But why do you care about feminism anyway?

Because why wouldn’t I? Because feminism is about equality – the right to be treated equally, regardless of gender identification. Because I’d rather people made the ridiculous assumption that I was a man-hating dyke than to feel as if I wasn’t doing my most to defend my rights, and the rights of all women. Because I am so tired of percieving my own body as a source of fear and pain. Because I honestly believe that if one person can speak up, it will enourage others to speak too. Because ignorance spreads like fire, and perpetuates suffering. Because I’ve got self-love, grrrl love and boy love. Because it terrifies me to think that some of my wonderful, intelligent friends consider the word ‘cunt’ to be more insulting and offensive than a punch in the face. Because in order to be of interest in the media, I must either be fetishised or demonised. Because it’s none of your damn business who I choose to sleep with. Because it’s none of my damn business who anyone else chooses to sleep with. Because my mother quit a job over unequal pay when I was 7 years old, and I never forgot how proud I was of her. Because people still believe that testing for virginity is scientifically possible (but only for women, of course). Because everyone’s ambitions, opinions and passions should be considered valid, regardless of thier genitals or sexual preferences. Because I spent years being ashamed and afraid of my own sexuality, because no-one ever taught me just how awesome my body is. Because I want to educate young girls about thier rights to amazing, consensual, EPIC sex, free of STD’s, unwanted pregnancy, shame and guilt. Because I want to educate young girls about thier right to say no, and be heard. Because we can battle patriarchy through creativity, love and discussion. Because I want an end to girl-on-girl hate. Because my potential for success should not be determined by my cup size (unless of course, I wanted to be a lingerie model. In which case, it would be pretty crucial.) Because I want to get dressed for an evening without considering the potential danger my cleavage could place me in. Because I want to be feminine and sexy, and intelligent and interesting and funny, and unimitable, and bookish and geeky and adorable and feisty and not be judged – by men or women.

SlutWalk London

It is here, it is happening, and before I start on an unstoppable rant train, here are some places you can get involved:

Slutwalk London Facebook (Please RSVP!)

Slutwalk London Tumblr

In January, a Toronto Policeman told a group of law students, that if women didn’t want to get raped they should “avoid dressing like sluts”.  That guy did not know what he was getting himself in for. That single comment started a raging international protest; not just against moronic comments by men in uniforms, but against a culture that places blame amongst survivors, rather than perpetrators.

Have you ever noticed that if a male is called a ‘slut’ you usually prefix it with the word ‘man’? You can have ‘man-sluts’ or ‘sluts’ – the word slut is inherently feminine. Linguistically, there is no reason for this, it is a social expectation that has been placed on the word. In history, women have been beaten, institutionalised and ridiculed for promiscuous behaviour, it is somehow crude, unsightly, skanky, for a woman to be seen as sexual and we as a society have accepted and encouraged this mentality for too long. I am going to state this only once: However a woman chooses to express her sexuality, be it with many partners, be it only after she is married, be it through her choice of clothing, her application of make-up or her flirtatious behaviour – it is her fucking business and her fucking choice and it gives no-one the right to judge, insult or rape her. EVER. It is as simple as that. And I am sick and fucking tired of hearing about how sluts deserve it, miniskirts are asking for it, and us women should just stop being so damn provocative! Slutwalk proposes that we RECLAIM the word ‘SLUT’ – that yes, we have taken control of our own sexuality, and we dress however we want to, and we will not accept that as an excuse for rape. We have had enough.

