Ave Maria - December 2014 Round Up

Listening to the Stevie Wonder version of Ave Maria in bed and have decided that it is time.

Regular readers will know I always do a december post on here. I usually do it much earlier in the month than this but I was struggling to find a unifying theme. I have it now so here we go.

Been a hell of a year 2014. I started it hopeful that I would get out of my depression, that things would magically get better at work and that  wouldn't feel the soul crushing dragging feeling of anxiety and loss.

In February my beloved Uncle Brian died unexpectedly. Because of the appalling way bio mum was treated I ended up falling out with 2 of my cousins at a time when we should have been leaning on each other.  Amazing how they didn't really want to know him the whole time I was caring for him but as soon as they thought there was some money they were suddenly the doting bereaved children. I will never forgive them for not letting me go to his flat one last time so I could say goodbye to the man who called me the daughter he should have had, nor will I forgive them for treating his sister so callously at her time of deep loss.

I miss you every day Uncle Brian. I miss your laugh and your silly sayings and your support and passion. But you know what? When you died I had no doubt about how you felt about me and I know you knew how much I loved you and that is a gift. Also, I am back speaking to Mum. We're taking it slowly but we are getting there. And I am even closer to Ian and Kelly now. I think you would be proud of me. I love you.

In March I accepted voluntary redundancy. My health was suffering due to bullying by management and by certain members of PCS. I had truly had enough. I had low energy, I was anxious and tired all the time, I couldn't stop crying and could barely leave the flat.

It was a massive decision to make but by then the bullying in PCS had got so bad that I was actively looking forward to leaving. It saps your energy when you are being bullied. So much so that you get paranoid about where the next attack is coming from. You stop trusting people. You feel really isolated. All because I refused to be anyone's puppet and tried to make things better for my members.

In May I attended my last PCS conference. I was on the Group SOC and we were told more than once that it was the best conference for years. We worked hard to give the branches the conference they wanted and we withstood the battering and bullying from certain factions of the GEC and stuck to our guns because dammit, it was IMPORTANT to us to make sure that PCS was actually member led. My health was still quite bad but at NDC I argued and won for a policy supporting sex workers, argued and won a policy supporting abortion rights in Northern Ireland and argued and won reaffirmation of affiliation to Abortion Rights.

Then I went off sick.

And that was when it started to get better. I took my wife and daughter person to Glastonbury. I had a couple of wobbles while I was there but I got to see Dolly Parton mutha truckas! Watching the daughter person start to come out of themselves was amazing and so was seeing Skrillex, Massive Attack and my new faves Dub Pistols. I missed Metallica as I was sobbing in my tent having a panic attack but you can't win them all.

Tolpuddle Martyrs Festival was awesome. I got Owen Jones drunk, had a picture of me, him, MJ and a polar bear nicked by the dick splash Guido Fawkes and got to have a walkie talkie. Also did the martyrs walk for the first time. I love Tolpuddle, it is really hard work but it recharges the old trade union batteries like nothing else does. And I bumped into the main bully from my branch who tried to talk to me.

I told him to fuck off.

Which was nice.

I also left my job of 11 years.

I thought there would be a magical ending of the depression when I finally left. Took me months to recover properly.

Going to Reading where I finally saw the World's Sexiest Ginger (Josh Homme) helped somewhat.

September I started my new job. I love it. I am doing trade union organising full time now and I am doing it with full support of a manager and colleagues. Amazing what I can get done when I am not being bullied!

What else have I been up to?  I went zombie walking, reclaiming the night, to a feminist comedy night and to the Dum Tee Dum Awards where I won caller of the year! People like to take the piss out of me for my love of The Archers but sod them, I love it and when (if) I grow up I want to be Lillian. I am already there with the love of gin and ciggies and a dirty cackle, but I do manage to do my own knitting.

December is now. And how am I coping? Much better. I am still not completely right. I still have my wobbles and I have a hole in my heart where my two sons should be (long story, another time perhaps) but for once I am really really enjoying it. I am far more comfortable in my own skin and far more confident in my abilities. And I got a fuck tonne of really great tattoos.

So what is the unifying theme?

Love and family.

There have been some truly dreadful happenings this year. Reeva Steenkamp not really getting anything that felt like justice. Boko Haram stealing women with seeming impunity. Palestinian children being murdered by Israel. Dude bros going on killing sprees because they didn't get their dicks wet.

We have more people using food banks than ever before. We have disabled people dying and the Tories not giving a shit. Peshawar.

So much darkness in the world. It threatens to drown me and then...

I have The Lovely. I have The Wife Lady. I have the daughter person. I have my cousin and his fiancee. I have me Mam. I have The Bear. I have Ada and the Mahanga.The Clangers, Lovely Tina, Comrade, Torty, Abbi. I have friends and colleagues who care about me. I have love. I have support.

As previously mentioned I have a fuck tonne of really cool tattoos!

This year has been getting better and better. I may not ever be out of the depression woods but I am learning to live with it because I have people who love me not in spite of it but because of it.

Do I miss my old job? No. I am sad that the public have nowhere to get face to face advice on tax but I don't miss being a civil servant. Those people deserve any payrise they get as they are trampled on, undervalued and discarded without a thought by an uncaring government who wants to try to convince you that they are the ones that should pay for the economy being in the shit.

Do I miss PCS? No. It is imploding and is not the union I joined all those years ago. I implore those who are left to fight hard to keep it going and to stop the fucking infighting and hubris that means it is on the brink of destruction.

You are better than this. You can be better than this.

Stop it now.

Do I hate my depression? No.

It's a part of me. I have learned to accept that.

I love you all. I am not even exaggerating when I say I could not do any of this without you. You are my strength, my heart, my passion and my all.

Thank you for my life.

Have a great rest of december and may 2015 be better for all of us.

Deeva xxx

On Being Triggered (cw for ptsd symptoms)

Triggered. Its a word we are hearing a lot more of these days.

There are people who have adopted it to mean upset.

I wish you would stop.

To encourage you in this I thought I would describe what happens when I am triggered.

Be careful, this may well be triggering.

My chest hurts. I don't mean it aches, it physically HURTS. It feels like someone is thumping me in the chest with a medicine ball repeatedly.

I can't breathe. I mean, I know I am breathing but I can't feel it. It feels like I am simultaneously heavy and floating. And that hurts too.

I go deaf. I am detached from my sense of hearing as I detach from myself. All I can hear is the voice in my head that is telling me I'm going to die, I'm going to be killed.

I get flashbacks. Scenes of my trauma replay themselves in glorious technicolour. Sometimes with added smellovision and Entity style injuries.

And I live it again and again and again and again...

I become immobile. I get to a safer place (bed, a corner etc) and then I am physically unable to move. I am convinced that if I try I will die or be killed.

I cry. Rivers of silent tears.

I go numb. I shut down.

I sweat. Stinky, adrenaline ridden, fight or flight sweat.

The inside of my head screams.

I die. Or at least I think I do. Usually I've just passed out.

When I come to, then I lie there praying for sleep just so I can escape the flashbacks even though I don't believe in god and I know I will have nightmares.

I have PTSD. There are many like me and we're only now speaking out and sharing our stories.

If you're upset that is still valid. Just PLEASE don't invalidate us by saying you are triggered just because you were upset.

On Not Hating My Brain

---

Been chatting to my daughter person about ableism this morning and it has made me think about something.

This is purely personal as everyone has a different experience of mental illness.

What if I am not right to sometimes hate my brain?

Even more of a mind blowing thought.

What if my brain doesn't actually hate me?

What if my PTSD isn't my brain trying to fuck me over but it trying to protect me?

Maybe, all this time, I've been looking at it from the wrong perspective. Maybe when I am severely triggered and absolutely convinced that if I leave my bed I will die or be killed this isn't my brain trying to not let me have nice things. Maybe it is telling me to stop and try and process. Trying to keep me safe. To borrow an analogy from @graygender it is like a bodyguard shouting "GET DOWN MR PRESIDENT!" when it senses danger.

Maybe the Black Dog is not stalking me, but guarding me as much as it can to make sure that I remove myself from unhealthy situations and just, you know, stop. Just for a while.

Seems to me that my brain could be doing a better job to be honest. It gets it wrong a LOT. It cripples me just when I am about to do new things or am feeling happy and trusting.

But maybe, just maybe it isn't doing so out of maliciousness.

Maybe, just maybe, it is doing so out of some misguided attempt to keep me safe.

