Wednesday, 26 October 2016

Tampon Tax.

You may be aware of this already but I’ll reiterate for those of you at the back: half of the population bleed out of their vaginas every month. It’s all part of our menstrual cycle; the bleeding part is called menstruation – more commonly known as a period or, if you want to give it a pet name, Aunt Flo, Penny, Blob, whatever you want to call it. I know two of my friends use Barack Obama as a code name for theirs. The point is, that no matter its name, every person with a uterus will bleed monthly – the frequency of menstruation does depend on the length of your personal cycle, though, so don’t panic if it’s not entirely regular.
In order to stop our blood from getting everywhere, we must use some form of ‘feminine hygiene’ product to catch it. Now that could be a tampon, sanitary towel (pad) or menstrual cup. I personally prefer wearing pads but wear tampons as well, especially if a pad will not do the job properly! (So on occasions were I’m swimming or sunbathing etc.) I’ve never used a menstrual cup before, but, in all honesty, they kind of scare me a bit. Maybe intimidate is a better word to use. Plus, anyone who knows me is aware of how clumsy I am so we can all imagine what a disaster it would be.

Feminine hygiene products are necessary items to everyone who has a period. Free-bleeding isn’t a good thing. Yes, it can make everything a bit messy, but can also lead to the spread of disease and is generally very unhygienic. Plus it’s a pain having to get blood out of clothes whenever you leak.

Despite being necessary, feminine hygiene products are still classed as ‘luxury’ items by the government, which means that we have to pay tax on items that are essential to our lives. Bearing in mind here, that things that are considered ‘essential’ are kangaroo and crocodile meats, edible sugar flowers, men’s razors and alcoholic jellies. Those are what is considered to be ‘essential’ to everyday life. So let me ask you: when was the last time you ate crocodile meat? It’s not necessary for men to shave, but it’s necessary for people with periods to catch their blood a sanitary product. If anything, they should be free – however, I’m aware that that isn’t very practical.

Why is it fair that we have to pay extra for something that is essential to us?

There was a petition that reached over 320,000 signatures last year I think it was (or maybe the beginning of this year as well) but nothing has changed yet. To sign a petition that applies to your area click here, and to sign the newer (active) UK government petition click here!

If you liked this post you might like: Why We Need to Talk About Our Periods

Monday, 24 October 2016

London Town | A Poem

We walk down the street
dragging our cases through
this impossible heat,
we stop at the traffic lights
and then you
say: “Although some might
call London grim
and dirty and smelly,
to me it’s a place I feel at home in,
that means so much to many.
So, we’re crushed on the tube
like sardines,
and yes most people are rude,
but that doesn’t mean
you won’t meet
someone worth fighting for
on those dank and dusty streets.”
I take a tour
of the ghostly buildings
glistening in the night,
see the silly little things
the good deeds that make the world alright.
“Yeah, you’ll get jostled
here and there
but I love the hustle and bustle
the atmosphere in the air
we breathe
that somehow stops me
from being able to leave
the city,
where we are free,
it would be such a pity
if we were not to be
trapped in our own personal paradise,
awaiting the fates toss
of the dice
that leaves us in utter chaos.
The darkness in our light.

If you liked this post you might like: The Teashop Choir

Wednesday, 19 October 2016

Rainy Days

If there’s one thing I innately love, I think it would be the rain. The half-hearted drizzle, as much as it appears pathetic, even to me, I find it reassuring in a subtle way. The wind behind it pushes me forwards, hurrying my day so that I meet the next significant person in my life – someone who would have passed me by otherwise. An unsteady smile exchanged as a peace treaty after our umbrellas battle and shake their tears into our eyes.

Original Picture Credit

Lazy but steady rain is often despised by others. It gently tramples our conservatory windows, roofs and skylights in some sort of aggressive ballet. The dancers don’t stop for hours and stay on their toes all night until finally, they tire out, and only the strongest ballerinas continue to perform. It takes a few hours more before they discard their shoes at last and the noise stops.

My favourite type of rain, though – the one that trumps them all – is the type of rain that blinds. At least, surrounds you with a showery wall so you can only see 2or 3 feet in front of you. I love the rain that drenches me through, sticks my hair to my ever-glowing face and leaves me beaming as brightly as I ever could. That’s my favourite rain:

The dancing-in-the-street rain. The splash-in-puddles-like-you’re-Gene Kelly rain. The snuggle-up-by-the-fire-with-a-cup-of-tea-and-chick-flick rain. The cat-clawing-at-the-door rain. The deafening rows of the gods up above as they pound the Earth in their overwhelming rage.

If there’s one thing I innately love it's the rain. The grey days with the windows open, listening to the patter-patter-pat outside.

If you liked this post you might like: The Web of Lives