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Think of the depths of hatred that invokes. To say, I want you, a stranger, to have to carry an unwanted baby or make the trip back from England, bleeding and sore, because I am angry a famous man I don’t know was accused, and not even convicted of rape.
In some ways this must be the cruellest thing of all – the terrible persistence of hope.
Why do some missing women get attention, posters everywhere, TV reconstructions, the FBI involved, and some get nothing? There is actually a term for this – missing white girl phenomenon.
is that significant? Or just one of those tiny actions that mean nothing, except for the fact you did them on the last day you were ever seen?
Why do we judge the women who end up dead as if it’s their own fault?
At his appeal, the judge made a point of saying he was letting Vincent go in part because he spoke well and dressed nicely, he’d always worked hard and even raised money for charity, all of which seemed to count for more than the lives of the many women he’d terrorised, beaten and tortured.
It says so much to me about how women were treated in Catholicism, like cows to give birth over and over, in a country with no abortion.
Too often we’ve behaved as if the border were a portal of some kind, expunging sins, allowing immunity from crimes.
The truth is that the men who do these things, the monsters, are the same men who live in our homes.
If you are beautiful, blonde, a mother, a married woman, then people will care about your murder. If you aren’t, you might be out of luck.
So what are we supposed to do to keep ourselves safe? Not leave the house in daylight? Not get a lift, in a country with scarce public transport? Not stay at home? Not love a man?
