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.

On Why I Run

I started running this week.

I signed up to run a 5k event in October too.

Those who know me in real life have been shocked, impressed and slightly suspicious as to who this body snatcher is inhabiting their friend.

I didn't do running. I wouldn't run for a bus. I wouldn't run for anything really. Not that I was lazy, though I was dreadfully unfit of course, but I just didn't do running.

Now I get up at 6am and go for a half an hour run with the aid of the Couch 2 5k programme.

Yep. You heard right. 6am. SIX. In the AM.

Those who know me in real life are again wondering if body snatchers like to get up early.

Believe me, nobody is more surprised about this than me.

But I am addicted. On rest days I am restless, waiting for the next time I get to put my trainers on and go for it.

So what caused the change?

I nearly died. I had pneumonia and nearly died. I ended up on death's door at Bristol Royal Infirmary with double pneumonia and asthma so severe I nearly died.

Do you know what that's like? To feel your life draining away because you can't get a breath? To know that unless you fight, I mean LITERALLY, fight for your life that everything you love is gone forever? Do you know how it feels to actually nearly give into the temptation to just let go? To just let yourself slip away and no longer be?

It's fucking scary.

So when I got out of hospital I stopped smoking, I started eating healthily and started walking more.

Then I got the urge to run.

I heard that exercise is good for depression. I think that if you manage to get out of bed with depression that you are already winning, but I have to say that on the days when I run I am happy. Really happy.

Knackered. But happy.

When I am out there I get strange looks sometimes. I could do with a sports bra to keep my jelly belly still to be honest as it slows me down a bit. I get honked at by van drivers, I get giggled at by dog walkers, this mad, beetroot coloured, sweating, panting woman who is trying to just run for one more minute. Just one more. Come on Deeva, you can do this. You can run for another minute...

There is also that sweet moment when the woman on your running app tells you RUN just as the bass drops on Flux Pavillion's Bass Cannon in your ears and that makes you feel invincible.

I go out really early and sometimes I worry about that. I am vulnerable to attack, to fat shaming, to the perception that if anything were to happen to me that I was asking for it (I wear VERY short shorts).

But I don't even care. I run.

And this is why I run.

At 6am the world belongs to me. I don't have to look good. I don't have to smell good. I just have to run.

I don't have to be polite to people I don't like. I don't have to be anyone at all. I just have to run.

I am not in competition with anyone. I am good enough. I am the best that I can be. I don't have to worry that anyone is judging me. I just have to run.

The wind is in my hair. I can hear my blood. I can feel the road through my feet. Water tastes like nectar. My breath is ragged then smooth. It is vital. I am alive. I am me. I am alive, alone, doing something that is just for me and nature is running with me, though me.

I am exhilarated. I am addicted to that exhilaration. I am a goddess.

I run.

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 My Experiences As A Minority In The Metal Community - Guest Post

Now, this one is from a very good friend of mine called Erica. He is awesome and funny and ridiculously talented at art and being an all round good egg.

This made me shout FUCK YES! on a packed train today. Enjoy!!

I am a metalhead. I am also queer (a more accurate description would be something like “bisexual and genderqueer”, but I prefer to just use the word queer*). These are two aspects of my identity and they are both very important to me. Within myself, I know the two are compatible. Outside in the world, I feel like an irregularity, a weird lump in a wooden carving that quickly gets glossed over.

The “metal community” is a weird one. I guess it’s pretty comparable to a nerd culture in many ways- a group of people brought together by a shared interest (in this case, a type of music). People celebrate their affiliation with this subculture through the way they dress, going to events like gigs and festivals, etc.

The “metal community” also has a history of supposedly “supporting the underdog” as it were. Many people who feel drawn to the subculture felt “different” growing up, or felt like outsiders, and I think many would agree there is a feeling of solidarity, co-operation, openness and tolerance within the community as a result of this. The S.O.P.H.I.E. campaign (Stamp Out Prejudice, Hate and Intolerance Everywhere) for example was set up to promote tolerance following the tragic death of Sophie Lancaster, who was attacked for the way she dressed. On the whole, it is a space which is largely accepting of anyone who is “different”.

