The Government, Love and hairy legs…

Oh my I’m in a strange mood today. I have all sorts of thoughts running around my head and am having a hard time making sense of them. I started a new medication a couple of days ago (Lamictal) and whilst I haven’t had any noticable effects on my moods, there are a few effects happening which are definitely noticeable. Such as insatiable hornyness, constant hunger, sleeping much better, less headaches. I’m at a very low sub therapeutic dose atm, and these effects, albeit a mixed bag, make me more hopeful that I’ll be able to maintain at a lower dose. I’m not too keen on filling my body with medications, and I’ll tell you why. Pharmaceutical companies = run by men. NHS = run by men. Pharmacy = staffed by men. Psychiatrist = male. Jenny = angry feminist with bipolar disorder rallying against having to be treated by men. The delightful thing about the NHS is that it’s FREE. I’m tremendously lucky that I will always have access to doctors, medications and urgent care for free when I need it. The flip side of the coin is, long waiting times, harrased doctors, time limited therapy and a lack of female doctors. If I wanted to ensure that I had a female doctor, I would have to pay for private treatment, which I simply cannot afford. I live on benefits (welfare) and make a small amount of additional money by making eco friendly menstrual products. If I lived in America, I’d be SCREWED, beyond a shadow of a doubt. That’s what makes it so hard to be a rabid rad fem some days, I have an enormous amount to be grateful for, more I’m sure than some of my american sisters. I know I won’t have to pay if I break my leg, the government gives me money to stay at home and look after my child, I can get 9 months paid maternity leave, I’m not expected to work when I’m sick, I have a bearable sized apartment with which to live in with my son which the local council pays for, including rent and the delightful council tax.

But…wait….I hate it when people tell me I should be grateful for what we’ve got. No I damn well shouldn’t, I’m amazed at what we don’t have. I’m shocked, horrified and truly disgusted. I’m horrified that women are so grossly under represented in Parliament that we have men running our country who spend money on fighting ‘terrorism’ and engaging in futile wars rather than putting money into schools and our struggling NHS. Old women should not die waiting for hip replacement or cataract surgery. It’s is vastly unfair that someone living in a PO postcode will get 1 cycle of NHS IVF therapy for free, when 20 miles away women living in SO postcodes could get 5-6 for free. The goverment is incrementally doling out little pellets of social change, in the hope that we will gobble it up like grateful little lapdogs and be happy for what we have. Well I’m telling you people it’s not fucking good enough. For every person like me who is barely struggling to keep their head above water, there are hundreds more drowning in debt, living in slums, living on the streets, only affording to feed their children terrible basic unhealthy food, contracting diseases. For every person like me there are probably thousands making money by screwing other people over. Call me idealistic, but I just can’t imagine that in a matriachal society we would make money by climbing over the corpses of the fallen.

I remember reading a passage written by Germaine Greer, which I loved, despite my misgivings about the woman. About how women are supposed to feel privileged because now they can be in the army and be executives. Dazzle camouflage people (thank you Inga Muscio for that expression). Women are encouraged to think of themselves as lucky, when in fact we are just as opressed as before. In fact, we are systemtically, legally, financially and socially being repressed even more so, just in different ways. The only way women seem to be able to rise to the top in any profession is by emulating the most hideous male characteristics. And when that happens, the representation of women in Parliament is irrelevant, because they’re all acting like crotch grabbing beer swilling jocks. And when women get too good at what they do, when they let their determination, outspokeness, assertiveness, ambition and drive shine through, we are told we are de feminized and people hate us for that too. How can we win?

I really want to live to see a Parliament staffed mostly or entirely by women, but very very much doubt that will happen. It’d be wonderful to live to see a government where compassion, empathy, love, generosity and simple care for others are on a par with ambition and drive. I don’t think that women should make themselves appear to feel softer to succeed as women in this world, but nor do I think that a good way to go ahead is to reenact the behaviour of the men which I so despise. Oh lady I am full of contradictions today. I guess it’s a good idea to have a blog where I can meander around these points.

