Feminism: Where There Is Life There Is Hope

Holly Bro, Grace, Emily Cuz and the countless women and men who have contacted me this week, this is for you.

It has been a weird triggery week for me this week. Last week was International Women's Day (IWD) and that threw up a huge amount of issues for men and women. 'Why have IWD?' I was asked along with 'where is Men's International Day?'

Second question is easy to answer. As @distopiandream_ put it, 'basic fucking research, Nov 19th'

First question is even easier, but will take a lot longer to answer. This is how I see it.

I am a feminist for a reason. That reason is because I can still answer 'NO' to the question 'Does this affect men?' Aware as I am that men get raped, are subject to domestic abuse etc, there were 4 things that focused my mind on things this week.

1. The #ididnotreport hashtag on Twitter. Stories shared by women (and some men) on why they did not report sexual abuse, this was an emotional and powerful thing to read. And read it I did. For hours and hours before I plucked up the courage to post to it myself. When I did, I immediately got the reply #webelieveyou. That was such a powerful moment that I couldn't sleep for crying. But they were happy cleansing tears. Why did I post on it in the end? I wanted my daughter to see it. To see it and to know that her life could be different. That she could talk if anything happened to her and that I would understand and support her. I spoke to her afterwards and I am hoping that this had the desired effect. The things that surprised me (but probably shouldn't) about it was that men were shocked but the women weren't. I was also surprised and empowered by the amount of women that I knew both personally and on Twitter that had been through the same thing. That leads me to...

2. The amount of private contact I had from women and one incredibly brave man who wanted to share their stories but didn't feel they could do so publicly. I spent hours and hours just sharing experiences with them and I hope that whatever I said that they felt better knowing they were not alone. I know I did. To them and everyone else who ever felt lost and unheard, #webelieveyou

3. A Thousand Reasons. I felt it answered the question 'Why feminism?' so beautifully, so eloquently that I make no apology for sharing it again. Just this week I have been asked if my tits get in the way of my career (No they don't, thanks for asking) I have had the assumption that I would remarry just to wear a nice dress (I wouldn't) and I have been called 'Dear' by a Senior Civil Servant (I promise he will not be doing that to anyone ever again). Until there are No Reasons I shall continue to be a feminist.

4. The disgusting behaviour of 'pro life' protesters in Brighton this week. Taking photos of women going into a clinic and harassing them with their vile literature. I put pro life in inverted commas as they don't seem to realise that to be pro choice is to be pro life. That it is my body, my life, my rules and that I would defend to the death the right of any woman to choose what they do with their own body. 

So this is what gives me hope.

The absolute brilliance of my daughter, my cousin and their friends. All of whom are still young, all of whom are already fighting the fight to be recognised as the intelligent human beings they are. They are considered, amazing, vocal, funny as HELL and are already kicking ass and taking names. I have some great debates with them and watching their minds match and sometimes beat mine is an awe inspiring thing to see. 

They will not accept it if they get told they have to be a nurse instead of a doctor. They will educate the men in their lives to not patronise any woman. Woe betide anyone who underestimates them for their wrath will be slow, painful and unmerciful (rather like a deep tissue massage) and will show the idiots up as the idiots they are. 

For these young women are armed with something invincible. Each other.

Long may it continue.

Lifestyles of the Sexy and Political

I'm in a weird place at the moment. Half way between being very proud and very, very fucking annoyed.


You see I got my union magazine through the post last week. And the President has been at it again. This time she said members' motions to conference were '...ludicrous and sometimes the result of a small minority with extreme views', said that we were '...sometimes seen as a far left union, out on the fringes.' and asked 'is that where you want to be?'


Don't believe me? Read this.


Flaming cheek.


After the last issue where she said we were only interested in doing 'sexy political' stuff this is a real smack in the face to all the hard working reps and most of all, the members who bother to write, debate and pass motions through their branches. How dare she? To say we are out on the fringes is playing directly into the hands of those who think that PCS are Trotskyite troublemakers. 