But stop right there. I hear you screaming at your screen that you’re bored of hearing my feminazi dyke bullshit, and you don’t know what we’re all complaining about, we got the right to vote, didn’t we?! Can’t we just shut up already?!?! No. And here I would like to dispel a myth; In my opinion (I am by no means speaking for all Slutwalk Supporters or feminists here, this is just me with my silly little blog) – This is not just a feminist issue. This is a human rights issue. Yes, reported rape primarily affects women – but there is rape within the gay community, rape within institutions, and rape within the military is being reported by each and every gender. Men get raped too, so do Trans and Pangendered individuals and everyone else who I am unable to put a label on!  AND I HAVE YET ANOTHER MYTH TO DISPEL! – This isn’t just about rape. This is about sexual violence, and the threat of it, experienced each and every day. This is about catcalls and unwanted attention that make me feel unsafe walking down my own street after 8pm, this is about husbands, partners, boyfriends and strangers who believe that a human body is public property – to be touched and abused and commented on by whomever should wish to do so.  This is about your mother, sister, girlfriend, wife, best friend, daughter; to whom an evening out is a logistic nightmare of rape alarms, covered drinks and pack mentality, just to ensure their own personal safety.  This is about survivors who have been made to feel like they are criminals, unworthy of help and support.

People get raped because of rapists, and a culture which, for all of its feminist ideals, has allowed this to become the norm. I am not, for one moment suggesting that women shouldn’t be looking out for their personal safety, of course you should, it’s sensible, but I find it disgusting and sad that we live in a world in which women HAVE to do so. In a world where, if someone was drunk, rape is acceptable.

Join Slutwalk, tell the world that RAPE IS NEVER ACCEPTABLE, march with us! For yourself, for your family, for your friends – FIGHT BACK AGAINST RAPE CULTURE!

EDIT: I have recieved reactions to this, questioning my use of the word ‘feminist’, and I think it is really important to address this. I am referring to my own personal ideas of feminism (and although I would usually consider myself more humanitarian than feminist, it is relevant to this cause.) To me, feminsim is  not about man-hate or anger, or fighting to become MORE powerful or dominant than men. To me, feminism is about freely expressing yourself as you choose, loving yourself and supporting women’s rights (in equal measure to supporting ALL human rights). It is about finding or creating your own place as a woman within the human race, and learning to be true to yourself in the face of patriarchy, and refusing to become what is expected of you because of your gender (unless that is exactly what you WANT to become!) I hope that explains it a little better.

Also, I apologise for the seriousness of this post. Y’all know I don’t usually do serious, but this is important to me – xo

Dogs Can Tell The Difference.

According to Terminator Chronicles, Skynet has become self aware -  the attack starts today. I am in a fortified bunker, with my trusty daschund, Gretchen. See you on the other side. Good luck.

Beef with Taylor.

I have beef. That’s right. I have beef with Taylor Swift. ‘But she’s a harmless, lovable girl-next-door teen idol!’ I hear you cry. Wrong. You’re obviously not listening hard enough.
Now, I’m not into this whole ‘celebrity-bashing’ trend, and I hate to put anyone down who has actually managed to achieve something, especially so young, but this really cannot be left unaddressed. And no, I’m not talking about Miss Swift (what a name) herself, I am in fact referring to her song ‘Teardrops on my Guitar’

I’ll set the scene for you; I’m at work, in my very busy, very important, highly paid job at my village newsagent. It’s raining. It’s cold. I’m bored. I’m pissed off. I want to go home, drink coffee and numb my mind with Cosmo’s gallant tales of sexual extravagance. A song comes on the radio. It’s catchy, kind of sing-a-longy…and then I hear the lyrics.Now, I would not consider myself to be an intense feminist – yes, there are huge issues concerning women that I care about, yes I actively try to encourage and fight for equality, but that to me is just basic human rights. However, that’s not the point. The point is this: I consider myself blessed to know the women I do. My mother, my sister, my closest friends; they are all intelligent, creative, beautiful, wonderful megababes! Strong in body and mind, courageous in the face of imminent danger!! And yet, I have seen every one of those women reduced to mumbling, mascara-stained freaks in baggy jumpers, surrounded my soggy tissues and half-chewed galaxy. ‘What happened?!’ I hear you gasp. A bloke; A bloke happened.

