Inked!

Hello, long-neglected blog, I have missed you! There is lots to say and update.

A year and a bit ago I became self-employed as a freelance writer. I didn't think I was going to be able to make it work, but somehow it went from strength to strength and I do seem to be holding my own in this business.

In seemingly unrelated news, I have wanted a tattoo for 15 years. My inability to make a decision about what it should depict means I have never done it. I would make a decision and change my mind and choose something else and change my mind. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever settle on something to actually get one done.

Back to the business... when I'd done it for a year, this felt super significant. Despite illness, disability, and sometimes feeling completely like I was floundering, I'd done it. It felt really important to mark it in some way. Of course, a tattoo came to mind, but that endless question - what would it be?

My eyes came upon a sign I have had by my desk for the whole year, which had encouraged me whenever I felt like I just couldn't do this thing. It reads, "She believed she could so she did". When I needed a confidence boost, I would look at the sign and realise I could do it. Not only did it help me, but I'd also looked at it most days for a whole year and still liked it...

So there I had it, the tattoo. I had it done yesterday and I love it.

Did it hurt?

Well, yes. However it was a lot, lot better than I'd imagined in that respect. It was sore, kind of like being scratched again and again and again. I wouldn't call it painful, although some spots were worse than others.

Where did you have it?

My left inner forearm. I've always known that my first tattoo would go there, for some reason. I think partly it's because when I used to self-harm, that part of my arm took the brunt of my frustrations, so this was a way to reclaim it somehow. The old scars means that the ink might not be entirely uniform, but I can live with that.

I also wanted it to be somewhere where it would be seen. I didn't want a tattoo somewhere like my back where neither I nor anybody else would ever see it, I wanted it to be visible.

Any regrets?

Not even a tiny one.

Who did it?

Nikk at Good Vibrations Tattoo in Crookes, Sheffield.

But what about when you're 94 and it's gross?

Source: Uploaded by user via Philippa on Pinterest

Love Sheffield

I love Sheffield. This morning I had an idea of simplicity and beauty, and created the Love Sheffield design. With encouragement from @andlavendercats I added it as a t-shirt range on RedBubble, including on baby clothes, then also as an iPhone case and a greeting card and postcard. Enjoy!

  "Love Sheffield" T-Shirts & Hoodies by incurablehippie:  

  "Love Sheffield" iPhone & iPod Cases by incurablehippie:

 

"Love Sheffield" Greetings Cards and Postcards by incurablehippie: 

Updates

I was interviewed for two fab articles with Women's Views on News:

• Crawling off a train: disability in the UK in 2012
  
• Disability: the Cinderella of feminism?

I also, amusingly, turned up on the ITV News website and a Canadian News site, CBC.ca, over a twitter hashtag game about the government's plans to snoop on every email we send, amongst other things.

Some posts I've done at The F-Word:

• Is it any surprise?, about rape culture
  
• Are you a neighbour from hell? You might be surprised, about poverty and disability.
  
• Dennis Waterman: "It's not hard for a woman to make a man hit her" about, well, about Dennis Waterman saying that.
  
• Cinderella Ate My Daughters, about a great podcast I listened to.

Personally, things have been busy. I'm missing writing for Where's the Benefit? but since the Welfare Reform Bill (oh, sorry, Act) came into law I've felt entirely powerless over it. I need to get beyond a place where every possible action seems pointless, in that respect.

"Got another forgery then, have you?"

The last few weeks I've been on two crutches rather than one. This started when I tripped and tore a toenail off, then continued when I got new neurological symptoms in a rather large new section of my left thigh.

While I am normally all in favour of the wonder of mobility aids, because they give people freedom and independence and, well, mobility, I get seriously less enthusiastic when I need two crutches rather than one. It means I am hurting my elbows and wrists on both arms instead of just one, it makes doing nearly anything a nightmare. I have to ask for help a lot more, it hurts, I hate it.

If it turns out to be long-term I'll just have to get the hang of it, but in the meantime, I'm seriously unimpressed.

This morning I got on the bus. It's a local service where it tends to be the same drivers most of the time, so I know some of them. Today, on spotting that I had two crutches and not one, a driver I know reasonably well said, "got another forgery then, have you?", and laughed.

It was banter. That bloody word. Can't I take a joke?

On top of feeling distinctly unimpressed with the two crutch situation already, this idiot added a whole other layer of fed-up-ness to the mix. For the rest of the day I felt self-conscious. Do all these people think I'm faking?

If he had thought about it, even for a millisecond, he would perhaps have realised that an increase in the number of crutches perhaps corresponded with a deterioration in my health. He would perhaps have realised that I might not be overjoyed about that.

Today was so painful. My arms are completely wrecked, and my right hand is considerably worse than usual. I don't know if that is a progression of the condition, or just a reaction to too much crutch use today.

