Here’s something I wrote around 15 years ago. As a midwife, you get to see some pretty awful misogyny. Women turning up in tears because they’d been sacked. For being pregnant. Or being dumped. For being pregnant. Pregnant women discovering that their lover has another family. Being exposed to this misery made me feel so grateful for my good fortune that I wouldn’t have dreamed of complaining. Feminism was for others. I was lucky because I didn’t need it. The thing is, I wasn’t wrong. Others need it way more than I (white, middle class, straight) do. My grievances? Mere niggles, really. That said, things weren’t equal.

“I should start by stating, in a good girlie, feminine way that I’ve been one of the lucky ones. Born with not a care in the world, well educated, loving supportive family, got to have it all: the husband, the kids and the job I wanted. Yes, for 5 years, I was mother, wife and midwife, and I reckoned I was in business. Sadly, the wife bit kind of fell apart for all sorts of reasons, but I can’t help feeling that my ex’s take on a woman’s role played a part in the breakdown of our relationship. And I suspect his views are quite common, and that many women would probably prefer to put up with it rather than be faced with single motherhood. Which is ironic, really, since these women are probably already virtual-single-mothers for all the help their partners are when it comes to parenting and home-making. Having said all of that, I don’t want this to be about man-bashing. We all agree that we don’t hate men, because clearly that would be ridiculous, and that’s not what feminism is about. It’s about making things more equal. Because they’re not. Kat Banyard makes this crystal clear. So does Caitlyn Moran, in a more accessible manner. I’m convinced that men and women are more or less equal while they are young and single. It begins to go wrong when you co-habit. Apparently, men are blind to dirt, so if women do not want to live in squalor when sharing with the love of their life, they have to resign themselves to cleaning up. Look, I know there are some blokes out there who are fastidiously clean and tidy, and equally there are some filthy women out there. But the research is clear: women do most of the housework; cleaners are by and large NOT men. And if women complain about this inexplicable masculine inability to maintain clean living standards, they are quickly labelled NAGS. Boring old nags. This absolves men from all guilt, since obviously nagging should not be rewarded by giving in to unreasonable demands. Ah, guilt, the key concept, I reckon. Women bear all the guilt. Started with Eve. Adam ate the forbidden fruit, but hey, it wasn’t his fault. Nothing’s changed since those seismic events in the garden of Eden. If a woman remains single, she is at fault because she is clearly too picky. And yet she should be settling down with someone, she can’t possible be happy on her own. What twaddle. Furthermore she should be grateful for a man to take care of her. Hmmm, who takes care of who in a standard relationship?? Once suitably (or not) paired up, her gratitude knowing no bounds, she should expect to keep house, even when at this stage, both are working the same full-time jobs. Well, you know, he’s not a great cook, poor thing, he wasn’t taught, besides, he makes such a mess, it’s just easier to do it myself… Poor thing, he’s just not interested in that sort of thing. He does it so badly, I’d only have to redo it anyway. I’m sick of asking him again, he’ll think I’m a nag. This is before you’ve factored in the children. Until that point, it’s kind of ok. You have the same(ish) kind of income, and the same social life, you are both into your carreers and, let’s face it, your sex drives are pretty much compatible. It’s not perfect, but there’s a pretence at equality and while it wouldn’t do to scratch too deep, it’s enough of a veneer that you can live with it. Don’t complain, for heaven’s sake, do you know how lucky you are?? So you progress to having a child. How bad could it be? We get maternity leave don’t we? We get to go back to our old jobs, and do flexi-time should we choose to? We get through the pregnancy, trying not to complain too much, after all, we chose this didn’t we? It’s what we wanted isn’t it? We’re in control of our reproduction aren’t we, lucky us, so if we’re up the duff it’s cause we chose it. So there’s a bit of discomfort, we’re a bit tired, what did we expect? Sure, we still have homes to maintain, and now, come to think of it, we need to start thinking about making it baby-friendly. Sorting out the nursery, that sort of thing. Lots of insidious little things creep up, you can’t quite put your finger on it, let alone complain, but