Clare Herbert

In my lifetime, being a feminist has never been a popular position to hold. Perhaps in the 60s, women wore their liberation as a badge of honour, but not now. Now, feminists are classed as man-eaters, as OTT bitches with an over-developed sense of self-importance, as pathetically out of touch with the real world, and of course, as completely unattractive to men. (Perish the thought!) I was something of a novelty in college, the token class feminist, a subject of derision and laughter.

But, I’m still a feminist and this is why.

• The most dangerous place for any women is in their own home. A phenomenal 1 in 4 women will experience domestic violence in their lives. The same number that are thought to experience sexual abuse. We hear lots about sexual abuse, and very little about gender based violence.  On the day I get married (if that day ever comes), I expect to be eyeing my husband-to-be and thinking “you might love me forever, but you’re also the mostly likely person to kill me”.
• As a society, we’ve an absurd attitude to rape. Remember the Listowel case where the locals shook hands with the convicted rapist and ostracized the victim. Very few rapes come to trial and fewer still get convictions. And any woman that’s raped is burdened by the fear that people may not believe her, may think that it’s her fault, may ostracize her.
• Women earn less than men. It’s that simple. Make all the excuses you like, but that’s what it boils down too. I will work harder for longer to reach the top of the pay scale.
• Women who stay at home to rear their children are unpaid. Sure, they get child benefit paid directly to them to cater for the children’s needs. But, there’s no payment for their work as homemakers, cooks, tutors, psychologists,. accountants and managers in the home. As someone who manages a home, I know this adds up to a significant amount of hours in what is a very challenging role. If I crossed the street and managed my neighbour’s home, I’d expect to earn 60,000 a year.  Instead, I earn zero.
• Women are expected to be attractive. If a man’s a minger, that’s unfortunate. If a woman’s looking a bit rough, then she ought to stay home and spruce herself up. Have you ever thought about all the hours women spend primping and preening? Tanning, tweezing, waxing, hair colouring, adding make up, removing wrinkles? Ever thought about the cost of it? Women’s beauty products cost more than men’s, for sure. Sure some women enjoy it – it’s a form of relaxation.   I am partial to the occasional long bath, myself.) But to be culturally obligated by society to be a hottie 24/7 is wrong. Women who don’t wear make up are much less likely to be promoted. Sure, men spruce themselves up too. But, we’re talking a quick shower and shave, not a regime of beauty that occupies many hours per week and costs a bomb.
• Mostly though, I hate the expectations that come with being a woman. “Sure, why are you developing your career, you’re gonna be home with the kids in a few years?”. “Why bother with a masters, you’re only gonna hit a glass ceiling?”, “why aren’t you dating?”.
• Women are vastly over-represented in the caring professions, some of the toughest jobs there are. If today something tragic were to happen if your family (God forbid), would it be a female relative who’d give up their life to be a carer? Generally, yes. 64% of carers are women according to CSO. Women are expected to be nurturers, and considered bitches if they’re not.  By nature (or maybe by nurture), I am a carer. I do play that role, but I hate that I’m expected to. That my choice is diminished, because I’m female.
• Women are under-represented in every area of public life. If I one day, in a moment of madness, I decide to run for office (which is unlikely). It’ll be a hard sell to get elected. It’s harder for women to get elected. We are judged under different criteria. Party systems do not favour selecting women. I doubt we’d be in as much of a mess as we are now if there were more women in public office. South Africa and Saudi Arabia have more women in public office than we do.
• Women are objects. Sexual objects. Prostitution is about the subjugation of women by men for profit. Newspapers sell when amply-bosomed girls look saucy on their pages. Advertising is often blatantly sexist too. Remember this? The sex industry is the word’s third largest after weapons and guns. Worldwide, women are bought and sold like cattle, traded as sex slaves. Women just like me are bought and sold and used for their bodies. How can you not be a feminist in a world like that?
• I’ve seen many friends gussy themselves up and take provocative photos to stick up on Facebook. Pole dancing seems to be in vogue at the moment. Wide-eyed innocent girls that have never been sex kittens are happy to swap their self-respect in order to emulate the page 3 nonsense men supposedly go for.
• Women are starving themselves to fit the ideal look, as propagated by the media. Women wear clothes designed to hurt and hinder them. Women are considered past it at 45.
• Women are poorer. Women grow most of the world’s food but represent two-thirds of the world’s poor. Thousands of women die everyday in child birth. Women are raped and tortured as a weapon of war. Women suffer barbaric female genital mutilation, and in lots of societies that’s OK.  There are women in the world who can’t vote. Women are brutally murdered for minor crimes like stealing a loaf of bread. Female foetuses are aborted in China as they’re considered ‘less than a man”. “Women do two-thirds of the world’s work, receive 10 percent of the world’s income and own 1 percent of the means of production.” (Source: Richard H. Robbins, Global Problems and the Culture of Capitalism, (Allyn and Bacon, 1999), p. 354)
• Women are cruel to other women. The idea of competing over a man has not been shaken off. I recently spent one lazy Saturday on the couch watching telly with a girlie friend. We watched all the typical, trashy shows (America’s Next Top Model, What Not to Wear, some nonsense about 50 million types of diets) and I saw the venom with which women hate other women. I’m so glad we didn’t have Sky in my house; I’m sure I would have ended up with all sorts of body complexes. Women’s bodies are seen as objects rather than functional machines.

