I never thought this can be a point of discussion until now. Few days back I read Virginia Woolf’s “A room of one’s own”. In this book she primarily focuses on the idea of women having a room of their own so that they can have freedom and luxury to write. I quote here- All I could do was to offer you an opinion upon one minor point. A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction; and that, as you will see, leaves the great problem of the true nature of woman and the true nature of fiction unsolved.

This book “A room of one’s own’ was first published in 1929 and even now decades later the issue persists. Can we put this on men and say they are bias toward women? No, if you see, a large fraction of readers consist of women.

When I did little research on this issue, I came across data which was based on Survey conducted by VIDA in 2010. An article published in “The Guardian” states this fact very clearly that there is a big gap between female authors and male authors being published. Is it because a large number of publications reject female writers work or men outnumber women just by the fact that fewer women try their hand in writing? 

Let me break it down for you-

1. VIDA FACTS

VIDA: Women in Literary Arts support women and their contribution to literature. VIDA conduct surveys every year to see how women are doing in literature and how much attention is being given to them by various publications.

According to survey conducted in 2016, there was some improvement from the year 2010.

a) There were 29 Women as compared to 49 men who got published in GRANTA (a magazine and publisher based in UK) in 2010 which went high in 2015 with 33 women as compared to 35 men.

b) For poetry the number increased from 165/246 in 2010 to 185/188 in 2015.

c) When it comes to how many female critics got their voice heard the numbers are really bad.

“London Review of Books” featured 527 male authors and critics compared with just 151 women in 2014. The New York Times book review featured an overall 909 male contributors to 792 women.

2. Male pseudonyms

Male pseudonyms were very common in 18^th and 19^th century. They were female writer’s card to the world of literature. They were proof that the author of this book is real genius and means business. Can women write? Yes, they can; in fact they are brilliant in what they do. Mary Ann Evans is an example of this who you know from her pen name “George Elliot”.  Yet even today name matters, why?

If you think these are only theories than you should read this . A tell all story by renowned author Catherine Nichols where she submits a manuscript under a male pseudonym. She received eight times the number of responses she had received under her own name.

3. Elements of Surprise 

Surveys like “Are women better writer than men?” demean the whole idea of being a writer in first place. The question should be how we can promote diversity in literature? There must be writers out there who don’t want to be methodical but different. The difference is because of the prevailing idea in our society that men are intellectually more superior to women. It’s like getting surprised and showering praise for a man who comes in support of women rights. Ignoring all the efforts millions of women are making every day for their own rights. I bet you, if a male writer wants to publish on a sensitive subject such as feminism, there will be a queue of publisher standing right outside his door.

Is there any solution to this? Will there ever be? How long will it take our society to understand that we all are human beings irrespective of our gender, status or race? Our minds are unique. Each one of us has a right to have a say in different matters irrespective of who we are.

We have come a long way where women no longer have to hide behind a pseudonym. They can walk the walk and talk the talk as freely as men do. Female authors have published a wide genre of books which are getting the reception they deserve, “Wild- Cheryl Strayed”, “The lowland- Jhumpa Lahiri”, “The hunger games- Suzanne Collins” and “Gone Girl- Gillian Flynn” to name a few.

There are so many female authors I haven’t read myself. The conclusion I draw from these facts is – We should give female authored book a chance to inspire our lives.

How much do you think there is gender bias in literature and how it affects you as a reader?

Run infant woman
run as fast as you can in any direction
that seems

AWAY

run till you threaten to drop dead

or

just drop
skinned needs, skinned knees,
runs in your new tights
heels of your palms bleeding
from where you s k I d along the unforgiving asphalt
that had been lying in wait for your stumble
hungry for your blood
hungry for your self
—
effacement to bring you
back to this place
so well known

-when you- smart actualized near woman you-
go THERE
and stumble

the asphalt only wins
if
you continue to wear that same pair of tights

(no matter how many times you
s k I d along the unforgiving asphalt
the thing that matters most is that you land softer)

The greatest gift my mother has ever given me was a love for books. As a little girl, she would often read to me; I didn’t realize it then, but those precious moments before bed would turn help me realize the importance and solidarity of girl power.

