Mental Health

Mental, like me

It was unnerving to realise that I feel at home in these times of Corona because it’s pretty much how I’ve spent the majority of my life, under someone’s control, surviving from one day to the next. I have obsessive compulsive disorder or I did until I got a grip on it but it’s serving me well right now. Sure, my hands are a little bit cracked from all the washing but I learnt to counteract the negative effects with some mindfulness and self care. I remember to moisturise and I use mild handwash. I never forget to wash my hands if I’ve been outside or touch my dog and I rarely touch my face unless I’m settled for the night and there’s no chance I could touch something riddled with germs. This could very easily spin out of control but I’ve got to hand it to my first therapist, she really fixed me. Or rather, I did with her help, and my controls are working.

Isolation isn’t out of the norm for me. Surely the last wave of solitude was brought on by nazis and the state, if you can tell the difference, but it’s not the exception rather my default position. Like a mouse I scurried out at points in my life determined to get away from who I was but I always retreated to the safety of my biblical/Platonic cave. Perhaps this is why I don’t seem to have aged very much, I’m not doing and seeing all the things you’d need to for a lived in birthday suit.

As a small child I wasn’t permitted a life, I never had sleepovers or holidays with my pals (or even my family), the first time I left the country I was legally an adult and had run away from home. All the way through my schooling, I left the house at 8am and returned by 4pm at the latest, effectively under lockdown. After school clubs were out, but I pushed against this and became the captain for the quiz team and various sports and only barely managed to get permission after I made the teachers impress upon my father that it would look good on my long term record. Everything was a battle, I couldn’t even get my hair cut though I would later chop off an inch a week and wear it up so granddad wouldn’t notice, but he eventually did and I, predictably, got a beating. I had reasoned in the end I was going to get abuse whatever I did so would make it worth my while. This is how it mostly went until I ran away aged 15 and spent more time in isolation, off school at a critical time, my entire future hanging in the balance, travelling to and from Birmingham daily from London to do my GCSEs. I passed and even got 4 As though might have done a lot better if I’d had any stability. I survived then like I’m surviving now.

Weirdly it feels like the world is on my level for the first time in my life. People understand what it feels like to be so disconnected from everything and grieving for a future we can’t say for certain exists anymore. People are feeling the pain of separation, from their friends and way of life. The sheer mind-numbing drudgery of staring at the same 4 walls day in day out with no escape. Let there never be any judgment of people who are forced to claim disability benefits with the reasoning they CHOOSE to sit at home and do nothing all day. Would you choose this? Oddly I’m having a better time now than I was before Corona, there are people at home and everyone is free to talk, no excuses like work or extracurricular activities to fall back on. It’s brought me closer to my family; I can spend 5 hours just calling each relative in turn and hearing about how bored they are. It’s great.

I, like many of the nations cats and dogs, am grateful for the extra attention and the way it has stripped away the labels we apply to ourselves. Some people (the government) haven’t quite caught on to this yet but as Jeremy Corbyn pointed out the other day, they’ve already proved we have the money and will to make things better for all of us.

It was always doable and now we must insist it is moving forward. No one should be expected to carry on as normal with their financial obligations when their income has been cut off in the best interests of society. Society must step in. People literally cannot afford to sit at home and risk their homes and businesses and if the government doesn’t rescue every last one there should be hell. It is madness that rents and mortgages haven’t been suspended as other countries have done. I can’t blame people for taking the risk if it means they’ll be left homeless or hungry as a result if they do nothing. If more people die it will not be the fault of workers but the government who failed to provide adequate measures.

A Cautionary Mental Health Story

I learnt a long time ago I could not express myself in the way I wanted to or expect to be treated as an equal on rainy fascist island. I knew that speaking up would make me a target and I wasn’t strong enough to take it. I decided I would write down my version of events anyway, immediately, to remind myself this is how it happened, because things get downplayed, minimised, erased and historically I’ve been easily silenced, and gaslighted, even by people you’d never suspect of such an injustice.

I flagged on social media my first session with a specialist psychotherapist because I felt really uneasy afterwards, like I had been scrutinised and judged. I reasoned perhaps this was what it was supposed to feel like, I was here to learn of the inconvenient truths I’d buried but it irked me that the therapist hadn’t smiled at me once. I learnt about unconditional positive regard over 20 years ago, in a psychology module, as an example of best practice. Therapists must show clients acceptance and support in order to build a rapport and this makes sense, how else are vulnerable people meant to engage with a service if they feel they are being maligned?

I quieted the little voice that told me to run as fast as I could, even though my first therapist told me to always listen to it. I reasoned it was just an assessment, and that it would be followed up by another session to further assess my needs and this process was bound to get messy. I stuck with it, although I had to cancel 4 of the 11 sessions I was booked in for. The therapist would later assert that I had cancelled 6 of the 11, neglecting to mention she had cancelled one herself, and another was rearranged owing to a hospital appointment I absolutely could not miss, to investigate a possible auto-immune condition. There were 3 absences I was accountable for, when I had simply felt too sick to attend. It wasn’t very helpful either that there was no consistency in the times and dates I was offered, for example I might be booked in on a Thursday for 3pm, the following week Tuesday at 10am. This chopping and changing had the effect I suspected it would; on Thursday I booked a dogsitter to watch Frida whilst I went to therapy but it was only when I’d handed her over that my blood suddenly ran cold and I remembered the appointment was for 10.30am. I calmed down after a few minutes when I remembered it was for 10.30am the following Monday. It wasn’t the first time it happened either, it accounted for one of my absences. I had called in to check what time my appointment was only to be advised I had already missed it.

