Strange weather…and a worried Priestess…

I’m going to talk about climate change. I guess if you’re one of those who thinks climate change is a phony stunt put on by scientists for a reason nobody can quite explain, then this post isn’t for you.

I’ve been worried about the weather.

This year is the same as last year. We had a very early warm Spring. The bulbs were up and out ridiculously early – almost a month and a half ahead of time – and apparently birds were about that much ahead of time in their nesting behaviour.

It’s not just here in New Zealand that this strange stuff was going on. Over in England, on the other side of the world from us, frogs have been spawning months ahead of time, and garden plants are budding, tricked by the unseasonal weather into thinking Spring is here.

But it isn’t. Over there it’s autumn right now.

Frogs are spawning in the UK's late autumn. Photo from the Daily Mail.
Frogs are spawning in the UK’s late autumn. Photo from the Daily Mail.

What happened next after our incredibly warm early Spring, in which we were wearing t-shirts and shorts and everything began blooming, was even stranger. The weather turned bad abruptly. For the last two months we’ve been back in very cold weather again, with fierce storms, virtually non-stop rain, and hail storms on more days than I care to count (every day this week except Tuesday, and most days last week).

The storms have blown the blossom off the trees, and the young leaves are struggling to gain a hold. We’ve lost trees, and power lines have gone down all around.

Farmers are at their wits end, wondering when to cut hay for the winter – with so much rain practically every day, the grass is too wet, and if it is cut and bailed up it will rot. So it continues to grow.

Things may be very difficult next winter if the grass isn’t dry enough to cut. The animals rely on it to get through winter when nothing grows. If there isn’t enough food in storage, they’ll starve or have to be culled.

Seeing the visible effects of climate uncertainty

As someone who lives on a farm, and as a Pagan, I feel very connected to all this.

When I see the daffodil bulbs coming up before midwinter, I don’t have to guess that something is wrong: I can see it is.

I live in Dunedin, in the south island of New Zealand, where it is cold. Some people here laugh and say if it is going to get warmer, well, bring it on!

But what is happening is chaotic; unpredictable. We get ridiculously warm early Springs and late Autumns that convince the animals and plants it’s time to breed and grow. Then things turn back to ice and hail, and everything dies in the frost.

This isn’t healthy warmth. This is a challenge that nature is not equipped to deal with, brought on by us.

I know I can’t do anything significant about all of this, and you might say if one person can’t make a difference what’s the point of worrying? But what I can do is talk about the changes I’m seeing, and express the genuine fear I’m feeling inside.

This isn’t something that we should be debating and laughing about. This is something real, and we need to make widespread changes to the way we all live in order to deal with it. Changing a light globe or two won’t cut it. I’m convinced that downsizing and simplifying our lives, and moving altogether away from consumer culture is the only way forward.

To what? Something better, I think. Because – let’s face it – consumer culture, working 50 hours a week, being in lifelong debt, buying cheap plastic crap made by people in slave conditions and envying the Joneses aren’t all great cultural wonders I particularly want to keep for eternity anyway. Do you?

Thanks for reading and, if you can, spare a thought for those poor little English frogs. I think they’ll be in for a rough time when the weather turns.


Paganism and simplicity

When a lot of Pagans start out, they get a bit of the “gear witch” vibe about them.

They buy stuff. Lots and lots and lots of stuff.

In the Pagan community, there’s so much stuff to be had, so many fabulous tools and toys. It can all be a bit overwhelming. And if you like to spend and possess and have lovely things, it can be real easy to start collecting a lot of stuff.

I went through this, and a lot of my friends did too. Tarot sounds interesting, so you collect a few tarot decks plus some books on the subject. Runes sound great too, so before you know it you have a few sets of rune stones and some books about them too.

You figure you must have a Wand (everyone knows a you’re not a Real Pagan[TM] unless you have a Wand!!!) and you must have a Blade (because they’re cool too, and a Blade has different energy).

