#4 YOU CAN SIT WITH US | Women's Wrongs

Almost exactly a year ago, I walked into my first Women’s Wrongs meeting, nervously clenching my phone in my hand and shyly inquired a group of girls, that looked really cool: Can I sit here?

Of course, you can sit with us!

They were smiling and moving their bags around, so I could join them. I felt a sense of relief and in about ten minutes I was cheerfully chatting about… I now don’t remember what… Since that day I patiently waited for Thursday nights, when I got to enter a space where I would be listened to and heard, full of people whose stories and opinions I wanted to know, who I wanted to laugh, exchange sweet compliments and get margaritas with. I no longer timidly lingered by the door, but ran up the stairs knowing that someone will always move their bags to make sure I get a seat at the table.

This feeling of being appreciated and included is what has made the Women's Wrongs community so special to me so in this issue we aimed to cultivate a platform where the contributors feel comfortable sharing a piece of themselves. We had loads of fun listening and reading to your stories about fitting in, not fitting in, being accepted and rejected, and trying to find your places and your people. I hope this issue will help you both see yourself in others’ stories and discover completely new perspectives. “You can sit with us” is a celebration of our similarities and differences and of what joint effort and community can achieve. We are so proud of and grateful for all of you who have helped this issue come to life!

I first joined the zine just in time for its re-birth as Women's Wrongs! So excited, I have written for every issue since and it has been such a pleasure to be editor for this issue!! This term has been full of so many exciting community workshops and meetings, my favourite being our mini-zine making session with Kitsch Zine for the UCL Arts For Palestine takeover, raising funds for Medical Aid for Palestinians (keep your eyes peeled for our special issue of the zines made that day!). I also adored our trip to UCL special collections, shifting through their small print selection…such a dream!

In our first meeting I shared this quote from Audre Lorde, which I would love for you to keep in mind as you flick through this zine: “As women, we have been taught either to ignore our differences, or to view them as causes for separation and suspicion rather than as forces for change. Without community there is no liberation, only the most vulnerable and temporary armistice between an individual and her oppression. But community must not mean a shedding of our differences, nor the pathetic pretense that these differences do not exist” (The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House).

Have fun reading our zine, thank you to all the contributors! Remember: you are always welcome to come sit with us!

Love Ana & Abby xx

W O M E N ,

P A I N ,

A N D

Is the experience of women one of inherent violence and suffering?

Menstruation, childbirth, menopause - the rites of passage experienced by us are marked by pain. Pain being, of course both physical as well as mental. Female pain seems at the same time to be intertwined with notions of endurance and sacrifice. A natural, unmedicated birth is for many cultures the epitome of femininity and strength. Meanwhile an epidural or a c-section is an “easy way out”. Why is this? Why is the golden standard of womanhood to live with unnecessary and treatable pain?

The medical professionals we are to trust are to some extent part of the problem. Studies show women in Swedish emergency rooms both wait longer and are less likely to be given opioid painkillers than men [Robertson, 2014]. Meanwhile, women at hospitals are more likely to be given anti-depressants and be labelled psychiatric patients – despite 3050% of female depression diagnoses most likely being misdiagnoses.

[Meta-analysis by Floyd, 1997]. Gynaecologists and doctors alike are known for the sentence they lob at any women’s health issue, be it physical or emotional – “Just go on birth control”; such continued dismissal of female pain is incredibly dangerous.

Emotional pain is just as central to our experience.

Assumptions of women’s natural “caregiver” role are often simply harmful. Family mediation, raising children, household labour – this is not said to insult those who enjoy a stay-at-home lifestyle, but rather to criticise those who assume this should be the norm. I’m reminded of the social media rhetoric which bombards TikTok feeds, a quote stating: “I couldn’t be a good mother – but I would be the best father”. This emotional labour is coupled with weekly fluctuations in mood, fatigue, and anxiety.

Often this toll is invisible.

P O W E R

When I was 17 years old, I think it was 2018, I fancied this boy who went to my friend's school. He was in a band, had long floppy blonde hair, looked a bit scrawny, and had a huge tattoo on his chest of a '60s song reference (cliché, I know but it was cool at the time). I heavily fancied him, there’s no doubt about that.

