Banning the Burqa, Another Feminist Dilemma and Consultations

Now that wearing the burqa is banned in some European countries I think it’s time to ask questions about why some people are keen to ban the burqa in the UK.

I remember in the 1970s there was a wave of immigration into the UK when Uganda’s President, Idi Amin expelled thousands of Asians from the country. The people that came here, more particularly the women, dressed differently. The women, wearing their beautiful saris were readily identifiable and if I remember correctly (I was quite young at the time) there were calls for Ugandan Asians to assimilate by wearing western clothing.  There was a generally impression that wearing a sari was not quite the right thing to do in Britain. I’m not sure if it was the sari itself that caused the problem, or the little capped sleeved tops that were worn under them. These tops or blouses were often cut short and exposed the mid-drift of the wearer and were much like the now ubiquitous crop-top. Perhaps a few inches of bare brown skin was just too much for Britain in the 70s. The sari was thought to be unacceptable dress for the workplace and there were many who expressed the view that women should not wear the sari to work. I don’t think this went very far. I had a lovely teacher called Mrs Sen who wore a sari and we didn’t seem to take much notice of it, although I’m not sure if all the adults felt the same. Anyway, back to the burqa. Perhaps we can’t make direct comparison between Mrs Sen’s sari and women who wear the burqa today because I think the sari probably has more cultural than religious significance. The burqa, it is claimed , is worn because of religious belief but like most beliefs there is a lack of consensus about the basis of this. If the burqa is prescribed by the tenets of Islam, then there are many who do not subscribe to the view and many Muslim women do not wear the burqa or cover their face or hair. There is an argument that wearing the burqa is more cultural that religious and that women wear the burqa for one of two reasons – either they choose to or they are compelled to. Whatever reason women have for dressing in this way legislating against it will prove detrimental to women. The argument that to hide women’s faces is unacceptable on the grounds of security or communication is specious. We communicate with people everyday without seeing their faces and to suggest that covering the face public poses an important security risk does not begin take into account the real threats that we face each day. As far as I am aware, no women refuse to remove their veil when faced with security checks at airports and the like. If they did, they would be refused permission to travel – we have laws to deal with these situations already. No, banning the burqa will only damage individual women by either taking away their right to dress as they please or perhaps worse, will leave them imprisoned in their homes because their men folk will refuse to let them out in public without covering their faces. Women will be disadvantaged by any legislation prohibiting the burqa or veil. Instead we should perhaps consider why, like Mrs Sen’s sari, we find it so threatening in the first place. This is the only way that we can possible understand those who chose the veil and those who are compelled to it.

I think that Harriet Harman, current leader of the Labour front benches is facing her own feminist dilemma just now. Having said that she wanted the Labour Party to impose a shadow cabinet split 50:50 along gender lines she has revised her goal and is now going for a 70:30 split, working up to 50:50 over the next three years. There are those that will suggest that this is a climb down on Harriet’s part but is it really? Although I might agree with her aims, I to am concerned about forcing the issue in one fell swoop and I applaud Harriet’s move. This is no climb down on her part but instead it represents a pragmatic response to the demands of those less willing to make a whole hearted leap for change. What Harriet is doing in this respect is just fine by me and it shows that she is able to take on board the fact that you can’t impose equality on people. Much better to let it sidle up to them slowly and let them think it’s their idea.

This week I have been consulted – again. Consultation is the current buzz word. Everyone is doing it. Local authorities, government agencies and the treasury are all asking “What do you think – how can we save money?” I didn’t mind taking part and it was quite a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. It is always nice (and boosts the ego) when someone asks “What do you think?”. Unfortunately, I have a sneaking suspicion that consultation is just another sleight of hand, drawing us in and making us feel part of a process in which we will never really have any input. Instead, the process itself will be used as a means of supporting the devastating cuts to public expenditure that are already in the pipeline.

