Legalising Pepper Spray Is Not The Answer

In the wake of the killing of Ashling Murphy, Kerry TD Michael Healy-Rae has called for a debate about legalising the use of mace so that “women, in particular, would be able to defend themselves against unprovoked attacks and assaults.”

Here’s the thing: I understand suggestions like this coming from individual women. I get it. I’ve held my keys in my hands, just in case, more times than I care to remember. I know what it is like to want to feel safe while going about my daily life. 

But legalising pepper spray is not the answer. Good intentions do not necessarily equal good laws.

It stands to reason that this hypothetical legislation would only allow for the use of pepper spray in certain circumstances, so while being assaulted will women have to figure out whether now is an acceptable time to use it or risk facing criminal charges themselves? Will ‘why wasn’t she carrying pepper spray?’ be added to the long list of victim-blaming questions we are already dealing with?

Pepper spray, anti-rape alarms, nail polish that changes colour when in the presence of drugs, consent apps, and the countless other personal protection products marketed towards women individualise a systemic problem. A critical study of anti-rape technologies published in Violence Against Women by Dr Deborah White and Dr Lesley McMillan concludes that “perhaps the key limit to all such technologies is that they fail to address the root structural causes of rape and sexual assault, and to address those truly responsible for it.”

Never mind the fact that pepper spray could become another weapon for men to attack women with. 

Deputy Healy-Rae closes his statement by saying that “The very least we should do is open a real debate in making pepper spray a legal alternative for women to defend themselves in such violent situations.” 

I beg to differ. 

The very least we should do is call out misogyny and sexism when we witness them. The very least we should do is build a culture of consent. 

The very least we should do is stop telling girls that when boys are mean to them it is because they like them. The very least we should do is teach our children about bodily autonomy and consent. The very least we should do is provide our young people with comprehensive fact-based sex education. 

The very least we should do is ensure that our domestic abuse services, refuges, and rape crisis centres are properly funded. The very least we should do is fund prevention and education programmes.  

The very least we should do is tackle the causes of gender-based violence instead of, once again, placing the onus on women to protect ourselves. 

She Should Still Be Here

I attended the vigil in Tralee in honour of Ashling Murphy, who was killed in Tullamore on Wednesday. Like thousands of women around the country, I needed to show solidarity. To express my sorrow and anger. I needed community. 

I did not check who organised the vigil. I did not think it mattered. As I write, I still do not know the man’s name but I will never forget the words he spoke. He didn’t say anything I and countless other women haven’t heard before, but I was not expecting to hear them this evening. At a vigil for a woman killed by a man. 

I had not expected there to be speeches. And I certainly wasn’t prepared for a lecture on how women can protect themselves when faced with male violence. Spraying your attacker with perfume and kicking him in balls are ideas that apparently won’t have occurred to women before this evening. 

I had not intended on speaking. But I could not let this man’s words be the only ones people took away from the vigil. I stepped forward and read my Instagram post from yesterday. Ashling Murphy was going for a run, but it does not matter what she was doing because she didn't deserve to die. No woman should be killed. Ever. 

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A post shared by Paula Dennan (@pauladennan)

While this man spoke about men needing to do something about the men who perpetrate violence against women, he was not forthcoming with concrete actions men can take. Apart from talking to each other and walking the women in your lives home. Telling men to talk to each other is a start, but what does that look like in practice? 

He did, however, urge us all to write to the government calling for tougher sentencing for men who harass, abuse, assault, or kill women. More than once he talked about how things are done in America.

I hope that Ashling Murphy’s family get the answers they so desperately need. I hope they get the justice they deserve. I wish their daughter had made it home. I cannot imagine the pain they are going through. I also know that nothing the Gardaí or anyone else do can bring Ashling back. We are all holding them in our thoughts. 

As this man spoke, I almost screamed ‘she should still be here.’ True justice means no dead women. True justice means Ashling would have finished her run. We need to prevent male violence. Relying on the justice system has never been enough. Especially when the Gardaí cancel 999 calls. 

I found the community I needed. Women are far too accomplished at coming together with strangers to grief the death of women we do not know. We are heartsick. We are angry. We are exhausted.

To the men reading this, don’t tell me you understand because you have a mother, a sister, a girlfriend, a wife, or a daughter. Are our lives only worth something when you can picture us as family? 

Do not tell me that you are listening. Listening is great, but what action have you taken since the last time the news and social media were full of women sharing their experiences of being harassed, abused, and assaulted by men. As Philip O’Connor asks in the Irish Examiner when was the last time you “made a conscious decision to make a woman feel safe based on her reading of a given situation?”

Do not tell me that you have never and would never hit a woman. Do not expect to be thanked or cheered on for doing the bare minimum in being a decent human being. 

We know it is not all men. The problem is that when we do talk about the men we know have harassed, abused, or assaulted women we are not believed. The cries of ‘not all men’ quickly become ‘my mate wouldn’t do that.’ 

The problem is that far too many men, who consider themselves one of the good guys, are happy to let the sexist ‘jokes’ their friends make go unchallenged. Far too many men are prepared to say ‘he doesn’t mean it’, ‘he’s not like that’ or ‘he’s harmless really’ when their friend continues to chat up women who have already told him no. 

Do not tell me that you don’t agree with your friend’s actions after the fact if you have not also called them out as they were happening. 

Is saying nothing easier? Yes, but something being difficult is not an excuse to ignore it. Someone being your mate is not a reason to let them away with it. 

Male violence against women doesn’t happen in a vacuum. These are not isolated incidents. They are part of a pattern that starts with society normalising the dehumanisation of women through misogynistic and sexist language. 

Women have been calling for an end to sexism and misogyny for years, to no avail. It is long past men stepped up and took action. We cannot do it on our own. 

We need Government action on safe access zones, not more empty words

“As Minister for Health I am fully committed to the introduction of legislation on ‘safe access’ zones around our healthcare facilities. This commitment is in the prgramme for government.” said Health Minister Stephen Donnelly in a statement issued on Saturday afternoon. His statement was in response to an Irish Examiner article, by their Deputy Political Editor Elaine Loughlin, about the scrapping of plans to legislate for safe access zones around hospitals, family planning centres, and all healthcare facilities that provide abortion services. 

Notably absent from the Minister for Health’s statement is a timeline for when the legislation that he is “fully committed” to introducing will, in fact, be introduced. 

It does, however, include the well-worn lines “It was originally intended to provide for safe access to termination of pregnancy services in the Health (Regulation of Termination of Pregnancy) Act 2018. However, a number of legal issues were identified which necessitated further consideration.” This is something Stephen Donnelly’s predecessor Simon Harris also told us while insisting that separate legislation would be fast-tracked. 

For its part, the Department of Health stated that “there has been a limited number of reports of protests or other actions relating to termination of pregnancy” which it sees as “an extremely positive development”. How much intimidation of people seeking abortion services is acceptable to the Minister for Health and his department? At what point does “a limited number of reports of protests” warrant the legislation we were promised in 2018?

Anti-abortion protests have included groups standing outside the National Maternity Hospital with small white coffins, displaying graphic and misleading imagery outside rural community hospitals, protests each day during Lent outside Limerick Maternity Hospital, and the picketing of GP practices. Not all protests make the news, so it is safe to say that the number of these types of protests is higher than reported. Covid-19 restrictions on people gathering in groups likely also had an impact on the “limited number of reports of protests”, although it is not clear if the Department of Health had considered this when issuing their statement. 

The assertion that existing public order legislation is enough “to protect people accessing services, staff and local residents” is misguided, at best. Anyone who reported similar anti-abortion protests outside hospitals and healthcare facilities in the run-up to the referendum in 2018 will know that responses varied across the country and often depended on how willing individual gardaí were to move the protesters and their graphic imagery on. 

This is why safe access zones were deemed necessary. Not only by pro-choice campaigners but also by the current Government, who committed to establishing exclusion zones around medical facilities in the programme for government, and the previous Government who initially wanted to include safe access zones in the Health (Regulation of Termination of Pregnancy) Act. 

Yet here we are, three years later, still standing in front of the Government asking them to do their job as legislators. Is it any wonder that the minister’s most recent commitment to safe access zones rings hollow?

Together for Safety — a national campaign calling for the implementation of safe access zones, which launched earlier this year — is working with the Irish Council for Civil Liberties (ICCL) to draft legislation to introduce safe access zones around healthcare facilities so that people seeking abortion services, health care providers, all staff, and every person attending hospitals, GP clinics, and family planning centres can do so without facing protests. 

Senator Annie Hoey announced the Labour Party’s plan to publish its own legislation in September if the Government does not follow through on its commitment. 

Together for Safety are also collecting reports from people who have been affected by these protests and collaborating with Dr Camilla Fitzsimons from Maynooth University to collect information on anti-abortion protests and demonstrations from abortion service providers. 

