The Truly Offensive 'F' Word

Over the past couple of months I've had numerous discussions about issues relating to my embryonic thesis - rape, sexual violence, inequality, patriarchy etc - with a number of very good friends, each of whom has seemed shocked at the fact I used the 'f' word to describe myself.

I am a feminist.

I understand that the term 'feminist' means very different things to many people. A postcard I picked up in Oxfam today read:

"Feminism encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practise witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians." Pat Robertson, US Politician, 1992.

Yeah, ninety-two.

For me, Feminism is the acceptance of an ideology which promotes the equal political, social, economic, religious, legal and sexual rights of women and men. It does not mean that I hate men; instead, I argue that men themselves suffer from the effects of patriarchy. Patriarchy entrenches a gender binary which is portrayed as 'natural' by it's derivation from the notion of sex. Because I fit the 'natural', 'medical' definition of a woman, I am expected to embrace that identity and work within it. For men, they must adhere to the societal norm of the 'macho' - they will wear 'men's' clothes, they will engage in 'men's' activities. A man in a boob tube and hotpants, cross-stitching is something to ridicule and thus bring into line. For those who do not fit into the narrow binary of male-female, there is the pressing concern of choice. Someone must make a choice as to which gender they will be, because society cannot deal with anyone who accepts their identity as intersex. Every citizen will adhere to the gender chosen for them, and although this has some flexibility in modern Britain - I was able to walk into a shop and buy men's shoes without too big an issue, for example - there is certainly a bias towards women in that respect. A man who walks into a woman's shoe department is judged, often severely, and labelled for that. As a feminist, I believe that working against the patriarchy which perpetuates this binary is beneficial for men and women alike.

Another issue that crops up is the fact that Feminists were A-OK during the Suffragette movement, and back in the '60s but in the year 2010 women enjoy equal rights with men. This myth is one of my biggest bug-bears because it lulls the modern woman into a false sense of security. The law may say that women and men will be paid equally for the same work, but the law does not take into account the disproportionate number of women engaged in part-time employment because they have caring responsibilities. The law also perpetuates the image of the woman as primary care-giver for children, with inequality in maternity/paternity leave. Heaven forbid a couple who wish to co-parent. I have read about female academics in the US taking off their wedding ring to attend a job interview because married women are less likely to be employed as they might want to start a family in the near future, causing the male powers that be to find maternity cover and then she'll probably want to go part-time and we'll just have to go through the hiring process all over again. Married male academics are encouraged to wear a ring because they might want to start a family soon and that means that he's settled and committed. 2 women a week are killed by their partner and there is a call made to the police regarding domestic abuse every minute. I've written extensively about the issue of rape and legal inequalities so have a look at Why Frape isn't Funny and Repressed Ranting for further details on that.

Aside from that is the issue of women in other countries who suffer the most horrific forms of injustice and abuse. I've written before about the statistic that a Pakistani woman is raped every hour, every second rape is an attack on a minor and every fourth a gang rape. The situation in the Democratic Republic of Congo has also been mentioned in some of my posts. This week, a series of articles in the Guardian made me weep. The first contained one of the most appalling statistics I've ever come across. A South African woman is more likely to be raped than to learn to read. I cannot even comprehend what that statement means, let alone get my head around the case it mentions of a 7 year old girl gang raped at school by a 9 year old and two 11 year old boys. The second cites that 37.4% of men surveyed admitted to rape. Over a third.

I am a feminist because I refuse to stand back and convince myself that the world has become enlightened about women's issues and become equal. I am a feminist because I believe in a fair and equal society where everyone can express themselves as they wish without fear of ridicule or reprisals. I am a feminist because I believe that no-one should be fearful of their safety in their homes and on the streets.

I am a feminist because if I am not, I am refusing my own voice and the voices of women across the world unable to speak.

I am a feminist, and I am proud.

I Heart Baher Ibrahim

Linked for being absolutely right: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/belief/2010/nov/23/muslim-girls-wearing-hijab (This trend of young Muslim girls wearing the hijab is disturbing).

I can say no more than well done Baher Ibrahim and again resign myself to the fact that those who comment on the Guardian may cultivate an intellectual liberal image but in reality tend to be bigoted muppets.

The Law is an Ass - Where is my Shotgun?

I was astounded and pretty upset to read this article yesterday: http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2010/nov/08/rape-case-woman-appeal.

A woman in Wales has been sentenced to 8 months in prison for perverting the course of justice by retracting a rape allegation against her husband. Reporting her husband had raped her 6 times, the woman withdrew the allegations a few months later, before again contacting the police to assert that the attacks had actually taken place. She claimed that her husband had been emotionally blackmailing her during the breakdown of their marriage, causing her to retract her initial allegations.

The police did not respond with any attempt to ensure the woman's safety and stability in the aftermath of a pretty hellish period. No. They arrested her instead.

What. The. Hell?

I obviously know only the details of the case which have been made public, and one cannot discount the possibility that the woman was making the claims up all along. However, that is besides the point - by imprisoning this woman, the police force have further kicked a boot into any woman that has been raped. I've blogged about the appalling statistics regarding rape conviction before, but it is important to remind ourselves that there are wider issues. Definitions of rape as commonly held by society are shockingly narrow: rape is the pretty young girl walking home alone at night and attacked by a barbaric stranger. But we forget that rape is:

- the woman who has been drugged, or plied with alcohol until paralytic and taken advantage of

- the elderly woman in a care home who suffers at the hands of her carer

- the wife forced to comply with her husband's wishes

- the girlfriend coerced into sex with the threat of damaging rumours

- the woman who has been consistently demoralized by her partner until she "consents"

- the prostitute who hasn't been paid

- the porn star who has been belittled and objectified until she has no control over her own sexuality

(Rape is obviously not just a male on female phenomenon, male on male and female on male rape do occur, and I take my hat off to those who study them, but my work is primarily male on female so forgive the one-sided bias.)

