Some sex thoughts

When I slept with cishet men:

he fucks

I lie there

he gets a big vein on his neck or forehead

he says: did you come

I say yes super hard in as sarcastic a voice as I think I can get away with

I don’t fake I just rely on him not knowing or caring what an orgasm looks like

 

it didn’t start off like that

 first time I fucked a stranger I was in a field in denmark

I said come to my tent and he said something in danish that sounded like a soft grunt

which is how everything sounds in danish

and I didn’t say anything just pushed his body around so it did the right movements

I masturbated while he fucked me and I came and then I fell asleep

it was beautiful

 

maybe because speaking english during sex reminds me of bad porn

or maybe because men kept kissing me in my sleep and touching me in my sleep 

and fucking me in my sleep

so I stopped caring what happens to my body it’s just a body it’s just where I live

 

I fuck beautiful women and non binary people and almost no men

my body feels like when you have a fever and you piss and it feels like the piss is boiling

my body is too much

I want to show them that they’re great and that they’re doing the right thing

and that my body is worth touching and that it matters what I want

but it might not matter so I say

“don’t worry about me” or

“I just enjoy the experience” or

“I just want you to feel good”

Piece for Bullying Zine #2

I was bullied from when I was 6 until I was 13, and it only stopped because we were put in different classes so they didn’t have as much access to me anymore.

It was mainly psychological, and occasionally physical - the physical pain was always secondary to the humiliation. Example: at 10, they grabbed me from the shower and dragged me by my hands and feet and threw me into the boys’ locker room. Their psychological abuse also had real world ramifications, and wasn’t limited to name calling. Example: at 11,  they made me ask out a boy. He became my “boyfriend” for two weeks until they marched him down to the arts and crafts room to dump me, again with them as witnesses. They then stole my diary where I described this event and broke the lock and wrote supportive notes in the margins about how I shouldn’t feel bad about myself. When I got angry they told me I should have gotten a stronger lock. They also came to my house, and when I behind a sofa to avoid having to let them in, they walked around my house to a window where they could see me hiding. They knocked on the window until I had to let them in, after which they destroyed a lot of my belongings and stole my underwear and showed it to people. I tried to kill myself for the first time that year.

When the bullying finally ended, I became extremely aggressive and defensive. A year after it had stopped, a boy in my class touched my labia in the middle of Religious Studies (obvs the teacher did nothing). I waited until woodworking class and pinched him in the balls with a giant set of metal tongs so hard that he cried. He never touched me again. I got into a fistfight with a grown man. I was all rage.

As an adult I internalised the anger and developed severe mental health problems.

The most significant way that this affects me is that everything is very black and white to me when I feel threatened. I also constantly assume people have bad intentions, and find it hard to understand that other people don’t see it. Being bullied really opens your eyes to how creatively cruel people can be to you for no reason, but also normalises cruelty. 

When people encourage me not to take things personally and see my paranoia about people’s intentions towards me as unrealistic, I feel like they’re being incredibly naive. Just because someone is  your friend doesn’t mean they won’t hold you down while a dog humps you to completion all over your clothes and tell everyone you’re a disgusting dog fucker. I’ve experienced that people can be incredibly cruel for no reason, and that something about me attracts this kind of behaviour. You can’t just tell me people aren’t like that, I know for a fact that they are.

So while I’m very quick to interpret relatively harmless behaviour such as people ignoring me, gossiping about me, rolling their eyes at me, rejecting me in various ways as them trying to actively hurt me, and often respond aggressively, I also think “why wouldn’t they”. Of course they’re trying to hurt me, I can’t see any other explanation. And then I feel vindicated. HAHA! You DO hate me and want to hurt me! I knew it all along.

I’m aware that this is very self-centred. I think it makes me a difficult person to be around, and increases the probability of me being abusive to other people. A huge effect bullying has had on me is that I don’t think other people have feelings, or rather that I have the power to hurt anyone’s feelings. I tried to defend myself with everything I had, and they didn’t give a shit what I said, and neither did anyone else, so at some point I concluded that I could say whatever the fuck I wanted because nothing that came out of my mouth had any effect on anyone. 

I forgive nothing or no one. I pre-emptively collect shit on everyone I know, just in case. If you fuck with me, you better believe that I already have a mental five page word document detailing your flaws. This makes it hard to see myself or other people as good people. Everyone is a potential threat, and I’m always looking for weaknesses to attack in case I am attacked. 

When people say “all the cool people were bullied” and “this kind of thing makes you stronger” I want to punch them in the face to see if that makes them stronger or just angry. It’s a huge contributing factor to why I suffer from anxiety and depression. I internalised them telling me I was worthless. I feel like I’ve been in a cult where the religion was hating me, and I can’t un-brainwash myself. 

I tried to make this into a coherent piece of writing but it’s just rage and sadness. I’m trying to combat the effects of this with being very vulnerable and being nicer to myself. I feel vulnerable sharing this. Well done me. 

