'What I Do' (The Sequel)

Maori Issues In Research - Short Assignment
by Danny Rudd

My name is Danny Rudd, I am a Pakeha New Zealander, born in Rotorua, and I have lived most of my adult life in Christchurch and Wellington. My mother lived her entire life in the central North Island, her parents were both first generation New Zealanders born to English parents. My father was born in Hokitika on the West Coast of the South Island, and spent his early adulthood in Christchurch before moving north to settle in Rotorua. His father was a second generation New Zealander of Scottish heritage, and his mother was a first generation New Zealander born to English parents. There is not a drop of Maori blood in my body, but as a gay man with a half-Maori partner, I believe I can relate somewhat to the concerns of Maori in regards to the range of approaches that have been taken in researching Maori people and communities. The following will outline the research approaches described by Walsh-Tapiata (1997) and Ruwhiu (1999), arguing that for someone of my standing in relationship to Maori, a Maori-Centred research approach is optimal.

Ruwhiu (1999, pp. 44-50) describes seven research approaches that have been taken in studying Maori and their communities, and which together comprise a continuum from disempowering to empowering. The first of these is the Pirating approach (Ruwhiu, 1999, p.44), in which non-Maori researchers make use of Maori informants and then present the resulting knowledge as their own insights without acknowledging the contributions of those informants. This approach was commonly taken by anthropologists and other social researchers in Colonial times, it would be a mistake however to believe this approach is no longer taken.

The second research approach identified by Ruwhiu (1999, p.45) is the Restructuring approach, in which the particular, culturally and geographically bound experiences and understandings of Maori are fitted into the cultural understandings of another group, commonly of the European settlers, downplaying the differences between them and misrepresenting Maori in so doing. Ruwhiu (1999, p.45) notes that while this approach is inherently limiting to the group being studied, it has paved the way for more equitable relations.

The third research approach described by Ruwhiu (1999, pp.45-46) is the Third-Party approach, in which researcher and researched agree upon an aide or supervisor who facilitates the process of information-gathering. Ruwhiu (1999, p.46) notes that this approach is not optimal however, for while it gives credit to all contributors, it does not necessarily benefit both parties equally.

The fourth research approach mentioned is the Mentor/Tiaki approach (Ruwhiu, 1999, p.46), in which a researcher gains the benefit of cultural guidance particular to the community being studied and has access to the community as a participant observer, and is accountable to the community. This approach gives Maori a measure of control over the research outcomes.

The fifth approach is the Whanau/Whangai research approach (Ruwhiu, 1999, pp.46-47), where the researcher effectively becomes a member of the Whanau and is expected to meet the obligations of a Whanau member. This approach benefits both the researcher and the researched, allowing the former a far greater understanding of Maori life in being a full participant observer, and benefitting the latter in that the research is intended to strengthen the Whanau, addressing issues that are relevant to that Whanau. This ‘adoptive’ status is conferred on the researcher by the Whanau or Iwi, and cannot be presumed by the researcher. It is entirely possible that my ethnic background and sexuality may prevent my inclusion in this manner.

The sixth approach is the Power-Sharing/Partnership approach (Ruwhiu, 1999, p.47) which emphasises partnership, participation and protection, observing tikanga or appropriate cultural practice, ensuring that both parties derive equal benefits from the work that is done together. Walsh-Tapiata (1997, p.140) notes that this approach affirms the validity of both Maori and Pakeha methodologies, but asserts that Maori methods are most appropriate in dealing with Maori. This approach may be most appropriate for me where I am working with Maori researchers, but may not always be practical, and arguably will limit my own understanding and my usefulness to Maori communities.

The seventh and most optimal approach is the Empowering Outcome approach, which is focused on researching the questions that Maori want to know about and are concerned with creating beneficial outcomes for those researched (Walsh-Tapiata, 1997, p.139). This approach can be divided into Kaupapa Maori and Maori-Centred research models.

