Chocolate cake for all.

Picture a rugby scrum, six bodies huddled together, elbows jostling for space, all crowded over the kitchen table.

The slicing of a chocolate cake fills the room with tension.

Six pairs of eyes stare intently at the treat before them. Tentative knife marks are made, finally resulting in live or die incisions.

I was number 3 of the 6 Duffy siblings.

Growing up back in the late 70's, there was no crime greater than

'It's not fair.'

We expected equal rights in every way, regardless of age or gender. Roast potatoes were counted, the number of orange smarties calculated, even the slices of iron packed liver we were forced to eat were carefully controlled. No child had a mouthful less than the others of the bad stuff.

My Mum unsurprisingly, had enough on her plate, and not prepared to play referee constantly, instigated a hard line rule.

'He who cuts.. Chooses last'

Pure agony for the selected sibling holding the knife.

If every piece was not cut 'equally', the child responsible would be left with the dreaded 'worst' piece.

Mental geometry and mathematical equations were calculated at high speed, even before we were old enough to know the meaning of the words.

My turn. Knife in hand, fully aware of the risks, my breathing shallow, beads of sweat on my forehead.

The mere idea that my slice could be 2mm less than my siblings required focus, and deep concentration.

Silently we all made our selections, a beady eye watching a particular piece. In our mind the best piece.

Cake divided and slices chosen.

'Childhood justice prevailed'.

I grew up with an excessive number of siblings, Michael, Catherine, Sarah, Elizabeth, Peter and Diana. My world had a sense of equality, fair play and working with others to achieve a shared goal.

Back then and rightly so, we knew nothing of gender, social or racial inequality.

In the Duffy house Mum was the matriarch.

She ruled with an iron look. A look that turned your blood to ice, and left you frozen in fear.

Dad did shifts. To us he would just go to 'work'. I was about 10 years old before it occurred to me to ask my father what he did.

At a girls school until the age of 18, I continued to believe that the cake was pretty much divided equally. I am not stupid! I wasn't blind to the fact that being good looking equaled extra sprinkles.

The real world lack of fair play began when I started working in hospitality.

I realised that life isn't fair! Even worse, as a woman it was really unfair!

It was the early 90', so don't hate me, or judge me.

I didn't question the consant gender discrimination that I experienced.

The cake was being divided unequally, right in front of my eyes.

I accepted the status quo.

This was the era when professional and business women were pushing back. Armoured with shoulder pads, 6 inch heels and hairspray, they were our pioneers for change.

They wanted their equal slice of the cake.

In retrospect, these women fought a War to have their piece of cake.

Men didn't change. Companies and workplaces didn't change. t was us, women who were told we had to change.

Just to be at the table where the cake was served, the weight of responsibility was on women. We became the generation of women who can have it all!

Professional, mother, wife, best friend, super model and sex siren.

Piece of cake!

Men were not deliberately helping themselves to the largest slice of cake, it was just accepted that it was rightfully theirs.

Nobody had taught them to share nicely.

Every woman has her own gender discrimination experience.

Mine was to be spoken to, and touched inappropriately on a daily basis.

To learn that my voice held less authority than my male counterparts, and that it was easier to please the boys than confront their behaviour.

In the hospitality industry we learned not to complain or make a fuss.

Standing up for myself once, whilst serving a table of drunk bankers who were verbally and physically objectionable, earned me a written warning!

Say nothing, keep your mouth shut. Don't even ask for a piece of cake.

In the following decade, so much noise was made about gender equality, it created the idea that things were changing.

'Women can have their cake and eat it!'

Of course, the truth was, all things are not equal.

In the workplace a woman performing the same role as a man in the UK, will on average still earn 18% less. That is like somebody taking your slice of cake and licking all the icing off.

An unpalatable thought.

A higher number of men in senior managerial roles, is based on the archaic idea that a senior position requires 10 or 12 hour days in the office. That might have flown in the 1970's, but today technology provides everybody, men and women with more flexible hours and locations.

'Women can take their coffee and cake to go'

An indulgent chocolate cake, baked and iced by a woman or at least ordered by one.

As the working gender gap slowly closes, there is still a gaping hole in the division of the emotional workload.

Before I can devour my slightly smaller slice (with the icing prelicked)

There is a price to pay.

The hypothetical calorific content of my piece of cake is so much higher than that of a man.

I had to plan the cake, take into account everybody's tastes, purchase the ingredients, find time to bake the cake (6.00am Sunday morning?), remember to invite my husbands parents to enjoy said cake, buy a card and gift for his mother for whose birthday the cake is to celebrate, clean the house, clean the kids, plan the lunch, order the special prosecco his mother likes, serve the lunch, then finally, not even get to cut the bloody, shitty chocolate cake!

By the time I stop to eat what I have been salivating and yearning for all day, I am not even sure I want it anymore.

In an utopian chocolate cake world, Men and women would take their cues from childhood.

Have a conversation, become allies, decide together how best to divide the cake.

Be aware that our children will copy the gender roles they see. Let them see Men who carry their own weight, and Women who don't carry everyone.

Make your sticky, gooy chocolate cake all together. We all deserve our fair share.