The little ball of rage in my chest.

I am exhausted all the time. I am angry all the time. I am miserable all the time. I struggle not to weep all the time. Why do you think that is?

Every day, I wake up and I dread getting out of bed. I dread checking Twitter or Facebook or any news sites. The latest bullshit is in from a world that utterly despises women, anyone who isn’t white, able-bodied or minded, heterosexual or anything outside their assigned gender. I rant about it on Twitter, feel my heart rate and blood pressure accelerate, that tight little ball of rage in my chest grow hotter and hotter until I want to scream and cry and break down.

What do I have to complain about though? I’m non-binary, yes, but largely male-presenting and even using male pronouns, not to mention white and heterosexual. Autistic as well, but everyone tells me they’d never guess. As if that’s a compliment. That I resist completely being myself and have trained myself to adapt because I’ve been told I have to, not just by parents, but society as well and violent people who despise everyone like me. It is not that long ago that Scott Vineer was beaten and left for dead in the town I live in. It weighs on my mind any time I leave the house, especially at night. But I can get by. It’s empathy though that leads me to feel that ball of rage. Donald Trump argues women should be punished for seeking abortions. And the world continues laughing at the clown, while ignoring that that is currently a reality on the island of Ireland, where women in the North are currently being prosecuted for using pills to induce abortion with a potential life sentence and in the Republic, the 8th Amendment casts a dark shadow over women. Trans men who have not undergone gender reassignment surgery as well, but when was the last time transgender people actually factored into a discussion that wasn’t about how they’re traps or rapists or dangerous or mentally ill? It makes me want to vomit.

Men harass, stalk and beg women to send or post nudes, but god forbid they take any sort of control over their own sexuality – women’s bodies exist solely for male pleasure. Cover yourself up, love. Have some self-respect. Some dignity. But let me have a wank first. The message is clear: men are desperate to control women at all times. They do not exist for themselves. They cannot be allowed to feel pleasure in their own skin, and the vagina is a dangerous thing that must be mutilated in many countries. And should women dare to enter the domain of “men things”, they are treated with pure scorn, accused of wanting it all to themselves, taking it over. Targeted harassment campaigns, such as those against Anita Sarkeesian, Alison Rapp, Zoe Quinn, Brianna Wu and countless other women on the internet and in the gaming industry in particular are increasingly becoming the norm and have already been for years at this stage. Being a woman on the internet is dangerous and even more so if you hold the radical notion that you’re an equal.

The MSM blood ban continues to hold, LGBT rights are run rampant over and their organisations’ funding are slashed, while the DUP councillors who uphold this and prevent change through undemocratic abuse of the petition of concern, intending to keep Northern Ireland as far behind as they can run for re-election and have their posters up already. Edwin Poots and Paul Givan’s faces litter Lisburn everywhere I walk, and the little ball of rage gets hotter when I see the posters.

And this is just everything on my mind over the last 24 hours or so. I have not even scratched the surface of everything that weighs on me constantly and how much I want to work for change and to believe it’s possible, even in the face of all fading hope. The only palatable radical politics come from old, cisgender white men, because when anyone else talks about an unequal society, they’re lambasted and ignored because of their marginalisation. The marginalised are further marginalised. The situation is bleak, and desperate. I want to believe. But every day I get a little sadder. A little angrier. And a little more exhausted. I am so tired of feeling this way. I am tired of the unending torrent of bullshit that is heaped onto anyone considered different. I am tired of people begging for their rights to be recognised as human and treated as equals in a culture of desperate control and marginalisation. I do not want to live in a world like this. Not in my name.

Ask me again why I’m always so angry.

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