Category: equality

  • New findings from the University of Canberra’s Valuing Diversity in News and Newsrooms study provide cause for concern as well as optimism about the news industry’s response to gender inequality on screen and in the workforce. The report is based on a national online survey of 2,266 Australians and 196 journalists, combined with in-depth interviews with 27 journalists.

    Audiences give the Australian news media a mixed score card on gender. More than half (57%) say the reporters and journalists in news adequately represent women, while 53% say women are fairly covered in the news and there is enough coverage of issues relevant to women.

    Fewer people think the news coverage of women is impartial (43%) and balanced with the interests of men (44%). These figures, however, drop considerably among women. Women are much less likely to say there is equal treatment between different genders (36%) compared with men (47%).

    This reflects the perception about how society is treating people of different gender. While 47% of men think all genders are treated equally, only 36% of women do. Perceptions of gender representation in media are linked to politics as well as gender, with left-wing respondents (44%) being much less likely to say women are covered fairly in news compared with right-wing (69%).

    FIGURE: AUSTRALIANS’ PERCEPTIONS OF EQUALITY IN SOCIETY AND THE NEWS (%)

    Questions: To what extent do you agree or disagree with the following? Men, women and non-binary people are treated equally in Australian society; Thinking about Australian news in general, how well do you think it covers women? [Base: N=2,266]

    Questions: To what extent do you agree or disagree with the following? Men, women and non-binary people are treated equally in Australian society; Thinking about Australian news in general, how well do you think it covers women? [Base: N=2,266]

    What audiences may be less aware of is how people from diverse backgrounds are treated within news organisations.

    Journalists were generally more critical of their industry than audiences, with only 53% saying the news industry was doing a good job with gender diversity. Many journalists acknowledge that diversity is a priority and say that their organisation has diversity and inclusion policies in place. However, actual targets and training are less common. Most journalists (female 94%; male 80%) agree that the news industry needs to improve diversity.

    When asked how their own organisation is performing in terms of gender diversity, the majority (female 69%; male 78%) felt there was sufficient diversity. However, less than half (47%) of female journalists said everyone was treated fairly.

    We found a disproportionate number of women  reported experiencing discrimination in their workplace because of their gender (47%) compared to men (17%). Many more (58%) said there were either barriers to employment or career progression in their news organisation. Around one in five (19%) say that there are barriers when applying for jobs in their news organisation because of gender.

    FIGURE: JOURNALISTS’ PERCEPTIONS AND EXPERIENCES OF GENDER DIVERSITY ISSUES (%)

    Questions: To what extent do you think the Australian news media needs to work on improving diversity? [Base: N=196]; Do you think your news organisation has enough employee diversity in the following areas? [Base: N=193] *Excludes freelancers/contractors; Have you experienced discrimination in your newsroom based on your gender? [Base: N=196]

    Questions: To what extent do you think the Australian news media needs to work on improving diversity? [Base: N=196]; Do you think your news organisation has enough employee diversity in the following areas? [Base: N=193] *Excludes freelancers/contractors; Have you experienced discrimination in your newsroom based on your gender? [Base: N=196]

    The majority of respondents saw poor levels of diversity in their senior leadership and management. More than two-thirds ‘somewhat’ or ‘strongly agree’ that their organisation’s junior level is doing a good job with employee diversity (67%). In stark contrast, only 23% ‘somewhat’ or ‘strongly agree’ that senior levels at their organisation are doing well with employee diversity.

    FIGURE: EMPLOYEE DIVERSITY AT YOUR NEWS ORGANISATION BY LEVEL (%)

    Question: To what extent do you agree or disagree with the following? My news organisation is doing a good job with employee diversity at a… [Base: N=193] *Excludes freelancers/contractors

    Question: To what extent do you agree or disagree with the following? My news organisation is doing a good job with employee diversity at a… [Base: N=193] *Excludes freelancers/contractors

    Journalists we interviewed were reflexive of their own practices and norms, particularly the unconscious bias they may have in their day-to-day work. A journalist reflected:

    “So much of that can be these subconscious decisions that journalists then make … Not all journalists, but a lot of journalists will just unquestioningly do, which has the greater effect of invisibleising whole communities”.

    About half say their organisation collects and/or monitors staff diversity (49%) and 41% say their organisation holds diversity, equity, and inclusion training and workshops regularly.

    Over half of all respondents (52%) say their news organisation has policies relating to diversity, equity, and inclusion. However, only 39% of journalists say they have taken part in formal training about covering issues of diversity and inclusion in the news in the last 12 months. In reality, there are competing priorities.

    “I know this is important and it’s disrespectful for me to have not prioritised it, but it’s probably that reality thing in newsrooms … you want me to do these training things, but I also need to get these stories done”.

    It is important to be aware of what is happening in the news industry. There is a growing volatility and precarity of the profession in recent years due to the steep decline in advertising for traditional news outlets, many newsrooms closing or contracting, and the rapid shift of audiences to online sources of information and news. These factors all contribute to the increased workload for those who remain in the newsroom.

    Almost half (49%) of journalists in our survey say they are working in two or more different positions including reporting and other jobs such as digital and video news production. We counted the number of different topics individuals say they reported on. Almost half of all respondents (48%) say they report on seven or more different topics in the course of their work. This likely reflects the industry trend of decreasing staff and increasing workload.

    Our survey also shows that women (25%) are more likely to be employed part-time compared to men (20%). This reflects the overall trend we are seeing in Australian news industry. Full-time employment is more common among male journalists, with 78% reporting full-time status, compared to 63% of female journalists, according to Census 2021.

    Our findings show that while the news industry is beginning to address the issue of diversity, there is still much work to be done.

    The post Diversity in the media: progress but far to go appeared first on BroadAgenda.

    This post was originally published on BroadAgenda.

  • This International Women’s Day, Australian women should be celebrating recent legal changes designed to improve their working conditions. But this is just the first step. Discrimination cases are costly. Women need to insist this changes if we want to make further progress on achieving equality at work.

    Less Secrecy and More Flexibility

    Late last year, the federal government amended the Fair Work Act 2009 and it is now littered with references to gender equality including in the Act’s objects. Other inclusions are: the Fair Work Commission must take gender equality into account when setting modern awards and reviewing the minimum wage; when the Commission is assessing applications for equal remuneration orders, its assessment must be free of gender based assumptions; the Commission is in the process of establishing a specialist panel to deal with pay equity; and female workers can’t be subject to adverse action (like termination or demotion) because they are breastfeeding.

    The government has made it unlawful for employment contracts to include a clause requiring pay secrecy so workers can ask their colleagues what they’re being paid and disclose their pay if asked.

    We know that more and more workers are looking for flexibility so that they can balance work and caring responsibilities and that women are more likely to seek flexible working arrangements than men. Workers have the right to request flexibility under s 65 of the Fair Work Act (on a range of grounds including disability) but until now, if their employer refused the request on reasonable business grounds, that was not reviewable.

    From 1 June 2023 if an employer refuses the request or does not respond, then the employee can take the dispute to the Fair Work Commission which can review the basis for the refusal. This provides a degree of oversight into how these requests are being assessed.

    Pregnant young woman doing computer work in indoor room with lights.

    From June, pregnant women will be able seek flexible working arrangements, writes Dominque Allen. Picture: Shutterstock 

    Pregnant and Productive

    Also worth celebrating is that from June, pregnant women will be able seek flexible working arrangements so that they can continue to work as their body changes over the course of their pregnancy. These changes won’t necessarily be expensive for employers. In research I conducted on pregnancy discrimination, one worker only needed a fan because her office had faulty air conditioning and her body temperature was higher than normal. Modifications might be as simple as standing less, more frequent bathroom breaks, working at different times of the day.

    Sexual harassment continues to be an issue affecting women in the workplace. The law’s approach to sexual harassment has been to give workers the right to make a claim for compensation if they have been sexually harassed at work. Employers who failed to take reasonable precautions to stop unlawful behaviour could be held liable for their employee’s conduct.

    This retrospective approach is inadequate and places a heavy burden on the worker experiencing harassment to do something about it. Most choose not to, just like workers who are discriminated against.

    A Shift in Thinking about Equality

    Respect@Work, the Australian Human Rights Commission’s lengthy report into this issue recommended a raft of legal and institutional changes to improve the current framework so that it is victim-centred and preventative. All but one of the 12 legislative changes recommended by the report have now been implemented. Two new mechanisms indicate a significant shift in thinking about the best approach for tackling sexual harassment and sex discrimination.

    The first is that a worker who believes that they’re being sexually harassed at work and is at risk of that behaviour continuing can seek a Stop Order from the Fair Work Commission to prevent the behaviour from continuing. Employers can also be ordered to make changes to working arrangements, monitor workplace behaviour and conduct training. Failure to obey the Order can result in hefty penalties.

    Stop Orders are designed to target the behaviour early on before the harm has compounded, the employment relationship breaks down and the women is forced out of employment and into litigation.

    The second mechanism is the positive duty. Employers and persons conducting a business will be required to take measures to eliminate sex discrimination, sexual harassment and victimisation.

    Like the Stop Order, the positive duty is designed to address behaviour early on, before things escalate. Employers are required to evaluate their workplace, identify problems, and take measures to address them. Failure to comply with the duty can result in an investigation by the Australian Human Rights Commission.

    Both mechanisms are to be celebrated for being proactive rather than reactive, and for taking the burden off the employee who is experiencing discrimination.

    Discrimination is Intersectional

    While we should rejoice that the legal framework now includes these mechanisms, this isn’t time to rest – there is more to be done.

    This shift in approach from dealing with discrimination after the fact to prevention and promoting equality needs to be applied to other areas of discrimination. Particularly because it can be difficult to unravel the basis for the discrimination. Discrimination can be intersectional and affect women on the basis of their race, age or disability as well.

    Costly barries to Legal Action Remain

    Women contemplating legal action are met with various hurdles. Legal action is exhausting emotionally. It’s time consuming. Most importantly, it is costly. The risk is greater for workers who use federal anti-discrimination laws because if they lose, they might have to pay the other side’s costs as well as their own.

    The Commonwealth government is currently conducting an inquiry into costs in discrimination claims. Even with the introduction of Stop Orders and the positive duty, women will still need to bring discrimination claims and so reform is needed.

    Adriana Orifici and I recently interviewed Victorian lawyers who have run sex discrimination claims and we asked them about the barriers women face in taking legal action. They said the cost was the primary reason women don’t proceed.

    One experienced lawyer recalled cases “where women have gone through matters and ended up handing back almost everything they got in legal costs, having… absolutely run the gauntlet.”

    By IWD 2024 let’s hope we’re celebrating that women no longer face the risk of the crippling cost of taking legal action to enforce their rights at work.

    • Please note: picture at top is a stock image.

    The post Celebrations and disappointments: Women, workplaces and the law appeared first on BroadAgenda.

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  • Last year, I boycotted International Women’s Day. I went to a lovely event at the National Gallery, booked myself into a hotel in the city, took myself out for dinner and to the ballet, and refused to do any work, give any speeches, or attend any morning teas.

    Why?

    I’ve worked to promote women’s rights and advance gender equality all day, every day for a quarter of a century. And I was tired. So very tired. Too tired and outraged by the sexism, violence, and discrimination that women and gender-diverse people face every day, to put on a smiling face, share some platitudes, and drink a cup of tea.

    From the time the banners go up announcing International Women’s Day celebrations, to the time they come down, multiple women will have likely been murdered by their intimate partners, sexual harassment will be happening in the very workplaces that are hosting these events, and women and gender-diverse people working in these organisations will still be being paid less than men. To add insult to injury, I’m often asked to do these events for free, and the events themselves are often organised by women as an additional responsibility to their own jobs, without additional pay or support.

    Here’s some things that should be grabbing our attention this International Women’s Day.

    In spite of some progress, still only 22% of CEOs in Australia are women, and 22% of Australian boards are comprised of only men. One in two women have experienced sexual harassment at work, and people who also experience other kinds of discrimination and disadvantage, such as Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander women, women living with a disability, people of diverse sexual orientation and young women are all more at risk. In Australia, women still earn $13,182 less than men each year driven, first and foremost, by discrimination. And we still don’t have national data on the gender pay gap for First Nations women, women of colour, or women with a disability…

    As the day rolls around again, the predictable questions have begun. Why are we focused on the rights of women? Why is there an International Women’s Day, but not an International Men’s Day? (There is actually, look it up). Why all this fuss when women are already equal? I understand the confusion. Sure, things have improved. We’ve seen some progress absolutely worth celebrating. In the last 50 years, women have moved into employment and public life in ways which would have been unfathomable to previous generations. In Australia, women now make up 47.9% of the workforce. There are some high-profile women chief executives, and worldwide, girls and boys are getting closer to equality, when it comes to getting an education.

    And yet, the gender pay gap persists, and women and gender-diverse people are still significantly overrepresented in part-time and casual work, impacting their financial and job security, and career progression. Only 28 of 150 elected heads of state, and 13 out of 192 heads of government around the world, are women,and those very women in powerful positions, often find themselves subject to a torrent of sexist behaviour from men, online and otherwise. Furthermore, gender inequality is being reinforced by gender biases in new technology including AI systems.

    When we look at the lived realities of women in this country, particularly women of colour, First Nations women, women with disabilities, and women from the LGBTIQA+ communities, the disconnect is even more striking. In Australia, First Nations women are 35 times more likely to be hospitalised for family-violence related assaults, than other Australian women. More than 70% of women with disability have been victims of violent sexual encounters at some time in their lives.

    Almost 60% of women of colour in Australian workplaces experience discrimination based on their race and gender and lesbian, bisexual and transgender women are collectively three times more likely to experience depression. As women, we’re still far from equal, especially those of us who are also affected by other forms of discrimination.

    And yet, the solution to this, year after year, on International Women’s Day, seems to be cups of tea and cake. It’s become a bit of a joke. But it’s not funny. To me, it’s come to represent the minimisation that women receive from all corners of society, every day, and the disconnect between what our workplaces do to appear as though they care about equality, and real, long-term commitment to address these issues.

    Cupcakes.

    “The solution to this, year after year, on International Women’s Day, seems to be cups of tea and cake. It’s become a bit of a joke,” writes Dr Emma Fulu. Picture: Shutterstock. 

    The evidence shows that these issues are deep, rooted and embedded in our very culture and society. They require similarly deep and long-term solutions and, in fact, most organisations will need to transform their cultures, in order to become fully inclusive. This means that most workplaces have real, internal work to do, beginning with an understanding not only of the extent of the problem, but to the value it brings, a commitment to action and addressing systemic barriers to equality at all levels of the organisation, attracting, and retaining, women and diverse talent, and committing to, and measuring, cultures of meaningful inclusion and belonging, not just diversity.

    I understand that this is hard. I get the desire to skip those difficult conversations, to just repeat what has been done before, even if it didn’t work. But here’s the thing. These issues are not going away. Workplaces are facing pressure from all angles to create more equal, diverse, and inclusive cultures, in a way that’s truly meaningful, and not just about how it looks. In a recent study, 39% of all respondents say they have turned down or decided not to pursue a job because of a perceived lack of equality and inclusion at an organisation.

    When we look to Gen Z, who have just joined the workforce, that number grows to 77%. Regulators are also shifting their attention to the workplace. In Australia, new requirements for the public sector under Victoria’s Gender Equality Act is just one example.

    Workplaces are where many people start to change their mind about social change, and they’re hugely important. It’s where we’ll spend close to one third of our lives. In changing our workplace cultures, making them accessible and inclusive places where everyone feels like they belong, we can also create meaningful social change. And to me that’s a huge opportunity.

    Getting equality right, means a workplace where power and opportunities are shared equally. Where people can show up as their full human selves. Where the diversity of people’s lived experiences and perspectives is celebrated. Where people are paid fairly and equitably. Where the workforce isn’t segregated by gender. That would lead to greater innovation, economic prosperity and health and well-being for all. Surely that’s something we all want to work towards.

    People often ask me if I get depressed doing this work, day in and day out. While there are indeed days that I feel heartbroken – for example when another woman is senselessly murdered, or when our political debates are couched in racist undertones – most of the time I feel hopeful and optimistic.

    That is in large part because of the incredible courage, honesty, and resilience I’ve seen with moments like #metoo and Black Lives Matter growing to become global calls to action. The Respect@Work bill has passed, and there’s a new political mandate for action and accountability on gender equality, and far from being disheartened, it’s inspiring to be amid such an important period of change.

    So, this International Women’s Day, I won’t be boycotting the day. But you won’t find me at another morning tea, either. UN Women’s theme for IWD 2023 is ‘Cracking the Code: Innovation for a gender equal future’, which highlights the role that bold, transformative ideas, inclusive technologies, and accessible education can play in combatting discrimination and the marginalisation of women globally.

    And that’s exactly what I’ll be working on – transformative education using innovative technologies to drive culture and behaviour change. I’ll be continuing to have those hard conversations about transforming the structures, systems, and values of an organisation. I’ll be using my creativity, and my voice, to remind people that these issues haven’t gone away, that they touch all of us, whether we’re women, men, or gender diverse. And I’ll be saying then what I’m saying here now – that only then, will we get to a place of true equality where everyone feels a sense of safety and belonging at work.

     

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    This post was originally published on BroadAgenda.

  • You can’t be what you can’t see.

    So when the 64 newly enrolled Indigenous students at the University of Canberra begin their studies this year (on top of around 350 existing Indigenous students), they only need to look up to aspire to success.

    Proud Bidjara woman Professor Maree Meredith has assumed the position of Pro Vice-Chancellor Indigenous Leadership. The job sits within the Office of the Vice-Chancellor , elevating the role at a defining time in Australia’s history with the Voice to Parliament Referendum on the horizon.

    Proud Gamilaroi woman Kirsten Tapine, meanwhile, has assumed the role of Associate Director, Indigenous Leadership and will work closely with Maree.

    Together, these women will be developing an Indigenous Leadership strategy to redefine the range and breadth of ways that the university engages with the community.

    They will also progress an obvious friendship, with Kirsten saying Maree has already inspired her in many ways.

    “I am excited to be working with her! But neither Maree nor I made it here by ourselves. We stand on the shoulders of our beautiful ancestors and those who have come before us and paved the way.”

    “Part of our mantra is to hold that space for others and pave the way for the next generation of leaders, because self-development and self-determination are so important for women especially so they can stand in their power and when we do that, we know it can help heal intergenerational trauma,” Kirsten said.

    Maree began her term last month, having formerly held the role of Director of Poche SA+NT at the College of Medicine and Public Health at Flinders University. Her many priorities at UC include retaining Indigenous staff and recruiting more, expanding Indigenous procurement and engaging       with the Ngunnawal community.

    “For me, it’s about building a pipeline, about being visible as an Indigenous woman in the most senior position, about encouraging academics and staff and putting a huge focus on pathways to university for school students, but also mature-aged students and women in particular.”

    She also drew inspiration from UC Chancellor and Senior Australian of the Year Professor Tom Calma, who has been instrumental in creating the Closing the Gap campaign.

    “He is an incredible leader.”

    Kirsten Tapine and Maree Meredith will work closely together to develop UC’s Indigenous leadership strategy.

