International Women's Day 2016

I have a confession to make.

For some time, I have been grappling with guilt over a pledge that I made.

Like many others, I enthusiastically and genuinely took the White Ribbon Day (Australia) pledge:

I swear never to commit, excuse, or remain silent about violence against women.

This is my oath.

The first part of the pledge is easy. I am not a violent person by nature, and like most, balk at the idea of women, or anyone, being the victim of violent acts.

The second part of the pledge is a little more of a grey area, and again, I’m fairly sure I am not alone in this. Yes, we are quick to take a stand against the “monsters” we see in the news, but what happens when it hits closer to home? Do we excuse our friends or family? Do we brush off something we see or hear, that in any other context might seem odd?

Of course we do, it’s only natural.

Human instinct teaches us to trust those we love, and in a self-preserving effort to maintain that, we suppress the doubts that niggle at the back of our minds.

It is the third part of the pledge that is bothering me the most.

I swear never to remain silent about violence against women.

Over the past twelve months or more, I have had several conversations with various female friends who are working in male dominated industries. They are educated, intelligent, ambitious women who fill managerial roles which would have once only been occupied by their male colleagues. We have spoken at length about ‘boys clubs’, bitch fights, back stabbing, and other challenges that women face when trying to succeed within the male paradigm that is our society.

There is one conversation I had, that has been bothering me for some time.

A close friend (let’s call her X) told me a story one night, fueled with several encouraging glasses of wine. X revealed that after a work function recently, her manager had pulled her aside and tried to be physically intimate with her. Uncomfortable and afraid, she had run off, telling herself she was a strong and independent woman, before she broke down in the street and cried.

I felt so stupid.

Girls, we’ve all been there right?

How many times have we doubted ourselves - wondering if we’ve worn something too promiscuous, if we’ve parked our car in an unsafe place, if we should really be walking home alone?

We are taught from such a young age how to be careful, be safe, and not tempt ill-fate in this big, scary world. How then can we not feel foolish and neglectful when something bad happens?

I encouraged X to speak to her workplace, contact Human Resources, ask for support.

She looked at me as if I was completely naive.

And then what Alisa? They move me? To a team that I don’t know, in an area I don’t want to work in? I become the girl who everyone tiptoes around because I claimed sexual harassment? No thanks.

I desperately wanted to tell her that wouldn’t be the case, that justice would be served, and she would be applauded for her bravery.

But if I was completely honest with myself, and with her, I knew that she was right.

And so I was silent.

This silence has been bothering me for some time.

Recently Kesha’s court case, Lady Gaga’s film clip for “Til It Happens To You”, and The Hunting Ground’s Oscar nomination, have reminded me of my silence.

I have been wondering how to express these concerns about violence against women. I am generally not one to get angry and loudly jump up and down, though I truly admire those who do.

But I am angry, and I am sad, and I am scared for our society.

At the beginning of last year, a girl I went to school with was murdered by her husband. I was not close friends with her, she was several years below me, but I was her house captain and have fond memories of her being a vibrant and enthusiastic dancer.

I heard the news of her death on the radio before I knew it was her.

We hear about these atrocities in the media, but never think they will happen to someone we know. The lack of media coverage astounded me, and seeking more information on domestic violence statistics, I came across the Destroy the Joint Facebook page. The page stands for gender equality, and speaks out against misogyny. Their project, Counting Dead Women, records the number of female deaths that are the result of violent acts against women in Australia.

I was shocked at the number of these deaths occurring annually.

I wondered how many other people were familiar with the figures, and why they weren’t better publicised. Every time someone dies in a car accident in Australia, the annual road toll is reported. Why not the same for female victims of violence?

I began to think about how I could give a voice to those lives lost, how to illustrate the shocking statistics, how to help break the silence.

And so the Bird Girls project was born.

I decided to draw a portrait for every life lost as a result of violence against women over the course of one year. This is a daunting task, and each time a new death is recorded, I experience a strange combination of horror at yet another life lost, but also a desire to illustrate and honour that life to the best of my ability.

Each woman is drawn faceless, they are anonymous, reflecting the manner in which most of their deaths are reported.

The body of a 42 year old woman was found…

An unnamed woman was discovered yesterday…

A woman (48) has been found in her home…

While the subject matter is volatile, the illustrations do not attempt to lay blame, be violent or shocking, and instead explore and capture feminine facets that have fascinated artists for centuries - strength, beauty, fertility, fragility, persistence, mystery.

For each death I will draw a new portrait.

No one can say how many there will be by the end of the year, I can only hope that the numbers are slim.

Unfortunately, I’m sure we will be horrified by the statistics.

To date, there already too many.

Nine women have died as a result of violence in Australia this year - the equivalent of one per week.

The portraits will be uploaded here on my blog, where they can be publically viewed.

Please share this with your family, your friends, anyone who might be interested, anyone who wants to see a change.

This is not an issue that belongs just to Australia. Misogyny is rife across the globe, and my work doesn’t even touch on problems that women face in regards to education, health care, work, the right to vote, or being given a voice.

But I cannot take on something as big as all of this.

It is impossible.

The Bird Girls are my contribution, my attempt to join the other voices crying for awareness, change, and women’s rights.

This is me, honouring my oath (very belatedly) and breaking the silence.