unsuccessful IRL…

Cross Posted from my usual spot.

Keyboard warriors… people with nothing better to do… SJWs, unsuccessful IRL… not helping in the REAL world…

I quit one of my volunteer roles last week and cried hard about it. I will miss the people I work with, the fun we have, and the identity I held as a volunteer for that organisation. But one of the strangest reasons my volunteer work is important to me, is that as a feminist online the above phrases are used to undermine my comments. I am particularly sensitive to the idea of “simply bickering online” rather than getting out there and “really making a difference”. Frankly, it gets to me.

This is bizarre, because during the day I literally save lives, and since I was 16, I have always had a volunteer job as well as my paid role. I have no reason to feel vulnerable to any accusation of lack of action, and yet it gets to me.  Congrats Jerks.
In the future I may not always be well enough to do a paid job, let alone additional work on top of that. My wellness may deteriorate and I may be stuck at home, “just” online.

And to that I say THAT IS GOOD ENOUGH.

n fact, it’s not only good enough, the communication of equality, equity, fairness, and justice to your community is PIVOTAL. Without good marketing, the best brands fail, and we need a good comms team for the decency of humanity. The other side may not have particularly good communication, but they make up for it in the sheer amount of filth they spew onto the net each day.

When we look at the Violence pyramid above, far fewer people are actually assaulting and physical hurting people than there are making horrible jokes, degrading other people and using problematic language to perpetuate issues. So for every person out there literally saving lives, we need 100 at home explaining to Uncle Jack that his emails are gross and offensive and no one wants them. 50 people need to be online showing their friends that they CAN speak up to racist FB posts. 20 people should be on twitter, expecting more of allies, and speaking up for people being harassed and abused. 5 need to be brave enough at work to ask a colleague to explain how that offensive joke was funny.

The people working at the public face of activism are pivotal, they are important, and even if that IS all they do, it is of value.
To expect more of anyone is rude. It is ableist and objectionable. Most people have lives, families, jobs and health to take care of. The fact any of us have time for this, which we can do from bed, is an unpaid miracle and yes, we have things we would rather be doing!

So next time someone uses “they have nothing else in their lives” or “not really helping” as a critique –think twice about supporting them.

 

 

On her bike

For a bit of 2012 and most of 2013 I borrowed the Auckland Frocks on Bike bike to see if I could get around on two pedals.  I've written about that experience here.  In November last year I decided I'd been dipping my toes in for long enough and invested in a bike, complete with basket, bike lock, rear rack, and good intentions galore.  My mum gave me The World's Largest Bike Bell.  I decorated the basket with some flowers from a broken plastic lei.

It's actually going well.  I have worked out I have poor balance (I fall off quite a bit, have trouble with take off too), and that's not all that likely to go away.  I'm also rather scared of going fast, so I use the brakes a lot going downhill.  People smile at me more when I have the basket on, and it's quite delightful to be able to get around my suburb and a bit further afield and say hello to those I meet on the street; something I could never do in a car.

What I've worked out is that when I cycle I feel I am a part of the neighbourhood I'm moving through, with all my senses, as opposed to being separated from it by the steel and glass shell of a car.  And that's a good feeling.

Cycling has become an important part of my self-care regime, along with nice-smelling stuff from Lush, visits to Savemart, a daily dose of anti-depressants, cuddles from young children of my acquiantance, reading novels, naps, eating cake, a monthly visit to a psychotherapist, and saying a cheery hello to people on the street.

At Suffrage Day last year my colleague and friend Pippa Coom, deputy chair of the Waitemata Local Board, spoke at Khartoum Place about what a bicycle meant to women in the 1800s; freedom.  I must admit I initiatlly thought that was a bit OTT, but on reflection I can feel that freedom whenever I ride.  For me it's a very different freedom from that of my foremothers and -sisters, but still it is freedom that is meaningful to me now.  Freedom from relying heavily on oil, freedom from traffic, freedom from being shackled to using roads to get around (cycleways through parks FTW!), freedom to experience the city around me directly.  Freedom to park for free, and get some sneaky inadvertent exercise, and get more sun, and ring a bell at people with good reason.