I’m an avowed feminist. Girls quite happily accept that men and women are different (yes, I agree.) and that their destiny is to live in a world where what’s ON their heads is more important than what’s IN their heads.  Where they will earn less than men throughout their lives, leaving them in a sticky spot when it comes to pension time. When they are expected to be the happy, stay at home lady for no pay, and where they think that it’s OK for women to be trafficked and sold as commodities. Our cultural demands women to split themselves in seven pieces and still have time to shave their legs. It means that I’ll have to work harder and for longer than men to achieve my goals.

The feminist movement isn’t dead. It’s on life support. It’s time young women woke up and started to demand more. It’s not about polemic or men-hating or bra-burning. It’s about your life, everyday.

And, that’s why I’m a feminist. Young women, I don’t get it. Why aren’t you a feminist?

As I was away last week, I’ve had lots of reading to catch up on this week. This is a long post; the silly season seems to agree with me. Enjoy!

The complexity of the situation in Niger.

On self-service.

Why family and politics don’t mix. I wrote a similar piece here.

The reality of homes without electricity.

How the internet disconnects people.

On Liam Twomey and Beal na Blath.

Northern Students.

The trouble with NGOs.

I arrived back from KL, Malaysia on Sunday and have been in a jet lagged haze ever since. It’s definitely harder to fly west than east. I’m working on a final round up of my trip, as well as some other posts, but it’s going to take me a day or two to feel normal again.

In the mean time, I thought I’d post the speech I made to the ‘Online Journalism: Changes and Challenges” conference. My brief was to give a personal reflection on blogging and and being a blogger with the Th!nk3: Developing World project. Much of my speech was based on this article.

I’m having trouble embedding the video, so for the moment, you can view my speech here. I hope you enjoy it.

Again between jet lag, the heat and a packed schedule, I’m exhausted writing this. Apologies if it’s bad.

Tuesday was my first day in the field. It was hot, sticky and rife with mosquitoes and I was wrecked having gotten just 2 hours sleep, but I loved it. The best way to learn truly is to experience. Amazing day. We visited the Kuala Selangor National Park and the Mah Meri, Tompoq Topoh Women’s community.

Kuala Selangor National Park was interesting. We’d a talk from the manager about his work in environmental conservation, running education programs for young people and the relationship between NGOS, corporations and the state. We took a tour of the mangrove forest, saw monkeys having their dinner and planted some trees. I named my tree Clare.

After a quick lunch in a sea food restaurant beside a very smelly sea, we hit the road to meet ‘Orang Asli’ indigenous women in a very rural spot of Malaysia. We drove for almost 2 hours and I caught up on sleep over the very bumpy roads. This grouping constitutes less than 1% of the Malay population and there are less than 3,000 remaining. We met with about 10 women and young, barefoot and giddy kids. The women run a micro enterprise, producing weaved baskets, beautiful wood carvings, masks, musical instruments and puzzles. Having previously worked with a ‘middle man’, the enterprise is now run entirely by the women of the village. A nomadic volunteer run stall targets tourists in Kuala Lumpur and 100% of the money spent is returned to the indigenous community. Through a translator, we learned about the women and their work. We took a little tour of their area, seeing their homes and ever shrinking plots of land. The women were fantastic. Proud, entrepreneurial, innovative, interesting, warm, friendly and self-reliant. Without doubt, this was the highlight of the trip so far. You can learn more of about them here.

