Let’s talk about sex, bby

Let’s talk about sex, bby

Talking about sex in a super honest way is rarely done, because if you bring it up, a lot of the time people start to feel nervous, uncomfortable, anxious, self-conscious, etc, etc. And these reactions make perfect sense: sex is one of the most intimate things you can do with another person. However, it’s also nothing to be afraid of, so we should probably start getting more aware of how sex-positive we really are.

Sex-positivity, in the way I understand it, is the recognition and acceptance that sex is a totally normal part of a person’s life. It’s something most of us do, and society should normalise talking about it; especially in the sense that it should be enjoyable for everyone involved.

That sounds pretty simple, right? If you’re sexually active, then you should be enjoying it, and comfortable enough around your friends/family/sexual partner/s to talk about it. But unfortunately, sex-positivity isn’t practised by society as much as it should be.

For women, the idea of sex is both empowering and oppressive. We can take our sexuality into our own hands and decide who we want to sleep with and when, but whilst we’re empowering ourselves and our female friends, there always comes a point when you wonder whether doing this is making you seem like a bit of a slut to the wider world. And nobody wants to be a slut: that kind of reputation rarely ends well.

So we use the word with each other. And by trying to reclaim the term, women are somewhat able to fight against society telling us how much sex we should be having, because after all, my sex life is nobody’s business but my own.

This attitude, however, doesn’t mean that sex-positive women aren’t self-conscious, nervous or conflicted when it comes to sex. You might be totally fine with the concept of a one night stand, but then when you have one, thousands of years of female sexual oppression might start creeping into your head to tell you that you’re a slut and you’re making a fool of yourself. It happens; sexism’s a bitch.

Generally speaking though, sex should never be a thing that’s only appropriate for each gender to speak about amongst themselves. At school, I never saw how it made sense to separate the boys and the girls for the sex education talks. I obviously need to know the details of what’s going to happen with my body, but there’s a whole other half of the population that I’m actively not being told about. So when I develop relationships with that gender, there’s this huge barrier between us already, and I don’t see how that’s helpful.

Sex encompasses so many ideas and emotions that are vital to our relationships with ourselves and each other – regardless of gender. Politics, history, science, philosophy, psychology, anthropology: you name it, talking about sex would probably make parts of it make more sense. But aside from all that nerdy stuff, sex is fun, so why not talk about it in the same way you talk about all the other things you enjoy? That way, when it isn’t fun, you’ll feel comfortable enough around someone to tell them why.

Lockdown blues

Lockdown blues

A few days ago I was feeling really low: I wrote a blog all about my experience of coronavirus, my opinions on the way the government has handled it, and how depressing quarantining is. I didn’t publish it though, mostly because I’m super bored of talking about our shambles of a government…

Everybody hates being ill, and now more than ever we’re made to feel like we should fear illness. Obviously the pandemic has caused suffering on a huge scale to many people, but as we approach the winter, we need to give as much attention to our mental health as we’ve been giving to our physical. It’s been very easy to focus on coronavirus as the only relevant illness for the year, but a dangerous consequence of that has been that we’re kind of neglecting everything else.

As you might’ve read in my posts from back in the summer, I found quarantining in Peru really intense and exhausting at times. So on the 26th October when I realised that I wouldn’t be able to leave the house until at least the 8th November, I was thrown back into all of the emotions I remembered from the first lockdown. And I really don’t think that anyone has been talking enough about how awful it is to be on house arrest for weeks. Yes, it helps with slowing down the spread of the virus, but it also does some serious things to your state of mind.

Thus, the point I want to make this week is that we have to push the drama of the government’s restrictions to one side. Whether you agree with what they’re doing or not, when you catch this virus you’re going to have to stay inside for a couple of weeks. That experience can feel overwhelmingly bleak – especially when you know that you won’t be able to go out for food or for a drink at the end of it. You might wake up some mornings and not see the point of getting changed. Then when you check your phone and see text after text from NHS track and trace instructing you to stay inside, you might start to feel really suffocated. We’re all feeling the same things, and it’s sh**.

But you have to make the effort to get changed; to cook something interesting; to have fun with those you live with; to call the ones you don’t. Do your best to surround yourself with good vibes, and try your utmost to address how you’re feeling.

