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For parents who have been enjoying the freedom of living child-free, now comes research to spoil it all
The bedrooms have been redecorated in grown-up colours, the 25-year-old soft toys chucked out, the washing machine is blissfully underused and, thanks to the apparent current raging addictions of baby boomers, a holiday or two – cruising in the Med, the Antarctic, anywhere that avoids dry land – have been booked. And then they’re back.
According to a recent study by the London School of Economics (LSE), adult children who return to the family home after a period away – often at university – cause a significant decline in their parents’ quality of life and wellbeing.
I was a terrible mother, a great mother. Pregnancy changes everything: our body, our feelings, the hierarchical order of our lives. The convention by which we have always considered ourselves one and indivisible fails. Now we have two hearts, all our organs are duplicated, our sex is doubled – we are female plus female or female plus male. And we are divisible, not metaphorically but in the acute reality of our body.
The first time I got pregnant, it was difficult to accept. Pregnancy was an anxious mental struggle. I felt it as the breakdown of an equilibrium already precarious in itself, as a revelation of the animal nature behind the fragile mask of the human. For nine months I was on a seesaw of joy and horror. The birth was terrible, it was wonderful. Taking care of a newborn, by myself, without help, without money, exhausted me; I hardly slept. I wanted to write and there was never time. Or if there was some, I would concentrate for a few minutes and then fall asleep fretfully. Until slowly everything began to seem to me marvellous. Today I think that nothing is comparable to the joy, the pleasure, of bringing another living creature into the world.
Of course, it took a lot of time away from my passion for writing. As a girl I’d imagined myself without children, entirely absorbed by my own yearnings. I admired women who were childless by choice, and I still understand the rejection of maternity. What I can no longer tolerate is the lack of understanding for women who do everything possible to get pregnant. In the past I had an ironic attitude, I thought: if you want children so much, adopt them. Today I think that the most extraordinary thing in my life was to conceive and give birth.
Men have always been jealous of that experience which is ours alone, and often dreamed – in myths, in certain rites – of forms of male pregnancy. Not only that: they immediately appropriated conception and birth metaphorically. They conceive ideas, give birth to works. And they have convinced us that since we already had the animal prerogative of maternity, the profoundly human prerogative of giving form to the world through sublime works was theirs alone.
But now we are demonstrating that we, too, are capable of metaphoric births, shadows are looming over maternity that seem to me threatening. A uterus can be bought. And among the countless prosthetic devices that will advance the connotations of the human there is one, the artificial uterus, that will free us from the annoyances of pregnancy.
I believe that in this case we should absolutely not be freed. Children are our body’s great, marvellous prostheses, and we will not give them literally to anyone, not to mad fathers, not to the country, not even to those machines that promise an inhumanly perfect humanity.
• Translated by Ann Goldstein.
The problem with the science of diet is that if you’re only partially interested, gobbets of information go in and stick, surrounded by great gaps that you fill by whistling and not quite caring. So, I know that the microbial environment of the gut is crucial to good health and longevity. And that fermentation is vital to the gut, though I didn’t realise how vital until I spoke to Tim Spector, professor of genetics and author of The Diet Myth. It’s part of a suite of things that are good for you, along with “low-salt” and “very green”. “The complexity of adding fermentation to any food, as well as adding 10 times more flavour, releases more chemicals into the food; and the more chemicals there are, the more likely they are to be helpful to the body.”
The process works differently depending on the food type, but there are a few key principles; you can’t just pickle, you have to pickle in brine, not vinegar, because acid kills everything. The English were left behind by fermentation, having prematurely fallen in love with vinegar, which is why we’re not as hardy as the Hungarians. Problematically, if you like your health awareness with a side order of self-flagellation, fermentation is quite delicious.
Flat Three is a Swedish/Japanese fusion restaurant in London where they ferment in-house and pair their pickles with fermented juices, though you can have wine, if you like, because that’s also fermented. Miso looms large, but the flavour bomb is meju, a fermented bean paste to which you can add brine to turn it into doenjang, or fermentation squared. Something incredible happens to celery and cabbage pickled in brine: the intensity of flavour is like a dream, or the beginning of a stroke.
Kombucha, the black tea, is brewed from a live culture called a scoby; Merlin (of course the restaurant guy’s called Merlin) has a culture at home that was his grandmother’s (though we may have been talking about a yoghurt by then; something in the ineffable proliferation of the microbes makes it hard to track which superfood you’re on). “Did you get the scoby?” Spector asks. “I bought a kombucha in Hackney at the weekend [of course it was in Hackney], and it had this little blob of microbes and fungi, all living together, at the bottom.”
