As much as on one level the idea rankles with me as a combination of arrogant and self-indulgent, I have decided to write a book. It's something I've always, always wanted to do; as a 13-year-old I completed several chapters of a Tolkienesque fantasy epic before my lack of self-confidence put a cap on the proceedings. Writing is somewhat of a love of mine, and I've decided to return to it, albeit this time not in the genre of fantasy. The work I'm looking to complete this time will be non-fiction.
I'm looking to tackle the issue of women in Ireland, or more specifically feminism in Ireland. You see, I'm in a bit of a quandry as to which I'm actually dealing with, since the two are pretty intrinsically linked. But perhaps an explanation of my reasoning in pursuing this topic will help to clarify.
I cannot tell you how many people I have spoken to in recent years, who have *informed* me that feminism is no longer relevant, or important, in contemporary society - as though we had reached some kind of plateau of equality and could progress no further. I also cannot tell you the precise extent to which I disagree with this. Not only do I disagree with it, but I take grave offence to the attached implication that women's treatment and emancipation is of limited importance, and we should not inconvenience society by pointing out how much further there is to go.
The truth is - according to me, which you are obviously free to reject - that feminism, or the struggle for perfect equality, will never cease to be necessary. It is not a finite project with a clear, preset goal which, once achieved, renders further endeavours pointless. It's incredibly complacent in my book to ever even suggest that society has reached some kind of pinnacle of equity - society can regress just as easily as it can progress, so that even if things are relatively just and equitable now, ideologies like feminism will always need to be vocal to prevent our society from backpedalling.
As it stands, in its' strictest interpretation, the most central goal of the feminist movement can never be *perfectly* achieved - that is, the absolutely equal treatment of men and women in all areas of society. For the most part, we cannot even agree on what that means as applicable to several areas. Personally, I see it as the availability of maximum choice - of lifestyle, career, etc - and the assessment of each individual on their own merits, rather than a broad assumption of their merits due to their belonging to a specific subset of the population. Namely, women. In my view, this is only attainable to a certain extent because it is part of the human condition to sort others into categories in our own mind for the sake of simplicity, if nothing else. Humankind, and the complexity that makes us so incredibly special and wonderful, is ironically something that we cannot seem to handle. Instead we break ourselves up into neat compartments - blacks, whites, men, women, children, elderly, Muslim, Christian, atheist - and assign each group a set of attributes. "Black women are bossy", "Irish people are all alcholics", "Germans are really uptight", "People under 30 have nothing to contribute", etc. etc., ad nauseum. I'm not commenting on how accurate or otherwise these assumptions are, just that we all have them to one extent or another.
Not only do we assign people categories, but very often we attach values to them as well. The extent to which we do this is largely dependent on our own levels of maturity and self-esteem - the more insecure we are individually, the more likely we are to project our inadequacy onto others in a classic "diminish the value of others to make yourself feel better" manouvre. Like the quintessential playground bully, we find a series of criteria according to which we can deem ourselves superior to our counterparts. Now, I'm no psychologist, so all of this is purely based on my own observation thus far, but I think it's fair to say that if we think about it, we kinda see this all the time.
Why Ireland, specifically? Well, obviously, it is the country of which I have the most first-hand experience and knowledge. I would want to do some pretty extensive research in order to feel comfortable tackling women's issues within an alternative cultural context. I also think that feminism is highly relevant to Ireland, perhaps even more so than to other European countries. Progress in the area of equality in general has been slow and hard-bought, and mostly at the behest of the EU since our membership began in 1973. Think back, in 1973 - contraception was still illegal, as was homosexuality, and women were still forced to quit their jobs int he private sector upon marriage. Because naturally, women cannot expect to be both a wife AND an employee, that would just be patently ridiculous!
As much as progress *has* been made, there are still major speedbumps along the road to perfect gender parity in Ireland - a road which has no definitive end. I want to look particularly at the way in which issues like domestic violence, sexual assault and discrimination are handled here, as well as Irish legislation that impacts on the independence and wellbeing of women in general. In my experience, there are major flaws in the way violence against women is handled in this country, and the experience of the victim seems to hang dangerously on the level of sympathy they receive from individual Gardai/lawyers etc they encounter. This is more than likely the case in many countries, but there seems to be very little recourse for those whose cases are mishandled.
For those of you who follow my blog, what do you think? Do you have any ideas? Do you think there's a place for such research? Let me know what you think, I'm always open to feedback :-)
Monday, November 1, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Promiscuity - getting what they deserve?
I spend quite a lot of time on forums. I enjoy it immensely - I find interpersonal communication so much easier via keyboard than in person. I'm not sure what that says about me as a person, but who cares? You find some incredibly interesting discussions on there.
One of the aforementioned interesting discussions was that old chestnut - whether or not women who dress "immodestly" (as if modesty were somehow objectively quantifiable to begin with) contribute to their own misfortune if they are raped. Essentially, whether or not you blame the victim. Whenever this question arises, I am simultaneously shocked and despairing at the amount of people who say yes.
The general consensus, which seems to be fairly equally shared by men and women, is that if you dress to attract men sexually, you are increasing your risk of being preyed on sexually because the manner in which you attract men is arbitrary - basically, you don't know which kind of guys are checking you out. Nice guys, or sexual predators? Sounds like a fair point, but I think it actually displays a pretty low level of understanding of the actual nature of rape, and those who commit it.
I'm currently researching the topic of sexual violence with the view of writing a book on feminism in Ireland, and a recurring theme in my study so far is that people actually have very little understanding of the subject. The stereotypical image of a "rape victim" held by the majority appears to be the old chestnut of the drunken bimbo in a miniskirt and stilettos making her way through a bad neighbourhood alone at 3am, who gets dragged down an alleyway by a lurking stranger in a trenchcoat. I know that's a tad on the descriptive side, but you get the general gist of what I'm saying. People seem to feel that many of the "causes" for the occurrence of rape lie somewhere within the behaviour and/or character of the victim, rather than the perpetrator. That if the victim had worn a longer skirt/ hadn't "flirted" unduly/ hadn't had anything to drink/ had chosen a different route home, the incident would not have occurred - and, by extension, if this *modest* behaviour were replicated by all women, the frequency of rape would consequently decrease.
This hypothesis, however, is not congruent with reality, and I will try to explain why. With the aforementioned hypothesis comes the underlying assumption that rape is about sexual gratification on the part of the perpetrator - his sexual urges simply overcome him at the sight of a woman's skin, and he becomes aroused to the point of being unable to control himself.
Here's what I posted on the forum in question:
Even debating whether or not the dress of the victim "causes" the rapist to commit the crime is inaccurate. A combination of misogyny, narcissism and miscellaneous psychoses are usually much closer to the root cause of rape. The "causes" are on the part of the rapist, not the victim. I can't remember where *exactly* I read this, so excuse the lack of citation, but I read an article on the subject, and one of the claims that stood out was that according to many psychologists, sexual gratification was actually pretty low down on the list of contributing factors to a developing rapist. It's not about *sex*, people. It's about power, control, and sadism. You cannot accurately cater to the mindset of a sociopath unless you either are one, or you're trained in fucking behavioural analysis.
There is a very, VERY limited extent to which you can *prevent* yourself from being raped. And I don't think that arguing about what women "should" be able to do is idealism, either. Someone brought up the analogy of a black man in early 20th-century American society falling in love with a white girl, and it was countered by how you shouldn't expect to rail against social norms like that and expect ignoramuses not to react explosively. But there is a difference between railing against such norms arbitrarily, and railing in a targeted and informed manner. The people countering such racist "morality" - in modern days, sexist "morality" - are not necessarily ignorant of the hostility they are going to be met with. But the fact is, if nobody ever countered accepted social norms such as these, society would never change, and we would remain in the same "moral" position ad nauseum. They have to be gone against, if they are ever going to evolve. If women dress modestly to protect themselves - ineffectively - against rape, it only perpetuates the notion that the control of an individuals' sexuality is womens' reponsibility.
