2013-05-22T02:07:23-04:00 Ashley Fryer http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/author/index.php?author=ashley-fryer Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Ashley Fryer Good old fashioned elbow grease. tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1970832 2012-10-16T13:29:10-04:00 2012-12-16T05:12:02-05:00

Ashley Fryer http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ashley-fryer/
1) Men and women are equal now - we don't need feminists anymore

Despite the fact that we have come along way since the fight for women's suffrage, there is still a lot to do in order to realise full equality between men and women. For one thing, the pay gap in the UK has been around 25% since 2000 - that's 12 years with no improvement. And at the moment, women make up just over 15% of board members.

Looking at the disturbing idiocy of sites like unilad.com (this link goes to our posts related to unilad, not to the site itself), shows there is a lot to be done to get rid of misogyny and sexism. It is incredibly ignorant to assume that just because we have the vote and can drive in the western world, women and men are treated as equals. We still need feminism.

If you have a spare 15 minutes, DO check out this amazing video of Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard delivering the mother of all smackdowns to the leader of the opposition concerning his misogynistic and sexist hypocrisy.

2) Feminists hate men

This might be one of the biggest (and most disturbing?) misconceptions about feminists. Feminism at its most basic is about equality - not supremacy. Hating men would have absolutely no positive impact, as the only way we can achieve equality is through men and women working together. We need men to be on board with us if we are ever going to change things - so hating them will achieve absolutely nothing.

Besides, I like men. They can be really fun and sometimes they make you eggy crumpets when you're hungover. And my dad makes the best pavlova in the world.

3) Feminists are militant fun sponges

"Feminists do not know how to have fun. Every conversation is an angry rant from an uptight woman who's probably just in need of a good shag." Yes - that is actually an argument someone used in front of me during a discussion about feminism. I almost had to laugh. In the same conversation he used the word 'feminazi' and 'man hating'. Au contraire, mon frere. Most of my female friends are feminists and they are some of the funniest, coolest, kinkiest people you will ever meet. And boy, do they get laid. I'm absolutely, passionately, and resolutely feminist in my views, but I don't bring it up in every single conversation and I don't shout down people who don't agree with me.

Yes, some feminists are militant, but that's a good thing. We need some of us to be the passionate ones, that march and scream and shout about it. But it's also ok if you're not that way inclined. No one wants to spend seven days a week angry. I like talking about feminism because I like to understand why people don't identify as such (for me it is the default position - I am usually amazed that people don't realise that it's essentially about equal rights for women AND men). But I have never once yelled at someone for not agreeing with me.

4) You cannot be a feminist and a housewife

This is another popular myth - even among people who identify as feminists. Feminism is about equality, and part of equality is having the right to choose what you want to do. I believe as a modern woman that you have just as much right to choose to be a stay at home mum as you do to be a rocket scientist. Being a housewife used to be the default - it used to be the very symbol of female oppression. Well, I don't think it is anymore. You should be able to choose what you do. See the movie Mona Lisa Smile for more on this.

It annoys me when people suggest that baking cupcakes or wearing aprons or going to sewing classes is a step backwards for women. It's not. It's not symptomatic of a mass regression into the days where women were expected to be at home all day - if anything I think reclaiming such hobbies is a positive thing. If no one is standing over you demanding that you darn socks and put dinner on the table by six, I say sew on. The current fashion for twee is harmless - it is not the first sign of the apocalypse, and it is not damaging to the feminist cause. You can absolutely enjoy knitting and baking while simultaneously campaigning for equality. To suggest cupcakes and feminism are mutually exclusive is to make women one dimensional. Equality should encompass the freedom to choose your hobbies.

5) Feminists are all hairy-legged bra-burners

Bra-burning has to be one of the most ridiculous myths. Bras are designed for support, not restriction. If you're small-breasted, let your boobs fly free - but if you have rather larger breasts, bras are fairly essential for comfort. Besides, a quality bra is expensive - so bra-burning really isn't a sustainable activity in this economy.

