Elise Britten
Sample of Work
Opinion Pieces
I may not be a hardcore fan, but I’m allowed to miss Liverpool Captain Steven Gerrard (March 2015)
All of us football-clueless with football-mad partners have been there. We have sat in living rooms and pubs disguised in oversized team shirts. We have willed ourselves to stop asking questions. We have tried to blend in, but have often felt like a peacock in a field of pigeons. Our celebrations have sometimes been delayed by a quick check of our partner’s reaction, to make sure that it is in fact our team that has scored. After the game, we might have tried to make some comment on the performance of the one or two players we might actually know. For me, Steven Gerrard was one of these players. Now that he is leaving English football, I will need to pick up another name to hide behind. Yet I feel a loss greater than that of losing a prop in an act. What can explain my great affection for the Liverpool captain?
I enjoy being involved in sports, but I am certainly not someone who proclaims herself as a major football fan. In fact, the multi-billion pound industry that is contemporary English football, sits uneasily with my anti-capitalist tendencies. The billions that change hands in transfer fees, sponsorships and broadcasting rights seems to have demolished the previous identity of football as the sport of the working class. Yet the team on the online forum of “Soccer Politics” offer a great analogy that “money may be the god to football’s religion, but the fans are the followers, and if there is no faith in the game, than there is no money to be made.”
But what does having “faith” in the game really mean? Is it simply a matter of enjoyment? Is it just about tuning into a particular game and appreciating the show of talent? I certainly don’t need to be too involved to be able to giggle at my favourite Gerrard chant when it is cheekily relayed:
Stevie Gerrard Gerrard,
He'll pass the ball 40 yards,
He's big and he's fooking ‘ard, (*scouse accent added)
Stevie Gerrard Gerrard.
Yet any ardent football fan will tell you that this is not the full story. When we cheer for a team, we take part in something much bigger than just the individual game. Hannah Parkinson in her “Diary of a Female Fan” (a much better fan than me!) recalls the night of the “Miracle of Istanbul” where Liverpool came back from being down 3-0 at half-time, to winning the 2005 Champions League on penalties. “Afterwards, we all went streaming up to Allerton Road, the streets a carnival of red, pubs staying open all night, horns blaring and lungs singing. I still get goosebumps watching highlights of that game, more than any other.”
Gerrard lifting the Champions League trophy after the Miracle of Istanbul, 25th of May 2005.
Photograph: Liverpool FC website
I have never been such a diehard fan of a football club, but I have shared in this adulation. The details of all the games I went to at my local football stadium growing up blend together in my memory. Yet the sense of euphoric celebration upon a significant victory will always feel sharp in my mind; the chants still echoing while we stream out of the stadium, the cheers piercing the night at random intervals and the horns blaring from cars as I floated homewards on a tide of exhilaration.
Yet perhaps even more poignant is the shared comradery of a loss. In fact, when watching a Liverpool game, I feel most emotional to hear the club song rising from the stands when times are dire:
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart,
And you'll never walk alone...
You'll never walk alone.
This share in the joy and pride of winning and the solidarity of losing, illustrates a deep-rooted sense of community in sport. Another Liverpool legend, Bill Shankly, is remembered for his iconic quote: “football is not a matter of life and death... it's much more important than that.” For many, a sporting team is akin to a religion; devoutly followed and deeply invested in. Yet sport is a centre of identity formation even for those not involved in sports directly, as communities are linked together through their local or national sporting reputations. Perhaps never more so than in relation to soccer; the world’s biggest sport. Historian Eric Hobsbawm once explained that “the imagined community of millions seems more real as a team of eleven named people.”
I am a clear example of how our relationship with sport goes beyond strict involvement. I became an honorary Liverpool fan when I met my partner in 2012. I was not witness to much of Liverpool’s “glory days,” yet I feel connected to the past as part of the current. My affection for Stevie G and cuddly Kenny Dalglish, who was manager when I was first roped in, is based just as much on the present as on a vague understanding of their history; a legend imparted to me in many snippets by an excitable husband.
There could also be a darker side to understanding Bill Shankly’s famous words. The Hillsborough Disaster of 1989, in which 96 fans were crushed to death against pitch-side fences and many more injured, forms a tragic part of Liverpool’s sense of community. The initial police and media reaction was to blame Liverpool fan “hooliganism.” It took 25 years of ardent campaigning for “Justice for the 96” before the victims’ reputations were cleared and an independent panel declared that there was gross negligence undertaken by the police and government. The tragedy is now beyond the memory of many fans, but it remains part of an enduring group consciousness. The struggle of the family and friends of the victims, through their connection with the club, became the Liverpool community’s struggle. The continuing support for the family and friends of the Hillsborough victims sheds a different light on the mantra “you’ll never walk alone.” On the 12th of September 2012, upon the release of the panel’s report, over 10 000 people gathered in an emotional candle-lighting ceremony to remember the Hillsborough 96.
