On Dit Edition 81.3 - Elle Dit by On Dit

Edition 81.3 â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Elle Dit

Volume 81 Edition 3 Editors: Casey Briggs, Stella Crawford and Holly Ritson. On Dit is a publication of the Adelaide University Union. On Dit is produced and printed on the traditional country of the Kaurna people of the Adelaide Plains. We recognise and respect their cultural heritage, beliefs and relationship with the land.

EDITORIAL 2 ON THE WEBSITE

CORRESPONDENCE 4 VOX POP WOMEN REPRESENTATIVES

6 8

STUDENT NEWS

WHAT’S ON

lifeoncampus.org.au/ondit facebook.com/onditmagazine twitter.com/onditmagazine

COLUMNS

Published 2/4/2013.

FEMINISM AIN’T NO PLACE FOR SISSIES: STIRLING CROMPTON

MY MOTHER SAYS: SAMANTHA PRENDERGAST

MEDICAL GIRLS: MICHELLE BAGSTER

ALL THE JILTED LADIES: ALICE BITMEAD

A SPACE OF HER OWN: SIX WOMEN CHOOSE THEIR FAVOURITE

GETTING COMFY: REBECCA MCEWEN

A PRIZE IS A PRIZE IS A PRIZE?: SOPHIE BYRNE

WOMEN IN ISLAM: YASMIN MARTIN

TEA LADIES: REBECCA SHEEDY

PERSISTENCE: AIMÉE THOMSON

KEEPING ABREAST: JESSICA SCOTT

ELOPING TO CANADA: GEMMA KILLEN

WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE?: EMMA JONES

LIFE ON THE FRINGE: NICOLA DOWLAND

DIVERSIONS 46 SNACKS FOR THE BUSY 21 ST CENTURY WOMAN: ELEANOR LUDINGTON

Cover and inside back cover photography by Alicia Strous. Front inside cover art by Nat Redmond. Thanks to the distribution fairies for distribution, Thomas for the tea and Lauren, for coming to our party.

EDITORIAL

HELLO POSSUMS,

We are eating pink cake. We are two ladies, sitting in the On Dit office, eating pink cake. We also chose pink as the feature colour for the magazine that you’re holding now. Why, you might ask? Because pink is a ‘girly’ colour. Because pink is fun, and pretty, and daring, and means something to so many people. Whether it’s the colour of bedroom walls, the streaks in that girl’s hair, the colour of that teddy bear he just can’t throw out, or the worst choice in colour anyone could possible imagine, people judge the colour pink. And Elle Dit, the women’s edition of On Dit, is about opinions on all things, including pink. It turns out women have a lot of opinions on women. Truly, we never intended that every article would be about ‘women’ to the extent we could have named them

all ‘Women and...’ and left it at that. Maybe it comes back to that old adage ‘write what you know’, but we found women sure had a lot to say about, well, women. So in this edition you’ll find women writing about academia, fairytale endings, Islam, breastfeeding on campus, writing, marriage and, as we’re still recovering from Mad March, the Fringe. But Elle Dit isn’t just about opinions. Elle Dit is a space to celebrate the stories, art, voices, and ideas of women. So that’s why you’ll only find the names of women contributors in this magazine. We’re not about moralising on the virtue of excluding dudes - don’t worry, Elle Dit isn’t exclusively for women (hi boys!). We simply believe in the importance of recognising and celebrating women’s spaces. That’s why the first feature in the edition is actually a collection of pieces: six of our contributors explore the meaning or value of some of their favourite women’s spaces (page 18).

Elle Dit is also about us fighting our student media fight for better representation of women in the media. Here at On Dit, we think we’re doing pretty okay. Representation of women in mainstream media, however, is just not good enough. Out of the 16 major national and metro papers, only one has a woman as Editor-in-Chief. Only one mainstream Australian media company has a woman as its CEO. Women aren’t playing an active role in the production of media which makes it easy to understand why they are so poorly represented by the end product. Mainstream media sources misrepresent women, by oversimplifying, oversexualising and overlooking women’s roles and identities. It’s concerning when by high school, girls believe that their value as a person depends on how they look. We need to be concerned about the influence that the media has on perceptions of women.

ON THE WEBSITE

Recently, the SRC, in collaboration with YWCA and the Women’s Information Service, organised a screening of Miss Representation. Miss Representation is a documentary about, you guessed it, the (mis)representation of women in and by the media, and how this phenomenon contributes to the underrepresentation of women in positions of power and influence more generally. The takeaway message from Miss Representation seems to be that there’s something to be said for role models. If you don’t hear a woman’s voice on the radio, how can you imagine yourself, as a woman, speaking on the radio? If you don’t see women anchoring the 7pm news, or a woman’s name in print, or a woman running a country, it’s difficult to even consider that such things are possible. To solve the problems in the current relationship between women and the media, we need more women in the media. Ladies, it’s a cycle (no, not that kind of cycle. And this is the only period joke we’ll make in this edition). Once more women are involved in the media, the media becomes a more accessible and welcoming space for women. Women’s stories are covered, and they’re covered in more appropriate and sensitive ways. And that’s what’s happening here, on the pages of the magazine you’re holding, and on every page we print for the rest of the year. So yes, Elle Dit is about pink. But mostly, it’s about women. With much lovely lady love and solidarity, Stella and Holly (and Casey)

HEY! DID YOU KNOW THAT THERE’S THIS NEW FANGLED THING CALLED THE INTERNET? WE’RE TOTES LOVING IT! HERE’S A SAMPLE OF WHAT’S ONLINE AT LIFEONCAMPUS.ORG.AU/ONDIT. THE HOST

The Host is the latest film adaptation of a Stephanie Meyer book. This time, however, the story is set in a perfect world, where greed and violence have been eliminated, rather than an imperfect world, inhabited by really violent characters. Nicola Dowland reviewed the film for On Dit, see what she thinks on our website.

FASHION IS THE NEW BLACK

Olivia Di Fabio thinks that there’s more to fashion than short skirts and side-boob revealing singlets – she’s more about the artistic aspects of aesthetic design, and fashion as social commentary. Read all about how she’s bringing sexy back, without the sex.

FAREWELL, 100 MINUTES OF MY LIFE

Genevieve Novak reviewed Farewell My Queen as part of the French Film Festival. It’s a costume drama that involves Marie Antoinette, beheadings, a secret lesbian affair, a drunk old man, and, possibly, an out-of-work Jonas Brother. Is it as good as it sounds?

CORRESPONDENCE

Dear On Dit,

I’m sorry to say you’re wrong. Very wrong. On page 13 of Edition 81.2 you have said holidays begin on Easter Monday, Monday of week five. They don’t. They start Monday 15 April. It’s not very nice of you to get people’s hopes up like that. Yours full of disappointment, Emily Dear Emily April Fools’!

SO SORRY

In Sam Young’s article Much Ado About Something Nothing in Edition 81.2, we made edits that unintentionally changed the meaning of the article. In 2011, the initial proposal by the Faculty of HumSS was to cut half of the tutorials in the semester, rather than just two tutorials. Additionally, the forum held with staff and students referred to was held in semester two 2011, not 2012.

Dear On Dit,

Love, the Eds.

Targedoku was too easy in issue 2. I expect several minutes of angst next time.

Dearest Editors,

Infinite love and servitude, Sam Young

I would like to express some of my sadness regarding the nearly non-existent sighting of Edition 81.1 at the Roseworthy campus. I have only seen one lonely magazine sitting on a shelf in the library and no where else on campus. I am unsure if there will be any available at the O’Day tomorrow as I will not be present, but I would like to hope there will be. I felt I should express such a disappointment to you!! Lauren Williams Hi Lauren and Roseworthy students, We haven’t forgotten about you! We’re working on better ways to get the magazine out on your campus, but in the meantime you can always pick one up from the Union office. Dear On Dit, Your horoscopes fucked me over. (I am a Scorpio) Yours sincerely, One student who happened to be going to a Philosophy tutorial and also had an accident on his bicycle on his way there! Hugo Cronin We like getting emails! Email us your thoughts with the subject line ‘Letter to the Editor’ to ondit@adelaide.edu.au and you might be printed on this page in a future edition.

Dear Editors, Look. The Patriarchy. It’s shit, right. I don’t want to go blaming men, not too much, but it’s hardly a surprise is it. The Lizard Overlords were always going to start by taking over the easy targets, and from then on out it’s just been a matter of building up control. Imagine you’re a man in a hunter-gatherer society. Maybe you’re not too bright, but you’re a pretty good hunter, you’re strong and reliable. One day, you’re chasing a deer, or a rabbit, or something, out on your own and suddenly there’s a bright light. Goodbye Mr Hunter, hello Lizard King. I’m not saying that’s how it all started, but I don’t hear anybody saying it isn’t, either. It’s pretty obvious though. The lizard people have clearly been targeting men and putting them into places of power for millenia. Feminism over the last hundred years has been possibly the biggest setback the lizard people have ever faced in their quest for total domination. But they will not be stopped. The lizard people don’t confine themselves to taking over men, and as we become ever more prominent in public life, we will be increasingly targeted too. So watch out, dear editors. See, it’s well and good to tell men ‘don’t rape people’ and expect that maybe they’ll listen because they’re decent human beings, but to tell a lizard overlord ‘don’t take control of my body and use it to conquer the universe’, well, that’s a different story. In Solidarity, Annie Mousse

Dear On Dit,

Dear Editors,

:’)

Edition 81.1 included a story on the 2013 round of enterprise negotiations for improved conditions and pay for university staff (p13). A number of comments by management lead negotiator, Professor Pascale Quester, are both incorrect and disrespectful to staff of the University. Professor Quester stated that ‘People expect it [enterprise bargaining] to be run like any other negotiation with this strong union class warfare’. Given that Professor Quester is representing University senior management, one must assume that ‘people’ is to be read as referring to either her own view of negotiations or that of senior management. It is also interesting to note that the statement implies that staff who are members of the NTEU are a different ‘class’ of person from senior management. Professor Quester also stated that ‘Personally I don’t think that industrial action is particularly powerful. When school teachers go on strike the parents are really inconvenienced. Here you do it and the students don’t care. The parents don’t care’, she said.

Stan Mahoney

Dear Adelaide University Liberal Club, I happened to acquire a discarded copy of your Club’s publication The Reporter and a particular article happened to catch my attention. In his article ‘Leftist Nonsense’, Alex Hyde heavily criticised those who campaigned for a Second-Hand Book Shop & Swap at the 2012 student elections. In Alex’s words, this idea ‘Simply could not work outside the fantasy land of the socialist mentality.’ Contrary to Alex’s beliefs, those elected Student Representative Council on this very policy have spent the last few weeks operating a Book Shop & Swap. This project has assisted 83 students sell over $3000 worth of second-hand textbooks as well as raising an additional $2500. Whilst it is important to publically debate policy, it was disappointing to see Alex’s article evolve into a malicious rant. The fact that his article openly slandered advocates of this project as being ‘clueless’, ‘self-righteously ignorant’, ‘catastrophically absent of sound reasoning’, ‘scum’, ‘narrow-minded’ and ‘stupid’ was disappointing and probably a reasonable reflection of the Club that proudly published the article in the first place. Regards, Lawrence Ben

I am surprised that Professor Quester holds the view that student and parents do not care if staff engage in industrial action. Certainly staff do not take lightly the effects of industrial action on their students. The bargaining claims are designed to have a significant positive flow-on effect for students. One example is capping casual academic numbers and the creation of more continuing academic positions. This advantages students by providing better access to lecturers and tutors and better continuity of learning. Professor Quester expressed concern about the interests of students in the bargaining process by stating ‘The union should not take the students hostages at any point.’ It is worth noting that the NTEU was contacted by the student body and no hostages were taken in the course of the conversation. Furthermore and to the credit of the student body, the interest in staff conditions demonstrates a clear understanding that those conditions have a direct impact on the student’s educational experience. Professor Quester concluded by saying ’This whole talk of industrial action is all about chest beating a la class warfare. That’s not constructive and that’s not what’s best for the university’. Taking industrial action is a workplace right enshrined in the Fair Work Act. The repeated reference to staff of the University belonging to a different class of person from that of Professor Quester and those she represents highlights a concerning disconnect between senior management and University staff. This will only serve to exacerbate bargaining tensions. Kevin Rouse NTEU SA Division Secretary

VOX POP

6 WE ASKED SOME LOVELY LADIES ON CAMPUS THESE QUESTIONS: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

What is the best thing about being a lady? Finish this sentence: Justin Bieber would look better with... Who’s your favourite lady author? Are you wearing pants? Would you breastfeed? Why? Who’s your favourite Disney princess? Why?