Long before I was interested in makeup or boys, I was fascinated with literature. It’s a running joke in my family that if I ever went missing I was most likely to be found tucked in a corner somewhere, too engrossed in a book to hear the cries for dinner.

My favorite stories growing up were those of heroes; I was never interested in tales of the damsel in distress, whose only purpose in a novel was to serve as the love interest for the male protagonist.

I idolized characters such as Hermione Granger  from Harry Potter and Jo March from Little Women because instinctually, I saw myself in both of them. Brash, bookish, and opinionated, these characters were not princesses but game-changers in the novels they resided in.

Now back to reality. Like many, I was shocked at the results of the latest U.S. election.

I was dismayed that my fellow Americans chose a man who dismissed claims of sexual assault because he concluded the accusers were “too ugly.” Horrified, I read articles that spoke of the possibility of criminalizing abortion, of women losing the right in determining their own healthcare.

In the same year that saw the first female presidential candidate and a chance to break a 238-year-old glass ceiling, we met a man who had a well-documented history of mocking and degrading women. A man who still managed to receive 62 million votes, and claim the title of our future president.

Women did not receive the right to vote in the U.S. until 1920. For many, Roe vs. Wade is more recent memory than history; the landmark Supreme Court trial disallowing state restrictions on abortions did not occur until 1973.

We make 80 cents to a man’s dollar, and in some workplaces women are still penalized for maternity leave. Although women have increased their numbers in the 21st century, men still historically dominate STEM careers.

In spite of the struggles overcome for gender equality and girl power, there is much more we can improve on in the future.

With the New Year comes with the promise of new changes. 2017 ushers in President-elect Trump, who many fear will doom the country to an unstable fate. But the time for fear is over; instead, it’s time for action.

In the face of seemingly menacing promises, women need to stand up for what they believe in and support their fellow women. We need to stand strong in the face of an administration that seemingly wants to suppress our voices; by electing an individual who so openly disrespected women in the past, his views are not likely to change anytime soon.

Most importantly, we need to educate our youth on the potential of girl power. The girls of tomorrow can be anything they want: a lawyer, doctor, or the first female president. One day, I hope to raise a daughter like my mom raised me; someone who’s passionate with a love of reading, who is inspired and encouraged to reach for their dreams.

Caroline V. Corbitt is an intended Graphic Design major and Photography minor at the University of Georgia. She did a series, with the help of her close friend Ashlyn Davis, titled Milk Eggs Flour for one of her photo classes. Her series depicts herself being covered with the three ingredients milk, eggs and flour, to portray the falsity of feminine ideals.

The idea behind her piece has to do with the fact that women believe they have to be perfect all the time.

“Women are under so much pressure to be better than other women,” she says,” It’s crazy how much we rely on our looks and makeup to feel beautiful.”

She covered herself in these key ingredients to show that you can feel beautiful no matter how you look.

“It’s really about how you feel,” she explains,”I feel the most beautiful when I’ve just taken a shower and am bundled up watching T.V., just clean.”

“That’s not how many girls want boys to see them however, and that’s just crazy to me!”

“I felt beautiful when being photographed covered in goo and all women should feel beautiful, even if there is egg on their face.”

“Women should be able to be their whole selves and feel good. We put all kinds of junk on our faces to be ‘beautiful’, and when it comes down to it, it’s really just junk that clogs your pours!”

Artist’s website: sw33tc4r0.tumblr.com

(Anonymous)

I grew up most of my life fearful of sex and ashamed of the human form, particularly my own. My first encounter with sex was learning about what it was, “where babies come from,” in the fourth grade while playing Barbies at my neighbor’s house, when the bride and Ken were seemingly attacking one another naked. Appalled, I asked her why they were doing so before she explained what making love was.

