Posts in feminism
Witch Riot (Again)

I don’t care about your definition of when “life” starts. Your definition of when x becomes a human. A baby instead of x inside a womb. A tiny human with rights and a personality and a chance of being someone in this world, worthy of protection. Worthy of more protection than the already existing human who carries x inside of them. We don’t have to debate that. We can agree to disagree on when and where and how.

I also don’t care about what god(s) you pray to. I do not care about what you believe happens after death. If we have souls, and where they origin from. You have the right to pick and choose whatever you believe in when it comes to things we cannot scientifically define. Especially if that ideology have no effect on other humans. Some days when I feel like shit I imagine a god, sometimes I imagine the possibility of other worlds. I imagine reincarnation. I see auras, I believe in my horoscope. I read books, watch films, and I live more in that made-up world than I live in this real one. Because temporarily it makes me feel better. And those thoughts do not harm anyone else.

Feel free to have your own beliefs, by all means feel free to believe in something if it makes you feel better about living in this world with so many questions and such few answers. Whatever makes you sleep at night, believe in it. Fill your days with magic if necessary. Believe in nothing at all, if that makes you feel the best. Whatever tools you want to use in order to become a better human for this planet, use them.

Believing in something on a private level, and making it into law however is a completely different thing.

There is one question where my answer will always ring loud and clear and with such certainty, whereas other answers to other questions are filled with doubt. The question is do I trust womxn. The answer is yes and always will be yes.

The question of abortion is a strong one for me, and should be for anyone that cares for me and other womxn in this world. The answer will always be that I do not have a say in how a womxn wants to go through with their pregnancy. They know best. They can make the choice all on their own. They know when to keep x growing inside of them, they know when it’s time to let x go. I trust them to know that what could have been a dream is not a dream, but a nightmare. I trust them to make the right decision, because the only right decision is whatever they decide. We do not get to have a say. We should go on with our days, with gratitude knowing that we would be faced with the same respect and trust from society if that very difficult decision ever had to be made by us, this time regarding our own body.

When people, mostly men but also other womxn, wants to argue about whether or not abortion is right or wrong it infuriates me because we should not be having these conversations. Stop masking your “ideology” in this question as intelligence; as truth; as if we needed your point of view. You, with your harmful views, do not want to “save children”. You want to not trust womxn. You want to decide for them. You believe that womxn are dangerous, that we are not smart enough ourselves. That we need guidance in this world. Just like the Christian God punished Eve for making her own decisions, having free will. You can pretend it’s nothing like that, that you’re progressive because you read opinion pieces on the internet now. But it sounds all the same to me, it sounds like you don’t trust womxn. And that distrust comes from a deep rooted hatred of womxn. A deep rooted misogyny so well disguised you do not even notice it’s there yourself. I know, because I’ve internalised that hatred myself.

You do not trust womxn. You think a womxn would kill a baby to get out of minor inconvenient situation. You think they wouldn’t think twice about carving themselves up to kill a human being, just because it was an inconvenience to them. When does life start? When a baby can live “on its own (using high tech science)” outside the womb? Is it a human, then, or before? Before that, as a blood clot not bigger than a cheese doodle? Or sometime in between? Tell me, if a slug appeared in front of you, it had a heartbeat but not much else, but you knew that in 20 years time that slug could become a functioning human being - would you kill a womxn in order to save the slug? A living, breathing, womxn, standing in front of you. Would you throw away the womxn into poverty, depression, despair, only because maybe - just maybe - that slug could become SOMEONE of importance in this world. You’re not gonna make sure that happens, but the possibility is there, surely. Nevermind that the womxn also could be someone important. Never mind them.

I’m getting sidetracked. Because again, the definition doesn’t matter. We have no way of knowing, we all believe in different scenarios. If you believe that womxn will kill innocent babies unless you stop them, you have a serious problem with trusting womxn. I know so many womxn who have gone through abortions, and they always make the choice based on their own situation, what it requires. They decide to do the right thing. I have done an abortion myself. It was the right decision. There wasn’t a baby inside of me. It was. Something. An x, a fertilized egg, a fetus that could never have been a human. They (some abortions) exit your body the same way they came. Not meant for this world, not now, not yet. Some of them not bigger than a heavy period.

