Do you remember being asked who your favourite actress was when you were younger? A ridiculous but popular question among new friends, teachers who hadn’t prepared back to school ice-breaker exercises, and the ‘About Me’ pages of those ubiquitous Groovy Chick journals.

I had many favourites. The long list included Melissa Joan Hart for her exceptional performance as everyone’s favourite teenage witch, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen because the novelty of twin-themed content was at its peak, and Anne Hathaway for convincing me that it was only a matter of time before my own long-lost grandmother declared me princess of an unknown land.

Though it wasn’t always conscious, we grew up absorbing these stories about young women. We’d take from them as much as we could to try and shape our own messy teenage lives (anyone else get in trouble for trying to order a pizza with ‘Sorry’ written across it in M&Ms?). But there was, and continues to be, a huge blocker in my relating to these characters. Why? Because the majority of our best loved onscreen narratives revolved around the white, middle-class experience. Though I tried to ignore it, the fact remained that young black women like me didn’t feature very much in those storylines.

No, it’s not surprising at all, is it? The ‘token black girl’ is a concept with which we’re depressingly all too familiar, and have been for too long now. It’s a reality that I wrestled with so fervently because I have felt like one myself. I grew up in white areas, went to schools where I was the only black girl in the classroom and in many of my friendship groups now, as a twenty-something in 2019, I’m often the representative woman of colour. With that has often come an underlying expectation to be ‘the black one’ – to live the sassy, loud, eye-rolling, punchline-delivering, surface level stereotypes afforded to the black women we see in the white TV and film world – think Jada Pinkett Smith in The Women. But it’s really hard to do that when that’s not who you are. At least, not all the time.

Thank god for Dionne in Clueless. Stacey Dash’s character remains one of the most celebrated icons of ’90s pop culture. She was as substantial a presence in the film as Cher Horowitz. Dionne’s blackness wasn’t the only thing about her. Her unapologetic ‘sassiness’ didn’t come across as a means to fulfil the caricature that is normally written for black actresses but rather an assertion of authority in a space that needed it – lol, Cher really needed it. Dionne also wore her hair in braids, which is a big identity-claiming move in itself as the majority of black female sidekicks in the white woman narrative tend to wear their hair in straight styles. Trust me, you won’t un-notice it.

Looking back with a bit of perspective, Dionne was one of a welcome (and necessary) few black women featured in era-defining movies and shows to make the ‘token black girl’ thing more than the stereotypes we got used to. She’s joined by Saved By The Bell’s Lisa Turtle, who was smart, stylish, had a hell of a lot to say and was originally meant to be cast as a ‘Jewish-American princess’. Lisa, star of many of the show’s romantic storylines, was an unrequited love interest (which doesn’t happen a lot to our ‘token’ black characters) and the legitimacy of the romance afforded her was never mocked or diminished. Sure, she didn’t deal with Screech very well (did any of us, at that age?) but her relatability transcended the weird race barrier that often stopped young women of colour on screen from being positioned as ‘the desirable one’.

Then there’s Charlie Wheeler from Friends. I have a theory which I like to call the ‘three-episode curse’. It’s plagued the likes of Gabrielle Union, who spent much of her early career (both sides of Bring It On) as the black woman cast to appear in a TV show for a really limited, almost forgettable amount of time. She was even cast as two separate characters in Saved By The Bell: The New Class, for one episode each. Union was also in Friends for a moment or two, starring as a girl Ross and Joey fought over. Charlie (played by Aisha Tyler), however, who also ended up being a conflicting love interest for the pair, was afforded a legitimate backstory. We knew how smart she was, that she had a past and a future beyond the time she was the ‘hot’ girl Ross and Joey both fell for, and she survived the three-episode curse – she was there for nine.

Another unsurprising observation is that British TV was desperately lacking in similar, or perhaps more frustrating, ways. Some of the most popular mainstream shows of the ’90s and ’00s are notable for their absence of black women, and so Jal from Skins remains one of my favourite television characters to have guided my teenage existence. She’s as frustrated with her brother’s faux ‘ghetto’ rap personas as she is trying to prove herself as a young woman – not just the musically talented best friend to Michelle, the ‘sexy’ one the boys drool over. Her narrative is interwoven with so many layers of the angst and confusion that we all experience as teenagers but points directly to her identity as a young black woman in a way that, thankfully, never felt forced in a series about a primarily white group of friends.

When you’re growing up, trying to figure yourself out and battling through the minefield of adolescence, it’s hard enough to know which way is up. Coming to terms with the idea that, as a black girl, I wasn’t leading lady material was undeniably shit. I sure as hell didn’t understand the complexity of what that meant back than, and as an adult still twinge every time the only black woman on screen is made to perform the stereotypes that I’ve spent such a long time trying to dismiss from my consciousness. But thanks to a few well-written black women who thrived in an environment that continued to position them as ‘other’, I came to understand that there was a life beyond the mould that most media told me to fit into.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Disney Princesses Have Daddy Issues

What Michelle Obama Means To Black British Women

My Difficult Relationship With Black History Month

Success stories can seem just as fantastical as the fairy tales you (may have) loved growing up: Bold career woman finds herself in the right place at the right time, and poof, her fairy godmother mentor snaps her fingers, transforming our hero into an overnight success who brings home a 7-figure salary, jet-sets the world spreading her you-can-have-it-all gospel, all while looking awesome and Instagramming the whole thing. Umm…really? Why do we so rarely hear the other side of the story — the false starts, the waves of doubt, the failures, and the fuck-ups? Those late-night worries and, occasionally, breakthroughs that are so relatable to the rest of us?

Introducing Self-Made, Refinery29’s newest column spotlighting the real stories that fuelled success — the wins, the fails, and the curveballs —proving there’s no one path to getting what you want.

As a photographer, illustrator, entrepreneur, and fashion blogger, Garance Doré epitomises the modern, self-made woman. The French phenom has collaborated on campaigns with some of the most recognisable names in the luxury space, including Chloé, Dior, Louis Vuitton, Kate Spade, Net-a-Porter, and many more. She was a street style pioneer, snapping photos of stylish Parisians all the way back in 2007 — long before Instagram was even a thing. In fact, social media was still in its infancy; the term “influencer” had yet to be coined. In 2010, Interview magazine called her “possibly the fashion world’s most closely followed blogger.” 

Looking back now, it’s amazing that she achieved so much and garnered such acclaim in the influencer space nearly a decade ago, way ahead of the zeitgeist shift that inevitably followed. Perhaps it’s fitting, then, that her most recent collaboration is with the beloved skincare line La Mer. The campaign positions La Mer as a pioneer in a different arena: the way we view and discuss ageing. Its goal is to embrace generational aging and encourage women to feel more confident as their skin matures over time. 

Refinery29 talked with Garance Doré about how she was able to embark on a self-made journey, what aspects of her career have influenced other aspiring entrepreneurs, and the one lesson she’s continually working to master.

What is the definition of being self-made?

To me, it comes down to not letting society define you. It’s about finding and defining who you want to be. Whether you want to be working like crazy, idle, be married, or not… That’s being self-made.

What quality do you possess that has made you a good candidate for self-making your destiny?

To me, it’s definitely my insatiable need for freedom. It gives me the courage to challenge myself and makes me run away from the too well-traveled roads.

Tell us a lesson you keep trying to learn — that you hope to eventually master, in business or otherwise?

Mindfulness. Staying focused on what matters for me. In this very loud world, we tend to forget that what makes our neighbour happy won’t necessarily fulfil us. To observe and examine, and stay connected to who I truly am.

What aspect of your path has been the most motivational to other young women coming up through the ranks?

It’s different for each and every one of them, and that’s the good part! Some tell me it’s my creativity, others talk about my freedom, some about the innovator part. Being an entrepreneur is very fascinating for a lot of women. But I am always careful to tell them there is not just one road to fulfilment and happiness.

Being self-made means committing to self-care, too — to manage the process as well as all the unexpected pivots that come with it. How do you fuel and refresh yourself when shit really starts to get hard?

Time off. Meditation. Having fun — dancing a lot. Family. Self-care. Massages. Jumping in the ocean. Making sure to feel healthy and in my beauty. Hanging out with my dog. Anything that connects me to what life is really about, in other words.

What’s your Self-Made Mantra, no matter where you might be in the process?

Be yourself. This is the easiest, yet the most challenging thing to do.

What are some unexpected challenges of running your own business?

