Angela Gibbins Ate My Hamster

Note: all the way through this I am going to be referencing articles. I will not be linking to any of them. If you really do need to read hateful crap then find it yourself.

Over the past couple of days there has been a media furore surrounding one of my close friends, Angela Gibbins. Real nastiness. She has been subject to death threats and rape threats. She has had the press camped out on her doorstep, imprisoning her and questioning her neighbours. She has an online petition calling for her to be sacked. She has had hate articles written about her, one of them downright vicious. She has been misrepresented as a champagne socialist. She has had her wedding photograph stolen to 'illustrate' this as if carrying flowers and a glass of cava whilst wearing a stunning frock coat is just what she does on tuesdays.If you didn't know Angela you would not know that it was her wedding photo by the way. You would usually expect to see a big white floofy dress right? Angela doesn't do big, white and floofy. She has been called a 'dog faced feminist bitch'. There have been aspersions cast upon her looks, her personality, her reasons for not having children. She has been reported for hate crime. Fucking hate crime. For pointing out a rich white kid has privilege. If those screaming for her blood spent that energy actually fighting racism then, y'know...

Her alleged crime? That she reportedly called HRH Prince George a Fucking Dickhead on Facebook.

Well, let's get that one out of the way straight away. She didn't. The Dub Pistols shared the meme.

And so have at least a thousand other people. OK? Can we get past this crap now please? There is no need to pillory this woman for having an opinion on privilege and comparing the fate and future of George to the lack of future and the fate of another 3 year old child who wasn't lucky enough to be born into the royal family.

Angela isn't vile. She isn't a bitch, she isn't deserving of death, by hanging or otherwise, or unemployment. She is a good woman.

Let me tell you about my friend.

She is thoughtful. When I decided I wanted to learn to draw, she sent me some beautiful pencils and a lot of great advice.

She is encouraging. When a member of my family was struggling with confidence over their art, she spoke gently to them, encouraged them, praised them and helped.

She is generous. When a friend of mine was having trouble with University finances, she talked him through it and made sure an autistic man got the chance to study.

She is caring. When she gets libraries re opened she also makes sure that schools are built; when she is getting finance for buildings in the desert, she makes sure that no one suffers by insisting there is not a drop of wasted water. When you are low she sends a message saying 'All will be well.' and you believe her. Because she is Angela and she will move heaven and earth to educate, facilitate and make you feel safe.

She has been shot at three times (hit once, grazed twice) rescuing people from war zones. She doesn't pull the ladder up after herself, she makes sure that she creates opportunities for women.

But it's fun to make things up like she isn't a real person right? We could start a #AngelaMadeUpHeadlines hashtag.

Who Let The Dogs Out? We'll Tell You Who!

'I went to Glastonbury with Angela Gibbins and she stole my Pikachu.'

ANGELA GIBBINS FAKED THE MOON LANDINGS

You get the idea right? It's all fun and games and no one gets hurt.

No. It does hurt people. It hurt Angela and her brilliant husband when they had the memory of their happiest day stolen from them. It hurts her friends and family to see her being pinned down in her own home. It hurts her colleagues at the British Council because they now have to shoulder her considerable workload.

I only hope that it doesn't inspire the same kind of person who ended up killing Jo Cox.

Angela inspires me. I stand by her and restate that there really is no room for an hereditary monarchy in a democratic society.

Got your back Ang x

On Being Woke AF

Oh I'm proper pissed off today. I don't know if it is because I am over tired or because this year has been like a fucking roller coaster but today can fuck off.

This year so far has had some brilliant bits. The Lovely has started his own business, we are closer than ever, Daughter Person is going to Uni, I got a first in a uni assignment, my job fulfils me and I became an aunty again to the fightiest little girl ever. (12 weeks early, came out shouting, you can tell we're related).

Also has had some proper shit bits. Mental health took a real knock after spending less than 2 hours with Bio Mum and I got a (not entirely undeserved) bollocking at work. I'm tired, my endo is shit and I am piling on weight so not always feeling very good about myself. I am weepy a lot of the time and I despair a lot of the time and I am starting to blame one thing.

I am woke as fuck.

I sometimes wish I wasn't. I sometimes wish I could go through the world totally oblivious to the shit that goes on. I sometimes wish that I wasn't as aware of mental health issues, or race issues, or gender or disability or sexuality issues.

I sometimes wish I was the kind of woman who was happy with her lot in life and thought that All Lives Matter because we need to be equal! I sometimes wish I had no idea about privilege or intersectionality or the fact that 2-3 women are murdered by their current or ex partners a week.

Maybe I would sleep better. Maybe I wouldn't be so fucking TENSE all the time. Maybe these things wouldn't piss me off so much.

Motivational posts: Fuck off. Just fuck off. On my FB timeline RIGHT NOW is such bullshittery as HIT LIKE AND SHARE IF YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER/SON/MUM/DAD/DOG/CAT/CROCODILE OR WHATEVER THAT YOU LOVE WITH ALL YOUR HEART!

Well fuck me, I love my cat and my daughter person, I had better share the shit out of that!

Oh and articles about THE WORST EYEBROW SINS WOMEN CAN COMMIT.

Are you fucking shitting me? Do you not think that we have enough to worry about without people judging us for our fucking eyebrows now? It's like patriarchy panicked because women had started to not give a shit about armpit hair and had to have something to have a go at us about. PSA: do what the fuck you like with your eyebrows. Couldn't actually give a shit and if you are judging women for theirs you either need to get a fucking grip and/or stop buying into a patriarchal society that wants women to shame each other for capitalism.

While I am at it, people can make you feel bad without your consent. (this is the motivational post I hate the most, fucking victim blaming piece of shit that has no idea about manipulation and coercion).

Also, if you derail a conversation about violence against women to talk about men, you can fuck off an all. You are part of The Problem.

Don't want an abortion? Don't get one. Just stay the fuck out of everyone else's wombs and decisions.

Also, reverse sexism is not A Thing. Sexism is backed up by cultural oppression and capitalism and teh menz don't get that. You're confusing sexism with Fragile Masculinity. And worse, they have women doing it.

Reverse racism: See above.

And white people. Stop thinking you can say nigger. I don't care how much fucking hip hop you listen to, you don't get to say it. Not ever. Stop.

See what I mean? All of this would be easier if I never had any political awakening. I would be able to go through my life without giving any of it a second thought. But I can't.

I can't see the bloody poster for Emilia Clarke's new film without wondering why, when she is gazing directly into the eyes of her loved one FROM THE SIDE that we can still see her entire bloody cleavage!

I can't see a 'joke' saying that (and I really wish I was making this up) 'gagging is the most romantic sound you can hear because it means someone has chosen your dick over oxygen' and not lose my shit.

I can't not call out slut shaming. PSA: women can have lots of sex and still respect themselves.

STOP FUCKING JUDGING WOMEN FOR THEIR CHOICES.

I can't not call out racism, homophobia, transphobia or ableism.

STOP JUDGING PEOPLE NON STOP.

My life would be easier but I just can't.

You can't go back to sleep once you've woken. You can't be blind when the scales have fallen from your eyes.

You can never go home again.

Guest Post - On Doubt And Rust

This one is anonymous. It is also sad and beautiful and shows the damage that can linger even after the abuse has stopped. Written from the new partner's perspective, it made me cry.

Here it is.