I don't have any answers for this yet but it is probably something I will revisit on here while I try to work it out. For me.

On Not Grieving For My Daughter

This one is for you @graygender. Thank you for giving me permission to write and publish it.

I have a daughter person who is non binary. Their pronoun is they.

I thought I had a daughter. When they were born they presented as female, they continued to present as female and to be honest with you, if you didn't know they were non binary you would continue to think they were female.

But they are not.

And, not that they need my validation for it, that is fine.

I thought I gave birth to a daughter. Turns out I was wrong. It happens, I am not omnipotent and I make mistakes.

The one mistake I didn't make though was to grieve for the daughter I lost.

I see my friends come out as Trans* and hear stories about how their parents are devastated. They mourn and grieve for their loss of a son, loss of a daughter. They weep and wail at the grandchildren they think they will never have, the weddings that they will never be able to plan, the dress they will never buy.

(Completely ignoring that none of that is true. It might just not be in the way you invisaged.)

It makes me really, really sad for them.

If only they would realise that they never lost a son. They never had a son.

If only they would realise that they never lost a daughter. They never had one.

If only they would stop treating their children like possessions just because they raised them.

If only they would spend the energy they use on rending their clothes and covering the mirrors rejoicing that this person they raised was raised with enough confidence to say 'No, actually, this is not my gender.'

If only they could see that by their coming out they are being honoured as parents.

Once upon a time I thought I had a little girl. Gorgeous and beautiful and funny and clever and loving and amazing.

Now I know I have a non binary daughter person. Guess what? They are still gorgeous and beautiful and funny and clever and loving and amazing.

And brave. And stronger than they think. And I am honoured to be their mother.

I do not grieve for my long lost daughter. I can't. She never existed. It is energy wasted. And I would rather spend the energy getting to know the person they always were.

So, I say this to the to parents of Trans* people everywhere.

When you grieve for what you have lost you invalidate your child. You devalue them. You tell them that they are not good enough. You tell them that what they could bring in terms of weddings and grandchildren means more to you than they do.

Society will already tell them that they are freaks and not normal and different. You should be the place that reassures them that they are the wonderful human beings that they always were.

Don't make a half assed attempt at using their pronouns. Getting it right isn't even a fraction as difficult as the dysphoria they will feel when you misgender them.

If they choose a new name, then honour it. Saying you will always think of them as their birth name denies their agency and they will already get enough of that.

Don't out them without asking permission. As interesting as your child is, as proud of them as you are IT IS NOT YOUR STORY TO TELL. They will tell it in their own way and in their own time. Or not. Their choice.

If your child is a trans woman, please don't try to make her conform to your idea of womanhood. She will have her own and she should be allowed to explore that.

If your child is a trans man please don't expect him to suddenly be into football if he wasn't before.

If your child is non binary then welcome to the club. You might not be able to work out exactly what gender if any they see themselves as. You know what, you don't have to. As long as they are happy and comfortable then your job is just to accept and support.

It is as easy as that.

And anyone pretending it is hard, anyone grieving for the child they lost is missing both out on a lot and the fucking point.

On Reclaiming The Night

Last night myself and my daughter person @graygender went to the Reclaim The Night march in Bristol.

I had been on pro choice marches, anti fash marches, the lovely A to B ones that the TUC kindly arrange. I have been to Burston School, Tolpuddle and save the NHS marches. You would think I could call myself a veteran.

I wasn't ready for this.

Having made our placards, we headed into town. Grace wrapped up as if ready for an Arctic winter and me hobbling on my broken toe. We grabbed burritos and were still the first ones there apart from the marshals.

So we sat. Waiting for the others to arrive. Waiting for the chance to get together with other women who are sick of the slut shaming. Sick of the victim blaming. Sick of not feeling like we can walk the streets safely at night.

And arrive they did. Women, men, families. Dad's wanting to let their daughters know that they stood by them and their right to autonomy and safety.

And in the middle of all these people. A sad looking woman with a black eye. Wandering round looking confused and bemused and like she felt slightly out of place.

I didn't take a picture of her because sometimes dignity and privacy trumps an iconic photo.

I watched her for most of the night. This woman with a visible reminder of violence. Most of us have hidden our scars and you wouldn't know we were survivors unless we told you. And here, in the midst of us was a woman with a black eye.

I am not sure I have the words to describe how I felt looking at her. The memories of my own black eyes and broken bones assailed me but I felt supported by my sisters and they wouldn't drown me. More on this woman later.

We started off the event with a minutes silence round some candles to remember the women who have been killed by male violence. Didn't realise it was going to be so emotional.

Grace and I cried all the way through it. Then all the way through the poem that was read by an amazing woman about how she was finding a new pride in being able to live and laugh again.

Then Grace turned to me and whispered 'they're all here.'

And they were. We felt them. All the women that could have been us. The ones who didn't survive. The ones who shouldn't have died.

We felt them.

And we marched for them.

We shouted for them.

We honoured them.

We stopped the traffic. We carried our placards high and proud. We blew whistles. We basked in the glow of sisterhood.

I heard very young women crying because it was the first march they had ever been on and it was the first time they had felt proud to be women.

I saw old women on the pavement applaud us in tears and shout 'THANK YOU' as we went past.

I heard an 11 year old girl scream 'I HAVE A BRAIN AND YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SEXUALISE ME!' defiantly into the night.

And I was proud. I was proud of every single woman who was there. I was proud of who I was. I was proud to see a transgender flag with us. I was proud to see most of the men who marched with us do so from the back, recognising that this was a moment for women to scream and shout and demand an end to catcalling, to blaming us for our own rapes because we dare to go outside after dark, an end to killing us because they can, because we will be reduced to someone's wife, girlfriend, mother, daughter.

So what of the woman with the black eye.

I caught sight of her again during the march. She was crying and she was smiling. She was walking with her head held high. She was alive.

Who knows what she went home to that night. Who knows how long her very visible euphoria lasted.

I don't. I only know that in that moment she looked free. And that made the marching on a broken toe worth it.

There was a rally and after party, but we didn't stay for that. PTSD being what it is, we can't all always stay for that kind of thing. Too loud, too busy.

It looked like fun though.

So we took our placards and went home. Where we ended up having a conversation about victim blaming on the bus with a woman who said 'I agree with what you just said, but...'

This happens a LOT. People who say they agree then go right on to say something really victim blaming like women shouldn't get drunk if they don't want to get raped.

*sigh*

Also in this category of truly unhelpful are those who try and derail with the what about teh menz argument.

Yes, men sometimes get catcalled too. Does it make it ok? No. Does it give men free reign to do it? No. Are men in danger of their lives if they don't respond or do respond? No.

This is a world where we have Julien Blanc telling men how to choke women into sex. Am I going to die in a ditch over a woman shouting nice arse at a man. No.

So, despite the men who wouldn't go to the back of the march, despite the twitter trolls who tried to start a row on the #reclaimthenight hashtag, despite everything, for that night it was ours. We reclaimed it. We felt safe with our sisters.

Tonight, tomorrow and all the other nights?

Well we still have work to do. Much work.

But we are up to the job, and we will win.

Solidarity sisters

Deeva xxx

Queer Emergency- In Support Of Allison Woolbert

This plea came from a very good friend of mine who is genderqueer.

"queer internet i need your help there is an emergency

cathy brennan and many terfs have google-bombed allison woolbert, friend of mine, who runs the transgender violence tracking portal.https://www.facebook.com/TransMSVTracker

cathy making her out to be a heterosexual male who sexually assaults people, and cathy is a lawyer who is extremely powerful. this is fucking terrifying and i never thought that terfs would try to destroy something incredible here in south jersey.

so this is where allison and i need your help, seriously. if you can, write three paragraphs about this project, and mention allison's full name once, and then her first name twice, and put it somewhere on the internet. i'm putting mine on my main tumblr.

this is terrifying and i want to do everything in my power to stop this. cathy brennan is a dangerous person and needs to be stopped, and she's made the decision to attack trans women in the place where i've lived my entire life."

This is unacceptable and not the first time she has done this.

Allison Woolbert is a woman doing some great work and I totally support her and all trans women in their right to a harassment free existence.

Please share so that the hate is not the first thing seen when her name is googled. Put it on your own blogs. 

All women, regardless of their gender assignment at birth are my sisters.

Come on sisters, let's help this sister out. 

On Cultural Appropriation - An Ongoing Conversation

This is a conversation that has been ongoing with my daughter person for over a year now and I still haven't totally got my head around it.