We went on a date or two, we became quite close and I felt very emotionally exposed to him. There’s something so terrifying about liking someone at such an age; everything is heightened and makes sense, but it also does not whatsoever. You’re desperate to like someone so much because of the whole young love jargon that we are obsessed with finding our person. Well, at least I was. And, he was a year or two older, so that was a thing. At that time I didn’t hold the same views of age gaps as I do now, and it may not seem like a big one but it did feel like it at times, I think I may have even wanted it to mean more than it did.

He lived a little far from me, but it was okay because he could drive. Lord, I was in awe. We would listen to the Arctic Monkeys in his wee little two-door, realising we were both at the same concert and didn’t even know it. A sign that it was fate, obviously. I would get nervous to sing along because I wouldn’t be able to bear it if my voice croaked and I was embarrassed. I could sing but I was insecure (who isn’t when they are 17?). He dressed exactly like Tumblr said he would; a bit raggy but also clean. He smelt nice, a smell which I think if I smelt today would make me feel a bit happy or sad, or some weird place in-between.

One day we got into a weird social situation together and both made it out alive, it was funny really.

It wasn’t life or death but it was just one of those stories you can laugh back on. After hanging out one time he took me to the station to get to my friend's birthday, we were celebrating in Southbank.

How sweet of him to make sure I got to the station safely. He must be a keeper. We still spoke, sometimes, and it felt fine. I felt fine. Everything was fine. Fine enough that when he was a racist I was pretty shocked, to say the least.

It was weird. My first real experience, or at least conscious and obvious, experience of racism. I’d obviously been called this and that at school for being Iranian but this was different; it was clear, violent racism. I got called a slur for a certain minority which for reference I wasn’t. You’d be surprised how many racists can’t tell what ethnicity is what. It reminded me of my Dad’s memories of racism, where the perpetrators would also get his race wrong; they’re just ignorant we’d say, they can’t even be racist right? It’s embarrassing for them really, I say as I try hard not to let the assault I just experienced get to me.

But this guy’s imagery was graphic, he took to his A-level English literature skillset in that message. I was really confused, and it didn’t seem like him at all. And, plot-twist, it actually wasn’t him. It was his friends on his phone. He had let his friends verbally violate me on his phone. He made the conscious decision, as an adult, to let his friends send me racist comments, on my appearance, my character, and my existence. I was scared. I knew him. I knew that I wouldn’t do that. I would never let my friends do that. I knew he wouldn’t. But did I even know him?

I don’t know to this day. I don’t think I’d even recognise him now. It’s quite embarrassing. I feel embarrassed about it, even though I’m the victim. It cringes to even type the word victim. Now, though, I am telling someone. Lots of people, depending on how many people read this (I hope lots, that would be cool). And now I am aware, I am conscious, I am alive.

I know what happened was wrong.

I didn’t tell any of my friends, I’ve never really told anyone. I may have told one close friend, she’s also not white. I think she comforted me. It’s all a blur. But there is something to say about the lack of safety and/or a space in which I could express this. This event took place 5 years ago now and I now feel comfortable sharing it with others, some of whom have never experienced such a thing.

And honestly, I can’t help but align this lack of social and emotional security to one of the many harmful side-effects of white feminism. An archetype of third-wave feminism that almost disregards the intersectional roots of second-wave feminism (honestly how did we get here!), to the point I feel like we’ve gone backwards.

You might think, that’s a bit of a stretch. How can one experience racism by some random guy says anything about the current state of feminist discourse? Well, just hear me out.

Despite living in beautiful London, and growing up in a multicultural hub, why am I still unsure whether my stories of love and hate are ones which I consider worth censoring? Well, when there is a lack of appreciation for the brown girl experience in general, what’s a bit of racism from a boy? Right?

How can we be surprised when there’s silence to our people’s wider feminist struggles, how can we convince ourselves that our feminist struggles are recognised by your feminism definition?

I do want to make note of the fact that I’m not blaming the volatility and trauma of this experience on the fact that I couldn’t talk to my non-poc friends about it; this is not the case whatsoever.

White men need to take accountability for their tendency to exhibit inherent racist principles, and their weird exotic fetishisation of brown women, and any women of colour (WOC) to be quite honest. There is a very deep and worrying fear that many WOC experience when dating white men; are they embracing and infiltrating our worlds and then going to leave us for a white woman? Are we a tool in their character and emotional development? Are we mere validations of their ability to be with someone different? Simply, to that, I say: We are not an experience. We are not wholly defined by our ethnicity and its physical features. We are not ‘stops’ on the way to your white final destination.

