Do you know what I hate? Spending hours upon hours discussing men. That’s why I’m a feminist – so that maybe the world can start paying to attention to people other than (white, straight) men. Unfortunately, a lot of my time as a feminist is spent answering this question: should men be feminists? The answer is simple. It’s yes, obviously – providing they don’t talk over women; providing they listen to women; providing they actually care about women. Unfortunately, not of men agree, and so many feminists dedicate days of their lives to convincing men that they should support feminism. Their arguments usually go something like this: “Men should be feminists because the patriarchy harms men too! Masculinity is toxic! Gender roles are restrictive! Male mental health is a serious problem! Feminism will fix all these problems!” All of which is, of course, true. The patriarchy does harm men. Masculinity…

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NB: This article in no way reflects the actual reality of my specific place of work – it is just a lighthearted commentary on office sexism in general and some ways you could potentially deal with it if it arose in your workplace. I’m quite lucky in that none of the people I work with  are massively misogynistic. Office sexism isn’t a major part of my working life.  But that doesn’t mean my office is devoid of sexism altogether. Most days, I notice my colleagues spouting some less-than-feminist ideas – conversations about ‘crazy’ girlfriends; musings about sex-workers; outrage at the idea of a male receptionist and a female CEO.. Little things, to be sure, but they’re enough to wear me down. Now I’m not normally one to shy away from confrontation, but I have to work with these people every day, and quite frankly it’s easier to put my headphones in…

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If you know me, you’ll know that I am an inherently angry person. It’s just in my nature. I’m the sort of person who will lose their temper because somebody put a book back in the wrong place. I’ll get pissed off when someone sits next to me on an empty train. Some days, the mere fact that people are breathing the same air as me is enough to send me into a fit of fury. I am an angry person. And I am definitely an angry feminist. I know, I know – I shouldn’t admit this. I should be reassuring you all that I’m a nice and fluffy feminist who will hold your hand and calmly explain rape culture to you for the hundredth time. I’m supposed to smile and hand men cookies when they tell me that they wouldn’t rape me – EVEN IF I’d been drinking, because…

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In case you didn’t know, I’m a feminist. I’m not just a feminist though. I am a Feminist with a capital F (and capital E M for good measure too). I’m a card-carrying, bra-burning (or at least I would be if my breasts didn’t require the support of a thousand underwires), angry, shouty, Feminist. I also hate the word ‘feminist’ with a burning passion. Plot twist. Now just to clarify, I don’t hate the word ‘feminist’ because I’m worried people will think I’m a hairy man-hating lesbian (why anyone would think that’s an insult is beyond me). I don’t hate the word ‘feminist’ because I’m worried it will alienate men (quite frankly I think it would do men good to be alienated for something for once in their life). And I certainly don’t hate the word ‘feminist’ because I’m deeply concerned with men’s rights. I hate the word ‘feminist’ because…

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I’ve always been one for new beginnings. New weeks, new months, new years – all totally my jam. New Year’s Resolutions? Yes please. New, fresh notebooks that I’ve yet to massacre with my abysmal handwriting? Give them to me! And now, a new shiny blog. If you follow me on Twitter (which you should, I’m hilarious), you’ll know I’ve been struggling with blogging lately. I took a break in mid-Feb to focus on my degree, and then since then I’ve been sporadic with posting, lacklustre in my approach, and just generally pretty ‘meh’ when it comes to blogging. That’s not because I’ve fallen out of love with blogging. On the contrary, I’m obsessed with it. I’ve done nothing but think about blogging – and my blog in particular – since I finished my degree. I’ve felt directionless, lost, uninspired, and above all, uninspired. So I started to do a lot…

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