The Right To Vote

I came home from work to find poll cards in the mail. I picked them up and looked through them, checking them one by one. (I live in a house converted to flats with a shared letterbox.) I don’t know what I was hoping for. Perhaps there was a glitch somewhere and they sent me one by mistake. Perhaps they changed the rules and EU citizens could vote in general elections. Fool. Of course there was no poll card for me, of course I would have known if the law changed, because it would have been major news. Of course they didn’t make a mistake, The System never makes a mistake that benefits you. Welcome to my world of being disenfranchised.

I’ve lived in the UK for 16 years, I’ve worked and paid tax, yadda yadda yadda... you know all those things we EU citizens say to justify our very existence on these islands. This will be the fifth general election I will experience here, the second snap one. Experience it without participating in it. Citizens of EU living in UK (other than citizens of Ireland, Malta and Cyprus) cannot vote in general elections. We can vote in the local ones, which is great, but not in the general ones, which is not so great. (I wrote about voting in EU Parliament elections on my main blog.) Neither can we vote in referendums. Yeah, those things. Regardless of how long we’ve lived here. 

“You should have got the citizenship.”

Yes, I’ve heard that before. But Commonwealth citizens can vote in all elections without having to apply for UK citizenship and regardless of how long they’ve lived here (or if they even intend to live here long term or forever). So, you see, that’s not an argument. 

Alexandra Phillips, the Brexit Party MEP, tried this on me on Twitter not long ago. 

One local election in which I voted took place in 2015, alongside the general one. So I walked into the polling station to cast my vote. There were three poll clerks. The first one was crossing out the names of voters from the list. The third one was giving out ballot papers. I don’t remember what task exactly the one in the middle did but I do remember something else.

In the queue in front of me was a Commonwealth citizen. I know this because this is the person I was with and we went to the polling station together. Behind me was another voter, I can’t recall if there were any more people. 

So when it was my turn, the middle clerk pointed at me and said to the ballot-giving clerk: “she only gets the local election ballot”. 

Just slap me in the face while you’re at it.

You're not allowed here

I attempted to joke. “Yeah, I’m the poor relation,” I said. I watched that woman’s face but not a muscle on it moved. She didn’t respond. I took my ballot paper, did the voting and went home. I felt kinda hurt but I forgot it soon. I didn’t think about that woman again until sometime after the Brexit referendum. And this time I got angry. 

At that time in 2015 I was still trying to reclaim the “poor relation” label. I thought it would help me cope. But it didn’t, of course, because it’s a shit label in the first place. I reject it now. I threw it in the fire. And I’m angry. Yes I understand that the poll clerk was doing her job. Yes I know that voter fraud is a serious thing. But the thing is, she didn’t have to be such a bitch about it. There was no need to point at me and refer to me to her colleague in third person. I know I don’t have the right to vote for an MP. I know.

I KNOW.

And it never occurred to me to question it. It’s just how it is, I used to believe. But not anymore. Not after the referendum. It’s unfair and I will say it.

Look, I live in such a safe Labour constituency that it’s not even worth getting out to bed to vote. But that’s not the point. There is a difference between choosing not to do something and being denied the right to do that something. Besides, other EU citizens live in more marginal constituencies and I may not live in the same place forever. 

Suffrage is not a thing that is set in stone. In the past, only men who owned property could vote. Prior to the Peterloo Massacre, cities like Manchester and Leeds had no representatives in Parliament, despite being large industrial places. First women were able to vote in 1918--those over the age of 30 with properties. Finally in 1928 the suffrage was extended to everyone over 21 and then in 1969 to everyone over 18. 

In the final episode of Game of Thrones, during a gathering of lords of the noble houses of Westeros, in which they were to choose their next ruler, Samwell Tarly proposed that everyone should have a right to vote. The lords exploded with laughter. “Maybe I should get my horse to vote,” said Lord Royce (paraphrasing). Nobody took his side, not one single person. Not even one of the (precious) Starks. They just sat there, letting Sam be mocked, so he sat down and shut up. But I like to think that he didn’t get tired and continued campaigning and who knows, even achieved some change. We need you, Sam.

As for me, come the election day, I will once again be watching others as they enter the polling stations, invisible door barring my way, locked with no key in sight.

Strong Independent Woman or something?

I have seen this meme somewhere before, I don't remember where. I feel like I have something to say about it.

Mainly that: I don't get it.

So, this is supposed to be an aisle at a supermarket, right? But, it makes no sense. Aisles are normally dedicated to similar products. While cat food and cat toys would be together, the other two are completely different. But okay, let's move on.

So, cat food and cat toys. Nice, but what does it have to do with strong independent women? Whether you're a strong independent woman, a weak dependent woman, a man or a non-binary, of any degree of strength and independence, is irrelevant. What's relevant is whether you have a cat or not. If you have a cat, then obviously the cat needs to eat. Like, you're not gonna starve your cat, are you? Cat toys are maybe not as necessary, maybe you'd get one or two things from there. If you don't have a cat, this aisle is of no use to you.

Next, wine. I don't know about that because I don't drink any alcohol, therefore that section of supermarket doesn't interest me. I didn't think there was a specific aisle for wines, as I thought all the alcoholic beverages were together in one place? I guess it depends on the supermarket.

Now, the last one is the one that makes least sense of all. "Meals for one". Because I can't imagine a supermarket that sells meals for one, when everything is targeted towards families. Last summer during the heatwave, I wanted to get an ice lolly from Tesco. Just one. All I saw was multipacks and when I asked a shop assistant, I was told they don't sell individual ice lollies. You'd have to get one from an ice cream van or a corner shop. I go to supermarket a few times a week and never encountered anything like "meals for one". They do have ready meals, of course, but never have I seen them labelled as "meals for one". Why would they do that?

So in conclusion, I don't understand what all of the above has got to do with strong independent women, or women at all. I don't know what the creator of the meme for trying to go for or whether it was a joke which I misunderstood. I fully accept it may be the latter, because I usually fail to understand jokes. Majority of them are just not funny to me.

Bonus

Another strong independent woman meme. I included this one because not long ago there appeared a tweet on my timeline about someone who came out to her mother as a lesbian and the mother said, but who will open your jars for you if you won't have a husband and that in retrospect it was quite funny that all that the mother thought men were useful for was opening jars. I can't remember whether the person who tweeted it was the daughter or if it was just someone telling a story, I saw a screenshot of that same tweet later on Tumblr, but I can't be bothered to look for it again and anyway, that's not the point. The point is, what the hell is it with women and opening jars??? Is this, like, a thing? Because I'm a woman and I've never had a problem opening a jar. I never needed anyone else to do it for me. I never knew I was supposed to struggle with opening a jar. Nobody told me. I'm not strong, it's just common sense. If a jar is particularly tight, I insert the tip of a knife between the neck of the jar and the lid and twist it, sometimes there is a pop! sound and the jar opens without any difficulty.

It makes me wonder how the hell have gay women managed to survive. Maybe they don't buy anything in jars?