I'm not in this for health, although cycling does help me feel better.  I'm not in it to save the planet, because I know I can't do that on my own however much I can set an example.  I'm not in it to save money, appreciated consequence though that is.   I'm in it because in my current circumstances it is simply the best way for me to get around most of the time, and it helps me to feel well.

The bike I was previously borrowing felt like it acquired a name after a while (Bertie), but I haven't taken the step with the new one yet.  I've thought about Decca, and Agnes, and Ingrid, but I'm open to your suggestions.  Bruiser or Freedom seem more appropriate some days!  Feel free to leave your ideas in comments.

Auckland Libraries push past expectations...

Keen to see the library buildings used for more than just reading and storage? Want to take back your local library with an event that makes you THINK?

Join Auckland Libraries as they question, challenge and celebrate sex and sexuality on the page, stage and screen with a special series of thought-provoking events for over-18s.

Dark night celebrates diversity across the borders of gender, sexual identity, and sexual orientation. I for one would love a strong feminist group in the audience, especially for the Thursday night panel, and the Dark Night cabaret, where audience input have the capacity to mold the tone of the evening.

The events are as follows, further info can be found at the Auckland Libraries website.
I will see you there! - Scube.

Shame, a film.

Academy Cinema (next to Auckland city Library)

8pm Friday 21^st June

Auckland Library's events series "Dark night" launches with a special screening of Shame, a portrait of sex addiction starring Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan. Introduced beforehand by a panel discussion with psychologist Dr. Pani Farvid.
Price $10 or $16 - including a drink. Book online at www.academycinemas.co.nz

Shelley Munro

Wednesday 26 June, 6pm
Leys Institute, Ponsonby
Join erotic romance author Shelley Munro in conversation.

The new erotica?

Central City Library, Whare Wananga, Level 2

1800hrs Thursday 27^th June.

From Fifty shades of grey to erotic fan fiction and the new burlesque, how has erotica changed at the dawn of the 21st century? A panel discussion with Dylan Horrocks, Sam Orchard, Karen Tay, and Tosca Waerea


Dark Night Cabaret

Grey Lynn Library

8pm Friday 28th June.

A night of sultry, saucy cabaret that includes burlesque performers and Fringe Festival stars, alongside frank explorations of sex and sexuality in fact and fiction.
Scuba Nurse will be Hosting the Q&A section of the night with the answers to all those sticky questions... If you would like to submit a question - go to Twitter and use the hash tag #DarkNight

Call Grey Lynn Library to book on (09) 374 1314.

 

 

Crosspost: The Power of Like: Solidarity in a time of social media

Cross-posted from The Daily Blog 

It used to be pretty lonely being a left-wing feminist off-campus.  While I had political friends I was reasonably sure were feminist too, I was surprised enough times by sexist statements from lefties and ardent rejections of the f word by sisters in the movement that I didn’t take it for granted that we were fellow travellers on the Down With Patriarchy journey. 

Slowly but surely I started to identify like-minded individuals, many of them already people I gravitated to for other reasons like simpatico senses of humour.  But still it was a lonely every-day existence sometimes, with energy stored up from those sparse get-togethers to see me through. 

These days my life fair buzzes with feminist left-wingedness and it’s mostly thanks to my friend The Interweb.  Through the internet, blogging at first, then Facebook and now Twitter, I have met so many amazing women; feminists all, left of centre mostly, and each a jewel in their own way.  It seems hard to remember now that five and a bit years ago, before The Hand Mirror existed, I was often nervous about posting a feminist-minded status update; how could I know that my Facebook friends wouldn’t trot out the old tropes “man-hater” or “feminazi” or, perhaps worst of all, silently defriend me. 

I’ve also found the feminist friends I had all along but didn’t recognise as such, or wasn’t sure of; people from my past, before I was actively political, who I knew from school, or sailing, or via family connections.  They’ve been able to show their agreement and support through the really very small, but often highly significant, act of clicking Like.

For me this solidarity has been amazing.  Not only have I been able to make visible my work, I’ve been able to receive feedback, not always positive but generally always well-meant.  The Likes, the comments, the occasional Shares have been like a kind word in my ear, or a thumbs up and a grin from across the room.  Retweets and Favourites are the high fives of the digital world.  They give me a warm glow that helps to keep me going when the world that isn’t in the ether is getting tough.

