Hi all, it’s Farzana, with this month’s Connectors. It’s Women’s Empowerment Month and hopefully my Connectors will spark debate and make us think about how far we still need to go for women’s voices to be heard and valued; particularly in terms of the roles we play in what are still very much male-dominated societies.

So, without further ado (because I have so much good writing to include), let’s head to our first Connector, my colleague Amber. Coming from a marginalised, minority and working-class background myself, I can completely relate. I’m proud Amber has voiced her personal experiences for my page. I wish all women’s voices could be amplified and included in publications such as ours, rather than be silenced and disregarded; in the slush piles of the publishing industry, for example.

Hi, Amber. Let’s connect:

A Working-Class Woman Is Something To Be

Last month, I was invited to attend a symposium on class, and I came home with all kinds of feelings about what it means to be working-class in Britain today. Working-class academics, creatives, campaigners and grassroots organisations gathered in a room to discuss what class inequality looks like in 2025, with panels focused on some of the areas where class discrimination is most acutely felt (housing, education, work and culture).

We working-class folk know that classism exists, because we’ve all experienced it. I’ve been told that every place I’ve ever lived in is a ‘shit hole’; I’ve been bullied for my northern accent; and, right now, I’m trying to navigate a job market without the social capital that every middle-class person takes for granted. But in hearing people’s stories, it became clear just how prevalent class discrimination is. I left feeling angry, angrier than I usually am about this stuff, but I was also so inspired by the solidarity in that room. It’s rare that we’re vindicated; our politics have been hijacked and the class struggle is frequently dismissed.

I was surrounded by incredible working-class women. Women who, you might argue, had ‘made it’ (a phrase I hate, by the way, because it positions our communities and culture as ‘less than’). But they were still bound by class barriers and still shamed for who they are. One Cambridge professor and alumni explained that, when she left her hometown to study at one of the country’s most prestigious universities, she had her working-classness ‘stripped’ from her. Another woman, an artist who supports her creative output with a day job, told the room she couldn’t view her own work when it was exhibited in a London gallery, because no one thought to get her a train ticket.

And these weren’t anomalies. These weren’t one-off stories that were out of place against the backdrop of the day. My own experiences which, despite my best efforts, have been marred by precarity, have absolutely been shaped by class inequality. We can try to assimilate, as I did for many years, by changing our accents or getting degrees, but it’s bigger than us. For my part, I’ll keep writing about it, because this stuff needs to be said.

Working-class women are tired, but we’re not ashamed of who we are, no matter how many times we’re told we should be. There’s a lot of talk about gender inequality happening right now, and events like Women’s History Month are important reminders that there’s a long way to go. But working-class women are rarely part of that discussion, and we’ve got a lot to say. If any middle-class woman reading this declares herself a feminist, she should be thinking about how she can make things better for working-class women, too.

When we speak of resilience, I want us to speak of working-class women; when we talk about strength, I want us to pay homage to the working-class women that came before us. I come from a long line of proudly working-class women, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. But the world needs to know: working-class women deserve better.

© Amber Hall, 2025

Connect with Amber on X: @amber_marie_123 and on Instagram:@amber.marie.123

Support the Working-Class Collective (of which Amber is a member): workingclasscollective.co.uk.

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Now we connect with Zoé, whose positivity felt contagious in her piece. I am inspired!

Hi, Zoé. Let’s connect:

“Why Are You So Happy?”

I go to the gym six days a week, so that’s probably where I have the most interactions with people and where the most exciting things happen to me. A couple of days ago, a random guy bluntly asked me, “Why are you so happy?” in the middle of my cross-training class while I was slamming a medicine ball on the floor and bursting into laughter.

I could’ve told him that I was picturing his head instead of the ball, but honestly, the question wasn’t even mean-spirited. It wasn’t coming from a bad place.

He was genuinely perplexed. So naturally, I had to ask him back, “Why are you so miserable?”

He answered, very seriously, that he had a kid in shared custody, had given up on his dream of moving to Asia because of it, worked as a brand consultant, and oh, he had also hurt one of his vertebrae weightlifting, so now he had to do core work with resistance bands.

For the record, I had never met this man before in my life. I have no idea why he unloaded his entire backstory on me in under 30 seconds. And honestly, I don’t know what he was complaining about. Because every single thing he listed was a consequence of his own choices made by a fully grown adult.

No one forced him to have kids.

No one forced him to give up on his dream of moving abroad.

No one forced him to become a brand consultant, whatever that means.

Actually, hold on, I do know. I just Googled it: A brand consultant is someone who sees the big picture and offers expert advice to businesses to reshape or reinvigorate their brand image and drive performance.

That’s ironic, coming from someone who couldn’t see the big picture of his own life or guide himself to reshape his body without injuring his spine.

