EXPERIENCES OF GENDER AND SEXUALITY DIVERSE PARENTS IN PRIMARY SCHOOLS
Michelle Alice Jeffries BEd (Prim), MEd (ECT)
Submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy
School of Early Childhood and Inclusive Education
Faculty of Education
Queensland University of Technology
2021
I pay my respects to the First Nations peoples on whose lands
I have conducted this research,
the Turrbal and Yugara peoples of Meanjin.
I pay my respects to their Elders,
past, present, and emerging,
as well as their lores, customs, and creation spirits.
I acknowledge them as
the first educators, researchers, and storytellers
of this place.
Their sovereignty was never ceded.
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools i
Keywords
Australian education; Binaries; Cisnormativity; Early-childhood; Education;
Elementary education; Families; Gender diversity; Family engagement; Family- school partnerships; Heteronormativity; Heterosexual matrix; LGBTQ+; Narrative inquiry; Parent engagement; Parents; Performativity; Poststructural narrative inquiry;
Primary education; Queer theory; Same-sex parents; Schools; Sexual diversity;
Sociology of education; Transgender parents.
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools iii
Abstract
Positive family-school relationships play an important role in children’s school and life success. Thus, the ways in which schools engage with parents is pivotal to the school experiences of young children and their families. For gender and sexuality diverse (GSD) parents, broader social and political complexities also influence the ways in which schools engage with concepts of gender and sexual diversity, as well as notions of family. Given this context of complexity, and the importance of authentic parent/family engagement for children’s success and wellbeing, it is critical that we know more about the lived experiences of GSD parents and their children as they navigate schools and schooling. This research examines the experiences, enablements and constraints reported by a group of Australian GSD parents in navigating their child/ren’s primary school/s. The study employed a poststructural approach to narrative inquiry and drew on two sets of data. Much of the analysis reported in this thesis is the result of dialogic/performance narrative analysis (Riessman, 2008) of data collected from 12 GSD parents across seven families through semi-structured interviews. The context for the study was set through critical analysis of an additional data set, that being a corpus of political, media and public commentary and texts at three points of the same-sex marriage debate between 2004 and 2017. The study draws on key tenets of queer theory to analyse each set of data, including the concept of binaries and Butler’s (2007 [1990], 2011 [1993]) theories of performativity and heterosexual matrix. This thesis explicates how the performative (re)production of norms can create barriers to recognition for GSD parented families in primary schools, through three nested levels of data analysis – that is, those of broader society, schools, and families. The project provides insight into normative discourses circulating in broader society which (re)produce GSD parents and families as unintelligible and inferior to nuclear families. The study uses the queer theoretical concept of binaries to explore the discursive construction of ‘family’ in schools through language, policy and practice. Analysis of participant narratives showed that mum/dad and parent one/parent two binary constructions of family commonly used in schools fail to recognise the diversity of families negotiating schooling sites, including those headed by GSD parents. Recognition of family diversity is important in ensuring GSD parents experience visibility, that is being seen, heard, and understood as valid social subjects. The project provides insight into nuances of GSD parents’ experiences in relation to the visibility continuum – that is, experiences of visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility. Whereas analysis showed that experiences of visibility enabled positive family-school relationships, experiences of invisibility and hypervisibility often constrained parents’ engagement with schools and schooling communities. The analysis also showed that there can be significant labour for GSD parents in navigating the double-bind of invisibility and hypervisibility. Such labour can reduce opportunities for parents to connect with schools and educators about children’s learning and interests, as time and energy may be focused on creating intelligibility/visibility of one’s family or managing hypervisibility. The study contends that in moving beyond binary constructions of family, there is potential for schools to recognise family diversity and create more inclusive spaces for GSD parents and their families. Further, it asserts that if schools are willing to stand in critical relation to norms in order to recognise family diversity, there are opportunities to reduce labour for GSD parents as they engage with their child/ren’s school/s. This thesis offers a rich understanding of the productions of family within schooling contexts and implications for GSD parented families.
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools v
Ideas in Chapter 1 have been published in: Jeffries, M. (2019). Examining media discourses of diversity and ‘indoctrination’: Public perceptions of the intended screening of Gayby Baby in Schools. In A. Baroutsis, S. Riddle, & P. Thomson, Education research and the media: Challenges and Possibilities (pp. 80-96). Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge.
Ideas in Chapters 3, 5 and 7 have been published in: Jeffries, M. (2019). “Doing” gender differently: Exposing the porous nature of gender norms through children’s literature. Jeunesse: Young People, Texts, Cultures, 11(1), pp. 192- 203. Retrieved from http://jeunessejournal.ca/index.php/yptc/article/view/432
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools vi
Table of Contents
Keywords ...... iii Abstract ...... v Table of Contents ...... vii List of Figures ...... xi List of Tables ...... xii List of Appendices ...... xiii List of Abbreviations ...... xiv Statement of Original Authorship ...... xvii Acknowledgements ...... xix Dedication ...... xxi Chapter 1: “It’s Called a Human Being”: The Politics of Gender, Sexuality, and Family ...... 1 Socio-Political Context of the Study ...... 2 Australian Statistics: GSD Parented Families...... 11 Studying GSD families ...... 14 Terminology: Representing GSD people ...... 16 Researcher’s Standpoint ...... 18 Significance of the Study ...... 20 Structure of Thesis ...... 23 Conclusion ...... 24 Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature ...... 27 The Construction of Nuclear Families as Normal and Natural ...... 29 Parent Engagement and Family-School Relationships ...... 35 Historical and current policy context of parent engagement in schools...... 36 Approaches to parent engagement and GSD parents...... 41 Experiences of GSD Parents in Educational Settings ...... 50 School choice...... 53 Disclosure...... 54 School policy and forms...... 56 Family-school partnerships...... 57 Children’s safety and wellbeing...... 59 GSD inclusive curricula and resources...... 61 Language… ...... 63 Invisibility, hypervisibility and silencing...... 65 Hostility, harassment, homophobia and transphobia...... 68 Sameness and diversity...... 69 Conclusion ...... 70
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools vii
Chapter 3: Queering Parents and Schools: Theoretical Framing of the Study ...... 73 Cultural, Political, and Intellectual Histories Preceding the Emergence of Queer Theory .... 76 Queer Theory: Key Tenets ...... 84 Subjection and norms of recognition/intelligibility...... 85 Categories of identity...... 86 Queer as a noun vs. queer as a verb...... 86 Binaries…...... 88 Heteronormativity and Cisnormativity...... 90 Sex, gender, desire and the heterosexual matrix ...... 95 Performativity...... 100 Intersectionality...... 102 Conclusion ...... 104 Chapter 4: Storying Families, Storying Lives: Research Design and Methodology ...... 107 The Research Project ...... 108 Taking a Narrative Inquiry Approach ...... 109 Narrative inquiry in educational research...... 110 Poststructural approach to narrative inquiry...... 114 Avoiding totalising depictions and notions of ‘truth’...... 115 Considering researcher identity and power...... 117 Resisting unambiguous solutions and stable meanings...... 121 Challenging dominant discourses...... 121 Bringing poststructural narrative inquiry to the study of GSD parents and primary schools...... 123 Design and Methods ...... 124 Active interviews to collect narratives from parents...... 125 Participants...... 130 Political, media and public commentary and texts...... 137 Narrative Analysis ...... 138 Approaches to narrative analysis...... 139 Thematic narrative analysis...... 140 Structural narrative analysis...... 142 Dialogic/performance analysis...... 142 Data analysis in the study: Parent experiences and contexts...... 144 Dialogic/performance narrative analysis of interview data ...... 145 Analysis of political, public, and media commentary and texts...... 158 Reliability and Validity ...... 158 Ethics ……………………………………………………………………………………….159 Conclusion ...... 161
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools viii
Chapter 5: GSD Families Through the Lens of the ‘Nuclear’: Circulating Discourses of Unintelligibility ...... 165 Governing Kinship Norms: Producing the Nuclear Family as Natural, Normal, and Ideal as the Marriage Act is Changed (2004) ...... 169 Delving into the Discourses of the Nuclear as Natural, Normal, and Ideal (2012) ...... 177 Procreation and notions of the ‘natural’ parent...... 184 Necessity of gender complementarity for children’s development and wellbeing. ....186 Child rights discourses...... 190 Normative and Discursive Changes: Dominant Discourses and Gender Diversity (2017) ..197 Conclusion ...... 207 Chapter 6: The Mum/Dad Binary: Productions of the Family as ‘Nuclear’ in Schools ...... 211 Family in Australia: Thinking Beyond the Nuclear ...... 213 Binaries: A Theoretical Lens for Narrative Purposes ...... 216 Hailing All Mums and Dads: Production of the Family Through Interpellation ...... 221 The Mum/Dad Binary: Producing families as nuclear...... 223 One plus one equals two: Producing families through the parent one/ parent two binary...... 238 Beyond the mum/dad binary: Recognising diverse families...... 245 Conclusion ...... 248 Chapter 7: “We’re So Outside Normal, We’ve Become Normal”: Examining the Nuances of the Visibility Continuum ...... 251 Concepts of Visibility, Invisibility and Hypervisibility ...... 253 Subjection Through Foreclosure and Exclusion: Examining Censorship and Invisibility ...259 Experiencing visibility within the schooling context...... 260 Invisibility through implicit and explicit censorship ...... 262 Transitioning Gender in the Schooling Context: Marked Bodies and the Visibility Continuum ...... 274 Talking with the teacher: Experiencing visibility...... 275 Beyond the classroom: Experiencing hypervisibility...... 277 Strategies and future-thinking: Chosen invisibility and unwanted invisibility...... 282 Traversing the Borderlands of Invisibility and Hypervisibility: Experiences of Labour as a Same-Sex Parent...... 293 “Partner? She can’t be your partner!”: Labour of derealisation...... 295 “I’m too big, too public, too aggressive”: Labour of rattling norms...... 298 “It’s like this insane self-consciousness”: Labour of the unspeakability of ‘dangerous’ knowledges...... 301 “Oh you’re gay, I can ask you”: Labour of being cast as the spokesperson...... 303 “It’s alienating not to be treated as an individual”: Labour of being seen as a part of a homogenous group...... 306 “I can relax, somebody else has this”: Reduced labour resulting from visibility/intelligibility...... 310 Discussion ...... 313 Conclusion ...... 315
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools ix
Chapter 8: “I Don't Feel Like I Should Have To Ask Permission For My Family Just To Be My Family”: Implications and Conclusions ...... 319 Retracing the Process ...... 320 Contribution to Literature, Theory, and Methodology ...... 327 Ethics and Caveats/Limitations of the Study ...... 330 Opportunities for Future Research ...... 334 Recommendations for Policymakers and Schools ...... 336 A Final Comment ...... 340 Bibliography ...... 343 Appendices ...... 393
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools x
List of Figures
4.1 Excerpt of narrative table entry: The Crossing the Road Story……….………... 148 4.2 Category coding within individual interviews…………………….……...... 149 4.3 Excerpts from early written analyses of coded categories in Claire and Raeven’s interview transcript…………………………………………………... 150 4.4 Example of a mindmap analysis using coding within individual interviews………………………………………………………………………. 150 4.5 Using coding for written analysis of categories across all interviews...... 152 4.6 Extract from structural narrative analysis of narrative about perceptions of gendered parent roles, drawing on Labov and Waletzky’s (1967) model of narrative analysis……………………….……………………...... 153 4.7 An early mindmap - thinking through concepts and patterns across the data….. 154 4.8 Physical sorting of narratives using cut up versions of all segments of narrative tables in order to think through patterns across the data……………………….. 154 4.9 Early planning of data chapters………………………………………………… 155 4.10 Pages from my planning journal………………………………………………... 156 4.11 Using large whiteboards to revisit data and rework Chapter 7………………… 156 4.12 Thinking through links within Chapter 7 narratives…………………………… 157 6.1 Hierarchised structuring of the heterosexual/homosexual binary……………… 217 6.2 The binary working as a unified whole to erase/suppress other categories of sexuality, specifically bisexuality………………………………………………. 218 6.3 The binary working as a unified whole to erase/suppress other categories of sexuality. Expanded model…………………………………………………….. 219 6.4 The binary working as a unified whole to erase/suppress categories of gender that sit outside the cisgendered male/cisgendered female binary………………. 220 6.5 The interpellation of families through the mum/dad binary erases many diverse ways of doing family…………………………………………………... 227
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools xi
List of Tables
4.1 Categories for coding across all interviews………………………….… 151 4.2 Six step process I used to work with data produced in the research study...... 157 5.1 Categories for coding submissions opposing marriage equality…….…. 180 5.2 Description of categories for coding submissions opposing marriage equality…….………………………………………..……..…. 181
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools xii
List of Appendices
Appendix A: Timeline of events
Appendix B: Interview guide and prompts
Appendix C: Yarning map
Appendix D: Participant information form
Appendix E: Categories for narrative table
Appendix F: Description/examples of categories for coding:
(Expanded version of Table 5.2)
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools xiii
List of Abbreviations
ACL: Australian Christian Lobby
AIHW: Australian Institute of Health and Welfare
APA: American Psychiatric Association
ART: Assisted Reproductive Technologies
C2C: Curriculum to Classroom
DSM: Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders
F2M: Female to Male
GLSEN: Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network
GSD: Gender and Sexuality Diverse
HILDA: Household Income and Labour Dynamics Australia
ISSP: International Social Survey Program
LGBT: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender
LGBTIQ+: Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Intersex and Queer Plus
LSAC: Longitudinal Study of Australian Children
NAPLAN: National Assessment Program – Literacy and Numeracy
P&C: Parents and Citizens Association
SSCA: Safe Schools Coalition Australia
SSCV: Safe Schools Coalition Victoria
SSAGD: Same Sex Attracted and Gender Diverse
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools xiv
UNCRC: United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child
US: United States
WIPD: Wear It Purple Day
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools xv
Statement of Original Authorship
The work contained in this thesis has not been previously submitted to meet requirements for an award at this or any other higher education institution. To the best of my knowledge and belief, the thesis contains no material previously published or written by another person except where due reference is made.
Signature: QUT Verified Signature
Date: 08/02/2021
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools xvii
Acknowledgements
This thesis is built on story. I pay respect to my ancestors, to their stories lost and the stories which have survived. My nana shared herself through story. I could turn up at her door and she would generously share the narratives of her life for hours on end. Some of these stories were like the well-worn grooves on a record, played over and over, and others were songs unheard, leaping from her lips to ever eager ears. My nana passed away during the candidature period of my doctorate; I held her hand as many of her stories slipped away with her. In some way, I hope my work here honours her gifts; I thank my dear, beautiful Nana for the gifts of story and connection.
It takes a village to raise a thesis. I am grateful to all those who have contributed to the various facets of my doctoral journey. I thank LGBTIQ+ Elders across time for their sacrifices in fighting for the right to live, love, and be. As a researcher, I stand on their shoulders, and on the shoulders of the LGBTIQ+ researchers who came before me; they live in the very foundations of my work.
I thank the participants of this study who so generously gave their time and shared their narratives of navigating school life as parents. Without them, there would be no study and no thesis. I am grateful to them for sharing their stories.
I thank my supervisors, my “dream team”, as many have called them – a name with which I wholeheartedly agree. I have written hundreds of thousands of words during my candidature, yet I struggle to find the words to describe the enormity of all that they have given. I sincerely thank Dr Lyndal O’Gorman and Professor Annette Woods for reading endless drafts and giving feedback on each and every one. I thank them for their kindness, understanding, encouragement, guidance, wisdom, and for their calm. Most of all, I thank them for always challenging me to lift my writing, my analysis, and my work, just that little bit more. These lessons and their wisdom will be a guiding light as I continue in my work. Their dedication to their students is an inspirational model that I will take forward with me and draw upon throughout my life.
I acknowledge and thank the many colleagues and scholars who have contributed to my thinking, learning, research, and writing. We have connected through research projects, workshops, conferences, reading groups, committees, HDR studies, visiting scholar arrangements, and more. In particular, I would like to acknowledge the connections I have made through the Australian Association for Research in Education (AARE). The people I have met through the AARE Gender and Sexualities SIG at events and conferences, as well as those with whom I have connected as postgraduate member of the AARE Executive Committee and as SIG co-convenor, have been incredibly generous and collegial. I have a deep appreciation for their mentorship, kindness, knowledge sharing, and for meeting me as an equal, even in moments where I felt I was not. I would also like to thank Associate Professors Tania Ferfolja and Jacqueline Ullman for so generously giving their time, from early in my candidature, to discuss and engage with my research and
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools xix
for being some of my greatest cheerleaders throughout this doctoral journey. I am grateful for their encouragement, interest, and kindness. I also thank Associate Professor Tonya Callaghan for her mentorship, wisdom-sharing and the opportunity to work with such a wonderful team in the LGBTIQ+ research space.
I would like to acknowledge the many academics, professional staff, and postgraduate students at QUT who have kindly offered their mentorship, encouragement and support throughout my candidature. The list of people who have contributed to this journey is far too long to be able to include everyone by name, however there are a few people I would like to specifically acknowledge here. To Nerida, Jen, YinYue, Li Wei, Mary and Lynn, I feel so privileged to have walked this path with you and am grateful for your support as we completed our HDR studies together. To Lisa, thank you for the many opportunities to contribute to LGBTIQ+ focused spaces, as well as for your support and always keeping it real. To Kelli, you always seemed to turn up in the most challenging moments with a story that helped me to feel I wasn’t alone, and some wise words that helped me through. I thank Emma and Martin for the extensive support they provided to HDRs through their brilliant workshops and for their genuineness and care, and Karen and Cathy for opening up spaces of scholarly conversation with the Sockheads reading group. Likewise, I am sincerely grateful to my QUT final oral panel members –Dr Claire O’Farrell, Professor Gordon Tait, and Dr Lisa van Leent – for providing valuable and constructive feedback on my research.
I sincerely thank the examiners of the thesis for engaging so deeply with my work and providing feedback and advice that will continue to shape my thinking as I learn and grow as a researcher in the coming years.
I also thank the Australian Government Department of Education, Skills and Employment for providing a Research Training Program Scholarship, and QUT for awarding a QUT Student of Excellence Top-Up Scholarship, as a provision of support throughout my candidature. Combined, these scholarships provided a gateway to undertake doctoral work full-time, as well as to engage fully in academia through opportunities such as committee work, scholarly reading groups, research groups, conferences, and workshops. I will be forever grateful for these opportunities – they have helped to shape me as a researcher.
I thank my family, friends, and loved ones for their love, support, and encouragement throughout my candidature. Most of all, I thank them for understanding my absence, particularly as the end drew closer.
I thank the more-than-human beings who have brought peace, calm and a sense of connection as I have undertaken this research, with notable mention of the tree outside my study window and its daily bustling of birds, possums and butterflies. I also thank Daxcat, a street cat who recently chose my partner and I to be his forever family. His peaceful energy has helped to bring calm in the final moments of writing and revisions.
Lastly, to my partner, Theo. There are no words. Your inspirational post-it- notes kept me going and your humour kept me sane. Thank you for every small and large contribution you have made to help me finish a thesis I feel proud of.
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools xx
Dedication To My Nana
October 1927 – June 2019
Experiences of gender and sexuality diverse parents in primary schools xxi
Chapter 1: “It’s Called a Human Being”:
The Politics of Gender, Sexuality, and Family
As politics and my personal life collided today what became clear was that in the
eyes of some I am not normal and my children are not normal. In the eyes of
some, the thousands of gay men, lesbian, transgender and intersex people and
our families in our communities are not normal. It is time for this to stop. I am
normal. My kids are normal. Being gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender or
intersex is normal. It is called being a human being. Aspiring to have a family is
normal. Creating LGBTI families is normal. The profound truth of parenting and
the great diversity of families is that in every family — no matter what its
structure — every parent is doing their best, but none of us is perfect. We do not
need the judgement, advice or feigned concern of those who seek to comment on
LGBTI families. We need the respect that we give every family, no matter its
structure. Our children need to live their lives in loving families without
discrimination and without having others tell them they are not normal.
– The Hon. Penny Sharpe in NSW Parliamentary Debates (2015),
In Australia, in recent years, gender and sexuality diverse (GSD) parents and caregivers (henceforth referred to as ‘parents’) have raised their children within a context of rising political tensions about same-sex marriage, recognition of gender diversity, and inclusion of GSD knowledges within schooling contexts. Within such a space, GSD parents have had to navigate complexity and be subject to the stresses of public debate about the validity and appropriateness of their identities, relationships, and families. In the extract of the speech above, Penny Sharpe, a New
South Wales (NSW) state parliamentarian, responded to comments made by
Chapter 1: “It’s Called a Human Being”: The Politics of Gender, Sexuality, and Family 1
conservative media that positioned GSD families as ‘not normal’. This extract highlights the challenges for GSD families when they are positioned as abnormal and, somehow less than, what are constructed as ‘normal’ families. Given this context of complexity, and that schools are spaces in which heterosexuality and fixed, binary notions of gender can be reinforced as ‘normal’ (DePalma & Atkinson,
2010; DePalma & Jennett, 2010; Ferfolja, 2007a; Renold, 2003, 2006; Ullman &
Ferfolja, 2015), it is critical that we know more about the lived experiences of GSD parents and their children as they navigate schools and schooling. Existing literature is clear – positive family-school relationships play an important role in children’s school and life success (Epstein, 2011, p. 359; OECD, 2011), and so the ways in which schools engage and partner with GSD parents play a pivotal role in the experience of education for children of GSD parented families. The study reported in this thesis explored the experiences of GSD parents with primary schools.
This chapter provides some detail about the socio-political context within which the study was conducted. I will detail the research questions that framed the investigation and also explain terminology. I explore the researcher’s standpoint that
I have taken throughout the research and this is followed by a discussion about the significance of the study. In the final section of this chapter, the structure of the thesis document will be outlined.
Socio-Political Context of the Study
The socio-political context of this study, conducted between 2015 and 2020, has been one of constant flux. Following constitutional acknowledgements in mid-
2015 that allowed same-sex couples to marry in Ireland1 and in the United States
1 In May 2015, a referendum was held in Ireland which proposed changes to the Constitution to allow same-sex couples to marry. More than 60% of people voted for the change and same-sex marriage has been legally recognised in Ireland since November, 2015.
Chapter 1: “It’s Called a Human Being”: The Politics of Gender, Sexuality, and Family 2
(US)2, there was increased pressure from sections of the Australian public to legislate for same-sex marriage. This was not the first time public pressure had been placed on the government to allow same-sex marriage, however increasing recognition across numerous Western countries meant the Australian government’s position to maintain marriage laws as being between one man and one woman was becoming untenable.
In August, 2015, the Australian Federal Government announced that it intended to engage the public in a vote to decide by popular majority whether to afford same-sex couples equal marriage rights (Doran, 2015). This decision was made despite the Australian Constitution allowing politicians to independently enact any legislative changes to the Marriage Act without public consultation. A Bill to hold a compulsory plebiscite was voted down by the Senate in November, 2016, with concerns about the harm debate could cause, particularly for vulnerable members of the LGBTIQ+ community (Keany & Holman, 2016). Despite this decision, a public vote eventually went ahead in August 2017 as a non-compulsory, non-binding, postal survey to collect “statistical information” about participating voters’ perspectives on whether same-sex couples should be allowed to marry (Commonwealth of Australia,
Finance and Public Administration References Committee, 2017, p. 6). It was intended that, should the majority of Australians vote to allow same-sex couples to marry, the government would change the Marriage Act.
This national vote created significant distress amongst members of the
LGBTIQ+ community, particularly as it invited public debate and commentary about
GSD identities, relationships, and families. Close to 80% of eligible voters responded to this survey, with the majority of participating Australians (7,817,247 / 61.6%)
2 In June, 2015, the US Supreme Court ruled that state bans on same-sex marriage were unconstitutional. This decision effectively legalised, and required the recognition of, same-sex marriage across the US.
Chapter 1: “It’s Called a Human Being”: The Politics of Gender, Sexuality, and Family 3
voting to allow same-sex couples to marry (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2017a).
Shortly after the results of this vote were publicised, the issues were again debated in
Federal Parliament and, accordingly, a parliamentary vote taken on whether to amend the Marriage Act. As a result, on 9 December, 2019, same-sex marriage became legal in Australia. Despite the outcome of the public vote, four politicians voted against the legislation and ten politicians abstained from voting rather than indicating a negative vote (Henderson, 2017).
Perhaps reflective of a view of marriage as the legal status of family formation
(Butler, 2004), debates and discussions about same-sex marriage have regularly drawn upon normative discourses of family to argue against allowing same-sex marriage. These arguments contend that same-sex parenting causes damage to children because it denies them either a mother or a father (Australian Christian
Lobby, 2015; Australian Marriage Forum, n.d.; van Gend, 2016). Such discourses of family position ‘nuclear’ families, that is, families that are headed by a stable, monogamous, cisgendered, heterosexual couple, as being in the best interests of the child/children within that family (Hosking & Ripper, 2012). The result of drawing on these discourses is that same-sex parented families have been portrayed as a lesser form of family, and as causing children harm.
These ideas about what is in the ‘best interests of the child’ often occur in direct contrast to the term’s original usage in The United Nations Convention on the
Rights of the Child (UNCRC) (United Nations General Assembly, 1989). Such rhetoric is antithetical to child rights in that it idealises and elevates the heteronormative nuclear family and denies recognition of diverse family forms, encouraging assessment of same-sex parented families as dangerous, abnormal and unfit for children. Discourses which position same-sex parenting as harmful to
Chapter 1: “It’s Called a Human Being”: The Politics of Gender, Sexuality, and Family 4
children fail to recognise the large body of research which has found the wellbeing and outcomes of children with same-sex parents are congruent or better than those of their heterosexual parented peers (Bos, Knox, van Rign-van Gelderen, & Gartrell,
2018; Dempsey, 2013; Knight, et al., 2017; Manning, Fettro, & Lamidi, 2014).
In addition to discourses positioning same-sex parented families as inferior to heterosexual structures within the broader socio-political context, concerns about the welfare of children have also been raised in relation to gender diverse parenting. In
2008, when the pregnancy of Thomas Beatie, a transgender male, was shared across multiple media creating a “sensationalist, and often transphobic, public response”
(Grigorovich, 2014, p. 81), many expressed alarm and concern about the pregnancy in relation to the welfare of Beatie’s child (Grigorovich, 2014, p. 90). Online public comments included concerns about the “confusion” and “many psychological problems” that would be caused as a result of the child being carried by a transgender male, with suggestions that Beatie’s pregnancy represented an “experiment” on children (Grigorovich, 2014, pp. 90-91). Similar online public commentary was evident in recent online discussions about Freddy McConnell, a transgender male who gave birth to a child and petitioned courts to be the first ever birth parent listed as ‘father’ on a birth certificate in the United Kingdom. This request was ultimately denied by the high court. Some people labelled McConnell as selfish and raised concerns about the psychological harm transgender parenting would cause to his child (MM1 in Hussain, 2018; SRH & Obbah in Rogers, 2018; Lynn in Scully,
2019). Comments such as these position families that disrupt hegemonic constructions of “binary gender norms, heteronormativity and parenthood” as harmful to children (Grigorovich, 2014, p. 91).
Chapter 1: “It’s Called a Human Being”: The Politics of Gender, Sexuality, and Family 5
In addition to considering the construction of GSD parented families as harmful to children in the broader socio-political landscape, it is also important to ground the project in the positioning of gender and sexual diversity in relation to education. There have been several moral panics3 about the inclusion of content reflecting concepts of diverse genders and sexualities in schools in recent years which assist in providing insight. For instance, in August, 2015, a media frenzy unfolded in response to news that one girls’ high school in Sydney, New South
Wales (NSW), intended to screen a documentary which followed the journey of four children growing up with same-sex parents. The documentary – Gayby Baby (Mars
& Newell, 2015) – was intended to be shown as a part of a whole-school event to mark Wear It Purple Day (WIPD), an internationally-celebrated day aiming to end discrimination and bullying of GSD youths, prevent youth suicide, and encourage inclusivity and equality (Bagshaw, 2015; Bennett, 2015; Wear it Purple, 2015). The school was just one of 20 in NSW intending to screen the film to observe WIPD.
Conservative media at the time suggested that the showing of Gayby Baby was an attempt by the school to ‘promote’ a gay lifestyle and indoctrinate children into thinking gay families were the ‘norm’ (Akerman, 2015; McDougall, 2015). It was also implied that school staff members were forcing a left-leaning political agenda onto impressionable children (see for example "Schools learn their PC before their
ABC" [Editorial], 2015; Akerman, 2015). In response to this initial media reporting, the NSW Education Minister, Adrian Piccoli, quickly issued a directive to
3 According to Cohen’s (2011 [1972]) foundational work, there are several predictable aspects of a moral panic. First, “a condition, episode, person or group of persons emerges to become defined as a threat to societal values and interests” (p. 1). The mass media draw on simplistic representations and stereotypes to produce and promulgate this ‘threat’, which leads to an incitement of public anxieties. Moral entrepreneurs are also involved in the promulgation and generation of this perceived threat, and the moral panic can lead to repressive changes to policy and law. Finally, the panic abates, however there is potential for long-lasting consequences and significant changes to society, law and social policy as a result of the panic.
Chapter 1: “It’s Called a Human Being”: The Politics of Gender, Sexuality, and Family 6
government schools state-wide not to screen the film during school hours
(McDougall & Wood, 2015). This decision was followed by continuous media reporting and opinion pieces on the matter for almost two weeks, leading to extensive public commentary on traditional and social media sites (Jeffries, 2019).
Preventing the film from being shown in schools across the state brought to the fore an example of Ferfolja’s (2013) assertion that sexual diversity is rarely represented or acknowledged in schools as it is often positioned as “sensitive or too controversial for schooling communities” (p.162). Moreover, Robinson (2008), who has written extensively about moral panics and childhood-as-innocence discourses, suggests that moral panics about children’s exposure to diverse sexualities are “a political strategy for maintaining the hegemony of the nuclear family, the sanctity of heterosexual relationships and the heteronormative social order” (Robinson, 2008, p.
114). As such, moral panics about representing or teaching about sexual diversity in schools, alongside research which shows that schools and schooling tend to be grounded in heteronormativity (DePalma & Atkinson, 2010; DePalma & Jennett,
2010; Ferfolja, 2007a; Renold, 2003, 2006; Ullman & Ferfolja, 2015), suggest that schools are a potential site for constraints with regard to recognition and intelligibility of same-sex parented families.
As another example, in early 2016, six months after the Gayby Baby furore took place, widespread moral panic unfolded in relation to Safe Schools Coalition
Australia (SSCA), an initiative established to “support the positive inclusion of same- sex attracted, intersex, and gender-diverse people and to challenge and reduce homophobia and transphobia in schools” (Ward, 2018, p. 48). The initiative was funded by the Australian Federal Government between 2014 and 2017 and grew out of the earlier work undertaken by Safe Schools Coalition Victoria (SSCV) in 2010
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(Safe Schools Coalition Australia, 2020). SSCA drew on academic research by
Hillier et al. (2010), which showed that GSD young people experienced significant levels of homophobia and transphobia in schools and felt unsupported within those educational contexts. The Safe Schools initiative experienced little controversy in the first five years of its use, however, in 2016 SSCA came under sustained attack by conservative, Christian right-wing groups such as the Australian Christian Lobby
(ACL) and Family Voice, as well as conservative media outlets and some morally conservative politicians (Law, 2017; Thompson, 2019; Ward, 2018).
Commentary by right-wing conservative media, politicians and lobby groups regularly positioned SSCA as inappropriate for children and schools. For instance,
Wendy Francis (2016), the Queensland Director of the ACL, claimed in a petition to the Queensland state government that the initiative promoted “radical sex education and gender theories” which were dangerous to children, and requested the government conduct an inquiry into resources used within the program (para. 2).
This was not the first time Francis had petitioned the state government about SSCA.
In the year prior, she requested the government cease the SSCA program immediately, labelling it a “radical sexual program” that “denie[d] children their right to innocence” (Francis, 2015, para. 1). Each of these petitions garnered more than 10,000 Queensland resident signatures. Similarly, in 2016, conservative Federal
MP George Christensen claimed that the program was “unsafe” [and] represented the
“indoctrinat[ion of]… children” (Cth. Parliamentary Debates, 2016a). Further, he suggested that the work and associated materials of SSCA reflected the kind of
“grooming work that a sexual predator might undertake” (Cth. Parliamentary
Debates, 2016a), positioning the program as predatory and dangerous to young people. Senator Bob Day claimed that SSCA was “anti-parent” and “smack[ed] of
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the intolerant seizing state apparatus to drive their view of the world… down the throats of children without their parents’ knowledge” (Cth. Parliamentary Debates,
2016b). Such claims of indoctrination with regard to SSCA were often linked to same-sex marriage and concerns about religious freedom, with the idea that the
‘homosexual lobby’ was using innocent children to gain political recognition and rights for GSD persons. For instance, in a statement about the SSCA, Australian
Federal Senator Cory Bernardi reflected:
The program, written by homosexual activists… encourages children as young as
11 to become advocates for the homosexual cause… Not satisfied with pursuing
religious figures through the legal system over their support for traditional
marriage, activists are now seeking to co-opt innocent children into their agenda of
intolerance. Of course, like every other Australian, homosexual activists are free to
pursue their cause among the adult community in whatever manner they like,
within the bounds of the law. But they should have the decency to leave our
children and our education system out of it. (Bernardi, 2016)
The excerpts above demonstrate a view that including knowledges about gender and sexual diversity in educational environments is predatory, and one in which children’s ‘innocence’ is violated.
While educating about diversity is usually considered important to achieving an inclusive schooling system, the inclusion of GSD concepts in education, then, has regularly been positioned by moral entrepreneurs4 as predatory, coercive and
4 The term ‘moral entrepreneur’ was first coined by Becker (1963) and refers to moral crusaders (whether they operate as an organisation, group or individual) that work to ensure existing norms are maintained, or attempt to influence the adoption of new norms. The concept of the moral entrepreneur was taken up by Cohen (2011 [1972]) in his work on moral panics. Cohen represents moral entrepreneurs as attempting to combat perceived threats to the norm through the construction of ‘deviance’ – with notions of deviance based their own ideas of moral behaviour. When discussing moral panics, Cohen contends that “the media play on the normative concerns of the public and by thrusting certain moral directives into the universe of discourse, can create social problems suddenly
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dangerous, with students constructed as easily-led victims in the need of protection
(Epstein, O’Flynn, & Telford, 2003; Shannon & Smith, 2017; Thompson, 2019).
Reasons for discomfort about, and opposition to, diverse genders and sexualities being made more visible in schools in part relates to the construction of the child as
‘innocent’, not ready for sexual knowledge and the consequent expectation that schools be asexual environments which reflect normative ideas about gender (Carlile
& Paechter, 2018; Robinson, 2008, 2013; Thompson, 2019). This is perhaps particularly evident in early-childhood and primary sectors. The hegemonic notion of childhood innocence is a constructed moral and social concept that signifies children as unknowing, ‘pure’, naive, vulnerable, asexual, immature, and lacking knowledge about sex and sexuality, representing a perceived and regulated boundary between childhood and adulthood (Robinson, 2005, 2012, 2013; Robinson & Davies, 2018;
Taylor, 2010; Thompson, 2018, 2019). This concept draws on Western constructions of childhood evident across the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries and positions sexual knowledge as exclusively the domain of adults (Robinson & Davies, 2018). The
‘knowing’ child is, consequently, constructed as non-innocent and corrupted
(Robinson, 2005, 2012).
Through a childhood-as-innocence lens, knowledge of diverse genders and sexualities, including concepts relating to GSD families, is viewed as dangerous and damaging to the child (Hopkins, 2013). Through this lens of danger, parents, schools, and educators have been positioned as gatekeepers of knowledge and protectors of children’s ‘innocence’ (Faulkner, 2013; Robinson, 2005, 2008; Robinson & Davies,
2018; Taylor, 2010; Thompson, 2018). The discourse of childhood-as-innocence,
and dramatically” (p. 10). He explains that moral entrepreneurs consciously exploit this potential as they work to gain and maintain public support.
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therefore, “is foundational to the regulatory social practices operating about children and young people in Western contexts” (Robinson & Davies, 2018, p. 21). This regulation of young people’s access to knowledges about gender and sexual diversity can be seen in the examples of censorship relating to Gayby Baby and SSCA discussed above. In a broad social context where inclusion of GSD knowledges in school curricula and practices can lead to moral panic, questions are raised as to how
GSD families might be positioned within schools. In educational contexts, there is significant potential for invisibility, silencing and misrecognition of GSD families.
The experiences of GSD parents participating in this study are nested within the broader socio-political background discussed in this section. Dominant norms are privileged in schools even though these spaces reflect ever increasing diversity
(Keddie, 2012). Moreover, “classrooms and schools continue to perpetuate the inequities of the broader social world” (Keddie, 2012, p. 4). These inequities can be seen in the broader social commentary which positions GSD parented families as inferior to traditional nuclear families and as harmful to children. Similarly, moral panics about the inclusion of GSD knowledges and representations in schools can lead to repressive policy, creating inequitable schooling experiences for GSD students, teachers, and families. As such, examining the experiences of GSD parents in schools represents an important area of research
Australian Statistics: GSD Parented Families.
Statistical reporting of GSD parented families within Australia is limited.
However, there is some data available. The Australian Census of Population and
Housing (hereafter referred to as “Census”) provides some insight into the number of children reported as living in same-sex couple families. Statistically there has been a significant increase in same-sex parented households over the past 20 years. In 2016,
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the Census recorded 10,500 children under the age of 25 living in families headed by same-sex couples, more than triple the number reported in 2001 (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2013). Of the 2016 group, 80% of children were under the age of 15
(Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2018a). The children referred to in these statistics include biological children of one partner as a result of previous opposite-sex relationships, children adopted or fostered within same-sex relationships and those conceived with the assistance of reproductive technologies (Australian Bureau of
Statistics, 2013). The increase in reported same-sex parented families over time may be, in part, attributed to a greater willingness for disclosure based on the perception that same-sex relationships are now more acceptable in society. However, it is likely that better access to reproductive technologies, legislative changes and active recruitment by foster agencies (de Vaus, 2004; Dempsey, 2014; Short, Riggs,
Perlesz, Brown, & Kane, 2007) have actually impacted on the number of GSD families that exist as well. In the 2016 Census, female same-sex couples with children overwhelmingly outweighed the number of male same-sex couples who reported having children (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2018a). This is not surprising given the limited available pathways for same-sex attracted men to plan for a family in Australia (Dempsey, 2013). While families headed by same-sex couple parents are able to be counted in the Census due to questions about gender and relationships between household members, there is no data representing same- sex attracted single parent families as no data is collected in relation to respondents’ sexual identities (Masanauskas, 2013). Further, the Census does not collect appropriate data to be able to report on the number of children being raised within diverse queer family constellations, such as polyamorous or co-parenting families
(Dempsey, 2013). This means that many sexuality diverse families who sit outside a
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homonormative family structure will have been rendered invisible within these statistics.
With regard to gender diverse parenting, there are even fewer statistics. Up until 2016, there was no way to report that one identified as gender diverse via the
Census (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2018b) and, as such, no census data about gender diversity was collected prior to this time. In 2016, the option to identify as sex and/or gender diverse5 was introduced to Census data collection. However, this option was not provided in the regular Census questions, rather, respondents who wished to be counted as gender diverse were required to take additional steps by requesting and submitting a supplementary form (Australian Bureau of Statistics,
2018b). The number of people who undertook this additional step was 1260, but of course we have no way of knowing whether this represents the community who identify as sex and/or gender diverse because of the methodology used as well as other limitations (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2018c). Medicare records hold some data with regard to gender diverse parenting by providing records about men who give birth. These records indicate that 169 males gave birth to children across
2014, 2016, and 2017 (Maiden, 2014; Rapana, 2018), potentially providing information about the number of transgender males who have given birth in recent times. However it is important to note that this data does not reflect parents who have transitioned gender after birth, nor those whose gender identity exists outside the binary, such as parents who may identify as agender, non-binary or gender-queer.
5 The Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) states that “sex refers to a person’s biological characteristics and gender refers to the way a person identifies their masculine or feminine characteristics” (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2018b, para. 4). According to the ABS, persons who identify as ‘intersex’ would therefore be understood as ‘sex diverse’. Persons who identify as non- binary or transgender, for instance, would be represented by the term ‘gender diverse’. It is important to note here that some individuals may identify as both sex and gender diverse. More than a third (440 out of 1260) of respondents who submitted the sex and/or gender diverse supplementary form did not define their sex and/or gender diversity according to any category.
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The data about gender diversity and parenting within Australia is therefore very limited.
It can be seen then that while there is some information about GSD families, clear data about the number of GSD parented families in Australia is not available.
Census data, however, suggests that the number of same-sex parented families in
Australia is increasing. Further, as recognition and visibility of gender diversity is also increasing, it is likely that gender diverse parenthood is also increasing. Given the increasing social and legal recognition of same-sex relationships and gender diversity in Australia in recent years, as well as the fact that moral panic still surrounds issues related to this area, this research project is set within a politically and socially complex context. Through a narrative approach, the project has sought to examine the reported experiences of GSD parents in primary schools. The research design and associated research questions comprising this study will now be discussed.
Studying GSD families
This study explored the reported experiences of GSD parents in primary schools. It is hoped this exploration may provide the foundation for new ways to think about how to create spaces of safety and belonging for GSD parents, and their children, in schools.
The study involved 12 GSD parents across seven families located in Meanjin6
(Brisbane), Queensland. All participants had at least one child who was currently or had recently been enrolled in primary school. The project focused on parents of primary school children for a number of reasons. First, previous research has shown
6 'Meanjin' is the Turrbal name for the part of Turrbal Country on which Brisbane was built
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that the transition from early-childhood settings to primary school can be challenging for GSD parented families (Davies & Robinson, 2013). Second, children in the early- childhood and primary sectors are constructed as “innocent” and not ready for knowledges about gender and sexual diversity, leading to an expectation that schools be asexual environments (Carlile & Paechter, 2018; Epstein et al., 2003; King, 2004;
Robinson, 2008) thereby creating potential challenges with regard to visibility for
GSD parents in these sites. Finally, research has shown that relationships with, and engagement of, parents in prior-to-school settings and the early primary years influence children’s success in school and later life (Epstein, 2011; OECD, 2011).
This study drew on a narrative inquiry approach and as such respects the ordinary, lived experiences of participants and drawing on their stories to explore research questions (Barkhuizen, Benson, & Chik, 2014; Clandinin, 2013). Although narrative inquiry involves sharing participants’ stories, the co-constructedness of narratives is also acknowledged and in order to achieve this I have drawn on a poststructural approach to narrative inquiry. As such, I use dialogic/performative narrative analysis in analysing data for the project.
The research questions that underpinned this study are:
1. What are the reported experiences of GSD parents in primary school settings in Queensland, given that schools can be spaces that reinforce heterosexuality and fixed, binary notions of gender as ‘normal’?
2. What do GSD parents report to be the enablements and constraints of primary school education practices as they parent in GSD families?
3. What are the implications of these enablements and constraints for GSD parents and their families in primary schools?
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Terminology: Representing GSD people
Terminology relating to the field of gender and sexual diversity is varied, and rapidly changing. Further to this, different disciplines and theoretical perspectives use different terminology. Here I draw on the discipline of sociology and a queer theoretical frame to explain the decisions I have made in naming people or groups of people throughout this thesis.
The terms gender and sexuality diverse (GSD), diverse genders and sexualities, sexual diversity, and gender diversity are frequently employed throughout this thesis.
These terms are current and recognise the fluidity of gender and sexual identity by not drawing on identity categories. This choice reflects that fluidity, rather than fixedness, is an important aspect of queer theory. I initially chose to use same-sex attracted and gender diverse (SSAGD), however, in alignment with the literature and to allow for a broader range of sexual identities I later shifted my terminology to
GSD. Sometimes, in addition to GSD, I also use the term queer to represent gender and sexual diversity combined. It is important to note that while queer is used, some individuals dislike this term due to the degrading ways it has been used in the past.
As such, I use the term fairly minimally in this thesis. However, it is worth noting that queer has been reclaimed as part of an empowerment process within some sections of the community.
From a queer theoretical perspective, sexual categories of identity, such as lesbian and gay, are problematic. This is because categories can be, and often are, constructed as fixed with boundaries that cannot be transgressed, and this can reify and reproduce norms and inequalities (Cohen, 1997; Sullivan, 2003). In order to reflect the queer theoretical lens used in this project, I have limited the use of identity categories as much as possible. Categories such as lesbian, gay, transgender and
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initialisms such as LGBT are sometimes used in this document, particularly within the literature review to correctly report on findings of previous studies, or when labelling a person’s sexual or gender identity is important to clarity in reporting, discussion or analysis. However, I have used these terms as sparingly as possible because they represent fixed categories. Although I minimise the use of identity labels, there are times where I speak specifically about transgender parents, also referred to as trans parents, in order to acknowledge that an experience may be uniquely different to, perhaps, a gender diverse individual who identifies as non- binary or agender. It is also important to note that I respect and acknowledge the diverse ways in which parent participants identified themselves, and where appropriate have used these terms as well.
As well as individual categories of identity, multiple initialisms exist describing groups and communities which draw upon identity categories. These include, but are not limited to: LGBTQ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and
Queer); LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender); LGBTI (Lesbian, Gay,
Bisexual, Transgender, Intersex), LGBTIQ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender,
Intersex, and Queer); LGBTIQAP (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Intersex,
Queer, Asexual, and Pansexual); and initialisms which use a plus sign, such as in
LGBTIQ+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Intersex and Queer, with the plus sign representing inclusion of all other gender and sexuality categories, recognising it is not possible to provide an exhaustive list because identity categories are forever evolving). The terminology used relates to complex ideas and diverse arguments.
When talking about community, I tend to use queer community or LGBTIQ+ community. I have chosen the initialism of LGBTIQ+ as it is commonly used to
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describe community – with a + sign to prevent discursively limiting the identities that are included.
When discussing parents in this study, I am referring to caregivers of children in whatever capacity that may be. The term parents includes, but is not limited to foster parents, adoptive parents, biological parents, step-parents, co-parents, caregivers, and legal guardians. An inclusive view of the term parents underpins every facet of this study.
At this point, it is also important to define heteronormativity and cisnormativity. These concepts are examined in detail as theoretical constructs later in this document, however, as this terminology is used within the literature review, it is worth clarifying these concepts briefly here. Heteronormativity refers to an invisible, yet pervasive, idea within society that heterosexual desire and relationships are natural and/or normal (Warner, 1993). This idea positions diverse sexualities as abnormal, unnatural, and deviant. Cisnormativity normalises and naturalises the idea that each person’s assigned sex matches their gender (Bauer et al., 2009). This concept is underpinned by notions that there are just two genders, male and female, and that sex and gender are immoveable and cannot change. Cisnormativity Others gender diverse persons and creates erasure and silencing of gender diversity.
Researcher’s Standpoint
My interest in this study is grounded in my own particular experiences with regard to gender, sexuality, and schooling contexts. As a teacher, I have navigated schools with an understanding of myself initially as straight and, later, as sexuality diverse. In this shift, I became aware of the heteronormativity generated within schools and the silencing and invisibility of sexual diversity within these spaces. In my awareness that some people view sexual diversity as a dangerous knowledge and
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as destructive to childhood innocence, I found myself policing my speech and representations in the classroom. In working through my analysis for this project, I came to understand subjection (Butler, 1997b) and that in this process I was not only constrained by discourses that produce diverse sexualities in particular ways, but I was also part of the construction of these discourses. During this time, I also came to understand that geographical location can also impact on managing one’s visibility and ‘outness’, as I was teaching in a remote area of Queensland.
I initially became interested in considering the journey of same-sex parents in schools in 2011 when reflecting on my own experiences. Given that sexual diversity can be rendered invisible in schools and heterosexuality silently reinforced, I wondered how same-sex parented families would navigate these spaces, particularly as parents can experience inequitable power relations in school settings. At this time, same-sex parents were a central focus in the debate about same-sex marriage in
Australia and beyond. Many who argued against same-sex marriage drew on conceptualisations of the nuclear family as ideal and same-sex parented families as harmful to children. The voices of same-sex parents were often missing in these debates and I became interested in hearing and understanding their stories. I am an insider with regard to sexual diversity, and in this position I bring experience of knowing what it is like navigating schooling spaces with heterosexual privilege as well as without.
While I am an insider in relation to diverse sexualities, I am an outsider with regard to gender diversity as I identify as a cisgender woman. My partner is gender diverse (I note this with their permission) and I have some gender diverse friends, however while I can be an ally, there really is no way for me to fully comprehend my cisgender privilege. In learning from the people I care about who identify as gender
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diverse, I have found I have needed to unlearn and undo much with regard to the normative discourses of gender through which I have been subjectivated. I am still very much a learner, and the undoing of gender norms (Butler, 2004) is likely a life- long process.
In addition to being an outsider with regard to gender diversity, I am also an outsider with regard to parenting. However, I am an insider with regard to schooling contexts. I bring more than ten years’ experience of teaching early-childhood and primary aged children in schools and engaging with parents in this capacity. I have a passion for creating inclusive, welcoming, encouraging, and safe schooling spaces.
For me, this study has been about creating a safe space, a “protected enclave”
(Vincent, 2000, p. 63) where GSD parents can voice their experiences and perspectives in relation to their children’s schools as well as schooling practices. My hope is that this project will assist in understanding the ways in which power and privilege can function in relation to GSD parents and families in schools.
Significance of the Study
This study is significant in that it examines some of the experiences, constraints and enablements reported by Queensland GSD parents as they navigate their children’s primary schools. Although there is a growing body of research in relation GSD issues in education, there is limited research relating to GSD parents navigating educational contexts. The largest study to date, Involved, invisible, ignored: The experiences of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) parents and their children in our nation’s K-12 schools (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008), was undertaken in the United States (US) more than ten years ago. This research surveyed 588 LGBT parents with a child/ren in Grades K-12, and 254 children in middle or high school with at least one LGBT parent. It is notable that only 2% of
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parent participants involved in the study identified as transgender. This statistic reflects that research examining the experiences of gender diverse parents navigating their children’s schools is extremely limited in the literature. There is some psychological research relating to GSD parents navigating educational contexts in the US, however this is limited (Goldberg, 2014; Goldberg, Allen, Black, Frost, &
Manley, 2018; Goldberg, Black, Manley, & Frost, 2017; Goldberg, Black, Sweeney,
& Moyer, 2017; Goldberg & Smith, 2014a, 2014b). Similarly, there is limited sociological research on this topic both internationally (see for example Carlile &
Paechter, 2018; Taylor, 2011) and within Australia. Much of the Australian research examining parent experiences in educational contexts is located within early- childhood settings (Cloughessy & Waniganayake, 2014, 2015; Skattebol & Ferfolja,
2007), however some Australian research considers educational settings beyond early-childhood (Lindsay et al., 2006; Pallotta-Chiarolli, 2010). Davies and Robinson
(2013) note that the transition from early-childhood settings to primary schools can be challenging for GSD parented families, and so there is a great need to better understand how best to support such families in primary settings. In addition to adding to the limited research relating to GSD parents in navigating schools, this study is significant in that it considers the experiences of GSD parents in primary schools within Queensland. Most existing Australian studies are situated within New
South Wales, Victoria and South Australia, contexts which may arguably be qualitatively different to those in Queensland. It is clear then that this project is significant in that it adds to the limited body of Queensland, Australian and international research examining the experiences of GSD parents as they navigate their children’s schools.
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There are a number of contextual factors influencing the significance of this study. In recent years, same-sex marriage has been a significant focus of global political debate, with several countries, including the US, Ireland, and Australia, passing same-sex marriage legislation. Within debates about same-sex marriage in
Australia, there has been considerable commentary focused on same-sex parenting and the perceived negative impacts on children that might result from same-sex marriage. Gender diversity has gained greater visibility in recent years, and this increased visibility has resulted in greater recognition but also greater moral panic.
Publicly, moral entrepreneurs have expressed fears that same-sex marriage will inevitably result in the inclusion of GSD knowledges in schools. These fears are grounded in the construction of schools as non-sexualised spaces that are required to reinforce the status quo, where childhood innocence is considered to be at risk should anything outside the norms of heterosexuality and normative notions of gender be visible. Statistics show there is a greater number of same-sex parented families in
Australia than ever before. Given the increasing numbers of sexuality diverse families and increasing visibility of gender diversity at a time when tensions have been rising regarding the inclusion of GSD knowledges in schools, the experiences of GSD parents in schools unfold against a unique and contemporary context.
Last, this research is also significant as I have taught in schools while identifying as both heterosexual and sexuality diverse. In this shift, I experienced changes in the regulation of my relationships and being. I therefore bring a unique understanding to this project because I have experience in navigating educational contexts both with sexual privilege and without.
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Structure of Thesis
There are eight chapters in this thesis. The first chapter has outlined the historical and socio-political background to the study. Questions at the centre of this study have been presented and terminology choices explained. Finally, researcher positioning and the significance of the study were discussed. Chapter 2 provides a review of related literature. Although there is only limited literature relating to the experiences of GSD parents in educational settings, ten themes relating to parent experiences evident in the literature are explored. Particularly relevant in this section are notions of family-school partnerships and underlying power relations. Further, this chapter examines constructions of the nuclear family as normal and natural, laying important groundwork for this thesis. The theoretical framework underpinning the study, that being queer theory, is explained in Chapter 3. Chapter 4 describes narrative inquiry as the methodological approach employed in the study. I explain the chosen approach of dialogic/performative narrative analysis which provided me with the means to understand narratives as contextual, and to interrogate local and societal contexts in analysis. In the next three chapters I present the data analysis of the study.
I focused on three nested levels of analysis within the study, that is, those of broader society, schools, and families. In Chapter 5, I draw on political, public, and media commentary and texts at three points of time during the same-sex marriage debate to examine discourses which position GSD parented families as unintelligible, unrecognisable, and inferior to nuclear family formations. This chapter also provides important background and context for the following two data chapters which draw on data collected from 12 GSD parents who discussed their experiences of navigating their children’s schools with me. In Chapter 6, I examine the discursive
(re)production of family as ‘nuclear’ in schools through the mum/dad binary, while
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in Chapter 7, I explore narratives of visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility identified within the interviews. In Chapter 8, I discuss the implications and conclusions of the study. I claim that GSD parents and families interrupt nuclear norms in schools, however, this does not always result in an easy integration of new norms about family in these spaces. I contend that schools play a significant role in the (re)production of normative notions of family as nuclear and that this can create labour for GSD parents as they engage with their children’s schools.
Conclusion
The numbers of children reported as living with same-sex parent couples in
Australia increased more than three-fold between the 2001 and 2016 Census reporting. This, along with increasing visibility of gender diversity within society, demonstrates that there is significance in exploring the experiences of this population. The socio-political context that GSD parents navigate in their day-to-day lives is a political space. Both politically and in traditional and social media, GSD parents, individuals and communities have been regularly subject to debate about their validity and acceptability, and this provides an important backdrop for this study. Furthermore, the inclusion of GSD representations and knowledges in schools is a contentious issue and raises the question of what it might be like for GSD parents navigating these spaces. In this study, I utilise a poststructural approach to narrative inquiry and ask what are the experiences, enablements and constraints of GSD parents as they navigate primary school settings. This study is significant as it adds to a limited, but growing, field of study in relation to the experiences of GSD parents in educational contexts. As a queer identifying person with teaching experience in primary schools I bring a unique perspective to this study.
Chapter 1: “It’s Called a Human Being”: The Politics of Gender, Sexuality, and Family 24
Having introduced the study here, I move now to review the literature relevant to this research. In doing so, I explore the nuclear construction of families, parent engagement and family-school relationships, as well as literature specifically related to the experiences of GSD parents in educational settings.
Chapter 1: “It’s Called a Human Being”: The Politics of Gender, Sexuality, and Family 25
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement:
A Review of the Literature
GSD parents have long raised their children in a context in which their lives, relationships and families have been debated, politicised, and governed. Despite increasing numbers of GSD parents in Australia, many government agencies remain unprepared for GSD parented families (Davies & Robinson, 2013). Given this context of complexity, and that schools are spaces in which heterosexuality and fixed, binary notions of gender can be reinforced as ‘normal’ (DePalma & Atkinson,
2010; DePalma & Jennett, 2010; Ferfolja, 2007a; Renold, 2003, 2006; Ullman &
Ferfolja, 2015), it is critical that we know more about the lived experiences of GSD parents and their children as they navigate schools and schooling. (DePalma &
Atkinson, 2010; DePalma & Jennett, 2010; Ferfolja, 2007a; Renold, 2003, 2006;
Ullman & Ferfolja, 2015), it is important to consider the experiences of GSD parents as they navigate their children’s schools. Furthermore, as parental engagement influences children’s school and life outcomes (Constantino, 2003; Emerson, Fear,
Fox, & Sanders, 2012; Epstein, 1995; OECD, 2011; Pushor, 2019), it is essential to understand how schools can create spaces of safety, inclusion and belonging for GSD parents and families.
This chapter grounds the thesis within existing literature and is organised in three key sections. GSD parented families have regularly been constructed as inferior to nuclear families in debates within the broader socio-political context. As these arguments have often positioned the nuclear family as the ‘correct’ form of family, I begin this chapter with an examination of the construction of the nuclear family as normal and natural. The aim is to provide insight into the histories of the construction
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 27
of the nuclear family over time, including ways in which this family form has been naturalised and positioned as superior. This section also reflects on a number of different theories from the Western tradition that have been built on and helped to normalise understandings of gender, sex, sexuality, and family.
Following this, I examine the concept of parent engagement, which is established as a strong influence on children’s wellbeing and educational outcomes
(Constantino, 2003; Emerson et al., 2012; Epstein, 1995; OECD, 2011). Authentic parent engagement is underpinned by strong, reciprocal family-school partnerships
(Daniel, 2011, 2015; Dockett & Perry, 2014). The ways in which parents are positioned in schools are embedded within a long history and, in recent times, parent engagement has become a major focus of government education policy. Parent engagement can be enacted in ways that serve the school’s agenda, and thus represents a mechanism through which power functions to privilege some parent groups and marginalise others. Given that schools are spaces in which heteronormativity, cisnormativity and notions of childhood-as-innocence operate
(DePalma & Jennett, 2010; Robinson, 2013; Robinson & Davies, 2008), there is potential for complexities and misrecognition in the relationships GSD parents have with schools.
In the final section of this chapter, I outline themes in the limited range of literature relating to the experiences of GSD parents navigating their child/ren’s educational settings. There are many considerations for GSD parents as they make decisions about their children’s schooling, such as choosing an appropriate school and thinking through disclosure of their family structure. Further, the operation of heteronormativity and cisnormativity in schools means there may be invisibility and silence about GSD identities and family structures in policy, language, and
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 28
curriculum. In this environment, many GSD parents worry about their children’s safety and wellbeing, particularly as some GSD families do experience hostility and discrimination in schools. Discussion about the literature in relation to these aspects provides an important grounding for considering the experiences of GSD parents in primary schools.
The Construction of Nuclear Families as Normal and Natural
The broader socio-political context in which GSD families operate has often drawn on normative notions of family as nuclear to position diverse families in hierarchical ways. These discourses construct families headed by cisgendered, opposite-sexed, biological parents living in the same household as their children as
‘natural’ and ‘normal’ and other forms of family as inferior in comparison. While discourses which normalise and idealise the nuclear structure often position this family form as ‘natural’, it represents just one of many types of family that have existed throughout history and in modernity. Although the nuclear form of family has been upheld as a “moral blueprint for a successful life” (Carrington, 2002, p. 9), it is underpinned by sexism, gender inequality, racism, classism, political ideologies, and conservatism (Bernardes, 1999; Carrington, 2002; Coontz, 2016).
The construction of the nuclear family as normal and natural draws on conceptions of the Western bourgeois family of the 19th century as “the model for normality, maturity, civilisation, and the economy”, where the mother’s role is constructed as nurturer and the father’s role as provider and disciplinarian (Bloch,
2003, p. 205). The bourgeoise were economically autonomous through inheritance, proceeds from estates, or white-collared employment, and differed from other models of Western family, such as the European aristocracy and peasantry of the
16th and 17th centuries and working class families of the early industrial revolution
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 29
(Bloch, 2003; Poster, 1978). Differences between these family types existed on multiple levels, such as children’s exposure to sexuality, emotional family connectedness, forms of disciplining children, centrality of children to family life, the construction of childhood, and the role of women in relation to domestic duties and childcare (Davidoff & Hall, 2018; Poster, 1978). These variances demonstrate that historically, the nuclear family represents just one particular construction of family and kinship, with other ways of doing family evident across history as well.
The bourgeois family form represented a shift to family and home as “a private micro-world, a sanctum into whose hallowed chambers no outsider had a right of entry” (Poster, 1978, p. 170). The privacy of the bourgeois family, which is reflected in modern day Western conceptions of family, resulted from, in part, industrialisation and changes to the capitalist economy which led men to work in external places of business as the home shifted from a place of production to a space of leisure and family relations (Aries, 1960; Poster, 1978). This shift also reflected changes with regard to governance, something Donzelot (1980) describes as the “transition from a government of families to a government through the family” [italics added] p. 92). In other words, an outcome of this autonomy was that families became a mechanism of the State, conveying norms to maintain the social order, and becoming responsible for the morality and social impacts of its members (Donzelot, 1980).
Child protection laws reflecting changing conceptions of childhood, such as compulsory education and other familial policies introduced in the 19th century, further demonstrated the family as a mechanism of governance. During this period, working class families became subject to greater surveillance and public intervention in relation to family matters (Donzelot, 1980; Poster, 1978). Further, moral standards were imposed on the working class by philanthropic bourgeoisie through providing
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instruction in relation to modern techniques of child rearing, as well as limiting hours of work for both women and children (Poster, 1978). Each of these aspects saw the working class gradually shift toward the bourgeois nuclear model of family over time. Thus, rather than the nuclear family reflecting the ‘natural’ family form, it can be understood historically as a governing mechanism for maintaining social order through the family in particular, classed ways.
There are specific characteristics evident within the bourgeois family form, many of which are also reflected in idealised notions of the nuclear family. The bourgeois family functioned through a patriarchal system in which authority lay with the man/father of the household, who also controlled economic resources (Davidoff
& Hall, 2018). By contrast, women were isolated and concerned exclusively with homemaking and child rearing (D’Cruze, 1995; Poster, 1978). Clear sex role definitions were evident in bourgeois families based on notions of a ‘natural’ biology that corresponded with gendered roles (Bloch, 2003; Carrington, 2002; Poster, 1978).
Women were viewed as having particular ‘natural’ mothering qualities, including a
‘natural’ type of maternal love, one that involved nurturing, caregiving, and a deep emotional bond with children that was believed to assist in shaping the child’s inner, moral compass (Davidoff & Hall, 2018; Poster, 1978). Fathers, however, had minimal involvement with child rearing and their role reflected that of economic provider, disciplinarian, and ultimate power and authority in the home (Poster, 1978).
Many of these notions of innate, ‘complementary’ female and male qualities which feed into mother and father roles are evident within arguments circulating today which idealise nuclear families above other types. These arguments include those that warn of confusion and poor outcomes for children of GSD parented families, grounded in notions that the nuclear family is ‘natural’ and ‘normal’. However, as
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has been seen, the construction of the nuclear family is both sexual and gendered and is steeped in the histories and values of white, middle class families.
Particular Western sociological and psychological discourses have likewise contributed to discourses of the nuclear family as natural, normal, and ideal. It is also important to note that the framing of family as nuclear has also enabled these theories. The sociological and psychological theories I refer to gained broad acceptance in the 20th century. Freud’s (1977) developmental theories of psychosexual stages, for instance, contain a stage which suggests that children develop ‘appropriate’ gender and sexual identity through an unconscious process of sexual desire for their opposite sexed parent, and hostility toward the parent of like sex. This is known as the Oedipal Complex and signifies a notion that two opposite sexed parents are required for appropriate gender and sexual development (Freud,
1977). The Oedipal Complex has been critiqued by poststructuralists and queer theorists, including Butler (2007 [1990]), in that it forecloses (and therefore regulates) sexuality and constructs heterosexuality as the ideal. This concept, therefore, has contributed to notions that mother/father families are essential to children’s gender and sexual development, underpinned by heteronormativity and cisnormativity.
Structural functionalism, a sociological theory which has developed from the thinking of theorists such as Spencer and Durkheim, also argued the importance of nuclear families, but in a different way (Carrington, 2002; Merton, 1968). This theoretical framework was dominant in the 1950s and 1960s (Gilding, 2020) and, although since criticised for normalising oppressive social structures as well as putting forward universalised notions of family, assumptions underpinning structural functionalism continue to shape family studies and sociology of the family today
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 32
(Kingsbury & Scanzoni, 2009; Kitchen, 2016). The theory is also seen as inadequate in explaining change. Structural functionalists drew on essentialist notions of gender to suggest that children needed both male and female role models in order to develop as stable individuals. Parsons (1959), who was highly notable in the field, argued that the role of men was that of provider and disciplinarian, while women were responsible for nurturing and rearing children. He contended that in observing parents adhering to these gendered roles, children would develop the same gendered behaviours as their parents and model them to the next generation, with positive effects on social stability. Structural functionalists contended that individual stability led to a stable society (Carrington, 2002; Robinson & Diaz, 2016). They believed that without a balance of ‘appropriate’, opposite-sex role models children were at risk of developing particular pathologies, that is, anti-social and ‘deficit’ behaviours
(Carrington, 2002). This, in turn, could lead to a destabilisation of society. These ideas are reflected in notions that same-sex marriage, as well as same-sex and gender diverse parenting in general, both confuse children and signify the beginning of the downfall of society.
Social Darwinism has also perpetuated the idea of the nuclear family as ideal, however the focus within this framework is at the level of culture (Carrington, 2002).
From this perspective, the nuclear family is viewed as a natural outcome of progress and industrialisation, positioning Western culture as elevated and in binary opposition to pre-industrialised and Eastern cultures which may be characterised by extended family structures (Carrington, 2002). In other words, the nuclear family has served as a mechanism for power to elevate Western and white culture in that it positions societies based on the nuclear family as advanced and further progressed.
