CAAANBRA: HOBBY HORSES

If there has been one single moment when Prime Minister Gillard blasted through the twin filters of her own spin team and partisan media interests, it was that afternoon when she stood her ground and stated in a tone as unforgiving as forged steel that she would not be lectured to by that man. The famous “Misogyny Speech” made international news, was viewed over 2 million times on You Tube and saw Prime Minister Gillard’s name amongst the finalists for the coveted position as Time Person of the Year.

Contrast that moment with today’s headline news. The Women’s Weekly, that final frontier of The Way We Were, reveals that Julia Gillard is knitting a baby kangaroo toy as a gift for Prince William and Princess Catherine’s baby. Awwww. Isn’t it sweet? Awwww. And so appropriately feminine. Would you like a cup of tea and a piece of home-made cream sponge while you knit, Ma’am?

It’s a solid gold, gift-wrapped, fur-lined ocean-going festival of punny witticisms for our glorious media. Headlines ranged from the Sydney Morning Herald’s “PM tried to knit herself out of the poll doldrums” to the Australian’s “Some yarn: Julia Gillard knits a royal roo”. Thank Dog Sue Lapperman still has her glorious sense of the absurd!

Former journalist and news presenter John Mangos was terribly serious:

“Julia knitting. Really? I am a strategic media consultant these days. And there is no way I would have approved of that.” 

He continued

 “I have nothing against knitting. Some of my best friends knit. I would rather my (Republican) Prime Minister try to run the country instead.”

Ignoring the condescendingly dull “some of my best friends are...” defence, John Mangos is not alone. Mumbrella is reporting that senior PR consultants have questioned the strategy behind the decision to feature this story in a women’s magazine. Out came the PR clichés, including “trying to appeal to women voters” as a possible motive for what they see as an ill-advised decision. PR bigwigs are asking what the PM’s PR team was hoping to gain with such a soft issue.

That question suggests to me that those PR boffins are as lacking in creativity and perspective as those employed in the Prime Minister’s Office, not to mention the gormless media they serve. Priming the Prime Minister to appeal to women voters specifically is so terribly 2010, darling, and I’d be embarrassed to run a campaign like that, particularly in this political environment where favouring one gender over another is considered bad form. I just don't think the strategy behind Knittinggate is that serious.

In all likelihood, come September 15, Julia Gillard will not be the Prime Minister and Tony Abbott will be. A bit of knitting isn’t going to change that, for better or worse. There is nothing that the PM can do in a simple magazine shoot that would change the electoral certainty, so let’s get real.

The cat’s out of the bag, guys. The Prime Minister is a woman, and she knits.

My problem isn’t with the placement of the feature, but with the stylists, who should be strangled with their own made-in-Bangladesh designer-patterned tights. It’s the kind of photo you’d expect to see if you gave your grannie a discount voucher for a Glamour Makeover and Photography session. It’s safe and entirely unremarkable. Why not an action shot of the PM as Wonder Woman jabbing her knitting needles into the temple of a Tony Abbott Doll? Seriously, this photo concept rivals raw porridge for sheer visual excitement.

Let’s flip this around. Let’s assume that Julia is Julian, male, childless and living at The Lodge with his partner Tina, a hairdresser. Julian has a suitably blokey hobby: he does a bit of woodwork now and then to relax. There’s an election in less than three months time, and the polls say that Julian is unelectable. Julian’s media advisor suggests a photo of the PM whittling a kangaroo for the royal baby. The shoot is cute, and it goes to print in GQ.

What’s the reaction to the photos of the PM, appropriately decked out for a Canberra winter, in a handknitted jumper and jeans, sitting in his workshop out the back of the Lodge, whittling?

Certainly not the national outbreak of knit-mocking that seems to have overtaken the country, or at least my twitter feed. It’s knitting. It’s a hobby. Barack Obama loves a quick game of basketball. The Queen breeds corgis. Tony Abbott likes sports that require lycra, and posing for photographs while wearing the lyrca. Similarly, John Howard was a track suit model. Condaleeza Rice plays piano, Sarah Palin shoots moose, and according to Pravda – yes, Pravda - Yulia Tymoshenko, the former Prime Minister of Ukraine, has a passion for high-end fashion.

And the suggestion that the Prime Minister Gillard should stop with the handicrafts and get back to her job of “trying to run the country”? Is he really suggesting that a Prime Minister shouldn’t have a hobby, lest it detract from her job? Let’s not think too much about what Mr Mangos might be revealing about himself with that comment.

But feel the outrage! Australia is twisting itself in knots because a PM with a terminal popularity deficit knits a bit.

If it was Julian Gillard at his workbench, surrounded by the earthy aromas of sawdust and accompanied by his pet dog, would the reaction from the PR industry, the media and the public be as overwhelming?

