Mamænima

Same Sex Marriage - A Rebuttal To Kevin Andrews

2012-02-16T07:33:00.002+11:00

I've never seen an argument against same sex marriage that made me think "hmm, you may have a point there". Arguments against are usually filled with historical inaccuracies, shoddy reasoning, half-truths and evoking a time that never existed outside of the hazy memories of conservative columnists. So it is with this piece by Kevin Andrews in today's Sydney Morning Herald. As can be expected, the former Howard government minister is against it. Also to be expected, the arguments he uses aren't exactly robust:

The one thing that is studiously avoided by the proponents of same-sex unions is the purpose of marriage. Historically, marriage is about the protection of children.

Historically, marriage is about the protection of property, specifically a man's property. The woman he married became his property; his worldly goods would pass down to the legitimate sons who bore his name. Marriage originated in order to secure distribution of assets.

Today there is another, competing view of marriage. Instead of a pro-child social institution, some propose that marriage be based on the gratification of (two) consenting adults. Hence, the self-fulfilment of adults is to replace the social institution centred on the well-being of children.

Even if this point wasn't historically inaccurate, considering straight people can marry and choose not to have children, or marry past reproductive age, or marry and make their childrens' lives hell, or marry and divorce, why should same sex attracted people be the ones to miss out for the sake of the children?

It also ignores the overwhelming social science evidence that such an arrangement is optimal for the well-being of children and the welfare of society

Show me any evidence at all that children being raised by same sex couples are any worse off than children of married straight parents. I'll wait here.

Secondly, it politicises the institution of marriage in a novel and dangerous manner, and extends the role of the state beyond its rightful place. Marriage does not require the state to do anything. However, a redefinition can only occur by state decree. Marriage is no longer a fundamental institution of civil society, but a right, granted by the state.

Are you taking the mickey, Mr Andrews? First of all, marriage has already been redefined by law. We have redefined it as an equal partnership rather than the man having legal possession over the woman. Secondly, politicising marriage? Whilst in government, your party, uniquely in the developed world, actually banned same sex marriage (rather than merely not legalising it) and actually amended the Marriage Act, requiring couples being married to recite vows reinforcing your inaccurate and outmoded definition of marriage - but only if they were married in a civil ceremony (apparently us non religious types can't be trusted to understand just what a sacred reworked institution marriage is). If that's not politicising marriage for your own ends, what the hell is?

It's been said, not wrongly, that the divide on legalising same sex marriage in Australia isn't left-right, but a generational divide. I'm not sure what to blame for Mr Andrews' views, but why do we still need to see crud like this in the mainstream media?

Cross Streets - The Real Crisis In Emergency 000

2012-02-15T11:50:00.001+11:00

Cockatoo Island is one of my favourite places in Sydney. The former ship building yards have been left largely intact - a rarity in this litigious age - with thoughtful historical signage directing the visitor to points of interest and advising on safety. "In the event of an emergency, call 000 and advise the operator you are on Cockatoo Island." I dread the day someone has to make use of this information. The 000 operator will most likely tell them they can't send an ambulance without the name of the nearest cross st.

We accept that working repetitive jobs means switching your brain off somewhat. For some it was never really switched on - I was saddened but not surprised to have my requests at McDonalds for a bag of apple slices met with repeated shakes of the head and mumblings of "sorry, what?" by the girl at the counter, until her manager translated that I was asking for a fruit bag (she couldn't have worked out that a bag of apple slices might be called a bag of apple slices because that's not what its called on the menu). It's annoying, a bit of a laugh, but no big deal.

But what happens when this mindlessness lurches from annoying to dangerous? The concern about 000 emergency phone operators is real. They must share the call script software with taxi companies, because as taxi travellers can tell you these days, a precise street address is the only thing a taxi dispatch operator will accept. It's no use asking for a taxi to, for example, the taxi rank outside Broadway shopping centre - not knowing the exact name of the street the taxi rank is on, we simply couldn't order one; nor could we when trying to order a taxi to a major intersection in Newcastle - Newcastle! - without a street number. It's the same for trying to order taxis to most major landmarks - if you don't know the address, with street number and nearest cross street, you're out of luck.

One could argue that it's the taxi hirer's responsibility to know the pick up address - leaving aside, for instance, the lone figure trying to get home late at night from an unfamiliar and unsafe neighbourhood - but what about when calling emergency 000? The phone operators at 000 show a worrisome and dangerous inability to dispatch emergency services without a precise street address. In late 2010 I was travelling on a bus when an elderly man fainted. It was school finishing time, so I was pretty much the only adult on the bus, apart from the driver who seemed frightened and unsure what to do, and ended up being the one to call 000. The 000 operator refused to send an ambulance without knowing the exact street address and street number. Never mind that I said we're on the bus that's stopped outside a major, very well known Sydney RSL. She wanted the exact street address and I ended up having to send one of the kids on the bus up to the nearest corner to read the name off the street signs. It was, it is ridiculous. I'm out "in the field" with an unconscious elderly man, a bunch of schoolkids ranging from upset to overeager, and a bus driver who kept chanting "oh no, oh no". She is on a computer, in a call centre. Even if the computer system she's using requires an exact street address, couldn't she have just used Google? It's one thing if a caller gives a location of "we're a few miles past the red house...everyone locally knows it". But surely there should be some levity to locate major landmarks. Then there's the question of what happens if there is no street address. I've heard of one instance where the 000 operator indicated they couldn't dispatch emergency services because the caller couldn't provide a street address - and no wonder, as they were calling from a boat that was sinking off the NSW coast. Following the 2009 brawl between rival biker gangs at Sydney airport, a 000 operator demanded to know the street address of the domestic terminal - and told the astonished security guard calling to report the incident that he "needed to get down there are see what is going on before I can send someone" even though the guard informed the operator he was watching the whole thing on CCTV.

When dispatching help to an emergency situation, time is of the essence. The horrifying possibility is that people could die due to the inflexibility of the 000 reporting and location system, but at least one person already has. In 2006, 17 year old David Iredale died of dehydration after becoming lost whilst bushwalking in the Blue Mountains. He had repeatedly called 000 for help - only to be scolded by the 000 operator for failing to provide a street address and yelling due to poor reception. Recordings of the calls were played in the inquest into Mr Iredale's death; I can't even begin to imagine the pain of his parents, having to listen to the dying words of their son and knowing he was in contact with potential help, but it was stymied by bureaucracy, inflexible rules and pettiness. And four years later, nothing had changed when calling emergency services in NSW. During slow news cycles, the media loves to run stories about ridiculous and petty calls to 000, typically featuring callers who have burnt their dinner, have an ingrown toenail or are running late to a job interview and are out of phone credit. It's true that these time wasting callers are a huge problem. But so is the current system of reporting actual emergencies, and we hear nothing about it.

The Breastfeeding Wars

2012-02-08T12:20:00.002+11:00

Is there any aspect of parenthood which is as emotion-charged, divisive and angst ridden as breastfeeding? Just mention breastfeeding on any parenting forum and the responses pour in - often highly emotive. If someone publishes an article on the benefits of private schooling, no one replies "we can't afford to send our kids to private school, so you shouldn't print stuff like this; it is cruel and hurtful". But mention the benefits of breastfeeding, and the will be a barrage of such responses on how people desperately tried to breastfeed and were unable to, so it is unfair to write of the benefits of breastfeeding. Perhaps, perhaps. Given that 90% of Australian women at least make an attempt to breastfeed, maybe more information on the benefits of breastfeeding is not what we need to increase breastfeeding rates. What is the answer then? Do we need as a society to be more understanding of the idea that breastfeeding is not for everyone?

It seems like heresy to go against the pro-breastfeeding mantra of modern parenting. But - shock, horror - given my time over, I'm not sure I would breastfeed. The pressure I felt to breastfeed was intense. I started out with a great deal of optimism, but we had a bad latch, and things got more and more painful until eventually one nipple tore in half, the other was chapped and bleeding, and every feed felt like having a vice clamped over an open wound. Of course every feed means every hour or so whilst trying to establish breastfeeding with a newborn, and it got so that every time BabyG cried, I would cry and cringe too, knowing the pain was about to start again. It was so bad that I feel twinges of pain now every time I hear of someone trying to breastfeed their first, and I can barely remember most of the first weeks of my son's life - the pain has blacked out those memories. Even to write this now brings me to tears. But at no stage did someone say to me "you know, if this is all too hard, you don't have to do this". I wish someone had told me that I could give him formula, and he wouldn't be in any way deprived, and it would not make me a bad mother. But no one said it. All I got was pressure - from books, from medical staff, perceived from family, friends and society - to just push on. So I did, and eventually it got better.

We've been at it now for nearly six months, and I had every intention of reaching that magical twelve month mark. We'd worked so hard at it, I wasn't going to give in now. Until this week, when with an internal groan I thought of the pumping I would have to do to provide BabyG with milk for a baby-free day out DH and I have planned. Feeling resentful of the many hours I would spend attached to the breast pump in order to produce a couple of paltry feeds, this time a little voice inside piped up. "You know, if this is all too hard, you don't have to do it". The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Heck, sense - it was like being handed a getting out of jail free card. I've been kidding myself that I've been enjoying breastfeeding all these months. Due to my sensory issues, having BabyG attached to me all that time is pretty unpleasant for me - especially as he no longer feeds calmly, but twists, kicks, grabs handfuls of flesh in his tiny fists (and teeth are on their way). I can never take a night off whilst DH handles feeding duties. I would love to not have to stop at just one glass of wine. I would like to be able to go out for more than a few hours. And the tantalising idea of returning to work dangles like a nice juicy plum. I'm sure for some women all these issues can be handled with pumping and storing milk but I am not a very efficient pumper, and also, I hate it.

Do I have a "right" to stop feeding, though? I'm very well aware of the benefits of breastfeeding - it's why I persevered with it in the first place long after I realistically should have stopped. Can I quit now just because I don't much like it? Will BabyG get that much more benefit out of it, especially now we are moving on to solids? Is breastfeeding where it is physically possible a case of "my body, my choice", or is it just one of those things, like getting up in the middle of the night, which we all find pretty disagreeable but just have to do?

I'm not sure where to access practical help to do this. The pro-breastfeeding message is so strong I know I'd have to give lengthy justifications for wishing to wean before I can be judged worthy of doing so. How can I say I know all the benefits of breastfeeding but want to stop doing so anyway? The Australian Breastfeeding Association has for years been trying to increase breastfeeding rates by providing information on the health benefits of breastfeeding. Rates are not increasing, so they do more of what isn't working. It's serving to create a culture of guilt and resentment that may, in fact, create a backlash against the pro-breastfeeding camp. There are obviously other issues than the health of the child at stake. Of course BabyG's health is important to me. But we have made an enormous investment of time by choosing to breastfeed him, precluding me from returning to work for at least another several months if I continue. Who is to say he would not benefit more in the long term from the increased household income of my returning to work? As someone wiser than me pointed out, breastfeeding is only free if a woman's time is deemed worthless. Yes, it takes time to prepare formula, and yes babies do benefit from the one-on-one time. In an isolationist society, are we doing anyone any favours by telling new mothers that for the sake of their children, they must be physically bound to them for the first several months of life? Does that one on one time need to be with Mum?

I'm nothing unique, of course; there are many stories like mine, and I'm not sure where we should all go with them. If we keep going on like this we run the risk of a two-tier feeding hierarchy; the blessed breastfeeders and the shunned, rebellious refusers. It doesn't have to be this way. We need a new dialogue, one that understands there are many reasons a woman doesn't breastfeed, and it's not just because doesn't understand the benefits or hasn't tried hard enough. I understand, and I have tried. I have the greatest respect for long-term breastfeeders. But I am coming to realise I am not going to be one of them.

The Beauty of Newcastle

2012-02-07T10:45:00.001+11:00

The figs may be gone, and have left a scar on the city, but anyone who says the only beautiful thing about Newcastle is gone is wrong. Newcastle may have a strange brutal industrial beauty, but it's still one that breaks my heart.

Screwing It For The Kids

2012-02-03T10:56:00.000+11:00

As a society we have an unfortunate tendency to get all worked up over nothing - then elect them. People elect Coalition governments hoping they will make everything better, then act surprised that they act like Coalition governments. The conservative side of politics doesn't have human interest as their main concern; they never have. So far in their just over ten months in office in NSW, the O'Farrell government has failed to do much of anything. Sure they inherited a dysfunctional public transport system from Labor, but they really should have made some progress by now; things are getting worse, not better. The NSW economy continues to tank. And this week, they have been responsible for three acts of incompetence and heartlessness affecting vulnerable kids. First, children with disabilities were left without assisted transport to school after the government failed to reach an agreement on funding for the scheme. Then it looks likely that school support services for students with disabilites will be cut in a school funding overhaul.

All bad enough, but the Coalition have also proposed an act of breathtaking meanness even for them - threatening to cut financial support for the foster parents of children aged 16 and 17. The Coalition is insisting foster children negotiate with their carers over distribution of the Youth Allowance, whilst also denying FTB; leaving foster families $214 a fortnight worse off than families with legal guardinanship of their children. When we consider the role foster parents play in the lives of older teens in foster care, it is incredibly petty. One set of foster parents have bravely decided to stand on principle, calling the government's bluff and saying they will no longer care for their foster children once they reach the age of 16. It's a heartbreaking dilemma I'm sure they didn't want to have to face.

There are relatively few children over 16 in foster care, some 1100 - kids don't enter the DOCS system in NSW over the age of 16, and kids aged 14-15 who enter usually go to refuges not foster homes so kids that age in foster care have usually been with their families for years. Foster families who keep kids past age 16 do the community and these vulnerable kids an enormous service. The expectation seems to be that foster carers will just keep doing this out of the goodness of their hearts. I'm sure most want to, or wish they could, but they are entitled to financial recompense as well. Foster care for older teenagers actually results in huge savings to the community - either from one less young person needing a place in the overburdened youth refuge system or worse, ending up homeless, which has a huge financial and social cost upon us all.

I'm sure these people are not doing it to be spiteful, but to highlight this underreported problem in our society - older teenagers who require out of home care. The system is flawed and has gaping holes for vulnerable young people to fall into, the government should do everything they can to try to close the gaps.

Figs Fury

2012-02-01T11:02:00.004+11:00

The sorry saga of the Laman St figs in Newcastle has been dragging on for years - Newcastle City Council wanted these beautiful trees, an iconic symbol of Newcastle and one of the few pretty places in the CBD, to be removed, as the story goes, in order to construct an underground carpark under Civic Park, so they rushed through a proposal to remove them based on flimsy evidence they were a danger to public safety. The many supporters of the trees, outraged such pointless environmental vandalism could take place, fought every step of the way. I was horrified by the idea - posting back in September 2010 about how beautiful the trees were, how much they meant to me, and how they must not be destroyed.

Laman St Newcastle, September 2010

Yesterday, though, it was all over. At 5am (breaking their own noise regulations), Council sent in the chainsaws, and despite furious protests apparently necessitating the presence of the riot squad, by the end of the day substantial portions of the trees had been removed. Laman St has been left scarred and ugly, but not nearly as ugly as the reaction to their removal. The comments section of the Newcastle Herald, along with threads on Facebook, was brimming with those triumphing over the loss of the trees. They could barely contain their malicious glee. "Chop chop! I'll be having drinks in the sun on Laman St tonight" crowed one idiot amongst hundreds of similar comments. "I'm sick of hearing about the figs" ran the refrain from people who felt the need to read and comment on every article about them. There were references to the waste of money - when the cheapest course of action would have been to leave the trees alone. Some claimed the trees were ugly - which begs the question of why they didn't stick to the thousands of streets in Newcastle without fig trees. To judge from the quality of written expression displayed, it's not like the chop-chop brigade frequent libraries or art galleries (they can't even work out no one has used axes to fell trees in many years). There was anger at the protesters for disregarding the wishes of a democratically elected council - although the figs were never an election issue; the last council elections were in 2008 and figs were not mentioned. By the same logic I hope those who want the trees down are big carbon tax supporters. Then there was the argument that the protesters should not be hindering the tree loppers and police "just trying to do their jobs".

Why is doing your job an excuse for anything? Many war crimes trials have proven that "I was just following orders" is no defence. Removing the trees is hardly on the level of a war crime, but if someone is doing something deeply wrong, in a free country we have a right to protest that. If the tree removalists had refused to cut down the trees, there would have been no problem; they didn't, they were happy to take the money to engage in this senseless vandalism; that behaviour deserves scorn not protection. Ditto the police, who could have refused to protect the tree loppers. They didn't. No one deserves to be assaulted, but standing up for what's right should take precedence over just doing your job. The police and tree loppers did not have to be there. They chose to take money to destroy the trees. Why should that be respected? Would the people who say the loppers are just doing their jobs stand aside if DoCS came to take their kids - or even merely complain if a waiter messed up their order? They're "just doing their jobs", after all.

The media coverage was, I'm sad to say, highly biased, as we get to the nasty issue of the death threats. Several of the NCC councillors who voted in favour of the trees' removal reported receiving death threats - something I'm sure any decent person, and the vast majority of those who wanted the trees to stay, would abhor. But there were threats aplenty on Facebook threads of what the cop-chop brigade wanted to do to the protesters - mostly involving axes, chainsaws and teargas. The threats were pulled from Facebook as soon as they went up, but the nasty spirit remained. The act of protesting itself was decried - Australia seems to have little tolerance for anyone protesting anything; sadly we've become a nation of sit-at-home-and-whingers instead.

The most heartbreaking aspect of it all was the destruction of the spirit in which the trees were planted. I'm sure those calling for the trees' removal would think of themselves as proud Australians who defend the ANZAC tradition. But the trees themselves were planted by ANZACS, returned WW1 veterans who intended them to be a living memorial to their lost brothers-in-arms. (Interesting blog post on this issue, including the original Newcastle Herald article, here). Why did we hear so little of this from the Herald today? Would it have tempered the schadenfreude of those who demanded the trees be gone? Or is even the desecration of a war memorial worth it to them for them to get their way?

Those who loved the trees wanted them to stay because they are beautiful, a home for wildlife, part of the city's heritage, a living war memorial, part of personal histories and no demonstrated threat to anyone. Those who wanted them gone wished to spite the people who wanted them to stay. So who is claiming the moral high ground here? The councillors and supporters who want the figs down wanted to make Laman St as heartless and ugly as they are, and congratulations, they are succeeding.

Laman St February 1, courtesy the Newcastle Herald

The Summer of Cricket (Adventures in PND)

2012-01-28T09:56:00.003+11:00

I've been watching a bit of test cricket lately. No one is more surprised by this than me. I've never watched cricket in my life - I'm Irish, so it never figured in our house growing up - and I still have very little idea what's going on. You don't really need to, though. What appeals to me about the cricket is the very soothing dullness of it. As Bill Bryson described it:

Imagine a form of baseball in which the pitcher, after each delivery, collects the ball from the catcher and walks slowly with it out to center field; and that there, after a minute's pause to collect himself, he turns and runs full tilt toward the pitcher's mound before hurling the ball at the ankles of a man who stands before him wearing a riding hat, heavy gloves of the sort used to handle radioactive isotopes, and a mattress strapped to each leg. Imagine moreover that if this batsman fails to hit the ball in a way that heartens him sufficiently to try to waddle forty feet with mattresses strapped to his legs, he is under no formal compunction to run; he may stand there all day, and, as a rule, does. If by some miracle he is coaxed into making a misstroke that leads to his being put out, all the fielders throw up their arms in triumph and have a hug. Then tea is called and everyone retires happily to a distant pavilion to fortify for the next siege. Now imagine all this going on for so long that by the time the match concludes autumn has crept in and all your library books are overdue. There you have cricket. (Read more here)

Watching a dull game I don't understand is all the stimulation I can take at the moment, just what I need. You see, up until a few weeks ago, I was getting a little smug about this motherhood business. BabyG slept well, was hitting his milestones early, at the top of the charts for growth. I thought I had the hang of the whole thing and was getting ready to return to work. Then, yippee-ki-yay, the dreaded four month sleep regression hit. BabyG went from sleeping twelve hours with a tiny feed he just about slept through, to screaming himself awake every ninety minutes and being almost bloody impossible to console. Once 5am came, that was it, he was up for the day. The lack of sleep was at first a novelty, then disorienting and nauseating, and finally caused me to slip into territory I smugly thought I had avoided: the land of post natal depression. I ticked several risk factors for PND, but showed no signs in the early months and thought it wasn't going to happen to me. But as I stared down the third day in a row where I'd been up with the baby for three hours by 8am, DH hadn't even left for work yet and wouldn't be home for another ten, crying over being trapped and clawed at and really freaking exhausted, I had to admit it might be time I got some help.

PND has lost a lot of stigma over the last few years, thanks to brave souls who are willing to go public with their stories. Still, very few are prepared to admit they have PND when they are in the middle of it - most will only describe what happened to them when it's all over. I think it can be hard to see the signs of depression when you're actually suffering them (both DH and I have long histories and professional training in this, so we knew what to look out for and spotted it straight away); but also, by admitting you have post natal depression right now, you leave yourself open to being judged. "Is she hurting her baby? Surely if she loved/wanted him enough she'd be happy?". I've got a heightened fear of being judged - a couple of years ago, some cruel soul who admittedly knew me best in my mid twenties, when I really wasn't a great candidate for parenthood, told me they hoped I couldn't have kids because I'd be a crappy mother. I've never quite shaken it, and I'm always worried that if BabyG isn't clean, well-dressed, well-fed, bright, plump and happy that someone will say "See? Right! Terrible mother", and take him away. I know this paranoia is a symptom of my depression, but having worked in child protection, I'm also aware of just how hard health professionals look for signs of neglect or abuse, and I'm terrified of inadvertently showing any.

We live in a nation where perhaps 40% of the population think Tony Abbott is a fit and proper person to become Prime Minister, so it's perhaps not surprising that so many misconceptions about PND remain. During the many heartbreaking years I was for the time to be right to have a child, I thought to myself I wouldn't possibly get PND, as I had waited so long and would love my child so much. How wrong. It's got nothing to do with love - no one with post natal depression loves their child any less because of it, I absolutely adore BabyGPND? I don't know. Why does anyone get depression? It's not about being tough or resourceful or needing to harden up, it's about a chemical imbalance in the brain, which I am genetically prone to. That's all.

There's so much going on at the moment. I've started wonderful new work with endless opportunity; we're contemplating a major move; this week has been ripe with events for the blogger to sink their teeth into. I'm too tired for any of it. I feel like life, and my only child's infancy, is passing me by. We are lucky to live in a nation with an excellent health and welfare system, even now - I'm receiving treatment, and therapy, and sleep school are getting involved; we don't have to pay a cent for any of this. I had myself together enough, with the help of DH, to get help early, and I'll be better soon I'm sure, with no harm done to me or BabyG in the long run. But for now it's all beyond me. This summer, cricket is all I can handle.

The Hell With Labor

2012-01-25T20:50:00.000+11:00

Back when the whole Bill Henson nude child photos controversy was in the media, I felt like the only lefty art lover in Australia who thought what Henson did was really, deeply wrong. The worst thing was the company I kept; I wanted to be on the side of the arty types I admired, not - dear god - Miranda bloody Devine.

I've always derided the Julia Gillard haters. I'm not talking about the people who evaluate her entire record and have justifiable concerns with some of the decisions she's made; I'm talking about those rabid opponents of everything she does not matter what; the type who clog talkback radio, who were declaring in the comments of New Ltd websites the day she rose to the position that she was the Worst Prime Minister ever. Those people. They don't want a female Prime Minister, they don't understand how democracy works, they don't know what the government does, all they know is they're against it. Even though I stopped supporting Labor years ago, like so many deeply disappointed over their policies on everything from same sex marriage to asylum seekers, I felt compelled to defend the Gillard government in the face of the poisonous, illogical rantings of the Juliar carbon tax opponents, the turn-the-boats-around brigade and the Gillard is in bed with Bob Brown bunch.

