Celebrating International Women's Day 202

 

Headingley LitFest sponsors this annual event early in March each year to mark International Women's Day on March 8^th. It was, as always, a triumph of prose, poetry and song that was hard-hitting, thought-provoking and poignant, crafted by the clever local writers from Heartlines.  Tales were spun, poems shared, heartstrings pulled and forgotten history revisited.  We were by turns cheered, appalled, engrossed and entertained by the witty and perceptive writing of the Headingley Creative Writing Group and local songstresses.

 

 

Liz McPherson (pictured) has nurtured these writers over the years and they provided us with varied pieces of writing of such high calibre. Liz opened the event with a 'paperchain' collaborative poem that pulled no punches. Sexual violence, coercive control, FGM, acid for 'honour', rape as a weapon – her words went beyond the unspeakable to words that must be used to educate. 

Her poem appears at the end of this piece.

 

 

Music was a poem by Kaz Byrne that explored the rhythms of life we listen to: soothing lullabies in babyhood; cheerful songs in girlhood; calming melodies in middle age; the lament of the dying. Sing out sisters!

 

Being Cross by Rosie Cantrell was read out by Kaz. Hungry babies, tetchy children, adolescent mood swings, PMT leads to a calm old age.  Really?  Or does partial deafness mute our irritation - until we get to the Pearly Gates when St Peter asks you to show your/you're cross. No problem!

 

 

Harissa are a collective of brilliant a capella singers led by Jane Edwardson.  The ten talents I thought, as they sang three songs: Blue Moon, A Master of Education (poem by Brian Patten, set to music by Frances Bernstein) and Rise Up. A medley of women's voices in harmony with words sometimes a little less harmonious! As the name Harissa implies. 

Rise up indeed was the invitation to the audience.

 

Shame was explored by Myrna Moore.  In the context of well-known greats such as Joan of Arc, Marie Curie and Malala Yusufai, a new addition to the pantheon is Giselle Pelicot.  She is a heroine of our era, who declared that 'Shame must change sides.'  Should women hide from the glare of prurient publicity?  No.  She is not vengeful, freeing herself from consuming hate and walking with dignity to face the world's flashbulbs. Other sisters will now follow.

 

Ivy Benson's extraordinary life was explored by Doug Sandle. Local girl from Beeston, she played piano at five years of age, learned the clarinet and saxophone and by 1943 was leading the BBC's resident all-girl dance band before she was forty years old. 250 girls played with her during her dance band years. Doug had been so proud to give a speech as she was presented with an Honorary Doctor of Music by the-then Leeds Polytechnic. Spice Girl Mel C is a strong supporter of a woman who had generated girl power half a century before her.

 

Salem in 1692 was explored by Jackie Parsons.  Girls who used egg-white divination to see into their futures were condemned as witches after they complained of itching and scratching and gave out odd little cries.  Was ergotism caused by contaminated cereal grain ever suggested? – the symptoms are strikingly similar and it was not unknown.  But male Puritan justice prevailed in the witch trials of which we perhaps do not know the whole story.

 

Bill Fitzsimons read us his poem, As Long As Men Do Likewise, based on a picture of a girl confronting a line of soldiers and offering flowers. It's the sort of image we have seen many times and that has all too many echoes this very day. But “men will follow their leaders' lies.”

 

Maria Sandle performed two songs accompanying herself on guitar and harmonica. The first was by the iconic Joni Mitchell, a powerful exploration of the horrors of the Magdalene Laundries. Prostitutes, destitutes and temptresses (as described by the priests) – all woe-begotten-daughters impregnated by fathers, priests or ignorance. 'Fallen women' whose babies were neglected and ended in the septic tank. Girls buried without ceremony or note. Truly still shocking thirty years later.  A more cheerful song of Give to Gain – it's in giving that we gain - was written by Maria herself, with audience participation to lift our spirits.

 

Malcolm Henshall told us a tale of North Berwick, opposite the Bass Rock, famous for many things. It was once home to the largest colony of gannets in the world before avian flu.  He too touched on witches in a little known history of the town's treatment of over 70 local women. They were healers, teachers, environmental supporters, stepping outside their gender roles, just different. Persecuted by the men who feared their knowledge, skills and self-confidence and who sought to control them. Same as it ever was?

