You may be aware of my views on striking. I am a big believer in people trying their best to do their jobs as well as they can, and I'm a big believer in management protecting and guiding their employees to do their jobs as well as they can. When management falls short of the mark, you cannot solve it by having the people under them work harder; the guys on top have to do their share. If management will not do its share, and will not amend or improve things, then lower level employees have a duty to remind management that they have a job to do, and this may well involve striking.
I have said before that I don't believe striking is lazy or antagonistic - in a unionised workforce there are checks and balances in place to make sure people can't just storm off to the pub at the drop of a hat. Does it inconvenience society? Yes, and it should - it's a reminder that these people are doing jobs that matter and without them doing these jobs, our immediate world would not be a better place. Does it affect productivity? Yes - but not as much as poor management, low morale or a high turnover of staff who cannot stomach inadequate working conditions.
I could well be wrong, but I do believe that our current government has an agenda to attack the teaching profession, of which I am a member. Why? There are many possible reasons, depending on the level of your cynicism and whether or not you are given to belief in conspiracy theories. Judging by the way they similarly go after the NHS, my own best guess is that they want to dismantle and privatise as much of the education system as possible - in short, they're after ways to make money, which would seem a depressingly common ailment in those who wield power.
Striking is tricky as a teacher. You don't want to f**k over the kids, especially those who are taking important exams. You don't want to cause bad feeling among parents by leaving them at a loose end for childcare. You don't want to disrupt the work ethic you try so hard to instil in every class you take. And there's also the fact that, no matter how much we attempt to justify ourselves, people vilify us, waving our 'long holidays' and 'short hours' in our faces. I won't lie - it can be pretty depressing to have such accusations waved at you when you know you have done your damnedest to secure some kind of progress, some kind of success, some kind of future for the children of the people who actively criticse your efforts.
And yet, I can't help but feel sometimes: what kind of teacher am I if I don't show children what it means to have a backbone, to work hard and demand respect for it, and to try to take an active role in political decisions that affect you in a very real way?
I mention all this because today the National Union of Teachers sent back the results of the executive vote on strike action - 20 for, 22 against. There was ambiguity in the vote however - confusion over favoured dates for possible strike action seems to have muddled the results as sent back to us and there is talk of it possibly being recast. The thing I find hard to stomach is the almost literal divide this shows in an institution that is supposed to foster unity.
No one in the union (nor probably in the whole teaching profession) denies things have got worse and seem to be set to get worse still with Gove in charge, and yet it seems many of us are paralysed when it comes to taking action. Are they scared of failing the kids? Of losing a day's pay? Of incurring the wrath of the Daily Mail? I understand the trepidation... but when they vote to not strike, they aren't just saying they can stomach what's happening - they're saying we all can. That we all should put up and shut up. That striking is pointless and we are helpless and we might as well send Gove a card saying 'Please be nice to us' and see what happens.
I'm not afraid of hard work. I'm not afraid of people not agreeing with me. But if we don't stand up for ourselves and demand respect I think we generally deserve, I am afraid we're all done for.
Wednesday 30 January 2013
Sunday 27 January 2013
Posi-rant #1: Why Who Framed Roger Rabbit is the Best Film Ever
Some days, I grow weary. Being Right All The Time is a heavy burden for one girl to carry, and some days my ire just fizzles out before I can get to a keyboard and turn it into Rantingness. And so this got me thinking: do rants have to always be negative? Must I spend all my lifeforce in criticism only? Am I doomed to damn others and never be delighted by them?
I say no, and it's my blog, so there.
Therefore, without further ado, welcome to my first ever 'Posi-Rant'™:
SIXTEEN REASONS WHY 'WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT*' IS THE BEST FILM EVER MADE!
(* No, this is not a grammatical error - the film title, though technically a question, contains no question mark as this is considered unlucky in Hollywood...)
1. It has a throroughly awesome setting - film noir era Hollywood mixed with Golden Age animation. Look at the outfits! Look at the characters! Look at Bob Hoskins swilling whiskey at his desk and passing out like a Raymond Chandler reject! Fans of femmes fatales and Philip-Marlowe-style investigators can eat their hearts out, and anyone else (though seriously, who doesn't like film noir? Is it you? What the hell? You are SO missing out...) can revel in seeing their favourite cartoon characters tripping through the age of ACME. Truly there can be no finer era in which to park any set of shenanigans!