It's not funny. It's not banter. It's thoughtless and fucking cruel, if you take even a second to think about it.

Gay marriage is really very scary

A terrified umbrella group has been set up who believe that because of the gays, that teetering, vulnerable institution which is heterosexual marriage, is under threat.



Warning of the Profound Consequences of legalising same sex marriage, the Coalition for Marriage fear that, "if marriage is redefined, those who believe in traditional marriage will be sidelined". They also, somewhat inexplicably, warn that "People's careers could be harmed, couples seeking to adopt or foster could be excluded". Because presumably, if the gays can marry, this will cause widespread redundancies and it will mean that social services will no longer accept heterosexual married couples as potential adopters or foster carers.



Following is that infamous slippery slope, "If marriage is redefined once, what is to stop it being redefined to allow polygamy?". I'm surprised they didn't carry on to the usual "or what is to stop people marrying their pets?". Are the Coalition for Marriage so fearful that if same sex relationships get equal rights, heterosexual people will abandon traditional marriage in droves, to marry their gay best friend instead?

The Coalition for Marriage are running a petition which, they say, "demonstrates that there is broad public opposition to redefining marriage". They may have jumped the gun with this statement, as the 'broad public support' currently stands at 124 signatories, the vast majority of whom are Bishops, Rectors, members of the General Synod of the Church of England, vicars, Ministers and Pastors. Three Labour MPs and four Conservative MPs have also signed, but the people who have signed can be considered to be neither numerous nor broad in range at this stage.

They begrudgingly promote Civil Partnerships as justification for now allowing same sex marriage, before pointing out that "It's not discriminatory to support traditional marriage", going on to say, "People should not feel pressurised to go along with same-sex marriage just because of political correctness. They should be free to express their views". So, I'm expressing my views.

Quite why allowing same sex people to marry fills these people with such dread is not something I can understand. If I marry a girlfriend, it doesn't have to be karmically balanced out by a straight couple getting divorced. Heterosexual marriage is one of the most established institutions in the whole world - just what do they imagine might happen if I could join in? It's almost flattering that they think equal marriage rights would be such a powerful move that the entire heteropatriarchal institution would be under immediate threat. I would be quite happy if it would, but I fear it is overestimating what two men or two women getting married would actually mean.

(Clue, it would mean they were married, then got on with their lives like everyone else)

The Coalition are asking for people to sign up to the following statement,

I support the legal definition of marriage which is the voluntary union for life of one man and one woman to the exclusion of all others. I oppose any attempt to redefine it.

Personally, I support the rights of same sex couples to marry, and of mixed sex couples to get a Civil Partnership.

Mind you, having just watched this video, maybe the Coalition for Marriage is right: gay marriage could in fact end humanity.



In all seriousness, however, many people struggle greatly with the inability to commit to marriage within their relationships. A video of Kitty Lambert in New York expresses powerfully just how ridiculous the current laws are.



You can see the full-length version of that video here.

[The first image is a screenshot of the Coalition for Marriage website. The second is a cartoon from Lefty Cartoons, used under a Creative Commons Licence. Hat tip to @bhiggi for helping me to find the second video. This post originally appeared at The F-Word]

Schtuff

Some things I have written elsewhere but have not cross-posted here for one reason or another.

Most excitingly, I wrote in The Guardian Comment is Free about getting abuse for being disabled.

And at The F-Word I vow to refuse to attend events with an all-male line-up on the panel

Gauge Your Victim-Blaming

Privacy and Prejudice

When is an affair not an affair? (Trigger warning)

Shocked Headline as Fat Disabled Woman Has Fun.

I have other big news which I will update the blog with as soon as I can!

Adult Sleepwalking

I sleepwalked last night. It is something I have started doing this year, for reasons unknown. It is horrible, and I wake up too freaked out to get back to sleep. I'm writing this because it's bedtime again and I'm scared now.

It's not even just sleepwalking. Last night I got to sleep about 2.30am. I woke up at 4. I was downstairs, and had sleepwalked. Not just that. I woke up vomiting, because I had eaten tonnes of food in my sleep. I have no idea where my glasses are (I have spares now, thankfully, mainly because of this very thing).

I woke up vomiting over myself, after 1.5 hours sleep, because I had eaten so much. In my sleep.

It is foul, I hate it, it scares me.

Can't imagine this post will stay up long, because it's all quite humiliating. But maybe writing it down will help me to freak out less in anticipation of sleeping tonight.

Subscribe to hippie blog on Kindle

In exciting news, as well as subscribing by RSS feed, you can also now subscribe to incurable hippie blog on your Kindle!



As far as I can tell it is only available in the UK and the US.

