I could reel off many statistics, but I'll just include one from the Office for National Statistics, at the current rate, it will be another 62 years before the work of women in the UK is valued at the same rate as men. Sixty-two years. The year 2078. Let that sink in. I'll be long gone, as will you, probably.
Tackling survivor stigma is a huge challenge, but if we face it together I believe it is a challenge we can overcome. In doing so, we would be transforming the lives of survivors and future generations afflicted by the scourge of sexual violence. That is too great a prize for us to ignore. I hope you will join me in working to end stigma for good.
Everyone should get good care as standard, everyone should be treated as a person, not like they are on a treadmill or production line. Whilst there are examples of excellent care and support, for others the system is still letting them down.
This time two years ago my sister was preparing to give birth to my youngest niece. I heralded this as a sign of hope. My sister suffered with PCO as well as a large fibroid that had to be removed. If she could get pregnant, why wouldn't I? My
Recently I was pleased to chair the third University Women in the Arts event, with Anne Edyvean, Head of BBC Writersroom.
Below are Anne's top tips f...
Having turned 32 recently, I suddenly feel like time is flashing by. My 30th birthday celebrations don't feel as though they were already two years ago and I nearly dropped my cuppa when I realised the other month that I started secondary school 20 years ago this year.
I don't think I was ever not basically a feminist. The femands (that was a genuine typo but I'm keeping it in) have never seemed unreasonable to me. I do think the extent to which I felt involved and the degree to which I appreciated the problem have both changed for the better this year, and these changes have much to do with twitter.
It takes some time to get ready for the day. The first thing I do is decide what I am going to wear. Every day I make myself beautiful. With carefully thought clothes, accessories, and matching shoes, not to mention hair and a bit of make-up. It is my way to fight possible depression and the somberness of the situation.
There is a small section of the community, such as those with body dysmorphia who either have poor self-esteem or see things in the mirror that just aren't there - and these people need to be protected.
Downstairs Mrs Flush prepared a breakfast of marmite and peanut butter on toast. Three minutes were spent staring into the fridge until she remembered she was looking for a plate. After removing her dressing gown and opening the window she settled down to read her latest copy of 'The Turbulent Times'.
My mother was 17 when she came to the UK from Pakistan. Like many young women, she dreamed of travelling and getting a first-rate education abroad in a safe and happy country. Her reality turned out to be very different. When she went shopping, shopkeepers often smiled at her with their "good old British charm", but then refused to accept payment directly from her. They kept a jar of water filled with dishwasher soap and asked her to drop money in there lest her brown skin rub off on them.
Things are still a work in progress, as women continue to come up against a variety of societal pressures throughout their lives. They face more complex consideration sets when debating whether they should or shouldn't strive for a promotion, consider a career break, be a certain body shape, maintain a specific work-life balance; the list goes on.
Today is the international day for the elimination of violence against women. A sad reminder of how common violence against women still is around the world and here in the UK.
As a marketing executive at a big data startup, my day often revolves around analysing and discovering hidden trends and patterns from our lead data, and providing guidance to my team on strategies to maximise our conversion rates.
The words ring in your ears. Everything around you slows down and blurs. The words feel heavy on your skin as they sink in. You can feel your heart beating fast and loud and your chest begins to hurt. Your eyes swim with tears. You feel a slow numbness creep up your body from your toes, until you can't feel yourself anymore. You're hot and numb.
My partner and I are lucky. We have both worked for many years in a succession of well-paid roles and managed to live well. When we were told that the only option was IVF, and that we would have to pay, I was in the fortunate position that I had just received a bonus from work and my partner had a little saved.