Taking a stand

Choosing battles has never been harder or more important.

As the song the Gambler says,

‘You've got to know when to hold 'em

Know when to fold 'em

Know when to walk away

And know when to run’

I’ve always been much more comfortable fighting back for someone else than standing up for myself when a wrong is done against me. My activism and continued fight for women has been fuelled by the determination and ability to make my experiences as universal as possible while recognising and acknowledging that my privileges make it impossible for me to internalise the layers of abuse and discrimination BAME and queer women face daily. Everything I experience, I experience as a middle class, educated, pretty, thin, White woman with an American accent.

I am granted access to the media and to audiences that very few people have, and yes, I have worked tirelessly to use that access for less heard voices, but I am also very conscious not to abuse the platform that I have to fight for women.

That means when a fake only fans was made of me and sent to my father; the fight wasn’t about just getting the account of me taken down– I’m 46 and the videos were not of my body– but was about the 15 year old who kills herself because of videos posted of her without her consent. The fight is always bigger than me. And my personal fight is always about helping others that no one will listen to.

But choosing my battles and conserving energy is absolutely crucial. I hate when strangers publicly tag me in a video of a woman being abused, not because I don’t want to help a victim, but I cannot help everyone and the guilt and loss of sleep over not being able to be all resources for all people is painful. And as I have been going through a very rough patch with my health; I have had to take a step back from almost everything and even needed help taking care of Smalls.

My hyper independence doesn’t allow me to ask for help easily, nor does it normally allow me to walk away from a fight where I witness injustice and think that I can help bring clarity and build some bridges. There is not a lot I am absolutely certain on; but my sense of injustice and my willingness to use my own fear, pain and humiliation to accurately detail my experiences to try to establish empathetic connection and understanding is steadfast.

And through this work, I have become extremely skilled at using my words to dissect and explain why and how situations may seem innocuous on first glance, but to the people within the experience and the power construct of the interaction, layers of misogyny, racism and class can create a perfect storm. I am very conscious of when and why I step into an argument about women’s safety and treatment.

I share and expose my own fears, anger and pain in order to unpack why certain reactions are taken a certain way. When explaining or sharing exchanges, there is unspoken understanding of women that have been patted on their heads their whole lives. Girl code is so ingrained, that we know exactly what the subtext is and what the threat level is with a lot of interactions.

I think about my possible routes to impact constantly. By nature, I am a hothead. I want to choose violence. I want to go nuclear all of the time. But I have also learned not to publish when I still want to punch things. I have done a lot of therapy to unpick the simmering violence in my blood. I have absolutely learned to take a beat or ten. To decide whether or not the fight is worth my time and energy and to analyse if my level of platform and audience need to learn and hear about the issue, or if it is really just personal and I need to get on with my life.

If the credibility and audience I have gained as the result of four years of fighting daily for women’s lives and voices will help amplify others voices, then I usually make the decision to fight. But more often than not, these days, that fight is through official channels rather than dropping a massive bomb to the national press.

I choose my weapons, my words and my strategic roadmap carefully; and refuse to be silenced on the issues that really matter to me. Sometimes it feels like I have painted a huge target on myself and there is a bounty on my head, and certain powerful men seem to enjoy taking me on and goading me– or maybe I am giving myself too much influence and credit; and they don’t notice me at all. After all, I’m just a hysterical and sensitive woman. Maybe they think of me as an annoying gnat always banging on about womanish things while they get on with the important business of performative allyship.

But here is the thing. I am not who I am if I take it laying down. I negate all of my work if I stand by and watch the women of colour around me be shouted down and labelled aggressive and watch as those women shout louder and louder to be heard; and those shouts are then ridiculed. I haven’t worked this hard to shape my purpose and focus to go quiet when powerful men try to belittle me and other women that walk the walk and do the work daily. Not on my watch.

I refuse to look away. I refuse to act like it isn’t a big deal. I refuse to be complicit.