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Lastly, woven throughout time are doctrines and discourses of the Christian
Churches over more than one and a half millennia, which encouraged loyalty to the church, rather than the extended family (Carrington, 2002; Schulz, Bahrami-Rad,
Beauchamp, & Henrich, 2018). Christian doctrines have legitimised and naturalised
“a patriarchal nuclear family formation” that has diminished “the legal and social rights of women and wives” (Carrington, 2002, p. 30). The Church, therefore, taught that it was a woman’s sacred duty to cherish one’s husband, as well as to submit to them (Stone, 2016 [1975]). Within bourgeois households, the father was considered to be the “exemplified external authority and the Fatherhood of God; and… usually controlled economic resources” (Davidoff & Hall, 2018, p. 329). The nuclear family, therefore, also draws on a Christian patriarchal model in which males are positioned hierarchically as superior to women.
The nuclear family, far from being the ‘natural’ form of family it is often purported to be in conservative and religious-right discourses, is grounded in specific political, social, cultural, and economic conditions, values, ideologies, and histories.
This form of family elevates hegemonic white, patriarchal, middle-class, heterosexual, cisnormative ideologies as superior and ideal. The normalisation and idealisation of the nuclear model has led to the association of caregiving, nurturing and emotionality with ‘natural’ mothering and positioned divorced and single mothers as ‘abnormal’ (Bloch, 2003). In addition to constructing motherhood in particular ways, these discourses have led to disparate notions of normal and abnormal families and have positioned families from culturally, linguistically and racially diverse backgrounds as uneducated and inferior (Bloch, 2003). Given that white, middle-class, two-parented, cisgendered, heterosexual headed families are constructed as ideal, this can provide a space where GSD parented families are
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 34
positioned as unintelligible and inferior. As schools are considered to be sites which commonly (re)produce heteronormative and cisnormative notions of gender and sexuality, there is potential for the nuclear family to be (re)produced as normal and natural within schooling contexts. The ways in which family is viewed and produced in schools have the potential to impact on the experiences of GSD families as they engage with and develop relationships with schools. The literature on parent engagement and family-school relationships will now be discussed.
Parent Engagement and Family-School Relationships
Parent engagement is widely considered to be an essential component to positive schooling experiences for families as well as to children’s outcomes, particularly with regard to partnerships in prior-to-school settings and the early primary years (Epstein, 2011; OECD, 2011). The term parent engagement is multifaceted and conceptualised in diverse ways across the literature. Further, multiple terms are used to represent the concept of parent engagement, including parent involvement, school-parent engagement, school-parent partnerships, and family-school relationships. In this study, I take up a common conceptualisation of parent engagement in the literature as differing from notions of involvement. By this
I mean that whereas parent involvement relates to parents participating in activities initiated by schools, such as helping in the classroom, parent engagement can be envisioned as a more participatory process (Dockett & Perry, 2014; Epstein, 2018;
Reynolds, 2010; Snell, 2018). Authentic parent engagement encourages families and educators to share responsibility in working toward common goals which foster children’s learning and wellbeing, and is underpinned by more equitable processes in which parent voices are valued (Pushor, 2012). As such, the ways in which schools approach family-school relationships strongly influence parent engagement.
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 35
Parent engagement has a range of positive effects on children’s education.
Research shows that parent engagement improves educational programs, creates positive effects on school climate, develops connections between families, enhances children’s wellbeing, and provides support (Epstein, 1995). Perhaps the most cited reason for developing strong family-school partnerships, however, is that research has shown these relationships assist students to succeed, both in school and beyond, on multiple levels, including academically, socially and emotionally, motivationally, and in adapting to society (Constantino, 2003; Emerson et al., 2012; Epstein, 1995;
OECD, 2011). Thus, parent engagement is considered to be an essential foundational component of children’s schooling.
Historically, parents have not always been positioned as important partners in children’s education. In the next subsection, I discuss how parents have historically been positioned within schools in order to ground the discussion within historical discourses, as well as exploring current policy positioning to bring context to this study.
Historical and current policy context of parent engagement in schools. The relationships between families and schools have been positioned differently over time. Schooling in Australia during the early 19th century tended to be government assisted and a prominent discourse in early colonisation reflected notions of “the virtuous school in opposition to reprehensible, irresponsible parents”, representing aspects of classism in relation to the labouring class and convict children (Campbell & Proctor, 2014, p. 57). Further, the Bigge Inquiry which was tasked to provide comment on the state of the Colony (carried out between 1819 and
1821), reflected antagonistic views toward parents, proclaiming that only through comprehensive schooling could “the influence of the bad habits of the parents be
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 36
successfully resisted” (Bigge, 1823, para. 559). These comments characterise the
“anxiety for the moral future of a ‘rising generation’ in a colony founded in part as a prison” (Campbell & Proctor, 2014, p. 248). This anxiety for a ‘moral’ society reflects similar ideologies of 19th century Western Europe in that the introduction of compulsory education represented a way to penetrate the working classes with middle-class social norms (Donzelot, 1980). Thus, during this period, the construction of parents in relation to schooling in Australia reflected specific colonised and classed histories.
The mid-19th century saw the advent of the public, state school system in
Australia (Campbell & Proctor, 2014). The beginning of this period represented a significant era of growth which relied heavily on communities and, accordingly, parents had significant input into the employment of teachers and curriculum content
(Vick, 1994). However, as public schooling became more systematic and universal and “control shifted decisively to newly formed, highly centralised state Education
Departments”, parental rights and decision making lessened (Vick, 1994, p. 12). In part, the exclusion of parents from decision making was based on a perceived incompetence of parents to understand the educational needs of their children, and education was increasingly positioned as a matter for those who were professionally trained (Vick, 1994). This view was strengthened by the rise of the psychological sciences in the early 1900s, as well as sociology in the mid-20th century (Vick,
1994). Thus, at this time, parents were not viewed as an integral part of children’s academic learning journey.
The 1960s and 1970s represented a time across Western contexts of increasing demands for greater public involvement in state institutions and political decision making as confidence in social institutions, such as education, reached a crisis point
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(Vick, 1994; Vincent, 2013 [1996]). Reflecting this trend, the United Kingdom released the Plowden Report in 1967 advocating for greater parental involvement in schools (Vincent, 2013 [1996]). This report represented a major turning point in family-school relations toward including parents in children’s education (Edwards &
Redfern, 2017). The Plowden Report linked parent participation with greater academic achievement and recommended that schools provide opportunities for parents to connect with schools and children’s learning (Central Advisory Council for Education, 1967). Suggestions about how to achieve this included welcome and informational meetings upon enrolment, meetings with teachers, holding school open days, providing an information prospectus to parents, and giving written reports to parents once a year to advise on children’s progress (Central Advisory Council for
Education, 1967). Many of these approaches continue to be evident in schools today.
Although the report represented a shift toward including parents in their children’s education, Vincent (2013 [1996]) argues the recommendations were underpinned by social class bias, with judgements about parental interest based solely on frequency of contact between parents and teachers. Further, she contends the policy was underpinned by expectations that parents would conform to school values and approaches, that is, parental participation occurred only on the school’s terms
(Vincent, 2013 [1996]).
In Australia, in the early 1970s, parent organisations lobbied government for greater decision-making power in schools (Beare, 1993). Reflecting similar sentiments evident in the Plowden Report, the Karmel Report (Interim Committee for the Australian Schools Commission, 1973) about Australian education, released in 1973, postulated that “the quality and extent of parent involvement is vital in student development” (Para 9.16, p. 96). The report suggested that schools should
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 38
“use every opportunity and channel of communication to attract parents”, suggesting that “program discussions, group sessions, parent-teacher evenings and family functions [were] important, as [were] school circulars and newspapers, translated into other languages where necessary” [parentheses added] (Para. 9.16, p. 96).
Dimmock, O'Donoghue, and Robb (1996) argue that, during the late 1960s and
1970s, growing parental involvement in Australian schooling was predicated “on democratic principles through which the right of all education participants might receive greater recognition” (p. 6). Further, this period was characterised by the devolution of centralised governance of education as the federal government intervened in order to encourage educational democracy, community participation and recognition of diversity and plurality within Australian society (Dimmock et al.,
1996). Thus, the late 1960s and early 1970s represented a period of change across
Western industrialised states in which there was a greater focus on equity, recognition of diversity, and parent and community involvement. However, this involvement was founded upon the values and agendas of schools, rather than parents.
The period between the mid-1970s and the new millennium signified a time of marketisation, privatisation and governmentality, underpinned by the “rise of neoliberalism in economic and social policy” (Campbell & Proctor, 2014, p. 212).
Further, increased participation of women in the labour force (de Vaus, 2004) and changes in parental work patterns (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2020) have impacted on parents’ capacity to engage in the schooling of their children. Whereas previously, parents were positioned as helpers and supporters in their children’s education, this period signified a shift in positioning the role of parents to that of
‘consumer’ (Vincent, 2013 [1996]). Vincent (2013 [1996]) argues that in the role of
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 39
‘consumer’, power for parents often exists only in the form of the power to ‘exit’, reflecting economic modelling. This is different to the power of citizenship, in which parents are viewed as democratic partners in education with a valued voice (Vincent,
2000, 2013 [1996]). MacFarlane (2009) contends that “Australian federal government rhetoric has had a particular focus on the importance of parent choice in the marketplace as a means of meeting diverse needs of the community and determining quality in schooling”, reflecting the positioning of parents as consumers
(pp. 563-564). The introduction of MySchool in 2010, a website which allows parents to compare schools according to a number of factors, including national testing scores, also reflects the positioning of parents in this way. This shift to positioning parents as consumers, however, did not mean that parent engagement in education was off the table.
Government interest in family-school partnerships has increased dramatically since the concept was initially raised in the 1960s and 1970s (Castelli & Pepe, 2008), with research linking the importance of these partnerships to children’s learning, outcomes, and wellbeing (Constantino, 2003; Emerson et al., 2012; Epstein, 1995;
OECD, 2011). In 2008, the Australian Government released the Family-School
Partnerships Framework (Australian Government Department of Education, 2008), providing guidance to schools and families regarding developing partnerships. The framework, which continues to form an integral part of government strategy, positions family-school relationships as collaborative and encourages an active approach by schools in initiating and maintaining partnerships between families, schools and communities. The Melbourne Declaration on Educational Goals for
Young Australians (Ministerial Council on Education, 2008), ratified by all state
Education Ministers in 2008 committed to “developing stronger partnerships” with
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 40
parents, carers, families, and communities as one of eight ‘commitments to action’ in order to improve the educational outcomes of young Australians (pp. 10-11). In the most recent version of this document, Alice Springs (Mparntwe) Education
Declaration (Education Council, 2019), this remains a primary commitment.
Similarly, the Students First policy (Australian Government, Department of
Education and Training, 2016), implemented by the Australian Government between
2014 and 2018, listed ‘Parent Engagement’ as one of four key pillars to improve the educational outcomes of young Australians. Parent Engagement is listed as a priority in the Queensland Government Department of Education (2019) Strategic Plan
2019-2023 in two objectives: (i) a great start for all children, and (ii) every student succeeding. This demonstrates the high value that is placed on family-school relationships and parent engagement with regard to children’s educational outcomes in the state. The Queensland Government, Department of Education (2018)
Advancing partnerships: Parent and Community Engagement Framework advocates for parent engagement grounded in authentic and meaningful family-school relationships. It is clear, then, that parent engagement is a clear policy area for state and federal governments in Australia.
Approaches to parent engagement and GSD parents. In examining some of the ways in which parents have been positioned with regard to schooling both historically and in current policy contexts, it is evident that there have been shifts in the ways in which parent engagement has been positioned over time. Epstein (2011), a prominent US scholar in the field of parent engagement, argues that there are three ways in which the relationships between schools and families can be viewed including: (i) seeing the responsibilities of families and schools as separate; (ii) viewing schooling as a shared and collaborative
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 41
responsibility between schools and families, and; (iii) as sequential, where parents are considered responsible for children’s learning until the child enters formal schooling and then the child’s learning becomes the responsibility of teachers
(Epstein, 2011). Each of these approaches is evident across different historical eras in
Australia as outlined earlier.
While there are several approaches to parental engagement, Epstein’s (1995) model is used extensively in this field. Epstein claims that schools, families, and communities overlap in their influence on children. She argues that schools which focus on bringing each of these spheres closer together, with the child at the centre, will create environments in which children feel cared for and are more likely to experience success. This perspective is also reflected in Bronfenbrenner’s (1977,
1986, 1989) social-ecological model of human development which considers “the central role of families and schools, and the relationship between these two sites in children’s development” (Daniel, 2011, p. 167). Epstein (1995, 2011) provides a multidimensional framework, outlining six types of parent involvement in schools that bring together each of these spheres. These are:
1. Parenting: Schools assist parents with skills and knowledge in order to establish home environments that support children in their role as students. Mechanisms for this could include suggestions about optimal learning conditions at home, workshops, messages about child rearing, parent education courses, and home visits.
2. Communicating: Schools create effective ways to ensure two-way communication about children’s progress and school programming. Mechanisms could include parent-teacher conferences, language translators, newsletters, school notices, clear guidelines regarding school policies, report cards.
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 42
3. Volunteering: Schools enlist parents to assist and support school needs and priorities.
4. Learning at home: Schools provide ideas and information about how to assist students at home with learning, curriculum-related activities, homework, planning, and so on.
5. Decision making: Schools include and seek input from parents in school decision making processes and include parents from diverse backgrounds to serve as leaders and representatives. Groups could include parents and citizens associations (P&C), independent lobby groups, and networks linking families.
6. Collaborating with the community: Schools utilise community resources and integrate these in order to support and strengthen schools. Further, they organise events to improve learning for students and are of benefit to the community.
While Epstein’s model is drawn on extensively to inform parent engagement work, it has been critiqued for failing to consider diverse approaches to engaging with families due to its privileging of “middle-class values, parenting styles and ways of being” (Daniel, 2015, p. 120). This means that parent engagement may not represent an equitable process for some parents.
In engaging parents through partnership, even though well intentioned, schools have the potential to (re)produce already existing inequities and privilege. Vincent
(2000), also a long standing authority in the area of parent engagement, warns that partnership can often manifest differently in its implementation from school to school. She claims that often, family-school relationships are imbued by power and do not reflect ‘partnership’ at all, particularly for working class parents and racially minoritised parents (Vincent, 2000, 2013 [1996], 2017). Although Epstein’s (1995) model includes opportunities for decision making and collaboration, there is the
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 43
potential through this model to reinforce parental engagement in relationship to the school’s agenda, thereby marginalising parent knowledges and voices (Pushor, 2012;
Pushor, Ruitenber, & with co-researchers at Princess Alexandra Community School,
2005). Pushor et al. (2005) critique Epstein’s model, stating that:
Parents who are “involved” serve the school’s agenda by doing the things
educators ask or expect them to do – volunteering at school, parenting in
positive ways, and supporting and assisting their children at home with
their schoolwork – while knowledge, voice and decision-making continue
to rest with the educators… Our concern with models for parent
involvement, such as Epstein’s, is that they maintain the hierarchical
structure of schools, where school personnel maintain power and authority,
and the focus remains on what parents can do for the school. (p. 12)
This excerpt reflects an understanding of parent engagement as a reciprocal process grounded in authentic relationships. Further, it provides critique that engagement can form part of the production of power and may actually reify social inequities. It is clear then, that while parent engagement aims to positively influence children’s learning outcomes and wellbeing, there is also potential for engagement to be enacted in normalising ways that do not recognise diversity.
Pushor (2012) and Pushor and Murphy (2010) draw on the concept of the
‘protectorate’ when considering ways in which schools can position parents. This concept draws on Memmi’s (1965) work on colonisation which argues:
Whenever the coloniser states, in his language, that the colonised is a weakling,
he suggests thereby that this deficiency requires protection. From this comes the
concept of a protectorate. (Memmi in Pushor & Murphy, 2010, p. 25)
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 44
Pushor and Murphy (2010) claim that the concept of the ‘protectorate’ is “an apt metaphor for thinking about current school landscapes, and about how educators are positioned on those landscapes to use their professional knowledge of teaching and learning as protectors of children and parents” (p. 25). Schools reproduce and privilege white, middle-class values at an institutional level and this can mean that the perspectives of working class parents, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander parents, and racially minoritised parents can be marginalised (Hayes, Johnston,
Morris, Power, & Roberts, 2009; Pushor & Murphy, 2010). In schools, educators usually determine school programs, materials, educational philosophies, and ways in which policies, routines, and procedures are established and enacted (Pushor &
Murphy, 2010; Vincent, 2017). This work around ‘protectorates’ shows that historical ways of positioning parents are still evident within schools.
While Pushor and Murphy’s (2010) work on protectorates specifically focuses on experiences of North-American Indigenous parents, this concept is useful when thinking about the ways in which discourses of childhood-as-innocence can be utilised to ‘protect’ children from being exposed to diverse genders and sexualities in schools (Robinson, 2013). It is not uncommon for the representation or teaching of
GSD concepts to be positioned as dangerous and predatory, with students constructed as victims in need of protection (Epstein et al., 2003; Robinson, 2005,
2008; Thompson, 2019). In order to ‘protect’ children, schools are constructed as needing to be asexual environments which silently reinforce heterosexuality and normative notions of gender (Blaise, 2009). GSD parents represent a threat to this construction because they interrupt these normative ideologies, even just through their presence (Carlile & Paechter, 2018). The complex ways which schools can
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 45
function to draw a veil around gender and sexual diversity have the potential to impact on family-school relationships experienced by GSD parents.
There are approaches to parent engagement that can assist to interrupt the hierarchical binary of school/parent or teacher/parent. For instance, Pushor’s work in relation to parent engagement (Pushor, 2010, 2012, 2015, 2019; Pushor & Murphy,
2010; Pushor et al., 2005; Pushor & the Parent Engagement Collaborative II, 2015) advocates for authentic two-way family-school relationships where parent knowledges are valued. Similarly, Vincent (2000; 2013 [1996]) suggests a citizenship approach which positions parents as participants in their children’s education at individual, class and school levels. This approach involves parents in governance of the school in authentic ways, as well as in the education of their own child. Vincent (2000) acknowledges, however, that some groups and individuals may be disadvantaged “in terms of the resources they possess, [and] will fail to engage successfully with such a demanding form of citizenship” (p. 16). This means that parents who have intersections in identity such as class and race, may experience greater challenges in being heard within schooling spaces.
The Queensland Government Department of Education (2018) Advancing partnerships: Parent and Community Engagement Framework advocates for parent engagement to be underpinned by authentic and meaningful family-school relationships. In congruence with the discussion about parent engagement thus far, the document defines parent engagement as follows:
Parent engagement extends beyond parent involvement in volunteering at the
school, to having a deliberate focus on influencing and improving learning and
wellbeing outcomes. Parents are provided with ideas and strategies and are
encouraged to collaborate with the school and community to strengthen
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 46
partnerships and directly assist in supporting their child’s learning. Effective
parent engagement creates authentic relationships valued by each party. (p. 3)
The framework encourages “two-way communication between parents and school personnel” and that schools should work to ensure all parents feel valued and able to express their views comfortably with the school (Queensland Government,
Department of Education and Training, 2018, p. 5). It acknowledges the diversity of families in Queensland schools, noting that “diversity should be celebrated and supported through an inclusive culture that promotes the skills and insights of all people irrespective of age, gender, ethnicity, generation, sexual orientation or disability” (Queensland Government, Department of Education and Training, 2018, p. 4). The framework, therefore, provides scope for inclusive practices that allow for authentic two-way engagement with GSD parents. However, there is nothing noted within this document about GSD inclusion beyond this one sentence. Although the
Queensland Department of Education has policies providing information about inclusion of GSD students and staff in Queensland state schools (Queensland
Government, Department of Education and Training, n.d.~a; n.d.~b), there is no specific information provided within this framework or other policy documents to guide inclusive practices with regard to GSD parents in schools. This is an important consideration for this study because it provides a policy background for the exploration of parent experiences with regard to parent engagement.
It is important that schools consider inequitable power relations associated with schooling that could impact negatively on family-school relationships. Given that schools are “seen to reproduce inequalities in society by reiterating and privileging the values, ideals, and aspirations of the dominant groups, making educational participation and success difficult for marginalised groups” (Bottrell & Goodwin,
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 47
2011, p. 22), it seems reasonable that schools and personnel need to be thoughtful about the reproduction of dominant discourses in the development of family-school relationships. When inequitable power relations and privilege are discussed in family-school relationships literature, it is usually in reference to power imbalances experienced by working class and racially minoritised parents (Bottrell & Goodwin,
2011; Vincent, 2013 [1996]). GSD parented families are rarely mentioned in this literature, although research suggests GSD parents may be anxious about ways in which school personnel may react to their family structure (Echevarria-Doan &
Hanney, 2009). Perhaps this is a reflection on the invisibility of privileging the heteronorm and notions of a fixed, cisnormative gender binary of male/female.
Feelings of anxiety of GSD parents regarding school personnel are understandable given the wide range of views reflected in media attention on same-sex marriage and gender diversity in Australia.
Negative or deficit perspectives of gender or sexual diversity on the part of school personnel have the potential to create limitations in the establishment of positive working relationships with GSD parents (Echevarria-Doan & Hanney,
2009). School personnel may knowingly or unknowingly hold deficit views of GSD families grounded in heteronormative or cisnormative notions of family. An example of a teacher with a negative view of same-sex parented families, for instance, was published in 2015 in a regional Queensland newspaper, during the media frenzy which unfolded in response to the intended showing of Gayby Baby in a high school in NSW (Kajewski, 2015). The teacher expressed concern about the effects same-sex marriage would have on his future students, stating that research had shown two opposite-sexed parents provided children with the healthiest upbringing, particularly due to modelling “gender-appropriate behaviour” and assisting children to “adopt a
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positive social identity” (Kajewski, 2015, para. 5). Views such as this reflect a deficit view of same-sex parented family structures and a privileging of the nuclear family, and have the potential to impact on parent teacher relationships.
Due to the pervasiveness of normative discourses, even teachers who do not hold deficit views about GSD parented families may unknowingly reflect heteronormative and cisnormative perspectives (Holmstrom, 2013). In a study of the ways in which
Queensland primary school teachers respond to diverse sexualities, van Leent (2014) found that there are a range of ways teachers respond to such concepts in schools. For instance, several educators involved in the study seemingly lacked confidence in how to address same-sex parents, both as a topic arising in the classrooms and with regard to same-sex parents themselves. Teachers reported their responses to these issues included avoidance of the topic and related language, protection of students with same- sex parents, concerns about the correct use of language, nonchalance, maintenance of home/school boundaries, and embracing diversity. van Leent (2014) argues that when concepts of diverse genders and sexualities arise in class, teachers may draw on
Western constructs, personal beliefs and school influences to make decisions about how best to respond. Teachers have expressed concerns as to how parents might view the ways in which they, as teachers, respond to concepts relating to gender and sexual diversity as they arise in the classroom (van Leent, 2014), demonstrating the prevalence and power of dominant heteronormative and cisnormative discourses in schools. Moreover, “parental surveillance functions as a means of subjection and, hence, as a disciplinary form of power” for teachers, creating pressure for continued silencing of GSD knowledges (Cumming-Potvin and Martino, 2014, p. 314).
It is important to consider that schools and teachers may lack access to professional learning and support in relation to the inclusion of gender and sexual
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diversity in educational contexts. They can feel ill-equipped to respond to such issues and may be fearful about getting it wrong. Davies and Robinson (2013) suggest that it is essential that the whole school community, including children, teachers, parents, carers, and community members, are educated about a wide range of subjugated knowledges. Just as it is essential for schools and educators to be aware of assumptions about aspects such as race, class, and gender, an awareness of assumptions and bias about diverse genders and sexualities is also essential to assist in the development of strong, authentic family-school partnerships. It is essential that teachers and schools are supported and equipped with knowledge in undertaking this journey.
While thinking through the experiences of teachers in this complex field is an important area of research, this research project focuses on the experiences of GSD parents within the context of their children’s schools. The values, perspectives, cultural backgrounds, class, geographies and politics of GSD parents reflect great diversity and it is important not to consider these families as a homogenous group.
These characteristics, combined with school approaches to family-school relationships and potential perspectives of schools and personnel, create unique circumstances for experiences of GSD parented families in schools. This study provides an opportunity to explore some of these diverse experiences in order to better understand how family-school relationships impact on the experiences of GSD families in schools.
Experiences of GSD Parents in Educational Settings
As schools are considered to be sites that reproduce and reinforce heteronormativity and cisnormativity, it is important to examine the experiences of
GSD parents as they navigate the schools their children attend. This topic is
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particularly relevant given the literature has demonstrated the importance of strong family-school partnerships with regard to children’s learning and life successes, as well as the inequitable power relations that may be evident in the heteronormative and cisnormative environments of schools. There is only a small body of literature relating to the experiences of GSD parents in their children’s schools, both internationally and within Australia, although this is growing. As a result, this study makes a significant contribution to the fields of parent engagement, family-school relationships and diverse genders and sexualities in education.
Of the limited research that has been undertaken regarding the experiences of
GSD parents in educational settings, the body of research reflects common themes.
There are a few important aspects to note with regard to these studies before considering these themes. Literature exploring the experiences of same-sex parents navigating prior-to-school and schooling contexts is more prevalent than that of gender diverse parents. While there is a growing body of scholarship about gender diverse identities, experiences, and parenting, there are very few studies which focus on the experiences of gender diverse parents in prior-to-school and school settings.
Although there are several research publications which have focused on the experiences of “LGBT” parents as a group, very little attention is paid to the “T” aspect. Further, studies often involve limited numbers of gender diverse parents and can therefore privilege the narratives of same-sex parents. This may therefore create invisibility about the specific experiences of gender diverse parents in schools. In research examining the experiences of same-sex parents, lesbian participants have greater representation across the research, than do gay men. This could be reflective of greater societal access to reproductive options for lesbian women than for gay men. The majority of Australian studies relating to GSD parents in educational
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 51
contexts are situated in the prior-to-school education and care sector and, as such, there are relatively few studies focusing on the experiences of GSD parents in primary schools. As the transition from early-childhood to formal schooling contexts can be particularly difficult for GSD parented families due to the shift from child- centred approaches to meeting specific educational criteria (Davies & Robinson,
2013), there is significance in locating this study in the primary school sector.
Of the studies undertaken with regard to GSD parent experiences in educational settings (including in early-childhood), most research is qualitative and thus, while providing a rich depth of understanding, cannot provide statistical, quantitative measures of experiences indicating how prevalent certain views are amongst the whole population of GSD parented families. However, Involved,
Invisible, Ignored: The Experiences of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender
(LGBT) Parents and Their Children in Our Nation’s K-12 Schools (Kosciw & Diaz,
2008), the largest study to date exploring the experiences of LGBT parents with children ranging from kindergarten age to Year 12 attending school in the US, provides these measures to some extent. This study was undertaken in the US on behalf of the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network (GLSEN). In the study, researchers surveyed 588 LGBT parents with at least one child in Grades K-12, and
154 children in middle or high school with at least one LGBT parent. Reflecting the point made earlier regarding limitations in research, the survey participants were mostly women, with 17% of the sample identifying as male and just 2% of participants identifying as transgender. There is no mention of those who might identify as non-binary, agender, gender queer, and so on. Survey questions required parents to consider their experiences as members of LGBT parented families in schools. Of the students surveyed, no elementary school aged children participated.
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When discussing themes in the literature pertaining to parental experiences in educational settings in the upcoming subsections, I will provide statistical data from the GLSEN study where relevant. It is important to note that, given this study was conducted more than ten years ago, it is possible that changes have occurred during this timeframe.
In examining the literature, I developed, inductively, the following themes evident within the research in relation to GSD parents and their experiences in educational settings. These themes reflect what is currently known in relationship to the research topic and provide a foundational understanding of the enablements and constraints GSD parents have reported with regard to navigation and engagement with their children’s schools. These themes are: (i) school choice; (ii) disclosure; (iii) school policies/forms; (iv) family-school partnerships; (v) children’s safety and wellbeing; (vi) GSD inclusive curricula and resources; (vii) language; (viii) invisibility, hypervisibility and silencing; (ix) hostility, harassment, homophobia, and transphobia, and; (x) sameness and diversity. Concepts of heteronormativity and cisnormativity represent a lens for analysis and are therefore woven throughout the themes discussed below, rather than treated as separate entities.
School choice. One of the ways in which GSD parents establish a supportive environment for their families is to carefully select a school for their children to attend (Lindsay et al.,
2006). This choice can involve extensive research, including questions about curriculum and the ways in which GSD parented families are represented, asking about how the school manages GSD issues, finding out if there are similarly structured families attending the setting, and seeking recommendations from others
(Kosciw & Diaz, 2008; Lee, 2010; Lindsay et al., 2006). In the GLSEN study
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Involved, Invisible, Ignored (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008), information about how a school manages LGBT matters was significantly more important for parents of elementary school children than those with children in middle or high school, with almost three- quarters of parents stating this was a very important consideration for them, and just over a quarter of parent respondents stating it was somewhat important (Kosciw &
Diaz, 2008). It is important to note, however, that the ability to choose a school can require resources that not all parents have access to and, thus, resourcing and access may influence the experiences parents report.
Disclosure. Disclosure is another common theme within existing research about GSD parents’ navigation of educational settings. Research shows that some same-sex parents choose to disclose their family composition, while others do not, for a variety of reasons. These reasons include beliefs that teacher knowledge of family composition is important, sensitivity to days such as Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, a desire to engender family pride, creating visibility of family make-up due to heterosexual assumptions, and to create a platform of honesty to allow their child to talk about their family freely (Lee, 2010; Skattebol & Ferfolja, 2007). Same-sex parents who choose to disclose their family structure to others do not “come out” just once, rather there is an injunction to come out repeatedly, creating a daily predicament about disclosure without being sure how service providers will react
(Lee, 2010; Riggs & Willing, 2013; Taylor, 2009). In other words, because parents are generally assumed to be heterosexual, same-sex attracted parents either have the choice to be misread as heterosexual or continually find ways to bring up their relationship or sexual identity (Riggs & Willing, 2013, p. 370).
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Not all sexuality diverse parents choose to disclose their sexual identity (Lee,
2010; Lindsay et al., 2006; Pallotta-Chiarolli, 2010), however this decision can also be complicated by the fact that their family may be outed when children talk about their home lives (Taylor, 2009). When those who identify as sexuality diverse choose not to come out, this can be interpreted as dishonest, disempowering or as being related to shame about one’s sexuality (Rasmussen, 2004). However, disclosure is a complex issue and people resist coming out for a variety of reasons, including due to intersections of race, religion, and social class (Rasmussen, 2004). Silence does not automatically equate to oppression, nor does one have to be ‘out’ in order to have agency (Ferfolja, 2007b). It is therefore important not to make assumptions about parent power and agency on the basis of whether they are out to teachers.
The limited research that exists in relation to gender diverse parents suggest that some parents manage their visibility very carefully as a strategy to safeguard their children from discrimination and harassment. For instance, in a study undertaken by Haines, Ajayi, and Boyd (2014) of 50 transgender parents, very few parents reported being out to school administrators and concern about disclosure was shaped by concerns for the wellbeing of family members. In a study examining the experiences of Australian female-to-male transgender people, Jones, deBolger, Dune,
Lykins, and Hawkes (2015) noted mixed responses with regard to disclosure by parents to children about their transgender identity. Of those who had not disclosed, the authors reported that parents were focused on “protecting their children and families from potential discrimination” (p. 120). One such parent in the study shared:
I do not want my child to face ANYTHING I have faced… I can’t change the
opinions of every child at school who may or may not tease my child for having a
parent that is different. But I can make the decision not to tell my child… [that’s]
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one less thing my child will have to deal with at school if the wrong child is told
(Doc79 in Jones, et al., 2015, p. 120).
While there were additional reasons behind non-disclosure in this case, this statement demonstrates that disclosure is a very complex space for gender diverse parents.
These concepts are important to understand when considering ways in which disclosure is approached by GSD parents.
School policy and forms. There is not a great deal of discussion about GSD parents’ experiences of school policy and forms in the literature. Of the few papers discussing this area, it appears that some of the issues for parents in relation to policy and forms relate to lack of recognition of diverse family constellations, heteronormative language on forms, and lack of policy about managing homophobic language and bullying
(Cloughessy & Waniganayake, 2015; Gunn & Surtees, 2011). Sometimes, schools respond to bullying using a resilience framework. In these instances, the mistreatment of students belonging to GSD parented families can be positioned in such a way as to expect children to successfully manage difficult situations, such as bullying, on their own (Davies & Robinson, 2013). In other words, schools centralise the child’s resilience skills, rather than the issue of bullying or exclusion, and therefore the need to examine current policy and make effective interventions is overlooked (Davies & Robinson, 2013).
On a policy level in Queensland, the Department of Education and Training has limited policy relating to GSD parents. The diversity policy (Queensland
Government, Department of Education and Training, n.d.~a) is targeted purely toward GSD students, and includes no reference to GSD parented families. The
Parent and Community Engagement Framework (Queensland Government,
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 56
Department of Education and Training, 2018) notes ‘sexual orientation’ when it promotes an inclusive culture and the importance of respecting diversity. Although the document encourages reaching out to all parts of the community to ensure a cross-section of views when making decisions, there are no specific guidelines to help schools with appropriate inclusive measures, such as considerations about language. The Queensland Department of Education, however, does offer limited training about gender and sexual diversity to staff in Queensland state primary schools, and further, in 2019 introduced the Proud at Work strategy (Queensland
Government, Department of Education and Training, n.d.~b), aiming to ensure GSD staff are supported and included. These examples show that while there has been some development of policy to support GSD students and staff, policy and guidelines to support GSD parented families in schools is lacking. This study provides an opportunity for GSD parents to discuss their experiences with regard to policy and forms in order to better understand how to meet the needs of GSD parented families.
Family-school partnerships. As discussed earlier in this chapter, a large body of research exists showing that children flourish when there are positive home-school relationships and parents are engaged in their children’s education (Burt, Gelnaw, & Lesser, 2010). Given that schools tend to be heteronormative and cisnormative environments, there can be challenges for GSD parents in terms of family-school relationships and relationships with other parents. Family-school relationships can be negatively influenced by a number of factors. These include lack of acknowledgement around family composition, not feeling accepted by school personnel, and challenges in fully participating in school communities (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008). Other elements influencing family-school relationships relate to experiences of exclusion,
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overhearing homophobic remarks in the school environment, and negative communication between staff and parents (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008). Several aspects can positively influence family-school relationships. These include: comfort with personnel, opportunities for children to share stories that value and acknowledge their family composition in class, welcoming biological and non-biological parents equally, using parents’ allocated names such as Mummy and Mum, practicing respect for diversity, making differences visible, helping children to understand that diverse families exist, and providing positive representations of GSD parented families in the curriculum (Goldberg, 2014; Gunn & Surtees, 2011; Lindsay et al.,
2006).
In the GLSEN study, parents reported greater challenges with regard to relationships with, and exclusion by, other parents, than they did in terms of difficulties in relationships with staff (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008). GSD parents reported difficulties with other parents such as hostile behaviour, judgements, and being talked about, resulting in feelings of exclusion and isolation (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008).
Goldberg and Smith (2014a) found in a study of 68 same-sex adoptive couples of kindergarten age children that participants who felt significantly excluded by other parents in the school were less involved. As was illustrated earlier, parent involvement in children’s schooling positively impacts on children’s social and academic outcomes. These findings indicate that if participants experience negative relationships with other parents, this has the potential to impact negatively on their school engagement. If this is the case, there could be significant implications for the school experiences and outcomes of children for GSD parented families. Thus, the interview questions used in this study provided a necessary opportunity for GSD
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parents to discuss the relationships they have experienced with their child/ren’s school and also with other parents.
Children’s safety and wellbeing. In the literature, significant concerns were raised by parents in relation to challenges children may face due to having GSD parents. Parents worried about bullying, teasing, decreased safety, prejudice, and discrimination, as well as how to engender pride about their family structure without adversely impinging on their child’s privacy (Goldberg, 2010; Gunn & Surtees, 2011; Kosciw & Diaz, 2008; Lee,
2010; McNair, Dempsey, Wise, & Perlesz, 2002; Skattebol & Ferfolja, 2007). The literature also discusses experiences of children who belong to GSD parented families. The experiences children have reported are extensive and include bullying, non-consensual public outing of their family-makeup, derogatory comments, exclusion, verbal harassment, feelings of exclusion due to lack of representation in the curriculum, comments delegitimating GSD parented families, assumptions about children’s sexuality because of parent sexuality, friendships being disallowed due to parental sexuality, negative comments about GSD parented families, and negative language including homophobic name-calling (Farr, Crain, Oakley, Cashen, &
Garber, 2016; Gregory & Ray, 2001; Gunn & Surtees, 2011; Kosciw & Diaz, 2008;
Lee, 2010; Mercier & Harold, 2003; Riggs & Willing, 2013).
Negative experiences for students do not always have other children at their source. Sometimes teachers or other parents subject children of GSD parents to harassment, marginalisation and discriminatory practices (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008).
Kosciw and Diaz (2008) found in the Involved, Invisible, Ignored study that a comprehensive ‘safe school’ policy resulted in fewer reports of the mistreatment of students with LGBT parents by teachers. Other issues children have experienced
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 59
relate to being positioned as spokespeople for GSD parented families or being asked to explain their family structure (Davies & Robinson, 2013; Farr et al., 2016) or, on the contrary, staff discouraging children from talking about their family (Kosciw &
Diaz, 2008).
The GLSEN Involved, Invisible, Ignored study found that more than 50% of
LGBT parents reported having worried at least some of the time that their child would experience problems in school due to being a part of an LGBT parented family, and 80% of parents reported they had worried about the impact of family make-up on friendships and exclusion, even if it was just rarely (Kosciw & Diaz,
2008). More than a quarter of parents reported they were anxious about the safety of their child when attending school due to having LGBT parents. Thus concerns about negative experiences their children have faced at school on the basis of having GSD parents, or could potentially face, is something that a relative proportion of GSD parents experience. As a result of this, the literature reports some parents attempt to pre-empt negative treatment to prepare their children for discrimination, understanding when and how to disclose family composition to others, and an encouraging an understanding that different kinds of families exist (Gunn & Surtees,
2011; Lee, 2010). Further, McDonald and Morgan (2019) found in a study of 17 same-sex parents based in England that to enhance children’s wellbeing and positive school experiences, parents used protective strategies such as purposeful selection of inclusive schools, involvement in school life, openness and visibility with regard to their family structure, fostering relationships with the school community with teachers, peers and parents, and helping children to build resilience.
The GLSEN survey found that “less than half (48%) of students who had experienced verbal or physical harassment or physical assault at school in the past
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year said that they ever reported the incident to a teacher, principal or other school staff” (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008, p. 69). However, more than two-thirds of students reported such instances to their parents. This often led to parents needing to intervene and discuss harassment and bullying with the school. Although many parents in the
Involved, Invisible, Ignored study found that addressing issues with school personnel was effective, this wasn’t the case for all parents (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008). While the focus of the current research project relates to the experiences of GSD parents, existing literature shows that the safety and wellbeing of children is of very high importance to parents. Experiences children have in school that relate to their family make-up, and the approaches schools take to address the safety and wellbeing of
GSD parented children, therefore may influence the ways in which GSD parents engage with schools.
GSD inclusive curricula and resources. Representation and inclusion of GSD parented families within the planned and hidden curriculum is also raised within the literature. Decisions that educators make
“in terms of programming, resource selection and policies send messages to children and their parents about the meaning of family in their settings” (Cloughessy &
Waniganayake, 2014, p. 1267). In other words, schools and educators have the power to legitimise, privilege and include particular family representations, and marginalise, silence, and render others invisible. One of the most common concerns expressed by GSD parents about curriculum relates to a lack of GSD inclusive resources and curricula. In the GLSEN survey, only 29% of students and 27% of parents indicated “the school curriculum included representations of LGBT people, history or events in the past school year” (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008, p. 91). Just 30% of students who undertook the survey stated that “representations of LGBT families
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 61
were included in the curriculum when the topic of families came up during class activities” (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008, p. 91). Importantly, and in relation to this project, fewer than 25% of LGBT parent participants with children in elementary school reported that LGBT issues were included in the curriculum (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008).
This raises obvious concerns about the exclusion of representations of diverse families, genders and sexualities in the curriculum. While curriculum is often directed by local or state authorities, reasons teachers may personally not include
GSD representations and issues in the curriculum are numerous, and include time constraints, school culture, considering diversity as being outside of academic work, childhood-as-innocence discourses, and concerns about what other parents may think or consider appropriate (Bower & Klecka, 2009; Martino & Cumming-Potvin, 2011;
Riggs & Willing, 2013). It is also important to consider how mediatised moral panics, such as those which surrounded Safe Schools and the intended showing of
Gayby Baby, and limited access to professional development in the area of GSD inclusion may impact on teachers’ confidence in this area.
When discussing representations of GSD parented families in the curriculum, parents commonly cite a lack of books showing diverse families as a problem
(Cloughessy & Waniganayake, 2015; Goldberg, 2014; Skattebol & Ferfolja, 2007).
Sometimes parents donate books to ensure representation, and some educational settings may even place an expectation on parents to source these books (Cloughessy
& Waniganayake, 2015; Skattebol & Ferfolja, 2007). In the literature, same-sex parents reported that, at times, settings have access to books yet the books are shut away or used only for older children (Skattebol & Ferfolja, 2007). Drawing on discourses of childhood-as-innocence, this approach silences and renders same-sex parent families invisible. Cloughessy and Waniganayake (2015) argue that when
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 62
parents address a lack of representation in the curriculum with teachers, this may reflect Foucault’s conception of resistance. Foucault suggested that societies without power relations do not exist, and as soon as a power relation comes into being, so too does the possibility for resistance (O'Farrell, 2005). According to Foucault, power can be resisted in multiple ways (O'Farrell, 2005), however it is most effective when it involves refusing techniques of power, rather than being directed at power generally (McHoul & Grace, 1993). Addressing the invisibility or lack of representation of GSD families within school resources can be considered a practice that resists the privileging of dominant, heteronormative and cisnormative discourses about family.
Other concerns about curriculum relate to ways in which Mother’s Day and
Father’s Day are handled in schools as well as other curricula that privilege two- parent traditional families, such as family trees (Cloughessy & Waniganayake,
2014). Mother’s Day and Father’s Day is sometimes handled poorly by schools and/or educators, such as in not allowing children of same-sex parents to make an item for each parent, leading to feelings of marginalisation (Goldberg, 2014; Kosciw
& Diaz, 2008). Mother’s Day and Father’s Day could be problematic for many family forms such as single parent families, blended families, foster families, children who have been adopted, children whose grandparents are caregivers, children who have lost a parent, diverse family constellations where they may be several caregivers, and, of course, GSD families.
Language. Language that excludes, harasses, ridicules, harms, makes invisible, and marginalises GSD identities and families is raised several times in the literature.
LGBT parented children involved in the GLSEN survey reported that they were
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regularly subject to homophobic comments such as “dyke” or “faggot”, with 64% of students hearing these remarks often or frequently (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008). A significant 39% of students were reported to have heard school staff making homophobic statements at school (Kosciw & Diaz, 2008). While students experienced a high incidence of homophobic language, the rate of intervention by staff was concerningly low. Students reported that while almost 60% of staff had intervened when racist comments were made by students, the number of staff intervening when hearing commentary about LGBT parents was just 38%. Given that
GSD parents have demonstrated concerns about the wellbeing of their children in relationship to their family composition, these statistics would no doubt be of concern for parents. However, in saying that, this study is focused on primary school, and the study above related to percentages of children in middle and high schools in the US. There is no large-scale statistical data regarding the experiences of GSD parents or their children as they navigate primary schools in Australia.
Language inclusive of family diversity is also reported as an issue in the experiences of parents. Much of this relates to the invisibility of family diversity with regard to language choices. Parents have reported that difference can be minimised and therefore not acknowledged, with staff struggling with naming practices such as
Papa and Daddy respectively for each of two dads, use of heteronormative terms like
“Mums and Dads”, forms and documents reflecting heteronormative perspectives, and silencing, such as that which occurs when a family type is never mentioned
(Cloughessy & Waniganayake, 2015; Goldberg, 2014; Gunn, 2011; Gunn & Surtees,
2011; Skattebol & Ferfolja, 2007). Language is powerful and insights from both parents and children relating to ways in which language excludes, silences, marginalises, and so on, show that the language used within school settings can
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 64
significantly impact GSD families. This study provided an opportunity to consider ways in which language impacts on the experiences of GSD parents involved in the study in relation to their children’s schooling.
Invisibility, hypervisibility and silencing. The literature suggests that invisibility and feeling as if one’s family composition has been rendered invisible is a common experience for GSD parents.
Invisibility can be experienced by same-sex parents in a myriad of ways such as consistent questioning by others as to who the ‘real’ (biological) parent is, school staff ignoring the non-biological parent in communications, and an inability of staff and other parents to acknowledge same-sex parents as a couple (Kosciw & Diaz,
2008). Additionally, same-sex parents report difficulties experienced when heterosexual assumptions lead to others constructing same-sex parents in heteronormative ways, such as seeing partners as grandmother or sister, rather than viewing parents as a couple (Skattebol & Ferfolja, 2007). Similarly, single same-sex attracted parent families and same-sex attracted co-parented families (such as a gay man and a lesbian woman co-parenting together) often experience invisibility due to heteronormative assumptions (Carlile & Paechter, 2018). Trans men can also experience invisibility, although this is less likely to happen if the transition has occurred within the school their children attend (Carlile & Paechter, 2018). Thus, assumptions that families are headed by heterosexual and cisgendered parents can lead to GSD parents consistently needing to make decisions about whether to disclose the structure of their family. Other examples of silencing and invisibility include children or parents being asked not to speak to other children about their family, even in age-appropriate ways (Lindsay et al., 2006; Riggs & Willing, 2013).
Further, a lack of positive representation and resources representing GSD parented
Chapter 2: GSD Families and Parent Engagement: A Review of the Literature 65
families in the curriculum creates silence about families who do not fit into gender and sexuality norms (Cloughessy & Waniganayake, 2014; Kosciw & Diaz, 2008;
Skattebol & Ferfolja, 2007).
While visibility of family composition, that is recognition and inclusion of diverse genders, sexualities and families, is often reported in the literature as being of significant importance to families, hypervisibility can also create significant challenges for GSD families. According to Lee (2010), hypervisibility occurs for sexuality diverse persons “when their sexual preference becomes their most publicly acknowledged characteristic” resulting in “an exaggerated and uncomfortable emphasis on the sexual nature of relationships” (Lee, 2010, p. 17). In other words, for same-sex parents, hypervisibility is an Othering process that occurs when sexuality diverse families are positioned in highly visible ways as different to
“normal” families (Skattebol & Ferfolja, 2007). Hypervisibility is strongly linked to normalisation and has the potential to generate homophobic reactions from attendees in settings (Lee, 2010). Taking into account the descriptions above, hypervisibility for gender diverse parents relates to an uncomfortable emphasis on the ways in which they ‘do’ gender. Carlile and Paechter’s (2018) study of ‘LGBTQI’ parented families in schools in the US reported that some parents utilise strategies of invisibility in their children’s schools out of concern for transphobic bullying that might accompany hypervisibility.
Practices within schools can also encourage hypervisibility. Skattebol and
Ferfolja (2007), in their Australian study of the experiences and perceptions of eight lesbian mothers with children in prior-to-school early-childhood settings, provide useful contrasting examples of centre practices that demonstrate the differences between hypervisibility and visibility. In one setting, families were asked to provide
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a family photo to hang on the centre’s wall. This activity created significant concerns about hypervisibility for one particular family in the setting, as a static photo would highlight that their child had two mums and their difference in relation to other families in the centre. Further, this approach created additional stress for these same- sex parents because they viewed their family as involving many adults who played an important role in the child’s life, and whom were considered to be family. These particular parents were placed in a precarious situation of trying to decide who was included in their family as well as to consider whether representing their family in their preferred form would once again draw attention to the differences between their family and other attending families.
As a contrasting example, in another centre, parents were instead asked to bring a steady flow of action photos, that is, photos that represented what families were doing in their everyday lives. By moving away from static representations and into something more dynamic, the focus was on “doing”. This allowed the diversity of all families’ lives to be displayed alongside each other. Rather than creating hypervisibility, this approach created visibility but in a way that demonstrated connections between families while disrupting binaries such as heterosexual/homosexual and nuclear/non-nuclear. This approach provided greater scope for the building of positive relationships between parents and educators because it allowed visibility without hypervisibility. In Chapter 7, I explore ways in which GSD parented families experience and navigate invisibility, visibility and hypervisibility, providing opportunities to think about ways schools might consider these issues in order to create spaces of belonging for GSD families.
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Hostility, harassment, homophobia and transphobia. Studies relating to the experiences of GSD parents and families in schools have found that hostility, harassment, homophobia and transphobia are also a concern. In the GLSEN survey, 27% of LGBT parents reported being subject to hostile behaviour by other parents, school staff and, sometimes, even students (Kosciw &
Diaz, 2008). This hostile behaviour revealed itself in multiple ways, such as dirty looks, derogatory language, stares and side-bar comments that have led to same-sex parents feeling unwelcome in schools. The report also discussed a same-sex parent who, as a Guide leader, experienced another parent withdrawing her child from the
Girl Scouts troop because she was in a same-sex relationship. Another difficult situation related to religious propaganda. One same-sex parent reported that a classmate placed anti-gay, pro-Christian propaganda in her child’s backpack. While the GLSEN study reports on these experiences of homophobia (Kosciw and Diaz,
2008), there is no mention of transphobia, likely influenced by the small number of transgender parents involved. There is limited research about the experiences of gender diverse parents in educational settings. However, Bartholomaeus and Riggs
(2017) report on an experience of a transgender parent shifting age groups in a prior- to-school setting and finding one of their new teachers was ‘weird’ with them. The father expressed not wanting his child to experience the effects of transphobia so young. These examples demonstrate that schools and educational settings can be complex spaces for GSD parents to navigate.
It is not just actual experiences of homophobia or transphobia that impact on
GSD parents. Anticipating their children may experience homophobia, for instance, can greatly influence school choice of same-sex parents, as well as interactions with educational settings, such as approaching schools about how they would deal with
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homophobia and asking about antibullying policies (Carlile & Paechter, 2018;
Taylor, 2009). Research shows that some transgender parents may use invisibility in an attempt to prevent their children experiencing transphobia. In their study examining LGBTQI parented families and schools, Carlile and Paechter (2018) note that one transgender participant delayed transition until her children became adults because of anticipated experiences of transphobia in school. Similarly,
Bartholomaeus and Riggs (2017) reported on a transgender parent who completely withdrew from school due to potential transphobia, in order to protect her child. An implication of this is that parent engagement, which has been shown to greatly influence children’s outcomes and wellbeing, becomes impossible when a parent feels the need to withdraw on the basis of ensuring their child’s wellbeing and safety.
This doesn’t mean that all transgender parents use invisibility as a strategy.
Bartholomaeus and Riggs (2017) also report on a parent who was involved and present in his child’s schooling, however he expressed significant worry about his child experiencing transphobia. The above examples demonstrate that anticipated homophobia or transphobia can create significant labour for GSD parents and influence the types of communication parents may have with schools, as well as their visibility and presence.
Sameness and diversity. Some same-sex parents reported on in the literature draw on liberal discourses to state that they are no different to heterosexual parents and that same-sex parents are the same as heterosexual parents (Davies & Robinson, 2013). Such discourses are often employed in rights-based campaigns such as marriage equality, however the claims erase differences and ignore real possibilities to create radical change in
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normalisation processes (Davies & Robinson, 2013). In the DVD sleeve of Gayby
Baby, director Maya Newell, who has two mums, states:
For years, in my defence, I would answer, “No”. [I would say], “My family is
‘normal’ just like yours. We are the same.” As I grew older, I started to realise that
it wasn’t doing justice to my queer family to simply state our normalcy. It was also
important to express the richness of our differences, and the unique perspectives
that these differences offered” [parentheses added]. (Newell, 2015)
Sometimes, educational settings can contribute to the erasure and silencing of difference. For example in a study by Cloughessy & Waniganayake (2015) of 64 directors of childcare centres in Victoria, a common view was that “lesbian-parented families were the same as heterosexually parented families” (p. 380). One participant rejected the notion of ‘naming’ differences suggesting it caused separateness.
However, acknowledgement of diversity and the unique and positive differences that
GSD parented families bring to educational settings is important in ensuring that differences are not erased, but valued, in these settings. This study provides an opportunity to explore some of the ways in which perspectives of sameness and difference emerge in the data with regard to the experiences of GSD parents and families.
Conclusion
In broader social discourses, GSD parents have often been positioned in relation to nuclear families as inferior (see for example Australian Christian Lobby,
2015; Grigorovich, 2014; van Gend, 2016). In these comparisons, nuclear families are constructed as normal, natural and ideal, however this form of family is socially and historically constructed and elevates hegemonic, white, patriarchal, middle-class,
Christian, heteronormative, and cisnormative ideologies. The ways in which schools
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view families has the potential to impact on relationships with GSD parented families. Within research and policy, parent engagement is considered to be an important factor in students’ wellbeing and success. Authentic parent engagement is underpinned by authentic family-school relationships. The ways in which schools engage and develop relationships with parents have differed over time and there are, therefore, many circulating ideas about the roles of parents within schools. In engaging parents, schools have the potential to (re)produce already existing inequities and privilege within schooling contexts, particularly as some approaches to parent engagement are underpinned by, and reinforce, the school’s agenda. Classed and raced ideologies mean that schools can act in an attempt to ‘protect’ children and in doing so position particular families in deficit ways. Authentic, two-way family- school relationships, where parent knowledges are valued, provide an important approach to engagement with families. However, as schools also work to ‘protect’ children from exposure to gender and sexual diversity, underpinned by notions of childhood-as-innocence, GSD parents threaten and interrupt the invisibility of this diversity through their presence. There is potential for this to impact on the experiences of GSD parents as they engage with their children’s schools. There is a limited body of literature examining the experiences of GSD parent experiences within educational contexts, particularly with regard to gender diverse parents. There are multiple themes apparent within the limited body of literature and I used a set of ten, constructed inductively through the reviewing process to organise my review of this field. Of interest are the many ways in which heteronormativity and cisnormativity underpin many of the experiences reported by GSD parents across the literature.
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So the review has provided insight into the historical and cultural construction of the nuclear family as ideal, the importance of authentic parent engagement, and the landscape of existing literature examining the experiences of GSD parents as they navigate educational contexts. Having established this, I move now to explore the theoretical framework for this study. I will introduce queer theory and the cultural, political and intellectual histories preceding the development of this theoretical frame.
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Chapter 3: Queering Parents and Schools:
Theoretical Framing of the Study
The GSD parents who were involved in this study operate in a society in which their families, as well as their gender and sexual identities, have become highly politicised. The key aim of this study was to explore the experiences of GSD parents who are engaging with primary schools. To achieve this, a queer theoretical framework was employed. Queer theory is relevant to examining the experiences of
GSD parents in primary schools as the inherent concepts within this theoretical lens assist with unpacking, deconstructing and interrogating concealed norms. The purpose of this chapter is to lay out the theoretical framework that forms the foundation of my approach to research. In conceptualising queer theory here, I discuss the cultural, political and intellectual histories that have influenced queer theory. It is important that I also examine key tenets underpinning queer theory and how these intersect with the research being undertaken. My preferred descriptors within this project are gender diversity and sexual diversity; the term “homosexual” is used in this chapter due to the historical nature of the theoretical literature I review.
While the term “queer theory” may suggest a singular, unitary theoretical approach, it represents a multiplicity of perspectives (Seidman, 1997; Sullivan,
2003). Hall (2003) claims “there is no ‘queer theory’ in the singular, only many different voices and sometimes overlapping, sometimes divergent perspectives that can loosely be called ‘queer theories’” (p. 5). In utilising the term queer theory throughout the thesis, I do so with recognition and acknowledgement of the plurality of the queer theoretical field, however in this chapter I do set out the foundations of
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work in this field that help me to answer questions I have about the enablements and constraints experienced by GSD parents as they navigate the schools their child/ren attend.
This conceptually slippery field resists definition and to attempt to anchor it in a fixed and stable way is contrary to its very foundation (Allen & Rasmussen, 2015;
Jagose, 1996). The indefinability of queer theory is suggested by Rasmussen when she states, “I have been utilising ideas that sometimes get called queer for a while now, but I don’t have a definitive idea of what queer theory is, which, I think, is part of the point of queer theory” (Allen & Rasmussen, 2015, p. 685). Language such as instability, resistance, ante-normative, disruption, de-centring, questioning, deconstruction, interrogation, transgression, denaturalising, and subversion
(Britzman, 1995; Cohen, 1997; Fotopoulou, 2012; Giffney & O'Rourke, 2009;
Halperin, 1997; Ruffolo, 2007; Seidman, 1997; Stein & Plummer, 1994; Sullivan,
2003; Warner, 1991) have been used in descriptions of queer theory, and these vernacularisms hint at a framework that is somewhat anarchical. However, given the diverse perspectives expressed within queer theory, this is not always the case.
Rasmussen, for instance, has clearly articulated that she does not view queer theory from a perspective of resisting norms (Allen & Rasmussen, 2015). Rather, the focus is on analysing and thinking in alternate ways “about events, people, places and their intersections [in order to] analyse something familiar from different angles”
[parentheses added] (Allen & Rasmussen, 2015, p. 685). Nonetheless, queer theory can be considered political and ideological (Seidman, 1997), and the descriptions offered in the theoretical literature are certainly indicative of the attention queer theorists direct toward analysis and deconstruction of power/knowledge regimes that shape subjects and privilege particular knowledges.
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The analysis of power/knowledge and subjection are pillars of poststructuralist and feminist poststructuralist thought (Butler, 1997b; Foucault, 1977). Queer theory, in part, grew out of poststructuralism based in the work of, for example, Foucault
(1977, 1979) and Derrida (1986 [1974], 2001 [1967, 1978]), and feminist poststructuralism developed by feminist scholars such as Butler (1997a, 1997b, 2004,
2007 [1990], 2011 [1993]). Butler’s theories of performativity and the heterosexual matrix have had a particular influence on the development of queer ways of thinking, and her work underpins much of this thesis.
The application of queer theory is not limited to research focused on gender and sexuality (Gowlett & Rasmussen, 2014). This is because queer theory views
‘queer’ as a verb, an action. To queer something means to destabilise, interrogate, question, oppose, disrupt, deconstruct, disorder, and so on. Queer theory therefore can be, and is, utilised in multiple arenas for a variety of topics (see for example
Gowlett, 2014), just like other theories. What is different for queer theory however, is that it is often constrained by the association of queer with gender and sexuality, so that researchers may not consider it as an approach to researching topics outside this field (Gowlett & Rasmussen, 2014).
The application of queer theory beyond gender and sexual diversity is noteworthy as it could easily be assumed that queer theory has been employed in this study purely because it explores the experiences of persons within the queer community. There are many theoretical approaches and models that could have been employed in such work. I have chosen queer theory because it is political, deconstructive, explores power, and the key tenets are relevant and resonate.
Exploring a queer ontology has allowed me to understand the gendered and sexual lenses through which I view people and practices in my everyday life and, further,
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has assisted in data collection and analysis. This ontological approach provides a useful framework for examining the experiences of GSD parents in primary schools.
As noted, queer theories have also been influenced greatly by queer histories, culture, and politics. As such, in order to comprehend the characteristics of queer theory, it is essential to explore its historical, cultural and political influences. These aspects will now be discussed, with the remainder of the chapter outlining the key tenets of queer theory.
Cultural, Political, and Intellectual Histories Preceding the Emergence of Queer Theory
Theories do not develop in a social, cultural or political vacuum. Contemporary cultures are inscribed by the past and therefore, an understanding of the cultural histories of sexuality, gender and politics that preceded the emergence of queer theory is essential to understanding the key concepts underpinning this theoretical approach. Queer theory emerged in the late 1980s (Stein & Plummer, 1994) and grew out of multiple intersecting social, cultural, intellectual and political queer histories, poststructuralist and feminist poststructuralist theories, and gay and lesbian studies (Seidman, 1997; Stein & Plummer, 1994; Sullivan, 2003). These histories and intellectual approaches represent different ways of thinking that not only existed in the past but also continue in the present. In this section, I will overview social, cultural and political histories preceding and influencing the development of queer theory. I detail these histories using a temporal organisation, however, importantly note that this is not meant to suggest there is a bounded, temporal history here. Such contexts are much messier than this and underpinning ideologies continue to circulate outside of these temporalities.
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The ways in which sexuality is constructed in contemporary culture are inscribed by the past and “forms of subjectivity [that] have been discursively constructed” by “the random, provisional often discontinuous ways in which power has functioned or been deployed” (Sullivan, 2003, pp. 1-2). In other words, sexuality is discursively produced through relations of power in culturally and historically specific ways. In The History of Sexuality, Foucault (1979) provided a genealogy of sexuality in Western society over the past 300 years. In this work, he demonstrated that from the 17th century onward, through civil law, Christian pastoralism, canonical law, and later, a rapid growth in the medical sciences, discourses of sexuality have multiplied over time. Foucault argued that bourgeoning interest and regulation of sex and bodies during this period was influenced by the emergence of
‘population’ as an important political and economic concept and, accordingly, the centrality of sex to marriage and family.
Foucault (1979) noted that until the late 1700s, prohibitions of a sexual nature were, in the main, juridical, however these prohibitions were grounded in Christian doctrines. At this time, sodomy, also known as buggery, had the potential to result in punishment by death (Olsen, 2017; Weeks, 2017 [2012]). Sodomy referred to a number of perceived ‘unnatural’ sexual acts that did not produce children, including bestiality, anal sex, and homosexual acts (Harvey, 1978; Turton, 2019; Weeks, 2017
[2012]). Although the death penalty was eventually abolished in England 7,
7 In England, sodomy was first introduced as an offence into law by King Henry VIII via the Buggery Act of 1533 which cast “the detestable and abhominable vice of buggerie committed with mankind or beast” as a capital offense, punishable by death (Turton, 2019, p. 84). When Australia was invaded and colonised in the late 18th century, the colony was subject to English law and thus inherited laws which made sodomy punishable by death. In England, the death penalty remained formally in law until 1861, and the last execution for sodomy occurred in 1835 (Harvey, 1978; Weeks, 2017 [2012]). Queensland abolished the death penalty for sodomy in 1865 in response to the changes to British law (Moore & Jamison, 2007). In this change, the penalty in Queensland shifted to imprisonment for a period of ten years to life (Moore & Jamison, 2007).
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homosexual acts continued to be subject to discipline and punishment, such as imprisonment.
In the mid- to late- 1800s, religious orthodoxy diminished and medical science literature rapidly increased (Foucault, 1979). There was a shift away from viewing homosexuality as a sinful act to homosexuality as an identity (Foucault, 1979).
Foucault (1979) flagged the significance of this change when he wrote that “the nineteenth-century homosexual became a personage… the sodomite had been a temporary aberration [and] the homosexual was now a species” (p. 43). Thus, in the
19th century, the concept of homosexuality changed from an action to a noun, in the form of a medical and social category (Drescher, 2015). The evolution of the homosexual ‘act’ to the homosexual ‘identity’ is significant in that it allowed the notion of homosexuality as pathology to later develop (Birke, 1981).
By the mid-20th century, the majority of psychoanalysts viewed homosexuality as pathological, concluding that homosexuality was an illness and, through therapy, could thus be ‘cured’ (Drescher, 2015). At this time, criminologists drew upon psychoanalytic perspectives to advocate for therapeutic intervention of homosexuality. From the 1940s onward, therapies utilised to ‘cure’ homosexuality, such as castration, chemically induced grand mal seizures, and aversion therapy, markedly increased (Sullivan, 2003). In 1952, the first edition of the Diagnostic and
Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) was released by the American
Psychiatric Association (APA) (1952) listing homosexuality as a mental disorder.
Specifically, ‘homosexuality’ was listed in the DSM (American Psychiatric
Association, 1952), 1st edition, under the subcategory of “sexual deviation” (p. 38) grouped together with “transvestism, paedophilia, fetishism and sexual sadism
(including rape, sexual assault [and] mutilation)” (p. 39). The psychological sciences
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therefore represented part of the mechanism in which same-sex attraction was medicalised, categorised, and disciplined.
In the 1950s, around the time that the APA categorised homosexuality as a disorder in the first edition of the DSM, homophile groups emerged in a more prominent way in the US, engaging in identity politics with the purpose of educating others, bringing about legal reform, and pursuing acceptance of homosexuals into mainstream culture (Sullivan, 2003). Homophile organisations were assimilationist in nature, taking an integration stance and focusing on similarities to normative society rather than differences (Esterberg, 1994; Sullivan, 2003; Turner, 2000).
Further, these organisations frowned upon militant approaches, focusing, rather, on slowly gaining recognition through persuasion, positioning homosexuals as “model citizens, as respectable as heterosexuals, and no more likely to disturb the status quo”
(Jagose, 1996, pp. 30-31). This approach is reflective of ‘good gay’ or homonormative discourses. Thus, an integrationalist approach involved presenting homosexuals as being “‘just like’ everyone else – that is, just like middle-class, heterosexual, white American[s] – with the simple exception of choice of partner”
(Esterberg, 1994, p. 430). This ‘no different to heterosexuals’ approach has often been utilised in equal rights discourses globally, including in same-sex marriage campaigns. For instance, in such campaigns, same-sex parented families have been presented as being no different to heterosexually-parented families. From a queer perspective, viewing same-sex parented families as the ‘same’ as heterosexual parented families erases difference and diversity, and removes the potential for questioning the “very terms through which the political is constituted” (Davies &
Robinson, 2013, p. 43).
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The 1960s and 1970s reflected a time of civil unrest for many identity groups as these groups sought recognition and justice, and for gay and lesbian communities this era brought about a new category of identity politics known as the liberationist movement (Drescher, 2010). This movement greatly influenced queer politics. The gay liberationist movement rejected compulsory heterosexuality and assimilationist politics epitomised by the homophile movement (Seidman, 1997; Turner, 2000). This represented a time where some groups tired of pleading their case for acceptance and tolerance, and shifted to a more militant approach (Jagose, 1996). Liberationists resisted the status quo, challenged discourses of pathology, critiqued heterosexual dominance, and engaged in activism to overthrow discriminatory institutions (Jagose,
1996). At this time, similar fights were had by women on the basis of patriarchy, and those who had been racially minoritised on the basis of white supremacism. Gay liberationists directed their attention to revolutionising society by demolishing traditional views of gender and sexuality so that sexual and political freedom could be achieved (Sullivan, 2003). The approach by liberationists of resistance, disrupting the status quo, challenging normative notions of sexuality, and engaging a constructionist position in relation to gender and sexuality (Seidman, 1997), are reflected in characteristics of queer theory.
