I can’t be a feminist blogger…

… because I haven’t done a Women’s Studies class.

… because I haven’t read Judith Butler

… because I’ve never been on a march

… because I believe in feminist porn

… because I like to wear high heels and short skirts

When writing this blog I often get anxiety about how other people will view my writing. No doubt that is the case for many people who write, but this anxiety rears its ugly head most when I write about feminist things. Maybe because feminism is the topic closest to my heart, and so I want to get it right. But I think mostly because I don’t feel like I have any authority on the subject.

Most feminist blogs that I read are by super-smart, super-informed people who put me to shame. Most of the stuff on here is just my opinion, and a lot of the time I’m scared that someone will come along and tell me just how wrong I am. I’m afraid of offending people, or at least the good people, and of ignoring groups of people or ignoring my privilege or just being plain wrong.

Now, those probably seem like silly things to worry about in the scheme of things, but as someone who has lofty dreams of being a feminist writer some day they are important to me. I want to get this right. And I often feel like I haven’t got the experience or the authority to do that. Why would anyone want to read *my* feminist opinion when they could just hop over to feministing.com and get the real deal?

The list of reasons above is not just why I don’t always feel like a feminist blogger, but also why I don’t feel like a feminist. Disagreeing with strong feminist voices is hard (and yes, I know how whiny that sounds). I am still finding my feminist blogging voice and it’s surprising me how much courage it takes to just put it onto this tiny corner of the Internet where only two people a day drop by.

I know in my head that the reasons above don’t exempt me from being a feminist. I believe very strongly in feminist ideals and try to live a feminist life, and that surely is enough? I’m not trying to tell anyone else what to do here, so what’s the problem?

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Laughing Like A Loon on Loon Tablets

I have been celebrating my freedom from essays this week by re-reading the Georgia Nicolson books by Louise Rennison. And catching up on the ones that have been published since my teenage years.

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These books make me laugh out loud more than any other book ever has. Granted my literary tastes often lean more towards the ‘serious’ side of things but even so this is a high accolade.

And more than that, they remind me of school. They remind of what being a teenage girl in an all-girls school is like. Not because I was anywhere near as vivacious and interesting as Georgia, but because there are some things that it seems are universal. Like giving nicknames to cute boys, sitting on the radiator at lunchtime, coming up with strange dance routines, dissecting every little conversation and torturing teachers.

The madness of Georgia’s family is what makes me laugh the most, however. Her manic cats and her odd but lovable little sister Libby are brilliant comic creations that lift these books into ‘genius’ category. For me at least.

So if you have never experienced the brilliance of these books before I urge you to go out now and pick one up. And best of all, for all you recovering English students out there – you don’t have to engage your brain, analyse or take notes on them! And you can easily read a whole one in a day. So go forth and giggle my dear readers, I believe you will thank me for it.


Paris

I have recently been perusing a few fashion blogs, particularly befrassy.com. The author lives in Paris and it just looks so idyllic and makes me long to be walking along Parisian streets in the sunshine in summery dresses, or sipping wine outside of a cute little bar, or getting lost once more in Louis Vuitton. Although, I would prefer not to get as lost as I did the last time I went to Paris with some friends a few years back! I swear, that place was a maze -there was an up escalator but no down!

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It’s very easy to idealise Paris, it really does seem like the most romantic, beautiful city. Although I remember being far too poor to afford *anything*, so I guess it isn’t always so ideal. It was amazing walking back at night after, crossing the many roads around the Arc de Triomphe, all lit up against the dark sky.

I need to travel more, really. I don’t always like going to new places and being spontaneous, it makes me anxious because I’m a control freak and I *hate* being lost. But whenever I have been somewhere new I’ve always enjoyed it, so I should just suck it up really. Venice was equally beautiful, and I’d love to go there again, although after I’ve been to Rome. As a Classics geek it’s really a prerequisite to go and nerd out over the Colosseum.

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Sadly this year all my spare money is going to pay for my education, but fingers crossed for a city break next year!