Youth // poem

31 August 2016

I do not stop breathing
When you are bored of the eternal
Click and hiss of my breath 
You cannot shut this journal

I am not an ant
I can't carry twice my weight
When you ask I will not fetch
I will run straight through the gate

I am not a child
But I'm still scared inside
And although I may be strong
I am not strong in size

I am not electric
You cannot switch me off
I will buzz through my own life
With no extra added cost 

I am not invisible
I am relevant and tall
I know you cannot see me
But that doesn't mean I'm small

I do not stop running
Just because you want to walk
I will chase the sunset 
I can find my thought

I am a real person
Who's complex and quite confused
And although you might not like it
I'm happy in spite of you

//Jeani


My experiences with sexism

26 August 2016

When I first learned about feminism last year, I viewed it very much from an outward perspective. I never really included myself amongst the oppressed women in the world because my life is pretty much exactly how I want it to be.

Since then, I have learned a lot about feminism and women's equality and there have been many instances in  my life where I have actually experienced sexism and I just want to share some of those with you today.

From the age of roughly 9 months old, I had a boy best friend, he was basically my brother. When we grew slightly to about age four, our different interests began to show. Even from that age, the difference in toys, favourite colours, TV shows were clearly prominent because that was what we had been taught was right. I liked pink, had a collection of barbies, dozens of different princess costumes and I liked to make perfumes out of petals in the garden. He had a collection of hot wheels, one pirate costume and wanted to be a scientist. I think it is crazy how these different stereotypes were pushed onto us from such a young age, if they hadn't been I might have fallen in love with science but I was taught that that was a boy's subject, and I didn't like boys.

When I was a little girl, I used to have really long hair and whenever my mother and I talked to her friends the first thing they would always say to me was "you're going to break lots of boys hearts you will". Thinking about it now, it's a really weird and offensive thing to say; why is that applauded? They were dragging me through the mud, saying that just because I was pretty I was going to be a "tease" (my hatred for that word is an entirely different discussion). That entire concept is just so wrong, i mean, why were they even sexualising an 8 year old girl?

As I grew up, I became very interested in fashion and makeup and I have always loved to dress up. A family member that I haven't seen in a while came to talk to me and after a while they said "Do you want to be a beautician when you're older? I bet you're going to be a fashion designer" naturally assuming that because I am a girl and I wear makeup I am going to go into a typically feminine job, not even adding in the fact that I am an A grade student in English, maths and business studies, and would most likely get a D in any sort of artistic subject. To be totally fair, I am very interested in fashion so the assumption was understandable, but it was quite insulting to me at the time.

When I was in year 9 and had to pick my GCSE options, we had a day where we talked to all the teachers about the subjects. When I asked my business studies teacher about whether he thought it was a subject suitable for me he said "It's typically a subject that a lot of boys take" clearly implying that I shouldn't take it because I was a girl.

When I was younger and discussing with someone I know about careers, he told me that he wouldn't hire a woman that wasn't pretty or nice to look at.

In school, boys are given a much harder treatment if they are bad than girls are. If a boy talks in class, he gets angrily told to leave the classroom, but if a girl talks they are calmly told to be quiet and listen.

When I was at party (age 13) there was a group of boys running round and slapping girls butts and laughing when they screamed. I was one of the girls targeted. Society is so fucked up that I was actually almost flattered, even though I was extremely uncomfortable and humiliated. I realise now that this was sexual harassment.

When I recently told my Granddad that I ran a blog but I wasn't getting many followers, he told me that perhaps I should get a boy to help me because that would get more readers.

My very close friend once gave an 18 year old guy a blowjob because she thought he wouldn't like her anymore if she didn't. I told her if that was the case he wasn't worth liking.

When I started wearing makeup my Dad told me that boys don't like it when girls wear makeup, I said that I did. Other boys tell me that it's "false advertising" I say that I'm not a product for them to buy.

When I wore my favourite skirt the other week my Nan told me that my favourite skirt was too short and that I wouldn't want to provoke old men. I said that if I'm too young to wear the skirt, she's too young to be sexualising me in it. I also said that it if an old man decided to touch me, it wouldn't be the skirts fault, and I would be sure to kick him if he did.

I know that if I was a boy talking about feminism, I would be taken a lot more seriously.

My mother is extremely conscious of her weight. She is very thin and very beautiful, but she's also human and 47 years old, she doesn't look like photo-shopped 20 year old models, and neither do I. Her value is not placed on how she looks, she is the most amazing and beautiful woman I know.

When I get offended when my male friends make sexist jokes, I am told to "lighten up" and "get a sense of humour".

I constantly find myself confused by the media in terms of how I am supposed to look. Some people say I am supposed to be thin, some people say I'm supposed to be curvy, some people say I am supposed to be thin and curvy. Do these people not realise that there is next to nothing I can do to change my size and my shape? Do these people also not realise that I am not their's to look at or decide whether I am worth anything or not?

