Page 3 – when the battle’s lost and won

On the bus today, middle-child kicked my foot and rolled her eyes towards the bloke behind me. He was sitting facing her on the seat kitty-corner to hers. I looked over. He was reading a folded-over tabloid newspaper, & a full page black and white photo of a smiling, perky-boobed, naked girl, not much older than herself, was right under my daughter’s nose.

My first reaction was surprise at seeing a ‘Page 3 girl’. Back in 2015 The Sun newspaper stopped their famous ‘Page 3 girls’ feature after years of campaigning from women. Page 3 featured young women who frequently were girls – Sam Fox started topless modelling in 1983 aged just 16. She remembers seeing the photos in The Sun on the bus on the way to her Catholic school, which promptly expelled her.

 

“Wow. You’ve got the face of a kid but the body of a woman,” the photographer had told her.

 

Sam Fox isn’t much older than me. She was a scandal and a sensation.  At the peak of her fame, Sam, who came out as a lesbian in 2003,  had bodyguards.  I remember the  whispered discussions surrounding Page 3, and my grandmother’s disgust that my grandad bought the paper. He would purposefully leave it lying around open on page 3, not to discomfort my sister and myself, but to wind up my grandmother who would clutch her pearls (yes, literally) and talk about the corruption of youth.  A more discerning reader, my grandmother got her news from The Daily Mail which she considered to be the height of sophistication.

Sam Fox was not alone in her youth. Maria Whittaker also made her first appearance in The Sun aged 16. She too shared a huge following, with regular TV appearances on The Benny Hill Show, and was named ‘Page 3 Girl of the Year’ in 1989.

So how did Page 3 begin? On November 7th 1970 The Sun published the first picture of a naked woman to be featured in a daily newspaper. German model Stephanie Rahn was positioned sitting ‘tastefully’  in a field, shot from a side angle with one breast exposed. Editor Larry Lamb claimed she was in her ‘birthday suit’ to celebrate the first anniversary of the paper’s tabloid format.  Within a year of starting to publish topless photos, The Sun’s circulation almost doubled to 2.5 million, reaching 4,000,000 by 1978. The Daily Mirror, and later The Daily Star, and The Sport (1991-2010) followed suit and Page 3 became a phenomena.

In 1986 MP Clare Short criticised The Sun’s Page 3 feature, saying she wanted to “take the pornography out of our press” adding, “I’d love to ban it. It degrades women and our country.”

Ms Short said she faced “giggling sneering MPs” when she introduced a private members bill in 1987 as part of her campaign against pornographic images in the press. The Sun, in retaliation launched its ‘Save our Sizzlers’ campaign – a blatant excuse to run loads more pictures of topless girls

The day before the 1992 election, The Sun printed a picture of a fat topless woman and the warning, “Here’s How Page 3 Will Look Under Kinnock!’.

Hopes that a female editor might view Page 3 differently were dashed when, on her first day as editor of The Sun in 2003, Rebekah Wade walked into the office wearing a pro-Page 3 badge. In response to Ms Short’s continued objections, she published a picture of Clare’s head on top of a topless woman’s body and the slogan ‘Fat, Jealous Clare Brands Page 3 Porn’ and likening her to the back of a bus.

When Short commented at a Westminster lunch,  “I might go back to my little Page 3 bill and take the pornography out of the press,” The Sun accused her of “spreading more doom and gloom” and “making everyone’s life a misery”. A bus full of indignant Page 3 models was dispatched to Short’s house within an hour, armed with pictures of themselves and a photographer.

In her 2004 biography ‘An Honourable Deception’ Ms Short wrote, “It is hard not to conclude that The Sun sets out to frighten anyone who might dare to agree that such pictures should be removed from newspapers…  I bow to no one in my respect for John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty, but I do not believe that inappropriate sexually provocative imagery, plastered across society, is an example of liberty.”

The  No More Page 3 campaign was started in 2012 by Lucy-Anne Holmes, with a petition asking The Sun‘s then-editor to scrap the topless photos. Over two and a half years the petition collected 201,000 signatures. Holmes had over-optimistically originally set her sights on a million signatures and to have page 3 down in time for her holiday.

Because sadly, the public does not seem especially bothered.

In 2014 Joshua Allan started a petition for Nottingham Trent’s student Union to ban sales of publications that featured naked women. He collected just 64 signatures. Around the same time, Jonathan Fair petitioned The Star to remove their Page 3, and collected 22.

