of independent cafes in service stations and pretending to choke on my evil capitalist Costa-fortune tea and my partner was languidly sipping her coffee.  At this juncture, I should point out, I am a petite and feminine 33 year old, though on first glance I look considerably younger (in the past people regularly thought my business partners have been my dad).  My partner looks much younger that her 31 years, and consequently regularly gets asked for ID and spoken to as if she’s an educationally subnormal child.  I suspect this is in part why what happened happened; if we were a straight couple who looked more obviously like thirty-something professionals I am sure my partner’s dress would have been left for her man to oversee.  Alternatively, if she were a man, I doubt it would’ve been worthy of comment.

An older woman, I guess in her 60’s walked over to us from where she’d been sitting inside.  In a conspiratorial gesture, she put her hand on my partner’s shoulder and said to her,

‘I hope you don’t mind, and I don’t mean to embarrass you, but people have been talking.  Your trousers have slipped down and your behind is on show, they’ve been laughing about you.’

Instinctively, my partner pulled up her trousers, though there was a mere sliver of skin showing; it was hardly a builders’ full moon.  I sat there mute, trying to understand whether the stranger was genuinely concerned about my partner’s dignity and wondering who the apparent chimps were that deemed a spot of skin something so worthy of hilarity.  My partner muttered something polite and flushed as the woman shuffled off.

Too late, all the things we should have said fell into our minds, namely ‘who are these hoards of prudish morons and why didn’t you address their behaviour not a stranger’s clothing?’ and many other less coherent things to the tune of ‘fuck off and mind your own business.’

Something about it, that oh-so feminine ‘between us girls’ took me straight back to school.  I am pleased and proud that I went to a girls’ school, but I remember with horror the policing of one another’s behaviour along strict codes of feminine behaviour; the shaming and impossible balance between ‘too much make-up’ or else daring not to make an effort and looking like (whisper it) ‘a lesbian.’   If I’ve tucked my skirt into my pants (which I do with surprising regularity) and someone kindly points it out that’s one thing, but shaming a stranger’s body is quite another.  I don’t think it’s misogynistic of me to point out that women are often instrumental in shaming other women for ‘unfeminine’ behaviour.  At the most extreme, this is adult women perpetrating FGM on girls to make them acceptable, and at the milder end are the endless vitriolic ‘look at her flab’ comments that sell celebrity magazines.

Anyway, I wrote this because I was surprised at how angry it made me, clearly it tapped into something much deeper, that all of us live with all the time.  This tiny incident reminded me of how prescriptive and narrow acceptability still is for women; in the cafe we were surrounded by male football fans, shouting and spilling over chairs with a liberal display of hairy arse cracks.  It made me all the more resolute that I will not be complicit in the shaming of women for what they decide to wear or what they look like.  Shame on you motorway service station woman!  

Right to Remain and The Fight to Resist

We were late, and as we shuffled awkward and crab-like to find seats, I looked for the first time at the panel, and thought ‘balls, like a BBC Comedy show, a panel of men...’ To my relief, this was addressed almost immediately, the women who were due to speak were all called away to support people at risk of detention and deportation.

I wouldn’t have immediately connected the struggles of the panellists to Right to Remain, there was the head of a union specifically for migrant workers, the director of LGBT group and a Housing Action activist (who was just such a lovely chap, I wanted to hug his little beardy face).  

I might be a committed and long-standing lefty, but being based in Cheltenham I know I’m somewhat sheltered in my activism.  Living in what’s probably the whitest town in the UK I’d never really considered the connections between the struggle to secure affordable housing and immigration raids. Exploring these links and setting them within a broader political context was a revelation to me; the theme throughout the day very much seemed to be to find parallels between different struggles, and to build solidarity between campaigns.