From the first session, I felt unwanted, a burden. She would sigh in exasperation at my expectations (or lack, thereof) and perspectives, and at the end of every session asked what I wanted from the service, as if I had more of an idea of what they provided than she did. I informed her I was not aware of all the services they offered and with this, she would arrange a follow up appointment to continue the assessment. Of the 5 sessions I was in attendance, I told her about everything, my life, my relationships, how I interact with them and the world and she actually said “it sounds like you’re trying to impress me” (!) I responded that I was trying to give her as clear a picture as possible so that she could use her professional experience and do her job to signpost me to the relevant services.. why would I need to impress her? She kept eye contact for too long or not all, making me shift in my seat. Always with the stony face.In every session she would suggest that perhaps this was not the right service for me, and I’d be better suited to group work, or somewhere that was closer to my home. She wanted rid and I had never felt more awkward but I was going to play the game, when specialist psych services are so thin on the ground, you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Plus I never want to piss a mental health professional off, they have the power to ruin your life with just one diagnosis.

There is always a power imbalance in a therapeutic setting, it should be a safe space where you are able to let yourself be vulnerable but this is not something I felt comfortable doing here. I felt she was prejudiced towards me for whatever reason and I absolutely did not feel comfortable discussing cultural differences with her. Contrary to what some might suggest, I do not feel like this about all white people, my first therapist, the late Angella Ryan, was white, with French and Irish ancestry but she was also an immigrant, and she was the first person to open my eyes to the inequalities I navigated every day. She saved my life. She was critical of me, but she built me up first. I never felt judged, I always felt she had my best interests at heart, I believe tough love is not completely without its virtues, if it’s coming from someone who genuinely wants the best for you. She knew I was perceptive and didn’t fear me for it, or try and minimise my gut feelings, she actively encouraged me to heed them.

I called in sick for my last session, I felt so heavy I could not open my eyes. I had a sore throat and was experiencing bowel issues, as one might with irritable bowels. A few days later I received a letter informing me I was no longer on their service as I had repeatedly failed to commit to attending and how she was right after all in her assessments that a local service might be more suitable to my needs, and with this came an epiphany; I was relieved. I wouldn’t have to appeal to disinterested and potentially bigoted professionals with coercive power that I was worthy. It dawned on me that my body knew before I let my brain accept what I had already intimated deep within me; that I was not thought of as an equal or someone worthy of acceptance by this person who had behaved in a way that is familiar, on a cellular level. My body reacts to microaggressions even when I am trying to fool my brain into complying with an illegitimate authority. Interestingly I touched on authority with the therapist, because she suggested I was a ‘rebel’ for standing up to historical abusers, instead of a ‘survivor’. Rebel to me suggests I have no respect for authority, and am a contrarian for the sake of it when in actual fact, legitimate authority is all I really crave. I have no parental figure in my life I can turn to when I feel weak, which is why illegitimate authority rubs me up the wrong way.

It was in her rejection that the most valuable insight was revealed; my body cannot abide bigots of any kind. I had a sick record to be ashamed of before I had my breakdown. I wasn’t making it up, I had operations on my ovaries, and a couple on my back. I have irritable bowel syndrome, fibromyalgia, hypermobility, CPTSD, anxiety, depression.. except there are sometimes days when I feel like I am in peak fitness. Those days usually involve a lot of laughter and love, I feel safe and protected and the world is just a blip on the horizon.

I’m kind of sick of feeling like my illnesses are of my own creation and that I could feel better if I just did xyz.. I eat incredibly well, almost nothing processed. I take vitamins and supplements, I do cardio and weight training, I take my dog for walks, I sleep 7-9 hours a day and I try to laugh every day. I try to remember to tell someone I love them and am there for them, and I let love into my life. My sicknesses are not for lack of trying on my part, they are a natural reaction to the racism and ill treatment of minorities in Britain, along with all the misogyny and sex abuse.

In this respect my specialist psychotherapist inadvertently helped me realise why my abiding patterns are so hard to let go of – they were never in my control.

Or at least, they could be, if I leave and never look back.

T S Eliot: a bigot, control freak and abuser of women

Like many of his treasured peers, for all their talent and genius, T S Eliot was a bit of a bigot. He made derogatory references to blacks, Jews and women in his work and whilst this is patently clear to the aforementioned, there are many who would seek to excuse his behaviour, though perhaps not all that interestingly, they are also white men. Eliot was merely providing a commentary on the actual racists, not ascribing to the words himself, as one ardent fan put it. No doubt they will rush to defend him on the latest charges, that he was a lovelorn romantic, not a controlling head worker insistent on having the final word, pulling strings from beyond the grave even.

T S Eliot and Emily Hale met when he was studying philosophy at Harvard. When Eliot’s advances towards Hale fell flat, he moved to the UK in 1914 and married Vivienne Haigh-Wood. Their 18 year marriage was described as tumultuous, which, as a feminist and women’s worker, I perceive as abusive. It was hardly surprising she ended up in a mental asylum, that’s just what they did with women who fought back, claim they were hysterical, lock them up and throw away the key. The silencing of women has evolved in its methods somewhat but as I can vouch from experience, the intentions/outcomes remain the same.