We are once again in a position where people need to share painful personal experiences for the Government to act. A move that will not surprise anyone who has been paying attention to the provision of reproductive healthcare in Ireland.

Last weekend’s U-turn, followed by a U-turn on the U-turn, happened against the backdrop of the inconsistencies surrounding the lifting of Covid-19 related restrictions in maternity hospitals.

The issue of ownership of the land on which our new National Maternity Hospital is set to be built is still unresolved. The Sisters of Charity insist they will not be involved with the running of the hospital. Given the devastating effects that church influence has had — and continues to have — on women’s lives and people’s access to reproductive healthcare, the campaign for public ownership and public operation of the hospital is both understandable and necessary.

There has been no legislation to regulate rogue crisis pregnancy agencies.

Abortion has been available under the Health (Regulation of Termination of Pregnancy) Act since January 2019, yet just one in ten GPs and only 10 of the 19 maternity units are providing abortion services.

There are no abortion providers in Sligo, with Sligo Action for Reproductive Rights Access (SARRA) saying that “A policy by the HSE of passively waiting for local GPs to step up to the plate has failed. GPs need support, resources, and training from the HSE.”

People who receive a diagnosis of a fatal or severe foetal anomaly are still forced to leave the country to have a termination for medical reasons. 

The legislation is scheduled for review, a process that allows us to make much-needed improvements to the law. Telemedicine for abortion must be kept in place once the Covid-19 pandemic measures end. We must remove the medically unnecessary mandatory three-day waiting period. We must increase the number of abortion providers so that abortion is available in every county and all our maternity units. Doctors must have all the supports and training they need to achieve this. We must remove arbitrary gestational limits because too many people are failed by our legislation. 

The legislative review must be fully independent and more than a box-ticking exercise. As with safe access zones, we need a clear timeline of when this will happen. Empty words are not enough. We need Government action. 

Abortion services must be free, safe, legal, and accessible locally for everyone who wants or needs them. This includes people being able to attend their appointments without having to deal with anti-abortion protests on their way to the door. 

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I Miss The Ritual Of Writing In Cafés

I write best when I’m surrounded by noise. The background hum of a coffee shop. An audiobook or podcast playing. Listening to music. I have been known to write, while curled up on the couch, with the Food Network on. 

By best I mean that I actually get words on the screen. The noise drowns out the inner monologue telling me that I can’t write today because there are other, not at all important, tasks which must be done immediately. Procrastination is my default setting.

In The Art of Slow Writing, Louise DeSalvo recommends that her students write somewhere other than their homes. At least some of the time. From her own experience, writing in a coffee shop or in a library meant the writing “didn’t seem as scary as it did at home.”

I had a similar realisation last year. I dedicated one day a week to writing somewhere other than my kitchen table. The results of this were twofold; I wrote more in the space of a few weeks than I had in the previous two years combined, and I finally figured out what it was that I had been struggling to write during that time. My motto became; have plan, will write! 

In giving myself a set time to write my unstructured collection of words, which were saved in multiple places, began to take shape. It wasn’t a memoir. They weren’t quite essays, though this is what they became. Slowly, but with more focus than before. 

Ordering coffee, as I check whether my favourite table is available, marks the beginning of a writing session. The table is tucked away in the corner, so it’s perfect for people watching without the risk of overstepping people’s boundaries. It is also beside the plug sockets. 

The words need to be written now because I won’t have time solely for writing until the next week. This self-imposed deadline gives me a reason to hold myself accountable. The hours pass, with life happening around me, and less procrastination options than I have at home.

Writing during lockdown has been as much about finding new rituals as it has been about racking up the word count. When I moved in with my parents-in-law back in March, because we were all cocooning and P’s job meant I couldn’t do so safely as home, I commandeered their kitchen table. 

Writing in short bursts, more frequently, replaced once a week writing marathons. The urge to procrastinate remained, but because I couldn’t go further than the garden the possibilities for distraction were limited. The essays and stories still came together, just differently. 

Since moving home, I’ve set up an office in the spare room. In the grand scheme of 2020, when so much has changed for so many people, it feels nice to find routine again. 

Audiobooks and podcasts have replaced the sounds of the coffee shop. I am not quite at the stage of trying to recreate the coffee shop vibes at home. But I am also not not at this stage. 

In her recent essay for Literary Hub, Emily Temple asks Is This the End of Writing in Cafés? and explores the impact of and romance surrounding writing in public on our literary history. There is an element of performance about writing in a café. Of being a capital W Writer, as distinct from being an aspiring writer. Until you realise that writing makes you a writer, with no aspiring necessary. 

Much of my writing from the last few months has been about craving routine, bringing ritual into our day-to-day lives, and slowing down. Which, I think, makes it apt that I've had to build a new writing routine. 

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A Life Lived Online — And Why It Is Time To Log Off

“5 min of screen time left for Twitter.” 

The notification flashes on the screen, as it does every morning. My pattern of uninstalling and reinstalling the app is clearly in the reinstalling phase, so I figured limiting the amount of time I spend scrolling was a good compromise. After 15 minutes, my phone locks out. 

This isn’t the first time I’ve limited my social media usage. In a previous life, I deleted my Twitter account completely. I lasted four months before the lure of politics and activism drew me back in. 

Back then, I say as if it were decades ago and not 2011-2014, constructive conversations about politics were possible. Questions were taken at face value and answers were given in the spirit of meeting people where they were at. 

The activism one-upmanship, that seeped into my timeline over the years, hadn’t started yet. 

Every so often tweets cross my timeline insisting that discussing politics on Twitter has never genuinely changed a person’s mind, so we shouldn’t bother. I laugh as I scroll on by and think of another all too familiar tweet that asks “what radicalised you?”. 

Twitter is what radicalised me, which means that it also drastically changed my mind about lots of things. 

I know this is down to the people I followed and interacted with, but I wouldn’t have met those people elsewhere. 

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Recently, author and podcaster Emma Gannon wrote about some of the reasons Millennials are logging off and asked whether it is “fair to call an offline childhood a ‘real one’ and a digital one a ‘wasted one?”

I’m an older Millennial, so my childhood was offline. I was in college before the Internet became a regular part of my life. I preferred sending essay length emails over MSN. I was out of college before Bebo and MySpace launched, so they didn’t catch my attention. 

One of the biggest concerns about Gen Z is that everything they do is online, including their mistakes. We say; I’m so glad Facebook and Twitter weren’t around during my teenage years. Feck knows what nonsense I would have shared. I definitely would have been cancelled. Probably more than once. 

I have said these things. Yet almost all of the mistakes I made in the latter half of my 20s happened under the watchful eye of social media. 

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My Facebook memories are broken into two categories; activism and a trip through the mind of a manic depressive who didn’t know she was hypomanic at the time. 

The latter is responsible for vaguebooking, quotes from TV shows and films that my insomnia fueled nights were filled with and lots of venting about talk radio—which is apparently how I spent my days recovering from sleep deprivation.

I can post multiple times a day and then forget about Facebook for months. It is where I go when I am avoiding Twitter, which was a lot during the vaguebooking days of 2012-2013. 

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When I want to understand something I read about it, which is why my Kindle is full of books decrying social media as the worst.

Ten Arguments for Deleting Your Social Media Accounts by Jaron Lanier, a computer scientist, makes the case that in order for social media companies to really change we need to stop using them altogether. We must delete our accounts. All of us. Lanier argues that nothing else will lead to the fundamental changes necessary for social media to be anything other than the disaster it currently is.

Why Social Media is Ruining Your Life by author and speaker Katherine Ormerod looks at the negative impact social media has on everything from our mental health to our career, and even our experiences of motherhood. 

Social media as an entity is a problem. The Internet as a whole does not have to be. 

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When I joined Instagram in 2014, the era of the blurry images of nights out was already well on its way to being something no one would dream of doing. The photos were still there, but people were beginning to apologise for them in their captions.

I was blogging about beauty, so a photo based app felt like something I should be using. Even then, this feeling of should was nothing new. When the people you interact with on one platform move to another it makes sense to follow them. 

Or it did. I am more than happy to sit out whatever the next big social network is. 

My photo sharing tendencies lasted longer than my beauty blogging days. Tweeting snippets of my day became sharing photos of my day because none of us put as much planning into social media as we do now. 

We didn’t consider whether what we were sharing fit in with our personal brand. We didn’t realise we had or should have a personal brand. 

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In her 2018 essay, A Meditation on Personal Branding, Truth, & Our Digital Selves, poet, essayist and editor Lisa Marie Basile explores how we choose to portray ourselves online. 