2. Let's not forget this film was absolutely groundbreaking at the time - and still looks brilliant even now, nearly twenty five years later. I remember seeing it as a kid and being amazed - it was literally like you were watching some kind of amazing, impossible magic. Animation and live action had been combined before, and really well too (go look at Gene Kelly dancing with Jerry Mouse in 'Anchors Aweigh' from 1944... or with Stewie Griffin from Family Guy if that's more your bag), but this was something else. Combinations of puppetry and motion controlled machines meant they could interact with props in a very organic way, and with some great character design, painstakingly careful animation and a brilliant standard of acting from the humans of the cast, this film looked - and still looks - not flawless, but deeply believable and engaging.
3. Okay, okay, we might as well get it out of the way:
Yes - it's Jessica Rabbit. The woman none of us will ever live up to.
Now, if you were shallow of soul and mean of spirit, you might be tempted to hate Jessica Rabbit. You might be jealous of her frankly terrifying proportions and her sultry singing voice, or you might despise her as a fantasy construct whose overtly sexual nature and clear objectification are Not Good For Feminism.
But look a little further. Jessica Rabbit has depth. She married her husband not for looks or money or, like, being the same species as her, but because he makes her laugh. She knows what's truly important in a partner. She's no fool either - she's aware of the plot before Valiant is, and takes her own steps to protect Roger and help solve the case. She earns her own money and she looks damn good doing it. So good, in fact, that the information superhighway is littered with her image redone in fan art and fancy dress forms. Some woman even spent several thousand dollars in plastic surgery to look like her. See?
So that was money well spent.
Don't hate on Jess R. Remember, as she so memorably put it - she's not bad, she's just drawn that way.
4. And while we're on the subject of Jessica Rabbit, let us not forget Kathleen Turner, who is awesome and provided Mrs Rabbit's huskily-timbred voice uncredited.
5. But Mrs Rabbit was not my favourite of the film's 'Toons' as a child. Nor indeed was her titular husband, who was sympathetic but even to a kid, kind of annoying. No - in my heart it was a toss-up between two others, and though he didn't come first, Baby Herman was definitely my second favourite. Why? Um, duh - he is a baby with the gravelly voice of a chain-smoking gangster. The animation producer loved Baby Herman so much he insisted on animating all his scenes himself. Baby H chomps cigars and bets on horses. He throws tantrums, not because he's a baby, but because he's a goddamn bona fide star. Look at his acting performance in the first few minutes - he has the strength and grace of a prima ballerina as he does his little death trip round that kitchen. No wonder he gets frustrated with Roger's mistakes - Baby Herman is a consummate professional. Who sometimes looks up ladies' skirts.
6. And who, you might ask, could supplant the awesome Baby Herman from the number one spot in my heart? Why, it's this guy:
That's right - Benny the Cab. His thick Brooklyn accent and penchant for slapstick are obviously two things he has in common with Baby Herman, but he's so much more than that. Under his rough edges, Benny's a thoroughly decent rogue of a chap and a handy accomplice who plays a major part in saving Roger and Eddie on more than one occasion. He's wily enough to play crashed (that's playing dead for cars, see) when the others are in danger so he can follow them safely, fast enough to get them away from the Weasel gang and loyal enough to come back when his help is needed.
Want to know what clinches it? When he enters the warehouse at the end, stepping daintily on tip-toe tyres over the poison pools on the floor, he is obviously shocked by the carnage - his non-sweary exclamation is one of my favourite lines in the whole movie.
7. And is this simply a light-hearted children's film? No indeed - it manages to include a critique of evil industry by basing itself around true events: the corrupt political and business interests who conspired to undermine the LA public transport system in the 40s and profiteer from the new freeway and its associated infrastructure like gas stations and garages. That's a history lesson and some social commentary as well as all the entertainment you can eat. You won't find a gritty Chinatown-style corruption underpinning the plot of friggin' Space Jam.
8. You may not notice initially, but you're seeing something unique when you watch Who Framed Roger Rabbit - a coming-together of characters 'owned' by no less than seven different studios. With rights to likenesses so closely guarded, this just does not usually happen... but this time, it did. Main rivals Disney and Warner had some wrangles - their mainstays (respectively Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck, and Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck) had to share equal screentime together, for example - and rights to some of the characters wanted for the film (such as Tom and Jerry or Popeye) couldn't be obtained in time. Nevertheless, it really is essentially a great cross-section - and celebration - of known and loved animated characters, all together for the first time on screen. A stupendous homage to the Golden Age of animation.
