Reblog: A Letter For My Niece, Whom I’ve Not Been Allowed to Meet

And so another Christmas passes, and although I did not get to spend it with either my family or with my husband’s due to working for the Royal Mail, who hate giving out leave at such a peak time, the presents I have received from them are rather telling: a Philips Lumea IPL machine (a pastel-pink flash gun, a bit like a 1980s “Star Trek” phaser, that demolishes dark hairs like nobody’s business), new earrings, and an Oxfam gift card with the theme “Girl Power” (donating on my behalf to empowering women in the developing world). Also, not a single card addressed to my old name, although I have seen a variety of different spellings of “Elinor”… or is it “Elaenor?”

I am blessed. Unfortunately, I am not representative…

As an addendum, I might add that my friend Aoife was accused by certain radfems of exhibiting “womb envy,” who cited this piece in evidence. I will leave that interpretation to stand on its own merits (or total lack of, to say nothing of compassion).

Miss Gwenllian Lâs, Cymraeg PsyOp

{Note: I was going to post this near Christmas, when a preliminary draft appeared in my head during a crying jag whilst I was taking a much needed therapeutic bath — ie: soaking in the bubbles. I didn’t post then, as my feelings flared too raw, and the tenor of those tendencies drifted from accusation to self-recrimination. This is not the purpose of why I wrote this. I am too much a heathen to call reckless, righteous anger a personal obligation.}

Dear Katie,

I hope I spelled your name correctly. We have, of course, never met. You probably don’t even know I exist; and, as for me, the knowledge of your birth came only through chance circumstances of random information on FaceBook. (A curious place–the curation of faces and the arbitration of relationships, in type as well as in counterpoise.) I could have drafted this letter in a thousand…

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11 thoughts on “Reblog: A Letter For My Niece, Whom I’ve Not Been Allowed to Meet

    • Curse my ambiguity… The presents were from my family, although some of the more unorthodox spellings of my name did come from letters by colleagues. In these cases, it really is the thought that counts. 🙂

      I will let her know, and I agree wholeheartedly. To read that letter and ascribe a sinister motive to it is just plain damn depressing, and making an art of cynicism. xxx

      Liked by 1 person

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