I am woman.

As a woman living in the 21st century, I find myself continually turning over a certain question in my head. What is a woman?

Of course, we are all aware of the biological differences between the sexes, but how does that difference translate into modern day gender roles? Now, before you switch off mentally, just forget about the pleonasm “gender role” -- it is a term emptied of all significance due to excessive bandying around. I am loath to say anything regarding the repression of women, lest I be asked to justify myself. Suffice to say, it is a truth universally acknowledged (by most sane individuals).
Indeed, what I wish to reflect upon is our current position as women in the grand sphere of genders. The Women's Liberation Movement did wonders for female sexuality. Women reclaimed their bodies and became sexual subjects. Third Wave Feminism now seeks to empower women sexually, whilst challenging essentialist notions surrounding gender binaries. All very well and good (and really, it’s marvellous), but have some women missed the point?

In my experience, announcing that one is a feminist in a social gathering is rather like sticking a pin in a balloon. I’ve heard people pronounce the word ‘feminist’ with such gravity, anyone would think I was pledging my allegiance to the Communist Party. Nonetheless, I find that there is a certain pejorative connotation which hangs over the term, and I don’t quite know why.

As a student, I was horrified by the myriad misled young females so eager to return to the ancien regime. No, I’m not talking about the French Revolution, but rather the cultural phenomenon that occurs in Great Britain. Young girls, 18, who come to university eager to have fun and make new friends. Partying, clubbing, and the inevitable excesses that go hand in hand, render both men and women somewhat weaker. However, there is a very definite social trend which goes by the name of ‘sharking’, whereby older male students go out in search of “fresh meat” i.e. drunk, willing young females (preferable freshers). These girls are participants, albeit unconscious, who believe that this is the true meaning of claiming one’s sexuality, of being in control. In fact, I see this as a reversal of the progress made in the 20th Century, for this predatory behaviour is more akin to the likes of a male hunter, female prey.

I believe in female sexuality; in women being in control, and having a choice. Yet, if that choice is taken away from you, or made on your behalf, then you are no longer in control. This begs the question: have we gone too far the other way? Have we rendered ourselves so sexually available that control has been seized back by the male of the species?

The Joy...

Of Living Alone.

Here's to all those brazen, shameless individuals who choose to live alone. It's one of life's best kept secrets, not widely-propagated as those in the 'know' abide by the rules so closely that it would be impossible to share such esoteric knowledge. Enigma aside, it's a wondrous luxury to live alone! I don't suppose many of you know how great it is. That's because we're all too busy being alone to even think about telling other people. But, seriously, it is a joy unrivalled to be in a position where conflict is non-existent; and washing-up and cleanliness is a not-so-urgent necessity (carried out at your own discretion and not a minute sooner). Lie-ins are plentiful, music is blasted, loud singing compulsory. Peace, quiet, and space to breathe are all helpful benefits of such delightful living conditions, coupled with the option of rejoining the human race when you feel like it!

Of course, there was a time when I thought people who chose to be alone weren't really 'choosing' at all, and that nobody really liked them. I used to stare in incredulity when people said they "wanted to be alone" -- "sorry, do you want me to leave!?". Now, after a plethora of awful living situations, I realise the true value of peace and quiet. Of doing things your own way and not feeling selfish.

So, for an easy stress-free gorgeous experience, live alone. Ignore the Eleanor Rigby nonsense and forget about being eaten by Alsatians. It's bloody marvellous. End of.

Bison -- Switzerland

GREAT MUSIC

Jorge Luis Borges

Bliss

"She still had moments like this when she wanted to run instead of walk, to take dancing steps on and off the pavement, to bowl a hoop, to throw something up in the air and catch it again, or to stand still and laugh at - nothing - at nothing, simply."

Katherine Mansfield