Basile questions what it means to have followers or to be considered an influencer. When social media insists we slot ourselves neatly into the boxes, so that people know what to expect when they scroll through our timelines, how can we authentically share our lives? 

Social media can never show you all of a person. We pick and choose what we share. We know this about ourselves, yet forget when it comes to others. We envy people’s lives based on their highlight reel. 

When we do share aspects of our lives that aren’t picture perfect, we often do so after the fact. We curate even this. We package it for the consumption of others. 

This is what social media is about, after all. 

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I met P on Twitter. 

It will always hold a special place in my heart, even if the time I spend doom scrolling every morning makes me want to throw my phone across the room. 

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We Need To Include Bipolar Disorder In Our Mental Health Campaigns

My social media timelines regularly feature people talking about mental health issues and the importance of ensuring stigma does not prevent people from seeking treatment. Yet the last few weeks have seen a change in tone around how mental health is being discussed. Specifically bipolar disorder in relation to Kanye West. 

I am not a mental health professional, so this is not an article about Kanye West’s diagnosis. I suggest everyone read Kim Kardashian’s statement about caring for a loved one during an active bipolar episode and asking that they be given “the compassion and empathy that is needed to get through this.”

We have been here before. Bipolar disorder makes headlines when celebrities experience episodes of mania or hypomania in public, only to be brushed back under the carpet when the news cycle moves on. How much understanding this type of coverage really gives people is open to interpretation. 

Bipolar I disorder consists of episodes of depression and mania. Bipolar II disorder is characterised by episodes of depression and hypomania. There is also cyclothymia, which is described as a mood disorder similar to bipolar disorder where episodes of depression and hypomania or mania are present but the severity or intensity of the symptoms do not fully meet the diagnostic criteria for either bipolar I disorder or bipolar II disorder. 

Bipolar disorder affects approximately one in 50 people in Ireland. With an estimated 46 million people being diagnosed globally. There is a significant chance that you know someone living with the mental disorder, but they may not be open about their diagnosis. 

I am one of these people. I was diagnosed with bipolar II disorder in 2016. As I wrote at the time, “it was the least unexpected diagnosis I’ve ever received” but that didn’t prevent me from feeling the effects of stigma—both internal and external. 

I had seen lots of mental health campaigns say that it was alright to have depression or anxiety. Yet mental disorders beyond these remain in the shadows because they are rarely included in awareness and destigmatising campaigns. 

When I wrote about this disparity in the run up to World Mental Health Day last year, I wondered whether we shied away from bipolar disorder, schizophrenia and other psychiatric illnesses because they are harder to package into serious yet upbeat interviews or feature articles. Which is often how stories of depression and anxiety are presented. 

We hear people’s stories after the fact and almost always from a place of wellness. Or recovery is used as a synonym for cured, when in the context of mental health they are not the same thing. For many of us recovery means a stable mood, with no active symptoms, but the underlying mental health condition is still there. It can be managed, but it doesn’t disappear. Recovery is an ongoing process that takes work. 

This framing allows us to think we have moved on from the damaging views of the past. But have we really? Our responses to people in the public eye who relapse indicate otherwise. We are still quick to see them as having failed. We are still quick to crack “jokes” about their madness. We are still quick to assume that no one we know would ever act that way. 

Here’s the thing: having a mental illness is not an excuse for someone’s actions, but it can be an explanation. 

Symptoms of hypomania and mania can include risky behaviour such as spending large sums of money or seeking sexual gratification with people that you shouldn’t as a result of hypersexuality. These things happen while the person is actively ill, but when their mood stabilises they must deal with the consequences of their actions. Be that confronting the debt they have incurred or attempting to rebuild relationships that were damaged by their sexual encounters during this time.

The explanation does not negate the consequences. In fact, one of the most important parts of recovery in cases like these is facing up to the things you have said or done during an active bipolar episode. All while remembering that no one in your life owes you acceptance of your apology or forgiveness. 

It is possible that the damage done may be too great to overcome. But it needs to be dealt with either way.

Bipolar disorder can be messy. And it can recur. People can do everything right—medication, therapy, practising self-care, getting enough sleep and accessing community care—and be stable for years only to relapse. 

Bipolar disorder doesn’t fit neatly into a “I was sick and now I am not” narrative. Which is exactly why we need to talk about it. 

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Our Rights Should Never Have Been Put To A Public Vote

May is a month full of memories. 

Instagram reminds me of the opinion piece I wrote for the local newspaper. Facebook shows me the final batch of leaflets and badges that arrived at the last minute, the day before the vote. Twitter is full of other people’s campaign stories and trips down memory lane. Five years since we legalised same-sex marriage. Two years since we repealed the Eighth Amendment. 

I am proud of all that we achieved. I am relieved that both referendums were passed. I am also dealing with residual anger. I have slowly accepted that this anger will always be there. It has lessened as much as it can, now I must adjust to it reappearing each May. 

Anger may seem like a strange response, this many years on. Except it isn’t, because the memories and celebrations are for campaigns which saw the rights of LGBTQ+ people and people who can become pregnant put to public votes. People knocked on strangers' doors asking to be granted human rights. 

Newspapers, talk radio and current affairs programmes on TV were full of people claiming that marriage was actually about children, not the adults getting married. That LGBTQ+ couples were incapable of raising children without completely destroying both the institution of marriage and their children’s lives. A few years later, many of those same people were back in the media declaring with absolute certainty that women should have no control over their reproductive choices. That all pregnancies must be continued regardless of the pregnant person’s circumstances. 

When people called these beliefs what they are—homophobic and misogynistic—they were told to sit down, be quiet and if you must speak definitely don’t be shrill. We were told that people had a right to have their views heard, as objectionable as they were. Yet the simple act of calling them objectionable somehow made both sides as bad as each other. 

Day after day, for months leading up to the votes, the lived experiences of LGBTQ+ people and women were open for debate. All in the name of balance. We asked people to share their most personal stories, with little thought for the aftermath. We expected people to lay themselves bare in the hope of changing other people’s minds. Or making people who weren’t particularly bothered about voting—despite supporting a Yes vote—realise that turning up at their polling station was, in fact, important. 

I am not the only canvasser who heard people say that listening to the families from Terminations for Medical Reasons or reading the In Her Shoes Facebook page helped them fully understand why the Eighth Amendment needed to be repealed. It was hearing similar experiences that made me pro-choice in the years before the referendum. 

I lost count of how many times someone told me during the marriage referendum that hearing LGBTQ+ people on the radio or being interviewed in a newspaper made them realise gay and lesbian people were “just like the rest of us, so why shouldn’t they get married?”

Sharing these stories had a huge positive impact on both campaigns, but at what cost? Behind every story was a person or a family who were subjected to, and in many cases they continue to face, untold amounts of verbal, online and sometimes physical abuse as a result of campaigning so publicly. 

We talk a lot about the debt we owe people who shared their stories. We know it is a debt we can never repay. But how can we understand the lasting effects of being so open during either campaign? 

I am still recovering from being a spokesperson for a rural pro-choice group. I did not have a personal story to tell, but my slightly higher profile meant that anti-choicers took to messaging me personally when their abusive comments, misleading nonsense and outright lies were deleted from Kerry for Choice’s public pages. This was small scale, but it’s something I won’t forget.

The majority of my experiences during both referendums may have been positive, but that doesn’t negate the fact that asking strangers to vote for your equality is demeaning.

I would knock on doors again in a heartbeat, but we should not have to. Our lives and our rights should never have been put to a public vote. 

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Covid-19: You Know More Immunocompromised People Than You Think

Gardai removed people from Banna Beach last weekend due to concerns about the lack of social distancing. There were similar crowds in public places across the country, resulting in some county councils renewing their calls for people to stay away from public parks and other spaces in large groups.

We are all adjusting to the restrictions needed in order to stop the spread of Covid-19. While it is important and recommended by the HSE that we continue to exercise regularly, including going for walks with family or friends, keeping a space of two meters between you and other people is vital.

We know that certain groups of people are more at risk of experiencing severe symptoms if they get Covid-19. These include people over 60, people who have a pre-existing condition – such as heart disease, lung disease, diabetes, cancer and high blood pressure – and people who are immunocompromised, meaning their immune systems are weaker than normal.

12 Thought-Provoking Articles From 2019

Once upon a time I shared weekly round-ups of articles, blog posts and stuff from the internet that caught my attention. While I no longer do this, for the last few years I have shared the articles that impacted me most throughout the year. This year is no different.

Less but not lesser

I’m getting comfortable with being idle and not feeling guilty about it. I am coming to terms with the fact that I don’t owe anyone my time. - Less but not lesser

I think most of us can relate to Siún Ní Dhuinn’s gorgeous words about learning to do less in a culture obsessed with productivity and the cult of busyness.