Running a business is all sorts of difficult. Making success for more than 13 years takes a lot. You need to be able to challenge yourself, deal with the failures, not fall asleep over your successes, stay current but stay authentic. The challenges of longevity are definitely the ones we never think about when we launch — they come very unexpected!

Why did you choose to work with La Mer? How were you first introduced to the brand?

I have known La Mer forever and used it as well. I’ve always wanted the best for my skin, since I was a teenager, I knew it made the most sense to be very proactive with it because my actions would impact its future. 

What’s your skincare regimen?

I like simple, achievable rituals. Clean, regenerate, hydrate. I work in fashion and beauty, so obviously I have tried, and still try a lot of new products and lotions — and what I have found is that I always come back to my favourites. 

The new Regenerating Serum is special because of the effect it has in terms of rejuvenation – I don’t wear a lot of makeup, so I need my skin to feel really good, plump. With the serum I feel like it’s taken care of.

Tell us about the campaign which celebrates generational ageing. Why is age inclusivity so important to you? 

Because I think all women need to relax and I want to help spread the word that with a little bit of intention and care, we can look and feel better as we age! I want to be part of this generation of women who are proud of who they are and who feel free to enjoy and live fully, with no regrets, each chapter of their life.

Answer this: If I didn’t pursue this career path, I would be…

So so so so so many things. But probably a spa critic! Ahah!

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

DVF Has A Genius Trick For Mastering Self Doubt

Is Resale The Future of Sustainable Fashion?

The Internet Loves Margiela Model, Leon Dame

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Did Your Fave Show Survive The Netflix Bloodbath?

Everything Coming To UK Netflix In December

El Camino Takes Breaking Bad To The Next Level

Lately, keeping up with the Kardashian’s and their hair changes has felt like a never-ending sprint. A few weeks ago, Kendall Jenner went blonde, then brunette again. Then, Khloé Kardashian went “cloud blonde” for a hot minute. Kylie Jenner, well, she rocks a different wig nearly every day. Then there’s Kim Kardashian-West, who’s bounced between a bob and lengthier strands as of late. She’s also dabbled with a few different hair colours (with the help of her expansive wig collection, of course).

Kardashian-West’s stylist Chris Appleton shared a snap of his client rocking what he dubs “cool chocolate brown” on Instagram. In the photo, the KKW-founder posed in waist-length brunette hair dyed with cool-toned highlights. This isn’t the first time the mogul has tested the ash-brown colour. Back in July, Appleton gave her a similar frosty hue, but on shorter shoulder-length hair.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Chris Appleton (@chrisappleton1) on Oct 3, 2019 at 9:12am PDT

This cool-brown shade has been a popular request in the trendiest L.A. and New York salons. Unlike warmer browns, which may have more golden or red tones, this one is more muted with taupe undertones. It’s the perfect in-between colour for darker brunettes who want to go lighter, but don’t want to cross over to full-on blonde balayage just yet.

While her new look is most likely the work of an expertly dyed wig, it doesn’t make it any less stunning. We hope this new colour sticks around, but given Kardashian’s hair history, there will probably be a new colour to keep up with next.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Olivia Colman is having an incredible year. She won an Oscar, a BAFTA and a Golden Globe for her performance in The Favourite, one of the most amazingly strange films in recent memory. She was hilariously horrible in series two of Fleabag. And she’s about to play Queen Elizabeth II in series three of The Crown, one of the must-watch shows of the autumn.

Now she’s recorded a cover of Portishead’s “Glory Box” for an upcoming charity album – yes, really! Colman’s recording of the trip-hop classic, which became a hit single in 1995 and was later used in teen movie The Craft, is part of the BBC’s charity compilation album Children in Need: Got It Covered.

Colman isn’t the only household name to have recorded a surprising cover version for the album. Her The Crown co-star Helena Bonham has taken on Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now”, Doctor Who actress Jodie Whittaker has tackled Coldplay’s “Yellow”, and Doctor Foster‘s Suranne Jones has covered Clean Bandit’s disco banger “Symphony”.

Check out the full track listing below, courtesy of the BBC:

Helena Bonham Carter has covered “Both Sides Now” by Joni Mitchell
Jim Broadbent has covered “Blue Moon” by Rogers and Hart
Olivia Colman has covered “Glory Box” by Portishead
Shaun Dooley has covered “Never Grow Up by Taylor Swift
Luke Evans has covered “Smile” by Charlie Chaplin
Suranne Jones has covered “Symphony” by Clean Bandit
Adrian Lester has covered “I Wish” by Stevie Wonder
Himesh Patel has covered “All These Things That I’ve Done by The Killers
David Tennant has covered “Sunshine on Leith” by The Proclaimers
Jodie Whittaker has covered “Yellow” by Coldplay

Children in Need: Got It Covered is out on 1st November. In the meantime, you can whet your appetite with one of the best ever actress-moonlights-as-singer moments, “What If” by Kate Winslet!

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

The Crown Isn't Shying Away From Casting Changes

Journalist Mocked For Olivia Colman Comments

Olivia Colman On Her Fleabag <em>Character</em>

Any member of Generation Rent knows that the monthly cost of a room can vary dramatically from region to region. And a recent study found that many young people can no longer afford to live in cities where salaries are higher – which is, obviously, an incredibly unfair state of affairs.

So now, more than ever, it pays to be super clued-up about how the rental market is operating all over the UK. According to SpareRoom’s latest Rental Index, room rents are up just 1% year-on-year – though in London, they’ve climbed at a much higher rate: 4% in the last 12 months.

It’s little wonder, therefore, that London’s Mayor Sadiq Khan is putting his weight behind introducing a system of rent control in the capital.

But perhaps surprisingly, London isn’t actually the most expensive place in the UK to rent. The average monthly room rent in Guernsey comes in at £796 – £14 more than the London average of £782.

Across the UK overall, the average room rent now comes in at £600, inclusive of bills. The cheapest rents can be found in Galashiels, Scotland (£303), Bangor, Northern Ireland (£318) and Craigavon, Northern Ireland (£320).

Check out how rents vary from region to region in the graphic below.

SpareRoom’s Rental Index is based on nearly 300,000 rental listings, so it gives a pretty accurate overview of the UK rental market. It’s also bang up-to-date as it uses data from rooms listed between July and September of this year.

Matt Hutchinson of SpareRoom said in response to the latest findings: “Despite repeated warnings that the tenancy fees ban would drive rents up, so far that’s not been the case. Even with July, August and September being the busiest months for new tenancies we haven’t seen a significant bump in rents. It’s still early days but, for now, tenants will be breathing a sigh of relief.”

Check out the average rents in the UK’s 50 biggest towns and cities – and how they’ve increased or decreased over the last 12 months – in the table below.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

How Much People In Their Twenties Spend On Renting

How Do Your Salary & Savings Measure Up To Others?

The Housing Crisis Kept Me With An Abusive Partner

Flo Perry is a writer and illustrator who has made a career out of her passion for drawing breasts and penchant for quizzing people about their sex lives at parties. The daughter of artist Grayson and psychotherapist Philippa Perry, Flo is a proud bisexual who was raised in London where she still lives with her cat. Here, in an extract from her frank and funny new book “How To Have Feminist Sex”, she talks about getting kinky and consent, all in her own inimitable way…

Kinky stuff isn’t for everyone. If you have no interest from straying from your vanilla lifestyle, feel free to skip this. (Of course you won’t skip this; you wanna know what all the kinky people are up to, you nosey lil’ vanilla cupcake.)

But what if you are having fantasies that involve more than just having sex in a bed with the person you’re already having sex with? First of all, just because you’re fantasising about it doesn’t mean you have to actually do it.

Fantasies are really fun. You can do whatever you like! Wanna have sex with some squid man or your boyfriend’s dad? Go for it, as long as it’s in your brain. Because squid men don’t exist (as far as I know??? Sorry if you’re a squid person reading this), and having sex with your boyfriend’s dad would probably really fuck up your life and not be worth it (probably, though you never know, right??).

Just because you fantasise about something doesn’t even mean you would want to do it in real life. In your head you might like the idea of having sex with four strangers in an alleyway, but if you actually got into that situation you might feel afraid, or cold and uncomfortable. Because you’re in an alleyway.

As long as something’s just in your head, there’s no point in feeling guilty about it – you don’t have to go through with it in real life. But what if you do want to do it? You’ve thought about it, and you wanna try a threesome/sex outside/putting something up your bum/getting spanked. What next?

