...Is today.
I never know what to say this time of year. In years past, I have sometimes struggled with thinking I need to find something deep and profound to say, something about witnessing and solidarity, something productive, something that isn't just raw anger (which is not to say I have actually found it!). But this year I just think...it's a day we remember the people who were killed because they were trans. I don't have anything wise to say, and I certainly don't have anything non-angry to say.
There are good posts up at Questioning Transphobia, and Hoyden About Town, and The Curvature.
--IP
Saturday, 20 November 2010
Friday, 12 November 2010
Why I wasn't at the Fund Our Future march (but wanted to be)
If you're based in the UK, you've probably all heard about the protest for higher education funding that took place in London yesterday. I wasn't there, but some of my co-bloggers were, and I hope that they'll be able to write about what it was like to be there.
About 52,000 people, most of them students, but also a large contingent of academic and academic-related staff, marched through central London. The march was for the funding of public services, and higher education and research funding in particular; condemning tuition fees and graduate contributions, and the LibDem U-turn on student fees. There was also a large Free Education feeder march that unfortunately doesn't seem to have received much press coverage. Obviously it's the Millbank protest that's getting nearly all the coverage right now, and I'll let someone else comment on that, because I wasn't there, and my thoughts are still in a bit of a jumble. Maybe I'll do a round-up of interesting coverage later on.
So why wasn't I there? Ah. I'm glad you asked.
The "Look Ok...Feel Crap?" campaign from the Depression Alliance Scotland tweeted "Are you a student? Would you have liked to go on today's demo but didn't because of how you feel? Or did you go anyway?" Some of the replies they received on Twitter broke my heart -- students wrote back about issues with anxiety, depression, and other mental health conditions that kept them home.
In my case, it wasn't a mental health issue that kept me home, but it was a disability. I told friends who asked me that this ways because I couldn't get my mobility scooter to London (most types of public transport won't carry them). This is true, but not the whole story. It's also that when using a mobility scooter, I'm vulnerable in certain ways because I can't maneuver quickly in a crowd. This isn't a small march in Scotland -- it's a big march in London with the Metropolitan Police of kettling and head-beating fame. In a big group of people who are kettled and stressed, I could very easily get hurt. Also, my disability causes fatigue, and overnight trips on consecutive nights could cause a week or two of fatigue that would make me unable to do coursework or totally trivial things like cook food or wash clothes.
I'm not the only person who couldn't go. A great many of my friends couldn't go because their disabilities prevented them getting to London (the transport isn't accessible, and with central London packed with demo traffic, it's hard to make adjustments), or walk the whole march route even if the march had been held locally to them. Some couldn't go because they find marches too scary or anxiety-inducing or confrontational or upsetting because of mental health issues. Some couldn't go because they are scared of police officers, especially the Met, because their sociodemographic group has traditionally been targeted by the police for violence and prejudice. Some people couldn't attend because they have young children and no childcare, and were worried about their toddlers potentially being in a kettling situation (after the G20 protests, this is a reasonable worry). Some friends couldn't afford to go because they live on or below the breadline and couldn't afford the transport, or couldn't afford to miss a day of work.
(Note that many of these worries apply not only to protests, but also work. Those whose disability stops them from protesting, may also, for similar reasons, be legitimately unable to work. Those whose children's need for care means they have to stay home, might also mean that they can't work paid jobs. Those who are discriminated against by the police are likely to also be discriminated against by employers.)
When the government calls us lazy and work-shy, we have to work extra-hard to defend ourselves, and it costs energy and resources we don't have -- in my case, it might have cost me the ability to feed and clothe myself for several days. When public services are cut, we're affected in multiple ways -- not just by higher education, but also by cuts to nursery/childcare and schooling, medical services, child and family benefits, personal care, disability-specific support, housing, and the list goes on.
The people who face this kind of dual discrimination are the people who need to fight the hardest right now because they have the most to lose. They're also the people least able to fight the hardest. Often, the most effective kinds of protest are unavailable to us -- we can ask nicely, we can write to our MPs, we can sign petitions, but when asking nicely fails, we have no options left. It makes us easy targets for governments to take away our basic needs -- we can't fight back the way more privileged people can.
