My mum taught me the power of protest. My nan lost her eyesight. It was a terribly metaphorical disease where her tears literally dried up. When she shut her eyes, she described it as sandpaper across her eyes. Like thousands of other women, she was prescribed a dodgy drug for angina called Eraldin – she didn’t even have angina. My mum united these women to sue the drug company for millions of pounds. She was quite Erin Brockovich was my mum.
I became politicised as a way of navigating grief. My mum was always extremely political. I have fond memories of making signs as a child for the nuclear disarmament protests at Greenham Common, or helping her bake cakes for them. But she was very different to me. She was a very quiet woman, quietly diligent. When she died I was only in my 20s and I dealt with that by throwing myself into the things I knew mattered to her. I became psychoactive politically. It was definitely displacement of grief.
If you cut me I bleed Birmingham. Others would say it’s being a woman, but coming from Birmingham is the single most important part of my identity. I’m not always sure I feel English or British, but I always feel like a Brummie.
I have hope. The problem is that hope is harder to spread than fear. And, like lots of good things, it’s quite a boring message. It’s not as quick and dirty as “Take back control!”
The only good thing about the rise of fascism in this country is that everyone is now invested in politics. Ten years ago the problem was apathy. Now I speak to people on the school run or on the way out of parliament and it’s all anyone wants to talk about. Unfortunately, there are a whole load of people who are very vocal whose beliefs are the polar opposite of mine. But that’s democracy!
The tipping point for today’s division was the 2008 financial crash. How its effects could be used politically and rhetorically was seismic. What politicians of that time realised was that nuance doesn’t help get your message across.
My childhood dream was to be prime minister. I think I’d be really good at it and, at the moment, I’d still like the position, mainly because the last three people have been totally careless with the position. I’d do a good job because I have ambition beyond the ambition. In the case of Boris Johnson and David Cameron, their ambition was fulfilled the day they walked through the door; Theresa May was just crap at it. The job does sound like a massive ball ache, though. I really like going out with my mates dancing and I’d miss that.
Truth to Power: 7 Ways to Call Time on BS by Jess Phillips MP, is published by Octopus on 3 October, £9.99
