DAMSEL 2021
Art by Luca Zimmerman
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Acknowledgement of Country: Damsel
and
the
UWA
Women’s
Department
acknowledges the Whadjuk Noongar people who are the original custodians of the boodjar (land) we work, learn and create on. We pay our respects to elders past, present and emerging and their bardan (spirit). We recognise the role of Whadjuk Noongar Yorga (women) and non-binary people as the storytellers of this boodjar, and their continuing influence and importance within feminist literature, thought and bardip (story).
Art by Luciano Spadoni
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Inside this issue
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05 06 07 08 10
FOREWORD
11 12 13 14 16 20 21 22 23 24 26 28 29 03 23
ADVICE TO MY YOUNGER SELF
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34
THE FEAR OF BEING BASIC
Words- Floretta Susilo, Art- April Htun
NOTES FROM THE EDITORS
Words - Izzy Wilson Art - April Htun
34
THE NEW ME
Jade Sauta and Shelby Robinson
Words - Isabella Pietropaolo Art - April Htun
YOU STRING ME ALONG Evangeline Perry
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QUIETLY
SOMEONE WILL REMEMBER US Sophie Roberts
38 93 04 24
SAFE SPACE
Words - Sofia Kouznetsova Art - Ella McLeod Damsel 2016 Anonymous Damsels 2016
DRINKING CULTURE
Words - Brooke Burke Art - Savannah Regan
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A NICE DEATH
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Words - Brooke Burke Art - April Htun
BLENCOWE ST, 2018 Isabella Keszi
MATRIARCHY
Brooke Burke
CLASS OF ‘95 Zoë Sydney
REVIVAL
Baran Rostamian
WE DON’T OWE YOU DESIRABILITY Grace Coppola
I AM AN ANIMAL TOO Kelli Trajkovski
FLAPPERS, FASHION AND FEMINISM Elena Perse
FASHION IS A FEMINIST ISSUE Chloe McLevie
UNTITLED
Shiya Tee
Anonymous Damsels 2016
NEVER YOU (UNNAMED) Millie Foster
UNTITLED
Priyanka Sharma
I HATE BEING A THING
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MY BODY IS MINE
LOVELY, QUIET THINGS
NURTURING
UNSOLICITED FEEDBACK
Rae Rosa
Anonymous
Megha Sheth
Amshalaykha Yogaraj
BODY OF WORK
LET’S GET LOUD… ABOUT RAPE
MORE THAN WORDS
LOVE THYSELF: EXCERPT FROM THE FALL, RISE & GROWTH
Vaarunika Dharmapala Damsel 1997
Words - Amy Hearder Art - Savannah Regan
Sam Gibson-Mayne
Ellie Fisher
April Htun
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EXCERPTS FROM THE FALL, RISE & GROWTH
48 94 50 51 52 53 54 55
Amshalaykha Yogaraj
CONFRONTING IMPOSTER SYNDROME Libby Robbins Bevis
ORIGINAL: EXCERPT FROM THE FALL, RISE & GROWTH Words - Amshalaykha Yogaraj Art - April Htun
WOMEN IN LAW Grace Orsi
FLESH W/O CONSENT Sarah Medon Damsel 1997
AUDRE LORDE
Sophie Roberts
MARY ANNING
Sophie Roberts
RESOURCES ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Art - April Htun
foreword
That is why this year’s theme of “Loud!” not only represents 2021 perfectly but the feminist movement as a whole. Loud can be interpreted in your own way and
Reflecting on 2021, it has certainly been an eventful
can take on different forms for different people- as long
year. Following from the wreckage of COVID in 2020
as it enables you to express your most authentic self to
with multiple snap lockdowns, the Tokyo Olympics and
the world.
to Kim and Kanye’s divorce that left us questioning love. Personally, loud to me is in the action. It is in the On a more serious note, this year as Women’s Officer
work behind the scenes to lift each other up and
has opened my eyes as to how far we have left to go in
unapologetically living life whilst working to make a
reaching intersectional gender equality. The feminist
difference. So, I hope you enjoy this edition of Damsel
movement has often primarily focused on white
and see how the students in your community express
women and left out WOC and BIWOC, with many
themselves and be “Loud!” in their own way!
being left behind in the journey to gender equality. A workplace can’t call itself inclusive if the 50% of
Finally, I want to say a big congratulations to our Damsel
women in leadership they are working towards are all
editors, Jade Sauta and Shelby Robinson, for curating
Caucasian; the same way the feminist movement can’t
this year’s Damsel magazine and of course, it wouldn’t
progress without including the voices of women from
be possible without our amazing contributors from the
varying races, sexualities, disabilities, and class. We
UWA community.
need to learn to understand the nuances of different cultures and how different women choose to express
Here’s to cutting down the patriarchy, one mansplainer
their feminist selves.
at a time,
Floretta Susilo 2021 Women’s Officer
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NOTES FROM TESTHEFROM EDITORS
E EDITORS JADE SAUTA
Shelby Robinson
the future, where we are going. I am fascinated by
after it was due and I feel overwhelming comfort
storytelling, how we tell our own stories and what
knowing that this is something most Damsel Editors
shapes who we are - I wanted this edition of Damsel
before me have done too. This year has really been unlike
to reflect that. My journey as editor began with diving
any other for me. Damsel is something that has kept me
into the dusty archives on campus and learning about
grounded in a very different way. It has not been easy.
the history of the UWA Women’s Department and
It has definitely not been everything I wanted it to be,
Damsel magazines. The Damsel Community has such
believed it could have been and it was certainly put on
a rich history and it has been a pleasure to delve into
the back burner more times than I’d like to admit, but,
the stories of all the inspiring women and non-binary
the legacy is what has kept me inspired. The concept
people that have paved the way for us today. Picking
of Loud was born out of an inherent desire to take up
up old editions of Damsel is like a double edged sword
space. Spending hours scouring the Guild archives and
because it is so incredible to read something and be able
dissecting the pieces of every Damsel I could get my
to see your own story reflected in the pages; to know
hands on, I got really pissed off. Every edition features
that people before you were living, breathing, feeling,
the same stories told through the voices of different
the same way as you do now but it also reminds me that
experiences. The 1997 edition is the latest we could
we are still fighting the same battles of equality that we
find. In this edition Æon Flux is the theme inspiration;
have been fighting for decades. We have made immense
her futurism, her body image defying objectification
progress towards achieving gender equality but there is
by subjecting herself, her ambiguous sexuality… her
still a long way to go. What is so fantastic about Damsel
ability to appeal to traditional notions of sexuality but
is that it continues to provide a space for women and
turn them into a threat. This edition is so full of grief,
non-binary people to be creative, story tell and express
of sombre, of protest. It’s raw and it is Loud. Putting
themselves. This year’s theme of “Loud!” has been about
together this magazine has made me so reflective of
women and non-binary people reclaiming space, telling
not only the power of the women in my life, but that
their stories, and seeking catharsis. Working on Damsel
of the long-lasting impact of women, period. Knowing
has been a joyous experience. I have gotten to meet
I’ve had the privilege to be able to interact with some
people from all different walks of life and be inspired
of the most heartbreaking, passionate and undisguised
by their journeys. Thank you to my co-editor Shelby
emotions and lived experiences of the women who
who has kept me grounded throughout this process
have contributed to Damsel, UWA and broader Boorloo
and inspired me with her level of drive and what she
spaces, has been a real diamond in the rough of such
has been able to achieve this year. Thank you to Xander
uncertain times. Wrapping up, I’d love to say a massive
and the Women’s Department for giving us the tools
thankyou to my co-editor Jade; without you I don’t
to create this magazine and the freedom to shape the
think this magazine would have had a hint of creative
creative vision of Damsel, without you guys this edition
layout and I’m so grateful to have been able to see this
would not exist. And finally, to our contributors, readers,
out with you. To anyone who has ever contributed
and the wider Damsel community: getting to know you
to Damsel, or the UWA Women’s Collective / Guild
all, reading your pieces and sharing this journey with
Department, thank-you. No matter how big or small,
you has been an absolute privilege. If you take anything
every contribution builds into the history and is forever
away from this edition, I hope that it is how you should
lasting. Make balanced choices, take up space and
continue to share your authentic experiences, take up
question everything; and in the wise words of Jemma
space and go through life being unapologetically Loud!