    Kirsten Tapine and Maree Meredith will work closely together to develop UC’s Indigenous leadership strategy. Picture: Tyler Cherry

    “I want the University of Canberra to be the university of choice for Indigenous Australians, and for them to see Indigenous representation at every level of the university.”

    UC’s Chancellor and approach to Reconciliation was one of the reasons Kirsten returned to UC, having graduated with a double degree in Commerce and Information Technology from UC in 2018. She said she was inspired to work with Tom as the Chancellor and now Maree—with both women holding the distinction of being the first in family to graduate from university.

    They understand the power of education and approach the upcoming Referendum with hope.

    According to Kirsten “Reconciliation is a movement of the heart and is about walking and working together for the betterment of society, and the responsibility should not lie solely with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people.”

    Maree said UC had already hosted some important forums to increase understanding of the key issues. “We have been tying all threads together and generating genuine discussion. I see that as our role as a university, to be a safe space for knowledge to be exchanged.”

    • Feature image: Professor Maree Meredith, Pro Vice-Chancellor Indigenous Leadership at UC (right) and Proud Gamilaroi woman Kirsten Tapine, (left) who has taken up the role of Associate Director, Indigenous Leadership. Picture: Tyler Cherry

     

    This article first appeared on HerCanberra. Read the original here.

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  • Mega-influencer Andrew Tate is once again back in the news as he battles charges of organised crime and human trafficking in Romania.

    Tate gained infamy last year after being banned on most major social media platforms for promoting a variety of aggressively misogynistic positions designed to stir controversy and draw attention to his brand.

    But while widespread public attention was drawn to Tate only recently, his reputation as a thought leader and “top g” in the online “manosphere” community has been longstanding.

    Indeed, Tate’s ability to stoke and exploit the anxieties and grievances driving the manosphere are unprecedented, and have played a key role in him amassing millions of fans and hundreds of millions of dollars.

    The lure of the ‘manosphere’

    The manosphere is an overlapping collection of online men’s support communities that have emerged as a response to feminism, female empowerment, and the alienating forces of neoliberalism.

    While this is widely understood, a lot less energy has been directed to understanding why and how men are attracted to these extreme communities in the first place.

    The manosphere’s appeal can be perplexing, particularly for parents, teachers or friends trying to make sense of how the men in their lives suddenly adopt aggressively misogynistic views.

    But while the community’s content presents deeply concerning perspectives on women, it also offers explanations for, and solutions to, a very real set of issues facing young men.

    A tranche of data illustrates these growing challenges. Men are rapidly falling behind in education engagement and outcomes. Rates of young male economic inactivity have risen considerably over the past two decades.

    The intimate relations of young men also appear to be in decline. One report suggests rates of sexual activity have dropped by nearly 10% since 2002.

    Suicide rates have risen significantly in men in particular over the past decade.

    We’re also facing a loneliness crisis, which is particularly concentrated in young people and men.

    The manosphere appeals to its audience because it speaks to the very real lives of young men under the above factors – romantic rejection, alienation, economic failure, loneliness, and a dim vision of the future.

    The major problem lies in its diagnosis of the cause of male disenfranchisement, which fixates on the impacts of feminism. Here it contrasts the growing challenges faced by men with the increasing social, economic and political success experienced by women. This zero-sum claim posits that female empowerment must necessarily equate to male disempowerment, and is evidenced through simplified and pseudoscientific theories of biology and socioeconomics.

    For many young men, their introduction to the manosphere begins not with hatred of women, but with a desire to dispel uncertainty about how the world around them works (and crucially, how relationships work).

    The foundations of the manosphere may not strictly centre on misogyny, as is popularly imagined, but in young men’s search for connection, truth, control and community at a time when all are increasingly ill-defined.

    Profiteering off anxiety

    Since its inception, the manosphere has been rife with predatory influencers seeking to profit off the anxieties unleashed by this ambiguity.

    Driven by a desire to reassert a romantic masculine aesthetic ideal in a world of social media unrealities, members of the manosphere often become willing consumers of a wide variety of products and services to “solve” their problems. These range from vitamin and gym supplements, personal coaching, self-help courses, and other subscription-based services.

    But the influencers aren’t just capitalising on a sense of crisis passively – they actively cultivate it, as our research shows.

    Figures like Tate, Canadian psychologist Jordan Peterson and “alpha” strongman Elliott Hulse expend huge amounts of energy and capital fomenting a sense of crisis around these issues, and positioning themselves at the centre. No more clearly was this illustrated than in Tate’s “Hustler’s University”, which created a series of exclusive chat rooms promising men a solution to their fears and centred on Tate’s personage and teachings.

    Such communities solidify the claims made by their leaders, creating feedback loops that contribute to a climate of tension and hysteria. Members are actively encouraged to ridicule those who aren’t willing to acknowledge the “feminist conspiracies” that supposedly underpin the social and political world. Non-believers are seen as contemptible, weak and ignorant, dismissed through an ever-growing newspeak lexicon as “simps”, “cucks” and “betas”.

    The community can also be mobilised to spread the message and brand of the influencer to the wider public, as demonstrated by Tate.

    Having successfully isolated and indoctrinated community members, influencers can then rely on them as a persistent source of support and revenue, allowing them to further reinvest and continue this cycle of growth. This suggests a key way to push back on the wider effects of the manosphere is the targeted disruption of such feedback loops and the prevention of future ones emerging.

    Empathy, patience and support

    Tate and the manosphere didn’t manifest spontaneously. They’re symptoms of a deeper set of challenges young men are facing.

    These problems won’t be addressed by simply deplatforming people like Tate. While this may often be necessary in the short term, savvier influencers will inevitably emerge, responding to the same entrenched issues and employing the tactics to greater effect, while avoiding the mistakes of their predecessors.

    In confronting the manosphere we need to understand and take seriously its appeal to lost men and the centrality of influencers in this process. We can be as critical of it as we want to be. But we also need to understand what it provides for many: a community and place of belonging, a defined enemy, direction, certainty, solutions to deep and systemic issues and, perhaps most importantly, hope.

    We also need to avoid the kneejerk stigmatising and dismissal of people who fall into the manosphere. Simple ostracism tends only to entrench attitudes and reinforce the narratives of persecution spun by Tate and his ilk.

    Instead, we need to use empathy, tolerance and patience to support men in ways that lead them away from these unpleasant boroughs of the internet and make them feel connected with wider society.The Conversation

    This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

    • Picture at top: Wes Mountain/The Conversation, CC BY-ND

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  • A few days ago, BroadAgenda editor Ginger Gorman spotted a stunning iInternet campaign, designed to “Correct the Internet“, allowing female elite athletes to take their rightful places in the history books.

    To quote from the campaign:

    Many of the world’s best athletes are women. And many of the world’s sporting records are held by women. But due to human bias, our search engines have learnt to prioritise sportsmen in our search results, even when the facts put sportswomen first.

    We want to change that.

    By using each search engine’s inbuilt feedback function to send feedback whenever we find something wrong, we can get the inconsistencies in our search results logged and fixed.

    Ginger had a chat with former New Zealand elite footballer, Rebecca Sowden, about the campaign.

    In a few sentences, tell us a bit about yourself and your background. 

    I’m a former New Zealand Football Fern who has spent 20 years at the intersection of sports, media and entertainment. Nearly four years ago I founded Team Heroine, a women’s sport sponsorship and marketing agency after I was watching the FIFA Women’s World Cup in France and felt that brands still weren’t unleashing the opportunity around women’s sport.

    What’s the “Correct the Internet” campaign all about? 

    It’s a social cause initiatve to tackle the gender bias that occurs on the internet against sportswomen in hopes of giving sportswomen their rightful place on the internet and ultimately increasing the visibility of women’s sport.

    How did it come about?

    A group of like-minded people came together after finding we were incurring the same problem that when we searched online for information or statistics pertaining to sports or sportswomen we were often getting served the incorrect factual information.

    So we joined forces and in true women’s sport fashion have garnered support across the board, be it from athletes like Australian swimmer, Tasmin Cook, Perth Glory footballer Tash Riby, the United Nations, Women’s Sport Australia, Women in Sport WA and more.

    Former elite footballer Rebecca Sowden wants human bias to stop stealing glory from female athletes. Picture: Supplied

    Former elite footballer Rebecca Sowden wants human bias to stop stealing glory from female athletes. Picture: Supplied

    How have human biases (AI and algorithms) learned to replicate off-line societal biases? 

    This internet is simply a reflection of our human biases and it’s simply reflecting what it thinks we want to see as we have as humans have created this problem by teaching search engines our inherent bias.

    What do you want to see done about it? 

    We’re not only hoping to raise awareness around the incurraices around sporting information and sportswomen on the  internet but actually correct the incorrect stats. We’ve identified around 30 incorrect existing statistics that people can help correct by heading to www.correcttheinternet.com and following a few simple steps to provide feedback to the search engines and help us get these corrected. Alternatively people can also submit incorrect statistics they have found and we can also add them to our list.

    What kind of response have you had – especially from female athletes of all ages? Have the tech companies responded? 

    The support globally has been phenomenal and better than we could have ever hoped which really goes to show it’s a universal problem that is resonating around the world.

    We’ve had support from athletes like US Soccer star Alex Morgan and the US Women’s National Soccer Team Players Association to leading bodies like the United Nations and media companies supporting with free ad spots. We’re confident tech companies also want to see the correct factual information around sports and sportswomen conveyed on the internet.

    What do we do if we find a mistake online? 

    Head to www.correcttheinternet.com and get in contact with us to let us know so we can add it to our on-going list which people can support.  Alternatively if you find something moving forward online you can easily submit feedback directly to that search engine by following the simple steps outlined on our website.

    Longer term, what do you hope this will achieve? What would a perfect internet look like to you, when it comes to women’s sport and representation? 

    We want people to receive the correct factual information around sport no matter who they are or where they are searching from.

    We want sportswomen to be recognised for their achievements and we want to inspire the next generation.

    Anything else you’d like to say? 

    We created this problem, but we can all fix it. Get correcting now!

     

    The post Recognising the achievements of sportswomen: Correct the Internet appeared first on BroadAgenda.

    This post was originally published on BroadAgenda.

  • Nearly $16 million in grants funding has been awarded to 17 programs supporting women in STEM through initiatives like industry internships, teacher training, and lessons for school students. The projects will receive funding under round four of the Women in STEM and Entrepreneurship (WiSE) program, announced by Industry minister Ed Husic on Tuesday. The grant…

    The post $16m in grants for Women in STEM programs appeared first on InnovationAus.com.

    This post was originally published on InnovationAus.com.

  • Having initiated one of Australia’s most successful campaigns against sexual assault, Chanel Contos shares some valuable advice:  “Be ruthless with structures and kind with people.” 

    Chanel believes the decision to focus on changing the culture, rather than demonising individuals, is the main reason for the success of her Teach Us Consent campaign. As a result of Chanel’s initiative, Australia will soon see consent education introduced nationally in every school at every level. 

    In February last year, Chanel posted an Instagram poll, asking “Have you, or has anyone close to you, ever been sexually assaulted by someone who went to an all-boys school in Sydney?” The post went viral and Chanel was soon inundated with replies from all over the world. Seventy per cent of respondents answered, “Yes.”

    With over 200 responses within 24 hours, Chanel quickly realised an issue she and her friends were discussing privately was not isolated to a few exclusive Sydney schools. Teenage boys are routinely raping and sexually assaulting teenage girls, but rape culture is so normalised in our society that, often, neither perpetrators nor victims understand what has happened between them is a criminal act. 

    The problem, identified by Chanel, is that neither girls nor boys receive consent education at school. It isn’t until they leave school that young women realise they have been raped or sexually assaulted – often by boys they trusted, and considered as friends. It’s unclear how many young men gain sufficient insight to understand that actions they considered “normal teenage behaviour” were not only illegal, but hugely damaging to the young women involved. 

    Inspired by the response to her poll, Chanel, now working with a team of experts, set up a website called “Teach Us Consent” and started an online petition asking for sexual consent education in Australian schools. The petition quickly gained more than 44,000 signatures supported by over 6,540 stories of sexual assault. 

    Recently, I interviewed Chanel Contos for an episode of  the Australian Academy of Social Sciences in Australia’s ‘Seriously Social podcast’. As the mother of 9 and 12 year old girls, the importance of her work really struck home to me. As an older feminist, I finished the interview simply bursting with pride that young women of Chanel’s generation are taking up the cause of women’s safety and equality with such thoughtfulness, insight and skill. 

    Chanel, herself,  was sexually assaulted at just 13 years old, but it was not until she left school she discovered the boy who sexually assaulted her went on to do the same to one of her friends. 

    She says, “I got really, really emotional about the fact I could have prevented it happening if I had fully understood what was going on; if I’d reported him or held him accountable in some way. But I didn’t.”

    “I didn’t know that someone you knew and trusted could do something like rape you. I thought rapists were that stereotype of someone who is going to kidnap you and hurt you. I didn’t realise that sexual violence can occur without physical pain being inflicted. And because I thought what happened was normal, I didn’t tell anyone. I just thought that was part of being thirteen.”

    “I thought, maybe if he knew what consent was – how important it was – maybe he wouldn’t have done it to me.”

    Chanel’s initial plan was to solicit some testimonies from girls within her own circle and pass them on to local boys’ schools. But then she decided on the Instagram poll – and it went viral.

    She says, “I was getting testimonies faster than I could physically read or post them.”

    Chanel couldn’t help but be touched by the responses. She told me, “… those stories – every single one of them – was so genuine … None of them were conventional or whatever. Everyone had their own voice and that made their stories feel so real … It was hard to ignore that.”

    When, inevitably, the media got hold of the story it took Chanel’s campaign to a level where it simply couldn’t be ignored.

    The Teach Us Consent campaign is designed to change lives. But it has also changed Chanel’s life. 

    She says, “If we think about the day before I launched the petition I was a big-time, chilled out, uni student. Doing my Masters degree and living in London during the COVID lock-down, I was spending a lot of time inside; sleeping in, staying up late. And then, almost overnight, after the petition started, I didn’t sleep for like three or four days.”

    Chanel spent the next 18 months working on her Master’s thesis during the day, then switching to “Australian time” and working on the Teach Us Consent campaign all night.

    She says, “It was a massive life change, but it means that now I get to work in gender equality and violence prevention and human rights, which is something I always wanted to do; I just didn’t really think I could do it.” 

    Chanel was recently appointed director of the Australia Institute’s Centre for Sex and Gender Equality. It is an inspired appointment, given the runaway success of Chanel’s Teach Us Consent campaign. 

    As a direct result of her efforts, NSW Police ramped up Operation Vest, their anonymous online tip site, Chanel met with the Prime Minister and, earlier this year, Ministers of Education from around Australia unanimously committed to mandating “holistic and age appropriate consent education in every school every year, from foundation until Year 10.” 

    Chanel was surprised that, once consciousness was raised about this issue, cultural change happened incredibly quickly. It went from cynical responses like, “What do you want the school system to do about it?” to everyone agreeing – the public, schools, police and politicians – that immediate action is required.

    Chanel marvels at the people who were “willing to put the most intimate parts of their lives on a public forum for the benefit of the greater good” and credits their selfless generosity for helping to effect this tangible change.

    Not all campaigns are as successful as Chanel’s, and certainly few get results as quickly. I asked her, “Why do you think your style of protest got the results it did?”

    First, Chanel thinks that people had a strong, emotional response to the testimonies posted on the Teach Us Consent website. To date, more than 6,500 stories of sexual assault have been submitted.

    But, having given it a great deal of thought, Chanel thinks what really made her campaign unique was “the fact that no individual perpetrator at any point got any blame. There was no individual finger-pointing.” 

    Chanel’s campaign was never about blaming perpetrators, it was about fixing the culture that was creating the problem. The mantra guiding Teach Us Consent was:  “Be ruthless with structures and kind with people.”

    She says, “I feel like that’s what the campaign did, which is why it had such an impact.”

    Towards the end of our interview, I asked Chanel, what she would do if she had a magic wand.

    At first, she says she would abolish normalised violence. But, as the discussion continued she revises her wish and decides that granting empathy to everyone would have the same result and a wider impact. 

    The success of the Teach Us Consent campaign should give us pause for thought. Of course, it is only natural to want to respond to sexual assault with anger and blame. But Chanel’s counterintuitive, empathetic approach encourages everyone to focus, not on who is to blame, but on how we can all do better.

    • Feature image: Chanel Contos. Picture: Supplied 

    The post “Be ruthless with structures and kind with people” appeared first on BroadAgenda.

    This post was originally published on BroadAgenda.

  • Let’s face it, it’s been a tough year. We were all hoping for a bit of respite from disease, famine and fire but 2022 has, in many ways, thrown us even greater challenges. So right now I need some optimism, something to celebrate.

    And that something does exist. It’s a new program that makes me smile in gratitude because it’s a simple idea that seems to have made life better – for women, their families and their communities.

    The Women’s School of Leadership has been rolled out in the Pacific – Timor-Leste and Papua New Guinea (PNG) – for the first time ever in 2022. It’s run by Fairtrade Australia New Zealand (ANZ), with a little help from our friends (like the Australian Department of Foreign Affairs in Australia and the NZ Ministry of Foreign Affairs).

    Around twenty students from Fairtrade coffee farming cooperatives in both Timor-Leste and PNG took part in the program over the course of the year and graduated recently. Their subjects included topics as diverse as income diversification, sustainable farming practices and gender equality. 

    Amy Child, Gender and Child Protection Advisor for Fairtrade ANZ, said that the initiative is life-changing for everyone involved.

    “It’s not just women who participate, although they are in the majority. The school is really about getting both men and women to understand the value of women in business, leadership, farming and across all parts of society,” says Amy.

    Traditional dancers from Unen Choit coffee farmer cooperative welcomed the graduates and special guests to the graduation ceremony for the Gender School of Leadership in PNG.

    Traditional dancers from Unen Choit coffee farmer cooperative welcomed the graduates and special guests to the graduation ceremony for the Gender School of Leadership in PNG. Picture: Supplied 

    “The hope is that all the participants go on to become gender equality ambassadors and leaders in their own communities so that change happens from the ground up.”

    The schools were well received in both countries with local dignitaries and government officials, including President Dr. Jose Ramos Horta in Timor-Leste, attending the graduation ceremonies. This was, in part, a result of the program being designed from the grassroots and utilising in-country expertise so that the lessons were relevant and culturally appropriate. For example, the PNG school had a name change.  It became the Gender School of Leadership despite the program usually being referred to as the Women’s School of Leadership in other parts of the world.

    “We felt that Gender School of Leadership made more sense in the PNG context after consultation with lots of different stakeholders. I am also proud to say that we drew upon local skills to deliver the curriculum so that it worked for PNG,” says Gabriel Iso, PNG Team Leader for Fairtrade ANZ.

    “The coffee growers know that we understand not just the coffee business but also what the community needs. Our work is about fair pay for coffee but also assisting in areas like women’s rights, child protection and environmental sustainability.”

    The program is delivered in modules and in PNG, the facilitators were thrilled to learn of the popularity of outreach work that participants were doing in local communities between classes. It was reported that in some remote villages more than 100 people travelled to listen to school participants speak about what they had learnt about how to change the gender paradigm.