As an aside, I preferred to be known as a member of the Feral Underclass. It sounded kinda wild and sexy in a Pat Benetar 'Love Is A Battlefield' type way. Seriously, the sheer amount of net curtain that was sacrificed for that video is just mind blowing!


But I digress.


Sexy, Political, Ludicrous, Fringe. 


What she doesn't seem to get is that when you work for the Govt and when it is the Govt is attacking you then everything you do to fight is going to be political. It really is that simple. The attacks on the Public Sector are ideological. The attacks on the Public Sector have no economic basis and are just a way for David 'Child Of Thatcher' Cameron to cut harder, faster and deeper than that bitch could ever have wet dreamed. 


With Nick 'Lapdog' Clegg at his side. The man who sold his soul and his party for his shot at power. How does it feel to be fucked so royally and so publicly Nick huh? I hope it really hurts you fucker. 


Anyone who has read previous blogs of mine knows that there is a special place in my bile duct for Ed Milliband and he will now be joined by Ed Balls after he cracked jokes on Twitter while the NHS lay dying. 


But I digress. It's all political.


Sexy? Apart from the fact that PCS have the best looking activists (joking, honest), what we do can hardly be called sexy. 


Yeah baby, sort out that car park rota... Oooooh you know I love it when you negotiate terms and conditions... hardly TU Porn really is it? Unless you really like car parks. 'Nuff said on that I think.


Ludicrous? I don't think so. The members write the motions. They get debated at AGMs. A vote is taken. The motion goes to conference to be debated again.There they will fall or become Union Policy. 


Is it the motions themselves or the democracy she finds ludicrous? Either way I am hoping that it won't be an issue after the upcoming GEC elections. I am hoping that democracy will do its thing and bloody well get her replaced with someone who actually understands and respects the very democracy that got her bloody elected!


Fringe. Really??? We're not on the fringes, we are in the middle of the fight to protect our members' jobs, pay and pensions! We have led industrial action over privatisation and will not hesitate to do so again if that is what it takes to win. Fringe. Pffft!


It is the reason that we now have the hashtag #pcsbringingsexyback If she wants to use sexy as an insult then we'll just reclaim it!


So yeah, pretty pissed off with all that, but on the other hand really proud of the anger that has become apparent from our members over her total disregard for their contribution to their union. 


And believe me, they are not happy. Now they just need to show their displeasure when it comes to ballot time. 


They need to vote Kerry Fairless for Group President.

Wrong End Of The Stick Thin

Wasn't sure whether or not to write this blog or not, but I've had reason to muse upon the subject lately and I thought it would be better written down just in case it could maybe help someone, especially if that someone was me.

Everything I write about this is from my own perspective. I don't claim to speak for anyone else.

This blog is dedicated to anyone who ever felt out of control.

My name is Goddessdeeva and I am an anorexic.

I get that I don't look like one, I get that I am not what you would call stick thin. But I was. By the Seven I was. I look back at the photos of that time and I don't recognise the skeleton with the sunken eyes that looks back at me. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Anorexia, in my experience is rarely about the weight. I say rarely because though I can't speak for everyone who has suffered, from everyone who I have spoken to, it was never about the weight. It was about the control.

For an anorexic, when you can control nothing else in your life, you can always control what goes into your mouth. Every pain, every cramp, every headache just reaffirms how in control you now are. And that is the destructive bit. So what did I learn from my illness?

I learned that I will always be an anorexic, just one that eats. Much like an alcoholic will always have the potential to drink again and an ex smoker will always have the potential to go back to the ciggys, I know that  one episode of feeling out of control to have me reaching for vast quantities of pineapple juice and nothing else.

I learned that being 5'11'' and eight stone eleven is not a good look. Not unless you like to see bones sticking out. Or complete muscle wastage is your thing. I suppose if you like greasy, spotty skin to go with greasy lank hair, I looked like a fucking supermodel.

If you also liked a woman to have bad breath where her body was eating itself, constantly had the shits because of excessive pineapple juice intake or had a kink for women with dark sunken eyes, no boobs and no bum then I was your dream girl.

I would put a picture on here but for two reasons. One, it would identify me and this blog is anonymous for a reason and two, it would probably make you sick. I could store things in the gap between my neck and my collar bones.