After the panel had given passionate accounts of their work, a woman in the row in front made a stunning point.   With great clarity she pointed out that there is often a dichotomy between ‘story-tellers’ and those who are perceived to be ‘experts’ and that this approach of wheeling out victims with a narrative to support the work of policy makers and shapers, is both ethically dubious and ineffective.  Much to everybody’s relief, the organisation of the Right To Remain conference was such that all had a chance to contribute, allowing ideas and knowledge to be shared and individuals to make connections.  Following the opening panel discussion, we grouped firstly by area and then later by type of campaign.  This proved to be an incredibly effective way of facilitating peer support and the sharing of ideas.

As a feminist, I’m very aware of the power of the ‘personal as political,’ particularly when collective struggle is atomised.  One woman powerfully described the feelings of fear and isolation so many migrants face; with neighbour pitted against neighbour, bribed by the Home Office to inform on one another’s immigration status.  The mistrust, fear and silence created by this paralyses individuals and wrenches communities apart; a very personal consequence of a political strategy to create a ‘hostile environmentfor immigrants.’

The raw passion, commitment and zeal of those at the conference was infectious.  Nothing was toned down in case there was an errant Tory who happened to recognise migrants as human, we were all loud and proud anti-capitalists.  I must admit, I was slightly surprised when a chap stood up and proclaimed himself as part of an anarchist collective, and then another made an impassioned appeal for everyone to join him in opposing the Arms Fair.  His engaging and simple argument; that it is an immoral double standard that weapons can travel freely across borders whilst people can’t.  He was totally right, though in another space would’ve been avoided like those religious odd balls that purport to share the meaning of life with their little stands full of crappy magazines.

I don’t know how it’s happened, but somehow being there I noticed I’d slipped into thinking strongly worded letters to MPs and worthy letters to reputable newspapers were the only weapons in the feminist lefty’s arsenal. Being in the company of so many strident radicals reminded me that there is also a place for those who fight with the police (and win!) to protect their communities, and that it is valid to view the discrimination faced by oppressed groups (be that women, LGBTI people, disabled people, BME people or migrant people) as integral to capitalism.

I left feeling resolute about my course of action.  I intend to research how Immigration Action Teams work in this area, to link with and volunteer at GARAS, to educate myself about the asylum process and to do whatever I can to counter the vitriol spewed by the tabloids.  

Next week The Everyman is putting on a production of ‘TheBogus Woman,’ a play about one woman’s struggle through the immigration system, following this there will be a discussion about the issues covered.  Making migrants visible in our communities, and allowing voice to individual stories is integral to challenging prejudice.

One of the points that really resonated came towards the end of the day, commenting on the devastation US and UK foreign policy has wrought across the Middle East, a man, himself a migrant, said ‘You don’t set fire to someone’s house and then stop them from leaving.’

Pictures throughout - Kathe Kollwitz

Unspinning the Rhetoric of Choice

A friend sent me an email outlining why she supports Amnesty. I haven't her permission to publish it, but thought my response might be of interest.

With the predominate rhetoric being about supporting lifestyle choices rather than defending those who only have one 'choice,' the Nordic model is often presented as illiberal.  It’s not a sexy argument fronted by a happy ‘Belle de Jour’ style hooker, and maybe that’s why so many other wise liberal people recoil from it. But there’s nothing left-wing or progressive about ignoring the most vulnerable, or supporting something that perpetuates the revolting idea that men are entitled to buy women’s bodies, or that sex is something ‘done to women.’  There’s a subtle hint in much of the criticism of supporters of the Nordic model which implies that if you’re anti-sex work, you’re anti-sex. Obviously that’s bullshit, but I do think that’s why a lot of people shy away from it; it’s counter intuitive and deeply ‘uncool’, which doesn’t mean it isn’t the moral and practical option.

The choice to work in the sex industry is not made in a vacuum.  I don’t blame those in the industry, it’s a fairly logical response to an illogical society, whereby women are so frequently valued on their perceived sexual availability rather than being recognised for who we are.  The sex industry is as diverse as it is lucrative; but the agency of a vocal minority does not justify the harm done to many.  Obviously exact numbers are hard to come by, but I strongly believe those on Twitter are the entitled few. Hypothetically, if that were disproven, I’m not sure that would justify the suffering of anyone else, or mitigate the harm caused to society at large.