You're Frightening Me

It started with a blog post, where David Gillon challenged 38 degrees about why, despite a disability benefit cuts campaign receiving lots of votes, it never reached the 'call to action' stage.

Then there was an article (now amended) which described an athlete's move from Paralympic to Olympic competition as a "move up".

I then read in Jezebel about a sex worker who is awesome because she works with disabled clients, which apparently makes her intriguing.

And I started to wonder, what do you think of us? Of me? In these three stages, the mainstream, and the left-wing, tell me that I am inferior, and I am other. So very, very other.

Then Lisa Egan wrote a post (trigger warning) about suicide, and her despair at the lack of support from even campaigning organisations, and I still, somehow, didn't cry.

Then, finally, the article that did make me cry, in which I learned that 2/3 of people avoid disabled people because they don't know how to act around us. In addition,

A third of those questioned demonstrated hardened negative attitudes towards the disabled. Reasons cited for this ranged from disabled people being seen as a burden on society (38%), ill feeling around the perceived extra support given to disabled people (28%), and the personal worries and sensitivities which rise to the fore during a recession (79%).

It went on,

Some 60% of Britons admit to staring at disabled people because they are different, with more than half of people (51%) admitting they feel uncomfortable when they meet a disabled person for the first time, with more men (54%) admitting to being uncomfortable compared to women (50%).

At a time when cuts are actually killing disabled people, we are also experiencing more negative attitudes, perceptions of being a burden, an additional cost, especially during a recession. How very inconsiderate of us to not wait to attain crippled status until the economy is fixed.

If you're questioning whether this is a feminist issue, then the point is being missed. I am a woman who 38% of people polled consider to be a burden. I am a woman who 2/3 of people polled admit to avoiding for reasons of prejudice. I am a woman who 50% of women polled admitted to being uncomfortable to meet. I am a woman who is witnessing her friends become more and more afraid to leave the house, for fear of government- and Daily Mail-inspired abuse in the street. I've experienced it myself.

There are so many issues at the moment which are putting us all into a state of crisis. This is one of many: people are starting to frighten me. Is the person I'm talking to one of the 38%? Or the 50% Or the 65%?

Given that women are the hardest hit by spending cuts, and disabled people are the hardest hit by spending cuts, disabled women are being overlooked, avoided, resented, marginalised and othered. It takes non-disabled people, at this stage, to make some of the changes that need to happen.

(Cross-posted at The F-Word and Where's the Benefit?)

[The image is a photograph of handmade print next to one of the stencils. They read "FEAR MORE HOPE LESS". The photograph and artwork are by Ben Murphy and are used under a Creative Commons Licence]

Divide and rule works both ways

When I complained about Julian Assange speaking at Occupy LSX, I was told I was being divisive. When I drew attention to zohra moosa and Chitra Nagarajan's experiences of racism at the same occupy camp, I was also told I was being divisive. Complaining about the Labour Party, about the Lib Dems, about rapes at other Occupy camps, about inaccessible feminist meetings, and about issues being ignored under the heading of #solidarity, all get me called divisive.

The idea is that if you complain about something, you risk dividing the movement, at which point the opposition - be it the patriarchy, the 'right', the rich, the government - can move in and rule. And I understand this concern. When a movement is struggling for a voice, the last thing it needs is the people within it arguing amongst themselves, instead of against the people they are uniting to fight.

However, there comes a point when supporting a movement whose ideology or aims you broadly agree with becomes one painful compromise too many. And if you speak up, the 'divisive' accusations pour forth. But in my daily, lived experience, the division does not come from me raising awareness, the problem comes from the issues arising in the first place.

Because if I cannot physically get into your occupy camp, it is not me who has divided the movement. There is a very literal division between the non-disabled people who can get in, and the disabled people who can't. And because if there have been rapes at your occupy camp, or your occupy camp produces a document telling anyone who is raped at the camp to not go to the police, it is not me who divides the movement by drawing attention to it, it is those who rape, and those who attempt to suppress legal redress against rapists who cause a division. And because if disabled people who can't leave the house spend hours and days and weeks live tweeting events to take part in, and raise awareness of, a demonstration, and then those same disabled people actually plead with the protesters to add benefit and social care cuts to their banners and chants, and are ignored at every turn, the division is being created by them, not me.

I understand that in a broad movement, gathered together ideologically but not always agreeing, compromises will need to be made. I am becoming less and less understanding, however, about how often the white, heterosexual, cis, non-disabled men are asked to compromise, in comparison to the rest of us. Because being called divisive is sometimes very similar to being silenced.

This was originally posted at The F-Word.

[The image is a black and white close-up photograph of a person's mouth, with piercing, with a finger held up against it in a 'shush' position. It was taken by Ko_An and is used under a Creative Commons Licence]

Today I will mostly be listening to

CSC Funk Band via freemusicarchive.org.