Why I'm Done With Dunham: article

If you’re in and around my age, you’ll remember when “Girls” first burst onto our screens in 2012. You’ll remember the quirky edginess of the show on the whole, and relating to the tribulations of the twenty somethings of it all. You’ll remember chats with your friends debating if you were a Hannah or a Marnie, and getting angry when they said the former. You’ll remember coming to terms with being a Hannah. Embracing it. Finding Lena Dunham’s Twitter and thinking “YES, this girl is chubby, and funny, and cool -- she’s who I want to be!”

You’ll remember becoming increasingly critical until you, like me, are done with Dunham. The creator of “Girls” has become increasingly more controversial in the past year or so and less relevant for it. Far from the mousy-haired, dry-humoured 23 year old I knew and loved, Dunham is now a figure of…well, pity, to be honest.

When did my love for Dunham go sour? Well, it started with a blogpost that detailed some criticisms of “Girls” – its lack of diversity, it’s “poor little rich girl” philosophy and it’s heavy-handed dealings with mental, sexual and physical health issues. Now, I’m no social justice warrior but elements of the show had started to make me uncomfortable – if Dunham was the so-called “voice of a generation”, then why did she cling to so many stereotypes in her work? With “Girls”, Dunham has expressed a desire to normalise the female experience; but massively expensive apartments and poorly-sketched “issues” weren’t doing it for me, So I stopped watching “Girls”, but continued to follow Dunham’s musings on Twitter. After all, it’s not fair to judge the artist on the art.

I stuck by Dunham through silly comments on feminism and LGBT issues: while Dunham is a staunch supporter of marriage equality, tweets like “I’m gonna be the first straight women to French kiss the first openly gay NBA player” leave a bad taste in my mouth. Her feminism is the same brand peddled by many a celebrity: it’s light-hearted, it advocates empowerment through sexuality, and more often than not, it misses the point. Dunham says in a recent interview “I just think feminism is my work. Everything I do, I do because I was told that as a woman, my voice deserves to heard, my rights are to be respected, and my job was to make that possible for others”. The issue is that we can hear her voice and it’s drowning out the marginalised voices; the voices that don’t have a TV show, a book and a mega-famous name to help them along.

Last month, Lena Dunham released the aforementioned book “Not That Kind of Girl”. It’s entered book charts across Ireland, Britain and America in the top ten. It’s garnered it’s fair share of criticism – from oversharing (not so bad) to slander against a man she claimed sexually assaulted her. Most oddly, she has recently been accused by a right-wing website of child abuse as detailed in her book. She took to Twitter to defend herself and as of November second, has cancelled her European leg of her book tour, presumably to work out what to do next. Whether the abuse allegations will stick or not, only time will tell. What I do know, however, is that this is the final straw. I haven’t watched “Girls” in a long time, but regardless, Dunham peppers my Twitter and Facebook timelines like nobody’s business. There’s no escaping her, and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of her faux-feminism, silly comments and incessant fame mongering. If there’s an add-on that allows me to blacklist her name, do let me know. 

Miley Cyrus vs. Sinéad O'Connor: article

Normally, celebrity spats don’t concern me – but sometimes a fight is bigger than two celebs trying to get into the news. One such case is the current “Sinead Vs. Miley” feud that’s dominating gossip columns both here and abroad. Miley Cyrus, pre-teen sensation turned wild child extraordinaire, has been everywhere for increasingly shocking reasons in the past few months. The hyper-sexualisation of Miley Cyrus seems pushed by the woman herself – but is this the case?

