I am an advocate.

It is what I do.

I have always been that person who has stuck up for the little guy.

I have always been that person who will not stand for being bullied.

I have always been that person who believes in a kinder, more inclusive, more tolerant world.

Advocacy is what I do.

It has its drawbacks.

It means I am vocal.  And this means that it gives people an opportunity, a feeling they have the right, to attack me.

Change is hard, and very often people feel threatened by it.  And so they attack.

I am often accused of being a really negative person.  In fact I am the opposite.

If I did not believe totally and utterly in the ability of man to create a kinder, more inclusive, more tolerant world in which to live, well, what would be the point.

I’m betting the Dalai Llama feels the same.

I can guarantee Jesus felt the same way too {Although, full disclosure:   I don’t believe he is the son of god.  I do believe he was an incredible socialist who completely and utterly and unrelentingly questioned the jewish law of his day that he knew oppressed a vast number of his people.  He was in fact a complete advocate, so much so he died for it – go Jesus!}

Back to me and my advocacy.

So, I am not a big advocate that you may have heard about.


I am a small-time advocate.

I am that person who will stand up and tell the yobs on the bus to fuck off harassing little old ladies to get dinner money.  I am that person who once attacked a man who tried to rob her in broad daylight, whilst everyone stood and watched, utterly pissed off that someone thought this was an acceptable way to make a living.  I am very much that person who tells the teller at Aldi to flipping well slow down for the elderly person in front of me, who is shaking trying to load those fucking groceries into the trolley at break neck speed (what is with that anyway?).

I am that person who is very vocal about organised religion and how it protects patriarchal systems to subvert its followers, not to mention those of no or other faith.  I am that person who is so dismayed by our government who truly thinks it is okay to denigrate asylum seekers and old people and the homeless and single mothers and climate change, that I shake with visceral anger every time I think of them, hear them or see them.  I am that person who will speak up for people who feel they have no voice.

I am that person who is the squeaky wheel.

I am also that person who has tasted time and again the acute pain of losing a tribe based on this acute sense of social justice.

That hurts, but I have learned to live with that.

I have always been like this.  Maybe you have too.

From my earliest memories, I can remember always needing to point out injustice.  If I saw anyone treat another human being unfairly, I had to say something.  From the time I told my maths teacher, aged 10, to stick her maths up her arse after she forced me to stand up in front of my class and proceeded to humiliated me by wrongly accusing me of bunking (wagging) a maths test and when I ran home witnessing my mother telling the two children that appeared on my doorstep to drag me back to school to get off our property, I knew it was in my bones.

It has taken me 47 years to fully accept that.

I am a warrior.  I always have been.

I will call you out if I see an injustice.

I do not see the world as all sweetness and light.  I don’t.  Where some people see the good, the sweetness, the light, the unicorns and fairies, I see the shadows that lurk in the dark that would have that light extinguished.

I see a world full of injustice.  I see a world that is full of starving people who have nowhere to live, who are marginalised and victimised.  I see people in my own community who have lovely houses, yet have no voice.  I see that.  I am keyed into that.

We need you light seers, but the world needs us warrior advocates too.  Yin and yang, you know?

I live in a dramatic state of perpetual vigilance.  I can’t help it.  I am reactionary.  It is who I am.

My dad and husband keep telling me to go into politics.  Truth be told, I don’t know if I am that strong.  There are little protections for politicians who choose to go against the grain and as far as I can tell, it is a cat and mouse game full of compromises to see who can gain the most power.  It is, as far as I see, much less about the people.  So much happens in politics that should never happen, so much harm, so much damage from one human to another, simply to be the leader.

Someone asked me once what I stand for.

I don’t have a cause.

In essence, I stand for kindness.  In essence, I stand for humanity.  In essence, I stand for your right to live as you see fit as long as you do no other harm to another human being (either physically, verbally, emotionally or otherwise).  I am utterly against violence.  If you cause harm, I will say something.

Utopian?  Perhaps, but I like to think not.

And until I draw my last breath, I will continue to advocate.

Because advocacy is what I do.

How about you?  Are you an advocate?  Are you attracted to people who need your voice?  If you are, I would love to hear about it.

Much love,

SHW Signature





5 thoughts on “ADVOCACY IS WHAT I DO

  1. Thank you for being the person you are Sarah. I have been told a number of times throughout my life, “I need to learn when to keep my mouth shut.” In recent years though I’ve realised some people need another’s voice. Keep fighting the good fight xx


    1. Thank you Sarah. It is true, just last night someone told me last night that all people are able to fend for themselves, but that simply isn’t true. Time and again, throughout history, it has been proven that sometimes, often times, people feel they don’t have a voice. And that is where we step in and perhaps why that is why we were made this way. Thanks for stopping by and thanks for commenting xx


  2. yes, yes i am!
    Kindred spirit over here.
    I once got kicked out of a school because I dared to challenge the authority (my maths teacher). When I was pulled up in front of the Principal, I suggested they allow a student representative council to help management understand what was really going on at campus level. The reason I challenged (read: stood and yelled) at my maths teacher (who was also a minister) was because he felt that it was appropriate to deliver sermons instead of math tuition. The subject was always a variation of ‘wives, submit to your husbands’. I’d had enough. So they made me leave.
    I am very grateful (now!).
    But yes, injustice has always been sandpaper against my brain.
    Nice to know you soul sister.


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