Truth be told, this isn’t the first time someone has been almost angry or confused by how happy I am. Sometimes, the phrasing is more subtle. When it comes from a woman, it’s usually, “Where do you find all that energy?” And isn’t that a weird thing to ask someone? Shouldn’t you be happy that someone around you is happy? Shouldn’t you appreciate my surplus of positive energy, if only to counterbalance your own bad vibes?

It always catches me off guard, yet it keeps happening. Because people are so miserable, they don’t want to be reminded that happiness exists. They want everyone else to be just as miserable as they are.

You’re not allowed to show joy, excitement, or satisfaction. A smile is seen as suspicious. A laugh is considered aggressive. I think this is what wellness gurus mean when they say, “Get rid of toxic people.” Life should feel light. And because you have free will, you should know that you can always choose to be happy!

I once heard author Paul Theroux say, “Only a fool blames his bad vacation on the rain.” The last time I went to the Caribbean for vacation, it rained for half the time we were there. Do you know what I did? I made a funny TikTok out of it. And then I sold it to the world’s number one source for epic fail videos.

Ever wonder why people love kids and animals so much? Because they represent the innocence and enthusiasm they wish they still had. But guess what? You can still have that sense of wonder if you choose to. When I’m at the gym (I’m at Club Med), I high-five everyone. I hype up random people lifting heavy weights. I go to every class, even the ones with names that give me absolutely no clue what’s going to happen, like Skiptok, which, for the record, has nothing to do with TikTok. Turns out, it’s just a jump rope class. (Think Disney Channel’s Jump In!)

When I’m in class, I get an adrenaline rush. There’s music. There are funky neon lights. There’s a trainer shouting out the remaining time into a microphone, like it’s the NFL countdown to the Super Bowl. Between sets, I bust out my best twerk moves with the female trainer, because why settle for a rest break when you can turn it into a dance party?

I stage fake light-sabre duels with one of the receptionists using a weighted bar. Recently, the spin class instructor added the Pokémon theme song to his playlist and the entire class belted it out at the top of their lungs while pedalling like their lives depended on it and clapping along in perfect rhythm.

Needless to say, everyone knows me. Because no one shows as much enthusiasm as I do at the gym. And why not? It’s a fun place. And I have golden retriever energy.

Actually, I think I need to update my answer. Next time someone asks me, “Why are you so happy?” instead of launching into a discussion on free will, I think I’ll just say,“Wealth and entitlement.” That usually shuts people up.

Also, I am wealthy and entitled… but that’s a whole other story.

© Zoé Mahfouz, 2025

Find out more about Zoé here: imdb.com/fr/name/nm8051766/

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Our final Connector was actually meant to be showcased last month with the theme of Love and Misunderstandings. But I think you’ll agree, Azmina’s piece fits here, too. It definitely made me question a lot of my old-time literary favourites!

Hi, Azmina. Let’s connect:

The Problem, With Love

The assertion that Pablo Picasso should not be artistically revered because of his abusive history is a notion still very much debated. Claire Dederer’s book, Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma, dives deep into this argument, extrapolating it to some of the Western world’s most noted artists: Woody Allen, Hemingway, Polanski; the list unfortunately goes on.

It’s an important topic and one that should be taken seriously if we want to discuss the value of art in all its forms. The book is a breath of fresh air; she takes a microscope over specific artists and analyses responses to it, pulling in questions of ethics and morality away from religion. An important book, which belongs on the shelf of every creator and consumer of art.

The literary world is no exception to this argument. Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre is still revered, despite the monstrous appearance of Bertha Mason. The Lord Of The Flies is still considered a worthy canon classic, despite William Golding’s attempted rape and Enid Blyton is still regarded a prolific and celebrated children’s writer, despite a history of xenophobia. While these are varying degrees of monstrosity we, as readers, writers and human beings can collectively agree they are outrightly wrong.

But why are we still able to purchase, read, study and discuss these pieces of work so openly without the knowledge of the monstrous acts interrupting us? What Claire alludes to in her conclusion is love. The literary world’s love for these pieces of art is so strong it has either brushed it aside, suppressed, excused, forgiven or just accepted the monstrosities behind it. We are subconsciously taught that the beauty of the Bildungsroman and the stoicism of Miss Eyre ‘surpasses’ a minor character whose description was a simply a ‘sign of the times’. The descent into Golding’s lawless land is apparently too moral a lesson to override, while the sweet sense of nostalgia that comes with The Wishing Chair or Mallory Towers is too beloved to let go.

Maybe the problem lies with the literary world and its inability to emotionally detach from these works of art. The creation and consumption of art is personal but its value is determined collectively. Love should not blind us to the truth behind these pieces of work but allow us to rethink their value. As readers, writers and artists we have to be sensible enough to know when to forgive and when to let ‘Pablo-matic’ people and art disappear. After all, if you love something, you have to let it go.

© Azmina Sohail, 2025

That’s it for March. I hope to see you again next month with more thought-provoking Connectors.

Stay Connected!

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Issue 23 of Write On! is out now and you can read it online here. Find it in libraries and other outlets. You can find previous editions of our magazines here.

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