The UK is a racist shithole and Harry and Meghan are better off cutting the cord.

Woosah. That’s what I’ve been telling myself all day as I peruse the British newspapers and their reaction to Harry and Meghan’s announcement that they’re stepping back from front line royal life. Woosah because even for me, a black person used to the level of caucasity displayed on a DAILY by the British press, this is a lot to take. Let me break it down for you.

Harry and Meghan are stepping back because of the relentless racist abuse Meghan has been subjected to since they announced their engagement. It has been non-stop. She has been constantly compared to Kate “I wore the same dress twice so hand me the keys to Heaven” Middleton, who can do no wrong, has easy to swallow opinions, and looks like a nice girl you could take home to mother in the Cotswolds for a weekend of shooting.

The comparisons go something like this: Kate is an English rose, classy, elegant, and sophisticated. Meghan is exotic, brash, opinionated and lacking manners. Listen for the dog whistle people. I’ve even seen her described as “uppity” a few times. Need I go on?
I’m sure half the hacks who write this crap about her don’t even realize their own racism it’s so deeply embedded in them, but believe you me it’s there. So much so that Harry even broke ranks last year and explicitly stated that a lot of the abuse directed at Meghan was rooted in racism. She has been criticized for breaking royal protocol, for trying to use her voice to champion causes close to her heart, Hell, the day her son was born, a respected radio journalist on the BBC, Danny Baker, posted a picture on Twitter of a couple holding hands with a chimp dressed up in a suit!

If Harry had married the aryan wet dream that is Chelsy Davy, we would not be having this conversation now. Readers of the Daily Mail, The Telegraph, The Sun, and all the other rags I wouldn’t even wipe my arse with would be having a circle jerk about how wonderful they are as a couple, and how her cheeky, playful nature compliments Harry’s perfectly. White girls get to be cheeky and playful, Meghan not so much.

To top it all off, Her Majesty the Queen has let her displeasure be known about the Sussex’s decision to step back. Hold on a sec Liz. Your son was bum chums with a convicted pedophile and is under suspicion of having sex with a trafficked minor and you have nothing to say. Zip, bupkis. But when your grandson and his wife decide to move their family abroad for their own sanity you wanna pipe up. Take several seats. You know, the ones encrusted with jewels your family stole from the colonies.

There’s talk of the Sussexes moving to Canada. I hope they do, because jumping from one racist cesspit to another (the US) would seem counter intuitive to me. Either way I’m sure they won’t be looking back at the white cliffs of Dover with any great sadness as they leave. Good luck to them I say. Cutting toxic people and BS out of your life is THE mood for 2020, and I am 100% here for the year’s earliest role models in that respect.

PS. If you think I’m exaggerating here, go read the comments on any one of the million articles written about Meghan in the British press. I’ll wait…

photo credit sussexroyal instagram

I’m 38 years old. I went to my first pride in 1995 when I was 14. I didn’t tell a soul I was going, just rocked up, changed into my short shorts in the toilets and spent the day wandering around looking at the different stalls, listening to all the music, and just generally enjoying myself. I remember feeling an immense sense of relief and happiness, like I’d finally found my tribe. I also remember feeling sad, but most of all angry, that I had to change back into my civilian clothes for the journey home. Even at 14 I knew I would (at the very least) receive a stream of verbal abuse for wearing such “gay” clothes.

It’s no understatement to say that day in 1995 changed my life. It was the first time I knew I wasn’t alone, that there were other people who felt the same way I did; that all the messages I was receiving at school and in the media about LGBTQI+ people being dangerous perverts and disease ridden, hell bound monsters weren’t true. I felt accepted, I felt loved, and most of all I felt (for the first time) that there was nothing wrong with me, quite the opposite in fact.

Now it’s 2019 though. Attitudes have changed. We have same-sex marriage, anti-discrimination laws, LGBTQ+ people are more visible than ever. Why do we even need Pride anymore?

BECAUSE THE WORLD IS STILL AN IMMENSELY HOMOPHOBIC PLACE YOU NINNIES!