A state of doubt and rust

I met her in a storm, immediately captivated by her smile I knew I had to talk to her. I didn’t see it at first, but you don’t do you? I think when you meet someone that you’re attracted to, you automatically display all your best parts, your smile, your sense of humour all the things we look for at the beginning. She's that mythical creature, that one person they say exists just for you. Two chemicals that mix together to form something beautiful. But at first I didn’t see it. She's gotten good at hiding it.

Those first few days and weeks are a wonder. It’s a voyage of discovery, a beautiful island in a deep blue ocean that you want to explore because it feels like home. The wonder of a stolen kiss, the brush of her hand when she passes you in the bar and you know that the two of you share a special secret. It’s the first time you’re with each other and in the haze that follows you tell your inner feelings to each other. All these things adding up and creating an overwhelming feeling that you can’t be without this person, because she wants the same future as you. Because she’s everything you ever wanted in a partner, but then you see something out of the corner of your eye. She hides it well I didn’t see it at first.

As you grow closer the conversations get deeper, the things from your past that you don’t like to tell just anyone. Little steps at first, that time you got beaten up or how you got so bullied at school that you’d automatically start to cry as those cunts walked towards you in the corridor. Then you start to hear her story and wonder what in the hell you have to be upset about. The story of his hands round her neck, the words and the degradation he inflicted. Things that left invisible scars that have formed into barriers and walls and all of a sudden you see them way too clearly.

You then see that ghost out of the corner of your eye. That something you didn’t notice until now, except now you see it everywhere. Hiding from windows in case he can see through them, because if he sees he'll try and stop you. He’ll try and pull her away again. He’s still choking her. I hold up my hands to her and hope that she doesn’t see them as a threat but that what I’m offering is my strength to help carry her, carry her away from him, out of harms way. Now I see it everywhere.

I saw it coming. Each text from him when she’d shut me out for the rest of the evening. Every time he’d turn up, supposedly at random demanding they talk about something that was already dead and gone. Yeah I saw it coming. 

We decide to cool it but stay close. The difference now is that I’m terrified of everything I say. What if that delayed text from her is because I just said something he used to use against her and now I remind her of him? And now I feel like that ghost. I want to spend time in her company but get afraid to ask, what if  I’m now putting on the pressure, exerting the control? It tears me apart, I want to find him and show him just how much pain he’s causing her. I want him to see. I want it to be my hands on his throat.

I’m not that person though, I don’t use threats or violence to get what I want, to force someone to love me, to make them feel that they are not allowed to leave. That’s not fair. It’s not right. I want somebody to love me because I give them strength, because I make them laugh. Because I make them feel safe. I try to show her those things and she starts to see them. Then the ghost appears and those few tiny steps are removed and we’re forced back several paces. This hurts. It shouldn’t feel like this but I don't know how to change it. I’m not sure if I can. 

My self doubt turns to guilt as it’s her who is supposed to be hurting. I bury the guilt as I don’t want to show her any weaknesses not now, not when she needs to see strength. The strength I am offering, the shoulder she wants in the dark, the ear she needs when the pain unfolds. I want to be the only rock that stands in her ocean where she can go and feel completely safe and free.

I know I can be that rock if she’d let me. I know I’d love her more than any other man if she’d let me. I know this might never happen and I know that if it’s over because of him that this will hurt more than anything I’ve ever known. I know I’ll always resent him and resentment is something I’ve chosen to give up. I know that his ghost still remains but don’t know how much longer I can. Is it a sign of weakness or strength if I choose to let her go?

I want her to be happy. I want her to be free. I want what is best for her. 

If I could turn back time to before it all happened and stop it I would, even with the knowledge if I did we would probably never meet.

I’ll stay for now because deep down I know that she’s worth it. The question is how long can I stay while his ghost remains?

Things That Can Fuck Off

Haven't done one of these for a while and am feeling a bit grumpy after having an asthma attack last night so here goes.

Updated list of things that can fuck off.

Motivational posts. Seriously. Fuck off. 
'No one can love you till you love yourself'... Fuck you very much. Thank you for making people who feel unloved now believe it is their fault. Like they haven't got enough to deal with for fucks sake.

'No one can make you feel bad without your consent'... Are you fucking kidding me? Four words. Manipulation, coercion, fuck and off.

'You don't need money, only your dreams...' (usually said by people with enough money to follow their dreams)...Yeah, if your dreams are to be homeless.

Here is my motivational slogan: TRY NOT TO BE A DICK

Patriarchy.

A given really. Post patriarchy (which, by the way, is when I shall be post feminist) I will have so much more leisure time as men will either believe what women say on face value, or GOOGLE THEIR OWN SHIT.

Gender norms. 

Not just talking about who puts furniture together and does the car maintenance, but workplace shit too. 

Two actual conversations I had with women yesterday.

Her: My daughter loves medicine, I think she could be a nurse.
Me: Why not a surgeon?
Her: ....

Me: The out of hours doctor will be giving you a call back.
Her: What time will he ring?
Me: THEY will ring as soon as possible.

I try, but it is an uphill battle sometimes.

The Ursula Titchnor part of the current The Archers domestic abuse storyline.
Rob is a wanker. A total, irredeemable wanker. Some of have known this since day one. Before the post coital salad, before the little miss giggly comment, waaaaaay before the low cut dress incident. We knew and we have spent the last two and a half years trying to point it out to all and sundry (menz) using such hashtags as #dietitchynobdie and #titchynobmustdie.

Then along comes his fucked up mother and comments about his childhood being a nightmare and suddenly there is a sigh of relief from said menz that there is now a woman to pin it on. Forgetting that Titchynob's dad is still in the picture and Ursula may well be conditioned over the years too, they rush to say that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I fucking know it doesn't (had to deal with my own Ursula for years) but for fucks sake, there was an editorial decision to be made here and cutting, coercive, bullying, manipulative, abusive rapist Rob Titchenor any slack at all was the wrong one.

Asthma

Fucking wanker. Breathing is essential. Fucksake.

Gypsy shit

Yeah, it is beautiful, yeah it is pretty and flowing and romantic and does nothing to represent or better the lives of the Roma people who have lived in poverty and persecution. And it would seem that Roma is the new Irish too. Seems if you want to be cool that you claim to have Roma heritage. People who actually do have Roma heritage and are sharing their stories are being erased when you do this. Stop.

Anyone, ANYONE who says 'men suffer abuse too'.

If your response to a conversation about women being abused is to derail a conversation about women being abused then actually fuck head, I don't want to hear from you. Ditto all lives matter wankers. 

Double standards on photos of women

So, if I take a sexy looking selfie then I am vain but if a man photographs me slumped lazily over a car with my mouth half open to sell a product that's fine. Right. Gotcha. Fuck off.

Tights.

Whoever invented them. Whoever designed them. Whoever decided to size them in a way that means if you have long legs they hang off you and if you get them to fit your width you spend all day hoiking them up. Seriously, fuck off. 

Prescription Charges.
I spent £16.40 so I don't die today. Though that isn't much of a price for my continued life, I cannot see for the life of me why I have to pay to breathe.

On that note, time for more steroids and inhalers.

Till next time.

On Labels - Guest Post

Another heart stoppingly good post from the author of this awesomeness on the metal community

Content warning: transphobia

“I don’t see why we need labels, we’re all human”.

We’ve all heard it before; the whining voice that seeps out like a sad fart and lingers for too long. I’d like to laugh it off as a hollow statement, but I can’t. I can’t, because I looked closer and saw the terrifying power structures this statement supports and I’m scared and angry.

Most recently, these words were said to me in the context of gender identity, so I’ll focus on that for now.

