Why I joined the Labour Party. January 20, 2010

Why I joined Labour isn’t an easy question to answer.  Why I vote Labour is far simpler.  I vote Labour because it’s the right thing to do.  I was always led to believe I was much more left wing than your average Labour member, but it wasn’t until my final few months at 6^th form that I realised I was being told this by people who hadn’t been anywhere near a political party in years, if ever, i.e.; social science teachers and fellow politics students.  Essentially, I was being deterred from Labour by people who studied the people at the top of political parties.  And we all know it’s not about them.

When I started campaigning with my local anti-racism group and a handful of other organisations, I found myself talking to real politicos, people with a genuine interest, the activists.  And sure enough the majority were left wing, and Labour supporters.  And they all hated Blair.  Whatever the good work he did, and he did do plenty, Blair has tainted the name of Labour amongst a lot on the left, as has the “New Labour” set up as a whole.  But spending increasing amounts of time on the doorstep for Hope Not Hate and the like, as well as settling down into the lefty Twitter crowd, it became quite clear that the rest of the party was not like that.  I still come across members who I think are in the wrong party, but it’s no longer the socialists, who are thankfully in the majority it seems.

I did join Socialist Students when I arrived at Hull, and I will no doubt continue to support them, largely because at the moment they’re the only student group doing anything to combat the BNP (and the National Front, who are depressingly over present in the area) and the only group besides the Women’s Society who seem to actively care about equality at the university.  But while I’m happy to work with them around the campus and even in the local area, the party is more or less futile at the moment.  There’s so much factionalism amongst the left in this country, every attempt at an alliance seems to fall through when someone refuses to compromise.  But someone wise once said ‘politics is the art of compromise’ and I’m happier to compromise with the middle ground than say, some of the lads I’ve met of late who advocate the “armed revolution”.  Side note, they’re far from representative of the Socialist Party and its members, but neither are the centrists of Labour, I’ve come to learn.

Not only that, when I do something, I like to do it ‘properly’.  That isn’t to say Labour supporting non-voters are of any less importance, far from it, I just like to go the whole hog.  Membership of anything doesn’t work for everyone, but it does for me.  I’m the sort of person who gets tired of sitting just outside a group, mainly because I feel less able to comment when I haven’t stuck my two penneth in at a practical level.

My family have always been Labour voters, my uncle was a Labour councillor in Blackpool until recently, and I know full well we would be far worse off under a Conservative government.

The fact is, Labour activists are some of the nicest people I’ve met, with some of the best opinions and finest arguments.  I am proud to be part of a party that fights for equality and has done so much good for this country.  I still maintain a healthy cynicism, no I do not worship the very ground Brown walks on, but yes I do think he should stay on as leader, for instance.  There are hundreds of reasons why I support Labour, but hopefully the decision to finally join the party will be a good one.  The future’s red, and I like it.  Here’s to the fight!

“Are you a faggot or a dyke?!” January 14, 2010

For the very first time today, I found myself frustrated by the absense of the letter “Q” in an acronym. It doesn’t take much deduction to work out that I am referring to LGBT, in this case the pang caused when I saw a tweet about LGBT Labour.

I know it seems petty, and I always thought it was, but, while there is no intention to exclude anyone, the slip of the “queer” does reflect a general ignorance of the queer community in wider society. Dozens of times I’ve had to explain my own sexuality and gender identity to people. Most assume I’m gay on first meeting me, when I say that I’m not, they jump to bisexual, should I stress that I’m not bi either, they then assume I’m straight and that they’ve insulted me horribley. I used to let it slide and settle for bi, but I’m proud of my sexuality as pansexual, and am now more than willing to spend time explaining it to those out of the loop. I’m fairly certain even my most liberal thinking of friends have had this conversation with me in the past. So no, I don’t call myself lesbian, gay or bisexual, thus I fall outside of your title.

Then there comes “T”. I’m not trans, but nor is my gender identity straightforward. The term is genderqueer and it’s another one I’ve had to explain often, usually when someone sees me binding and packing for the first time.

While it’s true that a sadly large proportion of the straight community is hostile to the LGBTQ community in some form, be it the homophobic, biphobic or transphobic, and this is why groups like this are so important, there is also a worrying amount of negativity within the queer community. Many gay people are biphobic and a fairly sizeable chunk of non-straight people are transphobic, and the same goes for reactions to pansexuals, genderqueers, asexuals and so on. In the USA there are Queer-Straight Alliances to fight inequality, which sound to me an excellent idea and definitely something we should try over here. But the recognition of the “Q” would be a good start.

