Being a woman is gloriously complex. Being a woman requires embracing the contradictory. Being a woman can also be dangerous.

Remember the putrid and widely condemned assertion expressed by Sydney’s Sheik Hilali, in the wake of a gang rape trial, that women who do not dress according to conservative Islamic standards are like uncovered meat which invites wild cats to devour it?

Across the Indian Ocean, in South Africa (SA), there are echoes of the Hilali controversy in the aftermath of the rape of a woman at Johannesburg’s central taxi rank by men who purportedly told by-standers they were teaching her a lesson for wearing a mini-skirt.

25 year old Nwabisa Ngcukana was walking with her friends through the Noord St taxi rank when she was set upon by taxi drivers and hawkers. They reportedly tore at her clothes and digitally raped her while bystanders abused her, some dousing her head with alcohol. “As they stripped me they kept shouting that this is what I wanted. Some were sticking their finger in my vagina while others poured alcohol over my head and called me all sorts of names,” she told the Sowetan. "It was terrifying, I was crying while they were swearing at me," she said.

Nwabisa Ngcukana was eventually rescued by security guards whose duty it is to patrol the notorious rank where three other women were similarly assaulted on the same day and a spate of attacks was reported in in 2002. But they were hardly sympathetic to her plight. “Instead they mocked me and asked what was I thinking parading around in a miniskirt at a taxi rank. They further told me that three other women were stripped naked earlier for wearing a short skirt,” she said.

“When my friends came into my defence saying I had a right to wear whatever I liked they just laughed at me and said this is the kind of attitude that makes taxi drivers do these things."

"They even refused to call the police saying that they did it the last time and police did nothing.” Such a lax attitude to rape is probably as much symptomatic as it is causative. SA has the highest rate of rape in the world according to Interpol – along with the highest rate of AIDS infection. According to some reports, one South African is raped every 26 seconds.

But Nwabisa Ngcukana is an extraordinarily brave woman, determined, even in the face of violation, to assert her claim to human rights under the lauded SA constitution. Freedom of choice to wear what she chooses is a symbolic right she was prepared to fight for. Instead of hiding from her pain, three weeks later, she led a march of hundreds of toyi-toying (traditional African protest dance ) women – many wearing mini-skirts - on the Noord St taxi rank. "I am beautiful and I am strong,” she said as she walked back into the lair of her attackers.



The Mail & Guardian (M&G)reported that the women carried placards which read "Humiliating a woman is a sin before God" and "So gcoka izigcebhe masifuna (We will wear miniskirts when we want)"

Earlier that week another group of marchers led by the Remmoho Women's Forum was confronted by recalcitrant men at the taxi rank who were determined to try to disempower them. During that protest, hundreds of taxi drivers and by-standers burst into the anachronistic ANC call to arms song, Umshini Wami (Bring Me my Machine Gun), which has been re-popularised by the polygamist President-in-waiting, Jacob Zuma, who was acquitted of raping a family friend in 2006. One of the arguments put by the defence during the trial was that the alleged victim had provoked the sexual encounter by wearing a kanga (traditional sarong) during a visit to Zuma's house. The men also vowed to continue stripping women wearing miniskirts, claiming a cultural defence, and flashed their genitals at the marchers.

A spokeswoman for the Forum, Nosipho Twala, told the M & G "They were saying, 'Nathi siyakwazi ukukhumula zifebe ndini (We know how to strip like these whores)' … they assured us that no one will enter the rank wearing mini-skirts and they even threatened to shoot us."

Female journalists attempting to cover the story reported being sexually harassed while using public transport on assignment, highlighting the widespread problem of sexual assault in SA. As Twala pointed out, it’s about power, not fashion “…this is not an isolated incident. Thousands of women travel by taxi daily. Many of us are treated badly and in many cases we are sexually harassed, abused and even raped."

Some attempts were made to defend the behaviour of the taxi-rapists on cultural grounds reminiscent of the Hilali controversy. Women should dress in a dignified manner out of respect for themselves, and to avoid provocation to rape, so went the argument. But this argument was never going to wash in a country where African cultural traditions which celebrate and parade female sexuality continue to be practised: some traditional acts require women to wear a form of mini-skirt and dance bare breasted, for example. "The National House of Traditional Leaders strongly condemns those who hide behind culture or exploit it to push their personal agendas," spokesperson Mandlenkosi Amos Linda told the M & G.

