Up with the Beauticians!

I mean, there was probably more than
 two. But there's only two in my head
now I've come to write it all down.

The past week has contained two stand-out moments that prompted an extreme reaction from me. Just two? Well, two that spring to mind now. Two unrelated incidents about the same issue. Two that caused completely opposing emotions. So, yeah. Two. Let's break them down.

Firstly, I saw a tweet from an unknown woman. I shouldn't have paid it any attention, but I did. It got under my skin. In a comment following the news that beauty salons could open although still be banned from offering facial treatments, the woman commented, 'I'm struggling to get on my feminist high horse in order to save the beauty industry.'

Here's my feminist high-horse
tea towel. Please note 
additional screwed-up tea
towel in the background. (Also
feminist, but less vocal)

I fumed. Being someone with their own feminist high horse, I couldn't understand her link between being a supporter of women's rights, with the demise of an industry that employs largely women. I mentally composed my incisive reply back - Fuck your feminism if it means women lose their jobs - but stopped myself. No point. Twitter can be toxic enough without me swearing at a stranger first thing in the morning. But it really bugged me. I get that some people choose not to avail themselves of the services of a beautician. That is absolutely fine. But other people choose to do so. And those that do, support an industry where 94% of the workers are female. Regardless of whether you want your eyebrows threaded or not, it seems like a reasonable issue about which a self-proclaimed feminist should, not only get up on their high horse, but gallop about at speed, dragging with them a banner that says, 'The Beauty Industry Is Worth Saving'. Maybe it's just me. I do enjoy a bit of horse-galloping when the moment requires it.

Oh Gloria! I hear you.

The partial reopening of beauty salons (although Friday's announcement has since made clear they can open fully from August) prompted quite a lot of feminist rage online. The other kind of rage though. The kind that was incredulous at the sexism of the government's 9th July announcement. (Where maskless beard trimming was allowed but someone getting their eyebrows done whilst wearing a mask, was not.) Beauty guru, Caroline Hirons, posted a seventeen minute video on Instagram, where she highlighted the misogyny at the heart of the cabinet's lockdown-easing priorities. To be fair, most of it could be summed up with the phrase, WTAF? But she also pointed out the not-too-unlikely leap from there being no one in the Cabinet with an understanding of facial beauty treatments, to the eradication of reproductive rights. If no one in the room has had an eyelash tint, they'll have no clue of the procedure, imagining it's more dangerous than it is. If no one in the room has a uterus, there'll be no consideration of the needs of those that do.

The coaster of discussion!

In related news, I've just finished watching Mrs America. (It's on BBC2 and is the reason why the Gloria Steinem gif above is actually Rose Byrne, who plays her in the show.) It's the story of the 1970s fight between the Women's Liberation movement and the group of conservative women who protested against the Equal Rights Amendment. It's a fascinating watch. Not least because it's brilliantly acted, scripted and directed, but because fifty years on, the same fights are still being fought. I wouldn't thank you for an unwanted pregnancy anywhere, but Texas in 2020 seems like a particularly challenging place to be. It was only nine months ago that the UK fully decriminalised abortion, when Northern Ireland's law changed. At the weekend, my six year old niece asked me what my 'Votes For Women' coaster meant. I explained that in the olden days women weren't allowed to vote in elections, or have jobs, and that the men had the money and power. She asked me how it had changed. So I positively spun it. I told her about the suffragettes and how today, women have choices. They get to have careers and have babies. Or they can have careers and not have babies or vice versa. Ultimately they get to choose how they want their lives to be. And I meant it when I said it. I mean, things have got a bit better. We've got the vote and everything! But when the same arguments from the seventies about bodily autonomy are still having to be made, it's really quite hard to spin positively without lying. 

We're almost back, baby!

But let's move on. I said there were two stand out moments this week. Let me share the happier one. On Wednesday, my phone rang. It appeared I'd got to the top of the waiting list. My beauty salon was ringing to tell me they could do my nails again! This was excellent news. Not only because I was being relieved of my attempts to contort into freakish positions in order to do my toes, (bigger chests do not help!) but because they were still in business. The woman that does my short, black, square finger nails every now and then, was still in a job. I had worried about her over lockdown. She is ace, funny, and young, and also working for a business that's less than five years old. I've had my messily-painted fingers crossed since March. But now she and the business she works for, are back. I couldn't be more relieved. It might not seem much in the grand scheme of things, but after COVID inserted itself into our lives, we're all finding joy in the small things, aren't we? And in the absence of anything bigger, I have a plan. Next time I'm watching PMQs, or the News, or anything where the misogyny of the government is showing, I will have two perfectly painted black-nailed fingers to stick up at the TV. It's the least I can do.