CHARI, PSYCHOLOGY, 2ND YEAR 1. The Power. 2. A girl next to him. I don’t really know. 3. Jane Austen. 4. No, but I do. 5. I did – because it’s the best thing for my child that I can do. 6. Snow White – my parents told me I was like her when I was little.

MIA, INTERNATIONAL STUDIES, 2ND YEAR 1. Everything! There’s a certain power. 2. He’s not really my type, but maybe a beard? 3. J.K. Rowling – Harry Potter is pretty awesome. 4. Yes, jeans. 5. Yeah, definitely. It’s a good, natural thing to do. 6. Ooh that’s a hard one. Probably Rapunzel from Tangled – I really relate to that film.

DIANNE, GENERAL MANAGER OF THE UNION 1. Who says I’m a lady? 2. Who’s Justin Bieber? 3. Virginia Woolf or Jane Austen, depending on my mood. 4. I wear the pants. All the time. 5. Sure – if I had kids. 6. I don’t know any princesses, but I can name a few punk rockers. Patti Smith is my princess.

STEPHANIE, ARTS/EDUCATION, 3RD 1. Being able to dress up, multitasking. I could think of so many! 2. He’s pretty good as he is. 3. Ellen de Generes. 4. Sure am. 5. Probably not. It’s just not something that happens in my family. 6. Minnie Mouse. She’s not so princess-like.

NARUL, ARCHITECTURE (MASTERS), 1ST YEAR 1. We can dress up beautifully. 2. Better hair and increased height. 3. J.K. Rowling. 4. Yes, sure! 5. Yes – for spacing out your children and getting your strength back. 6. Cinderella. I liked the story, that she was poor, had stepsisters, and had nice shoes.

MOLLY, MIDWIFERY, KATIE, MATHS/COMPUTER SCIENCES & ELLY, LAW/ ARTS, 1ST YEARS

1. M: Boobs. E: Oh I was going to say that! Lady Clothes. K: Don’t have to shave my face. 2. M: No head. E: Ryan Gosling’s face. K: Not a girl’s voice? Also if I was blind and desperate. 3. M: J.K. Rowling. E: Simone de Beauvoir. K: I don’t know any others. E: *googles lady authors* Harper Lee is a lady. K: Harper Lee then. 4. M: No. E: Yeah, I’m wearing overalls, which are like a onesie, so that counts. K: No. 5. M: Yep. It’s the natural thing to do, and it’s healthier. I could keep going if you like! I know all about it. E: If I could produce milk – I have small boobs so I’m not sure. K: Yep, it’s better for the kid. 6. M: Jasmine – because she’s an Arab. E: Ariel – she’s a ranga like me. She was the only pretty ranga I could relate to. K: I never watched much Disney, but probably Belle, because she’s crazy.

STATE OF THE UNION DEANNA TAYLOR

Sometimes it’s easy to forget why feminism is still relevant, especially with respect to university life. The Union President is a woman. The Student Representative Council President is a woman. The Clubs Association President is a woman. When there are so many women in leadership roles, it becomes easy to fall into the trap of believing feminism isn’t necessary. But it is. While each of the student organisations mentioned above have women as President, participation overall in the governance of those organisations leaves a lot to be desired. Admittedly, the 2013 Union Board of Directors has a 50/50 gender-split – this is fantastic, but definitely hasn’t been the case historically. Of the 23 members of the SRC, only 8 are women (not counting Women’s Officer, for which identifying as a woman is a requirement). On the Executive of the Clubs Association, only two out of seven members are women (again not counting the Women’s Officer). At Clubs Association Council meetings, there is similarly not a large number of women as club delegates in the room. Representation of women in the senior administration of the University is arguably even worse. There are certainly

WOMEN ON CAMPUS STILL FACE COMPLEX ISSUES, AND THE PATRIARCHY STILL RUNS DEEP. strong and intelligent women as leaders – Deputy Vice-Chancellor (Academic) Pascale Quester and Pro Vice-Chancellor (Student Experience) Denise Kirkpatrick.

on being ahead of the curve, to still have senior university committee meetings in which only 2 out of the 13 people sitting around the table are women.

However, at the University’s senior leadership retreat that I attended in February, the women would have barely made up a third of the people present.

It is intolerable that potentially two thirds of female University of Adelaide female students are suffering sexual assault and rape.

The numbers don’t lie. Women may make up over 50 per cent of university students nowadays, but participation in many areas of leadership and representation is sorely lacking. On top of this issue, we have the issue of sexual violence and harassment on campuses all around the country. When the National Union of Students ran the Talk About It survey in late 2010/early 2011, they found that 67 per cent of female students had had an unwanted sexual experience. Results also showed that 86 per cent had experienced sexual harassment. Even if in the University of Adelaide’s case, those statistics are only half of that, that’s still not good enough. It goes without saying that this is unacceptable and has to stop. Women have made a lot of progress but there is still a lot to be done. It is hugely problematic for a Group of Eight university, that prides itself

The SRC Women’s Officer will work on campaigns throughout the year to raise awareness around issues for women on campus. But bottom line: don’t be lulled into a false sense of security because there happen to be a number of women at the helm of student organisations this year. Women on campus still face complex issues, and the patriarchy still runs deep. It’s going to take vigilance and persistence if we hope to ever address these issues, and achieve true equality and liberation for women. Deanna Taylor Union President auupresident@auu.org.au Twitter: @auulifeoncampus facebook.com/auulifeoncampus

QUIZ YOUR REPS

STUDENT REP COLUMN

MIKAELA WANGMANN BEC MCEWEN NUS WOMEN’S OFFICER

Q: A:

Tell us about your role as NUS Women’s Officer.

My job is to run national campaigns and lobby government to better address women’s issues.

You’ve been looking into women’s experience at colleges, tell us about that?

I was interviewed by Cleo about O’Week and the stories that came out then about sexual assault, especially amongst first year women at college. For example, one (non-South Australian) college’s O’Week task was for women to perform five sexual acts, with five men, on five consecutive days.

Q: A:

One of your plans is an all female Hottest 100 – what’s that about? Given that in the past ten years, the number of women in triple j’s hottest 100 has decreased, I’m going to lobby triple j later in the year for them to run a ladies only Hottest 100.

Your ongoing campaign is the Talk About It Survey, a survey run by NUS about women’s safety on campus. How can women get involved?

We’re still seeking submissions for this year’s report, so head to tinyurl.com/ bq6twxv to fill in the survey and make your voice heard.

Q: A:

What’s the best thing about being a lady?

Oh there’s lots of great things! That’s a really hard question. I really like skirts.

We’re lucky enough to live in a time where women are enrolling in university in higher numbers than ever before. Some women are privileged enough to move from high school, to university, to the workplace without ever feeling that gender is a barrier to them achieving their dreams. We can’t, however, let that lull us into a false sense of security. There are still many issues which disproportionately affect women on campus, particularly women from disadvantaged or culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds. A couple of weeks ago I told a friend that I’d been made Women’s Officer on the SRC. ‘Oh good,’ she said. ‘Can you tell me what the Women’s Officer actually does?’ Some of you reading this may never have heard of the role before or might not understand what it means. As Women’s Officer, I advocate on behalf of the women on campus. This might be as simple as contacting someone within the university administration or as large and complex as organising and running a campaign or event around a particular issue. I come to the role of Women’s Officer determined to do my best

(with your help) to ensure our campus is an environment in which all women feel welcome and secure. I come ready to lobby the university on behalf of women, and to run the campaigns and events that women on campus care about. But I can’t represent the interests of women on campus unless the women on campus come to me and tell me what they want. If you are a woman at the University of Adelaide and have a problem with something that the university is doing, are having difficulty accessing services, have an idea for a campaign we should run, or have had an experience on campus that has made you feel unsafe or unwelcome, let me know. I can only help you if I know about it. You can email me or drop a note into the box in the Women’s Room (basement, Lady Symon Building). In the research I undertook for my piece on women in academia, an academic I spoke to told me that while women were certainly in the door of academia, they weren’t yet at home. For many women, I am sure the same is true of university. I hope that in 2013 I can help make this campus feel more like a home for all women. Bec McEwen SRC Women’s Officer srcwomens@auu.org.au Twitter: @adelaidesrc facebook.com/adelaidesrc

LET’S MAKE THIS CAMPUS FEEL LIKE HOME FOR ALL WOMEN

STUDENT NEWS

SRC CONSTITUTIONAL CHANGES

After several years of failed attempts, the SRC have approved amendments to its Constitution to enable it to, well, function. The changes made were largely uncontroversial, but resolve a number of widely agreed problems with the current Constitution. Amendments include giving the SRC the ability to: Replace General Councillors where vacancies arise; Promote General Councillors to fill vacancies in Office Bearer positions; Remove members from their positions if they fail to submit reports; and Remove General Councillors from their positions if they fail to attend meetings (bringing the attendance requirements for General Councillors to the same standard as those for Office Bearers). The SRC are planning further discussions around particular Office Bearer portfolios, including potential changes to the Postgraduate, Social Justice and Environment Officer positions. These discussions are considerably more contentious amongst the SRC. The new Constitution will come into effect upon lodgement with the Office for Consumer and Business Affairs. Amendments to various regulations of the SRC were also proposed, primarily around conduct of meetings and the Executive committee. These had not been finalised by the time On Dit went to print.

TAIB MAHMUD COURT

The SRC looks likely to revive its campaign to rename the ‘Taib Mahmud Court’ (the courtyard outside the Ligertwood Building). The court is named after the Chief Minister of Sarawak Taib Mahmud, a former student at the Unviersity of Adelaide. The Chief Minister has been alleged to have abused his public office by, among other things, overseeing unsustainable, illegal logging of forests in Malaysia, human rights violations regarding the native tribes of Sarawak, and unethical business dealings. The SRC endorsed an open letter to be sent to the Vice-Chancellor, condemned the University of Adelaide’s relationship with Taib Mahmud, and endorsed the name change of the court.

STOP THE SWEARS

The most recent meeting of the Clubs Association Council, a normally quite docile affair, turned contentious as the organisation debated the use of swear words at public events. During O’Week, the club Resistance held a stall in the car park next to the Barr Smith Lawns. As part of their advertising they wrote on the ground using chalk, including the phrase ‘Unfuck the world: Join Resistance’. This was met with some concern by leaders of the Clubs Association and staff of the Union. A Union employee requested that the Clubs Association ban Resistance from holding a stall at future O’Weeks, and that they have funding withheld from them.

The Clubs Association Council resolved to put Resistance on notice. This is a largely symbolic penalty, but can lead to further penalties in future if issues are not resolved. The Council also requested an apology from the club. On Dit, on the other hand, will make no apologies for swearing.

PUPPY DAY!

Excitement for a proposed Puppy Day is building. From the SRC meeting papers, the day is for ‘Students to come and interact with tiny cute dogs for funsies and for stress relief’. The initial proposal was to hold Puppy Day at the same time as the Student Health Expo, but concerns were raised as to this impacting on the ability of Muslim students to attend the event. This proved to be a particularly engaging item at the recent SRC meeting, with debate at one point centering on the merits of kittens rather than puppies. Talk was shut down by President Catherine Story, after remarking ‘If you want to talk about the Puppy Day, talk about the Puppy Day. I won’t have any discussions about kittens’. The day will likely be held late in semester one.

Got a super secret tipoff about a story happening on campus? Send us an email with the subject line ‘Super secret tipoff’ at ondit@adelaide.edu.au

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WHAT’S ON. 12

WELCOME,

AUSTRALIAN WOMEN WRITERS CHALLENGE

Have something to add? Think you know what’s on? Let us know at ondit@adelaide.edu.au

If you’re reading this, chances are you’re a) a woman and b) into reading, and possibly writing. If so, read on!

Here’s where you’ll find information, gossip, shoutouts, news, events, bake sales, pub crawls and anything else you could possibly want to know about your university.

INDOFEST

INDOfest brings the colours, flavours and sounds of Indonesia to South Australia. The sixth annual INDOfest Family Fun Day of Indonesian arts, food and culture will be held in Rymill Park on Sunday 14 April from 11am-4pm, and showcase cultural performances, workshops, cooking demonstrations, information & craft stalls.

Oh la la!

The French Film Festival runs until April 7. Head to www.affrenchfilmfestival.org/sessions. aspx to see what’s on. Highlights include Christian Louboutin’s Feu, showing on April 5. The French Club runs events all year, including conversation groups (Mondays, 1pm, Hub forecourt). Contact french@auclubs.com.au for more info.