Sorry for shouting, but this nonsense really makes me want to cut someone. Yes, on paper (and in the western world) most of the big legal battles have been won, but society is much much slower to catch up. Look at the facts and statistics: At least five black, transgender women have been killed in the US this year. Last year the number was at least 26. In the UK, the rate of homophobic hate crime rose by 144% between 2013-14 and 2017-18. In Berlin, where I live, and generally considered one of the most LGBTQI+ friendly cities on Earth, I read about homophobic abuse, both verbal and physical nearly every day.

We need Pride because of these horrifying statistics, true. But we also need Pride because it’s still very hard for LGBTQI+ people to feel real pride in themselves and their sexuality. As the great George Michael once said, it’s very hard to feel good about your sexuality when it brings you nothing but pain. Despite all the progress made since Stonewall, we still live in a hugely heteronormative society. Being straight is still considered very much the norm, and anything deviating from that strict binary is, even today, often viewed with (at best) bemusement, and at worst, physical violence. Let’s not forget we live in a very privileged bubble in the west.

Queer people are magical unicorns in my humble opinion, all of us. It’s time we had the right to express ourselves freely without judgement. It’s time for real acceptance. Fuck tolerance. I don’t want to be tolerated. Trump is (barely) tolerated, and who on God’s green earth wants to be thought of in the same sentence as that mess?!?

Female Olympian forced to take hormone suppressants to compete

The South African Olympic Gold medallist Caster Semenya has lost her battle with Athletics’ ruling body, the IAAF, regarding her supposed unfair competitive advantage due to the high levels of testosterone she produces. Semenya, 28, has a condition called hyperandrogenism, which means her body produces more testosterone than is usual in women. For nearly a year she has been embroiled in a battle with the IAAF over whether or not her levels of the hormone give her an unfair advantage and make her faster than other women. This week at the Court for Arbitration in Sport in Switzerland, she lost her case. She will now have to find a way to suppress her natural levels of testosterone (perhaps by using birth control), although she intends to appeal the decision.

This whole mess strikes us as grossly unfair, and there’s a distinct whiff of patriarchal BS at play here too. First off, other (male) athletes are celebrated for being genetic anomalies. Look at Michael Phelps. The man has size 14 feet, lungs twice the size of an average human, and extra flexible ankle joints that allow him to power through the water faster than a speeding bullet. Not a peep from the international sporting community. Double standard much? The IAAF have even admitted that their ruling is discriminatory, but claim: “Such discrimination is a necessary, reasonable, and proportionate means of achieving the IAAF’s aim of preserving the integrity of female athletics in the restricted events." The second point to be made here is that testosterone is not a male hormone. If it was, women wouldn’t produce it. Simples. There’s a whole myth built up around testosterone and masculinity. But that’s a story for another day.
For now, it looks as if, as with so many things in this world, it’s one rule for the boys, and another for everybody else. Sigh.

Why I’m done trying to be understanding and empathetic to Trump/Brexit supporters

Sometimes when I look around at the current state of the world, I feel there’s a whole Nero fiddling while Rome burned situation going on. We’re all going merrily about our lives, trying to have it all and pretend we enjoy kale, while our politics, moral code, and (most worryingly of all) our planet crumble around us. I often find it hard to remain optimistic about our future as a species when I see desperate Orangutans trying to fight off bulldozers, and kids in cages on the news. It doesn’t exactly make one want to do the macarena.

Through all of this though, I do try and remember the good in people. I’m aware of social media algorithms feeding my despair as I scroll, like a tourist feeds coins to a Las Vegas slot machine, and I try and stay rational about the whole thing. But there are just a couple of issues where I’m done being polite and giving people the benefit of the doubt: And those issues are The Baby in Chief Donald Trump, and the clusterfuck that is Brexit. I’m so done with both of these topics and more importantly their supporters, it’s no joke. I’m more done than Mel Gibson’s career. I’m over it, under it, next to it. I’m Done Draper from Mad Men, Done Corleone. I’m Pontius Pilate washing my hands of this whole burnt, crispy mess. Am I making myself clear so far?

