Damsel 2017 by UWA Student Guild

DA M S E L

Important Resources WOMEN’S DEPARTMENT

YORGUM

Email: women@guild.uwa.edu.au FB: fb.com/UWAGuildWomens Location: 2nd Floor, Guild Hall

Yorgum provides a nurturing and safe place that promotes the strength and resilience of Aboriginal people through culturally appropriate healing.

PRIDE DEPARTMENT

Phone: (08) 9218 9477 Website: yorgum.org.au

Email: pride@guild.uwa.edu.au FB: fb.com/UWAStudentGuildPD Location: 2nd Floor, Guild Hall

HEADSPACE

ACCESS DEPARTMENT

Free youth health service for counselling and issues covering mental health, physical health, work and study support, and alcohol and other drug related services.

Email: access@guild.uwa.edu.au FB: fb.com/UWAStudentGuildAccess

Website: headspace.org.au

SEXUAL ASSAULT RESOURCE CENTRE (SARC)

LIFELINE

SARC provides support and emergency services for sexual assault and rape survivors. This includes medical care, advocacy, legal advice and counselling.

Free 24-hour crisis support and suicide prevention helpline, via phone and online chat service.

Phone: (08) 9340 1828

Phone: 13 11 14 Website: lifeline.org.au

MAITRI MULTICULTURAL COUNSELLING SERVICE

QLIFE

MAITRI seeks to meet the mental health needs of people from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds.

QLife is Australia’s first nationally-oriented counselling and referral service for LGBT+ people. Phone: 1800 184 527 Website: qlife.org.au

Phone: (08) 9328 2699 Website: mscwa.com.au/our-programs/maitrimental-health-services/

Contributors X: ART, O: WORDS AJ BRIAN O ANUKI JAGODAGE XO BRIDGET RUMBALL O CHLOE HYNES O CLAIRE CHUA O ELIZA BOWEN O ELIZA HUSTON O ELIZABETH SALMON O ELLA MCLEOD X

GABBY LOO X HANNEKA GERRITSEN X HOLLY JIAN X HOLLY PROTOOLIS O INDRA ROUX O LAURA BULLOCK XO LAVINIA KAILIS X LIBBY WEEDA O LUCIANO SPADONI X 2

MADDY COMPSTON O NATASHA CHERRY X SAMHA KHAN O SELINA BELL O SOFIA KOUZNETSOVA O SUSANNAH CHARKEY O ZEE IBRAHIM O

Inside Damsel 2 IMPORTANT RESOURCES 2 CONTRIBUTORS 4 FROM THE EDITORS

26 CHAPTER THREE

6 CHAPTER ONE CLAIRE CHUA SUSANNAH CHARKEY WORDS /

CLAIRE CHUA SUSANNAH CHARKEY WORDS /

ANUKI JAGODAGE ART

28 LOUD

8 AGEING IS FOR THE BRAVE

SAMHA KHAN WORDS / LAVINIA KAILIS ART

LIBBY WEEDA WORDS / LAURA BULLOCK ART

29 RECOVERY

10 I AM IN PERTH, WHERE IS SANTIAGO MALDONALDO?

CHLOE HYNES WORDS / LAURA BULLOCK ART

INDA ROUX WORDS / LUCIANO SPADONI ART

30 WHITE PEOPLE, STAND UP

12 SNAKE BASHING

ELIZA HUSTON WORDS / HOLLY JIAN ART

MADDY COMPSTON WORDS / LUCIANO SPADONI

32 WHOREPHOBIA

ART

SELINA BELL WORDS / LAVINIA KAILIS ART

13 ROLL INITIATIVE

34 WOKENESS

BRIDGET RUMBALL WORDS / HOLLY JIAN ART

ZEE IBRAHIM WORDS

14 TO JAB OR NOT TO JAB, IT SHOULDN’T BE A QUESTION

35 FORGET ME NOT GABBY LOO ART

HOLLY PROTOOLIS WORDS / LAURA BULLOCK ART

16 CHAPTER TWO

36 CHAPTER FOUR

CLAIRE CHUA SUSANNAH CHARKEY WORDS /

ANUKI JAGODAGE ART

18 WE ARE HERE

38 PRONOUN PARTICULARITY

ELIZABETH SALMON WORDS / NATASHA CHERRY

ELIZA BOWEN WORDS

ART

39 SAME SEX, SAME RIGHTS

19 WHO AM I?

ELIZABETH SALMON WORDS

CLAIRE CHUA WORDS

40 STAY

20 I DON’T LIKE THE WAY YOU LOOK

CHLOE HYNES WORDS / LAURA BULLOCK ART

RANA MASSOUDI WORDS / ELLA MCLEOD ART

42 UN///SEX ME HERE

22 CLOSET OF AN AUDIOLOGIST

LAURA BULLOCK WORDS

LAURA BULLOCK WORDS/ART

43 UNTITLED

23 ATLAS WAS A WOMAN

ELIZABETH SALMON WORDS / HANNEKA

AJ BRIAN WORDS / LAURA BULLOCK ART

GERRITSEN ART

23 OH! I’D BUY MY NYCTOPHOBIA BACK

44 HUMANS OF PRIDE

ANUKI JAGODAGE WORDS

TONIA CURBY PHOTOGRAPHS

24 UNTITLED SOFIA KOUZNETSOVA WORDS / ELLA MCLEOD ART

DAMSEL MAGAZINE IS AN ANNUAL PUBLICATION OF THE UWA STUDENT GUILD WOMEN’S DEPARTMENT 3

From The Editors

Bridget WORDS

Claire WORDS

Laura WORDS/ART

When I was ten, I ‘published’ my only trilogy of ‘novels’. They were lovingly illustrated, hand bound with ribbon and very, very badly written. Each book followed three female generations of magic super-spies, who solved mysteries together. Something about powerful women defying gravity and doing the impossible must have stuck with me ever since then; editing, creating and publishing Damsel this year as part of an awesome team of writers, artists and editors has again proved that women and non-binary people are nothing short of incredible. I hope we do their magic a little bit of justice.

The other day, I had the opportunity to watch Hypatia. I don’t know if my words will do it justice. It reminded me of all the untold stories of those who have come before us and battled both in silence and out loud, to fight for a better world and better lives. My only hope is for this year’s edition of Damsel to evoke a similar feeling in readers. To remind you that you’re not alone, and that your battles are not futile. I’d also love to thank the fabulous group of editors who have worked tirelessly through uni and holidays to deliver to you what is tangible in your hands (or online) right now. Much love to all x

When I finally hunted down a copy of Damsel early this year, I devoured it on the bus trip home. This year has been maybe the most instrumental and healing year in my life; I pushed myself and grew, I performed slam poetry and there met passionate and amazing women and non-binary friends who cared about the same things, I discovered my Deaf community and began learning sign language. I found myself, and I realised how much I desperately needed something made for me. Here’s to all the other queerdos, genderfunky butches, and deafies who’ve been looking for themselves all their lives.

RUN AWAY WITH ME

NUMBER ONE

IN THE MORNING

CARLY RAE JEPSEN

TOVE STYRKE

NAO

Hannah 2017 WOMEN’S OFFICER Look, in last year’s Damsel I promised this year my bio would not be terrible and rushed at the last minute. That was a lie. The editing team has done a wonderful job and I’m very proud of them. Enjoy the magazine!

TBH, MORE OF A PODCAST GIRL.

Ishita WORDS

Holly WORDS/ART

Samha WORDS

Reading has provided solace to me and I’ve always wanted to give that same feeling back to other readers. Damsel has been a gift to me, a chance to step outside my comfort zone, a way to learn more about being a feminist, and a conduit to meeting so many wonderful women and non-binary people. I hope that reading this edition of Damsel gives you the same feeling of love and delight that I have received from running the online blog, and compiling the print edition. I hope each turning page sparks a revolution within your heart.

Last year was one of the shittiest years of my life - I had never quite abandoned myself so completely as last winter. Damsel was one of the things that eased me into growing again. Being surrounded by a circle of such passionate, loving and creative people can be nothing short of healing. I hope that this year’s edition gives you the same catharsis, the same sense of being seen and heard, and of having a place. I hope that you are by turns angered, moved and warmed as you journey through these pages, and I send all my love to the creators that made this year’s edition possible.