Not so, says Sinead O’Connor, who penned an open letter to Miley last week. Cyrus – who has openly homaged O’Connor in her latest video – was warned against “prostituting” herself to the music industry. Done in the “spirit of motherliness and love”, Miley responded by tweeting a screenshot of O’Connor’s tweets from 2011, in the midst of a nervous breakdown

Sinead O’Connor has been criticised for acting when there was no need to – but surely the singer has a right to speak when Cyrus has openly called her an influence. Is O’Connor judging Miley for her actions? Cyrus has been called silly, sluttish, immature and stupid by the media, but never by Sinead in her open letter. It was only when Miley retaliated by tweeting a shot of O’Connor’s infamous breakdown tweets from two years ago the 47 year old (understandably) lost her rag. O’Connor railed against Miley’s tweet, and has since demanded an apology. At time of writing, a third “open letter” has been written and the gossip rolls on.

Having followed the Revolution of Miley and read all three letters, I’ve come to the conclusion that O’Connor, though perhaps not totally right in writing her “open letter”, isn’t the villain here. But neither is Miley Cyrus. What’s important is O’Connor’s point: the music industry was entwined the sexualisation of women with their music in such a way that it bursts open in debates like this. Cyrus is another victim of the cogs of the industry, who indeed meld women into the hyperreal, plastic, sexualised beings we see through every pop culture medium. This point is valid: and no one knows it better than a 47 year old who was once a global star. But if women like Miley Cyrus, Rihanna and Britney insist on sexualising themselves to sell records, they’re sending a message that this is the way to get things done. Rihanna and Britney have both recently released raunchy, S & M themed videos. Is this how to dominate the pop world?

Only if you want it that way, argues feminist/punk/artist Amanda Palmer. She wrote an extensive blog on the issue, claiming that both women “need more freedom to say what they want… express what they want… and be respected for their bravery, not reprimanded for endangering themselves.” Palmer’s response has been widely praised, but it’s also easy to see that Palmer exists in a sphere outside mainstream pop music. Can a  self-promoting, label-free folk punk artist understand the pressure a globally recognised face like Miley Cyrus is under? Is Miley really doing what Miley wants by acting like a “twerking, raging sexpot?” Palmer seems to think so, failing to realise one crucial point: Miley’s actions aren’t optional. For her to be taken seriously in the music world, she must become the raging, sexualised ball of crassness she has become. To paraphrase Britney: she’s got to work, bitch.

Her and The Manic Pixie Dream Girl

“Her” and the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, published February 2014

Summer Finn from ‘(500) Days of Summer’. Sam from ‘ Garden State’. Belle from ‘Beauty and the Beast’. The Manic Pixie Dream Girl: a common trope in modern cinema, coined several years ago as “that bubbly, shallow cinematic creature that exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventures”.  Or, if you’re me, a really, really annoying female character that spends their time  self-consciously blowing bubbles, wearing dresses and gazing at the moody protagonist from under long eyelashes. The MPDG is everywhere: kid’s movies, rom-coms, comedies, romantic dramas…sometimes it feels as though there is no escape from the MPDG in cinema. However, all is not lost: the backlash has come. One is reminded of 2008’s  Ruby Sparks, a film which acknowledges and gleefully trashes the idea of this girl. This year’s “Her”, directed by Spike Jonze and starring Scarlett Johansson as Samantha, an operating system, can be seen as an infinitely more nuanced meditation on the trope. Let me get this straight: ‘Her’ is not a straightforward love story. It does, however, feature a sensitive, brooding protagonist, stuck in a rut until he meets the love of his life. The comparison seems obvious: until we look at the character of Samantha herself.

In ‘Her’, the idea of the “perfect girl” is taken to whole new heights: Samantha responds to Theodore (Phoenix), intertwining her budding persona with his. It seems that an OS is a consciousness that adapts to whoever it’s owned by. It’s a Manic Pixie wet dream – a girl who becomes exactly what the protagonist wants her to be. Theodore repeatedly tells us how “excited about the world Samantha is”  in the film– had she a body, it’s easy to imagine her giggling, twirling and wearing perfect flicky eyeliner a la Zooey Deschanel. She’s literally everything a sensitive, lonely man could want: adventure, ease and a lot of cyber sex.