I lump these two issues together because to me, they are two sides of the same coin; both deeply rooted in ignorance, racism, white nationalism, and with a river of dirty money financing them both.

Here’s the thing. It went against all my Spidey senses from the jump off to try and understand people’s motivation in voting for Trump or Brexit, or TB as I like to call it (so apt that the abbreviation should be a life-threatening disease). It goes against my nature to a) give people the benefit of the doubt when they repeatedly show you who they are and what they believe in, and b) not rub their blatant transgressions in their face like the vindictive, spiteful Scorpio I am when their foolishness is proven. When TB came to pass in 2016, I wanted to find every Trumpanzee and Brexiter and have it out with them. Just lay it all out on the table and try and make sense of it. I genuinely wanted to try and understand how anyone could have voted for such blatantly flawed ideals. How could they overlook Trump’s blatant misogyny and sexual abuse? How could they turn a blind eye to the racism and xenophobia at the heart of Brexit? I took a seat though and decided to see how things would pan out.

Smash cut to three years later. It’s now 2019. Charlottesville has happened, Trump is gutting the American middle class with his tax reforms, and we have Betsy DeVos (the fawning, grinning face of pure evil). On the other side of the Atlantic, hate crimes are up, Theresa May is sacrificing infants to Satan to hold on to power, and we have the amoeba who is Tommy Robinson (think Trump and Bannon had a baby). There can be absolutely no ambiguity about what TB represents now, the gloves are off. You can no longer feign ignorance at the ideas propelling it. If you STILL support either Trump or Brexit, then please delete me from your contacts. I mean it. Because in lending your support to TB, you are essentially giving two enthusiastic thumbs up to hatred, division, and the worst sides of the human character. It’s not fucking ok. And don’t try and gaslight me or diminish the degradation in our public life over the last three years either. Our democracies are collapsing around us, led astray by the enticing promises of a band of stale, old, hate filled, out of touch Caucasian men.

Sometimes in life there is just right and wrong. Yes, there can be shades of grey too, but often it’s just black and white. Simples. This is one of those instances. TB wrecks lives. Period. I’m done trying to argue with stupid, it’s exhausting and demoralizing. Some people are (for whatever reason) just too dumb and ignorant to get it. That’s the truth. Granted, it’s a hard truth to take, but show me the evidence to the contrary. I’m through watching people perform the mental contortions necessary to come up with arguments in favour of keeping kids in cages, or why our elected representatives deserve to be murdered in the street. We hit peak 1984 a while back and my cerebellum needs a rest. I wish TB supporters no ill will (apart from a light dose of measles maybe. Most of them are probably anti-vaxxers, and karma is a real bitch), I just have absolutely zero desire to legitimise their arguments by continuing to engage with their naked hatred and bigotry.

The philosopher Karl Popper said it best: “If we are not prepared to defend a tolerant society against the onslaught of the intolerant, then the tolerant will be destroyed, and tolerance with them.” My empathy and understanding dried up miles back, so if you’re rocking a MAGA hat or Brexit sticker in your car window, just keep it moving ok? My mother told me stupid is contagious

People are surprised when they see you in real life.

This has happened to me so many times when I’ve only spoken to someone on the phone and then I meet them in person. The eyes glaze over, and the voice gets really high pitched, as all their focus shifts to having to confront their own racism because they thought you were white by the sound of your voice: “Hiiiiiee so lovely to meet you.” Sometimes they throw in a “you’re not what I was expecting” as an extra kick in the tits. Say what you mean: “I had no idea black people could be well spoken. Were you saved from the projects and adopted by a kindly Caucasian family?” No Maurice, it’s 2019. We just had a black President, are you really still on this flex? We’re not all gangbangers and drug dealers.