If this post is a bit rambling then that would be why. Also, these are my views. I don't claim to speak for PoC, Woc, hell, I don't speak for anyone but me. You may not agree with me, hell, I don't agree with myself sometimes but please, if you have to disagree, just don't be a dick about it.

It is all I ask.

So, what is cultural appropriation?

This has become a problematic question in itself really. When is wearing a bindi acceptable? Should I be allowed to wear flip flops/dreadlocks/chinese tattoos/black face/yellow face/sari/chi pao/native American headdress?

Can I twerk without being racist?

I am not going to say yes or no to any of these things. I am just going to give my opinion and hope that it leads to the conversation carrying on.

TWERKING.

Do I find white women twerking inherently racist? No, I don't. No more than I find black women dancing ballet racist. Do I think it is culturally insensitive? Not sure. However, I do find myself thinking the following.

When I dance, when my sisters (both familial and not) dance we do what has become known as twerking. (Thank you so much white folks, what comes naturally to us was crying out for a name *rolls eyes*) I have only ever thought of it as dancing. It is the dancing I do because I cannot do any other kind of dance when I hear the beat and riddim to mek me wine up me waist and grine up me hips.

It is instinctual, it is tribal it is just what I do.

Now compare that to Miley Cyrus wiggling her behind at a bloke singing 'I know you want it.' It becomes not about feeling the music, but about a peacock display of sexuality designed to attract a man.

Am I overly comfortable about what this says about the hyper sexualisation of black women and how they are viewed by white people? No. Am I gonna lose sleep over a bit of twerking. Also no. Despite being told I should by a white woman.

She told me twerking was racist. I told her I didn't think it was and asked her for her reasoning. Her answer was, I shit you not, 'well, I went on Google and there were a bunch of black people saying it was.'

Hate to break it to you but lumping people of colour in all together as one homogeneous lump and expecting us to all think and feel the same about anything... Bit racist. Just saying.

TATTOOS

Gonna admit now that I have two Chinese tattoos. One says 'Lucky' and the other says 'Vow'. I know this to be the case as I properly checked them. I am not someone who has the character for 'Woman' and who sees this reproduced atop the door of all the female toilets when they go to China.

I had them done as my first two tattoos (I now have had ten) and they are personal to me. Why did I get them in Chinese? I hate to admit it but I thought it looked more exotic than if I had them done in English. Yep, I was that dickhead.

Did it make me think that I was now Chinese and as one with the people? No. I wasn't and still am not (hopefully) that much of a dickhead. I am kinda amused at myself now that I have grown up a bit and would not have a different language inked on me again.

Was it appropriative? Yes. I think it was.

Not sure whether to believe me? Picture this photo below as an actual tattoo on a Chinese person.

 Now imagine they are showing it off to all their friends. Oh how wise and trendy they must look. 'But what does it mean?' ask their dewy eyed friends.

'It means to keep breathing as the water rises all around you.'

Get my point now?

CHI PAO

Do not get me wrong, I do not see this as serious as say, having worn a chi pao (which I do wear because they are one of the very few dresses that suit me) and doing yourself up in yellow face *cough* Katy Perry *cough*. And while I am at it actually, why oh why is it that we are rightly up in arms about anyone in black face (there is a bloke who tried to get served on Bar Boulevard at Glasto who will NEVER do it again) but we don't as a society really talk about the fetishising of Asian women?

Black and white minstrel show? Barbaric. The Mikado? Traditional.

Fuck off.

We have appropriated the Chi Pao so much that most of you won't even know what I am talking about until I say Suzy Wong dress.

If you are going to wear one (and I have no intention of giving them up) at least refer to them by their proper name. Don't be a dick about it.

BINDIS

I like them. I think they are beautiful and spiritually they work like a wand when I wear one on my brow chakra. I like how women look when they are wearing them. Actually this is kind of my sticking point on the whole subject. Can I wear one without disrespecting the culture they come from? I bloody hope so as I do love them.

NATIVE AMERICAN HEADDRESSES

Just no. I am deeply offended when I see anyone who isn't Native American wearing one. There is no reason to ever wear something that was symbolic of being a warrior at one with nature. No reason at all. Every time I see someone wearing one I want to punch the fucking shit out of them for trivialising the oppression and near destruction of a people. I am glad that Glasto have banned them for next year. I would expect them to do the same to people who were wearing a yellow star of David or slave manacles and garb as 'fancy dress' too.

CORN ROWS/DREADLOCKS

On the very rare occasions I have cornrows I feel the fingers of all the women down the ages on my dad's side of the family doing my hair. It is a powerful thing for me as I have very little that links me to them other than the family curry recipe handed to me by my Aunt Veronica. I don't have a problem with something this intricate and beautiful being fashionable, but for the love of all that is both holy and unholy, IF YOU ONLY USE WHITE MODELS THEN THIS IS NOT BLOODY OK. OK?

Then I have a problem. Then it is appropriation. It is stealing something and ignoring its nappy haired heritage.

Oh, and white people with dreadlocks...

If you MUST have them then at least do them properly. Do not have that stinking, matted clump of weetabix looking shit on the back of your head and think you are at one with Ja. It irritates me. Do them properly and for fuck's sake keep them clean. Especially if you use public transport.

So much more I could talk about but like I said, this is the start of the conversation, not the end and I am actually really keen to hear your thoughts.

Just, much like cultural appropriation, don't be a dick about it.

On The Violence Inherent In Rape...

Have been asleep most of the day as I have finally succumbed to the inevitable consequence of standing on a picket line in the pouring rain for four hours on monday.

Managed to have a conversation on Facebook about rape in between sleeps though.

I saw this quote "Rape is about violence, not sex. If someone hit you with a spade you wouldn't call it gardening".

I don't know who originally said it, I would attribute it if I did, but after all the Judy Finnegan crap spouting this week about how Ched Evans should be allowed to play football because his rape wasn't violent it struck a chord with me.

Now, what I wasn't prepared for was the reaction it would get from someone I knew to be a survivor. My Bio Mum.

She was responding to this from a very good and very intelligent male friend of mine.

" I remember a conversation many years ago with a criminologist. Her view was that less than 10% of rapes were sexually motivated - the real motivation is power, it is all about subjugating the woman; the sexual act is the weapon, not the end."

Her reply stunned me.

" Her views are probably from a text book. Most men, fortunately have a built in mechanism that stops them from crossing the line, however sex is the motivator to rape and is coupled with a desire to use dominant force to get it over physically weaker women, in most cases. That is my opinion about the issue of rape."

From a survivor, this struck me as horrific. From a survivor that I learned to think from it struck me as really sad.

So, this post is for my Bio Mum and all the other women of a certain age who were brought up to think that sex is a thing that a man does to a woman rather than a loving (or sometimes not, sometimes just for the fun of it) thing that happens between adults of consenting age who are enthusiastically consenting.


Her views would have been from controlled research. I'll be blunt. If rape was about sex it would actually make things easier for me as a feminist and a survivor. I really don't want to go into your personal stuff mum, I know you are a survivor too but your story isn't mine to tell.

I will say though that domestic rape, which is the most prevalent type, not stranger rape, though only an idiot would suggest that it doesn't happen, is rarely about the sex. It happens when a person (am being very careful not to gender here) wants sex, yes, but look at the background. If the other partner hasn't wanted sex for a while then there is likely to be a reason for that.

Rape in a domestic situation is not a thing that happens in isolation. There is typically a background of abuse and control. When the abusive partner sees control waning, then rape is an easy way to get that back.


But what about the prerequisite horn needed? Well, that will be borne of a desire to see the other partner subjugated and controlled. Plus, when we think about what causes a hardon in men, that can happen from being warm on a bus.

From my personal perspective the sex wasn't even all that great for them. One of them could only finally cum if he hit me in the face at the same time. And he was always angry afterwards that it wasn't very good. His penis was at best only ever at half mast. He wasn't horny, he was angry at me for being me and this was his way of punishing me for getting out of his control, however momentarily.

So, it doesn't require the abusive partner to be horny, and I will be frank, if anyone is that horny they can go and have a wank. Consent is a cultural construct rather than an inbuilt mechanism that is somehow missing or broken in a rapist.

To think that somehow we are all saved from being constantly raped because of something inbuilt abrogates responsibility from the rapist and puts it firmly on the shoulders of the raped. Short skirt, drunk, leading him on, being outside, looking so damn sexy all the time... You have all heard the victim blaming shit I am talking about and this adds to it.

Which is disgusting.

