Wednesday, 26 August 2015

This year my birthday present to me-is me.

I know, I know, that sounds super cheesy and a bit hippy right? But there is definitive proof me and birthdays don’t get on well* (see at bottom of page for self pitying list) and I think I know why. It seems to me that birthdays are another front where my inability to surround myself with loving and respectful people, or (as I worked out in therapy) my inability to consider myself wholly worthy of a decent level of respect sees me spending every August and most of September with a low sinking feeling in my stomach. The pressure is on to organise ‘A Thing’ or have ‘A Thing’ organised for me.
Suddenly Facebook events become a rite of passage for validation. Presents are just another front to be let down on and please don’t get me wrong. I am grateful for anything that people do for me, no one is obliged to celebrate me or celebrate with me, but a Travis CD, really? I have only ever had one friend who seems to have the organisational skill and reckless determination to tackle me and my birthday phobia, who has listened to me cry from bed after being let down by friends, who has rang me up every year since I was 17 and said ‘So what are we doing for your birthday, who made sure I was never forgotten never invisible on my birthday (it’s you, Lucy, in case you’re wondering) and whilst I truly love her for it, those aren’t very good odds are they? One person out of hundreds?

Don’t get me wrong when I say me and birthdays don’t get on. I mean there are good elements of all the birthdays listed below (I mean, who wants to speak to humans anyway, goats are way cooler) and I have had good birthdays. When I was little, birthdays were magical. I got to dress up in a BIG POOFY DRESS and wear a ribbon on my head. I got shiny toys and I got to see family. But most of all, the loving attention that was laid upon me made me feel replenished, special and capable.
I am a fat womanish person with holes in my shoes and no postgraduate degree. Societal norms dictate that I am not first in line for loving attention. So without that loving attention coming from others, what do I do? Well here comes the super cheesy idea- maybe I give myself that attention? Maybe you could give it to yourself too?
Here is my action plan
1. Take it from Akua Naru “self love is the very first romance”
Everyday I am trying my best to remind myself that I am in a life long relationship with myself and that I am a gift that only improves with age. Every year I know more, try new things, meet new people, and achieve new things. Even if it’s getting out of bed, making it to work, writing this blog post. I am reminding myself that the aging process is not negative and that I am a worthy person all year round.
2. Forgiveness is a virtue
Forgiving myself for being imperfect in a world that demands an oppressive standard, forgiving myself for not doing enough work or forgetting to pick up milk. I am doing my best to look upon myself with forgiving eyes because like it or not, I am stuck with myself for the long haul.
3. Enjoying the ride
Everything I achieved I achieved in this body with this brain. When I am distracted by negative and toxic messages about my self worth I am being drained of my energy. Energy to be an attentive partner, energy to be a supportive colleague, energy to organise politically, energy to confront the trauma in my past. I have started looking at baby photos. I have started making lists of my adventures. I have started spending time with the old friends who I can laugh with at shared memories. But most of all I have started have started celebrating my life in its current state, no apologies. Being at war with myself is sustainable.
This year I am my own birthday present. I am ensuring that I lavish myself with loving attention, that I feel replenished, special & capable. This year I am wearing a BIG POOFY DRESS and a ribbon in my hair. I am taking responsibility for myself and that is scary, yeah. But god, the odds of getting through the month are so much better when I’m not at war with the person in the mirror.

