‘The Usual’ – CAMRA’s Good Beer Guide 2020

My piece in CAMRA’s Good Beer Guide 2020 tackled diversity in all its many guises.

We lose nothing by embracing this diversity. In the same way that my cocoa nib Belgian-style sour doesn’t make your pint of bitter taste any less appealing, the diversity of people now actively involved in the UK beer scene in no way undermines the brewing and drinking traditions of the past couple of hundred years. On the contrary, it serves to strengthen it. Just like British beer itself, that blending of tradition and modernity, art and science, the past and the future, will propel us forward far more than looking backwards. We lose nothing by welcoming difference. And we have absolutely everything to gain. Without it, beer and the pubs that are so inextricably caught up in its well-being, will fail.

You can purchase the Good Beer Guide 2020 from the CAMRA bookshop.

Do You Pass the Test? Or: what can 1980s lesbians teach us about beer?

‘Beer people are lovely people!’ and ‘The beer industry is a wonderful, friendly place!’ are things I’ve been told on a number of occasions since jumping boots-first into the scene a couple of years ago. And, for me, there’s a lot of truth in these celebratory statements. I spent the first two decades of my working life in an environment where I didn’t always see the best of how things could be. As a frontline social worker – and more latterly, a social work academic – I bore witness to desperation, deprivation, and sometimes degradation on a scale most would find hard to contemplate. I met many, many good people on both sides of the intervention divide – some of the bravest, warmest, creative, most intelligent people there are – and I have a lasting respect for them all. I also derived a great deal of satisfaction from my work, and felt immensely privileged to work alongside people in some of the darkest times of their lives. But, in terms of a joyful working environment, I can’t honestly say that it comes close to chatting over a mash tun in a breath-cloud cold brewery just as the sun is rising, or being handed the fullest, maltiest, fattest barley wine by a proud brewer with a grin so wide it must sting, or discovering a taste that will pin you forever to location, a time, an emotion, a memory that  will leave you changed.

But I’m lucky. First up, I’m an old-school butch dyke. I have a quiff and a comb, a pocket watch and a pocket knife. I don’t understand make-up and I sometimes get challenged when using women’s toilets. Men are occasionally scared of me, often confused around me, and regularly amused by me, but I’m absolutely not the kind of woman they want to sleep with. Secondly, I host a beer and brewing radio show, I write about beer for publications in which people want their brews featured, I won a British Guild of Beer Writers Award for Best Online Beer Communicator (I know – I’m shocked too), and I have a website, a podcast, a blog, and so – to my face at least – both women and men in the beer industry are lovely, and the environment in which I work is a wonderful and friendly place.

But I’m aware that’s not everyone’s truth. I don’t need to experience harassment in order to believe the women who tell me they are regularly harassed. I don’t need to feel the creeping nastiness of the belittling, objectifying, ridiculing, rejecting, grabbing, groping, saliva-spraying face of sexism, to know that it exists within the beer industry. I just need to see the dodgy pumpclips, engage with social media, and note the absence of women from many respected platforms within the industry.

But, as someone with a voice that occasionally grabs attention, if I see injustice, I also need to do something more.

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I first came across Alison Bechdel and her wonderful ‘Dykes to Watch Out For’ comic strip in the early-1990s when, as a newly ‘out’ lesbian I would scour literature to find any representation of queer culture. In those pre-Internet days, Bechdel’s funny, inspiring and moving series, populated by a cast of lesbians and their friends, was one of the few places where a sympathetic portrayal of ‘women like me’ could be found. Complete with their interests, intricacies and insecurities, Mo, Sydney, Clarice and Toni, held a mirror up to the lives of lesbians all over the Western world, fighting injustice and celebrating personal victories, and all the time providing a community to those of us who were struggling to find a place in our own.

But it wasn’t until some years later that I realised that a 1985 ‘Dykes to Watch Out For’ strip called ‘The Rule’ had spawned a way of looking at the world that could be useful across many parts of life. The Bechdel Test – clearly explained in this short video here – is a benchmark or litmus test used to assess the presence of women in movies. For a movie to pass the Bechdel Test it needs to contain three things:

1. Two or more female characters with names…
2. …who talk to each other…
3. …about something other than a man.

This sounds fairly straightforward but, shockingly, around half of mainstream movies – some of our most well-loved films – actually fail this test, including the original Star Wars Trilogy, Slumdog Millionaire, Avatar, The Avengers, Finding Nemo, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the complete Lord of the Rings Trilogy, and many, many more.

Of course, just because a film passes does not mean it necessarily advances women’s rights. The Bechdel Test doesn’t assess whether something is progressive or challenging: it simply assesses whether women are present in any meaningful way. And, in a world in which women’s voices are regularly silenced, the mere presence of women is extremely important.

Over the years, the Bechdel Test has been applied or modified to assess other areas of culture including literature, journalism and even software development. And from there I believe it’s only a short hop to applying it to the contemporary beer scene. It is vital for the future of the industry that women are present on discussion panels, leading or chairing conferences, part of magazine editorial teams, present in beer education, at the centre of judging panels, represented at the highest level in brewing or consumer organisations, and called on as the experts they are to be listened to and heard. Importantly, I’m not suggesting that women are invited into male-dominated spaces solely to talk about incidents of sexism, or what it’s like being a woman in the beer industry. Making time to hear those testimonies is important but they are not the whole story – remember in order to pass the Bechdel Test, women must be talking about something other than men or their experiences at the hands of them. Inviting women into otherwise male enclaves in order to give a ‘woman’s perspective’ is also patronising, reductive and ignores the intersectional nature of all our identities in which we are defined not only by our gender – be that male, female or otherwise – but also our race, age, religion, sexuality, abilities, and so much more. It also causes us to miss out on the vast experiences and knowledge that women have amassed in their chosen fields.

