The Patriarchal Dividend

My first feminist piece of writing! Yay!

Warning: Stats ahoy!

Although Australia was one of the first nations not only to afford women the vote, but also to allow them to stand for public office, contemporary Australian society is still suffering at the hands of the so called “patriarchal dividend”. Leaps and bounds have been made from the days where it was enshrined in law that women were to give up their jobs once married, however for the patriarchal dividend to truly fade into obscurity, institutions such as the state, corporations and the media must instigate decisive change. Participation of women in the workforce has risen significantly since the 1960’s yet a wage gap persists, as does discourse labelling women as primary caregivers to children. Supplementary to this issue is that of childcare and the government’s role in ensuring it is both accessible and affordable. The assurance of this care allows women, whether mothers or not, the opportunity to full participate in public life. In electing a female Prime Minister for the first time, the Australian public has demonstrated their faith in women to perform public duties and no doubt ordinary Australian women take stock in this. This advancement has been supported by women holding many high offices across the country. Despite this surge in powerful women in public roles in Australia, there is much more to be done to combat violence and sexual violence against women in this country.

To properly engage in a nuanced discussion of the “patriarchal dividend” it is necessary to define the term and its current status in Australian society. Raewyn Connel succinctly defines the patriarchal dividend as “the advantage to men as a group from maintaining an unequal gender order”. She supplements this explanation by shedding light on the institutions our society is founded on and how simply, their everyday operations work to defend the patriarchal order. How these institutions and indeed societies across the world came to view maleness and masculinity as the default way of being is beyond the scope of this essay, but what is not, is an examination of institutions and how either their actions or inactions work to demolish the patriarchal dividend.

In a free market capitalist society such as Australia, in a nation that prides itself on phenomena such as the labour movement, the ombudsman and anti-discrimination laws, one would expect that gender or sex distinction would be of little to no consequence to corporations. Yet, the fact remains that Australian women earn 17.5% less than men. It is a startling and damning figure, and what is even more shocking is that since 2004, when we reached a peak low in the wage gap (14.9%), it has risen again. To fully understand the figure, an analysis of the labour market is required.

We need to understand the type of work that women do, and the implications of this work. In the Health Care and Social Assistance sector, 79% of employees are women, or in other words 120,000 out of 150,000 are women. With this figure, we can start to piece together some theories of gender. As Kate Millett suggests, “passivity” and “domestic service” form part of the gendering of women, and that upon acceptance of women into the labour market, they were assigned to roles that support the discourse of “femininity” in society. Men dominate industries such as mining and construction, where traits such as “aggression” and “force” could be seen as valuable. Even the Minister for Workplace Relations in November 2011 acknowledged that “workers in this sector have been underpaid for too long because their work was viewed as women’s work.” This statement is an indictment on the nation of Australia and crystallises the notion that traits associated with women such as empathy and a nurturing and caring demeanour are held in contempt when compared to masculine traits such as competitiveness and assertiveness. We can see through the Minister’s statement that a patriarchal dividend is still very much alive and well, even if some work is being done to close the wage gap.

The health and social assistance sector is one of the lowest paid in Australia, in direct opposition to mining, which actually garners $237.2 billion dollars in revenue to the economy. Fair Work Australia has found that workers in the health and social assistance sector have been undervalued because of gender considerations. The Health Services Union has recently negotiated a 2.5% pay increase for its workers and although it is a positive step, it is merely a drop in the large ocean of inequalities that still exist for women in the workplace.  According to EOWA, up to 48% of cases in which women are being paid less than men are unexplained. One can um and ah over the reasons behind this black hole in the statistics but if one accepts the premise that masculine characteristics are more highly valued than their feminine counterparts, a picture of the patriarchal dividend begins to emerge.

As Anne Summers points out in her book The End of Equality, up to 32% of the 500,000 women who would like to return to work but cannot, label inadequate or unaffordable childcare as a barrier to them returning to employment. This statistic points out that women are still expected to take on primary caregiving roles. It also illuminates the idea that to “combine a satisfying and productive economic life” women are forced to overcome the obstacles of finding care for their children, taking time off work or having to give up employment all together if a suitable compromise cannot be made. Men have no such obstacles. Even though it is illegal in Australia to discriminate on the basis of pregnancy, in 2001 212 women made formal complaints under the Sexual Discrimination Act and a further 500 telephoned the Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission to check their rights.

