Mar 08 2010

A Week of International Women’s Day: #1 Equal Pay

Tag: Opinioncerebralmum @ 11:47 pm

Starting back on this abandoned blog with a series of thoughts on women’s issues this week.  Today is International Women’s Day and also, in Victoria and Tassie, Labour Day so work seems an appropriate subject.

“Women in today’s workplace still earn less than blokes, they work harder for promotion but are often overlooked in favour of men for more senior positions, and when they retire, have far less income to retire on. If they have children, most of the childcare, or organising it, will be left up to them. They will often work in poorly paid casual or part-time positions in order to prioritise family, especially in the pre-school years. ”

— Trish Bolton, Feminism is more than a memory

THE FACTS: 

  • Women’s average full-time weekly earnings - 17.2% lower than men
  • Women’s average, inc. part-time and casual work - 35% lower than men
  • Women’s likelihood of old age poverty - 2.5 times higher than men
  • Women’s average lifetime superannuation - 50% of what men have

MY RESPONSE TO THE FACTS:

Are these figures quite appalling? Yes.  Are they unjustifiable? Certainly.  Do I feel enraged?  I simply… don’t.

As a lifelong feminist, I have always found it difficult to get worked up over the pay equity issue. Partly, it is a question of triage. If the average woman has enough money to feed and clothe and house herself and her children, then my focus will be on other issues. In the face of serious threats to women’s health and safety, for example, the question of who is getting the biggest piece of the pie becomes rather trivial to me.  Will a few more female CEO’s  or female millionaires - often lauded in the media like some kind of breakthrough for women’s rights - change the daily experience of the average woman’s life?  Make her more free? The average woman, and even the average man, will never have access to that rarified air.

Incidentlally, the pay gap is actually at its widest in that rarified air.  (Women CEOs, for example, are often earning 50% less than a male in similar positions.)  The lowest paying jobs are where you will find the smallest gap.  And yes, yes… Women are over-represented in the lowest-paid jobs.  It kind of makes that old catch-cry of “Equal Pay for Equal Work” seem rather silly when women don’t get ‘equal’ work.

And perhaps I should be more outraged about that.  Because that IS about cultural attitudes and stereotypes which inhibit a woman’s power to choose.    Of course I agree that any woman who wishes it should have equitable career rewards and opportunities for advancement but the reality of this capitalist, consumerist Western society is that the majority of all people do work that is not particularly fulfilling or financially rewarding.  The issue for me is not whether women should be getting more of the pie:  It is whether or not that pie is worth buying into at all.

Can we measure someone’s societal value by their earnings, or by the prestige of their position?  Should we?  Yes, I know we do… but should we?

What exactly is wrong with those “low-paid” jobs anyway, apart from the fact that my telly might not be as big as my next-door neighbour’s?  Would I somehow feel more important and valued if I was an accountant than I would if I was answering an accountant’s phone? Would I actually be more important, or are we really just talking emperor’s new clothes here?  Can my paycheque really define my value as a member of this society or, after a certain point, actually improve the quality of my life, not just its appearance?

I might sound facetious but I am actually serious.  Our society places a lot of emphasis on work (in that old male ‘public sphere’ anyway) as identity and it grades identities with a rather ridiculous scale.  Doctors sometimes save lives.  But garbage collectors do more to make my life livable every week.

Isn’t there the danger of actually creating another yoke around women’s necks with the pressure to be ’successful’? Isn’t this simply another double-edged sword for women, like sexual liberation, where more is expected and less is given?  (Not that I’m knocking sexual liberation, but any number of conversations with women worrying that making a phone call after sex might be overstepping the bounds tells me there is some power imbalance there.)

I would suggest that this social pressure already exists.  Over the last decade several older feminists have come out and said, “We got it wrong: You can’t do everything.  That Superwoman thing was a big mistake.” And we know what the crux of the Superwoman problem is, and it is a significant part of the problem with pay disparity:  Motherhood.

In a brief discussion on Facebook earlier today, it was pointed out to me that because of lower earnings, often women are dis-empowered in the negotiations at home about who will work and who will care for the children.  If women earn less money, they will obviously be the ones who will stay home, or do flexible, low-paid work to supplement the family income.  This does take some choice out of the equation, it’s true, but I am not by any means convinced that even with equal work and equal pay there would be equity in those negotiations anyway.