Once more, it is important to remember also that the hypothesis being put forward here, that womens' dressing modestly would decrease the incidence of rape, is not borne out by evidence. Quite the contrary. In countries of South East Asia and the Middle East - my own boyfriend is from Pakistan - particularly in Muslim countries, where women are obliged by law to dress "modestly", rape is even more common than it is here. Women get raped wearing full burqas with greater frequency than they do miniskirts, because the kind of society that dictates to women how they must dress simultaneously tells men that women are not autonomous, and as such their choices and feelings are essentially worthless.
You want to decrease the incidence of rape? Pull your focus off of what the victim is wearing and onto the rapist. Impose stricter sentences on those convicted, and look at the messages we send out as a society to young men. Sexist advertising, levels of acceptance of "lesser" crimes against women such as harassment, stalking and domestic violence. Smash the glass ceiling. Pull our collective heads out of our collective arses.
Food for thought? What thinkest ye all??
One of the aforementioned interesting discussions was that old chestnut - whether or not women who dress "immodestly" (as if modesty were somehow objectively quantifiable to begin with) contribute to their own misfortune if they are raped. Essentially, whether or not you blame the victim. Whenever this question arises, I am simultaneously shocked and despairing at the amount of people who say yes.
The general consensus, which seems to be fairly equally shared by men and women, is that if you dress to attract men sexually, you are increasing your risk of being preyed on sexually because the manner in which you attract men is arbitrary - basically, you don't know which kind of guys are checking you out. Nice guys, or sexual predators? Sounds like a fair point, but I think it actually displays a pretty low level of understanding of the actual nature of rape, and those who commit it.
I'm currently researching the topic of sexual violence with the view of writing a book on feminism in Ireland, and a recurring theme in my study so far is that people actually have very little understanding of the subject. The stereotypical image of a "rape victim" held by the majority appears to be the old chestnut of the drunken bimbo in a miniskirt and stilettos making her way through a bad neighbourhood alone at 3am, who gets dragged down an alleyway by a lurking stranger in a trenchcoat. I know that's a tad on the descriptive side, but you get the general gist of what I'm saying. People seem to feel that many of the "causes" for the occurrence of rape lie somewhere within the behaviour and/or character of the victim, rather than the perpetrator. That if the victim had worn a longer skirt/ hadn't "flirted" unduly/ hadn't had anything to drink/ had chosen a different route home, the incident would not have occurred - and, by extension, if this *modest* behaviour were replicated by all women, the frequency of rape would consequently decrease.
This hypothesis, however, is not congruent with reality, and I will try to explain why. With the aforementioned hypothesis comes the underlying assumption that rape is about sexual gratification on the part of the perpetrator - his sexual urges simply overcome him at the sight of a woman's skin, and he becomes aroused to the point of being unable to control himself.
Here's what I posted on the forum in question:
Even debating whether or not the dress of the victim "causes" the rapist to commit the crime is inaccurate. A combination of misogyny, narcissism and miscellaneous psychoses are usually much closer to the root cause of rape. The "causes" are on the part of the rapist, not the victim. I can't remember where *exactly* I read this, so excuse the lack of citation, but I read an article on the subject, and one of the claims that stood out was that according to many psychologists, sexual gratification was actually pretty low down on the list of contributing factors to a developing rapist. It's not about *sex*, people. It's about power, control, and sadism. You cannot accurately cater to the mindset of a sociopath unless you either are one, or you're trained in fucking behavioural analysis.
There is a very, VERY limited extent to which you can *prevent* yourself from being raped. And I don't think that arguing about what women "should" be able to do is idealism, either. Someone brought up the analogy of a black man in early 20th-century American society falling in love with a white girl, and it was countered by how you shouldn't expect to rail against social norms like that and expect ignoramuses not to react explosively. But there is a difference between railing against such norms arbitrarily, and railing in a targeted and informed manner. The people countering such racist "morality" - in modern days, sexist "morality" - are not necessarily ignorant of the hostility they are going to be met with. But the fact is, if nobody ever countered accepted social norms such as these, society would never change, and we would remain in the same "moral" position ad nauseum. They have to be gone against, if they are ever going to evolve. If women dress modestly to protect themselves - ineffectively - against rape, it only perpetuates the notion that the control of an individuals' sexuality is womens' reponsibility.
Once more, it is important to remember also that the hypothesis being put forward here, that womens' dressing modestly would decrease the incidence of rape, is not borne out by evidence. Quite the contrary. In countries of South East Asia and the Middle East - my own boyfriend is from Pakistan - particularly in Muslim countries, where women are obliged by law to dress "modestly", rape is even more common than it is here. Women get raped wearing full burqas with greater frequency than they do miniskirts, because the kind of society that dictates to women how they must dress simultaneously tells men that women are not autonomous, and as such their choices and feelings are essentially worthless.
You want to decrease the incidence of rape? Pull your focus off of what the victim is wearing and onto the rapist. Impose stricter sentences on those convicted, and look at the messages we send out as a society to young men. Sexist advertising, levels of acceptance of "lesser" crimes against women such as harassment, stalking and domestic violence. Smash the glass ceiling. Pull our collective heads out of our collective arses.
Food for thought? What thinkest ye all??
Sunday, August 15, 2010
The Logic of the Damned, Pt 2
I have little patience for stupidity or wilful ignorance. I have always known this, and yet some kind of underlying masochism in me requires me to occasionally engage with idiots over the internet. I think it must be some kind of catharsis for the frustration I don’t often get to express in person, being the nonconfrontational sort that I am. Either way, I find myself every now and then getting really sucked in to heated “discussions” with people who are in possession of roughly the intellectual capacity of an iceberg lettuce. I don’t fully understand why I do this to myself, but I do.
Part of the reason why I find myself in these situations, though, is my few remaining links to the church group I used to go to – it is populated by some of the most breathtakingly vapid people I have ever known, and their interpretation of “Christ’s love” and “Christian charity” are nothing short of mind-bending. I am about to provide you with an example of this.
While I was a Christian, I always found it odd that of all the Biblical characters, Jesus was one of very few I actually felt an affinity to. He cared about the poor, he had his priorities straight. I could *identify* with Jesus. I got him, and I liked him, as a person. He challenged people who felt they had some kind of status in society, and propagated equality among all people, even in ways that made him less than popular. He actually talked to women like they were human beings. If he saw a need, he met it. He never lost sight of what was really important, and he had compassion. Other Biblical characters like Paul, and the apostles I could not relate to in the same way. They were too dogmatic, and I felt like they really lost sight of what was important. They had their eyes so firmly fixed on the “spiritual” that they neglected the practical. Jesus, in my eyes, didn’t do this – and even now, when I no longer consider him the son of god – it still frustrates me when those who claim to want to emulate him instead parrot his dogmatic early followers.
Example time now!
I have a number of FaceBook “friends” from my old church who have thus far failed to block me. I usually try to ignore their status updates, as they are almost universally saccharine enough to make you feel an actual ache in your pancreas. There are only so many consecutive exclamations of “I love Jeeeeesus” and “The lord is so good!”, because apparently you prayed for your car to start and – hey presto! – Jesus worked his magic juice on it, that I can bear without wanting to embark on a Columbine-style rampage at their next coffee morning.
About 2 days ago, one of them I had failed to notice was pointed out to me. One of the girls, let’s call her Sarah, had a photo of what looked like an ice cream van up, with this message:
So excited to go out tomorrow and show God's love to people. Heading to X Park with [girls’ name, let’s call her Claire] and we will be handing out free tea and coffee. Thanks again to [boys’ name] for his coffee van! Its kinda like this one in the picture. :) Its so cute!!! :D
Underneath the photo, someone made the excellent suggestion of charging 1 euro, or even having a collection there for the victims of the floods in Pakistan. This idea was immediately dismissed, based on the reasoning that god had “spoken to them”, and that apparently this was what he wanted them to do, because god was using free hot beverages to “bring people to him” - cue smiley faces. Passive aggressive, much? Anyway, I felt obliged to respond by pointing out that it was in fact an excellent idea, and that I couldn’t quite understand someone who claimed to model their worldview on that of Jesus considering offering free hot drinks to a Cork population already drowning in Barry’s tea more important than ameliorating the immediate suffering of the extreme poor after a natural disaster. Long sentence I know – but the response I got was thus, from Claire:
"Because i am called to be a servant to the Living God and do whatever He asks of me not what the world asks of me. Sorry that you don't understand this Grace but I'm living the impact and change God has had on my life so it is very importnat to me that those sick and dying in their souls know He can save them. :)"
I have a number of problems with this, but I feel it is necessary to be fair here and point out that I know this girl quite well, and the response was possibly not *quite* as passive-aggressive as it may appear. She’s actually very nice, and I feel somewhat disappointed that I must take such vehement issue with her approach. But I must, so I do. It’s not even the fact that they refused to organise a collection that annoyed me. If that just wasn’t the point of that particular event, OK – fair enough, I guess. I wouldn’t like it, but it wouldn’t annoy me half as much if they hadn’t more or less dismissed the plight of the Pakistani people as being less important than that of Corkonians to accept the Lorrrrrrrrd into their life. Just how far up your ass does your head need to be, in order for your set of priorities to be that arseways?