The current Gillard Government has moved to allow mothers more mobility in regards to their career. The Childcare Benefit can pay up to $195 a week to parents who work. They are also able to claim a rebate of up to 50% of out of pocket childcare expenses. The government has also introduced the Paid Parental Leave scheme which entitles all primary caregivers, (which, disappointingly on the Human Services websites says “usually the mother”) to 18 weeks paid leave at the national minimum wage. These economic policies are productive steps in recognizing the sacrifice many women have to make and helpful in closing the gap between men and women and their success in the workplace.

Although the legitimacy of her gaining the Prime Ministership continues to be debated, Julia Gillard’s appointment as the first female Prime Minister of the nation in 2010 looked set to steamroll notions about Australian politics. In 2003, only two women formed part of the coalition’s 17 person cabinet. In 2012, that number has increased (if only slightly) to five under Gillard’s government. What is astounding however, is that the three highest offices in the land, those of Head of State, Governor General and Prime Minister are all held by women. Anna Burke has been appointed Speaker of the House of Representatives, another prestigious position. The highest legal office in the land, that of Attorney General has recently been awarded to Nicola Roxon. These appointments would appear to support a deconstruction of the patriarchal dividend in politics and the normalization of women in public office, rather than a token gesture. Upon further examination of the numbers however, only 37 out of the 150 seats in the House of Representatives are held by women – a meagre 25%. The Senate doesn't perform much better with 37% of senators being women. One only needs to hear certain politicians speak of “what the housewives of Australia need to understand as they do the ironing” among other gendered insults to understand that Australian federal politics remains hostile to women.  If there is not equal representation for half the population, and following from that women’s issues are never seen as wholly important as men’s – how can we ever claim the disappearance of the  patriarchal dividend?

One issue that does affect women and is pervasive though society is that of domestic and sexual violence. According to the Australian Institute of Criminology, in 2007, the highest number of sexual assaults was recorded, at 19,781. This equates to almost 60 assaults a day. And these statistics are merely the numbers that are reported. The institute states that gender of the victims cannot be released as the research is “incomplete” however taking statistics from elsewhere shows that six to nine percent of women over 18 are assaulted each year. We can therefore assume that most sexual assault victims are female. Women live under the threat of violence and assault, and this has a devastating effect on their health and well being. VicHealth has estimated that violence is the leading cause of health burden in women. The reality is that women live in a world where violence towards them is acceptable – most violence towards women is perpetrated by either an intimate partner or a male person known to the woman. One-quarter (24% of women) have experienced unwanted sexual touching over their lifetime. There are likely a myriad of reasons as to why women are targeted in this way, however it is beyond the scope of this essay. What is not, are the numbers. They are damning and an indictment on the nation. They show that men use violence as a tool of power over women and that women are not privileged to assume safety, not even in their own homes, where most violent attacks take place. Violence can, and should, be eradicated, and to be plain, as long as women fear men, the patriarchal dividend will be prevalent.

This essay has shown that there are a number of factors that point to the prevalence of the patriarchal dividend in Australian contemporary society. The socialization of boys to become men tells them that aggression and assertiveness is valued and this essay has attempted to draw links between this attitude and men’s success in the workplace. It has also discussed the implications of labelling work sectors as “women’s work” and how that affects the wage gap in Australia. It has also considered the importance of public policy in defending  women’s opportunities in the workplace, whether they choose to become mothers or not. Representation of women in politics was also discussed and conclusions drawn that even though women now hold positions of high power, more must be done to increase representation of women so that women’s issues lose that label and become simply “issues”. Saddening statistics of violence against women also supported the idea that the patriarchal dividend is persisting – emphasizing that women cannot exercise their full citizenship because their personal safety is not guaranteed. Overall, although institutions, especially governments, are aiding the plight of women, in 2012, the patriarchal dividend persists. 

One of those days or why depression is real.

I seem to be having one of those days.

You know those days where you barely move an inch out of bed, but go on to call that inch a victory. That inch goes on to grow into a justification that your day wasn't merely you being sloth incarnate.

It's one of those days where pulling ugg boots onto my feet feels like a task. I'm warm in my hoodie and cardigan but my body does not deem the energy expenditure to remove them worthwhile.

It's one of those days where I have many pressing commitments - uni assignments, domestic chores, social engagements. Yet the weight of their importance deepens the imprint of my deriere firmly into my mattress.

It's one of those days where reading 50 pages of a 250 page book is seen as significant as curing cancer. Another one of my hollow victories.

