Last week, I watched Dear Little Loz at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, a one woman semi-autobiographical show about growing up in Blackpool, craving the attention of a removed father and as a result, chasing male validation ever after. The show resonated with me, as a girl who also grew up in Blackpool, who also craved attention from my detached dad, and who (admittedly) has also spent my formative years relying on male approval as a way to feel powerful.
However, what the show really made me think about was the stark difference between sex culture in working class cities, towns and spaces in comparison to the more middle class+ ones. Although I know that sexism of course still very much exists in middle class spaces and I don’t mean to invalidate anyone’s struggles, overt sexism is a lot more common in working class areas. As someone who has lived in Blackpool and afterwards in a gentrified middle-class area of London the difference in sexual attitudes is very noticeable.
In my opinion, the main reason why sexual behaviour is more overtly destructive in working class areas is because gender roles tend to be more traditional and consequently imbalanced. Not yet are the people of Blackpool quite so girl-bossified as your London folks. The men are more masculine and have it ingrained into them that vulnerability should be hidden and the women are more feminine and reliant on male approval. It’s very much ingrained into the culture. A Saturday night revolves around sex, the girls dress to impress and the boys are ‘out on the pull’. Of course nothing I’m saying is new.
It’s no wonder that there’s such a focus on sex in working class areas. I know what it’s like to grow up in a small and crappy town. There’s little to do, and there’s little to talk about- it’s rare to have conversation that goes beyond the minor events that take place within the town. Consequently there’s little hope and little inspiration. You can understand why sex becomes a bigger part of what people rely on for purpose and validation.
Finally, not only sexual relations, but relations in general in working class areas can be quite toxic. Growing up in Blackpool, you see all around you anger- a mother screeching at her child, a guy pushing around his girlfriend, school kids fighting. These are pained people, people who have been let down by life, who feel an injustice has been done to them. And guess what? Hurt people hurt people. It’s a knock on effect. Your dad has that problem because his mum had that problem and her dad had that problem and his dad had that problem. Of course middle class people have their own troubles and maybe they’re just less publicly visible, but from what I have seen and experienced, I believe that in working class areas, trauma is common, and consequently so are destructive relationships.
That’s how you end up with situations like the one in Dear Little Loz. We see Loz isn’t getting the attention she desires from her father. Half of the time he makes her feel special, the other half he is absent, and one one occasion aggressive. Loz seeks male validation elsewhere. We witness a first date scene at a Blackpool nightclub, between Loz and an older guy, ‘Dodgy Dave’. He’s below average, incredibly boring, disrespectful and even worse, he smells like sour cream Pringles. But Loz is so desperately seeking something, someone, to make her feel wanted that she justifies Dave’s crappiness in any way she can. After he bails on her as she’s being sick in the bathroom, she picks on herself, trying to figure out why he left- was it her high heels? Was it her hairdo? It’s shitty to watch because we all know that Loz doesn’t deserve to be treated this way, and even worse, she blames his behaviour on herself. It’s an early experience that will stick with her, it’s what she will learn to expect from her relationships with men. And to me it’s all too real. I’ve seen situations like this a million times before with strangers in Blackpool but also close friends. The bar for men is set way too low, and women are willing to accept all sorts of abuse because it’s become normal.
When middle class people (normally men) tell me that sexism no longer is relevant I feel angry. Maybe it seems that way because in your workplace environment in central London ‘the women are super dominant’, or in your gentrified neighbourhood the men ‘wouldn’t be caught dead catcalling’, but this isn’t a reality for the majority of the UK. I don’t want to be bitter- I know It’s very easy to forget about these issues when you don’t live in a working class area or mix in working class spaces. After going to university with many yah-yah southerners and then living in London for some years, I’ve gotten used to going on nights out that focus on the music and wholesome interactions rather than on wearing high heels and waiting for boys to come and speak to you. Nights out no longer end in tears over boys or vomiting because you have nothing else to do but to drink yourself into oblivion and try and fill a void. The society that I live in feels a little more equal, at least on the surface.
However, as soon as I go home to Blackpool, I am reminded of the feeling of hopelessness in seemingly frozen-in-time working class towns and the consequences of that lack of progression. I witness sexism as something still very accepted- men openly groping women in the clubs, toxic masculinity in the pubs, teenage girls being manipulated by older men, friends of mine who have been completely broken by their boyfriends but still pine for their love. To put things into perspective, there is a bar in Blackpool with a sign at the door that claims to openly accepts sexual harassment. This is when I remember that I am privileged to live in London.
Dear Little Loz is an important piece of theatre that reminded me of where I come from, and hopefully more art like this will be seen by those who don’t quite understand the deeply ingrained sexism within working class culture and the issues that it creates. I never want to be ignorant. Let’s keep bursting out of our bubbles.
Dear Little Loz runs at Edinburgh Fringe until 27th August.
Iso
Iso is a writer and filmmaker based in East London. She is passionate about all things erotic and leads a sexy, shame-free life in hope that she can inspire others to do the same. Originally from a Northern seaside town, she is naturally drawn to the best things in life: candyfloss, trashy karaoke bars and heart-shaped sunglasses.
