That’s me in the corner. That’s me in the spotlight losing my…

Ah, I ‘lost’ any religion I may have had years ago. Seems I am now losing my family, too.

The very last thing I imagined when I started this blog was that it would turn into some misery memoire – little did I know the surprising turns life would take.

So, my family have accused me of lying. Of it all being in my imagination. My father refuses to discuss it, says it didn’t happen. Says the doctors don’t know what they are talking about. I think if he really believed that, he’d have gone to the mosque when he nearly died a couple of years ago, instead of the hospital. He doesn’t go to the sheikh when he gets sick, he goes to the doctor.

This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been accused of lying. Many, many moons ago, when in my first (arranged) marriage I called him to ask him to tell my husband of the time not to rape me – he accused me of lying then. He said no, that’s not rape, you are lying. It’s not rape if he is your husband, you should not say no to your husband – it is his right. A teeny bit of me died that day hearing that inhuman response, and a teeny bit of me has died again being accused of lying now.

My family think I’ve brought this up to tear them apart. No. I just wanted them to care about it, rather stupidly of me. I just wanted some support, some empathy, some love. I keep forgetting what blind faith in dogma can do to a person. That denial and accusation is preferable to dealing with the unwanted truths and realities that are part & parcel of religion. How sad. My own sister has turned on me, I never knew she had that inhuman side to her. She has two daughters of her own. I may never see them again. I’m so heartbroken by that. But not broken. Sad and pained, but not broken. They can’t break me, I know I’m right. I know I’m going to do something to stop other girls going through cruel inhumanity. And that makes me stronger than anything that they can be. I don’t need a book to tell me what’s right or wrong.

I have friends and I think they love me. So, am lucky. And I’m going to do the right thing and that will give me more strength than they and those that condone mutilation could ever imagine or take away from me.

Even if I am having a weepy-feel sorry for myself kind of day. Inside I feel freeer, it’ll just take a while for it to manifest in my mood.

The vagina rants

I still find it strange to say the word ‘vagina’. It’s actually a beautiful sounding word, I don’t know why it feels strange to say vagina, which is beautiful, but there’s no strangeness when I use another word, ‘cunt’, which I do, frequently. Cunt is an uglier word, but with it’s own beauty, it is also full of power. I wonder why the beauty of the word vagina scares me a little, still, while the ugliness of ‘cunt’ is appealing.

My super-religious upbringing dictated a kind of fear and, I suppose, disgust – dressed up as respect and honour. Vaginas had to be shaved or plucked, for ‘cleanliness’, for ‘purity’, but really it’s about control and invading boundaries. Is hair dirty or impure? Why weren’t we instructed to shave our eyebrows or our heads? It’s not hair they consider impure or unclean, it’s the vagina itself. The womanliness of it. The implicit messages that get internalised – the ones that aren’t said – those are very telling. What does it say about a culture that expects young girls (& boys too, to be fair) to start thinking of even the little things that happen to our bodies naturally as a part of becoming an adult as dark, foreboding, sinful – to be ripped out & disposed of? What fear must have dictated this loathing? To see something so ugly in nature’s beauty? They want to infantilise us all, they want little girls, not women. Grim.

A little bit of blood changes you in the eyes of these fuckturds too. Suddenly, because of some little red drops, you become an impurity. Too impure to stand and pray in front of God (if that’s your thing – it was never mine – I used to fake my periods in school to get out of prayers), if you’re married, too impure/disgusting to have sex with (I faked my periods in my first marriage too – guess why). You can’t be touched or be considered clean enough to touch again or be in a pure or holy place until you’ve ritually washed away whatever it is they are so afraid of. Womanliness is so threatening to them and I wonder what womanliness means to them that makes it so. How they have polluted vaginas in the minds of the people. How cowardly.

For some, who are the most afraid of womanliness and vaginas and what they mean, their best defence is attack. The cutting & destruction of the clitoris, the only bit of humanity made only for pleasure. Horror and revulsion at womens’ pleasure leads those in fear of it to destroy it in desperately cruel ways. I think those people see women as big walking vaginas. Nothing but the sum and an extension of their vaginas. Or perhaps, it’s not so much fear, as jealousy. Who knows what goes on in the minds of those women hating psychosociopaths?

 

On familiarity breeding contempt

So, today’s cliche is ‘Familiarity breeds contempt’. There’s probably some truth to this, but it’s besides the point, I think.

For me, it’s not so much familiarity that breeds contempt, but over-familiarity. I don’t know if this is something that women are subject to, more than men, but it’s something I find VERY IRRITATING.

If I don’t know you, don’t call me babe/darling/sexy/beautiful/whatever, just don’t call me anything, you don’t know me & I’m not here for your gratification & to be reduced to some silly overfamiliar word, stop it.

Sometimes it happens so often, it feels like it borders on harrassment. I don’t see guys referring to each other in such cushty terms, so why is it so ok, for women to be spoken to like that & reduced to words like that.

And while I’m here, I wish the word women, rather than girls were used when talking about us grown up women. I’m sure it does something to the architecture of the mind in those that do it, and contributes to this constant infantilising & objectification that many of us are subject to. So, stop that now!

Stupid man from yesterday

Yesterday was helping a friend with the Womens’ Society stall at our Freshers’ Week.

So many lovely people, so much to talk about, I learnt a lot from all the weird and wonderful people that came over to chat. But there’s always one… And they always find me (a little like mosquitos & just as irritating).

“Oh, so you’re the man-hating society, are you?” he barked at me.

“No hello first? I hate to break it to you, but the womens’ society is not about men. I don’t hate men, I just hate idiots” I said to him (luckily have had to deal with this same tired old “argument”, so the sentence slipped off the tongue with a satisfying smoothness).

“You’re just a reverse chauvinist”

“There’s no such thing as reverse chauvinism, chauvinism is chauvinism. What’s your point, would you like to join?” (I have my moments of smart-arsery)

He just stormed off, muttering.

There’s always one.

Careful what you wish for.

Today’s cliche is “Careful what you wish for”.

I feel mixed about this one. A couple of friends have said this to me since I told them of my ideas about poly relationships.

Is it about stopping people having dreams and plans outside of the norm? Is it fear of doing ‘other’? Or, just good advice?

Not sure. There’s something a little defensive about it, I think.