It’s a dick punchy kind of day.


I am furious. Filled with rage and ready to punch some dicks.

Fuck you selfish bastard men with your stupid big dick energy and the backing of other bastard men. You wanna know why women get so angry and are then hated even more? There are a million reasons, mainly starting with you. Men. Yeah, that’s right. But not all men. Let me explain.

There was once a girl who fell in love. It was a beautiful love story until it wasn’t. Like almost half of the marriages in Australia, it ended.

And here is where the story gets ugly because here is where money talks. Power, money, and big dick energy. The patriarchy at its best, throwing around the idea that women who have taken on a more traditional role in the family aren’t worth much money, so when it comes to a settlement, don’t you be thinking you’re getting much, cause it’s not yours it’s HIS. He does all the work after all, who do you think you are?

Here’s where it gets tricky right?

The unpaid labour of raising multiple children, therefore having the capacity to only work part-time is just, well, according to some, tough tits … you chose it. And how about the role of supporting said husband who works full time – plus some, essentially tipping the parenting tasks 80-20 her way? According to some, that’s what you signed up for. You knew what you were getting into when you got married – tough tits love. What about taking a role within the business? Well that’s just simply being supportive of your husband and you SHOULD do something to be part of what keeps the food on the table, otherwise, you’re just a selfish bitch. Doesn’t matter if the business isn’t of interest to you though. Tough tits love. You knew the gig. Don’t be thinking you can just change your mind either. Suck it up.

You may wonder who I am referring to as I write this. I am referring to me, you, and EVERY WOMAN who finds herself, either by choice or not, in a position where they are financially disadvantaged because they took on a role HER HUSBAND NEEDED AND WAS HAPPY FOR HER TO HAVE because it served his purpose and his own gain.

So what’s the answer? It’s been a question on everyone’s lips for decades.

How do women gain more currency and value in our society? Sure, we’ve come a long way since being burnt at the stake, but some days, in rural Australia, it doesn’t feel all that long ago.

As usual, the responsibility is thrown back in women’s faces. How many times have we read about “raising good men”? I agree with this statement, but again, the majority of children’s main carers are mothers which means it’s another job we have on the list filed under ‘unpaid tasks’. Sure, just pop down “smash the patriarchy” on the note pad darl – I’ll sort it out in between the grocery shopping and dropping the kids at sports practice.

Until there is a major shift in valuing the role that women have in holding this whole shit show together, we will forever be belting our heads against a brick wall. I’d love to point out to some men who just don’t get it, that most of us worked full-time and had jobs, careers, and a life before we married and took on the role of raising a family, supporting a partner, and doing all the ‘unpaid’ tasks that we have gifted our partners to not even have to THINK about, let alone do. So let me tell you something, going to work every day, working full time, working overtime and weekends, is far easier than doing the unpaid tasks that keep the world turning. Most women agree that the most challenging role in their life has been mothering. Mothering YOUR children, mothering YOUR future, mothering THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD’S FUTURE.

So how do you put a monetary value on something that means the world? It’s a difficult task. Any figure is quite frankly an insult. We all know the world would fall apart if it wasn’t for the unpaid labour of women. I balk at the idea that we need to infiltrate “the man’s world and show them we are just as good”. We’ve been fucking glorious forever. We don’t need to change who we are or pressure ourselves or our daughters to be something ‘other’ so that we can be equal. We need all the same opportunities and choices that men have but what we NEED is to have those choices valued if they happen to fall into a more traditional role.

On that note, I’ll just be over here holding the world together… what do you do?

M

The Glue to the Shit Show

As much as I am an absolute supporter and cheer squad for women who achieve brilliance in their lives, excel in their chosen pursuits and smash some ceilings, I wonder sometimes, who is cheering for the other kinds of amazing women?

I Am Woman… Hear me Roar (and complain).

I overheard a conversation a few months ago. It was about someone looking to hire a mechanic.