First off, the obvious. How precisely does bribing people with hot drinks – on a warm summer day, no less - ameliorate their “spiritual health”? Corkonians drink tea and coffee like fish drink water, and knowing them as I do you’d nearly have to tie them down to listen to a sermon while they drink it. They’ll just take the drink and fuck off. Why not do something even vaguely useful? For me, gags like this in the absence of any kind of collection for charity, etc., completely removes any facade of altruism and reveals these people for what they are – relentless proselytisers who want nothing other than to add more sheep to the sheep pen.
Secondly, the very idea of meeting the “needs” of those “sick and dying in their souls” before those of people who are literally sick and dying strikes me as bordering on farcical. It encapsulates the problem I had with people who neglected real issues for spiritual ones. I guess you could argue that the entire point of religion is to neglect the real for the “divine”, but in this case it irks me particularly, because this logical fallacy results in people dying. It’s just so, so irrational. I can scarcely get my head around it – I mean, even if it were purely levels of faith and “spiritual health” you were concerned about. I would imagine that watching their loved ones die for lack of basic food, sanitation and shelter in conditions scarcely fit for rats to live in would adversely affect the “spiritual health” of the Pakistani people.
The church is SURROUNDED by Cork people. They have their whole lives to meet Corkonians’ non-existent need for tea and coffee they can easily afford to buy anyway. The need of those suffering in the wake of the disaster in Pakistan is urgent and immmediate. If the church really cared about the poor and needy, they wouldn’t be wasting their time throwing hot drinks at bemused Cork people.
Also – seriously, would it be that much effort to have a collection there? Even if they didn’t charge for the tea and coffee, they could just have had a collection box for people to donate as and if they wished. All it would involve would be punching a hole in a box and writing on it. It would certainly involve far less manual labour than organising and setting up a hot drinks stand. It would literally cost them nothing to incorporate something like this into their event, and it would do so much good.
Even from their own perspective, at least pretending to care about Pakistan could benefit them. I for one would sure as hell be far more open to chatting to someone about anything if I felt they were supporting a good cause, even Jesus. If someone just bribed me with a drink to preach to me about the Lord, I would promptly explain that I needed the lord in me about as much as I did the beverage. As in, thanks, but not at all. It just makes them more credible as an organisation if they are seen to be doing something with an actual point. Other than shoving the love of Jeeeeesus down our throats with our hot tasty beverage.
To me, it just encapsulates everything I now hate about organised religion, especially the one I left. Even for those, like the girls above, who are relatively well-intentioned, the whole dogma of the religion removes their focus from the “world” – i.e. the problems right in front of their faces, and causes them to believe that the relationship some comfortable Westerner has with an questionably existent deity is more important than the constant, agonising suffering of people who are watching the people they love die unnecessarily. I mean, the disparity should be immediately obvious to anyone with a jot of empathy, or even logic, but both of these attributes are clouded in those who are devoutly religious by the need for “spiritual” issues to trump all others. As Claire rightly pointed out, it makes no sense to me – and to be perfectly honest, I’m fucking glad of it.
Part of the reason why I find myself in these situations, though, is my few remaining links to the church group I used to go to – it is populated by some of the most breathtakingly vapid people I have ever known, and their interpretation of “Christ’s love” and “Christian charity” are nothing short of mind-bending. I am about to provide you with an example of this.
While I was a Christian, I always found it odd that of all the Biblical characters, Jesus was one of very few I actually felt an affinity to. He cared about the poor, he had his priorities straight. I could *identify* with Jesus. I got him, and I liked him, as a person. He challenged people who felt they had some kind of status in society, and propagated equality among all people, even in ways that made him less than popular. He actually talked to women like they were human beings. If he saw a need, he met it. He never lost sight of what was really important, and he had compassion. Other Biblical characters like Paul, and the apostles I could not relate to in the same way. They were too dogmatic, and I felt like they really lost sight of what was important. They had their eyes so firmly fixed on the “spiritual” that they neglected the practical. Jesus, in my eyes, didn’t do this – and even now, when I no longer consider him the son of god – it still frustrates me when those who claim to want to emulate him instead parrot his dogmatic early followers.
Example time now!
I have a number of FaceBook “friends” from my old church who have thus far failed to block me. I usually try to ignore their status updates, as they are almost universally saccharine enough to make you feel an actual ache in your pancreas. There are only so many consecutive exclamations of “I love Jeeeeesus” and “The lord is so good!”, because apparently you prayed for your car to start and – hey presto! – Jesus worked his magic juice on it, that I can bear without wanting to embark on a Columbine-style rampage at their next coffee morning.
About 2 days ago, one of them I had failed to notice was pointed out to me. One of the girls, let’s call her Sarah, had a photo of what looked like an ice cream van up, with this message:
So excited to go out tomorrow and show God's love to people. Heading to X Park with [girls’ name, let’s call her Claire] and we will be handing out free tea and coffee. Thanks again to [boys’ name] for his coffee van! Its kinda like this one in the picture. :) Its so cute!!! :D
Underneath the photo, someone made the excellent suggestion of charging 1 euro, or even having a collection there for the victims of the floods in Pakistan. This idea was immediately dismissed, based on the reasoning that god had “spoken to them”, and that apparently this was what he wanted them to do, because god was using free hot beverages to “bring people to him” - cue smiley faces. Passive aggressive, much? Anyway, I felt obliged to respond by pointing out that it was in fact an excellent idea, and that I couldn’t quite understand someone who claimed to model their worldview on that of Jesus considering offering free hot drinks to a Cork population already drowning in Barry’s tea more important than ameliorating the immediate suffering of the extreme poor after a natural disaster. Long sentence I know – but the response I got was thus, from Claire:
"Because i am called to be a servant to the Living God and do whatever He asks of me not what the world asks of me. Sorry that you don't understand this Grace but I'm living the impact and change God has had on my life so it is very importnat to me that those sick and dying in their souls know He can save them. :)"
I have a number of problems with this, but I feel it is necessary to be fair here and point out that I know this girl quite well, and the response was possibly not *quite* as passive-aggressive as it may appear. She’s actually very nice, and I feel somewhat disappointed that I must take such vehement issue with her approach. But I must, so I do. It’s not even the fact that they refused to organise a collection that annoyed me. If that just wasn’t the point of that particular event, OK – fair enough, I guess. I wouldn’t like it, but it wouldn’t annoy me half as much if they hadn’t more or less dismissed the plight of the Pakistani people as being less important than that of Corkonians to accept the Lorrrrrrrrd into their life. Just how far up your ass does your head need to be, in order for your set of priorities to be that arseways?
First off, the obvious. How precisely does bribing people with hot drinks – on a warm summer day, no less - ameliorate their “spiritual health”? Corkonians drink tea and coffee like fish drink water, and knowing them as I do you’d nearly have to tie them down to listen to a sermon while they drink it. They’ll just take the drink and fuck off. Why not do something even vaguely useful? For me, gags like this in the absence of any kind of collection for charity, etc., completely removes any facade of altruism and reveals these people for what they are – relentless proselytisers who want nothing other than to add more sheep to the sheep pen.
