Deeds, not words - What really happened to Emily Davison?

The 1913 Derby: Emily Davison is killed colliding with Anmer, the King's horse.

Two very different TV programmes captivated me this week, and they shared both obvious and subtle connections heightened by my happening to watch them back to back. In the depressing spin cycle of feminist setbacks there is something to be said for taking an accidental 100 year view on the 4th June, the day feminism took to the track.

The first programme was Clare Balding's 'Secrets of a Suffragette' on Channel 4 (view here on 4OD), and the other was 'The Queen: A Passion for Horses' on BBC1 (see BBC iplayer), also presented by Balding whose grandfather, father and brother have all trained racehorses for the Queen.

In the first programme Balding and her team examine one of the greatest events in British feminist history - that of the death of Emily Davison at the Epsom Derby 100 years ago under King George the Fifth's racehorse, Anmer.

Emily Davison, a member of the Women's Social and Political Union (WSPU) which was formed in 1903 by Emmeline Pankhurst, has largely been presented in history as a madwoman who deliberately went to Epsom to kill herself in the name of her movement. Her death, three days later from internal injuries, divided many around the country. Some argued her actions were necessary, many said she was a lunatic, and others have since said she set her own movement back in achieving its goals, particularly given the popularity of the Royal Family at the time, though it was widely believed the collision with the King's horse in particular could not have been planned.

Quite apart from the event itself the programme showed me how little I know about the sufragette movement, the women who developed and participated in it, and the theory behind their motto 'Deeds not words.' Before the programme my hazy assumptions would have been that Davison ran onto the track to kill herself to fight for her cause. Brave, yes, but probably unbalanced of mind too.

This has been disputed since the day itself but Balding's Channel 4 programme goes further to try to uncover the truth. They investigate Davison's known militant history, the consequences of her multiple terms in prison for violent attacks and arson, and her serious attempt to injure herself by throwing herself down an iron stairwell to bring an end to repeated force feeding regimes the imprisoned women faced in answer to their hunger strikes. This side of the investigation was particularly hard to watch - the mouth clamps, the funnels and tubing. They were lucky if wardens found their stomachs, and unlucky if they had gruel poured into their lungs. Apart from the mental trauma, many women suffered gastric and other illnesses for the rest of their lives.

But the main focus of the programme and of the team's investigation was footage of the Derby race itself and how it brings new evidence to light which suggests that Davison did not mean to die that day. The programme shows Davison and her actions on that day from new angles, and consolidates it with evidence found on the track. In summary, the footage appears to show Davison seeking out the King's horse from a vantage point good enough to allow it. It then shows her dodging several other horses, and then seeming to draw something from her clothes - a sash, it is thought. The argument goes that a sash, embroidered with the words 'Votes for Women' was found at the scene of the collision by a race official who saved it from the turmoil and later passed it on. It was bought recently at auction by writer Barbara Gordon who, importantly, outbid the Jockey Club itself. Clare Balding argues that the strong bidding by the Jockey Club points to the authenticity of the sash and the theory that Davison did not intend to kill herself at Epsom, but instead intended to attach the sash to the horse, perhaps to its bridle as it galloped by, as a high profile way to petition the King directly for her cause. The sash now hangs in the Houses of Parliament.

A sad postscript to this story was that the jockey who collided with Davison, Herbert Jones, killed himself years later in 1951, as it was said he never recovered from the sight of Davison's face as he rode into her. He attended Emmeline Pankhurst's funeral, in 1928 (the same year women achieved universal sufferage), where he laid a wreath for both women 'to do honour to the memory of Mrs Pankhurst and Miss Emily Davison.'

In watching the programme I was struck by how little the women's suffragette movement survives on. A few interested societies, a few historians who uncover pieces of evidence here or there, a grave in Morpeth with the slogan 'Deeds, not words.'

In Balding's lighter piece, charting the Queen's history and passion for horses, we watch another Regent's bid to become a Derby winner...one of the only major races to elude her stable. But apart from this obvious connection to Davison's history and her grandfather, George the Fifth, there was a wonderful moment in this programme where, the day after attending Baroness Thatcher's funeral, the Queen takes to the Winners Circle at Newbury to receive a trophy for a horse ridden to victory by a young woman, Hayley Turner. The pictures tell a thousand words.