Yeah, I was hot.

Well I thought I was as that was what everyone was telling me. 'Oh, you're so thin, you look great! I'd love to be as thin as you, look as good as you!' Yeah, right. I looked like shit.

I learned that it is not possible to live on a mars bar, (I knew I needed sugar) a glass of water (I knew my body needed water) and half a pack of crisps (I needed some fats right) daily and not end up in hospital.

I learned how to lie. To my friends, to my family, to myself. Of course I had already eaten earlier. I just wasn't  hungry, really you should have SEEN the amount I got through earlier! Nobody cared anyway. I was alone and nobody would ever understand what I was going through. Nobody would miss me if I died anyway. I was in control. I knew what I was doing.

All of it bullshit. All of it slowly killing me.

I learned that I could never get warm.

I learned that everything always hurt.

I learned to put towels in the bottom of the bath so I wouldn't bruise.

And I got off on all of it.

I was devious, power hungry. Every morsel of food I didn't eat was a victory. I thought I was clever, wearing my baggy clothes. Concealer was my friend. I was living the high life!

Until McDonalds. I wasn't eating, obviously, but I was hanging round with my friends treating myself to a second glass of water. I vaguely remember lying down. I have a somewhat fuzzy memory of being in an ambulance and waking up with a drip in my arm. Apparently I had no reflexes, they stuck pins in me and I didn't react. From what they told me, I was pretty close to organ failure.

All because I felt I had no control.

What brought me back? A very straight talking doctor. He asked me how old my baby was and if I was happy for him to grow up without a mother. Being as it was being beaten, raped and mentally abused by his father that had led to me feeling out of control, there was no way I was going to let that happen. The straight talking doctor told me that at that point it was eat a sandwich or die.

So I ate. Small portions at first as my stomach was so shrunken, but I ate. And I took my life back. I finally found the courage to leave the abusive partner. (Though he did stalk me for 2 years after that.) I got a job, I grew my hair and my nails and I took the power back.

And I got counselling. Long term extensive counselling. Regardless of taking more control in my life, without the counselling I would be dead. Because without dealing with the root causes, without actually working to heal myself at some point I would have reached for the pineapple juice again.

I would have died.

I get that now. I already looked dead, I already felt dead, but I would have given death the commitment I knew it was looking for.

Things are different these days. I have far more control of my life. I am a curvy goddess now, with great boobs and a ghetto booty. I have hair I love, great skin and I am happy within my skin. How I look doesn't define me, and I know I am more admired for my brain than my body.

And this is good. But I know myself and I know I have to always watch myself to make sure I'm not missing meals or feeling cast adrift. I will never be cured of anorexia. I will always have to guard against its creeping back.

I am strong. You can be too. Your life depends on it.

Reasons To Be Cheerful #thegoodmoodcontinues

Two days I've been in a good mood now. Two whole days. For anyone who knows me, this is unprecedented unless I am on leave or in a state of advanced inebriation. Even then it is touch and go!

My good mood has been infectious. And it has scared the shit out of my colleagues. Which is always good.

As I blogged my Very Bad Mood recently, I thought it only fair that I blogged the good one too. I hope you get some sense of joy from it.

So why am I in such a good mood? I got some perspective and made some decisions. A very dear friend was quite alarmed at that ('never a good sign, that!' she said) but I think she understands now.

So, my reasons to be cheerful.

1. I am loved.
Yeah I know this should have been obvious but it wasn't, ok? Even a Goddess has her insecure moments where she doesn't feel worthy. I mean, why else have worshippers? However, I realised that the support and love I have had over the past few months has sustained me. Better still, I have realised that I am deserving of it. And you know what? I like that. In fact I love it!

2. I love.
Oh yes I do buddy! It feels liberating to admit to it, but yes, I do! When I love, I love HARD. It can be intimidating, it can be intense, but you know what, if you can get past that, you might find that it is warm, secure, rewarding and maybe, just maybe, a little bit exciting.