It’s not surprising that, more often than not, these words are uttered by people who’ve never needed to use labels to talk about their gender. They don’t need labels, so they don’t see why anyone else should need them either. They don’t need labels, because their gender identity is treated as default by society. They don’t need labels, because they can go their whole lives without their gender identity ever becoming a major issue. These words are said in the context of privilege.

I don’t have the privilege of never having my gender questioned. I live on the front line of cissexism. It’s a minefield, and sometimes labels are the only protection I have.

I need labels because I am trying to navigate a world that tells me I’m not real; a world that considers my existence a threat, a nuisance, an anomaly, or a joke at best.

I need labels when strangers point and laugh at me in the street.

I need labels when I hear people whisper “is it a boy or a girl?”

Or when they don’t bother to whisper.

Or when I’m scared of going clothes shopping because of the looks of disapproval I get in either department.

When people use transphobic slurs, to my face.

When people tell me my pronouns are too difficult, and that they’re going to carry on using the wrong ones, intentionally.

When people tell me what name they want to call me, based on what they think is appropriate, rather than what my name is.

When these were people I had considered “friends”.

I need labels, because they allow me to claim back my humanity. Labels help me survive the daily onslaught of transphobia, because they give me dignity. When the world tells me I’m not real, I have a label that tells me I am. When others question the validity of my identity, humiliate me or reduce me to something I’m not, I often believe them. But my labels are still there, like a rock for me to hold onto.

I need labels, because without words to describe myself, I would disappear.

Labels allow my identity to flourish. They allow me to grow into the person I was always meant to be. They empower me with a certainty and confidence that I can use to make a future for myself. They say: I know who I am, and I have a life ahead of me.

How dare you try and take that away from me.

Erica, 19. Likes: Cats, art, cycling, toilet humour. Dislikes: Cheese, underwear, trimming my toenails.

On The NUS Banning Cross Dressing Sisters

I am furious today. I am furious at this article and it is going to show in this post.

It is going to be sweary and it is going to be raw and it is going to use shocking transphobic language to make points against transphobia.

You have been warned. If you are still reading, buckle up. It is going to be a bumpy ride.

Now.

Imagine being a woman who most of the world considers 'born a man'. Or a 'chick with a dick'.

Now imagine that you have braved going out in a dress, You have taken a long time getting ready and though you are nervous, you are in an environment that is more welcoming than those times you hid at the back of the bus or took a train hours later than you could have just to miss rush hour and the inevitable stares of people who think you are a freak and are playing a barely mirth suppressed game of Guess The Gender.

This is where people come to be educated and you are starting to feel at home here. So you go out in your dress and your carefully done make up. You may pass, you may not, but for this moment you feel good and it doesn't matter.

Hold that thought. Hold that feeling of feeling as good about yourself as you get.

Got it? Good.

Now imagine a bunch of rugby players crash past you wearing lurid dresses, bad make up, worse wigs and full facial hair.

Wow are you not going to feel good about yourself. Damn, you are not going to feel safe because this is what they think you are. This is what they think you look like. They think your gender identity is a vulgar, ugly joke. They think you are a man in a dress. A chick with a dick.

And bless their stupid fucking misogynist stockings they think they are being enlightened. Not for them the fear of being called gay! They are comfortable in their sexuality (until they 'accidentally' get off with a trans woman, 'realise' then beat the shit out of her) and wearing a dress proves it.

(And in the weirdest bit of whatabouttery I have EVER seen it is rugby players that the article sticks up for. Not the women of NUS conference who are trying to include all women and non binary people. WTAF?)

Now you are hiding again. A woman that no one protects. One that is more likely to commit suicide. One that is more likely to self harm. One that doesn't want to leave the house because everyone is looking.

So, what should we do about it?

A good start is to highlight the issue and make sure that women and men are aware that their actions might hurt others to the point of causing them actual harm. To try to take steps to make sure that a man wearing a dress as a drag act is not seen as a funny thing but as art. To try to take steps to make sure that trans women are not scared. To try to take steps to make sure that University is a safe space.

And that is exactly what Women's NUS conference was doing. And rather than applaud that (either by clapping or using jazz hands, and seriously it really isn't that big a deal why they went to it, if it helped delegates feel more comfortable about being present or speaking, wave those digits!) they have been ridiculed and lambasted by their elders and 'betters' about the contents of the motions.

For fuck's sake grow up.

That they will no longer say sisters as it excludes non binary people is a good thing and goes a long way further than anyone else has done to encourage safe spaces and rather than have a go at them for it the rest of the movement, both trade union and feminists should be embarrassed about it.

'BUT THEY ARE STUDENTS, WHY ARE THEY NOT DEBATING EDUCATION STUFF?' I hear some cry.

They have shown us right up by daring to question how education is accessed. They have dared to question the status quo. They have dared to insist that all people get an equal shot at it. That EVERYONE gets to participate.

If this isn't Education 101 I don't know what is.

I keep hearing that the young people are our future. They just blew this trope out of the water and showed us that they are not waiting, that the future is now and they can't be bothered to wait for the rest of us to put it through 1000 committees before we make a decision.

They may not be able to enforce it on campus but they can sure as hell make sure that it is talked about and seen as a bad thing, It also means that they will be able to more easily challenge behaviours and language in their own and other people's meetings. PCS has policy on abortion, does this mean that they can enforce it on everyone? No. But does that mean they shouldn't have the policy? No. We know how this works. We steer the conversation by having these policies and you know this.

Good fucking on them I say. They give me hope. They are actually walking the walk.

And I will wave my jazz hands for them all day every day.

Deeva xxx

ps. If What about the rugby players is what you are using to put women down then hand in your feminist card. Really. Do it now. You fucking irrellevance.

On Consent - Guest Post

This guest post is anonymous for a reason. Enjoy is the wrong word. Read and weep. Better still, learn and teach.

On Monday the 2nd of March 2015 I was raped. I wasn’t down a dark alleyway. I wasn’t attacked. I wasn’t in any of the godawful stereotypical situations that society associates with being raped. I was celebrating a friend’s birthday at a club, I met somebody, we went back to my house. I repeatedly said that the invitation did not extend to a cosy conversation between his sexual organs and mine. When my vocalisations weren’t heard I said no. I said stop. Multiple times I said these words. I still wasn’t listened to. I lay there, staring at my ceiling (there’s a crack which I noticed and put getting it fixed on my mental to do list). Giving up my protestations, realising that it wasn’t going to stop and that no wasn’t going to be taken for an answer I waited for it to be over.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t shout. I didn’t fight. I said no and I wasn’t listened to. I was used as a vessel for his sexual gratification. A means to an end. I was the one left to deal with the consequences of his actions. I paid for emergency contraception and I will have to book an appointment for an STI check. I will do all this while he continues with his day to day life, perhaps not even recognising what he did.
I decided to write about this, not only to try and figure out my own feelings about it all but to tell people that rape, that non-consensual sexual acts, don’t always happen to people in the way television, films and the media would have you think. I haven’t cried. I haven’t shouted or screamed. I don’t even really dislike him, after all he seemed like a ‘nice’ enough guy for me to invite him back in the first place.

So I’m writing this partly as a tool to sift through my own feelings but also to demand a more open and realistic dialogue about consent and about rape culture.

After a couple of day’s reflection I’m bloody angry. I’m angry that I don’t feel comfortable taking this to the police, I’m angry that I’m sat here stewing and he probably has little recognition for what he’s even done, I’m angry that had this happened to me two years ago I wouldn’t have recognised it for what it was.

