On women only train carriages

I often utilise women only spaces (officially ones or unofficial ones) to avoid harassment in public & at social events (toilets, gyms, kitchens at parties, clothes shops) and, you know what? It works. The issue of public transport is the issue of choice. Now, it would be real simple if you and your buddies could make the honourable choice to stop flexing your metaphorical members in a cat call-off on a Friday night, but my experience has concluded that you can’t. So the idea of women only coaches on trains and tubes (proposed for consultation with women by Jeremy Corbyn) is one simple (by no means 100% solve-all option to give women a choice to be in a carriage with no men in it. Now, whilst there may be problems with this idea (that would be useful  for women to discuss together) men have taken to twitter to air their disgust at this policy idea. 

I have been harassed on public transport since the age of 14. Telling me that this ‘could easily happen to men’ even though it doesn’t is telling me that I, at age 14 on the train from Southport to Appley Bridge deserved to be cornered and & have middle aged men interrogate me about body.

Because the truth of the matter is in the last eleven years I have grown to expect to be sexually harassed and assaulted on public transport with very little support from other passengers. And when that support comes it is usually from other women.

Every time I have been harassed on public transport it has been (to my knowledge) by a man 99.9% of these instances the man has been white 99.9% of instance he has been unchallenged.

-It was a man who repeatedly tried to touch me on an empty platform in Liverpool when I was 21.

-It was a man who harassed me on a weekly basis on the 395 bus from Ormskirk to Skelmersdale, who got annoyed when I refused to speak to him and followed me part of the way home when I was 19.

-It was a man who rubbed his genitals on my hip on the London Underground when I was 18.

-It was a man who intercepted another man who was drunkenly propositioning me at Ormskirk bus station only to then sexually harass me for the entire journey home when I was 22. Imagine that- getting sexually harassed whilst you’re being sexually harassed.

-It was a group of boys (age 12-16) who spat at me, threw food and drinks at me & chanted names at me every morning on the school bus in Shevington when I was 14.

-It was a man who touched my body without my consent on the 143 bus in Manchester when I was 23. And who got the funny looks when I shouted over to my friend  ‘Ew this man is trying to grope me’? Oh yeah, me.

-It was a man who rubbed his thigh against my leg and read over my shoulder on the bus last night.

-It was a group of four men who made comments about my fat body this morning at the coach station.

I am 25.

I have been spat at, cornered, followed, groped, shouted at, whispered to, blocked from moving, stared at, spoken about, had pictures taken of me, been called names, been coerced into conversation, been sexually shamed & had my belongings confiscated.

I have tried ignoring it, challenging, discussing it, reporting it, shouting back, glaring, asking other passengers for help & physical confrontation.

Any whilst it might hurt a few feelings for men who have decided that this is ‘segregation’ (which is not only pretty flagrant use of a racially charged word but just horrifically incorrect) or that ‘all carriages should be harassment free’ (yeah, they should, but erm, they aren’t & I don’t see you looking up from your copy of the Telegraph to challenge other men on their behaviour) I can’t help but feel cheated.

Yet again men’s views are privileged above women’s safety and autonomy. That same privilege that comes into play when a man decides his desire to touch a woman comes before her permission. Your feelings are hurt?  Your FEELINGS are hurt. Fine. That doesn’t make your beliefs correct. This isn’t Dawson’s Creek. This is the real world. And I have a life time of research called ‘Being a Woman on Public Transport’ to support my ideas.

So I’m sorry if the idea that women want to be safe from the daily barrage of crap you throw at us is hurtful. It seems so many of you are moved to tweet, maybe whilst on public transport, maybe whilst ignoring the awkwardness of a woman being harassed three seats down.

I am tired of pretending to be on the phone, pretending to know other women on public transport to defuse harassment situations and most of all I am tired of pretending to care about your feelings. Close your legs,  get your hand off my thigh, log off twitter and shut up.

