Amanda Todd

Last week, a 15 year old girl killed herself because she was being bullied.

The story of Amanda Todd has been widely reported over the last few days and so I do not intend to re-tell it (you can get the background details here and here).

I know that the first rule of news sites is never to read the comments at the bottom of a story  if you do not want your day to be ruined and wish to retain even an ounce of faith in humanity. The second rule is that if you do venture to the comments section, do so with an emotional rage-shield and be prepared for outrageous claims and anonymous trollage. But some of the comments made about the Amanda Todd case have left me feeling very angry because these are not a case of trolls stirring up and making noise – these are the views that many people hold. Let me give you a few examples.

This commenter seems to soundly justify what he/she believes. The comment begins apologetically – “i (sic) don’t mean to sound rude, but…” then the good ole slut-shaming, victim-blaming comes into play. It was all her fault, really. She got her tits out – that’s just asking for trouble. What about the guy who started it all off? Oh the guy? “yes, the guy was wrong for sending the pictures, but…” OH THAT BUT AGAIN! But… ultimately it was her fault for being a slut in the first place. Amanda was 15 years old when she killed herself. She must have been aged 12-14 when her pubescent breasts were bared on webcam. But still we’re blaming her young nativity over a male (I do not know how old he was) who took it upon himself to screenshot those images and spread them around the internet? Yep actually, that seems about right. My favourite part is the last sentence – “it’s sad to see that she took her own life, though. rest in peace.” So yeah it’s all very sad that she was so depressed by all of this that she decided at the age of 15 to hang herself, but at the end of the day, basically, she deserved it..  They may as well have signed off with  “soz lol”.

Thanks for your insights there commenter, and thanks especially for making introversion a negative trait synonymous with self-obsession. Also very useful tip there for anyone who may be in a similar position to Amanda – guys, just get off the internet and socialise with Real People, even if your crippling anxiety debilitates you to the point that it prevents you from leaving the house for fear of being ignored, ridiculed, and beaten up by Real People in places that are supposed to be considered safe, such as school.

I don’t think we really see cases like this as being real anymore. In a phenomenon which has perhaps been exaggerated with the addition of the heartbreaking video that was made a month before her death, it’s almost as if Amanda Todd is not quite a real person – she is a person who exists on The Internet. We are all saturated with news stories which become more and more shocking and more and more constant and graphic that it feels like the more we see or hear about, the less in touch with reality these cases become. We have our own fairly mundane lives, and then we have The Things That Happen On TV/Internet. The things that happen on TV used to be dramas, soaps – things that were easily distinguishable from reality – or the news, which for an hour of the day told us about important things that happened in the Real World that day. But now the line between fiction and reality is blurry – the news is on 24 hours a day and under pressure to make more things into news stories as well as now having access to news from literally all over the world. More and more TV is not  quite fiction or reality or somewhere in-between – are the contestants of X Factor/Take Me Out/The Only Way Is Essex Real Life People, or People On TV? It’s hard to tell. And this worries me, because it leads to people talking about a 15 year old girl who has completed suicide because she was so depressed after being bullied as if she were not real, but rather someone In The Media who is open to public debate and opinion.

There are many things about this story that concern me, ranging from social media use, to child protection, to sex education, to slut-shaming, victim-blaming, public attitudes and the way we perceive events in the modern world. But mostly I am deeply saddened that a 15 year old girl felt that she had to take her own life because she could not live with being constantly tormented, and that the things that led to her tragic death are still going on even after she is gone.

Blaming a child – and she was a child – for her own harassment because she naively showed her breasts to someone she thought she could trust is sickening, but not an uncommon sentiment. How can we change this?

Why is Jeremy Kyle allowed on TV?

Apologies in advance for this being a rather lazy, ranty and well… blindingly obvious post. I also know that the Jeremy Kyle show is just one in a huge number of shows that are appalling and disgusting and everything else, but this morning I woke up in my parent’s house where there is usually a television on (unlike in my flat where there is only a TV in the living room which I rarely watch because a) it’s bloody freezing in there and b) the telebox so tiny that it is genuinely better for my squinty eyes if I watch shows on my laptop) and this is what I heard.

“On you go! Go! Stop wasting my time, go and get smacked off your faces on somebody else’s time! You’re pathetic!”