Kaupapa Maori research is specifically focused on culture (Walsh-Tapiata, 1997, p.136), it is that which has Maori life and experience as its subject, which is done by Maori researchers, for the benefit of Maori. Kaupapa Maori research highlights the fundamental importance of Whanaunatanga (the establishment of relationships of trust and respect), Te Reo (language and expression), Tikanga Maori (appropriate custom), Rangatiratanga (the right to self-determination) and Mana Wahine/Mana Tane (acknowledgment and respect for the differences between and contributions of both men and women) to Maori people (Ruwhiu, 1999, p.49-50; Walsh-Tapiata, 1997, p.152). I am excluded from participating in Kaupapa Maori research because I have no Maori blood, however I do not feel excluded in this respect, for while the insistence of Kaupapa Maori researchers that only Maori do research on Maori can certainly be seen as being biologically determinist (Ruwhiu, 1999, p.50), I can sympathise with the sentiments that underlie this position.

I understand that retaining some control over the research that is done on one’s own community is an assertion of the validity of that community’s unique perspective, and affords some protection against researchers unsympathetic to the issues faced by that community. Certainly there has been plenty of research done on queer communities and individuals by ‘outsiders’ which has failed to describe the realities of queer people’s lives and has in fact been used to further marginalise and even criminalise them. Like Maori, lesbian and gay people still face discrimination and issues of invisibility (Baker, 2001, pp.99-100).

I believe however that it is not necessary to experience first-hand the particular form of oppression, discrimination and exploitation faced by a minority to see how unjust it is and work to change it, and indeed there are plenty of Pakeha who sympathise with Maori (Melbourne, 1995, p.16). Maori must seek alliances with other oppressed and marginalised groups across ethnic divisions, as they have many of the same concerns. The insistence that research on Maori communities and Maori people should only be conducted by Maori researchers is inherently limiting, depriving Maori of valuable allies and access to the often greater resources of the non-Maori majority (Poata-Smith, 1996, p.114-115). Maori, particularly, are often materially disadvantaged and thus lacking in resources to challenge the prevailing system (McLennan et al., 2004, pp.208-209; Poata-Smith, 1996, pp.114-115).

It can be argued that circumstances only really improve for minorities when they have allies who are not part of their group, as those ‘alien’ to the wider society often need endorsement from others in the mainstream to be accepted. The application of the Maori-Centred research approach presents an ideal opportunity to forge such alliances. Maori-Centred research shares with Kaupapa Maori research the privileging of Maori experience and world-views, the emphasis on Maori participation at all levels of research, and the expectation that Maori research be conducted in ways that are culturally appropriate to Maori (Ruwhiu, 1999, p.48). It does not, however, necessarily exclude non-Maori, and is therefore the optimum approach for researchers like myself.

Walsh-Tapiata (1997, p.134-135) notes that researchers often find themselves greeted with suspicion and even contempt by Maori, who have been marginalised, misrepresented and exploited by Eurocentric academics in the past. Given my ‘outsider’ status and the various Iwi’s potentially differing responses to the prospect of a non-Maori researcher, I would expect some resistance from Whanau and Iwi, as such it would be appropriate for me to approach the community’s leaders for guidance, and to make myself and my intentions known. I would need to demonstrate an awareness of the validity of Maori understandings and emphasise that the work is to be collaborative, and that the community will be involved in the decision making process at every step if they so choose, including in deciding the intended outcomes of the research.

Key to this process is the principal of Whanaunatanga, the establishment of relationships of respect between myself and the community or individuals I wish to work with, a transparency about who I am, what the research is intended for and how it will benefit them. If possible, the involvement of Maori researchers held in high esteem by the Iwi should be sought, and I should demonstrate some proficiency with Te Reo (Walsh-Tapiata, 1997, p.153). This last may present a particular challenge, however preparedness (perhaps through enrolment in a Maori language course at Te Wananga O Aotearoa or similar provider) may offset this difficulty, and certainly under a Mentor/Tiaki approach some assistance may be provided by the Whanau or iwi. A third and final issue that may cause difficulties, as already noted above, is my identity as a gay man, this may be too problematic in some cases, and yet I would venture that openness, persistence, and the support of a respected takatāpui advocate may overcome this barrier.