So to those of you who are protesting (there will be more big marches), please go and shout loud for me. If you haven't been protesting, but you think you could, please please please think about going, because those of us who really need to be there, can't.
--IP
About 52,000 people, most of them students, but also a large contingent of academic and academic-related staff, marched through central London. The march was for the funding of public services, and higher education and research funding in particular; condemning tuition fees and graduate contributions, and the LibDem U-turn on student fees. There was also a large Free Education feeder march that unfortunately doesn't seem to have received much press coverage. Obviously it's the Millbank protest that's getting nearly all the coverage right now, and I'll let someone else comment on that, because I wasn't there, and my thoughts are still in a bit of a jumble. Maybe I'll do a round-up of interesting coverage later on.
So why wasn't I there? Ah. I'm glad you asked.
The "Look Ok...Feel Crap?" campaign from the Depression Alliance Scotland tweeted "Are you a student? Would you have liked to go on today's demo but didn't because of how you feel? Or did you go anyway?" Some of the replies they received on Twitter broke my heart -- students wrote back about issues with anxiety, depression, and other mental health conditions that kept them home.
In my case, it wasn't a mental health issue that kept me home, but it was a disability. I told friends who asked me that this ways because I couldn't get my mobility scooter to London (most types of public transport won't carry them). This is true, but not the whole story. It's also that when using a mobility scooter, I'm vulnerable in certain ways because I can't maneuver quickly in a crowd. This isn't a small march in Scotland -- it's a big march in London with the Metropolitan Police of kettling and head-beating fame. In a big group of people who are kettled and stressed, I could very easily get hurt. Also, my disability causes fatigue, and overnight trips on consecutive nights could cause a week or two of fatigue that would make me unable to do coursework or totally trivial things like cook food or wash clothes.
I'm not the only person who couldn't go. A great many of my friends couldn't go because their disabilities prevented them getting to London (the transport isn't accessible, and with central London packed with demo traffic, it's hard to make adjustments), or walk the whole march route even if the march had been held locally to them. Some couldn't go because they find marches too scary or anxiety-inducing or confrontational or upsetting because of mental health issues. Some couldn't go because they are scared of police officers, especially the Met, because their sociodemographic group has traditionally been targeted by the police for violence and prejudice. Some people couldn't attend because they have young children and no childcare, and were worried about their toddlers potentially being in a kettling situation (after the G20 protests, this is a reasonable worry). Some friends couldn't afford to go because they live on or below the breadline and couldn't afford the transport, or couldn't afford to miss a day of work.
(Note that many of these worries apply not only to protests, but also work. Those whose disability stops them from protesting, may also, for similar reasons, be legitimately unable to work. Those whose children's need for care means they have to stay home, might also mean that they can't work paid jobs. Those who are discriminated against by the police are likely to also be discriminated against by employers.)
When the government calls us lazy and work-shy, we have to work extra-hard to defend ourselves, and it costs energy and resources we don't have -- in my case, it might have cost me the ability to feed and clothe myself for several days. When public services are cut, we're affected in multiple ways -- not just by higher education, but also by cuts to nursery/childcare and schooling, medical services, child and family benefits, personal care, disability-specific support, housing, and the list goes on.
The people who face this kind of dual discrimination are the people who need to fight the hardest right now because they have the most to lose. They're also the people least able to fight the hardest. Often, the most effective kinds of protest are unavailable to us -- we can ask nicely, we can write to our MPs, we can sign petitions, but when asking nicely fails, we have no options left. It makes us easy targets for governments to take away our basic needs -- we can't fight back the way more privileged people can.
So to those of you who are protesting (there will be more big marches), please go and shout loud for me. If you haven't been protesting, but you think you could, please please please think about going, because those of us who really need to be there, can't.