I very nearly dropped my coffee and pancakes – did I just hear that properly? Yep. It was 9am and the world’s biggest fucktard Jeremy Kyle was sauntering around the screen puffing his pathetic chest out and flapping his arms around like a little juvenile bird attempting to look bigger in order to scare away rival males from his territory.

I despise Jeremy Kyle. I know, I know, we all do. But my hatred towards him is so strong it burns. I think I dislike him more than I dislike any other person in the whole wide world. I dislike a few people but most of the time, when I try really, really hard, I can sort of see their point of view, or understand where they are coming from, or something. I try hard to understand the views and opinions or people who I don’t agree with, because I find it makes it easier to have a rational discussion about a given topic and maybe even sway them to see my side of the argument, rather than laughing at them, saying “LOL OMG WUT LOOK WHAT @STUPIDIDIOT SAID EVERYONE LAUGH AT THEM AND MAKE THEM FEEL LIKE THEY ARE STUPID!!” I see this all the time, especially online. If you use this approach then great, you will probably generate a lot of followers and become a celebrity leader in your own little cult. But to everyone outside your self-selected group, you look like a dick. You look like a bully. I do not like bullies.

Jeremy Kyle is an undeniable bully. He undermines near enough every person who goes on his show (supposedly looking for “help”?) and has the most disgusting attitude and demeanor I have ever seen. You can almost see his penis enlarging every time he gets one over on someone or announces “THIS IS MY STAGE! Waaa I’m Jeremy Kyle and that is MY NAME and this is MY SHOW waaa waaa waaa OH FUCK OFF YOU PATHETIC PIECE OF SHIT! GET OFF MY STAGE! SHUT UP YOU SHOULDN’T EVEN HAVE KIDS!” etc. If I saw someone on the street behaving the way he does on stage, I would be on the phone to the police. I know, I know, it’s all hyped up for the cameras and is carefully edited: It’s not that bad, really. WHY is it “hyped up” for the cameras? Is this really entertainment? Watching the lives of members of our society fall apart in front of our eyes – oh no but it’s funny because actually they’re not real members of society because they’re drunks and junkies and not even educated and OMG THEY DON’T EVEN PAY TAX so they deserve the public humiliation. And actually, this article written by someone who used to work on the show sheds some light on what really happens behind the scenes (it does not make things any better):

Guests are wound up like a coiled spring before the show. It is an integral part of preparations – a process, sanctioned by the show’s editors, called “talking up”. It starts hours before the recording of each show, with researchers and producers flitting from guest to guest, talking about the first few points they will say on air. Normally our advice would be stirring, along the lines of “go out there, stand right in his face and point at him so he listens!” Contributors are advised to shout five main points, written by the production team, to support the story of the show. They are encouraged to stand over their opponent, to make their points more effectively… and the guest’s nervous confusion – many had never been on a talk show before – by playing a machiavellian game of “he said, she said” to ensure that feelings run high. For instance, I might tell a guest about another: “You will never believe what he is planning to say about you!”

Some people may claim that Kyle himself is all an act, you know, maybe he’s a genuine bloke in Real Life. Pardon me for being judgmental myself, but I cannot see an ounce of decency or empathy in his empty eyes. How could a humane being do this for a living?

I am aware that every now and then the “guests” on the show go away happier than when they arrived. The DNA test was the result they wanted, the lie detector test was passed and/or someone found a long lost relative. But that doesn’t make up for all the damage that is undoubtedly caused by this show not just to the guests themselves, but to the viewers, too.

The format of the Jeremy Kyle show has been largely accepted and normalised. I don’t watch it very often at all, but when I have the misfortune of catching some of an episode, it makes me feel so uncomfortable that I have to turn it off. But thousands of people don’t turn it off and so become desensitised to a revolting, self- righteous, unqualified bully yelling abuse at other human beings in the name of “entertainment” or worse, “therapy”. If I had children I wouldn’t let them watch this type of behaviour on TV. Why is the Jeremy Kyle Show still on TV? The world would be a better place without it.

Intimidation should not be a normal part of a woman’s daily routine.