The point I was originally making is that all rape is violence. There is no hierarchy of good/bad violent/not violent as every single time it takes a part if you and kills it dead.

You never get back that part that thinks that it wouldn't happen. It is a constant possibility with EVERY person you meet and that makes the violence never go away...

Besides the fact that women are not actually weaker (patriarchy tells us we are and we act accordingly) talking about the why of rape takes away from the fact that rape is in and of itself a violent act.

In all rape, even in those very rare occasions where it is about sex, there is the weight of entitlement that tells rapists that they have the right to take what they want, regardless of consent because they are entitled to it. And that, my friends, is violence in itself. When we derail the conversation to talk about the why, we leave the victims behind and make it about the rapist. And you know what? Society already leaves the victim behind. And that in itself is also violent.

Then another one of my friends piped up. I love this friend dearly. She is one of my favourite people in the world and also a survivor.

"But surely, we need to look at the 'why' so we can try and find a way to prevent it happening? I agree totally that rape is about power and violence but understanding why that violence occurs surely means we, as a society not as individuals, can work to prevent it? Or have I missed the point?"

To which I reply with the following.

Kinda.... but not entirely. We know the why. Entitlement, patriarchy, rape culture etc. We need to be focussing, I think, on busting the myths and teaching informed consent. We need to be teaching our women that the only person responsible for their rapes is the rapist and we need to be teaching our men that not only does no mean no, but that only an enthusiastic yes means yes.

We need to teach women that being catcalled in the street is not a compliment. We need to teach men not to treat women as objects.

We need to teach women and men about coercion, control and abuse and how to tackle it. we need to recognise that whereas it is Not All Men who rape, it is Yes All Women who are in danger of it.

We need to tell men that they are not entitled to women. That the Friendzone should not be a thing they retreat to and get narky about because they didn't get their dick wet.

Another quote comes to mind and I will end with it.

 "Men are afraid women will laugh at them. Women are afraid men will kill them."

Margaret Attwood.

On Self Loathing Dressed Up As Empowerment

So This fucking monstrosity happened.

A woman who runs a dating website for Cougars to meet Cubs has come up with a potion to improve your old, rotten, loose and wrinkly vagina.

Apparently she now has the vagina of a 25 year old!

This is a good thing because younger men like things nice and tight and wrinkle free and young looking and, you know, TIDY down there. It makes things all better for them.

Get the fuck out of my face.

For a start, genitals are not supposed to be fucking tidy. They are just there, doing their thing, being genitals. And honestly, any one thinking that a vagina is untidy who is in possession of a penis needs to fuck all the way off. They are not the tidiest of things either are they. That is because they are not supposed to be. And yet patriarchal standards of beauty has women spending millions every year on plucking and waking and shaving their vaginas in an orgy of self loathing dressed up as empowerment.

Wrinkle free? Do fuck off. What is this obsession with smooth vaginas? Really, if you want your partner's vagina to look like it belongs on a 12 year old then you have some long hard questions to ask yourself. Really.

Tight. Where to start? Interestingly enough the article suggests that doing pelvic floor exercises at the same time as using this self loathing gunk.  Maybe, MAYBE it is the exercises that would increase tightness and not the muck you are shoving up your vagina, which, by the way, shouldn't have stuff put up it. The vagina is a wonderful thing that takes care of its own moisture and if hormones mean it is drying out a bit then visit a doctor. Don't be shoving bloody egg whites and honey up there.

It's shit. I might make money out of telling women that wearing a hat while doing pelvic floor exercises makes their vaginas tighter. (Hint. It wouldn't be because of the bloody hat.)

But this isn't even what saddens me the most. I am saddened by the fact that women in their 40's think that they have nothing to offer a younger man apart from a nice vagina. Not their experience, not their life view, not their humour, maturity, knowledge. None of that. Just a vagina. That I have sisters that think that a vagina is the only reason someone would want them saddens me beyond belief.

That this bloody woman and her vagina snake oil is selling self loathing as empowerment makes me angry.

Your vagina is not all you have to offer. And regardless of your age or how many children you have had, your vagina is just fine. In fact it wonderful and gorgeous and perfect just the way it is.

Take your egg whites and make a meringue. Poor some honey on it and enjoy. Your vagina will thank you.

On The Paedophile Hunter

Been poorly most of the week which is a bit shit if I'm honest. Nearly went into work today, managed to get dressed before I started throwing up, so I am back in bed and musing on a programme I saw On Channel 4 last night.

The Paedophile Hunter.

Basically, Stinson Hunter (cool bloody name btw, was destined to either be a crime fighter or a rapper with a name like that) sets up fake profiles of young girls on the internet and waits for men to try to groom them. He then, after many (disgusting) conversations, arranges to meet the men. When they turn up they are greeted by Stinson and his crew and filmed. All evidence is passed to the police.

Then they put the film, info and links to the conversations on the internet.

So far, so good. So I thought. Then I gave it a bit more thought.

For background:

Any readers of this blog know that I am a survivor of many types of abuse. Physical, emotional and sexual. Regular readers know about who abused me, and how I have handled it over the years. But they don't know about the time it was the police.

I was 14 and walking home in the rain. A car pulled up and a man told me to get in and he would give me a lift home. I said no and kept walking. All those Stranger Danger talks at school had obviously sunk in. He kept following me up the road at a walking pace telling me to get in. I'd get wet, he said. He wouldn't hurt me, he said. My mum would want to make sure I was home safe, he said.

This carried on for the whole mile I walked home. I hid in someone's garden at some point. He waited and continued to follow me when I emerged. Don't be silly, he said. He got out and took my arm and tried to pull me into the car. At that point I screamed and ran. He still followed me till he saw me go through my own front door.

When I got in I told my mum what had happened and we rang the police. I gave them a complete description of the car, the man, the incident and the number plate.

They didn't even come round. They rang back and told me that they had been to his house and asked him and he said he had been at home all day. And they believed him. BECAUSE HE WAS A MAGISTRATE.

Would I have wanted Stinson and his team to take him out? You bet your ass I would. Do I still, 30 years later wonder if he ever managed to get a girl in his car? Yep. Still happens now and then.

So do I have a problem with Stinson Hunter getting these disgusting creatures exposed and off the street? No. I do not.

Do I wish it were the police instead? You betcha. I have a problem with vigilantes you see. I have a problem with mob mentality and the kind of sensationalism that leads to paediatricians being driven out of their homes. I have a problem with Stinson linking to the chats that he had with these men. I have a problem because even though there were no real girls involved, and I understand that sensationalising it has the desired crowd funding effect, there is something that feels sordid about being able to read what this scum wrote to what they believed to be girls as young as 11.

Do I have any sympathy with the idea that exposing these men might drive them to suicide? No. That may be a failing in me but I cannot muster up any sympathy for a dead Paedophile. Not any. I can muster up plenty for their victims. You know, those girls and boys who end up self harming, broken and suicidal themselves, but not an ounce for the perpetrators. I'm sure there is some human tragedy in their stories somewhere but I can't find it in myself to give a shit.

Do I think they should be killed? No. I am against the death penalty for many reasons. The main one being that I truly believe that when we condone state sanctioned murder we lose our own humanity, but I also think that you believe in human rights or you don't. If you take them away from one sub set of people, how long is it before they come after yours? You don't have to like it, but I do have to abide by my principles.

So there you have it. Well done Channel 4 for a thought provoking documentary and thank you Stinson for getting some of this scum off the streets.

But please stop linking to the actual chats. It isn't necessary and it feels, well, kinda paedy.

On Catching My Breath

Well. What a summer that was! So much stuff to tell you. Good, bad, indifferent. Been a while since I blogged so gonna treat this like a bit of a catch up. Which to be honest it is for me too. Sometimes I need to catch my breath and reflect or I become overwhelmed with it all. This is me just trying to be whelmed.

So, where to start?

I got a new job. My dream job and I love it. I love not being micro managed. I love not having to split my time between Union Organising and a day job. Organising is my day job and I am being treated like a grown up by my colleagues and my manager. Things at home are even better as I am fulfilled at work and feel like I actually have something to say in the evenings rather than "well, I managed to put some washing on."

Been a bit of a trip getting here to be honest. After a job where the bullying was so rife that one of the managers is under investigation for falsifying documents about me in an attempt to strip me of my redundancy payment by sacking me, this feels good. Bit of a culture shock that I will have to get used to , but good.

