
Issue No 74		20 October 2000

LaborNET	Ask Neale	Tool of the Week

Women

Party Girl

'You can take the girl out of the Port, but you can't take the Port out of the girl' - Stephanie Key recounts her life as a feminist in a male bastion, the Transport Workers Union.

The thought of reporting life as a feminist in a blue-collar union dominated by men is a concept I've had to think about carefully. I come from a long line of hard-working men and women. Both my grandmothers worked for pay - one as a dressmaker and seamstress and the other as a children's nurse in an orphanage and eventually as a small businessperson. My mother has had a number of interesting jobs, from running businesses to social work. My father worked in a factory throughout my childhood and eventually went into the Commonwealth public service by topping the entrance exams.

Although I started working part time at 14, my first full-time job was just before my sixteenth birthday. I worked for a firm called Harris Scarfe Industrial, in the despatch office. So from an early age I got to know truck drivers and the sorts of pressures they suffer, not only on interstate jobs but also on local trips. Part of my job was to work out the different freight options for the various goods - flat steel to toilet systems! The other main task was to deal with complaints from customers, particularly those from the country.

In addition to working part time, I also went to Port Adelaide Girls Technical High School, which was considered to be a rough working-class school. Many of my fellow students were pregnant at 15 and spent their teens looking after siblings and their own children. Although I excelled in cooking, laundry, sport and drama, my grades in leaving were not too good. So I worked during the day and did a couple of fourth-year subjects at night school.

I was considered to be a promising worker at Harris Scarfe and a good shop steward. Even so I was not invited to do the industrial hardware course at night school. I was a female and there were no females doing the course - period. Outrage probably describes my feelings in response. It did spur me on to enrol for adult matriculation, however. My determination to enrol was sparked by my sense of outrage at the obvious gender inequalities creating obstacles for me in my working life. Around this time I had been sharing a house with my boyfriend, a politics student at university, and two other postgraduates. Two other things then happened, almost simultaneously, that had a huge impact on me. I received a copy of Simone De Beauvoir's The Second Sex and Germaine Greer's The Female Eunuch for my birthday. My mum also took me to a Women's Electoral Lobby meeting held at the Women's Liberation Building in the city. This was the beginning of my interest in organised politics - of both gender and class.

Reflections on working for the TWU

Nearly 20 years later I started working at the Transport Workers Union (TWU) as an industrial officer. The TWU head-hunted me to work as their industrial relations officer for South Australia and the Northern Territory. One of my credentials for the TWU job was that I had been a Port Tech Girl and brought up in the Port. I had the 'top' union industrial officer job and the TWU Secretary of the time said it was a bit of a coup for me to be working for them. Amazingly, the TWU job delegate from Harris Scarfe, Rocky, had retired from work and the delegate's position the week I started at the TWU. Rocky was delighted that I had started work at his union.

Working at the TWU made me realise how I had managed to attain middle-class achievements, aspirations and interests. Most of the university-educated officials were viewed in the union movement as yuppies and not entirely trustworthy. The major reason for this tension is the assumed class difference between people who can access higher education and those who can't. This has changed in recent times with the increasing need for 'in house' experts, especially lawyers. I had the experience of going to university, although I was the first person in the family to do so. Although it was difficult at the time, I also went through my tertiary education as an adult with other mature-age students. I'd been given the opportunity, thanks to the Whitlam Labor Government, to access the vast world of knowledge, debate and ideas. My colleagues seemed quite proud of me and often consulted me with regard to their children's and grandchildren's educational future.

'The sisters are watching you ...': language in the TWU

The TWU was real working-class territory; the language, the attitudes, the behaviours and the lifestyle of my union colleagues all brought me back to my background growing up in Port Adelaide. One of the first things that struck me coming to the TWU was the language used by the members and the officials. Most of the terminology I can't repeat - suffice to say the language was full of expletives, racist, homophobic and sexist colloquiums. In the beginning, the term 'luv' was a common form of address to me. It was a bit like being called 'comrade' - you don't have to remember the person's name. I decided to give a dispensation to members over 50 years of age and made my work colleagues address me as 'Steph' or 'comrade'.

