Through the Looking-Glass, and What Vogue Found There

Anyone who knows me will know of my all-consuming love affair with Vogue magazine. A long-term subscriber, at the beginning of each month I can be found crouching by the letter box awaiting my next fix of fashion, the magazine which satisfies my cravings for glossy images of the perfection and luxury which is so absent in my everyday life. In a room covered in wall-to-wall mess, clothes strewn haphazardly on the floor, my extensive collection of Vogue magazines can be found in pristine condition, lovingly arranged, chronologically, on their own special shelf: a pocket of order in a world full of chaos.

It is the preoccupation with wealth and beauty which draws me month after month to Vogue’s shining pages. Here there is no sadness, no ugliness, no poverty or disease, only page after page of thin, shiny, beautiful people, people who can afford to spend thousands of pounds on a snakeskin clutch and still feel guilt-free enough to giggle photogenically into their glasses of Moët. These are the upper classes, the unobtainable ones, the ones we are all supposed to want to be.

Imagine my surprise, then, when the cover of October Vogue proudly declared a feature not on yet another society-skipping princess, but someone rather less high-class: Amy Childs, “the ultimate Essex girl”, star of the wonderfully tacky ITV show The Only Way is Essex. At last, I thought. Finally an acknowledgement that there are people in existence outside of London’s super-rich, rather than sweeping the working classes under the proverbial (100% new wool, daaahling) rug. I wondered what she might have to say for herself, away from the harsh glare of reality TV limelight.

However, my surprise soon turned to disbelief after skimming through the page-long feature on the most famous of Essex girls. Instead of the candid interview with Amy I was expecting, the feature was in fact a 1000-word treatise on why the writer, the notorious Giles Coren, would love the opportunity to have sex with Amy Childs. Or someone like her. The distinction was not important. “The girl wouldn’t necessarily have to be Amy,” he says. “Chloe Sims would do… or, in fact, any old beautician under 60 born within a white stretch-limo ride of Basildon.”

There are several reasons why I was mystified and disgusted by this article. Firstly, and most obviously, was the way in which working class women, usually ignored completely by Vogue, were represented merely in terms of their sexuality. The working class woman was essentially rendered as a physical commodity, a sexual object for consumption by the upper middle classes. “For every man who dreamed of Pippa Middleton,” Coren writes, “there was another who dreamed of waking up hot and sweaty in the orange glow of Amy Childs’s copper-coloured nakedness, in a bed crunchy with rhinestones and false eyelashes.” 

This graphic physical description continues throughout the article. Constant references are made to breast enlargement (or“artificial jubblies”) and loose sexual morals. All the while Amy stares out sadly and silently from the opposite page, denied a voice of her own. The magazine is full of page after page of interviews with the high-class elites, the superstars, the designers, the social butterflies, but the working class girl is not allowed to speak. Her words have no value; only her body is important. The ultimate message of his article is that Coren, as a middle class male, longs for a sexual encounter with a working class woman. Or, as he most delicately phrases it, some “proletarian bump and grind”.

As a girl from the part of the south east of England which isn’t London (yes Vogue, there is such a place), I found this depiction of working class girls offensive. Yes, we do exist, but we are not in existence merely to satisfy the sexual cravings of the capital’s wealthy and private-schooled. Just because we cannot afford to buy your diamond-encrusted jewellery and hand-stitched leather handbags, it does not mean that we ourselves are up for sale. Vogue is packed from cover to cover with advertisements for beautiful things. It just offends me that the body of a working class girl has become yet another product being sold as part of the glossy and glamorous lifestyle which magazines such as Vogue encourage their readers to buy into.

It is true that fashion has loved and lauded many a girl from a less-than-privileged background. The humble Croydon origins of Kate Moss provide one such example. However, it seems that fashion only embraces these women after they escape from their non-glamorous birthplaces and ascend the social ladder to the heady heights of London, Milan, New York and Paris. Wealth makes people far more interesting. Perhaps, if you make enough money, you might even be allowed to – gasp - tell people what you think about things, rather than being judged purely on your appearance or sexual prowess.
 

So perhaps this article has changed the way I look at my beloved Vogue. Perhaps now I will be more aware of its snobbery and elitism, and its obsession with the young, the rich and the beautiful. Perhaps I will boycott it in protest of its unfair portrayal of the ‘lower’ classes. Perhaps you will not find me, in the next few days, hovering by the letterbox awaiting its arrival. But, I am ashamed to admit, even with an article as crass and offensive as Coren’s, there still seems to be no remedy for my insatiable addiction to Vogue. It is more than likely that in the next few days you will find me once again peering through the looking glass, searching for my self.