Society often ignores these victims - in some cases she meets the legal definition of licit sexual intercourse - she has "consented". But how can a woman consent if she is not in a position where she can give it, where she has no ownership of her own sexuality, when she is threatened by unspoken violence, when she has consented to marry this person, when she cannot withdraw that consent? Juries come to their verdicts on the basis of their own poorly-understood definitions of rape, and the law gives weight to this. A woman in fear of her life may 'consent' to save her life, but that is still rape.

Rape law across the country (and as I will argue, the world) needs to be overhauled. Consent is a flawed notion which holds no water. Rape is sexual activity forced upon a woman, where force may include but is not limited to violence, coercion and threats.

If we are to give this ridiculous situation the backing of the law then of course women won't report that they have been raped to the police. Already minuscule conviction rates will fall and those who do report will be wary of the possible outcomes. In the emotionally fragile time after being attacked, a woman should not have to weigh up whether it is worthwhile to report it to the police.

We are only a step away from the appalling situation in countries like Pakistan, where the infamous Safia Bibi case gained worldwide attention from human rights advocates. A 13 year old blind servant, Safia Bibi was gang raped by her master and his son, an attack which resulted in pregnancy. Upon reporting the rape, her pregnancy was accepted as evidence of her partaking in illicit extra-marital sexual relations whilst her attackers were released on the basis of lack of evidence. How can we be outraged by cases like this when we are committing the same offence against women?! The Pakistan Human Rights Commission released figures displaying the appalling truth - a woman in Pakistan is raped every 3 hours, every second is a minor and every fourth is gang-raped. I repeat, rape law must be overhauled.

In better news, I was very pleased to read that the government have dropped plans to introduce anonymity for those accused of rape. Anonymity is fine if it is applied to all those accused in criminal proceedings, but to single out rape cases, where the majority of victims are female is to display institutional distrust in the word of women. Unacceptable.

Every one of these stories betrays the ugly truth - women are not protected by the law and are distrusted by wider society. The law is an ass which needs to be put out of it's misery for all of our sakes. Now find me my shotgun and I'll get us started.

Big Foot's Love Child

What would life be like if this guy was your father?:

You'd have all the opportunity required to take some grainy images of him, sell them on to crackpots and keep a steady flow of income coming for the rest of his life. Brilliant, huh?

Well, no. Likelihood is the inheritance of some of his features - a rather luxuriant all-over coat might work for a week or two as a copy of 'that darling designer coat on the cover of vogue' but after that it might prove an issue. Think of the shampoo costs. And the hair down the plug hole situation. Eww. Anyhoo, I digress.

The reason I come to spending my Friday evening googling Big Foot pictures? Because it would seem that I am the love child of our furry friend, at least according to EVERYONE in the shoe industry.

I don't have the hair issue. At least I don't think so. If I seem to have a rather worrying amount of hair going on, please tell me! No, I have the big feet problem.

They might not be on a level with these babies, but my - shock, horror, gasp! - size 9 feet seem to have provoked a reaction of revulsion and disbelief amongst the shoe-sellers of Edinburgh., Seriously, when I enquired as to what size one well-respected shoe chain go up to, my high-pitched reaction - "Eight in some styles?! Some styles?"- and the shop assistant's look of horror at my shoe size put paid to the overly cheery 'How can I help you' before I'd even had time to clap eyes on a shoe. Traipsing from shop to shop, it would seem that all they have on offer in the women's shoe section is some faux-crocodile skin three-inch heeled thigh high boots. Since I would rather chop my toes off than squeeze myself into those atrocities, I was left with damp feet. Buying a cheap and appalling quality pair of brogues - as they were literally the only thing I could get on my feet in the entirety of Edinburgh I began a search for what I could get on the internet. Result? Stripper shoes.

http://www.vivaladiva.com/shop/product/details/show.action?pdLpUid=RV595&pdBoUid=2719&lpgUid=11188744#colour:1904,size:42

Seeing my cause to be lost, even to the unimaginable powers of the internet, I raided the men's section of M & S. And there I was faced with the undeniable difference in the philosophy underpinning men and women's shoes: masculinity is assured by making one's feet look gigantic; femininity is assured by making one's feet look tiny and delicate.

So my final conclusion is that we should bring back the binding of little girl's feet.

Oh wait, no it's not. Because that would be unbelievably stupid.

My actual final conclusion is that the shoe industry needs to get over the ideology that women's feet should be delicate wee flowers and take note that my feet exist and deserve to be shod!

Zombie Sheep and Beelzebub's Dinner: Why Frape Isn't Funny

It was all going so well. I was idly scanning my facebook feed this afternoon when my head exploded. What could cause such a reaction? Surely nothing as innocuous as a word?

WRONG.

There are quite a few words that make me shudder, scream and turn a teeny-weeny bit violent. Use the word 'banter' and I'll squirm. Use the word 'bants', as one EUSA hopeful did a couple of elections back and I will hunt you down and punch you in the face. You have been warned.

But nothing, I repeat NOTHING, gets me more riled than the word 'frape'.