But, on the feminist front, this concerns us women. And I love women. I don’t feel safer in public than when I am surrounded by other women. Like that feeling when you step on the tube and the entire car is filled with women. I do not feel more heard on aspects of general life than when I can share them with other women, but on the racial front, there needs to be some improvement.

For our safety and our community, brown women need white women to listen to our struggles, our pain and our loss. For many of us, we are the first generation born in this country, and we actively carry that pain of transition our parents bravely faced on us daily. Displacement is still pretty new and active. We are confronted with the generational trauma of displacement and sacrifice on a basis that one cannot comprehend in its regularity. And, shocker, this continues today. As we feel immense guilt for our community at home, we are merely sat, helpless, at the pain they face, with no way to really help. With an ongoing genocide and the rapid spread of gender apartheid in the Middle East, there is never any good news. We are in a constant state of mourning. The diasporas who comfortably exist around the world whilst witnessing the deconstruction of our history, people and society feel immense guilt and sometimes shame. I feel ashamed that I can express myself freely as a woman here. I feel tormented by jokes on basic human rights when I can see those jokes manifest in the realities of women who look just like me. I am not the victim, to be clear. I have a responsibility to witness and publicise those experiences, but for those who feel as though they are not responsible because you are not a woman of colour, you couldn’t be more wrong.

It feels so obvious to say, but feminism is equality between all women and men. It extends to the Middle East. It extends to Africa. It extends to South America. It extends to Eastern Europe. So when you see events that fall into gender apartheid and contribute to gender imbalance outside of the UK, give it a read.

Read about Afghanistan’s dehumanising laws on women and girls. Go through Sudanese political discourses. Share the stories of women in Congo. Talk about young girls in Iraq. Listen to Syrian women talk about home. Ask me how you can learn about gender apartheid and its establishment in International law. Talk to your friends who are from countries affected by it. Ask them if they’re okay. Check how their family is.

Don’t let them feel unseen. Don’t let them think you don’t hold their voices and experiences to a high value because you don't share the same heritage or need the same amount of SPF. With the inclusion of gender-based issues that affect women of colour in your feminisms, we tackle the challenging intersectional nature of feminism and don’t let it leave women of colour at a standstill. We appreciate the racial strands and branches that don’t affect us all but must matter to us all. We don’t turn a blind eye to racism, against women of colour.

We won’t let other women experience racism and feel like they can’t talk to anyone about it. It’s not fair. We know we all need to be heard. We all need to sit at the same table.

Words by Ava Tehrani

“A seat at both tables?”

Being from different cultures can be a kaleidoscope experience. Having an Indian father and a Greek mother, I always felt surrounded by many multicultural experiences. Even though I grew up in the US and the UK, my parents still ensured I was exposed to both Greek and Indian Culture. Whether it was through taking Indian classical dance lessons and my Indian grandmother teaching me how to cook luchi, or watching old Greek films and my mother speaking to me in Greek. I always felt as though I could proudly say I was in tune with both parts of my identity.

There were some significant moments, when I felt as though I was able to sit at both tables of my cultural identity. Greek Orthodox Christmas being one of them. All the aunts, uncles and cousins gather at my grandparents house and it truly feels like one big community. Even though we all have to travel from different places, our grandparents' house feels like one place we can all be together. My γιαγιά (grandma) always made sure we had a huge spread of food. In Greece it is tradition at Christmas to eat lamb with roast potatoes, Greek salad, chicken soup with lemon and of course, an array of desserts. The desserts are usually my favourite part. Usually, different friends or family bring boxes of delicious kourabiethes and melomakarona, traditional Greek desserts dipped in honey and coated with icing sugar. We would all say a prayer and then just eat and talk for hours. Even though I still sit at the kids table with my younger cousins at 20 years old, the day is truly special and feels like a warm hug from my Greek culture. Similarly, I feel that I am able to always connect with my Indian culture through dance. I distinctly remember one Durga Puja, when nearly all my relatives scattered across the US came to celebrate with us at the Bengali association in my hometown. Durga Puja is an important religious and cultural festival for Bengalis who are from West Bengal in the eastern part of India. I performed a solo, wearing a red dress with multicoloured bangles. It always feels very nostalgic watching the old videos of the day recorded by my dad on our old camcorder. It was such a bright day and there was an explosive celebration of music, dance, and cultural expression.