One thing is certain. If Julia was Julian, conservative commentator and National Cleavage Censor Grace Collier would have less to say. In fact, I still don’t understand why Ms Collier thinks that women should dress like men in order to be “properly dressed”. It’s a fashion statement that harks back to the trouser suits of the 70s. Hilary Clinton might be impressed, but I doubt it.

And that’s both the problem and the solution. We know the Prime Minister is a woman and for about half the population, that should still be a reason to celebrate. What’s the problem with letting her be a woman, taking the cutesy photo for what it is, and getting on with the real news of the day – none of which involves the leadership of the ALP.

By the way, the late Baroness Thatcher had no hobbies. None at all.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

I'm slightly ashamed to admit that I don't know what "feminism" means in my life. I've always considered myself to be an Equalist, yet this morning, a friend tweeted a link to a blog post that contained this:

My pet hate is when people (particularly women) say “I’m not feminist, I’m equalist.”  Sometimes they misuse the word “humanist” to mean the same thing as “equalist”.  This is more internalised misogyny, that need to be polite, pleasant and “fair” to men so that they don’t feel threatened by women demanding to be treated as human beings.  Again, as though fighting for women’s rights would be directly removing rights from men – which is a complete fallacy.  This shaming of feminism, as if it’s somehow harmful or unreasonable, is carefully nurtured by those who are against women having autonomy over their bodies and lives, and those seeds are sown in the minds of women so that they remain compliant and work to police other women.

On first reading, I knew that this definition of equalism held no resonance for me. My personal brand of equalism is far closer to the dictionary definition of feminism itself.

fem·i·nism   [fem-uh-niz-uhm]  noun
1. the doctrine advocating social, political, and all other rights of women equal to those of men
2. ( sometimes initial capital letter ) an organized movement for the attainment of such rights for women.
3. feminine  character.

Nevertheless, it meandered in and out of my mind throughout the day, leading me to question my stance on feminism. I wondered when then the concept of equalism had emerged, and why. What was wrong with 60s/70s era feminism anyway? 

I got interested in pop music around the same time as Helen Reddy sang (and co-wrote with a man), I Am Woman. I grew up hearing about bra-burning, Germaine Greer and the birth of Cleo. My single mother worked. Never in my life was there a question around the legitimacy of women in any sphere. 


Ten years later, feminism was a non-event, despite there being a long long way to go for so many members of the Sisterhood. It was as though the hard work had been done; that there was momentum enough to carry women upwards and through the glass ceiling, never to return. There wasn't, of course, but Women's Lib was taught as "history", not as Current Affairs, and Girls Just Wanna Have Fun was the anthem for the next generation. 


Still, radical feminism flourished in quiet corners, emerging once in a while to remind us where we came from. Subgroups formed, labels appeared and disappeared. Believe it or not, I came up with "equalist" all by myself and for myself,  in response to what I saw was a lumpy playing field.


Particularly uncomfortable for me was a trend to associate certain careers with a gender. Think of some careers, and the stereotype is male - mining, construction, front-line military, plumbing. Others generate images of women: teaching, nursing, public relations and human resources. Still other careers seem to encompass both genders equally, and others are moving from one to another. Very few career options are closed to either sex now.


But is this gender association in some career areas more than just a reflection of the gender-biased strengths of men and women? 


I believe it is. There is still a vast imbalance in the opportunities and rewards on offer to men and women. For some women, there's a choice between career and family that rarely bothers blokes, while for other women, motherhood is not a choice but an imperative. For the rest of us, each step towards the bloody glass ceiling is still a triumph over the perceived limitations that come with having a womb.


And for this reason, I am an equalist. No, make that an Equalist. It deserves the capitalisation. I love being a woman, but I do not want to be identified, associated with or limited by my ovaries. I want my place in society to be equal to that of a man. Not superior to, not in conflict with, not the same as a man, but equal. Equal in standing, equally respected, equally able to take advantage of an opportunity - not because of my gender, or in spite if my gender; irrespective of gender. 


That sounds pretty close to the dictionary definition of feminism to me, and it has nothing to with the description (above) in FatHephalump's blog.


And this is where I had planned to end this post.


But wait! Instead of a free set of steak knives, I bring you news from America, that land where the ERA (Equal Rights Amendment), first proposed in 1923, has never became law.


The Governor of Wisconsin, a medium-sized state known for cheese, has repealed its law which guarantees equal pay for women. Why? Because it means they can save the state some money by paying female public servants less than males. 


How has this been justified? Well, apparently it's more likely that men are the family breadwinners. Therefore, men need money more than women do, since they have families to support. A prominent Republican state senator explained, “You could argue that money is more important for men. I think a guy in their first job, maybe because they expect to be a breadwinner someday, may be a little more money-conscious. To attribute everything to a so-called bias in the workplace is just not true.”


I hope Tony Abbott never gets wind of this. In Australia, the gender pay gap is still around 17%, and a range of studies have found the determining factor in that gap to be gender-based discrimination. 


I think it's time to dust off my Helen Reddy LPs. We may have been liberated back in the 70s, but we're far from equal.