--IP
Thursday, 11 November 2010
And another thing about Remembrance Day
When I see photos of David Cameron wearing a poppy? David Cameron, whose government is cutting any last pretense we ever had at supporting veterans, and calling it "wasteful spending", and who is willing to drop some coins in a charity tin but not pay a fair slice of his income, because we all know that a few coins once a year is cheaper than tax and buys less for veterans, that David Cameron? The David Cameron who appears not to mind if veterans drop dead because they can't make the rent and bills or can't buy food because they've got no personal care and no mobility aids as a result of his public service cuts, but he's happy to take some PR credit for wearing a poppy in a not-at-all hypocritical manner?
I just want to puke.
--IP
I just want to puke.
--IP
Tuesday, 9 November 2010
What I'll be thinking about this Remembrance Day
For those unfamiliar with the custom: it is British tradition, in the run up to 11 November, to raise funds for the Royal British Legion's charity, the Poppy Appeal. The funds go to support wounded or disabled veterans and their families, for the rest of their lives. In 2009, the Poppy Appeal collected £35 million. Towards the end of October and first two weeks of November, most people can be seen wearing a red poppy pinned to their lapel, as a sign that they support the Poppy Appeal.
There are a number of things I find uncomfortable about the way we do Remembrance Day/Armistice Day in the UK, to do with displays of militaristic pride, at a time when we should most be thinking about how we have messed up, how we have failed to support our troops in any meaningful sense, how it is stunningly disrespectful to everyone who has died or lost someone or been injured or been sexually assaulted (let's not forget about the use of mass rape as a weapon of war) in war to turn our military past into something that patriotism requires us to be proud of. And all I can think about is the old slogan "Support our troops -- bring 'em home." I've written about some of this before.
But this year I'm also thinking about how the British public rally around wounded and disabled veterans in a way that we don't, and wouldn't, rally around others in need of similar funds and services, like, say, single mothers. It is important that we support people who need support in their daily lives, and it is undoubtedly true that society doesn't do enough for veterans. So none of this is out of any disrespect for veterans, or for the support that is provided to them.
But I can't help thinking that, if it weren't veterans, the community wouldn't respond so supportively. How do we respond to unemployed people on the dole? To single mothers? Even before this government, they were targeted by the tabloid press for scorn.
Traditionally, the justification for support for veterans is that they have served their country. And again, it's out of no disrespect for veterans, that I'm uncomfortable with that explanation. Or rather, it seems to that it shouldn't be necessary. We should support people because they need support.
Anyway, there's more than one way to serve your community. Where's the support for the now elderly or disabled people who did war service in factories? Where the support for pensioners who have spent their lives being nurses, teachers, police officers, postal workers, refuse collectors? Where's the support for disabled people who work in any number of jobs or volunteer with a number of causes, or would be able to with the right support?
There's a gendered dimension here too. It's easier to recognise some kinds of service of service than others. We disproportionately don't recognise, and don't provide support for the kinds of service that aren't paid employment. Who is disproportionately allocated unwaged community work, like, say caring for children, or elderly people, or disabled people? Women. Who not only won't receive a wage for much of the caregiving work they do for their families and communities, but are also disadvantaged when it comes to pensions and benefits if they have made fewer NI contributions (because of unwaged work), and are disproportionately judged negatively for their work. Caregiving most certainly is service to communities, but because their work isn't counted as "real" work.
I'm also thinking this year about the budget cuts. In cutting disability-related benefit spending and disability services, the ConDem government is literally taking wheelchairs from disabled people. In the case of veterans, the Poppy Appeal will go some way to making sure people still get at least some of the support that they need. But when it comes to other disabled people? Yes, there are other charities who do great work. None of them have the kind of pull on the British conscience that the Poppy Appeal has. And even the Poppy Appeal, although it does very good work, is no substitute for a strong public sector.
So when we talk about service to our country, I wish we talked more about what service means, and how much more we really have to do if we've any hope of providing properly for the people who have served this country.