But now, I'm angry. Now Gillard has really ticked me off. There have been noises for a few weeks that the relationship between Greens and Labor federally has broken down, and Bob Brown - who has more honour in his little finger than Julia Gillard has in her entire body - confirmed recently that he and Gillard are no longer having regular meetings, following the government's breaking of the agreements over logging of Tasmanian forests. But I held my wrath until, in line with the modern Labor tradition of selling out to Big Business and populism, Gillard reneged on the agreement to introduce mandatory pre-commitment on poker machines, instead agreeing only to a trial in the ACT for the next few years. How many lives across Australia will be ruined in those years? Those people have been sold out by a Prime Minister too cowardly to tell the Australian people that they are being lied to by Clubs Australia and the poker machine industry.

Does this government stand for anything? They stand by and allow the Australian people to be lied to - by big business on poker machine reform and the mining super profits tax; by radio shock jocks on asylum seekers, by complete lunatics on climate change - without demurring; they don't lead, they don't even follow, they just mince about helplessly, taking the populist route and losing. Who the hell do they think they are going to impress? The conservatives and bigots they seem to be trying to attract will never vote for them, convinced they are aligned with the Greens; actual Greens and leftists are disgusted by their record and want nothing to do with them anymore. It's been asked recently could the Labor party be dying. Let it. To hell with them.

My Stars - The New Young Talent Time

2012-01-23T17:41:00.007+11:00

Like so many other Australian children of my generation, growing up there was pretty much nothing on Earth I wanted more than to be on Young Talent Time. To be a star on the all-signing, all-dancing, dreadful-joke telling, pineapple-costume wearing variety show that was a staple of Australian television through the 1970s and 1980s? Where do I sign up? The show sent my imagination into a spin. I sang, I danced, I begged my mother to make me a dress with a sequined bodice and bubble skirt. I wanted to be one of those kids so badly it hurt.

What child wouldn't want to dress like this? Courtesy News Mail.

Of course there were several obstacles in my way. For a start the show was filmed in Melbourne, and we lived in Sydney; I'd never received any form of singing or dancing training, despite my pleas (my father regarded spending money on children for anything that wasn't absolutely necessary as spoiling them); and most crucially, I had no talent whatsoever - my singing makes those around me cringe no matter how drunk they are, and my aspergery self has stubbornly resists all attempts at dance and physical training I've paid for as an adult in an attempt to recover the youthful dreams so cruelly snatched away.

Yet I had mixed feelings when I heard Channel Ten was reviving Young Talent Time. What would a YTT for the modern market look like - slick, soulless, constant admonitions to vote and download? I sat down to watch the first episode last night - and was utterly transfixed. It was all there from the original - the cheesy dances running back and forth across the stage; going to the break on a refrain; the bizarre backdrops, in this case a projected band (I'm still waiting for the return of the puppets). And the kids were just terrific; I was particularly impressed by Michelle's voice and Tia's stage presence. It was a wonderful blend of the old and the new; a changing of the guard vibe that acknowledged the history of the show whilst allowing it to progress. Of course, the show has it's detractors. Yes I know it's cheesier than a stack of ten discarded pizza boxes; I'm of a nostalgic frame of mind but if I weren't, Young Talent Time would be pretty much the last thing I'd want to watch.

Now, I believe I may have mentioned I have big dreams for BabyG. The return of YTT sent a fresh dream soaring. Okay, so I can never be a YTT team member - but my kid can be a YTT team member! My stars, how I would love that. The costumes, the songs, the glamour - except instead of having to stay modest about my achievements, I can boast endlessly about BabyG's achievements! Now I just need the bloody show to stay on the air for the 8 or so years it will take for BabyG to be trained, auditioned, and accepted as a team member. It needs to rate well. So watch the damn thing, or else you're destroying a little boy's dreams. (They are his dreams, even if he doesn't know it yet).

A Gamble We Must Win

2012-01-20T20:33:00.000+11:00

I envy people who have moral certitude. DH is what I would refer to as a fundamentalist atheist. Convinced there is no god, that there couldn't possibly be a god, that in the face of the evidence it is foolish to believe otherwise. He spends hours reading and debating atheist philosophy I can't pretend to understand, but the basic principle is simple. No god. I envy that. I'm all confused. I would describe myself, depending on how I'm feeling on the day, as anything from semi-agnostic lapsed Catholic through to atheist. It's hard to escape the Irish Catholic upbringing, and I've never quite gotten over the concept of sin. I'm a lefty these days, of course, which means there aren't many things I would actually class as a sin that don't involve cruelty to small children or animals. But if there's one thing I would class as sinful, it's gambling. Everything about it is wrong. I don't think we should all go around wearing hair shirts at the state of the world - be mindful of others, but enjoy your life - but come on. Money means so little to you you can afford, in essence, to throw it away? And if you do win, it means many others have had to lose to provide you with those winnings. I understand for many though it's a disease, an addiction - they've fallen for the claims of the gambling industry, the false promises of those who profit at their expense, who are the ones to whom we should direct our ire. The whole thing just seems deeply, deeply wrong to me.

If gambling is bad, poker machines are the lowest form of the practice. Bright and colourful, playing cheerful enticing music reminiscent of the fairground attractions of old, they lure in the desperate and the lonely as well as the drunk and greedy. NSW has the shameful title of the world's poker machine capital - one in ten (!) of the world's poker machines are in my home state; Australia as a nation is home to 20% of the global total. It's a horrific figure, built off the sufferings of thousands upon thousands of people; the poker machine addicts and their families. And whilst it's true that most poker machine users aren't gambling addicts, most poker machine revenue comes from those with a gambling problem.

Something needs to be done, and I can only applaud the bravery of Independent MP Andrew Wilkie, who has taken on a mammoth task in attempting to pass legislation that will require gamblers to limit their bets before they make them - stemming, one would hope, the out-of-control gambling that comes as a pokies user loses what they have, then goes into debt trying desperately to win it back. Of course, the poker machine industry, enamoured of the rivers of cash that flow from the misery of problem gamblers, have no intention of going down without a fight. With their massive financial power, they're undertaking a massive campaign against the changes, claiming that they won't work to stop problem gambling (wrong), that betting limits are un-Australian (puerile) and most indefensibly, that community and charitable groups will be hobbled as registered clubs, deprived of their poker machine revenue, will no longer be able to afford to support them. I've written previously about how clubs boast of their community involvement and charitable contributions whilst in reality, they give very little of their revenue "back to the community" - every registered club is legally required to publish their annual financial statements; check out your local club and see just what percentage of revenue they give to their precious community groups. The pokies lobby portrays movements to curb problem gambling as taking the footballs out of the hands of little kids who wish to play. It's emotive bullshit, it's a lie, and it's a scandal that the media lets them get away with it.

The pokies lobby is going to fight dirty here, so it's important everyone who supports these reforms - or even those who aren't sure and would like more information - checks out Stop the Loss, a coalition dedicated to poker machine reform. We need to show that the poker machine lobby can't lie to ordinary Australians to get their way any more. And to press the Labor government to make the reforms law. I've even defended Julia Gillard over the carbon tax, but this goes beyond politics - Gillard must live up to her election promises and not be swayed by the pressure of a wealthy lobby group over the welfare of many, many good hardworking people seduced by the lure and lie of the pokies.

Under Review

2012-01-18T16:50:00.001+11:00

Remember the old days when you had to rely on the opinions of people you knew, liked and trusted when making decisions about places to stay and eat? No more! Now thanks to internet reviews, there's the opinions of thousands of random strangers to ignore when making holiday decisions! At least, I can only assume online opinions are being ignored, otherwise why on Earth would people continue to stay here? I've walked past this place, and it looks like what you think it's going to look like. So who is staying there? I can only surmise either people who don't log on to review sites until after they've visited a place, or people who have read the reviews but think that for them, somehow, it will be different (there's a third, terrifying category - those who see this as some sort of hardcore, Ultimate Accommodation experience). Admittedly it's not all bad. At least it won't be your generic Holiday Inn experience where it doesn't matter if you're in Prague or Anchorage, you're getting the same dull sterile hotel room. As for "the manager threw a tape measure at us when we complained" - that's the sort of personalised service you just don't get in your big chain shitty hotels. Some may even see it as a sign of hope that the entire world has not yet succumbed to the sterilising effects of corporatisation. Me, well I can only goggle in horror that there are twenty hotels in Sydney with worse average reviews.

If entire nations had reviews, this guy needs to carefully read the review for Australia. He sounds fairly typical of his sort - a young(ish) British media type who has had enough with the pitiful state of his home country, what with the economy and the rioting and the weather, and has decided, without ever stepping foot here, that Australia is the answer - the sunny, peaceful, happy answer to his apathy in the UK. He seems like a nice enough young man, and we do have boundless plains to share - we'll be happy to have him here. But does he really know what he's getting himself in for? Does he realise our Prime Minister is more despised than cool, and that the price of property and nearly everything else is ridiculous, and that his dream of heading to the beach on the way home from work is a reality for only a tiny percentage - that if he lives in Sydney, it is more likely he will finish work and spend ninety minutes on a crowded, smelly, and non-air conditioned train heading home to a suburb he can afford to live in? Does he have any idea how cut off from culture he will feel compared to his life in London? Does he know that, forget the whingeing Pom, Australians are engaging in a national orgy of collective complaining, convinced life has never been so hard for the "average" of us?

Like with the the hotel patrons though, I'm sure if he did read all this, he wouldn't believe it, or think it applied to him. Well, come on down then, but don't say you weren't warned.

A Piece of Cake

2012-01-14T10:29:00.001+11:00

Motherhood to me isn't just about providing a warm nurturing environment in which BabyG can reach his full potential. It's also a vicious, blood thirsty competition that I have to win or kill everyone else and myself in the process of trying. Good is not good enough. I have to have the cutest, smartest, best dressed baby. No pressure in him though - the failure is all on my head, for I must also have the most secure and well adjusted baby. It's a lot to live up to.

The thing to do on blogs these days is make a rainbow cake and post about it; following in the steps of Whisk Kid, whose rainbow cake was so beautiful, so perfect, she appeared on Martha Stewart to illuminate its superiority. No dedicated Mommy or baking blogger can hold up their head without a post about the rainbow cake; how difficult it was, but how the spectacular results were all worth it - especially to see the looks of delight on the faces of the assembled children when the rainbow cake was produced. We're holding a small naming ceremony for BabyG soon. He's too little to care if I serve cake or cans of out-of-date imported tuna bought in a bulk lot from Go-Lo. It doesn't matter. In order to prove what a loving and competent Mummy I am, I have to make a rainbow cake.

Courtesy of Whisk Kid

The thing is, I'm not much of a baker. It's been seven years, but I don't think I'll ever really get over The Cheesecake Incident. In the intervening years, I've baked a few simple cakes, but never anything like a layered rainbow cake, and never for a crowd. The potential for disaster is enormous. It's hard to escape mental images of arriving at the ceremony with my sad attempt at a cake leaning precariously to one side, forcing DH to try to shore up the sides with makeshift rigging using chopsticks. Or worse, cutting the thing open only to realise the orange layer is back home in the freezer, completely forgotten; leading a guest's three-year-old to burst into tears and proclaim "that's not a real rainbow cake!". If I had any sense I'd be on the phone to the Cheesecake Shop right now ordering something that won't disappoint everyone, but what can I say, I believe in the triumph of hope over experience. My kid is going to get a rainbow cake, and everyone is going to enjoy it, whether they like it or not.

My efforts to win Mother of the Year don't stop there. I've left it a bit late, true - he was eligible to start two weeks ago - but it's time to enrol BabyG in swimming lessons. I thought it would be a simple matter of turning up at 11am some Tuesday and paying a fee, but no. Apparently the pool I've chosen is very popular, and to win a spot for our little precious, I had to submit to enrollment day. According to the website, enrollment day meant showing up at the pool at 6am to queue for a ticket in the lottery which is drawn later that day to allocate spaces in the lessons. You have to be there when the lottery is drawn or miss out, of course, and apparently even with a winning ticket it can be a bit dicey, as parents resort to cheating and lying in an effort to secure the best, or indeed any, spot. Hardcore, sure, but no hardship is too great to ensure BabyG does the right swimming lessons with the right sort of babies; a simple suburban pool just won't cut it for him. So I polished off my steel-capped Docs, sharpened my nails and stocked up on caffeinated drinks for the big day (I couldn't run the coffee machine at that hour, of course - it might disturb the baby's sleep). I was ready for any queue of hardened swimming mothers. I would do whatever it took to get a spot for BabyG, sure he'd thank me for all this later.

Then I learned that the pool was abandoning the ticket lottery method of enrollment. All I have to do is send off a form and someone would call about a time for the baby's lessons. I feel strangely flat and let down - I wanted to prove what a great mother I am by hurting someone. I'll have to think of something else. Is it too early to become a relentless stage mom?

The Saddest Trip

2012-01-12T20:32:00.000+11:00

Just to warn people - this post is about suicide, particularly suicide by train. Some of the details are gory and upsetting. I have included them not to be exploitative but to emphasise the horror of it all, and hopefully start people thinking. If you have an issue with what I have written, please contact me to discuss it. Thanks.

Last night it was with a heavy heart I read of a fatality on the rail line not far from where we live. As it turns out, the young man who was killed was likely spraying graffiti on the rail line before he was struck. Tragic and horrible for his family - some might say he deserved his fate for trespassing on railway property to deface it, but I really don't think spraying graffiti quite warrants the death penalty.

At first when I heard the news however, I assumed he had taken his own life. It's depressingly familiar, in every sense of the term, to the regular rail commuter - barely a week goes by without the announcement of delays on the network due to a fatality; what with Christmas recently, it seemed to be happening nearly every day. There have been four in my local area, just whilst I've been paying attention, in the past six months, including a young woman whom I knew slightly from years ago, who died last August in almost the exact same place as the young man last night. Whilst a very few of these deaths are accidents, the vast majority are suicides. Many years ago whilst travelling through Newtown, I saw the body of what I later learned to be a train suicide, lying on the tracks under a sheet. Haunted by this for many months, I wanted to know who the victim was. Googling got me nowhere - all I was able to ascertain was the victim was male; my questions went unanswered. Who was he? How old, where did he live, what did he do? What was he like? Did he have a family that missed him? What on Earth led him to take that saddest of trips and end his life in such a public and horrible way? All was silence. The Australian media have a taboo on the reporting of suicide, in the belief that discussing the subject will encourage people to do it. But people are doing it anyway. We need to talk about this.

The shame, stigma and silence surrounding suicide remains. "Selfish way to go", seems to be the general thought about train suicides, "what about the poor driver who has to live with that forever? What about the police who have to clean it up?". It is hard to imagine the horror a train driver must feel sitting in their cabin and seeing a person on the tracks, throwing on the brakes but knowing you cannot avoid impact (apparently in the Netherlands train drivers seats swivel, so they can turn away to avoid witnessing the collision with persons who commit suicide by train. This is possibly apocryphal, but what is for sure is that a Sydney train driver can expect at least two or three train strikes over the course of a career). Nor is it fun to think of the police officer wandering the track in the rain for ninety minutes because the body collection is not deemed complete until both feet have been recovered. It's not just on the trains either. On average, one person a week in jumps off The Gap, a cliff in Sydney's east - traumatic for the nearby residents, and for the police rescue squad who have to pluck the remains from the rocks at the bottom. And when the stories hit the media - always discussing the trend generally, never specific cases unless the jumper is well known - lively debate is stirred up. The thoughtlessness of such an act and its' effect on those who have to (literally) pick up the pieces is the dominant theme. Maybe these are selfish acts, but to get caught up with this really misses the point. What of the feelings of those who have taken the jump? Up to 80% of people have apparently given suicide at least fleeting thought in their lives. If we filter that down, and bearing in mind the percentage of the population which have suffered major depression, perhaps one in ten people have given serious consideration to a suicide plan. There are many of us who have stood on the train platform in the dark, perhaps sobbing, perhaps resolute and relieved, watching the trains pass, so heavy and swift. What divides those who step off from those who step back and, eventually, head home? Those who jump must know, I guess, what is about to happen to them. What mental state have they reached to make this seem preferable to continue the slow sad shuffle of life?

The suicides on the train lines and at The Gap are the ones we see, at least to the small extent that the protectionist media will allow. There are the silent majority we don't - the overdoses and hangings, the car over the guardrail on a straight stretch of road in good weather which the police class as an accident to spare the family. It is all swept aside, not discussed. The media taboo is in place, along with an agreement that any news article discussing suicide will feature the phone number for Lifeline. Lifeline do a valuable service to be sure, but as unpaid volunteers without professional qualification, should they be the ones on society's frontline between the suicidal and the edge? For whatever we are doing as a society to prevent suicide right now, it's not working, or it isn't working well enough. "Get help" becomes the advice to those contemplating desperate acts, as if the torments and tragedies of life could be managed by an hour's counselling a week; as if those planning to take their last, saddest trip have not already in many cases been down that path already, and found it indifferent, or damaging. Advising professional help allows the rest of us to sweep the problems of the suicidal aside, we've done our bit, it's all too nasty and upsetting, best to walk away, to leave the problems to someone else. Is our society fundamentally failing people? Or should we accept that life's not for everyone, suicide is a freedom to which we are all entitled and we should afford people better than the indignity of suicide by train? I don't know what the answer is, but we need to talk about these things.

A Chat About Vaccination

2012-01-05T12:16:00.000+11:00

There seems to be the beginnings of a whooping cough epidemic underway in Western Australia, and it has brought the issue of vaccination into discussion - not that it ever really goes away. Whooping cough is a horrible illness. When I was expecting BabyG, I asked all our extended family to get boosters; I had a booster myself before leaving hospital, and was wary of taking him out until he hit the six week mark when he could have his first vaccination, which we took him for straight away.

There's a lot of anger directed at those deemed the cause of this outbreak - the anti-vaccinators, and chief target of their ire is Meryl Dorey, head of the Australian Vaccination Network, who appears regularly in the media to discuss the risks of vaccinations. Some of her views are extremely dangerous - she believes in the efficacy of homeopathic vaccinations, for example, and has spoken on Indigenous Radio linking vaccinations with a doubling in infant death rates - which, given the health status of indigenous children, in grossly irresponsible (and that's being generous). The possible outcomes of outbreaks of some of these communicable diseases in remote indigenous communities are horrifying. Don't mistake me - I think that most of what Ms Dorey says is inaccurate and dangerous. I am not anti-vaccination; as I said above, BabyG was vaccinated as soon as he was old enough for his first dose.

However, there is another group with extremist views on vaccination who may be doing just as much harm. The extremist pro-vaccinators. They do not reflect the views of all who choose to vaccinate, or all in the medical profession, but they are so vociferous and shrill they are controlling and stifling debate about vaccination in this country. They hold that vaccination should be compulsory and all who don't vaccinate are harmful selfish idiots. Well, they are entitled to their opinions, but where they become dangerous is where they refuse to admit that there could possibly be problems with vaccination we don't know about. According to them, there are no undocumented reactions, no errors in the testing processes, and in this instance alone, pharmaceutical companies and government are working together without thought of financial gain for the good of all. Anyone who ventures an alternative opinion is deemed a nutcase, a whacko, asked if they wear a tinfoil hat.

Why do extremist pro-vaccinators have these views? Why can they not support a position that holds vaccination is the best defence we have against communicable diseases, and that our goal should be the safest vaccinations for all, and in order to obtain this we need to document reactions and hold the pharmaceutical companies to account? I'm guessing that the reason they do this is that any mention of a reason not to vaccinate will provide fodder for the anti-vaccination group, so they need to shut down all dissent immediately. Their reasons may be good, but the results are disastrous. First of all, problems with vaccines not apparent in initial testing may not be reported when the vaccine goes into general use. Second, if people do develop health problems as a result of receiving vaccines, they are isolated, unable to identify or treat their conditions. Pro-vaccinators warp all logic - where is the evidence, they say, of undocumented reactions; a logical fallacy. Busy, overworked suburban GPs, on the frontline of vaccination provision, may not report vaccination reactions - because of the extra documentation and work required in doing so, because reactions can easily be dismissed as due to other causes, and most worryingly because they themselves fear the backlash from the extremist pro-vaccinators. If there is one thing I agree with the AVN about, is that there should be a mandatory national register of vaccination reactions. If reactions are rare and mild, as the pro-vaccination lobby claims, great! We'll know for sure. But if not, we will be able to pinpoint errors in the vaccines and fix them, and more importantly, scared, isolated parents who can see real changes in their children following vaccinations, will be able to access the support they need.

One of the central tenets of the extremist pro-vaccinators beliefs is that it is insane to think that governments across the world are in league with government and the medical profession to make money pumping kids full of poison. Well, sure. But are we to believe that the system never breaks down? That despite the extensive testing, something couldn't slip through the system? Not according to the extremist pro-vaccinators. Vaccines, uniquely among the extensive history of medical errors and pharmaceutical product recalls, are completely safe. It's nonsense, of course, but more worrying is evidence form this article in the Buenos Aires Herald that pharmaceutical companies are illegally testing vaccines in third-world nations to bypass safety protocols in the U.S. and Europe. It is extremely concerning that companies such as GlaxoSmithKline would do this - and tragic that the recent illegal trials, in which parental notifications were falsified, led to the deaths of 14 babies. Some very serious questions need to be asked of the pharmaceutical companies. They won't be if the extremists have their way.

The extremist views are so strong I've been hesitant even to write this post, fearing I'll be labelled a whackjob myself. As I've said, my son has received his vaccinations and will continue to do so; all I'm saying is that the extremist pro-vaccination types should stop trying to stifle all debate on the issue, so that problems with vaccines are detected, problems in the testing and approval process are rectified, and we achieve a goal of the safest vaccines for all. I don't think that is so insane.

Why Retail Is Dying, Part Two

2012-01-02T15:17:00.000+11:00

We live in a dormitory suburb. Everyone heads off to the city on the train in the morning and returns at night. There are a lot of pretty little local shops and cafes, but not many people around during the weekdays to patronise them. Being the summer holidays right now though, there are lots of people around during the day. You'd think the local small retailers - independent shops mostly selling $30 candles, artistic greeting cards, and wrought iron chairs - would be revelling in the increased trade.

But they are all closed, off on their long summer vacation. Most of the local retailers are shut for the next week, some until well into January. Of course small business owners need to go on holiday just as much as the rest of us but - considering we're always hearing that retail is dying, especially independent suburban businesses as people abandon their local shops for the lure of the mega mall - shouldn't they at least try to be around when their customers are?

It stretches the bounds of credibility. Following months on the lounge with BabyG and extreme indulgence over Christmas, I need to take drastic action. I'd say I need to lose my baby weight, but then people would ask how many babies I've actually had. Anyway, I've decided to kick things off this week by doing a detox. DH helped me research, even if he remained a bit cynical about the whole thing. "Chia seeds? Nut butters? The people who wrote this diet must run a health food store", he said as he reviewed a menu plan. "I know, aren't they awful", I replied, "trying to make a living helping people feel better". (DH is actually a vegetarian himself, but before you have visions of quinoa and kelp, he is actually a proudly unhealthy eater. He just doesn't eat meat. An Oporto vegie burger, chips and Lift is his kind of thing. A detox diet is not). Anyway I put together a lengthy list of detox foods and, grateful for the fact we live near one of Sydney's best organic food marts, called to check what time they opened today.

They're closed, of course, for another week and a half. Good grief. Not only is everyone on holidays, but also still making a pretence of sticking to their new year's resolutions to shape up and eat right, and the local organic and health food store is closed. I ended up getting what I needed from the supermarket, which had a surprisingly good range. Small retailers - I want to support you, but help me out here. If you want business - if you are dying, as you claim - try being open when your customers are around and want to do business with you, okay?