Find someone you trust. Every time we get naked with another person we are making ourselves vulnerable in an exciting and beautiful way. This is even more true when we get kinky with someone else, so you might want to be extra careful that you are sure that the person you’re getting kinky with knows it is all a game. Maybe don’t try getting blindfolded for the first time with a guy you just met in Spoons.

Being kinky usually means playing around with a power dynamic (submissive or dominant). Both roles can make you quite vulnerable. So the first and most important piece of advice is: you have to find the right person. If you want to try something different in bed, you need someone who you can trust to stop when you say “stop” (or “mackerel”, “tiddlywinks”, or whatever else you decide your safe word is). Once you’ve found someone you wanna get kinky with you should talk in detail about your fantasies.

Ideally, sex should be like going to dinner at someone’s house. You invite someone for dinner, ask if they’re a vegetarian, cook them something you both like to eat, and if they refuse pudding it’s not a big deal, you’ll have it for breakfast. Imagine if we asked as much detail about someone’s preferences before sex as we do the first time we cook them dinner.

Don’t try everything at once. Don’t put your biggest dildo in that hole unless you’ve had a finger in there first and liked it. Before you move on and try anything new, check that you’re both still into it. Consent at every level.

Consent Can Be Hot

It’s basically just dirty talk. But some people find dirty talk excruciating, so how do you get over your embarrassment around talking about sex?

Start by talking about sex more with your mates.

Move on to talking about sex with your partner in a more abstract way.

You could watch some porn together as a conversation prompt, talk about what you like and don’t like about what you see.

If you really can’t bear to talk about sex with your partner face to face, write them a sexy letter.

What should you do if your partner asks you to do something in bed that isn’t something you’ve fantasised about before? Try not to kink shame them – be open-minded. Ask them to give you some time to think about it. Imagine yourself in that scenario: does it turn you on? Watch porn of that kink – horny yet? If you enjoy thinking about it, and enjoy watching the porn, give it a go. If you’re not into it, communicate that, and hopefully it won’t be a deal breaker for your sexual compatibility. Don’t do something you don’t want to just to please your partner. But, it doesn’t have to be a big deal to try something once. And by indulging your partner’s fantasy you might learn something about yourself.

Often, the things that seem most taboo to us are the things that turn us on most. It’s why CEOs tend to like being stood on by women in stilettos. And some of the most feminist women like being called a dirty slut.

If you’re not feeling it, say so. It’s never too late to back out. Even if you’re already all tied up, you’ve bought the spanking paddle, and lit the candles, it’s not too late. If your partner tries to persuade you to do something you’re not comfortable with that isn’t cool. That’s trash.

Just because someone wants something once, doesn’t mean they’ll want to do it every time they have sex. Make sure you and your partner check for consent every time you try anything. Trust me, it makes it sexier.

How To Have Feminist Sex, A Fairly Graphic Guide by Flo Perry, published by Particular Books, is out now. Hardback £16.99. Buy it here.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Your Sex Questions, Answered By Our Expert

Want To Orgasm Faster? Try This

Photo Series: Older Members Of The Trans Community

The first trailer for Birds of Prey: And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn has arrived, and in the midst of all the goodness that is Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn, some still have questions about the Joker. Will the Joker be in Birds of Prey? And is the new Joker movie at all connected to Birds of Prey?

To tackle the latter question first, the short answer is no. Todd Phillips’ Joker starring Joaquin Phoenix is an origin story about the Joker that has nothing to do with the DC Extended Universe or any of the events from 2016’s Suicide Squad, to which Birds of Prey serves as a sequel of sorts. 

In Birds of Prey, Robbie reprises her role from Suicide Squad. However, this time, instead of playing second string to male characters, Harley is living her best life post-Joker, who was played by Jared Leto in the film. Yup. The infamous clown couple has broken up, according to the trailer.

Leaked photos from the set show Joker tossing Harley’s belongings out of a window, but Leto is not returning in Birds of Prey. So, this cameo is probably just as long as the Joker’s cameo in the first Birds of Prey comic was. That’s good for fans who want to see Harley have the “fresh start” she raves about after tossing knives at a drawing of the Joker in the trailer. 

Instead of crying over the Joker or following his lead, Harley gets a chance to stand on her own and forge a new identity through friendships with other badass women, including Black Canary (Jurnee Smollett-Bell) and Huntress (Mary Elizabeth Winstead).That is something Birds of Prey writer Christina Hodson said that Robbie, who also serves as a producer, was adamant about during the movie’s development. 

“Margot knew she wanted to tell a ‘Harley Quinn plus girls’ story,” Hodson said in an interview with Total Film. “That was kind of where she began with it. She knew she wanted a girl gang. She wanted Harley to have friends.”

Sounds to us like no Joker, no problems.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Meet The Birds Of Prey Cast

Margot Robbie Is Unrecognizable With Orange Hair

Everything We Know About The Batman

Fresh from winning a trio of Emmy Awards last Sunday, Phoebe Waller-Bridge hosted iconic US sketch show Saturday Night Live this weekend. Like all SNL guest hosts, the Fleabag creator delivered a zingy opening monologue, then joined the show’s regular cast for a series of topical sketches.

She may be a big deal in the US now, but Waller-Bridge stayed true to her UK roots by starring in a parody of ITV2’s hit reality show Love Island. In the sketch, she plays a character called Bella-Rosa whose “dad is a boxer and mum is a pub”. So British, no?

Some of the British accents in the sketch are, ahem, a little more authentic than others, but it’s hard to deny that Waller-Bridge and her co-stars have, for the most part, sent up the tropes of Love Island vibe pretty cleverly.

The sketch’s voiceover definitely makes a pledge we can relate to: “You will watch 50 hours of this – you think you won’t but you will.”

Check out the full sketch below.

Waller-Bridge also used her opening monologue to riff on the whole “Hot Priest” phenomenon.

“Fleabag came from a very personal place for me. It began as a way to get Andrew Scott to dress up as a priest and tell me that he loved me,” she told the SNL audience. “It took me six years and two seasons to achieve it but I did it. I don’t care about awards, I just want gay men to love me.”

Waller-Bridge then added: “I call the character Priest in the script, but everyone started calling him Hot Priest. Obviously Andrew is hot, but this Priest character caused such a horn-storm. Andrew and I were trying to figure out what it was about him that was driving women so mental. And we boiled it down and realised, it was because he was doing this one thing: listening. Really, really listening. Try it, guys.”

Nailed it, tbh. Check out her full monologue below.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Olivia Colman Has Recorded A Surprising '90s Song

Fleabag Stars Gave Free Gins To Queuing Fans

Brilliant Female-Led Shows To Watch This Year

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

The Best Under-$150 Buys Of The Month

Your October Horoscope, Revealed

The New Moon Is In Libra, & It’s Time To Get Roman

Beauty is gendered. More specifically, who gets to be seen as beautiful is defined by how we perceive their gender. At one end of the gender spectrum you have men, who get to be ‘handsome’; at the other you have women, who get to be ‘beautiful’. But what happens if you don’t follow society’s traditional binary ideals?

We inherit this idea from a beauty industry that thrives on a stringent gender divide. Take the fact that products for ‘men’ and ‘women’ come in completely different packaging and different scents, with different prices and different claims, while essentially both being, for example, razors. It has led to the idea that for women to be ‘beautiful’ they must embody a strict set of rules derived from the traditional aesthetics of ‘womanhood’ – rules that embrace makeup, certain silhouettes and specific hairstyles.

For years, people have been fighting to challenge these expectations; attempting to broaden the narrow perimeters of mainstream beauty to include different races, genders, body types and sexualities. It is an ongoing battle, but those perimeters have yet to widen enough to include those who renounce beauty standards entirely. 

To be butch, we are led to believe, is to be the antithesis to ‘traditional’ beauty. By appearing deliberately gender nonconforming, butch women and people are seen to be rejecting traditional forms of femininity. But rejection of femininity is not a rejection of beauty. Nor is it a bid to ‘look like’ or embody masculinity. The beauty of butchness is that it creates its own category, one that stands apart from patriarchal standards and celebrates new versions of womanhood and non-binary identity. 

To learn more, we spoke to three butches about the beauty of being themselves in a world that ‘others’ them. As these conversations show, solace comes with the freedom to feel comfortable presenting in the manner that they are taught not to. It’s a beauty that embodies same sex and queer desire, is inescapably dyke camp, and is largely missing from mainstream media. “Society isn’t telling us that we’re beautiful,” said participant Xandice, “[so] we have to start telling each other.”

