This is sick.

I've been properly ill since Thursday (CHRISTMAS!) and in denial about it for a few days before, so I suppose I've been ill for about a week now. I don't get sick often, and as Steve, or my late mother would tell you, I'm no picnic when I'm in this state. I'm needy, pathetic and a bit smelly. But nonetheless I am also, in these dark times, introspective. Here are six of the most important things I've learned through this recent bout of festive flu. 

1. Smelling stuff is important. I haven't been able to smell my food for days, making everything I put in my mouth nothing but flavourless textures. Do you know how gross a banana feels in your mouth if you can't taste it? I hope you never will. My poor husband has had to put up with my toxic mouth-breathing and my apprehension to shower because fever. Poor man. I can't smell me, but he can.

2. Sick is better with people. The last time I was this ill was 2003 and it was Christmas once again (WTF, Santa?!) I was all alone in my London flat with a fever of 104 and all of the shops were closed, so I had no medication to ease the bone-crushing pain of flu. After a couple of hellish days solo, one of my flatmates returned home to find me under a pile of blankets, nearly comatose and threw me in a cold bath. Thank you, Kristo, you may have saved my life. Anyway, this time I have a wonderful, doting husband who helps me make soup and unwrap my presents. Who makes frowny faces with me when the thermometer still reads 39 degrees and who doesn't roll his eyes every time I whimper or steal the remote. I really hope I don't get him sick, but if I do, I'll for sure be a worthy sick companion for him. It's the least I can do.

3. My body and brain are not friends. My brain is all, "let's do this IT'S CHRISTMAS!" But my body is like, "I hate Christmas and I hate you." I thought my body and brain were tight, I thought they were in sync and buddies. I was so wrong. I now have no idea who I can trust.

4. Using the internet while ill is not advised. These past few days I've either been compelled to spend stupid money on shit I don't need to make myself feel better that won't actually make me feel better (Prada handbag.) Or obsessively looking at Facebook to see what a great time all my friends are having on their holidays while I'm sequestered to my sofa. I'm having FOMO (fear of missing out) so severe it's escalated to POME (panic of missing everything) and it's really fucking with me. It's not that I don't want my friends to be having the best time. I really do, but I'd like some fun too, please and I'm not finding it at the bottom of all these boxes of tissues.

5. I am not sexy when I'm sick. I legit tried to do a Monica to Steve the other night. I tried to seduce him with my runny nose, hacking cough and incredibly sore body. He almost fell for it too, poor bugger. I've been trying to do it every day since and now he just laughs in my face. Who knows what lasting effect this will have on my self-esteem.

6. I have great friends and family. From my incredible hubby rebuffing my sexual advances to my friends sending me silly messages and TV recommendations it all helps. And although the hubby is making me watch a space film with a talking raccoon right now, I'll take this over the icy loneliness of 2003 any day.

Moral of the story: Sick sucks, but navigating it's tricky and often unpredictable terrain is best done with company.

Goodbye to Gram

It's been three weeks since my last post and I've missed this.

I went away with my fabulous husband to visit my family and best friend in Massachusetts and then to celebrate our 10-year wedding anniversary in NYC. That trip was all I'd wanted and more. Third row tickets to Hedwig and the Angry Inch with a surprise signing of programs by the cast afterwards, The Christmas Spectacular at Radio City with the Rockettes and of course a lot of time spent shopping, drinking and just being with my wonderful spouse.

However this time spent in America was bittersweet. I heard the news that my seemingly invincible Grandmother had taken ill on Thanksgiving Day. She had been suffering with pneumonia and was struggling to breathe, so into the hospital she went where the news was bleak. The woman who'd survived for three years with a tumor on her lung with no further discomfort was in pain. The woman who to me, since I was little would live forever, it turns out wouldn't.

I believe that there is something that guides us through life. Whether it's a higher power, or a past life dictating our current decisions or pure instinct, I don't know, but I know it's there because it has guided me into and through some of the most important decisions of my life, that at the time seem totally benign. When I decided that we wouldn't go home for Christmas this year I had no idea that decision would enable me to see my Grandmother again. When I insisted that we spend our anniversary in New York and not Budapest I was unaware that would mean I could say goodbye.

My aunt is a rock. A solid, stoic, petite hunk of geode that remains unmoved despite hurricanes, avalanches and many a shit situation. She is the cornerstone of my family and to be able to sit with her while decisions were made and questions were asked was a privilege. I'm not very active in my family. To be honest, the closeness freaks me out and I don't really understand it. I love them all fiercely, but I just don't know how to get involved, to not feel like I'm watching myself pretending to belong.

