‘Women issues’ occupied every bit of the media this week; from Oprah Winfrey’s impassioned Golden Globe speech, to Carrier Gracie calling out the BBC on their illegal pay practices (not to mention Theresa May’s sham of a scam of a mockery cabinet reshuffle). I spent a good part of the week screaming at news interviews or giving standing ovations to people from all walks of life boldly declaring the end of abuse towards women and girls. But amongst all the inspired tweets and speeches it was clear that progress when it comes to ‘women issues’ has been slow and overstated.
Just let me be normal.
Just let 2018 be a year where I don’t have to prove my womanness by being extraordinary.
One day when I was about eight years old I can home from school and declared to mum that I wasn’t going to be a doctor, nurse or teacher – oohhh no; I was going to be an ordinary person. My eldest sister was obsessed with London’s Burning, so had her sights set on becoming a firewoman. I was pretty sure my brother would be a carpenter. My other sister was fascinated by martial arts, so I figured her and my cousin would form some kind of Caribbean justice league. They’d take down villains by fusing together a few moves from Bruce Lee, with the transforming ability of Optimus Prime and mutant gene of Wolverine.
Resolutions at the ready; cue long captions about lessons learnt from 2017, fresh starts and revolutions. I didn’t want to miss out on the party; but I also wanted to show compassion on your newsfeed this holiday season, so what better place to put my ramblings than here.