In our society women’s bodies are a battleground. The clothes that women wear shape our identity, yet these same clothes can be deeply restrictive.
Jinan Younis
DE&I Practitioner
Women are still terrified of reporting rape
Our culture devalues female experiences of violence, while men, such as Ched Evans, who are convicted of rape are often pitied in the media.
This article was originally featured in The Guardian. You can read the original article here.
Media coverage of sexual violence never seems to be higher, yet it paints an inconsistent and incomplete picture that has left many of us confused. From reports that complaints of sexual violence are on the rise, to the public naming for the second time of the woman who was raped by professional footballer, Ched Evans, we learn that more women are coming forward but that they are far from always being believed.
Police figures released by the Office for National Statistics reveal that the number of rapes reported increased by 29% in the year to June. The police are quick to point to the growing confidence in victims to come forward and report rape. Yet police forces continue to woefully underperform when it comes to investigating rapes through to successful convictions. In the year 2013-14, a third of rape cases were dropped. This continued record of failure discourages women from reporting rape as institutions repeatedly demonstrate that they cannot deliver justice.
Beyond police forces, universities too are failing rape victims. One in four students at university receive unwanted sexual advances, yet only a tiny proportion of these incidents are reported.
In the Cambridge University Student Union’s women’s campaign survey into sexual harassment at the university, 88% of respondents who said they had experienced sexual harassment did not report the incident. Moreover, in many institutions policies to stamp out sexual harassment fail to provide adequate support for victims or to encourage them to come forward.
At my college in Cambridge, for instance, the harassment policy fails to state that it will investigate any complaint that is made, or that students who do make a complaint will be protected from adverse social or academic consequences. Instead, it warns that those who make false accusations will face severe consequences for disrupting the college community and “causing much stress. This is emphasised more than once in the policy. The focus on false accusations feeds into the culture of fear that intimidates victims from reporting rape.
The harassment policy also suggests one should speak to the perpetrator of the harassment to “reconcile”. It says: “Complaints of harassment may often, it is hoped, be resolved informally in consultation with the complainant.” This is obviously a distressing and potentially traumatising prospect for most victims of rape or sexual assault. What’s more, the policy does not even list what constitutes sexual harassment, thus leaving any victim feeling helpless and cautious when considering whether or not to report an incident. The body of support that is so desperately needed to encourage victims to come forward does not exist in most universities.
The cultural context that we live in also plays a role in discouraging the reporting of rape, along with adequate penalties for rapists. Men convicted of rape are often pitied in the media and, like Evans, quickly vault back to positions of fame. When US National Football League player, Ray Rice, viciously beat his fiancé unconscious, the media circulated a video to feed the public’s morbid curiosity. When men kill their partners, (twice a week in the UK) the world forgets the woman victim’s name as in the case of Reeva Steenkamp.
Coming forward in a culture that devalues female experiences of violence is extremely difficult, and if we really want to see a dramatic shift in how rape is dealt with as a crime we need to change our society’s treatment of violence against women. But there are still so many women who are terrified of reporting rape because the institutions that ought to be helping them threaten, traumatise, vilify and ultimately fail them. The attitudes of institutions and the backdrop of popular culture leads rape victims to doubt themselves, internalise feelings of shame and guilt and to suppress their experiences.
Why all students need sexual consent education
This article was originally featured in The Guardian. You can read the original article here.
Rape and sexual assault are rife in British universities: men and women need to be taught that sex requires enthusiastic verbal agreement.
The meaning of sexual consent is often misunderstood in disturbing ways by young people. There’s the idea that if you wear sexy clothing you’re asking for it; that silence during a sex act equals consent; and that women are always falsely accusing men of sexual assault and rape. Surveys have shown that one in two boys and one in three girls think it is OK to sometimes hit a woman or force her to have sex. All of which suggests a new approach is necessary. We need to teach young women and men about affirmative, enthusiastic and informed consent.
This year colleges at Cambridge University have introduced consent talks and workshops after a student survey revealed 77% of respondents had experienced some form of sexual harassment. This culture isn’t restricted to Cambridge. It’s estimated that more than 400,000 women are sexually assaulted each year in England and Wales, and I have friends in universities across the UK who have described being raped, assaulted or coerced into sex. One friend, who has been sexually pressured on a number of occasions, confessed that she was afraid of men walking out on her if she didn’t do what they wanted.
The introduction of consent education in Cambridge sparked controversy among students. It was suggested that the workshops and talks would be patronising and useless, because everyone already knew about consent. Some students reacted to the idea that consent workshops should be compulsory by saying this would be a “contradiction in terms”. One, writing in Cambridge’s Varsity newspaper, was furious that consent workshops equated rape, “a criminal act”, with “behaviour they [women] find offensive”. Others responded: “As future leaders, it is our responsibility to support [consent workshops].”