Secondly, the very idea of meeting the “needs” of those “sick and dying in their souls” before those of people who are literally sick and dying strikes me as bordering on farcical. It encapsulates the problem I had with people who neglected real issues for spiritual ones. I guess you could argue that the entire point of religion is to neglect the real for the “divine”, but in this case it irks me particularly, because this logical fallacy results in people dying. It’s just so, so irrational. I can scarcely get my head around it – I mean, even if it were purely levels of faith and “spiritual health” you were concerned about. I would imagine that watching their loved ones die for lack of basic food, sanitation and shelter in conditions scarcely fit for rats to live in would adversely affect the “spiritual health” of the Pakistani people.
The church is SURROUNDED by Cork people. They have their whole lives to meet Corkonians’ non-existent need for tea and coffee they can easily afford to buy anyway. The need of those suffering in the wake of the disaster in Pakistan is urgent and immmediate. If the church really cared about the poor and needy, they wouldn’t be wasting their time throwing hot drinks at bemused Cork people.
Also – seriously, would it be that much effort to have a collection there? Even if they didn’t charge for the tea and coffee, they could just have had a collection box for people to donate as and if they wished. All it would involve would be punching a hole in a box and writing on it. It would certainly involve far less manual labour than organising and setting up a hot drinks stand. It would literally cost them nothing to incorporate something like this into their event, and it would do so much good.
Even from their own perspective, at least pretending to care about Pakistan could benefit them. I for one would sure as hell be far more open to chatting to someone about anything if I felt they were supporting a good cause, even Jesus. If someone just bribed me with a drink to preach to me about the Lord, I would promptly explain that I needed the lord in me about as much as I did the beverage. As in, thanks, but not at all. It just makes them more credible as an organisation if they are seen to be doing something with an actual point. Other than shoving the love of Jeeeeesus down our throats with our hot tasty beverage.
To me, it just encapsulates everything I now hate about organised religion, especially the one I left. Even for those, like the girls above, who are relatively well-intentioned, the whole dogma of the religion removes their focus from the “world” – i.e. the problems right in front of their faces, and causes them to believe that the relationship some comfortable Westerner has with an questionably existent deity is more important than the constant, agonising suffering of people who are watching the people they love die unnecessarily. I mean, the disparity should be immediately obvious to anyone with a jot of empathy, or even logic, but both of these attributes are clouded in those who are devoutly religious by the need for “spiritual” issues to trump all others. As Claire rightly pointed out, it makes no sense to me – and to be perfectly honest, I’m fucking glad of it.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
The Logic of the Damned
I have just returned from a week-long stay with friends in Germany, north of Frankfurt. I had an absolutely wonderful time, and as usual I loved my time there. I find Germans on the whole very pleasant to deal with, and I’m extremely lucky to have some wonderful friends there who go to crazy lengths to be hospitable.
While I was there, however – on the 24th of this month, to be precise – we turned on the TV to find ourselves greeted with an absolute catastrophe. Most of you will already have heard of this by now, although I’m not sure how much coverage it got yet outside of Germany, but there was a mass panic at the LoveParade dance event in Duisberg and 19 young people (so far) have died as a result. Approximately 500 more are missing still, most likely traumatised, injured, and wandering aimlessly.
The LoveParade has been a staple event for German young people for the past 15 years or so – it’s pretty much just a massive dance event comparable to any music or dance festival elsewhere. For Irish readers, think of Oxygen, only 20 times bigger. It has always been held in Berlin in the past, but this year they decided to move to Duisberg due to the chaos it causes in the capital. Apparently, though, it was very poorly planned and executed in Duisberg, and the authorities did not properly plan for the sheer number of people attending (approximately 1.4 million). The facilities and space provided were totally inadequate, with a capacity in some places of just 250,000. Uncharacteristic of the Germans I think, but the consequences were fatal. A mass panic was started when too many people passed through a tunnel in the city, and the result was sheer anarchy. The fatalities were, essentially, trampled to death. 19 young, vibrant people in the prime of their lives, cut short in a horrific manner. Just looking at the videos and the photos was enough to send a shiver up my spine – it looked like my worst nightmare realised. I experienced something similar during my time in Africa last year, on a smaller scale, and let me tell you that even if you are not seriously hurt, it is utterly traumatising. People lose their minds in a panic situation, and it’s terrifying. You can’t breathe, you can’t move, and the noise is overwhelming.
Bearing this horrible situation in mind, there is one public reaction I have come to expect and be repulsed by, when it comes to major catastrophes. That is the “it was God’s judgement” response. This never fails to make me livid with rage. Honestly, every time I hear someone say this I want to beat them over the head with a fucking Bible. Or a brick. Anything that comes to hand, really, but I prefer the irony of beating them with religious paraphernalia.
And lo, someone came out with it! The callous, shit-for-brains individual concerned we shall name Nora X, and she’s a well-known publisher who stated via her Twitter feed that the LoveParade event was always inherently sinful, that it was their [the young peoples’, presumably] own fault, and that it was... of course... God’s judgement. I don’t think there are actually words for just how angry the injustice and the sheer logical fallacy of this enrages me. It makes me see red. It’s part of what I hate about the religious mindset, or at least that of fundamentalists. I think some people are constantly searching for ways in which to determine themselves superior to others in some way – sometimes it’s racism (I’m better because I’m white), sexism (I’m better because I have a penis), status (I’m better because I have a BMW), education (I’m better because I have a degree), and often, sectarianism or religious discrimination (I’m better because I follow the *right* religion, and ergo am morally superior).
This in itself infuriates me – this attempt to denigrate the rest of the human race for being different to you. What brings the “god’s judgement” response onto a whole other plateau of assholery, however, is the element of being willing to use a catastrophe, and the grief and despair it causes, as a vehicle by which to assert your superiority. I mean, you’re essentially sacrificing the peoples’ deaths, and the despair of their families, on the altar of your own self-satisfaction. Lack of empathy to that extent is just utterly incomprehensible to me. I mean, really – what the fuck is wrong with you? 19 young people are dead - people whose characters, behaviours and personalities you know nothing of, besides the fact that they enjoy a particular genre of music. However, you (and here I obviously mean Nora X) are meanwhile both callous and arrogant enough to assert that you actually have the answer to the massive question of why this happened, and that it is the fault of the unfortunate young people in question.
Go fuck yourself. Seriously. Just do us all a favour and go fuck yourself. And if you’re more offended by that statement than Nora X’s, you need to get your head checked.
I mean, the concept of such events being a reflection of God’s judgement is both offensive and fallacious on several levels. For starters, the God you assert is so pissed with us, may or may not exist in the first place, so please don’t go making any wild claims about him. Furthermore, if God really does cause natural disasters every now and again in a fit of rage - he should probably be tested for manic depression, as frankly his behaviour seems rather erratic and his judgement sporadic at best. Also, wouldn’t God have bigger fish to fry? I know if I was an omniscient, omnipotent deity there are plenty of things wrong in this world I would care about a great deal more than young people in Duisberg drinking alcohol, listening to music, eating too much junk food and *shock* maybe having sex outside of marriage! For instance, an earthquake would have swallowed the Vatican whole fucking years ago. Please excuse me if making the world safe for paedophiles ranks higher on my list of “sins” than enjoying dance music.
The Love Parade isn’t exactly the only place in the world where drinking and debauchery takes place – in fact, if these things really were smiteworthy I’m pretty sure that Ireland for one would no longer exist. God should see what goes on in Freakscene on a Wednesday night. I’m sure he’d be shocked out.
I know my response is somewhat satirical, but please believe it is in earnest. I’m not entirely sure how to respond to such wilful stupidity – on the one hand, it is illogical enough to be met with derisive humour from anyone of moderate intelligence, but on the other it’s also offensive enough to be met with a smack in the face. If the god of Nora X is responsible for the disaster in Duisberg, then he’s as much of an asshole as she is. I mean, how is such a horrific statement an incentive to follow her religious beliefs, or to believe them valid? A god who kills random young people sporadically and in a horrific manner is not someone I would ever worship willingly. Apparently, though, some would, and I think that it speaks to their character. And not in a nice way.
