Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Thursday, 1 December 2016

Resistance

As a huge coward I am scared of having my relative privilege upset by the new Investigative Powers Act in the UK. I am slightly over-awed by the upsurge in nationalism masquerading as patriotism and the concept that patriotism is benign and so often say nothing when I ought to speak out. As a Christian my faith tells me to find the abused and the forgotten, the minority and the victim, and to stand with them. And so far I do little.

However, do you know of Network made in 1976? I watched it way back in 2003-4 and thought it was eerily prescient then. Now? Now I think it was a Cassandra. Consider the iconic scene that starts it off (kinda) and that everyone knows pretty well even if they don't know the film, I have found the clip on youtube below:


Now, contrast that with this clip of Keith Olbermann doing a relatively good job of talking up resistance but doing so under the auspices of GQ magazine. The trans-nationals (well, more appropriately meta-nationals) packaging and selling your rebellion back to you at a profit margin:


These could have been written to mirror one another. But, in a more general sense, Olbermann has a point. Resistance is required. Anger is required. I am good at angry. I am good at making myself an obstacle in small ways.

So, I am small-fry. I have nothing to fear because I have nothing to say, not because I have nothing to hide. I am safe enough as I am small-fry. Sure, one day they will come for me. I know that. In the meantime, my job is to stand with those who they will come for first. To speak with them and, mostly, to keep my damn' mouth shut when they're talking but stand in the way of the trucks at 3am (or whatever they actually send). To agitate. To draw attention. To stand in solidarity. To use my privilege to offer as much buffer and protection as I can.

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All comments are welcome, I have a thicker skin virtually than I do in real life!