Preserving Palestinian heritage one stitch at a time

This article was originally published by The Electronic Intifada, 15 August 2011



Nawal Salameh, founder of the Women in Hebron cooperative. Photo: Fil Kaler


A walk through the markets of the Old City in Hebron is a sobering reminder of the effects of the Israeli occupation on the everyday lives of Palestinians. Though the city is deep in the occupied West Bank, more than 600 Jewish settlers have established themselves in several settlements inside Hebron’s town center. The streets of the Old City have been caged in mesh and are full of bricks, bottles and garbage hurled down by settlers in the houses above — an act silently authorized under the watchful yet passive gaze of the ever-present Israeli military.

The military has become a formidable presence in Hebron. The often violent settlers are protected by up to 2,000 soldiers and a combination of military checkpoints, watchtowers, roadblocks, iron gates and shop closures have had a dire effect on Hebron’s economy. Movement restrictions have tightened since the second intifada, making trading almost impossible for the Palestinians and turning a once bustling and thriving marketplace into a ghost town. Streets of shops lie empty and padlocked, and soaring unemployment and a dwindling population make this West Bank city one of the bitterest casualties of the continuing occupation.

Yet in these deserted streets, there are flickers of enterprise and hope. A few businesses still survive in the old marketplace, among them Women in Hebron, a shop and cooperative in the heart of the city, selling traditional Palestinian crafts such as kuffiyehs (checkered scarves), embroidered dresses, cushions, bags and wall hangings, along with slightly less traditional items, including purses emblazoned with the slogan “Women Can Do Anything.” All of the products have been handmade by local women, many of whom rely solely on the cooperative for their income.

Emily Lawrence interviewed the cooperative’s founder, Nawal Salameh, about the challenges and opportunities facing Women in Hebron today.

Emily Lawrence: How did you come up with the idea of the Women in Hebron cooperative?

Nawal Salameh: Our project started eight years ago. I was at home without work, and it was the first thing I could think to do without leaving my home and my two small children. I did a lot of embroidery designs and I collected many traditional items, thinking one day I could sell them. In Hebron, even if I finished university it was hard to get a job that I wanted. I had done volunteer work for a long time so I had to do something to bring in money without having to leave my children.

EL: And how did it grow into the cooperative we see today?

NS: I started out by myself and then shared the idea with my friends. I brought together groups of women in the same situation as me to try to help them sell their work. Then I tried to source a place to market our work and found a shop in the Old City. Day by day people started to hear about the only women’s shop in the Old City in Hebron, and many women from the nearby villages came to ask for help. Soon I was selling for 120 women from eight villages around Hebron.

EL: What do you think are some of the most immediate concerns of women in the West Bank and specifically in Hebron?

NS: Women around here are concerned about the occupation continuing. How about our children? Will they suffer like us or will there be peace soon? Will women have more rights than they have now? Some of our women know prisoners. Is there any hope for those in prison? Can we work together to remove the wall? All we want is a free Palestine.

EL: It is obvious to any visitor to Hebron that the Israeli occupation and the presence of settlers have had severe consequences for businesses in the area. What are the main challenges you face in the day-to-day running of the business?

NS: Our shop in the Old City of Hebron has been affected by the occupation, like the whole of Palestine. There is a settler tour every Saturday passing through the old souq [market] to the [Kiryat Arba] settlement. Many times they have created problems, with more than thirty soldiers to protect them from the Palestinians. The other problem is that the shop is close to the settlement, so there are often problems. When the news says there are problems, they scare people from coming to the Old City. It’s a tourist place but there are no tourists, so there is not much business in the Old City. It’s always the same story: don’t go to Hebron because it’s a dangerous place. But I say, come and talk to the people, you will like it very much. We are not going anywhere. This is Hebron and this is the Old City and this is our way to resist all these challenges.

EL: Your website (www.womeninhebron.com) says that one of your main objectives is to preserve Palestinian cultural heritage. Why is it so important that this heritage is maintained? Do you see this cooperative as a form of resistance to Israel’s occupation?

NS: Embroidery is something we take from our mothers and grandmothers. My mother taught me how to do the embroidery when I was small, and she did the same with my other four sisters, to make sure each of us could keep the Palestinian heritage alive. We take the designs from the old dresses of our mothers and our grandmothers. My mother’s work is better than my work. It’s a little different because we do traditional work but we alter it for international taste. I use the same patterns but in a new way.
When we first started to sell we found Hebron’s Old City was closed. A lot of owners had left in the second intifada and had forgotten about it. I liked the idea of staying there, kind of showing our resistance in the Old City.