So many organisations go to and fro about including “queer” (sometimes designated as questioning, though queer seems to cover that better). I’ve never entirely understood what the issue was. Talking to a friend of mine (@McWilloughby on Twitter), he suggested that “part of the problem is that people not in the know are too used to “queer” being a derrogatory term for a gay person.” I suspect he’s probably right, it’s another case of terms being hijacked as insults, as “gay” has been too. But it’s about time it was reclaimed. The most welcoming community I have ever been a part of, the Post Secret Community LGBTQ boards, have only added the “Q” in the past month or so, having been active for years. Many student groups still don’t have it, and neither do those attached to most political organisations. Though there is no harmful intention, if we really want equality, we must be completely inclusive. Alliances are the ideal, but in the meantime, let us queers join in too please.

The title of this post comes from Andrea Gibson’s poem, Swingset, which fairly accurately explains me, as it goes. http://genderkid.wordpress.com/2009/01/05/swingset/

Ohai Interwebs. Trust me. November 3, 2009

Everytime something emerges about teenagers and the internet or trust and the internet or social networking and life, I plan to write this blog. But everytime I get ridiculously angry and remember how horribley I tend to write when I’m fuming.

I’ve been using the internet increasingly regularly for years, and yes, throughout my teens. I’ve seen my share of the creepy cyber stalkers and not-necessarily-paedophiles-but-certainly-a-bit-pervy types appear on my Hotmail contacts out of nowhere. Although that’s not what this is about, that’s usually what people fear, so I thought I’d flag it up. I’ve encountered numerous, and they’ve never been subtle. Ever. It doesn’t take a great deal to spot them, and just as little effort and tech-savvy to hit the big “block” button on whatever service you’re using. Some people fall foul of this, obviously, but most will never have more than a few minutes of exchange with these people, probably accompanied by a friend laughing at the blatant idiocy of the other’s attempt to “corrupt” you or whatever.

Now I’ve never witnessed anyone first hand who’s been in anyway affected by what is so often termed “grooming” and I won’t even try to grasp that. But it could easily be considored similar to what I’m about to talk about, but I want to distinguish it completely, purely because I would be disgusted with my self if I associated the individual in my example with such lowlifes. No, this blog is about trust and internet friendships. I frequent a couple of forum, and on what particularly tight knit and open community, there was something of a drama this week when a regular poster revealed that they weren’t who they said they were. Personally, although I’d talked to them quite a few times and looked up to them, I wasn’t upset by this, for me it was simply a case of getting used to calling them a new name. But I was away from the forum for a while this year (coincidentally, this person was the one who brought me back to the community, too) and I missed the event that was causing a lot of people to be extremely upset about this revelation. This was the invention of a serious illness, for which many of the forum members had worried and fretted and sent their love to combat. When you’re part of a community founded on honesty and sharing secrets, this was a particularly hard hitting blow. A lot of individuals on the internet use false names, particularly somewhere like this forum where they fear being found by those who know them, as it often contains very sensitive personal information about the posters. But to cause people so much worry over something that was entirely fictional, that was undoubtedly a betrayal of trust, especially considoring how much those who this hurt had shared with the individual concerned.

So, here, on the one hand, it’s clear that there is a particularly strong risk on the internet of being mislead, in various forms.

However, what annoys me spectacularly, is when people generalise to assume that noone out there is to be trusted. For example, there was an instance recently of someone apparently high and mighty suggesting that parents should very carefully monitor who their children are talking to and what they’re saying. This is fine to a point. By child, I mean teenager, I wouldn’t make these suggestions of anyone younger than probably thirteen. But I’d like to use myself as the example here. I was a miserable teenager, completely. I was unpopular, lonely and nerdy. It took me ’till about 3 years ago to even begin to fit in anywhere and with anyone. But nor was I naiive, being the nerdy unpopular one naturally I had enough of a brain in my head to be wary of people I didn’t know. But for me the internet was a godsend. This came in a few forms. The Boomtown Rats forums, populated by middle-aged women who humoured my obsessive nature. The Stephen Fry forums, full of fluffettes who made me smile. But most importantly were the following: PSC, that is the Post Secret Community, where being free to vent, completely open, without risk of cruel judgement yet nonetheless honesty, is exactly what it’s about, and exactly what a lot of teenagers need; and James. Now, James has helped me a lot over the past few years, and is now one of my very very best friends, and so continues to do so. My ‘old’ friends are by now used to me referencing in the same way I would conversations with one of them, but whenever I’m getting to know new people and it arises that I’ve never actually met one of the three people I considor my best friends, I usually get one of a selection of in some way dissaproving expressions. It’s this sort of thing that irritates me. Largely because for starters I know him better than I’ll ever know any of them. I know who he is and I don’t need to prove that to someone who distrusts my judgement. But it’s that kind of reaction that frustrates me. The assumption that because there are some scumbags out there, noone is to be trusted. Admittedly, after week or so talking to someone online it’d be fairly moronic to meet them if you couldn’t be sure they were who they said they were, but once you get to know them, and you know that they’re someone you’d like to know, and that you can trust them sufficiently, there’s no reason why it can’t sensibly happen. This is coming from someone with a complete trust defficiency, perhaps why it’s only now, after over 2 years of knowing him that I’m actually going to meet James, and I can’t wait. Yet still some people raise an eyebrow at this notion, and then I have this rant and the accompanying “you want to know how I know I’m gonna be fine?!” list ramble that can accompany it right at them. But my point is this. It’s a matter of judgement. Like everything in life, and sometimes people get it wrong, but that doesn’t mean that the internet is evil, nor that people on the internet are bad people, it’s just the few exceptions that are going to get the attention compared to the billions of contented and ‘normal’ users. But I wish we could see it like that. Rather than looking at the exception, look at it and see the rule, see the positives. I’m sure everyone reading this blog can think of something good they’ve gained from their internet use. I’m not sure I would’ve passed through my teens so relatively uneventfully without the internet, and maybe you think that’s the wrong way to do it, but I was vastly running out of options, tracking down like minded folk online was one of the few I could stomach. I’m not sure where I’m going with this, it’s a mush of too many thoughts in one (and it’s gone half one in the morning) but I’ve been waiting to put some of these thoughts down for so long, I thought I finally would. Welcome to the internet, be nice.