So, apparently this magazine is run by incredible smart and insightful people. Who would’ve thought? Not last-year-me, actually. I discovered Damsel on Facebook at 3am one night/ morning, thinking about how long it had been since I wrote something, or even talked about writing. I am so lucky to have stumbled upon the miracle that is this magazine, and got to work on something as iconic as this. Here’s to all the lost people; I hope you find your way home, like I have, to words.

GIRL ON FIRE

WONDERING

RHYTHM NATION

ALICIA KEYS

XIU XIU

JANET JACKSON

Chapter One CW: GENDERED SLURS, ABUSE

Once upon a time, in Sellador. The way fairytales begin, yet not the way they end. Here, there’s an air that reeks, that pulses bright; where red eyes poke through willow trees and people saunter, muted glances silently ricocheting back and forth. This is how it began. One memory after another. * Ayeesha wanted to see the world. And she wondered, at times, whether she was the only one who did. Sometimes people loved relying on things they heard, and they couldn’t decipher truth from lie, tangible fact from fiction. Ayeesha learnt that she should see the world through every facet that she had: sight and sound, love and forgiveness, touch and understanding. Her ears never made her any weaker - it made her more receptive. To everything. On days like this, she wanted to be out here. Pause it like a moment. Capture it like a picture. Where the wind sang, and the sun lilted through parting clouds; where everything felt alive. The palace felt like a different world altogether - covered in moss, lingering dust. There was something that decayed, something writhing and slithering through walls, and in-between doors. It happened like this: words that ran on shallow, superficial levels, but meanings that burrowed deeper. How the Emperor would say yes, mean no. Fine china smashing during bursts of rage, how fractured pieces were strewn across floors like outstretched palms. She was a bitch in the palace, an empress everywhere else. It is that simple, he’d write, that simple. * And just like a memory, it dissipated.

The Empress SOCIAL JUSTICE

Ageing Is For The Brave CW: GENITALS, TRANSMISOGYNY

LIBBY WEEDA WORDS / LAURA BULLOCK ART are not valued as much as men’s, and they are much less likely to be promoted.

My friend is a “spinster”. She didn’t marry and she doesn’t have children because she never wanted to. Gen (let’s call her) has a family of feisty, fabulous women. Her cooking would bring Matt Preston to his knees, her tongue could slash any politician, and her mind is that of a brilliant scientist. She is a total, utter inspiration. However, to many, she is invisible. Gen isn’t slim, sexy, sixteen – she’s well into her seventies. The patriarchy stamps a ‘best before’ date on women, and just like that, when you’ve outgrown the male gaze and your reproductive years, women are supposed to wrap themselves in muted, baggy florals or beige, and melt into the background. Ageism disproportionately affects women; this is reflected in the workplace, the dismissal of older women’s issues and limitations on their participation in society, and scarily, maybe even in feminism. Well, sorry, but we shouldn’t put on the cloak of invisibility.

So why is this the case? A participant in the Uni of Melbourne study succinctly summarised one of the reasons for this gender disparity; “a woman [when she ages] becomes invisible… we’re not as attractive, physically”. That is, once women have aged beyond their reproductive years, and they no longer are seen as desirable by the male gaze, the patriarchal society dismisses their value. Older women are also seen as “threatening” – studies have found them to be less likely to blindly follow rules, have greater life experience, and more likely to stand up for their beliefs and values compared with their younger peers. One might think that this would be rewarded, but apparently not – no man wants to be told off by his mother. Another contributing factor to age discrimination for women in the workplace is that women carry the lion’s share of the caretaking burden in families; this is not limited to child-care, but as women age, they are often expected to provide the bulk of the care for ailing parents and spouses (why can’t you put this on your CV? or get paid?) This limits their employability in institutions that are mostly designed by and for men.

A 2016 study published by the University of Melbourne investigating age-related workplace discrimination found that older employees were (alarmingly) seen as “rusty, invisible and threatening”. Women are affected by ageism in the workplace more than men – the Australian Human Rights Commission found that older women were more likely to be perceived as “having outdated skills, being too slow to learn new things or as someone who would deliver an unsatisfactory job”, compared with men. This really stings when contrasted with the fact that grey hair and wrinkles on a man often signify power, experience and authority, as found by the same study. Additionally (as if this wasn’t already enough), women were more likely to be psychologically affected by age discrimination. The consequence of this discrimination is that older women are under-employed, their skills

The invisibility that shrouds older women is also seen in the silence surrounding cisgender women’s medical issues as they age. How much do you know about prolapse? Or atrophic vaginitis? Physical decline and disability increases as you age – and women are often poorly equipped with inadequate knowledge about how to manage these issues and the services available to them. The World Health Organisation (WHO) recognises that there is a health disparity between women and men, and

that this disadvantage is increased even more significantly in older women. Older women are generally poorer than their male and younger counterparts; this contributes to less access to health care. Additionally, the WHO found that in developed and developing countries, costcutting health care reform has a double negative effect on women; they have less access, and have extra care burdens placed on them as their family members are discharged earlier from hospital. Socially, the sexist constructs that shroud menopause and prevent women from being supported while transitioning into another life phase is another enormous issue. The ageing Australian population means that an increasing number of women will suffer from this ageism. The intersection between ageism and sexism is clear in the taboo surrounding many of older women’s issues.

arguments, she is an incredible, formidable force that has championed intersectionality and issues for women of colour. She also raises several serious points for discussion. So how come she has been brushed away with “she’s of her generation?” Painting previous waves of feminism with broad strokes and generalising away older feminists – that does the work of patriarchy.

Undoubtedly feminism has changed since the sixties, and some older feminists make comments or arguments that are discordant with contemporary views, reflecting their personal context where intersectionality and/ or the experiences of non-binary people were not a focus – something that simply just is not ok in today’s world. For example, Germaine Greer’s transphobic comments about Caitlyn Jenner’s Glamour Women of the Year Award.

In another way, this dismissal could be seen as an extension of the reduced value placed on older women by society. If we are honest, how often do older women’s issues take prominence in current feminism that often focuses on the work of celebrities or reproductive rights that fall distinctly into the younger woman’s realm? I have learnt so much from the wonderful older women in my life, and been inspired to be a loud-and-proud feminist by them – it would be outrageously good if that could happen on a larger scale! Two-way learning (cross-culturally, cross-generationally) could greatly benefit feminism.

On the flipside, prominent intersectional feminist bell hooks came under fire from many younger feminists following her critique of Beyoncé’s Time magazine cover and later, Lemonade. hooks criticised Beyoncé’s sexualised images, asserting that “[Beyoncé] is colluding in the construction of herself as a slave”, and describes Lemonade as “fantasy feminism” that “does not call for an end to patriarchal domination”. While you may not agree with all of hook’s

I am in Perth, but where is Santiago Maldonado? CW: ENFORCED DISAPPEARANCE, DEATH, VIOLENCE, ABUSE

INDRA ROUX WORDS / LUCIANO SPADONI ART hectares of Patagonia - an area comparable to the size of Lebanon.

Where is Santiago Maldonado? This is the question that has been plaguing the hearts and minds of countless Argentinians since August. However, if you are Australian, this might be the first time you have ever heard of a name that has sparked nationwide protests and a call for justice.

And how has United Colours of Benetton, a clothing brand located in the collective imagination as righton, progressive and inclusive, answered? Benetton has prioritised the company’s right to the private property of the land while suing the Mapuches for attempting to assert their ancestral claims, even when the lands in question were not being put to use. Nonetheless, Benetton would be powerless to resist Mapuche occupation without the collaboration of the Argentine State.

28-year-old backpacker Santiago Maldonado was seen for the last time on August 1st, in a roadblock on a Patagonian local route (located in the south of Argentina), where the traditional owners of the land, the Mapuches, were claiming ancestral territory. Santiago did not belong to the Pu Lof Mapuche community, but knew people who belonged to it and empathised with their cause. That day, around one hundred Border Patrol officers (gendarmerie) violently repressed the protest; it is theorised that the gendarmerie forcibly took Maldonado. Though security forces potentially abducting a citizen is extremely concerning, this is not the first altercation of this type between the Argentinian state and the Mapuche people.