So, to summarise. If you are Nora X (unlikely), or anyone who believes as she does about such catastrophic events - fuck you. If your smugness is more important to you than the grief and loss of 19 young peoples’ families – innocent people who have lost daughters, sons, sisters, brothers, and friends and are trying to reconstruct lives shattered by sudden bereavement – fuck you. As far as I’m concerned you can crawl into a hole and die, as you deserve even less empathy than you’re willing to give.
If you’re not – please accept my apologies for the language, and rant over *^_^*
While I was there, however – on the 24th of this month, to be precise – we turned on the TV to find ourselves greeted with an absolute catastrophe. Most of you will already have heard of this by now, although I’m not sure how much coverage it got yet outside of Germany, but there was a mass panic at the LoveParade dance event in Duisberg and 19 young people (so far) have died as a result. Approximately 500 more are missing still, most likely traumatised, injured, and wandering aimlessly.
The LoveParade has been a staple event for German young people for the past 15 years or so – it’s pretty much just a massive dance event comparable to any music or dance festival elsewhere. For Irish readers, think of Oxygen, only 20 times bigger. It has always been held in Berlin in the past, but this year they decided to move to Duisberg due to the chaos it causes in the capital. Apparently, though, it was very poorly planned and executed in Duisberg, and the authorities did not properly plan for the sheer number of people attending (approximately 1.4 million). The facilities and space provided were totally inadequate, with a capacity in some places of just 250,000. Uncharacteristic of the Germans I think, but the consequences were fatal. A mass panic was started when too many people passed through a tunnel in the city, and the result was sheer anarchy. The fatalities were, essentially, trampled to death. 19 young, vibrant people in the prime of their lives, cut short in a horrific manner. Just looking at the videos and the photos was enough to send a shiver up my spine – it looked like my worst nightmare realised. I experienced something similar during my time in Africa last year, on a smaller scale, and let me tell you that even if you are not seriously hurt, it is utterly traumatising. People lose their minds in a panic situation, and it’s terrifying. You can’t breathe, you can’t move, and the noise is overwhelming.
Bearing this horrible situation in mind, there is one public reaction I have come to expect and be repulsed by, when it comes to major catastrophes. That is the “it was God’s judgement” response. This never fails to make me livid with rage. Honestly, every time I hear someone say this I want to beat them over the head with a fucking Bible. Or a brick. Anything that comes to hand, really, but I prefer the irony of beating them with religious paraphernalia.
And lo, someone came out with it! The callous, shit-for-brains individual concerned we shall name Nora X, and she’s a well-known publisher who stated via her Twitter feed that the LoveParade event was always inherently sinful, that it was their [the young peoples’, presumably] own fault, and that it was... of course... God’s judgement. I don’t think there are actually words for just how angry the injustice and the sheer logical fallacy of this enrages me. It makes me see red. It’s part of what I hate about the religious mindset, or at least that of fundamentalists. I think some people are constantly searching for ways in which to determine themselves superior to others in some way – sometimes it’s racism (I’m better because I’m white), sexism (I’m better because I have a penis), status (I’m better because I have a BMW), education (I’m better because I have a degree), and often, sectarianism or religious discrimination (I’m better because I follow the *right* religion, and ergo am morally superior).
This in itself infuriates me – this attempt to denigrate the rest of the human race for being different to you. What brings the “god’s judgement” response onto a whole other plateau of assholery, however, is the element of being willing to use a catastrophe, and the grief and despair it causes, as a vehicle by which to assert your superiority. I mean, you’re essentially sacrificing the peoples’ deaths, and the despair of their families, on the altar of your own self-satisfaction. Lack of empathy to that extent is just utterly incomprehensible to me. I mean, really – what the fuck is wrong with you? 19 young people are dead - people whose characters, behaviours and personalities you know nothing of, besides the fact that they enjoy a particular genre of music. However, you (and here I obviously mean Nora X) are meanwhile both callous and arrogant enough to assert that you actually have the answer to the massive question of why this happened, and that it is the fault of the unfortunate young people in question.
Go fuck yourself. Seriously. Just do us all a favour and go fuck yourself. And if you’re more offended by that statement than Nora X’s, you need to get your head checked.
I mean, the concept of such events being a reflection of God’s judgement is both offensive and fallacious on several levels. For starters, the God you assert is so pissed with us, may or may not exist in the first place, so please don’t go making any wild claims about him. Furthermore, if God really does cause natural disasters every now and again in a fit of rage - he should probably be tested for manic depression, as frankly his behaviour seems rather erratic and his judgement sporadic at best. Also, wouldn’t God have bigger fish to fry? I know if I was an omniscient, omnipotent deity there are plenty of things wrong in this world I would care about a great deal more than young people in Duisberg drinking alcohol, listening to music, eating too much junk food and *shock* maybe having sex outside of marriage! For instance, an earthquake would have swallowed the Vatican whole fucking years ago. Please excuse me if making the world safe for paedophiles ranks higher on my list of “sins” than enjoying dance music.
The Love Parade isn’t exactly the only place in the world where drinking and debauchery takes place – in fact, if these things really were smiteworthy I’m pretty sure that Ireland for one would no longer exist. God should see what goes on in Freakscene on a Wednesday night. I’m sure he’d be shocked out.
I know my response is somewhat satirical, but please believe it is in earnest. I’m not entirely sure how to respond to such wilful stupidity – on the one hand, it is illogical enough to be met with derisive humour from anyone of moderate intelligence, but on the other it’s also offensive enough to be met with a smack in the face. If the god of Nora X is responsible for the disaster in Duisberg, then he’s as much of an asshole as she is. I mean, how is such a horrific statement an incentive to follow her religious beliefs, or to believe them valid? A god who kills random young people sporadically and in a horrific manner is not someone I would ever worship willingly. Apparently, though, some would, and I think that it speaks to their character. And not in a nice way.
So, to summarise. If you are Nora X (unlikely), or anyone who believes as she does about such catastrophic events - fuck you. If your smugness is more important to you than the grief and loss of 19 young peoples’ families – innocent people who have lost daughters, sons, sisters, brothers, and friends and are trying to reconstruct lives shattered by sudden bereavement – fuck you. As far as I’m concerned you can crawl into a hole and die, as you deserve even less empathy than you’re willing to give.
If you’re not – please accept my apologies for the language, and rant over *^_^*
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
For the women of Cork
I was sitting on the bus yesterday, making my way home from a night in my friend’s house. Due to certain circumstances, I was already thinking about the Irish justice system when I boarded. For the most part, I was lamenting internally its’ inefficiency and overall uselessness. It takes forever to get anything done, as I’m sure it does in most countries – but in Ireland it really seems as if the system is actively trying to screw those who are most dependent on its’ assistance, namely those who have been victimised, or abused and have no recourse to justice but to seek it in court as they cannot defend themselves. It takes forever for cases to reach court, evidence is frequently misplaced or neglected, sentences are farcically lenient, and the policework required to enable cases to reach court in the first place is substandard.
It was during this rather depressing internal monologue that I heard an announcement on local radio news, among the chatter and the noise, that genuinely scared the crap out of me. According to Garda (police) statistics, the number of reported rapes in Cork city area has increased by 500% in a one year period.
That’s not a typo with an extra zero there. Five hundred per cent, since this time last year. There is of course the question to be considered as to the cause – are more women being raped, or is it the case that a far greater proportion of them are reporting it? Given the treatment of sexual assault cases in Ireland, which I have touched on in previous posts, I find it rather difficult to believe the latter. This statistic leads me to a number of conclusions, all of which are deeply unsettling.
As I have said, I find it hard to believe that a 500% increase in number of rapes being reported during a one year period, isolated within one regional area, can be attributed to higher incidence of reporting by victims. As such, the increase must be reflective of a massive increase in the number of assaults. 500% is a terrifying figure. It would also suggest to me that we have at least one serial offender responsible – it’s not a difficult conclusion to draw. We have to consider the number of rapes historically committed per annum in Cork, and the kind of numbers represented by a 500% increase. Say for example, the increase represents 150 assaults. The possibility of an increase or decrease in crime levels by such an amount is proportionate to the size of the population of the area in question. An increase by 150 assaults could much more likely be coincidental in a major city – London, Paris, Berlin. In a population the size of Cork’s, though, the likelihood of such an increase consisting of purely isolated incidents is practically zero.