Emily Hale requested that Princeton University release Eliot’s letters to her 50 years after her death. I wonder why she left it so late, what prevented her from making them public at the time. Eliot hounded her for over 30 years, though in his recently released statement he claims to have seen the light after 20 years or so as to how ill suited they were because she wasn’t very intelligent or sophisticated, in a move reminiscent of modern day street harassers, how men catcall with compliments until they are rejected or ignored, then they turn and say you’re a dumb ugly bitch. T S Eliot was an entitled douchebro doing a 30 odd year stretch in the friendzone which leads me to suspect he eventually wore her down and made her feel unsafe. Perhaps people were starting to listen and believe her. Perhaps she entrusted his letters to the university because they were not safe in her possession. She couldn’t say anything whilst she was alive and such was his power, she left it a whole half a century before the truth of it all ever saw the light of day. Yet still he felt entitled to dismiss his own letters to her in a bizarre posthumous riposte, as the works of “a hallucinated man”, relinquishing agency, ironically claiming madness as an excuse for his fixation. Eliot had Hale’s replies to his letters incinerated by a friend of his, yet the narrative goes it was a consensual and passionate correspondence. Given that we only have his word for it, and any evidence to the contrary was destroyed, I am inclined to believe she wanted nothing to do with him.

“I tried to pretend that my love for you was dead, though I could only do so by pretending myself that my heart was dead.”

T S Eliot

This sounds like an apology for abusive behaviour “I only hurt you because I had to”, because “you made me”. He even plays the women in his life off one another, claiming Vivienne was the real muse because even though she “nearly was the death of me, she kept the poet alive” whereas Hale would have killed the poet thus robbing the world of his greatest works. Eliot’s literary contribution holds more value than the rambling words of a hysterical woman who would have killed his creativity. I am astounded at his cocksuredness, he reeks entirely of incel and I wouldn’t be surprised if his marriage was for show, to make Emily pay for spurring his advances. No wonder poor Vivienne lost her mind.

Like so many of the literary classics, Eliot hid behind his accolades so that he could do no wrong, despite the many ways he and his peers made the world a crueler place for its most vulnerable inhabitants. We reward them despite their racism and misogyny, allowing them to influence another generation who buy into the notion that art is suffering and to make good art, you must be emotionally volatile. I experienced it in one of my own adult relationships, and it’s made me cautious of writers, even preventing me from pursuing my own dreams, because I clearly cannot want it enough, if I am not willing to sink to the depths they do.

Gendered violence is romanticised, from Hunter S Thompson to Ted Hughes (Bret Easton Ellis and Jack Kerouac etc) and just because they refer to their victims as their ‘muse’, it doesn’t make it any less alarming for those of us who abhor violence in all its forms (but also) because we have have been victimised in this way.

We should all take a leaf out of the French publisher Gallimard’s book in its response to the investigation of Gabriel Matzneff, an 83 year old essayist who is alleged to have seduced another French author when she was just 14 and he was in his 50s. It remains to be seen why now and not any time in the last 50 years, as Matzneff has always been outspoken in his preference for underage kids, and this leads on to even more unsettling analysis of France as a soft touch when it comes to paedophilia, but the #MeToo movement, and the millenials who carry it aren’t going to shy away from the honest truth, because that’s the only way things change.

Justice Can’t Be Blind and Racist

(CN – discussion of suicide)

Last month a Boston student was indicted on an involuntary manslaughter charge after prosecutors revealed she had sent 47000 messages encouraging her boyfriend to kill himself in the couple of months leading up to his death. Inyoung You was said to have isolated Alexander Urtula from his family and it is alleged she was aware of the depression and suicidal thoughts brought on by her abuse. There was a similar case in 2017 when a Massachusetts woman was indicted for the involuntary manslaughter of her boyfriend after he died following texts and emails in which she told him to kill himself. For some inexplicable reason the district attorney acknowledged the level of control You had over Urtula wasn’t as significant as the perp in the other case but how they came to this conclusion remains to be seen (in light of all the evidence to the contrary).

This case has drawn my attention because it suggests precedence in the US regarding inducement to suicide for offenders who directly or indirectly contribute to the death of vulnerable individuals. It is interesting because in both cases the perpetrators were women, a fact we have to recognise in the greater context of criminal justice and sex discrimination (and the subject at hand) and how women (especially woc) are disproportionately criminalised.

It has been 6 years since I started receiving death threats including instructions to kill myself, in fact at one point Kiwi Farms ran a poll to predict my most likely outcomes, with suicide receiving the most votes. Kiwi Farms administrator Joshua Moon takes great joy in targeting vulnerable individuals who are already known to mental health services for a variety of reasons, myself included. I have complex post traumatic stress disorder from a lifetime of abuse, I had faced death at least twice before I was targeted en masse by Nazi incels keen to finish me off and take all the credit.

I almost obliged them at the beginning of this year when, unable to defend myself on social media against nazis alleging that I was a self proclaimed paedophile, having been maliciously reported and suspended and resigned to victimhood by the authorities who disregarded the threats to kill and rape me, I gave up and spiraled the furthest I ever have. It was like a fever had taken hold of me and it was in control and I could only watch from the outside; perhaps it was the only answer, perhaps then I didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

I got lucky, I have people who genuinely care. It took some months but I was myself again. Far from the white supremacist echo chamber that is Twitter I healed a little and doubled down in my efforts to make Moon accountable.

Sadly there were others who succumbed:

Kiwi Farms had about 200 webpages bullying a teenaged girl named Julie Terryberry and she killed herself. Kiwi Farms is proud of causing this suicide and brags about it.

