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Dad is out watering the garden, but all the front windows are open, so he can hear the piano and his wife and two daughters singing. He often hums along to our repertoire, which is a mixture of Anglo-Celtic songs, Australian numbers — and, memorably, 'Lead, Kindly Light', written by the recently canonised St John Henry Newman.
As fires obliterated large swathes of Australia, I was largely oblivious to the news — though tenuously connected to events as I travelled through oven-hot, tinder-dry national parks in Southern Africa. It was only when I reached the airport in Johannesburg that the extent of the catastrophe became apparent to me.
On their own, Eltahawy's words are confronting, yet within the context of her argument, the questions were about flipping the balance of power on its head for a moment. It's not a call to action, but rather a thought exercise. What if men were as scared of violence from women, as women are taught to be of men?
The Victorian Ombudsman Deborah Glass has published a damning report of the use of isolation for children in Victorian justice centres. Those acquainted with the administration of juvenile justice in Australia will find nothing new in the report. Therein lies its scandal.
There was a love that manifested in my house that needed no naming. It transcended adjectives or nouns. We were so playful to the extent we tried our mother's dresses, skirts, blouses. In days when I felt the fullness of my mischievousness, I dressed like my mother or sister and ran out of the house to make people laugh. There was no fuss about it.
This is the influence Christian schools retain under current legislation. Faith-based schools are given the right to maintain teachings around sexuality, but that shouldn't be given higher priority than students' wellbeing. It's why I fell through the gaps. It's why 13 years later I and the public health system are dealing with the consequences.
Wandering out of sorts around the lake, my thoughts backward now there is more past than future, I see a boy and girl on a school day wearing uniforms I recognise from when my son arranged his to resemble the garb of an urchin.
With the global population consisting of 3.5 billion men, it can take time to sort the good guys from the self-appointed 'good guys'. When so many men (but not all) are quick to separate themselves from the Sexist Monsters That Only Constitute One Per Cent Of The Male Species, how can you quickly tell if someone's alright or alt-right?
The women are not veiled, the men don't stop to look at the golden boys kicking footballs on giant screens ... Each one I pass is a person, held here by decree, by a boulder placed across the mouth. If I walk through a temple built by slaves, sending a pittance home to countries too poor for anyone to bother waging war over ... then, who am I?
When Melburnian Courtney Herron was murdered, the topic of male violence started trending. In one of the most incisive comments on what is an all-too-frequent occurrence, Victoria's Police Commissioner Luke Cornelius said it was time for men to start taking responsibility for the violence. Men — not all men, but many — took umbrage.
I moved to the Land of Magic, found it full of mumbo-jumbo. I bounced to the Kingdom of Rhythm, too many ups and downs. I went eagerly to Warm-and-Fuzzy, soon bogged down in treacle. I trekked to the Republic of Religion, it was open only on Sundays.
When refugees write accounts of their lives they usually express gratitude to the nation that has received them. A Child Escapes, in which Francis Deng describes his life from Lost Boy of Sudan to refugee in Kenya to bank employee in Australia, is no exception. Left unsaid, but equally important, is the gift he and other immigrants are to Australia.
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