*1. There was the year when I spent my birthday on a family trip in Wales with some family members, wandering lonely and only comforted by the presence of goats, stranded with a little family I wasn’t really a part of (seriously you wanna see the pictures from the disposable camera taken on that holiday, a picture of me with a dog, a picture of some rabbits, a picture of a pony, some more rabbits, the cloudy Welsh sky, a goat, two goats, three goats). 2. There was the year I spent my birthday in bed crying after being let down by a friend. 3. There was the year a parent forgot how old I was. 4. There was the year a family member forced me to have a ‘tea party’ against my will & when they then proceeded to get drunk and to flail around the house to a soundtrack of Bob Marley and my father saying (louder than he thought) ‘doesn’t she (me) have any friends?’. 5. There was the year a controlling partner held ‘our’ birthday party on their term and on my birthday I became ‘& co’. 6. There was the year my foster mother forced me to spend my birthday watching her cry in a KFC car park, and gave me a box of chocolates & and old bottle of perfume in the gift bag I gave her some Mother’s Day presents in. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not about the money or the gifts, but she got a bloody grant on my birthday. 7. There was the year all my ‘friends’ at my primary school didn’t come to my birthday sleepover because I was the fat kid with a single mum and we lived in a council house. 8. There was the year when I had the flu & a family member organised a meal in the local Italian restaurant & shouted at me for not dressing up enough so I spent the day half crying. 9. There was the year when I threw myself a part, had a panic attack and thought I was dying.

On women only train carriages

I often utilise women only spaces (officially ones or unofficial ones) to avoid harassment in public & at social events (toilets, gyms, kitchens at parties, clothes shops) and, you know what? It works. The issue of public transport is the issue of choice. Now, it would be real simple if you and your buddies could make the honourable choice to stop flexing your metaphorical members in a cat call-off on a Friday night, but my experience has concluded that you can’t. So the idea of women only coaches on trains and tubes (proposed for consultation with women by Jeremy Corbyn) is one simple (by no means 100% solve-all option to give women a choice to be in a carriage with no men in it. Now, whilst there may be problems with this idea (that would be useful  for women to discuss together) men have taken to twitter to air their disgust at this policy idea. 

I have been harassed on public transport since the age of 14. Telling me that this ‘could easily happen to men’ even though it doesn’t is telling me that I, at age 14 on the train from Southport to Appley Bridge deserved to be cornered and & have middle aged men interrogate me about body.

Because the truth of the matter is in the last eleven years I have grown to expect to be sexually harassed and assaulted on public transport with very little support from other passengers. And when that support comes it is usually from other women.

Every time I have been harassed on public transport it has been (to my knowledge) by a man 99.9% of these instances the man has been white 99.9% of instance he has been unchallenged.

-It was a man who repeatedly tried to touch me on an empty platform in Liverpool when I was 21.

-It was a man who harassed me on a weekly basis on the 395 bus from Ormskirk to Skelmersdale, who got annoyed when I refused to speak to him and followed me part of the way home when I was 19.

-It was a man who rubbed his genitals on my hip on the London Underground when I was 18.

-It was a man who intercepted another man who was drunkenly propositioning me at Ormskirk bus station only to then sexually harass me for the entire journey home when I was 22. Imagine that- getting sexually harassed whilst you’re being sexually harassed.

-It was a group of boys (age 12-16) who spat at me, threw food and drinks at me & chanted names at me every morning on the school bus in Shevington when I was 14.

-It was a man who touched my body without my consent on the 143 bus in Manchester when I was 23. And who got the funny looks when I shouted over to my friend  ‘Ew this man is trying to grope me’? Oh yeah, me.

-It was a man who rubbed his thigh against my leg and read over my shoulder on the bus last night.

-It was a group of four men who made comments about my fat body this morning at the coach station.

I am 25.

I have been spat at, cornered, followed, groped, shouted at, whispered to, blocked from moving, stared at, spoken about, had pictures taken of me, been called names, been coerced into conversation, been sexually shamed & had my belongings confiscated.

I have tried ignoring it, challenging, discussing it, reporting it, shouting back, glaring, asking other passengers for help & physical confrontation.

Any whilst it might hurt a few feelings for men who have decided that this is ‘segregation’ (which is not only pretty flagrant use of a racially charged word but just horrifically incorrect) or that ‘all carriages should be harassment free’ (yeah, they should, but erm, they aren’t & I don’t see you looking up from your copy of the Telegraph to challenge other men on their behaviour) I can’t help but feel cheated.

