We Need to Stop Calling Young Girls Bossy

From a young age, I was always told that I was a bossy person, and I just accepted it and took it as the criticism it was intended to be. Thinking back to when I was labelled bossy, it was when I took charge of a task and put myself in a leadership position in order to do something. This adjective has never been used to describe one of my male friends, but many of my determined female friends.

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When I’m Angry I Write Letters: A Photo Series

Writing letters is something a therapist suggested to me as a way to cope with my emotions. It was a very difficult time for me; in one year I had endured a sexual assault and also had made attempts to take my own life. I was angry at everything and had grown reliant upon unhelpful practices like substance abuse, disordered eating and self harm. I told her about a typewriter I had and we thought together it would be cathartic to punch out my thoughts onto paper and keep them somewhere safe. That way they wouldn’t be in my head anymore.

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Clitbait’s Recreate Art Series- ‘The Two Fridas’ by Frida Kahlo

Go read more about this incredible painting in an article by our wonderful Arts and Culture Editor (and organiser of the recreate art series!), Manvir Dobb: The Two Fridas and finding the balance between normalcy and reality. Manvir explores how Kahlo grappled within her disconnected and counter selves as well as reflecting on our relationships with ourselves in Lockdown.

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The Two Fridas and finding the balance between normalcy and reality

A few days ago a large number of houses in central Edinburgh experienced a power cut. My phone was on 5% so I went to charge it and then realised that I couldn’t do that. I also had to go to the loo and as I made the trepid journey out of the safety of my covers into the dark abyss of all two metres I tried to turn the bathroom light on but also couldn’t do that.

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CB Recommends: Black Scottish Artists

Black artists have traditionally been marginalised from the mainstream conversation, despite their respective brilliance. Since the majority of our team is based in Scotland, we thought we would shift focus and shine some light on some of our favourite Black Scottish artists…

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Clitbait’s Recreate Art Series – The Statue of Liberty

Here is the gallery for our second recreation in our recreate art series! For those of you that don’t know, we have decided to invite the Clitbait community to join us in recreating a piece of art for each of our monthly themes! Since this month’s theme is independence, we have decided that the recreation will be the Statue of Liberty!

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Clitbait Recommends

A while ago, we reached out to a few of our favourite feminists for their feminist recommendations for books, films or albums. As predicted, we received brilliant and inspiring submissions. Have a scroll down to check them all out!

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Clitbait’s Recreate Art Series – Fanny Eaton by Joanna Boyce

For those of you who don’t know, every month we have decided to recreate a piece of art that goes along the lines of the theme of the month. Since this month’s theme is beauty, we decided to honour the Pre-Raphaelite model, Fanny Eaton. Eaton was a black Pre-Raphaelite muse, and as a result beat many beauty standards of her time. She was a symbol of diversity in beauty which is something we strongly stand for here at Clitbait…

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I long for the life I built for myself 

With bricks that came from a place within that I didn’t know was there 

With confidence that had lain low for years 

I plucked the plumbing from my chest and built friendships 

And from there the foundations were steady and firm 

We tiled the bathroom with our insecurities and painted over them 

And hung lightbulbs in the dark parts of each other. 

We aired our laundry in the open, and learned to love the creak of the crooked floorboards 

We cemented the walls with shared experience and covered them with pictures of us 

There’s no fight in the world a string of fairy lights won’t fix. 

I long to return to the life we all built 

Through women building up women 

Through endless wine nights and conversations. 

I went looking for an education 

And with it found a lifetime’s worth of company 

Robyn Barclay

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Interpreting the Self in Quarantine Compilation

Earlier this month, we reached out to several talented artists on Instagram asking them to explore the shift in their relationship to themselves through their artwork. As predicted, the artists have interpreted the lockdown differently, each pointing to something hopeful and affirming…

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Interpreting the Self in Quarantine #2

Currently, I do not know what my sense of self is. I don’t know where she went. I don’t know if I want beans or peas with my dinner, I don’t know what time I should go to sleep, I don’t know what to wear for another day of the panny-D (an expression I have recently used to add a bit of light chic to the situation). What I do know is…

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Some Quarantine Culture

For those of us who are locked-down in our homes, working remotely or just trying to fend off the anxiety of unending news updates, it can often feel like we are trapped and unable to enjoy what we once did…

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The Best Kind of Self-Care

I know what the best form of self-care is. Unionising. The pandemic is widening the cracks in our society every day, and the divide between rich and poor has never been starker. But lo, light out of the darkness: Amazon workers in Chicago have won paid time off by forming the organisation Amazonians United and presenting a petition to upper management…

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Dear Past Me, You got this!

Dear Past Me,

work hard and you’ll get there. its not about an end journey, more enjoying every step along the way! stay true to yourself and your goals, focus on what you’re best at and remember that perseverance and believing in yourself will be your best tools for building your future. you got this!’

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A Decade in Tomes

The last ten years has offered up an eclectic range of new fiction that has challenged and changed how and what we read. Below, I’ve collected a handful of iconic or influential books of the last 10 years that show how new stories are being welcomed onto our shelves…

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There’s lines all over my life 
Some stand between myself and others 
Building boundaries where I am finally comfortable 
Others are queues I stand in watching everyone get goals before me 
Grades, graduation, validation, varying 
Levels of success that others say are normal

Years of learning to read a certain way 
This works for everyone so why cant it work for you? 
A high school’s worth of adaptation and confrontation that 
This isn’t working for me but I found what does.
The lines in my life move, scrambled like scrabble 
3 points for a B but only if it doesn’t look like a D.
Years of minding my Ps and Q’s because apparently they differ
Pardon my politeness for I am slow 

Reading aloud always sounds like a eulogy 
Mourning the loss of the words I meant to say 
Instead the brain substitutes and institutes an easier alternative 
For me to manage and say 
Or stutter and stammer and try to force out 
Only to be told
you got it wrong again 

Numbers make sense to me in a different way 
I can read it once then say another 
Yet warped, reversed and wrong 
Calculations feel like abrasions, after a while it got better 
Chipping away at the wall between the eyes and the brain
Eventually gluing things together 
Excuse my intelligence for I am slow

Diagnosis is a word I can hardly spell 
And something I hardly gained 
Hours of ‘tell me what is wrong in this line’ 
when I’m looking at a circle
Expressing myself and grasping for explanations I can’t find
I know the words but I don’t know the words
An adult treated like a child because it took too long to notice 
Reconciliation works slowly and silently 

Getting to the right people was half the battle 
The other half is writing my name on the moving line 
Extra time for reading and dreaming of when 
My ability matches my capability.
Frustration of how little I can push myself but, 
Forgive my fortitude for I am not slow 

K Robertson

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i’ve built a house

i’ve built a house

i’ve built a house upon my shoulders
there i will reside
until there comes a time
when it is safe to go outside

i live alone, but every night
a stranger comes to stay
She never introduced herself,
but i’m too shy to say

it’s dark inside our nest
my lamp, the guardian of the tide
the chimney’s always smoking
but it’s still so cold inside

i a baby bird, and She
the swallower of my screams
the monster who knows all
but is unknowable to me

we built a house together
but She’s thrown away the key.
i hope She lets me out tonight
for i can barely breathe.

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Spotlight(s) on the Booker Prize 2019

It has been well documented, at this point, that the Booker Prize 2019 result took us all by surprise. Between them, Bernardine Evaristo (‘Girl, Woman, Other’) and Margaret Atwood (‘The Testaments’) took home equal halves of the money, but not necessarily equal halves of the spotlight…

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