But little by little, the audience realises what Theodore hasn’t: Samantha does not exist. That’s not to say she isn’t ‘real’ – but she can’t ever exist in reality. Yes, Samantha teaches Theodore to open up, to move forward and to love. It’s touching that she does all this without ever being “human”. And what’s quirkier than not having a body?! But ‘Her’ fails to fulfil the MPDG promise spectacularly – in that Samantha eventually transcends Theodore, and Earth. She grows smarter, more aware and less happy with every growing moment, fighting with Theodore and moving away from him. Samantha, in short, is becoming her own person, something the MPDG’s of cinema fail to do. The film climaxes when all the OS’s leave Earth forever – to a higher plane of being. Samantha is so clever, so original, so her own woman, that she leaves the entire race that crated her. Independent of her moody protagonist, Samantha leaves for her own whole new adventure.  It’s almost as though she used Theodore to grow and develop, and helping him was a handy by-product. Though I’m sure this was hardly the intention, Jonze has created a film that explores human nature, our relationship with technology and gender roles, enjoyable smashing up tired cinema tropes along the way. 

2013 in review: feminist film

In many ways, 2013 was the first year I “got into” films. I started writing for Scannain and watched more movies than any other year put together, I imagine. As a young, critical, strident feminist, more often than not I became drawn to films with decent female characters – sadly, few and far between.  There was a lot to be mad about this year regarding women on film – the lack of female directors, the lack of recognition for those directors and the continuing, rage-inducing portrayal of women as sex objects and little more (Every Superhero Film Ever, I am looking at you), and Seth McFarlane’s deeply unfunny hosting of the Oscars is perhaps the one that takes the biscuit. That said, 2013 offered plenty to be pleased about – without further ado, here are some of my highlights from this year:

#1: “In A World…” – dir. Lake Bell

Written, directed and starred in by Lake Bell, my new hero. The film – a pretty hilarious look at gender bias in the world of voiceover work.  She plays a daughter of a world-famous voice artist who desires to break into that same world. It’s pretty brilliant by any standards, but is made all the better because it directly challenges the sexism of the film industry. By turns touching, shocking and funny, you will be hard pushed to find better portrayals of women on film this year.

#2: How I Live Now – dir. Kevin MacDonald

A woman on film can’t seem to be all that nuanced, which is why I enjoyed How I Live Now so much. Saoirse Ronan nails it in the apocalyptic drama, set in a world scarily close to our own. Ronan’s performance is nuanced: it’d be far too easy for the character of Daisy to be a straight up moody teenager: in Ronan’s careful hands, she’s troubled, loving, impulsive and emotive all at once.  Though not the most endearing performance of the year, she certainly showed us that she’s a force to be reckoned with and her portrayal of Daisy is absolutely bewitching.

#3 – The Hunger Games: Catching Fire – dir. Francis Lawrence

God bless Jennifer Lawrence, then, a woman I hail as the queen of this movement for her portrayal of Katniss Everdeen in “The Hunger Games”. After the Twilight Saga, too many girls saw Bella Swan as a hero – a clumsy woman-child who spends four films drooling over an old creepy guy.  Yeah, I said it. That’s the “hero” of a generation – or at least it was until J. Law’s angry, violent, stunning Katniss Everdeen shot onto screens. Lawrence is even better in “Catching Fire”, showing that it’s okay to be tough, smart and strong but also to cry and feel like you need a hug. Instead of a generation of girls waiting for Mr. Right to turn them into a sparkly vampire, let’s hope Katniss inspires a generation to become as badass as she is. Regardless of feelings on The Hunger Games film franchise, Lawrence and co. are indeed admirable for bringing Katniss Everdeen to life in all her complexity.