Yet again men’s views are privileged above women’s safety and autonomy. That same privilege that comes into play when a man decides his desire to touch a woman comes before her permission. Your feelings are hurt?  Your FEELINGS are hurt. Fine. That doesn’t make your beliefs correct. This isn’t Dawson’s Creek. This is the real world. And I have a life time of research called ‘Being a Woman on Public Transport’ to support my ideas.

So I’m sorry if the idea that women want to be safe from the daily barrage of crap you throw at us is hurtful. It seems so many of you are moved to tweet, maybe whilst on public transport, maybe whilst ignoring the awkwardness of a woman being harassed three seats down.

I am tired of pretending to be on the phone, pretending to know other women on public transport to defuse harassment situations and most of all I am tired of pretending to care about your feelings. Close your legs,  get your hand off my thigh, log off twitter and shut up.

Monday, 10 August 2015

On Jump Stories of Life, Love and Fear by Paula Kelly-Ince, justice & quiche.

In university, where Paula & I met (studying creative writing), each semester we had an assignment entitled 'Reading as a Writer'. And sometimes, when I wasn't too busy protesting or talking about representation, I did the assignment. We analysed the work of playwrights, poets, screen writers, novelists and memoirists. We discussed their form their structure, what themes we would apply to our own work and how, if the work was effective and (audible gasp) what we would improve. 
Now, it's one thing telling your classmates their time travelling-rapping-werewolf-romance novel would be a more consistent read if the dialogue was tighter, but comrades, it is an entirely different bag of fish to critique a "real" writer.  A "real" writer with that elusive published masterpiece (following film adaptation, cult classic t shirt references). Yes, obviously I chose George Orwell.

Believe me. I am picky. I may not be Judy Blume myself but I can sniff out holes in stories at the speed a quiche disappears at a family buffet (dead quick). I guess the reason I'm saying this is that when I read Jump I felt that I was reading as a writer, reading the work of an established and effective writer. Paula writes beautiful and delicate stories of people (mainly women, woop woop feminism) at their extremes. These circumstances that life pushes up to live through, documented in such a grounded style. 
And that's the point. Paula's work is effective because it's written about women I could know. Working class situations we recognise, grief, crushes and money problems, community. Struggle, really. How often is it that we see our own experiences played out on the page interspersed with magic realism and hilarious dialogue? Never. 
On reading Mr Phillips I  was transported to my own teenage years. And with Paula's gentle, yet uncompromising humour I began to recognise the hilarity of youth. The story plays out before you and after all you can do is think God, do you remember -. Even now I spend time too wrapped up in social justice causes (arguing with Tories on the internet) to consider the relationship between activism and fiction. But I believe healing is part of justice and Paula's work was, for me, healing. 
Jump is a story that rings with heartbreak and shines light on an area so often wrought with shame and secrecy.  Tara is a story that twinkles with promise and the unsaid. The fact that these three stories can sit side by side in unison is a testament to Paula’s skill, precision and bravery. It is brave to speak out, to construct these voices that whisper truths to us, in a world that seeks to scare us into silence. 
Seeing the stories of working class people, especially women written down, it's transformative. Sometimes, just existing in a world where you are abhorred and tested is radical in itself. Depicting the stories we are too scared or embarrassed to tell is one step further. If doing so with elegance & care is not justice I don't know what is. 

  • To buy Jump (for less than £1!) click here Content note for still birth and child death in Jump, slut shaming in Mr Phillips. 
  • For weekly updates on Paula's hilarious life and musings on feminism and parening you can follow Paula's blog.
  • To keep up to date with Paula's writing you can like her on facebook or follow her on twitter @paulakellyince.