Was weird when I left the old job. I was so mentally poorly and I had built up my LAST DAY as a thing that would fix all ills. I thought that once I was free that it would all be magically better. It still
took a good couple of months of wobbles and a couple of times not being able to physically move before I started to get back to me. One of those wobbles was at Glastonbury and I missed seeing Metallica because of it. Fuck you brain. That was mean.

Things have got better though. Just took time. I got a couple of tattoos and met The lovely's parents. I took my bestie away to York for the night and went on a ghost walk where I played the part of a menacingly shimmying nun. Was supposed to be shimmering, but the shimmying got more laughs. I do a great shimmy.

Not so great stuff was Reeva's killer being found not guilty of murder. Yes, I know all about the law and stuff but it just doesn't feel like justice you know?

Being at a point where I am not out at work again. I really hadn't realised how important this was to me till I changed jobs. So, new colleagues reading this, I am bisexual. If you want to know more then find my post on Three Little Words.

Other not so great stuff was my stupid brain trying to sabotage me now that I am really really happy. Had a dream that I had dreamed the past three years of my life and was still with the abusive ex. Even having a poo didn't help. My brain was like 'of course you would dream you poo. How else would we convince you it was real.'. Well fuck you brain, my life is real, it is wonderful and I do deserve it.

Other good stuff, learning to crochet. It is messy and difficult and the cushion cover I am currently working on is going to look JUST AWFUL but it is mine. And I am sure I will get better with practice.

Other good stuff. Learning to be more honest with my friends. Actually going out and doing stuff. Laughing. Crying. Cuddling. Turkish and Bricktop.

I'm still the angry feminist you all know, I even have "this is what a feminist looks like" tattooed on my foot (so it is the last thing misogynists see before I kick them in the face) and I am going to be ranting angry on here much more I expect, but you know what? I am more at peace with myself than I have been for a while.

If this doesn't scare you, you haven't been paying attention.

'Real' Women Quite Like Quiche

Just got back from Tolpuddle Martyrs Festival.

I am broken, recharged and excited about the future of trade unionism all in one go.

If you haven't been, you really should.  I had a great time. I saw bands I had never heard of, went to a great presentation on social media at the O Zone and survived The Great Thunderstorms. I met up with comrades I hadn't seen for a year, met new ones that I had only ever talked to on Twitter and got the coaches loaded and unloaded smoothly and with dancing and singing with the marchers.

And the Young Feminist session entered it's second year. So proud of the women who are working hard to bring the concept to the heart of Trade Unionism. SO PROUD.

But this is only peripherally a post on Tolpuddle. What I really wanted to talk about was the concept of 'Real Women' and who perpetuates the myth that they actually exist.

Real Women have thigh gaps is the latest thing I have heard. I have also read that Real Women have curves. Oh, Real Women are skinny too. Real Women don't diet and Real Women look after their men. Shit, Real Women do/don't do ironing. Real Women do/don't act like one of the boys. Real Women have it all! Real Women don't sleep around. Real Women have active sex lives. Real Women cook. Real Women....

FOR FUCK'S SAKE CAN WE JUST STOP WITH THIS SHIT RIGHT NOW!

There is no such thing as a Real Woman. There are just women. We are wonderful and flawed and come in all shapes and sizes. We have different views and different dreams.

And saying 'Real Women do X Y and Z' while holding that up as an example of solidarity is not only misleading, but sisters, it plays right into the hands of the patriarchal system of our oppression that LIKES to see us divided and playing women off against each other.

While we are fighting amongst ourselves we are not fighting oppression. We are calling each other sluts and judging each other on our choices, our body shapes and our clothing. We are buying into the idea that if we didn't wear heels/short skirts/get drunk/go out of the house/be so sexy all the damn time that we wouldn't get raped. We are using language that vilifies our sisters while patriarchy laughs at us and carries on as normal.

We do ourselves harm when we talk about Real Women.

So how about we change the conversation. How about this as a starting point.

Women are individual autonomous beings with their own hopes and dreams.

There. That wasn't so difficult was it?

Let's expand on this. Women are individual autonomous beings with their own hopes and dreams. We come in all shapes and sizes. Some of us were assigned the wrong gender at birth. Some of us have active sex lives. Some of us aren't bothered. Some of us go to work. Some of us don't. Some of us have children. Some of us don't want them. Some of us wear make up, some of us don't. Some of us are happy or sad, gay or straight or bi, fat, skinny, smooth, hairy, shallow, deep, kind, mean, money driven, poor.

There are no Real Women, just Women.

So when I am told I am ugly inside and out with a stupid hair cut because I expressed an opinion that Israel should stop killing children it doesn't bother me because a) I really don't give a fuck what you think of me as I do my hair for me, not you and b) bless you for thinking that that will stop me expressing my opinion.

And when a certain photograph of me with a bear goes viral and someone remarks sarcastically that I am a looker then fuck you too. I am not bothered.

You see I am a woman who denies the concept of Real Women and I don't need you to validate me thank you very much.

I am a woman. All of us who identify as women are women. And we don't need to be Real. We just need to stand together and be us.

Solidarity sisters!

Deeva xxx

On Choosing Trans* Inclusivity

Been thinking a lot about Trans* issues today.

First there was my post earlier on Leaving The House.

Then I read a blog which equated trans* women to middle class white boys with long hair.

Then I came across the #howtospotaCISperson hashtag.

I went through this thought process.

1. But I don't do that!
2. I'm a CIS person and would never dream of doing that.
3. NOT ALL CIS PEOPLE!!! 

Then I thought about it some more. I got over myself. And I thought that not all cis people sounded an AWFUL lot like Not All Men. And about how my stock answers to that are as follows.

1. If you are too busy being defensive rather than looking at what the problems are, you are probably part of the problem.
2. If you don't recognise yourself in what we are saying then we are not talking about you specifically.
3. Yes, I know not all men. But literally yes all women.

So this got me thinking that a reply to Not All Cis People should be literally all trans* people.

I like to think I am a good trans* ally and that I try and educate those who want to have a proper debate about what it means to be trans*.

I chose the side of trans* inclusivity long ago. I have never been shy of saying all women, regardless of gender assignment at birth are my sisters.

But I have decided that in every family there are members you just cannot talk to, just cannot educate and just cannot change.

So please do me a favour, if you are Trans* Exclusionary then please block me on Twitter, defreind me on Facebook and don't bother commenting on this post.

You hurt me when you treat trans women as chicks with dicks and I can no longer put up with it. I owe myself, my conscience and my trans* brothers and sisters (and daughter person) more than that.

And if you find yourself unable to assess someone's gender when you are out on the street and it confuses you then follow these three easy steps.

1. Get over yourself.
2. Don't worry about it.
3. Go about your day.

On What Happens When You Leave The House

Was scrolling through my facebook the other day and came across this from the awesome @BethanyBlack and it got me thinking.

"I write crappy joke, some arse hole goes "Oh no she/he didn't!" I explain why that's really not appropriate, he goes "I thought you could take a joke!" I explain that's not a joke, just bigoted abuse. He apologises, but adds a caveat blaming me for talking about the abuse I receive for being trans in my stand-up. I explain I'm highlighting the abuse I get and that doesn't give him the right to abuse me. He goes "Jeez, Touchy subject!"

I block him. I tell the rest of twitter about this. They react like this must be the only time I get stuff like this happening. I realise I've dealt with it every day for the last 14 years.

Sometimes it's such a daily part of your life you let the small stuff go and it's only when the big stuff happens, the violence, the assault both physical and sexual, the times when there's groups of people shouting stuff. You become so inured to it that it's "just part of what happens when you leave the house."

It made me sad, but like I say, it got me thinking. I have a very close family member who comes under the trans* umbrella but they don't get any grief for it in public as no one who doesn't know them doesn't know they identify as non binary.

But this is not a post about 'passing' or not (makes me feel sick even to type that if I'm honest) it is a post about what happens when you leave the house.

I have been suffering lately, not so much with feminist burnout, but with feminist overwhelming. There is so much to do, and it seems that every time we are finally getting somewhere that another atrocity happens. Two girls in India get raped and hung. A so called 'nice guy' shoots up some people because he didn't get his dick wet. Rape as a war crime is presented as not paying attention to the important stuff.

Worldwide my sisters are being assaulted, raped, murdered just for being who they are. I will continue to fight to make things better for them, but one thing we shouldn't forget is that it isn't just the incidents that make the news we need to care about, it is what happens to every woman, every time she leaves the house.

She get harassed in the street.

