A lot of people – readers and writers alike – would have had a nasty jolt on seeing that the pioneering journalist Katharine Whitehorn has died, aged 92. Maybe “lady” newspaper columnists like myself felt a particular stab of loss. There’s no doubt Whitehorn inspired whole generations of female columnists but, first, she pretty much invented us all.
Whitehorn was one of those journalists, that special breed, who singlehandedly yet almost casually sparked an entire newspaper genre, then spent their career embodying the best of it. It was Whitehorn, in her groundbreaking Observer column, starting in the 1960s, who liberated the true female voice. I say “true” not as in a pastiche of the serious-minded male commentators who dominated that era. Nor as some idealised superwoman whose byline existed purely to make every other female feel woefully lacking. Definitely not as some gobby opinion-monger without portfolio (why are you all looking at me?).
Whitehorn’s writing aimed to reflect the times she was living in and it was defiantly human, female liberal, sane, amused, authentic and often revolutionary in its candid audacity. In her classic book, Cooking in a Bedsitter, she talked about grim landladies, shared bathrooms and cooking kippers. In one of her most famous articles, “Sluts”, she dryly appealed to her chosen tribe of female reprobates: “Those who have ever changed their stockings in a taxi, brushed their hair with someone’s nailbrush or safety-pinned a hem.”
In this way, Whitehorn was an instinctive and valuable feminist voice. One way to do womankind a favour is to take the sting out of our omnipresent anxieties and imagined inadequacies. She had a gift (and it is a gift) for evoking the pathos and humour of chaotic female life and for making women especially (though by no means exclusively) relate and laugh. Whitehorn made women of her generation feel “seen”, and she continues to do so decades later. Many of the pithy musings in “Sluts” and elsewhere resonate strongly today.
I came across Cooking in a Bedsitter at a time when pretty much everyone I knew was either squatting in near-derelict buildings or living in heroically squalid bedsitters. At one boyfriend’s place, you could lean over a battered Formica counter, stick the kettle on and stir a pan of baked beans on a Baby Belling hotplate, all without leaving the bed. My first cultural reference for the grime and fizz (and giggles) of those kinds of times, that kind of life, would be Soft Cell’s Bedsitter, but Whitehorn’s book, written decades earlier, would also make the list.
Was this Whitehorn’s secret, her enduring superpower? Her background (Roedean educated) looked relatively posh, but she was the consummate everywoman and – crucially for some of us – an “every voice” too. Over the years, I’ve had a variety of people hear that I’m from the Observer and make a point of praising Whitehorn, from the late novelist Doris Lessing to “Emily Bishop” (played by Eileen Derbyshire), who stopped me in the corridor of the Coronation Street studio to express admiration for her.
Then there are the hordes of journalists who’d cite Whitehorn as a major influence. From her early days to her later writings on ageing, Whitehorn was a cultural trailblazer, a female voice who made writing for a living look not only enjoyable, but also accessible and doable, regardless of where you came from and what you wanted to write about.
What Whitehorn did wasn’t the now ubiquitous “confessional journalism” as such, but it was close enough to make you realise with a shudder that there was once a dark and terrible time when the unleashed female voice was barely heard in British journalism. Whitehorn changed all that. She created a need for female-fuelled journalism. She cemented the market that clamoured for it. She created a safe space for all stripes of women writers to write and… breathe. On behalf of all the “sluts” who followed, RIP, Ms Whitehorn, and thanks.
Women’s pandemic plight is nothing new
Photograph: Image Source/Getty Images/Vetta
Women, particularly mothers, continue to be disproportionately economically affected by lockdown. What a surprise. A survey carried out by women’s organisations, including the Women’s Budget Group and the Fawcett Society, reports that almost twice as many mothers (15%) as fathers say they will be forced to take unpaid leave owing to school closures. Moreover, 49% of mothers can work from home (WFH), compared with 57% of fathers.
As shown by previous studies, other women are badly affected by lockdown, including the youngest and the poorest. Women are more likely to be let go (11%) at the end of furlough schemes than men (9%), while depression is rising among young women at a rate of three times that of young men.
This is not to demonise men. Presumably, most childcare decisions would be taken by the couple together and it can’t be helped that certain types of work are more compatible with WFH than others. However, with yet another study highlighting the plight of women in the pandemic, the government must further demonstrate that it understands the obvious gender divide at the societal heart of Covid.
This is not just about the increased likelihood of women now losing out on employment, earnings and career advancement right now. Some of this has deeper and wider roots than the pandemic. Women in the UK are generally considered to be more expendable in the workforce and typically are the ones to stay at home with children in a crisis. These are age-old economic chauvinism narratives playing out, just in a new, extreme setting. Those women affected will be experiencing many feelings, but “surprised” won’t be one of them.
I can read Grant Shapps like an open book
Is the transport secretary, Grant Shapps, a bookshelf Zoom-toady? In interviews about the assault on the Capitol, Shapps’s bookshelf prominently displayed Pete Buttigieg’s memoir, Shortest Way Home. Buttigieg is Joe Biden’s choice for transportation secretary. What an amazing coincidence.
Even if Shapps felt it was prudent to mug up on his US counterpart, then he’d still be reading the book and it wouldn’t be on the bookshelf… right? Or, perhaps (and “perhaps” is doing some heavy lifting here), Shapps is a fast reader. Then again, the book faces outoutwards, which seems a strange waste of shelf space for a voracious reader.
In the interviews, Shapps condemned the events in Washington, proving that people can learn and grow. Not so long ago, Shapps refused to criticise Donald Trump for saying that people should inject themselves with bleach to prevent coronavirus. As a side note, fans of Shapps’s lockdown interviews must be delighted that he’s still displaying a “GRANT SHAPPS” banner, presumably as a form of autocue for when the public forgets who he is.
Could bookshelf-whispering catch on? Next time I interview someone, I’ll be sure to needily display their oeuvre behind me in order to ingratiate myself. Shapps just better hope that Buttigieg gets the transportation gig or his bookshelf will have some explaining to do.