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1. Sex
Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t have sex. Go for it, by all means. But the ‘taboo’ aspect is a matter of subtlety. If, for example, you’ve been headboard-thumping the plaster off the walls all night to a soundtrack of animalistic grunting, it’s advisable to creep stealthily past any bristling flatmates – don’t gyrate your way to the kitchen and playfully spank them with tea-towels. It won’t be funny. Likewise with the walk of shame – exercise subtlety, readers! Be creative; stick close to (ie. cower behind) parked cars, or stride purposefully with a furrowed brow, as though you are late for something highly important. Try to ‘own’ the bed-head look. I saw a young chap recently who roused my suspicion by (unwisely) walking against the flow of university-goers at 9am. Looking smug, he had clearly fashioned a semi-believable Johnny depp-chic ensemble out of last night’s pirate costume. On closer inspection, his strategy fell apart when I noted the words ‘I love anal’ scrawled across his beer-stained pantaloons.

2. Nudity
Of course the ‘walk of pride’ is only achievable if you actually retain your clothes from the night before. Ergo taboo no. 2. Now there is nothing shameful or unpleasant in nakedness, and certainly stripping ‘for a laugh’ at the end of a raucous evening can prove amicable if you’re a daring type, but nevertheless, public exposure of your genitalia is pretty taboo (and illegal) in society. Hence, readers, necessary measures must be taken: ban all photography and keep an eye on abandoned garments. Remember, the walk of shame becomes a hellish parade of eternal disgrace if the folks behind are made to follow a pair of pale, flabby buttocks. If you really insist on being one of those people who take a sip of their corona and cannot fight the urge to return to ‘how nature intended it’, then my advice to you would be to fake tan the day before, clench, and run like the wind.

3. Politics
Some may not consider this a ‘taboo’, but it rather depends on the particulars, namely, the absurdity of your beliefs, and the lunacy of others. Example: I’m not an avid fan of Thatcher, and I must admit to certain ‘alternative’ beliefs regarding her authoritarian trade policies and subsequent perpetuation of world poverty. Should I have voiced these opinions? No. Did I? Yes - and, horror of all horrors, in front of my authoritarian right-wing war-supporting capitalist neighbours. BIG MISTAKE. I suffered weeks of derisive mocking and endured endless snide remarks. When I turned a light on, I was reminded that I’d ‘be having a 3-day week if it weren’t for Thatcher’. Upon taking the bus, it was presumed that I ‘delighted in using war oil.’ After shopping, I had to address the issue of whether Marx would approve of my spending. How to avoid the dreaded taboo of political dissonance? Maintain dignity. Wikipedia everything and alter your tone of voice to one of a bored, extensively knowledgeable professional. And naturally, recognize the fact that your opinions will always clash with some fruitcake, no matter how superior and correct you are.

4. Urination
Taboo-breaking activity is at its most criminal when desperate times call for desperate measures. Any victim of circumstance would, in the event of 6 mojitos, a 30-minute walk home and not a Macdonald’s in sight, be heartily persuaded to ‘squat, release, and avoid the police.’ Once again, however, timing and location are everything. Let us imagine the oafish friend of mine who was queuing outside a club when he felt that tell-tale contracting of the bladder. Unfortunately, as he was attending to his needs on the pavement, his ill-chosen sparkly cowboy hat fell to the ground and received the brunt of the offending liquid. Indifferent, the said friend continued and strutted back to his evening’s entertainment, sacrificing the item for the sake of cleanliness. Later, glancing up from the crowd of dancers, he spotted an even more intoxicated young man, beaming proudly from beneath his newfound headgear. Shudder.

5. Flatulence
This is simply never acceptable in public. If you do this, you are too far gone to be helped.

6. Masturbation
Natural, healthy, normal, yada-yada, everyone does it but only the audacious talk of it. I’m all for free expression (if not purely for the impressive wide-ranging catalogue of bizarre euphemisms). However, flagrant taboo-breaking is still a no-no, as exemplified in the case of yet another of my delightful friends, this time female. After leaving her straighteners on for the umpteenth time her room caught fire - bad luck. Unfortunately, her vibrator melted on to the appliance responsible, and fire-men had to ask awkward questions about the liquefied purple plastic that they’d had to remove. Oh God.