Tyley, take a deep breath, enter our world and enjoy!
This edition of Damsel is deeply rooted in history and
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In true Damsel Editor fashion, I am writing this hours
You String Me Along - Evangeline Perry
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CULTURE DRINKING CULTURE BROOKE BURKE
How empty are these men. Their portly flesh formed from the foam, of the endless flow, of green glass bottles. Fitting in their hands like the bodies of women, that they use for their pleasure and dispose of so easy like green glass bottles. Useful, functional, fragile, fleeting. She is much more than the flesh of her fruits. She will not flow for you.
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A NICE DEATH Amy Hearder
a friendly, smiling, polite countenance
to be kind is to speak up, get angry
awards the honourable title of nice,
instinct heard, in your wisdom you are now
polite to all, smile always, delightfully
both judge and jury to those who need to feel
indiscriminate, no matter whom? good.
at fault for their own fucking actions. heed!
remember the piercing, unblinking eyes see;
never will some people see my smile again,
the panopticon of nice, key swallowed.
never will i pretend to feel safe near
feel how nice pushes our heads under, drowning.
those who hurt me, my loved ones, for your ease.
nice doesn’t care about us: not now, not ever.
kind: not punishment, but earned respect.
fallacies of niceties haunt our lives,
forgiveness, empathy, i yearn for your
guilt spectres born of transgressions roam free.
remorse, an understanding of the pain
eroded vertebrae: contagious, deadly.
you caused – alas! do not fear kind, no sir!
unrelenting, unrepentant, saviour,
compliments, warmth, and glad to see you is kind.
unlocking shackles, unmaking our shame.
no damn elections, kind is a monarchy;
the greatest enemy of nice is kind.
empathy reigns, crowned only by, i, divine.
a beating heart, oh, kind is at home in me
my kindness is a willing flame, for i
an unending sunny afternoon, kind
am leaving in my wake a trail of ash.
is here to hug and to kick the curb:
alight is every bridge, remorselessly,
blessed kind gives you what you deserve, yes.
only to be rebuilt if you impress me.
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et oud... Let’s get bout loud... about ape. Rape. ANONYMOUS
they talked about their day. I was dressed neatly, my hair brushed, and I was instructed, as were many women of my generation, to obey and give in to what men wanted. When I was 11 years old I was raped. I think most of us would agree that this was a horrible experience for a child to deal with, but I thought it was just what happened in every home. As a family, outside friendships were discouraged and criticised, an example of the isolationist policy of abusers. If a family does not communicate closely with the outside world abuse is normalised. I think due to the abuse I experienced as a child I married a narcissistic abuser. I was used to it- it was normal for me. Our marriage started off great at first. A whirlwind of motorcycle rides, alcohol fuelled parties and sexual experimentation. Good times? Perhaps. After the actual marriage ceremony everything seemed to turn to shit. But… I believed marriage was for life and I stuck it out for sixteen years. I did not think my husband was abusive, he did not actually hit me. He derailed my self-confidence, gaslighted me and embarrassed me publicly. Afterwards, excusing his behaviour as being a funny joke. I felt lucky compared to some of my neighbours, who were beaten up regularly. I remember sitting on my front veranda watching the woman who lived across the road being hit on the back of the head with a star picket by her husband as she ran down the street. I yelled to him that I was calling the cops and he ran away. She was taken to hospital that night in an ambulance. I was not physically beaten by my husband so we had a good thing, I thought, but friendships outside the family were still discouraged and criticised. Coercion is a form of rape. My husband would not take no for an answer if I did not want to have sex. He seemed unaware of this being wrong. He would demand his
CONTENT WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT, CHILD
conjugal rights and pester me for hours until I gave in,
MOLESTATION, PTSD, ABUSE
or I would fall asleep and wake up with him doing it to me. I was doing as I had been instructed as a child
I have always been embarrassed to talk about how
to give in to men and what they wanted. “You cannot
many times rape has happened to me. I am older and
be raped by someone you share a bed with” my mother
in a time of reflection about my life. I guess I am writing
told me when I asked her about it. “Just look at the
this as a warning for other people who identify as
ceiling and think of England “, My Irish grandmother
female. Maybe to offer suggestions of what we can do
piped in during the conversation. Rape happens in
to make it better. Or to make people aware of some of
marriages, but how do you create consequences for this
the stuff that goes on behind closed doors. I believe we
type of rape. Available consequences are few and far
need to talk loudly and openly about rape.
between. The police will only prosecute a case they can win, a case that has witnesses and proof. How could I
When I was a little girl, I was instructed by my mother
ask my children to act as witnesses against their father?
(who meant well) to kiss my family members when they came home from work and sit quietly whilst 14
So how do we protect each other from rape?
Times have changed and people are now talking about rape. The “Me Too.” movement has brought attention to sexual assault being perpetrated in the film industry by talking about it, loudly. Talking loudly has raised awareness as to how the industry’s “do it to get a job“ coercion is unacceptable. The victims talking loudly has brought attention to the issue and resulted in perpetrators being convicted. Loud voices have left their mark on the industry and changes are happening. Due to the feminist movements and women being in higher ranking positions, both in the police force and the government, times have changed- we are getting there. Still, there is a lot of work to be done. I recently DJ’d at a birthday party for a high-ranking female police officer who told me about the reductions in funding for the Domestic Violence Unit. We need to change this. We need to talk about it. We need to lobby parliament for real changes and a higher focus on domestic violence from the Police Force. We need to be heard. A mural I saw the other day inspired this piece. The artwork said “protect your daughters from rape” and an older lady was drawn next to the phrase with a spray can in her hand. She had crossed out the original statement and had written underneath “teach your sons not to rape”. That sort of sums it up. Proper consent should be taught in primary schools. We need to start young to change traditional gender expectations and entitlement to the fulfillment of desires previously experienced. Attitudes are changing but these changes need reinforcement. My son came home from high school after having a big argument with his “fucking feminist” teacher a few years ago. I sat him down and explained that his father’s example of attitude to “fucking feminists” would not get him anywhere in life. I outlined the history of the phases of the feminist movements and the changes they have made to women’s lives. He grunted in response, as is the norm for teenage boys when their mum is lecturing them, but I think I hit a couple of nerves. I even played him some music from the band Bikini Kill afterwards, Loudly! We can teach and we can protect by talking, writing, singing and communicating about our experiences. We need to believe victims and link together to teach and support each other, not judge other women. United we stand. Sharing our stories creates links of shared experiences and results in challenging the isolationist policy of abusers.