The Currency of Tears

When my sons cry, I hold them and say, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, when really I should say, cry, cry, cry, or I should just hold them and say nothing. I save all their teeth, but I don’t save their tears. It’s been zero days since someone in my house didn’t cry. - The Currency of Tears

Sabrina Orah Mark’s essay about tears, motherhood, grief and fairytales made me cry, which I think is a fitting tribute.

The Age of Bathfluence

Baths are simple, but, in my experience, their effects can be profound. No matter if you bathe au natural or turn your water into a bouillabaisse, unplug or don’t, what makes a bath worthwhile are the small efforts that go into it. - The Age of Bathfluence

I love taking long baths and am as guilty as the next person of Instagraming my bath bombs, so this article by Rachel Syme was a joy to read.

There Is No Cure For Burnout

When you’re burned out, it can be impossible to think beyond the shit next up on your to-do list. There is just so much to do, and doing those things is hard, and wanting to write the next great American novel or dig yourself out of debt or start a new business seems almost absurd. - There Is No Cure For Burnout

2019 was the year burnout went mainstream. Mostly with bullshit articles about how to optimise your day to overcome your burnout. Ella Dawson’s essay makes the point that burnout is inevitable for most people and it has no real cure.

The Fraught Culture of Online Mourning

Tweeting about my mother’s death, and posting photos of her on Instagram, became my own imperfect Victorian mourning ritual, a process through which I took public stock of my grief and asked — still ask — others to bear witness. - The Fraught Culture of Online Mourning

I’ve spent much of this year learning how to grieve. I say learning because, well, everything I thought understood about grief proved wrong following my dad’s death. One of the things no one tells you is how to tell the internet your loved one is dead. Many people would argue that you don’t need to tell the internet, but when you spend so much of your time online it feels weird to carry on posting as if nothing is wrong.

How Millennials Became The Burnout Generation

Burnout and the behaviors and weight that accompany it aren’t, in fact, something we can cure by going on vacation. It’s not limited to workers in acutely high-stress environments. And it’s not a temporary affliction: It’s the millennial condition. It’s our base temperature. It’s our background music. It’s the way things are. It’s our lives. - How Millennials Became The Burnout Generation

Anne Helen Petersen’s article about millennial burnout was everywhere when it was published in January and it is easy to see why. For people who already knew they were suffering from burnout it emphasised that they weren’t alone. For people who were experiencing the issues mentioned in the article who may not have realised it was burnout it served as a starting point for better understanding what they were going through.

‘I thank grief for showing me just how much I loved my mum’

As I manage the pain, the grief and slow recovery, I’ll find my way.

It’s only right to suffer because I loved her that much.

I really did and I thank grief for showing me just how much. Grief and I are besties now and we must learn to respect each other and give each other space to grow.

And I’ll be okay, in time.

Not because I am brave but because I don’t have a choice. - ‘I thank grief for showing me just how much I loved my mum’

I read a lot of articles about grief this year and this essay by Emma Hayes is one I’ve reread many times since its publication.

I’m in a Heterosexual Marriage. Do I Need to Come Out as Queer?

When we come out to ourselves and to others, we’re doing a lot more than announcing sexual preferences or what have you. We are communicating the geometry of our souls as we understand it, giving others the opportunity to see us for who we are in a more complete way as only language can do—not just with words, but nonverbally as well. - I’m in a Heterosexual Marriage. Do I Need to Come Out as Queer?

This answer to a reader’s question about realising they are queer while in a monogomous straight marriage and wondering whether they should come out to people other than their spouse and close friends is full of empathy.

I had a mental health crisis and people did not know how to respond

I felt like I was visibly drowning in a room full of people, screaming for help while they looked on, doing nothing, but saying “That looks very difficult. I support you” – and having the world tell them that they were excellent friends, they were mental health allies, they were Being Supportive. - I had a mental health crisis and people did not know how to respond

When I wrote about the conversations we are not having about mental illness for my newsletter back in October, I mentioned how ill equipped we are to handle the types of mental illnesses that result in relapses. We need more than platitudes. Our education around mental health must encompass everything, not simply 'exercise and you’ll feel better.”

How to Explore Your Queerness When You Have a Straight Partner

A journey into one’s queerness doesn’t have to involve sex outside of the relationship, or even sex in general. Just noticing that you’re attracted to other genders can be the extent of this exploration. The act of coming out to yourself, or maybe saying, “I’m bi. I don’t know what that looks like yet, and that’s OK,” has the potential to be extremely affirming. - How to Explore Your Queerness When You Have a Straight Partner

This is a great article about realising that you are bisexual, pansexual or otherwise non-monosexual while being in a relationship with a straight person and how to navigate your newfound queerness.

The internet made trans people visible. It also left them more vulnerable.

In the meantime, the internet is now the battleground on which we fight — against hate, against intolerance, against disinformation. But mostly, we fight for the right to exist in our own bodies. - The internet made trans people visible. It also left them more vulnerable.

Katelyn Burns on the impact the internet has had for trans people, both in terms of positive visibility and the rise of transphobia.

The 27th Amendment Of The Constitution Has Been A Grievous Mistake

As our British cousins race to apply for their Irish passports to unlock the benefits of EU citizenship that their body politic seems hell-bent on firebombing, we are reminded that a core tenet of human civilisation is being breached on this island. That is, the eternal truth that you should always belong in the land you were born to. - The 27th Amendment Of The Constitution Has Been A Grievous Mistake

Dean Van Nguyen on why we need to repeal the 27th amendment to the Irish constitution.

12 Thought-Provoking Articles From 2018

In a previous blogging life, I did weekly round-ups of articles, blog posts and stuff from the internet that caught my attention. While I grew tired of that particular blog post format, I do still enjoy sharing those things on Twitter (follow me here, if that sounds like something you’ll enjoy!). For the last couple of years I have shared the articles, from the previous year, that had the biggest impact on me. This is year no different.

Some of these articles stayed with me because I agree with them wholeheartedly. Some made me think about things differently. Many made me realise that I need to do better especially with anti-racism work. They’ve helped me understand the world a little better or challenged my views on certain issues, in the way that great writing so often does.

What Is A Woman Worth?

The thing about addressing misogyny is that it’s like unspooling a tangle of 1,001 different threads. It’s complicated and unclear and systemic and anything other than linear. And it touches everything. – What Is A Woman Worth?

Beyond Strange Bedfellows

Sex work, the directive argued, was not only the sole factor responsible for driving trafficking, but opposing it—in any form—was necessary for a “comprehensive attack” on trafficking. – Beyond Strange Bedfellows

On how supposedly pro-woman language was co-opted in an effort to unite the left and the right in the “war on trafficking” and the conflation of all sex work with human trafficking.

Comfortable Allies are not Allies

Being a comfortable ally is about getting cookies and kudos and although it’s awesome that I can count on you not to spit on me in the streets, what I really need, what we all really need are people who are dismantling the system that make bigots feel safe to spit on people in the streets in the first place. We need people who are using their privilege to take down the culture that supports this, even at the risk to their own comfort because they value liberation for all over comfort for them. – Comfortable Allies are not Allies

On why simply saying you are an ally to people of colour isn’t enough. We, as white people, need to walk the walk.

When Feminism Is White Supremacy in Heels

If there is not the intentional and action-based inclusion of women of color, then feminism is simply white supremacy in heels. – When Feminism Is White Supremacy in Heels

On why feminism needs to be 100% intersectional and why paying lip service to intersectionality is not enough.

Why we should all strive to be feminist killjoys

But feminists. We make people very uncomfortable. To be a feminist is to refuse to adhere to convention. To be a feminist is to highlight that many people’s comfort has been built on the oppression of others. To be a feminist is to disturb the fantasy that the world is fine as it is, despite its glaring inequalities. To be a feminist is to challenge people to look more closely, listen more carefully, and work harder so that everyone has the chance to be happy, not just a privileged few. – Why we should all strive to be feminist killjoys

A Meditation on Personal Branding, Truth, and Our Digital Selves

The trick must be to lean into the wilderness of it with the best intentions, I think. To recognize, like in real life, that we can’t be or do everything perfectly all at once. That it’s okay to not always add up or be on. To not always be palatable or perfect. To just exist. – A Meditation on Personal Branding, Truth, and Our Digital Selves

I’ve legit read this essay, about how we choose to portray ourselves online, about once a week since it was published. So much to think about, so many chords struck and I’m no closer to reaching an answer to the social media related questions I ask myself. I guess, in keeping with my theme for 2019, my social media feeds are still a work in process.

I had to quit my hospital job when I resented patients who got better

Before, when I’d experienced strain in my personal life work had been a welcome distraction, but now every day I’d re-live the trauma of mum receiving her diagnosis. I was trapped in a bad dream I couldn’t wake up from. – I had to quit my hospital job when I resented patients who got better

This is an experience that can’t have been easy for Catherine Renton to share, but I am so glad she chose to.