Gram was being looked after at the Jewish Health Care Center in Worcester, Massachusetts, which to me was the ultimate irony considering she was a staunch Catholic and was not too thrilled when my mom converted to Judaism to marry my dad. Her little hand-carved nativity sat on her bedside table next to her Christmas tree and no one seemed to mind. It's a beautiful place and the care that they gave to my Gram was exceptional. As I watched her work with the OTs there it occurred to me that this would be the last time I would see her.

She looked great. She always looked great: head to toe color coordination, a ring on each finger and her hair shiny and soft. You couldn't help but be impressed with how Gram always put herself together. We talked a little and nurses and doctors came in and out. Steve had a bad cold, so he stayed away. We snuck her brownies and talked about nothing, but we both knew, we all knew that these conversations would be the last we'd have.

Gram died last Tuesday with my aunt by her side. She departed this earth after 95 years of being in very good health and in very good spirits. She said she was ready and I believed her, though I'm not sure I'll ever be ready and I know that we were sure not ready for her to go. Selfishly I always expected her to be there for Christmas. Everyone else I've lost has died so young, so Gram was a lovely reminder that it doesn't always happen that way. But we do all go and although I'm so grateful for the time we have, I will always want more.

I've been told her service was beautiful and that she got everything that she wanted, which she was able to dictate. How few people must get to do that?  My gorgeous and heroic cousin wrote and gave the eulogy and Gram was celebrated. I wasn't able to get back and I'm glad for that. I want to remember her as she was; beautiful, smiling, deaf as a post, but very happy. If there is an afterlife she'll have joined her grandson, her daughter and the love of her life. She'll be in very good company.

Love you , Gram

A raped man is not lucky.

It's become such a frequent occurrence that I write about rape that I'm bloody terrified at what the hell is going on in the world that I have so much to write about. In fact, between my posts on rape I have hardly any time to write about anything else.

I'm going to make this quick because I believe I have made myself perfectly clear on this topic many times before. However, I feel that if I don't lend my voice to this conversation it would be hypocritical. 

I believe Shia LaBeouf when he says he was raped. I believe him because I choose to always support a victim who comes forward. I fully believe men can be raped and I do not think that it is not rape without penetration. I also believe Shia LaBeouf is not mentally well or stable, but this does not undermine or minimize his experience as a victim. 

Too often we seek to excuse the assailant by blaming the victim: he's crazy, he was drunk, he was teasing me. Sound familiar? Probably not. Change the pronoun and I bet it does. Shia was participating in an art instillation, he was not something to be played with. He was acting, as he is paid to do, but this time he was not on film, he was human art.

For the #IAMSORRY exhibition in LA's Cohen Gallery, Shia wore a paper bag over his head which read "I'm Not Famous Anymore."  For a fee, and after waiting in line, spectators could buy the privilege of siting in a room in total silence with the Transformers actor. Is it art? Is it rape?

I understand the critics when they say that because he didn't protest or try and stop the perpetrator it is difficult to believe that he legitimately felt threatened. But vulnerable women will often behave in a similar way. I believe that someone can be paralyzed by fear and confusion and I know that a body will sometimes respond in a way that suggests pleasure, but is really just a physiological response to stimulation. I understand that it was probably awful for Shia as he sat there, confused and afraid of what was happening to him and unable, for whatever reason to stop it.

I am disappointed with the two other collaborators of the show who have now come forward and said that they "put a stop to it." Why wasn't there more security? Why weren't there cameras watching the installation? There would be if he was actually a piece of art, but he was a person pretending to be art. What's the difference? I can't get near the Mona Lisa without a sideways look from an entitled French security guard and 50 cameras on me, but on this occasion, in this gallery someone was able to touch a man's body without permission for a prolonged period of time. Even once the behavior was acknowledged by the others in the gallery, they allowed the assailant and her escort to leave.

Does it smell fishy? You bet it does, but the reality is that the majority of rape cases are fucking weird and fucking complicated. It's never the guy hiding in a bush with a knife. Despite the tinge of tuna, we need to be open to hearing about Shia's assault and stop saying that it didn't happen. 3% of American men will suffer a rape or attempted rape in their lifetime. (RAINN) Why is it so hard to believe that Shia is one of these?

