Archives for category: Uncategorized

I want to write about Ferguson. But I’m a white middle class transwoman, living in one of the safest places in the world.
I’ve never had to worry about someone, someone who’s supposedly there to protect and serve me, instead murdering me. My life is relatively safe.
I’ve never had to think about how the colour of my skin might impact my own safety. I’ve never had to think about the colour of my skin full stop.
Never having to think about something that can have the gravest of impacts in regards to another persons life is a privilege.
And that privilege can blind us to seeing, it can blind us to caring. It makes us think that it doesn’t matter to us, that because it doesn’t affect us directly that it’ll all settle down soon, and things will go on like they’ve always gone on.

Thing is though it does affect us. Every 28 hours an African American is killed by law enforcement, or a security guard, or a “vigilante” claiming self-defence.
How can that not affect us? How can that not make us go what the actual fuck? How can that not make us angry?
I’m a white person, and I’m angry and I’m shocked. I’m scared by the rising tide of racism happening right now, both here in the Uk, and elsewhere. I can’t even begin to imagine what the anger, the shock, and the fear must be like for someone of colour.
So what can we do?, What can I do?

A friend of mine put it like this.

Learn about Ferguson. Learn about the racialised history of America. Speak the truth. Understand oppression and racism. Fear. Understand the pain. Heartache. Understand the anger. Disbelief. Speak the truth. Don’t be afraid to be unpopular. Don’t give up. Speak the truth. Black lives matter.

Below are a few of the articles I’ve been reading whilst learning about what’s happening in Ferguson…

Ferguson, goddamn: No indictment for Darren Wilson is no surprise. This is why we protest.

Some white people still think Mike Brown’s death isn’t about race.

White Cop Shoots Unarmed Black Guy for No Goddamn Reason at All

Racism is so insidious, even black people underestimate it.

‘We Still Don’t Have Justice’: An Open Letter From Ferguson Protesters and Supporters.

LQTU! Stands in Solidarity With the Brave Protesters in Ferguson and Beyond.


Writing is hard. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, because it is.

Of course hard doesn’t mean not fun, writing can be fun, and it can be interesting and often mind expanding. I write to solve problems, to share thoughts, and to receive feedback, (oh my god, you’re like the new Shakespeare/Russell T Davis/Jenette Winterson/and so on, that sort of feedback really) but what writing really wants, and deserves, is consistency.

As it may be obvious from the last time I wrote here, this is not one of my strong points.

I fully intend to change this, (and I can’t even remember how many times I’ve thought this) because I really need to change this.

Thing is, you reach a point in your life where you start to consider what you’ve achieved, and what you’ve left behind. I’ve achieved a lot, and I am proud of this, but I can do better. So much better.

I’m held back by myself, and my fears, and that’s not a good enough reason not to try and do more now. It was, for a long period of my life, for many, many reasons, which I may well write about in the future, but it’s time for a change. It’s time to try consistency. (It’s also time to learn how to spell consistency. Every time I write that word the little red underline appears.)


So, another Haiku, about another film about how depressing love is. Lovefilm is sending me some frankly bleak films at the moment. God job my love life is so fulfilled at the moment *sob*

Sex and death create
disjointed sorrow, in the
defiant sixties.

Okay, so I know it’s predictable to moan about it but man it is hot at the moment. It’s the night that’s the problem to be honest. During the daytime we’re all look at the sun, isn’t it great, lets do stuff outside, lets start wearing stuff without sleeves, lets grow freckles and eat Freezepops.  Its great, it’s all great, that is in till we try to go to bed.

Then it sucks. Here is a typical night in bed for me at the moment ( steady now, i’m currently in a desert of singleness without an oasis in sight, so it’s not going where you think it is )

  1.  I feel tired
  2. I get into bed
  3. I am too hot almost instantly
  4. I open the window, and ahhhh, fresh air.
  5. A bazillion spiders, moths and other assorted flying beasties drop by the open window like it’s a party that’s been accidentally advertised on Facebook.
  6. I spend an hour catching said beasts and removing them. ( I say catching, I also mean squashing as well, which probably makes me sound bad. If it helps I do have a squash/don’t squash pecking order, depending on how big, or likely to bite me the bugs are )
  7. I close the window and think about how one day I’ll make a screen thing for it that’ll stop all this insect nonsense.
  8. I feel hot, again.
  9. I open the window just a little bit. They won’t come in when it’s just a little bit open yeah?
  10. They come in. Step 6 repeats. I mull on the fact that as long as the window is open, the insects will come in. They are no respecters of personal space.
  11.  I lie in my hot bed, in my hot room, being hot until i slip into a heat induced semi coma.