    PNG participant Veronica Akianang expressed it in this way: “In all rural communities, women and girls are often neglected, yet they are passive achievers… They plant the trees, they plant crops, they do care for land, rear animals, and work on the farm each day, yet, their voice is not being heard. They are left behind … and are unable to reach to their full potential.” 

    Her feelings are echoed in international research. A UN study showed that on average, women make up about 43 percent of the agricultural labour force in developing countries. Evidence indicates that if these women had the same access to productive resources as men, they could increase yields on their farms by 20 to 30 percent, raising total agricultural output in these countries by 2.5 to 4 percent.

    Madalena da Costa Soares, 23, graduate of the first Fairtrade Women’s School of Leadership in Timor-Leste.

    Madalena da Costa Soares, 23, graduate of the first Fairtrade Women’s School of Leadership in Timor-Leste. Picture: Supplied

    Amy Child says the program aims to address this: “Recognising womens’ contributions is crucial for both the women themselves and their communities because when womens’ work is valued, it means their opinions and ideas are also valued. This enables them to become decision makers and leaders, which are all steps towards gender equality, especially in rural communities.”

    Madalena da Costa Soares, a graduate from the Timor-Leste Women’s School of Leadership, spoke at her graduation ceremony in front of President Ramos Horte and was encouraged by him to think big: “I was very excited… it was my first time meeting him and speaking in front of him. And he said that he was so impressed that he would support me to become a member of Parliament.”

    It seems 2022 did deliver something then.

    • Picture at top: Some of the first cohort of students at the graduation ceremony for the Gender School of Leadership in PNG. Picture: Supplied 

    The post A new gender school of leadership in the Pacific appeared first on BroadAgenda.

    This post was originally published on BroadAgenda.

  • The tutor is shouting that we all should pair up and get to know three interesting things about our partner to share with whole class: fun facts like their favourite flavour of ice-cream.

    Fun fact: These kinds of activities are not fun for transgender and gender diverse students who instead of choosing between double choc and rum n raisin need to decide whether to introduce their pronouns or be misgendered in front of the whole class.

    The first option will likely take up the entire conversation and may still not be understood, while the second could mean a whole semester struggling in silence.

    Transgender Awareness Week (November 13-20) falls too late in the year to address the agony of first-class icebreakers. Nevertheless, it is a valuable opportunity for transgender and gender diverse people and their allies to take action to bring attention to the diverse needs and voices of the transgender community.

    Yet, looking beyond the rainbow optics of diversity policies and international days of celebration and memorialisation, the everyday experiences of higher education for transgender and gender diverse students are complex and varied.

    As Moses*, a trans masc student with non-binary elements, noted there is a fine balance between having a “teachable moment with someone…which is interesting but also it is not our job, we are just people.” Or as Ollie, a student from the University of Adelaide student put it: “We’re not at university to have trans-rights battles…We’re at university to learn about whatever we’re meant to be learning about.”

    For Ollie being “so hyper-aware of being perceived” made concentration and learning difficult. Psychologist Charmine Härtel explains that a transgender and gender diverse students will look for clues by scanning the new environment of a tutorial.

    They will be sensitive to negative cues which results in non-disclosure of information and self-editing.

    The coping and security mechanism of self-editing takes up a lot of brain power and emotional energy, energy that could be used for learning.

    Annie and Robin believe Transgender Awareness Week (November 13-20) falls too late in the year to address the agony of first-class icebreakers. Picture: Shutterstock

    Annie and Robin believe Transgender Awareness Week (November 13-20) falls too late in the year to address the agony of first-class icebreakers. Picture: Shutterstock

    The problem also frequently extends beyond pronouns, as one queer student shared with us: “The use of ‘preferred name’ did not update across the various administrative accounts, and so I was outed publicly in each of my classes until my teaching staff learned to correct themselves.”

    For one Sydney University student updating their legal name in the University system did not result in changes to how they were being addressed in class. In this case, less than half of the commonly used student interfaces actually recognised the change leading the student to  note that: “It was easier to change my name legally than through the Student Centre.”

    But it doesn’t have to be like this. Moses also described having a mostly positive experience with “some really amazing professors and tutors”. That it is possible to offer amazing pedagogical experiences alongside moments of gender euphoria should set a standard for us all. So rather than fun facts, try reaching out to your gender diverse students for their hot tips! To conclude here are ours:

    Robin: Keeping an open mind that everyone can learn new things by staying curious and courageous to educate yourself, especially when occupying a student-facing or teaching role at university.

    Annie: Be willing to be guided by students, be willing to apologise and be willing to do things differently.

    • Participant in Robin’s research project concerning work experience and career development of transgender and gender diverse individuals.

     

    The post Break the ice. Not trans and gender-diverse students appeared first on BroadAgenda.

    This post was originally published on BroadAgenda.

  • As an astrophysicist, I’m used to being the only woman in the room.

    I’ve participated in, or witnessed so many initiatives that aim to teach people how to navigate a broken system, rather than fixing the problem. One particularly absurd initiative involved teaching women to play golf so they could be part of the old boys’ network.

    This is the exact problem we are trying to solve. We don’t need everyone to be like men. We need to overhaul outdated societal expectations and fix the structural problems to achieve equity in STEM (STEM is an acronym for the fields of science, technology, engineering and mathematics).

    A huge number of people experience barriers when it comes to STEM. A five-year study of STEM graduates from the year 2011 found that by 2016, only 1 in 10 STEM-qualified women worked in a STEM industry, compared with more than 1 in 5 STEM-qualified men.

    This is not surprising when we consider the gendered roles enforced by society. Harmful workplace culture, poor access to affordable childcare, the gender pay gap, and a lack of flexible work arrangements prevent women’s full participation in our workforce.

    Professor Lisa Harvey-Smith believes it's time to measure equity in science, technology, engineering and maths. Picture: Supplied

    Professor Lisa Harvey-Smith believes it’s time to measure equity in science, technology, engineering and maths. Picture: Supplied

    It’s important to add that gender is only one characteristic associated with under-representation in the STEM workforce, and a lack of action to support these cohorts is holding us back. Profound system-wide change is necessary to create truly safe and inclusive workplaces that ensure full participation in Australia’s STEM workforce.

    But it’s not all bad news. Equity in science, technology, engineering and maths is improving – but slowly, according to the Australia government’s STEM Equity Monitor. Between 2020 and 2021 the proportion of women in STEM-qualified jobs grew by two percentage points to 15 per cent. And 37 per cent of STEM university enrolments are women, up three points.

    Why is it important that we have women in STEM roles? Future careers in all sectors will rely heavily on STEM skills. But a lack of diversity means we have a limited workforce, and it’s missing a broad range of perspectives. You can’t create, build and implement solutions that benefit everybody if the people creating, building and implementing all look and think the same.

    So how can we speed this up and/or make sure women stay in STEM roles? Essentially, we need rigorous and well-resourced initiatives to reduce barriers to workforce participation. We need to know which of the hundreds of STEM equity programs across Australia are making a difference.

    That’s why we’ve created the STEM Equity Evaluation Portal, to enable everyone involved in STEM equity programs to assess and share what works and what doesn’t, helping other programs around the country.

    The free evaluation tool, created by researcher, science communicator and educator Dr Isabelle Kingsley, will help people assess their programs and share their findings, helping programs improve and scale-up, generating useful data, and helping other equity, diversity and inclusion programs around the country.

    Visit the Portal at: evaluation.womeninstem.org.au.


    Picture at top: Professor Lisa Harvey-Smith. Photo: Supplied

    The post STEM: It’s time to measure our impact appeared first on BroadAgenda.

    This post was originally published on BroadAgenda.

  • Given my interest in so-called masculine fields, such as math and science, I have always mostly been surrounded by men. When I got my first permanent contract with a bioscience institute, I was somewhat oblivious to how male-dominated the field was, and even felt thrilled to belong to the “male” majority that I had become used to. 

    My supervisors were men, as were many of the colleagues I was fortunate enough to work with. Working in this environment, I did not feel that gender was a big concern for me.

    However, within a year, I started noticing some interesting patterns. Whenever I pitched new ideas to my supervisors, I almost always convinced them, and I always at least felt that had confidence in my ideas.

    Interestingly, when I interacted with more junior colleagues, I felt the opposite. Some of them were highly motivated and attentive, but most of them did not pay attention to me and even outright ignored what I said. 

    As I spent more time with them, they were likely to brush away my ideas, concerns, and advice. I was frustrated and confused. I asked around to find solutions, but instead found that my male colleagues rarely encountered these problems. At that point, I was not entirely sure whether this had something to do with my gender.

    My personal experience in male-dominated, stereotypically masculine fields has not just taught me how to interact with people. It also opened my eyes to the trust problem faced by women with relatively high professional status: you may have brilliant ideas, but people still mistrust and doubt you. 

    Dr Eun Young (EY) Song is an organisation theorist whose research seeks to understand contemporary phenomena through examining historical precedents. Theoretically, EY investigates the way in which our actions are founded on and conditioned by the expectations of others, such as gender expectations and behavioural norms, and how such actions produce unintended outcomes at the organisational and social levels (image: Jamie Kidston/ANU).

    EY argues that society-wide efforts to weaken gender-status beliefs would be an effective way to help women gain others’ trust, especially in professional settings. Picture: Shutterstock

    In professional settings, trust is crucial. Lack of trust makes it harder to work with colleagues, clients and other stakeholders.

    Nevertheless, women are often less trusted by others – especially when they are in higher ranks, or hold high-status roles implying professional competence.

    Male patients undervalue advice from senior female doctors. Voters show less trust in high-profile female politicians, despite their long service records. 

    The common thread between these examples and my own experience is that people have less confidence in women whose professional standing is higher than theirs.

    So far, academic and non-academic literature on this trust problem has focused on individual-level factors (e.g., individual gender biases) and therefore proposed individual-oriented solutions. 

    Many of these solutions focus on how women can behave differently, for example by adopting new leadership styles and developing communication skills – implying that they are the ones who need to change to solve the problem. 

    Of course, such solutions would probably have some effect. However, they unfortunately neglect “gender-status beliefs”: the widely-held cultural beliefs about a social hierarchy of gender, involving expectations about men’s greater competence and suitability for authority and power. 

    Such beliefs shape individual biases and influence people’s evaluation of higher-status women. Women of higher professional standing signal their professional competence, which conflicts with cultural beliefs about women’s lack of competence. 

    This perceived incongruence, or “gender-status mismatch”, leads people to place less trust in what these women say. In other words, the trust problem many women face is in fact a product of these gender-status beliefs. Mistrusting high-status women is a way to counteract the perceived mismatch.

    Once you acknowledge how deeply gender-status beliefs are ingrained in society, you may wonder how effective individualistic solutions could be. In my own experience, despite making a series of changes – from my supervision style to the communication platforms I used – I regrettably continued to face the same trust problem. Now I feel that I have some explanations for the mistrust that I have faced for so many years. 

    Society-wide efforts to weaken gender-status beliefs would be a more effective way to help women gain others’ trust, especially in professional settings. 

    • Picture at top: Dr Eun Young (EY) Song: Image: Jamie Kidston/ANU).

    The post Fixing senior women’s perceived lack of trust appeared first on BroadAgenda.

    This post was originally published on BroadAgenda.

  • By: TONI PRECKWINKLE 

    America’s history around race and inequality is a painful one and is still being felt today. As a Black woman, I have felt this pain personally; and as an elected official in Illinois, I am committed to fighting back against the remnants of racist policies. At the forefront of our fight for racial justice, we are launching a guaranteed income program in our county to help folks struggling to make ends meet, and I call on my colleagues in the federal government to join me.

    From slavery to internment camps to redlining, our Black, brown, and immigrant neighbors have time and time again endured government-sponsored oppression. And despite the “bootstraps” narratives and meritocracy myths imposed on all of us from an early age, these injustices have made it more difficult for Black and brown Americans to achieve financial freedom today.

    No matter how you cut it—in terms of household wealth, homeownership, access to credit, the list goes on—available data shows that our Black and brown citizens start their lives with less money and face more barriers to building wealth in the long-term. This is a direct consequence of the policies and actions of government throughout our history, and as government leaders, we have a special duty to right the wrongs of discriminatory policies that have sown seeds of disunity and undermined the great potential of our nation.

    A guaranteed income is our opportunity to fulfill that duty.

    The results of direct cash programs speak for themselves. With a stable financial foundation, participants in local pilot programs are empowered to take care of their families, pursue education, and find better employment. And because the hierarchies of wealth and inequality have been drawn by racial lines throughout our history, our Black and brown residents have been shown to benefit disproportionately.

    With more stability, folks have the freedom to set personal goals, take risks, and even start businesses. Across the board, a guaranteed income leads to better health and educational outcomes for participants and their households.

    To put it plainly—it makes people’s lives better.

    For our part, Cook County is proud to be leading the way for government in the American guaranteed income movement. With a $42 million initial investment, our Promise Pilot is the largest publicly-funded initiative of its kind in American history, and we aim to show the nation what guaranteed income at scale can achieve.

    The name of our pilot was chosen purposefully. The word “promise” reflects an understanding of broken promises of the past, and our intention to right those wrongs for the future. We also know that this program will allow residents to reach their promise, their potential to thrive and live meaningful lives.

    Lastly, the program I’m writing about today is a pilot, but we’re not interested in temporary or short-term solutions to the glaring issues of racial and income inequality. Our promise to Cook County residents is to make this program permanent in the years to come. We believe that decades of research justify it and that the results of our program will demand it—just as they have in other guaranteed income pilots across the country.

    But in the end, participants in pilot and local programs only represent a fraction of residents who can benefit from a guaranteed income. Over 200,000 Cook County residents applied for our first round of funding, yet we can only serve 3,250 of them with this historic investment. That’s why action from the federal government, a promise to our residents from coast to coast, is necessary to achieve our goal of righting the wrongs of history—of creating a more just and equitable world for all of us.

    I call on Congress to follow the lead of local governments across the country. If we want to ensure a stable future for all our citizens, a guaranteed income for everyone who needs it represents the best path forward.

    Now it’s our turn to make history.

    ____________________________________

    Toni Preckwinkle is president of the Cook County Board of Commissioners

    This post was originally published on Basic Income Today.

  • Tory MP Kemi Badenoch keeps coming back to government, despite numerous controversies. But her reappointment as equalities minister is deeply worrying – not least for the LGBTQIA+ community.

    Badenoch: multiple jobs and multiple controversies

    As the Canary‘s Maryam Jameela previously wrote, Badenoch:

    has made a name for herself in the right wing-manufactured culture war by railing against critical race theory. She also attacked journalist Nadine White, who is the first dedicated race correspondent at the Independent.

    In 2019, Badenoch dismissed the #MeToo movement, saying that:

    When I look at a lot of the stuff that you see on social media about how – I think it’s a generational thing as well – younger people look at appropriate behaviour and what is a sexual advance, what is sexual harassment and so on, to me, it’s actually becoming a lot more puritanical than anything I ever saw in my 20s or in my teens.

    However, Badenoch’s views on LGBTIA+ people are particularly noxious. She’s already hit out in parliament at Pink News CEO Benjamin Cohen – after he posted a Twitter thread outlining her particularly unpleasant views on LGBTQIA+ people. Badenoch said:

    We are running a compassionate equalities strategy and we should nor be distracted by people who use Twitter as a way to insult or accuse members of parliament.

    Naturally, Badenoch’s claim of a “compassionate equalities strategy” is demonstrable bullshit if you base it on her opinions on LGBTQIA+ people.

    Anti-LGBTQIA+ comments

    Back in 2019, Badenoch abstained on the North of Ireland same-sex marriage vote. In 2020, she had an “introductory meeting” with anti-trans campaign group the LGB Alliance. As openDemocracy wrote, the Lib Dems hit back hard, saying the LGB Alliance:

    pursuing a single-minded vendetta against trans people [which] presents a real and active danger to the mental and physical safety of trans people, which is vastly exacerbated when those in authority lend them credibility.

    However, her most offensive views were in private – or so she thought, until an apparent recording was leaked to Vice.

    Queer Insider reported that the equalities minister was recorded in 2018 saying:

    It’s no longer about minority rights in terms of race any more or nationality,” Badenoch can be heard saying, “it’s now, you know like, it’s not even about sexuality now, it’s now like the whole transgender movement, where, OK well we’ve got gay marriage, and civil partnerships, so what are transsexuals looking for?

    Even when, you know, so, people hear about, you know like the whole bathroom thing, it’s actually more of an American thing but they have a similar problem, that, right so now it’s not just about being free to marry who you want, you now want to have men using women’s bathrooms.

    The LGBT+ Liberal Democrats group dragged Badenoch, saying her meeting with the LGB Alliance:

    displays an appalling lack of understanding of the issues at best; at worst, it is crass, offensive and possibly evidence of a bias against trans people that should render the minister unfit to make any judgements or decisions on the subject.

    Badenoch as equalities minister? Normal island again.

    In a functioning society, Badenoch’s status as an MP would be questioned. But this is the UK. So, new PM Rishi Sunak appointed her as equalities minister. This makes Badenoch the person in government directly responsible for trans rights.

    So, same-sex marriage appears to be unpalatable for Badenoch, and her comment about “men using women’s bathrooms” is potentially unlawful under the Equality Act 2010. Not that this matters to her – anti-LGBTQIA+ discrimination is clearly all in a day’s work for the new equalities minister. The community now faces a very real threat – coming directly from a government charged to protect it.

    Featured image via screenshot -YouTube/Independent

    By Steve Topple

    This post was originally published on Canary.

  •  

    In Old Parliament House, Canberra, (now the Museum of Australian Democracy), there’s an exhibition called Australian Women Changemakers. Along with the new crop of brilliant young changemakers such as Grace Tame, Kenyan-Australian refugee advocate, Nyadol Nyuon, and First Nations activist, Megan Davis, the exhibition also acknowledges the contributions of Australia’s second-wave feminists of the 1960s to 1980s – women like Anne Summers, Quentin Bryce and Elizabeth Reid. 

    Recently, Ginger Gorman, host of the Australian Academy of Social Sciences “Seriously Social” podcast, took Elizabeth Reid back to Old Parliament House to mark two “golden anniversaries”; 50 years since the election of Gough Whitlam in 1972, and the podcast’s 50th episode.

     

    In 1973, Prime Minister Gough Whitlam appointed Reid as the world’s first advisor on women’s affairs to a head of government. This was remarkable at a time when not a single member of Australia’s 125 seat parliament was female.

    There may have been no female MPs in 1973, but Reid had an ally on the inside. Her old school friend, Caroline Summerhayes, was Whitlam’s secretary. Summerhayes provided barometric readings of Whitlam’s moods; predicting whether the reception to Reid’s feminist advice was likely to be fine or stormy.

    “Oh stay away. He’s in a foul mood!” Summerhayes would warn, or, “Yes, slip in. He’s in a good mood.” It is such small, but important, intel that greases the wheels of bureaucracy.

    Born, the daughter of active trade-unionists and advocates for educational reforms, Elizabeth Reid was an academic and part of the Women’s Liberation Movement when Whitlam first advertised for an advisor on women’s affairs.

    “I think it’s important to realise that we hadn’t ever been on the inside,” she says.

