You are a person.

You have a womb. It’s amazing. You don’t have to use it.

Estrogen makes you energetic, flirty and tolerant of male bullshit. It puts rose-tinted glasses over patriarchy so you think ah, it’s not that bad, and go out and get laid. I suffer not so much from PMS, but from the estrogen crash post ovulation when one day I wake up and everything looks as it is.

Whenever you’re told to put others first on exactly the terrain where you’re most vulnerable, that’s patriarchy.

Unless you believe women should be submissive, don’t subordinate your rights to anyone else’s. Always fight your corner, you’ve got to.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. A pro-women left or the left can fuck off.

And, if you tolerate this. Then your daughters will be next.

………………

This time last week I stood in my Alice in Wonderland skirt and red cardigan, one hand on hip and the other pointing a finger up in the air and then in his face. Words tumbled out of my mouth, head fizzing, rage, euphoria, in response to the inevitable catcall-cum-oi-you! as I attempted to cross the checkpoint, beyond which is my childhood home, and our newish neighbour, the embassy of a certain country. I turned my back on the armed men and walked into the road past a cream coloured dog lazing in the sun. I exited the theatre – a woman answering back is always theatre –  to the sound of his voice no one passes here without my permission! diminishing into the distance. Once inside, I placed my hands on the table and shut my eyes, adrenaline still pumping boom boom boom under my collar bone. I swallowed. I smiled. Within an hour, I felt bigger. Surprised, I laughed. I’ve walked a little taller, everywhere, since.

…………………….

I don’t want to watch anything featuring women being subordinated, hit, abused or raped. I only want to watch women doing people things. Not enduring patriarchy over and over, over and over. The fact that so many men, and so many women, get off on female subjugation is so screwed up. We don’t talk about this enough.

Twenty years ago I thought porn was fine. I’ve gone 180 on this. Ban it all.

An early memory: I opened the box and inside was a plastic thing with arms and frozen features, eyes. I turned it round, on its back, a slot for a tape which made it go mama. My shoulders sank in my corduroy dungarees as I sat legs tucked under on the living room floor. Later I used the box as a step to reach the sofa. Much better.

I played with cars and trains. I’d assemble a track on the landing and wizz them round and round. I played F-Zero and Mortal Kombat II on SNES. I did and still would, whip your ass with Kitana. Finish; Him.

Why are there so many more You Tube vids of male characters doing finishing move combos on female characters, than the other way round, hmmm?

If I ever was given a Barbie, I’d hold my tongue, fake smiling a thank you, eyes sparkling with thoughts of later. When they’d all left, I’d take it upstairs, cut off its hair, fill the sink with toothpaste and shampoo, dunk, then string them up by the legs. I still don’t like sharing a room with dolls.

I often wonder, if every woman had a choice, how many would have a child? Forty years here and I’m still puzzled by why anyone would want to do that to themselves. Maybe one day, I’ll get it. Or maybe I never will.

………………..

Once upon a time in a land…. There was a tribe. Women were told to shut up, to keep the group together, to not be Other, the bad guys, just say the right words, our words or shut up.  Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Misogyny is the wing-man of fascism, said Ece Temelkuran

Emperor! Your cloak is just…I mean, wow. Nice try, fucker.

You come in guises patriarchy, oh yes. But I see you.

Witch, Bitch, Slut, ?

Suck my dick said no woman ever.

Nobody is coming to save you. You’re going to have to fight.

The whole victim thing? We’re better than that.

First they come for you on carpets. Then as footsteps on tiles. Then they come for your holes.

When you find yourself staring beyond your reflection, frozen, hand gripping the basin, heart thumping in chest, telling yourself this is OK, this discomfort, I’ll work through this, I’ll learn, it’s on me, it’s supposed to be like this, that’s fuckity fucked fucked.

You know when the voice says this is really uncomfortable, but I shouldn’t say anything then you really should say something.

They want us to stop saying no, you see. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO FUCK. OFF. 

They

Want

Us

To

Stop

Saying

No

Slam the door!

In their faces, 

Slam

The 

Door

There is no glory in submission.

Slam. That. Door.

……………..

A cool breeze. Sun on your face. Let your hair go in the wind. That scalp, breathe.

Hey, you. Woman, I.

You’re the driver, it’s your life. You can do whatever you want, go wherever you want. I love you, I believe in you, I really do. Let’s go.

You are not alone.