- Feb 8, 2025
Yesterday I fully immersed myself in the Reclaim the Night march in my city.
It's not something I'd actually heard of which is sad, since it's been going since the 1970s.
The aim of the movement is to come together, unite as women and allies, and take a stand about the outrageous truth of violence against women and girls, not just globally, but even down to our own very streets. The roads that we live, our doorstep.
This year, the University offered sign making workshops, for free, ahead of the march, so ofcourse I had to sign up.
Attending any event alone is always at best daunting.
And it's funny how much of that is encompassed in exactly why we were marching.
But part of my mantra this year, is fuck it.
So
"Fuck it" I thought, I'm going all out.
I pictured a night out where I'd be safe, to not only walk the streets, but be myself, unapologetically, and loudly.
What would I wear if I didn't give a care.
How would I do my makeup?
Ever the maximalist I put together (if I do say so myself)
A phenomenal outfit, fishnets, a purple baby doll miniskirt, a fishnet long sleeve snood (I think there's that one woman on tiktok who coined that?) And my pink Bridgerton collection (primark) lingerie top.
I topped it all off with my coat which I've aptly named "The Bear", a faux fur coat that is truly giant, warm, and cosy. (Thanks Blue Banana)
It may be tame as to what I wear in the future, but it was the first time I left the house alone in such a garb.
I curled my hair in tight ringlets and backcombed it to death, and did a hugely dramatic makeup using all the colours in the coat for inspiration. All together, it looked so good, and I won't lie, I was feeling it.
The issue was, I had a the sign making workshop 2 hours before the march, so I decided to go down in full glam face, and comfy clothes, which felt super strange and I didn't feel very confident at all.
But as soon as I got there, I recieved such warmth, I was getting so many compliments, and the general feel was entirely different than I was used to, I could relax more, let my guard down, have fun.
All of the students who helped with the workshop were all smiles and the shared energy we all had to this cause was really special.
It didn't take long to screen print a sign, shockingly, but I stuck around, went into another room where people were sitting, designing their own signs and decided to join them, there was a really positive buzz around the room and I added some colour to my sign.
About half an hour before the march I whipped home and got into my outfit.
Some of the lovely ladies offered to keep hold of my sign there, so I wasn't lugging it back and forth (thank you!!)
And when I returned the cup of love doth overfloweth.
I was truly overwhelmed by the amount of compliments I was getting, and, being my awkward self, I was dreadful at taking them.
Taking this in my stride I was fully ready to direct all of the pent up adrenaline to take to the march.
Over 500 people showed up for the cause. Nearly twice as many as the previous year, and it was a bit slow getting together.
Feeling awkward I moved through the group and chatted with a few people,
I ended up in a conversation with a couple women who were also on their own at the march, and it was also their first year.
So, naturally, we were sisters that night. We all were.
2,4,6,8, stop the violence, stop the hate.
The march began, and over 500 people streamed down the road, emergency services stopping traffic and chants and cheers erupting from the group. Motorists beeped their horns in support, and recieved a big cheer in thanks.
I saw a fair few women who were onlookers, who, for one reason or another couldn't attend. I saw a truly soul shining smile wash over their faces as they saw us march by, happy, carefree, and safe.
A car had slowed beside the march, and this made my heart sing and my eyes cry (thank god for setting spray!) I saw a father, driving his two children alongside us, two little girls, they were waving so hard, and we were waving and cheering back at them.
Tearing up once more while I write this, it gives me such hope, to see a father bring his daughters to see, and to give them that experience of connection with us.
The route took us right up onto the coast, and the freezing wind battered the signs, and nipped at us, but we marched on.
We passed many groups of startled onlookers, received jeers from groups of lads, but, carefree, we went on.
When we reached the endpoint, speeches were made. Statistics were given, the shocking rise in violence against women and girls in the last year alone. A poem was read, and a minutes silence given for a local woman who was murdered in the last month on our very streets.
Following the march, many people remained, and there was laughing and joking, stories being told and memories being made.
Taking my leave I agreed to see the friends I'd made at the next one next year, and proudly I may have skipped merrily home, sign in tow.
Following the event, the obvious social media misogyny was a bore, but for me, this event has ignited a fire in me that will not snuff, and has erased the silence I have long held.
Make you a sandwich?
"I guess, some guys just can't hold their arsenic."
- Feb 5, 2025
I am writing this from a staunchly hot bath,
As even now there's a bulbous, semi sentient orange passing as a human man shouting horrific abuses and lies against a group of people I hold closest to my heart.