There is no right or wrong way for survivors to deal with this sort of situation. I want people who read this and who can potentially recognise that they have had a similar sexual experience to me, that they have nothing to feel guilty about. That if you didn’t really realise at the time that your voice wasn’t being listened to, that your body was being violated it’s not your fault. The blame is on the perpetrator.

The blame is on the patriarchy.

We live in a society where for centuries upon centuries men have been viewed as the gender with sexual desires that need to be sated at whatever cost. That women function as tools for their pleasure. This has changed somewhat over the last 50 years. People are actually open to discussing women’s sexuality, that women have sexual desires too, and despite some men not knowing the difference between a woman’s clitoris and her nose (jabbing is not a thing gents!), society as a whole realises that no matter your gender you can have lots of sexual desires or simply none at all.

As a society we recognise this but we don’t recognise the need for comprehensive education about consent from birth. As a society we don’t recognise that consent can be rescinded at any moment. That an invitation to my room is not an invitation into my vagina. It is these thoughts and attitudes that silence survivors, that make them even doubt what actually happened to them.

We blame the survivor. We tell them to be more careful, to not drink as much in future, to learn their lesson about bringing people they don’t know back to their house. When did it become okay to say this instead of insisting that people Do. Not. Rape. Of course, in an abstract way we all know this is wrong but a sense of entitlement makes perpetrators act differently.

We need to make sure that young boys and men know that pressuring a woman into having sex with them is not okay. That if someone says no once, they mean no. They should not have to repeat themselves. We need to make sure that young boys and men do not indulge in selective hearing. If your sexual partner says no or stop, guess what? You fucking well stop. If you then get angry because you’ve been told to stop and your pissed because you didn’t get to finish, take a step, raise your hand and slap yourself across the face hard because you’re being a douche and why would you even want to have sex with someone who doesn’t want to anyway? Your male entitlement and what you perceive as your right to sexual gratification whenever and however you want does not outweigh, my feelings, my body and my right to say no at any point.

I’ve had conversations with women where they’ve had sexual experiences that they did not want to have. That they’ve felt guilty for not providing sex and so have done it anyway. This makes me sick. It makes me sick to think that my friends have done this, that our sisters, mothers and daughters may also have done this. That they’ve felt a man’s sexual desire has outweighed their right to say no. That they have felt bad for not wanting sex but have done it anyway.

Our conversations about consent in society have to change. We have to take the focus away from survivors and onto perpetrators. We need to be teaching our children consent, be talking to our teenagers about consent, be having a dialogue with our partners. We must talk about consent in our individual spheres but we must also demand that the rhetoric about consent and rape culture changes in the media and wider society. We must be demanding that our police service does not ask a survivor what they were wearing, how much they had to drink or doubting whether they gave consent or not. We must be demanding that people, our institutions and our government believe the survivor and vow to change our culture and societal attitudes towards rape and consent.

Rape doesn’t just happen to people in the dark as an attack. Rape is the result of a society which perpetuates ideas of male entitlement. It is not necessarily a pre-meditated act. It is an act where someone decides to, quite simply, not listen.

On Pride and Patriotism

Been thinking a LOT recently. This will not be news to anyone who has read my 100 odd previous posts.

Today it has been mostly about patriotism and pride.

I just don't get it.

I am British. I was born here because my parents had sex here and my bio mum gave birth to me here.

Am I proud to be British? Erm, no.

I find it very difficult to engage in patriotism or pride in my country or whatever. Chiefly because I don't believe in borders. I know them to be a thing, this isn't like not believing in God, I just don't think we need them or should have them. I honestly think they have caused more trouble than they're worth.

With patriotism comes an over inflated idea of worth and entitlement. It leads to wanting to extend your borders and we all know what that leads to.

So, no, I am not proud to be British. All that means to me is colonialism and theft and murder. Not ever gonna be proud of those things. Ick.

I am a CIS woman.

Am I proud of that? Erm, no.

This is nothing I had any control over. When I was born I was assigned female and that feels right. It was genetics what done it M'Lud and I wouldn't change it. So my gender isn't anything to be inherently proud of unless you buy into the idea that being able to bear children makes you somehow superior which I don't. If you identify as a woman then that is good enough to me and I am not about to buy into a hierarchy of who is the 'better' woman. Patriarchy does that very well all by itself thank you, it needs no help from me. Also, babies are nice (I had three of them as it happens) but the biological equivalent of having a shit after you have eaten isn't actually anything to be proud of in itself.

Actually, if you look at it objectively then being a woman is a disadvantage. Patriarchy, pro lifers, lower wages, beauty standards, violence, fear.

Total pain in the arse in fact.

I am bisexual. Am I proud of that? Erm, no.

See above. Nothing I can control. Just my sexuality. Plus going down that road leads to things like Straight Pride and fuck that noise.

So, not proud of my gender, having given birth, the country I was born in, my sexuality.

Sounds a bit shit no?

Well no.

Because there are things that I can be proud of. Lots and lots of them. For instance:

I am proud that I fight for equality. I am proud that I am a feminist. I am proud that I take no shit.

I am proud that my children are decent human beings. I am proud that they can be who they are without worry that I will ever desert them for it.

I am proud that my no borders stance means that I will never hate someone, even in a 'jokey' way because they come from a different country to me.

I am proud of my LGBT activism. I may not be able to control my sexuality but I sure as hell can fight to make sure I and others are not killed for it.

I am proud of my creativity. My crochet and knitting. This blog.

And I am proud that I survive. That I thrive. That I am alive.

I am proud that I am able to have deep relationships and casual acquaintances. I am proud that I have come far enough to know the difference.

I am proud that I fight. For equality. For safety. Against prejudice in every form.

I am proud of me.

Hope you are proud of you too.

Deeva xxx

On How To Be A Friend Or Not - Guest Post

This is my first guest post of the year. Hopefully it won't be the last. If you want to write one for me then let me know either on Twitter @goddessdeeva or by email goddessdeeva@gmail.com

This one is from my lovely friend Tina O'Farrell. Who, I have to say is one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for.

Anyhoo. Here it is.


A phrase I hear people saying to each other quite a lot lately, and indeed I use it myself is “you know how to be a friend”.  So, what does this mean exactly?  I can only give you my take on this but hopefully it will ring true.

Since I was old enough to understand the meaning of it, I have tried to live by the motto “do as you would be done by”.  I say tried, because sometimes I have failed miserably.  For example no one wants to be dumped but this is something that all of us have to do to someone else at some time in our lives.

What does friendship actually mean?

People use the term in different ways, for example, referring to all work colleagues as friends when, in reality, if you left that company you would never see them again.  Facebook calls everyone we interact with “friends”.  They are not all friends; they are contacts or acquaintances - just people we know either personally or by the wonders of social media.

Some of those people whom we have never met, however, do behave like proper friends.  They are there when you need them, ready to lend a sympathetic ear or help if help is needed.  They will come to you for advice or ideas.

During 2014, I have lost my best friend.  The trigger for this was that I said that I didn’t want to exchange gifts any more as I simply cannot afford it.  She took such umbrage at this that she just said “not happy”, immediately restricted me on FB and has been ignoring me.  I thought she would get over it and get in touch but so far, nothing.

There must be something else to it, surely!

Yes, I could ask but do I want to?  No, and here’s why:

Other friends say that this is a good thing and I am better off out of it.

