Photo: courtesy #thisdoesntmeanyes.
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#thisdoesntmeanyes: how a new campaign is tackling the myth of consent, once and for all

An overheard conversation in a bar prompted four friends to start their own anti-rape campaign. Now, they're asking women everywhere to join in and declare that their clothing doesn't mean consent.

As press releases go, the one for #thisdoesntmeanyes starts strong. “There’s a myth that surrounds women, a myth that embroils them: women who dress or behave suggestively, women who are playful or act provocatively, women who flirt or openly discuss sex – they’re asking for it.”

Anti-rape campaigners have been chanting “yes means yes” (and “no means no”) for decades, yet – as any feminist who spends much time online will be all too aware – there are plenty of other things that somehow still  frequently get mistranslated as “yes” – including, say, miniskirts, alcohol, or being in a public place after dark.

#thisdoesntmeanyes leaves no room for ambiguity. By collecting photographs of women in their own clothing, its four founders - Nathalie Gordon, Lydia Pang, Abigail Bergstrom and Karlie McCulloch -  hope to end the myth once and for all.

The campaign began because of an overheard conversation in a bar: two men turned to each other and commented that a passing stranger was “asking for it”. The women happened to be in the company of a friend who had been raped, and the suggestion that clothing could imply consent made her deeply unhappy.

Three out of the four women behind #thisdoesntmeanyes know someone who had also been the victim of rape, and the men’s comments made them realise it was time to act. With their backgrounds in art, illustration and editing, they decided to start their own campaign, and reached out to Rape Crisis London, who were on board immediately. “They just saw the whole thing as exactly what women needed”.

On April 11, the group took to the streets armed with a pop-up studio and the world-renowned photographer PEROU. Almost all of the women they stopped had a story to tell: not surprising, given that 1 in 5 women will experience sexual assault since the age of 16. “Sometimes it was enough just to say ‘we’re doing a project for Rape Crisis London’, and they’d say ‘what do I need to sign?’”. After being photographed, many of them asked if there was more they could do – one girl even e-mailed the team afterwards, offering to volunteer her time unpaid to help the campaign.

With other campaigns putting the onus on victims to prevent themselves from being assaulted, #thisdoesntmeanyes was a welcome chance to fight back. (When I ask the women about their campaign, one of the first things they bring up is the recent poster from Sussex Police. “It was everything we are trying to work against”.)

For those inclined to sneer at hashtag politics, it’s a potent reminder of the internet’s ability to forge progressive communities. Looking through the different photographs, what is most striking is the diversity of the participants. Hollie, who appears in the campaign [see photo above], is a lesbian, and after she was photographed stayed to talk. “We had always been very clear that this campaign was for all women including the lesbian, bisexual and transgender communities, and her stories re-iterated that it isn’t just straight women who are victims”.

The women are encouraging others to post their photos using the hashtag, and will be adding  online contributions to the website. For demographics often sidelined in discussions of sexual violence, including women of colour and trans individuals, #thisdoesntmeanyes provides a forum in which they can represent themselves on equal footing.  “It’s a conversation we desperately need to have with men and women of all ages, sexes, races, sexualities.” The range of women who have already joined the campaign makes for a powerful statement.

As the organisers themselves put it, “long may the message continue”.

 

See the campaign in full at thisdoesntmeanyes.com, and add your own image using #thisdoesntmeanyes

Rape Crisis South London is open 12-2.30 and 19-21.30. Their telephone number is 0808 802 9999, or you can get help online at rasasc.org.uk

Stephanie Boland is digital assistant at the New Statesman. She tweets at @stephanieboland

Photo: Getty
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Leaving the cleaning to someone else makes you happier? Men have known that for centuries

Research says avoiding housework is good for wellbeing, but women have rarely had the option.

If you want to be happy, there is apparently a trick: offload the shitwork onto somebody else. Hire cleaner. Get your groceries delivered. Have someone else launder your sheets. These are the findings published by the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, but it’s also been the foundation of our economy since before we had economics. Who does the offloading? Men. Who does the shitwork? Women.

Over the last 40 years, female employment has risen to almost match the male rate, but inside the home, labour sticks stubbornly to old patterns: men self-report doing eight hours of housework a week, while women slog away for 13. When it comes to caring for family members, the difference is even more stark: men do ten hours, and women 23.

For your average heterosexual couple with kids, that means women spend 18 extra hours every week going to the shops, doing the laundry, laying out uniform, doing the school run, loading dishwashers, organising doctors' appointments, going to baby groups, picking things up, cooking meals, applying for tax credits, checking in on elderly parents, scrubbing pots, washing floors, combing out nits, dusting, folding laundry, etcetera etcetera et-tedious-cetera.

Split down the middle, that’s nine hours of unpaid work that men just sit back and let women take on. It’s not that men don’t need to eat, or that they don’t feel the cold cringe of horror when bare foot meets dropped food on a sticky kitchen floor. As Katrine Marçal pointed out in Who Cooked Adam Smiths Dinner?, men’s participation in the labour market has always relied on a woman in the background to service his needs. As far as the majority of men are concerned, domestic work is Someone Else’s Problem.

And though one of the study authors expressed surprise at how few people spend their money on time-saving services given the substantial effect on happiness, it surely isn’t that mysterious. The male half of the population has the option to recruit a wife or girlfriend who’ll do all this for free, while the female half faces harsh judgement for bringing cover in. Got a cleaner? Shouldn’t you be doing it yourself rather than outsourcing it to another woman? The fact that men have even more definitively shrugged off the housework gets little notice. Dirt apparently belongs to girls.

From infancy up, chores are coded pink. Looking on the Toys “R” Us website, I see you can buy a Disney Princess My First Kitchen (fuchsia, of course), which is one in the eye for royal privilege. Suck it up, Snow White: you don’t get out of the housekeeping just because your prince has come. Shop the blue aisle and you’ll find the Just Like Home Workshop Deluxe Carry Case Workbench – and this, precisely, is the difference between masculine and feminine work. Masculine work is productive: it makes something, and that something is valuable. Feminine work is reproductive: a cleaned toilet doesn’t stay clean, the used plates stack up in the sink.

The worst part of this con is that women are presumed to take on the shitwork because we want to. Because our natures dictate that there is a satisfaction in wiping an arse with a woman’s hand that men could never feel and money could never match. That fiction is used to justify not only women picking up the slack at home, but also employers paying less for what is seen as traditional “women’s work” – the caring, cleaning roles.

It took a six-year legal battle to secure compensation for the women Birmingham council underpaid for care work over decades. “Don’t get me wrong, the men do work hard, but we did work hard,” said one of the women who brought the action. “And I couldn’t see a lot of them doing what we do. Would they empty a commode, wash somebody down covered in mess, go into a house full of maggots and clean it up? But I’ll tell you what, I would have gone and done a dustman’s job for the day.”

If women are paid less, they’re more financially dependent on the men they live with. If you’re financially dependent, you can’t walk out over your unfair housework burden. No wonder the settlement of shitwork has been so hard to budge. The dream, of course, is that one day men will sack up and start to look after themselves and their own children. Till then, of course women should buy happiness if they can. There’s no guilt in hiring a cleaner – housework is work, so why shouldn’t someone get paid for it? One proviso: every week, spend just a little of the time you’ve purchased plotting how you’ll overthrow patriarchy for good.

Sarah Ditum is a journalist who writes regularly for the Guardian, New Statesman and others. Her website is here.