Piers Morgan has come out and declared that Shia's claims are "an insult to all real rape victims everywhere." Why? Because he didn't stop it or say anything afterward? He sure as hell didn't consent either. The fact is this story is incredibly strange, as has been Mr. LaBeouf's behavior as of late. But this doesn't necessarily discredit him as a victim. It's incredibly rare for a man to come forward and to admit sexual assault because it's too often the case that he will be disbelieved and emasculated for speaking out as Piers is doing to LaBeouf now. Let's stop with the victim blaming irrespective of gender. It shouldn't matter.

Full of Thanks

People often ask me what Thanksgiving is all about. Technically I suppose it's the annual American ritual of celebrating mass genocide by eating a turkey, or more controversially a turducken with your closest friends and family. It's about a parade, a four day weekend and it's about football. But as I get less cynical in my old age I think it's about something else, something deeper.

Thanksgiving for me is an excuse to invite round the people I love to say "thank you" for just being around. Not everyone has a home they can invite people to and not everyone has people to invite, so for me it's about reflecting on my life and recognizing that I am incredibly lucky.

I had the company of four incredible women plus my wonderful husband this Thanksgiving and it was lovely. Of course we overindulged in food and libations, but that's all part of the fun. My guests requested that we take it in turns to share what we were thankful for. We must have forgotten because champagne, but I wanted to be incredibly self-indulgent and share my list with you today.

What I am thankful for this Thanksgiving 2014:
1. My wonderful husband- he is a saint and a brilliant partner in everything
2. My fantastic friends- No matter where you are, I am thinking of you this week and today. I have the best group of buddies a girl could hope for and I am so appreciative that we all make time for each other.
3. My family- although they are all far away, it's great that I have a family I can go home to.
4. My job- I am so fortunate that I get to get up every day and look forward to going to work
5. People who read this. My blog is my joy, my respite and my outlet. Thank you for reading, for sharing and for supporting me on this journey.

This has been an incredible year and I'm so looking forward to what 2015 has in store. But for now let's all enjoy the run up to the festive season and remember that it's less about the crap you buy, it's the stuff that's free that endures and that matters.

Happy Thanksgiving week, everyone.

We all know it's Christmas.

Last week I sat through the video debut of the newest Band Aid resurrection of that horribly patronizing Christmas classic designed to inspire us to loosen our purse strings and feel bad about the size of our Christmas dinners, "Do They Know It's Christmas?" This time the focus is on Ebola-ridden Africa and not poverty-stricken Africa, but always Africa. I don't know what I was expecting to have changed, but I was bitterly disappointed that so much remained the same.

There are 54 countries in Africa. It is a widely diverse continent in socioeconomic situation, natural resources, religion and even weather. Contrary to Geldof's lyric, there is usually snow in Africa at Christmas time. It is not the sweltering hot desert populated by children with flies in their eyes and distended bellies. Of course those images we see on infomercials and in Bob's vision are real, but they are not representative of all of Africa.

I worked in fundraising for 7 years, so I understand better than most that these are the images to invoke when you're on the other end of the phone with me and I'm asking you for £3 per month. The same images we use to threaten our ill-behaved and greedy children when they hide their vegetables under their meat. "Starving kids in Africa would be grateful for those broccoli florets." This is how I recognize the dangerous and demeaning message we send to Africa about how we, the intentional community view its citizens. No campaign has demonstrated this to us in the west better than the satirical Radi-Aid Campaign created by Africa for Norway: see it here.

Currently the Ebola outbreak is affecting 6 of Africa's 54 countries, all in West Africa and yes, this is a terrible and catastrophic epidemic in these countries, but not in all Africa. It would be as if the recent snowstorm that left Buffalo, NY under 6 feet of snow was reported as if it were the whole USA that was in a deep freeze. It's totally inaccurate. But we're not talking about something as banal as snow, we're talking about a virus that kills people in ways so violent and painful that to even think about it causes widespread panic.

This panic is detrimental to Africa's recently burgeoning tourism trade. Countries like Kenya and South Africa are suffering as people are confused about what countries in Africa are at risk. These are the same people who think Africa is a country. Formerly plagued as a continent of crime, hunger and poverty, now Africa is contending with the plague of the bloody plague and singles like  "Do They Know It's Christmas?" aren't helping.

