Domestic Goddess or Domestic Abuse? Or sorry, I can’t speak – your hands are on my throat!
A lot of people have waded into the whole Nigella/Saatchi domestic situation thing including no less a man than the deputy Prime Minister himself (can you think of a lesser man…?) I was half expecting the PM to make a statement in the House. Come on Dave, you’re missing a trick – remember Tony Blair and the whole ‘Free Deirdre Barlow’ debacle?
Seriously though, as a feminist I should be defending Nigella to the hilt and demanding that Charles be publicly flogged. However as a working class woman here in the UK who has been mentally trampled by the endless media juggernaut that is the Nigella Lawson brand I’m struggling to find any feeling of sisterhood. What do I – or the vast majority of women – have in common with the vastly privileged, daughter of climate-change-denier Lord Lawson who peddles her ‘honestly, anyone can be a domestic goddess’ providing you have unlimited funds/connections/hired help/ production team at your disposal. And typical of that completely other world inhabited by those with all the money and influence in this country it goes without saying that Nigella ‘made herself a good match’ when the time came. To borrow from Mrs Merton – “What was it that attracted you to the multi-millionaire Charles Saatchi?” And to (mis)quote from The Great Gatsby “Rich girls don’t marry poor boys”.
Of course domestic abuse is not the reserve of any one class and I’m sure that Ms Lawson stood as much chance of being knocked about if she had taken up with a lowly kitchen hand from her favourite Notting Hill brasserie. But what I find hard to swallow (that wasn’t meant to be a sick joke…) is – yet again – a supposed role model is found to be wanting when caught off-guard, without a script and doesn’t have the where-with-all to speak out on something that matters.Say ‘off with his balls’ or ‘it’s complicated’ – but say something!