I'm not sure this is the 2025 that many pictured. Even in their wildest and most twisted nightmares.
Granted, I am oceans away,
Granted, I am lucky to pass as the gender I was assigned at birth,
Granted, its not on my doorstep.
But how long can one stay silent as their peers slowly wilt, fade and without word, disappear from the world, in front of our eyes.
How long can one pretend it won't be you next, yes, you pass as a woman, but what about when being a woman won't be enough.
There is very likely even a time where my being white might not even be enough, being Irish.
When should I start stitching shamrocks.
My own father grew up with abhorrent racism immigrating to this country in his childhood.
In my lifetime I've seen thorns of hate protruding from almost every marginalised community.
I cannot stay silent in this.
I will not.
I have the gift of articulation, I just have yet to aquire the gifts of a working knowledge on how these system work, and who champions them.
My eyes look to my own country, my own government, the country that has looked to the US with puppy eyes for far too long.
We are safe, for now, we don't currently have a system that allows for such stringent changes to the workings of the country.
This isn't just about trans and non binary, it's definitely not just about trade wars and stances on current genocides and conflicts, its not just about immigration and I.C.E,
And it was never going to be about fucking eggs.
I am choosing my moment,
And though I had hoped to come to grips with things a lot more before I made any sort of statement on it.
I'm choosing for it to be now.
Whatever closet it is that I'm in let's consider the doors blown the fuck off.
I was born a woman, though I never ever felt like it.
Even now, thirty years later, I still stand by my waking up every day, and choose to present as a woman.
But I never felt like one. As a child, I thought it'd change when I hit puberty, so I didn't let it bother me too much,
But when puberty started happening when I was about 10,
It didn't help, I still felt like I had to 'put on' being a woman.
My late teens and early twenties was spent perfecting the woman I wanted to be, I studied makeup, hairstyling, photography. How to walk how to smile, how to laugh, and be a lady.
I found Dita Von Teese, the icon of femininity in the 21st century.
I wanted to be her.
But here and there a dysmorphia was growing, only small moments but the more they happened, the worse things became.
Not in my being a woman.
But,
In my not being a man.
It's still a lot for me to say, and like I've said,
I wanted to be able to process this more, but fuck it, this is real, and this is now.
At this point in time, I identify as non binary, and I've had nothing but great joy in being able to not only vocalise, but express that.
My gender is not, as this point, a trans man, but I am certainly on the more fluid side of things, and being able to embrace the more masc days are a fearful but fulfilling feat.
That being said, how can I shout my joy at my own journey when all others are being cursed and called wretched.
I come out today, to stand with the Queer community.
You'll have to get through me too.
Even the bath did not satisfy, it was one of those baths where it is continually cold, so you keep topping it up with warm water to enjoy it for the brief moments it's warm enough.
If that doesn't reflect how life feels at the moment I don't know another analogy to draw.
Life is cold, harsh and disappointing at present. But one has to keep forcing the warmth back in even if it is only for the briefest moments of enjoyment.
I have not the answers, I haven't even the questions.
I do have a fully weaponised arsenal of words.
And I shall certainly use them.
I have always been fearful of being misconstrued, misinterpreted, or misunderstood.
Perhaps that's the autism.
(Hey look, another neurodivergent that knows not to "roman salute")
But I would rather say my piece, and have the words said,
Than forever hold my words close and revise them privately.
I am stepping forwards and up.
I am stepping up on a shakey leg, into an air of blistering uncertainty.
But by God more people of sense must speak, must act.
We've let this puppet show go on long enough.
But you will not come after my friends, my family, or those suffering under systems designed to snuff them, and those who are fearing for their lives.
I have had it with ancient white men shaking sweaty dirty hands with each other over the cries of human suffering.
This cannot be allowed to go on.
- Aug 6, 2024
My city wakes to a fine layer of broken glass, shining in the sun.
The events of the evening heavy on the minds and hearts of those who live here, as they begin their work week side by side with others whom may have also have been there, on either side.
Yesterday, a protest took place, and because of it's nature, a counter protest was also formed, and while I am not wholly informed of all events and timelines, I can do my best to relay my experience last night.
Sunday evening, during an obligatory doomscroll, I came across a news article from the local news team. It explained how a protest was happening, instigated by -and rather than using the name, I will instead cite Wikipedia's description of them- a British, anti-Islam campaigner and one of the UKs most prominent far right activists.
The rhetoric of stopping boats and anti immigration sentiment would seem to be the driving force behind this protest.