THIS is my beef with Taylor Swift. I know that she is not responsible for the behaviour of Dickheads International, but she is a role model to a generation of young girls. And I cannot idly stand by and watch yet another generation of my warrior women reduced to sniffling loons because of this fucking victim mentality; this perception that if a guy’s not interested, you’re obviously not good enough; you’ve reached elephant man levels of unattractiveness and on a good day you remind yourself of Lilly Savage. You should just hide yourself in a fridge or join a freak show. No. No More. This ends here.

To help you understand, we’ll take a gander at the offending article. The song, from what I can gather, is about a guy called Drew. She’s in love with Drew, but Drew…(and this is the real twist)…loves someone else. First thoughts? The guy’s an idiot. I’ve seen pictures of this Taylor Swift kid, and she’s a stunner, she’s got talent, and to get to where she is today, she must have some guts.
So when I hear “He’s the reason for the teardrops on my guitar”, straight away, I’m annoyed. The lyrics she is using makes it sound beautiful. She is glamorising being a victim of your own ill-advised standards. There are hordes of pre-pubescent girls imagining how poetic and tragic it would be to cry over a lost love! [Insert swoon here]. In reality, it’s not poetic and tragic. It hurts a lot. And it’s kind of gross. When you cry like that your face goes red and blotchy, you snot everywhere, you wail and scream and generally make a tit of yourself. I know. I’ve done it.

The other great line goes like this: “I’ll bet she’s beautiful, that girl he talks about, and she’s got everything that I have to live without.” Not forgetting here, that Taylor has a multi-million, internationally selling album at the age of nineteen. I’m pretty sure Drew’s other girlfriend doesn’t have one of those. I really feel that this line is suggesting that Taylor herself is not beautiful, and maybe, that’s why he likes the other girl. Bullshit, he likes  the other girl cause she has a sense of humour and doesn’t sit around moping over boys. It sounds so romantic, like it’s made all the more of a romantic tragedy to have self-esteem issues. What makes me angry isn’t the song, it’s not the man-worship, it’s all the whimpering and whining and every teardrop on that sodding guitar. It’s playing the victim. That’s my real problem with this song. I bet Drew’s other girlfriend isn’t like that. I bet she climbs trees and has water fights. That’s why Drew likes her.

I know that it’s not just Taylor Swift, and I’m certainly not trying to say she’s a bad musician, or that she’s unworthy of the radio time, she’s a good musician. It’s just to me, this song is one of many that are perpetuating the century-old state of mind that women should be flimsy and unstable without a man, like a piece of wet cardboard that needs propping up. Yes, women need men, as men need women for all manner of obvious reasons, but it’s not something to punish yourself over. Stop crucifying yourselves because Mick from accounting won’t go for a coffee, John from the coffee shop won’t take you to dinner, or cause Mark from the restaurant just ‘isn’t ready to commit yet.’ Stop listening to Bridget Jones drivel about Miss Havisham and Alsatians, and just be happy knowing that you’re a motherfuckin’ lone wolf! From what I’ve learned, men don’t want wet-cardboard girlfriends anyway, they just want someone cool to hang out with who can stand on her own two feet. We shouldn’t need men to tell us how amazing and attractive we are, we should already know. Stop trying to figure out what guys want, stop caring! Just chill the fuck out and don’t get caught up in the hype.

Taylor; please stop getting your guitar all wet, and start doing Chaka Khan covers or something

Good Morning, Starshine!

This is quite an old picture of me with cat ears on.
Welcome to my blog. You will probably see this quite often.

So, I’m lots of places on the interwebz (check out the nifty ‘LINKS’ page to stalk me at every possible social networking site EVER) but I’ve never made anything really personal. I use my Tumblr to collect pretty pictures, and I use my Twitter to write all of the disgusting things I would never ever say in real life, and the rest of them are kind of self-explanatory.

So this is my ‘personal blog’. I highly doubt I will ever use it.