This period of activism saw some changes with regard to the medicalisation and disciplining of sexuality. In the two years following the Stonewall riots, which occurred in New York City in 1969, gay and lesbian activists (liberationists) disrupted APA annual meetings with the view that psychiatric theories contributed significantly to social stigma around homosexuality (Drescher, 2015). The second edition of the DSM (American Psychiatric Association, 1968), released in 1968, had once again listed ‘homosexuality’ within the category of “sexual deviation” (p. 44).
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Consequently, both the DSM, 1st edition, and DSM, 2nd edition, normalised heterosexuality and positioned homosexuality as deviancy, ignoring emerging mid-
20th century research by sexologists such as Alfred Kinsey that found homosexuality was more common in society than previously thought (Drescher, 2015). In response to broad and growing criticism of psychiatry, pressure within the organisation to be more socially responsible, and what foundational queer theorist Sedgwick (1991) described as “intense pressure from activists outside the profession” (p. 157), the
APA removed ‘homosexuality’ as a mental disorder from the second edition of the
DSM in December 1973 (American Psychiatric Association, 1980). At this time, the disciplining of homosexuality also came under the spotlight. South Australia was the first Australian state to decriminalise sodomy in 1975. It was, however, another 22 years before the last state in Australia decriminalised homosexual sex acts.
After the APA removed homosexuality as a mental disorder from the DSM in
1973, the third edition of the DSM (American Psychiatric Association, 1980), released in 1980, saw introduction of a formal diagnosis pathologising gender diversity. The introduction of the subcategory of Gender Identity Disorders within the broader category of psychosexual disorders drew heavily on notions of appropriate ‘femininity’ and ‘masculinity’ in diagnosis (American Psychiatric
Association, 1980), demonstrating that hegemonic notions of sex and gender, and
‘appropriate’ gendered behaviours continued to be reinscribed through medicalisation. Some have argued, on the basis that psychoanalysis linked gender expression with homosexuality, that the shift to pathologise gender nonconformity represented a less obvious approach to pathologising homosexuality at a time where intense political pressure prevented the APA from doing so (Bem, 1993; Sedgwick,
1991). Whether or not this is the case, it is evident that the DSM in its many
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iterations has perpetuated normative ideas about one’s sex and its relationship to gender and gendered behaviours and, further, reflected fixed, binarised, and naturalised sex/gender classifications.
Histories of the disciplining and medicalisation of sexuality and gender have greatly influenced queer politics and intellectual thought. The two major political movements that arose prior to the emergence of queer theory, that is, the homophile and liberationist movements, drew on particular theorisations of gender and sexuality. Homophile groups of the 1950s espoused essentialist beliefs that gender and sexuality are fixed, innate, and natural (Bank, Delamont, & Marshall, 2007;
Sullivan, 2003). The ‘born that way’ equal rights discourse is grounded in this essentialist espousing (Bank et al., 2007; Davies & Robinson, 2013). Conversely, social constructionists reject a universalist perspective of gender and sexuality as innate and transhistorical, rather viewing these categories as historically and culturally constructed (Bank et al., 2007). Social constructionists may not dispute sex as biological, however. Liberationist groups, which emerged in the 1960s and 1970s, adopted a constructionist stance, viewing gender and sexuality as socially constructed. As with all philosophies and political thought, there are overlaps in thought and political espousing within these groups and histories. Although each of these movements appeared at specific times historically, both ideologies are evident still today in many of the political debates regarding queer rights and issues.
Similarly, and of relevance to this study, these ideologies can also be found circulating within schooling contexts.
Like social constructionism, queer theory views gender and sexuality as constructed. However, one of the differences between these theoretical approaches is that queer theories give attention to notions of power and privilege. This is
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demonstrated, for example, when Cohen (1997), in her influential paper, Punks, bulldaggers, and welfare queens: The radical potential of queer politics, states that:
At its best, queer theory focuses on and makes central not only the social
constructed nature of sexuality and sexual categories, but also the varying degrees
and multiple sites of power distributed within all categories of sexuality,
including the normative category of heterosexuality. (pp. 438-439)
The attention given to power and privilege within queer theory reflects its roots in poststructuralism and feminist poststructuralism. Poststructuralism grew out of a shift from identity politics towards politics of difference in the 1980s, in which ideologies relating to singular universal and unified identities began to be challenged
(Sullivan, 2003). Poststructuralists do not subscribe to objective, universal truths, rather they see that knowledge becomes ‘naturalised’ in historically and culturally specific ways (Sullivan, 2003). Further, poststructuralists reject universalising accounts of culture such as that which is found in structuralism, viewing these as normalising discourses (Sullivan, 2003). These facets of poststructuralism are evident within queer theoretical approaches; however, queer theorists have built upon these theoretical foundations, drawing on queer social, cultural and political histories.
To conclude, historically, gender and sexual diversity has been medicalised, categorised, and disciplined, thereby producing GSD persons as less than human.
There have been resistances to these constructions of diverse genders and sexualities over time, however, these discourses continue to circulate in society. Queer theory draws on these histories as well as histories of activism and poststructural theory, to develop conceptualisations which are useful in examining and deconstructing the experiences of GSD parents as they navigate the schools their children attend. There
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are several key tenets that form the theoretical foundation of queer theory, and I move now to unpack those concepts.
Queer Theory: Key Tenets
Queer theory has emerged from feminist poststructuralism and queer politics and yet resists definition. It is not singular, instead it can be understood in multiple ways, including as anti-normative, disruptive, deconstructive, interrogative, subversive, and as reconsidering the familiar in new ways. There are multiple intersecting social, cultural, intellectual and political queer histories which have preceded the emergence of queer theory as laid out in the previous section. These histories represent different ways of thinking that not only operate in the past but also in the present.
While queer theory resists definition, there are key tenets inherent within this theoretical lens. I overview these tenets here because they underpin the techniques I adopted to analyse the data collected for this research project. These particular concepts provided a platform for deconstructing and interrogating implicit and explicit norms which underpin parent experiences in schools. The key tenets relate to subjection and norms of recognition/intelligibility; categories of identity; queer as a noun versus queer as a verb; binary oppositions; heteronormativity and cisnormativity; sex, gender, desire and the heterosexual matrix; performativity, and intersectionality. In attempting to crystallise important aspects of each tenet, each may seem neat, bounded and simple. However, I note here that these key tenets are messier than they appear, and will be unpacked further within the data chapters of the thesis. Each of these key tenets is now examined.
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Subjection and norms of recognition/intelligibility. Subjection, or subjectivation, refers to how subjects are formed. For Butler
(1997b), subjection refers to “the process of becoming subordinated by power as well as the process of becoming a subject” (p. 2). Here, Butler refers to the paradoxical nature of subjection, whereby power is both external to the subject, acting from the outside, subordinating, regulating and constraining the subject, as well as productive in that it also forms the subject. An effect of these processes is that the subject is dependent on this power (which both subordinates and produces), in order to exist
(Butler, 1997b). In other words, the outcome of the workings of power is it produces a psychic “attachment to subjection” (Butler, 1997, p. 6) where forms of power such as prohibition, regulation, and suppression are both embraced and depended upon by the subject for its very existence.
Butler (2006) argues that subject formation occurs “within a set of norms that confer or withdraw recognition” (p. 532) and foreclose possibility. As such, norms are imbued with power, regulating what will and will not be considered to be a worthy, intelligible life in accordance with the normative horizon (Butler, 2004;
2005). The norms that bestow humanity on particular individuals, consequently, deny this status to those who do not reflect these norms, and this can lead to an unviable life (Butler, 2004). Norms of recognition do not fully belong to the subject, rather, they reflect social and historical temporalities of which it is impossible to determine a singular origin (Butler, 2005). However, norms change; they are not static. A rupture or “crisis of norms that govern recogntion” (Butler, 2005, p. 24) can result in a critical opening that leads to resignification (Butler, 2004, 2005). This means that the concept of the human, and “norms of recognition by which the ‘human’ is constituted”, are subject to renegotiation and redefinition (Butler, 2004, p. 13).
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Categories of identity. One of the central tenets of queer theory relates to the concept of identity categories. Queer theory deems identity categories as changing, unstable, and relational, a concept drawn from poststructuralist and feminist poststructuralist thought (Bank et al., 2007). From a queer theoretical perspective, identity represents a discursive effect of culture (Britzman, 1995), meaning that categories of identity are culturally and historically constituted. Queer theory rejects the notion that categories such as woman, man, heterosexual, and homosexual are neutral or natural
(Bank et al., 2007). Categories of identity are imbued with power, as they can function as reified groups, producing and reproducing norms and, thus, inequalities
(Sullivan, 2003). Categories of identity are constructed as stable and as having boundaries that cannot be transgressed, thereby creating a foundation for power and control (Cohen, 1997). Butler (1997b) argues that the subject pursues a sense of existence and recognition outside oneself through social categories, representing a paradoxical process where one both exists and is subordinated as a part of subjection, through categories. Queer theorists attempt to deconstruct and destabilise fixed categories of identity to allow fluidity and ambiguity, and to challenge discursive norms that are used to constitute subjects (Giffney, 2009). Some GSD persons employ “queer” as an identity label, in order to avoid static categories. While queer can be used as a noun in this way, a queer theoretical approach encourages viewing
“queer” as a verb.
Queer as a noun vs. queer as a verb. Fixed and stable categories of identity are problematic. From the perspective of queer politics, and within the LGBTIQ+ community, ‘queer’ is often employed as a noun to represent identity. In these cases, the meaning attributed to queer is inconsistent. Sometimes it relates to gender, for others it relates to sexuality, and for
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some, the identity of queer sits outside these two areas. Some people use queer to refer to members of the LGBTIQ+ community (Giffney, 2009), while others use it as an umbrella term to describe all forms of sexual and gender diversity to ensure no one is left out (Sullivan, 2003). Halperin (1997) even suggests that queer can be used to describe heterosexuals who are marginalised because their sexual practices do not fit into dominant sexual discourses – however this is not a common interpretation.
More often, queer as a noun embodies a fluidity of identity, denoting that “desire and thus desiring subjects cannot be placed into discrete identity categories, which remain static for the duration of people’s lives” (Giffney,
2009, p. 2).
While ‘queer’ is commonly employed as a noun in reference to labelling identities within queer politics and by the queer community, from a queer theoretical perspective ‘queer’ is positioned as a verb. As has already been discussed, queer theory takes the stance that categories of identity should be deconstructed, challenged, and dismantled (Giffney & O'Rourke, 2009; Halperin, 1997; Ruffolo,
2007; Seidman, 1997; Stein & Plummer, 1994; Warner, 1991). Thus, from a queer theoretical perspective, queer is actually viewed as a verb, rather than a noun, that is, an action, rather than identity (Britzman, 1995). Verbs that describe the approach of applying queer theory include destabilise, resist, question, interrogate, disrupt, oppose, disorder, and denaturalise, among others. Queer theory interrogates boundaries and borders, and it un-anchors epistemological (theories of knowledge and knowing) and ontological (nature of human beings and existence) assumptions and logic “without the intention to reinstate any form of new epistemological or ontological certainty” (Gowlett, 2014, p. 11). This distinguishes queer theory from alternative forms of critique as it demonstrates a comfort with the ambiguity that
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comes with dismantling knowledges, without needing to replace these with clear answers (Gowlett, 2014). In so doing, queer theory creates possibilities for alternative practices that challenge normalisation (Bank et al., 2007).
Deconstruction, a concept introduced by Derrida (1986 [1974], 2001 [1967,
1978]), provides a useful approach to “queering as a verb”. Deconstructive approaches have been used by poststructuralists, feminist poststructuralists, and queer theorists to trouble, interrogate and interrupt normative and naturalised conceptualisations. Such work reveals the constructedness of norms and creates critical openings for understanding taken-for-granted conceptions in new ways.
Binaries. A further key tenet within queer theory is the concept of binaries. Binaries represent one of the ways in which power functions to marginalise or ‘Other’ GSD persons. In queer theory, binary oppositions are understood as dual knowledge categories that are socially hierarchical in nature and inherently unequal (Bank et al.,
2007; Seidman, 1997). On a cultural level, binaries organise thinking and structure experiences (Seidman, 1997). Binaries in Western society include male/female, heterosexual/homosexual; masculine/feminine; natural/unnatural; man/woman; majority/minority; oppressor/oppressed; tolerant/tolerated; natural/artificial; heterosexual/non-heterosexual, and so on. From queer and feminist poststructuralist perspectives, language is integral to the production of persons and power, and the discursive use of these binaries reproduces and maintains them in society (Butler,
2007 [1990]; Dillon, 2014). Sedgwick (2008 [1990]) comments on the power relations inherent in binary oppositions when she states that:
Categories presented in a culture as symmetrical binary oppositions… actually
subsist in a more unsettled and dynamic tacit relation according to which, first,
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term B is not symmetrical with but subordinated to term A; but, second, the
ontologically valorised term A actually depends for its meaning on the
simultaneous subsumption and exclusion of term B; hence, third, the question of
priority between the supposed central and the supposed marginal category of each
dyad is irresolvably unstable, an instability caused by the fact that term B is
constituted as at once internal and external to term A. (pp. 9-10)
Here, Sedgwick explains there is a hierarchy within binaries, that one half of the binary is heroed, while the other part is considered its subordinate ‘Other’. She also points out that the category in the dualism that is considered as superior actually relies on the existence of the other category in the pair for its meaning, as the subordinate term affirms what the superior category is not and keeps it in a higher, privileged position. This means that while one category is articulated (and as such is positioned as good/right), the other side of the duality is positioned as ‘bad’/’not right’ in relation. This is relevant to this study as once ‘good family’ is described as nuclear, everything that is not nuclear is opened up to be seen as a ‘not good family’ without further need to describe or articulate what a not-good (or bad) family is.
Queer theory deconstructs binaries to show inherent power relations. From a queer theory perspective, deconstruction of binary opposites displaces categories and creates a shift in hierarchies, revealing their arbitrary character (Seidman, 1997).
Binary opposites work to naturalise a constructed dual system, thereby concealing the fact that the system is constructed. For instance, Butler (2007 [1990]) reflects on Herculine, a French intersex person of the mid-19th century whose sex assigned at birth was female. Following a medical appointment in which her ‘male’ physical characteristics led the medical physician to declare her as male, Herculine was forced, legally, to live as male even though she identified as female, and this
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resulted in her suicide. Butler explains that the binary system of male/female, discursively created by juridical law, led to Herculine’s demise. Herculine was born completely intact and yet the medical field intervened to construct her so as to fit a constructed binary, with disastrous results. Binaries, therefore, not only work hierarchically to privilege particular identity categories, but also function as a unified whole to naturalise the binary and exclude other ways of existing outside of the duality.
Heteronormativity and Cisnormativity. Heteronormativity and cisnormativity relate to the normalisation and privileging of particular sexuality and gender norms. Each of these concepts represents an important underpinning facet of using queer theory to examine the experiences of GSD parents in school settings.
The term ‘heteronormativity’ was coined by Michael Warner in 1991 in his foundational text Fear of a Queer Planet. Heteronormativity refers to an invisible, yet pervasive, idea within society that heterosexual desire and relationships are natural and normal (Warner, 1993). Further, heteronormativity also represents a prioritisation and assumption of heterosexuality, at social and institutional levels, which is reflected in social relations, as well as laws, policies, and practices (Warner,
1993). Heteronormativity is a regulatory practice that draws on the heterosexual/homosexual binary to position heterosexuality as normal, natural and appropriate, and constructs homosexuality as unnatural, deviant, and the abnormal
Other (Atkinson & DePalma, 2008; Bower & Klecka, 2009; Chambers, 2007;
Mercier & Harold, 2003; Robinson & Ferfolja, 2008). This connects to a queer theoretical understanding of binaries in that within the heterosexual/homosexual binary, heterosexuality is privileged. Heteronormativity is often invisible as it is
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situated within an “assumption that heterosexuality is the common, default sexual orientation that does not warrant any specific attention” (Bower & Klecka, 2009, p.
359). Normative discourses of family privilege a nuclear model, which is grounded in heteronormativity and representative of white, Christian, middle-class morals and values (Davies & Robinson, 2013). This heteronormative model constitutes and regulates the normative citizen subject and underpins the foundations of Western societies (Davies & Robinson, 2013).
While I use the term heteronormativity here as one which is focused on sexuality, it is important to note that this concept is underpinned by normative notions of two, fixed, innate genders (male/female) performed in specific ways
(‘masculinity’/’femininity’). This means that sometimes ‘heteronormativity’ is used within literature to reflect notions of normative sexualities and genders. Increasingly, the term ‘cisnormativity’ is used to recognise the normalisation and naturalisation of the gender binary. I would argue it is important to use the term cisnormativity when discussing gender diversity, rather than subsuming these ideas into the term heteronormativity, as can sometimes occur in the literature. This is especially important given the long history of subsuming issues of gender diversity within those of sexuality diverse populations, both within research and in the LGBTIQ+ community, as the experiences and issues of these populations can be quite unique.
Cisnormativity draws on the term ‘cisgender’, which is formed “from the Latin cis-, meaning ‘on the same side as’” (Aultman, 2014, p. 61). Aultman (2014) states that cisgender refers to:
individuals who possess, from birth and into adulthood, the male or female
reproductive organs (sex) typical of the social category of man or woman
(gender) to which that individual was assigned at birth. Hence a cisgender
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person’s gender is on the same side as their birth-assigned sex, in contrast to
which a transgender person’s gender is on the other side (trans-) of their birth
assigned sex. [parenthesis in original]. (p. 61)
As an example, a person who identifies as being of female gender and whose sex assigned at birth is female would be considered a cisgender individual, or ‘cis woman’, as their assigned sex and gender identity match. It is not uncommon, as
Aultman has done here, for the literature to position transgender identities in binary opposition to those who match the definition of cisgender. Early use of the term in academic literature certainly reflected that cisgender referred to ‘nontransgender’ bodies/identities, and introduction of this terminology aimed to disrupt cisgender privilege, that is, the privileges associated with the ways in which cisgender bodies have been discursively naturalised, both socially and institutionally (Gorton, 2007;
Green, 2006). As such, it is notable that the construction of the term cisgender to this point functions to destabilise the concealed binary of particular ways of doing gender as normal/abnormal and to push beyond the normal/abnormal binary through naming. The naturalisation and normalisation of cisgender bodies leaves such bodies unmarked, and gender diverse persons become marked as the unnatural, abnormal,
Other (Ansara, 2016 [2010]; Aultman, 2014; Bauer et al., 2009). The naturalisation and normalisation of cisgender bodies is termed ‘cisnormativity’.
The term cisnormativity first appeared in academic literature in a paper by
Bauer et al. (2009) about the impacts of erasure of transgender persons in health care.
The authors defined cisnormativity as a pervasive expectation that everyone is cisgendered, that is:
that those assigned male at birth always grow up to be men and those assigned
female at birth always grow up to be women. This assumption is so pervasive that
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it otherwise has not yet been named. Cisnormative assumptions are so prevalent
that they are difficult at first to even recognise. Cisnormativity shapes social
activity such as child rearing, the policies and practices of individuals and
institutions, and the organisation of the broader social world through the ways in
which people are counted and health care is organised. Cisnormativity disallows
the possibility of trans existence or trans visibility. (Bauer et al., 2009, p. 356)
Coming from a cisnormative perspective therefore normalises and naturalises the idea that each person’s assigned sex matches their gender. Such assumptions create erasure, silencing and Othering of gender diverse persons. Similar to the definition of cisgender provided above, this early published definition of cisnormativity positions cis- and trans- in binary opposition to one another. However, one could argue that gender diverse individuals whose gender identity does not fit the male/female binary also fall outside the cisgender norm. For instance, a person who identifies as
‘agender’, ‘non-binary’ or ‘genderqueer’ would fall outside the definition of a cisgender individual because their gender identity does not align with the sex they were assigned at birth. This means that the cis-/trans- binary underlying the original terminology of cisgender and cisnormativity can erase diverse genders that exist outside of the transgender narrative.
Some researchers, however, have challenged the cis-/trans- binary to open up space for the full spectrum of gender diversity (Ansara, 2016 [2010]; Ansara &
Hegarty, 2012, 2014; McNeilly, 2019). Ansara and Hegarty (2012, 2014) go so far as to refuse the terminology of ‘cisgender’, claiming that it reflects notions of essentialism and categorises individuals within an oppositional binary. The authors believe that the ‘cisgender/transgender’ binary represents essentialist thinking and as such, “divert[s] attention away from systemic problems” (Ansara & Hegarty, 2012,
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p. 141). Instead, the authors choose to use the term ‘cisgenderism’ to represent “the ideology that delegitimates people’s own designations of their genders and bodies”
(Ansara & Hegarty, 2014, p. 260). In this way, discourses which position sex and gender as a biological binary work to privilege normative notions of gender at societal and institutional levels, similar to the ways in which heterosexism privileges heterosexual perspectives. Gilbert (2009), in an alternate approach, moves away from
‘cis-’ based language altogether, using the term ‘bigenderism’ to describe the naturalisation/normalisation of two genders, male and female, corresponding with two ‘biological’ sexes in society.
More recently, however, some researchers have expanded upon the definition of cisnormativity to include gender diversity beyond the binary. McNeill (2019), for instance, describes cisnormativity as the “traditional binary system of male and female gender” (p. 35). Similarly, Allen and Mendez (2018) explain that cisnormativity refers to the assumption “that there are only two genders and that our bodies define our gender identity” (p. 75). Catalpa and McGuire (2018) describe cisnormativity as “the notion that assigned sex and gender identity are congruent, fixed, and binary” (p. 89). I will be drawing on these ideas to utilise the term cisnormativity in this document. To clarify, by cisnormativity I refer to the assumption and privileging of the notion that gender occurs in a fixed binary of male/female that matches with one’s sex assigned at birth. Thus cisnormativity, which is often invisible, erases gender diversity and purports that all those who fall within cisgendered male/female parameters are normal and natural.
Given that notions of ‘normal’ and ‘natural’ families are based on a nuclear, male/female, biologically parented structure, concepts of heteronormativity and cisnormativity are integral to this study. Research has shown that schools and
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schooling tend to be grounded in heteronormativity (DePalma & Atkinson, 2010;
DePalma & Jennett, 2010; Ferfolja, 2007a; Renold, 2003, 2006; Ullman & Ferfolja,
2015). Robinson and Davies (2008) argue that “despite the hegemonic discourse that sexuality is irrelevant to children, schooling cultures and official educational documents consistently construct children as heteronormative subjects with heterosexual futures, even when sexual knowledge is absent in the curricula”
(p. 222). Heteronormativity manifests in numerous ways in schools and school communities, such as when choices are made about parental letters, school forms, books, classroom posters, school displays and the topics that teachers and schools should and should not talk about (DePalma & Atkinson, 2010; Epstein & Johnson,
1994; Fox, 2007; McGraw & van Leent, 2018; Robinson & Davies, 2008). Media, political and public reactions to Safe Schools as well as work by Hillier et. al (2010), demonstrate the gender binary is regulated in relation to schooling. Further, research showing that gender norms are reproduced and regulated in schools also demonstrates that cisnormativity is a relevant concept for schools and schooling
(Gray, Harris, & Jones, 2016; Neary, 2018). Theoretical concepts of heteronormativity and cisnormativity, then, are important in deconstructing discursive constructions of family evident within the data of this study.
Sex, gender, desire and the heterosexual matrix Butler’s (2007 [1990]) conceptualisation of the ‘heterosexual matrix’ has proven pivotal to queer theorists and feminists in framing analyses of their research.
This concept is comparable to heteronormativity, although the term heteronormative’ was coined by Warner (1991) after Butler published on the heterosexual matrix.
However, this matrix is also useful in thinking through the concept of cisnormativity.
The heterosexual matrix assists in understanding concepts of heteronormativity,
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cisnormativity and the normative production of sex, gender, and sexuality, at a deeper level.
In order to conceptualise the heterosexual matrix, Butler (2007 [1990]) draws primarily on ideas about the ‘heterosexual contract’ by Monique Wittig and, to a lesser degree, Adrienne Rich’s theorisations about ‘compulsory heterosexuality’ to argue “that gender is routinely produced through a ‘heterosexual matrix’ in which
‘real’ expressions of masculinity and femininity are embedded within a presupposed hegemonic heterosexuality [and thus heterosexuality] becomes the ‘norm’ through which everything else is defined” [parentheses added] (Renold, 2006, p. 493). This means that both gender and sexuality are viewed through a lens of normalised heterosexuality.
Foundational to Butler’s (2007 [1990]) abstractions of the heterosexual matrix is an undertaking of a genealogy of gender ontology. Throughout this genealogy,
Butler contends that sex, gender, sexual practice, and desire, and the relationship between these concepts, are discursively constructed and maintained by hegemonic power structures. She also argues that sex, the biological characteristics denoting one is female or male according to socially constructed categories, is constructed as a binary, and this binary is cast in culture as natural and prediscursive (Butler, 2007
[1990]). Butler points out, however, that although it is constructed as such, sex is not a duality but rather there are multiple formations of sex that fall outside the normalised male/female binary. These non-normative formations include chromosomal differences, hormonal differences, and intersex bodies (Butler, 2007
[1990]). She draws attention to the generative power of juridical systems that discursively construct the male/female binary as ‘natural’, yet medically intervene to adjust bodies that are intact in order to have them fit into this binary construction and
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become what the law considers to be natural (2007 [1990]). Thus, the constructedness of the binary becomes concealed.
According to Butler (2007 [1990], 2011 [1993]), gender represents the performance of oneself as either ‘masculine’ or ‘feminine’. Butler (2007 [1990]) explains that sex is viewed historically as the cause of gender, culminating in particular ‘natural’ gender expressions. She argues that “‘persons’ only become intelligible to society through becoming gendered in conformity with recognisable standards of gender intelligibility” (p. 22). In other words, in order to be culturally comprehensible, gender norms require gender to exist in a binary of male/female in which females are expected to be ‘feminine’ and males to be ‘masculine’. When a person’s gender performance falls outside these gender norms, it is considered unintelligible or incoherent by society (Butler, 2007 [1990]). Butler (2007) explains that culturally and historically, there is a belief that one’s gender expression relates to, or is because of, their biological sex. Butler (2007 [1990]) however, avows sex does not cause gender. Rather, gender is culturally constructed through governing practices that produce intelligible identities and gender norms (Butler, 2007 [1990]).
Butler (2007 [1990]) asserts that these normalised, “‘intelligible’ genders are those which in some sense institute and maintain relations of coherence and continuity among sex, gender, sexual practice, and desire” (p. 23). This is a fundamental concept of the heterosexual matrix. From this perspective, sex, gender, sexual practice and desire are viewed as having causal and flow-on relationships. In other words, if one’s sex assigned at birth is female, her gender identity is expected to be female, her expressed gender ‘feminine’, she is expected to desire men and male body parts, and her sexual practices are undertaken with men. Butler (2007
[1990]) points out however that sex and gender do not cause desire, rather these
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relationships are an effect of hegemonic and regulatory practices. In other words, governing practices reproduce and generate a naturalised and compulsory heterosexuality. Furthermore, Butler claims that compulsory heterosexuality produces a uniformity of gender and suggests that univocal constructions of gender and sexuality binaries are discursively produced in such a way that these binaries appear “natural”. Hegemony is therefore consolidated and increasingly generated.
In critiquing both psychoanalytic and feminist theory, Butler (2007 [1990]) demonstrates that some theorists view gender and sexuality as socially constructed, while others view these aspects of identity as pre-discursive, thereby having meaning prior to entering culture and language. Butler examines structuralist perspectives of gender and sexuality suggesting that gender and sexuality are socially constructed and she demonstrates that gender norms and a normalised heterosexuality are discursively constructed. As for those who view gender and sexuality as pre- discursive, Butler views this as impossible because something cannot exist outside the very language and laws that cause its existence.
Butler (2007 [1990]) suggests that viewing gender and sexuality as either pre- discursive or socially constructed is unhelpful as it removes focus “away from the concrete terms of contemporary cultural struggle” (p. 52). She contends that regulatory practices as well as essentialist and structuralist discourses not only prohibit and mandate gender and sexuality in particular forms, they also produce distinct gender identities and heterosexual desire. In addition, these prohibitions and directives also produce a multiplicity of substitute identities and desires that can only exist because a matrix of gender and sexuality norms is present (Butler, 2007
[1990]). Butler makes it clear that this production is concealed over time and therefore normative constructions of gender and sexuality are naturalised rather than
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being acknowledged as an effect of, or as being produced by, regulatory practices.
She explains that this is a production of power, indicating what is culturally acceptable and not acceptable, intelligible and unintelligible, and thereby designating who is marginalised and excluded in dominant cultures. Thus, the heterosexual matrix provides a useful framework for deconstructing dominant discourses that may underpin GSD parent experiences in schools and the production of power as it assists in deconstructing normative, and often concealed, discourses of gender, sexuality, and family.
Although the matrix provides a useful framework, it is important not to view this conceptualisation as the ‘natural order of things’ as this perspective reproduces and generates the matrix (Atkinson & DePalma, 2009). Butler noted in a 1994 interview this tendency toward viewing the heterosexual matrix as a “kind of totalising symbolic” and, to allow flexibility and the possibility for change, she modified the terminology to “heterosexual hegemony” [italics in original] (Butler,
Osborne, & Segal, 1994, p. 36). Unfortunately, by this time, the term heterosexual matrix was already used prominently and had been widely drawn upon in queer and feminist theoretical analyses (Atkinson & DePalma, 2009). Atkinson and DePalma raise the possibility that researchers who view the matrix as a totalising symbol are complicit in producing “heteronormativity by consent” (p. 18). They state that
“through naming and believing the heterosexual matrix and identifying evidence of its operation, we reify, reinforce and reinscribe it, even as we attempt to subvert, unsettle or deconstruct it.” (p. 17). This suggests that by treating the heterosexual matrix as a totalising symbol, it is reinforced and reproduced. Atkinson and DePalma suggest in order to change consenting heteronormativity, an approach of ‘un- believing’ the matrix is required. This involves a queering of the heterosexual matrix,
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an unsettling and disorganising rather than resisting, and a breaking of sedimented heteronormative meanings and reinscribing new meanings (Atkinson & DePalma,
2009). In the analysis of data for this project, I have been careful not to see the heterosexual matrix as a totalising symbol as this reifies it as a technology of power.
By this I mean that my analysis was also underpinned by Butler’s (1997b, 2011
[1993]) theoretical conception of performativity which contends that that interruptions to norms through alternate performance can create critical openings for changes to the normative horizon. Performativity will now be discussed.
Performativity. Performativity is another concept developed by Judith Butler and is prominent in queer theory. The concept of performativity rejects essentialist notions of gender as a pre-linguistic, internal essence existing within the individual, instead declaring that gendered meanings are regulatory fictions inscribed onto bodies and produced through performative practices (Butler, 2007 [1990]). The concept of performativity therefore advocates that rather than a person being a particular gender, as is suggested through utterances such as “I am female” or “I am a woman”, gender is an action (Butler, 2007 [1990]). In other words, gender is something that we do, rather than something we are. More specifically, Butler (2007 [1990]) describes gender as
“the repeated stylisation of the body, a set of repeated [material and linguistic] acts within a highly rigid regulatory frame that congeal over time to produce the appearance of substance, of a natural sort of being” [parentheses added] (p. 45).
Thus, Butler argues that gender norms are both reproduced and generated through repeated speech and bodily practices within compulsory frameworks that regulate the appearance of gender (Butler, 2007 [1990]).
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Repeated gender expressions are considered to be the cause of gender, rather than the effect (Butler, 2007 [1990]) and the performative subject is not a voluntary or choosing participant (Butler, 2011 [1993]). This means that gendered repetitions are not a conscious, intentional doing, rather they are an unconscious production or
‘becoming’ of the subject (Salih, 2007). These repetitions form part of the citational chain (also known as chains of signification) that signify gender and sexuality and
(re)produce these concepts in accordance with dominant norms (Butler, 2011
[1993]). In other words, each reiteration of a bodily or speech act forms part of a citational chain that reinforces the norm. In this process, the subject is implicated, as a part of the paradox of subjection, in reiterating the conditions of power.
For Butler (2011 [1993]), each iteration of the citational chain also holds the possibility of an altered performance of cultural norms. When a performance is repeated in a way that differs from the normative horizon, this interrupts the citational chain, creating a critical opening for the possible resignification and new ways of doing (Butler, 2004). This concept underpins Butler’s conception of agency.
Butler’s (1997b, 2011 [1993]) theory of performativity contends that agency is not deliberate, yet it disrupts and unsettles, and because it works within the norms that already exist, an altered repetition demonstrates that “social norms are porous and can be reworked” (Gowlett, 2014, p. 416).
Butler (2007 [1990]) also draws attention to subjects who resist gender norms, stating that these resistances are enabled, and possibly generated, by the very norms being resisted (Butler, 2007 [1990]). From this perspective, Butler is suggesting that even agency and resistance are produced by the very regulatory systems that attempt to constrain and dictate the boundaries within which gender appears natural in accordance with one’s biology. Butler’s assertion that resistance is produced by the
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regulatory systems that one is resisting is a powerful point. Thus, resistances reported by parents in this study are analysed as a product of the very same cultural norms that the participant is resisting.
Butler’s account could be considered to imply a subject “trapped within a discourse it has no power to evade or to alter” (Salih, 2007, p. 58). Claims such as this, where the subject is considered to be merely an effect of language with no active agency, are implicit in arguments claiming that queer and poststructuralist theories are apolitical (Bunch, 2013). Bunch (2013) draws on Butler’s later writings to advocate a process of “unbecoming” and demonstrates that Butler, in fact, advocates a more political goal. She suggests that through ‘unbecoming’, which involves ‘a queering of the subject’ (p. 39), it may be possible to transform the social conditions that oppress those who do not fit into heteronormative gender and sexual categories.
Intersectionality. Although queer theory challenges binaries, heteronormativity, and cisnormativity, through the deconstruction and destabilisation of fixed identity categories, it has been criticised for being an outcome of racial dominance, class and privilege, and therefore ignoring intersections of identity (Wimberly, 2015). Much of the literature accessed for this chapter acknowledges the importance of understanding, and taking into account, the intersections of class, race, gender,
(dis)ability, ethnicity, age, and religion, and their relationships to power (Bank et al.,
2007; Giffney, 2009; Taylor, 2009). GSD persons experiencing these intersections are likely to encounter multiple facets of discrimination and, as such, it is essential to acknowledge intersections of identity to ensure an intersectional analysis of power when undertaking queer work (Cohen, 1997).
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The integral importance of intersectionality was solidified for me in 2016 at a vigil to honour the victims of a mass shooting at a gay club in Orlando, which resulted in 49 people being killed and 53 wounded. I attended the vigil because I struggled with the lack of acknowledgement by Australian media that this was an attack on the LGBTIQ+ community and could constitute a hate crime. I felt that the sexuality aspect had been rendered invisible to the discourses of terrorism and this had a significant impact on me. Hundreds of people gathered for the vigil and several speeches were made to honour the victims and provide comfort to attendees. At the very end of the vigil, an audience member approached the microphone and shared their identification as Latino, Apache, Trans and that they felt it had been made invisible at the vigil that the majority of these victims were Latino. In that moment, I realised that inadvertently, the sexual identity of the victims had been privileged at the vigil and their race rendered invisible. Lack of acknowledgement of intersections can be common in identity politics, as has been discussed earlier in this chapter. This situation demonstrates that sexuality can be privileged in LGBTIQ+ identity politics, and highlights the importance of recognising intersections of identity. Some GSD persons identify more strongly with other aspects of identity such as race, religion and ability, while their GSD status represents just a small part of their identity
(Valocchi, 2005). I was conscious in data analysis to consider of intersections of identity in order to consider other privileges influencing subjection and the production of power.
Together, these concepts (subjection and norms of recognition/intelligibility; categories of identity; queer as a verb; binaries; heteronormativity/cisnormativity; the heterosexual matrix, performativity, and intersectionality) are brought together to form a conceptual framing for this project. These concepts provide a framework for
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analysis and deconstruction of normative discourses to understand how power works to produce GSD families within schooling spaces as well as interruptions and resistances to these discursive positionings.
Conclusion
This chapter has positioned the study reported in the thesis within a queer theoretical framework. Queer theory is a conceptually slippery field that draws on concepts such instability, resistance, disruption, de-centring, questioning, deconstruction, interrogation, transgression, denaturalising, subversion, and so on, in order to interrupt normative and naturalised ways of seeing, thinking, being, and doing. Queer theory has been influenced by the cultural, political, and intellectual histories that have preceded and progressed through the development of queer theory as a way of understanding the world. Key moments in this history include shifts from thinking of homosexuality as a sinful act to an identity, the disciplining of homosexuality in diverse ways over time, and the medicalisation of gender and sexual diversity through psychoanalytic categorisation. Moreover, queer activism, particularly gay liberationists who resisted, disrupted and challenged normative notions of sexuality, as well as feminist poststructuralism, have contributed significantly to the development of queer intellectual thought. As a way to explain the key tenets of queer theory I laid out eight key concepts within queer theory relevant to my study. Specifically, I discussed subjection and norms of recognition/intelligibility; categories of identity; queer as a verb; binaries; heteronormativity and cisnormativity; Butler’s conception of the heterosexual matrix; Butler’s theory of performativity, and intersectionality. It is worth noting that recent gender theorising has also embraced theories of affect, and indeed the affective turn is currently a focus in many other fields as well. These new theories
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open up new ways of thinking about connections between emotions, materiality of the body, and relations of power. Theories of affect have not been utilised in this thesis, however, as the analysis focused on deconstructing the ways in which circulating discourses and the materiality of the body come together to constrain and enable GSD parents as they navigate their children’s schools.
A queer theoretical approach was chosen for this research project because it is political, deconstructive, explores power, and is underpinned by several key tenets useful in analysing the data collected for this research project. Having now examined the theoretical framework for this study in detail, the research questions that are the focus can be rearticulated as follows:
1. What are the reported experiences of GSD parents in primary school settings in Queensland, given that schools can be spaces that reproduce and reinforce heteronormativity and cisnormativity?
2. What do GSD parents report to be the enablements and constraints of primary school education practices as they parent in GSD families?
3. What are the implications of these enablements and constraints for GSD parents and their families in primary schools?
Utilising a queer conceptual framework in this study provides a foundation for troubling and deconstructing the discourses which can constrain and enable GSD parented families as they engage with primary schools for their children’s education.
To take these theoretical ideas forward I called on a narrative inquiry frame which allowed me to explore the lived experiences of participants through the collection of rich and detailed data. In the chapter that follows I will examine this frame and other aspects of my research design and methodology, including methods, participants, analysis, reliability/validity, and ethics.
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Chapter 4: Storying Families, Storying Lives:
Research Design and Methodology
The task of this thesis is to explore the experiences of GSD parents in primary schools, in a context where school systems and practices might reproduce heteronormativity and cisnormativity. In this study, I wanted to consider the enablements and constraints of primary school education practices, and the implications of these, for GSD parents and families. In the thesis so far, I have outlined the socio-political context in which the research was conducted, by positioning it within broader public debates about same-sex marriage and moral panics relating to inclusion of GSD concepts in schools. In Chapter 2, I explored current literature related to the topic. I began by examining constructions of family, particularly the normalisation of the nuclear family model and practices of Othering
GSD families. I then undertook an examination of parent engagement and strong family-school relationships, and noted that family-school relationships are considered important to positive outcomes for children both in school and later life.
It was shown that power can function in family-school relationships in ways which support school agendas, rather than families. This discussion provided important insights to take on board as this thesis proceeds, particularly as there is limited research on the thesis topic. Of the limited research which has explored GSD parent experiences in educational settings, there were numerous matters raised in the literature, such as school choice, disclosure, children’s safety and wellbeing, as well as GSD inclusive policy, curricula and resources. This research project employed a queer theoretical framework. While queer theories represent multiple perspectives which sometimes diverge and sometimes overlap, in Chapter 3, I outlined several
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key concepts underpinning this theoretical lens in all its diversity. Queer theory underpinned the theoretical analysis of the study and, as such, has also informed the methodology employed.
This chapter provides an outline of the research design for the study. It begins with a brief overview of the study as a way of providing a grounding for the research project and some justification for my methodological choices. A poststructuralist approach to narrative inquiry (Blumenreich, 2004) formed the foundations of my methodological approach and as such this is unpacked in the second section of this chapter, before I move to detail issues of methodology. In terms of data analysis, I unpack relevant approaches to narrative analysis, explaining my decision-making process in settling on dialogic/performance narrative analysis (Riessman, 2008). I finish this chapter by dealing with concepts of reliability, validity, and ethical considerations of this research project.
The Research Project
The aim of this study was to explore the reported experiences of GSD parents in primary schools. In investigating these experiences, I drew on two types of data.
Much of the analysis reported in this thesis (in Chapters 6 and 7) is a result of a dialogic/performance analysis of interview data collected from 12 GSD parents across 7 families using semi-structured interviews. In analysing this data, I aimed to investigate the enablements and constraints reported by GSD parents in relation to engaging with the schools their child/ren attended, as well as the implications of these enablements and constraints for GSD families. In the analysis, I examined ways in which power functions within schools in relation to diverse families. The research design and methodology underpinning the collection and analysis of interview data will be unpacked in this chapter in detail.
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The narrative analysis of interview data sits within a context of circulating discourses about family within media, public, and political commentary, some of which position GSD parents and families as unintelligible. So, in Chapter 5, I set the context for this study through an analysis of an additional data set, that being a corpus of political, media and public commentary and texts across three moments in the same-sex marriage debate between 2004 and 2017. More specifically, this analysis draws on commentary and texts which opposed same-sex marriage to unpack some of the normative discourses of family, gender and sexuality operating in society. As schools do not operate in a social vacuum, GSD parents may need to engage with these discourses on a day to day basis as they navigate schools and as such this analysis lays an important foundation for considering the experiences of
GSD parents in primary schools. While I introduce this data set in the current chapter, the details of the corpus and approach to analysis of the commentary and texts will be unpacked more fully in Chapter 5.
I drew on queer theory in analysing both sets of data. Although queer theory is able to sit comfortably in dismantling knowledges without needing to replace these with clear answers (Gowlett, 2014), my objective in this research was to offer some recommendations for schools in relation to recognition and family diversity.
Taking a Narrative Inquiry Approach
This project investigated the experiences of GSD parents in primary schools and employed a solely qualitative approach which utilised a poststructural narrative research design. To provide a foundational understanding of narrative inquiry more broadly, I begin this section with an overview of narrative inquiry as it has been used in education research and related fields and examine the idea of experience-centred narratives. Experience-centred narratives operate within broader social and
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discursive contexts and offer rich and detailed data in which to explore the lived experiences of participants. Narrative inquiry focused on experience-centred narratives is, therefore, ideal for exploring the experiences of GSD parents in educational contexts. There are multiple approaches to narrative inquiry in research, including post-positivist, constructivist, critical, and poststructural (Hollingsworth &
Dybdahl, 2007; Riessman, 2008). In fact, Riessman (2008) views narrative researchers as a family in which there are many different perspectives and disagreements. I will now discuss some of these variances, settling, in particular, on poststructural narrative inquiry as the approach chosen for this study.
Narrative inquiry in educational research. Narrative inquiry refers to research that involves stories (Barkhuizen et al.,
2014). A respect for the ordinary, lived experiences of participants is a foundational aspect of this approach (Clandinin, 2013). While there are multiple approaches to this methodology, including event-centric narratives which involve spoken recounts of specific past events experienced by the narrator (Squire, Andrews, & Tamboukou,
2008), in this project experience-centred narratives, which provide a space for intimate exploration of a person’s experience over time and within particular contexts (Caine, Estefan, & Clandinin, 2013), were the foundation of the methodological approach.
An experience-centred approach to narrative research allows for the interweaving of present, past, and future narratives (Patterson, 2008) and “an exploration of the social, cultural, and institutional narratives within which individuals’ experiences [are] constituted, shaped, expressed, and enacted – but in a way that begins and ends that inquiry in the storied lives of the people involved”
[parentheses added] (Clandinin & Rosiek, 2007, p. 42). In other words, both the
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person who shares their personal narratives and the contexts in which these personal narratives exist are central to the narrative inquiry. In this project, the narratives of
GSD parents and the contexts in which these narratives were shaped, that is, primary schools and the broader social context, were central to the inquiry. In focusing closely on the narratives and contexts of participants, narrative inquiry comprises the sharing of lengthy, bounded excerpts of participant narratives, allowing individual experiences and contexts to be retained and explored. The focus on individual stories is in alignment with a queer theoretical lens, due to its resistance to homogeneity.
GSD parents are not a homogenous group and, as such, a narrative approach provided a method for considering rich and detailed data about a variety of lived experiences of the participants.
The ways in which “experience” is viewed in an experience-centred approach to narrative inquiry make narrative an ideal choice for this project. Experience is viewed in diverse ways depending upon the ontological perspective of the researcher.
Clandinin (2013) and Clandinin and Connelly (2000), key figures in the narrative inquiry field, claim Dewey’s view of experience aligns with and underpins this methodological approach. According to Clandinin and Connelly (2000), Dewey considered experience as both social and personal, believing that while persons need to be understood as individuals, they also need to be understood as being in relation due to the social contexts in which they operate, including community. The authors also draw on Dewey to argue that experiences have an underlying history that leads to the cultivation of new experiences, and therefore all experiences have a past, present, and a future (Clandinin & Connelly, 2000).
Narrative inquiry allows scholars to gain insight into multiple layers of meaning and to bring these, sometimes contradicting layers, together in order to
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describe and develop deeper understandings of individuals, groups and societies
(Riessman, 2008; Squire et al., 2008). Furthermore, “narratives do political work”
(Riessman, 2008, p. 8). Given the political nature of the topic of this research project and that heteronormative and cisnormative perspectives have regularly been privileged within moral panics about inclusion of gender and sexual diversity within schools (Law, 2017; Robinson, 2008, 2013; Robinson & Davies, 2018; Thompson,
2018, 2019), this study aims to provide a platform where GSD parents’ perspectives and experiences can be explored.
Narrative inquiry acknowledges that a complex relationship exists between narrative, memory, and time, and that past experiences are revised and edited in line with present identities (Riessman, 2008). This highlights that stories need to be
“considered in context, for storytelling occurs at a historical moment with its circulating discourses and power relations” (Riessman, 2008, p. 8). Thus, the narratives shared by GSD parents in this study are embedded within a culturally and historically specific period (see Appendix A for a timeline of events which includes when interviews were undertaken). The interviews were undertaken at a time in which same-sex marriage laws had not yet been passed within Australia. Further, widespread moral panic about inclusion of concepts of gender and sexual diversity in education also contributed to discourses circulating at the time the research was undertaken.
There are several ways to approach narrative inquiry for research purposes, including post-positivist, constructivist and critical approaches (Hollingsworth &
Dybdahl, 2007). Hollingsworth and Dybdahl (2007) explain these approaches with regard to narrative. They state that from a post-positivist perspective, the narrative researcher controls the direction of the narration and is positioned as objectively
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separate to participants. In contrast, from a constructivist perspective, although the researcher usually has more control in choosing the narrative topics, the participants’ interpretations and intentions are considered as being as important as those of the researcher. From a critical perspective, controlling the direction of narrative shifts between the researchers and participants. No separation exists between the narrator and the researcher within a critical view; each is considered to be involved in co- constructing the narrative and the identity of the researcher is part of the research design (Hollingsworth & Dybdahl, 2007). Further, Riessman (2008) contends that not only do practices undertaken by the researcher when eliciting stories critically shape narratives that are collected, but transcription and interpretive practices also form part of this process. The relationships that can develop between participant and researcher during the narrative inquiry process create a depth and richness and offer insights that would otherwise be impossible (Craig & Huber, 2007). In terms of the production of data, this study takes the later view, that of a critical perspective. A critical view aligns with a poststructuralist approach to narrative, due to the acknowledgement of the co-construction of data.
As mentioned earlier in the chapter, this project utilises poststructural narrative inquiry, but this is not an uncontested field. Clandinin and Rosiek (2007) claim a narrative framework does not support a poststructuralist approach. They argue that unlike a narrative inquiry approach where experiences are viewed as primary sources of insight and knowledge, considering experiences from a poststructuralist viewpoint frames them as discursive constructions inviting critique. Clandinin and Rosiek view conventional narrative inquiry as a methodology for creating change and criticise poststructuralist accounts of narrative inquiry for merely describing the world – for deconstructing without reconstructing. Posthuman theorising has also critiqued a
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focus on the discursive in poststructuralism (Barad, 2007). Such claims have obvious implications for this study given that queer theory draws on both poststructuralist and feminist poststructuralist frameworks.
However, perspectives that narrative cannot be undertaken within a poststructural framework have also been critiqued (see for example Riessman, 2008; and Squire et al., 2008). These critiques suggest narrative research can be conceptualised as cross-disciplinary and encompasses several strands, including constructionist, poststructuralist, and realist. This view reflects the position I took in this study, in that I acknowledge the social positioning of narratives as discourses and that stories, in their construction and interpretation, are grounded in subjectivity.
A poststructural approach to narrative inquiry provides a foundation for working with narratives in this way. I move now to detail aspects critical to this approach, drawing on Blumenreich’s (2004) poststructural critique of ‘conventional’ narratives.
Poststructural approach to narrative inquiry. A poststructural approach to narrative inquiry challenges the ‘traditional’ narrative view of the subject as “an autonomous individual capable of negotiating the world in a unique way” and positions the subject as a function and effect of discourse
(Blumenreich, 2004, p. 77). Blumenreich’s (2004) poststructural critique of conventional narratives is instructive here. This critique highlights several tensions between traditional narrative research and poststructural narrative research and provides some suggestions for working with narrative through a poststructuralist lens. Key to this poststructural way of thinking is avoiding totalising depictions and notions of ‘truth’, as well as thinking through researcher identity and power. The importance of resisting unambiguous solutions and conclusions that stabilise meaning is also discussed here. There is a crucial feature of the style of narrative
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inquiry employed in this thesis that requires that I challenge dominant discourses in taking this approach to narrative inquiry. To do this I draw on the work of
Blumenreich who cautions poststructural researchers to ensure a rigorous approach by avoiding simplistic or romanticised accounts of participant experiences that unquestioningly draw on dominant discourses. I now discuss the tensions highlighted above in Blumenreich’s work and discuss some of the ways I worked with these tensions during data collection, analysis and reporting.
Avoiding totalising depictions and notions of ‘truth’. When utilising a poststructural approach to narrative inquiry it is important to avoid totalising depictions of participants and notions of ‘truth’. Blumenreich (2004) argues that conventional approaches to narrative inquiry tend to rely on totalising depictions of participants whereby lengthy excerpts of the subject’s direct speech are used “as a way to capture the ‘truth’” while the voice of the researcher, who co- constructs the narrative through the interview and interpretive process, is absent
(p.77). Such an approach is problematic as there are multiple “subtle interpretive aspects to research” that influence the forms of participant narratives as they are produced, such as questions asked by the researcher and how the researcher listens and responds (Blumenreich, 2004, p. 80). To reconcile these issues, Blumenreich provides several suggestions. Her first relates to resisting “a totalising interpretation that claims to be a singular, ‘accurate’ version” of participants’ lives (p. 80). She notes that from a poststructuralist narrative research perspective, individuals are considered to be continuously constituted and reconstituted through discursive processes and their identities never ‘fixed’. Viewing identities as fluid aligns with a queer theoretical framework and is therefore highly relevant to this study.
Blumenreich suggests that one approach to resist constructing participants in such
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ways is to ensure the fluidity of identity and complexities of the lives of participants are presented in narratives. Furthermore, she discusses choices with regards to language and thinking, as well as in ‘evoking’ the character of participants in ways that invite, rather than exclude, interpretation by the reader.
Within this research project, I worked with this concept by keeping in mind the nuances within and across narratives and interviews to prevent totalising depictions. I found this to be a challenging process at times, particularly because word limits meant that I could not report on every detail of the extensive nuances and connections between and across participant narratives. However, in my interpretation, analysis, and reporting of narrative data, I have been careful not to be reductive with regard to participants and their stories. As one example, this consideration was foundational in my decision making when writing Chapter 7, in which the narratives of just a few participants are discussed as case studies. Taking this approach allowed many of the nuances within the data to be incorporated in analysis and discussion. With regard to couple interviews, I was careful to only talk about concepts as shared if these ideas were co-constructed in dialogue (this includes one member of the couple verbally agreeing with the other). Further, if a member of a couple expressed a different view from their partner within the interview or did not agree verbally, this was not represented as a view of both persons. Additionally, in accordance with a queer theoretical approach, I did not ask participants to define their identities as this represents a form of enforced categorisation which could, itself, be considered totalising and lacking acknowledgement of fluidity. Some participants shared identity categories as a part of their narratives without prompting, including some stories of fluidity of identity, and where this has occurred I have considered this to be data. Finally, where I have shared lengthy bounded segments of
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text within the thesis, I have included my own speech turns, and the turns of both participants in couple interviews, to make explicit the co-construction of interview data. In doing this I have aimed to make visible the co-construction of narratives between participant/s and researcher.
Considering researcher identity and power. A second concern Blumenreich (2004) raises about narrative inquiry relates to the researcher’s own identity and power. She contends that it is essential for researchers to understand their position in the project as researcher, as well as the investment social scientists may have “in the sociohistorical discourses which [they] try to undermine and in the alternatives toward which [they] strive” [parenthesis added] (p. 85). In other words, researchers are subjective, constrained by sociocultural discourses, and often interested in creating alternate futures. Youdell
(2006) effectively describes discursive constraints when she discusses looking for circulating discourses within research contexts and researcher subjectivity:
I am looking for moments in which subjects are constituted and in which
constituted subjects act. I am looking for discourses and their subjectivating
effects. I ask myself what discourses might be circulating inside and/or across
school contexts, how these are being deployed, what their effects might be. While
at times it seems that discourses and their effects are clearly evident, more often it
seems that these are subtle and oblique, needing to be teased out, to be
deconstructed…. This is not the collection of ‘real’ or ‘actual’ discourses, but is
wholly constrained by my own discursive repertoire – the discourse that I see and
name – and my capacity to represent these. I am, then, absolutely entangled in the
data I generate and the representations I produce. (p. 513)
This is demonstrative of a reflexive understanding by Youdell (2006), of herself as a researcher. While she is seeking to examine discourses, she makes clear that her
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interpretations, conceptions, and research findings are constrained by her own subjectivation through discourse and that there is no universal truth that she is exposing. Further, in acknowledging the paradox of subjectivation, in that a subject is both produced by, and produces, discourse, Youdell explains:
I am seeking to construct compelling representations of moments inside school in
order to untangle the discursive frames that guide meaning and render subjects
within it. My research process is unavoidably implicated in the very
subjectivating process about which it speaks. (p. 513)
In other words, in untangling circulating discourses within data and representing the findings of that analysis, the researcher, as a subject, is also part of the production of discourse. These concepts fit within Blumenreich’s notion of the researcher’s own identity and power in narrative inquiry.
The awareness that my research was constrained by discourse and produced by discourse was evident within the research process I planned and implemented. For instance, one participant, Timothy, explained in an interview that while his daughter viewed him as a dad since his transition to male, he viewed himself as a male mother, in the sense of reflecting a cultural role – that of mother. Prior to this discussion, I had never considered that a male-identifying person would view themselves as a mother. Rather, I conceptualised that a male-identifying person would identify as father, a female-identifying person as mother, and those who did not identify with either gender (or did so fluidly) may identify differently. In the discussion with Timothy, I realised that my own views of mother and father labelling related to notions of gender and were thus constrained by my own discursive repertoire. This moment with Timothy led to a change in my understanding of parenting labels. It provides a good example of Butler’s (2011 [1993]) concept of
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performativity and offers insight into how norms can be interrupted, creating critical openings to new ways of thinking and being. Further, this example demonstrates how a researcher is entangled in the data, as well as representations of their projects, and how these interpretations and representations are constrained by one’s own discursive repertoire. There are a multitude of individual and community experiences that contribute to my discursive positioning. I am unable to separate myself from these experiences, nor the discourses that have been involved in my subjectivation.
As such, I am entangled in the data I co-construct, interpretations of data, and the way I report and represent data.
With regard to the subject as productive of discourse, I was acutely aware of this in my role of researcher as well. In response to Allen’s (2015) deconstruction of the victim/hero binary, I was thoughtful about my own conceptualisations, particularly of GSD persons as victims of personal and institutional discrimination. It is worth noting that the interviews for this research were undertaken at a time that same-sex marriage was not legal in Australia, with the final two occurring during a period of public consultation about whether same-sex couples should be granted these rights. At this time, I, and many others in the queer community, felt victimised as a result of the same-sex marriage postal survey, the Safe Schools uproar, and the
Religious Freedom Review, among other historical and ongoing contextual situations. This period required extensive reflexivity on my part, and I had many conversations with my supervisors regarding this. I am very conscious of attempting to work in a way that does not (re)produce the victim/hero binary and have attempted to work with this by focusing on the workings of knowledge/power by drawing on queer theoretical concepts. This is an ongoing challenge. Blumenreich (2004) notes that researchers often wish to interrupt sociocultural discourses and assist in the
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creation of alternate futures. I certainly resonate with this and so, again, this requires a reflexive awareness. One of the ways I worked with this was to remember that queer theory is able to sit comfortably in dismantling knowledges without needing to replace these with clear answers (Gowlett, 2014).
As a final note, in discussing the researcher’s identity and power, Blumenreich
(2004) reminds us that the multiple identities of a researcher and institutional power are also important to consider. She highlights that her own identities as mother, researcher, teacher, and so on, constantly shift during the research process and claims that these identities both assist and disrupt the research process. Similarly, my identities as queer, cis-female with a gender diverse partner, member of the
LGBTIQ+ community, student, teacher, aunt, daughter, researcher, and so on, have both assisted and disrupted my research process. In addition, during the candidature time of my doctoral studies, I learned more about my ancestors as I connected with family who were able to share some stories of my mob. Much of the culture, stories, and histories of my Aboriginal ancestors have been lost to me and others in my generation, as over time invasion and colonisation, the privileging of non-Indigenous knowledges, as well as racist and oppressive government policies have had their effect. I continue to consider how being Aboriginal might position with these other more familiar dimensions of my identity. Blumenreich also identifies that researchers hold institutional power and that the narratives a researcher constructs may not represent participants in the same ways they might represent themselves. This particular aspect of not representing participants as they might represent themselves has been a challenging concept for me due to my own subjectivation, and one I will need to continue to be reflexive of as I develop and grow as a researcher. It is useful to note that Blumenreich does not provide resolutions for the tensions discussed
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above, apart from suggesting a self-reflexive awareness. I aim to add to this conversation through this research project.
Resisting unambiguous solutions and stable meanings. A further criticism Blumenreich (2004) makes of conventional narrative research is that narrative researchers often attempt to provide unambiguous solutions or conclusions that stabilise meaning. A poststructural approach to narrative inquiry allows space for multiple interpretations as well as space for no resolutions to be reached. In the preceding theoretical chapter, it was noted that queer theory also resists the urge to create resolutions and stable meanings, and thus a poststructural approach to narrative inquiry allows for multiple perspectives in analysis and the notion that there is no singular ‘truth’. As such, using a queer theoretical lens in analysis and discussion challenged me to resist unambiguous solutions and conclusions that stabilise meaning. For instance, in Chapter 6, where I deconstructed the production of families in schools using queer theoretical concepts such as binaries, my focus was on examining the workings of subjection, power, norms and discourse. In focusing on these aspects, possibilities opened up for the exposure, disruption and troubling of norms. This kind of approach helps to expose the porousness of norms, opening them up to possible resignification. However, I have been careful not to attempt to provide clear-cut answers or conclusions that stabilise meaning, as such an approach fails to recognise the complexities of subjection, power, norms, and discourse.
Challenging dominant discourses. Finally, Blumenreich (2004) advocates the importance of challenging dominant discourses in society and ensuring the struggles of participants are not romanticised through simplistic accounts of their experiences. In her research, Blumenreich
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challenges the dominant discourse of HIV-positive children as heroes who pay for the sins of their mothers. This is relevant to the current research as dominant discourses within queer research can position queer participants within a dualistic binary of either ‘heroes’ or ‘victims’ (Allen, 2015), as noted earlier. Similarly, other dominant discourses such as that of ‘pride’ suggest that not being ‘out’ means one is ashamed, a view Rasmussen (2004) warns against. Furthermore, as has been discussed in previous chapters, some examples of dominant discourses relating to
GSD parents in politics/media are: (i) from the conservative right and moral entrepreneurs: against nature, selfish, dangerous, and; (ii) from equality discourses: no different to heterosexual parents. There are dominant discourses regarding parenting as well, such as motherhood discourses, which position mothers as non- sexual, child-centred and responsible for domestic work, and fatherhood discourses which produce fathers as breadwinners, disciplinarians, and involved in external work rather than childrearing or domestic duties. Using a poststructuralist approach to narrative inquiry provided opportunities to challenge these and other dominant discourses. In addition, consistent with Silverman’s (2007) perspectives on qualitative analysis, Blumenreich describes the importance of representing a range of experiences when presenting narrative inquiries, including the mundane, so as not to construct participants’ lives as exotic.
The above concepts were considered consistently during data analysis and writing and were evident in many ways. For instance, one participant spoke of telling the principal that he was willing to share his journey of gender transition with other parents who might be concerned about including concepts of gender diversity in education. It would be easy to see this experience through a victim lens, that is, in the sense that he shouldn’t have to explain himself to a parent community to be
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understood, or a hero lens, in that he is doing something amazing by offering.
Blumenreich’s critique suggests, however, that by challenging these discourses, one can deconstruct the processes that underly them. Similarly, when discussing findings in Chapter 6 regarding the production of families as nuclear, I needed to reflexively challenge victimhood discourses. Rather, I focused on the ways in which discourses and power underpin recognition in order to better understand how these discourses work to produce families in particular ways.
Bringing poststructural narrative inquiry to the study of GSD parents and primary schools. A poststructural approach to narrative inquiry challenges some of the characteristics of conventional narratives that do not fit within a poststructuralist frame. From a poststructural viewpoint, narratives are co-constructed between researcher and interviewee. The researcher needs to be reflexively aware of the institutional power they carry, their subjectivity, their own social constraints, and that their own identities influence data production and interpretation. Poststructural narratives view participants (and researchers) as a function and effect of discourse, and as having fluid and multiple identities. Thus a poststructural approach to narrative research discourages reducing participants to totalising, unitary representations. Within a poststructural narrative space, challenging dominant social discourses is encouraged.
Although Clandinin and Rosiek (2007) claim that narrative inquiry cannot be grounded in poststructuralism, narrative research is cross-disciplinary and encompasses several strands, including constructionist, poststructuralist, and realist approaches (Riessman, 2008; Squire et al., 2008). These multiple approaches reflect that there are debates about the foundations of narrative inquiry (Riessman, 2008;
Squire et al., 2008), however I take up the position of Riessman (2008) and Squire et
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al. (2008) that narrative inquiry can be implemented from a poststructuralist perspective. As such, this study employs the methodology of poststructural narrative inquiry with an experience-centred approach.
In this research project, I have explored the lived experiences of GSD parents in navigating the schools their children attend. Throughout the study, these stories have been acknowledged as co-constructions between participant/s and researcher. In my role as researcher, constrained by my own subjection through discourse, I have been deeply entangled in the production and interpretation of these stories. I have attempted to be self-reflexive in this process, aware of ways in which my multiple identities assist and disrupt the research process and by consciously untangling and challenging dominant discourses. The focus in much of the analysis within this project has been on exploring and untangling the ways in which power, subjection, and discourses work to (re)produce norms in relation to GSD parents and families within schooling contexts. Further, in alignment with a queer theoretical approach, I have worked with the understanding that there needs to be comfort in dismantling knowledges without needing to replace them with clear answers.
Design and Methods
In order to investigate the experiences of GSD parents as they navigate the schools their children attend, I utilised an ‘active interview’ method as introduced by
Holstein and Gubrium (1995). This method recognises the co-construction of interview data and allows space for participants to ask questions of the interviewer and a mutual sharing of stories between researcher and participant. The interviewer is not considered as neutral/dispassionate in an active interview and although they play an important role in scoping the interview, there is a fluidity that allows for greater scope of role sharing. I undertook eight active interviews in the production of data
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for this project. These interviews engaged 12 participants across seven families.
Further, in order to ground interview data in the broader discursive context, I examined dominant discourses within media, politics, and public commentary and texts which, over time, have positioned GSD parents and families as unintelligible.
I will now move to discuss active interviews in relation to the study, followed by an introduction to parent participants. An additional data set, that of media, public, and political commentary and texts relating to the same-sex marriage debate, will then be introduced briefly. However, the detail of this data set will be unpacked more fully in Chapter 5.
Active interviews to collect narratives from parents. In this study, data was produced by engaging GSD parents in active interviews following the approach of Holstein and Gubrium (1995). The interviews probed the parents’ experiences of engaging in and with the primary schools their children attended. An active interview method acknowledges the co-constructed nature of interview data, rejecting the idea that interview conversations provide a conduit for transmitting facts or access to essential truths (Holstein & Gubrium, 1995). Instead, interviews are seen to be a form of discussion or “discourse between speakers”, recognizing that the joint construction of both the narrative and attached meanings occurs between two active participants: narrator and listener, participant and interviewer (Mishler, 1986, p. 36).
In more traditional forms of interview, the interviewer and respondent have pre-designated roles (Holstein & Gubrium, 1995). For instance, DeMarrais’ (2004) guide to undertaking qualitative interviews provides a table of separate roles for participant and researcher throughout various stages of the process. According to this table, the researcher is responsible for starting the interview with an initial question
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as per an interview guide. Following this initial question, the researcher asks further questions and the participant responds to these questions and elaborates in response to interviewer probes. While this process may still occur in an active interview, it is a much looser practice, where interpretive activities have a wider scope for both parties
(Holstein & Gubrium, 1995). Holstein and Gubrium claim that:
Challenged by the interviewer, pointed in promising directions, and at least
partially aware of the interpretive terrain at hand, the respondent becomes a kind
of researcher in his or her own right, consulting repertoires of experience and
orientations, linking fragments into patterns and offering "theoretically” coherent
descriptions, accounts, and explanations. (p. 29)
Thus, the respondent is actively developing narratives and contributing to the conversation, including by asking their own questions of the interviewer. This demonstrates a fluidity in how the roles are enacted.
