Tall Tales - Internalising Being Unfeminine

My height has long been an issue for me. I am the tallest one in my family. A family of petite women.

I'm taller than both my parents and all of my siblings. Including the boys.

I'm taller than my female cousin.

I'm taller than most women.

And boy, have I felt it.

Why? Because society makes tall women feel unfeminine. Other.

There are exceptions of course, supermodels are tall and held up as bastions of beauty. But what if you're as tall as one, but not as slim or 'beautiful'? (don't get me started on body policing and definitions of beauty) Then you have failed at being feminine. Again.

And heaven forbid you are taller than your man! This is still noteworthy in a society that sees tall women as less feminine. I tower over The Lovely when I am in heels. Should it matter? No. Have I been conditioned to believe it does? Yes. Do I let it stop me wearing heels? Sometimes.

So I buy beautiful shoes then just look at them.

As a teenager, surrounded by petite feminine women I was referred to as gangly and lanky. I have always had quite a deep, husky voice too, and hence was called manly. I was ungraceful, a tomboy, not a proper girl. That I walked around stooped over at the shoulders in a vain attempt to disguise my height just added to this.

There were those (usually men) who referred to me as Amazonian and Statuesque, but as I had already internalised the messages from my family this felt like a polite way of saying unfeminine. A bit like saying big boned instead of fat (don't even start me on fat shaming).

And what of being an Amazon? What images does that word bring? Strong? Sassy? Warrior like? Sexy? You know what, not only is that a hell of a thing to live up to, but it suggests that tall women can't have their insecurities just like everyone else. It also enables the patronising and infantalising of short women who struggle to be taken seriously. My friend Wendy put it best when she said 'when people can look down on you physically they do it mentally too.'

Sometimes my height has been fetishised. There are men and women who positively drool over my height. That made me feel like an object, a freak and contributed to my feeling of otherness.
ROLL UP! ROLL UP AND SEE THE TALL WOMAN IN HER HEELS WITH HER LONG LEGS AND MASSIVE BOOBS! TWO TICKETS FOR A POUND!

Just no. I'm not here to be objectified or fetishised.

This may be a shock, but our height does not define our personality any more than our hair or eye colour. Redheads are not more fiery, green eyes don't mean you are more passionate. And I say this as someone with green eyes.

It's just genetics. I'm tall. Society should just get over it. I know I will.

And I will wear the beautiful shoes.

So if you really feel you must describe me in terms of my height, how about just saying tall. That'll do, you know.

And fuck anyone who is threatened by my being tall. It says more about you than it does about me.

No, I Don't Deserve To Be Raped.

Been meaning to write this blog post for a while, but xmas, new year and a stinking cold got in the way. Am writing it now because of a conversation I had with a total dick on Twitter. @CharlieStargatt just in case you wish to avoid him.

He asserted that if a woman is dressed provocatively, drunk and flirting, when she gets raped it is partly her fault.

I'm sure you can imagine how well that went down with me.

We argued back and forth for a while, I said ' @CharlieStargatt by your logic any woman who openly flirts with a man is to blame when she gets raped.'

He replied with ' @goddessdeeva oh my god really... in this given situation... the woman is PARTLY TO BLAME!!!!! I'm not saying the man isn't in the wrong..'

I felt sick. Physically sick. I told him I wept for him and hoped he never had daughters. Then I blocked him.

So why this post today? Because, alas, he is not alone. There are men and women, who because of slut shaming, victims blaming , patriarchy and rape culture generally really believe that this is a thing. That a woman who dresses 'provocatively', has a drink and flirts deserves to be raped. That she is to blame. If only 'partly'.

This goes out to all of you.

When I go out, I wear clothes that are sometimes tight, short and revealing. When I do this am I saying?
a) I am wearing these clothes because I like them and I am comfortable in my own skin.
b) I am wearing these clothes to provoke your innate sense of manliness and incite you to a sexual act over which you have no control.
c) Please force your penis inside me against my will.

I sometimes like to drink when I go out. Sometimes, hard to believe I know, to excess. Am I saying?
a) I'm a grown woman who likes a drink sometimes.
b) I am purposefully inebriating myself so that I may make your conquest of me easier, as obviously you are a man who cannot control his urges.
c) Please force your penis inside me against my will.

I'm quite a friendly person whether or not I've been drinking and I have a genuine interest in people. I may end up in the smoking area of a pub chatting to you. I may be smiling, tactile, laughing at your jokes.
One last time then, am I saying?
a) You seem like a nice guy to have a chat with, I am going to chat to you while I feel safe in your company.
b) I'm only talking to you because I obviously fancy you and I want to make it easier for you to assert your manly ways over me.
c) Please force your penis inside me against my will.

Let me make this VERY CLEAR, I could be drunk, naked, and lying legs akimbo in the street, the answer is NEVER going to be please force your penis inside me against my will.

I am not responsible for the actions of a rapist. A rapist is responsible for the actions of a rapist.
She lead me on is not an excuse. I could change my mind part way through and if you didn't stop when I told you to it would be rape.

