Journal articles on the topic 'Gender identity Victoria Melbourne'

The criminal law with respect to rape continues to be a major focus of academic, feminist and community attention. Since the 1970s a number of reforms have been introduced into the statutes and procedures relating to the definition of rape and the conduct of rape cases in the courts. This paper reports on the results of a 1990 Melbourne study, involving first-hand observation and systematic written recording of the entire court proceedings in six rape trials. The intention was to examine the role extra-legal socio-cultural factors play in the presentation and interpretation of accounts given in court and the influence they have on the outcomes. The analysis explores in detail the influence of the following: use of physical force and resistance; alcohol; the victim's social, moral and particularly sexual character, and her relationship with the accused.

Mid-nineteenth-century Melbourne wanted to be more than a British outpost in southern Australia. Before its second decade, in 1854, the city founded an impressive museum-library-gallery complex. As European museums developed cast collections, Redmond Barry – Melbourne’s chief patron – filled Melbourne’s halls with a considerable selection. With time, these casts were discarded. The now lost collection seldom receives more than a passing remark in scholarship. However, these early displays in (what would become) the National Gallery of Victoria reimagined European Winckelmann-inspired curatorial models. The resulting experience made viewing into a performative action of nascent civic identity. Considered within current practice, Melbourne’s casts expose the implications of curatorial ideology.

Objective: To examine laws in three Australian jurisdictions that prohibit therapy to change or suppress a person’s sexual orientation or gender identity. Conclusions: The laws in Victoria and the ACT provide inadequate protection for clinically appropriate psychiatric practice and may deprive patients of mental health care.

Traditionally, class has been an important category of identity in discussions of political theatre. However, in recent years the concept has fallen out of favour, partly because of changes in the forces and relations of capitalist production. The conventional Marxist use of the term, which defined an individual's class position in relation to the position they occupied in the capitalist production process, seemed anachronistic in an era of globalization. Moreover, the rise of identity politics, queer theory, feminism, and post-colonialism have proffered alternative categories of identity that have displaced class as the primary marker of self. Glenn D'Cruz reconsiders the role of class in the cultural life of Australia by examining the recent work of Melbourne Workers Theatre, a theatre company devoted to promoting class-consciousness, in relation to John Frow's more recent re-conceptualization of class. He looks specifically at two of the company's plays, the award-winning Who's Afraid of the Working Class? and The Waiting Room, with reference to Frow's work on class, arguing that these productions articulate a more complex and sophisticated understanding of class and its relation to politics of race and gender today. Glenn D'Cruz teaches drama and cultural studies at Deakin University, Australia.

Identity, space and emotions, although traditionally all traditionally naturalized and delinked from the construction of one another, might also be read as formed by intertwined processes that are guided and shaped by hegemonic powers. Nonetheless, as they delineating difference within and among themselves, the consideration of these three fields and the way they work together in these shaping opens up new ways to approach the split between normative categories of identity, assigned location and adequate feelings, and their subjective perception. Tessa McWatt’s novel This Body presents the reader with two Guyanese characters, Victoria and her nephew Derek, that undergo, at many different levels, this split between subjectivity and a socially and culturally given subject position. Challenging normative ideals, Victoria struggles with her categorization as Other; an endeavour marked by her trajectories and experiences as she negotiates and redeploys a physical as well as a social space of her own in the city of London. Still, her love relationship with a British man would make her drift towards assimilation inasmuch as this affair relocates Victoria within dominant gender, ethnic and class hierarchies.

The study examined the relationship of extraversion, neuroticism, and impulsiveness with posttraumatic stress reactions of avoidance and intrusion. 36 outpatients from a Trauma Unit at a major metropolitan hospital in Melbourne (Victoria), and 24 age-matched controls completed the Impact of Event Scale, the Eysenck Personality Questionnaire Revised, and the Impulsivity Questionnaire. Intrusion symptoms were predicted both by Extraversion and Neuroticism, after controlling for age and gender, with Neuroticism making a stronger contribution to the prediction. The only predictor of Avoidance symptoms was Neuroticism. Impulsivity correlated with Intrusion symptoms but predicted them only in the trauma group. This finding, along with the observed positive associations of Extroversion with both posttraumatic symptoms, lends support to Gray's model of dispositions influencing responses to trauma, suggesting that impulsive (extroverted) neurotics are more vulnerable to posttraumatic stress than introverted ones.

Sistren Theatre Collective has been producing theatre and working with community groups in Jamaica for the last thirty-five years. Over the last decade the company has changed its profile to include male drama specialists and social workers in its team. This has come about due to new funding arrangement with the Jamaican Ministry of National Security, which won a large grant from the Inter-American Development Bank to establish the Citizen Security and Justice Programme (CSJP). The CSJP has a community outreach component in which Sistren has been employed to run socio-drama workshops and provide counselling to residents in Kingston's ‘garrison’ communities. In this article Karina Smith compares Sistren's theatre and outreach work under the CSJP programme with the group's previous theatre productions and workshops, devised when it was the leading women's popular theatre company and Women in Development non-government organization in the Caribbean region. Karina Smith is a Senior Lecturer in Literary and Gender Studies in the College of the Arts at Victoria University, Melbourne, Australia. She has published on Sistren Theatre Collective's work in Modern Drama, Theatre Research International, and in Suzanne Diamond's Compelling Confessions: the Politics of Personal Disclosure (2011). Her monograph on the Caribbean community's oral histories of migration to Victoria is forthcoming from Breakdown Press.

Background: Masculinising hormone therapy with testosterone is used to align an individual’s physical characteristics with their gender identity. Standard testosterone doses and formulations recommended for hypogonadal cisgender men are typically administered, although there are currently limited data evaluating the use of 1% testosterone gel in gender-affirming hormone therapy regimens. Objectives: The objective of the study was to assess the prescription patterns and serum total testosterone concentrations achieved with 1% testosterone gel in trans and gender diverse individuals. Materials and Methods: A retrospective cross-sectional analysis was undertaken of trans individuals at a primary and secondary care clinic in Melbourne, Australia. Sixty-seven individuals treated with 1% testosterone gel were included. Primary outcomes were testosterone dose and serum total testosterone concentration achieved. Results: Median age was 25 (22–30) years and median duration of testosterone therapy was 12 (7–40) months. Thirty-five (52%) individuals had a nonbinary gender identity. Initial median testosterone dose was 25 mg (12.5–31.3) daily. Fifty-two (78%) individuals commenced doses <50 mg daily, the recommended starting dose for hypogonadal cisgender men. Median total testosterone concentration achieved was 11.9 nmol/l (7.3–18.6). Polycythaemia (haematocrit >0.5) was documented in eight of 138 (6%) laboratory results in six individuals. Discussion and Conclusions: One percent testosterone gel achieves serum total testosterone concentrations in the cisgender male reference range. A high proportion of individuals had a nonbinary gender identity and most individuals commenced a lower dose than that typically administered to hypogonadal cisgender men, potentially related to slow or ‘partial’ masculinisation goals.

Given the fact that girlhood studies is a new area of investigation which intriguingly demonstrates various ways through which girlhood is structured by different social and cultural codes, we intend to examine girl characters in The Red Queen collection as it was the New York Times Best Selling series. This investigation reveals the way cultural and social norms prescribe specific gender roles and shape different versions of girl characters in this series. To find girl stereotypes in The Red Queen collection, such girlhood theories as Girl Power, Reviving Ophelia, #LIKEAGIRL, Girl Effect and Girl Up have been taken into consideration. Various depictions of girlhood in The Red Queen collection are represented through characters who have different ethnic backgrounds and come from different social classes. This implies that the formation of girl identity has a lot to do with social, economic, political and cultural structures. However, identity formation, as we see in the collection, is an ongoing process and can change in the course of an individual’s self-development.

Studies have suggested that traditional gender identity constructions of farmers tend to accompany conventional methods of farming and so are implicated in stalling the transition to sustainable agriculture. This article attempts to build on this work by exploring how young male farmers construct their masculine identities and how those identity constructions shape and are shaped by their farming practices and the social conditions in which those farming practices are carried out. Reflexivity is a significant part of this process. This exploratory study is based on focus group discussions conducted in one locality in Northern Victoria, among young male dairy farmers. Analysis of the findings supports the existence of a traditional-modern dualism in rural masculine identities. What is also evident is that more open and flexible masculine identities are emerging among young farmers, suggesting that existing tensions in agriculture situated at the nexus of alternative farming practices and traditional agrarian ideology might be a catalyst for change toward more equitable gender relations and sustainable ways of farming.

Avigail Eisenberg is an Associate Professor in the Department of Political Science, University of Victoria. She was also a fellow of CRÉUM during the 2004-2005 academic year. She has written important work on the issues of identity, race, gender, minority rights, and in particular, Aboriginal claims. Her writing displays intelligent and acute commentaries in which she demonstrates an ability to tackle difficult questions in a refreshing way. A list of her publications is available at http://web.uvic.ca/polisci/eisenberg/pubs.htm. Martin Blanchard of CRÉUM asked Professor Eisenberg if she would be willing to be interviewed via email on the subject of an article she had just finished writing, entitled “Reasoning about the Identity of Aboriginal People”. (This text is forthcoming in Accommodating Cultural Diversity: Contemporary Issues in Theory and Practice, Stephen Tierney ed., London: Ashgate.) She kindly accepted to answer his questions.

Gender identity is nowadays widely agreed to be socio-culturally constructed. Children’s books may have a powerful impact on such constructions, particularly in the mid-twentieth century before the supremacy of television and digital media. Much popular children’s fiction of this period has been dismissed as conforming to, rather than challenging, gender stereotypes. Is this in fact too simplistic a picture? Victoria Flanagan (Into the Closet; Reframing Masculinity) has theorised that in children’s adventure fiction females take on male identities to gain agency, often very successfully, while males perform femininity less successfully and generally with comedic effect. This study of six cases of cross-dressing in British children’s fiction does not support this view. Cross-dressing may be primarily a plot device aimed at heightening the mystery and tension; female cross-dressers may be passive and ‘feminine’, while males may in fact outperform females in the ‘opposite’ gender role and on occasion gain an agency through that cross-dressing which was denied them in their male attire. In all the cases explored here, the cross-dresser was a subsidiary character rather than a protagonist, and this may be key to determining how cross-dressing is portrayed.

Student Evaluation of Teaching (SET) results play an important role in academic staff performance evaluation, but also in promotion processes. However, there is much evidence to suggest that the SET used in most universities across the Anglosphere has traditionally penalised female academics. As universities manage the recovery phase of the COVID-19 pandemic, they will also need to take into account the effect of remote teaching on the validity of student evaluation data. Given SET are critical to promotion success, it is important to then understand the gendered effect of remote teaching on student evaluations. We aimed to evaluate how intrusions of family life, academics’ home environment and competence with remote teaching technology of female academics were viewed by students and if there were noticeable differences in SET data. We analysed 22,485 SET data over 2019 (pre-COVID, face-to-face teaching) and 2020 (COVID-lockdowns, remote teaching) for female and male academics, matched with student gender, in the multidisciplinary First Year College at Victoria University, Melbourne Australia. Our results showed that there were no differences in the score ratings for teacher gender. However, the qualitative data showed that whilst overall there were overwhelmingly positive comments for both male and female teachers, there was an increase in the negative comments on teaching style by male students toward their female teachers during remote teaching and overall more comments relating to attitude. We speculate that this would have a negative impact on the confidence of teaching-intensive female academics hindering their leadership aspirations and career progression in academia.

Issues of language shift (LS) and language maintenance (LM) are inevitable consequences of globalization and increased mobility of human populations. This qualitative case study investigated attitudes of migrant parents from Iran towards Persian community language maintenance (CLM) for their school-age children in Australia. Ten parents residing in Melbourne, Victoria were interviewed in two groups and demographic data were collected. The participants were seven female and three male parents who had at least one school-age child. In this qualitative case study, data were analyzed thematically. Three major themes concerning Persian CLM were identified: parents’ attitudes, strategies adopted for maintenance, and challenges for their children. The parents believed that CLM supported cultural identity, preserved family cohesion, and fostered bilingualism, all of which were considered valuable future skills for their children. Interviewees adopted diverse strategies including the establishment of family language use policies, sending their children to Iranian community language school, frequent contacts with extended family in Iran, and the use of Persian media and literature. The influential role of siblings and peers in their children’s language shift, and a lack of age-appropriate Persian books and visual materials were the main challenges to CLM mentioned by the parents in this research.

IntroductionBeing transgender is frequently accompanied by gender dysphoria, which often coexists with mental health concerns. Increased referrals of transgender and gender diverse (TGD) youth to gender clinics have been observed in many countries. Nevertheless, there are limited empirical data on the presentation and outcomes of these patients, and there is an urgent need for more evidence to ensure optimal medical and psychosocial interventions. Here, we describe Trans20, a longitudinal study of TGD patients attending a multidisciplinary paediatric gender service in Melbourne, Australia. Trans20 aims to understand the demographic and clinical characteristics of these patients, to document the natural history of gender diversity presenting in childhood and to investigate long-term outcomes for those receiving interventions.Methods and analysisTrans20 is a prospective cohort study based on children and adolescents first seen at the Royal Children’s Hospital Gender Service (RCHGS) between February 2017 and February 2020. Current estimates indicate the final sample size will be approximately 600. Patients and their parents complete online questionnaires prior to the first appointment with RCHGS and regularly thereafter as part of routine clinical care. On discharge from RCHGS, patients are invited to continue undertaking questionnaires biennially. In this way, a naturally forming cohort study has been created. The primary outcomes include gender dysphoria, physical and mental health, schooling, family functioning and quality of life. Subgroup analyses based on factors such as gender identity, birth-assigned sex and treatment received will be performed using bivariate and multivariate modelling as appropriate, and relevant statistical methods will be applied for the repeated measures over time.Ethics and disseminationThe Royal Children's Hospital Human Research Ethics Committee approved this study (#36323). Findings from Trans20 will have translational impact by informing future treatment guidelines and gender affirming healthcare practices and will be disseminated through conferences and peer reviewed journals.

Many higher education institutions are moving towards blended learning environments that seek to move towards a student-centred ethos, where students are stakeholders in the learning process. This often involves multi-modal learner-support technologies capable of operating in a range of time and place settings. This article considers the impact of an Audience Response System (ARS) upon the ongoing development of an Information Systems Professional course at the Masters level in the College of Business at Victoria University in Melbourne, Australia. The course allows students to consider ethical issues faced by an Information Systems Professional. Given the sensitivity of some of the topics explored within this area, an ARS offers an ideal vehicle for allowing students to respond to potentially contentious questions without revealing their identity to the rest of the group. The paper reports the findings of a pilot scheme designed to explore the efficacy of the technology. Use of a blended learning framework to frame the discussion allowed the authors to consider the readiness of institution, lecturers, and students to use ARS. From a usage viewpoint, multiple choice questions lead to further discussion of student responses related to important issues in the unit. From an impact viewpoint the use of ARS in the class appeared to be successful, but some limitations were reported.

Background Digital technology and social media use are common among young people in Australia and worldwide. Research suggests that young people have both positive and negative experiences online, but we know little about the experiences of Muslim communities. Objective This study aims to explore the positive and negative experiences of digital technology and social media use among young people and parents from Muslim backgrounds in Melbourne, Victoria, Australia. Methods This study involved a partnership between researchers and a not-for-profit organization that work with culturally and linguistically diverse communities. We adopted a participatory and qualitative approach and designed the research in consultation with young people from Muslim backgrounds. Data were collected through in-person and online focus groups with 33 young people aged 16-22 years and 15 parents aged 40-57 years. Data were thematically analyzed. Results We generated 3 themes: (1) maintaining local and global connections, (2) a paradoxical space: identity, belonging and discrimination, and (3) the digital divide between young Muslims and parents. Results highlighted that social media was an important extension of social and cultural connections, particularly during COVID-19, when people were unable to connect through school or places of worship. Young participants perceived social media as a space where they could establish their identity and feel a sense of belonging. However, participants were also at risk of being exposed to discrimination and unrealistic standards of beauty and success. Although parents and young people shared some similar concerns, there was a large digital divide in online experiences. Both groups implemented strategies to reduce social media use, with young people believing that having short technology-free breaks during prayer and quality family time was beneficial for their mental well-being. Conclusions Programs that address technology-related harms must acknowledge the benefits of social media for young Muslims across identity, belonging, representation, and social connection. Further research is required to understand how parents and young people can create environments that foster technology-free breaks to support mental well-being.

This article explores how performance and character can be used to represent the lives of real women in spaces of heritage. It focuses on two different site-specific performances created by the author in the South Ayrshire region of Scotland: CauseWay: The Story of the Alloway Suffragettes and In Hidden Spaces: The Untold Stories of the Women of Rozelle House. These were created with a practice-as-research methodology and aim to offer new models for the use of character in site-specific performance practice. The article explores the variety of methods and techniques used, including verbatim writing, spatial exploration, and Herstorical research, in order to demonstrate the ways in which women’s narratives were represented in a theoretically informed, site-specific manner. Drawing on Phil Smith’s mythogeography, and responding to Laurajane Smith’s work on gender and heritage, the conflicting tensions of identity, performance, and authenticity are drawn together to offer flexible characterization as a new model for the creation of feminist heritage performance. Victoria Bianchi is a theatre-maker and academic in the School of Education at the University of Glasgow. Her work explores the relationship between space, feminism, and identity. She has written and performed work for the National Trust for Scotland, Camden People’s Theatre, and Assembly at Edinburgh, among other institutions.

Soft images of pubescent women scaling the dizzy heights of a massive phallic rock in turn-of-the-century rural Victoria, and young men matching physical prowess in the indomitable Western Australian desert as World War I rages in Europe, provide foci for two of Peter Weir's most successful early films, Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) and Gallipoli (1981). In both these films the physical landscape is simultaneously integrated with and contrasted to the passions of young men and women. The result is an aesthetic that takes the viewer beyond the immediate narrative to a place where masculinity and femininity find expression. In this paper, transactional and psychoanalytic perspectives are used to interrogate the gender images which are portrayed in both these movies, linking them to some concepts which find currency in ecofeminism. The concern is with the individual struggle between the powerful, complex, and yet less-than-rational forces that are integral to the nature of our individual beings and the rational nature of prevailing societal values that supposedly provide us with guidance. A dynamic theory of contemporary film is implicit in our discussion of “images in motion over time through space with sequence”. These elements—along with an overlay of shape, size, scale, color, sound, and light—arc the cues that provide meaning for Weir's portrayal of wo/man-in-environmcnt relations. Suggested in this paper is a broader narrative which speaks to a postmodern sexual order and its representations in social theory and contemporary cinema. Crucial questions are raised regarding the ways that cultural identity is grounded in class and gender.

IntroductionOptimal early childhood development is an international priority. Risks during pregnancy and early childhood have lasting effects because growth is rapid. We will test whether a complex intervention addressing multiple modifiable risks: maternal nutrition, mental health, parenting capabilities, infant health and development and gender-based violence, is effective in reducing deficient cognitive development among children aged two in rural Vietnam.Methods and analysisThe Learning Clubs intervention is a structured programme combining perinatal stage-specific information, learning activities and social support. It comprises 20 modules, in 19 accessible, facilitated groups for women at a community centre and one home visit. Evidence-informed content is from interventions to address each risk tested in randomised controlled trials in other resource-constrained settings. Content has been translated and culturally adapted for Vietnam and acceptability and feasibility established in pilot testing.We will conduct a two-arm parallel-group cluster-randomised controlled trial, with the commune as clustering unit. An independent statistician will select 84/112 communes in Ha Nam Province and randomly assign 42 to the control arm providing usual care and 42 to the intervention arm. In total, 1008 pregnant women (12 per commune) from 84 clusters are needed to detect a difference in the primary outcome (Bayley Scales of Infant and Toddler Development Cognitive Score <1 SD below standardised norm for 2 years of age) of 15% in the control and 8% in the intervention arms, with 80% power, significance 0.05 and intracluster correlation coefficient 0.03.Ethics and disseminationMonash University Human Research Ethics Committee (Certificate Number 20160683), Melbourne, Victoria, Australia and the Institutional Review Board of the Hanoi School of Public Health (Certificate Number 017-377IDD- YTCC), Hanoi, Vietnam have approved the trial. Results will be disseminated through a comprehensive multistranded dissemination strategy including peer-reviewed publications, national and international conference presentations, seminars and technical and lay language reports.Trial registration numberACTRN12617000442303; Pre-results.

157 Background: Pediatric brain tumor survivors (PBTS) often experience late effects in social functioning that mirror those seen in children with autism spectrum disorder (ASD). This study evaluated group differences in facial processing abilities and social functioning between school-aged PBTS, children with ASD, and typically developing children (TDC). Methods: PBTS(n=40;65% male; mean age=13.9 years; mean age at diagnosis=5.8 years)were at least 5 years from tumor diagnosis,2 years from end of tumor-directed therapy and absent a multi-system genetic disorder or developmental delay before tumor diagnosis. Participants completed measures of IQ, facial affect/identity recognition(Victoria/Yale Face Processing Battery), and social functioning(Children’s Communication Checklist-2, Vineland Adaptive Behavior Scales,2nd Ed. and Social Responsiveness Scale, 2nd Ed.).PBTS data were compared to a previously collected sample of age, gender, and IQ-matched children with ASD(n=41)and TDC (n=39).One-way ANOVA evaluated differences between groups with Tukey post-hoc tests.Results: IQ for PBTS(m=100.9; SD=16.27),ASD(m=100.17; SD=17.09),and TDC(m=104.72; SD=14.0)were all in the average range.One-way ANOVA revealed group differences for facial identity recognition[ F (2,114)=4.8 η²=.09 , p=.01],facial affect recognition[ F (2, 114)=3.8 , η²=.07, p=.024],and all social functioning measures[ p=.000].Tukey tests revealed PBTS facial affect recognition to be significantly worse than TDC(p < .05)and more comparable to youth with ASD for both facial affect and identity recognition.PBTS also showed worse social functioning than TDC and better than ASD youth across social measures( p’s < .01).Conclusions: Findings suggest PBTS demonstrate impairments in facial affect and identity recognition and social functioning compared to TDC.PBTS facial processing abilities appear similar to those of youth with ASD.PBTS may benefit from multi-disciplinary interventions similar to those used in ASD to improve social functioning. Screening facial processing abilities may identify those at higher risk for social functioning deficits.