The interviewer still plays an important role in the construction of narratives.
Holstein and Gubrium (1995) claim that the interviewer’s role is to invite and help narrative generation, offering framing devices and “suggesting the parameters of the sort of narrative being solicited” (p. 29). Whereas more traditional approaches to interviewing may suggest an interview guide with specified pre-set questions and prompts that are expected to be read exactly as worded (DeMarrais, 2004;
McCracken, 1988), the active interview is “loosely directed and constrained by the interviewer’s topic agenda, objectives and queries” (Holstein & Gubrium, 1995, p.
29). This means that opportunities open up for the sharing of stories, rather than being anchored tightly to the interviewer’s schedule (Holstein & Gubrium, 1995). In relation to the current study, this allowed the sharing of stories between interviewer and participant in the co-creation and production of interview data.
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The active interviewing approach also acknowledges that the way in which the narrator tells their story is unique to the immediate circumstances, with implications of and for the audience and the space and time in which the interview is conducted
(Holstein & Gubrium, 1995). A clear example of this arose in this study when I interviewed one couple, Mia and Sam. We were discussing school choice and early experiences in the school attended by their child, Ava. At this point, which was early in the interview, Mia said, “… but in terms of our experience as, at the time, a same- sex couple, shall we get onto that topic…”. This reflects that Mia was drawing on the immediate circumstances (that she was involved in an interview exploring the experiences of GSD parented families in primary schools) and aware of an audience in the construction of narratives. As a reflexive process this comment by Mia could also reflect my limited skills as an emerging researcher in the early stages of learning to interview and, guided by my reading about active interviews, my attempts not to control the interview space. It could be conceived that Mia may have been letting me know that the interview was taking too long to get to a perceived beginning in relation to the topic.
Holstein and Gubrium (1995) claim that “where the standardized approach attempts to strip the interview of all but the most neutral, impersonal stimuli, the consciously active interviewer intentionally, concertedly provokes responses by indicating – even suggesting – narrative positions, resources, orientations, and precedents for the respondent to engage in addressing the research questions under consideration.” (p. 39). Thus, the active interviewer is not neutral and dispassionate; they provoke narrative generation and provide frameworks for responses. In relation to the current study, this approach allowed greater scope for drawing on my insider understanding of current social and political contexts in order to produce richer
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narratives. Holstein and Gubrium also note, importantly, that the respondent isn’t told what to say, rather they are offered ways to make connections and conceptualise issues with the research topic in mind. This can be a constant challenge for researchers as they conduct interviews. While Holstein and Gubrium suggest an interview guide containing predetermined questions, they clarify that it forms more of an advisory agenda, where the depth to which the guide is used varies from interview to interview. They state that:
Cultivating the respondent’s narrative activity is a paramount goal. The
interviewer encourages this at every juncture. This means that the respondent’s
positional shifts, linkages and horizons of meaning take precedence over the tacit
linkages and horizons of the predesignated questions that the interviewer is
prepared to ask. A rule of thumb [sic] for using an interview guide is to let the
respondent’s response determine whether particular questions are necessary or
appropriate as leading frames of reference for the interview conversation. This
lends a rather improvisational, yet focused, quality to the interview – precisely
the image we have of the meaning-making process more generally. (Holstein &
Gubrium, 1995, pp. 76-77)
As such, active interviewing provides a platform for unfolding and more natural conversations where meaning making is of prime importance. The types of questions used play a big part in engaging participants. They should be short and clear, open- ended, be worded in such a way that they elicit detailed responses from participants and encourage participants to recall specific events or experiences in detail
(DeMarrais, 2004). Patton (2015) suggests six types of questions that can be used to elicit responses during interviews. These questions draw on: (i) experience/ behaviour; (ii) opinions/values; (iii) feelings; (iv) knowledge; (v) sensory
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information; (vi) background/demographic questions. The interviews for this study covered a diverse range of areas and topics.
I created an interview guide (see Appendix B) prior to undertaking interviews and included prompts such as “I’m interested in the experiences of LGBTQ+8 parents in primary schools. Have you got any stories or experiences that tell me about that?” Prompts are helpful in providing structure to an interview and encouraging participants to describe their thoughts, feelings and experiences in their own words (McCracken, 1988). Although the guide and prompts were crafted prior to interviews, active interviews constitute focused improvisational conversations and, therefore, allow for the flexibility of moving outside the bounds of predetermined prompts. This understanding was always important and at the front of my mind. The interview prompts I designed drew on the advice of Merriam and Tisdell (2016) who suggest more descriptive and detailed data is yielded when using such beginnings as
“Tell me about a time when…”, “Give me an example of…”; “What was it like for your when” (p. 121), and so on. Further, I created a yarning map (see Appendix C), which drew on the literature review and broader contextual aspects, in order to construct a map of possibilities regarding interview data. This interview tool is an
Indigenist research method and I was guided by the work of Bessarab9 (2016). I found that this assisted in exploring concepts more deeply as I was interviewing, by asking more questions throughout the interview. I did not allow this map to limit any exploring of other concepts that did arise, nor did I use it as a checklist to be ticked
8 Although the main terminology used within this thesis is GSD, I used LGBTQ+ within the interview as it is a more familiar term within the queer and broader community. 9 I learned how to create and use yarning maps at a workshop held by Bessarab in 2016 at the Australian Association for Research in Education Theory Workshop held in Western Australia. I have been unable to locate any work published by Bessarab explaining the mapping process used, however further information about yarning as a methodology can be found in Bessarab and Ng'andu (2010).
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off. Rather it provided a tool to help me listen and drill down into particular concepts that related to my reading in the field prior to beginning data collection.
During interviews, participants selected, organised, connected, and evaluated events, with insights into how this might be meaningful for the specific listener – me as interviewer. As the interview was taking place, I was interpreting the narratives.
As I talked with participants, these interpretations led to further questions and discussion. During interviews with couples, participants also analysed what was being said within trialogues (three-way conversations), creating some unique aspects to the interviews within this project. For instance, when Claire shared her extensive volunteer work at the school, Raeven paused and asked Claire, “Do you think there’s an element of because you’re in a same-sex relationship that we need to be kind of super-parents?” These moments of in-interview interpretation, analysis, and further questions created rich co-constructed data for the project.
Participants. The sample sought for the study were GSD parents and caregivers who had a child or children currently or recently enrolled in a state or private primary school in
Queensland. The location of Queensland was chosen as there has been very little research undertaken in relation to gender and sexual diversity and schooling in the state, and so it provided an interesting social context. However, the decision to locate this study in Queensland was also founded in the State’s conservative history relating to GSD rights.
When Flood and Hamilton (2008) ‘mapped’ homophobia in Australia using survey data from a sample of almost 25,000 Australians, they found that Queensland was the second-most homophobic state in Australia, with almost 40% of
Queenslanders surveyed viewing homosexuality as ‘immoral’. While some time has
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passed since results of this survey were released, there are other indicators of
Queensland conservatism with regard to GSD rights and issues. As an example,
Queensland was the second-last Australian state/territory to decriminalise male-to- male sexual activity, in 1990 (Smaal & Moore, 2008). This change happened a lengthy 18 years after South Australia decriminalised the same (Bull, Pinto, &
Wilson, 1991). More recently in Queensland, state legislation was changed to allow same-sex civil unions in 2011, however this was repealed when a conservative government came into power shortly afterwards (to be restored again in 2015 following another change in government) (Alexander, 2015). The same conservative government who repealed civil union laws for same-sex couples in Queensland also proposed, at the time, criminalising the use of surrogacy as a reproductive technology by gay and lesbian persons (Smail, 2012). Until 2017, legislation in
Queensland prevented same-sex couples from adopting, although they were allowed to foster (Queensland Government, n.d.). Until 2016, the age of consent for anal sex was 18 years as compared to 16 years for sexual acts such as penile and vaginal sex.
Queensland was the last of all states in Australia to remove sex markers from driver’s licences, with this occurring in 2016, a move required due to 2013
Amendments to the Commonwealth Sex Discrimination Act (Queensland
Government, Department of Transport and Main Roads, 2019). Presently,
Queensland is one of the few states which still requires a person to have sex affirmation surgery10 in order to change sex on one’s birth certificate. Further,
Queensland is one of two states (with Western Australia) that does not recognise non-binary sex markers on a birth certificate, still providing only the options of male
10 The Queensland Government Births, Deaths and Marriages Registration Regulation 2015 (2015) uses the term “sexual reassignment surgery” (para. 1), however, the more appropriate term is ‘sex affirmation surgery’
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and female. These examples demonstrate that politically, Queensland has been slow to move on issues related to recognition of gender and sexual diversity and granting rights accordingly. As such, Queensland was seen to provide a unique context for the study reported here.
In recruiting participants, as a member of the queer community I initially used my personal networks in order to disseminate information about the study via email
(See Appendix D). People within these networks passed on information to people in their personal networks as well. I also shared information about my study through the
Rainbow Families Queensland Facebook Page. I was also approached unexpectedly about my study by one participant who was interested in becoming involved after I shared the focus of my study in a group setting related to my studies.
The eventual sample for the study consisted of 12 GSD parents and caregivers who, at the time of the study, had a child or children currently or recently enrolled in primary school in Queensland. The 12 participants represented seven families across eight interviews ranging from 50 minutes to 3 hours. Four interviews were undertaken with couples, two with just one parent, and one couple was interviewed separately in two separate interviews. Interviewees were provided a choice in location of interview. Five interviews were undertaken in participants’ homes and three were undertaken in alternate meeting spaces. A short description of participants, drawn from interview data, is provided below11. These descriptions were developed from interview data and were forwarded to participants for checking.
Participants were provided with an opportunity to request changes or additions to the descriptions. Six of the seven families took the opportunity to provide feedback.
11 Participant, suburb and school names are all pseudonyms.
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Claire and Raeven
Claire and Raeven are the parents of two children, Reef and Alex, who were in
Grades One and Three at the time of the interview. The children attended Sunshine
State School, a small school with a “nice feel”, chosen by Claire and Raeven because it was not a “sausage factory” that pressured children academically and through
NAPLAN. Raeven worked full-time and Claire was a stay-at-home mum and very involved in the school context volunteering in multiple capacities. Claire and Raeven described the school community as diverse, with a parent body that included
“blended families”, “same-sex couples”, “singles” and families of diverse religious and ethnic backgrounds, including refugee families. The couple enjoyed being a part of an active parent group within the school. Claire and Raeven were interviewed together at their home.
Sam and Mia
Sam and Mia brought experiences of both same-sex and gender-diverse parenting to their interview. When the couple first became involved in a relationship,
Ava had not yet started school. Mia and Sam began their school parenting journey as same-sex parents. They believed they were the only same-sex parents in the school at the time. When Ava was in Grade Two, Sam transitioned gender to male. At the time of the interview, Ava was in Grade Three. She attended Riverville State School, a government school in a suburb that was described in the interview as “very straight, upper middle class, conservative” and “heteronormative”. Mia reported choosing the school because it was close to their home and because it was an Independent Public
School12, which she understood to mean that the school would not be constrained by
12 The Queensland Government allows certain state schools to become Independent Public Schools (IPS) through a rigorous application process. While there is still a requirement for IPS to engage with
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government directives, such as teaching using the C2C13. Sam and Mia were interviewed together at their home.
Angie and Willow
Angie and Willow were same-sex parents to two children, Lucas and James. At the time of the interview, Lucas was attending Prep at Skywood State School and
James attended a prior-to-school setting. Although Skywood State School was located in a high socio-economic area, Angie and Willow shared that there were several private schools in the area which were well attended and, as such, the school’s population reflected a diverse range of families. These included families of diverse family structures including single parented families and same-sex parented families, as well as families of diverse religious, ethnic, and socio-economic backgrounds. The couple reported that they looked at quite a few schools in the lead- up to Lucas starting school and ultimately chose Skywood as it was close to their home. They also appreciated that the school advertised itself as being inclusive, offered various clubs, and supported play-based methodologies – although they were less sure that this had been realised in the reality of their experience. Angie and
Willow were interviewed together in a meeting space requested by the couple.
the same system-wide priorities that state schools are expected to abide by, IPS have greater autonomy. There is an expectation that IPS engage with local community in making decisions. For more information, see https://education.qld.gov.au/schools-and-educators/Documents/ips-policy- framework.pdf 13 C2C refers to Curriculum to Classroom. The C2C comprises of curriculum planning materials created for Queensland State Schools by the Queensland Department of Education, in response to the introduction of the Australian Curriculum (beginning in 2010). The resources are organised at a whole-school level as well as at classroom level, including for single-year levels and multi-year levels. For more information, see https://education.qld.gov.au/curriculum/stages-of-schooling/C2C
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Jade and Averie
Jade and Averie were parents to two children, Madison and Kaylee. At the time of the interview, Madison was in Grade Three at Breezeville State School, a government school in a high socio-economic area, and Kaylee attended a prior-to- school setting in the same suburb. Jade and Averie moved to Australia from an international location when Madison was due to begin Grade One. While the couple were married at the time of the interview their marriage was not legally recognised in
Australia. When they moved to Australia they chose to live in Breezeville. In choosing the local state school for Madison, they appreciated that its documentation appeared to show that the school valued “critical and creative thinking” and presented as “diverse and inclusive”. However, they were less sure that this had been realised in the reality of their experience. Jade and Averie were interviewed separately. Jade was interviewed in the family home and Averie was interviewed in an alternate meeting space.
Timothy
Timothy was a parent to three children and identified as both gender and sexuality diverse. He was birth parent to Charlotte, Henry, and Jefferson, and co- parented the children with ex-husband, Robert. Timothy transitioned gender from female to male when Charlotte and Henry were in primary school. The children shifted from their first school prior to Timothy’s transition, as he held concerns about acceptance of diversity in their previous school. The new primary school, Daisyvale
State School, was located in a high socio-economic area. Timothy reported that transitioning within the school space was positive on an individual parent/family level, however systemically he felt there was a lack of recognition of gender and sexual diversity. Timothy’s interview was undertaken in his home.
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Bella
I interviewed Bella on her own. She lived with her partner, Natalie, and their daughter, Harper. Harper attended Autumnwood State School, a government school in a high socio-economic area, and she was in Grade 2 at the time of the interview.
Bella shared that they had considered several schools in the area prior to settling on
Autumnwood and were drawn to this school because it was small, set in bushland, and appeared to be focused on ‘green’ aspects (such as gardening) in children’s everyday school lives. Bella reported that the school, however, ended up being quite focused on academic outcomes. Harper had previously attended a small community school in another state, in an area with a high population of lesbian parented families.
Bella reported that, at Autumnwood, they were the only visible same-sex parented family in the school. Bella’s interview was undertaken in the family home.
Emily and Alexa
Emily and Alexa were a same-sex couple who, at the time of the interview, had been in a relationship for almost three years. Emily shared custody of teenagers,
Elijah and Finn, with their father, Trevor. Elijah and Finn lived across both homes.
During their primary school years, the children attended a high socio-economic private ecumenical school. Emily reported that although the school was founded on
Christian beliefs, “families from all over the world and all different religious practices” attended the school and it was “well known for its academic achievement”. The couple shared that the school was very conservative and this meant their same-sex family structure, and progressive understandings of gender and sexual diversity, were not reflected within school messaging or the broader parent community. This school was not Emily or Alexa’s preferred choice and when the youngest child, Elijah, reached high school age, the children shifted to a different
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school. This state-run inner-city school was much more diverse and represented a broader range of views and families with which both Emily and Alexa felt more comfortable. Emily and Alexa were interviewed in their home14.
Political, media and public commentary and texts. The research project was undertaken at a time that same-sex marriage was a key focus both politically and in the media, with the announcement of a national public vote on marriage in the midst of interviewing for the study. Debates about same-sex marriage have created a space over the past two decades in which extensive commentary has been produced within politics, media and the public about same-sex parenting and gender and sexual diversity. The examination of such commentary is useful as it provides access to discourses circulating in society about GSD persons, parents and families. Given that schooling does not occur in a social vacuum, these circulating discourses have the potential to create constraints for GSD parents and families as they navigate educational contexts.
In order to situate interview data within the broader discursive context, I engaged in a critical analysis of context and background by examining political, media and public commentary and texts occurring at three points in the same-sex marriage debate over the last two decades. I engaged with range of data produced between 2004 and 2017 in this analysis. First, I examined the production of the family by the state. I drew on a speech given in Federal Parliament by Attorney
General Phillip Ruddock in 2004 when the Marriage Act was changed to allow marriage only between one man and one woman. To support this analysis, I also engaged with Queensland and Federal legislation over time to consider the governing
14 The project invited participants whose children were attending, or had recently attended primary school. At the time of the interview, Elijah was in the first year of high school. However, the couple were able to reflect on their experiences of navigating the primary school space.
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of family and (re)production of familial norms by the state. I then examined submissions to a 2012 Senate Inquiry seeking public opinion on whether to allow same-sex couples to marry. Specifically, I focused on submissions opposing same- sex marriage on the basis of family as this provides insight into ways in which diverse families can be positioned as unintelligible and inferior to nuclear families.
This data set was extremely useful for unpacking normative constructions of family.
It is important to examine these discourses as they are tied up with recognition and continue to circulate today. These discourses have the potential to impact on GSD parents and families as they navigate schooling contexts. Last, I examined campaign materials issued by Coalition for Marriage in the leadup to the 2017 same-sex marriage postal survey as well as websites, traditional and social media, and Hansard transcripts from this period in order to examine shifts in circulating discourses.
Additional details regarding the corpus of data drawn on to consider discursive constructions of family are outlined in Chapter 5 during reporting.
Narrative Analysis
I now shift my focus to discuss various forms of narrative analysis followed by an explanation of my choice of dialogic/performance analysis as the method of analysis of interview data for the current research project.
Narrative analysis denotes a group of techniques engaged to interpret commentary and texts that share a storied form (Riessman, 2008). Approaches to narrative analysis are conceptually diverse and represent a broad range of perspectives (Riessman, 2002). This family of methods include approaches that are utilised in other qualitative methodologies, however, the ways in which they are employed differ (Clandinin, 2013). Narrative analysis is highly interpretive. The method of analysis greatly influences approaches to transcription, which is also
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interpretive (Riessman, 2002). In terms of rigor, it is essential that all data is systematically reviewed to ensure data is not selected on the basis of the researcher’s argument but representative of data collected (Barkhuizen et al., 2014). Caine et al.
(2013) warn, however that it is essential not to treat participants’ stories as
“reductionist artefacts”. They credit narratives as occurring in spaces between people, arguing these stories offer insights and provide opportunities to connect with and learn from others, as ways for both participants and researchers to foster development of identity.
Approaches to narrative analysis. The literature describes multiple approaches to analysis within narrative inquiry. For instance, discourse analysis, critical discourse analysis and conversational analysis are forms of analysis employed in narrative inquiry across a wide range of disciplines (see for example Fairclough, 2013; Johnstone, 2016; Potter,
1997; van Dijk, 2008). Polkinghorne (1995) draws on Jerome Bruner to suggest two approaches to narrative analysis, paradigmatic and narrative. Paradigmatic approaches generate information about concepts through analysis of storied data and identifying categories or themes. The narrative type of analysis produces “knowledge of particular situations” and involves the creation of storied accounts from
“descriptions of events, happenings, and actions” (Polkinghorne, 1995, p. 21).
Clandinin and Connelly’s (2000) approach to narrative analysis appears to align with
Polkinghorne (1995), also suggesting two approaches to narrative analysis. The first, similar to Polkinghorne’s (1995) narrative type of analysis, relates to organising the data in order to create a storyline that unifies the information collected. The second involves engaging in analysis by considering common metaphors, plots, themes, and so on, in order to identify general concepts or themes that appear in the data,
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reflecting similar approaches to Polkinghorne’s paradigmatic approach. Thematic analysis of the data from a narrative perspective differs from a Grounded Theory approach, as thematic analysis “keeps a story ‘intact’ by theorising from the case rather than from component themes (categories) across cases” (Riessman, 2008, p.
53).
Given the wide range of approaches to narrative analysis outlined, Riessman
(2008) worked to provide four broad techniques common in the narrative field. The common categories of narrative analysis she provides are: (i) thematic analysis; (ii) structural narrative analysis; (iv) visual narrative analysis, and; (iv) dialogic/ performance narrative analysis. This latter approach, dialogic/performance narrative analysis, is employed within this research project. As dialogic/performance narrative analysis selectively draws on aspects of both thematic and structural narrative analysis (in addition to further elements), I discuss thematic and structural narrative analysis to provide a grounding of Riessman’s conceptualisations below. As visual analysis is not relevant to a project employing an interview method, I will not expand on this form of narrative analysis. Following this, I discuss the approach to analysis for this study, that of dialogic/performance analysis.
Thematic narrative analysis. Thematic narrative analysis is the most common form of analysis employed in narrative inquiry and the most straightforward (Riessman, 2008). In all types of thematic analysis, narrative or otherwise, data is “interpreted in light of thematics developed by the investigator (influenced by prior and emergent theory, the concrete purpose of an investigation, the data themselves, political commitments, and other factors)” (Riessman, 2008, p. 54). Thus, inductive or deductive modes are employed in order to interpret data in reference to themes. In this approach, researchers turn
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their attention primarily to what is said, rather than how something is said, the purpose, or the audience. This means that this form of analysis signifies a focus on content. Thematic narrative analysis differs from traditional category-centred approaches to thematic analysis, such as grounded theory, as there is a central focus on keeping participant “stories” intact and contextual, preserving the detail within long sequences. I noted earlier in the chapter that such lengthy bounded excerpts of direct speech are problematic from a poststructural narrative perspective, as the researcher’s role in co-constructing data remains hidden in these circumstances.
In thematic narrative analysis, participant narratives are handled as discrete units, rather than procuring and editing snippets of text out of context as occurs within many other forms of qualitative thematic approaches to data analysis, such as grounded theory (Riessman, 2008). Furthermore, the focus in grounded theory relates to theorising about populations, rather than representing a case-centred approach.
This is an important consideration given the theoretical underpinnings of this study.
In other words, from a queer theoretical perspective, homogenous views of identity groups fail to consider intersections of identity.
Thematic narrative analysis provides opportunities to consider themes within data in ways that consider both individual and broader political contexts, thereby retaining greater meaning. An analytical framework which allows both individual experiences and wider political contexts to be highlighted is certainly in alignment with the theoretical framework underpinning this study. A limitation of thematic narrative analysis is that “readers must assume… that everyone in a thematic cluster means the same thing by what they say…, obscuring particularities of meaning in- context.” (Riessman, 2008, p. 76). In other words, as researchers interpret and select bounded segments of text to represent particular themes, some individual meaning is
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lost. Lastly, while researchers using thematic narrative analysis may occasionally attend to word choices by participants, Riessman (2008) states that this is not a focus of this form of analysis. This is the work of structural narrative analysis and will now be discussed.
Structural narrative analysis. Structural narrative analysis places its focus not just on content, but also on how speakers compose their narratives to realise particular aims (Riessman, 2008).
This approach to analysis is grounded in linguistics and can be employed as a sole analytical approach or combined with other methods, including thematic narrative analysis. Many practitioners using structural narrative analysis draw on Labov and
Waletzky’s (1967) social linguistic techniques of transcribing, coding and analyses.
Labov and Waletzky’s approach to narrative analysis involves categorising clauses into six elements: (i) abstract; (ii) orientation; (iii) complicating action; (iv) evaluation; (v) result; (vi) coda (return to present moment) in order to understand structural elements of narratives. Structural approaches “provide tools for investigators who want to interrogate how participants use speech to construct themselves and their histories” because there is a focus on language (Riessman,
2008, p. 103). In critiquing structural approaches to data analysis, Riessman (2008) states that while structural narrative analysis takes into account the contextual factors of data collection, such as researcher voice, it can fail to give attention to power relations, institutional constraints and cultural discourses.
Dialogic/performance analysis. This project employed a dialogic/performance approach to narrative analysis.
Riessman (2008) states that “dialogic/performance analysis is not equivalent to thematic and structural, but rather a broad and varied interpretive approach to oral
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narrative that makes selective use of elements of the other two methods and adds other dimensions” (Riessman, 2008, p. 105). Thus, dialogic/performance narrative analysis draws together aspects of both structural and thematic approaches to narrative, as well as considering performative aspects of data and audience.
As a form of narrative analysis, this approach does not view personal stories as emerging from a deep, innermost part of the self. Rather narratives are viewed as being both received and composed in multiple contexts, including institutional, historical, and discursive (Riessman, 2008). This means that this approach to analysis is closely aligned with feminist poststructuralist and queer perspectives. I felt uncomfortable with the lack of acknowledgement of the researcher’s role in co- creating and interpreting stories within a thematic analysis approach, given that narratives appeared to hang independently in the air as if they were spontaneous soliloquies unaffected by input. The dialogic/performance method of analysis provides a space in which both local (researcher input, co-construction of interview data, interpretation, choices about included data) and societal (institutional constraints, cultural discourses, power relations, politics) contexts are acknowledged and interrogated (Riessman, 2008). This allows a more critical approach reflective of the processes which influence narratives as well as understandings about identity, society, and culture. It also provides opportunities to understand how ‘realities’ are constructed within contexts.
The dialogic/performance approach to narrative analysis also considers audience, something that Silverman (2015) considers to be important. Silverman speaks of detoxification, where participants adjust their speech, as an afterthought, to reduce the effect of something they have just said that could be interpreted negatively, thereby buffering the negative effect by projecting a positive image of
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themselves to the audience. Riessman (2008) notes the influence of audience when she claims “identities are situated and accomplished with audience in mind”, that
“one can’t be a ‘self’ by oneself; rather, identities are constructed in “shows” that persuade” (Riessman, 2008, p. 106). Thus, dialogic/performance narrative analysis allows reflection upon performance of identity in relation to audience. Without utilisation of the dialogic/performance approach to narrative data analysis, and therefore singularly coming from a thematic narrative analysis approach, the data would be constructed as free-flowing, uninterrupted speech acts independently spoken by an individual. This would ignore that interviews represent a “discourse between speakers” (Mishler, 1986, p. 7) and the interpretive nature of analysis.
Data analysis in the study: Parent experiences and contexts. The aim of this study was to explore the reported experiences of GSD parents in relation to navigating the primary schools their children attend. To investigate these experiences, I drew on two types of data. Much of the analysis examined data collected from participant narratives in semi-structured interviews. An additional data set, a corpus of political, media, and public commentary and texts, was analysed to provide an important grounding for participant narratives, as it offers a critical analysis of context and background through the examination of circulating discourses of family. Below, I discuss in detail a six-step process I took to analyse interview data, using a dialogic/performance narrative analysis approach. I then discuss the analysis of the second data set. As there are several aspects of this additional corpus of data, further details relating to this analysis are expanded upon in Chapter 5, where I report the analysis of this data set.
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Dialogic/performance narrative analysis of interview data I used a dialogic/performance approach to narrative analysis to analyse the narratives constructed by GSD parents when they were asked to talk about their experiences of engaging with primary schools. The dialogic/performance approach drew on aspects of both thematic and structural narrative analysis and, additionally, considered performative aspects of interview data and audience (Riessman, 2008). I used a six-step process in working with the data produced in this research study.
These steps included:
Step 1: Reflective thinking and writing about the data
Following each interview, I wrote a reflection about the concepts that stood out to me. These reflections formed part of my early thinking and analysis as an iterative process during the project. Further, the reflections assisted me to see some of the patterns that arose during interviews and, at times, this influenced future interviews as well. For instance, during the early interviews, I noticed that each participant brought up Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. While in the first interview, it was a simple comment and I did not drill down on this, when I noticed it arising again in the second interview, I was ready to prompt discussion that explored this concept in depth when future participants raised it. These reflections were recorded in a specific post-interview reflections document.
Step 2: Transcription and reflections
Following the interview process, I transcribed each audio-recorded interview at slow speed, in three listens for each recording, filling in missing gaps during each iteration. This was to improve the accuracy of the transcript. Bucholtz (2000) describes transcription as a representational process. She suggests that transcription practices occur on a continuum, with naturalised transcription at one end and
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denaturalised transcription at the other. Oliver, Serovich, and Mason (2005) explain that “between these two methods are endless variations using elements of each” (p.
1274), suggesting there are an infinite number of ways to transcribe interviews between these two points on the continuum. Davidson (2009) explains the differences between naturalised and denaturalised transcription forms:
Naturalised transcription occurs when written features of discourse have primacy
over the oral, so written down talk exhibits many features of written language that
do not actually occur in spoken talk. For example, commas, full stops (periods),
and paragraphing are incorporated. Bucholtz referred to naturalized transcription
practices as literacized. Denaturalized transcription preserves the features of oral
language such as “ums” and “ers” (p. 38-39)
In other words, naturalised transcription privileges written conventions of language, including formal language and punctuation, over characteristics of oral speech.
Denaturalised transcription is verbatim, reflects oral aspects of speech and does not use written language conventions of punctuation as these do not occur in spoken dialogue.
My approach draws on a denaturalized approach so that it retains links to the oral textual form. The transcript was verbatim with no punctuation as the transcript is a representation of speech and there is no punctuation in speech. I recorded movement, action or behaviour features, such as laughter, sighs, and banging on the table to make a point, for instance, in italics with brackets – for instance (deep sigh);
(laughs), (bangs table). Where there was a particular tone, I noted this in italics with brackets: (tone). For significant pauses in speech, I recorded this as (P)15. Each turn
15 Transcription Notation: voice - talk voice - best guess at talk (highlighted in yellow)
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of speech was entered in a new line in the transcript table, and each turn was numbered. For instance, Turn 145 was labelled T145. Within three-person interviews
(two participants and myself – as researcher), there were many moments of talking at the same time and this created some challenges with regard to hearing and transcribing.
The transcription process also formed part of early analysis. As I transcribed, I took note of my thoughts and any links to literature, narratives within the interview, other participant narratives and my own experiences and understandings in a researcher diary. This allowed several layers of analysis to occur during each listening session. Further, patterns, as well as theoretical constructs, evident within the data were used to construct categories during the transcription phase. These initial categories were used in reference to narrative content later in narrative tables.
A list of categories can be found in Appendix E.
Step 3: Creating a narrative table
Following the transcription phase, I used a combination of audio-recordings and transcriptions, as well as initial reflections to create a narrative table for each interview (see Figure 4.1 for an example of what these tables looked like16), overviewing the structure and content of the narratives and assigning categories constructed during the transcription process. The narrative tables were printed and bound, and used regularly throughout several steps of analysis, including reporting.
They also provided a tool for overviewing narratives when thinking through the
(voice) - talk takes on a particular tone (behaviour) - movement, action or behaviour (P) - significant pauses in speech
16 The headings within narrative tables were (i) Participant Number; (ii) Story Number; (iii) Timeframe; (iv) Narrative Name; (v) Short Explanation of Narrative; (vi) Narrative Details; (vii) Categories; (viii) Thoughts/insights/ possible links to other stories/participants
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writing up of data. Just as spoken narratives are a representation of events, and transcripts are a representation of the interviews and the talk that has occurred between researcher and researched, these narrative tables provide a representation of the narratives. It is important to note that these narrative tables represent my interpretation of shared narratives as researcher. Within these tables, I bounded each story, marking beginning and end points, as well as links between shared narratives. I am aware that in each of these decisions I was interpreting the data.
Figure 4.1 Excerpt of narrative table entry: The Crossing the Road Story.
Step 4: Thematic coding
The coding phase of analysis was conducted manually and followed the following sequence.
Coding individual interviews
I began by coding the ways in which people and environments were produced within the narratives in each interview. To do this, I coded each person’s account of: (i)
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themselves; (ii) their partner where relevant; (iii) accounts of “we/us” where relevant; (iv) accounts of their children; (v) accounts of the school community, and;
(vi) accounts of the school - using a different colour for each (Figure 4.2). This approach drew on the work of Brown and Gilligan (1991) which considers researchers listening to voice with regard to relationality and societal/cultural contexts. This approach seemed relevant to taking a dialogic/performance approach to analysis and helped me to understand the ways in which participants positioned themselves and others within the narratives. It was particularly useful in interviews with couples, as it helped me to understand the ways individual participants talked about topics, people and contexts that arose in different narratives. This process also required a very close pass of the data which assisted me to see the production of narratives differently to how I had understood these in my initial interpretations. This was because, rather than looking at each narrative as a bounded segment, at this point in the process I was looking at what was said about topics, people and contexts across the full interview. I wrote up a detailed analysis for one couple based on the six coding categories just discussed above (see Figure 4.3 for an image of an excerpt of analysis of two of these categories in relation to one couple). After realising that the time taken was disproportionate to the benefit, I changed course.
Figure 4.2 Category coding within individual interviews.
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Figure 4.3 Each of the above pages are excerpts from early written analyses of coded categories in Claire and Raeven’s interview transcript. The page on the left relates to the way Claire is positioned by herself and her partner within the interview. The page on the right relates to Raeven’s accounts of school community.
I modified my approach by creating mindmaps relating to each of the above aspects for the remaining participants, considering how people and places were produced (Figure 4.4) within interviews.
Figure 4.4 Example of a mindmap analysis using coding within individual interviews – this map relates to accounts of the school and schooling community.
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Coding across all interviews
Following the coding of individual interview transcripts, I coded using some of the categories that were constructed as a part of data analysis during the creation of narrative tables, as well as some additional categories which had become apparent during early analysis (see Table 4.1 for the final codes used in this phase). These categories reflected important aspects of the co-constructed narratives, as well as theory, discourses, literature, and the broader social context.
Table 4.1 Categories for coding across all interviews
Category Colour Description Visibility/ Dark blue Relating to visibility, invisibility and invisibility/ hypervisibility hypervisibility Heteronormativity/ Grey Relating to heteronormativity and heterosexism heterosexism Being out Purple Participants talking about being out/coming out Queering/ Green Destabilising, resisting, questioning, queer as a verb interrogating, disrupting, opposing, disordering, denaturalising, interrupting
Coding at this point occurred across the full suite of interviews, rather than coding and analysis within each interview separately. This allowed me to consider how, for instance, heteronormative concepts, or concepts of queering, appeared across all interview data. Again, this was a manual process where I underlined data that reflected particular categories with particular colours. I then wrote up and analysed some of the narratives relating to these categories, working from my theoretical lens and approach to analysis in the process. (See Figure 4.5 for example of writing up heteronormativity’ category – write up was across all interviews and this figure provides a small excerpt.)
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Figure 4.5 Using coding for written analysis of categories across all interviews. This is a segment of early analysis related to the category of heteronormativity.
Step 5: Structural narrative analysis
Here, I shifted gear and moved to structural narrative analysis, following
Riessman’s (2008) advice to include both processes. Specifically, I used Labov and
Waletzky’s (1967) model of narrative, which splits narratives into the following stages:
a. abstract;
b. orientation;
c. complication;
d. evaluation;
e. resolution, and;
f. coda.
These are not necessarily linear, discrete stages, nor do all narratives include all stages.
I used this model initially to analyse several of Claire and Raeven’s narratives (see
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Figure 4.6 for extract of an example). I found the abstract, coda and evaluation stages useful in my analysis as they relate to the production of meaning of a story. After analysing the structure of several narratives in this detail, I was able to recognise these aspects in other narratives more easily and proceeded to using a more short-cut process. As an example of how this type of analysis was put to work in the thesis, I analysed the structure of Jade’s narratives in order to examine labour in navigating invisibility and hypervisibility, by coding evaluative comments specifically and this analysis is reported in Chapter 7. This was a useful process, as evaluative comments can be embedded throughout a story and provide clues as to the emotional significance of the narrative for the teller.
Figure 4.6 Extract from structural narrative analysis of narrative about perceptions of gendered parent roles, drawing on Labov and Waletzky’s (1967) model of narrative analysis.
Step 6: Reporting
Following each of these steps of analyses, I then planned and wrote my data chapters. In the writing and reflection process, interpretation and analysis of data continued through a queer theoretical lens, and the shape of chapters shifted and refined as part of the writing process. I worked in a diverse range of ways during this period.
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At several stages throughout planning and writing of data chapters, I completed mindmaps drawing on narratives across the full suite of data. Using these mindmaps,
I thought through concepts and patterns evident within and across the data (see
Figure 4.7 for example).
Figure 4.7 An early mindmap - thinking through concepts and patterns across the data.
To think through patterns across the data, I also printed and cut up all narratives in the full suite of narrative tables. I then physically sorted these, in multiple ways, using a large boardroom table (see Figure 4.8 for image of one sort).
Figure 4.8 Physical sorting of narratives using cut up versions of all segments of narrative tables in order to think through patterns across the data
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To make some decisions about how to move forward with my data chapters, I wrote a chapter-by-chapter summary of concepts already covered across the first four chapters of my thesis and then created a plan for my data chapters (see Figure 4.9 for image). This working document was created early in the writing process and, at this particular stage, I was still thinking at a narrative level and wanting to include each one in my write up, rather than thinking across the data in terms of findings. As I continued to analyse, write and reflect, this plan shifted and changed significantly.
Figure 4.9 Early planning of data chapters. The first four boxes (segments headed with circled numbers - 1, 2, 3, 4) summarised the first four chapters of my thesis. The planned data chapters were as follows: Chapter 5 – Media; Chapter 6 – Schools and Families; Chapter 7 – School-Parent relationships; Chapter 8 – Queering or Queer as a Verb; Chapter 9 – Conclusions and Implications. This plan changed significantly throughout the writing process
As I planned and wrote, and the focus of each data chapter shifted and was refined, I drew and ‘wrote out’ my ideas and thinking in a planning and reflection journal (See Figure 4.10 for sample double page). This planning and reflection journal provided a place for thinking through ideas and concepts, and how these might be stepped out within writing.
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Figure 4.10 Pages from my planning journal. This double-page reflects some of my later thinking and planning for Chapter 6 using binaries to think through the data.
While the planning and reflection journal was useful for much of the journey, sometimes I needed a larger working space to revisit data and make connections.
This was particularly true of Chapter 7, which involved examining several case studies in relation to the visibility continuum. On these occasions, I made use of large whiteboards to revisit and rework data (see Figures 4.11 and 4.12 for images of some of this work.)
Figure 4.11 Using large whiteboards to revisit data and rework Chapter 7. At this point, much of the chapter was written but wasn’t working well, and needed an extensive revisit. In this case, I worked across two boards (just one is shown in this image), noting all data and concepts related to the visibility continuum. In seeing the data, with connections and notes, all in one space, I was able to make decisions about how to move forward with this chapter.
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Figure 4.12 Thinking through links within Chapter 7 narratives
Many iterative steps were taken in this approach to ensure a thorough analysis for this work. The multiple levels of analyses (see summary in Table 4.2) provided the foundation for examining and reporting on the experiences of GSD parents as they navigate the schools their children attend.
Table 4.2: Six step process I used to work with data produced in the research study
Step 1: Written reflections following each interview that Reflective thinking and highlighted concepts that stood out; Recorded in a post- writing about the data interview reflections document. Step 2: Transcriptions of audio-recorded interviews. Transcription and reflections During transcription, reflections, links to literature, and connections between narratives recorded in researcher diary. Step 3: Creation of narrative tables for each interview, Creating a narrative table overviewing the structure and content of the narratives and assigning categories constructed during transcription processes. Step 4: Data coding according to specific categories; Involved Thematic coding several passes of data. Step 5: Structural analysis of some narratives using Labov and Structural narrative analysis Waletzky’s (1967) model of narrative analysis. Step 6: Planning of data chapters and reporting on data. Reporting
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Analysis of political, public, and media commentary and texts. During Step 6 (Reporting) of the above process of analysis, it became apparent that it was important to nest the interview data in the broader sociality of the study. I engaged in a critical analysis of data at three points of the same-sex marriage debate
(2004, 2012, 2017), through examination of discourses about family and/or gender/sexuality. The approach to analysis is unpacked further in Chapter 5.
Reliability and Validity
While the origins of reliability and validity can be found in the commonly positivist paradigm of quantitative research, these concepts are relevant to qualitative research (Elliott, 2005). Reliability denotes the capacity for research to be replicated, however, given the non-static nature of human behaviour it is a problematic concept in the social sciences (Merriam, 2009). Silverman (2006) suggests processes can be examined for reliability given that replicability of data in qualitative research can be problematic. Another suggestion by Silverman is that the same data be analysed by multiple researchers to compare analyses and ensure reliability. I undertook numerous discussions with my supervisors throughout the process regarding planning, transcription, analysis and reporting, and in this way was transparent and reflective about the methodological and analytic decisions being made.
Validity refers to accurate representation of social phenomena under analysis and there is no common approach to ensuring validity across the diverse scope of the qualitative research field (Riessman, 2008; Silverman, 2006). Referring to projects employing narrative inquiry, Riessman (2008) contends that “two levels of validity are important – the story told by a research participant and the validity of the analysis” (p. 184). This suggests that validity relates to participants, but also to the way in which researchers approach analysis. Understanding the meaning of talk may
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be considered more relevant to validity than verifying “facts” for some narrative researchers (Riessman, 2008). Thus, some authors believe that using a narrative approach to analysis improves validity as it provides space for respondents to refer to their own conceptual framework, employ their own vocabulary and concretely describe their life experiences (Elliott, 2005). Although Silverman (2006) notes triangulation of data can be viewed as important to validity, this is not relevant to this study as triangulation supposes a fixed point when, in fact, there are diverse multidimensional ways of approaching the world (Merriam, 2009). Some approaches to validity relevant to this study were to refute early assumptions about data and ensuring all data was examined and analysed so that “comprehensive data treatment” was undertaken (Silverman, 2000). Noble and Smith (2015) suggest that “rich and thick verbatim descriptions of participants’ accounts to support findings” (p. 35) contribute to the trustworthiness of research. Within this project, I have not only used participants’ accounts where possible and, within long bounded segments of transcript, I have included my own part in the co-construction of data. Further, the study used established methods which is also important in ensuring validity.
Thus, the methodology utilised within this study provides a valid and reliable conceptual framework for examining the experiences of GSD parents in primary school settings.
Ethics
Ethical decisions arise throughout the entire research process, from
conceptualisation and design, data gathering and analysis, and report
(Edwards & Mauthner, 2012, p. 18)
Qualitative researchers need to be aware of the ethical implications of each stage of the research process. In the early moments of a research project, ethical
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decisions can relate to such issues as authorship and competence in methods
(Cooper, 2016). In terms of data gathering and analysis, ethics are associated with matters such as data management, competence in data analysis, and data integrity
(Cooper, 2016). Finally, with regard to reporting, ethics are concerned with areas such as plagiarism, publishing, peer review, and timely access of research outcomes to participants (Cooper, 2016).
The National Statement on Ethical Conduct in Human Research (Australian
Government, National Health and Medical Research Council, Australian Research
Council, 2015) states there are four guidelines to ethical human research: (i) research merit and integrity; (ii) justice; (iii) beneficence, and; (iv) respect. According to the document, research merit and integrity guides the researcher to undertake research that contributes, is justifiable, uses appropriate methods, and is grounded in respect.
Justice refers to research that is fair and socially just, that does not exploit or place an unfair burden on any particular groups and provides timely and unambiguous access of research outcomes to participants. The concept of beneficence is about benefits of research and the minimisation of risks to participants. Finally, respect, a value which underpins the guidelines, shows that research needs to be grounded in a respect for the intrinsic value of human beings. It is within this category that confidentiality, privacy, cultural sensitivities, and so on, belong.
It is evident then that ethics forms a part of every aspect of the research process. Some of the ethical considerations in my study related to appropriate data management, my insider/outsider positioning, and awareness of power relations in my role as researcher. Taking an ethical approach also involved providing information about queer counselling services and Lifeline in the event that interviews triggered difficult processes for participants, ensuring participants were aware that
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they could withdraw from the research process, and an awareness of the implications of using personal connections to recruit. Cultural awareness formed another part of ethics, as well as de-identifying data for confidentiality. Other ethical matters included decision making about access to data after the research was complete, given the sensitive nature of the topic, and providing participants with access to research outcomes in a timely manner.
Conclusion
This study aimed to explore the experiences, enablements and constraints reported by GSD parents in relation to engaging with their child/ren’s primary school/s. The study employed a poststructural approach to narrative inquiry, drawing on experience-centred narratives. As such, this study values and explores the lived experiences of participants. Poststructural narrative inquiry encourages researchers to avoid several pitfalls characteristic to conventional narrative research. Of interest is that each of these aspects, for instance, the importance of resisting the creation of stable meanings and unambiguous solutions in research, aligns with the key tenets of queer theory discussed in Chapter 3. The sample for the study consisted of 12 GSD parents across seven families, that had a child or children currently or recently enrolled in primary school in Queensland. Data was produced by engaging GSD parents in active interviews (Holstein and Gubrium, 1995). This method considers interviews to be a form of discourse between speakers, recognising the co- constructed nature of interview data. This perspective aligns with a queer theoretical approach. To analyse interview data, I drew on Riessman’s (2008) conception of dialogic/performance narrative analysis. This approach to narrative analysis is also closely aligned with a queer theoretical lens, as it recognises that subjectivation influences how narratives are both received and composed, and considers audience.
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Much of the analysis reported in this thesis (in Chapters 6 and 7) is a result of analysis of the interview data. In Chapter 5, I draw on an additional set of data, that being a corpus of political, media and public commentary and texts. The critical analysis of commentary and texts provides insight into discursive constructions of family which have the potential to impact on GSD parent experiences in schools, and so provides context through which to consider interview data.
Taken from this methodological standpoint, the questions that framed this study were:
1. What are the reported experiences of GSD parents in primary school settings in Queensland, given that schools can be spaces that reproduce and reinforce heteronormativity and cisnormativity?
2. What do GSD parents report to be the enablements and constraints of primary school education practices as they parent in GSD families?
3. What are the implications of these enablements and constraints for GSD parents and their families in primary schools?
GSD parents navigate a context where there has been much public debate about the validity of GSD identities and families, as well as inclusion of GSD concepts within educational contexts. This project was undertaken at a time when there were broader debates about whether to allow same-sex marriage within Australia. Limited research has previously been undertaken with regard to the experiences of GSD parents in primary schools. Given the ongoing political context, and that school- family relationships influence the success and outcomes children experience within school and beyond, this is an important area of research. In what follows I move to the analytic section of this thesis. The following three chapters will examine the broader circulating discourses about GSD families, the production of family in
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schooling contexts, and parent experiences of visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility in schools. These chapters represent three nested levels of analysis within the study, that is, those of broader society, schools, and families. The next chapter draws on media, public, and political commentary and texts in order to overview some of the broader circulating discourses impacting GSD parents. The chapter provides a contextual nest for the remaining data chapters in order to understand the broader sociality in which the study was undertaken.
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Chapter 5: GSD Families Through the Lens of the ‘Nuclear’:
Circulating Discourses of Unintelligibility
If we are not recognisable, if there are no norms of recognition by which we are
recognisable, then it is not possible to persist in one’s own being, and we are not
possible beings; we have been foreclosed from possibility.
– Butler, Undoing Gender (2004)
Subjects are constituted through exclusion, that is, through the creation of a
domain of deauthorised subjects, presubjects, figures of abjection, populations
erased from view. Once it is understood that subjects are formed through
exclusionary operations, it becomes politically necessary to trace the operations
of that construction and erasure.
– Butler, Feminist contentions: A philosophical exchange (1995)
In this, the first of the data chapters for this thesis, I explore the broader sociality of this study. Here, I provide a critical analysis of context and background by examining some of the normative discourses of family that have been produced within media, political, and public commentary in Australia. Specifically, I examine data at three points of the same-sex marriage ‘debate’ (2004, 2012, 2017) to examine the discursive construction of family in Australia within arguments opposing same- sex marriage. This data is useful as debates and discussions about same-sex marriage have produced much commentary about family, particularly about what is the
‘correct’ and ideal form of family for children’s wellbeing and outcomes. These normative discourses fail to recognise diversity; as Butler (1995b, 2004) notes, they constitute subjects through foreclosure and exclusion. Further, discourses continue
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to circulate and influence conceptions of family today. Given that schooling does not operate in a social vacuum, such an analysis provides an opportunity to unpack some of the normative discourses operating in society which may impact on recognition of
GSD parents and families as they navigate schools and schooling communities. As such, this data analysis provides important grounding for the next two data chapters which follow.
The analysis conducted in this chapter is informed, primarily, by Butler’s
(1995b, 2004, 2005) theoretical notions of recognition and intelligibility.
Recognition is influenced by dominant social norms which are imbued with power
(Butler, 2004) and set limits as to “what will be considered an intelligible formation of the subject within a given historical scheme of things” (Butler, 2004, pp. 26-27).
Intelligibility is an effect of recognition (Butler, 2004) and relates to being understood as a valid and legitimate social subject (Butler, 2005). Importantly, the category of the recognisably human operates through the exclusion of a broad array of minorities (Butler, 2004). By examining the normative discourses which underpin recognition, there is opportunity to better comprehend some of the exclusionary mechanisms of power by which GSD parents and families may be misrecognised, deauthorised, and made invisible.
So here, I draw on the concept of discourse as relating to signification, “not merely spoken words”, and “how discursive forms articulate objects and subjects in their intelligibility” (Butler, 1995b, p. 138). This position reflects an understanding that discourse does not only signify existing social practices and relations, which are grounded in history, society and culture. Rather, discourse is also productive, constituting notions of legible subjects, and is therefore involved in the operations of
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power (Butler, 1995b). Thus, discourse is implicated in the perception and construction of recognition and intelligibility.
While a broad range of competing discourses about GSD persons and families exists, I specifically focus in this chapter on discourses that constitute GSD persons and families as unintelligible, unrecognisable and, because of this, as less than human. I do not make this choice so as to position GSD individuals and families as victims. As Allen (2015) warns, the binary of ‘victim’ and ‘hero’ is constitutive and hides the lived realities of GSD persons. Instead, this decision is underpinned by
Butler’s (2004) conceptual understanding of recognition as something which is desired by all subjects, thus representing “a site of power by which the human is differentially produced” (p. 2). This differential production of subjects relates to the category of human, that is, who is recognised as worthy of rights and protection and who is not (Butler, 2004). Discourses that deny recognition chip away at one’s sense of being and belonging (Ahmed, 2016) and lead to an unviable life (Butler, 2004).
These discourses have the potential to create constraints for GSD parented families as they navigate schools. It is therefore important to understand how these discourses work to produce intelligibility in order to provide a foundation for the following chapters which draw on interview data.
This chapter comprises three sections which draw on data from three points in the same-sex marriage debate between 2004, when the Marriage Act was changed by the Federal Government to exclude same-sex couples, and 2017, when the same Act was changed to allow same-sex marriage. Opposition to same-sex marriage in
Australia has regularly drawn on ideologies about ‘correct’ and ideal families and, thus, related commentary provides rich data for considering ways in which ‘family’ is discursively constructed. Much of the commentary opposing same-sex marriage
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has focused on the appropriateness of same-sex parented families and discourses underpinning these arguments provide insight into normative constructions of family which can impact on both sexuality and gender diverse parents. Further, moral panics about the inclusion of concepts of gender diversity in education have recently entered into the fray of arguments against same-sex marriage, potentially impacting on experiences of gender diverse parents in their children’s schools.
The first section examines normative discourses of family reproduced and generated, by the state, when the Marriage Act was changed in 2004. This change in legislation occurred at the time to ensure marriage was allowed only between a man and woman, thereby excluding same-sex couples from marrying. I draw on the speech given by Attorney General Phillip Ruddock in Federal Parliament when this
Bill was introduced, in order to consider the production of family by the state through governance of kinship norms. In considering the governance of family, I also discuss Federal and Queensland legislation since the introduction of this Bill. I consider ways in which the state has produced particular family structures as worthy, and not worthy, of rights and recognition through a range of legislation.
Next, I draw on public submissions to the 2012 Senate Inquiry into same-sex marriage in order to unpack several dominant discourses that have been commonly used to argue against same-sex marriage over time. This inquiry received extensive submissions from the Australian public and organisational bodies and, as such, this data set provides access to a broad range of discursive constructions. Analysis of 174 submissions opposing same-sex marriage highlights norms about family which may otherwise remain implicit; norms which constrain recognition and intelligibility of diverse families and cast them as inferior and invalid forms.
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Whereas discourses of family have been used broadly over time to argue against same-sex marriage, alternate dominant discourses emerged during the same- sex marriage postal survey in 2017. In the third section of this chapter, I examine a discursive shift from arguing against same-sex marriage on the basis of family structure to a push against same-sex marriage on the basis of gender diversity. This section draws on campaign materials issued by Coalition for Marriage, the official
“no” campaign which operated during the leadup to the 2017 same-sex marriage postal survey. In particular, it examines television advertisements and printed material issued by Coalition for Marriage which were freely available on its website for the public to disseminate. This section also draws on websites, traditional and social media and Hansard transcripts. Further, I discuss the pervasiveness of normative discourses of family in that they continue to operate over time, even as norms change.
Governing Kinship Norms: Producing the Nuclear Family as Natural, Normal, and Ideal as the Marriage Act is Changed (2004)
Continuous debate about same-sex marriage over much of the past two decades in Australia has held same-sex parents subject to significant public and political commentary about their capacity and validity as parents, and their right to form families has come under regular public scrutiny. Some commentary has equated same-sex parents’ desire for a family with viewing children as “fashion accessories”
(Dunne in ACT, 2004, p. 103), “trophies” or “pets” (Shelton in NSW, 2009, p. 87), positioning same-sex parents as shallow and selfish, and as focused on their own interests rather than the wellbeing of their children. Same-sex parenting, itself, has been described as a non-consensual, uncontrolled social experiment on children (van
Gend, 2013) and as a form of “emotional child abuse” which needs to be stopped
(Francis in Grubb, 2010; Francis in Lucas, 2010). Further, some commentators who
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view marriage as the basis of family have claimed that legislating for same-sex marriage is tantamount to state-sanctioned ‘motherlessness’ and ‘fatherlessness’ and will lead to yet another “stolen generation” (Australian TFP, 2017, pp. 9-10; van
Gend, 2013).
In contrast to this messaging about same-sex parented families, heterosexual two-parent families have been positioned as ‘natural’ and stable in such commentary and as an ideal structure for raising well-adjusted children. In these examples, heterosexual parents and same-sex parents are positioned as the inferior half in binaries of heterosexual/homosexual, good/bad, natural/unnatural, worthy/unworthy, valid/invalid, and normal/abnormal. These binaries are underpinned by social norms of recognition that produce same-sex parents as unintelligible and ‘less-than’ nuclear families. They demonstrate that recognition is “a site of power by which the human is differentially produced”, setting limits upon who will qualify as “recognisably human” and who is worthy of rights and protection (Butler, 2004, p. 2).
The state is implicated in recognition, in that legitimation and delegitimation of particular family structures by the state form part of the normative horizon through which intelligibility is produced (Butler, 2004). The concept of the state is complex and not reducible to law, legislation, and social policy, nor is it impenetrable, as challenges to the state can result in new legitimacies (Butler, 2004). However, legislation, policy and commentary by the state form part of the repetition and production of norms regarding who will be recognised as worthy of rights and protection, and who will be denied the same.
With this in mind, this section draws on a speech delivered by Attorney
General Phillip Ruddock (Cth. Parliamentary Debates, 2004) when introducing the
Marriage Amendment Bill in Federal Parliament in 2004. This section considers the
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discursive norms of family drawn upon to justify the introduction of the legislation, ultimately granting and denying marriage rights on the basis of sexuality. I also consider Federal and Queensland State Government legislation governing GSD persons and notions of kinship. This section provides opportunity to consider ways in which the state has produced family over time, and to think through who is, and who is not, produced as worthy of rights and protections.
In Australia, the state has long produced the nuclear family as ‘ideal’ through legislation, social policy, and political commentary, thereby failing to account for family diversity that clearly exists in society. In 2004, in response to legal challenges and increasing calls for recognition of same-sex relationships, the then Liberal
Australian Federal Government solidified its definition of marriage by changing legislation to describe marriage as “the union of a man and a woman to the exclusion of all others voluntarily entered into for life”, thereby officially excluding same-sex couples from this social practice (Marriage Amendment Act 2004, Cth, s.1.5(1)).
While marriage may appear unrelated to same-sex parenting, because one does not need to be married in order to parent, the 2004 decision was justified on the basis of normative notions of family.
On introducing the Bill, the Attorney General Philip Ruddock stated clarification in legislation was essential because of “significant community concern about the possible erosion of the institution of marriage”, noting that this “central and fundamental institution” was “vital to the stability of our society” and provided the
“best environment for the raising of children” (Cth. Parliamentary Debates, 2004, p.
29356). This speech, and similar notions expressed by others within media, public and political spheres at the time, drew on social norms of recognition that implicitly
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and explicitly positioned biological, heterosexual parents as ‘natural’, ‘normal’ and ideal, and same-sex parents as unnatural and harmful to both children and society.
In his speech, Ruddock also made clear the government’s “fundamental opposition to same-sex couples adopting children”, stating that all children,
“including adopted children, should have the opportunity… to be raised by a mother and a father” (Cth. Parliamentary Debates, 2004, p. 29356). This statement reflects an ideology not just based in genetics and biology, but one grounded in heteronormative constructions of family, where children supposedly ‘do best’ with two opposite sexed parents whether or not there is a biological connection.
The utilisation of family discourses in Ruddock’s speech reflects Butler’s conception of the state as “the site of articulation for a fantasy”, through which real and existing family structures in society are ignored while ideological notions of kinship are projected outwardly (Butler, 2004, p. 116). As such, regulations of the state are often focused on figuring “social life in certain imaginary ways” rather than providing an order to what currently exists (Butler, 2004, p. 117). In 2004, when the
Marriage Act was changed to ensure the exclusion of same-sex couples, 3,400 children were reported in Census data as living in same-sex couple families
(Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2013). Further, the number of single parent family households and unmarried, cohabitating heterosexual parent households had been rising for several decades (de Vaus, 2002). This meant there were a multitude of family structures that did not meet the articulated fantasy which underpinned the government’s change in legislation. Consequently, rather than seeking to order the variety of existing family forms through legislation, the state sought to (re)produce family in an imaginary and ideological nuclear form through the exclusion of same- sex couples. Further, when deconstructed through a binary lens, positioning the
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nuclear family as ideal means that everything that is not nuclear is opened up to being seen as not ideal. As such, in recognising only nuclear families as valid, same- sex couples were produced as inferior and unsuitable as parents, without the need for articulation on this matter.
Preventing the participation of same-sex couples in the institution of marriage on the basis of idealised family structures provides an example of how subjection works through exclusion. Such legislation provides an example of how social norms that grant “humanness” on certain individuals deprive others from achieving such a status, thereby “producing a differential between the human and the less-than- human” (Butler, 2004). This is not to say that intelligibility is governed solely by juridical laws; it is essential to recognise that “ways of knowing” and “modes of truth” also “forcibly define intelligibility” (Butler, 2004, p. 58). However, the 2004 changes to the Marriage Act which remained in place until December 2017, provide one example of how legislation can govern intelligibility of the family.
Refusal by the state to recognise one’s family structure “can be experienced only as a form of derealisation if the terms of state legitimation are those that maintain hegemonic control over the norms of recognition” (Butler, 2004, p. 114). In other words, the refusal to recognise same-sex families as valid and worthy of rights casts them as unintelligible, as unreal. There are significant consequences for families who experience state-sanctioned delegitimation and derealisation, particularly since we all desire recognition, and a lack of recognition can lead to an unviable or unliveable life (Butler, 2004). When delegitimated by the state, there can also be significant impact on rights and benefits (Butler, 2004).
There are numerous examples of Federal and Queensland legislation that have delegitimated same-sex parented families, both prior to the 2004 changes to the
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Marriage Act, and beyond. Such legislation has resulted in less rights and protections than opposite-sex parents. For instance, until 2008, same-sex couples were not recognised as even existing in federal law relating to areas such as taxation, social security, child support, superannuation, citizenship, and health, leading to a lack of protection for same-sex parented families and their children (Australian Government,
Department of Social Services, 2018). Legislation relating to adoption and assisted reproductive technologies provide another example of delegitimation. Historically, state laws across Australia have prevented same-sex couples from adopting children.
Relevant to this project is that Queensland was one of the last states and/or territories to change laws in order to allow same-sex couples to adopt, with this change occurring late in 2016 (Queensland Government, Minister for Communities, Women and Youth,, 2016), followed only by South Australia in 2017, and Northern Territory in 2018. Even at the time of writing, anti-discrimination legislation in Queensland provided an exemption to those who offer assisted reproductive technology (ART) services, allowing them to refuse service to potential same-sex parents “if the discrimination is on the basis of relationship status or sexuality” (Anti-
Discrimination Act 1991, s. 45A, p. 36). Each of these laws demonstrate the
(re)production of same-sex parented families as unworthy of the same rights and protections as nuclear families, thereby positioning families made up of one man and one woman as the ideal foundation of family.
With regard to gender diverse married couples, prior to a change of legislation in 2018 which followed the introduction of same-sex marriage in 2017, married transgender persons in Queensland wishing to change the sex marker on their birth certificate were required to divorce their spouse before this change would be recorded (Smee, 2018). In relation to the topic of this thesis, this legislation meant
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that transgender parents were required to choose between recognition of their sex/gender and maintaining their family structure. This requirement was in addition to undertaking sex affirmation surgery, a prerequisite for any Queenslander wishing to change sex markers on their birth certificate. It can be seen then that normative views of sex, gender, sexuality and family have been (re)produced within legislation, demonstrating differential production of the human who is worthy of rights and protections.
Birth certificates have also governed recognition and intelligibility of family by the state in ways that draw on normative notions of family. Until 2010, Queensland birth certificates only allowed the options of ‘mother’ and ‘father’ to be recorded on the birth certificate, thus recognising just opposite-sex and single parenting structures. While Queensland birth certificates now provide options for ‘mother’ and
‘father/parent’, they continue to define families in particular, limiting ways. For instance, children born into polyamorous, co-parenting or other diverse family constellations would only be able to have two parents listed on the birth certificate, that is, the person who gave birth to the child and one other parent. For male same- sex couples utilising surrogacy arrangements in Queensland, the surrogate must appear on the birth certificate as ‘mother’, leaving space for only one father to be listed on the birth certificate. While a parentage order can then be used to transfer parentage “from the birth mother… to the intended parents, as a part of the surrogacy arrangement”, the birth certificate remains the same (Queensland Government, 2019, para. 1) . Demonstrating another way that normative discourses govern recognition of family on Queensland birth certificates, a male who gives birth can only be listed as the ‘mother’ of a child on the birth certificate. In the United Kingdom, similar rules led a transgender man, who had given birth and had been named as ‘mother’ on
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his child’s birth certificate, to petition the High Court in a bid to be named instead as
‘parent’ or ‘father’. However, the High Court ruled “that a person who carries and gives birth to a child” is legally a ‘mother’, no matter their gender identity, due to
“their biological role in giving birth” (The Queen v. Registrar General for England and Wales, 2019, s.146). This meant that the father continued to be listed as ‘mother’ on the birth certificate as a result of legislation, despite not identifying as such. Each of these examples demonstrates the birth certificate as a site of governing family, showing how sex and gender norms are repeated within cisnormative and heteronormative regulatory frameworks in ways that do not recognise diversity.
As part of her work defining social justice, Fraser17 (2000) asserts that misrecognition is an institutionalised form of marginalisation which can involve invisibility, cultural domination and disrespect toward misrecognised groups, constraining the ability for such groups to participate as full members of society.
Certainly, delegitimation of GSD families by the state as outlined above can create constraints for GSD families. However, it is important to note that while the state contributes to the normative horizon, social norms are produced through the performativity of norms, and this reaches beyond the state. Norms that are grounded in historical and social discourses circulate throughout society, both subordinating and producing subjects (Butler, 2004). Normative discourses producing nuclear families as valid and intelligible, and GSD parented families as invalid and unintelligible, operate on a broad scale in society.
This section has shown that, in Australia, the state has produced the nuclear family as ideal over a lengthy period of time, thereby producing GSD parents as unintelligible and/or unfit to parent. Rather than recognising the broad diversity of
17 Fraser’s three-dimensional model of social justice is broader than the discussion allows for here.
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family structures that exist across society, the state has articulated an idealised fantasy of family in which children are parented by one cisgendered man and one cisgendered woman, preferably their biological mother and father. In this articulation of the nuclear family as ideal, only particular forms of family have been constructed as worthy of rights and benefits. This forms part of the production of the human, in which particular persons are produced as worthy of rights and privileges, and those who are not are produced as less than human. It is only in recent times that legislative changes have begun to provide greater recognition of GSD parented families, however, there are still some inequities in this area.
In the next section, I shift away from discussing the production of family by the state to examine, more closely, some of the circulating discourses in society which produce same-sex parented families as inferior to nuclear families.
Comparatively, there is little Australian commentary about gender diverse parenting.
Although the data draws on commentary and texts about same-sex parented families, it provides insight into some of the circulating discourses of family which have potential to impact on both gender and sexuality diverse parented families.
Delving into the Discourses of the Nuclear as Natural, Normal, and Ideal (2012)
Over the past two decades, public, media and political commentary about same-sex marriage has offered many insights into circulating discourses of ‘family’.
During this period, opinions about same-sex marriage, couples, and families, have been both sought and expressed across multiple media, including television, newsletters, newspapers, websites, and social media, as well as through government led inquiries. In this section, I examine and deconstruct some of the dominant discourses within submissions to a 2012 Senate Inquiry which sought public opinion on allowing Australian same-sex couples to marry. Analysis of these public
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submissions provides an opportunity to consider discourses of family which have circulated broadly within society. Specifically, I examine submissions which expressed opposition to the introduction of same-sex marriage in Australia and positioned same-sex parented families as unintelligible, unrecognisable, and ‘less than’ the nuclear family form. The decision to draw on oppositional submissions is grounded in Butler’s (2004, 2005) work around recognition and intelligibility. Butler
(2004) claims that the category of human is differentially produced through exclusion and foreclosure, constructing those who fit within dominant norms as worthy of rights and protections. Discourses which position GSD families as inferior to nuclear families construct GSD parents, in relation, as unworthy of the same rights and protections. These discourses are important to unpack as they continue to inform recognition and intelligibility of ‘family’ and have the potential to impact on GSD parents as they navigate the primary schools their children attend.
