Who Was That Woman, Anyway?

It’s trite to say that books take you places. But true nonetheless. With books, you can disappear into other times, cultures, imaginary worlds. “Foreign” fiction is better than any guide-book at introducing you to a place and its people, and sometimes even better than going there if you want to see beneath the surface.

But if you live here and read enough of the stuff (say novels from the two Anglophone powerhouses – the United States and the UK-plus-Ireland) then a different feeling starts to kick in. Like what you’re getting to know is really life inside the American novel, not life inside America. At about the same point, for me anyway, “local” fiction itself starts to feel a bit foreign. Not in the way “foreign” fiction is foreign, but in the way local fiction feels rare, like something you don’t see very often. Which, when it’s good local fiction, also makes it feel precious and exciting and new.

I felt this way reading Aorewa McLeod’s new book “Who Was That Woman, Anyway? Snapshots of a Lesbian Life.” It’s a novel, yes, but as McLeod explains in the book’s front matter, it’s inspired by real life events. “Some details happened in real life, some did not,” she writes. “The characters are fictionalised and given fictional names.” The book’s 10 chapters, ordered by date, span roughly 40 years in the life of Ngaio, McLeod’s protagonist who, like the author, is an English lecturer at a university in Auckland.

The subtitle is sweet in the way it undersells the book. These are not only snapshots of a lesbian life, but of life in New Zealand, and life in Aotearoa. Snapshots of what it can be like to grow up here, and live here.

Its starting point is the 1960s with Ngaio, a university student, heading to Nelson to spend her summer break as a nurse’s aide because “an ex-schoolmate’s father was someone high up in the mental health service and he had suggested that nurse-aiding in psychiatric hospitals was a lucrative way of earning money in the holidays”. Ngaio is put in a ward with bedridden, severely disabled children. “There were enormous hydrocephalic water heads, tiny pinheads, huge slobbering mouths, bent bodies, contorted hands waving in the air, grasping blindly, clutching as if there were something to reach for. They could grip me with such desperate strength that I had to pry their fingers off. Many were blind. I couldn’t tell how old they were.” McLeod’s writing, particularly in the first half of the novel, is like that: direct and piercing.

It’s while she’s working in Nelson that Ngaio meets Suzy, her first love. Suzy is a Māori woman from a Mormon family who works as a charge nurse at the children’s ward in town. “She only goes for white girls,” a friend tells Ngaio. “All her family’s married white. That’s what the Mormons encourage them to do, to make it in the white world.” Who cares! Ngaio is in heaven. “This was it; this was what it meant to make love. This was the transformational moment of my life.”

A weekend in Dunedin - National Council of Women's 2012 conference

In 2010 I decided that I should get involved in the National Council of Women.  To me it was a somewhat shadowy organisation, with a mandate I didn't understand, which occasionally popped up with submissions to Select Committees or media statements which I either agreed with or was strongly concerned by.  One such example of the latter was NCWNZ submitting in favour of the 90 day legislation for employment, on the basis that it would be good for women.  My experience and observation is that those who face discrimination in the workplace already, as women do, are usually made more vulnerable by losing rights, not less so.  But anyway...

A couple of months ago QoT wrote about the NCWNZ support for the Who Needs Feminism campaign, and expressed her concerns about the level of feminist analysis NCWNZ was (or rather wasn't) undertaking.  While I agree with some of the points The Thorny One made, we are not in total agreement - which is not unusual ;-) - and it has been very interesting to become more involved in NCWNZ over the last two years and learn about why it is the way it is, and how it is changing. 

This weekend I have been in Dunedin for the biennial conference of NCWNZ.  It's an organisation established in 1896, and I see it as much like the game of cricket - highly evolved rules and customs which had reasons and made sense to insiders for a long time, but some of those reasons are lost in the mists of time, so it's hard for current participants to understand the relevance of positions such as Silly Mid Off.  There have certainly been Silly Mid Off moments for me during the conference.

But putting that to one side, I do see some significant value in NCWNZ, to the point where I am becoming more involved, not less, despite some frustrations.  Partly this is because I think it's important to have feminist voices (in particular those who aren't first or second wave), and a diversity of life experiences, active in NCWNZ, and that that is part of the evolution of the organisation which won't happen if it is abandoned by progressive people.