3. NO MORE PINING!
I decided that I was no longer going to pine for what could be or should be in my life and start living it properly again. There is a certain thing that I am without. A thing that I value and love. I know I may be without it for a very long time and am prepared to wait for it, but while I do, I'm going to live my life. And enjoy it.

4. I'm in love with Holland's Pies.
I love them, am in love with them and will not be ever eating another pie. I belong to that pie exclusively and I could not be happier about that. It is a great pie. I am very happy with it. Pasties are very nice, but it is pie all the way for me. *does an I LOVE PIE wiggly dance*

5. I remembered how to smile.
(see item 4 about how great the pie is)

6. I found hope.
Not pie related this time but, social media related! I read through my Twitter and my FB  timelines and I realised something. This government may be the biggest bucket of cunts we have ever had the misfortune to encounter, Nick Clegg may be the most pointless thing since, well you can insert your own analogy here, they may be evil, pernicious and downright evil, but you know what? There are millions of us who will not go down without a fight. We are saying 'no' and we are teaching our families, our children, our communities to say 'no' too. And this makes me smile. And gives me hope that whatever happens, it will not happen quietly.

7. @calmconfusion
Love, love, love. #twolivesonebreath Oh My Goddess the woman is amazing and I am lucky to have her in my life. That level of understanding is so rare. If you find it, never let it go.

8. My wife Kaleigh. (and her boyfriend Monica)
These people have been so amazing I cannot even begin to tell you. They are always there to wiggly dance and feed me biscuits. I love them both like you cannot imagine.

9. A Game Of Thrones is coming back.
See my first ever blogpost on why I am #teamlannister. And me Mam and Dad bought me a Lannister tshirt to wear!!!!

10. I finally own sexy yet comfortable underwear.
If you are a woman, you know what I mean. If you are a straight man, no you cannot have pics.

There are loads of other reasons, but I fear that this will become far too gushy. So I will leave you with this. Where there is love, hope and THIS to dance to at a ridiculously loud volume there will be a good mood.

Enjoy it while it lasts. Question Time is on tonight.

Fuel For A Rage Machine

Let me just get this out there. I am in a BAD FUCKING MOOD today.

It has been coming a while I think, and now it has arrived in such epic proportions that even Plan B and cake has failed to soothe the savage beast.

So what has caused it. I can tell you, but it is likely to offend someone somewhere so don't say I didn't warn you. There is going to be a LOT of bad language.

I have discovered that while I was freezing my fucking tits off on a picket line last monday that a rep, one who has been a rep for a very long fucking time, represents Black members and has aspirations to national union positions refused to take part in the Industrial Action because he didn't see what the dispute had to do with him. (name removed to protect me, not him) you are a fucking disgrace. Stand down now.

My union magazine has arrived on my doorstep this morning. The President's column is that derogatory towards reps and members that I nearly physically threw my fucking bag through a window. If you want to see blatant electioneering and a study in missing the point, click here.

Those of you who have been aware of me for more than five minutes will be aware that I have a mild Twitter addiction. This has been compulsive due to the trolling behaviour I have witnessed from a trade union rep who  believes that some cuts are necessary and that the third sector can deliver public services better than the public sector. Seriously, this attention seeking fuckwitted cunt is getting on my last nerve and the only reason I haven't blocked her is because she reminds me of how far we still have to go and why we still have to fight.

I have members who are under threat of privatisation who are asking me why they should take industrial action.

I have a government who is looking to shaft me in every way they possibly can. If I lose my job I will become one of the undeserving poor, you know, those scroungers who are spending YOUR MONEY! I work full fucking time and I am already one of the undeserving poor.

I have a Labour Leadership who just don't fucking get it that while they are cosying up to the cunts in Parliament that they are disenfranchising the very people they rely on for money and votes.

Something I was really looking forward to now isn't going to happen for the best possible reason which doesn't make it any fucking easier.

And I haven't been laid in a very, VERY long time.

So, if you don't get why collective action is important, if you even want to try to justify a single cut to me, if you want to fuck me over or denigrate what I do, my advice to you is stay the fuck out of my way. I am not in the fucking mood for you and will not be held responsible for my actions.

Fuck it. I'm gonna go get drunk in the bath.