And the phrase 'hairy-legged feminists' is one that just seems to roll off the tongue, like 'chocolate chip cookie'. Shaving and waxing are 100% personal choices that generally do not have a much of a bearing on your views on equality. Some women don't shave in order to make a point about beauty standards, others just prefer to be au naturale - but the thing to remember is that women that do shave/wax and women who wear make up etc are just as likely to be feminists than those who don't. Shaving your legs, waxing your bikini line, and having a minor addiction to Lancome does not make you a bad feminist - it's a personal choice. The bullshit argument that says women wear make up and shave to please men is nonsense. I do not get up in the morning and think, 'I reckon the patriarchy will be pleased by my freshly waxed eyebrows today'. (Though if you are thinking that at 7am then you might want to have a word with yourself.) It's none of your damn business if someone, feminist or not, decides to let nature keep them cosy or not. It's about the freedom to do what you want and not prevent others from doing their own thing.

~

So, what are your top myths about feminism?]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1326721 2012-03-08T09:00:00-05:00 2012-05-08T05:12:02-04:00

Ashley Fryer http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ashley-fryer/ Caitlin Morans and India Knights to the @NotRollergirl's and @peachesanscream's, are the free thinking, intelligent (and often hilarious) voices that need to be heard -
and Twitter is listening.

I don't know what it is about women, but there's definitely a wavelength, and most of us seem to be on it. We're all wildly different, with our unique idiosyncrasies and whathaveyou; we're not all friends, we don't all believe in the same things, and we don't all like each other, but it's there. Women have a certain je ne sais quoi that makes being a woman something of a shared experience. Was it the centuries of oppression, inequality or second-class-citizenship? A shared sense of humour over the boatload of biological crap sent our way? Could it be a hormonal or evolutionary thing? Or is it something else? Whatever it is, throughout history women have categorically stuck together in a way that is quite different to men. The female relationship has been a core element of the human race since the dawn of time. And now it's permeating the Twitterverse faster than the latest animal flu.

I sometimes wonder if Twitter is particularly great for women because for the first time, it doesn't matter at all what you look like, what you sound like, or what do you. It's a whole new generation of media, defined by the thoughts and opinions of those we choose to listen to. We don't have to hear what Cameron has to say, we don't have to follow the Sun, or Piers Morgan or Justin Bieber. We can select exactly which voices we want to hear. The women who are making noise on Twitter have something to say. We're all talking to each other. We're making each other laugh. The experience of womanhood (which, let's face it, is no picnic) is no longer something you write about in your diary, by torchlight, under a duvet - it's writ large in 140 character soundbites, offering humour, wisdom and real consideration. It's sort of magic.

The Awesome Women of Twitter (AWOT), which started last year, is living, breathing proof, that the female relationship, or at least the female dialogue, is alive and well. I, like most Twitter addicts, follow a few hundred people (both menfolk and ladies). But more often than not, it is the women who've provoked a reaction. It's the women in my timeline that are having the interesting conversations (just google #presleepliedown) and it's the women who are building actual relationships. That's not to say I don't love and respect the male presence on Twitter too - I do - but the female conversation on Twitter is just different. It feels more real.

Take for instance, this story from Lauren Bravo, who more or less rescued a fellow lady from a man harassing her on the street. Lauren acted out a whole charade of female friendship with a complete stranger to get rid of a creepy man, in an act of solidarity that goes above and beyond the usual call of duty. There's a real message there, about women and (though I loathe to say it), the sisterhood. It exists, people. It always has. So it makes sense that the relationships that were once built over years of socialising and time-spending, are now built online in 140 characters or less. Twitter is enabling conversations and women are owning that shit.

No one IRL sends me pictures of ferrets in tuxedos, no one else writes the thought-provoking posts that stay with you all day, no one else can champion the hashtag #cheesecoma with such joyful abandon. So this International Women's Day, I raise a gin and tonic to the wonderful women of Twitter. It is OUR day.

For more information about AWOT, check out the Team AWOT community blog, or follow us on Twitter.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.1030101 2011-10-25T08:10:19-04:00 2011-12-25T05:12:01-05:00

Ashley Fryer http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ashley-fryer/
But what of the womenfolk? Well, that's where this story really begins. A few hours ago, while mooching about on Twitter, a friend of mine posted the following: "Bringing up female masturbation with the girl on your course you don't know that well is always slightly nerve wracking #truthsoflife." I smiled at first, because yes, discussing masturbation with a near stranger is one of those awkward things university seminars occasionally demand (...I definitely did the wrong course). But then I was annoyed, because why should 'female masturbation' be any more awkward than male masturbation? Male masturbation is waved aside flippantly because it's to be expected. You'd be surprised if a man told you he didn't masturbate (particularly if you're in the middle of a discussion on the Eurozone, the NHS or similar). We expect men to masturbate, so why isn't there that same freedom for women?