Before you know it, you’re eyeing off those fancy swords online and wondering which you can afford. Or how many. Maybe a collection. Yeah…a collection would be great.

It all adds up, and builds up, and when you add the candles and bells and Tibetan singing bowls and God and Goddess figurines and chalices and cauldrons to the collection, no wonder so many Pagans are drowning in stuff! Plus the clothes – you feel like, as a newbie, the right ritual robes and capes will give you pagan “street cred”.

So you buy, buy, buy.

It’s all very addictive. And very, very easy to do.

And very, very wrong.


Paganism comes from within

All the stuff in the world won’t make a person a Pagan. Which is a good thing. We’re a bit selective like that! Likewise, I’d argue that any path that encourages you to buy and own lots of stuff is a fool’s path.

You’ll find lots of Pagans with lots of fancy stuff all around the world…and they’re usually the silliest Pagans of the lot. They’ve forgotten that the Divine is immanent. Within us. It can’t be bought or sold.

The more stuff you collect, the harder it is to focus on the inner self, your connection with the Divine, and what really matters. Fancy stuff is just a temptation; a lure. A diversion from the truth.

A diversion from the truth.


We all know that of course. It’s written clearly in one of the most valued early texts in modern Paganism, which is the Charge of the Goddess:

    “…If that which thou seekest thou findest not within thee, thou wilt never find it without thee.

    For behold, I have been with thee from the beginning; and I am that which is attained at the end of desire.”

You won’t find Paganism in stuff, and you certainly won’t find Divinity. All the tools, and toys, and robes are just props.

You could even call them diversions for the weak-minded. They help set the scene for those who can’t focus without them. They hold no real power by themselves. Only living matter can do that: living energy.

That’s what we Pagans do: channel energy; create energy; focus energy. A wand in the end is just a stick. A blade in the end is just a hunk of metal. This is the real truth. Connection to the Divine comes from within, not from these lifeless things.

If you want to find the Divine, get rid of everything that isn’t essential. Then you will find what you truly seek.


Preparing your online estate for your death…

I’ve been busy clearing out my online clutter…and thinking about how to organise it all not just for now, but in case the worst happens.

I got my first email address when I was 19, waaaaay back in 1988, when the internet was just in its infancy. My first real website dated from 1995, from memory. I’ve been online a long time.

Since then I’ve moderated countless forums, yahoo groups (remember those?), you name it…and I’ve left a huge trail behind me in my wake.

Over time I learned the benefit of controlling my online identity, of course, and of clearing up after myself, but I still needed to do a big tidy up of my online presence, as I’m now heading back to work and I won’t have time to deal with a lot of it any more.

So over the last few days I’ve been closing down old defunct blogs, archiving old articles, cleaning up folders of digital photographs dating back decades (we bought our first digital camera in 1998), and generally clearing up.

It’s been quite a job.

A lot of the time people don’t think of our online presence as clutter. But it is. One of the big problems people are starting to face is dealing with online content after the death of loved ones.

Facebook in particular has been…difficult in releasing pages to relatives and partners, and they’re not alone. Some companies simply refuse to hand over any account without a password.

And a lot of partners and relatives simply don’t know what their loves ones even have online, let alone how to access it all or what their loved ones would want them to do with it all in the event of death.

Planning ahead: Creating an “in the event of” journal

I’m pretty organised, but not as well as I’d like to be. My husband knows most of my passwords, and could probably get in to most of my accounts. However, he probably wouldn’t know what my wishes were regarding their closure or continuance.

So…I’m going to write down my passwords in my paper journal I keep in my bedside drawer, together with a list of what and where everything is.

Yes, I know we’re all told this is bad form. Writing down passwords! Shock! Horror! But think about it for a moment. Unless there is money involved that the password accounts can access, writing down account details in a safe place is far more secure than writing them online.

