it's the end of the world as we know it

Yes, you carry on in that field with your flowers just now - come see me when that baby arrives.

Remember the time? Surrounded by cooing friends as cute tiny outfits are brandished for the arrival of a tiny human being. A perfectly packed bag with a perfectly organised birth plan sit by the door. And all eyes are on the parents to be offering tales of joy for the precious days ahead gambolling happily with the newborn amidst fields of bluebells and happiness and daisy chains in their hair.

You know that noise an incorrect answer makes on Family Fortunes? Well, insert that here!

A disclaimer - babies, kids, children, bairns, offspring are all wonderful and I thank my lucky stars that our three are healthy and happy (most of the time) and they make me proud every day. 

Ok but now fast-forward, oh mothers out there, to the moments when you would let a passing stranger hold your child if it meant you could have a thirty minute sleep.  When you could shove the advice of others down their well meaning throats because whilst they are swanning about with their fully grown school kids you haven't showered for three days.  When you are almost paralysed with fear that your spotty /coughing / fevered / apoplectic with screaming baby will never become that beautiful bundle of bonny that you had dreamt about when you decided to get into the pregnant state that deluded monsters out there call 'natural'. 

Natural.

Now there's a word.  According to the 21st pretty much everything can acquire the natural status.

A well meaning dad once said to me that women used to give birth to their babies in the fields and carry on working.

Side eye.

Men - you might want to stop reading here but I urge you to continue.

I'd like to know what's so natural about waking up a mother and finding your insides feel like they're going to fall out of you if you so much as think about walking? And that you believe your baby has been celebrating a carnival inside you for 9 months that on leaving, it's like the Day of the Dead below the waist.

What's so natural about having a vice clamped onto your once hidden mammaries, that now seem to constantly be required to be pulled out and yanked for six to twelve months in a varying range of public places?  Obviously accompanied by either frowns of disapproval or prying eyes.

What's so natural about the copious amounts of poo (all the colours of the rainbow), sick (milky and with bits), snot, eye gunge, ear gunge, scalp peelings being projectiled and shed over you for the next few years?

And then there's the fear. Oh the gut-wrenching, night sweats fear that you will accidentally lose / smother / burn / forget / break your baby. No one ever tells you about the fear at those bloody baby showers do they?

I was at a fun baby shower once (no really it was and the chicken, rice and peas were to die for) and an elder told us teasing mums to stop frightening the newbie mummy with our tales of doom, gloom and what-we-would-like-to-call honesty. But no. I disagree, I think women work with the power of knowledge and information. I wish someone had told me about the bad stuff when I first got pregnant; about the stuff that will make me cry, that will shake and make my marriage, that will make me doubt that anyone should have let me have children in the first place.

I wish someone had told me about the failure I would feel after a miscarriage; why aren't the support agencies preparing parents for the difficulties that could be faced pro-actively because it's a very different set of faces you are thrust into if your baby is incredibly sick or worse, doesn't arrive or stay in this world for long.

Do we naively believe that regardless of eventualities that modern medicine can fix all ailings so that we don't consider the many paths after pregnancy? Is it tempting fate if we prepare ourselves for sadness instead of the gladness we should expect or does it allow mothers, fathers, families to be aware of the support they can access if needed?

So I'm now the self-designated mother with the truth message about the sugar and the salt of babies but not too overbearing now, after all, I went back and did it twice again didn't I?!

This post was written after attending a Miscarriage, Stillbirth and Baby Loss session at the Women of the World Festival , London, 2016

woman

It is not possible to summarise the experience of attending Women of the World (WOW) festival in London this week. So I won't try. I would almost certainly do it a disservice. What I will share are some the conversations, sorrows, opinions, theories, attitudes, strength and joy that crested along the Southbank with women of all creeds, colours, religions, shapes, sexual preferences, political persuasions. 

I often wonder whether people on the outside look in and think 'What the hell? It must be all periods, hating on men and bra burning in there'. I wish I had a word for me rolling my eyes, putting my hands on my hips and wagging my finger saying m-m-m (you know the sound I'm making right?)

Let me give you a little taste of what the hell was going on in there. Well in my little corners of the Southbank anyway. 

A celebration of womanhood and feminism. A cacophony of agreeing and dissenting voices about the choices we make as women. A plethora of reasons that justify those choices. A proverbial Jacob's Ladder of ideas that when shared left us emotionally charged to make changes wherever we may choose.  That word - choose / choice - was extremely important during this weekend. I have heard women rage against the situations they find themselves in when they are ignored in the workplace or touched without permission in the street. I mean how have we not moved away from this yet - in 2015? We are still hearing evidence of the gap between men and women when it comes to pay or promotion to director level. Poet Bridget Minamore opened a talk on 'Who owns your body?' with rhymes about a women's experience when put in the position where you are frightened because a guy is walking behind you, a guy who doesn't understand the fear that consumes you until he crosses over or moves past you. Have you ever done that walk in the dark with your keys in your hand? I wonder how many men consider the thought processes and contingency plans a woman makes when she is in this position?