Ringleader of the tormentors October 26, 2009

I want to talk about Morrissey. I get sudden bursts on inspiration to listen to Morrissey, and then find it takes me atleast a fortnight to move on to anything else. When his new album was released earlier this year, it took me two months to listen to anything else. I’m not even a die-hard Moz fan, though I think I may becoming one. I came to him late, admittedly, I even came to The Smiths late. Largely because I wasn’t around when they were, but most Smiths fans atleast discover them in the throws of puberty, not so much with me. Unfortunately, in my early teens I relied on either escapism or the completely unsubtle, certainly avoiding all things poetic. Moz didn’t really come into the equation untill I was about 16. Since then every few months I’ve had some kind of urge to blast him out and hide away in my room, or go for long walks in the dark with my headphones in. It’s a pathetic kind of self indulgence, but atleast that way I’m not inflicting the strange moods that usually accompany these occassions on anyone else. But everytime I listen to him, particularly if I watch him as well, the strength of feeling is as much as it was the first time I saw William, It Was Really Nothing on Top Of The Pops 2.

Yet I still don’t know why. I’m still not quite sure what it is that makes Morrissey so special. There’s definitely something, I just can’t put my finger on it. I get goosebumps whenever I see footage of grown men reaching out to hold his hand, or charging the stage for a fleeting hug. I can think of nothing else that can reduce even the apparently hardest of men to gibbering wrecks of emotion. It’s sort of beautiful.

I have a few semi theories about what it is that’s so appealling about Mozza, none of which are complete or all inclusive, admittedly. Firstly, Morrissey is often heard to say that he never “performs”, often to much scorn from whoever provoked the comment in the first place. But I really do think that’s true. Watching him, it’s not really a performance, I don’t think he’d ever let himself ‘perform’ as such. It just isn’t in his nature.

Connecting to that, I think he’s painfully honest, which I like. He has a sense of humour found in a lot of northeners, particularly Mancunian men. It’s dry and slightly cruel, and a lot of people don’t get it straight away, but that means that when you do, it’s that bit more appealling.

One of the most obvious reasons that he’s so endearing, is that his music has always been incredibly emotional and atleast apparently personal. To hear that from his quirky, nerdy looking self in his Smiths days, or from his relatively typical (if considerably more handsome than most) older self now, are both so different to the type of musician you’d normally hear such heartfelt howls from. As well as that, he’s pretty outspoken, and will undoubtedly make his feelings known to you. Whether you agree with his beliefs or not, the fact that he holds them so strongly and will fight for them, that’s so rare from anyone in the public eye these days that it’s hard not to feel warmed.

When I heard that Morrissey had collapsed on stage in Swindon on Saturday night I was terrified. I was immediately thinking that I hadn’t had enough time with him, despite the fact that his music will live on long after him, and also that I’ve still not had the chance to see him live, one of my goals for the next few years. Thankfully, he seems to be on the road to recovery. The world is not ready to live without him just yet, it seems.

Why Cracked is wrong to think it sucks to be a Whedon fan October 24, 2009

Last week I read this article, giving 5 reasons it apparently sucks to be a Joss Whedon fan.  I agreed with it at first, but soon lost my patience.  Here’s why.