I blogged about how Jane Austen is languishing in a special level of hell, but I swear whoever came up with the 'f' word is being repeatedly dipped in molten lava and toasted at Gas Mark 8 billion and 64 as the devil's own plaything. If not I'll personally drag them there.

Whoever thought that having your status hacked to say something silly was in any way comparable to the ordeal of rape victims, even in jest, deserves to have their intestines pumped full of angry killer bees and their toes nibbled off by zombie sheep before being finished off with a sprig of rosemary by Beelzebub. A number of good friends have used it before, not out of malice but as it has become an acceptable and even funny term. For those who take up the 'f' term, it may be unthinking ignorance, but please, for the love of all things holy, think about it. You wouldn't think it funny to post a racist term and I don't see any difference here. Not to mention my 1 strike and you're defriended policy.

But it doesn't end with 'frape'. Sexual assault is now the subject of some 'hilarious' comic routines (as discussed in the Guardian article "The Rise of the Rape Joke" accessible at http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/sep/10/rape-jokes-in-comedy).

Society must fight against the incipient attitude that rape isn't serious, that rape is funny and we should laugh at it.

It is estimated that between 1 in 3 and 1 in 4 women will experience rape in her lifetime, a figure which is considered conservative, with an estimated 75-85% of rapes never reported. In Pakistan, the Human Rights Commission estimates that a woman is raped every every 3 hours, every second victim is a minor and every fourth the victim of gang rape. Many victims have been ostracized, punished by the legal system, and even felt that the only response was suicide. In Congo, only now are we beginning to hear the outrage of the international community at the mass rape of over 300 women, some over 80, as well as babies. "Most of the survivors say they were gang-raped, by two to six assailants." (From a Guardian article, accessible at http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/aug/24/congo-rebels-rape-un-rwanda). Conviction rates worldwide are pathetic, and woman are repeatedly being failed by legal definitions, medical professionals and police. NUS statistics state that 1 in 7 female students has been sexually assaulted. Pretty much every woman has been made to feel uncomfortable and threatened by the sexual behaviour of (generally) a man. Who hasn't been groped in a club, or been frightened whilst walking on their own? As a woman big enough and ugly enough to defend myself, not to mention sober enough, I have been able to get out of these situations, but others aren't so lucky. How dare we make light of their plight?!

I urge you to boycott usage of the word 'frape'.

Wet shirts, Incest and Interminable Monologues: Why Jane Austen is Doomed to the 7th Pit of a Fiery Hell

A man in a sodden ruffled shirt doesn't do much for me. I don't think it ever did. However, for many, it has become the iconic scene of a BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. I believe that this is a bit of poetic license on the part of the producers, but I can't know because my mind has blocked all details of Pride and Prejudice from my mind in an attempt to sand-bag my brain from the rot of simpering, marriage obsessed heroines.

Three years ago, I ploughed my way through the inane ramblings of Ms Austen. After all, shouldn't every educated woman list an Austen novel as her favourite book? At first I thought my dislike of the book was a flaw of my own, I wasn't smart enough to appreciate the writing or not romantically-inclined enough to identify with the protagonists. I tried and I tried and I tried to get to grips with Austen. Perhaps it was just Pride and Prejudice that I didn't get on with. So I tried Emma. Just as bad. Sense and Sensibility? Senseless. Mansfield Park? Seriously, incest ain't sexy.

Ah, but it's just a quirk of the time, I hear you say.

Fair enough, but for books taken as the pinnacle of romance, that's a message that makes me vomit a wee bit in my mouth.

And then the writing style... Goodness me there have been telephone books which read better.

But all of this pales in comparison to the realisation I finally came to. There's nothing wrong with me because I don't like Austen, but the societal pressure for young women to like her novels. They aren't very well written and they do go on (and on and on and on and, well you get the picture). But that isn't reason enough to decry Austen - my bug bear is that Austen has become the pinnacle of 'female literature'and their underlying message a stick with which to beat women. Her books have soppy, simpering women devoting ALL of their time to finding a husband, and finding every other woman a husband too, and that is what educated women should aspire to. Women will idealize romance, whilst men can read whatever they want, the very basis of a huge amount of inequality worldwide.

Well screw you Austen, and societal pressure, because you will burn in my imaginary hell.

Repressed Ranting

***Warning - the following post deals with some pretty traumatic subject matter. Not all are recommended to read on.***

I like to see myself as a vaguely rational person who will accept different viewpoints and embraces academic debates. Without debate we will never learn anything, so I will listen to you, even if I then spend 20 minutes banging the desk and yelping 'ABSOLUTELY NOT' across the room.

That was before Palmer.

Over a fruitful cup of tea with Nikki today, we discussed my list of academics I have issues with. I didn't need to think very long to figure out who hits the number 1 spot : Craig Palmer.

Back in the days of yore, when younger, inexperienced me shivered in the cold December wind, working tirelessly on le dissertation by candlelight... Ok, back in December when I was researching chapter 1 of my dissertation - the legal status of women in Pakistan (specifically in terms of rape legislation) since Zia's Islamization programme was introduced - I was searching through books and journals to familiarize myself with the main debates in what I came to call 'rape theory'.

Susan Brownmillar's argument that rape is an exercise in power has been at the pinnacle of debates for over 30 years, revolutionising how we thought about rape as an act of not purely sexual significance.

