Education, Work and Catholic Life: Stories of Three Generations of Australian Mothers and Daughters [1st ed.] 978-981-13-8988-7;978-981-13-8989-4

Table of contents :
Front Matter ....Pages i-xiv
Front Matter ....Pages 1-1
Introduction (Anne Keary)....Pages 3-21
Catholic Mothers and Daughters: A Conversational Tale of Two Families (Anne Keary, Ronnie Egan)....Pages 23-37
My Maternal Genealogy: Remembering and Looking Back (Anne Keary)....Pages 39-56
Girls and Catholic Education (Anne Keary, Kirsten Hutchison)....Pages 57-72
Front Matter ....Pages 73-73
Education and Training, Career Aspirations: ‘That’s What I Remember’ (Lucas Walsh, Anne Keary)....Pages 75-94
Career, Uncertainty and Working Life: ‘Being Classified as Temporary’ (Lucas Walsh, Anne Keary)....Pages 95-111
Life After Study and Training: ‘Building Something’ (Lucas Walsh, Anne Keary)....Pages 113-134
Front Matter ....Pages 135-135
Mobility, Travel and Work: ‘I’d Like to Live Overseas Again’ (Anne Keary, Lucas Walsh)....Pages 137-150
Hopes and Dreams: Capturing What Is Not Yet There (Anne Keary, Julie Faulkner)....Pages 151-162
Lies, Secrets and Silences: ‘That was a Disappointment’ (Anne Keary)....Pages 163-177
Stories that Memorabilia Tell in Mother–Daughter Exchanges (Anne Keary, Julie Faulkner)....Pages 179-199
Conclusion: A Coming of Age with Familiar Friends (Anne Keary)....Pages 201-207
Back Matter ....Pages 209-248

Citation preview

Anne Keary

Education, Work and Catholic Life Stories of Three Generations of Australian Mothers and Daughters

Education, Work and Catholic Life

Anne Keary

Education, Work and Catholic Life Stories of Three Generations of Australian Mothers and Daughters

123

Anne Keary Faculty of Education Monash University Clayton, VIC, Australia

ISBN 978-981-13-8988-7 ISBN 978-981-13-8989-4 https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-8989-4

(eBook)

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. The registered company address is: 152 Beach Road, #21-01/04 Gateway East, Singapore 189721, Singapore

This book is dedicated to my grandmother Mary, mother Marie, Aunt Inez and niece Melissa who are no longer with us but will always remain in our memories. Anne Keary

Three generations: Anne’s grandmother Mary, mother Marie and older sister Bernadette

Foreword

As I write this piece, the Catholic church is in crisis—it is confronted with its own historical culpability in sexual exploitation and criminal violence against multiple generations of its own youth and children, accusations of systematic cover-ups of these and other activities undertaken by a priesthood and leadership that range from economic corruption to longstanding discrimination against women. The church is facing scepticism from right wing, nationalist governments and liberal, social democratic governments and political parties alike; it is held in suspicion by autocratic states who see it as competing for moral authority and social control. It has its own internal fractures between liberal and conservative factions, and faces increasing pressure from growing Pentecostal and evangelical movements. But when we refer to the ‘church’ as in crisis, we refer to an institution, a fully operational corporate entity, supported by government regulation and, in many countries, taxation exemptions and subsidies. The church is a de facto nation state with its own laws and regulatory regimes, historical alliances and enemies, foreign policies and policing, disciplines and punishments. It is helpful to begin from Max Weber’s sociological description of institutions as bureaucracies, functioning systems that mediate, govern and shape social relations, identities, life pathways and labour. Education, Work and Catholic Life is about Australian Catholic women’s lives, their educational and generational experiences, their beliefs, aspirations and life pathways and how these have been shaped in relation to Catholic education, childhood and—indeed, a church that now finds itself in crisis. Here the focus is on religious belief and spirituality as a complex and dynamic amalgam of cultural practices—tied up closely with everyday educational, child-rearing exchanges and beliefs that are produced and reproduced, shaped and reshaped by successive generations of women raised and educated as Catholics. Particularly in the current context, this fusion of memory and imagination perhaps tells us more about the lived challenges and everyday realities of religion and spirituality, education and childhood, work and profession than any formal ethnographic, sociological or historical case of schooling or the church might. For this genealogy of Catholic women’s lives, Anne Keary and her colleagues remind us, is both vertical and horizontal in its scope. Several of these vii

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Foreword

stories over a century of Australian Catholic lives and, then, proceed to move laterally across intersecting families, friendships and place. Anne Keary’s work presented here began several decades ago—first as a feminist, phenomenological account of lived, multigenerational relations within and across her family around growing up Catholic in Australia, around Catholic schooling and childhood. Anne’s doctoral thesis, written in North Queensland while she was working in Indigenous community education, was a powerful, prototypical feminist autobiographical case study. It was written in an era where matters of gendered standpoint, of embodied and autobiographical history and life experience, were just emerging in social sciences and research and doctoral studies. It was then and remains a groundbreaking, brave, important account of the intergenerational exchange of gendered identity and mother/daughter relations, spirituality and cultural practices. I strongly recommend it for all readers, especially those working through that (often subliminal) autobiographical relationship between their scholarship and their own lives. Here, several decades later—Anne has joined with her Melbourne lifelong friends and family, and her research collaborators to extend that dialogue and exchange across time and place, across multiple generations and families. The result is a truly multi-voiced, living dialogue—of women’s stories still in formation and exchange—accounts of how these women’s lives, beliefs and spirituality, relations with mothers, grandmothers, daughters and grandchildren, aunties and nieces continue to weave a rich multigenerational tale and account of spirituality lost and gained, of life continuity and disruption, of abuse and neglect, of educational achievement and frustration, of work and profession and career, and often, of a feminist ethics of care. As it speaks here, this dialogue is a model of healing, love and care through memory work. I grew up as part of a small Lutheran, post-war German immigrant community in Western Canada—like most, never fully aware in my own agnostic, adult common sense about how formative and significant that childhood might come to be. As part of a post-war generation of New Canadians, our focus was on reinvention of the self in every way—through social movements, through feminism and civil rights moments, through an ecumenical spirituality that readily embraced and melded the godly and the flaky, secular and non-secular, the straight and unstraight, and found value in all kinds of worldly good works. How were any of us to know that this was, indeed, part of a unique generational moment, moving past disastrous world war and mass migrations, and leading to a climactic rise and decline of that generative and volatile relationship between capitalism and Protestantism that Weber himself described during his early twentieth-century sojourns to the American Midwest. So, that my first published book was on Luther, the Reformation and literacy should have come as neither a surprise nor autobiographical anomaly to me. But it did. Only to be followed by writings on feminism, media and public pedagogies. When I met Anne Keary in the 1990s and began to hear and read her stories of Melbourne childhood, schooling and church—I knew little of the history of Irish Catholics in Australia. Unlike the Irish diaspora in the Eastern United States or

Foreword

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Canada—the Australian Irish Catholic diaspora was defined by the British penal colony—with the forced transmigration of a economically, culturally and politically marginalised community to what, for many, became a multigenerational history of division and exclusion. Education, Work and Catholic Life is a further contribution to this history. And it is important to reconnoitre the Catholic church once again as a historically colonising institution—with Indigenous Australians subjected to forced family separation, residential schooling, indentured labour, religious indoctrination as part of a larger historical programme of genocide and linguisticide. So we can place these women’s stories, these histories, and these accounts against that concomitant history—and the history of a post-war Australia where White feminism has had a profound effect in reshaping everyday life and labour, governance, institutions and families over the past four decades. We can reconsider these stories as set against a narrative backdrop of a Catholic church in transition and crisis, from Vatican II to the current situation—of an Australian Catholic culture still coming to grips with its own unique and traumatic history, and of the resilience and power of these Australian women’s culture, generational continuities and exchanges, and, indeed, feminism in dynamic action. What I take away from these stories is an abiding reassurance about the value and power of generational exchange—a sense that no matter what happens to these institutions that we call religions—there is a spiritual, emotional and political momentum that resides in women’s culture, in the relationships between women as friends, colleagues, partners, mothers, aunties, nieces, daughters and granddaughters. It is these that matter and shape everyday lives, memories and futures—more than any priesthood, patriarchy or bureaucracy. Brisbane, Australia April 2019

Carmen Luke

Acknowledgements

I have received support and encouragement from many people throughout the writing of this book. In particular, I wish to thank my mother, aunty, sisters, nieces and cousins for participating in the study and playing such a wonderful, loving role in my maternal genealogy. I thank them for always being in the background, showing interest and offering emotional support. I thank my school-friends and their mothers for participating in the study. The mother–daughter interviews were memorable moments and took me back to the familiarity of my growing-up years. I thank these women and my family for generously for sharing stories of memorabilia passed among mothers and daughters and providing access to photographs. It has been a fantastic journey writing this book with four colleagues. I have treasured our conversations and their enthusiasm for the project. Ronnie has been with me on this lifelong journey. Lucas, Kirsten and Julie, as outsiders to the research field engaged with the project in a questioning but respectful way. I thank them for providing continual support for the writing of this book. I wish to thank Prof. Carmen Luke who supervised the original 1990s study which took the form of a Ph.D. thesis. Carmen was always there to challenge and extend my ideas and thoughts. She diligently read draft after draft as I passed through various stages of the writing process. I thank her for writing the foreword to this book. I was awarded a Queensland University post-graduate scholarship in 1996. This scholarship enabled me to complete my Ph.D. and experience the intellectual stimulation and rigour of an academic community. The second phase of the study received financial support from the Faculty of Education, Monash University. My partner Gunther and my extended family and friends have also provided support in many forms; reading drafts, making cups of tea, conversations over a glass of wine and just always being there. My Ph.D. thesis was written in far north Queensland at Mission Beach, with much of the writing taking place on my friend Sandra’s veranda which looks across to Mt Bartle Frere.

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Acknowledgements

I thank Star of the Sea College, Gardenvale for providing the co-authors access to, what Ronnie and I knew as the Parlour Room, to hold conversations and a writing retreat. My gratitude is extended to Pennie White for formatting the manuscript and providing valuable advice. I am also appreciative of the support I received from Springer Publishers especially Nick Melchior who understood the essence of the project from the beginning. The manuscript of this book although largely written in the bayside area of Melbourne where I grew up and at Waratah Bay in South Gippsland, Victoria also travelled with me to many destinations including Haifa and Jerusalem, Israel; Lucca and Rome, Italy and in its final stages to Prague in the Czech Republic. I would like to thank the three anonymous reviewers who have helped to make the analysis stronger through their thoughtful comments and feedback. Finally, I thank all those women whose dialogue and music I have listened to, whose literature I have read, and whose works of art, craftwork and photography I have viewed. By learning of other women’s efforts to disrupt and disentangle traditionally prescribed female roles, I began to question, seek explanations and further my understanding of my own maternal story.

Contents

Part I

Beginnings

1

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anne Keary

2

Catholic Mothers and Daughters: A Conversational Tale of Two Families . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anne Keary and Ronnie Egan

3

23

3

My Maternal Genealogy: Remembering and Looking Back . . . . . . Anne Keary

39

4

Girls and Catholic Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anne Keary and Kirsten Hutchison

57

Part II 5

6

7

Education and Training, Career Aspirations: ‘That’s What I Remember’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lucas Walsh and Anne Keary

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Career, Uncertainty and Working Life: ‘Being Classified as Temporary’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lucas Walsh and Anne Keary

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Life After Study and Training: ‘Building Something’ . . . . . . . . . . . 113 Lucas Walsh and Anne Keary

Part III 8

Fluid Transitions: Continuity and Change in Education, Training and Work

A Woman’s Life Reflected

Mobility, Travel and Work: ‘I’d Like to Live Overseas Again’ . . . 137 Anne Keary and Lucas Walsh

xiii

xiv

9

Contents

Hopes and Dreams: Capturing What Is Not Yet There . . . . . . . . . 151 Anne Keary and Julie Faulkner

10 Lies, Secrets and Silences: ‘That was a Disappointment’ . . . . . . . . 163 Anne Keary 11 Stories that Memorabilia Tell in Mother–Daughter Exchanges . . . . 179 Anne Keary and Julie Faulkner 12 Conclusion: A Coming of Age with Familiar Friends . . . . . . . . . . . 201 Anne Keary Epilogue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209 Appendix A: The Cast . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211 Appendix B: Methodology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245

Part I

Beginnings

Chapter 1

Introduction Anne Keary

Abstract The book documents the narratives of 13 maternal genealogies that span the early twentieth to early twenty-first centuries. Catholic education and upbringing are a focus of the study—the second generation attended Catholic girls secondary colleges during the 1960s and 70s. The uniqueness of this study is its focus on the conversations of three generations of Australian Anglo-European mothers and daughters. Key themes of education, work and life transitions are introduced as they intersect with generational change and continuity, gender and religion. Extended longitudinal interviews provided a situated approach to locating the everyday practices of these three generations of Australian women. Analysis of interviews worked to construct representations of the mother–daughter relationship that sit inside and outside dominant ideologies and belief systems apparent in their histories particularly that of Catholicism. Recorded participant responses constitute a form of oral storytelling, which illuminate the lived fabric of everyday life and provide a rich portrayal of how these women view themselves and their relationships as mothers and daughters. This chapter introduces the study and the co-authors who grappled with the notion of insider–outsider positioning when working with the interview data.

The Study This study originated as a Ph.D. thesis awarded in 1997. The thesis set out to examine the Catholic mother–daughter relationship and its socio-historical construction within the discourse and pedagogy of Catholicism. It was a personal as well as theoretical and political journey. Specifically, a matrilineal genealogy was undertaken to explore the prevalent representations of the mother–daughter relationship within my own, as well as my school-friends’ maternal histories. The search not only deconstructed dominant Catholic constructions and images of the mother–daughter relationship but, also uncovered traces of maternal connections and relations that had been hidden by, and within, patriarchal discourses; particularly that of Catholicism. © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. Keary, Education, Work and Catholic Life, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-8989-4_1

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Introduction

The second phase of the research took place from 2016 to 2018; 20 years after the initial phase. This phase focused on the third generation of young women; the grand/daughters of the women who had participated in the 1990s study. Through a qualitative longitudinal lens, it explores how this third generation has responded to socio-economic, cultural, and religious shifts in contemporary times, and the negotiation of resilience for study, employment, and professional, peer and familial relationships. A facet of the second phase of the study was the revisiting of the original research participants. This involved an investigation of the temporal aspects of their lives. Weeks (2007) contends that knowing about the past assists us to hold ‘the present to account, denaturalizing and relativizing it, demonstrating that it is a historical creation, suggesting its contingency’ (p. 3). By revisiting the memories and experiences of the first and second generation of women the notion of change and continuity is examined as it is situated within a socio-historical, cultural and religious context. Past and present stories were narrated that tied together personal and political undercurrents against a religious backdrop that marked familial practices, routines and relationships. The intergenerational conversations, that were grounded by reminiscences and viewpoints put on show the way in which grandmothers, mothers and daughters contour each other’s subjectivity.

Qualitative Research Qualitative research is a complex and intricate process going back and forth between raw and sensitive data and the conceptual understandings that underpin and interpret it. This study is not about ‘what is really going on’. Extricating prospective and retrospective reflections over a period of 20 years is a means of exploring contingency. A reflexive and comparative investigation is possible that acknowledges that the interpretations, for both the interviewer and the interviewee, were incremental and recursive. There are numerous tales to narrate, and McLeod (2003) suggests that this is embellished in longitudinal studies: ‘To say that there are “multiple stories” might appear to be a kind of lazy postmodernism, but this is not a call for “anything goes” or for the reiteration of indeterminacy’ (p. 209). Instead, each story requires working in accordance with its ‘evidence’, to illuminate how one account is feasible, how it could perhaps be more substantial than another. This interpretation occurs across and against key explanatory frames, and instead of synthesising, the intent is to scrutinise using idiosyncratic perspectives and silences to gain a glimpse of the intricacy of subjectivity from a longitudinal and historical viewpoint (McLeod, 2003). A number of strands of researching social change are woven together in this study that emerge from a range of methods including feminist scholarship, cultural studies, sociology, history and psychoanalytic traditions. Both phases of the research were grounded by a feminist stance because the research is for and about girls and women. Hirsch and Smith (2002) contend that ‘feminist scholarship has

Qualitative Research

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been driven by the desire to redefine culture from the perspective of women through the retrieval and inclusion of women’s work, stories and artefacts’ (p. 30). This is not to say that feminist scholarship can be summarised in a tidy way or drawn together with a common thread. This kind of scholarship extends flexibly in numerous irregular ways simultaneously (Mosmann & Rademaker, 2015). Feminism has been fascinated for a long time with recollecting the ‘culture of our mothers’ and recapping stories of their lives. Since the 1970s, there has been an upsurge in women’s life-writing and memoir; ‘personal memories of mothers have taken on a public or collective significance’ (Stephens, 2005, p. 1). Mothers have been politicised and convolutedly tied up with ‘issues of power and hegemony’ (Hirsch & Smith, 2002, p. 6). Snitow and DuPleiss (1998) describe feminism itself as a ‘mother who did not give enough’ (p. 20). Stephens argues that the ‘nurturing’ mother has been overlooked in feminist recollections and that this is of ‘profound cultural significance’ (p. 1). Motherhood represents the amalgamation of the social and the individual in a public–private way. There are multiple ways of interpreting and understanding maternal memories and an analysis of the mother–daughter relationship offers just one perspective. Religious studies have also been impacted on by feminist scholarship in multiple and plural ways. In 1981, Ruether and Keller suggested that the aim of feminism in religious studies is twofold. The first involves charting the patriarchal bias in traditional religion and exposing the historical male bias against women in the scriptures (see Ruether, 1974; Daly, 1968). This movement highlighted the marginalisation and exclusion of women in the Christian tradition and the impact this had consciously, and unconsciously, on the symbolic creation of Christian theology. The second task of feminist studies in religion, they contend, is to locate an alternative Christian chronology and heritage which embraces the inclusion of women. An increasing diversity of literature is available that examines the association between feminism and religion (see Journals ‘Feminist Theology’ and ‘Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion’). The first phase of this research took up this twofold approach. Both phases of the research were open-ended and intentional and lent themselves to a dynamic and fluid process. A multi-methodological was employed that aimed to disrupt the linear and logocentric traditional academic genre. Semi-structured interviews, photographs, memorabilia, and cultural artefacts such as school magazines, letters and objects passed between mothers and daughters constituted the data for analysis. The research tells partial stories and histories which express attitudes, biases, nuances and personal viewpoints. Following the conceptual path of French feminist and psychoanalyst Luce Irigaray, the research traces women’ s meanings and understandings of their own genealogies which can be located in the maternal as a site of origin. Irigaray (1993) contends that daughters need to reassert themselves within the genealogy of woman. As daughters, we need to retrace the female family tree and position ourselves within the ancestry of our mothers and maternal grandmothers and great-grandmothers before their names are lost and forgotten. The rich and densely interwoven fabric of women’s history requires highlighting and remembering so

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Introduction

that we can discover who we are as ‘woman’, as ‘mother’ and as ‘daughter’. We need to share stories of our legacy so that we have an inheritance which can be passed on to future generations of women. Women need a vocabulary of images, words, and metaphors with which to speak themselves. Throughout this research, as I conversed with my mother and the mothers and daughters interviewed, maternal histories were uncovered, spoken about and problematised. Not all the girls and women represented in this study see themselves as feminist and among those who do there exists a range of ways of understanding ‘feminism’ as a movement, as a scholarship, as a politics. I acknowledge that I am taking the interviewees’ voices and framing their dialogue within a feminist framework. That is, I shape the reading and representation of interviews and other sourced material relating to women’s lives in fragmentary ways (Blake, 2015). In addition, the writing is in an academic style and the research participants may or may not understand its theoretical undertone. I write a story for, and about women yet I foresee that it will be critiqued from many angles by the women whose voices are represented. Some might read this book in disbelief, others with a sense of relief but I cannot, and do not wish to control other women’s interpretations and appraisals. See Appendix B for further discussion of methodology.

Memory: Fiction and/or Oral History The book partially unravels connections between memory and the stories told about individual histories through a feminist autobiographical lens. This approach acknowledges that women’s insights into their experiences, as mothers and daughters, are critical to social analysis. These memories come into being in the following ways: The first has to do with the way memory shapes the stories we tell, in the present, about the past especially stories about our own lives. The second has to do with what it is that makes us remember: the prompts, the pretexts, of memory; the reminders of the past that remain in the present (Kuhn, 1995, p. 3).

An important prompt for these memories was the grand/mother–grand/daughter exchanges which occurred as part of the research process. These interviews provided an avenue for women of all ages to discuss their memories, experiences and reflections on Catholic schooling in terms of the past, the present and future. Family photographs and the memories that they encapsulate are drawn on to re/present aspects of the past. Kuhn (1995) speaks of memory as ‘a position or point of view in the current moment’ (p. 128). Memory uncaps material for it to be examined, elucidated, scrutinised so as to gain a better understanding and search for possibilities. ‘It involves staging of memory; it takes an enquiring attitude towards the past and its (re) construction through memory’ (p. 157). Gender and religion mark this group of Australian Anglo-European middle-class girls and women intergenerationally in particular ways and the critical gaze of

Memory: Fiction and/or Oral History

7

feminism provides an avenue for locating cultural memory in a specific context. Hirsch and Smith (2002) contend that ‘gender is an inescapable dimension of differential power relations, and cultural memory is always about the distribution of and contested claims to power’ (p. 6). What the women chose to talk about, remember and, at times, forget or not disclose is enmeshed in issues of power and gender. Silence prevailed in differing shades and hues in the women’s interviews. Memories that surfaced in one interview did not in another, or perhaps were differently articulated by different actors across the different interview phases. Passerini (2003) contends, ‘silence can nourish a story and establish a communication to be patiently saved in periods of darkness until it is able to come to light in a new and enriched form’ (p. 238). We hope that through the telling and analysis of an array of stories enriched renditions of memory as it is contained by silences come to light for the reader of the book. Women through their memories interpret their lives in slightly different ways at different points of time. We as researchers have a viewing window from which to scrutinise educational and religious politics from the 1920s onwards. The participants had the opportunity to view their histories in social, cultural and religious and make connections to the lives of their grand/mothers and daughters. Throughout the book, case histories tell partial contextualised stories of the Catholic mother–daughter relationship. These case histories were chosen as they epitomise a sensibility associated with the themes explored. Kuhn (1995) writes that case history as: an image, images, or memories are at the heart of a radiating web of associations, reflections and interpretations. But if the memories are one individual’s, their associations extend far beyond the personal. They spread into an extended network of meanings that bring together the personal with the familial, the cultural, the economic, the social and the historical. Memory work makes it possible to explore connections between ‘public’ historical events, structures of feelings, family dramas, relations of class, national identity and gender and ‘personal memory’ (p. 4).

The case histories are about stories that unfold across the different phases of interviews and show ‘how prospective research can confound analytic closure … [and] the accumulation of narratives of self may provide a route to move beyond the life as told to gain insight into the life as lived as well as other possible unlived lives that fall away’ (Holland & Thomson, 2009, p. 453). Individual auto/biographies are situated within wider socio-historical and religious processes. These case histories show the challenges of building stable fixed interpretations of qualitative longitudinal data.

Catholicism A range of belief systems are represented in this study with Catholicism historically drawing the three generations of women together. Religious identity was important to many of the women and central to their sense of community at different points of

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Introduction

time. Across the three generations some women associated with organised religions such as the Catholic church, while others viewed religious identification as social identity rather than religious affiliation and some women described themselves as non-believers. Some women endorsed Catholicism as an identity marker but their belief in God and their association with the Catholic church as an institution, at times, remained separate. Beckford (2003) taking a sociological view argues that groups and societies explain religion and spirituality in different ways and the process of defining it gives critical pointers to the role religion and the religious play in society. The topic of religion, faith and spirituality formed the backdrop to this study and arose in interviews around identity, family, community, schooling, and relationships. Religion was ascribed to most of Generation 1, and to all of Generation 2 through their Catholic schooling and at different levels in the home. The notion of belonging to the Catholic church swayed for many throughout their lifetime. Tensions in recent times have increased with the extent of the sexual abuse by Catholic clergy being made public knowledge. This is discussed in Chap. 9. Vatican II occurred when Generation 2 were attending Catholic schools. It was a significant transformative moment in the Catholic church’s history encompassing the constitution, decrees and pronouncements brought down by the Vatican council between 1962 and 1965. The principles fostered reform in the Church’s institutions and teachings so as to align them to more contemporary societal circumstances. For some Generation 1 women, it presented challenges in that their Catholic ways did not match with how their daughters were being educated at Catholic schools. My mother in 1994 remarked when discussing Vatican II: I got to the stage where I would talk about God and the aspirations and all the other things that went with the Catholic faith in a lovely Irish way and that was all boohooed by the younger people. They didn’t go for that at all. We were square (Interview 1994).

Within this era of dramatic cultural change within the Catholic church, Generation 1 mothers were raising their daughters in a religious way that was taking on different forms and pedagogies at the Catholic educational level. Most of the first generation of women were raised Catholic, but two women converted to Catholicism when they married. Peg (Generation 1) shared her story: I was an Anglican, I was a very strict Anglican too. Protestants don’t really worry terribly much about the church, but I went every week, every Sunday sometimes twice, it was quite a big part of my life. It really took I suppose nearly three years to decide that I’d marry my husband. I knew that I would never marry a person that I didn’t share some religion with because it was a big part of my life. I had instructions from a wonderful priest when I did decide that I would accept. I did a lot of research into it, I read, it wasn’t done lightly. I had support from my mother who didn’t quite understand it, but I had no big obstacles in my way. I’m pleased I did because I think marriage has enough…, I think that having one religion is one hurdle you don’t have to worry about. So that was a happy time and I’ve never regretted that after years of marriage (Interview 1995).

Catholicism

9

Meg (Generation 1) commented on how important Catholicism was to her: Having been brought up a Catholic all my life, I can’t possibly understand how I could give it away. I feel I couldn’t live without it, it’s that important to me… I think the older you get and the more problems that you get your religion is all that keeps you going at times. When things are very bad and everybody has bad times, no matter how lucky they are in life. If I didn’t have my religion to turn to… I wouldn’t be able to carry on. It means everything to me (Interview 1995).

Religious identification was strongest amongst the older generation of women but similarly with the younger generations took on a range of everyday practices. Audrey in 2016, after reading the transcript of her 1995 interview commented, ‘I still probably feel the same way in terms of spirituality, in terms of religion. I think the culture around us has changed though; it keeps moving, it’s dynamic’ (Interview 2016). Audrey’s daughter, Andrea (Generation 2) saw religion differently to her mother: I don’t pray to a god. Do I know if there is one out there, I don’t know and that’s okay? But I believe in people and I guess that’s my spirituality. I believe in the difference people can make in each other’s lives and I believe that when people die, they live on in you and they leave something of themselves in you. So, in that way even when you die there is still a part of you that is in the people that loved you. But in terms of the church I wouldn’t go to church unless it’s for an occasion, for a wedding or something. Now, I quite like the architecture and if I went it would just be for looking around. But no, I don’t follow, I wouldn’t call myself religious. I wouldn’t say I’m an atheist either because I’m not sure what is out there (Interview 2016).

How the women spoke of the influence of Catholicism on their religious association varied from it being part of the make-up of who they were to one of total rejection of its tenets. Sometimes the rejection was aimed at the Catholic church as an institution. Pam (Generation 2) angrily stated in 1995, ‘I hate the Catholic church, I hate them with a vehemence’. Her mother Nadia responded, ‘I know you do, you’re very bitter’. Pam retorted, ‘I resent them… I am not tolerant of the Catholic church, they twisted my life’. In her 2016 interview with her sister Cilla, Pam further explained how she felt towards the Catholic church: I think Catholicism has a lot to answer for, and you know I think that when I grew up— until I gave it up or decided I didn’t want to be part of it anymore—it was a really confronting sort of time. Because when I started to go to church as a little kid, it was still in Latin, and then it changed to where they spoke English, and you could actually understand what they were talking about. But the string of Catholic priests in the western suburbs really left a lot to be desired. They were priests who preached the hellfire and brimstone and you’d go to hell if you didn’t go to confession every week, and it was a culture of fear. I think I resent that. I think that it made me a scared little child in terms of my religion, and I don’t think any religion—whether it’s Catholic or Islam or Buddhism should make the people it embraces scared…I’m not angry, I just think that it was a sad state of affairs, and it probably affected my outlook on religion full stop (Interview 2016).

Despite strong feelings of resentment Pam’s attitude to her spiritual identity changed mid-life when she taught in a remote Aboriginal context. I don’t think I could really call myself spiritual, but I’ve gone from being an absolute staunch atheist to believing in the power of your own and collective spirit, or essence, or something like that. Not quite sure what it is, but you know living up on the Aboriginal

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Lands, that really sort of changed my mind about things, when I could actually see that people’s belonging to the country, and the spirit in the country—that really affected me. So that sort of has changed my thinking about I won’t call it religion, I’ll call it our place in the world (Interview 2016).

Debra (Generation 3), Pam’s niece who was in her late 20s at the time of the interview, was still exploring what spirituality meant to her: I don’t have a certain religion that’s good or bad or anything. At this stage I have no idea what I want to believe or not. There’re so many different religions out there, what is real, what is not? Is there a true God? Is there many Gods? I think it’s what you want to believe. It’s like okay so people believe in crystals and other people are like this is just mumbo jumbo but it’s if you believe in something so much then it actually helps you. This crystal is for this, this crystal is for that and people believe in it. Cool. That’s their thing. It’s like if you’re sick ‘oh here take this drug and then someone has the placebo’. You think you still have it and people get better from that placebo. It’s a placebo effect (Interview 2016).

Debra went onto comment on the hope and sense of community, church can bring to people including her grandmother Nadia, ‘She [Nadia] likes to go to church still, go to mass. I think it just brings hope to people…It’s a little community’ (Interview 2016). Sue (Generation 2), like Pam, commented on the negative impact being raised Catholic had on her sense of self: I think the Catholic church has been a burden… that I’ve had to overcome to see a more positive side of it. I think it restrained, encouraged guilt in me, I don’t think it encouraged an open relationship between parents and their children. It was one of subject and master… I think the Catholic church set up a very negative framework for my mother-daughter relationship (Interview 1995).

In spite of the Catholic church being burdensome, Sue in conversation with her mother Mona and sister Ronnie spoke of the importance of Gospel values in her life. Well, it would shock Mum, but I have a really strong faith, I see it as sort of separate from the church., I feel really close to God, but I find lots of the church really anathema to me. I sometimes have to teach religion and I find teaching its morality very easy, Gospel values I find really easy to teach but I have great difficulty supporting a lot of the ritual of the church. I find the underlying message of the church very valuable and important in my life (Interview 2015).

Felicity (Generation 3), Sue’s daughter, talked of the values she gained from her Catholic schooling. She sees herself as a spiritual person, but this spirituality is not centred on organised religion. Yes, definitely spirituality is [important in my life] …but whether or not it’s an organised religion that’s important, perhaps not. I think I would consider myself to be quite a spiritual person, and I’ve got strong values about certain things, particularly about the environment and animals. I certainly think that the empathy that Jane [my sister] and I have for the world around us, is a product of the fact that we went to school in an environment that espoused those values, and you might not necessarily get those things in a non-religious school (Interview 2015).

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Sally (Generation 2) spoke of how her family in the 1960s were ‘lay Catholics’. Lay Catholics are usually defined as the ordinary members of the church who do not promise their life to a religious order or congregation. Sally explained the idea of ‘laity’ in a slightly different way positioning her family on ‘the outer’ realms of practicing Catholics. We were never forced to go to Mass, and I remember thinking there were Catholic families and other Catholic families. We were another Catholic family. And we were never forced to go to mass and grace wasn’t strongly, said, at Christmas time only. We were lay Catholics weren’t we, the outer, we didn’t say the rosary at home (Interview 1995).

Sally’s daughters viewed religion in distinct ways. Her eldest daughter Katelyn in 2016 noted that ‘[Catholicism] probably doesn’t fit in my life’. Whereas her two younger twin sisters talked about the act of prayer being important in their lives but not the church as an institution. Hannah summed up her feelings about being a Catholic as ‘I’m not a very good Catholic’. Hannah: I still pray every night before I go to bed, but you would never see me go to church… not because I don’t believe, but more so I didn’t find it that interesting. Pretty much I found it a bit boring and I Sarah: It was. I only went because it made me feel better about going. Like I like the thought that there is Hannah: There’s someone up there. Sarah: Someone up there that’s going to make things okay. And I don’t really follow what the church thinks Hannah: No. Sarah: - faith and all of that sort of stuff but I Hannah: I mean there’s a few things I don’t so much agree with, but then I like to think that there actually is someone up there and we all go up there. Sarah: I pray every night thinking that that will cover me – well not me but my family and – sorry, not just me but obviously I don’t just pray for myself but thinking that that [prayer] will protect – because that’s out of my control. I can’t protect my family from you know sickness and tragedy and all that sort of stuff but if Hannah: Like when someone asks if you’re Catholic…I say I’m not a very good Catholic (Interview 2016).

In relation to bringing up children with religion, Cath (Generation 2) in 1995 explained the thinking behind the choices she made: Religion for me is not such an important thing. We decided that we would have our children baptised, but religion is not particularly important to me. I’m not a practicing Catholic. We want to give our children some experience of religion because we want them to understand that there is a spiritual aspect to life. And because I suppose it helps, not to explain but it gives a language to talk about some of the dilemmas of life. And whether or not the answers that religion has are satisfying I think they are stepping stones along the way to finding some answers that you may be happy with. Or they might work for us sometime in our life. Maybe at some earlier time or maybe some later time (Interview 1995).

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Anna (Generation 3), Cath’s daughter, noted that religion is not important to her ‘but it used to be’. She explained Mum and dad wanted to send us to religious schools, so that we had that exposure and then after that it was going to be up to us, whether we followed that through. I liked that thinking. As soon as it was my choice, I dropped religion, I’ve never really connected with it (Interview 2016).

When asked about her paid work at a church, Anna suggested that there are different types of faith: It is sort of funny. I was supposed to be filling in as an admin assistant for a couple of months, and then I’ve just stayed on. It’s quite funny actually, everyone in the office is not very religious at all, even the minister, he’s got faith, but it’s a different sort of faith (Interview 2016).

Intergenerationally, there was a decline in association with organised religion, yet a sense of spirituality was apparent in the lives and relationships of many of the women in this study. The auto/biographical stories throughout this book will provide further insight and appreciation for the fluid ways in which the women within, and across the generations, interweave spirituality and identity at various stages in their lives and in their relationships as mothers and daughters.

Authors: Insider/Outsider Perspective Like Cooper and Rogers (2015) in their study on mothering, the co-authors of this book grappled with notions of ‘insider’ and ‘outsider’ positions within the research process. We asked questions about how candid, ethical and considerate we can really be in locating the self within the research process as participant-observers (Anne and Ronnie) and as outsider co-authors (Lucas, Kirsten and Julie). As insiders, we have familiarity with the data and research context and process, whereas the outsider c-authors gained insight through my insider positioning. Dilemmas of choice arose as aspects of the interview data was chosen or left out in the process of writing up the interview data. That is, the shift from the research participants voices to the authors’ interpretations involved making decisions about what interview data to include and exclude, how to include it and in what form. When drafting the chapters, we foreground the stories of a select group of research participants, while other stories form the backdrop of the larger narrative. In part, the narrative critiques patriarchal discourses such as Catholicism so the ensuing story is about, and for, women; still masculinist social and cultural theories are employed to further ground the analysis. This is not to say as Cooper and Rogers state that we ‘consider the use of feminist methods as crucial in the reciprocal and relational understanding of personal enquiry’ (p. 1). We as researchers scrutinise the fluidity of the interpersonal and intrapersonal while reading and rereading the interview data as insiders and outsiders.

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Four colleagues co-authored chapters of the book. Ronnie Egan (Chap. 3) and I, in our conversations, share stories of similar histories yet each bring different versions of the same event to the writing process. Three of the co-authors—Lucas Walsh (Chaps. 4–6), Kirsten Hutchison (Chap. 7) and Julie Faulkner (Chaps. 9 and 10)—as non-Catholics and researchers who did not know the research participants continually returned to the assumptions that I, as an insider, made. They wanted to know more about the taken-for-granted knowledge, rituals and ideas that seemed evident to me but were a mystery to them. This ongoing questioning led to a deeper analysis and a more nuanced account. The co-authors have their own stories to tell about their involvement in the project. These stories are told below.

Ronnie Egan (Associate Professor of Field Education, School of Global Urban and Social Studies, RMIT) I come to this project, with Anne, as an insider with an insider’s experience and sensibility of the small Catholic community both of us grew up in. Anne’s research is about how our Catholic upbringing has seeped into and shaped our intergenerational relationships with our mothers, sisters, nieces and my daughter. Unlike the other authors, Anne and I were participant researchers; the stories in her research are our stories and those of our families and friends. There is an intimacy attached to them that Anne has taken the utmost respect to represent. I’ve known Anne for 55 years and been in contact with her continuously over that period, her invitation to work with her on this project was a gift. We had the opportunity to revisit and share understandings of events, times and experiences, everyday conversations that we’ve had over 55 years. Our talks allowed us to explore her interviews with our families and how they shifted over time. Things that weren’t discussed in the interviews 20 years ago were able to be discussed in the more recent ones, family violence, mental illness and abusive priests were examined and understood anew. The temporal dimension changed us. We’re friends with a horizontal genealogy, with shared intimate knowledge about one another’s families and friends, ‘retrospective narratives of the past that fit with the present’. In this project we’ve had the opportunity to collaborate together, have discussions about our lives, our histories, the things that bind and differentiate us; of immersing ourselves in the words of our family members, of noticing the similarities and differences of one another’s memories and then tracking that as the experience unfolds, finishing one another’s sentences within churches where we grew up through rituals, in gardens we knew as children, in a convent that contained us through adolescence. This was enhanced through our experience of reading and reflecting on other women’s perspectives in the literature, watching for the resonance and variance with our memories, our conversations, families and friends’

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stories, seeing how time changes those recollections while laughing or crying about them. I’m grateful to my old mate Anne for asking me to write with her for this book. This is our cultural story, the story of our family and friends which has been so eloquently captured by Anne. Although insiders in this story we’re also outsiders in the faith and the directions our lives have taken but the last word is saved for our mothers. They might judge us as self-indulgent, drawing too much attention to ourselves, showing off, placing our lives and those of our women family members under a microscope; but alongside this, we honour, Mona and Marie.

Lucas Walsh (Interim Executive Dean, Professor of Education Policy and Practice, Youth Studies, Faculty of Education, Monash University) Having worked with Anne, I became aware of the treasure-trove of stories and often profound insights that Anne had collected for this book. As a researcher of young people and their transitions from school to post-school life, I readily accepted her offer to contribute to this volume. Working my way through stories was a richly rewarding and sometimes deeply moving experience. But there were also challenging questions. The first was: how to make sense of all this ‘data’ from across decades? Part of this challenge was to make narrative sense of these complex and nuanced life experiences, and then locate them within wider frame. Echoing the wider literature, women’s transitions are not neat. They are relational and frequently ‘disrupted’, in the sense that they are not linear and sometimes, the participants’ stories painted a different picture to the one visible in the wider data. Life is messy and resists reduction and simple categorisation. But there were continuities and themes across generations and in relation to wider trends in education and work, and I have tried to capture some of these through a historical and sociological lens. The second challenge, as a male researcher, was a keen awareness that I was writing about the lives of women. The chapters I co-wrote were in part one male academic’s attempt to understand complex biographies from an outsider perspective. To what extent is my interpretation of their testimonies framed by a masculinist, privileged perspective? In the end, the best I could do was to try to locate their voices in the wider data and scholarly research and ask: what is the data saying? And I am treating it with the respect and nuance that it deserves? This leads to the third challenge: how to do justice to this nuance, particularly in the absence of deeper contextual knowledge of their stories. The result is admittedly imperfect and is itself sometimes messy, but it does try to locate the testimonies of participants in an intergenerational and historical context. But part of the power of this book is that successive chapters delve deeper into, and unpack the testimonies of, interviewees in more detailed and nuanced ways, moving from the macro, broad brushstrokes of my analysis to the micro level of individual memory and everyday experience.

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These are viewed through variously conceptual lenses that provide, for example, feminist perspectives and a richer window onto the incomplete mosaic of the stories in this book.

Kirsten Hutchison (Senior Lecturer, School of Education, Deakin University) As a colleague and friend, I was delighted to receive the offer from Anne to co-write a chapter for this volume. It has been an opportunity to participate in a longitudinal study of three generations of women’s lives, exploring memory, storytelling and social change. It has involved dialogue and meditation on how faith, spirituality, schooling, gender interweave to produce subjectivities and identities. One strand of my research has explored women’s lives and the significant and largely invisible maternal labour involved in resourcing and supporting their children’s education through their experience of homework. Anne’s study investigates another dimension of women’s lives rarely discussed, the relationships between mothering and faith, and illustrates the power of longitudinal, ethnographic studies to show nuanced changes over time. My involvement with Anne’s data through numerous conversations, collaborative analysis and co-writing revisited the personal and intimate stories of these Catholic women shared with Anne over many years. Our conversations were extensive and exhilarating, simultaneously poignant, hilarious, confronting, confounding, challenging, profound. Threaded throughout the women’s narratives are tensions and anxieties around choices made by these mothers over generations, regarding their daughters’ education and the articulation and questioning of deeply held religious and spiritual beliefs, shifting and evolving through generations. This blend of historical narratives, stories of everyday life, feminist theology, personal beliefs about mothering and education and articulation of religious and spiritual values combine to offer unique perspectives on school choice, as gendered and deeply emotional work. This analysis of maternal histories of Catholic schooling makes visible the pedagogies of everyday life that shape decisions about education and schooling that are not often discussed, and is informed by an understanding of ‘research subjects whose inner worlds cannot be understood without knowledge of their experiences in the world, and whose experiences of the world cannot be understood without knowledge of the way in which the inner worlds allow them to experience the outer world’ (Hollway & Jefferson, 2000, p. 5). As Bourdieu reminds us, in conditions of proximity, where the object of study is the researcher’s own worlds, the research process must involve conscious exploration of researchers’ dispositions, coupled with a methodology which invites participants to scrutinise interpretations and contribute to their representations as objects of study (Bourdieu, 1990). This chapter is an example of the power of

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reflexive research methodology and analysis, enabled through the collaboration between me as ‘outsider’ and Anne, researching her own intimate family worlds over three generations of mothers and daughters and their experiences of mothering, education, faith and spirituality.

Julie Faulkner (Senior Lecturer, Faculty of Education, Monash University) There is a story circulating that has a number of variations in the telling, but basically goes like this: Two young fish were swimming past an older fish who said to them as they passed ‘Hi boys – how’s the water?’ ‘Good,’ they nodded as they swam by him. Once out of earshot, one turned to the other and said, ‘What’s the water?’ ‘Dunno,’ he replied. And they swam on.

It’s the water that is being explored in this book. As a teacher researching her own practice, I had to learn to ‘make the familiar strange’, as anthropologist Clifford Geertz coined it in the 1970s. It’s an exhausting process to continually question the assumptions underpinning ‘common sense’ ways of being. These assumptions have been inculcated in our thinking from a young age and accepted by us long ago as ‘given’. It is often only when we are confronted by a culturally different proposition that we might question our own premises and wonder at their own arbitrariness. It can take us down risky paths—in my case, ‘school’ became an increasingly odd and ill-fitting vehicle for young people’s learning. My research led me to conclude most learning that mattered occurred for students out of school, which shook the foundations of my until now unquestioned professional certainties. This unsettling conviction was realigned for me by a colleague, who observed that too many PhDs she had read ‘merely confirmed what the researcher thought she already knew’. There was no element of surprise, and therefore, of learning. The realisation stimulated my research interests and now, as I write, my focus is Catholic mother–daughter relationships and the network of (sometimes tacit) beliefs, values and understandings within which they sit. Anne perhaps deliberately chose to co-write with non-Catholic friends and colleagues. Writing collaboratively has many benefits, and ‘making the familiar strange’ is not the least of them. As we write, discuss and write again, we are recalibrating our own Catholic/non-Catholic childhoods, critical moments, relationships, views of the world. As we move from the particular to the universal and back again, wrestling with theory in the hope of illuminating our practices and perspectives, we hone the lens through which we examine our own lives. It is Bakhtin’s dialogism in action and feels like a cognitive gym workout. And like a

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gym session, we engage because we trust that it is an intellectually healthy and meaningful pursuit. It is the challenging of the ‘Dunno’, and the pleasure of the process. Through the joint effort of exploring the water in these chapters, I am hoping to reflect more deeply and critically on the fine-grained differences that give our lives texture. It is how we explain such texture to others that affirms our collective human endeavours, intellectual, spiritual or domestic.

Overview of the Book An overview of each section of the book is provided so the reader becomes acquainted with the conceptual and narrative understandings that frame the book.

Part I Beginnings—Chapters 1–4 Part 1 provides a backdrop for the book and sets the scene. Following on from the introduction, Chap. 2 tells the story of my maternal genealogy. It entails is a series of conversations between me and a research participant Ronnie Egan, who is an academic in the field of social work. Our stories recount tales of growing up Catholic in the middle-class bayside suburbs of Melbourne, Australia. We engaged in a series of conversations to explore the different interpretations we have of our Catholic upbringing and the way it was infused by, and within our relationship with our mothers. Excerpts of these conversations which took place in five different locations, that had resonance to our life transitions, are interspersed throughout the chapters of this book. Chapter 3 tells the story of my great grandmother and grandmother going back through the maternal line. The stories of these women made visible their mark on history and how they impacted on my biographical past and the vertical mother–daughter and horizontal ‘sisterhood’ genealogies. Aspects of the way in which three generations of mothers and daughters’ identity is shaped by, and through, a Catholic education are uncovered in Chap. 4. Pedagogical ideologies are explored that traverse the home, church and school. It is as adults, although young adults at times, that the research participants now look back and assess what happened early on in their life. From conversations years later that meaning is made of the events which influenced the construction of the spiritual feminine self. Steedman (1992) describes this memory work as: children do not possess a social analysis of what is happening to them or around them, so the landscape and the picture it presents have to remain a background, taking on meaning later, from different circumstances. Understanding of the dream built up layers, over a period of time (p. 22).

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Part II Fluid Transitions—Chapters 5–7 This section of the book provides a historical and sociological analysis of the post-school transitions of four generations of Australian women. The post-school narratives begin in the early twentieth century with tales of the mothers of the older generation who participated in this study. The youngest generation provided research data which is current, dynamic and fluid as some of them are still completing school and making decisions about future pathways. Most of the first generation attended Catholic schools, all of the second generations were educated in the Catholic way whilst for the younger generation, education took on varying religious as well as secular forms. Though Catholicism is not explicitly focused on, a Catholic education permeates intergenerational relationships, values, and belief systems. The co-authors of these chapters come from different disciplinary backgrounds. Anne, the principal researcher, leans towards a critical feminist stance whilst Lucas understands the study from a sociological tradition that is often masculinist in its approach. Our two different approaches to research led to tensions as well as consistencies in our assumptions about research. It provided for robust discussion and critique of the writing process. We both acknowledge the limitations of an approach where there is ‘an unshaken faith in the ultimate arrival at essential truth through the empirical method of accumulation of knowledge, knowledge about women’ (Kamuf, 2017, p. 109). We recognise the plurality of voices and localities that situate women and these chapters represent one particular angle on Catholic women’s transitions post school. We both agree that the aim of this section is to foreground the perspectives of the girls and women represented in this study and to locate them against the wider national and international literature on women’s post-school transitions. The testimonies of the women confirm but also, at times, disrupt ideas which emerge from the literature. A major theme of this section of the book is continuity and change in the post-school transitions of the women interviewed. In this study, post-school transitions were impacted by a range of policies, practices and choices. Within the stories, the focus is on the notion of continuity and change across generations, highlighting, for example, how ‘interruptions’ to working life such as being a full-time carer of children has changed in some ways but stayed the same in others. The types of jobs undertaken also show that the types of study and work undertaken post-school are in the main gendered. Teaching and health care feature as pathways of the research participants across the generations. The testimonies foreground the gendered nature of the education and transitions to work, care and post-school life in general, although this too in some ways is changing. The participants’ testimonies are located in the broader context of women’s participation in education and training. It draws upon the wider literature about women’s pathways through school and into post-school vocational education and training and university. In setting this context, the discussion looks at the historical

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data and sociological implications, but with less emphasis on the theoretical and in particular feminist frames adopted in other sections of this book.

Part III Feminist Case Histories—Chapters 8–12 and Epilogue In this section of the book, the authors adopt a feminist auto/biographical approach that provides moving and powerful insights into the inter/generational experiences of the research participants. The mothers and daughters’ experiences are studied from the subjective particularities of their own perceptions. Stanley (2012), drawing on the work of Fonow and Cook (1991) identifies the methodological characteristics of feminist research and its positioning within a ‘reflexive concern with gender’ as: …a way of re/seeing the social world, the rejection of the claimed objectivity/subjectivity dichotomy, a concern with researching and theorising experience, and an insistence on ethics as a facet of these others” (pp. 5–6).

She names her approach ‘intellectual autobiography’ or ‘sociological autobiography’ (p. 11). Stanley’s key contention is that the notion of auto/biography is connected to that of ‘the auto/biographical ‘I’’. She writes: The auto/biographical I is an inquiring analytic sociological – here feminist sociological – agent who is concerned in constructing, rather than ‘discovering’, social reality and sociological knowledge. The use of ‘I’ explicitly recognises that such knowledge is contextual, situational, and specific, and that it will differ systematically according to the social location (as a gendered raced, classed, sexualised person) of the particular knowledge-producer (p. 11).

Like Stanley, the authors are concerned with ‘constructing rather than discovering social reality’. The conceptual analysis, in these chapters, by disentangling women’s memories and stories not only ‘construct social reality’ but moreover deconstruct and re-position the production of culture and religion as they are played out in women’s memories of their Catholic genealogical histories. Chapter 8 acts as a segue from Part II and takes a closer look at post-school transitions and mobility. In Chap. 9, ideas associated with the family, education and church are examined intertwining the politics of the Catholic church and the challenges it presented to women’s belief systems. Chapter 10 is a case study of four women’s hope and dreams that depict parallel stories played out across 50 years. Stories that memorabilia tell about mother–daughter exchanges are related in Chap. 11. This chapter shows that things can portray significant meanings and provide a space for the maternal and women. A theme which is the backdrop to the book—friendship between, and among women—acts as means of concluding the book along with an epilogue which is an excerpt from my niece Christina’s travel diary.

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Conclusion The original study entailed a feminist genealogical quest for the mother–daughter relationship as it is constituted in Catholic discourse. By establishing a conceptual space for women to search back through their genealogy to rewrite, remediate and reconceive of their relationship as mothers and daughters it aimed to uncover the debt that Catholic theology owes to the ‘maternal figure’. The second phase of the research took a longitudinal perspective and focused on the transitional stages of the youngest generation’s lives with a secondary focus being the changed religious, social and cultural landscape of the original mother–daughter groups. The authors’ intent is to engage with analysis that can be accessible to women who are positioned differently—academics, the research participants themselves and women shaped by diverse religious values and socio-economic and cultural beliefs. Minh-Ha (1992), a Vietnamese filmmaker and literary theorist wrote, ‘Every representation of truth involves elements of fiction, and difference between so-called documentary and fiction in their depiction of reality is a question of degrees of fictitiousness’ (p. 145). She goes onto explain the greater the attempt to try to divide the split between the two ‘the deeper one gets entangled in the artifice of boundaries’ (p. 145). This book blurs and fuses the boundaries between fiction and oral history so that a form of reality is constructed that is partial, situated and subjective.

References Beckford, J. (2003). Social theory and religion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Blake L. (2015). Chasing Eliza Miles: An archive story. Lillith: A Feminist History Journal, 21, 78. Bourdieu, P. (1990). In other words: Essays towards a reflexive sociology. Cambridge: Polity Press. Cooper, L., & Rogers, C. (2015). Mothering and ‘insider’ dilemmas: Feminist sociologists in the research process. Sociological Research Online, 20(2), 1–13. Daly, M. (1968). The church and the second sex. New York: Harper & Row. Fonow, M. M., & Cook, J. A. (Eds.). (1991). Beyond methodology: Feminist scholarship as lived research. Indiana University Press. Hirsch, M., & Smith, V. (2002). Feminism and cultural memory: An introduction. Signs, 28(1), 1–19. Holland, J., & Thomson, R. (2009). Gaining perspective on choice and fate. European Societies, 11(3), 451–469. Hollway, W., & Jefferson, T. (2000). Doing qualitative research differently: Free association, narrative and the interview method. London: Sage. Irigaray, L. (1993). Je, tu, nous: Towards a culture of difference (A. Martin, Trans.). New York & London: Routledge. Kamuf, P. (2017). Replacing feminist criticism. In M. Hirsch & E. Fox Keller (Eds.), Conflicts in feminism. New York: Routledge. Kuhn, A. (1995). Family secrets. New York & London: Verso.

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McLeod, J. (2003). Why we interview now—Reflexivity and perspective in a longitudinal study. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 6(3), 201–211. Minh-ha, T. (1992). Framer framed: Routledge. Mosmann, P., & Rademaker, L. (2015). Imagining futures for feminist history. Lilith: A Feminist History Journal, (21), 3–5. Passerini, L. (2003). Memories between silence and oblivion. In K. Hodgkin, & S. Radstone (Eds.), Contested pasts: The politics of memory (pp. 238–254). Routledge. Ruether, R. (1974). Religion and sexism: Images of women in the Jewish and Christian tradition. New York: Simone Schuster. Stanley, L. (2012). On Auto/Biography in sociology. In J. Goodwin (Ed.), SAGE biographical research (pp. 101–112). London: SAGE. Snitow, A., & DuPlessis, R. (1998). The feminist memoir project: Voices from women’s liberation. New York: Three Rivers Press. Steedman, C. (1992). Past tenses: Essays on writing, autobiography and history. London: Rivers Oram Press. Stephens, J. (2005). Cultural memory, feminism and motherhood. Arena Journal, 24, 69. Weeks, J. (2007). The world we have won: The remaking of erotic and intimate lives. London: Routledge.

Chapter 2

Catholic Mothers and Daughters: A Conversational Tale of Two Families Anne Keary and Ronnie Egan

Abstract Women’s auto/biography provides powerful and culturally diverse narratives. The traditional odyssey for the inner meaning of the female self often involves a search for the maternal legacy. Through a series of conversations that were enacted in various locations significant to the authors, the telling of partial and subjective stories of maternal histories were narrated. The two authors have known each other for more than 55 years having started school together at the age of four. Through their conversations, they sought to gain a fuller understanding of different representations of connections among, and between, women. Stories were told of mothers and daughters as well as sisters and friends. The focus of the conversations was on how a Catholic upbringing and education seeps into the intergenerational relationships of mothers and daughters and infuses the contradictions and polarities of women’s lives.

Introduction This chapter provides a partial account of the intergenerational narratives of the families of the two authors—Anne and Ronnie. Our stories interweave as we remember stories of growing up Catholic in the middle-class bayside suburbs of Melbourne, Australia. We have known each other for over 55 years and began school together at the age of four. The chapter is co-written and honours our mothers, Marie Keary and Mona Egan and reflects on the vertical genealogies of mothers and daughters as well as horizontal genealogies between sisters and friends (Irigaray, 1993a). The intent of writing and engaging in conversations is to gain a more nuanced understanding of different representations of connections among, and between, the women in our families across a number of generations. Our focus is on Catholic upbringing and education and its impact on intergenerational relationships. We chose to write this chapter through a series of conversations that were held in five different locations. The locations were chosen because of their resonance for us in growing up Catholic.

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. Keary, Education, Work and Catholic Life, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-8989-4_2

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To provide some personal context, in between the two interview phases of this longitudinal study both our mothers passed away in May 2005, great-grandchildren were born, and a granddaughter died of cancer. Stories are a great way to share memories and perspectives on the past. Our conversations are nostalgic and emotive and are a reworking of our pasts that, at times, encapsulate fond memories full of vigour and life. They offer mischievous reminisces of bold young women who speak of the influence of social, cultural and religious tenets. Central to these stories is the maternal relationship and how it was shaped by the everyday Catholic agendas of the periods considered. In preparation for the conversations, we exchanged feminist literature which had informed and influenced our thinking about how we came to understand our Catholic selves and the way it has shaped and continues to shape our lives and relationships. Irigaray’s (2008) text ‘Conversations’ was the impetus for the dialogic approach that we took in our exchange. Irigaray is not concerned with reading the truth but rather a conversation ‘passes on a truth that somehow is shareable by others’ (p. xii). Ours is to discuss a: place between two people… who question how they could create between them a shareable world; a truth, an art, an ethics, a politics, which transcend each one but which they could both share. Then the questioner and the respondent really exist and can alternately exchange roles (p. xii).

This feminist historical narrative is auto/biographical and is embedded in the notion of ‘the personal is political’ (Hanisch, 1969). Whatever the auto/biographical bent of these stories they involve a ‘construction of the self’ (Caine, 2010, p. 69) as well a collaborative de/construction of how we view our lives. Memories gather meaning over time and are retrospective narratives of the past that fit with the present. Auto/biographical narrations are embroiled in history as they provide particular details of stories of the past (McLeod & Thomson, 2009). The intent is to narrate aspects of intergenerational change and continuity taking into consideration the socio-historical and religious mores of the eras that come under discussion. This auto/biographical narrative is resolutely located in specific times, places and histories.