‘Butch’ was a dirty word for me for years, I’d feel sick if I said it out loud. Whereas now I relish it. It’s synonymous with all of my favourite things: leather, denim, work boots, swagger, having an uncontrollable urge to wink. It’s a very specific and nuanced energy.

I came out later than most, at 25. About six months after I came out to my mum, I felt free to pick up where I left off at 14 with my gender presentation. I have a very inherent butchness that I really repressed, so it felt like stepping into my own body as I’d always been. My first short haircut felt like my inner magnetic field flipping over 180 degrees. That was the moment in my coming out when I became myself.

My family have largely come to terms with my sexuality, or at least understand what they can and can’t say about it. On the other hand, they feel it’s far more socially acceptable to critique my gender presentation than my sexuality itself. There’s far less pressure for people to pretend to be fine with you being butch. My uncle recently said to me, “Why do you want to look like a man?” I don’t look like a man! I look like a butch woman, it’s not a choice – I’m butch because I can’t be anything other than that.

When I was more neutrally presenting I didn’t experience that much harassment, but now it’s basically daily. It’s so acceptable to see butch women as ‘other’ and see them as wrong, gross, even dirty. I’m doing everything you’re taught not to do as a woman, and the harassment seems like a more culturally acceptable homophobia. I appear very clearly as someone who is rejecting being sexualised by men and their gaze.

Butchness has a history tied to working class women that’s very important to me. There’s a bit in Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg about the revolution around gay identities that happened in the ’70s and ’80s, which saw far more middle class lesbians taking over the community and rejecting the butches and femmes. It’s part of the reason why I’ve leaned into the butch identity. Being from a working class background also compounds the homophobia and butchphobia you’re confronted with, and it felt like there was much more stigma and shame. I didn’t know anyone who was a lesbian, I didn’t think it was a thing you could be until I was at university. But that’s why there’s something so important about being butch and participating in that cultural history.

I have several older butch women in my life who are some of the most important people I think I’ve ever met. Coming out was a really difficult time for me and I was incredibly grateful to have those women in my life. While it certainly feels like there aren’t many of us, out on the street you’re quite visible to each other. A nod of recognition or a moment of eye contact can sustain me through a whole day of being called ‘sir’, because I was seen for a second by somebody who understands what I am.

Even before I came out, ‘beauty’ was a term I hugely struggled with, but now I can see that of course I’m beautiful! I think women are beautiful, butch women are women, and therefore I am the most beautiful I’ve ever felt right now. I see my butchness as one kind of femininity on a three-dimensional spectrum of femininity. I don’t like being referred to as ‘masc-of-centre’ or having female masculinity – after years of trying to understand myself, I’m extremely comfortable identifying as a woman through understanding myself as a butch woman. I can’t deal with it being this kind of line where I’m closer to the men than I am extremely femme women. I feel like I have far more in common with high femmes than I do any cis man.

Even though I never identified as lesbian (I came out as queer when I was 17), I’ve always felt aligned with butchness. When I see someone else who claims the word ‘butch’, or presents in a way that you’d call a ‘traditional’ butch, I can relate to them immediately. Whether you’re a butch lesbian or masc-presenting woman, assigned-female-at-birth person or non-binary butch person, you’re hyper visible. Even when you try to assimilate, people seem to see through that and pick you out. When I was at school, I’d wear the ‘girls’ uniform, but people would still ask, “Are you a boy or a girl?” There’s something about the way you carry yourself, the way you act, that communicates that you’re not fitting into these traditional gender roles.

People feel like they can abuse masculine-presenting people for doing gender ‘wrong’. It’s the homophobic, queerphobic, transphobic phenomenon of not respecting people that you’re not attracted to. Butches are not trying to fit into heteronormative societal ideals. We’re not trying to be desirable for men, we’re not trying to be anything; we’re just living authentically and doing what makes us feel good. A dangerous way to live but it’s the only way I know how.

My gender and identity is a kind of soup: I identify as trans-masculine, masculine-of-centre, masc, butch, non-binary, which are all tied up together. I’ve always identified as genderqueer which manifests, for me, in being butch. It’s me pushing away who I was expected to be.

When I was a baby butch, ‘beauty’ was something that I never believed was for me, but my femme partner has really helped me to see the beauty in being butch. Instagram and Tumblr also helped me see people like me and see the inherent beauty we share. If I didn’t have that, I could easily be beaten down. I’m a black, butch, non-binary, trans-masculine person – that’s a specific niche you really have to seek out to be affirmed. Society isn’t telling us that we’re beautiful – we have to start telling each other.

We’ve come leaps and bounds in representation since I secretly watched Sugar Rush as a teenager, but people like me still aren’t included – largely because the creators and people with money are cis and straight. They’re still going to be catering towards a largely cis and straight audience who are open to mainly seeing the non-threatening forms of queerness we’ve been socialised to accept, like feminine lesbians and white, cis, gay men. Seeing the people that you would abuse on the street as beautiful in the media would completely be destabilising.

It affects you, because you see queer people on screen but they’re not like you, so you must not be desirable. We need to try to get more representation, we can’t just be having Shane from The L Word. It’s why seeing Lena Waithe being a butch-presenting, masculine-presenting beautiful black woman is huge! Watching Orange is the New Black and seeing different kinds of queer people expressing gender is huge. I want to see more of that. Let those young butches know that we’re out here and that you can live and be butch and be happy.

I’ve never been able to hide the fact that I am queer – people would look at me and know straightaway. I’ve tried to hide my butchness in the past but I just can’t. Whenever I tried to be more feminine it felt…wrong. So I’ve always associated being butch with being comfortable and confident in myself. I’ve had to learn that confidence from a very early age, even if I didn’t always feel it.

It’s only very recently I started using the word about myself. Before then, I’d always felt a bit nervous to identify in that way, even though I have many friends that do and they wear it with pride. I feel a lot of solidarity when I use the word ‘butch’ now.

I literally never saw anyone anywhere that looked like me when I was younger. Now you occasionally see representation, like on Orange Is The New Black you have Big Boo, but it wasn’t always positive connotations. Her character was painted as sleazy, like it’s part of her butchness. It was only when I started working in Dr. Martens in 2014 that I seriously did change the way I present and felt way more comfortable. I go out of my way now to follow people on social media who look like me. It’s quite important to always remind myself that there are people out there that look like me who are surviving and thriving. Though to be honest I still mainly follow animals.

There are always so many expectations of how I’ll behave, and I’m not always as ‘butch’ as people think I am. I am sometimes quite feminine in my mannerisms – people act really confused when I giggle in a very high-pitched tone, which I don’t really understand. Because at the end of the day, I still identify as a cis woman. I wish straight people could be a bit more flexible in how they see and categorise things, ‘cos I don’t get this from other LGBTQ+ people. They can’t compute me.

Growing up, I wouldn’t say I really ever considered myself beautiful. I struggled a lot with that. I’ve always known I’m not straight, but I also liked guys in school, though I never got attention from them. Even when I started presenting in a more masculine way and my partner would call me beautiful, I’d feel really uncomfortable with it and I’d ask her to use something like ‘handsome’ instead. I think it’s a gendered thing. You wouldn’t typically call someone masculine of any gender ‘beautiful’, you’d say handsome or something like that.

I also think [that] growing up I have distanced myself from feeling beautiful. Sometimes I don’t know if that’s because I feel uncomfortable with the way I have presented in the past, or just because I have grown up quite insecure and I’ve never really been viewed in that way. It could also be a mix of both of those things. In school, I got no attention whatsoever but when I started going out in queer spaces I was getting a lot of attention from people. At first I was really confused, I just wasn’t used to it – I thought people were taking the piss out of me or something. When I did start presenting in a more masculine way and started accepting who I am, I suddenly became a lot more confident and felt actually comfortable with myself and thought, Yeah! I actually look quite good, I do feel beautiful, I do feel good.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Photo Series: Older Members Of The Trans Community

Lena Waithe Shares Her Favorite LGBTQ+ Designers

An LGBTQ+ Pay Gap Exists & Here's The Proof

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Everything On Our Style Wish List For October

Generation Z & The Fast Fashion Paradox

The Real Cost Of Your #OOTD

Around three months into a new job, a few years ago, while I was running a daily news conference, my editor-in-chief tried to convince me to write about social mobility. I was the right person to write the piece, I was told, because, as the editor said, “I thought I grew up poor – but not as poor as you.”