So fuck you if you think I or any other person deserves to be raped because of their actions.
It's yours you want to be looking at.

Happy new year.

Violence Against Women - An IRL Global Problem No Matter What We Are Told

You know when sometimes you wish you'd gone to bed instead of staying up a little longer reading Twitter? Well, that was me last night. It all started when I read this brilliant article on how Violence Against Women (VAW) was a global problem by @OwenJones84.

It was insightful, and helpful and I was really pleased that there was a global call to arms to do something about VAW.

Then @sunny_hundal took issue with it. Ok, so far so predictable, a spat between two men on what is a women's issue but I let that slide. I then made my fatal error. I asked him what he didn't agree with. And I got this as a reply.


Sunny Hundal ‏@sunny_hundal
@goddessdeeva main disagreement that just because rape culture prevalent in both countries doesn't mean one can't be much worse.

Oh good lord, where to even start?

I could have gone the easy route and done the whole 'don't even start that with me, you are a man, I have no interest' route but it felt lazy somehow. So I replied with this.


Goddessdeeva ‏@goddessdeeva
@sunny_hundal just trying to get my head round a sliding scale of rape culture. Nope. Can't do it. All rape culture is as bad as it can get.

And this...

@sunny_hundal if we start a league table of rape culture we invalidate women's experience and that helps not one single woman.

And lo and behold, even though I avoided the lazy route, he asks me if I have ever been an Indian Woman.


CORRECTION: Having had a discussion and gone over last night's tweets, what Sunny Hundal ACTUALLY asked is if I had ever lived in India. The suggestion being that if I haven't then I have no authority to talk about this issue. This doesn't actually change anything, he is still wrong about rape culture league tables and the rest of this post still stands.

Well, no, I have to admit I haven't.

But here is what DOES make me qualified to argue with him on this issue.

I am aware of the issues. And from more than reading about them. I used to live in a city where there was a huge Indian and Pakistani populace, and I lived right in the middle of it. They were my neighbours and my friends. And as such, when they told me of a woman who was being beaten, raped, or forced into marriage that needed hiding for a bit, I would do it. Without even thinking about it. And when they were staying at my house and I was helping plan their escape we would talk. And I would listen. And would face up to their male relatives when they turned up on my doorstep threatening violence towards me. Inventive with their threats too they were.

I have to say that not all of these women managed to escape. That broke my heart. But some of them did. And that made it worth the threats.

Still a bit too peripheral for you Sunny? Try this then.

I am mixed race. Apparently I kinda 'look Asiany'. However, I am not, and have never claimed to be. Where I lived in said city, I would get spat at, cat called, slapped on the arse, groped, harassed, threatened with rape on a daily basis, cornered and leered at because I was a woman in western (read provocative) clothing who looked Asian.

So, yeah.... I feel I'm qualified to talk about the subject.

Also, and this is an important one here, I am a woman.

This means that EVERY WAKING MOMENT of my life outside my home has been risk assessed.

That's right, every moment. Even going across the road to buy bread. This is what we live with. Every day. The knowledge that at any time we may be harassed, abducted, beaten, raped or killed. Because we are women. And because rape culture says it is ok to do so. Much as I hate to say it, men, with their starting position of privilege will never be able to understand this. Never know how it feels to constantly be aware that today could be the day it all comes crashing down. As it does for thousands of women daily.

So don't you dare pit one country's rape culture against another. Just don't you dare! When you do that you not only invalidate the experiences of women (and men, I get that, but I can't write from that perspective as I'm not one) globally, but you damage the work that is ongoing on this.

Every woman is my sister and when I hear of even one of them being subjected to VAW it hurts me and makes me angry. No matter where on the planet they are.

I do not know ONE WOMAN who saw what happened in Delhi and said 'Nothing to do with me, it's India innit?' Not one. I do know Indian women who are appalled that there seems to be this league table of rape culture building up. It is divisive and helps not a single woman.

I asked Sunny two things last night. One, have you ever been a raped woman? And two, listen to the women.

The first I already knew the answer to.

In reply to the second was this article and links to articles written by women.

Throw as many links at me as you like Sunny, I am talking to women. Real, IRL, LIVE women who want help from their sisters across the world to fight what is undoubtedly a horrific place and time to live. Not just academics, not just women who have platforms in papers etc, normal, real, everyday women.

My hope for this year is that it will be the year that the mansplainers realise that if they want to be feminist allies that there needs to be less telling us how it is and more listening to what help we want.

I also hope that the millions of women around the world unite, free of rape culture league tables and fight VAW together.

Enough is enough sisters.

On Being A Sexually Aware Teenager

Read a Huff Post article today which made me more mad than I have been for a long while.

I'm conflicted as to whether or not to link to it as I'm sure it's link bait. You know, when online papers print something so FUCKING outrageous that you're sure it's just so they can get you to their website.

At least I HOPE that's what happened. Fuck knows.

The article was dealing with the fact that 13 year old girls have sexual thoughts. Anyone who is shocked at that is either in some fucking deep denial or has never been a 13 year old girl.