A second Kiwi Farms victim named Chloe Sagal self immolated after being relentlessly cyberbullied on Kiwi Farms:

A third victim by the name of Chance Carmichael killed himself following a campaign of abuse. Kiwi Farms celebrated this suicide.

Nicholas McCrary was the fourth person to be goaded to suicide by Kiwi Farms and they celebrated his death too.

The fifth and final victim (for now) was a young YouTube star by the name of Desmond Amofah aka Etika.

Kiwi Farms have a kill count on their forum, they have expressed intention to cause as many suicides as possible and yet they have not received anywhere near the attention a young Korean woman has, for potentially causing the involuntary death of another person (fwiw I believe she is culpable but there must be parity).

What is American justice, if not the centuries old racist and sexist endeavour it always has been? Shame on Lady Liberty.

What did the Muslims ever do for us?

In the course of human history empires are a relatively new phenomenon, spanning only the last 3000 years or so. From the ancients to modern day Britain, empires are born out of violence and domination, spurred on by greedy men with a desire to rule over the earth and all its inhabitants. Empires control resources and dictate cultures. It is for this reason we must acknowledge all empires, for the duration of their rule, if we are to gain an accurate assessment of human development, in the interests of provenance and posterity.


Take the Moors for example. Neglected in the history books for the most part, owing to the Europeans penning said tomes, their contribution to humanity has been effectively erased or minimised because it stands in direct contradiction to the white supremacist’s creed; that savages were to be civilised from the depths of their spiritual ignorance. They burned books, and monuments of cultural significance, much like Isis did in Palmyra, to the shock and dismay of enlightened Europeans who condemned this destruction of world heritage. I wonder whether the world had reacted to similarly to the barbarism of the conquistadors, or if it had in fact reveled in the bloodshed, as it does today whenever there is a terrorist attack committed against Muslims. I imagine they came out with the same excuses then as they did now “Europe for Europeans!” regardless of the rivers of blood trailing down from the bodies of innocents whose only crime was to pray to the one true God via their own cultural lens. The genocide of the Moors was as much about the colour of their skin, if not more, than it was about a Christian God, as we can see in the blackface festivals celebrated by prevaricating bigots from Spain and Britain to the Netherlands.

 The reins of their (Moors) horses were as fire, their faces black as pitch, their eyes shone like burning candles, their horses were swift as leopards and the riders fiercer than a wolf in a sheepfold at night . . . The noble Goths [the German rulers of Spain to whom Roderick belonged] were broken in an hour, quicker than tongue can tell. Oh luckless Spain!

Quoted in Edward Scobie, The Moors and Portugal’s Global Expansion, in Golden Age of the Moor, ed Ivan Van Sertima, US, Transaction Publishers, 1992, p.336

Sure, the Moors were probably a frightening spectacle when they invaded Spain in the 8th century but as is the way of empires, wealth and security leads to knowledge, and peace, and eventually empathetic non violence. Empires reach their end when the leaders peak in terms of civility, unprepared for savage invading forces, unable to defend themselves against the onslaught of rabid violence. Perhaps this is why Britain can never just sit back and relax, always pre-emptively asserting itself with made up wars.

The world has chosen to focus on the demise of the Moors as a natural conclusion to the decree ordained by the lord almighty. They had provoked God’s wrath with their salacious ways and fallen out of favour. It is this notion that has sustained the skewed version of history from both sides of the conflict. Europe has effectively slut shamed Muslims into submission who cannot respond with a clear conscience because they bought into the propaganda (having suffered such a humiliating defeat) and now conduct themselves with the same terror inspiring zeal of medieval Christian soliders, whom God allegedly favoured, to appease Him.

Without the Moors, there would be no ‘Spanish’ guitar (guitarra morisca). This is what we mean by appropriation; the Moors are not celebrated like the British or Romans or Greeks, despite their many contributions in the advancement of humanity, they have been denied their historical dues by usurping Europeans who took all the credit. Moors pioneered many medical treatments, identifying hemophilia as a condition, inventing anesthesia for the purpose of surgery, and treating hydrocephalus for example. Groundbreaking and lifesaving methods such as how to perform a ligature were first documented in Al Andalus.

The Moors invented watches, a fact all Europeans should remember when they tell the time, especially given they also invented the first sundial to show time in equal measures where previous models varied according to the seasons. Where would we be without this vital innovation? If the Moors had never existed newspapers/books might never have been a thing. They invented a printing device 100 years prior to the ‘invention’ of the printing press. Ibn Firnas invented the metronome in the 9th century, during a time the Europeans referred to as ‘the dark ages’. Where would the human race be without any of these black and brown Muslim visionaries, for whom the dark ages meant a golden age?

My own ancestors, the Mughals, were a creative trailblazing peoples I am determined to resurrect. The first sugar rolling mills appeared during the Mughal empire. They invented the first hookah or water pipe, for the purpose of smoking tobacco. According to Wikipedia modern metallurgists “thought it was technically impossible to produce metal globes without any seams” until they were rediscovered in the 1980s, 20 or so seamless celestial globes created during the Mughal empire. I learned very recently that my ancestors had built Lahore fort and Badshahi mosque, not forgetting the Taj Mahal. Ah, that universal symbol of devotion, a wonder of the world, steeped in Mughal history yet neglected for that very fact, denied the care and attention that should be afforded to a world heritage site. India hates Muslims, it is quick to condemn and even kill them, for eating beef, among other things and stripping citizenship from millions yet it reaps the world’s praises for the creation of something it had nothing to do with. The Indian government has let it rot. The Taj Mahal is a painful reminder of the erasure and appropriation of Muslim ingenuity, pinned together by enemies of enemies, whose party line is a collective resistance to the creeping shariah of Islam, despite their own grievances and in-fighting. These relics are stripped of their roots, co-opted by coercive powers and serve as a reminder of how we (Muslims) have been subjugated.