By writing down what accounts (online diaries, facebook accounts, blogs etc.) you have, where they are, your usernames and your passwords for the accounts (making sure you keep the password information up to date), together with clear instructions of how you would like the accounts handled should anything happen to you, you are saving the people you care about a massive headache.

They can then tackle each account when they are ready, follow your instructions, and the job is done. Easy. If you wish, you can even write a short piece in advance that you’d like them to post in the event of your death. It’s up to you.

I think this makes sense. I’d like my readers to be informed if anything happened to me. I like loose ends to be closed. And I like to think it is kinder to give our relatives a more orderly estate to deal with than a headache and a disaster area, right when they are grieving.

It’s thoughtful to be organised, even though it sounds grisly.

These are just my views on the matter, of course. But when I think of friends who have died recently, and the chaos and cleanup they have left behind for their partners, I know it is the right path for me. I don’t want my loved ones to curse me when I’m gone, because I was too thoughtless to get things sorted while I was alive.

What do you think?


Simplicity, me and Project 333…

I’ve started doing Project 333.

Project 333 is a minimalist wardrobe project. In its own words,

“Project 333 is a minimalist fashion challenge that invites you to dress with 33 items or less for 3 months.”

You start by going through your entire wardrobe. For me, that was a lot – about 45 coathagers full, plus five full drawers in a tallboy, plus about 12 pairs of shoes.

You choose 33 items (or less) that fit you and your current lifestyle and season, and box the rest and seal them, then put them out of sight.

Then you work with those 33 items for the next three months.

The 33 items includes: raincoats, jackets, shoes, belts, accesories etc. It does not include nightwear, gym wear (but you can only wear gym wear to the gym) and “lounge wear” (which I take to mean home-only clothing).

What I found

First of all, I found a whole lot of clothes in my wardrobe that I haven’t worn in ages. There were some that I was emotionally attached to, but still haven’t worn in years. I loved the image of myself in those clothes, and the memories I had of myself wearing them, but they didn’t fit who I am here and now any more.

Or the clothes simply didn’t fit any more. There was a lot of that. This has been a rough year emotionally for me, and I’m currently weighing in at my heaviest ever – about 20 kgs up on my usual weight.

Then there were the clothes I’d bought when shopping with friends. I’ve realised now that shopping with friends is a bad idea. They influence me, and I’m tempted to buy things that they like on me but that I won’t necessarily wear.

Then there were the accessories. Fashion magazines tell us to accesorize, but the truth is, I’m a basic kind of woman. Fashion might want us to wear scarves, pins, hats, gloves…but I don’t feel comfortable in them. I’m a jeans and t-shirt girl. Always have been, probably always will be.

What I discovered about myself

I’ve always found style hard. I always thought others had it, and I didn’t. But clearing away the clutter – which was the stuff I didn’t wear, won’t wear, haven’t worn, and will never wear despite fashion telling me I should – helped me realise the blatantly obvious.

I do have a style. My style is jeans, funky vintage shirts, leather jackets, cool t-shirts with clever sayings on them, knee high riding boots…yes, I definitely have a style. It was just lost beneath all the stuff I felt I was supposed to have to match other people’s goals for me.

I also discovered I don’t need many clothes. The clothes I love – and that I wear over and over – aren’t very numerous.
I wear about four shirts constantly.
I wear the same number of t-shirts over and over.
I live in one pair of riding boots practically every day.
And I have two summer dresses – no more – that I love.

My decluttered wardrobe. Everything is wearable, suits me, and fits.
My decluttered wardrobe. Everything is wearable, suits me, and fits.

This isn’t simplicity, it’s clarity

What I’m finding is that Project 333 is not a project in simplicity for me, althought I suppose it is. It’s a project in clarity. It’s helping me see who I am, more clearly.

By clearing away the clutter, I’m able to see what I like and don’t like more clearly, more directly. I don’t have to guess at who I am and what I like, because when I reduce myself to the necessities, it all becomes crystal clear.