Conversations What is recalled in these conversations is contoured through the thoughts and voices of the authors, but this is not to say that other women, perhaps of different socio-economic, religious and ethnic backgrounds may, at times, see their own histories in, and through, these conversations. Evans and Reynolds (2012) contend that in, and through, biography ‘the potential for learning about individuals, their communities, the worlds in which they lived, and their times are huge’ (p. 2). Our conversations demonstrate the differences in how we may have remembered various events across our lives. Memory work is a method for scrutinising the

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junctures of social and personal change (McLeod & Thomson, 2009). Kuhn (1995) uses auto/biography as a means to uncover traces of the collective and historical within her own life. She speaks of memory as ‘a position or point of view in the current moment’ (p. 128). Memory uncaps material for us to examine, elucidate and scrutinise so as to gain a better understanding and search for possibilities and ways of understanding the interviews of our families. The conversations involved, as Kuhn suggests a ‘staging of memory; it takes an enquiring attitude towards the past and its (re) construction through memory’ (p. 157). Throughout these conversations, memory is evident in dis/similar and in/consistent ways and in some instances, silence can be an aspect of memory. These conversations are self-edited and reflect themes which are discussed, as well as themes which are glossed over, not spoken about or edited out of the public version. Hodgkin and Radstone (2003) explain that ‘memory may serve as an implacable reminder of what some might prefer to see forgotten; or it may strive to forget it. It is at once the salve and the salt in the wound’ (p. 237). Our conversations and the construction of this chapter involves a complex and intricate process going back and forth between happy and sad, raw and sensitive memories, and the conceptual understandings that underpin and interpret them. This chapter is not about ‘what is really going on’ (Lucey, Melody, & Walkerdine, 2003, p. 283), but rather multiple meanings of time weave in and out of our conversations which are referenced within specific contexts. Plural meanings of temporality come through in these conversations. These temporal dimensions are embellished and enhanced through the stories we tell and call on Irigaray’s (1993a) concept of the seasonality of time that represents a prospective feminine consciousness. In addition, the conversations refer to both linear historical time frames as well as monumental temporal frames such as childhood, adolescence, work, motherhood, ageing and death to explore the mother–daughter relationship across several generations. In our dialogic exchange, we bring to light how we believe we internalised, resisted and rejected the ‘normative positionings’ that were available to us during the various stages of our lives and the ongoing psychosocial challenges this has presented to us. These norms did not just position us as individuals but more so contoured our social and relational selves in terms of how we perceived the ‘conditions of possibility’ in relation to our mothers, teachers and peers. Davies et al. (2001) contend that ‘Choice stems not so much from the individual but from the conditions of possibility - the discourses which prescribe not only what is desirable, but what is recognisable as an acceptable form of subjectivity’ (p. 172). Our conversations, self- and collectively-monitor, how we wish to position ourselves against a range of discourses—including those of culture, class, gender, church, family and school. This chapter presents the narratives of our two maternal family groups. We engaged in five conversations in five different locations. Four of these conversations are represented in this chapter. Excerpts from the other conversation are interspersed throughout the chapters of this book. The choice of locations reflects our own personal biographies and our experiences as lifelong friends. The locations and

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their significance will be described before each conversation. We see ourselves as subjects and researchers where our exchanges are informal and express animated impressions of memories and reflections. The conversations include dialogue about us, our mothers, sisters, nieces and great-nieces and in Ron’s case, daughter as well as the content from Anne’s first and second phase interviews. The selfie photos that accompany each conversation are visual representations of the auto/biographical journey. They portray the photographic subject so that she can be interpreted in multiple ways. That is, the photos frame lives so they have meaning (Stanley, 1990). The selfie aims to enrich the conversations and give more interpretative information. Selfies can be viewed as narcissistic yet, on the other hand, they are a form of self-expression. The selfies associated with these conversations, as with the conversations themselves, take on Irigaray’s notion of the ‘playful and subversive’ (Grosz, 1989). Having set the scene and foregrounded the rhetoric let the conversations begin.

Conversation 1: ‘There’s a Comfort About It…’ The first conversation took place at St. Finbar’s church, a suburban church in the south-eastern suburbs of Melbourne. We met at this church school at the age of four. During this period of time, our daily lives were contained by, and within, the extended family, the local Catholic community and the immediate neighbouring community. We both grew up in modest post World War II brick homes that symbolised the safety and security of suburbia. St. Finbar’s primary school adjoins the parish church where we attended mass and engaged with Catholic religious rituals of ‘confession’ and ‘first communion’. Coffee night socials in the parish hall represented the repertoire of activities that marked our entry into adolescence and youthful social ways of being. In the 1960s and 1970s, St. Finbar’s was where Catholic doctrine was taught to us as young children. Most poignantly, Ronnie buried her mother at St. Finbar’s church.

Location: St. Finbar’s church, East Brighton

Ronnie: … We’re sitting at St. Finbar’s church in what would have been when we were little, the body of the church. When I was little I used to think this was a huge church, but as we sit here right now it feels tiny. So, space is different, and time is different, because this really was the centre of our early life. We’ve been together as mates since we started school here at St. Finbar’s in 1964, 54 years ago.

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Anne: When we were four years of age. Ronnie: … at the beginning we were here together, and then my mother’s funeral was here. My mother died just three weeks after your mother. Anne: It’s 11 years ago in May. Ronnie: So here we’ve come full circle and even though we’re not practicing Catholics, the place still has something. Anne: Yes, and as we ponder the question ‘Who is my mother? Who are our grandmothers? Who am I, the daughter’? We sit in a space which we sat in 11 years ago at your mother’s funeral. So, going back to the 1990’s when I began my PhD and this research into the mother-daughter relationship, the writing of a French feminist Luce Irigaray was central to the way I came to explain and understand the mother-daughter relationship. It was only a month or so ago that I came across a book of hers, which is called ‘Conversations’ (2008). Once again it was the impetus for the way we would Ronnie: have these conversations. Anne: And take a dialogic approach to the exploration of our lives. Ronnie: Irigaray’s (2008) book is about revealing the personal; it is around the importance of dialogue and conversation. So not only have we got this long history, but we have this very intimate sharing. You did the first interviews 20 years ago. Those first interviews were with my sister Sue and my mother Mona. Then twenty years later, earlier this year, we had conversation with Georgia my daughter, and then you interviewed Sue, my sister, and her daughters. So even though we’re very good friends and we remain very good friends, you took the role of researcher, but because you knew us, the nature of the conversations, certainly my experience of those conversations was quite different. Anne: One aspect is that through an autobiographical approach you can call on your own memories as well as the data. Ronnie: Yes, that’s right, because what we’re trying to do, as Irigaray says, is to capture the intimacy of everyday living. Even though we’ve got this common history, we have different memories and different ways of actually understanding it. Those conversations in the research were perhaps more personally revealing because you’ve been by my side for most of my life. We were able to have intimate conversations about loss and love and grief and all of those things in a way that I don’t know whether I would have disclosed as much as I did - it was because of our history together. Anne: Yes, and at times when you take on this role sometimes you write and reveal things that you would prefer not to. Ronnie: Exactly, and there is a choice in that… you’re asking those questions about what you are going to hold back and what you are

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Anne:

going to disclose. I think that was certainly my experience. Thinking back on the interview that you did 20 years ago with my mother, the importance that she placed on religion, the impact it had on her life and her disappointment that my kids weren’t necessarily being brought up Catholic. So, our aim, [through these conversations] is not to reveal reality, it’s about perceptions, and our perspectives and they change across our lifespan, according to our own experiences and knowledge.

Conversation 2: ‘The Overlay That Didn’t Leave You’ The second conversation occurred in what we once knew as the Parlour room at Star of the Sea college, Gardenvale. Star is where we received our secondary education as young Catholic women. The college was established in Gardenvale in 1883 by the congregation of the ‘Sisters of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary’; an order of nuns who were founded in Ireland in the late eighteenth century by Nano Nagle (Kane, 1974). The work of Germaine Greer, in particular, was influential, in framing this conversation as she attended Star—in the same era as Ronnie’s older sister. In reviewing her work, we identified with Greer’s (2003) heartfelt memories of the nuns who taught her. Some of these nuns also taught us at Star. Greer speaks about girls’ schools as ‘fairly hysterical institutions’. In our conversations, we relate to aspects of Catholic schooling that Greer refers to—the buildings, the nuns who were our teachers and the ‘domestication’ of students. The contradictions evident in how Greer understands her own experience of growing up Catholic and how it sits with her feminist ideals are pertinent to the way we look back on our own schooldays.

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Location—Star of the Sea College, Gardenvale

‘Back a generation’ Anne: Ronnie:

Anne: Ronnie:

Anne: Ronnie:

Anne: Ronnie:

Anne:

We’re at Star of the Sea college, in the Parlour. So much to talk about, so many memories come to mind. Yes, one of the first memories of this Parlour is that this is where we used to have piano exams. Before the exams, I remember having a lesson with Mother Cecilia before school started. You’d be practicing your scales and if you made a mistake, she’d pull out her keys and slap your wrists…and the nuns were very influential figures in our lives. Sr. Rose, Sr. Justin and Sr. Pascal. Absolutely, Sr. Paschal was a brilliant woman - open-minded. A significant leader with very high expectations of young women…You couldn’t get away with being half-arsed with her. No, and I sat in that chemistry class and she knew when you weren’t attending or hadn’t done your homework. She was really scary in that classroom setting but, out of that setting there was an element of ‘cool’. She had great warmth, great empathy… One of the things that struck Greer’s report in The Guardian (2003) was her fondness in speaking about the nuns at Star - different women like Sr. Raymond - she was someone that taught my sisters, and Mother Eymard. ‘The Female Eunuch’ (Greer’s 1970 book) presented another world, one that we hadn’t come from. What do you mean by that? The contrast, the multiple understandings of the same time. Courtin (2015) who’s been very involved with the Royal Commission into the Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse also spoke about her own experience in a Catholic boarding school - around the fear of God and hell into the students. We were brought up with total obedience to God and an unquestioning belief in the Catholic doctrine. I remember one Good Friday when my neighbour, who wasn’t Catholic, and I went to the fish and chip shop and ate dim-sims. I honestly thought, I genuinely believed, that my mother would know and that this was certain hell for me. I think though we need to make the distinction between women who attended school before Vatican II.

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Ronnie: Yes, good point. Anne: We were post-Vatican II. Our mothers spoke of these as more liberal times in the church. The teaching of Catholic doctrine was more narrow and more rigid for our older sisters and certainly our mothers. Ronnie: My mother would say that was a negative distinction. Anne: Yes, and it was a very confusing time for everyone and caused a lot of angst because we were being raised in a different era, in less conservative times. Ronnie: Sue, my sister, recalls these more liberal times and recalls how some nuns demonstrated at anti-war protests and women’s rights marches in the seventies. They later left the convent but, again, there was tension both within the convent and Catholic families like ours. Anne: Yes, and I think in terms of our own education post Vatican II, our later years of schooling were more open and even the topic of contraception was raised and discussed. Whereas contraception for our mothers was a huge Ronnie: constraint … Anne: Yes, the Catholic church had and still has an edict on it. Ronnie: … The thing about our mothers was that their faith was absolutely unquestioning. I’m thinking of Mona’s interview twenty years ago when she said, ‘I think that a lots of things have happened to me over my life. I haven’t gone into everything. The only thing that’s stood by me is my faith. If I didn’t have my faith, I don’t know where I’d be today. So, I just feel that it’s something very, very, very important in my life’. Anne: It wasn’t until my ’30s that I told my mother that I didn’t go to church anymore. She said to me, ‘Anne, the only thing that’s kept me going all my life is my faith’. It was her faith that was the key to her sense of being. Ronnie: Yeah, to being alive. And it was so deep. Anne: It was so ingrained in both our mothers. Bulbeck (1997) says, ‘Every woman has her own unique story to write on the blank page… a story which is framed by the cultural expectations of her time’… And for us that included the religious expectations of the time. Ronnie: That’s the value of your work. Our conversations have struck a chord for me around my life now. The longitudinal nature of this work connects the past and the future.

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Conversation 3: ‘Time to Meditate and Pray’ The family home was a focal space in our Catholic upbringings. Many of the first phase interviews for this study were conducted in the family homes of our mothers. Since the first phase interviews, our family homes have been sold with the passing of our parents. We wanted one of the conversations to be in a family home. So, we called on Anne’s only remaining maternal aunt—Patricia and visited her suburban home in the leafy eastern suburbs of Melbourne. Patricia still lives in her own house and has a garden that reminded us both of our mothers’ gardens—daphne, gardenia, lemons, roses and camellias. Healy (1994) writes, ‘the terms “suburb” and “suburbia” have functioned as imagined spaces on to which a vast array of fears, desires, insecurities, obsessions and yearnings have been projected and displaced’ (p. xiii). Suburbia has provided and continues to provide a different cultural space across the generations. In line with Healy in our conversations, we attempt to ‘trace the scar of suburban family memory’ (p. xv) which for us was ensconced in a Catholic milieu. In particular, it was the garden at Patricia’s that gave us a sense of being home. For Patricia, a widow at the age of 33 with six children under 12, the garden metaphorically and as a cultural space, has taken on different meanings throughout her life. Duraz (1994) suggests that in the garden, ‘Moments are created however limited, for “feeding” one’s own interests’ within versions of femininity that require the literal and symbolic feeding of others’ (p. 205). Ideas associated with literal and metaphorical notions of the ‘home’ and the ‘garden’ are a feature of the ensuing conversation.

Location: Patricia’s home

Time… Anne: It’s Spring and we’re having a cup of tea with Patricia. Ronnie: Patricia, when I’m sitting here with you, there are certain expressions that I remind me of Marie (Anne’s Mum) sitting there. You are so much like her. My mother died and all of my aunts have died now. I can see my sister is beginning to look like my mother. Anne: Well, when I look in the mirror, I see my Mum smiling at me. Patricia: There you go. Ronnie: Yeah, can you see that similarity Patricia, between you and your sisters?

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Patricia: Yes, yes. Anne: One of the topics we are going to talk about today is the idea of time and space in our lives. These spaces might be in the garden or in the home or in the workplace or with family and the temporality of our lives. Usually we think about the linear notion of time and the way the years go by and how we age with each passing year. Irigaray (1993b) speaks about the aging process in terms of the seasons. Patricia: I had an interesting conversation just last week with a lady who said, ‘It is spring now, and it’s like the young children are jumping around all over the place’. We were both grateful we’d reached spring. It stopped with that. It seems to me with aging that the whole of life becomes closer so that you remember incidents in your childhood as clear asRonnie: a bell. Patricia: - as if it was happening yesterday – certain incidents, whereas that used to not happen, it used to be a lot slower. The older you get the quicker and closer together the whole time of your life becomes. Anne: That’s a really nice way of looking at it. Ronnie: Do you remember when that started to happen? Patricia: Probably about 70… 75 even. I remember Marie (Anne’s mum) talking about being far more interested in the years gone by and I’d think, ‘I’m not interested’… Most of it I could not remember but to her it was clear. Now, whether that’s an ageing thing or the fact that your life is closing in Anne: And it came to her first, but now you feel that closing in sort of feeling. That’s really interesting. Patricia: It’s interesting too. You can go back and feel and say the incident has occurred. You feel exactly how you felt at that time… Anne: One of the things that Holmes (1995) talks about is the importance of gardens and that sense of home, the home that you create. The home that we each create becomes this space. Ronnie: For my mother’s generation that is where they can be in charge of the home. The home and the garden that you create is where creativity happens. Patricia: I find creativity with gardening. It’s usually in Spring, I just have to get out in the garden. I just have to create. I would say other people have creativity in a different way. If you look at Marie, my sister she was not really interested in the garden. Creativity came with knitting and sewing and tapestries and things. Ronnie: So, was that interest in the garden something throughout your life? When you had your kids, you wouldn’t have had a lot of time?

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Patricia: No, no, I had no time for [gardening]—as my mother said to me, ‘You’ve got six flowers inside the home to be worrying about, to be looking after and caring for’. Ronnie: That’s a lovely Anne: metaphor Ronnie: Yeah, that was a beautiful thing for her to say. Patricia: She’d say, ‘Don’t worry about the garden’. So now I have time to care for the garden as I don’t have the children to care for… Although gardening doesn’t seem to have passed [on to my children] Ronnie: Your kids aren’t gardeners? Patricia: Some of them are, some of them are, but they’re still with their children. Another thing that comes with older age is more time to meditate and pray and so although all these catastrophes are going on, and unrest amongst the children, and they’re searching, I think, well, that’s their problem; that’s for them to sort out. Mine is to pray. It’s a contemplative prayer. Ronnie: A feeling of being close to God. Do you think praying was important fro your generation? Maybe we haven’t captured that Anne: I feel my older sister has that… but we were brought up with God, and we’ve Patricia: You threw him out Ronnie: Threw him out. It’s true. Patricia: If you throw God out you’ve got to rely a hell of a lot on yourself. Ronnie: Yeah, that’s a good point. I may not pray to a particular god, but I love being out in the country, looking at Patricia: what he made. Ronnie: There’s nothing like the natural world. Patricia: Nothing more than what God has made. Ronnie: As well as a strong sense of Patricia: this is beautiful. A beautiful level to have reached. Ronnie: You just breathe it in…

Conversation 4: ‘A Life Well Lived’ The final conversation was at ‘Mona’s Seat’ which overlooks the sea at North Brighton, in Melbourne’s bayside. There is a walking track along the beach to Gardenvale where Star is situated. When Ron’s mother died in 2005, her family decided to locate a seat at this place with a plaque that read, ‘Mona Egan, 19172015: A Life well lived’. This was a place that Mona and her children would often walk together throughout their lives.

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The wind blew, and we felt the sea breeze on our faces as we shared our memories at Mona’s Seat. This conversation provided us with time to contemplate the breeding ground of our feminist politics, the notion of friendship in women’s lives and what gives us strength in adversity. We chatted about how a place in one’s community can hold significance for dealing with loss and grief in one’s life. Ron pinpointed the hypocrisy in the church’s teachings for women and how we, our mother’s daughters, had moved away from the traditional religious beliefs that our mothers raised us by. A walk along the beach provided a space and time for our final reflection. In this conversation, we strongly felt our mothers’ presence.

Location: Mona’s Seat

Anne: Maybe Ronnie you could tell us about ‘Mona’s seat’. Ronnie: Whenever any of us were having difficulties or we were studying for exams, Mona would always take us for a walk along the beach and we’d walk and walk. It was just a lovely thing that was very much a part of our relationship with her. When she died we decided that we would put a seat along this walk that she really enjoyed. So, we had a seat put there and placed a plaque which said, ‘Mona’s Walk, A Life Well Lived’. So here we are having our last conversation. Anne: In the early 1990s, I think we began to share ideas about feminist scholarship and methodology when both of us were doing Masters degrees. You gave me a book by Joyce McCarl Nielsen (1990) that acknowledges the complexity of women’s experiences and perspectives. I think that idea has been central to our conversations. Kathryn Anderson writes in the book about oral histories and how an oral historian explores emotional and subjective experiences as well as facts and activities. For me, the conversations have been a highly emotive exchange. Ronnie: After our undergraduate studies you went to New Zealand and then remote Aboriginal communities to teach and for me, I went into social work and worked in a whole array of settings; youth housing, youth refuges, community health services, sexual assault services. Our lives were different to many of our peers at that point of time. Certainly, for me, my work with young women was a real point of consciousness raising about the experiences of other young women, about the day-to-day lives that this group of young women lived. I guess we saw a very different type of life to the one -

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Anne: - we had been raised in Ronnie: Through these life experiences we became aware of the contradictions the hypocrisy of the church. We gradually moved away from any traditional religion as a result of that life experience. The reality of our stories, our experiences, gives insights into the similarities and differences of the daily life of women and how it played out inter-generationally. It is interesting that different generation having common values while they develop their own ways of knowing. Your study has given me the opportunity to ask Georgia (my daughter) of what she thinks of religion and the links she makes to ideas about the importance of community. Anne: Talking about community a little story I’d like to share is when your dad passed away, my mother at the time, had taken up cards on a Saturday afternoon with a group of women. I’m not sure what they played. Was it solo or bridge? Ronnie: I think it was probably a bit of both. Anne: It brought together a group of women in their later years. They shared Saturday afternoons at a similar age to what we are now. Many of them had been widowed. Ronnie: Widowed, yes. Anne: Although my mother wasn’t widowed at the time she enjoyed the company of other women When your dad died I remember you came to me and said, ‘do you think your mum could talk to the card group about her joining the card group’. So, I went home and spoke to mum and she said, ‘I’ll see what I can do’. Ronnie: That’s right. It was really important for Mona after my father died. She had to create a life on her own and she did. Cards were central to that and they’d often have fundraisers. Mona also went to church most mornings. If anyone was missing at church they would check on them. I remember at her funeral the card women were there. Anne: I remember when one of the ladies in the card group passed away and her daughter asked the card ladies to come to her house and take a little memento of her life. Mum came home with a vase. I thought what a beautiful way to remember somebody’s life by sharing those small mementos. Ronnie: Those women were incredible women in so many ways in the way they supported one another and created a community. Anne: They had raised Catholic families in the ’60s and ’70s. Ronnie: We’ve spoken about your mother’s life, your aunt’s life, my mother’s life. There is so much resonance around their faith and how it offered them such enormous solace. Anne: And took them out of themselves and they felt that they weren’t alone to deal with the world. Family was also important and central.

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Ronnie: But at the end of the day it was God who was providing that solace in a way that we probably don’t understand… for them it was the bedrock

Coda Our stories are shaped by how we regulated our exchanges, what we’ve said and not said, how we understand our gender and religion both now and in the past. Along with Irigaray (2008) we decided to take a dialogic approach to exploring the religious pedagogical aspects of our lives. This was complemented by an autobiographical tacit that opened up a space of disclosure, yet at the same time left many tales implicit in what had been said or untold altogether. The inherent contradiction is that through our private yet public dialogue we have not only shared our own histories but also the histories of our mothers who were intensely private people. ‘There’s the life lived, and the life told’ (Thomson et al., 2002). Through our conversations we both lived and told stories of our lives, and how they connected with the histories and lives of our grand/mothers, our sisters, our aunts and the next generation of younger women. Like Irigaray (2008), through our conversations, we were wanting to acknowledge the way in which our mothers managed the material conditions of their lives. The most significant coping mechanism they had was their deep faith in Catholicism. The mystery, for us their daughters, is the solace our mothers found in this deep faith which grounded their everyday.

References Bulbeck, C. (1997). Living feminism: The impact of the women’s movement on three generations of Australian women. Cambridge: Cambridge. Caine, B. (2010). Biography and history. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan. Courtin, J. (2015). Sexual assault and the Catholic church: Are victims finding justice? (Ph.D. thesis). Retrieved from Monash University library. Davies, B., Domer, S., Gannon, S., Laws, C., Rocco, S., Taguchi, H., et al. (2001). Becoming schoolgirls: The ambivalent project of subjectification. Gender and Education, 13(2), 167–182. Duraz, J. (1994). Suburban gardens: Cultural notes. In S. Ferber, C. Healy, & C. McAuliffe (Eds.), Beasts of suburbia: Reinterpreting cultures in Australian suburbs (pp. 198–213). Carlton: Melbourne University Press. Evans, T., & Reynolds, R. (2012). Introduction to this special issue on biography and life-writing. Australian Historical Studies, 11(1), 1–8. Greer, G. (2003, November 27). The habit of a lifetime. The Guardian. Greer, G. (2006). The female eunuch. London: Harper Collins (Original work published 1970). Grosz, E. A. (1989). Sexual subversions: Three French feminists. St. Leonards, NSW: Allen & Unwin.

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Hanisch, C. (1969). The personal is political. Retrieved from http://www.carolhanisch.org/ CHwritings/PIP.html. Healy, C. (1994). Introduction. In S. Ferber, C. Healy, & C. McAuliffe. (Eds.), Beasts of suburbia: Representing cultures in Australian suburbs (pp. xiii–xvii). Carlton: Melbourne University Press. Hodgkin, K., & Radstone, S. (2003). And then silence…. In K. Hodgkin & S. Radstone (Eds.), Contested pasts (p. 237). Taylor & Francis. Holmes, K. (1995). Spaces in her day. St Leonards, NSW: Allen & Unwin. Irigaray L. (1993a) Sexes and genealogies. New York: Columbia University. Irigaray, L. (1993b). Je, tu, nous: Towards a culture of difference (A. Martin, Trans.). New York & London: Routledge. Irigaray, L. (2008). Conversations. London & New York: Continuum. Kane, K. D. (1974). The Presentation Sisters in Victoria: Adventures in faith. Victoria, Australia: The Congregation of the Presentations of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Kuhn, A. (1995). Family secrets: Acts of memory and imagination. New York & London: Verso. Lucey, H., Melody, J., & Walkerdine, V. (2003). Uneasy hybrids: Psychosocial aspects of becoming educationally successful for working-class young women. Gender and Education, 15(3), 279–284. McCarl Nielsen, J. (1990). Feminist research methods: Exemplary readings in the social sciences. London: Westview Press. McLeod, J., & Thomson, R. (2009). Researching social change. London: Sage. Royal Commission into the Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse. https://www. childabuseroyalcommission.gov.au/. Stanley, L. (1990). Feminist praxis: Research, theory and epistemology in feminist sociology. London: Routledge. Thomson, R., Bell, R., Holland, J., Henderson, S., McGrellis, S., & Sharpe, S. (2002). Critical moments: Choice, chance and opportunity in young people’s narratives of transition. Sociology, 36(2), 335–354.

Chapter 3

My Maternal Genealogy: Remembering and Looking Back Anne Keary

Abstract This is a story of a mother and daughter told through the eyes of their grand/daughters. The stimulus for it was a conversation I had with my mother about my grandmother Mary’s early twentieth-century photo album. The leaves of the album shed light on a middle-class Melbournian lifestyle post World War I. My grandmother and her mother Margaret’s religious and social identity could be arranged through the structures of the dominant ideologies represented in the black and white photography. Yet, this interpretation of Mary’s life left me, her granddaughter dissatisfied as it gave shape to Margaret and Mary’s lives but it seemed to lack feeling. Binns (Art Network 1:20, 1979) notes: ‘…people live within certain roles and within certain restrictions, but they also can be assertive, can be inventive, can be creative in the way they conduct their lives’ (p. 42). I suppose what I, the auto/biographer and grand/daughter, looked for in my grandmother’s photo album and in my mother’s and aunt’s stories was a more imaginative whimsical feminist tale of my maternal forebears. Hence, this chapter explores these women’s lives and relationships through the impassioned gaze of a (great) granddaughter.

Introduction This is an auto/biographical intergenerational tale of my maternal genealogy. This chapter puts on show the social and religious ‘selves’ of my maternal forebears through photographs and oral history portrayals. Minh-Ha (1999) points out that auto/biography ‘does not mean an individual standpoint or the foregrounding of a self’ but rather its purpose is to ‘expose the social (self) and selves’ (p. 19). For Minh-Ha ‘the question is no longer: Who am I? Or what language should I abide by? But which self? Which language? When, where and how am I?’ (p. 74). This chapter begins with a conversation I had with my mother about my grandmother’s photo album and then continues to relate tales of my maternal history through her sister Patricia’s voice. The conversation began on a warm Summer’s day in Melbourne in 1995 at my parent’s house. The photo album was the catalyst for a warm and emotional dialogue between my mother and myself, as I undertook the initial phase of this study. © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. Keary, Education, Work and Catholic Life, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-8989-4_3

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Irigaray (1993a) advises mothers and daughters to develop their relationship in a practical way by displaying ‘photographs of themselves with their daughter(s) or may be with their mother. They could also have photographs of the triangle: mother, father, daughter’ (p. 48). The significance of this display is that these images provide girls with a depiction of their genealogy; a genealogy which constructs their own identity in terms of the maternal. Irigaray also suggests that women construct spaces between mothers and daughters by passing objects between them and partaking in verbal exchanges. In concrete terms, that means that the mother-woman should speak to the daughter-woman … talk about things that concern the two of them, talk about herself and ask her daughter to do the same, bring up her genealogy, especially the relation to her own mother (p. 50).

I followed Irigaray’s advice and conversed with my mother about the photos in the album, an object, which had passed between three generations of mothers and daughters. The photo album was a visual resource that prompted a substantive interchange between my mother and me. The photos were something tangible, as well as symbolic, that my mother and I could discuss. The photos framed our conversation by the way they provoked and enhanced memories. They were a means for narrating a life story in a less arduous way and inspired anecdotal warmth and humour. They provided a complementary process for interviewing my mother. My mother relished my curiosity and attentiveness to her maternal history, and I valued our interchange. Much remained left untold, but the photos offered an occasion to share many treasured tales. The exchange between my mother and me about the photo album was relaxed with the chatter coming from both of us and from the photos too. The conversation proved to be emotional on a number of levels. The day following our talk my mother was diagnosed and rushed to hospital with bowel cancer. As I transcribed our dialogue, my mother was being prepared for major surgery. My research took on a gravity and depth, which it had not had previously. My mother passed away ten years later in the autumn of 2005 leaving me with the memoirs, my grandmother’s photo album and the verbal exchange we had about the snapshots. Writing this chapter connected me with my maternal grandmothers as young women and also to the many embodied chronicles of their lives. The early twentieth-century photographs are enriched through extracts of oral histories told by mother and her younger sister, my aunt. Meanings given to photos are conditional. I, the granddaughter, read assumptions and circumstances into the photographs in the album. Stanley (1990) writes that ‘There is a commonsensical feeling that photographs can capture and summarise a part of a person’s life and character’ (p. 270). This chapter captures part of the story of my maternal forebears and offers a perspectived tale of the multidimensional aspects of a woman’s life in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century in middle-class Australia.

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Gendered Places Margaret (1871–1951), Age 80 First, I begin with the story of my great grandmother Margaret who was born in 1871 (see Image 3.1). In nineteenth-century Australia, public and private spaces were negotiated gendered spaces and intersected with the ideological construction of woman’s ‘place’ in society, which was seen to be in the home. The home was a domestic space that demarcated and contained middle-class Anglo-European women. A woman’s respectability and social positioning was tied up with the home and the family. Russell (1993, p. 28) writes, ‘Her home not only provided respectability but also determined to a great extent her place in the social hierarchy, since this was closely linked to the appearance and organisation of the home’. During the nineteenth century, men were, in the main, measured by their actions while women were judged by place and setting. During this period of time, there was a marked distinction between the public and private spheres. National stereotypes were founded on a particular style of masculinity, so women constructed their own social standing and endorsement by conforming to and creating a circumscribed form of femininity. Omitted from the public sphere there were limitations on how they could assert influence and standing. Russell contends that,

Image 3.1 Early twentieth century photo of Margaret from Mary’s album

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‘Lacking a culturally sanctioned sense of identity, they sought instead a strong sense of “place”, of belonging’ (p. 28). This sense of place and belonging comes through in the story of my great grandmother Margaret as told by her granddaughter Marie. Grandma was born at a big mansion of a house, in the Rutherglen district where they still process grapes and make wines. It’s still in the family this old homestead … She was born there; one of eight children of German parents and she went to school there. At a young age, she was only eighteen, she married a man who was with the customs stationed at Wodonga at the time. He was a man about ten, twelve years older than herself. They were very happy, lovely people. She had one child. Well, she had two children, one was a little boy who died when he was about seven from diphtheria, I think. Then my mother was the only child… (Interview 1995).

Margaret was from a large family of German heritage. She grew up in a rural area on the Murray River in northern Victoria which is renowned as a wine-making region. My great grandmother married young and was to bear two children. Margaret followed the conventional path of marriage and motherhood although motherhood was to be tainted by grief with the death of her son at a young age. My mother went on to tell more of her grandmother’s story. She related how Margaret’s early married life was shaped by her husband’s work which involved being located in different parts of Victoria. She commented, ‘They had a tremendous number of moves with his Custom’s job’ (Interview 1995). When her husband retired, she returned with her husband to the homestead of her childhood to raise the orphaned children of her brother. Marie related this chapter in her grandmother’s married life. When my mother Mary had grown up, my Grandma’s brother and wife died and there were six children to be looked after. Grandpa had just retired so they went to liv at Wodonga to rear the six children. They’re all dead now but they were a wonderful family and she did what she could to bring them up. They never forgot her for it, and they came to visit and kept in touch (Interview 1995).

This story points to the fluid and contingent boundaries of the genealogies of women. Margaret not only mothered her own daughter but also the children of her brother. Through the act of recounting her grandmother’s life history, my mother tells of a maternal history that both geographically and maternally was located in a range of sites. There were digressions to the story of mothering that involved heartache as well as love and care not only for her biological children but also for the extended family. The photograph (Image 3.1) of Margaret with her dog Bob was taken on the front porch of her home in Camberwell, Melbourne. This photograph is not an objective framing of Margaret’s life. This visual evidence is shaped by the societal mores and culture of the times. The photograph is a family snapshot taken I presume by her daughter Mary on her Brownie camera. The photos in the album surrounding this snapshot are dated 1921, so it can be assumed that Margaret was around the age of 50 at the time the photo was taken. The photo has a more formal air to it which is in contrast to another photo on an earlier page in the album that depicts Margaret in a more relaxed pose playing with Bob (see Image 3.2). Through

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Image 3.2 Margaret with Bob the dog

my eyes, those of her great-granddaughter, Margaret appears a strong assertive woman. She is attired in a long skirt and buttoned up to the neck light-coloured blouse. She embodies a traditional gendered identity as she is located within the private realm of the domestic sphere. She appears to have engaged with gender values that society prescribed at the time, yet I like to think of the agency she exercised as a mother and wife. It can be imagined that Margaret, in negotiation with Mary, created the photographic identity of her own choosing. The photo makes Margaret visible to future generations and in so doing both ‘evocatively reinforces the more traditional textual sources and provides unique readings of history’ (Kinsey, 2011, p. 1134).

Extended Family Both my mother Marie and her sister Patricia remembered their grandparents coming to live with them in their family home in East Kew, Melbourne. My mother recollected Grandma and Grandpa came to live with us when I was about 14 years old. Grandma was a bad arthritic and couldn’t walk far and my Grandfather was an elderly man and couldn’t do all the work for her, so they came to live with us. We knew them very well, they were lovely people (\ Interview 1995).

Marie’s individual memories were supplemented by the memories of her younger sister Patricia, to become collective familial memories. Patricia explained the impact on their daily lives of an extended family.

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3 My Maternal Genealogy: Remembering and Looking Back We were brought up with both a mother and father and with grandparents living with us. My mother’s parents came to stay with us when I was seven years of age… I was 12 when one died, and I was 15 when the second one died. By that time, I was the only one at home… [Having our grandparents living with us did impact on our lives] not in a bad way as far as I was concerned, but I’m sure it was a heavy load for my mother and father. It was during the war. Both men had their gardens, one out the front and one out the back. There was a competition between the carrots and the beans of who had the best (Interview 2017).

Patricia considered wartime memories from the standpoint of the extended family and domesticity rather than the traditional tale of the heroics and antics of the ‘digger’ on the battlefield and the supportive role of the women left behind. The garden came into focus as she spoke of the competition between the two men in the household to grow the best vegetables. Mary was guardian of the home while her husband, a World War I veteran, took on a more public role as breadwinner for the family. Patricia went onto explain the heavy load that her mother, as a daughter, carried being a carer for her parents. My grandmother would have my mother up regularly at night time in pain. There was very little help you could have for aches and pains in those times. She’d go to bed with a hot water bottle. But that’s not much help for aching bones when the water bottle gets cool. You didn’t have a hot bath every day. My mother would have to give her a massage of olive oil every day, probably before she went to bed. They would have their tea at about five before we had our tea at six. Then they would go up to their lounge room. The house was large enough for them to have their own lounge room and their own bedroom separated from the rest of the house, which was quite good. They’d have their tea earlier and they’d have their breakfast later, so that meant a lot of housework then for my mother… (Interview 2017).

Mary’s home duties escalated as she took on caring for her elderly parents. She became a nurse for her mother who was a bad arthritic. Patricia acknowledged her mother’s increased domestic duties yet remembers the extended family ‘not in a bad way’. This war memory which is not the usual wartime anecdote, shows Mary taking up a gendered identity on the home front as wife, mother and daughter. It depicts her role as a nurse and foregrounds the love of a daughter for her mother against the backdrop of World War II. During this time of world conflict life in the suburbs of Melbourne went on with women taking on a range of significant but often taken-for-granted responsibilities. Consideration of the contemporary positioning of women can be enhanced through an examination of the past. Nineteenth-century women were scantly acknowledged in traditional Australian history texts which tended to emphasise the notion of ‘mateship’ and national masculinist identities. It was not that women were totally omitted but rather they were cast in ways that signified their role in the home and family (Kingston, 1994). Gaining insights into my maternal great grandmother’s life as Allan (1986) writes ‘may check the process of feminists [such as myself] finding themselves continually “reinventing the wheel”’ (p. 175). Allan suggests that, ‘Such a grasp of women’s past can only enrich our struggles by revealing what is unique about present circumstances. It can undercut some of the inane smugness of current activists who assume that legal reforms and public debate are the only way forward for women’ (p. 175). By recognising that my

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maternal history is important and matters, and by providing a site for supposition, interpretation, and a symptomatic analysis, histories that have been in the background come alive through conversations with my mother and aunt.

A Home Lover Mary (Daughter of Margaret) (1895–1976), Age 77 Mary, Margaret’s daughter, had three daughters (see Image 3.3); my mother Marie who was the eldest, Inez who died at the age of 33 (whose story is told in Chap. 10 alongside that of her younger sister) and Patricia who participated in this study. My mother shared memories of her mother My mother was a lovely person, a home lover. She always had lots of lovely things in the home. It was a lovely old home they lived in although it got into disrepair when she died in 1976 and my father was left to live on his own (Interview 1995).

I too remember my grandmother as a ‘home lover’. When she passed away my mother gave me three doilies which I still treasure. They accentuate the contradictions in my own life as a white Anglo-European woman with feminist Image 3.3 Mary with her three daughters—Marie, Inez and Patricia in the 1930s

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sensibilities. They represent the cultural positioning of women within the private sphere of the home yet, the doilies are mauve; a colour that symbolises the liberation of women. Miller (2010) suggests that ‘culture comes above all from stuff’ (p. 54). In a feminist tradition, I have reclaimed and re-positioned the doilies as activist cultural ‘stuff’ (Bartlett & Henderson, 2016) that connect me with my maternal lineage. My mother goes onto tell the story of my grandmother’s education and marriage Gran went to Vaucluse Convent where I was educated. They lived at Camberwell and she used to go there. She attended ‘Our Ladies of Victory’ primary school where there were Josephite nuns. Then she went onto Vaucluse Convent from where she graduated. She went to Loreto Convent at Albert Park. They had a teaching course there and I think she was a boarder whilst she was there. She learnt how to teach there. Then she went back and taught with the FCJ nuns who had educated her. She and Dad were married in 1925 on St. Valentine’s day (Interview 1995).

As a young woman growing up in the early twentieth century, my grandmother was very well educated by various orders of Catholic nuns. My grandfather returned from World War I and their courtship began. There is one undated photo in the album which appears to be the two of them (see Image 3.4). They are walking along a road in Beechworth, northern Victoria, and my grandmother dressed in white holds her box Brownie camera in her hands. Light touches one side of my grandfather’s face with the remaining facial forms lying deep within the photo. It is a photo which has faded with time and facial features are not clearly defined. The Image 3.4 Mary and Charles, Beechworth

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image represents Mary during her early adult years as a granddaughter, a daughter, a sweetheart and young modern Melbournian woman. The photo provides me with an image of my grandmother at a point of time prior to her taking on motherhood. This snapshot holds so much meaning as it signifies a relationship which was to carry a strong maternal lineage. Patricia, like Marie her older sister, remembered her mother Mary’s time in northern Victoria as a young adult. She recollected the paintings her mother did when living there with her parents After school, Mum went on to do teaching. In the course of her teaching, her parents had to go to northern Victoria to care for the children. The children’s parents had both died and four or five children had been left orphans. So, because my grandfather was retired at that time and their daughter, my mother, was at teacher’s college they were free to head up to there. Well, as it turned out, Grandma might have got a little bit sick or a little bit unable to care for the family all on her own. My mother gave up her teaching career and went up there for a couple of years where she did several paintings which were handed on to us. She sat at the river when painting at that time in her life (Interview 2017).

In the early twentieth century, debates surrounding the politics of national and cultural identity in addition to the identities of ‘the artist’ and of ‘woman’ were emerging. Women were seen as symbols of modernity. Australia began to explore aspects of modernisation and this filtered down to art education (Rentschler, 2007). Mary’s paintings were of a traditional kind. She did not challenge existing ideas and conventions of the day which perhaps reflected a lifelong pattern. However, her paintings represented a time for her creative-self and were influenced by the landscape that encircled her every day. I have two of my grandmother’s oil paintings. One is of two apples placed alongside a green jar (see Image 3.5); the

Image 3.5 Mary’s painting of two apples and a green jug that is hanging in her grand-daughter Anne’s living room

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Image 3.6 Mary’s painting of Cromwell’s Bridge

other is of a river tranquilly running under overhanging trees and Cromwell’s bridge (see Image 3.6). It appears to be sunset as there are shades of orange and red which lie in contrast to the darker hues of the backdrop. Mary’s paintings represented a time for seclusion and escape. A photo in the album that I treasure most of all (see Image 3.7) is of Mary fishing from a small boat on the Murray River seemingly alone but somewhere outside the edges of the photograph lurks the photographer. She is adorned in a long-sleeved white muslin dress with a sweet collar pinned with a brooch to make a V-shape around her neckline. A sunhat wrapped in a headscarf is placed next to her. Her shoes are white lace-ups, and there is the trace of her petticoat where her dress is slightly pinched on to her right shoe. Mary’s hair is tied back in a French roll and has a ribbon around its perimeter. She is quietly poised as she rests with her body turned side on. The fishing line is lightly clutched between her two hands as she focuses on fishing in soft ladylike solitude. The photo album for me as a granddaughter refracts the warmth of my grandmother’s demeanour and reminds me of my mother description of her mother as ‘a lovely looking girl’. The aesthetics of the photo appeal to me, her granddaughter. There is a dreamy and surreal feel to the photo. The photograph encapsulates the currents, the gentle movements, of the river but in juxtaposition the feminine representation appears passive, still and intent. Mary is placed centrally in the photo yet she is located at the bow of the boat so the photographer can capture her whole persona. In the photo, the water meets the horizon of the photo and leaves the onlooker to imagine its expanse. Nevertheless, Mary’s demure composure is a complete and integral part of the snapshot. She appears active yet delicate in her white soft clothing against the timber of the boat, and the shadowy backdrop of the water and the sky. The photo leaves me, Mary’s granddaughter, with a whimsical image of Mary as a young woman. There is an elegance about her that fits with a fairy tale. Yet this is only one of the many representations of Mary, my grandmother, which can be gathered from the pages of the album and the stories that are told about her. The fictive images,

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Image 3.7 Early twentieth century photo of Mary fishing on the Murray River from her album

that are such long-lasting recollections of the past, seem fragile and unreal. It is to be remembered that these interpreted images belong as much to the imagination of Mary’s granddaughter as they do to the imaginary past.

A Religious Shadow Throughout my grandmother’s photo album, images are dispersed that represent her deep-seated faith in Catholicism. There is a photo of the Catholic church at Yarrawonga in northern Victoria encased by a white picket fence (see Image 3.8). The fence represents the physical as well as psychical boundaries that Catholicism established to make sure that Catholics remained separate from non-Catholics. Irigaray (1993a) writes that ‘Many of us are under the impression that all we have to do is not enter a church, refuse to practice the sacraments, and never read the sacred texts in order to be free from the influence of religion on our lives’ (p. 23). She discusses the separation of church from state which supports what she names an ‘illusion’. She goes onto write that ‘this does not solve the problem of how

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Image 3.8 Yarrawonga Church, February 1922

significant the influence of religion upon culture is’ (p. 23). The photos leave me in no doubt that Margaret and Mary’s minds and bodies were shaped by a Catholic belief system. Pillars and shrines of Catholicism shrouded the constitution of Margaret and Mary as mother and daughter just as they were to shroud the lives of their offspring. Another photo shows a priest posed stoically in a garden setting (see Image 3.9). He stood as a pillar of the Catholic church. Then there are other photos of nuns taken in the grounds of Yarrawonga convent (see Image 3.10). Nuns were not regarded as ‘pillars of the church’ but rather viewed as ‘brides of Christ’. Their identities were tied to a male signifier. The nuns Image 3.9 Priest at Yarrawonga

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Image 3.10 Nun at Yarrawonga

are covered in dark clothing from top to toe except for a white starched penguin collar that circumferences their faces. As a cultural monolith, Catholicism enshrined these women’s familial, personal and psychical being just like the white starched collar girthed their faces. Even though I was raised in a strong Catholic tradition, my mother tells the story of how her grandmother’s mother was not a Catholic but rather of the Lutheran faith. Grandma was a Catholic, a good Catholic. But the story is that her parents, her father was a Catholic, but her mother was a Lutheran. They arranged that if the first child was a boy, the family would be brought up Catholics, and if the first child was a girl, they would follow their mother’s religion. In any case, the first one was a boy and this Lutheran mother trained these children, there were eight in all; four boys and four girls and disciplined them and brought them up to be really good Catholic people (Interview 1995).

Irigaray’s work is concerned with the re-exploration of dominant images of the mother–daughter relationship and represents ‘woman’ as, and beyond, her function in maternity. This provides an opportunity to document a genealogy of women, a history of maternal connections that have remained largely hidden by more prevailing histories. Irigaray reconceptualises the woman that any mother is and recovers for her a history and context that has been eschewed by her positioning within maternity. She contends that maternity has served to ignore the specificity of

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women’s identity and social positioning by solely associating femininity with reproduction and nurturance (Grosz, 1989). My great-great-grandmother’s story of maternity which involved an arrangement between her husband and herself over the religious upbringing of their offspring shows how maternity can function to cover over, elide other female histories; in this case a Lutheran belief system that was held by my great-great-grandmother. My project of (re) creating a less well documented maternal past has traced a maternal genealogy that entails a different form of religious belief than that which I was raised by, and within. It offers another religious chapter in the maternal family history that was in reach but needed to be retrieved from my mother’s memory.

Friendship Focusing in on families and personal relationships can assist with understanding and gaining insight into how women constitute notions about others and themselves relationally (Lucey, 2010). Female friendships shape individual identities and a sense of the self as a woman (Crépel, 2014). My grandmother’s photo album provides a glimpse into the horizontal genealogies of women as well as the horizontal. Irigaray contends that it is necessary to construct an ethical order among women that has at least two dimensions. The vertical one is the mother–daughter axis and the horizontal one is the axis of sisterhood (Muraro, 1994). Irigaray (1993b) reminds us ‘Let us not forget, moreover, that we already have a history that certain women, despite all the cultural obstacles, have made their mark upon history and all too often have been forgotten by us’ (p. 19). Irigaray is referring to the work of other women and in a feminist fashion woman who have impacted on our biographical or historical pasts (Muraro, 1994). The photo album shows my grandmother Mary’s premarital years of frivolity and fun which she shared with her best friend Vera (see Image 3.11). As my mother and I talked about the photos in the album, history of female friendship came into view. Vera was Mary’s best friend and my mother related stories of the beginnings of their friendship two women, Vera was left an orphan about the age of eight and her Uncle took her, he was a priest. He was the parish priest of Yarrawonga. He took Vera and put her in boarding school with the nuns at Yarrawonga … and they reared her. Then he was moved to… Beechworth at one time. Aunty Mary had a family of boys and she would invite Vera for the holidays. And that’s how they met … They had lovely holidays together during their school days (Interview 1995).

Mary and Vera’s early twentieth-century life as young modern women reflect the social and cultural history of this time. They were young women coming out into a community bound by extended family and the Catholic church. Vera’s uncle the priest provided Vera with a home and through his association with Aunty Mary, holidays with my grandmother. Other photos in the album suggest that Vera and

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Image 3.11 Mary and Vera with box Brownie cameras

Mary engaged not only with the subordinate and obedient aspects of growing up Catholic and female but moreover, also with the rebellious traits of their youth. There are playful photographs that show the rebellious traits of youth with them dressed in fashionable clothing and Vera smoking (see Image 3.12). They are with young men appearing light-hearted and flirtatious (see Image 3.13). The old sepia photographs narrate a story of young sweethearts and the beginnings of a lifelong friendship between two women. This narrative of friendship symbolises a generative process in that it modelled and exemplified to my mother and myself what connections between women can entail. Through Mary and Vera’s relationship we learned how very special and supportive connections can be between women. Despite generational differences in social, economic, cultural and material circumstances parallels and similarities endure in the meanings given to female friendships across the generations. For the book is not only grounded in the vertical relationships between mother and daughter but an underlying theme is the horizontal relationships between women and between sisters.

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Image 3.12

Vera smoking

Image 3.13 sweetheart

Vera with her

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Conclusion Part of the task for me as a granddaughter, through studying the photos and listening to my mother’s and aunt’s stories, was to develop an appreciation of who my grandmothers were, and how they functioned within the social, cultural and religious mores of their times. It is not possible to tell from these selected photographic images and stories of my maternal past whether these women lived peacefully within the confines of the traditions and values of their day or if, at times, they felt hemmed in by structures and belief systems that constrained their everyday lives. Even If there were events and relationships which cast shadows over their lives, they appeared happy and composed in the leaves of the album, and vibrant in the stories that were told. The stories and photographs in this chapter exemplify slippage between chronological age and roles: mother/daughter/grandmother. One of the ways in which the photos and stories connect generations of women is as daughters. That is, the maternal lineage has no beginning and no end as women who mother are still positioned on this continuum as daughters (Lucas, 1998). My desire to gain a better understanding of my maternal heritage is tenacious. I love finding out more about my grand/mothers’ lives and the endurance of their lineage. The photographs add vivacity and realness to their existence yet can be understood in a myriad of ways. Perhaps, because in the case of the family photograph, there are many cultural, ideological and historical pieces that constitute a subjectivity which is familial and relational (Hirsch, 1997). My quest to expose aspects of a maternal genealogy is not complete with the etching of these brief accounts of their lives. This lineage is in a continuous motion of flux with the recollection of memories and the telling of tales throughout this book [and post its publication].

References Allan, J. (1986). Evidence and silence: Feminism and the limits of history. In C. Pateman & E. Gross (Eds.), Feminist challenges: Social and political theory (pp. 173–189). Sydney & London: Allen & Unwin. Bartlett, A., & Henderson, M. (2016). What is a feminist object? Feminist material culture and the making of the activist object. Journal of Australian Studies, 40(2), 156–171. https://doi.org/10. 1080/14443058.2016.1157701. Binns, V. (1979). Extracts from a discussion between Vivienne Binns and Helen Grace, with comments by other contributors from the project. Art Network, 1(1), 20. Crépel, A. L. (2014). Friendships: Shaping ourselves. International Journal of Philosophical Studies, 22(2), 184–198. https://doi.org/10.1080/09672559.2014.896631. Grosz, E. (1989). Sexual subversions: Three French feminists. St Leonards, NSW: Allen & Unwin, Hirsch, M. (1997). Family frames: Photography, narrative and postmemory. Cambridge & London: Harvard University Press. Irigaray, L. (1993a). Je, tu, nous: Towards a culture of difference (A. Martin, Trans.). New York & London: Routledge.

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Irigaray, L. (1993b) Sexes and genealogies (G. Gill, Trans.). New York: Columbia University Press. Kingston, B. (1994). Women in nineteenth century Australian history. Labour History, 67, 84–96. Kinsey, F. (2011). Reading photographic portraits of Australian women cyclists in the 1890s: From costume and cycle choices to constructions of feminine identity. International Journal of the History of Sport, 28(8–9), 1121–1137. https://doi.org/10.1080/09523367.2011.567767. Lucas, R. (1998). Telling maternity: Mothers and daughters in recent women’s fiction. Australian Feminist Studies, 13(27), 35–46. Lucey, H. (2010). Families, siblings & identities. In M. Wetherell & C. T. Mohanty (Eds.), The Sage handbook of identities (pp. 476–491). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Miller, D. (2010). Stuff. Cambridge: Polity. Minh-ha, T. (1999). Cinema interval. New York & London: Routledge. Muraro, L. (1994). Female genealogies. In C. Burke, N. Schor, & M. Whitford (Eds.), Engaging with Irigaray: Feminist philosophy and modern European thought (pp. 317–334). New York: Columbia University Press. Rentschler, R. (2007). Painting equality: Female artists as cultural entrepreneurial marketers. Equal Opportunities International, 26(7), 665–677. https://doi.org/10.1108/02610150710822302. Russell, P. (1993). In search of woman’s place: An historical survey of gender and space in nineteenth-century Australia. Australasian Historical Archaeology, 11(1), 28–33. Stanley, L. (1990). Feminist praxis: Research, theory and epistemology in feminist sociology. London: Routledge.

This chapter draws on material from Keary, A. (2013). De/Composing Gran’s photo album. Cultural Studies, 27(6), 955–981. Keary, A. (2017). ‘Familiar friends’: Catholic mother–daughter narratives. Culture and Religion. https://doi.org/10.1080/14755610.2017.1287108.

Chapter 4

Girls and Catholic Education Anne Keary and Kirsten Hutchison

Abstract The focus of this chapter is on how three generations of Catholic mothers and daughters think back on their Catholic education. Insights are gleaned into the expectations that mothers have of Catholic education for their daughters, how mothers and daughters understand their experiences of schooling, and in what way dis/connections between the values espoused at school and in the home shape women’s lives and interpersonal relationships. Case histories of five family groups are analysed according to their perceptions of shifting values, morals and ethics in education between the 1920s and early twenty-first century. What is shared across these family groupings is that all three generations were educated at Catholic schools. Social, religious and historical demarcation lines are re/drawn within, and between, the various educational journeys these women experienced. It is argued that relationships with religion are not fixed, rather these women continue to make choices in relation to the spiritual ideals, principles and ethics derived from their Catholic education.

Introduction Most of the first generation of women in this study attended Catholic schools in the 1920s–1940s. These schools were situated in a range of urban, regional and rural locations throughout Australia. Two women of this generation were from Anglican backgrounds with the former being educated in Perth, Western Australia and the latter in rural NSW. The second generation of women attended middle-class Catholic girls’ secondary colleges in the leafy south-eastern suburbs of Melbourne during the 1960s and 70s. This generation’s education and relationship with their mothers was impacted upon by socio-historical events and libertarian cultural movements such as feminism and protests against the Vietnam War. Within the Catholic church, a liberalising event that took place was Vatican II. The Second Vatican Council was initiated by Pope John XXIII and its objective was to align the Church’s institutions and teachings to a more contemporary context and expand the appeal and reach of Catholicism. Liberalising changes in the church constitution, decrees and pronouncements that resulted as a consequence of Vatican II were © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. Keary, Education, Work and Catholic Life, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-8989-4_4

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imparted by the Vatican Council between 1962 and 1965 with the focus being on spiritual renewal (Lesko, 1988). The third generation of young women was, and for some continue to be, educated in a diversity of contexts. While some young women followed in their mothers’ footsteps, others had alternative educational experiences that were beyond the religious ethos that shaped their mothers’ formative years. In this chapter, the viewpoints of three generations of five groups of mother and daughters are represented and analysed according to their perceptions of shifting values, morals and ethics in education between the 1920s and early twenty-first century. What distinguishes these family groupings from other research participants is that all three generations attended Catholic schools. The interview data set for this chapter reflects the social, religious and historical demarcation lines that are re/ drawn within the various educational journeys these women experienced. How religious gendered identity is constructed by, and through, Catholic education and maternal relationships is central to the analysis in this chapter. First, the ways in which ‘pedagogies of everyday life’ (Luke, 1996) inform a Catholic religious upbringing will be examined through the lenses of intergenerational experiences and perceptions of schooling by Patricia, a research participant from generation 1. In 1995, Patricia, then 62, was interviewed with her two daughters. In 2016, Patricia and her daughter Pauline participated in a second interview, together with Pauline’s three daughters, aged between 9 and 22. Following this temporal overview, the chapter explores the ways in which these Catholic mothers pursue schooling for their daughters that supports and extends the values espoused in their families. Finally, the chapter analyses the spiritual aspects of girls’ education, in an examination of the ways in which women come to understand the development of religious identities as they change over time.

Catholic Girls’ Education Across Three Generations

Location—Star of the Sea College, Gardenvale

Anne:

Our mothers actually went to the same school in Richmond-Vaucluse Convent. I think your mother went there a bit before my mum. Ronnie: Also under different circumstances. My mum had always wanted to join the convent, but her father wouldn’t sign the papers that were required. So, she went to Vaucluse, but then pulled out when she realised that her family couldn’t afford for her to continue. Anne: My mum had a very happy time at Vaucluse. Certainly, it was expected that she would conform to the conventions and religious mores of the day. Her two sisters Inez and Patricia also went to Vaucluse.

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This chapter explores changes in the personal and spiritual aspects of the lives of five groups of grand/mothers and daughters. One of the main aims of this chapter is to problematise and question the allegedly taken for granted and unmistakable dominance of the masculinist belief systems of Catholicism and offer a space for other interpretive options. Across time, the interview data shows that the women represented in this chapter responded differently to the religious teaching and learning encounters experienced within their homes and schools. Bulbeck (1997) writes about how differences in women’s responses to opportunities and challenges in their lives may be a consequence of: … their own generational position whether grandmother, mother or daughter; their resources and upbringing which often had much to do with ethnicity and class; the trajectory of their lives…. Ultimately, women also brought their own individual personalities to these possibilities … (p. 3).

Similarly, we demonstrate that each woman in this chapter has her own unique story to tell, which is framed by the Catholic teachings of the period, and the challenges to those beliefs from a range of social and cultural movements. We begin with Patricia’s historical interpretation of the religious pedagogy and curriculum that shapes Catholic education from the 1920s to current times. As a grand/mother she offered a rich account of changes in the way Catholicism has been taught across her lifetime. In 2016, in conversation with her daughter and three granddaughters, she provided a synopsis of how the teaching of religious doctrine in Catholic girls schools changed continually for three generations of young women within her own maternal family. She began by describing the strict routines of her Catholic education, which presented impressionable young women with a set of values to guide them through life: Well, I think the way we were brought up was fairly strict, and it was more a case of this is the way you did things. There was a set of rules … and they were the rules to follow… But apart from that, the teaching at the school was run on a very strict basis of routines such as changing of shoes and lots of odds and ends… It was a case of wearing the right stockings to school and the right shirts and the right tie and all these very strict ways. But … it was a great sense of good; values stuck with most of us as we grew older.