“#5. He will slaughter everything that makes you happy inside”

This one I agree is true, but not necessarily why it sucks.  We all enjoy those films and programmes that tear us up inside, it’s a strange pleasure, but an undeniable one.  The episode of Buffy in which Jenny Calendar is horribley murder, thus devastating one of my favourite TV characters of all time, Rupert Giles, is still one of my favourite episodes.  The writer nullifies his own point by saying he enjoys it occassionally but sometimes just wants something meaningless and cheery.  Well that’s it, isn’t it?  It does only happen occassionally.  He’s not just killing them all off willy nilly, he waits for the perfect moment, thus I don’t think I’ve ever been disappointed with a Whedonverse death.  Gutted, ripped up, devastated, but never disappointed.

“#4. This whole feminist empowerment thing smells fishy”

This one really annoyed me.  The writer narrowed it down to the moments when the women in Buffy are broken over a boy.  Yes, that’s not very feminist, anyone can concede, but it’s realistic.  If Buffy spent the whole time kicking serious ass throughout high school, college and the life afterwards we see, but never once suffered any kind of romance related heartache, particularly considoring being the slayer is bound to fuck someone up pretty badly in their teens, and that she’s beautiful and athletic, thus likely to be quite the object of admiration for males in the area, it would be completely unbelievable.  Some of the most powerful moments, the most touching moments, the funniest moments, come from the strengths of the relationships between characters.  That can’t always be friendships and father figures, sometimes it has to be simple romance.

But that would only detract from the blatant feminist element if the men weren’t suffering too.  The men in the Whedonverse are just as messed up by love as the women, often more so.  Angel lost his soul, Oz wolfed out, Spike endured violent trials to regain his soul, Billy accidentally killed the love of his life, Captain Hammer went from hero to sobbing on a therapists chair, allbeit comedically.  I could drag this list on and on.  But the point is, Whedon writes fantasy, yes, but he also writes realism.  It’s those two things combined that make him genius.

“#3. Nothing bad is ever Whedon’s fault”

This is really part one.  This is Whedon himself avoiding taking the blame.  But what does the writer expect?  People are rarely content to take the blame, and who happily would take the blame for Alien 4?  Really, you don’t want to get involved with the mess that is that film, never mind say “yes, ok, I cocked up big time,” when instead you can just let it be swept under the rug, only to be dragged up once in a blue moon to prove that even the great can fail.

“#2. Seriously, it’s never Whedon’s fault”

I got distracted while trying to analyse this because the first thing the writer references is one of my favourite terrible lines in cinema history.  That’s the line from the first XMen movie, when Storm is getting her fiesty on, about to zap Toad, and utters the immortal and overdramatic line, “Do you know what happens to a toad when it gets struck by lightening?  The same thing that happens to everything else.”  It’s diffuclt to take on the rest of this section when you can’t stop giggling.

But then the writer says “Joss was coming up with new ways to get hot female co-stars to make out with each other onscreen (for feminism, of course.)” and I want to punch him breifly.  Actresses are hot because that’s showbusiness, is it not?  Nauseatingly, the writer then assumes that everybody perves about lesbianism as much as he presumably does.  Give it a rest.

Then he lays in to Dollhouse.  Dollhouse isn’t crap.  Dollhouse does have a crappy timeslot.  Even if it didn’t, I doubt it’d get the ratings it deserved, great things often go unnoticed by so many, and it’s hardly a show that’s easy to dip in and out of if you hadn’t tuned in from the beginning.  Once again he belittles Eliza Dushku’s acting skills.  Which is just tripe, she’s a very good actress, better than several of the people I can currently see parading on my screen while my dad watches “Emma” (good film, but some seriously bad delivery going on here, but I sidetrack).  Perhaps someone is just sad that they’ll never get that close to such a beautiful creature.  Maybe I’m being presumptuous again.

“#1. His most vocal fans are fucking assholes”

Firstly, this isn’t a problem for being a fan, more a problem if you happen not to be.  Second, this applies to anything.  The “most vocal” fans of anything are arseholes, that’s why they’re the vocal ones in the first place.  It’s hardly Whedon’s fault either, simply the obsessiveness and defensiveness of certain human beings.  He seems annoyed that they discuss Whedon online, that some of them write fanfic or bad art, and so on and so forth, but is this really affecting him?  If so, he should really stay away from the online communities that make him so cross.  It really isn’t hard.  I know I’ll have no difficulty at all avoiding his posts in the future.

And so we wait…. October 22, 2009

Tonight is the night that’s been speculated, postulated, argued and whimpered about ever since it was first announced.  Tonight we get the unbridled joy of Nick Griffin on BBC Question Time.  I’m thinking of taking bets on how long before Twitter crashed.  And how long before I break something.  I must clear the area of all valuables before kick off.  I often forget how angry he makes me, then, just when I let my guard down, up he crops and I find myself purple with fury.