Boxes of stuff I don’t need or want

And all that stuff in boxes? Well, at the end of three months, I do an assessment of what I’ve been wearing, cull anything I didn’t wear, go through the boxes and grab anything I want to wear – taking the number up to no more than 33 – and the process starts over.

Feeling better

I can find everything I need. Everything fits. Everything is something I love and want to wear. I’m feeling better. If this is minimalism, why didn’t I do this years ago?

Maybe sometimes we lose the truth among the clutter.

The ME project: grokking minimalism

I’ve always been attracted to minimalism.


I’m sure many of my friends, having visited my home, would never believe me.

Being attracted to it doesn’t mean I haven’t struggled with it. Sure, you see people online who literally have 100 possessions, or own one single red chair or whatever, but I have kids! They have toys! Lego! Stuff!

That single red chair person could never be me.

It was only when I read the post on Raptitude titled I don’t want any more stuff, only things that I grokked minimalism for the first time.

That lightglobe came on over my head.


Here’s how minimalism really works

Minimalism isn’t a race. It’s not a competition. It’s not “she who owns the least, wins.”

We all have possessions. Most of us have too many. But all our possessions can be easily classified into two categories:

Things: Useful items that we use, which have a purpose, or an intrinsic value or beauty that we use and appreciate regularly. Items we take time over. Items that belong in our lives daily, or at least weekly.

Stuff: Purposeless items that we do not use, which do not have an immediate use to us, which may be pretty but do not “sing to our soul”. Items we do not have on display, which do not have a keeping-place or home, which detract from our life, and take up time, space or effort. Items we seldom or never use.

The key to minimalism isn’t about reducing to less than your neighbour has, or some guy or woman on a blog somewhere claims to have.

The key to minimalism is eliminating the stuff, and having only things in your life, thereby enriching it.

“But maybe I’ll use it someday…maybe…”

My life was filled with “maybe” stuff. Things that were “too good” to throw away or pass on, and items that I might use, or would surely use…some time soon.

They’re stuff. They’re not things.

Minimalism is also about living in the present. Planning for the future is wise, depending on how you plan. So safety mechanisms to prepare for emergencies is good, but 27 cans of soup for the Zombie Apocalypse, probably not so much. Being prudent and having good judgement is part of the picture too.

Gifts can also be a problem. What if the person asks after the items they gave you? What if they expect to see you use it and it’s long since been donated or sold?

Firstly, people never ask.
Second, get into the habit of asking people NOT to give gifts. If they insist, ask for perishables instead – a nice bottle of wine, some good quality cheese to share, some fresh flowers.

I’m grokking minimalism. Already, clearing the clutter away, I find my mental state happier and I feel more at ease since clearing my surroundings. And I’m going to continue clearing the clutter.

Find your own minimalism

Understanding what minimalism is about helps me to find my own level of comfort with the concept. I’m not going to end up with one chair, one shirt, one glass. But I will, hopefully, find freedom in owning and feeling the need to own much, much less.


The hardest person in the world to love

I remember the first time I met J. I’ll call her J instead of her real first name, just in case by chance she is out there somehwre, reading this.

I couldn’t see any beauty in her at all. Short, dumpy and blonde, with a chin so minimal as to be non-existent, watery blue eyes, freckles. Nothing exciting.

We sat next to each other in our lecture, and as we were both new to Uni and didn’t know anyone, we started talking. She was so friendly and interesting. She was cool.

J told me about her plans (to be a pediatrician) and her background (a family of farmers with no education at all). Over the next few lectures I learned how proud her parents were that she was here at Uni, the first of her family. And I learned how she’d topped her school in, well, just about everything.

As time went on, I started to see J differently. I saw the character in her face, and the warmth and intelligence in her eyes, and the humour – and wickedness! – in her smile.

Over time, everything that had once been ordinary in my eyes disappeared.

