Sexism

24.89.105.126

Dear hostmaster(at)accesscomm.ca,

Please find attached screenshots of abusive messages from IP 24.89.105.126.

I’m not sure what you’re going to do with this information as nobody seems to care about this kind of thing, but I’m hoping we haven’t slipped too far down the rabbit hole just yet. It says to report abuse on this email and that’s what I’m doing.

Yours despairingly,

Sam

2489105126 2489105126dickwad

How to report abuse when they call you a liar?

It’s been an odd week on Twitter. I’ve felt reluctant to check in, not least because it’s made me acutely aware of the disparity between the empathy afforded to white women in contrast to women of colour and in doing so, it has made me feel worthless and redundant. I am not sure what the point is to anything anymore.

When I made the mistake of accusing the wrong person of racism, it didn’t matter that I had suffered it for many years before or that I would experience a sudden and severe escalation as a result of a murder that had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH ME, on that occasion white people, male and female, held me up as an example of how privilege politics were deeply flawed, as if somehow my mistake said something about the intentions behind the whole of intersectionality. They manipulated the truth and bullied me despite the apology I issued of my own volition. The person I offended had accepted my apology and I was sincere in asking for forgiveness but it was too perfect an opportunity for people steeped in privilege and power to mock and denigrate our lives.

Intersectionality didn’t cease to exist because I’d got it wrong. If anything, I’ve been made even more aware of how we are all unequal. A white woman with a platform made others like her aware of my existence, a misunderstanding was exploited. They thought that I would go quietly, they failed to reiterate for my benefit how they wouldn’t want anyone to be bullied off twitter, as they did for each other, my thoughts, my feelings were obviously unimportant. I left for a short while but I didn’t disappear. It was as if somehow the worst had happened, as though I’d faced my demons and now I was committed whether or not I was happy about it. I was called names, I still am, I have been threatened with rape and death, I speak about these things candidly on Twitter, but nobody freaks out on my behalf. They objectify me, belittle me for my illnesses, opine on everything from my period to how I’d make a bad mother. It has been sustained and increasingly more personal. The people doing this are mostly men and all of them are white. They say it isn’t harassment or bullying but are keen to point out they hound me for my comedic value. My life and the issues I face are a joke to them. They’re ‘skeptics’ you see, it’s the (mainly) white man’s right to uncover the truth and yet they failed so spectacularly on this occasion because white unity. It’s easy to take my words out of context and glue them onto other words I tweeted, maybe not even from the same week, to make it look as though I am deranged and deserve the nastiness they relish throwing my way but they don’t realise how unoriginal they are. If they thought they would somehow gaslight me into submission and I’d admit that I was a faux forriner then they couldn’t be more wrong. Their actions fuel my anger. As a woman of colour, I am expected to withstand abuse without complaint. I thought at one time that I would keep a diary of all incidents but quickly decided there was no point. What could be done about it anyway? Well, if I were a white woman, the media might have paid a shitload more attention. Twitter would have taken me seriously and I would also probably feel entitled enough to personally approach the most powerful man in the world and ask him what he was doing to protect me. A week of rape threats and misogyny? Try 7 months of racism, sexism and ableism.

Tell me, why should I have to suffer my trolls gladly? Where was your outrage for me? Do I deserve the threats and mockery aimed at me? The treatment I receive is not confined to Twitter or my blog; racism, sexism affects my life everyday. When I reported a fascist to the police for implying he was involved in the firebombing of Muswell Hill Mosque, I was asked about my motivation for reporting him. I’m not sure whether white British people are asked about their motivations for reporting crime but again, it made me question the point of pursuing a charge. Did I really want to provide a statement and risk going to court where a quick google search will reveal the lies posted about me? I am aware that information has made it so that I have to suffer threats in silence because white Britain simply doesn’t believe me.

