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Fuck Politeness

This is a revolution, not a public relations movement

Sometimes I think waaay too much. That’s not really evident in the writings on this blog I think, but it’s true…I will get all introverted and *thinky*, and dwell on stuff, and grind to a halt. I do it over politics and I do it over personal stuff. And I work myself into a lather over “who the fuck am I???” stuff…who the fuck am I to call myself a feminist? What have I done to fix shit? Who the fuck am I to rail at racism? What the fuck have I done lately?

I’ve done it with the blog. What the fuck is the point? Who the fuck am I? Do I really think the world can’t do without my writings? Do I really think I make a difference? Make anything better? Contribute to anything? Do I have anything I want to say that isn’t said already? That couldn’t be/hasn’t been said before/said better by someone else?

What the fuck is the POINT of my blog? What was I trying to achieve? (Oh so very masculine! Must have drive, purpose, singular focus, must be a unified solid mass to penetrate cyberspace!!! Otherwise is *nothing*, a lack, an absence. If so I should just be silent. Like a good woman! * )

So I drove myself totally nutty and I just couldn’t write anymore…because there ARE phenomenal writers out there, theorists, activists, poets, people doing wonderful work, so what the hell was the point of my pissweak little blog?

And then…I remembered…or should I say a friend gently reminded me…

I started this blog because of an issue over spaces.

There is space given to all sorts of offensive ideas, ideas which demean and belittle, ideas which justify violence, ideas which reproduce and encourage violence, aggression, debasement and humiliation on the basis of race, gender, sexual orientation, you name it…there’s a lot of “You are not normal (ie/ a white hetero male who doesn’t give a shit about politics, unless it’s HIS rights being infringed and just wants to be left alone with a beer and without his *nagging fucking Missus* or his *whinging fucking kids*) , so shut your fucking whinging mouths and get NORMAL” out there.

Space given in the papers. Space given on talkback radio. Space given on television, in films, in classrooms, offices, lecture theatres, public transport, pubs, shops, parks, swimming pools, space given in our goddamned heads. Every space through which I move has given space at one time or another to the forceful expounding of racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia…lots of phobias and isms. And sometimes I shout back. Oftentimes I’ve had to shut my mouth. Sometimes goddammit in order to avoid a massive confrontation I’ve had to fucking laugh just to make it STOP.

SO. What’s my point? My point is FUCK THAT.

My point is that if I have to put up with this crap, if I have to negotiate it, this is my place, my space in which to say no.

I may not say it eloquently enough to *deserve* a place in the blogosphere, others may well have said it better and earlier, but you know what? Now there’s one more. And I think there is value in the very act of saying it.

And now I’m too tired to actually say the *it* of it. But I’ll be back now I’ve remembered I do not need to *be* anything, that there is value in creating another space in which someone talks back.

* phallologocentrism, femininity as lack (Apologies for wiki references, but I’m tired and sick…goodnight)

 

 

 

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