Have you ever seen a period? Have you seen chunks of blood collected in your underwear? Perhaps you should stare at it, once a month, before you’re allowed to have an opinion. It doesn’t have to be your own blood. Learn to sympathise with other people who have horrors you are privileged to be excluded from. Perhaps you should fill your body with unwanted and wanted sperm aka liquid filled with “potential babies” again and again and again. Feel the sharp and hollowing pain of unwanted penetration. Feel the joy of the wanted union. Then the fear that follows, when the magic is gone. What if? What Will I Do? Because for a brief moment it will be your choice and horror to deal with, and yours alone. Men will not care until it’s too late. Until they don’t trust you can make the right choice. It is up to you, it is your secret to carry, but God Forbids if you make the wrong choice. We Will Not Help You. There is only shame and grief and it belongs to you, the lesser one.

Most womxn I know who have had an abortion, and every story I have ever read about someone having an abortion, all tell me the same thing. That it was the right choice. It was a painful decision, for some an easy one, for others life-changing - filled with sorrow. But they are not regretful. It was the right thing to do. By making the most difficult and horrible decision of their life, they saved their own life. Or the lives of the future kids. Sometimes both.

Abortion sometimes means taking out x when x is already dead. A ban on abortion means a womxn have to carry out the pregnancy with a dead thing inside of them. Or a living x, who will at the first breath of air die in plain sight in front of the womxn due to foreseeable health conditions. Nine months of physical and emotional pain that could have been avoided. Abortion sometimes means taking a pill to stop the growth of x, so that the womxn can continue school, continue working, continue a healthy relationship (or end a bad one), continue with their own health being first priority, continue knowing that x’s health was first priority too. Because they knew that bringing x into this world would do x no good, not now, not here. You have to wait, or sometimes not come at all. Abortion means trusting womxn to know when the right time is for x to grow inside of them. It is their body. It is not a vessel. You do not have a say in what goes on in their uteruses.

Don’t we want a world with wanted children? You say, “But I Do Want This Specific Child To Be Born”. I say I do not trust your love for babies and humans. I cannot see the evidence that you are a caring person. Look at the already living, what do you do for them? What about children without parents, are you caring for them? What about marginalised people, are you fighting for their rights to thrive in this world? Are you helping out where help is needed? Where’s your guidance when it comes to injustice, poverty, racism, ableism, classism, sexism? Why is your voice so loud when the opinion regards a womxn’s right to choose over their own body, but so silent once a baby actually is born?

How can I make you understand, listen, HELP? What do you want to know? What can we tell you? How many womxn do you need to hear from before you comprehend that abortion is a personal choice and that the womxn is always making the right choice, always. How can we make you trust us? Trust that we are not evil witches with a purpose to kill babies just so we can live out our own desire to live in your so-called sin? How can we make you support us instead? Comfort us? Go through the fire with us instead of spitting on us for making the choice to go through the flames, ignoring the fact that it’s Our Only Way Out.

As you can tell this topic is personal. As you can tell it makes my blood boil. It’s almost like I can feel my witchy ancestors, exhausted and angry, riling up inside of me. Sighing: really, again? We’re doing this, still?

The Patriarchy Will Fall (And Other Good News)
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Welcome, welcome first Monday of March! With every passing day it's getting warmer and brighter, and I can't tell you how much we all need it? Collectively? If you survived February without a hint seasonal affective disorder I need to congratulate you and tell you that you were one of the few lucky ones. For most people I know, this winter has been tough. As the world is growing smaller, I have a feeling we're more inclined to be absorbed by each other's sense of desolation. With more accessible information, we also now know more about ourselves (and others) than ever before: we're learning that our behavior could be a sign of something else. The realization makes us sad, as we go deeper into our wounds. It's not all bad, since in order to heal you need to realize that healing is what you need. Rather than being an endpoint, it's a start. 

Anyway.