Aim: Feminising hormone therapy with estradiol is used to align an individual’s physical characteristics with their gender identity. Given considerable variations in doses of estradiol therapy administered as gender-affirming hormone therapy (GAHT), we aimed to assess if body mass index (BMI) correlated with estradiol dose/concentration and assess the correlation between estradiol dose and estradiol concentrations. Methods: In a retrospective cross-sectional study, we analysed transgender individuals attending a primary or secondary care clinic in Melbourne, Australia who were prescribed oral estradiol valerate for at least 6 months and had estradiol dose and concentration available. Estradiol concentration was measured by immunoassay. Outcomes were the correlation between estradiol dose and BMI, and estradiol dose and estradiol concentration. Results: Data were available for 259 individuals {median age 25.8 [interquartile range (IQR) 21.9, 33.5] years}. Median duration of estradiol therapy was 24 (15, 33) months. Median estradiol concentration was 328 (238, 434) pmol/l [89 (65, 118) pg/ml] on 6 (4, 8) mg estradiol valerate. Median BMI was 24.7 (21.8, 28.6) kg/m2. There was a weak positive correlation between estradiol dose and estradiol concentration ( r = 0.156, p = 0.012). There was no correlation between BMI and estradiol concentration achieved ( r = −0.063, p = 0.413) or BMI and estradiol dose ( r = 0.048, p = 0.536). Estradiol concentrations were within the target range recommended in consensus guidelines in 172 (66%) individuals. Conclusion: Estradiol dose was only weakly correlated with estradiol concentration, suggesting significant interindividual variability. Prescription of estradiol dose should not be based upon an individual’s BMI, which did not correlate with estradiol concentration achieved. In all, 66% of individuals achieved estradiol concentrations recommended in Australian consensus guidelines with a relatively high oral estradiol dose.

As a theatre and gender studies double major at the University of Victoria, I have been ableto critically think about the ways each of my fields of study could benefit the other. In myexperience, many courses in the UVic Department of Theatre generally focus on dramatic texts andtheoretical literature written by white men. Consequently, contributions to the theatre by women,people of colour, and/or non-Western theatre practitioners are largely dismissed or ignored. Myfrustration with this pattern was what led me to create Big Daddy Lives or Don’t Say the F Word,a part scripted, part devised performance piece that staged scenes from classic and contemporaryplays using directing theory written by feminists, for feminists. I curated the excerpts, wrote thetransition-text, and directed the play using an intersectional feminist framework. The project wasan experiment in applying intersectional feminism to theatre directing in order to critique the waythe male-dominated canon of plays and theories shapes theatre education. Through this project, Ifound that intersectional feminist directing techniques foster collaboration; encourage discussionand mutual education about identity, oppression, and representation; and can be applied to theproduction of both classics and contemporary feminist plays and to the creation of new work by anensemble.

Public museums and art galleries in Canada are highly authoritative, and trusted knowledge and identity mobilising institutions, whose exhibitions are frequently a ‘blank page’ of erasure, silencing, and marginalisation, in terms of women’s histories, experiences, and contributions. Feminist exhibitions are a response to this, but few in Canada have been explored as practices of feminist community adult education. I begin to address this gap with an analysis of two feminist exhibitions: In Defiance: Indigenous Women Define Themselves, curated by Mohawk-Iroquois artist, Lindsay Katsitsakatste Delaronde, at the Legacy Gallery, University of Victoria; and Fashion Victims: The Pleasures & Perils of Dress in the 19th Century, curated by Ryerson Professor Alison Matthews David, at the Bata Shoe Museum, Toronto. Although dissimilar in form, focus, and era, these exhibitions act as powerful intentional pedagogical processes of disruption and reclamation, using images and storytelling to animate, re-write and reimagine the ‘blank pages’ of particular and particularised histories and identities. Through the centrality of women’s bodies and practices of violence, victimization, and women’s power, these exhibitions encourage the feminist oppositional imagination, dialogic looking, gender consciousness, and a visual literacy of hope and possibility. Yet, as women’s stories become audible through the very representational vehicles and institutional spaces used to silence them, challenges remain.

- R.H. Barnes, Janet Hoskins, Biographical objects; How things tell the stories of people’s lives. London: Routledge, 1998, x + 213 pp. - Peter Boomgaard, Ann Kumar, Java and modern Europe; Ambiguous encounters. Richmond, Surrey: Curzon, 1997, vii + 472 pp. - Peter Boomgaard, Lenore Manderson, Sickness and the state; Health and illness in colonial Malaya, 1870-1940. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996, xix + 315 pp. - Matthew Isaac Cohen, Bambang Widoyo, Gapit; 4 naskah drama berbahasa Jawa: Rol, Leng, Tuk dan Dom. Yogyakarta: Yayasan Benteng Budaya, 1998, xiv + 302 pp. - James T. Collins, Bernd Nothofer, Reconstruction, classification, description; Festschrift in honor of Isidore Dyen. Hamburg: Abera, 1996, xiv + 259 pp. - J.R. Flenley, Kristina R.M. Beuning, Modern pollen rain, vegetation and climate in lowland East Java, Indonesia. Rotterdam: Balkema, 1996, 51 pp. + 49 plates. [Modern Quaternary Research in Southeast Asia 14.] - Gregory Forth, Karl-Heinze Kohl, Der Tod der Riesjungfrau; Mythen, Kulte und Allianzen in einer ostindonesischen Lokalkultur. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1998, 304 pp. [Religionsethnologische Studien des Frobenius-Instituts Frankfurt am Main, Band I.] - J. van Goor, Brook Barrington, Empires, imperialism and Southeast Asia; Essays in honour of Nicholas Tarling. Clayton, Victoria: Monash Asia Institute, 1997, v + 250 pp. [Monash Papers on Southeast Asia 43.] - Mies Grijns, Penny van Esterik, Women of Southeast Asia. DeKalb: Center for Southeast Asian Studies, Northern Illinois University, 1996, xiv + 229 pp. ‘Monographs on Southeast Asia, Occasional Paper 17; Second, revised edition.] - Hans Hagerdal, Alfons van der Kraan, Bali at war; A history of the Dutch-Balinese conflict of 1846-49. Clayton, Victoria: Centre of Southeast Asian Studies, Monash University, 1995, x + 240 pp. [Monash Papers on Southeast Asia 34]. - Volker Heeschen, Jurg Wassmann, Das Ideal des leicht gebeugten Menschen; Eine ethnokognitive Analyse der Yupno in Papua New Guinea. Berlin: Reimer, 1993, xiii + 246 pp. - Nico Kaptein, Masykuri Abdillah, Responses of Indonesian Muslim intellectuals to the concept of democracy (1966-1993). Hamburg: Abera, 1997, iv + 304 pp. - Niels Mulder, Ivan A. Hadar, Bildung in Indonesia; Krise und kontinuitat; Das Beispiel Pesantren. Frankfurt: IKO-Verlag fur Interkulturelle Kommunikation, 1999, 207 pp. - Niels Mulder, Jim Schiller, Imagining Indonesia: Cultural politics and political culture. Athens: Ohio University, 1997, xxiii + 351 pp. [Monographs in International Studies, Southeast Asia Series 97.], Barbara Martin-Schiller (eds.) - J.W. Nibbering, Raymond L. Bryant, The political ecology of forestry in Burma 1824-1994. London: Hurst, 1997, xiii + 257 pp. - Hetty Nooy-Palm, Douglas W. Hollan, Contentment and suffering; Culture and experience in Toraja. New York: Columbia University Press, 1994, xiii + 276 pp., Jane C. Wellenkamp (eds.) - Anton Ploeg, Bill Gammage, The sky travellers; Journeys in New Guinea, 1938-1939. Carlton South, Victoria: Melbourne University Press, 1998. x + 292 pp. - Anton Ploeg, Jurg Wassmann, Pacific answers to Western hegemony; Cultural practices of identity construction. Oxford: Berg, 1998, vii + 449 pp. - John Villiers, Abdul Kohar Rony, Bibliography; The Portugese in Southeast Asia: Malacca, Moluccas, East Timor. Hamburg: Abera Verlag, 1997, 138 pp. [Abera Bibliographies 1.], Ieda Siqueira Wiarda (eds.) - Lourens de Vries, Ulrike Mosel, Saliba. Munchen/Newcastle: Lincom Europa, 1994, 48 pp. [Languages of the World/Materials 31.]

The authors’ research attention is focused on the specifics of the Australian memorial practices dedicated to the World War I. The statement is substantiated that in the Australian context memorials and military monuments formed a special post-war and post-traumatic part of the visual memory of the first Australian global military conflict. The features of the Australian memorial concept are clarified, the social function of the monuments and their important role in the psychological overcoming of the trauma and bitter losses experienced are noted. The multifaceted aspects of visualization of the monumental memory of the World War I in Australia are analyzed. Monuments and memorials are an important part of Australia’s visual heritage. It is concluded that each Australian State has developed its own concept of memory, embodied in various types and nature of monuments. The main ones are analyzed in detail: Shrine of Remembrance in Melbourne (1928–1934); Australian War Memorial in Canberra (1941); Sydney Cenotaph (1927-1929) and Anzac Memorial in Sydney (1934); Desert Mounted Corps Memorial in Western Australia (1932); Victoria Memorials: Avenue of Honour and Victory Arch in Ballarat (1917-1919), Australian Ex-Prisoners of War Memorial (2004), Great Ocean Road – the longest nationwide memorial (1919-1932); Hobart War Memorial in the Australian State of Tasmania (1925), as well as Villers-Bretonneux Australian National Memorial in France dedicated to French-Australian cooperation during the World War I (1938). The authors demonstrate an inseparable connection between the commemorative practices of Australia and the politics of national identity, explore the trends in the creation and development of memorial practices. It is noted that the overwhelming majority of memorial sites are based on the clearly expressed function of a place of memory, a place of mourning and commemoration. It was found that the representation of the memorial policy of the memory of Australia in the first post-war years was implemented at the beginning at the local level and was partially influenced by British memorial practices, transforming over time into a nationwide cultural resource.

The authors’ research attention is focused on the specifics of the Australian memorial practices dedicated to the World War I. The statement is substantiated that in the Australian context memorials and military monuments formed a special post-war and post-traumatic part of the visual memory of the first Australian global military conflict. The features of the Australian memorial concept are clarified, the social function of the monuments and their important role in the psychological overcoming of the trauma and bitter losses experienced are noted. The multifaceted aspects of visualization of the monumental memory of the World War I in Australia are analyzed. Monuments and memorials are an important part of Australia’s visual heritage. It is concluded that each Australian State has developed its own concept of memory, embodied in various types and nature of monuments. The main ones are analyzed in detail: Shrine of Remembrance in Melbourne (1928–1934); Australian War Memorial in Canberra (1941); Sydney Cenotaph (1927-1929) and Anzac Memorial in Sydney (1934); Desert Mounted Corps Memorial in Western Australia (1932); Victoria Memorials: Avenue of Honour and Victory Arch in Ballarat (1917-1919), Australian Ex-Prisoners of War Memorial (2004), Great Ocean Road – the longest nationwide memorial (1919-1932); Hobart War Memorial in the Australian State of Tasmania (1925), as well as Villers-Bretonneux Australian National Memorial in France dedicated to French-Australian cooperation during the World War I (1938). The authors demonstrate an inseparable connection between the commemorative practices of Australia and the politics of national identity, explore the trends in the creation and development of memorial practices. It is noted that the overwhelming majority of memorial sites are based on the clearly expressed function of a place of memory, a place of mourning and commemoration. It was found that the representation of the memorial policy of the memory of Australia in the first post-war years was implemented at the beginning at the local level and was partially influenced by British memorial practices, transforming over time into a nationwide cultural resource.

Abstract Australia’s gold-rush history has long been dominated by narratives of male adventure: of landscapes where men lived side by side, mateship took on increasing importance in the pursuit of gold, masculine behaviours and manners were emphasized and domesticity was shunned. In the early years of the rich discoveries of gold, men often travelled alone to the colony of Victoria in their search for wealth. This article examines a situation this unique environment created: where men unaccompanied by women – although women, too, were present on the diggings – were required to adopt practices perceived as feminine. It focuses in on needlework to explore the tensions that emerged given sewing was a defining female occupation during the nineteenth century, inhabiting a central place in the female experience. As this article highlights, sewing became an essential practice for men on the Victorian goldfields in order to keep themselves clothed, warm and dry. I consider how men approached their sewing tasks given needlework’s inextricable link with women, and the various strategies they used to frame their sewing in letters, diaries and memoirs – sometimes for close friends and family alone, and other times for wider dissemination. Drawing on sociological frameworks on constructions of gender, masculinity and manliness, I then consider how a shifting engagement with domestic practices may have strengthened rather than challenged identity on the goldfields.

- Victoria J. Baker, Anthony Jackson, Anthropology at home, ASA monographs 25, London: Tavistock Publications, 1987, 221 pages. - Thomas Bargatzky, Martin A. van Bakel, Private politics; A multi-disciplinary approach to ‘Big-Man’ systems, Studies in Human Society, Vol. I, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1986. x, 220 pp., illustrations, maps, index., Renée R. Hagesteijn, Pieter van de Velde (eds.) - W.E.A. van Beek, Victor W. Turner, The anthropology of experience, (with an epilogue by Clifford Geertz). Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1986., Edward M. Bruner (eds.) - W. van den Broeke, H. Meyer, De Deli Spoorweg Maatschappij; Driekwart eeuw koloniaal spoor, Zutphen: Walburg Pers, met medewerking van F.A.J. Heckler. 1987; 152 blz. - R. Buijtenhuijs, S. Bernus et al., Le fils et le neveu: Jeux et enjeux de la parenté tourarègue, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge/Editions de la Maison des Sciences de l’Homme, Paris, 1986, XI, 343 pp. - R. Buijtenhuijs, Dominique Casajus, La tente dans la solitude: La société et les morts chez les Touaregs Kel Ferwan, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge/Editions de la Maison des Sciences de l’Homme, Paris, 1987, 390 pp. - H.J.M. Claessen, Christine Ward Gailey, Kinship to kingship; Gender hierarchy and state formation in the Tongan Islands. Austin: University of Texas Press (Texas Press Sourcebooks in Anthropology, No. 14.), 1987. 326 pp., figs., index, bibl. - Alfred E. Daniëls, Richard B. Davis, Muang metaphysics, Bangkok: Pandora Press,1984. - Alfred E. Daniëls, Gehan Wijeyewardene, Place and emotion in northern Thai ritual behaviour, Bangkok: Pandora Press, 1986. - P.M.H. Groen, Jacques van Doorn, The process of decolonization 1945-1975; The military experience in comparitive perspective, CASP publications no. 17, Erasmus Universiteit Rotterdam, 1987, 46 pp., Willem J. Hendrix (eds.) - Rosemarijn Hoefte, Luis H. Daal, Antilliaans verhaal. Zutphen: De Walburg Pers, 1988, Ted Schouten (eds.) - W.L. Idema, Claudine Salmon, Literary migrations; Traditional Chinese fiction in Asia (17th-20th centuries), Beijing: International culture publishing corporation, 1987, 11 + vi + 661 pp. - P.E. de Josselin de Jong, Sharon A. Carstens, Cultural identity in Northern Peninsular Malaysia, Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Monographs in international studies, Southeast Asia series no. 63, 1986. 91 pp. - P.E. de Josselin de Jong, Robert Wessing, The soul of ambiguity: The tiger in Southeast Asia. Northern Illinois University, Center for Southeast Asian studies, Special report no. 24, 1986. 148 pp., glossary, bibliography. - G.W. Locher, Martine Segalen, Historical anthropology of the family, Cambridge University Press, 1986, 328 pp. - Bernd Nothofer, Hans Kähler, Enggano-Deutsches Wörterbuch. Aus dem Nachlass herausgegeben und mit einem Deutsch-Enggano-Wörterverzeichnis versehen von Hans Schmidt, Veröffentlichungen des Seminars für Indonesische und Südseesprachen der Universität Hamburg, Band 14, Berlin: Dietrich Reimer Verlag, 1987. XIII + 404 pp. - J.D.M. Platenkamp, Brigitte Renard-Clamagirand, Marobo; Une société ema de Timor. Langues et civillisations de l’Asie du sud-est et du monde insulindien no. 12, Paris: Selaf, 1983, 490 pp. - H.C.G. Schoenaker, Leo Frobenius, Ethnographische Notizen aus den Jahren 1905 und 1906; II: Kuba, Leele, Nord-Kete; III: Luluwa, Süd-Kete, Bena Mai, Pende, Cokwe. Bearb.u.hrsg. von Hildegard Klein. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1987; 1988. 223 S., 437 Zeichnungen, 11 fotos, 5 karten; 268 S., 500 Zeichnungen, 15 fotos, 12 karten. - M. Schoffeleers, I.M. Lewis, Religion in context: Cults and charisma, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986, X + 139 pp. - B. Schuch, Ingrid Liebig-Hundius, Thailands Lehrer zwischen ‘Tradition’ und `Fortschritt’; Eine empirische Untersuchung politisch-sozialer und pädagogischer Einstellungen thailändischer Lehrerstudenten des Jahres 1974. Beiträge zur Südasienforschung, Band 85, Weisbaden: Steiner Verlag, 1984, 342 pp. - Henke Schulte Nordholt, S.J. Tambiah, Thought and social action; An anthropological perspective, Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard Univ. Press, 1985, 411 pp. - Nico G. Schulte Nordholt, Shamsul Amri Baharuddin, From British to Bumiputra rule: Local politics and rural development in Peninsular Malaysia, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian studies, 1986. 282 pp. - A. Teeuw, I. Syukri, History of the Malay kingdom of Patani - Sejarah Kerajaan Melayu Patani, by Ibrahim Syukri (pseudonym), translated by Conner Bailey and John N. Miksic. Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Center for International studies, monographs in international studies Southeast Asia series number 68, 1985. xx + 90 pp. - Truong Quang, Andrew Vickerman, The fate of the peasantry: Premature `transition to socialism’ in the democratic republic of Vietnam, Monograph No. 28, Yale University, Southeast Asia studies, 1986. 373 pp., incl. bibliography. - Adrian Vickers, H.I.R. Hinzler, Catalogue of Balinese manuscripts in the library of the University of Leiden and other collections in the Netherlands, vol. I: Reproductions of the drawings from the Van der Tuuk collection; vol. II: Descriptions of the Balinese drawings form the Van der Tuuk collection. Leiden: E.J. Brill/Leiden University Press, 1987.

The achievement of family well - being is an aspiration of all families including families of migrant workers, to achieve the well - being of one of the ways that the families of migrant workers with the departure of the wife work as domestic servants in various countries. The purpose of this study was to analyze social capital, economic coping, sress symptom’s husband and family subjektive well - being of women migrant workers. This research use cross sectional studies. The location was chosen purposively in Tanggeung Village, Pagermaneuh Village, Margaluyu Village, Karangtengah Village, Tanggeung District and Pasirdalam Village Kadupandak District, Cianjur, West Java, Indonesia. Seventy five families were selected purposively among the families of women migrant workers. The finding indicates that social capital is in the moderate category, the coping economy is in the moderate category, the sress symptom’s husband is in the low category and the family well-being is in the low category. Finding in this study family subjective well-being is influenced by income per capita, sress symptom’s husband and economic coping. Keywords: economic coping, family subjective well-being, social capital, stress symptom Abstrak Kesejahteraan keluarga merupakan sesuatu yang ingin dicapai seluruh keluarga, termasuk keluarga Tenaga Kerja Wanita (TKW), untuk mencapai kesejahteraan tersebut salah satu cara yang dilakukan oleh keluarga TKW adalah mengirim istri sebagai pembantu rumah tangga di berbagai negara. Tujuan dari penelitian ini adalah untuk menganalisis modal sosial, coping ekonomi, gejala stres suami, dan kesejahteraan subjektif keluarga TKW. Penelitian ini menggunakan cross sectional studies. Lokasi dipilih dengan metode purposive di Provinsi Jawa Barat, Kabupaten Cianjur, Kecamatan Tanggeung, Desa Pagermaneuh, Desa Marguluyu, Desa Karangtengah, Desa Tanggeung, Kecamatan Kadupandak, Desa Pasirdalam. Jumlah sampel sebanyak 75 keluarga TKW dengan metode purposive sampling. Penelitian ini menemukan modal sosial berada pada kategori sedang, coping ekonomi berada pada kategori sedang, gelaja stres suami berada pada kategori rendah, dan kesejahteraan subjektif berada pada kategori rendah. Penelitian ini juga menemukan kesejahteraan keluarga berpengaruh terhadap pendapatan perkapita, gelaja stres suami, dan coping ekonomi. Kata kunci : coping ekonomi, gejala stres, kesejahteraan subjektif, modal sosial. References [BPS] Badan Pusat Statistik. 2016. Data provinsi termiskin 2016. Berita Resmi Statistik [internet]. 4 Januari 2016. [diunduh 2016 September 7]; Tersedia pada: http://www.bps.go.id. [BPS] Badan Pusat Statistik Jawa Barat. 2016. 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The position of women academics in Australia is similar to that in other countries, where women are still under-represented in senior academic leadership positions. Why does progress seem to be so slow? This article hopes to contribute critically to the challenge entailed by Belinda Probert’s (2005) work, ‘“I just couldn’t fit in’: Gender and unequal outcomes in academic careers”. It considers her conclusions in the light of the 1992-2005 data from one of Australia’s newer universities, Victoria University in Melbourne. The paper also introduces a flow (or transition) model for analysing staffing changes in organisations that provides insights not usually presented in the literature on gender inequity in academic employment. The paper proposes a holistic explanation for persistent gender inequity, combining structural barriers in appointments with the unequal responsibilities women have for care.