I’ve never liked being a part of a group, I can only be myself one to one. I think group behaviour is terrifying. When groups of likeminded people band together, it no longer matters whether something is right or wrong, the majority has the power to claim up is down. I’ve seen adulterous affairs justified in this way, and sex abuse cover ups. I’ve been groomed in this way, isolated, misrepresented, because I wouldn’t toe the party line. A similar malfeasance has been inflicted on Muslims.

In my almost 40 years of experience on this earth I have learnt the difference between what they say and what they really mean. Christians invading India were shocked at the inhumane practice of sati committed by fanatical Hindus, whereupon the female spouse jumps, or is thrown, onto the funeral pyre, because she cannot exist without her husband. They condemned them as idolaters and savages and appealed to Muslim Indians as they (rightly) believed in the one true God. To the Hindus they condemned the Mughals as occupiers and destroyers of Hindustan, a country for Hindus. In this way they divided and conquered and continue to do so to this very day. Far right Hindutva and their mascot Modi brutalise millions in their quest for a Hindu state, supported by western nations who look the other way when Muslims are being slaughtered, see also the Rohingya in Burma being summarily executed by Buddhist monks (ffs) for an example of one modern day atrocity. Religion of peace they scoff, when mocking Muslims yet Buddhists extinguishing life in cruel and unusual ways has escaped everyone’s attentions. See the Israel/Palestine conflict for another example of white supremacist divide and conquer, effectively polarising Muslims and Jews who have historically fought together against the scourge of Christianity (see Moorish Spain).

Tyrants all over the world look to the British empire for inspiration. Hitler himself was an admirer of the British rule in India, it was what prompted him to enact his own genocide. The holocaust is widely taught and accepted for the most part, because the teachers are white supremacists who exemplify divide and conquer of ‘minorities’ and use it as a tool to silence other ethnic groups. When an African person speaks of King Leopold and his slaughter of 10 million Congolese and questions why this isn’t taught in schools like the holocaust is, they are not denying Jewish history or cheapening it by comparing it (as I was once accused when I warned that current events were a catalyst to holocaust levels of genocide) they are appealing for consistency. When I highlighted the similarities between the targeting of Jews in Germany and modern day Muslims in Britain I was chastised for daring to compare. 11 million Indians were starved to death by Churchill who redirected grain to British forces during the war. Was this not a holocaust too? Not when the history book writers are white, evidently.

In a world where white supremacy holds all the power and writes the narratives, a maleficence of biblical proportions has been committed against believers of the one true God. Christians have employed idolaters to act as their proxies, to protect their global interests, and will shun them when they are no longer effective. Historical allies have been pitted against one another and the flames are fanned periodically to ensure their estrangement. Muslims are caricaturised as uncivilised, barbaric, wanton in their misogyny and to be fair, many of them are, but they weren’t always like this, they weren’t always so broken and reactionary, they were made that way by Christians.

Perhaps if we acknowledged the real truth, the many contributions made by Muslims to the sciences and arts, and the pursuit of pleasure with inventions like chess, poker, and alcohol (how many words do you know prefixed with ‘al’?) such inventions that changed the course for humanity and propelled Europeans to their ‘enlightenment’, Muslims might not be so angry or even perceived as such. Europeans weren’t beamed down to earth by God as naive fledgling angels innocent of all crimes and wrongdoing, hitting every branch of the enlightenment tree on the way down, no, they appropriated the hard work of Muslims and denied the historical truth, leaving those famed rivers of blood in their wake.

The transference of white supremacists must be called out for what it is, the fear of a comeuppance, of the chickens coming home to roost. They keep the conflict alive.

JUST EAT DIRT

On the 14th August I had a couple of medical appointments, one just before lunch and another straight after. I skipped breakfast so when I returned after the first appointment I ordered some food and a coffee via Just Eat. I won’t include the name of the establishment for the time being as they know where I live.

I had a notification telling me the food was on its way. It’s an 8 minute drive from the restaurant to my house but on this occasion the driver seemed to be taking his time. 15 minutes had passed and I was sat on the edge of my seat, I hate taking deliveries when I’m expecting them, I can think of nothing else. Eventually the buzzer rang and I answered.

“FOOD” a male voice blared at me. I was startled at his tone, they’re usually very polite, identifying themselves as delivery drivers and asking if I’d in fact ordered food. I felt uneasy not least because I find men threatening (and so do most women if they’re honest) and this guy had shown aggression before I’d even said hello. I buzzed him in even though I was hesitant to, and figured if he was genuinely scary I would be my most charming self and kill him with kindness, a thing I used to do all the time growing up around white people, when one could never be sure whether this white person was a friend or a foe.

He seemed a bit unsure of himself when he saw my face and handed over the food, like he’d expected someone else. I guess when he looked at my name on the receipt he imagined he’d find someone in a hijab, there’s no mistaking the roots of my historically very Islamic name. He was a little less brash when he responded to my soothing gratitude, and then he was gone.