While I have not heard of it directly mentioned in relation to this protest, it would be amiss not to also give the wider context that several mass protests have taken place across the country in response to the brutal murder of 3 young children. If this was the reason they marched, I struggled to see it.
Due to the nature of the organiser and the similar protesting riots across the country, it is understandable that a counter protest was arranged to coincide, and a heavy policing force was scrambled to meet the situation.
The article I read on Sunday night mentioned both times and locations for both sides feeling very much like a call to arms, first detailing the tragedy that began this newest spate of protests, then the times and dates for our protests, then finishing up by stating how awful similar riots across the country have been.
With this in mind I planned to attend, in the beginning, as an objective observer, despite my personal sentiments.
While shopping for groceries, I was informed that the shops were all closing early today, due to a varying number of reasons they said, but another glance at the local news sources confirmed they were closing in anticipation of the protests.
The Royal Parade was empty of buses, all having been diverted or cancelled, creating an eerie scene for its staging.
So at around quarter past 7, I took a wander into the city centre. I can't say I expected much, I've seen gatherings and protests with a small handful in the city but what I was met with was a closed road and a wall of sound.
The Royal Parade had been chosen as the battleground, and I stand by that phrasing as I will get into later.
When I arrived, one lane of car traffic was still open, and motorists attempted to make their way through despite the growing unrest.
Whether orchestrated by the police or the protestors themselves, they had been placed with the far right protesters on one side of the carriageway, and the opposing protesters on the other.
Not a thing in the world could have made me cross to the opposite side of the road, so I mingled around the counter protest side, reading placards, hearing the chants, trying to capture glimpses into this moment, and those who have taken to the streets for this.
I move into the group closer and the chants of "no hate, no fear, refugees are welcome here." rings loudly in my ears, signs and flags adorning many of the attendees and hugs and well wishes of those standing together for this.
Police vans held both sides of the crossing, and a line of police officers armed with protective helmets and either round or rectangular riot shields faced both sides of the protest.
I am hoping when more surrounding media about these events is released that I'll be able to read some of the far right sides placards, I managed to capture one particular person, a union jack in one hand, a double sided sign in the other. 'Referendum on immigration now." and 'End 2 Tier Tyranny now.'
Aside from that one sign, the majority of the far right side had either England flags or Union Jack's.
At 8:12pm I took this picture, after an outcry of "HEADS!" the crowd ducked. This rock hit the floor. The mood changed. It made me think of the term and bible story of 'casting the first stone,' but I am far from educated on theology enough to make any broader statement of that nature. It may not have been the first stone, but it was the first while I was in attendance.
The police may have been holding the lines, but now we were in a siege. I realised I'd come here with my head unprotected, and pulled my hood up for some sort of security.
The cry of "HEADS!" was never going to be the only one. The rules had just changed, they might not be able to get to us but they could throw things.
Pictures surfacing the morning after, shows the extent some went to for these projectiles. Ripped up paving and smashed in walls.
As shards of stone and blue smoke bombs turned to glass bottles and bricks, I took shelter behind a post, and those with placards offered to shield those closest under their boards.
I wont pretend I didnt see return throws from individuals on the side of the counter protest, however these were met wiry shouts to not return throws from several people.
After one shout of "HEADS!", I turned to shield my face, and saw a young petrified blonde woman get struck in the head, folding into her boyfriend in floods of tears as he took her away.
That was a white noise moment for me, one of those memories you have in super slow motion like a action film.
Visibly upset by it as many were around me, I turned and bumped into another young woman, also in floods of tears and panic and held her tightly in a hug while assuring her it would all be okay.
"It's awful." She sobbed.
I must also note that several times here we were having to change which direction we were facing, and more officers were having to box around the counter protest, as by maintaining ground on the far right protest, it has given an opening for smaller groups of them to file into the adjoining streets and then around the wall of policing.
A group of masked people were keeping on top of these small changes in defense of our line.
"Hold the square!!" A bellow came from behind me and a group of them ran past me to meet a group approaching the counter protest.
I can't help but see it as an old school battle formation, changing and attempting pushes forward to gain ground against an enemy.
While recalling events today I am envious of the gentleman who came with notebook and dictaphone, as the timeline is not as crisp as I would prefer it.
The next event I recall is the firework.
The second white noise moment of the night. A small blue firework burst into the crowd and my partner grabbed me and said "time to go."