Here’s a very different example which reached across political boundaries: the solidarity shown by dozens, possibly hundreds, of tweeters and bloggers when Colin Craig of the Conservative Party decided to take on The Civillian’s Ben Uffindell for a mischievious satirical misquote.

The proliferation of hashtaggery poking fun at Colin Craig was not just a chance for people to exhibit their wit (although it was also that).  It was in a very real way a chance to show support for Uffindell and his (often) good works on The Civillian.  Tweeters nailed their colours to the mast, very publicly, and most of them weren’t in Colin Craig’s shade of blue. 

Then there were the solidarity blog posts, from other oft-times satirical bloggers Danyl Maclauchlan and Scott Yorke, and even a newspaper column from Toby Manhire, again standing alongside Uffindell, for satire, for freedom of speech, and for puncturing the pomposity of politicians who act in such a humourless manner.

The Power of Like is now an undeniable part of our political interaction.  Those who are excluded from the internet are excluded too from this solidarity.  I hope we can get better at becoming more effusive with our honest compliments and warm thoughts in real life too

Feminist fails

When we acknowledge women who have spoken before us by commenting on their appearance.

When we tell a mother with a young baby that she shouldn't have brought him to an event.

When we assume the woman we haven't seen for years who turns up with her kids is a stay at home mum.

When we demand that someone else spend their time on something for us, even though they aren't really obliged to.

When we assume the youngest woman in the room is the most junior person.  Even when there are younger men.

When we restrict our definition of working to being in paid employment outside the home.

---

These are all things I've observed in the last week. 

We're not perfect, we never will be, and we are moulded by the environment we live in.  Somedays though I wonder if we all should try a little bit harder.

Imagining a world without sexual violence

Cycling and camping alone, I am confronted regularly with our gendered world.  Not just because people are surprised, or impressed, when they see me struggling up a hill or mountain on my laden bike.  Not just because people often seem uncomfortable with the fact that, after cycling for six hours, I don't care in the slightest if I'm dirty or unkempt - I just want to make piles of food to fill my belly.  Not just because those piles of food will sometimes provoke incredulous questions: "You're eating all of that?  By yourself?"  Not even just because sometimes men older than I am (though this happens less often these days) tell me "I'd never let a daughter of mine do that....."

True stories.

In all of these cycling experiences, my gender is, I believe, relevant.  But it's not the constant, the only question I've been asked in every country I've cycle-toured, by all genders, all ages, and many races.

"But do you feel safe, travelling alone? Aren't you scared, of, you know, being alone?"

My take on these queries is not that they are wondering if my precarious sanity will survive so much meditative time, because when I reply time alone in beautiful parts of the world is what I crave, the question becomes more specific.

What is really being asked here - and often becomes explicit - is "aren't you worried you'll be raped?"

I don't answer this with telling one kind of truth - sexual violence statistics - that of course I'm more likely to be raped by a man I know.  That I'm more likely to be raped in my home or his, than in my tent in a national park by a lake somewhere.

I tell another kind of truth.

Yes, on a handful of occasions in twenty years of solo cycling trips I've felt scared, really scared.  Sometimes I've been alone and literally no one knew where I was and I allowed the fear many (maybe most) women live with around sexual violence to flourish.  Once, camping alone by a river in England, that was because two men were outside my tent discussing coming in.  I pretended I was with someone:  "David, David, wake up, there's someone outside the tent!"

They ran away.

But even if I have been scared those handful of times - and I'm not diminishing those fears, they were real and debilitating - I don't want to stop doing something I love so much.  I don't want to constrain my life, to make it smaller, because of sexual violence or the fear of sexual violence.

So I keep cycling, alone and in beautiful places.  Every cycling trip I make, I come home refreshed and rejuvenated, my world a little larger.  When I meet other women cyclists, we talk about hills and campsites, the sea and our bikes.  We don't talk about mistressing our fears.

When I talk to other women, many, too many to count, tell me they are going to travel alone one day.  Fathers tell me they want their daughters to be able to see the world solo.  We are talking about imagining a world without sexual violence - it's far from all we need, but it's part of the picture.

Girls girls girls

Inspired by a Facebook discussion.

Is calling women "girls" demeaning?

