HAVING never brought forth a child of my own, I can only imagine I'm

feeling maternal pride as dozens of Harpies and Quines spill on to a

newsagent's counter with absolutely no physical or persuasive effort

from me. It must be the same feeling when the wean you've created and

nurtured finally takes a few steps on its own and deprogrammes the

video. Finally, for better and for worse, this baby has a life of its

own.

I'm one of the founders and directors of Harpies and Quines, the

Glasgow-based feminist magazine that almost everyone has heard about --

thanks to glossy London-based Harpers and Queen. Two years ago when a

group of women decided to take Scottish publishing by the neck and

produce something a little bolshier than your average women's magazine,

we were almost stopped in our tracks. The mighty Hearst Corporation, in

the shape of Harpers and Queen lawyers, said we couldn't use our name

because their readers might be confused and buy our nasty rag by

mistake. ''Linguistic imperialism,'' said MEP Winnie Ewing, and even the

far-from-radical Daily Telegraph seemed to agree.

For a few weeks we embodied the bolshie spirit of the Celtic underdog.

The phone never stopped ringing, the technologically illiterate learned

to use the fax machine and we quickly found out which of Scotland's

lawyers had a sense of humour, and a full-ish enough wallet to offer

free legal aid if the worst came to the worst. Which it didn't. David

stood up to Goliath, a wee Scottish company stood up to a big

multi-national -- everyone loved us because we won.

Well, now it's time to see who'll love us for what we really are, and

whether the prophets of doom are correct when they say Scottish women

are simply too conservative to sustain a monthly feminist magazine.

Because, after almost two years of writing, designing, producing and

distributing Harpies and Quines ourselves, we've finally got the cash to

use a professional distributor -- and with a head of steam, the right

staff and the right equipment to produce H&Q every month instead of

every two months.

Our circulation has trebled in a week flat from 5000 to 15,000.

Suddenly, frighteningly, we're in the almost big time and the serious

world.

After slagging off firms like the mighty John Menzies for

less-than-satisfactory treatment of small publications like ours, we're

using them. After whipping ourselves into righteous frenzies about the

dreadful sexist and exploitative nature of tabloid journalism, we're

doing a deal with the pinstriped, fast-talking brother of one-time Sun

editor Steve Sampson.

After saying that no Government quango would ever give us money

because we were perceived as a bunch of frustrated would-be mums who'd

escaped from the trolley gang we accepted cheques for almost #30,000

this year from Community Enterprise Strathclyde, and came to the

reluctant conclusion that we liked some of the men we'd been working

with, respected them a bit, and realised that sometimes they were

actually -- well, um -- right. And after roundly condemning adverts that

sell goods by depicting sexy semi-clad women, we've done it ourselves.

As one journalist put it this weekend: ''Is it so very different

getting your tits out for the lasses, not the lads?'' Well Sue, give it

a try and tell us what you find.

The point is that this poster will ask almost every Scot that claps

eyes on a billboard to think -- about feminists, dungarees, lesbians,

tits, billboards, control and power. Now it may be that Scottish

advertising campaigns do that all the time, in which case I apologise

for being shortsighted and selectively blind. But in my experience women

are not in the frame when it comes to public power and bare-backed

cheek. By daring to sup with a few pinstriped devils (who'll be quite

flattered by this description) we've done something a lot worse than

remain in pure but obscure near constant bankruptcy.

In Scotland now it's clear that feminism is alive, practical and

different. While London feminists have been tearing their hair out over

slights delivered by power-dress American feminists, Scottish sisters

have been doing it for ourselves, and doing it in the street.

Edinburgh's bold Zero Tolerance campaign posters struck publicly and

directly at the lies that keep domestic violence out of polite

conversation and away from the news headline. They make strong public

statements where the average woman, as yet, fears to tread. And the

Harpies and Quines poster campaign -- designed by the Zero Tolerance

team, Frank Raffles and Evelyn Gillan, means women with attitude should

be able to have a good long laugh or a quiet private smirk at something

on the walls for the first time in a long time.

Our photos won't sell a million books, our press calls won't attract

100 fawning hacks. We don't have big hair. But we have big ambitions.

To turn Scotland into a country where women feel respected and

powerful: to get angry at inequality and speechless with laughter at all

the absurdies along the way: to use the system and not to sell out --

unless, of course, our first monthly issue is a total success.

* Lesley Riddoch presents BBC Radio Scotland's Speaking Out from

Monday to Thursday at 10am.