All posts filed under: Women

Happy International Women’s Day, hell yeah!

Happy International Women’s Day. From the African woman who goes without food so her child can eat; from the Syrian refugee who puts her baby on a boat to a better life; from the lawyer or politician who advocates for equal rights; from the stay-at-home Mum gaining pleasure from the school run; from the wheel-chair user; from the butch/tomboy lesbian who wants no kids but to fix cars instead; from the Artist, the sex worker, the cleaner, the chef, the corporate Queen, the cashier: WOMEN ARE AMAZING. Happy International Women’s Day, and won’t it be a great fucken day when we no longer have to have this day, because we have Equality? I honour and celebrate EVERY WOMAN EVERY WHERE DOING WHATEVER SHE WANTS/NEEDS TO BE HERSELF, TO SURVIVE AND HOPEFULLY THRIVE, and to my dear old Mum, my first experience of Woman, who absolutely taught me to be a Feminist, first and foremost. I truly think that’s her greatest gift to me, and I have passed it on to my son, which I believe …

The Weyward Sisters: Back to Black/ Collaborative Amy Winehouse Tribute

Originally posted on A Global Divergent Literary Collective:
Rana Kelly/2nd star to the Left, straight on ’til morning Oh, Amy Whenever I go walking In my stilettos, I hear you talking. Dream me up a way Of swishing my hips And pursing my lips And singing your riffs So that I find beauty Like you. lois e. linkens she puts her black dress on in the dark, anxious nails red and messy in their early-morning artistry. he left the candle burning in the winter window – vanilla and cinnamon on a Sunday evening, tears and vodka on a Monday morning. last week’s relief breathes into tonight’s regrets, but the shadowy smear on the glass is all that is left of him. Aakriti Kuntal/Writings of Aakriti Kuntal Rummaging through black air, nauseous red nails bearing oily seas Suffocating existence with conversations, conversations with glittering nail cutters, cracked moons laughing hysterically in them Conversations of fallen boyfriends, of fallen love Fallen being the new being Aurora Phoenix/Insight From Inside She scrawls lines up the back of her fishnet stockings wiggly-lined intoxicated rebellion strutting…

Thank you! Here’s cake for my 100 Followers! :~D

Yup, I just reached that sweet baby milestone, and want to honour all of you who’ve taken the time to read even one Post. I’ve always wanted to be a ‘writer’, ever since I worked out how to make a word on a piece of paper (I remember the moment; it was of course c-a-t). I felt like I’d made magic, and sometimes still do. When I write or read something poignant or visceral, I’m so grateful for my blessed life, where I can make Art in peace and safety, with a roof over my head and food in my belly. I’m going to donate $100 today to The Indigenous Literary Foundation here in Australia, whose mission is to provide language-appropriate books and reading classes to disadvantaged Aboriginal children in remote areas. I’m also going to eat a piece of cake. If I could share it with all of you, I would. Thank you so much for your support and love, gabrielle xxxxx

Down the long lane

My mother, who lives in England, turned 80 on July 4. From Australia, I had organised a 3-day weekend get together in an old farmhouse on Dartmoor for our closest relatives, meaning 13 of us met up to celebrate. I hauled myself over to the UK, begrudging all those people who sleep easily on planes. Still, four good films in a row aren’t bad going. A couple of weeks before I left, I treated myself to a massage. As usual, I wondered why I don’t do it more often? It was such a lush experience, with hot white towels softly lowered over me, and warm wheat-bags resting along each limb, feeding the air with that fresh bread scent. No tinny dolphin music, just silence. It was in a private home, so no exterior noise, or impatient clients waiting outside the door for us to finish. The masseur created a wonderful sense of nurturing, with her deliberate, knowledgeable movements, and I sank into the experience. I’d had a horrible cough for a few days, so I …

Blog tales for the Over 50s with positive ageing, dating & relationships

When your teenage son asks if you’re a feminist

‘Yes. Absolutely 100%. Totally, dedicated, committed, Yes!’ I replied. He shrugged, in that gangly, wide-collar-bone way so many teenagers have, and said: ‘Yeah, so am I; it’s just obvious isn’t it?’ My heart nearly burst with pride, and my eyes teared up over our cereal bowls. But I kept my cool, and made a casual remark about how great it was he thought that, and what a shame he wasn’t running the country entire world (he often teases me for my over-enthusiasm; I really don’t know what he means). That was last year. Yesterday, on March 7 2016, the day before International Women’s Day, the Australian Council of Trade Unions (ACTU) released their updated report ‘Gender Pay Gap – Over the Life Cycle’, which sums up its findings with this nugget of shame: “Australian women are financially disadvantaged at every key stage of their life: in childhood, at the workplace, through pregnancy, motherhood and as a carer, and in retirement.” This is why I’m a Feminist. I care about financial equality because we live in a …