Continuing the debate, Palmer contributed the most heinous aberration I have ever had the misfortune to come across. 'Twelve Reasons Why Rape is Not Sexually Motivated: A Skeptical Examination' set out to put the sex back in rape. (Accessible at http://www.jstor.org.ezproxy.webfeat.lib.ed.ac.uk/stable/3812897) I am open to debates on the 'rape as power' issue, but I was not prepared for the onslaught that befell me. I will not give a full exposition of why I disliked the article, but I will highlight a few of the worst lines.

Top of the list has to be the brilliantly phrased "Only 15 to 20 per cent of rape victims required hospital treatment for physical injuries" and "only 22.7% ended up inflicting "very severe injury". That's right, only over one fifth of those psychologically traumatised, physically abused and socially stigmatised are left with very severe injury. Almost disappointing, right? If only there was a way to ensure that the attack stayed with them for life, affecting their relationships, causing lasting physical damage... Oh wait, that already does happen. Had this been a quote from a lecture I attended, I would not threaten to punch him in the face. No, I'd actually punch him in the face as hard as I could. But it's OK 'cos he isn't guaranteed to end up in the hospital so he won't be really hurt.

Other gems include: dismissing an argument because it "hinges on the assumption that a males' sexual desire is exhausted by a single "outlet"". But it's all OK because there are prostitutes and pornography for that sort of thing, which obviously isn't about the power inherent in objectification of women, oh no.

The military personnel who specifically planned attacks as a way of displaying power over the enemy weren't involved in power games. As Brownmiller argued:

Rape is considered by the people of a defeated nation to be part of the enemy’s conscious

effort to destroy them [...] men appropriate the rape of “their women” as part of their own male

anguish of defeat [...] rape by a conqueror is compelling evidence of the conquered’s status of

masculine impotence. Defense of women has long been a hallmark of masculine pride as possession

of women has been a hallmark of masculine success [...] The body of a raped woman becomes a

ceremonial battlefield, a parade ground for the victor’s trooping of the colors. (Brownmiller, 1986:38)

Rape as punishment can be sexual. Yay for rapists - exert power over women and get a kick out of it (!)

Sex doesn't need to include consideration for the other party's arousal. Good-o, because forcing a woman who clearly doesn't want it is all terribly sexual and not at all about power.

Date rape isn't really rape.

Men might experience sexual dysfunction because they are worried about punishment. What a shame. If only they weren't forcing themselves on someone else.

Rape is to be expected in the summer, y'know, with all those women out and about flaunting their bodies.

"only excessive force is a possible indication of violent motivation on the part of the rapist" - obviously rape isn't forceful at all. Oh wait, isn't that part of the blooming definition?!

Oh yeah, and only pretty people get raped. How comforting.

A well deserved number one spot on both my 'most hated academic' and 'most likely to get a punch in the face' lists - well done Craig Palmer.

The Gestation of the Mind

What an awesome title. I'm pretty proud of it, and I definitely think there should be a book with that title. Maybe there already is. Who knows?

Anyhoo, before this descends into a dull stream of consciousness, I'll get to my point. Way back in January, I set myself a few personal goals. Go on holiday (alas, one I have failed so far!), see Chris perform (achieved, and it was as awesome as I'd expected - go see for yourself in whatever he pops up in next) and to read at least 15 books. I thought 15 would be a manageable target, but one that would stop me from taking the easy route and watching some TV or what have you.

Nine months later, my mind has been conditioned, challenged and changed by the books I've read. Using my handy 'Read in 2010' list on Visual Bookshelf, I found the results interesting and thought I'd share.

(Not necessarily in chronological order and not including books purely consulted with the goal of completing my degree)

1. Women of Algiers in their Apartments - Assia Djebar
Unbelievably awesome. Back in 2009, I did a course grandly entitled 'Harems, Homes and Streets: Gender and Space in Middle Eastern Literature' and in it we touched on this. Intrigued, I read the entire book and was so challenged, moved and affected by it that I wrote an essay based on it for another class. A collection of short stories focussing on Algerian women during the Algerian-French war, Djebar critiques both the colonialist and native Algerian patriarchal representations of women, dramatically reappropriating Algerian women's bodies for Algerian women.

"Whispering, Baya translated for Anne, while she was rubbing her breasts with her hands; it was then the Frenchwoman stopped asking questions, looking at the wasted bodies around her in fascination. Arms of a masseuse, standing straight up on a marble slab, then kneeling down, encircling the body of a bather, who's face, belly, and breasts were crushed against the stone, her hair a reddish mass, her shoulders dripping with trails of wattery henna.

The masseuse opened her lips halfway, showing golden teeth that shimmered; her long, pendulous breasts were crisscrossed with little veins all the way to the tips. Under that light that came down in oblique rays from the skylight, her villager's face, aged before it's time, was turning into the mask of an oriental sorceress. The silver pendants she was wearing made a clanging sound every time her shoulders and knotted arms came sliding down on the neck and further down to the breasts of her bather [...] Stopping to catch her breath, then slowly pouring a cup of hot water over her naked bronze back, while hoarse sighs were exhaled below her."

Wow. Every time I read that section, I think about the complex interplay between Orientalist, and particularly artistic representations of 'Eastern women' in the hammam as a sensual, erotic and exotic experience, compared to the morgue-like undertones and hyper-realism of the passage. Just read it.

2. The White Tiger - Aravind Adiga

I struggled to see the hype with this one to be honest. It's a little like Zadie Smith's 'On Beauty', a nice enough book, but rather boring. The narrative style felt a little too smug-aren't-I-fabulous-breaking-away-from-traditional-prose but sticking a letter head at the start of the chapter is hardly ground-breaking.

