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Amika George, student/activist

AUTHOR BIO

Amika George is a 19 year-old activist campaigning for free menstrual products to be provided in schools. After learning about the impact of period poverty on young girls in 2017, George decided to take action and immediately began her #FreePeriods campaign. The campaign started as an online petition which gained huge traction, and has now become a national campaign. After plans to fund free menstrual products for schools were announced in Scotland last year, the campaign found great success in March of this year when the UK government announced plans to fund the scheme in English schools as well.

REVIEW

I’ve wanted to talk about Amika George for a while, because I’m extremely passionate about the importance of championing the voices of our younger generation. Whilst George is not primarily a writer, her plethora of articles discussing the #FreePeriods campaign gave me the perfect excuse to discuss her incredible work. In the mind-blowing simplicity of her realising an issue and deciding to do something about it, she is genuinely inspiring. Ultimately, George reminds us that we can make change if we aren’t happy with how things are.

The two articles written by George that I’ve chosen to discuss are:

‘Why I started the campaign to get free tampons in schools’

‘The stigma over periods won’t end until boys learn about them too’

In her article for Dazed, published in celebration of International Women’s Day 2019, George outlines how the #FreePeriods campaign came about, and how she was driven to fight for the issue. If you’re new to the campaign, this short article provides insightful background into the realities of period poverty in the UK, and the process of making change. George acknowledges the universal obstructions to the education of young girls, whilst also showing her shock at the severity of poverty faced in our own country surrounding the acquisition of menstrual products. To read what she has achieved in just two years, all still in her teens, is totally inspiring.

The right to an education is a fundamental human right – so says the declaration of Human Rights. Yet, we know that this is not happening the world over.
Amika George, ‘Why I started the campaign to get free tampons in schools’

I love Amika George because she is no longer ‘the kid who started that petition’ – she is a badass activist and throwing her all into this invaluable cause. She is now interviewing high-profile women, writing important articles, and broadening her activism far beyond period poverty alone. Now, she’s fighting to change the way to see periods altogether; to, as her Twitter bio states, ‘end the shame and stigma.’

In her article for The Guardian, titled ‘The stigma over periods won’t end until boys learn about them too’, George discusses the prolonged implications of stigmatising periods. This article resonated with me a lot, particularly when George discusses being taught to hide tampons up her sleeve and whisper when asking friends to borrow a pad. Honestly, I don’t think my friends and I made one single mention of periods at school, only discussing them one time, when we were in sixth form. Imagine, those hundreds of times I remember scurrying to the toilets with fear and embarrassment, terrified of anyone hearing the sound of me ripping off a pad – and not a single word of it discussed amongst my friends. George is right: governmental funding is vital, but so is open dialogue. Why are periods the one thing that men seem unable to fathom talking about?

I think what’s important about George’s article is it is an honest exposé of the ridiculous culture of disgust surrounding periods. I may have experienced this myself in school just six years ago, but even I had pretty much forgotten the obscenity of it all. This isn’t just childish embarrassment. On an institutional level, periods are hushed within the parameters of education and, as we subsequently grow in this conditioned state, within wider discussions around the world.

Not talking to boys and men about our periods means a quiet subservience, allowing separate, gendered spheres to exist, which validates the idea that anything outside the cis-male experience is abnormal.
Amika George, ‘The stigma over periods won’t end until boys learn about them too’

Also vital to George’s article is her statement on the exclusion of trans men from discussions around menstruation. Whilst it was ten years since I had sex education and things may have changed, the binary division of the girls and boys into different rooms for these teachings are incredibly damaging to trans and non-binary students in particular. As a whole, it’s quite terrifying that we’re thrusted with the message of being responsible and having safe, STI-free sex, and then expected to grow up and form mature adult relationships, whilst not even being taught the basic biological functions of both sexes. In what world does that make sense?

As a young person, I’m so proud of Amika George’s work and activism. Not only is she making incredible change, she’s also proving the power of young voices, and doubtlessly inspiring other young people to stand up when we’re not happy with our surroundings. With her equally intellectual and personal perspective on the issues of periods, her voice is not to be ignored – and it certainly won’t be anytime soon.

