The Writing Midwife

MY LIFE AS A MIDWIFE

[thewritingmidwife]

Yes You Can

I often hear women saying “I can’t do this!” while giving birth. Sometimes they are afraid, because they have never done it before and don’t know what their body is capable of doing ever so beautifully. Sometimes they have been made afraid, because of wrong choice of words from health care workers who, most often with the right intentions, tried to address risks and possibilities with them. Sometimes, they have a gut feeling something is not going quite right, and they are trying to save themselves and their baby from complications.

When women claim they Can’t Do This, the first question that should come to mind is why she feels she can’t. By just stating that “Yes, you can, don’t worry about it”, the problem won’t go away. Even in between the waves of contractions is a better time to find out what’s going on underneath the fear, than to bluntly dismiss their feelings and leave the room. I have guided multiple woman during childbirth, who at first really felt they couldn’t do it, and by talking to me about their fears they birthed their baby calmly and in rest.

And sometimes, the feeling of Can’t Do This isn’t said out loud but only suffered in silence. Dilation not progressing as quickly as you’d expect it to, baby not descending, mother in more pain than usual… with all these things, and more, it’s important to keep in mind that her mind may be filled with dark clouds of fear and insecurity. Be the person who helps her through it and make this birth a joyful experience to look back on.

This process can take up to a few hours, because addressing your fears, naming them and looking them straight into the eye, isn’t as easy at is sounds on paper. Don’t worry if you don’t know the solution to her fear immediately, if you don’t know what to say to her. By listening to her and acknowledging her feelings, you’re probably doing more for her than you would have thought you could.

[thewritingmidwife]

My first year as a midwife

I can’t believe it’s been a year! 

Last year I… …felt tens of dozens of pregnant bellies …talked hours on the phone with mothers needing someone to talk to …saw more adorable little babies than I can count …worked numerous nights and fueled on endorphins alone …shared laughter and sadness and everything in between

47% of the babies I helped into this world in my first year as a midwife were born at home!

Girls ruled the statistics by a dazzling 53% of all the babies born into my hands!

Primum non nocere. The rite of passage.

The one who guided and loved me through it all. Who made it all happen by holding my hand and giving me his shoulder to cry on or to lay my head upon when it was too heavy to be carried by my neck alone. The one who sacrificed more than I would ever feel comfortable asking of him. The one who stood by me through every step, hump and victory. The one who I’m eternally grateful for sharing this crazy life with.

I love you immensely and unconditionally.

[thewritingmidwife]

The writing-midwifery combination

Those who have been following me, or know me in person, know I have two big passions: writing and midwifery. Some would say this is a weird combination, but I’m here to tell you it’s more logical than one might think. As I’m dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s on Desperandum, this moment would be as good as any to explain the inevitable connection between my two favorite things.

For starters, both being a midwife and being a writer require having a creative mind. And as my fellow artists would know: inspiration strikes in the weirdest and most unexpected moments. It wouldn’t be the first time I was in the middle of guiding a baby into this world when I thought of the beginning of a story plot or a good first line of a short story. Of course, I wouldn’t use someone else’s life story for my own writing without them knowing it. But being in a tricky situation at work, or hearing a terribly bad joke an anxious birth partner blurts out make my writing-brain-senses work overtime.

Writing and midwifery have a lot of similarities. With both, you get lack of sleep (because with both, you simply don’t stop until it’s finished), you’re close to a nervous breakdown regularly and go through about 35023498 emotions before wrapping it up. Maybe that’s the kick of it: you never know what you’re getting before you’re done. And when you finish, you can hardly wait to start again.

[thewritingmidwife]

I started a fundraiser!