Patricia in her interview remembered the everyday rituals which marked her Catholic school days. The Catholic Ladies College was a site where she was constructed, and constructed herself, within a specific version of femininity that was corporeal. The rules associated with the wearing of the school uniform marked her mind and body. Patricia viewed the uniform as symbolic of a value system. Like Anne, the co-author’s mother Marie (Patricia’s older sister), ‘through the rituals of everyday school life she was learning to occupy the position of “lady” and how to engrave her body to conform to that space…’ (Keary, 2015, p. 193). …we had a medal around our bosom, around our necks and that was a ‘Child of Mary’ medal. If you were a ‘Child of Mary’ you were one of the senior pupils of the school, one of the responsible pupils (Interview 1995).

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The school uniform (see Image 4.1) represented a performance of dressing up. Kuhn (1995, p. 51) suggests that ‘Dressing up as opposed to mere dressing implies… a more than purely functional attitude towards clothes: its points to the element of display, of performance, inherent in certain relation to dress’. Dressing (up) is associated with the construction of gender (Kuhn, p. 52). Catholic social and cultural practices were inscribed onto the body through the way these young women represented themselves to their families, the school and the community through the uniform. The uniform imprinted on young women’s bodies a form of social and religious status. Craik (1993) suggests, ‘… clothing creates a ‘face’ which positively constructs an identity rather than disguising a ‘natural’ body or ‘real’ identity’ (p. 13). These Catholic girls were being inducted into the practices and rituals of the Catholic church in a myriad of ways. In a book exploring the history of one Australian Catholic school from the mid-1940s to 1965, Trimingham-Jack (2003), taking a similar approach, explains how rather than being educated to lead the church, girls were positioned as the ‘handmaidens of the church’ (p. 31) who would fulfil their duties as good wives and mothers. Marie spoke in 1995 of how, ‘If you were a Child of Mary you were one of the senior pupils of the school, one of the responsible pupils. …I got knocked back several times for being immature’. The medal around Marie’s neck represented the role she took on as ‘handmaiden of the church’, showing that she belonged to the select group known as the ‘Children of Mary’ and later identified by their blue cloaks. The Virgin Mary was the central icon upheld by Anne’s mother as a model of virtue for young women. The idealisation of Mary symbolised a form of purity that young women were to take into adulthood. Trimingham-Jack (2003) writes, ‘The body was something to be hidden and controlled; human sexuality, “a burden of

Image 4.1 A series of photographs of three generations of women from Anne (co-author’s family) in their school uniforms demonstrating the similarities across time in Catholic school girls’ dress codes. The photographs from left to right are Marie (Generation 1) in the 1930s, Bernadette (Generation 2) in the 1950s and Sarah (Generation 3) in the 2000s

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potential sinfulness”… (p. 32). Marie’s so-called ‘immaturity’, her childishness, her unformed womanhood, she perceived as slowing her progress towards being a senior pupil and a ‘Child of Mary’. In her eyes, her immaturity lay at the margins of good Catholic womanhood. As a result of Vatican II, the ‘Children of Mary’ was seen to be outdated and took on a renewed focus as the ‘Legion of Mary congregation’. This militaristic term continued to reference the disciplined, docile mind and body of a future ‘handmaiden of the church’. The disciplined body pictured in the photos above reflects the development of the ‘good Catholic woman’. The sweet demeanour of the schoolgirls in their uniforms provides an impression of ‘goodness’. The social order of school life across the eras seemed to offer a haven for growth of ‘good’ women, albeit within a contested range of understandings concerning what this might mean. As Trimingham-Jack (2003) claims ‘Not all women who grew up in this period and attended Catholic schools went on to conform to the traditional model of a “good woman”: in adulthood, many refused to be obedient to men, to the church and to practices associated with being “ladies:” (p. xii).

Generational Shifts Patricia went onto say that for the second generation of young women, her daughters, there were changes in the style of religious teaching in Catholic schools. In contrast to focusing on an abstract, ethereal God, there was movement towards a value system focused more on social awareness and caring for others. Patricia explained: [The schooling for my generation] was more centred on God being far more distant. For the next generation…it was a case of finding God right here within yourselves; there was even a change in the way you prayed. We went to church and it was filled with awe and reverence, and there was a distance between the altar and the people. [Church rituals and ceremonies] were brought closer to help people participate. But with that, came an emphasis on social work rather than on the awe and presence, and the wonder of God. So, it was more of a case of helping one another and bringing God [to you] in that way (Interview 2016).

Patricia viewed the religious principles taught to her daughters, during the 1960s and 70s, as concentrated on finding God within yourself. This era signified a period of liberation and freedom of thought in the broader society as well as in the Catholic church as signified by Vatican II. Patricia argued that for this generation, religious education engaged with the notion of ‘social work’ and was concerned with educating girls to help others. It involved learning about one’s inner resources by searching for understandings of ‘the self’. The idea was for young women to find God within themselves. According to Patricia, this idea of focusing in on the self is still central to the Catholic religious instruction imparted to the third generation. For this generation, religious education has taken on a more socially aware perspective. Patricia elaborated:

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4 Girls and Catholic Education Now I think for the grandchildren, it’s been a case of following along with that social work style of teaching, to be very aware of the other… helping one another… Prayer is part of it… for the younger grandchildren’s [schooling] there is a need to make time for meditation. Life has got so busy… schools are setting aside time for meditation and possibly a little bit of meditation in prayer (Interview 2016).

Patricia believed that issues of social justice are a feature of religious education in contemporary times. As with her own generation, there is a space for prayer in her granddaughters’ classroom routine. Prayer is more likely to be situated within the self rather than externally located in an abstract symbol as it was when Patricia was growing up. Patricia proposed that ‘meditation through prayer’ was a means for Catholic schools to respond to the business and demands of contemporary times. Patricia’s conversations provide a historicised view of intergenerational changes in religious education. This historical overview contextualises the ensuing discussion of women’s experiences and expectations of growing up Catholic. To be partially revealed is how Catholicism was, and is, embraced and refuted, appropriated and usurped by a particular group of Australian women.

Contesting Enduring Values In this section, the choices women make for their daughters’ schooling are considered. The story of Catholic girls and education is grounded by the relational aspects of schooling. These connect with the moral and ethical teachings that mothers desire for their daughters. Concern for others is enmeshed with the pedagogical ethical and moral dimensions constituting schooling and family experiences for Catholic girls. Two mother–daughter groups discuss the dynamics and undercurrents of intergenerational schooling choices; Mona (Generation 1) and Sue (Generation 2) and Francis (Generation 1) and her twin daughters Helen and Anne (Generation 2) (See Tables of Participants in Prologue). In 1995, Sue spoke with her mother Mona, sister and the interviewer Anne about her views on what Catholic schooling might offer her two daughters. She deliberated on the value system and moral code of a Catholic education in comparison to that of government and other private educational institutions. Sue explained: … my youngest child … hates anything to do with religion and has been telling me for several years now that there is no God and it’s all a load of nonsense and why do I want her to go (to a Catholic school). … I want her to grow up in an environment where there is a clear moral code …where she is supported by my values… they’re not necessarily church values. I think for me that’s very important for the girls to have (Interview 1995).

Mona, as a grandmother, in conversation with Sue, suggested that values are not just learned at school but need to be modelled for children. Sue agreed but clarified that her concern was not whether her daughters established formal connections with the Catholic church rather, how schooling could extend her own value system.

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Mona responded ‘Children are looking for something to hang on to when things get tough … If you haven’t got anything, you’re floundering…’ In another mother–daughter exchange Helen (Generation 2) asked her mother Francis (Generation 1) “What did you hope your daughter would gain from a Catholic education? Francis commented: It was very hard for me to sort out what I hoped to teach my children myself… and what I hoped a Catholic education would give them. It’s the same for me, I can’t sort out really what I learnt from my parents and what I learnt from school. But I can say … that one of the things expected from a Catholic education is that the school will reinforce your values ideals and hopes for your children (Interview 1995).

Like Mona, Francis believed Catholic education should provide an extension of the values espoused in the home. She continued: My parents were particularly strong on honesty and generosity, not so much giving away money, because we were quite poor… Certainly they taught me the value of honesty and generosity more from the point of view of not speaking ill of people…. I can remember my parents impressing on me… not being mean to other people and not taking advantage of other people (Interview 1995).

Francis explained how her parents taught her the values of honesty and generosity which were reinforced through her schooling. In relation to her own daughters’ schooling, Francis wanted continuity of values education across home and school. Francis, like Sue, felt that a Catholic school would provide this consistency. She remarked, ‘At a Catholic or Presbyterian or any other type of church school, you are more likely to get staff with the same values. You hope that the ethos of the school will encourage those values’. In the ensuing 20 years between interviews, Francis and her daughters’ central ideas about the teaching of values and ethics in schools had not changed. However, in the 2016 interviews, there was a blurring between what a Christian, Catholic and even secular education could provide. When re-interviewed in 2016, Francis’ ideas had not changed about the consistency of values education across home and school, but she began to question whether there were any differences between the values taught at Catholic and non-Catholic schools: I’m a firm believer that parents and teachers are the role models … I wanted my children to go to a school that had the same values I held…They were taught to think about others in the world and the community and that people have different ideas. At any school, Catholic or non-Catholic, I would think they are pretty much teaching the same thing, aren’t they? Aren’t they teaching people to live a good life in society, to be honest? I think all schools teach the same sort of thing… (Interview 2016).

Helen, her daughter in conversation with her sister Anne commented on how she views herself as a Christian who wants to maintain the religious practices which were part of her upbringing. ‘I look at myself as a Christian … I’m the one who gets us all together on Christmas Eve and says, “We need to go to church tonight”’. Helen on the one hand viewed herself as a Christian rather than a Catholic but made

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the choice to attend Catholic services with her family on Christmas Eve. This is because Catholic mass was a family Christmas ritual. The idea of ‘belonging’ is a personal belief in God which does not necessarily equate with church attendance or participation (Davie, 1994). Furthermore, Day (2012) contends that the ‘concept of belonging relocates Christian identity as a public, social act’ (p. 27) such as attendance at a Christmas Eve church service. She discusses how Christians may not believe in God but still maintain their religious roots and culture. It is not totally clear where Helen positions herself, as a Christian who attends a Catholic mass with her family as a Christmas tradition. This points to the limits of the interview process as a form of truth-telling. Helen further revealed the distinction she makes between Catholicism and Christianity when talking about deciding where to send her daughter to secondary school. Helen wanted a school that was Christian, and she found this in her old alma mater: When the decision was made to send my daughter to secondary school …I went and had a look [at my old school] and it just felt right. Since the ‘70s when I was there life had not changed at this school. I still believe this school doesn’t really push Catholicism as such. It’s part of the Christian community rather than a Catholic one (Interview 2016).

The mother–daughters in their conversations discussed the importance of relations with others or ‘the domain of ethics’ (Grosz, 1989, p. 84). Not only do Sue and Helen foreground the importance of a relational culture; they also believe in the relational aspect of the mother–daughter dyad and the continuity it can provide in terms of a value system.

Prayer and Meditation: A Short Time Out of the Day This section shares women’s memories to ‘create a conversation about the diversity of Catholic girlhood experience’ (DelRosso, 2005, p. 14) rather than attempting to portray a myth of sameness. Across the three generations of women, there was a range of opinions and responses to recollections of Catholic schooling. The stories ranged from tales about the heart of the story to narratives explaining background histories, with attitudes towards religion in an everchanging state of flux (DelRosso). The women in this study had individual stories as well as collective tales to tell across the two phases of interviews which were 20 years apart. They looked back on Catholic schooling in different ways at various periods of time. The point is that women’s perspectives on Catholic schooling are diverse, occasionally contradictory and at times, conflicted; locations from which women recall Catholicism as a ‘vehicle of repression, of subversion or of liberation’ (DelRosso, p. 12). As researchers in this chapter, we contextualise the women’s histories without attributing a consistent gendered religious identity. Kristeva (1987) contends that Catholic discourse shrouds the feminine within notions of pious reproduction and a patriarchal perspective of the maternal. She draws attention to the unattainable

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representation of the Virgin Mary in Catholic theology. This virginal image limits the representation of women within Catholicism. This implausible representation of the maternal conceals the specificities of women’s identity and how she is situated within the social. In this section, the way in which this image of the Virgin Mary represses and subverts women is explored. Nevertheless, some women create a spiritual and quiet feminine space through their adoration of Mary.

First Holy Communion Anne, the co-author’s, mother Marie passed away in 1995. With her three sisters, she carefully wrapped a range of precious items that had been stored on the top shelf of their mother’s wardrobe. These items included a first holy communion veil which had been passed down from sister to sister for that auspicious religious occasion. The holy communion attire (see Image 4.2) was consistent across the generations with the white bridal type dress. Marie (Generation 1) and Bernadette (Generation 2) wore knee length dresses with a lacy veil and shiny patent shoes of black or white. Sarah (Generation 3) wears a slightly different dress perhaps because her first holy communion took place in Darwin in the Northern Territory of Australia where the climate is hot and humid. Shoes were replaced with sandals, a knee length dress with a longer one and the lacy veil is absent. Regardless, this outfit represented a young girl’s projected future as a ‘bride of Christ’. Vecchiona (1992) in a poem describes how many things happened simultaneously at her first holy communion. As with the photos of the three generations of women, Vecchiona mentions the ‘quiet little dolls’ symbolised by the sweetness of the girls in their first holy communion photos. Vecchione remarked on the hidden priest in the confessional whose powerful positioning in the church remains unquestioned. Excerpt from First Communion by Vecchiona (1992, p. 15) A 100 other little girls walk down the aisle of the church. We had practiced the walk. We had invented sins to tell the hidden priest. I could never tell the wooden man what I’d really done. We are as complacent and quiet as dolls. There isn’t actually a first memory. Rather, there exists a collection of things All happening at the same time. I can’t distinguish Anyone in the picture, except for myself And a series of formless shadows Behind the trees.

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Image 4.2 A series of photographs depicting similarities in the First Holy Communion attire across three generations. The photographs from left to right are Marie (Generation 1) in the 1930s, Bernadette (Generation 2) in the 1950s and Sarah (Generation 3) in the 2000s. The positioning of the Priest holding onto Sarah has been photo shopped out for privacy reasons

Some Titles of Our Lady

The children spent much time labouring over their script, in pencil as infants and later using a pen dipped in ink. Infant students learned running writing almost from the start… the writing card models, aside from being examples of how to form each letter, were a means of introducing the children to literature, the Bible and history as well as general knowledge (Trimingham-Jack, 2003, p. 29).

Writing practice was a very important part of the curriculum in Catholic religious education in the first half of the twentieth century. An item that Anne, the co-author came across during the writing of this chapter was an exercise book of her mother’s that was written in a beautifully hand-written cursive script. The book was entitled ‘Some Titles of Our Lady’ (see Image 4.3 for excerpt from book). The crafted writing was accompanied by holy pictures that illustrated the version of ‘Our Lady’ that was being told. Patricia, Marie’s younger sister, told the story of the mother–daughter effort which went into creating the book:

Some Titles of Our Lady

Image 4.3

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Photograph of Marie’s religious education book showing an excerpt of her writing

Well, the book is beautifully made. I guess with that printing maybe it was about year eight and she wrote all about those particular pictures which depict aspects of Mary’s love. I remember Marie finding those pictures… Gran helped her. The two of them worked on the project [together] to find suitable pictures (Interview 2016).

In 2018, Rosie (Generation 3) was re-interviewed with her mother Trish (Generation 2) at their coastal home in northern NSW. At this time, Rosie aged 20 was studying to be a primary school teacher at a nearby regional university. In her conversation, she remembered and spoke of the short time for reflection that took place at the Catholic co-educational secondary school she had previously attended. She talked about the meaning this quiet time had for her: So, in our school diaries we had a prayer called the Examen prayer and the teachers used to sometimes draw upon it in prayer time at school… we had Examen time before lunchtime and we just might close our eyes and reflect upon the words in the prayer. And it was just a short time out of our day, but it was nice to reflect… But I think it’s good because it can relate to all children because everyone can think of something that’s happened in their day, or what they’re grateful for. Whereas like some of the other prayers, you might just read it, but you don’t get much out of it (Interview 2016).

Trish, her mother, talked in an almost longing way about the Examen prayer and remarked that she had never ‘heard of it in all my years of Catholic schooling or from my parents’. She described it as ‘a little examination of your conscience [and] an awareness that God is there’.

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Trish, in her late 50s, reincorporated and saw value in spiritual practice and ritual although not in the same way that was presented to her as a child by her mother. Trish described to Rosie, her mother’s way of praying when she was a young child. Yes, it is interesting that I picked up [the Examen prayer] from you [Rosie]. My mother would … frequently call us into her bedroom if it was a day that anyone was doing an exam, or anyone was going on a journey… We’d kneel down at the foot of her bed. She had a picture of the Madonna … and we would say a prayer to Our Lady …Praying to Our Lady was one of her favourite things because she she’d always say: ‘Well Mary is the Mother of God, so, she has a good way of helping things happen’. Yes, but her prayers haven’t really rubbed off on me (Interview 2016).

Trish noted in this dialogue with her daughter how she has accepted the Examen prayer in Rosie’s school diary (Image 4.4). In contrast, she rejected her mother’s prayer rituals which were part of a repertoire of religious activities during her childhood. Trish, in her adult years, has reshaped her own spiritual practices, so they are not mandated but rather taken up on your own terms. Yet, the picture of the Byzantine Madonna referred to by Trish still hangs in her home to this day (see Image 4.5). The Examen prayer is about mindfulness and prayerful reflection. It is associated with Patricia’s ideas of how Catholic schooling of today provides a time for meditation. In considering the Examen prayer Trish reminisced about her mother Meg’s attendance at retreats where Trish went to school. In the 1960s and 70s, these retreats provided her mother with a time for quiet contemplation that contrasted with her daily home duties of looking after children. Trish commented on how her ideas about this period of prayer and reflection in her mother’s life changed as she grew older and experienced motherhood herself: ‘I remember thinking “oh my God,

Image 4.4

The Examen prayer in Rosie’s school diary

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Image 4.5 Trish’s Byzantine picture of the Madonna

as if you’d choose to go off for a day of prayer and reflection”. Although now I would probably love to do that. In fact, I’ve done a number of ten-day retreats’. Rosie and Trish discussed how prayer time can be meaningless. Rosie was ambivalent about the Examen prayer practice whilst Trish found value in meditation for school children: [As a child] we probably spent a lot of time saying prayers but thinking about something totally different…Prayers didn’t really have any meaning. Even going to Mass could have been like that at times… So, I think it’s good now. A lot of the Catholic primary schools I work in now have meditation every day, just for five minutes, either first thing in the morning, or after recess, or after lunch and it’s just five minutes silence and I think that’s great for the kids (Interview 2016).

These five minutes of silence which Trish described as taking place for children in Catholic primary schools connect with Patricia’s (Generation 1) suggestion that schools are setting aside time for ‘meditation in prayer’. Trish and Rosie went onto suggest that there is fluidity between Catholic religious practice and spiritual exercises. Rosie: I think [the examen prayer] is a good exercise, but I don’t usually go so far as to practice it myself … I feel like it connected me with my spiritual sense more than anything else. So, I’d classify it as a spiritual practice.

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4 Girls and Catholic Education Trish: Yet, it’s a bit like when people say ‘I’m spiritual’ but not religious… I mean you wouldn’t have to be of any religion to examine your day. Rosie: It’s not like religious, but it’s still spiritual… (Interview 2016).

Religious education for these women includes both pedagogical practices in the home and at school. The Hail Mary prayer was coupled with the Examen prayer in Rosie’s diary. The practice of praying to Mary, the mother of Jesus, was part of Trish’s mother’s prayer ritual. She created a space where she prayed to Mary. Feminist psychoanalyst Kristeva (1986) suggests that Christian imagery of maternity, as represented in the cult of the Virgin Mary, is an effort to overcome the contradictions inherent in the symbolic patriarchal stance on maternity. Maternity is both ‘respected’ and obliterated, both sexless and passionate. Irigaray (1979) argues children, men and culture rely on and take for granted the representation of the maternal. She points out that this maternal debt is renounced and renamed in man’s own self-image as religion, philosophy and absolute knowledge. These French feminist theorists argue that Catholicism does not acknowledge the debt it owes to the maternal. Still for some women in this study, Mary as Madonna and mother continues to give solace. Trish remembered her mother claiming that ‘Mary has a good way of helping things happen’. Rosie, as a representative of the third generation, was uncertain about the relevance of prayer in her life. On the one hand, she commented, ‘I don’t really take much notice of the Examen prayer’; yet, she made time for reflection: ‘everyone can think of something that’s happened in their day, or what they’re grateful for’. Trish contemplated the value of prayer in her own life. She found relevance in the Examen prayer, however, as a child she did not follow her mother’s practice of daily prayer. Trish and Rosie concluded that finding meaning in spiritual practices is important. Rosie summed up her thoughts concerning her relationship with Catholicism: Yeah, I know I’m a Catholic, but I don’t really - I’m not like a big Catholic - what do you call that? Like, I don’t go to mass a lot, so I’m not really that involved in the faith. But I’m still like - it’s still like kind of there, but just not - I don’t practice it that much (Interview 2016).

Rosie’s words suggest an uncertainty about the place of Catholicism in her own identity. She does not seem to want to identify as a Catholic, yet Catholicism shaped her schooling history and is present through her maternal lineage. Trish and Rosie distinguished between spirituality and religious practices.

Conclusion This chapter specifically examined how values, morals and ethics were taught in, and through, Catholic education and explored the centrality of mothers in shaping the spiritual identities of girls and women. Three key themes were interwoven to explore religious gendered identity and how women in hindsight find meaning in

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their perceptions and experiences of Catholic schooling. Foresight comes into play as some of the research participants discussed their desires for their own daughters’ schooling and how these aspirations connect and disconnect with their own values and principles. The key themes explored were research participants perceptions of the approaches to religious education across three generations of women, debating and questioning enduring values, morals and ethics in relation to concern for others and how spirituality is learned, contested and practiced in the home and at school. This idea of consistent values across home and school also took on a sense of ‘belonging’ yet ‘not belonging’ to the Catholic church. Generations two and three did not feel obligated to live by the teachings of the church. All three generations of women represented in this chapter understood and enacted their spirituality in their everyday lives in different ways yet, there were commonalities across their stories. The older generation as young women was conditioned into traditional beliefs, rituals and practices of Catholicism. Catholic rituals shaped their minds and bodies through sacraments such as holy communion and prayer rituals that involved asking for guidance from the Virgin Mary. In contrast, the next generation in the 1960s, a period of not only liberation in the church but also in society as a whole, experienced a more secular liberalised Catholic education that was more focused on the self. Nevertheless, the Catholic church retained its hierarchical masculinist structure in spite of these liberalising times. The youngest generation are maturing during an era in Catholic schooling where the focus, Patricia suggested, is on social justice, prayer and meditation. These young women are being asked to consider who in society has opportunities and privileges available to them whilst reflecting on their own lives. Patricia asserted the need for this generation to engage with the meditational realm of prayer to recentre themselves in the business of their daily lives. Challenges pertain to growing up and being educated Catholic. Traditional images of gendered religious identity continue to be presented to young women. Gendered religious identity is complex and, as discussed in this chapter, is represented in contained and limited ways within Catholicism. Nonetheless, intergenerational relationships with religion are not fixed and determined. Girls and women have, and continue to be, agential in their choices concerning spiritual ideals, principles and ethics derived from their Catholic education.

References Bulbeck, C. (1997). Living feminism: The impact of the women’s movement on three generations of Australian women. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Craik, J. (1993). The face of fashion: Cultural studies in fashion. London & New York: Routledge. Davie, G. (1994). Religion in Britain since 1945: Religious change in 20th century Britain. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 45(4), 567–584. Day. (2012). Believing in belonging: Belief and social identity in the modern world. Oxford Scholarship Online. https://doi.org/10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199577873.001.0001. DelRosso, J. (2005). Writing Catholic women: Contemporary international Catholic girlhood narratives. US: Palgrave Macmillan US.

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Grosz, E. (1989). Sexual subversions: Three French feminists. Sydney, Australia: Allen and Unwin. Irigaray, L. (1979). Etablir un genealogie de femmes (E. Grosz, Trans.). In E. Grosz (Ed.), Sexual subversions: Three French feminists. New York & London: Allen and Unwin. Keary, A. (2015). Catholic mothers and daughters: Becoming women. Feminist Theology, 24(2), 187–205. Kristeva, J. (1986). Women’s time. In T. Moi (Ed.), The Kristeva reader (pp. 187–213). New York: Columbia University Press. Kristeva, J. (1987/1997). Stabat Mater. In K. Oliver (Ed.), The portable Kristeva (pp. 308–330). New York: Columbia University Press. Kuhn, A. (1995). Family secrets. New York and London: Verso. Lesko, N. (1988). Symbolising society: Stories, rites and structure in a Catholic high school. London: The Falmer Press. Luke, C. (1996). Pedagogies of everyday life. New York & London: Routledge. Trimingham-Jack, C. (2003). Growing good Catholic girls: Education and convent life in Australia. Carlton: Melbourne University Press. Vecchiona, P. (1992). First communion. In A. C. Sumrall & P. Vecchione (Eds.), Catholic girls (pp. 14–16). New York: Plume.

Part II

Fluid Transitions: Continuity and Change in Education, Training and Work

Chapter 5

Education and Training, Career Aspirations: ‘That’s What I Remember’ Lucas Walsh and Anne Keary

Abstract This chapter examines trends in education and training through both individual and collective narratives of how three generations of women mediate and manage the transition to, and between, study and work. Testimonies are located within wider trends, historical contexts with sociological implications being drawn. The women’s testimonies, in the main, echo wider national trends while providing more nuanced accounts of continuity and change across, and between, generations. Early school leaving was more common for the older generations. Changes in the labour market during the twentieth century and how they impacted on school transitions are discussed. During the later twentieth century, the younger generation of women is generally more highly educated with many participating in post-school study and training. In addition, this third generation is beginning to embark on less traditionally gendered careers. For some, pathways changed across generations as new areas of study, training and work were pursued. Yet, enduring themes also emerged in relation to post school options across some mother–daughter groupings.

Introduction As this part of the book explores the non-linear pathways of women through education and work, the continuities and discontinuities evident in the testimonies of our interviewees challenge a widely held notion of ‘transition’ as it is applied to the movements of people from school to post-school life. Education—particularly schooling—is commonly associated with a key stage of transition in life. It is seen to prepare young people for work, further study and training and for life in general. We often hear about education as a pathway to these stages, a pathway to adulthood. But the efficacy or appropriateness of the transition metaphor has been questioned (Evans & Furlong, 1997; Furlong, 2009). Where we sometimes see the pathway to post-school life as linear and ‘largely taken for granted as an endpoint of youth pathways’ (Woodman & Wyn, 2015, p. 80), Valentine (2003) rightly notes that

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5 Education and Training, Career Aspirations … while the transition from childhood to adulthood is often assumed to be linear as young people move from school to work, leave the parental home and so on, many people do not move neatly from a state of dependence to independence. They might start work and then lose their job, leave home, move into rented accommodation for a while and then move back home… In this way, transitions from childhood to adulthood can be complex and fluid (p. 38).

As we shall see in the coming chapters, Valentine’s observation applies to many of our interviewees, whose pathways are far from linear. What makes the following discussion unusual is its rare insight into the lives of related women across generations, which enables us to construct a nuanced picture of how these women are shaped, and shape themselves, inter- and intra- generationally. As we situate their experiences within the wider context of trends in Australia and internationally, their stories across generations are marked by disruptions and continuities. It is important also to note that the experiences of our interviewees resist neat categorization. Their experiences reflect part of what has been called the ‘missing middle’ (Roberts, 2011). At the end of this part of the book, we will revisit whether the metaphor of transition is still applicable in light of the non-linear journeys of the interviewees. Looking at three generations of women’s testimonies, this chapter examines their education and training. It locates these testimonies within wider trends, historical context and sociological implications, which are the main focus of this discussion. The data describing these wider national trends during the past century also tells a story, with the testimonies of interviewees echoing these trends, but which sometimes describe something a bit different and more nuanced. As such, the testimonies feature aspects of continuity and change across generations. The next three chapters will unpack these by comparing and contrasting the women’s stories to the data around educational participation and attainment, areas of work and gender differences in income, amongst others. For example, reflecting wider trends in education attainment across generations, leaving school early was more prevalent in the testimonies of older participants compared with previous generations. The one exception in the first generation who completed school was seen to be exceptional. Some struggled with school and health, while others assumed key roles of family carers or needed to work to survive. But completing Year 12 was more ‘normal’ for the most recent generation, with post-school study and/or training seeming to naturally follow on from school (even if after a Gap Year). In Australia, there has been continued growth in the numbers staying in school, with school retention to Year 12 reaching an all-time high during the past decade (Robinson & Lamb, 2012). The 2017 National retention rate for all full-time students remaining in school until grade 12 was close to 85% (ABS, 2018). In recent years, more females aged 15–19 (77%) than males (70%) are in full-time education (Robinson & Lamb) and growing; for example, the participation of females in full-time education increased from 83.2% in 2010 to 85.6% in 2012, while for males’ full-time participation rose from 84.1% in 2010 to 85.4% in 2012.

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Increasing numbers from the second generation of interviewees onwards undertook study and training, many in teaching and nursing. The areas of study and training became more diverse amongst more recent participants, into areas such as law, humanities, counselling and marketing. Nevertheless, alongside change is continuity: a number pursued the same occupations as their mothers, aunties and sisters. Many studied part-time while raising families and working. A large proportion of participants talked about a desire to travel, particularly in the more recent generations. Some younger participants took gap years, with most pursuing further study and training post-school. The discussion concludes by casting an eye on post-education and training pathways, looking at social norms and expectations of young women changes during the later twentieth century alongside other changes and continuities in the workforce for women in Australia, which sets the context for the following three chapters.

School Completion and ‘Encouragement’: ‘It Was a Life I Would Have Liked’ We start with the stories told by the wider data around women’s transitions and focus in on some of the women’s stories. During the past 70 years, the transitions of young women in Australia from school to work and family can be divided into three periods: post-World War II to the mid-1970s; the mid-1970s to the 1990s; and the late 1990s to the new millennium. The post-World War II period saw the introduction of mass secondary education. In the mid-1950s, compulsory education in Australia ended at age 14, with the majority of young people leaving school at the ages of 14–15 years, having completed their Intermediate Certificate. Only a small minority, and predominantly young men, stayed to complete the equivalent of Year 12 (Vickers, 2013). Australian studies of that time, for example, the works of Connell, Francis, and Skilbeck (1957) and Cunningham (1951), emphasised both the socialisation role of schools and school graduation as a significant marker of the transition from adolescence to adulthood (Cuervo & Wyn, 2011; Sharp & Broomhill, 2005; Wilson & Wyn, 1987; Wyn, 2009). A growth in school retention rates from the mid-1960s to the 1970s coincided with a long economic boom of full employment, increasing standards of living and individual wealth, as well as rising social aspirations (Vickers, 2013). Amongst interviewees for this book, leaving school was more common in the eldest generation. Interestingly, Marie and Patricia’s mother (pre-Generation 1) matriculated but as her granddaughter, Anne pointed out, this was unusual at the time. From generation one, Aileen, Mona and Agatha left school early—

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predominantly in search of work. Their reasons varied. From the first generation of interviewees, Agatha left school early because she felt that she ‘was never a good student. I found study hard. It was a struggle’. Aileen started work when she was 14 as a machinist before moving into sales and doing ‘a bit of buying for our own business’. Like Aileen, Mona (Generation 1) left school at 14 years of age, and her story provides a window on the particular transition of a young Catholic woman at the time. It was the depression years and many men like Mona’s father were unemployed or underemployed. Mona was offered a scholarship to a well-to-do Catholic secondary convent at about the age of 12. However, she was reluctant to accept the scholarship. Mona and her mother negotiated the conditions of the scholarship with the nuns. Mona attended the school for 18 months but one day a comment by one of the nuns upset her, so she decided with a sense of dignity to leave school and enter the workforce. Mona told the story: There happened to be a nun there who I believe came from a very well to do family. She knew that my books were provided… she happened to pass an opinion one day and said some people really don’t appreciate anything, they get their books, and everything given to them. Of course, I took it straight away that this meant me, so that night I left all the books in the desk and went home and said to my mother’ I wasn’t going back to school and I was going out to get a job’. And that’s what I did (Interview 1995).

By the age of 16, all Mona really wanted to do was join the convent. She had a strong attachment to the Sisters of St. Joseph from her primary school years. Mona told her daughters, ‘It was a life I would have liked… I’m sure I had a vocation for that… a feeling for being close to God’ (Interview 1995). Convent schools in the late nineteenth–early twentieth century supported the recruitment of religious vocations from within their ranks. Having Catholic religious in the family was generally seen as a mark of social distinction. For some young women, becoming a religious novice provided better living conditions. While for others, like Mona, it was viewed in terms of a religious vocation that enabled one to become closer to God (Raftery, 2012). In Australia, the numbers of young people seeking out a religious life were strong until the 1960s (Trimingham-Jack, 2003). Mona’s father was required to sign a document for her to enter a religious order and this did not happen. Mona continued to work for her uncle until she was married, and considered herself ‘very, very lucky to have a job’ (Interview 1995). Most of the women ended up leaving work to become family carers. As Agatha said, she ‘took on marriage as a career’. We shall return to this below. Patricia who attended secondary school in the 1940s did not feel as though they had the support of their parents to pursue further study. During this period, careers counselling and guidance was not available in schools. Work was not socially endorsed for women and popular media representations considered women’s role to be in the home child rearing (Holmes, 1995).

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Location: Patricia’s’ home Patricia: … if somebody had given me some encouragement… I should have done commercial work, but instead of that they [my parents] were keen to get me out of school… [My sisters had] been good achievers… When I look back, I was every bit as intelligent as they were… and if they’d had career officers at school in those days, you would’ve gone and had a little talk to them. I found my parents were unable to guide me in that way, and I don’t blame them for that. They were unable. So, I left school and had a job. I then went to night school to learn typing, and when I turned 21 my father gave me a typewriter as a gift, and that was like, ‘You’d made a mistake when you were 15. That’s what you should have done’. In the second generation of interviewees, Maria’s daughter Adelaine also left school early, as did Kate. Unlike her two older sisters, Kate did not go to university after school. She commented in 2016: ‘I don’t think that I ever thought that I could have managed going to university back then’. Twenty years earlier in 1995, Kate told the story of how she went to dental nursing, and this allowed her to travel for periods of time. Kate then decided ‘that I’d like to do something else, so I applied and got into college to do a recreation course which was terrific’. Like her mother, Kate undertook further study later in life. Kate’s mother had matriculated from a school in rural New South Wales receiving an entry to Sydney University to undertake a physiotherapy course. Due to the early death of her father and her mother’s illness she was unable to take up the offer. However, in the 1960s after giving birth to her fourth daughter Fleur, she ‘went back to do a speech and drama course’. She noted that ‘I always knew right from the word go that I wanted to do something else with my brain. I didn’t think that I was completely fulfilled intellectually’. Kate’s mother was a strong role model for her daughters and believed that she shaped their dispositions ‘because I’ve always encouraged you to be your own person’ (Interview 1995). Cuervo and Wyn (2012) discuss the notion of ‘reflexivity’ that supports the negotiation of labour markets and educational institutions. They sum it up as ‘the capacity to make choices offered by changing institutional processes (including education and the labour market) to reach a future goal. A key aspect of reflexivity is assuming a sense of individual responsibility for how these decisions work out…’ (p. 58). Perhaps this idea of reflexivity was reflected in Kate’s decision to undertake further study and change careers. Yet, this choice is not just an individual response as it was about being her own person which her mother encouraged. Reflecting the trends outlined in the context above, early school leaving became less common in more recent generations. Changes in the labour market during the

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twentieth century impacted on school transitions. The mid-1970s to the mid-1990s were marked by a decline in the full-time labour market. More than half of all full-time jobs for teenage males and more than two-thirds of all full-time jobs for teenage females disappeared (ABS, 2002; Vickers, 2013). Globally, the labour market was changing in the wake of seismic shifts such as the removal of tariff protection for some industries and global events such as the oil crisis during the 1970s (Bessant & Cook, 1998). For young people at the time, economic and labour market conditions ‘produced a generational change in culture with young people becoming aware that without a secondary or tertiary qualification, they had minimal chances to gain access to meaningful and/or rewarding employment’ (Cuervo & Wyn, 2011, p. 16). High levels of youth unemployment in Australia, combined with the abolition of youth unemployment benefits and the introduction of Austudy, helped to more than double the apparent Year 12 retention rate, increasing from 34% in 1982 to a peak of 77% in 1992 (Lamb, 2011; Wilson, 1989; Wooden, 1996; Vickers, 2013). Youth attitudes to school were also changing. A national poll in 1984 found 69% of 15 to 24-year- olds were in favour of staying at school longer, rising significantly to 82% by 1989. If those completing Years 11 and 12 at a TAFE college were included, a further 12% would have approved (ANOP, 1988, p. 52). Braithwaite’s (1988) study of students and their parents at the time found 92% of parents and 94% of students believed it was extremely or moderately important to continue to the end of Year 12 because of the necessity and importance of ‘getting a good education’ (p. 23). There was a gender dimension to this change. The apparent retention rate of young females exceeded that of young males since 1976. By 1997, the apparent Year 12 retention rate for females was 78% compared to 66% for males (ABS, 2001; Long, Carpenter, & Hayden, 1999). Gisela Kaplan in her 1996 study of the Australian women’s movement provides a more sobering perspective on retention rates for girls. She writes, ‘One is tempted to join in the cheers of those who feel that the programs have been working and gender equity has been achieved’ (p. 180). But she contends that retention rates do not provide an accurate picture as they are a function of population expansion and true net gain as well as policies to ‘keep students out of a labour market that has little need of them’ (p. 181). She continues with a critique of schooling and suggests that ‘retention rates are no proof of a better educated society’ and ‘that most students now have to compete with others with the same high level of schooling for base-level entry into the labour force… Year 12 has become the benchmark for just about any white-collar job’ (p. 181). We will return to Kaplan’s sentiments about qualifications and competition in our discussion of Generation 3 in Chap. 6. Those young women who did not complete Year 12 tended to fare relatively worse than young men. They were less likely to be in the labour force than male non-completers; more likely to be working part-time in a narrower range of occupations; and more likely to experience lower earnings (Long et al., 1999). That post-school apprenticeships were male dominated was one reason why young

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women moved into part-time or casual jobs or looked to tertiary education as a way of improving employment prospects (Wooden, 1996). The late 1990s to the current period has seen continued growth in rates of school completion, tertiary enrolment and attainment. Though the current generation, globally, is characterised by a widespread view that education will provide the necessary knowledge and skills for young people to navigate the emergent post-industrial economy featuring uncertain and fluid employment conditions (Crofts et al., 2016; Cuervo & Wyn, 2011; Raffe, 2014; Skattebol, Hill, Griffiths, & Wong, 2015; Woodman & Wyn, 2015), this is, at times, questioned (Walsh, 2016). The women interviewed for this book affirm the view that completing secondary and higher levels of study was a necessary part of their life; a corollary of this was a concern by older generations about what kinds of work awaited their daughters after study. For some interviewees across all generations, unforeseen forces prevented them from completing school. Audrey’s daughter Andrea (Generation 2), for example, did not undertake Year 12 due to cancer treatment, but a Principal at Star of the Sea College enabled Andrea to gain her admission into an Arts Degree at Melbourne University, pursuing a career in paediatric palliative care. As mentioned above, where leaving school early was more prominent in the oldest generations, the third and most recent generation of interviewees saw the completion of Year 12 as a normal part of life. The few who did not complete school, such as Neera (Generation 3), had some form of disability. For this most recent generation, the data persistently suggests that key groups that continue to experience difficulty in transition from school to work leave school early are those who experience disability. Recent evidence suggests that young women who leave school early are more likely to withdraw from working life. In 2011, for example, 36.7% of young adult women who left school at Year 10 or below were not in the labour force. Those who completed Year 12, on the other hand, were far less likely to leave the labour force (10.2%). For young men, the figure was markedly lower at 12.2% compared to 5.4% of males who completed Year 12 (Robinson, Long, & Lamb, 2011).

Post-school Pathways: Study and Training: Shifts in Gendered Occupations and Character Traits: ‘The Boys Are Ahead’ During the later twentieth century, increasing numbers of women went on to higher education. Where less than 50,000 participated in higher education in the mid-1950s, approximately 200,000 did so by the mid-1970s. In the 1950s, only one in every five university students were female, rising to two in every five by the mid-1970s (Abbott & Doucouliagos, 2003; Norton & Cakitaki, 2016). By the late-1960s/mid-1970s, young women across different continents started to invest more in their education to ameliorate the possibility of temporary or

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short-term employment prospects immediately post-school, focusing increasingly on careers (Goldin, 2006). Women wanted both a career and family, but concentrated on their careers first (Margaloith, 2005). Women also started to gradually move into traditionally male-dominated areas of employment (Shu & Marini, 1998; Schoon & Polek, 2011). They began to perceive that their adult lives would differ substantially from those of their mothers’ generation in a ‘quiet revolution’ of female education and employment (Goldin, 2006, p. 8; Goldin & Mitchell, 2017, p. 180). Choice of tertiary courses in the later twentieth century was skewed towards certain genders, with the percentage of young women in arts/social sciences, nursing, health and education far outstripping the proportion of young men choosing these vocational paths (Dwyer, Tyler, & Wyn, 2001). Post-school transitions for young Catholic women, Andrea (Generation 2) suggested were not just about skewed gendered divisions and being ‘stream-lined’ at school; there was an ‘element of modesty‘to be upheld. She remarked If you talk to our friends, there’s this thing of ‘we just aren’t aggressive when it comes to putting ourselves forward’. The nuns always taught us go for what you want but the boys are ahead. Go towards the arts don’t go towards the sciences. Well, you could do it but unless you’re bright don’t do it. I think we were stream-lined a lot more. So, it’s a double-sided coin, it’s like be independent and achieve but also there’s a modesty element. It’s not good to boast at all (Interview 1995).

Going back a generation, this idea of modesty was extolled to women in the 1950s by the National Christian Workers’ Movement, which published a text entitled: ‘You are her mother: An instruction to mothers on how to train their daughters in modesty and how to impart sex knowledge to them’. This text offered guidance to mothers on how to raise their daughters. Character traits such as being independent, modest, carrying guilt and responsibility, a number of women from Generation 2, in particular, spoke of as being consequences of growing up and educated Catholic. Andrea suggested that these character traits, which shaped gendered identities in the 1970s, on the one hand were virtuous and on the other hand left one less assertive in the workplace. Andrea’s mother Audrey spoke of how she had a feeling her eldest daughter was ‘more Catholic than she knows’. She related a story of how her eldest daughter, ‘… said that half her problem [in her career] was that she had this guilt feeling, this sense of responsibility for all her staff, for other people… she thought it was due to her Catholic education. That shocked me. I thought have I been wrong? But I think for her it was something that I should have seen years ago and righted’ (Interview 1995). Audrey believed her daughter’s attributes were not just her own doing but as a mother she could have intervened and righted her daughter’s concerns during her secondary schooling years. Audrey’s comments relate to the work of Kelly (2006), who contends that in the 1990s particular ways of being connected with economic policies enacted in Australia. These forms of identity known as the ‘Entrepreneurial Self’ he equates with being an adult who is autonomous, responsible and integrated into

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state-condoned education and employment opportunities. Ten years later, McLeod (2017) from a pedagogical perspective asks the questions, ‘What does a ‘sense of responsibility’ mean in discussions about education today? What are the dominant terms in which responsibility is understood and how might it connect to an ethics of responsibility towards others? What kinds of pedagogical and subjectivity work does responsibility engage or oblige? How are the gendered dimensions of responsibility playing out or reconfiguring? (p. 44). McLeod concludes that there is a need to reposition responsibility as a ‘productive orientation and practice’ especially with the precarity of the workforce in contemporary times that ‘demands for care, interdependence and relational responsibility – towards others, not the self’ (p. 43). Debra (Generation 3) discussed the idea of responsibility towards others. She knew her mother had a Catholic upbringing but ‘she didn’t really talk about that’. For schooling, Debra attended an International boarding school in India that focused on spiritual meditation. When asked if she belongs to any communities, she talked about how she was brought up to contribute to communities and the sense of guilt when she has nothing to give. Debra said You have your work community and there’s other communities… [where] there’s so many likeminded people. We congregate and I’m not like a full-on member or anything. I like to just pop my head in here and pop my head in there, but I don’t have a stable home so that I can support these people. I think it’s from my upbringing if you go to someone’s house you bring something, you should contribute but then sometimes you’re travelling so much, and you don’t feel like you have anything to bring so you feel so guilty. I don’t feel like I should eat because it’s like I didn’t get anything on the table or make anything but and like you – if you bring yourself and you bring happiness to this group that’s also a gift as well.

McLeod (2017) discusses the ‘insecurities and divisiveness of contemporary life’ (p. 54). However, this so-called modern-day precarity, it is suggested, has taken different forms and has been enacted in various ways across the three generations of women who participated in this study. From a pedagogical perspective, schools and families appeared to instil a notion of responsibility towards others. This imparting of values counteracted the economic rationalist argument of the ‘entrepreneurial self’. Nevertheless, this sense of carrying guilt, which a number of women spoke of in their testimonies, requires consideration. For some young women ‘a feeling of guilt’ produces a form of religious and ideological confusion (Hajda, 2014) that adds yet another layer to person-making attributes that shape their sense of self. Another perspective to consider is social mobility and status in the workforce. Revisiting a body of feminist scholarship, Kaplan (1996) points out that improved education does not necessarily equate with upward mobility in status or income. She draws on the work of Meredith (1987) who provides the example of nurses, a gendered workforce, who were once trained on the job in hospitals. In the 1980s, this scenario changed and to enter a nursing course Year 12 or equivalent to undertake a University nursing degree. However, this did not lead to higher wages or a better job than previous generations.

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Even though the topic did not arise in the interviews, in Australia a major change occurred in higher education policy during the 1970s. From January 1974, the Whitlam government introduced free tertiary education. Holmes and Thomson (2017) write Whitlam’s association with free tertiary education has become a key narrative trope about the higher education sector in the 1970s. People … who came of age during this period, and did not have tertiary educated parents, frequently attributed their capacity to enter higher education to the abolition of fees (p. 13).

Some of the older members of Generation 2 were impacted upon by this change, although many women in this study at this time undertook nursing or teaching training rather than University courses. Free tertiary education continued until 1989 when the Higher Education Contribution Scheme (HECS) was introduced by the Hawke Labour government. In 2007, HECS became known as Commonwealth Supported Places (CSP). For Generation 3, CSP appeared to be an entrenched aspect of undertaking study—once again not commented on by interviewees. For Generation 2, paying higher education fees to, for example, to upgrade their qualifications from a Diploma to Degree or Masters became a fact of life. By the 1990s, participation in tertiary education continued to increase, particularly for young women and those from higher socio-economic status backgrounds, (Andres & Wyn, 2010; Dwyer, Smith, Tyler, & Wyn, 2003; White & Wyn, 2013). The proportion of female to male enrolments rose from just over 30% in 1975 to more than 50% by the 1990s, with women constituting the majority of university students in Australia since 1987 (Norton & Cakitaki, 2016). Where only nine per cent of women aged in their 20s were attending an Australian higher education institution in 1976, by 2001 this had increased to 24% (ABS, 2005). Higher rates of participation in schooling and tertiary education at the time were in direct response to poor youth employment prospects, particularly those of young women (Dwyer, 1993; Looker & Dwyer, 1998; Wyn, 2009). Women who attended university fared better across a range of indicators (Long et al., 1999). Longitudinal surveys of students who completed Year 12 in 1998 found that for young women to achieve a ‘good path’ post school, university qualification attainment was seen to be essential (Karmel & Liu, 2011, p. 29). This generation of women was at the ‘vanguard’ (Wyn, 2004, p. 8) in their increasing uptake of post-secondary education, particularly as a basis for gaining economic security—a trend that continued into the current decade (Andres & Wyn, 2010). Nevertheless, young females take longer to graduate than male counterparts. Their tertiary education trajectories are interrupted more often and are more likely than males to be in part-time or casual work whilst seeking full-time employment following graduation (DET, 2017; Guthrie, 2016). Reflecting longer term trends, successive generations of interviewees for this book participated in post-school education and training, reflecting a continuity with their mothers, with many becoming teachers (see Image 5.1) or working in health care. Francis (Generation 1), like her twin daughters, undertook post-school education. She studied to be a teacher, while her daughter Helen (Generation 2) trained as a nurse at a Catholic hospital, worked for some time and then in 1985 trained in

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Image 5.1 Marie and Anne, James Cook University Townsville, 1990 Anne’s Master of education graduation

midwifery at the Royal Women’s Hospital. Three years later, Helen studied a Bachelor of Education at Monash University. Her twin sister, Anne (Generation 2), studied at a Catholic teacher’s college, Christ College, then worked as a teacher intermittently while raising her children. She undertook her Bachelor of Teaching part-time while working, and later gained a Master of Special Education in 2005. Catholic teacher training was established to transmit a Catholic belief system, cultural practices and to encourage the social, economic and educational development of students. The education of Catholic teachers worked to preserve distinguishing religious values and principles in Catholic educational institutions. Since 1956, to protect educational standards in schools and teacher qualification and registration requirements state models of teacher training were adopted which shifted the idea of apprenticeship-style training to professional practice. Compromises were made by Catholic institutions to meet the requirements of State regulations (Collins, 2005). Anne (Generation 2) remarked that ‘I went to a Catholic primary school, a Catholic secondary school and a Catholic teacher’s college… But I feel that I must have had my ears closed for the entire time, because I don’t know that I learnt a great deal about Catholicism in all those years, but I

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certainly had a good time at the various institutions’. Anne’s sentiments suggest that religious education in Catholic teacher training institutions may not have been as robust as in previous times. Bouma (2006) discusses this change in religious pedagogical practices in terms of the rise of ‘secularism’ in Australia. He writes the understanding of secularity as a social condition in which the religious and spiritual have moved out from the control of religious organisations, out from the domination of churches, proposed by Fenn (2001), seems to be much more useful in seeing and understanding current trends in religion and spirituality. This is particularly true in Australia… where religion and spirituality seem to be undergoing change rather than simple decline (p. 6).

Trish (Generation 2), who attended Christ College with Anne in the late 1970s, positioned this shift to a more secular lifestyle within the liberatory times of the 1960s and 1970s. Like Bouma, she believed that religion and spirituality had not been lost but rather were engaged with by her generation in a different way. Trish observed the fact is that I grew up in a different time and all my girlfriends and I were exposed to life in the 60s and 70s and we were all very excited and optimistic about life and wanted to enjoy all the secular sides of life that you could. We went along with the Catholic side of it mostly, but it didn’t direct our lives to the degree that it had directed our parents’ lives (Interview 1995).

By the time Generation 3 was considering post-school study, widespread changes to participation had taken effect. In 2011, for example, more women than men aged 15 to 19 were studying for a degree (16.3% as compared to 13% of males) and or women aged 20 to 24 were in some form of full-time study than males (32.9% compared with 29.7%) (Robinson & Lamb, 2012). A substantially higher percentage of women aged 20 to 24 were studying for a qualification at the degree level or above (29.9% of females vs. 22.7% of males). According to Robinson and Lamb, ‘Women were also over-represented among those undertaking study for a diploma or advanced diploma qualification. Furthermore, university-level attainment among 24–35-year-olds increased from 24 to 35% between 2001 and 2011’ (Robinson & Lamb, 2012, p. 35). Where earlier generations moved into conventionally female occupations, such as nursing and education, this started to change in the most recent generation interviewed. For instance, although Nadia’s (Generation 1) eldest daughter Pam became a teacher like Nadia, another daughter, Cilla, undertook studies in graphic design. Nadia’s granddaughter Debra entered the male-dominated field of firefighting. Cath’s (Generation 2) daughters Eleanor, Lucy and Anna (Generation 3) went to university. Lucy and Anna studied counselling and marketing, respectively. Pauline’s daughter Joanne, 22, was in the process of completing a double degree in Arts and Global Studies at Australian Catholic University when she was interviewed in 2016. Pauline’s daughter Jacqueline, who was also in the process of completing Year 12 in 2016 as her sister Joanne had done, intended to study events

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management or public relations at a Technical and Further Education (TAFE) institution or university. Sue’s (Generation 2) daughters, Jane and Felicity (Generation 3), followed her to university study, but Jane studied in the different field of Law at Melbourne University. Felicity graduated with a Bachelor of Arts and Teaching and worked at two different secondary colleges in Melbourne. While Jane represents a change in a career pathway, some continuity with their mother prevailed: Jane believed that she and her sister ‘inherited mum’s and Mona’s, her grandmother’s, values of hard work and always delivering your best to other people’. In contrast to Patricia (Generation 1) above, they felt supported and prepared for post-school life. Trish’s daughter Rosie (Generation 3) was also completing school when interviewed in 2016. She wanted to be a Primary School teacher like her mother.

Working and Caring While Studying: ‘Helping Out Financially’ Some first-generation interviewees studied or worked part-time while caring for their families. Francis (Generation 1) completed part-time study to be a teacher, and ‘had a baby sitter to mind the [four] children in between’. Lucille (Generation 1), got married… I don’t know six or eight months or something later I stopped work because I was having my first child. I did actually go back to work for a little while. I’d moved to a suburban public library and at one stage I’d work on Saturday mornings just to help out a little bit financially and I enjoyed that too’. Echoing global trends, young women’s participation in part-time work during post-school education increased during the last quarter of the twentieth century (Andres & Wyn, 2010; Cuervo & Wyn, 2011; Esping-Anderson, 2009; Wyn, 2012). For some of the third-generation interviewees, post-school study involved some form of work. Fiona’s daughter Olivia was 19 years of age when interviewed in 2016. She was studying at Australian Catholic University and working at the same Woolworths supermarket that her mum worked at when she was 18. Helen’s daughter Emily, who was also 19 when interviewed in 2016, was studying paramedicine at the Australian Catholic University Rosie worked part-time at a local bakery. Like her mother, Rosie was keen to save to be ‘financially stable through school, because some people don’t have jobs. So, I’m pretty lucky to have a job, I think. It’s pretty important’. Fleur’s daughter Genevieve was also juggling school and work when she was interviewed in 2016. Aged 15, Genevieve was attending a Catholic Girls college in the south-eastern suburbs of Melbourne while umpiring children’s basketball and babysitting: ‘It’s hard work but it’s worth it… I’m saving up to get a car and to go on holidays’. The particular nature of training, study and work is significant to future work prospects. Tracking two cohorts of school leavers in the mid-1980s and mid-1990s, researchers found that if the first post-school year is spent ‘in a positive way’; that

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is, in structured training, full-time work or study, then the likelihood of full-time work ensuing over the next 6 years was strong. However, for those young women whose main activity in the first post-school year was working part-time, but without study, or being unemployed, or outside the labour force altogether, then the likelihood of a ‘successful pathway’ (Lamb & McKenzie, 2001, p. ix) over the next 6 years was strongly diminished.

The Role and Impact of Gender on Working Life: ‘Figure Out What You Want to Be’ As suggested above, transitions to post-school study, training and work differ according to gender. Social norms and expectations of young women shifted during the post-World War II decades. The transitions for young women during the first two generations interviewed for this book were mainly into social roles, while young men predominantly moved into the labour force. For Australian women of the first generation, employment in their immediate post-school years was viewed as ‘temporary’ (Cuervo & Wyn, 2011, p. 8), biding time until marriage, family and household responsibilities (Bessant & Cook, 1998; Wyn, 2009). There was a perception that more substantial or permanent employment could potentially exceed women’s ‘psychological resources or transgressing her social role’ (Brown, 1998, p. 65). In the 1950s and 1960s, almost half of all women who became mothers in Australia had their first child in their early 20s, alongside a corresponding sharp decline in labour force participation for this demographic (Qu & Weston, 2017). 1961 Australian Census data reflects this movement out of and then back in certain types of work (or work altogether) as women assumed the roles of wife and mother (Cuervo & Wyn, 2011). Where there was high workforce participation during teenage years, rates of participation dipped before increasing again for women in the mid- to late-30s age bracket after child-rearing duties ended (ABS, 1964). The types of jobs undertaken also differed according to gender. International research of gender differences in school to work transitions has shown that women are concentrated in certain areas of the workforce, such as service sectors and caregiving (Blossfeld et al., 2015). As we have seen, teaching and health care were common pathways of interviewees across generations. Mary (Generation 1) was 61 when she was interviewed in 1995. The middle child in her family, Mary grew up in Western Australia in a ‘strongly Anglican environment …. it was a strict regime and possibly over the years because of that I found it really hard to bear and accept modern standards’. She went into nursing as a teenager, ‘not through any great desire to be a nurse but there were only three careers available to young girls at that stage… office workers, nurses or teachers’. Nursing allowed her to leave home ‘and stay out for as long as I wanted, which sounded very attractive when I was 17’. She became family carer but maintained night duty shifts for three nights a week ‘just to help with the money in the house’. Her nursing career was not continual; when her

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daughter was 9 Mary returned to work full-time but ‘because it had changed so much, I had to go back to work for just a little while and then I took a refresher course in theatre and then I was back in theatre working’, which she continued for over 20 years. Francis’ daughter Helen (Generation 2) was 35 when she was first interviewed in 1995. She pursued a career as a midwife, working at a Melbourne bayside hospital ‘and enjoying it’. She had recently got married and lived in a suburb south of Melbourne. Her sister Anne moved to South Gippsland, a rural area, ‘working on and off at the same school…’ for 20 years. Maria’s daughter, Joan (Generation 2), was nearly 36 years old when first interviewed in 1995. Her schooling was seen to have a major impact on her post-school transition to work. Joan was aware that large numbers of students from elite girls’ schools throughout Melbourne who transitioned to university had options to study in areas such as law. By contrast, according to Joan, her school Star of the Sea produced fewer graduates from her year who went to university, with most undertaking teaching: ‘I suppose all our mates went to teacher’s college which is fine if you wanted to be a teacher, but you weren’t given the opportunity of whether or not you did want to be a teacher. So, I’d be very worried about schooling for my children. I think attitudes of mothers have changed. I wouldn’t tolerate that now’. Dialogue with her sister Adelaine and mother Maria was insightful: Adelaine: Did you think that we had less pressure than the boys? Joan: Definitely. Adelaine: Whatever we wanted to do was fine, there wasn’t that much of [a choice] whereas the boys were… Joan: Make up your own minds whereas the boys were ‘oh you’d like to do law’. Maria: Beg your pardon! Joan: Well it wasn’t Mum, it was just more: ‘figure out what you want to be, you can’t be a phys-ed teacher…’ That was the only thing you said to me, whereas the boys were ‘well you’re going to do law, medicine or dentistry.’ That’s what I remember. Maria: Yes, I suppose so and none of you can do journalism [like your father] and that’s that. Some of the women went onto undertake post-school study in Catholic teaching and nursing institutions; for example, Marie (Generation 1) and her daughter Bernadette (Generation 2) both trained as nurses at St Vincent’s Hospital. Anne, Trish, Fiona and Loreto (Generation 2) undertook teaching studies at Christ College (a Catholic teacher’s college) in Chadstone. Whilst Joanne, Olivia and Emily from generation three were undertaking various degrees at Australian Catholic University, Melbourne when last interviewed.