And this is where the way we value work and the way in which we assign social value really comes to the fore: Even when both (heterosexual) parents are working full time, the majority of housework and childcare falls on women.  The vast majority of all unpaid work has no (acknowledged) social value and continues to be “women’s work”.  There will most certainly never be equal pay for equal work while this division of labour remains so firmly in place.  And while perhaps some legislative action and governmental changes might improve a woman’s pay cheque, and even her social status, the price is the expectation that, if a mother, she will have two full time jobs and will often feel that both of them represent a failure.

As a single mother myself, one would think that I might sometimes wish for the support of a partner, and perhaps if I had one my finances would be less of a worry, but the feeling I most often get looking at perfectly happy relationships is relief.

“The cost in human terms of feeding him, grooming him, humouring him and financing his recreation is way out of proportion to the contribution he makes in return, even if he is a sensitive and attentive lover.”

– Germaine Greer, The Whole Woman

Equal pay for equal work?  How about just getting paid?  Yes, now I am being facetious, but if anything is to change in the experience of work for women, there needs to be a societal shift in the way all work is valued and it can’t be measured in cash.  For all the achievements of feminism made in the last century - and they are enormous, and I am exceedingly grateful for them - we still live in a society of irrational hierarchies and I’m not sure that climbing the ranks is the solution.

Women should have choices.  Affordable and accessible childcare should be a priority.  Longer and paid parental leave should be a priority.  And I am in favour of equity in the workplace and at home.  I am all in favour of women having career goals and financial goals above and beyond the necessities of life, if that is what they want.  I truly am.  I simply can’t find in myself the feminist urge to march in the street for it.

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Mar 08 2010

She’s coming…. she’s coming… !!!!

Tag: Administriviacerebralmum @ 2:37 pm

Okay.  So I’m guessing there are still a few people who have me in their feedreader.  Your hopes were not in vain.  Of course, some of you probably just kept me there so you could get those claws out as soon as I posted again and blast me for being the Queen of All Disappearing Acts.

So get those nail files out because here I am.

I’ll be writing something about International Women’s Day sometime very late tonight.  You’ll probably be in bed.

But don’t expect this return to be without interruptions - I know. You weren’t actually foolish enough to expect that! - because this Wordpress version is hopelessly outdated and I’m not even sure I remember how to fix it.  And I find this theme quite loathsome now so I’ll be fiddling around with the stylesheet sometime in the near future too.

Also, there was so much spam in my comments folder that I just did some wholesale deleting.  If something you wrote, that I never read, got lost in the fallout… Well, you probably don’t remember writing it anyway.

Love you all.  Missed you all.  And I will be dropping by your places for a visit sometime in the near future too.

Until then, here a some repostings of poems which seem somehow appropriate for International Women’s Day…

— Prenuptial –

When the time comes, I will quietly press God’s jaw
And bite at the tendons of his stiffening neck.
I am disoriented.
When the time comes, I will face East.

Bedlam is the home of women with tangled hair
And I have no hair.
This is my home.
Men wear white when they visit me;
They are bridal.
I pick flowers from the fields to earn my keep.
No. That was in another place.
I’ll tell you a story.

When I was a girl, the grass grew.
Oh, I know the grass grows still
- I am not crazy -
But then it grew in the fields I grew in
And I raced to grow faster than it,
Taller than it.
But I fell and it defeated me.

A snake entered the pit of my womb
And planted there a seed
Which grew round and downward.
My woman’s body was not built for movement
So I lay still.
This is the meaning of the story.
The teaching.

When the snake enters,
When his fangs are poised,
Do not interrupt. Lie still.
Talk to the grass for whom you raced and fell.
You belong to the grass.
This is an old, old teaching.

My bridal men stand poised with syringes
While I murmur to you.
I have another story.
When I was a girl I wore a crown.
Now I have no hair and God is coming.

199?

— You Begin –

When your soft fingers
flex against the walls
of my deep cavern,
you begin.
Or is it sooner?

When you first feel
the pulse of my hot
blood in your own veins,
is it then?
Or is it when

I feel him still
beneath me, still
enclosed by flesh,
but still.
Is it then
that you first move?

Almost you.

Or when I run
screaming
to my own mother,
blood on hands,
wanting to swim
with the bloodless girls,
already ashamed
of my blue bra?