I'm not saying don't give to charity, not at all, but know what you are giving to. Do your research and know your cause as well as where your money is going. If you're donating to help treat Ebola and your money's going to "Africa" that shouldn't be good enough. You want it going to Sierra Leone or another affected country. Ask before you donate.

As someone who works for a volunteer organization I know how damaging these perpetuated assumptions can be to a country, or in this case a whole continent. Africa For Norway's latest offering sees a white European desperate to volunteer to "save Africa" but the Africa she wants to save is nothing like the majority of the continent's reality and it's our collective ignorance damaging the international perception of Africa as a whole. Videos like Live Aid's gang of rich, white celebrities continue to sell the "white man's burden" bullshit that we, since colonial times should be trying to distance ourselves from.

Where are all the African artists? Why were Emilie Sande's more sensitive revisions to the song binned? Was changing a few odd lines really enough when the shitty, condescending chorus remains? Of course people in Africa know it's Christmas. The problem is so many of us know nothing about Africa.

How do we solve a problem like Cosby?

I feel like no one's talking enough about Bill Cosby.

I feel like I just found out that the man I looked up to for decades, that I trusted with my affection and that I laughed with every week; same time, same channel is a rapist. Because that's exactly what just fucking happened and I want to talk about it.

Recently I've had painfully sustained conversations re: Kim Kardashian's ass, but as of yet I haven't had one conversation about the accusations facing Bill Cosby. Accusations that I don't hesitate for a second to believe. Not because I'm a woman or a feminist, but because it makes sense. You don't pay people to shut up about things that aren't true. You just don't. You don't just shut the fuck up when people start accusing you of rape. You just don't. And sure, that's not solid evidence, but it's one fucking hell of a hunch.

When the Jimmy Saville case blew up over here in the UK it was on every news channel for...well it still is. He was some radio DJ who liked to fiddle underage girls, boys, the infirmed, you name it. He's also dead, but that didn't stop his face being plastered all over the papers for months, continuing to the present. Speculations flew and in their dozens and now hundreds of people have come forward and started talking. But this is a dead man, and a man who I feel is getting a much tougher time in the media and in the nostalgic minds of children than Mr. Cosby.

Cosby's victims are calling him "this generation's most prolific serial rapist" yet his new stand up show is still due to be broadcast on Comedy Central this month. What a way to begin the festive season: with a rapist telling jokes. Ho, ho, ho. Dapper Laughs gets his show banned for making jokes about rape, but Bill Cosby, an actual real live rapist is still earning a paycheck many, many, many years after these accusations first came to light.

I feel such intense sympathy for Barbra Bowman. Having suffered at the hands of Cosby multiple times in the 80's she spoke out numerous times to a variety of different people. Their advice: shut the fuck up. But she didn't. Bowman has continued to speak out against Cosby and supported a fellow claimant against Cosby in 2006. It's not a surprise if you've never heard of Bowman, surprisingly after numerous rapes at the hands of Cosby her career never really took off.

What blows my mind is that after nearly 10 years of evidence and complaints against Cosby from as many different women, it took a comedian, a man, to point the finger just once and suddenly we were all listening. What the hell does that say about us as a society? Be dubious of women who accuse their attackers, but if a man makes a joke, we better follow that shit up. I'm sorry, but whaaaa?

The statistical data suggests that less than 50% of rape victims in the USA report their rape. And we wonder why this is? The culture of disbelief and senseless shaming of victims is allowing criminals to continue to commit crimes. Our reluctance to react in a way that empowers victims is silencing them. I blogged earlier in the month about how proud I am of Ke$ha for coming forward and pursuing her claims against producer Dr. Luke. I wonder how many of "her people," people employed to protect and look after her told her to shut up about it?

The statute of limitations is up on all of these accusations, so Cosby will unfortunately not be prosecuted for these attacks. To add insult to injury there are people still buying tickets to his stand up show.  "Plenty of people still love Cosby, and they would be willing to overlook just about any allegations in order to see him perform." (Vox, 2014) WHY? Why are we continuing to financially support a man who raped multiple young, vulnerable women? I just don't get it. We continue to support known sexual offenders like Cosvy, Woody Allen and Roman Polanski, but Lena Dunham checks out her sisters vag and she's now a paedophile. Something has to change.

We need to support the victims in the Cosby case. We need to show that it's better to come forward and to make a big noise than to shrink into the shadows. People are not going to believe these women. People are going to say terrible things about them.We need to stop thinking that they should have said more, spoken sooner, done more. They did their best and they are the victims. Bill Cosby is not a victim. Bill Cosby was not your dad. Bill Cosby is most probably a rapist. We need to get used to that idea.

