Nimue Brown's Blog, page 102

The Power of Absence

It’s all too easy not to realise what you aren’t seeing. I grew up with stories about kind and helpful little girls who were neat and good. All of the wild adventurers of my childhood stories were boys. All of the pirates and scientists were boys. I could have done with knowing about Mary Read, and Mary Anning at the very least.

It’s still the case that the odds of finding a film or series with an all male cast is far higher than finding an all female cast in anything. I seek out authors from diverse backgrounds, but mainstream publishing remains so white and middle class and much of it doesn’t speak to me. There’s a lot more queer representation than there used to be, but I grew up with nothing on that score. I grew up not having the words for the person I was, and having no maps or stories for how to move through the world as me.

Things are improving. Female people get to actually do things in stories more of the time rather than just being victims, motivation sources and prizes. I have seen nonbinary representation. There’s precious little polyamorous content. What’s most lacking is the content that isn’t about the struggle of being different – so often what mainstream publishers want from diverse people is basically their story of what a hard time they’ve had being diverse – stories of racism, of prejudice, of coming out. Not stories where diverse people get to do interesting things while being themselves. 

I see a lot of talk about this online from authors with all kinds of backgrounds who would like to write escapism and fantasy that comes from their own needs and preferences regarding fun things. It’s depressing not being allowed to do that, and not having those stories to read. Of course anyone who wants to write about their struggles should be supported in doing so, but that’s not what happens, often it’s the only thing people who are ‘diverse’ are allowed to write, and that’s so problematic in so many ways. 

Men Are Not Invading Women’s Spaces

One of the things the terfs/gender criticals are banging on about at the moment is the idea that trans women are men who want to invade women’s spaces. I’ve been trying to think of an example of cis men invading female spaces, and it isn’t easy, Boys running into the girl’s toilets on dares at school being the only example I’ve encountered.

In my experience, men who support women treat women in toilets and changing rooms respectfully. Men who are into the patriarchy and who are doing the toxic masculinity tend to have a horror of anything feminine. They don’t want to be seen as girly, or effeminate, so anything labelled ‘women’ is likely to make them flee.

The men who do not like women tend to deride women’s spaces. They won’t invade it, but they may try and get it defunded, or treat it as a joke. Look at what happens around sport. The worst of them have no interest in invading the space, but they may not want the space to exist. Protecting the rights of women to participate can mean defending spaces/activities, not from invasion but from destruction.

Patriarchal approaches have always denigrated women’s spaces. Any work that seems feminine is treated as lesser. And so the kitchen, the nursery and the sick room are places the more toxic men don’t want to go. By staying out of these spaces and designating them as ‘for women’ they also dodge a great deal of domestic and caring work, which tends to be tedious, and arduous stuff with a side-order of massive responsibility for keeping people alive.

The only men I’ve seen wanting to enter these ‘female’ spaces weren’t there as ‘invaders’ but to tackle the evils of gender stereotypes and to do something good. Men who go into nursing, and who undertake to teach children. Men who get into kitchens to do the everyday work of making a household viable. Men who don’t see a relationship between cleaning, and genitals.

We have longstanding problems with the devaluing of anything considered feminine. We have a history of treating some spaces as feminine in a way that harms women, and puts the burden of unpaid domestic labour onto the shoulders of women. Once again I think what we have here is ‘gender critical’ people focusing on a non-existent problem that allows them to attack trans women. It takes attention away from real issues, from actual sexism and from the kind of harm that sexism routinely causes.

As a female appearing person (I’m nonbinary, but you can’t tell by looking) I don’t want to be pushed into the limiting take on ‘female’ spaces. I’ve had those experiences. I don’t want to be sent off to look after the children, or make the tea, I want just as much right to be in the spaces where other things are happening as anyone male-presenting has. And while we’re at it, I want there to be male teachers of small children, and male nurses, and cleaners and all the rest of it. I want to dismantle the idea that certain kinds of spaces, and certain sorts of jobs should be for one gender only. The idea that we need to keep men out of ‘female spaces’ is more likely to disempower women than keep anyone safe. 

We all need safe spaces to pee, and to change for sports activities. I want cubicles. I find that lockable doors answer all my safety needs. I also want dads to be able to take their kids into changing rooms and toilets.

Privilege and slavery

The language of slavery is something to be incredibly careful with. It’s not something to use casually, or as a metaphor. It’s really not ok to describe things as slavery that really definitely aren’t slavery – doing so undermines the meaning of the word, which in turn may cause people to take the whole idea less seriously. 