I’m not always the best at looking after myself, but as I get older, it gets clearer that my own happiness is my responsibility. So just keep reminding yourself of the positive things, because this lockdown world can so easily push you down.

Safety in numbers

Safety in numbers

Recently I’ve been thinking about how when we move to University, there’s this weird societal assumption that we’re all going to fit right in and find ‘our people’ as soon as we walk through the door. And whilst that can sometimes be true, it rarely is.

I was super fortunate to meet most of my friendship group within the first week. But I can’t say that we were all nearly as close last year as we are now, nor can I say that I felt 100% myself whenever I was around them. Clearly, this is because it takes time for people to relax enough to properly get to know one another away from the excitement of having just met.

So now I really appreciate how stable I feel in the friendships I started last year. Obviously, we still don’t know everything about each other, but I’m definitely expending a lot less energy trying to explain why I am the way I am to everyone this year. And that’s a huge relief.

But an even more liberating part of this term has been the stability of the relationships I have with the young women around me. Especially seeing as finding friendships with girls where you feel completely safe to speak about anything – without judgement – isn’t that easy. From my experience, some of the cruellest effects of our patriarchal society show themselves in women attacking each other.

As unfortunate as it is, feeling safe and free from judgement when around your female peers can sometimes become a matter of safety. I don’t like to catastrophise or to assume the worst, but it’s a dark reality that at least one of my female friends and I are likely to experience sexual abuse or harassment at some point in our lives – if someone hasn’t already. Not to mention the general discrimination we’re all going to experience pretty much every day. Therefore feeling secure in our relationships with each other often determines whether we’ll ever have the confidence to talk about this abuse or not.

On a more positive note, these close female friendships also afford young women the space to be completely themselves. They create room for us to discover and experiment with who we want to be; making mistakes without having to fear that those mistakes will be used against us in the future.

So if it’s taken you a year (or longer) to feel settled into the University/adult life, then know that there’s no shame in being a part of this club. And if you’re female, remember that women aren’t your enemies. Don’t support this f*cked-up patriarchy we live in by tearing each other down when society gives us enough grief already. As this week’s title states: there’s safety in numbers.

Please don’t waste my time

Please don’t waste my time

Lord knows that I’m appreciative of men. Some of my favourite people on the planet are men, and most of the time I’d probably prefer the company of a man rather than a woman. But I’m sorry lads, sometimes you can be absolute trash.

This past year I’ve experienced a (sometimes) overwhelming feeling of loneliness when it comes to romance. I’m 21 years old now and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve not been all that lucky when it comes to love for reasons I can’t really control. Naturally, this has gotten me in my feelings at points but this past year has made me lose all patience with the game of it.

I don’t know about you ladies, but I’ve wasted far too much time and energy on boys who have no clue what or who they want…and I am SICK OF IT. Whether it be talking to the straight-up f**k boys who chat a lot of romance until they’re around their mates, or the ‘nice’ lads who like you but not as much as they think you like them – not that they ever actually ask you how interested you are – I’m exhausted from the soap opera of it all.

This accommodation of men and their feelings we spend so much of our time doing, has got to end. If you’re texting a boy and he’s being sketchy, just cut it off. If you feel like you’re convincing someone to spend time with you, stop it. If when you talk about him to your mates you’re constantly making excuses to make him seem like less of a pr*ck, realise what you’re doing and how little sense that makes.

Many lads say that they want ‘simple’ and complain about how complicated girls are all of the time, but I’m sorry, from my experience the male species are riddles wrapped in enigmas that I’m expected to unravel. Why? Why should I do that? I don’t want to have to do that. I’m not making you do the same with me…

This isn’t an angry rant, because I feel calmer about my love life than I have for a really long time. I’m not saying that I don’t still want a boyfriend – that’d be ideal to be honest – I’m just at the point where I can’t face the game of it anymore. It’s really unrewarding. I’m also not trying to imply that I’m perfect when it comes to romance; nobody is. But I do know that I try to always treat people with respect, and I never waste anyone’s time on purpose.