TIPS AND RUMOURS The tutorials that were originally cut in the Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences may be back on, but how are they now being paid for? We hear that an email went out after the reversal from the Executive Dean informing staff that tea and coffee facilities would not be provided in staff kitchens anymore Either the Faculty of HumSS go through a lot of coffee, or someone has seriously done their maths wrong.

The Australian Women Writers Challenge began in 2012 for the National Year of Reading and is running again in 2013. It aims to support and promote writing by Australian women, and to help overcome the gender bias in literary review pages. You can sign up to review books for the challenge at any time in the year. Head to australianwomenwriters.com/2013challenge/ for more information or to register. And turn to p. 29 for some reading suggestions to get you started.

EXCHANGE STUDENT? READ THIS!

ESN Adelaide Uni runs events all year round just for you, so your time in Adelaide is absolutely amazing! Find them on Facebook to stay up to date with the latest news. And make sure you buy your ticket for the Wine Tour on April 7 before they sell out!

OVERHEARD@ADELAIDE UNI HAVE WRITING [After a fire alarm went off in Napier]

Criminal law lecturer: ‘When I find the arts student that did this!’ [said lecturer proceeded to conduct lecture outside Ligertwood.] ‘If you’ve been a vegetarian for, like, 5 years, is there even any meat left in your body?’ Are you an Honours, Masters or PhD student interested in experimental garden research? Looking to further develop your presentation skills?

If so, get in touch with Scott Murison (g.studio@bigpond.net.au) for more information about his newly initiated garden club.

TALENT? WANT MONEY? APPLY HERE. Monash University in conjunction with the Emerging Writers’ Festival is pleased to present the Monash Undergraduate Prize for Creative Writing. First prize: $4000 Closing date: 15 April Visit emergingwriters festival.org.au/ monashprize/ for more information.

UPCOMING TRAINING SESSIONS

Did you know that the Union offers 50 per cent off a range of accredited training programs? Build your resume and become a better graduate! APPLY FIRST AID - APRIL 9 $160.00 $80.00

RESPONSIBLE SERVICE OF ALCOHOL - APRIL 18 $130.00 $65.00 MENTAL HEALTH FIRST AID - APRIL 23 $125.00 $60.00 To register, email auu.employment@adelaide.edu.au

AEROSPACE FUTURES

Aerospace Futures is a conference in Adelaide in July 2013, and will expose students to opportunities in the aerospace industry. For more information, contact AeroFutures@ ayaa.com.au.

Each month the Friends of the University of Adelaide Library host public events, mostly to do with books. On April 11, Lance Campell and Mick Bradley will discuss their book City Streets - ‘a catalogue of commerce and a labour of love’ for Adelaide. Gold coin admission. RSVP: by April 9 to robina.weir@ adelaide.edu.au

The next political turmoil:

146

Student Elections: Christmas:

267

MISSED CONNECTIONS

BARISTA TRAINING - APRIL 15 $295.00 $140.00

LIBRARY FRIENDS!

DAYS UNTIL:

We sat on that couch in the Hub that one time and I saw you reading my article in On Dit. You laughed in all the right places. I laughed too so you didn’t feel so lonely. I think we must be MFEO. It’s been 3 years, but seeing you at Lucy’s party on Saturday night reminded me how much I loved your penchant for paisley shirts and corduroy. Send us your lonely hearts and we’ll find you your better half.

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FEMINISM AIN’T NO PLACE FOR SISSIES STIRLING CROMPTON IS ONE OF ‘THOSE BLOODY FEMINISTS’

Bette Davis once famously stated that ‘Old age ain’t no place for sissies.’ I may add that feminism ain’t no place for them, either. It is no understatement that it is greatly difficult to determine which wave feminism is currently on. For many years the ‘f’ word has received criticism along the lines that it is as dirty as a certain four-letter word starting with ‘c’ used to describe a particular part of the female anatomy. Imagine you work full-time at major corporate company. You’re in the admin department, and you find that your pay doesn’t equate to that of your male colleague, whose duties in the workplace are identical to yours. You want equal pay, yet your male colleague sneers – ‘You’re not one of those bloody feminists, are ya?’ Yes indeed, you are. Imagine standing in your bedroom, deciding what to wear for a night out on the town. Considering where you’re headed, suitable clothing seems to be short dresses and skirts that barely reach your knees, and shirts that barely cover your cleavage. You fear that this may warrant unwanted attention from the opposite sex. You fear you may be putting yourself in danger, walking the city streets in the early hours of the morning dressed in these clothes, yet you don’t actually want your clothing to give others the authority to take advantage of you. Does this make you a feminist? Why yes, it does!

The other night, I saw a film called Goddess. It was fantastic. My only concern was that I was unable to hear parts of the film because a male audience member had had some sort of disagreement with the plot. He grew increasingly uncomfortable in a scene where the ‘male gaze’ was reversed – Magda Szubanski sang about how fabulous she is while men danced around her in servant fashion. I find it interesting how, when the roles are reversed, men struggle to sit dutifully through romantic comedies. Men are not the only participants in female oppression. I’ll use the example of a decision I made recently to cut my hair. It wasn’t just a cute little shoulder-length bob that I was after, I wanted full-on Anne Hathaway post-Les Misérables-style. I stepped into the salon and showed the female hairdresser a picture of what I wanted. She asked me, ‘Are you sure? It’s very risky.’ I silently contemplated the reasons why a short haircut would be ‘risky.’ Is it because my ears would get cold in winter? Because I would no longer be damaging a mane of tangled split ends with straightening irons and curling wands? I simply nodded and said yes, and the hairdresser took the cutout photograph of Anne Hathaway and continued with ‘Oh she’s so pretty. She was hotter with longer hair though.’ I admit, I felt concerned over the fact that a member of the same sex had oppressed me. Alas, feminism ain’t no place for sissies! Our oppressions make us stronger, but surely our strengths can help us work towards a better, more equal future.

Rape culture is a hot topic among women’s rights activists, and there is discomfort over the blame that is put on women when they are sexually violated. No one is ever ‘asking’ to be raped, no matter what they are wearing or where they are. I believe that the majority of women are unaware of how oppressed we are. Laura Mulvey’s ‘male gaze’ theory, which was developed in the early 1970s, still proves itself in nearly every aspect of the media. Basically, Mulvey’s theory is that in classic Hollywood films women are used merely as objects of a heterosexual man’s erotic desires. Somehow, this theory of a fictional world has worked its way into reality, and most of us feel the unquenchable need to seek male approval, or else our self-esteem isn’t valid. Right?

Stirling Crompton is a 2nd year Bachelor of Social Sciences student. She’s an intersectional feminist, and could probably list every Meryl Streep film without IMDb assistance.

THINGS MY MUM TAUGHT ME SAMANTHA PRENDERGAST’S MUM IS KIND OF COOL ART: KATIE HAMILTON

Sometimes I get sick, and when I do, it’s nice to have someone who cares, notices, or feels compelled to care or notice. That person was once my mum. Then I moved out of home and suddenly she couldn’t care less. Mum I have a cold. Oh yeah? That’s no good, sorry GTG. It was sad, challenging. After 18 years of living in her house, eating her food, and stealing change from her purse, it had come to this. I sucked it up, asked her for money every three months, and got on with my life. Weirdly, she also got on with hers. I don’t know if it’s the hormones or the easy access to air con and brand name foods, but something about being a teenager and living at home makes you forget that your parents are human. When I moved out of home I didn’t give much thought to what Mum would do without me. I was the seven year old who assumed teachers sleep in a box under their desks. I certainly didn’t imagine that once I was gone, Mum would do her own thing. But it was barely two months before she enrolled in TAFE and started teaching art to mentally

disabled adults. My parents moved towns and Mum made new friends and occasionally forgot to pick up the phone because she had a hangover. What the shit, I thought, my mum is kind of cool. It made me wonder whether my mum had been cool before, in a past life without children and a mortgage. I know she was an aerobics instructor, and that seems decidedly uncool. She also marched in a marching band with no instruments and lots of feathered hats. When I visited my uncle he told me about the yoghurts Mum used to buy when they were kids. The ones he’d eat just to make her mad. Another uncle remembers her getting a scooter, entering a dance competition, and falling in love with a dude they nicknamed ‘Knobby’. Cool’s probably not the word, but it seems fair to say that pre-Sam Mum, much like post-Sam Mum, had her own life. I can only self-centredly assume that my sister and I stole all that and replaced it with car pools. Mum did a good job of teaching us to clean and cook and basically maintain ourselves in a regular state of alive. But she did a less good job of making us appreciate that she’d kept us from dying in a pit of our own filth. It wasn’t until my share-house fridge failed to clean itself that I realised how much she did. Currently my room could be described as a ‘dirty hole’. I’m pretty sure I have bills to pay but I can’t remember which ones. And when I tried to ring my mum to ask about health insurance and how that shit works, she was out with Tina. HOW THE TABLES HAVE TURNED. The good thing about mums is that, unlike their kids, they normally return calls. And when you’re hyperventilating about whatever you think is important, they’ll force-feed you perspective. My mum and I still ‘clash’ sometimes, partly because we’re both super stubborn and partly because I’m a giant know-it-all. But recently I realised that, even though 15 year-old me just wanted to be left alone and expressed that sentiment regularly, my life would’ve been much worse if Mum hadn’t ignored me, and stayed with me, and told me to stop being a jerk. Some people make a fuss of your cold, others make sure you don’t become an arsehole. My mum’s the latter kind, and that’s why I love her so.

Samantha Prendergast is in her billionth year of uni. She graduated from arts/law, is sticking round for history honours, and finds everything about Russia endlessly cool.

MEDICAL GIRLS MICHELLE BAGSTER WELCOMES US TO THE MED SCHOOL ART: CHLOE MCGREGOR

I’m in a tutorial. There are three girls and five guys. It’s unusual. Normally, the girls outweigh the boys 60/40. I chose the right field, clearly. The number of girls in medicine has skyrocketed since the early twentieth century where a woman doctor wasn’t a thing (ok, I lie. Laura Fowler graduated from the University of Adelaide in 1891, but I imagine she got sick of convincing people that she was, in fact, a medical doctor). I guess that makes me largely unqualified to discuss gender issues. Men in the med school seem to have a general sense that there is no real reason to act superior, and they generally have as good an understanding of the female reproductive system as we do. And they have a good reason for that understanding.

There is an infamous lecture we all attended in first year: it turned out to be a series of pictures of ‘normal healthy vulvas,’ and contrary to popular belief, nobody was left permanently blind afterwards. In fact, I think starting medicine at uni is probably the first time being female hasn’t been treated as particularly different or distinct. My Catholic girls high school prescribed impractical bunchy skirts that made playing difficult without the long procedure of changing into the sports uniform in cramped toilet cubicles, and in assemblies we sang to our founding nun, asking her to ‘guard us from sin.’ At work, we made a bit of a thing over a male joining us on the checkouts. Usually, the guys stack the shelves and the girls checkout the customers. I’m not sure why. It may be something to do with boys’ muscles and girls’ faces. But that’s a sexist assumption, isn’t it? I’m gonna call it coincidence. But at uni, I’ve experienced virtually nothing. Girls are allowed to do the same things as guys, course-wise, and there isn’t even a big deal made about it. That’s just how it is. There is a group called ‘Adelaidies’ that boys can’t join, and girls can’t be tenors or basses in choir. But that’s about the extent of it. I know I’m probably sheltered, and lucky. My girlfriends in engineering are part of a rare species and I can’t imagine their life. For me, it’s only when I leave uni that I have trouble with preconceived notions of what a woman can do. I have told acquaintances what I study and heard the response ‘What made you want to be a nurse?’ Frankly, I would make a terrible nurse, but I can understand where that idea comes from. To get your Pokémon trainer to appear as a doctor you need to select ‘boy’ when the professor asks you what gender you are. Girls get the nurse. But for me, it’s enough to study what I love without being shot because of my genitals. It’s even better to know that girl med students outnumber the guys but nobody really cares. That’s just how it is. We have a long way to go, but honestly, we have it good.

Michelle Bagster thinks that life is too short to waste time unnecessarily. So when the toothbrush buzzes, stop brushing.