To endure the unacceptable and have your experiences dismissed, to be accused of dishonesty, to be denied, minimised, made to feel as though you are worthless, that is the life of a person of colour. As one knob put it, even the term PoC, defined by people of colour is not valid: “what’s wrong with non-white?” How any feminist can allow this to happen to another woman and then claim her feminism is for all women, well, can you see why I call bullshit? HOW do you expect I’m going to feel about Jane Austen when prejudice blights my life? Why is this important when women of colour are being attacked on our streets for being a different skin tone?

I didn’t withdraw my support to the feminist cause, I was abandoned. For as long as women like me are excluded from righteous attempts to smash the patriarchy, feminism will never thrive. Instead it provides a constant source of amusement for the white menz in power, they’ve been playing this divide and conquer thing for quite some time.

The White Supremacist’s War on WoC (Trigger Warning)

I was thinking about writing this piece a week or so ago but was struggling to think of an introduction, there were many issues I felt I had to raise but couldn’t decide which would go first. You may have read ‘It’s not about me’ where I purged the horror of the injustice currently sweeping Britain, it was a response to all those critics who twist the points activists are trying to make into the delusional ramblings of a narcissist. Well, I think I made that point. It’s not about me; it is about all of us. If it happens to a random person on the street, it could happen to you. Unfortunately, it very recently happened to me too.

After a safe night with close friends, my best friend and I boarded a bus home. We were among the first to get on so we took the two seats closest to the front on the top deck. Usually, a male ally of ours escorts us home from wherever we are, at great cost to him. He lives about the furthest you can get from where we’re based. So on this occasion, we reassured him we’d be fine. Engrossed in conversation I felt safe with my female friend. We look after each other.

The bus slowly filled as the clubs closed their doors. Behind us, a young male started sniggering and leaned towards us to mumble something. Initially we just stared at him, trying to process what was happening. When he wouldn’t give up, I asked him to stop because he was interrupting an important conversation with my friend. This male was beige. Y’know, coloured. His right hand man was white. The two of them continued to goad us, with what I can’t even remember, because of what happened next. Scared and angry I raised my voice and announced these men were harassing us. The bus jeered. They told us to shut up and stop making a scene. Now raging on adrenalin, I told the man if he didn’t back off, I would have to smash him. Suddenly I was faced with a bus full of people who thought we were wrong. Shaking, my friend and I turned to sit but the boys would not let it drop. Spurred on by the reaction, they continued to swear at us. It was like a bad nightmare. How could this be real? And then the white man called me a paki.

I stopped for a second. Time slowed down. I looked at my bare legs, my uncovered hair and my then my friend’s face. (He didn’t, did he? Yeah, yeah he did. But what are you gonna do about it Sam?) I was thinking. Then I bellowed what he said to the rest of the bus. A crowd of white faces cheered, some white people looked awkward and the black man I picked out rolled his eyes in disbelief but then looked down at the floor. The white male lunged at my white friend and she pushed him back. Both of them were on their feet about to attack us.

Seating on the seats adjacent to us were a young male and female. They were strangers but had been making gender appropriate chit chat. The male suddenly shot up and told us we should leave the bus. I responded not a fucking chance in hell and the boys would have to leave. We compromised when the strange couple swapped seats with us. The young woman, outwardly appearing white middle class attempted to sympathise “Well, I’m Jewish so I know how it feels” but she was one of the ones laughing when it was all kicking off. She overheard me talking to my friend about the unacceptable thing that had just happened and defended herself by saying it was nervous laughter. Dunno about you but I have never laughed when ANYONE has been racially abused. Could she have white privilege?