Talking about it destroys the
normalisation of abuse in families. So, let’s raise awareness. Let’s talk about rape, openly and honestly to anyone who will listen, that’s how we create change. Let’s be LOUD! 15
Lovely, Quie Lovely, Quiet Things Things Sam Gibson-Mayne
It was a Tuesday, mid-July when his wife started
And it was a scream. Not a shout or a shriek or a cry. An
screaming.
enormous sound that took up more space than it had any right to, carrying up across the field and spilling
Saul remembered that because he’d been out late fixing
over the edges of the fence as if it wasn’t there at all.
the old harvester. That night had been the last-ditch
The sort of scream that you only saw in movies and
effort, trying to coax the old beast back to life for hours,
read about in books because there wasn’t anything
before he’d finally given in and left it to rust in the
frightening enough in the real world to make a person
bottom of the apple field.
scream like that. There wasn’t room in his dried-up little wife for a sound that big.
She was out by the old sty, a half-rotted wooden thing that was either being kept up by the grace of God, or else
He’d ran then, stumbling over the wet grass, boots
some self-decided determination to remain an eyesore
sinking into the mud and the old shit from long-dead
at the edge of the woods that bordered the farm. Back
pigs as he bolted for the sty.
when they had pigs, Saul had decided to build it there to keep the smell out of the house. He didn’t mind so much
The sound had retreated from him, disappeared as
that it led to more pigs getting taken by stray dogs or
suddenly as it came. By the time he reached Beth she
whatever else haunted the tree line at night. He never
had stepped out of the pen, was kicking her boots
really even wanted pigs in the first place. Didn’t like the
against the gate to clear the mud from them.
way they squealed regardless of whether they were happy or sad or just fed or near-starved. Once they
She’d just looked up at him when he’d asked her what
started getting sick and everyone in the valley decided
was wrong. The same glassy-blue eyes she’d looked at
it was best to just cull them for good, Saul was the first
him with for a decade now. “Nothing” she’d told him.
to dump a pile of thick pink and brown bodies in the
One of the dogs had run down into the woods and she’d
middle of the town square.
gone to find it, she’d said. She hadn’t been screaming. Maybe the dog had gotten one of the neighbour’s ducks
It had taken him a moment to make her out. She stood
again. Those things could make a racket when they
at the edge of the pen, swaying on her feet like a skinny
wanted to.
sapling in the wind. Beth had always been a wisp of a thing. He’d seen the other wives in the valley thicken more around the middle every year, but Beth had gone the other way, drying up and shrivelling like old hide.
Beth was his fourth wife, but Saul liked to think of her
He’d called out, wondering what she thought she was
as a culmination. He grew the best apples in the whole
doing. She didn’t seem to hear him. He’d been about to
valley, everyone in the village said so. It was because
call out again when he heard the scream.
he didn’t grow a single apple from seed. Not anymore. They were all grafted. Scions from the ones that bore the
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et best fruit that he fused to hearty new rootstock every
and he’d been coming back from hunting in the woods,
few years. Beth reminded him of those trees, growing
swinging an empty-eyed rabbit by the ears at his side.
and shifting and shaping around his needs. She’d taken
He’d frozen only a few steps from the tree line when
on the best of his old wives; he’d shown her pictures of
he saw them standing together at the edge of the pen.
his first. A dancer, so she walked like her feet were just
Swaying again. Mumbling something into the gloaming,
kissing the ground. The next day Beth’s back was a little
something too quiet to hear.
straighter, her movements more graceful. After a month she moved like she’d danced all her life. His second wife
The scream split the night open. It was still one scream,
was the perfect homemaker. He’d given Beth her old
pouring now out of two mouths. His wife and the
cookbooks, big volumes full of her own annotations. Beth
neighbour’s wife, Jean, side by side, upending that
had read them all, and now she cooked just as well as she
animal wail into the woods, flooding the valley with it.
had. Beth had gotten useful around the farm too, in the
Filling his ears until Saul was sure it would burst out of
last few years, ever since Saul had hauled his third wife’s
him too if he dared to open his mouth.
gardening tools up from the basement. She was like wet earth, soaking up every imprint that got pressed into her,
Once more it had stopped as suddenly as it started. He
drying into something new and different every time the
watched from the shadows as Beth and Jean exited the
sun baked her into shape.
sty and began walking back toward their respective houses. They didn’t even look at each other, just
He’d tried to forget about the screaming. Over the next
clambered into different parts of the dark, blinking out
few months, he kept a closer eye on his wife. But she
like streetlights.
didn’t seem any different. There was the odd night when he’d woken up, sure that he heard that same scream beating on the door of the house, sieging the windows, but in another moment, it would be gone and
He’d had to go to John after that. It was one thing for
he’d wake up the next morning sure it had all been a
his own wife to scream into the night like something
dream.
possessed, that was his business and his alone. But now that he knew Jean was doing it too, he had to tell his neighbour. That’s just how things were done in the valley.
It was a Friday in September when the neighbour’s wife
“I saw Beth doing it once before. Back in July.” He’d
started screaming.
explained. “Put it down to just being one of those things, you know. But now Jean…”
At least as far as Saul knew, anyway. Perhaps she had started by herself, back when Beth did. But now they
John nodded. “Jean started around then too.” He paused.
were doing it together. It had been after dark again,
“Maybe August actually, it was after Michael’s wedding.
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Thought maybe that had her upset. She was friendly
A huddle of figures walked along it in the darkness. Six
with his last wife.”
more of the local wives, all heading for the sty.
Saul leaned back in his chair. He’d sent Beth into town
Jean and Beth were murmuring again. Saul strained to
with one of the old cows, due for slaughter. She wouldn’t
hear what they said, only snatches of sound came to
be back before lunch. “Thought much the same. That boy
him, too much got caught up in the wind, tumbled off
from the next town over only carted Mary away in June.
into the night.
You know how attached they get to the children. Silly thing, she knew Mary had to be paired off some day.”