"At no point has culture dictated to young lasses to wear dresses that (go) below their knees and neither has it dictated to men to assault young women who choose to wear miniskirts," Linda said. He did, however, go on to say “it is culturally correct for married women to dress properly in respect of their husbands.” This sexist notion is presumably tied up with concepts of a man’s “ownership” of his wife and, of course, his ego. This attitude clearly needs transforming if married SA women are to be beneficiaries of the same legislative protection the Traditional Leaders claimed in defence of younger women’s right to wear a mini-skirt.

And this culturally entrenched sexism is far from exclusively African. Apart from the Hilali episode, the recent up-skirting of Maxine McKew comes to mind in the Australian setting. Apologists for the Canberra Times’ blatantly sexist coverage of McKew’s victory over John Howard were quick to resurrect the “she asked for it" defence. According to this reading, if McKew didn’t want to have a photograph taken from such an invasive angle, she should have worn pants. Such comments, along with incredibly vitriolic personal attacks launched against me by posters on this blog and Crikey!, highlighted just how far gender transformation still has to go to in Australia before equality between the sexes can be celebrated.

An excellent blog post on the South African Thought Leader site written by Mandela Rhodes Scholar, Rumbi Goredema, about the Johannesburg taxi-rank rape elicited some similar responses. This is, in part, what Rumbi wrote:

At the root of the Noord Street march is this simple fact: women are tired of feeling that in order to gain acceptance (or, at the very least, respite from all the sexual innuendo), we have to regulate our bodies. We are afraid that in these bodies, which we want to be able to celebrate, we will never be seen as people…That humanity ought to extend to include our bodies. Our bodies are a part of us, and when you recognise us in your workplace, in your classroom, in your taxi as people, we demand (that’s right, I said it) that you recognise our bodies as part of our status as full human beings, and act accordingly.

Some days, I walk down my street to catch the shuttle to campus, or from the shuttle stop back home. Every time I do so, this seemingly mundane task is one that causes me great anxiety and righteous rage. I cannot walk down my street without some guy saying something. What should be a leisurely 10- to 15-minute walk from A to B has become an obstacle course in which it is my task to dodge solicitations and ignore cat calls and requests (if that, usually it’s demands) for my number from men I don’t even know, men old enough to be my father, men I have grown to hate.

Because I am female, I am, it seems fair game. Anyone who’s anyone can have a go, can yell obscenities at me and can remind me every day that no matter how smart I am, no matter what I achieve, I have breasts, and that makes me a piece of meat.

I wrote in reply:

The subjugation of women and acquisition of our bodies by men is indeed an international problem. I’m sitting at my desk in Australia – where the rape stats are no where near as alarming as those confronting SA – but I am also worried about walking to my car in a distant University car park now that it’s dark. …

(Your story) reminds me of the sexist premise that underpins the demand that women cover up. I was told by a church minister when I was 14 that I should dress more demurely because “men don’t have as much self control as women and women need to protect them from their sinfulness”. What a cop out! I responded: “Well if women are more responsible and powerful why is it that you only allow men to be in charge of congregations?” Suffice it to say he was stumped and I became a journalist.

There were encouraging posts in response to Rumbi's blog from men who reminded me why I continue to find their species attractive, despite the repellent activities of so many of them. Pheko wrote: “Women have a right to wear what they feel like without fear of harassment by men with low egos who feel better only after humiliating some powerless young woman”. And, Brent observed, “In the 50’s thousands of amazing wonderful women marched (unmolested) for the freedom of everyone and now one lady can’t even walk to a taxi rank, please political leaders tell us why not.”