Is calling men "boys" demeaning?

Is it more likely to you will get away with calling a woman a girl, because of the implication of youthful looks being seen as a positive for women, as opposed to calling a man a boy?

Don't people often refer to the All Blacks as "the boys"? 

Is it ok to refer to people younger than you as "girls" and/or "boys", and silly to use such for those older than you?

What about the tendency to call women who work in administrative support roles "girls", regardless of their age?

How do you feel when you are referred to as  "girl" or a "boy"?

What say you, dear readers?

Sweet dreams

Guestie: Fab Feb Fasting Feminist Seeks Same

Many thanks to Deborah for this guest post, crossposted at her place and The Lady Garden, seeking some fab feminist friends to fundraise fast with this February.

I'm going to do FebFast 2012, and I'm hoping that some of the fabulous feminists and friends that I know would like to do it too, and join the team I have set up for us.

The idea of FebFast is simple. You give up drinking alcohol for an entire month, and you pay for the privilege of doing so - $25 for people in employment, and $15 for concession card holders and students. That sounds like a dud deal, except that the money raised goes to four organisations, all of whom are working with young people who may be vulnerable to alcohol abuse. The four organisations are: Rainbow Youth, Evolve, CareNZ, and the ADHD Association. You can read more about them here: FebFast: Meet the Recipients.

So... are you prepared to give up alcohol for the month of February? It's a short month, 'though a day longer this year thanks to the leap year. Even if you don't wish to give up alcohol for a month, you might care to make a donation in support of the team, and of course, in support of the four organisations working to help young people who have problems with alcohol.

If you have an event you were planning to go to in February, and have an alcoholic drink or two, you can still do FebFast. You can buy a Get Out of Jail Free card Time Out Certificate for $25 for an emergency, $35 for a big event, or $45 if you're looking to purchase absolution.

Please think about joining the fast, or sponsoring someone who is doing it, or making a donation. And if you're doing any one of those things, how about doing it as part of the Fabulous Feminists and Friends FebFast team? You can join the team as part of the registration process, or if you want to make a donation, you can do it by clicking on the "Donate" button on the team page.

I'm really, really, hoping that I'm not going to be a team of one...

If you want to find out some more about FebFast, there's an article in the New Zealand Herald today: Kiwis challenged to February booze ban.

Only in our dreams

Unrequited Love No. 31 Sleeping Beauty.  Princess, recently awakened:  "I was dreaming of a place where household tasks were shared equally between men & women"  Prince, with moustache:  "Really?  Doesn't sound like any kingdom I've ever heard of."

Part of this month's cartoon series on the theme "Sleep and Sleeplessness" by the wonderful witty Judy Horacek.

How to lose your own political identity in one easy step

When I was 16 I worked in a take-away store that sold fried chicken, and on Saturdays things were invariably slow and quiet during the day.  The manager would usually get stuff done in the office, while the main cook and the cashier (me) would mainly do prep for the evening shift when things were busier.*  For a while the main cook was a guy called Peter and we used to have quite interesting discussions about politics.  I remember the specifics of none of what we talked about, except for the time when Peter told me I should be a Cabinet Minister's wife someday.  I asked why I couldn't be a Cabinet Minister myself.

That discussion, nearly two decades ago, has come back to me in the last few days.  On Thursday I rang back a journalist at the Herald on Sunday who had left a message saying he wanted to discuss my take on the marginal seats.  To put this in context, I generally do a couple of media interviews a month since I was elected to the Puketapapa Local Board, mostly about local issues, but sometimes about feministy political things as a result of work on this very blog you're reading.  I've been asked to be on TV panels for political shows (invitations I haven't been able to take up) to add a feminist perspective.  All of these media contacts, and ones I've experienced in the past for other hats I've worn, have been to me, as a person in my own right, a politician or a blogger or a spokesperson on an issue.