3.The Satantic Verses - Salman Rushdie

Yeah. This was a bit of a trek to get through, especially during the stresses and strains of the final semester of 4th year. I definitely recommend reading it in as few sittings as possible, because the protracted way I read meant that I was getting rather confused about the plot! I do see where the controversy came from, although it wasn't as shocking as I was expecting. I suppose expecting shock is a bit of a paradox anyway though.

4. Yes Man - Danny Wallace

A bit of a departure from the previous 3 books, it was a nice light laugh which didn't require too much brainpower. Worth it for the wee snippet about his meeting with a monk.

5. The Parasites - Daphne du Maurier.

I love du Maurier, I truly do. 'Rebecca' will forever stand as the novel of my teenage years and I aim to collect all of du Maurier's works. The Parasites was ostensibly a rather dull reminiscing of childhood memories, but the disconcerting doubts raised in the reader's minds as we are brought deeper and deeper into the family's world is very, very well done.

6. The Sacraments and the Bible - Phil Layton

A wee book that said what I thought it would in defending the Salvation Army's position on the sacraments against what many would argue is contrary to Biblical teaching. Worth 30 mins.

7. The Alchemist - Paul Coelho

A graduation gift and a very quick read, I found the thinly veiled self-help philosophy a little grating and would rather the book would pick the plot of self-help and run with it rather than the absurd conflation of the two.

8. The Arabian Nights

A long read, at over 800 pages it gave the narrative frame of Sheherezade using her story-telling skills to save her live, along with a selection of the tales. I loved the mixture of genres on offer, there are moralistic tales, dramatic tales, comedic tales, adventure tales... I'm still intrigued as to the conflicting representations of women in the story and the tales will stay with me.

9. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

Recommended by Camilla, I had steadfastly steered clear of WH because it was written by a Bronte. Way back in 6th year, I compared the contributions of du Maurier's 'Rebecca' and Charlotte Bronte's 'Jane Eyre' to the feminist canon. 'Rebecca' was awesome, gave a portrayal of a woman consistently beaten down by men and a woman who will do anything possible, in life or in death, to get one up on a man. 'Jane Eyre' was an interminable whine of appalling monologues, ridiculous coincidences and the always vomit-inducing 'readers, I married him' comment.

As such, I had avoided the Bronte's like the plague, but I finally decided to rise above and goodness me I am glad. A decent plot, a good mystery, one heck of a romance and not a single character made teeth-achingly sweet. This was a proper romance, violent, passionate, confusing...

10. Appropriating Gender: Women's Activism and Politicized Religion in South Asia - Patricia Jeffrey

The start of my NLS journey, 'Appropriating Gender' hammered home the sexualized and gendered way women, and particularly Muslim women, relate to their nations and states. Women's sexuality is controlled and utilized for the purposes of the state. Fascinating.

11. May on Motors - James May

A quick and easy read, with a few giggles.

12. The Limits of Bodily Integrity (Law, Justice and Power) - Ruth A. Miller'

Particularly fascinating to read after 'Appropriating Gender' this book opened my eyes to a whole new way of thinking. Her discussion of Foucauldian biopolitics, with particular reference to the womb, blew my mind. I don't necessarily agree with everything she said, but it has given me a whole new framework in which to consider my chosen topic.

13. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life - Emile Durkheim

Having studied for 4 years, certain theorists will keep coming back like a case of herpes. Instead of fighting it, I decided to actually consider these theories in their full texts rather than as the detached and abstract notions I knew them as. Durkheim has obviously been hugely influential within RS, and I do feel like I have more of a grip on his ideas now, but I found the fact that I was rather unprepared for the book to spend so much time detailing how the Australian tribes demonstrate this (with what we now know to be flawed anthropological information) to be rather tiresome and made completion of this book take FOREVER.

14. The Ritual Process - Victor Turner

As above, really. Liminality is one of the more classic theories I still consider relevant and useful, although there was nothing really new to learn by reading the entire text.

15. Toward a Feminist Theory of the State - Catharine MacKinnon

Love, love, LOVE a thousand times over. My last blog about squeeworthy moments - credit belongs to this lady. Her examination of how sexuality is socially constructed and the mass ignorance surrounding this has led to a number of discussions about how we define sexuality, and has prompted a serious consideration of my own definition. Her piercing critique of rape law as 'with force without consent' has transformed my way of thinking about rape as a crime and built up rage against the male legislators who will continue to write laws which are illogical and dangerous, as well as perpetuating the notion that there is a clear and objective line between licit sexual activity and rape is something which I will struggle with for years to come.

Well, there you go - you've seen how my ideas have been built up from a cluster of confused beginnings, to a proper thesis-baby (though still not ready to survive on paper) as well as the lighter, or at least non-academic, relief I've awarded myself with.

Things That Make Me Squee...

Tea. Obviously.

Cake. Also pretty obvious.

Not being homeless. Definitely loving that.

Family.

Friends.

Finding someone with a theory which complements my own thoughts. As fun as persistently debunking phenomenology as a dangerous and irrelevant methodology was, it's also good to find someone with whom I can agree. I was a bit worried that I had a massively skewed mind, because I'd spent so long reading articles, books and theories that were, for want of a better term, complete rubbish.

