Imagine a world where your Twitter feed is censored by the government. Where what is and isn’t considered ‘news’ is dictated by the Prime Minister and their cabinet. Where the powers that be get to decide what webpages Google is allowed to show you. Imagine a world where people are forced to work until they literally drop down dead. Where physical and mental disabilities and illnesses are disregarded, and people who care barely walk are marched down to the jobcentre without so much as a ‘Get Well Soon!’ card. Imagine a world where your access to healthcare is dictated by how much money you earn. Where a broken arm costs more than your rent. Where you have to choose between a life-saving surgery and food for the next 3 years. Imagine a world where your home – the one thing you own that is worth any money – is stolen…

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I dreamed of you again last night. You were tiny and perfect and all mine. Grabby hands and brand new smiles. You loved me and I loved you and we were complete. Us against the world. I see you everywhere I go. No, I look for you everywhere I go. In the tiny clothes and YouTube videos. In parks and playgrounds. My heart yearns for you, even though I don’t know you yet. It’s a physical ache, a weight I feel with every heartbeat. There was a time where I actively rejected the thought of you. When other people brought you up, I would recoil in horror. You were not for me, and I was not for you. We would ruin each other – you, too needy; me, too selfish. I watched other people yearn to meet you and thought ‘Never. Not me.’ I never thought I’d change my mind.…

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I’d never thought of myself as one of those girls. You know the ones I mean. The ones who stare at themselves in the mirror for hours on end, painstakingly grabbing at every inch of their body that they dislike. The ones who carefully turn the pages of the glossy magazines, savouring every image of thin people with thin people problems. In fact, I’d never been particularly aware of my body at all. Or at least, not the size of it. I was a dancer, so I was aware of how my body moved. Aware of the lines it could create, the emotions it could evoke. But the size of my thighs? That had never crossed my mind. Of course, I was lucky. I was relatively thin, and dancing six days a week had left me with a fierce metabolism. But I also just wasn’t that fussed. My body was…

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On Tuesday, I wrote about how we can solve the problem of white feminism. Today, I went on yet another Twitter rant about the failings of white feminists. It would not, however, be fair for me to continue writing and talking about this issue without acknowledging my own hypocrisies and white feminism. — When I was 16, I stood up in front of 75 of my fellow students and talked for 20 minutes about why we still need feminism. To this day it remains one of my proudest achievements. It was the start of my journey as an outspoken feminist, and it sparked my passion for talking about feminism publicly and without shame. It was also the epitome of white feminism, failing to mention even in passing the struggles of women of colour or trans women or disabled women or women who were in any way not like me. Thankfully,…

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The world is not big enough for women. There are just so many incredible white men out there. By the time society has rewarded all of them, there simply isn’t enough room for all the women. It’s not that the world doesn’t want to let women in. It’s that letting too many women will upset the careful balance society has spent decades perfecting. It is not misogyny, it’s science. Too many women spoil the broth, or something. At least, that’s what we’ve been told. From birth, women have been told that there’s only a limited amount of space at the table for us. When a woman does get into the special all-male clubs, therefore, it’s an exciting moment for womankind. But getting a seat at the table as a woman is nothing like getting a seat at the table as a man. For a start, it’s widely accepted that the men…

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