The naked feminist

Like the annual cycle of the seasons, history is rarely an upward march; instead, we repeat the errors of the past and the pendulum of life swings back and forth, whether between boom and bust, or between progressivism and puritanism. Both were apparent this month.

But first, a literal temperature check, as the long-range weather forecast for the month had unusual significance for me. March represented the end of my multi-year winter: having been hidden away writing my new book Naked Feminism: Breaking the Cult of Female Modesty, I was to emerge, like Botticelli’s Venus, baring both my brain and my body as I embarked on a series of unclothed interviews and appearances as the Naked Feminist. So, while another Beast from the East would not have deterred me, it would have left me somewhat out in the cold.

Like scantily clad women through history, my book was deemed corrupting

Measuring female modesty, from Merseyside to Iran
Having bid farewell to the month of February, which saw schoolgirls in Merseyside lined up to have their skirts measured (seemingly requiring them to pass a modesty test before they could enter the classroom), the month of March brought us to International Women’s Day, and reminders that the fight for women’s rights and equality has a long way to run – in some places more than others.

Tens of thousands of women in cities across Pakistan joined the Aurat March to demand equality, while in America the Iranian feminist campaigner and journalist Masih Alinejad gave a stirring speech at a Time magazine awards dinner, noting that if she were speaking to her audience in Iran, all the women in the room would be at risk of being killed simply because their hair wasn’t covered. She described women in Iran as “wounded” by the regime’s response to their protests, but “unbowed [and] unbreakable”.

Puritanical Amazon bans my book
While the publication of my book on 10 March was a cause for celebration, it rapidly descended into a battle with Amazon as their puritanical algorithms (and, it transpires, even more puritanical employees) banned my book from their Amazon Ads service on the grounds the cover was “sexually suggestive”, then reaffirmed that decision after a “human” review. Like scantily-clad women throughout history, my book was ostracised and deemed unsuitable company for others: a corrupting influence that needed to be stamped out.

At this point I did wonder if the situation would escalate to ritual book-burnings, perhaps in Florida where it is now unacceptable to show students an image of one of the greatest sculptures in the western artistic canon. Provoked by Amazon’s decision, I began a social media-driven campaign, asking “Why are you afraid of my breasts”? (They really aren’t scary, I promise – and if you don’t believe me, Google me to check.)

The economics of amorality
As the daffodils opened around me, the economy was wilting away. It all felt a bit 2008 on some days this month, although the biggest surprise to most people was probably that there was a bank called SVB. As an economist, I could tell you that any bank specialising in only one sector is high risk, but this fact seemed to have eluded the highly-paid “talent” in the private equity industry. If only it had given itself a name that gave a clue as to what it did. Silicon Valley Bank was clearly too obtuse – next time try “The Risky Technology Bank”.

The rapid implosion of Credit Suisse that followed the SVB debacle shows that even banking systems based on lax money-laundering checks and a historic policy of neutrality (or, more appositely, amorality) cannot withstand the global forces of greed and stupidity.

Sadly, unlike SVB, Boris Johnson was famous well before his failure, and I suspect many of us would prefer a repeat of 2008’s financial crisis than him returning to Downing Street. It wasn’t quite Sophie’s Choice, but faced with the alternatives of admitting guilt or admitting his own stupidity, Boris went with the latter, perhaps thinking we’d conclude he was being honest for once.

Victory
At under 4’10” I was never going to be a rower, but seeing Cambridge win both the women’s and men’s races buoyed my spirits. However, the fact this was only the eighth year the women’s race was held on the same tideway, and televised, is a reminder of how recent – and how fragile – equality is.

Closer to home, my social media campaign gathered traction, and with the Telegraph throwing their weight behind it, Amazon Ads backed down: my book – and my breasts – were now free. Before long, I was throwing off my clothes once more, this time for a Daily Mail photo shoot; they did try one photo of me with clothes on, but it didn’t make it into the paper.

It will be April when you read this, but the fight for women’s rights continues, and until it ends you can expect to see a lot more of me – as I like to say, make naked protest while the sun shines.