She was beautiful. I couldn’t see her as anything other than beautiful.

The eye beholds…

Our eyes see what we want to see.

Once I began to know J, I saw everything that makes up the unique person that she is. I stopped seeing everything our society judges and criticises in women. Because she brought positive experiences into my life, everything I saw in her was positive.

I forgot how plain I’d thought her when we first met. Even now I can vaguely remember, but not well.

So it surprised me a couple of years ago when she confessed that she’d always struggled with the way she looks. She had difficulty accepting compliments. She found it hard to accept that a man could be attracted to her for anything other than short term sex. She – like me, and practically every other woman I know – compared herself to the images we see everywhere online and on TV and in the media, and she found herself lacking.

She thought her body freakish. And ugly. And bad. Anything but beautiful.

Mirror, mirror…

I’ve always found it odd that our friends and lovers can see the beauty in us that we cannot see in ourselves. They see us, as we are – all the good and bad. They see the whole human being, and they love the things that make us what we are, even if we don’t fit stereotypical beauty.

Like J, I find it hard to accept anyone could find me beautiful. Being dedicated to Aphrodite helps, because She is a Goddess who helps the beauty and power of all women shine forth. But it’s still hard.

Aphrodite empowers us.
Aphrodite empowers us.

I’m over 40, and all I see in the magazines is 20-somethings or very very airbrushed celebrities if they’re older than that. I see nothing that can make myself feel normal, feel beautiful by comparison. So I don’t look.

But it’s still there, that insecurity. It’s not just women, either. I told my boyfriend that he was beautiful the other day. He is. Yet he shrugged the words off awkwardly, disbelievingly. I think he thought I was saying so to make him feel good.

The thought that I could be saying the truth – impossible! How could he be beautiful! He’s not tall, dark and handsome. He’s actually kind of chubby and gingery and pale. But I happen to find him beautiful, because I see the person inside. I like what I see when I look at him.

Painful reflections

When I look in the mirror, all I see is flaws. I see the wrinkles around my eyes, and is that another grey hair? I see the lack of skinnyness, despite my hours and hours in the gym and watching what I eat. I see a very ordinary woman staring back at me. Nothing special. Tall, gangly, blue eyes, brown hair (going grey)…I’m no Scarlett Johannsen.

So many of us find ourselves the hardest person to love. We’re told we’re supposed to look like this or that, and of course we fail. Even the celebrities, chosen for their genetics, need to be airbrushed before they are perfect enough to be consumed by the masses. What chance does an ordinary human have?

Gwen Stefani is beautiful...but not beautiful enough, apparently :(
Gwen Stefani is beautiful…but not beautiful enough, apparently 😦

Maybe we need to look in the mirror less, and listen more. Maybe we should listen to those who see us, know us, love us, instead of comparing ourselves with a perfection that doesn’t exist.

Not only do real women – and men – come in all shapes and sizes, but different people find those different shapes and sizes attractive too. Brad Pitt is meant to be the most handsome man on the planet, but he does nothing for me. Everyone’s tastes are different.

I can *see* that he's handsome, but he does absolutely nothing for me. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
I can *see* that he’s handsome, but he does absolutely nothing for me. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

Maybe when someone tells you they think you are beautiful, they’re telling the truth. They’re not saying that you look like Scarlett Johanssen or Angelina Jolie. They’re saying you are beautiful as yourself. Not even Scarlett or Angelina can manage to look like you.

Maybe the mirror lies. Maybe it’s a story-teller, weaving pretenses of what we think we should be, when we’re actually okay just as we are. Maybe the mirror is cruel, and untruthful.


And maybe we’re not hard to love after all.

I’m not a partial human! Sidelined and disappeared…

I’ve always felt like a complete human. No matter whether you’re male or female, or what race or culture you’re from, I’m guessing you have too. Not a partial human.

So today I want to talk about this.

