Thank you, Diane [Diane Balser, the International Liberation Reference Person for Women], for asking about male domination early in our lives. It’s a chance for me to look again at the many early hurts that are holding back my strong and powerful self and leadership.


I hardly want to talk about the multitude of ways that male domination has affected me. It feels like talking about it is rude, too much, disgusting, attention seeking—all the things I’ve been told to make me shut up [be quiet] about it. I feel like I will be killed if I open up. I think many raised-poor women can barely look at or tell their stories.

Violence and threats of violence started for me in the womb. I was conceived when my sister was five months old. My mum wasn’t ready and couldn’t afford me—she told me this many times when I was a child. And apparently my dad kicked my mum in the stomach when I was in the womb. I remember seeing her bent over in fear when I was a child.

My raised-poor leader, Julie Longden, always reminds me that it is safe to breathe now, safe to let go. When counselling with raised-poor women, I’ve noticed a need for us to slow down, breathe, and let go of all the tension in our bodies; to connect even if it feels impossible. We get to consider having the connections that got so messed up by the oppressive society.


I think a marvelous attribute of raised-poor women is that we value connection more than anything. Even at work, it’s not just about getting the job done; it’s about connecting and having fun.

I was given a direction to go get my dad back after not being in touch with him for ten years. I contacted him, and we had some good and terrible exchanges over many years. Even though he had been a monster in our home, he told me just before he died that he knew I was a feminist and that he regretted the life he had led. He had been a coal miner and worked one mile under, ten miles in. He said that it had been red hot and terrifying and that the only way the workers had been able to keep going was by telling jokes, many of them racist and sexist. He said that he wished it could have been different.


My working-class leader, Barbara Thompsett, has often said that for working-class people, really big things happen one after another, and we’ve been trained to pick ourselves up and get the job done on the barest of discharge—because getting the job done is “what we are here for.” I guess that’s the message in a Protestant-dominated capitalist world: the job is more important than who is getting hurt.

I have been using a direction of self-appreciation without reservations—saying that I have a wonderful body and a brilliant mind. These words carry me to places I haven’t dared to be in before. I think my posture is changing. My body feels stronger, and I am better at making sentences.

I want to appreciate how fortunate I have been to know great people in Co-Counselling, people who have dedicated their lives to human liberation. I met Harvey Jackins once. He was relentless in working to end sexism and classism. He and many others have given me a chance to live a good life.

Now I want more. I want this nonsense of oppressions and oppressor distress—and all that holds women back from being big, bold, and magnificent—to end.