That living community will react with your own microbes to produce something new. But they’ve recently found that the microbes don’t even have to be alive: chocolate and sourdough both undergo fermentation, which is long dead by the time you eat it, but they’re still good for you, because the process has started breaking down the food before you try to digest it.
“We can’t prove it yet,” Spector says, “but there’s a theory that even dead microbes can have a signalling effect, that makes your own microbes want to copy them.” I started to think of my gut as like a 1990s rave, the mad vivacity of partially intelligent life forms all mimicking each other. It’s a strangely hedonic health kick.
What I learned
A British Gut survey of 3,000 people found there is not much to choose between vegetarians and non-vegetarians, but there is a clear difference between people who eat a varied diet and those who don’t
A quarter of young adults in the UK live with their parents. Three families talk about the effects
A report this week found that young adults who return to the family home can have a negative impact on their parents’ quality of life. The London School of Economics study found that about a quarter of young adults in the UK now live with their parents – the highest number since records began in 1996 – as a consequence of spiralling housing costs and poor job security. We talked to three families affected by the “boomerang” generation about life in household with young adults.
Oxford University has said it is “deeply sorry” after a female cleaner was pictured removing chalk graffiti saying “Happy International Women’s Day”.
Sophie Smith, the associate professor of political theory at University College, shared a picture of the scene on Twitter, writing: “What an image for #IWD.”
The university replied to the professor in a tweet saying the incident should not have happened. “We are deeply sorry for this and for offence caused. International Women’s Day is hugely important to Oxford. This should not have happened.”
Smith thanked the university for the apology but said she hoped the cleaner, whose face she obscured in her tweet, received “a heartfelt apology”. She called on the university to ensure that all low-paid staff at the institution earned enough money to live in Oxford.
“I appreciate your apology, but far more importantly can you please make sure that the woman asked to remove the message receives a heartfelt apology, a warm cup of tea, the rest of the day off and, along with all our precarious staff, good enough pay to live in this city,” she replied.
Garrick Taylor, a laboratory manager at Oxford University and the president of the Oxford UCU union, said the symbolism of the image was key to the debate.
“During a peaceful International Women’s Day rally. A low paid and probably precariously employed female cleaner was sent out in the freezing cold to clean chalk writing saying Happy International Women’s Day. Did it have to be removed? Then?,” he wrote.
But others were baffled by the university’s decision to apologise. “Are you for real? I’m assuming it’s her job as a cleaner. Why would she get an apology and the rest of the day off? That’s bizarre,” wrote one.
It’s a drizzly, cold evening in January. The steps outside 11 Rathbone Place, a five-storey Georgian townhouse just off London’s Oxford Street, are covered in brick dust and the door – nondescript, black, chipped – has electrical tape stuck to it. A slogan plastered across the huge front windows paraphrases Virginia Woolf: “A woman must have money and a room of her own.” I press the bell, which looks broken; there’s silence followed by laughter and a clatter. The door flies open, and there stands Debbie Wosskow clad head to toe in red sequins. “Come in!” she grins, a human glitterball in the midst of a building site. “And welcome to the AllBright Club!” This “hard hat tour” is obviously a far more glamorous affair than I’ve dressed for.
Wosskow (a 42-year-old entrepreneur who sold her company, Love Home Swap, last summer for £40m) and her business partner Anna Jones (41-year-old ex-CEO of the magazine publisher Hearst) have been furiously busy since late last year, when they announced plans to open a women-only private members’ club. Tonight they will host a party for 150 of the 400 founder members – Wosskow calls them women “of all ages and all stages” – who were chosen by a panel to ensure a diversity of professions, ages, ethnicities and experience. Seventy per cent of applicants said their reason for wanting to join was “building their network of other women”. The AllBright has already attracted actors Naomie Harris and Ruth Wilson, Mobo awards founder Kanya King, Martha Lane Fox, Sarah Brown and women from business, politics, media, business and fashion; Wosskow and Jones’s goal is a total membership of 1,000, paying £50 a month.
“The name comes from that amazing Madeleine Albright quote,” says Wosskow. “You know the one: ‘There is a special place in hell for women who don’t help each other.’ Those words really resonate with Anna and me.”
The club is undecorated and devoid of furniture – it won’t open officially for two months – but the scale of their ambition is clear. “All the rooms are named after Bloomsbury feminists,” says Wosskow. “We just had to, because of the area’s links to women like Virginia Woolf. The interiors will be inspired by that time, too.”