There are a couple of conventionally "ugly" girls in my class and they heavily ridiculed and patronised just because they're not "pretty". They happen to be extremely intelligent, kind and fragile. It drives me mad to see them put in a corner everyday with no way to defend themselves without being accused of not being able to "take a joke".  This happens to boys too from the conventionally "pretty girls", they treat them like dirt and it's not fair. Since when did being "pretty" mean you have to be bitchy, life isn't mean girls, it doesn't make you powerful, it just makes you nasty.

I am very confident with myself, I am so happy with who I am and I am very lucky that I was born into the wonderful life that I have. People don't like the fact that I feel this way. I am often called "up my own arse" and because I am confident I am called "bossy". Girls are not supposed to love themselves and their bodies, but I do and you have a right to as well.

On this blog, my most read posts are the ones about fashion and beauty. As females we are obsessed with how we look, to the point that we feel that we can't read about or do anything other than look good.

Thank you for reading // Jeani


My middle name // poem

21 August 2016

I don't have a middle name
But my first name is unique
So I've never understood the shame 
Of the name that hides within

When I used to ask people
What their middle name would be
They'd hold it back like a secret
Like a piece of their destiny

But why was it that way?
What didn't they want me to see?
Now I sort of understand 
The need to cling to their identity

Everything we have
Is never truly ours
So that one string of letters
Was the only thing of theirs

//Jeani


I am my protagonist // Verbal Spill

15 August 2016

Trying to find who you are and be a good person is really hard, because you have to be true to yourself and put yourself first, but you also have to try and not hurt others, which is hard sometimes.

In my life, I am obviously the Protagonist - I will always see myself as the victim, as the one who did good, the one who is trying to do the right thing. In movies, the antagonist always has bad intentions and is essentially an evil character, but in life these people don't exist. The people we fall out with, who hurt you, who do bad things, aren't bad people. They're just people who make mistakes sometimes and are trying to figure themselves out and trying to be good people but also put themselves first. There are no good and bad people, not one person can be pinned down to just one of those simplistic labels because we are extremely complex beings. Sometimes, you will be the 'antagonist' in someone else's story for a while and they will assume that the thing you did was done with terrible intentions and that your only purpose in life is to hurt them and make them unhappy. You will probably see them the same way. In their life and their story they are the protagonist and they believe that they are the victim and they will therefore see you as an intentional villain, because that's how it works in stories. You just have to remember that they are hurting too, they're not evil and in their eyes they are doing the right thing.

In reality, there isn't an author deciding where your life is going to take you today, you make that decision. You decide whether you want to see someone as the antagonist, because in reality nobody plans to make people good or bad, nobody is trying to do a bad thing. You just have to decide whether or not someone is bringing happiness to your life and, similarly, you get to decide whether you bring happiness to someone else's life.

 The best part about life is:  if something goes wrong, if you hurt someone, if you fall out with someone, if you mess up, you get to try again. and again. and again // Jeani



A letter to those who ridicule young love

13 August 2016

A woman once mockingly said to me “aw do you love hiiiiim?” in that whiny, patronising voice that we all know too well, that voice that doesn’t have the desired effect of making us laugh or smile, but stare back blankly with our lips pursed, not quite meeting their eye because it would be rude to disrespect our elders - as much as we might want to.  The bitter questions fight to jump off of our tongues “since when did my age dispose of my capability to love? Do you really think that I am stupid enough to be unaware of the depth and complexity of the emotion just because of the number of years involuntarily attached to my identity?” because the truth is, it hurts when we are discredited and it hurts when we are looked down upon by bitter, old women who - in reality - are desperate for the freedom of young love once again because they’re stuck with bitter, old men who are probably bigoted, racist and never leave their arm chair in their strictly M&S living rooms. “Do you really think it’s easy to be conscious of the fact that one day I am going to have to abandon the person I am in love with to do ‘greater things’ and leave with my heart screaming in my chest desperate to cling on to perhaps my one chance of true love?” It would be wrong and pathetic in their eyes to stay with the one person who makes me happy because that would be wasting a life on someone who doesn’t even care, I could go on to do better things… so inevitably one day we will end. And it’s going to hurt. A lot.  Someone once told me to be careful what you wish for and God I wish I had been; there’s so much pain in loving the perfect person when I know eventually life will tear us into our separate directions and neither of us will want to say the word ‘good bye’ so we will just half-heartedly cling to that last thread of hope, that isn’t even really there, and my heart will tear with us.  Why did I ever resign myself to this constant reminder that my happiness can only bring me pain? “So don’t tell me that my love is less real and less significant than yours just because of a number; my love is more passionate, more exciting, more meaningful, more solid, more calm, more shocking, more emotive than you would even believe because you only see what you want to see through your 10% off glasses from bloody specsavers. Your view of the world is decrepit, just like you.”