And so I went to bed thinking a hero, a monarch, an owner, a TV star and a winner. That is the difference 100 years makes.

Pop music is fucked

by Gabrielle Jackson

Now, I’m not one for popular culture, but sitting around in bars and cafés for hours on end exposes one to such things. For the most part, it’s been fun, and I’ve been seen bopping along to the tune of my keyboard in more than one hot spot. And then I started hearing the lyrics. And then, even worse, I saw the film clips!

At the risk of revealing of my age and my closet prudishness, I’ve got to say I was shocked. Well, no, shocked isn’t quite right since I realise I’m not expressing a highly original opinion. I’ve heard it said, but until you see it, you really don’t understand. To say I was profoundly disappointed would be more accurate an expression.

Is every song in the top 40 (do they still have such a thing?) about fucking? I use the ‘f’ word on purpose. I have no problem with songs about love or sex, really, my problem is with the way it is represented. Because it really is fucking we’re talking about here, rather more clearly than love or sex or longing or heartache.

I swear I heard a song – by a man – saying over and over again, ‘Tonight I’m fucking you’. I thought to myself, ‘Not if you keep that up, you won’t be!’ with a great hurumph for all womankind. And then I heard Rihanna singing a song about how she’s a good girl but loves a bit of S&M. AND THEN I saw some film clips and realised that, actually, that’s what they appear to want, these women, they want to be fucked. Not loved or longed for; fucked. Almost every song by a woman featured her in some skimpy outfit making suggestive – submissive – motions to the camera.

Beyoncé appeared to be singing a song about girls ruling the world while writhing around on the ground in a pair of underpants. I don’t know if the message we’re to take from this is that girls can rule the world by being fucked by all the men in it. Because, dear Beyoncé, I hate to break it to you, but we’re already being fucked by all the men in the world without having to ask for it.

Beyoncé’s sexuality is so instinctive, so primal, that my nephew, when he was four, exclaimed to my sister upon seeing one of her videos, ‘Oh Mama, I like the way she moves!’ There’s no doubt about it, she’s one sexy woman, and there’s nothing wrong with being sexy. I love Beyoncé, but does she have to go for it in every film clip? Surely, the sum of her talent amounts to more than her amazing body.

Perhaps the wealth of their talent lets Adele and Alicia Keys off the hook for having to submit to this kind of embarrassing exhibition. And I do hope it is the wealth of their talent that has them emerge as the role models for young women, because I really don’t want my nieces and nephews to grow up thinking that the point of being a woman is purely to be desired by a man.

Come on girls, it’s 2013, can’t we do better for ourselves?

This post originally appeared on KebabQuest

Vagina. Half the world has one

By Gabrielle Jackson

It was in response to the bodyform brouhaha in October that I changed my Facebook status to ‘Vagina’.
 

What happened, for those who missed it, was a young man wrote on the Facebook page of bodyform – a sanitary word, sorry, products brand – asking why they lie about women’s periods in their commercials. Bodyform responded with a humorous YouTube clip saying that when they tested adverts telling the truth about menstruation men couldn’t handle it. They cried.

You can view it here:

Well, big whoop if they cry. I cry pretty much every time I have my period, but it still comes. Every month.

The Guardian didn’t think bodyform went far enough. Neither do I. Because what annoyed me more than ads for pads was the fact that we’re not allowed to say ‘vagina’ on TV. Well, you are actually 'allowed' to say it on TV in most Western countries, but it isn't often said, and when it is, there are complaints, such as when Carefree said the word in one of its commercials in Australia. You can read that story on Mumbrella. 

That illustrates the bigger issue at play here, which Sarah Silverman gets at in her snort-laugh-inducing book, The Bedwetter: Stories of Courage, Redemption and Pee.

"There's essentially no limit to how often we can say 'penis', 'balls', 'scrotum', and 'shaft', but female anatomical language is a big, flapping red flag (so to speak),' says Silverman speaking about her show on Comedy Central, a channel owned by MTV.