Back to my conversation with the HoS journo.  To start with I thought we were just talking about my take on the marginals.  I thought this was a bit strange, as I don't profess to have any particular expertise on the marginals, and had only made some loose predictions a couple of weeks back to aid my calculations for the projected Labour and National caucuses (and the gender analysis of the parties I've been doing for two elections now).  Indeed I declined to comment on the Hamilton seats at all because I just don't know enough about them.  I would have done the same for most of the other seats on my marginal list, but he really only asked me about Auckland Central and Maungakiekie, which I do know a little about.  I said I thought the door-knocking Nikki Kaye had done for six months before election day in 2008 had been key for her victory and that I had heard Jacinda Ardern's team had been canvassing there for ages already, making it difficult to predict.  I talked at length about what a good job Carol Beaumont was doing as a local MP in Maungakiekie, and how impressed I had been when we worked on the Pah Rd Warehouse issue together.

Then the penny dropped, when I was asked if I thought it would be demoralising to Labour to have the wife of a candidate saying they would lose some marginals.

Was it naive to think that a reporter might actually want to talk to me about some political analysis I'd written?

Expanding and contracting and expanding again

I was so sure it would be the Tuesday.  No particular reason, just a hunch. 

Due date was the first or second of September; the midwife seemed to waggle back and forth between them.  I was full and heavy, the most pregnant I'd ever been before.  Maybe I thought Tuesday because I wanted the pregnant part to be over.  I was very apprehensive about the labour part though, so I just kept pushing it away in my mind. 

Magically this process was going to be:

1. Pregnant
2. ????
3. Baby and mother healthy and well

I hadn't laboured at all with Wriggly, not a single contraction, in a story I told in three parts several years ago.  I was partly looking forward to giving labour a go, but pretty nervous, especially in regard to what I consider one of the scariest medical words in the English language, "crowning".  And I knew if labour didn't come on spontaneously soon it would be off to surgery for another sunroof delivery, with nary a uterus quiver experienced, and no chance of labouring with any future pregnancies either.

By 10.30pm I'd given up waiting to feel my first ever contraction and I headed to bed.

going beyond the individual

i think we've had some great posts put up here in the last week, and have really appreciated being able to think through the issues raised. i wanted to take up one point raised by deborah in her post on everyday feminism & knitting, which she put extremely well:

Part of the way it plays out is in the relationships I form with other people, which I try to base on respect. Respect for them as people, respect for their purposes. That respect can include criticising their choices, or approving of them. It certainly involves holding them responsible for those decisions. Only children and some people whose capacity to act autonomously is in some way diminished are immune from responsibility. Being up for criticism is part of being adult. Equally, those who criticise are responsible for what they say. There are no one way streets for adults.

for me, feminism goes further and looks at improving the choices available for women. i also hate it that so much of the discourse concentrates on individual choices and ignores the way institutional and cultural structures impact on those choices. it is, in effect, the neo-liberal approach of reducing everything to the individual, which i think is a deliberate strategy intended to actually alienate individuals from each other and to protect power structures from collective opposition.

i've seen it played out in practical terms on the stop the the rock's win a wife campaign facebook page. i've been following most of the discussions there (and may i once again express my admiration for those who are fighting the good fight, and apologise for not being able to put more time into helping them).

there have been any number of people who stop by to tell us that it is the choice of ukranian women to join these agencies, and that we feminists are evil for trying to restrict these choices and deny the ukranian women a chance at a better life. the disconnect is funny - they recognise that the individual choices of these women may be influenced by economic conditions in the ukraine, but have no interest in the factors that lead to those conditions, nor are they interested in measures that might be taken to improve those choices. neither are they interested in the fact that all women are affected by the way these agencies are set up and the way the competition is set up.

reducing everything to individual choice, by pretending society doesn't exist (hello margaret thatcher) and that if it does, it has no impact on that choice, makes it easier to ignore our collective responsibility to improve choices for women and for other marginalised groups.

i think we need to be saying "that choice isn't good", even while we support the individual who made that choice, acknowledge that it actually might be the best choice in the circumstances, and make sure we don't blame or shame the individual for making that choice. it's not always easy to do, and i know that in some cases it might well be impossible to criticise the choice without being seen to criticise the individual. and i know it sounds too much like the "love the sinner, hate the sin" doctrine that we see to excuse marginalisation of various kinds. but i think what i'm trying to say is something different, ie support the individual while working towards better choices for all individuals.

Everyday feminism and knitting

Cross posted

When I think about the core of feminism for me, I come up with this:

it is [recognising] that women are autonomous adults, capable of making decisions for themselves, of being rational and competent, of conceiving of a vision of the good life, and making choices in order to achieve that vision of the good life.

