I have been doing a lot of internet based research during my time with chronic morning sickness, and I can recommend the following sites:
- Mama-Is. http://www.mama-is.com/ This lady sure has some strong ideas about mothering, mainly that it is awesome and a total reasons to respect and worship women. We disagree on some points (she doesn't want women separated from their babibes AT ALL for the first two years... so tough if you want a career) but I love her affirming cartoons. The latest, 'Inspiring People', is a good example.
= Blue Milk http://bluemilk.wordpress.com/10-plus-things-about-feminist-mothers/ .
- The Age Essential Baby forums. http://members.essentialbaby.com.au/index.php? The threads on this are enormous! They cover every possible topic to do with babies. Plus they set up a forum of each two-week window for due dates, so my group is Due January 15-31. Together we chat about what we are going through and what our hopes and fears are. Right now there is a lot of morning sickness, worries about getting through to twelve weeks, intimidation by the idea of first-time motherhood (for some of us!) and how we are coping with the fatigue. Oh and what to buy, how our partners are reacting, and whether we are showing yet... and so on.
I will post more as I find them... :-)
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Women and the AFL
I have been a fan of Australian Rules football for a long time. I believe I still have somewhere a VHS copy of the 1994 Australian Football League (AFL) Grand Final, won by my beloved West Coast Eagles. It is labelled in multi-coloured ink 'My most treasured possession', a record of a game that saw my fabourite player of all time, Dean Kemp, awarded the Norm Smith medal for best afield on Grand Final Day. The memories. The glory. The memories!
Being a female footy fan didn't seem all that unusual to me as a kid, but as I grew up I came to realise that football is pretty much a man's world. The players, the officials, the administrators, the commentators, the journalists and many of the most vocal fans are men. The violence of the game is both a product of and feeds into some basic staples of masculinity: physical strength, aggression, denial of pain, and a desire to dominate (or defeat) other men. These men's bodies are bruised and broken by the time they retire; an average match can see upwards of four serious injuries to ankles, kness, ribs, or shoulders. This is part of the appeal of Australian Rules: watching grown men throw themselves around with blind courage is almost as fun as watching the more graceful parts of the game, such as running, passing the ball and scoring goals.
Be that as it may, the culture of masculinity that is so entrenched within the AFL has in recent days come under some scrutiny. Not enough scrutiny, I would argue, but a little. The former president of the Carlton Football Club, John Elliott, a bankrupt and odious man, has stood by his claims a week ago that while he was president during the 1990s, Carlton paid 'three or four' women wads of cash in exchange for their not pressing rape claims against players. In the context of a year already featuring public soul-searching by the National Rugby League (NRL) regarding sexual assault cases, these relevations - seemingly made to entertain a corporate audience - are serious indeed.
Or are they? The AFL's top administrator, Andrew Demetriou, has distanced himself from Elliott by calling him a 'dinosaur' from an 'age that is a bygone era'. Carlton has made no comment at all, while rumoured to be taking active steps from preventing life-member Elliott from having any further role at the club he used to run. By focusing on Elliott himself rather than on the substance of his allegations, the club and the competition's top administrator have neatly sidestepped the question of whether indeed there were cover-ups regarding sexual violence by Carlton players, and the implications of such cover-ups. The 1990s are not so long ago, as Victorian police acknowledged when they promptly called on Elliott for interview regarding what they rightly view as a criminal investigation. That these incidents might have involved real women, with real grievances, seems not to have occurred to the AFL or to Cartlon. How can this be so? The only conclusion I can draw is that they think it self-evident that either Elliott, or the women of whom he has spoken, are lying.