    “Of course there were women in bureaucracies, but they hadn’t gone into bureaucracies to bring about changes for women … [whereas] we set out to end patriarchy, to destroy sexism.”

    Prime Minister Gough Whitlam discusses International Women's Year with two members of the National Advisory Committee, Ms. Elizabeth Reid and the Secretary of the Australian Government's Department of the Media, Mr. James Oswin. Source: National Library of Australia obj-137047143

    Prime Minister Gough Whitlam discusses International Women’s Year with two members of the National Advisory Committee, Ms. Elizabeth Reid and the Secretary of the Australian Government’s Department of the Media, Mr. James Oswin. Source: National Library of Australia obj-137047143

    During the 70s, these kinds of feminist/bureaucrats became known as “femocrats”.

    Ironically, within the Women’s Liberation Movement, there was a great deal of resistance to the idea of feminists working within the system. Women’s Liberation was a revolutionary movement and, to many, working within a patriarchal system was tantamount to sleeping with the enemy. 

    But, Reid reflects, “I felt it was a challenge to the Women’s Movement … Never in recorded history had a head of government said, ‘Well, come on. Come in. Tell us what needs to be done.’”

    “In effect, when Whitlam offered to open the halls of power to the Women’s Liberation Movement, he called our bluff.”

    Despite photos from the time showing a young Elizabeth Reid surrounded by white men in suits, she says it never occurred to her that she wouldn’t succeed. But she soon found “you have to be savvy” to work the halls of power. 

    And, while still facing staunch resistance from within organised feminism, Reid’s mission was bolstered by a tsunami of correspondence from ordinary Australian women who felt, at last, there was someone in Parliament who might hear their voices. 

    “It was as if a wellspring opened up,” she says. “Many of these women would say, “I’ve been writing for years and nobody has done anything about it. But at last I feel there’s somebody there who can do something.”

    Reid responded to concerns that a single individual could not adequately represent the diversity of Australian women by spending the first year of her appointment travelling the country and listening to as many diverse female voices as possible. This, combined with the influx of correspondence, gave her a sense of the issues “that were really gnawing away at women’s spirit and souls.” 

    In Reid’s view, the “reform vs revolution” debate set up a false dichotomy; her aim was to work within the system to achieve reforms, while instilling a “revolutionary consciousness” at the heart of Australian democracy.

    At that time, single women were refused bank loans or mortgages without a male guarantor. Married women, temporarily unemployed, weren’t eligible for unemployment benefits. Widows received five-eights of the pension while widowers received full pensions. Women returning to Australia from overseas with their husbands, were not permitted to fill in their own quarantine and customs declaration. But always, at the forefront of Reid’s activism, was the recognition that the multifarious barriers faced by women sprang from a patriarchal system and culture.

    She says, “My focus was on getting Whitlam to understand what changes we wanted, and to understand that no single change was ever going to be sufficient.” 

    A key achievement during Reid’s tenure was the introduction of maternity leave to the Commonwealth Public Service. But, she singles out the establishment of the Royal Commission on Human Relationships (1974-1978) as the culmination of the “revolutionary consciousness” that she, and other feminists, determined was vital to driving structural and cultural change.

     

    Watch the full interview on Youtube.

    “That was a groundbreaking and controversial commission,” Reid recalls. “It helped change public discussion around families, gender, sexuality and how marriage impacted a woman’s role in society.”

    Despite these successes, strident opposition, not only from anti-feminists, but from within her own movement, took a toll on Reid. After she resigned from her government position, she went abroad to work with women in developing countries and didn’t return to Australia until the 2000s – when at least some of the hatchets were buried.

    Revisiting her old workplace with Ginger Gorman, Reid reflects upon a time when Australian democracy was at its zenith: when there was a genuine commitment to structural change; when cross-party friendships and co-operation were commonplace, and; when Australians (even minorities) felt their voices were being heard by their political leaders.

    Standing near the desk from which sixteen former prime ministers ran the country, Reid says, “In Australia, over the past couple of decades, I think we’ve been backsliding in our democratic traditions. I think this – this building – is a very good reminder that we once had sets of values that are very different from those we’ve been living with in recent years.”

    Elizabeth Reid will be delivering the Academy of the Social Sciences in Australia’s Cunningham Lecture on Tuesday 29 November at their Democracy Symposium.  Reid’s will speech will be: “Protests and Democracy, Now and Then”?

    Picture at top: Elizabeth sits in Canberra’s Old Parliament House in Whitlam’s former office. Photo: Ginger Gorman 

    The post The revolutionary in Whitlam’s Government who fought for women appeared first on BroadAgenda.

    This post was originally published on BroadAgenda.

  • This article was inspired by a talk given by Dr Chay Brown for ANU’s Centre for Aboriginal and Economic Policy Research, where she is a fellow. 

    At the start of the pandemic, I was returning home from presenting my research about violence against women in the Northern Territory at an international conference in Edinburgh.

    I was travelling with my mother – a visually impaired and deaf woman who is a survivor of violence – and we made it back into the country a day before the borders closed. My mother became sick on the plane. We landed at Sydney international airport and immediately reported to health officials, who simply advised us to get on the next plane to our home, Alice Springs, where she could isolate in her home.

    At that time, several Aboriginal community-controlled organisations in Alice Springs successfully lobbied the Northern Territory Government to close the Northern Territory’s borders. Once again, my mother and I raced home with only a day to spare before the borders closed, and two days later, I gave my final oral presentation before submitting my doctoral thesis about what works to prevent violence against women in the Northern Territory.

    The day after, the lockdowns were announced. I remember my feelings of frustration and fear as government officials and public health officials made announcements and introduced public health measures, none of which recognized the increasing risk to women and children experiencing violence.

    My mother did not have COVID at that time, but I remember her saying to me “If this [lockdowns] had been several years ago, it would have been the end of us.”

    A smoking ceremony at a the start of a strategic retreat with Tangentyere Women's Family Safety Group (TWFSG) at Ross River. This retreat was about developing future pathways and work for TWFSG. Chay attended to collect data for her doctoral research. Picture: Supplied

    A smoking ceremony at a the start of a strategic retreat with Tangentyere Women’s Family Safety Group (TWFSG) at Ross River. This retreat was about developing future pathways and work for TWFSG. Chay attended to collect data for her doctoral research. Picture: Supplied

    No one enjoyed the lockdowns, but for many women and children all around the world, they were unsurvivable.

    Violence against women, often referred to by its most common forms of domestic, family, and sexual violence, is a problem that transcends geographic, social, and cultural boundaries. In Australia, 1 in 3 women experience physical violence and 1 in 5 experience sexual violence from the age of 15.

    Women most commonly experience violence at the hands of a current or former male partner, and on average, one woman is killed each week. In the Northern Territory, these rates are higher and disproportionately impact Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander women. 63% of assaults in the Northern Territory are related to domestic and family violence, and women make up 63% of the victims.

    This differs from other jurisdictions (and other contexts around the world) where usually men make up the majority  of assault victims, and reflects the Northern Territory’s high rates of domestic, family and sexual violence. No matter the gender of the victim, violence is overwhelmingly perpetrated by men, and domestic, family, and sexual violence is most commonly perpetrated by men against women and children.

    The Northern Territory has the highest rates of domestic family and sexual violence in Australia, including in severity, with weapons being used in 2 of every 5 assaults. Domestic family and sexual violence in the Northern Territory is double that of Western Australia, three times that of South Australia, and more than five times that of other jurisdictions.

    However, all of this data only reflects that which has been reported and likely only represents the most severe of cases, as globally less than 40% of violence against women is ever reported. Data on violence against women in Australia, and particularly in the Northern Territory, is flawed and overly reliant on administrative data from police and services, which does not and cannot capture the full picture of violence against women.

    The problem of violence against women was high and severe prior to the pandemic, but public health measures designed to curb the spread of COVID-19 exacerbated the gendered drivers of violence and introduced risk factors, leading to increases in violence against women throughout the world – leading to it being labelled ‘the shadow pandemic’.

    In Brazil, there was an estimated 40-50% increase in domestic violence. In Cyprus, calls to the domestic violence helpline rose by 30%. Domestic violence reports in China tripled during the pandemic. In other areas, such as Italy and Argentina, calls to helplines dropped sharply – but messages, emails, whatsapp increased. Family violence reports in Victoria were the highest on record, up by 6.6% in the first year of the pandemic. In the Northern Territory, reported domestic, family and sexual violence increased by 25%.

    These widespread increases were predicted by experts in the field, yet ignored. I myself wrote and spoke extensively at the beginning of the pandemic about the increasing risk to women and children during this time, but it would not be until much later that ‘escaping family violence’ was included as one of the five reasons people could leave their home during lockdowns.

    However, even this response is flawed and ignorant of family violence as a the highly controlling pattern of abuse, power and domination.

    Paintings done in a workshop with the Tangentyere Women's Family Safety Group (TWFSG). These paintings are the women's reflections on what a future free from violence would look like. Picture: Supplied

    Paintings done in a workshop with the Tangentyere Women’s Family Safety Group (TWFSG). These paintings are the women’s reflections on what a future free from violence would look like. Picture: Supplied

    So why did violence against women increase during the pandemic?

    Not only did violence against women increase during the pandemic, but it often intensified and became more complex. For example, users of violence often made use of public health messaging to limit women and children’s movements, control their healthcare decisions, and/or used misinformation about COVID or vaccinations to further control women and children.

    Frontline services also reported that women and children presented with more complex needs, for example, requiring assistance with food insecurity in addition to assistance with domestic, family, and sexual violence.

    Despite the increasing complexity, frequency, and severity of violence against women during the pandemic, frontline services responded creatively and innovatively. In my home of Central Australia, Aboriginal community-controlled organisations assisted Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people to ‘return to country’ where bio-security measures where introduced to limit the spread of COVID-19.

    Specialist domestic, family and sexual violence services, themselves severely impacted by the pandemic and public health measures, pivoted and adapted to deliver services in extremely remote locations. The Tangentyere Council Men’s Behaviour Change Program began delivering individual sessions with users of violence, including over the phone, to maintain engagement and monitor the risk men posed to their partners and children.

    NPY Women’s Council delivered weaving materials to women in quarantine to continue engagement and support, and even charted flights to evacuate women experiencing violence from remote locations. Katherine Women’s Legal Service (KWILS) delivered ‘women’s business’ bags to women in lockdown in Aboriginal communities and Town Camps that included safety planning tips and service contact details. However, all of these creative and innovative responses were in spite of extremely limited resources, funding, and support.

    Participants at an Alice Springs workshop to develop the Northern Territory prevention framework 'Hopeful, Together, Strong' - this was the final product of my doctoral research. 'Hopeful, Together, Strong' is a framework of principles and indicators to describe good practice to prevent violence against women in the Northern Territory. In the pictures, the participants are ranking principles that were identified through my research with TWFSG and other programs in the Northern Territory.

    Participants at an Alice Springs workshop to develop the Northern Territory prevention framework ‘Hopeful, Together, Strong’ – this was the final product of my doctoral research. ‘Hopeful, Together, Strong’ is a framework of principles and indicators to describe good practice to prevent violence against women in the Northern Territory. In the pictures, the participants are ranking principles that were identified through my research with TWFSG and other programs in the Northern Territory. Picture: Supplied

    Now as the World Health Organisation signals that the end of the COVID-19 pandemic is in sight, where to for the shadow pandemic? There is no end in sight for the pandemic of violence against women. Violence against women in the Northern Territory continues to dramatically rise. We should have learned during the COVID-19 pandemic, that our policy responses must:

    1) be informed by accurate data

    2) apply a gender lens

    3) apply a ‘DV lens’ and considered the way our policy and programmatic responses may impact domestic, family, and sexual violence survivors and 4) consider the impact on historically marginalized people, and in low-resource settings, such as Central Australia.

    We should have learned these things, but I’m not sure we have. My mother and I made it home safely. We survived the COVID-19 pandemic, just as we survived domestic, family and sexual violence. But many other women and children did not.

    • Feature image: A painting done in he Tangentyere Women’s Family Safety Group (TWFSG). TWFSG was a key partner in Chay’s research about what works to prevent violence against women in the Northern Territory. These paintings are the women’s reflections on what a future free from violence would look like. Picture: Supplied

    The post Violence against First Nations women, children during COVID-19 appeared first on BroadAgenda.

    This post was originally published on BroadAgenda.

  • By: Chau Lam

    As New York City slowly emerges from the havoc wreaked by the COVID-19 pandemic that brought to light vast inequities in the five boroughs, former City Hall officials, heads of nonprofit organizations, and business and labor leaders are pitching their ideas on policy changes they say will build a more equitable city.

    In a report released Wednesday by the Center for an Urban Future that was exclusively shared with Gothamist, the public policy think tank asked 150 industry leaders “to contribute a single policy idea that would expand economic opportunity for all, strengthen social infrastructure in communities across the five boroughs, and build a more equitable city.”

    The ideas range from big tasks that would involve funding from the city to smaller, artistic endeavors. Among the ideas are proposals to expand health care services — from increasing accessibility through mobile health units and access to birthing resources— to measures that would bolster the city’s safety net systems for some of the most disadvantaged.

    “The report provides a roadmap for how the city can close the troubling inequalities that still exist across New York, and also help far more New Yorkers get on the path to a better, more prosperous life,” said Jonathan Bowles, the think tank’s executive director.

    Bowles added that the report would be the focal point of a symposium the think tank is hosting on Monday, Oct. 3, where City Council Speaker Adrienne Adams, Deputy Mayor of Strategic Initiatives Sheena Wright, and Manhattan Borough President Mark Levine are slated to speak.

    While there aren’t estimates for how much each proposal could cost to implement, the Center for an Urban Future plans to narrow down the focus of its report and identify the price tag of certain ideas and how to practically implement them, Bowles said.

    A spokesperson for Mayor Eric Adams did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

    Here are four takeaways from the 89-page report:

    Expand mobile health units

    A former top health official under Mayor Bill de Blasio argues that the Adams administration should expand a pandemic-spurred program that dispatched mobile health teams into areas where vulnerable New Yorkers, like people who are homeless, gather.

    Melanie Hartzog, the former deputy mayor for health and human services who’s now president of the New York Foundling — one of the city’s largest child welfare organizations — said the initiative from the previous mayor resulted in 5,000 vaccinations administered, 9,000 medical consultations and the distribution of 1,000 Narcan kits that help reverse the effects of an opioid overdose in 2021.

    Most vulnerable New Yorkers – such as homeless individuals living in public places – do not have access to preventative health care, a problem that Hartzog said has led to alarming rates of chronic disease, lower life expectancy, and disproportionate impacts from COVID-19.

    “The initiative hit on a successful way to reach the hardest-to-serve New Yorkers, but so far it has only been rolled out to a small handful of neighborhoods. It’s time to expand the program and bring preventative care to far more New Yorkers,” Hartzog said in the report.

    “It was successful because we were able to meet immediate needs right then and there,” Hartzog said in an interview. “We wanted to stack as much intervention services that we could right then and there in the moment to support that individual. And particularly with the street homeless, if you can’t really provide the then and there, it’s very hard to engage.”

    Expand doula support

    Black women are eight times more likely than white women to die from pregnancy-related causes, according to a 2019 city report.

    The answer to this problem is more doulas — essentially birthing coaches who guide mothers through labor and afterward — said Toya Williford, a trained doula and a former executive director of the Mayor’s Fund to Advance New York City.

    According to the city report, the care provided by doulas was linked to lower rates of cesarean birth, preterm birth, low birth weight, and postpartum depression.

    “Evidence has shown that having labor support can help reduce unnecessary medical interventions,” said Williford.

    “Evidence has also shown that having labor support allows women to not only have the birth that is best for them, but again decreases the unnecessary medical intervention that can lead to adverse birth outcomes.”

    Earlier this month, Adams signed a City Council-led proposal into law that codifies a health department program to train doulas and provide their services to residents in marginalized communities across the city in an effort to lower maternal mortality rates among Black women.

    Maternal mortality among Black women has been a topic close to the mayor, who campaigned on a plan to offer doulas to all first-time mothers in New York City following the deaths of Amber Rose Isaac and Sha-asia Washington, two 26-year-old Black women who died during delivery in 2020. Their deaths ignited calls for scrutiny on how the health care system treats Black women.

    Although the Adams administration is taking steps to broaden access to doulas by turning the health department initiative into law, Willford said the city should expand the program to all women giving birth in the city’s public hospitals.

    To ensure newborns get a good start in life, Williford also recommends the city create a CUNY certificate program to increase the number of doulas and make sure every public hospital has well-paid doulas on call.

    The city’s health department did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

    Open Summer Youth Program to Undocumented Youth

    The mayor has repeatedly touted the city’s summer youth program, which provides jobs to people ages 14 through 24, as a deterrent from getting into trouble.

    The goal of the program, the mayor said in July, was not to wait until “young people fall in the river of despair” and for the city to spend “countless” dollars and resources after the fact “ but to go upstream and provide them the services that they deserve.”

    A record 100,000 young people participated in the program this past summer, Adams said in July as he was announcing additional funding for the program.

    Brian Cohen, executive director of Beam Center, an educational nonprofit based in Brooklyn, argues that the program should be opened to undocumented young people, who are otherwise shut out of typical employment because they lack social security numbers or work authorization.

    “Many young people in the city, whether they’re undocumented or not, are contributing to their families’ economic stability,” said Cohen. “And therefore, having them paid for certain learning experiences is a way of keeping them on track in their education.”

    There are an estimated 835,000 undocumented people in New York state and 14% are between the ages of 16 to 24, according to the Migration Policy Institute.

    To make paid summer internships more accessible to undocumented teens, Cohen said the city should establish a system using tax IDs, which are issued regardless of immigration status. He said such a system would allow undocumented individuals to take part in internships while also being paid for their labor.

    Universal basic income

    The idea is straightforward: provide cash to people in need.

    Andrew Yang made universal basic income a tenet of his presidential campaign in 2020, and carried it over into his 2021 bid for New York City mayor, where he proposed giving New Yorkers living in “extreme poverty” an average of $2,000 a year.

    While dozens of pilot programs have sprung up in recent years, including in Los Angeles, Saroya Friedman-Gonzalez, the executive director of New Yorkers for Children, which works with youths who age out of the foster care system, says New York City should launch a universal basic income program for young people aging out of foster care.

    “They’re hitting a cliff. If we could provide cash support, this could really stabilize their lives and allow young people to step out of poverty,” Friedman-Gonzalez said.

    Only half of the youths in foster care find work by the time they reach 24 and 20% experience homelessness as soon as they age out of foster care, Friedman-Gonzalez said in the report.

    Her organization, along with a few other nonprofits, tested out the idea during the pandemic’s early stages. Her organization gave $800,000 cash payments to young adults and families in 2020, money that went to food, rent, and childcare.

    This post was originally published on Basic Income Today.

  • Former Channel 4 Editor at Large Dorothy Byrne says lazy generalisations can make women feel disempowered and undermine their ambitions. She gave this speech at the recent national Women in Media conference on the Gold Coast. It’s published here with full permission. Read the original here

    I’m thrilled to be here among you at the conference of an organisation I admire very much for the support it gives women in the media. Organisations like yours are vital for women. I come here to bring you my personal perspective on what I feel are the key issues for women in journalism today. I’ve been a journalist for 46 years and I’m convinced these are great times to be a woman journalist.

