Making it Weird: what I didn’t say when you called Hillary Clinton a man.

It’s Saturday evening. I’m lounging on the sofa with my feet up. I just spent an afternoon exploring parks and forests around Olympia, and I’m beat.

My lovely hosts are in the kitchen, chatting with their housemate and her boyfriend about the latest election news. I’m half listening in between idly mucking about on Facebook and Neko Atsume. This is a Bernie house. My hosts’ housemate is always delighted to hear how much I know about the US primaries. Me? I’m torn between interest in what’s happening and a deep sense of annoyance that I have to care so much about what Americans do. I wish the US was as passing an interest as any other moderately-large country in another continent. It’s not. I have to care. And that’s not these peoples fault, so I listen and work to understand their perspectives. I even find myself agreeing with many of the things they’re saying.

Hilary Clinton photo
Does she even wear dresses, though? Photo by kakissel

Before long, the conversation turns to Hillary Clinton. They don’t name her. First she’s “her”. Then someone refers to her as “that woman”.

Housemate’s boyfriend snickers and says “that man in a dress, you mean”.

I say nothing. Continue reading “Making it Weird: what I didn’t say when you called Hillary Clinton a man.”

Making it Weird: what I didn’t say when you called Hillary Clinton a man.
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Frivolous Friday: vegan foodporn of the Pacific Northwest

Happy Frivolous Friday! I’ve been on holidays for the last two weeks- doing some heavy-duty relaxing around the Pacific Northwest. I even got to spend a couple of days with a very familiar face (and a couple of familiar kitty faces!) who’s every bit as delightful IRL as online.

Remember how last month I wrote about deciding to go vegan? While that’s been really easy when I’m at home cookin’ up some yums, try and have lunch outside and it gets.. tricky. At least, back at home it does. If you’re very very lucky there’ll be one option. If that happens to be covered in things you can’t stand (my nemeses: onions, cilantro and mushrooms) you’re outta luck. Hope you’ve brought something with ya.

So when I opened up a menu to be told that every single item could be adjusted for omnivores, vegetarians or vegans? Oh myyyy. Yes please.

A few minutes later, this tempeh Oly Cheesesteak arrived. It did not survive much longer than it took to take the picture. Continue reading “Frivolous Friday: vegan foodporn of the Pacific Northwest”

Frivolous Friday: vegan foodporn of the Pacific Northwest

I can’t give you a happy post today.

I wanted to write about my holidays today. Was gonna show you some tasty-ass vegan foodporn and tons of pics of the many animals (and, I guess, humans too) who I’ve befriended since I’ve gotten to the US. I’m sorry that won’t happen right now.

The community I love lost someone wonderful today to suicide. He was my age. Far, far too young to die. I’m thousands of miles away, sitting in a cafe in Portland and overwhelmed by the outpourings of grief and broken hearts from so many places. We’ll never get to see his cheeky grin again, and he’ll never have another chance (any chance he got) to wander about with his shirt off. (Seriously, I’ve never known someone who was as much of a show-off. And- let’s be clear here- he had a lot to be proud of).

I haven’t seen Sean since I moved out of the house we shared a few years ago. We didn’t end that on the best of terms- we were so not compatible as housemates, but, you know, you always figure you’ll see each other again a bit down the road and make things up and laugh about how ridiculous you were, right? It’s Ireland. It’s queer Ireland, even. We always run into each other again. What a fucking cliche that that’s not going to happen. I’m so sorry. Continue reading “I can’t give you a happy post today.”

I can’t give you a happy post today.

Big Damn Abortion Heroes in Ireland: Part Three

I’ve talked a lot recently about people getting in the way of access to abortion in Ireland. The women who ratted their housemate out to the police because she wasn’t sorry enough about her abortion. I’ve gotten deeply snarky about people who make mind-bogglingly ignorant arguments against pregnant people’s right to choose.

I have’t talked that much about the other side: the people who speak up. Those who tell their stories. People who risk arrest and villification to choose their own path or to support others’ choices. The big damn abortion heroes of our time.

As there are a lot of people to share, this post is split this into three parts. Here are Part One and Part Two. Continue reading “Big Damn Abortion Heroes in Ireland: Part Three”

Big Damn Abortion Heroes in Ireland: Part Three

Big Damn Abortion Heroes in Ireland: Part Two

I’ve talked a lot recently about people getting in the way of access to abortion in Ireland. The women who ratted their housemate out to the police because she wasn’t sorry enough about her abortion. I’ve gotten deeply snarky about people who make mind-bogglingly ignorant arguments against pregnant people’s right to choose.

I have’t talked that much about the other side: the people who speak up. Those who tell their stories. People who risk arrest and villification to choose their own path or to support others’ choices. The big damn abortion heroes of our time.

As there are a lot of people to share, this post is split this into three parts. Part One is here.

Telling it like it is

It’s illegal to import or take abortion pills. Nevertheless, people do it every day. While it’s legal to leave the country for an abortion, until recently it’s been considered such a shameful thing to do that most women went through the whole process in secret.

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 To share that you’ve had an abortion has been taboo- despite the fact that more than 150,000 people are recorded as having gone to the UK for terminations since it was made unconstitutional in 1983. I shouldn’t have to say this, but: that figure of 150,000 is almost certainly far smaller than the true figures. It doesn’t include anyone who bought abortion pills online since they’ve become available, anyone who had an abortion in the UK and didn’t share their Irish address, or anyone who went to a different country. It leaves out every self-induced abortion that nobody heard of.

It takes immense courage to share your abortion story in Ireland. I remember the first time I heard those words- “I had an abortion”- in a public space: Continue reading “Big Damn Abortion Heroes in Ireland: Part Two”

Big Damn Abortion Heroes in Ireland: Part Two

Frivolous Friday (ish): Thirty. Six. Hours. On a plane.