Tonight could go one of several ways, and whichever it is there’s no doubt going to be a certain amount of ”I told you so” nonsense from either the pro or anti platform camps, but I really wish we’d stop fighting about that.  We shouldn’t have bothered in the first place, whether it’s helpful or not, arguing about it certainly isn’t, the focus should be on making the most out of this event.  Griffin is going to be prepped to the eyeballs, and making a fool out of him should be harder than usual, though admittedly most days it can take only a handful of words to do so.  The panel is depressingly average, but hopefully still sufficient to get the job done.  I suppose only time will tell.

Obviously I’ll be blogging afterwards, no doubt in varying degrees of anger, and tweeting throughout, though I can’t vouch for my spelling under stress.  Next Wednesday Hull Socialist Students, of which I am a part, will be holding an open discussion to reflect on tonight’s goings on, with representatives from within and outside the party speaking.  If you happen to be at Hull, come down and stick your two-penneth in, I’m sure you’ll be seeing some of our flyers with more details on Monday anyway.

In the meantime, let me quickly copy and paste what I sent to the Hope Not Hate campaign to send messages to Question Time, which will be delivered this evening.

“The BNP and their ilk have spent so much time of late telling us that “patriotism isn’t racism,” but what they’re promoting has nothing to do with real patriotism. While of course patriotism is not racism, racism isn’t patriotism either, nor is any of the other biggotry promoted by this party. While the BNP fight to divide us in any way they can, spreading fear and hate, we must stand by our belief in hope, and remember what real patriotism is. I know exactly why I love my country. I love my country for it’s diversity, it’s tolerance, it’s freedom of expression. And yes, that does include the BNP’s freedom of expression. However low they may sink, they still have the right to think it, and even say it, but when it starts to ruin the freedom of others, through hate and violence, and the thuggery we see from the likes of the EDL and we saw during the Oldham riots, then a line has been crossed. The BNP cross that line almost everytime they speak. Inviting them on to Question Time will no doubt make “good TV” and I’m sure the ratings will soar, but it is a risky and wrong thing to do if Griffin is allowed to perpetuate the hatred his party propels.I can only hope Nick Griffin’s appearance exposes him for the bigotted disgrace he is. I for one am ashamed to be represented by him when at home, and Andrew Brons when at university, and the Not In My Name campaign showed that thousands of people felt just the same.

I believe in a Britain of diversity, not division. Hope, not hate.”

Hope

I Keep Faith. October 12, 2009

There are plenty of songs that mean a lot to me.  Most on a very personal level, and most relating to very specific events.  One song that has encompassed several such events and consequently has several times the importance of most, is I Keep Faith by Billy Bragg.

You can see Billy perform it here, if you’re curious as to what I’m harping on about: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1tuQ8wKZrY

It’s his latest single off his most recent album, Mr Love & Justice.  The first time I heard it, I got shivvers when he hit the line “all the dreams we shared, I never knew noone who cared about these things, the way that I’ve seen you.”  This has long been exactly how I feel about Billy himself, particularly as I’d struggled to get actively involved in politics for various reasons, until relatively recently, the sum of my actions being the odd protest here and there, until I managed to fall in with the right people and groups, and found my place.  But at the time it felt like just me and Bragg against the world sometimes, which has it’s benefits.  Even now, I get goosebumps when I hear that line.

After I’d listened to it a few times with this in mind, I also found that it made me think about PSC.  PSC stands for Post Secret Community.  PostSecret is a community art project on the web, where people send postcards to an amazing man called Frank Warren, with a short secret written on it, usually over a relevant picture.  It’s a clever little idea, and can be genuinely moving and often funny, too.  The community is a series of forums where people discuss the secrets, their secrets, and generally help each other out.  It’s an amazing place, with some amazing people.  Different areas have helped me with a variety of things over the past few years, from my reluctance to grow up to grappling with my sexuality, and it continues to be my first port of call when I need to panic things out before I act.  It’s a strong community, and various little snippets of the lyrics reminded me of specific events in people’s lives there too.  So I sent the lyrics and a link round to as many members as I could one evening, and got some amazing responses, and several people crying when they listened to it.  So I Keep Faith has also served to remind me of the wonderful people of PSC, and the amazing Frank Warren, as well.

Eventually, I did get to see him perform it live.  It was the night of the London Mayoral Elections, and just after it was announced that the bumbling eejit Boris Johnson had been victorious, Bragg made a fantastic speech about fighting back the “blue tide” as it washes over us.  Not far behind, was a rendition of I Keep Faith.  Thus, this time it took on the mantel of keeping back the waves of Conservatism heading our way.