The aim of this research was to ascertain General Practitioners’ (GPs) perceptions and experiences of prostate cancer (PCa) diagnosis, treatment, and care in metropolitan Melbourne and in a regional area of Victoria, Australia, associated with poorer PCa outcomes. Semi-structured qualitative interviews were conducted with GPs (N= 10) practising in the selected region and in metropolitan Melbourne, Australia. GPs thought that most men wanted PSA testing and were willing to undergo rectal examination. Some GPs were troubled by inconsistent screening guidelines from different professional bodies. They identified a need for resources to support them in educating patients about PCa. GPs thought it might be more difficult for young female GPs to care for patients in relation to PCa screening; differences were evident between younger female GPs and older male GPs in the approach they adopted in interviews. Regional GPs often referred patients to services in larger centres because no local specialists were available. GPs also found it hard to explain differences in PCa outcomes in regional and metropolitan areas. Potential age and gender differences in GPs in relation to prostate care warrant further examination. Although GPs were able to offer only limited insights into the poorer outcomes in regional areas, they identified ways in which they could be assisted to provide best-practice care. Multidisciplinary care, resources for patients, and consistent guidelines for the detection and treatment of PCa should contribute to better care in all areas.

“Calista” is a bilingual, bicultural Greek-Australian musician in Melbourne, Victoria who explores and enacts her bicultural identity by musicking (making music). This single case study explores the formation and development of hybridized identity which is a complex lifelong process that may generate tensions for an individual that changes across the lifespan. There are strengths and challenges for those traversing different cultures. This study focuses on a bicultural identity formed by personal, musical and cultural contexts. Calista enacts her bimusicality in different musical genres and in different modes of musical engagement. Data were collected by semi-structured interview and by reference to published materials. Data were analysed using Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis. The findings are reported under three themes that reflect different stages in Calista’s life: Becoming a Greek-Australian musician; Mature musicking; and Teaching and community work.

Imagining Sydney’s Sexual Geography through the Gay/Lesbian Media As a cultural geographer I am interested in how the identities of places are imagined in popular culture. Places do not exist a priori, but are constructed through social and cultural processes (Anderson and Gale). This does not simply refer to how built environments are materialized through planning and building, but rather elicits the way places are represented through maps, film, literature, art, and, of crucial importance in contemporary society, a range of media sources, including newspapers, websites and television (Cosgrove and Daniels; Duncan and Ley; May). These representations are what give different localities their identities, and consequently places cannot be experienced and interpreted apart from their circulated images (Shurmer-Smith; da Costa). In this brief paper I explore how Sydney’s King Street precinct is imagined as a gay/lesbian place in the gay/lesbian media – an approach which follows the examples of Forest and Miller, who respectively examine how West Hollywood, Los Angeles, and Davie Street, Vancouver, are defined and constructed in the gay/lesbian media as ‘gay places’. At the same time, I also seek to I extend this approach by exploring how different ostensibly gay/lesbian places are infused with different gay/lesbian identities by the gay/lesbian media. Sydney makes an interesting case study here. The city possesses two notable gay/lesbian precincts: the iconic Oxford Street precinct, located in the ‘inner east’, comprising Darlinghurst, Paddington and Surry Hills; and the King Street precinct, located in the ‘inner west’, encompassing Newtown, Erskineville and Enmore. While there is some research on Oxford Street as gay/lesbian space (Wotherspoon; Faro and Wotherspoon; Murphy and Watson), academic literature is silent on the particular position of King Street in Sydney’s gay/lesbian geography. McInnes, Hodge, and Costello and Hodge, for instance, bypass King Street, and instead examine the binary between ‘inner Sydney’ and the ‘western suburbs’ generated by the gay/lesbian media. While this work is important in demonstrating how Sydney’s gay/lesbian media imagines the city’s sexual geography – a ‘queer’ inner-city and ‘straight’ suburbia – these authors omit any consideration of differences within the inner-city, and instead focus on the similarities between the various gay/lesbian spaces of inner Sydney. For example, McInnes simply states: Sydney’s two gay spaces are considered to be the area[s] centred on Oxford Street Darlinghurst … and … King Street Newtown. These two places are gay spaces largely because of the presence of gay business … and because a large number of gay men and lesbians live in these two areas. (167) However, it is also possible to examine the differences between how these two discrete spaces are imagined in the gay/lesbian media. This is one of my aims in this paper. Through examining media representations of King Street specifically, rather than the inner-city generally, I seek to advance present understandings of Sydney’s gay/lesbian geography. Interpreting Media Images of King Street The commentaries analysed are taken from several gay/lesbian media sources widely circulated in Sydney – Sydney Star Observer (SSO), SX, Gay Australia Guide (GAG) and lesbian.com.au. They have been drawn from between 2003 and 2005. 2003 was selected as a suitable start date because of the closure of several gay/lesbian venues on and around Oxford Street during that year, prompting the publication of a number of articles in SSO (12 Dec. 2002, 20 Mar. 2003, 6 Nov. 2003) and SX (16 Oct. 2003, 15 July 2004) raising fears over the ‘de-gaying’ of Oxford Street. These reports signify heightened concern for the integrity of Sydney’s gay/lesbian geography by the gay/lesbian media and a concomitant anxiety over the place-identities of gay/lesbian precincts. These commentaries were then subject to various textual analyses (Hannam; Shurmer-Smith). Manifest and latent content analyses were used to extract key themes about the media constructions of King Street’s gay/lesbian place-identity. Here, I looked for the descriptors applied to King Street to elicit particular representations. Diverse words, like ‘alternative’ and ‘centre’, recurred over and over again. Since there seemed to be multiple – and somewhat competing – images of King Street in these media commentaries, I then turned to discourse analysis to try to understand how such divergent representations might arise, and what they signify about King Street’s gay/lesbian place-identity and the precinct’s place in the gay/lesbian media’s imaginative sexual geography of Sydney (Waitt; Miller). Here I paid close attention to the interpretive context of commentaries concerned with King Street, and the places (and identities) with which King Street was juxtaposed. This closer discursive analysis suggested that where King Street is considered in the gay/lesbian media, it is often juxtaposed with Oxford Street. In other words, the gay/lesbian media seems to have constructed a binary relationship between Oxford and King Streets, so that King Street is typically identified, defined and imagined in relation to Oxford Street. However, the contours of this binary relationship are unstable and shifting, differing across the commentaries. Sometimes Oxford Street is seen as the ‘hub’ of Sydney’s gay/lesbian geography, the symbolic ‘heart’ of the gay/lesbian spatial imaginary, while King Street is perceived as its ‘alternative’. But at other times, Oxford Street is described as ‘old’, and King Street is presented as its ‘successor’, the ‘new centre’ of gay/lesbian Sydney. Either way, what is significant is the way King Street is often made to rely on the image of Oxford Street for its own definition and identity. In the following discussion, I examine each of these imagined place-identities in turn, citing selected examples from the gay/lesbian media. Only the most explicit examples are presented and discussed, but the gay/lesbian media includes various other references juxtaposing and comparing the two street-precincts. King Street as the ‘Alternative’ A number of commentaries represent Oxford Street as the ‘centre’ or ‘heart’ of gay/lesbian Sydney, while King Street is presented as its ‘alternative’ (eg. SX 29 Jan. 2004). Take, for instance, the way they are juxtaposed in the following: Darlinghurst. Welcome to the hub of Sydney’s gay and lesbian community. Darlinghurst is home for some of Sydney’s hottest gay and lesbian clubs, cafes, and bars, and it’s where many community groups are based. The main strip, Oxford Street, is queer central. … Newtown. The edgier alternative to Darlinghurst. … The buzz here is on King Street, home to Sydney’s alternative and grunge crowd. (GAG’s Sydney Gay and Lesbian Visitors’ Guide, 2005, 6, 15) The heart of gay Sydney is Oxford Street. … It’s loud, proud and colourful. … Want something a little more edgier and cosmopolitan? Rock into Newtown. Sydney’s most colourful characters gather around King Street and Enmore Road. (http://www.lesbian.com.au/lesbiansydney.htm) In both commentaries, King Street is imagined in relation to Oxford Street. Oxford Street is presented first: the precinct can stand alone as ‘queer central’, ‘the heart of gay Sydney’, drawing on no other places for its definition as the centre of gay/lesbian Sydney. Oxford Street simply is gay/lesbian Sydney. Meanwhile, King Street is ‘second choice’ it seems. In both reports, descriptions of King Street appear immediately after Oxford Street, and are drawn in comparison, with King Street identified as Oxford Street’s ‘edger alternative’. Since it is depicted as the ‘hub’ of gay/lesbian Sydney, Oxford Street is also imagined as Sydney’s ‘gay ghetto’, a uniformly gay/lesbian residential-and-commercial space. This is another representation against which King Street is defined in the gay/lesbian media: Since moving from Taylor Square [Oxford Street] to the Newtown/St.Peters border [King Street] … I’ve celebrated being part of a mixed community. … Don’t get me wrong. I love living gay. … But a couple of years spent drowning in the ghetto has made me appreciate the simple things about not being a part of it. (SSO 20 Jan. 2005) Newtown is a culturally diverse suburb and fortunately it is gay-friendly, not a gay ghetto. People can be themselves in Newtown without fear of persecution. (SSO 27 Jan. 2005) I do not believe that Newtown [King Street] is a ‘gay ghetto’ … Granted, it is one of the few places where I can walk hand in and with my (male) partner and feel relatively safe. However, there is a wide diversity of people here, and the LGBT community is only a part of it. (SSO 21 Jan. 2005) Although these commentators are clearly happy to represent King Street as a ‘gay-friendly’ locality rather than a ‘gay ghetto’, this identity is only attained in contrast with Oxford Street, the gay ghetto. Again King Street is depicted as Oxford Street’s alternative, its particular ‘gay-friendly’ place-identity bound to a comparative relationship with Oxford Street. King Street as the ‘New Centre’ But this centre/alternative binary is unstable. In other commentaries, King Street is not presented as the ‘alternative’, but as the ‘successor’ to Oxford Street, the ‘new centre’ of gay/lesbian Sydney. Take the following commentary from GAG (Summer 2003), which now promotes King Street the ‘best gay street in Australia’: King Street, Newtown, is now the best GLBTI street in Sydney and, inevitably, in Oz – no argument. It’s book-ended by Victoria Park at its city end – site of the annual Mardi Gras fair day and poolside pashing all year round – and Sydney Park at its southern end – queer dog off-leash heaven. Without any of Oxford Street’s tackiness, here you’ll find the kissingest, handholdingest fags and dykes, along with hets who aren’t out to hoon or hurt. … Why? Because 24/7 it’s a lived-in street, not an after-hours entertainment strip for the desperate and dateless. King Street’s claim to be the ‘best gay street in Australia’, however, is tellingly made in direct comparison with Oxford Street (and interestingly, not with ‘gay streets’ in other Australian cities): while Oxford Street is a ‘tacky entertainment strip’, King Street is ‘lived-in’. Oxford Street continues to haunt the place-identity of King Street: even in being imagined as the ‘top’ gay precinct, King Street is defined against and through Oxford Street. In a similar vein, another article from SSO (21 Oct. 2004) asserts that ‘Newtown’s King Street is set to overtake Darlinghurst’s Oxford Street as the epicentre of gay Sydney’. The report outlines evidence for the elevation of King Street to the centre of gay/lesbian Sydney, in terms of residential visibility and the number of gay/lesbian organisations moving to the area, which include the New Mardi Gras, Twenty10 (a gay/lesbian youth service), the Gay and Lesbian Counselling Service, the Gender Centre and the Metropolitan Community Church. Yet even as King Street succeeds Oxford Street as the ‘epicentre of gay Sydney’, the precinct is imagined through Oxford Street: the article is entitled ‘King Street the new Darlo’. Here, King Street is not acknowledged as the centre of gay/lesbian Sydney in its own terms, by virtue of its own identity as a gay/lesbian place, but through replacing Oxford Street. Literally re-placing: King Street is not the ‘new centre’: it is the ‘new Darlo’. It is as if Oxford Street is inherently and synonymously ‘central’, and King Street can only be seen as central through being imagined as Oxford Street. In doing this, rather than asserting King Street’s gay/lesbian place-identity, Oxford Street’s identity as the symbolic ‘heart’ of Sydney’s gay/lesbian spatial imaginary is confirmed. It is not Oxford Street that has been dis-placed by King Street’s growing gay/lesbian community and identity. Rather, King Street’s identity has been dis-placed by the continued representation of Oxford Street as ‘queer central’. Conclusion The identities of different places are not ‘natural’, but constructed through social and cultural representations. In contemporary western society, the media – print, television, web-based – is a key producer and disseminator of place images and identities. This paper has sought to add to our understanding of this phenomenon. Specifically, I have sought to explore how the gay/lesbian media can influence the gay/lesbian identities of certain places. Moreover, by exploring how King Street has been represented in and through the gay/lesbian media vis-à-vis Oxford Street, I have attempted to understand how different gay/lesbian places are imbued with different and multiple gay/lesbian identities in the gay/lesbian media. Consequently, this discussion also augments our understanding of Sydney’s particular gay/lesbian geography, providing a more nuanced understanding of the imaginative sexual identities of different places collectively imagined as gay/lesbian. Several specific conclusions can be drawn here. First, King and Oxford Streets are imagined differently by the gay/lesbian media. Second, King Street is imagined in relation to Oxford Street. Third, these relational depictions shift between alternative to, and a successor of, Oxford Street. Finally, either way, King Street is often made to rely upon Oxford Street for its place-identity, infrequently imagined apart from Oxford Street. Yet, since place-identities are fluid and unstable, this may change in the future, especially as King Street continues to develop as a locality of gay/lesbian community and identity. And in looking to the future, I hope the claims made here stimulate further enquiry into the nuanced relationship between Sydney’s gay/lesbian precincts. More work remains to be done – not just of media representations – but in-depth interviews and participant observations to understand the experiences of King Street’s residents, and what this particular place means to them and their identities. References Anderson, Kay, and Fay Gale, eds. Inventing Places: Studies in Cultural Geography. Melbourne: Longman Chesire, 1992. Anon. “Oxford Hotel in Receivership.” Sydney Star Observer 6 Nov. 2003. Benzie, Tim. “Bye Bye Beresford.” Sydney Star Observer 12 Dec. 2002. ———. “Barracks Down.” Sydney Star Observer 20 Mar. 2003. Cosgrove, Daniel and Stephen Daniels. Eds. The Iconography of Landscape. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988. Costello, Lauren, and Stephen Hodge. “Queer/Clear/Here: Destabilising Sexualities and Space.” Australian Cultural Geographies. Ed. Elaine Stratford. South Melbourne: Oxford, 1999. 131-152. Da Costa, Maria Helena. “Cinematic Cities: Researching Films as Geographical Texts.” Cultural Geography in Practice. Eds. Alison Blunt, Pyrs Gruffudd, Jon May, Miles Ogborn, and David Pinder. London: Arnold, 2003. 191-201. Duncan, James, and David Ley, eds. Place/Culture/Representation. London: Routledge, 1993. Farrar, Stacy. “I See Gay People.” Sydney Star Observer 21 Jan. 2005. Faro, Clive, with Garry Wotherspoon. Street Seen: A History of Oxford Street. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2000. Fishlock, Gary. “And Then There Were Nine.” SX 16 Oct. 2003. ———. “Oxford Street, Darlinghurst.” SX 29 Jan. 2004. ———. “A Call to Arms.” SX 15 July 2004. Forest, Benjamin. “West Hollywood as Symbol: The Significance of Place in the Construction of a Gay Identity.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 13.2 (1995): 133-157. Hannam, Kevin. “Coping with Archival and Textual Data.” Doing Cultural Geography. Ed. Pamela Shurmer-Smith. London: Sage, 2002. 189-197. Hodge, Stephen. “No Fags Out There: Gay Men, Identity and Suburbia.” Journal of Interdisciplinary Gender Studies 1.1 (1995): 41-48. Lesbian Sydney. 28 Nov. 2005 http://www.lesbian.com.au/lesbiansydney.htm>. May, Jon. “The View from the Streets: Geographies of Homelessness in the British Newspaper Press.” Cultural Geography in Practice. Eds. Alison Blunt, Pyrs Gruffudd, Jon May, Miles Ogborn, and David Pinder. London: Arnold, 2003. 23-36. McInnes, David. “Inside the Outside: Politics and Gay and Lesbian Spaces in Sydney.” Queer City: Gay and Lesbian Politics in Sydney. Eds. Craig Johnston and Paul van Reyk. Pluto Press: Annandale, 2001. 164-178. Miller, Vincent. “Intertextuality, the Referential Illusion and the Production of a Gay Ghetto.” Social and Cultural Geography 6.1 (2005): 61-80. Murphy, Peter and Sophie Watson. “Gay Sites and the Pink Dollar.” Written with Iain Bruce. Chapter 4 of Surface City: Sydney at the Millenium. Pluto: Annandale, 1997. O’Grady, Dominic, ed. Gay Australia Guide’s Sydney Gay and Lesbian Visitors’ Guide. Blackheath: Gay Travel Guides, 2005. Reader views. Sydney Star Observer 27 Jan. 2005. Shurmer-Smith, Pamela. “Reading Texts.” Doing Cultural Geography. Ed. Pamela Shurmer-Smith. London: Sage, 2002. 123-136. Van Reyk, Paul. “Best Gay Street – King Street Newtown, Sydney.” Gay Australia Guide 9 (Summer 2003): 11. Waitt, Gordon. “Doing Discourse Analysis.” Qualitative Research Methods in Human Geography. Ed. Iain Hay. South Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 2005. 163-191. Wearring, Myles. “King Street the New Darlo.” Sydney Star Observer 21 Oct. 2004. Wotherspoon, Garry. City of the Plain: History of a Gay Sub-Culture. Sydney: Hale and Iremonger, 1991. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Gorman-Murray, Andrew. "Imagining King Street in the Gay/Lesbian Media." M/C Journal 9.3 (2006). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0607/04-gorman-murray.php>. APA Style Gorman-Murray, A. (Jul. 2006) "Imagining King Street in the Gay/Lesbian Media," M/C Journal, 9(3). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0607/04-gorman-murray.php>.

Summary Social networking sites are the primary means by which trans and gender diverse people meet, enabling both community contact and information exchange. This study considers the meaning of participation in a secret Facebook group for trans and gender diverse adults in Melbourne (Australia). A peer ethnographic methodology was used to study the Melbourne-based group listed under the pseudonym ‘Virtually Trans’. Qualitative semi-structured interviews were conducted with 12 Virtually Trans group members. Interviews were transcribed and thematically analysed. Interview data were supplemented with field notes written throughout online participation over an 8-month period to add richness and provide context to the data. Three major themes were developed from this analysis. First, experiences outside of Virtually Trans, most notably within health care settings, were perceived to be unsafe. Second, practices of care in Virtually Trans conferred a sense of kinship and identity affirmation. Finally, Virtually Trans enabled localized information exchange between peers. Virtually Trans is not a neutral platform of self-performance but a safe(r) environment for expanding the gendered possibilities of who and how people may become. This study highlights the importance of a secret Facebook group in filling care, information and resource gaps experienced by trans and gender diverse people within a major metropolitan setting. The findings have implications for practitioners working with trans and gender diverse adults and peer health navigation.