Being followed around at a store

Let me make this clear. I DON’T STEAL (except for that one time in college, but that was because I had to party). I’ll say it again for the cheap seats. I DON’T STEAL. The only thing I really have been known to steal is hearts, because I’m so fly (don’t look at me like that).
You don’t need to follow me around your store Mr security guard. Unless that is, you’re looking for a handout? Don’t be shy, you can ask. I make more in a week than you will in your entire lifetime so there’s plenty to go around. I’ll let you know if I need help thanks, step the hell away from me. Anyway, chances are that while you’re following me around like a bloodhound, Britney Blue Eyes and her friend Callie Caucasian are stuffing their knock off designer bags and Uggs full of your merch while smiling at you sweetly.

Being asked for drugs

This one is especially hurtful because It’s usually me who’s looking for them, and I get my hopes up when a sweaty, gurning white face comes towards me in the crowd. No I’m not selling drugs. When you find the dealer please do let me know though. And in future don’t walk over to me like you’re about to offer me molly, and then dash my hopes by asking if I have any to sell. It’s not ok. K thanks bye

People wanting to have a conversation about race

To all my well-meaning white friends. Yes I’m well educated blah blah blah, but I am not an ambassador for my race. Are you for yours? And frankly, would you want to be?!? People of color have to deal with the spectre of race day in and day out. When I’m with my friends, I just want to laugh and get turnt. The internet exists. Use it. Educate yourselves. I’m not your teacher.

People assuming that you know how to dance

Full disclosure, I DO know how to dance, but I have met people of color that CAN’T, all four of them. And yes, they bring shame to the race. I’m going to say it. There’s nothing sadder than a black person with beat deafness. It may be the oldest cliché in the book, but most black people can at least keep in time with basic rhythm, at least in my experience. Please do correct me if I’m wrong. It’s jarring for me to see a black person flailing out of time like those inflatable tube guys you see at car dealers. It hurts my heart.

The Hair

If you’re a subscriber to BroadsOnPoint you know not to touch a black person’s hair, right? Good. Hair is an integral part of the black experience It has been used to shame us by those on the outside, while at the same time becoming a source of massive pride for those of us blessed with afro hair. It defines us in so many ways. And there does seem to be a real push now for black people, women in particular, to embrace their beautiful natural hair. But let me tell you. Afro hair is WORK! For years I wanted to have floppy boy band hair like Nick from the Backstreet Boys. So I slathered on relaxer, burning my scalp, reducing my hair to strands of crispy uncooked ramen noodles, and turning it an eternal “caramel” color (at least that’s how I tried to spin it. It was ginger). Now I’m finally back to my beautiful natural curls, but they’re time-consuming and expensive.

When you finger my do with your grubby digits, not only is it racist, but you’re also messing up my hair and I might have to cut you. It’s the worst form of exoticism and fetishization. It’s hair. We all have it. Calm down Bernard.

The Roundup

Charlize Theron supports her Trans daughter

Charlize Theron has revealed her eldest daughter, seven-year-old Jackson, is Trans. The actress said that her daughter has known she was a girl since she was three and announced it quite matter of fact. Jackson has her mother’s full support and in Theron’s own words it is: “her duty to celebrate them and to love them and to make sure that they have everything they need in order to be what they want to be.”

There is still, unfortunately, so much stigma and misunderstanding surrounding Trans children. It’s a delicate topic, no doubt, but children should be supported however they choose to express themselves. If it really is just a “phase” then they’ll grow out of it. It’s up to parents to be brave and face their own prejudices. We applaud Charlize Theron and Jackson and wish them all the best!

Black UK mothers more at risk of dying than their white counterparts

An upsetting piece from the BBC this week revealed that black mothers are far more at risk of dying from complications surrounding pregnancy and childbirth, than their white counterparts. According to the UK Confidential Enquiry into Maternal Deaths, the chance of death was 1 in 2500 for black women between 2014 and 2016. While for white women the rate was five times lower. This phenomenon is also true in the US where the rate of death among white women is three to four times lower than in black women.