All I want for Christmas is equality of representation and opportunity

People underrepresented in the glitz of awards are continuously overrepresented in low-to-mid level positions, ‘menial’ labour, or in ‘free’ labour at a cost to health, time and personal resources, such as non-profit activism. What is harder for a white woman with connections compared to a white man, is harder yet for a LGBTQ+ and/or disabled and/or woman of colour without them. – All I want for Christmas is equality of representation and opportunity

We, white women, need to do better by people of colour. Particularly when it comes to the women of colour we organise alongside and then write out of the official narratives of our activism. If you’re noticing a theme in some of these articles, that’s because there is one. White supremacy should have no place in our social justice movements, yet it does and we, as white people, need to do the work of dismantling it.

For most people recovery will be a series of false starts and empty promises

When we decide that we want to recover, and we fall at the first hurdle, we feel as if we have failed. If we had more will power, if we were stronger, better people, then we would have stayed clean. It becomes harder for the people around us to keep the faith each time that we relapse and re-enter the cycle of recovery. – For most people recovery will be a series of false starts and empty promises

Recovery isn’t linear and when we treat it as such we put pressure on people to get it “right” first time.

Take You Me For a Sponge?: How My Marriage Survived Illness and Caregiving

That’s the good thing about both sponges and marriages: They’re both absorbent and, if tended, resilient. However hard you squeeze, if you realize what you’re doing and let go, they regain their form. – Take You Me For a Sponge?: How My Marriage Survived Illness and Caregiving

This is a gorgeous essay on love, marriage, illness, and caregiving.

‘My wife has a quirky cancer, she is informed. There’s nothing the specialist can do’

People show you pictures of happy times that you can never quite place. This gives you solace. So many happy times, that you’ve forgotten half of them. – ‘My wife has a quirky cancer, she is informed. There’s nothing the specialist can do’

This essay is as devastatingly beautiful as everyone says it is. Read it, it’s worth your time, but know that it will likely result in tears streaming down your face.

“Who Gets To Live In Victimville?”: Why I Participated In A New Docuseries on The Clinton Affair

So, what feels more important to me than whether I am owed or deserving of a personal apology is my belief that Bill Clinton should want to apologize. I’m less disappointed byhim, and more disappointed for him. He would be a better man for it . . . and we, in turn, a better society. – “Who Gets To Live In Victimville?”: Why I Participated In A New Docuseries on The Clinton Affair

The Eighth Amendment Is Gone, But The Misogyny Remains

“You could mansplain in person, perhaps. Tip around to everyone’s house and have a chat,” Kate O’Connell quipped to Peadar Tóibín during the third and final day of the Select Committee on Health deliberation on the Health (Regulation of Termination of Pregnancy) Bill. The Fine Gael TD had effectively summed up the tone of the amendments brought forward by ten anti-abortion TDs. With the committee stage over the Bill now heads to the report stage and we are one step closer to abortion being more widely available in Ireland.

Of the 180 amendments tabled, both pro-choice and anti-abortion, only one was accepted. This was expected, but for anti-abortion TDs the point wasn’t to get their amendments passed. It was to spend their speaking time rehashing issues that the electorate rejected by voting in favour of repealing the Eighth Amendment on May 25th.

#8thRef – I’ve voted, have you?

My Yes is for those who laid themselves bare by telling their stories. We owe you so much and we’ll never be able to repay your bravery.

My Yes is for those who haven’t shared their experiences and maybe never will.

My Yes is for those who travelled, those who took pills at home, and for those who could do neither of those things.

My Yes is for those who fought against the amendment in ’83 and have been fighting ever since to have it repealed.

My Yes is for those who remained strong when people (including myself circa 2013) said you were asking for too much.

My Yes is for those who answered my questions with kindness. You welcomed me with open arms when I finally joined the fight.

My Yes is for those who have made Ireland their home, but who cannot vote to change the law that affects them.

My Yes is for those in the north because while we deal with different laws, it is the same fight. For everything you’ve done to support us, know that we have your back and will march beside you for as long as it takes. Bring on the Rally for Choice!

We still have work to do, we know that, but look how far we’ve come. Look what we’ve achieved.

#8thRef – the importance of conversations

We talk a lot about having conversations with regards to the upcoming referendum to remove the Eighth Amendment from the Constitution. We talk a lot about having conversations because we understand how important those conversations are. Speaking to people, be they family, friends or colleagues, listening to their concerns and discussing the wide-ranging impact the Eighth Amendment has on the lives of pregnant people in Ireland is crucial in the run up to May 25th. A few years ago, conversations like these changed my thinking and helped me fully understand the implications of the Eighth Amendment and why we must repeal it.

For years I didn’t really consider the issue of abortion at all, but when it came up in conversation or via the news I struggled to explain how I felt about it. I could understand where both sides were coming from, which in many ways can be a good thing. When it comes to the issue of abortion though, it can leave you feeling adrift.

I could never imagine forcing a woman who becomes pregnant as a result of rape to remain pregnant against her wishes. I could never imagine forcing a woman and her partner who receive a diagnosis of a fatal foetal anomaly to continue with that pregnancy against their wishes, as they wait for their much wanted baby to die. I didn’t realise that this was, and is, what happens every day in Ireland with the Eighth Amendment in place. I thought Ireland was a place that cared for pregnant women in those moments, times when they need it most, but I was wrong.

Doctors are unable to help pregnant people who find themselves in these tragic circumstances because their hands are tied by the words we inserted into our Constitution 35 years ago; “The State acknowledges the right to life of the unborn and, with due regard to the equal right to life of the mother, guarantees in its laws to respect, and, as far as is practicable, by its laws to defend and vindicate that right.” These words are responsible for untold damage and heartache to women and their families across the country. There is no corner of Ireland that is untouched by the Eighth Amendment.

Once I began really thinking about the issue, it was difficult to stop. I asked questions. I listened to the answers. I listened to the experiences of women who bravely shared their stories. The more I listened, the more I realised that our abortion laws need to change and in order for that to happen the Eighth Amendment cannot remain.

The more I listened, the more I understood that the Eighth Amendment is failing women and girls. Miss X. Savita Halappanavar. Ms Y. Amanda Mellet. The pregnant woman kept on life support for 24 days, against the wishes of her family, after she was declared brain-dead. The women who travel daily to access the abortion care they need abroad. The women who order abortion pills online, risking a 14 year prison sentence in the process. These are not faceless women; they are our mothers, our sisters, our daughters and granddaughters, our friends, our partners, our girlfriends and our wives.

The more I listened, the more I realised that I needed to pay those conversations forward. I got involved in the campaign to repeal the Eighth Amendment because after everything I had learned I could no longer sit by and do nothing.

If you’ve been putting off having a conversation with family or friends about why you’re voting Yes, now is the time to bring it up. Your conversation could be the one that secures their Yes vote.

A version of this article first appeared in the letters page of The Kerryman on Wednesday, May 16th

12 Thought-Provoking Articles From 2017

I love discovering new writers and re-visiting old favourites. I’m grateful to authors, bloggers, columnists, journalists, and writers for putting pen to paper, so to speak, and sharing their work.

To mark the New Year, here are 12 thought-provoking articles from 2017. These articles all resonated with me, in some way, and I find myself returning to them frequently. They’ve helped me understand the world a little better. They’ve challenged my views on certain issues. They’ve helped me come to terms with things in my own life. They’ve reminded me of the importance of words and the power of telling our stories.

What Bullets Do To Bodies

Eighty percent of people who are shot in Philadelphia survive their injuries. This statistic surprises people when they hear it. They tend to think that when people get shot in the belly or the chest or the face, they die. But the reality is that people get shot and then they are going to survive, because trauma surgeons are going to save them, and that’s when the real suffering begins. – What Bullets Do To Bodies

Portrait of a Pre-Existing Condition

Now, men in suits are pressing knives to my seams, making decisions about my body. They want me to pay for my scars. They want me to pay for being a woman. I am told my body is a body of burden. I am a pre-existing condition—because I have survived a heart defect and girlhood. This working body, my body, remains threatened. I still owe a debt for this existence. – Portrait of a Pre-Existing Condition

This essay, about health, healthcare and being in control of your own body especially when you’re a woman, is something I’ve re-read numerous times.

Rebecca Solnit: The Loneliness of Donald Trump

We gain awareness of ourselves and others from setbacks and difficulties; we get used to a world that is not always about us; and those who do not have to cope with that are brittle, weak, unable to endure contradiction, convinced of the necessity of always having one’s own way.  – Rebecca Solnit: The Loneliness of Donald Trump

Because sometimes, just sometimes, only the words of Rebecca Solnit will do.