The Good, The Bad and the Milliband

Well it's the new year with all the joy that finally being out of fucking December brings. I didn't want to do a retrospective because, well, those of you who know me personally already know what my year has been like and those of you who only know me through my blog know as much as I want you to.

So, I thought I would do my own New Year's Honours type thing. Some you will agree with, some you won't. I'm gonna be honest as ever and if you recognise yourself, good.

Person of the Year
Everybody who took strike action. Everybody who voted with their pens or their feet and showed the government that we will not stand for pension theft. I salute you.

Women of the Year
This one is split between the women known as Dawn, Tizz,  Emz Wife, Kay Wife, Mrs G and Me Mam. They have been a constant source of support, love and fun for me. They have put up with a great deal from me this year. Tears, tempers, screaming and have done so with great aplomb.

Men of the Year
This one goes to... well, you know who you are. You have taught me acceptance, true love and that I don't need to live my entire life on Facebook and Twitter. Hope things work out for us both, I really do.
Also this goes to @Yokelbear for being an educational and personal inspiration, Me Dad for always being bloody right and @kitleary for never failing to make me laugh when I am in a truly shitty mood. And for the cuddles.

Inspiration of the Year
This one goes to Branch Organiser at Euston Dave Plummer. Seriously, check out his website! It is stunning and is a testament to his dedication. This also goes to every single PCS member and rep. You are why I do what I do. It's ok... I can sleep when I'm dead.

Cunt of the Year
Soooo many candidates here! Do I go for Shiny Faced Cunt Cameron? No... I expect him to be a cunt. Do I go for Cunt Buffalo Womb Botherer Nadine Dorries? No... I know where I am with her. Disgusted most of the time, but it is at least a consistent disgust. EDL? (Too easy.) BNP? (Even easier.) Katie Melua? (Killed my favourite Cure song.) Tim Westwood? (My car is NOT 'pork chopping'. Twat.) CJ from Eggheads? (If this needs any explanation at all please feel free to piss off.)

I had to make a choice! So hard! So many cunts to choose from! In the end, I had a shortlist of scabs and Ed Milliband. Then I realised that they weren't mutually exclusive, so...

CONGRATULATIONS ED MILLIBAND AND PICKET LINE CROSSERS!

Your lack of support, your blind, slavish devotion to the bollocks the Daily Mail spouts is not only disgusting, it undermines those of us who are actually trying to make a difference here. Please fuck off and have a long hard word with yourselves. You can come back when you understand what unity means. Until then you have my deep and undying revulsion.

Happy New Year everyone. Keep fighting xxx

Happy Fucking Xmas

I fucking hate December. I always have and always will. All that forced joviality, all that near panicked fun. Gotta have fun, it's CHRISTMAS!!! Season of peace and goodwill to all apparently. Time for family.

Give me a fucking break.

Seriously, if you can't have fun without it being an arbitrary date in a calendar I feel sorry for your friendships. It blatantly isn't peaceful and there is no goodwill. As for family, if you can't make each other feel special and loved all year then there is no hope for humanity.

All my worst things have happened in December. I met my first husband. The one who turned out to be gay and took my kids from me. Which was also in December as it happens.

I met my second husband in December. Not that this was a bad thing. I don't regret being married to him for nearly 10 years, but we met on xmas eve. Which will sully it forever now.

When I was 15 I had a nervous breakdown. I spent 3 weeks in the corner of my bedroom rocking while my mum refused to get medical help and my sister spat at me and kicked me for my 'weakness'.

Guess which month it was?

And today, I have given up something totally precious to me. Something beautiful and pure that made me happier than I have ever been. I gave it up for the right reasons and I really hope that it comes back to me. I'll be waiting and hoping.

At some point today I might even stop crying.

So excuse me if I don't want to take part in your fucking festivities.

I don't want to wear a party hat and fucking tinsel. I don't want to pull a fucking cracker and fake laugh at the stupid crappy joke.

Excuse me if I just lock myself away for xmas and new year and talk to nobody. Excuse me if I emerge slightly more jaded than last year.

I got a broken heart again this year. Fuck xmas.