In my research over the Summer I've actively had to stop myself from loudly squeeing in the National Library of Scotland at some of the work I've come across. Consent theory is so flawed that definitions of consensual sex are misleading and dangerous for women? Yep, agree with that. Foucauldian biopolitical understandings of the womb have contributed to the extended control women's bodies are subjected to? Pretty self-evident if you ask me. Definitions of sexuality have been formulated on male terms, further entrenching women's inferior position at even the most intimate level and making rape impossible to define and hence to legislate against? Absolutely true.

No funding troll can strangle the academic squee within.

Funding Saga Part II: The Troll Shows Who is Boss

Yeah, the troll won. There was a tiny moment where I had him confused, a bit like when Ron sticks his wand up the troll's nostril in Harry Potter, but I was defeated. Well, given a bit of bruising.

The 5 grand fees of Edinburgh require one to dig a hole of debt so deep that my thesis would be burned up in the heat of the Earth's core, so that was out. Then came a last minute 'what-the-heck' application to Cardiff Uni for their course looking at Islam in Contemporary Britain. Although it was a little outside what I had anticipated, the content of the course looked relevant (a dirty word to some academics) and purposeful. A short while later, one ridiculously nice e-mail from a lecturer there and the quickest scholarship application you ever did see, I was shortlisted and had an interview in Cardiff. A day-trip ensued (never, ever, EVER take a day-trip to Wales folkies. Just don't. Make it a proper holiday) which entailed four hours in the city, including the time set aside for interview and I left sure that I had been unsuccessful.

I was right.

However, the feedback from the scholarship committee was so positive and constructive that I feel the 5am start wasn't wasted. Yes it means I can't study this year and that makes me sad. Really, really sad. But I am only 21 after all, and I haven't experienced life outwith full-time education since I was 4 so this opportunity could be rather formative. I will work away at my job (which I am *loving*), take the advice of the committee and get some practical voluntary experience with the Muslim community under my belt (something I'm really excited about!) and, best of all, I will study in my own time. This way I can mature my ideas in the direction I want to take them, and see where that all ends up for funding applications early next year!

On the topic of my self-study, I had a bit of an epiphany this week when I was in the NLS. It was one of those moments where I get so excited that it actually requires a concerted effort to not squee very loudly at the fact that what this person is saying is so true, is something I've often thought and fits into my work perfectly! Yay!

STEM vs TheoDoReS

No, I'm not diving into the murky depths of a stem cell debate, but I'm having another moan about funding in Higher Education.

STEM, for the uninitiated, stands for Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics. All very worthy subjects which have borne studies with terribly practical applications. Excellent - I love a bit of practicality.

TheoDoReS is my utterly appalling acronym for the area in which I work: Theology, Divinity and Religious Studies. For the majority of the population, the second category has no practical application, other than providing someone who will bury you and will look after 'that nice church on the corner that I'd love to have my wedding at because it would look lovely in the 'photos'.

Every single RS or Divinity student will have experienced the following scenario:

In taxi/talking to stranger/in doctor's surgery etc: What is it you do?
RS/Div: I'm a student.
Stranger: Ooh and what are you studying?
RS/Div: Religious Studies/Divinity (delete as applicable)
Stranger: What will you do with that then?!
(RS/Div feels that sinking sensation, because they know what is coming next)
Stranger: Are you going to become a priest/minister/nun/RE teacher?
(RS/Div attempts to strangle the scream creeping it's way up their throat)es

My point is that everyone assumes they know what these subjects entail, and even consider themselves experts in your career path. Yes some will go on to be priests, ministers, nuns and RE teachers and these are all very worthy careers in themselves. But a defence of these is not why I'm ranting into the blogosphere.

My rant was sparked by this Guardian article,http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/belief/2010/aug/13/theology-crucial-academic-subject entitled "Theology is a Crucial Academic Subject".

Ooh, controversial.

I have issues with the way the writer has chosen to take the category 'Theology and Religious Studies' as one subject. I'm not going to get all Wiebe in your face about it, but Theology and Religious Studies are different subjects. That does not mean that we should deny the vital link between the two, for then we sound the death knell for both and the importance that they stand for.

But I'm going to get really controversial here.

Divinity should continue as an academic subject. But I don't think it is crucial, at least in it's current form.

If Divinity is to be considered crucial, in my opinion, it must begin to focus on issues which do have a practical, as well as spiritual application. To truly compete on a higher footing for funding, it needs to focus on the issues that are facing the world and Christians in particular today: looking at LGBT and women's theology, considering the ethics of greed in a corporate world and reflecting on where theology stands in a multicultural society.

Call me a heathen and shoot me down, but there is only so much we can consider when we look at Aquinas for example. Of course he has influenced the above topics, and we should consider this, but for goodness' sakes, if it ain't fresh then please get over the dead guys.

If only so Religious Studies isn't tainted with the same brush...

Burkas, Bin Bags and Bans

Banning the burqa, denying permission to mosques and particularly minarets... times are hard for proponents of religious freedom just now.

The notoriously secular France dealt a blow to 'liberte, egalite, fraternite' by banning religious symbols from schools, and are currently in the process of debating legislation which makes the wearing of any item which covers the face in public an offence. (http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/today/newsid_8568000/8568024.stm) Way to go France. Of course neither of these have enforced bans only on Muslims - the first applied to all religions and the second includes motorcycle helmets etc, but the backlash against visible religious symbols is astonishing. I respect that French culture does involve the private and personal expression of religious belief, but the utterly appalling response of - "you're in France now, so you better adopt our ways" makes me MAD. The notion that what epitomises any culture was decided at a specific date and henceforth will remain completely stagnant is ludicrous. Culture adapts, adopts and changes. We should respect history and traditions, absolutely, but to entirely reject visible aspects of religious culture is plain silly.