But then came the posts from the ignorant, sexists flying the “she asked for it” flag. Lazola wrote “Wear whatever you like but you must not steal a limelight from the prostitutes because they might be angry at you thinking that you want to close their business down.” Someone calling himself "His Service" (whose service, I wonder? Delusions of Godly representation, perhaps?) “If you don’t want to be perceived as a slut you mustn’t be (sic) dress like one”

Being the baitable woman, I am, I replied:

To both of you: how would you judge someone who stole a tasty treat from the mouth of a child? Would it be the fault of the treat that you were tempted to act unethically and treacherously? Or, would it be a product of your basic indecency that you were unable to suppress desire unmatched by consent or invitation? And, what do you make of people being shot for their mobile phones or designer sneakers? The fault of the tempting accoutrements, perhaps?

“His Service” took issue with my reply and posted this comment addressed to me: “Your fantasy of walking the streets dressed almost with nothing without attention from the opposite sex is greatly unreal. Either you like it or you don’t what (sic) you wear will determine the number of dates you might get.” Ridiculous, illogical, sexist and without foundation – yes. But “His Service” did get me thinking about the perceived dichotomy of female sexual identity, and the apparent confusion still experienced by some men as they attempt to navigate modern male-female interactions.

On the one hand, women demand power over their own bodies – to determine with whom they have sex and on what terms. And bound up in this, is the freedom to choose how to dress – choice which spans the right to cover one's head with a hijab, in the context of secular laws that attempt to dictate women’s clothing, through to the right to wear clothing as scant as public decency laws allow.

But on the other hand, we acknowledge that our physical attractiveness to heterosexual men is also bound up with power. The femme fatale stereotype has its application. Yes, we want to be desired and the way we dress may reflect that yearning. We know a cinched waist, or a hint of cleavage, or the display of well toned legs is becoming…and we know it’s likely to attract the attention of interested men.

But here’s the catch, boys (lest there be any confusion about our intentions): we reserve the right to entertain or reject your advances. It is within our power to do so, and it is within your power to cop rejection without resort to assault and rape.

And, the bottom line is: women are more than meat. We are the sum total of body, soul, mind, heart, wit and many other characteristics that we want valued equally and collectively. We embrace the distinctions between the sexes, but we demand freedom of choice and freedom from fear in our interactions with men.

Cheris Kramerae, author of A Feminist Dictionary (1996), said “Feminism is the radical notion that women are human beings”. And we deserve and demand our human rights – it’s well past time they were recognised…all over the world.

Note: Despite multiple apologies from taxi organisations and promises to hand-deliver the assailants, along with commitments to action from government officials and police, no arrests have been made in connection with the Johannesburg taxi-rank rape.

Aside: Concurrently, as we women try to embrace our sexuality and gender specificity amidst Feminism’s Third Wave, we are accused by some members of the Sisterhood of betrayal. Last week my Facebook status read: “Julie is a feminist and she bakes. She’s also quite comfortable wearing her (ample) cleavage as an accessory: deal with it people!” Some older feminists’ suspicion of displayed female sexuality is, in effect, a form of pandering to chauvinism and it also offends me.    [read more]

Friday was the projected birth date of the baby boy I lost last year. It was a difficult day at the end of a difficult week.

My life’s been characterised by a period of emotional intensity, change and revival since I miscarried my baby last August - it was my third consecutive miscarriage. The love and care of family, friends and virtual strangers helped me survive the aftermath and the callous indifference of others.

I gave my baby a name when I lost him after carrying him in my womb for three months. He was part of me. To me, his mother, he already had an identity and I had ascribed characteristics to him...along with hopes and dreams for his future. Giving him a name has allowed him to live in my memory.

This approach to grieving for a baby lost in-utero is difficult for some to fathom. My own partner wasn’t comfortable with the idea of naming our baby - something I did quietly in my own heart. But for me, naming the pain, the grief, and the baby, aid the healing necessary for recovery from miscarriage - and, in particular, multiple miscarriages - both at a personal level and a societal one. That said, grief – particularly grief expressed for the unborn – is a very personal experience and every person responds differently to it. There’s no manual...no ten-step plan. And, in our culture, not a lot of ritual.