In July 2013, the then-Prime Minister David Cameron was asked his opinion of Page 3 in an interview for R4’s Women’s Hour.“It is probably better to leave it to the consumer,” said Mr Cameron. “In the end, it’s an issue of personal choice whether people buy a newspaper or don’t buy a newspaper.” When asked how he felt about his own children viewing it, he avoided answering.

In contrast, Caroline Lucas took off her jacket during a 2013 Westminster Hall debate on sexism to reveal a T-shirt bearing the slogan No More Page Three. Speaker John Berkow subsequently banned the wearing of “ostentatious display of badges, brand names, slogans or other forms of advertising of either commercial or non-commercial causes”

In the Guardian in March 2013 Holmes explained why that the arguments,“You don’t have to buy it” and “You’re just jealous” hold little water.

“We’re hearing about 15-year-old girls who have been walking down the school corridor and their boobs are being graded out of 10 compared with the model on the page. They’re not buying it. The mother who walks into a cafe and has to explain to her six-year-old daughter why there’s a naked woman in the Sun? She’s not buying it. The paper isn’t bought and read in isolation, and we all have to live in a society that says ‘shut up and get your tits out’…  Imagine if on Page 3, for 42 years, we’d seen scrotums – young, big, hairless scrotums, and now a man was standing up and saying ‘I’ve got sons, and they’re walking down the street, and people are grabbing their balls and saying show us your balls, and they hate this. They’ve got self-esteem issues, and could we just stop the scrotum pictures?’ Imagine if a woman then turned around and said ‘you’re just jealous’. It would be ridiculous.”

Caitlin Moran was a supporter of the No More Page 3 campaign, making this observation in her book ‘Moranifesto’.  You can read her full essay on the reality of Page 3 here.

On their blog  No More Page 3 wrote:

The Daily Mirror used to feature topless Page Three girls in the 1970s. It dropped the feature in the 1980s because it realised that.. to keep on featuring bare breasts in a family newspaper would make it look like a dinosaur.”

 

Yet The Sun, The Star and The Sport persisted. So why the focus on The Sun? The Sun newspaper sold around 2,500,000 copies every day. These newspapers were left lying around, shared about: it’s estimated that the paper had a weekly estimated readership of 11,000,000.

You can read the letter to David Dinsmore, then Sun editor, and see the names of the MPs who supported the No More Page 3 campaign here.  The letter concludes, “The Sun publishes Page 3, which reduces women to objects. It reduces men to objectifiers. And it reduces this country to one that upholds 1970s sexist values. We’re better than this.”

In August 2013, the editor of the Irish Sun, Paul Clarkson, dropped Page 3 in its traditional format and began featuring pictures of young women in swimsuits instead.

Girlguiding Advocates said, “It is impossible for girls to nurture their ambitions if they are constantly told that they are not the same as their male equivalents. This is what Page 3 does. It is disrespectful and embarrassing.” 

Campaigners started an advertising boycott against The Sun, and held weekly protests outside the paper’s Wapping offices.

Journalist Martin Daubney accused some NMP3 campaigners of “anti-woman vitriol” predicting that the campaign would backfire and only leave Sun readers more determined to keep Page 3, spitting out in return, “Short has paved the way for wave after wave of self-appointed, censorious feminists eager to tell us that Page 3 – like the Sex Pistols – is the root of all evil in British society. “

In September 2014, Murdoch described Page 3 as “old fashioned” leading NMP3 campaigners to hope it was reaching the end of its time, and feminist campaigner Helen Saxby to respond, “Page 3 is a daily reminder of inequality. Mocks women’s achievements. Gives girls an outdated view of what women should be.”

 

 

 

 

In January 2015 it was reported that the Sun would no longer feature topless young women on page 3.

I think the Sun capitulated in the end because we met with Tesco and they agreed to stop displaying newspapers around the sides of their newspaper ‘cubes’ where little children could see objectifying images on the front page,”  one campaigner told me yesterday. “I think when the Sun saw the largest supermarket chain was listening to us and actually making changes they knew the tide had turned.  I believe commercial interests were behind their decision, not sudden remorse at having objectified half the population since 1970.”

“Today we should be celebrating that, for the first time in 44 years, the biggest picture of a woman in the UK’s most read newspaper will not be of her breasts.” reported Left Foot Forward on 20th January 2015.