This weekend it was by a god botherer who got a look at my pentagram tattoo and decided I was worth extra allelujah points or something. I was wearing headphones and carrying shopping in both hands and STILL this wasn't a fuck off enough vibe for him. I tried to be polite and just say no thank you but the shit followed me down the road shouting about how he had to save me for Jesus. He even tried to 'lay hands' on me and had I not done a full on Matrix style swerve he would have touched me without my consent and would have been meeting Jesus a lot earlier than he planned.

But the bit that really got me is that this incident was at a busy shopping centre on a saturday afternoon and people just laughed and walked past me though I was obviously upset enough to use a gendered insult. It was just expected that this street harassment (loosely disguised as religion) is what we should expect when a woman leaves the house.

(as an aside, how fucked up is it that I feel bad because when he said 'Jesus loves you!' I replied with 'yeah but he thinks you're a cunt'. Seriously. I feel bad for using a gendered insult whereas I would bet my last pound that he gives not a flying fuck about harassing me.)

And now.

The World Cup is on and there are England flags EVERYWHERE. It's pissing me off to be honest as I no longer know which pubs are safe for me to go in as a Woman of Colour (WoC).

Usually flags flying out of pub windows is a way for me to know which pubs might just be EDL friendly and I can avoid them. Yes, every time I leave the house I risk assess which pubs might be safe by using flags. And I shouldn't have to do that. So, watching the match in the pub becomes impossible to me as I can never truly be comfortable.

I'll be glad when the whole thing is over.

Other things that happen when I leave the house:

I get men shouting 'BIG TITS' as if I have neither mirrors nor self awareness.

I go into hyper vigilant mode and cannot relax just walking down the street.

I end up calling someone out for being sexist/homophobic/racist/transphobic.

I wonder if this is the day I won't make it home coz some asshole who is made of entitlement thinks that today will be a good day to kill some bitches coz he didn't get laid. Or if I will be beaten because I am a WoC. Or if someone I call out will slap me down for being an uppity woman. Or if I will be raped and hung, because it is coming. In a country where we have laws against forced marriage and 'honour' killings but no one seems to be prosecuted, it is coming.

I am exhausted by it. It wears you down, but you can't let it win. I will continue to fight for myself and my sisters, and for the avoidance of doubt I mean EVERY woman, regardless of gender assignment at birth. I can't not fight because then I become scared.

Become beaten.

Become afraid to leave the house.

Fuck Off With Your Friendzone

Dear men* who would like to fuck me,

I know I am beautiful and strong and funny and intelligent and political and a dork and all of that stuff that makes me attractive.

And I know that not being a prick about all of those things make you want me more.

I know that you want to get in my pants. 

I know all of the above because you tell me. I have been hearing it since I was 14 years old. There is nothing new you can add.

However, I don't want to fuck you. I want friends of all genders and I want them to see me as a person first and a vagina and a pair of tits second.

I don't want someone who will pretend to be my friend to get into my knickers.

So, I'll break it to you like this.

It isn't me, it's you. 

It isn't that I have a boyfriend, though this is true.

It isn't that I am in a committed relationship though this is true also.

It isn't that if you were taller/shorter/more buff/had better hair that I would change my mind.

It isn't that I am a stuck up cunt.

It isn't that I am frigid.

It isn't that I am a lesbian.

It isn't that I don't appreciate nice guys.

You know what? You are not a nice guy.

You think that I owe you. 

You think I owe you sex because you have invested the time in getting to know me. 

You think that I owe you my time and my vagina because you have taken the time to get to know me and make me trust you.

And when I don't want to have sex with you, you say I have put you in the friendzone.

The friendzone, where all the nice guys languish because women just don't appreciate them. The friendzone where you have to watch us with other, brutish men and you just don't get it. The friendzone which is your booby prize, second place.

Well, it isn't me, it's you.

It's you with your outdated idea that you should have access to a woman's body just because you have been nice to her.

It's you with your sense of entitlement.

It's you with your nice guys finish last mantra and your sulks that friendship is all you are getting out of me.

It isn't me, it's you.

If you think that my friendship is the second prize you get coz I don't want to jump on your dick, then you will find yourself in the fuck off zone.

*women chat me up too but not one of them have ever sulked because I said no.

On Being Put Back In Our Place #YesAllWomen

I have just heard about the shooting in Santa Barbara and am writing this while dreadfully upset so apologies if it comes out a bit disjointed.

A man has killed seven women and injured seven more in 'retribution' for women not sleeping with him. He said he would 'slaughter' them and he did.

UPDATE: IT NOW EMERGES THAT HE HAS KILLED SIX. THREE MEN AND THREE WOMEN. THIS IS STILL MALE VIOLENCE PERPETRATED BECAUSE OF MISOGYNY AND HATRED FOR WOMEN.

Slaughter them. Like women are animals.

Nice guy.

Now, I know I should have a bit of perspective on this because this is at the end of the scale of male violence but fuck it, I feel unsafe again.

See, what happens is that we get into the habit of shouting back at street harassers. We shout back and we feel good. We feel empowered and we feel a bit safer.

We have a zero tolerance policy on sexism and harassment in our workplaces and we start to feel like we are making a difference. And it feels good.

We feel the strength of our sisters with us as we join arms and SHOUT THE FUCK BACK!!!

For a short time it feels like we are winning.

We get lulled into a false sense of security.

We forget that we have to fucking well risk assess going to the shop for milk.

We forget that at any time one of the men we shout back at could well turn nasty.

We forget our place.

And now we have been reminded. This 'nice guy' has reminded us that if we put them in the 'friend zone' we do so at our own risk.

We lose that sense of security. We will be extra vigilant. We will check what our nice guy friends are saying as we lose trust. Shroedingers rapist will become a thing again as we wonder if we will ever be safe.

And that is what they want sisters. They want us to know our place, to kowtow to them and allow ourselves to be owned by them, ruled by them, treated as if we are animals by them.

It'll be ok if we just fuck them when they want to be fucked.

NOT ON MY WATCH!

This has to remind us that we have to keep fighting. When our sisters get gunned down because a man didn't get his dick wet we owe it to them and to ourselves to keep shouting back. To keep asserting our autonomy, to keep wanting to be safe.

It may well be not all men who commit violence against women but it is all women who fear violence from men.

And it has to stop now. So I won't stop shouting back.

RIP sisters. I'm sorry this happened to you.

On Climbing Out Of The Conference Bubble For Good

Was my last time being a delegate to National PCS conference this week. I'm taking a voluntary exit and will no longer be eligible to be a member.

Been going to conference every year since 2006 and I have always loved it.

I started as an observer then went back as a trainee delegate. I went every year after that as a full delegate and always got up to speak. I was at home there. It was where I got shit done.

My twitter bio says conference geek for a very good reason.

The debate was balanced and fascinating. The President always let all the points get heard and she still does. Janice tolerates no shit and even if the speaker is talking absolute bollocks she will make sure they get to finish.

She may roll her eyes and pull a face but everyone gets their say.

We've debated some great stuff over the years and we have done so democratically.

I am proud of that. Very proud to be a member of a union that has annual elections, annual conferences and where everyone gets a say.

It isn't perfect I know. Fuck do I know. I haven't drunk the PCS Kool-Aid. I know there are things that could be better and I have tried my hardest to make them so.

Yesterday I spoke on the Scottish Branches' decision to have a 'PCS informs, you decide' neutral stance on the Scottish referendum.

I nearly slipped on the way to the podium on all the red herrings being thrown about.

HINT: wearing a t-shirt with ENGLAND across the front and spouting rhetoric that wouldn't be out of place at an EDL meeting is not the best way to make your point about rabid nationalism.

My contribution seems to have gone down well with the Scottish delegations and I have been offered a visa if they go independent. Free education, free prescriptions and no UKIP? You bet I'm on the way!

Today I seconded a motion in the affiliations section. I am eternally grateful to the SOC for moving this up the agenda so I could finally, after six years of trying, get PCS policy on extending the right to abortion to women in Northern Ireland.

There was a counter motion asking us to disaffiliate from Abortion Rights and predictably 3 men got up to speak to that.

Conference was not having it and we now have policy. I went outside and had a little weep while having my post speech ciggy. It had been a long old haul but finally we had done it.

It is one of my proudest moments.

I'll be greetin' agin in a mo. (if I'm going to go to Scotland I'd best learn the language)

So what were my other highlights and lowlights of National PCS Conference?

(will be dealing with Group separately and all the shit that went on there)

Definite highlight was the Unite debate.