“…another one inside that…scratching…falling out…”
“Strange though.” John swigged his tea. “Them getting
He turned to John, ready to ask what he had heard. The
like this at the same time. And the screaming. Not
scream cut him off.
normal at all.” He squinted out the window, off in the direction of the mountains that stood watch over the
His gaze shot to the wives, all cramped together in one
valley. “Maybe its smoke blowing in from the old cities.
corner of the pen. All screaming. He tried to make out
They say it makes people crazy.”
their faces in the gloom, but he only caught glints of light from their eyes, the odd profile caught in sharp
Saul stood. “Nonsense. This isn’t getting us anywhere.
relief by the moonlight, impossible to distinguish one
Best we try to listen in next time Jean and Beth go down
from the other without the detail.
to the sty. Maybe then we can figure out what’s going on.” It was still the same scream, the only change was that John chuckled, “As if any man has ever understood a
it had become louder. No. Bigger. It was so big he could
thing his wife does. Suppose it can’t hurt.”
feel it pushing into his lungs. It lifted the arches of his feet, and, for a moment, everything in the world that
Saul laughed mirthlessly, the scream still ricocheting in
wasn’t already something became the scream. Still it
his head. “No. I suppose it can’t”.
built. Saul knew that once it ran out of space to fill, it would make more. Tear down the mountains, turn the trees to sawdust, turn him to bone chips and viscera. He opened his mouth to cry out, and the world went silent.
They didn’t have to wait long for the screaming to start again. Less than a week later, Saul watched as Beth
He woke up cold and wet, crumpled on the peaty ground
began a slow walk across the field toward the sty. He
at the edge of the woods, John groaned at his side.
took the long way around, creeping back into the woods to watch from the darkness. John was already there,
“What the hell was that?”
staring at the humped silhouette of the pig-house. Saul shook his head. The wives were gone, leaving only “Nearly slept through her getting out of bed” he said.
the disturbed mud behind.
“Shhh.” Saul hissed. He pointed to the firebreak on the
He looked up toward his house. The patio light was
edge of the field. “Look.”
on. Beth sat in the old wicker chair by the door, staring across the field, cold blue eyes locked on the sty.
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She was still staring at the sty when he reached the
let them crawl into my ears, you know. The place would
patio, when he grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her
have turned into a great big mess otherwise.”
to her feet. Something moved at the bottom of the field. Several “What was that Beth? Why are you screaming? Why
somethings. It was a small village, word would have
are all the wives screaming?”
gotten round even if he and John kept quiet.
He could feel the vigour draining out of him with every
“But now the tears have left everything in my head all
word. By the time he was finished, he was sitting down
damp, and its turning to rot, I think. And all the whispers
on the splintery wood. Beth sat back in her chair.
and sobs have turned into sharp little shrieks, making little holes that I can’t mend. I’ve tried, but they wont
“It started under the sink,” she said.
sew up. It’s past fixing Saul. It always gets past fixing.”
“What?” “Shut up.”
It was a Sunday in October when they burned the wives.
Saul reeled. His wife didn’t talk like that. They went up quick, like always. They were made of “It started under the sink,” she continued “I thought it
straw and old flour sacks after all, for the most part. Saul
was leaking. There was water, dripping out onto the
had been worried that they might scream again, but they
floorboards. Some days there was so much that it crept
didn’t. Instead, there was just something like a long sigh,
under the door into our bedroom. So I cleaned it up and
one that drifted up with the smoke and ash as they burned.
cleaned it up, but it just kept coming.” She eased herself back in the chair. Scratched her head. “But it wasn’t the
The men picked through the ash like they always did
sink, you know. I just knew that one day. It was tears. A
afterward. Saul found the little blue marbles he’d given
great big flood of tears.”
Beth for eyes, they still looked at him the same way. So much of Beth still in them.
Saul tried to stand. Failed. “You aren’t talking sense Beth.”
The man that made the wives was there. He always appeared after they burned. Standing in the middle of
She ignored him. “One day I opened up a pot and there
the pit, though the ash never seemed to stick to him. He
was an awful big sob trapped inside it. It got out and
always looked clean and brand-new and younger every
bounced all over the kitchen. I had to swallow it in the
time, although at once to Saul he felt old, older than
end.”
anything he could think of, older than the mountains. Of course, he would make them more, he said. But they
He shook his head, “Oh Beth, this time was supposed to
ought to stop trying to put bits of the old wives into the
be different. This time…”
new ones.
“There were whispers too. Trickling out of the gaps in
It was too much for them, he told them. They were only
the walls and through the vents in the ceiling. I had to
ever meant to be simple things. Lovely, quiet things.
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More than Words - Megha Sheth Medium: Acrylic on Canvas Description: In my art, I like to focus on the simple rather than the complex. I believe that sometimes it is the small details of life which stay with you for a long time; memories which emerge from the darkness when you least expect it and surprise you. This piece tries to capture how silent eyes can often convey far more than words ever could. 20
Nurturing Brooke Burke
Some mothers don’t have the hands for catching tears or healing wounds. Her words cut like sandpaper fine grit. Wearing away, slowly but surely shaping your hollows to match the wants of every man she never got, and the one that never stayed. Still she can’t understand why you haven’t given her grandchildren.
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Blencowe St, 2018 - Isabella Keszi Medium: Oil on canvas Description: I’ve always been fascinated with how we remember things and whether we think we have memories of certain events or whether we only remember because we’ve seen photos of that moment in time in photo albums. Or do we indeed have memories of that point in time and photos spark something in our brain and help us remember? My artwork is based off a treasured photo of my grandma and me sitting in her backyard when I was around a year old and I feel as though I remember this moment through the photo - I can feel as though I’m back there and can hear the birds and the smells from the garden. We lived with my grandma for a lot of my childhood which I feel very lucky to have been able to do, as I am one of twenty-one grandchildren. Having three generations on my mother’s side in the house was very special and unique. My grandma had a busy and demanding but resourceful and inspiring life with ten children and made the tough journey to migrate from England to Australia in the late 40s, with stints in the remote towns of Bruce Rock and Boulder. She was involved with Mother’s Union and always provided for her family which is why I feel proud to be her descendant. It is why I chose to paint this inter-generational photograph.
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Matriarchy Brooke Burke
I always thought these brown eyes were my father’s, my father’s fathers. His father’s fathers. Someone else’s eyes in the wrong soul. Severed. But now when I look in the mirror, I see the eyes of my great great grandmother. I feel her. I hear her. Calling me home. She lives in me. I will carry her proudly.
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“Class of ‘95” - Zoë Sydney Medium: cyanotype on found material Description: The print on this t-shirt is a collage of photographs and articles from the 1995 issue of Damsel magazine. After getting the opportunity to read through this issue I was so inspired by the writing of women and non-binary people from over 25 years ago. It’s so important to look back on our histories, and often we find people were writing about and discussing the same struggles we are writing about today. I included text from the article “The Next Generation: Queer Strategies for the Future”, which is fascinating looking back now from that next generation. The print technique I have used is a cyanotype, or sun print, which retains the monochromatic style of the original magazine.