Last night Andrew and I were watching the Oscars in front of our fake fireplace. How gorgeous was the set-design? I was blown away. Shape of Water might have deserved Best Film but Timothee Chalamet should've won Best Actor. This weekend was a good one; we walked on the beach, I got a job offer and we went to our first apartment viewing. I developed a cough, but apart from that, I was as happy as can be.

Earlier that day, we went to Canada Place to visit the Outdoor and Adventure convention, mainly to attend one of the photography workshops. It's amazing how photography is still so dominated by older men. What amazes me more is their confidence in their own art. If only women could let themselves feel the same pride in their art? The same self-respect? Imagine a world in where women all over are taking up space and being celebrated for it, in where they celebrate themselves for their own achievements (small or large). There's a quote by Swedish singer Lisa Ekdahl, which once translated goes something like this: "The patriarchy will fall, within your lifetime". Repeat it over and over again till it becomes the truth. 

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Att Knappt Ta Ingen Plats Alls

Tänker ofta på hur det vore att ta ingen plats alls. Hur det är så inpräntat i mig som kvinna att jag ska vara så liten som möjligt, att det till och med blir önskevärt även fast jag ”vet bättre”.  

Vill ta mindre plats både fysiskt och psykiskt. Vill ju definitivt bli smalare, mindre. Sådär gulligt liten, så folk vill ta hand om en. Sådär så att alla kläder liksom blir för stora. Vill att mina kindben ska synas, vill kunna ha ett tomt utrymme mellan låren, där folk kan kolla igenom. Inte bara för att det skulle göra andra så mycket mer bekvämare, men det hade varit skönt att inte konstant gå och tänka på ens storlek. Att kunna gå in i vilken affär som helst och pröva vilket plagg som helst och allt skulle passa; världenskulle vara gjord för mig - här passar jag in. Inget märkvärdigt här inte. Tänk dig att faktiskt kunna använda riktiga friluftskläder. Sportkläder. Tänk dig att se ”hälsosam” ut, även fast man kanske aldrig rör på sig och äter strips varje dag. 

Jag vill inte bli liten på det viset att det ska märkas. Vill inte behöva kämpa så värst mycket - vill inte bli känd som hon som var så stor och verkligen fick kämpa för att bli mindre. Vill inte ha den uppmärksamheten. Helst ska det komma av sig själv. Kanske av att jag blir lugnare; att jag redan börjat ta mindre plats mentalt. Spenderar mest tid för mig själv, tränar, och kanske har blivit vegan av andra skäl än hälsoskäl och nu råkade jag bara bli smal av det. Sådär svalt smal, så folk blir avundsjuka. Tänk er en cool mamma, som alltid varit lite valptjock innan barn men nu efter har liksom mamma-stressen gjort att hon naturligt tappat massa i vikt. Nu är hon coola, smala mamman. Som tiger, som håller sig till sig själv. Henne vill jag va!  

Hur långt kan man ta det, kan man försvinna till och med? Det vore ju lite av en dröm. Att hitta ett litet, litet hus nånstans. Lagom stort för mig och hunden (vill ju inte vara helt ensam). Där bor jag, och är tyst. Klagar inte så värst mycket, det finns ju då mycket fint i världen. De små sakerna i livet. Små. Smått. Liten. Lilla jag. Gulligt. Ett smalt ansikte. Tänk att va så liten, smal och gullig att man nästan gick sönder. Skönt att äntligen ha en ursäkt för att frysa. Man blir inte ens arg när gubbar och gummor och män och kvinnor säger ”men lilla gumman”, för ja, man är ju liten. Man har ju iallafall lyckats med det. 

Jag inser hur skämtsamt det låter. Inser att smala, små människor tänker ”ha, om du bara visste hur mycket jag lider som liten och smal!” Men hur deppigt det än låter, önskar jag vissa gånger att jag kunde lida sådär som ni gör. För det är så himla jobbigt att vara stor, att ta plats. Det är så jobbigt att vilja bränna upp alla bilder folk tar på en. Jobbigt att inte kunna se frisk ut i andras ögon. Jobbigt att få kläder i present av andra och behöva ljuga och säga att dom passar nog säkert. Jobbigt att inte ses som lyckad. Jobbigt att konstant ses som utmanande och vulgär när en har tajta kläder på sig. Jobbigt att sitta på offentliga platser och ta, tja, plats. Jobbigt att aldrig vilja ha t-shirt, eller svänga med armarna. Eller ha byxor där dallret syns igenom när man går fort. Jobbigt att njuta av ett bakverk. Jobbigt att köpa glass när man veckohandlar. Ja, ni fattar nog. 