Is that you then,
new, impatient?
Or is it when

my own fingers
flex against the wall
of her deep cavern
and further inside
I drum life patterns
into waiting rooms
and you begin.

— The Pitch –

I love men.
I love the stillness of them
Their lack of agitation
When they shake off
Their workaday
Clothes

Their ability to not
Talk, to not repeat
Their thoughts
Over and over again
Their lack
Of doubt.

Men are peaceful.
But there are times
When they need
To think beyond
Their words
Beyond

Other men’s words
Times they need
To see the
Queen trapped
In the corner
Of the chessboard

While they laugh
Albeit humourlessly
At another joke
At the Queen’s
Expense
While she shrivels

Beneath the gaze
And turns to ivory.
Women talk
But men hear
Men’s voices
Like dogs

It’s all
In the pitch,
Bitch.
When they
Are not funny
Why won’t you
Snarl at them?

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Oct 01 2008

Just quickly, what do you choose?

Tag: In a dark wood, wandering...cerebralmum @ 9:48 pm

Just because of some recent discussions I’ve had, I’m thinking about these things…

I choose truth over tact.

I choose independence over companionship.

I choose the hare over the tortoise.

I choose the mind over the body.

I choose ideas over people (whom, to be honest, I often understand - and dissect - as ideas).

I choose voice over silence.

I choose change over peace.

I choose comprehension over empathy.

I choose loss over anger.

I choose intent over action.

I choose loyalty over trust.

I choose the sky.

And winter.

Either path is both right and wrong.

I have never believed that you can have, or be, everything.

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Sep 30 2008

The in-between and an attention span of a gnat…

Tag: Saffron noodlescerebralmum @ 7:11 pm

I thought that it was time I send another “I exist, but…” post.

I’m still in the in-between and looking for an apartment, which has been demoralising so far but I am remaining optimistic. However, as the post title says I do seem to have the attention span of a gnat, so those of you who see me on Facebook while my feed is silent, that is why. Facebook and gnats go well together. :)

Actually, I am being mentally bombarded with ideas of what to write about, but I just can’t seem to sit still. Or I can, but only while doing mindless things, like playing Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix on my new Wii.

Yup, with my newfound lack of poverty I have invested in an entirely luxurious useless piece of technology. And to be honest, I mostly got it so I could use Wii Fit. Mum bought one when she was here and, as limited as it is, it turned out to be exercise I actually do.

And I never exercise.

I have also invested in a fab new camera. This one…

Fujifilm Finepix Z20

















…which absolutely rocks. Caspar picked the colour, but Lightening, if you’re reading, there is definitely one that makes me think of you. :)

I also bought that Eee PC that I wanted for my birthday. Well, not exactly the same one. I got the new 10″, Pearl White, instead of the 7″…

image

















Because every inch makes a difference.

Unfortunately, I can’t make the most of it until I’ve relocated and set up a wireless account. The ISP I’m considering doesn’t service this hellhole locality. Even more unfortunately, I stupidly left it within reach of the boy. Who promptly broke 7 keys off the keyboard. (I wonder if that will be covered under the warranty?)

In other indulgent news, I have been out TWICE since selling the house.

AT NIGHT.

WITHOUT CHILD.

On those outings I discovered that I no longer have the alcohol tolerance I built up in my years of working in bars.

But more about that another day.

Love to all, from your absent friend.

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Sep 01 2008

Monday’s Child - Words

Tag: Saffron noodlescerebralmum @ 6:00 pm

I know that Monday’s Child is usually a photo, but to catch everyone up on Caspar, words are required, not a picture.

He is talking. A lot.

And very well considering.

Now is the time that I am supposed to be taking him to see a speech pathologist (which is another thing on my current to-do list) for an assessment and, because of his cleft palate, speech therapy was something that I expected to be part of our lives for quite some time. Now, I’m not so sure. The way he is going I can’t imagine that he will require anything more than a little monitoring.

To my untrained ears there doesn’t seem to be any evidence of a lisp or a nasal quality - common difficulties with a cleft - or any indication that his language skills have been affected by those first nine months of hearing difficulties before he had his surgery. (Seeing the audiologist for a checkup is another job on my list but he knows there is an aeroplane nearby before I do, so I think his hearing is better than mine.)