 

A Traveller in Residence: Barbara Lawton recounted the life of Maeve Brennan, basing her exploration on a picture of a fragmented scene with a women half-buried in the shards.  Maeve's father Robert was imprisoned for his support of the Easter Rising in Dublin in 1917 but later in 1934 was sent to Washington, with his family, as a representative of the Irish Free State when Maeve was 17.  Maeve became famous as a short-story writer, feted for her literate tale-telling before she hit hard times (yes, there was a husband involved) and her life spiralled out of her control into mental illness and alcoholism.  She never settled, remained a traveller from boarding house to hotel room to the streets where she died.  Her work was rediscovered recently and republished; she takes her place in the cannon of Irish literature.

 

Howard Benn wrote in praise of Augusta Ada, the Countess Lovelace, a daughter of Byron who is known for her work to support the Babbage prototype computer and was indeed a countess in her enthusiasm for calculation. Sadly, she was lost to opium and time.  “Too much Byron in you?”

 

Linda Marshall's short poems Annie and True Glam were read by Liz McPherson and gave a picture of two very different women.

 

Liz McPherson provided us with the final piece of writing, Mary makes a new start. She updates her look, enjoys some me-time with well-being treats, sells the place in Nazareth, develops her credentials as an influencer with 50 million followers. #MotherofGod.

 

Harissa sang a rousing finale, I Tell Me Ma, to send us on our way to refreshments and a chance to mull over the many ideas and images generated by the words we have experienced. Once again, such a delightful morning of entertainment provided by the research, craft and skills of the writers of Headingley and the talents of the wonderful local musicians.

 

 

This poem is not about women

This poem does not tell of rocks and rusty screws

forced into wombs. This poem can’t repeat

the messages of hate, driven inside them,

cannot count the lives ruined.

 

This poem will not ask why girls are still cut

to satisfy tradition, why education is withheld,

why permission to go outside, to drive a car,

to travel, has to be given.

 

This poem never talks of acid flung in faces,

of bodies burned, disfigured for ‘honourable reason’.

This poem will not measure families ripped apart,

it will not hear the children crying, the bullets flying,

the blood-soaked fields, streets, houses, schools.

 

This poem won’t speak of women kept like beasts,

compelled to spend their lives in servitude.

This poem won’t examine how the world can choose

to make a child bear a child.

 

This poem will not document how rape is used as gun,

on women, girls, tiny children. This poem will not bear

witness to all this suffering, pain and slaughter.

This poem is not about women.

 

Liz McPherson. 2025.

 

 

This poem is published in Safety in Numbers, a Poetic Conversation, edited by Gill Connors (Yaffle Press) and launching this week at various venues in the region. Copies are available from Yaffle Press or at the events below.

York. Spark, Piccadilly, York. Thursday 5^th March. 7 pm

Keighley Library. Saturday 7th March. 5- 6.30 pm.

Zoom. Sunday 8^th March. 6.30.

Ilkley Library. Saturday 19th March 6-7.30 pm

(Ticket and link enquiries to safepaperchain@gmail.com)

 

 

Transformations at Weetwood Primary Schoo

When Year 5 finally had the opportunity to share their original poetry about waste and recycling with parents it was to a full classroom.  Full of both excited youngsters and enthusiastic parents.

 

The pupils had been working with local writer and published poet James Nash.  This followed a visit to the Recycling and Energy Recovery Facility (known as RERF) at Cross Green.  They had explored what happens to the contents of their bins and how it is transformed into electricity for 20,000 homes. The thinking that then went into their creative writing was transformative too.

 

The RERF building includes a mix of innovative and sustainable materials and techniques, including a 42m high timber arch forming the main process hall – the largest timber structure of its type in Europe. The facility was awarded the 2015 Project of the Year at the National Structural Timber Awards.

 

James led them through some of the processes he uses to write a poem: from first ideas (where they had been challenged to imagine they were a piece of rubbish in a bin); describing their journey to the recycling centre; thinking about what their senses would tell them about the experience; how they might feel at different stages on the way. These are pretty sophisticated concepts when you're only nine or ten years old! They handled it brilliantly and no-one produced any throwaway lines.

 

In the next session with James, Year 5 worked hard on how to edit and redraft those first ideas into a poem.  They thought about what they really wanted to say and how to express it most effectively.  They were looking for powerful vocabulary, great metaphors and expressive writing while considering how to organise their thinking into lines and verses, using what they had learnt about the form and structure of a poem.