7. Vegetarianism
A moral and eco-friendly choice, or a deadly sin? Vegetarianism is in many ways the greatest taboo – ask anyone who has been on the receiving end of the horrified gasps, condescending head shakes, and mutterings of disapproval from appalled meat-eaters. My advice? If your dinner-party host is particularly carnivorous, make up a sob-story like ‘my grandfather died before I was born’ (it doesn’t even have to be related, just use it to gain sympathy - it works on the x-factor) – then, sit back and relax as they pile the veggies on to your plate.

Thus it appears that with a dash of imagination and a hint of tact, even the most obstinate taboo can be circumnavigated. Play your cards right and you could be urinating, masturbating, veg-consuming and politically disagreeing your way to taboo-breaking heaven. Just remember, never fart.

They travel to admire you, compare you to others before they choose you, from a range of options, they take you home, cherish you and show you off to all their friends. So, what are you? A man’s new car, watch or latest electronic gadget? No, you’re their new wife. This is what an increasing number of men are doing now, quite literally, shopping for their wives on the Internet in a phenomenon known as ‘Mail Order Brides’.

The metaphor above, which may seem comical to an extent, does effectively put the issue into perspective. Men can buy women, as they can buy anything else. Exploring ‘Mail Order Brides’ on the Internet only supported this. A simple google search uncovered a whole new world; it seemed unbelievable to me that this dark and unknown industry was available at the click of a button! That is how easy it is. What struck me most about my findings, and supports what I have already said, was how mercenary it all seems and also the use of figures to boast that their site was the best in terms of availability. It is just like purchasing a product! The men themselves see it this way too. One ‘buyer’ explains in his blog that he was ‘thrilled’ by how easy it was and said it was just like “adding Elena to the cart” (these were his words!). Surely it is wrong that women can be sold in this way and, even worse, that men take pleasure from it.

So at first I am pretty stunned as I browse the pages of these sites. It feels as if these women are being violated, are victims but then I sit back and think about it. I am pretty certain that in the majority of cases nobody is forcing these women to do this. The majority of them are in control and are doing it for themselves. I viewed the men as vultures, preying on the women but could I be right in thinking that maybe it works the other way too? Before I debate this further I think we need to look at the facts, what goes on behind the scenes?

‘Mail Order Bride’ is a label given to a woman who publishes her intent to marry someone from another, usually more developed country. A lot of ‘Mail Order Brides’ are from Eastern Europe and were driven by the collapse of the Soviet Union to dream of moving to a richer, more prosperous country where they could perhaps have a better life. Nowadays, however, they are not just coming from the less developed countries. It is difficult to pinpoint accurate figures of how many of these brides – to – be in fact exist but we can assume it is in the hundred’s of thousands, with single websites alone advertising 10,000 women.

The companies arranging these marriages and meetings operate in different ways. Some take a fee from the men and fly them over to their country of choice to meet the women in person. Others take a less hands-on approach, charge the men to sign up to the websites then leave the men and women to meet for themselves.

‘Mail Order Brides’ are not illegal. Flying half way around the world to marry a man you have never even met is a highly risk business and only recently have laws been put into place to control this. Men with a criminal record searching for a wife on the internet have to declare their misdemeanours but of most concern is the fact that the men are still able to go ahead. There are, however, immigration constraints.This industry raises both pros and cons and carries risks for both men and women. It seems unfair to judge. It certainly has its risks, but doesn’t everything? It works for some but can bring tragedy to others. From one perspective, we see men taking away women who may not know what they are getting themselves into and, from the other perspective, we see gold diggers who are only interested in men for their money. It seems that, a lot of the time, both parties are acting totally out of self-interest: an attractive young woman to call your wife or a wealthy Western man to provide for you. At least nobody is pretending.

I have barely scratched the surface of this issue. How do I know that what I can see is the whole story? I don’t, but what does seem clear to me is that the industry will only grow. Let’s just hope that as its popularity increases so does its safety.

It is easy enough to say that sex is just penetration, but this can be a flawed and closed minded approach.

Firstly, it seems that people don’t seem to question the term ‘gay sex’ when applied to men. If a man and a woman can have sex, and a man and a man can have sex, but two women can’t, then the world looks at sex through very masculine eyes. And if people insist that sex must involve penetration, then why not consider that lesbian sex often does involve penetration, just not with a penis.