Guest Blog- Alex Prestage's Statement on Sexism at the Womens Ambassador's Solidarity Address

Conference,

I hate that I have to address this, however I feel I cannot leave it unsaid:

This afternoon [20th April] I witnessed the derailing of the Women’s Ambassador’s Solidarity address. This derailing came in the way of foregrounding “men’s issues” in a space specifically designated for those who do not define as women to hear about issues pertaining to the Women’s Campaign. The address by was an opportunity for allies to present themselves and to show our solidarity with women’s liberation. In the ensuing aftermath of the address there was little solidarity to be seen.

Jo Johnson gave us, those that do not define as women, a chance to co-operate and reach a greater level of understanding of the oppression that Women face; in day to day life, and apparently at conference. Instead patriarchy struck again.

After presumably listening to the address, covering the basics of feminist principles, and the floor was opened to questions the men in the room continued to side-line women’s liberation. Rather than discuss key issues of Rape Culture and slut shaming we heard about men’s struggle with HIV and the Blood Ban – each already discussed on conference floor that very day, and each not specific to men. It was the silencing of women’s issues that, as a feminist – ally or not – infuriated me, the persistent whining about “Men’s Caucus” despite being given a position on the matter, the aggressive nature and tone of some of the questions, the gang-like mentality a few of the audience adopted truly fucking sickened me.

The knowing, or unknowing sabotage of the address demeaned and undermined Women’s continuing struggle to fight sexism and oppression by the hands of a Patriarchal society. The attendance of the address was disappointing in itself – it should not be left to a few Feminist Allies to aide and support Women in their liberation, and conference I assure you there were Allies present. However, their efforts were drowned in a sea of misbegotten “oppression”. I would like to thank the allies present; as I am sure the women’s campaign would also, it would be wrong to not recognise their efforts.

I will leave you with one final message:

Gentlemen, check your fucking privilege.

Phat resources on Fat Shaming, Body Positivity and Self Acceptance.

 

A lot of people have messaged me to ask questions about my post on fat shaming and body image to ask questions. There are loads of resources out there. I'm going to list a few here. :) 

What it's all about- wikipedia

If you have tumblr the body positive tag is always fun- http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/bodypositive

And here are some other tumblrs you might like-
Fat Art
Body Positivity
Fat Grrrl Activism
Body Posi
Redefining Body Image Post
Big Fat Feminist
It Gets Fatter (For fat queer people of colour)  

If you want things on facebook-  
Body Positive Image Campaign

For twitter- 
Fat Positive Tag
Body Positive Tag
Fat Positive Hulk

Google image that shit. 

Asortment of websites and blogs-
Body Shaming Article 
http://fiercefatties.com/
Fat Liberation Manifesto 
Recognising body shaming 
Top 50 Self Acceptance blogs
Fat Feminism
The most highly rated fat acceptance books
Fat positive youtube videos
Ways to deal with body shaming 
On raunch culture and body image 

I'm happy to answer questions etc, but a lot of answers will be found in these resources! :)

Just the view of some ‘big fat bitch’? Body Elitism and Me

  So I’m thirteen, on the bus to a school I joined three months ago and I’m trying not to cry. Yes, three months, that’s enough time for the boys in my school to work out I didn't have any ‘hard’ siblings and notice I was a ‘big fat bitch’. This I was used to, and scary as the thought is, this is what I expected. On this particular day what I didn't expect was for all the boys on the bus to have gone to the bakery. What I didn't expect was for one of them to hit me in the face with cream cakes to the joyous chorus of ‘FATTY! FATTY! FATTY!’ What I didn't expect was for one of them to spit in my face. I didn't expect that. I didn't expect them to throw half-full coke cans at the back of my head.

By the age of thirteen, I had internalised how undesirable, unattractive and unacceptable society found (and still finds) ‘fat’ people to such a degree, I expected verbal abuse. In fact, I remember scolding myself, for crying. I told myself ‘You should be used to this by now.’ I did this right through my teens, continually repeated the messages society taught me. I told myself I was disgusting because I had stretch marks, unlovable because I couldn’t control my own body. At seventeen I was diagnosed with a thyroid condition, the main symptom being ‘weight gain’. I remember wishing I could go back though my life and tell every person who had sneered, laughed or shouted at me for my weight, about my condition. Five years on, I know that the problem isn’t fat or slim; the problem is in my head. The problem is in your head. The problem is on the television, in-between the pages of magazines.

