she has fallen and now she is awake

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what fuckery is this?

So today I was out and about and wandered past a chemist. They had bags out the front (the ‘enrivo’ bags made of unrecycleable plastic monstrosities) with the slogan ‘It’s all WHITE to say NO’.

I was…taken aback. To say the least. I stopped, I looked. I walked on. I went back.

How the HELL is this a good slogan against Child Sexual Abuse? How? What part of this makes sense?

The pitch with it is “Bravehearts encourages all Australians to purchase an official white balloon, or white balloon day enviro-bag from any Terry White Chemist and to wear white, the colour symbolising a child’s innocence – to show support for victims, help shift attitudes and break down the stigma and silence associated with child sexual assault.”

If it’s all ‘white’ to say no, that presumes it’s all ‘white’ to say yes. And places the fucking burden of not only dealing with the assault but also dealing with the presumed consent square on a child. Propositioning a child is not okay, they shouldn’t fucking HAVE to say no! How is this something that has become a slogan for a charity working against child sexual assault and abuse?

It’s bad enough that rape ‘awareness’ campaigns for adult women centre on ‘YOU make it stop’ but now kids are responsible for stopping it too?

I know, I know, it’s not meant that way. Pity about it coming across like that then…


Letter to Bunbun, on the occasion of her two hundred and sixty-third day of life


Family, originally uploaded by geekanachronism.

So. Today marks the day that you have been outside of me as long as you were inside. Give or take a few days at the beginning of course. We didn’t have a great day though – you’re tired and teething which means I’m tired and sore. So we had a pretty bad morning all round. I’m sorry that there are bad days now and days when I’m not as nice or fun as I wish I could be. I know that will always be the case though, so I just try to get through it. Read more of this post

Angry pants

I keep going to write a post, but end up writing something terribly cranky. Either railing against idiotic ‘sex advice’ that boils down to “buy stuff!!! Ignore comfort!!!” or the new years round of ‘let’s lose weight, fatty fat fat mamas!’. I was in fact complaining to Wolfman yesterday that everything I wrote came out far more “rar you’re all fuckheads” than “I am legitimately disturbed by these articles and blog posts”.

He wanted to know if I had indeed simply written ‘rar, you’re all fuckheads’.

It made me laugh (which was his original agenda I think) but also made me step back a bit. Rage is not in short supply. I don’t need to point out how irritating vapid and shallow ‘wear a thong’ is when you’re attempting to get back into having actual sex with your partner. I don’t need to point out that the societal obsession with mothers erasing all evidence of motherhood from their bodies is obnoxious and dangerous. You all get that. I simply need to breathe. Write. Breathe some more.

Osborne in training