To be blunt about it, fingers can penetrate and so can a dildo, even if many lesbians prefer non-penetrative sex. But the argument that sex must involve penetration is in any case slightly flawed, since we do not exclude from the sex definition all that heterosexual couples do that is not the actual act of penetration. Nobody seems to have an issue with the term ‘oral sex’ for instance.

The second issue with simply defining sex as penetration is that the act of having sex with someone goes beyond a physical act, it is emotional too. Now sure, I’m not going to argue that it’s not sex if the couple don’t love each other, but we cannot disregard the emotional side completely from our definition: if a girl is raped she is unlikely to say ‘we had sex’ about the man who raped her. ‘We had sex’ implies an emotional commitment too.

Nobody could argue that lesbian sex lacks this emotional side. How intimate couples are with each other, and what level of feeling they have for each other is obviously nothing to do with sexual orientation. To a certain extent, whether or not something is ‘sex’ depends on how the participants view it: there’s something to be said for the argument that if you feel like you’re having sex, you are. If a lesbian couple describe what they do as sex, who is to say it’s not?

Having stated that penetration is a flawed definition of sex, when we look at what else defines sex it is the similarities and not the differences between heterosexual and lesbian sex which seem to stand out. Both are intimate acts between two people (or more, of course...), both are expressions of feeling for one another, and bluntly, both are satisfying a carnal urge. When it comes to orgasms, statistically gay women have it better than straight women. REF. Are we really that surprised? There are age old jokes about men not knowing the location of the clitoris. Women understand women’s bodies and emotions better than men (though a lesbian friend did point out to me that women can be crap in bed too!).

One slightly contentious definition of sex could be whether or not you have an orgasm. In that case any number of things can define sex, and not just penetration, but on the other hand it would follow that sex without orgasm is not ‘real’ sex, which I think most people would dispute. However, it’s an interesting perspective: many women never climax through penetration, and only through clitoral stimulation.

When it comes down to it, what a man does to a woman to make her climax can be exactly the same as what a woman might do to another woman. I would argue that society as a whole puts far too much emphasis on the penis, even if many of us do love them. In the end I’m not sure it’s a question of what’s real or proper sex, but rather a question of opening up and talking about these issues, and admitting that sex is not just one thing but a whole range of experiences that are going to be different for every person, and this will be the case whatever your sexual preference. For this reason nobody can dictate what is or is not sex.

In India, women and their concerns are often secondary to those of men. Even amongst the English-speaking educated elite, women are expected to follow a man’s lead, be it that of father, brother or husband. The cultural conventions of all faiths, Hindu, Muslim, Christian or tribal, demand that women know their secondary place in the order of things and behave accordingly. The strongest of these, the ones most strongly enforced often with violence, are the taboos concerning their sexuality.

Bangalore market. The throbbing, thriving heart of the market now lives on every floor of a dilapidated, high-rise, concrete, former car park and its noise and bustle weaves out on to the surrounding streets. The ground floor is still used for parking, every space packed, each car seeming to block every other, the horns of those wishing to leave ear-splitting. Rivulets of urine run into puddles that you must jump and skip to avoid. The sickly stench is intensified by the humidity. Defecating in public in England is taboo; in India, because of a chronic shortage of public lavatories, it is permissible for men, children and the old. It is taboo to all women of childbearing age.

Up a floor and into light and colour. Here are the flowers, great mountains of red, yellow, orange, purple, pink, white and blue; every colour crowded together. These flowers are threaded together to make continuous chains which are broken off depending on how much the customer requires. Trying not to get lost, one wanders between the stalls, not just flowers can be found but also huge mounds of vegetables, great sacks of spices and pyramids of powdered dye. The vibrant colours and stunning scents couldn't be a greater contrast to the dank, dark dungeon below.

As if this wasn't enough to overwhelm one mustn't forget the mass of people, the constant haggling and chatter as the prices are agreed on. Street children run around topless playing, shrieking and taking food where they can like the opening scene from 'Aladdin'. Tiny old women pinching and poking you as they barge past with surprising strength carrying tarpaulin bags over their shoulders stuffed with their shopping. This is their domain, their territory; where, unlike at home, they are in charge. They travel for miles into the city from the country in order to get the cheapest prices and walk home again at the end of the day, no money for transport. Women are expected to behave with demeanour. Lowering their eyes when serving men and sitting behind the owner/husband they wear yashmaks, headscarves and saris that hide their figure.