Personally I have been. And shock, horror, I had sexual thoughts. Fantasies too. My burgeoning sexuality was a thing to behold. I had the first of many orgasms as I discovered myself. Shut, I couldn't stop, I was seriously worried that I was going to do damage to my insides (Catholic school for ya) but I didn't care. My nightly forays into my sexuality were comforting, exciting and addictive.

I was never alone in my night world. I usually had someone famous with me. Simon le Bon was a regular, as was David Sylvain. At the same time on occasion. There were times when the partners in my fantasies were numerous and of both genders.

But you know what? I was 13. This behaviour is, I believe, not only normal, but safe and healthy.

I was a total wanker.

Does that mean I was overtly sexual? Sometimes. It is normal for teenage girls to flirt with men. It's how they learn. It is generally a safe, innocent thing and totally harmless.

Does it mean that I wanted to have sex? Sometimes. I was sexually awake and very curious about what it would actually feel like. Especially with someone I was madly in love with (there is still part of me that is annoyed that I was never Mrs Le Bon) but also I had fantasies about being picked out of a crowd by a pop star, usually John Taylor, and fucked.

Does this mean that if I had ever been in a position to have had sex with a famous person that, because I had fantasized about it that it would have been ok to do it? Fuck. No.

The age of consent is there for a reason. It is a protection. Whereas I truly believe that every woman has the right to do with her own body exactly as she pleases, I do believe that it is down to adults NOT to use the fact that a 13 year old has sexual thoughts as an excuse yo fuck them. They are supposed to be the grown ups.

The article assumes that these child predators know exactly what they're doing and maybe the author of that piece did.

But just because I was wanking myself silly at 13 doesn't mean that every girl does. My experience isn't everyone's experience.

The author's experience isn't the experience of every teenager who ever got fucked by a rock star.

She mentions a friend of mine in her article. I promise her, she knows FUCK ALL about her.

My friend was referred to as a slag, a 'Lolita' who had led this poor horny rock star astray. It made me angry then and it makes me angry now.

My friend was groomed. Young girls the world over get groomed. Then blamed for being so damn sexy.

This is why we need feminism. So that when a teenager, sexual thoughts or not, gets groomed and fucked by anyone, famous or not, that we don't slut shame. We don't treat her as lesser for having sexual feelings.

Sexual thoughts are normal. Fucking underage girls is not.

Remember December?

What a difference a year makes. This time last year I was a mess. Haunted by memories, confused to shit about my love life. Generally fucked up. Nearly incapable of carrying on. 

http://goddessdeeva.blogspot.co.uk/2011/12/happy-fucking-xmas.html?m=1 refers. (sorry about lack of hyperlink, doing this via email)

This year is different. I seem to have banished my December Demons. Evil fucking things they were. Tried to suck the joy out of every waking moment, which by and large they succeeded in doing. Bastards had me paralysed from the 1st to the 31st. For 12 fucking years.

Not this year. This year I am winning. December is just another month, and one I am enjoying.

So, what changed?

Me.

I learned to trust myself. To trust my instincts. To open up. To be  not fearless, but brave. To speak up. To be me.

This has been amazing. Liberating. Illuminating. And it has paid dividends in my life.

I am in what is probably the first healthy relationship of my life. Me and The Lovely connect, respect each other and listen when something is wrong. Then change it. And we laugh and we love. And articulate this. And support. And are unafraid of how we feel. And are happy. No drama, no games, no bottling shit up.

I have a more grown up relationship with my daughter. It's healthy. It's fun, mutually respectful and it's loving. Hasn't been easy to get here, has taken real work and many tears on both sides, but we're there. I'm incredibly proud of the woman she is.

I have the most incredible support network, both in real life and on Twitter. They have supported me through thick and thin, and even more importantly, they have let me support them right back.

Wonderful Owl, Tortoise, Fox and Broad. Thank you. Just thank you <3

I am finally looking forward to Christmas. I can't wait to wear the hat, drape myself in tinsel, decorate the tree and put a bit of Greg Lake on.

I'm going on my works Christmas do this year. And actively looking forward to it.

Yes, I have bad memories of December that stretch back years. But you know what? Fuck them. They will not own me and I'm too busy making new memories to care.

So (always bearing diversity in mind) SEASONS GREETINGS ONE AND ALL!

Enough Is Too Much

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

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

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

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

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

In my life I have:

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

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

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

Had crockery, cutlery and a bookcase thrown at me.

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

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

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

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

Raped repeatedly.

Made to sleep on the floor without a blanket.

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

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

Threatened with death if I told or tried to leave.

Constantly told I was lucky to have him.

Constantly controlled emotionally, physically, financially.

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

It wasn't over even then.

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

He was so plausible.

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

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

Be safe.

Enough isn't just enough.

It's too much.

What Feminism Looks Like To Me

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

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

This blog is all me, for better or worse.

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

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

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

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

Don't believe me?

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

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

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

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

Where bodily autonomy is being attacked.

Where choice is being attacked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where not every company has a domestic abuse policy.

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

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

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

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

And for me it means speaking up and educating.

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

Stand up. Say no. Fight.

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

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

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

And that's what feminism means to me.