It led me to thinking about the likelihood of there being an appropriate response to this near certainty (of a serial rapist, or more than one) by an Garda Síochána. I have tremendous respect on an individual level for certain gardaí I know personally – and as a profession in general I consider it extremely worthy. But as a woman in Cork, I have little faith that major perpetrators of sexual assaults here will be apprehended before many, many more women are hurt. If ever. In what little dealings I have had with the police force here, I have found their response to even the most basic of crimes insufficient and sluggish. We are totally unprepared in Ireland for serial crime. There was an entire spate of female disappearances in the midlands in the 1990s, such as that of JoJo Dullard, which are widely believed to be related but remain unsolved. Our response to serial offenders – by understanding, and consequently being able to adequately predict or apprehend the various psychoses that drive their behaviour – is effectively nonexistent. It frustrates me, because there is no want of talent in Ireland for such things, the systems are just not in place to channel that talent and expertise into effective, specialised police subforces dedicated to such crime.
So, in the meantime, if you live in Cork and happen to be female – please don’t take any chances. I don’t want to cause undue alarm, but I think the aforementioned statistics speak for themselves. The piece mentioned two specific scenarios to be aware of – home invasion assaults, and assaults on women who were heavily inebriated. Double check that your windows and doors are locked before you go to bed. If you’re drinking, either try not to drink to excess or at least stick to a group. Be aware of your surroundings as much as you can, and trust your instincts. It strikes me as hypocritical how we are so averse to displays of assertiveness in women here, be it in the form of turning guys down flat or setting firm boundaries if someone is bothering you – and yet when a woman is attacked, we often blame her for not doing precisely these same things. Should anything happen to you, or even if it has happened in the past, it was unequivocally NOT your fault. We can only be responsible for that which we can control, and since rape is by its’ very nature the deprivation of control over what happens to one’s own body, the responsibility for rape lies irrevocably with the perpetrator. It doesn’t matter what preceded it, or how much he might have felt you “led him on”. But I would rather as few women (or indeed men) as at all possible be subject to the horror of being raped, so please, if you’re reading this – be careful. Don’t put yourself in situations you are unsure of, and if you find yourself in one anyway, it’s better some random guy think you’re acting like a complete freak than you get assaulted. Try to find the balance between being cautious and sensible, and accepting that rape is never the victim’s fault, and as such your preventative measures can only ever be a precaution against something outside of your control.
Please be safe, and be aware – not only for yourself, but for the women around you. No-one deserves the pain of being raped, save perhaps those who inflict it on others – who, for the record, I would gladly have skinned and rolled in salt. With any luck those responsible for the dramatic increase in the past year will end up with a bad dose of karma, and preferably floating face down in the Lee.
It was during this rather depressing internal monologue that I heard an announcement on local radio news, among the chatter and the noise, that genuinely scared the crap out of me. According to Garda (police) statistics, the number of reported rapes in Cork city area has increased by 500% in a one year period.
That’s not a typo with an extra zero there. Five hundred per cent, since this time last year. There is of course the question to be considered as to the cause – are more women being raped, or is it the case that a far greater proportion of them are reporting it? Given the treatment of sexual assault cases in Ireland, which I have touched on in previous posts, I find it rather difficult to believe the latter. This statistic leads me to a number of conclusions, all of which are deeply unsettling.
As I have said, I find it hard to believe that a 500% increase in number of rapes being reported during a one year period, isolated within one regional area, can be attributed to higher incidence of reporting by victims. As such, the increase must be reflective of a massive increase in the number of assaults. 500% is a terrifying figure. It would also suggest to me that we have at least one serial offender responsible – it’s not a difficult conclusion to draw. We have to consider the number of rapes historically committed per annum in Cork, and the kind of numbers represented by a 500% increase. Say for example, the increase represents 150 assaults. The possibility of an increase or decrease in crime levels by such an amount is proportionate to the size of the population of the area in question. An increase by 150 assaults could much more likely be coincidental in a major city – London, Paris, Berlin. In a population the size of Cork’s, though, the likelihood of such an increase consisting of purely isolated incidents is practically zero.
It led me to thinking about the likelihood of there being an appropriate response to this near certainty (of a serial rapist, or more than one) by an Garda Síochána. I have tremendous respect on an individual level for certain gardaí I know personally – and as a profession in general I consider it extremely worthy. But as a woman in Cork, I have little faith that major perpetrators of sexual assaults here will be apprehended before many, many more women are hurt. If ever. In what little dealings I have had with the police force here, I have found their response to even the most basic of crimes insufficient and sluggish. We are totally unprepared in Ireland for serial crime. There was an entire spate of female disappearances in the midlands in the 1990s, such as that of JoJo Dullard, which are widely believed to be related but remain unsolved. Our response to serial offenders – by understanding, and consequently being able to adequately predict or apprehend the various psychoses that drive their behaviour – is effectively nonexistent. It frustrates me, because there is no want of talent in Ireland for such things, the systems are just not in place to channel that talent and expertise into effective, specialised police subforces dedicated to such crime.
So, in the meantime, if you live in Cork and happen to be female – please don’t take any chances. I don’t want to cause undue alarm, but I think the aforementioned statistics speak for themselves. The piece mentioned two specific scenarios to be aware of – home invasion assaults, and assaults on women who were heavily inebriated. Double check that your windows and doors are locked before you go to bed. If you’re drinking, either try not to drink to excess or at least stick to a group. Be aware of your surroundings as much as you can, and trust your instincts. It strikes me as hypocritical how we are so averse to displays of assertiveness in women here, be it in the form of turning guys down flat or setting firm boundaries if someone is bothering you – and yet when a woman is attacked, we often blame her for not doing precisely these same things. Should anything happen to you, or even if it has happened in the past, it was unequivocally NOT your fault. We can only be responsible for that which we can control, and since rape is by its’ very nature the deprivation of control over what happens to one’s own body, the responsibility for rape lies irrevocably with the perpetrator. It doesn’t matter what preceded it, or how much he might have felt you “led him on”. But I would rather as few women (or indeed men) as at all possible be subject to the horror of being raped, so please, if you’re reading this – be careful. Don’t put yourself in situations you are unsure of, and if you find yourself in one anyway, it’s better some random guy think you’re acting like a complete freak than you get assaulted. Try to find the balance between being cautious and sensible, and accepting that rape is never the victim’s fault, and as such your preventative measures can only ever be a precaution against something outside of your control.
Please be safe, and be aware – not only for yourself, but for the women around you. No-one deserves the pain of being raped, save perhaps those who inflict it on others – who, for the record, I would gladly have skinned and rolled in salt. With any luck those responsible for the dramatic increase in the past year will end up with a bad dose of karma, and preferably floating face down in the Lee.
Friday, June 11, 2010
S.S.S. (Sodding Social Services)
Please bear with me while I vent.
In February of this year, I reported my own parents to social services for their treatment of my younger brother. Abuse, in almost all of its conceivable manifestations, has been a part of our family life for some time now, and I really feel that my brother - we'll call him Paul - bears the brunt of this.
My mother has had issues with depression and overall mental health for some years now. Much as I love the woman - and I do - she is self-absorbed, insecure, spiteful, vicious and has a severe "martyr complex". She views herself as the eternal victim, and is entirely averse to so much as the mere concept of personal accountability. My father, while decidedly more mentally stable, is - to use a colloquialism - completely whipped. My mother has always been incredibly condescending towards him, especially in arguments. I think it's a part of her insecurity, but the effect of this on him is that I believe him to feel more or less entirely emasculated. He feels he gets no respect from my mother, but he can't punish her because that just wouldn't be appropriate, so he transfers his requirement for respect and authority(ish) onto his children. I think he is, deep down, a very good man, as I think in some ways a lesser man would just have taken this rage out on his partner, but this transference is dangerous. It is even more dangerous when you combine it with my mother's mental instability and lack of responsibility, and a complete inability on his part to stand up to her. I also think he feels incredibly isolated, and the thought of his marriage to mom actually breaking down terrifies him, so he's afraid to rock the boat too much.
