Why are Feminists such man hating bitches?! Jeez.

YES you heard. Why are feminists such man hating dick heads?

It isn’t men that are the problem for women, it’s other women.

You’re basically on a rampage out to get men because you got hurt by one once and won’t let it go.

You’re obviously so far up your arse you’re coming out your fucking ears.

Why are you inspiring a culture of man hating, your opinions aren’t relevant to men of today.

No-one fucking cares

Over the past year I have been battling an impossible battle against Facebook users, there’s only a few but some are so persistent I have had to block and delete them for my own god damn sanity. Like a bear at a circus I’ve been being poked and prodded at and nagged at whenever I should share something slightly Feminist on my Facebook page and I think it’s safe to say I’m getting pretty pissed off. Above are just a few of the most stupid responses I have received in backlash to my posts and trust me there are many more that make me too angry to type. Some people feel the need to argue the toss with everything I put on Facebook and force their opinions on me that my idea of Feminism isn’t relevant, is outdated and damaging and when I read this I literally want to dive into the computer screen, drag them out and fucking kick them in the face.

I appreciate that people have different view points and they have every right to speak out, speak up, I support that! But guess what…so do I. So forgive me for not enjoying the continuous barrage of shit I have to put up with, off of people who don’t actually know me at all on a social media site which is predominantly used for sharing vines of kittens and making out your life is better than it is to your “friends”. I think if you don’t like it then don’t read it and if you want to put your point across do it well and do it kindly, but don’t continuously aggressively argue with me, it’s draining and pointless and quite sad to be honest.

So I felt compelled to write about this on my blog so that I can get one thing straight about my beliefs and opinions and WHY I post what I do onto my Facebook page, so I don’t have to keep repeating myself – I am a Feminist based solely on my experiences as a woman since as young an age as 12. I’m not just jumping on the Feminist fashion wagon that’s found it’s way picking up the majority of Brits and high-profile celebs throughout it’s 2014 tour, I’m a Feminist because I need to be, because I’m sick of the shit that still goes on in what you people are telling me is an equal modern day, and I’m sick to death of being put down by men who feel that the male ego is being attacked by women who just want a test-tube baby future and all women leaders.

What I really want to address in this article is the most common preconception that I hate all men and if I had a chance I would set them all alight and let them burn in the fiery depths of hell. Shock horror boys and all you anti-feminist supporters, this isn’t true. I appreciate men, I have a Dad who I love and respect, a long term boyfriend who again I love and respect and have always had loads of male friends. I know this is going to be another shocker but in no way do I think I am better than these men. Yes I’m a Feminist but I still appreciate someone being a gentleman and holding a door open as I would if a woman did it, it’s called being a nice, polite and friendly person. I’m not going to jump down your throat if you offer to help me do something, hey! Let’s do it together. And in no way do I believe that women are the superior gender, though sometimes I might have a bit of banter with you that they are, just like you will tell me that I belong in the kitchen to wind me up, but we can do that from time to time as long as you don’t try to force me in a kitchen and I don’t try to kill off the male race.

What we can’t ignore is that for all the lovely men that aren’t sexist misogynistic pigs there are a handful of men that embody the entire reason why Feminism exists. Just like on the flip side there are women who don’t treat men equally and by all means protest, protest, protest against it. But these men I refer to when I share Facebook posts regarding women’s rights are the ones who truly do believe that they can put their hands on me in the street, on the bus, in the club and that is a perfectly moral action plan to attempt to use me a as a blow up doll when I’ve been too pissed to function. And before we all jump on me screaming WELL DON’T GET PISSED THEN! Don’t be silly, everyone makes mistakes, everyone gets drunk, I should be allowed to have shitty life experiences just like everyone else without trading over the rights to my body. Just like I should be allowed to wear what I want and not be at risk of some idiot letting the blood that runs to his 4 inch dick take over his moral compass and attack me. End of.

There are people that come into where I work and ask for a man to explain to them how certain products work because they trust a man’s knowledge more than a woman’s despite the fact we have had exactly the same training.

I’ve spent ages chatting away to someone I worked with on a project when they’ve suddenly grown tired of it and come out with “…Sorry, so are you going to fuck me or not?”

I know people who have been called a waste of a woman because they don’t want kids.

I’ve been told I’m too attractive to be intelligent and also that I work too hard to be pretty.

I’m sick of being told to smile because I look prettier smiling by strange passers by yet I’ve never experienced a man get told to smile because he looks more handsome. If you don’t like my face stop fucking looking at it.

I felt the need to dye my hair brunette when I was 17 because I was sick of people calling me ‘blondie’ and constantly implying I was stupid and an air head. I hated it.  Funny how blonde males don’t get the blonde treatment.

There are men that think the best way to end rape is to give women a curfew rather than punish the attackers. Well now you’re just fucking yourself over, men get raped too right? So why don’t they get a curfew? Please don’t tell me it’s because our safety is more important.

I’ve been physically attacked by a man because I told them to stop fucking touching me as I tried to get through a busy club. He saw red immediately and practically threw me into a bar and continued to do so repeatedly.