A young fan pays a poignant tribute to the Hillsborough 96. Photograph: The Independent
Yet being part of a sporting community does not always manifest itself on such a grand scale. I believe even I, in all my sports-cluelessness can experience a sense of Liverpool solidarity within my own living room. In September last year I sat glued to the screen witnessing the longest penalty shoot-out in the history of the League Cup. After watching Liverpool winning after 30 shots, I certainly had the sense that I had been part of something memorable, even if it was only my husband that shared by direct experience.
Would I have ever became a Liverpool fan if were not for my partner? Almost certainly not, but that doesn’t diminish my connection with the team. My husband knows now to overlook my slip-ups when I refer to a player’s uniform rather than his kit, or when I talk of points instead of goals. It might help that these are much lesser transgressions than speaking of a Formula One game, rather than a race, but ultimately he is happy to spend quality time together doing what he loves, not just what I love. When I make an effort and share in the tense moments, alongside the cheers, my sense of the Liverpool community starts within my own home.
Perhaps others of my fellow sport-clueless have also found that as the years of acting go by, you begin to forget that you are acting. I still don’t follow all the sports trivia and statistics and I never will; but I care about the games. It was certainly genuine angst I felt at poor Gerrard’s slip that conceded a significant goal to Chelsea in April last year. I am no longer the imposter disguising myself in a mask of red; I have been sucked in. Sociologist Tony Blackshaw particularly aptly describes the community I have been drawn into as “a feeling of warmth and belonging that attracts like a magnet, to the extent that it is difficult for anybody to think about it without being captivated by its sense of marvel.” So when I think of saying farewell to Steven Gerrard, it is after years of such emotional investment.
Yet had I no such emotional investment, I could still find reason to feel a loss. Gerrard embodies the universal figure of the sports hero, and his many admirable characteristics justify this. In terms of performance, he is one of the most consistently talented players Liverpool has ever seen. Testimony regales that he is also modest and a real team player who is especially supportive of young footballers starting out. Gerrard is a great role model, whose reputation remains untarnished throughout the decades. QPR player Joey Barton points to Gerrard’s 17 years with Liverpool (and the haircut that also served 17 years): “His level of loyalty is unparalleled. People talk about his loyalty to his club? Look at the loyalty he has shown his barber!" Liverpool manager Brendan Rodgers expressed this sentiment more seriously: "Steven is a player and a person who is irreplaceable in terms of what he has given over his time here. The standards he has set have been second to none."
This deep-seated respect for people who inspire, overcomes rivalries and points to a sense of community beyond our divisions. Joey Barton goes on to say that "the highest compliment I could pay him is, he's a player I'd be proud to tell my grandchildren that I once played against.” Ex-Everton rival Tim Cahill also said his farewell to Gerrard: “Yes he's a red and I'll always be blue but I have a lot of respect for this guy. Liverpool will not be the same without him." Nothing illustrates this transcendence better than when Stoke fans all arose to applaud Gerrard’s goal against them in his final game.
If staunch Blues are allowed to miss Stevie, then I certainly am too! And miss him I will. Maybe I am a hardcore fan after all.
The team pay tribute at Gerrard's final game, 24th of May 2015. Photograph: BBC.
Snippet Reviews (April 2015)
Music
The Vanishing Shapes new album ‘Urcheon’ is a refreshing addition to the Newcastle music scene, especially for those who appreciate a touch of the bizarre. The band identifies as ‘experimental folk.’ They play with classical instruments, but not as you know them. Each song encompasses such dynamic movement that, although it all works together, you never know what to expect next. The title track ‘Three Windows’ possesses a surreal quality, with ethereal voices which transported me into a world of mystery. However, I think the real gem is ‘Dans Musta.’ The unreal energy paired with sections of suspense, made me feel like I was part of a Sherlock Holmes chase. This album has all the feel of the past, but a creativity that sits at the forefront of new music.
Film
Richard Curtis’ ‘Love Actually’ is a timeless film that celebrates love in all its forms. The movie moves between a number of sub-plots to show how our lives are all intertwined with one another. What really carries the film is the superb cast. Hugh Grant wows as an unconventional prime minister with some kickass dance moves, whilst Bill Nighy has us in stitches with his portrayal of an over-the-hill pop star desperate for a come-back at all costs. The film has its share of tears too, with the touching performance of Liam Neeson as a widower. ‘Love Actually’ is a feel-good 136 minutes, which will have you laughing, crying and maybe even dancing. Be aware though that this may not be one for the family, some sections are inappropriate for children, with nudity and coarse language.
Purity’s Power, Mighty Warriors, and Me
I must have been about 13 or 14 the first time I went along to ‘Purity’s Power.’ Being a late developer, I was scarcely adolescent. I probably didn’t need the bra I wore and sex to me was as abstract to my reality as walking on the moon. Yet I still had that puffed up sense of pride that kids get when they are deemed ‘mature’ enough, (whatever that means!), to be initiated into certain rites of passage.
‘Purity’s Power,’ as you might have surmised, is a Christian program about sex, or more specifically, about not having sex. It is based on a book by Pastor Lisa Bevere called ‘Kissed the Girls and Made Them Cry: Why Women Lose When They Give In.’ The blurb reads: “women were created to be more than a sexual outlet for men. It is time to restore dignity, honour, strength – and yes, even power – to generations of women, young and old, who are no longer willing to lose.”