This culture of ideals, this construction of ‘perfect’ is even more prevalent in today’s youth, and with the rise of plastic surgery, body shaming and positively poisonous gender-norms, it continues to rise. My story isn’t unusual. There are thousands of others from women and men who are labelled as unattractive because they’re overweight. There are stories from people who have suffered because, they’re told they are too thin, too fat, have the wrong hair colour, or posture, or facial features, or are too pale, or too dark.

This is body elitism, the fact that we are taught ‘what’ and ‘who’ is attractive. Body elitism is the idea that one kind of body is superior, it’s the resulting label of bodies that don’t completely fit in between those narrow lines inferior as ‘ugly’ or ‘wrong’.  Today, rather than saying, ‘my body is wrong for a reason’ I’m saying ‘a body cannot be ‘wrong’’. A body is made up of flesh, veins, skin, and muscle. Bodies are diverse; bodies can be healthy or unhealthy. Bodies have different abilities, different uses. If a body exists, it is not ‘wrong’. What is the point in deciding one is ‘better’ than another?

The truth is that even capitalism, the economic system that thrives on our  prescribed inferiority complexes and sells us the products that can cure ‘imperfections’, (boost skin, decrease wrinkles, re-energise tired looking bags,) even this machine of consumption, that sells us this ‘superior’ body, doesn’t 100% know what exactly this body looks like. It comes as no surprise that the major companies that sell tanning products to women in the west, sell skin-bleaching products to women in the east. It does come as a surprise that big toiletry companies try to sell products with campaigns about ‘real’ women, as if we should be thankful that they aren't using the kind of bodies this culture deemed ‘superior’ in the first place.

When I think about this, I get angry. But I’m angry at the culture itself, I’m angry at the way people are forced to hate themselves, not at women who fit into the ‘superior’ category. This is where I draw an important line, because most of us can recognise how we shouldn’t feel inferior for being fat/thin/having different facial features. (Although that doesn’t necessarily mean that we don’t). What I’ve found increasingly troubling is this rhetoric of ‘real’ women (as if there is such a thing). Now, it seems, those who sell us are insecurities are trying to sell our differences, too. Now we’re told that ‘‘real’ women have curves’. ‘Real women have meat on their bones’.  

Now we’re taught that rather than challenge the idea that one body is inferior on the basis of specific characteristics, we should challenge other women. ‘Bigger women’ have been told (and some embraced the idea) that other women, judged in the same society, oppressed by the same narrow guidelines of ‘attractiveness’ are the direct enemy to their body autonomy. I’ve seen this warped idea play out in several social situations, from other ‘bigger’ friends saying things like ‘(Slim girl) might be thin, but she’s really ugly’ or ‘(Slim girl) has a body like a child, she’s not even like a woman’. Most horrifyingly, I’ve seen it play out when a relative said of ‘anorexics’; ‘It’s the way they think, they hate us’ and continued to insult them on the basis of their condition.

No!

Just stop.

Like everyone else in this distorted reality, people who suffer from anorexia are taught to hate themselves.

What can stop this slaughter, this construct that is literally killing people? Well I don’t have all the answers, but it’s my belief that thorough and far reaching social change would ignite a process of women collectively shunning these prescriptive standards. I believe the media and corporations being owned by the people would result in media and businesses that work for people not profits at any cost. These things I believe, but some things I know.

 I know that my struggle against body elitism is more than giving the finger to people who walk past me and sneer or laugh. I know that I never want anyone to have to be bullied like I was for their appearance. But more than this, I know that other women, other people are not my enemy, because no matter how ‘pretty’, ‘skinny’ or healthy another person is, they are still judged, every day. I wouldn’t wish my experiences on them, and I certainly don’t blame them for my suffering. If I want liberation from constrictive body ideals, I want it for everyone, regardless of shape, race, ability, facial features and regardless of whether society sees them as ‘prettier’ than me.