When I asked my mother, a conservative, head-covered Muslim woman, about it later, she was upset with my curiosity and told me to hold off on questions until I was an adult. It was understandable, considering I was the eldest daughter of the first Arabian-American generation in our family, and the indubitable expectation was that I, and my siblings, would hold steadfast to tradition and religion.

Yet, I can’t help but wonder if I would have ended up the way I did if I had received answers instead of admonitions.

Fast forward to the fifth grade: my playground pal and I pretended to be strippers on the monkey bars and swing poles. I started buying triangle bras. Sixth grade: I began flirting with boys and they wrote me poems about “doing it.” Seventh grade: my first real crush that I dreamt about sleeping with. Upon entering high school, I developed multiple eating disorders in my attempts to gain control over my life and sexuality – and in the hopes that I would be appealing to the boys around me.

I was the rebellious one. I didn’t think so at the time, not in the slightest, but I was usually in trouble for one reason or another. My parents lived in the fear of my potential deviance and I lived in the fear of never feeling free.

Traditional Middle Eastern views are restrictive ones – I’ve read and expanded on theories that sexual repression is the most significant contributor to the oppressive culture permeating much of the Muslim world. Turning pleasure into a sin – in addition to anything that could conceivably lead to lustful thoughts, including integration of the sexes, equality for women, and revealing clothing – was and is how to control people. By making human nature inherently shameful.

My first kiss was at age sixteen, incredibly insecure and emotionally unstable enough to avoid relationships.

I made out with and lead on many guys following that first time, while I faked desire and experience as I gathered it; eventually, I grew feelings for two older men, entering unhealthy relationships that ended with their falling in love and wanting to get married. I promptly ended them, one after the other, and subsequently entered a deep depression. Not as a result of them, but due to the constant state of shame I was in, especially while experimenting and lying to my parents and those surrounding me.

I gained a lot of weight my senior year of high school. Even less comfortable in my own skin, I sought validation from anywhere. I hooked up with my best friend’s boyfriend, a promiscuous boy who loved her but loved my body.

I lost my technical virginity to a friend who fell for me after a night I got drunk and he didn’t, while feigning more experience in bed than I actually had. I started having sex with strangers, sometimes not knowing their names. I’d ignore their calls and texts afterwards. I slept with an ex-porn star and got so drunk I was raped twice. One guy I spent some nights with woke up in the middle of one night and gave it to me rectally, so I wouldn’t get pregnant without a condom, and woke me up with his orgasm before we just fell back asleep.

I liked sex, I genuinely did.

Even objectified, I got turned on by just about everything. I seriously considered posing nude, making porn videos, or escorting to turn it into a career. Not that I was proud of my body, but I liked how it could feel and make others feel. But I felt used, so used and abused. It wasn’t right and I knew it. I was still waking up every morning wanting to die, drinking until I felt dead and using sex as a means to feel a little bit alive.

After the unprotected anal, I got tested with all clean results and in my paranoia, took thirty days of anti-HIV medication, blessing the clinic that helped me get a thousand-dollar prescription at a steep discount.

I was still sleeping around until finishing the regimen, when I felt really forced to reflect on if this type of life was what I really wanted. Someone once said that trouble always found me, but that’s not true: I actively sought it.  I went out of my way to not have sex for ten days, and while it wasn’t a relief I did feel slightly better knowing that I could in fact willingly go without it for some time.

I went back to my hometown about halfway through this past semester, and spent some time with my younger sister, who happens to be my best friend in the world. We have a lot in common, understandably; we share DNA and upbringing.

As cliché as it sounds, I realize that many of the mistakes I made allow her to learn from me instead of having to go through it all herself.

I was an extrovert to her introvert, and I was the problem child to her golden one. But we both had this bottomless sense of loneliness in our psyches, and paradoxically, we reveled in that loneliness together.

Through her, I began to realize that sex is not really a way to fill a void inside of my heart. And even if that I was a route I wanted to take, it shouldn’t bring me as much inner guilt and shame as it was.

