There was much repeating of mantras
Lily Maynard has a brilliant long piece about the Brighton meetup and issues that flow from it:
Standing for Women holds various public meetings around the country, most famously at the Reformers Tree in London on the last Sunday of each month but increasingly in other cities. Recent meets have taken place in Nottingham, Manchester and Bristol as well as London, and in Washington DC and New York City in the States. At most of these meetings, held in public spaces, any woman who wishes to can speak to the group about issues that concern her and her sex. Sometimes, when the women are done, male allies get to speak too.
Let’s be clear, we were not meeting in order to clash with transactivists. Currently there is still no law to stop a group of people gathering in a public park for a chat. We were not ‘organising a protest’ or deliberately provoking anyone – unless, like the protestors, you view women talking about their rights as provocation.
She took many photos, which she shares.
So what did these guardians of diversity have to say for themselves? Well a couple of them enjoyed shouting ‘fascist’ at a baby on the outskirts of the meeting – I know, right? It does seem unlikely- but you can see the clip here. The woman in blue dungarees, shouting at the baby, is Carly-May Kavanagh, policy advisor to the local MP.
“You’re raising a little fascist as well?” her companion asks the baby’s dad.
“Oh, you’ll get your poo on it?” Kavanagh raises her voice at the baby. “Wow, you fucking fascist!”
“You think that’s a good idea, do you, to raise a child who believes this filth? Who doesn’t accept trans people?” she moves closers and gesticulates suddenly in the baby’s direction, calling its father ‘disgusting’.
Fortunately, baby remains unmoved by the exchange.
I knew nothing of the incident at the time but I was speaking to the baby’s mum shortly after it happened. Indignantly, she told me, ‘someone just called my baby a fascist’. Awful. Baby was fab, adorable, totally cool and checking everything out. Not displaying any fascist tendencies as far as I could tell in the two minutes I spent cooing at it.
Well that’s how they pull you in. They’re sneaky, babies are.
There was much repeating of mantras. Oh, the irony of men chanting ‘you’re not feminists’ at us because we won’t go along with their pretence that they’re women!
…
“Fuck off Karen” was popular for a few minutes.
And, of course, ‘trans-rights are human rights’ – which we all know to be true. I don’t know anyone who ewould deny that. Trans rights are indeed human rights. People who believe in gendered brains have the same sex-based rights as the rest of us. So when TRAs say ‘trans rights are human rights’ that isn’t what they mean. They mean that they should have the right to force us all to pretend you can change sex. That’s not a human right. It’s not a human right to force people to pretend they agree with you. It’s not a human right to silence and bully people who don’t share your unfounded and phantastical beliefs.
This is what I keep saying. We don’t oppose human rights for trans people. The issue is new, invented, ridiculous pseudo-rights that don’t even resemble real rights. There is no “right” to force people to believe your claims about yourself no matter how crazy they are.
It is interesting to note- although sacrilegious to point out- that trans activism is based entirely upon lies. Firstly the lie that you can change sex. Secondly the lie that hobbies, clothing & hairstyles are what make you a certain sex juxtaposed with the idea that actually no of course it isn’t that at all… but also yes it is… but also it isn’t… so it doesn’t matter how you look at all, your gender expression can be different to your gender identity, yet at the same time boobs and beards, or their absence, are essential for authentic-self-ness.
Thank you. That’s a good read.
I watched part of the event live on Kellie-Jay’s YouTube channel. During the week, as time permits*, I’ve been watching the rest bit by bit, along with reading accounts and watching video by other attendees on Twitter and assorted blogs, as links appear elsewhere.
If I were relying on traditional news sources, I’d know nothing about it.
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*It’s weird, but I suddenly seem to have got something resembling a life back. Six months after my second bout of CoViD, my brain fog is gone, my energy has returned, and I’m feeling hopeful again. I’m back at band, hitting the timps and learning to play the bodhrán; doing all the little DIY projects which have been irritating me for months; and getting out and about with the grandchildren. I probably overdid it a tad yesterday, though, because I fell asleep instantly I got into bed, so I didn’t even put on my CPAP mask; I awoke this morning feeling as if I’ve been thumped all over with a steam hammer. But, amazingly, I’m still not feeling miserable, frustrated, and depressed, as I have been, and will be taking a crash day and then doing it all again tomorrow.
That’s brilliant news, tigger!!
Thank you, Ophelia! One of the things which I did yesterday, which was definitely overdoing it, has left me with a big grin. When I was getting dressed after my shower, I could hear Son-out-law and the twenty-year-old grandson outside, playing with the XJR 1200. Of course, I had to go outside and watch. I hadn’t even put on the leg braces and boots, because I wasn’t planning to do any walking until I went to band, later. By the time I’d put my sandals on and unlocked the door, grandson was just pulling up. He parked the bike.
Right outside my porch.
What could I do with that level of temptation?
I parked my wheelchair as close as I could, climbed on the bike, started her up, and rode to the end of the driveway. Grandson rode my wheelchair up so I could get back in when I dismounted. I think he was quite impressed; I’d had to stop riding six-and-a-half years before I got home from Australia; and he was only a baby when he last saw me ride – he used to ride in my sidecar – and couldn’t remember any of it.
You never forget how to do something like that, do you? Hubby was less impressed. He said “You might be the only Granny who wears sandals to ride a superbike and motorcycle boots to go to the toilet.”
Less impressed or MORE impressed? That sounds like a high compliment to me!
Possibly more impressed? It was a typed message. He’s in England, and he’s at a concert tonight with one of our friends. I’ll have to ask him which when I next get a chance to speak with him.
tigger, your news gives me hope. I am still suffering residuals from my bout of pneumonia, and topped by a brutal work schedule, I’m barely able to move around when I’m home. Maybe if I wait long enough, it’ll go away. (It may go away when I retire, and don’t have the brutal work schedule anymore).
iknklast, my ill-health and disabilities forced me to retire a long time ago. You’re doing brilliantly, if you’re able to go to work at all, let alone to a place with a brutal schedule. Small wonder you have to crash when you get home. Sending hugs, and hopes that you can afford to retire as soon as you wish.