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No, I am not a philistine for pointing out child abuse themes in Poor Things

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    Warning 1: This piece outlines some history of child sexual abuse and grooming of children. There are no descriptions of acts but I will talk about organisations and events. It's shocking reading but it's important. Be careful. Warning 2: I will announce spoilers, promise. I hate spoilers, I get it. I don't discuss the second half of the film at all. Warning 3: this is a long ride but stay with me. I use language like "paedophilia" and "gay rights" deliberately in this piece while I'm discussing histories of these concepts and movements  I am aware that these terms are not always acceptable now. Where writing about contemporary issues, I try to use accurate and current terms.  ***** About a week ago, my mum said “Have you seen Poor Things?”  I told her I hadn’t. “You have to see it. I don’t know what to think. I want to talk to you about it.” Normally mum loves an art movie. And Mum doesn’t mind a nudey rudey art mov...
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Is RUOK day OK?

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  Let’s just put it out there: it’s not a good look to heap crap on RUOK day.  It’s nice. It was started by nice people, people who lost a beloved friend, people who wondered if they could have saved him. It’s a genuinely beautiful act from friends in terrible grief. Many of us have lost someone to suicide, and if you can’t bring them back, then maybe the next best thing is to do something meaningful to prevent another one. I get it.  RUOK day's origins are genuinely beautiful, admirable, and understandable. And I really, really don’t want to say “but”. . . . . BUT… ***** RUOK day is a classic of its genre. It’s a day for people who don’t suffer to try to fix people who do. It’s a day to try to “spark conversations”. It’s a day for “champions of change”. See also: White Ribbon Day, the establishment of Beyond Blue. What it isn’t, is a day that was asked for by those of us who suffer, often threaded through our entire lives, from mental illness, trauma, and persist...
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One for all and all for one

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  Dear Hawthorn, If what is alleged is true,  I no longer want you in my life. I’m not sure you think I even exist. But that’s not the problem, is it? The problem is that I’m not sure you think anyone other than blokes like you exist. Or matter. But we do. And you mattered to us. And you have trashed everything that meant for our family. There aren’t that many properly working class families who love Hawthorn as passionately as catholics love Collingwood or Mancunians love United. But my family is one of them.   Dear Hawthorn, When I grew up, my mum and siblings and I would join my cousins and aunties and uncles and grandparents, and we’d drive out to VFL park with our little plush hawks dolls, with the number of our favourite player drawn on the back. We’d eat pies at half time, and bang the advertising boards when you got a goal. My brother had a poster of Peter Knights on his wall. After family lunches at Pa’s place, all seven grandkids would climb the fence ...
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Twelve Days

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  🎶 Sing along if you know the tune! 🎵 [this post in no way reflects real humans or events, I totally made it up and everyone is perfect]   On the first day of Christmas my family sent to me… my kids having pancakes with me.  So far, so good. On the second day of Christmas my family sent to me… my niece on my doorstep after maxing out two credit cards and a zippay account and she’s lost her job and can’t tell her mum so I cancel Christmas shopping so we can have a cup of tea and cut up her credit cards and plan how she’s going to get out of this mess. … and my kids having pancakes with me. On the third day of Christmas my family sent to me… The dog, bored because he's not getting walked three times a day any more, leaps after a fly and smashes mum’s favourite Country Road salad bowl which she lent me for my birthday party. I get on the CR site and start looking up the cost of Express Shipping. … two maxed out zippays … and my kids having pancakes with me. ...
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