9. And since Who Framed Roger Rabbit involves the very greatest Greats of animation, let us not forget the behind-the-scenes Greats who actually voiced them for the picture. All the big names are there, including ones you might actually have heard of: Mel Blanc, Lou Hirsch, Nancy 'Voice of Bart Simpson' Cartwright. My favourite, though, is April Winchell (and not just because she does the cuter half of the voice of Baby Herman). That's her in the picture. Just look at her... isn't she awesome? If the picture doesn't convince you, go to her absolutely genius site Regretsy and then try to tell me you wouldn't like to go for a night of ruinous drinking with that woman.
10. Like all great movies for kids (think of The Simpsons, or anything by Pixar), it has something for the adults too. Different levels of humour abound, from the international, intergenerational appeal of Someone Falling Down (in the biz they call it slapstick), to more risqué moments like Jessica Rabbit's 'booby trap' or Eddie Valiant's failure to find a rhyme for 'luck' in his song-and-dance routine - which reminds me...
11. Eddie Valiant's song-and-dance routine is fabulous. He can fairly move for a fat alcoholic - looks like his childhood in the circus definitely paid off.
12. Also awesome? Various expressions on his face throughout, such as this:
The best one, however, is one of which I sadly couldn't find a screen cap. Just take a look at his reaction when he first drives into Toon Town and they all start singing about smiling or whatever. It's brilliant.
13. And from the sublime to the ridiculous to the genuinely terrifying. Do you remember the scene... where the shoe got DIPPED?
I can honestly say it was one of the most horrifying things I had ever seen in a kids' film, and it's still hard to watch. A quick googleskim reveals numerous internet forums recounting tales of childhood trauma related to that scene. I mean, shit - even Bambi's mother gets shot off screen. This was right in your face! Squeaking like a helpless puppy, writhing in Judge Doom's unyielding glove, that blameless, unfortunate little shoe got DISSOLVED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE. It is a scene of torture the likes of which the Saw franchise can only dream. It is a level of horror to which John Carpenter and Dario Argento have never come close. It is gruesomely harrowing - and right there in the middle of a film for seven year olds! That, in my opinion, RULES.
14. And surely the villain who unflinchingly perpetrates this act of violence must be one of the premier villains in all cinematic history. Corrupt figure of authority? Check. Murderous and mental? Check. Agenda of evil masquerading as justice? Check. Gang of thugs? Almost indestructible? CHAINSAW ARM HE WILL USE TO TRY AND KILL YOU??!! Yes, all of these. He combines two of the ultimate antagonists of the silver screen: the absolute batshit-red-eyed-screaming-psychopath and the chillingly clinical Nazi doctor. If that doesn't scare the shit out of you, you may need to visit a proctologist.
15. But don't be too scraed by old Doom - he does meet his end eventually, and you know a film is good when the demise of the villain contains a Wizard of Oz 'I'm meellllllllting!' tribute.
16. The DUCK-OFF. Otherwise known as this scene:
I mean, quite apart from the fact that they're ducks playing Liszt live in a nightspot, you'd go to that club anyway just to see how many pianos they got through each night.
I would also like it noted that Daffy is clearly the superior pianist and Donald is a jealous bitch who literally plays the piano with his arse. #totallynotbiasedagainstdisney
One more thing: guess what? It's been in the works for aaaaaaaaages with varying degrees of likelihood in the intervening years... but there's a sequel in the works. Excited? I might be...
I say no, and it's my blog, so there.
Therefore, without further ado, welcome to my first ever 'Posi-Rant'™:
SIXTEEN REASONS WHY 'WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT*' IS THE BEST FILM EVER MADE!
(* No, this is not a grammatical error - the film title, though technically a question, contains no question mark as this is considered unlucky in Hollywood...)
1. It has a throroughly awesome setting - film noir era Hollywood mixed with Golden Age animation. Look at the outfits! Look at the characters! Look at Bob Hoskins swilling whiskey at his desk and passing out like a Raymond Chandler reject! Fans of femmes fatales and Philip-Marlowe-style investigators can eat their hearts out, and anyone else (though seriously, who doesn't like film noir? Is it you? What the hell? You are SO missing out...) can revel in seeing their favourite cartoon characters tripping through the age of ACME. Truly there can be no finer era in which to park any set of shenanigans!