Which is not to say that most of those currently involved are not progressive.  I am constantly amazed by the staunch advocacy for women that fellow members will articulately share in branch meetings, online and now on the floor of the conference.  Some base their advocacy on the idea that women are mothers first and foremost, and thus what happens for children is of supreme importance, and that really grates for me, but often we find ourselves in agreement, albeit for quite different reasons. 

At a recent branch meeting we had a ripper of a debate about marriage equality.  Yes I would have prefered we had been in agreement, but it was heartening to see so many wonderful arguments for marriage equality put up by women who were in the demographic that the polling shows us is most likely to be opposed to Louisa Wall's bill.  In the end we decided not to take a branch position, which was disappointing to me.

The highlight of the weekend for me, in regard to the democratic aspects, has been the vote to support a remit on making contraception available to all women for free.  This includes both the actual contraception (pill, condom, IUD, implant, etc) and the consultation fee.  Currently there is a confusing array of free access for certain circumstances, especially those under 25.  However there is undoubtedly a need to widen this, as I argued in my 2010 presentation on why abortion needs to be legal.  The motion was put up by the Manawatu branch, seconded by ALRANZ (whose president Morgan Healey spoke very well to the motion) and I appreciated having the opportunity to speak to it too.  When I tweeted (@juliefairey) about the passing of this remit I was quite surprised at the positive responses from many people glad to see NCWNZ stand up on this issue.

The conference has been an interesting experience, for a variety of somewhat unexpected reasons.  The guest speakers and panel discussions have been very valuable; as I type there is a fantastic keynote being given on the issue of how family trusts undermine social justice, particularly as that impacts on women.  "Women and Work:  No Barriers" is the theme of the conference, and there have been a lot of discussions that show a very wide definition of "work" amongst the delegates, including a focus on the need to recognise the unpaid work that so often falls to women.  I've also met some fascinating women through my involvement in Auckland branch, and added to that number at the conference.  In particular, I greatly value the perspective of older women that I can access readily through NCWNZ, and which is absent from much public dialogue and not prevalent in my own personal circles. 

I'm involved because I think there is a role for an umbrella body, a peak organisation, for women's organisations (and the women's sectors/networks/etcs of other organisations), and because I want to help to shape the future of NCWNZ as it evolves.  If you are interested in getting involved too, it can sometimes be difficult to navigate the entry points, so I'm more than happy to assist, and can be emailed on julie dot fairey at g mail dot com.

wages for housework

i was directed to this article by silvia federici, which discusses the concept of paying wages for housework, and other issues around the structure of society. it's quite dated now, and i think feminists have been grappling with some of the issues she accuses them of ignoring for some time now. it's a pretty long piece, but i do like the points she puts in favour of wages for housework.

anyway, here is an excerpt:

We believed that the women’s movement should not set models to which women would have to conform, but rather devise strategies to expand our possibilities. For once getting a job is considered necessary to our liberation the woman who refuses to exchange her work in a kitchen for work in a factory is inevitably branded as backward and, beside being ignored, her problems are turned into her own fault. It is likely that many women who were later mobilized by the New Moral Majority could have been won to the movement if it had addressed their needs. Often when an article appeared about our campaign, or we were invited to talk on a radio program, we received dozens of letters by women who would tell us about their lives or at times would simply write: “Dear Sir, tell me what I have to do to get wages for housework.” Their stories were always the same. They worked like slaves with no time left and no money of their own. And there were older women starving on Supplementary Security Income (SSI) who would ask us whether they could keep a cat, because they were afraid that if the social worker found out their benefits would be cut. What did the women’s movement have to offer to these women? Go out and get a job so that you can join the struggles of the working class? But their problem was that they already worked too much, and eight hours at a cash register or on an assembly line is hardly an enticing proposition when you have to juggle it with a husband and kids at home. As we so often repeated, what we need is more time, more money, not more work. And we need daycare centers, but not just to be liberated for more work, but to be able to take a walk, talk to our friends or go to a women’s meeting.

