why women are angry

I’ve spent the last couple of days watching my social media explode. Watching my friends and the women I love and women I look up to express their anger, their fury. For Sarah Everard. For the hellfire systems we live in. For the constant injustices we’re forced to swallow. But also for each other. For solidarity. For sisterhood. To make sure everyone knows they are seen. And heard. They’ve all written so eloquently and openly, it’s been a balm to my own fury. But I haven’t shared any of my own words yet. I’ve been wondering what else do I have to add to the conversation? Everything I’ve read, I’ve resonated with. I’ve felt it, deeply. But I can’t do it any more articulately. Would my voice just be more repetitive noise to an already very loud situation? Did I have anything new to say?

And then I realised it.

That’s the fucking point. You don’t need a new angle, you just need to show up. With your truth and your anger and your experience. Because we’ve all experienced this bullshit. On a daily basis. Our whole goddamn lives. This is not an isolated incident. This particular case was the worst kinds of extreme and horrifically insidious. But it stems from somewhere. It all weaves up from an unshakeable belief that men feel superior in this world. Because this world was built by you and for you. And I don’t need to hear any of this shit about ‘not all men’. Give me a fucking break. Because if it’s not you, that’s fantastic. Now what are you doing everyday to be a feminist and stand up for women and call out bullshit? You’re not off the hook, far from it. You saying it’s ‘shocking’ or ‘appalling’ just isn’t going to cut it anymore. It’s not shocking, it’s our reality. You should not be shocked by this. Because it isn’t surprising. And women are being brainwashed into feeling numb to it because it’s easier, it’s a quieter life. Stay in your place. They’re not even being allowed their fucking fury. What you’ve seen the last couple of days is the women you know taking their power back. So fucking sit up and listen. Every tiny story or memory adds together to create the whole. It’s the seemingly insignificant cases that we actually need to begin with. Because it’s inherent belief systems and mentalities that we need to challenge and alter. Women are not being dramatic. They are giving you the fucking roadmap on how to change the world. But we can’t do it alone.

When I was fifteen, my mum would tell me to text her when I got to my friends house. Let me know you’re safe. I’d inevitably meet my friends, become an excited adolescent and the text would completely slip my mind. I was a kid. She was being too overprotective. I’m fine. Twenty minutes after my scheduled arrival my mum would call or text me and I’d instantly feel guilty. I’m sorry, I’m safe, I forgot, I’ll see you later. But the actual problem there is that mothers don’t feel safe letting their daughters do a ten minute walk in a quiet suburb to their friends house in broad fucking daylight. And that’s just day one of being a woman. Grab a pen, kid, here’s your crash course:

Don’t drink too much it’s sloppy. Don’t drink too little you’ll be a prude. Don’t wear that short skirt, slut. Don’t wear boys clothes, lesbian whore. Don’t talk to strangers it leads them on. Don’t ignore people you look stuck up. Don’t walk home in the dark. Don’t walk home in the day. Don’t walk home through parks. Don’t run through parks. Oh but don’t get in a taxi. Don’t get a late bus alone. Don’t be alone. Don’t be in heels. Don’t be in trainers. Don’t smile. Don’t speak. Don’t think. Don’t breathe.

It’s a goddamn minefield.

Your shock is not welcome here. And neither is your intentional ignorance. These experiences that women are telling you about are not shocking. They’re the tip of the fucking iceberg. And your shock won’t help the Everard family. But your actions will help women everywhere.

And I’m just furious. This was a stream of consciousness post and I’m not wanting to make it pretty. This is how I feel. I’m sorry if it alienates you or you find it harsh but idgaf. I’m sick and tired of feeling exhausted. I’m tired of explaining things to people. I’m bored of you not understanding the lived experience of women when we tell you about it all goddamn day. And this is me speaking as a privileged cishet white woman. I can’t even imagine the added struggles and fears of my trans sisters, my sisters of colour, my sisters with disabilities. But I can put in the work to listen and change my behaviour. And so can you. We shouldn’t need to be your daughters, sisters, mothers, girlfriends for you to care. You need to call out your male friends every day. Whenever they say anything problematic. Because it’s all insidiously linked together. Oh what, you don’t want to be seen as a killjoy? Can’t take a joke? Too sensitive? Well, quite honestly, get over yourself. You would never make it as a woman with skin that thin. Realise that this is not about you, but it is up to you to change sexism in any tiny way you can. If you can post an IWD picture of your mum and sister the other day but you can’t call yourself a feminist then think about why. What are you fucking scared of? Cos unfortunately we can’t do it without you. Why do you think nothing changes? Because we police girls instead of educating boys. So let’s do some fucking educating.