2. Let's not forget this film was absolutely groundbreaking at the time - and still looks brilliant even now, nearly twenty five years later. I remember seeing it as a kid and being amazed - it was literally like you were watching some kind of amazing, impossible magic. Animation and live action had been combined before, and really well too (go look at Gene Kelly dancing with Jerry Mouse in 'Anchors Aweigh' from 1944... or with Stewie Griffin from Family Guy if that's more your bag), but this was something else. Combinations of puppetry and motion controlled machines meant they could interact with props in a very organic way, and with some great character design, painstakingly careful animation and a brilliant standard of acting from the humans of the cast, this film looked - and still looks - not flawless, but deeply believable and engaging.
3. Okay, okay, we might as well get it out of the way:
Yes - it's Jessica Rabbit. The woman none of us will ever live up to.
Now, if you were shallow of soul and mean of spirit, you might be tempted to hate Jessica Rabbit. You might be jealous of her frankly terrifying proportions and her sultry singing voice, or you might despise her as a fantasy construct whose overtly sexual nature and clear objectification are Not Good For Feminism.
But look a little further. Jessica Rabbit has depth. She married her husband not for looks or money or, like, being the same species as her, but because he makes her laugh. She knows what's truly important in a partner. She's no fool either - she's aware of the plot before Valiant is, and takes her own steps to protect Roger and help solve the case. She earns her own money and she looks damn good doing it. So good, in fact, that the information superhighway is littered with her image redone in fan art and fancy dress forms. Some woman even spent several thousand dollars in plastic surgery to look like her. See?
So that was money well spent.
Don't hate on Jess R. Remember, as she so memorably put it - she's not bad, she's just drawn that way.
4. And while we're on the subject of Jessica Rabbit, let us not forget Kathleen Turner, who is awesome and provided Mrs Rabbit's huskily-timbred voice uncredited.
5. But Mrs Rabbit was not my favourite of the film's 'Toons' as a child. Nor indeed was her titular husband, who was sympathetic but even to a kid, kind of annoying. No - in my heart it was a toss-up between two others, and though he didn't come first, Baby Herman was definitely my second favourite. Why? Um, duh - he is a baby with the gravelly voice of a chain-smoking gangster. The animation producer loved Baby Herman so much he insisted on animating all his scenes himself. Baby H chomps cigars and bets on horses. He throws tantrums, not because he's a baby, but because he's a goddamn bona fide star. Look at his acting performance in the first few minutes - he has the strength and grace of a prima ballerina as he does his little death trip round that kitchen. No wonder he gets frustrated with Roger's mistakes - Baby Herman is a consummate professional. Who sometimes looks up ladies' skirts.
6. And who, you might ask, could supplant the awesome Baby Herman from the number one spot in my heart? Why, it's this guy:
Want to know what clinches it? When he enters the warehouse at the end, stepping daintily on tip-toe tyres over the poison pools on the floor, he is obviously shocked by the carnage - his non-sweary exclamation is one of my favourite lines in the whole movie.
7. And is this simply a light-hearted children's film? No indeed - it manages to include a critique of evil industry by basing itself around true events: the corrupt political and business interests who conspired to undermine the LA public transport system in the 40s and profiteer from the new freeway and its associated infrastructure like gas stations and garages. That's a history lesson and some social commentary as well as all the entertainment you can eat. You won't find a gritty Chinatown-style corruption underpinning the plot of friggin' Space Jam.
8. You may not notice initially, but you're seeing something unique when you watch Who Framed Roger Rabbit - a coming-together of characters 'owned' by no less than seven different studios. With rights to likenesses so closely guarded, this just does not usually happen... but this time, it did. Main rivals Disney and Warner had some wrangles - their mainstays (respectively Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck, and Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck) had to share equal screentime together, for example - and rights to some of the characters wanted for the film (such as Tom and Jerry or Popeye) couldn't be obtained in time. Nevertheless, it really is essentially a great cross-section - and celebration - of known and loved animated characters, all together for the first time on screen. A stupendous homage to the Golden Age of animation.
10. Like all great movies for kids (think of The Simpsons, or anything by Pixar), it has something for the adults too. Different levels of humour abound, from the international, intergenerational appeal of Someone Falling Down (in the biz they call it slapstick), to more risqué moments like Jessica Rabbit's 'booby trap' or Eddie Valiant's failure to find a rhyme for 'luck' in his song-and-dance routine - which reminds me...