Despite all that, being multiethnic, I have always felt that there may be some puzzle pieces missing from the whole picture. There is a common phrase amongst those who have a mixed background: “not Greek enough, not Indian enough”. Though I am both Greek and Indian, I know that I can’t fully relate to the experiences of those who are fully Greek or Indian. The first instance I experienced this was when I visited my parents' home countries and interacted with my relatives. That’s when it became obvious.

Growing up outside of either country plays a part in sometimes feeling lost about certain cultural elements and the language. Even though I can technically speak Greek fluently, when I reached Greece I realised maybe I'm not as bilingual as I thought…

It's so fascinating because you get to see your parents in their element. This is where they grew up, where their family and loved ones are. Even though the parents feel this, I felt being mixed allowed me to feel a slight distance between the same level of familiarity or belonging my parents feel.

Feeling a certain disconnect from your identity can feel challenging and overwhelming.

The sense of belonging can sometimes feel far away. However, I try to see being multiethnic from a perspective of ‘you CAN sit with us!’ We have the unique experience of being able to share many cultural customs, emotions and encounters. By surrounding myself with the right community and taking part in events which help me feel more in touch with my Greek and Indian culture, I am able to navigate my identity in a colourful light.

By Anisha Mukerjee Photos by Hena Yaman

Words by Amber Rowlands

A LOVE LETTER TO MY FAVOURITE FILM

Alice in the Cities begins with Philip slouched under a boardwalk in North Carolina, obsessively taking photos on his polaroid camera. His photos are boring; repetitive, washedout landscapes, identical snapshots of wide roads and gas stations, garages and motels. As he complains, “it just never shows what you saw”. Philip is sent back to Germany following his failure to write anything compelling about his trip to America.

And it is at the airport that we meet the protagonist of the film, nine-year-old Alice. Philip is soon unexpectedly saddled with Alice on a flight to Amsterdam, her mother disappearing in New York for vague reasons concerning an ex-boyfriend.

And so, Philip and Alice are alone.

ALICE IN THE CITIES

In Europe, the pair decide to search for Alice’s grandmother. It's an unreasonable road-trip; with Alice only remembering the name of a town her grandmother might have lived in, and a hazy recollection of how her house might have looked. She doesn’t even know her grandmother’s name, no matter how persistent Philip is in asking her.

Philip and Alice’s friendship is reluctant at first, driven mainly by need, and undercut with frustration. Philip treats her like an adult, then remembers her age: calling her bitchy, then asking if he should read her a story. There are never boundaries between them- Alice sits on the toilet whilst Philip lies in the bath. Their dialogue is steeped in authenticity, conversations a mix of the routine and deeply personal. As the easy comfort between them grows, broad, sweeping shots are replaced with vulnerable close-ups. They make an endearing pair, like father and daughter as they walk hand in hand, Alice lying on Philip’s lap as he drives. They do aerobics at rest stops, take matching pictures in photo booths.

Their journey, rambling and bittersweet, is imbued with a longing for genuine connection in a landscape dominated by consumerism. An American jukebox plays American tunes, Philip gulps a Coca Cola and attends a Chuck Berry concert. Yet, in its essence the film criticises the pervasive commercialisation of American life, finding moments of freedom and sentimentality beyond its reach. And by the end of the film, Philip has stopped his obsessive photography.

by LARA WEEKS

That Nest New places, new faces That you must interact with one day or another.

But you’ve never been that girl Never been the one who has to approach people to get conversations started, Never been the one who’s talked over or entirely disregarded, Never been the one who had to flaunt her achievements for people to take note of her Do they not know? Do they not sense?

Well, each one out here has done the same work or more, in their defence.

But now you’re stuck, Now you're doubting whether you’re the sweetest, smartest, funniest, Heck! They all seem sweet, smart, and funny, Hey! They all seem sweet, smart and funny, So it doesn't feel like another contest, another pageant now, But you’ve never been that girl who lets her guards down, And maybe they haven’t either ‘cause some are hostile enough.

So now how to decide where to show up at all, where to show your true self, and where to bluff?

It is a gamble, yes, But you’ve never been the girl to shy away from a challenge: Already brooded over too many regrets So not this time, no, You put yourself out there with baby steps, And your feet are getting stiff along with your mouth from all the fake smiles, But now you’re hungry to turn them real so you hunt, rummaging through all errors and trials, And suddenly you’re laughing, Laughing over how strange, how unnatural it once felt to approach each other, How funny that that was ever even a thought As you now slurp up your drinks, arms intertwined To find comfort in each other within the newer places, newer faces, Some far enough you can only sense their ecstatic grins, Some close enough to gauge their lost, nervous eyes that you now see your past self in, A wave of the arm, and you scoot on your bench to the side, Overcrowded but never fully occupied, Nest ever ready to house another bird, ‘Cause you may have never been that girl But you’ve all been girls.