As we moved quickly back in retreat, I turned back to check the scene, many had fled, and who can blame them, and while I myself wanted to also throw in the towel there, I couldn't deny the feeling of injustice that after having bottles, rocks and worse thrown toward a group standing against racism and hatred.
Deciding to go home and change into more protective clothing, and then to rejoin the numbers in the counter protest, this time with a baseball cap for head and some face protection, a thicker hoodie and thicker trousers.
Upon returning, the counter protest numbers had thinned out. The far right protestors were being pushed into retreat back towards the sundial, and the scene, lit in a flashing blue, was cut with a tension a pin drop could shatter.
The barking of police dogs could also be heard in the distance and it seems they were supporting the officers moving towards the sundial.
Whether this forced retreat played into the constant shifting of picket line around the square or not, I believe it increased tension and began the events that I can only confirm turned protest into riot.
These events are as I witnessed them and not, unfortunately, privy to all events of the evening.
With reasoning I didn't see, a mass of officers began running up to the Treasury, I heard rumours later that a bin had been upended for bottles, and the line of police and vans on the road were thinning very quickly, sheltering under a tree from possible projectiles and trying to gain bearings on the situation, I noticed many signs and placards discarded under the tree. One of which was pulled from the piled and sacrificed for one of the sticks used to hold it, this was now a weapon.
It appeared the protestors had made significant progress in coming in from the right down from TKMaxx, which has seen its glass smashed at some point in the evening, via the Treasury for some fresh bottles, and down towards the square.
The police attempted to filter them down past the Guildhall and in doing so, I believe both sides ended up mixing and there was a mass of running from the Guildhall, past the courts, and towards San Sebastian Square.
Now both sides were mixed.
Not being the running sort I made my way in the middle of the back of the pack, and saw a police line being set up on Notte Street. The Crown Plaza Hotel had its large glass doors locked, a stressed out manager on the phone, and many staff staring out with a spectrum of concern and fear on their faces. Guests lined the hotel room windows in a similar manner. The top of the hill showed the movement had gone down towards the barbican, a wall, broken down for stones and broken glass littering the floor.
I think at this point the groups had not only mixed, but also like a whirlwind, had also picked up general passers-by, and was moving down Citadel Road, it was dark, there are lots of smaller winding roads and its generally difficult to navigate it's backroads and passages.
Shouting and throwing of stones and glass continued onto the top of Hoe Approach, but numbers were thin and the mixture was making many apprehensive.
The violence and anger here seemed to purely be people vs police.
After another bottle was thrown and shattered on the floor nearby, the movement threatened to head back towards us, perhaps in part to a police manovre attempting to block all the roads leading further towards the military base and barbican.
Due to the movement heading back our way people began taking cover in the front gardens, which are more like subterranean courtyards set down sets of stairs, and as was the case with three ladies sheltering with us, hiding behind wheelie bins.
Luckily for us and the homeowners the movement was herded up the grass to the Hoe.
Hearing calls of "stick together" people moved up the grass in groups of three to about seven, noone certain who was on which side or what was going to happen.
The lines seemingly reformed on the Hoe, with the far right, being represented by a much younger group and the counter protest being held on the Promenade in front of Smeaton's Tower.
Shoulder to shoulder the line of police with shields faced the counter protestors with their backs to the other protestors.
Calls of "you're facing the wrong way" echo from the counter protestors.
Not only that but a group are forming at a perpendicular angle to the counter protestors, without a single policeman between them and the counter protest.
Of course we cannot expect officers to act on any information given by alerting shouts, but not one of them flinched when the first bottles were thrown at their backs.
Shortly after, a trade size wheelie bin was set ablaze behind the police officers whom were still facing the counter protest.
A few counter protestors had sat down, to highlight the peace of their protest.
Eventually doing a numbered role call and calling all odd numbers to about face, there were finally eyes on both sides of the fray.
The wheelie bin was overturned and I should imagine eventually burned out.
The counter protest from what I saw from the Hoe, while moderately antagonising to the police in frustration, were peaceful, some sitting, some chatting and laughing, the far right protest was kept away from that line, the bin being set on fire was the final move from them.
Being kept close to the Promenade Cafe, I could see arrests being made.
"Alright guys, we're done, anyone who doesn't wanna be arrested, its time to go." A call came from the counter protestors to let all know it was over, and people quickly started making plans to get home safely in groups.
Both sides mixing again on that bizarre walk back towards town,
A buzz still there but the starting rain keeping the buzz to silent murmuring between groups walking together.
I don't think I took a single step home that wasn't orchestrated by broken glass.