“There is nothing more public than privacy.” (Berlant and Warner, Sex) How did it come to this? How did it happen that a one-off, two-hour event at a public swimming pool in a suburb of outer Melbourne ignited international hate mail and generated media-fanned political anguish and debate about the proper use of public spaces? In 2010, women who attend a women’s only swim session on Sunday evenings at the Dandenong Oasis public swimming pool asked the pool management and the local council for permission to celebrate the end of Ramadan at the pool during the time of their regular swim session. The request was supported by the pool managers and the council and promoted by both as an opportunity for family and friends to get together in a spirit of multicultural learning and understanding. Responding to criticisms of the event as an unreasonable claim on public facilities by one group, the Mayor of the City of Greater Dandenong, Jim Memeti, rejected claims that this event discriminates against non-Muslim residents of the suburb. But here’s the rub. The event, to be held after hours at the pool, requires all participants older than ten years of age to follow a dress code of knee-length shorts and T-shirts. This is a suburban moment that is borne of but exceeds the local. It reflects and responds to a contemporary global conundrum of great political and theoretical significance—how to negotiate and govern the relations between multiculturalism, religion, gender, sexual freedom, and democracy. Specifically this event speaks to how multicultural democracy in the public sphere negotiates the public presence and expression of different cultural and religious frameworks related to gender and sexuality. This is demanding political stuff. Situated in the messy political and theoretical terrains of the relation between public space and the public sphere, this local moment called for political judgement about how cultural differences should be allowed to manifest in and through public space, giving consideration to the potential effects of these decisions on an inclusive multicultural democracy. The local authorities in Dandenong engaged in an admirable process of democratic labour as they puzzled over how to make decisions that were responsible and equitable, in the absence of a rulebook or precedents for success. Ultimately however this mode of experimental decision-making, which will become increasingly necessary to manage such predicaments in the future, was foreclosed by unwarranted and unhelpful media outrage. "Foreclosed" here stresses the preemptive nature of the loss; a lost opportunity for trialing approaches to governing cultural diversity that may fail, but might then be modified. It was condemned in advance of either success or failure. The role of the media rather than the discomfort of the local publics has been decisive in this event.This Multicultural SuburbDandenong is approximately 30 kilometres southeast of central Melbourne. Originally home to the Bunorong People of the Kulin nation, it was settled by pastoralists by the 1800s, heavily industrialised during the twentieth century, and now combines cultural diversity with significant social disadvantage. The City of Greater Dandenong is proud of its reputation as the most culturally and linguistically diverse municipality in Australia. Its population of approximately 138,000 comprises residents from 156 different language groups. More than half (56%) of its population was born overseas, with 51% from nations where English is not the main spoken language. These include Vietnam, Cambodia, Sri Lanka, India, China, Italy, Greece, Bosnia and Afghanistan. It is also a place of significant religious diversity with residents identifying as Buddhist (15 per cent) Muslim (8 per cent), Hindu (2 per cent) and Christian (52 per cent) [CGD]. Its city logo, “Great Place, Great People” evokes its twin pride in the placemaking power of its diverse population. It is also a brazen act of civic branding to counter its reputation as a derelict and dangerous suburb. In his recent book The Bogan Delusion, David Nichols cites a "bogan" website that names Dandenong as one of Victoria’s two most bogan areas. The other was Moe. (p72). The Sunday Age newspaper had already depicted Dandenong as one of two excessively dangerous suburbs “where locals fear to tread” (Elder and Pierik). The other suburb of peril was identified as Footscray.Central Dandenong is currently the site of Australia’s largest ever state sponsored Urban Revitalisation program with a budget of more than $290 million to upgrade infrastructure, that aims to attract $1billion in private investment to provide housing and future employment.The Cover UpIn September 2010, the Victorian and Civil and Administrative Appeals Tribunal (VCAT) granted the YMCA an exemption from the Equal Opportunity Act to allow a dress code for the Ramadan event at the Oasis swimming pool that it manages. The "Y" sees the event as “an opportunity for the broader community to learn more about Ramadan and the Muslim faith, and encourages all members of Dandenong’s diverse community to participate” (YMCA Ramadan). While pool management and the municipal council refer to the event as an "opening up" of the closed swimming session, the media offer a different reading of the VCAT decision. The trope of the "the cover up" has framed most reports and commentaries (Murphy; Szego). The major focus of the commentaries has not been the event per se, but the call to dress "appropriately." Dress codes however are a cultural familiar. They exist for workplaces, schools, nightclubs, weddings, racing and sporting clubs and restaurants, to name but a few. While some of these codes or restrictions are normatively imposed rather than legally required, they are not alien to cultural life in Australia. Moreover, there are laws that prohibit people from being meagerly dressed or naked in public, including at beaches, swimming pools and so on. The dress code for this particular swimming pool event was, however, perceived to be unusual and, in a short space of time, "unusual" converted to "social threat."Responses to media polls about the dress code reveal concerns related to the symbolic dimensions of the code. The vast majority of those who opposed the Equal Opportunity exemption saw it as the thin edge of the multicultural wedge, a privatisation of public facilities, or a denial of the public’s right to choose how to dress. Tabloid newspapers reported on growing fears of Islamisation, while the more temperate opposition situated the decision as a crisis of human rights associated with tolerating illiberal cultural practices. Julie Szego reflects this view in an opinion piece in The Age newspaper:the Dandenong pool episode is neither trivial nor insignificant. It is but one example of human rights laws producing outcomes that restrict rights. It raises tough questions about how far public authorities ought to go in accommodating cultural practices that sit uneasily with mainstream Western values. (Szego)Without enquiring into the women’s request and in the absence of the women’s views about what meaning the event held for them, most media commentators and their electronically wired audiences treated the announcement as yet another alarming piece of evidence of multicultural failure and the potential Islamisation of Australia. The event raised specific concerns about the double intrusion of cultural difference and religion. While the Murdoch tabloid Herald Sun focused on the event as “a plan to force families to cover up to avoid offending Muslims at a public event” (Murphy) the liberal Age newspaper took a more circumspect approach, reporting on its small vox pop at the Dandenong pool. Some people here referred to the need to respect religions and seemed unfazed by the exemption and the event. Those who disagreed thought it was important not to enforce these (dress) practices on other people (Carey).It is, I believe, significant that several employees of the local council informed me that most of the opposition has come from the media, people outside of Dandenong and international groups who oppose the incursion of Islam into non-Islamic settings. Opposition to the event did not appear to derive from local concern or opposition.The overwhelming majority of Herald Sun comments expressed emphatic opposition to the dress code, citing it variously as unAustralian, segregationist, arrogant, intolerant and sexist. The Herald Sun polled readers (in a self-selecting and of course highly unrepresentative on-line poll) asking them to vote on whether or not they agreed with the VCAT exemption. While 5.52 per cent (512 voters) agreed with the ruling, 94.48 per cent (8,760) recorded disagreement. In addition, the local council has, for the first time in memory, received a stream of hate-mail from international anti-Islam groups. Muslim women’s groups, feminists, the Equal Opportunity Commissioner and academics have also weighed in. According to local reports, Professor of Islamic Studies at the University of Melbourne, Shahram Akbarzadeh, considered the exemption was “nonsense” and would “backfire and the people who will pay for it will be the Muslim community themselves” (Haberfield). He repudiated it as an example of inclusion and tolerance, labeling it “an effort of imposing a value system (sic)” (Haberfield). He went so far as to suggest that, “If Tony Abbott wanted to participate in his swimwear he wouldn’t be allowed in. That’s wrong.” Tasneem Chopra, chairwoman of the Islamic Women’s Welfare Council and Sherene Hassan from the Islamic Council of Victoria, both expressed sensitivity to the group’s attempt to establish an inclusive event but would have preferred the dress code to be a matter of choice rather coercion (Haberfield, "Mayor Defends Dandenong Pool Cover Up Order"). Helen Szoke, the Commissioner of the Victorian Equal Opportunity and Human Rights Commission, defended the pool’s exemption from the Law that she oversees. “Matters such as this are not easy to resolve and require a balance to be achieved between competing rights and obligations. Dress codes are not uncommon: e.g., singlets, jeans, thongs etc in pubs/hotels” (in Murphy). The civil liberties organisation, Liberty Victoria, supported the ban because the event was to be held after hours (Murphy). With astonishing speed this single event not only transformed the suburban swimming pool to a theatre of extra-local disputes about who and what is entitled to make claims on public space and publically funded facilities, but also fed into charged debates about the future of multiculturalism and the vulnerability of the nation to the corrosive effects of cultural and religious difference. In this sense suburbs like Dandenong are presented as sites that not only generate fear about physical safety but whose suburban sensitivities to its culturally diverse population represent a threat to the safety of the nation. Thus the event both reflects and produces an antipathy to cultural difference and to the place where difference resides. This aversion is triggered by and mediated in this case through the figure, rather than the (corpo)reality, of the Muslim woman. In this imagining, the figure of the Muslim woman is assigned the curious symbolic role of "cultural creep." The debates around the pool event is not about the wellbeing or interests of the Muslim women themselves, nor are broader debates about the perceived, culturally-derived restrictions imposed on Muslim women living in Australia or other western countries. The figure of the Muslim woman is, I would argue, simply the ground on which the debates are held. The first debate relates to social and public space, access to which is considered fundamental to freedom and participatory democracy, and in current times is addressed in terms of promoting inclusion, preventing exclusion and finding opportunities for cross cultural encounters. The second relates not to public space per se, but to the public sphere or the “sphere of private people coming together as a public” for political deliberation (Habermas 21). The literature and discussions dealing with these two terrains have remained relatively disconnected (Low and Smith) with public space referring largely to activities and opportunities in the socio-cultural domain and the public sphere addressing issues of politics, rights and democracy. This moment in Dandenong offers some modest leeway for situating "the suburb" as an ideal site for coalescing these disparate discussions. In this regard I consider Iveson’s provocative and productive question about whether some forms of exclusions from suburban public space may actually deepen the democratic ideals of the public sphere. Exclusions may in such cases be “consistent with visions of a democratically inclusive city” (216). He makes his case in relation to a dispute about the exclusion of men exclusion from a women’s only swimming pool in the Sydney suburb of Coogee. The Dandenong case is similarly exclusive with an added sense of exclusion generated by an "inclusion with restrictions."Diversity, Difference, Public Space and the Public SphereAs a prelude to this discussion of exclusion as democracy, I return to the question that opened this article: how did it come to this? How is it that Australia has moved from its renowned celebration and pride in its multiculturalism so much in evidence at the suburban level through what Ghassan Hage calls an “unproblematic” multiculturalism (233) and what others have termed “everyday multiculturalism” (Wise and Velayutham). Local cosmopolitanisms are often evinced through the daily rituals of people enjoying the ethnic cuisines of their co-residents’ pasts, and via moments of intercultural encounter. People uneventfully rub up against and greet each other or engage in everyday acts of kindness that typify life in multicultural suburbs, generating "reservoirs of hope" for democratic and cosmopolitan cities (Thrift 147). In today’s suburbs, however, the “Imperilled Muslim women” who need protection from “dangerous Muslim men” (Razack 129) have a higher discursive profile than ethnic cuisine as the exemplar of multiculturalism. Have we moved from pleasure to hostility or was the suburban pleasure in racial difference always about a kind of “eating the other” (bell hooks 378). That is to ask whether our capacity to experience diversity positively has been based on consumption, consuming the other for our own enrichment, whereas living with difference entails a commitment not to consumption but to democracy. This democratic multicultural commitment is a form of labour rather than pleasure, and its outcome is not enrichment but transformation (although this labour can be pleasurable and transformation might be enriching). Dandenong’s prized cultural precincts, "Little India" and the "Afghan bazaar" are showcases of food, artefacts and the diversity of the suburb. They are centres of pleasurable and exotic consumption. The pool session, however, requires one to confront difference. In simple terms we can think about ethnic food, festivals and handicrafts as cultural diversity, and the Muslim woman as cultural difference.This distinction between diversity and difference is useful for thinking through the relation between multiculturalism in public space and multicultural democracy of the public sphere. According to the anthropologist Thomas Hylland Eriksen, while a neoliberal sensibility supports cultural diversity in the public space, cultural difference is seen as a major cause of social problems associated with immigrants, and has a diminishing effect on the public sphere (14). According to Eriksen, diversity is understood as aesthetic, or politically and morally neutral expressions of culture that are enriching (Hage 118) or digestible. Difference, however, refers to morally objectionable cultural practices. In short, diversity is enriching. Difference is corrosive. Eriksen argues that differences that emerge from distinct cultural ideas and practices are deemed to create conflicts with majority cultures, weaken social solidarity and lead to unacceptable violations of human rights in minority groups. The suburban swimming pool exists here at the boundary of diversity and difference, where the "presence" of diverse bodies may enrich, but their different practices deplete and damage existing culture. The imperilled Muslim woman of the suburbs carries a heavy symbolic load. She stands for major global contests at the border of difference and diversity in three significant domains, multiculturalism, religion and feminism. These three areas are positioned simultaneously in public space and of the public sphere and she embodies a specific version of each in this suburban setting. First, there a global retreat from multiculturalism evidenced in contemporary narratives that describe multiculturalism (both as official policy and unofficial sensibility) as failed and increasingly ineffective at accommodating or otherwise dealing with religious, cultural and ethnic differences (Cantle; Goodhart; Joppke; Poynting and Mason). In the UK, Europe, the US and Australia, popular media sources and political discourses speak of "parallel lives,"immigrant enclaves, ghettoes, a lack of integration, the clash of values, and illiberal cultural practices. The covered body of the Muslim woman, and more particularly the Muslim veil, are now read as visual signs of this clash of values and of the refusal to integrate. Second, religion has re-emerged in the public domain, with religious groups and individuals making particular claims on public space both on the basis of their religious identity and in accord with secular society’s respect for religious freedom. This is most evident in controversies in France, Belgium and Netherlands associated with banning niqab in public and other religious symbols in schools, and in Australia in court. In this sense the covered Muslim woman raises concerns and indignation about the rightful place of religion in the public sphere and in social space. Third, feminism is increasingly invoked as the ground from which claims about the imperilled Muslim woman are made, particularly those about protecting women from their dangerous men. The infiltration of the Muslim presence into public space is seen as a threat to the hard won gains of women’s freedom enjoyed by the majority population. This newfound feminism of the public sphere, posited by those who might otherwise disavow feminism, requires some serious consideration. This public discourse rarely addresses the discrimination, violation and lack of freedom experienced systematically on an everyday basis by women of majority cultural backgrounds in western societies (such as Australia). However, the sexism of racially and religiously different men is readily identified and decried. This represents a significant shift to a dubious feminist register of the public sphere such that: “[w]omen of foreign origin, ...more specifically Muslim women…have replaced the traditional housewife as the symbol of female subservience” (Tissot 41–42).The three issues—multiculturalism, religion and feminism—are, in the Dandenong pool context, contests about human rights, democracy and the proper use of public space. Szego’s opinion piece sees the Dandenong pool "cover up" as an example of the conundrum of how human rights for some may curtail the human rights of others and lead us into a problematic entanglement of universal "rights," with claims of difference. In her view the combination of human rights and multiculturalism in the case of the Dandenong Pool accommodates illiberal practices that put the rights of "the general public" at risk, or as she puts it, on a “slippery slope” that results in a “watering down of our human rights.” Ideas that entail women making a claim for private time in public space are ultimately not good for "us."Such ideas run counter to the West's more than 500-year struggle for individual freedom—including both freedom of religion and freedom from religion—and for gender equality. Our public authorities ought to be pushing back hardest when these values are under threat. Yet this is precisely where they've been buckling under pressure (Szego)But a different reading of the relation between public and private space, human rights, democracy and gender freedom is readily identifiable in the Dandenong event—if one looks for it. Living with difference, I have already suggested, is a problem of democracy and the public sphere and does not so easily correspond to consuming diversity, as it demands engagement with cultural difference. In what remains, I explore how multicultural democracy in the public sphere and women’s rights in public and private realms relate, firstly, to the burgeoning promise of democracy and civility that might emerge in public space through encounter and exchange. I also point out how this moment in Dandenong might be read as a singular contribution to dealing with this global problematic of living with difference; of democracy in the public sphere. Public urban space has become a focus for speculation among geographers and sociologists in particular, about the prospects for an enhanced civic appreciation of living with difference through encountering strangers. Random and repetitious encounters with people from all cultures typify contemporary urban life. It remains an open question however as to whether these encounters open up or close down possibilities for conviviality and understanding, and whether they undo or harden peoples’ fears and prejudices. There is, however, at least in some academic and urban planning circles, some hope that the "throwntogetherness" (Massey) and the "doing" of togetherness (Laurier and Philo) found in the multicultural city may generate some lessons and opportunities for developing a civic culture and political commitment to living with difference. Alongside the optimism of those who celebrate the city, the suburb, and public spaces as forging new ways of living with difference, there are those such as Gill Valentine who wonder how this might be achieved in practice (324). Ash Amin similarly notes that city or suburban public spaces are not necessarily “the natural servants of multicultural engagement” (Ethnicity 967). Amin and Valentine point to the limited or fleeting opportunities for real engagement in these spaces. Moreover Valentine‘s research in the UK revealed that the spatial proximity found in multicultural spaces did not so much give rise to greater mutual respect and engagement, but to a frustrated “white self-segregation in the suburbs.” She suggests therefore that civility and polite exchange should not be mistaken for respect (324). Amin contends that it is the “micro-publics” of social encounters found in workplaces, schools, gardens, sports clubs [and perhaps swimming pools] rather than the fleeting encounters of the street or park, that offer better opportunities for meaningful intercultural exchange. The Ramadan celebration at the pool, with its dress code and all, might be seen more fruitfully as a purposeful event engaging a micro-public in which people are able to “break out of fixed relations and fixed notions” and “learn to become different” (Amin, Ethnicity 970) without that generating discord and resentment.Micropublics, Subaltern Publics and a Democracy of (Temporary) ExclusionsIs this as an opportunity to bring the global and local together in an experiment of forging new democratic spaces for gender, sexuality, culture and for living with difference? More provocatively, can we see exclusion and an invitation to share in this exclusion as a precursor to and measure of, actually existing democracy? Painter and Philo have argued that democratic citizenship is questionable if “people cannot be present in public spaces (streets, squares, parks, cinemas, churches, town halls) without feeling uncomfortable, victimized and basically ‘out of place’…" (Iveson 216). Feminists have long argued that distinctions between public and private space are neither straightforward nor gender neutral. For Nancy Fraser the terms are “cultural classifications and rhetorical labels” that are powerful because they are “frequently deployed to delegitimate some interests, views and topics and to valorize others” (73). In relation to women and other subordinated minorities, the "rhetoric of privacy" has been historically used to restrict the domain of legitimate public contestation. In fact the notion of what is public and particularly notions of the "public interest" and the "public good" solidify forms of subordination. Fraser suggests the concept of "subaltern counterpublics" as an alternative to notions of "the public." These are discursive spaces where groups articulate their needs, and demands are circulated formulating their own public sphere. This challenges the very meaning and foundational premises of ‘the public’ rather than simply positing strategies of inclusion or exclusion. The twinning of Amin’s notion of "micro-publics" and Fraser’s "counterpublics" is, I suggest, a fruitful approach to interpreting the Dandenong pool issue. It invites a reading of this singular suburban moment as an experiment, a trial of sorts, in newly imaginable ways of living democratically with difference. It enables us to imagine moments when a limited democratic right to exclude might create the sorts of cultural exchanges that give rise to a more authentic and workable recognition of cultural difference. I am drawn to think that this is precisely the kind of democratic experimentation that the YMCA and Dandenong Council embarked upon when they applied for the Equal Opportunity exemption. I suggest that by trialing, rather than fixing forever a "critically exclusive" access to the suburban swimming pool for two hours per year, they were in fact working on the practical problem of how to contribute in small but meaningful ways to a more profoundly free democracy and a reworked public sphere. In relation to the similar but distinct example of the McIver pool for women and children in Coogee, New South Wales, Kurt Iveson makes the point that such spaces of exclusion or withdrawal, “do not necessarily serve simply as spaces where people ‘can be themselves’, or as sites through which reified identities are recognised—in existing conditions of inequality, they can also serve as protected spaces where people can take the risk of exploring who they might become with relative safety from attack and abuse” (226). These are necessary risks to take if we are to avoid entrenching fear of difference in a world where difference is itself deeply, and permanently, entrenched.ReferencesAmin, Ash. “Ethnicity and the Multicultural City: Living with Diversity.” Environment and Planning A 34 (2002): 959–80.———. “The Good City.” Urban Studies 43 (2006): 1009–23.Berlant, Lauren, and Michael Warner. “Sex in Public.” Critical Inquiry 24 (1998): 547–66.Cantle, Ted. Community Cohesion: A Report of the Independent Review Team. London, UK Home Office, 2001.Carey, Adam. “Backing for Pool Cover Up Directive.” The Age 17 Sep. 2010. ‹http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/backing-for-pool-coverup-directive-20100916-15enz.html›.Elder, John, and Jon Pierick. “The Mean Streets: Where the Locals Fear to Tread.” The Sunday Age 10 Jan. 2010. ‹http://www.theage.com.au/national/the-mean-streets-where-the-locals-fear-to-tread-20100109-m00l.html?skin=text-only›.Eriksen, Thomas Hyland. “Diversity versus Difference: Neoliberalism in the Minority Debate." The Making and Unmaking of Difference. Ed. Richard Rottenburg, Burkhard Schnepel, and Shingo Shimada. Bielefeld: Transaction, 2006. 13–36.Fraser, Nancy. “Rethinking the Public Sphere: A Contribution to the Critique of Actually Existing Democracy.” Social Text 25/26 (1990): 56–80.Goodhart, David. “Too Diverse.” Prospect 95 (2004): 30-37.Haberfield, Georgie, and Gilbert Gardner. “Mayor Defends Pool Cover-up Order.” Dandenong Leader 16 Sep. 2010 ‹http://dandenong-leader.whereilive.com.au/news/story/dandenong-oasis-tells-swimmers-to-cover-up/›.Habermas, Jürgen. The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society. Cambridge, MA: MIT P, 2001.Hage, Ghassan. White Nation: Fantasies of White Supremacy in a Multicultural Society. Sydney: Pluto, 1998.hooks, bell. "Eating the Other: Desire and Resistance." Media and Cultural Studies Keyworks. Eds. Meenakshi Gigi and Douglas Kellner. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2001. 366-380.Iveson, Kurt. "Justifying Exclusion: The Politics of Public Space and the Dispute over Access to McIvers Ladies' Baths, Sydney.” Gender, Place and Culture 10.3 (2003): 215–28.Joppke, Christian. “The Retreat of Multiculturalism in the Liberal State: Theory and Policy.” The British Journal of Sociology 55.2 (2004): 237–57.Laurier, Chris, and Eric Philo. “Cold Shoulders and Napkins Handed: Gestures of Responsibility.” Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 31 (2006): 193–207.Low, Setha, and Neil Smith, eds. The Politics of Public Space. London: Routledge, 2006.Massey, Doreen. For Space. London: Sage, 2005.Murphy, Padraic. "Cover Up for Pool Even at Next Year's Ramadan.” Herald Sun 23 Sep. 2010. ‹http://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/victoria/cover-up-for-pool-event-during-next-years-ramadan/story-e6frf7kx-1225924291675›.Nichols, David. The Bogan Delusion. Melbourne: Affirm Press, 2011.Poynting, Scott, and Victoria Mason. "The New Integrationism, the State and Islamophobia: Retreat from Multiculturalism in Australia." International Journal of Law, Crime and Justice 36 (2008): 230–46.Razack, Sherene H. “Imperilled Muslim Women, Dangerous Muslim Men and Civilised Europeans: Legal and Social Responses to Forced Marriages.” Feminist Legal Studies 12.2 (2004): 129–74.Szego, Julie. “Under the Cover Up." The Age 9 Oct. 2010. < http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/under-the-coverup-20101008-16c1v.html >.Thrift, Nigel. “But Malice Afterthought: Cities and the Natural History of Hatred.” Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 30 (2005): 133–50.Tissot, Sylvie. “Excluding Muslim Women: From Hijab to Niqab, from School to Public Space." Public Culture 23.1 (2011): 39–46.Valentine, Gill. “Living with Difference: Reflections on Geographies of Encounter.” Progress in Human Geography 32.3 (2008): 323–37.Wise, Amanda, and Selveraj Velayutham, eds. Everyday Multiculturalism. Houndsmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009.YMCA. “VCAT Ruling on Swim Sessions at Dandenong Oasis to Open Up to Community During Ramadan Next Year.” 16 Sep. 2010. ‹http://www.victoria.ymca.org.au/cpa/htm/htm_news_detail.asp?page_id=13&news_id=360›.