 
References
Baker, M. (2001). Families, labour and love: Family diversity in a changing world. Crow’s Nest NSW, Australia: Allen & Unwin.

McLennan, G. Ryan, A. & Spoonley, P. (2004). Exploring Society: Sociology for New Zealand students, 2nd ed. New Zealand: Pearson Education.

Melbourne, H. (1995). Maori sovereignty: The Maori perspective. New Zealand: Hodder Moa Beckett.

Poata-Smith, E. Te Ahu. (1996). He Pokeke Uenuku i Tu Ai: The evolution of contemporary Maori protest. In P. Spoonley, C. Macpherson and D. Pearson (Eds.) Nga Patai: Racism and ethnic relations in Aotearoa/New Zealand (pp. 91-115). New Zealand: Dunmore Press.

Ruwhiu, L. A. (1999). Maori knowledges, philosophies and research. Te Puawaitanga o te ihi me te wehi: The politics of Maori social development policy. New Zealand: Massey University.

Walsh-Tapiata, W. (1997). Te Rangahau: Methodological concerns. Raukawa Social Services: Origins and future directions. Waiho ma te iwi e whakarite. New Zealand: Massey University.

Danny's Angry Letter

[Submitted to CHAFF and published 12th October 09]

Leah was smart, beautiful, hilarious, cheeky, warm, friendly, generous, outgoing, popular and passionate. She was also gay, and very recently she committed suicide. Her community is devastated, we miss her terribly, and we’re struggling to come to grips with what happened, searching for answers to heal our broken hearts and finding few. I suspect it will be a long time before our hearts heal.

Bernie was gentle, witty, considerate, daring, charming, fun-loving and funny. He too was gay, and he killed himself a couple of months ago. His friends are still reeling from the shock, and grieving the loss.

The lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender communities in New Zealand and around the world are disproportionately represented in suicide statistics. We are more than three times as likely to commit suicide as our heterosexual peers. We live in a world with few visible role models, we often grow up always looking over our shoulders to make sure we’re not being noticed, laughed at, jeered at and threatened. We sometimes experience complete rejection from lifelong friends and from our families when we finally try living honestly and openly as ourselves, and in some towns and rural areas we have no one to share our struggles with. And sometimes, we are the victims of horrific violent assaults.

We live in a world that tells us we’re pathetic, sick, unwanted, un-thought-of, unimportant. We hear you, Girl in the Library, when you gossip with your friends and you laugh about some guy you know, calling him a ‘fucking faggot.’ We hear you, Dude on the Bus, when you laugh with your mates, saying that [insert object of humiliation here] is ‘gaay!’ You either think we’re not there, that it doesn’t matter, or worse, that those words really do mean stupid, lame, disgusting, pathetic and worthless. You don’t go around saying ‘that’s just Maori!’ or ‘He’s such a nigger,’ cos you know that hurts people. So why do it to us? Every time you say it you tell yourself, the world around you, and maybe some lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender person who might be sitting right next to you that anyone not heterosexual isn’t worth the same human decency you extend to others.

My 10 yr old cousin Reece is gentle, clever, kind, funny and cheerful, he already knows he’s gay, and his mother tells me he comes home crying from school more often than not.

So stop it. Just fucking stop it, ok?

DR

Kicking A Few Hornet's Nests

This guy speaks my language. Here's Tim McCarthy, the founding member of President Obama’s National Leadership Council and Director of the Human Rights and Social Movements Program at Harvard, the video comes via bigthink.com

Squicked

squick
1. Noun. The physical sense of repulsion upon encountering a concept or situation one finds disgusting.
2. Noun. A situation or concept which engenders this reaction.
3. Verb, transitive. To cause someone to have this reaction.
4. Verb, intransitive. To experience this reaction.

The concept of the "squick" differs from the concept of "disgust" in that "squick" refers purely to the physical sensation of repulsion, and does not imply a moral component.

Stating that something is "disgusting" implies a judgement that it is bad or wrong. Stating that something "squicks you" is merely an observation of your reaction to it, but does not imply a judgement that such a thing is universally wrong.