That night, the ‘Online Journalism: Changes and Challenges’ conference began with a delicious meal and some very interesting people. I spoke twice today, presenting a case study on my experiences as a blogger (both with the TH!NK3 project and personally) and contributing to a panel on ‘Blogging Journalists: Death of Rebirth of Journalism?’ My contributions were filmed so I’ll link to them when they’re online. You can also follow via the hashtag #klonline on Twitter.

Tonight, we’d another delicious seafood meal. I could easily come home with gills given all the fish I’ve eaten. The food has been great. I’ve tasted all sorts of wonderful dishes, including jellyfish, razor shellfish and an alcoholic drink made from fermented coconut water that tasted like gone off juice.

The conference continues tomorrow and concludes with a field trip in KL on Friday. Then, I’ve a day in the half of sightseeing before my flight home Sunday morning.

More soon.

…and not a drop to drink.(Via Worldvision)

As some of you may know, I wrote a political blog as part of the Rock The Vote campaign back in 2007. While I’m in Malaysia, this week, I thought I’d repost few of my columns. They make for interested reading in hindsight.

Here’s the second installment.

Last week, I was annoyed. Today, I’m disillusioned. The media are tripping over themselves to expose what are the issues for ‘young people’. Well, they’re as many, complex and varied as the rest of the population.  I despise young commentators with self-appointed regal authority to speak ‘for’ young people, as if the remainder of my demographic were inarticulate plebs. So, I’ll simply speak for myself.

As an undecided voter, I’m eager to make good use of my number one. I encountered Emmet Stagg for the first time last week. Standing at the bus stop, he drove by in biggest, blackest, shiniest car I’ve ever seen and picked up the eccentric old women who’d been sharing her life story with me. I, a fellow constituent, was left standing there although perhaps accepting a lift with Emmet Stagg should carry a government warning!  But, it got me thinking on the people elect to represent us.

Just as young people get pigeon holed into one great, generic vote, politicians come in only a limited number of packages.  The dynasty candidate, hoping to retain Daddy’s seat. The old hand, who’s been in the Dáil, didn’t do much, but wants to stick around the fountains of power. There are the ‘ah sure why nots?’ who run for the craic and flit from constituencies like happy, hopeful fleas. The Ground Workers who spend their days filling out medical card forms and arranging buses from bingo. There are the spokespeople who never shut up, the Die Hards who’d follow their party into a suir and the plain clueless who wouldn’t know the Dail from a dinner dance.

Every election throws up a few oddities too. The PDs are running the fella from the Sensodyne Ad on the telly and that guy who used to play the piano on the Late Late! FF and FG have tapped into GAA circles to steal a few footballers.  I mean Graham Geraghty as a legislator, come on?!

Then, there are the newbies. Those so idealistic, that it’s painful to hear how wonderful a world ruled by them would be. A world that could, but won’t, become a reality on the back of a handful of candidates. They speak the truth and somewhat naively see it coming to fruition on their ascendancy to power. Unstained by the dirty political game, and determined to stay out of it., they see solutions to problems and scorn the irrelevancies of the vested interests. What they lack in experience they make up for in the enthusiasm. This is where’d I’d love to cast my vote. The day an idealist with an ounce of sense, hope for the future and determination to work every day he/she’s given is the day I decide where my first preference vote goes.  Living in the real world, I know they won’t change the world but they’ll certainly be better at running it than tired, reactive incumbents and ambitious but aimless wannabes.

Life for those with political blood in our veins gets very exciting at election time. But, democracy is not simply about ticking boxes every five years.  It has been said that we now expect more from government than we do from God. So by all means, hold your politicians to account and hit them where it hurts on May 24th.  But citizenship comes with responsibilities too and dissatisfaction with the status quo is no excuse for apathy or inaction. Rather, it should galvanize people into action.

I’ve been travelling for 40 hours. I’m tired. If this post is rambly, incoherent and grammatically incorrect, that’s why. I’m exhausted. My flight outta Dublin was delayed so I missed my connection to Kuala Lumpur (KL). That meant an overnight stay in a London hotel. It was the ‘Renaissance’ hotel from the movie ‘Closer’. The name was metaphorical in the movie but not in real life. No rebirth for me. I woke up in the same yucky clothes 5 hours after reaching my bed and dashed to Heathrow to try to get a flight. I learned a lesson. In future, my carry on bag will contain clean clothes and a toothbrush. It was stressful: running between terminals, trying to navigate the maze that is Heathrow, having to be constantly watchful.