Women with disability often experience barriers to employment and career progression, most notably in hyper-masculinised industry sectors such as sport. Applying an intersectionality lens and insights from critical disability theory, this research explores the lived experiences of eight women with varying types of disability through their stories of working and volunteering in sport organizations in Victoria (Australia). Analyses of the interviews highlighted the importance that these women attached to their identity as a woman with disability and the intrapersonal and organizational factors that impacted on initial sport workplace attraction and retention. The findings discuss the relationship management strategies adopted to manage these factors in workplace interactions. The interactive effect between disability and gender contributes to building a meaningful understanding of the intersectionality for women with disability in sport organizations.

In this article I discuss a story told by the South Australian Ngarrindjeri Aboriginal elder, Aunty Hilda Wilson (nee Varcoe), about the time when, at not quite sixteen, she was sent from the Point Pearce Aboriginal Station to work in the Adelaide Hills, some 500 kilometres away, as a housekeeper for “one of Adelaide’s leading doctors”. Her secondment was part of a widespread practice in early and mid-twentieth century Australia of placing young Aboriginal women “of marriageable age” from missions and government reserves into domestic service. Consciously deploying Indigenous storytelling practices as pedagogy, Hilda Wilson recounted this episode in a number of distinct ways during the late 1990s and early 2000s. Across these iterations, each building on the other, she exhibited a personal resilience in her subjectivity, embedded in Indigenous knowledge systems of relationality, kin and work, which informed her agency and determination in a challenging situation in which she was both caring for a white socially-privileged family of five, while simultaneously grappling with the injustices of a state system of segregated indentured labour. Kirmayer and colleagues propose that “notions of resilience emerging from developmental psychology and psychiatry in recent years address the distinctive cultures, geographic and social settings, and histories of adversity of indigenous peoples”. Resilience is understood here as an ability to actively engage with traumatic change, involving the capacity to absorb stress and to transform in order to cope with it (Luthar et al.). Further to this, in an Indigenous context, Marion Kickett has found the capacity for resilience to be supported by three key factors: family connections, culture and belonging as well as notions of identity and history. In exploring the layers of this autobiographical story, I employ this extended psychological notion of resilience in both a domestic ambit as well as the broader social context for Indigenous people surviving a system of external domination. Additionally I consider the resilience Aunty Hilda demonstrates at a pivotal interlude between girlhood and womanhood within the trajectory of her overall long and productive life, and within an intergenerational history of resistance and accommodation. What is especially important about her storytelling is its refusal to be contained by the imaginary of the settler nation and its generic Aboriginal-female subject. She refuses victimhood while at the same time illuminating the mechanisms of injustice, hinting also at possibilities for alternative and more equitable relationships of family and work across cultural divides. Considered through this prism, resilience is, I suggest, also a quality firmly connected to ideas of Aboriginal cultural-sovereignty and standpoint and to, what Victoria Grieves has identified as, the Aboriginal knowledge value of sharing (25, 28, 45). Storytelling as Pedagogy The story I discuss was verbally recounted in a manner that Westphalen describes as “a continuation of Dreaming Stories”, functioning to educate and connect people and country (13-14). As MacGill et al. note, “the critical and transformative aspects of decolonising pedagogies emerge from storytelling and involve the gift of narrative and the enactment of reciprocity that occurs between the listener and the storyteller.” Hilda told me that as a child she was taught not to ask questions when listening to the stories of an Elder, and her own children were raised in this manner. Hilda's oldest daughter described this as a process involving patience, intrigue and surprise (Elva Wanganeen). Narratives unfold through nuance and repetition in a complexity of layers that can generate multiple levels of meaning over time. Circularity and recursivity underlie this pedagogy through which mnemonic devices are built so that stories become re-membered and inscribed on the body of the listener. When a perceived level of knowledge-transference has occurred, a narrator may elect to elaborate further, adding another detail that will often transform the story’s social, cultural, moral or political context. Such carefully chosen additional detail, however, might re-contextualise all that has gone before. As well as being embodied, stories are also emplaced, and thus most appropriately told in the Country where events occurred. (Here I use the Aboriginal English term “Country” which encompasses home, clan estate, and the powerful complex of spiritual, animate and inanimate forces that bind people and place.) Hilda Wilson’s following account of her first job as a housekeeper for “one of Adelaide’s leading doctors”, Dr Frank Swann, provides an illustration of how she expertly uses traditional narrative forms of incrementally structured knowledge transmission within a cross-cultural setting to tell a story that expresses practices of resilience as resistance and transformation at its core. A “White Doctor” Story: The First Layer Aunty Hilda first told me this story when we were winding along the South Eastern Freeway through the Adelaide hills between Murray Bridge and Mount Barker, in 1997, on our way home to Adelaide from a trip to Camp Coorong, the Ngarrindjeri cultural education centre co-founded by her granddaughter. She was then 86 years old. Ahead of us, the profile of Mt Lofty rose out of the plains and into view. The highest peak in the Mount Lofty ranges, Yurrebilla, as it is known to Kaurna Aboriginal people, or Mt Lofty, has been an affluent enclave of white settlement for Adelaide’s moneyed elite since early colonial times. Being in place, or in view of place, provided the appropriate opportunity for her to tell me the story. It belongs to a group of stories that during our initial period of working together changed little over time until one day two years later she an added contextual detail which turned it inside out. Hilda described the doctor’s spacious hill-top residence, and her responsibilities of caring for Dr Swann’s invalid wife (“an hysteric who couldn't do anything for herself”), their twin teenage boys (who attended private college in the city) along with another son and younger daughter living at home (pers. com. Hilda Wilson). Recalling the exhilaration of looking down over the sparkling lights of Adelaide at night from this position of apparent “privilege” on the summit, she related this undeniably as a success story, justifiably taking great pride in her achievements as a teenager, capable of stepping into the place of the non-Indigenous doctor's wife in running the large and demanding household. Successfully undertaking a wide range of duties employed in the care of a family, including the disabled mother, she is an active participant crucial to the lives of all in the household, including to the work of the doctor and the twin boys in private education. Hilda recalled that Mrs Swann was unable to eat without her assistance. As the oldest daughter of a large family Hilda had previously assisted in caring for her younger siblings. Told in this way, her account collapses social distinctions, delineating a shared social and physical space, drawing its analytic frame from an Indigenous ethos of subjectivity, relationality, reciprocity and care. Moreover Hilda’s narrative of domestic service demonstrates an assertion of agency that resists colonial and patriarchal hegemony and inverts the master/mistress-servant relationship, one she firmly eschews in favour of the self-affirming role of the lady of the house. (It stands in contrast to the abuse found in other accounts for example Read, Tucker, Kartinyeri. Often the key difference was a continuity of family connections and ongoing family support.) Indeed the home transformed into a largely feminised and cross-culturalised space in which she had considerable agency and responsibility when the doctor was absent. Hilda told me this story several times in much the same way during our frequent encounters over the next two years. Each telling revealed further details that fleshed a perspective gained from what Patricia Hill Collins terms an “epistemic privilege” via her “outsider-within status” of working within a white household, lending an understanding of its social mechanisms (12-15). She also stressed the extent of her duty of care in upholding the family’s well-being, despite the work at times being too burdensome. The Second Version: Coming to Terms with Intersecting Oppressions Later, as our relationship developed and deepened, when I began to record her life-narrative as part of my doctoral work, she added an unexpected detail that altered its context completely: It was all right except I slept outside in a tin shed and it was very cold at night. Mount Lofty, by far the coldest part of Adelaide, frequently experiences winter maximum temperatures of two or three degrees and often light snowfalls. This skilful reframing draws on Indigenous storytelling pedagogy and is expressly used to invite reflexivity, opening questions that move the listener from the personal to the public realm in which domestic service and the hegemony of the home are pivotal in coming to terms with the overlapping historical oppressions of class, gender, race and nation. Suddenly we witness her subjectivity starkly shift from one self-defined and allied with an equal power relationship – or even of dependency reversal cast as “de-facto doctor's wife” – to one diminished by inequity and power imbalance in the outsider-defined role of “mistreated servant”. The latter was signalled by the dramatic addition of a single signifying detail as a decoding device to a deeper layer of meaning. In this parallel stratum of the story, Hilda purposefully brings into relief the politics in which “the private domain of women's housework intersected with the public domain of governmental social engineering policies” (Haskins 4). As Aileen Moreton-Robinson points out, what for White Australia was cheap labour and a civilising mission, for Indigenous women constituted stolen children and slavery. Protection and then assimilation were government policies under which Indigenous women grew up. (96) Hilda was sent away from her family to work in 1927 by the universally-feared Sister Pearl McKenzie, a nurse who too-zealously (Katinyeri, Ngarrindjeri Calling, 23) oversaw the Chief Protector’s policies of “training” Aboriginal children from the South Australian missions in white homes once they reached fourteen (Haebich, 316—20). Indeed many prominent Adelaide hills’ families benefited from Aboriginal labour under this arrangement. Hilda explained her struggle with the immense cultural dislocation that removal into domestic service entailed, a removal her grandfather William Rankine had travelled from Raukkan to Government House to protest against less than a decade earlier (The Register December 21, 1923). This additional layer of story also illuminates Hilda’s capacity for resilience and persistence in finding a way forward through the challenge of her circumstances (Luthar et al.), drawing on her family networks and sense of personhood (Kickett). Hilda related that her father visited her at Mount Lofty twice, though briefly, on his way to shearing jobs in the south-east of the state. “He said it was no good me living like this,” she stated. Through his active intervention, reinforcement was requested and another teenager from Point Pearce, Hilda’s future husband’s cousin, Annie Sansbury, soon arrived to share the workload. But, Hilda explained, the onerous expectations coupled with the cultural segregation of retiring to the tin shed quickly became too much for Annie, who stayed only three months, leaving Hilda coping again alone, until her father applied additional pressure for a more suitable placement to be found for his daughter. In her next position, working for the family of a racehorse trainer, Hilda contentedly shared the bedroom with the small boy for whom she cared, and not long after returned to Point Pearce where she married Robert Wilson and began a family of her own. Gendered Resilience across Cultural Divides Hilda explicitly speaks into these spaces to educate me, because all but a few white women involved have remained silent about their complicity with state sanctioned practices which exploited Indigenous labour and removed children from their families through the policies of protection and assimilation. For Indigenous women, speaking out was often fraught with the danger of a deeper removal from family and Country, even of disappearance. Victoria Haskins writes extensively of two cases in New South Wales where young Aboriginal women whose protests concerning their brutal treatment at the hands of white employers, resulted in their wrongful and prolonged committal to mental health and other institutions (147-52, 228-39). In the indentured service of Indigenous women it is possible to see oppression operating through Eurocentric ideologies of race, class and gender, in which Indigenous women were assumed to take on, through displacement, the more oppressed role of white women in pre-second world war non-Aboriginal Australian society. The troubling silent shadow-figure of the “doctor’s wife” indeed provides a haunting symbol of - and also a forceful rebellion against – the docile upper middle-class white femininity of the inter-war era. Susan Bordo has argued that that “the hysteric” is archetypal of a discourse of ‘pathology as embodied protest’ in which the body may […] be viewed as a surface on which conventional constructions of femininity are exposed starkly to view in extreme or hyperliteral form. (20) Mrs Swann’s vulnerability contrasts markedly with the strength Hilda expresses in coping with a large family, emanating from a history of equitable gender relations characteristic of Ngarrindjeri society (Bell). The intersection of race and gender, as Marcia Langton contends “continues to require deconstruction to allow us to decolonise our consciousness” (54). From Hilda’s brief description one grasps a relationship resonant with that between the protagonists in Tracy Moffat's Night Cries, (a response to the overt maternalism in the film Jedda) in which the white mother finds herself utterly reliant on her “adopted” Aboriginal daughter at the end of her life (46-7). Resilience and Survival The different versions of story Hilda deploys, provide a pedagogical basis to understanding the broader socio-political framework of her overall life narrative in which an ability to draw on the cultural continuity of the past to transform the future forms an underlying dynamic. This demonstrated capacity to meet the challenging conditions thrown up by the settler-colonial state has its foundations in the connectivity and cultural strength sustained generationally in her family. Resilience moves from being individually to socially determined, as in Kickett’s model. During the onslaught of dispossession, following South Australia’s 1836 colonial invasion, Ngarrindjeri were left near-starving and decimated from introduced diseases. Pullume (c1808-1888), the rupuli (elected leader of the Ngarrindjeri Tendi, or parliament), Hilda’s third generation great-grandfather, decisively steered his people through the traumatic changes, eventually negotiating a middle-path after the Point McLeay Mission was established on Ngarrindjeri country in 1859 (Jenkin, 59). Pullume’s granddaughter, the accomplished, independent-thinking Ellen Sumner (1842—1925), played an influential educative role during Hilda’s youth. Like other Ngarrindjeri women in her lineage, Ellen Sumner was skilled in putari practice (female doctor) and midwifery culture that extended to a duty of care concerning women and children (teaching her “what to do and what not to do”), which I suggest is something Hilda herself drew from when working with the Swann family. Hilda’s mother and aunties continued aspects of the putari tradition, attending births and giving instruction to women in the community (Bell, 171, Hughes Grandmother, 52-4). As mentioned earlier, when the South Australian government moved to introduce The Training of Children Act (SA) Hilda’s maternal grandfather William Rankine campaigned vigorously against this, taking a petition to the SA Governor in December 1923 (Haebich, 315-19). As with Aunty Hilda, William Rankine used storytelling as a method to draw public attention to the inequities of his times in an interview with The Register which drew on his life-narrative (Hughes, My Grandmother, 61). Hilda’s father Wilfred Varcoe, a Barngarrla-Wirrungu man, almost a thousand kilometres away from his Poonindie birthplace, resisted assimilation by actively pursuing traditional knowledge networks using his mobility as a highly sought after shearer to link up with related Elders in the shearing camps, (and as we saw to inspect the conditions his daughter was working under at Mt Lofty). The period Hilda spent as a servant to white families to be trained in white ways was in fact only a brief interlude in a long life in which family connections, culture and belonging (Kickett) served as the backbone of her resilience and resistance. On returning to the Point Pearce Mission, Hilda successfully raised a large family and activated a range of community initiatives that fostered well-being. In the 1960s she moved to Adelaide, initially as the sole provider of her family (her husband later followed), to give her younger children better educational opportunities. Working with Aunty Gladys Elphick OBE through the Council of Aboriginal Women, she played a foundational role in assisting other Aboriginal women establish their families in the city (Mattingly et al., 154, Fisher). In Adelaide, Aunty Hilda became an influential, much loved Elder, living in good health to the age of ninety-six years. The ability to survive changing circumstances, to extend care over and over to her children and Elders along with qualities of leadership, determination, agency and resilience have passed down through her family, several of whom have become successful in public life. These include her great-grandson and former AFL football player, Michael O’Loughlin, her great-nephew Adam Goodes and her-grand-daughter, the cultural weaver Aunty Ellen Trevorrow. Arguably, resilience contributes to physical as well as cultural longevity, through caring for the self and others. Conclusion This story demonstrates how sociocultural dimensions of resilience are contextualised in practices of everyday lives. We see this in the way that Aunty Hilda Wilson’s self-narrated story resolutely defies attempts to know, subjugate and categorise, operating instead in accord with distinctively Aboriginal expressions of gender and kinship relations that constitute an Aboriginal sovereignty. Her storytelling activates a revision of collective history in ways that valorise Indigenous identity (Kirmayer et al.). Her narrative of agency and personal achievement, one that has sustained her through life, interacts with the larger narrative of state-endorsed exploitation, diffusing its power and exposing it to wider moral scrutiny. Resilience in this context is inextricably entwined with practices of cultural survival and resistance developed in response to the introduction of government policies and the encroachment of settlers and their world. We see resilience too operating across Hilda Wilson’s family history, and throughout her long life. The agency and strategies displayed suggest alternative realities and imagine other, usually more equitable, possible worlds. References Bell, Diane. Ngarrindjeri Wurruwarrin: A World That Is, Was and Will Be. Melbourne: Spinifex, 1998. Bordo, Susan. “The Body and the Reproduction of Femininity.” Writing on the Body: Female Embodiment and Feminist Theory. Eds. Katie Conboy, Nadia Medina, and Sarah Stanbury. New York: Columbia UP, 1997. 90-110. Collins, Patricia Hill. Black Feminist Thought. New York: Routledge, 2000. Fisher, Elizabeth M. "Elphick, Gladys (1904–1988)." Australian Dictionary of Biography. National Centre of Biography, Australian National University, 29 Sep. 2013. ‹http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/elphick-gladys-12460/text22411>. Grieves, Victoria. Aboriginal Spirituality: Aboriginal Philosophy, The Basis of Aboriginal Social and Emotional Wellbeing, Melbourne University: Cooperative Research Centre for Aboriginal Health, 2009. Haebich, Anna. Broken Circles: The Fragmenting of Indigenous Families. Fremantle: Fremantle Arts Press, 2000. Haskins, Victoria. My One Bright Spot. London: Palgrave, 2005. Hughes, Karen. "My Grandmother on the Other Side of the Lake." PhD thesis, Department of Australian Studies and Department of History, Flinders University. Adelaide, 2009. ———. “Microhistories and Things That Matter.” Australian Feminist Studies 27.73 (2012): 269-278. ———. “I’d Grown Up as a Child amongst Natives.” Outskirts: Feminisms along the Edge 28 (2013). 29 Sep. 2013 ‹http://www.outskirts.arts.uwa.edu.au/volumes/volume-28/karen-hughes>. Jenkin, Graham. Conquest of the Ngarrindjeri. Adelaide: Rigby, 1979. Kartinyeri, Doris. Kick the Tin. Melbourne: Spinifex, 2000. Kartinyeri, Doreen. My Ngarrindjeri Calling, Adelaide: Wakefield, 2007. Kickett, Marion. “Examination of How a Culturally Appropriate Definition of Resilience Affects the Physical and Mental Health of Aboriginal People.” PhD thesis, Curtin University, 2012. Kirmayer, L.J., S. Dandeneau, E. Marshall, M.K. Phillips, K. Jenssen Williamson. “Rethinking Resilience from Indigenous Perspectives.” Canadian Journal of Psychiatry 56.2 (2011): 84-91. Luthar, S., D. Cicchetti, and B. Becker. “The Construct of Resilience: A Critical Evaluation and Guidelines for Future Work.” Child Development 71.3 (2000): 543-62. MacGill, Bindi, Julie Mathews, Ellen Trevorrow, Alice Abdulla, and Deb Rankine. “Ecology, Ontology, and Pedagogy at Camp Coorong,” M/C Journal 15.3 (2012). Mattingly, Christobel, and Ken Hampton. Survival in Our Own Land, Adelaide: Wakefield, 1988. Moreton-Robinson, Aileen. Talkin’ Up to the White Woman. St Lucia: UQP, 2000. Night Cries, A Rural Tragedy. Dir. Tracy Moffatt. Chili Films, 1990. Read, Peter. A Rape of the Soul So Profound. Crows Nest: Allen & Unwin, 2002. Tucker, Margaret. If Everyone Cared. Sydney: Ure Smith, 1977. Wanganeen, Elva. Personal Communication, 2000. Westphalen, Linda. An Anthropological and Literary Study of Two Aboriginal Women's Life Histories: The Impacts of Enforced Child Removal and Policies of Assimilation. New York: Mellen Press, 2011.

Introduction: Multiple data collections can be a burden for clinicians. In 2009, the Australian Stroke Clinical Registry (AuSCR) was established by non-government and research organizations to provide quality of care data unavailable for acute stroke admissions. We show here the reliability of linking complimentary registry data with routinely collected hospital discharge data submitted to governmental bodies. Hypothesis: A high quality linkage with a > 90% rate is possible, but requires multiple personal identifiers common to each dataset. Methods: AuSCR identifying variables included date of birth (DoB), Medicare number, first name, surname, postcode, gender, hospital record number, hospital name and admission date. The Victorian Department of Health emergency department (ED) and hospital discharge linked dataset has most of these, with first name truncated to the first 3 digits, but no surname. Common data elements of AuSCR patients registered at a large hospital in Melbourne, Victoria (Australia) between 15 June 2009 and 31 December 2010 were submitted to undergo stepwise deterministic linkage. Results: The Victorian AuSCR sample had 818 records from 788 individuals. Three steps with 1) Medicare number, postcode, gender and DoB (80% matched); 2) hospital number/admit date; and 3) ED number/visit date were required to link AuSCR data with the ED and hospital discharge data. These led to an overall high quality linkage of >99% (782/788) of AuSCR patients, including 731/788 for ED records and 736/788 for hospital records. Conclusion: Multiple personal identifiers from registries are required to achieve reliable linkage to routinely collected hospital data. Benefits of these linked data include the ability to investigate a broader range of research questions than with a single dataset. Characters with spaces= 1941 (limit is 1950)

Abstract This brief-report details my experiences teaching critical theory at the intersection of race/ class/ gender/ sexuality/ nationality through analogue mapping exercises from my tutorial room at Murdoch University in Western Australia to a group mapping project at the 2018 Digital Humanities Summer Institute (DHSI) at the University of Victoria, Canada (UVic). Given the proximity of both countries to the history of the British Empire and current affiliation of both with the Commonwealth, my report details teaching efforts to mediate against a “pedagogy of the digitally oppressed.” In drawing on the formative concept offered by Brazilian educator-theorist Paulo Freire, I juxtapose the analogue mapping exercises through interposed lens of postcolonial, race, and queer theory. Recognizing the dominant ideologies encoded within technology, I narrate the process in which team members and I from the QDH: Queer Digital Humanities seminar produced participatory, de-centralized maps as counter sites of identity to the colonialist spaces and insignias on the UVic campus. I conclude with collective queer of colour principles which undergird the DHSI exercise, which is a modality of what might best be described as “anti-colonial Q-mapping.”