“Yesterday morning,” wrote Ceris Aston in the Independent on the morning of 21/1/15,  “we woke up to the news that, after two and a half years of campaigning, No More Page 3 was no longer a request but a statement.”

Cause for rejoicing indeed. But hang on, where are we really?

We’re here.

We’re on a doubledecker bus in Camden, hurtling through the 21st century.  It’s 2018 and a teenage girl is sitting opposite her mum.  The girl is wise and wild, raised a little feminist, and irritated more than intimidated by the old man with the pervy newspaper. She kicks her mum’s foot and rolls her eyes. Her mum looks round.

 

He was an older bloke, probably about 70.  The picture was black and white, full page. The girl in the photo was probably still in her teens, smiling- of course she was- bare-breasted, her thigh coyly covering her pubic hair, one hand on her hip. 

At 4 o’clock in the afternoon, the bus was fairly full.  Several people were standing. It would have been really embarrassing to say something. The photograph is a drop in the ocean. Women’s magazines ooze with pictures of topless celebrities on holiday. Sometimes a woman is serenaded for ‘showing off her beach bod’ othertimes her stretchmarks and cellulite are ringed with the red marker pen of shame.  ‘Topless is the new normal’ declares The Daily Star’s website, and you know what, maybe they’re right. “Happy NUDE year! Page 3 girls back in fine form as they unveil sexiest poses for 2017 calendar!” coos The Sun online in 2017.

As long as breasts aren’t being used to feed babies, they’re fair game.

I looked away. I looked back.  And as I looked back the bloke turned the paper over, smirked and made a half-grunt as his eyes ran up and down the young woman’s body for a few seconds, before he turned the paper round again. The girl in the full-page photo beamed at me vacuously.

Daughter read my mind and mouthed, ‘Don’t!’

If he had turned the page over, the moment would have passed.  But he didn’t. I looked at the other passengers on the bus. Nobody seemed to care. I felt so angry and yet so weary that this is actually still considered ‘normal’.  Why should girls and young women ever be expected to look at photographs of stripped and objectified peers in public places? To me it seems surreal.  Once you notice the trappings of porn culture and patriarchy they are everywhere. Daughter tells me, “I have to just not think about it mostly, or I’d be angry all the time.” 

Verging on invisible, I have less to lose. 

I looked back at the harmless-looking bloke in the tweed cap.

I realised there wasn’t an option.

I mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ at daughter and turned to the bloke. I spoke loudly but fairly cheerily.

“Excuse me? Would you mind moving your newspaper so that picture of a naked girl isn’t directly under my teenage daughter’s nose? Thank you.”

He was embarrassed and folded over the paper. Daughter was embarrassed. The other women on the bus did not break out into songs of solidarity.  Perhaps they thought I was crazy.  TBH I have absolutely no idea how anybody responded because I kept my eyes glued to my phone for the rest of the journey.

Did I have to do it?  Yes. I really think I did.  I would have despised myself if I hadn’t spoken up.

Did it make me feel good at the time?  No. It was awkward and embarrassing and difficult.

Do I regret it? No. We should be proud of our moments of courage, however small.

 What message do I give my children if I stay silent?

Women, we don’t have to be nice all the time.  We don’t have to make it easy for them.

“Courage calls to courage everywhere.”

When you see sexist bullshit, call it by its name.‬

 

 

 

Posted in Investigative, Women's Rights | 3 Comments

Butterfly 2 – in search of puberty blockers

Episode 2 of ‘Butterfly’ hit our screens last night, and what a whirlwind it was. As the opening credits rolled the self-described  ‘truthful and powerfully beautiful drama’ opened with a scan of Max’s dressing table: moving past the snarling dinousaurs to the place where wide-eyed, pastel-maned ponies mingled with lipsticks and glitter lamps, just in case we had forgotten that all is not ‘normal’ in the Duffy household.

Dropping all pretense of being much more than a glorified advert for Mermaids, the first scene showed Vicky & Stephen, Max’s parents, attending a Mermaids meeting where the host tells them how her now-daughter currently lives in Italy and is ‘dating a gorgeous Italian’. Well, that’s certainly a step in the right direction: what more could a ‘real’ girl want? A career perhaps? Validation outside of her relationships with men? Of course not. This is a world where stereotypes are not just revered but aspired to.