It’s important to talk about historical slavery and the ongoing impact that has in the world – both for those who remain disadvantaged and damaged by its impact on their ancestors, and for those who continue to benefit from the profits their families made. 

There are other historical, oppressive systems that were horrible – indentured servitude being an obvious case in point. It’s not equivalent to Black experiences of slavery in America and people who want to talk about it on those terms often have a racist agenda, so it’s worth being clear that these are not the same thing. If a person who has entered this kind of contract is constantly facing new debt sources so that they can never escape from their ‘employer’ then we’re looking at something a lot closer to slavery. Very bad working conditions are not the same as slavery, but both historically and in the present there are those who truly push those lines.

Modern slavery exists and is defined in terms of being forced to do unpaid work. This often goes alongside human trafficking and organised crime. People who aren’t legally in a country, and who have no recourse to support are exploited hideously. I will never forget the Chinese cockle pickers in Morecambe bay who died in 2004, killed for someone else’s profits. Disregard for life is one of the hallmarks of slavery. 

There is a grey area when it comes to people who are forced, through poverty into work that pays them so poorly they can never escape from it and that compromises their health – to a potentially fatal degree. A risky job where efforts are made to protect you is entirely different. However, if you could change job, if you have prospects, if you aren’t at risk of death then ‘wage slave’ isn’t a good term to use. Being trapped in oppressive capitalism is vile, but it isn’t slavery. Being owned by a company or a person so that you can only do what they permit you to do in all aspects of your life, is slavery. If you can choose, and if you can leave, you aren’t a slave.

Most importantly on the personal level, we need to stop describing ourselves as ‘slaving’ over things. We aren’t. Plenty of other, better language exists to describe hard work, considerable effort, personal suffering and discomfort. If what we’re talking about looks at all like a first world problem, a middle class problem, or a minor discomfort alongside our privilege, we should not be describing it in terms of slavery at all.

At the red spring

We went to Glastonbury!

I hadn’t been to Glastonbury in more than ten years, even though I’m in the southwest of the UK. It’s not an easy place to reach without a car, and I really don’t travel well on buses. It was lovely to see the town. I’d never been to Chalice Well Gardens before, either. While visiting the gardens it became obvious that there was no way my beleaguered body was going up the tor, and so I stayed and contemplated and engaged with the water and wondered about the reputed healing properties of the red spring.

I was struck by the differences and similarities between tourists and pilgrims. Some people were clearly there for spiritual purposes, quietly doing their own thing. Some were clearly tourists, there to look and take photos – and in some cases allowing their children to undertake noisy and inappropriate rampages. Sometimes the people who appeared to be there as tourists were clearly moved by the place. Sometimes the people who looked like pilgrims turned out to be much more interested in taking photos.

Sitting beside the waterfall for an extended period, I had the opportunity to contemplate a lot of things, including how people engage with places and how easily spirituality becomes performance art. I compared the more elaborate and costumed actions undertaken for a camera, with the quiet reverence of people who looked like tourists but chose to bodily engage with the water. 

I’m very much in favour of sharing beauty. Taking photos for the internet is a reliable way of doing that. But at some point, the photoshoot starts to be more important than the ritual, if you aren’t careful. Trying to look good for the camera can really get in the way of doing anything substantial. There’s a huge temptation around going to special places and wanting to come back with a dramatic story, a revelation and some really attractive photos.

So I sat in the gardens for a few hours, and thought about iron and water, ideas of femininity, how people relate to places and what I might need on my own personal journey. I’m not good at big revelations, but I am good at being present to what’s happening around me.

So here’s a photo of me when I wasn’t in a deep state of contemplation and was still doing a lousy job of looking glamorous!

The trouble with series

Committing to a series is a risk. Sometimes the creator dies before it’s finished, or loses interest and gives up. Sometimes the creator isn’t capable of handling the setup in a satisfying way, or turns out to be awful in some unexpected fashion. Sometimes the whole thing gets cancelled and there’s no proper conclusion. Sometimes the thing is so successful that people keep making new instalments long after they’ve run out of ideas and it all gets a bit sad and repetitive. You’ve been there. We’ve all been there.

However, if people don’t take a risk on a series, you can be sure it won’t work out. Publishers ditch authors with low sales. Netflix cancels shows that merely do ok. It’s incredibly frustrating for audiences and creators alike.

