Why Men Should Support Raging Cows

An Invitation to Step Out of the Patriarchal Paddock

Let’s get something straight from the start: Raging Cows isn’t for the faint of heart or the comfortably numb. It’s a fiercely feminist, brutally funny arts magazine that skewers sacred cows and serves them rare. It’s a rallying cry, a creative explosion, and, most importantly, a challenge — not just to women, but to men. Especially men.

So why should men support it?

Because Raging Cows is doing something radical — it’s asking everyone to wake up. And if you’re a man who’s even vaguely self-aware, you know that we’ve all been lulled into a stupor. The stories we’ve inherited and upheld — about strength, leadership, genius, humour, sex, love — are often soaked in testosterone, and blind to the beauty and complexity outside that narrow frame. Raging Cows rips the frame off the wall and sets fire to it.

Supporting this magazine doesn’t mean apologising for being a man. It means being curious enough to see the world through a lens not built for you. It means being brave enough to be uncomfortable — to laugh when it’s dark, to listen when it stings, and to question when everything you know feels suddenly unstable.

Let’s face it, we need more of that.

You say you’re tired of toxic masculinity? Then support spaces that aren't toxic, period. Spaces where women don't water themselves down for the male gaze. Where humour isn't filtered through a bro-lens. Where rage isn't pathologised. Where art punches up, not down.

Men who support Raging Cows aren’t losing power — they’re gaining perspective. They’re expanding their vocabulary. They’re seeing what it looks like when creativity is uncensored and unapologetic. And if you really believe in equality — not just the buzzword, but the uncomfortable, revolutionary, paradigm-shifting kind — then this is where you put your money, your eyeballs, and your name.

Because the barn doors are open, the sacred cows are restless, and the bulls? The smart ones are already reading.

No bull.

Amira Clarke

A former policy researcher turned radical columnist, Amira brings fire and forensic clarity to her monthly political column, “State of Disunion.” Her work bridges the gap between grassroots activism and institutional critique — she’s as fluent in abolitionist theory as she is in parliamentary doublespeak, and she’s unafraid to name names.

Raised in Brixton and educated in Oxford (where she once got kicked out of a debating society for calling a minister “a well-groomed meat puppet”), Amira writes with the cool precision of someone who knows exactly how the system works — and exactly why it doesn’t.

Her column dissects global and local politics through a feminist, anti-capitalist lens, with recurring targets including carceral feminism, corporate virtue signalling, and the erosion of bodily autonomy through legislative creep. She once described NATO as “a boys’ club with bombs and better PR,” and the quote now lives on a protest placard spotted in Berlin.

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