Pussy Whipped – Bikini Kill (Yes, I’m putting an entire album today. Go listen to this excellent, angry riot grrrl shouting if you need to blow off some steam. And women, please take care of yourselves. If you feel helpless or hopeless, I get it. I feel it too. But we don’t give up. That’s not who we are. You are magic.)

April Wrap Up

Yeah, so it is June and this is my April wrap up. What are you gonna do? Where is my May wrap up? There isn’t one. I’m back in my old bad habit of starting thirteen books at once but finishing none. Working on that for June. I had a small but good reading month in April, so here we go:

Goodnight Stories for Rebel Girls – Elena Favilli, Francesca Cavallo

Was it even conceivable that I wouldn’t love this book? It was everything I needed. The illustrations are absolutely stunning. Each page brings you the story of a different rebel woman and I appreciated the amount of women I’d never even heard of before. It’s kind of sad how many women I didn’t recognise and maybe I should be seeking these women out more. But it was refreshing to learn about new epic women, some who’ve been hidden by history and others who are just starting out. It was pretty humbling to see so many women featured who are younger than me and what they’ve already done for the world!

Mom & Me & Mom – Maya Angelou

Somehow this was my first Maya Angelou and I don’t think I could have chosen a better one. I guess I’ll find out when I read the others though. Her exploration of family and love and obligation and respect in this memoir is truly mesmerising. Angelou does not romanticise family and the love of a mother. She’s sees the flaws in humans but also their potential for forgiveness and greatness. I loved the lessons her mother taught her and they’re ideas I’ll take into my own life. It’s just a beautiful mother/daughter story that is definitely not always easy but is always worth it.

The Body Snatcher – Robert Louis Stevenson

I enjoy reading gothic fiction but I’m also a bit of a wuss so I’ve had this short story on my shelf for a while now. I’m yet to read Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde so I thought I’d start small and see if I enjoyed Stevenson’s writing. I found the writing a little dry but the story compelling. I enjoyed the conversation of morality and mortality. Not something I feel I need to read again but I enjoyed it enough.

The Red Pony – John Steinbeck

Since reading it in GCSE’s, Of Mice and Men has been one of my favourite books. I loved how Steinbeck explored characters as well as nature so I was looking for more of this. The Red Pony did not disappoint. At times there was a little too much technical talk of horses that went over my head and some of the graphic description of violence towards animals was a little too much for my herbivore heart, but overall I found the book pretty endearing. I enjoyed seeing the care Jody developed for his animals and how he viewed them as friends. I also found the exploration of old people’s place in the society of the time quite fascinating.

Helpless – The Regrettes

my year of reading women: the conclusion

At the end of 2016 I was at an impasse with my reading. I’d spent a life juggling assigned reading for school and books I could scramble from the library for fun. But during uni I’d let reading for pleasure fall by the wayside. If we’re being honest, I’d let reading for uni fall by the wayside too. But what English Literature student can’t relate? The sheer quantity is a joke. But if I did pick up a book I was usually doing it out of guilt for an essay due. Not to feed my soul.

So fast forward to graduation and it had been years since I had properly read a book, guilt free, that I had chosen for myself. I was so excited to read every book in the world. So what did I do? I read almost none. Partly I was too overwhelmed with where to start and partly I was just being lazy as always. So going into 2017 I knew something needed to change. Books are my favourite thing in the world so not reading them was a big disservice to my authenticity. I decided to take drastic action and vowed to read only women authors for a whole year. It was kind of a fuck you to all the dead white men I’d read at uni.

And thus began my year of reading women.

And you know what I found? It wasn’t even hard. Because there are so many epic women writers in this world, some who get the recognition they deserve and others who sit quietly on the shelf behind the new James Paterson monstrosity. So by reading only women you’re not cutting our thousands of authors you’re actually opening your mind to millions more. On my shelf alone there was hundreds of women I was excited to read but just hadn’t got to. Never mind the gigantic pool the rest of the world also had to offer.

And it was refreshing. What a year to be reading only women when we were out there fighting for our rights and demanding change in a heavily patriarchal world. It was liberating and made me feel so connected to so many badass women. I wasn’t tempted to read a man the whole year because even when I had a hankering for Orwell or Vonnegut or Baldwin I knew I had so much time to read them in the future. Right now they were irrelevant. This was the year of women.

