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 My Ideas Around Domestic Violence

Hi Marvin,

Been thinking about this stuff for a while.

It is brilliant that you want to build housing for victims of domestic violence, but there are practicalities around it that you may not have considered.

Moving costs, furnishing costs, safety costs.

Having somewhere to move to is a brilliant start, but it is only the start. It costs money to move, and many women will have had their financial independence taken away from them as part of the abuse. They will certainly not have money for removals or deposits or furnishings.

Also, there are issues around ongoing safety and mental health provision, education and publicity.

Don't think for a minute that this email is going to be all about the negative. I have some ideas. Some of them will already be in place but may need drawing together, some of them may not be possible, but I would like it to be the basis for the start of a conversation about how we view abuse in all its forms.

So, housing is just the start. I am overjoyed to hear that you want to build a LOT more of it in   affordable form. But in the meantime? How about when you work with Acorn and the like over the Landlord Charter that you include that all private landlords have to register all their properties they have to let, that a certain percentage must go for social housing (no children, no pets, no DSS is one of the most disheartening things you will ever see when trying to escape) and out of that some of it must go to victims of abuse. Also, there will need to be safeguarding and confidentiality training for landlords and tenants alike.

So, family gets a potential new home. How to get into it? Deposits are expensive, and Landlords rightly expect them as they are taking a risk. How about a deposit guarantee scheme? There probably is one, but I am not aware of it if there is, nor of the criteria or how often it is used.

So, deposit sorted. How do they get there? The abuse victim will likely have been isolated from friends and family and may not know anyone with a van. Anyone she may ask may have links to her abuser so won't be safe. How about we ask removals firms to commit to one free move a month for domestic abuse victims? Wouldn't cost them much and would be a brilliant profile raiser for local businesses. Maybe even do a charter mark kind of thing, like the Royal warrant but saying that they are not prepared to stand by while women get abused to put on their vans. Get art students to design it and posters around it etc.

Could link this to an awareness campaign on domestic violence and gaslighting.

So, they move in. And end up sitting on the moving crates as there is very little furniture they managed to bring with them as it happens. The kids don't have beds yet and mum is wondering if she should just go back so the kids have somewhere to sleep. This is where a grant for furniture would come in, maybe paid in the form of a voucher to be used at the recycled furniture place on West Street or the like. I don't know if this is already happening but if it is, I would like to see it more widely publicised and more parts of the community being involved in a cohesive, joined up way.

So, they move in and have furniture. Safe now? Not always. There are an alarming amount of women who are killed by their ex partners who track them down after they leave refuges. So, we will need security. Proper locks. Proper Windows. Proper alarms that lead somewhere and get a response. A buddy system. That sort of thing. Much like getting removals companies involved, we could get security firms to get involved and get a charter mark logo too.

Better still, get women empowered to run it themselves.

So, got somewhere to live, moved in, have furniture, are physically as safe as possible. Now what?

Healing. I want to see a situation where there is automatic referral and treatment for victims of abuse with proper follow up. No body gets left behind. And yes there will be issues with resources, so train survivors to do it. Give them help. Integrate it as part of the campaign to protect CAHMS. Join it all up. Prevent is about anti radicalisation of our youth. How about this as a radical idea. Stop.

So, not sure how much will be possible and I don't know how much you will agree with but I have a dream of a Bristol where women are safe. Where they know where to go for help and are empowered to support themselves and each other.

I want refuges to be extra safe spaces. I want women to know how to get out and to know that they will be safe and understood if they do and safe and supported and understood if they don't.

I want to see a joined up approach.

I want the violence to Stop.

On 2015 - The Year I Decided To Live

It's that time again where I round up my year. Was wondering about how to do this as usually there is an honours list or a rant or something.

This year I thought I would just let you into some big news.

I decided to live.

See, at the beginning of the year I was really down. Like, proper down. Even though I had a job I loved with UNISON, was happier at home than I have ever been, actually had enough money to go for lunch with my friends now and then and had thrown myself into painting with some success, I had something missing and I didn't know what it was.