Tuesday, 14 April 2015

# 1 things you thought would be different in the queer community that aren't - Productivity

  Like many people with mental health problems, disabilities & addictions & regressions I live in fear of someone asking me THAT question
'What have you been up to?'
1. Because they are usually only asking this so they can tell me about their new job/house/other thing that garners them 'productive human' privilege in painful, smug, insensitive detail.
2. Because when I answer honestly 'Nothing' it seems to unsettle them.
3. Because what I have been up to is eating nutella out the jar, crying & harboring resentment towards everyone in the world who doesn't feel as shit as I do.

I've not been writing. (In fact I've not been writing, working, smiling, exercising, socializing or any other verbs that are expected of me).

I've not been writing for a while now. Not writing poetry, not writing job applications, not writing much of anything. In university my favorite tutor once told me that writer's block was just ego. As if your particular words are so precious that you can only pour them out over a page when they have crystallized into a literary masterpiece. Get over yourself, learn some humility, develop drafts. But I don't have writer's block, not least because (like that tutor) I don't believe in it.

 I have life block.

I have life block & I can't talk about it to people within the wider queer scene because our dominant ideas about mental health center around palatable, imagined try-hard-activists-who-somehow-manage-to-struggle-through-their-problems-to-contribute-in-a-meaningful-way. And I am not contributing to shit. I am regressing & retreating  & relapsing into behaviors I used to need cushion myself from immediate dangers I don't even experience any more. I am breaking. Every aspect of my life seems to some how be on the verge of complete failure, I am in a grey area of my own inability to human, And if I'm honest it's fucking sad & boring  enough without feeling like I need to create a long list of imaginary shit I've been up to.

The thing I've noticed most by my newly found desire to spend all day alone in my bedroom crying is this; productivity as a superior trait is not a concept that is challenged enough. And that little question 'What have you been up to?' eats into me, sets my brain desperately searching for a truthful response because I don't want to lie to you when you ask me. But given that you just spent ten minutes explaining how busy you've been (and leaving spaces for me to make impressed noises) I kinda need to. I know this because when I don't I see a flicker in your eyes that tells me it's not only that I'm not contributing to the conversation, I'm not contributing to the community. And that you think that makes me (get ready for some oppressive nonsense) 'Lazy'. Surely I have Things To Do? Surely I have Ways To Be Productive?

The fact of the matter is; this bullshit around productivity is capitalist, lifestyleist cuntery. And I've let it make me feel bad for too long. So I've stopped engaging in circles where capital is awarded to the people running the most zine making, lesbian knitting, yogurt weaving, beard recycling, vegan whittling, post grad smoking, guitar protesting workshops/marches/petitions/meetings.

 I'm not even mad, kids, I'm just opting out of this verbal wankathon of Judith Butler/<insert relevant event>, I'm just sitting this one out. 

It's not that I have no desire to do anything, it's that the big tasks in my life are so big that every time I think I might go for a walk or write a letter or take a shower my brain says 'Hey, what about all these things you should be working on/obsessing over?'

And here we come to my main point of writing this. I have decided that I'm stepping out of this unacknowledged privileging of productivity (in queer spaces particularly). And instead of meeting, and advising, and workshoping I'm going to give myself permission to do nothing. And I'm going to do nothing until I feel like trying another verb; healing (whatever the fuck that means).

I've lost count of the amount of times I've been knocked off my feet by wave upon wave of regression & relapse & I know I'm not the only one who is struggling to stand up and dust myself off to try again. I think those of us who experience life block, whose lives fold in on themselves every few months or years (who suddenly find themselves unable to leave the house or answer their emails or speak to family or friends, or go to work, or eat properly or wash or get dressed, those of us whose parents don't financially pick up & put us back on our feet, those of us whose conditions aren't curable) need to take time to recognize that our mental health problems, our day to day struggles aren't what most people are talking about when they are discussing mental health. Because recovery for us isn't a story ark, it's us bracing ourselves against the storm long enough to try and function (whatever the fuck that means to us) for a short while.