De stunder då jag känner mig stark, självsäker i min storlek. När jag känner mig vacker; duglig. Vet då att det inte kommer utan sjukt mycket jobb innan. Sjukt mycket övertygelse och tjat. Känns som jag lurar mig själv till att tänka annorlunda. Att det är okej att ta plats. Att det är okej att vara stor. Att det är okej att vara ful, jobbig, annorlunda. Att gå emot strömmen mentalt är extremt energikrävande. Att tvingas, för sitt eget bästa, ändra tankesätt än den som finns gratis runt omkring oss i samhället är ett jobb i sig. Därför önskar jag att jag ibland bara kunde bli mindre, så jag kunde sluta behöva streta emot. Bara ramla ner i normerna. Inte behöva engagera mig eller bli upprörd, bara leva mitt lilla liv i min lilla kropp och inte göra någon upprörd bara för jag existerar. 

A Bird; A Plane

perhaps it was the bad audio, but i couldn't truly get into dunkirk. it looked magnificent, but having a good cinematographer nowadays won't save your film. it was intense, yes. there's no denying the tragicness of the story. no denying its importance in history. but i couldn't shake off the fact that war was created by men, fought by men, won and lost by men. and now men are making films tributing their ancestors. there's a couple of women in the film, giving out sandwiches. taking care, of their lost sons and husbands. but in war films the braveness doesn't come from a cup of tea: the braveness comes from doing the extraordinary, something only a man can do. 

i get it, there were only men in the war back then so why would a film about the war have more women in it. and it shouldn't. however, i'm just personally so tired of all these stories of men. we're here now, glorifying honour in war. in war. who created the war? who created all the wars? i'm not going to say only men, but i am going to stand behind the fact that dangerous masculinity ideals; the patriarchy, is the reason behind war. not religion. pride, yes, that stems from masculinity. what about the women in history who have started war? well, what would you have done if you grew up in a family celebrating harmful and inhuman masculinity. even if we look around today, at all the dangerous leaders in the world. and their followers. they're not being led by a woman wanting to care and give out tea. boys will be boys, i guess. 

yesterday was a glorious day at bray air show. planes are absolutely magnificent. there's a childish thrill that comes along when you watch a plane up close. hear their engines. see them doing risky stunts. i almost cried when the irish coast guard came by and waved from their helicopter. we'll be there for you, we'll take care. from my memory there was one female pilot at the show, which isn't surprising when only 3% of women are pilots. there are many reasons behind the 3%, and this isn't a fact-based post so i'll skip it for now. 

men thought it was weird that girls were having such a reaction to wonder woman. they don't understand that everywhere we go we check in: are we being represented. is there a woman here? if you're a part of a minority group that becomes even more evident and important: where are people like me? are we once again watching white abled-bodied men doing what they do best (which is everything)? dunkirk didn't involve me. not only because i'm a woman, but because i just didn't belong there. i'm just a spectator. and sure, that's probably how many people felt back in the days; i mean who belongs at war (except for the people that start them: push them forward)? 

this blog celebrates softness. my life celebrates softness. in women. but also in men. femininity doesn't exclude machinery such as aircraft. making shapes in the sky, dancing through the clouds, making people feel things is not something that belongs to men alone. and i guess i'm tired of history thinking that it is just that: a boy's thing. boys get the toys. they get the hobbies; careers. they get the chance for big emotions, for making people proud, for doing magnificent things. they are celebrated and worshipped. they also start wars, they rape, they beat the women they love, they don't talk about their feelings which lead to mental health problems for us all. but lets forget all that and let's watch an old war machine in the sky doing things we are not allowed to do, and let's admire.