“Would you hire a female mechanic?” 60 something-year-old man asked a similar-aged woman.

“Yes,” she replied. 

Her response was quickly retorted by 60 something-year-old man with “really?” as he screwed up his nose.

60 something-year-old man (who will now be referred to as Dickbrain) then continued to say that he knew of a girl who might be looking for some work. She “was fully qualified and EVERYTHING”. Dickbrain sounded shocked that a mere female could pass successfully. He then continued to describe WHAT SHE LOOKED LIKE. Cause I’m sure mechanics relies heavily on one’s appearance.

People like Dickbrain make me shitty.

I understand that Dickbrain was probably brought up in a different era, has different values, and probably didn’t “mean anything” by his comments and facial expressions but why are these comments still made? Why is it so shocking that a female can fix cars? Didn’t he watch Neighbours back in the 80’s? Just make a reference to Charlene being a mechanic like normal people and move on with your day.

This is the perfect example of why feminism is so important and why I am cranky with myself for not being braver and speaking up. However, like most keyboard warriors I’d rather get opinionated and mouthy from the comfort of my laptop and flanny Jim Jams thankyou very much.

I think the word feminism can be a dirty word for some people. It can somehow be divisive when at its core, it’s trying to be the opposite.

Is it because of the stereotype of a feminist? Do you conjur up images of a bitter and twisted old lesbian man-hater? Or maybe a woman who is outspoken? Perhaps it’s a career-driven woman? Or a grumpy bitch in her mid forties with nothing better to do than rant away on her sub-par blog.

Wait, what?

Sure…. all of these people might be feminists but here’s a news flash. Men can be feminists too. It’s not an exclusive club for just those with two X chromosomes. We can’t find equality with only half of the population being engaged. So what are “feminists” banging on about.

The definition of feminism according to the Merriam Webster dictionary is:

Definition of feminism

1 : the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes

2 : organized activity on behalf of women’s rights and interests

Pretty simple. Equality. Not too much to ask is it?

Apparently it is. And in the words of my 8 year old who has been asked to unpack the dishwasher… WHHHYYYYYYYYYYYY?

I don’t get why it’s taking so long. I don’t get why the most powerful man in the world is a raving sexist lunatic and gets away with it. There’s so much I can’t make sense of. I also don’t understand some of the chauvinistic blah on a Facebook page I follow. (Yeah, I know…. press “unfollow”). I don’t know who runs this page… maybe Dickbrain does? It’s embarrassingly out of touch and disappointing that the people who enjoy chasing little white balls are obviously ok with chauvinism masked as humour and wit. It’s just keeping typical old men’s attitudes alive and thriving. Sad but true.

Also… I got a notice in my post box about anti-abortion hoo-har? Please let’s not have to fight for that right again. 😩

Anyway… I shall trot my high horse back into the stables now as I hum the iconic feminist anthem. Your song, Helen Reddy, which is older than me, has inspired thousands. It seems it will take thousands of years, if ever, for the roar to be really heard.

As Molly Meldrum would say… “do yaself a favour”. Turn up the volume and sing the song ladies….

Yours in bra burning goodness 

M

Just Call Me Karen

I think I got talked about by the nursing staff at hand-over. I rekon theres a high chance I may have been referred to as a “Karen”.


Well, buckle up. I’m a Melissa.


Here’s a bit of a back story and update:


We’re heading into week 3 with number one son in hospital. Usually it’s a stock standard 2 weeks of IV’s… bug dead.. see ya later. Didn’t quite happen this time. Anyway… he has an inhaled med he does with his chest physio, and because it can cause a bit of lung irritation, it’s being diluted to half strength… all within the orders written up by the Dr etc etc blah blah.


Time comes to have this medication. I remind the nurse that he’s having it half strength.
Nurse returns telling me he’s been having it full strength, because that’s what’s been signed off on the drug chart so that’s what she’s brought in.

She told me this THREE times, because each time I corrected her, her ears must have imploded and she couldn’t hear what I said.