11. Eddie Valiant's song-and-dance routine is fabulous. He can fairly move for a fat alcoholic - looks like his childhood in the circus definitely paid off.
12. Also awesome? Various expressions on his face throughout, such as this:
13. And from the sublime to the ridiculous to the genuinely terrifying. Do you remember the scene... where the shoe got DIPPED?
I can honestly say it was one of the most horrifying things I had ever seen in a kids' film, and it's still hard to watch. A quick googleskim reveals numerous internet forums recounting tales of childhood trauma related to that scene. I mean, shit - even Bambi's mother gets shot off screen. This was right in your face! Squeaking like a helpless puppy, writhing in Judge Doom's unyielding glove, that blameless, unfortunate little shoe got DISSOLVED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE. It is a scene of torture the likes of which the Saw franchise can only dream. It is a level of horror to which John Carpenter and Dario Argento have never come close. It is gruesomely harrowing - and right there in the middle of a film for seven year olds! That, in my opinion, RULES.
14. And surely the villain who unflinchingly perpetrates this act of violence must be one of the premier villains in all cinematic history. Corrupt figure of authority? Check. Murderous and mental? Check. Agenda of evil masquerading as justice? Check. Gang of thugs? Almost indestructible? CHAINSAW ARM HE WILL USE TO TRY AND KILL YOU??!! Yes, all of these. He combines two of the ultimate antagonists of the silver screen: the absolute batshit-red-eyed-screaming-psychopath and the chillingly clinical Nazi doctor. If that doesn't scare the shit out of you, you may need to visit a proctologist.
15. But don't be too scraed by old Doom - he does meet his end eventually, and you know a film is good when the demise of the villain contains a Wizard of Oz 'I'm meellllllllting!' tribute.
16. The DUCK-OFF. Otherwise known as this scene:
I mean, quite apart from the fact that they're ducks playing Liszt live in a nightspot, you'd go to that club anyway just to see how many pianos they got through each night.
I would also like it noted that Daffy is clearly the superior pianist and Donald is a jealous bitch who literally plays the piano with his arse. #totallynotbiasedagainstdisney
One more thing: guess what? It's been in the works for aaaaaaaaages with varying degrees of likelihood in the intervening years... but there's a sequel in the works. Excited? I might be...
Wednesday 16 January 2013
"It's Called a 'Bat', Love. You Hit the Ball with it, Yeah?"
You may have surmised that I don't find it difficult to find topics on which to vent my vicious little spleen, so why we listen to Radio 4's 'Today' programme en route to work is beyond me, but we do - and today it gave me ample fodder. The story I want to focus on, though, is this.
Now, in the interests of fair disclosure, I must out myself here: I hate cricket. I'm no fan of sports in general, but cricket, that last bastion of the Bwitish Empire, has always seemed especially pointless. I admit I'm biased - I once spent three years of my life with a guy who insisted on having Radio Five Live on all night so he could 'listen' to the live cricket coverage in his sleep. Once, he tried to take me to a cricket match - two minutes into the journey I made him pull over, got out of the car and walked home. Seriously.
However, I appreciate not everyone feels this way, and so I did not receive this morning's news that England wicket keeper Sarah Taylor was under consideration by Sussex County Cricket Club to be selected as the first woman to play alongside men in professional cricket with any other emotion than a mild sensation of 'Well good for her'.
What I found hard to fathom, though, was the commentary which followed.
As with many such features, two speakers were on air to give point and counterpoint - Mark Alleyne, Taylor's current coach at Marylebone Cricket Club, and Baroness Rachael Heyhoe Flint, described by Wikipedia as "probably the best known female cricketer in England".
Alleyne, who was addressed first, described the prospect of Taylor's possible selection as "exciting" and noted that, while the pace of the game would be quicker and the ball slightly bigger, no other major differences existed for a woman playing alongside and in opposition to teams of males.
Flint, in contrast, has 'concerns'. She used to play cricket with men non-professionally, you see, so she knows the possible issues Taylor and other women may face. According to her, those issues are:
1. Taylor may not have gone far enough in Women's cricket, and might therefore cause "dilemmas in the minds of selectors in Sussex, that they would be selecting a girl in preference to a young lad who's come through the academy system".
2. Sarah may cause "problems" for the men on the other team, because if she was batting and they were bowling, she might get hurt.