2011 - My Year in Review, In Photos

2011-12-31T11:55:00.000+11:00

Being a news junkie, I've always loved those "Year in Review" shows the networks wheel out about now. This year's batch should be especially entertaining. It was a hell of a year for the world. And for me personally - what with all the moving and new jobs and babies and politics. Rather than bore you all with 1500 words about it all, here is my photographic year in review.

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

Gratuitous cute kid pic - bye everyone and see you in 2012.

The Silly News Season

2011-12-22T09:45:00.003+11:00

According to the fluorescent yellow banner on Channel 9 news, there's an "Asylum Seeker Crisis". Paying close attention so I know exactly how much to panic, I realise we've hit that time of year - the silly news season, where news room editors scramble to find any dross they can to fill the 24 hour news cycle over the Christmas period.

Last week's sinking of an asylum seeker boat off the coast of Indonesia was a horrible tragedy, with a death toll that may never be known for sure but almost certainly in the hundreds. The news chiefs, however, must have been squealing with glee. What a chance to fill dead airtime, not with the stories of the men, women and children - people with families and hopes and dreams - who have perished, but by manufacturing a political "crisis" about the ever-menacing hoardes of illegals destined for our shores. What should have been the story of a humanitarian disaster deserving of the most somber and respectful reflection was transformed into yet another attempt to bait political parties against each other, bait "Aussie battlers" against the "do gooders" in a relentless attempt to drive up ratings and web hits. Ugh.

There's still rather a lot of news space to fill even when we're done creating a crisis out of a pitiful few asylum seekers, but creating crises is what the commercial news media do best. Channel 7 news breathlessly reported that nearly a quarter of first time mothers are now over the age of 35. This shock horror over the advancing age of mothers is nothing new, but no one let that get in the way of creating a good crisis. Various "experts" were wheeled the news shows to lament the whole ghastly thing. "This shows the message [about declining fertility levels with age] is not getting through" bemoaned an obstetric talking head on the morning news. Heavens to murgatroid. You'd have to be on an extensive media blackout to have missed the news that women's fertility declines with age, and you shouldn't put your career in front of having children - as if it is always a choice to delay having children, and as if it is solely women's responsibility. And surely the fact that more women are having babies older shows that there isn't a problem? If women are choosing to have their babies later, it's obviously working for them and it's fine. "Crisis - women doing what they want to do" hardly makes for a good story though.

Sadly, in the midst of all this, real news stories can get lost. There's so much outrage over people cheating Centrelink. News Ltd tabloids publish front page banner headlines decrying the disgraceful welfare cheats; people gleefully report their neighbour who claims sole parenting payment with a live in boyfriend or Newstart allowance despite doing cash-in-hand work. We are incensed by the individual who defrauds Centrelink of a few hundred dollars. But when an organisation does it - such as employment agencies falsely claiming Job Network payments they were not entitled to, of tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars, it barely raises a ripple. Some of these are purportedly "charitable" organisations. They're "ripping off the system" to a far greater extent than the poor guy who fudges his job seeker diary. But where is the outrage? The story sinks with barely a trace. Back to Nauru and sneering at Kim Jong Il. And there's the disgrace.

Reflections on Almost Four Months of Parenthood

2011-12-19T22:20:00.000+11:00

When I was pregnant, I was so obsessed with reading about all the physical manifestations of the condition that I rather failed to pay enough attention to how things might be once BabyG was actually here. I laboured (pun intended, the only labour I experienced) under several misapprehensions, thinking I would finally figure out this problems of motherhood stuff that has plagued women for century. Amongst other embarrassing erroneous beliefs, I wondered...

Why new parents moaned so much about lack of sleep when newborn babies slept twenty hours a day? I'd just sleep when the baby slept, every time. Problem solved!

How on earth could newborn babies produce all the laundry everyone complained of? Their clothes are tiny. I figured most parents were just way too fussy about washing their kid's clothes every time they wore them. I wouldn't make that mistake.

And why would a work-at-home parent need to put their kid in daycare? I'd get a bunch of writing and research done during BabyG's naps. Whoops, that's when I was going to sleep. Well, I'd work whilst BabyG rocked gently in a bouncer by my feet.

I just want to laugh at my pregnant self and say "let me know how you that goes." It went. And it didn't go well.

Firstly not all babies sleep twenty hours a day. That is a filthy lie. Some only manage twelve to fourteen, and when they do sleep it is all broken up. You try just drifting off to sleep with jangled nerves from four hours of comforting a fractious newborn - and with the knowledge that that baby could wake up at any time, probably in twenty minutes if their previous naps are anything to go by. Anyway that nap may be the only chance you actually get to have a shower and change out of the milk-soaked and sweaty nightdress you've been wearing for the previous eighteen hours.

Which brings us to the laundry. I think BabyG has worn the same thing twice without it being washed once in nearly four months. Babies have no control whatsoever over any of their bodily functions, and are usually emitting bodily fluids from at least two, and sometimes up to five, orifices at once. Nappies leak, noses run, and the vomit. Oh god, the vomit. Everything in our house more pliable than cork - including soft furnishings, pillows, and all clothes - has ended up reeking of used milk. The only things which have a hope of staying clean are wondersuits I picked up at Vinnies, which BabyG shows a mysterious restraint about vomiting in. His Bebé pants, on the other hand, will be sicked up on before I've taken them all the way out of the drawer.

And of course, I can't get anything done. It was actually a little easier when BabyG was a newborn. Now he's getting a little older, he gets bored if he's left in his bouncer without entertainment for any length of time. I could stick him in front of the TV, but I'm still at the stage of kidding myself I'm not the kind of mother who does such a thing, so the only option is to provide a constant repertoire of songs and games.The lack of sleep thing also makes it pretty difficult to concentrate. Volunteering and research is just going to have to wait a little while.

I've made parenthood sound like a horrorshow of epic proportions in this post, I realise. It really isn't. But no one wants to read my gushing over the wonder of BabyG, and if I can laugh at my naivety, I hope someone else can, too.

Outpost - Cockatoo Island

2011-12-17T19:39:00.003+11:00

In recent years, I've become a big fan of street art, so I was thrilled to hear about Outpost, a massive street art exhibit held at one of my favourite places, Cockatoo Island. Unfortunately I only heard about the thing three days before it closed - multiple visits would have been rewarding, especially without a young baby in tow - but I was fortunate enough to get along on a gorgeous Sydney spring afternoon, ferry strikes notwithstanding, and enjoyed it immensely; everywhere you turned was something new and exciting to see. Although not doing much justice to the show, here's a few pictures from Outpost I hope you enjoy as much as I enjoyed taking them.

A Letter from the Aspies to the World

2011-12-14T20:40:00.001+11:00

Please understand that Asperger's Syndrome does not simply mean "anti-social". It's a lot more complicated than that, a form of high-functioning autism usually involving difficulties in social interaction and repetitive behaviour. Here are some things we'd like you to take into consideration when interacting with us - yes, we would like consideration, even if you sometimes feel you don't get it from us.

Please don't draw attention to my "stimming", or self stimulation. I might be fiddling with my tie, or the hem of my skirt; twirling a piece of paper in my fingers; or flicking my fingers near my eyes. I might not even be aware I'm doing it and if you ask me what I'm doing or why, I'll be embarrassed.

Please don't make jokes where you know it's a joke and I don't - otherwise known as pulling my leg and/or having me on. I often can't tell it's a joke. It doesn't mean I'm less intelligent than you, just that I can't judge your facial and verbal cues. But it is incredibly frustrating and upsetting for me.

About that "anti-social" thing. It's true that I usually prefer my own company. Often though I would like to talk to you, I'm just maybe not sure what about or how. You might not understand my interest in plane engine numbers, but I really don't get why you would care what I'm having for lunch, either. I like to talk, just not the small variety.

At the other end of the scale, please don't think I don't care about the really important stuff you've got going on in your life (death in the family/divorce/lost job) because I haven't said anything. Often I really want to let you know I do care, but fear coming across the wrong way, so I remain silent. I know sometimes I have the capacity to make people feel worse, and I really don't want to do that to you.

Please don't think I'm avoiding eye contact because I'm rude, or not paying attention. It's just really hard for me. Anyway in a lot of cultures avoiding eye contact is a sign of respect, so think of it that way!

Please don't tell me to "get a life" if you find out I'm really into classifying rocks, or trainspotting, or whatever. This is my life. You don't get why I read Railway Digest, I don't get why you read New Weekly. (Kim Kardashian is a noted expert in extinct Indo-European languages, right?). Who's to say which set of interests are more valid? Except we all know, it's mine.

It's Not What You're Thinking

2011-12-11T14:30:00.000+11:00

Disappointing as it was this week to hear of Father Chris Riley's support for Clubs Australia's fight against poker machine reform (I'm sure Father Riley, a man of unimpeachable moral character, was in no way swayed by any large donations made to his cause from such an organisation), it was truly disgusting, though not at all surprising, to hear of the plans of Sydney's newly-renamed Star Casino to increase revenue. According to the SMH the casino plans to target low income migrants seeking to acquire the good life through gambling, offering shuttle buses and promotions to lure in gamblers from low income areas with high migrant populations (and just how likely are recent immigrants to be able to access counselling services vaunted by clubs as the solution to problem gambling, hmm?). Clubs in the geographic areas targeted for busing are particularly peeved. Bankstown Sports Club, mentioned in the article, claims that unlike the greed of The Star, they plough their profits back into the community (true to a point - 24% of their profits went to "Sports, Welfare and Youth Club expenses" in "furtherance of the club's objectives" in the 2009/2010 financial year according to their financial report.

If what you're thinking from all this is that gambling institutions are rather unscrupulous and loose with the truth then heavens, no. Just ask them, they'll tell you. According to The Star themselves, they're not actually planning to fleece newly arrived immigrants with poor English skills and little social supports out of the paltry amount of money they have. No, all that was just the plans of the evil consulting company which wrote the report that The Star commissioned! I'm sure we will see Star management in the media repudiating such repugnant ideas soon.

Also from the "you've got me all wrong" department is NSW Premier Barry O'Farrell who has announced a lifting on the uranium exploration ban in NSW. We shouldn't jump to any conclusions about Australia commencing uranium sales to India, or NSW wanting to get in on the action to prop up our pissweak economy. The decision has nothing to do with mining. We just need to see what's out there! I'm sure if large quantities of readily extractable uranium are found, the government will allow the traditional owners of the land where the uranium is found to decide what happens to it. We just wanted to know where the uranium was is all. In this spirit, I suggested to Mr O'Farrell that we go looking for bunyips, but he hasn't gotten back to me yet.

So it's in this spirit that I ask you to ignore the massive quantities of alcohol I've purchased recently. Don't jump to any conclusions. It's not that after not drinking for a year, and with Christmas coming up, I've got a little crazy at the intoxicating - in so many ways - prospect of drinking. It's for cooking. And sharing, in case we make any friends and any of them pop over for Christmas drinks. It's not what you're thinking.

The Truth About Babies

2011-12-07T10:50:00.002+11:00

The opportunity to raise and nurture a child, to be alongside them and gently guide them as they introduce themselves to the world, develop, and grow, is a magical and sacred experience that reminds us all what life is really about.

I'm still bored off my tits being home every day with BabyG, though. It's the truth that dare not speak its name: that a desperately wanted and so dearly loved child can be quite, quite dull.

I love BabyG so much that sometimes I can cry just looking at him. It doesn't mean I don't get pretty fed up by about the third hour of making Mr Bun dance to "Take A Chance On Me" for BabyG's amusement while he whinges (BabyG whinges, not Mr Bun, although I'm sure if Mr Bun could talk he'd express reservations as well).

Very poor conversationalist

In the past few years I have done so much. I've tried my hand at roller derby and qualified as a youth worker and worked at more and less pleasant jobs and volunteered on election campaigns and attended policy and agency meetings and travelled and gotten married. But now life has shrunk, without a car and post c-section, to within the four walls of the flat most of the time. There's really very little you can do with them - I've spent more time at Westfield since BabyG was born than I had in all my previous life, because they are climate controlled and flat and have parents' rooms. A woman from my Facebook friends list, whose daughter was born the day after BabyG, remarked when the babies were two weeks old that she was bored, and someone whom I'm guessing hasn't spent much time around newborns replied "but you have a baby to play with!". How I laughed.

I knew this going into it, of course. I knew having a baby wasn't always going to be a barrel of laughs. And I yearned to be a mother nonetheless. But no amount of longing for a child can ease the frustration of having spend two hours rocking and patting and humming to sleep that child then having them, three minutes later, fart themselves awake.

I'm sure there are parents who revel in every minute of this, who adore babyhood, right down to the cactus hours that are a feature of life with a newborn (six hours of nonstop crying!), just as there are those who would give just about anything for the chance to be bored by a baby at all. But can we be honest enough to admit there are those of us who are bored silly by our kids, even as we love them, and that sometimes it can be a minor victory not to swig the cooking wine at 8am?

I Am Not Mia Freedman

2011-12-04T17:10:00.001+11:00

Dang. There I was thinking my blog title was so original and esoteric - but I keep being asked if this whole thing is a homage to Mia Freedman. Well, no.
Ms Freedman's blog Mama Mia is a pun on her name (and the ABBA song), where she reflects on modern motherhood and society to her many fans - and detractors. She is the former editor of Australian Cosmo and it rather shows in her writing style. I don't dislike the blog, but I'm not a fan either, and have only visited once or twice. The thing never crossed my consciousness when naming this here blog you're reading now.

Mamaenima has a slightly more complicated naming history. When I decided I wanted a new blog, rather than updating my old one to become the Xander and Nico and DH and Ruby and Gloom and Baby-to-be Pod (which would now be the Xander and Nico and DH and Ruby and Gloom Pod featuring Baby G), I needed a snazzy title to distinguish it from the thousands of other essentially similar mediocre blogs out there. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but I meshed the title of Tool's 1996 album Ænima (itself a combination of words), with mama. So we had life force, enemas and motherhood in one title. I was quite taken with myself.

I didn't initially intend to be a "Mummy blogger" (what the hell is that, anyway?). Certainly I hoped through keeping up my involvement in politics and other interests, to have something else to talk about. But then I'd see my twitter stream full of complaints about being woken at 8am on a Sunday, feel tempted to reply "just wait till you have kids!" and catch myself. I will not be that person - the smug know it all parent. Who's to say those twitter tweeps will have kids or want them? Who's to say having kids is such a great or laudable thing anyway? I went into this with open eyes and whilst I may complain to other parents, I'm refuse to bang on to my childless acquaintances about what an awesome sacrifice I'm making for the good of humanity, hoping to remember how it felt to be on the other side. Sure I hope Baby G grows up to be a thoughtful, fully realised young man with a dedication to social justice, but he could end up being a bit of a pompous ass. We don't know, so it's a bit early for me to claim I'm doing the world any favours by raising him (but if it turns out to be justified, I'll waste absolutely no time in doing so!). I'll try to stick to the politics, but a few motherhood things might slip in there too, which is okay.

An Old Man Wins Me Over On Same Sex Marriage

2011-12-03T14:40:00.001+11:00

A sort-of historic day! (Partial) victory! A great moment for trying to have a bet each way...well it is the Labor party we're talking about here, who have today agreed at their national conference to change their official party policy to support of same sex marriage, and to allow a conscience vote in Parliament on the issue. The ALP doesn't normally allow independent voting - MPs must stick to the party line even, as John Faulkner pointed out, on votes to go to war - so for them to not require a vote on party lines here is very disappointing. In order for the issue to pass, it will require the Liberal party to allow a conscience vote, and then for enough Coalition MPs to vote in favour of the amendment to the Marriage Act. It could go either way. It's sobering to remember that due to John Howard's mean-spirited amendments to the Marriage Act, same sex marriage is not just not legal in Australia, it is expressly outlawed. Icky, isn't it? Some are calling for a referendum on same sex marriage. I don't agree. I just don't see why it should be up to anyone else to decide whom an adult acting of free will can marry. We cannot possibly claim we have equality of the sexes in Australia as long as your sex determines your choice of marriage partner. This is a fundamental human rights issue. Just get on with it.
Well, so I thought. But then I saw this letter, from Norm of Forestville, in today's Sydney Morning Herald:

Marriage has been convened over the centuries of civilisation to legally formalise the union between male and female, and provide protection of the rights of any off-spring that result from the union. I don't have a problem with gay people that want some legal recognition of their relationship. I would have thought a civil union contract would suffice, and I cannot see why they are insisting on the right to marry. Maybe I'm just getting old.

And I got to thinking. Norm is right. Marriage is designed to set out the roles and relationships between the sexes. It is designed to elevate the children of the marriage relationship. It is traditional. It's time we abolished it immediately.

If marriage hasn't evolved past the traditional roles of men and women, if we haven't evolved past the notion of legitimate and illegitimate children, then it hasn't evolved fast enough to keep up with society; it's a useless pretence we must be rid of. Traditional marriage - a man and a woman who is his legal property? The abhorrent notion that children are somehow more worthy dependent on the marital status of their parents? We don't need that. I'm going to ask DH for a divorce. Yes I still love him and hope and believe we will be together for the rest of our lives. But we should have followed the lead of some friends who are refusing to get married as long as same sex marriage remains illegal. Which - now that we are abolishing the outdated institution of marriage - means neither they, nor anyone else, can ever get married at all.

You've completely won me over, Norm. Cheers.

The World's Best Hotel

2011-12-01T18:30:00.002+11:00

Caring for a small baby is a wondrous, magical experience that gives you lots and lots of time to watch an awful lot of crappy TV. Lately I've been passing the hours on the couch with BabyG by watching travel shows. Gosh those shows manage to make every place they go look glossy and appealing. Apart from anywhere with water, I'm particularly taken with the hotels - the ultra luxurious, beautifully equipped World's Best Hotels that send the imagination into a spin.

But somehow all of these are lacking something. I'm thinking of what, to me, would be the world's best hotel. Facilities would be clean and functional, but that's it. It's not why you're there. In the hotel of my (literal) dreams, all the rooms are thoroughly soundproofed. There are world class blackout screens. Fresh white sheets and a pillow menu (I can't be the only one who finds pillows in hotels too damn thick). Check out time is 10am - that's the earliest you're allowed to check out, and no one is allowed to roam the corridors before then. There are no room service trolleys or housekeepers outside your door, no one shoving faxes under your door at 3am, no false alarms requiring you to evacuate three hours before you need to get up for your flight (I seem to have suffered a disproportionate number of those in hotels around the world during my travelling life).

You're here for one thing, and one thing only. Sleep. This hotel does all it can to ensure whomever requires it can have an atmosphere conducive to the best night's sleep possible. I've been lucky enough to stay in some amazing hotels - including a couple on the list - but even in the most ritzy of hotels, there's still light from the skyline, tour groups in the hall checking out at 5:30am, or a laughing couple throwing their shoes at the door*. My dream hotel can't offer any guarantees, but with dark, silent rooms, quiet corridors, blocking mobile and data reception to the rooms for those who just can't help themselves, and an absence of disturbances, they'll do all they can to ensure a good night's sleep for those who just can't get it any other way. Heck - it would even have a doctor on staff to prescribe a little something of the benzodiazepine variety for those who felt they needed it (a reputable doctor, so the place doesn't go all Conrad Murray and have to shut down).

Well, that's my idea of the perfect hotel, anyway. I think I might be just a little sleep obsessed lately...

* This may or may not have been DH and I on our wedding night. We're sorry.

How Can You Say You Love Australia If You Don't Know How It Works?

2011-11-19T11:30:00.001+11:00

Yesterday saw the horrific fire at the Quakers Hill nursing home which has so far claimed the lives of five people. It was extremely hard to watch the news footage of the terrified, confused elderly residents who had lost their home, possessions and friends, struggling to comprehend what had happened to them. There certainly was a lot of graphic vision - evidently the TV news crews thought a compassionate telling of the story required them to shove cameras in the faces of the fire victims as they were loaded into ambulances, and I sure hope people are at least demanded to explain themselves for stripping these vulnerable people of their dignity at a time when they have precious little else left.

At any rate, overnight a suspect has been charged with arson. It is difficult to comprehend that such horror could have been the result of a deliberate act, but people are reminding each other that we must not rush to judge, that the slow wheels of the legal system need to turn, that justice must take its course.

I'm kidding, of course. The internet hordes are baying for blood. There are the usual calls to bring back capital punishment, with several commentators offering to take care of the offender themselves involving hot things and sharp things. The possibility that the defendant will plead mental illness is raised, with comments such as "He will claim he was mentally ill and get away with it. (my apologies to those out there living with mental illness) but too many people claim that they are sick and get away with it". We even ventured into the realms of fantasy, with one commentator opining that "you dont deserve a trial if you think its ok to murder innocent elderly people." As with comments regarding politics ("I didn't vote for Julia Gillard/a carbon tax! Bring on an election now!"), I'm no longer surprised but merely saddened that there are so many adults walking the streets of our society, so blissfully ignorant of how that society actually works.

Of course in Australia, we have a representative democracy. We elect politicians to make decisions for us, and no one voted for or against the carbon tax. Gillard did say she wouldn't bring in a carbon tax in a government she led. Her error was not one of delusion but omission - she left out the word "majority" before government. Left without a majority, she needed to introduce a carbon tax proposal in order to form a minority government. Those red-faced harpies calling 2GB to complain about the unfairness of it all can't quite grasp this nuance; that we don't have elections "for" anything, and that referenda are only held to change the Constitution, not on individual laws. They invoke the spectre of 1998 as the "GST election" - John Howard took the GST to the people and won, making it a legitimate decision - when it wasn't and he didn't. In their misunderstanding, they call for fresh elections/referenda on everything from same sex marriage (like it's anyone else's business who gay people marry) to whether we should process asylum seekers offshore or really, really far offshore. The principle of representative democracy and the process by which bills become law are unknown to these people.

It's the same with the legal system. Precepts such as the right to a fair trial and innocent until proven guilty are misunderstood and thrown aside in the rush to judgement. The notion that a trial is not deserved shows a belief that is a privilege to be earned for lack of guilt, not the right of all people to assess their guilt. The concept of mental illness is beyond them - some sort of made-up thing used by criminals to get away with their crimes. Does it matter that people have these erroneous beliefs? Of course! These are adults who vote in elections and serve on juries; they nominally control a system they barely comprehend. They would, I bet, all call themselves "proud Aussies", be proud of Australia's "freedom", not understanding that freedom confers the right to a fair trial and that the public deciding every issue which crosses the parliamentary floor is not democracy, but mob rule.

When it works well, democracy is the best system we have, but for it to work, we need an educated citizenry. Parliamentary democracy and a free judicial system can't function if large chunks of the population have no idea how they work. So what is the answer, high school civics classes? Well, they'd be a start. But even loving the details of our system as I do, I can see that civics classes have the potential to be the week's most boring subject in an already crowded curriculum; besides, such classes would be no help to everyone who's already helping to run the country, through their votes and jury service, even if they don't know how.

Let's make civics a national TV event. Let's gather up Eddie Maguire, Bert Newton, the cast of Packed To The Rafters, and Jessica Mauboy to sing the big opening number, to host Take Back Australia!, a TV spectacular with great production values, shiny graphics, and a gentle attempt to explain how the legislative, executive and judicial framework of Australia actually functions. There could be an iPhone app, quizzes with cash prizes and cutaways to members of the Australian cricket team and whoever won whatever televised talent quest the twisted mind of Simon Fuller has disgorged upon us this year. If you're groaning at the thought of watching such a spectacle, that's okay; you're excused from watching. If all this sounds heinous to you, chances are you know this stuff already.

White Whining

2011-11-16T11:22:00.000+11:00

The latest mock outrage making its way 'round the internet is the term "white whine". If one is in a privileged position - and on a global scale, having internet access and white skin is a position of privilege - than any complaints about the trivial matters of life are labelled as a white whine.