‘We didn’t recognise that he was dangerous’: our father killed our mother and sister

“We thought, ‘Well, he’s not drunk and beating us every weekend, we’re not failing at school, we don’t have behavioural problems.’ Those were the signs I was looking for,” Luke says. “And because it hadn’t happened, we didn’t recognise our suffering, or that he was dangerous. From the outside, we were three healthy, intelligent children. No one seemed concerned that much was wrong, because we were doing so well.” – ‘We didn’t recognise that he was dangerous’: our father killed our mother and sister

How an Activism Group Text Is Helping Me Stay Accountable

Listen, activism is a slog. Day in, day out — and bad stuff still happens. So don’t be afraid to let loose, tell jokes, and laugh with each other… before getting back to the hard work. The more fun you can make your activism, the longer you can keep going, and the more energy you’ll have left for dealing with people who aren’t as supportive. We’re in this for the long haul, so settle in and send a few GIFs. Then get to work. – How an Activism Group Text Is Helping Me Stay Accountable

Activism can be hard. Throwing yourself eagerly into something, only to realise that it’s going to be a tough slog can be disheartening. So, I can understand why you might not want to do it. The other side of that is that there are not enough people doing the things that need to be done. This article is full of tips on getting your friends involved and keeping each other accountable for getting things done.

What I’ve learnt running a pro-choice stall in Belfast every week

While working on the stall means I’m faced with the stark reality of people’s prejudice and ignorance about the issue, I’m heartened every week by the increase in engagement. The majority of interactions are positive: people thanking us for being out, old ladies giving a thumbs up across the street with a big smile, and women lifting piles of the leaflets and postcards to bring to their family and work. – What I’ve learnt running a pro-choice stall in Belfast every week 

Whenever we do a Kerry For Choice stall, I’m always struck by how many people are pleased to see a pro-choice presence in the county and can’t wait to sign our petition and/or get some badges. Sure we’ve had some anti-choicers but they usually wander off, after they’ve said their piece, without too much hassle and we’ve had no major trouble so far.

Why is hyperfemininity expected of fat women?

There’s nothing wrong with femininity. What we need to get rid of is the simultaneous denial and demanding of it that fat women face daily. Like ‘womanhood,’ our femininity is our own to define or to reject entirely. – Why is hyperfemininity expected of fat women?

This is one of those articles that gets under your skin, dislodges many thoughts from your brain and leads to a ‘light bulb’ moment when you start to see things differently.

unruly bodies, unruly lives

sometimes, we mete out horrible damage, and, sometimes, we do that willfully and intentionally. other times, we try to soothe and to comfort, try to do good, to be positive forces, but, sometimes, that doesn’t succeed and we end up doing harm instead. sometimes, though, we do succeed, and we do provide some healing, some warmth. we just never know. – unruly bodies, unruly lives

When is a book review not just a book review? When is writing about skincare not just writing about skincare? When they’re combined to form this glorious essay about Hunger by Roxane Gay, skincare, body image and how we take care, or don’t take care, after ourselves.

Abortion on demand and without apology

But if you must continue to object to the phrase, for god’s sake do it in a way that doesn’t insult the legacy of past generations of activists. Their struggle for abortion on demand was not awful or stupid or nonsense. It paved the way for where we are today – on the cusp of liberalising one of the Global North’s last black spots for reproductive rights – and though we need not follow their exact footsteps, we owe them at least the courtesy of acknowledging the path they took. – Abortion on demand and without apology

The phrase “abortion on demand” comes up for discussion a lot. This is a brilliant piece on its origins and why it’s what we should be fighting for, even if we don’t use it was a slogan. Pro: Reclaiming Abortion Rights by Katha Pollitt is worth reading on this as well, it completely changed my thinking about the phrase and reminded me of its pro-choice roots.

Harvey Weinstein and What Happens Next

Across industries, there are still men so powerful, they seem untouchable. Feminist gains have only amplified this disconnect: women are told that the playing field is fair, so when men behave badly and everyone seems to know about it, it’s not just hard to rock the boat–it’s hard to know there’s a boat that needs rocking. – Harvey Weinstein and What Happens Next

This is a great piece, by Jill Filipovic, about Harvey Weinstein and what happens next. The last paragraph is particularly brilliant.

How to enjoy sex if antidepressants have killed your libido

Repeat this as often as necessary, because it’s a very important point. You’re not defective. You’re not broken. You’re treating a very common illness and the treatment is causing some very common side effects. That’s all that’s happening here. And you’re also not alone. So many couples go through this. It’s easy to imagine that everyone else is living their perfect lives, having perfect smug shags and then going to hot yoga – BUT THEY AREN’T. This is normal and you are normal and everything’s going to be totally fine. – How to enjoy sex if antidepressants have killed your libido

Horny goat weed recommendation aside, this is one of best articles I’ve read about the, not discussed often enough, issue of navigating your sex life when you have a mental illness.

Aisling Bea: ‘My father’s death has given me a love of men, of their vulnerability and tenderness’

I didn’t care that he had not been “in his right mind”, because if I had been important enough to him I would have put him back into his “right mind” before he did it. I didn’t care that he had been in “chronic pain” and that men in Ireland don’t talk about their feelings, so instead die of sadness. I didn’t want him at peace. I wanted him struggling, but alive, so he could meet my boyfriends and give them a hard time, like in American movies. I wanted him to come to pick me up from discos, so my mother didn’t have to go out alone in her pyjamas at night to get me. – Aisling Bea: ‘My father’s death has given me a love of men, of their vulnerability and tenderness’

Activist Burnout Shouldn't Be A Badge Of Honour

I was chatting to someone the other day about how draining activism can be. It’s necessary. It can be rewarding. It can be fulfilling. It can be rage inducing. It can be incredibly frustrating. It’s necessary. And there are times when it’s draining. So draining that you wonder what keeps you going. So draining that it’s difficult to switch off your mind from it, but it also feels like your mind isn’t fully in the game. Activism is necessary, but activist burnout is real. 

Looking after yourself, emotionally and physically is key to ensuring that you’re able to give your best to the issue you care about. The issue that has made you want to do more than sound off to friends or on social media (although social media can and does play a role in activism, but more on that in a future essay). At the moment, my main focus is the campaign to repeal the Eighth Amendment to the Irish Constitution and the introduction of free, safe, legal and accessible abortion for everyone who needs it, regardless of their reason. I also care deeply about ensuring that LGBTQ+ people, particularly those living in rural areas, have the spaces and supports they need. 

Self-care is mentioned a lot in activist circles. If you’re familiar with my blog, you’ll know I have a complicated relationship with the notion of self-care. Self-care means different things to different people, so much so that it often sounds like nothing more than background noise. But self-care is mentioned a lot in activist circles because without it long-term activism would be impossible. 

Burnout as a concept isn’t new. Its origins stem from a 1974 paper written by psychologist Herbert J. Freudenberger. In his paper Freudenberger focused on the experiences of volunteers at a free clinic for people addicted to drugs. He concluded that burnout was to be in a “state of mental and physical exhaustion caused by one’s profession.” Over the years there has been much research into occupational burnout, the most notable of which led to the Maslach Burnout Inventory (MBI). The research of Christina Maslach and her team is considered the gold standard for measuring burnout and its effects on people. One of the major components of burnout is emotional exhaustion.  

Post Brexit and the election of 45, many people are coming to activism for the first time. For me it was the marriage equality referendum in 2015. It’s a referendum I am still recovering from, but it emphasised how much on-the-ground work is important. Passive support can only get us so far. We need to do things. We need people to actively engage. 

Engaging can be hard. Throwing yourself eagerly into something, only to realise that it’s going to be a tough slog can be disheartening. So, I can understand why you might not want to do it. The other side of that is that there are not enough people doing the things that need to be done. There are not enough people, so those who are doing those things find themselves doing more things than they may have the capacity for. Because to not do the thing, means the thing might not get done. It might, but you don’t know for sure. Not doing the thing, whatever it is on any given day, leaves you feeling guilty and anxious about not doing the thing. 

That last one is where I am at the moment. I don’t have the energy to give activism the level of attention it deserves. I’m 18 months deep into the campaign to repeal the Eighth and it’s beginning to wear me out. 18 months is nothing compared to some people and the movement is full of people around me who are as invested as I am. 

The thing about taking a break is that I don’t know how long of a break I’ll need and that’s scary. A couple of days are one thing, but if it’s any longer than that the guilt ramps up and I spend a significant amount of time focussed on the things I could and “should” be doing. Which kind of defeats the point of taking a break, doesn’t it? It’s exhausting and the worry about finding it exhausting makes it even more so. Getting the balance right isn’t easy.