For two reasons, I move beyond discourses produced by the state to consider those circulating more broadly in society. First, the public are not limited by the same constraints as politicians and media with regard to scrutiny of views expressed and, therefore, public commentary provides opportunity to access and analyse normative discourses circulating more broadly within society (Bruns, 2003;
McCluskey & Hmielowski, 2012). Second, although the state is implicated in the production of norms of recognition, these norms are generated on a much broader scale, as is the power through which they function. This is because subjection, which works through norms of recognition, paradoxically both subordinates and produces the subject (Butler, 2004). The subject is implicated in the repetition of norms and thus it is important to move beyond normative discourses (re)produced by the state to consider public commentary. As schools function within a broader context, it is
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useful to elucidate circulating discourses as groundwork to analysis in further chapters within this study.
The data set used for this section draws on submissions to an Australian Senate inquiry into same-sex marriage. Between August 2004, when the definition of marriage was solidified to include only heterosexual unions, and December 2017, when same-sex marriage was legalised in Australia, 24 same-sex marriage related
Bills were raised in Federal Parliament (Commonwealth of Australia, 2018), demonstrating this was an issue of interest over a lengthy period of time. One such
Bill was the Senator Hanson-Young Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 201018 which aimed to open up marriage to same-sex couples by allowing “marriage regardless of sex, sexual orientation or gender identity” (Commonwealth of
Australia, Senate Standing Committees on Legal and Constitutional Affairs, 2012,
Summary).
An inquiry was eventually established in 2012 which sought public opinion on the Bill. Over a period of approximately seven weeks, an extraordinary 79,200 submissions were received from the public, including from citizens and organisations, signifying intense interest in the issue of marriage equality
(Commonwealth of Australia, Senate Standing Committees on Legal and
Constitutional Affairs, 2012). Approximately 58% of these submissions were in support of the Bill and 41% were opposed. Of all the submissions, 360 were published on the Senate website, representing a cross-section of views across all submissions. I undertook analysis of the 174 published submissions opposing the Bill
18 The Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 2010 “sought to amend the Marriage Act 1961 (Cth) to remove discriminatory references based on sexual orientation and gender identity; and allow marriage regardless of sex, sexual orientation or gender identity” (Commonwealth of Australia, 2018, Summary)
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to understand how these discourses work to construct the nuclear family as ‘correct’, natural and ideal. As noted earlier, the focus on oppositional submissions relates to
Butler’s (2004, 2005) conceptions of recognition and intelligibility and the construction of only particular categories of human as worthy of rights and protections (Butler, 2004, 2005). Recognition represents “a site of power by which the human is differentially produced” (Butler, 2004, p. 2), and discourses which elevate the nuclear family position GSD parents as unintelligible and inferior. By unpacking normative discourses which differentially produce some families as unintelligible and less-than, it is possible to better understand exclusionary operations and discursive barriers which may impact on GSD parents as they navigate schools.
This analysis began with a broad pass of the data in which I examined submissions opposing the Bill to derive conceptual categories using an inductive approach. I then coded the submissions according to these categories, adding further categories where necessary, and using separate colours for each (See Tables 5.1 and
5.2 for a full list of categories and descriptions; An expanded table which includes examples of each category is located in Appendix F). Coded segments of text were then placed into a table, with a different column for each category.
Table 5.1 Categories for coding submissions opposing marriage equality
Categories for coding x Normative conceptions of family x Religious values/religion x Promiscuity/ Non-monogamy x Perceived high risk lifestyle x Breakdown of society/ morals/values x Education x Childhood-as-innocence x Slippery slope x Same-sex couples are not disadvantaged/ discriminated against x Discrimination against those who disagree with marriage equality x Shouldn’t change because of a minority
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Table 5.2 Description of categories for coding submissions opposing marriage equality
Category Description
Normative conceptions of Arguments grounded in the importance of marriage family remaining between a man and a woman because this forms the building block of family - thus, drawing on normative conceptions of family. Religious Values/ Arguments against the Bill on the basis of religious Religion values/religion . Promiscuity/ Arguments against allowing SSA couples to marry on the Non-monogamy basis of a perceived promiscuity, that is, that gay couples cannot be monogamous. Within this argument, marriage is considered to be a monogamous institution. Perceived high risk Opposition on the basis the government should not promote a lifestyle perceived high risk lifestyle of SSA persons through recognition of same-sex relationships. Breakdown of society/ Arguments about marriage as the cornerstone of a morals/values society/moral society and thus allowing same-sex marriage would lead to a breakdown of society/morals/values. Education Opposition on the basis that same-sex marriage would mean changes to what is taught in school. In 2017, this was a dominant discourse in arguments opposing same-sex marriage. It is worth noting that, comparatively, this argument was used minimally amongst submissions in 2012 Childhood-as-innocence Opposition on the basis of concerns about childhood innocence/vulnerability. Slippery slope Opposition on the basis of slippery slope arguments, that is, if same-sex marriage is allowed, this will lead to other forms of marriage currently excluded. Same-sex couples Arguments against notions that same-sex couples are are not disadvantaged/ discriminated against/disadvantaged. i.e. A view that same- discriminated against sex couples already have equality. Discrimination against Arguments reversing notions of same-sex marriage as those who disagree with redressing discrimination by stating that allowing same-sex marriage equality marriage discriminates (or will lead to discrimination) against those who believe that marriage is between a man and a woman. Laws / institutions Argument that institutions that fit the majority of society shouldn’t change should not be changed on the basis of a minority group. Often because of a minority mentions “noisy activists”
(An expanded version of Table 5.2, including examples of data from each category, is provided in Appendix F)
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Significantly, 84.5% of published submissions in the data set expressing opposition to same-sex marriage included arguments on the basis of normative conceptions of family, providing access to, and demonstrating the pervasiveness of normative family discourses in such debates. After initial coding, I moved to analyse data within the category labelled normative conceptions of family. I focused on this data category as it provided insight into some of the discourses drawn upon to position nuclear families as superior to same-sex parented families. This section of analysis helped to name and deconstruct some of the circulating discourses that can position same-sex parented families as unintelligible, unrecognisable, and less than nuclear families. These discourses are relevant to both gender and sexuality diverse parented families.
I observed that public submissions to the Senate Inquiry which drew on, and therefore (re)produced, normative family discourses to argue against same-sex marriage, regularly drew on an implied or explicit binary of heterosexual parenting/same-sex parenting. In this binary, heterosexual parenting was positioned as superior. For example:
Extract 5.1 Senate Inquiry: Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 2010 (2012) - Submission 27
It is entirely impossible for the human bonding and emotional ties that exist in a
normal relationship to exist in a same-sex relationship… A small child may
receive the expected care and attention, but despite every effort the natural order
of life itself dictated a balance between the male and female components of
parenting. A child reared in such an unbalanced home environment must
eventually become adversely affected for life. (Submission 27)
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And also:
Extract 5.2 Senate Inquiry: Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 2010 (2012) – Submission 19
The evidence is simply overwhelming: by every indicator, children do best when
raised by their own biological mother and father, preferably cemented by
marriage. Many thousands of studies from the world over have made this
overwhelmingly clear. Any other household structure simply does not compare.
Obviously with homosexual couples, any child brought into that arrangement will
be disadvantaged from the very start. (Submission 19)
In each of these extracts, heterosexual parents are positioned as the superior half of the heterosexual/same-sex parent binary, with same-sex parenting arrangements rendered as unnatural, unstable, and unhealthy for children. For instance, in Extract
5.1, heterosexual relationships are labelled “normal” and part of the “natural order of life”. Thus, in binary opposition and even without articulation of its opposite, same- sex relationships are cast as ‘abnormal’ and ‘unnatural’. Further, the submission’s author asserts that same-sex relationships cannot have the same level of “human bonding” and “emotional ties” and that same-sex parented families are “unbalanced”.
As a binary, this positions heterosexual families as having greater emotional bonds and balance in comparison. In Extract 5.2, heterosexually parented families are positioned as superior (“any other household structure simply does not compare”), with children of same-sex parents being described as “disadvantaged from the very start”. In these submissions, binaries therefore work as a mechanism to (re)produce nuclear family formations as superior and same-sex parented families as unintelligible, inferior and harmful. Butler (2004) avows that
The question of what it is to be outside the norm poses a paradox for thinking, for
if the norm renders the social field intelligible and normalises that field for us,
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then being outside the norm is in some sense being defined still in relation to it.
(p. 42)
In other words, those who are viewed as unintelligible are defined in relation to social norms, even though they exist outside of them. In each of the above examples, the binary functions to define same-sex parenting arrangements in relation to heterosexual family structures, with same-sex parenting structures constructed as inferior.
In analysing data relating to conceptions of family across submissions which opposed same-sex marriage, there were three key ways that same-sex parents were produced as unintelligible and inferior to nuclear families: (i) Procreation and notions of the ‘natural’ family; (ii) Necessity of gender complementarity for children’s development and wellbeing, and; (iii) Child rights discourses. While the data set in this chapter draws on arguments which oppose same-sex parenting, the analysis provides insights into normative discourses of family that impact on many diverse family structures, including gender diverse families, single parent families, and so on. This is because these ideas focus on notions of how a family should be. Such conceptualisations of correct and ideal families have particular social, cultural, historic, and economic roots which are underpinned by sexism, gender inequality, racism, classism, western thought, political ideologies, and conservatism. The sections that follow here present the resulting analysis, structured by the three discourses noted above.
Procreation and notions of the ‘natural’ parent. Notions of biology are used within the submissions to elevate the nuclear family. From this perspective, one cisgendered man and one cisgendered woman are considered to be the natural basis of family because they have the potential to
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conceive a baby. Thus, the discursive category outlined in this subsection focuses on a perceived superiority of heterosexual relationships and parenting based on notions of ‘natural’ procreation. Here, because the sexual and reproductive organs of cisgendered males and females fit together in particular ways that have the potential to produce a baby, cisgendered, heterosexual parenting and relationships are constructed as being ‘of nature’, and therefore as ‘natural’ and normal. Within this conception, the union (through marriage) of one man and one woman in which biological children are conceived and cared for is constructed as the ‘natural’ family unit. Correspondingly, because the sexual and reproductive organs of same-sex couples do not allow conception to occur without a ‘third party’, same-sex parenting is constructed as ‘unnatural’.
Within the data set, such commentary often elevates marriage as a heterosexual-only institution because of the potential for ‘natural’ conception. It is the potential that is important here, as many people are unable to conceive and therefore do not achieve this potential, but that does not seem to be of significance within arguments of this nature. Often implicitly, but sometimes explicitly, this discourse therefore positions same-sex relationships and parents as inferior through the use of a natural/unnatural binary. For example
Extract 5.3 Senate Inquiry: Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 2010 (2012) – Submission 22
Homosexuals are equal as human beings but homosexual relationships are not
equal to a heterosexual relationship because homosexual couples cannot mate and
produce offspring. Nature determines they are not equal in terms as a fruitful
childbearing relationship in comparison with a marriage between a man and a
woman who can produce children themselves without any third party help to do
so (Commonwealth of Australia, Senate Standing Committees on Legal and
Constitutional Affairs, 2012, Submission 22)
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In the extract above, heterosexual relationships are positioned as superior in binary opposition to same-sex relationships, grounded in the construction of heterosexual conception as ‘natural’. For instance, in Extract 5.3, the author states that nature has determined “homosexual relationships are not equal to” heterosexual relationships because they are not “childbearing relationship[s]”. Butler (2007 [1990]) cautions against concepts of naturalness, noting that performativity in the context of regulatory frameworks conceals the constructedness of norms, causing them to appear as natural.
Ideas about heterosexual relationships as natural are produced within the heterosexual matrix, a cultural grid of intelligibility through which cultural norms of sex, gender, sexuality and desire are (re)produced. The gender binary, constructed as male and female, is (re)produced through a lens of compulsory heterosexuality, in which cisgendered male and female sexual organs are produced as serving the purpose of procreation (Butler, 2007 [1990]). From this perspective, the notion of
‘natural’ is used as a powerful differential to position same-sex relationships and same-sex parenting as ‘unnatural’ and inferior to that of heterosexual relationships and parenting arrangements on the basis of procreational possibility. Commentary connecting marriage with procreation and family under the banner of ‘natural’ fails to recognise that the nuclear family is not natural, but a constructed, politicised social unit reflecting Western, white, patriarchal, capitalist ideologies and histories
(Carrington, 2002).
Necessity of gender complementarity for children’s development and wellbeing. Another way that notions of the ‘natural’ appear in submissions producing same-sex parented families as ‘less than’ heterosexual parented families, relates to ideologies about complementarity of gender. These notions position gender as
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natural, fixed and in binary opposition, with males and females perceived as bringing different innate qualities to everyday life. This perspective of complementarity views parenting by both male and female parents as a requirement for healthy, balanced child development. Thus, one male parent and one female parent are considered essential in a family, as mothers and fathers are considered to have different roles which are based on innate gendered behaviours and qualities. Consequently, same- sex parented families are constructed as incomplete, unbalanced and therefore as detrimental to the development and wellbeing of children. Excerpts representing this perspective include:
Extract 5.4 Senate Inquiry: Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 2010 (2012) – Submission 43
It is a proven fact as well as an observed reality from my experience, that every
child is FAR better off and more balanced in life if they are brought up by a
mother and a father in their distinctive roles and as role models. (Commonwealth
of Australia, Senate Standing Committees on Legal and Constitutional Affairs,
2012, Submission 43)
And also:
Extract 5.5 Senate Inquiry: Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 2010 (2012) – Submission 53
It has… also been proven scientifically that men and women are different. They
think differently, their hormones are different and they parent differently. It has
also been shown that children need both these parenting styles to develop in a
healthy well-balanced manner. (Commonwealth of Australia, Senate Standing
Committees on Legal and Constitutional Affairs, 2012, Submission 53)
Comments such as those above draw on gender essentialism to construct mothers and fathers with innate qualities and parenting roles based on gender. For instance, in
Extract 5.4, mothers and fathers are constructed as having distinctive roles based on
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gender. Further, in Extract 5.5, males and females are described as having different physiology (“think[ing] differently”; “hormones are different”) with a view that this creates different parenting styles based on gender. Notions of innate gender and a complementarity of gendered parent roles can also be seen in the following submission, which quotes from a book called The Family in the New Millennium:
The Place of Family in Human Society:
Extract 5.6 Senate Inquiry: Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 2010 (2012) – Submission 101
Mothers are better able than fathers to read their children’s words, deeds, and
appearance to determine their emotional and physical state. This maternal
sensitivity to children helps explain why mothers are superior when it comes to
nurturing the young, especially infants and toddlers. Because they excel in
reading their children, they are better able to provide their children with what
they need—from a snack to a hug—when they are in some type of distress…
Compared to mothers, fathers are more likely to encourage their children to take
up difficult tasks, to seek out novel experiences, and to endure pain and hardship
without yielding. Fathers are more likely than mothers to encourage toddlers to
engage in novel activities, to interact with strangers, and to be independent; and
as children enter adolescence, fathers are more likely to introduce children to the
worlds of work, sport, and civil society. (Loveless in Commonwealth of
Australia, Senate Standing Committees on Legal and Constitutional Affairs,
2012, Submission 101)
Extract 5.6 exemplifies the notion that both a “mother” and “father” have specific roles based on innate qualities connected with their gender. Mothers, on the basis of being female, are constructed as nurturing, emotionally connected and sensitive
(“maternal sensitivity”; “superior when it comes to nurturing the young”;
“provid[ing] their children what they need… when they are in some type of
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distress”). Conversely, fathers, on the basis of their ‘maleness’, are constructed as active, independent and strong (encouraging children to “engage in novel activities, to interact with strangers, and to be independent”; “more likely to introduce children to the worlds of work, sport, and civil society”). As such, there are particular innate qualities that are believed to be ‘natural’ to women, and therefore to mothers, as well as to men, and therefore fathers. These qualities are constructed as gendered and complementary, and necessary as a combination for children’s wellbeing and development. These particular discourses work to (re)produce GSD families as unintelligible, unrecognisable, and ‘less than’ nuclear forms.
Butler (2007 [1990]) draws on notions of performativity to challenge perceptions of gendered behaviours as ‘natural’, innate and caused by one’s sex, instead avowing gender is an effect of repeated material and discursive acts within regulatory frameworks. From this perspective, gender is not something we are; rather, it is something we do, that is, perform. Thus, while the ways in which gender is ‘done’ are constructed as a natural outcome of one’s sex, gender is actually reproduced and generated through unconscious repeated speech and bodily actions. It is in the repetition over time that performance of gender is concealed and appears as being caused by one’s sex. These gendered performances are regulated and policed in multiple ways to (re)produce normative and socially acceptable (intelligible) ways of doing gender. These normative meanings are framed by the heterosexual matrix through which normative ideals of “femininity’ and “masculinity” are produced as a hierarchical binary (Butler, 2007 [1990]).
In addition to gender performativity, motherhood and fatherhood discourses which construct mother/father roles as complementary are grounded in notions of the ideal nuclear family. These ideals position mother as nurturer and father as provider
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and disciplinarian, and are grounded within particular histories and social constructs, including the bourgeois family of the 1800s and psychological and sociological theories (Bloch, 2003; Carrington, 2002). These discourses form part of the normative horizon through which particular gendered performances are repeated within regulatory frameworks and which produce the effect of gender. Gendered notions of parenting, therefore, are grounded in heteronormativity, cisnormativity, and performativity, and are highly constructed. Research has demonstrated that in contrast to claims about the importance of male/female parented families to children’s wellbeing, children of same-sex parents have equal, if not better, outcomes than children of heterosexual parents (Bos, Knox, van Rign-van Gelderen, &
Gartrell, 2018; Dempsey, 2013; Knight, et al., 2017; Manning, Fettro, & Lamidi,
2014). It is worth noting that ideas about gender as fixed, innate, and natural, are also drawn upon in discourses which position gender diverse parenting as harmful to children (see Grigorovich, 2014).
Child rights discourses. Examining the above categories has shown that nuclear discourses are underpinned by notions of ‘natural’ families based on perceived ‘natural’ gender expressions and ‘natural’ biological conception. Such families are positioned as ideal for children’s wellbeing and development, and for the welfare of society. Utilising this frame, families with two mums or two dads are considered to be a threat to this ideal within the commentary. As was seen in the previous section, same-sex parented families are seen as a threat to notions of gendered role development. Further, because same-sex parented families may require biological intervention in order to conceive, some commentary positions this form of family as a threat to the child’s
‘right’ to the ‘natural order’, that is the right to have a mum and a dad.
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Accordingly, the next category which draws on conceptions of family to argue against same-sex marriage relates to the child’s ‘right’ to a mother and father. Within the data examined, excerpts reflecting this discourse include:
Extract 5.7 Senate Inquiry: Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 2010 (2012) – Submission 113
For same-sex couples, having a child will always involve the use of one or more
persons outside their relationship. This is unjust to children and destructive of
their family connectedness. This practice should not be publicly endorsed or
encouraged, because it involves a profound loss and deprivation for the child
concerned: the loss of a pre-eminent and vital relationship with their biological
father or mother. As affirmed by international law, children have a right to their
biological heritage. It is a grave injustice to deliberately deprive children of the
experience of being loved and raised by their natural mother and father and to
prevent them from having a developing and ongoing relationship with their
biological siblings. (Commonwealth of Australia, Senate Standing Committees
on Legal and Constitutional Affairs, 2012, Submission 113)
And also:
Extract 5.8 Senate Inquiry: Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 2010 (2012) – Submission 232
Homosexual partners cannot fulfil the ideal right of children to know and be
raised by both their biological parents, a right enshrined in article 7 of the
Convention on the Rights of the Child. (Commonwealth of Australia, Senate
Standing Committees on Legal and Constitutional Affairs, 2012, Submission 232)
Each of these excerpts draw on international law to make assertions regarding the
‘right’ of children to be raised by their biological mother and father. Words used in
Extract 5.7 to describe the impact of using a donor outside one’s relationship to conceive a child include “unjust”, “destructive”, “profound loss”, and “deprivation”, signifying that same-sex parenting is perceived here as a relationship of infliction
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and damage to the child because it potentially removes connection to the child’s
“biological heritage”. Similarly, in Extract 5.8, it is asserted that same-sex parents interfere with a children’s “right to know and be raised by both their biological parents”. This language positions same-sex parents as the inferior half of a binary in relation to heterosexual, biological-parent families. It implicitly produces genetic
‘parents’ as ‘natural’ and same-sex parents who use donor eggs, sperm or surrogacy arrangements as selfish and willing to intentionally cause damage to a child in order to attain a family. Underpinning this is the notion that same-sex parents use donors and reproductive technologies by choice due to their sexuality, in that heterosexual parents who have trouble conceiving are not under the same scrutiny. Consequently, within this category of commentary, rights-based discourses are used to produce the child as a victim of same-sex parenting arrangements, and same-sex parents as perpetrators. In this sense, same-sex parents were produced as inferior and in binary opposition to elevated heterosexual parents and were thereby not recognised as valid parents.
Butler (2004) claims that the concept of who is viewed as human is constantly subject to production and deproduction, and international human rights form one of the mechanisms by which these conceptions change. Comments reflecting this discourse commonly refer to the child’s right to a mother and father as one that is upheld by international law, referring to the UNCRC Article 7, which advocates for children, as far as possible, … to know and be cared for by his or her parents”
(United Nations General Assembly, 1989). The Article does not clarify what is meant by ‘parents’ and ‘family relations’, however this is commonly interpreted by those who oppose same-sex marriage and parenting as referring to a child’s connection with their genetic ‘parents’ and ‘family’.
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The Convention can be viewed both as an effect of social norms, in that it draws on particular normative constructions circulating at the time it was written, as well as productive of social norms, in that the document is a key instrument in
“influencing how the international community conceives of, and deals with, children” (Morrow, 2011, p. 8). Certainly, donor conception and surrogacy arrangements are more widespread now than they were in 1989, when the
Convention was ratified. Without clarification of the definition of ‘parents’ in the
Convention, Article 7 potentially perpetuates notions of the “ideal family” as nuclear, thereby producing the use of donor and surrogacy arrangements by same-sex parents as an infliction on the rights of the child. Importantly, there is also potential to produce the notion of donors as ‘parents’, rather than as donors, because of their genetic connection, and children born through donor conception or surrogacy as being deprived of one or more of their ‘real’ parents. Wade (2017) suggests the
Convention is met through legislation that requires clinics to keep records so that donor conceived children can, should they wish to do so, access information about genetic ‘family’ at the age of 18.
A later clarification by the United Nations (UN Committee on the Rights of the
Child, 2013) in relation to a different Article within the Convention acknowledges foster and adoptive parents, however, there has been no clarification regarding donor conception. This clarification suggests that the United Nations defines ‘parent’ as the legal guardian of a child or the person who is legally listed as a parent on the birth certificate. It could be considered that it is in the way that the text is picked up and the intertexuality of how it is cited and rearticulated that positions same-sex parenting as a child rights issue. Gillett-Swan and van Leent (2019) contend that ambiguity within the UNCRC means that “tensions arise when trying to define the
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best interests of the child” particularly where “cultural and/or religious traditions are in apparent competition with some of children’s other rights that may be in their
‘best interests’” (p. 6). However, the authors clarify that the UN guarantees child rights contained within the convention, even if these rights are not in alignment with cultural or religious values. Butler (2004) asserts “the norm is actively conferring reality, indeed, only by virtue of its repeated power to confer reality” (p.51). Thus, the repeated take-up of human rights discourses to confer a reality in which child rights are being taken away performatively re-establishes this norm.
As well as generating norms of family as genetic or ‘biological’, and producing children of donor conception as the victims of a devastating loss, child rights discourses also ignore that there are a plethora of ways that same-sex parented families may actually hold connections with genetic ‘relations’. Same-sex parented families are formed in multiple ways including through the use of known donors, known surrogates, as step-families with children from previous heterosexual relationships, and in co-parenting arrangements, to name a few. In Australia, donor conceived children can access donor information, should they wish to pursue this, at age 18. In Victoria, donor conceived children are also able to access information about their donor siblings through a central register at age 18. However, decisions about pursuing connections is a decision for individuals and families.
Discourses based on child rights produce the ‘biological’ nuclear family as ideal and same-sex parented families as selfish and willingly causing harm. These notions are grounded in the idea of the nuclear family as normal, natural and correct.
Discourses of child rights, therefore, are used to shut down the rights of same-sex attracted persons (and others, such as gender diverse and single persons who wish to conceive using donor sperm) on the basis that one’s family structure does not fit a
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nuclear form. In discourses about child rights, one’s origins are considered to be genetic, but as Butler (2004) notes, there are multiple ways to tell stories of origin that “are not reducible” to a single story of geneticism (p. 128). Narratives of family are much broader than this and there are multiple ways of ‘doing’ family. Child rights discourses (re)produce the fantasy of an ideological family, rather than the reality of the multitude of diverse family structures that exist in current society. Thus, the conception that same-sex parents should be disadvantaged on the basis of child rights, while other (nuclear structured) families are not held to the same account, is underpinned by heteronormative and cisnormative notions of the superiority of the nuclear family discussed earlier in this section.
In 2004, when the Bill to amend the Marriage Act was introduced to parliament, Attorney General Phillip Ruddock drew on normative conceptions of family to argue for marriage to be between just one man and one woman, claiming that this was the best environment for the raising of children. Similarly, nuclear conceptions of family have also informed legislation over time, such as adoption law, who is allowed to marry, and who is labelled as family on a birth certificate, demonstrating ways in which the state has governed kinship and positioned GSD parented families as unintelligible and as inferior to nuclear families over time.
Normative discourses of family have also been used in broader society to argue against same-sex marriage drawing on conceptions of the nuclear family as ideal.
These discourses have positioned ‘correct’ families as comprising of one cisgendered woman and one cisgendered man with biological children, conceived through procreation. Men and women are considered to have innate gendered qualities that they bring to parenting within these discourses. Those drawing on normative notions of family argue that these gendered qualities are complementary, with both male and
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female roles required for appropriate childhood development (and therefore experiences of success and wellbeing in later life). Further, commentators drawing on normative discourses of family argue that children have a right to this ‘natural order’. In other words, it is considered that the right to have a mum and a dad is threatened by same-sex parented families because they may need biological intervention in order to conceive. Examining normative discourses such as these is important, as norms are performative in that they are repeatedly conferred through reiteration. These discourses have positioned same-sex parented families as inferior to nuclear families and as harmful to children, over a lengthy period. Given that norms are performative, repeated discourses such as those discussed so far in this chapter have the potential to impact on GSD parents and families as they navigate primary schools.
Butler’s theories show that norms of recognition can be interrupted in performances alternative to the norm, however. I will now go on to discuss changes to discursive norms that have occurred as they have been rattled and troubled19, suggesting that the recognition and intelligibility of same-sex parented families has changed somewhat over time. I make the point that even with these shifts, normative discourses such as those unpacked above continued to circulate in society during the
2017 same-sex marriage postal survey. Further, I consider alternative dominant discourses which emerged during the 2017 same-sex marriage postal survey, particularly in relation to gender diversity and education. In addition to normative constructions of family, these discourses have the potential to impact on gender diverse parents in schools.
19 Butler uses terms such as ‘rattled’ and ‘troubled’ to describe interruptions to the citational chains which repeatedly reiterate norms. Reiterations cause norms to appear as natural and conceal their construction, however interruptions to the norm create openings for new ways of thinking and doing.
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Normative and Discursive Changes: Dominant Discourses and Gender Diversity (2017)
Some would doubtless argue that norms must already be in place for recognition
to become possible, and there is surely truth in such a claim. It is also true that
certain practices of recognition or, indeed, certain breakdowns in the practice of
recognition mark a site of rupture within the horizon of normativity and implicitly
call for the institution of new norms, putting into question the givenness of the
prevailing normative horizon. (Butler, 2005, p. 24)
Although same-sex marriage debates have produced significant commentary grounded in normative discourses of family, there was a notable discursive shift in the lead up to the 2017 same-sex marriage postal survey. Although arguments based on normative family discourses were evident during this period, the official “no” campaign instead argued on the basis of concerns about education, freedom of speech, gender diversity and religious freedom (Coalition for Marriage, 2017b). One area of particular focus related to gender diversity and education. In this section, I discuss normative changes and shifting discourses. Data analysed in relation to this section comprises media, websites, and political commentary and texts by those opposing same-sex marriage. I collected this data during the leadup to the same-sex postal survey, between August and November 2017, through a daily examination of traditional and social media and websites. I also examined television advertisements and printable materials produced by Coalition for Marriage, the official “no” campaign operating in the leadup to the 2017 same-sex marriage postal survey.
These were available on the Coalition for Marriage website. Additionally, I examined Hansard transcripts as same-sex marriage legislation was debated and passed in the Senate in December 2017. I looked for patterns within the data and
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found that although normative discourses of family were evident in the leadup to the postal survey, there was a noticeable shift in dominant discourses used to argue against same-sex marriage throughout this period. I now move to this analysis.
The quote by Butler at the beginning of this section demonstrates that norms are porous and have the capacity to change. In other words, norms are open to resignification through altered performances and ruptures to the normative horizon that trouble and rattle the terms by which recognition occurs. Butler argues that
“sometimes the very unrecognizability of the other brings about a crisis in the norms that govern recognition”, claiming that it is our desire to recognise or be recognised that can compel one to “question the limits of established regimes of truth” and take a critical stance toward these normative regimes (Butler, 2005, pp. 24-25). Hence, although we are born into a world in which recognition is framed by existing norms that are not of our own making, norms alter, and with these alterations come
“changes in what does and does not count as recognisably human” (Butler, 2004, p.
31). GSD parents interrupt nuclear family norms and, through performing family in ways that alter from the nuclear norm, there is possibility that established realities which appear to be set in stone will experience a critical opening.
These changes to the normative horizon are reflected in statistics collected in relation to attitudes toward same-sex marriage, relationships, and parenting over many years. While not scientific, public polls reflected low levels of acceptance of same-sex marriage in 2004, with support increasing significantly by 2010
(Commonwealth of Australia, n.d.). This increasing acceptance was reflected in a
2012 House of Representatives survey in which out of 276,437 responses to the inquiry, more than 60% supported same-sex marriage (Commonwealth of Australia,
Standing Committee on Social Policy and Legal Affairs, 2012). The results of the
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voluntary online survey provide some insight into the gaining acceptance of same- sex marriage at the time. Further, an IPSOS survey in 2013 of approximately 1,000
Australians suggested high support for same-sex parenting (IPSOS, 2013). It was reported that 67% of those Australians surveyed supported adoption by same-sex couples and 72% agreed that “same-sex couples are just as likely as other parents to successfully raise children” (IPSOS, 2013). It is clear then that opinions had shifted over time.
Data from other sources, too, provides some insight into changes to the normative horizon over time and reflect a growing acceptance of same-sex attraction and families within Australia. The International Social Survey Program (ISSP), for instance, provides some insight into attitudinal changes toward same-sex relationships. ISSP surveys periodically asked the following question of participants across several countries, between 1991 and 2008: And what about sexual relations between two adults of the same sex, is it always wrong, almost always wrong, wrong only sometimes, or not wrong at all, there were stark differences regarding attitudes between these dates (Smith, Jaesok, & Jibum, 2014). In 1991, 53% of the Australian sample claimed same-sex relations were “always wrong” compared to 33.2% in
2008. Further, whereas 23.2% of the Australian sample considered same-sex relations as “not wrong at all” in 1991, 41.6% expressed this view in 2008 (Smith et al., 2014). These statistics suggest shifting norms over time with regard to attitudes toward same-sex attraction.
Similarly, the Household, Income and Labour Dynamics in Australia (HILDA)
Survey (Melbourne Insitute, 2019) also provides comparative data of significance.
HILDA is a “nationally representative longitudinal survey of Australian households… funded by the Australian Government Department of Social Services
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(DSS)”, providing longitudinal data on attitudinal shifts within Australia over time
(Wilkins, Laß, Butterworth, & Vera-Toscano, 2019, p. 4). HILDA, which is ongoing, began in 2001, and surveys more than 17,000 Australians each year (Wilkins et al.,
2019). Participants are the same individuals each year, allowing researchers to understand how participants’ reported attitudes, values, and lives have changed over time (Wilkins et al., 2019). Specific questions have been asked periodically since
2005 regarding views which the survey relates to views of “traditional marriage”, such as “children will usually grow up happier if they have a home with both a father and a mother” and “homosexual couples should have the same rights as heterosexual couples do” (Wilkins et al., 2019, p. 19). In 2017, a working paper was released comparing responses of the 2005 and 2015 waves of the survey, specifically in relation to the latter question. This paper concluded that HILDA data demonstrated
“overwhelming social change” over this ten year period, with just under 40% of participants supporting “equal rights for same-sex couples” in 2005, compared to
66% in 2015 (Perales & Campbell, 2017, p. 19). This data shows a trend of greater acceptance over time of same-sex couples and same-sex parenting. The shifts discussed above demonstrate the porous nature of norms, in that, changes had occurred through interruptions to, and the troubling of, the normative horizon with regard to family and who is viewed as the recognisably human.
Despite these shifts, nuclear norms continued to be evident in commentary and texts leading up to the same-sex marriage post survey vote in 2017. For instance, the
Australian Christian Lobby (2017) claimed there were three reasons to vote no, one of which was “impact on children”, stating that “every child deserves a mum and a dad”. Similarly, Australian Marriage Forum President and member of the Coalition for Marriage, van Gend (2017), argued that same-sex marriage represented a
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redefinition of “family itself as no longer being based in nature, the male, the female, the offspring, the child’s deep and primal link to her mother and father” (5:30).
Further, he avowed that “we are doing something grievous to children if we deliberately by law cut them off from their dad or cut them off from their mum”
(17:50). These comments draw on discourses, discussed earlier, which position nuclear families with biological parents as normal, natural, correct, and in binary opposition to same-sex parented families, which are positioned as inferior and harmful to children. These normative discourses also silence the complexities/realities of families beyond those that are gender and sexuality diverse, for instance, the sister who donates an egg to a heterosexual couple who can’t conceive or who is a surrogate.
Similarly, after same-sex marriage was passed in parliament at the end of 2017,
Senator Goodenough reflected in a parliamentary speech about the changes:
Extract 5.9 Parliamentary Speech, Senator Goodenough
Every child is conceived and born of a father and a mother. Every child should
have the basic right to be raised by his or her parents, unless there are extenuating
circumstances which prevent this. This is a social norm which the government
ought to protect. Parents of opposite genders bring unique characteristics and
traits, which enrich a child's life with diversity. Where a child is separated from
his or her biological father or mother due to unfortunate circumstances, then it is
my belief that it is best that the child has access to a father figure and a mother
figure to guide him or her to develop into a well-adjusted young adult.
(Goodenough in Cth. Parliamentary Debates, 2017a, pp. 12612-12613)
This excerpt reflects several of the nuclear family discourses discussed earlier in this chapter, such as child rights and the complementarity of men and women in
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parenting. Further, it demonstrates that normative discourses of family continued to circulate at this time despite increasing recognition of same-sex families.
Although the statistics reported earlier in this section demonstrate attitudinal changes over time toward same-sex relationships and parenting, such changes to the normative horizon do not automatically lead to an uncomplicated assimilation of new norms. As Butler (2004) asserts,
When the unreal lays claims to reality, or enters into its domain, something other
than a simple assimilation into prevailing norms can and does take place. The
norms themselves can become rattled, displaying their instability, and become
open to resignification (p. 27)
That there is not a simple integration of new norms can be seen in the multiple and conflicting discourses about family that continue to circulate in Australian society.
While it is important that the state recognises diverse families to ensure parity through systemic changes such as same-sex marriage and other legislation relevant to
GSD families and individuals, discourses positioning the nuclear family as ideal continue to circulate in both explicit and implicit ways in broader society despite the introduction of same-sex marriage. Here, I again raise Butler’s caution against the
“fantasy of state power” in that legitimation by the state does not necessarily lead to intelligibility (p. 117). Moreover, it should be noted that even though same-sex marriage opens marriage rights up to same-sex attracted persons, it does so on the basis that there are two people in the relationships and, as such, reinforces
(homo)normative notions of family as headed by two parents. For families who operate beyond these boundaries, such as parents in polyamorous relationships that may wish to marry or have protections within existing law, exclusion and foreclosure by mechanisms of the state continue.
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It can be seen, then, that although attitudes to same-sex relationships and parenting have changed over time, nuclear norms about family continue to circulate and interrupt the ordinary lives of diverse families. Butler (2005) contends:
The norms by which I seek to make myself recognisable are not fully mine. They
are not born with me; the temporality of their emergence does not coincide with
the temporality of my own life… Because norms emerge, transform, and persist
according to a temporality that is not the same as the temporality of my life, and
because they also in some ways sustain my life in its intelligibility, the
temporality of norms interrupts the time of my living. Paradoxically, it is this
interruption, this disorientation of the perspective of my life, in this instance of an
indifference in sociality, that nevertheless sustains my living (p. 26-35)
Here, Butler explains that normative discourses, which both constrain and enable one’s intelligibility, are grounded in history, society and culture. Normative discourses of family have particular social, cultural, historical, political, and economic roots. Although these discourses are not of our time, they continue to circulate, reproducing and generating notions of family today and interrupting the time of our living. These normative discourses have the potential to impact on the experiences of GSD parents and families as they engage with schools.
While normative discourses of family were clearly evident in the leadup to the
2017 postal survey on social media and news and print media (Abbott, 2017; Brown,
2017; Canavan, 2017; Shelton, 2017; van Gend, 2017), there was a noticeable shift in dominant discourses used to argue against same-sex marriage throughout this period.
Whereas during previous same-sex marriage debates notions of the nuclear family as ideal constituted a dominant discourse in arguments opposing same-sex marriage, throughout the 2017 postal survey period this discourse became less prominent. The
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official “no” campaign, managed by Coalition for Marriage, instead argued against same-sex marriage on the basis of potential impacts on schooling, gender diversity, freedom of speech and religious freedoms, avoiding the topic of same-sex parented families (Coalition for Marriage, 2017b). This shift in discourse reflects a shift from
‘child rights’ to the ‘rights of the adult’. Interestingly, individual members of the group, such as ACL and Australian Marriage Forum continued to argue against same-sex marriage on the basis of family, just not under the Coalition for Marriage banner.
As a part of this campaign, Coalition for Marriage placed gender identity high on the agenda, particularly with regard to education and schooling. This approach potentially drew on widespread moral panics relating to SSCA. An “ideological firestorm” (Law, 2017, cover) exploded early in 2016 regarding SSCA, with much of the political, public and media panic relating to teaching concepts of gender diversity in schools. Robinson and Davies (2018) state that “the central controversy appeared to focus on the category of gender and the concept of gender fluidity underpinned by queer theory, with the latter concept increasing panic about children’s future sexual identities” (p. 20). Reflecting Cohen’s (2011 [1972]) finding that public anxieties generated during moral panics often result in repressive changes to policy, the moral panic about SSCA led to both an inquiry and censorship of aspects of the SSCA initiative, as well as a decision by the Federal Government not to renew funding.
Accordingly, panics about gender diversity and the Safe Schools initiative became symbolic of fears about the inclusion of gender diversity in educational contexts in the leadup to the 2017 same-sex marriage postal survey.
Gender diversity represented one mechanism by which Coalition for Marriage argued against same-sex marriage in the leadup to the postal vote, shifting away from
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previously dominant discourses of family. Several television advertisements focused on the predicted teaching of gender diverse content in schools should same-sex marriage go ahead. For instance, one advertisement featured a mother saying
“schools have no place teaching my son radical gender ideas that he might not be born who he was born as” with an image of The Gender Fairy, a children’s book designed to assist children transitioning gender and their families. Another advertisement, included the voice of a mother who had received wide publicity early in the campaign against SSCA, stating in the advertisement “school told my son he could wear a dress next year if he felt like it” (Coalition for Marriage, 2017c). From this position, same-sex marriage was positioned as leading to widespread teaching of gender fluidity in schools and educational contexts.
A brochure by Coalition for Marriage titled “3 ways gay marriage will change the classroom” [emphasis in original], distributed widely, included the following warning:
Extract 5.10 Brochure: 3 ways gay marriage will change the classroom
Once gender is removed from the marriage law it will quickly be removed from
the classroom. Kids will be taught their gender is fluid, something they choose,
not something they are born with… Boys who identify as girls will be encouraged
to wear girls’ uniforms and use the girls’ toilets… This agenda is already
promoted by programs like the controversial, gender bending ‘Safe Schools’
program and will only become more widespread once this law is changed.
(Coalition for Marriage, 2017a)
Like the previous commentary and texts, this excerpt connects same-sex marriage with the removal of gender from law, rather than representing marriage as an inclusion-based process (“Once gender is removed from marriage law” [italics
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added]). Further, the text anticipates that this ‘removal’ of gender will lead to genderless classrooms (“Once gender is removed from the marriage law it will quickly be removed from the classroom” [italics added]). This idea connects with other language evident at the time related to fears about same-sex marriage leading to a ‘genderless society’. It showed that arguments against same-sex marriage had shifted from family discourses grounded in normative notions of sexuality to discourses drawing on essentialist notions of sex and gender which construct sex and gender as innate, fixed, and in a binary opposition of male/female. Panics about the creation of a genderless society have since continued in response to changes which recognise gender diversity, such as through sex markers on licences and birth certificates (for instance, see Brown, 2018; Scott, 2018; Today, 2018). Further, fears about the inclusion of gender diverse concepts in the classroom draw on conceptions of childhood-as-innocence (Robinson & Davies, 2018). Recognition of gender diversity is therefore constructed as a threat to both children and society in this shift to arguing against marriage on the basis of fears relating to recognition and inclusion of gender diversity.
Thus, while dominant discourses during this period involved a shift from arguing against same-sex marriage on the basis of the heterosexual (nuclear) family to arguing on the basis of conceptions of gender diversity entering the classroom, these ideas are grounded in the same constructs. In other words, while opposition to same-sex marriage is manifested through different discursive mechanisms, each is underpinned by notions of Butler’s (2007 [1990]) heterosexual matrix. The heterosexual matrix positions sex as causing gender (including gendered performance) and gender as causing desire, and produces heterosexuality and cisgendered bodies as normal and natural. This construct forms part of the production
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of power, indicating what is culturally intelligible and not intelligible, thereby designating who is marginalised and excluded in dominant culture. These discourses produce GSD parents, families and identities as abnormal, inferior and harmful to children. In other words, because same-sex and gender diverse parenting interrupts constructions of gender and sexuality within the heterosexual matrix, they are viewed as a threat to the ideal nuclear structure. These discourses have the potential to impact on GSD parents and families as they engage with schools. As such, this chapter provides important background for forthcoming chapters which draw on interview data of GSD parent participants in this study.
Conclusion
This chapter has provided a critical analysis of context and background by examining some of the circulating discourses of family produced within political, public, and media commentary and texts. The chapter was underpinned by Butler’s
(1995b, 2004, 2005) concept of recognition and the ways in which the human is differentially produced through foreclosure and exclusion. The operation of recognition constructs particular categories of human as worthy of rights and protections, and others as unworthy of the same affordances. I specifically focused on discourses which (re)produced GSD parents and identities as unintelligible, unrecognisable, and harmful to children. These discourses constrain recognition and are therefore important to unpack as they have the potential to create barriers for
GSD parents and families as they navigate primary schools.
The chapter examined data at three points of the same-sex marriage debate between 2004 and 2017. In the first section of this chapter, I examined the governance of family by the state, considering the ways in which ‘family’ was produced when changes to the Marriage Act were made in 2004 to exclude same-sex
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couples. Normative discourses which positioned the nuclear family as natural, normal and ideal were (re)produced by the state to justify this change. I also considered the production of family by the state through legislation that has excluded
GSD families and relationships. This discussion demonstrated that GSD parents and families have long been constructed as unworthy of the same rights and protections as nuclear families. In Section 2, I drew on data from public submissions to the 2012
Senate Inquiry into the Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 2010, in order to examine family discourses which operate at a broader level of society to position same-sex parented families as unintelligible, unrecognisable, and ‘less than’ nuclear families.
Discourses which framed same-sex parenting as inferior and harmful to children included the construction of biological families as ‘natural’, gender essentialist beliefs about the necessity of gender complementarity in parenting for the wellbeing of children, and assertions about the rights of the child to have a mother and father.
These ideas reproduce and contribute to a powerful discourse in society that nuclear families are natural, normal and ideal. As power functions through binary oppositions, GSD parented families are positioned through these discursive constructions as unnatural, abnormal and inferior. I then shifted focus to consider discourses evident in arguments against same-sex marriage during the time of the
2017 postal survey. I argued that although greater recognition of same-sex parented families had occurred over time, normative discourses of family continued to circulate during this period. I also noted that there was a shift in dominant discourse during the postal survey period. Panics about gender diversity in educational contexts became of significant focus in the official campaign to prevent same-sex marriage from going ahead. Here, gender diversity was positioned as unintelligible and
‘unreal’ in a context where gender diversity is becoming more and more visible.
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Further, gender diversity was positioned as a threat and inappropriate for children and education. These discourses (re)produce and reify notions of sex/gender as a binary of fixed, innate, and unchangeable male/female categories, and position gender diverse persons as dangerous and less than human. This analysis provides insight into some of the ways that sexuality, gender and family have been regulated through the heterosexual matrix to position GSD parented families as unintelligible, unnatural, and unrecognisable.
In order to provide analysis of the broader discursive context, I have drawn on
Butler’s (1995b, 2004, 2005) theorising about recognition and intelligibility, in which Butler makes clear that recognition is desired by all persons. Discourses that deny recognition chip away at one’s sense of being and belonging (Ahmed, 2016) and have the potential to impact on the experiences of GSD parents as they engage with their children’s schools. By providing an analysis of these discourses within the broader discursive context, this chapter provides a contextual nest in which to situate thinking through interview data in the following two chapters. In the next chapter, I will examine interview data in relation to the (re)production of the nuclear family within schools and schooling communities.
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Chapter 6: The Mum/Dad Binary:
Productions of the Family as ‘Nuclear’ in Schools
About 11 per cent of gay couples now have children… What will we do, as a
society, when we get to the stage that these kids are starting to go to school?
What will happen when you go to school, the teacher says, 'I want you to draw a
picture of your mum and dad or grandma and grandad and your house' and all
the rest of it? The kids will be saying, 'What do I do? I don't have a mum,' or 'I
don't have a dad.' 'It's Peter and Sam,' or 'It's Elizabeth and Amanda.' They're not
known as mum and dad. Are we then going to say, 'Oh well, we can't discriminate
against these children, so we must call their parents by their real name?' Is this
the impact it is going to have on our educational system and in our school
rooms? What about grandma and grandad? It’s alright for this generation but
what about the next generation? No longer will you be able to call them grandma
or grandad. These kids won’t have them… Have we really stopped to think about
the ramifications this is going to have on our society as a whole?... I warn
everyone: it will have an impact on our society.
– Hanson in Cth. Parliamentary Debates, 2017b, Speech in
response to second reading of Marriage Amendment
(Definition and Religious Freedoms) Bill, 2017
In the previous chapter, I analysed discourses which circulate in broader society about GSD parented families. Normative discourses of family raised in oppositional responses to debates about same-sex marriage over many years have often positioned same-sex parented families as unintelligible, unrecognisable, and somehow ‘less than’ nuclear families. Further, these discourses have framed same-
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sex parenting as inferior and harmful to children. As these discourses draw on nuclear family norms, they have the potential to impact on the day to day lives of
GSD parents. Gender diversity, too, has been cast as unintelligible, unrecognisable, and inferior, within recent contexts at a time when gender diversity has become more and more visible. Such discourses (re)produce and reify notions of sex and/or gender as fixed, innate, unchangeable, and existing within a male/female binary, and position gender diverse persons and parents as less than human. The previous chapter provided analysis of the broader discursive context with a specific focus on discourses operating to foreclose and exclude GSD parents, families and identities.
The chapter drew on Butler’s (2004) work on recognition and intelligibility that makes the point that recognition is desired by all and is informed by dominant social norms. The purpose of the previous chapter was to situate interview data collected for this project within the broader discursive context as a way to provide the reader with an understanding of contextual factors operating in the lead up to and at the time of data collection for this study.
Here, I once again draw on the queer theoretical concept of binaries, however this time binaries become a central organiser of the chapter. I use the concept of the mum/dad binary to explore ways in which family is (re)produced in schools as being nuclear through language and naming and how this concept can extend into school policy, practices, and community perspectives regarding family. This discussion draws on the narrative analysis of transcripts of the interviews conducted for this project. In addition to deconstructing binaries, I draw on Butler’s (1997a, 1997b) work on language and interpellation. These concepts are central to subject formation, whereby subjects are both subordinated by, and productive of, normative discourses.
By reporting on a narrative analysis of the interview transcripts, the analysis within
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this chapter gives insight into the multiple and ongoing ways that families can be
(re)produced as nuclear in schools, and a failure to recognise the diversity that exists across families. Given Butler (2004) argues that all persons desire recognition, this has the potential to impact on GSD families’ sense of belonging in schools. In deconstructing ways in which binaries work to reproduce families as nuclear in schools, implicit norms are exposed. This provides a critical opening for rethinking ways in which families are constructed in schools through language, discourse and practice.
Family in Australia: Thinking Beyond the Nuclear
Family is a pervasive and powerful term central to our culture. It “represents a highly unstable and contradictory space” (Robinson & Diaz, 2016, p. 67). This idea is supported in the United Nations document entitled ‘Protection of the Family’ (UN
Human Rights Committee, 1990) that states “there is no definition of the family under international human rights law” (p. 7). This is because of the variety of conceptions of family throughout society at local and global levels. However, the nuclear family is often incorrectly represented as a ‘natural’ formation which has existed across time and space. In the extract from a speech above, Pauline Hanson, a conservative Australian Federal Senator, drew on the mum/dad binary to present family diversity as threatening the very fabric of society. However, families within
Australia have always been diverse, and I argue that automatically drawing on the mum/dad binary to refer to families is problematic.
While notions of the ideal family position cisgendered, biological, mum/dad families living with their children in the same household as the natural form of family, Australian data reveals that ways of ‘doing’ family are diverse and ever- changing. In 2016, there were 6.1 million families in Australia (Australian Bureau of
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Statistics, 2017b). A Census is undertaken every five years in Australia, and ‘family’ is defined within the Census as “two or more persons, one of whom is at least 15 years of age, who are related by blood, marriage (registered or de facto), adoption, step or fostering, and who are usually resident in the same household” (Australian
Bureau of Statistics, 2016a, para. 1). Of the 6.1 million Australian families counted in the 2016 Census, 45% comprised couples with dependents living at home
(Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2017b), 37.8% of families were couple households without children living in the home, and single-parent families accounted for 16% of all families (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2017b). Within these groups, blended families represented 3.7% of total families, and step-families 6.3% (Churchill, 2018).
Further, almost 30,000 grandparents were the main carers or guardians of children under 15 years of age in Australia (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2016b). This data goes some way to demonstrating the diversity of family structures in which children grow up in Australia.
The Australian Institute of Family Studies’ Longitudinal Study of Australian
Children (LSAC) (see Australian Institute of Family Studies, 2019) also provides evidence that Australian families are diverse. LSAC has collected data about the lives of 10,000 Australian children and youth since 2003, and an analysis of this data undertaken by Baxter (2016) showed that more than 40% of children aged 13 years or less have lived in a ‘non-traditional’ or ‘complex’ family environment at least once over an eight year period. By ‘non-traditional’ and ‘complex’, the study refers to children living in single-parent families, step-parent families, families where children are cared for across two homes by separated parents, as well as children living in households with half- or step-siblings or adults not in a parenting role
(Baxter, 2016, p. 41). The LSAC analysis does not refer specifically to data relating
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to GSD parented families and does not recognise that some families have more than two parent figures in a household (Baxter, 2016), and it would be possible to problematise the use of terms such as ‘complex’ or ‘non-traditional’ to describe families other than nuclear families. However, the data does provide some insight into the varying family structures in which children grow up.
The Australian Institute of Health and Welfare (AIHW) also provides data which adds to the weight of evidence demonstrating the diversity of families in
Australia. AIHW reports on children living in out-of-home care where their biological parents do not care for them, such as in foster care, residential care, or care by extended family member situations. According to this data, in 2017, 47,915 children lived in out-of-home-care in Australia, representing almost 9 in every 1000 children (Australian Institute of Family Studies, 2018). And so it is clear to see that a nuclear lens fails to recognise the diversity of Australian family structures.
Data relating specifically to GSD parented families in Australia is limited.
While Census data shows the number of same-sex parented families has risen in
Australia over many years, this data is not comprehensive. Census data fails to recognise a variety of family structures with sexuality diverse parents, such as single same-sex attracted parents, co-parenting formations, and polyamorous families.
Medicare provides some data with regard to males who have given birth to children, however it is important to note that this data does not reflect parents who have transitioned gender after birth so, again, this provides limited insight into the number of gender diverse families within Australia. From the limited data on GSD families available, it appears that the number of such families is increasing.
Although there is not comprehensive data relating to GSD parented families, it is clear from the statistics discussed above that there are many ways of ‘doing’
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family within Australia, supporting claims by Robinson and Diaz (2016) that family is an ambiguous and ever-shifting concept. Available statistics challenge the sweeping assertions made by Pauline Hanson in the quote included at the beginning of this chapter. A greater diversity of family formations exists than is assumed within the mum/dad binary invoked by her speech. In interviews conducted for this study, participants reported that the mum/dad binary continues to be produced in numerous ways within schooling spaces. The performative (re)production of families as
‘nuclear’ continues. The statistics detailed above highlight the importance of recognising family diversity in school policy and practices beyond the mum/dad binary. This chapter provides a critical opening to think through practices in order to consider constructions of families within schooling spaces.
I take these statistics reflecting family diversity within Australia as a point of departure to now discuss the concept of binaries, before presenting a narrative analysis to examine ways in which binaries produce family in schools.
Binaries: A Theoretical Lens for Narrative Purposes
Binaries work through a dualism in which two categories are positioned in binary opposition to each other, and an understanding of each term occurs in relation to the other (Sedgwick, 2008 [1990]). A common organiser in Western society, binaries structure thinking and experiences (Seidman, 1997) - heterosexual/ homosexual, masculine/feminine, natural/unnatural, man/woman, and so on.
Power works through the hierarchised structuring of binaries, in that one half of the binary is heroed and the other is positioned as its subordinate Other
(Sedgwick, 2008 [1990]). For example, in the heterosexual/homosexual binary, heterosexuality is positioned as normal and natural and homosexuality is constructed in relation as abnormal, unnatural and Other. Figure 6.1 below represents how this
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binary works. Historically and in present times, heterosexuality has been rewarded with rights and privileges, while homosexuality has been punished or disciplined – in essence denied rights. One half of the binary is constructed as superior, but this elevated category relies on the subordinated category in order to exist. Using the heterosexual/ homosexual binary as an example, there would be no concept of heterosexuality, nor would heterosexual privilege exist, if there was no category of homosexuality. Whereas binaries can appear as natural, they are constructed (Butler,
2007 [1990]). From a queer theoretical perspective, the deconstruction of binary oppositional categories can expose and decentre binaries and unequal power relations, and this can potentially create shifts in hierarchies.
Figure 6.1 Hierarchised structuring of the heterosexual/homosexual binary. I have drawn on Sedgwick’s (2008 [1990]) work to create a visual representation of this concept.
In addition to the hierarchical structuring described above, binaries can also work as a unified whole to erase or suppress other categories existing outside the dualism. An example Butler (2007 [1990]) notes relates to the binary system of male/female sexes within medical discourses and how this has led to the erasure of, and violence against, intersex bodies. Butler explains that particular bodies (those viewed as male and female due to particular chromosomes and reproductive organs) are produced as ‘natural’ and ‘normal’, while intersex bodies, also born completely
Chapter 6: The Mum/Dad Binary: Productions of the Family as ‘Nuclear’ in Schools 217
intact, are often interfered with medically on the basis they do not fit this binarised male/female construction of sex. Here, the positioning of ‘sex’ as a male/female binary means that intersex bodies are seen as requiring medical intervention to make them ‘normal’ – in other words, to make them into what society has constructed as
‘natural’. The existence of intersex bodies is, accordingly, suppressed. The male/female binary erases and suppresses sexes which exist outside the binary.
Similarly, Yoshino (2000) argues that, within legal and political discourses, the heterosexual/homosexual binary serves to reify sexuality in this dualised form, thereby erasing and suppressing the existence of bisexuality, which exists outside this dualism. This is represented in Figure 6.2 in which the red circle represents sexuality as a constructed unified whole, made up of two parts: heterosexuality and homosexuality. The figure shows that the heterosexual/homosexual binary leaves bisexuality outside of this binarism which is representative of sexuality (thus, pictured outside of the red circle). The existence of bisexuality is, therefore, suppressed or erased through the workings of the binary. Power operates here in foreclosing the possibility of recognition of other ways of ‘doing’ sexuality outside the heterosexual/homosexual binary.
Figure 6.2 The binary working as a unified whole to erase/suppress other categories of sexuality. This figure has been created to illustrate Yoshino’s (2000) conceptualisation that the heterosexual/ homosexual binary works as a unified whole to erases/suppresses bisexuality.
Chapter 6: The Mum/Dad Binary: Productions of the Family as ‘Nuclear’ in Schools 218
Yoshino’s (2000) focus on bisexuality is perhaps reflective of the era in which this piece was written, and a more contemporary take on categories of sexuality which are suppressed by the heterosexual/homosexual binary is provided in Figure
6.3. Although queer theory resists categories, in Figure 6.3 I represent some of the many labels that are foreclosed through the heterosexual/homosexual binary. The sexuality categories listed are not exhaustive and providing a comprehensive list would be impossible given that categories of identity are ever evolving and can never be fully captured. However, this figure provides insight into the ways in which the homosexual/heterosexual binary works as a unified whole to reify sexuality in a dual form.
Figure 6.3 The binary working as a unified whole to erase/suppress diverse categories of sexuality. Expanded model.
The concept of the binary working as a unified whole to suppress and erase other categories outside of the binary can also be taken up with regard to gender
(Note: sex and gender differ). Figure 6.4 draws on the conception of gender as a binary of male/female, and represents how this gender binary works as a unified
Chapter 6: The Mum/Dad Binary: Productions of the Family as ‘Nuclear’ in Schools 219
whole to suppress some of the many ways of ‘doing’ gender outside of this binary. In constructing gender as a binary of male/female (usually assumed to be cisgendered), gender identities such as transgender, non-binary, pangender, gender-queer, and so on, are erased and suppressed. Foreclosure of that which exists outside of the binary works to reinforce social and cultural norms about how gender is perceived, as well as to make forms outside the binary invisible or unintelligible.
Figure 6.4 The binary working as a unified whole to erase/suppress categories of gender that sit outside the cisgendered male/cisgendered female binary.
In the analysis that follows, I draw on the concept of the binary working as a unified whole to suppress and erase that which exists outside the binary (as shown in
Figures 6.2, 6.3 and 6.4), in order to think through the construction of family within schooling contexts. Many narratives within the interview data reflected the construction of families through the mum/dad binary. Thinking through these narratives theoretically provides an opportunity to examine ways in which binaries work to position families and, in this way, perhaps interrupt how families are produced within schooling contexts.
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Hailing All Mums and Dads: Production of the Family Through Interpellation
Language is bound up with recognition. Butler (2007 [1990]) argues that
“abstractly considered, language refers to an open system of signs by which intelligibility is insistently created and contested” (p. 198). What Butler (2007
[1990]) means here is that language is implicated in the process of recognition and intelligibility, and this process is not fixed or static. In theorising about language,
Butler (1997a, 1997b) draws, in part, on Althusser’s (1971) much-applied concept of interpellation. This concept relates to the discursive constitution of the subject through address, that is, through being hailed in accordance with prevailing norms of recognition (Butler, 1997a). An example of interpellation is the proclamation common at the birth of a new child, such as “It’s a boy!” or “It’s a girl” (Butler,
1997, p. 49; 2011 [1993]). These proclamations are evident even before the birth of a child, such as during scans and with the recent phenomena of gender reveal parties.
Such utterances interpellate the child into discourse, assigning a gender and producing the child as a particular gendered being (Butler, 2007 [1990], 2011
[1993]). This interpellation, or being hailed as boy/girl, male/female, man/woman is reiterative, repetitively producing the subject throughout one’s life.
Whereas Althusser’s theorisation involves a subject who turns and recognises themselves when hailed by an authoritative voice, Butler (1997a) contests this assertion that the subject must accept the call for interpellation to take place. Rather, she states that:
The subject need not always turn around in order to be constituted as a subject,
and the discourse that inaugurates the subject need not take the form of a voice at
all… Imagine the quite plausible scene in which one is called by a name and one
turns around only to protest the name: “That is not me, you must be mistaken!”
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And then imagine that the name continues to force itself upon you, to delineate
the space you occupy, to construct a social positionality. Indifferent to your
protests, the force of interpellation continues to work… Interpellation is an
address that regularly misses its mark… The mark interpellation makes is not
descriptive, but inaugurative. It seeks to introduce a reality rather than report on
an existing one; it accomplishes this introduction through a citation of existing
convention… Its purpose is to indicate and establish a subject in subjection, to
produce its social contours in space and time. Its reiterative operation has the
effect of sedimenting its “positionality” over time. (Butler, 1997a, pp. 31-34)
This excerpt demonstrates that interpellation forms part of the workings of power, that is, “that which forms, maintains, sustains, and regulates bodies” (Butler, 2011
[1993], p. 9). Butler’s assertion is that a subject does not need to turn around when it is hailed or named, nor accept the call, in order to be discursively produced as a social subject through the interpellation. The subject may refuse the call, standing in critical relation to it, yet still be constrained by the call. According to Butler (2011
[1993]), this is because interpellation does not describe reality, rather it attempts to establish reality, producing and reifying the subject in particular ways through reiteration over time. Further “the subject is constituted (interpellated) in language through a selective process in which terms of legible and intelligible subjecthood are regulated”. The names that a subject is not called are also constitutive, inaugurating the subject and agency/possibility through foreclosure (Butler, 1997a, p. 41).
Within discourses that centre representations of the nuclear family, families are interpellated using language which draws on the mum/dad binary, and as discussed in the previous chapter this occurs in public debates, media representations, and political commentary and texts. For instance, child rights discourses draw on a perception that both a mother and father are important to child development due to
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notions of innate gendered qualities positioning ‘correct’ families through a mum/dad binary lens. This leads to same-sex parented families being represented as
‘motherless’ or ‘fatherless’ and gender diverse parents being cast as selfish, confusing and damaging to children.
Similarly, Pauline Hanson (see above) was concerned with predicted
“ramifications” for society should schools no longer be able to assume that
‘mum/dad’ language fits all families. In this scenario, parents who are compliant and sit within current structures are considered acceptable, however Hanson’s speech positions same-sex parented families as the cause of negative and irreversible changes that will occur in society. In potentially wanting naming practices changed to recognise families beyond the mum/dad binary, same-sex parents are positioned as to blame because they trouble the status quo. Of course, naming practices represent just one facet of the production of family as nuclear. The constitution of families through the mum/dad binary is also evident within schooling structures, systems, policies and practice. As has been demonstrated already in this chapter, significant family diversity already exists in Australia, and this means that the interpellation of families in schools through the mum/dad binary is problematic. The (re)production of all families as reflecting the mum/dad binary is an articulation of a fantasy of family and does not reflect social reality.
The Mum/Dad Binary: Producing families as nuclear. Several examples of the interpellation of families in schools using mother/father or mum/dad language were raised across a number of interviews undertaken for this project. For instance, Mia and Sam recounted an experience which occurred when Ava was in Grade One, where the classroom teacher sent a folder home, in the first week of the school year, labelled ‘Mum/Dad Notes’. Mia and
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Sam were a same-sex couple at the time, and they reported finding this folder in their child’s bag was upsetting as the label on the folder did not reflect their family structure. They narrated what happened when they went to meet with the teacher to discuss the folder:
Extract 6.1 Interview with Mia and Sam
T819 Mia: so then we took the folder into the meeting with her and explained that you know same-sex family and so obviously Ava would talk about having two mums and T820 Michelle: Mmm T821 Mia: you know it’s really important to normalise that experience and we don’t want her to feel any different and families come in all shapes and sizes and she said oh yes yes yes yes yes absolutely yep that’s very important and then we got out the folder and said so stuff like this and she went ohhh T822 Sam: that is when she explained the slash
Sam went on to share that, in response to their raising the issue of the folder label, the teacher explained that she had placed the slash between the words ‘Mum’ and
‘Dad’ in order to recognise family diversity, in that if a child’s parents were separated the folder would be labelled appropriately no matter which parent the child was staying with on that particular night. Mia and Sam talked with me about their response to this explanation:
Extract 6.2 Interview with Mia and Sam
T827 Mia: and we went maybe you could call it parents’ folder T829 Sam: or just notes home T830 Michelle: Mmm T831- Mia: just notes home… ooh she said ohhh… oh I could do that T835 T836 Michelle: Ohhh T837 Mia: yeah maybe you could T838 Michelle: oh did she change it T839 Sam: yeah T840 Mia: Yeah T841 Sam: Yeah
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T842 Michelle: mmm T843 Sam: can’t remember what she changed it to T844 Mia: did she change it for everyone or just ours T845 Sam: I wouldn’t know T846 Mia: (laughs) nor would I
This narrative tells of an instance where there had been an attempt to hail families through a nuclear lens using mum/dad language within the school. This language is underpinned by discourses of nuclear families that position all parents as biological and opposite-sexed, through the naming of parents as “Mum/Dad”. The teacher is not the originator of this language, rather the language represents a performative
(re)production of existing nuclear discourses of which the origin point can never be known. The interpellation misses its mark as, in Mia and Sam’s case, it does not describe the family which it attempts to hail – even if the intent was to be inclusive of diverse families. Butler (1997a) warns that “the performative effort of naming can only attempt to bring its addressee into being: there is always the risk of a certain misrecognition” [formatting as per original] (p. 95). In this case, Mia and Sam’s family was misrecognised in the folder’s address. Butler notes that when misrecognition occurs, the subject hailed may refuse the call and insist on being addressed in a different way. In the narrative above, Mia and Sam tell of contesting the language on the folder, as they explained to the teacher that “families come in all shapes and sizes” (T821). This contestation represents a refusal of the mum/dad language through which they were interpellated, reflecting Butler’s notion that one may be hailed but reject the call. Such a refusal has the potential to create a critical opening that allows for resignification of existing norms. In this case, their folder was renamed. However, Mia and Sam were unsure if their folder was the only one that had the label changed. If all other folders were left with their original label, the
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interpellation of families as nuclear will have continued through this apparatus despite changing the language on Mia and Sam’s folder.
