I was first introduced to feminist ideas when I met members of the Broadsheet Collective in the early 1970s. I became a subscriber, went monthly on a Saturday morning to their city office to help with stuffing the magazine into envelopes, and enjoyed the discussions that accompanied this.
Through the 1970s and 1980s I took various Women’s Studies courses through the Auckland WEA, some of which were led by Margot Roth. I was introduced to women authors I’d never heard of, such as Jane Mander, who wrote The Story of a New Zealand River and who had attended Onehunga Primary School where my daughters went, as I did for just one term.
In 1979 a friend asked me to go with her to the United Women’s Convention in Hamilton at Easter, but I declined because I thought that the family’s needs over a holiday weekend should come before mine (this was probably before I’d done assertiveness training). I had no such hesitation in attending Women’s Studies Association Conferences from 1985 to 1990, even co-facilitating a Women’s Spirituality workshop at one.
It wasn’t until 1982 that I joined a Consciousness Raising group. I saw it advertised and enjoyed meeting a diverse group of women and discussing all kinds of intimate subjects. I was surprised to find that two lesbians in the group were totally non-political. Previously I’d never knowingly met a lesbian who wasn’t politically active.
Feminism was an ideal counterpart to my involvement in Values/Green politics and my eventual engagement with Women’s Spirituality. It gave me identity and sisterhood and has remained an important integral part of my life.
As a young bride I’d taken my husband’s name without a second thought, but after twenty years of marriage I realised that I’d given up my birth name without considering what that meant in a patriarchal society, and I wanted to claim a name of my own. At that time I’d met only one woman who was married and didn’t use her husband’s name. I thought long and hard over what surname I wanted to use and was reluctant to return to my ‘maiden’ name as that favoured my father’s family over my mother’s. However the meaning of my Gardner family name appealed, and eventually persuaded me to make that choice.
Legally any woman is always entitled to use her birth surname (and children are entitled to use their mother’s name) but society is not always as welcoming. When I went to change the name on my bank account I was told I’d need to provide proof of separation. I stated that I was not separated and didn’t intend to be, and that was apparently something they hadn’t encountered before, that had to be checked with head office.
Over the years I took part in all kinds of demonstrations, for peace, a woman’s right to make decisions about her own body, take back the night, etc.
In 1989 we were settled in Christchurch and I decided to attempt some tertiary study. It was the Feminist Studies Department at the University of Canterbury that attracted me, and I enrolled in FMST101 Feminist Perspectives: The Re-presentation of Women, where I was introduced to women in all kinds of spheres many of whom I’d never heard of. I relished the lectures and discussions and managed to satisfactorily complete the assignments. An academic friend kindly critiqued my first essay (the first I’d written since leaving school) which enabled me to improve it before submitting. Our tutorial group included a woman with a nose stud, the first time I’d met one of these at close quarters, and I needed to carefully choose a seat where that wouldn’t distract me.
The following year I enrolled in a Stage Two course Women and Change where I was part of a group that researched and reported on why women leave traditional religions. I loved doing both these papers but did not choose to attempt any more University study. I’d proved what I wanted to, that I was capable of passing tertiary papers. Sadly the Feminist Studies Department at University of Canterbury has since disappeared, but some students still manage to incorporate feminism in their studies.
As I’m a woman I must be
a feminist – it’s plain to see