From the art on the walls to the hand wash in the toilets, the AllBright will champion female talent and female-led businesses, Wosskow explains. Beth Greenacre (who curated David Bowie’s art collection) will be selecting work by British female artists for the club. As well as places to hold meetings, work stations, a blow-dry bar, a yoga studio and a bar and kitchen, there will be talks, exhibitions, debates and networking events.
It is not unique in its aims. In London alone, women-only centres include the We Heart Mondays co-working and community space; the Sorority, which counts presenter Katie Derham and film-maker Gurinder Chadha among its members; and the well-to-do Grace Belgravia.
So why now?
“The data speaks for itself,” Wosskow says. “In 2016, only 2.17% of all capital raised went to female-led businesses. Only one in six people in senior leadership positions within corporations are female. One in 10 women say they want to start their own business – but they don’t. Why is that? When people accuse clubs like ours of sexism, I let the stats do the talking. When women have 50/50 representation, then we’ll hang up our stilettos.”
Jones cites another motivation: research by management consultants McKinsey & Co. “We know that women get better qualifications than men when they come out of education,” she says, “and this research showed that when women arrive in the workplace, 50% say they have ambition. Within two years, however, that’s dropped to 16% and their confidence has halved. So we have got some big issues that we feel we need to talk about.”
Issues, perhaps, like a 2016 report by the TUC that showed half of all British women have been harassed at work. Or the study released last year that found that one in four women in UK workplaces have had their appearance commented upon by a colleague, compared with just one in nine men.
“We see this space as being part of a movement,” says Wosskow. “We are ambitious because the scale of change that needs to happen for women in the workplace is great. And if we can help women build networks, skills and confidence they can deploy outside this building, then we believe we can do that.” She points to the AllBright Academy, which runs business courses in London and Manchester, aiming to give students the practical skills they need to advance their careers.
Naomie Harris says the reasons she joined the AllBright were as much personal as political. She cites girlfriends who have run their own businesses for years but don’t know how to take it to the next level, and her mother. “She was a single parent. She decided she was going to leave her job in the Post Office and start a career as a writer, and she did that entirely on her own, without any guidance or support. It was incredibly challenging. So I thought of her and what she would have needed, and how it would have been so beneficial for her to have had an organisation like this, where she could share her ideas and experiences with other women. These spaces were always needed, but it’s just now being recognised.”
It’s a mission shared by the Wing, another private club for women (publisher Tavi Gevinson and Glossier entrepreneur Emily Weiss are members), whose first branch is in the shadow of the Flatiron building in Manhattan. Founded in 2016 by Audrey Gelman – a former press aide for Hillary Clinton and longtime best friend of Lena Dunham – and businesswoman Lauren Kassan (both in their early 30s), the Wing now has a waiting list of 8,000. Questions for prospective members include, “If you were to have dinner with three renowned women, who would they be?” (Gelman’s answer is: journalist Tina Brown, author Fran Lebowitz and actor Rosie Perez).
With several branches in New York and Washington, the pair have plans to open on the west coast of the US this year, and then expand into the UK and Europe. “The Wing was opened three weeks before the election, when we had a really different belief about where the country was headed politically. Then everything changed,” says Gelman. “I’m from a political background and didn’t want to assume that our women were looking for politically motivated events at the Wing, or that our members were necessarily interested in the things I’m interested in – but they really were.
“That’s meant the activities are so much more than just people turning up, plugging in their phones or switching on their computer and working on their own things. There’s a real interest in political activism at a grassroots level and actually being the change, which is so encouraging.”
The obvious drawback to all these clubs, however, is also their selling point: exclusivity. While both the Wing and the AllBright say they manage their membership to encourage a “diversity of professions, ages, races and social status” (as Gelman puts it), hand-picking women of either high status or potential excludes the women who may most need help. How likely is it, really, that the woman with a great idea who works on the supermarket checkout to make ends meet will benefit from such a place?
But Gelman believes the Wing is inclusive, and cites having a number of transgender members such as Chelsea Manning and the model Hari Nef as proof. Both women are, of course, hardly below the radar. When I ask who her members are, she explains that she “aims not to have an easy answer to that question”. “Most of them love the eclectic backgrounds of women in the club,” she says. “Say we host a breakfast for women from a certain area of New York – we may have a teacher sitting next to a doctor, sitting next to a local politician. To both me and our members, the most interesting rooms are the most varied rooms.”
But with membership at the Wing costing $215 (£150) a month, women have to be wealthy to even apply.
Inclusivity has also been preying on the minds of Wosskow and Jones. “We’ve made 10 bursary memberships, which we will award to selected candidates from different industries,” says Wosskow. “We’ve also kept the pricing of the club affordable at £50 a month, which is less than a gym membership. We want to make it accessible to young women, so we have a discounted rate for under-27s. We just want women in there who are going to get a lot out of it.”