Pandora Sykes, journalist/podcaster/speaker

AUTHOR BIO

Pandora Sykes is a journalist, podcast co-host and public speaker based in London. She has a monumental catalogue of writing, having contributed to an impressive number of publications. Currently, she writes for Elle, as well as co-hosting iTunes number 1 pop culture and current affairs podcast The High Low. To add to her array of achievements, Sykes also recently published her longform essay The Authentic Lie in March 2019.

REVIEW

I chose to review Pandora Sykes this week because recent articles of hers have really stuck with me, and I think it’s important that we all listen. Without further ado, here is the article that I chose:

‘The internet trend for ‘cancelling’ women has to stop’

The title, ‘The internet trend for ‘cancelling’ women has to stop’, immediately grabbed me. Much like I discussed in my previous post ‘how social progress is hindered by prescriptive morality’, this post shows Sykes exploring our ever-growing ‘cancel’ culture in which people are simply deleted for their anomalous mistakes.

I’ve wanted to write about cancel culture for a while, because it’s a pressing issue. We are in a time when it is vital to say no to abusive and derogatory behaviour, to eradicate the Chris Browns of the world who thrive despite their horrific actions. It’s an ideal prospect to denounce these perpetrators and strip them of their power, but it seems we’re not doing it right. Instead, Chris Brown continues to infect the music scene, and whilst we continue to hate him, many of us are spending far more of our time tearing down other people for comparatively minute mistakes. Women, it seems, are often on the receiving end of this.

In her article, Sykes writes about the numerous incidents she has recently encountered in which a woman has been ‘cancelled’ for a not-that-huge error. What makes the article so important is its honesty; she is open about the fact that these women being cancelled aren’t perfect, and have indeed made mistakes. She openly speaks about her own negative reaction to statements certain women have made – and which we all make, when we don’t like what someone is saying – but brings the point home that this should never equate to total cancellation. If we cancel anyone who says the wrong thing, or harbours a controversial opinion, how will we learn? What the hell will we discuss and debate? Will we all just be unanimously insentient robots? I’m getting carried away.

The point is, Sykes doesn’t scream ‘women can do no wrong!! leave us alone!’, but rather criticises the unhelpful and regressive way with which we tackle problematic viewpoints. Unless someone is genuinely dangerous or harbours an undeniably hurtful, discriminatory viewpoint, then cutting their legs from beneath them will not help. On Sykes’ podcast, The High Low, her co-host Dolly Alderton discussed the issue with left-wing voters patronising and talking down to Tory voters, and how this may actually spur on the Tory movement – her point being that, if we’re ridiculed and talked down to, are we ever going to listen to what the other person is saying?

I’m getting into sticky territory now, because I’m extremely anti-Tory and even writing that sentence felt icky, but I certainly see Alderton’s point. And Sykes, in her article, executes this very effectively.

Is it that we like women to be agreeable, and free from fault? Or is this merely a reflection of the internet’s ever deepening empathy deficit?
Pandora Sykes, ‘The internet trend for ‘cancelling’ women has to stop’, The Guardian

(TW: Suicide) One example of female cancellation that Sykes discusses is the recent controversy surrounding Chidera Eggerue, known on Instagram as ‘The Slumflower’. In recent months, Eggerue made a statement something along the lines of ‘If men are committing suicide because they can’t cry, how’s it my concern?’

So that’s obviously a highly problematic statement on a flammable topic. Do I agree with what she said? Absolutely not. Having read her statement on it at the time, I saw that Eggerue was saying quite simply that male welfare is not a concern within her feminism. She is a strong public figure, and an activist against sexism, having done great things to support the movement of ending body shaming and other feminist issues. She’s valiantly outspoken, unapologetic in her views, and generally not held within the timid frame that women are often encouraged to inhabit.

