America’s National French Fry Day highlighted just what is wrong with the world
Chips; the humble potato; peeled, sliced, par-boiled and fried in hot oil; an affordable and universally popular food source — among white westerners at least.
Some like their chips with gravy. Others with tomato sauce. Many are just happy with a sprinkling of salt — unless you’re a wanker in which case you’ll want wanker salt which some call sea-salt flakes. I know this because I am a wanker.
Chips are an integral part of colloquial life. …
It was a dark wintery day when I took my first step through the gateway into the first lair of online misogynist terrorism — apt considering the task at hand.
I had spent some time preparing; creating a fake male persona; writing up an imaginary profile; making mental checks of my speech. The goal was to keep my new identity both as far away from me and as close as possible. Keeping my real self safe was paramount. But my alt-self I knew would only be believable when the lie was close to the truth. …
The first thing I noticed as I opened the door was the smell. Dank. Musty with a hint of stale cigarette smoke. It was a small house, barely a bungalow really, set in a little gully, right next to a community garden. I went into the bedroom and stood at the large uncovered window taking in the view of little garden plots. It was summer so the plots were in full swing and I smiled as a migrant couple walked around casually snipping things from each plot, perhaps not realising that “community garden” didn’t mean help yourself.
A set of…
Hi my name is Becky, I’m privileged and white.
I think that I’m special, I think that I’m right.
I think that I’m perfect and totally woke,
and if you say otherwise, then you’re just a joke.
I’m not like the others, despite what they say,
though I do love spiced lattes; wear ugg boots all day.
I take lots of selfies and drink bottled smiles.
There’s no better person for miles upon miles.
There's no better person to take on the role
of playing the victim, or being a troll.
As a next level Becky, too young to be…
Is the patriarchy finally crumbling?
I’m really not sure how the term “extinction burst” entered my vocabulary but I found myself recently using it in a discussion around patriarchy and as it left my mouth I had one of those moments when I realised I might actually be on to something.
If you’re a parent you may be familiar with the concept. It’s a term used in psychology to describe, well, a tantrum of sorts. Or, in more accurate terms, the phenomenon of a previously reinforced or learned behaviour that temporarily increases when the reward for the behaviour is removed.
It’s not easy being a woman. It’s not easy being woke. And it’s especially not easy being a woke woman online. I’m seeing evidence of this a lot lately and recently had my own experience of pissing off the hive.
I’ve written about pile-ons before. They’re a common feature of online activism, the most common being the swarms of angry white men who like to buzz their raging violence all over the pages of public women. …
I hate men. All of them? Really? Yes, the whole lot of them. By default, I have very little respect for any of them. Which is funny actually, because ostensibly I don’t have any legitimacy when it comes to hating men. I chose to marry one, after all, and I have to admit that I’m still very fond of him. ~ Pauline Harmange
Perhaps you have heard of it, that little French book with the neon-yellow see me I’m right here cover and read me if you dare title. Spotting it on a bookstore shelf can elicit a visceral response…
"The work of a dictionary is more than just adding new words. It’s an ongoing effort to ensure that how we define words reflects changes in language — and life."
“Manhater!” cried one. “Misandrist!” yelled another. “Sexist bitch!” not far behind.
These were some of the responses to my comments on a thread about domestic violence deaths in Australia after a week when there had been three in quick succession. …
You always know when the day we’ve chosen to exalt our wide brown colonised country is near. Social media profile pics will be appropriately framed. Some with the British; red, white, and blue. Others the Aboriginal; black, red, and yellow. The odd car will be seen donned with a small flag of the same palette. One on the antenna, two atop the roof rack. Signs will begin to appear on roadsides advertising community events. Some, where colonial descendants and immigrants can celebrate their collective pride in this their great multicultural nation. …
Navel Gazer | Feminist | Urban Agriculturalist | Queen of Snark | Sweating the little things