I took a little sip of my coffee to check if I needed to reheat and sugar it and then got the sugar and proceeded to add it to my coffee, using a long tea spoon to stir it up from the bottom. It wasn’t particularly hot but then I like my hot drinks warm, and it wasn’t so milky that a skin would form, nor was it frothy, just a plain Americano with a dash of cold milk.

Imagine my confusion/disgust/anger when I found this on the spoon.

I was sickened and immediately called Just Eat who advised me to leave a review raising my concerns with the restaurant and they would investigate and respond to my complaint within 72 hours. After a week or so of waiting I decided to contact them again and spoke to them via their internet chat service. They apologised for not getting back to me and said they would have it resolved within 72 hours and asked for photographic evidence (which I had already sent).

They were more efficient this time, getting back to me within minutes and said they were doing their investigation and should fulfil their promise of a refund, as I was advised by them when I first complained. A short while later I received this.

So I replied:

So here we are. Just Eat didn’t respond to my last email and I’m sharing it with you. See, this is what we mean by white privilege, when we say even working class white folk have the edge over us, because they don’t have to worry someone is interfering with their food. Poc are attuned to the way the air changes when you’re in close proximity to a racist. How they need not say a word or even give you a glare, when most won’t even make eye contact in all fairness, to get the sense that this person hates you unreasonably just for the colour of your skin or way your name sounds.

I will never forget the time a racist Irish guy tweeted at me that he was a farmer in Ireland and despite food safety standards forbidding the use of pig manure on vegetables, he would do it just to spite Muslims. That’s what racists want you see, for us all to be afraid at all times, to never know where the threat is in the crowd. I’m not personally bothered by any kind of manure but the twisted joy this ape got from telling me felt threatening.

We have to live like this and there are still people who would rather chastise me for rising up against it than tell the aggressors and no hopes to back the fuck off. If you had to question every decision you make a bunch of times, if you had to safety plan, and be left out of pocket instead of ‘causing a fuss’, and not for the first time, doing the most basic of fucking things, nourishing your body, wouldn’t you be a little bit angry and ‘unhinged’? £11.50 isn’t a lot of money but it is when you’re on a low income and marginalised by your disabilities.

I won’t be using Just Eat again. I mean, let’s face it, this isn’t the first time they fucked up, this is just the most appalling. Like other big name capitalist hell hounds Just Eat put profit before people of colour.

A positive mental health story

When we talk about mental health it’s always about the suffering that goes with it and the judgments other people make about the mentally unwell. We very rarely talk about recovery and the magic that sometimes happens when you achieve the unexpected, without even trying it would seem. I might be underestimating the work that I’ve done or perhaps I’m not sure what exactly triggered it but I’m going to share a couple of things that have happened to me recently that can only be linked to a traumatic event that I’ve somehow neutralised.

For over 30 years I could not eat strawberries. I’d manage a strawberry yoghurt, enjoy a strawberry milkshake but the actual fruit, bleurgh, it made me feel nauseous. I thought they were too tart and when overripe smelt a little bit like death. The pockmarked flesh can’t have helped, I do have moderate trypophobia. It was strange because my twin sister adored them and would eat them by the punnet load. I wasn’t always like this, as a small child we often went on family trips to local farms where we’d pick fruit and veg and spent an entire day rolling down hills in the sunshine (these being some of my fondest memories) sneakily eating strawberries along the way as we overfilled our baskets but I also recall the sick bag that inevitably featured when we’d overdone it, in the car on the way home. It was usual to go off a food if I’d suffered as a result of consuming it but it never lasted very long so I didn’t think this explained why I hated strawberries so much. That is, until I suddenly found them palatable again and examined what had changed.

I’d hit a stage in my recovery where I was actively healing the wounds that had left me so isolated and started naming the cover ups that had ensured my descent into mental instability. You lie about who you are long enough, you either buy into it or you suffer a breakdown, the latter being my destiny. Naming my own faults and vowing to rid myself of false virtues I’d picked up like fleas and having the opportunity to reconnect and share and lean on others, I felt safe enough to delve into memories that were too painful to bear, up until now, because I was remembering who I was before the labels slapped on me damaged my sense of self. I know in my heart that my dislike of strawberries came from an event that was cruel and played on my bonds with my loved ones. I know that as a small child it probably felt like dying and I made this association with the nearest thing to hand. All organic things smell a little bit rotten when they’re at the riper end of their shelf life, mangoes for example, but I can’t get enough of them because I’ve only ever had good connections, like my mum lovingly handfeeding them to us with the sun beating down outside, refuelling her brood with good energy. Food is very much connected to our interpersonal bridge with our parents and early hardwiring can affect us for the rest of our lives unless we work intensely to strip it back and start again.

My dad dying a few years ago coupled with the opening of sealed doors in my mind changed something in my perception of strawberries. They’re really actually rather good. I don’t need to know exactly what it was that created this barrier in my baby brain but I’m choked that I can do something about it if I stick with it long enough. Our dad favoured my twin and strawberries were her thing I guess? Perhaps with his passing I can have them too? He snatched food out of my hands on a number of occasions, laughed at my distress. I can’t help feeling this is connected.