I repeat: I do not, in any way, agree with Eggerue’s statement. In my feminism, I want equality for both sexes, and whilst women naturally are my usual topic of discussion, I also care deeply about male sufferings under toxic masculinity. Having suffered from mental illness, this is simply one of my priorities. For Eggerue, it is not. Yes, her execution of the statement was brash and unsympathetic, and we can disagree with that, but why the hell would we cancel her? She’s not saying she wants men to feel this way – she’s literally saying it’s not one of her concerns. Fine. We can’t all fight for EVERYTHING, we’d literally combust. We all have our thing, yet here we are cancelling women for daring to admit that we don’t do all of the things.

Whilst I’m getting quite emotive here, this is where Sykes writes it best – she is cool and eloquent in her writing, stating quite simply that cancellation is not helpful or conducive to social progress. Besides that, to ‘cancel’ people for a mistake (because I do believe that Eggerue’s tone in this statement was a mistake), is to make us all terrified of saying anything at all. What’s that, you say – robots? Yeah. Insentient robots. No thank you.

Sykes’ article is a carefully written examination of social trends, as well as a cry for us to break free from these shackles. She reminds us that not only should we resist this vicious attack that turn opportunities for improvement into someone’s famous last words – but we should also remember that we’re not all obligated to perfectly do everything. Our voices all matter and are powerful, but we’re also just tiny components of a much bigger social discourse.

No single woman is responsible for an entire culture. […] As Eggerue reminded her critics, when speaking to The Independent: she is just ‘one woman’s voice.’
Pandora Sykes, ‘The internet trend for ‘cancelling’ women has to stop’, The Guardian

If I had to describe Pandora Sykes in two words? Eloquent & articulate. Her words, both written and spoken, are intelligent and effortlessly fluid. In the nerdiest way possible, I just love her linguistic style, and it is quite frankly #goals (as I pray one day I’ll cut past the mumbling and stuttering). I would hugely recommend checking out her featured articles which can all be found on her website, as well as listening to her podcast The High Low. There’s nothing else to say except thank you, Pandora, for writing about important pop culture topics with pure class.

Hoda Katebi, fashion writer/creative

Author bio

Hoda Katebi is a Muslim-Iranian creative, fashion writer and activist, with a voice that is as unapologetic as it is powerful. The daughter of Iranian immigrants, Katebi writes from a on ethical issues on fashion created by the capitalist western world. Her sensational blog, Joojoo Azad, platforms her insightful and eye-opening articles. She doesn’t stop there though – Katebi is also: author of the book Tehran Streetstyle celebrating illegal fashion and Iran; host of worldwide book club #BecauseWeveRead; and founder of Blue Tin Production, ‘an all-women immigrant and refugee-run clothing manufacturing co-operative in Chicago’. Yeah, this woman is doing absolute the most.

REVIEW

Whilst Katebi’s blog is loaded with essential reading, I’ve chosen to focus on the following two:

‘How H&M is erasing war crimes in their latest marketing campaign’

‘All fast-fashion requires systemic gender-based violence: Conscious collections are fake news’

If you’ve ever shopped at ASOS, H&M, and the like, you’re probably wincing at those titles. So did I – because I have been a thoughtless customer of these brands for years, only recently becoming conscious of the dangers of fast fashion. In our growing movement in environmental concerns, fast fashion is the most devious industry. As Katedi writes, brands increasingly make feeble changes and mask themselves with labels like ‘fairtrade cotton’ and ‘conscious collection’. This makes it easy to feel as though our guilt can be relieved. I certainly hid behind this screen for a while, but Katedi’s powerful words make that almost impossible uphold that charade.

‘How H&M is erasing war crimes in their latest marketing campaign’

In this article, Katebi very importantly analysis the marketing practices of H&M in the context of green-washing: ‘an attempt to use self-proclaimed environmental sustainability to wash (or attempt to hide) the human rights abuses that the rest of their clothing is complicit in’. In this practice, brands hide behind futile labels – that don’t even cover their entire range – to mask their unethical operations. I for one can’t deny that I have walked into a H&M store before, looked at an ‘organic cotton’, green-labelled T-shirt, and thought, ‘wow, I love that H&M are becoming more eco-conscious!’ Honey, no.