There are many factors at play in these unacceptable statistics, such as black women being more pre-disposed to certain medical conditions. But let’s call a spade a spade. A lot of this is down to implicit racial bias in the medical community. Both Beyoncé and Serena Williams have used their platform to talk about this issue and it’s one that needs serious work and introspection from medical professionals across the board. Black women are often simply not believed as much as white women by doctors and nurses. This can mean they don’t speak up when something is seriously wrong and, in some cases, this proves to be fatal.

Muslim woman fights bigotry with love

A young Muslim woman, Shaymaa Ismaa’eel, 24, has demonstrated the perfect way to respond to hatred, ignorance, and bigotry: Love.

On April 21, she was attending a convention in Washington DC run by the Islamic Circle of North America, which works to establish connections between Islam and the public. Naturally the event was being picketed by Islamophobic knuckle draggers, pontificating on the evils of Islam bla bla bla. Shaymaa took the opportunity to troll them and took pictures of herself in front of the protesters, smiling and crouching down giving the peace sign. She posted the photos to her Twitter and Instagram along with the caption: “Kindness is a mark of faith. Those who aren’t kind have no faith.” – The Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him). The posts have gone viral and Shaymaa has been praised for using humor and love to deal with the ever-encroaching forces of hatred and division. Go on girl!

June 23, 2016 is a date that “will live in infamy,” to quote the great Franklin D. Roosevelt. On this day, the UK voted by the narrowest of margins to leave the European Union. Since then, the country has been thrown into chaos as it decides how, when, and indeed even IF it should still Brexit.

I’m a born and bred Brit (although I now live in Berlin), and even I find this whole mammoth clusterfuck confusing. I can’t even begin to imagine then how confusing it must be for everybody else around the world trying to make sense of this sorry farce, in between laughing fits at how the UK has completely taken leave of its senses Hence, I’ve decided to demystify the whole topic for you. I’m going to explain Brexit’s origins, how the UK ended up voting for it, where we are right now in the process, and how, if at all, we’re ever going to be able to sort out this giant catastrofuck of shittery.

Lots of non-Brits may not know this, but the UK actually comprises four constituent nations: England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland (there’s some argument over whether Northern Ireland is actually a nation, a province, or a region, but that’s for another day). In my opinion Brexit is a direct result of English nationalism. Point blank, period. Scotland and Northern Ireland both voted to remain, and although the Welsh were sucked in by the Vote Leave’s campaign lies, consistent polling shows they have now seen sense and are firmly back in the remain camp. So what makes the English so particularly blind in this scenario? Their history for one. Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland are all effectively conquered nations, and it was England that conquered them. England has always been an aggressive little country with ideas above its station, and this is paired with a nasty streak of exceptionalism. The empire is this belief made concrete. The English saw it as their God-given duty to civilise the dark recesses of the globe, for example Australia (but who’s laughing now? We sent a load of convicts to live in paradise, and kept the cold, dark, dank, windy rock in the North Sea for ourselves. Winning). This idea that somehow English shit doesn’t stink carries on to this day. It’s taught in our schools and is championed on a daily basis by the UK’s disgusting, out of control right-wing press. A large part of English society still believes the falsehood that it was little old Blighty who stood up to Hitler all alone in the Second World War (with a little help from Uncle Sam). Anybody who knows anything about history knows this to be absolute bollocks (best English swear word ever), but can you see the point I’m getting at? This false belief of greatness pervades British society at every level. It makes us incredibly arrogant as a nation and leaves the door to power wide open for anyone who’s going to feed our ego, tell us what we want to hear and, basically, suck our dick

It’s because of this inflated sense of self-worth, and an inflated sense of self-preservation, that in 2015, our then PM David Cameron (he of allegedly stuffing his genitals into a dead pig’s mouth fame. Google it) decided in his infinite wisdom to call a referendum on EU membership. He did this because his party, The Conservatives (think Republicans with worse teeth, mummy issues, and bang into BDSM), were afraid of losing seats in Parliament to UKIP (the UK Independence Party). UKIP at the time was led by Nigel Farage (perhaps you’ve heard of him? Friends with Trump. Think the bubonic plague and Ebola had a baby. Out of wedlock of course, the man’s a bastard in every sense of the word), and its sole reason for existence was to take us out of the EU. So in order to try and secure seats in parliament, and put to bed the never-ending Tory (another name for the Conservative party) rift over Europe, Cameron offered up the UK as a sacrificial lamb. He never thought for one second, nobody did, that the leave campaign would win. Little did he know…