Let me just reiterate these points. The problems that may caused by a sportswoman being selected to play on a second-level sports team with some sportsmen are that the people who pick sports players for a living might pick her wrong, and/or that she might receive a sporting injury in the course of playing her sport.
Sorry, but I was utterly fucking gobsmacked by this.
I know next to nothing about Sarah Taylor, but here are some assumptions I feel fairly confident in making:
- That she's 'quite good' at cricket.
- That team selectors wouldn't consider her for selection unless they were reasonably sure she wouldn't make a dithering ladymess of it.
- That, having presumably played cricket for a number of years, she may be familiar with possibility of wear'n'tear or even, God forbid, outright injury sustained in the course of playing a competitive sport with a very hard ball.
- That people who play sport competitively like to win, and are not more likely to throw the ball, like, rilly hard at an oponent based on their gender.
Judging from his tone as he responded to her comments, Alleyne was fairly underwhelmed by Heyhoe Flint's viewpoint. While acknowledging that physical intimidation of the batsman plays a role in the game of cricket, he didn't seem to see gender as an issue in this instance. "I wouldn't see it any differently. I would see a batsman down the other end who is looking to take runs off me, and my job is to get them out, primarily, and that's what cricket is about," he pointed out calmly, sort of like a man who knows how sport works.
I am a firm believer in getting the best person for the job, regardless of who or what they are. If there was some grounded suggestion that positive discrimination was truly at work here and Taylor was a player being selected for having boobs not batsmanship, I wouldn't be complaining about this commentary. But Heyhoe Flint's stance did not seem to be based on anything concrete. Certainly she has experience of what it is like to be a female cricketer, and perhaps she has encountered nastiness along the way that fills her with genuine trepidation on Taylor's behalf.
But the division of her concern between the opposing team (who could ostensibly become confused about the object of the game when confronted by an ickle woman with a bat in her hand) and Taylor's physical wellbeing doesn't ring true. These felt less like genuine concerns and more like... someone grasping desperately to bring up needless obstacles. Which is great, because y'know, women have it so easy nowadays that when one makes a breakthrough and, seemingly on merit, becomes the first woman to do X, it's really helpful for other women to be wilfully obstructive and undermine the validity of that achievement.
Why would Rachael Heyhoe Flint baulk from giving her unreserved support to someone who is basically carrying on the legacy of accomplishments she herself won in the 60s and 70s? I have no idea. Please do take a minute to try and imagine how far my eyes goggled, though, when RHF summed up her time on air by stating: "I think, stick to the practising, get as far as she can, but don't alienate the opposition by appearing in matches that are crucial."
Yeah, you heard me - don't 'alienate' the opposition by having the temerity to not be a male cricketer, but some other kind of cricketer, when it's really important. Or, if I may paraphrase again, "You're doing really well at the cricket, sweetheart - almost as good as a man! Too bad you're such an incredibly weird and alien lifeform that you can't play in 'proper' games against truly skilled players, because they'd be all in a tizzy trying to figure out how to actually play against you! Never mind - you can still play, just not in any games of perceived significance. Those are for the Men. You know - the REAL players."
Players, umpires and spectators alike have been killed by cricket balls. Many more people than would freely admit it harbour a deeply held belief that women are less skilled, less strong and less good than men at all sorts of things - not just cricket. In some cases they are right - I personally scream if a ball is thrown near me and have the hand-eye co-ordination of a hot plateful of delicious tagliatelle. But there exist those women who are every bit as capable of playing sports proficiently - maybe even excellently - against men as I am of enjoying a hot plateful of delicious tagliatelle. Assuming Taylor is good enough for the team - and as I mentioned before, I am assuming that, based on the opinions seemingly held of her abilities by people who play, coach and organise cricket for a living - her gender shouldn't matter other than as a small but positive watershed for equality of opportunity. She should be congratulated, not patronised - and maybe the "best known female cricketer in England" needs to reconsider her disappointingly low opinions of her fellow sportswomen - and men.
However, I appreciate not everyone feels this way, and so I did not receive this morning's news that England wicket keeper Sarah Taylor was under consideration by Sussex County Cricket Club to be selected as the first woman to play alongside men in professional cricket with any other emotion than a mild sensation of 'Well good for her'.
What I found hard to fathom, though, was the commentary which followed.