Because logically, if H&M has constructed an entirely separate ‘sustainability’ collection, what are they then implying about how the rest of their clothing is made?
Hoda Katebi, ‘How H&M is erasing war crimes in their latest marketing campaign’

What’s brilliant about Katebi’s writing is that she places no blame whatsoever on the consumer here. Shopping at shamelessly cheap, fast-fashion brands like Boohoo and Pretty Little Thing is hard to justify if you’re economically able to shop better, but when brands like H&M plaster ‘eco’ on their labels, we (the consumer) are tricked. It’s only because I follow fast-fashion fighter Venetia Falconer on Instagram that I ever discovered the use of greenwashing at H&M, and without that I’d still be happily consuming their BS. We can’t possibly expect every individual to research the exact manufacturing process behind every product or item they consume – that’s on the business. And H&M is failing us. That’s why Katebi’s article is so effective – rather than saying ‘why are you shopping there? don’t shop there!’, she’s saying ‘H&M are tricking you whilst mistreating their workers and that is not ok’. By making consumers feel tricked rather than guilty, we can increase the allure for ditching these brands altogether.

In the main section of this article exploring its titular issue, Katebi explores the revolution-washing behind H&M’s latest marketing campaign. The campaign is in collaboration with fashion blogger Andy Torres and explores Israel, branding it as a fun, happy, progressive destination. As Katebi states, ‘in short, H&M’s latest collaboration with Andy Torres works to portray a violent apartheid state as the world’s next best travel destination’. Being honest, I know very little about the current political and social climate of Israel, so I don’t want to comment much on something I don’t understand. However, I understand the basic gist of it from Katebi’s accessible and informative writing. In an easily-digestible nutshell, H&M are essentially erasing the destructive political and social happenings of their glammed-up campaign destination, turning it into the backdrop for photoshoots of models in cute £4 tops. What do we say to this kind of green/revolution/everything-washing? Not today.

There is nothing apolitical about a fashion editorial story that works to wash out (whether intentionally or not) war crimes and make normal what is not: Israeli apartheid.
Hoda Katebi, ‘How H&M is erasing war crimes in their latest marketing campaign’

‘All fast-fashion requires systemic gender-based violence: Conscious collections are fake news’

This article was difficult, poignant, and wholly essential to read. As a feminist, I felt appalled that I’d been supporting the faux-green, unethical practices of gigantic corporations that directly harm female workers. If you feel like you want to know more but don’t know what to think when every tweet and article is pulling you in a different direction, then Katebi’s article is for you. She articulately uses fact, first-hand experiences of abused workers, and certified reports to convey the barbarity of brands like H&M in their supply chain. In a time of greenwashing, this is the wake up call we all need.

Pulling hair, hitting breasts, firing pregnant women, threats of sexual violence and non-renewal of work contracts are just some of the forms of difficult-to-read gender-based violence documented in the report that frame the daily realities of female garment workers across South and Southeast Asia.
Hoda Katebi, ‘All fast-fashion requires systemic gender-based violence: Conscious collections are fake news’

What makes Katebi’s article so powerful is that the facts she presents are both difficult and easy to believe – although undeniably hard to swallow. When we pour into our favourite shops for the week’s new items, we forget the significant of the fact that fashion really is a weekly event now. A ‘season’ has been reduced from an actual season, when our clothing choices endure practical changes, to mere weekly rotations of new prints and ‘essential’, ‘must-have’ styles. I remember when I was younger and everything I owned was either summer or winter clothing – each year, my mum would take me on one shopping trip to buy any new summer clothes I needed, then once again in winter. Now, the need to keep up with the conveyer belt of mass production is forced down our throats at an ever growing rate.

When we think about the mass and frequency of clothes produced by many brands, to then be sold for a feeble £3.99, can we even be surprised that factory workers are being abused in the process? Even for those being paid a fair wage (which is rare), the demand for mass consumption means that factory workers are being ran off their feet, forced to work at an unachievable pace and punished when they aren’t able to do so.

