Both Britain and Japan are keen on the fetishisation of a girl’s school uniform. Photo: Ryo FUKAsawa on Flickr, via Creative Commons
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Why I regret dressing up as a sexy schoolgirl

Those who believe the “sexy schoolgirl” to be nothing more than a bit of fun should consider the knock-on effect this sexualisation has on real-life schoolgirls, who are routinely harassed on their way to and from school.

Growing up, we listened to a lot of blues and rock and roll in our house, but there was always one particular song that my mother always told me that she hated. “Good morning little schoolgirl,” it goes, “can I go home with you? Tell your mama and your daddy, that I’m a little schoolboy too.” Regardless of the era in which it was made, it’s hard to view the song’s lyrics as anything other than flesh-crawlingly creepy, and not just because it was covered by the Grateful Dead and the thought of Jerry Garcia dressed incognito as a schoolboy truly is the stuff of nightmares.

I thought of “Good morning little schoolgirl”, somewhat appropriately, this very morning, when I saw that American Apparel had produced a “Back to School” range of miniskirts modelled in poses that would not look amiss on YouJizz. The classic school skirt-riding up to reveal bare buttocks is nothing if not ubiquitous in internet pornography, and “teen porn” is one of the most popular search terms there is. In light of this it’s difficult to conclude that this kind of imagery does not feed in to a sexualised culture involving ‘barely legal’ babes of indeterminate age, whose youthful resemblance to underage girls is capitalised upon by the porn industry. “Your first assignment is to dress accordingly”, the American Apparel lookbook informs us, sounding very much like the kinky headteacher from a Black Lace novel. I’m surprised they didn’t opt to add that any deviations from the dress code would be punished with a vigorous spanking, because you’ve been a very naughty girl, etc, etc.

American Apparel has, naturally, come under fire for its sexist advertising for some time now, and while, like many feminists I cheered its advocacy of the full bush, many of the ways in which the company chooses to depict women unnerves me, not least because the schoolgirl trope is something that I bought into myself. At university, I attended many a “school disco” night, where myself and my friends would dress up in knee-high socks and miniskirts, complete with drawn on freckles and pigtails, in full-knowledge of the sexual connotations. I feel embarrassed by it now, and should probably detag myself from the photographic evidence residing in the deepest depths of my Facebook, but at the time the act of dressing up like little girls seemed like just a bit of fun, a nostalgia trip back to our schooldays. But if I’m honest with myself, the nostalgia argument just doesn’t really wash. When I was at the age that I was attending school discos, I never snogged another girl in the knowledge that it would turn the guys on. I never snogged anyone, in fact, and my outfit mostly involved tie-dye.

Britney Spears notwithstanding, the fetishisation of a girl’s school uniform is a peculiarly British phenomenon (though Japan, where school uniforms are also the norm, also has much to answer for). I’ll never forget a French friend returning from a weekend visiting a British university with a stunned look on his face. “The girls…they all dress up as schoolgirls. For fun,” he said, as though he could barely believe his luck. But those who believe the “sexy schoolgirl” to be nothing more than a bit of fun should perhaps consider the knock-on effect this has on real-life schoolgirls, who use Twitter accounts like @EverydaySexism in their droves to report sexual harassment they receive from men on their way to and from school. I hate the idea that, in sexualising the school uniform, I may have contributed to this kind of culture, a culture I began to understand in my early teens. As thirteen year olds, my friends and I would go into internet chatrooms and talk to “boys”, boys who I’m convinced were pretty much all actually dirty old men. “What are you wearing?” they would ask. “Are you wearing your school uniform?”

This power we seemed to have over these strangers confused and titillated us. That these men should find our school uniforms arousing was accepted at face value, although I’m sure the school uniforms they imagined were a far cry from the reality (marigold yellow polo shirt, polyester sweatshirt, kickers). Nevertheless, we knew on some level that being a schoolgirl had currency. Not consciously, I should add, but we’d been warned enough about talking to strangers to know that our corruptible innocence was tempting to some. The friend of a girl at school had shagged a member of staff who had asked her to call him “teacher”. We’d all heard the term “jailbait”.