As with many such features, two speakers were on air to give point and counterpoint - Mark Alleyne, Taylor's current coach at Marylebone Cricket Club, and Baroness Rachael Heyhoe Flint, described by Wikipedia as "probably the best known female cricketer in England".
Alleyne, who was addressed first, described the prospect of Taylor's possible selection as "exciting" and noted that, while the pace of the game would be quicker and the ball slightly bigger, no other major differences existed for a woman playing alongside and in opposition to teams of males.
Flint, in contrast, has 'concerns'. She used to play cricket with men non-professionally, you see, so she knows the possible issues Taylor and other women may face. According to her, those issues are:
1. Taylor may not have gone far enough in Women's cricket, and might therefore cause "dilemmas in the minds of selectors in Sussex, that they would be selecting a girl in preference to a young lad who's come through the academy system".
2. Sarah may cause "problems" for the men on the other team, because if she was batting and they were bowling, she might get hurt.
Let me just reiterate these points. The problems that may caused by a sportswoman being selected to play on a second-level sports team with some sportsmen are that the people who pick sports players for a living might pick her wrong, and/or that she might receive a sporting injury in the course of playing her sport.
Sorry, but I was utterly fucking gobsmacked by this.
I know next to nothing about Sarah Taylor, but here are some assumptions I feel fairly confident in making:
- That she's 'quite good' at cricket.
- That team selectors wouldn't consider her for selection unless they were reasonably sure she wouldn't make a dithering ladymess of it.
- That, having presumably played cricket for a number of years, she may be familiar with possibility of wear'n'tear or even, God forbid, outright injury sustained in the course of playing a competitive sport with a very hard ball.
- That people who play sport competitively like to win, and are not more likely to throw the ball, like, rilly hard at an oponent based on their gender.
Judging from his tone as he responded to her comments, Alleyne was fairly underwhelmed by Heyhoe Flint's viewpoint. While acknowledging that physical intimidation of the batsman plays a role in the game of cricket, he didn't seem to see gender as an issue in this instance. "I wouldn't see it any differently. I would see a batsman down the other end who is looking to take runs off me, and my job is to get them out, primarily, and that's what cricket is about," he pointed out calmly, sort of like a man who knows how sport works.
I am a firm believer in getting the best person for the job, regardless of who or what they are. If there was some grounded suggestion that positive discrimination was truly at work here and Taylor was a player being selected for having boobs not batsmanship, I wouldn't be complaining about this commentary. But Heyhoe Flint's stance did not seem to be based on anything concrete. Certainly she has experience of what it is like to be a female cricketer, and perhaps she has encountered nastiness along the way that fills her with genuine trepidation on Taylor's behalf.
But the division of her concern between the opposing team (who could ostensibly become confused about the object of the game when confronted by an ickle woman with a bat in her hand) and Taylor's physical wellbeing doesn't ring true. These felt less like genuine concerns and more like... someone grasping desperately to bring up needless obstacles. Which is great, because y'know, women have it so easy nowadays that when one makes a breakthrough and, seemingly on merit, becomes the first woman to do X, it's really helpful for other women to be wilfully obstructive and undermine the validity of that achievement.
Why would Rachael Heyhoe Flint baulk from giving her unreserved support to someone who is basically carrying on the legacy of accomplishments she herself won in the 60s and 70s? I have no idea. Please do take a minute to try and imagine how far my eyes goggled, though, when RHF summed up her time on air by stating: "I think, stick to the practising, get as far as she can, but don't alienate the opposition by appearing in matches that are crucial."
Yeah, you heard me - don't 'alienate' the opposition by having the temerity to not be a male cricketer, but some other kind of cricketer, when it's really important. Or, if I may paraphrase again, "You're doing really well at the cricket, sweetheart - almost as good as a man! Too bad you're such an incredibly weird and alien lifeform that you can't play in 'proper' games against truly skilled players, because they'd be all in a tizzy trying to figure out how to actually play against you! Never mind - you can still play, just not in any games of perceived significance. Those are for the Men. You know - the REAL players."
Players, umpires and spectators alike have been killed by cricket balls. Many more people than would freely admit it harbour a deeply held belief that women are less skilled, less strong and less good than men at all sorts of things - not just cricket. In some cases they are right - I personally scream if a ball is thrown near me and have the hand-eye co-ordination of a hot plateful of delicious tagliatelle. But there exist those women who are every bit as capable of playing sports proficiently - maybe even excellently - against men as I am of enjoying a hot plateful of delicious tagliatelle. Assuming Taylor is good enough for the team - and as I mentioned before, I am assuming that, based on the opinions seemingly held of her abilities by people who play, coach and organise cricket for a living - her gender shouldn't matter other than as a small but positive watershed for equality of opportunity. She should be congratulated, not patronised - and maybe the "best known female cricketer in England" needs to reconsider her disappointingly low opinions of her fellow sportswomen - and men.