Sure, most of these complaints are trivial. But does that mean we're not allowed to have them? This morning I got up, after a fitful few hours sleep with a ten week old baby, to discover our fridge seals have died, so the fridge door was essentially open all night and all the food inside went bad and had to be thrown away. Whilst I was cleaning it up and throwing out food we could financially have done without having to replace with a new baby, Christmas coming up, and a bunch of unforeseen expenses, BabyG added abundantly to the mess as only a baby can (I'm trying to be delicate), requiring a bath, change of clothes, and to scrub his bouncinette. And the ground coffee I'd bought to help cope with the lack of sleep turned out to be decaf.

Petty? Trivial? Hell yes. I know I am lucky to have a fridge at all, and a roof over my head, and BabyG a healthy baby; most people on Earth can't rely on any of these things. And yes I have had genuinely bad things happen in my life. But none of that makes cleaning up baby poop or rotten cheeses with a caffeine deprivation headache and chronic lack of sleep more fun. I like to think I'm not a selfish person. I've chosen a career in helping others. But dammit, it's important to let this stuff out; I'm cranky and exhausted. Accuse me of white whining and I won't deny it, but let me have it, please. As long as one remembers how good one really has it, the white whine is a harmless way to let off steam every now and then. Otherwise I, and others like me, will hoard all our anger in a tight little ball until it is released at an inappropriate moment, possibly whilst drinking. And we can't have that, can we?

Fighting Misogyny - What's Wrong With Men Call Me Things

2011-11-11T10:54:00.002+11:00

When I first heard of the Men Call Me Things campaign on Twitter, I was deeply concerned. Not because I disagree with the aim of the campaign - feminist writers using the #mencallmethings exposing the vile misogynistic comments, including threats of rape and murder, they receive from pieces of distended monkey rectum who hide behind the anonymity of the Internet whilst calling themselves "men". I was horrified at the sheer extent and nastiness (if that is not too mild a term) of the abuse that some of the victims, including Mel Tankard Reist, Emily Maguire, and Nina Funnel, have been subjected to. I am not denying for one second that there is an undertone of misogyny to much of our culture or that there is great structural inequality inherent in our society. It manifests in the most horrific way on the Internet in the cowards who hurl women-hating abuse at the women who dare to speak out about it.

Given all that, I just can't help but wish that those involved in this worthwhile campaign had called it something other than Men Call Me Things. There's the problem - men. Not some men, awful men, men who disgrace the rest of them, but generic men who are carrying out these acts. I think in the long term, it does the cause of feminism more harm than good to paint "men" as the enemy. Please don't misunderstand me - I am not suggesting men are the victims here, nor am I saying that we have to be nice to men in the hope they will decide to let us share the power.

Tarring all men with the same brush, however, only serves to perpetuate the belief in some sections that hating women is what men do. Confusing misogyny with men in general helps to normalise these attitudes.If hating women was stigmatised as the view of a disturbed subsection of the male community, more young men would be driven to reject it. If boys grow up hearing the message "men are awful" there's a very real risk some of them will internalise it; say to themselves "yes we are and yes I am". This is the last thing any of us should want. The message I want my son to grow up hearing is not that he is a male (working on the assumption for the sake of this post that he will self-identify as male) and males do awful things; but that he is a male and he must join in upholding attitudes and behaviours which respect women and disdain those few males who do not have that respect.

Twitter is great, but it has it's limits (140 characters, in fact); so I hope I've been able to make myself a little clearer here.

Why Retail Is Dying

2011-11-02T10:55:00.004+11:00

Yesterday, I was attempting to purchase a breastfeeding bra when the sales assistant approached me and said "You look lost".

"No, I'm not", I replied. "I'm simply trying to buy an attractive, yet supportive and comfortable feeding bra, something I would imagine there would be some demand for, and as stunning as it may be to you, the perplexed, dismayed look on my face is not one of astonishment at the breadth and complexity of your product range, therefore requiring the expertise and mastery of one such as yourself to gently guide me through it. It is sheer fucking frustration at your mediocre little range of maternity bras in this, purportedly Australia's largest lingerie retailer; annoyance that all you can offer are a few dull, unsupportive bras in a choice of beige or black only, and in a completely inadequate range of sizes - I'd make an educated guess that at least 40% women require a bra larger that what you have on offer. I guess stocking a decent range of maternity bras would reduce the amount of floor space available to sell your french maid and naughty nurse costumes. Sure, maternity bras aren't as sexy as the outfits you flog to fake-tanned twenty year olds to titillate their gormless boyfriends with the perpetuation of female stereotypes, but given that I would hope many women would spend at least as much time breastfeeding as following the advice of Cosmo articles on how to excite your man, then providing a decent maternity lingerie range would make sense form a business point of view, even if it did detract somewhat from your desired "naughty", hip young image. And given all this, I find it frankly condescending and a little rude that you act like the problem is on my end, not yours."

Well, that's what I should have said. Instead I said "Sorry, you don't have what I'm after", and walked out. Damn.

Occupy Sydney: Why The Doubters Are Wrong

2011-10-27T18:35:00.002+11:00

There's nothing worse than finding yourself on the same side of an issue as one of the right wing bile spewers you normally despise - certainly during the Bill Henson controversy was mortified to find myself agreeing with Miranda Devine. I guess safety in numbers would help, at least for many lefty types I know who have come out against the Occupy Sydney/Melbourne/Australia protests. It must be hard being on the same side as John Howard's stunt double Gerald Henderson, who applies his right wing touch to the protests. We'd expect that from the conservative chorus. But why are so many normally open minded progressive types in agreement?

It's a partial agreement, to be fair. "I support the Occupy Wall Street protests" the line from the sneering hipsters runs, "But not Occupy Australian City. What have they got to complain about?" However, they've completely missed the point of the thing. One popular post doing the rounds (on Tumblr, no less) sums up why they just don't get it.

Yes, Australia has come through the GFC largely unscathed. But not completely. Around 100,000 Australians lost their jobs as a direct result of the economic downturn (I was one of them) - not huge numbers, but if you were one of them, it kinda rankles when people act like you don't exist. Unemployment overall is low, so most of those people, apparently, found other jobs (although Australia suffers from gross under reporting in unemployment statistics) but the effects of the GFC will be felt for years to come as we pay off the budget deficit acquired to stave off the worst of the economic woes. The system which allowed the GFC to happen is still very much in place.

And we are vulnerable to it in Australia; we're part of the global economy. The decisions made in corporate boardrooms around the world very much affect us here. The protests are global, too. One of the dumbest criticisms of the protests has been "the Australian economy isn't like the U.S. economy". Well for a start the global Occupy movement started in Madrid - Occupy Wall Street came later - and second it's about showing solidarity, and Australia is very much at the whims of the global system of capitalism. We still have a system where CEOs can receive obscene bonuses whilst laying off staff and cutting costs to the detriment of service and safety; we still have a system that is reliant on personal over corporate taxation for the backbone of federal revenue. Services which were once provided by the government are now outsourced. We are going down the path of two-tier health and education systems. Yes Australia has it better than many other countries, but for how much longer if we keep sitting back and letting it get worse?

Perhaps the most amusing, or offensive, comment from the anti-Occupy brigade is "wouldn't it be great if those participating in the Occupy protests did volunteer work instead." Aside from the irony of smug hipsters sitting in coffee shops tapping on their iPads telling those who actually get off their butts and do something that they should be doing something else instead, it's just plain wrong. Volunteer work is something we should all be doing. But it's grassroots stuff. There's that hackneyed old saying "give a man a fish, he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, he'll eat for a lifetime." It's true here. Volunteering does nothing to address the long term problems of social inequality. It's the ordinary people cleaning up the messes which have arisen through the actions of the powerful - closing mental hospitals, underfunding disability services. We need the short term help of volunteers. We also need to fix the problems which require them. So do both. But don't attack those who choose to protest by declaring what else they should be doing, whilst you do nothing at all.

Rather than declaring what's wrong with the protests, or quibbling every detail of their sometimes blurred agenda, we should be supporting them in recognition that the current system needs to change. Maybe the alternatives aren't perfect, but is capitalism?

The Greens - I'm With The Brand

2011-10-20T16:43:00.000+11:00

You'd think someone of my political persuasion, being a Greens member and all, would be a nature lover. Nope. I can't stand nature. I'm a lady out of the concrete canyons. I hate dirt, trees, fresh air, and being away from wifi. And nature hates me back - look at all the dangerous things that happen to people woh go out in nature. There's an awful lot of weather out there, and you can get lost, and aren't "natural" disasters the worst sort? That said, I'm a pretty peaceful sort of person, so I wish no particular ill upon nature; I just think the best place for humans is in medium-density housing in the city, leaving nature well alone.

So I'm not a tree hugger, whatever the hell that is supposed to mean. I understand the need for a pristine natural environment, but it's not one of my main passions. And whilst I'm well aware that environmental protection is the Greens' raison d'etre, I was nonetheless surprised to read that, according to the SMH, the Greens brand is outdated and they need to remarked themselves to appeal to a new demographic on social justice issues. Really? It's not like the Greens are doing too badly. Leaving aside the untrue line that the Greens are actually running the country (that'd be nice!), they're doing pretty well in the polling at the moment, and getting some good work done in parliament, with nine senators and Australia's best-looking parliamentarian, Adam Bandt (although he would have faced some stiff competition from the lovely and vivacious Helen Coonan).

So is the Greens' image really that of sandal-wearing hippies? I began voting for the Greens, and later joined the party, because of their policies on social justice issues. Labor and Liberal were largely indistinguishable on many of the issues - asylum seekers, same sex marriage, welfare, education - and believing that the measure of a society is how we treat the worst-off of us, I could no longer in good conscience keep supporting the Labor party. I'm not alone; it has been lamented that Labor is losing a generation of talent to the Greens, so it seems that even if the Greens are perceived as crusty dreadlocked types chained to trees, there is more than that attracting the 1.4 million Australians who gave the Greens there first preference at the 2010 federal election.

Does it really matter that "Greens" has become a pejorative term on talkback radio, a synonym for socialism, government control, do gooders and bleeding hearts? I'm proud to be "insulted" by talkback radio callers and News Ltd columnists; the bile spewing from the right may actually be doing some good. Would rebranding the Greens do any good anyway? The Country Party became the National Party, but without a significant change of party they've not exactly set alight inner urban electorates.
Besides, Greens parties an international movement, thanks in part to Bob Brown. The Australian Greens would be nuts to distance themselves from it. No, the Greens should stay proud to stay exactly the way they are.

The Day of Unrest - Occupy Sydney

2011-10-16T13:55:00.003+11:00

Apparently I'm part of the 99%. It's not often in my life I'm in the majority - I'm a socialist, after all, which can be a kind of lonely position. Seems though that all over the world, people are waking up to the gross economic injustice which has arisen as a result of free market capitalism, and they want to do something about it. The protest movement which began with The Indignants Movement in Madrid, and spawned Occupy Wall Street, is spreading across the globe, and yesterday it was Sydney's turn, as part of the global day of action. There have been plenty of knockers, and it's true that crowds were modest, but you have to start somewhere. I wonder how many of those sneering at the protest now would turn up if it continues and grows? In any case, I wanted to add my support, and have BabyG see something important even if he doesn't know it yet, so we went along for the afternoon.

Was a little slow to kick off.

It was a lovely day for it, anyway.

Looking west on Martin Place; the Channel 7 studios are in the right background.

The banners mounted over Martin Place at the moment seem very appropriate.

There were so few people holding sings that those who had them were in great demand for photos.

The ostensible organisers. I was rather alarmed at the age of some of them - these kids haven't even started to be screwed over by capitalism yet.

The protest in Australia were a fraction of the size of other nations. The GFC hasn't really touched us here - the unemployment rate in Australia is a quarter that of Spain, for instance, and we've had no austerity measures, so we just haven't developed the intense anger of other nations who've watched their economies turn to crud. Also, let's face it, Australia has a pretty poor tradition of political protest. We're to damn laid back sometimes. What exactly do the protesters hope to achieve? In some ways that isn't important. What is important is they have something to say, and they get to say it, and they have hope someone will listen. It's that hope I want to pass on to my son, to stand up and be counted.

The Man for the Job

2011-10-08T18:01:00.000+11:00

Bidding farewell to DH, who was off for a job interview, he asked if I had any tips. "Mention you have a wife and baby", I told him, "It makes you look good".

It sure does - if you're a man. Sexism is still alive and well in Australia, at least in the field of recruitment. A married man with young children is seen as responsible, caring, unlikely to quit in a hurry or goof off as he keeps a roof over his family's head. A married woman with small kids? Forget it, obviously the job won't be her main focus. She'll need to leave early, won't do overtime, take lots of time off cause her kids are sick, and will probably resign soon to have another baby anyway.

Late last year, in a fit of despair over the state of the world, or at least thinking I was too damn sensitive for this youth work business, I made a brief and unsuccessful attempt to get back into advertising. Now, it could be that I'd been out of the industry for over a year, or that I don't interview particularly well. But I can't shake the feeling that at least part of the reason for my failure was due to being a married woman in my thirties. "Great skill set", I was told more than once in the sorry-but conversations post interview, "but we just don't think you'd fit into the team". Probably true; I put in a good effort at the office, but come quitting time I like to head home, not keep up with the work-hard play-hard twenty something AEs hitting the bars with the boss and clients. But dammit, I was good at advertising if not socialising, and it would have been nice to be given the chance to try. The stereotype is way off the mark in our family, anyway - our hope is that I will work full time whilst DH assumes most of the care of Baby G.

There's ageism as well as sexism going on, and it's pretty much impossible to legislate against. One anecdotal tale proves nothing of course, although recruiters I've spoken to agree these stereotypes of family roles are definitely a factor in hiring women over a certain age, that certain age being about 28 (there's no statistics on it though - really, who'd admit to it in a quantifiable fashion?). I've abandoned a corporate career and moved into the not-for-profit sector, where this is much less of a problem. I recently read in the SMH female readers' tales from the 1970s of being unable to withdraw the money they had earned from their own bank accounts, or access a tubal ligation, without their husbands' permission, and thought thank god we don't live in those days. But we really haven't come as far as one would hope.

Reflections on the First Month of Parenthood

2011-10-02T21:10:00.002+11:00

So BabyG is now one month old. It's been the longest and the quickest month of my life, quite startlingly unlike anything I could have imagined.

I thought I knew crazy hanging around engineering students, but I'd never had someone throw up on my breasts before. I thought I knew frustrating dealing with advertising clients who insisted on using seven different fonts in one ad, but I hadn't yet had to change nappies three times in ten minutes - or seven times in two hours. I coped well as a youth worker with several teenagers, but discovered it's different with a newborn - your shift doesn't end. And there are the days when you realise it's 1pm, I'm still in my pajamas, and I've just eaten a cornetto, because it is full of sugar and can be eaten with one hand. How did it come to this?

For all that though, it's really not as bad as I was expecting. At the end of the book Up The Duff, the character whose imaginary pregnancy diary we've been following reflects on early parenthood. She makes it seem a horror show of epic proportions - not knowing if it's day or night, no sleep whatsoever, being unable to shower or eat or do anything much at all except sob and wait for your kid to start school. It hasn't been like that for me. The first few weeks were bloody tough it's true, but that was more about my physical state after the c-section and broken rib, rather than the baby. When other mothers speak of how little sleep they're getting, I only smile and remain silent, knowing that if I confessed how much sleep BabyG gets, they'd beat me to death with bottles of frozen EBM. The house hasn't gotten particularly messy. There are no piles of laundry. I fear we're doing it wrong.

I've learned not to turn to books for guidance. Parenting books are, well, rather bossy. There's two opposing schools of thought - the first that you must have your baby adhering to a strict routine or the manipulative little mite will have you getting up at night to them in high school; the other that you must not let your baby cry unattended at any time or they will grow up to suffer major depression, always get picked last for sports teams and never find true love. The verbal sparring between the adherents of each philosophy will, I fear, form the storyline for a series of Underbelly in years to come.

We've decided to go with a see-what-happens-and-go-with-the-flow approach. The days have formed their own sort of routine. We do get out a bit, but it's easier just to stay home a lot of the time when you have a baby who still breastfeeds for hours on end (that said, my first public breastfeed was in the pub - go hard or go home I say). I've had my run ins with Foxtel, but they've been a lifesaver in recent weeks. I've read a lot of forums but haven't touched most of the parenting books. Maybe I should write one of my own, but I don't know how I ended up with a newborn who sleeps through at night. Pure bloody luck. I couldn't write a book any time soon. Sleep aside, I still have pretty shocking baby brain and it's taken ages to write this post. Parenting always changes though, I've learned that already, so maybe in a year or two, I'll be ready to scribe all this. Just one problem - DH is already saying he wants another one.

We Are All Troy Davis

2011-09-22T11:33:00.001+10:00

First morning in ages that BabyG has napped, allowing me to shower at a decent hour and get on with things, and I can't stop watching coverage of the now-delayed pending execution of Troy Davis. It brings back memories of the 2005 execution (scroll down) of Australian man Van Tuong Nguyen - the sickening helpless feeling of waste, pointlessness and the horror of the state committing murder. Whilst the death penalty is never justified, the difference in that case was that Van Nguyen was guilty of the crime he was executed for, although he did not deserve to die for it. Troy Davis is innocent, almost certainly, with no physical evidence linking him to the crime, and one of the two witnesses who testified against him who hasn't retracted their testimony looking like a very credible suspect for the crime Davis was convicted of.

You don't even have to be against the death penalty itself to oppose this execution. The death penalty itself is horrific enough, its mundane details and practicalities chilling - the condemned prisoner is not only kept on suicide watch, so as not to deprive the state its revenge, but actually given a check up by a doctor to ensure they are fit for execution ("no, you'll have to live, you're to sick to kill"). But even if you believe the death penalty is warranted, say, for someone who kills a child, it is quite another thing to execute someone when there is so much doubt in the case. Troy Davis should not be saved in and of himself because he recanted, found Jesus, does good work in jail; but because it seems sure that he simply did not commit the crime he may die for.

The family of Mark McPhail, the murdered off-duty police officer whom Davis is convicted of killing, would doubtless say they are the real victims here. The are convinced of Davis' guilt, and adamant the execution should proceed. I feel very sorry for them, but it's hard to understand their faith in Davis' conviction. When you have been so greatly wronged, so grieved, humans have a natural urge to seek what they see as justice, to right the wrong in the natural order of things. For McPhail's family to concede that Davis is not guilty would leave them with no focus for their pain; they must think the execution will give them some closure. They are sadly wrong. A man - let alone an innocent man - does not need to die to prove the extent of their suffering. If this execution goes ahead, and they later have doubts - if later there is another conviction, more evidence, proof - what then? Then they become the victims of one murder and to an extent, the accomplices to another.

As I write, it's 150 minutes past Davis' scheduled execution time. A delay has been issued whilst the U.S. Supreme court considers an appeal. It seems that Davis could still be executed at any time - the live coverage is continuing. We just don't know what's going on right now, reports are that Davis is on the gurney now, awaiting the word. I think I'm going to be sick. How can anyone i the world think this is okay?

EDIT: of course as we all now know Davis was executed later that day. I'll just add this:
"What then is capital punishment but the most premeditated of murders, to which no criminal's deed, however calculated it may be, can be compared. For there to be an equivalence, the death penalty would have to punish a criminal, who had warned his victim of the date at which he would inflict a horrible death on him, and who from that moment onward had confined him at his mercy for months. Such a monster is not encountered in private life." - Albert Camus "Reflections on the Guillotine" 1957.

When All Is Said and Done

2011-09-13T15:05:00.003+10:00

Proving that no nightmare scenario lasts forever (although god knows, it felt like the Howard era would do so), on 1 September we fnally had our beautiful son BabyG. Which considering he was due on the 20 August, clearly meant things took a little longer than planned. Plans went out the window anyhow, as my original wish for a waterbirth was scrapped and I ended up having every intervention imaginable to try to extract my little guy, finally resorting to a c-section when all else failed...and even then, he had to be plied out with forceps. Using the emergency exit proved to be for the best when to everyone's surprise, he weighed in at four-and-a-half kilos. I don't know how. I avoided all the foods you're supposed to avoid and swallowed bucketsful of prenatal vitamins but my fruit and vegetable intake was sometimes neglected in my insane desire for chocolate milk (which makes me feel a little ill now I think of it). I didn't have diabetes. DH and I are tallish but not huge. I didn't even look all that big and have no idea where he was hiding. Somehow, I just baked a really big baby...although he still seems tiny and fragile to us.

Posting has been a bit thin on the ground whilst DH and I get our baby legs. We keep feeling like we're playing Mum and Dad, and the real grown ups will be along shortly to take care of things (this is an especially appealing notion at 3am). As for Xander, he's coping as well as can be expected for a senior cat who has never met a child before ("that thing you brought home is crying again"). Everything they said about having a baby is true, yet no one warned me about any of this. The feeling of peace having him in my arms, or the panic of that dreadful night when I was unable to feed him and he had no wet nappies for twenty hours. I know that this baby business is of very little interest to anyone else though (certianly I can feel my 29yo, chainsmoking, avowed-childless self being bored rigid by it), so I'll keep it short until BabyG and I sort ourselves out and I'm able to get a grasp on world affairs again. Though let me guess...Tony Abbott is still whinging, right?

Overdue

2011-08-26T15:05:00.007+10:00

"Are you ready for the baby?", I'm forever being asked. Well of course I am. I've bought several presents for Xander so he has something to distract him from the new baby; we've planned and made careful changes so Xander's routine has the absolute minimum of interruption; asked visitors coming to see the baby to make a fuss of Xander, so he doesn't get too jealous. No baby was ever coming to a more well-prepared house. When I tell people this though they usually mutter "weirdo" under their breaths and shuffle away. I don't get it. Is there such a thing as being too prepared?

I guess there is. I'm now a week overdue, in a society which doesn't seem to allow for that occurrence. We like to control everything in our lives these days, and a baby that doesn't show up by it's due date is seen to be, you know, a little bit hippy, a little odd. As Eddy told Saffy, at term with her own child in Absolutely Fabulous, "No one goes to forty weeks. Pay extra, get the express delivery". Why suffer through the very late, very uncomfortable weeks of pregnancy? Get a (these days) straightforward elective caesarean at 39 weeks and have done with it.

I'd like to say that I'm overdue because of a determination not to rush my child, to let nature take it's course, to refuse to live my life according to a socially acceptable timetable. At least, that's what I would have said before I was pregnant. A couple of years back I fell in with a crowd of hardened home birthers, who convinced me that everything the medical establishment do to pregnant women is a giant scheme to make money from unnecessary interventions. No way was I going to fall for that, I thought smugly as I organised my planned waterbirth. I was going to 43 weeks if need be! My kid would set their own timetable for entry into the world and doctors could shove it!

That was before the anaemia; the symphis pubis dysfunction (aka pelvic instability) which made it impossible for me who would normally cover over 5km a day to walk more than a few hundred metres at a time; the carpal tunnel syndrome which has left me without much feel in or use of my hands. Then there's the usual, boring stuff - the sleeplessness, reflux, inability to sit comfortably, the fact I haven't had prawns or wine since last year. So I would kill for some intervention now, but of course it's too late to hire an obstetrician on three days' notice. I've got to tough this out.

It's hard killing time when I can't go anywhere and I can't hold a pencil and I can't string a coherent thought together. Baby brain may be an anti-feminist lie, but any scan of my brain at the moment would look like this:

For I can assure you, the world is such a source of irritation at the moment it is not to be borne. Let's see...I ordered a cot net from a website last week and was assured it would be delivered Wednesday. They call me on Thursday to inform me they no longer stock the product. Why did it take a week to tell me? Yet another trip out I'm going to have to make. I don't expect special consideration in public just for being knocked up, but I do think it would be nice if people could at least try to stop ramming into my stomach. My husband keeps asking what I want. If I knew that, I could get it myself. I can barely follow any of the columnists in the SMH. My attempt to read the whole Harry Potter series stalled at The Chamber of Secrets, when I kept wondering why Harry and Draco Malfoy couldn't just get on.