Or to put it in Stef’s fine words – being a feminist means that you are free to fuck up. Your life, your decisions, your responsibility. Just because you are an autonomous adult.

I've taken that from a post I wrote a year or two ago, about why feminists must be pro-choice.

Thinking in terms of autonomy means going further than just making choices. It means that a person has not only made a choice, but that choice is considered, it is unconstrained, it can be put into practice, in the longer term, it adds to her status as an adult.

But that's all very abstract, very much a theorised position, rather than a guide to everyday living. How feminism manifests in my life is a different matter.

Part of the way it plays out is in the relationships I form with other people, which I try to base on respect. Respect for them as people, respect for their purposes. That respect can include criticising their choices, or approving of them. It certainly involves holding them responsible for those decisions. Only children and some people whose capacity to act autonomously is in some way diminished are immune from responsibility. Being up for criticism is part of being adult. Equally, those who criticise are responsible for what they say. There are no one way streets for adults.

Partly it plays out in listening to women's experience, and understanding that if someone says that her experience is A, B, and C, then really, it is not up to me to tell her what her experience is, nor that her experience doesn't matter in the light of my theory. Shut up and listen already is a very, very useful heuristic to live by.

Feminism sees me viewing everything through a gender lens. A gender analysis is my first approach to an issue. Does this affect men and women differently, and if so how, and does it matter? Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't, sometimes it just doesn't matter.

Feminism pushes me to think in terms of inclusion and exclusion, not just for women, but for anyone who doesn't fit into the nicely fitted moulds of contemporary society. The teenagers' reading room at the library is great for teens, but deeply exclusive for pre-teens who want to read the books held there. The ramp up to the first floor entrance to the library means that everyone can get into the library, but it's a long way further to go for people using mobility devices. Sitting on a work table while lecturing may mean nothing to pakeha students, but it causes a jolt of discomfort for many Maori students, making the room a difficult place for learning. And so it goes.

Feminism means that I value women's work. The first time I went to the Royal Adelaide Show, I was astonished to see displays of knitting and sewing and lacemaking, even tatting, baking and preserving, quilt making and embroidery. Well, not so much the quilting and embroidery, but the trays of ginger crunch and filled sponge cakes and jars of jellies amazed me. That one could enter a competition for such things, and get certificates. Very, very old-fashioned, I thought. And then I thought again, because it could be seen as a celebration of women's work, of the things that so many women do so well, every day, but because it is housework and home care, baking and cooking rather than creating meals like a chef, it is not valued. My feminism values and celebrates that work.

And my feminism values women's spaces. For some years, I belonged to a book group. We were a group of women ranging in age from early thirties to late fifties, we read classic works and every six weeks or so, we got together on a Friday night to talk about them. The conversation would start with the book we had all read, then move on to Jane Austen (of course!), and from there segue to work and family and children and current events and partners and on and on. Some of the women in the group were explicitly feminist, some were not, all of us enjoyed each other's company, and we enjoyed the women-space. The group functioned differently from gender mixed groups I have been involved in, and I suppose it functioned differently from all-male groups, but I wouldn't be able to tell you about that (pace Jane Austen and conversations between men). I couldn't say that the all-women group functioned better than mixed groups I have been involved with, because that's not the point. Nor would I describe it as feminist, although as a feminist, I valued the women's space that it created, just as a place to be.

So is knitting feminist? No. Not in itself, and not every feminist knits, nor does every feminist like knitting and crafting work. (Though it's hard to go past these daleks created by a feminist of my acquaintance.) But when a group of women get together, and knit, or bake, or garden, or read books, or engage in the slow conversation of blog posts, then with a feminist eye, I see the joy of creating space for women to be.

None of which means that men's work, men's spaces, are not valuable too. Nor that a group such as my book group must always be women-only. Nor that men can't enjoy craft work. Nor that a blog tagged as feminist is necessarily a space only for women. Just that as a feminist, I recognise and value the way that women's work and women's spaces can enable women to flourish.