Tuesday 15 January 2013
Obvs, srsly...
I don't just rant, you know. Sometimes I even put my money, or my ability to write emails, where my mouth is.
Often, I do this through 38Degrees, a social activism site which endeavours to bring people together in a way that inundates the inboxes of out-of-touch politicians, tax-dodging CEOs and other such savoury characters with hundreds of angry emails from concerned citizens. S'good fun.
I just sent an email as requested, demanding the issue of tax breaks for huge privatised healthcare companies be addressed, and while the site issues you with a template email outlining the issue in case you're busy or lazy or functionally illiterate, I like to add a little personalisation where I can. Now, I don't know if it's my mood today, or the dark evenings or whatever, but I feel very tired and just a smidge grumpy (I know right?! Grumpy! ME!) and instead of writing anything clever or impassioned, I had to just boil it down to basics.
Here's what I understand by the term 'Basics' in this particular instance:
1. People do not choose to get sick. Most peoples' illnesses are not their own fault. Sick people deserve healthcare, and since illness is not a choice or a desirable commodity, it isn't fair to make people pay to get rid of it.
2. Paying tax is a civic duty. Everyone does it in some way. People who earn less money have less to spare, so should pay less tax. People who earn more money have more to spare, and should pay more tax.
Stop me if I'm blowing your mind or anything... but don't these statements just seem... like, sensible to you? Within the realms of logic and reason and accumulated experience of what is good and bad for humans and so on? As in, the sort of things that are so very brain-haemorrhagingly obvious that one might be forgiven for thinking we didn't need to discuss them even?!
Seriously though, tell me - every time I hear the government's next big idea I feel like Will Ferrell at the end of Zoolander...
I just sent an email as requested, demanding the issue of tax breaks for huge privatised healthcare companies be addressed, and while the site issues you with a template email outlining the issue in case you're busy or lazy or functionally illiterate, I like to add a little personalisation where I can. Now, I don't know if it's my mood today, or the dark evenings or whatever, but I feel very tired and just a smidge grumpy (I know right?! Grumpy! ME!) and instead of writing anything clever or impassioned, I had to just boil it down to basics.
Here's what I understand by the term 'Basics' in this particular instance:
1. People do not choose to get sick. Most peoples' illnesses are not their own fault. Sick people deserve healthcare, and since illness is not a choice or a desirable commodity, it isn't fair to make people pay to get rid of it.
2. Paying tax is a civic duty. Everyone does it in some way. People who earn less money have less to spare, so should pay less tax. People who earn more money have more to spare, and should pay more tax.
Stop me if I'm blowing your mind or anything... but don't these statements just seem... like, sensible to you? Within the realms of logic and reason and accumulated experience of what is good and bad for humans and so on? As in, the sort of things that are so very brain-haemorrhagingly obvious that one might be forgiven for thinking we didn't need to discuss them even?!
Seriously though, tell me - every time I hear the government's next big idea I feel like Will Ferrell at the end of Zoolander...
Sunday 13 January 2013
Back from the Dead Boring
Yup... not going to bore you senseless here, but let's say that the past year didn't yield much spare time for ranting except verbally, at those lucky sods around me. I did put fingertips to keypad once or twice, but not often here. In fact, what little I wrote then, I just reread and deleted because it seemed pointless and boring (it was one post, really, and it mentioned Jeremy Clarkson. Who wants that on their freshly rejuvenated blog? Not me, friend...)
Anyway - 2013 is going to be a year of many changes and much hard work, and having a ready vessel for ranting throughout may well see me right. Hence:
BEHOLD! Held To Rant Some is back on its spindly legs and underused feet, tottering from neglect and muscle wastage! REJOICE AND RANT!
Anyway - 2013 is going to be a year of many changes and much hard work, and having a ready vessel for ranting throughout may well see me right. Hence:
BEHOLD! Held To Rant Some is back on its spindly legs and underused feet, tottering from neglect and muscle wastage! REJOICE AND RANT!
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