On analysing my bookshelf in January 2017 I noted I had a shocking ratio of men to women. I had about two thirds men. How I’d got to that point I couldn’t tell you. Having about fifteen Shakespeare plays probably didn’t help my case though. So I made a concerted effort to only buy women when I inevitably found myself in a bookstore. The affect of that is I now have more women on my shelf than men. I know. I buy a lot of books. But it satisfies me to look at the shelf now and know it’s properly represented. At least it’s one small slice of diversity out of the giant library of the world.

For 2018 I’ve decided my reading goal will be to now try and read all the unread books on my shelf. I’m postponing buying more new books until my tbr is down quite a bit. Now at my current rate reading my whole shelf could take years but I’m willing to put in the work. Though when January hit I couldn’t quite stop reading women. Part of me wanted to go for round two but I knew I wanted to really get reading everything on my shelf that intrigues me. Man, woman, black, white, Asian, Native American, straight, gay, bi, transgender, cis gender, gender queer, memoir, play, poem, novel, essay. I want to read all the words.

That’s my real goal.

So eventually in March this year I broke my fourteen months of reading women. If you’re gonna do it it’s gotta be with someone boss so I chose Albert Camus. And I don’t regret it but part of me still longs for the glorious days of celebrating women authors.

I learnt a lot from reading women. I learnt that we have some incredibly talented and strong voices. We have important stories to tell. We’re funny as hell. We are deeply troubled by the world we see yet consumed by it’s beauty. We are wise yet we’re never done learning. We want to help people and show them they’re not alone. We want to tell other women to live their truth too. We are badass. And damn, can we write well. Simply, we are storytellers. And I’m so excited to explore thousands more stories and experiences from epic women. So I see many years of reading only women in my future. As well as I’m sure several other reading challenges.

I wholeheartedly recommend a similar year to everyone.

Cos women are boss, duh.


Bitch – Meredith Brooks

something men should know

So I’m going to write something a little bit different today. Usually I like to keep my posts positive and somewhat upbeat because that’s the type of energy I’m wanting to attract into my life. But I’ve realised that shouldn’t stop me talking about other things. Not when it’s something I care a lot about.

So here’s the situation. Yesterday I was making my daily commute to work. I walk to the train station, I get the train, I walk to my office. Simple. I do this every week day (and weekends if my office would ever offer overtime again!). But the point is that it’s my route, I know where I’m going and I feel safe. Yesterday I did not feel safe. The train I get into work is usually quite full as it’s the time a lot of people are actually coming home from work. As the train approaches I glance to see if there’s any free seats of four, there isn’t but I see one with a guy about my age in the corner and decide to head there. As I sit down diagonal to him, as train etiquette dictates, he looks up and stares at me. And I don’t mean glances at me when he thinks I’m not looking. He stares at me like he’s pissed off with me for a good five seconds. I kind of stared back for a second because I thought he was going to say something, when I realised he wasn’t I looked down in hopes he’d look away. For the rest of the journey he kept looking up at me but I didn’t look at him directly. I think at one point he was even taking a photo of me which made my skin crawl. When a girl moved through the door connecting carriages that was right by us he got really angry that she’d touched the door to the chair next to it. Baring in mind this wasn’t even his chair and she was just trying to fit through the door. When we were getting to my station I stood up early to get near the door, a few seconds later he stood up too. He obviously could have been going anywhere but he was in sweatpants and this was the business district so your mind starts to go to these places. When the train stopped I decided to hover and he did walk out in front of me, I wanted to keep him in front of me. It’s a busy station so I was trying to make sure I lost him. At the bottom of the steps he turned around and looked at me so I made sure I was stuck behind a small crowd that I could have walked around and then I proceeded up the stairs really slowly. But of course at the top of the stairs he was stood there trying to decide which way to go. Yeah, he could have just been deciding which way to go but at this point how did I know he hadn’t just followed me off a train. He finally turned left which was good because I needed to go right and I proceeded through the underground tunnel as quick as I could, frequently turning to see if he’d started going my way instead. I’d already decided on the escalator that if he was behind me I’d go and talk to the guard at the ticket gate and make sure he got away from me. He wasn’t there and I continued to work through the dark city streets turning round far too often, just to check.

Now this may seem like a small situation to you. But the point is it was a situation. It was something I had to think about and even fucking strategise about when I should have just been reading my book on my way to work. And this happens to women every day. In all different types of variations. The thing I have a problem with is that I should not have to feel unsafe or uncomfortable just trying to get to work. Just trying to exist in every day life. It’s not fair.