As a child of an all girls boarding school, sex was the bread and butter of our conversations. We would gather around our bunk beds in our dormitories, whispering and wondering about sex. And it was only a matter of time before the ultimate question of 'do you masturbate?' rolled around. Never one to be coy, I would nod sagely and proffer my sexual wisdom (age 14 and never been kissed) to my fellow students. Some girls would stare open mouthed, some would agree and some would dismiss it altogether, blushing furiously and saying adamantly that they never, ever masturbated. It was all very funny to see my prudish friends when we were kids, and I assumed that as we grew up, everyone's attitudes to sex would naturally change. I didn't think masturbation was taboo any more. I assumed it was a given.

But then I got to university, and STILL the whispered conversations of masturbation occurred. And while I was a hair's breadth from becoming an Ann Summers demonstrator, some of my peers maintained a strict code of never (or at least never admitting to) masturbating. Now let me set one record straight - I have no issue with people wanting to keep their private lives private. Of course I wouldn't demand sexual secrets from my friends and roommates. It's a women's right etc etc. What shocked me was that women still treated masturbation as a big taboo. It was STILL shameful, still dirty and still only ever discussed after the third or fourth gin and tonic on a particularly juicy girl's night in. I couldn't believe it. Hadn't we moved on?

So when Twitter brought up the age old debate, I couldn't help it. A highly amusing and heated exchange sprang up, with some tweeters explaining that none of their friends EVER discussed masturbating, and others delightfully espousing the wonders of lovehoney.com. The divide was incredible. Some were religious, others just prudish and some just wanted to keep it private. I asked, is it taboo for women to masturbate? The first reply? 'It's taboo to ask about it on Twitter.' I think that answered my question fairly succinctly. In the world's biggest conversation, in which we've discussed everything from fake baby bumps to Gaddafi's mutilated corpse, it is still taboo to discuss women masturbating. We really haven't come much further than giggling teenagers sat around a bunk bed.

And really, this is just one tiny part of a much bigger conversation about female sexuality. But for the sake of women everywhere, for whom masturbation is a healthy part of their sex lives, I'm begging the world to get a grip. To the women of the world, I say this: reclaim the rights to your own vaginas. Masturbation is a healthy and happy part of sexuality. It's a headache cure, a muscle relaxant and an instant high. It's like cake with no calories. And let's be honest, if you don't know what's going on down there, an inexperienced man hasn't got a hope in hell. So please, take ownership of your sexuality and let's stop subscribing to this strange and damaging notion that masturbation is anything other than brilliant.
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.892977 2011-08-08T03:47:58-04:00 2011-10-07T05:12:02-04:00

Ashley Fryer http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ashley-fryer/ Sam pointed out recently that women can laugh at anything in the world except weight. It made me laugh at the time - partly because Sam's girlfriend Kate has a truly enviable figure, and partly because it is completely and utterly true. Most women have some sort of crazed complex about the way they look - whether their nose is too big, their forehead too high, or their legs that bit too short - but I think it is fair to say that each and every one of those women will also have some sort of hang up about their size. From the skinny six to the ample 20, it seems most women cannot abandon a certain amount of stress over their figure.

But this, of course, is no great revelation. We are more than aware that women are somewhat obsessed with size. Look at Heat magazine's cover on any given week - they condemn a woman for being too thin, celebrate her if she gains a couple of pounds, then damn her all over again when she is branded as 'fat' and has 'let herself go'. The Daily Mail claimed last month that Cheryl Cole was ordered to lose two stone for the US version of X Factor. Two stone? From where, I ask? I know her hair has been particularly large lately, but you would probably have to chop both her arms off to remove nearly 30lbs off poor old Chezza.

What is the goal we are striving for, when we jog, swim, spin and yoga ourselves into oblivion, while simultaneously living on lemon water and the odd cube of cheese? Is it for our health? I am all for maintaining a healthy lifestyle and keeping fit, but is this really just an excuse? The healthy weight range extends much further than most women's dream weight, so I can only assume that being thin is some sort of prized ideal, where other women eye you up enviably, and you become part of a secret sect of women who all praise your diligence and self discipline.