The ‘Mum/Dad Notes’ folder reflects the mum/dad binary working as a unified whole, producing families as nuclear and foreclosing on other forms of family. Even though the narrative suggests family diversity was in some ways considered (children with separated parents living across multiple homes), this attempt is still reflective of nuclear discourses which position families as being headed by a biological, cisgendered, opposite-sexed mother and father. In using the nuclear ‘mum/dad’ binary to name parents, the label on the folder works to erase or suppress diverse forms of families existing outside the mum/dad binary. In the case of Mia and Sam, same-sex families, such as theirs, were erased as an effect of the labelling, rendering their family invisible. Similarly, in narratives shared by several families regarding notes and forms with spaces for information or signatures labelled ‘Mother’s Name’ and ‘Father’s Name’, the mum/dad binary erases and suppresses family diversity. As can be seen in Figure 6.5, the interpellation of families through the nuclear mum/dad binary erases many diverse forms, including single parent families, same-sex parent families, polyamorous families, some co-parenting arrangements, families in which grandparents have taken on a parenting/caregiver role, and so on.
Chapter 6: The Mum/Dad Binary: Productions of the Family as ‘Nuclear’ in Schools 226
Figure 6.5 The interpellation of families through the nuclear mum/dad binary erases many diverse ways of doing family.
While the above discussion relates specifically to naming practices, the concept of the mum/dad binary as a unified whole which erases or suppresses family diversity can extend into school policy and practice, as well as experiences GSD parents may have with administration, teachers, other school staff, and schooling communities. Thinking about families through the mum/dad binary can result in practices that create invisibility around, or exclude, GSD parented families, as well as other forms of family that do not fit the mum/dad binary. These practices often occur unconsciously and represent a performative (re)production of nuclear families as natural, normal and ideal, thereby foreclosing the multiplicity of family formations operating within schooling spaces. I now shift the discussion from looking specifically at naming practices to considering other ways in which families were discursively produced through the mum/dad binary in school contexts. Across interview data, there were significant examples within narratives about the framing of families in this way.
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Several narratives across the interviews conducted in this research related to assumptions made about all families having a mum/dad structure. For instance, Mia and Sam shared that during Ava’s Prep year, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day celebrations formed a significant part of the curriculum. In the lead-up to Father’s
Day, no alternatives were provided for families without a father to bring; in a sense, rendering Mia and Sam’s family invisible. While the family found their own solution, deciding to bring along a male family friend, Mia and Sam reported the experience left Ava feeling “different” (T552) for the first time in her life, and the couple were “really upset” (T530) about “having been put in that situation” by the school (T532). In this example, families were viewed through a lens of the mum/dad binary, with a resulting assumption that every child had a ‘dad’ they could bring.
This erases the diversity of family structures and situations within schools, and contributes to the (re)production of the nuclear family as ‘normal’ and ‘natural’.
Assumptions that everyone has a mum and a dad as an effect of the mum/dad binary can also be seen in children’s policing of family. The parents of two families
(Jade and Averie; Bella) shared narratives about their children having been approached by other students with regard to their family structure. It was reported that the classmates asked questions of the children, initially, at least, not understanding a same-sex family structure. Bella also reported that children asked questions of her as a parent as well. She shared that when she was assisting small groups in the classroom one day, some children asked Bella – as one of Harper’s two mums: “How come you’re the mum? We saw another mum. Who’s the mum?”
When she responded that Harper had two mums, Bella said the children continued asking her, “But which one of you is the mum? But where’s the dad?” Bella shared that all of the children in the class were listening for the answer, including Harper.
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Bella reported that the children also asked Harper similar questions. She understood this to be the first time that Harper had been questioned in such a way as Harper’s previous school was attended by many same-sex parented families. Such questions drawing on the mum/dad binary demonstrate, as per Butler’s (1997b) paradox of subjection, that subjects are both constrained by norms as well as complicit in their production. Here, Harper’s classmates were constrained by nuclear family norms as well as productive of these, through their questioning.
These types of questions can place children in the position of having to field queries about why their family does not match a dominant social norm. Bella shared a discussion with the teacher in which she was told that Harper had responded to the children’s continued questions by telling them that she had a brother and a sister living in another state, as well as a dad who was dead. In other words, she made up family members to make her family structure fit the normative notions of family
(re)produced by her peers. For Bella, this signified a need to give Harper some language to talk about her family and she noted that this language will likely change over time. She shared that she felt they needed to be ‘ahead of the questions” (T519) so that they are “equipping Harper before she gets asked the question” (T521-T523).
Bella reported that, prior to the interview, she asked Harper about whether she was still asked questions at school about her family structure:
Extract 6.3 Interview with Bella:
T189 Bella: … this morning coz you were coming I was like you know does anybody ask you anymore T190 Michelle: mmm T191 Bella: about two mums she said no nobody asks me anymore I was like oh why not and she said oh coz they all know now T192 Michelle: mmm T193 Bella: everybody knows now T194 Michelle: Yeah
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T195 Bella: … I was like so what do you say when people ask you and she said I just say that I’ve got two mums and I said what would you say if somebody said well you can’t do that you can’t have two mums you have to have T196 Michelle: Mmm T197 Bella: a mum and a dad and she said (laughs) she said I’d say that I was much cleverer than them because I didn’t need a dad (laughs) to be born T198 Michelle: Mmm T199 Bella: and I know more than them
In this extract, Bella’s report suggests that Harper had found an approach to talk about her family structure in a way that was no longer constrained by norms about family. In this example, Harper’s report that other students no longer ask about having two mums “coz they all know now” demonstrates that same-sex parented families can interrupt perceptions of family framed by the mum/dad binary, creating critical openings for possible resignification that stretch beyond this binary. It also raises that parents and children of diverse families may experience additional labour in order to be recognised in contexts where families are interpellated through the mum/dad binary.
Assumptions that each child has just one mum is another effect of the mum/dad binary working as a unified whole to represent ‘family’. Claire and Raeven, for instance, shared a narrative with regard to their child, Reef, about his teacher asking him if his ‘mum’ would be coming to parent/teacher night. It was represented that he did not know how to respond to this question because he had two mums. For Claire, the teacher’s question was positive and meaningful as it signalled to her that no one had forewarned the teacher about their family status and therefore her family was viewed as no big deal. However, I would argue this narrative also reflects the interpellation of families through the mum/dad binary, with an assumption by the teacher that all families have just one mum. Also reflecting notions of space for just
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one mother in a family, Raeven reported being misread by a member of the school community as ‘grandmother’ at a school event due to her partner, Claire, being highly visible in her mothering role within the school. Here, the mum/dad binary worked to foreclose the possibility of more than one mother and, as the position of mother appeared to have been filled by Claire, Raeven was cast into an alternative maternal family role – that of grandmother. While the mum/dad binary worked to position children as having just one mum in each of these cases, this normative binary was interrupted through disclosure. By this, I mean that the teacher in Claire’s narrative found out that Reef had two mums at the parent teacher night and, in
Raeven’s story, Raeven corrected the assumption that she was grandmother. Norms govern recognition and social intelligibility (Butler, 2004). In each of these cases, normative discourses that construct families as having a mum/dad structure were tied up with assumptions that Claire and Raeven’s family had just one mum. Through this lens, the social reality of their family was rendered invisible. As Raeven and Claire’s family structure became visible, the citational chain through which family is
(re)produced as nuclear was interrupted through an altered performance of family.
When “settled knowledge” or “knowable reality” is interrupted in this way, “the norms themselves can become rattled, display their instability and become open to resignification” (Butler, 2004, p. 27). In other words, in the doing of family with two mums, possibilities open up for new ways of thinking about family that move beyond notions of children having just one mum or just one dad.
Another way the mum/dad binary worked to construct families as having just one mum related to notions of the ‘biological’ mother as the ‘real’ mother. Averie shared that she and Jade are often asked by teachers and parents “who carried” the children in pregnancy (T403), “who’s the real mother” (T405), or less explicitly
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asked where their “kids’ hair colour” (T407) came from, demonstrating another way the mum/dad binary can work as a unified whole to signify positionality of family members. Such questions draw on the mum/dad binary with regard to Western notions of kinship relating to blood/biology. Moreover, in this line of questioning, a hierarchical binary is created between the ‘biological’ mum and the ‘Other’ mum.
This is a way in which power reinforces notions of the nuclear through binaries,
(re)producing the ‘biological’ mum as the real mother, and the ‘non-biological’ mother as the subordinate Other – the unreal. It is interesting to note, in considering how the mum/dad binary can position ‘biological’ parents as superior by casting them as ‘real’, that mums in mum/dad families are not always ‘biological’ parents.
This is the case with mum/dad families who have adopted children, those who have used donated eggs, sperm or embryos, and so on. However, the use of reproductive assisted technologies becomes invisible through assumptions which work through the heterosexual matrix, that is when families fit the male/female/mum/dad binary there is an assumption of biology. Same-sex couples become highly visible in this process and can be subject to questioning that opposite sexed parents would not. Also interesting with regard to questioning about the ‘real’ mother is that GSD couples using reproductive technologies may have one partner carry a child that was conceived through the other partner’s egg. Thus, there are many complexities, demonstrating that thinking about family through a traditional nuclear/biological lens reflects an interpellation that attempts to create an unreality that can entirely miss its mark.
The mum/dad binary was also evident across several interview narratives in relation to gendered constructions of mothers and fathers. For instance, Sam and Mia shared that they felt like the Mother’s Day and Father’s Day celebrations in Ava’s
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Prep year were “incredibly gendered” (T399) and “grossly stereotypical” (T402). It was reported that on these particular celebration days, mothers “had iced cupcakes”
(T405), “hand massages from the kids” (T405), had their nails done, and were given
“photo frames [made] with lace doilies”. Conversely, Father’s Day involved “a sausage barbecue and woodworking and paper plane throwing” (T420) and children made paper ties for fathers in preparation for the day. Thus mothers (signifying females and notions of the ‘feminine’) were cast into the role of recipients of beauty treatments, eating cupcakes and enjoying lacey material, and fathers (signifying males and notions of ‘masculinity’) were (re)produced as enjoying active outdoor pursuits and wearing ‘masculine’ business attire. In this experience, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day activities in the schooling space reproduced and generated notions of ‘mother’ and ‘father’ through conceptions of ‘femininity’ and ‘masculinity’.
Similarly, Jade shared a narrative about tennis coaching that Maddison attended at her school. She reported that the coach told children that they should “go home and get your dad to hit a ball with you” (T1058). This comment not only assumes that all children have a dad but also (re)produces males as competent sports people and, through silence, interpellates ‘females’ as non-sporty.
In each of these narratives relating to gendered constructions of parenting, the mum/dad binary is produced through a ‘femininity’/’masculinity’ lens. Discourses that position the nuclear family as normal, natural, and ideal, often draw on gender essentialist notions of a ‘natural’ binary of male/female, ‘feminine’/’masculine’.
Gender essentialism positions biological sex as causing gender, and gender as causing desire. For instance, from this perspective, someone born with a penis is categorised as male, their gender performance is expected to be ‘masculine’, and they are perceived to have a ‘natural’ sexual attraction to females. Butler
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(2007[1990]) developed the concept of the ‘heterosexual matrix’ to explain how such notions of a “stable sex expressed through a stable gender” form part of a matrix of cultural intelligibility which produces particular performances of sex, gender, sexual practice, and desire as natural and intelligible and renders others as incoherent and unintelligible within society (p. 208). Gender is produced through the heterosexual matrix, constructing notions of natural and authentic expressions of ‘femininity’ and
‘masculinity’, underpinned by a hegemonic compulsory heterosexuality (Butler,
2007 [1990], 2011 [1993]). In the case of the narratives just discussed, the mum/dad binary is (re)produced, drawing on cultural norms of the binary of ‘femininity’ and
‘masculinity’ (mum/dad; female/male; desires beauty treatments/desires outdoor pursuits; likes cupcakes/likes barbecuing; not sporty/competent sportsperson) and contributes to the performative reproduction of the heterosexual matrix.
In addition to notions of ‘femininity’ and ‘masculinity’, the mum/dad binary was also (re)produced in gendered ways through conceptualisations of gendered roles in families. Jade shared that Breezeville State School offered “Dad’s Coffee
Hours” (T344) with the principal before school. Jade explained that these coffee hours were introduced because the school noticed that the ten o’clock coffee mornings (staffed by a community liaison officer who works two days a week) were attended predominantly by female parents and there was a sense that men were not attending because they were working. In other words, this strategy attempted to encourage fathers to connect by assuming they are working and women are not.
While this strategy appeared to be grounded in notions of parent engagement, the gendered underpinnings meant that families were treated differentially. Not only did the Dad’s Coffee Hour mean that male parents had a regular, direct link with the head of the school, a link that female parents were excluded from having, but this
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setup also failed to recognise the diversity of family structures and working models in that many women also work. Census data shows that in 2016, 80,000 fathers assumed a stay-at-home role, representing almost 5% of two-parent families (Baxter,
2018). The proportion of mothers who worked was 53.4% and, further, in 61% of
“parent couples with children under 18… both parents work[ed]” (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2018d, para. 2). Despite these statistics demonstrating a variety of everchanging labour arrangements, Jade’s narrative shows that families may still be constructed through historical discourses that position fathers as workers and mothers as homemakers. Viewing family through this lens fails to recognise the diverse ways labour arrangements are taken up by families. In the case of Jade’s family, as well as other families in which there is no father, the interpellation of
“Dad’s Coffee Hour” excluded her family from participation in a school-based practice. There are implications here in terms of parent engagement.
Notions of gendered roles produced through the mum/dad binary were evident within the parent community as well. For instance, Raeven and Claire shared a narrative about a discussion with another parent from the school, Naomi, the mother of their son’s best friend. The discussion revolved around Raeven’s struggle with the behaviour of one of her children at the time. In response, Naomi asked if her son had
“some male role models” (T1359), “implying… that might be related to behavioural issues” (T1370-T1374). In other words, the implicit suggestion here was that the behaviour issues related to parenting in a two-mum family structure. In this narrative
Naomi drew on notions of complementarity of genders where mothers and fathers have specific gendered roles, ideas that underpin nuclear discourses. Similarly, Jade had reported she experienced a parent in the school asking a lot of questions about how their family functioned, such as who put the dinner on the table and so on,
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suggesting that family roles were intelligible only through the mum/dad, male/female binary. In other words, the parent was unable to conceive how families headed by two women would function, as her perception of family roles were embedded in a traditional male/female binary. In this way, Jade’s family was rendered unintelligible and exotic, as it was perceived to sit outside these gendered binaries.
Gender essentialist conceptions of male/female and ‘masculine’/’feminine’ are often used to argue a perceived superiority of traditional nuclear families based on notions of a ‘natural’ complementarity brought to childrearing by ‘opposite’ sexes.
Anti-same sex marriage discourses often draw on this notion of a natural complementarity between mothers and fathers based on gender. For instance:
Every child has a biological mother and father, but the importance of mothers and
fathers goes far beyond reproduction. Men and women bring unique gifts to the
shared task of raising their children. Mothering and fathering are distinctly
different. Only a woman can be a mother; only a man can be a father. A mother
and a father each contributes in a distinct way to the upbringing of a child.
(Australian Catholic Bishops Conference, 2015, p. 11)
Within this complementary union as constructed in texts such as above, mothers are positioned as nurturers and fathers as breadwinners and disciplinarians. Perspectives such as this, however, fail to recognise the regulation, as well as historical and cultural situatedness, of gender and the nuclear family and that these are not ‘natural’ forms but rather constructions.
Gendered constructions of family through the mum/dad binary can lead to perceptions that families with two mums or two dads are ‘missing’ a required component. In other words, a family without a mum or a dad can be perceived
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through a lens of ‘loss’. Jade shared a narrative relating to Father’s Day related activities in school:
Extract 6.4 Interview with Jade
T1310 Jade: this has come up at school a number of times teachers get confused and then they get weird and they start to think that our kids are in the same situation as kids who’ve lost their fathers so they will be teaching kids whose fathers have died or whose parents split up or something and then they will put our kids into the same category so we’ll try to talk to them T1311 Michelle: in their head do you mean T1312 Jade: mmm so we’ll try to talk to them about Father’s Day and they’ll say oh yeah we have a kid in the class whose dad died we get it and we’re like no T1313 Michelle: Ahhh T1314 Jade: you just explained that you don’t get it at all for our kids there is no grief around that T1315 Michelle: mmm T1316 Jade: there’s nothing missing there’s no gap T1317 Michelle: mmm T1318 Jade: there’s no it’s Father’s Day and I need to cry there’s no emotion around it give them free art time they’re good to go T1319 Michelle: mmm T1320 Jade: for a kid who’s lost their dad there’s a gap in the family there’s a hole in the family there’s a rupture there that they’re grieving that they’re hurting about even kids who have a dad who left when they were little or whose parents have separated T1321 Michelle: Mmm T1322 Jade: there’s often emotion around that because there’s something missing T1323 Michelle: Yeah T1324- Jade: those kids need attention at Father’s Day they need extra support… T1328 but when the teacher’s trying to put that energy into our kids we’re like there’s no problem here stop trying to create a… problem there’s no gap our kids don’t need extra help
This lens of loss draws on the mum/dad binary as a unified whole to signify family, thereby reflecting notions that an intact family must have a mum and a dad and those without a dad are perceived as ‘missing’ something. In this way, diverse families are
(re)produced as ‘less than’ nuclear formations.
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There are many ways the mum/dad binary can work as a unified whole to signify family in schools, thereby erasing or suppressing a variety of ways of doing family. Viewing family through mum/dad, female/male, ‘feminine’/’masculine’ binaries (re)produces notions of the nuclear family as normal and natural. While interpellation attempts to bring reality into being, it often misses its mark, and the many ways the mum/dad binary attempts to hail families do not describe the diverse family structures and ways of doing family that are evident in schools. I have argued that the complexities of family structures are not encompassed by viewing families through the mum/dad binary and that many families would benefit from schools drawing on a lens beyond this binary with regards to how they conceptualise family.
Given the importance of parent and family engagement to student outcomes and wellbeing (Epstein, 2011; OECD, 2011), it is essential that schools are able to recognise family in all its diverse forms. In the next subsection, I shift beyond the mum/dad binary to consider attempts at greater recognition within schooling contexts through the use of the parent one/parent two binary.
One plus one equals two: Producing families through the parent one/parent two binary. In the previous subsection, I discussed ways in which the mum/dad binary can work as a unified whole to erase or suppress family diversity. In contrast to the interpellation of family through the use of ‘mum/dad’ binary language, Timothy offered a narrative in which there was a shift away from mum/dad to parent one/parent two language in an apparent attempt to be inclusive of diverse families.
This provides somewhat of a counter narrative to mum/dad language and demonstrates some recognition of family diversity, however there remain limitations within this framework in relation to recognising families with diverse family structures and conceptions of family.
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When Timothy transitioned gender to male, two of his children were attending primary school. Timothy’s ex-husband and co-parent is a cisgendered male and
Timothy explained that the children “not only [had] a parent who was transgender but from the point of view of other people progressively more and more they [had] two dads” (T54). As often occurs in schools, some parents in the class of one of
Timothy’s children created a list containing contact details for all parents and this was shared amongst all families. Timothy explained that this list did not use mum/dad language, rather it used parent one/parent two:
Extract 6.6 Interview with Timothy
T747 Timothy: … in primary school you get the contact sheets of the parents’ details T748 Michelle: Yeah T749 Timothy: and it says parent one and parent two or it says for both parents it’s not mum and dad T750 Michelle: ahh yes T751 Timothy: now I don’t remember for sure I’ve got a feeling it used to be mum and dad and I think they have actually changed it T752 Michelle: Okay T753 Timothy: So T754 Michelle: do you think at the time of your transition T755 Timothy: well you see the parents who do that sort of thing I tend to know them so that helps and I also know the sort of people they are T756 Michelle: yeah T757 Timothy: and they’re very open minded people T758 Michelle: yeah good T759 Timothy: I don’t recall it was exactly anything to do with me because they wouldn’t just do it on the one person they’d be thinking about the other T760 Michelle: yeah T761 Timothy: people too but T762 Michelle: yeah T763 Timothy: that was very very nice and it’s very T764 Michelle: mmm T765 Timothy: affirming T766 Michelle: mmm would be T767 Timothy: and if they didn’t I would have mentioned something anyway
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It is important to note here that there can be a variety of interpretations by different people of solutions generated in response to granting recognition of diversity. In this short narrative about language, Timothy shared that the use of parent one/parent two language on the contact list was “very, very nice” and “very affirming” (T763 –
T765). This suggests that in moving away from the mum/dad binary to parent one/parent two (in which families are interpellated as having two parents of non- specific gender), there is a sense of visibility and intelligibility in this form of labelling as it was inclusive of Timothy’s family structure. In hailing parents as parent one/parent two, same-sex parented families and other two-parented forms of family were no longer erased. The change was an attempt to move recognition of family structure beyond a heteronormative framing.
In hailing families in a non-gendered, but two-parented way, however, the structure continued in binary form and so while there appears to be some gain here, the representation of families in this way is also constraining. For instance, this binary could work hierarchically to set one parent in the duality as in charge (parent one) and the other as secondary (parent two). Furthermore, the binary works as a unified whole to produce all families as two-parented, thereby erasing or suppressing diverse forms of family that do not have two parents. This impacts on a variety of families, including those outside of GSD structures. Further, part of the workings of power with regard to nuclear discourses has been the positioning of nuclear families within Western discourses as superior and a ‘natural’ outcome of progress, thereby positioning cultures where extended families are integral to the functioning of the family as inferior (Carrington, 2002). Similarly, some families may have an extended view of family, where family is not just represented by two parents and their children
(Skattebol & Ferfolja, 2007) and, as such, viewing families through a binary lens of
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parent one/parent two erases possibilities of diverse constructions of family such as this. Figure 6.6 represents the many diverse approaches to family that may be erased or suppressed through the parent one/parent two binary working as a unified whole to interpellate family as two parented.
Figure 6.6 The interpellation of families through the Parent one/Parent two binary recognises two parent same-sex families, however erases many other diverse ways of doing family.
Shifting beyond language, constituting families as two-parented in school systems, policy and practice can create inequities for families who do not reflect this structure. Emily and Alexa, for instance, talked about their experience with systems that construct families as two parented, specifically with regard to contact points and parent-teacher interviews. Emily and Alexa, a same-sex couple, parented Elijah and
Finn together in a step-parenting situation. Emily shared custody of the children with her ex-husband and the children lived between the two houses. The children attended
Stormville School, a non-government school, during their primary school years, and had recently shifted to Whoville High, a government school.
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Emily and Alexa reflected during the interview on the ways in which schooling systems had positioned their family, which had more than two parenting figures.
They shared that at both Stormville School and Whoville High, only two people were able to be listed in data systems as contact points. They explained that at Stormville
School there were:
Extract 6.7 Interview with Emily and Alexa
T1040 Emily: only two emails on the email list T1041- Alexa: mmm… same with state schools in that you’ve only got a primary T1043 parent and a secondary parent T1044 Emily: secondary parent T1045 Alexa: like all schools as far as I know systems work the same in many relationships the primary parent will only get emails around behaviour or discipline issues but when you’ve only got two parents on the list like T1046 Michelle: mmm T1047 Alexa: in two monogamous relationships a potential two extra parents that will never get contact or T1048 Michelle: mmm T1049 Emily: yeah you rely on that T1050 Alexa: so at the moment like if I have anything to do with the kids’ schooling it’s coz Emily forwards on every single email T1051 Michelle: yeah T1052 Alexa: so whether that’s like year nine geography homework which is all overdue T1053 Emily: (chuckles) T1054 Alexa: and da da da school kids will be staying back till this day like a small thing but if I know what happened and then I’m alone with Finn that night I know T1055 Michelle: yeah T1056 Alexa: he’s gonna behave strangely because he was disciplined T1057 Michelle: yeah T1058 Alexa: but then bigger stuff around parent/carer nights or something like that I rely on Emily forwarding me everything which can take a lot to remember because there can be a lot of emails
The ways in which systems produce families in particular ways as two parent families is based on biological structuring. Such structures fail to recognise diversity in families that value more than two persons as parent or carers in a child’s life. In
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this case, family members beyond those who are listed as ‘primary’ and ‘secondary’ parents within data management systems are not privy to information that will assist them in supporting the child, unless it is passed on by one of the two listed parents.
Further, in the binary of primary parent and secondary parent, the primary parent is positioned as the receiver of information, creating a hierarchy of parent figures.
Alexa and Emily also reported that Stormville School only offered two-person parent-teacher interviews, thereby erasing and suppressing families that existed beyond the binary. Once again, this construction of family through a two-parent lens foregrounds biological discourses, as it assumes that only the biological mother and father are interested in the child – not four adults or more. If schools can shift outside of thinking about families and parenting through binaries, this removes some of the burden from parents and it is possible that some of these practices which constrain diverse families might be interrupted. Alexa commented on these systemic constraints, offering thoughts about what she would prefer to see happen in schools so that the burden of recognition is not placed on the shoulders of those to whom recognition is denied:
Extract 6.8 Interview with Emily and Alexa
T1127 Alexa: the standard system the status quo is heteronormative T1128 Michelle: yeah T1129 Alexa: cisnormative so T1130 Michelle: yeah T1131 Alexa: we’re required to challenge that T1132 Emily: yep that’s just the general way T1133 Alexa: which is the thing if it could just be the opposite way round T1134 Michelle: what’s that T1135 Alexa: if it could be the opposite way round where we’re not required to change the status quo but there’s more of like a canvas that T1136 Michelle: mmm T1137 Alexa: we walk into and then we set what we need
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T1138 Michelle: yes T1139 Alexa: what healthy parenting looks like to us and then the school T1140 Michelle: mmm T1141 Alexa: can make that work like it’s not that hard and our situation like say we were like man woman gendered our situation is not that different to many other step parenting [situations] T1142 Michelle: mmm T1143- Alexa: like there’s a lot of overlaps here with diverse families generally… T1163 like the number of students in split parent households… or like multiple homes situations… to think that they have one diary and one hat and they have one laptop… and they need to take them between all these houses and then they have you know parent teacher nights and they have report cards and they have forms that are signed for consent like… even having vaccinations and like whoever gets the vaccination form signs it so it’s like… who knows what vaccinations the kids are getting at school.. coz their dad’s signing it he wouldn’t communicate that with us… because we don’t have that sort of relationship at all it would be great but it doesn’t happen so it’s like jackpot if you get the vaccination form coz then we’ve got some say… over how they’re vaccinated T1164 Michelle: yeah and report cards too do they have one report card that comes home T1165 Alexa: electronic T1166 Emily: it’s by email T1167 Alexa: yeah T1168 Emily; but again it’s only those two email addresses
Here, Alexa reflects on many of the ways that the construction of families as two- parented can create constraints for diverse families. There is a sense here that families shouldn’t have to be the ones changing the school’s status quo, rather schools need to be set up to recognise and cater to the reality of family diversity. In other words, if schools can step outside of the mum/dad or parent one/parent two binary constructions of family and consider that families are much more diverse than these binaries represent, there may be opportunities for school/family relations to accommodate and cater to a wider variety of needs. An approach which recognises diversity and provides opportunities for parents to have a say in the ways schools engage with families interrupts the hierarchical binary of school/parent and reflects
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authentic parent engagement (Pushor, 2010, 2012, 2015, 2019; Vincent, 2000, 2013
[1996]).
Beyond the mum/dad binary: Recognising diverse families. While the above discussion has provided some context around ways in which families can be interpellated as nuclear or two-parented through binary constructions in language, policies, practices, and assumptions, I now provide a counter narrative relating to parenting labels. While several parents (Jade and Averie; Timothy) discussed approaching schools about their family’s naming practices, Willow and
Angie are the only parents who spoke about schools being proactive in this area.
Willow shared:
Extract 6.9 Interview with Angie and Willow
T1123 Willow: …I have been asked like what do the boys what does Lucas call us at T1124 Michelle: mmm T1125 Willow: at school you know by the teacher or by you know T1126 Michelle: mmm T1127 Willow: the master teacher and that sort of thing so they’re very yeah they wanna get it right T1128 Michelle: yeah T1129- Angie: yeah they do wanna get it right… I do think it’s quite funny because T1146 a couple of the kids now call me Mama Willow T1147 Michelle: ahhh T1148 Willow: because that’s what Lucas calls me so that’s actually what T1149 Michelle: that’s really sweet T1150 Willow: what a lot of the kids call me T1151 Michelle: yeah that’s sweet T1152 Angie: (chuckles) T1153 Willow: so that’s pretty funny T1154 Angie: yeah it is pretty funny
This narrative provides an example of a school being proactive as they approached
Angie and Willow regarding naming practices. The couple were not interpellated through the mum/dad binary, creating visibility around their family structure. It is not
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uncommon for GSD parented families to take up naming practices which operate outside of the mum/dad binary, and approaching families about their naming practices reflects recognition of diverse family forms. Willow does also intimate however, that while the school tried to do the right thing in this case, there were also practices, such as approaches to Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, that did not, in her view, reflect recognition of family diversity. This is perhaps representative of the pervasiveness of nuclear discourses which draw on the mum/dad binary. With regard to diverse naming practices, Willow noted that some of Lucas’ classmates also used inclusive language normalised within the school, calling her Mama Willow. The interruption to the production of families as nuclear enabled new language norms to be established. This reflects Butler’s (2005) assertion that norms change, that “the normative horizon within which I see the other, or, indeed, within which the other sees and listens and knows and recognises is… subject to a critical opening” (p. 24).
For Butler, this shift occurs through a desire to recognise the other, a desire which compels a willingness to stand in critical relation to norms when such norms are troubled. Within these critical openings, it is possible to step beyond mum/dad and parent one/parent two binaries, opening possibilities for recognition of GSD families in schooling contexts.
There are many ways of doing family, and given that interpellation forms part of subjection, deconstructing the use of the mum/dad binary and how it works as a unified whole to represent family has been important in considering the ways in which this binary works performatively to (re)produce particular ideas about family within schooling contexts. This analysis showed that in drawing on the mum/dad binary, families in schools are produced as having a mum and dad and as comprising of just one mum and one dad. Further, through the mum/dad binary, mothers can be
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(re)produced in gendered ways. Mothers can be (re)produced as innately ‘feminine’ and fathers as innately ‘masculine’, and each constructed as having particular gendered roles and gendered labels. These productions of family through the mum/dad binary fail to recognise the diversity of family that exists in Australian society and schools. Although the non-gendered parent one/parent two binary label challenges nuclear constructions of family, this two-parented view continues to place boundaries around what is considered to be a recognisable and intelligible form of family. The parent one/parent two binary also has the potential to erase and/or suppresses the diversity of families which navigate schooling contexts.
In engaging parents and families, it is important that schools recognise the diversity of families that may operate within their bounds. When families are produced through binary lenses of mum/dad, female/male, ‘feminine’/’masculine’ or even parent one/parent two, families are produced in particular, normative ways that may impact on GSD families’ sense of recognition and belonging. Within existing literature, practices and approaches in schools such as issuing school forms with mother/father fields, activities such as family trees, and Mother’s Day and Father’s
Day celebrations can be problematic for GSD parented families as they can fail to recognise family diversity (Cloughessy & Waniganayake, 2014; Goldberg, 2014;
Kosciw & Diaz, 2008). This chapter has attempted to theoretically unpack the ways in which binaries work through language, systems, policy, and practices within school contexts to produce particular forms of family as recognisable, thereby giving further insight into discursive constructions of family and the workings of power.
Understanding the ways in which these binaries work to discursively produce
‘family’ provides a critical opening for schools to consider how they might interrupt
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these binaries in order to allow for greater recognition of family diversity as they engage with parents and families within their contexts.
Conclusion
This chapter drew on the concept of binaries to consider how the mum/dad binary produces families as ‘nuclear’ within schooling contexts. In my analysis, I drew on theoretical ideas about the binary as a unified whole and how this binary works to suppress and erase forms which fit outside of the binary. When families are interpellated in schools through the mum/dad, female/male, ‘feminine’/’masculine’ binary, alternate ways of doing family (and gender and sexuality) are erased and suppressed. While solutions such as a parent one/parent two binary lens might provide an alternative to mum/dad interpellations, many family forms are still excluded through this binary. Although it is possible to shift beyond binary thinking, normative discourses are pervasive and the mum/dad binary can continue to attempt to hail families who do not fit this structure, even when the binary has been troubled.
Given that mum/dad and parent one/parent two binaries erase and suppress diverse forms of family, it is important that schools think outside of these binaries in order to consider families as they exist in their diverse forms. The analysis detailed in this chapter has foregrounded that normative discourses of family are performatively
(re)produced through the reiteration of binaries in schools, even though the reality of doing family is much more diverse. GSD families navigating schools interrupt these norms and thereby create spaces for possible resignification. There are resistances to family norms in this process, however the tenacious effects of these discourses can also be seen.
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I shift now to thinking through the effects of these discourses, by considering
GSD parent experiences of visibility, invisibility, and hypervisibility within schooling contexts.
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Chapter 7: “We’re So Outside Normal, We’ve Become Normal”:
Examining the Nuances of the Visibility Continuum
So far, the thesis has examined discursive constructions of GSD parented families within broader society and schooling contexts through a queer theoretical lens. In Chapter 5, I examined discourses operating broadly within media, politics, and society which (re)produce GSD parents, families and identities as unintelligible, unrecognisable and ‘less than’ human. This analysis provided insight into some of the discourses which deny recognition to GSD parented families. As schools do not operate within a social vacuum, normative ideas about family also circulate in schools, influencing school practices and the experiences of GSD parents within these spaces. In Chapter 6, I continued my analytic work, drawing on the concept of binaries to unpack some of the ways in which ‘family’ is reproduced and generated in schooling contexts. Families are often interpellated and (re)produced as nuclear through the mum/dad binary within schooling contexts, despite a multitude of family formations operating in society. Parent one/parent two interpellations also fail to recognise diversity, as they create boundaries around conceptions of family, producing them as two-parented. These (re)productions contribute to the performativity of norms that construct nuclear families as normal and natural, thereby foreclosing possibility and failing to recognise the diversity of families which exist within schools. This is an important consideration as recognition forms a site of power through which subjects fitting with prevailing social norms experience greater privileges, rights and protections (Butler, 2004).
In this chapter I move to draw the discussion inward, a move from focusing on the production of the family within broader societal and schooling contexts, to
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examining more closely the experiences of GSD parents in relation to visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility (Brighente, 2007; Lewis & Simpson, 2012; Roberts,
Roberts, O’Neill, & Blake-Beard, 2008). This is a logical progression as Butler’s
(1995b, 2004, 2005) conceptions of recognition, intelligibility, and norms, used thus far in the thesis, are useful in thinking through the visibility continuum. Further, considering GSD parent experiences in relation to the visibility continuum assists in examining the production of power, highlighting how particular families may experience greater recognition and privilege in schools.
I begin this chapter with an introduction to the concepts of visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility, and consider connections to Butler’s theorisations of recognition, intelligibility and norms in order to ground the chapter within theory.
Then, drawing on narratives from three participant interviews, I analyse the data to discuss some of the ways in which visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility operate within schools, as well as implications for GSD parented families. Parents participating in this study shared a variety of experiences along the visibility continuum, that is, each interview included narratives reflecting concepts of visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility. In focusing on three participant interviews and therefore considering narratives in conjunction with other stories from the same interview, the data is contextualised and this helps to demonstrate some of the complexities experienced by GSD parents. I chose to consider narratives within context in order to provide a fuller picture of the nuances of navigating the borders of visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility, and to acknowledge the importance of context. This decision is underpinned by a poststructural approach to narrative inquiry (Blumenreich, 2004), which warns against oversimplifying participant representations and experiences.
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Concepts of Visibility, Invisibility and Hypervisibility
Visibility denotes “the extent to which an individual is fully regarded and recognised by others” (Settles, Buchanan, & Dotson, 2019, p. 63). This understanding of visibility is consistent with Butler’s (2005) conception of intelligibility, that is being seen, heard and understood as a valid social subject.
Given that visibility aligns with notions of intelligibility, and Butler (2004) contends intelligibility is an effect of recognition, it is reasonable to consider that visibility and recognition are also interconnected. Indeed, Brighente (2007) links visibility with recognition claiming that “recognition is a form of social visibility” (p. 329). Further, she contends that, “for racial and sexual minorities, being invisible means being deprived of recognition” (p. 329). Recognition is underpinned by social norms and imbued with power, contributing to the production of intelligible and unintelligible subjects (Butler, 2004). Butler (2004) claims a desire for recognition underpins one’s personhood. The assertion then, is that persons also desire visibility, that is, being recognised as valid and intelligible social subjects.
The norms which underpin visibility/intelligibility govern which human lives are considered valuable, recognisable, and sustainable, and actively confer reality through repetition (Butler, 2004). Examples of the repetitive (re)production of intelligible families as nuclear can be seen in the repeated speech acts (verbal and written) and schooling practices which produce families through a binary mum/dad lens, as described earlier. Butler’s (2007 [1990], 2011 [1993]) theory of performativity provides a useful frame for considering this process. The theory contends that gender and sexuality norms are an effect of repetitions of speech and bodily acts performed within, and constrained by, regulatory frameworks (Butler,
2007 [1990], 2011 [1993]). These repetitive acts create chains of signification that
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conceal the constructedness of norms, causing them to appear as natural (Butler,
2007 [1990], 2011 [1993]). As a result of the concealment process, power and privilege are preserved and remain invisible (Lewis & Simpson, 2012). The particular chains of signification I refer to here are those that (re)produce cisnormative, heteronormative and fixed binary notions of sex, gender and desire as natural and normal (Butler, 2007 [1990]). In this process, which is represented by
Butler’s conception of the heterosexual matrix, those who do ‘male’ and ‘female’ in accordance with dominant norms experience validity and intelligibility (visibility) as subjects, and those falling outside such fixed, binary norms are (re)produced as invalid and unintelligible (Butler, 2007 [1990]). Similarly, those who do family in traditional nuclear ways fit within normative frameworks and those who do not may find they are not recognised as valid and intelligible subjects.
The workings of visibility in relationship to norms are complex and multifaceted. There are consequences for those who are not recognised as valid and intelligible in that entitlement to rights, and inclusion in the “participatory sphere of political deliberation”, are tied up with recognition (Butler, 2004, p. 2). However, normative horizons change, and therefore so do conceptions of the recognisably human. For instance, while heteronormative and cisnormative discourses may erase
GSD parented families within institutional contexts such as schools, the
(re)production of homonormative discourses which produce stable, monogamous, same-sex couples as intelligible can mean that same-sex parented families may be produced as intelligible through altered norms (Carlile & Paechter, 2018).
Homonormative discourses render GSD families that do not fit within these normative frameworks as unintelligible, demonstrating the complex workings of
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visibility (Carlile & Paechter, 2018; Pallotta-Chiarolli, 2010). This means that visibility and its associated privileges do not occur in a straightforward way.
Just as visibility is associated with Butler’s (2004) concept of intelligibility, invisibility can be considered through the lens of unintelligibility. Unintelligibility refers to a subject who is not recognisable according to existing social norms, and is therefore viewed as impossible, invalid, or less than human (Butler, 2004). For
Brighente (2007), such a deprivation of recognition represents invisibility of the subject. Knowledge and representation of GSD persons and families are often missing in schools, and this represents a form of invisibility (Carlile & Paechter,
2018; Kosciw & Diaz, 2008; Ullman & Ferfolja, 2016). Further, as Ferfolja (2007a) points out, heterosexist and heteronormative – and I would add cisnormative – discourses are often pervasive in schools and are “reinforced through both overt and covert practices of invisibility and silencing” (p. 147). These discourses produce heterosexuality and cisgendered bodies as natural and normal, creating invisibility around GSD identities and families.
Opposition to visibility and inclusion of diverse genders and sexualities in schools, in part relates to the construction of the child as ‘innocent’ and not ready for sexual knowledge (Robinson, 2008, 2013). In response to this positioning, there is an expectation that schools be asexual environments and reflect normative ideas about gender, particularly in early-childhood and primary sectors (Robinson, 2008, 2013;
Thompson, 2019). Ideologies of childhood-as-innocence cast knowledges about diverse genders and sexualities as dangerous, predatory and coercive and construct children as needing protection from such concepts (Epstein et al., 2003; Law, 2017;
Robinson, 2008, 2013; Thompson, 2018, 2019; Ward, 2018). GSD parented families, then, represent a disruption, a threat to these discourses of silence and erasure as
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even through their presence they interrupt the discursive invisibility of gender and sexual diversity in schools (Carlile & Paechter, 2018).
In addition to visibility and invisibility, hypervisibility forms part of the visibility continuum. Like invisibility, hypervisibility can be considered through the lens of unintelligibility. Hypervisibility draws on the concept of the ‘marked body’, in the sense that one experiences greater surveillance and scrutiny due to being marked as different from the norm (Settles, Buchanan, & Dotson, 2019). Thus, the concept of hypervisibility is predicated on “perceived difference, which is usually interpreted as deviance [and] highlights the difference between being seen and affirmed from the discomfort that comes from being watched and judged” (Kvasny
& Payton, 2018, p. 798). Notions of deviance are produced through stereotypes associated with the marked body (Buchanan & Settles, 2019; Kvasny & Payton,
2018). Hypervisibility is not always considered through a lens of deviance. For instance, being called on as spokesperson to speak on behalf of an entire group is also representative of hypervisibility (Feingold & Souza, 2013; Harris & Nicolazzo,
2017). As a concept then, hypervisibility represents an Othering process that happens when GSD parented families are positioned in highly visible ways as different to
‘normal’ families (Skattebol & Ferfolja, 2007). According to Lewis and Simpson
(2012), when normative practices and discourses are challenged overtly or subversively, those who fall outside of dominant norms can experience hypervisibility. This can occur even through their presence. So drawing on Butler
(2004), when a subject performs alternate to the norm by engaging in alternate reiterations of the citational chain, existing social norms can be interrupted. Such interruptions render those subjects who exist outside of dominant discursive frames exposed, creating a potential heightened visibility (Lewis & Simpson, 2012). Power
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functions through hypervisibility, in that this heightened visibility often works to normalise and naturalise dominant norms and maintain privilege (Dotson, 2017 ).
There is a paradox or double-bind with regard to visibility. Those who are denied recognition according to the normative horizon are often rendered invisible and excluded within social, public, political and institutional realms, yet at the same time experience a borderland in which they are subject to heightened visibility (Filax,
2007; Harris & Nicolazzo, 2017; Roberts et al., 2008; Steinbugler, 2005; Thompson
& Thompson, 2008). Roberts et al. (2008) conceptualise this double-bind as follows:
At one end of the visibility continuum, minorities face potential exclusion from
the dominant group that renders them invisible in majority contexts. At the other
end, minorities are subjected to heightened scrutiny, or hypervisibility, due to
their distinctiveness from the dominant or majority group, which makes their
attributes and behaviours more salient. (p. 428)
In other words, those who fall outside of dominant norms will have to navigate both invisibility and hypervisibility, each of which work to maintain social boundaries, social hierarchies and privilege (Buchanan & Settles, 2019). In experiencing the tensions and double-bind of invisibility and hypervisibility, people may strategically manage their visibility in order to navigate contexts (Blake-Beard & Roberts, 2004;
Settles et al., 2019). This double-bind is evident within numerous narratives analysed within this chapter.
Within the interviews for this project, all participants shared experiences of the visibility continuum. In other words, all GSD parents in this study reported having experienced visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility, each to a lesser or greater degree, as they navigated their child/ren’s schooling environments. This reflects the claim by Settles, Buchanan, and Dotson (2019) that:
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Visibility, hypervisibility, and invisibility are not mutually exclusive. Rather,
individuals could be visible in one context and invisible in another, or they might
be simultaneously hypervisible as outsiders and invisible with regard to having
authority. (p. 63)
With this in mind, it is important to understand the experiences of GSD parents in relation to visibility, invisibility, and hypervisibility and how power works through the visibility continuum to position particular parents and families as intelligible and recognisable in schools. This is important to consider as entitlements to rights, and participation in political and decision-making processes, are tied up with intelligibility and recognition (Butler, 2004).
I now shift to examining the narratives of three participants in relation to the visibility continuum. I begin by examining some of the narratives co-constructed with Raeven and Claire in relation to visibility and invisibility. I juxtapose these narratives of visibility and invisibility in order to better understand ways in which discursive norms can continue to protrude and constrain, even in spaces where there is recognition. This section draws on concepts of heteronormativity, discourses of childhood-as-innocence, and censorship/exclusion in order to consider how invisibility and silences about gender and sexual diversity can be produced in schools. Next, I shift to discussing some of the narratives shared by Sam and Mia relating to Sam’s gender transition which occurred while the family was engaged with Ava’s primary school. This section of the chapter draws on the concept of the
‘marked’ body to consider experiences of hypervisibility and invisibility and provides insight into some of the nuances of the visibility continuum. Last, I consider
Jade’s stories in relation to labour as it needs to be expended by GSD parents to manage visibility as they navigate the borderlands of invisibility and hypervisibility.
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In doing this I seek to provide insight into the kind of work GSD families may need to do to be recognised in schools and again I am interested in implications for families. Each of these subsections provides insight into some of the complex ways visibility, invisibility, and hypervisibility interact for GSD parents as they navigate their children’s schools.
Participant narratives within the current study demonstrated there are many tensions between visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility which GSD parents experience as they navigate schools. The analysis ahead examines some of these experiences and tensions.
Subjection Through Foreclosure and Exclusion: Examining Censorship and Invisibility
In subjection, the human is differentially produced as recognition is conferred and withdrawn in accordance with prevailing social norms (Butler, 2004, 2005).
Moreover, subjection works “through exclusion, that is, through the creation of a domain of deauthorised subjects, presubjects, figures of abjection, [and] populations erased from view” (Butler, 1995a, p. 47). Censorship forms part of this differential production of the human in which particular ways of being are foreclosed as intelligible ways of being. In this subsection, I examine narratives of same-sex parents, Claire and Raeven. I begin by discussing their experiences of visibility and juxtapose these against two narratives reflecting invisibility through censorship. The point is to demonstrate some of the complexities for GSD parents as they navigate schools, reflecting that “visibility, hypervisibility, and invisibility are not mutually exclusive” (Settles, Buchanan, & Dotson, 2019, p. 69). The discussion provides insight into how implicit and explicit censorship can work to create invisibility for
GSD parented families in schools.
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Experiencing visibility within the schooling context. Raeven and Claire expressed a sense of visibility and acceptance with regard to their family structure in the school they attended. They described their time as parents at Sunshine State School positively. There was a sense that their relationship and same-sex parented family structure were visible, acknowledged, and accepted within the school environment and they expressed feelings of belonging. As a stay- at-home parent, Claire had volunteered extensively within the school space and, as such, the couple’s narratives position Claire as being quite woven into the school fabric. Raeven stated in the interview that a big part of their “positive experience”
(T1652) in the school was “the fact that Claire [was] so active” (T1652), saying that
“they love Claire” (T1654). Claire’s narratives suggested a strong relationship with the principal and opportunities to participate actively in school governance. In a particular volunteer role within the school, Clare had been on the panel that interviewed potential school chaplains and was able to put forward a question about same-sex parented families20. In addition to Claire’s active involvement in the school, Raeven also attributed their positive experience, in part, to Claire “being very out and proud” (T1663). Raeven was also involved in the school as a part of the active parent group and she expressed a sense of belonging, although as a parent who was employed she was not able to have the same physical presence in the school as
Claire managed to achieve.
20 This experience reflects Vincent’s (2000, 2013 [1996]) conception of parents as citizens/ participants in their children’s education. Vincent suggests parents can be positioned in four ways by schools: (i) independent; (ii) partner/supporter/learner; (iii) consumer, and; (iv) citizen/participant. Vincent (2000) argues that the first three positions provide little room for parent agency. The role of parent as citizen/participant (Vincent, 2000; 2013 [1996]) aligns best with conceptions of authentic parent engagement discussed in Chapter 2, as this role positions parents as partners in their children’s education at individual, class and school levels. This role involves parents in governance of the school in authentic ways, as well as the education of their own child. Vincent (2000) acknowledges that some groups and individuals may be disadvantaged “in terms of the resources they possess” with regard to this form of partnership and thus some parents may experience greater challenges engaging in this role and being heard within schooling spaces.
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The couple offered several narratives that included examples of visibility, that is, being seen, heard and understood as valid social subjects, with regard to their family structure in the school space. One example is provided below:
Extract 7.1 Interview with Claire and Raeven
T270 Claire: … last year in Reef’s class there were three same-sex couples T271 Michelle: oh okay oh wow T272 Claire: it was really cool because what the teacher did was they put the you know the every child’s going to have a little pigeonhole thing and they put the name of the child T273 Michelle: okay T274 Claire: and then the name of the parents underneath T275 Michelle: great T276- Claire: and so it would look you know Hannah and Penelope… but the other T287 couple aren’t actually out so it was just Julia on her own… they’re more out now but I remember Julia said to me T288 Michelle: yes T289 Claire: she said she was really pleased when she got there and she looked at the names she saw that there were two same-sex couples T290 Michelle: ahhh T291 Claire: she felt much more T292 Raeven: ahh did she say that T293 Claire: yeah she said it’s really cool ‘cause T294 Raeven: ahh okay T295 Claire: and like the teacher’s got no issue at all T296 Michelle: yeah T297 Claire: and we got mother’s day we got two pictures T298 Michelle: oh T299 Raeven: yeah T300 Claire: one for each mum T301 Raeven: yeah T302 Michelle: great T303 Claire: and when it’s Father’s Day they say like who’s coming instead of you know Dad so T304 Michelle: okay yeah so that feels inclusive then T305 Claire: oh completely yeah
This segment of the interview provides several examples of visibility within the school context. For Father’s Day and Mother’s Day, there was a sense that the school acknowledged the diversity existing within family structures, ensuring both Claire and Raeven received pictures on Mother’s Day and approaching them regarding
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options for Father’s Day. These actions demonstrate recognition of families beyond the mum/dad binary and produce Claire and Raeven’s family as intelligible within the school space. Furthermore, Claire appeared to experience a sense of visibility within a Prep classroom where children’s pigeonholes were labelled with parents’ names. Claire’s reporting reflected an understanding of this labelling as meaning that the teacher had “no issue at all” (T295) with sexual diversity and same-sex parented families.
With their family structure not being hidden away, there was a sense of visibility for Claire, perhaps also reflecting her approach of being “out and proud”
(T235). The pigeonhole labels interrupted the heteronormative (re)production of families as heterosexual and/or two parented as it also reflected same-sex parented families and single parent families. It should be noted, however, that while this was a positive experience for Claire and Raeven, such an approach has the potential to create a sense of hypervisibility for some diverse parents. Skattebol and Ferfolja
(2007) note that “issues of visibility and invisibility are complex in lesbian and gay communities because visibility is both liberating and threatening” (p. 13). The authors contend that in particular contexts, recognition of one’s sexual orientation can be risky. Thus, although this experience was positive for Claire given her outness, educators need to be aware that this is a complex space.
Invisibility through implicit and explicit censorship Although Claire and Raeven appeared to experience a sense of visibility on the most part within the school context, there were some narratives told within the interview that reflected concepts of invisibility. The focus of this subsection is to examine narratives relating to invisibility through implicit and explicit censorship.
Within these narratives it is possible to see how subjectivity works through
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foreclosure (Butler, 1995a) and how this creates invisibility. Further, these narratives show that even in spaces where GSD parented families experience a sense of visibility, recognition and belonging, this can also be juxtaposed with experiences of being positioned as unintelligible. The first narrative discussed here, which explores implicit censorship, unfolded after talking through many narratives of visibility within the interview. I asked if there had been any negatives with regard to their experiences as same-sex parents in the school and Raeven responded:
Extract 7.2 Interview with Claire and Raeven
T684 Raeven: there are still negatives in the sense that I think the schools and the way kids are taught still operates around a nuclear T685 Michelle: okay T686- Raeven: heterosexual family and there are things like for example… we have T712 known donor siblings.. I imagine that if there was a forum where perhaps [the children] were asked to talk about their family and T713 Michelle: mmm T714 Raeven: they included that T715 Michelle: mmm T716 Raeven: the school would probably the teacher would really baulk at that T717 Michelle: mmm T718 Raeven: you know so it’s okay to a certain degree T719 Michelle: mmm T720 Raeven: but I think they’d get very nervous around there being any discussion in the classroom about T721 Michelle: okay T722 Raeven: that kind of thing I think T723 Claire: I think that’s true T724 Raeven: I mean we haven’t really tested it
In Extract 7.2, Raeven expresses a view that “the way kids are taught still operates around a nuclear heterosexual family” (T684-T686). She refers to norms about family and a sense that pedagogy and curriculum in schools are grounded in a particular view of family intelligibility which draws on discourses of the heterosexual nuclear form. A procreative view of sex grounded in the heterosexual matrix underpins this family model, based on biological mother, father, and siblings living together in the same household, or even in separate households where parents
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have separated. This view of family fails to recognise that parents of same-sex parented families may use donor sperm to conceive. Those who use anonymous donor sperm could have a large number of known and unknown diblings21. Similarly, those who use known donor sperm may also have diblings. Raeven and Claire are in contact with some other families who have used the same anonymous donor to conceive, and as such their children have some known diblings. In relation to intelligibility of their family structure within the institution of schooling, Raeven states in extract 7.2 that “it’s okay to a certain degree but I think they’d get very nervous around there being any discussion in the classroom about that kind of thing”
(T718-T722). I read this as suggesting that while their two-mum family structure is acknowledged and accepted within the school context, they perceive there are still aspects of unintelligibility about their family with regard to dominant norms.
This extract is suggestive of visibility with limits. There is a sense for both
Claire and Raeven that if a school activity led to their children talking about their diblings, there might be concern about this within the school or on the part of teachers. While they state they “haven’t tested it” both parents agree that this aspect of their family structure may pose a problem for schools, suggesting a sense of
21 ‘Diblings’ is a colloquial term referring to ‘donor siblings’, that is, siblings who are biologically related because they are conceived using the same donor sperm. It is not uncommon for children of same-sex parents conceived through an IVF clinic, which is notably more accessible to those who are middle- or upper-class due to the high costs, to be conceived through anonymous donor sperm (although there are also parents who attend IVF clinics and use known donor sperm). The number of potential diblings conceived through anonymous donor sperm may depend on the origin of the sperm. Australian IVF clinics commonly purchase sperm from the US and also access sperm on an altruistic basis, that is, the donor receives no monetary compensation, from donors within Australia. Due to differing legislation across countries, the number of potential diblings differs depending upon the origin of the sperm. Sperm from the US may be used to conceive children in up to fifty families world-wide, meaning that children who are conceived through anonymous donor sperm could potentially have at least 49 diblings internationally. Sperm collected from Australian donors is allocated to a smaller number of families, however the amount differs from state to state. In Queensland, there is no official process for families to connect with diblings who have been conceived using the same donor sperm, however, some families use unofficial channels such as social networking sites to locate donor-sibling-networks using the donor’s unique code to recognise each other.
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‘unspeakability’ about aspects of their family structure within the school domain.
Butler (1997a) notes that in becoming a subject, one is governed by implicit and explicit norms which regulate “what is speakable and what is not” (p. 32). The notion of an underlying unspeakability suggests the operation of an implicit form of censorship within the school space.
Censorship is, paradoxically, both restrictive and productive in that it subordinates and constitutes subjects and the “legitimate boundaries of speech”
(Butler, 1997a, p. 132). As such, censorship forms part of subjection, which constitutes subjects through a process of exclusion and foreclosure (Butler, 1997a).
This process regulates legibility and intelligibility (Butler, 1997a). Implicit censorship is somewhat abstract and intangible, and as such less vulnerable to contestation than explicit censorship, as explained in Butler’s (1997a) quote below where she says that it is:
important to distinguish between explicit and implicit censorship. The latter refers
to implicit operations of power that rule out in unspoken ways what will remain
unspeakable. In such cases, no explicit regulation is needed in which to articulate
this constraint. The operation of implicit and powerful forms of censorship
suggests that the power of the censor is not exhausted by explicit state policy or
regulation. Such implicit forms of censorship may be, in fact, more efficacious
than explicit forms in enforcing a limit in speakability. Explicit forms of
censorship are exposed to a certain vulnerability precisely through being more
readily legible. (Butler, 1997a, p. 130)
With regard to Raeven and Claire’s sense that the school would “really baulk” at their children raising their diblings in an activity or discussion about family in class,
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there is a perception of an abstract and intangible form of censorship in which speaking of diblings represents a potential unspeakable domain.
It is possible to see the functioning of implicit censorship of GSD knowledges in educational contexts across several studies. For instance, in a study by van Leent
(2014, 2017) where teachers were interviewed regarding their responses to diverse sexualities in primary schools, it was found that several teachers were apprehensive about addressing non-heteronormative concepts raised in the classroom. This apprehension drew on concerns about how classroom parents might respond or worries about professional ramifications for speaking what some consider unspeakable. In examining NSW and Federal education policy, syllabi and curriculum support documents, Ullman and Ferfolja (2015) found that the silences within these documents, along with the ways in which diverse genders and sexualities were discursively constructed, meant that GSD concepts and knowledges were “difficult to broach in school and potentially hazardous for teachers to address”
(p. 156). Moral panics such as those related to Safe Schools and the intended showing of Gayby Baby likely add to the discursive positioning of GSD knowledges as unspeakable in schools and potentially professionally risky. Alongside circulating discourses of panic about the inclusion of gender and sexuality diverse knowledges in schools, these systemic silences are productive and contribute to implicit censorship. Youdell (2011) states that the erasure and silencing of particular knowledges in schooling policies and practices create inequities in education and are bound up in power relations.
The experience of visibility with limits discussed above suggests that Raeven and Claire’s family exists on the borders of intelligibility within schooling contexts.
It demonstrates that representation of family at an institutional level and within the
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formal/hidden curriculum is therefore grounded within a particular framework that recognises only particular forms of family. Thus power works through implicit censorship to silence diversity outside of a heteronormative frame and visibility is shuttered beyond particular boundaries.
Claire and Raeven also shared a story of a more tangible or explicit form of censorship they had experienced in the school. The narrative began with an orientation to a television interview they undertook when a widely known personality had a baby with a same gendered partner:
Extract 7.3 Interview with Claire and Raeven
T725- Claire: a few years ago we had an interview about… same sex couples having T729 babies and in the interview Alex was sitting on your lap T730 Raeven: yeah we were being interviewed about you know our thoughts were about T731 Claire: and the question was how do you feel about Brenda Norbit’s partner being pregnant T732 Michelle: mmm T733 Claire: and there was a pause and in the middle of the pause he did a fart T734 Raeven: very loud (laughs) T735 Michelle: oohhh T736 Claire: he did a loud fart and then we just all started laughing T738 Michelle: (laughing) I was gonna say did you laugh T739 Raeven: (laughing) T740 Claire: it’s very funny
Claire and Raeven continued the narrative, explaining that the section of the television interview where Alex farted was shown on a national current affairs program. They explained that the outtake was shown during the program and the presenter responded with “something like see we’re not so different after all, lesbians find fart jokes funny as well” (T762). The presenter’s comment demonstrates the usual news reporting style utilised by the program which often challenges conservative views through humour. At a time when conservative commentators
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were criticising same-sex parenting, the presenter used this piece of film to humorously challenge those discourses and present same-sex parents as intelligible.
As the telling of the narrative continued, Claire moved on to share that Alex took a
CD of this television segment to school for Show and Tell.
Extract 7.4 Interview with Claire and Raeven
T766 Claire: so Alex is very proud and it’s Show and Tell and said let’s bring it in so we got the little CD and I gave it to the teacher and like weeks later nothing had happened and the teacher told me that she’d asked the principal and the principal said no T767 Michelle: Oh T768 Claire: about showing this thing ‘cause there’s something about lesbians T769 Raeven: yeah T770 Michelle: ahhh T771 Raeven: I s’pose ‘cause it used the “L” word I think was part of the T772 Claire: but when I asked the principal she said nah I would have said yes to that T773 Michelle: ahh so what do you think do you think T774 Claire: I think it was the teacher
In this part of the narrative we hear that Alex is very proud of this funny digitally captured moment of his life; it is special to him. Like many children excited to share aspects of their lives in Show and Tell, he chose to take a copy of this film segment to school with the full support of his family. However, Claire reported that the segment was never shared with the class because there was “something about lesbians” (T768) in it. While there is not clarity on who made the decision to prevent the segment from being shared with the class, this particular detail is relatively unimportant because individuals “are not the originators of the discourses they convey” (Butler, 1997a, p. 34). However, there is something that occurs before this point, in that the teacher reported that she had approached the principal about whether the Show and Tell should go ahead in the first place. Checking in with the principal about a child’s Show and Tell would not be something that a teacher
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regularly does. This raises questions about forms of implicit censorship that the subject-teacher may have been subjectivated through, in that she felt the need to approach the principal about this particular Show and Tell.
It is conceivable that heteronormativity and discourses of childhood-as- innocence which operate in schools could have worked to constrain the teacher through an abstract and intangible form of censorship in which she felt she needed to check on the appropriateness of the content. Thus, this narrative provides an opportunity to consider how the borders of speakability are reinforced and produced in schools through censorship at multiple levels. According to Butler (1997a),
“censorship is a productive form of power” in that it produces subjects and the borders of permissible and impermissible speech in accordance with implicit and explicit norms (p. 132). In this narrative, the label ‘lesbian’ is positioned as impermissible speech, and the film segment is prevented from being shown because it contains this word. As such, hegemonic constructions of family bound within the constraints of the heterosexual matrix work to create silences about particular forms of sexuality and doing of family. The erasure of Alex’s family through explicit censorship in this experience represents another iteration in the citational chain that conceptualises sexuality and, particularly, diverse sexualities, as inappropriate for children.
Significantly contributing to notions of appropriate childhood knowledges, as well as silences and erasure of GSD families in schools, are conceptions of childhood-as-innocence (Carlile & Paechter, 2018). The hegemonic notion of childhood innocence is a constructed moral and social concept that signifies children as unknowing, ‘pure’, naive, vulnerable, asexual, immature, and lacking knowledge about sex and sexuality (Robinson, 2005, 2012, 2013; Robinson & Davies, 2018;
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Taylor, 2010; Thompson, 2018, 2019). The concept of childhood-as-innocence represents a perceived and regulated boundary between childhood and adulthood
(Robinson, 2013). Discourses of childhood-as-innocence position sexual knowledge as exclusively the domain of adults, and the ‘knowing child’ is therefore constructed as non-innocent and corrupted (Robinson, 2005, 2012). Further, knowledge of diverse genders and sexualities is viewed as dangerous and damaging to the child, including representations of GSD families (Hopkins, 2013; Robinson, 2005, 2008;
Thompson, 2018, 2019). As such, “hegemonic discourses of childhood and innocence… have been utilised to strictly regulate children’s access to knowledge of sexuality” [italics in original] (Robinson, 2012, p. 258) and gender (Thompson,
2018, 2019). As a part of this regulation, parents, schools, and educators have been positioned as gatekeepers of knowledge and protectors of children’s ‘innocence’
(Faulkner, 2013; Robinson, 2005, 2008; Robinson & Davies, 2018; Taylor, 2010;
Thompson, 2018). In the story about Alex’s Show and Tell, the teacher acted as gatekeeper through explicit censorship of the film. Surveillance and protection in this way form part of the regulation of childhood and what it means to be a good adult citizen (Robinson, 2012). While such regulation is considered to be in the “best interests” of the child, it maintains power inequities between adults and children
(Robinson, 2012) and, ironically, increases a child’s vulnerability to harm through lack of knowledge and education (Robinson, 2013).
The notion of childhood-as-innocence is often drawn upon to justify invisibility and silencing of gender and sexual diversity, and GSD families, in primary curricula.
This often occurs with the idea that school and developmentally appropriate childhood educational environments for children should be asexual (Blaise, 2009;
Robinson, 2013). Allen et al. (2014) state that schools “are essentially conservative
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institutions which reflect and (re)produce wider dominant social meanings” (p. 34).
They go on to say that as schools are considered to be spaces where the “safety” of students is of utmost concern, “when discourses of risk intersect with sexuality at school, students are paradoxically constituted as ‘at risk’ of negative consequences”
(Allen et al., 2014, p. 34). From a conservative heteronormative perspective with regard to children, any teaching or curricula that fall outside of a heterosexual world- view are considered to be risky to children (Jones, 2011a), and exposure to perceived adult knowledges is considered to be a violation of childhood innocence (Robinson,
2005, 2008, 2013).
Despite educational settings for young people having been constructed as asexual environments, researchers have found that children’s play and learning at school silently reinforces heterosexual family life and traditional gender constructions as “normal” and favoured (Blaise, 2009; Epstein et al., 2003;
Robinson, 2008). This occurs through organisational structures that reinforce gender and sexuality norms and is maintained actively and passively in the everyday routines, processes and practices that occur in schools (Blaise, 2009; DePalma &
Atkinson, 2009). Power therefore operates in schools to “uphold the hegemonic social, political and moral values of dominant and powerful groups” (Robinson,
2008, pp. 117-118). This means that schools represent sites through which the status quo is fortified through surveillance and regulation (Robinson, 2005, 2008, 2013).
So, education, as a discursive field, contributes “to a particular regime of truth that works to normalise particular knowledges and socio-cultural practices that construct particular types of subjects” (Robinson, 2013, p. 64). In other words, education reinforces dominant societal gender and sexuality norms as well as notions of childhood-as-innocence and protection through regulation and surveillance. In the
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case of Alex’s Show and Tell, gender and sexuality norms were surveilled and regulated both through the teacher approaching the principal and censorship of the clip. These regulatory moves are likely influenced by discourses of childhood-as- innocence and gender and sexuality as dangerous knowledges.