Wages for housework meant opening a struggle directly on the question of reproduction, and establishing that raising children and taking care of people is a social responsibility. In a future society free from exploitation we will decide how this social responsibility is best absolved and shared among us. In this society where money governs all our relations, to ask for social responsibility is to ask that those who benefit from housework (business and the state as the “collective capitalist”) pay for it. Otherwise we subscribe to the myth-so costly for us women - that raising children and servicing those who work is a private, individual matter and that only “male culture” is to blame for the stifling ways in which we live, love and congregate with each other. Unfortunately the women’s movement has largely ignored the question of reproduction, or offered only individual solutions, like sharing the housework, which do not provide an alternative to the isolated battles many of us have already been waging. Even during the struggle for abortion most feminists fought just for the right not to have children, though this is only one side of control over our bodies and reproductive choice. What if we want to have children but cannot afford to raise them, except at the price of not having any time for ourselves and being continuously plagued by financial worries? For as long as housework goes unpaid, there will be no incentives to provide the social services necessary to reduce our work, as proved by the fact that, despite a strong women’s movement, subsidized day care has been steadily reduced through the 70s.

a humble life, but well worth the recognition

i've been busy for the last little while organising the muslim women's conference in hamilton. it was a great conference, attended by 200 people at various points. we started on friday night & finished sunday around midday. the biggest day was saturday, as a lot of women are only able to attend for the day.

as i was busy behind the scenes, i didn't get to any of the workshops. i'll try to post about the topics covered, and the afternoon activities at a later date. today, i wanted to write about part of the conference dinner on saturday night. although we have been holding these conferences annually since 1990, this was the first time we formally recognised the achievements of muslim women.

there were four women who were recognised for their service to their communities. what i loved most about the women chosen was that they worked quietly, without ever seeking recognition nor making a big noise about what they were doing. more than that, a lot of the recognition was for "women's work", work that is generally devalued and little rewarded. the sort of work that doesn't count for much with a lot of people, but which takes a lot of time and energy, making a big difference to the way communities function.

i haven't asked three of these women if i can publish their details, so i won't speak about them here. even though they are absolutely amazing, generous, kind-hearted, compassionate and giving women & i'd love to write a whole post on each of them. but the fourth woman, who achieved a lifetime achievement award, is my mother. she was nominated by someone else, but i was asked to write about her life, and i've reproduced below the bio that was read out at the conference dinner. she knows that we will be sending this out to various forums and has given her permission.

i can't even begin to say how incredibly proud i am of my mum. it wasn't until i began writing about her that i realised just how much she has given. i don't think i've managed to convey her contribution adequately at all, but i hope readers are able to get a sense of it. this has been written from faith-based perspective, because that's who she is & it's the perspective that is most important to her.


Qamar Rahman was born in a small village near Banaras (Varanasi) in India, where she grew up and did most of her schooling. After marriage, she migrated to Canada to join her husband who was studying there. Four years later they migrated to New Zealand, and settled in Hamilton. Her family was the first Muslim family to settle permanently in Hamilton. There was one further family in Ngaruawahia & and another in Putaruru, with whom there was close contact. There was a larger Muslim community in Auckland, and the family would make frequent trips to meet with Muslims there.

After a visit by a group of South African Muslims, Jum'ah prayer was started in the Waikato in 1975. Initially the prayer was rotated between Ngaruawahia and Hamilton, but as the community started to grow a little, both Jum'a and Eid prayers were held at Qamar's home. She would clean the house every Thursday evening, then spend Friday morning cooking lunch, which included curries, rice & chapatis, for all the worshippers who attended the prayers. She continued to do this even though she had two small children with only a year between them, and no extended family support. It was not until the Hamilton mosque was purchased in 1982 that this work stopped.

Qamar has been a stalwart of the local community, and often put her time towards teaching others how to read Qur'an along with basic Islamic knowledge. She increased her own level of knowledge by spending time studying the Qur'an daily, and by investing in numerous Islamic books during overseas visits. For some years, she wrote and delivered a weekely lecture in the Urdu language on community radio, broadcast on Friday nights. She carried out extensive research of the Qur'an and Hadith to write these speeches. She also wrote speeches and articles in English which have been published in a number of overseas publications.

As a mother, Qamar encouraged her children to be as active in community service as she herself was. She was a devoted mother, teaching her children to love Islam and to always have high standards of behaviour. She taught her children to aim for the stars in everything they did - academically and Islamically. She understood that a vital ingredient in a strong community is the strength of the next generation. And so for many years she made this task of bringing up the next generation one of her life's most important works.

She also completed a bachelor's degree (with a double major in English literature and politics) at the University of Waikato, even though English was her second language and she had only managed to complete 10 years of schooling in India. Qamar first completed Hajj in 1978, and since then has completed Hajj twice more. She has actively been involved in social service, as many members of the community would come to her with their problems, seeking her advice and an Islamic viewpoint on the issues they faced. She has been extremely active in welcoming new members into the community and inviting them to her home, as well as taking the time to visit them.