If you know that you, like me, fear that horrible question, and other variations of it (no, I don't know where my 'career' is going, and I don't want to hear about yours, thanks) let's make a pact. Let's decide instead to ask each other about how we feel (and genuinely care about the answer in a non-condescending manner), congratulate each other on getting out of bed, high five over surviving life thus far, even if we have gotten here in week old pyjamas with stains on them  and our friends/family/partners have become repulsed by our endless ability to fuck up and freak out.

 Even if we've not written anything for a while.  

Monday, 23 June 2014

Being a care leaver, being a survivor.

What does it mean to be a care leaver? 
In policy terms it means a relevant child or former relevant child who has been under the care of their local authority as a young person. For the purposes of our everyday lives I will discuss what being a care leaver means on a practical, emotional level and what it means within society. These discussions may not be confined or limited to purely legal definitions depicted in government policy.

The experience(s) of young people in care is one of the most important  measurements of society’s values.We need to talk about our experiences in care, because they shape who we are after care. We are taught how and where we fit into society whilst in care. But we also learn about how society functions in relation to us because being in care means you are very aware of how the state treats some of its most vulnerable citizens. The entire country’s ideas and values are built around the government and politics of the time (whether people agree or disagree with them is less important than the fact they exist.) And because so much of our interactions with the local government are taken up by initiatives and new schemes (does anyone remember free laptops?), we understand which parts of our lives society sees as important and which parts it chooses to forget or ignore.

 Abuse, representation and reality
For example of young people in care being yardsticks of values I will discuss a time paedophilia and child abuse were less discussed, engaged with and investigated. An instance of this is the widely discussed case of Jimmy Savile, whose celebrity status and power gained him entry to the homes and lives of vulnerable young people in care.  In the 2012 documentary produced by the BBC entitled ‘Jimmy Savile What the BBC knew’ the  investigators spoke with people who were in care and abused by (or witnessed abuse by) Savile.  Young women were often taken out in Savile’s car and didn’t realise that his actions were abuse, some even believed them to be romantic. In a lot of cases it seems safe to say that the lack education on relationships that these young women received contributed to them believing the interactions they had were healthy, and the abuse they endured was a ‘trade off’ for escape from their homes and for getting some attention that made them feel important. This, along with the workers in the homes being in awe of Savile, and the Police dismissing the young people's reports meant that many of these young people, now middle aged and older have never spoken about their experiences.

So celebrity culture, the police and the care system created a free pass for Savile to abuse young women. 

Obviously some things have changed now. There is policy in place by for both the police and local authorities that should prevent this situation from happening. It is worth noting that this policy is often overlooked, or ignored by the police in situations relating to rape. Sometimes those who work with care leavers and young people in care don't get given the practical skills to put the policy into practice. This isn't the fault of those people, but rather a result of policy being written with lots of jargon and little understanding of how we live our lives.  Thus we see that the power dynamics of young people in care (with little or no power and understanding of the love and care they're entitled to) and adults with power over young people means that abuse occurs often. And just as often is goes unrecognised. 

Most recently there was the representation of (again sexual) abuse in the  Channel 4 drama The Unloved, this time they showed a young women being abused by a member of staff. The media often uses young people in care as a story, they sensationalise our experiences and turn us into statistics to scare their readers, but the media is often silent on other forms of abuse and the rest of the difficulties that face young people in care and care leavers.

Why abuse. why now?
I’ve had many interactions with other care leavers, at special events, and just personal chats and what seems most common is the widespread experience of abuse, before, during and after they have been taken into and left care. Obviously sexual abuse is important, but I’d like to define a few other kinds and open discussion about one. Physical abuse is  violence and physical harm, neglect is failing to meet a persons care needs, emotional abuse is bullying a person verbally, psychological abuse is more commonly understood as ‘mind games’. Abusers can be people in authority or our peers, it can happen at any point and all abuse is wrong.