I’ve spent my whole life up until this point as a young, vulnerable woman thinking that my worth has been in my appearance and not my intellect and have tried desperately to seem appealing and sexy because the media has told me since the day I started taking it all in that this is what I was meant to become. Yet I have also found myself at the age of 14 running from men that have pulled over and tried get me in their car because I’m ‘jail bait’ and been asked by a 70 year old man who was forcing his body on me at a bus stop if I wanted to be the star in his ‘home movie’ and that he could make me famous if I went home with him right then and there whilst people looked on. I was simply trying to go into town. He followed me onto the bus and sat next to me I had to get off in the middle of nowhere.

The list could go on and on and on and you only need to take a glance at the Everyday Sexism campaign to see what is happening.

Perhaps this small glimmer into my reasoning helps you understand better why I seem angry. I’m angry because I’ve been fucked over by an ideology and I’m angry because when I speak up about my experiences I get told I’m inspiring a man hating culture. Basically it seems to me that people just want me to shut up and keep taking the daily abuse.

I suggest that next time you read a post of mine where you feel I am bundling all men into one category you use your brain to understand that I’m not directing my anger at you, you my dear man who is not the man I describe above, the kind of man I would happily sit down in a pub and have a drink and a chat with, but the other wankers I have come across in my life. And next time you decide to reiterate to me that my view is outdated, and not relevant I ask you to look around and ask yourself why there are so many people, both men and women, who feel angry just like me because they know tomorrow they will come across someone who will try to oppress them using gender as an excuse.

I ask you kindly not to judge my life when you haven’t lived it and tell me what experiences I have and haven’t had and trust that if I post something Feminist on my Facebook page regarding a certain type of man or experience it is probably because I have experienced it personally and it has made me angry and I want to share it and find a release for my anger. Not that I feel like male bashing, hating or accusing.

I am a Feminist because I want equality for both men and women, because I feel that I’m being attacked just for wanting to be treated like a human. You don’t deny racism a voice, you don’t deny homosexuality a voice or child abuse so why would you deny Feminism a voice, and what you probably are too busy to notice whilst you are telling me what to think is that by supporting Feminism you support gender equality, and therefore in turn also support the male voice and man’s rights to express your gender however you so choose.

I am a Feminist because I believe everyone should have their own rights to an education, rights to be political, reproductive rights, rights to their body and a right to live their life however they wish to. It is a support system, a sisterhood and brotherhood that supports every man and woman’s human rights, not gender righteousness. So really, why do you keep arguing with it.

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I’ve never felt immortal…

I can’t remember one point in my whole life in which I wasn’t keenly aware that my life is a ticking time bomb, programmed to go off at any minute and that minute I am not allowed to know about.

If anything I am almost obsessive about reminding myself day and night that one day I am going to die. In fact I’m so aware of my mortality that whenever I start to think of heading up for bed at night, my eyelids drooping, limbs aching I have to mentally ensure that I am prepared for any near death experience that I may be confronted with throughout the course of the evening. I have weapons at the ready for burglars and serial killers. I have my first aid knowledge brimming at the front of my mind ready to assess any symptoms that may appear during the 9 hours of darkness and I am seriously comfortable with dialing 999 and admitting myself to A&E at the slightest twinge or pinch. In fact it is safe to say that my awareness of my mortality is about as alert as they come.

(I think this is a touchy subject for me).

In response to this post I now really wish I could think of a time when life was simpler, when I thought I would live forever, where we didn’t live in a world full of dangers and disease, when we were all invincible. But yet, on the other hand although that idea is nice, safe and cosy I think that being aware of my mortality changed my life for the better when my concerns started to grow deeper when I moved away from home at 18. Counting down the days until I was going home for Christmas I was wondering why time had to go so slowly! But then I started to realise in the midst of my concern one day about the passing of time and how slow or fast it takes to pass, that time was the greatest gift you can ever be given. I thought suddenly that there was no point getting frustrated over how slowly time was going because I knew every single second that ticked by I was one second closer to going home, and those seconds do not slow down or speed up. It makes you a very grateful person when you realise that time is constantly moving forward, you can’t stop it you can’t control it, rewind it and god forbid fast forward it you just have to sit with it second by second and it can be taken from you at any time, so each second counts.

At this moment I understood why I was so obsessed with worrying about my unbeknown fate. It wasn’t necessarily the fear of pain or the unknown, but the fear of losing the people I love after all these years of creating memories with them, spending my time wisely and frivolously – sharing it with someone other than myself. I have a fear that my time will be taken away and I will no longer have those seemingly dull and mundane seconds sitting round a table eating with people, laughing together at terrible television, walking, sitting and standing together. I would even miss sitting around spending time with myself, which I have never particularly liked doing…

Where would my stream of consciousness disappear to?! My brain is always whirring, always talking to me even in my sleep it’s showing me films of dreams and nightmares,  what would happen to it when I die? Will it just be silenced?

I have a fear of time. And how little I can manipulate it for my benefit. This makes me really wish I was immortal so I wasn’t always aware of it being spent before my eyes.

No, I have never felt like I was immortal and never had a sudden realisation of my mortality but I do know that I try to make every single second count. Just sit for a minute and watch as the seconds pass you by steadily, rhythmically, continuously. Think about everything you have to be grateful for in that very second, and live.

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