In relation to the narratives discussed in this subsection, Raeven and Claire reflected an awareness of implicit and explicit norms that position sexual knowledges as dangerous to children:
Extract 7.5 Interview with Claire and Raeven
T785 Raeven: …maybe some of that’s reasonable but it’s that thing of let’s not get into sexuality ‘cause then we may be accused from other parents of T786 Michelle: yes T787 Raeven: you know talking about things they would rather their children not be T788 Michelle: mmm T789 Raeven: exposed to T790 Michelle: mmm T791 Raeven: I think T792 Claire: … well the school is it’s really diverse so we’ve got T793 Michelle: yeah T794 Claire: blended families we’ve got same-sex couples we’ve got singles we’ve got Muslims we’ve got you know T795 Raeven; yeah refugee families T796 Claire: refugee families we’ve got the whole T797 Michelle: yeah T798 Claire: spectrum really kids with disabilities so I don’t know they just maybe they think if they support the same-sex stuff then I don’t know some of the religious people might T799 Michelle: mmm T800 Claire: be offended I don’t know what was T801 Michelle mmm T802 Claire: that was about that decision …T825: …Michelle: … I know that you said that you thought it might be about the “L” word have there been other sort of experiences of talking about your family where they can talk about their family as having two mums I mean is that sort of open but not to the point that you talk about you’ve got donor T826 – Raeven: yeah… I think the problem with bringing in the donor element is T828 because it draws attention of the fact of how they (laughing) were conceived
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T829 Michelle: okay yeah T830 Raeven: I suppose (laughs uncomfortably) T831 Michelle: yeah T832 Raeven: and you have to start talking about you know sperm and T833 Michelle: yeah okay T834 Raeven: eggs and T835 Michelle: yes T836 Raeven: and all of that T835 Michelle: okay T836- Raeven: sort of thing to explain what a donor is I suppose… so I think that’s the T851 problem is I s’pose and you know just the fact you use the word donor and I don’t know it’s just… it starts straining into territory that I think T852 Michelle: yeah T853 Raeven: teachers might get a bit nervous about dealing with
In this excerpt, there is a clear understanding that children’s knowledge of concepts about diverse sexualities (and procreation) are constructed as ‘sensitive’ (dangerous) knowledges. Subjects are produced through discourse and this discussion shows that
Claire and Raeven are aware of the discourses that create foreclosure in their lives.
They contemplate diversity in the school and how there can be a nervousness on the part of parents and teachers in talking about topics that are perceived as being about sex and sexuality. Some forms of diversity are presented as privileged over others
(“some religious people might be offended” – T798-T800). In turns T794 and T798,
Raeven reveals how the school is perceived to ‘deal’ well with diversity, but just not when it comes to gender and sexual diversity. This differentiation between appropriate and inappropriate diversity concepts can also be seen within moral panics such as Gayby Baby. In this moral panic, conservative media and the Education
Minister applied particular standards about celebrating Wear it Purple Day that are not applied to students celebrating other awareness days – such as Harmony Day, a celebration of cultural diversity. This demonstrates a differentiated acceptance of
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diversity, that is some diversity is marked as appropriate in schools, while the subject of gender and sexual diversity is marked as inappropriate.
These differentiated notions of what is appropriate and not appropriate show how norms govern what will be endorsed and what will be censored. Butler (1997a) reminds us about the limits of the sayable:
To become a subject means to be subjected to a set of implicit and explicit norms
that govern the kind of speech that will be legible as the speech of a subject.
Here, the question is not whether certain kinds of speech uttered by a subject are
endorsed, but how a certain operation of censorship determines who will be a
subject depending on what is speakable and what is not. (p. 133)
Here, Butler notes that in examining censorship, the focus need not be on what speech is produced as sayable. Rather, the mechanism of censorship can tell us about who is produced as a valid and intelligible subject by considering what is endorsed and silenced. In censoring speech that relates to this couple’s family identity and structure, Claire and Raeven’s sexuality and family structure are silenced in the school space and produced as invalid and dangerous subjects. Thus, while they regularly experience visibility/intelligibility as a two-mum family within the school context, censorship can interrupt this space of visibility. These experiences of implicit and explicit censorship show some of the complexities GSD parents and families may experience as they navigate the visibility continuum.
Transitioning Gender in the Schooling Context: Marked Bodies and the Visibility Continuum
The tensions between visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility are now explored by considering how two parents, Mia and Sam, experienced the school space at a time when they were navigating Sam’s gender transition. Here the analysis
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provides insight into how visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility can operate differently for same-sex and gender diverse parents. Mia and Sam began their school parenting journey as same-sex parents. This changed when their child, Ava, was in
Grade Two and Sam transitioned gender to male. The discussion below is laid out in three parts, exploring experiences of visibility, hypervisibility, and then invisibility.
Talking with the teacher: Experiencing visibility. During Sam’s gender transition, the couple experienced a sense of visibility/intelligibility with regard to Ava’s teacher, Ms Peyton. She had been Ava’s teacher since mid-Grade One. The couple’s experience with Ms Peyton during Grade
One had been positive with regard to recognition of their same-sex parented family structure. Mia and Sam made a point of meeting with Ava’s classroom teachers to introduce their family and speak about the importance of classroom language reflecting family diversity. This is something that Mia decided to do from the time
Ava began school as, in kindy, there had been “several occasions when there’d been talk about families… and family trees and family roles” (T251-T253) and she wanted to “pre-empt… all of that” (T255-T257). Mia and Sam felt that recognition of family diversity in the classroom was important to supporting Ava’s confidence and sense of belonging. When they initially talked with Ms Peyton about their same-sex family structure, it was apparent that she was knowledgeable about gender and sexual diversity. She shared with the couple that she was “a member of Safe Schools”
(T956) as well as Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG) and that she had “a child who is trans”. As such, the couple felt a sense of visibility/intelligibility with Ms Peyton regarding their family structure and felt that inclusion would be not be “tokenistic”, rather it would be “genuine because it’s understood” (T1005).
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Ms Peyton was Ava’s teacher again in Grade Two. This was the year Sam started transitioning gender and the couple felt “really comfortable… to go to her and say” (T1055-1057):
Extract 7.6 Interview with Mia and Sam
T1059- Mia: well slight change you know (awkward laughs)… Ava now has a mum T1063 and a dad T1064 Michelle: yeah T1065 Mia: and she was like yep that’s good and she was all teary T1066 Sam: yeah she was T1069 Michelle: ohh T1070 Mia: and big hugs T1071 Sam: and she did she teared up T1072 Michelle: yeah T1073 Sam: and she grabbed me and she gave me this big hug and it was T1074 Michelle: oh what was that like for you T1075 Sam: yeah it was really nice especially because that was another trans guy’s mum T1076 Michelle: yeah yeah T1077 Sam: you know and T1078 Michelle: yeah T1079 Sam: that was T1080 Michelle: acceptance T1081 Mia: ‘cause at the time we were really stressed about family T1082 Sam: yeah T1083 Mia: and acceptance and T1084 Sam: yeah T1085 Michelle: ahh T1086- Sam: coz you know that’s such difficult terrain.. so to get that from T1090 somebody else’s mum… is just yeah was just T1091- Mia: and in terms of Ava… it was so great because that was one of my T1100 biggest worries at the beginning was she’s made such a song and dance about having two mums and all the kids know and all the families know.. and everybody knows… and what’s that gonna be like for her to go now well I don’t anymore (laughs)… and so to know that her teacher was an ally for her in that process was T1101 Michelle: huge T1102 Mia: yeah it was huge
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The experience of sharing Sam’s transition with Ava’s teacher was positive and meaningful for the couple according to how they tell this story. The experience reflected a sense of intelligibility and visibility and there was a sense that the teacher would be an ally for Ava in the change. Although it is conceivable that intelligibility may in part stem from her own child transitioning gender, this is not a necessary precursor to experiencing intelligibility in transition.
Beyond the classroom: Experiencing hypervisibility. Although Sam and Mia spoke of a positive response from Ava’s teacher where they felt fully supported and experienced a sense of intelligibility/visibility in relation to Sam’s gender transition, the pair’s stories suggest they experienced a sense of heightened visibility beyond the classroom. For Sam, one form of hypervisibility involved people within the school space being “overly nice”. Sam described this as
“forced” (T1364), “smarmy” (T1366), “false” (T1370), “amping it right up”
(T1385), and as something that felt like “acting” (T1383). He also described experiences of hypervisibility where people engaged in “flat out staring” (T1389) at him, and giving him “funny looks” (T1322). These examples demonstrate a heightened visibility that is markedly different from the experiences of visibility encountered with Ava’s teacher. Sam’s reporting of these experiences reflect
Kvasny and Payton’s (2018) assertion that “hypervisibility highlights the difference between being seen and affirmed from the discomfort that comes from being watched and judged” (p 800). Being seen and affirmed equates with visibility, that is a sense of intelligibility which results from being recognised (Butler 2004, 2005).
For Sam, the experience of feeling watched and judged created feelings of awkwardness. At the time of the interview, which was approximately a year after
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Sam began his transition, he was still experiencing this sense of awkwardness, as can be seen in the extract below:
Extract 7.7 Interview with Mia and Sam
T1313 Sam: it’s still awkward though I mean it’s still I still T1314 Michelle: yeah T1315 Sam: I mean even you know school pick-ups and stuff I still feel awkward T1316 Mia: but darling you probably would feel awkward T1317 Sam: well I mean I did T1318 Mia: no matter what T1319 Sam: I did before but I guess just kind of for different reasons but now it’s T1320 Michelle: so what do you think the difference of the awkwardness is from before and now T1321 Mia: like at Aftercare when you pick up Ava from Aftercare has anyone given you funny looks or T1322 Sam: everyone gives me funny looks all the time T1323 Mia: do they T1324 Sam: yeah all the kids do… the kids who know me the parents do the staff there do they all do T1325 Michelle: mmm T1326 Sam: and then over time it’s like you can see them (gives look) T1327 Mia: (laughs) T1328 Sam: just doing these like double takes T1329 Mia: yeah coz we were the token same-sex family T1330 Michelle: mmm T1331 Mia: they all knew who we were T1332 Sam: and so and so you know there’s T1333 Mia: they all knew our situation T1334 Sam: you know changes are T1335 Mia: and now they’re all like T1336 Sam: more pronounced T1337 Mia: that’s different what’s going on here
Here there is a fairly consistent feeling of hypervisibility for Sam, of feeling watched and judged since his transition. It should be noted that there is an element of invisibility created within this segment of the narrative, in that Mia resisted Sam’s interpretation of the situation and his expressed feelings of hypervisibility. The couple’s final comments in the excerpt (T1329-T1337) give an impression of what could be thought of as double hypervisibility, that is, there is a sense that the hypervisibility of Sam’s transition was increased dramatically by their already
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existing hypervisibility as the only visible same-sex parents in the school. In other words, because their family was already under the spotlight due to their same-sex family form, Sam’s gender transition, which also created a transition for their family structure, was even more noticeable and under scrutiny. This suggests there are multi-layered complexities that can occur for GSD families with regard to hypervisibility. Further, this narrative also provides an example of how intersections of identity, in this case gender and sexuality, can create multiple layers of hypervisibility.
Mia and Sam were not the only participants to talk about these multiple layers. Emily and Alexa’s stories drew on intersections of socio-economic status, sexuality, and race. In the interview, Emily shared that it was difficult to prise apart those layers when considering one’s experiences, demonstrating some of the complexities of intersectionality. The following description demonstrates how multiple intersections can result in layering of hypervisibility:
Extract 7.8 Interview with Emily and Alexa
T481 Alexa: I’ve often thought that if you were a man or I was a man we’d still be stared at as a mixed-race couple T482 Emily: yeah definitely T483 Alexa: like we’d still be T484 Michelle: mmm T485 Emily: so many levels T486 Alexa: people would gork at us anyway T487 Emily: yep T488 Alexa: just because we’re breaking racial couple stereotypes in 2017 T489 Emily: yep T490 Michelle: yeah T491 Alexa: so the fact that we both present as women as well T492 Michelle: yes T493 Alexa: is like shock horror do not let your kids near that couple coz they will turn out tainted T494 Michelle: mmm T495 Alexa: like it’s just people really kind of stared T496 Michelle: is that how you felt that like
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T497 Alexa: but people would look at us and kind of go t t (demonstrating stare) (P) T498 Emily: yeah T499 Alexa: they’d just literally move away
This extract demonstrates, as can be seen of Mia and Sam, that GSD persons with multiple intersections of identity are likely to encounter multiple facets of hypervisiblity and discrimination (Cohen, 1997). Intersections of race provide additional challenges. Whereas sexuality diverse persons may be able to protect themselves from discrimination or survive dangerous situations through keeping their sexuality hidden at times, people of colour are never able to mask the colour of their skin (hooks, 1988). These complexities with regard to intersectionality are important to consider when thinking through mulitiple layers of hypervisibility.
In considering intersections of identity, Sam experienced hypervisibility when he and Mia were present together in the school space as a same-sex couple, but during his gender transition, he had also experienced hypervisibility alone. This was a new experience for him:
Extract 7.9 Interview with Mia and Sam
T1450 Sam: before it was I guess when we were together it was more of that spectacle thing potentially more so now there haven’t been that many occasions when we’ve been up at the school together but now I feel more so when I’m there on my own picking her up I feel more like I’m a spectacle T1451 Michelle: what do you think that T1452 Sam: in my own right
In considering this shift, I draw on the concept of the marked body, that is the marking of one’s body as different from the norm. Key to this concept is that bodies which reflect dominant norms are invisible because the constructedness of norms is concealed, thereby causing such bodies that fit within dominant social norms to appear as natural and unremarkable (Lewis & Simpson, 2012). Power works through
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this process in that privileges associated with the norm are also invisible in this concealment (Lewis & Simpson, 2012). Conversely, bodies which fall outside of dominant norms stand out as hypervisible because they appear as different from the norm and are therefore marked (Lewis & Simpson, 2012). This concept aligns with
Butler’s theory of performativity, through which gender and sexuality norms appear as natural as an effect of continued repetitions of speech and bodily acts. These acts are performed unconsciously over and over again, creating chains of signification that produce particular ways of being as natural, thereby concealing their constructedness (Butler, 2007 [1990], 2011 [1993]). Thinking this through using
Butler’s (2004) conception of the heterosexual matrix, subjects who (re)produce cisnormative, heteronormative, and fixed binary notions of sex, gender, and desire are perceived as natural and normal and therefore remain unmarked. However, those who engage in altered repetitions of sex, gender, and desire stand out. This is because in altered repetitions, norms which usually remain implicit and invisible, become rattled, creating hypervisibility around difference. In this way the body engaging in the materiality of altered performance becomes marked, and can be viewed as unintelligible in accordance with dominant norms in the process of interruption.
As a same-sex couple, Sam and Mia’s bodies were marked as different to the norm through a materiality of the paired body. In other words, in the school, the visual of two same sexed bodies in relationship represented an altered performance to invisible norms of a ‘natural’ heterosexuality, and so the pair was marked as different, as outside of the norm, when their bodies appeared together. When Sam transitioned, his body became marked as a singular entity. As a person who previously presented as ‘female’, a transition to ‘male’ represented a repetition of gender which altered from the norm. In this process, Sam’s body became marked as
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different and he experienced hypervisibility alone. The couple anticipated a time in the future when Sam’s transition would be less visible and that this sense of hypervisibility would shift.
Strategies and future-thinking: Chosen invisibility and unwanted invisibility. The double bind of visibility means that those who experience hypervisibility will also experience invisibility (Roberts et al., 2008). This invisibility draws on dominant social norms and can position GSD parents and families as unintelligible.
GSD persons may ‘manage’ their visibility, making decisions about when to stand out and when to blend in, in order to navigate this double bind (Blake-Beard &
Roberts, 2004; Settles, Buchanan, & Dotson, 2019).
The narratives discussed in the previous subsection have provided insights into the ways in which Mia and Sam experienced multi-layered complexities relating to hypervisibility. In response to this repeated hypervisibility within the schooling context, Mia drew on a strategy of invisibility during Sam’s gender transition. Mia explained that she “just didn’t go to any school things” (T1230) during the time of
Sam’s transition as she had “had enough of being scrutinised” (T1295). For Mia, “it was enough to be the token same-sex family” (T1301-T1303) but “this was taking it to a new level that [she] wasn’t prepared to put [the family] through” (T1305-
T1307). Mia shared there had been no overt negativity (see T1424 below), which I read as meaning there had been no overtly transphobic responses. However, there appeared to be significant emotional labour in experiences of repeated hypervisibility. The institutional practices of schooling and family engagement mean that families have to work to be intelligible which reminds them consistently that they are outside the grids provided for by the institution. Even when individuals show acceptance, the institution marks them as different, as outside of the normalised
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‘nuclear’ family, and this forms part of the labour of hypervisibility. This excerpt provides some insight:
Extract 7.10 Interview with Mia and Sam
T1420 Mia: there’s been nothing negative at all there’s been no like you know when I emailed Aftercare and said just letting you know that Ava’s other parent Sam is now Sam Greenwood not Samantha Greenwood and is transgender so Ava will refer to Sam as her Dad now T1421 Michelle: mmm T1422 Mia: I just thought you should know that in case there’s any confusion and they emailed straight back and said yep no problem that’s fine we’ve changed the records thanks for letting us know T1423 Michelle: yeah T1424 Mia: so there’s nothing overtly negative it’s just the tiring nature of being T1425 Sam: mmm T1426 Mia: (deep and audible breath in) T1427 Sam: because it T1428 Mia: on show (deep and audible breath out) T1429 Sam: it’s so far from T1430 Mia: people’s frame of reference T1431 Sam: people’s frame of reference you know
The couple’s perspective that their situation was ‘far from people’s frame of reference’ suggests that in Sam’s gender transition the couple felt they exceeded dominant social norms. This led to a sense of being under the spotlight because Sam appeared as unintelligible according to the normative horizon in that time and place.
In discussing the “tiring nature of being on show” (T1424-T1428), Mia’s narrative demonstrates that being watched and judged due to existing outside the normative horizon can create, as Ahmed (2016) describes, a “chip chip, chip, a hammering away at [one’s] being” [parentheses added] (p. 22). This complexity is important. It is not any single event of violence that creates this sense of hammering, rather it is the layering of many micro events that in the end creates the tiredness.
Mia’s decision to avoid school events represented an attempt to find a way to become invisible, an attempt at pulling off invisibility. According to Filax (2007), one might become invisible through lack of physical presence as a form of protection
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from harm. For Mia, this decision to manage visibility using a strategy of invisibility through absence within the school community related to protecting herself and her family from the effects of unintelligibility, and demonstrates some of the complexities GSD parented families may experience in navigating schooling spaces.
Sam, too, sometimes used a strategy of invisibility to prevent hypervisibility.
This can be seen in the narrative below which unfolded after the discussion reported on earlier about people staring and acting in false ways:
Extract 7.11 Interview with Mia and Sam
T1402 Sam: yeah and it’s all the time and because it’s sort of sequential and because I continue to change and so people see me periodically over time T1403 Sam: mmm T1404 Sam: and so someone that I saw just recently I can’t remember who it was but it was someone who I hadn’t seen for a long time I saw them it was quite in passing and I think that they T1405 Mia: was it one of the parents T1406 Sam: yeah it could have been it was at the school so it probably was a parent yeah and they so they did the double take thing and T1407 Michelle: mmm T1408 Sam: they said hello or hi or whatever and ‘cause my voice is obviously different so different as well and so I just ignored it ‘cause I T1409 Michelle: mmm T1410 Sam: just I didn’t want to say (laughs) ‘cause it’s just like an T1411 Michelle: yeah T1412 Sam: extra T1413 Michelle: mmm T1414 Sam: yeah I just didn’t have it in me
In this narrative, Sam made the decision not to say anything in response to a salutation by a person he knew within the school space but had not seen for a long time. In doing this, Sam was attempting to minimise attention drawn to changes that had occurred to his body in transition, specifically the changes to his voice.
This approach of managing one’s visibility through invisibility reflects connections between subjectivation and the subject’s desire for recognition.
Subjectivation is paradoxical, in that power is both external to the subject, acting
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from the outside, subordinating, regulating and constraining the subject, as well as productive in that it forms the subject (Butler, 1997b). Butler (2006) states that:
Subject formation takes place within a set of norms that confer or withdraw
recognition. Put more precisely, these norms operate through a demoralisation of
experience: the subject is constituted through the anticipation or fear of having
recognition conferred or denied. (p. 532)
The use of invisibility as a strategy to prevent hypervisibility in these instances reflects this anticipation of the denial of recognition. For Butler (2004), the desire for recognition underpins “our very sense of personhood”, reflecting how each of us is
“outside ourselves, in a realm of social norms that we do not fully choose but provides the horizon and the resource for any sense of choice that we have” (p. 33).
Due to the “tiring nature of being on show” (Extract 7.10, T1424-T1428) mentioned by Mia, utilising invisibility in this instance through removal of one’s body from the school context, or through silence, represents an approach to removing oneself from reactions related to the struggle of the norm, and therefore from the tussle between conferral and denial of recognition.
Paradoxically, although Mia and Sam sometimes used invisibility as a strategy to reduce hypervisibility, the couple also experienced unwanted invisibility as an outcome of Sam’s transition. This unwanted invisibility reflects changes in the external appearance of their family and represents how queer aspects of diverse families can be rendered invisible due to externally nuclear appearances. As same- sex parents Mia and Sam utilised a strategy of intentional visibility with Ava’s teachers. They engaged in conversations in order to educate and encourage teachers to be mindful of normative family discourses and language, so that family diversity would be visible, rather than invisible, in the classroom. In doing so, Mia and Sam
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attempted to interrupt normative ideas of kinship to ensure that their family structure would be recognised. This strategy of active visibility shifted after Sam transitioned gender. At the time of the interview, Ava was in Year Three, and Sam’s transition had begun the year prior. The couple explained that this was the first year they had not organised a meeting at the beginning of the year to talk through diversity in the classroom. This was a conscious decision by the couple as discussed in the excerpt below:
Extract 7.12 Interview with Mia and Sam
T1770 Mia: … this is the first year that we haven’t gone to see the teacher to say this is our situation T1771 Michelle: mmm mmm T1772 Mia: this year’s the first year we’ve just let it be… T1773 Michelle: mmm how was that T1774 Mia: and let Ava run with what she was going to do …T1787 …Sam: …. I guess we kind of didn’t really feel that we needed to have that same conversation T1788 Michelle: mmm T1789 Sam: because we didn’t have the same aims we had with the previous conversations we’d had T1790 Mia: mmm T1791 Sam: yeah okay T1792- Mia: and because her language is normalised… coz the language is T1811 normalised now T1812 Michelle: yeah okay so it was always based on language really with the T1813 Sam: yeah T1814 Michelle: other talks T1815 Sam: yeah language and inclusion T1816 Michelle: and normalising but now you feel T1817 Sam: yep yep T1818 Michelle: normalised in the sense of being a male/female [parented family] T1819 Sam: yep T1820 Michelle: yeah T1821 Mia: we’re so outside normal we’ve become normal T1822 Michelle: yeah (laughs) T1823 Sam: yeah (chuckles) …T1835 …Mia: …so I felt a bit sad about that T1836 Michelle: mmm T1837 Mia: I actually enjoyed having those conversations T1838 Michelle: mmm T1839 Mia: and being a force for education and visibility
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This excerpt shows that the couple’s strategy of active visibility, which Mia and Sam utilised as same-sex parents to counter invisibility of family diversity, shifted after
Sam’s gender transition. Whereas initial conversations with Ava’s new teachers were previously focused on language and inclusion of diverse families to ensure Ava experienced a sense of belonging, now that their family reflected a mum/dad structure, the heteronormative language of family that is often apparent in schools was congruent with their own family form. In this space, the couple felt there was no longer a need to talk with new teachers about diversity as, from an outside perspective, their family reflected dominant norms. This represents a paradox in which their family is both recognised, because it fits a normalised structure, yet at the same time is completely invisible to those who are unaware of their story because their experiences as a queer family are hidden beneath an apparent nuclear form.
This can be seen in Mia’s comment that the family is “so outside normal we’ve become normal” (T1821).
Further, Mia felt a sense of loss in no longer “being a force for education and visibility” (T1835-T1839). Mia had enjoyed advocating for inclusion. There is a sense here that one can only advocate in the way they had if one exists outside the norm, that one can only ask teachers to ensure classrooms reflect inclusive ideas about families if one’s family troubles the norm in the first place. However, one could also portend that this particular work only needs to be done when required. As the mum/dad language common in schools now reflected their family structure, Sam and Mia chose not to perform the same work this year as it wasn’t necessary in the same ways it had been before. Thus, this decision also represents an unconscious choice to be understood as a nuclear family and was one that potentially created
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invisibility. It could also be viewed as part of the chip, chipping away at one’s being in which there is a layering of micro events that is wearing.
Sam and Mia’s experiences were not the only experiences which related to advocacy. Timothy, a parent who transitioned gender with two children in primary school, advocated for representation of diversity in the school space during his transition. It is worth noting that Timothy’s family shifted from an opposite-gendered parenting structure to a same-gendered parenting structure in his transition (this differs from the shifts to Sam and Mia’s family structure). His advocacy differed to that of Mia and Sam as he advocated for a broader inclusion of diverse sex, gender, sexuality, and family within the school space. While Timothy’s narratives reflected a sense of visibility and support from the school at an individual child/family level in response to his gender transition, Timothy’s advocacy appeared to be also concerned with invisibility of gender and sexual diversity at a broader, systemic level:
Extract 7.13 Interview with Timothy
T1769 Timothy: … what angers me and it really does anger me T1770 Michelle: mmm T1771 Timothy: is the fact that the schooling system and I’m gonna put this for both primary and high school T1772 Michelle: yeah yeah of course T1773 Timothy: because it’s been an identical experience in both T1774 Michelle: okay okay T1775 – Timothy: in the fact that the schooling system is very supportive in my T1781 experience of the child who’s going through it… with respect to the child whose parents are transitioning T1782 Michelle: mmm T1783 Timothy: or same-sex attracted the school has been very supportive on that T1784 Michelle: mmm T1785 Timothy: individual one-on-one basis [but] when it comes to widening that message out to make sure that the school population are going to be having children raised who are accepting of diversity in society T1786 Michelle: mmm T1787 Timothy: or having books open on display in the library that’s a different story T1788 Michelle: mmm T1789 Timothy: and that’s where I find the system shuts down
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T1790 Michelle: mmm T1791 Timothy: very easily out of fear T1792 Michelle: mmm T1793 Timothy: based on a handful of parents who will complain or fear that they will complain T1794 Michelle: yeah T1795 Timothy: and then because to me it’s just as important for my children from an individual perspective T1796 Michelle: mmm T1797 Timothy: that’s important for my kids T1798 Michelle: mmm T1799 Timothy: but I also think it’s important in a societal perspective as well T1800 Michelle: mmm T1801 Timothy: and all I’m asking is for reality to be taught
This extract reflects Timothy’s experience of invisibility with regard to his family and inclusion of GSD representation and knowledges within the broader school context. There is sense that the school meets GSD families at an individual level, however systemic invisibility is not addressed. Supporting the individual without broader systemic representation reflects a neoliberal approach, in which the individual’s needs are met but there is no broader recognition. Research has found that institutional practices and policies often perpetuate systemic invisibilities and silences with regard to diverse genders and sexualities (Ferfolja 2007; Ullman and
Ferfolja, 2016) and this can impact on recognition of GSD parents and families as they navigate schools. This can be seen in Timothy’s comment that he is just asking
“for reality to be taught” (T1801).
In order to counter this broader invisibility, Timothy advocated to bring about wider systemic recognition and representation of GSD identities and families by asking the school to introduce some books to reflect this diversity. He shared that he wanted his children “to feel more openly accepted by having some books put into the library” (T451) that represented their family structure. Timothy also spoke with the primary school sex education teacher about inclusion of diversity concepts such as
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intersex bodies and same-sex attraction. As a result of Timothy’s attempts to create broader visibility and recognition of diversity, there were mixed outcomes. While there was no change to the sex education program, the school did introduce some library books reflecting diversity.
Although Timothy’s transition differed from Sam and Mia’s experience in that he shifted from a mum/dad family structure to a same-gendered parenting structure, this narrative offers a contrasting perspective to Mia and Sam’s narrative with regards to approaches to advocacy. Perhaps this difference is because Mia and Sam’s focus was reported to be on ensuring language in the classroom represented family diversity so that Ava didn’t feel different. Timothy, on the other hand, reported being concerned with ensuring that the social reality of diverse genders, sexualities, and family were included more broadly, both for his children and the betterment of society. There are no doubt many contributors to these differing approaches.
Whichever way, these stories demonstrate the complexities experienced by GSD parented families as they navigate invisibility within schools. Moreover, they bring to the fore that some parents may have to make decisions about whether or not to advocate when their families are not reflected and represented in school contexts.
Advocating for inclusion of particular knowledges and representations has the potential to create further experiences of invisibility and hypervisibility. This exemplifies the labour that may be experienced by GSD parents as a direct result of the systemic perpetuation of articulated fantasies of gender, sexuality, and family in schools through silence and invisibility.
Notions of visibility as underpinning advocacy can also be seen when Sam and
Mia considered potential changes to their perceived ability to advocate in the future.
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Consideration of the impacts of a growing invisibility of their queerness in the process of Sam’s continued transition can be seen below:
Extract 7.14 Interview with Mia and Sam
T1573 Mia: …being a trans family is completely different to being a same-sex family because on the one hand you can’t hide in the way that you can pass unnoticed T1574 Michelle: mmm T1575 Mia: as a same-sex couple if you’re not holding hands or kissing you know you’re not really noticeable T1576 Michelle: mmm T1577 Mia: whereas now Sam is noticeable and can’t hide but within the next year or so we will be invisible T1578 Michelle: mmm T1579 Mia: and that brings with it a whole new range of T1580 Sam: mmm T1581 Mia: positives and negatives T1582 Michelle: mmm T1583 Mia: because it will be easier to navigate systems like the school system because we will be invisible and heteronormative T1584 Michelle: mmm T1585 Mia: but the emotional experience T1586 Sam: which also doesn’t sit well with us T1587 Mia: yeah because then the emotional experience of being invisible and rendered invisible of our identities within those environments T1588 Michelle: mmm T1589 Mia: does not feel comfortable T1590 Michelle: mmm T1591 Mia: if we remain invisible we’ve lost our capacity to advocate which is really precious T1592 Michelle: mmm T1593 Mia: and so… navigating that is gonna be a nightmare T1594 Sam: yeah T1595 Michelle: mmm T1596 Mia: because we don’t want to be silenced and not be a part of positive change
Extract 7.14 begins with noting a difference between same-sex parents and parents who are transitioning gender. Here, Mia notes that same-sex couples can ‘pass’, that is, make themselves invisible by not holding hands and kissing. Here, she refers to performatives that do not reveal their relationship, reflecting the concept of the paired body as marked that was discussed earlier. Further, she notes that while Sam’s
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transition was noticeable at the time of the interview, in the next year or so this transition will not be noticeable. There is a sense here that Sam’s body, and their family, will no longer be marked; the norm will no longer be troubled in their outward appearance. The couple noted that by the time Ava reaches high school, it is likely no one will even know of Sam’s gender transition. This is because Sam’s body would no longer be marked as different, and his initial transition will have taken place in a different schooling space. They raised the complexities of this shift in terms of advocacy, of possible bullying if Sam’s gender diversity suddenly becomes known in the high school space, and also the complexities of managing their own queer visibilities with Ava’s preferences in relation to visibility.
Extract 7.14 suggests Mia and Sam expect that the invisibility that comes with appearing to reflect dominant norms of ‘family’ will make the school system easier to navigate. In other words, because schools tend to reflect heteronormativity, as a mum/dad family there would be no norms troubled here and they expect this would mean a fairly smooth systemic experience. However, within this outward appearance of nuclear, their family history as a same-sex couple, with a child conceived through a donor, and a Dad who transitioned gender from female to male, a Mother who identifies as lesbian in an opposite sexed family, is all rendered invisible. They are grieving the loss of being visible as a queer family. In this space, the couple feel they’ve lost their capacity to advocate, something that they have expressed is important to them. This represents a paradox for the family. On the one hand, altered performances of gender and sexuality create hypervisibility, marking the body as different because they operate outside invisible norms. On the other hand, because these altered performances trouble the norm, they also create critical openings for change. As their family, more and more, appears as heteronormative, there is a sense
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for Mia and Sam that in no longer performing in ways that visibly alter the norm, these critical openings for change are lost. However, while these changes do not necessarily require a loss of advocacy, there are complexities involved in advocating from a space where one’s queerness is not marked.
In exploring Mia and Sam’s narratives in relation to the visibility continuum and Sam’s gender transition, it can be seen that GSD parents can experience complex tensions between visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility as they navigate school contexts. These tensions can create significant labour for GSD parents and this will be the focus of the following section.
Traversing the Borderlands of Invisibility and Hypervisibility: Experiences of Labour as a Same-Sex Parent.
So far in this chapter, I have examined experiences of parents of two families as they navigated the visibility continuum in schooling contexts. In alignment with
Settles, Buchanan and Dotson’s (2019) claim that those who belong to marginalised groups experience a combination of visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility across contexts, it is evident that GSD parents experience a combination of visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility as they engage with their child/ren’s schools. In this section, I move to examine the emotional labour involved in encountering and navigating the double-bind of invisibility and hypervisibility, drawing on the narratives of one parent, Jade. In order to examine emotional labour, I focus on what
Labov and Waletzky (1967) describe as the evaluation function within a narrative.
Evaluative aspects of a narrative can be spread throughout a story and represent an evaluation of the emotional meaning. These evaluative aspects provide insight into the emotional labour experienced by Jade in navigating school as a same-sex parent.
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Intelligibility provides access to certain privileges for individuals who reflect dominant norms, and while such privileges are obvious to those who exist outside the dominant norm, those who function within the bounds of normativity are often blind to the privileges they hold (Lewis & Simpson, 2012; Reddy, 1998). Further, dominant norms often remain invisible to those who operate within their framework
(Lewis & Simpson, 2012). Persons whose bodies are marked as ‘different’ are often highly visible, yet they can experience a “vague and often uncomfortable borderland existence” in navigating the double bind of invisibility and hypervisibility (Harris &
Nicolazzo, 2017, p. 9). These marked bodies do not experience the privileges of those who operate within dominant norms and so often spend much time managing their visibility, creating significant labour (Brighenti, 2007; Carlile & Paechter, 2018;
Roberts et al., 2008). As GSD parents do gender, sexuality and family alternate to the norm, there is potential they will experience additional labour in the school space.
Jade’s narratives raised several experiences of the double bind of hypervisibility and invisibility. Jade shared that there tended to be a focus on individual children and individual families within the school. This is similar to the comments made by Timothy earlier and reflects a neoliberal approach. Jade expressed that this individual focus meant very little happened at an institutional level to create visibility around diversity. Experiences of invisibility and hypervisibility involved significant emotional labour, particularly for Jade as in her role as stay-at-home parent, she interfaced with the school and schooling community regularly. This is the focus of the discussion moving forward as I examine six different aspects of labour.
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“Partner? She can’t be your partner!”: Labour of derealisation. Several of Jade’s narratives demonstrated how unintelligibility can lead to hypervisibility and invisibility and the emotional labour this can create. One such narrative related to parent information evenings. Parent information nights are commonly held in schools. They are not just an induction into a new classroom; such evenings also represent a space in which families come together early in the year to meet each other, often for the first time. Breezeville is a large school and this meant that at each parent teacher information evening, the couple were introducing themselves to a largely new parent group. In talking about such events, Jade explained “we go round the group and we introduce ourselves and of course we’re introducing ourselves as a parent to the same child so every single bloody parent night we’re outing ourselves again” (T678-T680). Jade shared that sometimes
“people go overboard to show us how welcome we are which is always as awkward as the opposite reaction” (T684). This experience is similar to that of Sam, analysed earlier in the chapter, in which he talked about the over the top reactions that can feel
“smarmy” and “false”. Jade shared there were other reactions too, explaining that in addition to going overboard, “some people go silent” (T684) and others “argue” with them saying “partner? She can’t be your partner. What do you mean partner?”
(T684). Jade’s narrative demonstrates that events such as parent information evenings can represent spaces in which GSD parents experience the double-bind of invisibility and hypervisibility, over which they have little control.
The denial of a partner (T684) can be considered through the lens of interpellation. Butler (1997a) notes the importance of language in interpellation, stating that “to be addressed is not merely to be recognised for what one already is, but to have the term conferred by which the recognition of existence becomes
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possible” (p.5). Similarly, Butler notes that interpellation depends as much on what one is not called, as it does the labels that are used to hail. In the case of other parents denying the couple’s own interpellation of their family structure (“partner, she can’t be your partner”, T684), their family was derealised, creating a space of both invisibility and hypervisibility. Even though their attendance together interrupted normative ideas about family, this instance represents a performative doubling down on the reproduction of norms about family through foreclosure of the possibility of same-sex partnerships and parenting.
Jade’s evaluative commentary within the narrative is as follows:
Extract 7.15 Interview with Jade
T688 Jade: … I find it hard like I do a very good job of pretending that it’s not hard like T689 Michelle: mmm T690 Jade: … you know I’m very good at faking it and pretending and most people who know me wouldn’t know how hard it is T691 Michelle: mmm T692 Jade: but I dread it I know it’s coming up I’ve got the belly thing T693 Michelle: mmm T694 Jade: the anxiousness it’s usually fine but there’s this you know T695 Michelle: yeah T696 Jade: and then I think Madison has to deal with that and she’s eight
It is clear from this exchange that there is significant emotional labour in navigating spaces of invisibility and hypervisibility. This labour is not just individual, but is experienced by family and exerted on behalf of family. This concept was evident across multiple interviews within the study. The extract above ends with Jade contemplating the notion that while this kind of experience is challenging for adults, it is also something her children have had to navigate.
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Jade shared a narrative in relation to her daughter, Madison, regarding a similar form of derealisation. She told me that when Madison was in Grade One, a child in her class commented every day on her having two mums. Jade explained:
Extract 7.16 Interview with Jade
T528 Jade: … there was kid in year one who asked Madison every single day do you really have two mums T529 Michelle: mmm T530 Jade: and Madison was like (performing Madison) (tone) yes just like I did yesterday T531 Michelle: mmm T532 – Jade: just like I will tomorrow get over it…like every single day and he’d T536 say that’s weird and I remember going (performing talking to the children) okay yeah lots of things are weird when you’re not used to them when you first come across things they’re weird and then you get used to them and then they’re completely normal T537 Michelle: to Madison T538 Jade: to the kids so he would say it in front of groups of kids T539 Michelle: oh T540 Jade: and Madison would sit there going what do I do and then I’d try to model T541 Michelle: ahh T542 Jade: (performing talking to the children) yep things are often weird when you’re not familiar with them I said for Madison it’s completely normal I just said you know Madison thought it was really weird when we came here and everyone’s in school uniform T543 Michelle: mmm T544 Jade: coz in Purpleland nobody wears a uniform (tone) isn’t that weird but now she’s used to it and the idea that T545 Michelle: yeah T546 Jade: yep things seem weird then you get used to them move on like you know T547 Michelle: yeah T548- Jade: … but there’s a sense that the kids are always watching so… in those T550 moments where you’re like oh god you’re really saying that to me and I’m like oh I’ve got kids watching and I have to be calm and mature and not anxious and not rattled T551 Michelle: yeah T552 Jade: and model how you can respond and that’s another kind of labour you’re talking about labour it’s a kind of you know I can’t even have my own reaction before T553 Michelle: yeah T554 Jade: I model what this looks like
There are multiple levels of labour detailed within this narrative. First, there is the emotional labour of knowing that one’s child is experiencing derealisation of her
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family every day. Both Jade and her partner Averie explained there was very little support from the school with regard to this situation and their family was largely left to deal with it alone. Further, as Jade described, there is labour involved in putting aside one’s own anxiety and emotional reaction in order to model to her own, and other children, how to work with an interruption to the citational chain.
As can be seen in each of these narratives, derealisation is an effect of unintelligibility. In other words, because Jade’s family sat outside the horizon of norms, they were framed as untrue; impossible. In being cast as unintelligible, Jade needed to navigate invisibility and hypervisibility. There is significant labour required as one navigates this double-bind that comes from being positioned as unintelligible.
“I’m too big, too public, too aggressive”: Labour of rattling norms. A concept arising across a number of interviews related to GSD parents educating schools in relation to family diversity. Jade shared a care and concern for others who may experience invisibility and silence in the school, such as other diverse families as well as children who might currently, or in future years, identify as same-sex attracted or gender diverse. She shared a narrative in which she had noticed that “the school forms still say ‘mother/father’” (T348-T350). In other words, the paperwork drew on the mum/dad binary. Jade approached the school about the form as she was concerned about the lack of inclusivity with regard to a wide range of diverse family structures. The response by the school to raising this issue created significant hypervisibility for Jade:
Extract 7.17 Interview with Jade
T366 Jade: and I said to them look you might want to change your forms to make them more inclusive because it’s not just us it affects kids in foster families kids being raised by grandparents T367 Michelle: yeah
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T368 Jade: like lots of single parent kids they looked at me like I came from Mars like I swear they just like (facial expression) T369 Michelle: wow T370- Jade: huuuuh (tone) and I felt like I was going in there with like a flag on T372 a… feminist march like the way they looked at me all I said was really politely oh T373 Michelle: you might want to look at that T374- Jade: you might want to update this… you know and they just looked at me T376 like I was this (tone) raging like political (deep sigh) T377 Michelle: wow so how does that feel for you when it when it feels like they’re seeing you that way as really kind of political when actually you’re just trying to bring their attention to something what’s that like T378 Jade: I find it really hard it always creates a shame reaction for me like T379 Michelle: mmm T380 Jade: I’m being too big too public T381 Michelle: mmm T382 Jade: too aggressive T383 Michelle: mmm T384 Jade: and it’s very difficult because in in Purpleland I’m kinda conservative sort of T385 Michelle: okay T386 Jade: I’m left of centre for sure but I’m not radical by any means T387 Michelle: yeah T388 Jade: and here I’m seen as completely radical T389 Michelle: mmm T390 Jade: and like (tone) aggressive and feminist and T391 Michelle: mmm T392- Jade: argumentative… I find it really confronting and it means I don’t T402 mention things sometimes… and it makes me feel ashamed T403 Michelle: yeah T404 Jade: and even though I can recognise that that’s what they’re doing I still feel it and I have to go through that process T405 Michelle: mmm T406 Jade: and then I worry about the impact on the kids of that that they’re gonna be read in a different way or whatever… and that everything is seen as a political thing like it’s not seen as just let’s try and improve things here
The evaluative aspect of Jade’s narrative here uses multiple phrases to describe how she felt in experiencing reactions from the school with regard to raising non- inclusive practices that not only affected her family, but also other families. The language suggested multiple ways she experienced hypervisibility:
like I came from Mars like I was going in there with a flag on a feminist march like I was this raging political
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like I’m being too big too public too aggressive as completely radical and aggressive and feminist and argumentative
Each of these phrases relates to a sense of unintelligibility and, accordingly, appearing as too loud or too much in speaking up about non-inclusive practices. Patai
(1992) notes that hypervisibility can become evident when groups who are publicly perceived as marginalised and powerless:
challenge the expectation that they should be invisible and silent. For those who
long have been in positions of dominance, any space that minorities occupy
appears excessive and the voices they raise sound loud and offensive. (p. 35)
In other words, when those who operate outside the normative horizon speak up against silence and invisibility, hypervisibility can result. This is perhaps one of the ways in which power functions through hypervisibility to normalise and naturalise dominant norms and maintain privilege as norms are troubled. Butler (2004) contends that the category of ‘human’ is “crafted and consolidated over time” and
“works through excluding a wide range of minorities” (p. 13). Consequently, for
Butler, recognition represents a mechanism through which power works as it produces particular forms of human as valid and others as not. She suggests that the rearticulation of the category of human, that is who is considered intelligible according to the normative horizon, begins “precisely at the point where the excluded speak to and from such a category” (p. 13). In other words, through speaking up from the place of unintelligibility, the human exceeds its “categorical definition” (p. 13) and the category of recognisably human is opened up to an alternate future.
However, as can be seen, in such moments where an utterance is resisted, there can be significant emotional labour for the person who speaks up. Moreover, there is no guarantee of recognition. Butler notes there are benefits to “remaining less than
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intelligible” in that it allows one to maintain a critical distance to norms, rather than be ‘undone’ by them, however she highlights that it can negatively impact one’s
“sense of social belonging” (p. 3). The excerpt suggests that these moments of misrecognition were confronting for Jade as they created shame and impacted on her sense of belonging. One could conceive there is a difference in labour for those who seek recognition in schools and those who already experience recognition because they fit within dominant social norms. This reaches beyond sexual and gender diversity to encompass intersections of identity such as class and race, suggesting families who experience the privilege of intelligibility according to existing norms would not need to engage in the same level of labour in order to be recognised and represented in schooling contexts.
“It’s like this insane self-consciousness”: Labour of the unspeakability of ‘dangerous’ knowledges. Jade’s previous evaluation included a reflection that the labour of hypervisibility means that sometimes she doesn’t “mention things” (T396) that she’d like to. Jade shared a narrative about an experience in the kindergarten class of her youngest child, Kaylee. While not located in the primary school context, this narrative is relevant to the double bind of invisibility and hypervisibility that can occur in primary spaces. Jade explained that in Kaylee’s kindergarten class there was a child whose sex assigned at birth was female, however the child stated they were a boy, had given themself a boy’s name, and became really upset when they were gendered in class as a girl. One day, Jade was having a conversation with the child’s mother who explained, “yeah you know it’s interesting she often says she’s a boy and wants to be called Aiden” (T576). Jade explained:
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Extract 7.18 Interview with Jade
T578 Jade: and I’m immediately like okay on the one hand I can be an ally for that and on the other the hand if I say anything I’m just gonna get pegged as being provocative or like you know or trying to convert people or like I’m gonna be read as a feminist a lesbian a this a that and I got kind of paralysed it’s like T579 Michelle: mmm T580 Jade: so I just kind of said something innocuous like oh has that been going on a long time is that part of a wider thing or you know T581 Michelle: mmm T582 Jade: you know and she said oh yeah I don’t mind she can be whoever she wants to be kind of thing
Here, Jade explains a moment where because knowledges about gender and sexual diversity, particularly with regard to children, can be read as dangerous and as a form of indoctrination or extremism, she became “paralysed” (T578). Her narrative went on to explain that she governed her own behaviour in this instance, as she responded in a way that would not be read as provocative. Jade evaluated this process:
Extract 7.19 Interview with Jade
T602 Jade: it’s like this this insane self-consciousness T603 Michelle: mmm T604 Jade: and it’s I find it really hard because it’s like my perspective on the world should be from here with the camera zooming out and then over and over again I feel like the camera turns on me T605 Michelle: mmm T606 Jade: and suddenly I’m looking at myself through other people’s eyes going I can’t win here T607 Michelle: mmm T608 Jade: … I’m suddenly … we’re suddenly these kind of like the way that we’re being read is really uncomfortable T609 Michelle: mmm T610 Jade: because we’re not just being read as us T611 Michelle: mmm T612 Jade: we’re suddenly representing a community
This excerpt reflects the notion of being read through the lens of an identity group rather than as an individual, and in this case, an identity group that has been perpetuated through moral panics as likely to try to indoctrinate children and destroy the family. Jade describes the process of hypervisibility and reading oneself through
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the lens of subjection. In this case, the lens positions queer discourses as deviant. As has been noted in this chapter, Kvansy and Payton (2018) assert that hypervisibility involves being scrutinised on the basis of “perceived difference, which is usually interpreted as deviance” (p. 798). In Jade’s narrative, the lens of being misinterpreted through a deviance frame was turned on herself, as a potential reaction should she be an ally to this child. This demonstrates how subjectivation continues through one’s life, both constraining the subject and producing the subject. Jade acted her place in discourse, speaking only what was considered speakable in broader societal terms.
Butler (1997a) notes that:
Acting one’s place in language continues the subject’s viability, where that
viability is held in place by a threat both produced and defended against, the
threat of a certain dissolution of the subject (p. 136)
Thus, speaking dangerous knowledges places one in a position where viability as a subject is placed at risk. It is possible to see in Jade’s narrative that this created significant labour, as she felt constrained in wanting to help but also at risk in speaking what is discursively positioned as dangerous.
“Oh you’re gay, I can ask you”: Labour of being cast as the spokesperson. Spokesperson pressure relates to an expectation that a person of a particular identity category can and should speak on behalf of the identity group. One of the ways in which visibility literature notes individuals experience hypervisibility is through spokesperson pressure (Feingold & Souza, 2013; Harris & Nicolazzo, 2017).
Jade shared several narratives relating to spokesperson pressure in relation to being read through her sexuality. Many of these experiences occurred at the level of the broader community including in relation to the organisation of rallies at the time –
Jade’s interview occurred after the same-sex marriage survey had been announced.
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However, she also shared a narrative of this occurring within the school space. When
Madison was in Grade Three, her previous Grade One teacher approached Jade for advice about a friend’s child who had “just come out as gay” (T1000). For Jade, this placed her in the uncomfortable space of spokesperson for a community. In evaluating this experience within the narrative, Jade shared:
Extract 7.20 Interview with Jade
T1002 Jade: there are lots of organisations to help that kid like use them I’m just one person she’s contacting me because she literally doesn’t know anybody else who’s gay T1003 Michelle: mmm T1004 Jade: it’s like oh yeah I used to teach a kid who had two gay parents they were out I can ask them T1005 Michelle: mmm T1006 Jade: as opposed to connecting with P-Flag or any T1007 Michelle: mmm T1008 Jade: like there’s lots of them she’s completely unaware so I gave her lists of here are the organisations you can contact here are the resources you can connect with you know T1009 Michelle: mmm T1010 Jade: this is what the parents could do to help the kid like but again there’s this sense of it’s up to us T1011 Michelle: mmm T1012 Jade: that that teacher was working in a major school has no awareness of any of these resources now as far as I’m concerned that teacher should be able to go to a central resource place and go oh here’s something that can help [children] who’ve just come out as gay and here are all the organisations that can help you and the websites here are the whatever and that should just every teacher should have access to that and know where to find it T1013 Michelle: mmm T1014 Jade: they shouldn’t have to think oh who do I know who’s gay who can I ask
Jade’s experience here reflects being cast as the spokesperson, that is, the person who has knowledge about same-sex attraction because she is a same-sex parent. That the teacher approached her, as the parent of a child she taught two years prior, for expert information about how to support a child who has come out, signalled to Jade that she was not only viewed through the lens of her sexuality by this teacher, but also that there was a lack of resources for teachers in supporting same-sex attracted
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children. Lack of training and resources for teachers relating to GSD concepts, identities, language, and families, was raised regularly across several interviews within the project. Knowing that a child somewhere out there needed support and the people around that child did not have access to information and resources, created significant pressure. Jade explained that it:
Extract 7.21 Interview with Jade
T1024 Jade: puts a lot of pressure on us coz we’re suddenly like T1025 Michelle: yeah T1026 Jade: okay there’s this an anonymous kid out there who needs help and if I don’t give them T1027 Michelle: yeah T1028 Jade: the resources T1029 Michelle: yeah T1030 Jade: they’re not gonna have them so that’s time it’s labour it’s emotional T1031 Michelle: yeah T1032- Jade: it’s very othering like when that frame of reference for me oh you’re T1034 gay I can ask you… I don’t always T1035 Michelle: mmm T1036 Jade: want to be a spokesperson for everybody else T1037 Michelle: no T1038 Jade: I don’t always want to educate
This experience represents spokesperson pressure, in that there is a pressure to be a spokesperson for others. It is clear that this pressure to provide information to keep a child safe represents emotional and time-based labour. Further, Jade noted the experience was very Othering in the sense that the teacher’s frame of reference for
Jade was based on her sexuality: oh you’re gay I can ask you. While Jade and Averie offered much education and support to their children’s teachers in their approach to education and schooling, this situation provides an example of being cast into the position of educator or spokesperson and demonstrates the need for school staff to have access to training and resources in providing support, so as not to create additional labour for GSD parents.
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“It’s alienating not to be treated as an individual”: Labour of being seen as a part of a homogenous group. A challenge of sitting outside the normative horizon is that one can be perceived as part of a homogenous group through the mechanism of an identity category. During the interview, Jade shared a narrative which reflected notions of same-sex parents as homogenous. As Jade’s family comprises two mums and no dads, she and her wife Averie have made some very conscious decisions about how to approach Father’s Day celebrations within educational contexts. The children do not participate in Father’s Day craft and activities. Rather, they do their own craft or activity and, when school Father’s Day celebrations are being held, the children are able to do something special outside of the school to celebrate their family. This is something that is communicated to teachers by the parents. While Jade reported that this had worked well previously in Madison’s classes, she shared a narrative regarding her experience in the kindergarten setting her youngest child, Kaylee, attended.
Extract 7.22 Interview with Jade
T1162 Jade: Father’s Day at the moment at kindy is an absolute pain the teacher is – wonderful but she’s decided that she knows all about it because they T1166 had a same-sex couple last year and they just made grandfather’s day things and that was great so I said oh good we probably wouldn’t do that in our family… as Father’s Day got closer they made a point of saying oh you’re welcome to come to the Father’s Day breakfast (performing herself) oh thank you (explaining to researcher) ‘cause we regard that as our choice not their choice our choice whatever we want to do it’s up to us T1167 Michelle: yes T1168 Jade: I said okay great thank you and then they said um you could bring – grandad… and I said (performing herself) oh we probably wouldn’t do T1182 that actually that’s not what we would do in our family but you know I’ll talk to Kaylee about what she wants to do… (explaining to researcher) I am not working at the moment I have the privilege of being able to take Madison out of school we go for a milkshake T1183 Michelle: yeah T1184 Jade: so I said to Kaylee that we could do the same thing… T1185 Michelle: mmm T1186 Jade: they continually tell her that she can bring Grandad I continually say that’s not appropriate in our family
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T1187 Michelle: mmm T1188 Jade: Kaylee came home and said but I want Grandad to come ‘cause he’s a boy T1189 Michelle: oh T1190 Jade: and we’re like okay (sigh) so we said it’s up to you Kaylee T1191 Michelle: yeah T1192 Jade: you can choose what we do but in our family we wouldn’t really take Grandad would we he comes to Grandparents Day T1193 Michelle: mmm T1194 Jade: you know and eventually she said okay but I wanna go ‘cause I don’t wanna miss out on the treats T1195 Michelle: yeah T1196 Jade: (performing herself) that’s fine I’ll take you to Father’s Day breakfast they’ll have yummy biscuits
Jade continued the narrative, sharing experiences they’d had with Madison’s teachers, which suggested that there had been no issue with her just doing free-time and not participating in Father’s Day activities in response to the parents’ request.
She then shared some further details regarding the family’s kindergarten experience:
Extract 7.23 Interview with Jade
T1218 Jade: but the kindy teacher said oh well we’ve made poems for all the kids and we’ve just changed out the name Dad for Grandad for Kaylee (performing herself) okay (sigh) T1219 Michelle: mmm T1220 Jade: this is about the fourth time through this conversation so I wrote back we would prefer that Kaylee does not bring anything home for Father’s Day thank you T1221 Michelle: mmm T1222 Jade: to bring something that’s her choice it would be for Averie and me T1223 Michelle: mmm T1224 Jade: not my Dad… he’s their Grandad that’s a different role T1225 Michelle: yeah T1226 Jade: there is no reason to conflate them and it drives me bonkers this let’s substitute some other random guy in
Jade explained in her interviews that she does not agree with substitution. She expressed that to substitute another male in on Father’s Day would be just as strange as substituting another female if you were celebrating sisters and didn’t have one.
Jade explained, “it doesn’t make any sense and we said we have no interest in stopping other kids from celebrating Father’s Day. Fathers should be celebrated.
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They are important. Dad’s matter – if you have one. Our kids don’t… It’s really not a big deal… Let other kids celebrate their dads but don’t insult the dads by saying, ‘Oh you don’t have a Dad, any guy will do, it just can’t be female, [it] has to be a male”
(T1278-T1286).
I take this narrative to suggest the teacher perceived there was a gap in the family that needed to be filled by another male, representing a performative
(re)production of ‘family’ through the mother/father, female/male binary. This
(re)production forms part of subjectivation in that the teacher-subject is both constrained and subordinated by heteronormative citational chains, as well as productive of them. Kaylee, too, was subjectivated through these norms. In the narrative, Jade shared that Kaylee said, “but I want Grandad to come ‘cause he’s a boy” (T1188) and in this we see she has become part of the citational chain as well.
Even though Jade attempted to interrupt the citational chain, the norm persisted and
Jade’s family preferences became invisible. In other words, their family was unintelligible as an effect of a heteronormative lens. In this process, their difference was made more visible in that there was a constant message about a hole in their family that must be filled with a ‘male’. This narrative reflected that unintelligibility was difficult to interrupt because the approach of substitution had worked for another same-sex family previously, suggesting homogenisation based on an identity category. That is, there appeared to be an underlying belief that if this worked for one same-sex parent, it would work for all same-sex parents. Jade noted at least four conversations in which their family preferences were not heard. Given that intelligibility/visibility denotes being seen, heard, and understood as a valid social subject, this suggests a compounded invisibility.
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I asked Jade about what this was like to have repeatedly explained her view about Father’s Day, including how the family would like it to be handled, and it not be heard. Jade shared:
Extract 7.24 Interview with Jade
T1239 Michelle: what was that like to have said it so many times T1240 Jade: I was frustrated and T1241 Michelle: yeah T1242 Jade: it’s because she had in her mind that they had fixed this problem because that has worked for another family T1243 Michelle: yeah T1244 Jade: and so yeah all these queer couples all these queer families they’re all the same they can T1245 Michelle: yeah yeah T1246 Jade: same solutions and that’s sort of almost worse than starting from scratch because she’s got this fixed idea she’s like well we don’t want Kaylee to miss out T1247 Michelle: mmm T1248 Jade: well that’s up to us to figure out and if Kaylee’s feeling like she’s missing out she can write one for me or one for Averie or whatever but not some random other person T1249 Michelle: yeah absolutely T1250 Jade: not that my dad is a random other person T1251 Michelle: no no T1252 Jade: but you know …T1306 …Jade: ….I can understand why it’s hard for teachers ‘cause different families do different things some families celebrate Father’s Day as a Donor’s Day some people celebrate grandparents I do get why teachers are confused but it’s alienating not to be treated as an individual and just get T304 Michelle: yeah T305 Jade: homogenised
This evaluative aspect of the narrative demonstrates the labour of being seen as a part of a homogenous group. Jade expressed that it was alienating and frustrating to be homogenised and not treated as an individual. This narrative demonstrates the importance that schools consider the independent needs of GSD families, rather than seeking one-size-fits-all approaches, to reflect multiple ways of doing family.
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“I can relax, somebody else has this”: Reduced labour resulting from visibility/intelligibility. So far, this section has discussed several narratives which reflect incidences of labour in facing experiences of invisibility and hypervisibility. Not only does this labour take a toll with regard to time, energy and emotions, Jade’s narratives also suggest that the labour of making oneself visible meant the opportunity to engage in more important matters was lost. She explained:
Extract 7.25 Interview with Jade
T2094 Jade: I think sometimes what I really truly deeply care about gets lost in the everyday battles about other things T2095 Michelle: mmm T2096 Jade: so like when I really want to be having conversations about learning philosophies I’m having conversations about how we’re going to protect our kids from the plebiscite T2097 Michelle: yeah T2098 Jade: and I have to do that because that other stuff can’t happen if the kids aren’t T2099 Michelle: yeah T2100 Jade: safe if they don’t belong and all of that but I sometimes resent that this energy is going into lots of other conversations like Father’s Day rather than what she is learning how she is playing what is she curious about T2101 Michelle: yeah T2102 Jade: what makes her eyes light up
This exchange brings to the fore that GSD parents are just like any other parent – interested in their children’s progress at school, the school’s philosophies, their children’s experiences and interests in school, and so on. Further, it demonstrates that when the norms circulating within a school position GSD parents as unintelligible/invisible/hypervisible, the labour required to make oneself visible/intelligible can mean that important opportunities are lost. Given that research has shown parent engagement is important to success and wellbeing (Constantino,
2003; OECD, 2011), both in school and beyond, one must question the implications of unintelligibility for those who sit outside of dominant norms.
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In concluding this discussion about labour, I discuss a section of Jade’s interview in which she reflected on an experience of visibility when seeking a new school as the family intended to move before the beginning of Kaylee’s Prep year. In their search for a new school they visited Roseville State School and were shown around by a head teacher. During this tour, Jade noticed that the boys were “playing with an engineering program” (T438) and the girls were engaged in another activity.
She asked the teacher if the children had chosen those activities or if they had been allocated these particular tasks, as she was concerned about processes of implicit gendered stereotyping, something she had witnessed at Breezeville. The teacher responded:
Extract 7.26 Interview with Jade
T438 Jade: actually we’ve had to have a lot of conversations about gender recently because we had a trans kid last year and we suddenly had to realise that everything we were saying was very gendered and we’ve had to think that through T439 Michelle: mmm T440 Jade: and I immediately went oh this is great T441 Michelle: yeah T442 Jade: I can relax here because somebody else was doing the work like I was grateful that she was brave enough to say that to me not knowing who I was or T443 Michelle: yeah T444 Jade: where I came from T445 Michelle: yeah T446 Jade: for a start because most people won’t mention that to ‘normal’ parents and I put that in quotation marks T447 Michelle: no I know what you mean yeah T448 Jade: and the fact that they’ve had that conversation and that they’ve had to go through that and when I said you know we’re a same-sex family what do you think that would be like for us (performing the head teacher) oh yeah we’ve got others - T449 Michelle: mmm T450- Jade: and she said we’re still learning but we have others she didn’t say T454 we’ve got it all figured out ‘cause the other thing that teachers have a tendency to do is go oh yeah it’s not a problem we’ve got that all figured out… and they’re very proud that they have it figured out and then they won’t listen to us anymore T455 Michelle: yeah T456 Jade: because they’ve got the answers but what this head teacher yeah head I think that’s the term head teacher
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T457 Michelle: head of curriculum head of T458 Jade: head of teaching head of curriculum something like that she was doing the tour and by saying we’ve had a trans kid transition we’ve had to think about gender yes we have other same-sex parents and we’re still learning but we have them I was like oh I can relax T459 Michelle: mmm T460 Jade: somebody else has it somebody else is on this we can come into this community and we can just be ourselves and we don’t have to advocate whereas at Breezeville I feel this constant sense of being Othered and alienated and like everything is up to us T461 Michelle: yeah T462 Jade: you know T463 Michelle: it sounds like it T464 Jade: and it’s exhausting like it’s at the same time that you’re being affected by things you also have to advocate for yourself
This exchange provides insight into an experience where Jade felt that diversity was visible and recognised within a school. Jade described that, at Breezeville, there had been a consistent experience of feeling alienated and Othered as well as significant labour in advocating for herself and her family, all while needing to manage the emotional experience of hypervisibility and invisibility. However, in Jade’s experience in touring the new school and discussing the school’s approach with the head teacher, she experienced a sense of visibility, in that diversity within the school was intelligible and recognisable.
Jade’s narrative suggests that, in the experiences of having a child transitioning gender within the context as well as multiple same-sex parented families, the school had rethought the discursive norms by which they previously operated. Butler (2005) states that “sometimes the very unrecognisability of the other brings about a crisis in the norms that govern recognition” (p. 24). This can lead to a critical opening in which existing regimes of truth are questioned (Butler, 2005). Butler asserts that calling a regime of truth into question can be “motivated by the desire to recognise another” and “the impossibility of doing so within the norms available… compels
[one] to adopt a critical relation to those norms” [parentheses added] (pp. 24-25). In
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other words, when norms are interrupted, a desire to recognise another creates a space in which norms may be critically examined and new ways of thinking and being are opened up. It could be conceived then, that Jade’s fairly consistent experiences of invisibility and hypervisibility at Breezeville perhaps, in some way, related to a lack of desire within the school to recognise those who do not fit within the normative horizon. In contrast, Jade’s narrative suggests that at Roseville, in having children and families of diverse genders and sexualities within the school space, norms were interrupted and the school was willing to question the established normative horizon.
I would argue, then, that Roseville was open to learning and growing in their knowledge, that in the rattling of norms, they turned toward the troubling and allowed space for critical openings and change. Consequently, Jade felt the school’s approach would mean she could relax, that someone else was doing the work around creating visibility and recognition. Given Jade’s comments about the important things being lost in the labour required to create visibility and recognition at
Breezeville, there is significance in this narrative. The excerpt suggests a perception that they will just be able to be themselves at this new school, that they won’t be spending so much time and emotional energy on acts of labour in order to create visibility around their family, because the school has taken responsibility for understanding and recognising diversity.
Discussion
The narratives and analysis presented in this chapter demonstrate that GSD parents encountered a range of experiences on the visibility continuum when navigating schooling contexts. Experiences of visibility/intelligibility occurred when participants were seen, heard and understood as valid social subjects. Visibility
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tended to occur at an individual level, however, this visibility did not tend to be evident at a systemic level. There were many examples of invisibility within schooling contexts. For instance, implicit and explicit censorship worked to regulate intelligibility in relation to implicit and explicit social norms. This censorship is underpinned by hegemonic discourses of family as well as childhood-as-innocence and, through this mechanism, GSD families can be erased and silenced. Further, invisibility occurred through constructions of family as nuclear, as well as through derealisation of diverse family structures and notions of unspeakability. Concerns were expressed regarding teacher knowledge and training and some parents attempted to disrupt systemic invisibility through educating teachers and schools about language and diversity. Hypervisibility was examined through the lens of the marked body. Whereas same-sex parents are marked through a materiality of the paired body because their pairing interrupts hegemonic heteronormativity, persons who transition gender are marked as a single entity. This is because in transitioning gender, normative notions of sex causing gender and sex/gender as a fixed male/female binary (ergo heterosexual matrix) are interrupted. In these interruptions to existing citational chains, bodies are marked and one can experience hypervisibility. Some parents reported using a strategy of invisibility to reduce or avoid the hypervisibility that can occur as a result of the marked body. This has implications for parent engagement. It was also noted the marked body may also be used to advocate. In medically transitioning gender, changes to the body over time may mean the body is no longer marked as different and this can create unwanted invisibility for some. This occurs because one’s queerness is no longer visible and, as such, is not marked and there can be implications with regard to advocating for diversity from this unmarked body space. Navigating the borderlands of invisibility
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and hypervisibility can create significant labour at both individual and family levels for GSD parents. Such labour can reduce opportunities for connecting with schools and educators about children’s learning and interests, as time may be focused on creating intelligibility/visibility of one’s family. This creates another layer of inequity within schools for GSD parents. However, if schools are willing to stand in critical relation to norms, there are opportunities to recognise difference when citational chains are interrupted, creating possibility for GSD parents to be recognised as intelligible and their family’s needs better met.