Now that I am on the outside, I can see it for what it was and that was, I am afraid, an abusive relationship.  Many others saw this a long time ago and were telling me to ditch her as a friend.  I would defend her to the hilt, even through floods of tears at times.  “But she so often hurts you and makes you cry. Dump her” is amongst advice I was given. Well, turns out I didn’t have to cos she’s now dumped me for the most ridiculous of reasons!!


“Abusive” can be true of a lot of what we consider to be close friendships.  Whilst people normally reserve this word for a partner or a parent, it is startlingly real of friendships and we allow it to happen because we just don’t see it or appreciate it for what it is.

Think about those you consider closest to you.  Are they really?  Or are they just close when it suits them?  Do they ignore your texts and messages for days on end and then suddenly, when they want a favour or when something irks them and they want someone to moan to, you are absolutely the only person that will do and they have to talk to you now, this minute! No, what are you doing – I NEED YOU NOW!!!!  Are you only ever good for listening to their problems or cheering them up when they feel low?  What about when you feel low?  Are they anywhere to be seen?  Do they drop you like a hot potato when a new love interest comes along but then want to cry on your shoulder when it all goes wrong?  Are you always the one who has to stay sober and drive when you go out?

A proper friendship should be give and take and compromise.  If it’s all give on one person’s part and all take on the other’s then that isn’t a friendship, the giver is being used and abused and the more they allow it to happen, the more it WILL happen.

Ditch the deadwood from your life.  Surround yourself with people who DO know how to be friends and are there to both take and give, in good times and bad.  And make the effort yourself to think about how you are behaving towards others, because karma can be a funny old thing…..

50 year old inhabitant of darkest Cornwall. Tried marriage twice but now a happily single, pole dancing medical secretary. 

People Who Can Fuck All The Way Off

Happy New Year everyone who marked it on 1st Jan!

For the rest of you, happy January!

One of my resolutions this year is to try to blog weekly. I'm feeling this might be the year it takes off...

I said as a (sort of) joke that I might start the year with a big list of people who can fuck off. This seemed to be popular with regular readers so here we go.

This list is neither exhaustive nor in any order. Buckle up, it's gonna get sweary and I'm putting a content warning for rape, transphobic bullshittery and general abusive fuckwittery right here.

TERRY WOGAN
Do us all a favour and fuck off. Serial scab and didn't report Jimmy Savile. And you know what, this scared thing cuts no fucking ice with me. A group of you would have an impact. Children got fucked. And you said nothing.

ESTHER RANTZEN
I truly hope you choke on your New Years Honour. Childline is an awesome, wonderful thing but you too kept quiet. Fuck off.

RICHARD DAWKINS
Your a dick.

TONY BLAIR
War criminal.

LADY GAGA
Assange apologist and professional Madonna tribute act. Fuck off.

JULIAN ASSANGE
Go to Sweden and face trial. Your hiding in a fucking embassy of all places while acting like a Lidls fucking version of the FOI Messiah makes me sick.

CHED EVANS
NOPE. Convicted rapist that refuses to believe he has done anything wrong has encouraged the doxxing of his victim so she has had to move five fucking times. And football 'fans' chant that he shags who he wants. Fuck all the way off you rapist slime. Or come round and I will kick you till my feet break.

NIGEL FARAGE
There aren't enough words to describe how I feel about you. Scaremongering, nasty, slimey, vicious piece of shit. Fuck all the way off.

CATHY BRENNAN
Dangerous nasty woman hating piece of shit. Trans women are not chicks with dicks. Fuck off. Forever.

ROB TICHENOR
Yes I know you are a fictional character. However, you are based on real life abusive, gaslighting bastards and I would happily hit you in the face with a chair until I got bored. Which would be never.

DAVID CAMERON
You and your ilk are watching people starve on your watch. You have no humanity. I'm not sure you are even human. Your welfare reforms are akin to eugenics and I will not rest until you are gone.

ED MILIBAND
It is not enough to be witty at PMQs. Pledge to reverse all cuts and then you will win a landslide. Until then it's back under your rock for you.

NICK CLEGG 
Student fees. Bedroom tax. Fuck off. Liar.

GAMER GATERS
It isn't about ethics in games journalism actually, it's about hurting and silencing women.

(and here is where I switched from my phone onto my netbook. It has totally fucked up the formatting. Apologies for that.) 

NADINE DORRIES

I fucking loathe you. You call yourself a feminist and then try and restrict access to abortion. Go fuck yourself. Or eat some kangaroo testicles or whatever. You have no business in my uterus. 

LOUISE MENSCH
I loathe you too. You are all that is wrong with white middle class feminism. And you glory in death.

WOODY ALLEN
I believe her. 

JOAN RIVERS
Yes, I know she is dead. She can still fuck off.

ADAM BLOOM
You are racist, sexist, homophobic and just not fucking funny. 

RUSSELL BRAND
When you stop calling women 'love' at the end of a sentence I might have a bit more time for you. Till then, you know the drill, fuck off.

DAPPER LAUGHS
Nope.

ANYONE WHO HAS EVER THOUGHT THAT 'JOKES' ABOUT RAPE, TRANS PEOPLE, RACE, GENDER OR SEXUALITY WERE EVER FUNNY. 
IF YOU THINK THAT WOMEN ARE BITCHES, CRAZY, HARD WORK OR HIGH MAINTENANCE. IF YOU CATCALL WOMEN. IF YOU THINK CHED EVANS DESERVES A SECOND CHANCE.
Fuck all the way off. Yep, you too. You are what I am fighting against. You make it hard for me to walk out of the door in the morning.

Fuck off. All the way off. And when you get there, come back here and fuck all the way off again. 

Wow, that was cathartic!

Will probably add more to the list as the year goes on. Until then, take care and try not to end up on my list!

         

Fuck Off Or Fuck Yeah? The December Round Up

*waves* Hello lovely people and assholes alike. Goddess knows I seem to have met you in equal measure this year.

Regular readers will know that December is a weird time for me. I went from this really miserable post to this far more hopeful post and now is the time for the round up from this year.

Has it been Fuck Off or Fuck Yeah!?

Bit of both really.

Fuck Off

Depression hit me with a vengeance this year. Like my brain went 'what, wait, WHUT... she got fucking happy while I wasn't looking? What shit is this?' and tried to totally destroy me.

Fucking asshole. I'd had an amazing year with Doodlebug moving in and feeling nothing but love for the year at home. I got all my debts sorted. Not paid, but actually put stuff in place so I can. That's what a previous marriage gets you when your ex husband didn't work or claim for 7 years apparently. Fuck loads of debt.

I digress.

Things were going so well that my shitty brain forgot to remind me what a waste of space I am. It let me go to Glastonbury and Tolpuddle and Reading and have a fucking great time and though it would sometimes remember to give me a prod now and then, (you don't deserve this remember? Ah fuck it, can't be arsed) it more or less left me alone.

Which was nice :)

Then it hit. Full pelt. Mostly because of work, but that will always impact on how I feel about myself in general. Was being attacked by all sides, day job and union 'comrades' and it got too much.

Sidebar.

When you are in a trade union you are supposed to be united against attacks on your members. There, I fucking said it.

I could not give a FLYING FUCK about what faction you are in or not. Not bothered in the slightest. You should always be working to make things better for your members.

Not a difficult concept really is it?

Yet.... There are those who spend so much time trying to undermine others because they are not in the Judean Peolples Front or the People's Front of Judea or whatfuckingever that they pay lip service at best to what they are supposed to be doing for members. You know, things like organising and campaigning and recruiting activists and shit. But no, that's fine. You spend your time trying to score political points by being snarky and lying to your members about it you useless, ridiculous waste of facility time.