Spain 2016

11 August 2016









There is something beautiful about travelling. Wherever you go there are fragments of home littered about amongst strange parallel versions of the things that we are used to. You see people living their lives, totally impartial to a stranger walking through but barely touching the edges of their world, just for two weeks. How can the struggles, the wonders and the confusion that takes place in this little village be summed up in  14 days of taking pictures, wearing pretty dresses and bathing in sunlight? How can I say I've seen Spain when I've only ever seen through a tiny crack with a veil over my eyes // Jeani

An Old Friend

10 August 2016

Hey everyone,

Today I got a message from a very old friend, my best friend. The message didn't mean anything, technically it wasn't even from him, but all the same it brought back all the memories of being a child and how close we used to be.

Naturally, I tried to find him on twitter, suddenly I was desperately curious to find out about his new personality and what he looked like now, how he has changed... When I found him, I got a strange mix of emotions; I used to miss him a lot, I used to really want to see him and I went through a stage in my life when I just wanted to talk to him again and seeing a photo of him sort of brought that back. It was so strange to look at him now. It's like, he looks the same and I know he's the same, but he's a version of himself that doesn't ever think of me and I have no affect to his life anymore. If you've ever watched Doctor Who, you'll remember the scene in the library with Donna and River where River talks about seeing the Doctor before he knew her, how it's like looking at a photo of someone before you knew them and they're just not done yet, it's like looking at ghost. Well, this was sort of like that, only the opposite I suppose because it's after he knew me. It was like looking at alternate life that I might have once had if certain decisions had never been made, looking at the shell of someone I once knew and I just don't anymore. His life has moved on and he has evolved as a person, the person I once knew has been left behind and the person he is now is someone more, but someone different to the person I used to know. He's just a stranger.

I suppose I'm just a stranger too. I have morphed and changed so much since being that little girl, I cannot say that I'm still her. I feel somewhat detached to those memories, it's like looking at someone else's photographs or reading a story. That's all they are to me now, stories. That's all he is to me now, a story. That's all I am now, a story.

Even though that chapter has been told and it's finished, my story isn't and I still have a say in what happens next. There's no better time than right now to decide where I am going to take the rest of my life. I have that choice. I can make a decision. My God so what if I regret doing what I want and messing up, I would much rather that than not doing it at all. So "hello again, wanna meet up?"


The broken vase // poem

2 August 2016

For a while you were my project
A broken vase in need of putting back together
I wanted to sculpt you into a stronger self
Someone who would withstand this stormy weather

For months I tried to glue your broken pieces
A constant need to lift you up
But every long night began to leave me with cracks
You were emptying my half-full cup

While you were treading out of the shadows, I
 Was slaving to push you forward
Until my glass just smashed, the flood came through
I was living under a falsehood

You were using my sun to light yourself up
I was just a step to you, and now
I have received no recognition for my services
Did I create this monster you have become?

I am happy you no longer feel under her shadow
Because no one deserves to feel that way
But did I do nothing for you all those months ago?
Do I not deserve the final say?

I am telling you how I feel and yet
You are kicking me down once again
Because the way I made you feel is more important, well
I'm sorry I forfeit your twisted game

Now I reminisce about us
And the shocking truth hits me
Your vase was never broken
You're a fake and always will be.



The "strong, female" charcter

Hi everyone!

If, like me, you are a fan of YA novels, you have probably noticed the character in every book which is identified as the "strong, female" character. There are many aspects of this terminology and the characters themselves that sort of contradicts the message that the author is trying to get across. That message is of course that women can be strong, this character is an attempt at feminism I suppose.

So, the problems. First of all, you would never get a "strong, male" character, so why is there the need to label this character as strong, it suggests that perhaps every other female character in the story is not strong, that it makes her a better than all the other characters because she is "strong". This kind of has the "I'm not like other girls label"
(See Savannah's video here:
)



Another problem is that this character is generally nothing but a strong character, her entire personality is based on her being brave, strong physically and independent. But there are so many other aspects to women and I think books ans movies should show that you can be strong if you cry, if you're shy, if you make mistakes, that there are other ways to be strong other than physically. 

One of the perfect characters for this, in my personal opinion, is Margo from John Green's 'Paper Towns'. She is undoubtedly a strong, female character but she is seen to have realistic and common faults, she's real, she gets upset, she's confused, she doesn't know what she's doing and you get a glimpse through her mask. Margo for me is undoubtedly the perfect feminist character because she is clearly a badass and yet she still has the feminine traits such as painting her nails and wearing designer jeans when breaking into seaworld. She is complex. For example, when Q and his friends go into Margo's bedroom they see the collection of records that she owns and you see that there is so much more to her that no one knows about. 

That's just some brainstorming here really, if you are interested in this topic, I suggest you watch Lucy Saxon's video here:



Thank you for reading, 

Ellie xxx