I get scared when I feel this way. As someone who suffered from (undiagnosed) depression for what in retrospect, was the better part of six years, these notions of apathy and displeasure that are currently leaking from my brain are an all too familiar reminder of what was once a daily experience.

I would rise at 12pm. Well, I would tell myself, twelve hours of sleep must just be normal for some people. Never mind that actually pulling the covers off myself would usually take another hour or two.

Once out of bed, I'd shuffle around the house in my pyjamas, foraging for some form of sustenance. Usually toast. Anything else required too much effort, and the strain of even thinking about the energy required sometimes brought me to tears. It's okay, that was normal too, I just really liked toast.

Oh, I should get dressed? Why? Don't I look good in my food stained trackpants and dressing gown?

Toast in hand, I'd crawl into the corner of the couch, lamenting about another lost day of university. I just wasn't passionate about what I was studying. And besides I had already missed the past three classes, how could I face the humiliation of returning? Returning to a room where all eyes would be fixed on me, vulnerable, scared me, those damn confident bastards judging me, for being such a failure at institutional education. No, the shame of it was too much. Maybe I'll read, I'd think. But my enthusiasm for that pastime had sated. And I hated myself for the contrast between then, and now.

Reading had once been my armory. It suited me up with the finest chainmail, gave me a weapon in words and threw me head first into any perceived battles. The hunger I had for books, for words, was insatiable - I had taken to curating a mini library in the toilet.

Now I couldn't bring myself to pick up a book. Their enchantment has ceased and all that I held in my hands was a symbol of what I would never be. Other people took words as their ward, carefully crafting them into luminous tales. But not me. I was a bad and horrible person for even contemplating writing, my desire was an affront to all those who had come before.

So I didn't read.

I sat in the corner of that couch, barbed words spewed forth, bouncing between the kindly cushions I was nestled between.

I was dumb. I was stupid. I was useless. I was incompetent. I was boring. I was intolerable. I was messy.

I was the worst person who had ever walked the earth.

No wonder I didn't have any friends. (Looking back, I actually did. I had a lot of friends. My mind was just too messed up to acknowledge that people would actually be interested in who I am. I looked at a lot of those people with suspicion - as if to say 'What do you want from me? What could you possibly want from me?" I want to apologise for that. And say thank you to those who persevered with me. I love you all more than I can possibly explain.)

And so I would continue to plunge myself into the icy waters of self loathing.
I didn't want to kill myself. Only depressed people want to do that.

I'd go and do stuff that was supposed to be fun. Cinema, parties, library (fun for me, okay?!), theatre, sports. And every time I'd come back feeling hollow. I just tried to tell myself I didn't enjoy EVERY ACTIVITY KNOWN TO MAN.

It's a vicious, self perpetuating cycle.  You wake up and you hate yourself. Then you hate yourself more because you hate yourself. You try to do things you used to enjoy and you feel nothing. So you hate yourself. You see everyone else being relaxed and happy and think it mustn't be that hard. So you hate yourself. You hold yourself to standards you can never achieve. So when you fail, you hate yourself. When you do finally crack and tell someone how you're feeling and cry on their shoulder for two hours because you feel helpless and hopeless, you feel like a burden and try to brush it off and then you hate yourself.

That is why days like today scare me. I don't know why I got better. I can't pinpoint the exact factors that led to my recovery. Maybe I was just lucky.

And yet some aren't so fortunate. Depression is real. And it's shitty. And it's scary.

This post was meant to be a light hearted look at procrastinating on a uni assignment, and it evolved into this. Maybe it's just a story that has to be told.

If you're currently in acute distress please call Lifeline on 13 11 14
If you want more information on depression please check out the Beyond Blue website.

The Rubens at The Corner

Last Tuesday, regional bluesy rockers "The Rubens" graced a packed The Corner to put on their biggest live show yet. I was there to capture as much as of the action as possible. It was a passionate, fun gig - these guys are going places.

All images shot on a Pentax K7 with a 50mm/f1.4 lens.

Emma Louise at Northcote Social Club

It's been so long I'm not even going to acknowledge it!

"Hmmm, did I just walk into a private game of pass the parcel?" I thought to myself as I stepped into Northcote Social Club's band room. I was wayyyy too early and those that were even earlier than I had lined the perimeter, silently daring anyone to be enthusiastic (and by that I mean a. stand, and b. move ever so slightly into the centre of the room). Silly hipsters. Then again, I was wearing maroon pants, a jumper adorned with sheep and was toting a 50mm lens. 

