The Beauty Debt

Posted by Galatea

Horrible joke I remember from high school: 

Q: Why do women wear perfume and make-up?

A: Because they stink and they're ugly. 

Why don't men wear perfume and make-up?

A: Because they stink and they're ugly and they don't care. 

I've been noodling around this idea in my head for quite some time now – in fact, this is a version of a post I wrote lo these many years ago, about the time of the Great Fuss Over Susan Boyle Being On National TV in 2009. It’s about a concept that I think I want to call ‘the beauty debt'.

Essentially, what I’m thinking of when I say ‘beauty debt’ is the idea floating around in modern culture that women owe a certain standard of attractiveness to those who 'have' to look at them, and that if a woman's 'natural' beauty is not sufficient (and it very rarely is), she must perform a certain amount of beauty work in order to rectify the problem, to 'pay the debt' as it were. This work might involve shaving, waxing, dyeing, surgery, food restriction, exercise, straightening, lightening, tanning, all according to individual situation, sub/culture, race, class etc. It almost always involves paying money, and quite often involves physical discomfort or pain. I probably don't need to list here what happens if she fails to perform this work or fails to perform it to a sufficient standard, but what's interesting is that often the undercurrent is we don't want to see that!; she's hurting my eyes!, how dare she make us HAVE to see that!

Because it is difficult, and because it is joyful: living, relating and performing with a visibly imperfect voice

Posted by Valentina


Most people I have met are afraid to sing. Though I loved to do so, I was terrified to sing for many years, having been told by various people close to me that I sang badly. An epiphany came when I saw the Lashings panto last December. The members of Lashings sang well, though many did not sing perfectly - I think the image of 'perfect' I have in mind is something like that in Glee, where people can burst into perfectly-tuned, soaring and completely-backed songs at the drop of a hat, and on screen, it all just *works*. The Lashers sang well, and confidently, and they didn't sound as though they had just stepped out of Glee - they sang authentically, and in a relatable, un-autotuned way. Occasionally one would miss a note, or another would start a line a little late, and yet they were up there, singing loudly and confidently to an audience who had travelled and paid to see them perform - the Lashers knew they were good.

This was a staggering realisation to me. I realised that my own singing voice might not be perfect, but it was fine: it could even be good enough to perform with. I decided that I wouldn't mind missing notes or singing too quietly - why was it that I'd been working hard on fiercely loving the rest of my body image for years, but had allowed myself to berate my singing voice? I went and spoke with Lashings after the show, and a few weeks later, sang confidently and happily in a room of houmous-eating queers at my first rehearsal.

I'm still working on my fear of singing badly, but there's something else that's even scarier. I have a visible speech impairment. And now I'm doing cabaret that doesn't just involve singing, but speaking as well.

On feminism and submission [sexual assault triggers, possibly NSFW]

Posted by Goblin

I’m a feminist. Which is to say, I believe passionately in equality regardless of pretty much anything, and am frequently and uncomfortably outspoken about the numerous instances of misogyny, oppression, and sheer bloody impoliteness contemporary society all too often throws at us. Occasionally I have hour-long arguments with anyone from friends to virtual strangers because they tossed some casually gender-essentialist remark over their shoulders.
(Admittedly, I also have precisely no smalltalk, so almost any conversation with anyone is likely to head into more-or-less sociopolitical territory fairly early on, but I remain unconvinced this is entirely a bad thing.) I would fight for any human being’s right to opportunity, expression, ambition and fulfilment regardless of gender, race, sexuality, religious affiliation, or geographical situation (yes, this does get exhausting) and tend to find the deliberate abuse – or even exercise – of power in everyday life, particularly when this interacts negatively with various axes of privilege, pretty repellent, actually. Before I start enumerating my sexual proclivities in unwelcome detail, for ideological reasons which will hopefully become apparent, it's worth pointing out that I tend to fancy geeks, of any gender – people who have enough intelligence and individuality to question or bypass socially determined templates for success. FTR, in particular, anybody projecting the trappings of aggressive macho-linity leaves me completely cold.

Five Fat Facts

Posted by Sebastienne




I thought it was time to unpack some of the assumptions behind our RENT filk, "Fat". (Lyrics)

1. "Fat" is a neutral descriptive term. It describes the way that a person's body carries adipose tissue, and says precisely nothing about their moral character, their health, their lifestyle, or their attractiveness. It is not offensive to call me fat - but it is offensive to assume that using the term to describe me is in some way insulting. And as for "but you're not fat - you're gorgeous!" - care to elaborate on what your problem is with my being both of these things?

Now - of course - as with any self-identification, there are going to be people who disagree with me here. Fat is a descriptive term with a nasty history - like "queer" or "dyke" - and there are going to be people who won't want to apply it to themselves under any circumstances; we have to respect that.

The little things

Posted by Annalytica

Feminists like to make a fuss over the little things. Throwaway remarks about apparently minor incidents are dissected for all their offensive implications, and as we pick them apart we get angry. Often people observing the dissection and the anger get the impression that the thing responsible for making us so upset is the feminism. It seems that we’ve invented new ways of getting offended and taught ourselves to get worked up and upset over things which never would have bothered us before we discovered feminism.