Garment factories exist in nations of color due to the legacies of colonialism, and are systematically dependent on exploitation and gender-based abuse to function within the fast-fashion model of production.
Hoda Katebi, ‘All fast-fashion requires systemic gender-based violence: Conscious collections are fake news’

Again, I want to point out that this isn’t my specialist area of knowledge. I know shamefully little about the realities of fast fashion production, but I’m learning. People like Hoda Katebi are making a huge impact by raising their voice on these essential issues. I love Katebi’s writing in particular because of her unapologetic, angry stance – she is taking no BS from fast fashion, and she does all she can to ensure her readers don’t fall victim to this greenwashing. I particularly love how she intersects fast fashion with other issues, such as feminism and colonialism. Whilst these are all inherently tied to fast fashion anyway, Katebi’s exposure of these ties brings the issue into more easily accessible dialogue. With writers like Katebi in the world, none of us can close our eyes to the facts.

Tolani Shoneye, writer/podcaster

Author bio

Tolani Shoneye is a digital content creator, known for her tell-all articles and hilarious, no-nonsense podcast, The Receipts Podcast. On the podcast, she puts her personality out there to the point that every listener feels like her friend (I wish). As a Nigerian-born Londoner, she talks openly about her experience in both cultures, also drawing on her relationships, friendships, and lifestyle in her content. Under the nickname of Tolly T, she really is your dream best friend who will shut down your nonsense and make you laugh until you cry.

Review

I could talk about Tolly’s The Receipts Podcast endlessly, but I’m here to discuss her writing. The beauty of any podcaster-cross-writer is that it’s easy to read their words in their own voice, always bringing the story to full life. As a freelancer, Tolly has written for numerous publications, but I have chosen to discuss my favourite one:

‘As a black woman, I hate the term ‘people of colour”

‘As a black woman, I hate the term ‘people of colour” was an insightful, challenging read. As a white woman who tries to be a good ally to BAME communities, I think a lot about the preferred terms in conveying people’s identity. From going through the works in recent decades, recent years have settled on ‘people of colour’ as the most politically correct term of address. I jumped on board.

However, ‘black’ is also in the mainstream dialogue surrounding race. Both seam to be in the ‘acceptable for use’ realm (although can be skewed if a derogatory tone is used), so many white people settle down happy in the knowledge of what words to use. Personally, I hold no valid opinion because I am not black or part of a BAME community, but I’m interested in the views of BAME people themselves. I think often, we forget that we norm can still be disputed – in this case, Tolani’s dislike of the term ‘people of colour’.

The tone with which Tolly writes is exactly the same as how she speaks – no nonsense and unapologetically honest. I love that the subheading of this article reads: ‘Although the term feels politically correct, it’s inclusive and is better than the previously used ‘coloured’, I am still not here for it’. When was the last time you heard a black/BAME person say ‘yes this is completely fine, politically correct, and inclusive, but I don’t like it’? Probably never. We spend so much time discussing what is inclusive/exclusive and fighting those who discriminators, that we forget that under that binary of right and wrong there is room for opinion. Really backwards people would even take a ‘you can’t complain’ stance, which reinforces the point that we have so far to come. It isn’t enough to stop using racist terms – we need to allow BAME people to have their goddam autonomy and individual perceptions.

I first came across the buzzwords on social media: POC (people of colour) and WOC (woman of colour). Initially I had no problem with them. The terms were convenient. They provided me and my diverse group of friends with a title. But at the same time, social media was making these terms into lazy ways of addressing people.
Tolani Shoneye, ‘As a black woman, I hate the term ‘people of colour”, The Independent

Labelling terms such as POC ‘lazy’ is such an interesting take on this evolution of language. I love hearing new opinions, and I see Tolly’s point here – ‘POC’ could potentially act as a label that you whack onto any statement. A ‘I am a good white human give me cookie’ sticker. In that line of thought, we could consider, does the intention/consciousness of the use of the term matter as long as the term itself is inclusive? Or is the intention/consciousness of the speaker that matters most? That’s a whole new discussion that I have zero energy for right now, so I digress.