She does admit that 'gaping rectum' in reference to a male was once censored but it's almost always the exclusively female genatalia that the standards people take issue with. Once she wasn't allowed to say 'vagina' because it was too graphic and was substituted with 'genatalia'. ('Vagina' does get through on other occasions). In this instance, it was 'labia' that was about to be scrapped.

"According to the censor, 'labia', in this instance was too 'graphic' and we were asked to remove it. Labia? Fucking seriously? We can say 'penis' and 'balls' until the cows come home, but labia? I asked our censor if this is what she wanted to teach young girls - that penis is fine and balls are funny but labia - your own body part - is dirty? It was not a stretch to me to view this as telling little girls to be ashamed of their bodies, which genuinely offended me," writes Silverman.

 In that case, she won. But on the whole, I'd say we're generally losing.
 

That’s why I thought I should make it my status update. You know, just get it off my chest at last: ‘OK, world, there’s something you should know about me. Not sure if you already do….BUT….I have a vagina!’

That’s what I wrote on Twitter and immediately lost followers. And to them I say, ‘Hahahahahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!’

It’s not dirty or rude or disgusting. It’s pretty much the reason we’re all here. We all entered the world through one, so it’s pretty funny, if you think about it. We’re not allowed to say on TV what half the world has and the other half (roughly) wants (to enter, not to possess). Have you ever heard of anything so RIDICULOUS?

Well, perhaps the conversation that ensued comes close. I’ve recreated the conversation and deleted surnames here to protect the identities of those involved. They might not want the public to know they engaged in a conversation about VAGINAS.

Gabrielle Jackson 

Vagina

Nick and Joe like this.

Helen: thought your favorite term for it is 'front bottom (1 like)

Margaret What!

Kate Gabbs. If I were a boy I'd def hit the "like" button for this one. And no you can't blame angus!!

Gabrielle I am doing it in response to the fact that you are not allowed to say 'vagina' on television. Pad and tampon companies who wanted to use the word on an advert were BANNED by the networks in the US. I am investigating the situation now. In the meantime, this is pretty funny: https://apps.facebook.com/theguardian/commentisfree/2012/oct/17/bodyform-bloodless-snark-attack

Gabrielle But if you think we should be allowed to use the word - because HALF the world has one - you should change your status too. AND Sarah Silverman was allowed to use the word penis in her show, but not vagina. WHY?

Gabrielle I'm glad you liked Helen's comment, Mum, because that's what you called it when we were little

Margaret Oh I know! Catholic upbringing is to blame, the words vagina and penis spoken out loud could have led to excommunication! (1 like)

Simone This is so funny because [my 6-year-old son,] angus asked me this morning if there was another name for 'front bum' & after our conversation with Jess in the Hunter I told him ' Yes, it's called a Vagina". He said 'What? A Begina?" I said "No, Vagina" & he was not impressed at all!! Think we'll just stick to Front Bum thanks! (5 likes)

Gabrielle that is hilarious, sim! I'm glad he knows the proper word for it

Margaret Hilarious! However vagina is not a "nice" sounding word, I wish it was called something else!

Gabrielle Reminds me of the scene from Rake last week! Should we call it a weewee? That sounds nicer (2 likes)

Margaret Thinking about Rake what about calling it a ninny? Then we could have a ninny and a nonny. (1 like)

Gabrielle I think you've solved the problem, mum! (1 like)

Julieanne Wats up with the good old fanny!! (2 likes)

Gabrielle We were allowed to call it that when we were older, Jules

Sheri Foo foo was a favourite growing up... My little guy uses the term weenis because mark calls it a willy and I call it a penis and this the blend was born so maybe the vagina needs to be a voo voo...(1 like)

Nick I had to press the like button Gabs - its not often that's the first word you read when you wake up! X (1 like)

Wendy I quite like fahina - it's also urban slang for 'the boss', so that works for me. (4 likes)

Jenny What about cloaca ? In agriculture I think I recall that was the name of a chicken's bits.

