Occupy: Your Mind

A Story by Kilaroysters

Creative Nonfiction: Politics

“And I realise that of the five speakers tonight, I am the only woman up here.”

It was an impeccably delivered line. It was said with no malice and meant to cause no harm, but I felt like I’d been slapped. I was sitting in the higher levels of seating within the Guild Theatre of Union house of my university’s campus at a TEDx Event. TEDx is a sub-group of TED and holds all the core ideas (to give communities, organisations and individuals the opportunity to stimulate dialogue through “ideas worth spreading”) but is at a local level. They can be created anywhere on any topic to speak to peoples that wouldn’t always have access to the real TED talks. It gives voice to those who wouldn’t usually have one. Which is what this whole night’s topic was about: Occupy Melbourne and the occupy movement in general. Giving a voice to people who normally miss out on having their say, despite what democracy tells us. It was about giving a voice to people who don’t have power in society. That’s what I used to stand for.

Over the past six months I’d begun to attend the free public lectures held on university grounds. I’d listened to talks on various political topics such as America and Climate Change and this year I’d signed up, once again, to Oxfam and Vgen (World Vision’s youth group on campus) and inquired about the Wom*ns group but hadn’t signed up for any of the purely political clubs such as PIS (political interest society) or the Labor/ Liberal clubs. I did last year, but I had felt like I had two years ago when I’d joined UNYA (United Nation Youth of Australia); out-dated, lacking in wisdom and out of place. I felt unable to talk, quieted by people who read newspapers every day, the economist every week and trolled through the online websites with the most recent political news. I loved politics, I loved philosophy and I loved a good debate. It seemed most of my knowledge stemmed from history, another love of mine, and religion or TV. My favourite TV shows were Good News Week and The West Wing. My Idols: Jed Barlett, C.J. Cregg, Amy Gardner- I had real idols too: Alexandra Kollontai (a Russian revolutionary who could be said to have sparked the women’s right movement) Aung San Su Kyi and Paul Kagame but most of knowledge and inspiration came from fiction. I was an avid reader, growing up in a broken family as an only child I adventured in literature, but my true focus was fantasy. As I got older I expanded into a more stimulating and philosophical literature such as A Fraction of the Whole and Slaughterhouse 5 but I still didn’t devote my time to the news. I had a subscription to Time magazine but even that wasn’t good enough. That was American and, whilst they had a much more interesting political sphere, Australia was where we lived and what was debated. Even philosophical knowledge wasn’t enough to get me through these clubs because everyone else had that knowledge too and was much more confident to jump in with that same point I was going to make. Politics was a passion of mine; rights of minorities, women, and refugees were something I couldn’t keep to myself, but here I was too scared to speak my mind to people whose arrogance and ego alone filled the room. Attending something that should’ve nurtured my passion scared it right out of the country.

My school was lacking in people who gave a damn about the state of world affairs and the friends I’d made at UNYA were less politically knowledgeable then I. I still advocated and debated politics but there was little or no knowledge from the other end. It was an easy field, one that wasn’t intimidating. My International Studies teacher saw potential in me and encouraged me at every turn I took but when it came to the big forum I still was scared into silence. My only true field of battle was the rise of kitchen jokes. They infuriated me and I made sure my friends, male and female alike, made it known that kitchen jokes were not innocent fun but indicative of a deep subliminal imbalance between the genders, something that is subtle but can be seen in every facet of interaction. Music videos and movies treat women as sex objects. A recent song “Whistle” has a music video where multiple women splash around at the beach pouring water over themselves with camera close ups on their derrieres. Movies introduce the side woman/ love interest in action movies as some ridiculously good looking girl usually bending over or reaching up to the top shelf in short shorts and short, short dresses. A movies general storyline for women is to find their one true love- even in action movies the woman finds a nice match. Either that or they are seeking vengeance for a broken heart. Whether they’re women who are powerful enemies or the heroes of the movie, they’re dressed up in tight leather outfits or skimpy clothes that appeal to humanity’s lustful side. One only needs to compare Batman and Wonderwoman. Batman at least got long sleeves and tights under the underwear he wore on the outside. Wonderwoman got a corset with no neck or sleeves and no tights to speak of. The nutri grain and lynx advertisements added to my infuriation. Nutri grain makes Ironmen- men who can lift up very heavy couches for his sweet mother doing the vacuuming. How nice of him to get off the couch. And Lynx, just one spray and you’ll have flocks of women chasing you down the street boys. People would tell me I was being overly sensitive, that they were just good marketing tools but it isn’t nor was it. These perceptions are transferred into the work place and into our political system. When Gillard came to power, after the initial shock wore off and she started getting back to the issues, no-one knew what the issues where. But we knew what she should and shouldn’t wear. The newspapers didn’t report the issues nor talked about the position she was taking. They talked about her fashion sense and her hairdresser boyfriend. Politics has been reduced to a show of clothes and argumentative nonsense that gets us nowhere and helps very few. And women in politics get the worst of it.