After all, if someone values and respects you enough, then they’ll make an effort to spend time with you. If they don’t – regardless of what they say – then they’ll mess you about. Unfortunately however, it does seem like the age we’re at is a time when most people just want to mess about a bit. And that’s fair enough: you’re young, have some fun. But I want to have a fun, exciting, adult relationship with someone who cares about me as much as I do them, and I don’t see why that should have to start with some pointless game of ‘who’s going to text first?’.

So I’m not gunna do it anymore, and neither should you.

Not my favourite birthday present

Not my favourite birthday present

On Monday I turned 21, had a lovely time, ate lots of food, got a free shot thanks to my birthday badge: all-round good time. Unfortunately however, I woke up the next day to find a huge blister on my right foot. 😦 And for most people, this probably wouldn’t have put much of a downer on their week but in my world, a blister can seriously ruin my life for a while.

This time I didn’t cry or freak out about it when I saw it, I just kept saying ‘it’s okay’, ‘it’s fine’. And it is okay because I know how to deal with it, plus it’s lockdown anyway so it’s not like I’ve got lecture halls to go to or anything. But it’s upsetting and annoying, and I don’t live with my family anymore, so I don’t have anyone close by who actually knows how upsetting and annoying it is.

I guess that that’s part of growing up though, isn’t it? You move out, and you experience things on your own – without that safety blanket.

It’s not like I’m completely new to this; I went travelling for a huge chunk of last year, and am going into my second year at University now. However, I’ve been lucky for a long time with my feet because I’ve not had any big complications. This has largely been due to me looking after myself, and having all the correct things in place to make sure that I’m not caught by surprise. But sh** happens, and it can happen completely out of the blue.

What can add even more stress and annoyance to times like this, is the fact that if I continue to be optimistic around people, that can imply that the situation isn’t a big deal. But I won’t sit and mope about this blister because I don’t want to waste my time like that, and I don’t want people to think of me as someone who whinges all the time. Plus, most have never seen me in a wheelchair or with an infection anyway, so they couldn’t understand if they tried.

Saying this though, last year I remember feeling really frustrated and lonely at times when my new friends didn’t understand my disability. It wasn’t because they weren’t trying to learn about it, or trying to help me out, it was because I know that they need to see it be bad before they can better understand what help I need. But then obviously, I’m not itching for it to get bad enough to show them…

You have to acknowledge that getting to know people properly takes a lot more time than freshers week, or a few months at university. It can be difficult to realise that the people you view as some of your closest friends don’t actually know you that well. But people do their best, and what they don’t know now, they’ll learn after time.

Sex education

Sex education

This week I’m on my period. So for the past few days, I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing painful cramps, mood sWINgs, and a whole lot of bleeding. Too much information? Well tough.

Even though I have my period once a month, and it’s an entirely healthy part of my life, society encourages me to never talk about it. Then a direct consequence of this, is that women generally know very little about how their bodies work, and how to take care of them. And the men around them know even less. So no one knows anything, and half of the population’s physical and mental health is put at risk.

Not ideal.

But I’m not talking about everyone being able to regurgitate the facts they learnt in science – although you should be able to do that. This is about acknowledging the hormones and the pain women feel whilst on their periods as legitimate. We’re not overreacting: it f**king hurts. And as funny as it might be to see a girl cry over her bobble snapping, those hormones do genuinely mESS you up for a couple of days. I mean, sometimes we literally wake up in a pool of our own blood.

So, periods are intense and tedious enough: I don’t need society telling me that I should be embarrassed by them too. Nor do I need people to tell me how/what I should feel/wear/say/think when no one is taking an interest in my body or me anyway.

At the same time, I don’t know much about what male bodies go through. I know they don’t have such a dramatic time of it every month, but that doesn’t mean it’s always smooth-sailing. Like puberty, that doesn’t sound like a walk in the park for a boy – physically, or psychologically.

The point is that we never ask detailed, comprehensive questions about our bodies. But we go further than not asking: we stigmatise the topics so much so that it becomes ‘gross’ or ‘uncomfortable’ to even think about going there at all.

For women especially, getting to know yourself intimately isn’t normalised, so a lot of us just don’t do it – by ‘intimately’, I mean both sexually and biologically. A lot of my female friends have never even taken a mirror to have a look at themselves, let alone experiment with masturbation. Whereas a huge proportion of my male friends know their genitals as well as any other part of their body – maybe even better.