Lest anyone think I'm giving birth in a goat pond with Enya music playing, I am actually getting medical care from a team of midwives. And they keep assuring me this is all completely normal; the average first baby born naturally arrives eight days after their due date. Really? You wouldn't know it from popular culture. Pregnancy books switch to motherhood mode at 41 weeks. All the pregnancy apps on my iPhone have stopped updating apart from incessant reminders to purchase their babyhood options (or worse - they have a cute little graphic saying "baby should be here by now!"). Before my encounter with the homebirthers, I'd never heard of babies being late, and thought it was a weird and risky thing. It's a common perception - certainly everyone I know feels the same way, and is worriedly calling looking for updates. (As if they'd call asking if the baby was born yet and we'd reply "Dammit, I knew there was something we meant to tell you". Just kidding everyone; we do appreciate that you care.).

The nesting instinct hasn't kicked in either, though I have had the urge to dye my hair. Our freezer lacks a supply of casseroles ready for cactus hour, but I am sporting a fetching head of Manic Panic red. And yes, I was first assured it was okay from a medical point of view, as birth defects aren't exactly a concern at this stage unless an already-grown foot drops off, or something. My hair required bleaching first, then to settle for a couple of days before being dyed, and if you want to attract attention let me suggest waddling around forty weeks pregnant with crunchy orange-and-yellow hair; Lady Gaga would weep with envy. My hair does look rather smashing now, though I wonder if in years to come my kid will look at their mother in their baby photos and think it's normal for mothers to have vividly coloured hair and drawings on their skin, and those who don't are the weird ones. Gosh I hope so.

Can We Add Right Wing Nuts to the DSM?

2011-08-23T16:50:00.001+10:00

Watching the Convoy Of No Confidence roll into Canberra this week - very quickly, considering the tiny size of the protest - one thinks that these people are nuts. They're not sure what they want, there's no coherent narrative, other than demands for an election which should apparently be a referendum of the grab bag of issues they're screeching about. To call these protesters nuts seems a throwaway line, but I've been observing the state of the hysterical right in this country lately, and wondering...is there some form of collective mental illness going on here? All contact with rational thought seems to have been lost. Consider these symptoms:

Delusions - the right are determined to believe things that are demonstrably untrue; like that the country is being run by Labor in close alliance with the Greens. How I wish this were the case. And how far it is from being true. Does the Malaysian solution sound like something Bob Brown thought up? How about 5% emissions reductions targets, maintaining troops in Afghanistan, the ban on same-sex marriage...nope, not Greens policies. If the Greens are running the country, they're doing so in an odd roundabout kind of way that completely contradicts everything they stand for.

Black and White Thinking - you'll never hear a right-winger say "you may have a point there, but I still hold my original belief based on...". No, that would be logical and fair. The right never concede anything. They refuse to admit any Labor or Greens initiative is ever worthwhile, or that the Liberal party ever makes mistakes. There are no nuances. One side is all good and the other side is all bad. But completely good or bad isn't the behaviour of people, but silent movie stereotypes. I'll admit John Howard performed well on the gun control issue. Tony Abbott encourages volunteerism through his own examples. You'd never see such concessions from the right. It's all heroes and villains.

Lack of Empathy - live animal exports? Mistreatment at Indonesian abattoirs? Not important. Animals are for meat, they say; the service of humans. Better that thousands of cattle suffer than a few cattle ranchers have to find alternative livelihoods. Even if you enjoy steak and sleep well at night, their lack of compassion can still shock. The plight of desperate people who have fled war zones and risked their lives to come here on rickety overcrowded boats seeking asylum is dismissed; those people are illegals, queue jumpers, and if they are locked up for years, transferred to countries with terrible human rights records, or drown on the way, well they should have thought of that before they came here.

Catastrophising - This is the worst government we've ever had. Australia has lost its way. We're in terrible shape. The cost of living has spiralled out of control, we've never been so badly off, no wonder crime is out of control and we're all poor and terrified. It doesn't matter that we came through the GFC largely unscathed, that CPI is not spiralling anywhere and all types of violent crime are down - Australia is rooned and Joolyar rooned it. If by any chance things aren't so bad, well that's thanks to John Howard setting us up so well.

Faulty Logic - once it would have been a pretty serious thing to make death threats against members of parliament. Not anymore. One of the country's most prominent shock jocks declares that the Prime Minister and the leader of the Greens should be drowned in sacks. Joe Hockey listens to an attendee at a town hall meeting declare that he wants to shoot the federal cabinet, and responds not that he understands but violence isn't acceptable, but just that he understands. He understands, you see, because people are angry. When the right are angry, it's apparently okay to threaten to carry on like violent psychopaths.

Taken together, I'm not sure if it's enough to be classified as a mental illness. But it's not a pretty picture. The first step in getting help is admitting you've got a problem, but as we've seen that's beyond the capabilities of those on the shrieking far right. They'll never admit they're wrong. We could ignore them, but they are having a ridiculously disproportionate influence on the political narrative - ordinary people are coming to share their distorted beliefs. What can we do? I fear we may be in real trouble here.

Whatever You Say

2011-08-19T14:41:00.000+10:00

It's been a week of the very direst stupidity in Australian politics. In just one day, we had the sight of carbon tax protesters standing on the lawn outside our freely elected Parliament House, demanding an election as they refuse to accept the result of the last one, all the while proclaiming "Democracy is Dead". Meanwhile inside the august building Barnaby Joyce was proclaiming to an anti-same sex marriage gathering that legalising gay marriage would imperil his daughters: "We know that the best protection for those girls is that they get themselves into a secure relationship with a loving husband, and I want that to happen for them. I don't want any legislator to take that right away from me." He didn't say what they needed protection from - a future as ageing spinsters if their pool of potential husbands doesn't include closeted gay men, perhaps? Nor did he eludicate just what rights a father should have in relation to the marriages of his adult daughters, but in a free society in Australia it's generally accepted to be very little "right" at all. I'm sure Mr Joyce's daughters are very nice young women, and I feel sorry for them suffering such embarrassment. There seems to be a running theme here of conservative politicians regarding their daughters as possessions to be guarded.

Miranda Devine wasn't in Canberra for all this - too far from Manly - but she was adding to the national stupidity index nonetheless. Last weekend, she churned out a nasty little piece denigrating same sex parenthood, airily linking the London riots to single mothers. When she got the reaction she was no doubt hoping for, she threw her hands in the air in the manner of a toddler caught doing something naughty and proclaimed "what?" Her twitter stream was something to see. At first she seemed bewildered by all the nasty lefties picking on her li'l old column, but by the time she posted her follow up later in the week she'd figured it all out; the backlash was part of the conspiracy to silence free speech in this country. And to destroy the institution of marriage, of course.

Conservatives love to trumpet their "right to free speech" whenever they say something bigoted, of course, even as they argue against a bill of rights for Australia. It gives them something to do when they're not demanding an election over the carbon tax - we have to have an election, they say, as polls show most people are against the tax. Undemocratic not to. Although polls show most people are in favour of gay marriage, and a bill of rights, and can we get some consistency here?

Let's just put everything to a poll. We'll take conservatives at their word. Make Tony Abbott happy (although I doubt the man ever would truly stop whinging). If they want what they erroneously believe to be "democracy", we'll give it to them and screw the expense. Nothing gets done or banned without a poll. Let's start with same sex marriage, live animal exports and a bill of rights - all issues where despite their best efforts, the right can't seem to get mainstream Australia on board with their opinion. Then we can move on to carbon tax, the war in Afghanistan and offshore processing of asylum seekers. Why not? Conservatives don't understand representative democracy anyway so let's trash it and replace it with mob rule. Maybe then they'll be happy.

The New "Right To Life"

2011-08-09T12:20:00.001+10:00

Amidst all the doom and gloom this morning, some nice news for a change; Federal Finance Minister Penny Wong and her partner, Sophie Allouache, are expecting their first child (surely showing some confidence in the economy). Whilst it's no one's damn business how any child is conceived, unless the parents choose to say so, in this case Ms Wong has; thanking the IVF clinic and donor who have helped the couple to achieve their pregnancy.

Well, most people would think it lovely news anyway. But I'm sure talkback radio and the Murdoch press are soon to go into overdrive (edit: they already have) about the whole thing - two women having a baby together? Oh how icky, how unnatural. The more enlightened of them won't directly say such things, though - they'll dress it up in concern for the child. Such views aren't rare; take this piece from social activist Maggie Millar published in the Fairfax press last week. In writing that "Recent talk about the rights of gay and infertile couples, and some single women, to 'donor' conception and adoption emphasises adult entitlements at the expense of infants", Ms Millar confuses legal access to donor sperm and eggs with the horrific trade in human foetuses and live children. The heartbreaking trade in humans is something no one can condone, but Ms Millar and others like her apply the same moral standard to children conceived using donor eggs and sperm in this country. The rights of these children, Ms Millar declares, are overridden by the rights of the adults who wish to access donor reproductive technology.

It's a complicated legal issue, but not one that is helped by simplistic "won't somebody think of the children?" pleas. To quote again from the article, "According to Australian ethicist Professor Margaret Somerville, no procedure should be embarked upon unless we can be absolutely certain that children conceived by various medical interventions will approve of what was done to them as infants when they reach adulthood." Normally I agree that no medical intervention should take place unless it is to the benefit of the child (I've written extensively over the years of my horror of circumcision). But in this case, lack of intervention wouldn't result in a different outcome for the child - but no child at all. Should we weigh up whether every child will deem their existence worthwhile before deciding if they should be born? I think many people deep down can't quite shake the idea that the souls of unborn children are floating around, ready to attach themselves to live babies; in this case, we are condemning these kids to a less-than-perfect family situation, and if things had just been a bit different, they could have gone to a loving house with a Mum, Dad and huge mortgage in the suburbs.

But it's simply the case that without such reproductive technology, they would never have been born; without the particular combination of DNA their existence, such as it may be, would not have commenced. It is heartbreaking to read the stories of young adults, frustrated in attempts to learn of their genetic heritage, feeling rejected by their biological parents. But when Ms Millar writes "To force any human being to forfeit their own reality...in order that someone else can live out their dream of parenthood is highly questionable", she fails to realise that for many of these children, without donor reproductive technology there simply would be no reality. They would never have existed.

So what is the answer here? We have to balance the rights of the young people using donor technologies, with yes the rights of adults to access the technology...and an acknowledgement that for most people in this country, being born is better than the alternative. Should young people be born at all cots? Of course not, otherwise we'd be going down the uncomfortable path of banning abortions. But on the other hand, children born through natural conception also do not get a say in whether they feel their existence has been worthwhile - and nor do we have social commentators huffing about whether they really should have been born. Is this all a smokescreen for saying not only that if you're not lucky enough to be straight and fertile you don't deserve to have kids, but that some children - the offspring of the fertile and monogamous - have more of a right to life than others? God I hope not, but it's hard to escape that conclusion.

The Quest For Better Blogging and a Born Baby

2011-08-07T15:47:00.002+10:00

I love reading the words of bloggers who turn the trials of everyday life into whimsy; their families' everyday lives writ large as meaningful warm humour. I wish I had that knack. You'd think it would be easy. DH and I both resemble huge nerds, though without the technical skill; DH is very witty; we're gestating a new life form, have a cat who is so crazy attached to me he hurls himself at the door if I dare try for some privacy in the bathroom, and have a goldfish with dysthymia and another with anger management issues. You'd think the comedy would write itself.

Sadly for my purposes, no one is funny on cue. When I look to my household in need of inspiration, everyone acts like I've just told them there'll be no more grocery shopping till all the leftovers are gone. I sit down next to DH with a notebook, but all he says his "stop...bloody...staring at me! Go find something to do" (as if I can go jogging or put up shelves at this stage). Xander refuses to be cute to order. And goldfish have their reputation for a reason. I think I'm dragging everyone down.

Have you ever been heading on your way out the door at a party only to think "what the hell...one more drink" and head back for more? That's what my unborn child has done. After several weeks of being engaged - locked, loaded and ready for birth, head burrowed down in the exit tunnel - Pinky has apparently decided it wants a last look around, bounced up, and is taking a tour all around the abdomen, harpooning organs on the way.

There are some situations in life when everyone has advice (if you've ever wanted "suggestions", try announcing at the office you've got insomnia). An overdue or stubborn baby is one of these. Normally I hate unsolicited advice, but by now I'm willing to try anything. I watch TV with my butt in the air and chin on the coffee table. I've spent a fortune on homeopathic remedies (and normally I disdain bottled water). I've had sex with a curry. I've no idea if any of this stuff will work. How do you measure it? According to one study I read, acupuncture is 88% effective for inducing labour in term pregnancies - what does that mean? The other 12% of women never have their babies at all? However, I'm determined to get this baby out of me by hook or by crook, without involving a scalpel if possible, so I'm going to keep trying all the bizarre methods to be found on Google. Eel tea - I never thought my life would come to this.

UPDATE: After my latest midwife appointment, things are actually worse. Pinky is "free", meaning if it was any less ready to be born it would be coming out of my ears. So I've resorted to more serious natural induction methods. Though I'm not sure waving a teddy between my legs and cooing "come on darling" will help...

Debunking Facebook Statuses, #1

2011-08-02T14:23:00.003+10:00

Sadly, one of the many things idiots often lack is originality. They love copying Facebook statuses complaining about the state of the world, but rarely take the time to check the accuracy of what they've posted. Many of the bordering-on-offensive copied statuses they post are loosely based on American statistics twisted by right wingers; a "Washington" gets replaced by "Canberra" and then it's reposted in all it's inaccurate glory. Take this gem:

"They sent my census form back! Again!!! In response to the question: "Do you have any dependents?"
I replied - "2 million illegal immigrants, 1 million crack heads, 1 million unemployable people, 1/2 million people in over 100 prisons, half of Afghanistan and 535 politicians in Canberra.
Apparently, this was NOT an acceptable answer. Re-post if you agree."

How wrong are these "facts" for Australia? In the first of what may become a regular series, let me count the ways:

2 million illegal immigrants
In 2009, Australia received around 2750 unauthorised arrivals by boat (source). There were another 15,800 visa over stayers (source).

1 million crack heads
One in twenty people are crack addicts?! Well they must not live in inner Sydney; I've never seen them. Truth is an estimated 1.3% of people have used cocaine - at all - in the past twelve months; crack cocaine is "rarely seen in Australia" (source).

1 million unemployable people
In June 2011 there were 589,100 registered unemployed people in Australia (source). Most unemployed people are on benefits for a period of less than six months before finding employment.

1/2 million people in over 100 prisons
In 2009, the Australian prison population was 29,300 (source).

[H]alf of Afghanistan
Over the last ten years Australia has provided $700 million in civilian aid to Afghanistan (source). Given to half the population, that's about $4.69 per person, per year. Not really enough to cover the "you break it, you bought it" policy of the good guests I hope we've been in their country.

535 politicians in Canberra
There are 150 members of the House of Representatives and 76 Senators in the Australian Federal Parliament in Canberra (source). This one's my favourite because it's so easy to quantify; there are 535 members of the U.S. Congress. (What? You didn't know that off the top of your head?)

And lastly of course, Census night isn't until the 9th of August, so of course the form would be sent back if it was filled in now, but if one has accepted all the above statements as a work of latter-day genius I doubt they're quibbling over these semantics. It's been fun debunking all this; I'm sure I'll get a chance to do it again soon (what's that status doing the rounds about drug testing...).

The Unholy Babble

2011-08-01T16:20:00.001+10:00

It makes a change from hearing about the carbon tax, but it seems like religion is everywhere in politics and the media these days. Whether it's religious education classes in public schools, same sex marriage, or marking "no religion" on the census, religion is exerting an influence on the public debate far out of proportion to the level of devotion seen in the populace. Our atheist Prime Minister, Julia Gillard, is vehemently against gay marriage, which means she is either pandering to the Christian lobby, or she finds the whole thing, you know, a bit icky - I'm not sure which is more distasteful. Meanwhile, Fred Nile - elected to the NSW Upper House in 2007 with a vote of 4.4%, in our strange electoral system - threatened the NSW government that unless they banned ethics classes in schools (public schools!) in favour of religious education, he would withdraw support for their IR reforms. With the Australian census coming up, atheists have been campaigning to have people tick no religion on the census. It doesn't seem to make much sense to call yourself an Anglican say, just because your mother was, if you haven't opened a bible or set foot in a church in years. What it does do is allow the likes of Abbott and Akerman to claim Australia is a majority Christian nation. Seems an odd thing to say. Whilst religious belief is hard to quantify, less than 50% of Australian funerals are now held in churches. If you can't be bothered getting to church even when you're dead - you can lie down and everything! - it would seem your faith isn't that strong.

Why do we accept our politicians believing things which are demonstrably untrue? Abbott, Gillard et al make ridiculous claims about asylum seekers, climate change, what is tasteful humour, and they are eventually, hopefully, called out on it. But we accept a politician's right to believe religious nonsense. Not only believe it, but to let it inform their policies and decisions. Even in the case of atheist Gillard, she allows the religious views of others to sway her attitudes to such things as same-sex marriage which are otherwise only the business of the couple who wish to get married. If this is really a secular country, we shouldn't allow things to be run this way.

What I'm proposing is that people of religious faith should not be allowed to hold political office unless they undertake that their religious views will never affect their political decisions. It's one thing for people to believe that the world was literally created in seven days, but should that be an influence on our national discourse? This isn't restricting freedom of religion - people unable to divorce their personal religious beliefs from their political stance are free to live their lives as private citizens. But those who strongly believe in a deity that informs their views - well, that's very sweet but I don't want them running the country.

Review: Colour Me Mine, Summer Hill

2011-07-30T14:25:00.002+10:00

The idea of baby showers has always rather horrified me. Matching word games and nappies with melted chocolate bars to emulate baby poop? No thanks. But I wanted to do something with friends before welcoming my progeny into the world, so we went to Colour Me Mine ceramics painting studio at Summer Hill. I've been meaning to visit for many years, but just never got around to it, so this seemed like the perfect time.

We booked a private room for the occasion; usually painters are seated in the main shop area, though there aren't many walk ins, avoiding that sat-in-a-train-station feeling. The sitter's fee is $12 per person, with pieces to be painted priced on top of that. At $20 for a coffee mug, this makes it a kind of pricey way to acquire homewares, but at least your place settings will be unique. Pieces range from small candy dishes through to toys, money boxes and even a water cooler (which I have my eye on for next time).

Once you've picked out your pieces and paints, staff gave us a very very long explanation of differing paint techniques that can be applied. Generally the staff were helpful without being intrusive but this is perhaps one aspect of the experience worth changing - we were all keen to start painting (and eating the food I'd prepared) and really could have asked if we needed help with anything specific.

Not happy being described as "simple"

Anyway then we were off to paint. It's lots of fun. A simple piece can be completed in a matter of minutes - my mother managed to complete two dishes in under half an hour - but with three coats of (fast drying) paint required for each colour area, larger pieces can take quite some time - especially for DH, who in his usual style with menus, couldn't decide what to paint. Eventually, he opted to create a noughts-and-crosses set for our kid.

The paint colours are displayed on a tile which has already been fired, showing how they'll look on the finished piece. It's just as well because the paints go on pastel - slightly disconcerting when your planned red cat dish goes on a pretty pink (although my cat would probably prefer it that way).

Once you're all done, pieces are left behind to be fired in the kiln, which takes a few days; they'll call you when your stuff is ready (somewhat inconvenient if you're not from the local area, like my family). The finished pieces are vibrantly coloured and stunningly glossy, nothing like the chalky pastel things you were working on. The studio has lots of stencils and tips for painting, so you don't need any particular talent to produce a lovely piece (although some of the artier finished creations on display made me want to weep with envy).

So whilst it's slightly expensive, I'm keen to go back; the experience itself is fun, and you get to create truly one-of-a-kind creations. Now if only we had room for a water cooler...

Colour Me Mine
1/50 Carlton Crescent
Summer Hill 2130
(02) 9797 0888

Dark Times

2011-07-26T13:15:00.000+10:00

It was a weekend of bad news. How much sorrow can we take? How much horror can the brain process, how much hurt? The news came out slowly on Saturday, Australian time. Bombing in Norway, the first reports said, a few casualties. It seemed very sad but one of those events that happens in far-off cities from time to time; local group of loons trying to make a point. But then word came through of a shooting, at a summer camp. Summer camp? These were kids. And the death toll rose and rose - 17, in the fifties, at one stage reported in the nineties, now revised back to 76, offering some very little cold comfort. The stories were horrific. A gunman posing as a police officer, pretending he was there to perform security checks and shooting the assembled teenagers; impersonating a rescuer to coax frightened survivors out of their hiding places, then opening fire; shooting victims as they tried to swim to safety 600 metres away. The brain reeled, unable to cope with the sick reality of it all. Who did this?

Sections of the media turned to their usual suspects; al Qaeda. It must be Islamic terrorists. Andrew Bolt was quick to assert that the attacks must call into question Norway's immigration policy. As it became apparent that the gunman was a right wing extremist, there was the inevitable switch of focus. Well, the conservatives harrumphed, he's obviously a lone crazy. A nut. Nothing to do with us. Although, they added...you can understand, really, why people are so angry at their governments these days.

Can we make this clear? The Utøya attacks were fuelled in a climate of right-wing hatred sprouting all over the world. Do you think it couldn't happen here? Of course it could. The right-wing media in Australia is fermenting right-wing bile to a disgusting extent. One of the country's most prominent broadcasters, Alan Jones, states that the Prime Minister and leader of the Greens should be drowned in sacks; an audience member at a town hall meeting tells the Shadow Treasurer that he wants to take up arms against the government, and Hockey says he understands without a word of dissuasion; 70% of newspapers in this country are owned by News Corp which openly peddles its right wing agenda. Of course, this is a democracy, and people are free to hold differing views; that's not the context we're discussing here. I'm talking about the anger people are entitled to feel against the government being used as justification for violence and bloodshed. In the tumult being thrown up by the shock jocks and right-wing media, a massacre such as this would come as no surprise. "But we're angry" is the justification being parroted again and again. Being angry does not make this okay. Those of us on this side of politics saw 12 years of a government who slashed public services, demonised asylum seekers and lied that they were throwing their children off boats, ran the country into the ground economically in the name of budget surpluses, went to war in defiance of the wishes of 70% of the population, referred to the hundreds of thousands of citizens who marched against the war as mobs...we saw all this (well actually everyone saw it, but the right wingers didn't care) and I don't remember the fury from the left then. Where were the death threats, the screaming headlines? None, because as angry as we got, we understood violence is not okay. The right wingers demanding an election to have their say are the ones loading the shotguns when they don't get their way.

To claim the horror in Norway was divorced from political ideology ignores the reality of the targets. The shootings occurred at a summer camp for supporters of the ruling, centre left Norwegian Labor party. The shooter targeted the country's future leaders from the left and the children of the current leadership; young people who held the ideals of tolerance, multiculturalism and social justice so despised by the right. To target the children is an act intended to destroy hope itself. And to Norway's eternal credit, they are not allowing hope to be destroyed. They have vowed not revenge, but more democracy. The Mayor of Oslo has vowed: We will punish the killer together, and the punishment will be more openness and more tolerance. Democracy does not come from the barrel of a gun. You can't threaten your way into power then claim you represent the will of the people. Conservative commentators are rushing to excuse the far right from any responsibilities for this atrocity, such as in this offensive piece by Peter Hartcher. Conservatives are the masters of double standards, and can't see that the blame for these events much lie partly with them for stirring up hatred and lies.

