Raw Slit: Viv Albertine

“Punk was the only time I fitted in. Just one tiny sliver of time where it was acceptable to say what you thought”. Viv Albertine’s words from her bestselling book Clothes, Clothes, Clothes, Music, Music, Music, Boys, Boys, Boys highlight the catharsis of the punk scene for women. No crossing of legs, no hair tamed, no comment unsaid. Punk is honesty; the drive to be unlikeable. The courage to be raw and left open. However, I must ask, where has this all gone? Why don’t we celebrate female honesty anymore, but rather shy away from it? In today’s society, the truth of the female experience is something that should be spotlighted rather than hidden, no matter how uncomfortable it may be.

Viv Albertine was a key figure in the London 1970s punk scene. Think heroin. Think illegal squats. Think sex. Think Vivienne Westwood. Think Sid Vicious. The Clash. The Sex Pistols. A utopia for the wild Albertine. Her first book Clothes, Clothes, Clothes, Music, Music, Music, Boys, Boys, Boys starts oT as a whirlwind of anecdotes, intoxicating the reader. From tales of Vivienne Westwood dressing her up at the iconic ‘Sex’ shop on the King’s Road to getting in vicious brawls at her own band’s (The Slits) gigs with ignorant men, Albertine is entrancing in the way she writes. The Slits were a shock to the music scene. They were confusing through their lack of rhythm and anarchic melodies, yet people were intrigued, including Island Records who signed them in 1979. She doesn’t take the classic route of autobiographies where many drool on, almost sneaking around what the reader truly wants, truth. However, as Albertine’s story closes, she shifts to a more quiet, confessional tone. The frenzy starts to fade, leaving Albertine with an emptiness she must fill. She adapts to the normality of her new reality, enrolling in film school and working as a promo video producer. She details her seven years of infertility treatment, eleven IVF treatments, one miscarriage, one ectopic pregnancy and cervix cancer. This section of her book polarises with the first half. Whilst the first half focuses on the truth of the punk scene, the second half focuses on the truth of the female experience. It’s a brave move; to pivot from the insanity of punk to the unvarnished reality of womanhood. In doing so, she insists that women’s private realities deserve the same weight and visibility as cultural history.

She doesn’t want to be likeable. Why should she? In her attempts to become the ‘Hastings housewife’, Albertine realises her deep unhappiness in her relationship with her then husband. “I think most people in long marriages have a touch of Stockholm Syndrome” she admits in her book. Another brave move. She also admits that within the circle of ‘friends’ she made whilst settling down in Hastings, most of them were having aTairs and were happy in doing that. By exposing the cracks in marriage and the hidden

betrayals of suburban love, Albertine denies the false narrative so often imposed on women, that settling down is the natural endpoint, that domesticity equals fulfilment. She tears down the illusion of harmony that women are often expected to maintain. When we look to women today, especially those involved with social media, we see the desire to perform. There has been an influx of couple’s content online recently. The captions, the hashtags, the carefully lit kitchens. It’s all façade. Social media reinforces the image of the trophy wife. Ever smiling, ever cooking, ever silent. Honesty doesn’t trend. Vulnerability won’t go viral. Therefore, women must edit themselves into characters, portraying falsehood to hide the truths that Viv Albertine was unafraid to expose.

For many women, honesty is uncomfortable. It is frowned upon to talk about sex, blood, pleasure- the very realities that shape us. We are conditioned to be pristine. We are never to mention about what leaks, what aches, what we desire. It’s vulgar. It’s gross. It’s unnecessary. So, who can blame us for wanting to pretend everything is fine? Pretending is safe. Pretending is easy. Pretending is palatable. However, it is voices like Albertine’s that allow for honesty to be normalised among women. We must highlight the injustices of our experiences, if not for us but for future generations to come. Viv Albertine has showed us what honesty looks like, leaving us with a challenge; what are we hiding?

By Hannah Hurd