What she knew of me was that my hometown, in Lincolnshire, was around 150 miles north of the media bubble I now inhabited and that I grew up with a single mum, a nurse. I laughed while the rest of the team squirmed and stared down into their computers. 

At the time I brushed it off but I’ve since asked myself and others: what is the correct way to address a comment like that? And what exactly does it constitute? Certainly it was aimed at my upbringing – the assumption that I come from a working class family was admittedly correct – and it was also embarrassing in its delivery. Not malicious, perhaps, but uncomfortable at best and undermining at worst.

Today, class discrimination is as insidious and difficult to spot as ever – and conversations around the issue are arguably still in their infancy. The Labour Party has called for a ban on fee-paying schools, which has reignited political debate about the role of public schooling, but most people are already living with the consequences of Britain’s class hierarchy, which plays out in workplaces all over the country. 

Among those who are “upwardly mobile” in the class system, there’s often an underlying feeling of acute imposter syndrome – and a learned attitude that it’s only the anomalies who “make it”, either because of a stroke of luck or dogged hard work. The resulting implication is that working class people who move in middle class circles or sectors should be in some way grateful for their position. And it’s bullshit. 

In practice, that attitude plays out as the “class pay gap”. Research from the UK Labour Force Survey estimates that working class people earn on average £6,800 per year (around 17%) less than their middle class colleagues in elite sectors like finance, medicine and law. The gap is largely due to differences in education, “occupational segregation” – whereby working class people are more likely to enter the workforce on a lower salary – and an overarching, deeply embedded system that favours the wealthy. Working class employees are also reportedly less likely to feel entitled to ask for a promotion or a pay rise. Perhaps unsurprisingly, when combined with other factors like gender, race, age and sexuality, the resulting gap is considerably worse. 

In short, the issue is a lot more impactful than simply being dubbed the token northerner in a London office and not being “able to take the joke”. So much so that last month the Trades Union Congress (TUC) called for an end to class discrimination in the UK and for new legal measures to be taken to protect workers from falling victim to it. Class prejudice, the TUC says, means that graduates from wealthier backgrounds are more than twice as likely to start on £30,000 as their working class peers. “We all deserve an equal chance in life, whatever our background,” Frances O’Grady, the TUC’s general secretary told Refinery29 UK. “But if you’re working class, the odds are stacked against you. Not only is that an injustice, it’s a waste of some of Britain’s best talent.” 

Sam Friedman and Daniel Laurison of the London School of Economics found plentiful evidence for this. In The Class Ceiling: Why It Pays To Be Privileged, they concluded that those from privileged backgrounds who attain a 2:2 degree from university are still much more likely to “get a top job than working-class students who went to the same universities and got a 1st”. Black British working class women have “average earnings in top jobs that are £20,000 less per year than those of privileged-origin white men,” they found.

“The government could make a difference by making class discrimination unlawful, just like for race, gender and disability,” O’Grady continues. “There should be a legal duty on public bodies to address class and income inequality. And it should be compulsory for employers to report their class pay gap.”

According to some reporting, the pay gap is highest in sectors like finance, technology and medicine – and, of course, the media. When the BBC revealed its own pay gap in the summer of 2017, the conversation (perhaps rightly) centred around its chronic gender and race gaps. But one conversation that didn’t get much light was the organisation’s class gap. If you think about it, class underpins and intersects with race and gender – it’s all part of the same picture. 

The data showed that 45% of the BBC’s highest paid employees went to private school. As Sky’s political correspondent, Lewis Goodall pointed out at the time, that compares to just 7% of the general population. 

Class discrimination plays out in many different ways and it’s time we started to have a meaningful conversation about it. Or so say these three women who spoke to Refinery29 about their experiences.

Holly Peacock-Goodwin, 32, a digital strategist from Co. Durham

“You don’t forget being called a ‘pit-yacker’ in a hurry. Especially at work. For those not in the know, that’s a gobby person from the mining communities up north. At the time I was a young employee in a predominantly older, white male London office. It was said in front of my other colleagues in my first week at the company. That was kind of the vibe from there on in. 

“My Durham accent is quite strong I suppose and has frequently become a talking point. People like to imitate it and mock the way I speak, which isn’t unusual, I suppose. But in the workplace it can be very off-putting – and it can feel like people just aren’t listening to what you’re saying because they’re focusing on the ‘entertaining’ way you’re saying it.

“The other connotations I’ve found associated with my northern, working class background are being deemed ‘aggressive’ in the way I speak, and thick. I remember discussing with a client how to best communicate a complex energy issue to the public. The conclusion was that we should ‘aim it at Geordies’ because ‘if they can understand it, anyone will’. I was told I wasn’t the ‘right fit’ to go in front of the board. Time and time again I couldn’t act authentically and, in turn, my confidence almost completely eroded.

“I quickly learned to send emails so I didn’t have to speak out loud as much. Around the same period of time, in my mid 20s, I remember trying to mask my inflections so much that an interviewer asked me where I was from and pointed out that my accent was ‘all over the place’. I began to write more to show my strengths – getting ahead in business is usually about having your voice heard and listened to, and because mine was so different to the status quo I was undoubtedly disadvantaged. No one can interrupt you on paper. 

“Now there’s a whole new set of connotations of being white, northern and working class. Thanks to the co-opting of this section of society by the likes of Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson, people assume you’re a Brexiteer. And years on from being called a ‘pit-yacker’ it still feels like it’s just accepted that it’s okay to cut someone down because of class. No one should have to respond to that. It’s not a joke, is it?” 

Mikai McDermott, 23, a freelance hairstylist from Newham, east London

“British society has a very false sense of meritocracy in the working world. And I think that very much parallels how we treat working class kids in school, and universities. It’s based around the idea that you just need to work hard and you will succeed and, really, it’s just not true. There’s no discourse around how privilege works – and how layers of privilege work. 

“I’m from a single-parent family in Newham. I would say I’m now technically middle class because of my job and further education (I’m currently studying for a master’s degree in empires, colonialism and globalisation at the London School of Economics and already have a degree from Warwick). Going to Warwick was my first encounter of being from a different class and from a minority ethnic group, I’d say. I didn’t even realise race was a ‘thing’ until 18 – at school I’d been surrounded by black and Asian kids who looked and spoke like me. I didn’t do grammar lessons, I didn’t do debating societies and I spoke in colloquialisms. It was a huge culture shock to suddenly have people commenting on my hair, the way I dress and the things I eat. 

“When I moved into the working world – especially during a brief stint in advertising after university – I found that I was often surrounded by people I just didn’t relate to. People who thought nothing of borrowing upwards of £10,000 from their parents, who spoke about the ‘bank of mum and dad’. I learned to keep quiet. I didn’t want them to find out that my family wasn’t like that. I didn’t want them to know that I was the odd one out. I suppose I was embarrassed. 

“Now I’ve developed a ‘professional’ voice but I still struggle when I’m confronted by classism or racism or both at work (it can be hard to tell where one ends and the other begins). I react defensively – while black public school kids learned to articulate and assimilate themselves better, I don’t feel as equipped for this I suppose. Much of what holds us back is access. Especially in creative industries, the expectation to work for free just to get a foot in the door is ludicrous. It means that whole sectors of society are completely written out of these jobs. It’s those structural issues that we need to urgently address. 

“In some aspects class is just as important as race in discussions about access and opportunity. The emerging black middle class is very separate from the lived experience of black and ethnic minority people in Britain, even from London. There’s not enough conversation about the nuances in race and class and how they interact. I’d like to see that change.” 

Nicola Slawson, 34, a journalist from Shrewsbury

“It’s the things that people don’t see – all the extra hoops you have to jump through just to get a glimpse at an opportunity – that really shows how class discrimination works in this country. At one point I was working literally around the clock – completing work experience at a publication in the day and assisting in a boarding school at night – just to be qualified to apply for a bursary scheme aimed at people like me.

“Thankfully, I was awarded the bursary and began a prestigious course at City, University of London and began lodging with an elderly lady in exchange for cheap rent. Not long after I started the course – with a load of very posh people and two others who were beneficiaries of the bursary – one of the other students turned to me and said that it was ‘great’ that ‘poor people like [me] can try to be a journalist’.

“Once I started working at a national newspaper things weren’t much different. While men with plummy accents on the same starter level as me were taken to lunches by very senior people, I was largely ignored and felt worried to speak up. I ended up being there for three years and it steadily eroded my confidence. I felt overwhelmingly like I didn’t fit in. A colleague made a point of taking in what I was wearing, paused, then said: ‘There’s a sale on in Whistles you know.’

