After a seminar.....

…. you begin to appreaciate things.

Writing an essay on A Room Of Ones Own makes me think about the things Woolf was writing about.

It makes you realise just how far we have come, it makes me realise how lucky I am- as lucky as Woolfs protagonist felt when she reflected on her newfound inheritance.

I am lucky to be here- and by here, I mean a heated, comfortable, spacious bedroom at a prestigous University. I am lucky that I am here, despite being a woman. Despite being a POOR woman.

I have the proverbial 'room on ones own' to study in, I have the books and materials and time and quiet and approval from society that Judith Shakespeare lacked.

I have the financial independence that Woolfs heroine dreamt of; I have societys blessing to “heave the coal” or “drive the engines”.

Aeroplanes and women are both commonplace now.

I am incredibly lucky to have nothing- physical or psychological around me that would so much as hint that women and men are not equal (this excludes the fundamentalist-blogs I pursue for my own amusement) (espeacially since I know that lots of other women in the UK do put up with sexism and inequality on a day to day basis).

I am lucky to be around people who, should a man voice the opinion that women are less than men, that we should 'know our place' or something like that, would immeadialty castiagate him for his opinion.


If Virginia Woolfe was still alive, I’d like to invite her here.
I'd like to bring her into my room, my room with my desk, my laptop, my bookshelves, and offer her a seat.

I'd like to let her look around, and I'd and say “Look. Look at us all. This is how far we have come”.

(Before anyone can comment, I'd like to say that I am fully aware how privileged I am. I know that sexim still exists in the UK. I'm not claiming the fight is over.)