DO NOT WATCH THE FOLLOWING VIDEO IF YOU ARE EASILY SQUICKED!! I POST IT MERELY FOR HILARITY'S SAKE!!



Retrieved from http://www.somegreybloke.com/

Mother

What do you say to a mother?
How can you thank her enough,
But notice the sacrifices she makes
And repay them with undying love?

But what do you say to that mother
When all that you are won't suffice?
When she won't let you have an opinion,
Refuses to see through your eyes?

It's not easy being a mother, I know,
Of one son, let alone three,
And I'm sure that the job's made much harder
When one of those sons is me.

She must have been lonely, my mother,
Raising us left her no time to spare
Every penny she saved went into her boys
And our dad, well he just didn't care.

I want to tell her I love her,
I really do want to be friends;
But we really have so little to say to each other -
For that matter, the same can be said of my brothers -
It must distress her no end.

So what do you say to a mother
When she's given so much to you?
The words 'I love you' aren't nearly enough
But maybe they'll just have to do.

- DannyR

Just Off The Top Of My Head...

Here's an email I sent through to a mate to help her with her Women's Studies assignment...

Compulsory or institutionalised heterosexuality is a set of beliefs that were a central feature of modern societies in the 20th Century; a set of beliefs about the specific roles, behaviours and relationships that are appropriate for the sexes. It's virtualy synonymous with the nuclear family, and somewhat outdated now, but it had a huge effect on western societies, and it continues to hold some sway in the beliefs of a significant proportion of the population.

Institutionalised heterosexuality requires men to be unemotional, rational, good at all things practical, mechanical, mathematical and logical. They are expected to find full-time paid employment in a trade and to use their earnings from that employment to provide for their families, a role commonly referred to as the 'breadwinner.' In many societies, and in Aotearoa New Zealand particularly, men are also expected to enjoy sports, to dislike artistic and cultural pursuits, to have a more sexual focus in intimate relationships and a tendency towards promiscuity, and to be the head of the household.

Women, in contrast, are expected to be emotional, irrational, good at caring, communicating, and maintaining relationships, poor at practical and financial pursuits. It is expected that they will want to have children and spend their time in the home, that they are naturally suited to domestic and child-care tasks and that therefore the home is the most appropriate place for them. They are expected to enjoy shopping, especially for household appliances and furnishings, and to enjoy motherhood. Artistic and cultural pursuits are more appropriate for women than for men, they are expected to dislike or 'put up with' sex, to be more interested in the romantic aspects of relationships and inherently monogamous, and to be obedient and supportive to their spouse.

Institutionalised heterosexuality prescribed marriage as the only appropriate relationship between men and women, with minimal physical intimacy prior to marriage, and the expectation that once married, a man and a woman would remain together for the rest of their lives in a monogamous union. They are expected to own their own home and raise children together.

And that's a really important aspect - they are expected to have children, and to enjoy motherhood. Women who choose not to have children or who cannot have children are considered LESS womanly than those who can and do. Similarly, women who are good with practical skills or sports are considered overly masculine, and it's considered indecent for women to enjoy sex and be anything other than monogamous.

Times have changed somewhat, there is no longer quite the same expectation that relationships will last for life or that the partners will be married, and with the changing nature of paid work over the past fifty years and more equal rights, women are employed to some extent more often than not. Serial monogamy has replaced absolute monogamy. But women are STILL expected to pursue a romantic relationship with a man who they expect to be their lifelong partner, and to give up or reduce their participation in paid employment in order to become mothers. Women are still expected to be responsible for the majority of household labour, to be the primary caregiver for the children and to enjoy motherhood without being paid for it.

Institutionalised or compulsory heterosexuality refers to a SPECIFIC model of heterosexuality that places women in a position of dependence on men, it is institutional because it is expected, and normalised. Anything that deviates from this model is considered immoral, pathological, dysfunctional, less than optimal.