Stonings, Another Accident and Women on Facebook

Opposed execution by stoning: 1
Car versus man on motorbike: 1
Women on Facebook: Too many!

Hopefully, by the time you read this Sakeneh e Ashtiani will have been reprieved. Following a week of high-profile lobbying by her family the Iranian government have so far conceded the execution of Sakaneh by stoning. Stoning has been used as a means of execution in Iran for a number of years. Iran also uses hanging and Sakenh. Accurate figures for the number executed in Iran by either method are difficult to ascertain but it seems that of the people stoned to death, the majority are women. The conduct of stonings is regulated; the victim is buried up to the chest or breasts after being wrapped in bandaging or a shroud like garment. This limits the movement of the victim and occurs, perhaps, because the law also states that if a victim escapes, they will automatically be granted a pardon. The law also defines the size of stones that can be used and stones that could kill in one or two blows are prohibited. Victims take approximately 20-30 minutes to die from brain damage and concussion. There are an another 15 people (3 men and 12 women) facing the prospect of execution by stoning in Iran. For me, the issue of guilt is irrelevant in these cases and I not only condemn stoning as a means of execution but also capital punishment in general. It is difficult for me to expand on this view, because despite my preference for fully rationalised choices and opinions, in this case I just feel that killing people is wrong.

Another accident related issue this week when a young man ended up laying on my doorstep after his motor bike was hit by a car. Fortunately, he had been wearing all the right clothing, helmet, boots etc. and was remarkably uninjured for his ordeal. The reason I mention it here has more to do with the way that the cyclist and the car driver were subsequently treated. The cyclist, a young guy of about twenty years old, and the car driver, a women in her late sixties received markedly different treatment from the authorities. The lad, laying on the pavement visibly stunned, was waiting for the ambulance to arrive when he was asked firstly, had he been taking drugs and secondly was he driving legally. The woman, on the other hand was asked if  she was OK. Later the lad was questioned by the police for about twenty minutes, breathalyzed and also fined £60 for a dodgy back tyre. The woman was questioned for about five minutes and when I asked, she said that she had not been asked about drugs and I don’t know if she was breathalyzed. He limped off home pushing his precious but battered bike, definitely the loser in this encounter.

An interesting piece of research out this week claimed that a third of young women aged 18-34 check Facebook first thing in the morning before they go to the loo. Another 21% check the site during the night – it doesn’t say whether they wake up especially to do this or not. If they were older I might have thought they were awake anyway (or perhaps that’s just me) and I can’t imagine looking at Facebook before I’ve had my first cup of coffee. More worryingly, 58% use Facebook to track their ‘frenemies’ (people they are ‘friends’ on the site but do not like in real life) which seems vaguely duplicitous and 50% are ‘friends’ with strangers. When we consider that 50% of women also felt comfortable dating people that they had met on Facebook, it seems that there are a lot of young women using Facebook to an extent that may be impacting on other aspects of their lives, and also perhaps putting themselves at risk by meeting people they have only met online. When it comes to relationships, Facebook has other uses as well and 49% use it to track their partner’s online activity by using their logins and passwords. What strikes me about the results of this research is the insecurity that many women must be experiencing. Tracking what your partner and frenemies are up to can only end in tears and we all know that if you feel a bit insecure about something, dwelling on it only makes things worse.What do you do if your partner spends more time chatting with your frenemies than with you. Or perhaps that is the cause of the 9% of women and 24% of men that break-up with their partners on Facebook.