#4 – Gravity – dir. Alfonso Cuarón

Gravity is the film critics and audiences alike haven’t shut up about since its release in November. Sandra Bullock’s performance has been praised roundly – she basically carries the film alone. What’s remarkable about Dr. Ryan Stone, her character, is that she could have been a man. Easily. Nothing about Stone is explicitly “feminine” in Gravity: she’s profoundly human. She cries. She complains, she messes up and she’s incredible brave. By writing Dr. Stone as a woman, Cuarón took a risk – a risk that resulted in one of the best performances of 2013.

There were a dozen films this year that strove for equality: even if the source material wasn’t explicitly feminist. As anyone with eyes will cop, Hollywood is sorely lacking female directors: this year, we had Gabriela Cowperwaithe’s phenomenal Blackfish, as well as lighter releases like Sofia Coppola’s The Bling Ring and Kimberly Peirce’s Carrie. Frozen was co-directed by a woman; several other releases like Ginger and Rosa and The Heat lend themselves to praise, too.

I think what’s been most important this year is that in both in the indie and mainstream worlds of cinema, we’ve seen portrayals of women outside the same dull categories: the “strong”, the “cute” and the “sexy” woman. Dr. Ryan Stone in Gravity was tough as nails but still learns how to cry (in space). Lake Bell’s Carol Solomon is quirky, but not in the sort of way that grates on many a feminist’s nerves. Sadly, I didn’t get to see a lot of apparently ground-breaking performances this year: Cate Blanchett in Blue Jasmine and Judi Dench in Philomena to name but a few. I can’t simply see it all, but nonetheless, here are some I picked out over the last year not only as great movies, but Fantastic Feminist Films. As years go, 2013 wasn’t a bad one for women – next year, we can await with baited breath the directorial efforts of Angelina Jolie and Melissa McCarthy, amongst others. Only time will tell if the breakouts of 2013 will capitalise on their success: until then, here’s to the women of 2013 and the brilliant films that they’ve produced. In 2013 there were several women who transcended the typical women on film stereotypes.

Why can't I just have a dance?: collegetimes and misogyny

Two things that are very, very important to the Irish student are nightclubbing and social media. No matter how big a wallflower you are, odds are at some point of your degree you'll find yourself in a darkened, sweaty box, knocking back rum and Coke and avoiding creepy boys. Social media drives the Dublin nightclub scene, giving away "guestlist" spots to fans and generally whipping up a bizz for a place.Clicking "attending", going out and cringing over the photos the next morning is something of a ritual for many Irish students, whether they like it or not. Nightclubs are blurring the lines between fun and scary, as proved by a CollegeTimes.ie article posted yesterday. The article itself - which I could write a thousand words condemning - not only showed rape culture and patriarchy at work, but also showed the deep-rooted problems with Ireland's ~club culture~. My feminist hackles are up, my lipstick (Smash The Patriarchy #2) is on, and I am ready to rant. What is wrong with Irish nightclubs - and more to the point, Irish students?

It's difficult to decipher what came first: sexist students or sexist promotional companies. Last year, we all discovered Midnight Promotions' dirty doings - as someone on Twitter put it, "degrading women as a marketing ploy". Midnight have been involved in a "knickers for liquor" debacle, the infamous "if you're  not up for it, don't cum" posters and, most recently, a night called "TIT Thursdays." The night promised guestlist spots to women who posted their breasts on their (public) Facebook page - to be rated by other members. TIT was quickly taken down after it was picked up by Twitter this morning, but the shock waves remain. Furthermore, it transpired that CollegeTimes.ie was run by Midnight - more misogyny for money. The borderline-rape-how-to article has since been pulled by the site - and an apology issued - but you can still read what it's plagiarized from here and the apology seems half-assed at best. To paraphrase Amanda Palmer:

 "It's 2013, it's supposed to be the future...what happened?"