There have been rumblings of discontent regarding such a muted, indirect response. The ABC's Offsiders programme demanded this morning that if this was a story from a bygone age, the AFL should hire some archaeologists and start digging. Caroline Wilson, the only senior woman journalist reporting on the AFL, has made the links between the AFL's response and its attitudes to women overall. (http://www.theage.com.au/news/rfnews/regard-for-women-still-plagues-afl/2009/06/28/1245961459479.html?page=2). Indeed, Wilson has herself been the target of outrageous sexism in the past, with a mock-up of her body physically attacked on prime-time television by the AFL media's resident shock jock, Sam Newman. She is best-placed to make such a comment, and I applaud her courage in once again being the only female voice permitted to raise the issue of what it means to be a woman in the AFL, where men's bodies and men's voices take centre stage. But Wilson is like David to the AFL's Goliath, surrounded by less critical colleagues and facing a wall of 'no comment' from the senior playmakers.
The AFL has made some overtures towards women of late; a handful sit on club boards, and there is always a thrill in seeing the one female umpire, a young goal umpire, adjudicating the big matches on television. But if it wants to retain its image as a quintessentially Australian sport to be enjoyed by all the family, the AFL needs to rethink its attitudes to violence against women. It is a serious issue, and not just because it can be embarassing. It is serious because it is violence, because it is against women, because it is a crime, and because it is unacceptable at any level in society. And the AFL, like it or not, influences plenty of kids, just as it did me many years ago when I cheered my team on to bloodied, bruised victory.
Being a female footy fan didn't seem all that unusual to me as a kid, but as I grew up I came to realise that football is pretty much a man's world. The players, the officials, the administrators, the commentators, the journalists and many of the most vocal fans are men. The violence of the game is both a product of and feeds into some basic staples of masculinity: physical strength, aggression, denial of pain, and a desire to dominate (or defeat) other men. These men's bodies are bruised and broken by the time they retire; an average match can see upwards of four serious injuries to ankles, kness, ribs, or shoulders. This is part of the appeal of Australian Rules: watching grown men throw themselves around with blind courage is almost as fun as watching the more graceful parts of the game, such as running, passing the ball and scoring goals.
Be that as it may, the culture of masculinity that is so entrenched within the AFL has in recent days come under some scrutiny. Not enough scrutiny, I would argue, but a little. The former president of the Carlton Football Club, John Elliott, a bankrupt and odious man, has stood by his claims a week ago that while he was president during the 1990s, Carlton paid 'three or four' women wads of cash in exchange for their not pressing rape claims against players. In the context of a year already featuring public soul-searching by the National Rugby League (NRL) regarding sexual assault cases, these relevations - seemingly made to entertain a corporate audience - are serious indeed.
Or are they? The AFL's top administrator, Andrew Demetriou, has distanced himself from Elliott by calling him a 'dinosaur' from an 'age that is a bygone era'. Carlton has made no comment at all, while rumoured to be taking active steps from preventing life-member Elliott from having any further role at the club he used to run. By focusing on Elliott himself rather than on the substance of his allegations, the club and the competition's top administrator have neatly sidestepped the question of whether indeed there were cover-ups regarding sexual violence by Carlton players, and the implications of such cover-ups. The 1990s are not so long ago, as Victorian police acknowledged when they promptly called on Elliott for interview regarding what they rightly view as a criminal investigation. That these incidents might have involved real women, with real grievances, seems not to have occurred to the AFL or to Cartlon. How can this be so? The only conclusion I can draw is that they think it self-evident that either Elliott, or the women of whom he has spoken, are lying.
There have been rumblings of discontent regarding such a muted, indirect response. The ABC's Offsiders programme demanded this morning that if this was a story from a bygone age, the AFL should hire some archaeologists and start digging. Caroline Wilson, the only senior woman journalist reporting on the AFL, has made the links between the AFL's response and its attitudes to women overall. (http://www.theage.com.au/news/rfnews/regard-for-women-still-plagues-afl/2009/06/28/1245961459479.html?page=2). Indeed, Wilson has herself been the target of outrageous sexism in the past, with a mock-up of her body physically attacked on prime-time television by the AFL media's resident shock jock, Sam Newman. She is best-placed to make such a comment, and I applaud her courage in once again being the only female voice permitted to raise the issue of what it means to be a woman in the AFL, where men's bodies and men's voices take centre stage. But Wilson is like David to the AFL's Goliath, surrounded by less critical colleagues and facing a wall of 'no comment' from the senior playmakers.