There were three motions.

One was to go into talks without conditions, let the NEC bring an offer back to a special conference to see if we thought it could be put to the membership in a ballot.

The second one was pretty much the same only with a fuck ton of conditions that would have to be agreed before the NEC could even think of bringing it to us.

Third one basically said 'fuck it, walk away'.

Just about every argument and counter argument was had and I am STILL none the wiser as to why we should merge.

Is it because we're skint? Apparently not. We've pulled ourselves out of our black hole. Ok then.

Its because it would make us a great union who would be able to take strike action together!!!

But, said the opposition, we can do that at any time. We don't have to merge to do that. If we merged with everyone we ever took action with we would be a SUPER UNION WITH WINGS OF STEEL AND ELEVENTY BILLION MILLION GAZILLION MEMBERS!!

Give me a break.

DON'T YOU TRUST US???? the NEC wailed, and this seemed to be the entirety of their argument.

Seems that no, actually, conference didn't and their motion fell (after clearly being defeated in a show of hands and the chair calling a card vote which confirmed that) while the middle motion was carried.

Carry on talking with a fuck tonne of conditions it is then.

Other highlights include Francesca Martinez making me laugh so hard at killing babies with a fork (you had to be there) I spat vodka over me dad's back and Jeremy Hardy making a joke about how we should go to bed as we had to debate about gassing badgers in the morning and all of us pointing out that we had already debated that and him cracking up with loud, genuine laughter.

Getting to know some people better was also fabulously cool as was being able to catch up with my family for dinner (though I'm not sure Jake Wilde will ever recover from my mum chatting him up) seeing people I hadn't seen for a year and getting to spend time with my Mahanga.

Lowlights were the above mentioned speech by the wanker in the England shirt and running out of time so my motions on Nigerian schoolgirls and sex workers weren't heard.

I might put those speeches up on here at some point. The one on Nigeria was a doozy!

So how do I feel now, sitting on my train home knackered and wanting The Lovely, Doodlebug, Turkish, Bricktop and my own bed?

I feel good.

Better than that I feel complete.

I looked round the hall and saw the trainees I had taught over the years all go up to the podium to debate and speak with an eloquence that made me cry with pride.

I listened to people talk and swap ideas and talk about organising and class and intersectionality and campaigning and was proud of my input in that.

I saw faces determined not to let my going stop them taking these ideas forward.

How do I feel?

Like I have left a legacy to be proud of and that is all any of us can ask. Well, that and that you put my motions back in for debate next year.

Ta ra PCS.

Its been emotional.

On Why PCS MUST Not Be Neutral On The Right To Choose

It's back. It is bloody back. The motion that made my blood boil enough for me to write about it here in 2011 is back.

This time it is A78 but it is nearly identical in text and again wants PCS to disaffiliate from Abortion Rights and go to a position of neutrality on the subject of a woman's right to choose.

Oh hell no.

Not on my watch!

I wrote before about why I was against this. Briefly:

• I am not very good at being patronised. This motion pats me on the head and says 'don't worry dear, we're not going to pressure you to be anti abortion just to have no opinion on it at all'. NOPE.

• Disaffiliation to Abortion Rights would deny Equality, Choice and support to those who need help. 

• Any call for a return to neutrality is an invidious thing that may well be the thin end of a slippery slope. Want to discuss a domestic abuse policy? Sorry, bit to close to interfering with deeply held beliefs on women being chattel. Want to debate paternity leave for familial adopters? Equal marriage? Sorry, would love to but there are a few people who have deeply held beliefs about it. So we can't.

• Despite of all the hard work being done by PCS to have a union beauracracy that it more representative of its membership, most of the delegations will be men.I WILL not let a group of men decide for me whether or not my Trade Union will have a neutral stance on what is essentially a women's issue.

I REFUSE to let men decide on what is a women's issue.

I REFUSE to be fobbed off with a position of neutrality.

You know what neutrality means in practice?

Neutrality means that when someone asks me what my union thinks about a fundamental freedom I would have to say "nothing". It's a cop out designed to silence all of us engaging on a crucial topic and worse  taking us back 50 years where women who have abortions are silenced so bringing about a sense of shame which is wholly unwarranted. (not being sarcastic here).*

Neutrality means I cannot go and spend my saturday shouting at anti choicers in the name of my union.

Neutrality means abandoning women. It is not conducive to any trade union I want to say I belong to.

Neutrality means abandoning women. Worth saying that twice I think.

Neutrality means that the motion A92 calling for equal abortion rights in Northern Ireland will fall.

Neutrality means abandoning women. I don't think we can say that enough.



*Credit to M. Bosman for that paragraph. Sometimes someone just sums it up better than you could.

On What Constitutes A False Rape Allegation

This is a serious question.

You would think it would be a simple answer too.

A false rape allegation is when someone vexatiously accuses someone of rape when they haven't done anything.

But is it that simple? I don't think so.

Every time a high profile person is cleared through the courts we (by which I mean the media and the popular narrative) make the assumption that the rape never happened.

Yes, the accused has been cleared.

Yes, we have a legal system that deals with this.

However, just because someone is cleared, it doesn't mean the accusation was false to begin with.

Evidence is the key to any case. With this goes a (rightful) reluctance to brand someone a rapist unless you are really REALLY sure.

So when someone is in the dock and someone else is in the witness box and it is one word against another what happens?

He gets found not guilty as a woman sobbing and shaking isn't seen as evidence. (come on girls, we all know that we can turn the taps on at will and all could have been professional actresses right?)

Then.

Patriarchy turns on her and calls her a liar. She is responsible for ruining a life. She is the reason we need to protect the accused.

This on top of pulling her apart on the stand. Questioning what she wore, how much she had to drink. What kind of sex she likes even.

After all that we turn on her.

And we pat him on the back for not being a rapist.

And we talk about how false accusations make it harder to get rape convictions.

Get out of my face.

I tweeted a link to a fabulous article earlier (sorry I can't reproduce it here, am doing this on my phone, will link to it later) in response to Dan Hodges flagrant bullshittery. I would recommend you give that a read too.

I leave you with this thought though.

Just because he was cleared, does that mean it didn't happen and that the accusation was false?

#Ibelieveher

PCS GEC Election Special Part 2 - Who I Didn't Vote For And Why

The other day I wrote this on who I did vote for in my group GEC elections. It was quite well received by people as an insight into who people are outside of the election addresses.

I was asked if there was anyone I absolutely WOULDN'T have voted for and why. Well, now you come to mention it there were and this post is in response to that question.

Have to say that if you don't appear in either of these posts then it may well be that I either don't know you or have no strong feelings about you either way.

Lorna Merry:

Yes, Tax Justice is a Good Thing, but it was UK Uncut who brought it to the big stage.
Yes, casualisation of the workforce is a Bad Thing, but crowing about securing FTA contracts while substantive staff are up the road is not going to endear yourself to me.
That 'extra' £900m for collecting revenue came out of the cuts that they were already making.

There is no strategy in those hustings just a need for a strategic approach. Whatever that is.

Besides, I don't think someone who fillibusters a domestic abuse policy while in the chair at the GEC will make a very good president.

Clive Bryant:

Known locally as the Dark Lord, this svengali is master of the long speech that says nothing. Likes to berate branches for not engaging with their members and yet when announcements of office closures and the like happen in his own there is nary a rep to be seen to support his. Not that he would know where his are as the density in Worthing has always been appalling. And he can't ask his chair as they still don't have one.

He had to have PMR taken away from the HR team and what has he done with it? Messed it up completely. Possibly why there is little mention of it in his hustings (hidden away in the middle of bullet points) despite being the lead negotiator on it.

And ask yourselves this. How many ESS briefings have you seen this year? I count zero.

He urges us to elect the strongest possible team. I would suggest that this wunder team should not include him. That would not be at all 'elpful.

Ravi Kurup:

I never vote for scabs. End of.

Gordon Rowntree:

Half of his hustings are telling us what we already know. Then we get onto what he would do if re elected. ALL OF WHICH IS TRADE UNIONISM 101.

But wait, what is this? He would insist that members are balloted on major changes that affect them.

WELL SHIT IN A BAG AND PUNCH IT!

Beside the point that MEMBERS are supposed to tell the GEC when they want a ballot, not the other way round, conference voted for one on the hated and disgusting, morale sucking, job stealing PMR system last May.

We still haven't had it.

And there is a raft of other conference instructions that have been ignored. You just wait till we get to the organising section of conference this year for the whole list.