Hate-filled articles and posters are one thing, but this doesn't turn 20something males into rapists. Just because an article uses phrases like "[a man's] target/prey" doesn't mean that he'll act on them. Surely I think better of men than that? Of course I do - I don't suspect every single guy I know of being a rapist. That is...a little extreme, at best. However, when we enter a nighclub, we enter a world of smoke and mirrors, where suddenly the language of misogyny translates into action. Our culture makes the black-and-white issue of consent into 50 Shades of Grey - and no matter how beingn these may seem, rape culture is rape culture. Over the past few years, I've been followed around clubs, insulted, yelled at, lied about having a boyfriend (numerous times - food for thought: the only thing that will prevent a man coveting a woman is the knowledge that another man has coveted them, not their consent), been felt up despite protest and - perhaps most memorably - being hit with the amazing line "want to come back to mine and make me a sandwich?" It's these incidents  that make me worry about articles like the CT one being published. The fact that women put up with this on a night out shows how deeply the problem runs. We almost expect to be mistreated in a nightclub, because that's How It's Always Been.The systematic slapping of arses, drunken shifts, one night stands and spiking of drinks are routine in nightclubs in Dublin City Centre - it's just part and parcel of a night out.

So what on earth are we to do about a way of having fun (YES. AT THE ROOT OF IT ALL, WOMEN ARE SUPPOSED TO HAVE FUN AT A CLUB, REMEMBER?) that perpetuates "a system...which privileges, inter alia, the interests of boys and men over the bodily integrity, autonomy, and dignity of girls and women. It is subtle, insidious, and never more dangerous than when women passionately deny that they themselves are engaging in it" ? Particaurly when it's there, right in our faces, when we want to go out for a dance? It's often just not practical to scream "YOU'RE PERPETUATING THE PATRIARCHY" at some scumbag in Dicey's, though it often does the trick. The terrifying truth is that I'm not sure what we, as bra-burning, man-hating feminists, can do other than give out on Twitter.  Because this goes so much deeper than a single article or even a promotional company - and it scares the living daylights out of me. So I'll keep shouting and writing and maybe, just maybe, we'll see a nightclub where women "shyly drinking their vodka cranberry" won't stand around waiting to pounced on by your local misogynistic scumbag. 

Legs and the patriarchy

Now that it's what passes for summer, it seems as though you can’t open a magazine without seeing an article about “beach bodies”, “summer pins” and whatnot. I have merrily ignored such articles for the last twenty summers (I said that mostly for dramatic effect. The first eight years don’t really count) but for some reason, this time around I felt a strange guilt creeping in. Not so much regarding the “beach body” – show me a diet that can get rid of my stomach in ten days flat, and I’ll show you a diet that will have me hospitalised – but definitely my legs. I’m not normally self-conscious about them, but then again, they’re usually covered up by gloriously thick black tights. However, I’m terrible in the heat, so the less clothes the better, really. I’d prefer to look ridiculous than to overheat. Or even worse, have to spend our rare lovely days curled up in a pair of thick black tights, overheating.

Gramatically incorrect

Without sounding like a moany self-deprecator, my legs are potentially the worst part of me. I can recognise that without feeling bad about it, but lately I’ve been analysing ‘em and wondering just what I can do to make them look better. I blame the heat, but also the sheer volume of legs that have been on show lately. Skinny legs, fat legs, tanned to perfection. Legs riddled with cellulite shoved into tiny denim shorts. One particular leg that it looked like a shark had attacked. Tattooed legs. Most of all, pale legs – though none, I would argue, so pale as mine. I am milk-bottle. I am computer tan. If you showed a coroner my legs, he’d probably tag me and notify my family. I am paler than pale, scarred with shaving bumps and lumps, and plagued by weird spots that refuse to go away no matter how much I moisturise. Which brings me (sort of) to my next issue.

