International Women's Day: some depressing statistics

Two reports released today show that women are still under-represented on television and in business

Two reports published today to coincide with International Women's Day yield some sobering results.

First, the World Economic Forum (WEF) Corporate Gender Gap Report 2010 found, predictably, that women are still unable to break into senior management, or sit on the boards of companies.

While 52 per cent of the workforce in the US is female (compared to just 23 per cent in India), women everywhere are concentrated in entry- and middle-level positions.

Scandinavian countries such as Norway and Finland had more women in top jobs than others, following legislation that makes it compulsory for public companies to ensure that 40 per cent of their board members are female. Even so, the average number of female CEOs in the WEF sample was just 13 per cent for Finland, and 12 per cent for Norway and Turkey -- the three highest-performing countries.

Women in the UK make up more than half of all graduates, yet only one in every ten FTSE board directors is a woman. Twenty-five FTSE firms have no women on their boards at all.

But perhaps it is not surprising. Quite apart from constraints of childcare (which I won't go into here), many women quoted in the WEF report cited a "lack of role models" progressing in business.

On that note, a second survey, commissioned by Channel 4, found that men outnumber women by two to one on television. Moreover, this number is disproportionately made up of young women -- a bitter-sweet vindication for various female broadcasters who have recently accused their employers of ageism. Just four in every ten women on screen are aged over 40, although six out of every ten men fall into the same age group.

Even more telling are the contexts in which women appear. They make up almost half of the actors in soaps, but when it comes to serious broadcasting, they constitute only a third. And when they do feature on news programmes, 69 per cent of the time they are discussing softer topics, such as health, culture or cookery, leaving the serious stuff to the men.

It's a rather dangerous situation: it could be argued that women on screen are sometimes used as "window-dressing" (to borrow a phrase from Caroline Flint). Their presence gives the impression of equal representation in the media, but the importance placed on their youth and appearance, and the fact that, more often than not, they do not discuss "serious" topics such as business or politics, subtly underline gender stereotypes. They also reinforce the message that there are certain spheres to which women are simply not suited.

No wonder there are so few female CEOs.

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Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

Felipe Araujo
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Hull revisited: What happens when a Brexit stronghold becomes City of Culture?

We report from Hull, to find out if you can replace the kind of nostalgia that led to a Leave vote with cultural investment.

At 75 metres long, the offshore wind turbine blade erected across Queen Victoria Square, in the heart of Hull, is a sculpture intended to mark a new chapter in the city’s history. For the next 12 months, Hull, a city of more than a quarter of a million people in the northeast of England, will be the UK’s City of Culture.

The 28-tonne blade hails from the local Siemens plant. The German technology company employs around 1,000 people in the area, making it Hull’s biggest single employer.

Seen up close in this context – laid dormant in the middle of a town square instead of spinning up in the air generating energy – the structure is meant to remind passersby of a giant sea creature. It is also, I’m told, an allusion to Hull’s rich maritime history.


All photos: Felipe Araujo

Nostalgia is a big thing in this part of the country. At one point, Hull was the UK’s third largest port but technology and privatisation drastically changed that. The battle over cod fishing with Iceland in the waters of the North Sea 40 years ago has also dealt a major blow to a region with a long and proud trawling tradition.

People here still talk about a bygone era when the fishing industry provided jobs for everyone and there was enough money to go around.

Fast forward to 2017, and the country’s new capital of culture is the same city that voted 67 per cent in favour of leaving the EU last June. Its new-found prestige, it seems, is not enough to erase years of neglect by a political class “too busy for commoners like us”, as one resident puts it.

“More than a message to Brussels, it [the Brexit vote] was a message to Westminster,” Paul Leeson-Taylor, a filmmaker born and bred in Hull, tells me. “For the first time in a long time people in Hull felt like they had the chance to change something, and they took it.”

But while speaking to people on the high street and hanging out with locals at the Community Boxing Club in Orchard Park, one of the city’s most deprived areas, there is one word that consistently popped up in conversation – more than any specific policy from Westminster or the much-hated rules “dictated” by Brussels. Foreigners.

According to official figures, Hull’s population is 89.1 per cent white British. Still, immigration is big on people’s minds here.

During my two-day stay in the city, I find myself being the only black person in most places I visit – I’m certainly the only black guy at the boxing club. So when someone begins a sentence with “I’m not racist but…”, I know a tirade on immigrants is about to ensue.

“There are just too many of them,” Nick Beach, an estate agent whose Polish clientele is a big part of his business, tells me as he is about to teach a boxing class to local children. Beach was born in Shepherd’s Bush, in West London, but has been living in Hull for the last 20 years.

“When I go down there these days and go into Westfield shopping centre, it is very rare you get an English person serving you now,” he says. “I just find it disappointing that you go into your capital city and you are a minority there.”

These are the much-discussed “left behind”, a white working-class community that has gained particular prominence in a time of Brexit and Donald Trump. Under economic pressure and facing social change, they want to have their say in running a country they claim to no longer recognise.

For Professor Simon Lee, a senior politics lecturer at the University of Hull, immigration is only a superficial layer when it comes to explaining the resentment I witness here. For him, the loss of the empire 70 years ago is still something that as a country Britain hasn’t come to terms with.

“The reason for us to be together as a United Kingdom has gone, so what is the project?”

As destiny would have it, a foreign company will now play a major role on Hull’s economic future, at least in the short term. In the wake of the Brexit vote, there were widespread fears Siemens would pull out of the region and take its factory elsewhere. With the massive blade looming large in the background, Jason Speedy, director of the blade factory in Hull, assures me that isn’t the case.

“The Brexit decision has made no difference. We have made our investment decision, so Siemens, together with the Association of British Ports, has put in £310m. It’s all full steam ahead.”

As Hull becomes the country’s cultural hub for the next few months, the hope is that its residents stop looking back and start looking forward.

For Professor Lee, though, until there is a complete change in the power structures that run the country, the north-south divide will remain – with or without the EU. “The way you kill nostalgia is to have something new,” he said. “The reason why people here are nostalgic is because there is nothing to replace it with.”

Felipe Araujo is a freelance journalist based in London. He writes about race, culture and sports. He covered the Rio Olympics and Paralympics on the ground for the New Statesman. He tweets @felipethejourno.