I am a victim of my own complexes - I battle between the urge to be the 'perfect' woman (what happens when you get there anyway - is there a parade? Are you welcomed into the universe of smug skinny women who congratulate you as your tummy rumbles? And when you get there, what happens next?) and the urge to reject the ideal completely. Is it really the case that only one body type can be recognised as ideal?

Perhaps it is because my own body is far from it, or perhaps it's because I am afraid of what would happen if I got there. Would I religiously run six miles every night just to keep the flab at bay? Would I feel horrendously guilty every time I ate a cupcake? Would I become one of those women that only bakes for other people, then looks on hungrily while my inner child slowly dies of starvation? Who would I be if I wasn't ever so slightly fat? And fat - what an ugly word! There is no escaping the fact that women like me call ourselves curvy, with the unspoken F word standing like the proverbial (cake-eating) elephant in the room.

I find it truly fascinating that almost all of my friends - who range from a size four to a size 18 - all have some sort of complex about their weight. I have watched my skinniest, tiniest friends berate themselves over eating a single chocolate bar, and watched in horror as they show me their 'muffin top' or their 'love handles.' I have to resist strangling these friends on a regular basis. They are already so many women's idea of perfect. Their faces, full of fat-fear, look back at me through a mirror, as they stare disdainfully down at their non-existent 'flaws', while I try to resist grabbing them and giving them a good shake. How do they not see they are already beautiful? These same friends will insist that I am beautiful no matter what I weigh - but if they are so disgusted by their own so called flaws, what must they really think of mine? My curvier friends, many of whom have bodies I would kill a man for, put themselves through weird diets and hardcore exercise regimes, and facebook feeds are suddenly rife with smug 'just been to the gym' statuses, and whiny 'just ate a snickers... want to die' posts. I am not suggesting for a moment that I am exempt from this bizarre disease (far from it) but it occurs to me that even if I was the size I want to be, I would still be too fat by someone's standards.

When did women stop being women, and start being numbers? Pounds, kilos, stone, inches, dress sizes - why does a woman's happiness depend so readily on something that, in the great scheme of things, is almost irrelevant? Ask any woman and most of them will tell you they want to lose a couple of pounds. Every woman has an ideal weight - that elusive number which remains just out of reach. Would anything really change if I ever got there? Would I be happier, knowing that more men out there found me attractive sans muffin top? Would I suddenly have the dream life I've always wanted to have? How much would being skinny change things? Kate Moss once quoted a famous piece of thinspiration, that 'nothing tastes as good as thin feels.' To the women who think so, I ask, really? What an utterly depression notion. Are you really defining happiness by something as insignificant as size? You poor, desperate creatures.

I wish for a time where women everywhere strive to be healthy. I used to desperately want to be a size 10. I spent months (OK, weeks) on ridiculous diets (one which caused me to pretty much pass out while shopping in Eldon Square) and I bought books like The Dukan Diet, which promised me I would be skinny forever if I only gave up carbs on Thursdays, or just ate grapefruit and eggs on weekends. I set myself ridiculous weight loss goals that would have put me at a worryingly low BMI, and would spend three days almost starving before giving up and hating myself all over again. But now, I say no more. I strive to be healthy, not skinny. My body is not built to be thin. I would look ill if I lost the three stone I once planned to lose.

So ladies, please - can we please just give it up now? I know every woman has the right to choose the way she lives her life, but do we need to continually strive to fulfil some bizarre goal to be a certain size? Dismiss me as a bitter fatty if you will, but I hope some day that women can find peace with their bodies. Put down the carrot sticks, put down the pound cake, and let's find a happy medium where moderation is the key and bacon butties are still allowed.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.916447 2011-08-04T05:00:00-04:00 2011-10-03T05:12:01-04:00

Ashley Fryer http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ashley-fryer/ How to Be a Woman, is still lurking at the top of the bestseller lists, having conquered the charts immediately at the book's release in June. Part biography, part feminist manifesto, How to Be a Woman offers its readers a long and unflinching look into the something we rarely get a chance to talk about: the truth about being a woman.