It’s an odd argument that these talks and workshops should be supported simply because students will soon be in positions of power. It’s also worrying that their introduction fuelled such a backlash. Universities are in desperate need of consent workshops because rape and sexual assault are rife in these environments. The Hidden Marks report by the National Union of Students showed that, from a nationwide sample of 2,000 female students, one in seven had been seriously physically or sexually assaulted, 68% had been subjected to sexual harassment, and 16% had experienced unwanted kissing or touching during their time at university. In other words, ask any female student and it’s highly probable that she will have a story to tell you about sexual harassment, which either she or someone she knows has experienced.
I think some of the fear around consent workshops stems from the way they bring rape so worryingly close to home. They acknowledge that a rapist isn’t just a stranger in a dark alley – it’s more likely to be the person next door who you were too drunk to consent to sleep with, or the friend who refused your request to stop halfway through. We need consent classes to teach students that sex is an activity that requires the enthusiastic verbal agreement of all participants. No absolutely means no. And yes absolutely means yes.
But the workshops are also a chance to discuss the subtleties of particular situations – those in which a person may not be able to consciously consent to sex, or those in which “yes” is assumed. Consent has to be a conscious, willing agreement, made without pressure or coercion.
Consent workshops aren’t about preaching or judging. I attended a training session earlier this year that explained how they would work, and we discussed the sorts of things in everyday life we typically ask consent for. This ranged from seeing if a chair is free, to going to the toilet during a class. It revealed that we ultimately ask for people’s consent all the time, so in sex it should be no different. We also discussed how to “check in” with your partner, to see if they consent at different stages of an encounter, and the ways in which people in ongoing relationships can negotiate an understanding of consent. When feeding back to the session, the phrase that kept being repeated was “Just ask”.
The idea of affirmative and enthusiastic consent encourages people to regard sex as a positive, willing action. It’s about teaching women and men not to be ashamed of sex, and to proceed consciously and confidently. An understanding of consent engenders respect for everyone: from those who choose to refrain from sex to those who are in relationships, and those who engage in sex in a wide variety of situations. Consent is about ensuring that people are completely comfortable in their sexual decisions, whatever those might be.
Colleges at Cambridge have taken a big step by introducing consent talks and workshops – but I’d like to see these made compulsory in all universities across the UK. The workshops bring home the difficult truth that we are all capable of violating someone else’s consent, while creating a safe space to discuss the meaning of consenting positively and enthusiastically. They are empowering, and absolutely necessary.
It’s time for Muslim women to embrace vulnerability
This article was originally featured in gal-dem. You can read the original article here.
Recently an image of a woman, Saffiyah Khan, protecting another Muslim woman went viral. In this photo, Saffiyah is seen standing up to a raging EDL protester, unphased by the abuse being hurled at her. This image has fast become a symbol of Muslim women’s resistance to Islamophobia. Saffiyah was defending a fellow Muslim woman in a threatening situation and she should be applauded for her bravery. But we should not restrict ourselves to solely celebrating Muslim women’s defiance.
Women in broader society have begun embracing the value of vulnerability and Muslim women also need the space to express their whole selves. In a TED talk that went viral in 2010, American Professor Brene Brown explained the power of vulnerability. In her research, she explains that “we associate vulnerability with emotions we want to avoid such as fear, shame, and uncertainty. Yet we too often lose sight of the fact that vulnerability is also the birthplace of joy, belonging, creativity, authenticity, and love.” This message had a profound impact on women all over the world, with her talk racking up almost 30 million views.
“But this defensiveness shuts down the space that Muslim women should be allowed in order to question things”
For Muslim women, however, it still feels too dangerous to be vulnerable. Hate crimes have doubled since Brexit, and Muslim women who wear headscarves are particularly at risk. In March, the European court of justice ruled to ban the hijab in the workplace. With attacks from all sides, Muslim women around Europe, understandably responded with fervour, protesting outside the French embassy in London in March, and across Sweden on International Workers’ Day.
As others tried to threaten or control them, Muslim women answered with the defence of symbols like the headscarf – extolling its virtues, celebrating it as a form of liberation, and protecting it as a core part of their faith. But this defensiveness shuts down the space that Muslim women should be allowed in order to question things like the headscarf, to wonder if it is the right choice for them, and even to change their minds about whether or not they want to embrace it.
The need to present a unified front in the face of challenges to their identity is stifling Muslim women. Muslim women deserve to have a space to explore their multifaceted identities. They should be afforded the same nuance that others are given. They should not feel like they have to carry the weight of defending Islam on their shoulders and silence the parts of themselves that are uncertain in the process. It is time to develop spaces where vulnerability is allowed, accepted, and celebrated alongside defiance.