Ever since I was a little girl, writing has been my biggest passion. Most of my writing has been private, for my eyes only. However, I've finally decided to take the leap and publish my first collection of short stories, Desperandum. Do you know the feeling you get when you look around and have to ask yourself what the world is coming to, the feeling that humankind is filled with desperation and the last straw finally broke the camel's back? I'm very familiar with that feeling. My desperation has flourished into something of which I'm very proud: my first book -- a combination of horror and thriller stories that make you think that the things you have read just can't be true (but they are). To publish my work I need funds. In my early twenties, having just received my university degree, I don't have all the means to make that happen. With your contribution, however, I can make my dream come true. What do you get in return? First of all, you get my eternal gratitude. Any amount you can spare, however small it may seem, will be of tremendous help and I am genuinely grateful to everyone who is able and willing to help me make my dream come true. To generous donors I would be happy to give something extra in return. For donations of €50,- ($56 USD, £45 GBP) or more, you get a signed copy of my book and a personal note written inside the book. For donations of €75,- ($84 USD, £67 GBP) or more, you get two signed copies of the book -- one for yourself and one to give to whomever you like. If you'd like to donate €150,- ($168 USD, £134 GBP) or more, I will write you a short story about whatever you please. We can brainstorm together on a Skype call and you will receive the story digitally. Thank you very much in advance. Sincerely, Pia Go to www.gofundme.com/desperandum and have a look. All help is very much appreciated <3 

[thewritingmidwife]

Alchemilla vulgaris

At the age of 10, 12 years ago, I menstruated for the first time. I struggled with heavy flow and excruciating cramps over the years (which, in my opinion, bleached and nasty chemical-filled tampons and pads didn’t help with, but I’ll keep that story for another time). I filled my body with pain killers and rotted on the couch with hot water bottles for a week straight… Until I found the magic cure.

🌿 Alchemilla vulgaris 🌿

Around my 20th birthday, dealing with yet another horrible period I have been considering my normal, my mother gave me a bag of dried herbs. I was sceptic at first, because how could a simple plant help me deal with this problem I’ve been dealing with for a decade straight? But it did.

Alchemilla vulgaris, better known as lady’s mantle, is my go-to from the very first cramp onwards. I have been talking about it to all of my friends and most of my clients, and I think everyone should know. The benefits are huge!

🌱 It reduces cramps, as it reduces the tension in your blood vessels (which means that it even would help with high blood pressure!)

🌱 It helps your womb contract, which reduces blood loss

🌱 It has a positive effect on your hormone levels, so say goodbye to the huge mood swings, insomnia and period-diarrhea

🌱 It helps with anxiety, which obviously a lot of us unnecessarily struggle with during that time of the month

So, whether you’re in the reproductive fase of your life and dealing with menstruation, just gave or about to give birth and need something to help your womb recover, or dealing with menopause: lady’s mantle is the herb you should turn to.

Drink as much as you like, after letting the dried leaves sit for at least 10-15 minutes, either warm or cold (lady’s mantle home made iced tea is so good you guys) and enjoy worry-free periods, just like me!

[thewritingmidwife]

The Badass better known as Mother Nature

I was working on the delivery ward, it was a quiet shift without much to do. Then, a laboring woman came in together with her midwife. She had strong contractions, her labor had started a few hours earlier, a little before her due date. In the past couple of weeks, she had felt her baby move less three times before. She went for a hospital check up every time, and all was well every time. The last time only being the day before. The doctors talked about inducing her, but she hadn’t made up her mind just yet.

This woman was about to deliver her third child, and was kind enough to let me attend her birth along with her own midwife and the loving support of her husband, sister and mother in law. The birth of thirds can be a tricky one: I don’t know why, but they often are slower than second births (yet quicker than first babies, thankfully). But not this one. In what felt like no time, this mother gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby.

While she held her newborn and kissed his little head, a little puddle of blood was forming on top of the mother’s stomach. At first, I thought it must be a little delivery-blood, as we so often see. But as both her own midwife and I weren’t quite sure, we decided to inspect the umbilical cord and saw that it had in fact torn! Thankfully, baby didn’t seem to notice and was completely fine.