Luckily, as support act 'Argentina' took the stage, security ushered everyone to their feet, and I no longer felt like it was "mat time" in kindergarten. From the beginning of this Brisbane band's set, it was clear they were not from Melbourne's dreary climate. They were delivering songs that could only be described as effervescent pop rock, songs that put you on a beach and make you dig your toes into the sand. They played the kind of music you'd put on on the home stretch of a road trip - Argentina takes you to a place that's both familiar and heart warming. As more psychedelic orchestral sounds found their way into the set, I imagined their music behind a crackling 8mm film montage, your heart soaring and weeping in one brilliant beat. Do you see where I'm going with this? Argentina make you feel as if you have everything and nothing, as if nothing could better this day, except the hope of tomorrow.

But onto the main event! The beautiful  Emma Louise. 

Having not seen much visual media of her, except for what I now know to be a deceiving video clip, I was at first blown away by her size. She was tiny! Especially as she was being dwarfed by her band, who all seemed to have some kind of giant DNA lurking in their blood.

None of this mattered once she opened the show. Her voice, pitch perfect, transported us to a place where she held our hands through the delicacies of her life. Truly, she was like a fluffy pair of ear muffs in a blustery wind, or the first sip of hot tea on a frosty morning. Her warmth was clear to the entire audience, and her banter between songs was awkward but endearing.

Her latest single "Boy" was well received by the, in her own words "quiet but attentive" crowd and most would have had no idea it was the first time she had played the song live (she gave away quite a bit between songs). "Jungle" was great as well, although I feel slower paced songs are where her strengths really lie.

Emma Louise closed with the song, "1000 Sundowns" (a personal favourite), a tribute to her uncle who passed away from cancer. It was incredibly heartfelt and her performance left not a dry eye in the house.

Emma Louise's music is the type of phenomenon that swells your heart and begs you to fall in love. The kind of love where everything is perfect and you're swimming through perfumed days, coated in each other's smiles.

So get out there, fall in love!

The People's Market.

Docklands has always gotten a bit of a bad rap from Melbournians. "There's nothing there", they'd moan. "It's a ghost town", bitched the others. And I must admit for a while I was somewhat on their side, despite the fact that I thought conceptually Docklands was awesome.

That's all changing though ladies and gents, with an injection of some much needed Melbourne personality into the area. The People's Market has set up shop and although still in its infancy, provides some much needed edge to the waterfront suburb.

Driving down Docklands Drive, it was fairy easy to find (and central, which is a definite leg up over say, Camberwell Market) but a little bit scary. My Hyundai Getz rattled along the gravel road, feeling dwarfed as we traversed underneath the Bolte Bridge. Yes, directly underneath, with great big stones, abandoned warehouses and grasslands to keep us company. It was interestingly sparse and, well, very in line with what one has come to expect from Docklands, but all the same I appreciated the ample and cheap parking on site. That, in itself, runs rings around the Victoria Market. So, tick for convenience.

Jumping out of my car, I suddenly became hyper aware of my camera, 50mm f/1.4 lens attached. Markets, especially ones teetering on the 'shabby chic' end of the scale, attract hipsters like sharks to blood. And here I was, playing right into their palm. I ignored the urge to seek out the nearest chai soy latte. But I was pleasantly surprised at the crowd. Plenty of young families, plenty of twenty somethings and a healthy sprinkling of middle aged market veterans.

Being able to see Melbourne's docks from the site, it seemed fitting that the entrance of the market is decorated (adorned?) with great big shipping containers, a theme that continues throughout the space. The market is set up into two sections; a courtyard boasting some of Melbourne's best street food in restyled shipping containers (it's like what would happen if Section 8 and The Taco Truck had babies) and then aisles of second hand/flea goodness.

Going by Tessa time, it was early in the morning (12pm) and I was desperately seeking a coffee.  The League of Honest Coffee had me covered. Although, on second thought, having the word "honest" in a business name is like a greasy haired second hand car saleman telling me to trust him. 

My naive, trustful nature was rewarded however, with a perfectly extracted and textured latte, sweetened by cafe staff that were unpretentious and helpful. Kudos.

There was a great selection of food on offer, including $5 Grill'd burgers, paella, tacos/burritos, hot dogs, those twisty potato things and noodles, with a focus on fresh, relatively healthy foods. The market is licensed, letting the creators of St Jerome's Laneway festival, prop up a portable Thousand Pound Bend bar. Bring on the sangria and beers!

On to the (arguably) more important stuff, SHOPPING!

