I wrote a piece for the Guardian about man-shaming portmanteaus – they need to die


I wrote a thingy for the Guardian about man-shaming portmanteaus – mansplaining, manslamming, manterrupting, manspreading, etc. They’re stupid, stop it – men are people too, I suppose. Male entitlement is an issue. Derogatory words highlight the problem (and are fun, let’s be honest), but fuelling gender-squabbling isn’t doing equality any favours. Funnily enough, this seemed to be a popular piece with men-folk. Fancy version here, unedited version below. 

Men. If they’re not ‘mansplaining’ things to women they’re ‘manslamming’ us in the street, ‘manspreading’ on the tube or ‘manterrupting’ us during work meetings. Even as a hairy, sensible-shoe wearing man-hater – otherwise known as a feminist – the rise and rise of the man-shaming portmanteau has left me feeling a little uncomfortable.

First there was mansplaining, which was declared 2014’s Aussie word of the year by Macquarie Dictionary of Australian English this week. It refers to the very real tendency of some men to explain things to women, whether they need them explaining or not, because of an ingrained assumption that they’re too ignorant – their pretty little heads too full of boys and make-up, no doubt – to understand.

The term is thought to have been first coined by feminist commentators in 2008 following the publication of Rebecca Solnit’s scathing essay, Men Explain Things to Me. The piece recounted the painful tale of the time an over-confident and clueless man at a party explained her own book to her – an experience that many women can sympathise with to some degree.

One of the problems with simplistic terms like this however, is their ease of use and humour risk diluting any message. They become an easy-to-mouth solution for a more complicated problem, and this one quickly took on more pejorative meanings. It became a go-to phrase for mumbled or garbled explanations and the trump card in arguments, but this sort of overuse just desensitises us to the real issue which is that, yes, some men really do talk down to women.

More recently, manspreading reared it’s ugly, er… head. According to the New York Times, who announced a Metropolitan Transportation Authority campaign to banish it from the New York subway late last year, that’s when men “spread their legs wide, into a sort of V-shaped slouch, effectively occupying two, sometimes even three, seats” on crowded trains. Then New York Magazine hit us with manslamming: pedestrian collisions caused by the refusal of some men to make space for other people using the same pavement, especially women. They said of the two issues that “arguably, both are symptoms of a culture that teaches men to self-assuredly occupy any and all space available to them, regardless of who’s nearby.”

While a sense of entitlement certainly causes some people to behave inappropriately towards others, privilege is far more complicated than man versus woman. Aside from a few word derivatives – such as ‘whitesplaining’ – the man-shaming portmanteau ignores other socio-economic factors associated with entitlement like race, class or aesthetic values.

The most recent lexical blends to enter the fray are Time magazine’s manterrupt and ‘bropropriate’. The former blending ‘man’ and ‘interrupt’ to describe an unnecessary interruption of a woman by a man, often in the work place, and the later denoting the stealing of a woman’s ideas and taking credit for them. It puts me in mind of an old Fast Show sketch where three men are discussing how to break into a car, presumably one of them has accidentally locked his keys inside. Arabella Weir, who happens to be strolling past, suggests putting a half a tennis ball over the lock, “then smash it with the palm of your hand and the air pressure forces the lock up”. The men ignore her and then pass the idea of as their own while she looks on, horrified: “can any of you actually here me?”

While women are certainly not equal at work, a recent survey found that female employees felt they were held back by negative office politics, neologisms like manterrupt risk trivialising the problem and undermine feminism’s message of equality, not anti-male rhetoric. They serve to polarise people rather then unite us against gender-based social discrepancies and invite absolutism – “manterrupting? Never speak when a woman is speaking because she is a woman,” raged one Redditor.

It reeks of gender essentialism – the idea that specific physical, social and cultural traits are native to a particular gender. It may be satisfying, refreshing, even empowering, to give men a hard time, but I can’t help imagine how I would feel if faced with similar accusations – ‘womanterrupting’ or ‘womansplaining’ for example. It would be degrading.

Besides, bad behavior is not exclusive to the male half of the species. I’m guilty of at least a few of these terms. I’ve had the odd fracas with tortoise-paced members of the public during a frenzied morning commute. Not because of their gender, but because in the awful time-sparse world of a city dweller they were – and I’m not proud of this – collateral damage. On the tube, I find it comfortable to sit with one leg crossed over the other, despite the fact that it means accidentally kicking standing passengers sometimes. I have patronisingly explained the obvious to intelligent people on more occasions than I care to recount and, sometimes, on intercity trains, I leave my coat on the seat next to me so people think I have a friend in the toilet.

Entitlement is still a problem. However, before we go smooshing any more man-words together, it might be worth remembering that a prat is a prat, whatever their gender.

On sex and the English language


Dick, prick, cock, knob, willy – are you offended yet?

Twat, gash, pussy, cunt. How about now?

After years of listening to drunken spats while working in pubs, where the English language is usually at its most colourful, I have learnt two things. Firstly, that whisky chasers and prolonged sun exposure are a terrible mix and secondly, that if you really, really want to provoke someone, you call them a cunt. And that’s not just limited to the world of recreational drinking, it works across most sectors of the community. I’ve tried.

However, last week, 14 year old Tuesday Cain‘s downstairs bits, or her unusual confidence in talking openly about them, became the subject of an internet firestorm. She’d been protesting a new highly restrictive anti-abortion law in her home state of Texas and her protest banner read: ‘Jesus isn’t a dick; so keep him OUT of MY VAGINA!’ Many – mostly Republicans, pro-life campaigners, trolls and religious nutters – branded her, rather strangely, a ‘lesbian.’ Now aside from the obvious Jesus obstacle, which is a whole other topic, what seems to have caused the most offence is the word ‘vagina’.

While male sex words may be mildly offensive to some, it’s the ones pertaining to the lady bits that have an awesomely dark power to enrage. In an over sexualised society, our use of language is very telling. No single word conjures up images of grotty porn more than ‘pussy’. ‘Twat’ doubles up, rather darkly, as slang for hitting someone and ‘gash’ is just downright twisted. ‘Vagina’ is the official medical word, it’s not sexy ergo using it makes you a lesbian. That’s right – a desexualised attitude towards the female body means you must be gay (which is still an issue for some idiots). It still goes against the grain to say vagina. Some people even take it to mean something anti-male (look at last year’s Vaginagate scandal).

There is no male equivalent, not penis, dong, wang, sausage or throbbing member, that invites quite the same sort of prejudice. We tend to find the penis funny while the vagina continues to be a detached political entity. Interestingly though, according to an old Guardian survey, more women than men are offended by these words. I’d like to think that’s due to some deep-rooted feminism, but it’s more likely because of an awkwardness towards the body all together.

Personally, if I had to pick one term to jump up and down on it would have to be ‘pussy’. It immediately makes an everyday body part seem seedy – all greasy lube and fake nails. But at least one thing’s come out of the Tuesday Cain affair, now I know how to really piss off an American.

That’s right, you’re a vagina.

I will leave you with a video that I found on Jezebel. It’s a subverted retelling of Robin Thicke’s highly questionable ‘sound of the summer’ Blurred Lines (the one with all the naked women that makes me want to hurt people) by Seattle boylesque troupe Mod Carousel.