This study aims to understand how people engage with art in the era of selfies, digital devices, and social media. It examines the audience experience of an art exhibition, where visitors are encouraged to use social media to share their art experience, to understand how such an approach might change the nature of visitor engagement with art. Arguably, selfies taken in the art space enrich the visitor’s experience and engagement with art and function as co-creational, empowering, and authentic marketing tools for museums. Data for this research were collected through non-participant observation (ethnography) and netnography at the National Gallery of Victoria, in Melbourne, Australia. The results show that rather than promoting disengagement from the art piece, selfies in the art space become “networked material-discursive entanglements” empowering art consumers to co-create value and arts organizations to reduce their distance from consumers and reproduce the iconic authenticity of the artwork in the virtual space. The article contributes to selfie theory by overcoming the traditional view of selfies as manifestation of narcissistic self-expression. Instead, it promotes an interpretation of selfies as an empowering and democratizing means used by art consumers to develop narratives and identity projects in a context such as the museum where traditionally the development of the narrative is apanage of an elite. A further contribution provided by this research stems from the identification of clusters of visitors (i.e., reality escapers, art lovers, photoholics, and selfie lovers), placed on a continuum of value co-creation, which arts administrators need to be conscious of as they enter a more dynamic era of art consumption. By outlining managerial implications, this study provides an initial reflection on how arts managers can navigate the emerging era of the selfie in the museum context.

At the start of the twentieth century, many young Australian artists travelled abroad to expand their art education and to gain exposure to the modern art movements of Europe. Most of these artists were active members of artist associations such as the Victorian Artists Society or the New South Wales Society of Artists. Male artists from Victoria were generally also members of the Melbourne Savage Club, a club with a strong association with the arts.This paper investigates the dual function of the club, as a space where the artists felt “at home” in the familiar environment that the club offered whilst they were abroad and, at the same time, a meeting space where they could engage in a stimulating artistic environment and gain introductions to leading figures in the art world. For those artists who chose England, London’s arts clubs played a large role, for it was in these establishments that they discussed, exhibited, shared, and met with their English counterparts. The club environment in London would have a significant impact on male Australian artists, as it offered a space where they were integrated into the English art world, which enhanced their experience whilst abroad.Artists were seldom members of Australia’s early gentlemen’s clubs, however, in the late nineteenth century Melbourne, artists formed less formal social groupings with exotic names such as the Prehistoric Order of Cannibals, the Buonarotti Club, and the Ishmael Club (Mead). Melbourne artists congregated in these clubs until the Melbourne Savage Club, modelled on the London Savage Club (1857)—a club whose membership was restricted to practitioners in the performing and visual arts—opened its doors in 1894.The Melbourne Savage Club had its origins in the Metropolitan Music Club, established in the late 1880s by a group of professional and amateur musicians and music lovers. The club initially admitted musicians and people from the dramatic professions free-of-charge, however, author Randolph Bedford (1868–1941) and artist Alf Vincent (1874–1915) were not content to be treated on a different basis to the musicians and actors, and two months after Vincent joined the club, at a Special General Meeting, the club resolved to vary Rule 6, “to admit landscape or portrait painters and sculptors without entrance fee” (Melbourne Savage Club). At another Special General Meeting, a year later, the rule was altered to admit “recognised members of the musical, dramatic and artistic professions and sculptors without payment of entrance fee” (Melbourne Savage Club).This resulted in an immediate influx of prominent Victorian male artists (Williams) and the Melbourne Savage Club became their place of choice to gather and enjoy the fellowship the club offered and to share ideas in a convivial atmosphere. When the opportunity arose for them to travel to London in the early twentieth century, they met in London’s famous art clubs. Membership of the Melbourne Savage Club not only conferred rights to visit reciprocal clubs whilst in London, but also facilitated introductions to potential patrons. The London clubs were the venue of choice for visiting artists to meet their fellow artist expatriates and to share experiences and, importantly, to meet with their British counterparts, exhibit their works, and establish valuable contacts.The London Savage Club attracted many Australian expatriates. Not only is it the grandfather of London’s bohemian clubs but also it was the model for arts clubs the world over. Founded in 1857, the qualification for admission was (and still is) to be, “a working man in literature or art, and a good fellow” (Halliday vii). If a candidate met these requirements, he would be cordially received “come whence he may.” This was embodied in the club’s first rules which required applicants for membership to be from a restricted range of pursuits relating to the arts thought to be commensurate with its bohemian ideals, namely art, literature, drama, or music.The second London arts club that attracted expatriate Australian artists was the New English Arts Club, founded in 1886 by young English artists returning from studying art in Paris. Members of The New English Arts Club were influenced by the Impressionist style as opposed to the academic art shown at the Royal Academy. As a meeting place for Australia’s expatriate artists, the New English Arts Club had a particular influence, as it exposed them to significant early Modern artist members such as John Singer Sargent (1856–1925), Walter Sickert (1860–1942), William Orpen (1878–1931) and Augustus John (1878–1961) (Corbett and Perry; Thornton; Melbourne Savage Club).The third, and arguably the most popular with the expatriate Australian artists’ club, was the Chelsea Arts Club, a bohemian club formed in 1891 by local working artists looking for a place to go to “meet, talk, eat and drink” (Cross).Apart from the American-born founding member, James McNeill Whistler (1834–1903), amongst the biggest Chelsea names at the time of the influx of travelling young Australian artists were modernists Sir William Orpen, Augustus John, and John Sargent. The opportunity to mix with these leading British contemporary artists was irresistible to these antipodean artists (55).When Melbourne artist, Miles Evergood (1871–1939) arrived in London from America in 1910, he had been an active exhibiting member of the Salmagundi Club, a New York artists’ club. Almost immediately he joined the New English Arts Club and the Chelsea Arts Club. Hammer tells of him associating with “writer Israel Zangwill, sculptor Jacob Epstein, and anti-academic artists including Walter Sickert, Augustus John, John Lavery, John Singer Sargent and C.R.W. Nevison, who challenged art values in Britain at the beginning of the century” (Hammer 41).Arthur Streeton (1867–1943) used the Chelsea Arts Club as his postal address, as did many expatriate artists. The Melbourne Savage Club archives contain letters and greetings, with news from abroad, written from artist members back to their “Brother Savages” (Various).In late 1902, Streeton wrote to fellow artist and Savage Club member Tom Roberts (1856–1931) from London:I belong to the Chelsea Arts Club now, & meet the artists – MacKennel says it’s about the most artistic club (speaking in the real sense) in England. … They all seem to be here – McKennal, Longstaff, Mahony, Fullwood, Norman, Minns, Fox, Plataganet Tudor St. George Tucker, Quinn, Coates, Bunny, Alston, K, Sonny Pole, other minor lights and your old friend and admirer Smike – within 100 yards of here – there must be 30 different studios. (Streeton 94)Whilst some of the artists whom Streeton mentioned were studying at either the Royal Academy or the Slade School, it was the clubs like the Chelsea Arts Club where they were most likely to encounter fellow Australian artists. Tom Roberts was obviously attentive to Streeton’s enthusiastic account and, when he returned to London the following year to work on his commission for The Big Picture of the 1901 opening of the first Commonwealth Parliament, he soon joined. Roberts, through his expansive personality, became particularly active in London’s Australian expatriate artistic community and later became Vice-President of the Chelsea Arts Club. Along with Streeton and Roberts, other visiting Melbourne Savage Club artists joined the Chelsea Arts Club. They included, John Longstaff (1861–1941), James Quinn (1869–1951), George Coates (1869–1930), and Will Dyson (1880–1938), along with Sydney artists Henry Fullwood (1863–1930), George Lambert (1873–1930), and Will Ashton (1881–1963) (Croll 95). Smith describes the exodus to London and Paris: “It was the Chelsea Arts Club that the Heidelberg School established its last and least distinguished camp” (Smith, Smith and Heathcote 152).Streeton, who retained his Chelsea Arts Club membership when he returned for a while to Australia, wrote to Roberts in 1907, “I miss Chelsea & the Club-boys” (Streeton 107). In relation to Frederick McCubbin’s pending visit he wrote: “Prof McCubbin left here a week ago by German ‘Prinz Heinrich.’ … You’ll introduce him at the Chelsea Club and I hope they make him an Hon. Member, etc” (Streeton et al. 85). McCubbin wrote, after an evening at the Chelsea Arts Club, following a visit to the Royal Academy: “Tonight, I am dining with Australian artists in Soho, and shall be there to greet my old friends. How glad I am! Longstaff will be there, and Frank Stuart, Roberts, Fullwood, Pontin, Coates, Quinn, and Tucker’s brother, and many others from all around” (MacDonald, McCubbin and McCubbin 75). Impressed by the work of Turner he wrote to his wife Annie, following avisit to the Tate Gallery:I went yesterday with Fullwood and G. Coates and Tom Roberts for a ramble … to the Tate Gallery – a beautiful freestone building facing the river through a portico into the gallery where the lately found turners are exhibited – these are not like the greater number of pictures in the National Gallery – they represent his different periods, but are mostly in his latest style, when he had realised the quality of light (McCubbin).Clearly Turner’s paintings had a profound impression on him. In the same letter he wrote:they are mostly unfinished but they are divine – such dreams of colour – a dozen of them are like pearls … mist and cloud and sea and land, drenched in light … They glow with tender brilliancy that radiates from these canvases – how he loved the dazzling brilliancy of morning or evening – these gems with their opal colour – you feel how he gloried in these tender visions of light and air. He worked from darkness into light.The Chelsea Arts Club also served as a venue for artists to entertain and host distinguished visitors from home. These guests included; Melbourne Savage Club artist member Alf Vincent (Joske 112), National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) Trustee and popular patron of the arts, Professor Baldwin Spencer (1860–1929), Professor Frederick S. Delmer (1864–1931) and conductor George Marshall-Hall (1862–1915) (Mulvaney and Calaby 329; Streeton 111).Artist Miles Evergood arrived in London in 1910, and visited the Chelsea Arts Club. He mentions expatriate Australian artists gathering at the Club, including Will Dyson, Fred Leist (1873–1945), David Davies (1864–1939), Will Ashton (1881–1963), and Henry Fullwood (Hammer 41).Most of the Melbourne Savage Club artist members were active in the London Savage Club. On one occasion, in November 1908, Roberts, with fellow artist MacKennal in the Chair, attended the Australian Artists’ Dinner held there. This event attracted twenty-five expatriate Australian artists, all residing in London at the time (McQueen 532).These London arts clubs had a significant influence on the expatriate Australian artists for they became the “glue” that held them together whilst abroad. Although some artists travelled abroad specifically to take up places at the Royal Academy School or the Slade School, only a minority of artists arriving in London from Australia and other British colonies were offered positions at these prestigious schools. Many artists travelled to “try their luck.” The arts clubs of London, whilst similarly discerning in their membership criteria, generally offered a visiting “brother-of-the-brush” a warm welcome as a professional courtesy. They featured the familiar rollicking all-male “Smoke Nights” a feature of the Melbourne Savage Club. With a greater “artist” membership than the clubs in Australia, expatriate artists were not only able to catch up with their friends from Australia, but also they could associate with England’s finest and most progressive artists in a familiar congenial environment. The clubs were a “home away from home” and described by Underhill as, “an artistic Earl’s Court” (Underhill 99). Most importantly, the clubs were a centre for discourse, arguably even more so than were the teaching academies. Britain’s leading modernist artists were members of the Chelsea Arts Club and the New English Arts Club and mixed freely with the visiting Australian artists.Many Australian artists, such as Miles Evergood and George Bell (1878–1966), held anti-academic views similar to English club members and embraced the new artistic trends, which they would bring back to Australia. Streeton had no illusions about the relative worth of the famed institutions and the exhibitions held by clubs such as the New English. Writing to Roberts before he joins him in London, he describes the Royal Academy as having, “an inartistic atmosphere” and claims he “hasn’t the least desire to go again” (Streeton 77). His preference lay with a concurrent “International Exhibition”, which featured works by Rodin, Whistler, Condor, Degas, and others who were setting the pace rather than merely continuing the academic traditions.Architect Hardy Wilson (1881–1955) served as secretary of The Chelsea Arts Club. When he returned to Australia he brought back with him a number of British works by Streeton and Lambert for an exhibition at the Guild Hall Melbourne (Underhill 92). Artists and Bohemians, a history of the Chelsea Arts Club, makes special reference of its world-wide contacts and singles out many of its prominent Australian members for specific mention including; Sir John William (Will) Ashton OBE, later Director of the Art Gallery of New South Wales, and Will Dyson, whose illustrious career as an Australian war artist was described in some detail. Dyson’s popularity led to his later appointment as Chairman of the Chelsea Arts Club where he initiated an ambitious rebuilding program, improving staff accommodation, refurbishing the members’ areas, and adding five bedrooms for visiting members (Bross 87-90).Whilst the influence of travel abroad on Australian artists has been noted, the importance of the London Clubs has not been fully explored. These clubs offered artists a space where they felt “at home” and a familiar environment whilst they were abroad. The clubs functioned as a meeting space where they could engage in a stimulating artistic environment and gain introductions to leading figures in the art world. For those artists who chose England, London’s arts clubs played a large role, for it was in these establishments that they discussed, exhibited, shared, and met with their English counterparts. The club environment in London had a significant impact on male Australian artists as it offered a space where they were integrated into the English art world which enhanced their experience whilst abroad and influenced the direction of their art.ReferencesCorbett, David Peters, and Lara Perry, eds. English Art, 1860–1914: Modern Artists and Identity. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000.Croll, Robert Henderson. Tom Roberts: Father of Australian Landscape Painting. Melbourne: Robertson & Mullens, 1935.Cross, Tom. Artists and Bohemians: 100 Years with the Chelsea Arts Club. 1992. 1st ed. London: Quiller Press, 1992.Gray, Anne, and National Gallery of Australia. McCubbin: Last Impressions 1907–17. 1st ed. Parkes, A.C.T.: National Gallery of Australia, 2009.Halliday, Andrew, ed. The Savage Papers. 1867. 1st ed. London: Tinsley Brothers, 1867.Hammer, Gael. Miles Evergood: No End of Passion. Willoughby, NSW: Phillip Mathews, 2013.Joske, Prue. Debonair Jack: A Biography of Sir John Longstaff. 1st ed. Melbourne: Claremont Publishing, 1994.MacDonald, James S., Frederick McCubbin, and Alexander McCubbin. The Art of F. McCubbin. Melbourne: Lothian Book Publishing, 1916.McCaughy, Patrick. Strange Country: Why Australian Painting Matters. Ed. Paige Amor. The Miegunyah Press, 2014.McCubbin, Frederick. Papers, Ca. 1900–Ca. 1915. Melbourne.McQueen, Humphrey. Tom Roberts. Sydney: Macmillan, 1996.Mead, Stephen. "Bohemia in Melbourne: An Investigation of the Writer Marcus Clarke and Four Artistic Clubs during the Late 1860s – 1901.” PhD thesis. Melbourne: University of Melbourne, 2009.Melbourne Savage Club. Secretary. Minute Book: Melbourne Savage Club. Club Minutes (General Committee). Melbourne: Savage Archives.Mulvaney, Derek John, and J.H. Calaby. So Much That Is New: Baldwin Spencer, 1860–1929, a Biography. Carlton, Vic.: Melbourne University Press, 1985.Smith, Bernard, Terry Smith, and Christopher Heathcote. Australian Painting, 1788–2000. 4th ed. South Melbourne, Vic.: Oxford University Press, 2001.Streeton, Arthur, et al. Smike to Bulldog: Letters from Sir Arthur Streeton to Tom Roberts. Sydney: Ure Smith, 1946.Streeton, Arthur, ed. Letters from Smike: The Letters of Arthur Streeton, 1890–1943. Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1989.Thornton, Alfred, and New English Art Club. Fifty Years of the New English Art Club, 1886–1935. London: New English Art Club, Curwen Press 1935.Underhill, Nancy D.H. Making Australian Art 1916–49: Sydney Ure Smith Patron and Publisher. South Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1991.Various. Melbourne Savage Club Correspondence Book: 1902–1916. Melbourne: Melbourne Savage Club.Williams, Graeme Henry. "A Socio-Cultural Reading: The Melbourne Savage Club through Its Collections." Masters of Arts thesis. Melbourne: Deakin University, 2013.

Abstract Background: Feminizing hormone therapy with estradiol is used to align an individual’s physical characteristics with their gender identity. Australian expert consensus guidelines (1) recommend targeting estradiol concentrations of 250-600 pmol/L (68-163 pg/mL) based on local cross-sectional data (2). We aimed to establish the proportion of individuals achieving estradiol concentrations in consensus guidelines. Methods: A retrospective cross-sectional analysis was performed of transfeminine individuals attending a primary or secondary care clinic in Melbourne, Australia who were prescribed oral estradiol valerate for at least 6 months and had estradiol dose and concentration available. Estradiol concentration was measured by immunoassay. Outcomes were (1) proportion of individuals achieving target estradiol concentrations and (2) influence of estradiol dose and BMI on estradiol concentrations. Results: 259 individuals (median age 25.8(IQR 21.9,33.5) years)) had data available for analysis. Median duration of estradiol therapy was 24(15,33) months. Median estradiol concentration was 328(238,434) pmol/L (89(65,118) pg/mL) on 6(4,8) mg estradiol valerate. 172 (66%) individuals had estradiol concentrations within the target range recommended in consensus guidelines. 70 (27%) individuals had estradiol concentrations below target, and 17 (7%) above target. There was a weak positive correlation between estradiol dose and estradiol concentration (r=0.156, p=0.012). There was no correlation between BMI and estradiol concentration achieved (r=-0.063, p=0.413). Conclusions: 66% of individuals achieved estradiol concentration recommended in consensus guidelines with a relatively high oral estradiol dose. There was significant interindividual variability. Estradiol concentration should be interpreted in conjunction with clinical features of feminization and weighed against potential risks of escalating estradiol dose. References 1. Cheung AS, Wynne K, Erasmus J, Murray S, Zajac JD. Position statement on the hormonal management of adult transgender and gender diverse individuals. Med J Aust 2019; 211:127-133 2. Angus L, Leemaqz SY, Ooi O, Cundill P, Silberstein N, Locke P, Zajac JD, Cheung AS. Cyproterone acetate or spironolactone in lowering testosterone concentrations for transgender individuals receiving estradiol therapy. Endocr Connect 2019

Walk, walk, fashion babyWork it, move that b***h crazy — Lady Gaga, “Bad Romance” There's a brand new dance but I don't know its nameThat people from bad homes do again and againIt's big and it's bland, full of tension and fearThey do it over there but we don't do it hereFashion! Turn to the leftFashion! Turn to the right — David Bowie, “Fashion” Piece by pieceMy emotions are glued togetherYou’re a new patternSent towards one another: We have a secretive and thrilling motionOoh ooh ooh, you are my fashion — TaeYeon, “Fashion” The word ‘fashion’ conjures images of glitzy 90s supermodels stomping down a catwalk, a flock of Victoria Secret Angels flying in formation, or a crew of K-pop girl and boy bands sporting the latest looks and setting trends in hair, makeup, and fitness. In an age of Instafame and TikTok influencers, it is easy to view ‘fashion’ purely as something trivial or fleeting. We might talk of the latest fashions, or the ‘centuries old’ traditions of regional and folk garments. Fashion can mean the manner in which something is done or a fashionable way of thinking. It can also be used to discuss how things are created or fabricated, from heavy metals used in technology to lightweight garment fabrics and trims. Much of fashion studies focusses on Europe and North America, with the Fédération Française de la Couture (French Federation of Fashion and of Ready-to-Wear Couturiers and Fashion Designers) still holding sway over haute couture houses. If East Asian and South East Asian fashion is mentioned, it is usually in terms of textiles and manufacturing rather than couture or innovation. However, Japanese designer Hanae Mori (1026-2022) was the first Asian woman to be admitted as a design house to the Fédération in 1951. Mori notably had the patronage of Empress Masako, Hillary Clinton, Nancy Reagan and Grace Kelly. More recently, Chinese designer Guo Pei (b. 1967) was the first Asian designer to be invited as a guest member of the Chambre Syndicale de la Haute Couture (Trade Association of High Fashion) as part of the Fédération. We started this editorial with lyrics to pop and K-pop songs that reference fashion, but anyone familiar with Guo Pei will be aware of her rise in the popular zeitgeist when Bajan singer Rhianna attended the 2015 Met Gala in a 2008 yellow fur gown that weighed 25 kilos. However, fashion is also a place of protest and resistance. We need only look at the current protests in Iran which have seen women burn their hijabs in public after 22-year-old Mahsa Amini was arrested in September for allegedly breaking the country’s dress code, and mysteriously died in custody. At the time of writing, at least 83 people, including children, have been killed in the protests which are, above all, about a woman’s right to control her body and her clothing choices. The theme for this issue is drawn from the 2021 “Fashioning Gender in Asia” Women in Asia conference, convened by the Asian Studies Association of Australia (ASAA) Women’s Forum by Dr Emerald L. King, Dr Wendy Mee, Associate Professor Kerstin Steiner, and Associate Professor Sallie Yea. With much of the world’s textile and clothing production located in Asia, the theme for this issue lends itself to a wide interpretation of ‘fashion’ such as the slow fashion movement, garment construction, haute couture, cosplay and ‘bounding’, and gender expression through clothing. In this issue, we consider how bodies are fashioned and re-fashioned through social pressure, protest, resistance, and illness. We also consider how fashion and fashioning the body across time and space have become contested symbols not only of persona, gender, or sexualised bodies, but also of national identity or of how the nation is embodied through fashion. We begin with a feature article by Monika Winarnita, Sharyn Graham Davies, and Nicholas Herriman which looks at how Indonesian policewomen’s bodies are clothed and controlled in their role as border control and symbol of the nation. This article was based on a plenary talk by Sharyn Graham Davies for the 2021 Women in Asia Conference described above. Kathryn M. Tanaka discusses the importance of maintaining individual identity through dress and makeup in the face of institutionalisation and loss of self after a diagnosis of Hansen’s disease in turn-of-the-century Japan. Michelle Aung Thin reveals how secret fashion shoots in 70s Myanmar were an act of resistance and rebellion that is mirrored by current-day campaigners during the 2021 coup d’état. Carmen Sapunaru Tamas draws back the curtain on the glamourous world of Taisu Engeki in Japan, positing that this relatively unknown form of performance is just as valid as its more respected cousins kabuki, noh, and drag. In stark contrast, Robyn Gulliver discusses how ordinary tote bags and t-shirts have become a space of everyday protest in Australasia. Arnoud Arps looks at the performance of memory by Indonesian re-enactor groups who create modern-day interpretations of key moments during the turbulent and violent war for independence between 1943 and 1949. Megan Catherine Rose, Haruka Kurebayashi, and Rei Saionji return to Japan, where they investigate the affective potential of the ensembles created by Harajuku and decora street style practitioners. Moving from the streets of Japan to China, Amber Patterson-Ooi and Natalie Araujo look at how designers such as Guo Pei can use haute couture to interrogate and explore specific cultural imaginaries as well as the nature of gender and the socio-political climate in contemporary China. We close with an excerpt from Denise N. Rall’s 2022 edited collection, Fashion, Women, and Power: The Politics of Dress, which traverses the globe in its critique of power dressing and gender.