I decided to start to do things. Like, normal things. Like going to the cinema and stuff. You know, things. But it wasn't enough. It still all felt, well, temporary. Like it was going to come to an end and I would go back to being a nothing and a nobody and it would be all I deserved.

What changed? Well, not only did I nearly die, I decided to live.

In february, the hilariously funny Bethany Black finally remembered to tell me she was performing in Bristol so I could go and see her (love ya Beth) so Abbi and I cancelled the cinema and went to see her instead.

What followed was a perfect storm of really? Are you fucking with me up there?

Got to the venue, got a VIP booth! (v.cool) It had those horrid air fresheners. You know the ones. Every now and then they spit some shitty version of spring flowers at you like a passive aggressive florist camel. Nasty, disgusting things that sit on your chest and are proper horrible for asthmatics.

Watched Bethany Black perform. Fuck me that woman is funny. If you are only aware of her TV work (which is fab) then you are missing out. She made us howl. Literally lose my breath laughing. I cannot look at a Pringles tin or terriers with tennis balls now and if I hear the words 'run up' I lose my shit all over again. Trust me. Go see her do stand up. If you are asthmatic, take an inhaler.

I did take my inhaler and spent most of the night puffing on it like a tiny blue shisha. I was breathing but not that well.

Then the Perfect Storm brewed a bit more. I went outside after the gig and the cold february air hit me.

Then I lit a cigarette.

And took three steps.

Then collapsed.

At this point I have to thank Abbi again for saving my life. She was calm and brilliant and called the ambulance and rubbed my back so I could feel a link to this mortal coil. I can never ever repay her.

And this is where it gets all decision makey.

I nearly died out there on the Harbourside. I could feel myself leaving. There was no white light, no enigmatic, smiling face of Jesus. I could feel myself leaving my body. I would love to offer comfort by saying that I had a religious experience but I can't. Everything was dark and warm and not scary, but I could feel myself leaving.

I have struggled with suicidal ideation as part of my depression and PTSD for a long while. All of us who have mental health issues, I am willing to bet have had those moments when we think we'd like to just go to sleep and not wake up. Not do anything drastic to cause this, but just to have it all stop. That if we had the chance we wouldn't fight, would just let it go. Just let it be. Just rest.

No one is more surprised than me that I decided to stay, to fight and to live. But that is exactly what I did. I fought and grasped and held onto the feeling of Abbi's hand on my back as my link and I bloody well decided that I was not going gently into the good night. I was Goddess Fucking Deeva and I was Fucking Well Staying.

And I did. And the ambulance arrived and took me to the hospital and it was touch and go a few times and I kept fighting and kept alive and I spent a week at the BRI and I stayed.

I decided that existing wasn't enough.

I decided to live.

I quit smoking. I started eating healthier and took up running. I can now do 5k. I couldn't run for the bus before without needing my inhalers.

I got rid of toxic people in my life. I only have so much of it and I can't afford to have any of it drained from me.

I painted more. I started to actually call myself an artist and that has led to me selling paintings!

I got my kit off for a charity calendar.

I got more tattoos. I stopped letting things slide. I challenged even more than I ever did.

I proposed to The Lovely (and he said yes!)

I signed up to take a degree in Philosophy, Politics and Economics.

I have started learning Korean for when we go there on honeymoon.

I am standing for Labour in the local council elections.

I appreciate every single moment of my life.

Does that mean that I no longer have mental health issues? No. I still have depression, anxiety and PTSD. What it does mean is that when I get low, really low, I know longer think that I want to go to sleep and not wake up because I had a chance to do that and I decided not to. And that has been really liberating.

My life has changed. I am no longer in the same job. I now work in the NHS and spend a lot of my time talking to people who are self harming or have attempted suicide. I have been told I have a gift with them. I don't think I have. I think I am them. Just a version of them that decided to stay.

So Happy New Year to all my readers, followers, friends and family. Know that I am going nowhere and you have to put up with me a bit longer. My wish for you is that you live. Try new things. Get out of your comfort zone. Go to festivals. Get naked. Learn a new language.