    When I started out on a local paper, the number of women going to work in newspapers in the UK was slightly greater than the number of men.But, over the years women fell by the wayside until women were in the minority, to a significant degree, for a variety of reasons. In my early days, all the most important jobs were held by men.

    ‘I had no role models’

    Indeed, on my first paper the sexism was so bad that only men were allowed to cover major crimes. As a woman, if there was a murder, I was permitted only to interview the relatives of the victims while the male journalists got to investigate the murder itself. That lack of opportunity hampered the career development of women but the fact that the key roles on the paper were all held by men also restricted our ambition.

    I ended up as the Head of News and Current Affairs at one of the UK’s main public service broadcasters. That young woman of 24 on the Walthamstow Guardian in East London would never have dreamt such a thing could be possible. I had no role models. But today in the UK things are very different.

    Women starting out today can aim for the top

    The new head of news and current affairs at Channel Four Television, who replaced me, is a woman. The editor of Channel Four News is a woman and the editor of Channel Four’s main investigative current affairs programme is a woman. The chief executive of Independent Television News which makes news for both ITV and Channel Five is a woman as was her predecessor.

    And finally, the Head of BBC News is a woman as was her predecessor. So a young woman starting out in journalism today knows she can aim for the very top and get there.

    That is a big change but of course, there are huge barriers for women.

    Motherhood and the menopause

    Still too many women are dropping out of journalism at different stages in their careers.

    One of the key reasons is that work in many newsrooms and programmes is incompatible with motherhood but today I will also highlight an issue now at the forefront of debate among women journalists in the UK; the menopause.

    If you take away only one thing from my talk today, please take away the need for women journalists to lead the discussion in Australia about the menopause. As women journalists, we did that in the UK and it was so transformational that this year Britain ran out of one of the most popular forms of HRT.

    But first things first; the dire state of maternity rights and childcare in the UK. Of course, poor maternity rights have always been a major barrier for women but there is a specific issue making it worse for female journalists at the present time.

    A ‘physically overwhelming’ longing

    In the UK good maternity rights are tied to staff jobs but more and more jobs in journalism are freelance so fewer and fewer women journalists get proper maternity pay.

    I myself was freelance when I had a baby as a single parent. As such, I was entitled only to basic state maternity pay which was not nearly enough to pay even a percentage of my mortgage. So I had to go back to work when my child was less than six weeks old.

    It was terrible.

    My longing for my baby would be so physically overwhelming at times that I had to ring her nanny and tell her to bring my daughter to the office as a matter of urgency just so I could hold her.

    Too many women face a tough choice

    But note, I delayed having a baby until I could afford a live-in nanny. I was lucky to get pregnant at 45, once my career was established.

    Too many young women today feel they have to choose between building their careers or having a baby in their late 20s and early 30s when their statistical chance of getting pregnant is higher than when they are in their late 30s or early 40s.

    This issue is not talked about nearly enough because young women fear that if they talk about their desire to have a baby, it will affect their promotional opportunities.

    Dorothy Byrne has been a journalist for 46 years. Photo: Emma Brasier.

    Dorothy Byrne has been a journalist for 46 years. Photo: Emma Brasier.

    A number of young women journalists have told me that they really want to have a baby soon but feel they just can’t afford it both financially and in terms of their career opportunities. They have asked me not to tell anyone about the conversation I have had with them because they fear it would prejudice their chances of promotion.

    That is scandalous and deeply depressing.

    Paying ‘lip service’ to flexible working

    I think older women should encourage open discussion of issues around fertility, pregnancy, and childcare in newsrooms to signal to young women that in a good organisation their right to have a child will not damage their career. Similarly, we need as women to insist major employers have proper policies on returning to work.

    Women in the UK are campaigning for proper statutory maternity and paternity pay for all women, not linked to a staff job, as a right. Until we have that, there will be no equality in the workplace.

    And all employers need to examine their working practises and investigate whether their current shift patterns are really necessary.

    Too often employers pay lip service to the notion of flexible working but don’t ask themselves basic questions such as, ‘Does everyone on the early shift really have to turn up at the same time? Could we stagger our shift systems better?’

    My first day in television

    Big policies are great, small practical changes are better. Female journalists also continue to suffer harassment and assault at work both from bosses and colleagues AND from men they are interviewing.

    But here there is some improvement. When I started out on local papers, women spoke openly in the office about being sexually harassed by police officers.

    I am not aware of a single instance in which an editor complained to the police.

    On my first day in television, my female boss told me that a director would take me out to show me the basics of filmmaking – and that he would sexually assault me. But I was not to take it personally because he sexually assaulted all the women he worked with. Sure enough, he assaulted me but who could I complain to as I had been told by my manager to expect this?

    I don’t believe that would happen now at a major employer, although I think young women especially are still vulnerable because so many people now work in very small companies where there is much less protection. Employers should not send women to interview men with a reputation for assaulting women.

    Some men with known reputations for sexual assault and harassment are being interviewed purely to publicise their films, books or other enterprises. Media outlets should refuse to send anyone to interview men who are known to prey on female journalists.

    Now bigger employers have sexual harassment policies and women journalists, some well-known, have started to talk publicly about having been assaulted.

    But journalism in the UK awaits its #MeToo moment. There are leading men known to have harassed and assaulted women who still have high journalistic reputations.

    ‘You probably don’t remember me Dorothy’

    If just a few of those top names were exposed, it would make a big difference. It would make men think twice. I myself, when a program producer, was assaulted in my own home by a man who ran a production company we were doing business with.

    Later, when I had risen to become a senior program commissioner at Channel Four, he had the gall to turn up at a session I held for production companies. At the end of my presentation, he stood to ask a question and, with a leer on his face, said, ‘You probably don’t remember me Dorothy.’

    I said, ‘On the contrary, how could I forget a man who sexually assaulted me in my own home.’ The whole room glared at him and he sat down and shut up.

    We need to warn such men. Tonight, you may see a woman as your victim, but she could be your boss tomorrow.

    It’s not for me to tell Australian broadcasters what to do but I can talk about my own country.

    In the UK broadcasters lay down a range of requirements for production companies supplying programs to them and I think they should include a clause stating that any production company proven to have tolerated or covered up sexual harassment would automatically be in potential breach of contract.

    But those are the negatives.

    My fear for women journalists now is also that we are not being sufficiently positive and that we may therefore inadvertently put off young women from entering journalism by failing to emphasise what a brilliant and exciting career it can be. We now expose the sexism women in the media face. That didn’t happen before.

    The wrongs done to us were accepted or relayed to each other in the evenings. They were not spoken out loud in the corridors of power by newsroom leaders. Now they are.

    But we also need to be careful to talk about what’s great about being a woman in the media. I am now the President of Murray Edwards College at Cambridge University.

    It’s a women’s college and quite a number of students are interested in a media career. I encourage them. One of my first points is that I am still a working journalist at the age of 70.

    In the past year, I have been executive producer on an international series about the sexual predator Ghislaine Maxwell, a major documentary on the Russian dissident Navalny and an expose of sex abuse in the Falkland Islands. I am currently working on a major series on Kevin Spacey.

    ‘I don’t think I will ever retire

    Almost all my friends in other professions retired several years ago. Some went into highly lucrative jobs in the City of London after university. They retired as soon as they possibly could. Most doctors and teachers I know retired early, in their mid-50s. In contrast, I don’t think I will ever retire as a journalist. Why would I?

    To be a journalist is to have the opportunity to explore the great experiences life has to offer and to expose the bad ones.

    Conference delegates applaud Dorthy Byrne. Photo: Emma Brasier.

    Conference delegates applaud Dorthy Byrne. Photo: Emma Brasier.

    Better rights for women

    To be a woman journalist is to have a wonderful opportunity to change lives for all women in society. In my career, some women have told me they don’t want to be pigeon-holed into being defined as someone who does so-called women’s stories.

    They want to be thought of as a journalist, not as a woman journalist. In fact, they shied away from doing so-called women’s stories. I get their point.

    I too don’t want to do just women’s stories. But I definitely want to use my role as a journalist to campaign for better rights for women.

    Telling women’s stories

    The first film I produced and directed was about rape in marriage, then not a crime in the UK. Husbands could be charged only with causing injury during the rape. That film was part of a successful campaign, which changed the law.

    Over the years a significant part of my work has been about women and girls -rape, domestic violence, female genital mutilation, the denial of education, poor maternity care, and the mental health crisis among girls.

    That sounds like a grim list but it’s been thrilling to see how issues I have raised have been taken up in public and political debate; to have been part of making life better for women.

    This has been work which has brought me great fulfilment in my life. I’ve been proud to be thought of as a woman journalist.

    I would ask women who worry about being pigeon-holed if we don’t raise women’s issues, do you think men will do so? If we as women don’t tell women’s stories, those stories won’t be told at all.

    We should be sure we tell young women thinking about a career in the media that being a woman journalist is a magnificent thing. I also think that we need to be careful in our language not to put ourselves down as women.

    There are enough men who want to put us down; we don’t need to do it ourselves. Over the years, I have often been asked if I suffer from so-called imposter syndrome and even more often I’ve heard women say, ‘We all, as women suffer from imposter syndrome’.

    I say to them, speak for yourselves. If you have imposter syndrome, that’s fine. I respect your perspective on life.

    But I certainly DON’T have imposter syndrome. I’ve been a journalist for 46 years, for God’s Sake. Why would I have imposter syndrome? I’m the real deal.

    I feel the same objection when I hear people say, ‘Women lack confidence. Women are always putting themselves down.

    ‘Women aren’t pushy.’

    Do I seem to you like a woman who lacks confidence or puts herself down?

    I don’t seek to be pushy. But if you push me, I’ll push back.

    Lazy generalisations

    What people really mean is that women are statistically less likely to, for example, apply for jobs when they don’t have all the qualifications, speak up in meetings, ask for a pay rise.

    We should talk about those statistics and about how we can encourage women. But we shouldn’t confuse learned behaviour with the false notion that women are inherently so different to men. We are different to men but a lot of those differences are instilled in us by a sexist society.

    Lazy generalisations in sentences that begin with the words, ‘Women are… ‘ can end up making young women feel disempowered and undermine their ambitions.

    In my experience in journalism, women have taken longer to get to the top jobs than have men.

    Women need to support each other

    We have had to work harder to get to the same place as a man. I’ve told my own daughter that my single greatest piece of advice to her is, ‘Don’t work as hard as I have.’ We want talented young women to have the same fast track to the top that their male counterparts have benefited from.

    To do that we have to imbue them with a sense of self confidence, not emphasise their lack of confidence. Organisations like your own are vital. Women need to band together to support each other and campaign for equality.

    ‘These people are wrong’

    There is a view that women’s organisations are no longer needed. I lead a women’s college at Cambridge University now, as well as being a working journalist.

    As far as I am aware in the UK, there are only two all-female higher education institutions left; Murray Edwards College which I lead and another at Cambridge. People say to be that the idea of a women’s institution is outdated.

    But when they tell me that I always say, ‘Wow! Equality for women has been achieved and I missed it! I must have been locked in the toilet or out shopping or having my legs waxed. Who knew?’ Of course, these people are wrong.

    Same degree, different outcomes

    While the percentage of women entering higher education in the UK is now equal to the percentage of men and slightly greater in some years the percentage of women going on to further degrees is lower than the percentage of men.

    Statistically, women with the same degrees as men are likely to have less good jobs.

    It reminds me so much of my time starting out in journalism – equal numbers of women at the start – and the gradual attrition.

    As a women’s institution, we can campaign publicly about these issues, and highlight some of the reasons for this inequality. And that’s what a great organisation like yours does.

    We need to hold onto women’s organisations and encourage more. Thinking back, I would have benefited greatly if there had been an organisation for young women journalists when I started out.

    In defence of ‘women’s pages’

    I also think that all the newspapers which got rid of women’s pages should think again. Women still suffer from some specific hardships and prejudices.

    I am not confident that these issues are dealt with in general pages as well as they would be in a weekly women’s page.

    Dorothy Byrne sees value in women’s pages. Photo: Emma Brasier.

    Dorothy Byrne sees value in women’s pages. Photo: Emma Brasier.

    I used to turn first to the women’s pages in newspapers because I knew there would almost certainly be something there relevant to my life. In the UK, the Femail pages in the Daily Mail are really popular. Women’s Hour on the BBC is also hugely popular.

    And it never feels that it is excluding men; it raises issues that are of interest and concern to anyone interested in women and girls.

    Sexist remarks about older women at work

    When women journalists use their experience of being women, they can transform society. And I want to give you a brilliant and concrete example of this.

    Until a few years ago, the menopause was not recognised as being a major issue affecting women’s lives and careers in the UK. Women going through the menopause and suffering significantly didn’t dare talk about their problems at work for fear of prejudice.

    Some men made horrible sexist remarks about older women at work, generally in my experience because those women were better than they were. If an older woman criticised a man, he would scoff to his friends, ‘It’s her hormones!’

    A ‘proud old lady’

    Companies which had good maternity policies had no policies about the menopause at all. Three years ago, at the Edinburgh Television Festival, I made a major speech in which I highlighted the problems I myself had experienced with the menopause.

    I made a deliberate decision to use my experiences to speak out. I introduced myself in the speech as a proud ‘old lady’ and described how my kindly male boss sent me home because I had a ‘fever’ when all I had was hot flushes.

    He clearly didn’t recognise a hot flush and I was too embarrassed to put him right. I named him in my talk. I won’t do so again because he’s suffered enough.

    ‘The menopause’

    He certainly knows about the menopause now.

    I then gave statistics for the number of women who had considered giving up work because of the menopause – government statistics at the time indicated that about a quarter of women had considered giving up their jobs because of their symptoms.

    Somewhat to my surprise I admit, just mentioning the menopause gained huge publicity. Soon afterwards, Channel Four became the first British broadcaster to have a comprehensive menopause policy.

    One of my last acts before leaving Channel Four was to commission a film about the menopause presented by the popular presenter, formerly presenter of Big Brother in the UK, Davina McCall who admitted her own problems when she went through early menopause.

    Some in my office said the program would get poor ratings as only older women would watch it.

    Suddenly everyone was talking about it

    I pointed out that there are an awful lot of older women.

    In the event, it gained a good audience and a follow-up program was also commissioned.

    These programs told the British public the facts about the effects of the menopause.

    A survey for Channel Four and the Fawcett Society revealed that 77% of women had experienced one or more symptoms of the menopause they described as very difficult. Forty-four per cent said their ability to work had been affected. A tenth employed during the menopause had left work due to the symptoms. Fourteen per cent had reduced hours or gone part-time and 8% said menopausal symptoms had prevented them from applying for promotion.

    Suddenly, everyone started discussing the menopause – men and women – and more companies instituted policies that included training for all staff, medical advice sessions and women being given the right to work less if they felt unwell.

    All long overdue.

    ‘Who’s to blame for this?’

    The fact that women have babies was recognised in employment legislation decades ago.

    The fact they stop having babies and their bodies change was not mentioned. A major portion of both programs was devoted to giving the facts on HRT – revealing that many women were given poor or erroneous information by doctors whose own knowledge was way out of date.

    As a result, there has been a huge surge in demand for HRT by women no longer prepared to be fobbed off and told, ‘It’s natural so you have to live through it,’ or even more offensively, being put on inappropriate anti-depressants. Indeed, this year, one of the most popular forms of HRT started to run out in Britain. As it happens, it’s the form I use.

    I got really angry one day when I was told that no pharmacy near me had any and exclaimed inwardly, ’Who’s to blame for this?’ Then I realised it was me.

    Power to prompt change

    I am pleased to say the crisis has now eased and supplies are coming through again.

    I go into some detail about this because I believe the menopause is a major reason older women are leaving the workplace. In the UK, it was because women journalists, using their own personal experience, exposed the issue that women across the country rose up and demanded both HRT and proper policies.

    I think it’s a great example of the power for change we have as women journalists if we band together and speak out. We should expose the negatives but we should also shout loudly about our successes.

    I’ve been told about some of the exciting plans for your brilliant organisation and I will follow your progress with great interest.

    I just wish my 24-year-old self had known a great bunch of women like you.

    This is an edited version of Dorothy Byrne’s address to the 2022 Women in Media national conference.

    • Feature image at top: Dorothy Byrne addresses delegates at the national conference. Photo: Meg Keene.

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  • Analysis of capitalist property relations, culture, and transphobia.

    This post was originally published on Real Progressives.

  • On Sept. 16, 2022, Mahsa Amini, a 22-year-old Iranian woman, died in Tehran, Iran, while in police custody. Amini was arrested by the Guidance Patrol, the morality squad of the Law Enforcement Command of the Islamic Republic of Iran that oversees public implementation of hijab regulations, for not wearing a hijab properly.

    Soon after the news of her death was broadcast and a photograph emerged on social media of her lying in a Tehran hospital in a coma, people throughout the country became enraged.

    Amini’s death starkly illustrated the systematic violence of police and highlighted particularly the brutality of the regime towards women and minorities. She was Kurdish, a member of one of the most oppressed minority ethnic groups in Iran.

    All Iranian women who are routinely humiliated because of their gender can empathize with her. But Kurds and Kurdish women in particular understood the political message of her death at the hands of police and the state’s subsequent violent response to the protests.

    The huge wave of protests in Iran following Amini’s death represents a historic moment in Iran. People have taken to the streets shouting slogans against the compulsory hijab and denouncing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Khamenei.

    Protests have raged in 31 provinces, including Kurdistan and Tehran as well as cities such as Rasht, Isfahan and Qom, among Iran’s most conservative communities. Dozens of people have been killed by security forces and hundreds more have been arrested.

    A large crowd and cars are seen on a tree-lined city street, smoke billowing in places.
    In this photo taken by an individual not employed by the Associated Press and obtained by the AP outside Iran, protesters chant slogans during a protest over the death of Mahsa Amini, who was detained by the morality police, in downtown Tehran, Iran, on Sept. 21, 2022.
    (AP Photo)

    The Girls of Revolution Street

    Although the current uprising may seem unprecedented, it is in fact part of a deep-rooted and longstanding resistance movement by women in Iran.

    In what is widely seen as a punishment to the hundreds of women who participated in the anti-regime protests leading to the Iranian Revolution of 1979, the hijab became compulsory two years later in 1981.

    Consequently, publicly removing hijabs became a challenge to the regime in Iran.

    Decades later, in 2017, Vida Movahed climbed onto a platform on Enghelab (Revolution) Street in the centre of Tehran, took off her headscarf and waved it in the air as a sign of opposition to compulsory hijab.

    She was followed by other women and the movement quickly became known as The Girls of Revolution Street or Dokhtaran-e Khiaban-e Enghelab.

    The Girls of Revolution Street represented a fundamental challenge by younger women to Iran’s compulsory veiling laws. Their actions resulted in an increase in the number of women who braved the streets without hijab in defiance of the state.

    Unsurprisingly, when religious hardliner Ebrahim Raisi became president in the contested 2020 election, the message was clear: Women would be further oppressed.

    Zan, Zendegi, Azadi: Woman, life, freedom

    This recent uprising is a link in a chain of protests that together have the potential to bring about fundamental change in Iran.