Abstract Background: Masculinising hormone therapy with testosterone is used to align an individual’s physical characteristics with their gender identity. Testosterone therapy is typically administered via intramuscular or transdermal routes and polycythaemia is the most common adverse event. Aims: To compare the risk of polycythaemia with different formulations of testosterone therapy in transmasculine individuals. Methods: A retrospective cross-sectional analysis was undertaken of transmasculine individuals at a primary and secondary care clinic in Melbourne, Australia. 180 individuals who were on testosterone therapy for &gt;6 months were included. Groups included those receiving (1) intramuscular testosterone undecanoate (n=125), (2) intramuscular testosterone enantate (n=31), or (3) transdermal testosterone (n=24). Outcome was prevalence of polycythaemia (defined as haematocrit &gt;0.5). Results: Mean age was 28.4 (8.8) years with a median duration of testosterone therapy 37.7 (24.2) months. 27% were smokers. There was no difference between groups in serum total testosterone concentration measured. Whilst there was no difference between groups in haematocrit, there was a higher proportion of patients with polycythemia in those who were on intramuscular testosterone enantate (23.3%) than on transdermal testosterone (0%), p=0.040. There was no statistically significant difference in polycythaemia between intramuscular testosterone undecanoate (15%) and transdermal, p=0.066 nor between intramuscular testosterone enantate and undecanoate, p=0.275. Conclusions: One in four individuals treated with intramuscular testosterone enantate and one in six treated with testosterone undecanoate had polycythaemia. No individual treated with transdermal testosterone had polycythaemia. This highlights the importance of regular monitoring of haematocrit in transmasculine individuals treated with testosterone and findings may inform treatment choices.

Each year, The Economist magazine’s “Economist Intelligence Unit” ranks cities based on “healthcare, education, stability, culture, environment and infrastructure”, giving the highest-ranking locale the title of most ‘liveable’ (Wright). For the past six years, The Economist has named Melbourne “the world’s most liveable city” (Carmody et al.). A curious portmanteau, the concept of liveability is problematic: what may feel stable and safe to some members of the community may marginalise others due to several factors such as gender, disability, ethnicity or class.The subjective nature of this term is referred to in the Australian Government’s 2013 State of Cities report, in the chapter titled ‘Liveability’:In the same way that the Cronulla riots are the poster story for cultural conflict, the attack on Jillian Meagher in Melbourne’s Brunswick has resonated strongly with Australians in many capital cities. It seemed to be emblematic of their concern about violent crime. Some women in our research reported responding to this fear by arming themselves. (274)Twenty-nine-year-old Jill Meagher’s abduction, rape, and murder in the inner northern suburb of Brunswick in 2012 disturbs the perception of Melbourne’s liveability. As news of the crime disseminated, it revived dormant cultural narratives that reinforce a gendered public/private binary, suggesting women are more vulnerable to attack than men in public spaces and consequently hindering their mobility. I investigate here how texts written by women writers based in Melbourne’s inner north can latently serve as counter narratives to this discourse, demonstrating how urban public space can be benign, even joyful, rather than foreboding for women. Cultural narratives that promote the vulnerability of women oppress urban freedoms; this paper will use these narratives solely as a catalyst to explore literary texts by women that enact contrary narratives that map a city not by vicarious trauma, but instead by the rich complexity of women’s lives in their twenties and thirties.I examine two memoirs set primarily in Melbourne’s inner north: Michele Lee’s Banana Girl (2013) and Lorelai Vashti’s Dress, Memory: A memoir of my twenties in dresses (2014). In these texts, the inner north serves as ‘true north’, a magnetic destination for this stage of life, an opening into an experiential, exciting adult world, rather than a place haunted. Indeed, while Lee and Vashti occupy the same geographical space that Meagher did, these texts do not speak to the crime.The connection is made by me, as I am interested in the affective shift that follows a signal crime such as the Meagher case, and how we can employ literary texts to gauge a psychic landscape, refuting the discourse of fear that is circulated by the media following the event. I wish to look at Melbourne’s inner north as a female literary milieu, a site of boldness despite the public breaking that was Meagher’s murder: a site of female self-determination rather than community trauma.I borrow the terms “boldness”, “bold walk” and “breaking” from Finnish geographer Hille Koskela (and note the thematic resonances in scholarship from a city as far north as Helsinki). Her paper “Bold Walks and Breakings: Women’s spatial confidence versus fear of violence” challenges the idea that “fearfulness is an essentially female quality”, rather advocating for “boldness”, seeking to “emphasise the emancipatory content of … [women’s] stories” (302). Koskela uses the term “breaking” in her research (primarily focussed on experiences of Helsinki women) to describe “situations … that had transformed … attitudes towards their environment”, referring to the “spatial consequences” that were the result of violent crimes, or threats thereof. While Melbourne women obviously did not experience the Meagher case personally, it nevertheless resulted in what Koskela has dubbed elsewhere as “increased feelings of vulnerability” (“Gendered Exclusions” 111).After the Meagher case, media reportage suggested that Melbourne had been irreversibly changed, made vulnerable, and a site of trauma. As a signal crime, the attack and murder was vicariously experienced and mediated. Like many crimes committed against women in public space, Meagher’s death was transformed into a cautionary tale, and this storying was more pronounced due to the way the case played out episodically in the media, particularly online, allowing the public to follow the case as it unfolded. The coverage was visually hyperintensive, and particular attention was paid to Sydney Road, where Meagher had last been seen and where she had met her assailant, Adrian Bayley, who was subsequently convicted of her murder.Articles from media outlets were frequently accompanied by cartographic images that superimposed details of the case onto images of the local area—the mind map and the physical locality both marred by the crime. Yet Koskela writes, “the map of everyday experiences is in sharp contrast to the maps of the media. If a picture of a place is made by one’s own experiences it is more likely to be perceived as a safe ordinary place” (“Bold Walks” 309). How might this picture—this map—be made through genre? I am interested in how memoir might facilitate space for narratives that contest those from the media. Here I prefer the word memoir rather than use the term life-writing due to the former’s etymological adherence to memory. In Vashti and Lee’s texts, memory is closely linked to place and space, and for each of them, Melbourne is a destination, a city that they have come to alone from elsewhere. Lee came to the city after growing up in Canberra, and Vashti from Brisbane. In Dress, Memory, Vashti writes that the move to Melbourne “… makes you feel like a pioneer, one of those dusty and determined characters out of an American history novel trudging west to seek a land of gold and dreams” (83).Deeply engaging with Melbourne, the text eschews the ‘taken for granted’ backdrop idea of the city that scholar Jane Darke observes in fiction. She writes thatmodern women novelists virtually take the city as backdrop for granted as a place where a central female figure can be or becomes self-determining, with like-minded female friends as indispensable support and undependable men in walk-on roles. (97)Instead, Vashti uses memoir to self-consciously examine her relationship with her city, elaborating on the notion of moving from elsewhere as an act of self-determination, building the self through geographical relocation:You’re told you can find treasure – the secret bars hidden down the alleyways, the tiny shops filled with precious curios, the art openings overflowing onto the street. But the true gold that paves Melbourne’s footpaths is the promise that you can be a writer, an artist, a musician, a performer there. People who move there want to be discovered, they want to make a mark. (84)The paths are important here, as Vashti embeds herself on the street, walking through the text, generating an affective cartography as her life is played out in what is depicted as a benign, yet vibrant, urban space. She writes of “walking, following the grid of the city, taking in its grey blocks” (100), engendering a sense of what geographer Yi-Fu Tuan calls ‘topophilia’: “the affective bond between people and place or setting” (4). There is a deep bond between Vashti and Melbourne that is evident in her work that is demonstrated in her discussion of public space. Like her, friends from Brisbane trickle down South, and she lives with them in a series of share houses in the inner North—first Fitzroy, then Carlton, then North Melbourne, where she lives with two female friends and together they “roamed the streets during the day in a pack” (129).Vashti’s boldness not only lies in her willingness to take bodily to the streets, without fear, but also in her fastidious attention to her physical appearance. Her memoir is framed sartorially: chronologically arranged, from age twenty to thirty, each chapter featuring equally detailed reports of the events of that year as well as the corresponding outfits worn. A dress, transformative, is spotlighted in each of these chapters, and the author is photographed in each of these ‘feature’ dresses in a glossy section in the middle of the book. Koskela writes that, “if women dress up to be part of the urban spectacle, like 19th-century flâneurs, and also to mediate their confidence, they oppose their erasure and reclaim urban space”. For Koskela, the appearance of the body in public is an act of boldness:dressing can be seen as a means of reproducing power relations; in Foucaultian terms, it is a way of being one’s own overseer, and regulating even the most intimate spheres … on the other hand, interpreted in another way, dressing up can be seen as a form of resistance against the male gaze, as an opposition to the visual mastery over women, achieved by not being invisible or absent, but by dressing up proudly. (“Bold Walks” 309)Koskela’s affirmation that clothing can enact urban boldness contradicts reportage on the Meagher case that suggested otherwise. Some news outlets focussed on the high heels Meagher was wearing the night she was raped and murdered, as if to imply that she may have been able to elude her fate had she donned flats. The Age quotes witnesses who saw her on Sydney Road the night she was killed; one says she was “a little unsteady on her feet but not too bad”, another that she “seemed to be struggling to walk up the hill in her high heels” (Russell). But Vashti is well aware of the spatial confidence that the right clothing provides. In the chapter “Twenty-three”, she writes of being housebound by heartbreak, that “just leaving the house seemed like an epic undertaking”, so she “picked a dress a dress that would make me feel good … the woman in me emerged when I slid it on. In it, I instantly had shape, form. A purpose” (99). She and her friends don vocational costumes to outplay the competitive inner Melbourne rental market, eventually netting their North Melbourne terrace house by dressing like “young professionals”: “dressed up in smart op-shop blouses and pencil skirts to walk to the real estate office” (129).Michele Lee’s text Banana Girl also delves into the relationship between personal aesthetics and urban space, describing Melbourne as “a town of costumes, after all” (117), but her own style as “indifferently hip to the outside world without being slavish about it” (6). Lee’s world is East Brunswick for much of the book, and she establishes this connection early, introducing herself in the first chapter, as one of the “subversive and ironic people living in the hipster boroughs of the inner North of Melbourne” (6). She describes the women in her local area – “Brunswick Girls”, she dubs them: “no one wears visible make up, or if they do it’s not lathered on in visible layers; the haircuts are feminine without being too stylish, the clothing too; there’s an overall practical appearance” (89).Lee displays more of a knowingness than Vashti regarding the inner North’s reputation as the more progressive and creative side of the Yarra, confirmed by the Sydney Morning Herald:The ‘northside’ comprises North Melbourne, Carlton, Fitzroy, Collingwood, Abbotsford, Thornbury, Brunswick and Coburg. Bell Street is the boundary for northsiders. It stands for artists, warehouse parties, bicycles, underground music, lightless terrace houses, postmodernity and ‘awareness’. (Craig)As evidenced in late scholar John Maclaren’s book Melbourne: City of Words, the area has long enjoyed this reputation: “After the war, these neighbourhoods were colonized by migrants from Europe, and in the 1960s by the artists, musicians, writers, actors, junkies and layabouts whose stories Helen Garner was to tell” (146). As a young playwright, Lee sees herself reflected in this milieu, writing that she’s “an imaginative person, I’m university educated, I vote the way you’d expect me to vote and I’m a member of the CPSU. On principle I remain a union member” (7), toeing that line of “awareness” pithily mentioned by the SMH.Like Vashti, there are constant references to Lee’s exact geographical location in Melbourne. She ‘drops pins’ throughout, cultivating a connection to place that blurs home and the street, fostering a sense of belonging beyond one’s birthplace, belonging to a place chosen rather than raised in. She plants herself in this local geography. Returning to the first chapter, she includes “jogger by the Merri Creek” in her introduction (7), and later jokingly likens a friendship with an ex as “no longer on stage at the Telstra Dome but still on tour” (15), employing Melbourne landmarks as explanatory shorthand. She refers to places by name: one could physically tour inner North and CBD hotspots based on Lee’s text, as it is littered with mentions of bars, restaurants, galleries and theatre venues. She frequents the Alderman in East Brunswick and Troika in the city, as well as a bar that Jill Meagher spent time in on the night she went missing – the Brunswick Green.While offering the text a topographical authenticity, this can sometimes prove distracting: rather than simply stating that she goes to the library, she writes that she visits “the City of Melbourne library” (128), and rather than just going to a pizza parlour, they visit “Bimbo’s” (129) or “Pizza Meine Liebe” (101). Yet when Lee visits family in Canberra, or Laos on an arts grant, business names are forsaken. One could argue that the cultural capital offered by namedropping trendy Melburnian bars, restaurants and nightclubs translates awkwardly on the page, and risks dating the text considerably, but elevates the spatiality of Lee’s work. And these landmarks are important within the text, as Lee’s world is divided spatially. She refers to “Theatre Land” when discussing her work in the arts, and her share house not as ‘home’ but consistently as “Albert Street”. She partitions her life into these zones: zones of emotion, zones of intellect/career, zones of family/heritage – the text offers close insight into Lee’s personal cartography, with her traversing the map “stubbornly on foot, still resisting becoming part of Melbourne’s bike culture” (88).While not always walking alone – often accompanied by an ex-boyfriend she nicknames “Husband” – Lee is independently-minded, stating, “I operate solo, I pay my own way” (34), meeting up with various romantic and sexual interests through the text for daytime trysts in empty office buildings or late nights out in the CBD. She is adventurous, yet reminds that she was not always so. She recalls a time when she was still residing in Canberra and visited a boyfriend who was living in Melbourne and felt intimidated by the “alien city”, standing in stark contrast to the familiarity she demonstrates otherwise.Lee and Vashti’s texts both chronicle women who freely occupy public space, comfortable in their surroundings, not engaging on the page with cultural narratives and media reportage that suggest they would be safer off the streets. Both demonstrate what Koskela calls the “pleasure to be able to take possession of space” (“Bold Walks” 308) – yet it could be argued that the writer’s possession of space is so routine, so unremarkable that it transcends pleasure: it is comfortable. They walk the streets alone and catch public transport alone without incident. They contravene advice such as that given by Victorian Police Homicide Squad chief Mick Hughes’s comments that women shouldn’t be “alone in parks” following the fatal stabbing of teenager Masa Vukotic in a Doncaster park in 2015.Like Meagher’s death, Vukotic’s murder was also mobilised by the media – and one could argue, by authorities – to contain women, to further a narrative that reinforces the public/private gender binary. However, as Koskela reminds, the fact that some women are bold and confident shows that women are not only passively experiencing space but actively take part in producing it. They reclaim space for themselves, not only through single occasions such as ‘take back the night’ marches, but through everyday practices and routinized uses of space. (“Bold Walks” 316)These memoirs act as resistance, actively producing space through representation: to assert the right to the city, one must be bold, and reclaim space that is so often overlaid with stories of violence against women. As Koskela emphasises, this is only done through use of the space, “a way of de-mystifying it. If one does not use the space, … ‘the mental map’ of the place is filled with indirect descriptions, the image of it is constructed through media and the stories heard” (“Bold Walks” 308). Memoir can take back this image through stories told, demonstrating the personal connection to public space. Koskela writes that, “walking on the street can be seen as a political act: women ‘write themselves onto the street’” (“Urban Space in Plural” 263). ReferencesAustralian Government. Department of Infrastructure and Transport. State of Australian Cities 2013. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia, 2013. 17 Jan. 2017 <http://infrastructure.gov.au/infrastructure/pab/soac/files/2013_00_infra1782_mcu_soac_full_web_fa.pdf>.Carmody, Broede, and Aisha Dow. “Top of the World: Melbourne Crowned World's Most Liveable City, Again.” The Age, 18 Aug. 2016. 17 Jan. 2017 <http://theage.com.au/victoria/top-of-the-world-melbourne-crowned-worlds-most-liveable-city-again-20160817-gqv893.html>.Craig, Natalie. “A City Divided.” Sydney Morning Herald, 5 Feb. 2012. 17 Jan. 2017 <http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/about-town/a-city-divided-20120202-1quub.html>.Darke, Jane. “The Man-Shaped City.” Changing Places: Women's Lives in the City. Eds. Chris Booth, Jane Darke, and Susan Yeadle. London: Paul Chapman Publishing, 1996. 88-99.Koskela, Hille. “'Bold Walk and Breakings’: Women's Spatial Confidence versus Fear of Violence.” Gender, Place and Culture 4.3 (1997): 301-20.———. “‘Gendered Exclusions’: Women's Fear of Violence and Changing Relations to Space.” Geografiska Annaler, Series B, Human Geography, 81.2 (1999). 111–124.———. “Urban Space in Plural: Elastic, Tamed, Suppressed.” A Companion to Feminist Geography. Eds. Lise Nelson and Joni Seager. Blackwell, 2005. 257-270.Lee, Michele. Banana Girl. Melbourne: Transit Lounge, 2013.MacLaren, John. Melbourne: City of Words. Arcadia, 2013.Russell, Mark. ‘Happy, Witty Jill Was the Glue That Held It All Together.’ The Age, 19 June 2013. 30 Jan. 2017 <http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/happy-witty-jill-was-the-glue-that-held-it-all-together-20130618-2ohox.html>Tuan, Yi-Fu. Topophilia: A Study of Environmental Perception, Attitudes and Values. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall Inc, 1974.Wright, Patrick, “Melbourne Ranked World’s Most Liveable City for Sixth Consecutive Year by EIU.” ABC News, 18 Aug. 2016. 17 Jan. 2017 <http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-08-18/melbourne-ranked-worlds-most-liveable-city-for-sixth-year/7761642>.