 Most of the people in care I have spoken to and all of the care leavers I have gotten to know (and myself) have experienced at least one of these forms of abuse, usually more. I’ve never attended an event for care leavers that didn't turn into those present talking about their horrible experiences. Drunken foster parents, possessions stolen, or kept, physical harm, blame, lies told to social workers. I think one of the most important things I can say is- I believe them all. Care leavers and young people in care are so often not believed, so often people tell us that we ‘must’ have done something to provoke abuse towards us, but abuse is always the choice of the person committing it. We are not responsible for their actions. Because of the poor resources and structures that aren't effective we often have to work very hard to keep ourselves safe. That may be one of the reasons why so often care leavers live with a fight or flight response. We have strange habits, we may appear unusually protective of our possessions or unusually relaxed about them.We may get very upset when certain topics are mentioned, or seem very detached when we talk about topics that other people think are sensitive. We might feel scared that our homes and our things are going to be taken from us, this isn't because we're unnecessarily paranoid, but because we have been taught that this is what we deserve and should expect.

 Our experiences of abuse are real, they are difficult to process and we carry them with us as care leavers absolutely every single day. This is not to say we are weak, or we can’t let go of the past, or we can’t form healthy relationships, but that we have a very different experience to our peers who have not been in care. Of course other people can encounter all the forms of abuse I have listed above, so what’s the difference? 

 What's new?
Being 'looked after' by the state/government means we are automatically at the mercy of whoever is in power. And the people in power may change and have different ideas about how to run the country, and how much funding the local authority(/ies) should have. In fact, from what I have seen, funding problems are more consistent than any scheme or project. Funding is reallocated or the terms of receiving it are changed, it's suspended, lessened or replaced with alternatives but this usually means the same thing- less money for those who need it. This is the same for all who need the help of the government, from people's benefits to hospitals to libraries. Very often care leavers are seen as an unnecessary expense.

I don’t want care leavers to feel oppressed or like they have to put up with endless suffering, but I feel it’s really important that we name the harm and sadness caused to our lives by the ever disappearing funding and the bureaucracy we encounter in just trying to live our lives. I think we should call it 'administrative neglect'. Our needs as care leavers are being ignored by the administration the people high up who run the government.

 This is not about the people who have cared for us, or social workers, it’s not a personal problem, it’s a problem with the system. It's a problem with the people who decide that our local communities can cope with millions of pounds less. The problem becomes real when the local government decide us, care leavers, are the best place to start cutting that money from.  This is offensive and unfair because the person deciding to cut funding has never lived in a kids home, has never run away from foster parents, doesn’t understand that university funding is sometimes the only reason some of us consider university. They are not qualified to make decisions about our lives, (but, just like the examples from before) because they hold power over us they are able to make choices about our lives that negatively effect us.

Why does it matter?
There’s a very important reason for us to recognise the failures and abuses that have happened; they impact our quality of life and our mental health, our aspirations, our physical health, our living conditions, our opportunities and self-esteem. Without understanding how these problems have changed our lives we can't begin to think about recovery. Much of the time care leavers attempt to go on with their lives like other people do, we get jobs, have families, or form relationships, but there’s always something that seems different. Often these walls of a life that we’ve built for ourselves fall down, and we feel unable to perform the average tasks to keep our lives flowing normally. It can be as simple as being scared to open letter, or as complicated as being scared to interact with the state via the NHS and not seeking adequate medical help. When this happens, we blame ourselves. Self-blame can tear lives apart, can make us believe that we didn’t try hard enough, or that our interactions with drugs, or with the judicial system are just incidents we’ve brought on ourselves. The reason we need to recognise administrative neglect is that these cuts often mean that there's not enough resources to teach us how keep our lives going, and how to mend them when they break. If that is the case, then the system of one person holding power over another is harming people. If, like I said earlier, young people in care and care leavers are the yardstick by which we can measure the values of society then what does that say about those values? It often seems like the media who were so interested in reporting about how many of us are 'victims' of sexual abuse don't want to report when powerful people in our country make cuts that make our lives worse.