Coming from the United Trades and Labour Council (UTLC), we'd been through the battles of using non-sexist and inclusive language. Most of the UTLC affiliates knew that the women staff would correct them if they dared to speak in a sexist manner. The game of trying to 'piss off' the women had long disappeared. 'The sisters are watching you ...' was a popular phrase amongst the female staff. This phrase even appeared as graffiti in the Trades Hall lift when it was suggested that the annual Mr Trades Hall quest needed to be rethought.

When I first became aware of the Mr Trades Hall quest, the Secretary of Actor's Equity and I were the only women in Trades Hall that weren't cleaners, clerical staff or bingo participants. All the industrial staff and secretaries of the Labor Party and the unions were men and eligible for the contest. My feelings on this topic were not entirely negative as it was great to see the union secretaries trying to get votes from the staff to win the coveted award. Valentine's Day was another event not to be missed at that workplace!

The issue of not swearing in front of me soon disappeared and gradually organisers agreed that they should use non-sexist language (at least while I or any of the other sisters were in earshot). A game then started where one of the organisers would ask me the non-sexist term for different things in an attempt to stump me; for example, the alternate title for fisherman or manhole or man-eater. I could handle the swearing so long as they used their own genitals as the swear word. This principle was adopted and became the informal policy of the branch.

One dispute really sticks in my mind when I reflect on this policy of 'using your own genitals'. It involved our members in the garbage industry who were on strike. The garbage was piling up and the public were very unsympathetic to our claim for health and safety improvements, including the prevention of needle stick injuries. Rubbish was dumped in the union office and the office staff abused by the depositors. Coincidentally, the television cameras were there to record the incident. We went to the Industrial Commission and the members were ordered back to work. The commissioner made it clear that if the members did not follow the order I, as the industrial officer conducting the case, the organiser and the yard delegates would be spending time in gaol. The thought of going to gaol caused great hilarity amongst the men as we walked out of the Commission. They said to me: 'At least we get to go to the same place. You'll be in the women's prison doing our laundry!' (In years gone by the women prisoners did the laundry for the male prisoners.) The next morning at 4am we met with the 200-odd members at the dump, the summer sun just rising on another stinking hot day, the aroma of three-week-old garbage hanging heavy in the air. The seagulls were squawking and the members, mostly 'runners', were there in their singlets, short, short shorts, sport shoes, wrap-around mirror sunglasses and smoking Holiday cigarettes and the odd joint. It was an amazing scene; the other organiser and I seemed to be the only people fully dressed. The senior job delegate (or shop steward) called the meeting to order. He said: 'I call this meeting to order and I remind you about TWU policy before we start. You can swear but you have to use your own genitals if you must swear. Some of you are real old women and wusses but judging from the showers you don't qualify to use the "c" word'. What was equally amazing was everyone nodded in agreement. Somehow I felt like I had achieved something. I never had any success with the 'old woman' insult or the 'darling' and the 'luv' but there seemed to be some recognition that language was an important issue.

Sexual preference was also a contentious issue in the TWU. The term 'poof' was constantly used as a swearword or insult, and there were endless discussions amongst most of the officials about whether a member was one or not. Like Queen Victoria, most of my colleagues, it seems, did not like to acknowledge that women may prefer women partners. During one memorable meeting, the ten branch officials were sitting discussing tactics for a 10 per cent wage campaign we were about to embark upon. Again the issue of a member's masculinity was discussed. He was described as a 'real girl's blouse', a 'pussy' and so forth, despite my protests at the inappropriateness of these comments. One of the older officials waded into the debate. He looked over his bifocals and said: 'There are ten of us in this room and statistics say that three out of every ten are homosexual. I can account for myself definitely being straight and I reckon Steph's OK. So that leaves eight of you.' The basic problem for me was how do you stand up to homophobia and sexism and still be accepted by your colleagues?