I am so tired of movies promising to show us 'the truth about women and friendship' (ahem, Bridesmaids) or worse, the ridiculously overdone exploration of 'what women want' (answer: every woman is different and most of us don't have a bloody clue). 90% of the women we see on our televisions are airbrushed versions of the same thing: skinny, attractive, often neurotic women. Even the movies which claim to explore the real nitty gritty of womanhood are nonsense, with Hollywood failing to find the balance between the saccharine (anything with Katherine Heigl in it) to the downright disturbing (Basic Instinct, anyone?). So it makes a nice change when someone comes along and actually tells it like it is.

What a relief to see a woman discussing *gasp* masturbation with the same frankness as discussing dishwasher tablets. How refreshing to hear someone talk about periods without the sole intention of selling tampons or complaining about cramps. Moran even goes as far as proclaiming that the bush is back, adding her belief that a woman's pubic hair should resemble: "A lovely furry moof that looks - when she sits, naked - as if she has a marmoset sitting in her lap." (If that doesn't have you laughing like a loon, nothing will.) But it's not just her frankness that makes Moran a modern woman's hero, it's that she really believes everything she's saying.

Feminism has gone in and out of fashion for years, which is obviously ridiculous and clearly shows that there has been a fundamental lack of understanding somewhere along the line. As Moran implores her readers, "What part of liberation for women is not for you?" With so few women identifying themselves as feminists, and so many children idolising the likes of Katie Price, it seems the future generations of women are doing themselves out of the equal rights that were fought for them. Women suffer so much pressure to look and be a certain way, that we forget our freedom. We forget that it is our choice whether or not to have children, that it is up to us to choose our ethics, that we have the free will to say, no, actually I won't be going for a Brazilian thank you very much. And though most of us know these things deep down, thank God we have someone as loud as Caitlin Moran there to remind us. It is so easy to assume that the pressure cooker of our lives is the way it has to be, but it's not. You can choose whatever you want, whether it's the size of your pants or whether or not to have an abortion.

Growing up poor as the eldest of eight children, Moran, grew up with unflinching exposure to the grittier sides of life. Does that make her more qualified to tell us how to live our lives? No, but it does give her a damn sight more perspective that most of us. From a tiny flat in Wolverhampton to a cosy North London house with her young family, Moran has seen an awful lot of the spectrum in her time.

So three cheers for Caitlin Moran! Long may her honesty, frankness and strident feminism continue to permeate our lives. And thank goodness we finally have a woman who is prepared to stand up and tell whole truth, big pants, spotty bums and all.
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.900999 2011-07-17T12:52:44-04:00 2011-09-16T05:12:01-04:00

Ashley Fryer http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ashley-fryer/ Buffy The Vampire Slayer nerd. As a teenager, I watched the show religiously. The series, which ran from 1997 to 2003, was undoubtedly a huge influence on my life. Not least because it featured (a frequently shirtless) peroxide blonde James Marsters. But in all seriousness, Buffy was a brilliant companion to the hellish joy of adolescence.

Going to school on the mouth of hell? Now there's a subtle metaphor for how tough high school can be. Experimenting with magic while at university? Another sneaky metaphor echoing Willow's developing sexuality. The key behind Joss Whedon's incredible storytelling was the way in which he manipulated the supernatural world to expose the real one. Losing your virginity only to have your boyfriend turn evil? Now there's one we haven't heard before. Teenage bullies getting possessed by hyenas and literally eating you alive? Oh sweetie, we've all been there.

The perky blonde heroine, the eponymous Buffy, goes from cheerleader to college drop-out to surrogate parent through seven, relentless seasons, evolving eventually into the whippet-thin heroine of the final season, faced with defeating the ultimate foe: Evil, itself.

Yes, Buffy was hot, skinny and (usually) well dressed, but she was so much more than that. Season 5 hit Buffy with the sudden death of her mother, while season 6 saw her battle with depression and engage in a damaging, masochistic (and obviously incredibly hot) affair with a former enemy. She wasn't always shiny, happy and blonde - she was dark, and unhappy and scared. And what teenager isn't, at some point or other?