I’m not going to report this to Tell Mama UK. Y’see I’m not Muslim. I’m just brown. I wonder how many other non-Muslim people have had to endure an attack like that. I’ve received the odd tweet and word about friends and friends of friends having to defend themselves but how many other PoC are facing this kind of persecution? How many do not report? How many suffer in silence? I have respect for the organisation for making some of us aware of what is happening but I probably can’t turn the other cheek, ever. I am hoping that standing up to these pricks will make them think twice about harassing another woman ever again. A man ‘splained to me once how we were making it worse for ourselves by fighting back. No. If we don’t, we maintain the status quo. Granted, some people find it more difficult than others and there are reasons why some people can’t but I for one will shout and scream when my personal space is invaded. My body and time is mine. Random strange men do not have an automatic right to me.

What is it about men that allows them to behave towards women of colour in this way? My friend was also abused, no doubt, but she acknowledged the additional traumatic stress of racism. The two pronged attack that WoC contend with on a daily basis. They hurt us because we are women but also because we are not white. They see us as being relatively vulnerable compared to white women. They see us as easy pickings.

When the fascists attacked the pregnant Muslim woman in Paris, she appealed to them for the sake of her unborn child. They responded by kicking her repeatedly in the stomach. How could the foetus survive? I wonder if there is a huge Catholic campaign against fascists kicking unborn babies out of Muslim bellies. If there is, I’ll be happy to hear it exists. Preserve those lives that are wanted.

However, it is worrying that the pregnant woman in Paris has become the focus of all the media regarding attacks on Muslims. Google ‘Muslim woman attacked’ and every story is about the forced miscarriage. Google ‘Muslim attacked’ and bar one or two incidents, the focus is still on the same story. When our sister in India lost her life to a brutal gang rape, the media reported very little on other rapes and most people believed it was India’s problem. Rapists did not stop raping, the media stopped reporting. It sensationalised a single case. That is what is happening now; Muslims and other non-whites like me are being attacked but as long as the problem lies with one pregnant woman in France, we can ignore it. Except how many people know she wasn’t the only Muslim woman to have suffered in the Paris suburb of Argenteuil? I wonder what happened to the other three.

What about the 212 victims in the UK? We know some of them were mosques but I’d be interested to see the male/female ratio. There have been seventeen incidents of assault including 11 cases where racists attempted to remove Islamic clothing. I wonder if they are all women too.

This assault on women of colour, this war they have constructed, it is iniquitous. People in power, stop expecting those oppressed to find better ways of defending themselves and banish those who seek to oppress them.

Or else admit you “literally couldn’t give a shit about it”.

It’s not about me (TW)

It’s about the pregnant 21 year old Muslim woman who was beaten so savagely, her foetus was stillborn.

It’s about the 18 year old activist Clement Meric, beaten so badly he was left brain dead.

It’s about the young woman from the North of England knocked unconscious when she was attacked from behind.

It’s about the Muslim boarding school that was burnt down whilst the boys lay sleeping. Two of them were treated for smoke inhalation.

It’s about the 78 year old grandmother beaten for being brown and defenceless.

It’s about my comrades; black, white, Asians, Jews, queer, trans* and everything in between.

It’s about protecting them from Nazi/police brutality.

It’s about the state questioning my motives for reporting malicious communication regarding Muslims and suggesting my offence was borne from my religion. I have repeatedly told them I am an atheist.

It’s because we are brown and not white British that we cannot respond to YouGov polls questioning the threat against the ‘indigenous’ population. Personally, my 31 years of citizenship mean nothing.

It’s when they ask how British Muslim communities can protect themselves, not how they will ban the fascists hurting them.

It’s about my little nieces and nephews and their futures. I wish them long lives.

It’s about the focus on braaaahn perpetrators and paedophiles whilst the white ones get away with 15 months in prison cos 13 victims aren’t as serious as Savile’s 1300.

It’s about the soldiers who sexually abused minors in Afghanistan but escaped punishment because of the effect on THEIR families. What about the minors and their families?

It’s about the solider who punched a woman in the face but escaped punishment just because he’s an outstanding soldier otherwise. That’d be murdering civilians I guess.

It’s about the systematic rape and abuse perpetrated by Western forces in countries around the world.