Then, it was time to deliver the placenta. I was a little scared to pull because of the torn umbilical cord, but nature had my back and the placenta was born easily and without too much blood loss. As I always do, I inspected the placenta carefully while dabbing a piece of gauze to remove excess blood to improve my sight. While I was gently dabbing, I tore the placenta completely! Huge chunks of placenta came undone while I was simply stroking it. I had never seen anything like this before…

When I think about this afterwards there is only one explanation I can give: Nature is sacred and divine, and has her own ways way beyond our understanding. The reason why she had felt her baby move less probably had something to do with the fragile placenta and umbilical cord. But her body fixed this issue itself and labor started before things could go wrong. Hail, hail to a woman’s body!

[thewritingmidwife]

A day in the life of a fasting midwife

“Isn’t it hard to fast while you’re working?” I get this question on a daily basis, so I decided to show you guys how one of my working days looked last week. Note that this, thankfully, isn’t how all of my fasting days look. It might have been my hardest fast ever. So here we go!

9:28 pm – I broke fast, 9 days into ramadan. The weather had made it easy on me and I had started my 24-hour shift about 2,5 hours before.

01:30 am – sleep time. I usually wait until suhur to go to sleep, but as I was on call with several ladies who might give birth, I decided to go to sleep early. Irony had it that I couldn’t sleep, as I was full and therefore wide awake.

03:52 am – suhur time. Gulped a whole lot of water down as I was still wide awake anyway.

04:15 am – still no sleep. Telephone rings. Baby number 1 about to come!

05:00 am – examined her, and found out she was about 4 centimeters dilated. Meaning sleep would have to wait, with no coffee to keep me awake this time.

08:00 am – 6 centimeters. Another phone call. Baby number 2 decided today would be a good day to enter the world.

11:30 am – started pushing with lady number 1. Lady number 2 was around 2 centimeters dilated.

2:07 pm – baby number 1 is born in the hospital. Pushed at home for an hour, didn’t go as quickly as we hoped. Hospital staff helped and both baby and mother were happy and healthy.

3:00 pm – rushed over to lady number 2. 4 centimeters. Time to go to the hospital.

5:00 pm – lady number 2 gets an epidural. Time to make postnatal home visits.

7:00 pm – back at the office after postnatal home visits. All mums and babies happy and healthy. Shift is over.

7:30 pm – time for a quick nap

9:30 pm – fast finally broken: water! Veggies! Carbs!

And all was well.

[thewritingmidwife]

We fight back.

[thewritingmidwife]

Abortion ban

Here we are, it’s mid-2019 (really?! Yeah, really) and life is mad. Scientists discovered how to 3D print a working lung, people have discovered that there’s water on Mars and in China they even managed to clone a monkey. But here we are, what feels like so far back in the day when it was even a question whether the Earth was flat or not. I’m talking about Alabama’s abortion ban. For a country shouting how civilised and important it is, this feels like a sick joke.

When 25 white men decided that women do not have a say to what happens to their own body, they thought they had fixed that issue. Do they not know that a woman is stronger and more determined than that? Do they really believe that they have stopped abortions all together?

A woman who genuinely doesn’t want to be pregnant will find her ways to terminate the pregnancy. And if she’s not allowed to do this in a sterilized, clean environment she will find other ways. Think dirty equipment, dangerous procedures or non-qualified people who will provide abortions on a black market. Maybe some women will resort to another country to do so, language barriers and unknown ways laying ahead of them. Not to mention the extra time it costs, with the foetus growing every day and the risks and heartache increasing.

And did they think about the abusers and rapists who will knock a foetus or even their victims to death, as these women have no right to safely abort the pregnancy, just to cover up what they did? Did they think about the children who will be born out of necessity, who will end up in foster care or grow up in extreme poverty and see their life go to waste? What, exactly, is pro-life about that?

In a world as developed as the world we live in, this is unacceptable. Yet here we are, men are forcing themselves onto women and telling them what to do with their bodies. Women will fight back. Take note.