So where does this leave us? 
Well often care leavers will find solace in another community, it might be friends we’ve met through college or university, it might be a community based around drugs, or other young parents, or a political community. I’m not here to say that any of those are wrong, we do what we need to do to build ourselves a family, to make decisions for ourselves, to get support.

One of my communities is feminism, (women’s rights) which is tied up a lot in children’s rights too. In  feminist discussions people who have experienced abuse aren’t called ‘victims’, they’re called survivors. If there’s one thing I would encourage all care leavers to do it is this- the next time you think about how you have been treated, or any abuse received and begin to feel weak remind yourself that being stood where you are now means that you survived it. You have overcome it. And though there might be nights when you feel anxious or scared, though you’re not always managing to juggle adult life just you, getting out of bed this morning (or staying in bed for a rest) means that you are surviving.

I don’t believe that there will be big changes to the government structure that will allow young people and care leavers to exist free from administrative neglect. But I do believe that the idea of a society where people in care are treasured and not condemned to suffering through administrative neglect is an idea worth hanging on to. After all, we’re all allowed to hope, right? Until the point when this is a reality I’ll stand tall with all of the other people who have suffered abuse in care and as care leavers and say- I’m not a care leaver, I’m a care survivor. Because you can take the kid out of care, you can't take the care system out of the kid, and if I'm going to carry so many experiences with me, I want to do it as someone who is still standing, I want to do it as a survivor.

Wednesday, 26 February 2014

If I should die today...

If I should die today, I trust my housemate to hide my sex toys from my grandmother.
I give him full permission to redistribute my lesbian erotica to a closeted queer,
with sad eyes, and a quiet smile.
May it help them learn the shape of their pleasure
and some new ways to refer to the vagina.

If I should die today, you can keep my glasses,
if you promise to look through them once in a while,
take a day off now and again, and remember to breathe.
If I should die today I give you permission buy yourself flowers for no reason.
To sing in in the shower, and steal vegetables from big supermarket brands.

If I should die today, I hope my ex-lovers speak to one another and compare love letters.
I hope they forgive me for my bad spelling.
I hope they remember the nights when we swapped dreams for kisses
when the rising sun was our own personal spotlight.
If I should die today, I hope every orgasm you ever have
feels likes a personal gift from whatever god or political figure you believe in.

If I should die today, I hope you all remember how unapologetically
fat and queer and northern and working class I was.
Should you ever forget please please check my tumblr.
If I should die today, take a memory each from my memory jar.
Plant it in your pocket, grow your own happiness,
dance to LCD Soundsystem.

If I should die today, I know I'd want to be remembered as
flawed and fabulous.
So there are some things you should know.
I never really stopped thinking of Pluto as a planet.
Sometimes I was too tired to listen to you, so I just nodded.
If I should die today, remember that I would never lose an argument.
I'd just lose people.

Remember there were times when I drank too much and cried on buses,
times when I gave crumbs instead of talk to people sitting on pavements.
Times when I watched nurse Jackie rather than reading.
If I should die today, in the last seconds before I pass,
I'll be pissed off for not knowing how the novel I'm reading ends.

If I should die today, there's a story I wrote called Sirens.
It says everything I couldn't.
If I should die today, please don't stop writing letters to me.
If I should die today there's no special wisdom I can impart
no beautiful metaphor I can create
no staggering philosophy.

If I should die today, please mix my ashes with glitter,
throw them at homophobes, and tories and

anyone else who ever acts like your existence is worth less than the organic hand soap at their children's private school.
There are no words I can write in my living room at five past nine on a Tuesday night that will ever describe your worth.
But you are doing just fine. 

If I should die today, please wear fancy dress to my funeral.
Please remember not to pray for me, 
not to name a star after me 
or justify bad decisions with 'that's what she would have wanted'. 
I will only ever want beautiful things for you. 
(This includes revolution.)