We are dead a long time. But before that, we live.

Deeva xxx

On Showing Off The 'Good' Brown People

Hello!

Been a while, hasn't it? Been meaning to write but have been busy with new job and stuff (more on that in next post).

I am still to write my yearly round up, but today I thought I would deal with something that has been bugging me under the surface for a while and today popped its head up and screamed OI! at me.

The idea of debunking racism by being racist. Was chatting with the fab @poppycocktails on Twitter about it and wanted to get our thoughts down coherently. If there are any ideas that aren't coherent, be sure that they are mine and not hers. She was very clear. Me, not so much.

Now, don't get me wrong, I know and will reiterate that it is not the intent of people who are doing this to be vindictive or racist. I know and will reiterate that their intent is good and well meaning, even if the ideas behind their actions are deeply flawed. I know and will reiterate that it comes from a good place and that I will be seen as a baddy for pointing any of this out but you know me. I'm nothing if not honest. Even (especially) if it is going to get me into hot water.

So what has got my goat this time? The idea of the Good Brown Person.

The what now? (I hear you ask)

You know. The Muslims and Sikhs and refugees (gonna count them in as Brown to illustrate my point.) who are 'helping out' with the clean up after the floods in Yorkshire.

Syrians who want to give back to the communities that have shown them kindness.

The Sikhs and the Muslims who have been cooking and cleaning,

'Aren't they great?!' the narrative screams. 'THEY'RE NOT ALL EVIL AND SCARY OR JOB STEALY OR ANYTHING! Look, they are good ones.'

The problem with this is that as well meaning as I truly believe it is, it is wrapped in a subtle racism.

These Sikhs/Muslims/Refugees are not 'giving back' to communities, they are members of those communities and to label them otherwise, to hold them up as a shining example of a religion or a race is othering and missing the point.

By showing off the Good Brown People, (well meaning as it is, and I cannot reiterate this enough) it buys into the very narrative it is trying to debunk. It misses the point that actually, Muslims/Sikhs/Immigrants are not an homogeneous group of people whether they are attacking people at a Eagles of Death Metal gig or sweeping up their front yards in Yorkshire.

All of us have the capacity to be shits or angels or somewhere in between. Most of us, I would suggest fall into the latter category and are somewhere in between. ALL OF US.

So, Lazy Muslims/Sikhs.Immigrants are a thing. Not all of them are out trying to prove that they are not like the others. Holding up Good Brown People to show that shouldn't be a thing. It's desperately sad that we have come to this. No matter how well meaning people are being. (I truly believe they are. I may have mentioned this)

You would do better to argue with those that think that All Muslims Are Terrorists or that All Immigrants Steal Jobs or that All Sikhs Rip You Off and that NONE OF THEM EVER EVEN TRY TO INTEGRATE that actually they are human beings and they are the communities that they have gone in to 'help'. That they are the infrastructure of teachers and doctors and public servants and cleaners and nurses and leaders that idiots think that they are a drain on.

They don't have to integrate into communities. They are the communities.

Even better. Try to stop thinking about the Good Brown People as THEY and start just thinking of US.

I usually have a pithy rejoinder to end a post with but today I am stuck for one. (I'm blaming the work lurgy)

I will just end with the thought that I will stop being pissed off when we, the people, start realising who we, the people, actually are.

David Cameron Face Fucked A Dead Pig - Allegedly

I'll say that again. David Cameron, Prime Minister, allegedly face fucked a dead pig. (You know I'm saying allegedly coz I have to right?)

And nobody was surprised.

Amused, yes. Surprised, no.

And now a picture has emerged which is apparently of a young, naked Cameron (except for bow tie) looking at the pig's head on the lap of someone (don't know who, if it matters it will come out soon enough) with a look on his face of, well, I'm not sure really. Studious readiness it would seem. (though I do wonder, if this picture turns out to be real, what his face looked like on the other 23 pictures that would have been on the roll.)