[thewritingmidwife]

Midwives: defenders of women’s rights

Today is International Day of the Midwife. With ramadan coming up right at the same time, it feels nothing but natural to combine these two in my post today.

As our beloved prophet Mohammed, peace be upon him, said: heaven lies beneath the feet of our mothers. Our mothers risk their life for us, even way before we ever come into this world. Our mothers never stop loving us, even though we might cause them heartache and pain. In Islam, women and particularly mothers, are highly respected. There is this one hadith (teaching of the daily life of our prophet) which I have always loved and which many muslims will know of: A man came to the prophet and asked him to whom he should be good in order to benefit the most of his good deeds. The prophet answered: "Your mother." The man asked, who next? The prophet answered: "Your mother." The man repeated his question, to which the answer didn't change: "Your mother." Finally our prophet said: "Then, to your father." There is no doubt about the high status of mothers, and I personally believe we should treat all women and mothers like this, all over the world.

And this is exactly what our duty as midwives is. Midwives are defenders of women's rights, and we should take that role very seriously. We see strength, courage and happy endings on a daily basis. But we also see discrimination, assault and neglect regularly. All midwives should be feminists. It doesn't matter how we do it, as long as we always stay on top on what's important: to defend our women's rights.

Women's rights have been threatened since ancient times. But it still as important as ever. As midwives we should protect women's bodily integrity and autonomy. We should stand by all women and mothers. We should get angry together with them. We should fight with them, we should stand with them. Not only we should, we must.

[thewritingmidwife]

The midwife-mother relationship

The midwife-mother relationship is one of the most important relationships in a woman’s journey in becoming a mother. A woman growing and bringing a human being in to this world is the utmost sacred task of all the tasks imaginable in this world. It’s not an easy task, although it may look like one at times (mostly because women are badasses who can rock everything, duh). Becoming a mother is probably the most beautiful and the most difficult thing a woman will ever do. Regardless of how her pregnancy goes, how she births and what happens when the baby is born. Becoming a mother will end a huge part of a woman’s life and start a whole new one at the same time.

A midwife is, as I’ve said multiple times before, truly with woman. It’s not just the literal meaning of the word [mid-wife], but it’s the core of a midwife’s being. A midwife is not just a birth worker who helps baby into the world, we as midwives embody the role of mother, sister and keeper of the mother all at once. Someone a mother can turn to when she first finds out she’s pregnant, or when she worries about the wellbeing of the baby. Even when she wants sexual advice or when she needs someone to rant to about the littlest of things. Us midwives will drop everything when one of ‘our’ women need us, and even though that sometimes comes at a cost (being a midwife ultimately means planning everything around new life, every day, always), it’s one of the greatest joys there is.

Being someone’s midwife means a lot of things, but it all surrounds one ultimate goal: to empower every woman, who is the only one to decide how to birth her baby. As her midwife, we should encourage and empower her to do so and to never forget she is a queen. Midwives are women’s birth advocates when they are at their most vulnerable and at their most strong, thus their relationship must be cherished at all times.

[thewritingmidwife]

IUD-joy

I spent all of yesterday inserting IUD's and I'm so excited! For one, inserting IUD's is hella fun to do in itself (and the device is wonderful, if you think about it, such a small thingy can prevent pregnancies and even if you want to without hormones!). And it feels like truly ending a cycle with someone, which is very special as well.

I must admit I was a little scared at first. I remember my own experience with the insertion of my IUD being painful and stressful. At 17, I never had a baby and one day went to my GP to tell her I wanted to stop with the pill and any hormones for that matter (yes, I was on the pill at 17 and had been for 4 years, which wasn't at first to prevent pregnancy at all but my old, male GP thought putting me on the pill at 13 would help me get rid of my acne- it didn't and the hormones made me crazy even when I switched to a lower dose later on). "Well," she said, "an IUD is your only option then." And that was that. Luckily I was a midwifery student and theoretically knew what this was and meant for me, but I got no information whatsoever about the procedure and whatnot.