And a man may have looked at this guy and thought yeah, bit of a creep. But then they probably would have moved on with their day. I doubt they were turning their head the rest of their way to work in the dark. If you were, I apologise for belittling your experience. But speaking from the majority, men wouldn’t need to care about that small scenario because that’s not been their experience of life.

Boys aren’t often told to carry their keys between their fingers if they’re walking in the dark alone. Boys aren’t told to not make eye contact with someone you think is suspicious but make sure you always have them in your peripherals. Boys aren’t told that never mind walking in the streets, taxis definitely aren’t safe either! Boys aren’t told to text when they get home, or not to take that shortcut even though it would get you home fifteen minutes quicker. So it is different. And you have to understand that.

Anyway, I just felt a bit spooked out for the rest of my shift and I told people in work about it and I was not surprised that the other women started drowning me in their similar stories but I did notice the look of surprise and horror on some of the men’s faces. These are good people, I assume, so they don’t even consider that as something that happens to people every day whereas the women gave me the ‘I’m sorry that happened to you, what can you do’ look. We’re all familiar with it.

So I thought I would talk about it because I’ve seen a lot of people think that sexual assault is rape and that’s it. They don’t realise or haven’t thought about where behaviour like that begins. You may think something as ‘innocent’ as a catcall should be received with flattery but usually you’re actually just making someone uncomfortable and even angry. But again, you wouldn’t know that because not many women are going to stop and shout at you because you’re usually a big group of men.

And they want to take guards off the Liverpool trains.

Something to think about.

Creep – Radiohead

Elle Woods Is A Boss

Elle Woods is unapologetically herself and I think that’s the best thing you can be. Want to wear a baby pink suit to congress or have scented CVs? Why the fuck not. Be individual and authentic and original. Don’t compromise yourself to please others or to be who you think they want you to be. Elle tried that and she showed it only affects you and your identity. Even if you change for others it will never be enough for them. Other people have got their own lives, don’t worry about what they’re doing.

I mean, just look at Warner: ew. All he does is try and please people. He’s selfish but he’s mainly just a puppet of his powerful family. By trying to win Elle back once she’s bested him in every possible way shows his cowardice. Where Elle oozes intelligence and integrity Warner demonstrates none. He doesn’t know how to be his own person. Don’t be a Warner.

Elle is a badass feminist and I’ll argue with anyone who thinks she isn’t. Her ferocity is why I’ll time and time again come back to these great movies. (Though not knock-off Legally Blondes, that’s two hours I’m never getting back!) When they both finally arrived on Netflix I was bloody elated. I think it’s easy to dismiss these movies as rom coms – as with Mean Girls and many others – but I think that’s a real shame. You’d be missing a great role model. Elle empowers young girls and women. I mean the whole premise of the first movie is a blonde, Malibu girl trying to make it at Harvard Law School. You expect her to be out of her league. Yes, she originally goes to win back her boyfriend but who can say they haven’t done something stupid in the name of love? At least Elle was coming out of it with a law degree.

But the tale quickly becomes much more than that when Elle realises she’s actually good at being a lawyer. She’s honest and bold and she believes in the good of people. She’s not cut-throat because she doesn’t need to be. She’s just confident and effective. She’s strong and intelligent. She’s underestimated constantly and by basically everyone in her life – most dishearteningly by her parents – but this only fuels her determination. The scene with Elle in the pool at her parents house gives some real The Graduate vibes. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. Elle is looking at her parents lives and thinking, yeah, she’s not entirely sure where this next adventure is going but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t at least try. Her parents lives are frivolous and she wants better for herself.

I think that’s pretty boss.

I think a big lesson in the movie is understanding your self-worth and then fighting for what you want. And for Elle she concludes, sure, she loves glitter and bikinis and getting her hair done. And she always will. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with that. But that’s just one part of her and she’s so much more. She craves a greater purpose in life and a bigger challenge and I think that’s only a good thing. It’s inspiring.

Go and change everything about yourself like Elle because why the heck not. Or just use Elle’s positivity and drive to go after something you’re already slightly working towards but mainly just in your head. Turn intention into action. Just be daring. Be kind. And don’t ever compromise yourself. Because if you’re being truly who you feel you need to be then you don’t need to worry about fitting in or being cool because you already are.

At least, that’s what I learnt from Elle Woods anyway. I’d go as far as to say she’s a feminist icon. But maybe I’m just being a fangirl. Either way, I’m still sitting here waiting for the third movie.

Perfect Day – Hoku