It serves me right. I booked my flights two months ago. From the comfort of an eight-ish week gap, just about any combination of flights, buses and hours hanging around departure lounges seems fineWhile you’re technically aware of the misery you’re about to inflict on yourself, it’s much further away then those lovely numbers after the euro sign.

I’m pretty sure that in forty hours or so, once I’ve had a decent sleep and a nice hot shower, I’ll agree. Right this minute, though? I’m on a three hour bus journey. Which will be followed by a few hours of a break at a friend’s house. Taxi to the airport. Get to the airport.

Deal with Panic Number One: Checking In. There was something up with my airline’s website when I tried to check in earlier today. According to them, I need to get myself to the airport and do my checking in there. Now, it’s been years since I checked in at an airport. I’ve been trained by Ryanair’s airport check-in fees (what are they, €70?) to have my boarding pass printed out AND saved on my phone before I get to the airport. Arriving without them feels like those nightmares where you get to your Important Job Interview Slash Exam and realise you’re not wearing any pants.

Then there’s eleven hours on a plane to LA, six hours mooching about in LAX (or waiting in interminable queues and being quizzed by the TSA, depending on who I asked) before flying up to Seattle. Then all I gotta do is figure out where the hell Americans keep your buses and get on one going south and get to Olympia and then find friends (find my friends, that is. I have friends. I’m not just wandering halfway across the planet in case I meet someone interesting there. Not this time, anyway) and SLEEEP. Or not sleep.

Depending on how long that last leg takes? Thirty-six-odd hours, door to door.

Since I’ve bugger all else to do (and it is Frivolous Friday for at least some of it!) I’m gonna be bothering all of you lot about it. Here. For the next thirty-five odd hours.

Will I manage to check in in person in Dublin? Is there wifi on planes these days? Where in LAX can a person grab some decent vegan food? Is going through American airport security as godawful as everyone says it is (seriously, I’m Having Anxiety about that, I ain’t gonna lie)? What does sleep deprivation do to me? Will I remember to pick up some of those foamy wee earplugs at the airport or will I be stuck trying to make earmuffs out out my scarf again? And will I figure out how to get the live blogging widget working on my tablet?!

Find out right here. But not right now. In a few hours, like. I’m still in a bus somewhere in the midlands in Ireland.

Frivolous Friday (ish): Thirty. Six. Hours. On a plane.

Big Damn Abortion Heroes in Ireland: Part One

I’ve talked a lot recently about people getting in the way of access to abortion in Ireland. The women who ratted their housemate out to the police because she wasn’t sorry enough about her abortion. I’ve gotten deeply snarky about people who make mind-bogglingly ignorant arguments against pregnant people’s right to choose.

I have’t talked that much about the other side: the people who speak up. Those who tell their stories. People who risk arrest and villification to choose their own path or to support others’ choices. The big damn abortion heroes of our time.

As there are a lot of people to share, this post is split this into three parts.

Do you need an abortion?

It’s illegal in the Republic of Ireland to encourage anyone to have an abortion. It’s possible to provide information, but not to tell someone that you think an abortion might be a good option for them. Conversely, it’s perfectly legal to say whatever you like to encourage someone not to have one.

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If you’re in the North or South of Ireland and are considering abortion, Need Abortion Ireland is there for you. This website has everything you might need, whether you’re travelling to the UK or need a safe way to access abortion pills on the island. They’ve a text support service that you can contact at any time before, during or after your abortion. They’ll even send you a care package full of “pyjamas, snacks, films, anything you need to make your abortion experience as comfortable as possible“. If you need an abortion and you’re feeling isolated? These are the big damn heroes who’ll do everything short of coming to your house, propping your feet up and putting the kettle on for you themselves.

Continue reading “Big Damn Abortion Heroes in Ireland: Part One”

Big Damn Abortion Heroes in Ireland: Part One

Germaine Greer: transphobe. Homophobe. Misogynist.

[CN: transmisogyny, homophobia, misogyny]

Germaine Greer likes to think of herself as a feminist. There was a time when she might have been right. While I’ve never been able to stomach reading her work, I’ve heard many feminists speak highly of The Female Eunuch.

There are parts of Greer’s feminism that I even agree with. She’s talked about liberation and creating a feminism that isn’t about aping men or aspiring to be like them. Yes. A feminism that puts down women, femininity and traditionally female tasks is nothing more than patriarchy with breasts.

It’s easy to simply say that Greer is a TERF- a trans exclusionary radical feminist. After all, most of her recent controversial statements have centred around her transmisogyny. When I’ve previously criticised her, this is what I’ve focused on. However, having read more of her comments, it’s becoming clear that it’s not as simple as that. I think that Greer’s transphobia masks something else: a deep-seated homophobia and misogyny, directed almost as much at cis women as our trans sisters.

Here’s why. Continue reading “Germaine Greer: transphobe. Homophobe. Misogynist.”

Germaine Greer: transphobe. Homophobe. Misogynist.

Autism Acceptance, not Awareness. Don’t Light It Up Blue.

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Have you ever noticed that “autism awareness” assumes that you’re not autistic? How about the way that the people imploring you to support their plight are almost always the family members of an autistic person? Or how we always seem to read about autistic children, and rarely adults?

Of course, I’m not autistic. So instead of writing my own post on why I think “autism awareness” erases autistic people and puts allistic people front-and-centre, this post is all about the links. Continue reading “Autism Acceptance, not Awareness. Don’t Light It Up Blue.”

Autism Acceptance, not Awareness. Don’t Light It Up Blue.