The Argentine constitution emphatically states the rights of Mapuche to their ancestral lands, as well as aiming “to recognize the ethnic and cultural pre-existence of the Argentine Indigenous peoples.” However, the neo-liberal ideology of local governments has driven the prioritisation of Benetton’s private interests over the stated rights and desires of the indigenous Mapuches. The state’s complicity with Benetton’s interests was thrown into the spotlight with the disappearance of Santiago Maldonado, through the multiple attempts of the government and the monopolised media to cover up the events.

To understand the current situation, it is important to examine the origins of the Mapuche land conflicts. Historians estimate that the Mapuches have lived in Patagonia for 13 000 years, but during the Spaniard Colonisation they were systematically expropriated from their lands and reduced to poverty. The darkest episode was in the end of the nineteenth century, when the already independent Argentine State massacred many populations and gave their lands to British settlers. At the end of the last century, liberal politics and free market policies allowed the massive sale of these lands to international capitalists. In particular, the lands claimed by the Pu Lof Mapuche community legally belongs to Italian businessman Luciano Benetton, who owns a total of 900 000

During the weeks following the 1st of August, Maldonado’s relatives called for the truth, which shed light on the fact that the order to repress the Mapuche protest was made by the National Ministry of Defense, making the State’s responsibility into his disappearance even bigger. The government response was dismissive - being on the defensive and feeding alternative theories about Maldonado’s destination, and criminalising the Mapuche protest. In a desperate attempt to save its image, the

to carry out an integral and exhaustive search. Finally, independent mediums and academics have played a key role in popularising information otherwise hidden by the government-aligned media outlets and refuting false information about the Mapuche’s story. In the last few weeks there has been a twist in the State response towards the case, as it is now being investigated as a forced disappearance and investigations have been opened into the gendarmerie. This is still far from admitting any responsibility in the violent repressions towards the Mapuches, as the government is focusing on “isolated agents” of the armed forces that could have intervened. Another significant development is the change of the Judge on the case, who was removed after it was revealed that he was biased against the interests of the Mapuches. government also prohibited discussing the Maldonado case in educational institutions, arguing that it would be political propaganda. This effort to move the spotlight was supported by mainstream media, which demonised the protest and created an external enemy in the Mapuche by showing a distorted view of their interests. In this context, social networks led the social protest demanding the live reappearance of Santiago Maldonado. From the first weeks of August, the entirety of the Argentinian virtual world has been inundated with messages of “I am in (place), but where is Santiago Maldonado?”. Organised by the Maldonado family and multiplied by various social networks, thousands and thousands of people marched on the 1st of September, calling for a serious and impartial investigation of the case by the State. The Maldonado case sparked great outrage as it echoes the events that took place during the last dictatorship, a dark moment of Argentine history when people were being systematically disappeared. Additionally, multiple human rights organisations such as the United Nations and Amnesty International have urged the authorities

The massive repercussions of the Maldonado case in Argentinian political life also makes us notice how the Mapuches’ historical conflict was not on the agenda until the victim was a white middle class man. This is an indicator not only of the historic lack of empathy with and commitment to the Mapuches, which is also reflected in the same treatment of the Mapuches in Chilean Patagonia, but also with all the groups of Indigenous traditional land owners in different parts of the country. This month on social media, writing “I am in Perth, but where is Santiago Maldonado?”, allowed this distant, historic claim from the other side of the world to be sounded with an increased urgency and relevance. It let me understand that the structural problems that traditional land owners are facing in my country are not that far away from the struggles of many Western Australian traditional owners. Whether we look at the Argentinean Patagonia or the Nyoongar land upon which we stand, the debate for the use and propriety of land, and the validity of traditional owners’ claims, are more than ever a mandatory task.

Snake Bashing CW: BLOOD, BODY PARTS

MADDY COMPSTON WORDS / LUCIANO SPADONI ART First it was Slytherin Darkening our qualities, casting a shadow over them, so as to make us appear evil. Cunning, speed, ruthlessness; a heartless approach stemming from the fact that our blood is not warmed We are cold-blooded, yes but our hearts beat. Why do you humans belittle the strengths that make us good hunters? Why do you make it an insult to be like a snake? â&#x20AC;&#x153;Viperâ&#x20AC;? you say to describe a spiteful or treacherous person Sometimes cunning requires treachery to ensure survival. Should not these qualities, these traits that make us so dangerous be admirable? Can we not be loved for our success? Perhaps it is envy that directs such scorn In which case, this judgment is not a reflection of us, but of you. Yes, we are swift, but not like Taylor. Yes, we are devious, but not like Slytherin. We will bite when provoked, as will all things. We are not evil. We are powerful. It is an honor to be like a snake.

Roll Initiative CW: RAPE, VIOLENCE, GENDERED SLURS

BRIDGET RUMBALL WORDS / HOLLY JIAN ART he staggers towards you moving with drunken step a lunging demagorgon, chaotic evil, as he one-two-action surges against you; a roll against armour class (one-dee-twenty) that hits, and hits well, causing a loss of health and a wealth of pain as he gets away. the officer, dragon-born, true neutral, notes down details of your failed dexterity and constitution saves as a tiefling cleric heals, listening to your retelling with cynicism; like a teacher scolding a student they cast cantrip ‘reassert blame’ (two-dee-eight critical) as they say astutely, pen in claw ‘well, you were asking for it’. the jury, a five headed hydra, sings ‘she was drunk and dressed like a whore’ the elfish judge, lawful good casts ‘moral character’ (two-dee-six, advantage) using his sports scholarship to set him free, whilst reducing your health to nil; unconsciously floating between astral and material between blame and guilt between trauma and dissociation, no alternative better than the other. whether, in fact, you make it out of this campaign alive depends on three things; the weighted scales of Tyr, (tipped ever in his favour) the fateful thread of Mother Istus, (never strung across his path) and the outcome of a death save; roll again, roll again, roll again.

To Jab or Not To Jab, It Shouldn’t Be a Question CW: ABLEISM

HOLLY PROTOOLIS WORDS / LAURA BULLOCK ART

education outcomes. This is a select group of white, privileged, rich individuals who rely on social media and media-based education (rather than evidencebased) because they are so entitled that they believe two hours on Google is the same as years of training and school.

To start out, let me make some things perfectly clear: no, vaccines are in no way associated with or causative of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), Big Pharma is not paying doctors the big bucks to inject poison into your children (and into themselves!), and you do not have the “right” to make “any choice” you like for your children. You can choose to do many things with your children – but the limit stops at making choices that affect the entire community and have been proven to affect their health. Your one friend Barbara from down the road who hasn’t been vaccinated but “is fine!!!” is not equivalent to years of documented peer reviewed studies repeated globally.

I’ve been studying health science in some form for almost six years now at a tertiary level and Big Pharma has never come to offer me money to lie about vaccine safety. Disappointing really! I wish I could tell you that anti-vaccination is new, or even original. At least then we might have some chance of finding a neat solution to this issue. But it’s the same issue, the old issue – an increasing trend in anti-intellectualism and an increasing level of entitlement based on privilege. There are few issues in society I can think of that cannot be easily attributed to these two things. Sometimes I think people must be super bored to come up with these insane conspiracy theories – although that implies premeditation.

That all being said, this isn’t an article debating the worth or safety of vaccines. If you’re interested in that, check the CDC or NCIRS (for Australian reports). It’s not hard. If we are to contain this looming public health crisis, we must evaluate its root causes as well as the privilege of those involved – after all, when you’ve lived your whole life in a country with herd immunity against illnesses that used to devastate communities and countries, you’re not going to be able to see the bigger picture on why vaccines are important. To add to this notion, a 2005 study found that antivaccination attitudes are associated with families that are well-educated and middle or upper class. Thus, this is not a phenomenon that can be blamed on a low socioeconomic status resulting in poor

