The Blog

How To Bake A Feminist Cake

I'm chuckling to myself as I make a cake.

It's International Women's Day this week.

But more importantly, it's also my birthday.

So in many ways, it's International Me Week.

That's what I think anyway.

So I'm making myself an International Me cake. Because fuck the patriarchy right?

While I bake, I am chatting via Facetime to a friend. There's wine. It's nice.

My friend has suggested that cake baking is not a suitable feminist activity. It's twee and quaint, synonymous with 1950's housewives and husband pleasing.

I admit that somewhere deep in my soul I feel bizarrely inadequate that I don't sport a slick victory roll and floral pinny. Instead I am baking in an attractive tracksuit trouser.

Ah yes. The shoulds and oughts. The buts and howevers.

Girls should be this. Boys should be that.

Going out for a night? Wear a nice dress!

Sit nicely. Don't be bossy. Complaining? Nagging more like! Be a mother. Be a princess. Have it all.

Those little unnoticed invisible rules. You haven't noticed them because they are baked into the dough of our everyday lives. Just another bitter flavour.

You haven't clocked them if you are someone who thinks that feminism is a bit of a grubby word. If you're one of those people who counters the argument of women's equality with some confusing argument or another fact about men or people in third world countries.

Shut up please.

Your statistic or point of view is so valid and worth while and I believe you. But it doesn't mitigate or cancel out mine.

My guinea pig had conjunctivitis when I was 11, it doesn't change the fact that women need equal rights to men.

Brilliant and courageous Emma Watson came in for some stick this week because she slipped out a bit of under boob in a classy Vanity Fair picture.

Feminists shouldn't do that. Should they?

Everyone knows boobs are for men. EVERYONE.

If your nips are poking out through a giant crochet bollero, you MUST be trying to get the attention of a chap. No?

What a terrible feminist. Nothing Hermione has ever said or thought has any value ever now. So there.

Should, ought, shouldn't, oughtn't.

My friend and I are silent for a time. She's checking a statistic. I'm wrestling with an oven glove.

We talk a bit more about depressing statistics. Those stats that come up in conversations that we are all a little tired of having...

In 2012, women in full time employment earned an average of 14.9% less than men in full time employment.

One in three women across the world experience violence.

Only 17% of government ministers globally are women.

Clunky, boring facts.

But facts, none the less.

And then we talk about something else. Our other friend who makes bad life choices. American politics. Shoes.

We laugh a bit.

And then we say goodbye.

And I pop my International Me cake into a tin.

The cake I made while I shouted about feminism and drank an unnamed red wine.

Happy birthday to me.

And happy International Women's Day to you.

(International Men's Day is in November. Don't worry.)

HuffPost UK is running a month-long project in March called All Women Everywhere, providing a platform to reflect the diverse mix of female experience and voices in Britain today

Through blogs, features and video, we'll be exploring the issues facing women specific to their age, ethnicity, social status, sexuality and gender identity. If you'd like to blog on our platform around these topics, email