“That kind of sums it up: this upper tier of people who casually wear expensive brands like Whistles and act like they’re saving the world. I would get so frustrated in ideas meetings where they told everyone to remember just how privileged we all were, and all the time I was barely surviving on the pay they gave me with no back-up. It all came from good intentions, but it’s ironic that you can’t even spot the privilege you have when you go looking for it. 

“People talk about ‘failure’ as a kind of abstract thing now that you can control – that you should just bounce back; learn from your mistake and move on. But there’s a misunderstanding that many of us just cannot afford to do that. If I make a mistake there’s no financial safety net waiting to catch me or cushion the blow. It’s my whole livelihood that goes. It means you live with a different kind of anxiety about work. The odds really are already stacked against us.”

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

BBC Reporter Interviews Her Boss About Wage Gap

Two Years After Me Too, What Has Actually Changed?

The Pros & Cons Of The 35-Hour Working Week

Ever since my first job at MTV working as a music programmer, I can’t stop trying to match people with music they might like. So, I wrote a book called Record Collecting for Girls and started interviewing musicians. The Music Concierge is a column where I share music I’m listening to that you might enjoy, with a little context. Get everything I’ve recommended this year on Spotify, follow me on Twitter or Facebook, and leave a comment below telling me what you’re listening to this week.

Jessie Reyez “Far Away”

Jessie Reyez shares a haunting song and video with this one, singing to a lover who can’t get papers to be in the same country and lamenting a government that keeps them apart. But in the video she takes on the divide between Trump supporters and immigrants, showing the all too real pain of families who are torn apart by ICE. The wistful tenor of her voice is as impactful and moving as the images of immigrants facing guns and tear gas.

Teenear “Dolla $igns”

If you missed the amplified snaps from early ’00s R&B, Teenear is bringing them back. They’re the star, along with her amazing voice, of this new track. The production here is reminiscent of something I’d expect to hear Usher or Ciara singing over from that time, but it has enough elements of new productions by Mustard and his ilk to still feel modern. What’s old and all-consuming is Teenear’s vocals. They sound steeped in history and sadness but are pushed forward in a way that’s very now. Don’t be surprised when this song hooks you.

Samantha Urbani “Made In Love”

How about a little dance party? I know I could use one. Samantha Urbani brings exactly what I want to it, with a callback to Stacey Q’s “Two of Hearts” beat and the spirit of early ’00s Kylie Minogue. There’s an ethereal vibe to the music that compliments her voice so nicely. I can’t get enough.

DRAMA “Hold On”

Speaking of dance parties, DRAMA keeps mine going with their new single. Am I happy or am I sad when I listen to this track? Is it gossiping about an ex or getting me to shake my booty? Some songs can do both. This Chicago duo have some kind of magic touch to make such an enjoyable song about what sounds like a breakup.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Justin Bieber Serenades Hailey In Music Video

How To Channel Elton John This Halloween

Get Cozy With This Playlist Of Fall's Best Music

If you love The Crown, get ready for some great news. Yes, season 3 is set to be released on November 17, but it gets better. The show’s creator, Peter Morgan, has just signed a multi-year contract with Netflix to create and develop shows and films for the streaming platform.

Morgan is the creative mind behind every episode of The Crown’s first two seasons. Because of him, the world of one of our favourite historical dramas goes round, but The Crown is far from Morgan’s only noteworthy credit. He has had a hand in numerous hit historical films, many of which have garnered him critical acclaim as a writer, in addition to two Oscar nominations. Morgan has writing credits for Bohemian Rhapsody, The Last King of Scotland, and The Other Boleyn Girl. His Oscar nominations come from writing credits for The Queen and Frost/Nixon. 

The Crown was a game changer for Netflix. It has brought in Emmys and Golden Globes for Claire Foy, who played Queen Elizabeth II in seasons 1 and 2, as well as awards for John Lithgow, who portrayed Winston Churchill. The series as a whole has also earned nominations for Outstanding Performance in a Drama Series for both seasons. Already, seasons 3’s release is eagerly awaited, even more so with the announcement that Olivia Colman would be taking over the role of the queen for the next two seasons. Among viewers, the sentiment is the same. Both season 1 and 2 have a 90% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Netflix has seen what the people want and is taking big steps to give them even more of it.

Morgan joins the ranks of fellow creators of wildly successful shows Shonda Rhimes and Ryan Murphy, who have also signed deals with Netflix to create new and compelling projects that will hopefully become the next most bingeable show. 

No rumours or announcements have been made as far as any potential projects, but if we had it our way, we would have endless beautifully-shot historical dramas forever.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

<em>The Crown</em> Announces Return Date With First Look

Gillian Anderson Is Margaret Thatcher In The Crown

These Are The Netflix Shows You'll Love This Fall

There’s a reason why the priest in Fleabag is referred to by fans as the Hot Priest. It’s not that complicated, and Phoebe Waller-Bridge, the creator of the show, knows it. 

“Fleabag came from a very personal place for me. It began as a way to get Andrew Scott to dress up as a priest and tell me that he loves me,” Waller-Bridge joked during her Saturday Night Live monologue. “It took me six years and two seasons to achieve it, but I did it.” 

Scott has garnered the undivided (read: thirsty) attention of literally everyone who has watched the show. We might have been confused at points as to whether Hot Priest’s back-and-forth with Fleabag was irresistible sexual tension or, at times, manipulative. We have rewatched the series and three things hold true: it’s a brilliant show, the speech at the wedding makes us cry every time, and Hot Priest’s allure is not easily articulated…until now.

During her inaugural SNL host monologue of what we hope is one of many more to come, Waller-Bridge attempted to explain why we all think Priest wasn’t a descriptive enough character name. “Obviously, Andrew is hot, but this priest character caused such a horn-storm,” said Waller-Bridge. “Andrew and I were trying to figure out what it was about him that was driving women so mental.” The answer is quite simple. Really, it’s not that deep. “We boiled it down and realised he was doing this one thing: listening. Really, really listening. Try it, guys,” Waller-Bridge said with a cheeky smile.

That goes for everyone. Quick tip: if you want to have the same inexplicable allure as the Hot Priest, active listening — and maybe sharing a couple cans of gin and tonic — are the way to most people’s hearts, and Fleabag proved it.

Watch the monologue here…

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Why Ben Stiller's Fleabag Joke Fell Flat

These Emmys After-Party Looks Were Award Winning

The Best Instagrams From The 2019 Emmy Awards

Congress never had a chance. In Succession’s penultimate episode, the Roy Squad swarms our national’s fine and totally-not-corrupt capital in a Trump-meets-Kardashian political outing, with enough drama and corruption to last us until next week’s finale. 

Before we get into the recap, a quick history lesson! The motto of Washington D.C. is “Justitia Omnibus,” meaning “justice for all.” The phrase appears on the corporate seal of the district, which depicts a man standing on what appears to be the shoulders of a woman. Those same words close out our country’s “Pledge of Allegiance,” as taught to me by years in the public school system. One place this concept doesn’t exist? Within the halls of a Senate hearing in which Waystar Royco is being questioned. No one’s getting justice, and there is no “all,” only one: Logan (Brian Cox).

“DC” opens with a frat party in Logan’s den: the Roy boys are watching a 20/20-esque special about the allegations against Brightstar Cruise Line. In the report, Lester McClintock, Gerri Killman (J. Smith Cameron), Kendall Roy (Jeremy Strong), and Tom Wamsgans (Matthew Macfadyen) are specifically named, and tied to the coverups. The team’s initial plan is say “Fuck ‘em” to the allegations and basically discredit the company’s whistleblower, James Weisel. But then an old friend of Siobhan Roy’s (Sarah Snook) pops up: Senator Gil Eavis (Eric Bogosian). He calls for a Congressional hearing regarding the allegations, but what he really wants is to finally see Logan burn. (Quick Logan enemy count ahead of the finale: The Pierces, Stewy [Arian Moayed], Sandy [Larry Pine], Gil, and Marcia [Hiam Abbass] — who doesn’t appear at all this episode.)

Gerri dismisses the hearing as no more than just “C-SPAN filler,” but reality sets in once the Roys and their inner-circle arrive in D.C. and realise that Gil not only has an advantage by sparring with Tom (who is asked about a series of 67 emails sent to Greg [Nicholas Braun] with the subject line: “You can’t make a Tomlette without breaking some Greggs“), but he also has a key witness against Lester. What with her being more than willing to share her story, and the shareholders meeting only weeks away, Waystar is in big, big trouble. 

