Portrait by Helmi Okbara
Hollie McNish – wearing a sweatshirt and silver hoop earrings, all bright-eyed and welcoming – is sitting in front of her laptop in a twin room in a Sheffield hotel. Her fellow poet and tour mate for the week, Laurie Bolger, is just out of shot, getting dressed. “We’re both on Zooms this morning,” McNish explains. “Would you mind me taking you out to the corridor in a bit?”
This note of ordinariness is typical of the Ted Hughes award-winning poet, who’s six days into a rapidly-selling-out UK tour to mark the publication of her new collection, Virgin, which she says explores "a six-letter word with an outsized power" (her last two, Lobster and Slug, were top 20 bestsellers).
Born in Reading in 1983 to a nurse mum and a computer company director dad, she went from state school and jobs at Little Chef and Boots to studying modern and medieval languages at Cambridge. She became a full-time writer at 31, when her daughter turned four years old. Her no-holds-barred, funny writing about class, parenthood, politics, toxic masculinity and feminism has won her many fans (fellow poet Lemn Sissay memorably called her “Pam Ayres on acid”).
When I was four, I became a vegetarian because of a McDonald’s Happy Meal
McNish regularly posts her poems on Instagram, where she has developed a huge following. Four weeks ago, with anti-migrant protests and St George’s flags appearing across the country, she shared If You Want Your Country Back, her “poem to hand to a complaining member of your family”. Full of suggestions of how they can "go ahead and take it" by helping Britain via positive community acts, it went viral (the video version has had 3.4 million views so far). This follows the success of others such as Five in Six Boys, which explores the reality of who actually admires the self-proclaimed “misogynist influencer” Andrew Tate (not as many as you might think).
McNish doesn’t think social media has made the world worse. “Stuff on social media that’s terrifying is the same stuff that was terrifying before – we still had creepy people, predators and beauty magazines. There’s so much good on it too, so much more diversity of opinions, and funny stuff.” She also thinks the internet’s great for poetry. “Poetry can be daunting – people feel like it’s not for them. There are all these economic, financial and cultural barriers too, so sites like Poetry Is Not a Luxury open things up.”
What do you wish you had known at 18 that you know now?
That me having an orgasm was just as important as a male partner having an orgasm. I think that’s literally the thing that would have most changed my life and confidence at 18.
Who is your current hero or heroine?
Every friend I've got, my mum, my whole family … but if we’re talking about a hero I don't know, Audre Lorde. My friend Gemma gave me her book Uses Of The Erotic, which is the last thing I read that really blew my little mind. It's about the erotic in the everyday. People tell you that it's about this one moment in the bedroom when it’s actually in all life’s central experiences.
What instigated your political awakening?
Different people talking to me over many years. When I was four, I became a vegetarian because my brother told me the fish fingers in my McDonald’s Little Mermaid Happy Meal were made out of the fish character, Flounder. I've never eaten meat again! At 17, I had some really warped views about people in prison, before my English teacher asked me to stay after class to ask me a few questions about my essay, and then they said to me: “I just want to talk to you about the prison system.” Then, at university, I remember a group of girls asking me if I would take my husband's surname if I got married, which was something I'd never thought about before, and I didn't know that other countries and cultures did that differently. They all laughed at [my response], which also had an effect – it told me it doesn’t help just to laugh at people. But other people taking the time to educate me and actually having discussions with me have been part of my slow political awakening.
What or who brings you joy?
Rude jokes cracking through the polite surface of people. To find out my gran and my auntie were just as dirty as the rest of us brought me so much joy.
Photograph by Kat Gollock
What’s your favourite decade and why?
It annoys me when people say things like: “Imagine being in the 1920s, it was so glamorous”. There are good little bits in each decade, but that’s it. I was talking to my friend about this last night, and she was like: “Yeah, I really like the colour scheme of the 1970s, but not the marital rape laws.”
I would not go back. Right now, I've got more rights than I would have in any decade. I think quite a lot about me and my daughter. I had her out of wedlock, and we don't have the same skin colour, and even 30 years ago that bond would have been shamed. Fifty years ago, we might have been separated from one another. A hundred years ago, I might have been arrested. I hope we keep going forward and not going back.
What’s more important – romance or sex?
Sex can be very romantic! But if I had to choose one, and I could never have the other ever again, I would choose romance, because it includes more people and more experiences. Although I’d still want the sex!
What’s the best lesson you’ve taught your daughter?
Just to call me, or talk to me, if she needs help, and not to believe anyone that tries to shame her into thinking that she shouldn't tell me something. Oh, and roller skating. It took a long time – two years – but I taught her, and I'm really proud of that!
If money were no object, where would you live?
To be honest, I’d still just live where I live with my daughter, because I’m near my friends, and my daughter’s dad lives around the corner, and her grandparents are close. But if I could teleport to take my daughter to school and go to my mates’ houses really quickly, I’d either live in Paris or maybe Costa Rica. They’re a country without an army, and they're the only country whose forests are getting bigger. I’ve been there and they’re obsessed with their trees. It’s an amazing place.
Give an example of a really simple change in how we live here in the UK that you think would make an outsized difference
If we designed urban infrastructure to suit children, it would be better for every single person. I worked for 10 years in an urban planning charity, and the whole point was to get young people involved in town planning. All they wanted were youth clubs, buses, parks, somewhere to play when it's raining. I was like: I think that's what we all want.
Name a piece of art that’s inspired you recently
The Nina Simone film, What Happened, Miss Simone?, and Dave’s track Black, which my daughter introduced me to, have really inspired me, and woken me up a bit. I also recently rewatched Dirty Dancing, which has so much in it about class. As it was mainly girls who watched Dirty Dancing, it’s not called a cult or classic film. But as I watched it, I just felt: fuck you all. This is such a political movie, and it was written by a woman.
Tell us about something that's given you hope over the past few months
I know this isn’t surprising for someone like me, but [Green Party leader] Zack Polanski’s stuff popping up on social media has given me hope. Just hearing someone for the first time on Question Time saying that something's racist, or saying that a policy is racist, is amazing after we’ve had years of people tiptoeing around the subject. I've never voted Green in my life before, but I just joined the Green party.
Also, chatting to people at my gigs. Chatting to people in kebab shops when we're getting chips after the gig. Chatting to so many people on these tours in all different cities and towns. Reminding myself that most people are good and have very small things that they want to make them happy. Most people want roughly the same things.
Interview by Jude Rogers
Virgin by Hollie McNish is published by Fleet. Her tour runs until the end of March