In the week leading up to Christmas, I had a lot of festive-type things on my to-do list. Purchasing gifts, finally putting up the tree, and preparing to go away to visit family. But that's not what I did.
The women's liberation movement is the one place that is ours, the one place where we can centre the interests of women, and we must be bold and unflinching as we challenge male entitlement to women's bodies. If men like our feminism and if it gives them erections, we're doing it wrong.
It is everyday terrorism against women, but it is not recognised as such because the targets are women, and the perpetrators are the very people who claim to love us. While many of us have been directly harmed by male violence, the threat alone is enough to keep women as a class in a state of fear, controlled, pliable. Yet when reporting on male violence, mainstream media neglects to call it what it is, with headlines often stating the sex of the victim while downplaying the sex of the perpetrator, if even mentioning him at all... I am tired of being polite. I am sick of trying to convince men of women's basic humanity. I am tired of asking men nicely to stop raping and killing us.
So what happens when a film series of this magnitude frames domestic abuse and male violence against women as sexy and desirable? What message does it send to women and girls, and also to men and boys? Who benefits from widespread acceptance of the belief women and girls secretly want and enjoy sexual violence?