I got a flight out at noon. I set off the beep machine and got a very thorough searching from a female security guard. What an awful job. I felt bad for her.

The flight to KL was long. 12 hours and 20 minutes. I watched two movies (The Greatest and Time Traveler’s Wife) 2 episodes of Glee and a whole load of other nonsense. It reminded me why I don’t watch television. Most of it is crap!

I read a lot. I tried to sleep but didn’t succeed. The 30-something English couple next to me were busy getting drunk and slipping away together for some mile high club action in the bathrooms. You’d think at their age…

Landed in KL. Incredibly hot. I’m so tired I can bearly understand people when they speak. Their heads are bobbing around on top of their bodies.

The humidity would knock you over. It’s only about 25 degrees today but sticky. I’m used to DC weather and it’s humidity, but this was ten times worse. I stocked up on bottled water, and reckon I’ll need it.

Took a taxi from the airport. Struck by the palm tress, tall and majestic everywhere. Malaysian drivers are loons. Doing 120K in a 70 zone, swerving between lanes, never using an indicator, pedestrians seem to wander among the traffic too. I hear this is normal.

Reached my hotel. Kind size bed. Pool, gym, spa. I’d be very surprised if I get near any of them. The Hilton. Very nice. Slept for a few hours, showered (glorious) and headed out for grub and exploring.

I’m staying in the Hilton in a place called Petaling Jaya, which I think is a suburb of KL. I got the metro into the central market area just to get a sense of the place. The metro is very efficient, just like DC. Cheap too. 2 Ringits, which is about 80 cent.

The was out and about at commuting time, though it wasn’t overly busy. I got lots of stares on the metro. I guess red heads are rare in these parts.

The market was lovely, but pretty touristy. Do people actually buy this crap? I didn’t, but enjoyed getting to see the city a little.

It’s Ramadan here at the moment, so there was a gigantic buffet for dinner in the hotel. Chinese, Indian, Malaysian. About 50 different dishes and a great dessert spread. Of course I went nuts and tried a little of everything. I’ve no idea what most of it was, but it was yum.

I tried to get and early night and thought I was doing well by being tucked up in bed by ten. I slept for 2 hours and then stayed awake for 6. It’s just coming up on 6am here, and we’re hitting the road at 7. I think this is what jet lag feels like. I am exhausted but my body is refusing to sleep. The adrenaline of the last few days isn’t helping, nor is my persistent clock watching. It’s gonna be a caffeine days and then a very early night.

I missed the first day of our program here, which is disappointing. My colleagues visited the Raja Musa Forest Reserve Project and the Water Project with the Global Environment Centre yesterday.

Today we’re visiting Kuala Selangor National Park and the Mah Meri, Tompoq Topoh Women’s community. Should be fun.

More later.

P.S. I’ll add pics later too.

As some of you may know, I wrote a political blog as part of the Rock The Vote campaign back in 2007. While I’m in Malaysia, this week, I thought I’d repost  few of my past columns. They make for interested reading in hindsight.

This column was strategically delayed, to take in a favourite of mine on the electioneering calendar: The Leaders’ Debate: Round One.

There’s nothing like live television to add spontaneity and sparkle to even the driest of political leaders. The expanse of marine blue made the Prime Time studio seem like an aquarium. Deep, daunting music revealed the leaders of our country around the biggest table RTE could find. A precaution, perhaps, against an over-enthusiastic McDowell taking his watchdog label a little too literally and leaping from his seat to take a bite out of a thrilled Rabbitte. Mark Little was professional, as always. His calm, austere authority masking the excitement of his inner toddler hopping up and down with excitement, I imagine.

The evening began with a brief appeal by all four leaders: Rabbitte, Adams, McDowell and Sargent.  Mini-bytes of their conference speeches, really. Rabbitte tried to tug at the emotional strings, but was far too cold to be trusted. Adams revelled in his anti-establishment role, McDowell played the reliable PD card of economic success and Sergent asked the electorate to vote Green ‘for their children’.

In terms of issues, Rabbitte harped on  (without specifics) about public services, McDowell pushed the economics at the expense of anything else, Adams demanded equality and Sergeant had a three point plan: green policies, an end to dirty politics and education. The debate was doubtlessly one-sided, with McDowell left to bat solo for the government.  He offered only a brief defence, opting instead for a systematic attack on the alternative coalition.  ‘Left Wing, No Thanks’’ was the party line, and McDowell was sticking to it.