I should probably just buy a fan.

I went to Ikea the other day. My nearest one is a bit of a trek, in a 4 hours on a train sort of way, but hey ho.

So anyhow, I went to get shelves, cause my room needs more shelves to put all my stuff on ( even though I’ve cleared out ‘stuff’ there’s still more of it that I can’t quite get rid of ), and also to hunt for Christmas pressies, as it’s that time again.

I get there, and decide that the first port of call should be the restaurant, for a lovely bowl of meatballs ( they are divine, no trip to Ikea is a trip to Ikea without them ) and I’m sitting there, noming away, and a huge group of schoolkids come in. They now do school trips to Ikea. I don’t understand.

They also were partaking in the meatball feast, and I thought maybe it’s just a large group of kids on their lunch, but no, it was a proper trip. Now when I was a school we didn’t go to Ikea for field trips, we went to South Wales to look at mining facilities and devastated rural communities ( who would throw bricks at our bus – true story ). It was cold, wet and depressing. There were definitely no meatballs.

I mean I’m guessing that they’re learning about retail and furniture and stuff, but still, it seemed a little bizarre to me. Although they seemed to be having a great time, walking round the shop I kept seeing little groups loading up on tealights and useful storage solutions.

Anyhow, my trip was a sort of success, I got shelves, and I ate meatballs , although a part of me feels that 4 hours on a train to get this might of been slightly erm… a waste of time? Hmmm….

I tried moving my bedroom around today to make more space. It did not go particularly well. Here are some useful tips I’ve learnt along the way which may come in handy if you should decide to do the same……

  • Measure the stuff you want to move. Then measure it some more, and measure the space you think the thing will fit into. Using your out-stretched arms as a measurement is not actually an accurate measurement as such.
  • Move all the stuff that’s likely to get in the way of moving big things, like beds for say, out of the room. Furniture Tetris is not as fun as you’d think.
  • When you do move stuff out of the room remember to start putting it somewhere away from the room to allow space for other stuff being removed from the room. The doorway to the room is not somewhere away from the room.
  • When lifting things remember that you do not have slayer like strength, so things will sometimes be heavy. Heavy things are bad and like to hurt your back. Hurt backs hurt and make you feel old.
  • Things that are heavy include mattresses, piles of books, books in boxes, random stuff also in boxes, chests of drawers. (Note-Everything seems heavy after you hurt your back.)

In the end I had to put everything back to how it was in the first place, because nothing fit where I thought it should. I effectively achieved nothing for the mornings work, other than a slightly broken bed ( from being move about too much ), a sore back ( from lifting heavy stuff ) and a sense of overall disappointment and failure.  Like I said, it did not go particularly well……

So, this is the bit where I introduce myself, talk about what I’m doing writing about personal stuff on the internets for everyone to see, and be both witty and interesting.

Who am I? Someone you might know, or maybe someone you don’t, I guess the more I write the more you’ll know….

What am I doing? Well, mainly writing about being Single in my late thirties, although other stuff will inevitably come along as well. If there were a list of Categories with boxes to tick I’d tick Personal Blog, and then Space Blog, because who doesn’t love Space? ( as in Outer, not area around you free of debris, obvs.  Also, should point out that posts about Space might be less frequent, if you are looking for a Space blog…..).

Am I witty and Interesting? No comment.

And we’re off……..

Freiya Benson

Writer & Photographer.

Let's Queer Things Up!

Talking trans identity, mental health, and more.

A Word about Me

by Hina Khan Palwasha

a gentleman and a scholar

trans politics, too many books, a great deal of music, assorted ephemera.

a paper bird

Un pajaro de papel en el pecho / Dice que el tiempo de los besos no ha llegado


Lifestyle / Beauty / Fashion

The Girl Next Door is Black

The Life & Opinions of a Late GenX-er/Early Millennial



Beyond the Binary UK

Welcome to Beyond the Binary - a magazine for UK non-binary people

Ten Million Hardbacks

The Truth About Rivers

My questions, my truths, and my views are simply stops I take on my way to understanding the human experience. This is my path to us. To you.

The Nameless Blogger

A personal blog about life, relationships, and everyday struggles

banal muffins

art, food and existential crises

The Fickle Heartbeat

A blog about love or lack thereof

remember her november


There Are No Others

A Catalogue Of 'Othering'

%d bloggers like this: