Michael Gove and his Amazing Friends

In April 2012, for Napowrimo, I wrote a series of poems about Tory Education Secretary Michael Gove. Or, more specifically, about a cardboard cut-out of him. See, Gove did something that year which no Education Secretary had done in a long time, if ever: he refused to address the annual conference of Britain's biggest teachers' union, the NASUWT.

This presented NASUWT General Secretary Chris Keates with a problem: one of the major set-pieces of Conference is the General Secretary's reply to the Ed Sec's speech. With Gove having chickened out of attending, there would be no speech to reply to, and no-one to whom she could address these remarks.

Keats got around this by making a speech to a cardboard cut-out of the Secretary, which she stood next to on the platform and harangued. It seemed a fair swap. The cardboard Gove was two-dimensional, flimsy, lacking in substance and had no real ideas about educational policy: in this respect it was hard to tell the difference between the cardboard Gove and the supposedly real one - a conceit I decided to run with in the first poem of the sequence.

Maybe Gove feels that he lacks substance as well, because at this week's Tory Party Conference, not for the first time, Gove decided to pitch up at Manchester rolling with a crew. Maybe he did this to disguise the flimsiness of his material, like a rapper getting loads of people to do guest spots on his album to cover up the fact that he's only written enough stuff for about three full songs, or a stand-up hosting a chat show in a break between tours: he trotted out one of his old numbers, the 'enemies of promise' bit, but mainly allowed others to have the stage, padding out his time while also making him look super-magnanimous: we had George Parker, an ineffectual American ex-union leader turned corporate shill; we had a lady who got somewhat over-excited over the opening of a free school in her area, and who brought her wee one along with her to elicit a little more emotion from the audience; and most interestingly we had a guy called Lindsay Johns, who Gove brought along to provide some ideological cover for an attack on 'trendy teaching' and 'political correctness'. Here's  the Mail's report of the speech, which is interesting both for the Fail's sheer joy at having found a black guy who can say stuff that sounds even more right-wing than one of their leader articles, and for a priceless photo of Gove and George Gideon Oliver Osborne making 'interested faces' while Johns speaks.

What's this guy selling? Johns is, according to the Mail, 'a writer and broadcaster who runs a youth programme in Peckham'. I can't find any record online of him running a youth programme, but he does do mentoring work for an organisation called 'Leaders of Tomorrow'. A Guardian profile indicates Mr Johns used to write pieces for that organ until 2009. His last piece for the Grauniad was a defence of Derek Walcott's right to be Oxford Professor of Poetry despite allegations he had sexually harrassed a student. After this he began writing a blog for - well, well! - the Daily Mail: a fact that paper seems curiously unwilling to mention in their fawning article about his speech.

Johns is again referred to as leading 'a youth mentoring scheme' on the website for The Sage, Gateshead, advertising a talk he gave as part of last year's Free Thinking Festival, the theme of which is that we 'should stop listening to young people'. I've never really worked as a mentor to anyone, but I would imagine that working as a mentor to young people and at the same time believing we 'shouldn't listen' to young people might create some rather interesting cognitive dissonance. But I digress.

What interested me in the hoo-ha about Johns was a phrase that kept popping up in the tweets I read about his speech: 'bling culture'. This kind of phrase-making irks me because it's so much a feature of the discourse that makes idols out of people like Johns. Basically it works like this: if a problem primarily affects young, working-class and/or BME people, the media and the politicians decry it as a 'culture' issue. Gun culture. Knife culture. Drug culture. Bling culture.

The next stage is that the media and political classes start giving out about the need for 'role models' to appear and lead the poor benighted denizens of these cultures out of their stupefied bondage to the knives, the guns, the drugs and the bling (which almost always seems to consist of stopping them listening to those damn hippety-hop records, incidentally).

There are all kinds of problematic assumptions which underlie all this. There's the assumption that people in the groups which have these cultures can't think for themselves, and need messiah figures they can mimic in order to stop being lesser breeds without the law and start behaving like decent, civilised people. You know. In a lot of ways, they're like children. Am I the only one who finds this assumption kind of racist?

There's the assumption that only certain groups get to be called 'cultures' and need 'role models'. The Houses of Parliament enjoy a lot of cheap, subsidised alcohol, and there have been skirmishes in the bars there as a result - but no-one suggests Parliament has a 'booze culture' and needs the shining example of a role model to lead them to a brave new sober future. Two girls got raped at Latitude, but no-one is decrying the excesses of Poncy Festival Culture and calling on indie kids to put some role models forward and get their house in order. Some cultures, clearly, are more equal than others in this view. Hmmm. I wonder what they might have in common?

And there's the fact that it's far, far easier to bemoan a knife/gun/drugs/bling/fishcakes culture than it is to address the deeper economic or social factors that might lead kids to carry knives, take drugs or fetishize bling - not that that's the reason politicians are so keen to trot it out as an idea, of course. Oh no.

 On the same day that Johns decried 'bling culture', Boris Johnson made a speech. Johnson, as Mayor of London, presides over a city where locals are being priced out of the housing market to clear space for luxury flats to be erected for wealthy oligarchs. Are the Tories really going to claim they can't see why that might lead some people to think that their only chance in life is to get rich or die trying? Come to think of it, is Johns really going to go on about 'bling culture' under the auspices of a gang of people who are paying security guards to keep an eye on their £45-a-bottle champagne? Maybe that's okay, though: it'd only be Bad Bling Culture if it were Henny or Courvoisier G4S were guarding. Important to keep up with what's U and non-U, after all.