Layla Rivelino, 30, opened We Heart Mondays in east London in November 2017, with Andre Sinclair, 29. With a background in events and social media, Rivelino says she wanted to create an affordable space (monthly membership starts at £25 and you can cancel at any time) for the people she most enjoyed working with throughout her career – women.
“I wanted to provide somewhere that brings women together, where they won’t be judged, where they can network with each other and have as much fun as possible,” she says. “Our members come from the creative industries – bloggers, photographers, freelance journalists, PR people, a few who run startups. It’s a good mix.”
She believes that single-sex working environments are more productive and have a better atmosphere. “Women who come into our space feel more comfortable. They know that certain things that can occur within a mixed office won’t occur here. The whole idea of having a ‘safe space’ has really become a talking point only recently, but it’s long been needed.”
Lourdes Avila Uribe is a freelance writer based in New York, and a member of the Wing. The 33-year-old says joining the club has been life-changing for her, not only because it means she has somewhere to work, but because she gets to meet other people who share the same values. A fan of the club’s monthly women’s history classes, she also praises its Wing Woman speed-dating nights, film festival and cooking classes.
“Women in this city were really looking for a safe space to be themselves,” Uribe says. “Not having men there makes a huge difference. You don’t realise the tension of living your day-to-day life until you are in a space without them. You feel that lift.
“I don’t have to be guarded now, don’t have to listen to men talking all the time. I didn’t realise how much I had craved this until I joined the Wing. It’s so professionally inspiring to be around women with a great work ethic, and it’s bonding not to have to hide your ambitions. It’s hilarious to me when men bitch and moan about women having a few places like this when the whole world is their safe space. The fact some think we can’t have just one spot is laughable.”
Gelman agrees that completely men-free space changes the dynamic. “Women really let their guard down,” she says. “They say they can focus more easily. This idea of all-female spaces being like a catfight is a media invention. Women-only spaces are environments of mutual support, not competition. We have members who wear the hijab, and in here they can remove it because there are no men present. The other day I saw a woman who was pumping [expressing breast milk] while on a conference call and getting her hair done. This is a space where women can do what they need to do.”
Back in Rathbone Place, the AllBright’s Hard Hat cocktail party is in full swing. Wosskow and Jones are determined that their spaces will be “fun places to hang out and have a drink” as well as to learn and network. If tonight is any indication, they’ve already got that sussed. I’ve rarely seen so many stylish women in one place.
I strike up a conversation with a woman in her early 30s who has come alone. An international banker, she is overjoyed at having made it through the selection process, because the AllBright will provide her with somewhere to entertain her growing crop of female investors. “Until now,” she says, “there’s been really nowhere for me to take them.”
The AllBright, however, does allow men in the club, providing they are the guest of a female member, which feels like a bit of a cop-out. Surely allowing men in any capacity will jeopardise their USP?
But Wosskow says that the club is “not anti-men”. “We have male investors in our business and men on our advisory board, and there are great, supportive and open men in our world who understand things need to change and are willing to put their money where their mouths are,” she says.
“We did a talk in Manchester recently,” says Jones, “and a guy stood up in the Q&A session and said he has two daughters in their teens and asked, ‘How soon do you think you can fix this situation?’ I answered honestly: I think it is going to take a long time. But we’ve just got to start bringing men like him with us on our mission. We have got good friends 10 or 20 years older than us and they say working environments are not much better now than they were when they started in their careers. It’s depressing.”
It’s a sentiment echoed by Lane Fox, who made her name with an internet startup 20 years ago. “I keep thinking back to when we founded Lastminute.com and it just feels like another world,” she says, recalling a trip last year to the Women’s March in Washington DC. “There was an older woman there holding a placard that said: ‘I can’t believe I still have to deal with this shit.’ I’ve only been working 25 years and I feel like that. But it is interesting how rapidly things have unravelled – or, depending on your point of view – begun to clarify, as always, led by the slightly outlying example of Hollywood.”
If the AllBright is anything to go by, they’re in with a chance. Wosskow and Jones aim to open four sites by the end of 2019, elsewhere in the UK and beyond.
How does Harris respond to the criticism that clubs like hers are sexist? She laughs. “So many boardrooms are men-only, yet women have to deal with that every day of our working lives. Women need our own spaces to galvanise ourselves, to get back into the workplace in a powerful way and to redress the balance. Ultimately, having single-sex spaces is not a future that any of us really want – we don’t want any form of segregation – but it seems we desperately need that. For now at least.”
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