Armiya Sultan

‘Finding a new place to sit’ - a love letter to my hometown.

A few years ago, I had to leave my ‘dream’ university. It felt as if I was leaving everything to come home, starting from scratch as I watched the Instagram stories of my friends with new, shiny, fun, joyous lives - they had managed what I had not. What is it that makes me so different from them? Was I not carefree and spontaneous enough? Was I not good enough for a big group of girlfriends, the sisterhood I craved but always toed the edge of?

Packing up and moving back home, I felt hopeless and fearful, after all, what was I supposed to do now? Had I wasted all this time and money just to end up back at square one? I was terrified, but everyone close to me knew I could not return to the lifestyle I had ended up living at a university that was not working for me. Thankfully, I quickly found relief that came with ‘finding a new place to sit’, even if that place was what I had left behind. I love my hometown. I always have, for all its dying shops and local nutjobs. It embodied all the best parts of my childhood: the Christmas lights turning on, the local singing competitions, the sunny Saturday morning rambles around the shops. Romanticising home, and all that came with it, is what got me through the awful times of my first university experience, and I’ll always be indebted to the places that made me who I am.

It's so often the norm to grow up and seek more for yourself, reject the place you came from in search of a bigger dream. I get it - I knew I wanted more for myself, and when I couldn’t find it, I felt like a failure. But since then, I know that I am the lucky one. How lucky am I to have a hometown I so desperately wanted to run back to? How lucky am I to have a supportive family here? Led by a mother who is so absurdly brilliant, who teaches me that unconditional love and embrace must truly exist, as I have known and loved her so deeply.

Post drop-out, I sat with my childhood best friend in the back of our high street’s Costa, mind-mapping what my new future would look like, surrounded by tiny secondary school kids out with their new freedom after school. ‘They look like us, don’t they?’

Hannah Ransom

IN MY COUNTRY THEY TRY TO FUCK GODDESSES (THEY BARTER WITH PRAYERS) TAKE THEIR NAMES IN WHISPERS (BOTH IN THE TEMPLE AND IN THE LITTLE GIRLS CRADLE) HE KNOWS HER LIKE A GAMBLER KNOWS HIS HORSE (BUT SHE WONT RUN FOR YOU LIKE SHE DOES FOR US) HE LOVES HER ENOUGH TO ASK FOR ANOTHER CHILD (BUT ALL YOUR LOVE DOES IS HURT US) IN MY COUNTRY THEY WORSHIP US TOGETHER CALLING US DIVINE (BUT REFUSE TO GRANT US THE SAME DEVOTION BEYOND THE GARBHAGRIHA) KNEEL, THE PRIEST SAYS KNEEL FOR THE IDOLS OF GODDESSES MADE FROM MUD AND PAINTED BY YOU (BUT NEVER FOR THOSE OF FLESH AND BONE) SO WE BRAID EACH OTHERS HAIR AND STITCH OUR SEAMS OUR SINDOOR IS JUST AS RED AS THE BLOOD ON OUR TEETH AND WE RISE FROM THE EARTH LIKE A WOMAN POSSESSED.

WORDS BY ROSHNI RAY DESIGN BY MERON ALEMAYEHU

words by Lauren Klief

design by Angel

Recommendations!

Read: 1. Cyberfeminism Index by Mindy Seu– This book by Professor Mindy Seu is a catalogue of entries that dissect and discuss how digital rights, activism and ‘cyberfeminism’ exists on the hegemonic force that is the internet. The data and contributions presented are also cited on the websitewww.cyberfeminismindex.com which you can spend hours on…happy scrolling!

2. Girlhood by Claire Marie Healy – this essay is a must read with a focus on portraiture and depictions of Girlhood in art from the 17th century to the present day. Also, a notable mention to the authors Instagram page @girlhoodstudies and the Girlhood column on the AnOther Magazine website; all of which offer a wide exploration of girlhood and its connection to visual media.