It is about the value of a white life compared to the valueless non-whites.

It’s about changing our names, wearing their clothes, eating their food and still being rejected for not being white enough.

It’s about the fascists’ right to protest. It’s about the police facilitating hate.

It’s about people of colour being openly racially abused on our transport system. No fear of reprisal from their attackers but a sense of entitlement.

It’s the fact that police are reporting 8 Islamophobic attacks a day where there was previously 1. Why didn’t we nip it in the bud?

It’s about reverse racism and the audacity of white people to suggest we control their lives in the same way they control ours. This denial of power and control dynamics is offensive.

It’s about the way whole communities of non-whites are treated as a hive whereas white people are individuals.

It’s about the systematic monstering of non-white men whilst white men are free to abuse women and children and retain their hordes of adoring fans.

It’s about the accusations those in power throw at us; that somehow we’re just doing it for the kudos, instead of defending the right for everyone to live a non-threatening life.

It’s about the ease with which WoC are erased from the narrative, by painting them as delusional, hateful and provocative. Cos of course, we don’t ever tell the truth.

It’s about the abuse women in hijabs suffer. Somehow they are more controlled and oppressed for covering their bodies. Uncover yours and see them blame you for your own rape.

It’s about the white men attacking women in hijabs. Clearly the men are too much of a challenge.

It’s about those non-whites so desperate for acceptance that they support the oppressor. Token non-whites need help.

It’s about the way the media do not report the impending threat to non-whites everywhere.

It’s about the way terrorism has been defined as an act of defiance against the white majority. When non-whites are terrorised, they are simply being hated for who they are.

It’s about the way they sneer at you for ‘attention seeking’. Damn right I am seeking to draw attention to the unacceptable systems of control we are under in this godforsaken world. Solidarity with all likeminded activists.

It’s about the parallels modern day Britain draws with genocides of yesteryear. The dehumanisation of groups of peoples.

It’s about our ‘comrades’ allying themselves with people who wish us dead. No platform for bigots, ever.

It’s about the way victims are required to be humble and vulnerable to establish their victimhood. Defending oneself makes you just as bad as the other. Erm no, doesn’t work like that.

It’s about the accountability all Muslims face for uttering the words “Allahu Akbar”. Can’t see us asking the same of the queen when the fascists sing her anthem.

It’s about the way we are dismissed for being educated middle class academics on the fringes of actual people of colour’s lived experiences. Couldn’t be more wrong could they?

It’s about the everyday murder, rape, brutality faced by those considered subhuman by the white people in power.

It’s about feeling the pain of others who share the colour of your skin, your sex, your environment.

If you don’t understand that, then you are part of the problem.

Smash the Kyriarchy

Google ‘Sam Ambreen and Helen Lewis’ and you will see various blogs written by both of us but also two other names. One of them is a prolific misogynist whose life’s purpose seems to be undermining the feminist cause and the other, a woman. Apparently she’s a lawyer called Anya Palmer.

How am I supposed to feel about this? In terms of intersectionality, there is a very definite ‘us’ and ‘them’ and right now the ‘them’ is a coalition of those two. Each has an agenda to slander and vilify me as a lying, manipulative woman of colour. This is about the easiest representation of a kyriarchy I have come across.

Elevatorgate wants feminism to disappear so he spends his time trawling through the net seeking ways in which to damage the movement. Anya Palmer wants to discredit ME as an intersectional woman of colour and so she employs the same tactics as the former, loosely stringing together the worst bits of the whole incident, storifying and screencapping the shite out of anything I say. Challenge Anya and she blocks you.

These people don’t want discussion, they just don’t want us.

I see no difference in the two.

Smash the kyriarchy. Smash it all.