So if we’re saying that women barely know anything about their own bodies, and we then take that to talk about health and safety, how could we ever know that something is wrong, if we don’t know what we look like when we’re healthy? Then on a psychological level, how is it right that we’re so disgusted by our own bodies? We won’t touch or get to know ourselves but we’ll let some random lad who might ditch us next week do whatever he wants? I dOn’T tHiNk sO.

Conversations about our bodies shouldn’t be separated according to whatever genitals you were born with, because we don’t exclusively socialise with people of the same sex. We need to ditch the euphemisms and the pressure, so we can learn to look after each other and ourselves more effectively. After all, knowing this information will definitely save someone’s life one day – maybe even your own.

Get woke

Get woke

The last 8 months have drastically altered the way the world works. By being forced to stay indoors for weeks – in some countries, months – on end, we’ve been thrust into personal isolation in a way we’ve never experienced. In the future, some will probably only talk about how they were really bored, unable to go on holiday, or gained an unhealthy obsession with TikTok during this time (guilty…). Whilst others will have worse tales to tell.

Overall however, there seems to have been an increase in how much the general public pay attention to the news. It’s an unsurprising change, given we had very little else to do…but even though people started watching the news more, it seems we still struggle to fully engage with what we’re hearing.

When we go through school, there are often moments in our classrooms when we’re encouraged to discuss the politics relating to whatever we’re studying: whether that’s how the social climate of 1920’s America influenced F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, or whether it’s answering the million-dollar question: why did Henry VIII have so many wives? However, a lot of the time our curriculum doesn’t actually encourage us to really think about the topics, and then relate what we learn to our society today. We learn phrases we know ‘the examiner wants to hear’, but we’re 15, so why would we need to care about these things outside of the classroom?

But then we come into the world and we’re completely unprepared to understand everything that’s going on. Only we’re not completely unprepared: it’s just that we’re rarely taught how to recognise that what we learnt about the Tudors, the Bolsheviks, or the Ancient Romans is relevant to us now. Furthermore, people think they don’t have access to politics because they don’t know the lingo. But politicians complicate things on purpose; they’re trying to make you think that you don’t get it because then you’ll leave them to it.

Plus as humans, we separate ourselves from our history and assume that because we weren’t there, we don’t need to give it that much attention. And our learning at school is for exams, it’s rarely for the sake of knowing. But trust me, you’d probably recognise a lot of the ideas and political tactics kicking about now, from your history lessons if you took a second to think about it. After all, humans can be amazingly innovative but we also have a habit of ignoring our past, then repeating it because we’ve ‘forgotten’ about it.

So I couldn’t care less about how many news articles you share on your social media: it’s your profile, do what you want. What I do care about though, is people asking questions and actively learning about the world they live in. We’re the next cohort of citizens and we’re inheriting a big, phat, stinking mess. I mean, the planet is literally dying…

You learnt so much about how the world works today from school and everything you’ve ever read. It’s not irrelevant and it’s not always ‘boring/depressing’: educate yourself about the positive/exciting parts of world history too. But there’s so much to be said for paying serious attention to humanity’s past mistakes, learning from them, and finally doing something else.

I listened to a podcast the other day that said around 22% of American millennials don’t even KNOW what the Holocaust was. And that’s terrifying. So please please please exit Instagram/Facebook/Twitter/TikTok for a couple of hours today and read a book, watch a documentary, listen to a podcast, read an article – I don’t care, just learn something new.

Does being masculine mean you shouldn’t slut-drop?

Does being masculine mean you shouldn’t slut-drop?

I wanted to know whether these young men feel like they need to act/look/talk/think a certain way when they like someone, and whether they think there’s a generally accepted version of ‘attractive’ for the male sex.

My favourite response was: ‘I’m not saying I go around crushing beers against my forehead but I do maybe try and avoid slutdropping for hashtag bant’. I mean, that first part is just a really funny mental-image.

But overall, the answers were interesting because they were all pretty 50/50 on ‘yes’ and ‘no’, with equally passionate viewpoints on both sides. However, the ‘no’ answers had quite a lot of contradictions, with boys saying ‘no, not really’ or ‘definitely not’, but following it with ‘I try to be the most appealing version of myself’. Noting that it’s ‘pointless’ to be something they’re not in the first stages of getting to know a person, but still wanting to make themselves ‘more likeable’ to ‘not put girls off’.

