Engender blog

GUEST POST: On Faith and Feminism

Rose Richmond is a 21 year old graduate from Stirling University. She blogs here about finding her faith, the misconceptions facing Muslim women.

“The woman who does not require validation from anyone is the most feared individual on the planet”

Mohadesa Najumi

GUEST POST: The Unwelcome Feminist

Fai Yousaf regularly blogs over at Life of Fai and here she writes for On the Engender about her views on feminism and the hijab.

You can follow Fai on Twitter at Life_0f_Fai

“You’re destroying any progress women have made by wearing that on your head”

By that, they don’t mean the back combed hell that I attempt on occasion nor my oversized pom pom hat – both of which, it can be argued, should be banned. It is the hijab/head scarf which often evokes such strong responses from some of my female counterparts. The word hijab is more widely associated with the head covering Muslim women wear and for the purpose of this article, I’ll translate it as such. However in reality, the word encompasses a way of being, behind which is the principle of modesty and not only applies to females but men too.

Guest post: Reflections on the Intersection Between Race and Gender in Public Life

Briana Pegado is the Founder and Director of the Edinburgh Student Arts Festival. During Black History Month she appeared on a panel to discuss the film Confirmation, which tells the story of Anita Hill's testimony against Supreme Court Nominee Clarence Thomas.

Here, she reflects on the themes raised by the film.

Guest Post: Bold with Banana Foams, Fragile like Terracotta

Today on the blog we are marking #16daysofactivism and hosting an anonymous piece, reflecting on the writer's lived experience of emotional abuse and coercive control. This piece is a response to a recent workshop for survivors at the Glasgow Women's Library. You can find out more about Glasgow Women's Library and view their upcoming programme of events here.

They told me to make a balloon, to colour with all the shades of dawn, to draw the smells of a forest in autumn, to go ice-fishing, to set up my own household. But you’d punctured that balloon and deflated my life: deprived me of the smells of the forest, melted the ice in case it might bring me joy, and I’d already wasted six months designing our household, except I didn’t realise that household was only meant for you, that it was built on eggshells, shaped exactly for you and your moods – a room specifically for those, even. A room for your heavy breathing and stern frowns and eyes that will cut right through a person. A room I would have once used for my paintings (but you told me you’d never want one of those so I threw away the one I was secretly working on for your birthday).