But that’s not the whole story. Fuck knows how this happened, but the metal community somehow manages to be super lovely and welcoming, and simultaneously the most disgustingly hyper-masculine dick-worship fest you could ever imagine. It’s nothing new, really- just a different colour of patriarchy. A very fucking loud and obvious one. In ways I like it, because it’s so blatant. No one’s trying to deny how male dominated metal is (unlike people constantly claiming there is equality in the rest of society la la la the patriarchy’s a myth la la la protect my privilege please).

So what does this mean for me as a queer person? How do I exist in this space? With difficulty, is the answer. For example: how do I act in a way that reflects my gender, so that others see me the way I want to be seen? Part of me really wants to engage in the hyper-masculine dick worship fest, because it’s really fun, and I really enjoy getting thrown around by massive men and chugging pints of cider out of some drummer’s disgusting walking boot (no, really, I do). I like being a boy. But I know I shouldn’t have to do this to prove my masculinity, and this sort of attitude to masculinity actively supports oppressive structures (hint: ones that oppress me). I don’t like that.

I dare to exist in this space as genderqueer, and that alone is pretty fucking subversive. I want people to SEE my gender, but they don’t. People are conditioned to ask “are you a boy or a girl?”, to do a quick calculation in their head (“well that hair is pretty short… but then there’s those legs… not much breasts or hips… the face shape… soft arms…. Make-up? Hmmm I’ll go with girl” (No you fucker my body is not some fucking puzzle for you to solve)). It makes me feel so conspicuous. And people let me know I’m conspicuous.

If you’re not familiar with mosh pits, it’s like a very rough version of the hokey cokey. I thoroughly recommend them. Very cathartic. But I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had men run into issues with my gender in the pit (Note: their issues). It is scary for them to see a queer body transgressing the roles of its perceived gender in a space normally for white, cisgender, straight, able-bodied men. It would be easier for them if I didn’t exist, because they could continue their hyper-masculine dick worship fest without questioning what’s going on. People try very hard to ignore the existence of queer bodies. We’re made invisible. But they can’t ignore me when I physically fall into them. So they panic and say things like “wow, good on you for being in the pit!” and “Don’t see many people like you in the pit!” or give me patronising high-fives. They panic because they realise the tolerant community they prided themselves so much in is completely alienating to that queer kid and they start choking on their own hypocrisies. Save your breath. I don’t need you to tell me how much you accept me in the pit. I will mosh because I fucking want to, not to validate your desire to appear accepting. I know you’re trying to be nice, but I’m here to get drunk and fuck about, not have a nice equality and diversity chat (hint: I’m not nice, I’m angry).

But at the same time, I relish this split second of visibility, uncomfortable as it is, because it’s all I get. I think I have had one conversation with a trans metalhead, ever. I saw his home made back-patch that said “Fuck heterosexuality, yes homo, hail satan” and thought FINALLY my sort of person! We had a nice chat about how it’s very uncomfortable moshing in a binder, how it’s hard to look metal when long hair makes you dysphoric, and other trans metalhead problems. It was great, y’know, getting to talk to someone with similar experiences. That one time. For five minutes.

I am sure there are loads of us out there. It’s just hard to find each other when we’re silenced, made invisible, ignored, avoided or excluded. If the metal community wants to continue to claim to be inclusive and tolerant, it’s time it did more for minorities. Don’t give me that “but we can’t help it, there are so few women/queer/trans/people of colour in the subculture” bullshit. There are loads. You just don’t want to look at us.

*NOTE: I self-identify as queer, and wish to be referred to as queer, but not all LGBTQIA+ people do. The word has a history as a slur. In this case, I am giving you permission to call me this. Please do not suddenly start throwing the word around willy nilly if it’s not yours to use.

Erica, 18. Likes: Cats, art, cycling, toilet humour. Dislikes: Cheese, underwear, trimming my toenails.

On Fat Shaming - Guest Post

This one is from a very good friend of mine who wishes to remain anonymous.

Very personal and very powerful. It is a must read.