Still I Rise

I have been seeing a therapist coming on 3 years. That’s how long I guess it takes to fix a breakdown. I’ve had cognitive behavioural therapy to unwrite the pathways in my head and process life in a way that means I won’t just stop breathing. I used to do that quite frequently and without realising. It’s only when my head would swim or I’d get hit with pangs of nausea that I’d notice I’d been sat holding my breath. The resultant sensations would make me want to self-harm and that was my life for a couple of years until the therapy started to take hold.

After the Mary Beard incident, I was really excited to see my therapist. I wanted to tell her how well I’d coped. Coping is something I’ve been learning to do. Years of being silenced, of being disbelieved left me unable to deal with the most basic of situations. Without therapy, the mistake I’d made would have finished me. I would not have been able to admit that I had done something wrong because the toxic shame that feels like internal bleeding would have rendered me incapable. Instead I would think of all the worthless valueless things I’d been called and would take it as confirmation that I must be those things. I wouldn’t have thought to apologise because I would have believed that my apology would be of no consequence and instead would be used against me as a sign of weakness. I really believe this is why Caitlin Moran finds it so impossible.

But I did apologise. Admittedly I experienced the initial gut churning realisation that I had made a monumental mistake but I also knew that I could overcome it. I understood that I could learn from this. I acknowledged we all make mistakes, sometimes catastrophic. It is how we deal with them that makes all the difference. I’m not infallible. I do my best to empathise and I want to understand everything, that’s why I have this need for transparency. So I steeled myself for the fallout. I hadn’t, however, banked on being made an example of when privilege politics gone wrong in a move orchestrated to discredit our progression as intersectional feminists striving for equality for all, not just the white cis commentariat.

I apologised to Mary Beard because I had offended HER. I wasn’t ‘called out’; I was jumped on by someone with their own nasty agenda. Weeks of being shown for the bigots they are and the first time once of us slips up, it’s time to take us all down. I didn’t wait for someone to point out my mistake, I realised it myself and did what I could to make amends. First and foremost, I immediately apologised on Twitter. I also blogged it. I started following Mary because I wanted to learn more about her, and she followed me too. I wanted to learn from this experience. I thought about it many times in the weeks to come, that old cringe that creeps up on you just as you’re about to fall asleep. But it also made me think of how I’ve always felt uncomfortable calling out racism, because of the way it can be turned back on us. In this instance I’d got it so very wrong. But it reminded me of the time a workmate would sing “there’s a brown girl in the room” whenever I’d walk through the door. Or the white ex-boyfriend who told me it didn’t matter how much white people allied themselves with non-whites, most of Britain is the Daily Mail variety. In doing so he’d further compounded the paranoia that brown people like me feel whenever we are in white company. It could be anyone.

Helen acknowledged that I had made an error due to ill health. She would have made this decision because, before the incident that day, I had actually been tweeting the pain I was in. I have a spinal injury and complex PTSD. There was no excuse for my false allegation which is why an apology was made in full. Understanding privilege does not give people the right say and do what they like but it does give people some idea as to WHY something happened. And it provides the platform for respectful discussion. It doesn’t take away the harm perpetrated which is why I wanted to ask for forgiveness. I didn’t do a Caitlin and block my critics, I listened. When the brain fog takes over I try not to succumb to it. I want to understand and compartmentalise what happened and so I take it apart. I realised then that Helen was going to make a show of me. But I also knew it was a very tenuous link she was making and that I was an easy target. This isn’t the first time I’ve been scapegoated. In fact, it is a part of my disorder!

To randomly come across a Storify that I was assured would be deleted was disheartening to say the least. I didn’t understand why it was back up. I thought it was underhanded and kicked myself for trusting someone who had clearly wanted to vilify me. Why was it still there? Only I couldn’t ask Helen because she’d already blocked me. Through dribs and drabs of incoherent tweeting, I saw that she was unhappy about a blog I’d written. I wracked my brain thinking about where I might have offended her. I’d mentioned Mary in a couple of blogs but no real link to Helen anywhere. And then, I saw someone mention the post “There’s no point in online feminism if it’s not intersectional”.