“Muslim women are complex, multidimensional, and have layers of identities”
A recently published anthology entitled The Things I Would Tell You: British Muslim Women Speak, is a valuable start. This anthology, filled with poems, plays, articles and short stories celebrates the art created by a variety of Muslim women in all media. It is not prescriptive, it does not make every writer talk about their experiences of being a British Muslim woman. Instead, it offers a space and platform for Muslim women to openly express their vulnerabilities through their art. The anthology showed that Muslim women are complex, multidimensional, and have layers of identities. They’re not one monolithic force.
I have been embracing my own vulnerability by sharing my own experiences. I wore a headscarf for years. I defended it to the hilt when people questioned it – despite being unhappy with wearing it. Then I decided to take it off. As a result, I felt like I had lost a part of myself, and like I had betrayed my family and my Muslim friends. Living as a Muslim woman can be a wonderful thing, but it can also be frustrating, complicated and confusing. Admitting that makes me feel stronger.
Sexism should have no place in university sports teams
This article was originally featured in The Guardian. You can read the original article here.
From ‘no-muffing’ events to sexist chants: sports societies can be hives of sexist activity and it’s time things changed.
In my college bar at Cambridge University, I tried to say hi to a friend. He didn’t speak to me. I could see his mouth attempt to move, and I could also see his friend’s penetrative stare stop him in his tracks.
We stood in awkward silence until my friend pulled me away, whispering in my ear that this was part of a rugby social game. The game is called “no muffing”. Its rules are as follows: no speaking to a female unless she is your waitress. If you break this, you get punched in the face.
Cambridge sports teams are not alone in having incredibly sexist themes to their social events. There’s the rugby group in Oxford, whose social secretary sent an e-mail to the team encouraging them to spike a fresher’s drink. The title of the e-mail was “Free Pussy”.
Also reported last year, was the college rugby club at Durham University playing the “it’s not rape if…” game. And the group of hockey lads at Stirling university singing a sexist and racist chant on a bus. The very same chant was used in a Varsity rugby match at Cambridge University months later.
We have been bombarded with images and news stories showing the ugly side of sports teams. Their activities, laden with sexist overtones, are reflective of a wider culture of hypermasculinity and sexism at university. Students are starting to recognise that this needs to change.
A student from DeMontfort University, Leicester, regards the people in the rugby and football societies as “disgusting”. The student says: “When they’re out on the town they seem to think they have the right to touch or grope any girl they want.”
Laura Bates, founder of the Everyday Sexism Project, says: “Sports culture reveals that there’s a huge amount of pressure on boys, a hypermasculinity that they’re pressured to perpetuate.
“Some young boys have said that they would really like to stand up and be able to support girls, but when they’ve tried, they’ve been ridiculed’.
For many, sports teams are a place of security, especially when suddenly unsettled by the switch from home to university life. One boy at Cambridge University described being part of a sports team as the “easiest way of being accepted”.
Yet he also mentioned the pressure that ensued once becoming part of the team, saying he was “sucked into” the lad banter.
This lad banter usually entails the humiliation of women. I spoke to one member of a university rowing team who said: “When we row we instantly rate the girls rowing near us. I know it’s chauvinistic, but I don’t give a shit”.
Another dismissed the idea of the “no muffing” game as being offensive: “it was pretty harmless, the confusion on the girls was funny”.
Bates describes the effects of this sort of attitude: “It dehumanises women. In order to prove yourself as a man you also have to show this disrespect of women.”
This is a problem that has been recognised by many university sports teams, and it is being increasingly addressed through workshops and conferences. A programme set up by students and graduates in Oxford called ‘The Good Lad Workshop’ aims to tackle the existence of lad culture in sports.
“Traditionally sports teams and groups of men are seen to be quite masculine,” says Dave Llewellyn, who runs the programme.
“When people actually sit down and chat they realise that everyone is on the same page, that no one is endorsing this behaviour. They just do it because they think that’s what everyone else does.
“I think in some cases there are students who feel ostracised by some behaviour and so don’t join a team or don’t stay as part of a team and I think that’s disappointing.”
In Stirling University there are efforts to address the struggles and barriers that women face in sport, culminating in the Women in Sport conference in October.
Rebecca Gracey, organiser of the conference says: “There is no denying that at time the atmosphere within [sports] clubs can be negative and offensive to others. The real aim and vision is to have a level playing field and slowly but surely we are seeing small steps in achieving this.”
It’s time that university sports teams critically assess the image that they give off to prospective participants. Sports teams have the potential to be powerfully inclusive, welcoming and community-forming environments.