If only the right wing sprouters of bile would take a look at themselves for a moment, and stop the ferment of hate before a tragedy happens here.

~~~~~

Still processing the events in Norway, news came through of the death at 27 of Amy Winehouse. It's a measure of the life Ms Winehouse led - or the media coverage of that life, anyway - that reaction to her death was not cries of "Oh my god, no. Really?" but "Oh. Well, that's a bit sad". Unlike the unexpected horror and devastation of the Norwegian attacks, this had a sad inevitability to it. You felt petty for considering the two events in the same way.

Amy Winehouse was no manufactured pop puppet sprung to fame from a reality TV show, polished and packaged and presented to the world with the stunning lack of originality; nor was she a starlet famous for being famous. She was, as Russell Brand touchingly wrote in this memoir, a f**king genius. But Brand's piece is also a reflection on addiction, and that's how Winheouse had been viewed in recent years. An addiction, not a woman, not a musician, her demise as inevitable as the jazz greats who proceeded her. Addiction and genius go hand in hand, the line goes, the former dwarfing the latter in the public mindset.

But in reality addiction signifies nothing. Not genius. Not even pain, often; many addicts come from happy lives. And most addicts are not idiots. You know what you're doing. "Drugs kill" warnings are beyond a joke; yeah, you know that. It seems worth it, the mundane reality of life overruled by the shimmering escape of the substance of choice. Sure, there's the stage where life becomes a support mechanism for the addiction; you need it, but you don't enjoy it. Did Ms Winehouse ever reach that level? We'll never know. Maybe she left delighting in the joys of a high, still. There will be no more music, everyone reminds each other. But more than that, there will be no final, successful trip to rehab; no memoir, no rounds of the talk show circuit. No standing ovation at the Grammys or Brit awards as she collects her Lifetime Achievement award; no OK! magazine cover as she held up a rosy-cheeked toddler and declared she'd finally found true happiness. Maybe she saw that future, and didn't want it. We'll probably never know, but maybe she knew what she was doing and chose to walk away.

The Hypothetical Tony Abbott

2011-07-22T19:30:00.000+10:00

1:30pm, Sunday, 31st July 2011. The courtyard of Parliament House, Canberra. The Leader of the Federal Opposition, The Honourable Tony Abbott, is addressing the assembled media. He is flanked by the Deputy Opposition Leader, Julie Bishop, and the Shadow Treasurer, Joe Hockey.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your time here on this beautiful but very cold Canberra Sunday. I wouldn't have dragged you from your families on a Sunday unless the issue was of great import, and that is what we as a nation are facing now. So I will get right to the point.

"In recent months, this great nation has become heavily divided on the issue of a pricing scheme for carbon. Make no mistake, the science is in; climate change is happening. The question we have been grappling with is what action Australia, as a nation, should take in the face of this issue.

"Whilst Australia is a first world economy and part of the global community, we are nonetheless small carbon emitters on a global scale. We enjoy a strong economy which is built on the hard work of the miners and industries allowing us to enjoy prosperity. I believe and always will, that the economic security of our workers should take precedence over making changes to our economy which will cause hardship for Australian families whilst having little impact on a global scale.

"Recently the Prime Minister Julia Gillard has released details of the Australian Labor Party's plans for a carbon tax. This tax, by targeting industries generating much of our Gross Domestic Product, has the potential to devastate our economy; causing large job losses, decreases in our export figures, and much hardship. I took the position that as this tax had the potential for such harm, and was not put to the voters at the last election, that the Australian public deserved a fresh election to have their say on the matter.

"However, the divisions in our society over this issue have become too deep, too hateful. Much of the agenda of the current debate is being set by certain sections of the media. Following the scandals of News Ltd in the United Kingdom, we can no longer accept this organisation from dictating terms of our debate in Australia. This anti-tax, anti-government rhetoric has seeped through to other quarters of the media. The insults are becoming too personal. Death threats are not an acceptable part of the political landscape in Australia and we must never allow them to be.

"In light of this, and bearing in mind the unique situation of our current parliament, what I am calling for is a new national unity. Without constitutional precedence for a fresh election, what we need at the moment is national consensus. In a democracy, it is the role of elected representatives to take advice and make decisions on behalf of the voters. In recent days, myself and my colleagues in the shadow cabinet have been receiving briefings from Australia's top economists and climate scientists in order to frame our position. This brings me to today's announcement.

"I have spent this morning in talks with the Prime Minister, and informed her of our new position. In light of the opposing threats of climate change and damage to our economy, and in order to end the damage done to our democracy by hate-filled rhetoric, we will no longer ask for an election or oppose the carbon pricing scheme out of hand. Instead, what I have offered Ms Gillard is that we will work together with the government in framing the scheme so as to ensure that we can work towards the goal of reducing carbon emissions, whilst protecting the mining sector and those industries so vital to our economy.

"I am aware this stance will come as a shock to many of our supporters. The feelings against the carbon tax have run very high in recent times, and sometimes we, in the opposition, were incautious in knowing where to be seen to lend support. I'm sure all will agree that death threats and personal attacks go against the proud political tradition of this great nation. Our diggers did not fight for this country to see the level of discourse dragged down to this level. Through bipartisanship, working together, we can seek to mend the deep gaps which have opened up in this country. Working together, we can reach a balance. We must protect workers jobs now, and we must protect the future of the planet from climate change that could see the Earth our grandchildren inherit unrecognisable from the one we enjoy now.

"What we need now is consensus and acceptance. I understand there will be many questions arising from this announcement, however I will be holding only a brief question-and-answer period so that myself and other members of the shadow cabinet can meet with Ms Gillard and members of the Federal Cabinet to discuss strategies moving forward [some mirth in the crowd]. We are all aware on both sides of of politics of just how critical these issues are, and are hoping to release a joint policy as soon as is feasible."

[Mr Abbott and colleagues are joined by the Prime Minister of Australia, Julia Gillard].

"Questions?"

The Grass is Always Greener...

2011-07-21T14:17:00.000+10:00

This morning I woke up with my hands completely numb, my feet swollen, unable to get back to sleep because of ligament pain. For a brief moment, I wished I wasn't pregnant, but getting up to go to work in a city skyscraper, then off to cocktails in a small bar. Then I caught myself - I used to have that life, and I didn't care for it at all. I've just been sucked into grass is greener syndrome, which seems to affect all those of us with a slightly pessimistic disposition; the belief that no matter what you're doing, doing something else would be more rewarding.

I've spent the past couple of years involved in community work and activism. People say it must be hard working with homeless young people but that's nothing compared with arguing with a council admin assistant who wants you to darken the stripes on the Mayor's tie in the mayoral head shot going in the council information column in the local rag which is your job to produce. Imagine your fifth phone call in an hour trying to explain that no matter the wonders of modern photo editing software, there is a limit to how much you can differentiate pale blue stripes on a tie against a pale blue shirt. That, let me tell you, that is the sort of day at the office that will drive a woman to drink. And I don't mean fancy cocktails either - I would come home a down a shot before dinner. Nurse, give me something to deaden the pain. No matter what I have to do at work now - convincing a teenager not to throw her education away, arguing with the Department of Housing on behalf of someone determined to live alone but not ready yet - at least it has a point. One day, when I'm gone, I might have made some sort of difference to the world.

So, I guess, does having a child. But I've had every pregnancy complication under the sun, and now have some sort of flu-like thing as well, and in my delirium I've convinced myself I'd like a return to something like my old life. Never mind that there was no hanging out in small bars - the cool people never asked me along, and I much preferred cocooning at home anyway - and the weekends were just awful, hours to fill with nothing but shopping for stuff I didn't need and drinking alcohol I could have done with out. Right now, all that independence and health - or at least, the energy to actually get up and head off to the city nicely groomed, and stay awake all day - seems pretty appealing.

What is it that makes us yearn for what we don't have, no matter how happy we are with what we've got? When I was childless, single, and earning decent money, I wished for a partner and kids. I've noticed that people with kids often view their childless days through rose-coloured glasses - remembering the weekends as a whirl of lie-ins, all day cafe breakfasts, and dinners out. They forget that these weekends may have only come along once every few months, and then you'd have to cancel because you were rostered on at work, or had to help a friend move, or were otherwise expected to drop everything because of the endless free time you were delighted to have filled by your partnered friends.

But this post isn't actually about having children vs the childfree life. I've been wondering about the phenomenon of wishing and wondering if life could have gone a different way, the natural "Grass is Greener" syndrome almost all of us experience. It's not just work for me - what if I'd stayed in Newcastle? Bought that flat? Travelled? Not mailed that letter? I'll never know. What about you, reader? What do you wonder about, what would you like to change?

The Other Side

2011-07-17T15:00:00.003+10:00

All my life I've been quite an independent sort of a person, venturing fearlessly into the world and doing battle with the grown ups on their terms from a very early age. God help you if you jumped ahead of the eleven year old Nico at the deli counter and tried the excuse "I thought you were with your mum." I've lived alone for a decade, forged a career, fought my battles and haven't let myself get (too) intimidated by anyone.

Until, that is, I found myself in the latter stages of pregnancy, with a crippling joint condition, and getting teary when DH heads off to work. Alone? All day?

What has happened to me? I don't need a man. I don't need anybody. But I was completely unprepared for how fragile and vulnerable the "good grief, I'm enormous" part of pregnancy would make me feel. I read Naomi Wolf's account of her experiences of the phenomenon in Misconceptions , and thought "what a load of sentimental nonsense". But when I go out now, the world seems big and scary and full of things - people - who can hurt me. I cling to DH's arm, hiding behind his body. And I dread going out alone at all. I've taken two hard knocks to the abdomen from careless strangers (both by "women of a certain age", and I hope neither of them have ever complained about kids with schoolbags on the train). Maybe it's part of the nesting instinct, a need to stay close to home. I just know I'm looking forward to in a couple months time, when I can stride fearlessly forward in my steel-capped Docs, and ram people with the pram.

At home for now though, we invited my sister-in-law and her partner around to show off the nursery. Like all cliched new parents, we have become convinced that anyone would find anything to do with our child as fascinating as we do, so I was a little startled to hear my sister-in-law say she was looking forward to being able to play with the baby and then hand it back, whilst my brother-in-law was taken aback by DH's proud and detailed descriptions of the baby kicking. I wasn't put off thinking they were rude, merely to realise I have squarely landed on the other side of the parental divide.

For so long I was one of the "kids? oh...no" people. The kids were fine; it was their parents I had a problem with. Seemingly unable to talk about anything else, they would talk about feeding and changing and routines and the Wiggles and I would nod and smile, pity them their dull lives, and escape as soon as I could to the nearest bar.

But now DH and I have become parents. We will bore anyone who asks, or even who doesn't, silly with our plans for modern cloth nappies and bilingual playgroup and attachment (to a point) parenting (whilst being very careful to not say we will do anything better than any existing parent on Earth). Today I've been painting furniture for the baby whilst DH is out buying blockout curtains for the nursery and I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing. Sure, I still care about politics and social justice and train timetables from the 1930s. But somewhere between the first discernible kick and the ritual visits to Ikea and Bunnings, I lost my childfree innocence. I will never dance to "Blow My Whistle" by DJ Alligator with the aid of intoxicating substances at 2am in the same way again.

Why The Carbon Tax Is Not Like The GST

2011-07-14T12:02:00.003+10:00

"Gillard should call an election on the carbon tax, we had one on the GST!" is one of the many cries from opponents of the Government's proposed carbon tax. The line runs that whilst Howard may have about-faced on his promise to never, ever introduce a GST, he bravely took it to the polls, won a mandate and we were all blissfully happy with the consumption tax.

Like so much elese in the carbon tax debate, this premise is just plain wrong. First of all, there were many issues in the 1998 Federal Election - the Asian economic crisis, the crippling cuts made by the Howard government to public services, the rise of One Nation and nationalism in Australian politics, even (hard as it is to believe now), the Republic. In a democracy, no general election is a referendum on a single issue; that is something more akin to mob rule.

Second, and slightly more critical to our argument here - there was no mandate on the GST. The Coalition lost the popular vote, 49.02% to 50.98%; only winning overall on number of seats. The Australian public did not vote for a GST or endorse it, and whilst Howard never made any pretence of his desire to introduce a consumption tax, it was never a done deal with these results. Without enough bums on seats in parliament, he was reliant on deals with the Democrats (ensuring their eventual demise as a political party) in order to get the GST through.

Gillard did promise not to introduce a carbon tax under a government she led, but she couldn't reasonably have forseen the outcome of the 2010 Federal election. In the end, we got what we voted for - no side could form a clear majority. This is nothing new, but it's nothing like the "GST election" that never was.

Pro-Choice on Feminism

2011-07-13T16:55:00.001+10:00

Are young women trying to impress Bob Ellis? Surely not, but why are so many of them falling over themselves to deny being feminists?

I could go down the path of blaming Lady Gaga. The redoubtable...Ms Gaga? or is she always a Lady? opined in 2009 ''I think it's great to be a sexy, beautiful woman who can f--- her man after she makes him dinner. There's a stigma around feminism that's a little bit man-hating. And I don't promote hatred, ever." Apparently Ms Gaga is in Sydney at the moment. Perhaps amongst her busy schedule of nightclub visits and appearances on A Current Affair (you want to talk about hatred?) she could take some time to brush up on feminist history and appreciate she couldn't be where she is today without the actions of the feminists who proceeded her. But I don't want to pick on Gaga specifically. She's not alone in her views; I hear so many young women preface statements with "I'm not a feminist, but...". Why has feminism got such an image problem?

It can't be that the work is done. The basic feminist issues - equal pay, equal rights, more just treatment of sexual assault cases in the judicial system - are agreed upon, if quietly, by the majority of the population. But we see drastically different images of what feminism means. The media presents a distorted picture; feminism is asexual, angry women proclaiming their superiority to men in the Murdoch press, high-flying career women banging their heads on the glass ceiling in the Fairfax press, so determined to be inclusive of minorities it can feel irrelevant to "ordinary Australian mums" in academia. Still, I think most women would describe themselves as feminists. For those who don't, it's the hatred thing that probably puts them off. I've also heard it said that feminism has made things worse for women. Until recently, I was unaware that there are large numbers of stay-at-home mothers amongst young women, who are quite happy in their situation and have no plans to go back to work, even once their children are older. These women feel under attack from feminists, and some yearn for the days when it was a given. some feel that women are better instinctively able to care for children. I don't think anyone's attacking them, but a few stay-at-home mothers want to deny all women the choice they have had. It's not something I would ever do, but go nuts, volunteer at the school or research the family tree or drive the community transport vehicle or whatever you like. Just recognise that this is a choice you have, and thanks to feminism you also had the choice to do a civil engineering degree and live alone till you're 43.

Well, financially permitting - I won't get into feminism and socialism today. But if feminism somehow disappeared tomorrow, many of the rights we take for granted would go with it. Maybe a little basic feminist history should be added to the high school syllabus (I'm sure kids would just love that). But something has to be done, anyway. The more a few women say "I'm not a feminist", the more it undermines us all.

Where I Weigh In On The Carbon Tax

2011-07-11T16:40:00.001+10:00

It's been a tough few months for those of us on this side of politics - trying to defend the carbon tax without the firm details of how the thing was going to work. Yesterday all was revealed - a carbon price of $23 a tonne applying to the top 500 polluters only, exemptions and assistance for high emissions high trade industries (worth $60,000 a job to the steel industry), generous compensation for just about everyone. I'm outraged.

Outrage is the emotion du jour. It would hardly have mattered to great heaving slabs of the population what the details of the carbon tax package were, they were against it. Tony Abbott appeared on Neil Mitchell's Melbourne radio show this morning, declaring Tony Abbott: "I am here to attack the carbon tax, not to explain it." Mitchell replied "But you have no detail?". Laughter. And we see measured, thoughtful responses like this one from the Herald Sun website (and being the responsible journalists they are, I'm sure they've reported this and provided the IP address to the AFP). The generous tax breaks make no difference - they simply don't believe Gillard or Labour on this.

In light of this, I'm pretty disappointed myself. Since whatever was announced would have been rejected, I would have liked to see a carbon tax that would have hit all households not solely relying on government benefits for $10 a week at least - and not handed it back. Seriously, if you can't afford just over a dollar a day for the sake of the planet, your budget is seriously skewed somewhere. If you really, really can't afford it, then you'll make changes in your budget to reduce your consumption - which is what needs to happen anyway. Miranda Devine would have you believe that despite climate change being a leftist fantasy, most families are doing every last little thing they can to reduce their environmental impact. Nonsense. Look at all the pleasure drives, loaves of bread put in plastic carry bags, misused recycling bins, lights on at 1pm, all over the country. Petty little things yes but they all add up. How much prosperity as a nation do we need? We've gotten this far on an orgy of overconsumption and overpackaging, and now it's time to put the brakes on just a teeny little bit. We don't even need to slow down, just accelerate slightly less.

And the tax can go to infrastructure projects, renewable energy, replacing the jobs that thew doomsayers are convinced will be lost and building the public transport everyone agrees they cannot possibly lose. I have no idea why Labor hasn't gone down this road. If everyone is going to hate you anyway, why the caution? why not take steps to really make a difference?

Too bad if you're sick of all this - the media blitz is in full swing. Sadly when it comes to the future of the planet, it seems many people's first thought is "how will it affect me?". The Prime Minister is looking to assure, and Abbott to terrify, "Australian families". How do you get to be one of these families, I wonder? As a mother of almost-one, I don't have (nor do I intend to) the mandatory three kids you need for the Murdoch press to seek your opinion on this issue. DH doesn't drive a ute or work in a trade, we don't have a mortgage, I'm not and won't be a stay-at-home mother, and of course we don't live in a marginal seat (actually we do live in a marginal seat. But the margin is between Greens and Labor). Both the major party politicians and the press only care about a certain type of family. But that's nothing new.

I think Mungo MacCallum has said it best so far - "the primary objective - the great moral, political and economic challenge of our times - is to be all but submerged in an indiscriminate pandering to the greed and self-interest of as many people as possible." But we'll see if the government can pull this off. They've got two years, if they don't give in to Abbott's megalomanic demands for another election. I guess it's a start.

Of Cows and Climate (or, Only Our Jobs Matter).

2011-07-07T10:25:00.001+10:00

Those who dig animal abuse can crack open the finest sparkling wine - live animal exports to Indonesia have recommenced! (I know they wouldn't drink champagne - they're all about Australian jobs). The live export trade, halted after May's Four Corners report highlighting abuses in Indonesian abattoirs, was suddenly on again last night thanks to the Gillard government caving into pressure from industry lobby groups - without anything actually changing in terms of animal welfare. Cows in their death agonies just don't speak as loudly as $300 million. WA Premier Colin Barnett has echoed sentiments frequently expressed about the trade, that whilst "something needed to be done" on this issue, a ban was going too far. I'd like to know what they would have liked the Federal government to have done - given the Indonesians stern glances? Made tut-tutting noises? No, the ban was the right thing to do, and I admired the government for it, and am disappointed but not surprised that Gillard et al have given in to pressures from industry at the sake of humanity yet again.

The eternal cry when these situations happen is "what about the jobs that will be lost?". The cries rise to unbearable shrieks when the issue of a carbon tax - let alone, god forbid, scaling back of the coal industry - arises. Right wingers are terribly concerned about jobs, you see. Disdaining education as they do, any thoughts of retraining are summarily dismissed - "what are these poor blokes who've worked in forestry/mining/slaughterhouses all their lives supposed to do?". Jobs must be preserved at all costs - I'm sure they'd kick whaling off again if they thought they'd get away with it.

Yet funnily enough their compassion only stretches so far. They only care about jobs for people like them. During the GFC, when approximately 100,000 Australians lost their jobs (I was one of them) the chorus from the right was strangely silent. These were professional jobs you see, city dwellers (shock horror!) - not people they knew. There was no compassion for the bankers, the accountants, the advertising executives. They decried the bailouts and stimulus spending which prevented the economy from crashing down in a steaming heap. But now, well, cows and carbon levels can go to hell.

~~~~~

I was disturbed recently to read that apparently, the Greens want to tattoo the foreheads of, if not actually gas, climate change deniers. My feelings were hurt - I'm a Greens member, and I've been to meetings, and no one mentioned these policies to me. Why had I been left out of things again? A little digging however revealed what's actually going on - they were referring to this column by Richard Glover regarding the tattoos, and Jill Spinger's piece in the Herald Sun about the gassing. How very odd. Now it seems anything a supporter of a carbon tax writes in jest is official Greens policy. Now, from Ms Springer I don't know. But Richard Glover doesn't even vote Greens (though I enjoy his writing nevertheless). He's not employed as a journalist by the SMH - his weekly column appears not in the News section, but in the arts/entertainment lift out Spectrum, for goodness sake. All this should have tipped readers off that Mr Glover perhaps wasn't being entirely serious, but no. And he was subsequently the target of death threats. It must be very sad to have no sense of humour or perspective. Or Maybe right wingers just hate all life, except their own. I don't know.

Not Welcome Anymore

2011-07-04T14:09:00.002+10:00

Oh, Bob Ellis. And to think I loved you once.

Ellis is truly of Labor's old guard, with his legacy of eloquent humanistic writings about the inner workings of that party and Australian politics. However, he hasn't been coping in recent years with the decline in the relevance of the Australian Labor Party, producing increasingly disjointed and even offensive pieces in his blog on ABC's The Drum. Today however he has outdone himself, with this disturbing piece on accusations of rape made against political figures. It's all feminists' fault, complains Ellis, that great liberal and left leaning political figures are brought down by these mud-slinging woman. Feminism is killing the left.

There's so many things wrong here, from Ellis' apologia for rape - he never acknowledges the complicity or illegality of his heroes' actions - to his assessment of the political potential of some of his touted victims. The former far outweighs the latter in gravity, of course. But I'm particularly incensed by Ellis' view of women in political situations. Women are not a part of the left movement, not human beings of equal value; they are a distraction from men's real work. Ellis may be an anachronism in his views on this, but he's not a rare one; it's a sentiment frequently expressed in blogs and writings - there are "people", and then there are "women". Two separate things. Women are a sideline from the real action, the important men's business. In Ellis' worldview, feminism is not the vital part of progressive that I dearly believe it to be; it is at war with it. Ellis has written beautifully on human rights; apparently to him women's rights are not human rights, women's rights are at odds with the greater good of humanity.