Here is a clue since you seem too politically broke to buy one. There is not a single faction of any kind that is exempt from this. You want to spend your time trying to score points off each other, you go ahead. There are those of us who will just laugh at you while trying to do the best for our members, even if the obstacles you put in the way make us feel like we're banging our heads against a brick wall. You keep arguing about whether the bricks are proletariat enough. Yeah, that'll help.

Now, where was I? Oh yeah, the Fuck Off section.

What else has pissed me off?

Abortion. Still every woman's choice. Still none of your business. Still your only job is to support a woman whatever her choice is. Women will only have true freedom when they have true autonomy over their bodies and choices. This is not a difficult concept but one that I feel I have to explain over and over again. You're welcome.

Feminists. Stop fucking arguing with each other and get on with smashing patriarchy will ya? For fucks sake. There are a LOT of online feminists I have a lot of respect for, even if their views don't match mine exactly. We are a diverse lot really and there is more to being a feminist than screeching on Twitter about why you are a better feminist than me. Yeah I said it. I covered most of this here when I talked about missing the fucking point but it bears repeating.

I would rather spend my time educating people on why equality is important than arguing about whether trigger warnings are effective (not really in my view as they assume a lot about triggers. I prefer to use 'Content Warning' and let people decide for themselves what is likely to trigger them).

People who moan about christmas leftovers while other people use foodbanks. Fuck off.

People who buy into the idea of the workers v shirkers narrative. Fuck off.

Anyone who thinks that being disabled is a burden on the state, Fuck off.

Think that there will be 27m Bulgarians flooding into the UK next week? Fuck off. And do some research. The total population is far less than that for a start.

Got something to say to me? Say it. Don't hide behind passive aggressive little comments on other people's facebook. Don't lie about me. Don't (and this one was HILARIOUS) trash my musical tastes because there is fuck all else you can say about me. Yep. Fuck off.

Prefer harassing Owen Jones than coming up with a viable strategy of your own? HINT: A one day general strike is not a viable strategy. It will not win the war against austerity. It can only be part of an overall strategy. Again, you're welcome. Now fuck off.

Victim blamers, body policers, fat shamers, rape apologists. Fuck off.

STILL in an organisation that hides rapists. You can fuck off too.

Homophobes, transphobes, racists and idiots... Guess what... fuck off.

Depression. You get the biggest fuck off of them all.

Which leads me to the FUCK YEAH! section.

I finally made it to Glastonbury. I saw Public Enemy from right at the front. I made new friends, caught up with old ones, broke my toe, raised a LOT of money for PCS and had an amazing time.

And when I got home smelling 'earthy' (apparently) I was greeted with smiles and hugs and kisses rather than the cold indifference I am used to.

I finally got to go gigging with my Wife Lady. Who paid £350 to a ticket tout just so she could spend time with me at Reading Festival. Best time ever and I am now an inductee to the Church of Dubstep. It really is all about the drop and the wub, wub, wub.

I spent the year being loved, cherished, adored and trusted.

Doodlebug started college and is thriving.

The Lovely made life better for a lot of people. I am so proud of the work he and his colleagues do. And I am proud of him.

I got through the depressive episode and actually allowed myself to be a member at work. Reps are really, REALLY bad at this, so I see it as a major victory.

I decided that the ex had enjoyed enough control over me and made the decision that he would have no more. So instead of going straight for a divorce once we had been separated 2 years which he could slow down and contest, I have decided to wait so that he can't have a say in it and control me any more.

I took up knitting again and got to see the faces of those I gifted with home made scarves and hats.

I embraced the onesie!!!! You know what, I have never worn anything as comfortable and I now have three of them.

I had a LOT of therapy and finally got a proper diagnosis of Depression, Anxiety and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I always knew I had them, and fuck anyone who says you shouldn't self diagnose, I don't need a medical degree to know when I have broken my leg, but it is always nice to have it officially validated.

I got an undercut. I had wanted one for years and I finally took the plunge and did it.

I remembered that my friends love me when I am in a good mood and that they STILL love me when I am a crying mess.

Best of all, I found myself again. I remembered that I am not this awful person and that sometimes my very presence brings joy. This was a really powerful lesson to learn. It is one I am going to have to remember through the next 12 months and I may need you to remind me now and then.

In return I will tell you this.

You are not an awful person and sometimes your very presence brings joy.

Anyone who would tell you otherwise needs to fuck off.

Much love and happy new year.

Deeva xxx

On Climbing Out Of The Black Dog Hole

*big stretch*

First post in a while this. Might take me some time to get back into it. That I am being distracted by Turkish and Bricktop being ridiculously cute isn't helping but I'll live with that.

So why away so long and what to write about now I am able to put fingers to keyboard?

How about why I was away.

Been having a bit of a bad time lately. Been very low. Very depressed. Nearly constantly triggered. It hasn't been fun. I went to the docs to ask for a week of and she gave me a month. I have been a big ball of unreleased rage and as usual was turning it in on myself. Not healthy but the only way I could let the rage go without lashing out at anyone.

I have a real temper you see. It is nasty and vindictive and though not physically violent, I will cut you down to a weeping, blubbering mess with my words. I'm good at it. And when I am in the midst of it, I enjoy it. And I hate it. So I keep it all inside as I wouldn't be able to deal with hurting anyone. I would hate myself for it and the whole nasty, self destructive cycle would begin again. So, because I can no longer go to the beach and scream at the sea I internalise it.

So what had me so bad? My life is good. I have The Lovely and the amazing Doodlebug and I love my work and I am studying a subject I am passionate about. I have brilliant friends and apart from a bit of low blood pressure I am in good physical health.

Weird how your brain doesn't think like that though. Funny how it will find the smallest thing to latch onto to make you freak out and convince yourself that you are a waste of a perfectly good existence.

For me there were a few things.

A random phrase.

I see so much stuff tagged with 'trigger warning' these days. I totally understand and appreciate the effort people go to hoping I won't be triggered but they can kind of miss the point. I am, as I have previously mentioned, a survivor of some pretty horrific abuse. Yet I can read about abuse and it won't trigger me. Even if it is the same kind of abuse I suffered. I can distance myself from it and it won't affect me.

Yet. Put something like 'there will be blood up the walls' on twitter and I find myself right back at age 14 at my dad's house in Trinidad cowering in fear as he beats up his girlfriend.

A song.

Lyrics that have been fine can send me into a spiral at no notice at all. Let You Go by Chase and Status had me frozen in my bed in tears absolutely CONVINCED that if I got out of it the Big Ex was going to get me. Once I came out of it with the help of the wife and processed it, I could listen to the song again with no ill effects. Weird how that happens, but I have a feeling I know why it did.

Big Ex has moved on and got a new girlfriend. Really happy for him. Seriously, I wish him all the luck and love in the world, but it seems he is building Deeva 2.0. It's fucking creepy how similar she is to me. But I'm over it now and saving up for a divorce.

A blog.

My wonderful Doodlebug blogged about their abuse. It was the first I had heard of most of it and it floored me. I totally support their right to do it and I am glad they did, but it left me a ball of unremitting rage that had nowhere to go.

My first instinct was to grab a baseball bat and start swinging. These FUCKERS PUT THEIR HANDS ON MY BABY!!! But that would have done no one any good and Doodlebug would have been left without their prime support while their mother was in prison.

Autumn.