The AFL has made some overtures towards women of late; a handful sit on club boards, and there is always a thrill in seeing the one female umpire, a young goal umpire, adjudicating the big matches on television. But if it wants to retain its image as a quintessentially Australian sport to be enjoyed by all the family, the AFL needs to rethink its attitudes to violence against women. It is a serious issue, and not just because it can be embarassing. It is serious because it is violence, because it is against women, because it is a crime, and because it is unacceptable at any level in society. And the AFL, like it or not, influences plenty of kids, just as it did me many years ago when I cheered my team on to bloodied, bruised victory.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Feminist Pregnancy
I have never been pregnant before, except for one brief and all-too-quickly terminated opportunity in 1998. And I have to say, I am shocked by the experience.
I am now at the Leslie Nielsen stage (9 and a half weeks.... geddit?) and have spent much of the last three and a half weeks lying on the couch. I am so tired. I feel so sick. I have to keep eating constantly, but not just anything. Oh no. I have to negotiate at length between my body and mind so as to discover what will be acceptable to both. One day hot chips will be the peak of heavenly food consumption, the next hot chips will be an evil I cannot tolerate even thinking about. Our cupboards and fridge are full of things I thought I might like to eat, or even started eating, but which have been cast aside. For the record, today I am keen on passionfruit, strawberries (but I don't have any), lemonade, chocolate, hot chips (it's one of those days). I am not keen on any other fruit, vegetables, eggs, Yogo, leftover curry, or black jellybeans.
Why am I so shocked? I thought that pregnancy was a fairly inocuous thing during the first trimester - no one knows, no one can tell (ha! My waist has, as they say, 'thickened' dramatically) and morning sickness just meant throwing up occasionally if you were lucky, often if you were not. WRONG. Morning sickness is not just about nausea, although that aspect of it can be crippling. It's about motion sickness: moving around anywhere seems very unnatural, and my body pleads with me to lie down if I overdo it. I cannot cook, I cannot do the shopping, I cannot exercise. This is extreme, peeps! Who knew?
Further to that, my digestive system has gone ballistic. This could be down to the odd diet I have been negotiating, plus the lack of exercise. I won't go into detail, but let's just say that knowing when to force down some prune juice is fast becoming an essential skill of this pregnancy.
And then there's the emotional aspect. I am not ready for a baby! I only just got back from London! I only just decided to switch careers! I have no friends in Alice Springs, where I live! Poor Simon has been on the receiving end of this. I lash out at him when I am at my sickest, and I cry on him when I am plumbing depths I thought were some way off (like when the baby was born). True, there have been happy moments too but they are usually brought on by Simon himself, an emotional oasis in the desert that provides encouragement, hope and excitement.
For of course I am excited. I am excited to be doing this and to be doing it with Simon. As he himself says, sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the blessing, but a blessing it undoubtedly is.
My question though, is this: Why are women fooled into thinking that pregnancy is this glowing, wonderful state? No woman I have spoken to has enjoyed their first trimester. Every single one I have confided in has clucked with sympathy when I speak of sickness, nausea, fatigue, uncertainty and boredom. They all know what I am talking about. Some are adamant that the second trimester is fun, but no one has argued yet that the third trimester, when you look like you have swallowed a watermelon, is all that brilliant. That means that for the vast majority of us, at least two trimesters out of three are a physical challenge that we are, arguably, unprepared for. We are led to believe that we will look beautiful, feel great, and enjoy nesting as we prepare for the birth. I feel unlike I ever have before: I have lost control of my body, I can FEEL the hormones washing around, and at the end of the day the sickness actually cannot be predicted or neutralised. My boobs are sore, my belly is growing (and groaning), I nap in the afternoons and I contribute nothing, apart from an invisible embryo, to the household. I have lost my energy, my identity and my strength, and I really feel I had very little warning that this would happen.