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Revival Revival Baran Rostamian
Revival was inspired by @trashy.com.au where I post
Most materials used were free or previously purchased
jewellery made from trash, something I started at the
for alternate purposes. This decision was informed by
beginning of the pandemic. I had a desire to expand
a desire to remain authentic to the initial concept of
from the small scale of my original creations. I began by
compiling ‘useless’ objects in a cohesive way. Each object
inspecting a cluttered garage space, in which a multitude
has a backstory, similar to a photo-album. In examining
of disorganised and unrelated objects were identified.
the lamp, each viewer may associate different surfaces
Photographic documentation prompted a fascination
with certain memories. The root of the word kitsch
with ‘object juxtaposition’ and its ability to redefine
is within the German language, meaning ‘gaudy’ or
meaning.
‘trashy’. The ‘kitsch’, ‘grandma’s house’ aesthetic becomes personally constructed, due to the use of identifiable
The nature of all objects and materials collected for the
objects. Viewers are encouraged to bring their own
project were informed by Crewe and Gregson’s ‘three
memories and associations into their understanding of
possession rituals’, the first being recovery, where
the works.
trapped, ‘imagined memories’ within commodities create their ‘value [and] meaning’. In the second ritual previous
The use of text within the works is significant, some
ownership is ‘expunged’ and in the third, repurposing
examples in increasing size order being:
allows ‘transformation’. The significance of this project
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is in identifying the re-use stage in an ‘object’s existence
‘Pro-Choice’, ‘Press to Prosper, Ignore and Perish’, ‘Ur heart?
circuit’. In breaking the linear trajectory of produce,
On a silver platter? That’s… Not what I ordered.’ The size
consume and destroy by disassembling and repurposing
in no way reflects the respective significance of each
materials, resulting creations regained ‘value’ in re-
sentiment. The first, handmade from clay, refers to my
entering the ‘life’ phase.
belief in the rights of people to bodily autonomy. These
messages, ‘hidden in plain sight’ within the assemblage
The development and assemblage of these items used the
comment on the voices of certain groups, lost among the
medium of collage as a field in which objects lost their
exponentially growing chorus of opinions, beliefs and
identities before repurposing allowed their reinvention,
positions in socio-political spheres. Symbolically placed
creating a mystical space through revival.
within a sea of objects, the phrase criticises the attention placed on material possessions in comparison with the
‘The exhibition encourages viewers to explore a wider
resounding visual silence regarding its message, when
world of possibilities,
ironically, woman and non-binary people are often objectified. The second phrase references the common
offering a wholly different consumption of everyday
Instagram caption ‘double tap for good luck’. Social-
objects…
media’s ability to influence users’ sense of self-worth is explored in this installation, a physical recreation of the
it encloses a contemplative moment in time,
‘like’ heart positioned on the floor. The third statement again refers to a feeling of disposability, often fostered
persuading the senses to believe in the wonderland
in the usage of online dating applications, where the meaningless swiping away of individual profiles in a
of constructed chimera and half-truths,
constant, fruitless gamble for ‘someone better’ often results in loneliness.
and the momentary pleasure this may offer’.
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Flappers, Fashion and Feminism Elena Perse
We all know that history repeats itself and trends come
Born out of the increased liberation that women
back around. We’ve seen it with scrunchies, flares and
embraced following World War One, flappers took the
(horror of all horrors) low-waisted jeans. However,
Western world by storm and defined an entire decade.
I would like to make a bold assertion on the topic of
Their iconic dresses and blunt bobs call to mind the
sartorial throwbacks that you might not have heard
opulence and party lifestyle of the 20s, but the daring
before – today’s tomboy TikTok girls are the flappers of
and revolutionary nature of their look cannot be
the 2020s. Bear with me here, I know this sounds like a
overstated. Whilst most women were still constrained
weird combo, but I promise there’s a link here. What ties
to dresses, these dresses featured hems significantly
these two together? Androgyny and rebellion.
shorter and necklines significantly lower than what had been seen for generations. Their short hair and
In the late 1910s and early 1920s, a new aesthetic emerged
exposed calves scandalised cultural conservatives. They
in the United States and spread through the West: the
demonstrated a level of control over their bodies and
‘Flapper’. These empowered and liberated young women
appearances that blazed a trail for all women, especially
defined a generation with their rakish fashion and party-
those who rejected traditional femininity and embraced
girl legacy. Rebelling against the strait-laced (literally!)
non-conformity.
conservative traditions of their parents’ era, flappers
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ditched corsets, big bustling skirts and the old-fashioned
The element of the flapper look that grabs my attention
morals that went along with them. I believe that the
most is embracing a more natural, boyish version of
flapper’s style and ethos are alive and well in today’s
the female figure. The flappers’ rejection of corsets
girls, young women, and nonbinary people. After all, if
and tightly laced underwear in favour of drop-waist,
we’ve already had the pandemic, and the recession is on
straight silhouettes drew outrage from those used to
the horizon, why shouldn’t we embrace the best part of
the restricted, carefully fabricated ‘womanly’ figures
the Roaring 20s: experimentation and rebellion?
of earlier generations. There is definitely a parallel
to be drawn between the often surgically enhanced
years ago as it is today. The rebellious nature of the
‘slim thicc’ ideal of the mid to late 2010s and the strict
flappers went beyond their wardrobe, and we see this
feminine ideals of the Victorian era. Let’s be real: what is
in their modern-day successors. The proliferation of
a waist-trainer if not a corset backed by pseudo-science?
diverse, inclusive, intersectional feminism and the fight
The baggy jeans and oversized t-shirts combo that has
for equal rights is hyper-visible on Tiktok which is truly
cropped up everywhere on Tiktok takes this idea of the
proof that the kids today are alright.
boyish, shape-disguising ethos of flapper fashion into the 21st century. Is it a stretch to say Billie Eilish might be the
Although, it goes without saying – the flapper movement
Zelda Fitzgerald of the 2020s?
wasn’t perfect. It was the 20s! Working-class women and women of colour, in particular, struggled to take part in
Another trend that’s blown up along with Ttiktok is the
the movement as easily as the rich, white women who
mullet. Love it or hate it, the mullet is back and here to stay.
expressed their liberation through their fashion. Modern
While it often tends to call to mind the 1980s, I argue that
androgyny faces the same issue of whitewashing, and
the mullet is, more or less, the modern-day equivalent of
today, plus-sized women also often feel excluded due
the flappers’ bold and daring bobs. Somewhere between
to super-skinny ideals. Despite the body positivity
masculine and feminine and sure to provoke the ire of
movement, there is still a lack of appreciation for the
older generations, both represent a defiance of a symbol
diversity of bodies out there. But the best part about
of femininity that endures to this day: long, perfectly
taking inspiration from the past is that we have a chance
styled hair.
to do it better this time. So, let’s leave discrimination and
These fashion trends are more than just an aesthetic.
exclusion in the past. Instead, let’s keep on rejecting the suffocating ideals of femininity and embrace the comfort of androgyny. Let the Roaring 20s (2.0) begin!
Embracing androgyny was as much a rejection of traditional ideas of what it meant to be a woman 100
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shion is a Fashion is a minist Issue Feminist Issue Chloe McLevie
When discussing fashion as a feminist issue, the
trends quickly and cheaply available to consumers.”
conversation usually surrounds what women wear.