As far as days go, today was a pretty shitty one for me. I won’t go into the details, mostly because they are boring and financial-related (the joys of unfunded-PhD life) and they will sort themselves out. That’s not what I’m writing about here, but I’m just setting the mood, as all good writers do. So I am sent home from work early at 3pm (part of the problem stated previously) and I ponder what to do with my night. Initially I go home, get my pyjamas on and watch Secret of our Living Planet on BBC iPlayer and generally feel sorry for myself (by the way, that is an absolutely splendid show so do check it out, but it’s just not how I wanted my Saturday night to go…). Via Twitter I heard about a free comedy night that was happening in town and I thought… Ach ok, why not. It will at least get me out the house for a while and I like comedy! Excellent. I knew one of the acts that was going to be performing, but apart from that I was basically going on my own, but I’m fine with that. I’m a social primate, I like meeting new people. All is good.

So I make myself an omelette, pour a glass of wine and get ready to go out. At 6.45pm I leave the house, having consumed said omelette and single glass of wine. A few seconds after leaving the house, a car full of young men goes past and peeps the horn vigorously as they all shout at me out of the rolled-down windows. Let me again remind you that it is 6.45 in the evening. It is still very much broad daylight and there are lots of people about. Naturally this pisses me off and so I do what I always do in these situations: I give them the finger and move on. This is often considered by my friends to be an unwise move, but it makes me feel better so I don’t care.

I feel it appropriate to tell you at this point what I was wearing, although I hate myself for doing so. I know (or at least sincerely hope) that most of you who read my blog are not of the opinion that a woman deserves to be verbally/physically/sexually abused because of the clothes she chooses to wear, but there will no doubt be some stragglers who stumble upon this site and think “YEAH BUT U WER PROBABLY ASKIN 4 THAT SORT OF ATTENTION”. Not that I ever feel I have to answer to these types of morons, but I’ll tell you anyway, just so we’ve all got a clear picture in our heads. I was (still am) wearing 80 dernier black tights with shorts, a baggy t-shirt, a knee-length black cardigan and biker boots. Not that it matters, I could be wearing a fucking pair of knickers and a crop-top saying “I <3 COCK” and I should still feel comfortable walking around on my own before dark.

5 minutes later, as I begin to walk down a hill, I notice a 40(ish) year old man pushing his bicycle up the hill in my direction. I feel his eyes on me but think little of it. As he gets closer I can’t really ignore the fact he is staring at me anymore, and so I meet his gaze (which, it turns out, is combined with the sleaziest half-smile I have ever seen) and I try to make the least impressed facial expression I can (you know, that one that says “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STARING AT?”) But he clearly misreads my signals and his creepy half-smile turns into a full blown horrifying grin and he says “hello baby” in a foreign accent. I glare at him briefly, put my head down and continue walking.

I stroll on, with my headphones on in my own oblivious world for about 30 minutes until I arrive at the comedy venue. I have one beer, have a good laugh, talk to some lovely people, then decide at 10pm that it’s time to go home. So I get the headphones back on and off I trot.

So it’s now 10pm and it’s not fully dark but it’s certainly getting there. People always either consider me brave or stupid or a combination of both because I have absolutely no problem walking home on my own at such an hour. I can take care of myself and I’ll be damned if anyone is going to make me feel like I have to pay for a taxi out of sheer fear. Speaking of which, I got to a set of traffic lights (at which I was the only pedestrian waiting to cross) and a taxi was sitting waiting at a red light beside me. I saw the driver staring at me but, again, I ignored it. People stare at people all the time, human nature innit? Stop flattering yourself, Lauren! Then as the light turned amber and then to green, he tooted his horn and winked at me. If it’s a choice of getting in a car with that guy or walking on my own, I’ll take the latter thanks.

About 5 minutes later, as I’m walking through the centre of town, a group of guys in their 20s are fooling around as guys in their 20s do. As I walk past (with my headphones on but turned down), I hear them shout at me. “Alright darlin’?” When I keep walking without turning around or missing a beat, their calls become more aggressive. “Oi. OI!” When I still don’t react, they respond with “fooking slut” and then they all laugh. I can’t help but feel like I’ve missed the joke.

I’m not complaining that tonight all these awful things happened to me. Quite the opposite actually. I have heard stories of women who have been followed home, physically attacked, and had to go through so much more than this. Like I say, I really try not to let these stupid little things get to me. But this is really just an average Saturday night for a woman walking around alone. Most of the things I have described here, many women would just shrug off and not even see as a problem. And that is my problem. All of these things are acts of intimidation. They are not compliments. I hate that being a woman by default means that you are probably going to be subject to these sorts of things on a very regular basis. And I am sick of it.