Qamar has been a founding member of the Islamic Women's Council, contributed willingly to Annual Conventions and Youth Camps and has encouraged others to be active within the community. For several years she worked as a voluntary English tutor for new migrants. She has travelled extensively through Europe, North America, Asia and Australasia. She has never sought any position nor any recognition for her work, but has worked quietly all her life. These days, she devotes a large part of her days to prayer and worship, as well as encouraging others towards the same.

Made in Dagenham

Today I saw Made in Dagenham, a film about the 1968 strike by 187 car-seat women machinists at the Ford plant outside London, which led ultimately to the British government passing the equal pay law. I've just been trawling through the British reviews. All of them by men, they range from condescending to sneering, with lots of nudge-nudge references to that hoary British sit-com, The Rag Trade, as well as to director Nigel Cole's previous hit, Calendar Girls.


I think you should see Made in Dagenham, and take your daughters and grand-daughters. First, it captures brilliantly the pervasive, blatant, smug, completely taken-for-granted sexism underpinning those far from distant days. The two things the men who ran the unions and the companies could agree on was the male right to be paid more than women, and be fully serviced by women at home.

The women working at Ford were probably better paid than most women factory hands, but they still earned less than the men and worked in a leaky, run-down, hot building (so hot, according to the film, they commonly took their tops off and worked in their bras). The strike began when Ford reclassified their work as unskilled, meaning, of course, less pay (though the actual details of their hours, rates, etc are far too tedious to be covered on film).

Despite union leaders' attempts to get them to back off and behave, they instead upped the ante, demanding equal pay with men. The women won the support of the union members, the Labour Government's Barbara Castle met the strike leaders, and after a partial victory for these women, two years later Britain passed a law bringing in equal pay - though still, of course, only for "equal work".

All this has been turned into a great story which will have huge popular appeal. The script, by Billy Ivory, never once made me cringe - except maybe when Barbara and Rita swap clothes chat just before their big moment with the press. It shows what the women are up against, at home as well as at work. Their uncomprehending menfolk are staunch unionists until it comes to being laid off when the lack of car-seats brings the plant to a standstill - and then having to get their own dinners and mind their own kids, because their wives are off demonstrating and negotiating.

The film has understandably collapsed the group of women who led the strike into one, the young, attractive Rita O'Grady, played by Sally Hawkins (who starred in Ken Loach's Happy-Go-Lucky). There has to be, I suppose, one heroine, even though that wasn't how it happened.

One other thing brought home to me how much liberty most historical films take. At the end, as the credits roll, there are side-clips of the actual women involved talking about the strike - they must have been interviewed by the makers, I wish we could have a documentary as well. There's also archival news footage of them in 1968, with Barbara Castle.

The factory women look absolutely nothing like the mini-skirted, mostly young, often busty and peroxided, swinging sixties women in the film. They're a bunch of extremely respectable-looking, often middle-aged women with perms and neat cardies. They reminded me more of the women in Mike Leigh's Vera Drake. Now there was one film that really did manage to look like the times it was recreating on screen, and very grim it was too.

Still, it's much better to have this film than none, and I'm sure it will draw far bigger audiences than Vera Drake, precisely because it's a lot more entertaining to watch. Unlike most of the overseas reviewers, Charlie Gates of The Press, Christchurch, understands what it's doing:

"When was the last time you saw a film with a strong female protagonist? A proper film that wasn’t about shopping, getting a man, climbing the corporate ladder or all three. Made in Dagenham is one of these rarities and it is a pleasure to watch...Made in Dagenham is full of warmth, humanity, humour and genuine drama...It keeps a perfect balance between the intimate and the turbulent sweep of history."

Even more unusual, Gates actually checked out how true-to-life the film was. "My partner's Nan, Flo Patston, lived near the Dagenham plant during the strike and her husband, Johnny, worked at the plant in the 1960s. I knew Flo had already seen the film, so I called her in England to see what she thought. She said it was a 'brilliant film' and gave it 'four stars and more'."

And Flo also said all the strong language the women go in for was perfectly genuine: "That’s what you heard on the factory floor. That’s how working class people spoke."

Four stars to you, too, Charlie, for your fine review. Go and see this film for yourself.