See, this is the kind of conversation Tolly’s writing opens up. She entertains but also makes you think. Linguistically, terms of address referring to race and/or ethnicity are engineered to operate in the most inclusive, humanising way, but as any phrase can, they can be interpreted differently by different people. When I got into this article and started thinking about the term ‘people of colour’, I wondered – as a white person, with no first-person experience backing the idea – whether it could be construed as passive and therefore dehumanising. ‘Of colour’ might suggest an affliction or an attribute, rather than a fundamental strand of identity. In her article, Tolly writes:

My blackness means too much to me to hide it under the guise of “people of colour”.
Tolani Shoneye, ‘As a black woman, I hate the term ‘people of colour”, The Independent

This perfectly conveys what I was thinking – that ‘of colour’ acts as a kind of ‘guise’, deflating the boldness and strength within black people. When I hear Tolly on The Receipts Podcast refer to herself as a ‘black woman’, I hear the pride and strength with which she says it. As she would say – she says it with her whole chest. That is the kind of tone that seems to be missing from ‘people of colour’. But hey, I know that my opinion on this is inauthentic because I’m white – I just love exploring social semantics.

I love Tolly’s writing for a specific reason. Besides her bold, unapologetic tone, she delves into issues that aren’t quite the biggest fatalities of society – rather, she starts conversations that aren’t being had, opening up nuances in the grand scheme of issues of race, sex, jobs, and more.

Rachel Cargle, activist/writer/lecturer

Author bio

Rachel Cargle is an activist, writer, and lecturer. Born and raised in Ohio, she now lives in New York where she is pursuing a BA in Anthropology at Columbia University. Her Instagram account, @Rachel.Cargle, provides invaluable resources on how white people can educate themselves on racial issues, as well as discussing and promoting her incredible work. In 2017, Rachel Cargle started a non-profit to help women afford mental health care. She also runs a weekly newsletter called State of the Woman, and writes for several publications.

Review

Rachel Cargle’s writing is so inexplicably important that I couldn’t possibly discuss just one of her articles, so I’ve picked two:

‘When White People Are Uncomfortable, Black People Are Silenced’‘This Photo Of Me At The Women’s March Went Viral And Changed My Activism Forever’

‘When Feminism is White Supremacy in Heels’

‘When White People Are Uncomfortable, Black People Are Silenced’

Published January 2019, this article remains persistently fresh in my mind despite having read it three months ago. Speaking against the silencing that is continually imposed upon marginalised voices – currently and historically – Rachel Cargle uses her intelligence and an unstoppable urgency to denounce the oppression of marginalised voices in protecting the white ego.

When the truth is held up, it reflects the false securities that our society rests on: the elitism, the capitalism, the racism, the ableism, the sexism, the homo/transphobia, the xenophobia, the anti-blackness.
Rachel Cargle, ‘When White People Are Uncomfortable, Black People Are Silenced’

In her analysis of the resistance that white people demonstrate towards acknowledging our oppressive society, Cargle makes the issue blindingly clear. In the simplistic, idealist idea of ‘why can’t we all just get on’, Cargle’s discussion of ‘truth’ follows a similar strain. It is not a complex idea to say that we should all be treated equally. In the same regard, it does not require in-depth social analysis to discover that society discriminates against certain groups. It is simply true. Yet the uncomfortable fact remains that many white people are consistency reluctant to face this truth; leading to denial, swerving, even defensive anger. This is what makes the issue of silencing so complex. White people (in the generic sense) have not only instigated the issue, but denied it to the level that it becomes multi-layered and, in may contexts, indecipherable to those whom are privileged by it.

The way in which Cargle discusses the silencing of BAME communities reminds me of the idea of colour blindness – the whole ‘I don’t see colour’ narrative. This denial does nothing more than undermine and outright exclude the experiences of BAME people. Such blindness is what renders well-intentioned white people intellectually stunted when it comes to social issues; we don’t understand because it literally doesn’t concern us. It is for that reason that Rachel Cargle attempts to instigate thought and reevaluation in her work, and it’s a method that is so painfully necessary if we want to fight through racial silencing.