So, how have I coped with the sadness and sense of loss since I last wrote about my miscarriage in October? With a lot of distraction, denial and by focussing on my other identities: friend; sister; lover; partner; scholar; journalist; teacher. I’ve looked to the future; made plans; travelled – physically, mentally and emotionally. But, I haven’t been brave enough to re-visit the miscarriage medically. I underwent a barrage of tests in October and I’ve been referred to a specialist in fertility and recurrent miscarriage with a view to planning another pregnancy. But I haven’t been able to bring myself to make the appointment with her.

Yes, I’ve been busy with work...and busy focussing on me. Not in a selfish way – in a nurturing way. But the real cause of the delay has been fear...and unpreparedness. I think I needed time...for grief and to allow him to live in my memory and heart – at least long enough to have been born.

Now that his ‘birth-day’ has passed, I feel I can move on...maternally speaking. I consciously decided to give myself 12 months to recover from the miscarriage before trying to have another baby. Before the year’s up, I have 120 journalism students to get through the semester, PhD and other research to progress, and a teaching placement in South Africa to look forward to. Life is rich...I’m a multi-dimensional woman and the future is unknown. But, I’m excited by the unknown. Such possibilities; such opportunities; such hope...

Go with the angels, baby boy, and I’ll continue to walk where angels fear to tread.    [read more]

As the US Democratic nomination goes down to the wire, with Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama continuing to fight it out in the primaries, I thought I'd share with you the insights of a young American journalist.

Ryan Mock is a former student of mine - he studied Journalism and Sports Media at the University of Canberra. He now works as a baseball broadcaster in Maryland but he retains a keen interest in politics.

When I asked him for his take on the "first black-man vs. first woman Democratic presidential nomination battle", this is what he wrote in reply:


Straight away, I want to make one thing clear: I'm pro-Obama for Democratic Nominee, if for no other reason than because he is not Hillary Clinton. So, that should help you understand my position from the get-go.

Hillary Clinton is a very political animal. She has in the last 15 years gone from being relatively unknown to being one of the strongest First Ladies the US has ever known to being a Senator for the state of New York all with the intention of becoming the first female US President in 2008. She's known she'd be running for this presidency for years. So did everyone else, and the sense of excitement (amongst some) and entitlement was palpable. The US media has frequently mentioned her as being the inevitable choice for the Democrats, and that the "Clinton Political Machine" basically guarantees her ascendancy to the Oval Office. As late as November/December it was never a question, the only discussion was regarding second place. And Edwards was the logical choice for second place and a vice presidency.

Obviously, things have not quite gone according to script, and Hillary has from time to time panicked, and shown what I believe to be her true colors. The vaunted Clinton Political Machine has backfired against a candidate that seems to be more-or-less taking the high road, and she doesn't really know how to deal with it. She can take on Republicans because she can sling mud at them without fear of revolt amongst her party. She could take on other Democrats by being better prepared, smarter (which she almost certainly is), and more convincing as a leader. This has not worked against the smoother talking, more charismatic and less partisan Obama. But we'll get to that in a moment.

Clinton's biggest draw is now the fact that she is, indeed, a woman. There are many, many women out there who are lining up to vote for her entirely because she's female. They may not 100% agree with her politics, in fact they may completely disagree with her politics, but they are willing to vote for one of their own than for what they believe is actually best for them. Even Oprah's alliance with Obama has not been completely effective at swaying the general female population, and Oprah is probably the most influential female in the last 50 years in the US (yeah, I know it sounds like over-the-top hyperbole, but it's true. It's ridiculous, but it's true). Women in America are sick of seeing so many countries in the "West" (and some not necessarily in the "West": Benazir Butto comes to mind) with female leaders, strong, well respected female leaders, while America can't even get a female on the ballot. It's true, the US is long overdue on a female president. I would love to see a female president. Just not Hillary Clinton.