When the baby is born and becomes the light of my life, I will of course forget all of this. I will be affected by the amnesia that allows women to go back, time and again, for more pregnancy, more babies. And in the end, I do not wish in any way to suggest that I suspect that this effort is not worth it.
I just wish that women had told me how hard this was going to be. It may be 'natural', but it sure doesn't feel that way.
I am now at the Leslie Nielsen stage (9 and a half weeks.... geddit?) and have spent much of the last three and a half weeks lying on the couch. I am so tired. I feel so sick. I have to keep eating constantly, but not just anything. Oh no. I have to negotiate at length between my body and mind so as to discover what will be acceptable to both. One day hot chips will be the peak of heavenly food consumption, the next hot chips will be an evil I cannot tolerate even thinking about. Our cupboards and fridge are full of things I thought I might like to eat, or even started eating, but which have been cast aside. For the record, today I am keen on passionfruit, strawberries (but I don't have any), lemonade, chocolate, hot chips (it's one of those days). I am not keen on any other fruit, vegetables, eggs, Yogo, leftover curry, or black jellybeans.
Why am I so shocked? I thought that pregnancy was a fairly inocuous thing during the first trimester - no one knows, no one can tell (ha! My waist has, as they say, 'thickened' dramatically) and morning sickness just meant throwing up occasionally if you were lucky, often if you were not. WRONG. Morning sickness is not just about nausea, although that aspect of it can be crippling. It's about motion sickness: moving around anywhere seems very unnatural, and my body pleads with me to lie down if I overdo it. I cannot cook, I cannot do the shopping, I cannot exercise. This is extreme, peeps! Who knew?
Further to that, my digestive system has gone ballistic. This could be down to the odd diet I have been negotiating, plus the lack of exercise. I won't go into detail, but let's just say that knowing when to force down some prune juice is fast becoming an essential skill of this pregnancy.
And then there's the emotional aspect. I am not ready for a baby! I only just got back from London! I only just decided to switch careers! I have no friends in Alice Springs, where I live! Poor Simon has been on the receiving end of this. I lash out at him when I am at my sickest, and I cry on him when I am plumbing depths I thought were some way off (like when the baby was born). True, there have been happy moments too but they are usually brought on by Simon himself, an emotional oasis in the desert that provides encouragement, hope and excitement.
For of course I am excited. I am excited to be doing this and to be doing it with Simon. As he himself says, sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the blessing, but a blessing it undoubtedly is.
My question though, is this: Why are women fooled into thinking that pregnancy is this glowing, wonderful state? No woman I have spoken to has enjoyed their first trimester. Every single one I have confided in has clucked with sympathy when I speak of sickness, nausea, fatigue, uncertainty and boredom. They all know what I am talking about. Some are adamant that the second trimester is fun, but no one has argued yet that the third trimester, when you look like you have swallowed a watermelon, is all that brilliant. That means that for the vast majority of us, at least two trimesters out of three are a physical challenge that we are, arguably, unprepared for. We are led to believe that we will look beautiful, feel great, and enjoy nesting as we prepare for the birth. I feel unlike I ever have before: I have lost control of my body, I can FEEL the hormones washing around, and at the end of the day the sickness actually cannot be predicted or neutralised. My boobs are sore, my belly is growing (and groaning), I nap in the afternoons and I contribute nothing, apart from an invisible embryo, to the household. I have lost my energy, my identity and my strength, and I really feel I had very little warning that this would happen.
When the baby is born and becomes the light of my life, I will of course forget all of this. I will be affected by the amnesia that allows women to go back, time and again, for more pregnancy, more babies. And in the end, I do not wish in any way to suggest that I suspect that this effort is not worth it.