I reiterated my point AGAIN and politely but assertively suggested that it may have been signed off incorrectly on the drug chart by the physios and can we just have it mixed the way I’ve asked….please and thankyou very much, for fucks sake, Amen.


Now this is where I shall intervene and just hit up anyone who is embarking upon a career in the health or caring industry.


LISTEN TO YOUR PATIENT’S. For the love of god, even if you think they’re complete cretins and dumb as a bricks….listen to them.


They’re not always going to be right, but the chances are that when you question those who live with chronic illness, they probably know what they’re talking about. I might even be so brave as to say that the PARENTS of children with chronic illness know more about their disease than you, and sure as hell know what the fuck is going on in the room of which you weren’t present when the bloody mediation had been given.


Gah.


I don’t think in anyway that my exchange was aggressive or rude, I just had to repeat myself until she actually listened, and by the third time, I may have had a tone in my voice that resembled “Karen wanting to see the manager”.


Also, I was tired, so I wasn’t my usual delightful self. After all, I’d been sleeping on a bed the devil himself designed and quite frankly, since I’ve hit my 4th decade, the idea of making others a bit uncomfortable doesn’t destroy my thoughts or conscience as it once did. I’m over pleasing people who aren’t pleasant. It’s exhausting.


What was interesting was that the next morning the day staff mentioned something about the conversation slash exchange I’d had with the nurse the day before. This nurse was older, more experienced and appeared supportive. She empathised about how she is aware that parents know what’s going on with their children’s health blah blah blah…but during our chat she used words and phrases like “argument”, “good for you”, “tiger mum” and “speaking out”.

Ummmm….What!?


And what exactly is a tiger mum..?


I asked the Google machine and this is what it said.


I’m confused because I’m obviously not Chinese and I don’t know Amy Chau so I think she meant being a mum “like a tiger”.



This is much more accurate, plus the father reference is much more relatable too…


Please bare with me while I pull up my feminist knickers here as I ask…


What is the male equivalent of a “tiger mum”?
Who is the male equivalent of “Karen”?
And why are women seen as difficult, argumentative or speaking out of turn when they make others uncomfortable or question something or god forbid….disagree?


I may be wrong, but think I can pretty safely say that if I had a dangly thing between my legs and was in the same situation, I wouldn’t be seen or described in the same way. I’d probably be seen as confident, strong, knowledgeable and interested. We don’t use these words for women enough. We assert them to be difficult, bitchy, sassy, opinionated and up-themselves.

Plus our names get changed to Karen.

Well I love Karen’s. I know a few awesome ones too.


I think we should all find our inner Karen, and I mean that in the most wonderful way possible. We should demand more than the bull shit we’ve been dished up over the generations.

Question the nurse. Speak to the manager. Ask for more information. Disagree. Speak up without fear of how is “looks” or “sounds”. Assert your point when you’re not being listened to. Don’t be afraid to cause someone just a little bit of discomfort.

It’s taken me over 40 years to be okay with the idea that I may offend someone or cause an eyebrow raise by just asking a question and that it’s NOT MY PROBLEM.


Fair chance the people we make uncomfortable are under 25 years old who think they know everything there is to know, can’t differentiate between you’re and your and lack the ability to count back change without a calculator. How’s that for stereotyping?


Their time will come though. They’ll hit their 40’s and feel the freedom of age and wisdom. They’ll want to talk to the manager and ruffle a few feathers because they’re old and sick of everyone’s shit. They’ll do this and look back remembering the Karen’s of yesteryear. They may even smile, shake their head with a knowledge that they have now become the Karens they eye rolled in their twenties. They will embrace this change and their new found title.


Without further adieu, I present to you the “Jessica’s”


And in 20 years time, they’d like to see the manager.


M

*disclaimer.. I adore nurses. They do one of the hardest job in the world and don’t get paid nearly enough for what they do. I was a nurse for a while too, and this is definitely #notallnurses