The second time I heard him perform it live, he preceeded it with an explanation of how it had nothing to do with religious faith, religion being something I’ve spent many hours toying with and mulling over, and so I was reminded of something my dad always tells me when I’m thinking about these things.  My dad’s a religious man, not deepl, but basely, but he’d never push it.  Whenever we discuss it, he explains it as as good a reason as any to be good, but that his left leanings lead him to believe that human beings are basically good people, and so should largely act morally as it is.  So the faith I’ve always had hasn’t necessarily been in any god, but rather in my fellow humans, and that was basically the point Bragg made that night.

I heard him play it live most recently in Salford Transport & General Workers Union for those of us Hope Not Hate activists who had spent the morning leafletting the area prior to the upcoming European Elections.  It was one of those moments and feelings you just don’t forget.  That whole hour, sitting feet from my hero, covered in newsprint, exhausted and bleary eyed, taking as many photos as posisble to lap up the moment, was perfect for me.  So to hear the song that has inspired me in so many ways yet again, in the context of the campaign that I feel most strongly about, was very powerful, once again.

So that’s I Keep Faith, and my experience of it.  A song that encompasses my hero, my closest friends, my beliefs and several crucial moments in my life, and yet can still be listened to innocently and enjoyed as simpley a good piece of music.  Bless you, Billy!

Shamelessly over emotional hero worship, coming right up. October 12, 2009

I have tried so many times to explain to people what it is about Billy Bragg that I adore so. And what exactly it is he does make me feel, what he inspires in me. Some people share it, to an extent, but most just don’t see it. I’m going to try and do it again. Kind of.

Rarely a day goes by when I don’t listen to atleast one Bragg song. But that’s just enjoying the music, of course. But probably once every week or so I’ll be listening to something of his, or watching a video recording, and the hairs on the back of my neck will stand up, my stomach will flip, I’ll get that feeling in my chest that signifies some kind of love, or I’ll find myself in tears. Whenever this happens, I want to tell the world about it. It happened just now, watching a piece of footage I’d only seen once before of Bragg performing in Belgium in the late 80s. My immediate response? Tweet the link, and try to blog.

I’ve tried this blog so many times. I should be sleeping now, I have an early lecture, but I’m feeling determined, don’t want to waste it.

Bragg has always been there, flashbacks to my childhood tend to include my dad wailing “Shirley!” while doing the washing up. Kirsty Maccoll was adored for her version of A New England, and amongst the few surviving records by the player was a copy of Life’s A Riot With Spy VS Spy. But I really got into him in my early teens, when I started to become politically aware. Before then he was just another artist that I quite liked that my parents had listened to, like The Clash or James. But I found that I had about 5 songs of his on my Walkman. One was To Have and Have Not, which fitted perfectly with my teenage mindset at the time. Another was Waiting For The Great Leap Forward, which I still find to be an anthem of my beliefs, in all it’s incarnations. I listened to those 5 songs over and over again on my way to and from school for weeks. Eventually, I managed to unnearth another three or four of his albums, and the more I listened, the more I realised I agreed with everything he was saying politically.

Not only that, however. Bragg’s love songs are just as fantastic. I was a teenage girl lurking around on the outskirts of the outcast kids in high school. Thus, my friends were listening to a mix of pop-punk and ‘emo’ most of the time. Admittedly, there were a few I quite liked, like Taking Back Sunday, but mostly I didn’t really get it. I’ve always been a bit wary and neauseated by the over-the-top poetic ramblings in most love songs, prefering a more realistic sentimentality. And that’s exactly what Bragg offered me then, and continues to now.

I could talk about Bragg for hours, I really could. I think the first time I saw him he was supporting The Pogues at the GMex in Manchester. I remember skanking to Sexuality with a group of very pretty girls. That remains one of the best gigs I have ever been to, despite the agony resultant from leaping around with too many large Pogues fans. That was in the early days of my Bragg discovery though, I think. The first time I saw him and felt that swell of inspiration that I’ve never felt from anyone before or since (even Bob Geldof) was at Liverpool Philharmonic about 2 years ago. Every song manipulated my emotions in some way. I find that a lot with Bragg. He holds an accute power over my emotions. There are three Bragg songs that I know will make me cry everytime. The Only One, Everywhere and Tank Park Salute. A friend once drunkenly serenaded me with The Only One, and I had to hold back the sobs, That night in Liverpool, Bragg played Tank Park Salute. It was just me and my dad, and he put his arm around my shoulder. I had to stare intently onwards so as not to give the game away. That’s the only time I’ve heard him play it live, and I’m not sure whether I’m glad or sad about that.