Activist burnout is real and it’s OK to take a step back when you need to look after yourself. It’s OK to do what you need to do, without feeling guilty about all the things you “should” be doing. Sometimes recharging your batteries, so you are able to step back into the fray, is the best thing you can do. Putting yourself first is not selfish. Activist burnout is real, but it shouldn’t be seen as a badge of honour.

Rape Culture Is Real

Recently an Irish politician said he had never heard a rape joke. The premise of his tweet was that rape culture doesn’t exist; the only evidence he produced was that he made it to his 50s without ever experiencing it.

Many questioned whether he had, in fact, never heard a rape joke. Some pointed out that he probably had, in the form of “backs against the wall” or “dropping the soap in prison” jokes, but he didn’t see them as rape jokes. Guess what? They are.

I’ve only been to a handful of amateur comedy nights and I’ve heard rape jokes at every single one of them. At all, bar one, the audience did not react well to those jokes, which is heartening. But in each case a man still thought standing on a stage and making light of sexual assault and rape was a good idea. Those jokes were like a punch in the gut for me, so I can’t even begin to imagine what hearing them would feel like to a survivor of sexual assault or rape.

No-one is saying that rape culture is only a problem in Ireland. Quite the opposite, rape culture is an issue across the world. An issue society doesn’t take seriously enough. Rape culture feeds into the idea that there are circumstances in which women are “asking for it”.

Yes, it is about rape jokes. It is also about “Slane Girl”. It is about 21% of Irish respondents to a recent Eurobarometer poll thinking sex without consent is OK in certain circumstances. It is about a parish priest providing a character reference to a man convicted of sexual assault. It is about a community rallying around a man convicted of raping his former partner’s child. It is about a pattern of lenient sentencing for perpetrators of violent and/or sexual crimes against women.

These things do not happen in isolation. They happen because “boys will be boys” is seen as an explanation. They happen because consent isn’t something we teach our children about nearly enough. They happen because we think that if we can’t see it, then it must not happen. They happen because when women do stand up to rape culture, we are told that not all men are like that and we should stop acting like they are. They happen because we continue to allow them to happen.

Talking about rape culture does not perpetuate it. Naming it means we can dismantle it. Dismantling rape culture should be in everyone’s interests.

The complexities of self-care

If you have spent any time on the internet in recent years, you’ll have heard of self-care. It’s everywhere. At its core, self-care is “care of the self without medical or other professional consultation.”

What was once confined to the self management of chronic illnesses has become part of everyday language and interactions. The difficulty is that it means different things to different people.

At the end of most sessions my therapist tells me to be kind to myself. I always say I will, but it’s only in the last six months that I’ve fully examined what this means for me.

Scrolling through Instagram it strikes me that I rarely see men talk about treating themselves. They photograph things they’ve purchased and the food they eat, but they rarely frame these things as treats.

Does this mean that men focus on themselves less? Or is the way we talk about self-care gendered? More and more it’s something I see packaged as a women’s issue. Women are told that looking after themselves involves this face mask, that nail polish or having a girl’s night at the latest ‘must be seen in’ restaurant. The commodification of women’s lived experiences in order to sell them ‘must have’ products that are anything but helps no-one, not least because those items aren’t accessible to everyone.

That’s not to say relaxing baths, fancy candles and focusing on skincare aren’t important to people who enjoy those things. They are. After months of trying every mindfulness technique I could find to no avail, except frustration, I realise that the 10 or 15 minutes I spend on skincare twice a day is the time I spend being mindful. Acknowledging this practice helps.

Here’s where it gets complicated, at least for me. Sometimes the things I tell myself are self-care is actually avoidance. I’ll just read a few more chapters becomes a way of not taking the dog for a walk, which means not having to get dressed. Buying things purely because they catch my eye becomes a way of not having to deal with my feelings. This doesn’t end well.

Self-care is as complex and varied as there are people who practice it. There is no one size fits all. Yet society tells women to buy the thing because we’ve earned it and tells people with mental health difficulties that exercise will solve their problems.

I think self-care is vital; I wouldn’t be here without it. But it can only do so much; it isn’t a substitute for outside help. This is particularly important to remember when it comes to mental health. Placing the entire onus to ‘get well’ on someone with a mental illness can be dangerous. Sometimes the last thing you are capable of doing when you’re in the thick of it are the very things at the top of every self-care list; going for a walk, mindfulness etc.

How do we find a balance? And where do we draw the line? Properly funded mental health services are essential. It’s all well and good being told to speak to someone. There actually needs to be therapists, psychologists and psychiatrists available when people look for help. There are times when self-care can only do so much. It’s important that we not lose sight of that.

Sometimes curling up in bed with a book is the best form of self-care, but sometimes you have to get up and put the washing on. Sometimes that’s the best thing you can do for yourself. Sometimes it’s hard to know which one you need to do. And that’s OK.

11 Thought-Provoking Articles From 2016

I love discovering new writers, re-visiting old favourites and I’m grateful to authors, bloggers, columnists, journalists and writers for putting pen to paper, so to speak, and sharing their work with the world.

To mark the new year I’m sharing 11 thought-provoking articles from 2016. These articles have all resonated with me in some way and I find myself returning to them frequently. They’ve helped me understand the world a little better. They’ve challenged my views on certain issues. They’ve helped me come to terms with things in my own life. They’ve reminded me of the importance of words and the power of telling our stories.

What To Do When You Feel Like Your World Is Ending And Everybody Hates You And Nothing Will Ever Be Ok Again

I’ve seen a few debates lately about what the “right” kind of self-care is. Should you do the dishes or leave them in the sink while you take a nap? Should you make good on your plans and go out with friends even when you feel crappy or should you bail with some transparent excuse? Should you clean your room or hunker down with a good book and let your future self worry about picking up your clothes? – What To Do When You Feel Like Your World Is Ending And Everybody Hates You And Nothing Will Ever Be Ok Again

This post, by Anne Thériault, is one I’ve returned to regularly throughout the year. I even printed out the list that is included at the end.

Bustle and the Industrialization of Confession

Cases can be made for and against a survey that distills human experience and outright trauma down to a series of boxes to check, but what is inarguable is that this document is a sign of the times. I would add that it’s a fascinating one. The current media climate demands more life from writers than ever, especially if they aren’t interested in doing actual reporting. The market rewards personal storytelling with attention—the more lurid and specific, the better. Just a few weeks ago, we saw a young xoJane writer seemingly pushed to the brink by what she perceived to be the demands of her job and her reluctance to reveal. Nora Ephron’s signature mantra “everything is copy” has become the norm, except everything can’t ever be enough when your job is to churn out posts on a routine basis. – Bustle and the Industrialization of Confession

Much has been written about confessional writing, but this article about the Bustle Writers: Identity Survey is the best I’ve read.

Shout, shout, let it all out

As someone who talks feminism on the internet a lot, this is a point that gets put to me on average a couple of times a day. That we’d advance our cause a lot faster if we were… well… just a little bit nicer about it. And in general, I think being nice is great. It’s very nice to be very nice.

But when we’re talking about women taking up space and making their voices heard, we have to be pretty careful about what behaviour we reward. Because when people say women talking about feminism should be “nicer”, what they often actually mean is “gentler”, “softer”, “quieter”, “smaller”.

When people ask feminists to be nice, they’re more often telling us to take up less space, to be less disruptive with our disruptions. We need feminism because women are constantly punished for acting unladylike, so much so that our discussions of women’s rights are punished for it too. – Shout, shout, let it all out

Fiona Longmuir’s article, in defence of shouty feminism, had me nodding along and shouting “This. This. So much this.” to an empty room. Read, enjoy and be proud of your shouty feminism.

Anxiety and the ‘fuck budget’

Anyway. She says: the secret to living a happy life is to stop giving a fuck about everything. You make a ‘fuck budget’, in which you have limited fucks to give, stop giving a fuck about things you shouldn’t, then revel in how amazing your life is now.

Except she ties it to anxiety. And that’s not always how it works if you have anxiety. As I have had to explain to relatives and friends when I’ve failed them in any one of a thousand ways: anxiety is not like an M+S jumper – you can’t get rid of it by just deciding that you don’t want it any more. It would be like preventing the flu by simply deciding never to get the flu. Or solving a transport problem by deciding that you’ll learn to fly. – Anxiety and the ‘fuck budget’

Telling someone with anxiety or an anxiety disorder to stop focusing on things they don’t need to isn’t always the best course of action. Not giving a fuck isn’t always doable for the person with anxiety either.

For me this ties in with the recent focus on self-care. Yes, self-care has its place but it isn’t a substitute for outside care (be it talk therapy or medication) and placing the onus to “get well” on a person who has a mental illness can be dangerous. Sometimes the last thing you are capable of doing when you’re in the thick of it are the very things that top every self-care list going (exercise, mindfulness etc.)