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There were notable exceptions in which some women entered typically male-dominated work. Maria’s daughter Adelaine (Generation 2) did an apprenticeship as a cook between the ages of 15 and 19. This was somewhat unusual at the time as ‘It was a very much male oriented trade to do. I was the first girl taken at the place I did it’. Another unusual characteristic of Adelaine was that she was Catholic; when she started work, she was the second Catholic at the RACV [Royal Automobile Club of Victoria] kitchen at that time and it stood out very much so that I was Catholic…, the other was an Italian bloke. I think it might have had a bit to do with me being employed actually because I came from a school [her employer believed that she] had a strict upbringing and it would be easier to manage within the kitchen, [apprentices from school would] be more disciplined and their idea for work would be better (Interview 1995).

The testimony of Adelaine shows some relationship between Catholicism and work, but this was not pronounced amongst interviewees in general. The role of Catholicism was far more pronounced in other aspects of their lives, as we shall see later in this book. The role that religion and spirituality played in the lives of the women will be further explored through an examination of other aspects of their lives later in this book. How women view and construct their own meanings of Catholicism will come into view through an analysis of the various themes that emerge from the women’s conversations.

Conclusion The life experiences of interviewees across generations echo broader national trends in education attainment. Dropping out of school early was more common in the testimonies of older participants. Some found school difficult, while others experienced health difficulties or became family carers. Others had to work to survive. Tertiary education pathways continue to dominate young women’s post-school transitions in Australia and globally (Norton & Cakitaki, 2016). Young women are more highly educated and are entering the workforce in larger numbers than any previous generation of women (Price Waterhouse Coopers, 2015). Echoing these trends, successive generations of interviewees participated in more study and training. Many became teachers and nurses. More recent generations embraced areas such as law, humanities, counselling and marketing, while others followed the pathways of their mothers, aunties and sisters. Some studied part-time while working and raising families. Themes of change and continuity emerged across generations, with pathways changing across generations for some, while others pursued new areas of study, training and work. In the next chapter, we will explore these post-education and training pathways in closer detail. Acknowledgements The authors thank Joanne Gleeson for her research assistance in developing the historical overview of this discussion.

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Chapter 6

Career, Uncertainty and Working Life: ‘Being Classified as Temporary’ Lucas Walsh and Anne Keary

Abstract This chapter explores in further detail post-education and training pathways across generations. Key historical trends are outlined, with the fluid nature of working life for women coming into focus. A fine-grained examination occurs of gendered aspects of transitions to work, caring for families and post-school life. The older generation’s lives were impacted upon by key social changes such as the advent of contraception. For Catholic women, this was a contentious issue due to the church’s outlawing of it. Yet, women in this study were experiencing greater choice even if, at times, it was against Catholic Church rulings. Notions of choice and flexibility are reflected in the attitudes of the third generation with a more strategic approach taken to career and family. This was notwithstanding the influence for some of, and continuity with, older members of their families’ pathways. Some women of the third generation were clearly focused on undertaking post-study for specific careers. The way in which gender was shaping career aspirations and transitions of this youngest generation was more pronounced. The way in which gender was shaping the career aspirations of this younger generation was more pronounced.

Introduction Having previously examined national (and some global) trends in school and post-school study and training, this discussion seeks to further unpack post-school trajectories of interviewees. The discussion starts by outlining some key historical trends highlighting the fluid nature of working life. On the one hand, the previous chapter described how social expectations of women shifted during the twentieth century, ‘interruptions’ to working life such as becoming a mother remain consistent on the other, along with certain gendered aspects of transitions to work, family care and post-school life. This discussion outlines wider trends in relation to gender, attainment levels and employment, highlighting how young people think about career and work in a more fluid labour market. The attitudes of more recent

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generations reflect a feeling of having more choice and flexibility and show a more strategic attitude to career and family. In some ways, younger participants face a different kind of workforce to their mothers, grandmothers and aunties.

Early Twentieth Century: Means to Financial Security We will draw on the work of Australian historian Katie Holmes to gain insights into women’s lives in the early twentieth century. During this period, the expectation was that young white Australian women would get married. Marriage was seen to provide financial and physical security, love and companionship. For women, financial independence was challenging as employment opportunities were few and wages were about fifty per cent of a male wage (Holmes, 1995). To marry and bear offspring was the normative positioning and also took on a nationalist role as it was about ‘populating the Empire’ and maintaining the domination of the white culture (Holmes, 1998). Other avenues for a single Catholic woman included becoming a nun or caring for elderly parents. As outlined in Chap. 3, within this era of the suffragettes, Mary and her best friend Vera (pre-Generation 1) were young women emerging from their school lives and coming out into the broader society (see Image 6.1). Mary took up a role as a Primary school teacher and then helped her parents care for relatives on the Murray River, in the north of Victoria. In her early 30s she married and went onto have

Image 6.1 Vera and Mary with nuns at Yarrawonga convent 1928

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three girls. Vera’s life after study took a different direction to Mary’s. Vera was an orphan and had been raised by an uncle, a priest. Vera entered the convent to become a nun. Patricia, Mary’s daughter, commented ‘She probably entered the convent because there was nowhere else for her to live’. The reasons why Vera entered the novitiate are not fully clear. However, like Mona in Chap. 5, a life in the convent offered her a sense of closeness to God and security as a woman. After she left the convent, ‘she worked all her life until retirement because she needed to work’. Vera remained a single woman but was financially independent throughout her life as she worked and her Uncle (a priest) left her some money. Vera bought a cottage in Armadale, an inner suburb of Melbourne. Patricia told the story of how Vera took on a caring role in the community: ‘She cared for people around her. Come Christmas time, she would have all the people who were living alone or lonely people at her house for Christmas, a very caring lady’. Holmes (1995) contends that in the 1920s–30s: The advocacy of maternity as women’s natural occupation meant that for women who were not mothers, their paid work received little or no social endorsement…While women themselves may not have worried about whether their work was socially endorsed or not, especially if they needed money to survive, they did not have the language with which write about, or even conceive of, their work in positive and expansive terms (p. 40).

This chapter explores intergenerational meanings given to post-school study, work, relationships and motherhood. The gendered nature of work whether paid or unpaid is examined.

Life After Study and Training: ‘When Are You Getting Married?’ Following discussion of post-school transitions in the previous chapter, for a large proportion of interviewees, pathways to work could be characterised as ‘fluid’ and non-linear. Many of the older generations had to make do with a workforce that was arguably more hostile to women, while some from the more recent generations saw this fluidity as a basis for flexibility to pursue their own lifestyle choices while they explored their own identities and purposes. Change was a consistent theme across generations. It was normal in the lives of a few first-generation respondents in relation to their working lives. Aileen changed jobs a few times from factory work to sales and then the family business. Lucille, who worked in libraries, had several jobs. The gendered nature of social expectations and attitudes was seen to be a factor. In one instance, Lucille was made redundant, which she associated with pervasive attitudes of the time: Well I mean when we were married it wasn’t just attitudes in the church that were so different, it was the whole of society. For instance, when a woman married if she was a public servant her job then became reclassified as temporary. She was no longer permanent

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6 Career, Uncertainty and Working Life: ‘Being Classified as Temporary’ and that was an advance on what had been the previous situation, which was once you were married you no longer worked. And I think a similar situation happened in banks and big companies… And the question was always asked: ‘when you are getting married?’ You never even ask people now when they get married whether they are going to continue working it is just assumed that they will (Interview 1995).

Lucille then studied a graduate diploma course: although I didn’t have the basic degree, in community education and I was involved in what we call the lighthouse here at our parish where I was sort of co-ordinator for quite a few years. I got involved in adult education both academic; that is in HSC [Higher School Certificate] subjects and more hobby sorts of things like pottery and jazz ballet. I organised that sort of thing and kept it on the rails. I really got a lot of satisfaction out of that (Interview 1995).

Nadia’s daughter Cilla (Generation 2) was 57 when interviewed in 2016. She had worked as a graphic designer for about 20 years. But working life had become a little more fluid in between interviews—she had left full-time work a decade earlier. Cilla was freelancing from home as a designer since relocating from Melbourne to the Bellarine Peninsula. Echoing her mother, her work had ‘an environmental slant to it’ and the choice of part-time work was a deliberate one to self-sufficiency through ‘eating what you grow’. She spent her time undertaking volunteer work in her local community, such as designing a book as part of a community initiative about the environment. Cilla ‘never had any burning ambition’ other than the lifestyle she created on the Bellarine Peninsula to ‘coast through life’. One second-generation interviewee faced precarity late in life. Bernadette was 62 years old in 2016. Like her mother Marie, she became a nurse. But saving for retirement had been a challenge as she has worked and raised three children in remote and rural communities of Australia: I think employment has changed… I’m lucky, I’ve got secure employment at the Broome hospital as a midwifery nurse… it’s hard for us to save for retirement. My friends who have lived in Melbourne all their life and bought a house in their 20s, they’ve got financial security. Whereas, I think those of us that didn’t do that are probably not as financially secure when we’re looking at retirement now (Interview 2016).

Economic pressure is one factor forcing Australians to work longer (McDonald, 2011; Toscano, 2016), pushing retirement ages to later in life and further impacting youth employment markets (Walsh, 2016). 61% of Australian workers predict their working life will continue into their retirement years, with 48% of this population claiming the need to do so because of insufficient superannuation to live (Elsworth, 2017). Bernadette contrasted her experience to that of her parents: Dad only had the one trajectory in life. He lived in the same house and he had his good superannuation. Whereas I don’t think a lot of my generation, especially women will have that security, because we only got superannuation probably 20–25 years ago, so it’s a big difference in some ways (Interview 2016).

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Life Transitions and Choice: ‘I Feel That’s My Life’ Continuing on from the discussion in the previous chapter, other key social changes occurred during the latter half of the twentieth century. Australian women were more able to control the timing of childbirth with the advent of the contraceptive pill, although for Catholic women, using contraception is against church teachings. In July 1968, Pope Paul VI adopted a conservative minority stance on contraception. The encyclical Humane Vitae was issued which disallowed the use of contraception. There was an outcry from Catholics and many unable to reconcile the inflexible encyclical against the need for a more current sexual ethics grounded by a relational sexual stance in rather than one based on biological functions of reproduction (O’Brien, 2008). In 1995, Sally (Generation 2) explained her situation and commented on attacking remarks made to her by a priest about the size of her family I think [the Vatican II edict on contraception] has made a lot of my generation very unhappy. I remember going to Mass and there was a mission priest there, ‘why didn’t I have my fourth child’? That was offensive I thought and at that time I think I’d only had two and I didn’t have a very well husband (Interview 1995).

Her mother Aileen retorted, ‘Oh it’s just wrong in my opinion, my humble opinion I must say and I’m so glad my daughter [Sally] doesn’t have that attitude [to follow Catholic church teachings]’. O’Brien contends that ‘Even 40 years later, the wounds have not healed. For many Catholics, both clergy and lay, their relationship with the church would never be the same’ (p. 23). Trish, in 1995, talked about the Catholic church’s ruling on contraception and how it had impacted on her relationship with her mother … many Roman Catholic rules I have chosen for myself despite what the church would say. I know that many, many Catholic people do that, in particular with regard to contraception but also with regard to other rules of the Catholic church. I don’t know how much guilt affects me, but my mother certainly makes me feel guilty about disregarding the principles of the Catholic church (Interview 1995).

Reporting on her longitudinal study, Bjerrum Nielsen (2017) claims that ‘the mother–daughter relationship seems to be experienced as most emotional when it is conflictual’ (p. 258). She goes onto write that ‘The women who are the angriest with their mothers suffer from feelings of guilt because they can also see that their mother’s situation was difficult and because of the unclear borders between them’ (p. 259). Nevertheless, Trish was neither angry with her mother nor her mother necessarily angry with her daughter. Trish noted that she and her mother agreed to disagree on a range of issues and ‘it is hard to discuss some things as my mother had made it very clear all along what the black or white Catholic answer was to every issue… I know I’m still in her prayers every day for me to mend my ways’ (Interview 1995). Beyond religion, the life transitions and choices of interviewees need to also be understood within gendered structures and expectations. Like Adelaine, Nadia’s

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granddaughter Debra (Generation 3) was making her way into a male-dominated profession, and her pathways are indicative of this freedom, as well as the influential role of family and other social networks. Debra, who was 29 years old when interviewed in 2016, went to boarding school in India for around 4 years before returning to Australia to attend a private school on the Mornington Peninsula for three years, completing Year 12. In contrast to the ‘element of modesty’ described in the previous chapter, Debra was a free spirit. She worked as a fire-fighter over summer, rotating 6 months a year with 6 months off, and had been doing so for about 8 years. After school, Debra did an apprenticeship in conservation land management. Her boss told Debra about the fire-fighting work, helping her to apply: ‘Everything’s just been handed to me, [so] just like okay that avenue… so I’m just like go with the flow and the job suits me really well’. While the number of female firefighters working alongside Debra was growing (10 men, two women), she was working in a male-dominated profession ‘because I have my brothers, I’ve always hung out with boys all the time and it’s just like yeah they have different ways of thinking… I’m the youngest so then I know my personality works well with them because I’m like okay they’re dominant, they’re like I’m so awesome and I’m just like yeah cool, whatever. Be awesome’. Though reflective of a growing trend of women undertaking conventional male-dominated occupations, Debra is still exceptional. Research from the late 1990s–2000s shows a continued concentration of females in certain areas of work, with 54% of females entering occupations classified as female dominated and just seven per cent entering traditionally male-dominated occupations. For only three per cent of young women, their first significant job was in a trade occupation, compared to 21% of males from the same cohort (Buchler & Dockery, 2015). Young women’s education qualifications tend to be concentrated in humanities and business, with their initial jobs most likely to be in clerical or service/retail occupations. They are more likely than males to be employed part-time (Buchler & Dockery, 2015), while being pushed towards less skilled occupations in relation to their education levels, as well as to their peers from earlier generations (Karmel, 2011). In addition, when the share of female workers in an occupation is higher than males, then earnings in that sector or occupation tend to be lower for women than for sectors or occupations where males dominate (Leicht, 2008). As for future plans, Debra wanted to just travel or be a gypsy, have my van and just go from place to place finding a little job or going fruit picking… you can go up north and do mango picking and then cherry picking in summer, down Tassie. I feel like that’s my life. That would be really cool (Interview 2016).

Debra enjoyed the choice of lifestyle and though uncertain about her future, felt a sense of agency in navigating her future. Reflecting the geographic mobility of interviewees described in the previous chapter, Debra had already travelled and worked multiple times in Europe and Asia. Debra credited her parents as great mentors as well as some friends. Debra did not feel as though her schooling helped her career choice; rather her ‘way of doing things [came] from the family, from dad like working so hard… as a builder’ and having the value that ‘if you’re doing a

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job, do it right kind of thing.’ She was grateful for what her family went through to get her to where she was. She commented ‘I think technology and the way of life has gone so fast… I think it’s too much.’ Debra was inspired by her grandmother who was [a teacher] and ‘a go getter. It’s so hard for female teachers… If you’re a female, it’s so much harder for that generation and now it’s like females can do anything and … it’s very equal opportunity now. Work life has changed a lot.’

A Strategic Outlook and Career Focus: ‘That’s the Rationale’

Location: Auckland, New Zealand

Ronnie: I guess it’s that whole tension between what wellbeing is and our sense of wellness and health. Anne: Yes, and I think again making those sort of intergenerational comparisons… our nieces spoke about the tensions they find in striving to manage their own wellbeing. One of your nieces is a teacher. She coordinates VCE at a public school and she spoke about the amount of work that she has to do and the impact that that has on her… Ronnie: I think she’s striving to find some work/life balance, but that’s a challenging aspect for her… she spoke to another leader at the school who said, ‘Well, you work during the school term and then you have your holidays’. That’s the rationale for these hours of work that you put in in ten-week blocks, but for my niece that’s not enough…It’s also these scripts that are norms which we are bound by, but we try to step out of the norms and resist them. A wider trend emerged during the later twentieth century in which young women adopted a more strategic and ambitious outlook, focusing on careers. Research on a generation of young Australians that left secondary school in 1991 found that those with a tertiary qualification expressed stronger aspirations to have a career than men, as well as to attain steady employment. Women with less than a university degree also expressed a stronger desire to get into steady employment than their young male counterparts (Cuervo & Wyn, 2011). This generation of women ‘had high expectations for their careers’, with at least 8 out of 10 investing in some form of post-secondary education (Cuervo, Wyn, & Crofts, 2012, p. 8). Young women have been shown to be ‘enterprising and strategic’ in attitude, with a focus on constructing their future pathways (McLeod & Yates, 2006, p. 199).

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Some are ‘extremely ambitious’, particularly those from higher socio-economic status backgrounds, cultivating aspirations for themselves within school environments that promote girls to make the most of new opportunities, as well as within family environments where mothers, in particular, expected them to be ‘successful’ (McLeod & Yates, pp. 118–119). They have a driving sense of freedom and need for independence, from the perspectives of their own future and from their mothers. And yet for interviewees in this book, the influence of and continuity with the pathways of mothers were both evident, as well as the influence of some sisters and aunties. Like Rosie (Generation 3), others also followed their mother’s fields of work. Hannah (Generation 3) ‘just worked at the pub and at Mum’s school pretty much and then I went to uni[versity] in Ballarat—same as mum’, studying ‘nursing there for three years and then got a job at the Royal Children’s [Hospital]…’ As Hannah’s testimony suggests, pathways to post-school study were similar to the previous generation, illustrating continuity beneath the disruptions and changes to transition pathways during recent decades. Continuities were more evident from the second generation of interviewees onwards, with many becoming educators and nurses. Marie and her sister Patricia (Generation 1) were educated at Vaucluse Convent, the same school as their mother. Marie’s mother then went to Loreto Convent at Albert Park, where she completed a teaching course before teaching with the Faithful Companions of Jesus (FCJ) nuns who had educated her. Marie studied typing and shorthand and book-keeping and got a job in the Price’s Commission for 2 years before changing careers to nursing. Pat from the same generation (Generation 1) worked as a receptionist and then trained to be a podiatrist like her sisters. Her mother worked in health, owning and managing a hospital. Pat spoke of her mother’s influence over her choice of career: Kath and Nance [my sisters] did their course in podiatry or chiropody as it was called then. I was not happy with the work I was doing, I was working in a receptionist place at a hotel which was long hours, shift work. When my mother suggested that I go and do the course too, I did. No troubles with exams or anything. I was better when I left school than when I was at school. That’s one of those things (Interview 1995).

Neera, who experienced learning difficulties at school, found greater utility of post-school study than the formal years of schooling, ‘It [school] helped me in some ways, I did learn things, but I think it was more TAFE that helped me more than school in some ways’ (Interview 2016). Other interviewees described the influence of family members such as aunties and sisters. Sally’s daughter, Sarah (Generation 3), studied occupational therapy like her sister Katelyn. Sally proudly mentioned, ‘Yeah, Kate’s an occupational therapist … Sarah is also an occupational therapist who works at a special school three days a week and works privately two days a week’ (Interview 2016). Kate’s daughter Lucy had followed some of the same paths as her mother and aunty. At 21 years old, Lucy was living at home, studying health and physical education at Deakin University while working at a hospital on reception. Lucy completed school with a ‘decent ATAR score’ and got an Australian Football League apprenticeship where she worked at a school for a year. Lucy was planning

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to teach secondary school once she completed her degree. But like others of her generation, Lucy’s plans were fluid: ‘Just maybe work, find out a bit more about myself, and experience some more places, and meet some new people, and just broaden myself a bit outside of just Melbourne’. In the most recent generation, there was a mixture of those clearly focused on undertaking post-study for specific careers (e.g. in law, marketing and counselling), while others were more laissez-faire in attitude. Aileen’s daughter Sally (Generation 2) took a vocational pathway to become a teacher at a regional College, while her granddaughter Katelyn (Generation 3) studied occupational therapy at a Melbourne University before taking maternity leave. Christina (Marie’s granddaughter) at the age of 22, commented After high school, I’ve travelled around working on different communities and just learning about different things and travelling. And now I am in one place, back in Sydney, trying to build something and working on boats and possibly looking to do some study and yeah, just building on different practices (Interview 2016).

While Pauline’s daughter Jacqueline (Generation 3), aged 18 in 2016, was completing Year 12 and contemplated her future I’ll probably go to uni[versity] and get a degree and then go into planning and organising events… You can pretty much do it whenever, like you can do a TAFE course that does event management, or you can do like a media and journalism course or like there’s PR courses and stuff like that… Just live the life that I’m happy with, I don’t really know at the moment…(Interview 2016)

Location: Patricia’s home Anne:

Another subject that Generation 3 brought up was wanting to do further study. For my nieces that was something that they imagined they would do in the future. Even for Melissa, who is quite ill in Italy. When I was there in June, we talked together and made plans for her to come back to Australia and study next year. That was really important to her, to have a dream, for her to go and do her primary teaching degree. And for Claire, her sister, it’s about balancing work and family, and she’d like to do a teaching degree. She thinks having school holidays would fit in with having three small children. So, what about for your – Ronnie: … they talked about the most important thing in life is relationships, all their family and friends … when they were asked that question, ‘So what about in six years’ time’? It was about that; family, friends, relationships, and they’re sort of saying, ‘I don’t know what I’ll be doing with my career.’.

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Anne:

Well, I think they dream of study and careers but yet it’s not in terms of a fixed careerRonnie: It’s multiple careers.

The impact of gender in shaping career aspirations and transitions of participants was more pronounced in earlier generations, but less evident in the most recent generation interviewed. The most recent generation expressed greater awareness and contemplation of their options, which were perceived to be more diverse. Claire (Generation 3), for example, said I guess mainly with work, whether I change jobs, or I study something and have a complete career change, which I’m contemplating, or just stay at home with the kids… I enjoy kids. I enjoy education. I enjoy teaching… I always have. Even in high school I loved helping my friends with studying and stuff like that. I was never very good at it myself, but I enjoyed helping them. It’s just something that I’ve realised more and more, as I’ve grown. It also, I feel, gives me the ability to be able to be there for my kids, and work (Interview 2016).

Location: Auckland, New Zealand Anne: We’re in Auckland… Ronnie: I’m going to a conference. We thought that I would be here, and we wanted to have another conversation… So, you thought you’d come to New Zealand Anne: New Zealand has very special significance for me. It was where my first teaching job was. I couldn’t get a job in Victoria at the time… early 80s. I looked up the New Zealand Education Department Gazette. I wrote to some Kindergartens, and I got a position at Upper Hutt, Wellington and then on the Lakeland Mobile Kindergarten at Lake Taupo. It was my initiation into kindergarten teaching. Ronnie: It’s interesting because I’m here to chair the National Field Education Network of Australia in social work. We thought it would be a good way to bring together those things that we’re now both involved in. Anne: Our topic for today is wellbeing and life/work balance. I guess the life/work balance fits in well when we’re both busy academics always on the run Ronnie: Yes, and it’s been interesting preparing for this conversation because we’re on the go, we’re trying to get some balance in our life. The reality is there’s very little balance in our lives with the work we do.

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Some international studies of young people reaching adulthood in the early twentieth century affirm that this generation is a highly mobile one, particularly in the years post-school and post-tertiary graduation (Deloitte, 2017; PwC, 2015). And yet the testimonies of older generations also suggest high mobility, though possibly for different reasons—the sample is too small to generalise. Some young women (in contrast to their counterparts) experienced difficulty finding a job post-graduation related to their field of study. Others were not prepared to compromise their career ambitions or aspirations and change jobs accordingly to meet their desires (PwC, 2015). This data was, to some extent, consistent with the most recent generation of interviewees.

The Anxieties and Challenges of Contemporary Working Life: Boomerang Back Home’ Though feeling empowered to make choices about future pathways and pursue careers and families, the most recent generation also expressed uncertainty about their futures, which several assumed would be non-linear. Despite completing a Law Degree, Jane had not: worked out what I want to do with my life yet, so like work isn’t very important to me… I was thinking about it this year of maybe doing a career change, but now that I’m pregnant I’m like this job is so easy and I could probably do it three days a week, so it’s probably quite a good job to have for the next few years. So maybe I’ll reassess in five years (Interview 2015).

Similarly, Georgia was finding her pathway: I just started working full-time this year doing like marketing and Internet related things… I had no real concept in my head of what full-time work was going to be and that you had to get a job and - like, after uni[versity] because I think I always saw myself as pretty young and not ready to sort of make that jump into full-time work. I just wanted to stay at uni [versity] for ages and whatever (Interview 2016).

But her former partner ‘sort of provided a bit of a juxtaposition to that … “oh, yeah, definitely I got more things done” and I wouldn’t have gone into work [except for him] I think I would have just stayed at uni[versity] for ages longer’. As she neared the end of her studies at Australian Catholic University (ACU), Pauline’s daughter Joanne was also uncertain about her future I currently [have a job] yes but we’re closing. I work at a children’s store at Southland [shopping centre], and I’m going to lose my job, because we’re closing down. Our last day is the 31st of May so I have to look again for a new job because I didn’t get my job back at Target [a retail store] when I got back from Europe. I got a job within a week working at a café, but I didn’t like the café and I’ve been through all sorts of job-hunting adventures since. And to date it’s not really working out very well (Interview 2016).

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Joanne added: it’s kind of soon for me at this stage, which is a bit scary. I don’t know I just kind of want to find a job that I’m actually happy with and then I’m thinking of teaching English overseas. I think that would be kind of cool, and it would mean I could travel and work at the same time (Interview 2016).

Joanne was considering returning to tertiary study to undertake a Masters Degree in ‘maybe like something with tourism or if I really like teaching maybe education but yeah I’m not too sure at the moment’. For Joanne’s 18-year-old sister Jacqueline, plans for the future were also unclear. She was seeking to ‘live the life that I’m happy with, I don’t really know at the moment… I don’t have a job…’ She had previously worked but struggled to get part-time work: it’s a bit weird at the moment, because like they say that they’re hiring and then you put in your résumé and then they don’t call you back, and it’s a bit confusing, because I know both of my résumés looks really good. And you need to have a lot of qualifications but no one’s willing to give you the opportunity to get them (Interview 2016).

Her mother, Pauline, added: ‘Yeah they want a qualification, they want experience… [And] someone they can ring up at five minutes’ notice that will drop everything and come’. Research shows that of young people who left secondary school in 2006, 68% had been employed in two to five jobs by 2010, with 12% having had in excess of five jobs in that time frame (Crofts, Cuervo, Wyn, Smith, & Woodman, 2015). Sally’s daughter, Sarah was onto her fifth job, working part-time in the disability area for the Victorian Education Department in schools. Sarah did not know if she wanted to be an Occupational Therapist for the rest of her life. Francis’ granddaughter, Emily, was hoping to work in paramedics and nursing following her study at ACU. She was working in a number of jobs to save for travel. Working several jobs in a very casualised workforce was challenging, particularly getting a job with sufficient hours. In one employment situation, Emily’s mother Helen intervened on Emily’s behalf because Emily was being mistreated: ‘no one needs to be treated the way Emily was treated or any of the other employees but then I thought later maybe I’m just being a helicopter parent [laughs]’. The mothers of the latest generation appeared to want to keep their distance from exerting their opinions over their daughter’s futures. Despite the growing ambitions of young women in recent decades, career paths are often difficult for women to navigate (Cuervo & Wyn, 2011). For example, those able to take up professional jobs with a degree of permanency upon graduation are by no means secure in the longer term because some workplaces are not ‘family friendly’ (Andres & Wyn, 2010). In addition, longitudinal research has shown the private rate of return on a university degree for young women has in the past been lower overall than for young men. This was the case in 1989/90 and was also lower than the previous generation of females who had attained a university qualification in 1968/69, 1973/74 and 1978/79 (Maglen, 1994). The educational investment by many women (and their parents) in their tertiary education during

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this time did not pay off for them to the same extent that it has their male counterparts (Andres & Wyn, 2010). A disconnect has been noted between the higher career expectations of young women and the limited labour market opportunities for this demographic group (Krahn & Galambos, 2014). Hannah (Generation 3) spoke of how fortunate she was to secure a graduate job as a nurse. She commented on how she felt ‘grown-up’ when applying for another position as an experienced nurse. A conversation with her twin sister Sarah about the high number of nurses who missed out on graduate positions when Hannah completed her course highlights their experience of this amongst their peers: Hannah: I’ve been kind of lucky getting my new job. When I had my grad year at the Children’s [hospital] it was ongoing, so I could stay there forever pretty much. It’s a good ward where there’s probably about six different specialties. I kind of felt like I was growing up by going for another job and another girl from my work went for a job as well. As grownups really applying for another job, it’s pathetic. In your grad year you have to anyway, don’t you? Because your kind of guaranteed a spot almost but… Sarah: Not really, in your grad year there was heaps of people that missed out – Hannah: Oh no, you’re right. We didn’t know at that time that 17,000 [nurses] missed out in my grad year. It was the worst year for nursing… It was a bad year. Pretty much all my friends didn’t get a grad year, it was horrible (Interview 2016).

By late 1990s, over-education of young women relative to their employment outcomes became pronounced. 1997 data from the Negotiating Life Course survey found 40% of 18- to 24-year-old Australian females were overeducated, compared with 23.7% of 35 to 44-year-olds who transitioned from secondary school in the late 1970s to early 1980s (Linsley, 2005, p. 128). If overeducated, over time they can experience fewer promotion prospects and tenured career positions matching their qualifications (Linsley). This trend is not confined to females—research on employees in 2001 through 2008 shows a growing incidence of over-education amongst both genders (Dockery & Miller, 2012). However, higher proportions of females are overeducated, and experience lower wage return compared to men in managerial, technical, trade and operations occupations. Many experience diminished returns on education (Andres & Wyn, 2010). Despite over two decades of increasing educational participation and attainment, young women do not receive the same financial remuneration, job quality or stability as young men (Blossfeld et al., 2015; Wyn, Cuervo, Crofts, & Woodman, 2017b). They are effectively penalised in terms of job satisfaction and wage earnings due to over-education (Mavromaras, McGuinness, O’Leary, Sloane, & Wei, 2013). Their upward mobility as a result of tertiary education is as secure as the previous generation (Minello & Blossfeld, 2014). But it should be noted that the trend towards over-education was neither explored nor mentioned by interviewees. The Global Financial Crisis (GFC) of the 2007–2008 further eroded employment opportunities on the back of longer term changes (BSL, 2017; Skattebol, Hill, Griffiths, & Wong, 2015; Te Riele, 2004; Wyn et al., 2017a, b; Walsh, 2016).

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Following the growth of female labour force participation since the 1970s, employment growth flat-lined for a number of years following the GFC (Hajkowicz et al., 2016). While the share of highly educated youth Not in Education, Employment, or Training (NEET) is relatively low today, it rose following the GFC, with the share of highly educated among NEETs in Australia rising from 14 to 18% since 2007, with young women representing the higher proportion of NEETs (OECD, 2016). Young women continue to have higher rates of underemployment and underutilisation, despite an increase in female labour force participation from 43% in 1978 to just under 60% in 2015 (Hajkowicz et al., 2016, p. 9)1. They are more often in part-time work than not and account for approximately 60% of Australian youth not ‘earning or learning’ (Lamb, Jackson, Walstab, & Huo, 2015, p. 72). In Australia, transitions from full-time education to full-time employment take an average of 4.7 years, an increase of around 25% since the GFC, with young women faring worse than young men (Stanwick, Lu, Rittie, & Circelli, 2014). In 2015, graduate surveys in Australia were pointing to a considerable reduction of Bachelors degree graduates overall in full-time work 4 months after completing their degree—the worst figures since the 1992–1993 recession (Carvalho, 2015; Karmel & Carroll, 2016). A 2018 Graduate Outcomes Survey showed that job prospects were slightly on the improve with 73% of undergraduates in some type of full-time work 4 months after completing their degree—an increase of one percentage point (DET, 2018). By aged 20–24, more men are in full-time work than females (49.6% of males compared with 37.3% of females) (Robinson & Lamb, 2012, p. 12). One gender analysis of school-to-work transitions surveys across 32 countries shows that despite increasing levels and duration of education for both young men and women, ‘being young and female can [still] serve as a double strike for those seeking to find productive employment’ (Elder & Kring, 2016, p. 2). International research of young people reaching young adulthood in the early twenty-first century has found unemployment and job security to be of concern, with many of this generation in mature employment markets such as Australia expecting to be worse off financially and career-wise than the previous generation (Deloitte, 2017). Feelings of uncertainty and caution emerged in studies of the late 1990s (Du Bois Reymond, 1998; Gordan & Lahelma, 2004). A more recent survey found 67% of 18- to 29-year olds were concerned about their future career prospects in the current economic climate, with 76% of 18- to 20-year-old young women being the most concerned in this age group (Co-op, 2015).

1

The number of working-age men not participating in the workforce grew twofold during the same period (Hajkowicz et al., 2016, p. 9).

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Conclusion As also shown in the previous chapter, the testimonies of interviewees shed light on continuities and change in the working lives of women. The older generation of women faced a more hostile workforce and for some full-time work began at the age of 14. The second generation tended to undertake a Year 12 equivalent, but two early school leavers took on apprenticeship-type work. Younger generations expressed a sense of freedom and possibility and were aware of the opportunities available to them compared to previous generations. Lifestyle choices fluctuated alongside a precarious labour market that curtailed the working expectations of this younger generation. The mothers of the third generation expressed concern at casualisation of the workforce and the employment conditions of their daughters. To some degree, across the generations the influence of mothers, aunties and sisters could be seen on young women’s career choice. As some social expectations shifted across earlier generations, stark gendered differences persist. Overlaying and intersecting these are the continuities and disruptions to work and family arising from balancing the role of mothering with working life and the pursuit of life projects after work and family. This is the main focus of the next chapter. Acknowledgements The authors thank Joanne Gleeson for her research assistance in developing the historical overview of this discussion.

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Chapter 7

Life After Study and Training: ‘Building Something’ Lucas Walsh and Anne Keary

Abstract This chapter examines the testimonies of women concerning life after study and training and explores the continuities and disruptions to work and family. The experiences of the women were in a large part consistent with wider national trends. Non-linear transitions into lifelong careers were not unusual. Family caring duties and ill-health were some reasons for disruptions to careers. Precarity and fluidity in relation to workforce participation was a feature of employment across the generations but, in particular, featured prominently in the testimonies of the third generation. Life journeys after study and training were diverse across all generations, yet the influence of family on shaping post-school decisions was evident for some women. Happiness in work and life was of importance to all women. Post-family life was experienced in a myriad of ways with retirement for some opening up new opportunities and activities. There are some indications that for the third generation, certain markers of transition such as leaving home, purchasing property and securing full-time stable work were happening later in life. Still, across all the generations post-school pathways are uneven.

Introduction Previously, the education, training and work pathways of interviewees were traced across generations. Where the previous discussion attempted to locate the education and training pathways in a wider macro context, this chapter is more focused on the stories of life after study and training, exploring the continuities and disruptions to work and family. There is no single ‘story’ capturing these life journeys, as they are diverse within and across generations. A significant number of interviewees (20) found their way into lifelong careers, although for some this pathway was non-linear. Around the same proportion became full-time carers of their families, with a few disengaging from work for health reasons. This discussion explores the challenges of combining work and family, discussing the role and influence of family, siblings and community in shaping post-school trajectories.

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Periods of Unemployment: ‘Look for Work Later On’ Three interviewees described periods of unemployment. When Joan was interviewed in 2016, she was 57 years of age and living in the inner northern suburbs of Melbourne with four (nearly) grown-up children. She had not been in paid employment for a long time, mainly because her daughter, Evangelina (20 years), had Down Syndrome. Evangelina was not interviewed directly, but her mother spoke about Evangelina’s experiences in school and work. While Joan’s sons went to a private Catholic boys secondary college and completed Year 12, Evangelina attended private Catholic girls College until Year 12 but did not undertake the VCE. ‘But the school’, Joan said, ‘was perfect for her’. At the time, Evangelina was participating in a work transition program at a Technical and Further Education (TAFE) institution in the eastern suburbs of Melbourne. The program was due to be cancelled ‘but we possibly would have said not another year’. Evangelina volunteered for half a day a week at an Opportunity (charity) Shop near where she lived, sorting clothes and alphabetising the books, as well as working at Jesuit Social Services Community College, where she did administrative work such as filing and putting flyers in envelopes. Evangelina, according to her mother, ‘got the volunteer job at Jesuit Social Services through a friend because nepotism is a very good employer isn’t it?’. Networks, be they school principals, friends and family, were important sources of support for several of the women in this study, as will be discussed below. When interviewed in 2016, Neera was unemployed at the age of 30. She was living with her mother in a caravan park in regional New South Wales and on disability support pension. Neera’s (mild) intellectual disability presented challenges across the life course: ‘Just the whole thing of schooling in general… I found it difficult to learn things because of my intellectual disability… And then after [school] I went to three different TAFEs’. In addition, Neera’s life was deeply impacted on when her mother became ill. She planned to look for work later on or something… I think I might just work instead of going back to TAFE. I think I’ve done enough TAFE courses…I still would work in the horse industry and use my TAFE credentials for the horse industry.

Caring for Family: ‘Actually They Didn’t Accept Married Women Back in Government Offices’ Marie (Generation 1) changed career from being a typist in a government department to nursing. She was not happy typing, finding greater satisfaction in nursing. Nursing provided a means of changing career in a workforce in which options for women were limited:

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It was one way of being able to leave your job in the government because they were very, very strict in those days with the war on, [so you] couldn’t change jobs.” She loved nursing at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Melbourne… because of the friendship with work-colleagues. It was “one of the happiest times of my life. And I graduated from there and I went with two others, my sister-in-law as she is today, and another girl” (Interview 1995).

Marie went to Sydney and did her midwifery at St. Margaret’s Hospital in Darlinghurst and commented: “my heart melted for those little babies” (see Image 7.1). Marie stopped work when it came time for her to raise a family. Marie’s eldest daughter Bernadette (Generation 2) also worked in a government office when she left school until she began her nurse’s training at St. Vincent’s where her mother trained. Bernadette then undertook a midwifery course at the Mercy hospital Melbourne following which she nursed in paediatrics at a Melbourne hospital. She then worked as a community health nurse in an Aboriginal community in south-west Queensland (see Image 7.2 of Bernadette bathing a baby at the health clinic). In her longitudinal research of employment and career choices across four generations of American women, Goldin (2006) found most women during the post-World War II to mid-1970s era expected to move into family and social roles upon leaving school, and when post-school study was undertaken, it was done so more as a way to meet a suitable spouse than a basis upon which to pursue a career.

Image 7.1 Marie at St. Margaret’s Hospital, Sydney, 1940s

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Image 7.2 Bernadette as a community health nurse

Like Marie, caring for families featured in the life-courses of many interviewees. Giving up work for family was prominent amongst the older generations in particular. Marie and Patricia’s mother, Mary (pre-Generation 1), was a primary teacher at Mercy College and was studying to teach but had to relocate to Barnawartha in north-eastern Victoria to care for extended family, who had been orphaned. She continued to teach but stopped when married. Francis (Generation 1) had two girls, followed by two boys and remembers ‘quite distinctly that I didn’t really consider having a career for very long and I was quite prepared to give it away when I got married. I worked as a therapy radiographer at [a cancer treatment centre] just until after I was married’. Having left school early, Agatha’s (Generation 1) father suggested she do a course at Burroughs Business College and got a job through that college. She worked for the Board of Works for 11 years before caring for her family full-time. This was not completely by choice: ‘Actually they didn’t accept married women back in the government offices, [who implied] ‘we were city government Board of Works, oh no, once you married you left’. You could take up part-time jobs or full-time jobs if need be, but, no, your father would have had a fit if I’d taken on a job. I was his wife, he was to keep me’.

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Combining Work and Family: ‘I Looked Around as to What to Do Next’ Location: Auckland, New Zealand Ronnie: I think of the types of work that my mother did, and the length of her days prior to being married. She worked up until my older brother was born but not after that. To move beyond the working class, it was education that was seen as the key liberator. Work was just a normal part of her life, it wasn’t something to complain about. It was just Anne: how it was… Ronnie: Well I just think they had their extended family and everyone was too busy really to have friends. Anne: … my mother, after having raised seven of us, would have liked to have gone back to work, but she was constrained by her illness… And many of her friends in the late 60s, early 70s went back to work. She felt that she lost some of her friends because they were too busy then to engage with her… She found her support network in being on tucks hops and supporting us. That was her work. Ronnie: Yes, that’s right. It’s interesting because both Mona [my mother] and Marie [your mother] talk about doing tuckshop duty, being involved in the mother’s club, doing all of those sorts of things. And Mona said, ‘That is what you did then’. There would be absolutely no talk of going back to work. But I remember my sister, Sue going back to work, and having one of her daughters in childcare. I remember how shocked Mona was at that… with my kids she was fantastic. She looked after my kids when I went back to work. I have to say that I know that I was a much better mother because of working. And I know with my nieces, all who’ve had children, say, ‘I’m a much better mother through working’. I would have gone mad with every day child rearing, there’s a lot of sameness… And I guess that’s the dream that I don’t think our mothers would ever have had, that we would have children and then go back to work. In fact, that was frowned upon… Similarly, with my niece [Sue’s daughter] just having had her daughter. Sue, her mother is looking after Tess [the baby]. But Sue’s still doing some work. So that whole work-life identity is very real for us. Some interviewees juggled work and family. Nadia (Generation 1) raised a family of five children and worked full-time as a teacher at a local school. Francis (Generation 1) was sent to boarding school, during which time she suspected her

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mother ‘was rather lonesome. Not only that, but she was a very good dressmaker, so for quite many years she went to work [at various outlets] making curtains. She was what I suppose you would now call these days a working mother, but she didn’t realise that. She was working for money’. Others combined family, study and work. Francis (Generation 1) studied part-time at RMIT while raising four children. She completed her study in 1974 after four or five years: So, having finished that, I looked around as to what to do next, saw an advertisement for teacher training and thought well working in a school library would be a good idea because I was very, very conscious of not being away after school and when the children came home. I most certainly still considered it my problem to do all the housework, do all the shopping – less of the shopping, my husband was pretty good with the shopping. But I thought it was my responsibility to do the housework and certainly to have the dinner ready every night. So, the school seemed a good idea (Interview 1995).

Francis retired in 1999, but ‘really enjoyed working, I loved it’ but felt it was a good time to leave before her love of the work soured. The most recent generation was perhaps more consciously seeking a balance of work, family and life in general. Claire, 28, was third out of five children to Marie (Generation 2). She got married and had two children. After graduating from a Sydney girls high school, Claire worked at Kentucky Fried Chicken before joining Alliance where she continued working for 10 years before becoming Senior Premium Services Officer. Claire struggled to balance work and family: I do want to work and things like that but sometimes that comes in quite a bit of conflict with your home life. Just trying to find that balance… it gives me something to strive for and sometimes I feel like I do good - it’s a good confidence booster… You’re sure of yourself. When you’re raising kids, everything you do you question, and you’re not sure if it’s the right thing or not and you never know until years later whether how you did was the right thing. Whereas, when you’re working, at least it’s some consistency and some surety… There is a lot of hardships… going on, and I still manage to push through and come to work and try and get there for my kids, even though most of the time you just want to bundle up and hide under the covers (Interview 2016).

Claire liked working but was seeking to get that balance, while also allowing me to do a job that I would enjoy doing. I think it’s very hard when you do a job that you don’t enjoy, and you’ve got the kids and things like that. I think in some ways you can feel resentful. Being a stay at home mum, if you’re happy, that’s great. If you’re happy to work, but it’s hard when you’re doing a job that you’re not happy with, and then you come home. You need to have some sort of happiness in your life, and kids are a great happiness, but they are also quite hard work. So, if you’ve got a job that you enjoy, I think, that makes life just that much better, and I think that would be a job that I would enjoy, that would allow me to be there for my kids at the same time. So, it’d help me have that balance, if that’s something I can possibly do (Interview 2016).

In her longitudinal intergenerational study, Bjerrum Nielsen (2017) notes that it was at the age of 40 that participants began to discuss how to manage the stresses of balancing work and life. She explains that the interviewees in this phase of interviews were about the same age as the researchers when they undertook their first

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interviews. This is comparable to Claire’s case where she is at a similar period in life as many of the Generation 2 participants were in the first phase of interviews; that is, working with young children. Work–life balance was not a concept talked about in the first phase of interviews. Rather it was a discussion about the choice of whether to be a working-mother. From a methodological perspective, Bjerrum Nielsen writes, ‘It is difficult to say exactly how these things influenced the interviews, but it indicates the importance of awareness towards the age of the informants and the relationship between the interviewer and the interviewee as co-producing the narratives and perspectives chosen’ (p. 57). It also points to changing attitudes and perspectives across time and generations. For carers like Cath (Generation 2), work as a secondary teacher provided a source of meaning and escape from child rearing. She was desperate to get back to work after I had Lucy. There is not much age difference between Eleanor and Lucy. And by the time [Lucy] was sort of six months I had had it at home… I think I said to my husband one night ‘oh Christ I’ve got to get out of here I can’t cop this anymore. And then the next week I got this part-time job and I snapped it up (Interview 1995).

Cath’s capacity to work was influenced by her husband’s career to the extent that she relocated for his work to Asia, where she mostly undertook volunteer work. There is another continuity across generations. The allocation of Australian parents’ time to paid and unpaid work remains very gendered, with fathers usually in full-time employment and mothers often employed part-time or not in employment (Baxter, 2013). Australian mothers also spend more time than fathers doing household work, whether that is child care or other domestic work (ABS, 2016), reflecting a gendered pattern across a number of countries (Craig & Mullan, 2010, 2011; Hook, 2006; Sayer, 2005). The imbalance of family duties and household work in Australia has been attributed to the high rate of part-time working mothers, or potentially as a reflection of mothers’ constrained employment choices in that they may not always be able to work under conditions they would like (Baxter, 2016). Changes in working hours or career pathways due to family, care and household responsibilities impacts women far greater than their male counterparts (Baxter, 2016; Skinner & Pocock, 2014; Van Egmond, Baxter, Buchler, & Western, 2010). Despite significant social changes over past decades, the ‘male breadwinner/female caregiver model of the 20th century is alive and well in 21st century Australia, and many workplace cultures are made in the image of the full-time male worker unencumbered by care responsibilities’ (Skinner & Pocock, 2014, pp. 1–2). Survey data from 2005 suggests that, despite increasingly egalitarian views about gender work and household roles in the decades post-World War II to the mid-1990s, attitudes among Australian men and women have since ‘slowed markedly and possibly stalled’ (Van Egmond et al., 2010, p. 162). In 2005, a significant proportion of Australian men (41% of men surveyed) and women (36% of women surveyed) agreed that ‘it is better for the family if the husband is the principal breadwinner outside the home and the wife has primary responsibility for the home

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and children’. (These trends are mirrored in international studies (Braun & Scott, 2009).) There is evidence of an increasing conservatism from the mid-1990s toward combining paid work and mothering, as well as a loss of interest in feminist issues by more recent generations of women: ‘[Australians] are supportive of women’s greater access to work outside the home but only if this work does not interfere with their primary responsibility as mothers’ (Van Egmond et al., 2010, p. 164). This was not evident in the interviews conducted for this book, but nor was it directly explored during the interviews. The question can be raised, ‘has anything changed for the third generation regarding transition to work, study and life?’ The findings of an Australian intergenerational study from the 1990s are of interest. Reporting on this study, Bulbeck (1997) notes that ‘Women encounter prescriptions for ideal behaviour in their family, among their friends, in cultural representations like books and the media, at school and university. Their capacity to choose between future options, for example, various combinations of work and motherhood, will depend on their education, their control over their own bodies, the work sites to which they have access’ (p. 9). One of her research participants claimed, ‘that feminism needs to be learned ‘over and over’ in each generation’ (p. 209). These chapters, like Bulbeck (1997), are concerned with how girls and women think about and grapple with the meanings accorded to their lives. Although the influence of the feminist movement was not directly explored in the interviews (unlike Bulbeck’s study), ideological positionings that shape how the women perceive of themselves are those of religion, gender, family, motherhood and work. Although difficult to pinpoint and measure in terms of the notion of feminism, continuities and changes in ‘attitudes, self-definitions and expectations for women’ (Bulbeck, p. 211) come through in the testimonies of the women. The endurance and variations between and across generations in the women’s outlooks on life come under a feminist analysis in the next section of the book.

Life After Work and Raising Family: ‘My Job Doesn’t Define Who I Am’ For interviewees, post-family life was experienced in different ways across generations. When interviewed in 1994 Nadia (Generation 1) was retired ‘and filling my life with all sorts of things that I haven’t been able to do before’ such as environmental work in the Mud Islands and building her retirement home. When first interviewed in 1994, Nadia’s daughter Pam was 40 years old, and like her mother, pursued a career in teaching. Pam was teaching in an Aboriginal teacher adult education program while living in the most north-west community in South Australia. She had retired from teaching when interviewed in 2016, before which she had been principal in South Australian schools:

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living up [in north-west south Australia] was sort of more than work – it was quite an experience of a lifetime, and … had a huge impact on me. I feel very privileged to have spent some really good amount of time up there and met some really lifelong friends, family. Been privileged to have been to places, seen places, and participated in ceremonies that not many other people would have had access to or experienced (Interview 2016).

Pam spends her retirement doing art and gardening. She also became a Justice of the Peace, ‘so that’s my community contribution’. Pam did not have children as she ‘never, ever had a maternal instinct’ however, working with little children in schools felt ‘like they’re my kids’. As a former principal, Pam remained a respected member of the community: ‘people still introduce me as “Pam, she was the principal here”. I think “oh please, my job doesn’t define who I am, or my old job”… But so, going back to community, I do little things, I help out with the Lions Club of all things, in the donut van at Christmas…. It’s hilarious, I love it’. Others like Pam felt free to pursue their own interests. When interviewed in 2016, Peg (Generation 1) was living alone after the death of her husband eight years earlier. She was living ‘very close to all sorts of shops and things. I try to keep as busy as I can’, attending University of the Third Age classes in biology, greeting card making and Italian classes. Sadly, Peg passed away in December 2017 whilst this book was being written. The second generation described certain challenges as well as happiness in work and life. When asked what the biggest change in life over the past 2 years is, Fleur (Generation 2) replied: I think probably my work has been the biggest change. The kids are in primary school and are settled. We have a new home here… and it was time to do something for myself, so that was a big change… I retrained about five years ago and did my DipEd in primary education and work at a local Catholic primary school (Interview 2016).

Pat’s daughter Mary (Generation 2) divorced in 2002 and moved from rural Victoria back to her hometown of Melbourne. She worked for 15 years in a steady job, and in 2016 was ‘single, happy, new property, new house’. Pat’s other daughter Fiona took time out to raise her children before working in a job share position in teaching while she continued to raise her family. Having undertaken a teaching course in primary education, Sally (Generation 2) worked in special education for 3 days a week when she was interviewed in 2016. She commented that she was ‘thinking about winding down because my husband has retired and I’m running a program at the Department of Health and with the Education Department’. Trish (Generation 2), who was 35 when interviewed in 1995, studied Primary teaching at Christ College (a Catholic teacher’s college). She taught in government schooling but took a voluntary redundancy package: ‘I thought that I was a good teacher, but I was in the position of having bought a house in South Gippsland and I had managed to pay that off after trying pretty hard in 8 years of teaching, so I thought I could take a package and do some other things in life’. Trish continued: There were a number of influences on that decision; probably the most important one was the fact that I had been going out with [my partner] for a couple of years and I’d had a strong history of work and saving and that sort of thing. His background had been very

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different. He hadn’t had many long-term jobs at all and, well, that influenced me in taking the package. Since I’ve stopped teaching, I’ve had over a year at home. I had an interest in gardening and I’ve started up a very small lawn-mowing and gardening business (Interview 1995).

Her income was ‘very small’ at the time: but it means that I can get a bit of income and not live entirely off the package. I think I’ve been a fairly reliable, straight and sensible person in a lot of ways with regard to work and saving… being responsible for taking care of business but also a pretty fun-loving… (Interview 1995).

Trish then dedicated her time to raising her children. Her mother, Meg (Generation 1), did not approve of women working while raising children. By the age of 57, Trish had returned to casual relief teaching which was challenging ‘but soon my children will be taking control of their own lives and that I will embark on something new… It could be more volunteer work’ (Interview 2016).

Role of Parents and Siblings: ‘Encouragement to Try What We Wanted’ Building on discussion in previous chapters, the final part of this chapter explores the influence and role of parents, siblings and community in shaping life after school. Some parents and grandparents expressed both concern and optimism about the contemporary working lives of their offspring. Lucille (Generation 1), for example, was worried about the challenges facing her granddaughters as women making their way in contemporary worlds of work. Returning to Maria from the first generation of interviewees, she was of the strong view that children [should] choose their careers very carefully… My husband once said that if he wasn’t paid for his job, he’d do it as a hobby, and I thought that’s the ultimate in choosing a career. And I don’t suppose I have quite as good as that… When I was first nursing as a married woman, women working was just a means to an end, it wasn’t a career at all, it wasn’t considered as though they should be ambitious in any way and it was only towards the end that I started to think of nursing as something for people to contribute to and… it was really just to make money (Interview 1995).

A 1995 dialogue between Maria and her grown children, Adelaine and Joan, highlighted the challenges facing women and their expectations for work and family life, and how this intersects with perceived issues of gender and mobility: Maria:

The big thing was that I was the first generation of women out working and I don’t think we handled it terribly well. There was absolutely no suggestion that a husband should have any responsibilities what so ever at home or in day-to-day decision-making shopping and everything else, opinions on where the family would live, and how they’d be housed, and that sort of thing didn’t come into it. It was still a woman’s prerogative as it had been when we were doing that full-time but then

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they just found themselves working full-time as well and I think the adjustment was mismanaged. Adelaine: Well, it still is being mismanaged. Maria: Well, not according to the magazines. Joan: But fundamentally, the women still do the day to day care of every child regardless. Maria: Maybe so men know that they don’t impinge if they’re putting in. They don’t have to come home and say hey. Joan: Where’s my dinner? They don’t say it anymore, but I think they still think it. Adelaine: I think it’s back-fired. Joan: What we can get a job now! Adelaine: Yes, but you’re made to feel guilty if you’re not earning… A woman should be everything, a worker, an income earner, a home provider… while I was growing up while Mum was working, I felt somewhat that the girls in our family weren’t pushed hard to find a career as I would want my daughter to [pursue a career] these days, that’s just the way things are changing. I think that it was far more important in our household that the boys decided what they wanted to do and do with their lives. We were given every encouragement to try what we wanted but it wasn’t the same pressures on us, which was probably a good thing (Interview 1995). It is interesting that Maria’s daughters challenge her on this point and say it was different for them as daughters compared to the expectations placed on the sons. This was a theme running throughout several of the older generations’ testimonies. Across all generations, parents expressed both desire and concern for their daughters’ educational and work pathways without explicit desire for them to do what they did, echoing research that ‘parents are more interested in supporting their children than in having them follow in their footsteps’ (Gale, Parker, Rodd, Stratton, & Sealey, 2013, p. 28). While the testimonies reveal many latter generations pursuing the same careers as their mothers, the influence of mothers on daughters was often not obvious or direct. As discussed in the previous chapter, intergenerational transmission is dynamic and complex (Bjerrum Nielsen, 2017). Kate (Generation 2) provided an illustration of this. Unlike her two older sisters, Kate left school early and went to dental nursing. But ‘whether I was influenced by mum or not I’m not sure’. After training for 2 years, Kate spent around 7 years travelling intermittently. Then, she decided to study recreation and, in her interview, commented. ‘Maybe we are quite similar mum we both wanted a bit more’ (Interview 2016). By 2016, she was employed as a practice manager for two dental specialists at Epworth Hospital, and had been so for around 18 years. Planning

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retirement, Kate was thinking about change: ‘in the next three or four years, I’m going to have to find something else that sustains me, and it obviously can’t just be travel. You can’t just travel all the time, so I’ve got to find something new to do. Study, or learn something new, or do something else’. Like her mother Peg, who was studying with the University of the Third Age in her later years, Kate believed she would also be seeking ongoing intellectual stimulation. For at least two interviewees, it was their sisters that influenced their career choices. Like her mother, Patricia (Generation 1) ‘did some kindergarten teaching’, but her choice to enter the profession was influenced by her sister, Inez, who worked on a mobile teaching unit that travelled ‘round in a caravan to the outback areas of Canberra’. Anne, the researcher like her aunt Inez also worked on a mobile kindergarten (see Images 7.3 and 7.4). This work was taken up as a graduate and involved moving to New Zealand. Kate’s sister Fleur (Generation 2) followed her sister’s footsteps into recreation. Aged 31 in 1995, Fleur was ‘not married and I get asked why not [laughs]’. After school, she had a few jobs and undertook a secretarial course before undertaking the recreation degree and that was good to do something different: ‘it opened my eyes to a few different things and led to work at the Victorian Institute of Sport to do the secretarial work’. Some research suggests that young Australians see themselves as copying their parents’ choices in relation to study and work (Webb, Black, Morton, Plowright, & Roy, 2015). Another study into the relationship between parent behaviours and child learning outcomes identifies no causal relationship between parental expectations and student attainment (Huat See & Gorada, 2015). Interviewees for this book indicate a rich variation of sources and types of influences on their transition choices, as was evident in the influences of Catholic education.