The campaign to leave the EU was one of the most mendacious, divisive ever. I mean we all know politics is a dirty game, but these guys really excelled themselves. Ten points to Gryffindor, or rather to Slytherin. Harry, Hermione, and Ron would never have allowed Brexit to happen. So many lies were told, perhaps the biggest being splashed across the side of a bus and toured up and down the country, claiming we would benefit from another £350 million a week for our National Health Service. Lies. They claimed Turkey was about to join the EU, meaning that 80 million Turkish citizens would have the right to come and live in the UK. Lies. They claimed the UK would have to join a nascent EU army. Lies. They claimed doing a free trade deal with the EU would be “one of the easiest in human history.” Lies. A cornucopia of lies, all of which have since been proved to be total untruths. They’re splashy, headline grabbing lies though. Lies that make it onto the evening news. Couple this with an easy to remember slogan, “Take Back Control”, that gets right to the heart of white people’s totally unfounded fears about being replaced in their own country (yes I said it), and you have electoral dynamite. You have to give the leave campaign credit I suppose. They managed to tap into the fears of both the older generation, (who hearken back to the 1950s where every face was white, and women knew their place) and the “left behind”, people who have seen falling living standards and wages, and have had their access to things such as education and housing affected. The campaign took people’s, in many cases, righteous indignation, and focused it on the big bad EU. It’s the most brilliant use of diversion tactics I’ve ever seen. The problem of course is not the EU, it’s our failed political and economic system. But when you have such a convincing narrative, a population that was (and in large part still is) ignorant to the benefits of being an EU member, and a press that hammered home the Vote Leave lies non-stop, after having poisoned the well against the EU pretty much every day since we joined in 1973, and you have a recipe for disaster.

The morning after the referendum, a stunned David “the pig molester” Cameron emerged from 10 Downing Street to offer his resignation. That’s right Dave, light the blue touch paper and then run the hell away. In his place we got Theresa “The Grand High Witch/Lizard Queen” May. And this is where it all really begins to fall apart.

The referendum result was 52% leave, versus 48% remain, the narrowest of margins. The country was pretty much split right down the middle. A real leader would have reached out to both sides of the argument, to try and heal the wounds and build consensus on how to move forward together. Not the Maybot. She interpreted this narrow win (based on lies don’t forget. It has also since been proven that Vote Leave broke electoral law) as a mandate to pretty much sever all ties with the EU and place us firmly in the pocket of Trump’s hellish USA. She did this because she wanted to keep her precious Tory party together, and in order to do that she had to appease the lunatic hard-right, EU hating fringe of her party, a grouping of MPs known as the European Research Group, or ERG. The members of the ERG are like a sad reunion of characters from a now defunct 50s UK sitcom. Their leader Jacob Rees-Mogg, (aka the haunted Victorian pencil) and his views belong firmly in the era of Downton Abbey. He’s anti-gay, anti-abortion, anti-everything pretty much, Mark Francois pops up on the news most days red-faced and screaming about how we won the war, and then spewing some nonsense about the German car industry, and Sir Christopher Chope has tried to block legislation banning upskirting and female genital mutilation. You get the picture, they’re a lovely bunch. Theresa May has been running scared of these buffoons since the jump off and has done everything in her power to placate them. Indeed, at many points along this journey, it has seemed as if the ERG are the de facto rulers of the UK as May quakes in the corner in her kitten heels, ashen faced and impotent.