How Useful Is It To Talk About 'The Family' In The Singular?

by DannyR

There is, in this day and age, a great deal of political debate around what is best for ‘the family’ in our society and how it must be protected from an erosion of values. Sociology has much to offer in this debate, and yet to do so, it must be clear what is meant by ‘family.’ How useful is it, then, to talk about ‘the family’ in the singular? The following will argue that this usage obscures differences and divisions both between families and within families, and that as such, it is more appropriate in sociological discourse to speak of families, acknowledging the diversity of family forms both cross-culturally and within Western society, while recognizing that despite their differences, family is still a central organizing feature of most people’s lives.

In Western society, the terms ‘family’ and ‘family life’ are generally assumed to refer to the now-traditional nuclear family model. Cheal (2004, pp. 4-5) defines a ‘nuclear family’ as a legally married heterosexual couple and their children, a unit that regards itself as and is regarded by others as separate from wider society. ‘Family’ then, in mainstream Western society at least, usually refers to ‘Mum, Dad and the kids’. Grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins are generally considered ‘extended family.’ This nuclear family model has been institutionalised in political and academic discourse, being considered the norm even within sociological schools, particularly functionalism.

Functionalists argue that this nuclear family model prevails in Western society because it is functional, i.e.: it is the model that best meets the needs of the modern industrial society in that, being small and less bound to the maintenance of extended family ties, it is more geographically mobile and can therefore meet the changing demands of the industrial economy (Bilton, Bonnett, Jones, et al., 1996, p.487). More significantly, the nuclear family has become the place where individuals have their needs for intimacy, meaning, and emotional support met. Intimacy may be defined as “close association and privileged knowledge, empathy and understanding, love and care” (Jamieson, 1998, p.98). More practically, as the primary welfare institution through which individuals are expected to have their health and nutritional needs catered to, ‘the family’ reduces these burdens on society (McLennan, Ryan & Spoonley 2004 p.80).

A first objection to speaking of ‘the family’ is that this implies that a family is a unit. Individuals within a family do not act collectively, or even necessarily share the same values or goals, and even within the nuclear family model husband and wife have clearly differentiated gendered roles in regard to providing for and supporting family members. The father/husband is assumed to act as protector, provider and leader, the mother/wife as homebound nurturer and housekeeper, and their children are expected to be obedient and learn from their parents the roles they will perform when they themselves have matured (McLennan, Ryan & Spoonley 2004, p.80). The nuclear family is divided along gender and generational lines, and this fact is obscured by referring to ‘the family’ in the singular.

Structuralists including Marxists and feminists see ‘the family’ as a place of conflict and power struggles. Feminists argue that in the nuclear family women are “systematically disadvantaged,” and that men’s power in society both derives from and is reinforced by their privileged position in the home (McLennan, Ryan & Spoonley, 2006, p.81). Men, as the breadwinners and decision makers, have control over the distribution of income within the home, and the institution of ‘the family’ puts women and children in a position of dependency. The division of labour in ‘the family’ favours men, as women do a greater share of the housework, are expected to provide sex, produce children and be the primary caregiver, all for little material recompense – thus for feminists, the family is essentially an institution by which men maintain power over and exploit women.

Marxists have traditionally considered ‘the family’ a fundamental institution of capitalist society, one that refreshes and renews workers without the state having to pay for it, and also produces and socialises children to fulfil the roles modelled by their parents, thereby ensuring a continual supply of workers (McLennan, Ryan & Spoonley, 2004, pp.80-81). For Marxists, ‘the family’ is the basic unit upon which industrial society is built, for in trading their labour for wages with which to provide for their families the working class supports the economy (Bilton, Bonnett, Jones et al., 1996, p. 510). This ‘political economy’ approach asserts that it is society that shapes the family and all the interpersonal relationships within it, and those between it and the outside world, that in fact individuals are not in control of their intimate lives, rather their lives are predicated on class and wealth (Baker, 2001, pp.70-72).