EL: What next for Women in Hebron? Are your products available internationally?

NS: We are working on opening a new organization in my town, Idna, for women’s handmade products. We will open as soon as we get permission [from the Palestinian Authority]. And we want our organization to be one of the strongest in Palestine, with your help and support. Our work is available internationally and we are ready to come to the UK if someone invites us. We also invite volunteers to stay with us and participate in the work of the cooperative. I love embroidery and that’s why I feel I will succeed in this work. We are planning for a good future.

Bad Hair Days and Boycotts: Water Distribution and Settlement Goods in the West Bank

My hair was inexplicable, and I was late for work. Perhaps from the heat, instead of falling sleekly about my shoulders, my hair had formed a huge cloud of untameable frizz. I did what anyone would do in this situation: I decided to take a swift shower.

Turning on the tap, I was met with a trickle, a splutter, and the horrifying realisation that there was no water today, and I would have to face going to work with less-than-perfect hair.

I was in Bethlehem, in the West Bank, and my Bad Hair Day was part of a much bigger problem: the frequent water shortages in Palestinian territory, due to Israeli control of water resources. Whilst the taps frequently run dry for Palestinians, the residents of nearby Israeli settlements enjoy the luxury of lush green lawns, trees, flowerbeds, swimming pools, and long showers, as well as the ability to freely irrigate their land and grow bountiful crops.

According to Emergency Water Sanitation and Hygiene in the Palestinian Territory (EWASH), an international NGO dedicated to monitoring the water situation in the Gaza Strip and West Bank, Israel has the final say over the distribution of all water resources in the West Bank, both above and below ground. Palestinians are given rights to only 20%, with the remaining 80% allocated to Israel.

EWASH also estimates that the average Palestinian consumption of water is 50 litres per person per day, well under the 100 litres a day recommended by the World Health Organisation. Israelis, on the other hand, consume almost four times as much water as Palestinians, highlighting yet another way in which society’s scales are tipped in Israel’s favour. Settlements are deliberately built on fertile land near vital water sources, over which Israel has total control.

As well as inconveniencing the local population, the lack of reliable water access has economic implications for the Palestinians. With a limited water supply comes a limited scope for growing crops. The majority of watermelons available in Palestinian markets, for example, come from Israeli settlements, despite the fact that it is illegal: Palestinian farmers simply don’t have access to the quantities of water necessary to grow them.

Settlement goods are one clear manifestation of the land and water grab in the West Bank. Produce such as dates, avocadoes and oranges are grown illegally using confiscated water and sold to the international market, funding the expansion of Israeli settlements in Palestinian lands.

One obvious response to the illegal and unethical practice of growing goods using stolen land and stolen water is to boycott produce from Israeli settlements. In Britain, supermarkets are now required by law to label goods produced in Israeli settlements in the West Bank to help ethical customers make better choices, and some supermarkets have stopped selling them altogether.

Many organisations call for the boycott of settlement goods, since such goods are universally recognised as being in breach of international and domestic law. The Palestine Solidarity Campaign, for example, aims to better educate the consuming public and encourages petitions to supermarkets, calling on them to stop stocking illegal Israeli goods until the occupation is ended.

A labelling system for settlement goods, similar to the British one, is a wise idea. It would be hugely beneficial if a similar system could be introduced in other countries, including Israel, in order to encourage consumers to buy more responsibly. However, the recent anti-boycott law passed in Israel adds extra difficulty to this campaign. The law, passed by the Knesset last week, makes it a civil offence for any public body in Israel to advocate the boycotting of Israeli goods, whether culturally, politically, or economically.

This new law is a flagrant impingement on freedom of speech and expression, and makes it almost impossible for organisations in Israel to campaign on behalf of Palestinians whose land and water are being confiscated to supply settlements with the resources to grow their produce. The denial of access to water is a blatant injustice, and all should have the right to be able to boycott that which they deem to be unjust.

The anti-boycott bill seems to be born out of the fear that if the boycott movement continues to gather momentum, Israel may be forced to bow to pressure to make policy changes, particularly regarding the illegal settlements in the West Bank.

Now back in Britain, I have the luxury of knowing that if I go to take a shower or turn on a tap there will be a ready flow of water. But access to water should not be a luxury, it is a basic right, and one which is being denied to Palestinians in order to nurture an illegal network of settlements and tighten Israeli control over stolen lands.

Despite the setback of the anti-boycott bill, it is vital that consumers are enabled to make educated decisions. If more can be added to the movement against settlement goods, and if more speak out against the daily injustices against the Palestinians, then Israel may soon find itself in hot water.

This article was first published by Palestine News Network, 17 July 2011.