Upper class white people feel that any minor infringement on their “rights” (such as mandatory vaccination, insisting your child has chemo for his cancer that no healing crystal is gonna fix etc.) is a reason to kick up a fuss and cry “oppression”. White people, why are you so desperate to be oppressed? If it were simply a case of people having never seen illnesses such as polio or measles, this movement

might be easier to tackle. We can show people photos, videos and data galore. Have you ever heard a baby with whooping cough? That was enough to redouble my belief in vaccination forever; it’s haunting. There have been multiple studies where this has been attempted however and although there is some improvement, anti-vaccination attitudes prevail. This is often due to people believing that the probability of their children catching these diseases is “rare” and it won’t happen to them. However, outbreaks of measles in Australia alone are becoming more common and there have been several highprofile media cases where young babies have died after being exposed to whooping cough. In the face of mounting evidence, even those who have drunk the Jenny McCarthy Kool-Aid should be catching on by now that this whole thing is a total sham. I mean, she promotes products that cost a hundred times more than any vaccine but tries to say Big Pharma is taking your money?! Come on. Of course, the reason anti-vaxxers are still around is the same reason - the oldest reason. The same reason people voted for Trump, the same reason people vote “no” in the marriage equality plebiscite, and the same reason people deny climate change despite rising temperatures and increasing natural disasters – because they are privileged people who cannot comprehend the magnitude of their effect on others. They are fiercely individualistic in principle (e.g. “MY child MY choice!!!”), yet conversely act as a hive mind spouting the same nonsense every single time. Even when anti-vaxxers fund their own studies into vaccine safety that prove it to be safe – they disagree with the results. Which would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic. I wish I could conclude this article with something more hopeful than “we’re working on it!” but I can’t. The way the world is going in regard to anti-science, anti-evidence rhetoric is troubling. All I can do is encourage everyone challenge this kind of behaviour any way they can. A startling amount of people remain friends with anti-vaxxers because they are in that same socioeconomic group and in their own way, do not understand the impact this behaviour has on others. Don’t be that person. Check your privilege, vaccinate your kids, and use evidence – not media hysteria – to make your choices.

Chapter Two

and nestled there, glancing out the window of this top tower. The bright sun overhead, the brooding soil underneath. Sellador was a place to see, not to touch.

Another memory, another daydream. It fit into place, piece by piece. The past reconstructed itself. *

It might’ve been a minute, it might’ve been an eternity.

Some said the spiralling cathedral housed a valiant creature.

Su Li looked up, in her palm a piece of paper. She slid it to Ayeesha.

Acrylic nails and a silent prayer to the gods. That was what Su Li was. This was where she always was: dawdling, bent over tea leaves and splayed palms when she was busy. Long, black hair concealing her face as she leant over. A velvet set of blood red, embossed tarot cards dispersed alongside. When Ayeesha came to see her, she’d nearly always be silent - deep in thought as if her physical form manifested in this world, but really, she existed somewhere else altogether. Sometimes, she wondered if this was Su Li’s favourite thing to do. But today, she sat, feet crossed on a tiled floor, nails painted scarlet. Probably her second most favourite thing to do. She idled there, deep in quiet, solitary concentration, trying to drag the brush perfectly over her nails. Trying not to spill the ink.

He’s no good, you know. Ayeesha turned away from the window, glancing over to Su Li. She was sat there, curiously perched over her bottle of polish as she examined the bottle. Her best friend, the strings that supported her. Conversations at the cathedral were like this: tranquil, quiet. Spoken word was only a medium - there were other ways to talk. She paused for a moment, grabbed the pencil that rolled at her feet. Sometimes, I believe him, Su. Sometimes I think it’s me. Su Li shook her head, rose. There was the clang of a myriad of trinkets that hung from her neck, her wrists, her ankles. She sat herself down next to Ayeesha, and immediately Ayeesha set her head down on Su Li’s shoulder.

When Ayeesha saw this, she didn’t want to break the silence. After all, this was what she lived with sometimes. And for a kingdom that revelled in clamour at midnight and festivities at dawn, she always appreciated this sanctuary. Sometimes, she wondered if Su Li knew.

It’s not you, I can assure you of that. But what else do I have?

She didn’t have to announce her presence. Even without looking up, the High Priestess knew she was there. Softly, she shuffled to the corner. The familiarity of this place, the smell of tea tree oil draped over every piece of furniture, every animate and inanimate creature. Ayeesha gladly sunk into its embrace. She found solace in a soft cushion,

You have you, Ayeesha. She turned, stared at her, midnight eyes and a burning sun. Also me. * And just like that, another memory faded. The passage of time slipped.

The High Priestess IDENTITY AND EMPOWERMENT

We Are Here CW: SEXUAL ASSAULT, VIOLENCE TOWARDS WOMEN, VICTIM BLAMING, DEATH, HARASSMENT

ELIZABETH SALMON WORDS / NATASHA CHERRY ART and we’ve been fighting all our lives since birth, day one, every hour, every year, centuries, back to back, life to life, every story.

who says we haven’t been fighting a war out of sight, behind closed doors by word of mouth and strength of soul who says that’s worth less than swords and coal

fighting for our lives against the microaggressions, the questions the ‘are sure you know what you’re doing? don’t strain yourself, let someone else’

whispers in the ears of like-minded people a nod, a wink, acknowledgement, agreement centuries to be told “i guess you’re a person too” - sorry i thought we were exchanging known facts, not new

fighting for the right to be alive it’s not on the news cos the news doesn’t care, that the founders of this movement are missing, dying trans women, black women, sapphic women. Gone.

another hundred and five ‘til we’re good for something more than just a wife at least in their eyes decades before “you can wear what you want - just don’t be late” we don’t need your permission, mate

fighting all our lives for the right to be alive you swing your swords and load your guns we own our thoughts, don’t hold our tongues

“-but don’t wear that if you want this job” “-but don’t wear that if you want respect” “-but don’t wear that if you want to survive the night”

who says we haven’t been fighting a war? we stand on shoulders of the giants who have come before battles have been won but the war’s not over we are warriors, we burn like supernovas.

and it’ll be our fault our fault our fault for failing when it was you who couldn’t keep your eyes off our thighs

Who Am I? CW: RACISM, BODY PARTS, ABUSE

CLAIRE CHUA WORDS

commodity. Slut-shaming ensued. I became a zoo animal: good to look at, not good enough to care about. I’d been out of the loop for a while now, and a while was long enough to forge a chasm between me and them. There was a strange disconnect between the two, as if there were a break between the neurons that fired in my brain.

I think one of my flaws is that I’m someone who can be very hard on herself. When I’m down, I like to hunker down even further. Deep down, I can be a perfectionist. So, naturally, when I moved to Perth I was on a mission to build myself back up. The cracks in my personality, ones that hadn’t shown before, were suddenly appearing in this new change of life, this new angle of light. What struck me when I first moved here was the stark difference in values.

There has been no turning point to my life. No sudden upheaval, no precipice. There has been no moment where the skies have parted, and the rain has stopped and the gravity has loosened its pull on me. There has, however, been a constant uphill battle. There is always a time and place to be vulnerable, and there is always a right to be angry and disappointed and frustrated. That’s how life pokes at you, reminds you that you’re a culmination of miracles and sweat and blood running in rivulets. A face, slightly worn by years of torment. You’re the way struggle manifests into bones, and the way love fluoresces through drooping eyes and inbetween wordless touches. And you’re worth it, every damn time.

I’ve never been the most secure person, and this new slew of flaws in my reflection really bothered me. Almost like I’d been newly damaged in some way, simply by being put in a new light. I was never pretty enough, being pelted by shitty, unrealistic western standards of beauty. From them I’ve heard my fair share of racial slurs, mental and verbal abuse. I’ve spent days plucking at my own skin in the mirror, prodding at it as if asking a question: ‘Who am I?’ Would I say the right things? Would I be understood? How do you walk up to your mother and ask her why you look in the mirror and see a question staring back at you? This kind of racism is something I like to think of as more internalised, more mental, more silent.

Who am I? It’s been a question that has sunken and settled into the ground for a while now. Do I know the answer now? No. Will I ever know the answer? Maybe. What I do know is that every day, I strive to become a little stronger, work a little harder, love and listen a bit more. I’ll live in my little grey area, burrowing through the thin lines of merging binaries. But will they let me?

Returning back home, I’d feel strangely out of place. Despite having lived there for most of my life, the buildings turned backs on me, vines emerged, consuming my favourite places. The hawker centres, the nightlife, the buzz of people. Dust began to settle on the turf, and clouds spooled out of every moment. Even with friends, at times, I went from being the life of every conversation to being deathly silent. People I’d known stared at me now like I was a

Just kidding, I don’t care either way.

I Don’t Like The Way You Look CW: GENDERED SLURS, SLUT SHAMING, BODY IMAGE ISSUES

RANA MASSOUDI WORDS / ELLA MCLEOD ART

That magazine tells you you’re not thin enough. It whispers to you to buy the new product that makes your skin flawless. It illustrates how tiny your waist should be. It manipulates you into believing that size nothing is the only size of worth, when the truth it is right there in the name - nothing.

