I am a survivor of child hood sexual abuse, domestic violence and have PTSD as well as bipolar.
I feel a serious and deep despondency about this entire erosion of female rights. I am typically manic at this time of year, what with the extra sunlight and long days but this year I have found myself stuck in a serious depressive slump for the first summer ever.
If rape is to be forcefully penetrated by a penis, against your will.....then what if the man that rapes somebody says he is a woman with a giant lady clitoris. Does that mean they were not raped?
A great deal of biological women have experienced male aggression/violence/intimidation etc. The youth hostels used to be a safe place to stay but now anybody can stay in any room at all and me, a person that is the same sex as 50% of the population am expected to pay a premium for a single room as it is now ME that is the freak that expects my private spaces to remain private. Done beliveve me? this a quote from an email when I enquired-
"We separate our shared dormitory accommodation by gender.
It sounds like on this occasion a private room would be most suitable for your stay."
So despite gender being a social construct that resides on the head, I am supposed to put my need for safe space to one side and allow anybody with a penis to share my room. Because of what is in their head.
What about what is in MY head?
What about my horrific memories of him climbing into bed behind me, forcing me flat against the wall and pushing my my little pony nighty up and hurting me? The smell of his semen on me and the sickly BO aroma that I was covered in afterwards from him sweating on me. Why the hell should I have to encounter that in a fucking changing room meant for WOMEN.
I do not want communal toilets either. When my fanny is dripping lumps of chopped up liver and i'm sat vulnerable with my pants round my ankles and I'm fighting with my moon cup, I do not want a 10 inch gap under a flimsy cubicle door with Bob the builder having a shit next to me and Mike from accounts trying to have a conversation about if I will go out for drinks with him. When my hands are covered in blood as its my heaviest day, I do not want the side eye from men at the sink as they judge me for having the fucking cheek to menstruate.
I was not able to join in with the manfriday stuff on twitter as my profession is linked to my account, how bad is that? I was scared to raise my voice despite it being a law abiding campaign!?
I have also postponed my PhD. I was due to start this year. Without sounding dramatic, this hangs like a black cloud over my head and I worry sick for my children. the rights of 50% of the population are being decimated for the few snowflakes that want to mansplain what it is to chest feed and campaign for two fathers on a birth certificate.
I'm a woman and proud. Men have not broken me yet but at times it does feel overwhelming and I am actually crying my eyes out writing this.
I am a woman.
NOT a ciswoman.