Huntin', shootin', fishin' and ... Surrealism

I was very aware that I didn't enjoy the same recreational activities as the other officials and I had little in common with the clerical staff. I remember being quite excited about being asked to represent the branch at the ACTU conference coming up in Sydney. The concept of being in the 'big smoke' for a few days meant I could go to the Surrealist exhibition in the New South Wales Art Gallery. Fortunately, I kept these thoughts and my passion for the arts to myself. My long-suffering colleagues did however usually come to any dramatic or trade union choir events in which I performed. For a while I followed the women's netball, cricket, hockey and squash. This meant that when the successes of the football, boxing or cricket were discussed amongst the male officials I could report on women in sport. This did eventually work as the officials' wives, daughters and women friends took up this argument too.

My other weakness was that I didn't kill things on the weekend. The TWU men maintained that one should be able to hunt and fish. They supported the licensing of guns and other regulations to protect against extinction of species and the protection of the environment. As they often pointed out, it only had been in this century that families have been able to survive without being directly involved in the growing, hunting and gathering of food on some level. (Indeed both my father and grandfather shot rabbits and fished to supplement the family larder.) While being responsible with regard to these activities, there was a healthy disrespect for rich people who owned some of these natural resources. Discussion centred on the maintenance of equipment, training of dogs and good spots for both fishing and hunting. The barbecues at work were great, particularly when freshly caught snapper, whiting and black duck were on the menu. I expect if I'd been a vegan I wouldn't have fitted in at all.

Contrary to the stereotype, it was very unusual for us to go to the pub. Sometimes we would have a light beer and a smoke after work in the meeting hall at the back of the building. Everyone was mindful of the fact that many TWU members were unable to drink alcohol, as by law they required a zero reading in order to do their job. The image of Jimmy Hoffa and the teamsters seemed very 'Hollywood' in comparison to this outfit. We all worked very long hours, anywhere between 60 and 70 hours per week. Unless you were away fishing or shooting, you were expected to be available seven days a week. This was, of course, worse for the organisers who were accessible 24 hours a day on their mobile telephones because TWU members rarely work between nine to five, Mondays to Fridays.

Organising women in blue-collar industries

The other big challenge for me as the only woman official was professional tactics, in particular how to achieve industrial success without having to use traditional 'boys' means. I was hardly in a position to threaten or even imply violence in my negotiations. Many of my colleagues had distinguished themselves in the Vietnam War, on the football field, in martial arts or in pub brawls. They looked tough, in one way or another, and had all endured a tough life. They were (and continue to be) strong men with a presence of physical toughness. Some were aided by their physical size in their professional approach, others by their tattoos. Then there was me. As I was quite often told, I couldn't even back a semi-trailer and as far as they knew I didn't have balls.

The other failing was that I didn't have an instinctive hatred of all bosses, police and public servants. I refused to treat someone as stupid just because they were on the other side, and I was rarely disparaging of others. Although not all blue-collar union officials are that rigid, nevertheless it was evident that my approach to negotiating with management was different to the norm. I can understand the position of many of my colleagues, however, and my understanding was helped by my own experiences. Both sides of my family came to Australia from England to improve their quality of life. I was raised not to be frightened of police or authority figures but to seek their assistance. All the women in my family are excellent negotiators. The experience of my family was very different to that of the other migrant families in our neighbourhood and the Aboriginal family a couple of doors up. These working-class families had legitimate fears that the police or the social workers would break up their family by putting them in gaol or taking the children away. This attitude was reflected in the workforce, where any decent conditions and wages had to be fought for by the workers and their unions. Although none of the TWU officials would ever recommend industrial action, the members saw the strategy of withdrawing their labour or putting on bans as an efficient negotiating tool. Having been directly involved in many industrial disputes I was also reluctant to support members' losing money on a line.