Which leads me round to the Hopeless, Maine graphic novel series I’ve been working on for the past ten years or so. It was written with a plot arc from the start. While I’ve tinkered with that, it’s basically the story I intended to tell all along. We had a false start with a crappy American publisher who messed us about a lot. However, we’ve got a secure home with Sloth Comics, and a strong relationship with Outland Entertainment who are doing hardcover editions. The penultimate book came out with Sloth this year, and we’re talking about 2023 for the final instalment.

That final instalment is most of the way to done and handed in. Over-penciling, scanning and doing the lettering remains. These are the smaller jobs. And then it’s done, the series is finished and the story is complete. If you were wondering about having a look but don’t enjoy the uncertainty attendant on reading a series, I think it’s safe to say that this is no longer an issue for Hopeless, Maine graphic novels.

This is the last graphic novel we’re going to do. It’s a labour intensive form, and doesn’t give us much time for anything else. We want to explore other kinds of storytelling more – in film, on stage and on paper. It’s not the end of the Hopeless, Maine project, but my intention from here is that everything we do should stand alone so that you don’t have to have read the whole thing to have a shot at it.

Listen to the silence

We are trying not to be silent, but you insist on drowning out our voices by telling stories about us. You do not listen, because you think you know who we are and what we did and how we live.

We scream, and you pat us on the head, one by one, saying ‘Never mind, dear’ and ‘don’t make such a fuss about it, you’re being very silly.’

We aren’t real to you, and you have a hard time thinking of us as people. As people who are outside your head and your experience, and who do not feel things in the way you think we should feel.

We are not your story. 

What choice did you give us? We did not ask for any of this, and we tried to explain. We tried to make you understand. We fought the hunger until it became impossible to control it, and all the time we wondered why we were fighting so hard for your sake when you would not listen.

If you had listened, we might never have eaten you.

And it seems unfair to us that we now feel guilty about your exposed bones.

(While we’ve been doing some art/tiny flash fiction things on Facebook, this is the first more involved piece I’ve done with Dr Abbey in ages. His image, my words.)

The less charming dawn chorus

At this time of year, I’m often woken by the dawn chorus. It’s a beautiful sound. Usually. All those songbirds singing their little hearts out to welcome the sun – what’s not to like? Except not all dawn choruses are that melodious.

Back when I lived on a boat, I was sometimes treated to a seagull dawn chorus in Gloucester. No one could accuse seagulls of having beautiful voices. Their cries are raucous, and also very loud – especially when inside a boat and directly underneath them. Being woken from sleep by what sounds like a horde of furious dinosaurs was not my favourite nature experience. There’s the additional factor that seagulls are moving inland as a direct consequence of humans impacting on the sea, so nothing in this scenario is especially good.

Recently I was woken by a dawn chorus of house sparrows. It would be fair to say that sparrows are not musically minded and it was more like a very cheerful amount of shouting. However, given that sparrow numbers have fallen dreadfully, there’s real charm in there being enough of them to be properly annoying in the early morning. I listened to them with a mix of annoyance and delight.

I like hearing birds. I’m not overly attached to songbirds in this regard – I love the calls of corvids and geese, for example. Mooring under a rookery was always a lovely thing to be able to do. My usual dawn chorus has a lot of magpies in it and I think the reason I usually go back to sleep is that their calls are entirely familiar so they impact on me differently. I don’t think I could ever get used to seagulls, though, and am glad that I don’t have to try!

The Cult of Jobs

In theory, jobs are the answer to poverty, and to the rising cost of living. ‘Get more work’ our government tells us here in the UK. We are encouraged to move into better paying jobs, work more jobs and work more hours. It’s preposterous when you stop and look at it. Time is finite. We do all have to sleep. No one should be asked to work all the hours there are so as to be able to afford food.

It is true that automation and the cunning use of computers will result in fewer jobs. Checkout work is a case in point here. I see people online talking about how we should not use self service checkouts because it will cost jobs. However, I’ve done checkout work and can vouch for it being low paid, tedious, that you get a lot of abuse from customers, and that hauling things over a bar code reader is not intrinsically rewarding. How much better the world would be if those of us who can did that work ourselves and we didn’t require so many people to do it for us.

