Sex work and the morality of income: yes, yours too

The question of whether Silvie was immoral for taking payment is hypocrisy

There’s a Yiddish song I’ll share with you: You’ve got to give the butcher his sher (dance)/ no matter what you buy or what you wear/ You’ve got to give the butcher his lot/ for being everything you think you’re not.

Opening Remarks to the Court of Public Opinion

For little strips of green paper, money has a profound impact on the way we all behave. What could I make you do for $100? $10,000? $1,000,000? Every man has always had his price, from Midas to Modi. And, in a world where capital and assets are so neatly folded away into the wallets of men, so does every…


Sector monopolies don’t care about external markets, hun

A crash course in price points: why is a slice of cake $5?

Perhaps you could understand the price point (literally the amount you pay) as the cost of flour, sugar, strawberries and cream, plus a profit margin and cost of labor. Or maybe you could look at the cost of cakes in all the bakeries in town, and work out what the median cost of a slice of cake is, and what your customers are prepared to pay. Or maybe you look at the demographic of people who have access to a cash fee of $5, and come up with a strategy to make them all buy cake. All of this is…


Uncomfortable as it may be, we have to confront those who normalize abuse, taboos and fetishes

Sexuality, like all things, comes with the good, the bad, and the ugly. It can mean incredible closeness, intimacy and affection between you and your partner. It can mean a slightly embarrassing crush at college. And it can mean having an attraction that is so monstrously warped that an individual ends up causing serious harm, or even death. As the big media platforms and mediums rightly take aim at sexual abuse and violence, it does however raise an interesting question: how should we, as as a society, navigate harmful and dangerous elements of sexuality?

I, like many adults, find Arianna Grande deeply uncomfortable

A friend of mine, a hockey dad with three boisterous athletic daughters, discusses his latest worry at navigating a safe path for them in a world where girls as young as three or four are routinely sexualized and endangered through increasingly ugly pop culture. “I get that they want to be like their friends,” he says, anxiously, “But it really creeps me out when I see them copying sucking on their fingers, lollipops and a cutesy Lolita aesthetic. I’ve had to ban Arianna Grande in my house.”

It’s not really hard to see why. Queen of Lolita Pop, Arianna Grande…


I can’t stress this enough: branding and communication is vital

I’m used to people treating me like a stupid bimbo when they hear I ‘work in PR’. The expectation of extraordinary stupidity and a vacuous grin. The unnecessary attempts to simplify everything down to what they assume a stupid, boring woman who can probably look pretty at a shareholder meeting could understand. The problem is that real PR, PR at a level that actually saves you millions, requires a whole lot more thought and research than what you’d probably thought. As AZ found out, the hard way.

I could go off in a rant here about the number of (predominantly male) clients who have suggested that I research their sector, or insist on explaining ‘profit’ to me, but that’s not why I’m writing this. PR isn’t, contrary to popular imagination, calling boring board members ‘babes’ at conferences as you hand around useless leaflets saying actualize and optimize. We don’t really do press releases anymore. Conferences are more egofests than any genuine attempt at learning or releasing anything. A lot of PR is gritty research, networking, getting information from hardcore academia and investor documents into an understandable format…


And why your pick-up artist is making it harder for you

I’ve been on this planet for twenty-four long, drawn out years. Sometimes it seems like a lot longer, if I’ve spent too long going through my message requests. Throughout it all, from training bras to conference calls with Madrid, I’ve endured both the brilliant and beastly of male attention. I’ve seen success, and I’ve seen failure. I’ve been repulsed, and I’ve been overwhelmed.

And I don’t hate you, incels. In fact, I hope I can help.

Surprisingly for some, although definitely not for others, I haven’t always been the girl in the bright red lipstick rolling her eyes at frightened men in Players. In fact, if you knew me at all before I turned twenty, I think you’d find it surprising that I’d even be let into a club, let alone one where I’d have the dubious honour of having a Lord pin me against a vodka stained piano surrounded by hollow-hearted civil servants bellowing Mr Brightside. So, let that be a lesson to the bitter hearted among you: I was unattractive, too.

I was an…


Short fiction because why not, c’est Monday

I’m sorry I can’t love you the way you want to be loved.

There’s an honesty to conversations made beneath polyester sheets at four in the morning. The world sleeps, and you lie saline streaked beside a man you once loved wondering if the round wound of your heart will ever heal from those indelible thirteen words. Thirteen honest words that send you reeling in the dark for anything to say. But only tears. Childish tears, loud sobs between mouthfuls of pillow and chokes in the silence. It irritates him now. You irritate him now. He will not reach for…


She’s the poster-girl for lying about rape. She shouldn’t be

There is a wicked, evil person in the Tawana Brawley story. And it isn’t her

Tawana Brawley was 15 years old. A tenth grader growing up in a crumbling district of New York, I wonder how many of her classmates knew what was happening when she went home from school. If they saw the bruises that lined her arms. If she ever talked about what her stepfather did to her when the door closed. If they ever knew her mother watched, or joined in. If she ever shared with a friend how he had stabbed his first wife fourteen times with a steak knife, before beating her and shooting her to death. If they ever…


Britain might be a jumped up, unimportant European state, but it’s used as an example for what an alliance with the US means

There’s repercussions when you’re known to be dismissive of your allies

Okay, yes. I have a vested interest in the US not screwing Britain over. I’m British, and I quite enjoy not being on the wrong side of a superpower. But, even if I wasn’t, I’d be advising Biden to tread very, very carefully on his ‘Fuck You’ attitude to the UK.

Britain might be a tragic, pathetic splatter of what it used to be, and objectively about as powerful as Norway or Italy, but we are also America’s strongest allies. We are America’s bootlickers. Every stupid, ridiculous war you’ve got involved in, we’ve backed you. Every policy you’ve wanted to…


How racism still shapes modern epidemiology policies

WARNING: This article contains highly racist, offensive, and upsetting historical tropes that you will almost certainly find emotionally challenging. If this is likely to distress you, maybe skip this.

Health tropes: the ‘good’ clean people, and the ‘bad’ dirty people

Let’s start with one very obvious, if oft overlooked point: viruses, parasites, and bacterium don’t care about feelings, morals, borders, politics, nationalism, or religion. They do not care if you are a god-fearing Protestant in Alabama, or a wicked heathen dallying in any number of sins in Soho. Variants can explode into transmission in any nation, in any neighborhood, and in any family. No matter how ‘good’ you are at being…


I’m bored of being lumped in with covidiots when it comes to a huge moral issue

NOTE: Some of this is only going to applicable to the UK. I’ve done my best to explain how our system works, but I might have missed something that might not make sense elsewhere. Sorry US readers!

What happens when you need an annual health passport to avoid restrictions?

Everyone should have their vaccine shots. Honestly, given the chance, I’d have every single vaccine on the planet. To date, I’ve leapt at every single one I’ve had offered to me, from HPV to measles. I mean, why not? I hate being sick. Who doesn’t? It sucks. If I can avoid even one day without being covered in green spots or hallucinating pilgrims…

Madelaine Lucy Hanson

25 year old with an awful lot to say about everything. Opinions entirely my own. Usually. madelaine@madelainehanson.co.uk

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