The contemporary beer scene is not alone in sometimes struggling with the representation of women, and there are many examples of great work in this area. But every time women are invisible in areas of influence, every time a beer is marketed solely at men, every time a ‘beer for women’ is produced, every time we have to remind people that women were the first brewers, every time a disagreement on Twitter degenerates into macho posturing, every time craft beer lovers are portrayed as people with beards, every time a woman has to justify why she likes beer, or why offensive beer names are unacceptable, every time sexist ‘banter’ is excused, every time beer fans are greeted on social media as ‘lads’, every time the ‘women don’t drink beer’ myth is perpetuated, every time the consumption of alcohol is accepted as an excuse for sexist, racist or homophobic behaviour, we all lose out.

Having trodden the career path I have, I’m not naïve enough to propose that we should all just be kind to one another. But, at the very least, we need to hear each other’s voices. And, as such, I will continue to ensure that each edition of Fermentation Beer & Brewing Radio is Bechdel Test compliant. And I promise to loudly celebrate anyone else who, within their own field of work, commits to doing the same.

‘Make Mine a Pint’ – Diva Magazine – August 2017

The August edition of Diva – Europe’s biggest selling lifestyle magazine for lesbians and bi women – contained a feature by me about the contemporary beer scene and the women at the heart of it; women like Robyn Bell, tank manager at Manchester’s Cloudwater, Sarah Hughes, head brewer at Newport’s Tiny Rebel, and Sophie de Ronde, brewer at Burnt Mill Brewery in Suffolk, and the driving force behind International Women’s Collaboration Brew Day.

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In addition to featuring some of the lesbian and bi women involved in the brewing industry, I also highlighted some of the best places for lesbians and bi women to drink great beer across the UK.

You can read my article in full by purchasing back issues or subscribing to Diva Magazine via this link.

 

Sunday Roasting

The continued existence of sexism in beer is something I hope is familiar to all self-aware drinkers nowadays, and has been the topic of many recent articles and blog posts. From sexist beer names and pump clips, to the way female drinkers and those working in the industry are often overlooked, ridiculed and mansplained to about beer, the torch is being shone on those daily microaggressions that continue to make the world of beer less welcoming to women than it is to men. Melissa Cole’s recent column for Ferment Magazine tackled the need to also challenge racism, transphobia and homophobia in the beer industry, and so highlighted the intersectional nature of discrimination and oppression.

We all occupy a number of different identities at the same time – some of which are privileged (in my case my whiteness and my physical ability), and some of which are not (for me, my gender and my sexuality). It’s at the complex intersections of these identities that we experience our world. And it is at these intersections that I experienced the dual impact of sexism and ageism this week via a Facebook advert for a Mother’s Day event at a well-known beer venue.

The advert claimed that Mother’s Day need no longer be a ‘chore’ if ‘you’ bring ‘Mumma’ for a meal in this establishment because,

‘First of all, you get to enjoy some thirst-quenchingly awesome beer from our gargantuan selection. Win. Second, your dearest old lady gets to enjoy one of the best Sunday roasts in town for free. Double win.’

No: double lose.

Admittedly, within the Venn diagram of identity, the ellipse in which I stand – a butch lesbian mother with a penchant for fine beer – isn’t all that crowded. However, whether intentional or not (and I’m optimistically assuming the latter) this promotion effectively excluded me – and many others in neighbouring identity ellipses – from engagement. Strongly implicit here is the assumption that mothers don’t drink beer. In fact, only ‘young’ (male?) people, who usually find Mother’s Day a ‘chore’, drink beer. Mothers are ‘dearest’ and ‘old’ and like a nice roast dinner. (I imagine they might sometimes have a small glass of white wine – as long as it’s not too dry).

There’s been a push in recent years, from venues, marketeers, writers and drinkers alike, to distance themselves from the traditional image of beer – whether it be cask, keg or homebrew – as something ‘old’, ‘boring’ or ‘dated’. But this promotion actually reminded me of all those times I’ve seen mainstream beer television advertising aimed squarely at men to the neglect of women, or of noticeboards outside town centre pubs that advertise themselves as ‘male creches’ – a place to drop off ‘husbands and boyfriends’ whilst ‘wives and girlfriends’ go shopping. It was the self-same message in a slightly different font.

But it was also more worrying because it shows that in our rush to reclaim beer as something ‘modern’, ‘young’, and ‘cool’, we are in danger of reinforcing the exclusion and invisibility of certain groups. And this is particularly concerning when we know that those groups are already subject to layers of discrimination within the industry.

I’m not going to name the particular venue here because, to their credit, less than 12 hours after I called them out on this, the event was removed. I don’t know if this was as a result of my  comment on the event page or not; I just hope that some reflection and learning has now taken place.

And, just to clarify, if anyone would like to buy me a beer on Mother’s Day next Sunday, that’s absolutely fine by me. Just don’t ever mistake me for anyone’s ‘dearest old lady’.