“Let’s all take a small, deep breath” said Little, as personal squabbles simmered to the surface. McDowell dug up Adams’ alleged past in the IRA. Adams denied it, saying he wouldn’t get involved in ‘an unseemly squabble’. But heck, he did anyway.  Quip of the night goes to Rabbitte’s description of McDowell as ‘a veteran attention seeker, a menopausal Paris Hilton’. The row got bitchy, and Rabbitte was better at that. McDowell’s later described the opposition and their ‘flapping about’ as ‘the left (Lab), the hard left (SF) and the leftovers (Greens)’.  Sargent retorted that the PDs were ‘peddlers of despair and deceit’.

Early on, Pat Rabbitte claimed that people don’t want to watch “Auld fellows like us, debating as if we were in the L&H””. Well, a proud, political geek, I loved it.

Apart from a great night’s telly though, the debate reiterated the importance of this election. More than parties, personnel, policy or even the popularity contest, this election will decide the direction of Ireland.  My life will be unrecognisable in five years time and whomever we elect will shape that future. That’s why I’ll definitely cast my vote, despite my disillusionment with what’s on offer. Plus if you don’t vote, you can’t legitimately complain, and that’s where I intend to make my career.

The campaign’s pace will quicken from here, and the excitement will only increase. But voters learned an important lesson tonight: voting is not a luxury but a necessity.

I’m away to Malaysia tomorrow so things are going to be quiet here for the next week or so. I’ve scheduled a few posts to keep you occupied, and I’ll post from Kuala Lumpur if I’ve got internet access at the hotel. In the mean time, enjoy these links.

How rich are you? If you click one link, click this one.

What’s it like to wear a Hijab in Ireland? Great piece.

I’ve a few friends on J1s in the US this summer. They should read this.

Fabulous faux-retro social networking ads.

There’s me. Contributing to Unicef’s Blog.

What a great way to quit your job.

How blogging benefits your career. More examples of success.

So, having written about why I blog and how to be a better blogger, I thought I’d share some of my favourite bloggers with you.

I read loads of blogs; I’ve hundreds on my Google Reader. So, I’ve decided to limit it to my top five. (Plus, a few Irish suggestions).  They’re a diverse mix with a few key commonalities. Firstly, they’ve a very positive outlook and a clear, authentic voice. Secondly, they post regularly, have pretty, easy to navigate sites and are consistent with their topic.

Young House Love – This is an interior design blog by a young couple in the States. They’re eco-friendly, cheap, do-it-yourself types just like me, so I’m reading about kindred spirits. My style would be much more modern than theirs but I’ve picked up some great ideas there and love their positive attitudes and chatty posts.

What I Wore – I never buy women’s magazines, because they hate women. Instead, I absorb my fashion online. I read a clutch of Irish fashion blogs and a few high-fashion US ones, but this is the one I always return to. It’s just a typical New York girl who takes photos of what she wears everyday. There are lots of repeated items which is nice, as sometimes these fashion blogger types seem to have an endless wardrobe. She’s got a great can do attitude too.

Brazen Careerist – This is one of the ladies that convinces me that blogging is worthwhile. She blogs ‘at the intersection of life and career’ which means that she talks bout everything with a career slant to it. It’s often very personal about her husband, divorce, her sex life, her kids but always on the button when it comes to modern careers. She’s a big advocate of blogging for career development too.

Steve Pavlina –Steve Pavlina runs a great, and very popular, blog on personal development.  I don’t agree with him 100% but he has some great ideas and I’ve picked up lots of great tips, particularly when it comes to time management. He’s also got a healthy does of skepticism about the self-help genre which is both necessary and appealing. There’s lots of great stuff in his archive and all his content is free.

Gala Darling – Gala Darling has a cult-like audience among young girls in particular, for her fashion and lifestyle blog. Recently, she hasn’t been prolific and I wasn’t impressed by her Love and Sequins series. But, there are some gems stashed away in her archives. Again, she’s very unique and endlessly positive.

The Irish blogging scene is still pretty small. I read Maman Poulet regularly for interesting tid bits from the news. I love The Anti-Room girls for their take on women’s issues.

So – they are my picks? What are your favourite blogs? I’m always looking to find new ones so please do share.