--IP
There are a number of things I find uncomfortable about the way we do Remembrance Day/Armistice Day in the UK, to do with displays of militaristic pride, at a time when we should most be thinking about how we have messed up, how we have failed to support our troops in any meaningful sense, how it is stunningly disrespectful to everyone who has died or lost someone or been injured or been sexually assaulted (let's not forget about the use of mass rape as a weapon of war) in war to turn our military past into something that patriotism requires us to be proud of. And all I can think about is the old slogan "Support our troops -- bring 'em home." I've written about some of this before.
But this year I'm also thinking about how the British public rally around wounded and disabled veterans in a way that we don't, and wouldn't, rally around others in need of similar funds and services, like, say, single mothers. It is important that we support people who need support in their daily lives, and it is undoubtedly true that society doesn't do enough for veterans. So none of this is out of any disrespect for veterans, or for the support that is provided to them.
But I can't help thinking that, if it weren't veterans, the community wouldn't respond so supportively. How do we respond to unemployed people on the dole? To single mothers? Even before this government, they were targeted by the tabloid press for scorn.
Traditionally, the justification for support for veterans is that they have served their country. And again, it's out of no disrespect for veterans, that I'm uncomfortable with that explanation. Or rather, it seems to that it shouldn't be necessary. We should support people because they need support.
Anyway, there's more than one way to serve your community. Where's the support for the now elderly or disabled people who did war service in factories? Where the support for pensioners who have spent their lives being nurses, teachers, police officers, postal workers, refuse collectors? Where's the support for disabled people who work in any number of jobs or volunteer with a number of causes, or would be able to with the right support?
There's a gendered dimension here too. It's easier to recognise some kinds of service of service than others. We disproportionately don't recognise, and don't provide support for the kinds of service that aren't paid employment. Who is disproportionately allocated unwaged community work, like, say caring for children, or elderly people, or disabled people? Women. Who not only won't receive a wage for much of the caregiving work they do for their families and communities, but are also disadvantaged when it comes to pensions and benefits if they have made fewer NI contributions (because of unwaged work), and are disproportionately judged negatively for their work. Caregiving most certainly is service to communities, but because their work isn't counted as "real" work.
I'm also thinking this year about the budget cuts. In cutting disability-related benefit spending and disability services, the ConDem government is literally taking wheelchairs from disabled people. In the case of veterans, the Poppy Appeal will go some way to making sure people still get at least some of the support that they need. But when it comes to other disabled people? Yes, there are other charities who do great work. None of them have the kind of pull on the British conscience that the Poppy Appeal has. And even the Poppy Appeal, although it does very good work, is no substitute for a strong public sector.
So when we talk about service to our country, I wish we talked more about what service means, and how much more we really have to do if we've any hope of providing properly for the people who have served this country.
--IP
Sunday, 31 October 2010
New fave blog.
http://thedealwithdisability.blogspot.com
This is the blog of a highly intelligent and very physically disabled queer woman with cerebral palsy.
She mainly blogs the strange (and sometimes nice) ways in which people talk to and treat her - including a homeless man who tried to give her money, Jehovah's Witnesses trying to cure her and customer service assistants patting her on the head. ('My aide and I were looking at each other like, WTF.)
She writes in a fabulously sarcastic tone, but is also really non-judgmental about people who do treat her in a strange way. My new hero. Check it out.
This is the blog of a highly intelligent and very physically disabled queer woman with cerebral palsy.
She mainly blogs the strange (and sometimes nice) ways in which people talk to and treat her - including a homeless man who tried to give her money, Jehovah's Witnesses trying to cure her and customer service assistants patting her on the head. ('My aide and I were looking at each other like, WTF.)
She writes in a fabulously sarcastic tone, but is also really non-judgmental about people who do treat her in a strange way. My new hero. Check it out.
Thursday, 28 October 2010
good on you, joel burns.
For standing up and telling your story in a city council meeting full of people, in real time, where you knew you could not cut or edit it before it hit the internet. This just made me cry so much. In a good way.
Wednesday, 27 October 2010
Time of the Month Tiger
This is my new favourite website.
I feel like it adequately sums up how shit periods can be. Also - frankness is good.Luckily I barely get periods anymore, but there was a time when I felt the world was falling out of my vagina.
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