I don’t talk about her at all. In fact her name is tagged on the post but I don’t specifically mention her. I do take objection to the author of the Mean Girls post though. In a debunking of her outrageously misogynistic piece in where she admits to wanting to behave like teh menz, she wrote some very damaging things about the feminist movement. It is my right to debunk a piece which is given a platform like the New Statesman. Did Helen take offence because she was the one who published it? Whatever her reasons, how can she justify republishing something she said she would take down because of the circumstances of that particular day? Am I not allowed to have an opinion now? If, in the future, I am racially abused, can you all discredit me with this one example of when I got it wrong? I’m not super human; I will probably make more mistakes. But I will damn well try to understand why they happened and how I can prevent them from happening again.

Why aren’t we allowed to learn and grow from our mistakes? When is it ever ok for a woman in Helen’s position to falsify a set of events and present them in a way that will encourage people to abuse me? There’s a set of people eager to point out how stupid I am and also the ableist bunch who think I am lying about my health. Or if I’m not lying about my health, then I should refrain from having an opinion. Move over Harry Potter, I need your cupboard under the stairs.

This is why we’re doing the intersectional thing folks. We’re giving those people you wanna shut up a voice. I’ve had enough of silencing. That’s why I’m ok with Helen leaving her skewed version of events up. This incident has strengthened my belief in the cause more than ever before. These are the people we are fighting. They are not our allies. If they were any good at feminism the last time round, i.e. including women like my mother and trans women like my many wonderful friends, we wouldn’t still be in this shit heap of a patriarchy.

When the patriarchy attacks my female critics, they have an ally in me. When their allies attack me, they call me a ‘cunt’. My feminist critics make an example of me.

WE ARE NOT ON THE SAME SIDE.

Dredging up a 3 month old incident is not good journalism, it’s desperate.

There’s no point in online feminism if it’s not intersectional

Since we’re looking for the least privileged woman in the world I’d like to nominate my mother. True, she lives here in the West and has never gone hungry (well, at least for no more than a coupla days) but I think she’s somewhere near the bottom and a good a place as any to start.

My mother was born in a village in Kashmir. She was the fourth of 10 children and 1 of 8 girls. Her father was a community doctor and so earned a reasonable enough wage but with that many children they were never what we might think of as well off. So much so that Granddad worked hard to save enough money so that he could give his daughters a decent enough dowry. The plan was to marry them off as soon as they hit puberty thus lessening the burden on the family as a whole.

She was barely 16 when she was packed onto a plane ready to begin her new life in Great Britain. She had barely enough of an education so that she could read letters sent to her in Urdu by her mother, my nan. She was just a child. But one my grandparents couldn’t afford to feed. And so she was palmed off on the first willing man to take her on. My father was 10 years her senior and didn’t want to get married. Or at least he did, but not to her. He was in love with a woman of mixed heritage and his mother, my paternal gran was determined it wouldn’t happen, she hadn’t brought her boys to this new land only for them to mix it up. She and my grandfather had a way of ensuring their children did as they were told, mainly through violence and coercion. My great grandparents had been Muslim scholars, feared and revered by the community in Pakistan. They had a reputation to protect and this came at any cost. My grandparents were the product of an extremely insular and strict manifestation of Islamism. As a child I heard my paternal great grandmother was beaten to death barely a few months after the birth of my granddad’s younger brother. This, because she had sat on her brother’s bed, whilst he lay recovering from an illness. It was too much for great granddad’s male ego and honour. “That’s just the way they did things” was the reply I got when I protested my family legacy through tears. “I’ll show them,” is the mantra I’ve had my whole life. I will be a feminist for all my foremothers; I will take back what was stolen from the women who came before me. A life, namely. An education. Bodily autonomy. Sexual freedom.