QUANGOS, Feminist Dilemmas and Fertility

News that no one notices: 1
Feminist dilemmas: 1
Predicting the menopause: 1

This week, the UK Cabinet Office published  details of its top paid QUANGO employees. The spreadsheet – a format to put anyone off – was disturbing reading. On close inspection it was apparent that only about 15% of the so-called government ‘fat-cats’ are women? The list includes male notables such as Trevor Philips, Keir Starmer and Jock Stirrup but I am ashamed to say that I didn’t recognise many of the women on the list. The name that really jumped out was that of Vicky Pryce and this was for all the wrong reasons. Who is Vicky Pryce? She was recently appointed as Senior Managing Director to US firm FTI Consulting in London, but before that was Director General of Economics and Chief Economic Adviser at the Department for Business, Innovation and Skills and Joint Head of the Government Economic Services. This high flyer was, however, in the press recently not for her own achievements or even noteriety but for the behaviour of her (ex) husband, Cabinet Minister, Chris Huhne, who revealed he had left his wife and was setting up home with Carina Trimingham, who had also split up from her partner. Vicky Pryce has been through enough lately and I don’t wish to add to her troubles. Those of you that have followed the story will know the details and those who haven’t can find out easily enough. I’ve mentioned Vicky Pryce only because she provides a great example of a professional woman in a minority postion who is now better known because of her husband’s transgressions.

Despite this, I think the situation raises an interesting question and I am left wondering whether having so few women on the list is something that should be celebrated (fewer women fat-cats?) or something that we should all be shouting about? This is a perenial problem for feminists: does support for a women take priority over all other issues? Three examples spring to mind for me: prostitution, boxing and women in the armed services. I am torn between my support for women in their (chosen) profession and my dislike of the profession itself. Because, while I cannot and will not support, for example, boxing, as long as there is such an activity I support women’s right to participate. Likewise prostitution and the armed forces. It is not the only dilemma I face but it is one that I will always find difficult to resolve.

Reports this week from an Iranian research project claim that a test will shortly be available to predict the date at which a woman will begin the menopause. Based on the notion of ovarian reserves, it is claimed that the prediction will be accurate to within a couple of months. At first this may seem to be an amazing step forward for women hoping to plan their lives and their fertility but should it also set alarms bells ringing? If the idea of ovarian reserves is in fact a reliable means of assessing length of time a woman will remain fertile, then from puberty onward it will be medically possible to know when the clock runs out. For some women, this will be in their late forties or early fifties, for others it may be considerably later or earlier. The onset of menopause – the clock running out – is generally not discussed in positive terms within our culture and the menopause is constructed as a time when not only our fertility but also our femininity declines. But fertility is not the only deciding factor in whether or not a woman will have a child. Recent cases of women receiving fertility treatment and subsequently bearing children in their sixties have also been in the press recently and these appear to be raising more alarm than the prospect of measuring ovarian reserves. Older women, it is claimed will not be able to do the work of raising children and will die before their offspring reach independence. At the other end of the spectrum, young girls are becoming fertile and at an earlier age and we are trying to discourage them from having teen pregnancies. What exactly is it that we are trying to achieve here? Importantly, what will be the consequences for individual women and the life choices they make?

Sartorial Disasters, Queues for the Loo and the Budget

Sartorial disasters 1
Queues for the loo 1
Budgets 1

Why oh why did I choose to ignore the hole in my trousers when I put them on? It was only a small hole in the seam, almost invisible and on the inside leg well above my knee. Well that’s how it started off but that was before I dropped my last twenty pence piece just as I went to put it into the ticket machine at the pay-and-display parking. By the time I left the multi-storey my trousers were split from knee to crutch and I had to head off across town to the office. Luckily I had a shopping bag with me – nothing fancy – just one of these fold-away jobs that I’m using these days in my own little effort to save the planet. Anyway, unfolded and held strategically across my front it did the job as long as I stayed with the wall to my right, the split being in the left leg. I think I managed to blend into the background and no one pointed and laughed – at least to my face. Having achieved the relative safety of the office I raided the first aid box for safety pins and pinned myself back together. Pleased with myself, I went off to a meeting but it wasn’t long before the pins that had been fine while I was standing became lodged uncomfortable in my nether regions once I sat down. Needless to say, I wriggled a lot but didn’t quite have the front to explain to my colleagues what was going on below the desk.

