Ding Dong

The death of Thatcher has spawned an outpouring of emotions; hatred and celebration mixed together and the open wound of the Iron Ladies policies has still a festering effect on us today. Here’s a selection of opinions, music and images from the last week.

anti-Thatcher protest at Trafalgar Square on Saturday 13th April 2013

I’m sorry Thatcher didn’t die hungry, or cold or alone. I hope she was terrified.

I hope the faces of the people she murdered in my community flashed through her mind. I hope she thought of Marian Daly who was callously murdered under her regime, leaving my friend without a mother. I hope the faces of us as children, marching against her in solidarity with men and women on the blanket, men and women on hunger strike in the ’80’s crossed her mind – I wonder if she realised she had sculpted our lives with horror? That she was responsible for the reaction on our streets to her regime? And that she literally created a black hole in which the lives of men, women and children were swallowed up?

Living in a warzone is a real and horrific experience. As a child she was the only person I truly hated because of what she was doing to my community, and that in itself is testament to the horror of her brutal regime in my community – that a child could hate.

Many people we knew were murdered with the collusion of British Government and Loyalist death squads under her regime, which she stood by. The list is endless, I can’t even scratch the surface. But, nothing has ‘gone’ since she died. She died, and left her indelible mark behind. So, Thatcher dying doesn’t really mean anything, in light of the loss and trauma that still oozes from the streets of my home.

So, FUCK YOU THATCHER. If it wasn’t for GIRO’s / Warzone center, a lot more lives would have been swallowed up in to the chaos of war.

WAR, WAR, WAR, WAR, YES IT WAS A FUCKING WAR, CAPICHE?

(used by kind permission of the author)