But my mother, now divorced and estranged from me, still suffers. We don’t speak because I am alien to her. From a very young age, I believed my emancipation would come from allying myself with the white feminist. I wanted what they had. As a very small child this meant the freedom to dress as I wish and associate with boys. That’s as far as my struggle got through my teens. But as I got older, I continued to behave as my white peers did and this widened the gap between my mother’s hopes for me (she really wanted me to be an air hostess) and my desires for equal rights in a man’s world. She won’t speak to me because she is afraid of what I have become. She won’t give me the opportunity to explain I did this for her.

As soon as I was old enough to hit the men back (15), I dragged my mother away from the community she knew and set into motion the process to divorce her from my father. During this time, I gullibly confirmed to the white workers who were trying to house us in temporary accommodation that the men in my family were savages, bringing with them the patriarchal controls they had back home. When fleeing domestic violence the local authority has an ‘interim duty to accommodate’ and as I rolled out the reasons we were presenting as such, it suddenly dawned on me, I was lucky to be alive. Domestic abuse, child sexual abuse, poverty, homelessness, religious/cultural demons, immigration issues (read racism), disability, isolation, self-harm, eating disorders.. This was not an exhaustive list but my small family had been victim to them all. Sure, I had internet access at the time but I didn’t see it as a privilege, more of a necessary escape. That’s a very silly thing to say Sadie. And it is your privilege that allows you to think like that.

I wish my life had been a little easier. I wish my mother had the right to an education so that she was self-sufficient and might have kicked my dad to the kerb with her dignity intact. But she didn’t. After 20 years of unfaltering duty, irrespective of the abuse she suffered, my father granted her a divorce and gave her £6000 for the trouble. That’s how much she was worth in the end. Her body ravaged by pregnancies she did not consent to, her children traumatised and displaced. She put the miserly amount he’d afforded her towards my younger sister’s nuptials. Because, despite the living hell she’d endured, she was still afraid the community would judge her for her unmarried daughters. This is also where I fell short in my duties as a daughter.  I don’t believe in marriage and who could blame me? But my mother doesn’t see it like that. The patriarchy has controlled her life since forever and although she suffered as a result of it, it still governs her thoughts, she doesn’t know any better.

If I’m a bit mean, frankly, it’s because I’m fed up. Suzanne Moore blocked me on Twitter a little while ago. I can’t even remember what for but I was reminded of it when I tried to RT the fuck outta her tweet asking for James Delingpole to admit he’s a misogynist cock. I joked that it was a shame because even though I had my issues with her, united we would stand in the face of patriarchy. I’m assuming it got back to her because later on that evening I was able to RT with abandon. Why couldn’t Sadie Smith leave well alone? By writing her piece all she’s done is pander to patriarchy. Hell, she even admits to wanting to behave like a misogynist. How is that EVER ok Sandie?

Could it be that privilege allows you some control? The privilege of having a voice or a face that fits so that you can use a platform whichever way you want. “Feminism is not bullying and beating up other women.” Haven’t you done exactly that, Sadie?

As a result of my life, I take pills. There are the ones that keep me on an even keel and the ones that work directly on my spinal cord and brain. When I accused Mary Beard of racism, I was horrified and immediately apologised, but I was made an example of when privilege politics go wrong. I’d unwittingly caught the tail end of a Twitter storm and was held up as an example of ‘stupid’ intersectional feminists using the race card at will. I wish I had the privilege of a clear, sharp mind. I wish I could pick the days when the fog takes over; I could plan my life a bit easier.

If I’m mean or angry, couldn’t you at least try to understand why? That’s what we intersectional feminists do. We understand that some of the stuff that happens in life has profound and lasting effects on people. None of us ask to be born for if we did, I’m sure we’d all tick the white cis gendered box. Nobody would choose an existence where you are overlooked/beaten/murdered for the colour of your skin, or choose to be disabled or *trans.

It’s just how we were born and all we mean to ask is, why am I not as worthy as you?