Hecate

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Articles from Vol. 24, No. 1, May

Banksias
She lived with a man who didn't notice. Didn't notice the orgy of banksias efflorescing like erect penises that her hands had caressed. Didn't notice the swollen hands, bee-stung, that were the result of her tending. Tear-bright eyes, too, went unheeded....
Britain's Last Line of Defence: Miss Moneypenny and the Desperations of Filmic Feminism
I'm a bitch I'm a lover I'm a child I'm a mother I'm a sinner I'm a saint I do not feel ashamed I'm your hell I'm your dream I'm nothing in between You know you wouldn't want it any other way.(1) Meredith Brooks, Bitch Good old Moneypenny. Britain's...
Forms of Resistance: South African Women's Writing during Apartheid
Every household in the fine suburb had several black servants - trusted cooks . . . faithful gardeners . . . a shifting population of pretty young housemaids whose long red nails and pertness not only asserted the indignity of being undiscovered or out-of-work...
For the Children of Detroit
The killing of children rather than the adults of Detroit makes sense. They are smaller which makes the job easier. They are killing the children in New York, London, Sydney, Paris and Toronto. In every city a child is molested by a relative every three...
Going Back
My mother always loved the colour blue. It suited her, and reflected the blue of her eyes. She told me once she hoped I would not 'end up like her,' with nothing to look forward to, nothing made of her life. A life, she felt, that was wasted. I do...
'Keeping Their Secret Safe': Menstrual Etiquette in Australia, 1900-1960
During the early and middle decades of the twentieth century, many Australian women were given little information about menstruation prior to or at menarche, or the first menstruation. However, if they were told nothing else, they were at least informed...
Kevy and Me
When I was twenty, and Kevy was twenty three, I had been an inmate in the mental asylum on and off on many occasions since I was fourteen. By this time, no member of my family wanted to have me around anymore, because of my drunkenness. This meant I...
Less
They stood about uncomfortably. None of them would meet my eye. Mum and Dad were in front of the desk, Dad with a hand on the back of the chair, Mum stooped over her shoulder bag. My husband stood slightly apart, in front of the kindergarten chair I...
Living an Immoral Life - 'Coloured' Women and the Paternalistic State
There are vast populations in northern Australia who refer to themselves as 'coloured.' The inclusive category, 'coloured,' was ubiquitous in official and vernacular vocabularies until Indigenous Australians were released from the paternalistic grip...
Reclaiming a Legacy: The Dialectic of Race, Class, and Gender in Jessie Fauset, Zora Neale Hurston, and Dorothy West
Many significant happenings had those cloisters looked down on, but surely on none more significant than on this group of men and women of African descent, so different in rearing and tradition and yet so similar in purpose. The rod of the common oppressor...
Sempre Diretto & the Art of Getting Lost
'Venice is a place where you must lose yourself.' Robert Ullian and Thomas Worthen In the opening minutes of The Comfort of Strangers,(1) the lens of the camera holds for a tantalisingly long, steady moment on a map. It's been framed, this map, and...
The Abortion
It was 1952. The abortion was one of the most frightening and soul destroying episodes of my life. Not only because of the abortion alone, but because of the two year time span between the abortion and the actual burial of the aborted child. My son...
The Language of Silence
Strains of Mahler permeated the air, the childish, yet slenderly thin fingers waved in time to the music with awkward elegance. A child, stunningly fair, with blazing blue eyes, rocked in ecstatic contemplation of the music. Slowly, slowly, the child...
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