You know those questions you see on Facebook quizzes, stuff like 'Would you cross the road butt naked RIGHT NOW for £10000?' (well yeah, it's just flesh) well, this is like a really high stakes version of that.

WOULD YOU SLIDE YOUR CHUNGUS INTO A DEAD PIGS MOUTH FOR A CHANCE TO BE PRIME MINISTER?!!

Bit unsubtle?

How about, would you slip your bulbous salutation into the oral cavity of a deceased porcine?

Or maybe Eton mess in pigs cheek anyone?

Well, would you?

Actually, don't answer that. The answer isn't that important. What is important is the responses to the allegations of the dead pork fellatio.

There seem to have been a range of responses. Let's deal with them in turn.

Boys will be boys.

And girls will be girls. Dogs will be dogs and cats will be cats. Dolphins will be dolphins. Actually, dolphins are a bad example as anyone who has seen the video of one wanking himself off with a dead fish will attest to, but generally, being of a specific gender or even species does not mean we should expect sex acts with dead pigs.

He was young

Ah yes. The folly of youth. Who hasn't done silly things when they were younger? Not me. I have done some really stupid things. We all have. I am willing to bet that for none of you, much like myself, they involved having carnal knowledge of sunday's dinner. And now that he is older and Prime Minister he takes that same sense of entitlement and looks down on us and implements policies that kill people. Literally kill people. And he is just getting started on his quest for domination.

It isn't true

Well now, how do you know? If it isn't, how come still no denial and actually, it is something that we have no problem believing. That says a lot about how we view the monied classes. We think that face fucking a dead pig is something they would do.

So what?

Actually this is a good point. Why should we care? Does it matter? the pig was dead so it couldn't object, and who did it harm really?

Yes. It matters. Yes we should care. When the route to power is not through democracy, not through merit and is instead about who is willing to put their old chap in Peppa's mouth then there is something really very wrong. When Lord Ashcroft openly admits that he is doing this because £8m into the tory coffers didn't get him the exact job he wanted then we can no longer hide. We can no longer plead plausible deniablity about where power comes from and how it is distributed.

We always knew that power was for sale in Parliament. We always knew that it was corrupt. We always knew that politics for Conservatives was a game that posh boys played so that when they retired they could make even more money. We knew it and apart from when it suited us (expenses scandal and money for questions) we ignored it.

And now we can't.

Because of Lord Ashcroft, his major league tantrum and the lust for power that became (alleged) sexy time with a dead pig we cannot ignore it any more. This has to be the point where we demand change. This has to be the point where we say 'Enough. You will not fuck us any more. We're not pigs.'

Because if we don't, for generation after generation after generation it won't just be the pig that gets fucked.

Happy Bi Visibility Day!!!!

Says a lot that we need a day doesn't it?

Like for the rest of the year we are skulking in the shadows, being all fancying all genders like a dirty secret.

I know that only yesterday I was travelling the city via the rooftops at night time lest I was showing my bisexuality for all to see. It was a close run thing. I was nearly spotted casting my eye over an attractive redhead with massive boobs.And then there was a woman I liked the look of too. Luckily I styled it out and walked into a lamp post instead.

PHEW.

Some of us are loud and proud. We know who we are and we refuse to hide.

Understated as ever.

Some of us aren't.

Some of us are bullied into hiding who we are by a society that doesn't get it just to save us having to explain about our sexuality again. And again. And again.

Some of us are in a monogamous relationship with someone who is of the opposite gender to us. Happily so. We don't feel the need to cheat. We don't suddenly become straight because partner with penis.

Some of us are not visible because we are gaslighted into believing that it was just a phase by abusive, insecure male partners who cannot believe that they are good enough for us and that by also being attracted to women we bring their masculinity into question and they can't have that.

Also, 'Can I watch?' No. Fuck off.

Some of us get raped as a way to 'make us straight'.

Some of us get beaten up.

Some of us get put into therapy for being 'confused'.

And when we have a relationship with a woman we are called lesbians and men still want to have a go at us.

And oh my gods can the Muckdoc press stop sexualizing and fetishising us please?