Plenty of vintage garb for those who watch too much Mad Men, but also plenty for those who love to play the voyeur, trawling through people's unwanted goods. Feel no shame, fellow dumpster divers, for at the People's Market, there were many treasures to be found. I loved that - a flea market that was true to its name.

Above, the creepiest toy I have ever seen. It just rode around in circles on its little bike. Again. And again. And again. Until it decided you were pissing it off at which point it got off its quaint little tricycle and stabbed you in the calf. 

I should also mention that the organisers put together some fantastic live music which gave the former carpark space a softer, cushiony feel. Adam Eaton literally put a tear in my eye, unusual for twangy acoustic rock but his voice just...ahhh. I think it reminded me too much of Firefly. And if you haven't heard of Firefly the TV show well, until you find out what it is, we can't be friends... 

 Check him out at adameatonmusic.com.

The fresh produce section of the market, although small, held some nice surprises. Flowers beautiful enough to brighten anyone's day, cheap veggies and from what I could see, a wine stand that was very liberal with their samples. 

So get down there people.

The People's Market at Docklands is on Docklands Drive literally under the Bolte Bridge.

They are open Saturdays from 10am, and the best bit is, the courtyard with the food and drinks stays open late!

Stay peachy!

www.peoplesmarket.com.au

Von Follies by Dita von Teese for Target

Look, it's going to be really difficult for me to not spend this entire blog post salivating over what a goddess Dita Von Teese is. Her stage presence makes Robin Williams look like a wallflower and the way she exudes femininity basically makes my ovaries explode. Gorgeous, with a penchant for danger (her relationship with Marilyn Manson, am I right?) her self made success puts her in excellent stead as an 'alternative' role model.

Moving on...

The appearance of Von Teese drew a refreshing crowd to Central Pier. We were treated to old world glamour- tailored pieces and structural lines that, unbeknown to us, would mimic Von Teese's collection. 40's hairstyles were abound, many throwing caution to the wind, combining their lacquered look with fabulously coloured locks - fire engine red, fairy floss pink, I think I even saw sky blue on one girl. It was rockabilly for the modern day - women celebrating their shapes, without being demure.

Dat Corset.

Dat Coat.

Dat Suit. 

Dat Skirt.

Dat WHOLE OUTFIT!

So yes, success all round for the festival goers.

As the time trundled closer to 8.30, I wandered over to the press entrance. You know, whatever, I had a Media Pass, no biggie. KDGJSDGJLVLMSHQIFJKL.
 I was excited. I was even more excited when I turned around and none other than JOSH FLINN from Australia's Next Top Model was behind me.

I had a total geek out, nearly cried, and refused to take a photo with him. First world success? I think so.

 He was so tiny in real life, he looked as if he should have had a FRAGILE sticker plastered across his forehead. A little frail man, in an astounding leopard print blazer - could anyone have blamed me if I'd tore it off his back? I don't think so.

 Once seated, (without a gift bag, sob, although we had conspired to steal one), I had a good forty minutes or so to consider my circumstances - the show was going to be fashionably late. 

Here I was. Media Pass around my neck, lauded journalists to my right, noses buried in their smart phones, soaking up The Bourne Book. I was about to see Dita von Teese in the flesh. The dress I was wearing was amazing. I knew I could actually afford the designs I was about to see, rather than having to stick pictures of them on my wish board. Bloody fantastic.

And then the show began.

There Dita was, strutting to a brassy big band soundtrack, sauntering down the runway. The woman knows how to pack a punch. She worked every inch of that runway, hips swaying, as she pumped her Christian Louboutin's (and the crowd) into a frenzy.

As I said earlier, Von Teese brought something new and visceral to LMFF. Never have I seen a fashion crowd so engaged. That could have just been the girls in skimpy underwear, but when there's wolf whistles and cheering throughout the show, you have no choice but to imagine that the Dita brand is taking off. There is no shame in vamping it up and this 'vintage for the modern era' is certainly beginning to resonate.

 Black lace, leather gloves, whips (all taken from Von Teese's personal collection) adored the models, who were of all shapes and sizes. All of them looked fabulously confident. 

The designs themselves were stunning, fit for any wannabe burlesque star (or ringmaster). 

I left feeling satisfied, albeit never wanting to see another model's thinly veiled ass again.  The collection gave off a sense of luxury coupled with accessibility. Von Teese is a fantastic saleswoman. 

Von Follies by Dita von Teese is available at Target.