“Listen to your child,” she tells Vicky and Stephen in a condescending whisper. Vicky finds the meeting ‘really encouraging;’ Stephen finds it ‘difficult‘.
I’m already reaching for a large gin and tonic.

On discovering Max is still being bullied at school, Stephen approaches the bullies in the school yard, and tells them “You say anything to him again and I’ll put my hands so far down your throat I will rip out your heart.”

 

Totally inappropriate and just a tad over the top, but fairly understandable under the weight of all that testosterone. This is a bloke who even hoovers the carpets in a manly manner. You can bet it will backfire on him in Episode 3. Nonetheless, personally I applaud his ability to shut the bullying little blighters up: my hubby is horrified.

“We’re as good as any other parents,” says Stephen, defensively, when Vicky’s mum accuses the family of ‘paper(ing) over the cracks’.

Are you?” throws back wide-eyed Lily, who in time-honoured teenage tradition seems to think good parenting can be measured by immediate capitulation to every whim, “You’re still not giving him what he wants.” Preferred pronouns are forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Later? The next day? The scenes change so fast it’s sometimes hard to tell, as the script-writer rushes on to the next event. Stephen- or Nigella as Vicky oh-so-amusingly calls him on this occasion- is in the kitchen again. “Where’s Max?” she asks innocently, and we know trouble is on the cards.

Max’s whereabouts forgotten for a minute, Vicky & Stephen almost kiss, but Lily bursts in: she needs a wee and Max has been in the bathroom for half an hour. Alarm bells ring, everyone dashes upstairs and Stephen breaks down the door with a manly kick. Max is in the bath with a piece of broken glass, threatening to cut off his penis. Stephen takes the glass off him and accidentally cuts himself: camera zooms in on the blood.

Vicky wraps Max in a towel, crying, “They said this would happen, didn’t they? We’ve got to do something!”

“We will, son, we will.”

“We will MAXINE!” glares Max from his mother’s arms, and I half expect Ave Satani to start playing in the background.

Commercial break.

Camera pans over pink-lit dresser adorned with pompoms, nail polish, hairbrush & mirrors. Max is sleeping, clutching the Mermaid pendant which dad untangles from his hands & places on a different dresser, one sporting a dinosaur, a toy car and a games console.  The camera pans slowly into a close-up on the pendant as the sun rises, the room brightens, birds sing and daylight floods the room.

Cut to Vicky, packing a suitcase full of all the ‘boy things’ in Max’s  bedroom and shoving it under the bed. The family don’t seem to be able to make their minds up. Either he can’t have any ‘girl’ things or he can’t have any ‘boy’ things. No wonder he’s confused. The last thing she picks up is a tiny pair of blue baby shoes from the shelf. These too must go – what self-respecting girl would ever have owned a pair of blue shoes? The suitcase packed away, Vicky collapses hyperventilating by the bed.

They visit the head teacher who is worried Max may be just going through a phase and talks about pencil cases and netball.

“I want a happy daughter, not a dead son,” says Vicky.
“It’s what I want to be. It’s what I am.” says Max.
“I’ve seen him.. her..  in her school skirt, the tights and that, and, yeah, it looks right.” forces out Stephen.

Poor bloke, he’s trying so hard and he just ends up sounding kinda creepy. When he runs back to relative sanity in the arms of ex-girlfriend Gemma, part of me doesn’t even blame him for being a love rat.

Rather than this raising safeguarding alarm bells- it’s quite definitely the weirdest thing Stephen has said so far- this seems to convince the headteacher, who promises to send a letter to Max’s year group over half term, saying he’ll be coming back as Maxine.

The camera cuts to Max, who is getting dressed  in a training bra, tights, pink knickers and frills.  His hair is curled and he is painted up with pink lipstick, blusher and eyeshadow by his mother and sister. His eyebrows are now perfectly plucked and sculpted: adorned with the trappings of femininity he looks not entirely unlike a short-haired Brooke Shields in ‘Pretty Baby’.


“Wow,” says Stephen.
“Will she do?” asks Vicky.

By this point I’m looking round the room for a suitable receptacle should I feel the need to throw up.

“She will,” declares dad, and with the blessings of the patriarchy upon him, Max is reinvented as Maxine, and off to school he goes.

“Will I be a proper girl?” he asks, unconvinced, arriving at school.
“Just be yourself,” advises Lily, oblivious to the irony that being himself is the one thing that Max is not allowed to do.

