My story

The swimming pool was the first to go. It was filled with The Patriarchy, a dark green slime that had grown thicker since my father's death. Like most well-established patriarchal institutions, the swimming pool had the privilege of being totally unaware of its privilege. The pool oozed entitlement. My first…

Several years ago, I noticed Pat, an elderly woman who lived in my street, having at the pedestrian crossing. The lights changed before she had an opportunity to cross St Georges Road, a busy road in Northcote. I wrote to the Department of Transport to suggest, with an ageing population,…