And here is basically why: if Hillary Clinton comes into office at the start of 2009, in 2013 the United States will still be in trouble in the Middle East, we might be in a conflict elsewhere (Venezuela? Korea? Iran? Who knows?) and the American political process will have been terribly bogged down due to Clinton's inability to play nice with others. She is the most partisan of the major candidates in either party outside of Rudy Giuliani (who thankfully bowed out. I was terrified by the idea of Rudy in office. I would have immediately moved out of the county). And partisanship at this point in American history will basically kill us. We are not liked overseas, our only two parties of note are at loggerheads over most every topic and are completely unwilling to make any concessions. Clinton will only exacerbate each of those problems. She is just too political and seems unwilling, or unable, to work with others in an actual effort to improve our nation's standing in the world. If Clinton comes into office it will indeed be politics as usual. She might be a better speaker than W., but she won't be much better as a president. And this is ignoring another salient point about political dynasties in the US. If we go Bush-Clinton-Bush-Clinton, we are in a real danger of becoming not just a two party system but a two family system. There are plenty of Bush family members already looking to run in 2012 or 2016, which is a scary thought!

That brings us to Obama, and I hope to make this section slightly shorter, which makes sense as no one knows as much about Obama as Clinton. He is somewhat unknown... even still. Now, that's not necessarily a ringing endorsement, but the unknown is still always preferable to the unwanted. He is charismatic. He is a wonderful speaker. He genuinely seems to be able to get along with members of both parties (which is odd considering he is actually the more left-wing of the two Democratic nominees...or so we believe). He is black. He is also completely unwilling to say much about his politics. So, what to make of Barack Obama?

What is his stand on the war in Iraq and war in general? Against it, but how much so is debatable. How about health care? Would like to see everyone covered but doesn't want to impose a state-sponsored health care system. How about taxes? Abortion? Immigration? In each his policy seems to be "talk about it and hope to work with everyone to find a solution." Which might just be politicalese for "I don't have any idea" or "you won't like my plan so I'm not telling you" but it also might mean he genuinely wants to work with both sides of government to get things done.

He has the opportunity to become another JFK. And in America that is high, high praise. JFK is the one president that people from both sides of the aisle truly believe could have changed things. My uber-conservative Uncle in rural Washington State still gets misty eyed about how Kennedy was different, Kennedy was ready to make some big changes in America, and the US was a much, much lesser place after Kennedy was shot. My uncle probably would have voted for Giuliani if he had a choice, now he'll probably vote for Ron Paul. Obama's "upside", to use a popular sporting term, is to become another such figure in American politics. If he is elected, it could be that everyone under the age of 30 will look back on his time in office as a golden era in American history. He also seems the most likely to be assassinated. There is still a whole lotta racism in the south, and plenty of white guys with guns who'd be willing to take a shot.

The downside of Obama is that he has no clear idea on anything. He could be just a good speaker and have nothing to back it up. It's quite possible. Some might even say probable.

But one thing is clear to me. If Obama is elected as the next president of the United States, our standing in the international community will be improved. He's an excellent speaker, people are genuinely drawn to him and I believe he will try hard not to make enemies. If Clinton is elected president, I believe the opposite is inevitable.

For my comments on the media's portrayal of Hillary Clinton see this post.

For a similar perspective, read Jane Caro's New Matilda piece on the theme here
   [read more]

I recently flew to Paris for a wedding. Envious? So you should be! It was a grand and moving affair.

The couple in question, my friend Micaela and her Flavio (yes, that is his real name!), are very much in love and clearly “meant to be”, so a wedding in the City of Love seemed apt.

He’s a former Swiss diplomat turned politician and cultural advisor to UNESCO and she’s an Italian academic,writer and radio documentarian with a PhD in German literature.

Their work brought them together in Flavio’s home town, Lugano. The catalyst for their meeting was the Swiss-German author, Hermann Hesse, about whom Micaela was making a program in which Flavio had invested. According to witnesses they were instantly besotted with one another and the passion hasn’t faded. They now share their time between Lugano, Rome and Paris. Their’s is a beautiful life.

And their wedding was as entertaining as it was beautiful, so I thought I’d share the experience with you.

The ceremony was held in the Latin Quarter’s 18th century Town Hall. Not your Oz style Town Hall – characterised by the sale of crocheted doilies, the smell of moth balls and bake-offs. Oh, no, this was an opulent building opposite the Pantheon. There was a giant marble statue of naked, entwined lovers (reminiscent of Rodin whose sculpture garden I wandered through the previous day) in the foyer, a winding staircase to climb and valuable tapestries and murals adorning the walls.