The ERG are the fantasists who believe that leaving with no deal, i.e. saying fuck you to our commitments to the EU, both financial and otherwise, throwing a massive tantrum á la Love and Hip-Hop reunion, and storming off is the best course of action. It has been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt by every economist worth their salt that no deal equals national suicide. We might as well all hold hands and jump off the white cliffs of Dover together. Adios. More than that though, no deal would be like the worst divorce ever. The EU and Britain have been married for more than forty years. We have a house together, kids, and a timeshare on the Costa del Sol. A break up of this magnitude requires patience, tact, a great deal of effort, and acting in good faith from both sides. Yet time and time again May has shown how bad she is at negotiating, antagonising the EU and parroting the line “no deal is better than a bad deal.” Bullshit Theresa. No deal is not better than a bad deal. No deal is the nuclear option. There’ll be food shortages, rapidly rising prices, the army on the streets, hell the NHS has even started stockpiling medicines. We’re basically on a war footing. Maybe it’ll be ok for you and your rich crony friends who’ll be able to ride out the economic storm in luxury. The rest of us will be reduced to foraging for scraps and cannibalising Grandma when she slips into a coma because there’s no fucking insulin to treat her diabetes.

May has the interpersonal skills of a block of granite with Asperger’s, and her cabinet has become a byword for incompetence over their handling of the negotiations. The British public has been forced to take front row seats and watch in horror as these amoebas destroy our standing in the world and dry up the well of EU goodwill towards us. The Torys couldn’t negotiate themselves out of a paper bag.

So where are we now? We were supposed to leave on March 29 of this year. That didn’t happen however, because the deal May brought back from Brussels was such a monumental turd, it has now been defeated three times (one of them by the largest majority in parliamentary history) in the House of Commons. She has been forced to go cap in hand to the EU and beg for more time to reach an agreement in parliament, so we don’t crash out without a deal. The overwhelming irony of a country that was supposed to be taking back control, pleading for more time from the very organisation it was supposed to be wresting back sovereignty from cannot be overstated. Face palm emoji. Right now, it looks as if the UK will receive an extension until the end of the year to finally decide what the hell we’re doing. However, with Brexit things move faster than Mike Pence closing down Pornhub Gay when Karen walks in on him, so by the time this article is published, things may well have changed.

It’s not all doom and gloom though. One of the positive things to come out of this is the way people are organising to try and reverse Brexit. There is now a real chance that we might be able to hold a second referendum, this time based on facts, and remain in the EU. There are so many gammons (the pejorative name given to Brexiters) aghast at this option. They claim it’s undemocratic to let people vote again. That we made the decision and the “will of the people” must be respected. Sieg heil! They seem to conveniently forget that parliament was allowed to vote on May’s deal three times. Nothing undemocratic in that though. The very definition of a democracy is that people are allowed to change their minds. The only reason Brexiters don’t want a second referendum, or People’s Vote as it’s being branded, is because they know this time they’d lose. Enough people have now woken up and unplugged themselves from the Brexit matrix that Leave wouldn’t stand a chance this time.

For someone like me, who feels equally British and European, the last three years have been a waking nightmare. I have seen the country that I love taken over by swivel-eyed, ideological, madmen. Every story about a Brexit related spike in hate crime, or about some innocent person speaking their mother tongue on the street and being abused for it is like a stake in my heart. I have fought bitterly with some of my closest friends on the subject, and when I go home for a visit now, there is a part of me that looks askance at everybody and wants to know which way they voted. This, apart from everything else, is the legacy of Brexit. It has made us suspicious of those we love and made the polarisation of the UK complete, Brexiters or Remainers. One or the other. There doesn’t seem to be any middle ground. Perhaps that’s the problem.

The only solace I take from this whole sorry situation, is that demographics and time are on our side. In my opinion, Brexit, and indeed Trump’s election are two sides of the same coin. The death knell of a system and mentality that knows its time has come. The US and the UK are both getting browner and queerer. Marginalised groups are finally finding their voice and are refusing to take the bullshit anymore. Brexit is a last desperate attempt to take us back to an imagined time of greatness. It won’t work. Even if we do end up leaving, 78% of young people would now vote to remain if we held the referendum again today. Their voices won’t be able to be ignored for long and we will end up rejoining the EU. Fact.

So, fuck you Nigel Farage.