Conclusion
In this chapter, I considered the experiences of GSD parents in relation to the visibility continuum, drawing on Butler’s concepts of recognition, intelligibility, and norms. Those who sit outside of dominant societal norms experience a combination of visibility, hypervisibility, and invisibility in their lives (Settles, Buchanan, &
Dotson, 2019). This is reflected in the narratives of GSD parents involved in this study, who navigated various combinations of each of these three visibility concepts.
The analysis showed that even where GSD parents experienced a sense of visibility/intelligibility in schools, hypervisibility and invisibility also operated as an effect of normative discourses. These latter concepts of hypervisibility and invisibility represent a double-bind in that those who are denied recognition according to the normative horizon are both rendered invisible and are subject to heightened visibility.
In the first subsection, the analysis showed that censorship forms part of the production of invisibility and silence in schools in relation to GSD families.
Censorship can be implicit or explicit and works through foreclosure, producing
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particular knowledges as unspeakable, and producing GSD parented families as unintelligible.
The second subsection drew on the concept of the ‘marked body’ to consider hypervisibility. This concept contends that those who do not fit within dominant norms stand out and, as such, they are marked as different. Key to this concept is that the constructedness of dominant norms is concealed in the marking of particular bodies as ‘different’, creating a mechanism whereby privilege remains invisible. I found that the body was marked differently for same-sex parents and gender diverse parents. Same-sex parents were marked in the pairing of bodies, as two same- gendered persons in relationship interrupted heteronormative notions of family.
Gender diverse parents, on the other hand, were marked as a singular body. This is because gender norms were interrupted through alternate performances of gender.
The analysis showed that in response to experiences of hypervisibility through the marked body, GSD parents may use invisibility as a strategy of protection. When withdrawal from the school and schooling community is utilised as a strategy of invisibility, there are potential implications for parent engagement. There are other tensions with regard to the marked body in relation to invisibility as well. For instance, data showed that when one’s queer body becomes unmarked, such as in later stages of a gender transition, unwanted invisibility can also be experienced.
This concept is relevant to other ‘unmarked’ bodies such as queer single parents.
This unwanted invisibility can create tensions with regard to advocacy in schools.
In the third subsection, I examined labour with regard to navigating the borderlands of invisibility and hypervisibility. This section highlighted that when
GSD families are constructed as unintelligible in schools, parents can expend significant labour in navigating the context. GSD parents engage in multiple forms of
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labour when viewed as unintelligible, through issues such as derealisation, being cast as a spokesperson, and being seen as part of a homogenous group. This labour is cumulative, it’s like a “chip chip, chip, a hammering away at [one’s] being”
[parentheses added] (Ahmed, p. 22). When GSD parents need to focus time on creating intelligibility/visibility of one’s family, that is in being seen, heard and understood, there can be reduced opportunities to connect with schools and educators about children’s learning and interests. This represents a space of inequity, as parents who reflect privileged ways of being and doing in schools (such as middle-class, white, heterosexual, cisgender) are already seen as valid and intelligible and likely do not experience the same levels of labour. The analysis showed that if schools can stand in critical relation to normative discourses, there is greater possibility of visibility for GSD families, and potential for reduced labour. It also demonstrates that participants in this study appreciate the work that was already being done in some schools.
This is the final data chapter for this thesis. The first data chapter (Chapter 5) examined broader circulating discourses which (re)produce family in heteronormative and cisnormative ways. In Chapter 6, I drew on the concept of binaries to examine the production of family within schooling contexts. I found that families were often produced as nuclear in schooling spaces through conceptions of the mum/dad binary. Finally, this chapter considered some experiences of GSD parents with regard to visibility, invisibility, and hypervisibility. Each family that participated in the study shared narratives reflecting these aspects of the visibility continuum, and analysis demonstrates these concepts work in complex ways in schools to constrain and enable GSD parents. Further, it was found that navigating the double-bind of invisibility and hypervisibility can involve significant labour,
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demonstrating the importance of recognition of family diversity within schooling spaces.
In the final chapter, I discuss conclusions and implications for this study. I briefly revisit the work of each of the chapters in the thesis and consider the themes evident within the research. Ethical considerations, limitations and opportunities for future research are also discussed. Although a queer theoretical approach is able to sit comfortably with the ambiguity that comes from dismantling knowledges, I offer some recommendations for policymakers and schools. It is my hope that these recommendations provide critical openings for interrupting some of the normative discourses that create invisibility and hypervisibility for GSD parents in educational contexts.
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Chapter 8: “I Don't Feel Like I Should Have To Ask Permission For
My Family Just To Be My Family”: Implications and Conclusions
That notion and that culture of to talk about this is to render you suspicious, that
it's inappropriate to talk about - that fear actually reinforces that being a same-sex
family is something that's disturbing... I am not going to have our family be shamed
or rendered an object of suspicion or fear… I'm [part of] a same-sex family… It is
just who we are... We can't change it… I don't feel like I should have to ask
permission for my family just to be my family. (Averie, T219-T245)
This research was conducted in order to examine the experiences of GSD parents as they navigate the primary schools their children attend. Accordingly, the scope of the study reflected a focus on families and their experiences in schooling contexts. I used three nested levels of analysis within the study, that is, the levels of broader society, schools, and individual families. My aim in taking this approach was to provide a contextualised analysis of the data. I presented and refined several questions that have framed my engagement with the research process:
1. What are the reported experiences of GSD parents in primary school settings in
Queensland, given that schools can be spaces that reproduce and reinforce
heteronormativity and cisnormativity?
2. What do GSD parents report to be the enablements and constraints of primary
school education practices as they parent in GSD families?
3. What are the implications of these enablements and constraints for GSD
parents and their families in primary schools?
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These questions guided each step of the research process, from planning through to reporting. They continue to frame my ongoing thinking and engagement with the research. Examining the enablements and constraints experienced by GSD parents, and the implications for families, provides an important space in which to deepen our understandings of how to engage with, and meet the needs of, diverse families in schools. As research has shown that the relationships between schools and families influence students’ success, both in school and beyond (Constantino, 2003; Emerson, et al., 2012; Epstein, 1995; OECD, 2011), this research provides a platform for considering how schools can create spaces of recognition and belonging for GSD parents and families.
Retracing the Process
As I bring the thesis to a close, I begin by retracing the process. In this section, I revisit each of the chapters, providing a summary of concepts discussed and conclusions made. I then consider themes across the data which have emerged from analysis. This retracing of the thesis provides a foundation for considering elements in this final chapter which follow, namely contributions of the research, ethics, caveats/limitations, opportunities for future research, and recommendations.
The thesis began with an exploration of the socio-political context in which this study was undertaken. I briefly overviewed some of the ways that GSD parents have been positioned in broader society in order to ground the study in an understanding that GSD parents have long been constructed as harmful to children within particular paradigms. I also grounded the study within circulating discourses about the inclusion of diverse genders and sexualities in education. These discourses position such concepts as dangerous knowledges, underpinned by constructions of childhood-as- innocence, and therefore as inappropriate for schools. Within a context of increasing
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numbers of GSD parented families, this introductory chapter demonstrated that examining the experiences of GSD parents in navigating their children’s schools is relevant in current times, and an important topic as schools work to ensure spaces of belonging for diverse families.
In Chapter 2, I examined the literature relating to GSD parented families’ engagement with primary schools. I began by examining the construction of the nuclear family demonstrating that, far from being the ‘natural’ and ‘ideal’ form of family it is often claimed to be, the elevation of the nuclear structure has specific historical, cultural, and social roots (Bloch, 2003; Carrington, 2002; Donzelot, 1980;
Poster, 1978). I then examined parent engagement within schools, noting that effective parent engagement in children’s schooling is underpinned by strong family-school relationships and represents an important factor in children’s long-term wellbeing and outcomes (Constantino, 2003; Dockett & Perry, 2014; Epstein, 2011; OECD, 2011).
Approaches to parent engagement within schools can be founded on the school’s agenda, rather than being grounded in reciprocity between schools and parents (Pushor et al., 2005). The position taken by schools in this arena can influence the ways in which schools engage and partner with GSD parented families. I noted that power can function within schools to privilege dominant norms and this can have implications for
GSD parents and families (Pushor, 2012; Pushor & Murphy, 2010; Vincent, 2013
[1996]). I then examined existing literature about GSD parent experiences within educational contexts, overviewing major themes in the literature. Specifically, I discussed concepts of school choice; disclosure; school policy and forms; family- school partnerships; children’s safety and wellbeing; GSD inclusive curricula and resources; language; invisibility, hypervisibility, and silencing; hostility, harassment, homophobia and transphobia; sameness and diversity. There are limited studies
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focusing on the experiences of GSD parents in educational settings and this thesis adds to this field.
The use of queer theory as the theoretical foundation of the thesis was detailed in
Chapter 3. Queer theory emerged out of gay and lesbian studies, queer activism, and intellectual histories such as poststructuralism and feminist poststructuralism
(Seidman, 1997; Stein & Plummer, 1994; Sullivan, 2003). I pointed out that queer theory can be used to destabilise, interrogate, question, deconstruct, trouble, and/or disorder existing knowledge frameworks in order to think about the familiar in new ways. I also noted that this theoretical lens sits comfortably with the ambiguity that comes with dismantling knowledges, without needing to replace such disruptions with clear answers (Gowlett, 2014). Queer theory is conceptually slippery (Seidman, 1997;
Sullivan, 2003), indeed more accurately presented as queer theories (Hall, 2003); however I examined several key tenets, including: subjection and norms of recognition/intelligibility; categories of identity; queer as a verb; binaries; heteronormativity/cisnormativity; Butler’s (2007 [1990], 2011 [1993]) conceptions of the heterosexual matrix and performativity, and; intersectionality. Each of these concepts underpinned the design, analysis and reporting of this project.
Chapter 4 set out the research design component of the study. Within this chapter, I detailed the methodology, method and approach to analysis utilised for the research. This chapter worked to set the parameters for the study. I explained that the research design for the analysis reported in Chapters 6 and 7 comprised a poststructural approach to narrative inquiry of data collected (Blumenreich, 2004) in a series of active interviews (Holstein & Gubrium, 1995). I outlined the use of dialogic/performative narrative analysis which provided me with the means to understand narratives as contextual, and to interrogate local and societal contexts in
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analysis. As interview data is positioned within a context of societal discourses, I noted that the context of this study would be set through critical analysis of an additional data set, that being a corpus of political, media and public commentary and texts across three moments in the same-sex marriage debate between 2004 and 2017.
In Chapter 5, I explored some of the dominant circulating discourses within media, politics, and public opinion which have positioned GSD parents and families as unintelligible, unrecognisable, and ‘less-than’ parents of nuclear formations over time.
The purpose of this chapter was to situate interview data collected for this project within broader societal discourses. During the past two decades in Australia, arguments opposing same-sex marriage have regularly drawn on normative discourses of the ideal nuclear family and positioned same-sex parented families as a threat to children. In examining these discourses, I found that ‘natural’ and ‘correct’ families were often represented as one cisgendered man and one cisgendered woman biologically producing children through procreation, and without external assistance.
Men and women have been considered to have innate, complementary and unique gendered qualities, considered essential to children’s development and psychological wellbeing. These normalising ideas have been used to construct GSD parented families as a threat to child rights. Although arguments against same-sex marriage have regularly drawn upon normalising conceptions of family, in the leadup to the
2017 same-sex postal survey there was a shift in focus which included foregrounding concerns about the inclusion of gender and sexuality diverse knowledges in schools.
Inclusion of these concepts was positioned as harmful to children. Examining these discourses demonstrated some of the ways in which GSD identities and families have been produced as a threat to children and education. These discourses have the potential to impact on GSD parents and families as they navigate school contexts.
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In Chapter 6, I shifted from examining discourses of family circulating in broader society to considering ways in which family is produced in schools through discourse. In undertaking this analysis, I drew on the concept of binaries working as a unified whole to suppress and erase diverse forms of family. The analysis demonstrated that family diversity was erased and suppressed through mum/dad and parent one/parent two binaries that often circulate in schools. These binaries are underpinned by heteronormativity, homonormativity and cisnormativity and can be evident within language, systems, policy and practice in schooling contexts. This chapter worked to trouble the ways families are produced in schools and schooling communities, demonstrating that constructions of family within educational contexts can work to enable or constrain recognition and engagement of GSD parented families as they navigate the schools their children attend.
While Chapter 6 focused on the schooling context, in Chapter 7 I narrowed my focus to examine the experiences of individual families within schools. In this chapter,
I specifically examined experiences of visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility through the narratives of three of the eight interviews undertaken within the project.
The analysis conducted drew on Butler’s (1995b, 2004, 2005) conceptions of recognition, intelligibility, and norms. Whereas experiences of visibility, that is, being seen, heard and understood as a valid social subject (and family), enabled positive family school relationships, experiences of invisibility and hypervisibility constrained parents’ engagement with schools and schooling communities. Through analysis of the data, I found that invisibility of GSD families occurred in multiple ways, such as through censorship, erasure, assumptions, denial of diversity, homogenisation, and limited language/representation of diversity. With regard to hypervisibility, I drew on the concept of the marked body and found that same-sex parented families may
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experience hypervisibility of the paired body, while gender diverse parents may also experience hypervisibility with the gaze upon a singular body. I discussed the use of invisibility as a strategy to avoid the gaze upon the marked body and noted that this has obvious implications for home-school connections. Further, I discussed that when a body becomes unmarked (for instance, when a gender transition becomes less obvious over time) it can create complexities in relation to visibility and, perhaps, capacity for advocacy. The visibility continuum represents a complex space for GSD parented families. I examined the labour involved in traversing the borderlands of invisibility and hypervisibility in schools, where there is often little recognition of diverse genders, sexualities and families. I found that there can be significant labour for GSD parents in schooling contexts. In talking about the labour required in navigating schools, participants of this study expressed the constraining nature of experiences of invisibility and hypervisibility. Such labour can reduce opportunities for connecting with schools and educators about children’s learning and interests, as time and energy may be focused on creating intelligibility/visibility of one’s family or managing hypervisibility.
One of the themes I have attempted to foreground throughout the reporting of this research is that family is often viewed through a nuclear lens, both within broader societal and schooling contexts, despite the multiplicity of family structures and arrangements that exist in reality. This conceptualisation is founded on a fantasy of family which is also grounded in heteronormativity and cisnormativity. I found that in schools, normative productions of family can occur at an institutional level, as well as at the level of staff, students and schooling communities. This means that GSD parented families can experience constraints at multiple levels in which their doing of family is rendered invisible and/or constructed as unintelligible. I framed this
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production of family as grounded in subjectivity, in that, as subjects are produced in discourse, so too do they become implicated in the production of discourse. Further, I positioned nuclear constructions of family within schooling contexts as performative.
In other words, I argued that when schools (and schooling communities) draw on nuclear notions of family and (re)produce these within language, policy and practice, they are implicated in the (re)production of normative notions of family. This means that schools (and schooling communities) are both constrained by heteronormative and cisnormative discourses, as well as productive of them.
I have demonstrated throughout discussion within the thesis that GSD parented families interrupt normative nuclear notions of family. Butler’s work shows that interruptions to the norm create critical openings in which norms become open to possible change. There were moments, across the thesis, where narratives suggested that norms had been troubled in schools, either prior to families attending, or in response to their presence or advocacy, and new ways of thinking about family had emerged. However, Butler’s work also contends that interruptions to the norm do not automatically result in an easy integration into new norms. Across the data, there were many examples where even in the space of interruptions to family norms, notions of
‘normal’ or ‘appropriate’ families continued to be produced in ways that drew on nuclear ideals. This demonstrates that, even in the interruption of norms, heteronormative and cisnormative discourses are remarkably resilient. Further, there were experiences in which families felt recognised on an individual level, that is, their family structure and situation were validated and acknowledged. However, on an institutional level there was not usually the same recognition (for instance, in curricula or schooling practices). Thus, the production of family represents a complex space of -
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seenness, silence, visibility, invisibility, and hypervisibility - for GSD parented families within schooling environments.
An additional theme that threads across the research reported here relates to the emotional and energetic labour that can be assumed by GSD parents and families in moments of derealisation and misrecognition within schooling contexts. I do not mean to suggest that this additional labour is unwelcome for every parent. Some parents within the study spoke positively about what they sensed was a contribution to education and change. However, it is important to note this additional labour can add up. Ahmed (2016) shares that consistent experiences of unintelligibility create a chip, chip, chipping away at one’s being. In other words, each occurrence of unintelligibility, which can be experienced as invisibility or hypervisibility, represents a violence against the person who is Othered. This suggests that this labour can represent a constraint that GSD parents experience as they navigate schools.
Importantly, this labour can interrupt parent engagement, in that time spent needing to attend to making their family intelligible is time that is then taken from engaging with schools on the basis of their children’s learning. Further, for families that have intersections of identity, such labour is multilayered. Given the importance of parent engagement in relation to children’s outcomes and wellbeing, this is problematic.
Contribution to Literature, Theory, and Methodology
The findings provided in this thesis are significant as they attend to the broader social and educational problems discussed in Chapter 1. That is, the thesis examines the experiences of GSD parents in a societal context in which they have long been positioned as harmful to children and, further, in which gender and sexual diversity has been constructed as dangerous and inappropriate. This research project has been designed to sit in the nexus of these two social problems and adds to the limited but
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growing body of research exploring the experiences of GSD parents as they navigate the primary schools their children attend. Importantly, this thesis helps us to understand more about engaging and developing strong family-school relationships with GSD parents and families. Positive home-school relationships and parent engagement are strong factors in children’s success and wellbeing and are therefore important considerations for this project.
Given the limited studies exploring the enablements and constraints experienced by GSD parents, adding to this research base with further analyses and findings is essential and urgent. I have drawn on the narratives of participants to provide deep analysis of two particular areas relating to the experiences of GSD parented families in educational contexts: (i) the production of families through language, systems, policies and practice within schools and schooling communities, and (ii) the complexity of
GSD parent experiences in relation to the visibility continuum. The extensive analysis of each of these areas provides further insight into the workings of performativity, power, heteronormativity and cisnormativity in relation to schools and diverse families. It demonstrates the importance of interrupting normalising discourses to create greater opportunity for recognition of diversity.
This thesis also adds to the literature by considering the ways in which GSD parents experience engagement and family-school relationships. This area represents a gap in existing parent engagement literature. Existing literature critiques the ways in which parent engagement draws on particular ideas of class and race to privilege white, middle-class families, and demonstrates that parent engagement is often positioned in ways that reinforce the school’s agenda. Just like schools can reinforce social hierarchies through privileging whiteness and middle-class ideals, schools might also reinforce heteronormative and cisnormative ideas, and this can impact on the
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ways in which schools engage with GSD parents and families. Notions of childhood- as-innocence underpin the construction of schools as asexual spaces which silently reinforce normative ideas of gender, sexuality and family. Given that GSD parents represent a threat to such hegemonic regulation, there is potential for GSD parents to have unique experiences within schooling contexts as they interrupt these constructions of normativity. This thesis, then, adds to the literature by providing insight into the ways in which school engagement and family-school relationships are experienced by GSD parents. It provides a useful base for schools to critically evaluate their approaches to engaging with GSD parents.
With regard to theory, this thesis has contributed to the field in a number of ways. Chapter 6 built on existing work that shows how the binary functions as a unified whole to suppress or exclude ways of doing gender and sexuality outside male/female and heterosexual/homosexual binaries. I have extended this theoretical work to consider ways in which the concept of family is constructed using mum/dad
(heteronormative) and parent one/parent two (homonormative) binaries, thereby excluding and suppressing a multitude of family structures that exist outside of these dualisms. This work considered, theoretically, how particular ways of interpellating parents in schools (re)produces families in normative ways. It was noted in the theory chapter that Butler has concern over the use of the heterosexual matrix as a totalising symbolic which is then reified and reproduced through its use as a theoretical tool. In order to work with this concern, I have been sure to utilise Butler’s concept of performativity to show how reiterations of family which draw on binaries contribute to normative notions of families as nuclear, and how these norms can be interrupted by
GSD parents and families, even just through presence. Considering data through the lens of performativity is not common to all work utilising the heterosexual matrix as a
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concept, and so also contributes to the theoretical field. A further theoretical contribution of this thesis relates to the bringing together of Butler’s conceptions of recognition, intelligibility, and norms to think through the visibility continuum. By linking intelligibility with visibility, and unintelligibility with hypervisibility/invisibility, I was able to think about these concepts in new ways.
I have contributed methodologically by adding to the body of research which utilises a poststructural approach to narrative inquiry. Some authors argue a poststructural approach to narrative inquiry is inappropriate. For instance, Clandinin and Rosiek (2007) argue that a narrative framework does not support a poststructuralist approach because, rather than viewing participant narratives as primary sources of insight and knowledge, a poststructuralist perspective frames narratives as discursive constructions inviting critique. Certainly, a poststructural approach to narrative inquiry challenges the conventional narrative view of the subject as an “autonomous individual capable of negotiating the world in a unique way” and positions the subject as a function and effect of discourse (Blumenreich, 2004, p. 77).
However, I found that this does not mean that narrative inquiry is inappropriate, rather it opens up a space where narrative can be utilised as a tool for better understanding subjectivation and the (re)production of norms and discourses. Such an investigation provides groundwork for understanding the ways in which normative discourses, and interruptions to these, work to enable and constrain families.
Ethics and Caveats/Limitations of the Study
Ethical considerations in my study included many factors considered important in other studies, such as appropriate data management, de-identifying data for confidentiality, providing information about counselling services, and ensuring participants knew they could withdraw from the research process. There were further
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ethical concerns specific to this project. It is common for people within the LGBTIQ+ community to know others within the community and this meant that I needed to ethically consider the detail included in reporting in order to think through whether particular descriptions could be identifying within the community. Further, in relation to this aspect, I also made the decision not to make my data available to other researchers, through a research bank, for the protection of my participants. Some of the interviews were undertaken after the announcement of the same-sex marriage postal survey and this also needed to be carefully considered within data collection as there was significant distress within the queer community at the time. Insider/outsider positioning was also an important consideration in relation to ethics.
There are several caveats and limitations of the study that are important to mention here. There are a small number of families included in the study. While this could be considered a limitation in terms of generalisability from some perspectives, my intention was never to focus on generalisability. Instead I aimed to conduct a deep and rigorous analysis of the narrative data collected, and as such the number of participants is appropriate and manageable in a study conducted by a sole researcher.
Interestingly, and not by design, all families attended schools in high socio-economic areas in proximity to a major Australian city, Meanjin (Brisbane). Given this context of participants, limited analysis and discussion relates to the intersections of class or geography with gender and sexuality. In many cases though, the stories shed light on the ‘middle-upper’ class providing families with the cultural capital to engage with schools, such as in parent/teacher meetings. However, the narratives also provide insight into how, even in holding this class advantage useful to navigating school, gender and sexuality norms can powerfully interrupt GSD parent experiences. It is also important to note that the majority of the families in my study parented in same-
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sex parent couples. There were just two families that offered insight into experiences of gender diverse parenting (each of these parents had experiences both as same-sex parents and gender diverse parents). This impacted on the breadth of data about gender diverse parents navigating schools, however I have attempted to work with this by ensuring detailed analysis through the case study work undertaken in Chapter 7.
Further, I believe the rich data collected for this project means there is enough diversity in the families to ensure that understandings of the heterogeneity of GSD families is evident.
In undertaking this research, my aim was always to use theory as the foundation of the analysis of narratives told by participants. This presented challenges as I worked with several layers of analysis, as well as attempting to be self-reflexive. Self- reflexivity in this research was challenging in many ways because of the broader social context in which the research was undertaken. Reviewing media, political, and public commentary and texts as a part of my analysis was extremely challenging and wearing because of my own identity as a queer woman and the timing of the analysis. I collected and engaged with analysis of data at a time in which same-sex marriage was being debated by the public in anticipation of the plebiscite. Further, moral panics about increasing recognition of gender diversity and inclusion of GSD knowledges and representations in schools, as well as the introduction of a Religious Freedom
Review which could potentially allow continued discrimination against the LGBTIQ+ community, also created challenges. To address my feelings of being ‘hammered’ as
Ahmed (2016) describes, I was able to talk with my supervisors, take time out where necessary, and engage with community. I also engaged in advocacy work on committees which focused on supporting GSD students in schools, assisting me to focus my energy on contribution, rather than the hammering. Further, I found the four
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orientations framework, developed by Jones (2009, 2011a, 2011b, 2013) assisted me to understand the commentary and texts I was reading as discourse which reflected particular social and historical constructions - specifically, conservative, liberal, critical, and postmodern. By engaging in this way with what was said by politicians, media, moral entrepreneurs and the public, I was more able to focus on commentary as discursive constructions, rather than as personal attack. Within this context, I felt an enormous ethical responsibility to my participants and the LGBTIQ+ community in the way I would contribute with my research. This also required self-reflexivity.
Again, this is something I addressed through discussions with my supervisors. While this factor was challenging, it was also enriching as a researcher as it helped me to step beyond the victim/hero binary (Allen, 2015) and focus on unpacking discourses within my analysis of data.
In investigating the experiences of GSD parents in primary schools, I aimed to engage with the full breadth and complexity inherent within and across the lived stories of participants. In concluding the research, however, it has become apparent that much remains untold. In the detailed analysis required within narrative inquiry, as well as in deconstructing and troubling normative discourses and established truths, there are limits with regard to the breadth of data that can be included in analysis. As such, there remain complex webs of connections between participants, narratives, contexts and theory that are impossible to relay entirely within just one thesis. This means some threads are lost within the overall narrative. With this in mind, I have regularly experienced a sense of unease about representations of participants within the research as there is no way for me to include all of the nuances of their stories.
However, there was a point when I realised I needed to put forward my findings, although my thinking is still in process. Additionally, such unease can be mitigated by
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consideration of opportunities for future investigations that might explore these nuances further.
Opportunities for Future Research
The current study has focused on the experiences of GSD parents in proximity to
Meanjin (Brisbane), Queensland. Given that rural and regional areas can hold unique challenges for GSD persons, expanding research to include rural and remote areas of
Queensland, or even expanding the research Australia-wide, would provide opportunities to consider data geographically as well. My experiences teaching in remote and regional areas of Queensland has provided me with insights into the different dimensions at play here, and how this would be fertile ground for investigating the intersection of geography in this work.
The current study has focused on the experiences of GSD parents, however, some experiences of children of GSD parented families were highlighted within participant narratives. Expanding research to include children’s narratives, or research with a focus on the narratives of GSD children, would provide another layer of insight into the experiences of GSD parented families. Although the voices of children are incredibly important in research, very few studies exist which examine the experiences of children with GSD parents in schools, particularly of children in early childhood and primary settings. There is potential for further research here in order to better understand children’s experiences of family recognition within schools.
The research undertaken for this study demonstrated that gender diverse families have unique experiences of navigating the schools their children attend. There is a dearth of literature exploring these experiences. The ‘T’ in LGBT is often subsumed into the LGB in research about GSD parented families and this is problematic in that research often comprises a majority of same sex parents yet talks about LGBT
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parented families as a homogenous group. Further, for gender diverse identities beyond transgender, there is even less research. As such, engaging in further research with a focus on gender diverse parents specifically is particularly urgent.
Mother’s Day and Father’s Day as they are celebrated in schools were raised regularly within the interviews and were discussed in a variety of ways by participants.
Given the prevalence of Mother’s Day and Father’s Day celebrations in early childhood and primary school settings, and particularly as there has been pushback politically and within the media when schools have attempted to make these days more inclusive, I intend to analyse this data corpus – and perhaps collect additional data to investigate these ceremonies as a next step in the research.
There has been much research undertaken with regard to childhood-as-innocence discourses (for example, extensive research has been undertaken by Kerry H.
Robinson in relation to this in Australia). Notions of childhood innocence arose in the analysis of parent experience narratives for this study. As such, school-based research examining the ways in which discourses of childhood-as-innocence work to position
GSD parented families would allow us to understand more about the construction of family in schools and how this might constrain or enable recognition of family diversity in educational contexts. Schools are implicated in the (re)production of normative discourses of family which ignore the diversity of families operating within schooling spaces. This finding highlights potential future research examining the discursive production of families within school spaces, through language, policy, and practice.
The research showed that, from the accounts of the parents in this study, some schools are thinking through the interruption of normative and silencing discourses in relation to GSD parented families and gender and sexual diversity. It would be
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worthwhile to engage in future research that examines the complex ways in which schools are creating spaces for resisting and transforming heteronormative and cisnormative discourses, particularly with regard to families.
Recommendations for Policymakers and Schools
The analysis contained within this thesis represents a complex uncovering of the lived experiences of GSD parents as they navigate the primary schools their children attend. The analysis offered a rich understanding of the productions of family within schooling contexts and the implications of this for GSD parented families. Although a queer theoretical approach is able to sit comfortably with the ambiguity that comes from dismantling knowledges, without needing to replace these with clear answers
(Gowlett, 2014), I do offer some recommendations for policymakers and schools in what follows. This provides me with an opportunity to advocate for recognition and representation of GSD parented families in schools, with the hope that this critical opening may reduce some of the labour for GSD parents and families as they navigate these spaces.
The Queensland Education Department Parent and Community Engagement
Framework (Queensland Government, Department of Education and Training, 2018) acknowledges diversity within parenting communities, stating that “diversity should be celebrated and supported through an inclusive culture that promotes the skills and insights of all people irrespective of age, gender, ethnicity, generation, sexual orientation or disability” (p. 4). However, the Queensland Department of Education, which produced this framework, offers no specific guidelines relating to supporting, engaging, and being inclusive of GSD parented families. Such documents are evident from the department in relation to supporting GSD students and GSD teachers
(Queensland Government, Department of Education and Training, n.d.~a, n.d.~b).
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Given the importance of authentic parent engagement to student wellbeing and outcomes, I would recommend similar documentation be developed in order to ensure that children and parents in GSD families are also supported through clear policy and guidelines. Such guidelines could include information about language, including the language on forms, considerations for Mother’s Day/Father’s Day and so on.
Given that analysis showed that schools are complicit in the reproduction of heteronormative and cisnormative ideas about gender, sexuality and family, policy makers could examine ways in which family is produced within documentation, policy, curriculum, resourcing, and language. Similarly, as reported by participants in this study, databases in both public and private schools continue to record parent data on a two-parent per family basis. Considering ways in which databases can be set up to allow for multiple ways of doing family, including step-parented families, diverse family constellations, and polyamorous families, could be a simple inclusive measure.
In order to promote the social reality of family diversity is represented in schools, rather than a constructed fantasy of family, I contend that the inclusion of concepts relating to GSD parented families also be explicitly included within the curriculum. For instance, the HASS Year 1 Curriculum on diverse families currently asks students to engage in inquiry about “differences in family structures and roles today, and how these have changed or remained the same over time” (ACARA, n.d.,
ACHASSK028). Although a large range of family structures are referred to in the elaborations of this content descriptor, including “nuclear families, one-child families, large families, single parent families, extended families, blended (step) families, adoptive parent families and grandparent families” (para. 1), there is remarkable silence with regard to GSD parented families. This silence has the potential to contribute to implicit censorship about inclusion of GSD concepts in education, such
Chapter 8: “I Don't Feel Like I Should Have To Ask Permission For My Family Just To Be My Family”: Implications and Conclusions 337
as ensuring GSD parented families are represented, particularly alongside discourses evident within moral panics about inclusion of GSD knowledges in schools (such as
Safe Schools22 and the intended screening of Gayby Baby23). While there is scope in the curriculum for individual teachers to include GSD parented families in learning where they may feel passionate about inclusion, invisibility of GSD parented families is promoted through silence. This area of the HASS Curriculum is one example of where the Curriculum needs to be revised to include GSD parented families. A focus on ensuring diverse forms of family are represented and reflected in the curriculum provides opportunity to interrupt the (re)production of the family through historical discourses and to represent the social reality of diverse families navigating our communities.
Several participants spoke of the lack of training and resources for teachers, particularly with regard to language, gender and sexuality, and conceptions of family.
Indeed, the literature tells us that teachers want to work in ways that are inclusive and socially just, but often feel ill-equipped or lack confidence to manage issues of diversity and difference appropriately (Keddie & Ollis, 2019; Niesche & Keddie,
2016). Providing training to teachers and other school staff relating to family diversity and language has the potential to interrupt some of the normative discourses circulating in schools, as well as to reduce labour for GSD parents. Further, this training would assist in considering the ways in which families are interpellated in school and classroom language, including written language such as in forms and notes, and practices, as well as the ways in which family is discussed/represented in the hidden and null curriculum.
22 See Law (2017); Thompson (2018; 2019) 23 See Jeffries (2019); Shannon & Smith (2017)
Chapter 8: “I Don't Feel Like I Should Have To Ask Permission For My Family Just To Be My Family”: Implications and Conclusions 338
I would encourage schools to critically reflect on the ways in which they engage with families in relation to Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. There are no easy answers here and amongst the participants of this project, there was an array of beliefs with regard to approaching such days in school environments. However, what is clear is that assuming that all families have both a mother and a father is problematic, as is the
(re)production of gender stereotypes that can accompany such days. Schools/teachers may be able to contend with some of the complexities of Mother’s Day and Father’s
Day through ensuring clear and inclusive communication about such days, and gauging the individual needs of families in such instances. Celebrating “family days” rather than the duality of Mother’s Day and Father’s Day may go some way to recognising the diversity of families which operate in schools rather than producing them through a mum/dad lens, however is by no means without complexity. For instance, in 2017, an Australian school cancelled a Mother’s Day stall with the intention to later celebrate UN International Day of Families as “a more inclusive way of celebrating the richness, diversity and complexity of living and loving as a family in the modern world” (Lyon, 2017, p.1). This decision was reported to have been reversed following concerns expressed by parents and outrage on social media about the Mother’s Day stall being cancelled (Darvall, 2017; Urban, 2017). This story demonstrates the complexities schools face in attempting to create spaces which reflect and celebrate the social reality of family structures. In addition to considerations about
Mother’s Day and Father’ Day, it is important for schools to consider how schooling practices include and exclude particular families. For instance, in the analysis chapters
I spoke of a Dad’s Coffee Hour with the principal at one particular school, which excluded families where there was no father. It is essential that schools critically
Chapter 8: “I Don't Feel Like I Should Have To Ask Permission For My Family Just To Be My Family”: Implications and Conclusions 339
reflect on who they are excluding through policy, practice and decision-making, and to interrogate the underlying assumptions and discourses which inform these decisions.
Lastly, there needs to be a focus on systemically addressing the silencing and invisibility in schools of GSD parented families. This research suggests that schools are often, but not always, able to consider the needs of GSD parented families at an individual level. However, GSD inclusion is less apparent at a broad, systemic level.
This focus on the individual or individual family reflects neoliberalism and there are no easy answers as to how to interrupt the focus on the individual. However, I do note this as an area of important consideration.
A Final Comment
GSD parented families in Australia have raised their children, over many years, within a context of broader social tensions about same-sex marriage, concerns about
GSD family structures, anxieties about recognition of gender diversity, and worries about the inclusion of GSD knowledges within schooling environments. Within this context, nuclear families have regularly been positioned as normal, ‘correct’ and ideal and, in relation, GSD parented families have been positioned as inferior and harmful to children. As schools do not operate in a social vacuum, normative notions of family, gender, and sexuality are also evident within educational contexts. With this in mind, this thesis has reported on the experiences of GSD parents in the context of primary schools. I have argued that families are often (re)produced through a normative nuclear lens in schooling contexts, erasing and suppressing the diversity of families that navigate school sites. Further, I have claimed that when families are not recognised in their diversity - invisibility and hypervisibility can result. This can create labour for GSD parented families that may impact their experiences in engaging with schools. However, if schools are motivated by a desire to recognise diversity, this can
Chapter 8: “I Don't Feel Like I Should Have To Ask Permission For My Family Just To Be My Family”: Implications and Conclusions 340
create a space in which norms may be critically examined and new ways of thinking opened up. Such spaces open up possibility for the recognition of GSD families in schools.
This research project has demonstrated that it is important schools recognise all families, not just those that fit into a cisnormative and heteronormative nuclear frame.
This thesis provides another step forward in interrupting hegemonic constructions of the ideal family to show that there are many diverse families navigating schools, each of which is worthy of recognition and inclusion. I draw on Averie’s words here to demonstrate the importance of recognising diverse families in schools, in contrast to silence and invisibility:
What I’ve found is the government isn’t out to protect us, the schools aren’t out to
protect us, we’re on our own… at the end of the day that’s what it is and yeah it’s
hard but what I find really interesting is this assumption that if you don’t talk about
it you’re not hurting anybody. Well let me tell you, the government and the
school’s decision to consistently not talk about it hurts my family. Let’s not be
naive about that. The decision to not equip staff to support the kids of [diverse]
families is a failure on the school’s part… For me there’s no innocence here. Every
decision by the government is a choice and the decisions that they’re making are
constantly privileging certain families and harming other families. (Averie)
An important aspect of this study is that it showed GSD parented families are diverse and by no means a homogenous group. They had their worries about issues, they let other things go; they cared about their children’s experiences of schooling. For some, academic outcomes were important and for others this was less important, with friendships or space to play taking greater focus. They were GSD parents, but they were also parents, volunteers, advocates; they were couple parents, divorced parents, busy,
Chapter 8: “I Don't Feel Like I Should Have To Ask Permission For My Family Just To Be My Family”: Implications and Conclusions 341
working, at-home parents, and so on. There is no one size fits all here and the many intersections within families mean that schools need to approach GSD families as diverse – just as they would all their families.
Chapter 8: “I Don't Feel Like I Should Have To Ask Permission For My Family Just To Be My Family”: Implications and Conclusions 342
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Appendices
Appendix A
Timeline of Events
This appendix provides a timeline of significant events/dates to provide context for this study. This timeline provides clarity regarding the timing of interviews amongst other events. Further, it provides insight into the granting and removal of rights for GSD persons over time. Notably, the timeline also demonstrates rights in Queensland that have been granted only very recently. This timeline provides context for both the methodology chapter and Chapter 5.
When What
1969 The Stonewall Riots marked the beginning of the gay liberation movement.
1973 The American Psychiatric Association (APA) removed homosexuality from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM).
1975 The first state in Australia decriminalises male acts of homosexuality. This state is South Australia.
1978 The first Australian Mardi Gras was held in Sydney. Fifty-three people are arrested and beaten for marching in the event.
1990 Queensland decriminalises male acts of homosexuality, the second- last state in Australia to do so.
1992 The ban on homosexual persons serving in the military is lifted by the Australian Federal Government.
1997 Tasmania decriminalises male acts of homosexuality in Australia. They are the last state in Australia to do so.
2002 Western Australia the first state to legally allow same-sex couples to adopt in Australia.
2004 The Australian Federal Government amends the Marriage Act to define it as the “union of a man and a woman to the exclusion of all others, voluntarily entered into for life”, excluding same-sex couples from marriage. Further, the government decides to refuse paperwork to same-sex couples that would allow same-sex couples to marry overseas. This means that same-sex couples can no longer marry overseas, and those same-sex couples who have married overseas will not have their marriages recognised in Australia.
2004 The first Bill is introduced to parliament seeking to permit same-sex couples to marry.
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2009 The Australian Federal Government introduces 85 amendments to Commonwealth laws to remove discrimination against same-sex couples in relation to family law, social security and areas of finance.
2011 The Australian Federal Government passes legislation relating to passports and gender, allowing transgender persons to choose gender without medical intervention and providing an ‘x’ option for gender on passports. Guidelines regarding this change are introduced in 2013.
2011 The Queensland State Government (Labor) introduced civil unions legislation, allowing same-sex couples to enter into a legally recognised civil partnership.
2012 The new Queensland State Government (LNP) repeals the civil union legislation introduced in 2011, effectively denying same-sex couples the right to enter into a legally recognised civil partnership. Further, the state government proposes to prevent gay couples from engaging in surrogacy arrangements, linking a three year jail term to the offence. The proposal does not go ahead.
2012 The Federal Government begins issuing same-sex couples ‘Certificates of No Impediment to Marriage’. This allows same-sex couples to marry overseas, however, their marriage will still not be recognised in Australia.
2012 The Senate urges all Australian states/territories to “enact legislation that expressly purges convictions imposed on people prior to the decriminalisation of homosexual conduct” (Queensland Law Reform Commission, 2016). Queensland does not enact such legislation until some five years later, in October, 2017.
2013 The Sex Discrimination Act is amended to make discrimination against LGBTIQ+ persons unlawful. However, religious hospitals and schools have an exemption from anti-discrimination laws against GSD persons.
2013 The Australian Capital Territory (ACT) becomes the first state/territory in Australia to allow transgender persons to alter their sex on a birth certificate without medical intervention. Note: In Queensland, transgender persons are required to undergo surgery before a change to sex on their birth certificate can be made.
June,2015 Same-sex marriage passed in the United States of America.
August, In response to increasing pressure to introduce same-sex marriage in 2015 Australia, Prime Minister Tony Abbott announces the LNP’s intention to hold a “people’s vote” to decide on same-sex marriage, through a national plebiscite.
August, A media uproar unfolds over the intended showing of Gayby Baby, a 2015 film following four youths with same-sex parents, in a NSW high school as a part of Wear it Purple Day celebrations. The NSW Minister for Education issues a directive on DATE that schools are not to show the film in its entirety during school hours.
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November, Safe Schools Coalition Australia (SSCA) launches the federally 2015 funded All of Us resource to assist schools in creating “safe and supportive environments” for LGBTIQ+ students, staff, and families.
February, Moral panic (public, politicians and media) about Safe Schools 2016 Australia (SSCA) unfolds. SSCA researchers receive threats and abuse from the public over the initiative. The Education Minister initially supported SSCA and the All of Us resource, however Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull directed a review to be undertaken. Federal Funding for the program was not renewed, and ceased in September 2017.
September, Queensland becomes last state/territory to equalise age of consent 2016 laws between vaginal and anal sex to 16. Previously, the age of consent for anal sex was 18.
October, Queensland becomes the last state/territory in Australia to remove sex 2016 identifiers from Driver’s Licences. This change brought Queensland into line with amendments made in 2013 to the Commonwealth Sex Discrimination Act 1984.
November, The Australian Federal Government’s bill to hold a public vote on 2016 same-sex marriage via plebiscite voted down by the Senate. The plebiscite is, therefore, not allowed to go ahead.
November, The Queensland State Government legalises same-sex adoption, the 2016 6th state/territory (out of 8 state/territories) to do so. Western Australia had been the first in 2002 and Northern Territory the last, in 2018.
May, 2017 Interviews for this project began.
August, The Australian Federal Government under Prime Minister Malcolm 2017 Turnbull announces that a public vote will occur on same-sex marriage via a non-binding, non-compulsory, postal vote.
August, Interviews for this project ceased. 2017
October, The Queensland State Government passes legislation to expunge 2017 historical criminal records for engaging in homosexual sex acts prior to the decriminalisation of homosexuality in Queensland.
November, Results of plebiscite announced: 2017 79.5% of registered voters participated (16,006,180) 61.6% of these votes – YES (7,817,247) 38.4% of these votes – NO (4,873,987)
December, After 22 unsuccessful Bills seeking to allow same-sex marriage in 2017 Australia, The Marriage Act is changed to allow two persons, regardless of gender, to marry. Thus, same-sex marriage is passed.
December, Religious Freedom Review begins (Data collected between 2017 December, 2017 and March, 2018). The report and recommendations are delivered to the Prime Minister in May, 2017.
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January, Media furore about Queensland changing licences to remove gender 2018 markers. However, this change was made in 2016.
June, 2018 Queensland Parliament passes legislation to allow transgender persons to officially change their gender without having to first divorce their spouse. (Note: surgery requirement remains).
September, Prime Minister Scott Morrison states that the material within Safe 2018 Schools makes his skin crawl and one of the reasons he sends his children to a private school is to ensure this kind of content is not taught to his children.
September, Prime Minister Scott Morrison retweets a Daily Telegraph article 2018 about gender diversity in schools with the comment, “We do not need ‘gender whisperers’ in our schools. Let kids be kids” (Morrison, 2018).
October, Religious Review Recommendations leaked. Public uproar over 2018 recommendations to allow schools to expel children from schools on the basis of gender or sexual identity. However, this is already allowed under exemptions to anti-discrimination laws for religious schools and hospitals.
October, Prime Minister Scott Morrison promises that he will ensure laws do 2018 not allow students to be expelled on the basis of gender or sexual identity, however this matter is instead referred to the Australian Law Reform Commission.
April, 2019 Tasmania becomes the first State to pass amendments for the Births, Deaths, and Marriages Registration Act to allow change of gender on birth certificates by submission of statutory declaration. The legislation also allows people over 16 to independently apply to change their gender. Parents can also request no gender marker for a child. These changes reflect recommendations within the Yogyakarta +10.
November, The Queensland Labor State Government announced that it would 2019 introduce legislation to make conversion therapy on the basis of gender or sexual orientation illegal in Queensland. This move was based on recommendations from medical and human rights bodies.
January, Concerns are expressed about the unintended consequences of 2020 Queensland Government moves to ban conversion therapy from religious groups and the Queensland Law Society.
Morrison, S. (2018, September 5). We do not need ‘gender whisperers’ in our schools. Let kids be kids. [Tweet] Retrieved from https://twitter.com/scottmorrisonmp/status/1037100764294836224?lang=en Queensland Law Reform Commission. (2016). Review of expunging of criminal convictions for historical gay sex offences (WP No. 74). Retrieved from: https://www.qlrc.qld.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0003/457905/qlrc-wp-74- web.pdf
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Appendix B
Interview Guide and Prompts
1) So, how many kids do you have in school at the moment? What grade are they in? Do they attend a state school or a private school? 2) How did you go about deciding which school your children would attend? What was important to you in that? 3) Can you tell me about the enrolment experience from your point of view? 4) Can you tell me about those early days and your early relationship with the school and school community? 5) I’m interested in the experiences of LGBTQ+ parents in primary schools. Have you got any stories or experiences that tell me about that? 6) Has your family had some positive experiences here that you can tell me about? 7) Has your family encountered any challenges as a part of the school community? 8) What’s important to you with regard to your child’s schooling? 9) How does the school communicate with you and encourage your involvement? What works/ Is there anything you’d like them to do differently? 10) Wrap up: How’s it been for you as a LGBTQ+-parented family? Is there anything else you’d like to share? 11) Are there any other questions that I haven’t covered that you think are important to include in this study? Why? Your experiences in these areas?
Appendices 397
Appendix C
Yarning Map
I created a yarning map as an interview tool. This map drew on concepts from the literature review and broader contextual aspects and provides a map of possibilities regarding interview data. This interview tool is an Indigenous research method created by Dawn Bessarab, and assists the researcher in exploring concepts more deeply, by asking more questions when they arise in the interview. This map does not limit exploring other concepts that arise, nor is it a checklist that needs to be ticked off, rather it provides a tool for the researcher to listen and drill down into particular concepts that have arisen as important in background reading.
Appendices 398
Appendix D
Participant Information Form
This is the participant information form sent to parents who contacted me regarding interest in the project. I note that the decision to use the initialism LGBTQ+ had not been made as yet, thus the form uses LGBTQ.
PARTICIPANT INFORMATION FOR QUT RESEARCH PROJECT – Interview –
Experiences of same-sex attracted and gender diverse parents in primary schools
QUT Ethics Approval Number 1700000209
RESEARCH TEAM Principal Researcher: Michelle Jeffries PhD student Associate Researchers: Dr Lyndal O’Gorman Principal Supervisor Professor Annette Woods Associate Supervisor Faculty of Education Queensland University of Technology (QUT)
DESCRIPTION This project is being undertaken as part of a PhD study for Michelle Jeffries under the supervision of QUT. I belong to the LGBTIQ community and bring to this project a passion for education, children and families, and equality and fairness for minority groups. I taught in state primary schools for more than ten years in both Brisbane and remote north-west Queensland and so bring to this project an understanding of some of the challenges faced by LGBTIQ people in schools and in the broader community.
The purpose of this project is to provide new knowledge about the experiences of same-sex attracted and gender diverse parents in primary schools. I am interested in narratives about both the challenging and positive experiences of same-sex attracted and gender diverse parents in their children’s primary schools, as well as hearing about how you would like schooling spaces for diverse families to be. The project involves interviewing a number of same-sex attracted and gender diverse parents and I would be very excited to have the opportunity to talk with you to better understand some of the experiences of same-sex attracted and gender diverse parents as they navigate primary school spaces.
You are invited to participate in this project because you are a same-sex attracted and/or gender diverse parent with a child or children currently (or recently) attending a Queensland primary school.
Appendices 399
PARTICIPATION Your participation will involve an audio recorded interview that will take approximately one hour of your time. It is not possible to participate without being audio recorded so it is important to consider if you are comfortable with this in deciding whether you’d like to take part in the project. If you live within 150 km of Brisbane, the interview will take place at your home or other agreed location. If you live further than 150 km from Brisbane, you can do the interview using Skype, Zoom, or telephone.
The interview will be conversational in style, formed around several prompts. Prompts will include: x Has your family had some positive experiences with your child’s school that you can tell me about? x Has your family encountered any challenges as a part of the school community? x What’s important to you with regard to your child’s schooling?
Your participation in this project is entirely voluntary. If you do agree to participate you can withdraw from the project without comment or penalty. You can withdraw anytime during the interview by requesting that the audio recorder be switched off. If you withdraw within 4 weeks after your interview, on request any identifiable information already obtained from you can be destroyed at your request.
Your decision to participate or not participate will in no way impact upon your current or future relationship with QUT, or me, or the organisation you were recruited through.
EXPECTED BENEFITS It is not expected that this project will benefit you directly, although you may enjoy speaking about your experience of primary school as a parent with an interested person. It is hoped that the project may benefit same-sex attracted and gender diverse parents generally as the purpose is to generate greater understanding of the experiences that same-sex attracted and gender diverse parents have with their children’s schools. Additionally, it may benefit school communities and those involved in education policy in developing strategies and policies that support same-sex attracted and gender diverse parents and their children in schools.
To recognise your contribution should you choose to participate, the research team will give your family a children’s book that positively represents sexuality diverse families, same-sex couples, or gender diversity. Examples include: And Tango Makes Three, Goblinheart, Heather Has Two Mommies, King and King, 10,000 Dresses, and The Different Dragon. This is offered as a thank you gift to recognize your time and willingness to be involved.
RISKS There are minimal risks associated with your participation in this project. You will be giving up some of your time. To address this, the interview/s will be arranged at a time that is suitable to you.
Appendices 400
It is possible you will feel some discomfort produced by being asked questions about your experiences in schools. However, the focus at the interview is on your experiences as a parent of a child/children in primary school/s. Also, given that LGBTIQ persons in our community continue to be subject to discrimination in some spaces, it is acknowledged that there is a small possibility that difficult situations may be touched on during the interview process.
To minimise these risks, please note that there is no need to answer any questions that you do not wish to answer during interviews, and if you wish to stop audio recording during the interview you just need to ask and I will cease recording immediately. Additionally, I will call you within 1-3 days of the interview and you can ask me to delete anything you feel uncomfortable about from the interview transcript at this time. I will also de-identify data within interview transcripts.
QUT provides for limited free psychology, family therapy or counselling services (face- to-face only) for research participants of QUT projects who may experience discomfort or distress as a result of their participation in the research. Should you wish to access this service please call the Clinic Receptionist on 07 3138 0999 (Monday–Friday only 9am–5pm), QUT Psychology and Counselling Clinic, 44 Musk Avenue, Kelvin Grove, and indicate that you are a research participant.
QLife provides an LGBTIQ specific counselling service between 3 pm and midnight every day. To contact QLife, please call 1800 184 527, or alternatively this service provides an online chat option at http://qlife.org.au.
Alternatively, Lifeline provides access to online, phone or face-to-face support, call 13 11 14 for 24 hour telephone crisis support. If you are less than 25, you can also call the Kids Helpline on 1800 551 800.
PRIVACY AND CONFIDENTIALITY All comments and responses will be treated confidentially unless required by law. The names of individual persons or places are not required in any of the responses you give.
As the project involves an audio recording: x The audio recording will be transcribed and de-identified. x The audio recording will be destroyed 5 years after the last publication of the study. x The audio recording will not be used for any other purpose. x Only the named researchers will have access to the audio recording. x It is not possible to participate in the project without being audio recorded.
Any data collected as part of this project will be stored securely as per QUT’s Management of research data policy. This data may be used for comparative purposes in future research by the researcher.
Appendices 401
CONSENT TO PARTICIPATE We would like to ask you to sign a written consent form (enclosed) to confirm your agreement to participate.
QUESTIONS / FURTHER INFORMATION ABOUT THE PROJECT If you have any questions or require further information please contact one of the researchers listed below.
Michelle Jeffries [email protected] 07 3138 5963 Lyndal O’Gorman [email protected] 07 3138 3621 Annette Woods [email protected] 07 3138 3184
CONCERNS / COMPLAINTS REGARDING THE CONDUCT OF THE PROJECT QUT is committed to research integrity and the ethical conduct of research projects. However, if you do have any concerns or complaints about the ethical conduct of the project you may contact the QUT Research Ethics Advisory Team on 07 3138 5123 or email [email protected]. The QUT Research Ethics Advisory Team is not connected with the research project and can facilitate a resolution to your concern in an impartial manner.
THANK YOU FOR HELPING WITH THIS RESEARCH PROJECT. PLEASE KEEP THIS SHEET FOR YOUR INFORMATION.
Appendices 402
Appendix E
Categories for narrative table
As a step in data analysis, I created narrative tables. The narrative tables outlined narratives within particular bounded segments of text (See Figure 4.1 for an example). Narrative tables included a column called ‘category’. As I created each narrative table, I assigned multiple categories to each narrative. This assisted me later in looking at patterns, as well as finding examples of concepts I analysed.
Category Description
Forms/systems Narratives which referred to forms or systems. For instance, narratives about forms/permission slips printed with “mother’s name/father’s name” on them fitted into this category. Similarly, one participant spoke about systems recording only two parent names (which was inadequate for step-families). This, too, was recorded against the forms/systems category.
Awkward Narratives that included the term “awkward”. I found this word often represented a sense of hypervisibility and came up several times, so I initiated this category to easily find narratives containing this word.
Gender Narratives referring to concepts of gender. For instance, a narrative which talked about stereotypical constructions of gender at a Mother’s Day event was assigned this category. Similarly, narratives which talked about concepts of gender diversity, such as a story about a kindy child who did not identify with their assigned gender, were also labelled ‘gender’ accordingly.
Teacher Training Narratives referring to teaching training. Several participants talked about the importance of teachers being trained in concepts of gender diversity.
Teachers Narratives in which teachers were a character. For instance, one participant talked about a positive experience sharing his gender transition with the teacher.
Administration Narratives involving administration. One example relates to a parent’s narration of approaching the headmaster to discuss his gender transition.
Other school staff Narratives involving school staff that were not teachers or administrative staff. For instance, one couple told a story about a crossing guard assuming that a man nearby was the child’s father. She told the children to wait for their dad but one child had two mums and no dad, and the other child’s dad had died. This was assigned ‘other school
Appendices 403
staff’ among other categories, because it involved the school crossing guard.
Assumptions Narratives relating to assumptions about family. The above narrative was also assigned the category assumptions, as there was an assumption that the children had a dad. Similarly, narratives where assumptions were made about family structure, such as people asking about the children’s dad or assuming that same-sex partners were siblings also were assigned to the category of ‘assumptions’.
Language Narratives including notions of language. For instance, one participant talked about her child’s classmates not understanding that she had two mums. The child told classmates that she had a dad who had died in order to try and fit the norm. The parent spoke about equipping her child with language to manage such situation (e.g. donor). Further she talked about the importance of teachers understanding at least some basic language to handle these kinds of situations.
Skilling up children Narratives which reflected on skill building with children to help them handle particular situations. The above example (listed next to language) provides an example of skilling children with language.
Normal/normalising Narratives that included notions of normal/normalising. For instance, one participant talked about how she talked with teachers at the beginning of the year about the importance of talking about diverse families with students as she wanted to ensure their family was normalised in the classroom.
Labour Narratives which included concepts of work/labour. Participants may or may not mention labour for this category to be assigned. An example of labour is where one parent told a teacher many times about the way their family managed Father’s Day. The teacher continued to adhere to her own understanding of the way same-sex parents should do Father’s Day. This meant that the participant needed to work hard (by engaging in repeated conversations) to be heard and understood.
Representing Narratives which included concepts of representing community community. For instance, one participant spoke about being asked by someone in the community to speak on behalf of the community at a same-sex marriage rally. This narrative was also assigned to the category of ‘labour’ as this occurred around the time of the plebiscite
Appendices 404
and the participant expressed challenges around several experiences of needing to be a spokesperson.
Individualism Narratives which included neoliberal concepts of individualism. For instance, one participant talked about how the school was very accepting and supportive at an individual family level, but with regard to teaching concepts of gender and sexual diversity more systemically, there was little support.
School choice Narratives about school choice. I asked every participant about how they chose the school their children attended, so each participant had at least one narrative labelled school choice.
Disclosure Narratives which included concepts of disclosing one’s gender or sexual diversity to schools.
Sex Education Narratives which spoke of sex education. For instance, one participant spoke about talking with the sex education teacher about including concepts of diverse genders and sexualities within these classes, however, the teacher was focused on other areas and not willing to include this information.
Visibility/Invisibility/ Narratives which included concepts of visibility, Hypervisibility invisibility and/or hypervisibility. This concept came from the literature. There are several stories of visibility, invisibility and hypervisibility in Chapter 7.
Heteronormativity Narratives which reflect heteronormativity.
Traditional Narratives in which the characters or events have drawn constructions of on or reflect traditional constructions of family. family
Diverse family Narratives reflecting notions of diverse family structures. structures For instance, one narrative related to school administration asking a parent what their children call them, showing an understanding of diverse family structures.
Coming Out Narratives which include experiences or discussions about coming out. For instance, one parent shared about parent teacher nights and that each parent teacher night involved coming out to a new parent group with a variety of possible reactions.
Father’s Narratives which refer to Mother’s Day and/or Father’s Day/Mother’s Day Day. Every participant talked in some way about Mother’s Day/Father’s Day events at school.
Children Narratives which include the participant/s’ child/ren as characters within the story. For instance, two participants
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shared narratives where classmates asked their children about having two mums, not really understanding same- sex family structures.
Intersections of Narratives which included intersections of identity such as Identity race, gender, class.
Bullying/Harassment Narratives relating to bullying and harassment. One participant talked about how a classmate asked her child every single day about having two mums and this verged on harassment for her.
Religion Narratives which included concepts of religion. For instance, one participant shared a narrative about talking with the principal regarding Religious Instruction and messages that might be delivered to children in the leadup to the plebiscite.
Resistance Narratives of resistance.
Educating others Narratives which involved educating others. Several parents took an approach of active visibility within the schooling space, educating teachers about their family, language and the importance of representing diverse family structures.
Outside of school Narratives relating to experiences outside of school. One example relates to a participant who shared a story about someone at the swimming pool asking about the children’s dad (the children have two mums). This was also marked with categories such as ‘assumptions’ and ‘traditional constructions of family’
Other parents/ Narratives which included other parents/caregivers/people caregivers in the school community as characters. For instance, one parent shared a narrative about another parent asking a lot about the roles she and her wife shared. The parent didn’t quite understand how their family would function and the story reflected conceptions of roles based on male/female genders.
School-family Narratives which included aspects of family relationships/ relationships/parent engagement. For instance, one parent participant spoke about the garden and cooking programs engagement the school enacted for parent engagement.
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Appendix F
Description/examples of categories for coding
(Expanded version of Table 5.2)
In Chapter 5, Section “Delving into the discourses of the nuclear as natural, normal and ideal (2012)”, I explained that in 2012, a Senate Inquiry was established relating to Senator Hanson-Young's Marriage Equality Amendment Bill 2010. The inquiry sought the views of the public on the issue of marriage equality. The inquiry received 79,200 submissions from the public. Of all submissions, 360 were published on the Senate website, representing a cross-section of views across all submissions. I specifically undertook analysis of the 174 published submissions opposing same-sex marriage.
The analysis began with a broad pass of the data in which I examined submissions opposing the Bill to derive conceptual categories using an inductive approach. I then coded the submissions according to these categories, adding further categories where necessary, and using separate colours for each. Coded segments of text were then placed into a table, with a different column for each category.
Significantly, 84.5% of published submissions in the data set expressing opposition to same- sex marriage included arguments on the basis of normative conceptions of family, demonstrating the pervasiveness of normative family discourses in such debates.
Below is an expanded version of the Table 5.2, showing each category, a description of the category, and example. (In Chapter 5, Table 5.2 outlines the category name and description, but does not include an example of each category).
Category Description Example
Normative Arguments grounded in the “Marriage has always only described conceptions of importance of marriage permanent and exclusive heterosexual remaining between a man and relationships. This is because marriage is, family a woman because this forms by its very nature, the kind of relationship the building block of family - which is deeply and uniquely oriented to thus, drawing on normative bearing and rearing children. Two men or conceptions of family. two women cannot participate in marriage because their union lacks an essential and natural orientation to children.” (Submission 208) Religious Arguments against the Bill on “It is abundantly clear that God is not silent Values/ the basis of religious about homosexuality. He has made very values/religion . clear what He thinks of it. It is sinful and Religion offensive to Him. … I, along with many other Australians would be deeply ashamed, if in our generation, something as precious, God-ordained and central to humanity as Marriage, is polluted to include homosexual unions – which the Bible so clearly shows, are unnatural, and offensive to our Creator and our Judge.” (Submission 171)
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Category Description Example
Promiscuity/ Arguments against allowing “We simply do not tolerate some Non- SSA couples to marry on the behaviours, and homosexual marriage is one basis of a perceived that we should not tolerate. Why? Because, monogamy promiscuity, that is, that gay few homosexual couples remain couples cannot be monogamous; few homosexual couples monogamous. Within this remain in a stable relationship for any argument, marriage is appreciable length of time.” (Submission considered to be a 30) monogamous institution. Perceived high Opposition on the basis the “High risk lifestyles should not be given risk lifestyle government should not endorsement. Countless studies have promote a perceived high risk documented the high-risk and unhealthy lifestyle of SSA persons nature of the homosexual lifestyle. So why through recognition of same- should governments be endorsing and sex relationships. promoting such activity? Various studies show that homosexuals account for the majority of new cases of sexually transmitted diseases.” (Submission 19) Breakdown of Arguments about marriage as “Marriage forms the cornerstone of society, society/ the cornerstone of a by forming small communities, which in society/moral society and turn form parts of the larger community. morals/values thus allowing same-sex The destabilisation of our Australian society marriage would lead to a has already begun… The attempt to legalise breakdown of same-sex marriage is yet another step society/morals/values. towards this destabilisation.” (Submission 43) “Under the guise of ‘equality’ redefining would instead bring breakdown; A breakdown of what is morally right, a breakdown of family and breakdown of protection for children. Then further to that, a breakdown of our Australian society and way of life.” (Submission 01) Education Opposition on the basis that “With the legalization of homosexual same-sex marriage would marriage, every public school in the nation mean changes to what is will be required to teach that this perversion taught in school. is the moral equivalent of traditional In 2017, this was a dominant marriage between a man and a woman. discourse in arguments Textbooks, even in conservative states, will opposing same-sex marriage. have to depict man/man and woman/woman It is worth noting that, relationships, and stories written for comparatively, this argument children as young as elementary school, or was used minimally amongst even kindergarten, will have to give equal submissions in 2012 space to homosexuals.” (Submission 37) Childhood-as- Opposition on the basis of “If such people wish to have these innocence concerns about childhood relationships, we would prefer them to be innocence/vulnerability. conducted in private. This reduces the risk of exposure to small children, already subjected to enough drama and confusion in life.” (Submission 27)
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Category Description Example
Slippery slope Opposition on the basis of “If we consider, hypothetically, that SSM slippery slope arguments, that was to be legalized because of perceived is, if same-sex marriage is discrimination against same-sex couples, allowed, this will lead to how long will it be before the charge of other forms of marriage discrimination is levelled by those arguing currently excluded. for ‘marriage’ between the following: A bi-sexual person who wishes to ‘marry’ two partners of opposite gender. A man who wishes to ‘marry’ a number of women - polygamy. A woman who wishes to ‘marry’ a number of men - polyandry. A group of people who wish to ‘marry’ - polyamory. A person who wishes to ‘marry’ a close relative - incest. A person who wishes to ‘marry’ an animal - bestiality. A person who wishes to ‘marry’ an inanimate object. Or, indeed, combinations of all of the above.” (Submission 186) SSA people Arguments against notions “Removing disadvantage against same-sex are not that same-sex couples are couples is exactly what Federal discriminated parliament achieved in 2008. Over 80 pieces disadvantaged/ against/disadvantaged. i.e. A of legislation were amended, with discriminated view that same-sex couples bipartisan support, which removed against already have equality. disadvantage on practical matters like superannuation and next-of-kin status.” (Submission 12)
Discrimination Argument reversing notions “This is just a misguided attempt to force, against those of same-sex marriage as by an Act of Parliament, an enormous shift redressing discrimination by in culture and beliefs which can only who disagree stating that allowing same- ultimately lead to further social division - with marriage sex marriage discriminates and ultimately bring additional equality (or will lead to discrimination against those of us who discrimination) against those continue to hold to a traditional view of who believe that marriage is marriage.” between a man and a woman. Laws / Argument that institutions “Are we really willing to risk the institutions that fit the majority of society cornerstone of what has so successfully built should not be changed on the our society because of the outcry of less shouldn’t basis of a minority group. than 2% of Australian homosexuals who are change Often mentions “noisy crying out for their equal status?... I believe because of a activists” it to be a monumental derelict of duty for minority any Government to be compromising the value of marriage and family for the sake of appeasing a minority group.” (Submission 43)
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