As with any form of sexism, things often become clearer when you question whether or not the boys are doing it too, and you only have to imagine an orderly line of adult males bent over in little short shorts, Just William caps and with drawn on freckles on their noses to expose the disturbing place from which the sexual fetishisation of schoolchildren originates. In light of a swathe of revelations and school abuse scandals, most recently that of Highgate Wood school in north London, it’s strange that the tradition of the adult school disco continues. It’s something that very much seems to belong in another place and time, a time that was home to this permissive, 1970s morality we are hearing so much about in the fallout from Operation Yewtree. A time of dolly birds and magician’s assistants, when the age of consent didn’t seem to bother anyone, and rock stars slept with fourteen year olds. But it certainly does not belong in 2014, in a country paralysed by a terror of paedophiles but in which adult women are encouraged to become complicit in the sexualisation of schoolchildren by channelling them through costume. If anything exposes our neurotic attitude to underage sex, then surely this is it. Isn’t it time we put the little schoolgirl to bed once and for all? 

Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett is a writer for the New Statesman and the Guardian. She co-founded The Vagenda blog and is co-author of The Vagenda: A Zero Tolerance Guide to the Media.

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Why isn't Labour putting forward Corbynite candidates?

Despite his successes as a candidate, the organisational victories have gone the way of Corbyn's opponents. 

The contest changes, but the result remains the same: Jeremy Corbyn’s preferred candidate defeated in a parliamentary selection. Afzhal Khan is Labour’s candidate in the Manchester Gorton by-election and the overwhelming favourite to be the seat’s next MP.

Although Khan, an MEP, was one of  the minority of Labour’s European MPs to dissent from a letter from the European parliamentary Labour party calling for Jeremy Corbyn to go in the summer of 2016, he backed Andy Burnham and Tom Watson in 2015, and it is widely believed, fairly or unfairly, that Khan had, as one local activist put it, “the brains to know which way the wind was blowing” rather than being a pukka Corbynite.

For the leader’s office, it was a double defeat;  their preferred candidate, Sam Wheeler, was kept off the longlist, when the party’s Corbynsceptics allied with the party’s BAME leadership to draw up an all ethnic minority shortlist, and Yasmine Dar, their back-up option, was narrowly defeated by Khan among members in Manchester Gorton.

But even when the leadership has got its preferred candidate to the contest, they have been defeated. That even happened in Copeland, where the shortlist was drawn up by Corbynites and designed to advantage Rachel Holliday, the leader’s office preferred candidate.

Why does the Labour left keep losing? Supporters combination of bad luck and bad decisions for the defeat.

In Oldham West, where Michael Meacher, a committed supporter of Jeremy Corbyn’s, was succeeded by Jim McMahon, who voted for Liz Kendall, McMahon was seen to be so far ahead that they had no credible chance of stopping him. Rosena Allin-Khan was a near-perfect candidate to hold the seat of Tooting: a doctor at the local hospital, the seat’s largest employer, with links to both the Polish and Pakistani communities that make up the seat’s biggest minority blocs.  Gillian Troughton, who won the Copeland selection, is a respected local councillor.

But the leadership has also made bad decisions, some claim.  The failure to get a candidate in Manchester Gorton was particularly egregious, as one trade unionist puts it: “We all knew that Gerald was not going to make it [until 2020], they had a local boy with good connections to the trade unions, that contest should have been theirs for the taking”. Instead, they lost control of the selection panel because Jeremy Corbyn missed an NEC meeting – the NEC is hung at present as the Corbynsceptics sacrificed their majority of one to retain the chair – and with it their best chance of taking the seat.

Others close to the leadership point out that for the first year of Corbyn’s leadership, the leader’s office was more preoccupied with the struggle for survival than it was with getting more of its people in. Decisions in by-elections were taken on the hop and often in a way that led to problems later down the line. It made sense to keep Mo Azam, from the party’s left, off the shortlist in Oldham West when Labour MPs were worried for their own seats and about the Ukip effect if Labour selected a minority candidate. But that enraged the party’s minority politicians and led directly to the all-ethnic-minority shortlist in Manchester Gorton.

They also point out that the party's councillor base, from where many candidates are drawn, is still largely Corbynsceptic, though they hope that this will change in the next round of local government selections. (Councillors must go through a reselection process at every election.)

But the biggest shift has very little to do with the Labour leadership. The big victories for the Labour left in internal battles under Ed Miliband were the result of Unite and the GMB working together. Now they are, for various reasons, at odds and the GMB has proven significantly better at working shortlists and campaigning for its members to become MPs.  That helps Corbynsceptics. “The reason why so many of the unions supported Jeremy the first time,” one senior Corbynite argues, “Is they wanted to move the Labour party a little bit to the left. They didn’t want a socialist transformation of the Labour party. And actually if you look at the people getting selected they are not Corbynites, but they are not Blairites either, and that’s what the unions wanted.”

Regardless of why, it means that, two years into Corbyn’s leadership, the Labour left finds itself smaller in parliament than it was at the beginning.  

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.