A strong and determined leadership is all well and good Gordon, but it is the members who should be determining the direction, not you.

Maybe you should actually talk to them rather than decide you know what is best for them.

Martin Page:

Doesn't seem to think not delivering ballot papers to a whole floor is a problem.

John Smith:

To be fair to John he has done some good work and does work hard and always in the best interest of his members.

But I don't trust him. And I have reason not to. Unlike the Elder Statesman he was part of the cadre that told me to go away, read the fucking paper again and do the right thing. Then tried to stop me using my right of tendency when I really couldn't vote the same way as caucus.

He was the straw that finally broke the dragon's back and that was the day I resigned from Left Unity.

Everyone else in the booklet was either an 'I nearly voted for them' or an 'I couldn't care less about them.'

I will reiterate. I am not telling you who to vote for. I think that is undemocratic and like I said here, I had enough of that when I was in a faction. But for fuck's sake vote!

Or you will get the GEC that everyone who actually bothered to do so votes for.

You are the union. You have a duty to chose who represents you.

Good luck.

PCS GEC Election Special - On Who I Am Voting For And Why

It's silly season again. By which I mean that PCS is having it's annual love fest they call elections.

Do not get me wrong, I am a great believer in democracy. I am passionate about it. I vote in everything I am eligible to vote in. I have done since I was old enough to vote.

However, this doesn't mean that I don't recognise the game playing at this time for what it is.

I used to be amused by it. These days I am dismayed by it. And yes, I recognise that by blogging I am part of that but sometimes you know, you just have to speak out.

Before I get going, I should point out that I am not a member of any faction, despite the rumours, nor am I standing for election this year as I am on my way out on a voluntary exit.

It is no secret that I have had a falling out with some of the Group Executive. Believe me when I say that this is not an act of revenge, but an act of honesty about what I think of the candidates.

This is not anything to do with any other group either just my own. I don't know enough about the other groups and wouldn't want to be dishonest.

So, who did I vote for?

President: 

Jake Wilde.

Hang on to your hats people, there is a very VERY good reason for this.

When I was negotiating the domestic abuse policy the team asked for five minutes to get it through the GEC. It was a no brainer and we had been working on it for a very long time. The VP at the time fillibustered so that we had no time to debate it. Not even the five minutes it would take. This, after being told in caucus that it was just an unimportant HR paper.

Jake saved the day on it. He came up with a solution that meant that PCS had endorsed the policy before the department published it.

For that, and for not dismissing women's concerns over domestic abuse he gets my vote.

DGS:

Gerry Noble

Let me say that this isn't an anti Margi vote, far from it. Margi has been a great DGS and has had to put up with a lot of shit and non co operation from certain AGSs just because she broke away from their faction.

Gerry gets my vote for two reasons.

1. I have known her since we were trainee delegates together back in Hove Town Hall and I have always loved her passion and committment.

2. This blogpost. Gerry sets out what she would do differently and that is refreshing and honest. I like refreshing and honest and I think our members will too.

Treasurer:

Jeanette Brooke.

You know why? She is a fucking brilliant treasurer. She has brought down spending members money year on year since 2009 and while I am not sure the belt can be tightened any more, I want to see her try and give it a go.

Assistant Group Secretaries:

Tim Coxon.

A few years back Left Unity did something really shitty to Tim. They (we, I was part of it then) used voting strength to get him shunted off a portfolio he was doing really well on to replace him with someone else. The grounds were spurious to say the least. I am not proud of that, I have always felt a bit dirty about it and I have always regretted it.

Tim took it as well as expected but didn't actually kick off. He showed then, and continues to show more integrity than anyone else did that day. He grafts hard, has the members' interests at the forefront of his mind and I would vote for him a hundred times if allowed.

John Davidson:

There are many who think that all he is interested in is Scottish Independence. Those people are wrong. John is a good man. He is committed and hard working and even when I left he still showed loyalty and integrity. He threatened bodily damage to my ex if he came near me last year and I will always have a lot of time for him.

Hamish Drummond:

Another great activist, Hamish is not only committed to his role but I have personally seen him defend members' interests above his own. Hamish has a big heart and will always do his best. Always. He talked me into standing for the GEC all those years ago and his loyalty means will always have mine.

Mark Leopard:

Mark is passionate about everything he does and has been amazing in his equalities work. I have worked closely with him for 5 years and he never ever lets either me, the equalities committees or the members down, even to the detriment of his own health. Another grafter and one I am proud to know and to have worked with.

Helen McFarlane:

Helen is nothing if not consistent. Consistently working hard for the membership. One of the things that makes Helen worth voting for is that she will not be told how to think. She is her own woman and if she thinks something is not in the best of members' interests she will fight against it, no matter how much pressure is put on her to do otherwise.

Gerry Noble:

Same reason that I voted for her for DGS. And you know what, the GEC needs Gerry. If she doesn't get that position she should be on the GEC somewhere!

Margi Rathbone:

I have a lot of time for Margi. She works hard and hasn't deserved the bullying she has faced since leaving Left Unity. She was a good AGS and would be again.

Karen Taylor:

Outspoken and passionate about everything she does Karen has had PMR taken off her HR portfolio by subterfuge and force and look how well that campaign is going! /sarcasm ends

Karen is another one who will not be told how to think and she works bloody hard for members. Domestic abuse policy? Karen's team. All the worst excesses that disappear from policy before you see it? Karen's team. Seriously, you should see what they start out with. And all that in an atmosphere of hostility and bullying from other GEC members.

GEC

Graham Allport:

New to the GEC last year he is always available to his members and he answers emails. With an answer, not just a fob off. He again is passionate and committed and works far harder than he should. With very little support from the AGS.

Ciaran Battle:

Ciaran has come up through the young members' network and I have always been really impressed with him. He is just what the GEC needs. Too long has it been dominated by the old guard. He is honest to a fault and committed. I want to see him in a position to change things.

Tim Coxon:

See above.

Carol Gerrard:

Carol was never, ever in danger of not getting a vote from me. Whatever she was standing for I would vote for her because she is that good. She is a proper socialist. One who ALWAYS puts members' interests first. Those votes that have members so angry over conference policy being ignored? Not Carol. She has more integrity in the tip of her little finger than most have in their whole bodies and didn't vote to sell members out.

Lorna Kennedy:

Love the bones of this woman. She is a grafter who is passionate about equalities and also has her own mind. That is reason enough for me to vote for her.

Helen McFarlane:

See above.

Helen Meldrum:

Helen is a star. She is passionate about the issues that affect members and she takes no crap from anyone. She is a free thinker who has the integrity to stand up for hers and members' beliefs. Another one who is a lover of democracy. She will be an absolute asset to the GEC.

Gerry Noble:

See above.

Marianne Owens:

Marianne has taken a lot of shit over the past couple of years but you know what, I trust her. I trust her to work hard and to stand up for workers. Marianne has been a mentor to me and has always been fair and honest. Also not to blame for the PMR debacle.

Steve Ryan:

Yes he is volatile sometimes, yes he can go right over the top but he has the courage of his convictions. There is no side to Steve, you get what you see, and I have seen him raging at caucus because members have been sold out. That he is no longer part of Left Unity should tell you all you need to know about his integrity.

Karen Taylor:

See above.

Jake Wilde:

See above.

Paul Tillyer:

Great bloke, insightful and hard working. Always had a lot of time for him and always will.

Phil Dickens:

For no other reason than to piss him off.

Margo McCabe:

Margo is actually an unsung hero as far as the GEC is concerned. She doesn't go in for plaudits, nor does she shout from the rooftop about what she does but damn, that woman works HARD. Again, she has integrity and loyalty and members' best interests at heart.

Margi Rathbone:

See above.

Rebecca Girven:

Had never heard of her before but bloody hell I liked her election statement. Give it a read, you won't regret it.

Kevin McHugh:

Kev is one of the elder statesmen of the GEC and while we didn't always agree we at least had a debate. Kev was never one of the ones who tried to tell me how to think. He didn't tell me to go away, read the fucking paper again and do the right thing with my vote. So he keeps mine.

So that is my list. I am not telling you how to vote. I think that is undemocratic and to be frank, I had enough of that when I was an LU member.

What I am saying is engage. Read the election statements. Cast your vote. Because if you don't then you will get the GEC those who bothered to do it voted for.

Next instalment, who I didn't vote for and why will be coming up shortly.

*flaps wings* *swishes tail*

This goddess is just getting warmed up.