Hi. My name's [redacted]. I'm 29. And I'm fat. And I don't mean model fat. I don't mean feeling a bit bloated today fat. I mean fat fat. I'm 5'4, I currently weigh 19st 4.5lbs (or I did on Monday) and I wear a size 24. I'm fat fat. And I refuse to apologise for the fact. Because you know what, I'm happy. Or I was until I read this article in the Daily Mail. Admittedly, that was my first mistake. Reading the Daily Fail. But it passes time in work, and it often posts articles about cute animals that make me happy, like the one about Budi, the baby Orangutan. It started sad but it's getting good. And look at the concentration on his little face while he eats that orange. Adorable! But yeah, I read the Mail, whatever. But today I read the article about that atrocious little man and his 'constructive fat shaming'. It enraged me. It made me furious. Allow me to explain. Fat shaming is a subject that has pissed me off for my entire life. I could write volumes on it. On how it has personally affected me, and how I know it affects friends and family. I won't. But I could. And yes, I'm fat. It's not a new thing. I've always been fat. And I've always been fat shamed. So have my parents, on my behalf. When I was little, the dentist couldn't figure out how I could weight as much as I do and have perfect teeth, not a single cavity. I mean, my parents were obviously filling me full of sugar right? I had to get that size somehow (FYI it was cheese, not sweets. Cheese is AWESOME!). The doctors accused my parents on more than one occasion of over feeding me, abusing me. They told them to make me exercise, eat less, everything. They didn't need to. When I was little I did ballet, tap, swimming, cycling, went to Brownies and was always doing something with my friends in the outside world, involving moving around. I was a kid for fucks sake. I was doing kid stuff. But I remained fat. I got bullied in school. I don't mean some kid called me names and I got upset. I mean begging not to go to school, making myself ill bullied. I'm talking parents going into school to discuss the situation with teachers. It was serious. And it started when I was 5 and it finished when I was 18. And it only finished then because I left school. It was the worst kind of fat shaming. From the kids stating the obvious, to the ones discussing the food on my plate in secondary school. It was awful. But it was bullying and I had an understanding of that. I could manage my way through the little fuckwits I was forced to be around ever single day of my life for 13 years. It was a thing. It isn't now. Now it's sneaky. It creeps up on you out of nowhere. Because we're adults now and it's not socially acceptable to walk up to someone and call them names (or, it isn't for the most part. I can't account for everyone, unfortunately). When you're an adult, it's for your own good. You need to be told. Whether it's the doctor informing you that the cold you have is due to your weight, or the sales person telling you, with inevitable disdain (imagined or real) that the item of clothing you want doesn't come in your size. It's there and it's meant to make us change our fatty little ways. Enter 'Life Bitch' Steve Miller. What an odious little creature he is. He believes that calling a spade a spade, or in this case, a fatty fat, will make them change their ways and lose weight. Telling them that their weight will kill them will make them slim down. It'll save their life! Woo, go Steve. Or not. If that shit worked, I'd be a size 0, minimum! Because that's all I've heard all my life. He claims it's for health reasons that he does this. And admittedly, I am trying to lose weight for those reasons. I'd love to walk somewhere without my ankles, knees, hips and lower back giving out because they've carried almost 20 stone around for too long. I'd love that. But don't come all saintly when you're bullying and shaming people into conforming to your norms. Remember, it's the slim and healthy people who pay for your treatment when your health fails. Why should we pay for your lack of self-control? That SCREAMS helpful, constructive slimming aid doesn't it? I mean, I certainly feel inspired. Not inspired to lose weight mind, more inspired to see if all that time spent watching Sherlock and Dexter would make it possible for me to actually murder someone and get away with it. I think I stand a fair chance. I actually hate the assumption that fat people have no self control. I have tried every diet known to man. Atkins, Low GI, Rosemary Conley, WeightWatchers, Slimming World, calorie counting, fasting, 5:2, Slim Fast...I could go on and on for DAYS! Following all of that shit takes control. Masses of control. Especially when all you want is something yummy, a sweet maybe, a bag of crisps, pick your poison. You get it in your head and you need it. You obsess about it. You consider fashioning a shiv out of a biro and shanking a co-worker in the kidneys just to get that bar of chocolate they have in their drawer...I mean, you obsess over it. But it falls outside of your current torture of choice and you refuse yourself it. Not giving in to the ensuing obsession takes every last bit of control in your body. Don't tell me I lack self control. He's even written a book for fatties like me. 'Get off your arse and lose weight'. Well fuck, I never thought of that! Kindly fuck off you horrendous excuse for a human being. Take your pseudo-compassion with you. Then there's Katie Hopkins. I won't lie, I didn't watch her show about getting fat and losing it. Isn't she wonderful though? Her high metabolic rate makes it really hard for her to gain weight, so she really stuck with the weight gain to prove a point that it's super easy to lose four stone. Yup. Now make that eight stone. Or fifteen. That 'little bit' of weight is suddently Everest and it's impossible to climb. Even with your desire to prove the world wrong fueling you, and that image of a pretty frock dancing about your head. It's Everest. And you struggle to hit base camp. But I won't dwell on her. She isn't constructive. She doesn't even pretend. She's just a twat. Back to using health against us. Fake concern. My weight concerns me when it comes to my health. I'd like to not be punished by my ankles or other joints for walking about too much. I'd like to not be surprised by how swollen my toes can get after exercise. And by God, I would love to have less natural insulation because fuck me it is WARM up in this bitch! I've had friends tell me how badly they need me to lose weight. How worried they are. And it's sweet of them but it's not their concern. They just hang around with the fat, they don't live inside it. It's not like I love living here. But you know, there are worse places to live and I'll take it. Maybe do a bit of remodelling. Whatever. But, of course, the horrid little man has a success story to go with his article on the correct way to mentally abuse a friend or loved one. Tracy, 34, 19st, size 24 clothes. Having read her testimonial I prefer to think that it was in spite of Steve and not because of him that she lost weight. After all, if having a nasty little man telling you how fat and awful and lazy you are was enough to make you lose weight, I honestly would never have gotten fat in the first place. But what I'm trying to say here, in a rather rambling, largely angry way, is that hurting someone's feelings, belittling them and making them feel less of a person is not constructive. Its abuse. It's bullying. And you wouldn't allow your child to behave in that manner. So set a good example. Don't be a twat. Be helpful. Be supportive. Be nice, it takes absolutely no effort on your part. So go forth, lovely people, and don't give side eye to that fat bird or bloke you walked past, wearing something you feel is inappropriate for them. If it makes them feel good, feel happy for them. Don't be that guy. Don't be a dick. Don't be Steve Miller.

