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I Was Going to Write a Piece of Fluff About My New Car

When a person in a Facebook group I belong to mentioned how tired she was of people forgiving Joe Biden for his sexual harassment.

And I realised how tired I was. Of supposedly good men’s bad behaviour. Of “it’s no big deal” and/or “it was a different time.”

It is a big deal and who gives a fuck when it was? It should never have been okay to touch women without their permission, to harass women, to rape women, to hold them back because they were/are women.

Adam likes history. It’s inevitable with a grandfather whose PhD is in History and who was a lecturer/head of department at Ulster University before he retired. He still lectures on history, actually. In any case, with a grandfather like that an a father with a BA in history, it would be weird if Adam didn’t like history.

So we read Horrible Histories together. We both really like them. And all through them, from prehistoric man to the Romans, Greeks, Spartans, Victorians, Edwardians etc etc etc from the beginning of time until right now women have been hassled, held down, held below. Made something less.

And we are tired.

We have fought and screamed and been ignored and we won’t be ignored any more.

But I’m also tired of other things.

I’m tired of Trump and his stupid fucking wall and his racism, sexism and bigotry.

I’m tired of Brexit and Theresa May standing in front of Parliament lying about what her government has done to children, the elderly, and the disabled. Pushing back, with lies, against the truth Jeremy Corbyn was saying about the number of children, elderly, and disabled people are now living below the poverty line. You read that right. Below.

I’m tired of the so called “ruling classes” who have no idea what the rest of do to survive. Who have no idea what it’s like to wonder if you can pay the rent or the heating or the electric. Who have never wondered how they are going to buy their children milk.

I’m tired of all of them. I want to send all of them into the sun. I want to pass a law that no one can run for office until they are made to live on what a single working mother with two kids in this country makes on her zero hours contract and the benefits that haven’t been cut. Yet.

I have no idea how the Tories won in 2005 and stayed in office all of this time.

I have no idea how Trump won. And I have very little faith he’ll be gone in two years.

I don’t have the answer.

But I’ll keep shouting.

And being tired.

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You’re Damn Right Their Lives Are Ruined

and it’s no one’s fault but their own.

Oh wait…and their parents.

And their teachers.

And coaches.

And anyone else who influenced their lives and never said to them “silence does not equal consent” and “drunk is not a free pass” and “so you can throw a freakin’ ball, so what?”

You know who else’s life is ruined? That girl’s. And any other girl they may have done this too that has never been found out.

I am not and have never been a radical feminist and I never will be.

But I am fucking sick and tired of rape culture and victim blaming.

I am fucking sick and tired of the belief that being able to throw or kick or whatever a fucking ball makes you a hero.

It doesn’t. It makes you someone who can kick or throw or whatever a fucking ball.

Real heroes don’t rape girls and post the pictures on the internet.

Real heroes stop the people doing what those boys did.

I wonder where that poor girl’s heroes where that night. Apparently that town doesn’t have even one.

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Here’s The Thing About Me and Feminism

I am, indeed, a feminist. I believe in equal rights for all humans regardless of race, creed, colour, gender, sexual orientation, etc etc etc. I believe that the feminists did great things in the middle to end of the 20th century to let me be the kind of feminist I am.

What kind of feminist am I?

The kind that enjoys running her own company and enjoys cooking for her family.

The kind that appreciates the right to vote and appreciates when she’s cleaned her house.

The kind that knows there is still work to be done and knows we’ve come quite far.

What brought this on? Two things; the first being my feelings of complete satisfaction today as I folded the laundry and made slow cooked lamb for my family for dinner tonight. Some would say that because I enjoyed those things, I am not a feminist. They are wrong.

The second thing was wanting to join the Blog hop over at Salt & Carmel about the absolutely misogynistic and ridiculous advertising campaign that Ann Summers is currently running. They are giving away free ice cream with, (ready?) flavoured lube toppings, from I Scream Trucks (TM I’m sure) and asking people to make “‘O’ Faces” to win prizes.

I don’t know about you but ice cream trucks to me screams children. And “‘O’ Faces”? Don’t even get me started.

Ann Summers, for the Americans in the audience, sells sexy undies and sex toys on the UK high street, i.e. downtown. We have one at Belfast City Centre and I am not a prude but seriously, their windows are embarrassing. And their stock is crap.

But that’s neither here not there. What is here and there is this misogynistic ideal they are spreading through England (no I Scream Trucks here in NI, alas) in order to give away ice cream. And sex toys. To teenagers.

Several people have already written and Tweeted about their young children noticing the vans and not understanding why they can’t have a free ice cream. O_o

So we’re sending a message, Tweeting using #misogynytour and #annsummers. Having a blog hop.

Because some, I’m sure, male marketing exec thought this was a good idea. And, apparently, so did the CEO of Ann Summers. Who is a woman. O_o