I did completely understand what they meant: we all try to temper or alter ourselves when we first meet someone because we want them to like us. But, I can’t help feeling sad at how much pressure we put on ourselves just because we want the approval of a stranger…

Regardless of how many of these lads said ‘I just kinda do me’, there were a lot of mentions of the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ trope. The ‘v-line’ and the ‘older look’; the ‘jawline’ and the ‘muscular look’; the ‘confidence’ that always almost crosses over into ‘arrogance’. Oh, and ‘that typical white boy look’: I’m learning that for both men and women, other races have a lot more trouble with fetishisation than us Caucasians. But that’s a whole other blog.

Overall, the boys were saying a lot of things which equate to the experiences girls have our age. We all overthink how we should be when we’re trying to impress someone. We try not to change in front of strangers we fancy, but often we do it anyway. We have social standards we kind of want to live up to – no matter how impossible they might be. Our upbringing and our social class influence what version of ourselves we think is preferable to whoever we’re talking to. We’re all just kind of insecure and unsure at this age.

However these boys made a point that deserves a specific mention: not enough time is given to how much these pressures to look a certain way damage the mental health of young men. My friends were so right to tell me that ‘body image amongst men isn’t taken as seriously’ as it should be, because according to the National Centre for Eating Disorders in the UK, men are thought to make up around 50% of all cases. And I don’t know about you, but that statistic came as a surprise to me…

I think we’re doing pretty well in diversifying what it means to be ‘masculine’ in the modern world. But we’re moving so slowly. We still need to fully recognise that sexism is a huge problem for both men and women now: in 2020. If we sorted it out for women, then men would definitely feel the benefits too. Maybe we’d even realise that if someone likes us, then they probably couldn’t give less of a sh** about our hair colour or our height. Imagine it! A world without gender rules.

So, does being masculine mean you shouldn’t slut-drop? Well I certainly hope not. And FYI lads, if you want to play with gender expectations, then a little bit of eyeliner can go a long way too…I’m just saying.

Question 1

Question 1

We all know that horrible (kind of exciting) feeling when you see someone, think they’re fit, and you want to go up to them but don’t really know what to do once you get there. And normally, I’m pretty clumsy about it: I’m probably too loud and giddy, or too flirty or too subtle and then I spend hours after the time I saw the boy thinking about how I should’ve acted, or what I could’ve said, hating on what I actually said…it’s just a big old mess to be honest hahahah.

So I wanted to know, whether the boys us girls are embarrassing ourselves in front of, feel the same way in this situation…

And oh my god they do.

The overriding feeling coming from the answers I received though, was that they’d rather not feel like they have to make the first move. And I don’t blame them. We all know that this is a pretty toxic expectation of our society, but it’s also not an easy one to change. For example, I wrote an entire blog on how when I’ve made the first move it’s often made me seem like a slut…so…

But unfortunately, this huge pressure on young men has made some of them ‘not even bother’ because they ‘don’t know how’. Some boasted confidence with comments such as ‘I don’t approach, I get approached ;)’ but then went on to talk about how terrified they are of rejection. Not only that, they’re extra frightened that other people will ‘find out’ about it. And they’re especially wary of girls and their friendship groups because as they said, ‘once the girl hates you, so do all of her friends’. (*not always true, but fair assumption*)

Many were frightened of ‘having the piss taken out of them’. Or not being able to ‘come up with the most interesting conversation starter possible’. They don’t want ’embarrassing stories’ made up about them ‘failing’. And nobody wants the ‘reputation’ of always being the guy to ask lots of people out because then they look like a ‘f***boy’ and that’s not going to help them much either. Others also spoke about fears of ‘coming on too strong’, or seeming ‘creepy’ and accidentally ‘making the girl feel uncomfortable’.

So first of all, I’d just like to say that the fact all of these things are even thoughts going through your heads means that you’ve all got very little to worry about. You’re clearly decent, considerate, lovely people. A fact I already knew. Still I recognise, that my saying that won’t make the paranoia disappear.