My second complaint with the ban is of a more feminist nature, namely, that Muslim women particularly bear the brunt with an ongoing societal obsession with what women wear and what choice they have in the matter. This is not limited to Muslim women, in every women's daily life, they face criticisms about whether their clothes conform to 'fashion', align them with a subculture (e.g. 'goth'), what their clothes say about them (frumpy, slutty, ditzy) and even simple rules about what is 'female' clothing and what is 'male'. But I digress. The male-majority parliament sees fit to dictate what these women can and cannot wear in public. WHAT MAKES THEM THINK THEY HAVE THE RIGHT?! This bunch of self-important muppets have declared themselves to be the arbiters of one of the most fundamentally personal choices a woman has. Ridiculous.

Finally, the notion that the French parliament can decide what a woman can and should choose in order to express her religious devotion makes my blood boil. Some have argued that the burqa is a tradition rather than a religious duty. This is true, but it does not mean that it is seen as extraneous by women themselves. I do love the end of the article linked above where it states that women are considering taking up the burqa in face of the ban!

Julie has also reminded me of the counterpoint to this debate - how 'Islamic' countries dictate the dress of all women. For the record, I disagree with this attitude as well, for the same reasons as stated above. I also take issue with women who have been declared provocative dressers leading men into temptation, which is commonly heard across the world. If I were a man, I'd be offended by the insinuation that I was so weak a flash of ankle left me outwith the control of my senses.

Homa Hoodfar wrote a fascinating article about the changing significance of the veil, where she asserts that the veil became 'Islamic' rather than 'Iranian' upon the arrival of the Crusaders. As the two groups embarked on propaganda campaigns, North African Muslims picked up on the Crusader's equation of the veil with Islam. In Iran, the Shah's modernist regime declared wearing the veil illegal, meaning that many women refused to leave their homes at all, declaring that they felt 'naked' without it. Particularly difficult was the issue of the hammam. Society expected these women to attend the hammam for their ablutions, and non-attendance signalled issues at home. For women who refused to be seen without their veil, what was previously an independent endeavour required the help of men. The Iranian revolution turned the tables on women once more, making it illegal to not wear a veil. I love the fact that protests against this were led by women who personally chose to wear the veil, but stood up for their rights to choose. Hoodfar even cites examples of women sneaking in via bin bags. I also love her wee story about the ultimate emasculating insult - women only need to veil in the company of non-related men and so taking their veil off in front of such a man during an argument signalled that she didn't think him man enough to require a veil. SNAP!

Anyhoo, sorry for digressing again!

In summary, I am not pro- nor anti-burqa, but I respect the place of Islam in culture and the choices of women in their religious devotions.

Switzerland duly responded with a ban on minarets: (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/8385069.stm) Basically, Islam is made up of fundamentalist terrorists out to eat your babies and allowing a Muslim to build a minaret is like serving your newborn in a dish of apple sauce.

Finally, the article which sparked off this magical mystery tour through the potted mind of Gemma: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-10846716.

There have been protests at plans to build an Islamic centre (including a mosque) near the site of the 9/11 attacks. This interests me on a couple of levels: first, the obvious debate about the placing of the mosque, and secondly the way in with Ground Zero is being treated.

As for whether it is appropriate to build a Mosque on that site, I say yes. I understand why there is a debate, but for me it comes down to the fundamental issue that 9/11 wasn't Islamic. The perpetrators were not representing the majority of Muslims, their reasoning doesn't comply with Islamic doctrine and they have been roundly condemned, especially in America. Obviously I am not aware of the workings of the Cordoba Organization, but I imagine any extremism would have been picked up on by now. As such, I believe that the, frankly dangerous, equation of Islam and fundamentalism which underpins this debate is a non-argument and should be ignored.

But what really interested me was the way in which Ground Zero is described in this article. The muppet that is Sarah Palin described the plan as "an intolerable mistake on hallowed ground". The sanctification of sites of devastation is an interesting concept. In terms of being 'set apart' then Ground Zero does meet the generally accepted marker of sacred, but there is something ghoulish about it. Should we label Auschwitz a 'sacred' place, does this labelling reappropriate the scene for 'good'?

I'm unsure as to where I lie on it.

Anyway, apologies for the long and rambling nature of this post!

(Italics are edits - I forgot to write some of what I wanted to say)

Troll 1; Gemma 0

The Number 41 bus - crusher of dreams. Toddling off to Cramond Beach the other day (a lovely wee excursion which makes me yearn for the Ugie and Lido at home) I received a phone call from the bank about the meeting I was due to have yesterday. Questions were asked. Did I have my degree certificate, what about a permanent full time job offer? Erm, no. This loan is to fund my postgrad.

Oh.

Is that in Law or Medicine?

Nope.

Oh, in that case, I'm afraid we can't help you.

Yep, a loan isn't even an option now.

Am I disappointed? I was. Now I am furious.

(Disclaimer: I am really, really, REALLY mad right now, so this may be a bit disjointed and manic. That is the state of my mind right now. Also, apologies if this veers into the territory of 'painful lives' - surely the most horrific literary classification since 'chick lit' - I do realize that my life is a heck of a lot better than many other's.)