ALL THE JILTED LADIES ALICE BITMEAD PUTS HER HANDS UP

When I thought about writing for Elle Dit on a pressing issue, ‘relationships’ weren’t the first thing to spring to mind. I don’t know if it’s my hard-line ideas about female independence, or my increasingly (and worryingly) Judith Lucy-esque lifestyle choices, but I’m usually the one sitting at the pub with a glass in each hand, booming out how I’m ‘strong an’ independent,’ thus ‘not needing no man’. I always thought that being so strong and independent meant staring down adversity with a cutting quip – hiding your shameful predisposition to care about some tosser who wronged you because, like paper cuts, it was a bit weak to show that it hurt. So that’s what I did whenever I became a woman spurned: sat on my barstool throne, gleefully highlighting his character flaws and how I needed him in my life about as much as Fabio needs hair plugs. I would loudly declare myself immune to any pangs of rejection because ‘MEN! Who needs them!’ and slur something else about bolstering the sisterhood. But when this rejection occurred, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pretend that I wasn’t hurt by the whole affair. I felt weak: somehow I’d let down my sisterhood by allowing a man to make me feel like having a bit of a cry during At The Movies. In fairness, the way it happened was pretty bad. Possibly the worst so far. I’d been seeing this gentleman (I had really surpassed myself in the hipster cred department with this one – he’s pretty obscure, you probably haven’t heard of him) and things were going well. His propensity for flattering drunken text messages and big romantic gestures was making me giddier than a schoolgirl. And then, out of the blue, he broke it off.

I won’t lie, readers, I was cut up by this unexpected turn of events. The transition from midnight seabathing to an ‘I’m just not ready for commitment’ spiel worthy of a Dawson’s Creek series finale was faster than those clipboard-toting environmentalists trying to approach you on North Terrace. So I succumbed to what I thought to be the most shameful thing a woman scorned can do. With the help of a dear friend and fellow single lady, I cracked open a tub of bottom-dollar, triple-chocolate ice cream and several bottles of the cheapest white wine money can buy, and soothed my wounds with some very loud Taylor Swift and Beyoncé. After all, if you can’t get drunk and soliloquise on the emotional truths of I Knew You Were Trouble in situations like these, when in the hell can you? In between the wine and off-key chanting, though, we came to a pretty stunning realisation. It was okay. It was okay for strong, independent women to get hurt, because there is nothing wrong with caring. There is nothing weak or shameful about being hurt because you did care about someone, even if they turned out to be a twat. Feminism isn’t about not needing a man – it’s about having the choice to decide whether or not you DO want one. It’s about having the choice to care about someone because A FEMINIST IS ALLOWED TO WANT TO FIND LOVE. I’m pretty proud that I can put together an IKEA shelving unit with nothing but an Allen key and their cryptic pictorial instructions, but I also want the option of bringing a plus-one that isn’t obviously gay to my next family event. So, fellow jilted ones, let’s start caring about ourselves a little more. Indulge in some Adele – heck, crack out the Pride and Prejudice BBC box set. It’s not reaffirming the patriarchy to want to wake up next to someone instead of Barbecue Shapes crumbs and the fourth Harry Potter film. Go on, have a bit of a cry. You’ve earned it.

In public. Through the medium of song. AT A SPOKEN WORD NIGHT. What the actual fuck? Who even knew things like that existed?! If I thought he was going to compose a song in my honour, it wouldn’t be to end it with me in a room full of friends and acquaintances who had just listened to a poem about vegetarianism. Awkward.

Alice Bitmead likes being snide and royal wedding crockery. If she could combine these interests into a range of jerky commemorative mugs, she would.

A SPACE OF HER OWN

ART: MOLLY AYERS-LAWLER

The glorification of women’s spaces isn’t about glorification of excluding men. It isn’t about thinking women’s spaces are in any way better than those with men.

A lot of these spaces have a huge personal value. The Girl Guides troop or gymnastics class can take on a meaning out of proportion to what society would normally accord it. So can that women’s gym you love going to, or the sister you love spending time with.

Culturally speaking, we allow far more time for things that concern exclusively men than those that concern women alone. Films, novels, musicians; anything that caters to girls or women receives more flack and less positive (or even neutral) reporting in our media. So whether accidental, contextual or specifically defined, women’s spaces are hugely important.

Sometimes, the value is just the joy of not having to deal with the male gaze; taking satisfaction from your appearance – from your body – in a way that doesn’t concern anyone but you. Perhaps it’s the possibility of doing feminine things, without having to deal with the connotations of ‘performing’ feminism. Perhaps it’s the possibility of not doing feminine things – or even, the possibility of not having to think about gender at all while you do things.

Women’s spaces aren’t always positive. We’re not afraid to talk about the complexities of the issues here. But we believe these places, relationships and groups of people are worth talking about. We also believe that, more than anything, it’s the good parts of the story of women’s spaces that don’t get enough attention: the relaxation, the affirmation, the solidarity.

We asked six women to write about their favourite women’s spaces. When we commissioned these pieces, we did it with a specific goal in mind. What we’re doing here is creating space. Yes, creating space to talk about spaces. No, we don’t study philosophy.

So why then are we talking about women’s spaces here?

Who knows? The point of this series is that without talking about these spaces, we don’t know what they mean to other women.

- STELLA

THE ALL GIRLS SCHOOL EMMA JONES When I was at high school, the only part about my all girls education that I paid any attention to was the part where I sprouted hormones and didn’t have any boys to exhaust them on. My high school years were an era of boy bands who were too cool for alphabetic characters like 5ive and N*Sync, flared jeans and surf brands and the dawn of reality television. It was not a culture that bred individuality and in those small classrooms the concept of ‘teenage girl’ was, well, limited. I won’t over-romanticise it. I didn’t much like high school. Mostly, the girls in our year level weren’t kind to each other, and in mutual attempts to assert our own self-esteem we’d bait and taunt and ridicule our friends and enemies alike (but I think that’s just teenage girls). The thing I really identified as different once I started university and entered a space that took gender into account was that suddenly, being a girl mattered. I became, or felt that I became, an object of a gaze that hadn’t existed in my life before. It wasn’t just that there were guys around, although that felt weird and also smelled weird (what is Lynx? Does it smell good to teenage girls?). Even the girls were acting different. In the presence of guys they – we – performed femininity and performed self more assertively, more dramatically, and without even realising it. It wasn’t in a sexual way. It was just as though the presence of that gender divide made us more selfaware. Old mate John Berger has it right when he says that men look at women, and women watch themselves being looked at. We looked at ourselves and each other differently under that external gaze. That gaze didn’t exist at high school. I grew up free of having to perform anything, except liking 5ive. They sucked. I was an N*Sync girl through and through.

19 THE LINGERIE DEPARTMENT GENEVIEVE NOVAK As a woman, I get some stuff. I get monthly reminders that I have ovaries, I get first dibs on a lifeboat on the Titanic, I get Andrew Garfield’s appeal, and yes, oh yes, I get to feel like a secret sex goddess because today I am buying underwear ft. bows. Buying new underwear is the best. There is so much choice, and everything is so beautiful, and if I buy this set I will definitely get laid tonig-IS THAT A BOY? RUN. It’s difficult enough trying to find the magic bra that will immediately turn me into Miranda Kerr’s body double without an unnecessary penis in the room. Look, guy: you might benefit from the purchases made here, but it doesn’t exist for you. Maybe you’re a fifty-something with hairy ears and a creepy leer. Maybe you’re so attractive that I’m panting over here. Maybe you and your girlfriend think you’re being naughty and you’re picking out something together and you aren’t here to ogle me. I really don’t care, bruv. This is my space, and I don’t need to make eye contact with you while you fondle that thong. Whether you want to put it in me or not, you are making me uncomfortable. Boobies are awesome and dressing them up is great. But (unless it’s windy and I’m in a skirt) I choose who sees the colour of my underwear. The only time I want someone thinking about my unmentionables is when we’re about to do unmentionable things. The men’s department is thataway.

THE BATHROOM MICHELLE BAGSTER There seems to be a Hollywood rumour floating around that girls’ toilets are clean, and smell nice, and have little sofas and magazine racks so you can put your feet up and chat for a while before you do your business.

I hate it how Hollywood lies. Girls’ bathrooms are gross. While I’m at it, lingerie pillow fights never happen at sleepovers. And you’re right; there is no point in living any more. I’m not trying to compete here. I’m not saying that girls’ toilets are worse than boys’, by any means. I’m just saying if you want to go to a bathroom where there are no spit balls on the ceiling, no unidentified liquid on the floor and no graffiti on the wall saying ‘I deny the Holocaust…’ well, you should probably hold it until you get home. That said, these sad little rooms are still a massive part of any woman’s life, and are one of the few places that are truly girls-only (for the most part). And they will always be there for a girl in need. Whether she wants to try and frantically wash out a coffee stain before it sets, stand awkwardly under a blow-dryer because she got caught in the rain, rinse her cutlery because she found it in the bottom of her bag and doesn’t trust it anymore, or even just go to the toilet, the girls’ bathroom is there for her. They are still gross, though.

THE KITCHEN CARLA BRUINSMA During the Christmas holidays, my family and I travelled to the other side of the world. We went to a small Canadian country town to meet a side of our family who were essentially strangers. On the first night I found myself in a kitchen that was riddled with women. Aunties were cooking pasta on the stove, cousins were vegetable chopping on the table and the young girls were playing with glitter pens on the floor. Conversations flew from God to the local schools to their husbands and back to God. Sitting there, trying to be helpful, I didn’t really have much to contribute to the conversation. While I was vaguely wondering where all the men were, I was asked ‘What do you want to do now you’ve finished high school?’ I said the truth: travel around the world and study literature. In return, I received forced smiles and a response of ‘Why do you want to do that? Aren’t you going to raise a family?’ A young girl looked up from her drawing of reindeers and said ‘When I grow up I want to get married and have ten kids. It’s what God wants!’ I looked back at these women and I felt like I was on a different planet. I realised that these adults had never left their hometown. They’ve never been to university and rarely leave their comfort zone. It’s all they know, and they couldn’t be happier. It was a pretty confronting situation, and one I certainly wasn’t used to. It’s a huge contrast. In Adelaide, when talking to female relatives about my goals, they’re always so proud and encouraging. At age six, my Australian cousin wants to be a Barbie astronaut, not a Barbie housewife.

THE GYM NICOLA DOWLAND My female-only gym is a kind of haven. It offers a peaceful reprieve from the stress and monotony of everyday life. This is my experience, though friends who attend mixed gender gyms have told me different stories. They are deterred by weights, because there is invariably a loud body builder grunting on the next machine over. They recall screaming personal trainers and self-conscious moments around the opposite sex. Fitness becomes a contest for many. ‘Watch as I become the next Adonis!’ But not at my gym. Women of different ethnicities, ages and body types attend for the same reason: better health for body and spirit. Don’t forget, exercise creates endorphins. I’m not hurried out the door after my workout and I look forward to my visits. I’ve hidden in the members’ lounge more than once while recovering from a fight with my boyfriend or a disappointing grade. At my gym, there is no reason to feel self conscious. Whether you enter in heels and perfect make up or sneakers and an old T-shirt, you’ll sweat the same amount in kickboxing class. Fellow members and staff don’t judge you. All that matters is the task at hand. The staff welcome you like an old friend. The yoga classes include ten minutes of meditation, to calm you before reentering the outside world. This is a safe environment, nurtured by caretakers who play uplifting music, keep chai tea and muffins in the kitchen and burn candles in the change room. It’s my favourite women’s space.

21 THE FAMILY HOME SOPHIE BYRNE Having a sister is the best women’s only space ever. Not to diminish the experiences of those with brothers, but the joys of growing up with an inbuilt best friend, who also happens to be the perfect person to whom you can complain about period pain, are manifold. I’m four years older than my little sister, but we’ve always been incredibly close. Our days as young’uns were spent playing imaginary games for hours and hours. Maybe it’s idealistic but I feel like the fact that we were both girls meant we had no choice but to buck gender norms. There was none of this ‘I’m the boy so that means I get to be the Prince and fight the dragon and you have to be the Princess stuck in the tower who sits there for 45 minutes while I elaborately stab this tree (‘dragon’)’ nonsense some of my friends with brothers had to put up with. My sister and I could be whoever we wanted. It was bliss! Boys were either not there at all or relegated to imaginary characters that we rescued. One of my personal favourites was pretending we had just gotten our letters from Hogwarts but our best friend, Oliver Wood, didn’t get a letter because of a dastardly plan by Draco Malfoy to keep him away from Quidditch. Obviously, we couldn’t abide by that and went on a perilous journey to help Oliver. No archaic gender stereotypes there! And of course, as we grew older and starting dealing with actual real life Draco Malfoys, my women’s only space with my sister, snuggling in bed with tea, Haighs’ and 10 Things I Hate About You, was (and is still) the best comfort I could wish for.