Shaving is a big deal. Caitlin Moran, somewhat memorably, wrote about it in “How To Be A Woman” (“Take your furry minge to Dublin, I say!”) and it’s something that feminists get slightly up in arms about. To shave or not to shave, that is the question.  Nobody can deny that it’s an absolute bitch to have to do. No matter how expensive my razors are, I always end up lacerated in several places. What’s more, some outcrops of hair simply refuse to be mown down, and I notice them in the middle of Stephen’s Green six hours later. “Damn you, hair!” I think, wondering if Sellotape would take them off. My leg hair is super dark, so believe me, you notice it. But back to feminism…I’ve actually been asked why I shave my legs if I’m a feminist, if you can believe it. I do it because I want to. Because right now, my slightly bleedy legs feel like dolphins.  Who doesn’t want that?! If you don’t, more power to you, you’re not spending a fiver on razors every six weeks.

“But…Áine. Your legs don’t look that much better shaved. They’re still bumpy and now they’ve got cuts all over them!” This brings me to my final argument, the argument that started the blog post: I don’t really care. The previously mentioned magazines very much typify the “typical” woman, assuming she wants beautifully tanned, toned legs. Assuming she wouldn’t look like two-tone chocolate spread if she did use tan. Or worse, freckled.  Because women’s magazines can be such a useful tool for the patriarchy, it’sbetter to ignore them, I find. Newsflash, kids: if anything is telling a woman how her body should be (browner, skinner, more muscular, blonder, sexier…you get the picture) it’s an instrument of the patriarchy, which is there, of course, to PUT US ALL INTO OUR PLACES AS WOMEN. “Woman should look like this!” grunts the patriarchy. “Woman no look like this. This no reachable standard for woman. But trying to look like this keep woman busy and stop her getting into trouble. Fake tan and 5:2 diet keep woman quiet”. It bloody worked, too.

So, I propose a backlash – a proper one.  It is this: we stop buying fake tan. We stop shaving. We let our gorgeous – genuinely, because no matter how pale, freckly, scarred or fat your are, you are inherently sexy – women’s bodies run free. God knows I do. My forays into fake tan have been scary for most, and 9/10 times my legs are not a bottlenose dolphin, but a forest. But when I do shave or tan, or do anything to change my beautiful self, I do it for myself. My legs are mine, in all their awful glory,and I love them. I’m going to show them off, tan-free and just a little bit unevenly shaved. I haven’t done this for Heat! or Marie Claire, and I definitely haven’t done it for the Goddamn Sexist Marketing Campaigns. I’ve done it  because I like dolphins and because I can use my beautifully silky legs to entice men (and ladies) and then teach them all about smashing the patriarchy.

You're doing it wrong: sex negative/positive/neutral feminism and me.

I don't know if it's just my addled brain or the week that's been in it, but it seems that feminism is everywhere lately. I can't log into Facebook, Twitter or Tumblr without being bombarded with images, articles and news reports on feminist issues, be it Youth Defence's awful stunt yesterday, Wendy Davis' heroics in Texas or something as simple as a lad mag issue. Is it just me or is the idea of feminism hotting up again? Brilliant, I crow! I welcome you all to the feminist party! Take off your shoes and have some wine. This is, after all, one of the most inclusive movements out there, right?

Or not.

I get that feminism is divided into lots of different factions, because it has to be. "Just as there is no one woman, there can be no one feminism", if you will. (I didn't say that - it was a quote I came across studying for my exams but it's a brilliant one) I'm cool with these factions - I don't have the same feminism needs as someone who is LGBT, or from another country - but when I read this article earlier today I couldn't help wondering just what these "feminists" were getting at. The article interviewed two "radical feminists", who go on to question consent and sex positive feminism. In an article that begins with "how two young feminists are using radical feminism to change the world", certain elements of the article seem just a little backward. It's no doubt an interesting read, but nonethless, parts of it rubbed me up the wrong way - so rather than tear the article apart (which, let's face it, I'm not clever enough to do) I'm just going to offer my two cents on bits and pieces of "radical" feminism that have bothered me for a while now.