Someone please fix the internet.

I had a conversation about this topic with some of my lady chums the other day, so to avoid being misunderstood I think I need to make some things clear about my position before I proceed.

1. I am not jealous of Kim Kardashian
2. I do not dislike Kim Kardashian
3. I do not think mothers can't be sexual beings
4. I think Kim is a beautiful woman

Now that that's out of the way let's talk about those photos. Those photos that showed a cartoonish derriere attached to half of the body of a woman with Kim Kardashian's face. She's like a centaur, but instead of being cross-bred with a powerful horse, she's genetically a half sequined tablecloth.

If you want to learn more about objectifying images I recommend watching Caroline Heldman's TED talk here. She's got a very easy checklist you can follow to determine whether or not you are looking at an objectifying image. She emphasizes that if the whole of the person is not displayed in a commercial image, they are not being viewed as an actual person. They are just choice exposed parts. Usually a woman's exposed parts to sell shit. Cars, cigarettes, magazines. In Kim's case, she is presented as no more than her giant, photoshopped ass, which is being used to sell shit-loads of issues of Paper. What's not to smile about? So much.

In my earlier conversation, it became abundantly clear that people feel like those Kim Kardashian photos are harmless. That she's just "owning her sexuality." I say she's not. If she were owning her sexuality, if she were owning anything, even her own body, those photos would not be as retouched and Photoshopped as they are. Just like the rest of us, Kim Kardashian probably hates her body. But it's her one commodity, so she's happy to let other people manipulate it, exploit it and warp it in ways that make the rest of us feel the need to warp our own bodies in return.

I hate the policing of other women's bodies, so I won't do that. I'll police the selling of unattainable, unnatural bodies as reality. We are bombarded every second of every day with images telling us who to be and how to look. If you think you're unaffected, you're delusional. If you think these pictures won't one day affect your children, you're delusional. These photos are at best creating an unrealistic idea of beauty for your children. Both sons and daughters.

Between songs about "skinny bitches" and "big booties." Between Meghan Trainor trying to be retro and J-Lo trying to be relevant we are a society obsessed with sending mixed messages to women about our bodies. Be skinny! No fuck skinny, get a fat ass, but still stay skinny! Wait...you gotta get some bass in your treble. What the fuck does that even mean? And why the hell are we putting ourselves through all this bullshit? So someone else can use our body to make a buck. I'd like to mention that Kim didn't even get paid for this shoot. Her desperation to work with the photographer meant that she earned not a penny for the photos that are currently selling millions of magazines. Sad face.

In other news Kim Kardashian's naked ass has repercussions beyond totally skewing your body image. Maybe white America can't see that it affects not just white America, but I can tell you it does. Using a woman's naked body to sell a product is wrong and I'll tell you why: It sends a really dangerous message about who a woman is. Don't believe me? Think I'm overreacting? Pack your bags and get on a plane. There's a whole wide world of misogyny out there beyond the 50 states.

Those photos will ultimately contribute to the overall impression the international community has about me as a woman. These kind of photos are part of the reason I got my breasts grabbed on the bus, the reason that a man with a motorbike hit me hard enough to knock me onto the road and then got off his bike to feel me up. Even the reason I witnessed another woman being harassed into oblivion last weekend on a train from Scotland.

As much as I am a fan of naked bodies and I think we should get them out more often, we should not be using them to peddle goods. We're better than that. The over-sexualization of women to sell products is harmful. It trivializes our sexuality and sends the very dangerous message that everything is for sale.

Please understand that I'm in no way saying that this is right. I just know it's true. I know that a recent influx of porn, easier access to the internet and newly imported shows like The Real Housewives franchise and Keeping Up With The Kardashians has helped to mold the preconceptions international men have of me. The color of my skin coupled with my accent is a flashing red sign above my head saying "fuck me" "touch me" "buy me." And it's fucking scary.

These latest Kardashian photos are not good for anyone but Paper's bank balance. Kim's naked body is helping someone else to get rich. They are not contributing to the empowerment of women, at best they are contributing to a conversation that I would be more inclined to engage in if these photos were being hung in a gallery. They didn't even contribute to her yearly income. One thing I know that these photos will do for sure, is continue to propagate the segregation and victimization of women internationally.