ART: OLIVIA DI FABIO

GETTING COMFY WORDS: BEC MCEWEN ART: CHLOE CASTLE ‘Women are not at home. They’re in the door but I don’t think they’re settling in comfortably to the armchairs yet.’ - Professor Christine Beasley, co-director of the Fay Gale centre and Professor of politics, on women in academia Though women are now enrolled in tertiary education in greater numbers than ever before, a close look at the staffing arrangements in Australia’s universities seems to support Professor Beasley’s view. Female academics struggle to attain leadership roles and professorships. They are vastly underrepresented in many of the most prestigious disciplines. Furthermore, from

2000 to 2012, the percentage of women in academic positions at Group of Eight universities actually decreased. These observations cast doubt upon the assumption, held by many women, that academia is a flexible and progressively meritocratic alternative to the private sector. Is academia a false refuge? Criticism of our dear University of Adelaide is depressingly easy. The University had auspicious beginnings as the first Australian university to allow women to participate in academic life. The University’s progressive zeal has, however, so ebbed such that

Adelaide is no longer considered an Employer of Choice for Women. Moreover, the upper echelons of university leadership continue to be dominated by men: according to Australian government statistics, the University of Adelaide had 308 men and only 80 women in positions above senior lecturer. Adelaide’s lacklustre performance is mirrored on a national scale. Though women account for over half of all academic staff across Australia, they comprise only 42 per cent of staff above the position of senior lecturer, and only 27 per cent of professors. And the situation is even worse than the

statistics disclose, as women tend to be present in larger numbers in less prestigious programs at less prestigious universities.

It seems there is much to be done to achieve gender equality in the academic world. But why does this gender disparity exist in the first place? It would be a mistake to think this question has one simple answer. The challenges faced by women change according to the faculty, the discipline and the university. Women in the humanities may struggle to have their disciplines taken seriously, while women in the sciences may have to fight to be treated as equal to their male peers. Another barrier is one that is faced by almost all women, whether they work in the academic world or the private sector. The reality of modern Australia is that domestic duties continue to fall heavily on women – not just housework or childcare, but the ‘keeping goings’ of family life. Like all highly skilled occupations, the academy asks much of its

members. The unrelenting work of the academic – the grind of publishing, the international travel, the administrative and committee work – is best suited to people without family responsibilities. Other barriers are unique products of the academic workplace. Professor Beasley describes the work of the academic as being work that is ‘all the time’ work. ‘It never really stops,’ she says, ‘You’re never quite finished. You can always do more.’ While the academic lifestyle may allow women space for children or family responsibilities, Professor Beasley notes the disciplinary side of academia which prevents academics from ‘clocking off’ at the end of the day. The incessant work of an academic can be very difficult for women with responsibilities outside of their teaching and research obligations. Is academia a flexible alternative to the private sector for women? ‘Flexibility’ is a word which

conceals a multitude of sins. Although the academic lifestyle may allow more latitude for assuming family responsibilities, there remains a perception that women who work part time or take time off are not ‘serious’ academics. Professor Beasley observes that ‘If you can’t work seven million hours a day, if you don’t have that leeway because you have other responsibilities in your life, then you tend not to be seen as a serious player, just as you wouldn’t be seen as a serious player in the private sector.’ She also ties the idea of flexibility to an issue faced by both men and women – the fact that academic careers often begin with low-paid, casual work that doesn’t necessarily lead to a ‘real job’. She describes the increased phenomenon of capable people ‘wandering around each department for years and years hoping that something will happen’. Although this is bad for both men and women, this period of uncertainty often corresponds with the time women may want to have children. If young women do

THE UNRELENTING WORK IS SUITED TO PEOPLE WITHOUT FAMILY RESPONSIBILITIES want to have children, a vulnerable work situation can be particularly problematic. Not only is it difficult for women to have a child, but having a child may hamper their chances of securing a more permanent academic position. Gabrielle Appleby, a senior lecturer in law, is much more positive about academia as a career path for women. ‘I think what academia offers is flexibility of workplace. You can work in the evenings, you can work on weekends, so it allows you to meet your family obligations when you need to meet them,’ explains Appleby. The flexibility of academia has the capacity to have real benefits for women. However, it would seem that institutional change is necessary for ‘flexibility’ to stop being as much a curse (the pressure to work constantly) as a blessing for many women in academic positions. The failure of the academy to respond to problems for women manifests in many different areas. For example, women who marry and change their name risk losing citations associated with their maiden name; this can have a significant impact on their academic reputation. Initiatives such as affirmative action policies, while well-meaning and often valuable, cannot truly assist women unless they are underpinned by change in

university culture. Academia offers a freedom and autonomy rarely permitted in the private sector. ‘If you get up in the morning and you’re excited to learn more then it’s a good job,’ remarks Appleby. Professor Rosemary Owens, former Dean of the Adelaide Law School, describes the ‘extraordinary independence and freedom in what it is that you research.’ Professor Beasley adds that it is ‘a wonderful thing to be in a workplace where you have to think about things.’ The only caveat, it seems, is that in universities focused on grants and rankings, this autonomy can be constrained significantly in particular disciplines. Women have traditionally been perceived as having a role in education. Unsurprisingly, there is evidence that women tend to shoulder more of the teaching load than their male counterparts. Two of the senior academic staff I interviewed indicated that they also felt women took on a pastoral care role with their students which was not commonly assumed by men. Unfortunately for women, however, the modern researchfocused university often leaves exceptional teachers unrecognised and unrewarded. To paraphrase Professor Owens, when women find themselves with

conflicting obligations to their teaching, their research and their family it is their research, and therefore their career prospects, which tend to get crunched. This devaluation of the teacher is by no means a new problem. Feminist academic Hazel Rowley caused a furore in 1996 when she wrote, upon her resignation from Deakin University: Almost everything I used to respect about universities has been dismantled in the past few years. With unnerving rapidity. The excellent teacher commands no respect in the academy at all. Ironically, this is at a time when we are keener than ever to attract ‘clients’ to our smartly marketed job-specific courses. Professor Beasley provides some advice for young women commencing an academic career. ‘Without wanting to downgrade the meaningfulness of education as a part of what an academic does,’ she says, ‘If you want to get on, probably I would focus on research more than teaching…and I would very much be incredibly strategic about the research I did.’ It would seem then, that while there is something to be said for the academy, there remains much to be done. Until the culture and expectations within universities change, there will remain barriers in the path of gender quality. Universities were one of the first places to accept that women might be interesting and intelligent. They are taking longer, it appears, to come round to the idea that women are as interesting and intelligent as men. In between skulking in libraries, experimenting in kitchens, coffee-snobbing and planning her next global gallivant, Bec McEwen fights the good fight for women on campus.

A PRIZE IS A PRIZE IS A PRIZE? March is a good month for women and books. At a local level, Writers’ Week just finished at the Adelaide Festival, which is directed and coordinated solely by women. On a larger scale, the longlists for both the Women’s Prize for Fiction (formally the Orange Prize for Fiction) and the Australian only Stella Prize have both been announced. The Women’s Prize for Fiction is a British-based award, for the winner is given £30 000 (around $43 600 AUD), while the Stella winner receives $50 0001. Both awards are not without controversy upon examination through a gender politics lens. Critics ask why there is a need for a literary prize solely for women at all. Unsurprisingly, many men find it offensive and ‘sexist’ that such awards exist. Author Tim Lott described the prize as ‘a sexist contrick’ that ‘should be shunned.’ Sports journalist and self described ‘betting guru’ Dereck McGovern declared, ‘The Orange Prize for 1 For a fantastic insight into the history of the Stella prize, read Georgie Lawrence-Doyle’s article from Elle Dit (Edition 8) last year.

Fiction has always annoyed me because it is open only to women – surely it should be called the Chocolate Orange Prize. I have to say I’ve never rated women novelists.’ Thanks for the shout out to Chocolate Oranges, Dereck. They sure are delicious! I like how you get to smack them on something hard first so you can easily eat the little segments. I would like to do that on your thick head, you nincompoop. To be fair, women have also criticized the prize, including one of my personal heroes A. S. Byatt, author of the unbelievably wonderful, Booker Prize winning Possession. She wrote late last year of the prize, ‘Women should be allowed to have everything men have, but

27 WORDS: SOPHIE BYRNE ART: MADELEINE KARUTZ they shouldn’t be allowed to have their own little sheep pens.’ So, herded into a sheep pen or given A Room of One’s Own? What is really best for women writers? And without these awards would women still gain public recognition in the long run for their work? At the end of last year, the ABC’s First Tuesday Book Club with Jennifer Byrne ran a nation wide poll of viewers to decide the top 50 Australian Books you have to read before you die. Tim Winton’s Cloudstreet was voted number one, probably not a huge shock. What was interesting is that of the top 50, only 14 books are by female authors. However, in the top ten, only three books were written by women (The

Harp in the South by Ruth Park, The Secret River by Kate Grenville and Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay).

by male authors and men are more often appointed to judging panels for literary prizes such as the Booker and Pulitzer.

Clearly, women write some good stuff, and clearly it has stayed popular and ingrained in some sort of national psyche without any sort of Australian ladies-only prize.

This disparity is then also reflected in national lists where books written by women are still firmly in the minority.

But it can’t be ignored that the ratio of women to men being published is 60:40 and the biggest demographic buying books are women over 45, yet traditional literary awards are still dominated

Evidently, the founders of both the Women’s Prize for Fiction and the Stella prize have decided that, for women who seemed to be systematically denied those opportunities, the value and impact of being longlisted, shortlisted and winning a literary prize was so great that there needed to be a platform for their stories. There are literary prizes for Australian writers under 35, for regional writers, for imprisoned writers, for teenage writers, for writers of colour and for science

fiction writers, so why shouldn’t there be a prize for women? Of course it is true that the act of writing can transcend gender, as Cynthia Ozick (shortlisted for the 2012 Orange Prize) wrote in the New York Times – ‘I am, as a writer, whatever I wish to become. I can think myself into a male, or a female, or a stone, or a raindrop, or a block of wood, or the leg of a mosquito.’ She argues that a prize for female-ness alone could, like A. S. Byatt contends, revert to an old ‘anatomy is destiny’ frame of mind. Yet her conclusion, one that I wholeheartedly agree with, is that ‘since a writer is a writer is a writer, it may also be true, for the sake of literature itself, that a prize is a prize is a prize.’ In that way, the more prizes there are celebrating great books and giving them the exposure they deserve, the more people will read, the more writers’ of all backgrounds will feel recognized, and the more stories will be told. Sophie Byrne thinks that reading is a waste of time and doesn’t agree with fridge magnets.

HERE ARE SOME AUSTRALIAN LADIES SOPHIE BYRNE THINKS THAT YOU SHOULD READ. RUTH PARK – THE HARP IN THE SOUTH

This is a beautiful, funny, heartbreaking story about a family living in Surry Hills, the ‘slums’ of Sydney. It focuses on the Darcy family, but the entire community of Surry Hills is described in a real, painfully honest way. Drunks and prostitutes and child abuse and poverty are never hidden away, and when it was published it caused an absolute outrage.

It’s been described it as a ‘wallow in depravity, filth and crime.’ Despite all the misery and struggles, this isn’t a book about pitying anyone: the Darcy family isn’t perfect, but they are real. Just read it – I need to stop gushing!

HELEN GARNER – THE FIRST STONE: SOME QUESTIONS ABOUT SEX AND POWER

If there’s a book about feminism in Australia that you should read, it’s this one. It’s a non-fiction investigation into the allegations by two female students at the University of Melbourne that the Master of their residential college had sexually harassed them. Completely controversial (she was resoundingly trashed by many feminists at the time) It leaves you questioning your own understanding of feminism and challenges you in that properly stimulating way.

MILES FRANKLIN – MY BRILLIANT CAREER

Stella Maria Sarah Miles Franklin is a really amazing name, but Stella didn’t get as much credit for writing this as ‘Miles’ did. Being a fiercely independent woman in the early 1890s in New South Wales was neither easy nor rewarding, and protagonist Sybylla Melvyn (again, awesome name) is hindered further by an alcoholic father, family debt and a demanding job as a housekeeper.

The fact that it was written when Stella Maria Sarah Miles Franklin was a teenager makes it even more badass for girls today.

MARGO LANAGAN – SEA HEARTS

Speculative fiction is so hot right now, and Margo Lanagan is a practiced fantasy writer whose most recent book ticked a whole lot of boxes for me (witches, love, seals). A sea witch on a remote island discovers that she can make a woman from the heart of a seal; not just any woman, an enchanting sea bride. Realising that the men of the island would pay to have such a wife, Misskaella the sea witch unleashes potentially heartbreaking consequences on the people of the island. Sounds crazy? It is!