Structuralist and functionalist understandings of ‘the family’ as essentially nuclear, while highly influential in the twentieth century, are problematic in that they assume the ubiquity of the nuclear family model, presupposing an essential basic family unit discernable at all times in all cultures. Clearly this is not the case: historically, notions of ‘the family’ have changed significantly even within Western society, and even the briefest survey of other cultures reveals that there are many diverse understandings of what constitutes ‘family’ across the globe. Jamieson (1998, pp.17-20) describes the evolution of the family in Western society, noting that in the pre-modern/pre-industrial times, families were characterised by a lack of privacy, and that intimacy was tempered by the restrictions of hierarchy based on age and gender. Furthermore, children were not “cherished” or protected as they are today; rather, they were treated as adults and sent out into the workforce to provide extra income. It was only in the modern industrial period that expectations of intimacy and privacy came to be associated with the family, as with family households no longer the primary site of production, marriage and parenthood came to be viewed as more about individuals’ emotional lives.

Marriage, in particular, came to be seen as a source of renewal, support and empathy, in a time where the division of labour in families became more rigidly gendered, with men expected to be the breadwinner, and women the primary caregivers. Having outlined these changes, Jamieson (1998, pp.17-20) goes on to describe two interpretations of the post-modern family, an optimistic appraisal in which the attainment of good relationships, characterised by empathy and understanding, is seen as more important than conventional marriage, where individuals are free to negotiate their own rules around the division of labour and sexual conduct; and a pessimistic appraisal, in which a prevailing ethos of individualism and consumerism in fact isolates people and prevents the attainment of intimacy. Jamieson’s description illustrates that family and household dynamics within Western society have varied over time, and that speaking of ‘the family’ in the singular obscures this historical development.

A second objection is that speaking of ‘the family’ ignores the sometimes substantial differences between families even within mainstream Western society. Even to the lay person, ‘family’ will mean different things depending on her or his own cultural and class background, age and gender (Baker, 2001, p.244). The concept of ‘the family’ does not take account of the changing realities of people’s lives: children grow up and move out into flats, parents separate or spouses die, and thus even nuclear families change over time. There are step-families, single-parent families, adoptive families, married couples and de facto couples which may or may not have or choose to have children. There are also families where the grandparents live in the household, households comprised of unmarried adult siblings, and even polyamorous families in which adults may have more than one romantic relationship concurrently, living as a ‘triple,’ a ‘V’ or in some other non-monogamous arrangement (Barker, 2005, pp.75-88; Bettinger, 2006, p.161).

The heterosexual romantic couple is not necessarily the core of a family unit in contemporary Western society, as gay and lesbian families which may be any combination of the above variations on the theme of ‘family’ are increasingly recognised as acceptable alternatives. Cheal (2002, p.6) notes that the increasing incidence of homosexual cohabitation being recognized as ‘family’ is part of a wider trend of societal acceptance and legal recognition of non-married long-term relationships, while others see these kinds of ‘families of choice’ as inevitable in late modernity (Weeks, 2002, p.218). This listing of exceptions to the nuclear family model is by no means exhaustive, and yet it illustrates the inadequacy of the assumption that the nuclear family is the norm. Referring to ‘the family’ obscures the differences between these families and suggests that there is something dysfunctional or deficient about families that don’t match the norm.

A third objection to the conflation of ‘the family’ with the nuclear family model is that it ignores the many variations of family structure that can be observed in other cultures, the nuclear family is culturally specific and therefore cannot be generalised (McLennan, Ryan & Spoonley 2004, pp.80-81). This failure to acknowledge the diversity of family structures in other cultures wrongly implies that the social structure and composition of Western society is in fact the norm, and thus that any society that deviates from these norms is pathological or dysfunctional. And yet there are any number of ‘functional’ alternatives to the nuclear family model in other cultures; such as the Hamula of Palestine, described by Cheal (2004, pp. 4-5), where ‘family’ consists of any number of men, related to one another by descent from a common ancestor, living hierarchically in the same village, each the head of a household consisting of wives and children. Closer to home, there are the ‘extended families’ of Polynesian cultures, such as the Maori whanau, in which family members have their emotional and material needs met by close-knit intergenerational kin networks. Even so, the fact remains that most of us organise our lives around some idea of family: Jamieson (1998, p.100) and Cheal (2004, pp. 4-5) both note that conventional nuclear family life is still seen by many in Western society as an ideal to aspire to. Additionally, there seems to exist something like ‘family’ in all societies and cultures – across the world humans court, marry, cooperate economically, raise children, and trace their lines of descent (Baker p.244).