I hate winter. Loathe it. Winter is a thing to be survived. Winter is what I emerge from. Loathe it. It is dark and cold and vitamin D deficient. I ache for the sun on my skin and a warm breeze. Winter gives me chapped lips and wet feet and cold everything. I cannot impress upon you enough how much I loathe it.

The only thing that is worse is autumn. Autumn is the transition time from the joy of summer to the loathing of winter. I have to put the flip flops away. I wake up in the dark. I get home from work in the dark. Everything is dark, including me. So this is never a good time of year. I put the fairy lights on in my bedroom and hope for the best.

I have always survived autumn and winter, but it doesn't mean I have to like it.

So I've been trying to get myself up. To make sure I don't press the self destruct button and wreck everything again. To actually talk about how I'm feeling. The anxiety. The depression. The suicidal ideation.

And it has worked to a certain extent, but there are other things that have helped.

The Lovely. He has been patient and kind and loving and actually made me believe that I deserve
him to be all of those things. It was him reaching out to hold my hand while he slept that kept me on this mortal coil this time and I love him to pieces just for being him.

Doodlebug. They are an inspiration to me. Their strength, their compassion and their laughter.

Turkish and Bricktop. Never underestimate the power of a small, fluffy animal to make you smile.

Knitting. Yes really. Keeps my hands busy, my mind free and the blanket we are making together is growing as much as the love we are knitting into it.

Talking.

I've been talking about my mental health problems on twitter and facebook and have been astounded by the love, support and understanding I have had back.

And the encouragement when things have seemed at their darkest.

I have love. I receive love. I love.

At the end of the day it is what will keep me going.

I started the climb out of the hole that is a depressive episode, but when I looked up there were so many hands waiting to help me I couldn't help but jump up.

So that is where I have been and why.

I'm back now. Slowly getting my mojo back.

Hopefully I will be fully back on form soon and this blog will be it's usual ranty shouty place.

Until then, thank you all, every single one of you for every kind word and cyber hug. Especially those who knew I was ill before I did.

Love you all.

Deeva xxx

ANNOYINGLY BLOGGER IS NOT LETTING ME COMMENT ON MY OWN BLOG. THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO COMMENTS.

On PCS Sex Worker Policy UPDATED

Are you a PCS member?

Remember Resolution A27 from Conference? The one that asked us to consult about a sex worker policy?

You know, the one where I thundered that a worker was a worker was a worker?

Well, here is my Branch response to the 5 questions the consultation paper asked. Massive thanks to Dr Ana Lopes from UWE Bristol for her help with this.

Now that I have the full consultation paper here I am reproducing the whole repsonse document, INCLUDING all that we thought wrong with the paper in the first place.

I would be very grateful if you could get your Branches to respond too. The response needs to go to equality@pcs.org.uk by 18th October

1. Branch Response to SW policy paper.
   
   Consultation Document on A27, a response
   
   The document has been obviously had a good amount of work invested in it.  Unfortunately in an effort to not offend anyone from either side of the argument on this it patently fails to address and confront the deeper issues.  There are time and again an implied gender bias across the document that this is only a women’s issue, it applies only to those who were born a woman and not those who have transitioned from one gender to another and that any woman who chooses to be a SW can only be doing so under duress from an influencing male.  This is seen in information presented in support and opposition of the view of whether or not there should be a policy.  (capital P below means page)
   
   P5 implied gender bias, it implies with some of the language used (particularly in para 2) that it is only women (and women who are of an age to consent) that this impacts.  It also implies by omission that this is only a heterosexual issue (although later does address that sexual orientation identity and practise may not be the same, but does not expand on this or explain why men may have sex with men but identify as heterosexual etc).  It would be beneficial that in future work like this that because of an unconscious bias of many readers, that they should specifically state that SW are not limited to women, who were women at birth but that it is an issue for women, men, this who are or have transitioned gender, who are heterosexual, homosexual and any SO in between.
   Paragraph 3 on P5 coyly avoid any strong language in regard to illegal trafficking of people and that this is effectively slavery and could/should/must be viewed differently from and not confused with those who have freely consented to participate as a SW
   
   P8 you should define LGBT and not assume that everyone understands what is meant by it, even amongst PCS branches.  It is important to not confuse sexual orientation (LGB) with gender transition, change or non-binary status that may be considered by the individual to place them within the Trans community (T).  This paragraph garbles the situation.
   
   P9 ‘men enter sex work for different reasons’ from who?  ‘Come from different backgrounds’ from who?  ‘Have different life experiences’ from who?  ‘Not all male sex workers have support needs’ but all women do?  Why is there such an explicit gender bias?  Is this evidenced??
   
   P10 information presented seems to seek to confuse not inform any decision, is this actually relevant at this point?  Is there information missing to lead into and clarify this information?
   
   P11 4th question, seems to be very one sided in presentation.  What is the GMB experience of organising SW?  What are GMB Sisters experience of organising with SW?  Why is it not here?
   
   P12-14 Seems to be situation and fact and an absence of consideration that SW are people and this section feels like SW are objects not people, I’m sure that this is an unintended consequence in presenting the evidence without any emotional bias.
   
   P15 second bullet point;- ‘yet women, trans, male…’ Trans what?  Trans it vans???  Those who have undergone or are undergoing gender transition are people not objects.  This and every other use of ‘trans’ must be in future modified to acknowledge that they are people by simply saying ‘trans people’ (or in specific cases ‘trans woman’ or ‘trans man’).  It implies an unconscious bias against LGBT people that Trans and LGB SW are to be objectified and dehumanised (same at 6th bullet point).  There may be an implied unconscious bias here to demonstrate the argument against SW and that they are exploited people, but if your argument is thus, please be explicit.
   
   Now to the questions 
   
   Is sex work a trade union issue?
   
   Yes. Sex work has been hotly debated within feminism of the 1st and 2nd waves – therefore, it became seen as largely a feminist, gender issue. However, sex worker voices have changed the picture and reclaimed the labour character of their activity.
   
   Sex workers themselves have demanded union representation and membership as a basic labour right. 
   
   Sex work isn’t unique in the way that they face exploitation, violence and or abuse. There are plenty of industries that face these but already have trade union representation and protection. 
   
   There are many similarities between sex work and other work. It is work and therefore a trade union issue. This is also about equality and equality should be the cornerstone of every trade union.
   
   Health and safety being one of the other cornerstones must be relevant to sex work, especially regarding HIV/AIDS. Trade unions have an important role to play here.
   
   Should sex workers be considered as workers and have employment rights?
   
   If we accept as above that sex work is a trade union issue then yes, sex workers should be considered workers. Dismissing the whole industry as abuse is patronising and denies the lived experience of sex workers who chose to be in the industry. Situations where people are forced into commercial sexual activities should be dealt with as abuses and are already covered by law. Not making a distinction between forced and consensual sex work means that resources that should be channelled to prevent and deal with real abuses are being wasted. 
   
   Abuses faced by sex workers are the same abuses that are faced by other vulnerable workers in low status jobs in the informal economy and yet we wouldn’t question whether cleaners, bar staff etc are actually workers and ‘deserve’ employment rights. 
   
   The title is in the name. Sex workers. And workers should have employment rights.
   
   Should trade unions organise sex workers?
   
   
   Yes. In fact there are already unions that do organise these workers. GMB and Unite have sex worker branches. There is also the International Sex Workers Union (ISWU). Also unions organise already in Argentina, Germany, the Netherlands and Greece.
   