The other tiny miracle that just kinda randomly occurred to me, I can suddenly do percentages in my head without panicking at my complete inability to do anything with numbers, save basic arithmetic. Aged 10 I was coached for the 11+ and the times table was drummed into our heads by our father who resorted to violence if we stuttered. I was actually in the top set of maths all the way through high school until aged 15 I ran away from home. When I returned after a few months, because the school in London was so awful, my previously motivated and interesting maths teacher had had a complete personality change and was suddenly a bit of a dick. He’d been off sick with shingles in my absence and came back completely disinterested in his students. It must have really knocked my confidence because I became convinced I was bad with numbers and didn’t care because I was obviously more creative anyway.

I think I’ve proved to myself since my breakdown that I am capable, and remembering the past, how I was brimming with self esteem aged 12, which was the last time I remember feeling sure of anything, has reminded me who I am at my core: someone who stands up in the face of injustice to my own detriment because the alternative is unacceptable. I feel personally responsible for the world we find ourselves in, for all the years I toed the line and enabled coercive power, all in the hopes for a seat at the table. Coming to terms with a world that doesn’t reward talent or integrity and actively sets out to destroy it, that has been healing I guess? Resolving the past and coming to terms with my elders exactly as they are not as I would have them, has unlocked parts of my personality I’d long buried, to appease the green eyed patriarchy and minimise myself so I was never a threat to anyone which ultimately bit me in the butt when I was that much easier to victimise.

Learning that it is possible to change instilled behaviours, all it takes is a couple of weeks to lay down new pathways, making the past the road less well travelled every time you do things in your new way, has been liberating. Others might still judge me for the person I was aged 25 but that’s because they’re incapable of changing themselves. They judge others as they would judge their selves.

I’m excited to see what other things become available to me on my recovery journey.

Joshua Moon and Kiwi Farms implicated in promotion of NZ terrorist

Kiwi Farms have been linked to the New Zealand mosque terrorist; both Brenton Tarrant and Josh Moon frequented 8chan before Moon was essentially pushed out for having extreme views and interests even the other nazis couldn’t stomach, like paedophilia. In light of this information New Zealand and Australian authorities had requested Tarrant’s data from Kiwi Farms host Moon, who decided he would still broadcast the footage of the massacre despite it carrying a lengthy prison sentence in most countries. Even facebook, that great enabler of white supremacist fake news took down the 1.5 million copies made by users in the first 24 hours but Josh has other ideas.

Such is the entitlement and narcissism of Joshua Conner Moon, this was the reply he sent to New Zealand Detective Senior Sergeant John Michael.

narcjosh

Imagine making yourself an enemy of an entire country. This is the real face of Joshua Moon, an incel who has been hounding people on the internet for more than 5 years, who’s somehow evaded justice even though he is implicated in at least 2 mass shootings (not including NZ) and four suicides (of vulnerable people targeted for their protected characteristics). I have personally been on the receiving end of this harassment and bullying since 2013, when these freaks were still claiming to be protecting video games from girls and despite my protests that I couldn’t give a stuff about gaming, the abuse was relentless. It has left me housebound and afraid, as if my existing mental and physical disabilities weren’t difficult enough. I almost gave up a few times but I wouldn’t let them have that satisfaction.

I pleaded with journalists and politicians alike and was largely dismissed and silenced because acknowledging white supremacy would have legitimised my activism. Now we have multiple mass shootings and a crisis that could have so easily have been avoided had the mainstream media and the right-wing government heard our pleas instead of punishing us. They said we were entitled attention seekers but we suffered the most. At times it has felt like they’re working together, and I’m still not convinced that they’re not. Lives have been lost and many more ruined, their victims are countless.

For those of us who were able to reach out and connect, to do something, anything, to make these monsters accountable, we smoked them out where we could and identified them (work that should have been done by authorities) and doxxed them the way we had been doxxed. There were pleas from the usual liberals to consider our actions and how two wrongs don’t make a right but when it comes down to it, no one did a single useful thing to help us. Without the power to do anything else, we did what we could to claw back some control over our own lives. For example, in the UK we have the joint enterprise law that could see British users of Kiwi Farms charged with being complicit in a crime even if they did not personally commit it, but if they could have prevented it or indeed if they encouraged it, they can be handed a sentence equivalent to that of actually doing the crime. These ideas have been floating around for a while now but progress has been slow. We can only discuss it, the authorities have the power to act.

I thought to myself, something really deeply horrendously wrong has to happen for this to get the attention it deserves, to take Kiwi Farms and associated forums like Baphomet, Encyclopaedia Dramatica, lolcow etc etc off the internet using guidelines from the UN guide on prevention of genocide, if local laws fall short. There was the shooting in New Mexico but nothing happened even though two victims lost their lives. The attempted mass shooting in Canada didn’t get the attention it deserved either. The self-immolation of Chloe Sagal who felt she had no other choice but to kill herself in protest. The other suicides we know about and the ones we don’t. Now New Zealand has the world’s spotlight on it, Australia too, for birthing the terrorist who took 50 lives, some of them children. There are Kiwi Farm members in New Zealand. In Australia, Canada, the US, UK and across Europe. One report suggests the UK has 5 of the top 10 white supremacist extremist sites based here.

There weren’t too many of them back in 2013, that was the impression I got but platforms like facebook and twitter let them connect. We were suspended and banned for fighting back but they’re still on there. Tech giants have a lot to answer for.

Please do something before they do it again.