Although we joked about it at the time, it did not seem significant to me, that while us girls and our mothers did our nails and talked about dressing in ways as not to tempt men at ‘Purity’s Power,’ the men did something entirely different at ‘Mighty Warriors.’ I asked a good male friend what it was like, fishing for a juicy story: “We played games mostly, you know, dodgeball and stuff.”
For my 13 year old self, Lisa was a symbol of female empowerment. ‘Freedom’ was equated with ‘not giving in’ to men and virginity was ‘sexual beauty.’ As a woman of 21, who no longer identifies as Christian, I still feel the legacies of a childhood saturated in these ideals. Writing this ‘story’ all started with stumbling across Lily Dunn’s ‘4 Lies the Church Taught Me About Sex.’ I found myself saying a heartfelt Amen! to every point she made. She took the words right out of my mouth with this one: “As a teenager and young adult I cannot count the times I heard something to this effect: ‘Boys are very visual and sexual, so even though you aren’t thinking about sex, you need to be careful because you are responsible for not making them stumble.’”
This is not a phenomenon of the past. ‘Purity’s Power’ is still a Christian resource and you can find plenty of other examples online. An article on Family Share entitled ‘5 Ways You Are Unknowingly Destroying Your Husband and Killing Your Marriage,’ explains how men need physical intimacy: “Even though you might not always be in the mood, it's worth it to give in (when you can) and spend that time bonding.” The corresponding version for men, explains how women need hugs and their hand held.
These messages, which I constantly absorbed growing up, shout that sex is a man’s domain. I did not know it should bother me at the time, but it truly does now. Lily’s article made me realise I was not alone in the shame that discovering my own strong sex drive brought me. It somehow felt ‘unfeminine’ to initiate sex as much as my partner; to not have to ‘give in’ to a man’s desires, even after marriage. How can you grow up being told that sex both defiles the body and makes men not respect you, and then be able to suddenly ‘unlearn’ such ingrained knowledge when an exchange of words and signatures makes it ok?
I imagine many of you are reading this and thinking: ok, so Christian teaching of sex sucks, but how is that relevant to me? The point is that promoting the ideal of sex being a meaningful connection between two people in a committed relationship, is not the destructive part of Christian teaching. It is the gendered constructs that this ideal is taught through that are problematic. These same gender constraints affect everyone, not just the religious.
We may not live in an age where women are seen as harlots if they have sex outside of marriage; but a sexual double standard is still prevalent in society. Simply put, it’s the stud verses slut factor.
Lately I have been subject to the insightful advice on ‘What Men Think About Your Sexual History,’ such as: “no guy wants to date a whore.” The blog post discusses how women should ‘plan’ their level of sexuality based on men’s perceptions. Men are apparently “willing to accept some degree of a girl's sexual history in exchange for some degree of her experience.” Yes, women are no longer expected to be virgins, but judgements of our sexual behaviour are still often defined by systems based around masculine sexuality. The most disheartening part of reading the post is that the responses were largely centred on debating at what ‘number’ a woman becomes a slut, not challenging the premise.
Sexual inequality is also still prevalent in secular media. On the ‘Everyday Feminism’ website, Patricia Valoy reflects on this: “I can’t think of one big blockbuster movie where a couple is having sex and the man doesn’t reach orgasm to signify the end of the sex scene. Can you?” She discusses how sex scenes involving female pleasure are often landed with higher film ratings than those that show male pleasure. It is refreshing to hear one of our favourite rom-com cuties, Ryan Gosling, raising such issues: “the MPAA is okay supporting scenes that portray women in scenarios of sexual torture and violence for entertainment purposes, but they are trying to force us to look away from a scene that shows a woman in a sexual scenario which is both complicit and complex.”
It is not surprising that patriarchal ideas are still reflected in popular media; when male voices dominate. According to the organisation ‘Women Make Movies,’ just 7.5% of directors of the 100 top-grossing films of 2015 were women. This percentage only rises to 19% when writers and producers are included.
Yet in this twisted view of gender and sex, men lose too. I grew up with the concept that men cannot control their sexual thoughts. I was taught that when women have sex outside of marriage we ‘lose’ more because we cannot have sex detached from emotion like men can. This view of men almost portrays them as ‘animal-like.’
Sometimes when I am feeling insecure I will make some kind of bitter comment to my husband about sex: “you’re a man, you don’t understand” or “as if you care that it’s me touching you.” These are horrible, hurtful things I say. Of course he cares. Just as women can have as much of a sex drive as men, men can have just as much of a desire for ‘meaningful’ connection. Yes, men can even care about cuddles and holding hands.
Often young men are judged based on their level of ‘sexual conquest.’ Society pushes them to have as many sexual partners as possible without being emotionally connected. It also teaches boys that a girl being what society deems ‘hot’ is all that matters. These narrow bounds of expectation are just as limiting for men as they are for women.
One day when my future children absorb ideas about sex, I hope that they will grow up to say: “what do you mean Mum? Of course women can love casual sex and men can want to wait for ‘the one.’ Duhh.”