It's pretty clear that Johns has spotted a gap in the market and decided to insert himself into it aggressively. He's playing an old and profitable game, flogging a position that makes privileged people feel better about their own views about education, and peddling the usual straw man nonsense as a way of promoting it. I've worked in education and I've never seen these 'down wiv da kids', 'hip-hop Shakespeare' lessons he talks about - I suspect they exist in the same universe where 'Baa Baa Black Sheep' has been banned for being racist.  Most of the teachers I know are less concerned about 'making things achingly cool and hip' than just controlling their classes, getting kids through their exams and surviving the ridiculous workload they have to deal with without burning out. And I believe in the need for a more inclusive curriculum and I haven't had a 'Rolls Royce, Oxbridge humanities education'. I went to a comprehensive and got my BA from a former polytechnic.

Johns talks dismissively about young people using 'street slang that makes you sound like you've had a full-frontal lobotomy'. Well. When I did the Architects of Our Republic workshops back in August I met a lot of people at the youth group workshops who did use quite slangy speech when they talked to each other, though when they talked to me they code-switched to some extent, as you'd expect - but none of them sounded lobotomised (such a wonderfully ableist phrase, that, by the way). And I was impressed by the work all of them did. In fact, at the final performance at the South Bank Centre I thought some of the people from the youth workshops did some of the best poems on the night. Those young people didn't sound lobotomised. They were passionate, articulate, dedicated, inspired, and inspiring. They were reading out work that mattered to them, into the writing and performance of which they'd poured craft and graft, effort and enthusiasm, inspiration and perspiration. They were seizing the moment, that summer night, to say something about things that mattered to them. To tell their truths, from the heart, in the language that felt most real to them, which in no way sounded lobotomised, whatever register they happened to be using.

What they were not doing was spotting a niche in the market and insinuating themselves into it. What they were not doing was crafting their image and presentation in such a way that they could flatter the prejudices of an audience from which they would always be separate, accepted at most in a conditional sense. Their words weren't cynical and calculated, but urgent and real.

And that, pace Johns, made them worth listening to.

Here's a very good deconstruction of the TERF myth that when trans people talk about the 'cotton ceiling' it's because we're rapists.

It's a fine analysis, but I think the author ignores one thing: the role of projection, in a psychoanalytic sense, in TERF discourse on this issue.

See, the TERF idea that there's something rapey about the cotton ceiling depends on the idea that us trans girls try to bully people into having sex with us by claiming that, essentially, if they say they don't want to it's because they're transphobic. It's an odd notion: who wants to have sex with an unwilling partner who's been browbeaten into it? Not me, that's for damn sure. Where would TERFs get that idea?

Here's my theory: a lot of TERFs are veterans of 80s radical feminism, which introduced us all to a cute concept called 'political lesbianism'. This idea held that ALL women should be lesbians, whether they fancied other women or not, and anyway if they said they didn't want to shag women it was probably because they'd been brainwashed by patriarchy. In other words, IF YOU DIDN'T SLEEP WITH (CIS) LESBIANS YOU WERE A HOMOPHOBE.

No wonder they can only see the cotton ceiling as similar sexual bullying: browbeating other women into submission is probably the only way some TERFs can get laid.

And, on the eve of the Tory Party conference, a reminder that the 'caring Conservatives' are scum too.

Eric Pickles thinks telling an abuse survivor to 'adjust your medication' is just 'a blunt piece of advice'. I have some blunt advice for him: get some damn MANNERS before you next show your ugly, bigoted, Dickensian face in public again, you miserable little man.

Your regular reminder that the Daily Mail are scum.

Poetry? Please.

I get the Guardian every Saturday  (unless the fuckers have ran something particularly transphobic during the week). The main reason l like buying it is the Review section. But every now and again even the books pages manage to do something to annoy me, and they managed it today with Tim Dee's dismissal of 'angry performance poets' in an otherwise polite little article about Radio Four institution Poetry Please.

Creating a false division beween 'performance' and 'literary' poets? Assuming that all us performance types do is 'shouty rhymes'? Characterising us as being so arrogant we think we're better than Donne? Wow. I really would like to think we're past that. Then again, perhaps Dee feels he needs to get his retaliation in first, given that, as he admits, he's shilling for a poetry programme on which 'the most recently published poet...is Dylan Thomas'.

Way to make poetry seem alive, dude. It's almost enough to move one to angry shouting.

The Ballad of Private Manning (video)

I said I intended to update this blog more frequently - and I meant it! Here's a clip of me performing 'The Ballad of Private Manning' at Scratch Tyne in Newcastle!

Changes

So, yeah, the layout here at Wrestling Emily has changed just a tad. That's not all that's gonna change.

When I started writing this blog, I tended to write my posts as long, essay-style pieces. That was fine and dandy when I wasn't winning slams, making films and, as this week, performing four straight days in a row; but now that I am, I sometimes don't have the time to sit down and write a long, organised think-piece. And yet I do have reasons to need a blog: I have gigs coming up, like the Superheroes of Slam final in Manchester, or Forked in Plymouth in November (not September, as it says on the Apples & Snakes site); I have a book to promote; and I have random opiniated stuff to say which, as one or two people have pointed out, I ought not to just be confining to my Facebook page.

All of which is a fairly long-winded way of saying that, as much as Jonathan Franzen might shake his head and call me a symptom of everything that's wrong with the modern world, the age of the long essay, on this blog at least, is over. Expect to see shorter updates here, but more of them. Maybe they'll be rants, maybe they'll be clips of me performing, maybe they'll be travelogues, maybe they'll be snarky comments attached to a link; who knows, maybe even something longer now and again. But whatever it is, there'll be more of it - hence the new layout. Stay tuned.