I don’t like the way you look. A powerful statement, thrown around much too liberally. Look in the mirror. Stop the obsessing and the primping; don’t analyse or fix - just stop and look. Who is she? Really? Is she a pair of fake lashes and gold shadow? Is she black liner and red lipstick? Is she not presentable for society yet? Is she…

I don’t like the way I look. The mirror feels empty when she looks at it now. She does not see anything. There used to be someone there, staring back at her, challenging her, reflecting her, inside and out. Who is she? She used to be a fairy, a firefighter, an astronaut. She used to be her own person. She wanted to be strong, to be smart, to be respected. There was a time where the only thing she wanted from her future was a sense of accomplishment and there was time where accomplishment wasn’t explained by a number on a scale. Now…

Why are they all being defined by what is just in that mirror? That colour doesn’t look good on you sweetie, you should change. I don’t think that this dress is sending the right signals; don’t want people thinking you’re a slut. Dress code states that you must cover your shoulders otherwise boys could get distracted. Why is his education more important than hers? I don’t like the way you look. He said that most times that they talked. The first man that she ever knew and all he did was ridicule her appearance. Her sister said it just before important events, but she was just joking and she loves her so it shouldn’t impact her. Everyone she knows thinks she should change. That she should fix what they are telling her are her imperfections. Who is that girl staring back at her in the mirror? She isn’t sure anymore.

What does she even look like now? It’s constantly changing. Nothing about her is permanent. Nothing about her is her own. She can’t answer that question anymore. She copies and changes but she cannot answer that simple question. Who is she?

Closet of an Audiologist CW: BLOOD, BODY PARTS, PROFANITY, DEATH

LAURA BULLOCK WORDS / ART

i. Mangled wire wreath presses on skull, twisted spires sprawling heavenward; wilted roses tracing the circlet. You tug to remove it but it won’t budge & your fingers come away baptised in richest, blackened blood & you can’t see or hear through the veil it forms & your congealed lungs peel from hollowed ribs, slapping in a sudden absence of breath. Here is the child bride of a stifling earth where if you can’t hear, you’re fucked. ii. The old analogue television plays in your dreams. Sometimes, your family appears in a shaky fugue, laughing. Sometimes, a slow trickle of scarlet cascades – seeping out through cracks in the screen you don’t ever remember & your mother appears, blood weeping from mouth & tracing tombstone teeth. She bleeds into pixel static & you’re in a room alone & alone & alone & your heavy-laden bones feel the prickly deafening drone of static creep up your legs & across the flesh of your ribs but it never reaches your ears.

iii. Your mother appears again on small screen & you read the scream erupting from fetid & gaping mouth, like a book you don’t ever want to read & the smirk in her pallid eyes as they watch you, a nightmare set to 1080p on repeat on repeat on repeat & the snarl on her bloodied lips afterwards. You read them, and they say “it gets easier” & it never does & you want to scream “how would you know” but there’s no use in howling to an insentient screen. iv. People hear your perfect English voice & ask “where are you from?” I was born in the closet of an audiologist and I haven’t been the same since.

Atlas Was A Woman

I am Atlas and Atlas was a woman She who holds up our society Even when it crumbles beneath us And receives nothing in return But pain and hardship and humiliation. She who is the forebear of man The only reason they can exist To push her down With the weight of the world.

AJ BRIAN WORDS / LAURA BULLOCK ART

I am Atlas and Atlas was a woman A woman tricked into ‘her place’ Her so called place Where men come to watch her struggle But Atlas no longer cares for the world of men. She has held up this world for long enough And Atlas is done.

Oh! I’d Buy My Nyctophobia Back ANUKI JAGODAGE

stars and space that lay within it. Yet, regardless of the overwhelming beauty she could see within this small pocket of the universe, it would always be the presence, the stark reality of the ground and the world, upon which her feet stood, that would baffle her the most.

I think of how as a child, reality had driven me insane. As easily as one might be frightened by the possibility of creatures in the dark. In truth, I grew to miss and long for these brief episodes of fear installed within my very core as the lights grew dim and my surroundings silent. I would miss the undoubtable belief I had in my imagination and the indulgence I allowed myself within these fantasies. How they morphed and manipulated the peace and serenity of the night time, the night sky. For, as I grew older it became impeccably clear that it would not be the dancing shadows nor the murmurs of the wind that would cause my naïve self to cower from the darkness and seek out any small ounce of light. The animalistic shapes and the voices in the surroundings, that had once caused these moth like tendencies, were seen now only as feeble attempts by a child too late to realise the gradual and toxic nature of reality in itself.

The child from this moment on would not ponder in fascination upon the thoughts of fairies, goblins or mysterious beings to explore the planets with, in a timeless void. But rather, her mind would brim with the unexpected realisation of the possibility of the truth; the wretchedness, the greed and the intensities of what she now viewed as a deeply corrupt world. Ultimately my insanity is unreasonable. It would be as if it were conventional to grow ill from an influx of mundane objects; too many clothes in a closet or pens in a package. But to a child an influx of racism, judgement and unjust segregation would seem less like the nature of this world and rather more like the demons that once plagued her night skies.

And so if this child were to gaze up into the night sky, unburdened by the possibility of a great beast or a sly villain, she would be free to explore the distance of her sight and the seeming endlessness of the

Untitled CW: SELF HARM, BODY PARTS

SOFIA KOUZNETSOVA WORDS / ELLA MCLEOD ART Trace the meandering scoliosis of my spine hills of asymmetrical back rolls the bump the lumps the scars the peaks and valleys Follow the stretch marks as they connect and deviate sometimes red sometimes white sometimes dark sometimes light Touch my succulent eyebags feel them under layers of concealer a self-inflicted scar beneath jeans thinning between the thighs I am not beautiful despite I am beautiful because I am mountains I am rivers I am forests I am a natural force you cannot control I am whole I am unshakeable your words will not erode me

Chapter Three CW: VIOLENCE, FIRE

Until she stood, settled against the doorframe of the Emperor’s room. Her head rested against the wood, and she looked into the room.

Time, at times, was not linear. It sputtered, faltered, wavered. Ayeesha dreamt of it as if it were yesterday. Yet, it must’ve been a lifetime away. Memories were funny things.

This world was alight.

Heat radiated off everything that the fire could grasp with angry fingers. The bed frame, the drawers, the curtains. Long, white fingers scratched at walls, peeling, scarring wallpaper. Mutilating this odd place that never felt like home.

The Empress breathed in, out. This was the plan. She’d struck a single match. One that Su Li had given her. It was no normal match; when she’d struck it, it’d glowed with a single, white flame. It sat, silent and still.

And the Emperor, trembling in the midst of it all. Nothing had to be said. Immediately, when he saw her, untouched by the slender columns of fire, his eyes widened. Maybe in shock, maybe in realisation. She leant on the frame, staring silently. With an annoying perseverance, he tried to get to her. Touched the flame that roared around him, a cage around an animal. He was yelling something at the top of his lungs, flailing his arms. Something that, to Ayeesha, sounded like a lazy murmur. Compliments? Profanities? She couldn’t tell. Probably the latter.

Don’t underestimate it, Su Li had written on a piece of paper. Do it for yourself. And then, closest to the Emperor’s quarters, Ayeesha let it fall. This was the result. Flame. Slithering, softly trickling, immutable and karmic. It began small: a single wave of a hand, a single strike. And then fed itself, consuming, vicious and hungry. A starving fire, clawing away at walls and through hallways, licking underneath carpets and up on ceilings. It transmuted into something all-encompassing, all devouring. The piercing scent of charred wood, the distance of echoing screams.

She smiled, turning her back on him one last time. Actually, she thought, something has to be said.

And then, slowly, she made her way towards the Emperor’s room. Fire swayed and parted for her, under her quiet command. She didn’t have to hear it cackling to feel it burning. She didn’t have to let a single word slip, but it singed obediently. Step by step, she grew closer.

Or signed, fingers dancing deftly in familiar patterns. “I can’t hear you.” And then she slipped away, a wraith into shadows.