Clearly, many of these boys don’t want to be that hyper-masculine, pushy version of a ‘man’, but they’re also not that comfortable with being the opposite. They fear that if they go in completely the other direction, they might be deemed a ‘coward’, ‘too quiet’, or just plain ‘awkward’. And finding that middle ground is difficult to do when you’re only 20.

It would also be entirely futile for me to respond to them and say ‘just be yourself’, ‘just relax’, or ‘try not to overthink it’. Since telling someone to relax in this situation is about as helpful as ‘where’d you leave it?’ when you’ve lost something.

But if these boys will allow me to give them a little piece of advice, since I’m part of the gender many of them are trying to pull, I’d say that awkward is not a deal-breaker. It’s not ideal, but it’s not a deal-breaker. Pushy and rude is a deal-breaker. So defo lean more towards awkward.

It’s completely unfair and pointless that we still have this social standard where boys are expected to make the first move. So I want to end this blog by making a request to all the girls reading this: do us all a favour and just risk it sometimes. If boys can be brave enough to put their egos on the line when they find someone attractive, then so can we. We’re all going to suffer some blows and experience rejection. It never feels great, but you don’t die either.

So f*** it: ask him out.

Yes, I actually sound like that

Yes, I actually sound like that

I’ve had many people tell me that social class is really not a thing that’s relevant to Britain anymore. But then the people who say this tend to be from middle to upper class households. Thus their opinion isn’t going to be so appropriate when applied to those lower down in the pecking order…

I’m pretty solidly middle class: I was born in Durham and grew up in a very pretty part of Bradford. Both of my parents are English teachers, I went to a normal West Yorkshire state school and I’m not the first member of my family to go to University. But I’m also not rich: there have been many things in my life which I couldn’t afford, and I’ve had jobs since I was 16. In fact, I worked 3 of them to pay for my entire gap year and then spent most of my time abroad working anyway.

Whereas, both of my parents are working class through and through: my mum is from Bradford, West Yorkshire and my dad is from Blyth, a small ex-mining town north-east of Newcastle. They were the first of both of their immediate families to attend University and are very proud of coming from these parts of England.

This means that whilst I’m a comfortable middle class citizen, a significant portion of my values, experiences and personality come from being raised by my parents. Therefore part of me will always be kind of working class.

When I moved to University, my parents were so specific in making sure I knew that I was going to be surrounded by people who came from different, wealthier upbringings than I. They didn’t want me to harbour any prejudices but most of all they didn’t want me to feel intimidated. Luckily, I’m pretty non-judgemental as it is, so social class and where people come from or what they sound like matter very little to me. And if you asked most people, it’s likely that they’d say the same. However, just because someone says that they don’t actively care about things such as this, it doesn’t mean that the differences don’t exist.

So at University I’ve found myself in a bit of a sticky spot. This is because whilst I’m middle class like many of my friends, I’m also Northern English. And the north of England is an entirely different world to the south. I’m not working class enough to fit with the working class students, but a middle class life in London is very very very different to one in Bradford.

But how exactly do I not fit?

Well let’s take my accent as an example. I love the West Yorkshire accent, and in all honesty I really don’t have a strong version of it. But it’s definitely there and I definitely made a point of keeping it when I moved for University. I’d expected some teasing of my accent, because I knew that most of the other students would probably be southerners. But what I didn’t expect was someone to just straight-up ask me ‘oh wow, do you actually speak like that?’, surprised that I could be clever and still miss out my ‘t’s.

Mad isn’t it? Clever people with Yorkshire accents exist?!

I also just don’t have access to so much of my friends’ experience of school. I mean, we sat around the table one time and they were talking about their time as prefects. Prefects?! That wasn’t a thing at my school hahahah, and it sounds like something straight out of an old Enid Blyton book to me.

I love Durham University and many of the people I’ve met. But I’d be lying if I said that I feel like I fit in. To be honest, I don’t really feel like I fit in at home either but home is easier, because everything is so familiar – and nobody comments on how I sound, since we all sound like that.

I don’t prefer one world to the other at all, in fact I love that I can live in more than one. Moving has just made me realise how much of a north-south divide there really is. Sometimes I feel like I’m from an entirely different country, but I’m really not and it shouldn’t be like that.

But all that these differences come down to is wealth, and the north needs more of it.