I’ve had a week of absolute madness at the workbench, which usually means my brain has had plenty of time to stew over whatever nonsense is happening in the wider world while my hands are busy with silver wire. And this week, I’ve been feeling a very specific, familiar kind of fury.
It started when I was scrolling through my phone during a rare five minutes of quiet, looking at coverage of some incredibly successful, multi-talented female musicians. Women who are selling out stadiums, writing their own music, playing multiple instruments, and basically running massive global empires. They are at the absolute peak of their creative and professional powers.
And yet, what was the internet obsessing over?
Whether they’d lost weight. Whether they’d gained weight. What they were wearing, how their faces looked under high-def cameras, and whether their bodies met the current, ever-shifting standards of what a woman is "supposed" to look like.
It makes me want to scream into a bucket.
The Infinite Goalposts of Being a Woman
It seems that no matter how much a woman achieves—no matter if she is literally changing the cultural landscape or winning every award under the sun—her body remains public property. It is treated like a public monument that everyone has a right to critique, pass judgment on, or debate over their morning coffee.
Why are we still doing this?
You never see a profile of a male rockstar or a brilliant male producer that spends three paragraphs analysing his cellulite or questioning his choice of snack based on his waistline. He gets to just be a genius. He gets to be messy, or aged, or comfortable in his own skin, and the world focuses entirely on the art.
But for women? The talent is almost treated like a lovely little bonus feature, while the physical form is the main event. It’s a tedious, exhausting double standard that has been running on a loop since the dawn of time, and frankly, I am entirely sick of it.
The "Old Whingey Woman" Strikes Again?
Maybe I’m hyper-aware of it because I’m sitting here nearing fifty, looking at the world, and realizing the goalposts don't move just because you get older or more successful. They just change shape. If you’re young and successful, you’re hyper-sexualized and picked apart; if you’re older and successful, you’re picked apart for trying to look young (or not trying hard enough). You literally cannot win.
It begs the question: how much collective female energy is being sucked into the void by us having to constantly navigate this nonsense? Imagine what else we could be doing if we weren't being told, subtly or overtly, that our worth is ultimately tied to how much space we occupy physically.
What Do You Think? (And A Little Giveaway!)
I really want to hear your thoughts on this one. Does this constant scrutiny drive you as mental as it drives me? Are you entirely over the double standards too?
Drop a comment below and let’s have a proper chat about it. And because I think we all deserve a little pick-me-up after tackling the patriarchy, everyone who leaves a comment before next Sunday the 12th will be entered into a draw to win a €50 voucher for the store. 🎁
Channeling the Fury Into the Sparkle
The silver lining—pun entirely intended—of having a buzzy, annoyed brain at the workbench is that it makes for very focused making. If the world is going to be obsessed with how women look, then my little contribution is going to be making pieces that are entirely about joy, nostalgia, and a bit of a rebellious middle finger to the status quo.
We are creators, business owners, mothers, musicians, artists, and absolute powerhouses. Our bodies are just the vessels carrying all that talent around.
Let’s start talking about the music, the art, and the empires instead, shall we?
Right, I’m off to go channel the rest of this rage into some fresh designs before my studio completely dissolves into chaos.
Stay brilliant, stay sparkly. 🥂
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