 

While they worked on polishing and improving their poems there was lots of opportunity for them to practise reading their drafts aloud in preparation for the classroom finale sharing their work with parents, other school staff and visitors.

 

The journey, a furious mix of jerking and jostling,

The wall of glass intimidating

 

wrote one gifted poet. While another, conscious of the sound of their words and managing rhyme beautifully, said

 

Jumbled and tumbled,

Crumpled and rumpled

Locked in a lair

Filled with despair

 

Another young writer wrote,

 

The last journey is a sonic fast from waste to aggregate

The colossal claw is grabbing

 

Year 5 really enjoyed the experience of working with a ‘real, live’ poet.  ‘He was really friendly,’ said one pupil, 'and he knew how to help us’.

 

The parents in the audience were very appreciative of the work of the class.  One youngster had a sibling who had take part in a previous year’s workshop with James, and whose mum was moved to say, ’The kids’ creativity was off the scale! It’s such a great event’.

 

 ‘They had such self-confidence in reading out their poems,’ an enthusiastic audience member said, while another valued the cross-curriculum impact of the poetry writing, ‘It was so good that it was a part of another project - a big one that they are doing - and the idea of writing from point of view of a piece of rubbish was brilliant!’

 

Mrs Joanne Parker, class teacher, concurred, ‘Every year we say how fantastic this poetry unit is .  This felt like the best ever’.

 

Perhaps it’s appropriate to give a Year 5 pupil the last words,

 

I cannot go home now

I’ll be burnt in a furnace

Used to tarmac roads

Hurled onto a fiery rock

Gone and never coming back

 

Maybe the rubbish is gone and never coming back but the school staff were as one in hoping that James could indeed come back to work his transformation on the next year group.

 

Headingley LitFest is very grateful once again for support for this project from the Area Management Committee of Leeds City Council and the local councillors who allocate the grant.

 

 

 

Emotional performance at Brudenell Primary with Malika Booker

 Richard Wilcocks writes:

The Year 5 class at Brudenell Primary School was full of questions soon after we arrived towards the end of a Maths session led by class teacher Tom Nutman. It any of the children thought poet Malika Booker might be merely a welcome novelty, they were soon to be proved wrong when she revealed  a plan for intense creative activity which would finish with a poetry performance for their parents. First, she read her poem about a cat which had to go when she was born. Then -

 

Q.  When did you start writing poetry?

A. In my teenage years, but I read a lot of it from the age of four.

 

Q.  Is your poetry all true or made up?

A.  I think maybe there’s a little bit of a lie, with the use of exaggeration. It’s true to life though, and there’s a lot of imagination involved.

 

Q.  Which poets do you like?

A.  I like William Blake, and I’m inspired by Caribbean poets.

 

Q.  Did you do poetry at school?

A.  Yes. I was inspired by some teachers, especially one particular English and Drama teacher.

 

Q.  Did you ever get bored of poetry?

A. No. I loved performing poems at school.

 

Q.  Have you always been working as a poet?

A. I’ve spent twenty-five years with professional poetry. I once had it in mind to be a teacher or a singer. I can’t sing though. If I could sing I wouldn’t have been a poet.

 

Q.  What starts you writing a poem?

A.  I read other people’s poems to inspire me before I write.

 

Soon the class was responding to her questions with its existing knowledge of similes, metaphors and the five senses. Malika asked for striking examples (of similes in particular), to go with a wide range of emotions. Working in pairs and small groups, and following her advice that clichés must be avoided, the children came up with plenty of imaginative comparisons:

 

Jealousy is like cockroaches crawling on your back.

 

Anger sounds like a cat hissing.

 

Anger looks like broken crockery.

 

Love is like tasting smooth chocolate on a sunny day.

 

Soon, the pupils’ whiteboards were full of ideas and the fort lesson with Malika came to an end. The work continued with Tom Nutman until her return the following week. In the second lesson, she used one of her favourite teaching aids – the poem ‘My Father’s Hands’ by poet Lisa Mahair Majaj (Palestinian – American poet who was brought up in Jordan) – which was followed by an instruction for every child to draw an outline around one hand. “Make it big,” said Malika. “Don’t just use your hand as a stencil”.