Another thing that is on my mind at the moment is the concept of LOVE. Scary word really. Especially so for myself, as every time I feel like I’ve been in love, I’ve been screwed. I made a conscious decision a few months ago to be single and wait as long as necessary to find someone that fit my criteria for a partner, and fully accepted the possibility that I might die before it happens. I’d ultimately love a female partner, but I don’t feel any more confident about that happening than I do about finding a ‘man’. I love women, I adore them, I’m openly bisexual and would love a female partner. But I am so far from finding someone with views similar to my own it’s almost amusing. My last ex girlfriend (who I no longer talk to) called me bigoted when I said I hate men, and cut me off because she didn’t want someone with such ‘unconscienable’ views in her life. I’d sooner chop my own legs off than go out with a woman who isn’t a feminist. I’d sooner drown in my own barf than date a ‘I can be pretty and blonde and smooth skinned and wear corsets and still be a feminist hee hee’ feminists. I am the way I am because I want to stand out, if not for myself (because believe I have days when I’d KILL to blend in), then for other women. If only one woman in my entire life decides to give up on shaving, growing her hair, doing her nails, wearing designer outfits, getting paid less and decides to fight back because of my example, because of talking to me, then I’ll feel like I’ve done well. I’ll be sitting in the Summerland with a smarmy little grin on my face baby.

So anyway, before I go off on a tangent, my main worry currently is that LOVE and FEMINISM do not mesh. I think we need to radically reinvent love, the concept of love, the surrounding behaviours and attitudes before I can let myself fall in love. Love in this society as woman means giving up too much. Germaine Greer wrote much in the Female Eunuch about the concept of altruism and love being binded together. Women, we need to kick those apart. We need to rip the bindings off with our teeth if we have to. We need to MAKE PEOPLE REALISE that the stereotypical marriage, kids, small career, one man all my life attitude is FALSE. That we can be dirty, shaven haired fuzzy legged rad fems and still be loved. That loving someone doesn’t mean you have to stop thinking you’re the business. That love means that you care about someone, it doesn’t mean you stop putting yourself first. That you can be however you want, and be loved. You can be a bitch saggy titted moody rad fem and still expect someone to worship the ground you walk on. I wonder if I’ll ever find someone like that? My current sweetie measures up quite well, but there are a few issues of commanding importance that I cannot deal with currently. So I’m stuck just using him for sex, woe is me 😛

The main issues being that men make we want to vomit. I either loathe them or their sheer patheticness makes me want to wet my pants from laughing too much. Like I said, I’ve found a few exceptions. Most of these are online, and I don’t know them IRL. A couple of them are men I know through Anji, who I trust implicitly. In my personal life, I genuinely don’t think I’ve met a SINGLE man who hasn’t done one scummy thing to me. As a group, I think men are unworthy of time or energy. A man would probably have to pretty much walk on water to prove himself to me. My current sweetie is doing a pretty good job of not doing anything sucky thus far. He hasn’t treated me like a leper for menstruating, he likes my hair short and spikey, he likes the way I smell now I don’t wear perfume, he likes playing with my fat tummy, he puts up with me putting my cold feet on him in bed, he washes before sex, he makes me laugh, he’s fairly intelligent, he loves his family and he’s good company. And increasingly (especially last night) I’ve realised I like him as more than a fuck buddy, and do you know what, it FUCKS ME OFF. I don’t want to like a man and I especially do not want to fall in love with someone. After the last man I was with (my only serious relationship with a man), my heart wasn’t just broken. It was ripped out, stamped and my ex trailed his bloody footprints around. He is a scummy piece of shit who deserves to be strung up by his bollocks and left to starve today. So excuse me if I’m not jumping for joy at the prospect of letting another man into my life. I’m scared shitless in fact. I have to kep reminding myself that I’m a hell of a lot stronger than I used to be, I’ve physically and verbally punished the shitty ex who can now fall off a cliff for all I care. That I don’t feel the need to do anything that I don’t want to do any more. And I’ve realised that falling in love can have conditions, it has to. I don’t think it’s possible for me to love a man unconditionally any more, and I guess that’s a challenge because they all want to be worshipped. I think everyone wants to be worshipped, we’re all wired for love and attention after all. I think men just demand it in a selfish way and women don’t expect the same. Maybe that’s why in practically all my male relationships I feel like it’s me always giving and the man always taking.

Last night I was lying in bed, after leaving a big wet patch on my sweeties sheets, having my back stroked and my tummy flab played with. I was warming my cold feet up on his legs. I wasn’t worried about being fat or hairy or not smelling like roses. I was just living life and enjoying another person, who was a man. And that’s got to be something right?

I hope I’m not going soft. I might go into the street and shove a man really hard now to make myself feel better 😛


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