I just wish that women had told me how hard this was going to be. It may be 'natural', but it sure doesn't feel that way.
The childcare debate in Australia
Regarding Sarah Hanson-Young and her child in the Senate.
There has been very little sympathy for the Greens Senator from South Australia, who committed the sin of allowing her infant daughter into the Senate Chamber during a vote and who was ordered to remove said child by the Chamber President. The resulting critique of her actions has centred around three propositions:
1) That this was a stunt organised by a political party ‘known’ for its stunts, a grab for publicity that has detracted from the ‘real’ business of running the country (see http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2009/06/19/2602777.htm?section=justin)
2) That Senator Hanson-Young is paid to be a Senator and should observe the responsibilities associated with that by turning up to vote as and when required, in a professional manner that excludes being accompanied by a child (http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,25665273-5000117,00.html)
3) That politicians have no right to luxuries not afforded the rest of us, ie the ability to bring children into the workplace when they wish to (see comments on the ABC news website and the Melbourne Herald Sun website among others)
One first issue, I have to say I admire and support the Greens wholeheartedly, especially their propensity for what are called ‘stunts’. This is because the Greens are the only party in Parliament who have the imagination to see past the usual rigmarole of what passes for standard political discourse in this country. Without their activists coming up with great demonstrations, banners, costumes, and slogans, we would not have had nearly as much fun debating the merits of the war in Iraq, deforestation, increased uranium mining, or even the GST, if you can remember that far back. The Greens are thinking outside the square, and yes, sometimes they do do outrageous things to get our attention. I applaud that. No one else has the courage to say what they say, especially about war and the environment, and it is such a relief not to be oppressed by grey suits, sensible hair or unthinking conformity.
On the second issue, I think that condemning Senator Hanson-Young’s professionalism reflects the masculine bias that has weighed Parliament down for centuries. The notion that ‘professional’ is antithetical to ‘family’ is an ancient idea, and reflects the notion of ‘separate spheres’, where the public sphere is associated with work and business, and the private is associated with family and emotion. Not coincidentally, the public sphere is most often coded as masculine, and the private sphere is most often coded as feminine, despite the strong challenges made by feminism over the last hundred years and more. For women who work in the public sphere, the question of what to ‘do’ with their children has been much more fraught than it has been for men, who have more often had access to partners and family who look after children for them. Childcare in this country is woefully inadequate (though I do not deny that Parliament itself has childcare provisions).To me there is no sense in maintaining the ideology of separate spheres. We need to work out a way for every individual to have a good balance between the different aspects of their lives. For now, women are struggling to be working mothers, and need support. Without it, Senators like Hanson Young, at 26 a very young woman, will be excluded from a governing body that is nominally meant to represent all Australians. The Senate should not be only institution to change its attitude to children, but it should be among many to do so, so that women and men can fulfil their roles as parents and professionals as and how they see fit.
Which leads me to my final point. When challenged, many commentators on this issue have fallen back on the point that politicians should not be given privileges. If doctors, teachers, or nurses cannot take their children to work, so the argument goes, why should politicians be allowed to? This is a red herring. I would argue that Senator Hanson-Young and the Greens were not arguing for special privileges in the Chamber; in fact, they argued that the incident highlighted the need for more family-friendly workplaces across the country.
Which in turn leads me back to the first point, that about this being a ‘stunt’. I am not convinced that this incident was planned – Senator Hanson-Young only took her daughter in to the Chamber after a short-notice call was put out to Senators that they were required for a vote – but I am sure as hell supportive of the Greens using this incident to question Australian attitudes around work and family. I think we have a long, long way to go before families and work are better integrated, but that a struggle to do so will only benefit the country. The Senate should relax its rules around children in the chamber, and employers across the country should think about how best to integrate childcare into their structures.
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