This is where the rush to blame the woman in political scandals springs from. In his heart Ellis believes that women have no business messing around in politics. They should keep to the sides and keep their mouths shut. His views aren't welcome in this society any more, and I hope (though don't entirely expect) to see him lose his position with the Drum as a result. It's kind of heartbreaking to see such things thought, said and written down, and from someone I once greatly admired (and personally signed copies of whose books I have on my shelf) nevertheless.

~~~~~

Just a quick word about our new poll question. I highly admire the work of the Anti-Bogan, who exposes the racist, misogynistic and homophobic things said on Facebook and puts them on the public record. By definition your average racist isn't very bright, and a lot of people saying these things list their employment details along with their statements about how all Aussie they are and how great the Nazis were (we fought the Nazis. They lost). It so happens that sometimes these statements are brought to the attention of said employers, and people have lost their jobs as a result. So, I'm asking if you think this is okay. Should people be fired for statements made on Facebook - they may be the support of their family but that doesn't excuse breaking the law, or are they entitled to their views away from work - bigotry's awful and all, but not worth losing your job over? Voting closes on Saturday...

(Very) Trying To Conceive

2011-07-03T12:45:00.001+10:00

From time to time now, I'll get a familiar twinge in my lower abdomen and think "oh, it's that time of the month ladies look so forward to". It's only when I try to head for the bathroom and am confounded by my massively pregnant abdomen that I realise no, I don't have my period. The confusion even after all this time is understandable though when you spent most of a year Trying To Conceive (TTC).

Because it involves sex (but not the careless, abandoned, sexy kind), and temperatures and charts, and hoping for something that could happen tomorrow or may not happen at all - you just don't know - TTC isn't something that people talk about much. I can't even imagine the heartache that comes with the decision to try IVF, or the agony of deciding not to do it when you want a child. I'm talking though about the bog-standard TTC, which you must try for at least a year at my age before accessing any sort of professional help. A year isn't a long time to try, you're told. I know it's true - it certainly seems so now, and churlish to complain when you know of women on their fourth year or trying - but it seemed so at the time.

Someone said that in a way, each month of unsuccessful TTC is like losing a 4-week pregnancy (as you're counted as about 4 weeks pregnant by the time you miss a period and get that elusive positive pregnancy test - the BFP of your dreams). It's true. A year isn't very long, but you don't know it will only be a year. Your body doesn't stick out a little flag saying "ok, you're menstruating this month, but chin up - just three more of these to go then you'll be knocked up, I promise!". Especially not when you've been using contraceptives for fifteen years trying not to get pregnant. Especially not when, in your youth, you had a different result without trying, and now you desperately want it to happen and it's not, you blame your actions back in those days. You ask yourself, is this some divine punishment from a god I don't believe in? Have I rendered myself infertile through my debauched lifestyle? Is there only so much vodka one can consume before you pickle your eggs?

Every month is a roller coaster. You start off with a sense of optimism, hope and saucy underwear, getting down to business at just the right, carefully determined through temperature charting, times in order to increase your chances of conception. Then there's the dreaded, anticipated two week wait. You might have been lucky this month - you don't know. As the days progress every little symptom is analysed - do I feel sick today? Need to pee more often? Am I a little tender? (Measuring mood swings isn't really an option if you're a psycho hose beast like myself). I would mostly refrain from drinking during this time, adding to the heightened sense of unreality (although it was good preparation for things to come).

Then the dreaded cramps, and blood, and you know you've failed this month. (I nearly wrote AF, or Aunt Flo - hanging around on parenting forums makes use of cutesy euphemisms seem natural and not like a 1950s textbook for young ladies). What did we do wrong? Was it that day I was too tired? Catching the egg comes to seem like using a Skill Tester machine. There's tears, and drinking to console yourself, and you resolve next month to chart your temperatures more carefully, and enjoy your partner's company in that special way more often, whatever it takes.

After a while you'll try anything. By that last month - and our last month trying before we sought medical help - DH and I were both on pre-conception vitamins; I was taking ginseng, avoiding ibuprofen, and not drinking ice water on the advice of a Chinese medicine practitioner; and we followed a little scheme called the SMEP (too much information even for this post - Google if you must).

I've heard complaints from those who've been through the IVF process that first-person account books written about the experience, as detailed and honest as they may be, always have a joyous ending; the author photo on the back cover with a smiling toddler, the successful cycle when all hope seemed lost. No one wants to finance the book deal where things end with "it didn't work, and we couldn't go on, and we have to somehow get on with our lives". I resolved that if it came to it, I would damn well try to get my story published if it didn't have the happy ending, the last page recounting the sound of the cry in the delivery ward. It hasn't come to that. We've gotten our result, or nearly there anyway; I've the stretch marks and SPD and waking through the night as the countdown to birth is measured by a reassuring yet terrifying "not long now!" by well meaning onlookers. But I know nothing in my life will ever cause such uncertainty and fear and exhilaration and despair as the TTC journey. My heart goes out to those who were on this journey with me, and are still there. It's an extraordinary time, in good and bad ways.

Happy Balance of Power Day!

2011-07-01T10:32:00.002+10:00

"I for one welcome our new Greens overlords. I'd like to remind them that as a tweeter, I could round up others to toil in their tofu mines." - Twitter user citizen_cam

Well, Australia's problems are solved; today the Greens take the balance of power in the Senate. Alternatively, if you listen to the loony right, the sky will fall in (it hasn't yet, but it's not 11am yet) and this will "ruin our once great nation" (so many things have happened to "ruin our once great nation" according to conservatives, that it's a wonder that there's anything left of a functioning democracy at all - which they seem bent on destroying anyway). The Herald Sun have already gotten in on the doomsaying in unintentionally amusing ways.

What It All Means is not that the Greens are running the country. However, the Government won't be able to pass legislation through the Senate without Greens approval, if the Opposition tries to block said legislation. Hopefully this will see some real, effective measures in improving environmental and social justice measures passed through parliament. Those of us on the Greens side of politics can only shake our heads and laugh ruefully when it's claimed that the Greens and Labor are in some sort of alliance. The evidence speaks for itself; does anyone honestly think the Greens are in favour of offshore asylum seeker processing, let alone the cruel, expensive and inhumane "Malaysian solution"? The ALP has taken Greens support for granted for too long, even as they clamour to present the electorate with the smiling face of Howard Lite. Now we're in a powerful bargaining position in our own right, I'm cautiously optimistic this will come to an end.

So who are our new "Greens Overlords"?

Richard Di Natale - a former GP and Drug and Alcohol clinician from Geelong. He's worked in India on HIV prevention among drug users and has two Masters degrees in health.
Lee Rhiannon - former member of the NSW Legislative Council, journalist, zoologist and founder of the Coalition for Gun Control.
Larissa Waters - an environmental lawyer from Queensland.
Penny Wright - a solicitor and mediator from SA. She's worked as a Dispute Resolution Practitioner with Relationships Australia and is a former campaigner for human rights and the environment.

None of the new senators have a particularly high public profile, with the exception of Lee Rhiannon - or as she's often referred to, the controversial Lee Rhiannon. Ms Rhiannon has acquired something of a national profile in recent times for, along with the NSW Greens and in conflict with the national Greens, supporting the Israeli BDS boycott. This puts her at odds with Bob Brown, whom she has been touted as a possible successor to. Whilst I'm sure those who seek to discredit the Greens will try to turn this into "internal warfare threatening to tear the Greens apart", it's nothing of the sort and some disagreement can be a good thing. As much as we all adore Bob Brown, it doesn't benefit anyone for the Greens to be a personality cult. A true, functioning political party nurtures future leaders and accepts differences in opinion. We need to face the reality that one day, Brown will no longer be leader, and if we're to build a sustainable future we need to be expanding our horizons now. (It does seem like blasphemy to say this, though).

So I'm looking forward to seeing what transpires over the next few months. As well as ending offshore processing and introduction of a carbon tax, I'd like to see the banning of open-toed bootie shoes and TV ads containing the phrase "as a mum...". Hey, I said I was optimistic.

Bring On The Nanny State!

2011-06-30T11:08:00.001+10:00

My, the Australian Hotels Association are a pessimistic bunch. Whether it's anti-smoking laws, or gambling restrictions, or shorter trading hours, they're completely convinced that the next "draconian" Government measure imposed on them will cause the entire industry to collapse, killing local nightlife and putting lots of "ordinary Australians" out of work. Now, in the past I have written opposing alcohol trading restrictions in Newcastle, but I believed and still do, that Newcastle is a special case. The AHA however is the eternal boy who cried wolf on these issues, and in their latest missive, they've gone a little further than is comfortable.

Claiming that it's partly in jest, the NSW President of the AHA, Scott Leach, has penned a missive decrying the nanny state in Australia. He's angry about regulations restricting pub trade and alcohol consumption, claiming that "In the United States citizens can tote guns, choose not to wear seatbelts and they allow kids as young as 16 to drive huge petrol guzzlers. Here we can’t water the lawn without the government telling us when, how and with what." (and that's working out very well for them), in comparison to Australia. Mr Leach envisions a nation where tourists can camp on the beach, pubs can serve unlimited drinks and patrons can drive home afterwards.

My sympathy runs out here. See, I love rules. When I hear that chewing gum is illegal in Singapore, I think "Gosh, we could do with some of that here" (without the death penalty part, however). Pretty much everyone loves the rules when it comes to protecting their own way of life - I'm sure there are those on talkback radio today agreeing heartily that the "do gooders" have gone too far who also decry the behaviour of alcohol fuelled yobs. Mr Leach wouldn't want the backpackers camping in his backyards. Well, as a socialist I think public property is everyone's responsibility - that's why I'd love to see transit officers actually fine people who put their feet on train seats, security guards to prevent morons taking prams on escalators, any rules possible to stop Sydney more closely resembling lower George St at 3am. And let's have a law to stop idiots whining about nanny states, then suing when the laws they decried fail to protect them from their own stupidity.

Anyway, I'm off to pick all the flowers in Scott Leach's garden. He won't mind, surely - he's the guy who wants to get rid of all the petty rules.

Whatever Happened To My Friends?

2011-06-28T13:46:00.007+10:00

The very clever folk over at Cracked recently published a piece on the upsides of turning 30. It's true, there are several. For me, apart from my personal circumstances improving immesurably, there's also that pretty much no one in customer service intimidates me anymore and I can tell just by looking at bras if they're my size. But Cracked may be a little off. You no longer have to do many of the things you were once obliged to, like go mountain climbing or attend foreign film festivals, because the people who made you do them are gone. Or to put it another way; you lose nearly all your friends. I'm not entirely sure that it is a good thing.

One thing that got me through my horrid twenties was the support of a close knit group of supportive friends. Where the hell are these people now? Sometimes there have been falling-outs, in other cases driftings away. Lifestyles have diverged, people have grown up and moved on. Sure, I no longer have to sit through six-hour long karaoke competitions to "show support". But there's also little point in planning a real birthday party. Who'd come?

That's life though, and it's important to try to make new friends. That's not going so well either. Well, I can be friendly with people. But trying to make social arrangements, forget it. We have one of two scenarios: I ask someone if they want to do something. Great, they say, I'll let you know a good time. Then you never hear from them until you next run into them and make more tentative plans to try out that new Japanese place, that never come to fruition.

Even worse is when someone does commit to doing something, then cancels an hour or two before. They didn't realise they were double booked, so sorry. Or they're not in the mood. I wouldn't mind but why am I always the one that gets shafted if things have to be cancelled? Surely an event pre-booked two months ago when I've already paid your deposit is of more import than a hair appointment?

The funny thing is, if you mention this phenomenon to a group, everyone smiles and nods and agrees the exact same thing happens to them. This gives me hope that it's not just me, and I needn't splash out on the extra-strength deodorant just yet. But if you suggest catching up with any of these people who understand all about what it's like, the same thing happens...

It's actually the people with kids who I'm finding a bit more socially reliable at the moment. But I'm still feeling a bit hurt and wary, so DH and I are not making any more social arrangements for some time to come. We have each other, and an even better solution; we make our own people now. I told my unborn child last night, "You! You'll be my friend. I'm never going to let you go." I'm sure the frantic kicking and squirming was the baby showing its excitement...

No One Special

2011-06-25T11:10:00.001+10:00

Like everyone else, I've been quite taken with Go Back To Where You Came From, which screened on SBS this past week. Giving six "ordinary Australians" (five of whom held distinctly anti-refugee views prior to filming) a chance to experience a refugee's journey to Australia in reverse, it made compelling viewing.

It wasn't perfect, sure. The right wingers came rushing to find fault. Most prominent of this brigade was Paul Sheehan in the Fairfax press. Unlike, say, a Bolt or an Akerman, Sheehan writes for people who are generally awake and facing the correct way in their chairs, but he is still an ideologue. Sheehan paints those opposing asylum seekers as the persecuted minority, victims of the "progressive argument about boat people" - the thoughtful few bravely resisting the left-wing onslaught. His comments about the show's methodology are largely meaningless - describing the moment where the participants believed their boat was sinking as an "obvious charade", though if it wasn't obvious to the participants why should it be so to the home viewer?

But it's the obvious falsities in Sheehan's article that rankle. He disputes the statistic that 1% of the world's refugees are resettled by the UN without evidence, claims the asylum seeker debate is about border control not race, and makes the ludicrous statement that "Much to the chagrin of the progressive side of politics, this argument is the one that has carried the day in Australia. After 15 years of being bashed over the head, especially by the ABC and SBS, the public has not budged." I nearly choked on my soy decaf latte. Asylum seekers barely figured as a political issue in the modern political era prior to 2001, when the Howard government rushed to exploit people's fears in the wake of the Tampa issue. With 9/11 occurring shortly thereafter and fear of Muslims enshrined in the culture, the boat people issue was here to stay, gleefully exploited by both major political parties. Neither party has pointed out the facts on asylum seekers - that the numbers are tiny, it's an issue that has no effect whatsoever on the vast numbers of Australian residents, who will never come into contact with a refugee, that it makes a handy distraction from issues of national import. You'll hardly hear this from the commercial radio and TV networks either, still a major source of news for large numbers of people. So much for being bashed over the head with the progressive views - Sheehan destroys any credibility he may have had with such nonsense.

Sadly you weren't given most of these facts from the show either. An anti-asylum seeker view could be maintained after a careful viewing. The series was light on detail - especially in explaining the legal process by which one becomes a refugee. There was little mention of the fact that it's not illegal to arrive in Australia seeking asylum, and none at all of the fact that in many countries asylum seekers arrive from, there's no queue to jump, no legal way to apply for refugee status in Australia. Go Back To Where You Came From did little to break down the divide in people's minds between "good" (patiently waited their turn in refugee camps) and "bad" (those queue-jumping boat people) asylum seekers. Several participants who went into filming despising all asylum seekers came from the experience with empathy for "genuine refugees", but still railing against the queue jumpers.

A result of the show the producers doubtless did not intend was the wave of hatred against participant Raquel, a young woman from western Sydney who freely admitted to racist views prior to filming. From her limited world view and education, her reaction to the problems she saw was that it's not her problem, she's Australian and she deserves better. I'm not jumping on the Raquel-bashing bandwagon - her view is not uncommon, whether it's expressed outright ("I'm Australian, I don't want to use a hole in the ground toilet, I'm not used to it") or less overtly ("stop foreign aid, we need to look after our own first"). It may be the hardest attitude to budge, precisely because there's no good answer to the question - what the hell makes us so special?

Why should an accident of birth, which has meant we were born white in a rich country, entitle us to a lifetime of special privileges? Aren't we privileged enough to begin with? Raquel has apparently never worked, so never paid taxes apart from the GST. Taking into account her education and healthcare, financially she's a liability to Australia not an asset. There's many others like her - you only have to visit The Anti-Bogan to see the number of unemployed racists. They do need help - long term help to overcome generational poverty. We're a rich country and we can afford that and to "help foreigners". But why is someone accorded special priviliges on the basis of their birth location? We can't help everyone, it's true. But leaving aside the notion that money spent helping refugees is somehow depriving real Australians, the smug self-righteousness of the "this is our country" brigade in nauseating. Yes, it's your country and what have you done to deserve it? A person is measured by their character not by their nationality. We're not better than anyone else because we are Australian, or Western, or white. I sat on Thursday night explaining to my unborn child that they are special because they have parents and an extended family that love them very much, and because of all the amazing things they will achieve (starting with being happy, I hope). But as far as being a white child born in a rich country, and all the privileges that will bring - to never forget that that's just luck, and he or she has an obligation to use that luck to help educate and improve the lives of others not so fortunate. In that sense, our baby is no one special. It's who they grow up to be that will set them apart, not who they were born.

I Like The Way You Move

2011-06-23T14:00:00.001+10:00

I've always been slightly irritated by people who take no notice of a cause until it directly affects them. There's nothing like losing your kids in some sufficiently unusual way to turn the apathetic into raging crusaders. I wouldn't mind, I just get ticked off by those who berate others for their apathy.

Being a bleeding-heart do-gooder type, I've always professed empathy for those facing accessibility issues and disabilities. But I hadn't paid too much attention to what it all really meant until relatively recently, when as a result of pregnancy I developed a pretty serious accessibility issue myself. I'm fine and the baby is fine, but in a rare-ish complication I've got too much of a hormone that relaxes the pelvis for birth. My pelvis is so relaxed in fact that the ligaments can't really hold the bones in place, and even wearing a tight pelvic brace I can only walk very short distances before I'm in a whole heap of pain. Stairs, standing much, pushing stuff (supermarket trolley, vacuum etc) and carrying anything heavier than a Stephen King paperback are out, too. I've been given a temporary but sudden entry into the world of the disabled.

Now, lest it be thought I'm looking for sympathy for myself here; I'm not - this is a temporary problem which, as long as I'm careful, will fix itself up soon after giving birth, and could perhaps be said to be self-inflicted (though after resigning myself to nausea and not drinking, possible ligament issues didn't seem that big a deal). But I've been given a small insight into the lifelong issues many people face, and will be taking up accessibility as one of my pet causes.

You're constantly having to explain yourself, for one thing. I've heard of people who can walk short distances being berated for using the disability parking spots they are entitled to by bystanders who think "disabled" means "spinal injury, unable to walk at all". We recently made a short trip to Melbourne, booked before my problem became severe. I adore Melbourne's art galleries and museums, and we decided that rather than miss these, I'd use one of the wheelchairs such establishments usually have for loan.

If you've ever wanted to be given strange looks, just try walking into a museum foyer - even if that walk is a pained shuffle - then climbing into a wheelchair. Or how about leaving the wheelchair outside the door of the bathrooms whilst you go inside (I think I heard someone mutter once "pregnancy is not a disability", which I chose to ignore). And it's true - you are treated like a piece of furniture when you're in a wheelchair (unless you're getting quizzical, "what's wrong with her?" glances). No one would make eye contact with me, even when I was actually talking to them. Lifts are usually tucked out of the way, entrances off to the side, you're in everyone's way.

I felt really guilty about making use of any help I needed, even when trying to remain ambulatory. Finding it too hard to juggle taking on and off my support belt in regular toilets, I began using the accessible toilets, and got a heap of dirty looks for that as well (sometimes from women with small children who seem to think that accessible bathrooms were for their benefit - although maybe I'm guilty of snap judgements myself here). Passengers requiring special boarding assistance on the plane? Forget it, I'd hardly gotten to my feet after the announcement before the airline threw open general boarding, forcing me to wait till the stampeding line had cleared. Try hailing a taxi out the front of most airports or even shopping centres. See any seats? And if there are they're usually covered in people's shopping.

Being heavily pregnant, disability issue aside, it's still a struggle. Yes, there are a couple of free seats on the bus, but they're up the back; I shouldn't have to announce my condition or shuffle past able-bodied people, risking my safety and severe pain, to get to them whilst you pretend you don't see me, plonked in seats adorned with the sign "please vacate this seat when required by those with mobility issues".

Back in NSW, it almost seems easier to stay home than go out and deal with all this. Double decker trains means there's only a small number of seats near the door of each carriage I can use, and again they're usually full. Public transport is geared towards the needs of commuters - RPA, located less than 5km from the Sydney CBD and one of the oldest and busiest hospitals in NSW, is serviced by one infrequent and unreliable bus route. Getting in to, out of, and around supermarkets is a nightmare.

Anyway, I've had to quit work, and I'm staring down several long and uncomfortable housebound weeks. Guess I should get started on emailing some MPs. It's such an invisible issue, and for me it will go away soon. But there are a lot of people out there facing this stuff every day, and it's taken this much to open my eyes.

The Greatest Schmo on Earth

2011-06-21T11:34:00.003+10:00

Anyone throwing a party to mark the one-year anniversary of the dumping of Kevin Rudd as PM? We're not, but I wondered if anyone else was. The man himself was planning a knees-up, but "postponed" the thing after too many questions were raised. I'm not surprised he wants to celebrate, though - his dastardly plan is coming along nicely.

The government is in a bit of a state at the moment. Their poll numbers are terrible, nothing they propose goes down well, and Julia Gillard is held in almost universal contempt. Rudd is outpolling her 2 to 1 as preferred Labor leader, people viewing the Rudd leadership as the good old days. And why not? This is Rudd's master plan, I suspect; sail along on the popular early days of the Labor government, stand aside when the poll numbers started to fall, then step back in as party saviour when all hope seems lost and lead in triumph to the next election. Rudd knows very well that as little support as he has from his colleagues - especially Labor backbenchers - he is unfathomably popular with the public. It was therefore easy enough to manipulate the party to dump him, then bide his time in foreign affairs, waiting to sail back in when the time is right. It's too soon to tell if that time is now, but Labor must know that if they go to the 2013 election as things stand now, they'll be wiped out for another few terms. When and if Rudd makes his move in light of this will be interesting to see.

Across the benches in the Opposition, it wouldn't surprise me if Malcolm Turnbull is doing something similar, waiting for Tony Abbott to finally commit the one electoral sin that leads to his dumping. It might take a while longer though - after such a rich history of lies, spin, hypocrisy and malfeasance, the public has low expectations of Mr Abbott.

Showing that he cares nothing for the process of representative democracy, let alone for the "taxpayer dollars" he's always harping about, Abbott has called for a plebiscite on the carbon tax, setting himself up as man of the people by letting the people have their say on a carbon tax. Even a talkback radio caller who thinks a chilly winter disproves climate change should be able to work out why this is a bad idea. For a start it will be expensive - probably around the $70 million mark. Also, we elect governments to make decisions for us. If there was a plebiscite (or fresh election) every time the government did something we didn't all agree with; well that's mob rule, not democracy. We'd never get anything done. Should Gillard have gone to the polls with a carbon tax on the agenda, as Howard did with the GST in 1998? Sure. And let's not forget Howard lost the popular vote in that election (but won on seats) - hardly a ringing endorsement of a plan he went ahead with anyway, and which even I'll admit didn't work out so badly in the end. Just possibly the doomsayers are wrong on the carbon tax as well?

For all that, plebiscites, unlike a referendum to change the Constitution, are not legally binding. What happens if there is a result Abbott doesn't like? What's to stop him just ignoring the damn thing? He's in Opposition anyway, as he chooses to forget. There's nothing he can do to change or make any laws. Hope has come, however, from unexpected quarters. After six nonsensical years, Stephen Fielding has suddenly made us think he might be missed, by canning the plebiscite as a political stunt. Abbott's been in favour of a carbon tax before; now he sees some political mileage out of this, and thinking the result of the last election entitles him to some co-Prime Minister status, he'll keep pulling this poor loser crap till Turnbull finally puts us out of our misery. Abbott, you're the greatest schmo on Earth. Accept your defeat and shut the hell up.

Death of a (Bookstore) Salesman

2011-06-16T12:02:00.000+10:00

Growing up, we never had a bookcase in the house. The children were taken to the library, but adults reading as a leisure activity never seemed to rate. So of course we didn't really go to bookstores either. The realm of the bookshop was closed to me till about age twelve, when I started to go to the mall by myself. My goodness...what a world was opened to me. I didn't care much for clothing stores, and discovery of real music was still about a year away (when I listened to Nevermind in it's entirety on a friend's Walkman on a school trip to Sydney...another story!) but book shops set my imagination on fire. Libraries never had that effect on me and I don't know why. It wasn't the stories in the books that stirred me. It was the possibility that one day, just maybe, I would walk into a bookstore and see a book about me, or written by me, on the shelf. I visualised the blurb, my name in embossed metallic type, the author photo. I knew what I was put on this Earth to do - write the book, or live the life worthy of having a book written about. I set myself to the task with gusto, filling endless stacks of exercise books and allowing myself nearly twenty years of stupid mistakes as "experiences" for future biographers to pore over. Who knows how things might have turned out differently if not for this formative influence? I vowed that one day I would have a house with walls lined with books; and I have.

So it was with disappointment I read of yet more bookstore closures, with Angus and Robertson to shut another 42 branches this week. We may soon see the saddest of phenomena - the mall with no bookstore. It's easy to sneer at the Westfields of the world - god knows in the inner west we do it all the time and sniff that we only shop at independent booksellers - but the truth is that for kids in the outer suburbs they're all they have. On teenage trips to Sydney, I would always head for George St Dymocks, which would practically send me into sensory overload (thank God it at least is still there) - Borders at the time was unknown and would have had an even more rapturous effect on me, it too has since gone down the tube - but normally it was the suburban Angus and Robertson or Collins Booksellers (remember them?) that satiated my book lust.

Predictably the death of the bookstore has been blamed on online bookselling. Yeah, well I dunno. Books in Australia are astonishingly expensive, I will admit, often more than twice the price of importing from overseas even when one allows for postage fees. But it's just not the same. Buying books online, you often need to know what you're looking for, and it just doesn't have that delicious sense of possiblity that comes from visiting an actual bookshop. I love to browse through the design section at Kinokuniya, thinking I might like to buy all those books or none of them, imbued with creativity and inspiration for my own visual journal. When I went to buy a book I particularly desired online later - at less than half the price the store charged - the magic was, somehow, gone.

Then there's the e-book. Maybe it's a generational thing, and I'm just too damn old to understand. Maybe a generation of future writers are getting fired up by the Kindle. But for me it's just lacking something. There's something about the aesthetic beauty of shelves of shiny books in a bookstore, about opening up a crisp new volume, turning the undisturbed pages, the new-book smell, that electronic letters on a glowing rectangle can never hope to match.

It's a little death, one of many in modern society - small record shops went a few years back - but I can't help but be sad the suburban bookstore is going. I won't get to introduce my kids to them. Sadder still of course is the thought of losing a future generation of potential writers who, robbed of inspiration, will put away their journals and focus on schoolwork, get into decent courses at uni, and wind up with successful careers in commerce and industry. Depresses the hell out of me.

Why Haven't We Won the War on Terror Yet?

2011-06-12T20:50:00.000+10:00

So it seems another al Qaeda bigwig has been killed. Fazul Abdullah Mohammed, reuptedly head of al Qaeda in Africa, was shot at a checkpoint on the outskirts of Mogadishu last week. He sounds like a dastardly piece of work, coordinating the US Embassy bombings in 1998. Mohammed is the latest in a string of terrorist high-ups killed recently, including of course Osama bin Laden. Meanwhile, the list of Australian soldiers killed in Afghanistan continues to grow depressingly.

When will it all be over? How many al Qaeda leaders need to be killed to topple the house of terrorist cards? Where is the turning point, when President Obama - or his successor - climbs a podium in front of cheering soldiers and announces "today is a great day. The enemy has been destroyed. As we reflect on our sacrifices, we can look forward to our future - the War on Terror is over, we have won." Will that moment ever come? Is there even a plan, a list, an agreed-to set of conditions for victory to be declared?

Or, in light of the current U.S. recession, is the military industrial complex all that's keeping their economy from collapsing in a steaming heap? Does Obama plan to keep pushing this crap uphill till it's not his problem anymore? Even worse than all that...does no one have a clue what to do? I rather fear they don't.

Cheers and Jeers - On Certain Issues of Import

2011-06-11T10:28:00.002+10:00

Bill O'Reilly has his Pinheads and Patriots segment. Stephen Colbert has Tip of the Hat, Wag of the Finger. Maybe I need similar categories for the people I do and don't agree with - Darlings and Dunces perhaps? Champions and Cockheads? Anyway, I've got one of each today - and at least half that number are not whom I might have expected.

From the "and the horse you rode in on" files, Anglican Archbishop of Sydney Peter Jensen has gotten himself in the papers again, declaring that same-sex marriage is a slippery slope that will lead to legalisation of polygamy and incest.

Assuming Jensen was sitting upright in his chair when he wrote this (by no means a guarantee), it should give us all hope. He's certainly not the first person to express such a sentiment, and statements like this show how desperate the Homophobes for Marriage brigade has become. They insult everyone. The community can cope with lots of changes - including the definition of marriage changing from a husband having legal possession of his wife to an equal partnership (although traces of the old custom still remain in archaic customs such as Mr and Mrs His Surname, it's balanced by marriages like mine, where the pendulum may have swung too far in the opposite direction). But apparently no one can handle same sex marriage.

Aren't we supposed to have equality between the sexes?! If men and women are truly equal, why do you need one of each of them for a marriage? Someone to take the kids to playgroup and someone who knows how to tune in a HD TV perhaps? In my house DH will do the kid stuff and I'm the one who knows how things work. Unless we're still forcing people into codified gender roles, a marriage can work just fine without needing one person of each gender. Not in Jensen's world, though - I'm guessing the man doesn't do an equal share of the housework. Polygamy and incest - well, at least he's not pushing the marriage to dogs line again.