The next floor is full of shops selling nails, buckets, drills, wire, plugs, sockets, brushes, mops, bolts, electrical goods, each one looking like it is second, third, fourth hand. Slightly quieter here, this is the domain of men; Women as cooks, sweepers, carriers, vigilant watchers over the infinite numbers of objects fingered by hundreds of possible customers every day. The men are the experts, however minimal their knowledge; the women know nothing. Illiterate and expert only in childbearing matters, all fields of knowledge are taboo for the vast majority of women.

Looking down over the slow-moving mass of heads punctuated by bicycles, rickshaws and taxis with numerous bundles and boxes attached as they intermingle in this web as it sprawls out into the city. The stray dogs slink by in groups avoiding the sticks and stones thrown at them. Cows meander aimlessly, eating scraps; one brightly-clad woman saves her baby from being trampled just in time as a cow barges through her pile of cabbages.

Along with this mess, this confusion, comes a culture that many westerners find hard to fathom. Gap year students travel and pay to look after orphans and the poor, while rich Indians drive past in Bentleys. Even those with next to nothing will spend what little they have on food that will become an offering to the gods and would rather buy a banana for a monkey (at Hanuman, the monkey god's temple) than a starving child. In India, outside the upper and middle classes, women can still be married off as young as four, forced to do all the chores in their new home, endure a second wife, divorced for being barren of sons or for suspected infidelity, abandoned in old age and nearly always ignored in the counsels of the Panchayats. Here we have the so-called ‘largest democracy in the world’ where politics is taboo to all but a few of the best connected of women.

You can imagine the viciously strict rules a growing girl has to obey. Sex is the source of each of the taboos above. Their collective, coordinated aim is to keep women’s sexuality tightly held within family, class and place, supervised and watched at all times, never to be free of family until owned and imprisoned in a marriage she did not freely choose

Despite all this, there is change happening. NGOs teach sex education as well as the importance of healthy living. Villages are being reached and voices are being heard. More and more women are becoming involved in politics and more young, middle-class people are standing up for the justice and rights evoked by those such as Mahatma Gandhi. However, in this, the most densely populated and one of the most religious countries in the world, change will take time and continuing effort

The celebration of harmony between heterosexual men and women is a taboo subject in gendered discussion. Both male and female sides of the story give off a distinctly separatist aroma, whether by othering women; or by condemning the male structure.

So, let’s talk about the possibility of a platonic friendship between a man and a woman. The term ‘gendered friendship’ will suffice for the sake of my ink cartridges. In the supposed melting pot that makes up university life in the twenty-first century, this is particularly relevant. We share houses, bathrooms and occasionally bodily fluids, but is that all?

The issue of ‘gendered friendship’ is an issue that plays out not in theoretical debate, but in the baffling world of our daily interactions. Not more so than under the microscope at university. Relationships here must form under more intense circumstances than those we know at home (where it can take years to ruin a good friendship).

Before embarking on my evangelical rant about the endless joys of the platonic union between males and females, certain acknowledgements must be made. I do not speak for all women. Far from it. I know that my subjective experience is from an exceptionally specific point in time and culture. I know that I am writing from a social position that grants me full voice. I have unmediated opinion (which so many lack) and indeed, the opportunity to even pursue a non-familial platonic relationship with a male. I also know that the above statement self-evidently explains the glaring absence of real female liberation. My privileged argument is a case in point.

After all this, I am nonetheless aware that even in my small world there is a daily battle. In this I try to negotiate my experience of relationships without insulting my understanding of feminism. This, I may add, is an absolute minefield at the best of times. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes my figurative leg is blown right off.

Studying feminism and gendered debate over some years has (rather annoyingly) produced a wealth of conflicting emotions in my psyche. My first feminist text, in the shape of Germaine Greer’s The Whole Woman, changed my life. It invoked all at once a sense of epiphany, and a final realization of what had been missing from my vocabulary. Her voice encompassed the anger that I felt, until then without words.

From then on, my relationship with feminism, much like my relationship with men, has undergone constant change and development. The two never really got off on the same foot, to tell the truth. From the burning injustice that I have felt towards men and male structures, to the rich and fulfilling experiences shared with many males; it’s been complicated to say the least.