I still have casual sex, but it’s no longer a compulsion. I see a counselor for other things going on in my life, but constant shame as a result of intimacy is no longer one of them.

(Written by Madison Snelling)

More college students are traveling and volunteering abroad than ever before.

I have volunteered with multiple organizations in multiple countries, seeking a combination of work and travel experience. My desire to see the world and work abroad is by no way unique; my generation, more than any previously, is interested in supporting initiatives that “better the world.”

We are concerned with increasing the welfare of people globally, invested in philanthropic societies and ideals. However, while we are avid supporters of good causes, we hardly ever criticize the programs and organizations that serve them. In an era when we are so focused on development and volunteerism, it is important that we look at the ideologies that are driving certain programs, and the program’s unintended results.

A big push is being made in the development world to implement programs that target women’s financial status.

The generally held belief is that money invested in impoverished women is more likely to be invested back into the family, as women are “instinctively maternal” and will want to improve their family’s well-being.

Sounds good right? These programs seem to be empowering women, and directly focus on families in need of additional income. However, if we investigate the ideologies and theories driving these programs, there are serious weaknesses in the way in which development has been conceptualized and implemented. Maternal altruism is one of the persisting limitations with development ideology and practice particularly in Sub-Saharan Africa.

Maternal altruism, as defined by Richard Schroeder, is the “ideology that stipulates that women are, by virtue of their identities as mothers and wives, ‘naturally’ predisposed toward nurturing and self-sacrifice,” (Schroeder, 9).

Maternal altruism is the driving force behind many women-centered development programs.

The inherent assumption of maternal altruism is that women’s own aspirations are heroically neglected in order to prioritize the needs of their family members.

Further, by characterizing women as a homogeneous group defined by selflessness, “maternal altruism” also erases class, race, or any kind of individuality that may influence women’s motivations to take care of family members or perform traditional work. It is an ideology that encourages the ascription of sameness. The elimination of diversity of body and belief amongst women in developing nations makes all hundreds of millions of them a single uniform group.

Picture an “African woman” in your head. What do you see?

Does she have something balancing on her head? A baby strapped to her back? Is she standing in a field? Holding a bucket of water? All of these images portray a woman defined by maternal altruism. These are the only pictures we see of “African women” in development campaigns. I do not believe these pictures are staged; women do fetch water, they do take care of children, and they do preform agricultural work.

My problem with these images is that development organizations and the public are taking them at face value. No one is asking why. Why are you preforming the agricultural work? Is it really because you only have interest in ensuring that your family has something to eat or is it because it is your ethnic custom? Is it because it is your only source of income?

If it is, would you rather be doing something else? What would that be and what do you need to do it? Many development non-profits invest in women’s agricultural work to better ensure family food stability. While full stomachs are a noble cause, these programs need to be asking if women aspire to do something else.

Women’s development initiatives need to move away from the mindset of maternal altruism and truly empower women by giving them the tools to make their own diverse choices.

When I volunteered at Give a Heart To Africa (GHTA) in Moshi, Tanzania last summer, I worked for an organization that focused on women. GHTA’s school aimed to give local women the tools and skills they need to open their own small business. My students had widely different interests; Mariamu wanted to expand her current business, Esther wanted to open a fabric shop, Tausi wanted to be an English translator, and Faraha wanted to be able to read English books to her kids at night.

Each woman had an invested interest in their family, but also had interests of their own. The diversity of aspiration in one small school shatters the notion of maternal altruism. We would never expect women in the US to universally forgo personal interests for those of the family. We would never categorize US mothers as a homogeneous group.

There are bad mothers, ambitious mothers, childless women who do not fit the idyllic category put forth by the ideology. The fact is, there are bad mothers, ambitious mothers, and childless women in developing nations, so why do we hold them to a different standard?

No group of women is the same.

Why do some development organizations throw the blanket of maternal altruism over all of these women? Because we, as non-profit supporters, volunteers, and fundraisers, allow them to. As consumers on the development market, we can use our “purchasing power” by investing in organizations that have well-constructed programs; programs that do not ascribe homogeneity to their recipients, programs that give people the power to make their own choices.