This is a mess, but it’s also part of Shiv’s plan from “Dundee.” Remember, Rhea Jarrell (Holly Hunter) is CEO now, so she’ll take most of the heat for any failures in the board meeting, opening up a seat at the head of the table for Shiv once again. While part of Shiv’s plan works — in the final scene of the episode, Rhea tells Logan she’s out; there are too many bodies in the closet — she also doesn’t quite account for the idiots in the room: Her brothers.

Roman Roy (Kieran Culkin) has been on the sidelines, business-wise, for most of this season, but that all changes when he’s held hostage at a hotel in Turkey while trying to convince a bajillionaire to purchase Waystar Royco in the event that the company gets fucked at the Congress hearing. Tasked with this high-level assignment, Roman immediately tells his dad he is...what’s the word…unqualified. But Logan doesn’t care.

“You act the fuck knuckle, but people like you,” Logan tells him, ending the debate, and sending him off with Laird (Danny Huston) and Carl (David Rasche) in tow to provide a back-up plan if things in D.C. go sour. 

It turns out Roman is a great hostage negotiator — not in terms of negotiating himself and dozens of other hostages free from being withheld in a Turkish hotel, but in terms of negotiating deals for his dad while being a hostage. He gets a verbal confirmation that his new billionaire bestie and his dad are down to purchase Waystar and take it private. And suddenly, just like that, Roman isn’t such a bad idea for a successor after all… at least in the eyes of Logan, who is clearly more confident in his youngest child than he lets on. (By, you know, emotionally and physically knocking him down at every opportunity.) He finally did something right! And it was pretty easy for him to pull off. “Should we see if any of the other hostages want to cut a deal?” he jokes. 

Honestly, all the kids pull through for an undeserving Logan in this episode. Roman cinches his deal, Kendall gracefully saves the hearing by calling Gil out for personal bias against ATN, and Shiv successfully convinces Gil’s key witness to not take the stand. Originally, Rhea was supposed to take care of the witness with Shiv — “soft skills lady-duty shitwork” — but when the car arrives at the playground where the witness is playing with her kid, Rhea sits it out. “You don’t have to do this,” she tells Shiv, not understanding just how badly Shiv wants to impress her dad and get the company. Rhea isn’t cut from the Roy cloth, so she just doesn’t get just how fucked up this family is.

Logan’s kids accept Logan for his aggression, deceit, and greed, but it’s all too much for Rhea. Instead of her being pushed out, as Shiv hoped, she willingly steps down because she’s scared of Logan. He’s a liar, and she can’t trust liars. “You know who I am,” he tells her, almost begging her to stay on as CEO. “I don’t know if you care about anything,” she replies. “And it scares me.”

The natural response to someone being told that they are scary, intimidating, and morally bankrupt is for them to sit back and take a minute to reflect. But Logan’s a bloodthirsty businessman. No reflection. No apologies. He wants a “blood sacrifice” (I really hope he doesn’t mean this literally…) to ensure the shareholder’s happiness, so someone’s definitely getting fired. Someone big. Shiv clearly thinks she’s caught her dad’s eye with her commitment to him by the episode’s end, but is it enough for him to see her as more than just his token smart child?

Shockingly, the Kendall’s daddy rap did NOT come up once, which is clearly an oversight as we all know that is all anyone would be talking about. 

Cousin Greg’s Corner:

Greg cuts ties with his grandpa  — losing his chance at inheriting $250 million  — after his pep talk with Uncle Logs in Scotland. He really feels a part of the family,  without knowing just how rich his extended family is. He tells Connor (Alan Ruck) and Tom that even without the quarter of a million, he’s still inheriting $5 mill as a back-up, which is apparently…trash. “Five will drive you un poco loco, my friend,” Connor tells him, explaining it’s not enough to retire, and will make him feel like the “poorest rich person in America.”

I’d also like to remind everyone that Greg literally has stolen incriminating documents hidden in apartment (aka Kendall’s flop house). His name was also brought up during the hearing, which means he’s on everyone’s radar. This cruise drama is so far from over.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Let's Talk About Kendall Roy's Daddy Rap

<em>Succession </em>Vs. <em>Billions</em>: Which One Wins?

Good News For Fans Of The Crown

Ruth Glenn says strangers often try to change the subject when she tells them what she does for a living. “It’s such an unpleasant topic and they get uncomfortable,” explains Glenn, the CEO and president of the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. A survivor herself, Glenn understands the reaction, but says it’s something that people should take the time to understand. Each year, more than 12 million women and men — 24 people per minute, on average — are victims of rape, physical violence, or staking by an intimate partner in the U.S., according to the National Domestic Violence Hotline. It’s more prevalent than you’d think, and could someday impact you or someone you know. It’s worth taking the time to understand it, and the many forms it can take. 

“When you say ‘domestic violence,’ there’s the expectation that there’s been some physical harm to someone,” Glenn explains. “In fact, that’s not always the case. Domestic violence can and does take many forms.” The kinds of altercations you see in shows like Big Little Lies that involve hitting, kicking, and pushing are just one facet of what it can look like. Glenn says it’s important for people to understand this, so they can identify when they’re being mistreated in a relationship or when their loved ones are in trouble. Just in time for Domestic Violence Awareness Month, here are different forms abuse can take to be mindful of.

If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, please call the National Domestic Violence Helpline on 0808 2000 247.

Emotional 

Glenn says that emotional abuse is one of the most damaging forms — and one of the hardest to recognise. “It involves putting the victim down and crazy-making,” Glenn says. “Telling them they’re not worth anything, or ‘go ahead and leave, no one else will take you.’ It might mean threatening to take their children away.” Glenn says that it’s “torture” to be manipulated in this way. “It takes away a survivor’s autonomy by tearing them down,” she says. It can come in the form of insults, criticism, gaslighting, ignoring, or even forcing a victim to take drugs or alcohol, according to the Arizona Coalition to End Sexual & Domestic Violence. 

If you think this could be happening to someone close to you, Glenn says you might subtly help them recognise the abuse by asking them questions such as: “You used to be so energetic, what’s going on?” Or: “Is something going on? When you’re ready to talk I’m here.” You can do this gentle prompt with other forms of abuse, too.

Sexual 

Glenn explains that this could come in the form of partner or marital rape, or forcing sex on another person who did not give consent. It also could take the form of a perpetrator tricking or forcing someone into getting pregnant. 

According to ACESDV, it could also involve using guilt, manipulation, or forcing someone to have specific sexual experiences that they don’t want. 

Financial

This can take a few different forms, Glenn explains. The abuser might direct deposit the survivor’s paycheck into an account they never see, or not allow them to work at all. “A victim could also be given an allowance, or a certain amount to spend on themselves and the children per week,” Glenn explains. “The perpetrator might have run up the victim’s credit so she has a harder time leaving. We’ve even seen cases where they forge signatures on important financial documents.”

Maria Veltre, Chief Marketing and Digital Officer, Santander Bank, explains that this kind of abuse makes it “difficult, if not impossible, to ‘just leave.’”

Financial abuse is tricky to identify and remedy, Glenn explains. However, there are resources. NNEDV offers financial literacy programs women can take via webinar to try to get out of their situation. And, Santander Bank has partnered with them to fund a micro-loan program, which allows survivors to establish and, in many cases, repair their credit score.

Physical 

This is easier to identify, but still hard to come to terms with. It could be physically aggressive behavior, the withholding of physical needs, or indirect harmful behavior, according to the ACESDV. That can mean anything from slapping to withholding food to injuring someone’s child or pet to trapping someone in a room. 

Control

Glenn says that domestic abuse is often about a perpetrator wanting to have control over their partner. This can take the form of some of the things already on this list, but it can also mean stalking them, or keeping tabs on their whereabouts. They might measure their gas tank, and make the victim answer questions about where they’ve been. They could put spyware on their phone, so they can see who they’re talking to. It also could mean isolating a survivor from their friends and family, Glenn says. 

“When we talk about abuse, we can’t do that without talking about power and control,” Glenn says. 

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

The Housing Crisis Kept Me With An Abusive Partner

Two Years After Me Too, What Has Actually Changed?