I read on a forum that getting an IUD was terrible and awful, and that fainting was very likely to happen especially as I was so young and never had a baby myself. But it really felt like the only thing to do, so I went. In my memory, the procedure itself lasted hours. Followed by more painful hours in which I wasn't able to move because of the excruciating cramps. Now, almost 5 years later, I am happy that I did it. But I also thought this painful memory could have been a lot better, and thus my wish to do it better grew.

After days of studying and training, yesterday was finally the day I completed my training by inserting IUD's on actual women. I expected that they would be in pain as I, and all the women I read about back in the day on the interwebs, were. But I was wrong. These women, whom I had seen in their pregnancy, postpartum and some even during labour, all left the consultation room smiling. "Was that it?" and "I nearly felt it!" were a few comments I heard afterwards.

That made me realize the importance of complete midwifery care even more. I truly believe that the deep trust and comfort these women and I shared, as most women hopefully feel with their midwife, made the experience as mellow as it was. And I truly hope all women can consult their midwife for something as delicate as this one day. Midwifery is about being with woman, all women.

[thewritingmidwife]

Pussy Perils, vol. 2

About a month ago, I talked to you about going to the doctor for a yoni check up. Now, let's review the results. I'm in shock about the advice this doctor gave me. I seriously thought this was common knowledge by now and the fact that a doctor is giving these advices... Read for yourself.

After hearing everything was just fine, she told me I could keep it this way if I just paid extra attention to proper hygiene (mind you, this was after I told her how I maintain myself clean by washing with water only). Her top advice was that every woman should clean her vagina with soap to prevent bacteria from colonising... HOLD UP. This is untrue.

✨ Your vagina is a smart, self cleaning part of your body. With pH-levels that vary from 3.8 to 4.5 (depending on how close you are to your menopause) your vagina is naturally rather acidic. This is important, because this actually protects your vagina from infections and wrong bacteria from growing and damaging your lovely ladybits! ✨ Regular soap has pH-levesl of about 9, which means that soap is very alkaline, especially when compared to the pH-levels in your vagina. Washing your vagina with soap will therefore make your vagina less acidic. Bacteria will surely feel welcome to party till the am and it's only a matter of time until your vajayjay will get infected. ✨ What about soap especially designed for us ladies, you say? These soaps have pH-levels around 5 to 6, which makes them a little acidic indeed, but not nearly as acidic as your natural yoni flora. Therefore, also these special soaps will ruin your body's own pH-levels and leave you with the problems that come with that. Also, special vaginal soaps are often 'scent-neutralising' by perfuming your natural odour to something sweet and flowery. Breaking news: vaginas are not made to smell like daisies.

Your yoni is NOT dirty, despite what we are taught to believe, and does not have to be treated as such. She is perfectly capable of cleaning herself and you should only wash your labia with lukewarm water (front to back!) when you're washing yourself. Don't fall for media's tricks to make you believe your body isn't strong enough on its own, because it is!

[thewritingmidwife]

Midnight musings: feminism

I need to get something off my chest. Setting boundaries has been extremely difficult for me for as long as I can remember, even now I've closed certain chapters from my life and said the biggest part of my past farewell, somewhere inside still remains that little girl who's afraid of saying 'no' and therefore crossing her own lines in most of the things she does. That being said, it might be easier for y'all to understand where I'm coming from.

So, obviously I am a feminist. And being a feminist means to me to respect each and everyone in whatever it is they believe in- even if it's not something I would choose for my personal life. Even though I sometimes have to really educate myself on a topic to understand where they're coming from, I will never scold or ridicule or be a part of hate and always respect another person's choice. But lately, I have been struggling with my own feelings regarding people who do practice hate: think of racism, islamo-, homo-, transphobia, etcetera. I am not okay with that and the 'respect everyone even though they feel differently than you'-thing feels like the one thing I simply can't do.