I had an amazing 24 hours back in May this year, I think the 22nd and the 23rd, hard to remember. On the Friday night, I was supposed to be at my 6th form leavers’ ball, but instead, me and my best friend Amee headed to The Picket in Liverpool for Writing on the Wall festival. Attila the Stockbroker, David Rovics and Alun Parry all played, and were absolutely fantastic. But, as expected, Bragg was the most powerful. Standing at the front of that strange little club with the most important girl in my life, watching my hero, with my dad not far behind, that was a far better night than any ball. I love to find myself surrounded by ageing folk fans and lefties, and Bragg gigs are the ideal place for this. I got home close to 2am, after driving round Liverpool in search of sustenance on a hero based high.

The following morning I crawled out of bed and prodded my dad into giving me a lift into Salford, having promised I’d go and help hand out some Hope Not Hate newspapers, it being less than two weeks before the European Elections. I’m not sure I have ever been so tired as blundering around those streets in the sunshine, but it was a good morning and we got a lot of papers out, and I only got one serious bit of abuse, which was easy enough to handle. Some food was being put on in the Union, so I headed back after a few hours for some food, and was told that Bragg would be showing up and playing a little acoustic set. This made the exhaustion doubley worth it. Needless to say, he was brilliant, I could’ve stayed there for hours, and hearing a few dozen worn out activists singing the Internationale was fantastic. I still wish I’d waited around and talked to him, but I completely fear that I’ll make an arse out of myself. One day, I’ll do it, I’ll regret it if I don’t.

I still don’t know how to describe the effect Bragg has on me. I once wrote on a picture secret I made for PostSecret simply “His passion is beautiful” and I still think that’s the best way I’ve found to but it yet. It is, and much though I generally hate fauning and adoring, when it comes to the Bard of Barking, I just can’t help myself.

I’ll leave it at that, so there you have it. Billy Bragg. Sadly, the love of my life!

A Long Time Coming October 5, 2009

Ladies and gents, I have been meaning to write this blog for so damn long. I always put it off because it means watching more Nick Griffin. But seeing as I’ve been exposed to plenty this evening, why not finish it off? This will generally take the form of me trying not to get too angry I suppose. For some reason, this interview didn’t get a lot of coverage, well, probably because it wason Russia TV, but it was filmed at the BNP’s Red, White & Blue Festival in August, and is quite interesting to see Griffin being interviewed by someone from outside Britain, who hasn’t necessarily been subject to the same level of coverage about them as journalists here have.

Unfortunately, the sound is a bit out of sync, but nonetheless.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlOUaqkGzJ8

Note how he immediately seeks to blame “the liberal elites” for the BNP’s failure to find support?

I truly hate how he always dregs up ‘political correctness’. In fact, I’m going to end this blog with a thought on that from someone more articulate than me, but more of that later.

Ok, so, point that got me particularly riled number one. The references to “our ways”. Who is to decide what are “our ways”? Massive amounts of even what Griffin would claim as the “indigenous white” population hold different values or beliefs about various things, as a product of class, or experience, or any number of things. He always stresses that it should be complete assimilation, but that to me sounds like an impossible ideal, people will never be that similar, no matter where they’re from, and I for one am glad of that.

“Our country is full, shut the doors!” There’s a space next to me, come on in, I’ll budge up if you like?

Once again, he tried to distance himself from the National Front and the EDL. We’ve all seen the picture of his time in the NF, and we’ve all seen the influence the BNP can have on militant offshoots when it likes. The fact remains, whether the current BNP leadership tries to distance itself from these groups or not, the overlap of BNP supporters and those joining such ‘organisations’ is still substantial, and these are ultimately the people who will have a say in the future of the party.

He also says something along the lines that there are elements of Muslim youth that can be extreme and violent. Yes, we know that, but there are elements of white youth, and indeed adults, who can be similarly vicious, take the spark for the Oldham riots, the recent attack on Muslim graves in South Manchester, numerous accounts of discrimination and derogatory language, and racist attacks and murders. I’m more afraid of them.

Then there’s a healthy dollop of paranoia, when he suggests that the British establishment are allowing these extremists groups to protest in order to blame whites for tensions. I think we all know this is nonsense. Griffin seems to be living under this image of a establishment that is not in fact comprised of human beings, but is just one enormous, oppressive entity. The fact that it is made up of people, mostly liberal in some form, and thus genuinely opposed to such disgusting exploitation, seems to have slipped his mind.

Then we have a moment where we can all laugh along. “Someone did throw a drink over me, it’s very unusual, they usually want to buy me a pint.” AHAHA. No further comment.

He then goes on to say that the man who threw a pint over him was restrained by two regional officers, “both of whom are disabled.” I’m sorry, what? Pray tell what does that have to do with anything? This does not lessen the case for whether the man was attacked or not, if they restrained him they could clearly do worse, it is genuinely irrelevant whether they were suffering from a disability or not.