In the same way that our sub-conscience can repress traumatic memories, then to be uncovered only after rigorous digging and forcing ourselves to confront the source of the issue, racial silencing is a difficult pill for white people to swallow. Very few people can come face to face with their own privilege and feel entirely comfortable – or, if you can, that’s probably quite problematic in itself. Feeling affronted at first is understandable, because that sense of privilege is so deeply ingrained within us that most of us don’t know it’s there until we’re confronted with it. However, that is in no way to suggest that we should hide away from such fear; to do so is to deny an entire race of their voice, their pain, and their history.

The stubbornness of white privilege, as Cargle writes, has lead to her content being reported on Instagram. Imagine being so furiously uncomfortable with your own privilege that you have to go out of your way to try and silence a black person. Thankfully, Rachel Cargle inhabits such a powerful, unrelenting voice that she refuses to be stopped. In a less palatable truth, she comments:

The efforts to silence my own work will never not be terrifying. But when have black bodies, black livelihoods, black existences ever been safe in pursuit of truth and justice in this country?
Rachel Cargle, ‘When White People Are Uncomfortable, Black People Are Silenced’

This is a painful truth. This bittersweet reminder of the strength held by unapologetic BAME voices is one which forces us to reflect on our history and our present. I thank Rachel Cargle for her enlightening, educational content; not only because it is an invaluable resource to well-meaning white people, but also because she didn’t need to do that. She owes nothing to non-BAME people, yet here she is providing incredible resources and being an absolute boss.

‘When Feminism is White Supremacy in Heels’

Find this title uncomfortable? If so then you, like me, probably need to be reading the article. Cargle begins the article by recalling the tragic murder of Nia Wilson, an 18 year-old girl in Oakland. On taking to Instagram to call upon white feminists to support and platform this tragedy – which was otherwise silenced from the media – the response she received appeared mixed.

‘[Many white women were] demanding that justice be served while expressing their disbelief that such a story hadn’t gained national attention in the same way that Laci Peterson’s or JonBenét Ramsey’s had. But there were just as many white women—women whose bios claim titles like “social justice warrior” and “intersectional feminist”—that somehow took this call for solidarity as a personal attack.
Rachel Cargle, ‘When Feminism is White Supremacy in Heels’

This particularly hit me – the exposure of the fact that such rampant racism, silencing and denial exists even within the feminist community. As someone who has had ‘intersectional feminist’ in my bio many times, I realised upon reading this that describing yourself in one way and acting in another are worlds apart. Words can be incredibly powerful, but they can also be rendered empty by unjust and contradictory actions. Besides the fact that I can’t even fathom the idea of becoming defensive towards such a tragic and painful event, this clearly highlights the fact that racism isn’t solely the straight white man’s game. It exists within so-called ‘woke’ communities themselves.

What could have been a much-needed and integral display of solidarity and true intersectionality quickly became a live play-by-play of the toxicity that white-centered feminism can bring to the table of activism.
Rachel Cargle, ‘When Feminism is White Supremacy in Heels’

Much like her Instagram content, Cargle outlines the essential beliefs and actions involved in true allyship, making the article yet another vital resource. In her discussion of the problematic stances taken by many white people in response to BAME issues, the general pattern emerges that white people need to step back. This is not our time. We can support, platform, promote, but we do not interrupt. That essential message is conveyed emphatically in Rachel Cargle’s writing.

I’m sure I heard this analogy somewhere, but I forget where: imagine all the world is a stage (yes I just involved Shakespeare in this). For all of history, we’ve only attended plays by white people. Now, BAME people are tired of relentless exclusion, and have demanded a stage for themselves. Both white people and black people attend. It’s a great show. You would watch, listen, and then clap at the end. You might then go and tell all of your friends how good the show is. You might shout about the show on social media, retweet adverts for the show, generally create a lot of positive noise about it.

You would not interrupt the show and start talking over the actor. You would not get angry at the show and yell at it, because it’s not your show. You also wouldn’t claim to be a huge fan of shows by BAME people when you’ve thrown rotten food onto the stage at every single BAME play you watched before this one. You literally would go, watch, listen, applaud, and tell other people about it. Allyship really isn’t that complicated – it’s only made complicated when the ego becomes inflamed and refuses to relinquish control.