This means there is a rapid trend cycle; clothing quickly
Whether that is the SlutWalks of the contemporary
comes in and out of fashion at an impossible rate.
lipstick feminists or debates about whether religious
Fashion stores have capitalised on this increased speed
headscarves can be considered a form of female
that we cycle through trends. According to the Industry
oppression, much emphasis is placed on how clothes
Clothing Textiles Waste Roundtable and Exhibition
can signify oppression or liberation. This piece was
at Parliament House on 26 May 2021, we each buy,
initially about feminist fashion history; the rise in
onaverage, 27 kilograms of new clothing every year in
women wearing pants in the late 1800s, the flappers
Australia and send 23 kilograms of textiles to landfill.
of the 1920s and the popularisation of the miniskirt,
With the global average of clothing consumption just
which coincided with the introduction of the Pill in
13 kilograms a year, it is clear that Australians are
Australia in the 1960s. However, I believe it would be
overconsuming at an alarming rate. But more than just
a massive oversight to celebrate how far we have come
the obvious environmental impacts of rapidly buying
without acknowledging the women we are harming
and discarding clothing, it is essential to consider how
when we buy new clothes.
our habits impact women living thousands of kilometres away. It is easy to feel discouraged when faced with the
Perhaps you remember the Rana Plaza Collapse in
shocking statistics surrounding the systemic poverty
2013, which resulted in the death of over 1100 garment
faced by workers in the fashion industry. According
workers, mostly women and children. It was the
to the documentary The True Cost, an estimated 98%
largest, non-deliberate deadly structural failure in
of workers in the fashion industry do not earn a living
modern times. This incident sparked global outrage and
wage. And since 75% of these workers are women
international
between the ages of 18 and 24, it is impossible not to consider this not only an environmental and economic
investigation into the dangerous and inhumane
issue but also a feminist one. We have to use our
working conditions for Bangladesh’s 41 million garment
resources to demand change, and one of the best ways
workers, 80% of whom are women. A Stern Centre for
to do that is to limit our consumption of fast fashion.
Business and Human Rights publication highlighted “major, life-threatening safety concerns” in “too many
Of course, I am not saying that anyone who buys clothes from fast fashion stores is a bad person. Sometimes it
factories”. Low-profit margins exacerbated a tendency
is our only option. But there are changes we can make
on the part of Bangladeshi garment producers to cut
that will impact the lives of those who earn a living
corners on safety.
working in sweatshops. By raising awareness of this issue, big companies have an incentive to source
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These low-profit margins are a result of the rise in fast
ethical labour and offer decent wages. So next time
fashion since the 1990s. Increasingly, in the past few
you shop at fashion stores such as Valley Girl, Ally
decades, the fashion industry has been marked by
Fashion, Shein or Uniqlo, take a second to consider
“an approach to the design, creation, and marketing
who made the clothes and how these companies can
of clothing fashions that emphasises making fashion
afford to sell them so cheaply.
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EAR OF THE FEAR OF G BASIC BEING BASIC Izzy Wilson
We all know about the girls considered to be ‘basic’. The
It was not an easy journey. I had these attitudes instilled
typically feminine girls: they love pink, wear skirts and
in me and an innate dread of being called ‘basic’. I can’t
loads of makeup and are obsessed with boys. Why did I
remember what exactly catalysed this shift in my
dislike these girls so much?
thinking, but I believe it’s due to being accustomed to meeting such a variety of people at university. I was
My mother brought me up to not accept typical gender
trying to discover who I wanted to become and thus
roles and didn’t want me to end up in an unhappy
had to try many different things to see what worked.
and unfulfilling marriage like my grandmother. I was
I even questioned my gender identity for a while and
watching TV shows and movies, such as Mean Girls,
experimented with using she/they pronouns.
where the main female character is seen as a ‘bitch’, so I wanted to be everything they weren’t. I’ve also
My first year I gained a lot of friends very quickly by
considered myself to be bisexual for years and I felt like
being involved in student politics and that meant I would
I couldn’t be basic because I wasn’t straight. I developed
see people I knew almost every time I visited campus. I
the attitude that I didn’t want to be a boring housewife
gained a lot of confidence very quickly; people wanted
and thus didn’t accept any part of being typically
to spend time with me, I received compliments and my
female.
confidence grew. I was still changing my expression to be anything but ‘basic’ and to find myself, but I no longer
Maturing has made me realise this was internalised
hated the girls who wore dresses and skirts every day.
misogyny. Internalised misogyny is defined as sexist
Instead, I thought they were just confident people who
behaviours and attitudes enacted by women toward
were comfortable with their femininity, and I thought
themselves or other women and girls. It is the reason
that was amazing.
why some girls growing up, including me, didn’t want
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to be like these “other” girls. Throughout high school, I
Second year rolled around, and the unthinkable
always wanted to be different. I wouldn’t be caught dead
happened. I started wearing the dresses, skirts and
wearing the colour pink, dresses or skirts and hardly
makeup that I had hated for years. And somehow, I felt
ever put makeup on. It was only until I started attending
much more confident. If you told past me what I was
university that something seemed to shift in me, and I
doing now, she wouldn’t have believed you. Although
became a lot more comfortable with my femininity.
this was probably partly due to some of the male
attention I received, I finally felt comfortable in my
and not feel pressured to be the same all the time. It’s
body for once. I realised that I was hating girls for being
totally normal to wear a dress and makeup one day and
basic because I wanted to be them. I wasn’t comfortable
just wear pyjamas all the next day.
in who I was, and I was projecting my body dysphoria and insecurities. I wished I could be as confident as they
Women shouldn’t be afraid to be basic or like every
were.
other girl. Women should also not be afraid to express themselves and be completely different. Coming to
Mainstream media has made women believe they
terms with my femininity is still a journey that I am
should always be ‘put together’ and presentable.
on, but I’m not mad about it. I don’t see myself hating
We need to be submissive, attractive and quiet to be
other women anymore and instead I see them on the
desirable. Over the years, this expectation has been
same journey as me. As I’m getting older, I’m realising
reinforced in movies, such as The Wolf of Wall Street
that no two women are the same. We all have our own
and Bombshell, where women are merely sexual objects
opinions, desires, interests, passions and talents. We
that seem to lack empathy or any kind of emotions.
should be embracing our differences.
However, today we are seeing more representation of confident women who don’t conform to typical societal
We as women have the power to change the discourse
expectations. Take Sex Education for example, where
and it starts with us raising each other up and not
the main female character Maeve Wiley is confident,
putting each other down. Put on that makeup or don’t,
outspoken and has a punk-rock style. Women should
the choice is up to you.
be able to choose what kind of woman they want to be
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New MeMe The New Isabella Pietropaolo
There’s a person in the mirror,
There is something stunning
I don’t know who.
About the non-binary,
They’re brave and strong.
They had courage and patience
They’re making their debut.
To come out finally.
Their crooked smile
I look in the mirror
Breaks the mould
To see them again.
Of perfect and pretty
They’re not a stranger,
That women uphold.
They are who I am.
Their eyebrows thick
I am no longer afraid
And darker than others
Of how I identify,
Empower themself
So with a wink and a smile,
And the soul of another,
I begin to fly.
