Week One in Amman

Anyone who ever moved to another country all on their own and tells you they didn't cry at least twice in their first week, is lying to you. This shit is hard, and emotionally challenging, no matter who you are. If you're stupid enough to move out here without anywhere to live or even any real concrete knowledge of how to extend your visa then - well, hi there, welcome to the club. Sometimes you've just got to wing it, and remember that if worst comes to worst, you can always just sack it all of and go home. That's a pretty good worst case scenario - but who knows, maybe we can be a bit more ambitious than worst case scenario now?

Maybe not quite yet, but alleviating the anxiety of the first few days has felt like a light switching back on in my brain. It's also been a solid learning curve on how to take care of myself, if I stop eating because I'm anxious that will just make my blood sugar levels low and my anxiety even more crippling. So on Friday I had a quick word with myself and bought some food and spent my first weekend eating myself back to some form of mentally stable. 

Then I started work and everyone was lovely and I just admitted I was new and scared and a bit confused by everything and it was fine. I have completely embraced shouting how I'm feeling from the rooftops so everyone I meet gets a quick insight into exactly how terrifying I'm finding this whole experience. What an absolute joy to be around I must be. It means I feel more comfortable asking for advice, It also means I'm getting used to the idea that this stress is just temporary and I can and will, get through it. 

Also here's another gushing remark about my ever supportive #girlsquad, across the world and the internet who are constantly supporting me as I pour my every feeling out to them over the last week. Thanks guys, And to my favourite boys, who keep the group chat filled with a very specific form of pop culture/political chat that makes me feel a little less far from home. 

Some less positive incidents this week may be named thus:

'Old white men tell me what they think about my research/career ambitions and give me advice I have not given one iota of a inference I want/need.'

'Old white men ask me for help and then continue to speak over me in every conversation'.

'Old white men try and tell me what's going on economically/politically in my home country as if I may have forgotten during the flight time and the internet doesn't exist.'

'Old white men disagree with me and ignore me when I try to explain the inner workings of an institution I used to work in.'

'Old white men tell other people what's going on in their home countries despite the fact they appear to be pulling this information out of their ass.'

'Old white men give their opinion on my appearance/age.'*

*STOP DOING THIS. If I have already told you how old I am it is of literally NO CONSEQUENCE how old you think I am. If you were wrong it still doesn't matter, I'm not going to be driven to amending my birth certificate by your opinion. I assure you there have been enough years in my life for me to achieve everything I have claimed to. The dates on my CV add up and everything. ALSO, do not try and claim it is a compliment as if women should constantly be striving for youth, you complete asshole.

In another twist of events I appear to have agreed to join a cross fit gym over the road from my work place and if that isn't the sign of madness and an impending mental breakdown then I don't know what is.

Also worked out the heating in my apartment so am basking in temperatures at least three times warmer than those outside on a daily basis.

It's still cold here, but we should be back in the low twenties next week so then I can start mentally preparing for summer in the desert.

Finally, on day seven, I am feeling happy and settled and will be writing more frequently as a result. You were right, it was nothing I couldn't handle, and there is nothing I can't do. Thank you for being patient with me when I thought I couldn't/wouldn't make it this far.

I hope your week feels like mine, successful and with a peaceful ending, ready to face another one.

Here's to us - we did it!

xx

True Girl Power

My next adventure and the women who made it possible.

After 20 years of structure by every type of academic institution possible, I'm out on my own. I lost my job just a bit after this happened, I went back to my old job (forever grateful), but now it’s time to start living my best life. So right now I'm coming to you from Amman, Jordan and the start of the next bit of that life.

I've heard the word ‘brave’ a lot in the time between deciding to take the job, and making the public announcement that is this post. It got me thinking about if I was being brave (yes – this is absolutely terrifying), and how I got to be so brave. How I got to be the woman that teenage Claire would be in awe of. I owe her a lot, she went through a lot and I try to live every day to prove wrong all the awful things she thought about herself. She’s the first woman I can thank for this, thank you to past Me, thank you for holding on and never ever letting anything stop you from moving forward.

Thank you to my internet girls, thank you for living your best lives and sharing that in a way which made me realise I was only a couple of decisions away from being able to live mine.  You share your worst bits as well as your best and watching you recover time and again reminds me that things don’t have to be perfect, or even good, to get you where you’re going. Katie and LJ – I barely know you (just fangirl tweets mostly) but if it wasn't for reading about you taking all those risks and going places you wanted to go and believing you could have the things you wanted, I would not be here getting the things I want right now.

Thank you to my best ladies, for meaning I don’t even have to ‘not care what anyone thinks’, because your support is so absolute and unrelenting it blows my mind. Thanks for bearing with me at my recent low moments when you knew I could do better. Thank you for being there when the very worst happened and I was worried that would be my undoing. It wasn't, and you knew that. You all keep calling me brave, and saying how proud you are of me, but I learnt that from you. Every woman in my life, from every stage of my life, is currently out there killing it and dominating every arena she turns her hand to. You are brave and I am proud of you.

Lots of love, as always, to my Mum, who didn't freak out when I told her I was coming and continues to be supportive of every decision I make. I am very lucky to have you.

These thanks can be extended to women everywhere, who go out and be successful and have adventures and share those adventures with us so we believe we can do it too. Women got me here, and made me believe I could get myself here, and the support I've found in women who champion each other’s successes, and push each other to be better, made me brave. 

