by Guest

contribution by Lara Williams

Now identified – the woman who stood aside as her partner and his brother subjected her son, Peter, to an unparalleled and disturbing, sustained abuse and torture – Tracy Connelly is woman who’s face will be burned into the public conscious for years to come. And it seems – so will the outrage, anger and hatred of the abuse suffered by ‘Baby P’ – which has fallen almost exclusively on her shoulders.

Described as everything from a ‘sex obsessed slob’ and ‘evil mother’ to a ‘woman defined by abuse’ – Tracey Connelly has been the chief focus of the story – whilst her partner Steven Barker and his brother (and their lodger) Jason Owen have bafflingly played second fiddle in the ongoing media saga.

The lack of equality attributed to all involved in this case is both sexist and misandristic.



From drunken pub brawls to a mounting body count in Iraq – the papers on an almost daily basis feature coverage of acts of male perpetrated violence and abuse – be it against other men, women or children. Rarely, are levels of harried outrage equal to when a woman commits such acts.

The outrage appropriated by the actions (or inactions) of notorious women – Myra Hindley, Rose West, Maxine Carr and now Tracy Connelly – are tantamount to none. And rightly so. Awful, indecent acts reflexively prompt awful, indecent hatred. But why when these acts are committed by a man does our outrage become slightly more, perhaps, wearisome?

What does this say about society’s approximation of the male nature? That it is more understandable for a man to commit acts that are to most people, direly unimaginable, but for a woman to commit or turn a blind eye to these acts – well, the thought’s not even worth entertaining.

The morbid fascination of Amanda Knox – the American woman standing accused of sexually assaulting and murdering British student Meredith Kercher, whilst studying in Italy – has been a long-standing media fixture. Apparently the only thing more shocking than a woman committing atrocious acts of malevolence, is a pretty woman committing such acts.

Almost, at this point, a household name – she is unquestioningly the poster girl of this case whilst her ex-boyfriend Raffaelle Sollecito, is conveniently shirked aside despite the fact he stands accused of the same crime.

Do we subconsciously believe violence is inherent in the male nature? If not, why do we not feel equal outrage when confronted with male acts of atrocity? This feeling is grossly misandristic – and has a negative impact on both men and women.

There have been more attempts to humanise Connelly than there are her partner and his brother. Psychological profiles detailing past instances of abuse, of maternal neglect and paternal abandonment. We know that she suffered presumed alcoholism.

There have been questions raised over whether Connelly is another example of the abused becoming the abuser. She has been singled out of this case and the sole recipient of public scrutiny and enquiry. Meanwhile, her partner and brother are all too readily painted as undeviating monsters.

Why is it that we must view Connelly’s actions in human terms – that we want understanding, that we want answers – whilst we instinctively just accept the actions of Owen and Barker, no questions asked?

This two-dimensional coverage of male violence not only excuses these acts – it absolves them. A swimmer swims, a hunter hunts and an abuser abuses. Shouldn’t we be getting as angry, if not more angry, about the actions of Owen and Barker as we are about Connelly?

Do we not want answers if the perpetrators are men? Unless we engage in the complexities of both male and female acts of deviance equally, how can there be any understanding of them?

The fact is, women too have the capacity for evil. And acts of hideous violence, abuse or neglect perpetrated by a woman should not be shocking because of her gender – but because of her humanity.

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Lara Williams is a freelance writer based in Manchester.