Standing in a Crowd

As will no doubt be obvious; I am not good with crowds. They make me feel claustrophobic, paranoid, tiny and insignificant, and any manner of other negative things. The dichotomy of being someone who believes passionately in the awesomeness of humankind, whilst also being terrified of said humans, is not lost on me. It's something that every now and then I sit back and laugh at because whilst it makes total sense - the more weight and importance you place on something, the more you will worry and care about it - it is, frankly, also kind of ironic.

So when I booked to go to and be part of just that - a crowd - I was unsurprisingly nervous. The list of things I knew I had to cope with on that day was not small: travelling alone into central London, spending the day alone amongst part of a crowd, taking part in workshops where I could potentially be called upon and have everyone look at me, and above all that trying to have a good time when I know all these things are difficult. Nonetheless I booked and made my way to Feminism in London.

I should add that I wasn't without support entirely - despite knowing no one there, I felt very comfortable in the knowledge that the event organisers had done a great deal to make sure I'd have a good day. Prior to the event I emailed them to find out whether there would be any quieter spaces available that I could retreat to. Not only were there many but if I put down on my registration form what my needs were, they'd direct me to them as soon as I'd arrived (sadly I'd already registered by this point but it turned out there were so many safe spaces for me to retreat to that they could have pointed in every direction).

So when I got there, after a journey that all things considered wasn't too bad especially considering I had to take the tube at 9am on a Saturday morning, I found myself a seat near a door at the back of the main hall and watched the room fill up. And it did - there were a thousand feminists in that room in the end and despite that it still felt quite spacious and, for me, surprisingly comfortable. I wasn't completely at rest of course, but I don't ever expect to be. But there was something about the knowledge that the 999 other people in the room were women (and men) who thought the same things I did, who wanted the world to be the same way I do, made me feel far safer in that crowd than I ever have done.

And so whilst I could spend this blog post talking about the fantastic panels, about how terrifying the statistics on natural births were or about how stunningly awesome Finn Mackay was, for me the single best thing about FIL10 was the crowd. This is such a weird thing for me to be saying I know, but I came out of the day not feeling drained like I expected to but feeling energised. Yes, I struggled through the day and yes, the journey home was horrible and yes, I did have to sit up on my own in the gallery sometimes because it was too noisy downstairs. But despite all those things I stood with 999 other feminists giving a standing ovation to the final panel and I felt safe and at home.

To me, that's worth more than anything - and I can't put into words how grateful I am that the event was so beautiful as to give me that.