Thing is, my sympathy for them kinda ends there. I love them, but they are seriously. fucked. up.
Since my teens, I myself have been shouted at, screamed at, hit, slapped, punched, choked and told that my family would be better off without me. Not all the time, just when my mother was in one of her "moods". These periods would be interspersed with relative affection and normality - whatever that is - so for adolescent me this was all rather confusing. I got on rather well with my dad, mainly because I didn't tend to try to get him involved in the conflicts between me and my mom, and I am by nature HIGHLY non-confrontational. I used to blame myself entirely for the abuse, and rationalise it by saying that my mom was just very stressed. My sister - let's call her Paula - is autistic and has numerous health issues, and this was a major stressor for my mom.
However, things have escalated since then, and now that I am in my 20s and no longer living at home, it is Paul who bears the brunt of - mainly my mother's - frustrations. He is more confrontational and a traditional "angry teenager" than I was, so he tends to get into confrontations with both of my parents. He talks back, he gives cheek, he doesn't do as he's told. Relatively standard fare, to be honest. Any of you who have, or have ever known, a teenage boy can probably testify to this. Teenagers are fucking annoying... But the response to his relatively minor transgressions is anything but normal. There have been increasinly numerous occasions where Michael is kicked, slapped, punched in the face and head, hit with objects like rods, screamed at, threatened and otherwise abused, and it makes me fucking sick. I am honestly disgusted at my own parents. I love them, but right now they disgust me.
So - I reported them. In February, initially. There was another incident that was quickly spiralling out of control, and something inside me just snapped. Paul is 9 years younger than me, and to be honest my feelings for him are somewhere smack-bang in the middle of sisterly and maternal. I'm very protective of him, and I knew that something had to break the cycle, and that furthermore it wasn't going to come from within the family, if at all. I went to the police station in town and filed a report. The police spoke to my parents, brought Michael home (I have no authority to remove him from the house, not being his legal guardian), and referred the case on to social services.
It was 12 weeks - twelve. fucking. weeks, before anyone contacted my family about the case. Never mind the fact that anything could have happened in my family during the course of 12 weeks, when they did contact the family, it was my parents they called. Reasonably enough, you may say, but they barely spoke to my brother about it, and they didn't speak to me at all. As both the one who initially filed the report, and an adult member of the immediate family, I would have imagined it would be only rational for them to inform me of any progress.
No, no - I actually had to ring the HSE, ring my brother to ask HIM what the social worker's name was, track down her number myself, ring her and REQUEST an interview in order to give my side of the story... only to be told that for me to do so, she would require my parents' consent.
Well - that's fucking bright, isn't it? Because as the ones actually being accused of child abuse here, it's not like my parents have anything to HIDE that they might not want me to say to the social worker, what with me being the only non-abusive adult involved in the whole scenario and all. There's no way they could have any illegitimate reason to withdraw their consent for me to give my side of the story. Fortunately, though, they DID give their consent, but the fact that it was necessary at all seems superfluous and illogical. It's not even like I was looking for confidential information. I was a member of the family and a witness, trying to give my perspective. Jesus Christ on a bike Ireland drives me insane sometimes.
Since then, things have gone from bad to slightly worse. Social Services are just epically unhelpful in this country. It's breathtaking. The social worker in question has gone from unhelpful, to rude, to victim-blaming, to justifying my parents, to just fucking useless to unhelpful again. There was another incident about 2 weeks ago and when I rang maybe 4 days later to report it to her, she gave out to me for not acting fast enough, saying that it sounded like a serious incident.
First off, you thick bitch - it was a serious incident the last time, too, and you took 12 fucking WEEKS to do anything about it, so hey - I guess I figured 4 days wouldn't offend you. Secondly, I was doing things in those 4 days that involved getting my only income from a charity, since I've been kicked out of home and am basically destitue, and ensuring that my brother was in no immediate danger. Thirdly, how fucking easy do you think this is for me exactly? I've basically made myself a social pariah in my own family. The only people who appreciate what I'm trying to do is Paul and Paula - everybody else thinks I'm a neurotic oversensitive bitch who just doesn't appreciate how hard her parents have it, sob sob! So you can take that attitude and shove it right up your fucking ass. This same woman told my brother in her initial interview with him that she saw no problem with a ibt of corporal punishment. There's a reassuring sentiment from a child protection worker if ever there was one.
Right now, I'm at my wit's end, basically. I reported my parents to authorities as a last resort, and they've helped about as much as a chocolate fireman would have with the Towering Inferno. Hooray, another victory for Mary Harney and her team of incompentent gobshites!!
In February of this year, I reported my own parents to social services for their treatment of my younger brother. Abuse, in almost all of its conceivable manifestations, has been a part of our family life for some time now, and I really feel that my brother - we'll call him Paul - bears the brunt of this.
My mother has had issues with depression and overall mental health for some years now. Much as I love the woman - and I do - she is self-absorbed, insecure, spiteful, vicious and has a severe "martyr complex". She views herself as the eternal victim, and is entirely averse to so much as the mere concept of personal accountability. My father, while decidedly more mentally stable, is - to use a colloquialism - completely whipped. My mother has always been incredibly condescending towards him, especially in arguments. I think it's a part of her insecurity, but the effect of this on him is that I believe him to feel more or less entirely emasculated. He feels he gets no respect from my mother, but he can't punish her because that just wouldn't be appropriate, so he transfers his requirement for respect and authority(ish) onto his children. I think he is, deep down, a very good man, as I think in some ways a lesser man would just have taken this rage out on his partner, but this transference is dangerous. It is even more dangerous when you combine it with my mother's mental instability and lack of responsibility, and a complete inability on his part to stand up to her. I also think he feels incredibly isolated, and the thought of his marriage to mom actually breaking down terrifies him, so he's afraid to rock the boat too much.
Thing is, my sympathy for them kinda ends there. I love them, but they are seriously. fucked. up.
Since my teens, I myself have been shouted at, screamed at, hit, slapped, punched, choked and told that my family would be better off without me. Not all the time, just when my mother was in one of her "moods". These periods would be interspersed with relative affection and normality - whatever that is - so for adolescent me this was all rather confusing. I got on rather well with my dad, mainly because I didn't tend to try to get him involved in the conflicts between me and my mom, and I am by nature HIGHLY non-confrontational. I used to blame myself entirely for the abuse, and rationalise it by saying that my mom was just very stressed. My sister - let's call her Paula - is autistic and has numerous health issues, and this was a major stressor for my mom.
However, things have escalated since then, and now that I am in my 20s and no longer living at home, it is Paul who bears the brunt of - mainly my mother's - frustrations. He is more confrontational and a traditional "angry teenager" than I was, so he tends to get into confrontations with both of my parents. He talks back, he gives cheek, he doesn't do as he's told. Relatively standard fare, to be honest. Any of you who have, or have ever known, a teenage boy can probably testify to this. Teenagers are fucking annoying... But the response to his relatively minor transgressions is anything but normal. There have been increasinly numerous occasions where Michael is kicked, slapped, punched in the face and head, hit with objects like rods, screamed at, threatened and otherwise abused, and it makes me fucking sick. I am honestly disgusted at my own parents. I love them, but right now they disgust me.
So - I reported them. In February, initially. There was another incident that was quickly spiralling out of control, and something inside me just snapped. Paul is 9 years younger than me, and to be honest my feelings for him are somewhere smack-bang in the middle of sisterly and maternal. I'm very protective of him, and I knew that something had to break the cycle, and that furthermore it wasn't going to come from within the family, if at all. I went to the police station in town and filed a report. The police spoke to my parents, brought Michael home (I have no authority to remove him from the house, not being his legal guardian), and referred the case on to social services.
It was 12 weeks - twelve. fucking. weeks, before anyone contacted my family about the case. Never mind the fact that anything could have happened in my family during the course of 12 weeks, when they did contact the family, it was my parents they called. Reasonably enough, you may say, but they barely spoke to my brother about it, and they didn't speak to me at all. As both the one who initially filed the report, and an adult member of the immediate family, I would have imagined it would be only rational for them to inform me of any progress.