I used to dream of changing that part of society or at least trying to, I dreamt of advocating for that change until it happened. If not for women’s rights then refugees or the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender community, the aboriginals, people suffering from tyranny, oligarchies and poverty- anyone that needed it and that I saw cause in; that I could build a passion around. The world had injustices east, west and north. Burma was a country devastated by a military dictatorship; Taiwan, Tibet and the Uighur’s oppressed independence, America’s health care crisis and constant political deadlock and Zimbabwe’s unmanageable inflation. They all called to me. And I had solutions, or thoughts about solutions, to all. At the very least wanted to be part of an organisation that helped them. Rwanda’s genocide and recovery was a shining beacon of hope that I looked to, it showed that a new leaf could spring from a fire-ravaged land. Rwanda’s new voice was hope. And it became my go-to story. But again, this is now nearly two decades ago that I called upon as inspiration and knowledge. I couldn’t hold up in any political society or spectrum.

So I stopped trying.
And I got slapped.

I’d grown fearful and lax and I’d lost part of myself along the way. It was an abrupt wake-up call that made me feel guilty and shameful that I hadn’t followed through on everything I told myself for my life to consist of. I had told myself that was my purpose. In the months of the occupy movement and Occupy Melbourne I’d thought about the movement. I’d been asked about it. I never joined it. But that’s mainly because I didn’t understand it due to my lack of newspaper reading but also because of the newspapers themselves weren’t reporting what were the Occupy movement was about, they couldn’t understand it themselves. I recognised the end of it though; I recognised the police brutality in shutting down peaceful protests. Arab Spring uprisings- how dare the governments suppress them with force. Peaceful protests in a democratic society... not a squeak of dismay when our pure hearted and perfect leaders shut the movement down with weapons and violence. I’m ashamed now that I wasn’t there next to them. A woman who had no interest in the protests got fired from her job when she tried to take a day off to stop the eviction; because she didn’t want to them to stand alone against a police invasion. So she stood with them, arms locked together, as some were dragged out of their rows by their hair. This woman shamed me. But she also inspired me.

Sitting in the Guild theatre I felt uncomfortable at multiple moments throughout the night. The talks were revelations that provided insight into the Occupy movement and yet reminded me of everything I had suppressed and run away from. I argued through my opinions with friends but I had never stood for them, never had to truly fight for the rights I believed in. I had yet to turn up to a Wom*n’s group discussion, I’d attended one of their FFFFilms (I believe it stands for Free fortnightly feminist films) but really that meant for very little. I felt hypocritical and pale that night whilst my mind was invigorated by the discussion and philosophy behind it. But I couldn’t shake the fact I had done nothing ever to show I believed in activism, in equal opportunity, rights, fairness and justice. I felt diluted to an average Australian or western person- we have a pretty good country, everything is almost fair, why bother with anything more? But our western community wasn’t equal or fair. Women get paid about 30% less than men in any job, they’re unlikely to attain high powered positions such as commissioner or CEO (a mere 35 of the Fortune 1000 companies' CEOs are women)^{^[1]} and women are treated differently under law in multiple issues such as child care, prostitution and taxing. Moving away from women’s issues there is also horrific inequality for people of lower social status when it comes to basic things such as health care and education; also refugees and the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender community suffers from stigma and prejudice that is not okay in a “just society”.

I walked out ashamed and invigorated, a strange combination I’ll admit. I committed myself to, at the very least, a step up back into the world I’d left behind. I didn’t want to go back to the arrogance and egoism of political groups so instead I would become an active member of the Oxfam, Youth Charity Society and Vgen groups. I’ve taken part in fundraisers for MS and the Good Friday Appeal, worked in the Fair Trade festival and sought intern positions with larger organisations. I was successful on one account; and have become a Research Associate for The New Zealand Centre for Human Rights Law, Policy and Practice. It’s a step in the right direction, in working for organisations that make a difference, in getting back to who I was and who I want to be. Advocacy is hard. Holding on to your beliefs and not being shouted down by others is even harder. History shows us that taking the first step to stand up is the first step to successful change and the first step to having a voice.