Working Women's Seminar in Wellington

What: Working Women's Seminar
When: Saturday 1st May, 9.00am – 4.30pm
Where: St John’s Conference Centre, Cnr Dixon and Willis Streets, Wellington

Message from the organisers:
The seminar is a celebration of the 30th anniversary of the adoption of the Working Women's Charter by the NZ Federation of Labour. This year also marks 50 years since the passing of the Government Services Equal Pay Act 1960.

The aim of this seminar is not only to honour the past and define the present but importantly also to look to the future. Speakers include Martha Coleman, Hazel Armstrong, Taima Fagaloa, Margaret Long and others. Panel includes Maryan Street and Lyndy McIntyre.

Registration Fee $30 waged and unwaged $10.

Please contact workingwomenseminar at gmail dot com

Still on that journey

A little while ago Jadis asked a question over at Kiwiblog, which I thought I'd start to answer:

Are we there yet? Has feminism done a major part of what it intended to do – ensure women can have access to once male dominated areas? Or has the agenda of feminism (good and bad) evolved into something else?

Jadis illustrates her point, that we might be there, by reference to watching a group of women in traditional male roles; driving a fire engine, driving a digger, abseiling down a tree; and with further discussion of the equality of opportunity I think she believes women would now have if we didn't hold ourselves back. (I'm paraphrasing there, Jadis would be most welcome to clarify her thoughts in comments).

I seem to have been spending quite a bit of time in the last week or so having real life conversations with women in their 40s, 50s and 60s about The Death of Feminism. Somehow or other I've ended up talking about the fact we're not living in a post-feminist world, and they've expressed relief that there are still younger* women who realise this, because they still feel very strongly that we're not there yet. They gave some terrible (to me) examples of women taking for granted the gains hard-won by their fore-mothers, some of them not even that long ago. And the inevitable bagging of feminists that seems to be de rigeur in some circles these days. Sounds to me a lot like the "I'm not a feminist but..." sentiments I expressed myself in my late teens.

So here's my list of a few bits and pieces I reckon will signal the beginning of the end of our journey - the Not Far Now of Feminism, if you will:

• Every parent will know how to change a nappy
• Images of people in the media aren't altered to conform to some weird idea of perfection
  
• Every woman will get a vote, just as every man does
  
• Rape will be considered so rare and so shocking that there will be no question of blaming the victim
• Advertisements would eschew stupid stereotypes and dubious claims to instead focus on honest selling of their products
  
• Women are as likely as men to be mayors, nurses, teachers, counsellors, cleaners, aircraft engineers, political bloggers, or even arborists
  

What's on your list? Where do you think our society will be, when feminism's work is nearly done?



* I'm not really all that young now, so would be particularly interested in comments from those who are!

Feminist hugs

More pinkification of mothers

From Google today (Mother's Day):



Such lovely pinkification.

Good grief! Can we please, please get over this girl = pink nonsense, and the constant infantilising of women by associating them with soft, pinky, girly colours.

Calling Dunedin parents of pre-schoolers: Mind the Brain

Mind the Brain started up in Dunedin recently:

Dunedin’s new monthly forum is for parents who wish to remain connected to the world beyond the domestic sphere by meeting once a month to hear guest speakers talk on current affairs, politics, science to literature and the environment.

There's a Facebook group, and their next event is on April 21st, when local MP Clare Curran will speak.

The forum runs every third Tuesday of the month from 9am to 10am at Croque-o-dile in the Garden Cafe, Dunedin Botanical Gardens. For more info or to get in touch check out their website.

Usually I find myself wishing I lived in Wellington, but for once I'm thinking wistfully of Dunedin instead!

(Feminist) points on the board

Feels like it's been a bit of a heavy week here, what with all the writing and commenting about rape, abortion, pay equity, and so many of the fights we have yet to win. It's been a full on week for me personally too; away from home for two long work days without getting to see an awake Wriggly, fending off a cold, worrying about what my employer will think of the existence of this blog, and coping with a rather big (but exciting) workload. I'm feeling a bit weighed down, as if I'm made of anvils and elephants.

So I'd like to take a post, and a thread, to talk about the points feminism already has on the board.

What have we already won, even partly?
Which advance women have made makes you smile whenever you have occasion to take advantage of it?
What can we do that our grandmothers, even our mothers, couldn't?

Thanks in advance for helping me see the glass as half-full this weekend :-)