The Hanged Man ANGER AND CHANGE

Loud CW: ABUSE, SUICIDE

SAMHA KHAN WORDS / LAVINIA KAILIS ART I think you like it When I cry, Shrink into myself. It makes room for you, And your comforting arm, And your comforting words. You who were taught To yell, And yell for me And yell at me. I think I like it When I sneer, Bare my own teeth. But not when you then Hand me a noose and chair. Red silk, To match my dress. I think you like reminding me I am only woman. Like reminding me Of the wretched flesh I need to tweeze and trim. Ugly girls are not pretty, you say.

And angry girls? Shhhhâ&#x20AC;¦

Recovery CW: SUICIDE IDEATION

CHLOE HYNES WORDS / LAURA BULLOCK ART

and i guess what i’m trying to say, is i bet the first person who climbed everest thought it was impossible until they did it and i bet the first person on the moon thought they wouldn’t make it until they did and maybe making it to eighteen isn’t quite as hard as flying to the moon but then again maybe both of them are just about surviving something that seems impossible

when i was younger, people asked me what i wanted to be when i grew up i said i didn’t know cause that seemed like the better answer but i could tell them what i wanted on my math test what i wanted to get for an atar i could tell them my plans for the weekend and how after graduation i wanted to travel far what i mean is, i could tell you what i was doing for the next year what i mean is, my next year was planned out but i didn’t plan to live past 18 but as i sit here and write this its two weeks away from me celebrating two decades two years past a date i didn’t think i’d make, let alone celebrate

until you do it.

White People, Stand Up CW: RACISM, ANTI-BLACKNESS, NAZISM, WHITE SUPREMACY

ELIZA HUSTON WORDS / HOLLY JIAN ART

to spew out excuses that usually go along the lines of “I’m not racist, but…”, or “I don’t see colour”. The problem is that, instead of taking collective responsibility for the state of race relations in the world and working to improve it, we shift the blame or say nothing at all, which worsens the problem and upholds white supremacy. We think that we can clear ourselves of any wrongdoing by simply stating that we are not racist…. remember how we tweeted #ThisIsNotUs in the wake of Charlottesville? Truth is, it is us. It is not enough to say that we aren’t racist, to reach justice and equity we must actively demonstrate that we are anti-racist.

I’m angry. I’m angry that when confronted with the oppression committed against people of colour, white people are silent. When a group of white supremacists scream racist and hateful words, white people are silent. When seeing policemen racially profile and murder people of colour, white people are silent. This only truly hit me this year around the time of the Charlottesville Nazi Rally. Before Charlottesville, I just thought that people, regardless of their background, do not speak up in situations that don’t affect them, but I was blind to the prominence of white silence and the role that it plays in racism. This is because as a white person, I had never been in a racially motivated situation of injustice in which the dominant racial culture had oppressed me. The purely deliberate disengagement with Charlottesville by the white people in my life came as a shock to me; but importantly, it did not shock the people of colour who are also in my life, as white silence was something they were already familiar with. In essence, I had my white privilege blinkers on.

But how do we do this? I propose three crucial ways that we, as white people, can funnel our silence into active participation.

LISTEN TO PEOPLE OF COLOUR The first way we can do this is by actively listening to the experiences and thoughts of people of colour, without interrupting and without making the situation about ourselves. If in the process, if you are called out for being insensitive (whether intentionally or not), take it as a learning experience and don’t do it again. Our role is to stand with people in colour in situations of racial oppression, not in front of them.

For years, I made excuses for white friends and family, and their silence. I tried to convince myself that they didn’t know any better, an extremely flawed sentiment given the accessibility of information these days. It was even scarier to realise that this silence that my white friends and family exhibited extended to white people as a collective, especially white people who declare themselves as “not racist”.

LEARN

ABOUT RACISM – Fighting racism isn’t as simple as just getting alongracism changes its anatomy in the same way a parasite mutates itself to adapt to different circumstances. For example, the overt act of shipping African people to the United

As white people, when confronted with racial issues, we have an almost automatic response

States to use them as slaves is largely viewed nowadays as a racist thing to do. However, the mass incarceration of African Americans as a source of prison labour does not receive the same amount of outrage because it is wellhidden and normalised. Learning about racism enables us to spot it in situations where it is not so obvious, so that appropriate action can be taken.

USE YOUR WHITE PRIVILEGE TO EMPOWER PEOPLE OF COLOUR – White privilege is an extremely powerful tool that you can use for good or for bad. To positively use your white privilege, engage in conversations about racism with your family and friends, speak out when you witness situations of injustice, pay attention to contemporary racial issues, and actively involve yourself in protests. Do whatever you can. Importantly, we must not be silent. I hear our sighs and murmurs that we’re “tired” of hearing about racism; we should consider ourselves lucky. It’s a lot easier to be tired of hearing about racism than dealing with it on a regular basis. Our white silence is why 97% of Australia’s Aboriginal people experience racism “often”; why there has been a 106% increase in hate crimes in the USA since Donald Trump took office; and why racist monuments such as Confederate statues are still standing. Hence, to fight racism we must join people of colour in taking down the oppressive social structure that is white supremacy. White supremacy thrives because we deliberately remain silent when unity with people of colour is desperately needed. So, white people, we must convert our silence to noise! We must not be complicit in racism…. It is just as bad as being a tiki-torch bearing, polo-shirt wearing Nazi in Charlottesville.

Whorephobia CW: GENDERED SLURS, SLUT SHAMING, SEX WORKER-PHOBIA

SELINA BELL WORDS / LAVINIA KAILIS ART

however, SWERFs disapprove of the sexual objectification, exploitation and violence of women in the prostitution and pornography industries. Here the similarities end. Unlike other forms of feminism, which encourage each person’s right to choose their sexual activities, SWERFs attempt to control how people use their bodies. They argue that people who take part in sex work are co-enforcers to abuse.

When I read this word, I instantly think “a fear of whores” and want to spit out an imaginary drink, to show how outrageously silly the thought seems. I imagine a crazy “whore” chasing me naked, screaming for sex, and want to burst out in laughter. Firstly, because that notion is so societally generated, and secondly, because the very real possibility that people would describe a sex worker in this way is completely absurd.

Resultant Whorephobic actions cause severe mistreatment towards sex workers, which counteracts any positive intentions SWERFs, allegedly, have. Doxxing in particular, the public exposure of someone’s private contact information, often leads to those in the sex industry becoming targets of violence. SWERFs protest legal sex work, the fair treatment of sex workers and in extreme cases, the exclusion of sex workers from civil rights.

You’re probably suspecting; whorephobia revolves around workers in the sex industry. It is, in fact, the “fear”, violence, discrimination and oppression of and against sex workers of all forms, characteristically exhibited by a branch of feminism - sex worker exclusionary radical feminism. Feminists who ascribe to this school of thought are known as SWERFs, and they resulted from the individualistic ideals adopted by the third wave of feminism. They promote conservative values towards sex, but their worst ideology is that sex workers should be excluded from any rights earned by feminism.

These horrible actions endanger the safety of already targeted sex workers. Like the recent murders of three sex workers in Bradford, there are countless stories of violence. Innocent women are abused and mistreated for the job they choose, meaning working in the sex industry is classified as a high risk job. Is it seriously because these women are freely using their bodies for their professions? If that doesn’t sound like oppression than I don’t know what does. When are people going to move past the old-fashioned domestic ideologies that restrict women’s bodies?

It’s important to note, women can choose to enter the sex industry, and this choice is a feminist act. SWERFs do not distinguish between this, and forced prostitution. As someone who doesn’t follow SWERF ideals, I can’t speak for them. Like all feminist groups,

Groups such as Sex Workers Outreach Project (SWOP) and Gold Network of Sex Work Projects are working towards this positive change. They both support “International Day to End Violence against Sex Workers”, on December 17.

Clearly SWERFs are following and promoting ridiculous values. They’re not prioritising the safety of women, abuse and violations of sex workers and women. It’s actually very infuriating that they call themselves feminists. Ensuring the safety of women in the sex industry isn’t through endorsing their oppression or compromising their safety.

The existence of ‘Whorephobia’ is something I hope the world will eventually move past. The words “whore” and “slut” should no longer be insults, or carry stigma that limit the sexual agencies of women, in any way whatsoever.

Proper legal reform outlining policies that establish a safe sex industry is the right way to go. Supporting women and calling out abusers is the right way to go. Accepting the freedom of choice women are entitled to is the right way to go.