University sports teams need to divest of the cult of masculinity that alienates other men and degrades women. They need to start making steps towards creating a safe environment that isn’t based on humiliation, intimidation or pressure.
What happened when I started a feminist society at my school
I am 17 years old and I am a feminist. I believe in gender equality, and am under no illusion about how far we are from achieving it. Identifying as a feminist has become particularly important to me since a school trip I took to Cambridge last year.
A group of men in a car started wolf-whistling and shouting sexual remarks at my friends and me. I asked the men if they thought it was appropriate for them to be abusing a group of 17-year-old girls. The response was furious. The men started swearing at me, called me a bitch and threw a cup coffee over me.
For those men we were just legs, breasts and pretty faces. Speaking up shattered their fantasy, and they responded violently to my voice.
Shockingly, the boys in my peer group have responded in exactly the same way to my feminism.
After returning from this school trip I started to notice how much the girls at my school suffer because of the pressures associated with our gender. Many of the girls have eating disorders, some have had peers heavily pressure them into sexual acts, others suffer in emotionally abusive relationships where they are constantly told they are worthless.
I decided to set up a feminist society at my school, which has previously been named one of “the best schools in the country”, to try to tackle these issues. However, this was more difficult than I imagined as my all-girls school was hesitant to allow the society. After a year-long struggle, the feminist society was finally ratified.
What I hadn’t anticipated on setting up the feminist society was a massive backlash from the boys in my wider peer circle. They took to Twitter and started a campaign of abuse against me. I was called a “feminist bitch”, accused of “feeding [girls] bullshit”, and in a particularly racist comment was told “all this feminism bull won’t stop uncle Sanjit from marrying you when you leave school”.
Our feminist society was derided with retorts such as, “FemSoc, is that for real? #DPMO” [don’t piss me off] and every attempt we made to start a serious debate was met with responses such as “feminism and rape are both ridiculously tiring”.
The more girls started to voice their opinions about gender issues, the more vitriolic the boys’ abuse became. One boy declared that “bitches should keep their bitchiness to their bitch-selves #BITCH” and another smugly quipped, “feminism doesn’t mean they don’t like the D, they just haven’t found one to satisfy them yet.” Any attempt we made to stick up for each other was aggressively shot down with “get in your lane before I par [ridicule] you too”, or belittled with remarks like “cute, they got offended”.
I fear that many boys of my age fundamentally don’t respect women. They want us around for parties, banter and most of all sex. But they don’t think of us as intellectual equals, highlighted by accusations of being hysterical and over sensitive when we attempted to discuss serious issues facing women.
The situation recently reached a crescendo when our feminist society decided to take part in a national project called Who Needs Feminism. We took photos of girls standing with a whiteboard on which they completed the sentence “I need feminism because…”, often delving into painful personal experiences to articulate why feminism was important to them.
When we posted these pictures online we were subject to a torrent of degrading and explicitly sexual comments.
We were told that our “militant vaginas” were “as dry as the Sahara desert”, girls who complained of sexual objectification in their photos were given ratings out of 10, details of the sex lives of some of the girls were posted beside their photos, and others were sent threatening messages warning them that things would soon “get personal”.
We, a group of 16-, 17- and 18-year-old girls, have made ourselves vulnerable by talking about our experiences of sexual and gender oppression only to elicit the wrath of our male peer group. Instead of our school taking action against such intimidating behaviour, it insisted that we remove the pictures. Without the support from our school, girls who had participated in the campaign were isolated, facing a great deal of verbal abuse with the full knowledge that there would be no repercussions for the perpetrators.
It’s been over a century since the birth of the suffragette movement and boys are still not being brought up to believe that women are their equals. Instead we have a whole new battleground opening up online where boys can attack, humiliate, belittle us and do everything in their power to destroy our confidence before we even leave high school.
It is appalling that an institution responsible for preparing young women for adult life has actively opposed our feminist work. I feel like the school is not supporting its girls in a crucial part of their evolution into being strong, assertive, confident women. If that’s the case for a well-established girls’ school, what hope does this generation of women have in challenging the misogyny that still pervades our society?
If you thought the fight for female equality was over, I’m sorry to tell you that a whole new round is only just beginning.
• Altrincham Grammar made the following comment about the feminist society:
“Altrincham Grammar School for Girls has supported Jinan in setting up the society, providing administrative assistance, guidance and proactively suggesting opportunities to help members to explore this issue which they feel passionately about.
“We are committed to protecting the safety and welfare of our students, which extends to their safety online. We consider very carefully any societies that the school gives its name and support to.
“As such, we will take steps to recommend students remove words or images that they place online that could compromise their safety or that of other students at the school.”