Some things I care about:
Antiracism and ending white supremacy
I have heard about the despicable behaviour of Sockmatician this past week. I want to say that when I first read his inital post, despite all the hard work by BIPOC and BAME in the knitting community these past six months, I did not see the problems until I read the comments. I feel ashamed of that. I did see the problems when I saw his responses, then his husband's responses, the weaponising of marginalisation and mental illness, and the awful way the situation has escalated and continues to hurt our community, culminating in an attack on a woman of colour at Yarningham yesterday. .
I have just come from a conference with an utterly inspiring talk by @meg_john_barker. A particular point that stuck with me was about dissolving binaries in the way we think about ourselves: normal/abnormal, good/bad, racist/not racist. It is harmful to think that 'good' white folks can do no harm. That a popular gay man cannot behave in a racist manner. Both racism and antiracism/allyship are actions, not judgments about our inherent nature. We can and must learn to untangle our internal bias, challenge each other to do better. I am trying and I will get it wrong. So, I hope, will you. It's better than pretending this isn't happening and not trying at all.
[content warning: I'm going to talk about sexual abuse]
Someone once left a review of my book on Amazon (2 stars), saying they liked the anorexia part, but didn't expect the sexual abuse. I have so far restrained myself from replying "neither did I!! "
I was so worried that people would find that part of my story unpalatable that I considered leaving it out. Anorexia is just easier to talk about, but abuse is more pervasive and what I experienced was at the hands of someone posing to support me in recovery. I was supposed to be getting well. It could so easily happen to others who are vulnerable and therefore I had to, and have to keep talking about it. .
For years, seventeen to be precise, I have felt ashamed and disgusted and broken by what happened. But I am at last reclaiming what was taken. .
Brighton is a hard place for me to be. It is the last place I saw him. Everywhere I turn I am afraid I will see his face, even though I know he is no longer here. The reality is that deciding I'm ready to move on does not change the physical way my body responds to the memories this place, and others, hold. But I will not let that turn me away from this lovely city, the friends that are here, and the person I am becoming. Or the beach. The beach is alright too.
This might seem a small thing, but as a little business it has been one of my big dreams... ⭐📮⭐
For 10 years I've sent parcels out into the world with a truncated version of my home address stamped on the back. Nobody weird has yet shown up at my door (not because of that, anyway!) and I've received occasional surprise parcels in return, but it has not felt right sharing that information. This year I decided it was time to invest in my very own PO box, which means I can start a mailing list without having to tell the whole world exactly where I live. More importantly though, it means I feel a little bit more proper. Part of me is still surprised, but this is really my job now! 😳😂
If you'd like to join my sparkling new mailing list to hear monthly news about podcasts, shop updates, events and other little tidbits there is a link in my profile. Thank you for your interest and support that is making this happen ❤️👆