Their rolls and curves They wear with pride In front of men and women Who told them to hide,
Their clothing similar To masculine boys’, With something ladylike About their poise.
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quietly Ellie Fisher
Interiorly, you are filled with pages. Ink stands out starkly against white, as shocking to the nerves as the sight of blood. Tidal forces, monthly stains. Flinching from warmth. It is unreliable, unquantifiable. You are godless. Your theology is that of rejection. That which is given will be withdrawn again. Outstretched fingers. You do not show the inner workings. You do not allow the façade to fall. You remain inscrutable. Kindness causes perturbation within this feminine museum. Familiarity is handled with golden tweezers, carefully examined. There are plaques against hope. Photographs are prohibited. The most perilous rooms are closed to the public. You stand at the mirror, hair treacle-dark and waved. Eyes, uncompromising and ringed. Skin paper-pale and smoothed. Right eye tooth slightly crooked. Reddened eczema scars. The mole at the ankle, a poignant full stop. 37
cerpt from e Excerpt Fall, Rise from The Fall, Rise & Growth. Growth. Love Thyself:
Amshalaykha Yogaraj
A mirror or a weighing scale, the number of likes or followers on your Instagram cannot reflect, and does not measure, your talents and dreams, your kindness and quirkiness. The saturated, filtered, cropped images of us, may hide our physical scars, but they cannot hide the scars in our hearts. Every morning, I tell myself, to pour myself a cup of gratitude, with a dash of acceptance, mix it till it becomes love, and drink it till I am full.
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never you ver you (unnamed) nnamed) Millie Foster
when I lie here and I tell you I am brief and incomplete, what I mean to say is
I am not finished yet. when a child of a repressed nation is told to buy a dishwasher and clean up after themselves what is meant here is you are a master of your own mess. in all the content warnings: violence I see “maybe some men, just not me” (never you) in all the methods and ingredients I see a woman’s touch just not me (never me) in those unsafe spaces, all too commonly sheets, streets, and selves. that is where the drum beats that is where the dead bruise.
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being a I hate being a thing ing Vaarunika Dharmapala
I hate being a thing.
I hate my physicality.
I hate that I’m a pretty object For the men that peer and pass. I hate being flesh and skin and hair, And no more To the men that want me, use me, forget me. I hate that my body is a shell, A sweet mother of pearl box To my crawling, hating, sad interior. I hate being an exterior.
But I love my physicality. I love my beauty. I love the feel, the smell, the being, The being of me. I love the wind on my face
The quiet and the rage of the days And the softly spoken murmur Of joy in myself.
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odyBodyofofWork Work Rae Rosa
CONTENT WARNING: BODY IMAGE, IMPLIED BODY DYSMORPHIA I wish I had skin made of clay. I look at other women. The one’s on TV, in ads and movies and glittering pictures. They are as smooth as marble countertops. Their skin stretches across their bodies like a tailored leather glove. They are fitted. Effortless. Not one piece missing. I look at the women who have accepted their so-called “flaws,” and surround themselves with hashtags and love. They point at their scars and markings and rolls. They dance and jiggle and laugh. Their flesh is warm. Comforting. Welcoming. They seem hugged by their bodies. My stomach extends before me like a heaping bowl of quivering, rubbery fat. My thighs hang like slabs of dead meat. My hips bulge outwards like fungal growths. I shudder as I feel my arms chafe against my skin. I am locked in this prison. This bloated mass. Corpse flesh. Smiling is always a challenge. Each grin is a grimace, my lips stretch and glue themselves to my upper gums in spasms of gurning rigor mortis. Photos shift and change as I look at them. My cheeks swell like a chipmunk’s. My neck balloons like a bullfrog’s. My lips plump to a fishy pout. I want to tear them off my face. “Your hair looks great.” “That dress really suits you.” “Your auntie said you looked lovely in that photo.” “I wish I had such gorgeous skin as you.” “I think you are beautiful.” 44
I look them in the eyes. Are they lying to me? They must be lying. Why don’t they see the same thing I see? Why are they doing this? Why won’t they tell me the truth? I fucking hate mirrors. I stand with my back to them. I take off my glasses. My body becomes a pillar of white in a smudged background. I try not to touch my skin as I unzip and unbutton myself. The mirror always seems to be glaring at me, a sharp white gaze burning a hole in my back. Daring me. Come see. Come see. I don’t want to look. I pick at the skin of my cuticles, pinch the spots on my face. I scratch the shell of my inner ear, gnaw my thumb, chew my lips until they bleed. I rip in to my body, tearing piece after piece. It’s never enough. I can’t pull swathes of white skin and beating red flesh away. So I wish I had limbs made of clay. I’d sculpt my body into something different each morning. I’d smooth the skin of my stomach, round the curve of each buttock. Sculpt and hone the swell and dip of shoulders and biceps. Flatten the long planes of my back. Throttle my neck into shape. Caress my face into a smile. Make sure I’m perfect. Until it’s time to begin again.
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Come Back t
Come Back to Yourself: Excerpt from The F Excerpt from The Fall, Rise & Growth Amshalaykha Yogaraj What are you running away from? We can run away from ourselves, our self that we don’t want to be around. the self that doesn’t feel accepted or good enough for others. But when we do, We are the furthest from our truest self. Come home to yourself dear. Come back. Build you authentic self. That is where you and others will want to live in.
ard and Soft
Hard and Soft
from The Fall, Rise & Growth from The Fall, Rise &Excerpt Growth Amshalaykha Yogaraj
We are not just hard or soft beings, we are just feeling beings who use hard words, to hit soft hearts. Careful with your words. The harshness of words, can become triggers and when are hit, again, and again The walls encasing our hearts, are only made firmer to protect us.
47
erConfronting Imposter meSyndrome Libby Robbins Beavis
I set out to write a final Damsel piece having no clue
systemic biases in workplaces, including classrooms,
what to talk about, feeling like I didn’t have anything
is integral in ensuring that women don’t endure the
of worth left to say. That feeling of imposter syndrome
experiences that culminate in feelings of inadequacy
and fraud that has rather shamefully carried me
and self-doubt. Imposter syndrome doesn’t stem from
through every undergraduate tutorial and honours
the individual, but from the external systems in place
seminar started to rear its ugly head once more. The
that create those internal feelings.
more I thought about this the more I wanted to write about imposter syndrome, and feeling out of place in
Letting go of external and internal thoughts, feelings
a tutorial or unworthy of the grades or the positions
and expectations is a difficult thing to do. Learning how
you’ve gotten despite the work put in. The more I
to speak up for yourself, express your idea, assert your
tried to write that article, the harder it became. I kept
place and self-worth in an environment is a difficult
second guessing if my experiences of gender disparity
thing to do. I’ve spent the past year being both the
in classrooms weren’t valid enough, if my experiences
happiest I’ve been in a long while, and also the most
of being spoken over by a man with a louder voice than
unsure of myself, where I’m heading and my worth to
mine didn’t count as much as that of next woman’s.
society and my field of interest. This is a difficult duality of emotions to hold inside oneself on any given day.