Image 7.3 Anne (co-author) in rural area of Taupo, New Zealand with Lakeland Mobile Kindergarten, 1981

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Image 7.4 Anne (co-author) in the rural area of Taupo, New Zealand with Lakeland Mobile Kindergarten, 1981

Influence of a Catholic Education: ‘It’s Time that You Spread Your Wings’ The influence of a Catholic upbringing and for some, a Catholic education differed within and across generations, as well as across the two phases of interviews. For example, Sue (Generation 2) in 1995 was teaching at a Catholic girls secondary college. She occasionally taught Religious Education, finding that ‘teaching its morality very easy, Gospel values I find really easy to teach but I have great difficulty teaching, supporting a lot of the ritual of the church…’ (Interview 1995). Others were more ambiguous. By 2016, Fleur (Generation 2) was working full-time in a Catholic primary school. Despite some turning away from Catholicism, she not only worked for a Catholic school but also sent her children to Catholic schools: and I’m happy for them to attend Catholic schools because, like [her sister] Kate, I think, the reason why you sent us to Catholic schools, mum, because they offer a pastoral care that is missing in government schools. I don’t even know if that is missing in government schools, because we’ve never gone down that path, but it’s certainly there in Catholic schools, and … there is a sense of community in the school, and … a sense of belonging, and that’s pretty important. They say that the church is not inside the four walls of the church – that it’s all around you – so maybe that’s the more relevant church now (Interview 2016).

In 2015, Sue’s response to teaching for 20 years at that same school took on a different perspective I felt that all of the years that I was away [overseas] I taught, except for once, I taught in public schools, and really hard, hard Catholic schools. So, I thought I’d done my time…

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And I had taught in the worst of the worst in Sydney, so I figured going to [a well-off Catholic girls secondary college] was okay, because I’d done my time. I also thought well you know I’ll do a good job there, they’re entitled to good teaching as much as anybody else you know (Interview 2015).

Felicity, her daughter, also had teaching experience at her mother’s school. She decided that ‘They’re great schools but I think if you are talking about the distribution of resources, it’s good to be involved in the government sector’ (Interview 2015). Then mother and daughter spoke of education from a social justice viewpoint. Sue shared her thoughts about educating leaders of the future and was of the opinion that a Catholic education provided a strong social justice foundation for young women Well it’s difficult to justify from a social justice perspective, but I guess I can maybe squirm around it a little bit and say that we are dealing with very able students, and you could fairly anticipate that they would be leaders of the future, and if their formation has been shaped by social justice, then that can affect the kinds of societies we live in. I think you can see that in many of our leaders who’ve had a Catholic formation, that they often have a stronger sense of social justice (Interview 2015).

Felicity agreed with her mother in that one thing I’ve noticed being in the government system is there’s a real lack of commitment to social justice. They have groups that respond to different social justice issues, but not that sort of, I guess that foundation that runs underneath everything, that I certainly noticed when I was at a Catholic school, almost that philanthropy or social commitment, the fact is that you had to help other people. It isn’t in government schools as it is in the Catholic sector (Interview 2015).

Bouma (2006) takes a broader perspective on social considerations arguing that religious identification, beliefs and practices are connected with attitudes ‘towards salient issues such as social justice, political preferences or ethical problems’ (p. 84). Rather than considering religious education per se, he draws on the work of Evans and Kelley (2004) to discuss the relationship between different religious practices to attitudes towards moral and political social concerns including abortion, homosexuality and marriage of gay couples. He writes that In general, the stronger the religious belief, the more often the person attends church, and the more devout the person’s family, the more conservative will be the position the person takes on these issues. However, the fact that belief, denomination, attendance and family background have different impacts on each issue indicates that they are separate factors to be considered (p. 84).

The Catholic Church, as an institution, has a conservative stand on the social concerns outlined by Bouma (2006). Although opinions on homosexuality and gay marriage were not explicitly discussed in the interviews, at times the relationship between politics and religion were alluded to. For example, Lucy (Generation 3) mentioned ‘I have been really open to spirituality and faith, although it’s never really been, like I haven’t really connected with it personally and I’m really challenged by the Bible and the impact that it has on Australian politics I guess’ (Interview 2016).

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Rosie (Generation 3), who was in Year 12 attending a regional Catholic secondary college at the time of the second phase of interviews, explained that they explore ethical issues at school. She commented that the stance provided to them was that ‘Christians are pretty against abortion and euthanasia, because they believe life is sacred to all people’. Joanne (Generation 3) who was undertaking study at Australian Catholic University [ACU] noted that ‘they make us do compulsory subjects, which a lot of people don’t agree with, because if you’re studying nursing it doesn’t really have much to do with your degree but it kind of does in a way, so one unit was all about the common good and then another unit was about human dignity’. Her mother Pauline, who is a nurse commented ‘I think that in terms of nursing they’re very important subjects’ (Interview 2016). Joanne went onto explain Yeah, I know but like people complained about it anyway. I do see its relevance in people’s lives and stuff but then I can also understand why some people would be against doing those subjects… Well it’s just an hour a week really and then you just have to write an essay, but a lot of people don’t really agree with what we’re learning, and they see it as really annoying. I didn’t mind it… It was just pretty much like an extension of high school (Interview 2016).

Another interviewee consciously eschewed Catholic institutions because of this continuity between Catholic schools and Catholic higher education institutions that Joanne described. Marie (Generation 2), daughter of Agatha, recalled in 1995 that going for an interview at Christ College [a Catholic teacher’s college], they took it on an interview as well as on results this fellow said to me that you’ve been to a Catholic primary school and a Catholic secondary school don’t you think it’s about time that you spread your wings and went somewhere outside the Catholic system (Interview 1995).

Olivia (Generation 3), like Joanne was studying at ACU. She described attending the university’s open day and telling her Dad, ‘ACU’s got the same feeling’ as a secondary school. The Catholic girls secondary college she had attended was a community to her in that it had a ‘way you feel when you’re there… [it] has this feeling that no-one can really describe’. Yet, Oliva expressed a sense of agency in that she was making choices about what to take and not take from her Catholic education and upbringing. She named herself a Catholic and she would like her children to be raised Catholic, but she will decide which aspects of Catholicism to follow. She claimed but you have to have the maturity to be able to pull away and say yes I have been brought up with a religion but I’m going to take what I want from it – of course like I want to raise my children Catholic and I’m not necessarily – I’m not saying that I’m not a religious person at all but I don’t see my faith as going to church every Sunday and reading scripture and knowing readings off by heart and stuff like that. I don’t see it in other parts of my life (Interview 2016).

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Work and Intergenerational Transmission: ‘I Really Wanted to Mother like My Mother but…’ Intergenerational transmission of attitudes and values are dynamic and fluid. It is more than just the adjustment to, or protest against principles, values and role-modelling of parents (Bjerrum Nielsen, 2017). Relations between mothers and daughters work on an emotional plane and there can exist in intergenerational relations shaped by Catholic histories a juncture between feeling guilt and making a conscious decision about an issue. Bjerrum Nielsen writes about the complexity of socialization and how it changes over time There are several reasons why socialization is not about mechanical learning or has deterministic outcomes. One is that the context for action changes over time – what is learnt will be put to use in new situations. Another is that experiences are processed psychologically and reconstructed over time in the light of new experiences. And, finally, this reconstruction or work of integration exceeds a purely reflexive or articulated level. What is transmitted may consist of more or less articulated feelings of self and others (pp. 10–11).

As in previous chapters, a relational sense of self on a number of levels comes into play with working life after study. Sue (Generation 2) talked about the indecision she faced in the 1990s going back to work with young children. She wanted to mother like her mother but was uncertain about staying at home and on the other hand returning to work. Sue described her feelings Well I really wanted to mother like my mother, but I hated the idea of staying at home. So throughout that time when my children were little, I was really torn between wanting to do in the work-place what I genuinely liked and what I thought I was good at and needing to be the person that I thought I should have been. All the messages that I got were that I was doing the wrong thing that I shouldn’t have left my children that I should be at home and I should be happy, but I wasn’t (Interview 1995).

Sue experienced ambivalence and internal conflict was when she made the choice to be a working mother. This meant that she would not be following in her mother’s footsteps and being a stay at home mum. Yet, as Bjerrum Nielsen explains intergenerational transmission is more than role-modelling. Sue’s daughter Felicity touched on the complexity associated with socialization when she explained how her grandmother and mother had passed on a broader notion of work: an ‘ethic of work’. I think we both sort of inherited mum’s and Mona’s [her grandmother’s] values of hard work and always delivering your best to other people. But like Jane [her sister] said, ‘I don’t think we have inherited… I wouldn’t align myself with the Church at all (Interview 2015).

In her conversation, Felicity connected the idea of work and a Catholic belief system. She noted that religion had not been transmitted intergenerationally in the same way as the value of hard work. Combining a Catholic upbringing with relating to people in a workplace can be challenging. Pauline (Generation 2) offered her perspective on how Catholic schooling did not prepare her for life in a more secular study and work environment.

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… most of the girls [I knew] went to Catholic schools so we all were at the same stage when we went to uni[versity]. We all went through the same thing. You believed in the Catholic system when you got out of school, but it didn’t really prepare you for life. It sort of prepared you for life in a Catholic school, in a Catholic environment but it didn’t really prepare you for working alongside or studying alongside people who had no beliefs. I guess there was a few challenges along the way (Interview 1995).

Work was a new situation for Pauline. It entailed a sense of self and others in a different way to her Catholic upbringing which had not developed in her an awareness of people who did not hold a religious belief system. Pauline reconstructed herself so that she could experience a world outside of the Catholic community that she had been raised in, and by. Bjerrum Nielsen (2017) concludes that ‘transmission may result in generational breaks and ambivalences, as well as continuities and reproduction’ (p. 10). In this study, such transmission also involves the passing on or not of religious knowledge that are implicated in a range of ways in mothering practices. Bjerrum Nielsen (2017) points out ‘generational transmission is in itself temporal and so are the different ages from which the generations talk about themselves and each other’ (p. 41). This was evident to some extent in this study when interviewees spoke of the influence of Catholicism on their post-school life. At different ages and stages in their life, they took on varying perspectives. French feminist psychoanalysis Irigaray (1993) writes that ‘Indeed, a little girl’s spirituality is not the same as an adolescent’s, nor a lover’s, nor a mother’s, nor that of a woman of forty-five or older’ (116). Generation 3 appear to be making choices in very determined and explicit ways about what role religion will play or not play in their lives. Lucy (Generation 3) commented that ‘I have always envied the comfort that people seemed to find in religion because I didn’t find much comfort in being cynical, although that’s where I naturally sit with it all. So, I am really open to finding a personal spiritual side, although I don’t really think it will be within the boundaries of a religion’. Her sister Anna, in contrast, remarked that ‘as soon as it was my choice, I dropped religion, I’ve never really connected with it’. In considering the question of ageing, Irigaray (1993) encourages women to free themselves up so as to realise their own identity. And it’s not always a matter of gaining something more but one of being capable of something less. Feeling more free vis à vis your fears, fantasies about others, freeing yourself from useless knowledge, possession and obligations… Growing older can help us to do it by crossing frontiers that then leave us more free to get on with accomplishing our identity (p. 117).

In different ways and at different life stages, the women appeared to be making choices about how religion would influence their post-school lives.

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Working Conditions and Transitions Location: Patricia’s home Anne:

Patricia:

Ronnie:

Patricia: Ronnie: Patricia:

My niece when she was asked about how she’ll look back on her life at 90 said, ‘Well, the world will obviously be overrun by robots by the time I get to 90’. I just heard recently from one of my sons, saying that – and also, I’ve read articles along the same line – the jobs will be done by robots. So, they won’t really need to work. I maintain they’ll need to know how to use the robots and prepare them. I think the other thing is that there are some jobs which will never be able to be done by robots, and those jobs are generally the jobs where you have relationships with people… in hospitals. In hospitals - Nursing units. People need to care. Social service, human services…

The testimonies of interviewees were in large part consistent with the experiences of women in general, especially for older generations in terms of work. That they were Catholic was a fluid point—particularly in the most recent generation. Understood within a wider context described in previous chapters, some aspects of post-school pathways that young people today tread appear to be changing. The events that usually mark the path towards adulthood are happening later in life, including when and if young people start families, purchase homes and get full-time stable work. But across generations, we can see that post-school pathways have always been uneven. Older generations sometimes expressed concerns about the working conditions of their daughters. Peg (Generation 1), a strict Anglican who had converted to Catholicism on getting married, commented that ‘It wasn’t like it is nowadays, [working life] was much more interesting, you were really a valued person in those days’. Uncertainty about job futures was expressed by a number of third-generation interviewees. It could be argued that this anxiety may be attributable to growing narcissism in the most recent generation or that young people have become used to being given things or getting things they want more easily, or at least believing they are entitled to getting things that they deserve (Smith et al., 2017). Recent studies examining the work values and aspirations of a young people reaching adulthood in the twenty-first century suggest both young men and women may have ‘excessive expectations for their careers’. It is argued that some young people feel that they deserve interesting work as well as high career achievement, as well as motivated keenly by pecuniary and extrinsic benefits, but at the same time less willing to work hard and compromise their values and beliefs (Kuron, Lyons, Schweitzer, & Ng,

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2015, p. 1003, see also Chow, Galambos, & Krahn, 2017; Krahn & Galambos, 2014; Twenge, 2008, 2010; Twenge, Campbell, & Freeman, 2012). But the women in this study did not give this impression. Instead, a more nuanced, fluid and variegated picture emerges. Some researchers have questioned a commonly held assumption that school to work transitions in the twentieth century were easier to navigate and necessarily predictable for either young men or women. Furlong and Cartmel (1997) are one example suggesting young people of earlier generations potentially felt exactly the same levels of risk and uncertainty as the current generation of young people. In the Australian context, Connell, Francis, and Skilbeck (1957) highlighted the insecure nature of the post-school transition landscape of youth in the post-World War II decades: The Sydney adolescent of the present day, therefore, finds himself in a situation whose stability is suspect, and the duration is uncertain. To learn how to cope with the insecurity of the present and with the problematic future involves him in the difficult task of learning not only knowledge, principles of present value, but also, and probably more importantly, the means and techniques whereby knowledge appropriate to new situations is acquired, and principles are modified, jettisoned, or adhered to, in the light of changing circumstances (p. 207).

The same could be said of interviewees today. Change and continuity are both evident in equal measure. The following chapters in this book will offer a more fine-grained close feminist analysis of how a Catholic upbringing impacts on values and ethics, hopes and dreams of the three generations of women who participated in this study.

Location: Patricia’s home … Claire, my niece, says, “I’d like to look back on my life with no regrets. I’d like to know that I’ve accomplished at least something in my life. It doesn’t have to be major, you know, world peace or anything, but just to know that I’ve done the right thing, and I’ve lived a different life. I haven’t listed my opportunities at every turn. It’s a pretty simple wish, I think.” Patricia: Yeah, Amen to that one.

Anne:

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Conclusion Throughout this part of the book, the stories of all generations feature aspects of continuity and discontinuity. Continuities were evident in their career pathways. While each successive generation engaged in more study and training, many followed their mothers, grandmothers, sisters and aunties into teaching and nursing. Others broke new ground, studying for and undertaking new careers in law, marketing and counselling. Discontinuities were also a fact of life across generations, with the youngest experiencing, for example, to illness, just as women in their families had previously experienced. Reflecting wider trends, the choice and timing of life events, such as starting a family, seem to be shifting to later in life (Woodman & Wyn, 2015). Some of the youngest interviewees explicitly described prolonging ‘adolescence’—again reflecting wider patterns amongst women throughout the world (Côté, 2000; Honwana, 2014). Their testimonies at times reflect a changing experience of adulthood itself, as researchers have found elsewhere (Woodman & Leccardi, 2015). What becomes evident in our stories of our interviewees is the non-linearity of life-experiences. Instability is a stable trait across generations. Intergenerational transmission was seen to be a complex, nuanced and dynamic process. Women looked back on influences on their post-school life differently at different stages in their lives. Grand/mothering and religion were influences that sometimes appeared intertwined and at other times shaped their lives in separate ways. It was argued that freeing up one’s life is as much a part of the ageing process and identity construction as the accumulation of new knowledge and gaining more. This returns us to the metaphor of transition raised at the start of this section of the book. While the metaphor of transition is contested drawing from constructions of adulthood in the literature (Furlong, 2015; Padawer, 2016), the transition metaphor can continue to have salience to incorporate this non-linearity of experiences. But even beyond these conceptualisations, transitions continue to have resonance at a common-sense level: young people continue to get older and go through different stages of life; they persist within each of the ‘realities’ that the women in this book ‘have to manage’ (France & Roberts, 2015, p. 219), as young people making their way in the world. The metaphor of transition thus still has meaning in the non-linear journeys of women from school to post-school life (Walsh, Keary, & Gleeson, 2019). Olivia (Generation 3) when asked ‘what would have happened for her by the time she was her grandmother’s age of 85’, in a confident way traversed a number of ideological positionings that shape, and are shaped by, young women. Olivia imprinted the future with life choices that have personal and relational meanings when she replied I’ve had conversations with friends like especially the whole being a young independent woman, feminism and all that kind of stuff. I’ve said to some people ‘I don’t have an issue saying that I see my life as white picket fence with the husband and kids’. And that doesn’t mean that I’m going back on my rights or anything like that. I still want to have a career and

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still want to do great things, but I think given the women that I’ve been surrounded by growing up I think being a mother could be the greatest thing that I could achieve by the time I get to 85. I hope that I’m a mother and an aunty and a grandmother just like these three. We’ll see what happens (Interview 2016). Acknowledgements The authors are grateful to Joanne Gleeson for her research assistance in developing the historical overview of this discussion.

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Report submitted to CQ University, Australia). Retrieved from Deakin University DRO website: http://dro.deakin.edu.au. Goldin, C. (2006). The quiet revolution that transformed women’s employment, education, and family. American Economic Review, 96(2), 1–21. Honwana, A. (2014). Waithood: Youth transitions and social change. In D. Foeken, T. Dietz, L. Haan, & L. Johnson (Eds.), Development and equity: An interdisciplinary exploration by ten scholars from Africa, Asia and Latin America (pp. 28–40). Brill Online. Hook, J. L. (2006). Care in context: Men’s unpaid work in 20 countries, 1965–2003. American Sociological Review, 71(4), 639–660. Huat See, B., & Gorard, S. (2015). The role of parents in young people’s education—A critical review of the causal evidence. Oxford Review of Education, 41(3), 346–366. Irigaray, L. (1993). Je, tu, nous: Towards a culture of difference (A. Martin, Trans.). New York & London: Routledge. Krahn, H. J., & Galambos, N. L. (2014). Work values and beliefs of ‘Generation X’ and ‘Generation Y’. Journal of Youth Studies, 17(1), 92–112. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261. 2013.815701. Kuron, L. K. J., Lyons, S. T., Schweitzer, L., & Ng, E. S. W. (2015). Millennials’ work values: Differences across the school to work transition. Personnel Review, 44(6), 991–1009. https:// doi.org/10.1108/PR-01-2014-0024. Padawer, A. (2016). Temporal dimensions of childhood, youth, and adolescence experiences: A conceptual discussion. Global Studies of Childhood, 1–14. https://doi.org/10.1177/ 2043610616671067. Sayer, L. C. (2005). Gender, time and inequality: Trends in women’s and men’s paid work, unpaid work and free time. Social Forces, 84(1), 285–303. Skinner, N., & Pocock, B. (2014). The persistent challenge: Living, working and caring in Australia in 2014. In The Australian work and life index 2014. Adelaide, Australia: Centre for Work + Life, University of South Australia. Smith, A., Bodell, L. P., Holm-Denoma, J., Joiner, T., Gordon, K., Perez, M., et al. (2017). I don’t want to grow up, I’m a [Gen X, Y, Me] kid: Increasing maturity fears across the decades. International Journal of Behavioural Development, 41(6), 655–662. https://doi.org/10.1177/ 0165025416654302. Twenge, J. M. (2008). Generational differences in psychological traits and their impact on the workplace. Journal of Managerial Psychology, 23, 862–877. Twenge, J. M. (2010). A review of the empirical evidence on generational differences in work attitudes. Journal of Business Psychology, 25, 201–210. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10869-0109165-6. Twenge, J. M., Campbell, W. K., & Freeman, E. C. (2012). Generational differences in young adults’ life goals, concern for others, and civic orientation, 1966–2009. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 102(5), 1045–1062. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0027408. Van Egmond, M., Baxter, J., Buchler, S., & Western, M. (2010). A stalled revolution? Gender role attitudes in Australia, 1986–2005. Journal of Population Research, 27(3), 147–168. https://doi. org/10.1007/s12546-010-9039-9. Walsh, L., Keary, A., & Gleeson, J. (2019). An intergenerational study of continuity and change in young women’s education and work trajectories. Young: Nordic Journal of Youth Studies. Webb, S., Black, R., Morton, R., Plowright, S., & Roy, R. (2015). Geographical and place dimensions of post-school participation in education and work [Report]. Retrieved from the National Centre for Vocational Education Research (NCVER) website: http://www.ncver.edu.au. Woodman, D., & Leccardi, C. (2015). Generations, transitions, and culture as practice: A temporal approach to youth studies. In D. Woodman, & A. Bennett (Eds.), Youth cultures, transitions, and generations: Bridging the gap in youth research (pp. 56–68). Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Woodman, D., & Wyn, J. (2015). Youth and generation; Rethinking change and inequality in the lives of young people. London, UK: Sage.

Part III

A Woman’s Life Reflected

Chapter 8

Mobility, Travel and Work: ‘I’d Like to Live Overseas Again’ Anne Keary and Lucas Walsh

Abstract The post-school pathways of the women in this study were fluid and non-linear. The lives of many interviewees of Generations 2 and 3 featured geographic mobility. Stories of mobility were diverse. In particular, relational, gendered, spatial and temporal influences were part of the journeys of the interviewees. Women moved along pathways from home and back again and in some instances, multiple times. Aspirations for travel, it was suggested by one interviewee, stemmed from volunteering experienced at Catholic schools. Family histories of travel influenced an ambition to travel. Mobility occurred for a range of purposes ranging from exploration of other countries, for purposes of work to fulfilling spiritual endeavours. These global experiences provided valuable employment opportunities and financial security, and were perceived as desirable; at times, becoming part of the lifestyle of interviewees.

Introduction Focusing on transitions from school to further study, training, work and family in the previous section centred on a particular kind of mobility; however, the testimonies of interviewees paint a more subtle and vivid picture of the role of travel in their lives. From the inward journeys of belief and self, to geographical travel across country and overseas, this richer picture of mobility is multidimensional and provides insight into the hopes and dreams of some interviewees for the future, which as discussed in this section of the book are expressed in fractious and sometimes tenuous ways. They also depict journeys far from home and family and then back again, with the family providing a kind of centre of gravity. Throughout this chapter, certain relational, gendered, spatial and temporal influences play a part in the journeys of our interviewees. Families, friends and a community to belong to play a powerful role relationally in direct and indirect ways in spatial aspects of the women’s life journeys. In youth studies, a spatial lens enables ‘understanding youth as a collection of social processes that unfolds in place, within the social production of space, and as part of networks of material and symbolic relationships stretched across the mutable territories of a globalizing © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. Keary, Education, Work and Catholic Life, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-8989-4_8

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world’ (Farrugia et al., 2017, p. 211). For example, women’s experiences of travel highlight the importance of spaces to their experiences of moving along pathways away from and back to home (and for some, away again). Aspirations for travel and mobility have been closely connected by some young people to the transition to adulthood (Robertson, Harris & Baldassar, 2018). Such a lens enables understanding of young people’s experiences in relation to broader historical, political and economic forces that shape opportunities for and challenges to them in particular places and times (Woodman & Wyn, 2013)—forces which we have traced alongside the testimonies of interviewees (both younger and older) throughout this part of the book. Relational and spatial influences interact with each other. As we shall see, interviewees draw on family histories and resources to pursue travel for a variety of reasons, ranging from exploration to work opportunities and spiritual endeavours. Sometimes the influences create tensions where ‘young people are torn between competing forces in relation to notions of home, tradition and fixedness on one hand and of mobility, escape and transformation on the other’ (Thomson & Taylor, 2005, p. 327). Reporting on a 1990s longitudinal UK youth transition study, Henderson, Holland, McGrellis, Shapre, and Thomson (2013) employ a broad definition of mobility including transport to access the community safely, travel, moving away from home to attend university and migrating for work. An important point they make is that ‘The part that mobility plays in narratives of transition is historically and culturally specific, with the character of youth transitions currently shifting in response to extended dependency and the expansion of higher education’ (p. 111). Travel featured prominently amongst Generation 2 and 3 interviewees. For Generation 3, some travelled with their families and individually for the experience of living in other places. Many participants expressed a love of or desire for travel —both at a national and international level. For at least one interviewee, travelling was a lifestyle choice.

Location: Patricia’s home, Melbourne

Anne:

All my nieces talked about their desire to travel. It was really important in their lives. And for our generation, post school, that was something that we all did, was go off overseas to Europe and travel. And in your later years you’ve travelled as well, Aunty Patricia? Patricia: Yes, that was to visit family. Then I’d fit in another tour as well. I would never have gone otherwise. Anne: What about the trip to Israel? Patricia: Yes, that was interesting Anne: Was that religious?

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Patricia: Yes, that was a religious one. Ronnie: I think that’s a really interesting distinction that you draw Patricia between travel for different purposes. Whereas it was different for us and the next generation.

Geographic Mobility and the Rise of the Gap Year: ‘I Know I Want to Travel’ The concept of mobility is part of young people’s notion of the self as they transition to adulthood (Henderson et al., 2013). Gap years open up opportunities for forms of mobility that take on multiple dimensions across different points of time. Gap years post school were more prominent in the most recent generation interviewed, reflecting a contemporary trend. Yet the gap year was apparent in the life course for some of Generation 2 interviewees. It is suggested they named and undertook the gap year in a slightly different way from Generation 3 and for Generation 1 it was not usual. A case study of the travel experiences of a Generation 1 woman will be a focus of the next chapter. In 1974, about four per cent of Australian students deferred tertiary studies, increasing to 10% by 1999–2000. Just under one in four undertook a gap year in 2009–10 (Lumsden & Stanwick, 2012). Like increasing numbers of Australians, Sally’s daughter Hannah took a gap year post Year 12. Some interviewees for this book took multiple gap years between different segments of post-school study. The idea of a gap year broadened in the interviews with a gap year taking in travel and work undertaken during and post-university education. Bernadette’s daughter Sarah, for example, described her life post school. ‘After finishing school, I took a gap year and worked for a year and came home and worked for a resort in Broome. Then I went to university and did my first degree, a Bachelor of Arts. Then I’ve had a few gap years since then and now I’m doing a Master’s in Applied Linguistics’ (Interview 2016). Eleanor, Cath’s daughter, took a gap year at the age of 26. She was interviewed with her mother and grandmother via skype: I’m currently in Mexico in the last seven weeks of a seven-month trip between Mexico, Central America including North America. I quit my job last year to come on this trip which am really pleased I did. But I am looking forward to coming home and getting my career started again and seeing my friends and my family and having my everyday life in Melbourne (Interview 2016).

Travel for Generation 3 interviewees provided them with time and a space to consider the next pathway to take in life. Lucy (Generation 3), Cath’s daughter,

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talked about the various career options she considered post the completion of her undergraduate Arts degree. Lucy in her early 20s was pulled by different forces including choice-making about further study, employment to finance her living expenses and a desire to travel. She described this time in her life: Five years ago, I was doing my [undergraduate degree] in Arts at Melbourne university. Then when I finished that in 2012, I enrolled very briefly in a midwifery degree, which I very quickly realised was not at all what I should be doing. I had moved out [from home] by then, so I needed to get a full-time job to pay the rent. I worked in reception and then marketing for a little over a year. Then I travelled for six months. I spent three months in Europe and three months in Asia. Most of that was by myself. Then, I came back and enrolled in my current degree, which is a Graduate Diploma in Counselling (Interview 2016).

Anna, her younger sister, talked about her general indecisiveness about what to do after university. However, travel and experiencing life overseas was one aspect of her life she was certain about: Yeah. I’m getting to the end of my university degree and then after that, I’m not really sure where I want to go. I know I want to travel and probably live overseas for at least a couple of years, just to see the other side of the world I suppose. But apart from that, I don’t really know what direction I’m going to be going in (Interview 2016).

Joanne (Generation 2) suggested that her Catholic secondary college stimulated her interest in travel, ‘I was encouraged to participate in volunteer programs and stuff and that kind of helped me—and that’s where I started travelling. So that’s kind of influenced me in a way’ (Interview 2016). Rosie (Generation 3) who was completing her final year at school talked about her post-school plans, ‘I think I’ll want to go travelling at some stage. I don’t really know if I’ll take a year off next year yet. But if I do, I think I’d want to travel a little bit and then start going to uni [versity]’ (Interview 2016). Snee (2014) contends that gap years are often perceived ‘as an opportunity to engage in individualised, reflexive identity work’ (p. 843). Her research into young people’s gap year travel blogs shows that it is young women who participated more than young men in this type of critical self-awareness. Lucy (Generation 3) was taking time off during her teaching degree to undertake travel. When asked ‘what do you think travelling will give you?’, Lucy replied, ‘Just maybe work, find out a bit more about myself, and experience some more places, and meet some new people, and just broaden myself a bit outside of just Melbourne’ (Interview 2016). Lucy’s idea of travel had an undertone of reflexivity. Although this canvassing of options was not considered by Generation 1 in the same way and seems to be a product of a privileged and choice-rich society.

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Other Versions of the Gap Year: ‘The Very Fabric of the Text’ In the 1970s, the term ‘gap year’ was not used by Generation 2 women, yet the idea was prominent nevertheless. Generation 2 interviewees tended to take time off for travel after a short period of full-time work. Working provided them with time to save for their travels. In 1995, Kate, Lucy’s mother, mentioned: ‘After I’d done my training for two years, I then more or less spent the next six or seven years travelling off and on’ (Interview 1995). Kate and Anne, co-author, travelled together with another school friend Bern during the early 1980s. Kate and Anne went their separate ways for 10 months. Anne travelled to Egypt and worked in Israel on a kibbutz and in hospitality. Kate was employed as a nanny for an Italian family living in La Spezia, Italy. Kate in her travel diary on July 1, 1983 (see Image 8.1) described meeting up with Anne ten months later on the streets of La Spezia, ‘with her pack on her back looking like a real traveller’. She continued, ‘spent all day just talking, then at 5 she collapsed. She’d spent six days travelling [from Eilat in Israel] without sleeping on a bed. Didn’t wake her for dinner’. Anne’s journal entry on 3 July 1983 (see Image 8.2) commented on the dysentery she had experienced in Asia earlier in their travels, an idyllic day’s sailing with Kate and her Italian friend around the islands near La Spezia and the relaxed time she had catching up with Kate (see Image 8.3). When writing about being excluded from her mother’s diary, Holmes (1995) explains how she sought solace in other women’s diaries to find out ‘how did

Image 8.1

Kate’s travel diary, 1983

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Excerpt from Anne’s 1983 travel journal

women make sense of their lives’? What were the metaphors and meanings women constructed through which to articulate their daily experience?’ (p. ix). Having examined women’s early twentieth-century diaries, Holmes expresses surprise that ‘many women gave no space at all to their emotional lives, and disclosed no secrets about their private thoughts, feelings or actions. Rather, they filled their pages with insistent detail…’ (p. ix). Anne’s journals of her 1983–84 journeys described the day-to-day happenings and routines associated with moving from place to place, finding accommodation, experiencing new cuisines and the people met along the way rather than a deeply reflexive style of writing. Yet, Kate and Anne’s journal entries provide insight into how they gave meaning to their lives and shaped their identities as young adult women. In accordance with Holmes sentiments ‘the very fabric of the text, in the renderings of “dailiness”’ (p. x) the journal extracts articulate a supportive and caring friendship that endures to this day.

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Image 8.3 Kate and Anne, La Spezia Italy 1983

Snee (2016) explores whether travel during gap years broadens the mind critically. She discusses the intersection of education, employment and the consumption of leisure travel suggesting that class shapes the cultural values that are seen to be important from such travel experiences. The gap years of these young women reflected a middle-class situation imbued with a Catholic upbringing. It is difficult to discern from this small-scale study what structural factors influenced the cultural values young women gained from their travels. However, notions of friendship and expanding personal learning were significant for these young women during their travels.

Missionary Work: ‘I’ve Had a Bit of a Look at Catholicism Working in a Variety of Ways When interviewed in 1995, Patricia’s daughter Margie (Generation 2) worked 6 months of the year in Melbourne, while during the other 6 months of the year she would ‘migrate interstate where I enjoy the warmer climate and I work with

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computers in an office’. When interviewed in 2018 Margie reflected on the 20 yrs between interviews, ‘Well I’ve travelled extensively around the world, been probably around the world five or six times, to many, many countries. I’ve worked in different countries, and got involved in ministry trips, missionary trips to Africa and Asia …’ Margie’s love of travel had not changed but the reason for it had. The focus of her work now was of a missionary nature. She explained the sense of community and partnership she found as a missionary. Missionary work has become an important part of my life in the last 10 years. I’ve been really privileged to meet many likeminded people around the world, and to partner with them. I would say Australia on the whole is a bit behind, the culture and as a woman missionary on her own, I would say I’m probably a forerunner, in comparison to other countries that will have, in comparison to America and England and Canada. More people do reach out, but in Australia it could have something to do with our isolation from the western world, I don’t know. But people are less likely to go off on their own and join in these missionary trips (Interview 2017).

Margaret, in 1995, provided context and background to her religious belief system which had been influenced by a range of experiences and ideologies: Basically, I’d never read the bible and I personally stopped going to church when I was about 14. I hardly ever went to mass because for me I saw, I saw as a Catholic the outward appearance of the church and I thought it was very false and very hypocritical. I only saw the legalistic law of the church, thou shalt not commit sin and thou shalt not do that. I never knew the person Jesus Christ and I never knew who he was and what he did for me. So basically, my faith was very much looking outwardly so when I when I went to uni[versity] all the ideas that probably Jesus himself taught I discovered in some of the teachings of Marx and Lenin. That I didn’t understand the Christian thinking either so Mum and I used to break out into all sorts of debates. So probably going to uni[versity] you do get caught up in all this left-wing stuff (Interview 1995).

Religion and more left-wing humanist ideologies came together at university for Margaret. As a consequence, she felt tension with the Catholic belief system she had been raised in and debates ensued with her mother. Patricia, her mother, in 1995 spoke of how Margaret’s changing views on religion impacted on their relationship. Patricia’s view was that what the Pentecostal Church and the Catholic Church espoused were much ‘the same thing’. Because Margaret goes to the Pentecostal church and now, she is developing a relationship in the Pentecostal church, I come in and question her all the way on it. And what was different and what did they say and what were we saying. And basically, they were saying the same thing (Interview 1995).

Margaret experienced a transformation in her personal religious beliefs at university. She argued that you can give a young child knowledge, but you cannot determine their faith And this was made real to me because it was like I was discovering it. And I personally think you cannot, you can provide children with knowledge, but you can’t give them faith. You can’t make them become a follower of Jesus. It’s a personal choice and I don’t think anyone can make that choice until they’re an adult (Interview 1995).

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In 2017, Margaret described her missionary role I’ve been fortunate to join in a lot of Christian organisations, not necessarily Catholic, but a whole range, and travel to the third world, and get involved in doing many helpful things. To me, my faith has matured to a point now where I’m looking at bringing life to people who are underprivileged in our society. That to me is the message of the gospel, what Jesus did, he always went to the least in the community, often the most rich and the most knowledgeable didn’t know their needs. That to me is the message of the gospel, what Jesus did, he always went to the least in the community, often the most rich and the most (Interview 2017).

Margaret as a missionary identified with Christianity rather than Catholicism. Her travels to the ‘third world’ focused on spreading the message of the gospel to underprivileged peoples. Taking a closer look at the interview transcripts, there were other meanings given to working in missionary contexts. Anne (Generation 2), Francis’s daughter, like the co-author Anne and her older sister Bernadette (Generation 2) worked in Indigenous communities in the 1980s. The two Annes were teachers while Bernadette was a nurse who worked in government as well Catholic Indigenous communities. Historically, the Catholic communities had been missions. Anne, in conversation with her mother Francis, commented it was a challenge to teach at Port Keats (now known as Wadeye), a community approximately 400 km from Darwin in the Northern Territory. In contrast to Margaret, Anne did not identify as a missionary. Here she is having a conversation with her mother, Francis: And you worked at Port Keats for two years. Anne: Yes, that was quite challenging teaching there. Francis: That was Catholic wasn’t it, it was a Catholic mission? Anne: It was a Catholic mission, but I wasn’t up there as a missionary (Interview 1995).

Catholic missions often focused on the provision of health care and education. Girola (2003) argues that paternalistic attitudes of Catholic missionaries towards Indigenous peoples were still evident into the 1970s and 1980s. Yet, during the 1980s exemplary bilingual education programs were operating in a number of Northern Territory Catholic schools. During this period, tension existed between the traditional role of the Catholic missions and the implementation of model bilingual programs that prioritised English language and numeracy skills and taught vernacular literacy. The importance of Indigenous language learning was recognised. Bilingual education had strong community support and guidance from specialist staff such as teacher linguists and community teachers. Teachers and researchers in these schools provided good education to remote Indigenous students, so they had meaningful opportunities later in their lives (Devlin, 2011). These tensions and contradictions were part of the challenge that Anne experienced when teaching at Port Keats. Letters to and from home were the main means of communication in the 1980s when these young women travelled and worked overseas and in remote parts of Australia. Image 8.4 is an excerpt from a letter Anne, the co-author, wrote home to

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Anne’s February 8th 1984 letter excerpt

her family soon after starting a position as preschool teacher at St. Therese’s school, Bathurst Island. She had been travelling overseas for the 2 yrs prior and was now returning to her teaching career at the age of 24. Bathurst Island is one of the Tiwi Islands in the Northern Territory off the northern coast of Australia. (The school is now known as Murrupurtiyanwu Catholic primary school). Stanley (2016) writes that Letters and correspondences are everyday documents of life strongly characterised by seriality and succession – their ‘one thing after another’ temporal aspect – and consequently they provide, not only a humanly rich data-source, but one particularly suitable for investigating changes over time (p. 60).

This excerpt from Anne’s letter home is a source for tracing and exploring the unfolding processes of change on a number of levels. What marked this period in Indigenous education was the review of bilingual education. The letter points to the importance of teachers in this era being familiar with Indigenous schools’ policies. Anne wrote, ‘this week we had meetings every week to discuss school policies’. Teaching was not just about being a preschool teacher but rather encompassed

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being part of a school community. Anne commented, ‘Being a teacher at St. Therese’s involves much more than your class especially as “Bilingual Education” is under review’. The job was totally consuming. On a personal level, the letter told of her adjustment to life in the tropics and the associated health concerns she was experiencing. Pam (Generation 2) in her late 30s was teaching ‘adult Aboriginal people as part of an Aboriginal teacher adult education program’ (Interview 1995). Twenty-one years later in her second interview she remarked, ‘Well for me being in Indigenous communities was life changing and there’s not a day goes by where I don’t have a vision of somebody or something or a landscape coming into my head. It was a really, really special experience for me, one I can’t really describe’ (Interview 2016). Social action underpinned the Catholic secondary education of these women. Casey (1993) documents the oral histories of a group of Catholic women religious teachers and refers to them as “teachers working for social change” (p. 29) claiming that ‘these women are authors of new social relations and new social meanings’ (p. 67). For the religious women in her study, she found that political action is embedded in an ethical vocabulary of love, care and solicitude with a central organising principle being religion. This notion of love, care and social action was also reflected intergenerationally in the lives of the mothers of these women who worked in Indigenous settings. Marie (Anne and Bernadette’s mother) was a nurse, Francis (Anne’s mother) a radiographer and then a teacher and Nadia (Pam’s mother) completed teacher education in her 40s. The experience of working in remote Indigenous communities provided these women with the opportunity to engage in social action and to offer good education and health care to Indigenous children. Greer (1991) writes that ‘On the question of religion, I think it is important to separate Catholicism from conventism. To be a Catholic is one thing. To be a convent girl is another’ (p. 92). This distinction in identity perhaps informs the meanings given to the work these women undertook as teachers and a nurse in Indigenous communities. Anne’s (Generation 2) final remark to her mother about her teaching experience at Port Keats was, ‘Well I suppose I’ve had a bit of a look at Catholicism working in a variety of ways’ (Interview 1995). Anne had been raised a Catholic, educated in Catholic schools, undertaken teacher training at a Catholic institution and had experienced life as a young teacher in a remote Catholic Indigenous educational setting. She had seen Catholicism at work as a young child growing up Catholic, as a school student and a pre-service teacher, and then as an employee of the Catholic church.

The Fluidity of Life After School: ‘Opened Up My World’ Life after school for Generations 2 and 3 reflected some familiar continuities. Yet, greater fluidity and mobility with working life became more prominent. Sue (Generation 2) ‘taught in places all around the country, and then when we came back to Melbourne, I did a Master’s Degree and worked at [a private Catholic girl’s

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secondary college] for 18 yrs’ until her recent retirement. Sue’s daughter, Jane, had also travelled with her work. After completing her Articles at Melbourne University, Jane moved to London for five years before returning to Australia. Marie’s youngest daughter (of five), Christina (Generation 3), was 22 in 2016. After high school, she travelled and worked in different communities along the east coast of Australia and America before returning to Sydney ‘to build something and working on boats and possibly looking to do some study…’ She also moved back to Sydney because her mother Marie (Generation 2) had cancer. After caring for her mother, she got ‘in the car again and drove around and worked at lots of different festivals and, yeah, lived nomadically and bounced around’. Having taken a number of gap years, Christina’s cousin Sarah also worked overseas for two years as an English language teacher in Vietnam for 18 months, prior to which she travelled throughout Southeast Asia. Eleanor (Generation 3) commented on how she ‘quit my job last year to come on this trip [overseas] which I am really pleased I did. But I am looking forward to coming home … Well hopefully, I’ll get a job in the pretty near future. I hope to have a successful career’ (Interview 2016). Sometimes, life plans were interrupted. Sarah’s cousin, Melissa was living in Rome in 2016. She gained a double degree in Medical Science/International Studies at a university in Sydney. Melissa was married in 2010 and worked in Italy as an English teacher privately in language centres. Her career was interrupted when she was struck terminally with cancer. She had second thoughts about her study pathway and wished that I had picked a degree that was more specific. So that you do your degree, you come out and you have a job, but that’s just because of the way the world is today. It’s so hard to get work (Interview 2016).

Joanne (Generation 3), who was completing her tertiary study was considering combining travel and work post study, ‘I don’t know, it’s kind of soon for me at this stage, which is a bit scary. I don’t know I just kind of want to find a job that I’m actually happy with. I’m thinking of teaching English overseas, I think that would be kind of cool, and it would mean I could travel and work at the same time (Interview 2016). Loreto (Generation 2), provided a longitudinal and more internationalist picture of work-related travel movements Twenty years ago, I was living and teaching in Melbourne. I was teaching in a Catholic primary school. In 1997, I moved to Jakarta and was teaching. So, I made that shift at that time to international teaching. I spent the next six years in Jakarta and then I returned to Melbourne for a year where I did my second Master’s degree, which was a Master of Education TESOL. After that year I returned to Jakarta for two more years. Then I moved to Beijing where I worked at an International school for six years. Now, I’m in Prague working at an International School. I’ve been here three-and-a-half years, so this is my fourth year working in Prague. So, that’s been a big shift for me from being based in Melbourne, living in Melbourne and working there to now, living and working overseas and being an expat[riate] (Interview 2016).

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Loreto felt positive about the mobile nature of her international employment and found a sense of belonging in the expatriate community. She continued Initially, I looked to go overseas because I was a little bit bored with what I was doing, teaching in Australia and I had done my first MEd and it was like okay what do I do next. Then, a big part of it was financial thinking, ‘right if I move overseas, I can save a house deposit and that would make the difference’. Because as a single person living in Melbourne on a teacher’s salary and paying rent, saving for a house deposit didn’t seem feasible. But the move definitely brought up a completely different set of opportunities for me and I realized that there was this wealth of International schools that I could work. I really loved that. I loved the people, the variety of people I worked with and the families and the students at the schools from around the world, because you learn so much from working and spending time with people from different cultures and different experiences. So, that’s been a big positive in my life. Also, I did save the house deposit, so I have a house to come back to one day. So, it ticked that box. But it definitely opened up my world in a much broader sense (Interview 2016).

Experiences of mobility are diverse ranging from travel for leisure, employment prospects, for broadening one’s horizons, accompanying family for work opportunities, religious reasons and so on. For some women, travel was a matter of moving to maintain social continuity intergenerationally. For Loreto, it was a way of establishing financial independence and security as a single woman. Establishing a new home base, whether permanent or temporary, is part of the travel experience. Becoming a member of a community and having a sense of belonging is an important aspect of travelling for these women.

Conclusion Many Generation 2 and 3 participants expressed a desire to travel, with some younger interviewees taking gap years at various times during their study and working lives. The stories women told of travelling were reflexive as they sought out mobility as a means of self-exploration. Kaplan in (1996) at the time of the first phase of this research wrote Like most moderns in the West, I was brought up to believe that distance gives needed perspective, that difference leads to insight, and that travel quite figuratively “broadening.” Yet is has also been my experience that travel can be confusing, distance can be illusory, and difference depends very much on one’s point of view. Thus, travel has not only provoked my questioning of official histories and ideologies…, but it has produced a profound scepticism towards the terms in which travel is described (p. x).

This questioning, scepticism about travel and mobility did not come through in the interviews except perhaps in the undertones of the missionary role and the questioning of the histories and ideologies of the missions. Travel, on the whole, was seen in optimistic, broadening of the self and positive terms. Families provided a centre of gravity to which interviewees returned, sometimes by choice and

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sometimes by necessity. In all, there was an interplay of relationships between gendered identities, gendered subjectivities and sociocultural opportunities and resistances across the life course (Bjerrum Nielsen, 2017).

References Bjerrum Nielsen, H. B. (2017). Feeling gender. A generational and psychosocial approach. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Casey, K. (1993). I answer with my life: Life history of women teachers working for social change. New York & London: Routledge. Devlin, B. (2011). The status and future of bilingual education for remote indigenous students in the Northern Territory. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics, 34(3), 260–279. https://doi. org/10.1075/aral.34.3.01dev. Farrugia, D., Wood, B., Bäckström, B., Bengtsson, Bäckström, Åsa, & Bengtsson, Tea Torbenfeldt (2017). Youth and spatiality: Towards interdisciplinarity in youth studies. Young, 25(3), 209–218. Girola, S. (2003). Motivations of Catholic missionaries working with Australian Aborigines. Australasian Psychiatry, 11(sup1), S24–S24. https://doi.org/10.1046/j.1038-5282.2003. 02006.x. Greer, G. (1991). In J. Bennett & R. Forgan (Eds.), There’s something about a convent girl (pp. 85–96). London: Virago. Henderson, S., Holland, J., McGrellis, S., Shapre, S., & Thomson, R. (Eds.). (2013). Inventing adulthoods: A biographical approach to youth transitions. SAGE: New Delhi & London. Holmes, K. (1995). Spaces in her day: Australian women's diaries of the 1920s and 1930s. St. Leonards, N.S.W.: Allen & Unwin. Kaplan, C. (1996). Questions of travel: Postmodern discourse of displacement. Durham & London: Duke University Press. Lumsden, M., & Stanwick, J. (2012). Who takes a gap year and why? Adelaide: NCVER. Robertson, S., Harris, A., & Baldassar, L. (2018). Mobile transitions: A conceptual framework for researching a generation on the move. Journal of Youth Studies, 21(2), 203–217. https://doi. org/10.1080/13676261.2017.1362101. Snee, H. (2016). A cosmopolitan journey: Difference, distinction and identity work in gap year travel. London: Routledge. Snee, H. (2014). Doing something ‘worthwhile’: intersubjectivity and morality in gap year narratives. The Sociological Review, 62(4), 843–861. https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-954X. 12116. Stanley, L. (Ed.). (2016). Documents of life revisited: Narrative and biographical methodology for a 21st century critical humanism. Routledge. Thomson, R., & Taylor, R. (2005). Between cosmopolitanism and the locals: Mobility as a resource in the transition to adulthood. Young, 13(4), 327–342. Woodman, D., & Wyn, J. (2013). Youth policy and generations: Why youth policy needs to ‘rethink youth’. Social Policy and Society, 12(2), 265–275. https://doi.org/10.1017/ S1474746412000589.

Chapter 9

Hopes and Dreams: Capturing What Is Not Yet There Anne Keary and Julie Faulkner

Abstract This chapter provides a glimpse of the hopes and dreams of four women as they are positioned within, and by, historical moments, spiritual and religious agendas and visions for the future. Throughout the chapter, parallels are drawn between the life experiences and foresight of women of an older and younger generation. The interview data was, at times, unanticipated and surprising as the women spoke of their futures in determined, fractious and sometimes tenuous ways. Young adulthood in the early twenty-first century is contingent and conditional but the question can be asked, is it any more so than for previous generations? Similarities and parallels were uncovered in relation to the hopes and spiritual ideals of the younger and older generations represented in this chapter. Importantly, it is discovered in relation to parallel stories were, and continue to be played out, in different ways and under varying social, cultural and religious conditions within and across the generations.

Location—Auckland, New Zealand

Ronnie: I have to say that I think that Mona would be very proud of us. Who would believe that at age four, when we used to go in your family’s pink Holden car …who would have ever dreamed that we’d be talking about their lives in a way that’s trying to really expose their everyday life …. would they think it was too showy? Would they think we’re drawing too much attention to ourselves? Anne: And to them? Ronnie: Yes, and by default, them. Anne: Yes, and I think they’d think we’re dreaming up a storm. I think Catholicism does come into it because their lives and their dreams

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were contained within the boundaries of their religion as well as … And for my mum, raising a Catholic family was her dream. Ronnie: That’s interesting that was her dream. For Mona, I don’t know. I think she would have been happier being a nun… It’s not to say that she didn’t like what she did, but she had other dreams that were very contained by her life circumstances which made her into this iron woman. The auto/biographical approach in this chapter, as with the analysis in this book, opens up a space to preview a holistic and vibrant sense of women’s lives, including gaining insights ‘[into] them as part of a historical ‘generation’ or more in timeless terms’ (Henderson et al., 2007, p. 14). Hopes and dreams for these women ranged from practical discussions about housing, to dreams of travel and living overseas, to a relational sense of self that centred around families, grand/children and friends to sociopolitical desires for more ethical and principled communities and religious and political systems. Conversations revolved around ‘the extraordinary’ such as travel and cosmic principles, to the mundane occurrences of everyday life “that give the extraordinary meaning (Allat 2000)” (Thomson & Taylor, 2005, p. 337). The following case histories illuminate the familial and spiritual practices associated with the notion of ‘hope’, as it is played out under varying circumstances. ‘Hope’ is understood as an idea that is socially constructed and that takes on different forms, different meanings and levels of significance within and across different groups and communities (Bishop & Willis, 2014). Discussion of ‘hopes and dreams’ by the women represented in this chapter was sometimes in response to a direct question asked by Anne, one of the co-authors, while at other times the notion seeped in and out of the familial conversations. The idea is not to suggest that ‘hope’ is manifested in the same way for all women experiencing similar circumstances, but rather to explore fluid feelings and practices associated with hope.

‘Idealistic’ Hopes Different photos of sisters introduce our exploration of hope—in this case, youthful, idealistic hope. A discussion of four women’s hopes and dreams follows an enquiry into what these photos might convey. A casual photo of Generation 3 sisters, Christina and Melissa (see Image 9.1), this composition has unintended classical resonances. The lines of the arrangement form a triangle—the wide, upturned brim of Melissa’s hat, the clustered roses in the bottom third of the frame. Above the girls’ heads between the wall and shrubbery sits an inverted triangle of white sky. The sisters happily intertwine while remaining

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Image 9.1 Christina and Melissa in 2017

distinct—Christina’s blonde curls and blue and white nautical stripes, Melissa’s red and white floral-patterned dress with reverse coloured earrings. Their broad, white smiles suggest they are sisters, sisters who are closely and easily affectionate with each other. Meanwhile, the black and white picnic photo of Inez and Patricia (see Image 9.2) sees the two young Generation 1 ladies eating, drinking and chatting in the middle of the bush. Again, reminiscent of classical art (Manet’s Le Déjeuner sur L’herbe), the two friends sit prettily among the grasses and trees, dressed in elegant

Image 9.2 Inez and Patricia in 1950

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sundresses and sandals. Their naturalness lies in sharp contrast to the dowdy fellow picnickers in the background gnawing on sandwiches—women in formal hats and a man in a full suit. The three young women again form a triangular composition as Inez and Patricia’s legs fan out to the bottom corners of the photograph. Lipstick and necklaces adorn the women and the unselfconscious smiles of the two highlight the simple pleasure of the summer occasion. Above all, the photographs radiate youthful hope. In Melissa and Christina’s case, it is the riotous red of the roses in full bloom, the dappled sunlight and dense foliage, the artlessly posed hug. Patricia and Inez appear to almost be part of the forest in their savouring of the outdoors. The two captured moments in these women’s younger lives linger in time, suggesting a view to ‘envisaging what is not yet there’ (Cuzzocrea & Mandich, 2015). These photos symbolise case histories that partially and contingently encapsulate the tenuous nature of the hopes and dreams of two sets of sisters. Cuzzocrea and Mandich (2015) articulate the ability to capture a story about what is not yet there as ‘imagination’. It involves being able to ‘project the self into the future, to foreshadow possible paths that are considered to be worthy for oneself and for others, i.e. are socially recognised as valuable’ (p. 7). In the first case history, Melissa (32 years of age, the eldest of five children, married and living in Rome with her Italian husband) and her sister Christina (22 years of age and the youngest of the five children) tell stories about how they think they might look back on their lives at the age of 90.

Location—Patricia’s home, Melbourne

Anne:

In the interviews I asked the younger generations about how they would look back on their lives… I explained that my mum Marie would have turned 90 in 2016. I asked, ‘How will you look back on your life at 90’? Ronnie: I asked my nieces as well. Anne: It’s about thinking how their future will be and how they look back on their lives…

Understandings are gained of how these two young women imagine their futures in relation to maternal family histories and the educational and religious opportunities that were afforded to them. McLeod (2015) suggests that too often in youth studies scholarship “the salience of interpersonal and familial relations” (p. 315) is obscured. In this snapshot, the two sisters wrestle with everyday ‘critical moments’ which have enveloped their young lives. Questions to come under consideration

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are, ‘How are their values and belief systems shaped by the way previous generations have lived their lives?’ ‘How do their perceptions of a life, lived now and into the future, converge and diverge from their maternal forebears?’ The notion of ‘critical moments’ is explored as a conceptual tool to determine how these two sisters view their imagined futures. Henderson et al. (2007) contend that a focus on critical moments draws attention to the significance of biography and the configuration of timing, resources and resourcefulness. The longitudinal approach enables us to understand how things that take place in a young person’s personal life (for example a bereavement) can have consequences that go beyond that sphere (pp. 20–21).

In this instance, sisters discuss their lives in the present and as they imagine them in the future. Henderson et al. (2007), in their United Kingdom study, discuss the ‘moral landscapes’ that young people are susceptible, to including circumstances out of their control such as illness. These researchers contend that some ‘critical moments’ in young peoples’ lives are more far-reaching than others. This was the case for Melissa who passed away in September of 2017 in her home in Rome, Italy with her mother, brother and husband close by. Melissa was interviewed by me, her aunt the previous year. Christina, her younger sister and I were at my home in Sandringham, Melbourne, Australia and Skyped with Melissa who was living in Rome. The conversation was uplifting and emotional, inspiring and touching. When asked ‘how do you think you will view your life when you’re 90? What will have happened for you?’, Melissa replied ‘Obviously, this is a very idealist question, because I’m only going to say the idealistic thing’. The notion of ‘idealism’ was tempered by the cancer treatment Melissa was receiving at the time of the interview. She underwent surgery in mid-2015 to remove a sarcoma from her thigh. Chemotherapy treatment ensued and was ongoing. Another ‘critical moment’ in the lives of these two sisters was when their mother, who lived in New South Wales, Australia, was diagnosed with cervical cancer just prior to Melissa’s diagnosis. Christina spoke briefly of the impact her mother’s diagnosis had on her life: ‘then I moved back to Sydney because my mum was sick and had cervical cancer, so I spent quite a few months just managing and dealing with that…’ Christina’s lifestyle was impacted upon by her mother’s diagnosis. Her focus became ‘managing and dealing’ with her mother’s illness. Her circumstances became tied up with the choice she made to help her mother in this time of need. Christina took on a caring role just as her mother had done for her earlier in her life. The emotional toll it took on her is reflected in her words. During this period of time, Christina’s every day was centred on the immediate needs of her mother, but this is not to say that she did not dream of future possibilities. These critical moments of illness were key to how Melissa and Christina came to understand their ‘hopes’ for the futures and their ‘narratives of self’. When Melissa projected her hopes for her imagined future, these critical moments faded into

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obscurity while Christina buoyantly commented on the prospect that by the time, she is 90 ‘hopefully illness and disease is something that’s been managed…’. The question about reflecting on their lives at 90 provided Melissa with a space to hope for a future that was full of relationships, travel and personal as well as social projects. Christina echoed her sister’s sanguinity and optimism and discussed her hopes for a more ethical and politically stable global climate.

Familial Relationships Both Melissa and Christina hoped that having a family would be part of their future lives. Melissa spoke of the enjoyment of potentially being able to ‘spoil grandkids’ and more so of raising her own children. Christina expressed her desire to become a mother and hoped that her children would have access to the resources required to ‘do what they wanted’: I hope when I’m 90 that I’ve had kids… As far as family goes that I’ve enjoyed being a grandma. I’d like that, like really spoiling my grandkids. Probably more so than bringing up my own kids … (Melissa) And have had a family definitely. I’d like to look back and see that I have kids who have grown up and done what they wanted; have been able to do what they wanted… and that at 90, if I am still alive at 90, I have grandkids and family (Christina)

Melissa and Christina, although unaware of it, reflected the love of their great grandmother—Mary had for her grandchildren including Melissa’s mother. My mother, their grandmother—Marie—in a 1995 interview related the story of her mother Mary: When I was first married and having a family Gran used to come all the way from East Kew and give me a hand once a week. She always had some lollies and jelly-beans or jubes for each of the children and they’d wait for her at the gate. She was a lovely grandmother (1995 Interview).