In recognition of this, contemporary sociological definitions of family are notably unspecific and broad. Cheal (2002, p.4) for instance acknowledges that no one definition of family works in all contexts, and accordingly defines ‘family’ as a large or small group of people, who are in intimate relationships with one another that last over time and across generations. Symbolic interactionist interpretations, in stark contrast to structuralist and functionalist views of family, define a family as a set of relationships negotiated and constructed by individuals, rather than a ubiquitous set of pre-existing roles that people come to inhabit, the emphasis being on the processes of interaction, rather than on social structures and functions (McLennan, Ryan & Spoonley 2004, pp.81-82).

In sum, sociological discourse should not presuppose the ubiquity of the nuclear family model, but rather must acknowledge that what we in Western society have come to think of as ‘the family’ is in reality no more than a set of ideas or an ideological construct firmly grounded in our own cultural history and bound to our own expectations of generational and gender roles. Consequently, sociological definitions of family life must make allowance for the diverse ways in which individuals structure their family lives, and as such references to ‘the family’ in sociological discourse should be avoided. Where the terms ‘the family’ or ‘family life’ are employed, they must then be understood to encompass the wide diversity of family forms found across time, cultures and even within our own society.


References
Baker, M. (2001). Families, labour and love: Family diversity in a changing world. Crow’s Nest NSW, Australia: Allen & Unwin.

Barker, M. (2005). ‘This is my partner, and this is my… partner’s partner: Constructing a polyamorous identity in a monogamous world.’ Journal of Constructivist Psychology, 18(1), 75-88.

Bilton, T., Bonnett, K., Jones, P., Skinner, D., Stanworth, M. & Webster, A. (1996). Theorising modern family life. In Introductory Sociology (3rd ed.). (pp. 479- 524). Macmillan Press: London.

Cheal, D. (2002). Introduction: Asking questions. In Sociology of family life (pp.1- 17). Basingstoke: Palgrave publishers.

Giddens, A. (1997). ‘Family, marriage and personal life’ in Sociology (3rd ed.). Polity Press, Cambridge, pp.139-170.

Jamieson, L. (1998). From ‘the family’ to sex and intimacy. Intimacy: Personal relationships in modern societies (pp.15-42). Cambridge: Polity Press.

McLennan, G., Ryan, A. & Spoonley, P. (2004). ‘Family Life’ in Exploring Society: Sociology for New Zealand students (2nd ed.), Pearson Education: New Zealand, pp. 77-95.

Weeks, J. (2002). Elective families: Lesbian and gay life experiments. In Alan Carling, Simon Duncan and Rosalind Edwards (Eds.) Analysing families: Morality and rationality in policy and practice, pp. 218-228. Routledge, London.

TAGGED!!

First, post the rules:

- Each blogger starts with ten random facts/habits about themselves.

- Bloggers that are tagged need to write on their own blog about their ten things and post these rules.

- At the end of your blog, you need to choose ten people to get tagged and list their names.

- Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.


1) The first girl I ever fell head over heels for was the biggest bitch I have ever known. She was stunning, her hair was straight and snow-white blonde (not from a bottle, either), it fell to her waist (she never wore it up) and it bounced and swayed as she walked. She was a dancer, so she moved gracefully and was incredibly slim. She was taller than me, and she had freckles across her nose. Her name was Charity, which was kind of ironic, really, because she was unrelenting in her cruelty. Not that she ever swore at me or anything like that, no she was always smiling, and her voice was like honey. Her evil power was in her unerring ability to detect what people were most insecure about and draw attention to it in front of everyone, again and again, smiling sweetly as she did so. She humiliated me all through my teenage years, by saying things like "What on earth possessed you to wear that, sweetie?" and laughing gently at my stature and... other physical attributes... in front of her friends. And I was so smitten that I stumbled over myself trying not to look silly, and making more of a laughing stock of myself in the process.