Objectively I know this to be wrong, that the experiences
Examining the structural causes of these feelings are
of others don’t negate my own, that everyone struggles
integral to how they’re then dealt with. Recognising that
with feeling confident and worthy of being in the
the onus of imposter syndrome and self-doubt doesn’t
workplace or the classroom. I’ve spent the past five
fall on women, or others marginalised in professional
years juggling these feelings of fraudulence, with those
industries, is a necessary first step in righting the issue.
of pride in my work and my studies. As have most other
However, that’s not to say that internal reflection and
people. Every woman I’ve spoken to has at some point
work isn’t important. Being aware of how and why you
expressed feelings of imposter syndrome, of feeling out
have those moments of self-doubt or uncertainty can
of place in the classroom or workplace, of being unsure
help combat some of those feelings.
if they should speak up or share their ideas. There’s no easy fix when it comes to pushing back
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It’s been well reported that women, particularly
against imposter syndrome and the structures that
women of colour, suffer from imposter syndrome and
enable it to exist. Systemic change takes time and
self-doubt more than men. The lack of representation
effort, and far too often that falls on groups and
in leadership positions, and gender disparity in
individuals most marginalised. Creating a work or
classrooms can make women feel out of place and
study environment that empowers young women, that
unsure of themselves, their ideas, and their abilities.
values and nurtures their ideas and makes them feel a
However, labelling women with imposter syndrome
sense of belonging will help build their confidence and
or self-doubt is harmful. Placing the blame on the
self-worth. Having moments of doubt and uncertainty
individual themselves does little to combat workplace
in your work is normal, but as individuals work
inequality and the diminishing and ignoring of
through their own internal pressures, expectations and
women’s achievements and abilities. Confronting
self-doubt, external changes can and should be made.
Origin
Excerpt from The Fall Original
Excerpt from The Fall, Rise & Growth Amshalaykha Yogaraj
You’re one of a kind, hard to find, not copy and pasted, first edition. You are freshly printed, your own original. The world needs to read you, So, let your pages be read.
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men in Law Women
current appointment of Chief Justice Susan Kiefel to the High Court of Australia. Kiefel’s appointment is appropriate as it allows for different perspectives, value systems and past life experiences that are representative of women within the Australian judicature. The
in Law Grace Orsi
members of the community are sick to death of grey haired men being appointed to senior judicial positions! Another woman that is blazing a path in the field of law is Judge Carmel Barbagallo SC. Barbagallo is best known for securing the conviction of the Claremont Serial Killer, Bradley Edwards which was the largest murder trial in Western Australian history. Barbagallo lead an all-female prosecution team in securing that conviction, a feat which rarely occurs. Carmel then went onto prosecuting another murder case in WA, the death of
As a 2nd year student completing a Bachelor of Arts
teenager Hayley Dodd. In February 2021, Barbagallo
degree majoring in Law and Society and hoping to
was appointed as Judge of the District Court. In my
complete the Juris Doctor in the years to come, seeing
view, Barbagallo epitomizes hard work, the ability to not
women blazing in the field of law gives me confidence
give up and the strength that is essential in blazing a path
that I will be able to enter the field of law without fear of
in the field of law.
not being accepted or overlooked. As former Justice of the United States Supreme Court
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Women in the legal profession who obtain senior
Ruth Bader-Ginsberg stated, “if women are to be leaders
appointments become role models, mentors and key
in life, and in the military, then men have got to become
figures to women like me striving to be in similar positions
accustomed to taking commands from women... and
in the future. One of the benefits of selecting a greater
they won’t become accustomed to that if women aren’t
number of women to senior judicial appointments, is
let in”. This quotation to me highlights how men need
that it reinstates public confidence in the authenticity
to stand back and allow women to blaze a path in the
of a court hierarchy system that reflects community
field of law as we are more than capable and have the
outlooks. This notion of acceptance is apparent in the
determination to do so.
Flesh w/o consent - sarah mendon
51
Audre Lorde - Sophie Roberts
52
Mary anning - Sophie Roberts
53
Resources Wellbeing and Safety Free Services:
Important numbers
UWA Counselling & Psychological Services
Mental Health Emergency Services (24hrs) – 1300 555 788 (Metro local call) or 1800 676 922
+61 8 6488 2295 | Website: https://bit.ly/UWACAPS
UWA Medical Centre (GPS and Mental Health Nurse, Bulkbilled for students with a medicare card) +61 8 6488 2118 | Website: bit.ly/uwamedcentre
(Peel, free call). Immediate telephone response from mental health professionals. Call the nearest hospital if you cannot reach these numbers.
Lifeline (24hrs) – 13 11 14. Crisis support and suicide prevention.
UWA The Living Room Drop-in hours Monday-Friday, 11:00am-4:00pm. A drop-in wellbeing space for students to chat to peer support staff and fast-track referrals to other services.
SARC 1800 199 888. Forensic and medical support. Counselling for sexual assault or abuse
Suicide Call Back Service – 1300 659 467 Sexual Assault helpline – 1800 806 292 UWA Security – 6488 3020 UWA Security (emergency) – 6488 2222 If you or someone you know is in immediate danger, call 000 If you or someone you know is having thoughts of suicide, reach out and seek professional help. Remember you are not alone and there are a multitude of avenues that you can get support.
Women’s Department UWA Women’s Department womens@guild.uwa.edu.au | facebook.com/UWAGuildWomen Damsel Magazine damsel@guild.uwa.edu.au | https:|damseluwa.com/ UWA LGBT+ Women’s Collective facebook.com/groups/UWALGBTWomens/ UWA Women’s Access Collective facebook.com/groups/UWAWomensAccess/ UWA Women of Colour Collective facebook.com/groups/UWAWOCCollective/ 54
Acknowledgments The Damsel team wants to thank Guild Creative Officer, Xander Sinclair, for his continuous patience with us and enthusiasm to push the boundaries in order to see our vision of Loud come to fruition. Thank you to Isabella Keszi for creating our fabulous cover art. You have continued to surprise us with your talent throughout this process. Your care and contribution to this project is greatly appreciated and it has been a privilege to include your art in this year’s edition. Thank you to Luciano Spadoni for coming through for us at a moment’s notice and completely smashing it out of the park. Despite both of us only having limited interactions with you, your presence is consistently both extraordinarily calming and brightful. Finally, this magazine wouldn’t exist without the work of past Damsel editors. To the Damsel team of 1997, a time when the Women’s Collective was not even recognised as a Guild Department, thank you. The 1997 edition inspired so much of this year’s theme Loud and we have been incredibly fortunate to rework pieces from that edition into this year’s (see pg 43 and 51). To the editors and contributors of Damsels 2016, 2018, 2019 and 2020, thank you, the art, poems and anonymous contributions from these additions also appear in this year’s edition as collages as well as being featured on page 10, 11 and 39. We are forever in appreciation of all the Damsel editors who have come before us. We have learnt so much from reading your editions. All our love, Shelby and Jade xx
untitled - April Htun 55