When I lived in Bristol I ended up randomly at a talk about legalization of drugs. My MP was on the panel. She had already been shooed out of my garden once, but that’s another story. Now here she was again. During the talk she mentioned she wanted to decriminalise drugs but had an issue with dealers. You’ve many heard of TERFSs and possibly SWERFs. Here are the DDERFs. Why split hairs? It’s all carceral feminism.
“I just don’t like them,” she said. I was a fist of emotions. I managed to wait to the end when my ego wanted to take her down publicly. No, no. I’m on a spiritual program now. Humiliating one MP isn’t gonna out the past right. I waited till the end.
“I just wanted to let you know how I feel about what you said up there. You know there is as much variation in dealers ethically as landlords of pubs. You get good ones who care about their customers and ones who exploit people.”
“I know it’s an unpopular opinion.” She said, standing by herself.
“Well your unpopular opinion is why my Dad went to prison. And why I was called scum at school. He was serving a social function. And I was dependent on him. We were all punished, it ruined many people’s lives.” She wasn’t getting it.
Another person from the panel who ran a group called anyone’s child, about people whose kids had ODd from dodgy drugs, was interested. He wanted me to speak in parliament about my experience.
“But I’m not anyone’s child. Anyone’s child is for innocent victims of drugs who get them from non innocent people like my Dad. My family aren’t innocent. My whole class isn’t innocent” He agreed the name wasn’t perfect and still wanted me to speak.