~~~~~

On the other side of the coin, I never expected to be retweeting anything Russell Crowe had to say. Russell Crowe published a series of anti-circumcision tweets in his own inimitable style, railing against the practice: "Circumcision is barbaric and stupid. Who are you to correct nature? Is it real that GOD requires a donation of foreskin? Babies are perfect" and invoking readers who do not agree to unfollow him and and make their departure in an orderly fashion (or to f**k off, for those with less delicate sensibilities). The tweets have since been taken down, replaced by several apologies of sorts: "wasn't intending offense, certainly wasn't intending to provide fodder for lazy journalists. I can't apologize for my heartfelt belief". This isn't really surprising; as soon as I saw the tweets I was waiting for the "Russell Crowe's Bizarre Anti-Circumcision Rant" headlines. Sure enough, he has been attacked in the press as an anti-Semite. I don't get it. What's anti-Semitic about stating that Jewish boys deserve the same protect from painful lifelong procedures that remove healthy, necessary parts of their bodies, leaving them vulnerable to infection and complications, and reduce their sexual pleasure forever? But I really don't want to focus on Jewish circumcision here; there are still a terrifying number of people in the wider community who somehow, think this is okay.

There's a train of thought in the intactivist community that we need to take a "softly softly approach" towards the issue - "please don't circumcise, but if you do, we still respect your choice". I don't agree. The motivation behind going in gently, to pardon the pun, is that a forceful approach will turn people off. Well, it should. The whole issue should be viewed with revulsion by the community. We don't stand by and support people who, despite our best efforts, sexually abuse their children in any other way. These are not reasonable people here - they are people who defend their right to cut a child's genitals. Education is helpful, sure. There are people who refer to the procedure as a "snip" (actually, no, it's gouging, crushing and cutting large amounts of extremely sensitive flesh), or believe that it's cleaner (this is just nonsense. It's no coincidence that in most boys the foreskin naturally retracts at around the age of toilet training - till then, it's needed to protect the penis from urine and feces in the nappy). Many of these people can be brought around when presented with the facts. Sadly, some can't or won't. They deny the facts ("oh, my son's circ was nothing like any of the videos out there - it was a special painless procedure that has somehow gone completely undocumented") or they even come out and admit they don't care about the pain, risks and disfigurement - what they want ("parent's rights!") is somehow more important.

Considering what they are happy to do to their own children, it takes a brave person to speak out against these creeps. So whilst I'm disappointed that Crowe removed his tweets, I'm glad to see prominent figures speak out against this practice. We need more of it.

Real Jobs - The Fair Pay Rally

2011-06-09T13:06:00.002+10:00

Yesterday on a sunny but cold Sydney day, I headed along to Hyde Park for the ASU's National Day of Action on Fair Pay. Basically, the aim of the campaign is to bring wages on female dominated industries to par with those in male dominated industries, starting with community workers as a test case. Most community workers work in government-funded, independently run organisations - community NGOs - and our wages are far less than government employees or those with comparable skills and experience in other fields. For too many years, there's been a perception that community work is "women's work" and like other women's work, should be done for free, or very little. Now, no one gets into this field to make it rich. But we deserve just compensation.

I've not been feeling too crash hot lately, so I just figured I'd go to the park, show my support and leave, but I got caught up in the moment and ended up joining in the march along Macquarie St to the NSW Parliamentary offices in Governor Macquarie tower (my dear boss, if anyone got too close to bumping me, would act as a human shield and yell "pregnant lady coming through!"). It was such a positive atmosphere. There's some great pics from the day here thanks to Peter Boyle of Green Left Weekly, or alternatively here are a few not-so-great ones from my camera:

Heading off past St Mary's Cathedral...considering the historical religious context of community work, a rather apt setting.

Hey! Get out of the flower beds!

With Jamie Parker, Member for Balmain, who very politely, or at least in a manner befitting a true politician, pretended he remembered meeting me (from the NSW campaign) even though I could tell he didn't really. Fresh from his mammoth filibustering effort, David Shoebridge was there too. Says a lot about the Greens, who actually live up to their words on grassroots community involvement - I'm very proud to be part of this. Didn't see anyone from the other major parties, not even Carmel Tebbutt, who made such a to-do over her concern for the community in the lead up to the election. Oh, I'm not a particularly short woman - he's a very very tall man. Others get photographed with celebrities, I get my photo taken with politicians.

Marching down Macquarie St - parliament wasn't sitting, so we kept going. It's the symbolism, though.

At our final destination - outside the offices of state parliament. Apparently there was a flash mob at this stage - but my feet and all other parts had had enough by now, and I had to bow out.

The march ended on a slightly disconcerting note for me, finishing as it did right next to the office tower where I was a (flourish) account executive for two years. I used to be one of the bemused office workers we marched past yesterday, looking put out by the slight inconvenience of having to wait thirty seconds to cross the road to buy a $9 sandwich and perhaps even slightly thinking "get real jobs". I thought I had a real job. I thought my life was kind of meaningful. I guess it was - for all that I am a socialist, someone has to pay a few taxes to get some money into the income stream - but really. How is it just that someone who has client meetings over design specs earns $65,000 whilst someone who counsels sexual assault survivors at 5am Sunday, or helps refugees (the "real" kind) access medical treatment, or provides transport for the elderly without which they'd be housebound, earns $38,000? Which is how it is.

If you don't think this is okay, please go to the Pay Up website to learn more about how you can help. Fair Work Australia has given interim approval to the wage claim; we're now waiting for the final decision, and for governments to fund the claim. Queensland approved the wage claim some time ago; even the Liberal Government in WA has approved a 25% wage increase for community workers, which is great to see. It would be wonderful if we could get the same support in NSW - let's see how we go.

Why Are You Telling Me This?

2011-06-06T13:04:00.013+10:00

Pregnancy is gross. We all know this, yet everyone acts like it's some great secret. Browsing in bookstores for pregnancy books (I'm an old fashioned kinda lady who likes her advice in treeware form), every second book promises to reveal "the true secrets of pregnancy that no one else will tell you!". Basically every one of these secrets is that your bodily functions go to hell, and your body becomes an erupting morass from which emerges uncontrollable, unspeakable sights, sounds, smells and fluids. It gets rather depressing. It gets so that someone could tell you that with every step you take, the baby will kick all your internal organs out your backside and you'll need to manually shove them back in, and you'd believe it.

So yeah, I've been very thoroughly appraised of all the icky bits, and I'm finding out for myself what's true and what's just evil book editors going for shock value. Here are the actual things that no one told me:

That for surprising stretches of time I will forget I am am pregnant, and life feels normal;
That even after wanting this for years, and quite a long stretch of trying without luck and fearing it would never happen, there are moments of not forgetting when I wonder what the hell I've done and wish for an escape clause;
That I will stand in the supermarket with a basket containing an ultra-soft toothbrush, three bags of candy, a tub of super-sour Greek yoghurt and a packet of Poise lady-things, and realise with a sigh this is the new normal;
That you are not allowed to be pregnant in winter, not according to maternity wear manufacturers anyway;
The horror stories are not all true - no strangers have tried to touch my bump as yet, though that could be because of my sneering, snarling demeanour;
That there is always someone who is more organised and copes better than you, and some of the bile rising in your throat is jealousy, not pregnancy heartburn. Although, if you haven't realised that by this stage in your life, you probably weren't ready for motherhood anyway.

~~~~~

Also from the "perhaps you've said too much" department, the redoubtable Bob Katter has launched his own political party and has come out with a bang, declaring he doesn't have anything to do with Pauline Hanson or One Nation, despite Ms Hanson coming out in support of Katter. A case of the gentleman doth protest too much? Why would Katter want to be distancing himself from One Nation? The policies of the new party are nothing that Hanson wouldn't have felt comfortable with - small targets and fear, isolation and pessimism. Australia is screwed, the line runs, and we must cut ourselves off from the forces doing the screwing. No one's really worried about a rise of the new right, though. It's slightly hard to take Katter seriously - he has a reputation as a "maverick", in this case media shorthand for "lunatic, but libel laws prevent us from saying so". Even the Federal member for the North Queensland seat of Herbert, Ewan Jones, has proclaimed "I just reckon it's going to be funny to see Bob actually have to articulate and stick to a policy decision.". It will be funny - I'll be watching.

It's A Hard Life. Well, Sort Of.

2011-06-04T16:50:00.003+10:00

Reading this tweet caused me to feel something I never expected...pity for Barry O'Farrell. It's hard to imagine anything more tedious than the endless array of community and business events a politician has to attend. Just about every political staffer I've ever met expresses zero desire to stand for office themselves; a day that starts with breakfast radio, then a slog in parliament, followed by dinner in the car on the way to the Outer Suburban Succulent Gardener's Association Quarterly Dinner; then coming down from all that excitement to research for the next day's debate. The weekends involve a trip home to the electorate; further presentations, sports days, openings and shopping centre meet-and-greets, with maybe some time to see your family, providing you can remember who they are.

The NSW parliamentarians are having a particularly hard time of it right now. See, there are these awful new industrial relations laws on the table. Barry O'Farrell was elected on the grounds of being a jovial, every day sort of bloke; but now he and his crew are in power, he's revealed his right-wing Liberal colours by announcing new conditions for public servants which, among other things, would cap wage rises at 2.5% and remove the right of appeal to the Industrial Relations Commission. The Greens MPs have risen to the challenge, breaking records as the filibustered the bill. Ive seen David Shoebridge speak knowledgeably for twenty minutes about an obscure issue of local planning that wasn't even in his local area, but on Thursday night he outdid himself, speaking for five hours and fifty eight minutes on the bill. How many of us could speak that long about anything? Even on the subject of Sydney's trains, I'd be hard-pressed to make thirty minutes. Anyway the speech provided one of my all time favourite moments of political discourse - when Mr Shoebridge at one stage described the IR laws as "Draconian", Liberal MP Peter Phelps retorted "there are no dragons involved in the industrial relations situation of NSW" (it was very late. No such excuses for Sky News - that's not the NSW parliament).

Fellow Green John Kaye backed up on Friday, speaking for five hours, 53 minutes. Whilst my bladder winces at such verbosity, truthfully what they're doing is heroic. The Liberals enjoy a massive majority in the NSW lower house and have control of the upper house with the help of the Shooters and Fishers, not to mention the delightful Fred Nile, who's already trying push his anti-abortion agenda in return for support. The new government wants complete control of public sector industrial relations in NSW. No matter their majority, they cannot claim a "mandate" - they did not say a word about this in the lead up to the election. If this was a Labor government taking such a step, you couldn't turn on the TV news for the howls of "call another election!". These aren't complacent public servants we're speaking of, but nurses, teachers, police officers...you know, the people we can't get by without.

Anyway it looks like for all that, the legislation will pass. Over the next few years, the NSW people will come to learn that a kinder, gentler Liberal government is still a Liberal government. And hundreds of thousands of public servants will get screwed on their working conditions. True, it's a hard life for politicians. But they do have lots and lots of perks and lovely salaries as compensation. Some of them are genuinely good people. The rest...I dunno.

Kids and Politics: Should They Mix?

2011-06-02T12:05:00.004+10:00

Next week I'm dragging my helpless unborn child to yet another rally. Neither of us have much choice at this stage of the relationship. Already Pinky has had more involvement in politics than most people ever will; rallies, helping out with a campaign, leafleting and handing out how to vote cards, and being along to meet lots of the poobahs in the Greens - and I hope the picture with Bob Brown is something they'll be proud of one day.

There's a school of thought that it's just as unfair and manipulative to raise children with political beliefs as it is with religion - although the former is usually derided by people who have no trouble at all with the latter.

There's been much discussion, and derision, recently of a mother who declared that she was taking her 7 year old daughter to Slutwalk. Whilst much of the criticism came from those who just missed the point - not wanting their children thinking dressing like that is okay - others said they don't feel their child should be exposed to political concepts and women's rights issues at such a young age. Kids have no place at rallies and marches. I can understand this point of view, even though I don't agree with it.

For me, politics is something boring that happens in buildings in Canberra, or an annoying chore that must be dealt with once every three years (but for which you are rewarded with a sausage sizzle). It's something that affects every aspect of our lives, and if you refuse to engage, you're not a responsible citizen. Politics can be the greatest force for good, for social justice, that we have; by deriding politics or dismissing it as boring, people are allowing the triumph of free market capitalism, which isn't very nice to anybody who can't afford it.

So our child will grow up in an atmosphere of lefty political thought and discussion. We can't hide from them something that goes to the core of our beings. I will be taking our child to rallies and demonstrations and political fundraisers. Maybe not Slutwalk - that's the feminist in me, which has one or two problems with the event - but certainly many others. By isolating kids from politics, we breed adults who see it as a thing apart; boring and irrelevant. Kids should be brought up to take an interest in the issues and see them as relevant to their lives. Of course, there is the argument that I should expose my child to the "other" side of politics for a balanced view. I'm not so sure. Should I pop Alan Jones on the radio next to the cot? I don't want a three year old babbling about illegal immigrants or demanding there's an election every time something happens they don't like. Religion is different; I'd happily allow our child to attend a mosque, synagogue or church with friends, explaining that whilst we don't believe in these things, other people do. (SRE at school is a different matter; I don't want to have to explain that some things you learn at school are real, but others are not real; or at least some people think they're real but we don't).

But politics, well that's different. We want to raise our kid to be a good person. To me, believing asylum seekers should be locked up indefinitely; that power bills matter more than the future of the planet; that Australia is vital to the endless, aimless "war on terror" but irrelevant to global climate debate; that whether or not you can get married depends on your gender and that of your partner; and if you're poor it's your own damn fault and you need an ever-harder kick up the backside - well, those aren't the views of a good person. I can't bring up my child to believe these things. So we'll have our little inner-city leftist latte baby, and try to do the best we can.

And I Know Y'All Do

2011-05-31T11:30:00.002+10:00

To more serious matters, I'm sure you've all seen the horrifying images from Indonesian slaughterhouses of the abuse inflicted on Australian cattle sent there...can you please take a second to go to Ban Live Exports to voice your concerns and help end this practice? Of course, it is slightly sad that we all get so worked up over the fate of cattle leaving Australia for Indonesia on boats, and not the fate of humans treated like cattle on boats leaving Indonesia for Australia. But hey, it's something.

Because An ASW Can Never Have Too Many Blogs

2011-05-29T13:15:00.003+10:00

So here I am with another blog. After signing off on The Xander and Nico Pod last year, I thought I was done with prose blogging. What else was there to say? I'd lost my muse John Howard - that rage was always good for a post or two - was caught in a career crisis, and there's only so many times a lady can complain about shopping centre layouts without coming off as a little peculiar.

Times change.

It could be that I have a new muse - I am beginning to dislike Julia Gillard with a small drop of the venom I once had for Howard - or that my change of job direction and volunteer work on a political campaign has given me a new perspective on things. Maybe it's impending motherhood, or just that I can't bear having attention diverted from me for so long. Whatever the cause, the urge to write has return and I'm going to run with it.

I considered reviving the Pod, but things have moved on. Changing the name to the Xander and Nico and DH and Pinky and the Fish Pod would just be ridiculous and result in a URL so long people would get bored and wander off before they finished typing it. Also for the last few years I've been rather concerned that if anyone ever read the thing, Apple might get wind of it and force me to change the name. No, it's time to start afresh. Xander is now eight - that's years - and acquiring a sort of elder states-cat demeanour. I'm finally working in community service, which is one of the most difficult and rewarding things I've ever done in my life. DH is looking after people, because that's what he does. And we have a quite small yet noisy person coming to live with us late this winter, who for the time being shall be referred to as "Pinky".

So that's the whys of this thing. I'm still figuring out that whats, as in what the hell is this blog about. I've never been good with sticking with a theme and as with the Pod, I figure this will be a grab bag of my complaints and prejudices - and for the next few months at least, without even the amusement of drunken posts. Nonetheless, if you've ventured here, welcome and I hope you'll stick around.

What's Up With That - Federal Opposition Edition

2011-05-28T09:28:00.000+10:00

The latest Liberal party scandal is quite a shock. People expected Tony Abbott to behave honourably and tell the truth? Shocking.

The gist of the latest to-do is that Malcolm Turnbull was criticised in an internal Liberal Party email for failing to attend several parliamentary votes. Abbott has come under scrutiny for this because he himself also was absent from the votes, and more crucially, that whilst at first denying that he had seen this email before it was leaked to the press, Abbott now admits he did in fact read the thing at the time it was sent. This comes just days after Opposition Treasury spokesperson Joe Hockey - the "nice" Liberal - criticised Abbott for his lack of support in the aftermath of the Opposition's right of reply to the budget.

So, the Liberal party is being riven by internal disagreement and Tony Abbott is revealed as being not quite as truthful a character as one would hope from an alternative Prime Minister. What else is new? The weird thing this time is that none of this has made any difference to the polls. If an election were to be held today, the Coalition would win in a landslide, and I would make yet another vow to move my family overseas which I had no practical intentions of following through on. If Labor party tensions were this evident, every media commentator in the country would be sagely remarking it proves that they are not fit to run the country. The federal opposition gets a stunning free ride from the mainstream media in this country. I'm not a fan of Labor right now either, but the lack of balance in reporting is galling. Even so, normally such division and deceit in a political party would turn voters off; but they honestly don't seem to care in this case. So Tony Abbott is a divisive liar? Better that than a carbon tax. Which proves that Liberal voters are not to be trusted, ever.

Not Like The Others

2011-05-25T13:25:00.003+10:00

According to what passes for popular culture these days, pregnant women are supposed to be beatific. Tranquil. Smiling enigmatically with glowing hair and skin and the cutest ever baby bump. Why the hell don't I feel like that? No, it's not a case of feeling dowdy - I have purple hair and dark green fingernails right now (and considering I haven't had a slice of ham or a sip of alcohol for over six months I'm perfectly content with my decision to dye my hair, thank you); it's that I'm, well, so damn angry.

Just today, I've had a full and frank exchange of views with both the phone and pay TV companies (five tech visits in six weeks and we still don't have service); made several threatening references to the UN, and ended with the words "screw Flanders" over and over again. In the past few months we've moved, opened new bank accounts and had a computer crash, and this has meant lots and lots of dealing with call centres to get things sorted. Call centres...I'm sure just reading that phrase has set your blood to boil. I don't blame, and try not to take my aggression out on, the poor $21 an hour saps who take your calls. It's the management consultants who've set the tone for the modern call centre script whom I despise. First of all, according to the received call centre wisdom, they ask if they can call you by name - which in my case is invariably pronounced wrong. Why do they need to repeat my name back to me? It doesn't give me ownership of the call, it's just condescending and unnecessary. Then there's repeating back to you everything you say - I'm paying by the second for this, you know - whilst you, the caller, have to repeat your story every single time you call up trying to rectify their mistakes. Worst of all though, is their insistence on, no matter what, finishing the call with "anything else I can help you with today" - not what you want to hear when you've just said "well, this has been no help at all. Goodbye". Even if I wasn't trying to preserve a tiny shred of dignity by hanging up on them, it's like asking "fries with that" - do they think that during the course of the conversation I have suffered some brain injury that has rendered me incapable of remembering issues I called about subsequent to that with which we have already dealt?

And I can't have a cigarette and I can't have a vodka and I do worry about the effects of all this anger on my unborn child. DH doesn't understand. Nothing bothers him. If someone told him he was a complete idiot, DH would respond with "you may have a point there". If DH was a superhero, he'd be Reasonable Man; his superpower would be to make all parties see things from both sides of view. So I don't get a lot of sympathy. I want to be one of these pregnant women glowing with the joy of expectant motherhood and the joy of bringing life into the world, but I can't. Because I fear that world will infuriate my child as much as it infuriates their mother.