No, no - I actually had to ring the HSE, ring my brother to ask HIM what the social worker's name was, track down her number myself, ring her and REQUEST an interview in order to give my side of the story... only to be told that for me to do so, she would require my parents' consent.
Well - that's fucking bright, isn't it? Because as the ones actually being accused of child abuse here, it's not like my parents have anything to HIDE that they might not want me to say to the social worker, what with me being the only non-abusive adult involved in the whole scenario and all. There's no way they could have any illegitimate reason to withdraw their consent for me to give my side of the story. Fortunately, though, they DID give their consent, but the fact that it was necessary at all seems superfluous and illogical. It's not even like I was looking for confidential information. I was a member of the family and a witness, trying to give my perspective. Jesus Christ on a bike Ireland drives me insane sometimes.
Since then, things have gone from bad to slightly worse. Social Services are just epically unhelpful in this country. It's breathtaking. The social worker in question has gone from unhelpful, to rude, to victim-blaming, to justifying my parents, to just fucking useless to unhelpful again. There was another incident about 2 weeks ago and when I rang maybe 4 days later to report it to her, she gave out to me for not acting fast enough, saying that it sounded like a serious incident.
First off, you thick bitch - it was a serious incident the last time, too, and you took 12 fucking WEEKS to do anything about it, so hey - I guess I figured 4 days wouldn't offend you. Secondly, I was doing things in those 4 days that involved getting my only income from a charity, since I've been kicked out of home and am basically destitue, and ensuring that my brother was in no immediate danger. Thirdly, how fucking easy do you think this is for me exactly? I've basically made myself a social pariah in my own family. The only people who appreciate what I'm trying to do is Paul and Paula - everybody else thinks I'm a neurotic oversensitive bitch who just doesn't appreciate how hard her parents have it, sob sob! So you can take that attitude and shove it right up your fucking ass. This same woman told my brother in her initial interview with him that she saw no problem with a ibt of corporal punishment. There's a reassuring sentiment from a child protection worker if ever there was one.
Right now, I'm at my wit's end, basically. I reported my parents to authorities as a last resort, and they've helped about as much as a chocolate fireman would have with the Towering Inferno. Hooray, another victory for Mary Harney and her team of incompentent gobshites!!
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Mensa, here I come?
Very recently, I applied to sit the supervised test to prove myself eligible for Mensa membership. That may appear to some a pompous thing to do, but for me, it was important. I passed the home test some years ago, but ever since I have long put off sitting the supervised test. Why? I am not entirely sure – I think that a part of me was afraid of failing it. My intellect is as much a part of my personal identity as my nationality or my hair colour, but one I am significantly more self-conscious about. I sometimes find it hard to acknowledge my own cognitive ability – I was taught for so long to downplay it so as not to make people uncomfortable. I often wonder if I would have been so encouraged, had I been born a boy. Certainly, as I got older, I came to realise that demonstrating superior intellectual prowess made boys uneasy, and the vapid hair-tossing, giggling Beverly Hills wannabe variety of teenage girl was what I was expected to aspire to. Think more Tori Spelling than Virginia Woolfe. That, combined with the fact that I was condemned to spend my school life unfulfilled and neglected, has significantly hindered my acknowledgement and nurturing of my brainpower.
As a child, I was always told I was bright. I was a bright girl, very clever. A real bright spark. This was usually accompanied by a pat on the head or a similarly affectionate but condescending gesture. Even as a little girl, I was made to feel like a dog that had just managed to sit on command. In retrospect, it was a bit more than that. I read my first words off the side of a doll box when I was two, and by the age of five I had memorised the precise distances between the planets of the solar system. I knew what a black hole was, and how it worked. I had a reading age comparable to someone in their mid-teens by the time I started school at the age of 4 or 5. I was obsessed with dinosaurs, and knew the difference between vertebrate and invertebrate creatures. I wasn’t “bright”, I was prodigiously intelligent. I’m not saying that to be obnoxious, that is an entirely toothless statement. What I am trying to express is that I was consistently taught to undervalue and neglect my intelligence, rather than nurture it for what it was.
When I started school, I was actually made to repeat my first year because I never paid attention. The teacher seemed to be under the impression that I couldn’t keep up with the curriculum, when in fact this couldn’t have been further from the truth.
I was bored out of my skull, and on top of this I was terribly afraid of my teacher. I developed a phobia of going to school, and I was scream and cry when my mother would wake me in the mornings to bring me. Eventually, my parents entered into a deal with the school whereby I was permitted to leave class earlier than normal that year, in exchange for repeating the class. My parents were desperate – by this point I was all but clinging to their legs in the morning, and this was all that would calm me – so they agreed. The results were disastrous. This decision all but ensured that I would spend the remainder of my school career constantly ahead of the curriculum, and bored out of my tiny mind. Within two years they were bringing in extra work from higher classes, just for me to have something to do – but by then, I was socially well-adjusted so they never remedied the situation by moving my forward.
Anyway – please bear with me, for this post does actually have a point besides lamenting how bored I was as a child.
For me, going to Mensa would be the beginning of a truly new existence. One where my intelligence is acknowledged and nurtured, rather than undermined and ignored. Part of my quest for identity, now that I have left the church, is figuring out just who I am, and trying to form associations with people I have a great deal in common with. I want to seek out the company of people who have something in common with me, be it intelligence, political worldview, (non)religious affiliation, interests, or personality type. I think everybody could benefit from doing this. My intellect, to me, is a talent, no more or less to be appreciated than the ability to sing or draw well. I want to love being who I am, and that involves recognising my individual qualities, and caring for them accordingly. I would like to think that this could encourage you to do the same, because if you are reading this you can be sure that it is no more than you deserve also.
As a child, I was always told I was bright. I was a bright girl, very clever. A real bright spark. This was usually accompanied by a pat on the head or a similarly affectionate but condescending gesture. Even as a little girl, I was made to feel like a dog that had just managed to sit on command. In retrospect, it was a bit more than that. I read my first words off the side of a doll box when I was two, and by the age of five I had memorised the precise distances between the planets of the solar system. I knew what a black hole was, and how it worked. I had a reading age comparable to someone in their mid-teens by the time I started school at the age of 4 or 5. I was obsessed with dinosaurs, and knew the difference between vertebrate and invertebrate creatures. I wasn’t “bright”, I was prodigiously intelligent. I’m not saying that to be obnoxious, that is an entirely toothless statement. What I am trying to express is that I was consistently taught to undervalue and neglect my intelligence, rather than nurture it for what it was.
When I started school, I was actually made to repeat my first year because I never paid attention. The teacher seemed to be under the impression that I couldn’t keep up with the curriculum, when in fact this couldn’t have been further from the truth.
I was bored out of my skull, and on top of this I was terribly afraid of my teacher. I developed a phobia of going to school, and I was scream and cry when my mother would wake me in the mornings to bring me. Eventually, my parents entered into a deal with the school whereby I was permitted to leave class earlier than normal that year, in exchange for repeating the class. My parents were desperate – by this point I was all but clinging to their legs in the morning, and this was all that would calm me – so they agreed. The results were disastrous. This decision all but ensured that I would spend the remainder of my school career constantly ahead of the curriculum, and bored out of my tiny mind. Within two years they were bringing in extra work from higher classes, just for me to have something to do – but by then, I was socially well-adjusted so they never remedied the situation by moving my forward.
Anyway – please bear with me, for this post does actually have a point besides lamenting how bored I was as a child.
For me, going to Mensa would be the beginning of a truly new existence. One where my intelligence is acknowledged and nurtured, rather than undermined and ignored. Part of my quest for identity, now that I have left the church, is figuring out just who I am, and trying to form associations with people I have a great deal in common with. I want to seek out the company of people who have something in common with me, be it intelligence, political worldview, (non)religious affiliation, interests, or personality type. I think everybody could benefit from doing this. My intellect, to me, is a talent, no more or less to be appreciated than the ability to sing or draw well. I want to love being who I am, and that involves recognising my individual qualities, and caring for them accordingly. I would like to think that this could encourage you to do the same, because if you are reading this you can be sure that it is no more than you deserve also.
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