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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Contraception was never really a big deal in my family. As soon as I got my first serious boyfriend (and probably before – I can’t really remember), my mother assumed I was having sex, so she sat me down and told me to go on the pill. That was it. That was the extent of my sex education, along with a comment about using condoms as well. In actual fact, I wouldn’t start having sex until over a year later. But when I did start having sex, I did what my mother taught me: I went to the doctors, got a prescription for the contraceptive pill (Levest, to be precise), and I’ve never looked back. In hindsight, I probably should have done some research into the other contraception methods available. I vaguely knew about the injection, the coil, and the implant, but quite frankly they sounded like a lot of…

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As a straight, white, middle class, able-bodied, conventionally attractive woman, I’m pretty well represented. In the world; in movies; and in fiction. Of course, that’s not to say that women like me are always proportionally represented in the media, film, and fiction. It’s also not to say that when they are represented, they’re represented well. But generally speaking, the women I’ve seen in fiction look like me. They behave like me. They feel like me. They’ve had similar life experiences to me. All of which means I’ve never had to think about representation that much. Not on a personal level at least. Sure, I’ve Retweeted my fair share of Jezebel and Huffington Post articles about the lack of female representation in films; and I try periodically to raise awareness of the distinct lack of women of colour in the media – but I’ve never had to read book after book,…

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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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