    It began with the pro-democracy Green Movement in 2009 followed by popular uprisings in 2018 and 2019. The Green Movement was largely peaceful, but the uprisings grew increasingly more confrontational with each wave of repression.

    Women have been in the lead in all these protests, posing a real challenge to the regime. They’re the leaders of transformative change, the vanguard of a potential revolution, challenging the legitimacy of the current government..

    The current protests are focused on two main demands: dignity and freedom. Both have been absent from political life in Iran, and both have a prominent presence in almost all slogans during this uprising, particularly “Woman, Life, Freedom.”

    A woman holds a sign that reads Women, Life, Freedom at a protest march.
    Members of the Iranian community and their supporters rally in solidarity with protesters in Iran in Ottawa on Sept. 25, 2022.
    THE CANADIAN PRESS/Justin Tang

    The recent uprising makes it clear that the demand for radical change in Iran today is strong and significant.

    With every wave of protest, the desire for freedom gets stronger, the voices get louder and success is within reach. Once again, Iranian women are at the forefront of demanding transformative change.

    With the strong support this time of men, political and ethnic minorities and other disenfranchised groups, they may be leading their country closer to a freer and more just society.The Conversation

     

    Feature image: Protestors take part during a demonstration in front of the Iranian embassy in Brussels, Belgium on Sept. 23, 2022, following the death of Mahsa Amini. Photo: Shutterstock

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  • The queen was good at what she did; slick even. Her public faux pas were few, or not widely grasped enough to have wide impact.

    King Charles III has no such reputation. He’s already sacked his staff and made several brattish clangers on video. He helped make a hero of his late wife Diana through his and his family’s antics, and his Jeffrey Epstein-linked brother Andrew will automatically deputise for the king in case of emergencies. On top of this, Charles has been for many years an ambassador for the British arms industry.

    He must not have an easy ride, at least not nearly as easy as his life during his 73-year apprenticeship. The truth is, the king has to go, and so does the institution of monarchy. And no amount of monarchist (or republican) moralism about timing, or respect, or most laughably their ‘service’, should stop us saying it. Anything which inspires the bizarre queue – a sort of idiot ‘Human Respectipede’ – currently winding its way through London’s streets needs to go in the bin.

    Immoral or ignorant?

    That said, republicanism in mainland Britain is in a shocking state – despite a decent amount of support for it. Up to a quarter of Brits want an elected head of state – this goes up to 40% among young people. Meanwhile, 36% of Scottish people say the end of the queen’s reign should usher in a republic. These are sizeable minorities which are given few platforms in the mainstream media or public narrative.

    And they are right to oppose it. The monarchy is a ridiculous and oppressive institution built on violence. There is no nuance to be had here: if you are a monarchist, or waver and drip over the question of monarchy (in which case, you may well be a monarchist), you are either immoral or ignorant.

    If you can see the monarchy for what it is and don’t care, you’re clearly immoral. If you refuse to stop being spoon-fed lies about the British empire, you’re purposely ignorant.  At least the latter category might be redeemable through education, but not with things as they are.

    The only specific organisation which speaks to this grand old strain of UK politics is Republic. Liberal, reformist, and flaky, its first call upon the death of the queen was instructive: let’s hold fire on debate until a more appropriate time:

    This should not shock. It is a feature of liberal republicanism that it is almost as twee and deferent as monarchism itself, and about as likely to seriously oppose the Royal institution. And this is nowhere more apparent than in the main organisation meant to oppose the Royal racket.

    Left republicanism

    There isn’t really a question about whether we need to get rid of the monarchy. It’s about how we oppose it in an invigorated and non-deferent way.

    The questions of land ownership, foreign policy, democracy, landlordism, equality, climate change, and more run smack bang through the middle of the monarchy – the ridiculous medieval core of what purports to be a modern state. That is not to say its ideal replacement is a president. No capitalist state can ever be good enough. But a fierce new republicanism can start to address and oppose our own unique, and uniquely perverse, systems of power.

    Republicanism, rather like free speech, is simply too important to be left to flaky liberals and self-assured Tories. It must become a key part of any strategy to increase working class power and confidence.

    The question now is what that looks like.

    Featured image via screenshot – YouTube/Channel 4 News

    By Joe Glenton

  • In the new book ‘Leaning Out’, respected journalist Kristine Ziwica maps a decade of stasis on the gender equality front in Australia, and why the pandemic has led to a breakthrough. This short excerpt is published will full permission. 

    How do we begin to tackle the Great Exhaustion? (Editor’s note: Earlier in her book, Kristina defines ‘The Great Exhaustion’ as “…the absolute overwhelming feeling of emotional exhaustion like there’s nothing left in the tank.”)

    Part of the answer lies in changing the conversation. We need to move away from lean-in ideas that posit the solution rests with individual women alone, who should devote more time and energy to their ‘wellbeing’ and simply shore up their resilience. Beware corporate ‘feminist wellness’, selling a soothing balm of herbal tea and scented candles – faux feminist Prozac to help women recover from the uniquely gendered impacts of the pandemic – instead of structural change.

    Many are fond of quoting the late activist Audre Lorde, who once wrote, ‘Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.’ And while that is absolutely true – and they are wise words for a growing army of feminist activists who are now taking to the streets in pursuit of gender equality – self-care as an idea and now an industry has been twisted beyond all recognition from Lorde’s original meaning.

    This is ‘feminist wellness’ or self-care as a kind of escape, not, as Lorde intended, a restorative practice to give those seeking deeper, collective change the energy and resilience to persevere. This kind of feminist self-care is, at best, devoid of meaning in its attempt to move product or, at worst, a cynical attempt to divert women from the task at hand.

    No one ever said, ‘Nevertheless she persisted with her daily regime of scented candles and massage therapy.’ (Though if I close my eyes and listen, I can almost imagine Gwyneth Paltrow uttering those words.)

    Kristina is speaking tonight (Wednesday, September 7, 2022) at the ANU. Book tickets here. 

    The rise of the wellness industrial complex, particularly in relation to women, is mirrored by the way neoliberalism infected feminism in the 1990s. No structural inequalities to tackle collectively here, folks. This is an individual problem. But as Angela Priestley, the founding editor of Women’s Agenda, told me, ‘this isn’t something more lunchtime pilates will fix’.

    This is not what we need at this critical juncture.

    ‘It’s really important that we look at the higher-level factors that have led to all of this,’ Dr Adele Murdolo, the executive director of Australia’s Multicultural Centre for Women’s Health, told me. COVID caused lots of stuff, but it also just exacerbated a lot of inequality that was already there. It showed it up and it made it more apparent to everybody.

    ‘We need to have a look at gender and race discrimination in the workplace and develop policies and programs that are knocking that off at the source, which is a big job and not something you can fix in a month because it’s something that’s so embedded in our workplaces,’ added Murdolo.

    Cover of "Leaning Out: A Fairer Future for Women at Work in Australia." Picture: Supplied

    Cover of “Leaning Out: A Fairer Future for Women at Work in Australia.” Picture: Supplied

    Lisa Annese, CEO of Diversity Council Australia, has said that ‘inclusion at work is an antidote to the great resignation’. She points to new research from DCA that demonstrates the link between non-inclusive behaviours and workers’ intentions to stay. Workers in inclusive teams are 4 times more likely than those in non-inclusive teams to report their workplace has positively impacted their mental health, and they are 4 times less likely to leave their jobs. ‘So you are investing in the wellbeing of your people, and making your business more resilient.’

    We need to develop policies, legislation and programs that change not only workplace cultures and attitudes, but also the way that workplaces are structured; at the moment, workforces are really about the full-time, unencumbered male employee. We need to look at making workplaces really flexible.

    Not flexible just for employers in terms of insecure work, but flexible for what people in families really need. We need childcare so that women are able to actively participate in the workforce. We need to tackle the gender pay gap, and not just as it relates to gender alone, but also taking into account ethnicity, disability and sexual orientation … all the intersecting forms of discrimination that make the gender pay gap even larger for some than others.

    ‘Bigger structural issues: pay equity, equal jobs of equal worth (particularly for women in undervalued caring jobs), childcare, giving people permission to voice the good, bad and the ugly is also part of the healing process,’ Leisa Sargent, the senior deputy deanof UNSW’s Business School and the University’s co-deputy vice-chancellor Equity Diversity and Inclusion,told me. ‘But I also think that making sure that employees are engaged in the decision-making process coming out of the pandemic is really important. We went through two years of being told what we had to do and how we had to do it, which is very disempowering.’

    We now need to create opportunities where people feel they have a say in how things get done, in flexibility, in opportunities to work in different parts of the business and to be stimulated.

    ‘And it’s also about a fundamental redrawing of the boundaries,’ added Sargent.

    Research from the Australia Institute’s Centre for Future Work suggests why a redrawing of boundaries may be particularly necessary, as the pandemic has only exacerbated the trend towards the intensification of work and highlighted the costs of insecure work, where women are heavily concentrated. The research found that the average worker did

    6.1 hours per week of unpaid overtime in 2021, a substantial increase on 2020.

    ‘Let’s make jobs plentiful, safer, secure and invest in social institutions that support people, in particular women, to work’, Alison Pennington, a senior economist at the Centre for Future Work, told me was the quite simple, yet powerful, prescription.

    ‘The treadmill of insecure work fuels anxiety and makes planning for a decent life nigh impossible. The reality is that the human cost of unchecked employer power is enormous. And there are multiple indicators that this power has deepened over the pandemic.’

    The solutions are structural and collective, going far beyond self-care, and even beyond direct psychological treatment for women’s mental health, though this is undeniably necessary and should be addressed with more targeted and innovative mental health support. At the time we spoke, Professor Jayashri Kulkarni, for example, had just opened Australia’s first dedicated mental health centre for women, a specialist model she would like to see replicated elsewhere.

    As we endeavour to ‘build back better’, we need these types of broad, wide-ranging proposals as part of the wider debate about women and work. The changed conversation around women’s workplace burnout and the factors driving that will play a significant role in moving the conversation forward from the lean-in feminism that has so far dominated the Australian landscape to something better, something more impactful and meaningful. If that happens, then women’s collective suffering during the pandemic won’t have been in vain.

     

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  • Nothing to Hide is Australia’s first mainstream anthology of trans and gender diverse writing. In this excerpt, Stacey Stokes writes about her tough and painful journey to become a woman. This excerpt is published with full permission. 

    Content notification: This post discusses sexual violence, stigmatisation and discrimination based on a person’s gender identity.

    When I was three years old, I started wearing my sister’s old dresses. They seemed so pretty to me. My favourite was the colour of a Cherry Ripe wrapper. The soft satin felt nice on my skin, and I loved the way it swirled around my legs. My parents must’ve told me that I wasn’t allowed to wear dresses because I hid them in a box deep inside an unused wardrobe, and wore them only when I thought I was alone.

    One night, I went to my hidey spot and discovered that all my pretty dresses were gone. Who had taken them? Did they know that I’d put them there? I didn’t know. I was devastated, and afraid that I’d be told off by my dad at any moment for my secret, lost collection.

    After all my pretty clothes had been taken away, I had to find new forms of beauty. Like fire. I loved the way that I could make it appear whenever I wanted and watch it dance around in its beau­tiful red colours.

    When I was four, I set fire to the lounge room by inserting rolled up paper into the pilot light of the wall heater, then using the lit paper to make little fires on the carpet. My parents asked me if I had set the fire, but I shook my head. Then they asked who did it. ‘A little boy with brown hair, a Transformers T­shirt and grey pants,’ I replied. That’s what I was wearing, of course, but I was no little boy.

    When I started primary school, I’d choose to play the princess in make­ believe games with the boys. It didn’t make me popular. I liked playing with the girls, but soon they began to exclude me too. I started to hate school, and did everything I could to avoid it.

    One school day, I told my mum that I was sick, and I stayed at home alone watching daytime television. Mum was doing the washing, dad was at work and my brother and sister had gone to school, so I had the run of the house.

    I sat cross­legged in the lounge room with the sun streaming in, watching our old boxy TV that looked like it had been sitting there since the Cold War era. TV was my window into the real world. At 12 o’clock, Jerry Springer came on. It was an episode about transgender people, and the audience cruelly pointed and laughed at all the guests. It hurt me terribly to see them being laughed at.

    At the end of the show, Jerry talked about being transgender. He said, ‘If you want to be a girl, then you can be a girl. All you have to do is want it enough.’ So every night before I went to sleep, I concentrated as hard as I could on my dream of being a girl. But every morning, I woke up to find that I still had a penis.

    My penis was so embarrassing to me. It was a dark and horrible shame that I didn’t want anyone to know about. When I dressed in trousers to go to school, I’d tuck it back and pretend it didn’t exist. I’d never, ever wear shorts, even in summer, because I couldn’t stand the sight of my little bulge. I refused to participate in sports carnivals, because they insisted that everyone wear shorts. I never even learnt to swim because I’d never,ever wear bathers.

    My mum is bipolar, and she was always in and out of psychi­ atric wards when I was growing up. In fact, a family member told me I was conceived in one. My mum’s condition had a large influence on everyone in my family, but challenged her the most. She’s a smart, caring and non­judgmental person who was deeply maternal, but the medication the doctors put her on really dumbed her down.

    When the meds stopped working or when she’d refuse to take them she’d get sad and cry a lot, or would stay up all night babbling on about things that made no sense, and laugh hysterically. My dad was deeply avoidant and just buried himself in his work.

    Nothing to Hide: Voices of Trans and Gender Diverse Australia

    Cover image: Nothing to Hide: Voices of Trans and Gender Diverse Australia. Picture: Supplied

    When I was 10, my parents separated for good. My mum took me up to NSW and my sister stayed in Victoria with Dad. I got sent back down to Victoria to see Dad from time to time, but I didn’t know how to act like a proper boy, which I knew I had to do in front of him. It made me feel awkward and withdrawn. My mum was either dumbed down from her medication or she was in hospital. I felt so alone, with no one I could tell my secrets to.

    I started missing so much school that the truancy officers started knocking on our door. My dad was so worried that I was falling behind that he got a Family Court order to say that I had to see a child psychologist. When I went to their office, the psychologist held up a picture of two dogs having sex and asked me if anyone had ever done that to me.

    My first thought was, ‘No, this is the first time an adult has shown me pictures of animals having sex, you pervert!’ They didn’t ask me anything about wanting to be a girl, and I didn’t know how to bring it up. They declared me a strange, troubled boy, and sent me back to Victoria to live with my dad and my sister.

    When I got back to Victoria, my sister told me I was gay. She tried to tell me that it was okay to be gay, and that I shouldn’t be ashamed. I kept telling her I wasn’t gay, but she didn’t believe me.

    Her boyfriend at the time wasn’t as nice about it. He called me ‘fag boy’, and would stick his tongue in my ear and ask me if I liked it. I didn’t, it made me feel upset and dirty. My dad joined in, and started calling me ‘poofter’ as a nickname.

    My dad decided I needed to be toughened up, and he sent me to a Catholic boarding school, wherethey trained us to be ‘Christian soldiers’. All weekend, we were made to march or pray to Jesus. I didn’t fit in, and the boys kept themselves entertained by taunting me. They covered me in shaving cream while I was sleeping and heated up bits of metal with lighters, burning me with them, which scarred me for life. It got so bad that I ran away from school one night and slept in a public toilet. I called my mum the next day, and she drove down from NSW to come and get me.

    I think my dad gave up on me after that. Back at Mum’s, I enrolled in a new school, which I was hoping would be a fresh start. I decided to make myself over as a ‘metal head’. I grew my hair long and got a guitar that I never did learn how to play. I would blast ‘Cemetery Gates’ by Pantera so loud that sometimes the police would come round to tell me to turn it off. I started smoking and drinking, and Ioften hosted drunken parties at my place when Mum was in the psychiatric unit. I stopped eating and lived off coffee and alcohol, and I lost heaps of weight.

    Eventually people started mistaking me for a girl because I was so skinny and long­haired. Whenpeople got a better look at me they would all react differently; girls would usually say sorry, assuming they’d offended me. Guys would do adouble­take and then call me a ‘fucking faggot’.

    When they pointed and yelled this at me out of car windows, it reminded me of the audience on the Jerry Springer show, treating the transgender people like circus freaks. I imagined how much worse things could be if I actually transitioned.

    Eventually, I dropped out of school altogether. I stayed up all night drinking and smoking and playing PlayStation. Somehow, I got a girlfriend, and for the first time in my life I felt I finally had someone I could trust. She would come over, stay the night, get changed into her school clothes and go to school, leaving her orig­inal outfit behind. All her clothes fit me really nicely, which I’d wear alone in the house while she was away. I thought I looked pretty nice, and things were going well between us. I even started to consider telling her about the real me.

    Instead, one night she looked at me and told me she wanted to cut off my hair. ‘It looks too girly,’ she said. ‘What’s wrong with that?’ I replied. She disclosed to me that her dad, who was no longer in her life, had had a ‘sex change’ just before she’d met me.

    She said that she’d never forgiven her dad, and that she’d sent him a letter telling him that she hated him and wanted nothing to do with him. While she told me this story, she kept using ‘him’ over and over again.

    ‘He’s dead to me,’ she said as she ended her story. I was devastated to discover that the first person I felt I could trust hated transgender people. I felt more alone than ever.

    I started to feel that my body was a stranger’s. I hated what I saw in the mirror. I didn’t know who Iwas or what to do, so I just drank, smoked and slept with every girl I came across. My girl­ friend and Isplit up, and I moved up to Newcastle. In 2000, I was such a drunken mess that when the Olympic torch went right past my flat, I was too smashed to even stick my head out the window and look.

    My flat was practically empty of furniture, and there was even a bullet hole in one of the windows thanks to some local criminals who did a drive­by shooting at my house after I pissed them off somehow. When 9/11 happened I only found out because they interrupted DragonBall Z—the only show I’d wake up before midday to watch—to show the footage.

    I had a new girlfriend by then. I often asked her to dress me up in her clothes, which were little miniskirts and tight cocktail dresses. My favourite was a green velvet dress that I paired with some knee­ high boots. She said I looked better in it than she did, which meant a lot to me, but we ended up splitting up because of my drinking.

    My dad put a lot of pressure on me to move back to Victoria, because he was worried that I’d die or end up in jail if I stayed in Newcastle. He gave me a job in his office, where my brother also worked, and I got to know him a little. I told him that Dad thought I was gay, which really frustrated me because I knew that I liked girls.

    Determined to prove how not gay I was, I slept with every girl that I could. I even called my dad to tell him I wouldn’t be coming into work as I’d torn my penis during sex. My brother, who overheard the conversation, drove over to see if that could really happen, and went really pale after seeing all the blood.

    I eventually got sick of my dad’s homophobic taunts, and decided to try and get my high school certificate at Victoria University. I made some nice female friends who also thought I was gay, mainly because I had stopped trying to have sex with women all the time. I had replaced that addiction with playing World of Warcraft obses­ sively as a female character. My beautiful avatar was a Night Elf, who was tall with long, platinum blonde hair past her waist, and an ever­changing array of dresses that noone could take off her.

    A beautiful girl started coming over and just sitting with me while I played World of Warcraft. She called me at night and we’d have long phone conversations, talking about anything and everything, and that’s how I started falling in love with her. She seemed to truly care about me.