Subjugation, male coercion and discrimination have been painfully real in my life. However, alongside this has always existed a real and potent connection to many men, in a platonic capacity

I’m not denying the power of anger. Rage has a real place in my (complicated) feminist ethic. It breathes life into feminist debate, facilitates action and resistance in ways that calm detachment never could. But anger is also destructive. It can be harmful, and there is a real chance of warping so many positive aspects of gendered interaction when one is fuming all the time.

Maybe it’s Stockholm syndrome. But I have found that mediating my anger at my position in society has led to a positive change in my relationships with men (and not just for the men). Negotiation is the key. My platonic friendships with men are perfect examples of the dilemma I face in doing this, both as a feminist and a non-political animal. To be fair, it’s quite hard to mediate the radical feminist within yourself when the words ‘Look at the tits on it!’ are being shouted merrily at the TV during Hollyoaks.

As I have progressed (or regressed, depending on your view) through my emotional and political conflict with the men in my life, my anger has subsided. I’m pleased to announce that it still flares with every piece of flippant sexism that remains engraved onto the daily routine of most males. However, it has been joined (not replaced) by a sense of understanding (not acceptance). For me, realising the limitations that the average male friend in identifying with my anger at his system is not compliance.

It’s an age-old debate, but whatever. Men really ARE constrained by their own discourses, just as women are. The problem lies in the structures that compel us. This is not a denial of the changes man need to make. It means that change needs to come from within, by education and negotiation-not separatism.

Men are from Mars after all, and there’s no point pretending otherwise. This may sound like its own brand of separatism, but realizing this has helped develop my feminist understanding of men. It has actually helped ‘bridge the gap’ in communication beyond belief, dear reader.

Some of the strongest foundations of solidarity, support and communication that I have ever formed in my life have been with male friends. It is possible to be viewed as the person, not the ‘other’ and that goes for both men and women. Although glimpses of it are rare, they are valuable to me. The aim is not to merge into a homogenous blob (who wants to lose their identity?) but to signal effectively to each other across the void. Within this framework gendered barriers can be negotiated to a fruitful friendship.

It’s not all sunshine though. I lock horns on a regular basis with my male friends around the issues discussed, plus about a million more. Sex, power and role formation (to name but a few) all contribute to my occasional despair at the war of the sexes. However, my freedom to challenge, and my lack of fear in doing so provides the environment for eroding the divide. This freedom comes from the foundations of friendship and respect built between my male friends and I.

‘Gendered friendships’ lack the a priori understanding that is achieved through shared experience. Therefore they require different tools. Gender politics isn’t black and white, and separatism isn’t the answer. Relationships with men take work (whether you are sleeping with them or not, it seems). They must be constructed, negotiated and, horror of horrors, compromised.

It is not a perfect scenario. It is not without its flaws. However, it educates me and the male of the species in each other’s perceptions and allows me a closer understanding of the men in my life. All the better to challenge it with.

You're not allowed to talk about it. If you find a leaflet in my room, don't ask me about it: you won't understand. If you see me crying then walk away, you won't feel comfortable talking about mental illness; no one really does. However, all it takes is for one person to tell another that they too have suffered or been affected by some form of mental illness. People need to start sharing their worries and afflictions with another. Mental illness is a taboo subject that people find hard to discuss, whether it be in the media or between good friends. Whilst thinking of article ideas for this very magazine, the thought of writing about non-conformal sexual practices might have been quirky and interesting but the idea of talking about depression troubled me, as the topic is viewed with suspicion. It's time we started talking openly about these issues as it is one of the main areas of health that we find hard to tackle. Yet is the most important one to discuss. Young people away from home for the first time, trying to cope with various different emotions, stress of university work, alcohol, new friends, going out, staying in; all have to confront the idea of anxiety and depression. This could be when you can't get out of bed all day and you don't know why, when you burst into tears at greeting card adverts, or when you start questioning life and you don't really know why either. Hopefully somewhere along the line you find that you can confide in someone, or get yourself to one of the University's various counselling centres. Though for many this just isn't happening. Only 14% of young people who commit suicide were in contact with a mental health team.

