Tag Archives: Writer

Time to call this behaviour out. 

I’d say this article made me cry. And it did. But it also made me very angry. Particularly as I’d just read Lenny Letter, where a female comedy writer has decided to open up about her experiences in Hollywood also. Non Weinstein related by the way.

She, like Emma Thompson here, is calling out some men in powerful positions in Hollywood who’ve degraded and disrespected some women.

In this interview, Emma Thompson says ‘there’s a crisis in masculinity’. I’ve said this myself in the following words – ‘I’ve always thought we need a push towards the feminine …but maybe you guys need just as much attention’. For what leads some men to this kind of behavior? Fear and feelings of inadequacy to start.

Gotta take power back somewhere right? And what nicer way than getting off right?

NO.

Read Naomi Wolfs ‘Vagina’. There’s a chapter on how sex is used specifically to torture women in war torn countries. Why? Science has proven some things about women’s biology including the relationship between a woman’s sex organs and her mind (her emotions and ability to create).

The other thing I think of here is something Krista Tippett said recently at the Melbourne Town Hall. She was talking about how Obama being elected was one of the most important and wonderful turning points in American history… for some. For others it stirred up (the bottom) of the pot. The things America (and let’s face it, many countries) still hadn’t looked at.

…and it stirred the pot so much it got a man like Donald Trump elected.

…a man who said ‘you can just grab them by the pussy’.

Many women’s response to this comment and those who’ve spoken up about Weinstein has shown there’s a shit load of anger out there from women who’ve been subjected to this behavior in various forms by some men since (as Emma Thompson puts it) the beginning of time. We still have so much to look at it when it comes to the equal treatment of women.

Some days I’ve thought – thank god I know so many great men …to counterbalance all the shit experiences I’ve had with some others.

…being told I didn’t get the role because I didn’t look like an easy f#?! As a young girl, avoiding getting on my bus because a man (yes I said I was a young girl and he was an adult) had made advances on me at the bus stop and wanted to take me home. A cab driver masturbating in front of me. Waking up in the middle of the night to a man at my bedroom window …also masturbating.
…and then there’s examples from people I know. That I trusted.

Just this year I had to call 000 to get help.

And I knew the man who assaulted and threatened me.

And so. Get ready. Because I think there’s going to be an onslaught of women speaking up. Calling out this kind of behavior. And it’s going to feel uncomfortable. But it’s got to be done. By everyone. Not just victims.

If you see or hear it. Call it out.

It’s got to be brought to the surface so we can see it for all it’s ugliness. Then maybe these types of men can get some help. And we can educate our sons better. And this shit can stop.

I for one would love to walk home in the dark and not be afraid.

Better yet

I would like to go to places that are supposed to be safe, that I know and love, and not have to be cautious. Not be subjected to abuse and threats of any form.

A huge thank you to the women who have spoken up about Weinstein. You have paved the way for others in the industry (and hopefully inspired people everywhere).

And to those industry people who protected Weinsten? Shame. It is so hard for victims to speak up (for many reasons. Never mind if the person holds a position of power or not. Do you know how small victims feel after being subjected to such behavior?). Everyone needs to speak up. Again – time to call this behavior out. No matter what position these people hold.

A note here : People – it’s going to seem worse for awhile as more and more women come forward (like all the shit that’s been stirred by Trump being elected… white supremacists as an example). But that’s not our cue to get bogged down by it. Get depressed. I tried that this year and it certainly wasn’t the right approach. Not just because I was so disheartened …my heart aching, wondering where our species would end up;  but because I pushed to fight – partially because I had to in one experience (where adrenaline surged for survival) and partially to prove something I NEVER HAD TO PROVE.

It’s going to appear all doom and gloom but this is just the first part of the journey. The revelation. THEN comes the learning.

Sadly victims have to do some learning ( ie learning its not their shit, only that they have a choice as to how they react to it / how much power they give it) but then, if and when we ALL do the learning, after a long while, because this kind of change takes time… we won’t have to talk to our daughters about how to protect themselves and won’t have to talk to our sons about how to treat women respectfully. Because we just will.

A side note: Please see below for some of the comments I have received on this post. They’re really insightful and worth sharing.