We get called greedy like because gender isn't a barrier to attraction we are having ALL OFF TEH SEX. It might be nice but personally I don't have THAT MUCH OF TEH TIMEZ and certainly not ENOUGH OF TEH ENERGY.

Just pick a side. Oh just fuck off. I refuse to play into the gender binary or your bullshit heteronormativity. Just fuck the fuck off.

And *side eyes LGBT community* more needs to be done to include us. So that we are not just this sexy threat who will steal your man and your woman (or non binary person) but we are seen as people. People who just happen to not see gender as a barrier to attraction.

That way we might be safer.

That way we might not have to kill ourselves or do irreparable damage to our mental health.

That way, instead of skulking around like Dr Lesbo and Ms Straight we will be able to just say hello. Here I am.

So happy bi visibility day.

I look forward to the day we don't need it.

Not greedy. Not confused. Just bisexual.

Jeremy Corbyn Ate My Hamster And Other Such Bollocks

Hello.

Been a while hasn't it?

I know I've been neglecting you all and this blog for a while. I've been introspective. Yeah, who knew that was possible in an age where every single one of my thoughts is vomited out onto the ether before it even has a chance to fully form. Certainly not me.

I haven't had the time or energy to write.

Plus, we got kittens so, you know, distracted.

Tonight though Frida Kahtlo and Sylvia Purrlhurst (yes really) are in the other room so they don't lie across the shiny thing demanding attention while I try to write.

So, *pours drink* *sits back* what's been happening?

Well, I got assaulted, got engaged, ended one friendship, reestablished another, signed up for uni, got two toes broken, nearly came to fisticuffs with my gynaecologist (separate posts coming on all that) and we got a left wing Labour Party leader.

I KNOW RIGHT?!?!?

I type it and there is a part of me that still doesn't believe it.

Two years ago I joined the Labour Party and man did I have to eat shit for it. I was a sell out. I was establishment. Naiive, stupid, a dreamer. I couldn't change anything, why waste my time when I could be helping to build a party of the left.

I joined Labour rather than other 'left' parties for three reasons.

a) I'm not a big fan of rampant sexism, rape apology, domestic abuse apology, thuggish behaviour or trans misogyny.

b) the parties the above refers to are so far from being viable or effective it isn't even funny.

c) I have a strong attachment to the Labour Party. It was built by trades unions, it used to be the party of the working class and dammit Blairites, I WANT IT BACK.

And then along came Jeremy.

And the party laughed. And they said, sure, we'll let him on the ballot so we can have a debate, why not?  And on the ballot he went.

And a movement built behind him and he went and bloody won. All the shit I had eaten was worth it.

Then the backlash. Corbyn's bike was Maoist. Corbyn didn't appoint enough women. Corbyn hates rugby. Corbyn HAD CONSENSUAL SEX. Corbyn once flicked a bogey at your nan. The media are shitting themselves and it shows.

And the more they have a go at him the more popular he gets. He's like Obi Wan Fucking Kenobi with that shit. And I like it. I like that he looked like a geography teacher in a borrowed tie at PMQs. I like that he humanised the people the Tories are literally killing with their policies by naming them. I would call it a stroke of political genius but it felt too genuine for that.

I like that he has appointed Shadow Ministers for Mental Health, Young People and Voter Registration.

Though I am waiting for the 'Corbyn set fire to the barn that killed Grace Archer' story.

So I went to my first LP meeting this week. I am going to two more next week. There were lots of new members and first timers there and we all wanted to get stuck in.

Parliament may not be the best way to run the country but its what we have so it can't be ignored.

And for the first time in a very long time I feel hope. Hope that things can, and will, get better. Hope that there may actually be a future.

Hope that people will matter more than banks.

So two messages.

One, for everyone who told me I was stupid to stick with the labour party. Fuck off.

And to the Blairites who have had a hold on my party for 20 years.

You can't keep it. I will fight for it from within as long as I have breath and no amount of sneering or flinching will stop me flying the red flag.

#Thegeographyteachercometh