And of course, it wasn't just Buffy herself who was a role model. The entire cast offered something unique to the millions of viewers that tuned in every week. Xander gave the show heart, while Giles brought in a father figure we all admired/fancied/looked up to. Willow's journey, from shy, mousy school girl, to all powerful Wiccan goddess was also incredibly rich. The show wasn't just about the trivialities of high school, or that weird eroticism we associate with vampires - it was about the people. From Xander's snappy one liners, to Willow's heartbreaking grief, to Buffy's persistent loneliness, the show offered an unending source of experiences for teenagers to relate to.

It was an all you can eat buffet for the myriad of emotions growing up, offering escapism and understanding. If nothing else in the world was right, you could still count on the gang in Sunnydale to be fighting the good fight.

Few cancelled shows retain a fan-base as loyal as that of the Buffyverse. Joss Whedon has legions of supporters, who've followed him from the blockbusters (he co-wrote Toy Story, dontchaknow?) to the critical failures (Joss fans still lament the cancelled-too-soon Dollhouse and Firefly).

Few shows truly stand the test of time, but it is my belief that Buffy is one of them. Buffy fans will always feel connected to one another, because there is something significant about having shared what we did. There's something unifying in identifying with one of the world's freak flag flyers (as my friend Betsy puts it), wherein you feel both empowered by Buffy's strength and empathetic to her struggle. She was a genuine role model.

I realise I sound incredibly nerdy as I say this, but Buffy was one of those rare shows that truly captures something. It's a show that promotes strength and integrity, but with a voice reminding you it's ok to be less than perfect.

Besides, who else can deliver one-liners while fighting the forces of evil in a halter top? Not many, I tell you. ]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.889502 2011-07-03T14:51:46-04:00 2011-09-02T05:12:01-04:00

Ashley Fryer http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ashley-fryer/
No, I am here to tell you why Doctor Who is one of the very best things on television. Yep, you heard me. I, a grown woman, confess that Doctor Who is my favourite thing about Saturday evenings. 6pm sees me clutching the sofa cushions in excitement, and alternately swooning over Matt Smith and Arthur Darvill (speaking of which, have you seen this?). I realise I am painting myself out to be a bit sad, so I will add that as soon as Doctor Who finishes I run straight out of the door to enjoy myself, like normal people do on a Saturday night. Sometimes, anyway.

Back to The Doctor. When the BBC resurrected Doctor Who back in 2005, I was only dimly aware of it. But as soon as David Tennant took over the role, it piqued my interest and I started watching. I was hooked after two episodes. I would like to say it was Tennant's red Converse that kept me coming back, but it wasn't. It was because Doctor Who has something really magical about it. As a family programme, it is not penned in by the cynicism you find in adult programmes. It isn't set within the confines of normal reality - it reaches far out to the stars and beyond a million possibilities. It is quite simply built on imagination, complete with the beauty and devastation that exist there.

It isn't a light and fluffy programme akin to something you might find on CBeebies. It is sometimes raw, sometimes angry, often impossibly complicated. It is real life, re-imagined in a world with few limits; a world where heroes can and do exist; a world with darkness but so much light; a world where bow ties are cool. It can take you on a roller coaster from the downright ridiculous to the impossibly sad in a single episode, without ever losing that inherent message of hope that Doctor Who seems to embody. It's not something that can be dismissed as being aimed at kids. It is so much more than that.

Whether it is about being brave, or being honest, or being fantastically eccentric for the sake of it, there are a hundred messages in Doctor Who that both children and adults can learn from. It's ok to be scared sometimes, or stupid, or plain ludicrous. Doctor Who is one of the best things on television, because it has something truly rare: it has heart.

And I think that's kind of extraordinary.

A programme that brings together children, their nostalgic parents and grandparents and normal (!) women like me? That's pretty rare. A programme that does it all with an eccentrically sexy male lead? Even better. But the true beauty of Doctor Who is that it's infectiously exciting. It's funny and brilliant and devastating all at once. So go ahead and dismiss it if you like, but if you dare to open your mind, you might just find a place for Doctor Who. Let your inner child out for a bit and get to know The Doctor. He's pretty cool, you know.
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.889475 2011-07-03T13:16:31-04:00 2011-09-02T05:12:01-04:00

Ashley Fryer http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ashley-fryer/ The gay one in Glee - positive role model or dangerous cliché?'