Melissa and Christina saw themselves as taking on traditional gendered maternal identities. Having children and grandchildren was important to them; Melissa in terms of enjoyment and for Christina in relation to her children having opportunities to fulfil their desires. These roles reflected not only their ideas about familial relationships being central to a fulfilled life but filtered back into the maternal practices of their mother who raised five children, and their grandmother who had seven children. Christina in her outlook projected the tenuous nature of life and commented ‘if I am still alive’ at 90. Perhaps, a long-lived life is not a surety for her, yet she is certain that she would like to experience a lifetime surrounded by children and grandchildren.

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Community Leccardi (2005) argues that young people face increasing uncertainty in their lives and there is an associated weariness about discussing the future; a future that infers a solitary journey towards adulthood (Cuzzocrea & Mandich, 2015). Some young people seek out alternative imagined futures to the ones projected for them by their families, schooling and communities; ‘this imagined future condenses needs that would otherwise remain unexpressed’ (Cuzzocrea & Mandich, 2015, p. 11). Melissa in her interview articulated her ideal future, one that transcended the medical condition and treatment constraints which enveloped her life. Her imagined future was uncertain at the time of the interview and it is difficult to know whether or not it was the one projected to her by family, schooling and her community. No matter what her future held, Melissa expressed her ambitions for a more balanced economic, environmental and political global life context. She was concerned about the broader sociopolitical context and people’s suffering: I don’t know. 90, yeah. I hope that the world on a global level finds a bit more of a balance economically, environmentally and politically. I hope that it reaches some good conclusions. I’d hate that if I was 90 and it’s still so chaotic and there’s still so many wars for such stupid reasons. And people suffering for such greedy reasons.

Christina, similar to Melissa in her notion of the ideal, spoke of not only her own individual hopes and desires but more so collective beliefs about the way governments function and enact policies: I would hope to look back and have achieved something and to have had an impact on the world, [that] would be nice; but even just on a community of people …or within a group. I would like to have done something which really has made a change in some sense or has assisted a change or a transition for the world or a group of people. …

Christina did not only want to explore the world but rather to modify it. In an agential way, she was expressing a desire to make a change; ‘have had an impact on the world’. Mobility is an important aspect of transitioning into young adulthood. Cuzzocrea and Mandich (2015) note that ‘…becoming an adult does not include taking an active part in the world; it instead implies discovering a place for oneself in that given world’ (p. 11). Yet, Christina seems to want to do both; that is find a place for herself in the world alongside moving her community forward. She continued: And with the world, I guess, very similar to what Mel said. Balance in the world. I would hope to look back and see that a big change has happened and that we are moving forward. At 90, the world is at a place where it’s being supported, like the environment and the world. The whole collective of it all is being supported … the government and the choices in a political sense have to move forward. But it all works in balance with people and mankind and, yeah, definitely the world. So, I would like to see that a global consciousness has come into play. That’s a really big, really big thing for me.

Cuzzocrea and Mandich (2015) talk of ‘mobility’ and young people and contend that one dimension of being mobile is

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to explore one’s predispositions, to understand what one really wants to become in life… By imagining a possible future, young people express identity and subjectivity, and this expression helps them to discursively position themselves within society (p. 12).

Both Melissa and Christina positioned their futures within a society that they hoped would have progressed economically, environmentally and politically. In their conversation, they searched for sociopolitical spaces that offered alternative possibilities to those currently available. In this way “mobility opens up new frontiers for the self” (p. 12). Melissa and Christina appeared to undertake travel to explore places and happenings alongside the spiritual dimension they took with them and wanted to explore. In a similar way to Thomson and Taylor’s (2005) findings about young people’s transition to adulthood, in their conversations, Melissa and Christina were divided between competing desires for family, tradition and stability in contrast to notions of escape and transformation. These competing forces Christina explained as, ‘After high school, I’ve travelled around working on different communities and just learning about different things and travelling. And now I am in one place, back in Sydney, trying to build something and working on boats and possibly looking to do some study…’ Meanwhile, Melissa hoped when looking back on her life ‘That I’ve travelled a bit more. I mean, I’ve travelled a lot, but I’d like to always be able to travel. I really love that’. Melissa’s desire to undertake further travel was mitigated by the constraints of her illness and treatment plan, but this prospect was of utmost importance to her. Notions of mobility were a focus of these two sisters’ hopes for the future. Their status as travellers in the past, present and imagined future was vital ‘both to the material and cultural characteristic of the environments in which they live and to particularities of family, culture and individual social location and agency’ (Thomson & Taylor, 2005, p. 328). These two sisters reflected agential and familial notions of the self that encapsulated an idea of mobility that was about finding oneself, as well as changing the world the self was to occupy.

Location—Patricia’s home, Melbourne Patricia: My sister Inez was like someone ahead of her time and her idea was to experience all these various countries and their lifestyles. Whereas that was not of so much interest to me at that time and probably not to the same extent ever. Ronnie: What do you think the difference was Patricia, for Inez? Patricia: She was not so much of a homebody as I was. Her life was more into experiencing. Maybe that was because she had spent many years being sick with asthma as a child. Maybe she got that feeling, while I’m well will endeavour to… Ronnie: eat life.

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Patricia: But it’s basically what happens in life that leads you in one direction or another. Ronnie: Did she have a family Patricia? Patricia: No, and so she looked elsewhere for experience. Anne: And at that time, it would that have been unusual for a woman? Patricia: Yes Ronnie: That’s so interesting. Then you’ve got the next generation whose kids are travelling. That was the thing in reading a couple of the transcripts from Anne’s sisters and nieces. The travel thing was a really… Patricia: big thing. Well mind you, we could not travel growing up. It wasn’t available. The war was on. You could not travel. Later on, Inez didn’t have the same responsibilities, she was not married. She was able to go on one of the ships in the 50s that came across with the migrants from Europe and travel back to Italy. It took six weeks or something to get across to Italy and it was her intention to spend time touring for a couple of years. Ronnie: And did she write to you? Patricia: Well, she wrote to my mother all the time. Melissa and Inez’s lives were lived in very different eras and took on different dimensions. Melissa was married for ten years while Inez remained a single woman. Yet, in other ways, their lives drew parallels. Both lives were full and active and moulded by their deep spiritual beliefs (although of distinctive leanings). They both suffered severe asthma throughout their lives. Melissa, when studying in Sydney in her early 20s, received a Medical Science/International studies double degree. However, during her married life in Rome, like Inez, she worked as a kindergarten teacher. Sadly, both women died at the age of 33; 54 years apart. Reflected in Patricia conversation is the strong and lasting impact her sister Inez’s early death had on her life. She spoke of how her sister’s death was a ‘critical moment’ in her life and ‘quite dramatic’: I felt strongly the death of Inez because we had grown up closely together. When we left school, we joined dramatic groups and social activities and we’d always do these activities together. We played piano and violin together. We were always together. And so, the death of her was quite dramatic in my life, I would have been 30 years of age and she was 33 (1995 interview).

The death of her sister Inez at the age of 33 had consequences for how Patricia viewed life. The emotional and psychological pain left her questioning her current belief system and shaped the way she viewed and experienced her future. Patricia turned to the Catholic faith she had been raised into find meaning in the enigma of illness and death. The death of Inez, her older sister’s breakdown 18 months later and a year later her husband’s sudden death, leaving her to raise six children on her

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own had ‘a very strong impact on my life’. At the age of 30, these three events occurred within a time frame of 3 years and dramatically affected her sense of self. She sought solace in her spirituality, at an individual as well as collective level. Patricia described how she responded to these overwhelming life events: … through these three events I gained a much deeper spirituality. I started to look at my relationship with God from an adult point of [view]. I read the bible from cover to cover. I went to various groups to take on a change from where I was at (1995 Interview).

In 1995, Marie, Anne, the co-author’s mother and Patricia’s sister, spoke of the faith that she believed her daughters still held, ‘You and your younger sister fell away, but I believe you still have the faith if only you would recognise it’. Henderson et al. (2007) suggest that religious identification and belonging ‘sit alongside the widely documented trend towards secularisation’ (p. 100). Religious belonging is about an investment in the self and can provide support during times of uncertainty. This idea was exemplified in Patricia’s questioning of her ‘relationship with God’ during a critical period in her life. She claimed that she found solace in a God which she now viewed from her adult perspective. Anne’s mother, like her younger sister Patricia, drew on her faith in times of trouble including when she experienced a breakdown in her late 30s. She explained, ‘Because it really is something you can hold onto if you’re very depressed. You know God’s there, and our Lady and the Saints will look after you. It’s something you can hang onto’. Melissa and Christina, two generations onward, also discussed forms of spirituality that sustained them. Melissa related, ‘I know that I’ll always be doing this meditation … so I’d like to always be doing that’. She went on to explain that her meditation practice was linked to a spiritual organisation that exercises a form of self-realisation: I grew up with meditation… maybe up until I was ten, we [the family] were doing it. I’ve always continued with it. I had a break in high school… There came a moment where I said I really need it. I really find it helps me…. And it is a main priority in my life. I meditate every day. I do many projects. We’re doing a lot of projects of relaxation in schools in Rome - inner peace day or various projects with meditation. Mainly as a way to really find that peace within and be able to keep a connection with yourself, with what goes on around.

Even though Melissa felt exhaustion and fatigue with the cancer treatment she was undergoing, she found the energy for daily mediation and school relaxation projects. For her, it was about finding peace within and staying connected to not only herself, but to the world around her. In spite of ill health, like her forebears, a deep sense of spirituality supported her. Christina explained how not only Melissa but her ‘mother’s side who are Catholics’ provided her with an understanding and ‘a sense of spirituality and faith…[it’s] really big in my life’. Christina spoke of finding her spirituality through a ‘sense of self’, and located religious ideals with realms of ethics and morality: In a sense spirituality and faith is really big in my life. What exactly I’m not so sure of. Growing up with [a form of religious meditation] …when I was about ten until I was about fifteen Melissa brought it back into focus in my life. It was a really great age to have it. But,

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of course, then there was exploration of the self and trying to find where and what I believe … I’ve always had a really cosmical understanding of [the] spirit. Also, then there is having family on my mother’s side who are Catholics. That is something that’s always been there and has been something I’ve respected and understood… And whether it’s through religion and faith… and a sense of self… and using it to be a better person morally and ethically… Having good ethics is really where my faith lies at the moment. I really believe in a lot of religions, practices and think they’re good.

Profound reflections on life and death, spirituality and faith are often associated with older people and the ageing process. Holmes (1995), an Australian historian, writes about the 1920–1930 diary entries of ageing women: As the diarists grew older, we can see in their writing some of the ways in which they came to terms with their increasing years, the different meanings age held for them, and the significance of the present and past… The concluding years of their lives were generally a time of reflection looking back on dreams realised, hopes fulfilled and pain and hardship endured (p. 153).

Taking into consideration notions of spirituality and faith, there appears to be a temporal blurring and intergenerational continuity for the women represented in these case histories; Melissa (32 years) and Christina (22 years), their great Aunt Patricia (interviewed in 1995 at the age of 60 and in 2017 at the age of 83) and Anne’s mother Marie (interviewed in 1995 at the age of 69). Although of different generations and experiencing their hopes in different eras of time and whether living in the present, remembering the past or projecting the future, these women’s spiritual principles mirror in some ways each other’s. In, and through, their spiritual principles Patricia, the great aunt, looked for change in her life; Marie, the grandmother, saw her faith as something to hang onto; Melissa the eldest granddaughter really found it helped her and for Christina, the youngest granddaughter, it provided an ethical and moral framework. The significance of overwhelming events whether in the past or present is heard in these women’s testimonies. Yet what is also garnered are expressions of hope. The great sadness is that the concluding years for Inez and Melissa occurred so prematurely. Still, the interview for Melissa provided her with a space and time to imagine being able to reflect ‘back on dreams realised, hopes fulfilled and pain and hardship endured’ (Holmes, 1995, p. 153).

Memories and the Manifestation of Hope Through the writing of this chapter, like Patricia, the co-authors ponder the enigma of the meaning of life and death, faith and spirituality. These case histories of Australian women, both young and old, provide insights into ‘critical moments’. Melissa and Christina expressed their yearnings and hopes for the future and imagined days gone by in moving and poignant ways. Kuhn (1995) writes that ‘The past is gone for ever. We cannot return to it, nor can we reclaim it now as it was’ (pp. 3–4). Still, can the past at times, be glimpsed

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in the lives of the next and following generations. Dreams and hopes of a prior generation perhaps can inspire the pursuits of future generations. Equally, passions and desires can be hoped for and experienced at any age and at any point in the life cycle. The future, as these case histories denote, is not always promising and can signify disappointments, disenchantments and lost opportunities. Nilsen (1999) suggests that hope is comprised of aspects which could get in the way of hope manifesting. These aspects cannot personally be controlled. Sadly, for Melissa her ‘idealistic’ hopes for children and grandchildren will not be realised. Memory work is ongoing and will permeate stories yet to be told. When pondering travel into the future Melissa commented that she hoped that she could see more of her sister Claire’s children, ‘…it will be much easier to visit each other and so, yeah, by 90 we’ll have been able to spend much more time together’. Although Claire’s children will not be able to meet their Aunt Melissa in person, she will visit them by living on in the memories that family and friends have to share, with every story further questions will be raised and there will always be something else to look into. And as for Christina, perhaps she can find solace and consolation in the meditation that was central to Melissa’s life and the deep Catholic faith of her grandmother and great Aunt Patricia that she learned to respect and understand.

References Bishop, E. C., & Willis, K. (2014). ‘Without hope everything would be doom and gloom’: Young people talk about the importance of hope in their lives. Journal of Youth Studies, 17(6), 778– 793. Cuzzocrea, V., & Mandich, G. (2015). Students’ narratives of the future: Imagined mobilities as forms of youth agency. Journal of Youth Studies. Henderson, S., Holland, J., McGrellis, S., Sharpe, S., Thomson, R., & Grigoriou, T. (2007). Inventing adulthoods: A biographical approach to youth transitions. London, Thousand Oaks and New Delhi: Sage Publications. Holmes, K. (1995). Spaces in her day: Australian women’s diaries 1920–1930s. Allen and Unwin: St. Leonards, NSW. Kuhn, A. (1995). Family secrets. New York and London: Verso. Leccardi, C. (2005). Facing uncertainty: Temporality and biographies in the new century. Young: Nordic Journal of Youth Research, 13(2), 123–146. McLeod, J. (2015). Gender identity, intergenerational dynamics, and educational aspirations: Young women’s hopes for the future. In J. Wyn & H. Cahill (Eds.), Handbook of children and youth studies. Singapore: Springer. Nilsen, A. (1999). Where is the future? Time and space as categories in analyses of young people’s images of the future. Innovation: The European Journal of Social Science Research, 12(2), 175–194. Thomson, R., & Taylor, R. (2005). Between cosmopolitanism and the locals: Mobility as a resource in the transition to adulthood. Young: Nordic Journal of Youth Research, 13(4), 327– 342.

Chapter 10

Lies, Secrets and Silences: ‘That was a Disappointment’ Anne Keary

Abstract The absence of the detailed documentation of Catholic mothers and daughters’ daily lives, past and present, along with a vested interest in the nature of power and representation of women and the construction of feminine silences in the Catholic church enticed me the auto/biographer to write this book. In the interview process as a researcher, I found myself hearing stories about the ‘lies, secrets and silences’ (Rich, 1979) that shroud the Catholic church as an institution. Women used the interview space to discuss and express their viewpoints on the politics of community and religion. One topic which emerged in their conversations was that of the Australian Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse. The older generations, in particular, expressed dismay and anger at the sexual abuse of children by clergy in parish communities including their own local parishes. A hidden, deceitful and tainted history had played out close to their families, homes and schools. The impact that this stained history and its disclosure had on the women’s attitudes towards the Catholic church as an institution and their personal religious belief systems became apparent in the interviews.

Telling and Tellability In this study, girls and women used the interview space to talk about the politics of community and religion. One topic which emerged in the conversations between mothers and daughters was that of the recent Australian Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse. The older generations, in particular, expressed dismay and anger at such a hidden and deceitful history that played out so close to their families, homes and schools. The impact that this toxic history and its disclosure have on their religious belief systems becomes apparent in the ensuing discussion. The tainted history of the Catholic church was touched on in Ronnie and my conversations as two paedophile priests skirted the perimeters of our young lives. One was a curate at St. Finbar’s parish in the 1960s and the other was a parish priest at St. James; the adjoining church to Star of the Sea College where we attended secondary school. We both had stories to tell of these priests. Today St. James, a © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. Keary, Education, Work and Catholic Life, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-8989-4_10

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burnt down church scars the affluent landscape of Brighton. The charred remains of this old building represent a blemished history of the Catholic Church which, as this book is written, is being battled out in the Victorian justice system.

Location: Star of the Sea College

… the elephant in the room is the burnt down church which is next door to where we’re having this conversation. Ronnie: Knowing now the hypocrisy of what went on. Anne: The Star Chapel had more significance for us; we rarely went into St. James for school functions. But for some of the women in this study, it was their local church. Ronnie: Every time I drive past it, I remember how my mother didn’t like the priest there and so stopped going altogether even if it meant that she couldn’t get to mass. She wouldn’t go when he was on. She would say -, ‘there’s something about this guy that I don’t like. He’s showing us a performance’, which she felt was very inappropriate. Anne:

The sexual abuse of children by Catholic clergy was an emotive and sensitive topic both throughout the first and second phase interviews of this study, and also during the writing of this book. It touched all the women in different ways and the suspicions and inside knowledge of the older generations ring true as the findings from the Australian Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse are released. This Royal Commission was announced on 12 November 2012. It followed on from Australian State initiatives—Victoria’s Parliament’s Inquiry into the Handling of Child Abuse by Religious and Other Organisations in addition to a New South Wales Special Commission of Inquiry. The Australian Royal Commission was in the main spurred on by abuse allegations within religious contexts with a particular focus on activities in the Catholic church. Middleton et al. (2014) contend that ‘While an issue for all churches, the Catholic church has eclipsed other religious institutions in the extent of child sexual abuse allegations made against them’ (p. 18). Self-professed feminist Rich (1979, p. 186) refers to Nellie Morton’s (who influenced a generation of women in the field of Theology) act of‘ hearing each other into speech. How do we listen? How do we make it possible for another to break her silence?’ During phase one of the research which took place in the mid-1990s, the extent of the child sexual abuse in the Catholic church had not fully come to light and perhaps, even though there were concerns regarding sexual

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misconduct of clergy, the ‘telling and tellability’ of this type of story in a shared forum such as a research interview the women may not have felt comfortable discussing the topic. The breaking of silence on this topic was not an easy task. The youngest generation did not express their viewpoints on this topic to the same extent as Generations 1 and 2. Perhaps, this was because the issue impacted on them in a different way and not to the same extent.

Backdrop to the Study In 1995, the religious cultural milieu for the first phase of interviews was the beatification of Mary MacKillop, the founder of the Josephite order of nuns. It was reported in the media (ABC News, 2010) that Mary was excommunicated by the church as she exposed a priest who was abusing children, ‘In 1871, after only four years as a nun, she was excommunicated from the Roman Catholic Church and turned out onto the street with no money and nowhere to go’ (ABC News). Five months after her banishment, a Bishop on his deathbed gave instructions that Mary be absolved, and her religious position restored. In 2009, 100 years after the death of Mary, the Archbishop of Adelaide made a public apology to the sisters of St. Josephs for Mary’s unjust excommunication, ‘On behalf of myself and the archdiocese I apologise to the sisters, especially to the sisters for what happened to them in the context of the excommunication when their lives and their community life was interrupted, and they were virtually thrown out on the streets and that this was a terrible thing’. As phase one interviews took place in family homes, the television in the background celebrated Mary MacKillop’s beatification; a significant event in Australian Catholic Church history. Pat (Generation 1), in a conversation with her daughters Mary and Fiona (Generation 2) talked about how Mary was central to her prayers and thoughts: Mary: Well, why do you pray to Our Lady [Mary, mother of Jesus]? Pat: Well, because she’s the mother image and I’ve been a mother and I’ve asked her to help me and guide me… Fiona: And you pray to St. Christopher if we’ve lost something. Pat: Oh, and I’ve got St. Anthony on the go and now it will be Mary MacKillop… Anne: Why Mary MacKillop? Pat: Well I think she was a wonderful lady and I think she’s going to do great things (Interview 1995). Pat thought Mary MacKillop is ‘going to do great things’. McCreanor (2001) picks up on this point when she considers Mary’s sainthood. She discusses how Mary’s work was not only grounded by her powerful faith but with Sainthood.

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Mary’s work, the Catholic church contends, takes on a non-rational form with its saintly ways. McCreanor explains that: ‘… sainthood contests the dominance of rational discourse by its reliance on wonder-working as a field of saintly intervention and social action’ (p. 32). In contrast, the second phase of interviews coincided with the Australian Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse. The issue of child sexual abuse in the Catholic church by clergy became further intensified during the writing of this book. In June 2017, Australia’s senior Catholic prelate and one of Pope Francis’ top advisors, Cardinal George Pell, was charged with sexual assault by the Australian State of Victoria police. It was difficult at the time of the writing of this book to gain information about the committal hearing as Pearson (2018, March 21) notes, In Victoria, where Pell’s committal hearing is taking place, the accused can usually be identified. However, other restrictions apply either under legislation or in suppression orders issued by a presiding judge or magistrate.

During the production of the book the suppression order was lifted, and it became public knowledge that a jury had found Pell guilty of historical child sexual abuse of two 13-year-old choir boys. The incidents occurred at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Melbourne in the late 1990s. He was sentenced to 6 years jail with a non-parole period of 3 years and 8 months. Pell’s legal team have lodged an appeal against his conviction. Some research has been conducted into the spiritual implications for women who are survivors of sexual abuse within religious settings and for those who were sexually abused in other contexts (Crisp, 2012). However, the issue of spiritual abuse and trauma and the impact of the clerical child sex abuse crisis on the beliefs and faith of the congregation is under researched. The topic was not explicitly raised by the researcher in the interviews, yet it became evident that it was of considerable concern for some of the research participants. Not necessarily because the women spoke of being victims of clerical sexual abuse or that their families had been impacted directly. Nevertheless, it became apparent that it had marked the women’s own personal belief systems. The scandal influenced the women’s relationship with the Catholic church as an institution and as a keeper of religious history and knowledge. It shaped the way in which some women viewed the hierarchy and authority of the Catholic church.

In the Shadows Adrienne Rich, in her 1976 book ‘Of woman born: motherhood as an experience and institution’, distinguishes between motherhood as an institution under patriarchy and mothering as an experience. Rich wrote as a mother, daughter, as a scholar taking her theory from various disciplines, and as a woman. She claimed that she could not escape from including the personal in her account of motherhood.

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Rich contended that men have held the power over how, when and where women should mother and have convinced women that, as women, they need to mother. This ideal has directed women into the domestic sphere and away from the public domain of society. Rich also argues that patriarchy has controlled the relationships women have with their children. In this chapter, women as mothers and daughters, and supported by the writing of scholars from a range of disciplines, discuss from personal experience how the Catholic church has infiltrated their relationships as mothers and daughters. The lies, secrets and silences (Rich, 1979) of the Catholic church, particularly on the subject of the sexual abuse of children by clergy, permeated the women’s conversations; at times, in tense ways. As an institution, the church historically has and, in contemporary times continues, to keep women in the shadows of its hierarchical male-dominated epicentre of power and influence. Rafferty (2015) discusses the politics that underpin the governance of the Catholic church as an institution: The challenge for women in the Roman Catholic Tradition is not necessarily the Church as an institution per se but with the ideological and ethical stance of those given charge of its governance; the age-long difficulty has always been whether the power intrinsic to its office is played out as power over or power with. The authority and power given to the role of the Institution make those who administer it important political players conveying and establishing ideological and political views. That this power is kept solely in the control of men betrays the patriarchal power system at work in the church and the gender politics at the heart of the Liturgy of the Eucharist; that it is believed to be divinely mandated calls into question not only the politics of the Vatican but also for women, who are at the bottom of the hierarchical power structure of patriarchy, the nature of the divine is itself brought under scrutiny (p. 304).

Rafferty considers the political nature of the governing male body of the Catholic church who assert ‘divine authority’ to delineate and control the church’s teachings. This sense of power and control filters down to the priests who are guided by the Vatican to preach and sermonise. The gender politics and subservient positioning of women which is at the heart of the Catholic church is represented by the all-male priesthood. This system of patriarchy is founded on the sanctification of men and is bounded by a man-made hierarchical system of control that operates at not only the level of the Vatican but at the archdiocese and parish level as well where lies, secrets and silences are constructed and endorsed. Rich (1979) probes issues of secrets that are often consigned to ‘silence’ and covered over by ‘lies’ including those by dominant patriarchal systems. Like this book, Rich’s work is autobiographical and focuses on women’s history. Part of the story of women’s history in this chapter is how the sexual abuse of children was hidden within a cone of silence and deceit by the Catholic church hierarchy. This deceitfulness was conducted in a way that parishioners and employees of the church were left suspecting but had few means to pinpoint and disclose the distrustful and suspicious behaviour of not only the abusers, but also those in power who concealed consecrated priests’ abhorrent behaviour.

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Duplicity and Betrayal: Mid-1990s Rich (1979) writes of the power of women speaking about their secrets. She sees this sharing as a means of transformation and bringing about change: one of the most powerful social and political catalysts of the past decade has been the speaking of women with other women, the telling of our secrets, the comparing of wounds and the sharing of words. The hearing and saying of women has been able to break many a silence and taboo: literally to transform forever the way we see (pp. 259–260).

The women in this study shared what they know and knew about the sexual abuse of children by Catholic clergy. They spoke of how they felt betrayed by the Catholic church. Although not as frequently as in the second phase of interviews, on a few occasions the subject of child sexual abuse by Catholic clergy was raised in the 1995 mother–daughter interviews. The subject was initiated by Pam (Generation 2) while discussing her own intense resentment of the church. Pam spoke to her mother Nadia and sister Cilla of the sexual abuse proffered by the Christian brothers on Bathurst Island, an Aboriginal community in the Northern Territory of Australia: Pam:

Nadia: Pam: Cilla: Pam:

Oh, all this stuff keeps coming to light, like the Christian Brothers on Bathurst Island… There’s all this stuff coming to light about abuse. Oh, it just stinks. It is horrific, it is but Pam do you realise they’re not the only ones… Oh, of course … these people are doing things in the name of God. They’re enticing people who are innocent. I think it’s lying to people… deceiving people … (Interview 1995).

Pam spoke of the broader religious and institutional deception exemplified by the cover-up of child sexual abuse within an Aboriginal community. She, along with her sister Cilla, shared their thoughts on a topic which had been silenced. Anne (Generation 2), like myself, was a teacher on an Aboriginal community in the Northern Territory in the mid-1980s. Both communities were served by the Christian brothers. Anne, in her second phase interview, confirmed Pam’s story of the child sexual abuse that occurred on Bathurst Island. She spoke of how she ‘winces’ when she hears ‘the talk of the paedophilia and abuse in the Catholic system’. She recalled: I remember all those years ago working in Wadeye and when we went to visit the Tiwi Islands … there was a priest the year after I left Wadeye- he was found to have been abusing children for twelve years or more…. at Bathurst and there’s possibly people in the Wadeye community also who’d been shipped there … (Interview 2016).

These women recoiled at the stories of child sexual abuse and how it took place in a veil of silence. Rich (1979) associates lying and deceit with the notion of trust. She discusses the way in which a loss of trust results in a reconsideration of how we define trust and the way it impacts on one’s whole sense of being, ‘When we

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discover that someone we trusted can be trusted no longer, it forces us to re-examine the universe, to question the whole instinct and concept of trust’ (p. 192).

The Congregation: Undermining Their Faith

Location: St. Finbar’s church, East Brighton

Anne:

Currently, the backdrop to our conversations is the Royal Commission into Institutionalised Child Sexual Abuse… My own memories of St. Finbar’s are tainted. In grade two we had a priest who was called Billy Baker. I remember one day he came up and called me ‘Bluey’, because of Ronnie: Yeah, because of your red hair. Anne: I’d never heard that term before. I went home very upset and I didn’t like him after that. Ronnie: Did you say anything to your mum or dad? Anne: No, I don’t think I did. I can’t really remember. I think I asked them what ‘bluey’ meant. Anyway, it wasn’t until many years later that he went to prison for abusing children within this parish and other parishes… It’s a beautiful church on the one hand but there’s great sadness here as well. Ronnie: We did not talk about that 20 years ago. I think Irigaray (2008) talks about how conversations are not neutral, it’s not a sterile truth, but the truth is often more messy, more bloody, more difficult than how lives are portrayed in other ways. So, it is important to have contradictions in the church exposed.

In time, the public revelations of abuse changed the way society and the congregation viewed the Catholic church and its positioning within their own lives and society at large. During the second phase of the longitudinal study, the subject of child sexual abuse in the Catholic church had intensified and emotions were heightened as the extent of the abuse was becoming even more evident. It was a subject that touched and affected the women in a multitude of ways. Catholic clergy were revered and held in high esteem by many of our parents and grandparents. Women from the older generations spoke about the challenges the issue presented to them not only because of the extent of the abuse but moreover, because of the way in which the Catholic church had responded in an

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insensitive manner to the victims of abuse. The silencing of the victims was perceived as another form of manipulation and coercion. Some of the women described how it made them more sceptical towards priests and the church hierarchy. Bernadette (Generation 2) explained: Well, I think the child abuse thing does touch you, especially because when we grew up priests were revered in our family. I think they were treated as someone special as having a holiness about them and the same with the nuns… I think the child abuse thing challenges you in that the church has responded so poorly to it and not compassionately to people that have been affected. I don’t think those abused would ever get over it, no matter what the response, but I think they could have been treated… it must be terrible not to be believed for so many years and to have to have a Royal Commission really for it all to come out. So, yes, I think people will always be a bit more sceptical about the priests and the hierarchy of the church (Interview 2016).

For some women, this distrust was tempered by the actions of Pope Francis who was elected as head of the Catholic church in March 2013. His social justice agenda does not refute the women’s scepticism at what has occurred but mitigates their anger towards the church as an institution. Bernadette continued: ‘…I do believe Pope Francis is a leading light in humility and focuses on the needs of the poor and marginalised people, which is good’. McPhillips (2016a, b) also believes that Pope Francis’ shift in papal attitudes to a range of contentious issues shows his ‘compassion and theological liberalism in his treatment of thousands of marginalised Catholics’. Still, she questions whether the language and patriarchal discourse of the Catholic church has fundamentally changed: The image of the church as a sort of humane theological triage unit saving people from danger might be engaging but is this the basis for real change in the church? Or merely a softening of language that will keep intact oppressive doctrines and a bureaucratic culture that is often conceived as medieval and misogynistic?

For women, like Pat (Generation 1) who were raised and educated in Catholic schools in the old-style, the challenge in thinking through the abuse scandal and the way it impacts on her relationship with ‘God’ is not easy. Pat explained the dilemma to her daughters—Mary and Fiona—and granddaughter Olivia: Pat: What has been happening in the church has been absolutely tremendously Mary: devastating. Pat: Yes, and a lot of people have turned their back on the church because of that situation…Well the priests that have been paedophiles. There’s another one that’s in court today I believe. Mary: I think you have found that quite challenging. Pat: Very hard. When we were growing up, we used to be told when we went to confession… pray for the priest. I used to think well why do they need prayers, but look you could talk for hours on religion and I don’t think people have turned their back on God. I’m sure they haven’t. I hope not… (Interview 2016).

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Loreto (Generation 2), in her 2016 interview, articulated the distinction she makes between faith and the institutional structures that bind it. She believes that the Catholic system is largely made up of ‘good people’: I don’t know whether it’s because I’ve worked in Catholic schools; I worked with nuns as fellow teachers, as colleagues. I had priests who were basically my boss. I definitely separate faith from the institution, from individuals in a way…. But I wouldn’t want to say the Catholic church as such is bad because there are so many good people. There are so many people of such strong faith that do such wonderful things. In generalizing and saying that the Catholic church is bad… It’s almost like you’re undermining their faith or saying what they believe isn’t relevant or isn’t important or that they’re deluded (Interview 2016).

Courtin (2013), in a commentary on the Catholic church, like Loreto, notes that there are many notable and good people taking up a range of roles within the Catholic church. However, she takes the discussion further and makes observations about the power held by the male hierarchy of the church. Courtin suggests that this control needs to be let go of, so the congregation can ‘be the church’ rather than power being totally held by an ‘ageing boys club’: There are many thousands of good Catholics in Australia and the employment of 180,000 workers is a good thing. But if Rome and its extremely powerful, wealthy and ageing boys club (including Cardinal George Pell) want to be relevant in 2013 and beyond, they must match their power and authority with compassion, responsibility and accountability – both civic and moral. They must also relinquish their questionable hold on power allowing the people, women and men equally, to be the church.

Separating one’s faith and the institution of the church appeared to be one way some of the women in the study reconciled the hypocrisy and deceit associated with the sexual abuse scandal. Smethurst and Harrod (2019) tell the story of Margaret Harrod (the co-author) and the cost she incurred whistleblowing on her twin brother, a Salesian priest’s, molestation of children. Margaret was a nun and is a survivor of sexual abuse. She lost everything as a consequence of disclosing her brother’s paedophilia to church officials. She explains that the Catholic church as an institution let her and many others down: The church was my sanctuary, my safe place, but it is no more. I’ll always believe in God, and I will always hold a deep faith near to my heart. But the bureaucracy of the Catholic church let me and many others down, I gave so much of my life to them, and they stole my innocence, my hope and my goodwill, then cruelly turned their backs on me when I needed them most. I now live with my church inside me, and I create sanctuaries for myself that are meaningful, safe, peaceful and prosperous (p. 310).

Margaret shared how she creates her own sanctuary and her church lives inside her rather than as an institution. Another way to cope with the scandal and deceit was for the women and their families to engage with the church on their own terms and only partially. Peg from Generation 1 described the discontent with the Catholic church as ‘disappointments’ and associated these ‘disappointments’ with why the next generations in her family have given the Catholic church away. Though, her daughter Fleur (Generation 2), like Loreto and Courtin (2013), spoke of the various positions that

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the congregation take up in the Catholic church. For instance, Peg’s grandchildren attended Catholic schools and members of the family worked in the Catholic education sector. Even though the family has given the church away to a degree, there was still a level of engagement with the church as a provider of education and employment. Peg and Fleur told their family’s story: Peg:

You’ve all given it away because there are so many disappointments in the church. Fleur: Given it away to a certain degree… we’ve all sent our children to Catholic schools, and we’re all working in Catholic schools. So, there’s an element of not giving it away, isn’t there, really? (Interview 2016). Some women in the study found a way to engage with the Catholic church on their own terms. Yet, for one Generation 2 participant, as an employee at a Catholic school, her employment presented challenges when an issue arose with the parish priest. The church community became alarmed at the hypocrisy and duplicity in church teachings being preached from the pulpit. Both the Generation 2 participant and her mother expressed their disappointment in the church. This disappointment was felt and heard in the tone of their voices and in their body language. The Generation 1 mother summed up the situation as ‘it’s difficult for you then [working at that school]’. Church employees find ways to negotiate their terms of employment with the church but can be placed in challenging positions.

Hindsight: Looking at an Old Situation from a New Angle The media in Australia and internationally played a key role in exposing the institutional nature of the abuse. Kathleen McPhillips, a feminist academic who has conducted research into the topic, wrote a review in February 2016 about the critically acclaimed film Spotlight that was based on the story of journalists uncovering the child abuse and cover-ups in Boston over decades. Kathleen saw the film at her local cinema in Newcastle, a large regional city of Australia and writing about the film says, It’s based on the true stories of too many people, in too many countries, including my home town of Newcastle, north of Sydney, Australia. Audrey (Generation 1), alluded to the fact that the media have been the source of exposure. Audrey spoke of her husband’s suspicions about what was going on at two Catholic Boys’ secondary colleges that parents from her community sent their sons to. Audrey reflected with her daughter Andrea (Generation 2) on ‘how we can be clever in hindsight’: Audrey: I mean the Royal Commission is a good thing because actually the church will benefit from it. It will be interesting, there’s so many hurdles but sometimes when things come out in the open no matter how bad they are, it’s better than being hidden.

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Andrea: Well I think also the people who will benefit will be the kids of tomorrow because abuse will no longer - the Catholic church can’t hide it, it will be an offence not to report it. It’s all those kids down the track who would have been susceptible. Audrey: It’s interesting even my husband came out with a few things in his day that made him very suspicious at some schools… Andrea: Hindsight. Audrey: We can all be clever in hindsight (Interview 2016). Rich (1979) explores this idea of hindsight and how we as women can look at an old situation from a new critical angle and writes about the act of looking back: Re-vision – the act of looking back, of seeing with fresh eyes, of entering an old text from a new critical direction – is for woman more than a chapter in cultural history: it is an act of survival. Until we understand the assumptions in which we are drenched we cannot know ourselves. And this drive to self-knowledge, for women, is more than a search for identity: it is part of our refusal of the self-destructiveness of male-dominated society (p. 35).

Audrey declared that we now know the realities associated with the abusive practices of the male clergy, but it is not through ‘hiding things’ that the church and its community will be able to move forward: We now know the truths of everything. We were very suspicious, but we didn’t know the facts, now it’s factual… it’s good because that’s the only way you move on …not by hiding things and making things sound much better than they are… (Interview 2016).

St. James church, Gardenvale was the gathering place of a number of families who participated in this study. Audrey respected and held in esteem the clergy at St. James, her local parish church but she now speaks of her suspicions. I thought we all put St James on a pedestal and then when I realized that things weren’t as I would like them to be. The people I knew and particularly the clergy involved I respected but they all must have known. Yes, they must have. But out of it all I think it will be a cleansing and there’ll be some very hard times in the very near future (Interview 2016).

There was a prestige associated with this parish and the outwardly magnificent 123-year-old church building that symbolised the grandeur and dignity of the Catholic church. In March 2015, St. James was destroyed by a fire lit by arsonists. The church at the time of production of this book was undergoing reconstruction (see Image 10.1). Peg (Generation 1) remarked when she asked if she had any disappointments with the Catholic church, ‘I suppose the paedophilia in the church– in our parish [St James] it was rife, wasn’t it? That was a disappointment’ (Interview 2016). Rachel Griffiths (an actor and former parishioner of St. James and alumni of Star of the Sea college) offers her perspective on this well-established parish and its church. After the fire at the church, she commented to a local Melbourne, Australian radio station. I think it’s always been a difficult building for us to drive past, because there’s so much tragedy and complicated feelings… We’ve all attended funerals of boys that we now know were abused by [Father] Pickering…I think it’s always been a difficult building for us to drive past, because there’s so much tragedy and complicated feelings. We’ve all avoided being married

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Image 10.1 St. James church under reconstruction, March 2019 there and found other churches, and it’s kind of been a bit of a thorn to see it standing’. She described the smoking church scenario as ‘a relief’ (Mills, Hatch, & Preiss, 2015).

Trish (Generation 2) noted how members of the Catholic clergy believe that there is in an issue with how the church has responded to the sexual abuse scandal. A priest in her community acknowledged that the church is in a pariah state. Trish thought that … the Catholic church is still going through a pretty bad patch. I went to a great retreat day at my daughter’s school. There was a lot of Catholic secondary and primary teachers there, and it was run by a very inspiring priest. He was great, because he was just so honest, and saying look really the Catholic church has had a pretty bad PR of recent times, and rightly so. I think it’s still in a really bad patch. I don’t know how it’s going to come out of it… But the church is not really what people want to associate themselves with at the moment (Interview 2016).

Megan’s Law: ‘It’s All in the Past’? In spite of the Catholic church, as an institution, being ostracised for the child sexual abuse scandal and how it has responded to it, according to the 2016 Australian Census (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2018, April 5), the Catholic

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population was 22.6% of the total Australian population; a slight drop from 25.3% in 2011. There is also a significant Catholic education sector in Australia. Approximately, 20% of Australian students attend Catholic schools (ABS, 2018, February 2). Generation 3 did not engage to the same extent in the conversation about the sexual abuse scandal in the Catholic church and if they did, they did not generally speak of it with the same intensity as their forebears. It had not affected them directly. The women of Generation 3, who had attended Catholic educational institutions received a different style of religious education and upbringing from their mothers and grandmothers. Joanne, 22 years old at the time of the 2016 interviews, was educated in Catholic schools. She explained how when she attended Catholic secondary school, they were presented with ethical dilemmas based on Megan’s Law: Joanne: When I was there in Year 11, we had to figure out ethics and stuff like that which was actually really interesting given all the controversial topics today. I remember we did one on Megan’s Law. We had to do a lot of research and figure out how we felt about stuff like that. So, it was kind of a bit more of a modern take on religion, I guess. Anne: What sort of law was it? Joanne: Like the paedophile one, so like you have to register if there’s someone in the area. Yeah, that’s all I really remember of it (Interview 2016) Megan’s Law reflected a significant shift in American Criminal Law although similar laws have been instigated in other Western nations. Teichman (2005) outlines these laws: These laws create a system that disseminates information to the public about convicted sex offenders such as their names and home addresses. Originally these laws were enacted to assist the public in protecting itself from the threat of repeat sex offenders. (p. 357). He states that: In general, these laws require convicted sex offenders who are released into the community to register as offenders and provide for some level of public notifications as to the presence of a sex offender in a community (p. 378). Salvemini (2008) claims that, ‘The rationale behind Megan’s Law is to “protect… children from the acts of sex offenders” because offenders, especially those who commit “predatory acts against children” are likely to recidivate’ (p. 1032). Halstead (2014) suggests that what differentiates faith schools is that their aims and curriculum and the role modelling by their teachers intertwine to provide a relatively common framework which is connected directly or indirectly to the faith of the school. In this case, secondary school students were involved in discussing ethical dilemmas. Felicity, one of the older representatives of Generation 3 at the age of 30, had more to say about the child sexual abuse scandal as a teacher, a daughter and a concerned citizen. She spoke of the divide between generations in terms of their

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commitment to the dominant religious denominations. She believed that the sexual abuse scandal has ‘isolated people’, … I think if you spoke to any three generations of Catholic women anywhere in Melbourne, there would be a divide between the generations. Socially people are not identifying with the major religions perhaps as much as they were, especially in the developed world, particularly after all the sexual abuse scandals in the Catholic church. That’s isolated people more as well (Interview 2016).

The Royal Commission will make institutions, including religious institutions, safer places for young people, but the incongruity is that according to Felicity, children and young people are not ‘identifying’ with major religions and in particular, are isolating themselves from the Catholic church.

Conclusion The issue of child sexual abuse in the Catholic church is a vexed and provocative issue. The current sexual abuse case associated with Cardinal George Pell that is being battled in the Victorian court system is intense and emotive. There were suspicions held by members of the older generation of women in this study about the child sexual abuse that was occurring in their local parishes, but they felt powerless to speak out about what they suspected was being instigated by highly respected members of the community. Possibly, there is hope as the secrets are exposed, the lies are uncovered, and the silence becomes an act of speech and performance. Rich’s (1979) words bookend and echo the sentiment of this chapter ‘the children of mothers who are able to take their lives in hand and confront the institutions that oppress them are our best hope for a future in which human existence will no longer be ruled by hypocrisy and force’ (p. 222). Mary MacKillop, whether in a literal or symbolic sense, represents these thoughts.

References ABC News. (2010, October 7). MacKillop banished after uncovering sex abuse. Retrieved July 5, 2018 from http://www.abc.net.au/news/2010-09-25/mackillop-banished-after-uncovering-sexabuse/2273940. ABS (Australian Bureau of Statistics). (2018, February 2). http://www.abs.gov.au/ausstats/abs@. nsf/cat/4221.0. Australian Bureau of Statistics. (2018, April 5). Australian Census 2016. Retrieved from http:// www.abs.gov.au/AUSSTATS/[email protected]/mediareleasesbyReleaseDate/ 7E65A144540551D7CA258148000E2B85. Courtin, J. (2013, June 20). What place for the Catholic church in 21st century Australia? The Conversation. http://theconversation.com/what-place-for-the-catholic-church-in-21st-centuryaustralia-15242.

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Crisp, B. R. (2012). The spiritual implications of sexual abuse: Not just an issue for religious women? Feminist Theology, 20(2), 133–145. Halstead, J. M. (2014). Values and values education: Challenges to faith schools. In J. D. Chapman, S. McNamara, M. Reiss, & Y. Waghid (Eds.), International handbook of learning, teaching and leading in faith-based schools (pp. 65–81). Dordrecht: Springer. Irigaray, L. (2008). Conversations. London & New York: Continuum. McCreanor, S. (2001). Sainthood in Australia: Mary MacKillop and the print media. North Sydney, NSW: Sisters of Saint Joseph of the Sacred Heart. McPhillips, K. (2016a, January 18). The name of god is Mercy: Pope Francis is trying to reset church’s moral agenda. The Conversation. https://theconversation.com/the-name-of-god-ismercy-pope-francis-is-trying-to-reset-churchs-moral-agenda-53108. McPhillips, K. (2016b, February 2). Review: Spotlight’s revealing story of child abuse in my home town—And maybe yours. The Conversation http://theconversation.com/reviewspotlights-revealing-story-of-child-abuse-in-my-home-town-and-maybe-yours-53955. Mills, T., Hatch, P., & Preiss, B. (2015, March 30). Fire at St James church in Brighton a relief, says actor Rachel Griffiths. The Age. http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/fire-at-st-jameschurch-in-brighton-a-relief-says-actor-rachel-griffiths-20150330-1mawmo.html. Middleton, W., Stavropoulos, P., Dorahy, M. J., Krüger, C., Lewis-Fernández, R., Martínez-Taboas, A., et al. (2014). The Australian Royal Commission into institutional responses to sexual abuse. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, 48(1), 17–21. Pearson, M. (2018, March 21). Why the public isn’t allowed to know specifics about the George Pell case. The Conversation. https://theconversation.com/why-the-public-isnt-allowed-toknow-specifics-about-the-george-pell-case-93651. Rafferty, A. (2015). Women Eucharist and politics. Feminist theology, 23(3), 304–315. Rich, A. (1979). On lies, secrets, and silence: Selected prose 1966–1978 (1st ed.). New York: WW Norton & Company. Rich, A. (1976). Of woman born: Motherhood as experience and institution. London: Virago Press. Royal Commission into the Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse https://www. childabuseroyalcommission.gov.au/. Salvemini, K. A. (2008). Sex-offender parents: Megan’s law and schools’ legal options in protecting students within their walls. Widener Law Journal, 17(3), 1031–1066. Smethurst, S., & Harrod, M. (2019). Blood on the rosary. London & New York: Simon & Schuster. Teichman, D. (2005). Sex, shame, and the law: An economic perspective on Megan’s laws. Harvard Journal on Legislation, 42, 35.

Chapter 11

Stories that Memorabilia Tell in Mother–Daughter Exchanges Anne Keary and Julie Faulkner

Abstract This chapter focuses on memorabilia that pass among mothers and daughters. Luce Irigaray, a French psychoanalyst, suggests that small handmade objects be interposed between mothers and daughters to create a personal spatial identity. This elusive feminine space was uncovered in this study when women and girls were asked about objects and material items that had been handed down to them through the maternal line. Anne, the co-author, has a wooden carving from Oberammergau, Germany of St. Anne and her daughter Mary that had passed through her maternal line. It is a symbol, a sign of her female forebears creating a spiritual and material space for the mother–daughter relationship. By foregrounding stories about memorabilia, it is suggested that the multiple dimensions of women’s lives come into view. Such stories affirm female subjectivity within the boundaries of social, cultural, familial and religious discourses. In this study, these objects served as mnemonic devices for generating and provoking mother–daughter stories. This chapter unpacks some of the meanings given to these memorabilia.

Introduction This chapter was largely written in Haifa, Israel and Rome, Italy, where we were working for university purposes. The unfamiliarity of foreign places took us out of the Australian context and opened up the possibilities of our thinking. Moreover, the notion of women and their travels is an idea that emerges in other chapters, and in Sue’s letter discussed below, as she was living in India at the time she received it. We were also prompted to consider, while in Israel, the idea of the importance of the maternal line in Jewish religion, Israel being the Holy Land and Rome being the centre of the Catholic Church. Last June, Anne searched for a representation of the mother–daughter relationship in the form of St. Anne and Mary in Tallinn, Estonia and Lucca and Florence in Italy, but to no avail. Nor could she find it in Australia. However, while on a

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weekend trip with her niece Christina who was visiting her in Israel, she came upon it in a small shop in the Christian quarter of the old city in Jerusalem. The old woman who sold her the wooden plaque of the Byzantine image of St. Anne and Mary had an Italian mother and a Lebanese father. Anne then told Christina the story of the wooden statue (see Image 11.1) that her Aunty Inez brought back from Germany and gave to her grandmother, then it went to her mother and then on to Anne. Inez died at the age of 33, the same age as Melissa, Christina’s sister. This prompted Christina to tell Anne the story about the week after Melissa’s death, when her mother and she sat in the apartment in Italy and sorted through Melissa’s things. Melissa had listed to whom they all were to go—letters back to the people who had written them, her collection of elephants to friends, gold earrings to a friend she went to school with in India. These poignant memories and life connections serve as affective starting points to a chapter that will unpack some of the meanings given to these artefacts, artefacts signifying a maternal history.

Image 11.1 St. Anne and Mary statue passed down through the maternal line

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Background—What Is Culture? There exists a long tradition of exploring engagement and meaning in everyday objects within anthropology, sociology and more recently, in cultural studies. This study, an exploration of the meaning of things handed down within the matrilineal lineage (mothers to daughter, aunts to nieces and so on), is situated within a particular context of cultural relations. Within this context of values, beliefs and practices, objects are legitimated and valued. Moreover, the objects become prized through various processes, processes that may include consensus, articulation of connections, and the refining of significance as giver and receiver emphasise positive factors and explain away negative ones. These practices beg a clearer understanding of what ‘culture’ comprises. If the concept can be broadly thought of as a kind of grammar of meanings, Raymond Williams contributed to what it meant to think culturally through his conceptualisation of it as ‘a structure of feeling’ (1977). Williams’ defines a ‘structure of feeling’ thus: The term is difficult, but “feeling” is chosen to emphasize a distinction from more formal concepts of “world view” or “ideology”. It is not only that we must go beyond formally held and systematic beliefs, though of course we have always to include them. It is that we are concerned with meanings and values as they are actively lived and felt, and the relations between these and formal or systematic beliefs are in practice variable … An alternative definition would be structures of experience (1977, p. 132).

We are acting in the manner of cultural historians through placing memorabilia and conversations about memorabilia and relationships alongside, and against, each other. We, as researchers, provide particular ways of reading and interpreting social aspects of the everyday. These articulations attempt to illuminate material and symbolic representations of the mother–daughter relationship as it is constituted by, and within, social and cultural frameworks and institutions.

Culture and Text: A Cultural Studies Approach With Hoggart (1957), Williams and Williams (1977) not only challenged simple definitions of ‘culture’, but also suggested how individuals create identities and lives through cultural resources. ‘Culture’ was now being constituted from the ground up, in the sense that it comprised any expressive activity contributing to social learning (Aggar, 1992). Drawing from Williams, the members of the Birmingham Centre of Contemporary Cultural Studies in the 1960s argued that Culture is a distinctive way of life embodied in beliefs and customs, social relations, institutions and material objects. All these aspects of the sub-culture were referred to as ‘maps of meaning’, which shape the sub-culture and make it intelligible to its members. (Valentine, Skelton, & Chambers, 1998, p. 13)

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These ‘maps of meaning’ further indicated a broad process of circulation and use, within which meanings and tastes are socially established and circulated. This chapter aims to identify and draw such maps of meaning around specific objects of value to particular mothers and daughters.

The Study of Objects and Identity As early as the 1965, Georges Perec published Les Choses: Une histoire des années soixante. In 1981, Csikszentmahalyi and Rochberg-Halton described their significant 1977 study, The meaning of things: Domestic symbols and the self. This study asked 82 Chicago families to identify and discuss meaningful objects in their home —what meanings the identified thing held for them, what life would be without it, where it was placed by the owner and so on. Csikszentmahalyi and Rochberg-Halton built on the idea, relatively new at the time but now broadly circulated, that we both constitute and are constituted by our relationship with things we value, actively shaping the self through the process. Like Williams (although he doesn’t use the word), Csikszentmahalyi and Rochberg-Halton refer to a dialectic between the processes of differentiation and integration or using objects to express individuality or sameness. It is a negotiation of this interaction that personal traits emerge. Texts, rituals and institutions formed signifying practices, and were interrelated as ‘a whole way of life’ (Williams, 2003, p. 57). Willis (1990) further linked cultural resources to the creation and sustaining of identity, arguing that most people’s lives are ‘full of expressions, signs and symbols through which individuals and groups seek to creatively establish their presence, identity and meaning’ (pp. 1–2). In a contemporary world, however, a text is a synergy between multiple codes and perspectives rather than an object or a thing. If a text is not inherently anything, then the meaning and value we ascribe to a text is ‘a function of our relationships with others, relationships which are in turn determined by the social and institutional settings in which we live and work’ (Bennett, paraphrased by Doecke & Hayes, 1999, p. 39). Drawing on a cultural studies perspective, this chapter will explore the ‘elusive feminine space’ offered in the passing on of mother–daughter memorabilia. From an understanding of the engagement with such forms of expression, we explore meanings created through the exchanges, contextualised in space and time. Through positioning the artefact and process of giving in wider articulations of family, religion, cultural and social relationships, we search for insight into the significance of the everyday. These vernacular literacies emerge from the ways objects are inscribed by both the giver and receiver, rich with ‘memories, emotions, connections and stories [which] convey and express aspects of personal and cultural identity’ (Duggan & Gandolfo, 2011, p. 316).

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The notion of cultural identities adopted in this chapter is fluid and multiple, as argued by Stuart Hall: …belong[ing] to a future as much as a past/It is not something which already exists, transcending place, time, history and culture. Cultural identities come from somewhere, have histories. But like everything which is historical, they undergo constant transformation … they are subject to the continuous ‘play’ of history, culture and power. (1990, p. 393)

Given such understandings of cultural identities and narratives, this chapter draws on previous rich studies and their conceptual frameworks. We borrow from Csikszentmahalyi and Rochberg-Halton’s (1981) attribution of value to objects: …we concluded that the potential significance of things is realized in a process of actively cultivating a world of meanings which both reflect and help create […] goals of one’s existence. (p. xi)

Extending cultural studies’ understandings of things as connecting to the ‘vital web of relationships’ (Csikszentmahalyi & Rochberg-Halton, 1981, p. 197), we explore the interactive space between the object and a particular relationship, the Catholic mother and daughter. This religious dimension provides possible access to the cosmic or ‘moving principles of nature’ (Csikszentmahalyi & Rochberg-Halton, 1981, p. 193). This chapter further investigates how religious artefacts might link to the personal, social self as well as represent integration of one’s purpose with a wider pattern of purpose. Here, women unwittingly create Irigaray’s elusive space—the purpose being to foreground and make time for the mother–daughter relationship in practical and symbolic ways.

The Mother–Daughter Relationship Irigaray (1993) asserts that for a woman to disrupt the patriarchal order that is embedded in Catholic discourse, she needs to find representations and images that endorse and foreground her genealogy. In order to do this, Irigaray suggests that women create spaces that are material as well as symbolic among mothers and daughters. The creation of these spaces can encompass the passing of memorabilia and dialogic exchanges between women. Irigaray writes: In concrete terms, that means that the mother-woman should speak to the daughter-woman … talk about things that concern the two of them, talk about herself and ask her daughter to do the same, bring up her genealogy, especially the relation to her own mother … (p. 50).

This chapter partly uncovers these somewhat hidden genealogical representations and images by scrutinising memorabilia passed among grandmothers, mothers and grand/daughters. The situated, subjective stories that women narrate about these memorabilia provide partial and context-specific accounts of their lives and relationships. We wish to remind ourselves that these accounts are part of a journey of discovery that is not complete.

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Irigaray’s (1993) work is cultivated in this chapter by reading, interpreting and writing about memorabilia. She calls for the creation of spaces that sit inside yet outside patriarchal discourses, that can extract and unsheathe less visible images of the mother–daughter relationship. Irigaray’s theories provide a means to interrogate the positioning of a Catholic woman socio-historically and culturally so a material, as well as symbolic space, can be created for a range of less visible representations of womanhood. In our exploration of artefacts handed down, we frame the maps of meaning through a series of questions. We ask in what ways do the objects that Catholic mothers bequeath to their daughters and daughters to grand/mothers reflect (shifting) cultural feminine identities? More particularly, how does the past infuse the present through the valuing of these artefacts? How does their presence speak to, and (re)shape, family histories and identities? What kinds of intimate (feminine/ maternal) connections are forged through the passing on of such possessions?

Framing Analysis Bartlett and Henderson (2016) identify five categories of feminist objects that emerge from the historical everyday of Australian women within patriarchal culture, or Catholic theology for the purpose of this chapter. These categories, useful for our analysis here, include corporeal things, world-making things, knowledge and communicative things, and protest things. ‘While an object could belong to more than one major class, it will have a primary association that nominally determines its membership …’ (p. 162). In addition, as Bartlett and Henderson point out: …Our feminist system is strongly horizontal in orientation, whether this is in terms of the arrangement of objects within these four major categories or the arrangement of objects within these categories… We find … a diversity rather than a continual differentiation of feminist objects (p. 166).