 

“Now choose someone you love. It could be a family member like your mother or father or a grandparent. Yes, brothers and sisters are fine.” This was followed by discussion on the typical actions of the chosen loved one (mostly mothers, a few grandads) and similes which might be useful. Emotions were so important – how they were connected to body language, or rather hand language. Some of the children’s ideas were really memorable:

 

She puts her hands together and looks like an Olympic swimmer diving in.

 

Her hands are like window wipers on her eyes.

 

Her fingers tap like on a little drum.

 

“And what if you never saw that loved one ever again?”

 

It would be like entering a dark tunnel.

 

The third lesson a few days later consisted of the performance by every single child in the main hall, to which parents had been invited. After preliminary work on projecting the voice from Malika and Tom, and a noisy warm-up using a tongue-twister led by Malika, the show commenced. Hearts and souls went into it.

 

Some reactions:

 

Having members of our community come in and share their passion for literature is always a welcome addition to our curriculum. Some of these chlldren have come to this country with no English. This is such a great achievement, and the poems are absolutely beautiful. (Headteacher Jill Harland)

 

I couldn't be more proud. (Tom Nutman)

 

I am nearly ten and I felt really confident when I was sat down but then I didn’t expect so many people but it was all right when I did my poem. (Ayra)

 

It wasn’t that scary. (Rayan)

 

I enjoyed speaking out loud. (Ali)

 

It was done really well so I enjoyed it. So much confidence! (Rhada Bhakar, parent)

 

It was so good for building confidence. Thank you in the LitFest very much. I am starting a debating club for primary school children in the community. I now think poetry could help. (Sinab, parent)

 

Performing in front of people is so good for their confidence. (Julius, parent)

 

I cried a little at the words. (Anon. parent)

 

Some of the lines broke my heart ( Cllr.Tim Goodall)

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

Celebrating International Women's Day at HEART

 Accelerating Action

This year is the tenth collaboration between local writers and Headingley LitFest to mark International Women’s Day. It was hosted by Heartlines, the creative writers' group overseen by Liz McPherson. This delightful morning of original poetry, prose, and song, themed around the setbacks and struggle, determination and strength of women worldwide both inspires and gives food for thought. Followed by food of a more visceral nature as we enjoyed home-made cakes and hot drinks among friends past and present. It felt like a companionable meeting of minds.

 

We ranged over time, place, class, and education to showcase women who have made a difference.

 

Kaz told us of Elizabeth Prout, a strong-minded person who became a staunch Roman Catholic when it was unpopular – she bore the storms and sneers, the spit and stones of opprobrium. She realised that education and dignity were gifts girls needed to fulfil their lives. Her Order went on to found St Gemma's Hospice.

 

Eileen spoke of Roberta Joan Anderson, whose songs have accompanied most women of a certain age through many life stages. Her life was cosmopolitan and rich in spirit, not always happy but always fiercely independent and full. Music was her medicine. Eileen referenced the song 'Sweet Bird':

Sweet bird of time and change/You must be laughing/Up on your feathers laughing.

 

Eileen was, of course, speaking of the lyrics of Joni Mitchell. She also gave us Red Rag, a poem that explores the menstrual cycle, from its physical realities to its cultural and emotional significances.

 

Bill based his first poem on work by Maya Angelou and his second on Billie Holliday, both of whom 'squeezed sweetness from the height of pain.' Both of these women used the extraordinary power of words in prose and song to move and inspire us.

 

Howard wrote about Ada Lovelace, daughter of Lord Byron who 'had a mind like a machine, expanding numbers into words.'  She developed computer programming language, though sadly, she was 'lost to opium – too much Bryon in you.' He also dedicated a poem to his GP 'whose best concoction is yourself' though Dr Bell had 'no potions to mend my heart.’

 

Marie-Paule reminisced with us about her French heritage and reflected on her mother's experiences in ‘Fingers Red and Wrinkled’. The dishwasher and washing machine of today was then, of course, the woman or women of the family whose swollen fingers spoke of a life of labour in factory or home.

 

A musical interlude with singer/songwriter Maria on guitar (pictured) and Rob on the concertina and melodeon followed. 