As always, journalist and curator Hannah Pool brought together female speakers and panels to raise the profile of feminist issues: be it the body politic, race, representation in the media, sex or empowerment. I think Hannah Pool is brilliant. She is one of those women that I would like my daughters to be inspired by: she brings a excited calmness to the a stage and whilst allowing speakers to divulge their views with a sense of freedom, she continues to question and include the listeners experience.  Bringing women, such as Leyla Hussein in to these forums to discuss  how women's bodies are perceived and Dr Shirley Tate to theorise about how historic references to the black female form has affected the social 'norms' in today's conscience, is paramount to ensuring that we continually question the way we see ourselves through social and populist prisms. The brilliant part of these sessions are the Q and As where voices from the floor testify and align themselves with speakers or indeed other voices from amongst the plastic chairs. I might prickle with a teacher's annoyance when women behind me lament their opposition against a lone voice, but who cares? The discussion is being had and it's clear that these discussions will go home with these women; it will make us think and share what we think and want to share with other women. And so the conversations continue.

This year the feminist that I want to wave and shout 'Hey girl!'at is Feminista Jones. Go and read her stuff to find out what she's about - I cannot (and would dare not) paraphrase this  compelling woman. I believe this is a woman we all need to hear when we all become a bit browbeaten. Or when we become a little too submerged in 'me' and need to remind ourselves of the 'she' that is out there. I got a little bit stalkerish of both Mses Pool and Jones and was lucky enough to attend three sessions they were involved in. But good for me because each time I walked out of a room and into another one I felt taller. I'm still feeling taller. Why? There is no one answer. None of the women I heard this weekend had magic wands but there were definitely some moments of wisdom that I have tucked away in a mind-pocket for a crappy-me day. But moreso I took the opportunity to rub shoulders, squish up on seats, clap, nod and 'oh yes' with other woman over issues that we believe are important. There is great strength to be gained when we affirm who we are and what we believe in within the safe circle of like-minded people. I say like-minded but there is nothing I like better than a good ole 'I understand what you're saying, but..." type discussion. So I guess we were like-minded in that our experiences as women crossed over at times and we were there to improve our own happenings.

Week(end)s like this matter so much because when we can get so bogged down in the minutiae of our days and the days of others, we can forget to listen to each other. 

So even though I said I wasn't going to paraphrase Feminista Jones, I am a strong believer in the power of pay-it-forward.  So the really good stuff that I hope you can tuck in your mind-pocket were :

The woman you are today is worthy of love, admiration and respect

We must share our stories because we are not alone, and we never know who is listening

We shouldn't doubt or compare ourselves with others

Simple tings no? Maybe, and I hope that deep down we all knew this stuff anyway. Yet it can be all too easy to forget for ourselves and also ignore when we see that others are not able to see it in themselves. Both Feminista Jones and Hannah Pool are pioneers of activist movements for the protections of others who may not be in the position to protect themselves: street harassment and FGM for starters. 

I have often said (and written) that I regularly find my chutzpah by being around other women. We often provide a collective to create a bridge needed for the women around us to conquer obstacles. But I wonder how often we can sometimes be the barrier?  How do you see yourself amongst female company in your life? A bridge or a barrier?

Oh and P.S Get yo'self down to WOW next year

independent women

Fantastic Day at the Southbank.  A day of inspiration, experience and knowledge sharing.  I don’t agree with everything I have heard today, but I’m not expected to. The conversations and raising of issues is what this weekend is all about.

What are we teaching our young women and little girls today?  How are we guiding them to reach their full potential and aspirations that maybe society doesn't readily promote?  I listened to a space scientist today? And Maggie Aderin-Pocock rocked!

Coming together with black women who have loved and loathed their hair and now have a contrast of opinions about how, what and why we do what we do with our hair.  Do Caucasian women have the same dilemmas? Does hair choice affect them the same it does me? I heard today that we must be more than our hair, our identity should outweigh what is growing out of our heads.  On one level, yeah sure. But I know, and some of you out there know the difference that feeling good about your hair can have on your day, your week, your career!

Blogging is now part of my daily life. Reading, commenting, writing and telling other people to start one too – usually when they’re moaning off to me about something. Get it off your chest…start a blog.  The newbies and expert bloggers I met today were so diverse. But we all had something to say.  For a person who normally chews the ears of family and friends, I found I had lost my voice in crowds today – don’t worry, I told myself, you can blog about it later. So what did I learn? Research, be true and happy with your blog and make sure you eidt…cough…edit.

Is Feminist a dirty word? Is the journey to power and success the same for black and white women?  Who are the role models for the young generation and why?  You know, I hear these discussions and think that 1 hour is just not enough; these theories need to be ongoing. And not just with us adults, what do our young women think?  We cannot step in their shoes and argue for them; our experience was different (as it was for our mothers) and in order to make a real change, they must be present to hear our herstory.

For me, this WOW was different. For the first time, I saw faces similar to mine, I heard voices relevant to me, and I met some wonderfully beautiful women Lulu and Vanessa.I was happily exhausted travelling home tonight, will I have the energy to do this all again on Sunday?  Hell to the Yeah!

Goodnight London, wherever you are.