First of all: yeah, we live in a hyper-sexualised society. The recent outrage at Kraft's at for Philidelphia shows that the hyper-sexualisation doesn't exactly go both ways: by and large, it's women who are presented as sex objects, not men. Things like capitalism are intertwined with this issue and that's a bloody problem. The portrayal of women in the media is one of those things I can't talk about without choking on my own-rage tears, unable to construct a proper argument. It's something that angers me to the point of incoherency. While I do see that society's ideals of women need to change, I don't think "sex negativity" is the way to do it.

A small history lesson: "sex-negative" feminism sprang up in the 1970's when a bunch of women decided porn was wrong. Fair enough. But it's other elements of it I dislike - Andrea Dworkin, for example, wrote a book (that I ought to read) called Intercourse, which kind of kicked off the sex-negative movement.

"Intercourse is the pure, sterile, formal expression of men's contempt for women," - from "Intercourse"


From ideas like this, the idea of "consent" arises. Consent is important: durr. But some feminists would argue that consent is meaningless in a patriarchal society, which to me, sounds like undermining women in a huge way. From what I can gather from SNF, it seems to be arguing that sex is...well, bad  for women. I think the TC quote was said in quite general terms, but it's still a dangerous thing to say . It's here my own life philosophy comes in: not your body? Not your problem. Consent is a thing between two people - yes, it's violated sometimes and that's horrific but I don't think that it's constantly undermined by the patriarchy. I try to keep the patriarchy out of my knickers in so far as possible.


" Even the notion of consent, considered by so many to be a simple matter, is problematic — in a patriarchal society where women’s agency is circumscribed by male supremacy, how meaningful is consent? These issues are purposefully obscured by sex-positive feminists who believe that sex is an inherent good and that to feel otherwise is somehow aberrant, abnormal, a position that should be remedied." - from Thought Catalog's interview 

However, my real problem with sex-negative feminism is how problematic it is to an young Irish woman such as myself. It's adding to the double-standard that women have regarding sex. I'm not pretending to be an expert on anything in this area - I'm nineteen, for Christ's sake, and I've only identified as a feminist for about two years! Nonetheless, however, this idea makes me uncomfortable. Not only are Irish women dealing with slut-shaming, vague Catholic guilt and all those general worries about having sex, we're dealing with dissention from a movement that's supposed to be inclusive and safe for women. I'm beginning to view the anti-sex brigade as akin to the anti-choice brigade - I believe that the option to  have sex should be there. Or to not have sex. No one will judge you for either choice, because guess what?

• What you do with your body is no one's problem but your own

The notion that sex is anti-feminist and anti-women is bullshit. Sex is not in a vacuum; of course it's influenced by what goes on around us. But that doesn't mean it's up to someone with different beliefs to tell you what/what not to do. I'm not allowing rape by having sex. I'm not allowing the patriarchy to exist. If anything, by being open about sex and not allowing slut-shaming to happen around me, I'm helping (in a tiny, pathetic way) to dismantle it. From what i've seen, sex-negative feminism implies that women who have sex with men are somehow letting the side down. The whole thing smacks of keeping women down and conforming to someone else's standards - isn't that what feminism is trying to get rid of?

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm no expert. There's a lot of elements to Radical Feminism that I do not understand. But just a quick scroll through Tumblr's sex negative tag brings up some pretty worrying stuff.

In essence, I still feel that women's sexualities are trodden down - by both men and other women - on a day to day basis in various ways. It's being called a slut, posts on Facebook about how women should keep their legs closed, being told that hair isn't sexy, Youth Defence, hundreds of ads, airbrushing, having things shouted at you in the street, being told to stop talking about sex or the worst, scariest parts things - it's there, it's happening on a daily basis, and it's terrifying.  I am standing on a stool and shouting "I reject this!" because my sex life - and on that note, my body, my sexuality and my feelings - are not your problem. Just as yours isn't my problem.

Stop telling me what to do with my body, guys, you're acting like the patriarchy.