 

Maria sang her own original songs about three different women. Marilyn Monroe who was 'so very much aware, just pretending to be dumb'. Let Me Be was a call to arms, to each of us to 'Dream what my life can be', Find your vision.'  And then a modern shanty featuring Skipper Dora, a hero of the seas around Whitby. The first female coble captain who went fishing in wartime with a pistol strapped to her waist.

 

Picture of Dora skippering her coble, The Good Faith

 

[A statue of Dora Walker, by Emma Stothard, stands on Whitby’s West Cliff and forms part of the town’s Walking with Heritage Trail.]

 

Linda then spoke of The Reading Woman who decided she was tired of pretty calendars with illustrations of female passivity. She was going out dancing and would buy her own calendars in future!

 

Barbara's prose account of a serendipitous visit to Coleridge Cottage in Nether Stowey saw her join the annual Women's Walk which is taken by most of the women of the village. It is in honour of Coleridge's best friend, a man called Tom Poole, who used profits from the family tannery to employ many local women, set up a free school for all the children and found the Female Friendly Society which supported women in times of sickness, childbirth, widowhood and old age. A good man.

 

Myrna exhorted us to keep fighting battles for gender equality and to be vigilant. ‘I am a woman, not a witch’ – a woman with a point of view, to be celebrated for wisdom and skills, not shunned or persecuted as many have been in the past (and still are in some cultures). She urged us to put our foot on the pedal and accelerate.

 

Dru recounted some aspects of the life of Suffragette hero, Emily Davison. Her degree in English Literature was not granted, she was arrested nine times, went on hunger strike eight times, was force-fed forty-nine times. She died under the King's horse at the 1913 Epsom Derby but left no note. Dru’s poem is written as the (fictional) note that Emily had dropped at the local station, fluttering on to the track unseen. In it she spoke of her determination that 'we will win the vote for every woman'. And, of course, we were reminded that International Women's Day is marked across the world, even in horrific warzones or under the restrictive regimes that daily blight or obliterate the lives of women and children.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emily_Davison

 

Malcolm read us his poem The Evil Cloud (though at first, I misheard this as The Evil Clown. Yes, him.)  Malcolm told us that, we should build dams to protect the poor and persecuted and that the Evil Cloud produces rain that is harsh, destructive. 'We need the cement of hope to build our wall, not his.'  He also treated us to the lyric of Fred Small sung by folk singer Roy Bailey.

'And the only measure of your words and your deeds/Will be the love you leave behind when you're gone/The love you leave behind when you're gone.'

 

Liz, our compere for the morning, reminded us that class not calibre has been and still can be the main barrier to women's advancement. She emphasized that this issue has become even more pressing as hard-won progress is being rolled back globally. In her first poem, a woman burdened by domestic work "polishes the gaps where her own life might have been," capturing the curbs and restraints that many women suffer. She then read a poem about Patricia Atkinson, the fourth known victim of Peter Sutcliffe, reminding us that violence against women has not diminished since those dark days between 1955 and 1980 when the man they called the Yorkshire Ripper spread fear across West Yorkshire. Furthermore, her poem highlighted attitudes to sex workers—many of whom are women—who still do not receive respect from those in authority.

[Ed: Good then that the film Anora has just received five Oscars. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anora.]

 

Jackie told of Sister Rosetta Tharpe, known as the Godmother of Rock 'n' Roll for her trailblazing life and distinctive musical style. Rosetta Tharpe played with all the greats and inspired others, such as Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley, and Johnny Cash. Shamefully she was not inducted into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame until 2007.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sister_Rosetta_Tharpe

 

As a finale, Jackie recounted an anecdote from her days playing base guitar in the all-girl group, Mother Superior. We were delighted to see the footage of them playing in 1976 as backing group to Cliff Richard (!) singing Sweet Little Sixteen. She showed us the only surviving clip of her band playing. Interesting to see how fashion-forward the group were. And a discombobulated Cliff who had refused to let them play unless they dropped the word ‘Mother’ from their name. View the footage here.

https://jackiebadgersblog.blogspot.com/2010/08/1976-mother-superior.html

 

Once again, thanks are also due to Rachel, Headingley LitFest volunteer for adding her homemade cakes to the display of edible goodies provided.

 

A delightful morning of entertainment that nevertheless packed a punch in its messaging. Women must never give in, or up, but continue to Accelerate Action in order to achieve true gender equality.