Walking around Beijing at night with a relatively high fever

The woman at the market said I was “very fashion”, my haircut isn’t queer here, just western. I’ve become nocturnal, I walk around and read Kathy Acker and cough and spit up bloody lumps of slime. No one harasses me on the street, it’s amazing, I’m on holiday from gross men.

I dreamt that my dad bought me a purple lipstick and told me it would go with my complexion and gender identity. If I leave this café I’ll fall down a pothole, I’m in love with scorpions and cockroaches and disgusting animals that live through anything.

A cute man is cutting all the skin off my fish and I don’t have the mandarin skills to tell him that the gross scaly skin is the best bit. I want to fuck and hallucinate again. I get greedy when I’m embraced by tits and when I’m in foreign supermarkets. 

A fat white american is sitting next to me, mansplaining China to his east asian probably Chinese girlfriend with his mouth full. I’m staring at him, trying to make him choke on his chicken with my eyes like Matilda. 

I managed to buy some tea in Mandarin. The words for big and flower came back to me, but not blossoming, so I had to mime blossoming with my hands and face and body and she knew what I meant when I used my face.

Mamma- Missed FaceTime 8/1/2016 21:34

I listen to books about brave women

I’m not a woman but I empathise with women

then my mum calls and I list fresh decisions

while holding my phone at a flattering angle

I don’t say anything about biting squirming boys

in my living room or how I’m not a woman

even though I empathise with women

just about the money I spent on light blue patent sandals

not who I pissed on to earn that money

and she says

"have they got enough ankle support?"

no but I feel tall especially next to boys

they say I’m “v hot” but they don’t show up on time

I’ve never been hot but I could become very tall

and I don’t say to her: I dream about

jumping off tall buildings in perfect outfits, patent feet first

guts spilling discretely from Chanel suits

being autopsied by a pretty doctor, latex fingers in my belly

she says “we’re all rooting for you we’re all crossing our fingers for you”

I say chhhh chhhh I’m going through a tunnel this is a bad line chhhh

Writing CV

Published poetry:

Forza Magazine (2015)

Menteur Magazine (2015)

The Sounds You Are Making Are Not My Name, April 2013, self published. 25 poems in English and Norwegian illustrated by Maria Cecilie Midttun. Available from Victoria Park Books and the Feminist Library (London) and Cappelens Forslag (Oslo).

Kollege (2013)

MAP Poetry (2012)

Dagbladet (Norwegian national newspaper) (2009), I won the ‘poet of the month’ (May) and ‘poet of the summer’ (August) awards.

 

Performance writing:

Writer and performer, November 2015

I was already mental at the Bethnal Green Working Men’s Club and as part of The Prime of Ms David Hoyle at Chelsea Theatre

Writer and performer, October 2015

Demons make my insides tickle at Freshly Scratched, Battersea Arts Centre

Writer and performer, October 2015

Unauthorised Autobiography at Camden People’s Theatre, part of the Calm Down Dear Festival of feminist performance.

Writer, director and producer, July 2016

Our Orchestra is the Cat’s Nuts at the Red Hedgehog Theatre

Writer and director, February 2013

 So Much the Better; with The Emporium Players

Writer and director, November 2012,

Heist with The Emporium Players

Writer and director, October 2012

Paper Thin, Paper Thick with The Emporium Players

Translator/adaptor and director, January 2011,

Hedda Gabler by Henrik Ibsen, with Queen Mary Theatre Company

 

Asfaltpoesi @ the house of The House of Literature, Kristiansand

Poems were displayed around the city of Kristiansand, and members of the public were given maps to lead them around the urban poetry.  English translation: I cried on my leg and the hair slows the water but not enough, I’ve weighed down the floor and now the train is delayed because I started crying it made the floor heavy then the train carriage became heavy not so that you’d notice but we slowed by a couple of miliseconds per 100 metres and I’m slowing the 3G network with my wailing if I were to put on skinny jeans it would take half a second longer these are small margins I haven’t ruined anyone’s day yet but if I had cried on Usain Bolt he might have lost or not won by quite as much some people are so fast that these things don’t matter swimmers shave their legs and chests because they enjoy it they pretend it’s necessary but nothing is necessary if you are really really good  

Poems were displayed around the city of Kristiansand, and members of the public were given maps to lead them around the urban poetry.  English translation:

I cried on my leg and the hair slows the water
but not enough, I’ve weighed down the floor
and now the train is delayed because I started crying
it made the floor heavy
then the train carriage became heavy
not so that you’d notice but
we slowed by a couple of miliseconds per 100 metres
and I’m slowing the 3G network with my wailing
if I were to put on skinny jeans it would take half a second longer
these are small margins
I haven’t ruined anyone’s day yet
but if I had cried on Usain Bolt he might have
lost or not won by quite as much
some people are so fast that these things don’t matter
swimmers shave their legs
and chests because they enjoy it
they pretend it’s necessary but nothing is necessary if you are really really good