Not at any point in this entire soap opera has anyone suggested to Max that he can like the things he does and still be a boy.

School starts. The girls love him- one gives him a rose for ‘grace, happiness and gentleness‘  and they send him messages on social media saying ‘you look great’ and ‘you are so brave’. The boys are less kind. One is quite rightly sent from the room for calling Max and his new friend ‘a tranny and a stick insect’.

The teacher is concerned about Max and starts “Maxine…”

“You said “let’s just get on,’” Max cuts her off, firmly.

Maxine is calling the shots now, although in most schools a girl wearing that much make up would be told to ‘go wipe that muck off your face.’

Max makes a new friend: the girl who gave him the rose is an anorexic who shows him her self-harming scars. The storyline takes care to emphasise that there is a big difference between the two children. She is ill, Max is not.

“Are you ill?” asks Max.

“Yes. You?”


“No.”
“

You’re lucky.”


They put on some pop music and dance and sing along. Much wiggling ensues. Because they are girls, obvs.

The family meet up with grandma, who is angry to see Max sporting a pink hoodie & shoes and, astonishingly, even more pink make up than in previous scenes. Lily and Max dance on the platform while Vicky and her mum talk. Grandma accuses Vicky of spoiling Max and cruelly spits out, “You’re no grandson of mine,” allowing Max the snappy comeback, “I know I’m not.”



The family gets an appointment at the gender clinic after five months wait. Wearing pink shoes and a short skirt, Max arrives at the Ferrybank with his parents, but all does not go as Vicky hopes.

Stephen expresses his reservations, and Max tells a clinician, “Mum says there’s something I can take,” adding, “It was Lily’s idea. She made me do it,” and later, “I don’t want them to stop loving me.”

The clinic ‘don’t think it’s helpful to focus all our attention on physical intervention’ and refuse to prescribe puberty blockers despite Vicky’s insistence, instead advising ‘watchful waiting’ and suggesting Max finds ‘more fluid ways to embrace your gender’.

Vicky freaks out.“She can’t wait! Wait until she’s been through all that agony and hell and she ends up in a man’s body? Offer more counselling when she tries to commit suicide again?”

She turns to Stephen, “It’s your fault!”

Max sits next to his mother, bubblegum-pink lips unmoving; beshadowed eyes unblinking, throughout this ghoulish prophecy.

“They’re not gonna hand them out like bloody sweets!” shouts Stephen, who has done his research & knows that most kids desist post puberty if they aren’t given blockers. “These are the experts!”

“I’m the expert!” shouts Vicky, who doesn’t even seem to have done a quick Google on the potential problems involved with prescribing blockers to pre-pubescent kids.

Transgender Trend yesterday published a comprehensive article in response to this episode, entitled ‘They Look Normal’, exploring the origin and effect of ‘blockers’ in depth and discrediting the ‘harmless and reversible’ myth. It’s such an excellent piece that I don’t need to go further into the implications here. Instead, I encourage you to read the article (link above) for yourself.

If Max’s mother gets hold of blockers for him he may well ‘pass’ as a girl, but if he goes on to take cross-sex hormones he will almost certainly end up sterile and with little or no libido. Is this less important than how he may look?

The family goes home.

“I don’t think I can trust you any more,” Vicky tells Stephen.

Max goes to bed without taking his make-up off.

 

The next day Vicky goes back to Mermaids where she is told her GP is unlikely to prescribe puberty blocking drugs and advised not to buy them online, but that there are ‘other options’. A trip to a doctor in Boston would do the job, she is told, but would cost thousands of pounds. Vicky says she’s starting a business but is told ominously, “Vicky, you need the money now.

Taking a cheque her mother had given her to bolster her new business, Vicky decides to head for America without telling Stephen or Lily. She dashes home and grabs Max, ignoring Lily who is desperate to talk to her.

Hastily removing his earrings and make up, Max and Vicky rush to the airport, as back home Lily is beckoned into the dark-doored, gloomy-looking house of a boy from school.

Cut to Vicky and Max stepping out of a taxi, outside a state-of-the-art glass-fronted hospital. The sky is blue and everything is clinically clean.

Their luggage has disappeared but Max’s make-up is back. Vicky takes his hand and smiles.

Credits roll.

Butterfly is a 3 part drama shown in the UK on ITV. All stills in this blogpost are screenshots from episode 2.

Posted in Children & Young People, Investigative | 5 Comments