Today I have been thinking about racism, sexism and other isms

It's difficult to think of yourself as someone who could discriminate against somebody else unfairly yet it's important to understand that this is something we're all capable of and have probably done at some point in our lives. Harder still to think that we might be doing it right now or will do it in the future. Yet to my mind it's really important to be aware that we can, to be concious of this possibility. How else are we going to catch ourselves thinking or behaving in ways that need to be challenged or changed?

Let me explain. In this instance I'm going to be using racism as the example. I grew up and live in a big city in the UK. I have friends and acquaintances of many different ethnic and cultural backgrounds. I certainly don't think of myself as a racist. I do however live in a society where racism is sadly endemic, a part of my culture and background that I've absorbed without even being aware of it.

Growing up, some of my close friends were subjected to racism. I've seen them called names for the colour of their skin and I've defended them. Even as a child it upset me when I witnessed such behaviour and I can't remember a time I didn't know it was wrong. But racism isn't only present when it shows itself so openly. It's a subtle pervasive thing.

As a teenager and young adult, walking down the road alone at night I was often quite anxious about being followed or harassed. I had good reason, it was something that had happened to me on more than one occasion. What it took me a while to realise and address was the fact that if I came across men of colour my anxiety jumped up a notch, in a way that it didn't when I was faced with a white man or even a group of white men. Why? Because at some point I had internalised and taken to heart the idea that men of colour were more dangerous than white men.

Where did that idea come from? No one in my family had taught me such a thing, but the general media did. Conversations at school with my friends did. I certainly wasn't alone with that fear. Yet I had no evidence to support it. Sure, it was all too easy to remember the times men of colour had followed me for a while in their car cat calling and making suggestive comments. Why did I find it so hard to bring to mind the time a white guy followed me all the way home doing the same thing?

I was raped in my teens by a boyfriend, who happened to be black. So that might have accounted for some of my anxiety. Only, I experienced sexual violence on a far more regular basis at the hands of my white father. I was sexually assaulted at school by two school mates, one white and one black. I was raped by an ex boyfriend in my late teens who was white. I had a stalker for a few years, he was white. Our house was broken into several times. On all but one occasion there was at least one white person involved. In fact, most of the objectionable or dangerous behaviour I've been subjected to the perpetrator was white. Yet my anxiety still increased when faced with the prospect of walking past or in front of men of colour.

This is racism, pure and simple. It might have been happening on an unconscious level but it was still there, still present. Once I realised what was going on I then had to work to change it. I had to confront myself with the facts every time I was faced with that situation and eventually, after several months it worked. It was only by being concious of what I was doing and what must be behind it that I was able to alter my thinking.

I had to do something similar in regards to my anxiety and paranoia around strange men in general, but that's digressing slightly from the point. The point is that recognising my racism in this instance wasn't comfortable. It didn't make me feel good about myself and the temptation to try and justify it, or ignore it as something I couldn't change was huge. I didn't though because I like to think of myself as a good person, and to my mind good people confront their prejudice and deal with it.

In terms of sexism, I've experienced similarly sexist ways of thinking and have tried to challenge them too. I still remember the times I felt uncomfortable around girls who didn't wear make-up or like clothes shopping because I had no idea what to talk to them about. The days before I realised that other girls were in fact people, just like me and might therefore have a white variety of interests outside of their appearance. I didn't find myself lost for topics of conversations with my male classmates, who I never discussed make-up with so it was silly to be limiting myself when it came to chatting with the female ones. I've been guilty in the past of thinking that if I ever became a wheelchair user I'd be miserable and hate my life. That was something I wasn't even aware of really thinking until I first got to know a wheel chair user and found myself being surprised at how happy they were. That there is disablism.

This is why I think it's so important to be aware of the potential we all hold to discriminate, to hold prejudices we're and let them affect our thinking and behaviour. It's important to fight this when we see it in other people, when we realise it happens on an institutional and societal level. I just think it's equally important to challenge and fight it within ourselves. It is not possible to live in a society which holds such prejudice without absorbing some of it ourselves. If we really want a society free of these things then we ourselves need to be free of them and that's only going to happen if we avoid falling into the trap of thinking it's impossible for us be prejudiced.

"If I had your life I'd try to kill myself too"

Today has reminded me of one of the most useless and hurtful things someone said to me. Picture the scene, if you will. I had been referred to a CPN (community psychiatric nurse) after attempting suicide. It was our first meeting and I was being assessed to see what help and support I needed. Part of that involved a risk assessment and part of it involved talking about why I had tried to kill myself. I'd just finished talking about the child abuse, the rapes, the eating disorders and the anxiety about everything ever. It was at this point that my CPN reached out, placed a comforting hand on my arm and looked into my eyes, her own brimming with sincerity and stated 'if I had your life I'd try to kill myself too.'

I think she was trying to express sympathy with the way I was feeling, trying to let me know that she understood where I was coming from and that it was OK for me to feel that way. I get it, she had the best of intentions. Yet here's the thing. I already knew how bad my situation was - that's why I was there, trying to find another better option than suicide to change it. What I didn't need to be told was that actually, my life really was so appalling it wasn't worth living. Thankfully she was able to arrange for me to see people better equipped than she was to help me out.

So, why has this whole experience reared it's ugly head again? I'll tell you. It's because of this post. It's because today I was reminded that we live in a society where a large number of people think being disabled is so awful they'd rather be dead than live with a disability. It's because we live in a society where people think it's OK to tell other people that they think they'd be better of dead. OK, so I don't think most people realise that's what they're saying, but it is.

If you tell someone you'd rather be dead than live their life then you're saying you don't think their life is one worth living. I can tell you first hand that being told that hurts. That being made to feel you should want to be dead is no fun at all - particularly if you already feel that way.

I was lucky. There were people around who felt that my life was worth saving, there were services around which provided me with the help and support I needed to realise that myself. To help me get to a point where I could look at my life and say 'well, I live in pain everyday which sucks but there are benefits to being alive which make dealing with the pain worthwhile.' Without that help and support, from mental health services and from friends and family I wouldn't be here today. I absolutely believe that.

Now I can't help but wonder what the situation would have been if I was not only severely depressed but also had a physical impairment. Would those services still have helped me? Would people still have been so supportive and determined to help me see I had reasons to live? Or would the combination of mental illness and physical impairment have been considered too much for anyone to live with?

Human beings are amazingly adaptive. Seriously. We do all kinds of things every day to make our lives work. If we move to another country we learn the language to enable better communication. If we find ourselves in pain we take medication to ease it. If we lose someone close to us we grieve, but we survive their loss. As a teen and well into adulthood I experienced a lot of emotional distress and I dealt with it, not always in ways that other people would recognise as healthy or well adapted but in ways that nonetheless allowed me to keep going. When those ways became problematic, I was given help to find new ways of coping and was able to carry on with my life.

If you have a disability, you might need to find ways to manage it. Such as using mobility aids, having your house adapted or taking medication to help with pain and bodily functions. The point is that it's possible to manage your disability and live with it. We know this because people do it every single day. People lead productive, fulfilling and worth while lives AND have a disability. Because a disability doesn't mean your life isn't worth living. Except when people make it so, by denying access to places, services or necessary equipment and treatment. By treating people like they aren't people because they have a disability. Or by telling someone they are better off dead.

Rant over for now. Thanks for reading.