Women made up less than 1 per cent of the TWU members in South Australia and the Northern Territory. Once the Australian Council of Trade Unions (ACTU) deemed that airport catering crews were part of the airline industry and not liquor and hospitality, the numbers of women members increased from a handful to approximately 200. I tried to sign up women in both the mobile food van areas and an emerging industry called 'feminine hygiene'. More experienced officials warned me that these attempts at recruitment would end in tears. Nevertheless, through my efforts at recruitment, the branch won the first Augusta Zadow Award. Ms Zadow was the first (and up to about 1986 the only) woman factory inspector in South Australia.1 The winning submission set out an occupational health and safety program with regard to the mainly women drivers who went around collecting and delivering feminine hygiene products like sanitary napkins and nappy disposal units, soap dispensers, deodorant and room deodorisers. As the workers compensation advocate, I had received many calls about injuries and accidents from this line of work. Most of the callers had been non-members but still needed assistance in changing practices in their workplace.

The union response to my submission was along these lines:

Them: So what your saying, Steph, is you want us to assist in organising the sheilas that drive those tiny trucks that pick up used sanitary napkins and dirty nappies and spray that revolting 'rose' crap in women's dunnies?

Me: Yes. Have you got a problem with that?

Them: Fair enough.

Me: Remember that discussion we had about the use of the word 'chick' or 'bird' to describe a woman?

Them: Yeah, yeah. So now your going to say 'sheilas' is not acceptable? Tell you what - don't call us 'blokes' and we've got a deal.

Although there were some stark differences between my professional tactics and social habits and those of my male co-workers, I felt respected and liked by TWU members and other organisers. I think this was because I was an excellent industrial officer and achieved good results for the union by doing my homework and putting in very long hours. All in all, with humour, creativity and perseverance, I was able to change, albeit in small ways, the behaviour of my male colleagues in the TWU. It was those 'small' victories - over sexist language and organising women in the feminine hygiene industry - that made me feel like I had achieved something. And the respect and good humour was mutual - in some ways their bark was worse than their bite. As an organiser for a blue-collar union with a strong working-class culture and ethos, I was successful because I never forgot where I'd come from but I also refused to disregard the skills and knowledge I had subsequently obtained.

This is a chapter from Party Girls, Labor Women Now, Edited by Kate Deverall, Rebecca Huntley, Penny Sharpe and Jo Tilly, published by PlutoPress.

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Issue 74 contents

Interview: Politics Italian Style
Italian journalist's union official Rodolfo Falvo talks to Peter Lewis about Italy's Rupert Murdoch and why Italian politics is so crazy.

Unions: A Partnership That Works
Students at Williamstown High in Victoria are benefiting from a creative partnership with TAFE and the Electrical Trades Union. Kevin Peoples reports.

International: Fiji Paymasters Fill Their Own Pockets
The Interim Administration imposed on the people of Fiji, as a result of the coup-makers, have voted themselves a hefty pay increase at the same time as they demand public sector workers take a twelve per cent pay cut.

Politics: USA Campaign 2000 - On the Road
Michael Gadiel reports on the thrills, spills, highs and lows of the US Presidential Election.

Women: Party Girl
'You can take the girl out of the Port, but you can't take the Port out of the girl' - Stephanie Key recounts her life as a feminist in a male bastion, the Transport Workers Union.

Satire: Telstra to issue $50,000 Reith Phonecard
CANBERRA, Monday: Telstra have announced Peter Reith-themed phonecard. The phonecard allows friends and family to make $50,000 worth of phone calls on it before you receive a bill. Plus, you only have to pay the bill in total if there is sufficient public outrage, otherwise the card costs just $950.

Review: Health, Wealth and Mutual Obligations
Mutual obligation for the poor only, increasing income inequality and a widening health gap. Welcome to the 21st century -or is it the 19th?

» Bitter Dispute Ends With Joyful Tidings

» Bodgy Telemarketers Face Union Wrath

» Another Bastard Bank On Rampage

» Employers Reject Individual Contracts

» Time To Come Clean

» Child Care Workers Tell Kim How Howard Nicked Their Money

» Reith Must Apologise Say Hotel Workers

» Telstra Too Smart On Casuals

» Primed To Win

» Payday Nightmare Follows AFFA Outsourcing

» Palestinian Community Seeks Union Support

» Trade Union Choir Rocks Town Hall

» WorkCover Goes For Gold In Paralympics