When silence is not golden: On Weinstein and all the rest of them

We are silenced by fear. We are silenced by shame.  We are silenced by guilt.  By the myths and legends and stories and films and comments and images that tell us our voices are not as important, that we may be a victim but we are also at fault, that we just have to shut up and take what comes because this is the reality of life as a woman.

If there’s one thing for certain it’s that more silence is not going to change anything.



Generally speaking, I am one of those people who needs to be feeling like death before I go anywhere near a doctor.  Even then, if I think it’s death by virus, standard practice is paracetamol and a healthy dose of avoidance. Partly it’s a hallmark of being a teacher; the preparation of relief work while feverish is just about as…

Mother’s Day.

We have a chequered history, Mother’s Day and I. My first and second were right shitters, if we’re being honest.

Otherwise, you’re asking for it.

‘This piece of clothing prevents sexual assault.’ Umm, no it doesn’t.

You know what prevents sexual assault? People not sexually assaulting other people.

Men deciding that they don’t actually have the right to put their hands on a woman unless she wants them to. And so they don’t.