   There is a temptation to make judgement calls on the type of sex work. It isn’t all about prostitution, it includes chat lines, sauna, pornography, massage parlours, the list is endless. It could even include being an Ann Summers representative. 
   
   The temptation is to decide that certain sex work is more acceptable than other types. I have heard that we can support people working on chat lines but not those working in rape porn. This is naivety at work and a lack of understanding about separating the work from the worker. No one would say that we shouldn’t organise traffic wardens or tax officers as they recognise that while they may loathe the work they do that there are workers attached to the work and these workers need the unions. 
   
   A worker is a worker is a worker. And workers need to be unionised.
   
   
   Should PCS support the criminalisation of purchasers and/or providers of sexual services?
   
   In short, no. Criminalising purchasers (clients) would only move the problems to other areas and push sex workers to more isolated areas making them even more vulnerable. The Swedish model where they criminalised everything shows that this would be the case. Sex workers would be even harder to reach by support services. As the demand went up and the supply became less prices would rise. Sex workers would lose time to negotiate safe sex and assess the client. The police get tip offs about abuse and bad practice from purchasers and they would be far less likely to come forward with information about trafficking etc if they were further criminalised. 
   
   Criminalisation will only deter the ‘nice’ clients, not the nasty ones. This becomes a health and safety in the workplace issue as the nasty ones are less likely to use condoms and are more likely to be abusive and put sex workers in physical danger.
   The same kind of danger that seeing sex work as ‘wrong’, ‘bad’ or dirty puts sex workers in. There is a feeling that sex workers need ‘rescuing’ from their lives. Where this will be the case when sex workers are being abused, as already mentioned, those cases should be dealt with under the law on abuse (Offenses Against a Person Act 1981) and should not be informing the debate on whether or not a person who willingly undertakes sex work should be persuaded because of moral judgements not to do so. 
   
   Nor is it just austerity that ‘forces’ people into sex work. Anecdotally there are plenty who don’t go into sex work to pay the bills but to go on holiday, festivals etc. We must get away from the moral judgements and see this as work. Criminalisation will not end sex work. It is called the oldest profession for a reason and is a growing industry. 
   
   We have to protect and not demonise the workers.
   
   Should PCS develop a policy regarding the treatment by the employer of members with secondary or prior work in the sex industry?
   
   Yes. This is trade unionism 101. It should always be that we protect and support workers. Unsure as we are about whether it needs a separate policy, sex work should not be seen as bringing the department into disrepute and all other conduct and discipline policies should cover this aspect of other work.
   
   We already have policy that says that members have to get permission to do other work outside the department. Members engaged in sex work may well fall foul of this. Hence it is vital that PCS has policy on sex work and sex workers so that we may properly protect and support our members that take part in it.
   
   

Deeva by Gaslight

Here we go again. Another post. third in two days. You can tell that I am happy that my wrist is healed enough for me to write again and that I have had a lot on my mind.

This one is gonna be a whole heap of personal again. People who actually know me in real life will probably know who I am talking about, but fuck it. Silent no more.

Deep breath Deeva.

I read this today on gaslighting. It proper made me lose my breath. The author of the piece talked about the intentional gaslighting to highlight the unintentional. Powerful stuff. If you haven't yet, you should really read it.

It brought up all sorts of feelings in me. Memories became clearer and I recognised the full extent of what had happened to me. Was a real shock and I have been mulling this post since then.

Oh for fuck's sake Deeva, get on with it!

I have been gaslighted. By people who were supposed to love me. All my life it would seem, though to varying degrees. In what would seem an attempt to control me and keep me down. It bloody worked an all. For years and years. It clouded my image of myself. It clouded my judgement of who I was and it left me easier prey for others to do it too.

So, how to get it all out?

One bit at at time I suppose.

Mum. I know what you did and why. I know that you couldn't bear me to be me as I was, in your eyes, wild and uncontrollable. I know that this is why you would ignore me most of the time and talk about me like I wasn't there even when I was.

I know that you told everyone that they should feel sorry for me and watch out for me as I had no personality of my own and would leech theirs from them. I know you did this to keep me isolated and lonely because you were so scared I would speak up about the abusive shit I was going through.

I know that you hid money and when I found it and returned it that you managed to convince me that I had stolen it in the first place because you knew that I was bad at handling guilt and that I would be frozen and pliable.

When I had a baby to escape, I know that you told me that my son's grandparents had told you that they hated having me living with them because I was so lazy and useless so that you could make sure that I couldn't be comfortable anywhere and you could keep that control. I know you lied about that one because years later I actually asked them and their faces were more believable than your gaslighting.

For years after the first dissociative episode I had (remember that? Two weeks of rocking in the foetal position where you wouldn't call a doctor and you let my sister spit on me and kick me) I truly believed I had shingles. For me to convince the school that's why I was off, I had to be convinced myself.

No more. The 12 years in which we haven't spoken have been better because you weren't in them. And you never will be again.

First husband. What a dick you were. Sleeping with other men literally the whole time we were together and making me think it was all in my head. Just so I could continue being your beard. The thing you hid behind. How many rational explanations did you have for the gay porn? How many times did the phone ring and cut off when I answered?

And yet you made me think it was all in my head.

How many years did you allow your brother to bully me and spy on me before I finally got a moment of clarity?

And the fixing of the bathroom scales so that I would feel fatter than I was and not go looking elsewhere? Yeah, I know you did that too. You made it so that I had no identity outside of you. You were my only mirror and the image I saw of myself reflected in you made me feel worthless.

And you told the children that you weren't controlling it was that I had gone wild. Off the rails.

Well fuck you.

What I had done is broken out of your control. How I found the strength I don't know, but I'm glad I did. Even though you took everything from me, I survived and got stronger. Fuck you.

Big Ex. I escaped you too and am finally happy.

For years I thought I was, but your gaslighting was stealthy. It crept up on me and nearly destroyed me.

I know now that you were petrified of losing me, that you were terrified that with my ever increasing responsibilities with the union that I would outgrow you. But you know what? If you had just told me that instead of making me feel like shit, we might have got through it. There are moments now that I know were just designed to hold me back.

Like when I used a long word in front of our friends and was asked what it meant. 'That she is getting ideas above her station.' was your reply.

Like when you had me convinced that you were acting in my best interests when you told me that our friends only tolerated me because I was with you. That they thought I was boring and all I talked about was PCS. That they thought I was talking down to them.

None of this was true. But you had me convinced it was.

We weren't having sex because I had something to prove. We were having sex because I had something to prove.

I was going mental and I didn't know what I was talking about. Of course you told me about going to your mum's. Of course you did. I must have just forgotten. Or, and here is the ultimate one, I was trying to drive YOU mad by pretending that you hadn't.

Oh what a head fuck you were.

And when I finally got some help. Finally got someone who made me realise that I was intelligent and capable and NICE and convinced me to go and see a doctor as they recognised the symptoms of depression, when I FINALLY did that and got on the anti depressants that I dreaded having to take because YOU said they would change me.

Then. Up it ramped. You tried to convince me that I was a different person. That I was capable of horrible things. That the bullying I was getting at work was my fault. That the panic attacks were because of the dreadful person I was and how I couldn't face her.

You would scream at me for hours then deny doing so. Straight faced. I had no idea what was going on apart from the fact that I had some clarity for the first time in years.

Enough clarity that I could see you for what you were. A controlling, gaslighting piece of shit.

Fuck you.

So, what was the point of writing this post? Why do this now?

It's so I can impart this message.

It isn't you. It's them.

Never again.

Run. Be safe. Be happy.