    We started dating, and soon after I asked her to dress me up in her clothes. She put me in a stunning blue dress that matched my eyes. I asked her if she’d still love me if I was a girl, and she said that she would as long as she could see my beautiful blue eyes. But she didn’t think I was serious.

    Despite my new love, I was still drinking a lot and got arrested for drunkenly climbing the roof of a restaurant, apparently looking for a table with a view. I got charged and pleaded guilty, and copped a big fine.

    My girlfriend became pregnant, and soon we had two beautiful baby girls. We married, and I landed a job as a maritime security officer. I was desperate to get on the straight and narrow to support my family, and I swore off booze and smokes.

    One night, I asked my wife if she’d leave me if I got a sex change. She thought about it, and said that she definitely would.

    I was crushed. It brought me right back to the shame I felt when I’d first seen the audience laughing at Jerry Springer’s transgender guests. I started drinking again. I was passive aggressive, and increasingly painful to be around, as I projected my unhappiness onto everyone around me.

    My house stopped feeling like my home, it just felt like a stranger’s. I had such bad anxiety that I developed an eye twitch and had trouble swallowing food. I kept drinking more and more, and alienated my family through my increasingly toxic behaviour.

    "I started to feel that my body was a stranger’s. I hated what I saw in the mirror," writes Stacey.

    “I started to feel that my body was a stranger’s. I hated what I saw in the mirror,” writes Stacey. Photo: Shutterstock 

    One day, my kid’s teachers got so concerned that they called child protection, who started asking me lots of questions about domestic violence and child abuse. Pretty soon, the police took over asking all the questions, and I ended up in jail.

    When I finally got bail, I moved in with my nan and my mum, who were living together back in Victoria. It was at my nan’s house that I really had time to stop and think about what I’d done, and how I had pushed everyone away with my awful behaviour. I decided that since I was now a complete outcast,I might as well transition after all. How could things get any worse? I went to court back and forth, and disclosed to my defence lawyer that I was transgender.

    My lawyer disclosed this to the judge during my sentencing hearing. The judge said that I wouldn’t have any trouble with that since I wouldn’t have access to women’s clothes anyway. The judge said that I could minimise my harassment by growing a beard, cutting my hair and using my deadname. Basically, don’t be trans and you won’t be harassed. It really made me wonder about how out of touch the people who decide our fates really are.

    In prison, I began an epic battle to receive gender­affirming health care with longstanding help from a community legal service. It took years to get a referral from a doctor to get on hormone replacement therapy, to be allowed female clothing and for staff to refer to me with female pronouns. I’ve been on female hormones for years now, but I am still not allowed to legally change my gender marker as the government says it may ‘offend’ the community. I’ve only stayed sane because of an incredible social worker who has volunteered their time to support me and help me lodge endless paperwork.

    A men’s prison is not a safe place for a trans woman. Since I’ve been inside, I’ve been bullied, bashed and raped. I have nightmares most nights and I have tried to end my life many times. If it wasn’t for the external support I’ve received, I probably would’ve kept on trying until I succeeded.

    Despite the cruelty I’ve been exposed to in prison, I’m still glad that I finally know who I am. I’ve learnt that I can live without alcohol, and that I don’t need sex to make me happy. I am still haunted by some of the things I have done, and I am terribly sorry about the harm I’ve caused to the people who loved me. I wish I had been able to live as my true self when I was younger, as I might’ve been able tospare many people a great deal of pain and projected anger.

    I still haven’t gotten out of prison yet, and some days it’s tough in here. But I am grateful that my body is now mine, and that I am starting to love the person I see in the mirror.

    Nothing to Hide: Voices of Trans and Gender Diverse Australia is out now. 

    • Please note: the photos in this story are stock images. 

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

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    The post The isolation of being transgender: How I got here appeared first on BroadAgenda.

    This post was originally published on BroadAgenda.

  • By: Carilee Osborne

    See original article here.

    South Africa is one of the most unequal countries in the world, with extremely high rates of poverty and unemployment. Large numbers of people are excluded from the economy without the means to ensure that their basic needs are met. Recently there has been a lot of debate about the introduction of a Universal Basic Income Guarantee (UBIG) in South Africa and its potential to address poverty and ensure that all people have an adequate standard of living.

    But what the introduction of a basic income grant means and what it looks like is not always clear. In this three-part series from the Institute for Economic Justice (IEJ), we cover the basics of a basic income grant. This, our first article, covers the overview of what a (U)BIG is, what different types exist and what transformative potential it may have. Our second piece covers the debate in South Africa and our final piece focuses on how we could finance it.

    What is a (U)BIG ?

    A basic income guarantee is a commitment by government to ensure that everyone has a minimal level of income to meet their basic needs. This is done through a regular cash transfer or grant.

    Not all basic income guarantees are the same. A major point of difference is whether a guarantee is universal or targeted.

    A Universal Basic Income Guarantee is something that all people (usually within a certain age range, for instance: all adults or all working-age adults) qualify for, regardless of their income or employment status.

    A targeted basic income on the other hand is only paid out to those who meet some kind of qualifying criteria, usually that they are unemployed and/or have income below a certain level, typically referred to as a means-test threshold.

    In a targeted grant the level of this threshold is an important decision and determines the impact of the grant. If a threshold is set too low, for example, people who need the grant will not receive it. Advocates of a targeted grant argue that since only those who most need the grant receive it, this is the best use of scarce resources.

    With a universal grant, everyone qualifies for the grant regardless of their income. Advocates of a UBIG argue that this reduces the administrative burden on the state because government officials do not have to go through difficult and time-consuming assessments of whether an applicant qualifies or not. A universal grant would mean there is less chance that people who need the grant won’t receive it (due to something called “exclusion errors”). Research shows that targeted grants are difficult to administer, and always involve some level of accidental exclusion of rightful beneficiaries. Many previous recipients of, and current applicants for, the current R350 Social Relief of Distress (SRD) grant can attest to this.

    In addition to whether a grant is targeted or not and how any targeting is designed, the value of the grant is also an important design decision as it is important to ensure that the grant is set at a high enough level that it improves people’s life choices, rather than trapping them in poverty and dependency.

    What can a UBIG do?

    Many countries have introduced basic income support in some form, often to test its impact, and there is a lot of research that shows what the effects can be.

    • Basic income support can end hunger: Government estimates suggest that 18.3 million people in South Africa do not have enough income to meet their basic food needs, and more than half the population lives in poverty. A UBIG set at the value of the highest poverty line would, by definition, eliminate poverty and end hunger in South Africa.
    • Basic income support can improve health and education outcomes: Poverty produces unjust and costly social consequences, including poor health and barriers to education. This makes it harder for people to escape poverty, and can trap generations in a cycle of poverty. Extensive evidence shows that basic income support (if it is accompanied by public healthcare and education) can improve people’s nutrition, health, and education, and help them escape intergenerational poverty. Studies also show that income support reduces stress and improves people’s psychological well-being. Evidence from Alaska, Kenya and South Africa shows the impact of cash transfers on child nutrition and health outcomes. Other research points to the fact that cash transfers help keep young people in school for longer.
    • Basic income can help grow the economy: Critics of basic income support often think about grants as a financial drain on the state or the economy, but research shows they can play an important role in growth. This is partly because people spend the money they receive in local communities. Research also shows that basic income support helps people to join the formal labour market because it takes away the stress of trying to ensure basic needs are met and/or gives people the money to cover the costs of looking for a job. Finally, research shows that basic income can also help support people to build sustainable livelihoods through self-employment or starting businesses.
    • Basic income can help address gender inequality: Women perform the bulk of unpaid domestic and care work in the home, and are also disadvantaged in the labour market. This means they are more likely to be poor, and are also more likely to be dependent on men. Basic income support gives women more autonomy and independence, and can also reduce their vulnerability to gender-based violence.
    • Basic income can improve social cohesion: A UBIG is a fairer way of sharing the wealth in our society, and this can help to improve social solidarity, stability, and democratic participation. A basic income trial in Namibia led to a reduction in crime.

    What about South Africa?

    South Africa does not have any permanent income support for able-bodied people between the ages of 18 and 59.

    The Covid-19 SRD grant is a temporary measure which targets some people in this group but it has many limitations. There have been debates about the introduction of basic income support since the 1990s.

    In our next article we go into details about the history of the debate in South Africa and discuss what a UBIG in the country could look like. We argue that a UBIG can have transformative effects in South Africa helping to shift structural poverty, alleviate some of the impacts of deeply entrenched unemployment and end hunger in the country. Rather than being a drain on the economy, a UBIG can contribute to growth as more people spend money in their local communities and have the means to better their economic position.

  • What if women’s breasts and nipples were as commonplace and accepted in the same settings as men’s are? And why aren’t they? I talked with friends about this cultural conundrum, more recently demonstrated in social media and press reactions to that dress – or rather those nipples of Florence Pugh’s.

    It took place at a South Australian beachside restaurant, where in summer, you’ll see any number of men trying to draw attention to themselves by bathing topless. After dinner we walked a few doors up to Henley Beach’s Ramsgate Hotel, where a ‘no shoes, no shirt, no entry’ system is equitably enforced.

    However, as we traversed the front bar, my eyes fell on photos of all-male squads of Lifesavers, bare chests and nipples even more prominent in sepia toned photos. Well-hatted ladies with breasts firmly restrained inside Victorian-era dresses look on in the background, watching the pectoral parade joyfully. I mean, what cis-woman’s loins wouldn’t stir?

    Let’s be sensible now. The topless man-bathers of Henley Beach (probably) aren’t using their chest and nips to draw attention to themselves. The vintage Lifesaver blokes weren’t being wantons. But what would be said about female Lifesavers parading in the same cossies, even today? We all know, us breast-havers: ‘[w]hen you want to insult a woman, call her a prostitute.’

    The only time women are meant to be able to expose breasts in public without being told to cover up by someone is breastfeeding. And even that evolutionary function, which is a right enshrined in Australian law, still isn’t universally accepted socially. In the US it’s not socially accepted at all.

    I’d never seen a woman breastfeed before I tried to do it. Unsurprisingly, holding the nipple-balls they gave us at prenatal classes as stand-ins for our own breasts weren’t much help either. To state the bleeding obvious: they weren’t our breasts, our nipples.

    They were soft, pliable balls full of clear silicone gel. Not breast tissue and blood, sore and engorged with golden colostrum or blue-white breastmilk. Looking back, the frigid absence of real breasts, real breastmilk at a ‘breastfeeding seminar’ just seems ludicrous.

    What did I expect though? And what would I have made of a bunch of heavily pregnant women, tits out, experimentally shaping their nipples, peering pervily over the shoulder of a breastfeeding woman? I probably would have found it cultish and weird.

    Jennifer Zeven

    Jennifer Zeven wonders why women’s breasts and nipples aren’t as commonplace and accepted in the same settings as men’s. Picture: Supplied

    I grew up in the 80s and 90s. I saw women’s bodies fashionably dismembered and served up prettily on the glossy, perfumed pages of women’s magazines. Legs. Lips. Pelvises. Breasts. Raunch culture was on the rise, and continues to be a contentious area for feminists.

    Of course, it wasn’t all in the mags. My breasts were already many things to me: memories of comfort and maternal nurture; part of a rite of passage to womanhood and sisterhood; sexuality. For better or worse, my breasts were a big part of my ‘sexual self’.

    Breasts being an erogenous part of our bodies isn’t the problem. A friend of mine says, ‘I love my breasts! They always grew down, not out, but were always a great size, and they are a super erotic part of my body. I don’t remember [pregnancy and breastfeeding] causing any sexual interference…my boobs were still awesome, and we both still loved them.’

    Unlike hers, my lactating breasts caused a lot of ‘sexual interference’. During our first post-partum bonk, our baby cried half way through. This didn’t seem to affect my husband’s ardor, my body reacted quite differently. My breasts turned into sprinklers.

    Graceful arcs of breastmilk landed softly on my husband’s manly chest. The touch and nipple stimulation I once loved consistently triggered a letdown. It’s been over four years since I breastfed my youngest daughter for the last time.

    Another of my candid friends told me: ‘I just switched off the breasts-as-sexual-things for part of my breasts for seven years or so’. And I’ve done something the same. My breasts haven’t started feeling sexy again.

    Most of the time, Idon’t feel sexy again. Is it a big deal? Life stages change; our energies ebb and flow with them. But I still feel the tension of two archetypal – or should I say stereotypical? – women existing uneasily within me: mother and lover.

    I’m not alone there either. I spoke to a woman who said ‘Having grown up in a Christian culture that was very anti-cleavage, it’s hard to get out of the mindset that putting my breasts on display is wrong’. Whether we’re religious or not, the dominant culture in Australia was built on Christianity. There’s that really special version of the virgin/whore dichotomy: the virgin’s a mother too. Holy oxymoron, patriarch!

    I was being glib about male ‘topless’ bathers and nipples earlier, but this is why the female nipple taboo and sexualization of the breast is starting to incense more than amuse me. ‘[F]emale breasts/ banned/ unless they’re out just for show’ says Hollie McNish in her brilliant poem Embarrassed. I’ve never fed my child in toilet cubicle or been asked to leave cafes or restaurants while breastfeeding. But I’ve also rarely seen an unsexualised breast.

    Quasi-biological explanations of why we sexualise breasts in Western culture in the first place (bigger equals more milk) tend to fall apart in the face of own cultural history, and that of other countries.

    As academic Michelle Smith writes, body parts with no connection to genitalia like ‘..legs, ankles, hair, and feet’ either are or have been highly eroticised. What this means for cis-men is ‘you’re not hard-wired to stare at women’s breasts’.

    But copping a sneaky eyeful of boob as you pass is pretty harmless. Things like staring, catcalling, harassment, verbal abuse, and violence aren’t. The good news is, you can control your own behaviour. In fact, it’s control which is at the centre of these actions, as Sandra-Lee Bartky writes: ‘…they could have enjoyed me in full silence…But I must be made to know that I am a “nice piece of ass”’.

    According to Smith, one thing holds true: covering a sexualised body part with clothing heightens its sexual appeal. I wonder if there were more breasts displayed outside a sexual context, instead of less, we might take some pressure off our bodies?

    More lactating boobs, more wrinkly ones supposedly past their ‘best before’ date, more boobs of all types. Sure, it’d be weird, and not compulsory. I’d probably still be the ginger in the full rashie on those high UV days. But As McNish says, ‘…in this country of billboards covered in tits/I think we should try to get used to this’.

    • Please note: Feature image is a stock photo. These are not the author’s breasts. Photo: Shutterstock. 

    The post Reclaiming boobs: ‘I’ve rarely seen an unsexualised breast’ appeared first on BroadAgenda.

  • As we approach the next ACT public school pupil free day, I have been reflecting on the demands we are placing on our working parents – and more specifically mums around the country.

    For my part, finding the leave required to cover school holidays, COVID isolation and school pupil free days often seems impossible.

    COVID has changed all of our lives and it is fair to say that everyone should shoulder some of the extra work, changes and the burden of the pandemic.

    Unfortunately, however, the burden, just like the risk, is not fairly distributed and is often allocated based on nothing more than luck – our ethnicity, our predisposition to illness, our ability or disability, and whether our marriage survives the test of time.

    In a paper published in the Australian Journal of Economics, Leonora Risse and Angela Jackson write:

    ” Single-parent mothers, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander women, women living with a disability, LGBTIQ women, migrant women, and women from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds are among those for whom the economic impacts of the pandemic have generally been more severe”

    Claire Sullivan believes the burden, just like the risk, is not fairly distributed and women are shouldering the burden. Picture: Shutterstock

    Claire Sullivan believes the burden, just like the risk, is not fairly distributed and women are shouldering the burden. Picture: Shutterstock

    The amount of leave employees have from work compared with the amount of leave kids have from school has always been a tricky balancing act – and that‘s assuming that there are at least two adults sharing the responsibilities.

    Now, to help ease the pressures on our over-burdened schools, parents with school-aged children in the ACT public schools are being asked to find an extra two days of leave per term to cover the new pupil free days to give teachers time for lesson planning and administrative tasks. Arrangements vary depending on where you live, for example NSW has five school development days per year. The Queensland Government delayed school resuming at the beginning of 2022 by two weeks to avoid opening schools in the predicted peak of the Omicron wave.

    For single parents, the ability to work and generate an income is even more important and is becoming more and more difficult as they struggle with a load that often seems impossible and is growing.

    The struggle to bridge the disconnect between workplace expectations and the school system especially when it comes to leave is not exactly new. Traditionally, children had approximately 12 weeks of leave per year. Two parents in an average fulltime working household can access approximately 8 weeks of paid leave per year – which represents a shortfall of 4 weeks on the scheduled school holidays, and means that the family will never have a holiday together at the same time.

    For example, Ashleigh*, a happily married healthcare worker with a husband working in IT, explained to me:

    “The problem with being the parent who earns less is that your job isn’t considered as ‘valuable’ so you are the one to take paid and unpaid leave to cover the children’s care requirements”

    And that is before we even considered the gender of the carers and the diversity of families more broadly.

    A growing number of family households are no longer two parent (almost 14% in 2021) and a large number of divorced parents don’t share custody evenly. Women represent 73% of sole and majority custody single parent households in Australia which naturally means that this impossible task is falling disproportionately on them.

    With two pupil-free days per term, parents need to find another 8 days of leave. With the rate of COVID transmission experienced so far, it’s fair to assume that most families also need to find another week if not two per year to cover COVID isolation periods. For a two-parent family or a divorce household with a 50/50 shared care arrangement they need to find over seven weeks off work per year when the standard annual leave provision in most Canberra jobs is 4 weeks.

    For a sole carer, that figure is at least 14.5 weeks. Jennifer*, a sole parent who works full time, says:

    “As a single mum, I nearly burst into tears when I read the emails about all the pupil free days! I’m just at the end of my rope with it. Especially after 2 years of pandemic”

    There’s no question that our schools have been put under enormous stress and our teachers bear the brunt of it. Most schools are struggling with the impact of COVID isolation requirements which is highlighting a shortage of teachers and relief teachers. Most schools are implementing measures to ‘cope’ through splitting classes – distributing students in classes where the teacher is sick into other classes and asking teachers to teach a much larger group – or losing classes and cohorts – asking students to learn from home to reduce the teaching and supervision requirements for schools.

    However, we need to ask whether putting the burden back onto parents – another overstretched cohort – is the answer.

     

    *Names changed

    The post The impossible load that just keeps growing appeared first on BroadAgenda.

    This post was originally published on BroadAgenda.

  • On August 26 1970, 50,000 women marched down Fifth Avenue in New York City in a Women’s Strike. Organised by feminist activist Betty Friedan, the march highlighted the fact women still performed the vast majority of domestic work.

    The Women’s Liberation Movement wanted many things in 1970, but one of the most important was freedom from “unpaid domestic servitude at home”.

    Half a century later, most women are still waiting for their freedom. Women still do far more domestic and care labour than men.

    Since the 1960s, more and more women have taken up paid employment, but a problem remains: how would their unpaid domestic work be replaced?

    The 1972 original cover. biblio.com.au

    The 1972 original cover.
    biblio.com.au

    Dramatising women’s suburban alienation

    Ira Levin’s novel The Stepford Wives offered a bleak answer: women themselves would be replaced. Levin powerfully dramatised women’s suburban alienation and men’s resistance to feminist change.