DYLAN COLEMAN – MAZIN GRACE

Dylan Coleman graduated from the University of Adelaide with a creative writing degree, and now teaches Indigenous Health here. Her book is a fictionalized account of her mother’s childhood, growing up on Koonibba Lutheran Mission in the 1940s and 50s. It is written in an incredibly powerful language, with mixtures of Aboriginal English and traditional Kokatha language used throughout the book to create a truly engrossing and meaningful story. Intense. In a good way.

WOMEN IN ISLAM: POWERLESS? 30A

There is a cartoon making the rounds on the internet. Two women are passing each other on the street, one wearing a polkadot bikini and trendy sunglasses, the other covered head to toe in the tradition black burqa. The bikini-clad woman says, ’Everything covered but her eyes, what a cruel male-dominated culture!’ The burqaclad woman says ‘Nothing covered but her eyes, what a cruel male-dominated culture!’

WORDS: YASMIN MARTIN ART: ARIANE JACCARINI These burqa-clad women are a mystery to the Western world. Aren’t they boiling, the poor things? Oppressed and hot – is there anything worse? What lies beneath those masses of thick black fabric? We know there’s a woman in there somewhere, but who is she? And how can we save her? Another, lesser-known cartoon: a young woman in hijab tries to run away as a tall blonde woman rips off her headscarf. The blonde women yells ‘Where are you going? I’M GOING TO FREE YOU!’ The universal image of the Muslim woman is of a woman without power or choice. She is a downtrodden woman with no agency, ruled by her father or husband and oppressive religion. Western feminists have long viewed these women with sympathy and regret, and a touch of gratitude that they were born into a secular, more developed culture. But this image of the Muslim woman is predicated on the image of Western women as worldly and liberated. Just as not all Western women are irreligious and in control of their own lives, not all Muslim

women are without freedom and power of action. It has been long argued by atheist and secular feminists that feminism and religion, in particular Islam, are incompatible, and that the emancipation of women is only achievable by challenging religious influence in society. Do you know what happens when you try to force Western feminism on deeply religious societies? You disenfranchise the vast majority of Muslim women, and you get nowhere. You become yet another patronising Westerner assuming a position of superiority over Muslim women. Secular feminism does not have the monopoly on freedom and liberty. There is no denying that there are Muslim women suffering from

sexism and misogyny every day. There are women living with gross human rights abuses in the name of Islam all over the world, and only the cruellest of people could turn a blind eye to this injustice. But how do we help without shoving our values down their throats? Here’s a revolutionary idea: ask some Muslim women. Instead of attempting to apply secular feminism like a bandaid, we should try to reinterpret feminism in an Islamic context. This is an unimaginable task for those that see Islam as an inherently oppressive religion. This is the prevailing ignorance that Islamic feminists have been fighting for decades. The majority of non-Muslims are acquainted with Islam purely from a Western media

SECULAR FEMINISM DOES NOT HAVE THE MONOPOLY ON FREEDOM AND LIBERTY

32 perspective. What we know of it is what we see happening in countries like Saudi Arabia and Pakistan. But is Islam inherently oppressive of women? Is the dominance of males enshrined in the Qur’an? The answer is, put simply, no. Muslim women have been fighting for women’s rights since the dawn of Islam, but their successes have been largely ignored. Islamic feminists like Amina Wadud and Laleh Bakhtiar argue that Islam is not the root of discrimination against women, but instead point to the elites and heads of state that manipulate Islam for political gain. The trick is in the interpretation of the Qur’an and Hadith (sayings of the Prophet Muhammad). ‘By going back to primary sources and interpreting them afresh, women scholars are endeavouring to remove the fetters imposed by centuries of patriarchal interpretation and practice,’ says Wadud. The common argument against women’s emancipation in Islam is that misogyny is written into the Qur’an, and so Islam is inherently misogynistic. For example, take the commonly accepted translation of Surah 4:34 of the Qur’an, the verse that is often used by fundamentalist Muslims to justify domestic violence: So righteous women are devoutly obedient, guarding in [the husband’s] absence what Allah

IT’S TIME TO ERASE EVERYTHING WE THINK WE KNOW ABOUT ISLAM would have them guard. But those [wives] from whom you fear arrogance - [first] advise them; [then if they persist], forsake them in bed; and [finally], strike them. But if they obey you [once more], seek no means against them. Indeed, Allah is ever Exalted and Grand.1 Islamic feminist, Laleh Bakhtiar, disputes this translation. The word for ‘beat’ in Classical Arabic is also the same word for ‘go away’, which changes the meaning of the verse dramatically. Here is Bakhtiar’s translation of the same passage from her book The Sublime Quran: So the ones who are in accord with morality are the ones who are morally obligated, the ones who guard the unseen of what God has kept safe. But those whose resistance you fear, then admonish them and abandon them in their sleeping place, then go away from them; and if they obey you, surely look not for any way against them; truly God is Lofty, Great. Suddenly Islam looks a little less medieval. 1 As translated by quran.com

In fact, in many ways seventh century Islamic societies were far superior to their Western counterparts in terms of women’s rights. Muslim women gained inheritance rights, property ownership, and rights to divorce centuries before women in Western societies. When British colonialists dissolved Syariah law in the colonies and applied British law, Muslim women were stripped of the properties and inheritance that Islamic law had always granted them. It’s no wonder Muslim women feel a little disenfranchised by the West. It’s time we stop asking Muslim women to give up their commitment to Islam. It’s time to erase everything we think we know about Islam, and it’s time to re-learn. We need to make friends with our sisters in Islam and open our eyes. And most importantly, it’s time to listen. Yasmin Martin writes from the comfort of her couch. In her spare time she studies Media, eats cheese, and reps as the SRC Ethno-Cultural Officer.

BY REBECCA SHEEDY

PERSISTENCE WORDS: AIMÉE THOMSON ART: DAISY FREEBURN ‘You’re not going to die. You’re not going to die. You’re not going to die!’ This is the statement that has become my constant companion. Much like the yoga-loving, clean eating health nuts like to take on positive affirmations to help them breeze through life, I find myself chanting the sentence above several times a day, never able to believe its meaning. I have an anxiety disorder and depression, which hang over me, turning me into a heavy black cloud. Occasionally, I’ll rain, and feel a bit lighter for a while, but on the whole, that’s a rarity. For

the majority of the time, I find myself struggling for breath at the mere thought of being in a crowd, standing on a balcony or walking over a bridge. Whilst I watch the rest of the population mosey about their daily lives, I live in constant turmoil, wondering what mood I’ll wake up in. Some may have heard of depression being referred to as a black dog. A dog that follows you everywhere you go, never leaving you alone. This is somewhat how I’ve felt for the past 9 years. Don’t get me wrong – there have been times of happiness, joy, and inspiration, but on the whole my little dog likes to trail behind me, like a toxic comfort blanket. Whilst the little black dog sleeps, outcomes another monster, who creates disorder wherever he goes. Only recently in my life have I had to come to terms with anxiety. We all feel anxious from time to time – trying to get work in on time, have a job interview, giving a talk, but this anxiety is different from any nerve-inducing state I’ve ever felt. When I’m anxious I feel like someone’s strangling me; cutting off my air supply. My

vision becomes blurry, I can’t concentrate or hear properly, and the only thing going around my mind is the search for the nearest exit. While one part of me chants ‘you’re not going to die’, the other yells ‘get out of here NOW’. To those psychology students, you could say my ‘flight or fight’ response is in overdrive. Everything becomes a threat. Luckily, anxiety doesn’t hang over me like depression does. It comes and goes in waves. Sometimes I’ll be anxious for hours, several times a day, or sometimes, when life is particularly rosy, I receive my little anxious present just once in a day. Unlike many others, I choose to go medication free. I have nothing against medication, but I feel that it is not the right option for me, and prefer to explore alternatives. I was given antidepressants at the age of eight, and now have a big block hole in my memory for the year I was on them. All I remember is feeling like I was in a foggy haze. Although my problems are hard to deal with by not taking medication, at least I feel like I am alive. I’ve explored many ‘holistic treatments’ in my time. First of all came the naturopath, who put me on supplements so expensive it’s a pity they weren’t made of

gold. Swiftly after that I perused kinesiology, a treatment where a trained individual waves her hands over you in different patterns, which apparently clears your intestines. That didn’t go so well, and before I knew it I was back to square one. For many months after that I just dealt. I was going in and out of deciding whether I should take medication or not, which would change depending on how sunny that day was. About a year ago now I was overcome with intense fatigue. Fatigue so intense that hours formed into days, and then into weeks. The only thing in my capability was rest. Walking to the end of the street was a tribulation, my absence at school became noticeable, and my eyes were glazed. I stopped living, stopped feeling. It was then that I reached out to a Bioresonance Therapist. Yet another holistic ‘healer’, this woman claimed she could heal me by testing the levels of pests, hormones and blood in my body through electromagnetic rays. Each week I would sit on a reclining chair with metal poles in my hands, and sometime at the back of my neck or on my stomach, while she typed numbers into a big, white box. As abstract as it was, I tried to believe it would help me.

As a result of either the crazilystrict diet she put me on (just in case I wasn’t already depressed enough, now I couldn’t eat dairy, gluten, pork or sugar) or her ambitious personality, I slowly started feeling more energy building up inside. I stopped seeing her, but instead of being disheartened like I had been previously when treatment didn’t magically cure me, I was determined. Within a few months I was back exercising, and generally felt good. My head was above water, my black dog dyed its hair grey, and the other monster went on holiday. I felt so good that I booked a two month holiday to England. Within that time though, school ended, and my days became empty and lonely. Each day was spent avoiding the world. My black dog was most definitely black again. I would constantly ask myself why I couldn’t be like other girls my age. Why I had to stay at home thinking about how horrible I felt, while others shopped, kissed boys and went to parties. Before long, England came around. For a while, everything was going alright. The cold air allowed me to open my lungs, and being away from home forced me to open myself up. The three days

surrounding Christmas were filled with total joy and relaxation, and is a time I hold very sacred. Upon coming home at the end of January, I was excited about what my new life held. For a while, things were pretty good. It was great to see my family again, and the warm weather was a welcome, but before long, I started to feel that gap inside of me again. The black dog was back, and stronger than ever. So where do I go from here? Is there an ending to my story? No. My story will keep re-writing itself for the rest of my life. I haven’t decided yet whether these moods are something I’m prepared to live with, or whether I have the strength in me to fight it. I’m just not sure it’d be a winning battle. Whatever happens, I will keep going. I am certainly not ready to retire from the world.

Aimée Thomson is an Arts student majoring in French and spends most of her time dreaming of croissants, Hermés scarves and a cure for procrastination.

KEEPING ABREAST WORDS: JESSICA SCOTT ART: OLIVIA DI FABIO ‘Hi, I’m returning to study after Maternity Leave, and I need to arrange a place to express breast milk. Where do I go? Who should I see?’ The staffer on the general information line was flummoxed. ‘Ooh. Well. I actually have no idea. I don’t think there’s anywhere. You should contact your supervisor. Maybe you can use the parents’ rooms at David Jones?’ I told her I’d try Disability Services. Breastfeeding is surprisingly difficult. It’s messy, it’s exhausting, and, in public, it’s often humiliating – but at least you have a human shield. When it comes to expressing breast milk, you are on your own. It’s just you, your grotesquely engorged breasts, and a complicated collection of electronics and plastic tubing. Every mother in my social network said she’d despised expressing, and none had lasted very long at it. But I was determined. I had hired a very expensive, industrial-grade breast pump, and I was going to feed my baby and finish my PhD. My supervisor was no help, but I

wasn’t perturbed. I was confident that my upcoming meeting with Counselling and Disability Services would sort everything out. I dragged the baby out to Horace Lamb and explained my situation. ‘Adelaide University really has no place for expressing,’ said the Disability officer. ‘It’s such a shame; UniSA has wonderful facilities. Your best bet is the Women’s Room. I’ll warn you though, it can get busy around lunchtime.’

Crushed by defeat, and utterly overwhelmed with shame, I caught the next bus, quietly sobbing all the way home. Later, I learned that this useless advice from Counselling and Disability Services was standard. Manager Colleen Lewig told me that the service was frequently contacted by breastfeeding women but that the necessary resource – private space – was simply nonexistent.

It sounded great – the Women’s Room! Of course! Problem solved! I gathered my things, strapped the baby back into his pram, and made my way to the Women’s Room.