I'm sure there was *ANOTHER* Avenger...
I’m sure there was *ANOTHER* Avenger…

And this.

I seem to recall there being *FIVE* "Guardians"...
I seem to recall there being *FIVE* “Guardians”…

And this.

Something strange is going on I remember an Avender in a black outfit called "Black" something...Black,'s clearly slipped everyone's mind...
Something strange is going on here…ummm…do I remember an Avenger in a black outfit called “Black” something…Black,’s clearly slipped everyone’s mind…

And this.

Here's what to do. If you need to sideline or "disappear" a character, simply double over with more socially palatable characters.
Here’s what to do. If you need to sideline or “disappear” a character, simply double over with another white male character.

And this.

Looks like a bizarre racoon creature is more palatable than some genders of human...
Looks like a bizarre racoon creature is more palatable than some genders of human…

And I won’t even comment on this, which is so awful it just makes me furious.

The t-shirt in Disney girlswear on the left, and boyswear on the right.
The t-shirt in girlswear on the left, and boyswear on the right. This sucks.

Very occasionally, we won’t be “disappeared” but we’ll very definitely be sidelined…

Who is that character with the red hair in the far right? They couldn't possibly be a REAL Avenger! It's clear from their lack of space in the pic that they're a "helper", and "assistant" character, possibly only "eye candy" for the real stars, the males...
Who is that character with the red hair in the far right? They couldn’t possibly be a REAL Avenger! It’s clear from their lack of space in the pic that they’re a “helper”, and “assistant” character, possibly only “eye candy” for the real stars, the white males…(notice the other sidelined character on the extreme left)

Sidelined and disappeared…

I want to point out a few facts now.

We’re nearly 50% of the tickets. Women make up nearly 50% of movie sales at comic book movies (one recent survey suggested the figure of 44%). We’re a BIG market, not a tiny percentage of viewers and attendees and fans.

Women are attending ComicCons in large numbers. This year’s San Diego Comic-Con had 40% female attendance. These events aren’t all white male antisocial geeks from basements. The crowds have changed, if they ever were that stereotype to start with.

Women buy stuff. We want to buy merchandise, and we want that merchandise to feature our favourite characters. Not some of them. ALL of them.

We want fairness. Women are increasingly pissed at the way we’re being sidelined in comics. We want our female characters, and we’re pissed that they’re not appearing as the STARS of movies.

We want to be seen as real people. Women are also pissed at the way we’re being overly sexualized in comics and the movies that spring from them. We want accurate, diverse representation. We want to be seen as real, whole people, with real strengths and weaknesses, and real stories to tell. Because that is what we are.

Most of all, we don’t want to be seen as things. We want to be seen as people.

Speaking for myself and my daughter…and my daughter’s generation

It’s not hard to write real, strong women. Just write us as people, because that’s what we are. We screw up, we have frailties. We’re not governed by our relationships all the time. We are goal driven a lot of the time, especially if you’re writing a hero character.

Women can be heroes. Often we are.
Women can be leaders of men. Often we are.
Women can be strong, yet still completely feminine and powerful and amazing and uniquely beautiful. Often we are.

Even in real life, when I look at some of the strongest people I know, my mind often travels to the women I know rather than the men. We don’t typically hold higher career positions, because of the boundaries and limits that society has set us, but heck, we can be powerful.

So don’t sideline us. Don’t “disappear” us. It’s offensive and nasty and cheap and hurtful. It’s degrading and demeaning to some of the most incredible people I know.

Sure, these are superheroes I’m giving as examples, and you could claim it doesn’t matter. But it does. We all need our role models. We all need to believe we could be that hero on the screen. We all need to believe that we too can be the “chosen one”, the hero with a destiny greater than we thought possible.

We all need to dare to dream. Give us our dreams. We deserve them.

A Response to ‘Women Against Feminism.’

Yes. So much yes.