Some people just suck the life right out of you, you know? Their narrow-mindedness and ultra-right mindset drains so much energy out of a positive and tolerant mindset. And while it's sometimes easy to ignore (because, to be fair, unfriending a racist Facebook friend is one of the easy ways of getting rid of that kind of toxicity in your life), sometimes it can be damn hard. When it involves a client who demands someone else gets hired to deliver her baby because she sure as heck doesn't want a veiled woman in her baby's pics. Or when it's about someone once thought of as a friend who suddenly doesn't want any contact anymore for no apparent reason. I could go on a while, but I'll spare your precious time.

In those cases, what is there to do? Staying professional and calm is hard as it is, but internally: should I, as a feminist, respect their opinions too? Where is the line? Is it okay to have boundaries set in my tolerance? Or does that make me a 'bad feminist' and maybe not even one at all? Feminism is about peace (amongst many other things) and equality. For all. But when that gets endangered, respecting one's opinions and beliefs seems like the worst and most non-feminist thing you can do. And maybe that's the thing, that feminism still gets laughed at and is still being stigmatized as a group of bra-burning, angry women because in times of injustice, fighting against it is the only possible response. That 'freedom of speech' is the parade the misogynistic right wing is playing just to keep us all quiet. So shouting from the rooftops is the only thing left to do.

[thewritingmidwife]

Baby X < Baby Y

I have written this post about a hundred times before in my head, but I always decided not to post it. I felt like I didn’t have the right to talk about discrimination or racism, since I have benefited from white privilege for a huge part of my life. I first learned about the ugly reality of discrimination and racism when I met my husband, who had experienced this for his whole life, and learned how harsh and narrow-minded people are as soon as I began wearing my hijab (headscarf). Today, I decided that I do want to share my thoughts and experiences with you, because I am fed up and want people to simply know.

When you ask people about discrimination, you always get the same answer: “It’s awful!” and “I don’t do it.” Sturdy and clear. But why is it then, that even in their most vulnerable times of their lives, racism is something women of color have to worry about? Why is it then, that highly educated and seemingly just people like doctors choose to discriminate and be racist? I’m going to tell you about a night shift I worked in my second year of midwifery training that I’ll never forget- for all the wrong reasons.

The night shift had been rather calm. There were two women in labour, both about to meet their firstborn. One of the women was African (let’s call her ‘lady X’), the other Caucasian (I will be referring to her as ‘lady Y’). Lady X didn’t speak Dutch, as she just got here a few months ago, lady Y was right there in her hometown and surrounded by familiars. The births both weren’t going very smooth. Lady X’s baby was in serious distress: it’s heart monitor showed that a caesarean section was the only way to get out safely. It was a matter of minutes that could determine both baby’s and mother’s life or death. It was serious, yet no one told her and she labored through the contractions bravely. Lady Y had been laboring for a long time, close to 24 hours, and still wasn’t fully dilated. She had asked for a caesarean section as she was tired and felt she couldn’t do it anymore. Her baby was doing perfectly fine, as it’s heart monitor showed, and there was no sign that any rush was needed.

The gynaecologists sat calmly in their observation room, drinking their coffee or whatever it was they were drinking, and talking about the current events in the delivery ward. As it was such a calm night shift, there was only one team available to perform C-sections. Thus, only one woman could be helped in the operation room to deliver her baby at the time. I remember feeling agitated: why were they so calm when it was clear that one baby was experiencing serious stress? As a young student, I thought they probably knew better and that I was probably exaggerating. Until I heard the following conversation:

Dr. 1: “Who are we going to do first?” (why was that even a question?!?!) Dr. 2: “I guess we’ll do lady Y first, she’s been at it longer.” (still, lady Y’s baby was doing great) Nurse: “Sir, have you seen lady X’s heart monitor?” (clearly worried) Dr. 1: “Yeah, yeah…” Dr. 2: “She doesn’t understand anyway.” And they both walked to the operation room and calmly operated on lady Y while lady X’s baby was fighting for it’s life.