Wokeness CW: RACISM, PROFANITY

ZEE IBRAHIM WORDS

My right to exist without some White polly from the western suburbs Defining me with some stupid statistic From a biased survey Surprise, not surprise, it was organised By another woke white “Hang on” - some Becky interrupts “But don’t you know, not all white people are the same?” So tell me then Susan Mary-Jo Where are you when I have to explain For the umpteenth time Systematic racism and microaggressions 101 White apologism is watered down white supremacy You excuse a system whilst reaping its benefits specifically designed and cultivated to suit Your needs In your shade only Then you throw a tantrum when the mean Black women decides to Point that out So don’t look gobsmacked when I say all white people Are racist So don’t talk over me, pass me The fucking megaphone And listen.

I am now a medallion, a broach Something to wear on that Jacket’s lapel - designed by Performative Allyship The lastest trend straight off Those hot little runways Buzzfeed’s number 1 top trend for 2017: “Wokeness” The wokest whites, You exploit my presence like you exploited my ancestors I am a friend, a token, a recruit For the benefit Of a white to look Socially progressive In front of other whites And here I was thinking you actually wanted to hear my voice, But you won’t pass on the goddamn mic, Because your voice is the important voice On the issue of “Black Lives Matter” History repeats itself Like my ancestors I will be silenced with condescending performative tone policing and blindfolding snake tactics Like my ancestors I will have what is rightfully mine Pulled out of my Melanin soaked hands My voice, opportunities My identity

Forget Me Not CW: MISCARRIAGE, DEATH

GABBY LOO ART

Chapter Four

These days, a silence settles - like dust over buildings. Some get the sense that it hovers, watching. It’s an alien air, the lag in-between happening and realisation. People still do what they do, live their lives. But underneath it all, the dying pulses of membranes and keratinised skin. Sellador is quiet these days. Hesitant rumours spread like fire. Fire. A hollowed-out emperor, a missing empress. He wouldn’t eat or sleep. Where did she go? What - Su Li’s gone too? Where? But the questions ricochet, a lonely, perpetual dance. They bury themselves in dust, and burrow into the soil. Questions, no answers. People on the lookout, curious eyes scanning streets. Wanted posters flapping. But maybe, they see the world through foolish, tainted lenses. Perhaps, they don’t listen hard enough. Because, in a distant wind, soft conversations simmer. The sound of tinkling laughter. Pencil scratched on paper. “Both your hands, like that, Su. Move them, up and down. Wriggle your fingers.” Alright, what’s that mean? Love.

The Lovers GENDER AND SEXUALITY

Pronoun Particularity CW: TRANSPHOBIA

ELIZA BOWEN WORDS

refer to individuals of unknown or irrelevant gender. This only became controversial in the late 18th century, when prescriptivists attempted to impose Latin grammar rules onto English. There is little linguistic or stylistic basis for rejecting singular they. Some critics argue that a plural pronoun can’t refer to an individual – but that has already happened in English too. You was originally plural but comprehensively replaced the old singular, thou, after the 17th century. Now you can be singular or plural, and speakers find ways around any ambiguity that may cause.

Whether it’s teachers railing against singular they or conservatives frothing at the mouth over every stray bunself or faers, the gender-neutral and non-binary pronouns of English generate a lot of debate for such small words. This isn’t surprising – language is closely tied to power. Naming is an outlet of authority, over others or over self. Gender-neutral pronouns challenge not just the authority of style guides but also the hegemony of patriarchal gender binaries. In English, the third-person singular pronouns for humans are gendered – speakers and writers must choose between she and he. What if the gender of the person being referred to is unknown or irrelevant? Constructions like he or she, or s/he, are clumsy and unidiomatic. At times, he has been pressed into use as a supposedly gender-neutral pronoun. However, such usage furthers historical cultures of exclusion and reinforces the idea of men as default. It can even have serious implications for interpreting legal and religious texts.

The fact that singular they is already well established doesn’t mean that invented pronouns are pointless. Especially in LGBT+ spaces and online, such neopronouns can serve a different purpose. Nonbinary, genderfluid and gender non-conforming individuals are able to claim or coin pronouns, instead of being forced to choose between a harmful binary. Singular they and forms based on xe or ze (e.g. ze/zir/zes) are popular choices. Other coinages, like those based off nouns (fae/faer/faerself, bun/ buns/bunself), may convey a person’s interests or subvert the seriousness around binary gender. Any given non-binary neopronoun may not become part of mainstream English – but as the concept gains wider acceptance, more people will be free to choose pronouns that match who they are.

These problems aren’t new; they were already under discussion in the 18th century. The following centuries saw a flood of gender-neutral pronouns being coined. Some found (limited) success. Thon (from that one) appeared in dictionaries and crossword puzzles, if nowhere much else, until 1961. The Spivak set (e/em/ eir, analogous to they/them/their) was implemented in early internet and virtual game environments. Mary Orovan’s co has been used in particular feminist communities since the 1970s. Generally, though, new pronouns struggle to enter the wider language.

Gender-neutral language is only one part of making society more open and equal, but it’s a part that everybody can work on.

Luckily, English already has a mainstream genderneutral third-person pronoun: singular they. It has been widely used since at least the 14th century to

Same Sex, Same Rights CW: HOMOPHOBIA

ELIZABETH SALMON WORDS

This whole debate has brought a lot of nasty vitriol into the public eye. It has exposed LGBT+ people to attacks, direct or not, on who they love and who they fundamentally are. People, especially young people, are listening to their parents, and people in power across the country, tell them that they don’t deserve something that to the majority, is simply a regular life event.

The last few months have been a mess for Australian politics. For the most part, it’s ridiculous fluff over whether this MP or that one is really an Australian citizen. But this comes as a distraction from another push by the Federal government allow for a plebiscite to be held regarding Australia’s laws on marriage equality. The senate voted down the plebiscite bill, so the government has now turned instead to a postal vote run through the Australian Bureau of Statistics (notorious now for the Online Census Debacle of 2016) as opposed to the Australian Electoral Commission.

Many Christian lobby groups have been saying that marriage equality will impinge on their religious freedom. Well, I’m sorry to burst your bible I mean bubble but Australia is secular. We do have laws that specifically allow religious freedom, allowing certain religious groups to advocate their views on marriage equality. But this also means that people are allowed to not practice those religions and preached rules, and thus should not be excluded from non-religious marriage because of the religious beliefs of others.

This vote is different from a plebiscite; it is not technically government-funded, and is noncompulsory. The government has said that every person in the country will be sent a voting slip to place their vote, as a way to gauge our national state of mind. But people can choose not to vote, or simply forget. Many people don’t care enough because it doesn’t affect them personally. But- it does affect so many people personally. The consequential debates have very real effects on LGBT+ community members, whose rights are being debated like it’s a question of whether the coffee is too cold to drink yet.

The real kicker is what the government has decided they will do with the votes. While it is a non-binding vote, they’ve decided in the case of a ‘No’ vote, it will be binding. If we vote ‘Yes’, the government will take it to the House of Representatives to debate some more, and we still may not get any sort of change. The right for a same-sex couple to marry shouldn’t be a political position or decision. It shouldn’t be up to a group of straight people in a fancy office to debate something which has little to no personal effect on them. It is 2017. It is not the time for political power plays, postponing, or performative allyship. The vote is asking “Should the law be changed to allow samesex couples to marry?” To which the answer should be a resounding ‘Yes’.

It hurts. It hurts to look at friends, at family, and in the mirror, and know that we just don’t matter enough. To know we may never be afforded the basic right to marry the person we love. To write our names on a piece of paper that goes in a file in a room in a government building that says, “these people are committed to each other and want the law to recognise that in the same way as straight couples”. Much of Australia doesn’t recognise same-sex marriages as legitimate even if they were conducted in a country that does.

Stay

CHLOE HYNES WORDS / LAURA BULLOCK ART Your voice crisp like autumn, my body welcoming you like fallen leaves to the ground, we melt together like candles, bound by the warmth between us. I was never good at school, could never concentrate on the letters on the page, the conventional borders of a map, but you you are a lesson I will never forget. Stay. Hold me, till my skin grows old, my smile softening with age, Touch me till my hands stop shaking, mind stops racing. Let the wind cause waves but never enough, to make the sea forever change, For I am a photographer, you my muse but the memory of you will never fade Stay. Your fingers wrap around my waist, Your breath whispers in my ear, As you tell me you love me, and for the first time I believe you. I am not looking for the best just someone to pull me out of the worst, and you you are a lifeline that never grows tired and yes, I learnt the cardiac system hoping biology would explain the aches in my chest, but no lessons on paper could explain the way you took the pain away Stay.