“There are organisations out there, mainly organised by the Labour Party.” Once again we hit a nub. I have been to various meetings and demonstrations, with various anti-BNP and anti-racist organisations, in various parts of the country, and although the majority are usually left wing, they are rarely if ever tied to the Labour Party. I think the fact that they are largely left wing simply owes to the nature in which the BNP is usually tackled, but this is another blog entirely.

“The main parties have drastically failed the people of this country.” Now, in my lecture today we briefly discussed the use of the word “crisis” in a lot of the tabloid press and so on. This is not entirely unlike that. They have obviously failed in some aspects, but not drastically. Look at this country, it is a beautiful, tolerant place to be most of the time, despite the recession we remain relatively affluent, even though some describe this recession as worse than that post-war, we are stable enough not to have to resort to rationing, for instance. That would be verging on drastic failure, but the majority of people in this country have had to make what in the grand scheme of things are quite minor adaptations. This is not drastic, by anyone’s standards.

“Even if people don’t necessarily agree with our cause, they respect the fact that we’re in it for a cause.” I’m sorry, Nick, but I just don’t, not this cause. I respect everybody, at the offset, absolutely everybody, but the judgement I pass on you as heading a racist and bigotted party is based in clear evidence, and I can never respect any person, any party, any cause, that holds such dispicable and heartless beliefs.

Now, for that comment on political correctness. One of my favourite pieces on the matter comes from one of my all time favourite poets, probably second only to John Cooper Clarke and perhaps even pushing past Benjamin Zephaniah, Attila the Stockbroker. The poem is called Use of English, and I shall type it bellow, but visit http://www.attilathestockbroker.com to read more, find tour dates, buy stuff. Believe me, it’s worth it, the man’s a genius, particularly on a stage.

So here it is, Use of English, by Attila the Stockbroker:

“The phrase ‘politically correct’
is not at all what you’d expect.
But how has it been hijacked so?
I’m going to tell you, ‘cos I know.

You’d think it should mean kind and smart
Radical and stout of heart
A way of living decently.
Well, so it did, till recently.

And then some cringing, nerdy divs
Sweaty, misogynistic spivs
Sad, halitosis-ridden hacks
all wearing lager-stained old macs
with spots and pustules and split ends
and absolutely zero friends
(Yes, living, breathing running sores:
The right wing press’s abject whores)
Were all told, by their corporate chiefs
To rubbish decent folks’ beliefs
To label with the phrase ‘P.C’
All that makes sense to you and me
And write off our progressive past.
Their articles came thick and fast
The editors gladly received them
and loads of idiots believed them.

You’ll find that most who use the term
Will only do so to affirm
Sad, bigoted, outdated views
they’ve swallowed via the Murdoch news.”

Young & Warm & Wild & Free October 1, 2009

Sexuality.

Your laws do not apply to me.

In the words of the great Billy Bragg.

I’ve thought a lot about gender and sexuality recently, largely due to my increased prescense on the PostSecret Community LGBT forums again. I’ve tackled the subject of gender and gender identity thousands of times in thousands of ways, but I’ve never really discussed sexuality in any blog, vlog or essay before.

Maybe I should start with saying that I’m pansexual. I’ve heard this defined in numerous ways, eached tweaked to its owner, but for me, in the shortest form, I’d say that to me, gender is irrelevant. I find manly men attractive, I find feminine girls attractice, I find butch girls attractive, I find effeminate men attractive, I find androgynous and trans people attractive. It doesn’t matter the content of their underwear. After all, no one can say who they’re going to fall for.

I do tend to announce myself as bi when asked, however, simply to avoid having to give such an explanation, and there isn’t a vast difference between the two in the first place. So although I respect and to some extent understand people who are exclusively straight or gay, I don’t completely grasp it. My respect is higher for those who are out as gay simply because they have had to go against societies norms to reach that conclusion and become comfortable in themselves, but either way, any sexuality is valid.  That’s not to say I don’t respect straight people either, of course I do, particularly those who have genuinely thought about their sexuality.  People are people, no matter what.

On those rare occassions I find myself being “chatted up” and my sexuality is questioned, I tend to get a little frustrated. There are a millions reasons why I find you unattractive (or maybe attractive) but your trouser furniture is never going to be one of them.

Really, I long for a day when parents aren’t alarmed to hear their children are gay, or straight, but for people to be able to bring home whoever, and they be judged on their personality and character, not the duo’s genders. The same goes for style and looks. It would be fantastic to see people wearing whatever they wanted, because they feel comfortable in it or because it looks good on them, regardless of it’s percieved gender relation. We assigned them in the first place, we can still take them away.

Nor is there anything ‘wrong’ about being gay, bi, pan, whatever. Yes, you can choose who you sleep with, but you can’t choose you fall in love with.