SPIRIT OF SUFFRAGETTE - ALIVE AND KICKING

 Men are afraid because women are angry and women are angry because women are afraid. Just that when men are afraid they punch and kick and when women are angry they cry.   So it looks like the reverse.   Being feminine is being empathetic and angry.   I thought of all those things when I attended an event at the Museum of London Audley Square Spirit of Suffragette meet.   Fascinating meeting the panel for a lively and embracing discussion on women's voices.   I also thought back to one of my first journalist gigs at the BFI, to celebrate, oddly enough, the suffragette movement.  Barbara Castle, then minister for education, was there, signing copies of her recently published autobiography. She was autographing books, as women some of whom had brought their little dogs queued to speak to and have their books signed, but the dogs they brought were taking gulps of her Gin and Tonic.   I looked down and said I would get her another one, which I promptly did, waiting patiently for her to finish. She turned, clapped her hands on her lap which was her way, and said 'what can I do for you young lady?"  

I told her, "my name is Sarah Tucker, I'm writing a piece for the Londoner's Diary, Evening Standard..."

I asked questions, she gave straight answers. I asked further questions, writing down what was pertinent to the suffragette movement, and thanked her.   She looked at me.  

"You been a a journalist long?" she asked. 

Shit, what have I done. 

"Erm, only a month or so."

"Don't change. You are good. You're a listener. You listen and ask good questions. Don't lose your femininity.  A lot of female journalists think they need to be tougher and nastier than the men. They don't. Being a woman is more than enough."

I was so taken aback, I didn't get her to sign a copy of her autobiography.   And so I thanked her.  

I looked at my book and thought, no, I'm gonna ask her.  I went over to the lectern, from which she was just about to give a speech before the film started, and I asked her. She took the book and looked at me.  Returned it to me and then I thanked her and walked away.  On the bus I phoned in filing the copy.  And then I opened my book.  In it read the words 'Dear Sarah, Never let it be a man's world, Love Barbara Castle'.

I would add, never let it be a puerile man's world.   Never forgotten her words, or the spirit of her words. Doesn't matter how you do it, but always subvert the patriarchal, misogynistic narrative in the way you live, work, speak, write.   And keep hold of your drinks when little dogs are around.

THE STYLE (ISH) SCREAMERS

 I attended a Harry Styles concert this week. I didn't have a daughter in tow, I went by myself as it was my 59th birthday and wanted to treat myself.   I came away feeling a bit like David Attenborough going into the jungle for the first time, and being surprised by what I found.  Harry is a very handsome man, good singer, with a penchant for dungarees which gives him the feel of an Andy Pandy with sparkles.   In this case, loads of sparkling hearts.   He bounced about the stage like a tigger, engaged and cared for the audience - on my night helping a girl to 'come out', and someone needed water in the audience.   Everything was very well orchestrated.  The musicians were on point, sufficiently trendy, cool or whatever the word is for trendy and cool at the moment, and the warm up bands - Mila Diaz (I think) who was like an Alannis Morisette both in style and lyrics (talking break ups) and Wet Leg who everyone seemed to know. They were across between Bjork and Coldplay.  Really liked them, but boy the lyrics.  And then Harry who was on for two hours, with four encore tracks.   But it wasn't him that blew my mind, it was the audience. 

They screamed.  They sang verbatim to the warm up songs (Angels Robbie Williams, Bohemian Rhapsody Queen) and knew every single word of every single one of Harry's tracks.   Sometimes I was unable to hear him because the audience of 80,000 strong women, many of whom I am told will attend two or three times this week at Wembley, were screaming so much.   Think Elvis Presley/Beatles/Donny Osmond fans.   Wet Leg did a screaming song before hand and the audience showed they had lungs on them. 

Very pleased I went. If anyone wants a good scream and not feel alone.  Wants a powerful DGF vibe - go see Harry.   Just take the boas, cowboy hats and sequins, and if you are one of the few blokes there, go as they did, dress as a banana.  Lots of banana blokes there.  

PRETTY IN PINK OR JUST WEAK?

 BARBIE is out soon, and looking at femininity and feminism and all things pink I find of interest.   I bought a magazine called PINK in the supermarket as it was for a child audience and wanted to see what little girls were being fed. Free gifts of mermaid slime, barbie playing cards and barbie mobile phone holder.  Pink stickers.   And teddy bears, and Ariel and Snow White and Encanto (a bit more kick ass) and a bit about dollhouses, and hello kitty, and Frozen II (more kick ass).  I found out my Frozen II name is Lady Willow Sparkling Forest.   Yeahhhh.   I am so Lady Willow Sparkling Forest!  

 I was always a tom-boy, climbing trees, and being outside in the countryside, having more fun with the boys than the girls, because they had more fun.   The girls played with dolls, were inside, sitting quietly, or bitching, the boys were outdoors, running, getting mucky and being dangerous. That IS more fun.   I am still very much that way. My dad brought me up really as a boy, saying 'give in give in' before I had hit the first ball on the tennis court.   My dad's philosophy was never ever give in. My mother's 'you will need support from a man' which sort of conflicts with dad's philosophy.   In the end I chose dad's because it is better, stronger, enabling and for me, right.   I'm a feminine female, love colour and nature and 'the stuff of experience rather than the experience of stuff'.  I still think men have more fun, and as a mother (a role I loved), had much more fun without being married than I ever would have, being married. I suppose again that is different for all women.   I think there would be times when it would be useful to have a man about, but I have an invisible one, who appears when I need the plumbing done, or the electricity fixed or some such.  But best still to learn how to do it yourself.   And learn to do stuff. Fly, drive better, swim better, paint better.   Live better.   I am still in a way that Tom-boy climbing trees and being outside in the countryside, having more fun with the boys than the girls, because they still are, more fun.