Kill The Bill 03/04/21

 Monday 21st March, the first official day of spring. It’s a shame that the first signs of new life don't correspond with a new, much needed, government. Especially since the current fascists in power have recently been in debate about making the ‘Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill’ official law. This would, amongst other issues, infringe our human right to protest. Apparently unrelatedly, the possible promulgation of this bill was raised following the ‘Black Lives Matters’ and the toppling of the slave trader Edward Colston statue last year. But yeah sure, the UK government isn’t racist. 

Whilst it seems only fitting that my morning was indeed spent wandering lonely as a cloud through hosts of golden daffodils, my afternoon saw not blossoms but rather protesters who seemed to stretch in never-ending line through the streets of Manchester. Certainly the company was less jocund and more pissed off, but nevertheless, my heart did with pleasure fill, as we screamed in unison: “kill the bill”. 

Almost amusingly, the recently proposed government bill which would allow police to impose limitations on protests and effectively limit our freedom of speech has incited numerous protests of retaliation throughout the UK. Police would be able to set a start and finish time, subject those caught vandalising memorials or statues to up to 10 years in prison, and even fine individuals holding placards up to £2,500. 

Where to begin with the number of things wrong with the fact that a dead slave trader’s statue seemingly evokes more emotion in the police force than living rapists, with only the 1.7% of the latter being prosecuted. Although I possess both the audacity and the lowly opinion of Colston to assume that he was probably guilty of that too. 

This says nothing more to me than a pathetic attempt by Priti Patel and the home office to try and sweep the problems women and other disadvantaged groups face under the rug. Let’s face it, given Patel’s history of alleged bullying, it’s hardly surprising that she would support a police force which persists despite 57% of its members having experienced bullying amongst themselves at some point. It is a statistic which gives new depth to the crowd’s shouts of “join us you cowards”. 

Since when did protesting and having any sort of autonomy become illegal? We seem to have regressed as a society in which our very desire to protect ourselves, be it against strangers on the street or from our very legal systems which fail to service justice, can be policed and reduced. With this blatant breaching of our human rights, every day seems more like ‘1984’, Orwell’s misogyny included. 

It’s all very well saying “educate your sons”, but it’s the fully grown adults who reside over jurisprudence and the law courts who are the real problem. Who failed to teach them that it’s not ok to allow the frequent non-convicted perpetration of sexual assault and misogyny to continue? It doesn’t matter that these violated and oppressed women may be the mothers, sisters, partners or daughters of whoever, because we as a society ought to embrace our responsibility of protecting ourselves and each other, regardless of who we are to each other. As far as anyone can stand and point the finger at others for allowing this to happen, are we ourselves not somewhat guilty if we don’t stand up and say “no”? Say actually, “we’ve had enough”?

Because it’s not fair. And how much are Wordsworth’s words really worth if we don’t take a minute to actually reflect on the horrendous injustice of modern day society? It’s unfair that we have to send a text when we get home because assault or harassment proves to be a very legitimate concern. It’s unfair that we have to limit where we can go, or when, the darkness posing a multitude of potential threats. It’s unfair that rarely are we given the voice to express this injustice, and that even when we do, it feels like screaming into an empty abyss. No one listens until a woman like Sarah Everard shows up dead, and even then only because Wayne Couzens, the man who killed her, is supposed to be a symbolic upholder of the law.

The protest was organised by ‘Sisters Uncut’, a feminist direct action group combatting domestic violence. Many individuals were invited up to speak and  each painful and downright outrageous experience shared was met with support and solidarity. To study and discuss feminism is one thing, but I remember few times when, as a woman, I have felt as empowered as I did on Saturday. The feeling of witnessing woman after woman revel in the spotlight of using their voice, a right disguised as a privilege for too long, and which the new proposed bill is now trying to take away from us, genuinely evoked in me a sort of catharsis. It was a relief to finally scream in solidarity against all the frustration we feel on a daily basis because of how we’re gendered and confined by a patriarchal society. It’s true you don’t know what you've got til it’s gone, but it’s even harder to realise what you should have when nobody tells you in the first place that your voice deserves to be heard. 

So we made ourselves heard. One woman directed her angry tirade towards the policeman, demanding to know why “it took you 3 hours to get to my house when I was in danger, yet it took you 6 minutes to get here today.” Another woman stood up to talk about her sexual assault that had happened literally the night before. I can’t believe this is still happening. 

A woman told us how she’d brought the topic of austerity up to the middle class white professors of her social work university degree and had received virtually no support or information to help her try and combat it. She’d then been forced to drop out due to financial reasons. Austerity does work in not so mysterious ways, doesn’ it. I know nothing about that woman but the passion with which she spoke of the social work care system suggests that she was probably right when she said she “would have been a fucking good social worker”, and the crowd agreed. 

Another woman from Syria asked why she’d come to the UK for a better life and more opportunities “only to be faced with this shit”. Her joke about being deported just for using her voice at the protest was met with laughter, but it was bittersweet. With a compassion they didn’t deserve, she also rightly expressed that the problem wasn’t the individual policemen (well, not all of them, but SCAB doesn’t have quite the same ring to it) but rather the system in place, which is the real enforcer of oppression. 

Behind me in the crowd were women bashing pots and pans together in a cacophony of support for the oppressed. It was a semiotic repurposing of the very tools of oppression (Sorry Nigella) I’m sure even Martha Rosler would have approved of. 

The protest itself was held in Stephen’s Square, across the tram tracks from Manchester’s Emmeline Pankhurst statue. I won’t lie, she’s not my go-to feminist icon. I tend to feel a bit of hostility towards feminists who think only upper-class women should have rights. Call me ungrateful I dare you. But on Saturday she was surrounded by bouquets of flowers as a gesture of alliance with and support for victims of gender based violence. Thus it seemed only fitting to “make more noise than anybody else...to make yourself more obtrusive than anybody else... to fill all the papers more than anybody else”. Following her advice, we did what we could. She did give the 40% of women the vote I suppose. 

Those who say it’s not all men are right, but 97% is damn sure close enough to all women. And it’s 97% more than it should be. Saturday’s protest reinstalled my confidence in women of this generation, that perhaps we will be the makers of our own emancipation after all.