Dear men: We are DONE.

It’s not our job.
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It’s not our job to remain un-murdered.
It’s not our job to prevent attacks on our own bodies.
It’s not our job to walk around on guard like our own personal secret service agent.
It’s not our job to have to google legal defensive weapons lest WE get more attention from the guards than our attacker does.
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It’s not our job to watch what we wear, drink, take, say, or watch who we lock eyes with on a night out, whether on purpose or by accident.
It’s not our job to have an escape plan playing on a loop in our head from the minute we leave place A to walk to place B.
It’s not our job to set a self-imposed curfew from sundown to decrease both the chance of attack and the chance of being blamed in the aftermath.
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It’s not our job to need a chaperone.
It’s not our job to now have to watch our backs in the day as well, because now the night isn’t enough for predators any more.
It’s not our job to carry our keys through our fingers locked into a fist like Wolverine but with none of his superhero strength.
It’s not our job to feel on a regular basis the primal fear that crashes down through our bloodstream like an icy waterfall from our head down to our core when we hear footsteps getting louder behind us.
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It’s not our job to have to attend more vigils than nights out with our friends.
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It’s not our job to witness those vigils being targeted by angry entitled fucked up men, because all our so-called safe spaces are coveted by predators who aren’t satisfied with just violating our normal daily lives any more.
It’s not our job to dread seeing a woman’s name on a hashtag and fearing the worst, to steel ourselves for a news report and footage of flowers and candles on a pathway.
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It’s not our job to then get attacked online when we have the audacity to show rage instead of just passive non-threatening sadness.
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It’s not our job. It never was.
It’s not our fault. It never was.
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It wasn’t her job.
It wasn’t her fault.
We’re done. We quit.
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Men, step up. There’s a job going. Take it and sort it out.
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End of broadcast.

Trigger Warning: My Opinion on Why We Still Need Feminism In The West

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Look, I’m a humour-based writer by trade and by choice (At least I hope people find humour in most of it) but there are some things that never fail to make my soul burn with rage, like people who think feminism is not really needed in the West as much any more. OH PLEASE. All you need to do is follow the likes of @EverydaySexism to see we still have a long way to go.

But here’s a bit of a story from me. I’ve many more, but this one sticks in my mind above all else.

In addition to writing, I’m also a singer/songwriter who’s travelled around Europe and gigged a lot. When I’m not threatened with rape because I reject some gobshite’s advances IN THE MIDDLE OF ME SINGING A SONG (i.e doing my fucking job) in a Greek bar while the bar manager looks over and shrugs his shoulders and leaves me to defend myself (I’m 4ft 9), THEN maybe I’ll start to believe more in the changing global attitudes towards women.

This was in Europe guys, and not a million years ago either (Summer of ’99). I was lucky enough to be playing with a friend (also female) to a lovely mannerly bunch of Marines, who stepped up when I started screaming like a premenstrual banshee at the man who threatened and intimidated me, and threw that fuckmuppet out of the pub.

I just wanted to sing and entertain with my friend who was my music partner and my best friend, and we always felt safer gigging together. All I got in return from a punter was a lot of inappropriate touching. For a finish, after repeatedly telling him to either stop or ‘fuck the fuck off’ (I AM from Limerick after all), I then received a whispered genuine threat of sexual assault in my ear as I was singing a song.

The bar manager’s response? Get him more drink, it’ll calm him down. (In an unusual move, it didn’t.) A bunch of Marines who didn’t like would-be rapists brought him outside, along with a few well-placed kicks, which eventually calmed him down and did the job instead. God bless the Marines.

Nowadays, I gig in Ireland all the time, where it’s safer and the majority of men are gents. I play alone and have never felt safer. There’s a community of musicians that mind each other like family, and the bars are some of the safest and most fun places to be. I love gigging in Limerick. But if anyone goes on about feminism in a sneery way; like we don’t need some sort of consciousness to be raised in this side of the world, it just makes me sad. They’ve no fucking idea.

You don’t need live in the Middle East or Darkest Africa to experience fear just because of your gender. As long as there is some sort of mistreatment of somebody simply based on the fact that they’re a woman, I’m going to call myself a feminist, because that stuff is something I’m not okay with.

I’m also very lucky to know a lot of men around me who consider themselves feminists too. You’re all fantastic men, and I wish more would join your ranks and stop subscribing the old adage that being a feminist means hating men. How is that helpful in the move towards wanting respect for all human beings regardless of ANY difference between us??

Let’s take back the word Feminism and equate it with the words Equality and Love, and there you have it. A movement every decent human being can get behind.

That’s my two cents anyway.

Thanks for reading, everybody.

#yestoallwomen #YesToEquality #YesToUnity #YesToLove #MenAreFeministsTooYouKnow #MarinesRule