Gabrielle How do you pronounce that Jen? I also wrote vagina on twitter and three people immediately stopped following me, which is more than a little amusing (1 like)

Jenny Clo. Aka

Gabrielle Hmm, something tells me that's not going to work. I think ninny and nonny are currently in the lead (1 like)

Nick @Gabs - re Twitter. Can't believe one could ever stop following vagina...! (2 likes)

Margaret Hey Gabs Fred has just read all these comments and wants to add to them. He says "beaver" and "ferret" are his particular favourites! Both terms should be immediately disregarded as far as I'm concerned but just saying.....

Karen Hilarious comments. Always called it "Wee wee" with my kids. (2 likes)

Eirwen I was born in the city of Regina, in Canada. It's pronounced the same as vagina, but with an R. I can't tell you the looks I get when people ask me where I was born. Hilarious! I love to see them squirm, thinking I've just said vagina!! (1 like)

What do you call your vagina (if you have one) or penis (if you have one)? And what words do you teach your kids to say for vagina and penis?

If this is a House Husbands, I don’t want one

By Gabrielle Jackson

House Husbands

 

I was so looking forward to House Husbands. I thought it might be the sounding of the death knell for the Aussie male that is expected to call women cows and slags and demand chiko rolls after dud roots.

I mean, times have changed. Nobody eats chiko rolls anymore.

And if Puberty Blues,a drama about two school girls who try to make it into the cool gang by sitting a little bit further up the back of the bus, can be as good as it is, I had high hopes for a drama about blokes looking after the tin lids.

But my hopes were destroyed pretty quickly. The opening episode of House Husbands was depressingly bad. It had a clumsy plot, implausible scenarios, and laborious character development. If the writers think four blokes dropping their kids off at school is about as believable as five-year-olds hijacking a bus then I’m afraid this drama is just as sad as our prime minister being compared to a barren old cow. No matter what you think of Julia Gillard, one should at least muster up some wit if one wants to make a political joke. But wit is largely lacking in this drama too. Unless you think the idea of having a gay dad is so hilarious that you also think it’s funny he pretends to bake pies which he actually buys from an anonymous woman.

Oh my, can’t you just hear the ripples of laughter reverberating through the red brick houses of suburban Australia. That’s not to say it wasn’t funny. I mean, had I read the script and not seen it, I would have thought it was supposed to be a comedy farce.

Incompetent older dad makes joke to competent kid about driving herself to school.

Kid encourages other five-year-olds being dropped off by dads to steal the school bus. One sits on the accelerator while another steers.

Disgraced football hero chases down bus in super hero fashion and saves the day. But only after the school principal breaks her arm.

Gay dad is supposed to drop principal- who was treated in hospital by one of thieving kid’s mums - home but loses her while picking up secret pies.

They’re all related or work together or something equally as silly and over complicated.

If it had been played like a farce it might have had some hope of being funny.

I suppose I could have looked at the casts in each drama to decide which one I’d like the best. In Puberty Blues we have Claudia Karvan, Dan Wyllie and Susie Porter, whose stable includes some of the greatest Australian films and television dramas ever made, including Love My Way (all of them), Chopper (Wyllie), The Heartbreak Kid (Karvan) and Little Fish (Porter).

In House Husbands we have Gary Sweet whose brought us such winners as Rescue Special Ops. I know that’s not fair. I didn’t want it to be a competition – I wanted to like both new Australian television shows. And there are some great actors in House Husbands. I mean Rhys Muldoon has been in a lot of fine shows on the ABC. And let’s face it, there’s not that much work for Aussie actors so they may have to take anything they can get. Even scripts with holes as big as the ozone layer. I mean, if the writers wanted, I could introduce them to some of my male friends who actually do look after their kids without doing an excruciating impersonation of Mr Bean. Then again, maybe it’s really for kids and I’ve just got the wrong end of the remote.

I could write more, but then I’d just continue to bore you. I’ve already bored myself so much that I’ve fallen asleep and dribbled out a half digested mint slice on my keyboard while writing this.

It’s an hour you won’t get back. Think about that before watching the next episode.