Would it have happened were she a man?

Many who like to think of themselves as feminists welcomed Hillary Clinton's announced candidacy. It was certainly about time a woman ran for President and reassuring that this one seemed destined to be a winner. 

But then she and her team got scared and it became almost impossible not to cool towards a woman who appeared to be showing more and more of her aggressive, sniping feathers. Equally a sense of unease began to sprout as to the behavior of her increasingly tempestuous husband.

But how ashamed of this should those who deserted her feel? It might be worth considering how her aggressive and statesman-like campaign have been received were she a man. 

Throughout history the assertive woman becomes the shrew, particularly characterised by her reaction, often regarded as hostile and ungracious,  when under-threat. True, many of her comments were ill-judged. But so too were those of Obama and virtually ever other Presidential candidate one can think of to mention. 

Margaret Thatcher often met with criticism in her early days for what she put down to the female qualities in her voice which made her sound shrill and grating when perhaps a man would have just come across as convicted in his message. 

But there are other factors too which forced Hilary out of the 'liberal progressive choice' box and into the role of 'dragon'. Her rival stole her platform of challenging history and implicated her in his attacks on the establishment. Consequently she was forced onto the defensive and into what came across as a negatively charged campaign. 

It almost feels as if it was too late for Hilary. Whether America is ready for a female president is no longer the issue - it is far more interesting, and a challenging to see whether it is ready for a black one. But then, so far evidence suggests the answer to the first question is still 'no'.

There seems to be a disturbing kind of bullying going on amongst women of a certain age and, dare I say it, a certain class. Gym snobbery.
Yesterday I went to the sort of gym I cannot afford to be a member of as a guest. It was the sort of place frequented by women who have not yet reached the official age of retirement, but perhaps still 'play' at a job every once in a while until their husbands stop working.
In the changing rooms I noticed a woman, skinnier than me, but at least twice my age, who had been examining herself in the mirror for about 15 minutes. Though her ribs stuck out, her body was still a bit curvy lower down, as is largely the case for those over 50. Another woman breezed through. She was extremely tall and had the uncomfortable resemblance of someone having been stretched. She had just been to the gym.
"Julie!", she exclaimed to the slightly more human woman. "Good to see you. We're going to the gym again later. You should come. "I don't think I can", replied the other, meekly, looking weary with exhaustion from her recent session. The tall one said: "Oh, do you still go? You don't seem to.... well, are you not getting there anymore?" The other said nothing and looked at her feet. "I know it is hard. Do try to get to the gym" she crooned before sweeping off.

Twittering

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/connected/main.jhtml?xml=/connected/2008/04/12/dlclaud112.xml



The idea of commenting on events in real time undoubtedly has its merits. Humans are sociable creatures by nature and so sharing experiences is one of the most natural things we can do. We're also incredibly forgetful, so the idea of immediate recording means a lot of inspiring thoughts or amusing annecdotes are less likely to be lost or weakened in the time lag between an event and logging on (or picking up a pen if you're a traditionalist). But there would also seem to be an increasing danger of weakining the experience itself, particularly when the event is something designed to fill and absorb the witness for a set time period - such as in art. Going to a play and being able to discuss a scene with other audience members while sitting in the auditorium may heighten the sense of being at a shared theatrical event, a concept fundamental to many contemporary dramateurs, but the very act of communication breaks the circle of concentration into which the production aims to seduce its audience.



The magic spell, which enables punters to laugh or cry is easily broken by someone in the row behind unsubtly offering around toffee eclairs, let alone telling you she thinks the actor on the left has his wig on wonky. It's hard to feel real empathy with a character once you become aware of the artifice of production.