Women of letters

Editorial

Alison Barnes, NTEU National President

For Bluestocking Week each year, our South Australian Division hosts a dinner and fundraiser for the SA Working Women’s Centre, featuring guests speaking on topics ranging from climate change to educating workplaces about women’s need for support during periods of domestic violence. As the usual dinner couldn’t be held this year, we marked the week by inviting women to participate in a Women of Letters campaign, where union women write a short piece, or letter, talking about what education has meant to them, or their family, and how they see education as shaping their (or our) ability to respond to the environment created by COVID-19. Below is my personal contribution.

Dear Sisters,

As you may know, the Blue Stocking Society began as an informal association of women with the ‘revolutionary’ aspiration of discussing ideas beyond needlework or knitting.

It was an early incubator of feminism. And while its participants never discussed anything as gauche as ‘politics’ they certainly supported each other in all manner of intellectual activity.

They were renowned for openness and informality.

Hence the name – blue stockings were considered informal ‘day wear’ in the 1750s.

I suspect they would turn in their grave if they knew what informal wear was today – in the age of COVID-19 lockdown. Tracksuits probably wouldn’t cut it.

But I digress.

Perhaps more interesting is what these early agitators might make of women’s progress today, more than 270 years on.

Whether their hopes and aspirations tally with the world of today.

I suspect not.

In fact I suspect that’s true of everyone joining this discussion today. Women do march forward, but the pace of change is underwhelming.

It’s certainly been my experience.

Prior to maternity leave I had my most successful year of writing articles for journals.

And I naively assumed this could continue while I seamlessly incorporated care for an infant into my busy life.

I thought I could bash out some fresh research while the baby was sleeping. That searing insights would haunt me throughout my year of maternity leave as I took a sleepless Madeleine for walks.

I didn’t count on the way parenting – mothering – completely envelops your existence.

But of course it’s not about individuals. All of our structures – tax, welfare, workplace – are still built around the mother taking the role of primary caregiver in the early years of a child’s life.

And we know how this cascades through our professional lives.

In universities, we also seem to take on more of the ‘caring’ responsibilities.

Women, by and large, have larger teaching loads, and are in the majority in student support services.

At peak moments such as exams and essays, we are deluged with requests. Dealing with the needs of students can become a minute to minute proposition. Yet even here, systemic sexism pervades our working lives, with women academics trying to squeeze in research and publication while shouldering not only teaching and admin, but lives as carers too.

The pressure is not unique though, with women in professional, general and technical roles squeezed by workload pressures as well as a lack of opportunities for career progression.

It is also women who most often bear the brunt of redundancies.

At the same time this collides with our caring responsibilities outside the workplace.

Small wonder that we are published less often, earn smaller incomes, and receive fewer promotions. Indeed, both academic and professional/general staff women dominate the lower levels, even though higher education is a feminised industry. Unfortunately, COVID-19 is exacerbating these negative trends.

We are well on our way to the loss of more than 20 thousand jobs in higher education.

And women are impacted more than men when universities cut jobs.

Casual and contract positions always go first. And the emphasis is always on professional/general areas. Of course women are over-represented in all these categories.

When you combine this with the increased burden of caring duties in lock down and higher economic stress, women are feeling the brunt of the pandemic. And we are of course more exposed than ever to intimate partner and domestic violence.

All of this comes as the latest data shows an increase in the gender pay gap to 14%, with women earning $253.60 a week less than men.

The experience of women working in higher education is felt across the economy. More Australian women than men have lost jobs in this pandemic as feminised and insecure areas such as retail, hospitality, cleaning and other services quickly shed jobs.

It’s also no surprise that the health and safety of women has been more compromised serving as we do on the frontline of ‘essential services’ – such as health, aged care, disability services, teaching and food retail.

So while a crisis demands we triage our concerns, we must not forget that the progress of women is also essential. It’s not a luxury or some sort of expendable frippery, but a core principle that must be at the very centre of political and social debate and struggle.

Alison Barnes is NTEU National President and editor of Agenda. abarnes@nteu.org.au