Jamie Windust, model/writer/activist

Author bio

Jamie Windust is a London based freelance writer, editor-in-chief (for internationally sold Fruitcake Magazine), activist and model. They are famous for their unapologetic self-representation, sensational style, and incredibly informed views on social issues. Jamie often writes and speaks about the experiences of gender non-conforming people, fighting to raise awareness both of their experiences as a whole and also the ways in which we as a society can do better. Overall, Jamie is a genuinely inspiring young person who is demonstrating how you can really harness digital platforms to build a voice and make a difference.

Review

I have followed Jamie Windust on Instagram for a while now, purely for their unapologetic expression of identity, incredibly informed content, and (to be entirely honest) mind-blowing outfits. As a model, writer, editor and activist, Jamie’s work translates into various forms, with their personal experiences as a GNC person feeding into their writing. I particularly value Jamie’s LGBT+ content; as a cis straight woman, this is an invaluable tool for me to continually remind myself of the GNC experience and ensure I stay conscious and respectful in these areas.

To celebrate Jamie’s work, I want to talk about their recent article for Dazed, titled ‘How to be a good online ally to trans and non-binary people in 2019’. Scrap the generic ’10 best travel destinations in 2019′ content – this is the kind of time-bound writing I want to encounter. As society becomes (to an extent) more socially progressive, it’s more important than ever to stay up to date on matters of identity. Something so fundamental to our existence deserves constant coverage, and as Jamie writes, ‘knowledge and information we have acquired 12 months ago may have changed’.

On first glance at the article, I immediately felt immense gratitude to Jamie. Allyship is a hot topic at the minute, and one often conflated with overstepping the mark and silencing those very groups we want to support. In the conscious desire that allies hold to listen and learn from marginalised groups, this places an unjust sense of duty on that person to teach and guide – as if their life isn’t already stressful enough. This, of course, creates a situation in which allies want to learn but aren’t quite sure how, without demanding the time and resources of marginalised groups. In this situation, we must sit back and listen – listen to everything that these groups are saying – and remain respectful. That’s to say, when I encountered Jamie’s article, I felt incredibly grateful that they had decided to share their experience, insight and advice to more privileged people in order to support trans/non-binary people. They were under no obligation to do it, but they did, and for that I am grateful.

The article itself acts as a non-overwhelming, comprehensive guide to trans and non-binary allyship. Grouped into various subheadings, Jamie approaches those areas of life in which we can easily perform allyship in an appropriate way. What makes the article so credibly pressing is that Jamie speaks both through personal experience, as well as intellectual and social understanding. Rather than limiting the article to their own experience, or even singularising cis versus non-cis experiences, Jamie maintains constant awareness of the myriad intersections across all identities, using this to inform their guidance for allyship.

One section of the article which particularly stuck a chord with me was the advice to ‘stop scrolling and engage’. I’m no stranger to the allure of mindless scrolling, but never had I recognised that this is not only numbing our brains, but also wasting vital chances to engage in diverse content. Whilst we celebrate social media as a tool for inclusion, community and elevating repressed voices, we continue to scroll past genuinely irrelevant memes and weird cat videos. This will never be excluded from my digital activity, but it really should occupy a much lower proportion of our time. As Jamie rightfully says: ‘Stop scrolling. Listen, read, learn, and engage’.

Jamie’s final point is directed towards bringing our allyship into real life, physical spaces. In the overwhelming presence of digital environments, it’s easy to forget that the physical world is not only ever present but also still critically unsafe for GNC people. Jamie’s Instagram posts continue this narrative of awareness for safety in non-conforming people, sharing his own traumatic experiences and acknowledging the pain this induces alongside his empowering and self-confident image. In these discussions, Jamie reminds us that even those confident, self-proclaiming, wonderfully proud non-binary and trans individuals are still unsafe and often subjected to abuse. It’s no wonder that so many feel inclined to hide and masquerade their true identity – something that should anger and motivate anyone who cares for human rights.

You can support Jamie by following them on Instagram (@leopardprintelephant) and Twitter (@fabjamiefab) where you can keep up to date with their work, and support their petition to allow people to identify outside of ‘male’ and ‘female’ on legal documentation here.