Very large numbers of people habitually spend time interacting in online social spaces based on the software developed by Pavel Curtis for Lambda MOO. Although chatting is part of the functionality of these spaces, it is much richer than the functionality given by basic chat rooms. In particular, members of these spaces explicitly declare a gender within the space (I will call it their 'presenting gender'), which may or may not correspond with their offline gender. As well as the traditional options of "male" and "female", it is possible to choose presenting genders such as "neutral", "royal", or "witch". Around 35% of the members of Media MOO and 22% of Lambda MOO have a presenting gender that is neither "male" nor "female" (Danet). I surveyed active citizens of another such space, Little Italy, by examining 400 characters that had accessed the space during the preceding month. Of these, 72 (18%) had a presenting gender other than "male", "female", and the default, "neutral" (assigned to Little Italians who haven't yet chosen a presenting gender). 11% had default presenting gender. I found that those who had a presenting gender 'other' than "male", "female", or the default were more likely to still be active in Little Italy a year later. This result holds at the 80% significance level -- in other words, there is a less than 1 in 5 probability that the difference observed could have arisen by chance if the distributions were in reality identical. In fact, 'other'-gendered active citizens were 23% more likely than "male" and 32% more likely than "female" active citizens to be still active a year later. This suggests that 'other'-gendered chat may be more a pleasant (or addictive) activity than male- or female-gendered chat. Amazingly, 49% of the 'other'-gendered citizens sampled were still active a year later. This intrigued me, so I sent a message to currently active Little Italians with presenting genders other than male or female, asking them why they had chosen such a presenting gender. I had 28 responses. Quotations from the responses below are by permission, and translated from the Italian. A popular idea amongst gender theorists (e.g. Stone) is that choosing a presenting gender other than "male" and "female" is a strategy for people who don't feel they fit precisely into gender stereotypes. This may include most of us to some degree. As the Kinks sang, "girls will be boys and boys will be girls, it's a mixed-up, muddled-up, shook-up world, except for Lola" -- where Lola has ambiguous presenting gender, and thus is the only non-mixed-up one. This is indeed the reason given by one respondent for choosing a presenting gender other than male or female: "despite being a man, I feel very feminine (since I was small I've always wanted to be a woman)". However, no other respondents gave this as their reason. Another idea from the literature is that of "gender masking" (Jaffe et al. 11-2, and table 1). According to this theory, people, especially women, hide their gender online in order to avoid discrimination and harassment, or gender-related assumptions. Indeed, one respondent described his/her 'masked' character as "a mind without sex or body, an entity without appearance, as insubstantial as a cloud of smoke". On the other hand, the majority of other-gendered Little Italians give some clue that they are either male or female in their character descriptions, and most give some clue when speaking socially within Little Italy. Italian is an inflected language, and has many constructions that reveal whether the speaker is male or female -- it is rare (although not unknown) for a Little Italian to avoid these constructions or to use them ambiguously, as might be expected by someone masking their gender. To consider another idea, Bruckman (also Reid ch. 3 iii) suggests that the online world can be an "identity workshop" (1), where people can emphasise particular aspects of their personality, or try out new personae, or experience what it is like to be someone completely different. Some Little Italians emphasise part of their real identity through their presenting gender, choosing for example to have a gender such as "rebel", "dutch", or "angel". One respondent suggested, "I chose 'angel' because I help everyone who asks me -- and some who don't ask -- let's say I like being a guardian angel ;) and because my name is Michelangelo". Other Little Italians choose 'other' presenting genders precisely because these genders do not have an offline equivalent. Their choice is a form of creativity or escapism. One such respondent asked, "if everything is just like reality, what's the point of logging on?" This creative aspect becomes clear in the more outré genders invented by Little Italians, such as "\V/amp!" for a vampire character, which includes a visual reference to Dracula's high collar, and "...nothing like the sun" (the ellipsis is part of the gender). One surprise was that several citizens became 'other'-gendered by accident! Offline it is difficult to have a sex-change without realising, but online a badly-designed interface can have this effect. 3% of the sample had gender "me", which is a side-effect of a particular mistake in the use of the space. Another surprise was the joke gender. If you ask the system for information about a Little Italy character, one line of the answer is of the form "Sex: <the character's presenting gender>". Around 2% of the sample had presenting genders such as "If only!", "Too much!!", and "Go ahead!!". Several other citizens told me their genders were references to in-jokes amongst their online friends. Some characters had an 'other' gender because the character portrayed was not a human being -- such as a duck with presenting gender "duck", and a character called Harley with presenting gender "H-D". Looking at the 'other' genders in the sample, I was struck by the diversity both of the genders themselves, and of the reasons for which they are chosen. There is no single motive valid for most 'other'-gendered citizens. I was also struck by their lightheartedness. Gender studies texts tend to treat the choice of presenting gender as something highly serious and important. Several writers deal with gender as performance (Butler interviewed by Osborne and Segal, 109-26) or masquerade (Danet) with playful and ironic characteristics (Haraway 149-81). These writers, however, tend to emphasise a serious purpose underlying the performance. Haraway talks of "serious play" (149) and Butler is interested in performing gender as a subversive practice that aims to undermine the dominant forms of gender. Little Italy shows that in online spaces this need not be the case. The Little Italian with presenting gender "duck" does not think of herself as a duck, she is not critiquing female stereotypes, she is not questioning the idea of femaleness, she is not hiding her offline gender to avoid harassment, she is not asserting her inner duckiness; she's just having a bit of fun. Little Italy is more of an identity playground than an identity workshop. The creation of 'other' presenting genders in Little Italy is an example of the unexpectedly creative use of public space by members (in this case the space after Sex: in the character information) that was not originally designed with this use in mind. It is perhaps even more fascinating than other examples of folk art in unexpected places, such as graffiti, crop circles, bumper stickers or carved spoon handles, because of the clarity of its relationship with the artists' (lighthearted) construction of their identities. 'Stickiness' -- the likelihood of visitors to continue visiting a Website over an extended period of time -- is a quality much sought after by e-companies. Little Italy is very 'sticky' for all its citizens, but exceptionally so for other-gendered ones. In my opinion, it is the personal creative investment of the other-gendered citizens in Little Italy that makes them especially likely to remain active citizens. 'Other' presenting genders are possible in Little Italy because Pavel Curtis's software does not limit the options to male and female. This research suggests that designers and administrators of commercial Websites who want stickiness should avoid making assumptions about how their visitors may wish to present and express themselves. Rather, they should try to leave spaces open for their visitors' creativity. Many commercial Websites try to control and limit visitors' interaction, using forms and limited-choice menus. But if I am right about the stickiness of personal creative investment, then this may be a mistake. Creative empowerment of visitors may be better for the bottom line. Acknowledgements Grazie ai cittadini e wiz di Little Italy, sopratutto a quelli citati, per loro aiuto e amichevolezza. References Bruckman, Amy. "Identity Workshop: Emergent Social and Psychological Phenomena in Text-based Virtual Reality." Masters thesis, MIT Media Laboratory. 1992. Danet, Brenda. "Text as Mask: Gender and Identity on the Internet." Conference on "Masquerade and Gendered Identity". Venice, Italy, Feb. 1996. 18 Jul. 2000 <http://atar.mscc.huji.ac.il/~msdanet/mask.php>. Haraway, Donna. "A Cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and Socialist-Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century." Simians, Cyborgs and Women: The Reinvention of Nature. New York: Routledge, 1991. Jaffe, J. Michael, et al. "Gender, Pseudonyms, and CMC: Making Identities and Baring Souls." 45th Annual Conference of the International Communication Association. Albuquerque, USA, 1995. 18 Jul. 2000 <http://members.iworld.net/yesunny/genderps.php>. Osborne, Peter, and Lynne Segal. "Gender as Performance." Interview with Judith Butler. A Critical Sense: Interviews with Intellectuals. Ed. Peter Osborne. London and New York: Routledge, 1996. Elizabeth Reid. "Cultural Formations in Text-based Virtual Realities." Masters thesis, Dept. of English, University of Melbourne. 1994. 11 Aug. 2000 <http://www.aluluei.com>. Stone, Allucquère Rosanne. "Will the Real Body Please Stand Up? Boundary Stories about Virtual Cultures." Cyberspace: First Steps. Ed. Michael Benedikt. Cambridge, MA: MIT P, 1991. 18-118. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Miranda Mowbray. "Neither Male nor Female: Other -- Gendered Chat in Little Italy." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3.4 (2000). [your date of access] <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0008/gendered.php>. Chicago style: Miranda Mowbray, "Neither Male nor Female: Other -- Gendered Chat in Little Italy," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3, no. 4 (2000), <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0008/gendered.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Miranda Mowbray. (2000) Neither male nor female: other -- gendered chat in Little Italy. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3(4). <http://www.api-network.com/mc/0008/gendered.php> ([your date of access]).

Introduction Fashion has long been associated with resistance movements across Asia and Australia, from the hand-spun cotton Khadi of Mahatma Gandhi’s freedom struggle to the traditional ankle length robe worn by Tibetans in the ‘White Wednesday Movement’ (Singh et al.; Yangzom). There are many reasons why fashion and activism have been interlinked. Fashion can serve as a form of nonverbal communication (Crane), which can convey activists’ grievances and concerns while symbolising solidarity (Doerr). It can provide an avenue to enact individual agency against repressive, authoritarian regimes (Yangzom; Doerr et al.). Fashion can codify a degree of uniformity within groups and thereby signal social identity (Craik), while also providing a means of building community (Barry and Drak). Fashion, therefore, offers activists the opportunity to develop the three characteristics which unite a social or environmental movement: a shared concern about an issue, a sense of social identity, and connections between individuals and groups. But while these fashion functions map onto movement characteristics, it remains unclear whether activists across the world deliberately include fashion into their protest action repertoires. This uncertainty exists partly because of a research and media focus on large scale, mass protests (Lester and Hutchins), where fashion characteristics are immediately visible and amenable to retrospective interpretation. This focus helps explain the rich volume of research examining the manifestation of fashion in past protests, such as the black, red, and yellow colours worn during the 1988 Aboriginal Long March of Freedom, Justice, and Hope (Maynard Dress; Coghlan), and the pink anti-Trump ‘pussyhats’ (Thompson). However, the protest events used to identify these fashion characteristics are a relatively small proportion of actions used by environmental activists (Dalton et al.; Gulliver et al.), which include not only rallies and marches, but also information evenings, letter writing sessions, and eco-activities such as tree plantings. This article aims to respond to Barnard’s (Looking) call for more empirical work on what contemporary cultural groups visually do with what they wear (see also Gerbaudo and Treré) via a content analysis of 36,676 events promoted on Facebook by 728 Australian environmental groups between 2010 and 2019. The article firstly reports findings from an analysis of this dataset to identify how fashion manifests in environmental activism, building on research demonstrating the role of protest-related nonverbal communications, such as protest signage (Bloomfield and Doolin), images (Kim), and icons, slogans, and logos (Goodnow). The article then considers what activists may seek to achieve through incorporating fashion into their action repertoire, and whether this suggests solidarity with activists seeking to effect environmental change across the wider Asian region. Fashion Activism Fashion is created through a particular assemblage of clothes, accessories, and hairstyles (Barry and Drak), which in turn forms a prevailing custom or style of dress (Craik). It is a cultural practice, providing ‘real estate’ (Benda 7) for an individual to express their social roles (Craik) and political identity (Behnke). Some scholars argue that fashion became overtly political during the 1960s and 70s, as social movements politicised appearance (Edwards). This has only increased in relevance with the rise of far right, populist, and authoritarian regimes, whose sub-cultures enact politicised identities through their distinct fashion characteristics (Gaugele and Titton; Gaugele). Fashion can therefore play an important role in protest movements, as “political subjectivities, political authority, political power and discipline are rendered visible, and thereby real, by the way fashion co-establishes them” (Behnke 3). Across the literature scholars have identified two primary avenues by which fashion and activism are connected. The first of these relates to activism targeting the fashion industry. This type of activism is found in both Asia and Australia, and promotes sustainable consumption choices such as buying used goods and transforming existing items (Chung and Yim), as well as highlighting garment worker exploitation within the fashion industry (Khan and Richards). The second avenue is called ‘fashion activism’: the use of fashion to intentionally signal a message seeking to evoke social and/or political change (Thompson). In this conceptualisation, clothing is used to signify a particular message (Crane). An example of this type of fashion activism is the ‘SlutWalk’, a protest where participants deliberately wore outfits described as slutty or revealing as a response to victim-blaming of women who had experienced sexual assault (Thompson). A key element of fashion activism thus appears to be its message intentionality. Clothes are specifically utilised to convey a message, such as a grievance about victim-blaming, which can then be incorporated into design features displayed on t-shirts, pins, and signs both on the runway and in protest events (Titton). However, while this ‘sender/receiver’ model of fashion communication (Barnard, Fashion as) can be compelling for activists, it is complex in practice. A message receiver can never have full knowledge of what message the sender seeks to signify through a particular clothing item, nor can the message sender predict how a receiver will interpret that message. Particular arrangements of clothing only hold communicative power when they are easily interpreted and related to the movement and its message, usually only intelligible to a specific culture or subculture (Goodnow). Even within that subculture it remains problematic to infer a message from a particular style of dress, as demonstrated in examples where dress is used to imply sexual consent; for example, in rape and assault cases (Lennon et al.). Given the challenges of interpreting fashion, do activists appear to use the ‘real estate’ (Benda 7) afforded by it as a protest tool? To investigate this question a pre-existing dataset of 36,676 events was analysed to ascertain if, and how, environmental activism engages with fashion (a detailed methodology is available on the OSF). Across this dataset, event categories, titles, and descriptions were reviewed to collate events connecting environmental activism to fashion. Three categories of events were found and are discussed in the next section: street theatre, sustainable fashion practices, and disruptive protest. Street Theatre Street theatre is a form of entertainment which uses public performance to raise awareness of injustices and build support for collective action (Houston and Pulido). It uses costumes as a vehicle for conveying messages about political issues and for making demands visible, and has been utilised by protesters across Australia and Asia (Roces). Many examples of street theatre were found in the dataset. For example, Extinction Rebellion (XR) consistently promoted street theatre events via sub-groups such as the ‘Red Rebels’ – a dedicated team of volunteers specialising in costumed street theatre – as well as by inviting supporters to participate in open street theatre events, such as in the ‘Halloween Dead Things Disco’. Dressed as spooky skeletons (doot, doot) and ghosts, we'll slide and shimmy down Sydney's streets in a supernatural style, as we bring attention to all the species claimed by the Sixth Mass Extinction. These street theatre events appeared to prioritise spectacle rather than disruption as a means to attract attention to their message. The Cairns and Far North Environment Centre ‘Climate Action Float’, for example, requested that attendees: Wear blue and gold or dress as your favourite reef animal, solar panel, maybe even the sun itself!? Reef & Solar // Blue & Gold is the guiding theme but we want your creativity take it from there. Most groups used street theatre as one of a range of different actions organised across a period of time. However, Climacts, a performance collective which uses ‘spectacle and satire to communicate the urgency of the climate and biodiversity crisis’ (Climacts), utilised this tactic exclusively. Their Climate Guardians collective used distinctive angel costumes to perform at the Climate Conference of Parties 26, and in various places around Australia (see images on their Website). Fig. 1: Costumed protest against Downer EDI's proposed work on the Adani coalmine; Image by John Englart (CC BY-SA 2.0). Sustainable Fashion Practices The second most common type of event which connected fashion with activism were those promoting sustainable fashion practices. While much research has highlighted the role of activism in raising awareness of problems related to the fashion industry (e.g. Hirscher), groups in the dataset were primarily focussed on organising activities where supporters communally created their own fashion items. The most common of these was the ‘crafternoon’, with over 260 separate crafternoon events identified in the dataset. These events brought activists together to create protest-related kit such as banners, signs, and costumes from recycled or repurposed materials, as demonstrated by Hume Climate Action Now’s ‘Crafternoon for Climate’ event: Come along on Sunday arvo for a relaxed arvo making posters and banners for upcoming Hume Climate Action Now events… Bring: Paints, textas, cardboard, fabric – whatever you’ve got lying around. Don’t have anything? That’s cool, just bring yourself. Events highlighting fashion industry problems were less frequent and tended to prioritise sharing of information about the fashion industry rather than promoting protests. For example, Transition Town Vincent held a ‘Slowing Down Fast Fashion – Transition Town Vincent Movie Night’ while the Green Embassy promoted the ‘Eco Fashion Week’. This event, held in 2017, was described as Australia’s only eco-fashion week, and included runway shows, music, and public talks. Other events also focussed on public talks, such as a Conservation Council of ACT event called ‘Green Drinks Canberra October 2017: Summer Edwards on the fashion industry’ and a panel discussion organised by a group called SEE-Change entitled ‘The Sustainable Wardrobe’. Disruptive Protest and T-Shirts Few events in the dataset mentioned elements of fashion outside of street theatre or sustainable fashion practices, with only one organisation explicitly connecting fashion with activism in its event details. This group – Australian Youth Climate Coalition – organised an event called ‘Activism in Fashion: Tote Bags, T-shirts and Poster Painting!’, which asked: How can we consistently be involved in campaigning while life can be so busy? Can we still be loud and get a message across without saying a word? The iconic 21st century activist "t-shirt and tote-bag" combination is hard to miss these days! Unlike street theatre and sustainable fashion practices, fashion appeared to be a consideration for only a small number of disruptive protests promoted by environmental groups in Australia. XR Brisbane sought to organise a fashion parade during the 2019 Rebellion Week, while XR protesters in Melbourne stripped down to underwear for a march through Melbourne city arcades (see also Turbet). Few common fashion elements appeared consistently on individual activists participating in events, and these were limited to accessories, such as ‘Stop Adani’ earrings, or t-shirts sold for fundraising and promotional purposes. Indeed, t-shirts appeared to be the most promoted clothing item in the dataset, continuing a long tradition of their use in protests (e.g. Maynard, Blankets). Easy to create, suitable for displaying both text and imagery, t-shirts sharing anti-coal messages featured predominantly in the Stop Adani campaign, while yellow t-shirts were a common item in Knitting Nanna’s anti-coal seam gas mining protests. Fig. 2: Stop Adani earrings and t-shirts; Image by John Englart (CC BY-SA 2.0). The Role of Fashion in Environmental Activism As these findings demonstrate, fashion appears to be deliberately utilised in environmental activism primarily through street theatre and the promotion of sustainable fashion practices. While fewer examples of fashion in disruptive protest were found and no consistent fashion assemblage was identified, accessories and t-shirts were utilised by many groups. What may activists be seeking to achieve through incorporating fashion via street theatre and sustainable fashion practices? Some scholars have argued that incorporating fashion into protest allows activists to signal political dissent against authoritarian control. For example, Yanzoom noted that by utilising fashion as a means of communication, Tibetan activists were able to embody their political goals despite repression of speech and movement by political powerholders. However, a consistent fashion repertoire across protests in this Australian dataset was not found. The opportunities afforded by protected protest rights in Australia and absence of violent police repression of disruptive protests may be one explanation why distinctive dress such as the masks and black attire of Hong Kong pro-democracy protesters did not manifest in the dataset. Other scholars have observed that fashion sub-cultures also developed partly to express anti-establishment politics, such as the punk movement in the 1970s. Radical clothing accessorised by symbols, bright hair colours, body piercings, and heavy-duty books signalled opposition to the dominant political ideology (Craik). However, none of these purposes appeared to play a role in Australian environmental activism either. Instead, it appears that Maynard’s contention that Australian protest fashion barely deviates from everyday dress remains true today. Fashion within the events promoted in this large empirical dataset retained the ‘prevalence of everyday clothing’ (Maynard, Dress 111). The lack of a clearly discernible single protest fashion style within the dataset may be related to the shortcomings of the sender/receiver model of fashion communication. As Barnard (Fashion Statements) argued, fashion is not always used as a vehicle for conveying messages, but also as a platform for constructing and reproducing identity. Indeed, a multiplicity of researchers have noted how fashion acts as a signal of what social groups individuals belong to (see Roach-Higgins and Eicher). Activist groups have a variety of goals, which not only include promoting environmental change but also mobilising more people to join their cause (Gulliver et al., Understanding). Stereotyping can hinder achievement of these goals. It has been demonstrated, for example, that individuals who hold negative stereotypes of ‘typical’ activists are less likely to want to associate with them, and less likely to adopt their behaviours (Bashir et al.). Accordingly, some activist groups have been shown to actively promote dress associated with other identity groups, specifically to challenge cultural constructions of environmental activist stereotypes (see also Roces). For example, Bloomfield and Doolins’s study of the NZ anti-GE group MAdGE (Mothers against Genetic Engineering in Food and the Environment) demonstrated how visual protest artifacts conveyed the protesters’ social identity as mothers and customers rather than environmental activists, claiming an alternative cultural mandate for challenging the authority of science (see also Einwohner et al.). The data suggest that Australian activists are seeking to avoid this stereotype as well. The absence of a consistent fashion promoted within the dataset may reflect awareness of problematic stereotypes that activists may be then deliberately seeking to avoid. Maynard (Dress), for example, has noted how the everyday dress of Australian protesters serves to deflect stereotypical labelling of participants. This strategy is also mirrored by the changing nature of groups within the Australian environmental movement. The event database demonstrates that an increasing number of environmental groups are emerging with names highlighting non-stereotypical environmental identities: groups such as ‘Engineers Declare’ and ‘Bushfire Survivors for Climate Action’. Beyond these identity processes, the frequent use of costumed street theatre protest suggests that activists recognise the value of using fashion as a vehicle for communicating messages, despite the challenges of interpretation described above. Much of the language used to promote street theatre in the Facebook event listings suggests that these costumes were deliberately designed to signify a particular meaning, with individuals encouraged to dress up to be ‘a vehicle for myth and symbol’ (Lavender 11). It may be that costumes are also utilised in protest due to their suitability as an image event, convenient for dissemination by mass media seeking colourful and engaging imagery (Delicath and Deluca; Doerr). Furthermore, costumes, as with text or colours presented on t-shirts, may offer activists an avenue to clearly convey a visual message which is more resistant to stereotyping. This is especially relevant given that fashion can be re-interpreted and misinterpreted by audiences, as well as reframed and reinterpreted by the media (Maynard, Dress). While the prevalence of costumed performance and infrequent mentions of fashion in the dataset may be explained by stereotype avoidance and messaging clarity, sustainable fashion practices were more straightforward in intent. Groups used multiple approaches to educate audiences about sustainable fashion, whether through fostering sustainable fashion practices or raising awareness of fashion industry problems. In this regard, fashion in protest in Australia closely resembles Asian sustainable fashion activism (see e.g. Chon et al. regarding the Singaporean context). In particular, the large number of ‘crafternoons’ suggests their importance as sites of activism and community building. Craftivism – acts such as quilting banners, yarn bombing, and cross stitching feminist slogans – are used by many groups to draw attention to social, political and environmental issues (McGovern and Barnes). This type of ‘creative activism’ (Filippello) has been used to challenge aesthetic and political norms across a variety of contested socio-political landscapes. These activities not only develop activism skills, but also foster community (Barry and Drak). For environmental groups, these community building events can play a critical role in sustaining and supporting ongoing environmental activism (Gulliver et al., Understanding) as well as demonstrating solidarity with workers across Asia experiencing labour injustices linked to the fashion industry (Chung and Yim). Conclusion Studies examining protest fashion demonstrate that clothing provides a canvas for sharing protest messages and identities in both Asia and Australia (Benda; Yangzom; Craik). However, despite the fashion’s utility as communication tool for social and environmental movements, empirical studies of how fashion is used by activists in these contexts remain rare. This analysis demonstrates that Australian environmental activists use fashion in their action repertoire primarily through costumed street theatre performances and promoting sustainable fashion practices. By doing so they may be seeking to use fashion as a means of conveying messages, while avoiding stereotypes that can demobilise supporters and reduce support for their cause. Furthermore, sustainable fashion activism offers opportunities for activists to achieve multiple goals: to subvert the fast fashion industry, to provide participation avenues for new activists, to help build activist communities, and to express solidarity with those experiencing fast fashion-related labour injustices. These findings suggest that the use of fashion in protest actions can move beyond identity messaging to also enact sustainable practices while co-opting and resisting hegemonic ideas of consumerism. By integrating fashion into the vibrant and diverse actions promoted by environmental movements across Australia and Asia, activists can construct and perform identities while fostering the community bonds and networks from which movements demanding environmental change derive their strength. Ethics Approval Statement This study was approved by the Research Ethics Committee of the University of Queensland (2018000963). 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