Slap *is* a Feminist Issue - Guest Post

So the wonderful Ang is back! This time on make up.
Enjoy!

Slap *is* a Feminist Issue,
(or Just *how many* eye liners are *too many* eyeliners...?)

So, here's the upfront anti-spoiler alert. The 'Slap' in this GoddessDeeva guest blog isn't about domestic violence or violence against women, against men or any people of trans- or non-binary gender.  No, no, no.

For the record, by 'Slap' I use the word here in the sense that most women I know, plus how various actors, dancers, wardrobe mistresses and several transvestites of my genuine acquaintance use it, namely make-up, beauty products, that stuff.  You know - the mascara, lippy, eye liner (guy liner) bit of face-colouring goo? Yes, that.  Everyone sitting comfortably?  OK, let's move on...

I'll 'fess up. I have an absolutely *HUGE* collection of Slap.  Monumental.  Trays, boxes, bags, metric feck-tonnes of the stuff. Lots of my Slap haul has been gathered through free samples and gifts from tactical buying on posh beauty counters over the years, where samples are loyalty currency, but I confess that I have spent a small fortune on the stuff. (And yes, I know that there are several teenage daughters of my friends who are actively lobbying to inherit said Slap collection when I die. Hum.)

As an aside, I remember in the early 1980s (when I was an undergraduate university student) that The Slap was a front-line feminist issue.  In the sense that, on one side, there were women living in bender camps in freezing conditions surrounding the US nuclear missile base at Greenham Common, and it was cool, right on, not to indulge. Armpit hair was A Thing, almost trendy.  And yet, at the same time when I was a student,  when the New Romantics were "It", and those first year uni bands like The Cure, My Bloody Valentine, The Wedding Present, Pixies, were super cool, uni students wore more Slap than I'd ever seen or knew how to deal with at that age. You can't be a proper pale-faced Goth without a trowel-load of The Slap, right? (Not as if I liked most of that music, but, hey, I duly back-combed my hair and learned how to do proper eyeliner. Ish.  I was rubbish at it, and I looked crap.)

