top of page
  • Instagram Social Icon
  • Black Facebook Icon

I Am Her.


Hello!

Today is International Women's Day and, as a firm feminist, I'm going to talk about it. Originally I was planning to write about my mum, and my gran, and all the other women who have made me the woman I am today. But then I realised that I have surprised every single one of those women throughout my life. When you're a woman with anxiety, you're expected to fail, to be weak, to give up, but I want to prove that actually, you can be anxious but strong, anxious but fearless, anxious but determined. I am the woman I am today because ever since I was a child I asked everyone who ever thought I couldn't do things why not? And that's what I try and tell that voice in my head whenever it says I can't. Why can't I? And because I have tried to do that all my life, I'm now going to share the things that I managed to do simply because I wanted to challenge the people who thought I couldn't. Today is the day to be proud.

When I was 8 years old, I remember seeing a girl called Daisy Andrews playing 'I Feel Pretty' on the cornet at the annual school concert. I was learning to play the recorder at the time and I said to my mum after the concert "Mummy, can I please learn to play the cornet?" She told me that I could start lessons if I was still playing the recorder in a year's time thinking there was no way that an eight year old would have that sort of determination.

A year later, I had my first cornet lesson.

I played the recorder for a further two. After I had begun to learn the cornet, I then said to my mum "Mummy, I'm going to go all the way to grade 8!" and she didn't believe that I would.

I can tell you, hand on heart, that there has never been a more satisfying moment than walking out of my grade 8 cornet exam at the age of 18 and saying to her, "I told you I would." It was hard, I wanted to give up so many times, I was told by men that I couldn't because it wasn't a girl's instrument but I remembered all the way through that I had told my mother at the age of 9 that I would, so I bloody well did.

Later on, I wanted to start a campaign to improve things for LGBT+ students at my school. My boyfriend at the time told me there was no way I could do it, in fact, I don't think anyone believed that I could do it. However, I was adamant that I wanted to. I collected testimonies from friends and alumni, I looked through the government website, I spoke to the headmaster and other pastoral staff. All along the way, they asked me if I was up to it, that I didn't have to do it, that someone else would be able to take over. But I didn't stop until I was standing on that stage at school having gone to university and been invited back opening the LGBT+ society, revising the rules on bullying towards LGBT+ students, and announced the position of LGBT+ rep as an extension of the prefect system.

When everyone tells you it can't be done, I promise you, there is no better feeling than being the one who did.

Those are the two stories I wanted to share but I have done so much more, I have survived this society as so many other women have. I have run home from a nightclub after being sexually assaulted with bruises on my neck and got up the next morning and carried on, shaken and upset, but not defeated. I have been known as just somebody's girlfriend rather than an actual person. I have been undermined, shamed for my body, my makeup, my voice, my sexual activity, my ambition, my intelligence, and my simple existence of being a woman but I have never given up.

I have an anxiety disorder, always have, and probably always will. Every time someone has told me I can't, the little voice inside me has quietly agreed. Every time I did something big, or took a risk, I was frightened. I am frightened 99.9% of the time but every day I remind myself that nobody wants to be remembered for being frightened. If you're reading this, I want you to know that being frightened is absolutely okay, be frightened, but it is possible to do things anyway. And that way, when you come across something where you think you absolutely can't you can remember all the times you did.

That way, when someone asks who it was who was brave enough, you can stand with your head held high and say "I am Her."

Huge love to all the women that read this,

Lots of Love,

Sarah xxx

Shea Diamond is a trans-woman of colour. She wrote this song whilst incarcerated in a male prison for 10 years. Her song was designed to be anthem to all those who have ever felt rejected for being who they are. Her strength is incredible and I think this is a song that should be heard by everyone.

DSC_1233-2.jpg

I'm a 23 year old sociology graduate at the University of Edinburgh, now studying Counselling.

 

 I suffer with anxiety and started this blog to spread the message that you are not alone xx

bottom of page