If I should die today plant a tree in your garden for me, 
call it hope, 
teach yourself how it comes back to life every spring. 

Monday, 27 January 2014

SPAnswers- g-spot orgasms, masturbation shame, and the possibility of poly.

How can you bring up polyamory within the context of a long term, so far monogamous relationship with minimum pain?

Ellie-I think the best thing to do is have an honest open discussion with your partner about how you feel. If they are shut off to the idea then it’s only fair not to push them into something that they don’t want. If they are willing to discuss or try it but aren’t sure they want to commit to the idea them perhaps start with some very clear rules, guidelines and promise that if they get uncomfortable it can be re-evaluated. I think the main thing is communication and honesty.

 I'm a person with a vagina and I'm confused about orgasms. Should I be striviing for a g spot orgasm? I've never had one but my current partner's ex did and they have kind of implied that a clitoral orgasm is a cop out.

 Ellie- Very few people actually have g-spot orgasms, and very few people without a vagina know this. Most people can only have clitoral orgasms, and most people who manage to orgasm during penetrative sex often only do due to the grinding of the clitoris against their partners that can happen. It’s not uncommon not to have had a g-spot orgasm, many people never will, and some might randomly one day during sex. You can’t know whether you ever will have a g-spot orgasm or not, but the orgasms you are having are not cope outs, and are 100% valid

K-There is nothing wrong or less valid about clitoral orgasms, and many many people with vaginas (myself included!) can’t have g-spot orgasms. I personally feel it’s not worth the effort of trying to find an elusive g-spot orgasm when I already know how to have a great clitoral one, but if you feel a g-spot orgasm might be better for you, or is something you want to have, then by all means try to achieve it. Don’t worry if you can’t have them though, or if you just don’t really want to - your clitoral orgasms are just fine! When it comes to your orgasms, go for what YOU want, not what your partner thinks you should be doing

I feel ashamed when I masturbate (I'm a woman). Is this common?

Ellie- This is very very common. As someone who is very open about sex myself, and the fact that I enjoy sex, I very very rarely masturbate simply because I feel ashamed of it. I wish I didn’t. I often feel like a bad feminist for feeling ashamed of it, but unfortunately women aren’t always taught that it’s an acceptable and normal part of sexuality. It’s common but not something you should have to feel. If you can get over the feelings of shame then go for it, and have fun, if you can’t then it’s not your fault. There are even really cute apps designed to help you feel more normal about masturbating, and encouraging more women to feel comfortable doing it!

Pip- It's really common! The thing about sexual shame is that it's not just something limited to conservative communities or religious ones, but because we're socialized amongst and into these things, it effects us too. Sometimes, experiencing sexual shame can make me people feel like their letting the team down, or they're 'not really' feminist or sex positive. But feminism and sex positivity aren't about never feeling internalized sexual shame or misogyny, they're about a remedy to those things, they're about recognizing the causes for them. My advice is 
1. allow yourself to feel ashamed. Let this be OK, for now. Stressing yourself out or berating yourself for feeling ashamed isn't going to improve the situation. 
2. start to re-negotiate your relationship to your genitals and masturbation. This could be by setting some time aside to speak to a councillor, or writing a list of all the reasons masturbation is a positive thing for your body, I suggest looking at some of Dodson and Ross' videos and articles., they even have this handy play list for overcoming shame-
3. work up to seducing yourself. Like any sex lif, the one you have with yourself is susceptible to becoming stale or repetitive. If you feel you can make the time and you're ready to spend some time simply exploring your body then go for it. Light some candles, dress up, watch, read, or listen to something that makes you feel sexual. 
Most importantly, remember that whatever you do is fine. You can masturbate or not, orgasm or not, share your body sexually or not. This is not about how you 'should' feel, it's about how you want to feel. 

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