I am glad to tell you that both babies were born alive and left the hospital healthy and well, and both ladies were in cloud nine with their bundle of joy as they recovered from this serious operation. But this situation never left my mind ever since. I wish I had the courage to speak up to the nasty doctors, but I didn’t. It breaks my heart to know that women are treated this badly, and that racists like these basically determine whether your baby lives or dies- sometimes even without their mothers realizing. This needs to stop. That’s why we should all be feminists.

[thewritingmidwife]

Pussy Perils

Going to see a doctor is never really the most fun. It’s awkward more often than not, especially when you’ve got a problem concerning your most intimate body parts. Yes, I’m talking about the vagina.

I don’t know how many yoni’s I’ve seen during my work life, but I can surely tell you I don’t remember any of them. It’s not like I match the vajayjay to the woman in my head and see labia where their faces used to be. BUT going to the doctor for myself, I honestly have the idea that my doctor will only remember my nether regions and not my face. Who cares, you say? Well, going for a check up probably means there’s nothing seriously wrong. So the appointment takes place somewhere in between, which means that you realize at the last moment that you should wake up early the next morning to be in time. Which means you probably forget to shave or whatever. And suddenly EVERYTHING becomes an insecurity and you’re convinced it smells like dead fish once you open your legs for your doc. Right?

Maybe it’s just me, but I’m sure a lot of my ladies have experienced the same. So if you’re reading this and are about to have a check up down there, don’t stress it. Love your pussy. She deserves to be appreciated.

[thewritingmidwife]

Day of the Women

Today is International Women’s Day. A great day to celebrate womanhood, but there is a grim side to all the festivities. Of all the 365 days in a year, there is just one to celebrate and appreciate women. Why is that? Women are divine creators, creators of life. Women are the essential heart of a society, whether that’s in a busy, city-like part of the world or somewhere rural. Women sacrifice themselves wholly to bring future generations into this world. Women are smart, inventive, creative, necessary for all things society needs! And what do we get? A shitload of crap.

It’s only been 100 years this year since women in my country could vote. And while we might see that as a given, up until this day it’s very difficult for women to vote in way too many countries. And yet, our voices aren’t heard anywhere. On public television debates women politicians hear ‘Oh, but you look so lovely’, or are simply being ignored while the men discuss important issues by themselves.

I live in a country where women are allowed to legally abort their unwanted pregnancy, although the conditions aren’t always optimal and the women who enter an abortion clinic get yelled at and ridiculed by protestors who stand there on a daily basis. And what about the countless women who don’t have that opportunity? I’ve seen women from all over Europe come to the clinic in my old hometown, just to get done what is legally forbidden in their own countries. They are the lucky ones with enough money to make the trip and pay for the medial costs themselves. But they are few, and there are way too many women who feel like they have no other choice than experiment themselves, taking the risk death and massive illness for granted.

Women have to put up with birth violence, stigmatization and sexual assault on a daily basis- up to a point where joining a #metoo-movement isn’t seen as eye-opening or groundbreaking anymore because ‘everyone has experienced it’ and, even worse, ‘a lot of women probably say this because they want money or attention’. How many times have you heard people say ‘don’t act like a girl’, ‘you’re a pussy’, ‘sissy’, or ‘you sound like a woman’ as a way of ridiculing someone? Women are still being sexualized, unseen, ignored, mocked and objectified UP UNTIL THIS DAY. And we still stand. There’s nothing weak about us.

What are men so afraid of? Better yet, what is patriarchy so afraid of? Does it think we eat male figures up with our vaginas and they get dispatched to a hell-like hole deep inside the ground, never to come out again? Or do they think femininity is a contagious disease and empathizing with women will make their penis fall off and grow a pair of boobs instead? Breaking news: being less of a shitface will not ruin your life.

I hope that one day International Women’s Day won’t be needed anymore. That everyday will be a day for women to feel safe, valued and appreciated. I hope that one day I will tell my daughters and sons about this and they will laugh at my face for saying something this crazy. Until then, we keep fighting.