Look at the numbers of women willing to undergo harmful and invasive surgery to make themselves attractive to men.  That is a social ill, an international epidemic of women hating our bodies, and it’s perpetuated by a fucked-up patriarchal society that makes money from it. Similarly to prostitution, there are huge vested interests.  It’s valid to question why a woman who says she felt liberated by having a labiaplasty feels that, and it’s also entirely fair to question why such procedures exist and who profits from them. Making political and social problems seem like personal choices is something the rightwing specialises in, and I see the ‘choice’ to engage in sex work in this way.  Everyone is damaged by the existence of sex work, men’s sense of entitlement to our bodies infects society. Socially sanctioning sex work, by decriminalising it doesn’t erase the stigma for women, it just spreads the message that men are owed sex.

The clients of organisations such as One25, Rosa or most of the frontline women’s services, aren’t going to be on our social media radar, they’ll be on street corners or in brothels. Economic migrants, those who are trafficked, those who have substance abuse/ addiction problems are unpleasant to think about, they don’t make good copy. Amnesty has a shameful history of refusing to share a platform with survivors of the sex trade (Rachel Moran springs to mind).  Rather than recognise the agency of the few who are relatively privileged, we should protect the most vulnerable.  So decriminalising sex work, but prosecuting those who pay for sex would allow women safety and security to report abuse, but obviously it needs to be balanced with support and exit strategies.  There have been problems with how the Nordic model has been implemented, but this is often due to inhumane policing (e.g. evicting women migrants who work in brothels) rather than any fault with the model itself.  Decriminalisation in Holland, New Zealand and Germany has lead to a massive rise in trafficking and exploitation of children. When buying sex is decriminalised traffickers and pimps flourish, look at Amsterdam and Hamburg, both have become prostitution destinations, with women and children trafficked to meet the increased demand.  In addition, when the entire industry is decriminalised, competition increases and as more women enter the industry, prices go down.

Everyone deserves to have dignity at work, but sex work is not comparable to other dangerous jobs. For one thing, it’s almost entirely women selling and men buying; that’s a fundamental and damaging power imbalance.  I don’t think women should be punished for working in the sex industry, but the society that presents that as an option must be changed.  If it were women selling their bodies for men to punch, would you not worry that men would start to believe that they had a right to do that, would it not concern you that there was a market for it?  If it was their choice, and it enabled them to feed their families/ addictions/ pay rent/ mortgages, is that ok or should no-one be that desperate?  I suppose, prostitution is at the nexus of so many intersected problems. The fact it’s often the choice of ‘occupation’ for Trans people doesn’t justify it any more than it tends to be poor women who work in the sex industry.  The onus should not be on individual choice, but on preventing harm in a deeply unequal society. To my mind, we need to stop people being marginalised, not make their ‘choice’ of occupation less marginal.

Decriminalising the buying of sex doesn’t make prostitution safer for women. In advocating this Amnesty are sanctioning men’s right to buy women’s bodies. Allowing that to go unchallenged will make inequality worse for women and girls everywhere.  

Amnesty on Guns

I’ve done a lot of reading recently to educate myself about the arguments for and against Amnesty’s decision to decriminalise both selling and buying sex. I'm not comfortable with the phrases 'selling sex' or 'buying sex' because I'm not sure you can. Many people have written about whether you can make free choices in a patriarchal society; I'm not about to attempt to address that here but rather to focus on a parallel that Amnesty has a very clear stance on.

It suddenly occurred to me that a valid comparison can be made between the sex industry and the arms trade.  For the sake of ease, let’s say all weapons are guns.  Putting in caveats about ‘responsible gun ownership’ doesn’t stop people being murdered, moreover, it normalises something that is damaging to society.  Men like to own guns, it makes them feel powerful. Unpicking that is difficult, and the gun lobby are awfully pushy.   
People, including poor people in poor countries, make money from manufacturing guns.  Should we deny them a livelihood? I wonder if Amnesty will now declare their support for the arms industry?