Enough Is Too Much

It's International End Violence Against Women And Girls day today. I knew it was coming and I had been dreading it. Not because I think it unnecessary, but because it is STILL necessary.

We hear the statistics and yet it feels distant, disconnected from us somehow. Even, especially if we know someone who has been through it. Especially if that someone is us.

When I talk about things that have happened to me, I am calm and unemotional. I may as well be describing making a cup of tea. This is because I have dealt with the events and moved on. It feels like it happened to someone else, and I think that is self preservation, a coping mechanism. If I were to actually immerse myself in what it was like, how that fear took over me then I might not escape. And that would be bad.

So, if, when I describe what happened to me, I sound distant, that is the reason.

I'm going to take a deep breath and list it here though. Part catharsis, part real hopes that it connects and helps someone either leave, or not go there.

In my life I have:

Been beaten with a bamboo cane. That one was because I went back to smoking.

Had my face held over a chip pan with a knife held to my throat because dinner wasn't ready.

Been punched in the mouth just to see by way of experiment how much I would bleed.

Had crockery, cutlery and a bookcase thrown at me.

Been beaten with a nail studded bit of wood while pregnant because someone asked AS A JOKE if the baby was his.

Been locked in my flat and a fire set outside the front door so I couldn't catch him up before he spent my money at the pub.

Beaten with a chair for buying cheap dog food after he took my money.

Hospitalised twice while pregnant because he thought it funny to repeatedly kidney punch me to see how long it would take to make them fail.

Raped repeatedly.

Made to sleep on the floor without a blanket.

Kicked and punched from one end of the road to the other after a night out for smiling at a guy I used to be at school with.

Was told I was fat (8 stone 11) and ugly and no one would ever want me with a baby.

Threatened with death if I told or tried to leave.

Constantly told I was lucky to have him.

Constantly controlled emotionally, physically, financially.

I got strong when he went for the baby. That was when I said enough.

It wasn't over even then.

He stalked me, turned my family against me. Convinced my friends I was making it up.

He was so plausible.

It ended eventually when I turned the violence back against him. When I had nothing left to lose I found the strength to say enough.
I still bear the scars both physically and emotionally. But I won't let it become who I am. Because if I do, I'm lost. And he wins.

So if anything I have said resonates for you or anyone you know then please. Get out. However you can. Whatever it takes.

Be safe.

Enough isn't just enough.

It's too much.

What Feminism Looks Like To Me

I called this blog Deeva's Corner for a reason. It was always intended to be how I viewed the world from my little corner of it.

From my love of the Lannisters to my battle with anorexia, I have never claimed to speak for anyone else and I don't intend to start now.

This blog is all me, for better or worse.

Right, now I've got that out of the way, on to the reason for this post.

Feminazis. Or, more accurately, being accused of being a Feminazi. Or too feminist. Or not feminist enough. Or having my feminism defined for me. I'm tired of it. Tired of it all. So I thought I'd lay out on the line what feminism means. To me. Because believe it or not folks, I am more than capable of defining myself.

(of course this is subject to change as I learn more about myself and the world around me)

So, first question is why am I a feminist? Simple answer that one. Because I live as a woman in a world that views me as second class. Because there are still things that affect me that don't affect the men. Because no matter how far we have come, equality, true equality, hasn't yet happened.

Don't believe me?

Try living in a world where you have to risk assess going to pick up bread and milk in case you get raped.

Try living in a world where male on male sexual abuse is seen as somehow worse (gay) than male on female (more normal).

Where men think equality is a gift for them to give. (hint, check your privilege guys).

Where on prime time telly on a Saturday night, women are referred to as 'pieces of scenery' and no one gets called out on it.

Where bodily autonomy is being attacked.

Where choice is being attacked.

Where you can get cat called and harrassed and 'it only happens to good looking women, it's a compliment' is seen as a reasonable excuse.

Where women are still expected to be the main caregivers for children.

Am I boring you yet? Tough. Welcome to my world.

Where we still don't have equal pay. Even though it's been law for ages.

Where anti choice groups are given free reign to terrorize women outside abortion clinics.

Where governments get to decide what I do with my body and when.

Where not every company has a domestic abuse policy.

Where we're either too fat or too thin or too young or too old. Too loud or too quiet or too butch or too feminine. Or too frigid. Or too slutty. Because, and this is the important bit, patriarchy has been allowed for too long to define us.

Getting the idea? This is the world I live in. Yet I wouldn't change my gender. It forms part of what and who I am.

So that, for me, is why feminism. As to what it looks like to me...

Choice. Always choice. Wanna be hairy be hairy. Wanna be smooth, be smooth. Want an abortion, have one. Against abortion, don't have one. Wanna wear a habit, do it. Wanna walk round naked, your choice. Children? Only of you want. Ditto marriage. And career.

And for me it means speaking up and educating.

Recognize and call out sexism when you see it. Educate those around you. Bring up your kids with values that promote equality and personal bodily autonomy.

Stand up. Say no. Fight.

*sigh* sure there will be those who think you boring or aggressive. Fuck them. You do what you have to do to make YOUR little corner of the world a better place for you.

I had a new tattoo last week. "Were you born to resist or be abused?" on my forearm. A question, a note to myself and a mission statement all rolled into one.

I was born to resist. To stand up and speak out.

And that's what feminism means to me.