UN///SEX ME HERE CW: LESBOPHOBIA, ABLEISM

LAURA BULLOCK WORDS

media that people are taken aback when I mention it. Conversations on Tinder die quickly because people just don’t know how to discuss it with me. I’ll be honest, it gets awfully lonely when you can’t even mention the one thing you’re most passionate about. It was only this year, meeting my Deaf community for the first time, that I realised how important it is to me to start this discussion. I’ve only this year made friends with able-bodied people who are unafraid of asking respectful questions, and it has made all the difference.

It is a conundrum finding yourself tangled in multiple intersections as a profoundly deaf, gender nonconforming butch lesbian. I can’t think of a single person who shares those same identities. Being me comes with awkward conversations with people, constantly proving my existence, staring back at ogling eyes, and pushing boundaries of every kind just by existing. My butchness and the conversation of gender makes me susceptible to transphobia despite finding comfort in my womanhood, even if I may not present how you’d expect me to. And this conversation is so multifaceted: there are butch lesbians who identify as non-binary and use they/ them pronouns, some find solace in their androgyny whilst still using she/her pronouns comfortably. Some use he/him pronouns, because pronouns don’t necessarily belong to a specific gender. I can’t even tell you what womanhood means to me out of the context of my sexuality. People ask why I dress like a man, and I ask them why I would want to dress like the very system I’m railing against.

With that, lesbian loneliness is a very real phenomenon magnified by my presentation and my deafness. There is such beauty in the way lesbians hold such a profound love for women only; we are the only group with no interest in men at all, so any and all media (made by men for men) is inherently alienating. I can count on one hand the number of lesbians I know, much less butch lesbians. It took so many years of acceptance, pushing through lesbophobic rhetoric that made me despise that ‘L’ word for so many years; the fact that the beautiful, historical, and emotionally-charged word ‘lesbian’ is so often followed by ‘porn’; and coming to terms with being myself. But even so, I feel like I came out of the closet to an empty house.

Unfortunately, not appearing to be an effeminate and able-bodied cis white woman makes me susceptible to a bunch of phobias and -isms pertaining to my butchness, my sexuality (even within the lesbian/ gay/bi/pan community) and my deafness all at once. And some of those are at odds with each other, like the fact that lesbians, bi, and pan women/nonbinary people are so often hypersexualised for their love for women, while people with disabilities are infantilised and desexualised. It’s so complex and I’m still learning about it, and a lot of these things I have never written out before.

And maybe I am laying myself out and preaching to no one here. Maybe I’m the only one with my identities. But maybe that’s okay, because I’m telling myself; I’m telling you we’ll be alright, no matter how many intersections you’re strung across and left out to dry in this able-bodied heteropatriarchal world. I’ll be okay.

When people meet me, they’re often unsure of how to deal with all the information I’m giving them. Physical disability, particularly deafness, is something that is so rarely discussed or represented in mainstream

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ELIZABETH SALMON WORDS / HANNEKA GERRITSEN ART You look at her and think Why? Why her? Of all the people in all the places in all the times All around the world And you just happened to meet her here. The impossible probabilities make your head spin. Why not the girl next to her? Or the guy over there? Without speaking you are drawn to her like the Earth to the Sun and the apple to Newton’s head Or maybe more like a chargeless neutron to a proton, By a force even the brightest minds do not yet understand. You look at her and think don’t think. Forget science. Forget why. It’s because she is she. Why do you need anymore?

JEREMY COSTIN Since I came out, my life has changed significantly for the better. I have discovered a whole new life with new friends and a passion for dance that I never would have embraced had I remained acting like a boy. As for my relationship with my sexuality and gender, it was tied with my perception of the people around me. Originally I had a very cynical view of people; always assuming the worst of their reactions to me being trans. As I have progressed in my transition, this perception has evolved and now I am very comfortable with my gender.

TONIA CURBY Being Pride Officer this year probably catalysed the biggest change in how I view my identity. It taught me to have confidence and pride in my identity rather being the shy, closeted person I was last year. It also helps that I have such great friends who accept and support me in all aspects, from who I am to the silly things I want to do (like climb a tree).

CLARE When I first came to UWA I thought I was probably gay. I saw uni as a place where I could meet girls and live a more openly queer life. Little did I know I would meet a cute boy at a party and want to know what he thought about everything and anything. Long story short, sexuality is complicated. It’s multi-faceted and sometimes evolving. I currently identify as queer and like who I like. Maybe one day I’ll identify as something more specific than that, maybe not. There is both freedom and fear in that ambiguity.

ELIZABETH SALMON When I first started at UWA, I was just figuring myself out. Over first year, a few of my friends came out too, and I started to feel more comfortable with being bi. Then this year, 4th year, my friend took me to an LGBT+ Women’s Collective meeting in March. I met some of the best, most lovely people, who have become my core group of friends. My sexuality isn’t just a footnote; it’s a major, formative part of who I am and who I know and care about. Now, I wholeheartedly embrace it.

SOFIA KOUZNETSOVA I began my first year at UWA feeling like I no longer belonged in the LGBT+ community. I had previously lived my life as a lesbian, and now I was dating a man. It felt like I had no choice but to retreat back into the closet as I heard whispers of “has-bian” and my name being used in the same breath as the phrase “just a phase”. Now I am a proud bisexual woman with a loving partner and supportive friends, who even felt confident enough to take on the role of LGBT+ Women’s Collective Convener this year.

AMY HEARDER During my time at UWA, my relationship with my sexuality has gone from not existing, to being comfortable. Obviously, universities are huge so, I can be reassured that if I decide that I’m bi (or not), it wouldn’t have to be a public affair. Life would carry on as normal. Plus, it really feels like students are largely very accepting. The mere existence of the Pride Department is, in itself, incredibly comforting. It’s so great to know that there’s already an established community of people that I could join if I wish, and talk to about what I’m feeling.

JULIET BROOK Until I accepted my sexuality, sex had been uncomfortable and painful for me. I was confused and ashamed, and hated my body. After I first slept with a woman I started to gradually accept this part of me. It was only after learning to love all of me, including my bisexuality, that I was able to enjoy being emotionally and physically intimate, and develop a satisfying relationship with someone who happens to be a man. This year I’ve surrounded myself with LGBT+ people and allies. UWA’s progressive culture has played a big part in me becoming more accepting of myself. CHASE HOUGHTON Over the last few years, my relationship with my gender and sexuality has blossomed. Part of me has always known I was queer but I didn’t know how to express it. I realised I was non-binary when I first met an openly non-binary person. I went from feeling like a confused mess of a person to understanding more about who I am. Education has been crucial in learning about my identity and loving myself as a non-binary person. It gives me hope to see the Pride Department providing friendship and education to LGBT+ people so that we can be ourselves. HANNEKA GERRITSEN I’ve known I was attracted to other women since I was about 15, but I hid my sexuality because I knew it would go around school. So, it wasn’t until I started uni that I fully embraced my sexuality and started actively living my own life. The LGBT+ friends that I’ve made at UWA are honestly so accepting and warm that I truly feel I never have to hide or be someone else. I can’t wait to explore myself further as a person and find out who I am.

RIGEL PACIENTE UWA is definitely a place which promotes acceptance. Ever since starting here, I have been able to connect with myself without fear of degradation and rejection. Being surrounded by people just like me or who support me has definitely helped with embracing my sexuality and gender orientation. There are always people to turn to who have gone through everything themselves. There are always people who don’t necessarily understand but are still there regardless. Mental health does play an issue with everything, and I’m glad there are people that are here to help me. I’m non-binary, and I’m proud. MARIE BARRERE-COLLET My pride has been reinforced as I started UWA a year after I publicly came out. Being on a campus that celebrates and normalises Queerness with the Pride Department, the other LGBT+ related clubs, and the ‘Ally’ stickers with the gay flags on Lecturers’ office door have really helped me feel comfortable identifying as a bisexual/pansexual woman on campus.

Humans of Pride TONIA CURBY PHOTOGRAPHS

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