At the age of 26, Gina Martin’s activism career ignited as she spearheaded the successful campaign which criminalised upskirting. Her latest book, No Offence, But . . . , was written for her 21-year-old self in mind, a 21-year-old self who felt less equipped to respond to what she calls ‘conversation stoppers’: antagonistic phrases which are typically put forward by people from ‘dominant groups’. Ranging from ‘I don’t see colour’ to ‘men aren’t doing anything to help feminism’, there are 20 conversation stoppers explored in the book by expert essayists.

As Martin explains, these commonly heard phrases are ‘often the most annoying or frustrating’ but were purposefully chosen to equip readers with memorable prompts for when conversations derail into uncomfortable territory. ‘If I went to dinner with a biologist, I’m not gonna start arguing about biology,’ laughs Martin, when I bring up my own humiliating memory of conversing with a ‘devil’s advocate’ (read: date who doesn’t believe in the gender pay gap) and losing terribly. ‘People try to purposely rile us up’, says Martin. Importantly though, the premise of her educational book isn’t all about winning arguments; Martin hopes that readers will feel ‘confronted and challenged’ by their own biases across the intersections of gender, race, disability and religion.

Weaving in her own experiences, No Offence, But . . . outlines how the upskirting campaign taught her how to use the art of diplomacy to achieve political change. Fuelled by ‘righteous anger’ and spurred on by her own experience of being repeatedly failed by policing, she recognises that this rage can ‘de-legitimise’ women. When it comes to public and persuasive speaking, Martin tries to strike a balance between her own authenticity and anger to reach a constructive outcome. Just as she herself enters a ‘calm space in [her] body’ before delivering a message, it’s this ‘comfortable confidence’ that her book seeks to enact in the reader.

The intersectional editorial approach of No Offence, But . . .  underlines how Martin has moved away from the ‘white feminism’ of her early twenties. Rather than harnessing feminism for ‘self-optimisation’, she is using an intersectional lens to prioritise the ‘work, frameworks and research of all different types of people’. Before pitching the book to publishers, she thought carefully about who should pen the essays. Resulting in a combination of campaigners and educators she has profound respect for, Martin's face lights up when she mentions that Aja Barber and Ben Hurst, two close friends of hers, also contributed to the book. 

No Offence, But . . .  repeatedly illuminates the power Martin has found in friendships which are bound by shared experiences, particularly of gender-based violence. At Edinburgh International Book Festival, she will be joined by her friends Barber and Hurst for an event which will provide the audience with advice on how to implement constructive feminist messages in otherwise infuriating conversations. As Martin explains, she feels comfortable 'dial[ling] up' her 'righteous anger' when she's in the right company; the kind of company we can expect from this panel of speakers. 

No Offence, But . . . is published by Penguin and is out now.