By Grace Quinn
Oh Page 3. That dreaded topic that makes me want to scream, cry and stomp my feet simultaneously (and walk into The Sun’s HQ and do all of the above in their foyer…)
There are many reasons why I despise page 3. Let’s start with the most basic reason. Where do we find page 3? In a newspaper. What is meant to be in a newspaper. News. 2 big breasts are not news. Nor are they a feature. In fact, it provides nothing to read at all, other than possibly the brand name on the girls’ thong. It’s cheap content, and completely incongruous with a newspaper (even if it is a tabloid like The Sun)
Caitlin Moran made a great point about the fact that she would hate to think of her kids sitting at school in art class, laying down newspaper sheets to see page 3 girls flaunting their figure. I support this view wholeheartedly. Not what happened in parliament today kids but women’s bare breasts. What they used to drink milk from staring them right in the face. Who wants to make a papier-mache pig as a young child with breasts instead of a snout. Not me. Not Caitlin Moran’s two young girls (maybe a few of my male university friends but then that’s a very different take on the issue…) A newspaper should be read, and looked at with interest, not voyeurism.
The debate is one that has resurfaced with the emergence of a more strong and vocal feminist scene. Clare Short campaigned vigorously back in the 80s regarding the issue with little success, but now is the time to re ignite the passion and try and shake up this corrupt, archaic and embarrassing concept. People are speaking out, both men and women, about the absurdity of this concept. BREASTS.IN.A.NEWSPAPER. (I really can’t get over it, capitalising makes it the most emphatic I can achieve on paper)
Put it this way, The Sun started featuring page 3 women in November 1970. If there were a group of both women, and men, sitting around a table in an office tomorrow morning at 9am, in this millennial age, and the man (or complete and utter flipping fool) in the corner got up confidently, flipped the board in front of him to a sharpie drawn image of a young women in a small pair of black lace knickers, in a questionable pose, and said ‘I’ve cracked it. The new feature, near enough to the front page of the paper is going to be an 18 year old girl completely topless flaunting herself on a beach’ I’m almost 100% sure the entire room would laugh in unison and carry on as normal, sure that it was a distasteful joke, unappreciated by all with even a hint of moral conduct. Oh how poor Miss.Pankhurst would be stirring in her grave if she knew…
Enough’s enough. We’re in the year 2013. TWENTY THIRTEEN (The need for emphasis again. Sorry) We do not need topless women to appear in the newspaper. Period. Newspapers are on every street corner, every doctors reception area, every family’s home and breasts are an unnecessary accompaniment to a cup of tea, a croissant, and the morning paper.
So let’s just hope that in the near future we can actually read page 3 (oh, and make those breast-free papier mache pigs too…)