International Women's Day 2016

Today is International Women's Day. It's filled all my social media outlets with women celebrating each other, although I must admit this isn't much different from their usual state. Call it an echo chamber if you will, but what a time to be alive, to have so much of what I choose to consume surround the celebration and support of women in all their forms. Who knew we would get here? It fills me with a lot of hope. 

I've spent today telling all the women in my life how wonderful they are and celebrating our strength, and our potential, and everything we can achieve if we continue to support one another. I've also spent some of it wondering how many times someone will have to say the words 'International Men's Day' before I lose my eyes in the back of my head, having rolled them so many times. It feels less than last year though, so that is something. 

I also read 'We Should All Be Feminists' for the millionth time, to warm my heart and remind me why we keep fighting like we do. 

On Saturday I spoke at a conference in London, at Queen Mary's University. At least I'm told I did. I was only 12 hours off the plane from Sydney and absolutely exhausted, but for the love of my subject alone I battled through. A quick thank you should go here for the organisers, everyone's work sounds fascinating and I'm sorry I couldn't be more present to take all I could from the day. 

Speaking at the conference meant re-immersing myself in the bit of my life in which I'm a historian. Thinking about my research and what it means and why I do it. 

Too often I've heard people say that I do what I do because I want to celebrate women. The history of the women I research is not a happy one, it is not one of undeniably wonderful acts (whose research ever is?) One person's terrorist is another's freedom fighter after all. It is not for me to judge the legitimacy of anyone's actions. Other historians will do that, other people with an interest in these things. I'm not interested in moral judgements; I'm interested in women in our many arenas. 

Whenever I develop my research I also talk about emancipation. I make careful to state that I am not here to judge anyone's emancipation. The idea is to go and speak to women whom no one has asked, to tell their stories, because they haven't been told before. It's not our job when we study history to decide how worthy someone was of their fate or how 'good' or not they were. My aim isn't to say all women are wonderful all of the time. 

The point is that women deserve their place. They deserve the complexity we instantly afford to men without even thinking about it. We deserve to be acknowledged for the things we did, the wonderful and the more controversial aspects of history alike. We let men commit atrocities and lead the world simultaneously without ever wondering what that says about their gender. I want women to be afforded the same right. I want to examine what being a woman meant for them in the specific context in which they acted. To overturn the idea that women all inherently act for reasons that are as diverse as they are, but also acknowledge that being a woman has a very unique impact on their experiences. 

I don't need us to be wonderful and 'good' all the time. To be right all the time. I need us to be there, to be present. We deserve to be present in every single arena you can think of, and to be allowed to tell our stories of every kind of experience. Too often women are silenced, and too often no one knows we were there. 

I want us to make noise, I want us to be there.

Writing from A to B: Sydney to Leeds, 03.03.2016 - 06.03.2016.

This probably never needed saying, but Beijing is not London. That is great, Beijing is its own place with its own things and doesn't need to be compared to anywhere. What is a little less great however, is that Beijing International Airport is not Heathrow. It could do with being more like Heathrow, with stuff to do and places to eat and cafes that seat more than 6 people. Because honestly, being here may be the most boring period of time in my life. Would not recommend, please stop me from booking Air China again. Where are all the places to eat? I just want fast food and I know it exists in Beijing proper so why hasn't it made it to the airport? There is a Pizza Hut so I will of course be eating there.

You know I don’t know if I'm excited to get back to London tomorrow (later this afternoon, I don’t know what time or day it would be most accurate to say it was). Of course I love London, and I'm lucky to speak at the conference and I can’t wait to see my girl on Saturday after it’s all over. But when I get back later I don’t know how I’ll feel. At the moment I feel so tired and my blood sugars are so all over the place that I could burst into tears at any moment. A tea and some proper food is needed before this flight and the same when I get to my hotel later. Let’s take care of yourself because you just did something really tough; even really brave people with really level heads rely on rest and food so their cells can produce energy.

P.S. When you get to London you need to buy an eyebrow pencil and some tights and then some food and then maybe call someone and read and go to sleep. You will feel better by Saturday I promise.

Good on you for having a good cry in public as well. Good for you. Your emotions are nothing to be ashamed of and this isn't high school.  Who gives a shit if you’re crying if you still go to that conference, and write things to deadline and give love to your friends? If that’s what you need to keep going then you cry all you damn well please.

And now of course the woman you awkwardly shut down conversation with earlier is around every corner. At least you know she’s not on your flight though – that’s some small relief at least. I know that she wanted to have more of a conversation with me than just if she was at the right gate, because she started talking about not being able to smoke and other people being unhelpful. I didn't want to chat though, I was preoccupied with writing and trying to work out in which order to do various things to allow my body to function semi-normally. I know that she knew that I knew she wanted to chat. I hope she hasn't been too bored and that she makes it to her destination safely, but also I'm glad I didn't engage conversation out of politeness. My mental space is more important than anyone else.

I feel like this A to B won’t be as interesting as the others because I haven’t really spoken to anyone and also because it’s only really going to be my layover in Beijing, possibly something from the hotel tonight and then maybe (maybe) the train journey home. I hope no one minds that, it obviously isn't really a direct A-B then as it will involve stopping and take place over 4 days. Maybe it feels so stunted because there’s so much I won’t say or even hint at. I’m quite happy to flail my feelings all over the internet but clutching at straws presuming someone else’s is something else entirely.