you’re left with the distinct impression that things are less equal. You gave up smoking and drinking but your partner did not. You have to eat wisely but your partner does not. You have to spend a fortune getting a whole new pregnancy wardrobe but your partner does not. Why should he? His life goes on as normal. You get to the end of the day completely wiped out, but your partner does not. Sexual compatibility starts to be a very minor problem. For you, that is, not your partner. You feel guilty about that. After all, every woman knows she needs to keep her man happy in that department or he’ll look elsewhere. Look, I know that not all men will be unfaithful, but again, the research is clear and unequivocal: men do go elsewhere, and tolerance is pretty much your only option if you don’t want to be a single mother. Which you don’t. Because everyone knows that kids from single-parent families end up rioting. And it would ultimately be the mother’s fault because if she’d only kept her bloke happy, or acknowledged that it’s not his fault, he can’t help himself and turned a blind eye, she wouldn’t be in this mess. You make it to the end of the pregnancy, you have your baby. You survived the patriarchal attittudes that prevail despite concerted attempts to make childbirth a tiny bit woman-friendly. Don’t get me started on that one, I’d bore you to tears. You are exhausted. Your partner is doing his best, but hey, he’s tired too you know. He tries hard: he calls for take-aways, he changes nappies, he goes to the shops, he puts the flowers in water, he bathes the baby and gives good cuddles… meanwhile, the bins aren’t emptied, the soiled nappies are strewn around the house, the shops appear not to sell anything remotely healthy and the fridge is always mysteriously empty despite said efforts to purchase food, the flowers are wilting in their vase, the baby is clean but the nappy is on back-to-front and her she’s dressed for summer despite the fact it’s february (or vice versa), the washing is done but it’s hard to tell the difference between the messy pile of crumpled clean stuff and the messy pile of dirty stuff. But here’s the thing: we can’t complain. He’s trying so hard, we should give him some credit for that, shouldn’t we? Hey, he’s still around, that’s got to count for something. Never mind the fact you are now all struggling to find something to wear. So you get up, and you tidy up. That’s what maternity leave is about, isn’t it? You can sleep later. Except that you can’t. You have to look after your partner, he still has needs, you see. Even though he was (probably) in the delivery room when you had the baby, even though he witnessed what happened to you down there. Sure, he’ll be patient, but it’s not his fault if he needs reassurance that you still love him, is it? He’s been really helpful hasn’t he?? Sensitive new man and all that? And, as ever, it would be wrong to complain because bottom line, it’s true and undeniable, he HAS tried, he genuinely DOESN’T understand why you are mysteriously in a bad mood. Must be those pesky hormones (ie not his fault, he’s the victim of your unruly hormones, always has been). Need I go on? As the months and years progress, any contribution he makes to child-care will be massively over-rewarded by you and society in general, and the fact that you have uncomplainingly gone back to your job (part time, lucky you, you will never be promoted unless you are prepared to work extra hours in your own time for no extra money), will go totally unnoticed. It’s your duty you see, and you love it. If you don’t, you’re an ungrateful woman who should (look over there!) at the properly unfortunate women in, say, Afghanistan.

So basically I think that women do get a bum deal. And that’s us lucky ones. I’m not even talking about those in developing countries. We are made to feel guilty at all points in our lives. Not on purpose, I’m sure of that, but the fact remains that the guilt happens. And not to the men. As Caitlyn Moran says: Does it apply to men? If not, if a problem is faced only by women, then it’s a feminist issue.

I do apologise for the rant, not very feminine of me, and I do feel dreadfully guilty you know…”

Things have improved since I wrote that. A bit? I think? We can talk about the inequalities now, they are acknowledged. Women in sport are better represented. And yet, the gender pay gap is still a thing; Feminism remains an F-word; we still risk inadvertently crossing the line from feminist to feminazi. Then we are fair game for all the haters, the Andrew Taters. That’s terrifying. I’m a midwife, I can see we still have a long way to go. I have teenage sons. They think it’s all gone too far. I have a daughter. I worry.