3. At the Pond: Swimming at the Hampstead Ladies' Pond – step away from your screen and head to the ladies pond just north of campus or with our sisters at @uclpondsoc to lay in the grass and read this impeccable collection of love letters, stories and poetic tales relating to the Ladies Pond which gloriously resides on the Heath.

4. Porn An Oral History by Polly Barton – This book unashamedly discusses the topic of pornography in a non-judgemental and honest manner. The work is distinctly structured around 19 conversations with diverse acquaintances.

5. Why Would feminists trust the police?: A Tangled history of resistance and complicity by Leah Cowan – Characterised by a particular focus on the history of Black British feminism this work of non-fiction investigates the history of British feminism’s relation to the criminal justice system and policing. A brilliant read for anyone interested in historical and modern-day instances of carceral feminism as well as a discussion of abolitionist alternatives.

6. Perfectly Imperfect Newsletter – A substack subscription that is worth clogging up your inbox. The newsletter offers “a taste of someone’s taste”, from Ayo Edebiri to Rayne Fisher-Quann. Come on, I’m sure you are dying to know Petra Collins is afraid of being abducted by Aliens and that A.G. Cook loves Toast of London.

Watch: 1. Miu Miu Women’s Tales – the PRADA Group since 2011 has commissioned 27 short films directed by renowned female filmmakers including Haifaa AlMansour, Agnes Varda and Ava DuVernay over the years. Available on YouTube for free, my favourite kind of streaming!

2. Yaeji’s Boiler Room set – epic!

3. Daughters – Documentary directed by Angela Patton and Natalie Rae – a must watch which is available on Netflix alongside a brilliantly composed soundtrack by Kelsey Lu. 4. Check out CINENOVA – a volunteer-run organisation which preserves, distributes feminist film and video makers. Make sure to catch screenings in London and join the mailing list!

Podcasts: 1. HBO Girls Rewatch Podcast 2. The Deep Read with Phoebe Lovatt 3. A World to Win with Grace Blakeley 4. Habibi Collective Podcast 5. The Worms Podcast Listen: For most music recommendations I point you to the amazing @marg.mp3 – I am obsessed with her interviews. I Trust her with my life.

1. Digging with Flo: An NTS Podcast, I like to watch this on Youtube for added joy, as Flo Dill invites musical artists onto her allotment to garden and chat. The whole format is heavenly.

2. Chippy Nonstop & dj genderfluid – this 2021 album is insanely brilliant as is Chippy Nonstop – who hosts a workshop series aimed to spotlight gender disparity in electronic music (INTERSESSIONS) – makes the most infectious piece of work in collaboration with dj genderfluid.

3. Sentiment - Claire Rousay’s 2024 album offers listeners the chance to visit a world of ambient and atmospheric reflection whilst also injecting hyperpop rest breaks.

4. Sad Lovers and Giants - Crystal Murray 5. I Saw the TV Glow Soundtrack – on repeat since it came out to accompany the magnificent A24 film directed by Jane Schoenbrun. Florist, Caroline Polachek and a Yeule cover of Anthems For a Seventeen Year Old Girl. What more could you want? recs by abby hunt

A UCL MALE FEMINIST’S GUIDE TO DATING APPS

Grad job applications and cuffing season is upon us, which means us men need to step up the game with updating the resumes and, of course, the dating app profiles!

You want to make sure you are putting your best feminist foot forward, I am here to help! After all, you don’t want to have to get back together with your ex this holiday season, regardless of how fit her mum is!

1. Choosing the photos This is your opportunity to demonstrate what we have learned about the female gaze!

Put the aesthetic photos your ex took to use. Especially the film ones! You want to get your money’s worth! #35mm for sure…be subtle in showing off your photos of you at the Pavement gig you went to two years ago. Remember these photos must remain mysteriously outdated. Talking of outdated…from watching “Pride and Prejudice” with your ex you know that women are attracted to hands, to really show off those bad boys, include a video of you DJing at Corsica and zoom in on those Pioneer decks your mum got you for Crimbo. Your agility and coordination when mixing is bound to turn her on and she will fall for your superior music taste (especially if you add some Charli XCX to the mix). When choosing photos with animals, I would opt for cats. No pictures of you holding a fish!!! While you may think that girls love a provider, a picture of a fish triggers an association with the saying “there are plenty of fish in the sea” and you want every one of your matches to feel special.

2. Prompts

Time to showcase your personality and your height. Don’t be scared to add a few inches! Now, try to captivate her with your unique interests and feminist opinions. She will definitely want to know about the time you defended Lady Macbeth’s ‘strong character’ in GCSE English. Try to show that you’re cultured.

