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7 reasons why proportional representation is a feminist issue

Under a proportional representation system we would have more women MPs, global research has shown.

It is 100 years since women won the right to vote. Now, there are a record number of women MPs in the House of Commons. Our Prime Minister is a woman. But 2017’s general election marked only the first time the number of men elected did not exceed the number of women elected ever. It’s clear something needs to change.

Our electoral system is built on the out-of-date first past the post system, which in 2015 saw almost three-quarters of votes cast wasted. Proportional representation would make every vote count, and ensure the representation of parties in Parliament would match the number of votes they get.

But what many people don’t know is that proportional representation is a feminist issue, too. Here’s seven reasons why.

1. Get more women elected

Under a proportional representation system we would have more women MPs, global research has shown. Harvard found that in “plurality/majority systems” like Westminster, women made up one in ten parliamentarians on average, compared to one in five in proportional representation systems.

2. Get men out of comfy seats

In a first past the post system, parties tend to run an incumbent male MP again, research by LSE has found. This means the system is locked into looking like the previous Parliament.

3. Action on austerity

Austerity disproportionately hurts women, with black and ethnic minority women hit the hardest. Using the government’s own statistics, the Resolution Foundation calculated Britain is now facing its worst decade for wages since the Napoleonic wars. Under the current voting system, pro-austerity MPs in safe seats have no incentive to do anything to improve the life chances of some of the most excluded people in society.

4. Nothing about us without us

Having more women in Parliament isn’t just a good thing – it is the only way to make sure women’s interests are looked out for in government and our laws. Look at my colleague Caroline Lucas, fighting for compulsory PSHE lessons in schools, or Harriet Harman’s fight for paid maternity leave for MPs.

5. Climate action now

Women are more affected by climate change. Women make up the majority of the world’s poor, and are more dependent on natural resources for their day to day lives. Women make up somewhere between 50 and 80 per cent of the world’s food producers, and are often responsible for securing water, food, and fuel for cooking and heating – resources which are the first harmed in the event of climate disasters. Women also face social, economic, and political barriers that limit them coping with climate change impacts and moving or finding a new job.

6. Give peace a chance

Involving women in peacebuilding makes it 24 per cent more likely that violence will end within a year, research shows. Peace is more likely to continue long term if gender equality is central to all political decisions.

7. You might hear the word “tampon” in Parliament

With more women in the chamber, perhaps the men in the room will stop being too embarrassed to say “tampon” – as was the case for Sir Bill Cash who had to be forced to say the dreaded word by Stella Creasy.

Amelia Womack is the deputy leader of the Green Party.


Tracey Thorn. CRedit: Getty
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“Not technically beautiful, she has an engaging laugh”: 35 years of being described by men

For women in music, being described most of the time by men is just par for the course.

I am sure you all saw the Twitter challenge that took off the other day – a request to women to “describe yourself like a male author would”, started by the writer Whitney Reynolds. There were thousands of hilarious replies, with women imagining how a bad male author would describe them. I thought about posting an example, but then realised, I didn’t have to imagine this. I’ve been being described by male journalists for more than 35 years.

Katy Waldman in the New Yorker wrote about the challenge, and how it highlighted clichés in men’s writing: “…prose that takes conspicuous notice of a female character’s physical imperfections. This is done with an aura of self-satisfaction, as if the protagonist deserves credit simply for bestowing his descriptive prowess upon a person of less than conventional loveliness.”

And oh boy, that hit home. Yes, I thought, that is precisely how I’ve been described, too many times to recall, so many times that I’ve actually sort of stopped noticing. The following aren’t direct quotes, but near enough.

“Not conventionally pretty, Thorn nevertheless somehow manages to be curiously attractive.” “Her face may not be technically beautiful but she has an engaging laugh.” “Her intelligence shines through the quirky features.” Often what’s irritating isn’t the hint of an insult, but just being wide of the mark. “She isn’t wearing any make-up” (oh my god, of course she is). “She’s wearing some kind of shapeless shift” (it’s Comme des Garçons FFS).

I’m not trying to arouse sympathy. I’m much thicker-skinned than you may imagine, hence surviving in this business for so long. But the point is, for women in music, being described most of the time by men is just par for the course.

A few weeks ago, when I was in Brussels and Paris doing interviews, I was taken aback all over again by the absence of female journalists interviewing me about my album – an album that is being described everywhere as “nine feminist bangers”. As the 14th man walked through the door, my heart slightly sank. I feel like a bore banging on about this sometimes, but it astonishes me that certain aspects of this business remain so male-dominated.

Even the journalists sometimes have the good grace to notice the anomaly. One youngish man, (though not that young) told me I was only the third woman he had ever interviewed, which took my breath away. I look at my playlists of favourite tracks over the last year or so, and they are utterly dominated by SZA, Angel Olsen, Lorde, St Vincent, Mabel, Shura, Warpaint, Savages, Solange, Kate Tempest, Tove Lo, Susanne Sundfør, Janelle Monáe, Jessie Ware and Haim, so there certainly isn’t any shortage of great women. I’ve been asked to speak at a music event, and when I was sent the possible line-up I couldn’t help noticing that over three days there were 56 men and seven women speaking. The final bill might be an improvement on that, but still. Any number of music festivals still operate with this kind of mad imbalance.

Is it down to the organisers not asking? Or, in the case of this kind of discussion event, women often feeling they don’t “know” enough? It’s a vicious circle, the way that men and their music can be so intimidating. The more you’re always in the minority, the more you feel like you don’t belong. Record shops seemed that way to me when I was a teen, places where guys hung out and looked at you like you didn’t know your Pink Floyd from your Pink Flag.

I also have to watch songs of mine being described by male writers, and sometimes misinterpreted. I’ve got one called “Guitar” on my new record. There’s a boy in the lyrics, but he’s incidental – it’s a love song to my first Les Paul copy. That fact has sailed over the heads of a couple of male reviewers who’ve seen it as a song all about a boy.

That’s the trouble, isn’t it? You miss things when you leave women out, or view female characters through the prism of their attractiveness, or when you take for granted that you’re at the centre of every story, every lyric. I bet you think this piece is about you. 

Tracey Thorn is a musician and writer, best known as one half of Everything but the Girl. She writes the fortnightly “Off the Record” column for the New Statesman. Her latest book is Naked at the Albert Hall.

This article first appeared in the 18 April 2018 issue of the New Statesman, Enoch Powell’s revenge