When I was little my mum used to take us to the loo with her if we were out somewhere. This may be saying more about my background than times changed because she also used to spit on a hankie and scrub my face with it. Anyway, back to the toilet. If we were out shopping and wanted to pee we were all (two or three of us) squeezed into the cubicle and took turns to pee. I suppose my mum’s logic was that she could keep track of us and make sure we did things right at the same time. The consequence of this was that three of use would be in there for longer than your average visitor but apart from this, inconvenience (no pun intended) was limited for other users of the facilities. Today while I was out shopping I went into the toilet and saw a long queue. Now, this is not unusual in the Ladies but in our local little supermarket they have plenty of loos and its never crowded. Instead, the queue had formed because one mother with four children had put a child into each cubicle and was also using the disabled toilet to change the baby. Now, I understand the difficulty of managing four small children but the practicalities involved in seeing to three toddlers and a baby at the same time was chaotic for her and for us waiting crossed legged. As you can imagine – toddlers cannot manage in full size adult toilets unaided and not only were the toilet seats left the worse for wear but at one point the baby got his arm caught in a door. I don’t know what made this rather harassed woman act in this way and I feel uncomfortable about being irritated by her but it seems a little bit self-indulgent to expect everyone else to work around you because you have four children to look after.

Earlier this week the Chancellor gave his Emergency Budget speech and I can’t help wondering if I was the only one, in the immediate aftermath thinking that it hadn’t been that bad after all. The feeling was however short-lived and I was left instead thinking the Con-Dem PR machine had done an excellent job in expectation management. We knew almost exactly what was going to be said – but it had all been painted a shade darker in the spin than it was on the day. Despite pre-election statements that there were no intentions to raise VAT, we knew it was going to happen and benefits have taken a hammering. Women, being generally lower paid than men will feel the effects of this more keenly and mothers in particular will lose out. Most worryingly, there is a general sense, if you read between the lines, that women without incomes should think twice before having children. There were brighter notes for some. Capital gains didn’t go up to 50% – again, did anyone really expect it to and if you have a holiday home, you can still offset the costs of looking after it against other earned income. It’s reassuring to see that some things never change.

Men on Bikes, Shouting at the TV, and Staying in Bed

Nearly run over by a man on a bike: 1
Shouted at the TV: 1
Wished I’d stayed in bed rather than go to work: 1

It’s not that I hate cyclists or anything but! This week, a man  who was simultaneously on a bike and a pavement, got cross with me when I dithered, not knowing which way to jump, when he nearly ran me over. Now, as I have some acquaintances who regularly ride bikes, I know that they find this behaviour on the part of pedestrians infuriating because if we just stood still they think their skill and dexteriety would enable them to avoid crashing into us. Unfortunately, this takes an act of faith that is just one step too far for me. Instead, instinct takes over and I attempt to dive out of their way.  Well, this week, my actions caused the cyclist is question to mutter under his breath and tut tut alot which is a fairly low-key response as these things go and I assume he is generally a kindly sort of fellow because this bike rage was minor compared to some of the incidents I have witnessed. But cyclist ‘V’ pedestrian is not a one way street and I have also seen, on at least one occassion, a pedestrian trying to push an errant cyclist of their bike. This resulted in alot of shouting and some minor and perhaps unlikely death threats being issued by both parties. However, both seemed shook-up by the encountered and hopefully they will both think twice next time.

Couldn’t help but shout at the TV when Michael Mosley in The Story of Science on BBC4, said that modernity was humanised. What exactly does this mean? Modernity can only exist as a consequence of human thought and although you could argue that modernity has a dehumanising effect on society, you simply cannot have modernity without humans. More importantly, why do I bother shouting at the TV? I have found myself doing this more often lately and have been wondering why this should be the case. My father used to shout at the TV all the time and I would sit and wonder why he did it. Is it that I am just like him in some ways or is it something to do with getting older? I have heard it said that as you age, people’s misuse of language begins to grate and you become obsessed with punctuation and maybe shouting at the TV is akin to this. Is it that I am losing tolerance or just becoming less inhibited? I don’t particularly mind becoming less inhibited as I grow older, although the prospect of a less inhibited me may cause concern to some, but I do mind the thought of becoming less tolerant.