‘I hate Ted Hughes’ is a good start. To go further, record your slam poetry and make sure to do it when you’ve just woken up so your voice is raspy. Talk about how you love women. It’s good to give an example. I chose my mum. She is an etalon of a true girlboss: raising a son like me, while financially supporting the whole family. Try to show that you’re in touch with your emotions and diversify the dating pool by including all 5 love languages. Don’t mention you like physical touch! You want her to choose you and not the bear!

3. Messaging Craft a good opening line. To save time, you can create one that fits many profiles. ‘Your vibe is so cool! What’s your star sign?’ This is your opening to send her your birth chart, add each other on CoStar and convince her that you’re compatible! DON’T DO THIS IF YOU’RE A GEMINI! Women don’t like that in men. Try not to make compliments about her appearance. A simple ‘You look like a Lana del Rey song’ will suffice. Beforehand try to memorise a couple unreleased songs in case she asks, Summertime Sadness won’t cut it anymore.

Don’t wait for her to ask about your favourite singer. Charm her straight away with your knowledge of Jeff Buckley’s discography. Women LOVE sensitive guys, plus she won’t be able to accuse you of not dropping hints that you’re still not over your ex. When asking her on a date, be original. She’s definitely never been to a Tate Late or to see a Kubrick film at the Prince Charles Cinema with such a cultured guy as yourself!

4. First Date Ok boys! MUBI tote bag at the ready. When you first see her make sure to ask her to show you her camera roll. Women love when you take interest in them.

Don’t forget to show her yours. Try to be low maintenance. You are trying to go on a lot of first dates, so you need to take care of yourself! Maybe hit up the familiar spots, where the bar staff may recognise you and give you a discount. Or just let her pay and feel like an empowered woman! If it's sunny, take her on a picnic but don’t bring anything: you want her to be comfortable and eat her favourite stuff. You could mention how you were thinking of getting some wine or flowers for her. She’ll love how thoughtful you are. If she’s cold, offer her your jacket but be visibly uncomfortable, so she gives it back. Again, it’s the thought that counts! Women love romance, so make sure to play some of your music when you take her home.

Whether it be the new mix you’ve made, your electric guitar or just your TV Girl record. Keep eye contact the whole time. You don't want her to feel neglected and create uncomfortable tension! Make her comfortable by displaying your feminist literature or start some ‘healthy’ debate. You want her to know that she’s safe in your home but you are also the most intellectually stimulating guy ever!!! Top tip: Hide Morrissey’s autobiography and replace it with bell hooks on the bedside table, so you don’t run out of conversation topics during pillow talk.

5. After the date You want to make her feel appreciated. Tell her last night was as beautiful as Wong Kar-wai visuals or just opt for ‘Before Sunrise’...such a classic bro! Before ghosting her, make her a spotify playlist (do a spotify blend if it's been a long week) and tell her you want her to meet your mum. She could learn a thing or two from the woman that raised such a feminist. Don't be upset that it had to end. Afterall there are only so many male feminists to go around and we need to make sure that as many women as possible have had the experience of being with us. Make sure to carry on following her on instagram and like the odd story every now and then, keep it friendly xxx Stay safe out there bro, Love RMF xxx

check out our playlist on spotify!

Acknowledgements Co-Editor & Graphics Editor: Abby Hunt Co-Editor: Anastasia Afanaseva Cover art: Una Ahn Writers: Lara Abrahams Laura Ziehems Laura Klief Ava Tehrani Gia Yianni Izzie Moull Klara Kozlayova Kelly Karamanol Dizzy Lodge Anisha Mukerjee Mattea Carberry Tala Sofia Briones Roshni Ray Lara Weeks Hannah Ranson Armiya Sultan Abby Hunt Coryn Gyimah Amber Rowlands Residential Male Feminist (RMF)

Artwork, Photography & Graphics: Anna-May Slowie Meron Alemayehu Anastasia Afanaseva Maria Kliuchnikova Angel Mather Abby Hunt Hena Yaman Malvika Murkumbi Community contributors: Iona Ekin Laura Li Rhi Armiya Amelia Kelly Soraya Kitsch Zine Family

Huge thank you to our friends at Cheesegrater & a special thank you President - Lily - for being so brilliant!

UCL Women’s Wrongs Zine Issue 12 Winter 2025