The ‘intracategory dynamic and its flat structure’ (Bartlett & Henderson, 2016) reference two components of the mother–daughter relationship. Foremost, objects passed among mothers and daughters, in this analysis are discernibly politicised and not framed as purely personal. We acknowledge that there is not an exhaustive set of objects that can be categorised, and that Bartlett and Henderson’s categorisation system is not fixed and finite. In adapting Bartlett and Henderson’s model, we have thus added a further category, the spiritual. Second, the objects to come under analysis depict the ‘collectivisation of identity rather than an individualisation of identity’ (166). Mothers and daughters make and use objects as a system of language to participate in a collective conversation and therefore a collective identity. A consideration is the method of production of the things in terms of their diversity. Katelyn (Generation 3) commented, ‘I think [it’s important], just because it’s handmade, that’s probably the main thing for me’. Bartlett and Henderson

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(2016) point out that in their study, ‘a number of these (things) were produced by typically feminine skills, signifying where women were then located, as well as the more nontraditional skills marking the future for liberated women’ (p. 167). In relation to this chapter, we reinterpret this feminine form of production and repurpose its existence so that these feminine things, as part of an exchange among women, to create Irigaray’s (1993) elusive feminine space. Bartlett and Henderson’s protest category is represented by the feminist approach which underpins this chapter and the analysis of the memorabilia. The objects handed down from mothers to daughters fell into the corporeal, world-making, knowledge and communicative aspects of Bartlett and Henderson’s (2016) classification. The memorabilia, as they are interpreted and understood, provide a rich source for transformative thinking about mother–daughter exchanges. This transformative thinking is bound up with the notion of spiritual memorabilia which builds on the five categories Bartlett and Henderson identify. Spiritual memorabilia, as it is passed among mothers and daughters, foregrounds an elusive feminine and, it is suggested feminist space, which sits within, yet outside, the confines of Catholicism.

Spiritual Memorabilia By working a feminine image back into dialogue about memorabilia passed among women, a visceral feeling is created that is invisible while at the same time visible. The memorabilia and the feminist analytic text unsettles the performance and narrative so that it is not just a mother–daughter story being told. Rather the women are part of the construction of the story. We begin this analysis of memorabilia by building on Bartlett and Henderson’s (2016) categories with our own category, ‘spiritual memorabilia’. The Bible tells the story of the Old and New Testament. For Catholic schoolgirls, the patriarchal voice of Catholicism is foregrounded which can result in the forgetting and/or side-lining of female ancestry. Through the mother–daughter stories of memorabilia, another history of Catholic upbringings is told, a different history, a feminine history passed on from mother to daughter. Modjeska (1990) writes that: History does not move in straight lines, it is fractured and uneven and runs off at tangents. The temptation is to talk as if the chronology went somewhere, and changes have clear derivations and destinations (p. 90).

The stories of spiritual memorabilia told in this section run off on tangents and the chronology becomes fragmented. Looking in different places and spaces and from different perspectives, other stories of Catholic histories are told that provide mothers and daughters with spaces to articulate their own feminine stories.

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Location: St Finbar’s

Ronnie: I was looking at a photo last night of us after our first holy communion. We were out on the steps at the front of St. Finbar’s and your little veil was falling off. I remember that time, us dressing up in white and having a special dress and new shoes. I remember I had white patent leather shoes and it was a really big deal. And here we’re back here todayAnne: Were they white or black? Ronnie: They were white shoes, and I remember we bought them in Martin Street, and it was a really big deal. Anne: So, it’s the whole performative aspect of Catholicism as well… I came across some things this morning including the veil from the ‘first holy communion’ I found it wrapped in tissue paper in a box in the cupboard… Ronnie: And I just spoke about it. How weird. [Ronnie looks at it] It’s so little Anne: Do you remember these? Ronnie: Oh, mantillas, we used to wear these to Mass. Anne: Remember when we didn’t have to wear hats anymore? And the mantilla replaced the hat. Ronnie: Yes, it was a progression. Puri and Thomson (2017) when reporting on an Oral History Project comment that ‘When asked about faith, many Australian Generations interviewees described how their beliefs morphed across their lives’ (p. 95). For some of the women in this study, a transformation in faith took the form of a questioning of family and religious practices of the past. Religious memorabilia triggered stories about the reshaping their belief systems. Trish came into contact with the rosary as a young child as it was part of the routine of her mother’s daily routine. Trish told the story of the rosary from Connemara (see Image 11.2) in Ireland, which she bought for her mum when she travelled to Ireland in the 1980s when she was in her early 20s: Instead of having the full round Rosary beads with five decades of the Rosary - it’s just got one decade of the Rosary in these beautiful chunky Connemara rocks and there it’s got a ring. So, what you do is you move the ring from one finger to the next, for the five decades. I just thought that was a beautiful present mum would like, which she did. So yes, that was just something that I brought here after she died.

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Image 11.2 Connemara rosary beads

Despite the strong emotional resonance of the rosary, Trish told her daughter Rosie about the significance of the gift: When you’re travelling you’ve got your eye out for a little present that people at home might like and I’d never seen anything like that, and I don’t think she had either. Rosie: Did she like it, or did she not like it because it wasn’t traditional? Trish: Oh no, she liked it. She was probably the only lady at St. Finbar’s with a rosary like that. Anne: So, did you ever say the Rosary with her using those beads? Trish: Oh, I’m sure we would have. She would have done that to show me that she liked the present, for sure…

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Location: St Finbar’s church

Anne:

Now I’ve got something else. These remind me of my mother’s funeral. We had a rosary the night before her funeral. Because I’m one of seven, there was a last-minute rush to find enough rosary beads for everyone. So, we have all sorts of rosary beads. Some are togetherRonnie: some are broken… Anne: some have been blessed with holy water from Lourdes. Ronnie (looking at the rosary beads) right, look at this. I had some like this, these ones here, and I mean these rituals were just so integral to our lives.

Sumrall and Vecchione (1992) in their anthology of stories about ‘Catholic girls’ tell stories, like the stories of these women, that take the reader into the church through the eyes of women. The women in this anthology recount with humour alongside pain the ritualised events which shaped their Catholic girlhoods. Brady, in this anthology writes about the rosary which ‘is a circle, never finished. You can always say another one’ (p. 125). These activities, like the memorabilia stories are contextualised against the background of girlhood family life and concepts of faith. Anne, the co-author, remembers one of these activities. The local church would on occasions had missions. As part of these missions, a statue of Our Lady (see Image 11.3) would circulate around the neighbourhood and Catholic families would take it in turns to host the statue in their homes. Every evening Catholic families from the parish would visit the host home and join the host family to recite a decade of the rosary. In 1995 mother–daughter exchange, Marie (Generation 2) and her mother Agatha (Generation 1) told the story of the statue: Marie - I remember those statues arriving on a very regular basis, sitting there on that table. We used to kneel down in front of that statue, and I remember that snake coming out of Mary’s foot. Agatha - That’s it (laughs) - Mary’s foot. Marie - The whole street used to come to our home. We used to pray to the statue, which didn’t seem all that bizarre at the time, but now it sounds incredibly bizarre. They wouldn’t do that now, would they, the statue? Agatha - The statue was a way and means of the continuous rosary being said in the home.

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Image 11.3 The statue of Mary stepping on the snake

Marie commented how the recollection of something ‘normal’, the mission and the neighbourhood rosary gatherings around the guest statue of Mary with the snake now seems, from a distance, at once both convivial and peculiar. The origins of these representations of Mary depict her, in fact, stepping on the snake which has an apple in its mouth. The links back to the Garden of Eden story in Genesis 3:15 are ambiguous, as there is some dispute, common to various biblical texts, over the gender assignation of the Hebrew translation. It is not clear that it is ‘he’ (Jesus) or ‘she’, Mary, who ‘…will crush your head and you will strike his (her) heel’. Nevertheless, the proliferation of statues depicting Mary destroying the snake affirms yet again the place and presence of the Virgin in Catholic iconography. In Marie’s childhood recollections, the snake is ingenuously reconstructed as ‘coming out of Mary’s foot’, as well as being the cause of neighbours crowding family space.

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Corporeal Things Bartlett and Henderson’s (2016) first category (our second) is corporeal things. Corporeal things, they contend, encapsulate the exterior and interior of the body; for instance, clothing and intimate things. This category highlights the feminist movement’s novel focus on the body as intrinsic to a feminist politics, the necessity of remaking the self, and particularly the body as a woman’s jurisdiction … (p. 163). The meaning behind the corporeal things is implied not explicit. These objects revive emotional memories of people and times gone by as well as actions in the present. Anne, the co-author, remembered this in reference to her mother who modelled to her ways of dressing up the body: One of the weekly public performances that I can remember my mother dressing up for was Sunday Mass. Not only did my mother dress me up in my best dress for Sunday Mass but I can also recall my mother’s ritual for dressing up for Sunday Mass. Part of this ritual was her beauty routine (Lim 1996). She moisturised her facial skin … powdered her face lightly and put on a reddish orange shade of lipstick. It was a routine which I often watched as a young daughter and it is part of the familiarity of the daily conditions which fashioned my feminine identity. I know so well the habitual ways of my mother’s beauty routine. This etched out maternal image of ‘dressing up’ triggers in me a strong sense of self. It is one of the compendiums of representations which have passed between this mother and daughter (Keary, 2011, p. 71).

Anne recollected that as a young woman; her mother on occasions bought her a bottle of moisturiser (see Image 11.4) as a gift. The moisturiser was made by the Carmelite nuns, who were located in Kew, near where Anne’s grandmother lived. Anne’s was being prepared for enacting a particular type of femininity while, at the same time, a space for a mother–daughter exchanged was created. In terms of handmade clothing, Katelyn’s (Generation 3) grandmother passes on ‘bits from her house’ in preparation for her own passing. Katelyn told the story: I think well – when we got married Grandma made us all garters, all the granddaughters so we have one of those which I would keep and pass down – depending on if I had a girl, I’d pass that down…

This handmade material object can be perceived as an intrinsic yet extrinsic focus on the body. It symbolises the remaking of the single woman as a married woman. The removal of the garter by the groom is the equivalent to the bride’s bouquet toss, whoever is lucky enough to catch the garter or bouquet will be next to get married. In Katelyn’s instance, the feminine side of the garter story is told; a story of an object passed from Grandma to granddaughter. This maternal story reduces the sexual objectification of women and perhaps as Bartlett and Henderson (2016) state: becomes ‘a method with which to make the body a key signifier of feminist identity…’ (p. 163).

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Image 11.4 Memories of corporeal things

World-Making Things Bartlett and Henderson describe their (2016) second category as ‘world making things’: The second category, world making things refers to items that bring into being a feminist world in creative and cultural terms, and contains groups based on the verbal, the visual, decorative, and the aural (p. 164).

Within this category, sit the Pat’s (Generation 1) jewellery box (see Image 11.5) which was passed onto her daughter Fiona, Trish’s (Generation 2) cake stand (see Image 11.6) that she inherited from her mother, Sally’s (Generation 2) family tea cups and coffee cups (see Image 11.7) and Patricia’s (Generation 1) collection of world-making things. Patricia in conversation with her niece Anne, the co-author, described her coffee cups, silver tea set, as well as a jug and crystal biscuit jar from her grandmother. Patricia - Well, that cupboard over there is full of things that have been passed on to me. That beautiful hand painted coffee set was given to my parents on a special occasion, it was their 25th wedding anniversary and it was hand painted by Good Shepherd nuns. Then

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Image 11.5 Pat’s family jewellery box

Image 11.6 Meg’s cake stand that was passed onto Trish

there’s the tea set, the silver tea set, and there’s a little jug up the top that came from my grandma’s side of the family. From my grandma, my mother’s mother… that crystal biscuit jar… and a few other things, cups and saucers and some glasses. There was a pearl necklace that my mother left me, it’s waiting to be repaired.

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Image 11.7 Sally’s tea cups and coffee cups in a cupboard acquired and stripped back and revarnished for the purpose of storing the cups

Cups and saucers, some glasses and a pearl necklace from Patricia’s mother further represent gendered practices, pragmatic as well as symbolic learning of female rituals, and inculcating female generations into ways of being. Rituals associated with birthdays and religious happenings such as ‘first holy communion’ brought world-making things out of cupboards and drawers. In 2018, Trish remembered her Catholic girlhood and recounted one of these occasions: Meg, my mother, was very much into birthdays. Every birthday in the family, we would first of all get up early and go to Mass at St. Finbar’s and there was no eating or anything before Mass. I think it must have been seven o’clock or something like that, when we went to mass. Then we’d come home and line up at the lounge room door, which would be closed, and the birthday person would be first in line. After that you’d line up in order of age, which was quite exciting when I was little. I’d always be first or second. Then you’d go in and, on the table, would be your presents and a beautiful sponge cake made by my mother on that crystal stand.

Trish spoke of her mother’s cake-making practice for birthdays that had passed down the generations along with the crystal plate. The cake stand, and the cake-making practice give us clues as to who Trish has become. The cake stand represents a relationship with another person, to a mother who has since the first phase of interviews, passed away. The stand is evidence that Meg shaped how her

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daughter would relate to her own daughter. Rosie, Trish’s daughter claimed the cake stand, and cake-making practice is ‘part of the family tradition’. She continued adamantly ‘I will be getting the cake stand’. Trish: So yes, we just always had one of Meg’s sponges on the crystal plate. I don’t make my kids have a sponge cake, but we do have quite a few. Now I ask them what cake they would like, and they will always say… Rosie: But pretty much every birthday you still bring out. Trish: It’s just, you know makes it look special. Rosie: It’s part of the family tradition, isn’t it? I will be getting the cake stand. Trish: Then we eat it with our silver cake forks and stir our tea with our silver spoons. Rosie: She has to have the cake forks, yes.

The cake stand is an expression of a grand/mother–daughter relationship that constructs memories of the past and will produce memories in the future. In its cared-for state, it reflects the love it has been attributed not just as an object but also for the family rituals that it is remembered for. The story of going to mass was the precursor for the cake-making practice. For Trish, this Catholic tradition became associated with the making of the cake. In the present and potentially into the future the cake-making rituals and the cake stand symbolise a feminine space occupied by mother and daughter. Irigaray (1993), as a practical suggestion for developing the mother–daughter relationship, advises that representations of the triangle: mother, father, daughter be passed between mothers and daughters. She writes, ‘The point of these representations is to give girls a valid representation of their genealogy; an essential condition for the constitution of their identity’ (p. 48). During the second phase mother–daughter interview, Pat’s jewellery box was remembered which now has been passed on to Fiona, her daughter. The jewellery box was given to Pat by her Scottish husband. Pat, Fiona and Oliva told the story of the jewellery box): Pat: My husband brought that back…He went back to (Scotland for) a girlfriend… Olivia: Came over (from Scotland), met Nan, went back to Scotland. Pat: He came back the second time and he brought me back the jewellery box… Fiona: So that was your gift on his return? And he came back to you and he never went back.

The story of the jewellery box (see Image 11.5) has become a story passed down from grandmother to mother to daughter. The jewellery box can be read as portraying multiple and contradictory images of the maternal and the feminine as they are located within a matrilineal lineage. The jewellery box symbolises the trilogy of father, mother and daughter but it also points to a feminine space, as the object has now been passed onto a daughter from her mother and the story of its origins passed on to a granddaughter.

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Knowledge and Communicative Things The third category in our understanding of the place of the lives of objects in mother–daughter relationships is Bartlett and Henderson’s (2016), ‘knowledge and communicative things’. While virtually all feminist objects can be described as communicating a feminist message or way of being in the world and as offering forms of feminist knowledge, the category of knowledge and communicative things is defined by objects, that, as their primary purpose have to produce, record, and distribute feminist thought and knowledge (p. 165).

This category is deeply verbal, entails formal and informal registers and provides examples of intense exchanges between mothers and daughters. It is about how this relationship is imagined and narrated, the communication of knowledge and information and reveals ways of thinking and knowing the everyday. This category constructs a space for a feminist politics that brings to the fore powerful, yet at times routine exchanges among mothers and daughters. Bartlett and Henderson (2016) describe this category as ‘ideational, documentary, interpellating, and legitimating’ (p. 165). It touches on the enduring and lasting nature of the mother–daughter relationship through communicative things, even post death. The following letter draws on these notions in everyday ways through a letter written by a mother (Mona) to her daughter, Sue (Generation 2). Mona’s (Generation 1) letter gives insights into a deeper understanding of letters in a mother–daughter correspondence discussed here. Sue (Generation 2) over 30 years later shared a letter (see Image 11.8) her mother wrote to her in 1985. Her mother Mona died in 2005, 3 weeks after Anne’s, the co-author’s mother, died. Sue elaborated on the continuity and significance of Mona’s presence within her own and her daughters’ lives: Well so many things (have changed in the last twenty years), chief among them is that mum is not here anymore, though she is for me very much a present. I often forget that she’s not here, I go to tell her things. She would often say to me as a wayward adolescent, ‘I hope I live long enough to see your children behave to you as you behave to me’. And of course, she got her wish in spades. My girls were so close to mum, and they loved her so much and she was very much their advocate, and if things weren’t going so well it was always me who got the advice on dealing differently with them. So, I think she’s been a very strong and a very positive influence in their lives, even though almost half their lives she’s not been here (Email exchange, 2018).

Sue, when asked to discuss something to share of her mother’s, produced a 1985 letter written on the Adelaide Parkroyal [stationery], which she mentioned, because she thinks I would think it was odd that she was writing on paper that wasn’t hers. The letter afforded an opportunity to express herself in ways that Sue did not normally expect from her mother, as she read: “My Dear Sue”. Again, a different introduction. Mum wasn’t overtly affectionate to her children, much more so to her grandchildren, so calling me ‘My Dear’ was a surprise.

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Image 11.8 Mona’s letter

I must say how sorry I am that I haven’t written for so long, but honestly Sue there have been times I just can’t sit down and write, because things are pretty much the same here.

This sense of the quotidian at home is reinforced later through reference to the traffic: The trip from Madras with its hiccups on the way must have been a nightmare Sue, I think I would have had a fit. Our traffic here sounds quite uninteresting.

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Mona, in her letter, continued to describe her efforts to look after Sue’s older sister who was unwell. Mona also played a role in caring for her unwell daughter’s children: … we go out to buy them clothes, but both [the children] have their own ideas, and most of the things have to be changed, which is so sad because it is such a big thing and such a big effort to do these things. Even so it’s all therapy and helps her to feel she is keeping in touch with her finger on things.

As Sue read her mother’s letter, she interpellated another layer of meaning for Anne as a friend and interviewer. Mona noted that her unwell daughter is not able to cope with the family or stress … Even so it’s all therapy and helps her to feel she is keeping in touch with her finger on things. Sue commented ‘Very typical mum that she saw the good side’. Sue also observed what is not said by Mona, creating an empathy in relation to unrecognised selflessness: And little things like the kids not liking their clothes, that would really hurt mum because she would know what that meant, but she would never say anything.

The maternal and feminine are emphasised within the every day as Mona continued to enquire about Sue’s daughters, Felicity and Jane: I was wondering if little Felicity’s dress fitted. [Sue]. So, it must be the end of October because it was Felicity’s birthday that she got this very beautiful dress. So, I think our letters must have crossed. It would be nice and cool being cotton. Jane, I received your lovely letter. I can’t believe you don’t go to the big toilet yet. I’m sure by the time you come back to Tralia… that’s what Miss Janey called it…

Threaded throughout the daily details is Mona’s desire to have her daughter, Sue, home: Sue we’re all looking forward to your return. I guess by now you are starting to think of packing up again. The little girls sound lovely. They won’t know us when they come back. It just seems ages since we have seen you all … if you have problems when you return about accommodation, don’t hesitate to make 12 [our home] your headquarters. You will probably wonder at the address… And then she talked about a drive that she and dad were going to take over to Adelaide while her unwell eldest daughter tried a little bit of time at home.

Mona is constructed here as the forbearing post-war mother, more formal with her own children but warmly affectionate with her grandchildren. Her stoicism and generosity are admired by Sue and identified as the reasons she selected this letter as her mother–daughter artefact. Sue acknowledged what it is her mother has modestly chosen to offer to one daughter and confide in with another: So, I’m glad she shared that with me. She sounds tired you know, that it’s all been quite a big thing … It was yeah, a wonderful gift that she gave [my sister].

The letter, on the surface an everyday set of observations, revealed to Sue on further reading (and perhaps even more so in retrospect) an intimate relational subtext. The act of rendering the subtext explicit enabled Sue to name the affective

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ties, binding daughter to mother in deeply emotional ways—Irigaray’s ‘elusive feminine space’. Sue ended her recollection with a moving observation: The day she (my mother) died all the kids were in the room telling Nana Mona stories, and everyone had such a lovely memory of her. The weird thing was everyone was telling stories about her as if they were the only grandchild who mattered. And that’s the affect she had on them. It’s just lovely (Interview 2015).

Conclusion Mother–daughter exchanges can be passed over and form the backdrop for other events in women’s lives. The memorabilia represent an entry into a matrilineal past, and the women’s voice gives them meaning and guide their interpretation. The memorabilia tell of relationships to the family, church and history. It also provided a means to reclaim a space for the mother–daughter relationship. The entrance of the father into the narrative through the story of the jewellery box points towards the beginning of another generation, another chapter in a woman’s life. The feminist project of reclaiming this feminine territory is not over as Katelyn, Rosie and Olivia of Generation 3 continue to tell the stories of the wedding garter, the cake stand and jewellery box, their associated rituals and uses. This chapter uncovers a system of mother–daughter exchanges via objects and acknowledges; things that support the construction of this relationship. In Bartlett and Henderson’s (2016) terms, they comment on individual lives but which together, speak to a larger set of collective ideas: Our system of feminist objects and its collective biography locates the activist object in a larger frame and outlines a collective and political story; the scale and shape of a feminist way of being; the circuits of production, use, and exchange; the stylists that underlies a women’s movement culture; and the way in which feminist objects speak not of distinction or prestige but of potential hope… (pp. 170–71).

The identification of certain objects passed among the mothers and daughters might thus add another layer to how, in a materialistic and consumer-dominated society, things can still carry strong meaning and open up a space for women and the maternal.

Postscript As part of Anne’s journey to Rome, she returned to Australia with some remaining material belongings of her niece Melissa who, like Inez her great-aunt, died at the age of 33. Melissa will be recollected through these cultural artefacts, memorabilia,

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photos and letters. Her niece Mia (Claire’s daughter) will come to know Melissa through these artefacts as Anne came to know more about Inez, through the wooden statue of St. Anne and Mary. Acknowledgements Photos are reprinted with the permission of the author, Anne Keary.

References Aggar, B. (1992). Cultural studies as critical theory. London: The Falmer Press. Barlett, A., & Henderson, M. (2016). What is a feminist object? Feminist material culture and the making of the activist object. Journal of Australian Studies, 40(2), 156–171. Csikszentmahalyi, M., & Rochberg-Halton, E. (1981). The meaning of things: Domestic symbols and the self. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Doecke, B., & Hayes, T. (1999). Good dreams/bad dreams: Text selection and censorship in Australia. Paper presented at the Biennial conference of the International Federation for the Teaching of English, Warwick Englan. Found at: http://www.nyu.edu/education/teachlearn/ ifte/doecke2.htm. Duggan, J.-A., & Gandolfo, E. (2011). Other spaces: Migration, objects and archives. Modern Italy, 16(3), 315–328. Hall, S. (1990). Cultural identity and diaspora. In J. Rutherford (Ed.), Identity: Community, culture, difference (pp. 223–237). London: Lawrence & Wishart. Hoggart, R. (1957). The uses of literacy: Aspects of working-class life with special reference to publications and entertainment. Hammondsworth: Penguin Books. Irigaray, L. (1993). Je, tu, nous: Towards a culture of difference (A. Martin, Trans.). New York & London: Routledge. Keary, A. (2011). Catholic girls: The mother-daughter nexus. Gender and Education, 23(6), 695– 709. Lim, S. (1996). Among the white moonfaces: Memoirs of a nyonya feminist. Singapore: Times Books International. Modjeska, D. (1990). Poppy. Ringwood: Penguin. Perec, G. (1965). Les Choses: Une histoire des années soixante. Paris: Julliard. Puri, A., & Thomson, A. (2017). Australian lives: An intimate history. Clayton, Victoria: Monash University Publishing. Sumrall, A. C., & Vecchione, P. (1992). Catholic girls. New York: Plume. Valentine, G., Skelton, T., & Chambers, D. (1998). Cool places: An introduction to youth and youth cultures. In T. Skelton, & G. Valentine (Eds.), Cool places: Geographies of youth cultures (pp. 1–27). London: Routledge. Williams, R. (2003). Television: Technology and cultural form. London & New York: Routledge. Willis, P. (1990). Common culture. Birmingham: Open University. Williams, R., & Williams, R. H. (1977). Marxism and literature (Vol. 392). Oxford Paperbacks.

Chapter 12

Conclusion: A Coming of Age with Familiar Friends Anne Keary

Abstract Auto/biographical stories that provide valuable insights of many kinds were shared in this book. The locus of interest in the storytelling moved continually between individual and collective memoirs so as to yield new perspectives on the social and religious practices which continually shape, and are shaped by, women. The conversational interview process provided a group of Australian girls and women with a site to remember, to laugh and to talk about their past, present and futures. Nuances of similar patterns and shapes surfaced across different maternal genealogies foregrounding the strength and complexities associated with mother– daughter relationships. Expectations of how religion is to be enacted at particular periods of time were contemplated highlighting different generational understandings of spirituality.

The Book The book has drawn on data from a longitudinal project on ‘Growing up Catholic: The mother-daughter nexus’. It followed 13 groups of Australian women in two phases of interviews that spanned twenty years. Since the mid-1990s and the first phase of this study, I envisaged some type of public recognition of this research. A recognition that would celebrate the lives of this group of mothers and daughters. An acknowledgement that would draw back on and highlight these women’s histories and tell of everyday lives enmeshed in contradictions and paradoxes, hopes and dreams for not only the self but for future generations. A multi-methodological approach was used in this study to gain fresh insights into how women come to see themselves. This approach entailed women’s discussions about photographs and a range of memorabilia that represented what is not always communicated in an interview; that is, to reveal the multiple dimensions of women’s lives. An important aspect of this methodology was my own immersion as a Catholic woman and daughter into the research. My own life history, in its social situatedness, served as the point of departure and connection to the other women in this narrative. This was a useful and enlightening starting point to reveal how © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. Keary, Education, Work and Catholic Life, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-8989-4_12

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Catholic education constructed a particular version of femininity at specific periods of time, and how that influenced the mother–daughter nexus among the women I interviewed. The book began with a series of conversations that took place between myself and my childhood friend Ronnie in various locations that held meaning for us. Partial tales that interwove shared, yet separate auto/biographies were narrated, through our conversations. We discussed the contradictions inherent in our own lives as women raised in Catholic homes and educated in Catholic schools. As daughters, we talked about how we mediated the shifting social and religious panoramas of our lives reflecting on happy memories as well as anxieties and angsts. My great-grandmothers and grandmother’s stories were told next that set the scene for the ensuing tales of maternal genealogies. Following on, stories about Catholic education were related that showed how young women were shaped and shaped themselves within the boundaries of a Catholic upbringing. The next series of chapters examined young women’s transitions to study and work post school. Trends in education and training were paralleled with stories of how women negotiated transitions to, and between, study and work. The women’s stories, in the main, mirrored broader national trends while providing more nuanced accounts of what is, and was, similar and different across, and between, generations. Following on, a collection of chapters foregrounded maternal case histories that delved into stories about mobility and travel, hopes and dreams, duplicity and betrayal, and memorabilia passed among mothers and daughters. These case histories placed the lives and relationships of a group of Catholic Australian women at the centre of historical analysis. Through their exchanges, mothers and daughters located their relationship with each other as it was formed by religious, social and cultural beliefs of the times. The pretext was not to document objective measurable moments, but rather to value maternal relationships, as they are perceived of, and experienced subjectively. What is personally significant is that this study provided me with a space to discover traces of women’s stories and histories by re-locating representations of the mother–daughter nexus within the context of my own relationship with my mother. By simply taking an interest in the stories told by my mother, which I had dismissed in the past, I re-discovered my own forgotten female ancestry. I asked my mother about her mother and bygone days. We talked about photographs and pieces of memorabilia. In our conversations and shared recollections, I uncovered a vibrant mythography that had always existed within my own maternal antiquity but had lain hidden by more dominant stories.

The Personal Is Political In this study, the accrual and intertwining of personal and relational experiences is a political act. It is suggested that being political is about having knowledge and a critical voice. The data collected in this research is a form of knowledge about

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women’s perceptions and memories of their lives. The issue with making the personal political is that it is difficult to know when to stop. In this instance, I have never left the social world of the research participants and ‘when to stop’ is a nebulous question while researching from an auto/biographical feminist stance. An important point is that the study is more focused on interpreting dynamic understandings of how it is to be a Catholic or to come from a Catholic background than to determine what it is to be ‘Catholic’. The study does not seek out simple fixed answers to how growing up Catholic shaped the relationships of a group of mothers and daughters. A diversity of responses on a range of issues related to religion and upbringings were considered across the chapters teasing out how maternal intergenerational relationships are mediated. A conventional discerning feature of longitudinal research is the way in which temporality is calculated in the methodology making change a key aspect of the analysis. This study was not designed in its initial iteration as longitudinal research. Yet, the notion of change and continuity was built into the original design in terms of inter-generational relationships and the impact of these relationships across generations. Initially, questions were posed as to, ‘where do the psycho-social lives of mothers and daughters diverge? How is maternal continuity and discontinuity produced, yet contested in the lived experiences of these women?’ The second phase of the study provided insights into the interaction between history, auto/biographies and ‘research time’ (McLeod & Thomson, 2009, p. 77). It is through the temporal aspects of longitudinal research that aspects of social change and the means and tactics employed by people to make and deal with change in their daily lives come to light. Through making time an integral aspect of analysis an increased understanding was gleaned of how the personal and the social, agency and structure, the micro and macro intertwine and transfigure people’s lives (Neale & Flowerdew, 2003). A rich fine-tuned investigation was undertaken to view generational change in multiple and complex ways, so deviations and divergences could be considered.

Coming of Age This book entails a form of ‘cultural memory’ as the chapters tell personal and collective anecdotes and stories of the grand/mothers and grand/daughters re-presented. By collating and collecting these memories, and positioning them within a conceptual analysis of social, gendered and religious cultures of the past and present they become public ‘cultural memories’. The focus of the analysis shifts from the individual to the collective and closes ‘the gaps between theory and experience in ways that are intended to change the nature of the experience, not simply to accept it’ (Schratz & Walker, 1995, p. 41). Across the two phases of the study, women’s memories of past events and eras changed as bygone stories assumed different meanings. The various grand/ mother-grand/daughter reminiscences were differentially expressed across the

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phases of the study and represented practices and periods of time in a contextualised and contingent manner. The women rethought and reworked memories in complex and subjective ways, and through this revising provided rich accounts of generational change. A collective form of biography was engaged within the process of revisiting experiences, memories and emotions so that the relating of lives occurred in an agential way. Chronological age has been noted as one possible explanatory framework in terms of the temporality of women’s lives. The work of Irigaray (1993) was employed in the first phase of the research to ground the temporal analysis associated with the life cycle. Irigaray argues that there are two points lacking in Western culture’s concept of ageing as it is defined within a patriarchal linear time frame. She contends that ageing need not just be constituted as the cumulative dynamics of the adding on of years. The first phase of the research used Irigaray’s concept of ageing to assist, in particular with interpreting the voices of the older Australian Catholic women interviewed. It provided an analytic space to acknowledge the wisdom and experiences that these women bring to the social construction of womanhood, motherhood and the mother–daughter nexus. It came to my attention as a researcher that these social memories and everyday anecdotes of older women span life cycles that interweave with a range of times. To disrupt the patriarchal notion of the tallying of years Irigaray (1993) turns to the passing of the seasons—spring, summer, autumn and winter—to symbolise a different time cycle. Irigaray points out that what occurs within a season cannot be reduced to the adding on of one more year. Many vegetative changes occur seasonally every year, but each season is not the same. Irigaray claims that the seasons hold the potential to represent women as a ‘becoming’ which follows on from, yet is distinct from, that of the past year. Not only is a year added on to women’s lives but the many things which connect yet distinguish that which occurs within the seasons of each year represents women’s spiritual growth, a growth of feminine consciousness. This seasonal notion of ageing reminds me of my mother. Throughout her life, as with her sister Patricia, the garden drifted in and out of her conversations and weaved through the events and happenings of the passing years. She often chatted about her plans for the garden and the colour of the impatiens in the window box. Her thoughts seemed cued into the different shades and shapes of the seasons whether it be the reds and yellows of autumn or the deciduous forms of winter, yet the flowers bloomed in a different way each year. They bloomed a different fullness, in different colours and sometimes their bloom was remembered for other events which took place throughout the year. The sheaths of lily of the valley denoted October 1950, the occasion of her wedding. The flowering of the pansies in September of 1951 reminded her of the birth of her eldest daughter. This love of the garden was passed on to me, her daughter. During the writing of the first phase of this research, a Ph.D. thesis, I observed the changes in the tropical garden where I lived in far north Queensland; the movement between the torrential wet and pleasant dry, the humid and the arid. Living in Melbourne as I worked on

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this book, the seasons denoted a progression in writing and my own shifts in understanding as a daughter, an aunt and a woman. Like my mother in the first phase of this research, I am now in a post-menopausal period of my life. Just as it did for my mother the sunlight filters through my kitchen windows so that the African violet flowers with its striking purple blooms.

The Story of ‘Familiar Friends’ The central focus of this book has been the mother–daughter relationship in its many forms but a thread which seeped through is that of female friendship and ‘sisterhood’. ‘Sisterhood’ in terms of family relations as well as in relation to women’s struggles and rights in the Catholic church, community and broader society. Women’s relationships with each other can be understood in many ways as they pass through different stages and levels of intensity. Associations between women symbolise dimensions of trust in others, alongside a level of independency. Scribing this story of mothers and daughters and female relations provided me an auto/biographer, a daughter, with a way to somewhat explain the complexity of women’s companionship. On show in the homes of my grandmother and mother were ornate religious statues and pictures that were adorned with rosaries and bordered by vases of flowers. This religious iconography represented different tales of Mary, the mother of Jesus, as well as stories of saints such as St. Thérèse and St. Bernadette. Haughton (1995) writes that saints, ‘are familiar friends to talk to, and people often take a few minutes out of the busy day to kneel, light a candle, or set down a bouquet and say a prayer…’ (24). These adorations were part of the fabric of my childhood and represent the deep unquestioning Catholic faith of my maternal forebears (Keary, 2017). Tales of Mary, the Virgin mother of Jesus and the saints were told to me as I grew up Catholic. In this book I could have elected to focus more on this Catholic doctrine to try to come to a better understanding of my religious upbringing but instead I prefer ‘to build little shrines’ (24) of remembrance to the mother–daughter relationship and ‘familiar friends’ who shared with me a little bit about how women guide and inform each other’s subjectivity through their relationships.

Other Stories to Tell The intent of this study was to provide a partial and particular socio-historical perspective on the positioning of the Catholic mother–daughter relationship. This qualitative longitudinal tale provided insightful analysis of how women are positioned by Catholicism. Yet, it concerns me that I have made public the private lives of the women whose voices are heard in this text and seen in the photographs.

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Auto/biographical theory does not just make the personal political but also public. So, while this political project has made visible women’s perceptions of their lived realities it has also opened their lives and ways of thinking to public scrutiny. This represents the ambivalent and contradictory tension and logic of the feminist tenet of the ‘personal is political’. My own political and theoretical intent is similarly ambivalent and contradictory as I aspire to redraw the boundaries of female subjectivity—to shape a renewed understanding of Catholic women’s lives and to expose how the ‘public face’ of Catholicism is experienced by Catholic women in their private, personal lives. The double bind is that this book provides a site for Catholic women to articulate their stories yet, at the same time, it takes away a piece of their private space. This book constructs a textual space which stretches the boundaries of the traditional academic genre. The intent is that female subjectivity is read without closure or completeness. A strength, yet limitation of this book, is that some stories of the mother–daughter relationship were told but many stories were left unstated. I believe that the women framed themselves, in the interviews and through their own editing of their interview transcripts, as they wanted to be represented. Stories of abuse, sexual orientation, mental wellbeing, and sickness were discussed in the interviews but did not always make it into the finished manuscript. Periods of conflict and dissension between mothers and daughters were at times eclipsed. The authors of the text chose to include or exclude material on the basis of its usefulness to the conceptual analysis. Personal stories were excluded sometimes by the authors for ethical reasons of privacy and respect for the women and their families. In the end, some painful and uncomfortable stories about everyday life were left unexpressed. So, a partial and contingent understanding of the Catholic mother–daughter nexus is provided in this book. The material realities of life will continue to rebut and challenge these understandings. The ambiguities, ambivalences and contradictions are immense and perhaps insurmountable. Nevertheless, I do believe that social analysis provides opportunities to engage in discussion about the plural and multiple meanings of what it is to be women. For some women, this engagement may ease some of the tensions and anxieties attached to womanhood as well as highlight sites of pleasure and contentment. It can also assist women in gaining a political voice, whether in the private or public domain, with which to assert their identity and desires, and to challenge silencing ideologies. There remains much to be written about women’s histories, relationships and lived realities as they are positioned within historical, social and religious discourses. Perhaps the challenge for scholars does not lie exclusively with the gathering and analysis of women’s stories but in finding modes of representation which are accessible to and engaging for a wide readership. I hope that other stories of these maternal genealogies will be told to complement the insights provided into the lives of the women represented in this book.

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References Haughton, R. (1995). Personal patrons: Three lives that shaped mine. U.S. Catholic, 60(11), 25– 29. Irigaray, L. (1993). Je, tu, nous: Towards a culture of difference (A. Martin, Trans.). New York & London: Routledge. Keary, A. (2017). ‘Familiar friends’: Catholic mother–daughter narratives. Culture and Religion. https://doi.org/10.1080/14755610.2017.1287108. McLeod, J., & Thomson, R. (2009). Researching social change: Qualitative approaches. Sage Publications. Neale, B., & Flowerdew, J. (2003). Time, texture and childhood: The contours of longitudinal qualitative research. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 6, 189–199. Schratz, M. & Walker, R. (1995). Research as social change: New opportunities for qualitative research. London & New York: Routledge.

Epilogue Anne Keary and Christina Schwartz

I close this book with a diary entry written by my niece Christina in her travel journal. This travel monologue is in memory of her sister Melissa, who passed away at the age of 33 in September 2017, my grandmother, my mother and her sister Inez who are no longer with us but will continue to be remembered in the many stories that we tell (Epilogue Image 1).

Epilogue Image 1 Christina (left) and Anne (right) with Byzantine wooden plaque of St. Anne with her daughter Mary. Jerusalem Christian Quarter Israel, January 2018

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Christina’s Travel Journey Entry As we were in the Christian quarters, Aunty Anne and I walked into a shop to ask about any images or statues of St. Anne and her daughter Mary (Jesus’s mother) as so many representations of the mother/son are in the world but not of the mother/daughter. My gran had a sister called Inez who was an avid traveller. Back then, it was a lot harder for women to travel. Inez bought a wooden statue of St. Anne and her daughter Mary whilst in Germany to give to my great grandmother. Inez passed away at the young age of 33 from an asthma attack. She was a teacher of young children—to hear this was interesting as her life was such a parallel to my sister Melissa’s. When Great Gran passed, this statue was given to Gran and she passed this along to Aunty Anne. Anne had travelled to Jerusalem, Israel in her early 20s. So, the fact that she had returned with me in my early 20s and we found this wooden plaque image, of St. Anne and her daughter Mary, whilst she is doing a Research Book about Generational Mother/Daughter relationships with strong reference to religion has been an incredibly insightful, full circled story to be woven. These, what some would call coincidences, divine synchronicities are such a gift and tangible wisdom. I’m in indescribable awe of the infinitely woven tapestry of ancestry.

Appendix A: The Cast Anne Keary

Appendix A provides short biographical accounts of the women who participated in this study. It draws largely on interview transcript excerpts. These excerpts are embellished at times, by the voice of the researcher (my voice) who knows the research participants well. These accounts do not represent closure or completeness but rather are profiles that provide a glimpse into the histories of the research participants. In all, 13 family groups of Catholic mothers and daughters took part in the first phase of the study (1994–1995) including members of my own family (see Table 2.1). In phase one, 36 women were interviewed; 13 women from generation one and 23 women of Generation 2. The age range for the women who participated in phase one of the study was early 30s to early 70s. During phase two of the research (2015–2018), 12 of the same family groups were interviewed. Not all women from phase one participated. The participants were 7 women from Generation 1, 19 women from Generation 2 and 23 women from Generation 3. In all, 49 women ranging in age from 10 to late 80s partook in the study. Four women from Generation 1 had passed away in the intermediary period between interviews but are remembered in the study through their initial interview and in their daughters and granddaughters’ memoirs.

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Table A.1 Research participants: the researcher’s family Family

Interview 1 (Age)

Interview 2 (Age)

Generation 1

Generation 2

Generation 1

Researcher’s family

Marie (69) Deceased 2005 Inez (deceased 1963, aged 33)

Bernadette (45) Anne (37) (researcher) Marie (35) Loreto (32)

Researcher’s cousins

Patricia (62)

Margie (41) Pauline (32)

Patricia (83)

Generation 2

Generation 3

Bernadette (64) Anne (56) (researcher) Loreto (51)

Sarah (25) Marie’s (54) (daughters) Melissa (32) Neera (30) Claire (28) Christina (22)

Margie (61) Pauline (54)

Joanne (22) Jacqueline (18) Samantha (9)

My Maternal Family The maternal story became more comprehensive with the inclusion of conversations with my mother, my sister’s and their daughters, my mother’s sister, her daughters and granddaughters. This extended maternal family is represented in Table A.1. The tale of six generations of my maternal family is told in Chap. 2.

Marie’s Family Marie, my mother described her early family life, post-school pathways and how she met my father. I was the eldest and I had two sisters and we were a happy family. Dad was a funny man, he always had a great sense of humour and my mother did too. She was a wonderful person… I went nursing at St. Vincent’s hospital in Melbourne and I loved it. There were some lovely girlfriends that I lived with, and we had a great time; one of the happiest times of my life. I graduated from there and I went to Sydney with two others, my sister-in-law as she is today, and another girl and we did our midwifery at St. Margaret’s hospital in Darlinghurst. That’s how I met your father… He had a lot of work to do in Sydney with his job and he’d be there for about a week. When he came to Sydney, he’d always look up the nurses as his sister was a nurse. We went onto get married in 1950. It was a lovely wedding at St. Anne’s, East Kew…We were very happy, and we had our honeymoon in Tasmania. That was quite a thing in those days because we were going overseas for our honeymoon (laughs) to Tasmania. (Interview 1995)

Marie had four daughters and three sons (see Image A.1) for Marie with two of her daughters. I was the second daughter and fifth child. Marie’s daughters’ namesakes are all connected with tales of the Virgin Mary. My older sister Bernadette was

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Image A.1 Marie (centre) holding daughter Loreto (left) with daughter Bernadette (right) in 1965

named after the 12-year-old French girl Bernadette. Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ, appeared to St. Bernadette at the grotto at Lourdes in the south of France. I am named after Mary’s mother Anne. Marie, my younger sister is named after my mother; Marie being French for Mary. Loreto, my youngest sister, is named after Our Lady of Loreto. Inez, my mother’s sister brought back a book about Our Lady of Loreto from her travels overseas and gave it to her sister Marie. My mother passed it on to my sister Loreto in her teenage years. As the story goes, the angels carried the house of Nazareth, the home of Mary (known as Our Lady), to the small town of Loreto in Italy. My mother’s naming of her daughters symbolised a Catholic maternal history. Marie’s daughters Bernadette, Marie’s eldest daughter spoke of her married life in outback Australia. In 1996, I would have moved from Mittiebah Station in the Northern Territory a remote cattle station, with my husband and three children to Tipperary Station, which was closer to Darwin. My children would have been on School of the Air. They would have moved to a small school. So, the biggest change has been that they’ve all passed on to their next stage in life. Sarah’s doing her Master’s, my eldest son is finishing his apprenticeship in diesel mechanics and my youngest son is finishing his science degree. My husband had made a major shift from managing cattle stations to be the executive officer of the campus of a private school in Melbourne, which is based in the Kimberley’s. That’s been a major shift he’s away a lot. So, from being a very compact little family, we’re a very scattered family and they all boomerang back. I’ve returned to nursing, that’s the other major thing. I was doing bookkeeping previously. We live in Western Australia now. (Interview 2016, aged 64)

Bernadette talked about shifts in family life over the past 20 years. Anne, the author of this book and Marie’s second eldest daughter described the conversations she had with her mother Marie in 1994 and 1995 about her grandmother Mary’s early twentieth-century photo album.

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Our mother daughter discussion was relaxed with the conversation coming from both of us and from the album too. However, this is not to deny the contradictions and ambiguities inherent in a mother daughter reading where there are differences in interpretation. For my mother, a Catholic framework situated her knowledge whilst for me feminist undercurrents shaped my reading. Hence, differently situated women both wanted to make claims on the grandmother … The collective work of reading my grandmother’s photo album opened up a channel of communication between my mother and I, which had not been present. However, the de/composition although apparent in the scene of co-reading the photographs became a more pronounced feminist agenda through the act of writing. The act of writing to a degree distanced my mother from the project (pp. 958–959). Reference: Anne Keary (2013). De/Composing Gran’s photo album. Cultural Studies, 27 (6), 955–981.

Anne reflected on the contradictions and ambiguities entailed in mother– daughter conversations. Marie’s third daughter, who has her namesake, did not participate in the second phase of this study. Melissa and Christina, her daughters, shared the love they have for their mother Christina: I moved back to Sydney because my mum was sick and had cancer. So, I spent quite a few months just managing that and dealing with that … In some ways, my mother’s illness has impacted on me but in other ways it’s probably made our relationship better. Just being there and having that time together has created a different relationship and an almost better one. Although, we don’t see each other all the time, in a strange way it allowed us to spend a lot of time together and to get to know each other for who we are… So, it impacted in a good way, but it was also a very tough challenge, yes, to have to go through that with someone. (Interview 2016) Melissa: Well unfortunately I was over in Italy when Mum got sick and at the same time, the same week, the mother of my husband went into a coma. I remember…it was a really stressful time. I offered to go back to Australia, but mum insisted that I stay here. Affecting our relationship…definitely. I think by that stage I’d already reached a level of like loving mum for who she was. I think at a certain age you reach a level of maturity realizing how much your mother sacrificed for you or how much she did for you and so you just love her for that. You don’t really look at the faults that maybe before irritated you. But I felt I needed to care for her more and tried to support her more in the little way I could from Italy. Maybe, I felt a little bit of guilt that I couldn’t be there with her. (Interview 2016)

Loreto, Marie’s youngest daughter has travelled extensively over the past 20 years for work and leisure. So, 20 years ago I was living and teaching in Melbourne. I was teaching in a Catholic primary school. Then in 1997 I moved to Jakarta to teach in an International school… I spent the next six years in Jakarta and then I returned to Melbourne for a year where I did my second master’s degree, which was a Masters of Education TESOL. After that I returned to Jakarta for two more years. Then I moved to Beijing where I worked for six years. Now, I’m in Prague working and this is my fourth year working in Prague. So, a big shift for me from being based in Melbourne to now living and working overseas and being an expat. (Interview 2016, aged 51)

Loreto described how she became an expat working in international schools.

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Image A.2 Marie visiting her daughter Bernadette and grand-daughter Sarah at a cattle station in the Northern Territory in 1992

Marie’s Granddaughters Marie, my mother has five maternal granddaughters. Marie loved talking about her children and her grandchildren. She told stories of her travels to the Northern Territory to visit her daughter Bernadette on the different cattle stations Bernadette’s husband managed. Marie enjoyed the time she spent with Bernadette and her daughter Sarah (see Image A.2). Sarah (Bernadette’s daughter) who was 25 years old at the time of the interview gave insight into the various transitional phases of her life. I started my schooling over School of the Air… After that I went to a small school on a cattle property in the Northern Territory… I had a year in Darwin before we moved to another cattle property outside of Broome … At the age of 15, in year ten I went to boarding school just outside of Melbourne. After school, I took a gap year and worked for a resort in Broome. I went to university in Melbourne and did a Bachelor of Arts. I lived overseas for two years working as an English language teacher in Vietnam…I’ve been back in Australia for two to three months. Now I’m doing a Masters in Applied Linguistics… Living on cattle properties Mum would take us to church when we were in town, but I wasn’t going to church on a regular basis. (Interview 2016, aged 25)

Sarah is currently a secondary school teacher in Alice Springs in Australia’s red centre. Melissa, Neera, Claire and Christina (Marie’s daughters) Marie loved the occasions when her grandchildren who lived in Sydney came to stay at her bayside home in Melbourne (see Image A.3). These four granddaughters were full of life and vigour and loved to hear stories of their grandmother. Melissa (1984–2017), Marie’s eldest grandchild and the eldest daughter of her daughter Marie as a young woman lived, studied and worked in a range of locations both within Australia and overseas: I went to a public elementary school in Sydney up until class five…I started year six in Perth and then I did up to year 10 at an international boarding school in India in Himachal Pradesh. I finished year 11 and 12 at a public girl’s school in Sydney. I went to UTS

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Image A.3 Neera, Claire and Marie, their grandmother in the early 1990s

(University of Technology Sydney) and did a Medical Science/International Studies double degree. I’m the eldest of five children and I’m married to an Italian. I’ve been in Italy since 2008, so more than five years… I’ve been working in Italy as a private English teacher in schools, working in language centres and living in Rome. Unfortunately, this last year I’ve been quite sick with cancer, so I haven’t been working. (Interview 2016, aged 32)

Sadly, Melissa passed away at the age of 33 during the writing of this book. Neera is the second eldest child of Marie (Generation 2). Neera attended a range of schools in an attempt to find the right school to cater for her learning needs. I went to a few different schools growing up … I went to a school in India, I think I was about five or six …and only went there for six months. I also went to a primary school in Sydney. From there I went to another primary school, that had an IM class which is for people with learning difficulties who can’t cope in a mainstream environment. I also went to a special needs schools for people that have a disability. I didn’t really enjoy school. I enjoyed more going to TAFE. I enjoyed the adult environment at TAFE. (Interview 2016, aged 30)

Neera lives independently in a regional area of New South Wales. Claire the next of Marie’s (Generation 2) daughters has taken on the role of motherhood herself. Claire shared the joy she gets from her young children. I’m married with two children. The eldest boy is three and the youngest boy is one. Getting married and having kids has changed my life…I studied overseas at a religious boarding school in India for eight years. The religious aspect was a very big part of the everyday routine. I have changed religions since coming back to Australia… I’ve now been baptized as a Coptic Orthodox Christian in an Egyptian church … I’ve worked at an Insurance company for about 10 years…The moments when the boys are good and they’re happy; when they come up and hug you, [I feel] overwhelming joy, indescribable. I can’t really properly remember my life before they were here. (Interview 2016, aged 28).

Since the interview, Claire has given birth to two more children—a girl and a boy.

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Image A.4 Mia and Claire in 2017

Christina is the youngest child of Marie (Generation 2) and has a love for life. I went to a public school in Sydney… For year eleven and twelve I went to a Performing Arts School. It swings, but I’d like to study either environmental management… or holistic practices such as massage and traditional medicine, herbal medicine… I really enjoyed school up to a certain age and then, I started thinking about different options and that’s probably why I didn’t want to go to university straight after school; I was really questioning a lot. I see the beauty of studying something that you enjoy… but it really has to come out of my own drive. (Interview 2016, aged 22)

Christina enjoys travelling and working overseas. More of her and her sister Melissa’s story is told in Chap. 9. Marie’s Great Granddaughter The maternal line continues. In 2016, Marie’s granddaughter Claire (Marie’s daughter) gave birth to her daughter Mia (see Image A.4). Claire expressed her hopes for her children as I want for my kids the same support and love that I got from my parents… I had a very happy childhood with my family, and I remember most of it quite fondly. I just want to be there for my children how my mum was for me. (Interview 2016, aged 28)

Claire, like her mother and maternal grandmothers, wants to be there for her children to give them love and guidance. Inez (1930–1963, Aged 33) Inez was the middle daughter of Mary and Marie’s younger sister. As a young child, I have faint recollections of Inez. The photo (see Image A.5) shows Mary, my grandmother, holding me as a baby with Inez standing slightly to the right and behind her. The occasion was the First Holy Communion of one of my siblings. At such events, the extended family gathered and celebrated the occasion. Patricia, her younger sister, spoke of her sister Inez fondly. I did some kindergarten teaching and Inez did a full kindergarten course and went to Canberra and worked on a mobile teaching unit that travelled round in the caravan to the

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Image A.5 Mary holding grand-daughter Anne and Inez at a family first holy communion

outback areas of Canberra. I was influenced by Inez, my sister, with the teaching. You only really had a choice of teaching, nursing and secretarial work if you went to a secondary school. If you’d left at primary school level which many of the children did you had retail, hairdressing, dressmaking. (Interview 2017, aged 84)

Inez and Patricia’s story are told in Chap. 9.

Patricia’s Family Patricia was interviewed on several occasions (1995, 2016, 2017 and 2018). Patricia is my maternal aunty. My mother was no longer with us for the second phase of interviews and as a researcher I kept going back to Patricia to find out more about my maternal history. I’m 62 and I brought six children up, mostly on my own. Ten years of marriage then widowed. The children were all under ten years of age and I brought the children up. My early days of schooling were at a Catholic primary school and then at a Catholic secondary school in Richmond, Vaucluse convent. I was the youngest of three children, three girls. The eldest one had left primary school when I moved to primary and had left secondary school when I moved to secondary school, so we weren’t really close in those years. I was much closer to the middle sister who was only two and a half years older. It wasn’t until she died at the age of 33 that the older sister and I became closer in ways by playing golf together once a week. We both had families, we had a few things in common… Two sisters older than me. They took over and tried to keep order over me, the younger sister. In school, there was always their ambitions to keep up to, it was always pointed out how they behaved and how good they were with their schoolwork and one thing and another. However, I think all these things tended to make me perhaps rebel a fraction but also to become a strong individual to realize that you had to be your person. (Interview 1995, aged 62)

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I’ve moved to a new house. I moved just around the corner, but I pulled the old house down where I am living now, and I built two units on this block of land. I live in one of them. It’s smaller [than the big family home] just a two-bedroom unit. I’m very happy here. I’m very interested in my garden, making it look very pretty. I don’t have the same interests that I had twenty years ago, because I haven’t got the same energy, but I am interested in the garden. I’m interested in reading, television, church activities and involving myself in the Probus group in the area…. I keep in touch with the family, which amounts to now seventeen grandchildren and two great grandchildren…I’m 83. I’m coming up to have another birthday, I’ll be 84. (Interview 2016, aged 83)

Patricia’s Daughters I saw my cousins regularly during my growing up years. Every Sunday afternoon, we would meet at my grandmother Mary’s home in Kew and have afternoon tea together. The younger generation would play in the backyard while the adults sat in the warmth of the living area and discussed weekly events including what was happening in the local parish and the priests’ Sunday sermons. Margie and Pauline, Patricia’s two daughters, attended a Catholic girls’ secondary school run by the Presentation nuns in the south-eastern suburbs of Melbourne. Margie is Patricia’s eldest child. She was interviewed with her mother and sister Pauline in 1995 and shared a little of her story. I work six months of the year in Melbourne and the other six months of the year I migrate interstate where I enjoy the warmer climate. I work with computers in an office… I went to a Catholic college in the eastern suburbs of Melbourne and then went to a boarding school for one year… I’m the eldest of six children. (Interview 1995, aged 41)

The second interview with Margie took place at her mother’s home in 2018, when she was on a break from her missionary work in China. I’ve done many things in the last 23 years… I’ve travelled extensively around the world, having probably been around the world, five or six times, I have worked in different countries, and got involved in missionary trips in Africa and Asia. My relationship with my family is wonderful. With all the wonderful communications we have Facebook, email… it’s easier to communicate when you're abroad. In particular with my own mother, she’s developed a passion for the computer; for the iPad. (Interview 2018)

Margie continues to work as a missionary.

Pauline—Interviewed 1995 and 2016 Pauline is the fifth of Patricia’s children. She took a different life path to her sister Margie.

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Pauline: I’m married, have one daughter and I’m not working as a nurse at the moment … I think the Catholic faith makes assumptions about members of the family, like I assumed that my sister has the same Christian outlook as me because we came from the same Catholic backgrounds. I assumed that Mum did as well. Patricia (her mother): … it’s called love Pauline: I suppose so. (Interview 1995, aged 32)

In the second phase of the study, Pauline was interviewed with her mother Patricia and her three daughters and was busy juggling family and work. [In the last 20 years] I’ve had three more children. I had a girl when we first met. I’ve now got a boy and three girls… We have our own house in Bayside and we also have our holiday house… I work three days a week and most of my time is spent mothering and daughtering. (Interview 2016, aged 54)

The meaning of any story is provisional depending on the context in which it is situated and told at any specified moment. That is, stories can have one meaning in one place and a completely different meaning in another time and place. The stories and photos about the older generations in my maternal family have had, and will hold many meanings, across time and generations as the multiple meanings given to stories continue to be interpreted and understood.

Patricia’s Granddaughters—Interviewed 2016 Joanne is the eldest of Pauline’s children. Prior to the interview, she has spent a semester studying in France which she thought was ‘really cool’. I’m at Australia Catholic University (ACU). I’m studying a double degree in Arts and Global studies and am in my fourth year now. I should be finished at the end of the year… I’m still really close to a lot of friends I made in high school… At Catholic secondary college, I was encouraged to participate in volunteer programs and that kind of helped me when I started travelling. (Interview 2016, aged 22)

Joanne works for a travel company and enjoys the travel bonuses she earns. Jacqueline, the middle daughter of Pauline, was completing her final year of study at a Catholic girls’ secondary college. I’m 18 and I’m in Year 12 at a Catholic secondary college. [I’m studying] English, maths, literature, business and PE, and last year I did psychology. I haven’t really done any extracurricular activities through school but outside I do quite a few…I did competitive cheerleading and I also do Brownie Guides. (Interview 2016, aged 18)

Since the interview, Jacqueline has completed her Year 12 successfully and is now undertaking higher education studies. Samantha, the youngest child of Pauline is a number of years younger than her siblings. Samantha’s mother Pauline and grandmother Patricia helped her tell her story about her love for the performing arts.

