A favourite insult amongst my relatives is ‘your lipstick is crooked.’ The other day, about to meet friends for the first time in forever, mine really was. It had been so long since I’d put any on that I drew outside the lines.

"My sister gets exasperated by identity politics: “The world is on fire and we’re arguing over pronouns?” She has a massive point - there are bigger things to worry about. But then my sister and I, as cis women, have never had to fight for our identity. We were born this way."

I love a slogan t-shirt. You can walk around with what you want to say emblazoned across yourself, without ever having to open your mouth.

As statues commemorating humans who dehumanised other humans for profit begin their international topple, spurred by that historic moment where a slave trader statue was chucked in Bristol harbour, and brown leaders, from Leo Varadkar to the mayor of London, talk about other statues that need to go, the Black Lives Matter movement has finally gone into #MeToo territory.

Let’s talk about racism. As a white person - even as the mother of two brown people - I am not and never will be qualified to talk about racism, so let’s hear from those who are.

It’s all about displacement activity, to distract the Teen from daytime drinking with the Kardashians, and to stop me from thinking about my adopted country of residence being run by an evil goblin and his Latin-speaking monkey.

In relation to the coronavirus - because at the moment everything is - why are countries led by women having better outcomes?

As the corporatocracy continues to freak out because its minions are all at home with their families, author and activist Arundhati Roy calls the pandemic “a portal”. A door in the back of a wardrobe to a new way of being. A hole in the space time continuum.