The clarity and intelligibility of his speech is better than some older children I know. (Of course, that could be because he’s mine so the speech pathologist gets to give her educated opinion.) His vocabulary is good too, well and truly in the triple figures and increasing every day. That, however, is somewhat sobering because occasionally I talk like Magneto Bold Too writes (I blame working in hospitality - Gordon Ramsey is not an anomaly) and on Thursday, one of those new words was “Fuck”. My friend and I managed not to laugh and I, sarcastically innocently, said, “I have no idea where he picked that up”.

And last week he brought me his Schleich (I love Schleich!) velociraptor and when he handed it to me he said, “Raptosaurus”. I thought that was genius. For him to be unsure of the exact word, but to categorise the figurine correctly and to choose an appropriate word ending…

In all seriousness, the way humans acquire language is a beautiful and amazing thing.

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Aug 31 2008

Where on earth have I been?

Tag: Saffron noodlescerebralmum @ 11:07 pm

On Thursday I officially became a non-homeowner. So now there is no mortgage to pay and no more borrowing money from Peter to pay Paul. And one huge sigh of relief.

I probably could have written about this sooner, before settlement, before the money was there on paper, but things had really been coming down to the knife’s edge and I - for want of a less superstitious phrase - just didn’t want to jinx it.

Now, it’s a crippling stress gone from my life, and things can finally move forward.

I sold the house to Big Sis and her B who - fabulous news! - have a little boy due in November. Cas and I remain here in Big Sis’ house which, when I find an apartment, they will renovate and rent out. In the meantime, with Big Sis gone, there is no more broadband connection, so I’m temporarily reduced to a pre-paid dialup account and won’t be online as much as I would like in order to get all my blogs running as they should.

But I will be back to full strength at some stage in the near future.

I’m still packing boxes although, barring the kitchen, I’m really now just down to the dregs. I have a few debts still to pay off, when the cheque finally clears, and I am applying for passports so that, finances permitting, Cas and I can have a brief holiday in New Zealand and he can finally meet his Grandad (my natural father). It seems like I still have a million things to do so if I sound hesitant rather than euphoric, that is why. But once I’m finally resettled, well, then I will truly feel free.

I did have a celebration though. It just so happened that one of my oldest friends was staying over on that Thursday night because she had training the next day in the city, so we went out for dinner and ate oysters and drank champagne. And then got pulled over by a booze-bus* on the way home (my first time ever) so it’s a good thing the champagne was a glass rather than a bottle!

And the very next morning, I went to the hairdressers’ for the first time in two years. (And that time, it was a present from my Mum.) This was after a month of working out my angst on my hair at home - bleaching, dyeing , hacking - so I now have a chic, shorter do and healthy, shiny hair. (I’ll put up a picture when I can, although I still haven’t even managed a photo of my new glasses from the beginning of the year yet. One of the difficulties of being a single Mum is not having anyone else to hold the camera.)

What else? Uni, you ask? How is that going? Well, it kind of went belly up. With Big Sis in her first trimester at that stage, and with her back problems (she has had spinal surgery and there are limits to what she can do), having her mind Caspar while I went to class became a problem, and then I was ill myself. So I have taken this semester off in order to find somewhere to live - somewhere which doesn’t entail a six hour round trip to get to class - and will be starting over again in the summer.

All in all, things are happening. And things are good. And I’m looking forward to beginning a new chapter very soon. The cage door has been unlocked and, soon, I will be walking out of it.

Love and hugs to all of you who’ve stuck around.

XX

*For non-Aussie readers, a “booze-bus” is what the police use to set up roadside random breath tests to check drivers’ blood alcohol levels.

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Jun 21 2008

Gloriously tired…

Tag: Saffron noodlescerebralmum @ 9:22 pm

image

Soooo… Mum changed her flight schedule and arrived Thursday morning, which entailed a 5am drive to the airport which, living out on the peninsular, is at the opposite end of the earth. But all my work with Caspar, trying to get him excited about Oma coming on an aeroplane, paid off because he went running toward her as she emerged from customs.

After a couple of days catching up, last night I went to bed early and slept late and then we spent the day out visiting friends and family and now I am gloriously tired and not planning on writing very much more than this.

Did I say I had more important, meaning-of-life stuff to talk about?

Er… Not today.

But I do think this constitutes a Smiley Saturday post. Because I’m smiling. :)

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