We could use technology to get rid of boring, repetitive, soulless jobs. We could even stop with the nonsense that jobs and more work are the answer to poverty. It’s interesting to note that in The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists (1914) exactly the same argument was being made by the bosses and politicians in the story and that the author was clearly not persuaded. More than a hundred years later, jobs have not saved people from hunger in the UK.

Jobs themselves are not a solution to poverty. More hours working equate to a lower quality of life. Paying people a living wage for the work they do would be a better place to start. We could afford to question our whole culture around work and working, because increasingly it makes no sense and leaves too many people disadvantaged. We can’t keep trying to grow our economies into more just arrangements – it’s not what capitalism does. We can’t afford the damage relentless growth causes and our planet just can’t take any more of it. Increasingly the Cult of Jobs looks like a death cult that urgently needs replacing.

Contact and Consent

It used to be the case that many people who were tactile felt able to just express their joyous affectionate natures with impunity. Regardless of how that impacted on other people. Even before covid taught us to be a bit more thoughtful about how we handle each other, I started to see change coming in. It’s important to ask people if they are ok with being hugged rather than just pouncing.

Some of us are in pain. Hugging isn’t fun if it hurts. A wordy check in can make it possible to negotiate and to hug or make other friendly contact in ways that don’t cause pain. Pouncing can be painful, no one needs that.

Some of us have PTSD and are triggered by unexpected physical contact, by being touched by strangers and all kinds of other things around touch. Checking in so that the other person can give informed consent to being touched makes all the difference.

Some of us find touch difficult as a consequence of neurodiversity.

Some of us just don’t like being touched. We are entitled not to be touched and we do not owe you an explanation.

With all of these things, you can’t see by looking, so it’s really important to ask. If someone hugs someone else, that’s not them consenting to hug you and you have no idea what might have been discussed pre-contact or what that relationship is. Never infer consent.

There are people who use bodily contact as a way of asserting themselves and having power over others. The more normal it is to seek consent and respect people saying no, the harder it becomes for predators to do their thing. Don’t let your warm and affectionate nature be used as cover for someone who gropes, grooms or worse.

If you think there’s a reason your unsolicited tactile behaviour is ok, please, please spend some time thinking about it. If you aren’t hearing people say ‘no’ to you that doesn’t mean they are ok with what you are doing. They may not feel safe saying no. They may not expect you to care – after all if you haven’t asked, they don’t have much reason to think that their saying no would make any odds. Being drunk is not an excuse for putting hands on people without their consent. Their clothing is not consent. How they interact with other people is not consent. You thinking it is no big deal is not consent. If someone expresses discomfort, take them seriously and don’t try to tell them why what you did was ok.

I’ve been around this issue a lot over the years, with varying responses. I’ve encountered people who would not take no for an answer and who felt entitled to do whatever they wanted to me – most often on the grounds that they considered it no big deal and they weren’t going to modify their behaviour for me. No one should be kissing, touching or otherwise handling someone else’s body if they don’t have consent.

It isn’t natural!

“It isn’t natural to put a cat on a lead,” she said. “That’s not a dog you have there.”

The statement amused me, because there’s nothing natural about dogs being on leads, it’s just something we’re used to seeing and consider normal. Leads have to be made, dogs do not grow them.

The question of how human activity relates to what is natural, is always going to be an interesting one. Condemning as ‘unnatural’ pretty much anything that isn’t liked, is one of those things people seem to like doing to other people. There’s a case for saying that the majority of things we do as late stage capitalist humans destroying the planet is unnatural. It goes against nature. There’s also a case for saying that viewing ourselves as separate from nature is part of what causes this problem in the first place.

All too often, we mistake what we consider to be normal, for something being natural. As with the dogs on leads. No animal originally evolved to be put on a lead by humans. However, there are many creatures that we’ve had relationships with /exploited for tens of thousands of years, no doubt influencing them as well as us. Dogs and humans have been collaborating for a very long time, arguably this is natural. Pug dogs on the other hand, can barely breathe through their own noses and have been shaped by human intent in a way that seems as unnatural as it is cruel. But then, cruelty appears to be very much a part of human nature. 

We confuse the familiar with the natural. We confuse normality with inevitability. We confuse averageness with desirability. We treat being normal and familiar like this is reliably a good thing, something to aim for, to trust and to measure with. It is our business as usual, our regular every day how we do things that is destroying us, and destroying life. It would be helpful to stop assuming that just because it’s what we’re used to, that it is somehow good and desirable.