17 years. 17 years of ploughing all of my energies into learning, from learning which way the 'G' in my name should face at the age of 4 to 21 year old me considering how modern Muslim feminist literature utilises the methodology of Foucauldian inscription in order to re-appropriate female Muslims' ownership of their own bodies in comparison to Orientalist artwork and Muslim patriarchal assertions. The horrific jobs, memories of being elbow deep in horse mackerel (aka Tom Jones), the many hours spent trudging the rain splattered streets of Edinburgh with 80 Italian students in tow, always attempting to earn enough to get by. All of it was worth it to get to the point where I can study my proposed thesis - Muslim responses to sexual violence. A thesis so practical that it hurts me to see that it still isn't good enough to garner me any funding. I'm not the brightest, no, but surely a very good 2:1 (with a straight A final semester) from an excellent university, studying that topic should manage to fund their masters somehow. Even a student loan for goodness sake?

But no.

The government will espouse the importance of education, and particularly higher education until they are blue in the face. They will set ridiculous targets of 50% of young people in higher education, but they will not provide any infrastructure for postgraduate courses.

Education continues to be an elite institution. Oh, we can be fooled by the supposedly 'universal' further and higher education, and the sprinkling of scholarships allow one to be fooled that it is a meritocracy. But, fundamentally, lack of financial backing is a weight dragging every low-income student down. At undergraduate level, the necessity of taking up paid employment decreases the available studying time and often means that extracurricular activities are a dream that lies far from reach. Opportunities for travel are limited, meaning that knowledge of other cultures is at a premium - obviously not brilliant for a Religious Studies student. There is a desperate game of catch up where they need to learn so much in their own time to reach the level where their better educated fellow students. My first lecture at New College - peppered with 'deontology' and 'Kant's categorical imperative' left me feeling like someone had punched me in the face with a fuzzy, floral velveteen Ethicist with illusions of academic grandeur.

And then the postgraduate abyss where only law and medicine are seen as acceptable reasons to continue studying, where the disdain for arts and humanities, makes my sensitive wee soul cry.

Oh to want a normal job...

What do you do when you meet a Troll?

I've always thought of myself as a pretty straightforward kinda gal. Decisions come along, tap me on the shoulder and I consider all options before making my choice. Alas, it would seem that this quality has deserted me when most required.

About a year and a half ago, I had a niggle. Just under the surface something was brewing that would blow my plans out of the water. Instead of the sensible route of teaching, which suited me so well, I wanted MORE. Yup, I got a bit greedy and wanted to learn more, to teach at a higher lever; in short, I wanted to do a postgrad.

Dun dun DUN!

After months of suppressing these desires, I began to make progress in making my dream happen. I researched options, funding issues and consulted with staff. Applications happened. Offers were made. It was all going swimmingly and I'd made it to the bridge to postgrad land. Alas, under that bridge lived the Funding Troll(tm). Funding Troll(tm) is grumpy, greedy and (in my head anyway) green monster lurking to suck the momentum out of potential postgrads. For both courses I had one main source of funding, which would cover fees and living costs. Time ticked by and I found that I didn't receive either of these, so I was left with a rather unpalatable decision - continue with my plans and self fund through loans (aka selling one's soul to the bank) or find a job (which in the current climate is basically selling one's soul to a private corporation).

So I considered.

I thought.

I debated.

I asked for advice.

And what was I left with? A decision as hard as it was in the first place.

I am currently leaning towards the debt option, but that all lies in the hands of the bank advisor I'm off to see on Wednesday.

(EEK!)

Da Hood, Innit?

For your delight and delectation - the best photo of me I've found. Embrace the slightly bewildered smile, the awkward pose and the ridiculous manner in which I'm clutching the degree tube . What a tube I am.

(Also, be proud of me for managing to get this picture up!)

Graduand No More...

... for I am a GRADUATE!

I robed up, clumped up a ramp, was whacked on the head with a bunnet made from John Knox's britches and clapped for others. A lot.

I found the whole experience to be rather stressful actually. Minute directions throughout Edinburgh, a dash for robes, being made to sit through photos, skipping lunch, dealing with the partners of my parents, dashing up and down to New College for returning my robes... I didn't get a chance to properly reflect. All that was going through my head was - I can't be late - and a rather whingy little graduand-zilla protesting that it was MY day, and that my parent's partners shouldn't be getting in the way. I was annoyed at them hanging around, at them being places they had no places to be, at being an inconvenience meaning that I couldn't see my parents... How selfish of me.

I also felt rather alone after the rushing was over. Everyone else was celebrating with their parents and I was left to my own devices. Given my increasing sense of, well I suppose you could call it mourning, I was rather upset. The best four years of my life are over, numerous very good friends of mine are gone and I'm not certain about my future. Reconvening with friends for a few drinks afterwards kind of cleared away my maudlin mood - the future is full of opportunities to make new friends and may be even better.

But still, I had to have a wee cry when my supervisor e-mailed his dissertationists/'Islamicists' to congratulate us and tell us that "you're all good judges in your own hearts as to how much you've progressed and developed as researchers and thinkers."

Aww.

Degree Woes

4 years. 4 years of Religious Studies. 4 years of phone calls mentioning my degree and my desire to continue studying Religion.

Apparently 4 years isn't enough for my mother to have got the message: my degree is in Religious Studies, not Geology as she thought. Seriously?!

Commencement Address

On Wednesday, I don some robes and the purple hood referenced in the title as I graduate with a Master of Arts in Religious Studies with honours. Since I don't know which 'hood I'll be in come September, let alone what I'll be doing there, I've decided to create a wee blog to let you all know what I'm doing, where and with whom!

But as decisions pile up, I can take comfort from Philippians 4:13:

"I can do everything through him who gives me strength."