2) The last time my dad came to visit me in Wellington (a few years back now) I heard him knock at the door and immediately hid under my bed where he wouldn't see me if he looked through the window. I stayed there for nearly three hours, listening to him banging on the door and swearing, hearing him walk around the house and look in through all the windows. Why didn't I just let him in? Because he annoys the hell out of me, showing up unannounced, talking about me to my flatmates as if I wasn't there, saying what he thinks is 'wrong with' me, insulting his hosts and saying every racist, homophobic, chauvanist thing that comes into his Christ-polluted head. Don't get me wrong, he's not saying these things like an ordinary Christian would... he's ANGRY when he says them, and when he gets angry he scares me half-to-death. Ordinary Christians would be horrified, I think, to hear him talking. And he's a minister. Go figure.

3) I cannot save money for the life of me. It's not even that I spend it on stuff, when I look at my bank statement it all seems to have gone on food, rent, power etc. But there's never any left over, and it doesn't matter how much I'm getting on a weekly basis. I think I eat too much.

4) I often fall asleep fantasizing about not waking up, wondering who would find me, what they would find, how they would go about packing up my stuff and distributing it among my family and friends or disposing of it. I wonder if anyone knows me well enough to work out what sort of commemmoration or service I'd want, and who would show up.

5) I had a secret world as a kid, more in my head than anywhere in my real life exactly. It was modelled on a quiet inner-city park I'd found one time when my mum had taken my little brother and me to visit my aunt Thelma and her husband Roy. It was over their back fence, and screened off on all sides by tall trees (I think they were poplars). In the middle of it was a fallen tree trunk, it was thick, hollow, and crawling with spiders and bugs, but I sat there on it enjoying the sunshine until I heard my mum calling for me an hour or so later. Aunt Thelma moved when Roy died, and I never found the place again, but it's still there in my head, I can picture it perfectly, and I escape there whenever I just want 'me' time.

6) I always wanted to be a writer... I still do. I have, under my bed, a good 300 pages of a couple of stories I've partly written. One of the main ways I waste time instead of doing my study is by typing what I've got so far. I think I'm very good at coming up with ideas, but quite poor at taking them to their conclusion, and so I guess I'll never write a book. I think it's because on some level I feel like it's not 'real work' and it would be selfish of me to pursue it.

7) I'm really ashamed of the fact that I did dance classes as a kid... ballet, tap, contemporary, jazz... and I got high marks in the exams. I absolutely hated it, but I loved being on stage, and I knew it made my mum proud so I kept up with it until I was fourteen and was just getting hassled too much by other kids my age. I got bullied a lot for it in primary school, so all through intermediate and high school I tried to hide the fact that I had done it, but it wasn't much good. I was getting called 'faggot' 'poof' and 'queer' before I even knew what the words meant. Retrospectively, I can't help but wonder if that has something to do with who I actually turned into.

8) I once pretended to have lost my wallet and driver's license at a party at someone's house, just so I could ask the guy who lived there to look for it and get back to me. He was one of the most attractive guys I've ever met, and of course I knew he was WAAAYY out of my league but it didn't stop me from obsessing over him for months.

9) I feel like I've lived enough, in that many different places, as that many different versions of me, that the one thing I want in all the world is rest, to not have to be anyone or anything, to not have to think or care or feel anything anymore. I'm feel exhausted, worn out, "thin, like butter spread over too much bread," to use Bilbo Baggins' expression.

10) If I could crawl inside a story, it would have to be 'The Last Continent' by Terry Pratchett, or in fact any of his Rincewind stories. I'd love to be just swept away in the insanity, it would be something new, vibrant and interesting. Rincewind's world conforms to no rules, nothing has to make sense, the only certainty being that you don't piss off The Luggage, or you get eaten. 'The Last Continent' is, I think, Pratchett's most ridiculous story, and it always makes me laugh my socks off.

Less than Perfect....

Met Steve in town in the evening, discussed the Bryce situation - I have to dump him - I love him a lot.

In the evening, Bryce and I went for a walk on the beach, I was very depressed. I don't like living at Ben and Becky's house.

Q: What will it take to reunite the Beatles?
A: Three more bullets.