We, as college students, are the largest group ever to be invested in development initiatives. Whether by volunteering, fundraising, or raising awareness we often support the operations of organizations without truly understanding the ramifications behind their actions.

We receive the benefit of feeling good about contributing to “bettering the world,” and walk away before we witness the aftermath, or look too closely at the labels we place on those receiving a program’s benefits. By turning a critical eye to non-profit organizations and their work, we can influence the way in which future programs are constructed.

(Written by Anonymous)

As most people will tell you, high school is not easy.

I went to a small, all-girls, private school in Greenwich, CT, which was my own personal version of hell. I was out of place in so many ways when I started 9th grade. These girls bought backpacks worth hundreds of dollars, while I bought mine for $20 at Target.

They were all so beautiful. The majority looked like Barbie dolls: tall with straight, silky hair, skinny and radiating with confidence. Meanwhile, I was tiny with thin, frizzy hair, quiet, and meek. Keep in mind, there were a few special butterflies like myself, but I stand by the fact that most girls were outwardly flawless.

Still, I tried to keep positive and enjoy my experience for what it was.

However, when you’re trying to discover your identity, it doesn’t help when you’re surrounded by women who show you everything that you are not. My meager confidence dwindled, and I started to keep my head down. I tried to be friends with some of the kinder girls, and that worked out for a while.

I got particularly close to one girl, Anna, and we became best friends. She had severe depression and anxiety and needed me there to help her and be there for her; a role that I was more than happy to take on.

When Anna’s troubles got too much for her in 12th grade, she decided to transfer to a high school in a different state.

I was left alone.

I thought that some of the other girls we would hang out with might reach out to me, given how devastated I was by Anna leaving. But instead, they took her transfer as an opportunity to stop hanging out with me once and for all. As it turns out, they only tolerated me because they had been friends with Anna many years before I arrived.

I spent the remainder of my senior year alone, surrounded by a sea of girls who acted like I was invisible. By the time graduation came about, I was beyond relieved to never have to step foot in those halls again.

I left immediately after graduation to find work at a beach town in Long Island three hours away so I would not have to run into anyone I knew. I left high school with a mistrust of females my age that reached down to my core.

I would avoid other girls at all cost, for fear of being shunned.

I hated how the girls in high school made me feel, and that hatred generalized itself to include anyone who reminded me of them. My mother, who had always been an amazing supporter for me, decided that I needed to overcome my fear of women before entering college, and I think a part of me agreed with her.

As a graduation present, she wanted to sign us up for a surf trip in Nicaragua. The catch? It was ONLY girls.

I have loved surfing since I was little and the idea of a surf trip sounded incredible to me, but I did not want to go.

The idea of spending a week with only women terrified me. After much debate, I decided that I could not miss out on an opportunity to surf in a country on my bucket list, and I really was hoping that my least favorite gender would redeem themselves.

The day my mom and I arrived at the surf camp, we were greeted by the women who ran the camp, who were (to my delight!) two beautiful, tall blonde women, just a few years older than me. I couldn’t swallow my disdain.

We met the other women in the program: another mother-daughter pair and the other female surf instructors. The instructors explained to us that each day, we would go to a beach and the instructors would take us into the ocean and coach us to improve.

Being already proficient at surfing, I assumed that I could just go out into the water and surf alone and would not have to interact with the others. With that thought in mind, I slept peacefully that night.

As the week went on, I found that all of the women in the program were individually inspiring. The two blonde women, Noelani and Lauren, were encouraging and supportive. They helped me improve my surfing, and I found myself wanting to spend time with them.

As it turns out, Noelani didn’t like the people she went to college with and did not enjoy her experience there. She showed me that it was okay that I didn’t fit in during high school and made me realize that there was much more to come.

Halfway through the trip, tragedy struck at home.