‘Besides,’ she said, before informing me that she had raised the issue at the university’s latest Gender Equity and Diversity committee meeting, ‘this is really an issue of equity, not disability’.

It turned out to be down two sets of stairs, and thus completely inaccessible to someone with a pram. It’s amazing how worthless this made me feel.

And to answer the question that I’m sure you’re thinking, no, breastfeeding is not a disability, in the same way that the capacity to sweat or urinate is not a disability.

But I picked myself up. The next Monday, I arrived in the city, babyfree, fresh, and optimistic. Breast pump awkwardly in hand, I trotted across campus to the Women’s Room, and down the stairs. It was a pokey, dimly lit little room.

But when separation from the baby means engorgement – and its common complication, mastitis – breastfeeding certainly seems to cross over into ‘medical condition’ territory. Either way, Disability Services are not equipped to provide help.

But it was a godsend. Behind the dingy makeshift reading lounge, there it was – a partitioned-off space! With a desk! And a power point! No door! And a giant, ground-level, completely bare window! Oh. No privacy. No privacy whatsoever. Bile started rising in my throat.

My response to the Women’s Room incident was to update my Facebook with expletives. Friends were outraged, and colleagues were sympathetic: ‘It’s a shame that the university isn’t breastfeeding friendly accredited’ commented another PhD parent.

37 Yes, it’s shameful. And it’s astounding that Adelaide Uni has the cheek to advise other workplaces on ‘breastfeedingfriendly’ best practice1 whilst still forcing its own students to choose between their infants or their candidature. A friend who had recently enrolled at Adelaide, and who happened to be an ass-kicking feminist activist, marshalled the Women’s Officer and pounded the pavement, doorknocking indiscriminately. Eventually the two of them managed to charm an admin worker in the HumSS office, who emailed me that week to say that they had a room for me. I was thrilled – this was perfect! ‘We’ll get you a key to this room,’ she said, ‘but until then you can use our meeting room. Just check that nobody is there, but it’s usually free. You can lock the door.’ Fantastic! I could finally express, and therefore return to campus! So, I expressed. For the uninitiated, this is the procedure: Check and transport equipment; Lock the door, draw the blinds, clean the work surface; Assemble pumping equipment, and prepare storage containers; 1 McIntyre, Pisaniello, Gun, Sanders, Frith, 2002, ‘Balancing breastfeeding and paid employment: a project targeting employers, women and workplaces’. Health Promotion International, 2002, Vol.17(3), pp.215-222

Connect your breasts to the suction cups; Initiate and adjust pump, first to trigger let-down reflex, and then to suction milk from your breasts into the collection containers; Wait for your breasts to empty, readjusting pump settings as necessary; Disengage from the pumping equipment and seal the milk; Disassemble pump, and carefully bag all milkcontaminated pumping equipment; Clean work surface thoroughly, with antiseptic; Deposit milk containers into freezer; Scrub milk-contaminated pumping paraphernalia in warm sudsy water, rinse thoroughly, and then either air-dry or bag for later sterilization, as appropriate; Repack and store equipment. It can easily take an hour or more. Multiply that by the 3 or 4 times I did this every day that I was on campus, and that’s a lot of time away from my PhD. After a few weeks, it started to bother me that the blinds in the meeting room didn’t close properly, and that the table was always filthy. It bothered me that I routinely had to explain myself and usually use the word ‘breast’ to whoever happened to be behind the desk at

the office, and that I’d never heard anything more about the room with the key. It bothered me that I had to furtively wash my breast pump paraphernalia in the place where everyone else washed their coffee cups, and that I had to keep a box of Weis bars in the freezer in order to conceal the containers of breast milk. It bothered me that I had to lug an extremely cumbersome and expensive piece of machinery with me wherever I went. I was so tired. Every step of returning to uni had been a fight. My baby had reflux-driven colic and still woke to feed every two hours, and I was incredibly sleep deprived. So I gave up. I wrote a letter, filled a form, and took an additional six months of unpaid leave. And I’m back, and it’s like I never left, except that my data is now much older, my peers have all submitted, I have no leave left, and my finances are overstretched. But at least I’m here.

Jessica Scott is a sleep-deprived PhD Linguistics candidate and Lego enthusiast. Her baby was recently described by MacGuvyer as ‘fantastic’.

ELOPING TO CANADA

WORDS: GEMMA KILLEN PHOTOGRAPHY: ELISE ADAMS I never wanted to get married. I wanted to be a rock star and be rolling in awards by the time I was 30, but I wanted to skip the husband and kids, thanks. The idea of a big puffy dress appealed to me, because big puffy dresses always appeal to me, but white was never my thing. I like my symbolism a little less virginal and a little more rainbow, if you know what I mean. As it turns out, I can’t sing and I prefer romantic/sweaty encounters with people who are not men, so neither option was a go. Not in Australia, anyway. When Aimee walked into my garage and my life, I was in a

drunken heap on the floor, giggling and drawing pictures of panties to throw at a nearby musician. Worryingly, she seemed oblivious to my issues and moved into my spare room.

She is the best friend and housemate I’ve ever had and the government thinks we don’t understand what marriage is all about. We’re just wee gay babes, after all.

Then came the love. The glorious, side splitting, days in bed, vomit inducing love. We melodiously yelled the lyrics to Tegan and Sara songs while we cooked, held hands while we slept and laughed all the time. We pissed off our friends with our sickeningly public displays of affection – including, but not limited to, Facebook love notes.

So, on a funded exchange to the other side of the world, we got married. Fuck you Australian government, Canada thinks we’re cool.

We also had screaming matches over the functionality of our crappy oven, the aesthetic value of cushions and the increasing casualisation of the workforce, but I prefer to gloss over that part. A little conflict is always healthy.

I understand the trepidation. The exclusionary framework of heterosexual marriage has played a large part in shaping contemporary Australian society. It’s structured our wage system, for heaven’s sake. It has also been the setting for domestic violence and rape, allowing for the repression of women’s voices and the casting out of queer kids. *

We picked our marriage commissioner because her grey hair made her look sweet/not homophobic in her OKCelebrant profile picture. She told us she’d never seen anyone smile so much during the ceremony; Aims is bitter and thinks she says that to all the girls. I wore a fruitpatterned dress. We drank champagne and ate fairy bread on the beach while my bestie sang I Like Big Butts and then we went home and did a puzzle. I’m still waiting for civilisation to collapse. The more conservative among my friends want to know why I don’t wear a ring. The rest of my cohort wants to know why I got married in the first place. They want me to explain how this is really a political statement; to reassure them that I am an activist, not a wife.

I don’t know if I would have tied the knot if it were legal to do so in Australia. I may not have felt the need. Maybe I just like defying authority? As much as it is personal, my relationship will also always be political. Not being able to marry the girl I love because I’m a girl is like not being able to play with sticks because boys have traditionally used them as toy guns. My first reaction is along the lines of screw your gun-sticks; I don’t want to be in your club anyway.

power imbalance and gendered roles, or monogamy. If you let us back into the fold, what dangerous new ideas will we bring with us? Marriage was not something I had always sought. It came as a quiet proposition, a dare in a dark room, as sleep shifted into suggestion. There was no proposal, no ring. There was just her and I, thinking of ways to keep each other laughing.

But just because they imagined first, doesn’t mean they imagined right. Give me your stick and I will use it as a paintbrush and draw love in the dirt where you would have blood. We found new ways of coming together. Ways that don’t always involve financial dependence,

Gemma Killen is passionate about feminism and research – particularly feminist research – and generally thinks that women are pretty awesome. She also really likes cats.

40A

WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE? WORDS: EMMA JONES Disney. More like his-ney, am I right? The patriarchy is alive and well in the Happiest Place on Earth. The magic mirror of my childhood VCR showed me stories of young women, headstrong and passionate, plucked from obscurity by love and adventure and immediately giving up everything they once held dear for True Love’s Kiss and its inevitable Happily Ever After. The role models I looked to as a little girl were Belle, Jasmine and Ariel, who may have started out as wayward and stubborn

Picture: flickr.com/richcumbers

but always ended their stories in their rightful places: in a white wedding dress, gazing soppily into the eyes of their prince, having learnt a lesson or two about obedience and docility. Disney’s princesses were Victorian heroines full of virtue, always pure and always beautiful.

In her 1991 book The Beauty Myth, activist Naomi Wolf discusses popular culture’s treatment of the heroine, a mould that, despite constantly shifting, always holds in high regard one thing: beauty – from Lizzie Bennett to Katniss Everdeen to Beatrix Kiddo, they’re all easy on the eye. Wolf points out that with this influx of stories about lovely lookers, ‘a girl learns that stories happen to “beautiful” women’. Disney does not even attempt to break this rule. In the Disney universe, beauty is a prerequisite to a life of adventure and romance. The whole franchise of princesses is informed by a 1937 Snow White, and shows little girls a vision of themselves as young women whose agency ends with marriage. This strikes me as a problem. I fucking love Disney movies. Who doesn’t get a stab of nostalgia when the neon blue castle appears with that sci-fi noise before the film starts? Who doesn’t

Picture: flickr.com/smaku

know all the words to Under the Sea or I’ll Make A Man Out of You? Who doesn’t want to shamelessly enjoy the musical joyride of their childhood in HD Blu-Ray at the age of 25? To deal with the conflict between my taste in movies and my politics, I’ve brought six of my favourite princesses into our decade. Let’s see how they go. Snow White (a.k.a. It’s 1937 And Misogyny Is How We Do) Princess: Like her name, Snow White is pure and virtuous and not much else. Woodland creatures seem to follow her everywhere and also dress her. As it was: You know the drill: Snow White’s the fairest of them all, so her jealous stepmother tries to kill her by poisoning her with an apple. The apple just makes her comatose, though, until a prince with about as much personality as Snow White (read: none) smooches her back to life. I think that’s called mouth-to-mouth resuscitation these days.

Oh, and somewhere in the middle she cooks and cleans for seven pint sized diamond miners who only refrain from killing her because she’s beautiful. Rewritten: Rushing to drop her seven kids at school so she can get to the lab in time, Snow White accidentally hits a handsome cyclist with her minivan. In between juggling housekeeping, child-rearing and her dickwad husband, Snow White manages to discover a heretofore unknown property of apple seeds: they kick comas in the ass. While treating the charming cyclist, the two get it on, and Snow White kicks her husband to the curb. Looks like an apple a day really does keep the dickwads away. Aladdin (a.k.a. Robin Williams Just Blue Himself) Princess: Jasmine is not a prize to be won. She also has probably the best hair of all the princesses and a pet tiger. As it was: After turning down a string of douchey suitors, Jasmine

LOOKS LIKE AN APPLE A DAY REALLY DOES KEEP THE DICKWADS AWAY

decides arranged marriage is not for her and runs away to the Agrabah marketplace where Disney’s hottest hunk-a-spunk. Aladdin flashes his pecs at her through a tiny vest. He ends up unearthing a genie and using his three wishes to ensure a future with his royal babe. Rewritten: Jasmine’s dad runs multi-billion-dollar tech company Sultan Industries. Impressed by sly entrepreneur Jafar’s innovative Magic Carpet™ app, he tries to set up a lucrative date between Jafar and his daughter; after all, someone needs to take over the company when he retires. Jasmine, who is secretly planning to elope with Aladdin (lead singer of controversial punk band The Street Rats), reveals Jafar as a fraud and saves Sultan Industries with her revolutionary Genie Interface™, all the while bravely leading a harem pants revival. Beauty and the Beast (a.k.a. Stockholm Syndrome) Princess: Belle’s always got her nose in a book, but village beefcake Gaston would prefer her nose in his crotch. As it was: We’re off to a bad start with a Fabio-lookalike prince who’s so obsessed with being sexy that a moral compass/witch transforms him into a beast and his staff into anthropomorphic home furniture. When the beast, whose name is Beast, kidnaps Belle’s dad, she

trades her life for his own and moves As it was: Instead of disgracing into Disney’s creepiest castle. her family name by making a clumsy wife, Mulan steals her dad’s Eventually he gives her a library and a military kit and runs off to war ballgown and they fall in the kind of where she pretends to be a guy love that reverses spells and changes named Ping. the weather. Talk about bestiality. Honour is restored when she Rewritten: Halfway through a PhD defeats the Huns and stars in a thesis about the depiction of the rousing musical number. working class in fairy tales, Belle is more than a little pissed at the fact Rewritten: Fa Mulan (twitter that the wage gap between men and handle @Mushu) is publicly women is widening. disgraced when she’s arrested for posting politically incendiary When humanities budget cuts Tweets about wealth distribution force her to share a west wing office in the aftermath of the Beijing with a wealthy Rochester type, she 2008 Olympics. thinks her luck has run out, but Disney doesn’t work that way: she From prison she establishes an soon realises that beneath his hairy online rebellion called Crikeeexterior lies a cuddly, thoughtful leaks which aims to break down egalitarian/collector of rare books the Great Firewall of China, and and together they petition the falls in love with an anonymous closing of the wage gap. Want to user called Shang, who ends up sign it? Be our guest! being a woman.

don the poofiest wedding dress in existence.