A Comprehensive History Of #MeToo

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

H&M’s Latest Designer Collab Is Rihanna-Approved

Victoria’s Secret Is Dead Says Rihanna (Probably)

Fenty Is Already Pushing Inclusivity

For the renter generation, living rooms provide an essential communal space to chat, eat, watch TV and crash out. Yet despite our love of (and need for) living rooms, London house shares are increasingly depriving tenants of proper living spaces, with nine out of 10 now being rented out without any communal living area at all. 

The statistic, which was published as part of a wider report by The Times, tells us much of what we already know about the perils of renting, including the increasing number of landlords letting out living spaces as extra bedrooms for increased profit.

Disappearing living rooms bring a host of problems, affecting tenants’ socialisation, mental health and overall wellbeing. According to statistics from SpareRoom (from a survey carried out in 2019 with 11,000 respondents), 20% of people aged 20-30 in London don’t have a living room at all, and 12% have no living room but have some sort of kitchen/diner instead.

The research shows that young people are now occupying smaller living spaces than ever before, with designated social spaces quickly becoming a thing of the past. Because of this, increasing numbers of young renters are creating makeshift spaces to meet their social needs, with many cramming sofas and tables and chairs into kitchens and even bedrooms.

We spoke to three women in London living without living rooms about how it affects their relationships, social lives, mental health and more. Scroll through to see inside their homes…

Angela, 33, White City

Given that you don’t have a living room, where do you spend most of your time in the house?

In my bedroom. 

What do you do when you have friends over?

I stopped having friends over because I don’t have the space to host them. I used to rent a place that was much bigger than my current one, so I used to have friends over for dinner and for drinks, but now I have stopped inviting people because I don’t have space. I don’t even have a table in the kitchen, so it is quite annoying. I bought a very small table to eat dinner on in my bedroom, but it doesn’t leave me much space. For a couple of days this summer my friends came over to visit me from Italy and we had to have dinner on the table in my bedroom. 

Did the lack of living room bother you when you first looked at the property? 

When I was looking at moving to my current place I had doubts because there wasn’t a living room or even a table in the kitchen, and I didn’t want to have breakfast and dinner in my bedroom. But because it was close to my office and it was clean, I took it. 

Do you think the lack of living space affects your relationship with your housemates?

Yes. I live with two girls and it is definitely affecting our relationship because we only meet in the kitchen while we are making our dinner. Most of the time, especially on weekdays, you are a bit stressed so you just want to make your dinner, have a shower and go to bed. So when we meet in the kitchen there is only a little bit of chat, I don’t have the chance to speak to them more in depth. 

Do you think that not having a living room affects your mental wellbeing?

At the beginning it was hard, because in my previous place I used to have a big kitchen and a big living room and I used to meet my flatmates in there, so at the beginning it was quite weird, but now I have gotten used to it. I don’t know if at some point I might have a freak-out because I don’t have any space to socialise. 

What do you miss about having a living room?

It’s a space where you can actually socialise with your housemates, because you live with them and you need to know about them and what is going on with their lives. Most of the time, you’re going to live with them for months or even years, and if you don’t have a living room you don’t have the chance to speak to them and the relationship doesn’t grow. The living room is the place where you can have a chat with your flatmates, or where you can invite your friends over.

If you move again, would a living room be a high priority for you when looking for a new space? 

Yes, definitely. 

Poppy, 27, Holloway

Given that you don’t have a living room, where do you spend most of your time in the house?

Literally sitting on my bed.

What do you do when you have friends over?

I tend not to have friends over. I prefer to go out because there isn’t a comfortable space to hang out in the house. The kitchen is very small and there are only three chairs, so it isn’t really an option to have them over. 

Did the lack of living room bother you when you first looked at the property? 

It bothered me less than other factors, such as the lack of a clothes dryer or me drawing the short straw for the only room with a single bed instead of a double. Over time I’ve felt increasingly confined to my room for lack of a comfortable alternative.

Do you think that the lack of living space affects your relationships with your housemates? 

Definitely. Because the kitchen is the only shared space, you feel like you have to be in a conversation, or you shouldn’t be in the room. It isn’t like you can just go in the living room and sit down and watch TV together or have some quiet time in a shared capacity. If you don’t want to be in conversation, then there is no other space for you to have the comfort of sharing a space with someone without actively engaging in chat. There is no room to have incidental conversations that build rapport, it is either purposeful and direct or not at all. I don’t have the sort of space where you can sit down and have a cup of tea together or open a bottle of wine and just relax into the interaction. You have to have a reason to be in the kitchen. 

Do you think that not having a living room affects your mental wellbeing?

I think so. Moving from Australia has been quite an isolating experience as I am away from familiar environments and people and communities. I find that here I spend more time by myself in my room than I would naturally, just because I don’t have a comfortable living space. If I am having a crappy day I feel like I have to retreat because there is no option to decompress in space where you can seek comfort in other bodies without having to say ‘Hey I need to talk to someone because I had a bad day’. Conversation has to be purposeful and planned and engaged, it can’t just be a casual, regular interaction. 

What would you say you miss most about having a living room?

I miss a cosy space, somewhere that is soft with cushions and blankets and maybe some music playing, or the TV just humming in the background or something like that. When you are in a kitchen you feel like you need to be cleaning, it is not a relaxing, comforting space. I miss those creature comforts of warmth and gentleness and cosiness. Also London is just fucking cold.

If you move again, would a living room be a high priority for you when looking for a new space?

Yeah, definitely. I just need somewhere where a living room is valued as well. I want to talk to future housemates about how necessary it is to have that casual comforting interaction and just a place to share your day with someone over a cup of tea. I live with the people I am studying with and so we all just come home, cook our food and go to our rooms because we need a bit of space, but it would be nice when I am not in that situation to just build a rapport with the people that I live with, because it is a relationship as much as anything else.

Emily, 24, Haggerston

Given that you don’t have a living room, where do you spend most of your time in the house?

When it was warmer, we spent time outside, out on the balcony. But obviously it’s too cold to do that now, so we either spend time in the kitchen, or in my room because it is the biggest. My bedroom was the original living room so there’s enough space for both of us to sit on my bed or on my desk or whatever, so we mostly spend time there.

What do you do when you have friends over?

My bedroom desk is huge so it is basically a dining room table, so if I have more than two people round then I have to go into my room. There are only two spaces at the kitchen table so there isn’t really enough room for more than three people in the kitchen at a time because it just becomes a bit too crowded.

Did the lack of living room bother you when you first looked at the property?

Not really because I had a living room where I lived before but I didn’t really use it. I was a lodger in someone’s house, in a family house. So it was kind of the family living room so I didn’t really ever feel like I wanted to get in their way, or be in their face. So even though I had a really big living room, I kind of got used to just having my bedroom, and just using my bedroom as my living space, my workspace and just everything space.

Do you think that the lack of living space affects your relationships with your housemates?

I think it means that we are forced to spend a lot of time together when we come back from work because there’s nowhere to kind of just sit and watch TV or be away from the other person unless you shut yourself in your room. At the moment we probably get on better because we are spending so much time together, but maybe in the future, it might be like we’re on top of each other all the time, and it might be too much.

Do you think that not having a living room affects your mental wellbeing?

The house I lived in at uni didn’t have a living room and that did have a negative impact on me because we didn’t end up spending any time together and a lot of my flatmates would just sit in their rooms and I wouldn’t really see them. In my current flat, there are only two of us, so when we get back from work we want to chat and we can just sit in the kitchen or in my room, we don’t really shut ourselves away, so it’s okay. In London you just get used to living in really small flats, and I think that is what has an effect on your mental health, because you are always just longing for more space.

What would you say you miss most about having a living room?

I miss having a space to put things that don’t belong in your bedroom, because you end up having to put all your belongings in one room. I have a study area in my room and I have everything that I brought from home in one room. I work from home a lot, so when I need to do work I have to do it in my bedroom or go out, and sometimes I find that being in the room that you sleep in is really unproductive. Even though I have a desk, it’s still the place where I’ve just woken up, so it’s hard to get motivated. If I had a living room I could do work in there instead of in my room. Also just having extra space, just more room in your flat in general.

If you move again, would a living room be a high priority for you when looking for a new space?

I don’t think so. I’d rather live with the right people or have a flat in the right area or that has a nice vibe than have a living room. For me, it is more important who I am living with and where I am living than having the extra space. 

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

How Much People In Their Twenties Spend On Renting

How To Give Your Rented Space A Mini Makeover

Is Rent Control About To Change London Forever?