Imagine this:

The year is 2014. You are a white Western woman. You wake up in the morning in a comfortably sized house or flat. You have a full or part-time job that enables you to pay your rent or mortgage. You have been to school and maybe even college or university as well. You can read and write and count. You own a car or have a driver’s licence. You have enough money in your own bank account to feed and clothe yourself. You have access to the Internet. You can vote. You have a boyfriend or girlfriend of your choosing, who you can also marry if you want to, and raise a family with. You walk down the street wearing whatever you feel like wearing. You can go to bars and clubs and sleep with whomever you want.

Your world is full of freedom and possibility.

Then you…

View original post 1,400 more words

Hit like a girl…

This viral video came through on my Facebook feed the other day:

All i can think is, What are we doing in our society that is so, so wrong?

I remember the point in sport when I stopped trying. I also remember the point at school when “popularity quizzes” took over, and one of the girls was asking all the boys who they liked, and ranking the girls in the class, top to bottom. I was pretty much near the bottom. I remember trying to figure out why, and being told it was because I was a tomboy, and “didn’t even try to be pretty or act like a girl.”

I guess I was too busy, well, being me.

I was a late bloomer. Very late. All through school I was on the sidelines in the popularity stakes, mainly because I did my own thing and had my own interests. Girls weren’t supposed to do that. If you wanted to be popular, you had to focus your world around the guys. Everything had to revolve around them. And if you were better than them at anything, you really copped it hard.

There’s so much pressure on our kids – boys and girls – to behave certain ways, look certain ways, have certain interests. It seems to be getting worse. I worry about the effects porn will have on my kids as they move into their teenage years. How are they supposed to experiment safely with sex when there’s so much out there telling them what to do and how to do it? The world is a minefield.

But getting back to the clip above, yes, I remember the point at which I stopped trying. I remember the point at which I was told, in very strong social terms, that to try in sport was “lame” and “square” (the words of the era), and that I would certainly not be socially acceptable if I wanted to run well, throw well, play sport well.

I got over it. University was a blessing to me, because it was a world where doing our own thing was encouraged. I got right back into sport with a vengeance, and I haven’t looked back. More recently, I’ve got into weightlifting and bodybuilding, and I do things in the gym that are very “ungirly”. I lift more than most of the men at the gym, and I’m damn proud of that. I’ve earned my stripes.

I hope that my kids will be proud of who they are, and their interests, and their quirks. I hope they’ll learn that being a girl is a good thing, a powerful thing.

It’s time for change.

Child poverty, contraceptives and abortion: Hobby Lobby hypocrisy

Have you ever noticed how the people who are most vocally anti-abortion also seem to be the least likely to care about child poverty in their communities?

Sure, they’ll rant and rage over a bunch of cells when they’re inside a woman, and talk about the rights of the foetus, and do everything they can to destroy a woman’s rights. But what about those babies who are born, and living in poverty, and whose parents are struggling to feed them, clothe them, educate them?


Ah, well, they seem to be a different story.

I don’t take well to hypocrites. I also happen to be very strongly in favour of women’s rights, and in favour of bodily autonomy. Perhaps this post says it better than I can here:


But the hypocrisy is getting my goat right now. Take the Hobby Lobby, for instance. On the one hand, obstructing women’s access to contraceptives while on the other supporting, with practically every dollar they make, sweatshop practices that seem to be brutally at odds with the welfare of any children. Or adults.

Then there’s this:


I’m glad I live in New Zealand, where contraceptives are easily, cheaply available and no-one questions it. Where abortions are readily available and they’re nobody’s business but the woman’s and her doctor’s.

All women deserve these rights. We need to stand up against the hypocrites who think they have any sort of automatic access to our bodies and what we do with them, and tell that it’s not okay to tell us what to do. It’s never okay.

And, while we’re at it, how’s about those pesky hypocrites start paying attention to the children in poverty who really need their attention instead!


Rant over.