The civil nuptials lacked the familiar spiritual element but they seemed meaningful and romantic – thanks largely to my poor grasp of French and Italian which meant I had to rely on body language for interpretation. The city official conducting the ceremony described it as an EU marriage – a union of Switzerland, Italy and France with a guest list that added more nations to the mix. The Roman a capella choir Micaela sings with concluded the ceremony beautifully.

Flavio was beaming and looking fabulous in a bespoke suit and Micaela...well she’s so beautiful she defies description at any rate, but she took my breath away in a tres elegant cream silk and lace suit with ribbons in her hair.

The wedding guests included stylish European literati, academics, journalists, diplomats, UNESCO types and bankers. And there was I – trying to look like I belonged, but just glad my dress zipped up in the aftermath of 10 days of indulgence in the boulangeries, patisseries and fromageries of France. Those long walks along the Seine obviously did the trick!

The reception was held on a floating restaurant/jazz club which cruised the Seine (Ooh, look! Notre Dame; the Eiffel Tower; the Musee D’Orsay…sigh) at a languid pace on a sunny afternoon. The food was outstanding – a hybrid of Italian and French influences…citrus crusted lamb and salmon with green olive tapenade starred…alongside caviar, fine champagne and other notable drops from the elevated appellations. Micaela joined her choir for a performance in between courses and then, a noted (and rather swoon-worthy) Italian guitarist floored the crowd with an extraordinary set which concluded with a Marvin Gaye tribute. As he played “I Heard It On the Grapevine” a “very famous” elder statesman of Italian Left politics and journalism (the former editor of Il Manifesto) sat at the bar as other journos rushed to snap the shot.

Then the disc jockey commenced his duties and it went the way of so many parties in Europe I’ve been to…into a pop-culture void! It was like being in the Eurovision audience. The play-list started with The Village People (yup…with 50 Italian accents yelling “Y-uh, M-uh, C, A-uh”) moved through “Ti Amo” and Kenny Rogers’ “Lady” before reverting to what sounded like the entire "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert" soundtrack (why is it that when Europeans add popular music to an event it sounds like a gay nightclub?) On the dance floor, Flavio’s contemporaries were working their 70’s disco stuff – all gyrating hips and clicking fingers (I failed to muffle laughter). But I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The Mother of the Bride, who was concerned about Micaela and Flavio’s resistance to tradition and disappointed the wedding wasn’t being held in Rome, was clearly anxious at the outset. But she was twisting (i.e. Chuck Berry-style) by the end of the soiree and pronounced everything: the ceremony; the union; the wedding dress; even the gateau (should have been an Italian fruit cake, apparently) “tuti bellisima!”

I sat next to some friends of Flavio who revealed, under the influence of a fine Bordeaux, that until he met Micaela, his personal life resembled that of fiction’s crime-fighting Lothario, Inspector Moltalbano. But Flavio’s friends described how Micaela “conquered" the “Montalbano of Lugano” and expressed amazement at his devotion to her. I’m not surprised she succeeded where other women failed – arrestingly beautiful; talented; witty; a generous heart; highly intelligent (she speaks three languages, is learning a fourth)…I feel very inadequate listing all her assets! And, just between you and I, Flavio’s quite the catch too! Charming, intelligent, cultured, witty and affectionate - no wonder Micaela fell for him.

And the wedding was more than a celebration of Flavio and Micaela’s love. It also represented their triumph over Italian bureaucracy and strict Swiss marriage laws. Micaela kept her friends informed about her near daily struggles with the Italian bureaucrats who, through some pit-sized gap in the system, ultimately rendered her stateless and removed her access to public health cover in response to her decision to take up Parisian residency. Meanwhile, Flavio had to convince the Swiss authorities Micaela was worthy of marrying into the 'pre-eminent European culture'. A marriage license for a union with an ‘outsider’ is no mean feat in the land of neutrality!

Micaela and Flavio are now honeymooning in China before returning to their rooftop Latin Quarter nest which overlooks St Severin (the Church of the Traveller)…one of the oldest churches in Paris.

I know the grass isn’t always greener but my, oh my, their grass is lush! OK, I’m going to start chanting now: “There’s no place like home…there’s no place like home”…



   [read more]