To All the Straight Women Who Love Gay Men: Your Safe Space Is No Longer Their Safe Space

This is a thing we do, we straight girls. Especially cis, straight, femme girls. We maintain intimate friendships with beautiful gay men, basking in their appreciation of our femininity, jointly appraising male sexiness, seeking expert opinions on relationships, and invading party spaces. Here we dance, let loose, sing out loud, and enjoy ourselves without fear of predatory male sexual attention. Straight girls love gay male public spaces because they feel like safe spaces. The Orlando massacre reminds us this safety is an illusion of our relative privilege. Not even gay public space is safe space to be gay. – To All the Straight Women Who Love Gay Men: Your Safe Space Is No Longer Their Safe Space

This is an important read about queer spaces and how they can’t really be safe spaces for straight women when the Orlando shooting proved that queer spaces aren’t even safe for queer people. The last line is particularly powerful.

Self-Care Isn’t Always Sweet And Cozy

What we need is very rarely what we want, but that doesn’t make it any less necessary or important. Some nights, taking care of your mental health means vanilla scented candles and a long bath. On other nights, taking care of your mental health means forcing yourself to do your fucking laundry. The important thing is to remember that there is a balance between the two. – Self-Care Isn’t Always Sweet And Cozy

An important reminder that self-care isn’t all about relaxing baths, fancy candles and buying things all in the name of treating yourself. Sometimes doing the thing you least want to do is actually self-care.

The Audacity of Hopelessness

“A bigger part of tonight’s story is that millions and millions of Americans are willing to vote for a candidate who has been endorsed by the Klan. They are willing to vote for a candidate who has displayed open contempt for women. They are willing to vote for a candidate whose base is openly hostile to people of color, immigrants and Muslims. We cannot ignore the hate that Mr. Trump both encourages and allows to flourish.” – The Audacity of Hopelessness

My response to Donald Trump’s election was to repeat “this is what the white supremacist patriarchy looks like” over and over to anyone who would listen. Roxane Gay’s article in the immediate aftermath of the result has stayed with me.

Questioning Safety Pin Solidarity Revealed why I Can’t Trust White People

Don’t expect thanks for the solidarity you should have always been showing. Don’t expect your pin to provide comfort in lieu of action. And don’t expect it to bring actual change. We have real work that has to be done and I suggest we get started. – Questioning Safety Pin Solidarity Revealed Why I Can’t Trust White People

Safety pins made an appearance twice in 2016; first following Brexit and then after Trump’s election. I’ve read many articles about the pros and cons of wearing a safety pin and the thing that struck me was that all the articles in favour of safety pins were written by white people who wear them and the articles that had issues with people wearing safety pins were written by people of colour, the very people the pins were supposed to help.

This article, by Ijeoma Oluo, is a must read on the subject. 

Queer Writers in the Age of Trump

“Contemporary America is filled with shadows and ghosts; we have never been free of the bigotries of homophobia, sexism, and racism. But it is also, despite all this, a more tolerant America than the one Highsmith lived in. The title of her novel had come from the biblical story of Lot, whose wife turns into a pillar of salt because she looks back while running away from the fallen city of Sodom. We cannot turn back to the past, either.” – Queer Writers in the Age of Trump

On queerness and queer writing, how it has evolved and what it means in the age of a Trump presidency.

NOW IS THE TIME TO TALK ABOUT WHAT WE ARE ACTUALLY TALKING ABOUT

Hazy visions of “healing” and “not becoming the hate we hate” sound dangerously like appeasement. The responsibility to forge unity belongs not to the denigrated but to the denigrators. The premise for empathy has to be equal humanity; it is an injustice to demand that the maligned identify with those who question their humanity. – NOW IS THE TIME TO TALK ABOUT WHAT WE ARE ACTUALLY TALKING ABOUT

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie on the election of Donald Trump because sometimes only the words of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie will do.

Sometimes There Are More Important Goals Than Civility

Civility is not the highest moral imperative—especially in response to perceived injustices—nor is hand-holding and guiding reluctant people to confront their bigotry gently. American history is full of fights, including the ongoing struggle for civil rights, that have been as fierce as they are ultimately effective. Civility is overrated. – Sometimes There Are More Important Goals Than Civility

We hear so much about civility and it’s role in political, human rights and social justice movements. We’re all familiar with tone policing; the refusal to engage fully with an issue because of how the people affected by that issue act or react. In Ireland, it’s most noticeable when it comes to the #RepealThe8th and the pro-choice movement. This articles is about people of colour reacting to white supremacy, racism and the election of Donald Trump in whatever way is best for them, without having to worry about “alienating” people.

Letting People In

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder earlier this year, and it terrifies me. It was the least unexpected diagnosis I’ve ever received, but that doesn’t make it easy.

The thing that scares me the most, the thing that has me holding my breath, the thing that is stopping me really moving forward is stigma, both internal and external. I have been open about having depression and anxiety. I have been vocal in discussing how we, as a society, need to end the stigma surrounding mental health issues. No one should fear how other people view them, simply because they are ill.

Yet here I am.

I am doing all the right things; medication, therapy and self-care. My mood is stabilising, the fog is lifting and my concentration is returning. It’s draining, but I am doing everything I can to give myself the best chance.

Yet there is this voice telling me not to talk about. Telling family is one thing, but don’t talk about it the way you did when it was just depression and anxiety. Just. As if depression and anxiety aren’t serious illnesses. As if depression and anxiety are easy. As if depression and anxiety are separate from other mental illnesses.

I know better than this. I’ve spoken better than this. Ending the stigma surrounding mental health has always been important to me. I thought I got it, I really did.

Yet here I am.

Here I am, scared people will judge me. Here I am, judging myself. Here I am, drawing distinctions that I would question anyone else for drawing.

I’m still processing, I know that. It’ll take time and hard work. Stigma will not win, I won’t let it. I am disappointed it has affected me this way. I thought I’d left all that behind. I thought I had done the work. I thought, I thought, I thought. Stigma is insidious and clearly has other ideas for me.

Acknowledging it is the first step to letting it go. I can start to breath properly. I can fully let other people help.

I know I’m not alone.

I will let people in, but I’m not quite there yet.

Being bisexual in rural Ireland

I wrote this piece about being bi+ and living in rural Ireland for the Cork Pride guide. I submitted it before the Orlando shooting where 49 people were killed and 53 others injured. The aftermath of this homophobic act of terrorism makes safe spaces for LGBTQ+ people all the more important. On a personal level, I missed not having an LGBTQ+ bar/space close by so I could visit in the days following the massacre. 

What’s it like being bi+ and living in rural Ireland? Since moving from Dublin to Kerry three years ago I have faced the assumption, on multiple occasions, that I am an ally and not a member of the LGBTQ+ community because I had my boyfriend/husband (same person, we got married after I moved) with me.

Whether this was down to the specific people involved or, in the case of canvassing, simply a result of the deliberate bi-erasure of the entire Yes Equality campaign I’ll never know for sure and once I said I was bi+ most people were great about it. Still, it can be draining and if not for talking to the brilliant people I’ve met through Bi+ Ireland I would have felt completely on my own.

Bi-erasure is still something I deal with on a regular basis but I think most, if not all, bi+ people do and it’s not a specifically rural thing. The more it happens the more determined I become to ensure that future generations won’t have to put up with it, that means calling it out when I experience or see it. It also means being visible, so people know that bi+ people exist.

On a practical level; heading out for drinks and a catch up with friends in the local gay bar isn’t always an option when the local gay bar is actually in a neighbouring county. The lack of a resource or drop in centre means there isn’t a designated safe space for LGBTQ+ people and without a central hub it can be difficult to know what, if any, events are taking place. I know because it was one of the first things I looked for when I moved.

Things are changing though. WinK (Women in Kerry), a group for LGBTQ+ women and their friends, turned one in May. They meet monthly and past events have included trips to the cinema, trips to the theatre, going for dinner, going for a walk all of which involve having a chat and getting to know each other more over drinks/coffee afterwards.

The recent establishment of a Kerry branch for the LGBT Helpline has the potential to become an anchor for the local LGBTQ+ community. Not just for those who may need to contact the service, but for those people who volunteer and those who will volunteer in the future. Hopefully it’ll lead to more activity locally and the eventual setting up of a drop in centre.

Sorry if this all sounds a bit negative, I don’t mean it to but the practicalities and the knock on effects of being so far away from LGBTQ+ spaces is an issue I’m passionate about and want to work on improving.

Living in Kerry has re-emphasised, for me, the importance of Pride events and making and maintaining connections within the LGBTQ+ community. Most importantly, perhaps, it has reminded me that the personal is still very much political when it comes to being out, especially for bi+ people.