So what changed over 20+ years?  I realised that The Slap has proper super-power, true purpose for most women. Let me be clear, this isn't at all about wearing makeup to look pretty for a man, for a partner, for a date, for sex.  No. Can't be arsed.  Sod off with that. I wear my Slap for myself alone, with no obligation towards anyone else. (And let's face it, my husband Clive has seen me more often Without than With The Slap.  No probs. He used to wear more Slap professionally (and with four inch heels) than I ever have, but that's another blog story...)

However, I'll put it out here that there's a HUGE confidence boost for all women that comes from The Slap. Just ask Macmillan nurses why they take bags of lovely lipstick into hospital wards to help women recovering from cancer and chemo. It helps women who feel like shit feel as if they can face the day, face life again.  It has power, in the way that gravity as the weakest force in the universe has power. Huge power.

So here it is. I'm just laying it out here in GoddessDeeva space that Slap is a deeply feminist issue. It allows, it facilitates, it strengthens so many women to go out daily into the (mostly male-dominated) workplace and (dominated by the patriarchy) world feeling just that bit more confident, that bit more Can Do, maybe a little bit more Empress of the Universe. It says soft,y, so quietly "Yes, Khaleesi, you can rule the world. I understand you may have needed a bit of Slap to stand up and claim your rightful place in the world order.  That's OK. Nice shade of lippy, btw.  OK, let's go rule the world."

That's all OK by me. Excellent, in fact.  Why not?

So I'll reserve my right to paint my fingernails some dark, gothic colour while yelling at Newsnight or Question Time. Nail polish does not dim my intellect. Nor does it impair my dim view of selfish, bigoted, money-driven politicians on all sides. I can wear this season's most fashionable shade of Chanel nail polish and still argue the political toss.

If I have a Big Meeting to go to, one where I need to be shiny and full of win, I'll Slap Up.  Skin-matched base, concealer, neutral blended eye, mascara, eyeliner, lip liner perfect. The Works.  No shit. I got this.  And frankly, I know it works. I'll go into that meeting feeling just that bit better prepared, better armoured. Teflon on.  And I'll win.

Game on. So, get that mascara and lippy on. Let's go run the world...

Ang, known in some online places as Lady Clanger, is an atheist, Socialist republican, a keeper of parrots and humongously large felines.  She's an activist in mind and at heart, who strives to Do The Right Thing, even if daily life sometimes gets in the way. Views here exclusively her own. 

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!

         

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 Being More Than An Incubator

I'm getting on a bit.

I'm 43 and my kids are of an age to have children of their own. None of them have expressed an interest in doing so, but they are, well, old enough.

I got asked the other day about my kids, their ages, genders, plans to procreate. I replied that I have 3 kids of varying ages and genders and that none of them seem interested in children.

Apparently, this is a 'shame'. Not for the boys, but for my daughter person. The head tip, the pitying look, the reassurance that she'll change her mind in time. The insistence that being a grandparent is the most rewarding thing you can do.

Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Face.

Firstly, why is it not a 'shame' that my boys aren't bothered? Ah yes, because boys. Because women are merely producers of children. It is abnormal if a woman doesn't want children isn't it? Dangerous thinking.

Women making their own choices about what they want with their lives? What are we to do? Where will it all end?

WHO WILL THINK OF THE CHILDREN?!?

You know what? Maybe the daughter person will change their mind. Maybe they won't.

But why is no one saying this about my boys? Why is it that they can only think that women must want children otherwise what is she for? Why 'she might change her mind' and not 'they might change their minds'? Men can not want children and nobody bats an eyelid. A woman? There must be something wrong with her if she doesn't want to reproduce.

UGH.

But here is the thing. It will be their choice. If I have grandchildren, great. If I don't, then also great. I value my kids as more than baby producers. I value them for the people they are now, not for the progeny they may produce.

I love them for the human beings they are, for their intellect, for their huge capacity for love. In their own right.

Women, you are more than an incubator. If you decide to have children I support you. If you choose to be child free (not child less) then I support you.

Men. You get off easy on this. Again.

Patriarchy innit.