  1. I was glad she said that about masculinity. I’ve thought that about all and my own masculinity since my late teens. Feminism needs to address both genders and help men and sons toward a new defined masculinity. We’re largely lost and have no idea what our strengths are meant to be and where our power is.
  2. Laurie Penny discusses this in her book Unspeakable Things. She points out the prevailing attitides of the Patriarchy hurt EVERYONE, including men. It is a life-changing, wonderfully written read. And, laugh-out-loud funny, at times.Highly recommended.
  3. Thanks, for sharing, Love. Yes, so much needs to change. That fear has been such an innate part of life, since childhood. And, whether it’s overt incidents, such as you’ve described happening to you, or an attitude of constant entitlement, which leads to verbal, mental & emotional abuse, both subtle & brash, it is a.destructive, dangerous & insidious. I am still recovering from PTSD after a relentless spate of abuse, committed by men – both sttaight & gay. Entitlement is all about an egregious belief that one person has a right to something from another, no respect for boundaries.
    I’m so glad the.horrific behaviour of Weinstein has been exposed. I do hope that this has a domino effect.
    I’m sorry for the pain & hurt that you would’ve gone through, due to the experiences you shared. What does it say that we all have our own such stories?
    How much does that innate, ever-present (if not always in our conscious awareness) fear stop women from bold, open, fully-present & empowered enough to be the truest, biggest, strongest versions of ourselves? It’s time to deeply consider & discuss this. It is time
  4. Entitlement. We are not things. And I for one this year have really struggled with the fact that my working towards being ‘bold’ and ‘the biggest strongest version of myself’ as you have said above had been WORK. That I’ve had to push to be that, fight for it because the way some peoples behavior have made me feel about myself. That I have had to rise DESPITE all this shit. Why should I have to fight to be me?
  5. I feel you, my dear friend. I feel your words. You’re absolutely right! It does take work…reprogramming our belief system, supporting ourselves through recovery & having the courage to feel through. I’ve wondered what heights I would’ve reached had I not spent ao much energy placating others, navigating the daily politics of existence as an intelligent, attractive woman who is quirky & doesn’t fit ‘the mould’? I’ve feel as if I’ve wasted SO MUCH TIME. But, that’s due to the environment I was plopped into, at birth.
    Self-realisation is work. And, we do have our times of depression, when it’s been relentless & overwhelming & traumatising & self-esteem has been shattered. It’s a battle sometimes to go within & find a seed of openness to self-love.What a process!??!?! You’re worth it, though. I’m worth it. We’re all worth it.

 

 

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Pearl 

I wish I did not write about love. 

I wish I had not let them brand me. 

If I am on the market 

How will people know if this subject 

is the only way I’m in print?
I wish I did not write about nature

Specifically how it makes my ovaries blossom. 

If I am only fertile these few more years

All ready engraved in pollen 

How will anything other than sticky stamen penetrate? 
I wish I did not write about Venus. 

She gives away my distance, timing and rotation. 

If I am not pulled by internet routers 

Rather

Turned out from churning oceans

Pearl soaked

How will I find connection? 
I wish I did not write about you. 

You 

who have folded language over in the mouth so it

Curses in hisses of spit and sputum. 

If I am to share saliva again

How can I turn my tongue over? 
I wish I had not written.

Pen and paper has given me away. 

Perhaps though in ink 

You could endorse this woman’s indentations. 

I am simply blotched 

Stamped 

Bleeding about the page like the rest of you. 
Press me to your adjoining pages 

I will etch in so you read me well. 

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Girl 

Today she thought 

I miss being a girl. 
How many times these months

chants & championing 

The words 

woman & strong 

impregnated so as she might erupt

An Orphic egg

Spit out a new cosmos amongst the darkness

maybe, 

Create from the wound. 
She was sorry to let the universe down. 
But when she buckled up her own helmet before riding 

when she took her own hand to cross the road against the lights   

She shuffled her feet at the curb & breathed

‘All the women in me are tired. 

I miss being someone’s girl’. 

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Refuge 

Come in.

Lay your body down.

This place

it is

a refuge.

You.

Warrior

…with your armor up

…and your iron eyes

…and your stiffened lips

Unfurl your hair

let it avalanche down your steel shoulders

and flush cheek bone

and breast.

 

Come in.

Lay your body down.

This place

it is

a refuge.

Tell me your stories

Let your tongue tease out the learning

Your muscles ease out the burning

and your heart

so swollen

…let it leech out for awhile.

 

Give. me. your. lungs. warrior.

A baby would know what to do under such circumstances.

I am giving you permission to do the same.

Make your mournful sounds.

You have not forgotten how

only pretended.

 

Give. me. your. salt. warrior.

Your lacrimation will be a final desalination

Through pores

excrete what your body can no longer contain.

I will gather the delicate crystalline in my palms

and with index finger and thumb

we will use it to season

what. comes. next.

 

Come in.

Lay your body down.

Dear warrior

This place

it is

your refuge.

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Decathect 

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Rumble 

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Shadows 

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Song lines 

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At 30,000ft

‘Always blue skies above the clouds’ he says.

‘Toldja’ as he motions out toward the window of the plane.

The skies are indeed blue.

His girlfriend asks

‘Do you reckon it’s scarier going up or when you land?’

He’s flicking through the menu pausing at the page with beer options. 10.59am. Too early?

I’m wondering if I’m scared.

I’m judging him for even considering a beer at this time. 

I’m listening to the softest parts of my insides at 30,000ft. They ask

Where might you be?

What are you doing? 

Last time I saw you you said you think of me everyday. 

The clock in my body ticks slowly over toward my next second

And I wonder again if I should be scared. 

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There there 

When the alarm went off at 5.30

I’m sure you were there.

That early a.m.

Pre travel excitement 

made me tickle you awake and say

‘It’s time’. 

On the train on the way to the airport

I watched as you pulled out a book. 

I got silly wanting you to talk to me about our impending trip. 

You sighed with a smile and closed the book on your lap.

I’m sure you were there.

At the airport 

Me wanting my first coffee

You frustrated.

You just want to get to the gate.

We struggled a little against our wants.

I know you were there.

As I reached for my seat belt on the plane I heard you unclasp your belt buckle in our bathroom

In our bedroom after a long day

At our bed

By the couch

By the table

And that one time in a hotel room by the television. 

I’m sure you were there. 

As the plane lifts off the tarmac 

I turn to take your hand…

‘There there’ I say to myself

Here. Here.

Be 

here. 

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