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Samantha: I’m in year four and I go to a Catholic primary school. Patricia (grandmother): Very soon you’re having a birthday Pauline (mother): And you’ve got a concert coming up… a drama concert. Patricia (grandmother): Oh, you like drama and singing and dancing and playing the piano? Samantha: Yeah. (Interview 2016, aged 9)

Samantha listened to the interview conversation and quietly responded to questions when asked.

My School Friends and Their Maternal Families Brief accounts are now provided of the second cohort of women who participated in this study. Generation 2 were women who attended Catholic girls’ secondary college with me in the 1960s and 70s. Generation 1 are the mothers of Generation 2 and Generation 3 were daughters and in one instance, a niece of Generation 2 women. The interviews took place in their family homes or on a few occasions via online connections. The women welcomed me into their homes to share their stories. The interviews opened up a space to converse as mothers and daughters, as women, about a range of topics (Table A.2).

Family A Sally was a year behind me at school. Sally and her mother Aileen participated in an interview in 1995 at Aileen’s home. Aileen was one of seven children and Sally had two older brothers. In 2016, Aileen, Sally and her daughters Katelyn, Sarah and Hannah participated in the research at Sally’s home. Aileen, Sally and Katelyn were interviewed together followed by Sarah and Hannah, who are twins. Since the interviews, Katelyn has given birth to a son. Generation 1 Aileen remembered life growing up in a large family and now relishes the love of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I was the third of seven children … started work when I was 14… married at 20 and had my first child at 25, two boys and a girl. When I married a non-Catholic (my mother) apologised to the priest… I wasn’t very impressed with [Catholic education]. I detested it really, I didn’t really like the nuns. I watched that my kids weren’t treated like the nuns treated us and I don’t think they were. I can’t say that I was terribly happy with nuns. I went to a state school for a short time and I was quite happy there. If I had my time again, I wouldn’t go to a Catholic school. (Interview 1995, aged 65)

In recent times, Aileen had become a great-grandmother and enjoyed her new role:

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Table A.2 Research participants: my school friends and their maternal families Family

Interview 1 (Age) Generation 1 Generation 2

Interview 2 (Age) Generation Generation 1 2

Family A

Aileen (65)

Sally (34)

Aileen (87)

Family B

Mona (70s) Deceased 2005

Sue (40) Ronnie (37)

Family C

Lucille (58)

Cath (37)

Lucille (80)

Cath (57)

Family D

Pat (64)

Pat (85)

Family E

Francis (58) Maria (61)

Mary (57) Fiona (50) Anne (55) Helen (55) Joan (56)

Emily (19)

Family F

Family G

Meg (76) Deceased 2001 Nadia (69) Deceased 2018 Peg (64) Deceased 2017 Audrey (64) Agatha (66) Deceased 2011

Mary (36) Fiona (29) Anne (35) Helen (35) Joan (35) Adelaine (35) Trish (35)

Trish (56)

Rosie (18)

Pam (61) Cilla (57) Kate (56) Fleur (52) Andrea (57)

Debra (29) (niece)

Family H Family I Family J Family K

Pam (39) Cilla (35) Kate (35) Fleur (31) Andrea (37) Marie (36) Gaye (33) Cinti (31)

Sally (55)

Sue (61) Ronnie (58)

Francis

Peg (85) Audrey (85)

Generation 3 Katelyn (28) Sarah (24) Hannah (24) Jane (32) Felicity (30) Georgia (23) Eleanor (26) Lucy (24) Anna (22) Olivia (19)

Lucy (21) Genevieve (15)

I’m a great grandmother. They’re all delightful children. They love old people and they love young people. I love them dearly… the whole family visit and take care of me and sends over meals… I’ve got no complaints. We have a very good life and we’re very lucky. (Interview 2016, aged 87)

Aileen commented on how she felt very close to her daughter Sally’s children. Generation 2 Sally, Aileen’s only daughter, juggled family and study commitments. The youngest of three. When I finished school, I went to Ballarat teacher’s college to do a Diploma of Education in primary education. Then I did a Graduate Diploma in Special Education at Burwood teacher’s college. I was married in 1986… We have five children and I’m at home full time. I work one night a week teaching at TAFE. (Interview 1995, aged 34)

Twenty years on, Sally spoke highly of her five children and where they are in life.

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Five adult children who’ve all got their heads screwed on. It is really, really nice … I don’t worry about any of them … and they’re all making their way in the world… It’s a very different type of closeness I have with the girls to what I have with Mum. I would say Mum and I probably have more of a friendship… I think it’s partially because I don’t have sisters, I only have brothers. (Interview 2016, aged 55)

Sally commented how at the end of the day she is just pleased that all her children are happy. Generation 3 Katelyn, Sally’s eldest daughter, was on maternity leave from her position as an occupational therapist at the time of the interview. She provided a brief outline of where she is at in life. I went to a Catholic primary school until grade two and then I moved to a state school and then a government secondary college… I’m an occupational therapist and I work in brain injury rehabilitation. Well, I’m a new mum and I’ve got a six-month-old. I was married in January two years ago. (Interview 2016, aged 28)

Katelyn hopes that when she’s her grandmother’s age she too will have grandchildren. Sarah, like her older sister Katelyn, became an occupational therapist. She spoke about study and work. I went to a local secondary college and completed Year 12 there and after that went straight into an occupational therapy degree for four years. Then I went straight into fulltime work as an occupational therapist. Since then I’ve had a few jobs, I’ve enjoyed working part-time… I’ve worked in private practice and with the Education Department in a few different schools working with children with intellectual disabilities. (Interview 2016, aged 24)

Sarah expressed her desire to build her capacity as an occupational therapist. Hannah, Sarah’s twin sister, talked about how she followed in the footsteps of her mother and sister. So same as Sarah, went to the same local secondary college until Year 12. Then I took a gap year and just worked at a pub and at Mum’s school. I went to university in a regional area – the same university as Mum actually–studied nursing there for three years and then got a job at the Royal Children’s hospital so I came back to Melbourne. (Interview 2016, aged 24)

Hannah suggested that she learned soft skills for the workforce from her mother.

Family B Mona and two of her three daughters, Sue and Ronnie, were interviewed in 1995 at Mona’s home. Sue and Ronnie had young daughters at the time. On 30 December 2015, the second phase of interviews began on a hot summer’s day at Sue’s home.

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Sue was re-interviewed with her daughters Jane and Felicity. Jane has given birth to two children since this interview. Ronnie and her daughter Georgia were interviewed almost a year later in December 2016 at Ronnie’s workplace. Generation 1 Mona talked about the hardships when growing up and her early married life: Things were a bit hard when we were growing up. We knew what it was not to have things… I was only fourteen when I went to work … I worked then up until I was married… I had four children … and two miscarriages. I was quite happy. You had your problems bringing them up one way and another. The money wasn’t around then like it is now. (Interview 1995, aged in her 70s)

Mona passed away in May 2015. Sue, her daughter, remembered that the day she died all the grandchildren were ‘telling stories… as though they were the only grandchild who mattered’ (Interview 2015). Generation 2 Sue shared the uncertainties associated with being a mother and a worker. She raised two daughters whilst living in different parts of Australia and overseas. I’m the third of Mona’s four children… When my children were little, I was really torn between wanting to do in the workplace what I genuinely liked (secondary school teaching) and what I thought I was good at. All the messages I got were that I was doing the wrong thing that … I should be at home and I should be happy, but I wasn’t. (Interview 1995, aged 40)

At the time of the second interview, Sue had just retired. She shared her thoughts about her own spirituality. I think I am a spiritual person and I’m perhaps more institutionalised than my daughters. I go to mass reasonably often. I’m also a philosophy student, so I think I’ve perhaps broadened my understanding of spirituality in the last few years. The tenants of Christianity are shared by most of the major religions, so in a sense philosophy reinforces my spirituality. (Interview 2015, aged 61)

Sue spoke of how her mother is still very much a presence for her even though she is not with them anymore. Ronnie is the youngest of Mona’s four children and has two children. She works as an academic in the field of social work. At the first interview, she commented. I think our relationship, mum's and mine, is very close since I’ve had Georgia and it the most honest. It feels very reciprocal like we give to one another and we receive from one another. And that’s changed I think since Georgia’s been born. I mean not that it wasn’t good beforehand but I think it was either more one-sided or the other and now that she's born it not that it's anything conscious at all but there seems to different dimension to it that. (Interview 1995, aged 37)

Twenty years on, Ronnie spoke of how proud she is of her children.

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Well, I’m an academic and I work full time… I do a lot of work with community partnerships. I teach, and do lots of writing… Neither of the kids live at home at the moment … they’re now adults… I think the most positive thing is seeing my kids grow up and having relationships with them as adults. I just feel incredibly proud… Watching them gives me enormous pleasure and they’re just lovely people in the world and all of those values that we share. I’m really impressed with the fact that they’re really independent, in a whole range of different ways, much more than I think I was at their age. (Interview 2016, aged 58)

Ronnie spoke of the inspiring card her daughter Georgia wrote to her when her mother Mona died. She still treasures and reads that card to this day. Generation 3 Sue’s daughters Jane was 7 months pregnant at the time of the interview. I went to different primary schools and then I went to a Catholic secondary girl’s college. I went to Melbourne University and did Arts Law. I did my Articles in Melbourne and then I moved to London for five years. Now I’m back in Australia… I think Felicity and I have similar values to mum and Mona, but obviously not with the Catholic constraints. (Interview 2015, aged 32)

Jane now is the mother of two young children. Felicity shared a warm memory of an afternoon she spent with her Nan Mona as a young child. I like Jane went to lots of different primary schools. I was at a local Catholic primary school, and Nan Mona used to pick me up every afternoon. We’d always go and get an ice-cream. Then I went to [two different Catholic girls] High Schools. I did a Bachelor of Arts and Teaching and worked at a (government secondary) college. Now I’m at another government secondary college. (Interview 2015, aged 30)

Felicity spoke of how she had inherited he grandmother’s and mother’s values of hard work and ‘always delivering your best to other people’. Ronnie’s daughter Georgia had just started working full time in the field of marketing at the time of the interview. She spoke of the importance of community in her life. The biggest community that I’m part of at the moment is the Frisbee community. Throughout my life I’ve jumped from community to community retaining some ties from other communities. Since starting university, it’s been a mixture of the high school crew and the Frisbee crew. (Interview 2016, aged 23)

Georgia commented on the importance of extended family throughout her growing up years.

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Family C Lucille and Cath were interviewed in 1995 at Lucille’s home. Cath had three young daughters at the time. In 2016, I visited Cath’s home and interviewed her mother Lucille, herself and Cath’s eldest daughter Eleanor joined us via Skype from Mexico. Cath had been living in Shanghai with her husband for three and a half years and was on a visit home to Melbourne, Cath’s younger daughters’ Lucy and Anna took part in an interview about 6 weeks later at Cath’s home which they were living in while their parents were in Shanghai. Cath has since returned to live in Melbourne. Generation 1 Lucille provided an overview of her life as a young woman. I grew up in Bacchus Marsh which was then a country town… I was there until I was 12 or 13. Then I came to Melbourne for boarding school for a few years. I left school after year 11… I met my husband who I married a couple of years later. He was not keen on me doing any more study so being in love at the age of 19, I didn’t take on any further study. (Interview, 1995, aged 58)

Lucille returned to study later in life. At the time of the second interview, Lucille was enjoying good health: I’m fairly active. I play golf. I’m a choir member. I joined a refugee support group. That’s mainly it. I’m the mother of six children, most of whom unfortunately are either interstate or international which is probably the biggest sorrow in our lives. (Interview 2016, aged 80)

Lucille likes to travel with her husband and visit her children and grandchildren. Generation 2 Cath spoke of her work life as a secondary school teacher. After school I went to Melbourne University for three years and then I did a Diploma of Education at Mercy college in Asco vale. I taught for three years at a Catholic secondary school on the Peninsula… and then moved to an eastern suburb’s Catholic college. I’m on maternity leave from there at the moment. (Interview 1995, aged 37)

At the time of the second interview, Cath was living in Shanghai, China with her husband and undertaking voluntary work. I’m in Melbourne at the moment but I’ve been mostly living in Shanghai for the last few years because of my husband’s work. I’ve been doing some work there; mostly volunteer work. I think I’ll be back in Melbourne in a couple of years’ time. I have three grown up daughters and they’re all doing their independent things. (Interview 2016, aged 56)

Cath spoke of how she loves to spend time with her daughters but likes some independent time as well.

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Generation 3 Eleanor spoke of her 7-month international travels. However, she was looking forward to her return home. I’m currently in Mexico. I’m in the last seven weeks of a seven–month trip in Mexico, Central America that has also included North America. I quit my job last year to come on this trip. I am really pleased I did but I am looking forward to coming home and getting my career started again and seeing my friends and my family and having everyday life in Melbourne. (Skype call with researcher, mother and grandmother from Mexico). (Interview 2016, aged 26)

Eleanor has since returned to living and working in Melbourne. Lucy shared a little bit about what she has studied post-school. I’m currently doing my postgraduate studies in counselling. I also work with international students as an accommodation provider in the city… Well there’s been lots of changes in the last five years. Five years ago, I was doing my Bachelor of Arts at Melbourne university and living at Newman College. (Interview 2016, aged 24)

Lucy noted that she felt really challenged by religion. Anna talked about her work, study and travels overseas. I am working at a church in the city. I’m also studying at RMIT doing marketing… I did Year 12 and then I went overseas for about eight months; did six months in Europe and two months in Southeast Asia and about half of that was on my own. Then I came back and went to Newman college for two years while I studied at RMIT. I then moved back home for a year. I’ve just moved out into a share house with four friends. (Interview 2016, aged 22)

Anna commented on how her mother wanted a religious education for her daughters but had said after that it was up to them to make their own choice about the place of religion in their lives.

Family D In 1995, Pat and her two daughters Mary and Fiona were interviewed at Pat’s home. In 2016, an interview took place with Pat, her daughters Mary and Fiona and Fiona’s daughter Olivia at Mary’s home. During the interview, they warmly shared stories about the memorabilia that had passed between them. Generation 1 Pat provided an overview of her life and commented on how the growing up years of her grandchildren were so different to hers. I was born in Preston… [My parents] wanted us to have a good education which we were very fortunate to have… I was working as a receptionist at a hotel… I was not happy with the work… My mother suggested that I go and do the course (podiatry like her two older sisters) which I did… Then I was introduced to my lovely husband; he was Scottish, couldn’t understand a darn thing he was talking about. I thought he was the ant’s pants…

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From then on, we reared a family. We built a house. He died about 17 years ago. (Interview 1995, aged 64)

Pat in between interviews shifted from the family home and into a ‘lovely unit’ where she’s very happy. Well I’ve moved… I’ve got a lovely unit and I’m very happy there… I’m healthy. Yeah, you have your few bits and pieces but that’s okay… I’ve got seven grandchildren. They’re all grown up… and studying… Things are different now…Well, I do a lot of thinking… I think a lot has changed. How can I put it? I think they’re taught differently these days. I mean of course we always had the nuns and they were wonderful creatures and okay we might have had to learn things firmly… (Interview 2016, aged 85)

Pat enjoys the company of her children and grandchildren. Generation 2 Mary spoke of her religious values. I’m single… not married, not in a relationship. I do not visit the church on a regular basis. I go on special occasions like weddings, christenings, Christmas but that would be the only time that I frequent the church. As far as my religion I would classify myself as a religious person but only on the values that I’ve got in (terms of) my own life at the moment. As far as a Catholic, I have lots of good memories as a child growing up at school; the special occasions that we had. (Interview 1995, aged 36)

Mary described how her life had changed in the 20 years between interviews: After 13 years I left my employment when I got married and went to live in the country. I have since re-joined (that same employment) and moved back to Melbourne as now I’m not married… Other than that, single, happy, new property, new house. (Interview 2016, aged 57)

Mary noted how she has a great group of friends. Fiona talked about marriage, children and the mother–daughter relationship. I got married five years ago to a non-Catholic… He was actively involved in the (Presbyterian) church, but his family are not practicing Presbyterians. We both decided – well, really there was no decision – it was just we are getting married in the Catholic church… I’m a qualified primary school teacher and did my study at a Catholic college… I was teaching for six years and then had a baby. (Interview 1995, aged 29)

Fiona commented further on her familial relationships. In the last 20 years I have had another baby and that’s Olivia who is present with us here today. (Our son is) 22 now and he’s working… I don’t do as much teaching as I used to, but I still enjoy it… And probably too, there’s things as mothers and daughters that we talk about openly to each other that probably years ago (we didn’t). (Interview 2016, aged 50)

Fiona commented on how amazing her Mum Pat is.

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Generation 3 (2016) Fiona’s daughter Oliva went to the same secondary school as her Mum and now attends a Catholic higher education institution. I went to Star of the Sea (like my Mum) and I’m now at Australian Catholic University [ACU] doing speech pathology. I’m only first year. I loved school. I was one of those students that just really loved it. I don’t know whether that came from having a teacher as a mum, but it was always a really positive environment to be in. (Interview 2016, aged 19)

Olivia is someone who loves being around people.

Family E In 1995, I had a conversation with Francis and her twin daughters Anne and Helen at Francis’ home. Anne and Helen, who are twins, were a year behind me at school. Twenty years on, early one morning in February 2016, we continued our conversation and Helen’s daughter, Emily joined us. We were at Helen’s home. Generation 1 Francis shared her love of family and work. I worked as a therapy radiographer at the Peter McCallum clinic until after I was married when I quickly produced twin girls… About two years later I had a baby boy and another two years later I had another baby boy. (Interview 1995, aged 58)

Francis commented one how life had changed in the 20 years between interviews. My life has, changed a lot family-wise… we really enjoy the grandchildren. We go to South Gippsland a lot more (where my daughter lives). Twenty years ago, I would’ve just been still working. I think I retired in 1999. I really enjoyed working, I loved it, I loved the whole atmosphere of the school (I worked at) …. I took it into my own head that I was getting old, so I should retire but then for ages I thought ‘Why did I do that?’ (Interview 2016, aged 79)

Generation 2 Anne talked about the impact of a Catholic education. I’m the elder of twins by nine minutes. I went to a Catholic primary school, a Catholic secondary school and a Catholic teacher’s college. But I feel that I must have had my ears closed most of the time because I don’t know that I learnt a great deal about Catholicism. But I certainly had a good time at the various institutions. (Interview 1995, aged 35)

In the second phase interview, Anne spoke of the importance of family and friends in her life. I’ve been tucked away in South Gippsland for the last 20 years and working on and off at the same school …I have two sons. I probably had both those sons I think when we last spoke. They were young, they were under five. The people that I mix with now are my support people I suppose, my friends, people I met when the boys were young. I met them through baby massage and through the CWA sewing craft class. Also, I’ve been supported by my husband over those years to do some further study. I’ve had a few adventures, travel

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times. I’ve developed an interest in special education particularly students with learning difficulties. (Interview 2015, aged 55)

Anne mentioned that she is spiritual in that she is open to other people’s belief systems. Helen shared her memories of growing up Catholic. My memories of growing up as a Catholic are fairly positive, growing up in a family where it wasn’t pushed but it was done in a very subtle way and as mum has already mentioned her aunt had a very big influence on our lives as well. As she didn’t have any children of her own she looked upon it that we were her grandchildren. And grandparents as well, mum’s parents and my father’s mother, my grandmother who was a convert wasn’t she, she converted. She was very Catholic in her outlook on life. (Interview 1995, aged 35)

Helen talked about continuities in her life in the years between interviews. So, life has not changed dramatically but for the best, for the better. I’ve since had two children and I’ve been working. I was working four days a week I think when we last met and I’ve gone down days since then. I’ve always just done casual employment in nursing… I see myself as a Christian. (Interview 2015, aged 55)

Helen currently lives in the United States with her husband. Generation 3 Helen’s daughter Emily spoke of the importance of school friends in her life. I went to a local government primary school and then I also went to Star of the Sea up until year 12. Now I’m studying paramedicine at the Australian Catholic University… In terms of what I’m learning at university and what I learnt at school it’s very similar…. I’m still friends with everyone that I was friends with at school. I don’t go to university with any of them but we’re all still in touch… play a lot of sport and I still do things here and there with friends from school. (Interview 2016, aged 19)

Emily noted that religious practices are still part of her routine.

Family F In January 1995, I met with Maria and her twin daughters Joan and Adelaine to talk about schooldays and family life growing up Catholic. At that stage, both Joan and Adelaine had young children. Generation 1 Maria was raised Anglican but became a Catholic when she married. I’ve been married for nearly 40 years. I'm a lapsed Anglican I suppose if there is such a thing. However, my husband was fairly sure of his Catholic ideas and just as I was sure of the Anglican ones. I had two sons first, then twin daughters and then two other daughters.

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I was the middle child in my family growing up in Western Australia in a very strong Anglican environment… I’ve been employed until last year [as a nurse]. (Interview 1995, aged 61)

Generation 2 Joan, a twin, commented on her conservative positioning in society. I’m the older twin… I remember my childhood as very happy. I think I cruised through most things in life… I enjoyed school very much because I think it came easily to me. I liked the way that I went to a Catholic school and I don’t know what it would have been like had I not gone to a Catholic school or had gone to a co-ed school… I’ve turned out to be a model of society, just slotted into a non-radical position which frustrates me no end. (Interview 1995, aged 35)

Joan and I chatted over the phone about what had happened over the past 20 years. I have four almost grown-up children. I have not been in paid employment for a long time, mainly because I have a daughter who’s turning 21 and she has Downs Syndrome, and she has a lot of special needs… I’ve got a group of women who all have children with Downs Syndrome and that is a very big strong network for me. I met them when my daughter was less than one in an early intervention program. (Interview 2016, aged 57)

Joan spoke of her love of travelling with her family. Adelaine the second twin has two childrens. I did an apprenticeship as a cook which I started when I was 15… It totally amazed me when I started going to work with people who weren't religious at all, I’ve got a daughter myself and I’m sending her to a Catholic school… most of my contemporaries are sending their children to Catholic primary schools, they want them to follow a tradition. (Interview 1995, aged 35)

Family G In 1995, I visited Meg at her home, and we talked about growing up Catholic and the mother–daughter relationship. A few months later, Trish who was living in South Gippsland tape-recorded responses to the first set of interview questions and posted them to me. She decided to be interviewed separately from her mother. In 2016, Trish was living on the north coast of New South Wales. Trish and Rosie, her daughter participated in a Skype interview. In early 2018, I visited them in NSW to continue the conversation. Generation 1 Meg grew up in East Gippsland in a small country town. I’ve been married since 1942. I was married during the war. My husband… was on his way through to New Guinea so we got married in St Patrick’s Cathedral… During the time (he was home from New Guinea) we got a chance to buy the house which we still live in… I’ve had four children… the eldest is a Presentation nun. (Interview 1995, aged 76)

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Meg died in 2001 and is remembered for the solace she found in praying to Mary, the mother of Jesus. Generation 2 Trish talked about her early years and the changes she has experienced in her working life: I was quite a bit younger (than my siblings) and always felt quite a bit younger than everyone else in the family… I taught for over ten years (mainly in a rural area) and then the government offered a redundancy package… I liked teaching, but I left it. So, since I’ve stopped teaching… I’ve started up a very small lawn-mowing and gardening business… I’m 35 and not yet married… I’ll see what happens in the future. (Interview 1995, aged 35 years)

Trish spoke of her move to a seaside village in the Northern Rivers of New South Wales: Now I live in … New South Wales with my husband, my daughter and my son… I got married, must be 19 years ago. So that was a big change, and then I had two babies pretty soon after that. For most of the time I was a stay at home mum with my children. That was really until my husband wanted to move to New South Wales, and he bought a … business that we could work in together, so I started working with him on that. He has since sold that, and I'm returning to casual teaching which was my original profession. (Interview 2016, aged 56)

Trish in both interviews had strong memories of her devout Catholic upbringing. Generation 3 Rosie was completing secondary school at the time of the interview: I’m in year 12, my last year. It’s pretty stressful. I find it (school) enjoyable most of the time because I get along with most people at school and the teachers and everyone, and I do pretty well in school… It’s a Catholic school… I know I’m a Catholic … but I’m not like a big Catholic. (Interview 2016, aged 18)

Rosie is now studying teacher education at a rural university in New South Wales.

Family H Nadia and her husband in retirement moved to a coastal area outside of Melbourne. In December 1994, she was interviewed with her daughters Pam and Cilla. Some years later, Cilla shifted to the same coastal area and in 2016 was re-interviewed with her sister Pam linking in via skype. Later in 2016, Pam and Cilla’s niece was interviewed at her workplace at a National Park on the southernmost part of the Australian mainland.

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Generation 1 Nadia spoke of the many roles she has had throughout her life: I’ve been a house-wife, mother (of five daughters) and worker up until two years ago, a full-time worker. I’m now retired and filling my life with all sorts of things I haven’t been able to do before… and trying to make a retirement home which has been a great trauma. (Interview 1994, aged 69)

Sadly, Nadia passed away in July of 2018 during the final stages of the writing of this book. Nadia is remembered for her love of adventure and the environment. She passed this love onto her daughters and grandchildren. Generation 2 Pam has taught in a range of remote and rural areas: I’m first in the family…I’m nearly 40 (laughs)… We were made to go to confession every week at school. I can’t believe that people think that kids are sinners… I teach adult Aboriginal people as part of an Aboriginal teacher adult education program and I live in one of the north of South Australia. (Interview 1994, aged 39)

Pam spoke of life in retirement: I retired from fulltime work two years ago, and I’ve been doing a little bit of teaching here and there… I’ve built a house (in a small coastal town). I enjoy my life here; I swim every day. I have a nice group of friends, although you can never remake the friendships that you've had for 40 years. (Interview 2016, aged 61)

Cilla is a graphic designer. She reflected on her Catholic upbringing: I stopped going to Mass… when mum and dad couldn’t tell me what to do anymore… Well, I didn’t like it. I hated mass. I hated confession. Mass was so boring. As for confession, I really hated that thing of making up sins. We kind of made-up a formula when making our confession… It’s a bit hard to say whether schooling would have been different if it had been at a non-Catholic school. But in retrospect it was probably really good going to a girl’s school as there is no competition with boys. (Interview 1994, aged 35)

Cilla still works as a freelance graphic designer The big thing is that about nine years ago we moved out of Melbourne, and that’s something I think I’ve wanted to do all my life. That was a really good thing to orchestrate; sell the house and move back here. In many ways, it’s like coming home. Melbourne always - felt like a place to stay, but not live. Whereas I feel like you can live a good life down here. I have taken up surfing. So that’s been a big focus in my life, just being able to learn that new sport and embrace it and that’s a big part of living down here. (Interview 2016, aged 57)

Cilla, following in her mother’s footsteps has a passion for the environment. Generation 3 (2016) Niece of Pam and Cilla Debra went to boarding school in India for a period of time with Anne (the researcher’s) nieces Melissa, Neera and Claire. During the time of the interview, she was working and living in a National Park area of Victoria:

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I went to boarding school in India for maybe four years. It’s an international boarding school and then I came back to Australia and went to an all girls’ school for three years and then a private school…I don’t have a certain religion… At this stage I have no idea what I want to believe or not… I’m a firefighter over summer. So, I work six months a year and six months off. (Interview 2016, aged 29)

Debra is currently travelling overseas.

Family I Peg and two of her four daughters Kate and Fleur were interviewed at the family home in 1995. In the autumn of 2016, we reconvened at Fleur’s home and Kate’s daughter Lucy and Fleur’s daughter Genevieve joined us. Generation 1 Peg was raised Catholic. Between interviews she became a widow and moved to an apartment and took up a range of activities. I’m the only daughter of some country people from the Upper Murray region of Victoria… I became a dental nurse… I was a very strict Anglican… and I really took I suppose three years to decide that I’d marry (my husband – a Catholic) … After we were married we came here to this house and twelve months almost to the day my eldest daughter arrived. And then (another) came along and it just went on and on… but I’m happy. We have six children. (Interview 1995, aged 64)

In the second interview Peg described some of the activities she had taken up in recent years. I live in an apartment, which is very close to all sorts of shops and things. I try to keep as busy as I can. I go to two U3A classes a week. I’m doing a biology course and a greeting card making course. I’ve done Italian for quite a few years. I go to exercise class once a week. I cook every day for myself. I love cooking – not like a lot of people who say they can’t be bothered cooking. (Interview 2016, aged 85)

Peg passed away in December 2017 during the writing of the book. Peg is remembered for the deep love she had for her family. Generation 2 Kate when interviewed the first time had an 8-week-old baby girl named Lucy. I’m married, and I have two children a boy… and a girl Lucy. I married three years ago… Unlike mum I don’t seem to cope as well with my children as she coped with hers… I guess I can appreciate a lot of how it must have been for mum particularly with no family in Melbourne… How good it is to have a mother to ring up or who rings you up daily, who you can talk to. It must have been really hard to not have a mother that you can talk to at those times. And I suppose in some ways I’ve even got closer to you mum. (Interview 1995, aged 35)

The second interview took place when Lucy was 21 years of age. I still live at home with my two children – Lucy and her older brother who’s 23, and my husband…I work as a practice manager for two dental specialists … I’ve been there for

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approximately 17 or 18 years. I’m planning on retiring in the next two to three years, with the transition to retirement starting at Christmas time. (Interview 2016, 56 years)

Kate is planning a five-month trip overseas with her husband to celebrate her 60th birthday. Fleur reminisced about her growing up years. Well, I’m number five child. I have very good memories of a happy childhood. I particularly remember the holidays…we’d have a lot of fun down at the beach. I think also we were very lucky to have had the opportunity to go to the school that we went to… After school, I did a few different things. I did a secretarial course…(I) would take off and do a bit of travelling and come back and work… Then when I returned the last time I decided it was time to do something different and followed in my sister’s foot-steps and went and did a recreation course. (Interview 1995, aged 31)

Fleur was raising three children and had retrained as a primary school teacher at the time of the second interview. I’ve got three children at home. Genevieve is the eldest – she’s 15 going on 16 – (a son who) is thirteen, and (another son who) is 11. I’m … divorced, so I live on my own, and the kids are with me mostly, although Genevieve is not with me all the time. I am a teacher. I work full-time in a primary school. I retrained about five years ago and did my Diploma of Education in primary education and work at a local Catholic primary school. (Interview 2016, aged 52)

Fleur spoke of the strong bond she has with her sisters. Generation 3 (2016) Kate’s daughter Lucy spoke about how she realised she is capable of being a teacher. I went to Catholic secondary school, and I didn’t go to Catholic primary school… I generally liked being at a Catholic girls’ school. I’m getting towards the end of my (teaching) degree… I’ve realised that I could be a teacher and that I do have potential to be a teacher. I do enjoy it… (I hope to) do a bit of travelling and experience the world. (Interview 2016, aged 21)

Fleur’s daughter Genevieve talked about the religious education activities she was involved in at Catholic secondary school. I’m at a (Catholic girls’) college. I’m the oldest of three children. I’m outgoing. I try to study hard…We’ve just finished doing the Eucharist which we had to do a project on…It’s part of the Mass where you receive the body and blood of Christ through the form of bread and wine. We do (social issues) in another subject in ‘Bridges’… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s a series of four minor subjects; Bridges to Country, Bridges to Change, Bridges to City and Bridges to Community and then we do community service. (Interview 2016, aged 15)

Genevieve is now in her senior secondary schooling years and working part time.

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Family J Both interviews with Audrey and Andrea took place at Audrey’s home. Many momentous events had taken place in these women’s lives in between interviews including the death of Audrey’s husband. Generation 1 Audrey talked about getting married and having children. Well, I’m in the 60 + bracket, that’s what they call it; specifically, I’m 64… I married and of course found myself with a large family very quickly (six children) … I think becoming a Catholic was really not so much a personal thing at that stage (when I married) as it was that I felt I should for a marriage and that was that. (Interview1995, aged 64)

Audrey described a number of significant changes that happened in her life between interviews. My circumstances have changed considerably seeing my husband died it will be three years ago this November, but we’ve lived here for about 15 years, quite a long time. He originally lived in Brighton by the beach and always wanted to come back, so we were fortunate enough to find this when all the family had moved out. It’s just small but very comfortable or it was for the two of us until he took ill and he was ill for some years… We’ve redecorated this place and I feel now that it's my home. (Interview 2016, aged 85)

Audrey loves to have all her children and grandchildren around her. Generation 2 Andrea commented on the contradictions of growing up Catholic. I was fifth of six children, four boys, one girl … I no longer go to Mass, but a Catholic education had a big influence over me… My memories of growing up Catholic are the nuns who scared me and if I think about what they tried to teach me I now think it’s quite cruel. Things like you’ll go to hell if you don’t do this and that idea of punishment and you’re born with sin. But as a child growing up it was a great atmosphere because I had a lot of friends. I guess they were all Catholic and that was a shock when I left the Catholic education system and went to university. There were a lot of people out there who weren’t Catholic and looked at us differently. (Interview 1995, 37 years)

Andrea spoke of changes in the extended family during the past 20 years. And in the last 20 years it’s just been work and quite a lot of travel. Probably a bit of a difference is I now use two crutches; … so that’s been a change but a gradual change. The other probably big difference with family is that all my nieces and nephews are now so much older, and we also have some new nieces and nephews and the new generation starting; mum’s great granddaughter. (Interview 2016, aged 56)

Andrea works in palliative care and enjoys the company of her Tibetan Mastiff dog.

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Family K In 1995, Agatha and her three daughters were interviewed at the family home. Many poignant memories were shared of growing up Catholic. The family did not participate in the second phase of interviewing but still wished to be part of the book project. Generation 1 Agatha described her early years. I was one of five children, I was in the middle and born into a pretty strong Catholic back-ground… I was the shy one of the family… not very self-assertive.… I had a very normal childhood, happy childhood…I suppose Presentation nuns had quite an impact on my life although my parents would have had a greater influence on my life… When I left school, Dad suggested I do a course at Burroughs business college which I quite enjoyed. I got a job through that college. I worked for the Board of Works and I was there for eleven years. I met my husband when I was 21 on a picnic. Seven years later he asked me out, he thought I was going steady with another guy at the time. (Interview 1995, aged 66)

Agatha passed away in 2011. She is remembered for her deep faith which was shown in her love for reciting the rosary. Generation 2 Marie shared the story of how she told her mother she no longer went to mass. I think particularly in those younger years when you start growing up, you’re open to a lot more influence and you can be swayed a lot more easily. That’s why I think a Catholic school is preferable not so much because of the Catholic aspect of it but because of the Christian environment and the sense of being a good person is really important… I don’t know if I imagined it, I might need to be reminded, I remember when I said [to my mother] I’m not going to mass… and you said, ‘I’ve failed as a Catholic parent’. (Interview 1995, aged 36)

Marie has two childrens—a daughter and a son. Gaye noted how religious education shifted focus over the years. I’m number three in the family, the third one. What are my memories, very much like you had really (to Marie – her sister). I remember my first communion and all the fuss over that. I remember Marie told me I looked beautiful… I taught religious education in year seven at a Catholic secondary college and the way it was taught was quite different to what we were taught. It’s obviously good Christian ethics, growing up with people. I think the nuns that we had in our day saw God far more as a fearful type of person. Not fearful that’s not the word but he wasn’t that loving. (Interview 1995, aged 33)

Gaye lives in Melbourne and is very close to her sisters. Cinti reflected on how she began to think differently when she completed her studies at Catholic secondary school and undertook tertiary studies at a non-religious institution:

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That sense of belonging and that unity. I look back on now. I really wonder what single-sex education was about. Probably once I’d left Star, where I’d been really sheltered because I’d only mixed with Star girls and probably Xavier boys in forms five and six… Then I went to tertiary studies and that was where I started really thinking because that was like a whole new world. I did a Bachelor of Arts and it really hit me so much. (Interview 1995, aged 31)

Cinti enjoys life with her family.

Conclusion The stories and photographs exemplify slippage between chronological age and roles: mother/daughter/grandmother. One of the ways in which the photos and stories connect generations of women is as daughters, as they represent the site of women who mother as still being locatable within the role of daughter. That is, the maternal lineage has no beginning and no end as women who mother are still positioned on this continuum as daughters (Lucas, 1998). While the biographies in this chapter are brief, it is hoped that the reader through these introductions, begins to gain insight into the multi-layered lives of these women. The situated, subjugated standpoints of these mothers and daughters offer a partial and context-specific perspective on growing up female and Catholic. The chapters in this book uncover part of the silenced feminine principles of these women, and the self-constructed practices by which they create a space to affirm the ‘maternal’ and the feminine’ within the confines of Catholicism. This collation of stories represents the ‘well-lived’ lives of an ordinary yet extraordinary group of Catholic mothers and daughters.

References Hirsch, M. (1997). Family frames: Photography, narrative and postmemory. Cambridge & London: Harvard University Press. Keary, A. (2013). De/Composing Gran’s photo album. Cultural Studies, 27(6), 955–981. Lucas, R. (1998). Telling maternity: Mothers and daughters in recent women’s fiction. Australian Feminist Studies, 13(27), 35–46.

Appendix B: Methodology

To provide a partial understanding of the Catholic mother–daughter relationship an autobiographical maternal genealogical study was undertaken that encapsulated two phases of interviews 20 years apart. This book is the product of this qualitative longitudinal study and tells the story of myself, my friends, my sisters and cousins and our mothers. The book shapes a renewed understanding of Catholic women’s lives and provides powerful insights into how Catholicism was experienced and infused the domestic as well as public spheres of these women’s lives.

The Retold Story There are a range of approaches in qualitative longitudinal research to reuse and recontextualisation of interview data. Thomson (2014) reasons that there is no need to abandon what has gone before in preference to the present. She suggests that the circumstances in which data is produced—the research interview, the conceptual frameworks, the methods, the tools employed, the auto/biography of the researcher— are ‘encoded’ in the data and can be re-performed and reintroduced under additional analysis conditions. Philosophical concerns arise for the researcher returning to participants. These issues pivot on wider questions of notions of time and how the time interval modifies previous understandings—both by interviewees and by the researcher—of narratives and data (Miller, 2015). These questions result in probing what ‘the data’ is comprised of, in addition to how new considerations and understandings by interviewees, enabled by the passing of time, augment, amend and modify previous renditions of personal experience. To be considered is earlier analysis and conceptualisation. The passing of time in this study offered fresh opportunities for secondary examination of previous interview data together with primary analysis of the new data. These concurrent activities fused and blurred what would be seen as discrete data analysis phases in other research methods. © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. Keary, Education, Work and Catholic Life, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-8989-4

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The amalgamation of interviews gives length and distance to insights about the grand/mother-daughter relationship as it is experienced and lived. The second phase of interviews provided moments of reflection that may entail ‘setting the record straight’. Similarly, to Hanisch (1969) and Miller (2015) the interviews, especially in the second phase were commented on by some interviewees in terms of their ‘therapeutic’ nature. The intertwined stories about lived experiences, told at times in contradictory and edited ways, and from various perspectives are tales of mother-daughter relationships that elucidate subjectivity as dynamic and reflexive. They are unfolding, personal tales that disclose fragile selves in which central and familiar features of subjectivity are edited and re-told over time (Thomson, 2009). The stories have twists and turns, are messy and negotiated. As claimed in the initial study a strength, but also a limitation is that some of the mother–daughter stories were told but many stories have been left unstated or revealed in self-edited states. As the author of the text, I have chosen to include or exclude material based on its usefulness to the theoretical analysis of the study. This feminist study does not purport to tell the whole, complete, ‘real’ story but rather offers an understanding of the ‘partial truths’ and perspectived local and contextual knowledge of women (Stacey, 1988). Along with Whitford (1994), my intention is that the reader engages with the text. This engagement implies that readers construct their own subtext that at strategic and relevant moments can shift from a constructionist to an essentialist reading of ‘woman’. The aim of engagement with the text is that there can momentarily be a conceptual emergence of women’s historical lived-material conditions. Key issues for this type of study are consent, confidentiality, anonymity and the misrepresentation of lived experiences through repeated interview phases. The second phase of the research underwent a Monash University Human Ethics review. The notion of anonymity can be problematic in auto/biographical research and many research participants are identified as they wanted their real names to be used while others chose pseudonyms in an attempt to maintain anonymity. In both phases of the study, the interviews were informal and took a conversational mode. For the second phase, the three generations were interviewed together when possible but due to other commitments and the size of the interview group at times small group interviews were conducted. Most interviews were conducted face to face. In the first phase of the study, a daughter requested to be interviewed separately from her mother, so she could speak more openly. Most interviews were conducted face to face but in phase one, the questions were mailed to one research participant as she lived in a rural area. She audio-taped her responses and mailed the tape to the researcher. My mother, three sisters and myself took part in a two-hour teleconference in 1995. Unfortunately, the teleconference failed to be taped by the telecommunications company. However, this conversation informed the analysis. Some interviewees in phase two participated via phone and online platforms. The interviews were audio-recorded. They were 30–90 min in duration. At times, repeat interviews and consultation occurred to clarify and elucidate interview data.

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Transcripts of all interviews were returned to participants for perusal and editorial consideration. I was available personally, via email, phone or Skype to discuss interviews with the girls and the women. The daughter and mother who were interviewed separately shared their transcripts with each other. In phase one of the study, one member of Generation 1 edited the transcript for grammatical correctness and another Generation 1 participant edited out a small section of the content. Otherwise, the interview transcripts have remained intact. A number of participants read draft chapters and provided feedback about the interpretation of transcripts. Thematisation occurred at the stage where indicative interview questions were formulated and when conceptual clarification of the themes were examined. The thematic focus of the study shaped the subject matter of the interview questions and influenced what themes took centre stage and what remained in the background. The interviewees also influenced what was and was not discussed in detail. Meanings and patterns emerged from multiple readings and analysis of the data with conceptually informed interpretations (Brinkmann & Kvale, 2015). Interview transcripts have been condensed and edited for readability and as the auto/biographical researcher I have contextualised, and embroidered stories based on my own memories of events. Despite this, the transcript excerpts represent the words of the girls and women. It is acknowledged that the reader may offer other interpretations to that of the authors in their reading of these interview transcript excerpts. Attrition, the drop-out of research participants in various phases of a study, is a feature of most qualitative longitudinal studies and is often accounted for in terms of practicalities and ways of overcoming attrition (Cordon & Millar, 2007). In this study, all original participants were retraceable but some participants from Generations 1 and 2 were contacted and for differing reasons chose not to participate in the second phase of the study. Longitudinal studies tend to be susceptible to attrition. Nevertheless, this study has remained robust and has taken on a new vitality with the introduction of Generation 3 research participants. A conventional discerning feature of QLR is the way in which temporality is calculated in the methodology making change a key aspect of the analysis (Thomson, Plumridge, & Holland, 2003). However, this study was not designed in its initial iteration as longitudinal research. Yet the notion of change and continuity was built into the original design in terms of inter-generational relationships and how these relationships impact on change and continuity across generations of mothers and daughters. That is, where do the psycho-social lives of mothers and daughters diverge? How is maternal continuity and discontinuity produced yet contested in the lived experiences of these women? (Author, 2011). The second phase of the study provides insights into the interaction between history, auto/biographies and ‘research time’ (McLeod & Thomson, 2009, p. 77). It is through the temporal aspects of longitudinal research that the nature of social change comes to light, the means and tactics employed by people to make and deal with change in their everyday, and how structural shifts shapes their lives. Through making time an integral aspect of analysis an increased understanding can be

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gleaned of how the personal and the social, agency and structure, the micro and macro intertwine and transfigure people’s lives (Neale & Flowerdew, 2003). Both phases of the research were grounded by a feminist stance because the research is for and about girls and women. Hirsch & Smith (2002) contend that ‘feminist scholarship has been driven by the desire to redefine culture from the perspective of women through the retrieval and inclusion of women’s work, stories and artefacts’ (p. 30). This is not to say that feminist scholarship can be summarised in a tidy way or drawn together with a common thread. It is diverse and grounded by a range of fields of inquiry including history, sociology, cultural studies and psychoanalysis. Any common thread is indistinguishable, tidiness is obscure, and this kind of scholarship extends flexibly in numerous irregular ways simultaneously (Mosmann & Rademaker, 2015). The research was open-ended and intentional and lent itself to a dynamic and fluid process. A multi-methodological was employed that aimed to disrupt the linear and logocentric traditional academic genre. Semi-structured interviews, photographs, memories and cultural artefacts such as diaries, letters and objects passed between mothers and daughters constituted the data for analysis. The intent of the research was to tell partial stories and histories which express attitudes, biases, nuances and personal viewpoints.

The Conundrum of Family Interviews QLR interviews provide occasions for research participants, and in this case also, the interviewer to reflect on and recollect aspects of their lives over time. Grandmothers, mothers, daughters, sisters, cousins and friends were given the opportunity to discuss their part in dynamic familial relationships. Bornat & Bythewy (2012), in relation to their own study on inter-generational relationships note that ‘By inviting people to talk about their past lives, we were also expecting to hear accounts that contextualised current situations: they would present family life within life trajectories, the ageing process, the changing times and events that the interviewees had lived through’ (p. 292). Analysing interviews conducted across 20 years can highlight, sanction or disturb the original and provisional interpretations, draw attention to recurrent themes and motifs in interviewees’ stories in addition to modifications and variations, suggested continuities or unsettling patterns in emotional and social resources, in yearnings and dispositions and provide an appreciation of how identities are being moulded and constructed. This permits identity to be examined as a process and not just as a cache for one-off viewpoints and transcript excerpts (Thomson & Holland, 2003). In terms of my own maternal family, across the two phases of interviewing, family stories were left untold, yet at other times revealed and with a degree of openness. Perhaps, the make up of the interview group influenced what was revealed or not revealed; maybe it was the particular period in our lives that permitted or did not permit a more emotive stance to be conveyed.

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QLR studies explore social change or processes. Returning to the research scene requires reflexive interpretations that analyse the recursive elements of sociology as well as the continual performance of social life. Going back entails knowing that the social world is dynamic and the researcher’s and research participants’ perspectives and willingness to talk will be different. O’Reilly (2012) sums it up by saying ‘Constant return visits thus enable a longitudinal and reflexive perspective—a focus on time, change and interactive process that involves the researcher in the analysis of interaction’ (p. 532). The fragility yet resilience associated with QLR came through in the interviews I conducted with my own mother, sisters and niece. It appears that the ‘when’ of what is permissible to say featured as a characteristic of our interviews together. Miller (2015) describes this characteristic and the precariousness of interviewing as the: ‘“tenuousness” of selves and selfhood, the ways in which powerful discourses shape what is felt to be permissible to say (when) and what remains unspoken, such that earlier theorisations can be confirmed, re-evaluated and refined’ (p. 300). In this QLR study, the accrual and intertwining of personal and relational experiences is a political act. Carol Hanisch (2006) in an article that provides the background to her original paper contends that revealing a personal struggle can be seen as ‘navel-gazing’ and ‘personal therapy’ nevertheless ‘individual struggle does sometimes get us some things’ and ‘we need to always be pushing the envelope’ (p. 2). Combining those individual struggles and forming a women’s movement such as the one she was involved in during the 60s and 70s for making the personal political has stood ‘the test of time and experience’ (p. 2). It is suggested that being political is about having knowledge and a critical voice. The data collected in this research is a form of knowledge about women’s perceptions and memories of experiences. By collating and collecting these memories, and positioning them in a conceptual analysis of social, gendered and religious cultures of the past and present they become public ‘cultural memories’. These cultural memories have been tested in real life and like the interview with my sisters and niece deliver surprises of un/desirable kinds. Hanisch makes connections between personal and political struggles and theory and writes that: Political struggle or debate is the key to good political theory. A theory is just a bunch of words – sometimes interesting to think about, but just words, nevertheless – until it is tested in real life. Many a theory has delivered surprises, both positive and negative, when an attempt has been made to put it into practice (p. 2).

The issue with making the personal political in a QLR forum is that it is difficult to know when to stop. In this instance, I have never left the social world of many of the research participants and ‘when to stop’ is a nebulous question while researching from an auto/biographical feminist stance. Yet, I know the conversation does and will continue in a range of ways.

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References Blake, L. (2015), Chasing Eliza Miles: An archive story. Lillith: A Feminist History Journal, 21, 78. Bornat, J., & Bytheway, B. (2012). Working with different temporalities: Archived life history interviews and diaries. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 15(4), 291–299. Brinkmann, S., & Kvale, S. (2015). Interviews: Learning the craft of qualitative research interviewing. Aalborg. Retrieved from January 24, 2015. Corden, A., & Millar, J. (2007). Time and change: A review of the qualitative longitudinal research literature for social policy. Social Policy & Society, 6(4), 583–592. Hanisch, C. (2006). Introduction. Available at: http://www.carolhanisch.org/CHwritings/PIP.html. Hirsch, M., & Smith, V. (2002). Feminism and cultural memory: An introduction (pp. 1–19). Keary, A. (2011). Catholic girls: The mother–daughter nexus. Gender and Education, 23(6), 695–709 McLeod, J., & Thomson, R. (2009). Researching social change. London: Sage. Miller, T. (2015). Going back: ‘Stalking’, talking and researcher responsibilities in qualitative longitudinal research. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 18(3), 293–305. Modjeska, D. (1990). Poppy. Ringwood, Victoria: Penguin. Mosmann, P., & Rademaker, L. (2015). Imagining futures for feminist history. Lillith: A Feminist History Journal, 21, 3–5. Neale, B., & Flowerdew, J. (2003). Time, texture and childhood: The contours of longitudinal qualitative research. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 6(3), 189–199. Passerini, L. (2003). Memories between silence and oblivion. In: K. Hodgkin, & S. Radsone (Eds.), Contested pasts: The politics of memory (pp. 238–254). Routledge. O'Reilly, K. (2012). Ethnographic returning qualitative longitudinal research and reflexive analysis of social practice. The Sociological Review, 60(3), 518–536. Rose, N. (2014). From risk to resilience: Responsible citizens for uncertain times. Public Lecture. Ian Potter Auditorium, Kenneth Myer Building, Royal Park, Parkville, Australia. Stacey, J. (1988). Can there be a feminist ethnography? Women's Studies International Forum, 11(1), 21–27. Thomson, R. (2014). Generational research: Between historical and sociological imaginations. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 17(2), 147–156. https://doi.org/10. 1080/13645579.2014.892659. Thomson, R. (2009). Unfolding lives: Youth, gender and change. Bristol, UK: Policy Press. Thomson, R., & Holland, J. (2003). Hindsight, foresight and insight: The challenges of longitudinal qualitative research. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 6(3), 233–244. Thomson, R., Plumridge, L., & Holland, J. (2003). Editorial: Longitudinal qualitative research: A developing methodology. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 6(3), 185–187. Weeks, J. (2007). The world we have won: The remaking of erotic and intimate lives. London: Routledge. Whitford, M. (1994). Reading Irigaray in the nineties. In C. Burke, N. Schor, & M. Whitford (Eds.), Engaging with Irigaray: Feminist philosophies and modern European thought (pp. 15–33). New York: Columbia University Press.

Index

A Agency, 100 Ambition, 106, 137 Apprenticeship, 100 Aunties, 102 Australian Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, 163 Auto/biographer, 163 Auto/biographical, 24 Auto/biographical stories, 12 B Belief systems, 7 Belonging, 64 C Career ambitions, 105 Career aspirations, 95, 104 Career pathways, 119 Careers, 101 Caregiving, 88 Case histories, 7, 152, 154 Casualised workforce, 106 Catholic belief system, 85, 128 Catholic church, 169, 171 Catholic clergy, 164, 169 Catholic doctrine, 205 Catholic education, 17, 57, 71, 124, 202 Catholic faith, 159 Catholic families, 188 Catholic girlhood, 64, 193 Catholic girls, 87 Catholic girls secondary college, 127 Catholic histories, 128

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. Keary, Education, Work and Catholic Life, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-8989-4

Catholic institutions, 127 Catholicism, 9 Catholic mother–daughter, 3 Catholic schooling, 6, 15, 71 Catholic schools, 61 Catholic selves, 24 Catholic teacher training, 85 Catholic teachings, 59 Catholic theology, 65 Catholic tradition, 194 Catholic upbringing, 23, 83, 125, 202 Change and continuity, 90 Children of Mary, 61 Child sexual abuse, 164 Conceptual lenses, 15 Continuity, 119 Continuity and change, 18 Contraception, 99 Convent, 78 Corporeal things, 190 Critical moments, 154, 155, 161 Cultural artefacts, 198 Cultural change, 8 Cultural history, 52 Cultural identity, 182 Cultural memory, 7, 203 Cultural studies, 4, 182 Culture, 181 Culture and religion, 19 D Desires, 157 Diary, 161 Dreams, 137

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246 E Early twentieth century, 52 Education and training, 75 Education qualifications, 100 Eligious identification, 126 Employment, 88 Employment opportunities, 137 Ethical issues, 127 Ethic of work, 128 Ethics, 63, 71, 160 Everyday life, 152 Everyday practices, 9 Examen prayer, 67 Extended family, 116 F Faith, 15, 161 Familial relationships, 156 Family, 88 Family caring, 113 Family histories, 138 Family home, 31 Family photograph, 55 Female friendships, 52 Female relations, 205 Female rituals, 193 Feminism, 5 Feminist historical narrative, 24 Feminist identity, 190 Feminist methods, 12 Feminist movement, 120 Feminist perspectives, 15 Feminist politics, 190 Feminist scholarship, 4, 83 Feminist space, 185 Feminist theology, 15 Financial independence, 149 Financial security, 137 First holy communion, 65 Friendship, 34, 53, 143 Further study, 75, 140 G Gap year, 139 Garden, 31, 204 Gender, 6 Gender and mobility, 122 Gendered practices, 193 Gendered religious identity, 71 Gender politics, 167 Generation, 118 Generational transmission, 129 Geographic mobility, 100, 137

Index Girls’ education, 58 Granddaughters, 122 Growing up Catholic, 62 Guilt, 82 H Hierarchy of the church, 171 Higher education, 81 Holmes, 141 Hope, 10 Horizontal genealogies, 52 I Identity construction, 132 Imagined future, 157 Insider, 12 Intergenerational changes, 62 Intergenerational conversations, 4 Intergenerational experiences, 19 Intergenerational narratives, 23 Intergenerational relations, 128 Intergenerational relationships, 18 Intergenerational transmission, 132 Interpretation, 14 Irigaray, 5 J Journal entry, 141 K Knowledge and communicative things, 195 Kristeva, 64 Kuhn, 6 L Labour market, 79 Lay Catholics, 11 Letter, 145, 195 Lies, 163 Life course, 116, 139 Life journeys, 113, 137 Life stages, 129 Longitudinal, 15 Longitudinal intergenerational, 118 Longitudinal project, 201 M Marriage, 88 Mary MacKillop, 165 Maternal debt, 70 Maternal forebears, 155 Maternal genealogy, 17, 39, 55, 206 Maternal heritage, 55

Index Maternal history, 3, 42 Maternal identities, 156 Maternal labour, 15 Maternal lineage, 47, 55 Maternal memories, 5 Maternal past, 55 Maternity, 51, 70 Matrilineal genealogy, 3 Megan’s Law, 175 Memorabilia, 179, 185 Memories, 180 Memory-work, 24 Missionary, 144 Mobility, 149 Modesty, 82 Morality, 160 Morals, 71 Mother–daughter exchanges, 198 Mother–daughter relationship, 3, 99, 179 Mothering, 12 Mothers and daughters, 167 Multi-methodological, 5 Multi-methodological approach, 201 N Non-linear pathways, 75 Non-linear transitions, 113 O Oral history, 20, 39, 147 Outsider, 12 P Paedophilia, 173 Parental expectations, 124 Partial stories, 5 Part-time work, 87 Patriarchal order, 183 Patriarchy, 167 Pedagogical ideologies, 17 Personal, 3 Personal belief systems, 166 Personal memories, 5 Photographs, 202 Post-education, 95 Post-school life, 18, 75, 95, 129, 132 Post-school pathways, 137 Post-school plans, 140 Post-school study, 86, 88, 115 Power, 14 Prayer, 62 Private sphere, 41, 46 Psychosocial, 25

247 Q Qualitative longitudinal, 4 R Reflexive, 79, 140 Relational selves, 25 Relational sense of self, 152 Relationship with the Catholic church, 166 Religious conditions, 151 Religious doctrine, 59 Religious education, 70, 125 Religious gendered identity, 58 Religious identification, 9, 58 Religious identity, 7 Religious order, 78 Religious pedagogy, 59 Religious practices, 201 Religious principles, 61 Religious selves, 39 Religious statues, 205 Religious teachers, 147 Religious upbringing, 52 Religious vocation, 78 Responsibility, 83 Rich, 164 Rituals, 60, 193 Role-modelling, 128 Rosary, 186 S Sacraments, 71 School leavers, 87 School to work transitions, 131 School uniform, 59 Secondary school, 106 Secrets, 176 Secular, 128 Selfie photos, 26 Sense of identity, 42 Sense of self, 10, 128 Sexual abuse of children, 163 Silence, 7, 168 Sisterhood, 17 Sisters, 23, 102 Social action, 147 Social expectations, 95, 97 Socialization, 128 Social justice, 126 Social mobility, 83 Social positioning, 41 Socio-economic status, 102 Spatial identity, 179 Spiritual ideals, 71, 151

248 Spiritual identities, 70 Spirituality, 9, 161 Spiritual memorabilia, 185 Spiritual principles, 161 St. Anne and Mary, 180 Study pathway, 148 Subjective stories, 23 Subjectivity, 83 T Temporality, 25, 203 Tertiary education, 84 Tertiary study, 106 Training, 75, 88 Transitions, 18, 75, 88, 99 Transitions to work, 95 Transition to adulthood, 139 Transmission of attitudes, 128 Travel, 79, 140 U University, 81

Index V Values, 10, 71 Values education, 63 Vatican II, 57 Virgin Mary, 65 Volunteer work, 98, 122 W Woman’s life, 198 Women’s auto/biography, 23 Women’s history, 5, 64, 167, 206 Women’s lives, 15 Women’s stories, 202 Work, 75, 88 Working life, 95, 128, 130 Working-mother, 119 Work–life balance, 119 World-making things, 191 Y Youth Youth Youth Youth

employment, 84 pathways, 75 studies, 137 unemployment, 80