Ideas, Not Identity

Religion During Coronavirus. It is time we came to our senses. My views on religion are well known to those who know me and who also read my work. I often flitter between agnostic, atheist and anti-theist. I believe that everyone is agnostic whether they like it or not; nobody has proof of any gods, yet nobody can disprove them either (although it isn’t our job to do so). However, I do strongly believe that they do not exist, in which I usually take my seat in the atheistic group. Recently though, my anti-theist thoughts and feelings have been growing, a few of which I thought I would share with you. During the weird and wonderful times of the Coronavirus pandemic, I saw a power shift between the scientific community paired with government officials, and religion as a whole. Witnessing such a change sparked a great interest in me. With Easter essentially cancelled, places of worship closed to members of their congregations, and the elderly forced to listen to their priest and paris

Cancel Culture. Scotland's Attempt at Banning my Blog.   I am glad that Christopher Hitchens is dead. Not because I think of him as a foul-mouthed, blasphemous, egotistic character whose infamous written attacks and venomous Hitch-slaps brought fear to anyone remotely against his views. That’s probably why I love him. No, I am glad he is no longer around to live in our society because I know he would have met his match in 2020. Not through debate or discussion or a diligent exchange of conflicting views, but by the life-sucking pit of endless doom, that arrives at the door of many unsuspecting authors, editors and influencers alike, branding its rainbow-patterned scythe and slightly-different-but-still-equally-as-important rainbow-patterned cloak, bellowing out that their time has come. Hitchens would have been, like countless other individuals who express any view that is anti anything of which the world is evermore pro , succumbed to Cancel Culture . Let me take a few step

Black Lives Matter. This blog supports [insert current topical issue here]. On June 2 nd 2020, like anyone else who happened to open any form of social media, I was met with a sea of black squares. Much to my confusion, I quickly became aware that a modernistic, peaceful protest had erupted across popular sites such as Facebook and Instagram. #BlackOutTuesday had begun. And this got me thinking. For as long as I can remember, I have always felt somewhat uneasy about large-scale mass showings of support for popular social movements that seem to come and go as the months pass by. There is always a feint feeling of falseness that taints them all, which I slowly grew wary of. Every year when June rolls around, and I look forwards to seeing anyone affiliated with the LGBTQ+ community parading their freedom to be who they truly are, matched with a celebration of how far society has come in finally accepting the fact that love is love. Again however, something never quite feels

Genital Mutilation. Right, buckle in. I shall start with some good, actually great news, from the continent of controversy that is Africa. On May 1 st 2020, Sudan took a huge step away from their usual barbarism, and have finally made female genital mutilation, or FGM, a crime. At last, some sense was found and those in power have begun to realise that the forced removal of the labia minora and majora, clitoris, and final sewing up of a child’s vagina, is perhaps not something they should be advocating (the fact that it only warrants three years in prison and a fine is still utterly ridiculous, but small steps…). How this is even a practise, that occurs in twenty-seven countries in Africa, Asia and the middle east, is truly incomprehensible to me. And if this is not the case with you, reader, then take a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror, and throw yourself into it, please. The topic for this essay however is not the recent successes of female rights activists

What happened to comedy? I’m not sure if you’ve heard recently, but Donald Trump is an orange man with funny hair. Have you heard? You may also be unaware that Boris Johnson too, can look strange. And MY oh my when the two are next to each other! With all that hair, just there flapping around! Have you heard this? No? Or maybe that Jeremy Corbyn looks a bit different to other politicians? No? Dressed kind of like a teacher, instead of wearing a suit? If not, then OH BOY do I have a new experience that will blow your mind, right out from under that rock. It’s called Channel 4 . Minimal effort, maximum effect. I’m pretty sure that’s the middle name of Nish Kumar. That effect of course, being to make eighteen-year-old, Politics and International Relations students giggle themselves to death. Because if you hadn’t heard, they voted labour. And they hate the Tories. I was always told to write about that I know. And I know how much I hate modern day, crappy, leftist, hogwash ‘comed

Sexism and why it isn’t everywhere. Recently online, I stumbled across a situation that was not too uncommon. I seem to never be more than a few clicks away from left-wing comedians making jokes about Trump, pornography, or strangers vexing their opinions on social inequalities. Today, it was the latter of the three that had my attention. A regular, bland online advertisement portrayed the following, seemingly harmless scenario. A man and a woman, seemingly a couple, were found reclined in bed together. Our man in question, sat with his slicked back, jet black hair and paisley-print pyjamas, held in front of him a copy of a financial broadsheet. To his left, his equally attractive partner sat with a delightful array of breakfast options, somehow managing to fit both English and continental options onto one tray, placed elegantly beside her. A somewhat harmless image so far, with the only striking thought so far being what the man could find so funny in a financial paper. Y

Vitality's Cancer. Depression. The less attractive ‘D word’ on the lips of many a student, that most would also rather keep hidden from peers and parents alike. The numbers of those affected is unfathomable to say the least. With such an apparent problem, one would assume the task of tackling the totalitarian tumour of happiness would be a core ideology of the masse . Yet this is the perfect example of how the growth is granted such room to thrive, for how does one fight in a battle it does not understand? Popular belief for many years, has been that the antithesis to depression is of course happiness. But this meek, simplistic view only inhibits the ability to construe a rough insight into the deepest of hellholes a depressive suffers and fights. (The synonymous cancer-depression overlaps are a fitting metaphor throughout). Depression is not the lack of happiness, but an overwhelming lack of vitality . To lose such bounce, buoyancy, or brio, leaves one at the peril of an

Trans itioning. “I feel I am a woman trapped inside the body of a man.” In today’s society, with a choice of male, female, neutral or other pronouns, such a statement is becoming more commonly heard. Training courses are regularly offered to those working in health-care, social-care, and mental-health settings. Despite the seemingly simple choice at hand, delving deeper into this utterance raises some deep ideas and interesting conflictions around the inner workings of the mind of someone who is transgender. There are two broad, multi-layered points I wish to explore: dealing with what is meant by ‘self’ or ‘I’, as well as the ideas of ‘being’. The tone of this short essay is not to seek offence, yet simply to explore ideas that are often not discussed, through ignorance or fear, with the possibility of allowing readers to take a closer look into the workings of the minds of those who are transgender. We may not come to a concrete conclusion, but a journey can still be wor

The world owes you nothing, get over it. We like to think the world is fair. Growing up, fairy tales are told to us where good defeats evil, and the world is returned to right. It’s everywhere, from bedtime stories to B-list Hollywood; the same story plays out. However, this idyllic narrative lies deeper than one might first think. Parents and carers raising children seem to reinforce it without realising. ‘Do this thing you don’t want to do and afterwards you can have a treat!’- one endures bad, but in the end, rewards follow and all is well. Raised as a strict Catholic, any remotely bad behaviour of mine that was followed by any form of slight ill against me (the time difference between the two encounters never seemed to truly matter) and this was deemed as God’s way of punishing me. “What was that, Boy?! You took my name in vain? How DARE you! (even though that was actually my plan all along) Here is a splinter on your thumb for your sinning!” that sort of thing, apparentl