    The Stepford Wives begins with Joanna Eberhart, a wife, mother and photographer, who moves with her family from Manhattan to the suburban town of Stepford. She is interested in tennis, photography and women’s liberation. Joanna and her husband Walter have a happy, respectful marriage. Yet Walter joins the mysterious Stepford Men’s Association, where the men of the town spend their evenings.

    Joanna finds it hard to make friends in their new home: all the women of Stepford are too busy cooking and cleaning. In the 1975 film adaptation (directed by Bryan Forbes, with a screenplay by William Goldman), Joanna and her only friend, fellow newcomer Bobbie, begin a consciousness-raising group – designed to raise women’s feminist awareness – which is derailed by an intense discussion of the merits of Easy-On Spray Starch.

    The 1975 film of The Stepford Wives is as iconic as Ira Levin’s novel.

    The women of Stepford transform into glassy-eyed housewives within months of arriving. Watching one of them admiring her washing, “like an actress in a commercial”, Joanna thinks

    That’s what they all were, all the Stepford wives: actresses in commercials, pleased with detergents and floor wax, with cleansers, shampoos, and deodorants. Pretty actresses, big in the bosom but small in the talent, playing suburban housewives unconvincingly, too nicey-nice to be real.

    Joanna and Bobbie realise, with mounting horror, that the Stepford women have literally been replaced by robots, in a scheme masterminded by their husbands – and they too, will be similarly transformed. Bobbie is first. She tells Joanna

    I realised I was being awfully sloppy and self-indulgent. […] I’ve decided to do my job conscientiously, the way Dave does his.

    The women’s personalities have been erased, but their families don’t seem to mind – Bobbie’s son is delighted because his mother now makes hot breakfasts, while the husbands are thrilled because their “new” wives love sex and housework.

    Fearful that she “won’t be me next summer”, Joanne realises Walter has also changed. He tells her the women of Stepford have changed only

    because they realised they’d been lazy and negligent […] It wouldn’t hurt you to look in a mirror once in a while.

    Joanna agrees to see a psychiatrist, who prescribes her a sedative. But soon after, her voice vanishes from the novel, as she too has been transformed. At the story’s close, Joanna is gliding slowly through a supermarket, telling an acquaintance that she no longer does photography because “housework’s enough for me”.

    An extraordinary feminist horror novel

    The Stepford Wives is an extraordinary feminist horror novel. Its vision of a group of men who engineer housework-loving robots to replace their restless wives offered not only a satire of male fears of women’s liberation, but a savage view of heterosexual marriage. In this telling, a man would rather kill his wife and replace her with a robot than commit to equality and recognise her as a whole person.

    Sarah Marshall, co-host of the podcast You’re Wrong About, argued the novel dramatised a real problem of the 1960s and 1970s: suburban living did transform women into robots. Tranquillisers like valium were massively over-prescribed for women who were suffering from “suburban neurosis”, both in Australia and the US.

    The extraordinary 1977 Australian documentary All In The Same Boat suggested suburban women had to take drugs to cope because their husbands refused to shoulder their share of the burdens of home and family. In short, what was happening to the women of Stepford was happening to women everywhere. They were losing their identities in a sea of endless domestic labour.

    This 1977 Australian documentary shows that what was happening to the women of Stepford was happening everywhere.

    Joanna’s bafflement at her neighbours’ absorption in domestic chores echoed the feelings of many women of the era. Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique resonated with so many white women in the 1960s because it articulated their dissatisfaction with the postwar gender order. Friedan declared:

    we can no longer ignore that voice within women that says: ‘I want something more than my husband and my children and my house.’

    Like many who joined women’s liberation, Joanna also wanted something more. The novel made it clear that “more” would be difficult for many women.

    From post-feminism to Get Out: cultural influence

    It is telling that in post-feminist 2004, the Joanna in the Frank Oz film remake of The Stepford Wives is not a woman seeking liberation, but a TV network president who creates crass reality TV programs. Women’s liberation had been transformed into corporate feminism, and the engineer of the scheme was not the Stepford Men’s Association, but an exhausted career woman who wants to return to a “simpler” life. The remake took a feminist premise and made an anti-feminist film.

    Women’s liberation was transformed into corporate feminism in the 2004 remake.

    Despite the dismal failure of the 2004 film, The Stepford Wives left a significant cultural footprint. The term itself entered the vernacular. Filmmaker Jordan Peele cited The Stepford Wives as a key influence on his horror film Get Out, also set in white suburbia. And Alex Garland’s 2014 film Ex Machina, centred on a lifelike female robot who turns on her creator, was a biting critique of tech bro misogyny.

    In a post-Roe v Wade world, where many men still seek to control women’s bodies and curtail their imaginations, Levin’s novel remains as chilling as ever.The Conversation

    This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

    • Feature image: The Stepford Wives (1975) IMBD

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  • Right now, it feels as if the world is lurching from crisis to crisis. We’ve navigated more than two years of a global pandemic that has left none of us unscathed, only to be confronted by the economic reverberations of an ongoing civil conflict in Ukraine.

    And we watch with horror as the intertwined and chronic crises of climate change, biodiversity loss and rising pollution precipitate a growing number of extreme events, from the flash floods in South Asia to the enduring drought in parts of East Africa.

    For women and girls, the effects of each of these crises compounds an already significant gender poverty gap. No matter where in the world, it is women and girls who bear the brunt of calamitous job losses and plummeting economic security; who navigate the strain of diminished public services as they carry the burden of unpaid care work; who are met with the fists and the violence that explode from the stress on family ties and pockets.

    But if the COVID-19 pandemic brought into sharp relief the profound indignities, inequalities and injustices confronting women every day, so too did it reveal the unlimited possibilities for gender-inclusive change, strategic planning and emergency response when women are in positions of power and leadership.

    For more than two years, UN Women together with our partners at the UN Development Programme tracked more than 5,000 policy measures developed by more than 220 governments as part of their emergency response to COVID-19.

    We looked for policies that responded specifically to the economic insecurity experienced by women as they lost jobs at a precipitous rate, and to the strain of unpaid care and domestic work for children, for elders and for other family members that women bent double carrying. And we looked for policies that responded to or sought to prevent the shadow pandemic of gender-based violence.

    We also looked to see the extent to which women were part of the decision- and policy-making processes, and where women’s voices were heard not just in protest but in collaboration and discussions about planning for the future.

    Our recently released research found that global responses largely fell short in meeting the specific and substantive needs of women and girls. Women held only one in four of the seats available in national taskforces launched around the world; one in 10 of those taskforces had no women at all.

    Only one in eight of the 3,000 social protection and jobs measures addressed women’s economic security and barely one in 14 sought to provide support for unpaid domestic care. This is not nearly enough – not even close.

    It was in responding to the threats and acts of violence against women where governments did more of the needful – acknowledging and acting on the unrelenting demands of feminist movements across the world that action be taken. Whether it was adding hotlines or online court hearings, or increasing the number of services available to survivors of violence, while there’s always more to do, governments did, finally, show up.

    Governments have the power to act now, as they focus on economic and social recovery, heeding the lessons from the work we are releasing today. Three key lessons stand out.

    1. Countries with more robust public services and gender-sensitive social protection systems had a head start when the pandemic hit, which means that investments in such systems are critical as part of both emergency preparedness and resilience strategies for countries. Social protection to informal work sectors, where women are concentrated, is critical – as was seen in countries including Brazil, Jordan, Pakistan and South Africa.
    2. In countries that are starting from further back there is room for rapid scale-up, particularly when the use of technology can be harnessed for improved ease and efficiency. Togo built a new cash transfer system aimed to support women from the bottom up, using digital technology to expand the reach and ensure security. Migrant domestic workers in Malaysia organized themselves online into a formidable force, supported by the International Federation of Domestic Workers, and met with government to demand – and receive – new rights including to employer-supported social security. Safeguards and action to close gender digital divides can help countries and movements respond effectively and thoughtfully when crisis hits.
    3. The last, most critical lesson is about the value of feminist movements and democratic structures – and their vital roles in driving change.Irrespective of national income, the report found that those countries with stronger democracies, with better representation in the legislature, with more space for feminist civil society to act and create awareness, were more likely to be gender-inclusive in their COVID-19 response. Having women in positions of power at all levels – like in Canada, in Chile, in Finland and in Argentina – is essential for countries to prepare for, respond to, and avert crises.

    As we brace ourselves for what comes next, we must make sure that the innovation and learning that emerged from the COVID-19 pandemic is not lost but translated into lasting change that responds to the particular needs of women and girls. Only then can we lay the foundations for a more sustainable, resilient and gender-just future.

     

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  • Falling in love with academia

    When Bomikazi Zeka attended a graduation ceremony as a guest during her Honours year, she decided that one day, no matter what, she would do a PhD. 

    “There was something about that red gown–because in South Africa the gown is red–it just looked so regal and badass! And I thought to myself, ‘Yes, I want a red gown, too’, she says.”

    Education was incredibly important to Bomikazi’s family, but she never thought she would go all the way onto a PhD. She tells me that, growing up in South Africa, “…which is probably one of the most, you know, still segregated societies in many ways … there’s still the legacy of apartheid.”  

    “And so education was probably the biggest weapon you could use to overcome your social or economic circumstances.”

    “Only when … I saw the PhD students walking the stage, did it ignite something inside of me. I was so in awe of these people who had made it to Doctoral level and could use that title for the rest of their lives.” Bomikazi’s eyes glint as she speaks about this.

    With awe she says, “I saw women! There was so much diversity in the spectrum of people graduating. I saw mums, and their kids were shouting for their mums on stage like, ‘yes mama!’”

    “And also, African ceremonies are lit.” Instead of quiet murmuring or subdued applause, “…there were people screaming and shouting…It’s so contagious. You can just feel the family’s love and excitement for their person and you’re like, oh my goodness, this is why we advocate for education.”

    “Everybody should have access to this, and this is why doors need to be opened and walls need to be kicked down… so that people have the opportunities not to see it but to do it… And to take up space and be unapologetic about it.”

    “Because you realise that you change the trajectory of your family when you achieve something like that. You make it possible for your children to dream that way, even for your parents to dream in that way.”

    At this point, Bomikazi has completely revived my love for academia. She continues: “When I see women getting their PhDs I’m like, ‘yes mama! Show them!’ And they’re wearing heels this high,” she gestures to indicate obscenely tall heels, “and they are killing it.”

    Seeing representation on that stage, Bomikazi shares, “…stirred something inside of me. … I knew that I would do a PhD one day. And it wasn’t something I was gonna do for work or for my parents, I knew it was something I was gonna do for me.”

    The power of representation 

    Bomikazi tells me that a career in academia was “…never even on the radar for me, until I was in uni and a professor I was a student assistant for had thrown the idea out there.” Bomikazi jokes that she thought she was “too cool for that, no way! That’s so boring!” 

    “Lo and behold,” she continues, “here I am!”

    “But this is why we talk about the power of representation. When I was in uni, I was never taught by younger academics. The demographic was very much older white men, especially in commerce, more especially in finance. So, I never saw women in academia … I never saw Black lecturers, I never saw younger lecturers.”

    “And this is coming from someone who grew up in South Africa, right? So I’m originally South African … and 80% of the population is Black and can you imagine that–in my entire schooling–I was only taught by one Black woman.”

    Bomikazi reflects: “there is no way I could have ever thought of that possibility because there was no representation.”

    “Now that I’m older,” she continues, “I’m also very conscious of the fact that, in pursuing a career in academia but more specifically in finance, I’m opening up that possibility for someone else.”

    Bomikazi pokes fun at her younger self: “And it’s not boring! Finance is fun! Because everyone thinks, ‘Ugh, this is so boring’ and that’s why I make it a point to go with my braided hair and to go to class in punk rock t-shirts, to completely flip the system upside down and to challenge your perspectives on what an academic looks like. What does an academic in finance look like? What does it mean to be a woman and a person of colour and a younger person … taking up space?”

    “I always say to my students, I’ve got my calculator, I’ve got my textbook, I am armed and dangerous.”

    These days Bomikazi is an Assistant Professor in finance and financial planning at the University of Canberra. After getting her PhD in financial planning and teaching at Nelson Mandela University, she taught at Hong Kong Baptist University before eventually moving here to the University of Canberra. 

    Bomikazi speaks about how lucky she felt to (pre-pandemic) travel for work: “…part of our jobs as academics is to be hungry for new knowledge, and see what’s out there.”

    “I’m really passionate about challenging how people see what we do and why we do it. It’s so much more than standing in front of a class delivering a curriculum. You are somebody’s hope. When you’re standing up there, there’s somebody watching you and thinking ‘my goodness, watch her go’.”

    “You change the way someone looks at financing or accounting or art or history… being the medium for the relationship between that person and how they interact with their discipline for the rest of their lives… it’s a huge responsibility.”

    “Somebody sees me and thinks to themselves, ‘wow, I could do that too.’”

    Bomikazi on empowering women in finance

    Bomikazi tells me she has come to be known as “…the Beyoncé of finance,” although she does follow this by quickly saying it was not her idea. 

     

    View this post on Instagram

     

    A post shared by Beyoncé (@beyonce)

     Bomikazi has been labelled “…the Beyoncé of finance.”

    Just like Queen Bey, Bomikazi is making waves in her field. She asks: “What can I do within my own space to make a difference?” 

    “I know I have the ability to take complex concepts and unpack them in a simplified way that resonates with people. That’s always been my superpower when it comes to teaching,” she tells me. 

    Bomikazi is incredibly passionate about empowering women’s financial independence and examining the intersectionality in why financial systems still fail women. “Why are women falling through the cracks in 2022? Why are people of colour having their marginal status maintained despite the fact that they’re equal contributors to society? Why do we look at older adults as if you get to 65 and then you’re redundant?”

    “A lot of my research is in making the strange, familiar and the familiar, strange.”

    Bomikazi identifies a clear difference in the language men and women use to talk about money. “There is still a lack of confidence when it comes to women”, and arming women with knowledge can go a long way in changing that. 

    “We have to change the way we speak about our finances, because that has a domino effect on the next generation. How you’re gonna speak to your children impacts how they’re gonna speak to their children.”

    “Find a way that you can empower yourself by changing the narrative.” Conversations about money don’t have to be taboo, she explains, and the “I suck at numbers” mentality isn’t sustainable. 

    “Finance is sexy! Money is sexy! Talk dividends to me,” Bomikazi jokes. “If you want to be financially independent one day, any day, it starts now.” 

    She shares questions to arm you with the self knowledge you need to gain that independence: “What are your money patterns? How do you interact with money, what are your attitudes towards it? Are you a spender or a saver? Do you know how super works? Do you know how to invest?”

    I joke that she has called me out on my lack of financial knowledge, and Bomikazi tells me: “So change the narrative. Sit down with your tax return and say, ‘I’m going to file the hell out of these taxes!’” 

    Bomikazi reminds me: “Set your little corner of the world on fire.” 

     

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  • The recent announcements of the first Albanese ministry and the first Dutton-Littleproud shadow ministry saw both the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition emphasise the number of women on their frontbenches. How much has the gender composition of the ministry and shadow ministry changed, and how significant are those changes?

    Prior to the election the 30-member Morrison ministry (comprising the Cabinet and outer ministry, but excluding assistant ministers) included 9 women (30%), while the 30-member Albanese shadow ministry (comprising the equivalent shadow ministers) included 12 women (40%).

    The proportion of women in the ministry has increased following the 2022 election, while the proportion of women in the shadow ministry has also increased in comparison to the previous Coalition ministry. The new Albanese ministry of 30 includes 13 women (43.3%), while the new Dutton-Littleproud shadow ministry of 31 includes 11 women (35.5%).

    Figures 1 and 2 below show the percentage of women in the ministry and the shadow ministry, respectively, after each federal election since 2001. Australian Labor Party (ALP) ministries and shadow ministries are shown in red, while Liberal-National Coalition ministries and shadow ministries are shown in blue.

     

    As illustrated in Figure 1, when compared to the new ministries announced after each election since 2001, there has been a significant increase in the proportion of women in the ministry following the 2022 election. Meanwhile, the representation of women in the shadow ministry, although higher than in previous Coalition shadow ministries, has fallen in comparison to recent ALP shadow ministries.

    Figure 3 below shows the percentage of women in particular roles—members of Cabinet, members of the outer ministry, and assistant ministers (formerly referred to as parliamentary secretaries)—in ministries after each election since 2001. Figure 4 below shows the same breakdown for women in the equivalent roles in shadow ministries.

     

    As set out in Figure 3, over the past two decades women in the ministry have tended to have higher representation in non-Cabinet roles—that is, in the outer ministry, and particularly as assistant ministers—rather than in Cabinet.

    The same pattern can be observed for women in the shadow ministry and shadow Cabinet as shown in Figure 4. A 2014 study (p. 142) found that women experienced a significantly lower rate of promotion to Cabinet than their male counterparts in Australia, and also in Canada and New Zealand.

    However, Australia, Canada and New Zealand have all seen improvements in the proportion of women in their Cabinets since 2014. Women’s representation in Australian shadow Cabinets has also improved during that period. In the new Albanese Cabinet, 10 of 23 members (43.5%) are women, which is a record number and percentage of women in Cabinet.

    In the new Dutton‑Littleproud shadow Cabinet, 10 of 24 members (41.7%) are women, representing a record number and percentage of women in a Coalition shadow Cabinet (but not for all shadow Cabinets).

    The increase in the number of women in Cabinets and shadow Cabinets since 2016 can be attributed to a range of factors. One factor is deliberate decisions by leaders to elevate more women to senior roles. In addition, evidence from 30 European countries indicates that leaders of parties to the left of the political spectrum are more likely to appoint women to ministerial positions (p. 631).

    The data in Figures 3 and 4 suggests that leadership ‘pipeline’ effects are also in play. If there is a smooth flow through the leadership ‘pipeline’, then having more women in parliament should lead to more women in the ministry and shadow ministry.

    Likewise, having more women serving as assistant ministers and in outer ministry roles (and their shadow equivalents) should lead to more women in Cabinet and shadow Cabinet. However, it should not be assumed that women ‘flowing through the pipeline’ is a natural and inevitable process.

    A 2014 Parliamentary Library analysis of ministerial portfolios held by women found that women had most frequently been appointed to portfolios that have traditionally been considered ‘feminine’, such as those relating to community services, women, aged care, health, and education (p. 23).

    Fewer women have been appointed to portfolios that have traditionally been viewed as ‘masculine’, such as minister for finance, foreign affairs, defence, or home affairs, or as Attorney-General. Women who have served in those roles (noting that women have also served in related portfolios) include:

    To date, only one woman, Julia Gillard, has been Australia’s Prime Minister. Australia is yet to have a female Treasurer, unlike, for example, the United States of America or Canada (where the equivalent roles are currently held by women), or New Zealand (where the equivalent role has previously been held by a woman).

    Further reading

     

    This post first appeared on the Parliament of Australia’s website. Read the original here. 

     

    Feature image: Australian Parliament House. Taken on October 30, 2016. This photos is used under CC BY-NC 2.0. Picture: Jerry Skinner

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