Today I would have liked to have stayed in bed or sat in the garden dozing. Instead I made a packed lunch (economy drive – still 2 weeks to pay day) and headed off to the office. Not that the office is an unpleasant place to be, but the long drive, the parking and nice sunny day outside all conspired to make me feel decidely lack lustre. Having turned on the PC and glanced at the in-box I decided that instead of staying chained to the desk I’d treat myself to a coffee at a local (non-chain) coffee shop and on the way bumped into someone I had known at university. Now the CEO of a local charity, he was bemoaning the budget cuts that everyone in the third sector is anticipating for next year. Having been made redundant once before through loss of funding, he was looking at the options for prolonging the work of his organisation. In this respect many of us are in the same boat and are facing, yet again, the task of reinventing what we do. Service provision to local authorities has been the mainstay of many organisations for a long time now, with service level agreements being familiar to all, but as local services are facing severe cuts this will have its knock on effect for the third sector. The widespread out-sourcing of services by local authorities has, to a large extent, gone un-noticed by people who turn up at their local Citizen’s Advice Bureaux or re-cycling project not realising that these services will also be part of the budget cuts that we keep hearing about. So, whether it’s your rubbish collection or help for the homeless bloke I saw on the street this morning that faces the chop, we will all be made to take notice at some stage. Better to get involved now.

Lame Excuse of the Week “Sorry, I Can’t, I need to clean my bins”

Lies, Fender Benders and the Wrong Text

Lies told: 3
Fender benders: 1
Texts sent to the wrong man: 1

First the lies. What more can I say? The lies weren’t all that big and mainly served to keep people happy. The dress just wasn’t very nice, it was every colour under the sun and made from a patchwork of shiny satin material, it was also very long and although I am not against the idea of a the maxi-dress as such, it did mean that there was just so much more of it than I really wanted to see. You could argue that a good friend would have said, diplomatically, that perhaps the dress should be reserved for holidays, or preserved for posterity. But I am not a good friend in this case, and I am also completely fed-up with being the one who has the job of pointing out the obvious. I said it was lovely! The other lies involved agreeing with something that I disagree with in order to keep the peace and saying that I was busy when in fact I just wanted to sit in front of the TV. Was this so terrible?

The fender bender was at the end of the week and just made an already hectic day a little more nerve jangling – no injuries, no damage (apart from an irritating squeak from the tow-bar which took the brunt of the impact). It was quite a friendly exchange all things considered, and I have been invited round for coffee by the other driver- an invitation I will take up shortly – she was very upset and had something on her mind at the time, something to do with her daughter, I think. I’m sure I’ll find out all about it in the near future.

The text was another matter and could have been a lot worse than it was. It’s a long story but goes something like this. My best friend is having a spot of bother, it’s the kind of thing that happens to men of a certain age and involves the waterworks, getting up in the middle of the night to pee and what he endearingly calls the stain of shame. The doctor has prescribed, some medication the contra indications of which are too scary to contemplate. The possible side effects range from going bald and developing purple patches, to fainting, not to mention the horrendous and quite painful consequences for the male genitalia. Enough said – I assume you have the picture now. Despite the hysterical laughter he had to endure from me as he read out the ever lengthening list of maladies that might befall him, I was a bit concerned that he was going to be by himself on the first day of taking this new drug and so, I thought I’d send regular texts to make sure he was still with us and not suffering any terrible effects. Being my usual witty self, blunt and to the point I sent a short text – how’s your willy? Unfortunately I didn’t send it to the right man. About twenty minutes later I received a text from my rather perplexed brother – away on a stag weekend – why, he wondered, was I asking about his willy? It really could have been much, much worse.