Tradition? (Golf) balls!

Last weekend golf fans from all over the world watched the US Masters at the Augusta National Golf Club.

Augusta is one of the best golf courses in the world. Its elite membership policy means it admits only the highest echelons of US society. Oh, and by that, I mean men. Yes, women aren't allowed to join Augusta. Seriously. In a show of sexism worthy of the Church of England, it's men-only all the way. How quaint.

The Masters is sponsored by IBM. Traditionally, the CEO of IBM has been offered membership of the golf club - the last four CEOs all became members. This year, IBM's CEO is a woman - Virginia Rometty. Has she been offered membership? Augusta has remained suspiciously quiet about the whole thing.

Now, if the powers that be at Augusta want to continue this archaic admissions policy, in the mistaken belief that it somehow makes them 'posher' then so be it. Actually, to be fair, I must confess that Augusta's membership list is one big massive secret. So, in theory, there could already be a female member that no one knows about. Somehow I doubt it, though.

Anyway, if they want to enforce a no-women policy, then fine. It makes them look like idiots but that's up to them. But why does everyone go along with it? Why do the golfers - who strike me as a very sensible bunch of rather nice chaps - all agree to play there? Why oh why don't they just say no? Why does the BBC spend my licence fee on televising the event? Why did Hazel Irvine do the commentary?

Presumably Augusta doesn't care much for the opinions of women so us complaining isn't going to give them much pause for thought (that's no reason to shut up, though). In fact, Barack Obama's press secretary Jay Carney said the president's personal opinion was that women should be admitted. So if they don't listen to him...

But money talks, my friend. If the golf establishment spoke up, something might happen. If IBM pulled its sponsorship for example. Or the TV channels refused to broadcast the event. If Hazel Irvine had said she wouldn't report from the competition. (By the way, the New York Times' golf writer Karen Crouse said if it were up to her, she wouldn't cover the event again until there was a female member. She was reprimanded by her sports editor for being so outspoken). And, most importantly, if the golfers refused to play - I bet your bottom dollar (see how I speak American!) they'd change that membership policy pretty damn quick.

Stop talking about Samantha Brick!

I was born a feminist. Largely because I come from a family of strong women - on both sides - who taught me I can do anything and be anything I want. My incredible mum can turn her hand to anything, Auntie Norma is the cleverest person I know, Auntie Pauline fearlessly left home and built an amazing new life on the other side of the world and my Grandma, Jess, brought up four children (single-handedly for some of it), fostered others, ran her own business and somehow managed to find time to be a local councillor.

So it was with dismay that I watched the hoohah (I've never written that before - is that how it's spelled?) unfold over Samantha Brick's claim in the Daily Mail that women hate her because she's beautiful.

"She's not all that," some people said/tweeted/facebooked. Others pointed out that it was probably her over-inflated ego that lost her friends, not her nice hair. I admit I joined in. We gathered round my colleague's computer, read bits of the feature out loud and laughed. And then a thought occurred to me. Was this an elaborate test set by the women-hating Daily Mail? And had we all just failed it?

I'm a journalist. I know how it works. And I suspect this was an idea dreamed up by a couple of features eds on the paper. "Let's prove women hate each other," they'd have said. "And let's choose someone who's pretty but not stop-the-traffic stunning."

Up stepped Ms Brick. Why would she hold herself up to such ridicule, you may ask? Well, frankly, I'd write anything for a couple of hundred quid and a bag of Maltesers. I assume Ms Brick is the same. Freelance journalists tend not to be too fussy...

Ms Brick put pen to paper, the Daily Mail printed it, and then they sat back and watched as we all bayed for her blood. Epic fail, girlfriends. Epic. We've been played. By the Daily bloody Mail. And the worst thing about it is, it's not even true. Of course women don't hate their beautiful friends. We all love it when a friend glows with pregnancy, or wows 'em down the aisle on her wedding day. My own bridesmaids were jaw-droppingly pretty. I didn't sack them because of it.

So, like I do when my toddler's being naughty, let's give this no more attention. Let's ignore Samantha Brick and her silly article. Let's stop looking at the Daily Mail's website (oh, okay, I know it's really good for celeb gossip and pictures of awards and stuff. Let's see if we can limit it to once a day, eh?) and let's start celebrating each other. Women are all beautiful. And they rock. That's all.