_______________________________________

This is the latest dossier on Joshua Conner Moon and Kiwi Farms cyberbullies:

https://pastebin.com/w2XmXVyk

https://archive.fo/N2rvu

https://www.pastefs.com/pid/102480

https://archive.fo/QRHtd

https://paste2.org/nb4E5teP

https://archive.fo/msgSn

https://slexy.org/view/s20gtJof2H

https://archive.fo/Bmf6r

https://paste.ubuntu.com/p/RgSX589Xfh/

https://archive.fo/OURfs

https://paste.sh/XS5HgMDe#BGUnefq2MAE2QQmfaPzzuJo5

https://archive.fo/q37M8

DWP death squad strikes again

As you may already know, I won a PIP tribunal on the 22nd February, more than a year after my payments were stopped. They reduced the rates I was entitled to and although I feel this is incorrect I won’t challenge it because I want as little to do with the authorities as possible. Prior to this win I was in receipt of Employment and Support Allowance at the reduced rate of £245 per fortnight, because disability premiums were removed along with personal independence payments. My rent alone was £550 a month never mind bills and other expenses.

With PIP renewed I was due a backdate of various premiums. PIP is a passported benefit meaning it enhances any other benefits you might be claiming and unlocks others. Imagine my surprise then (not) when I received a letter from ESA a fortnight after the tribunal informing me I was no longer entitled to it because I failed to attend a work capability assessment on the 21st February. That was the day before the pip tribunal.

esa

Never mind that I had already spoken to someone at the benefits centre informing them I could not attend two assessments in as many days because I struggle to ready myself for these interactions at the best of times. Never mind that they had insisted I attend an assessment a few weeks prior to this and my non attendance was met with a visit from an official who reported back to them that even a home visit was a distressing event, as he personally witnessed. Never mind that my representative had supplied all the paperwork that was made available to the pip tribunal on two separate occasions to two different departments concerned with ESA, who kept insisting communication was slow but now that they had everything, it wouldn’t be a problem.

They still cut me off.

This is a deliberate move to destabilise me. They did it last time I applied for pip, in 2013, told me I was coming in for a pip assessment, used that to deny me ESA (they tell you to relax in pip assessments as they are not assessing your capability to work). Now that I am in receipt of pip, I’m down £245 a fortnight. I’m actually worse off because pip only amounts to approx £300 a month.

I’ve faxed all the paperwork over to my rep along with my statement of entitlement from the pip tribunal. No doubt it will take some weeks to clarify, as it always does.

120,000 dead from this government’s inhumane policies and I could be one of them, were it not for the exceptional support I get.

 

 

 

Knife Crime is a Symptom of the Hostile Environment™

The rise in knife crime across the UK is baffling only to those who never consider the impact of their actions on others. Perhaps those who find it incomprehensible are lying, they know exactly why, they just don’t care. The government has promoted an hostile environment, it is of their creation, the current crisis.

Our young people are growing up in a society that has actively encouraged division and sowed discord where they could have fostered tolerance and understanding quite easily. I know, because that was my childhood in the 90s, a multicultural melting pot where brown and black people were rooted in British culture and Britain absorbed the best of ours too. It was some kind of rose tinted utopia pre 9/11, when laws protected us and racists were afraid. There was a clear sense of right and wrong. No blurred lines on racial slurs and racist propaganda. It’s not that racism didn’t exist (which it always will) just that measures against hate were enforced by the system somewhat. Slurs were asterisked in print for example. ‘Accidental’ racists were shunned not excused. The BBC exposed the institutionally racist police force, ffs.

The Bobo doll experiments in the 1960s demonstrated that children learn by observing adult behaviour. 60 years of knowledge we have so far failed to implement in the running of our societies. Kids today are witnessing hatred and bigotry on mainstream news channels from mainstream politicians. They’re being told their differences make them a target. Safe spaces are denigrated, we’re special snowflakes for insisting on them and toxic patriarchy is all about ‘real men’ who don’t carry babies in papooses. There is no end to the constant violence and posturing, grown adults are upping the ante everywhere, no compromise, no resolution, just a burgeoning threat that is overwhelming our children’s senses, affecting their ability to cope, leading to poor impulse control, because they’re frightened and have not yet learnt to channel that appropriately. Grown adults in the government are actively targeting children in their policies; so many plunged into poverty this past decade, so many denied an opportunity to learn, their days passing by in a blur of boredom and fear. Is it any wonder they’re dying?

Sajid Javid said we should treat knife crime like a disease when it is just a symptom of another kind of affliction, that is, social cleansing implemented by his government. It can be treated. Their hostile environment has seeped through to the children who will suffer most as a result of Tory policies, long after the monsters are gone. As a child born under Thatcher I know only too well. That brief period in the 90s when we had positive black and brown role models on TV on all of the terrestrial channels, when shows like Goodness Gracious Me clapped back at the white population and it was received in good humour, when we actually believed that hard work and motivation was all you needed to succeed, we felt we had a place in this world and only time would reveal our fortunes. Children these days have no hope, that’s the message they’re bombarded with, that the planet is dying but experts are no good. They’re going to school to learn but they’re being told learning is worthless. There’s no guarantee of a job, or a life. They matter to no one. They’re injured by these feelings and they react.

This tyrannical government must be removed from power and held to account for the many thousands of British citizens who’ve died under this administration, by any means necessary. Fuck calling the army in, oust the unelected tyrant and choose community. End austerity and replenish local services. Bring back the education maintenance allowance and cut extortionate uni fees. Invest in our young people, they are tasked with rescuing the planet and what remains of our humanity. One day they’ll have to look after us.