Mulan (a.k.a. Twelfth Night)

As it was: Tiana works so hard for her dream that she forgets to do normal stuff like give a shit about the Prince who’s about to arrive in New Orleans. When the local voodoo practitioner turns him into a frog, he pledges his wealth to Tiana’s restaurant in exchange for a kiss. Pity that his kiss turns Tiana into a frog too, but don’t stress, it’s a Disney movie: they totally fall in love and sing a bunch of songs.

Princess: Mulan can’t pour tea, but with the help of a dragon and a lucky cricket she can sure kick some Hunny buns.

They live happily ever after at the forefront of the Chinese gay marriage movement. The Little Mermaid (a.k.a. You Can Totally Fall In Love Without Ever Talking To Each Other) Princess: Ariel is 16 and she has a killer set of pipes and a collection of human artefacts. And a tail.

As it was: Despite its reggae theme song, Ariel’s getting bored of life under the sea. After spotting hunky (human) Eric for five seconds, she decides to give up her voice for a pair of legs. Apparently she doesn’t need a voice though because, as Ursula the sea witch reminds her, she’s got her looks, her pretty face… and don’t forget the importance of body language. In the end it’s her voice that does the trick, but she still needs to be rescued by daddy and lover boy before she can Picture: flickr.com/cherokech-asteria/

Rewritten: Ariel’s dad is not too keen on her new boyfriend Eric, a social activist/pot dealer whose petitions put his job at a mining company in jeopardy. She’ll deal with that later, though: she’s too busy running a feminist/ animal rights Tumblr called fuckthepatriarchy.tumblr.com from her iPhone while actively protesting the presence of super trawlers in Australian waters. The Princess and the Frog (a.k.a. You Can Do Anything If You Work Two Jobs and Marry a Prince To Pay For It) Princess: Tiana makes a mean gumbo and dreams of opening a resplendent restaurant worthy of a Gatsby party.

Rewritten: As a young chef, Tiana is finding it difficult to establish herself as a restaurateur in an industry dominated by a boys’ club. Her silver-spoon boyfriend Naveen isn’t making things any easier with his needling about her settling down and raising kids. Rather than compromising on her dreams, she goes to her friend Charlotte for the money and tells Naveen that if he thinks she works too hard, he can croak. Emma Jones has a cat and most of an Arts degree.

LIFE ON THE FRINGE

44 WORDS: NICOLA DOWLAND PHOTOS: LEAH BEILHART Each year the Adelaide Fringe transforms our quiet, small town capital. The city opens its doors and residents open their wallets to a myriad of theatrical and musical pleasures. Usually asleep by 9pm on weeknights, during this brief and magical month we allow ourselves to be enticed by travelling troubadours, toast with champagne in boutique bars and socialise in a human circus after dark. But what about the artists who travel across land and sea to entertain us? What is their Fringe experience, what are their motivations? Intrigued by these questions, I interviewed several artists both local and foreign, performing at the Fringe and WOMADelaide. They give us a friendly, Bohemian welcome and offer insight into their world. What follows is a glimpse into that world. For local South Australian artists like Laura Hill, the Fringe can be an emotional ride. During her one night show at the Paradiso Spiegel Tent, Hill affectionately recalls the

times she spent busking alongside the dirt path of the Garden, her only bandmate an acoustic guitar. She is now working with The Tuesday Bandits and releasing a new album Blue Skies later this month. Hill reflects on her music career: ‘Playing with different musicians is definitely fun. You pick up on their energy on stage and it’s a wonderful feeling to hear different textures and rich sounds that you would normally just hear in your head. Playing solo is also really enjoyable too. There is a real art in raw simplicity.’ Hill’s excitement during the performance is palpable. She’s grateful and perhaps a little incredulous that so many people come to support her. ‘There [are] so many musical options as a punter to choose from,’ she tells me. She views her big performance as a chance to give back to her fans, offering them an early, ‘secret’ release of her new album. She stays to sign every copy. The Fringe gives local independent artists like Hill an opportunity to shine, to interact with fans and (with luck) further their career. Byron Bay locals Miss Renee Simone and Sasha Michalitsianos join the artistic hive in Adelaide

and gain new fans. In true Bohemian style, they rent a house with their bandmates and friends near town. Byron Bay hosts a lively musical community, whereas the Adelaide Fringe offers a more diverse selection of performances. Simone enjoys sampling these shows during her stay. She explores McLaren Vale and the coastline with her bandmates during the day and performs at night. After their shows, Simone and Michalitsianos attend the Fringe Club. Exclusive to the artistic community, whether performer or media. You never know who will be dancing beside you, who will be striking the beat. Simone confesses her career goal: to support herself through music, to travel with bandmates and family across the country and beyond, experiencing new cities, landscapes and cultures. ‘I’d love to have a number one hit, but that’s not my focus. The focus is to have a lifestyle that is sustainable, I don’t wanna get burned out,’ she says honestly. For international artists visiting Adelaide, the Fringe is not such a relaxed experience. Because they don’t know the area and are often strangers to the community, they spend most of their free time self promoting, trying to lure an audience. I talk with Patrick

Hercamp of American comedy trio Sound & Fury. The trio tours around the world with shows that fit into one suitcase and jokes that are universally relatable. Edinburgh hosts the largest theatre festival in the world, offering between two and three thousand shows each year. ‘If I flyer one hundred people on the street who talk with me… four people may show up,’ Hercamp recalls Edinburgh with a grimace. Ironically, the success of the Adelaide Fringe is a detriment to smaller shows. Finding an audience can be a scavenger hunt. Career performers like Sound & Fury perfect this routine over time. Despite the bumps along the road, they are dedicated to the troubadour life. For Hercamp, the highlight is meeting and talking with people from different cultures across the world. Regardless of medium and genre all the artists I interviewed agree on two points. Firstly, that festivals such as our beloved Fringe foster a community of performers. Many international

artists spend the majority of each year visiting international festivals, though they are not isolated from friends and family. Hercamp explains: ‘I run into the same performers all over the world. I’ll do a show in Canada and I’ll be sharing a theatre with my friend John Bennett… and then I go do Edinburgh and I’m at a bar and randomly he shows up. And now he’s at [The Cupola] in the Garden.’ Fame and fortune play only a small part in this community. Artists perform in the same cramped theatres regardless of celebrity or style. Simone smiles as she tells me that she was two doors down from B B King last year, at Blues Fest in Byron Bay. She once shared a dressing room with Bob Dylan. She remembers with a laugh: ‘I was like, well I’ve made it, I don’t care what happens from here on in’. For younger and aspiring artists the opportunity to perform alongside and socialise with their idols is priceless. Secondly, and perhaps more poignantly, is the respect and

affection that artists hold for their audience. Every star has a different way of ensuring their audience enjoys a quality performance, whether including a mixture of rehearsed and improvised material and creating a unique show every night, or interacting with and playing off the audience, sharing the energy in the room. Clairey Browne, lead singer of The Bangin’ Rackettes describes the timeless relationship between performer and audience: ‘It’s like dancing with a new lover, you’ve got to read it; it’s pretty sensual.’ The Fringe offers artists an escape, an experience or a lifestyle. For others, it’s the culmination of a long planned and emotional journey. All enjoy the thriving community in which they perform, and praise the audience who comes to watch.

Nicola Dowland is a book-loving BA student who believes there is a Harry Potter reference for every situation, you just need to find it.

DIVERSIONS

QUIZTION TIME 1. What time is Question Time held in Federal Parliament? 2. Where can transcripts of Question Time be found? (a) Hanyard (d) Shanhard (b) Hansard (e) Shandahar (c) Hanson (f) Tony Abbott’s Diary 3. True or False: Simon Crean has never answered a question in Question Time. 4. True or False: Christopher Pyne once asked former Prime Minister Kevin Rudd ‘How was your morning?’ during Question Time on a particularly slow news day. 5. How do you spell ‘Question Time’?

HOROSCOPES ARIES While on your monthly tampon scramble to the local IGA, you notice a flyer promising to earn you ‘$250 an hour for easy work!!1! Call Tina!!’ This could be your lucky week. TAURUS You will wake up next Thursday and decide that it is the day to smash down the patriarchy. Remember to double-knot your shoelaces. GEMINI A fit of rage over the Advertiser’s ‘Letters To The Editor’ segment will cause you to accidently overturn your bowl of breakfast cornflakes. Milk was a bad choice. CANCER That RSVP profile you set up after getting drunk watching Beauty and the Geek will be affected by a retrograde Venus: you found love in a hopeless place, so shine bright like a diamond. LEO An ironic cardigan you bought from Vinnies six months ago and never wore will yield gold coins and soiled tissues. It’s a bittersweet victory. VIRGO You conceive a genius short story idea centred on morality and a time-travelling gerbil and submit it to On Dit to unanimous approval.

BY CLARE VOYANT LIBRA You will find the meaning of life in the ripped vinyl seat of an Adelaide Metro bus. Please for the love of god don’t give it away. SCORPIO You will lie about being able to speak Norwegian during an argument at the Uni bar, but a good memory of the Swedish chef from The Muppets and a lot of spitting will save you. Well done. SAGITTARIUS Attempts to find an elusive reading will leave you stranded in the bowels of the Barr Smith. Remember to follow the light, and when in doubt, only eat the paperbacks. CAPRICORN After the heady highs of Mad March, you find yourself on a downward spiral of scotch fingers and Ready, Steady, Cook! Just remember to have an exit strategy. AQUARIUS You will be dared by a friend to eat all three long-time resident finger buns in The General. You will regret this decision for days to come. PISCES In a bid to have your bookshelf appear worldlier, you will answer a Gumtree ad for ‘two boxes of classic novels’. You will receive the complete set of The Babysitters’ Club.

LET’S GET DOTTY Connect the dots to make a picture. Embellish with markers, crayons and other decorations. Scan result. Email it to ondit@adelaide.edu.au with your age. We’ll give the best picture in each age group a lollipop and share them on social media.

TARGEDAWKU Find as many words as you can using the letters on the Sudoku grid. Words must be four letters or more and include the highlighted letter. Use the letters to solve the Sudoku, hence finding this edition’s Awkword (normal Sudoku rules apply). WHY THE AWKWORD GROSSES US OUT: Think of a hemorrhoid. Now think of it going septic. Enough said.

A H

P I L

A L

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SNACKS FOR THE BUSY 21 ST CENTURY WOMAN ELEANOR LUDINGTON WHIPS UP SOMETHING DELICIOUS PHOTOGRAPHY: ELEANOR LUDINGTON

It’s Tuesday evening. I’ve just finished a long day in hospital and have a big night of study ahead. I’ve also just came across a friendly email from the editors requesting a recipe. I won’t lie, my immediate thought was ‘Oh no, I don’t have the time to organise that!’ But then it hit me. I have the perfect recipe for a busy, 21st century woman such as myself! This recipe is fantastic; it makes a high energy, low fat, low sugar, super delicious snack. On top of that, it’s very quick to prepare and takes no time to pack for long uni days. Hopefully all of you busy bees will enjoy it just as much as I do! These store well in an airtight container in the fridge.

Eleanor Ludington studies medicine. More than anything she loves her dog, Trixie. She pretends to have ‘runner’ status, and enjoys baking chocolatechip biscuits in her spare time.

Raw Chocolate Truffles Makes approx 12 Ingredients: Approx. 1 cup pitted dates (add more if you find your mix is too dry) 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract Pinch of salt 2 tbsp cocoa powder, or to taste 2 tbsp shredded coconut 1/3 to 1/2 cup raw nuts Method: Place all ingredients in a food processor. Blend well. If your mix is dry and crumbly, you can add more dates, or you can try adding some water or non-dairy milk. Remove the mix from the processor and put in a clean plastic bag (e.g. a sandwich bag) and squish the mix into a clump using your hands. When mix forms one big, sticky ball, take approximately 1 tbsp chunks from it and roll into even sized balls. Eat and enjoy – yum!