Let me begin by accepting that the post was published in March, and there have been significant developments in Glee's story arcs since then. Yet even in March, identifying Kurt Hummel as the 'gay one' was surprisingly reductive, given that Glee has always had sexually ambiguous characters. By the end of the second season, we had one closeted lesbian, one closeted, homophobic football player, one bisexual cheerleader and two happy young men in a relationship. 'The gay one' could now apply to a whole host of characters. Kurt is no longer the only gay in the village.

The Guardian's argument is that Kurt, who is flamboyant and feminine, embodies the common stereotype that gay men are all camp and effeminate. And seeing Kurt's antics week in week out is reinforcing this stereotype to all the impressionable young people that watch Glee. People will believe that only one type of homosexuality exists! There will be mass panic and total rejection of anything other than what we've been taught to expect: that gay men are all hilarious, pouting drama queens. And yes, I agree that having only one version of 'gayness' on television is in itself a failure to homosexuality. But isn't that a failure that is faced by every subsection of humanity? In the same way that blondes with big boobs are stupid and Irish people are drunks, surely we are all victim to stereotyping?

And just because something is a stereotype, doesn't mean it isn't a reality for a lot of people. Yes, Kurt is a camp gay man with a fondness for show tunes and Pippa Middleton, but is it damaging to have him on television? No, it's not. Because there are teenage boys out there who can relate to him. There are kids out there who are coming out to their friends and families because of Kurt. Kurt might be a camp stereotype, but he's real to a lot of people. He's young and gay, and brave enough to be out and proud. He's an inspiration.

He could have been just a token gay character - always a safe bet for a comedy - but instead, he developed. We followed him out of the closet and into the spotlight, watched him bullied and threatened, watched him pine for people he couldn't have, and then saw him find love with Blaine. He's not just some puppet that Ryan Murphy can use for all the gay jokes. He's got a journey. We're invested in him.

But I do understand the Guardian's point - Kurt on his own isn't enough. So it was brilliant when Murphy introduced the character of Blaine at the beginning of the second season. Blaine gave us a much calmer version of the young gay man. There was less squealing, less prancing and fewer questionable fashion bids with Blaine. A gay man, but not in the cookie cutter mould of the typical Hollywood gay. How did we react? Did we reject him on the grounds that he clearly wasn't gay enough? No, we didn't. We fell in love with him immediately, and started rooting for them to get together.

And then later in the season, lo and behold, it is revealed that Karofsky, the character who had bullied Kurt to the point of transferring, is a closeted gay man. Another brand new version of homosexuality! A jock! Who knew there was such a thing? It would be an insult to the intelligence of millions of we didn't point out that the Karofsky twist wasn't a little obvious. The subtext pointed to the fact that Karofsky's homophobic bullying might conceal something a little more complicated. And Karofsky's struggle to come to terms with his sexuality has been as important as Kurt's journey.

Karofsky, Blaine and Kurt represent three completely different visions of male homosexuality. Things weren't quite so developed back in March when the Guardian published its blog, but the arguments remain the same. Male homosexuality has a thorough representation on Glee now - a show which is doing more for its exposure of different sexualities than any other - and none of the depictions are damaging. On the contrary, they provide young people with a chance to experience and understand different sexualities. They offer people the chance to discuss their own feelings about sexual orientation - a chance to see gay relationships in the same way they view straight ones.

All this, and I haven't even mentioned Santana yet. Oh Santana, you beautiful creature. Her story has taken a completely different direction this last season, which has seen her confess her love for her best friend, Brittany. Brittany and Santana (nicknamed Brittana) have always had little innuendos and hints about their relationship, but this season turned a running joke into a full blown confrontation of Santana's sexuality. The scene in which she tells Brittany she loves her (nicknamed the 'hurt locker' by lesbians the world over) has to be one of this year's most emotive scenes.

So, while I accept that the Guardian's blog was published before some of the story lines evolved, I still dispute its central argument, that having a stereotypical gay character on television is damaging. At least there is a gay character at all! Homosexuality needs exposure if we are ever going to destroy homophobia. The camp stereotype is limiting yes, but dangerous? No.

Glee has gone all out to ensure that as many minorities as possible are represented. I admit that it is not a perfect show, but it is doing a lot for young people. It is incredibly popular, and if that popularity can be harnessed into doing some good for the LGBT community, I am all for it. ]]>