The Curse of the Cool Girl, And Why I’m Done With Pretending Not to Care

“Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.” – Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl. Continue reading

Advertisements

International Women’s Day, And Why We’re Still Having This Conversation

Happy International Women’s Day! So far this week I have fielded my mum’s concerns that a picture of me wearing fishnets on Instagram ‘gave the wrong impression’, as well as her accusatory questioning as to whether ‘all my friends are feminists now’. I have argued with a man about what defines the ‘shared female experience’, and had him disagree with me when I said it wasn’t giving birth. I have acted professionally towards a male colleague who suggested that a picture celebrating IWD on the work social media account shouldn’t just be of the women who work there ‘because men support women too’. I have felt guilty about eating pizza for tea, because as a six foot, size 10/12 woman I feel constant pressure to lose some weight. I have been called a misandrist. It is currently Wednesday. Continue reading

The Fuckboy Phenomenon, And Why Boys Fear the Blogpost

Ah Fuckboys, the ubiquitous defining man of our generation; talented, good looking, charming and repulsive in equal measures. The phrase is used in various ways by different communities, but for my social groups it is always used like that. Maybe he is stylish, has a good haircut, drives a fancy car, but he always has one defining feature: women. Not just in his bed, the term is not one of sexual behaviour shaming, but rather a shaming of emotional behaviour. Alana Massey said in this article that ‘Fuckboy is not a dating style, so much as a worldview that reeks of entitlement but is aghast at the prospect of putting in effort…Fuckboys become emotional vampires to women who aren’t even their girlfriends.” And that, that nails it exactly. Continue reading

Bare Faced Prejudice, And Why It’s Not Brave To Go Without Makeup.

I can think of a lot of times in the last few months when I was brave to show my face. I was brave to show my face at work the day after my breakup. It was red and blotchy, not merely snotty but pouring with snot, and prone to crumple at the slightest setback. I was brave to show my face at work again, weeks later, when my medication had reacted badly with alcohol and I had spent two days puking after going out for drinks on the company account. It was shamefaced and pale, no matter that it wasn’t my fault, it knew it had done wrong. But I can also tell you when I wasn’t brave to show my face: every single day that I chose not to wear makeup. Continue reading

Emotional Labour, and Why I Felt Weirdly Relieved When He Left

I have been thinking a lot recently about emotional labour, and the disproportional amount of it that women do in relationships. At this point, you might wrinkle your nose and dismiss this blog post as more shit that feminists have made up to be angry about now they’ve got the vote thing sorted, but bear with me here. I was recently dumped by a man that I was desperately, insanely in love with and now that he’s left, along with the debilitating heartbreak, I’ve found that I have an odd sense relief. Considering that he told me he didn’t want to cook and clean the flat whilst he was unemployed because he “felt like a maid”, you can imagine that in terms of gender roles, he wasn’t the most modern in his ideas. But it isn’t this total inability to help around the house that I feel freed from, it’s the absolute exhaustion of the amount of emotional labour I did in our relationship. Continue reading