One of my sister’s friends was killed in a boating accident. My mom and I were shocked and devastated. Noelani, originally from Hawaii, showed us how to make leis out of flowers to celebrate her life rather than mourn her death. Together, we released the leis into the ocean and prayed for her soul.

Surfing was something that was always extremely important to me, but until this trip, my mom had never stood up on a surfboard. Noelani and Lauren brought my mom and I closer as they helped her reach her goal. When my mom first stood up on the board, I was glowing with pride and felt like my mom was proud of me.

All of the mother-daughter pairs at the surf camp had different qualities. The mother, Shelly, seemed hard and strict at first, but throughout the experience she softened.

The daughter, Maya, was about 12 years old and loved to read. She was tiny with short dark hair, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of myself when I was her age. She would tell me about her stories, and I would tell her about mine. I could tell how much she looked up to me.

On the final day of the trip, Noelani asked me if I had reached the goal I set for myself on the first day: to master dropping in on steep waves. While I did reach this goal, I admitted to myself and Noelani that I had also reached a different goal: to love myself for who I was.

My friendships with these women made me realize that my problem wasn’t with women, it was with myself. People are going to act how they are going to act, and there is nothing I can do about that. What I can do is not let others dictate my self confidence.

It has been a year and a half since that surf trip, and ever since then, I remember that I choose my own worth. I choose what impact I am going to make. I choose.

(Written by Carrie Anderson)

“I deserve better —such a dangerous, mad thought for a woman to entertain.”
― Meredith Duran, At Your Pleasure

I deserve better. You deserve better. We deserve better.

The phrase “I deserve better” is still a radical thought for women. We are taught at a young age to be completely selfless. This is a cultural norm for everyone, but the point is stressed further to young girls. We are taught to give constantly without much thought of receiving. This needs to change. We need to fight for selfishness and embrace the idea that we deserve better.

We deserve better in our love life.

Sometimes it seems like I am the only 21-year-old female without a significant other. Or at least that is the impression I get when friends and family back home say “So, still single or do you have a boyfriend?”

The first thing wrong with this statement is the presumption that I need a guy in my life. I feel that I need to focus on myself right now. I deserve to be selfish and enjoy my life while I’m young and able to seek new opportunities. I deserve to go and excel in my internship this summer and find new opportunities in a potential professional career.

On the other side of the argument, there is nothing wrong with finding that significant other, but the call for selfishness remains. Nobody should settle for less than you deserve. I believe that a basis in faith is important in finding your soul mate. If your boyfriend has different morals or values, don’t compromise what you believe for someone.

Another important aspect for me is family. If a man cannot accept your family, he is not prepared to accept you. Women should demand the same level of respect for people they care about and not cower to other people’s opinions. Settling is a slippery slope that can lead to unhappiness later down the road. My job for all girls is to stand up for what you believe in and refuse to settle for any boy who is not prepared to be a man.

We deserve better in our careers.

One battle that women constantly fight is equal treatment in the workplace. It is sad that women can still be seen as just the secretaries in business settings. I am in a major and career track that is dominated by women, Public Relations, but still I will make less than any man working the same exact job.

I feel that I need to work even harder to make up for my gender. This is completely ridiculous in modern society. Two women have announced they are running for president. If that does not show the correct way to claim some selfishness I do not know what else can. We should demand the respect we deserve and not just meekly ask for it. I am not condoning being rude or obnoxious toward people in the workplace or in life, I am only pushing women as a whole to fight for what we deserve.

We deserve better in life.

Women need to be selfish for ourselves. As a culture we need to stop creating a cycle of suppression that starts at a young age when little girls take care of the baby doll while the little boys save the world as a super hero.

We owe the next generation to make ourselves into heroines that girls can look up to and say, “I want to be her when I grow up.” A little bit of selfishness can go a long way when it means that we can think for ourselves first. This may be in a potential relationship, a job offer, or an assignment or position in school. So as a whole I want everyone to ask himself or herself a simple question.

Don’t you deserve better?