It's vital that we start talking about these issues. If we don't, people will continue to not get the support and advice that they need and risk further feelings of estrangement from a society, which unfortunately for us, is characterised by a stiff upper lip and keeping a brave face. Women these days feel that they need to be everything; do well at school, look perfect, have the right man, the job and the friends; which in an increasingly hectic world means that we are becoming more stressed and tired which can lead to real mental issues. It is no secret that substance abuse in socially accepted forms of alcohol and even drugs in the student community, have side effects that can lead to mental illness in one form or another. Yet this behaviour is promoted by our own society, perhaps even encouraged. When you do start talking about these issues you will find that almost everyone has been affected by mental illness, either directly or indirectly, and that people feel very alienated by their unfounded embarrassment of 'madness'. I for one have voiced my own personal afflictions and it's hard not to notice people looking down at the floor and shuffling around, refusing to make eye contact.

Women need to stop feeling as if it's their fault that they feel like shit and start to get the help that they need. Take abortions for instance; the right help is not always available and it can be months after the event, before a woman feels really affected by the abortion. It's not a decision that is taken lightly but the attitude is to soldier on, and sympathies quickly run dry (she shouldn't have got pregnant in the first place apparently). Yet there's still a lot of public feeling that if you have 'a mental illness' you are merely attention seeking and should simply 'pull yourself together'. If you've ever suffered from depression or anxiety disorders you'll know that this is not the case and it needs immediate treatment through medication and/or psychotherapy; which can, in some cases, lead to a full recovery.

But as an illness that cannot often be defined or physically seen, it's hard to define and treat. New incapacity benefits guidelines will ask people to undergo tests to judge their inability to work, and this will surely be felt by those with mental illness, who in some cases will probably be missed out by an unsympathetic testing system. Vulnerable women are also more likely to develop mental illness in one way or another, a staggering 37% of women in British prisons attempt suicide, which highlights how severe a problem this is. Yet 70% of women in prison have mental health problems, which highlights how we need to help these women, not to ignore them. If we want to change people's attitudes to mental illness then let's start talking more openly, listen to those that need you, share secrets you wouldn't have done before and you'll find it not only brings you closer to each other but lifts your spirits as well.

When my friend told me she didn’t want children I was confused. Of course she wants children, just not right now! No? ... Never? … Huh? It had never really occurred to me that women might actively choose not to be mothers, that when they looked through their rose tinted glasses into the future they saw a blissful life sans offspring. The desire to have children always seemed so natural to me, almost ingrained in my being.

But that’s the key word here – natural. There is an expectation that it is natural for women to want children, that it is part of what makes you a woman. All women are thought to be born with an unshakeable maternal instinct so profound that their lives would lack meaning without it. So what about those without the burgeoning desire to bear children? Are they normal? Choosing to be childless is somewhat of a taboo. It would appear that the decision women make not to have children is not necessarily an issue; it is other people’s reaction to it that creates a furore. Women who do not want children have to answer for themselves, are subject to being questioned and having to repeatedly explain why. These women deviate from a socially constructed ‘norm’, and as a result are seen as unusual.

When questioned on her reasons why, my friend stated that she was “too selfish”. This turn of phrase immediately conjures up negative connotations. She, herself, deemed her decision to be fulfilling her own self-absorbed interests. The reality here is that it is much more mature and in fact the opposite of selfish to admit that you don’t want children. It is far more selfish to conform to an idealised reality because it fits in with a prescribed ‘job-marriage-baby’ cycle and forget to consider whether you truly want children. Having an unwanted child can put strains on relationships and a child that is a burden will suffer.

Whilst researching this topic I have found that freedom to pursue careers and wanting to maintain an already happy lifestyle are the core reasons for abstaining from child rearing. Many women feel they would be shackled and impeded by children. Indeed my friend also claimed that children were “messy and annoying, and you have to entertain them all the time” and that she felt she could put her energy into something else, like a career. This led me to wonder whether men feel the same, do men ever consider not having children because of the constraints it would have on their lifestyles? The men I spoke to hadn’t contemplated the alternative – they all wanted children. So what about the men that don’t want children? Do they suffer the same social outcry?

My friend admitted her boyfriend wanted children and she may have to change her feelings about motherhood for fear that he may leave her. Whilst contraception provides women with a choice, it seems the decision they are left with is not wholly emancipatory. The decision not to have children places women in a position that many will be adverse to. The fact that there are websites and forums dedicated to these women that offer support and advice about feelings of abnormality or guilt proves that this is an issue in today’s society.

It seems strange that we should berate a woman for making a considered, sensible choice that’s right for her. So next time my friend mentions her disinterest in spawning children, I won’t furrow my brow or recoil with incredulity, I’ll high five her honesty and respect her decision.