When I put out a call last week for young women to interview about porn use and ultimately porn rejection, I was confident that I’d get at least a few takers. Enough for an article that could at least scratch the surface of what appears to be a growing backlash against the culture. I know from speaking to teenagers that there are stories to be told and that now is the time to capture them.
What I wasn’t expecting was to suddenly, over the course of one weekend, receive enough material to write a book.
Thanks to Billie Eilish using her not inconsiderable platform to blow the conversation wide open, something has been ignited and the reams of men pathetically hopping on every available thread to justify their right to orgasm to images of rape and degradation seem a little less secure in their convictions. They’re being viewed as the misogynistic cretins they are, and not before time. But this article isn’t about them, this is about the girls that are being fed the culture from an alarmingly young age – the average age of first exposure to porn in the women I’ve spoken to is just 10 years old – and how they’ve been impacted by it.
I considered many different angles from which to approach this. I already scrapped my original intro about how the internet is not the force for good we hoped it’d be. We already know that. I’ve also had to fight against my default urge to be irreverent and make light of things I find uncomfortable.
Here we are, nearly a quarter of a century in to the 21st century, and here I sit as a radical feminist, fighting for the right to call myself a woman, to call myself female, to be able to say out loud ‘Only women have a cervix’. What’s the reason for this ridiculous state of affairs? Well, it’s the great trans distraction. When our oppressors put on a dress and some lipstick and class themselves as more oppressed than women, and the rest of the world, seemingly, falls in to line.
Radical feminism stands in direct opposition to the notion of gender ideology. Radical feminists are gender abolitionists. The very idea that it is the nature of the clothes that we wear that causes our oppression is way beyond insulting. For the whole of my adult life I have worn the clothing that hangs on the rails of the assumed ‘male’ half of the shop. Yet, in wearing those clothes, it’s never magically protected me from the unwanted gaze or attention of a man that sees me as a possession to be taken at his will.
How can it be then, that if a male puts on a dress and some lipstick, they are suddenly so vulnerable?
It’s fair to say, I’m no fan of London. I’m not in to big noisy cities at all. I hate places that are crowded and where manners are considered a rumour of an ancient past. Conflict, even the threat of it, see’s me frozen in fear. It would take something really special, nay extraordinary, to see me making that trip down south anytime soon. To be brave enough to feel the fear and do it anyway. And, so it was.
On the 21st October 2021 such a miracle occurred. I did indeed wake up in London, having stayed overnight in Wood Green. I had woken, readied myself and then taken the tube to arrive in the political heart of our country at Westminster. There was an inevitable threat of conflict, as another section of our society didn’t want the likes of me congregating with others similar to me, and wished to make their objections perfectly clear. The utter madness and insanity of the preceding 4 years I’d witnessed meant that I no longer cared about my dislikes of big cities or my fears of conflict; I had to be right there in central London, on this day, regardless.
With a quick stop at the statue of Millicent Garrett Fawcett for a selfie en route, where I was reminded that “Courage calls to Courage Everywhere”, I arrived at the Queen Elizabeth II Conference Centre to represent the B of the LGB Alliances inaugural conference. The big scary counter demonstration at 8am consisted of one trans-identified-male lurking behind a tree, and two men dressed head to toe in black with a black mourning veil covering their faces, who believed themselves to represent the mourning of us gathering solely as the LGB, with no attached T. It was both disappointing and terribly dramatic all at once.
Courts of criminal law in the UK, are excusing men, or reducing their sentences, by blaming deceased women for demanding “rough sex” and BDSM sex games. 59 women in the UK have died, with dangerous sex being used by the male defendants as an excuse.
Books such as 50 Shades of Grey, Bondage Domination Sadism and Masochism (BDSM), and the pornography industry, have opened the floodgates to a tide of misogynistic, sexual abuse and dangerous sexual practices against women.