Hello reading companions,
I went a bit rogue with a field experiment recently.
My daughter has been aching to try independence on for size, out and about in the real world, without the restriction of an adult in tow. Days at home have been full of imaginative games, mimicking the way grown-ups interact with places, spaces and faces. The quiet corners of her room transform — libraries, flower market stalls, or tourist buses — always vividly and adorably.
She turned five this month, so it seemed a fitting opportunity to let her practise something new. With a bunny-eared bag filled with coins, and her bright pink walkie-talkie in hand, we sent her off to the shops with a small list of things to buy, completely solo. Navigating the aisles was one thing, avoiding sugar distractions was another. Fear not, parents were right outside the local store waiting for updates and interpreting incoming questions. ‘How are you going, Audrey?’ we’d radio over. ‘Can’t talk. Concentrating.’ Her replies came through like automated emails from Boss Baby headquarters. Worst case scenario, she would emerge with sweet treats and wild confidence to take over dinner plans. But, much to our surprise, she was so focused on proving her capability, she marched out with just the items on her list and the pride of mission accomplished. It was a delightful sight.
I must admit, there are moments of remorse now that radio is the preferred method of communication in our house, but it’s had me thinking. We can’t experiment very well under stress, and this isn’t a revelation reserved for early childhood development.
Safety and stability provide nourishing conditions for courage.
As social beings, we want to feel steady in our relationships and surroundings, alongside that almighty temptation to act upon curiosity or wonder. We have an ever-present need to fulfil both security and freedom.
I’ve seen this tension play out in many scenarios, and more so when people are required to try something they’ve never done before. Workshops, focus groups, community consultation, a new journal article or reading. Unspoken questions emerge, like throwing seeds into the wind. What can I expect? Is it really safe to try something different? Who holds the power and privilege, here? How might we stay accountable when things get messy? What does support look like? And ultimately, are there options to radio a trusted companion when you feel overwhelmed or unsure?
Reassure me, then tempt me, some might say.
And that’s exactly the sentiment of this newsletter. I want to hold space for contemplative ideas, without intimidating analysis or data. I want to quietly tempt your inner nerd into the realm of social studies, so you can feel a little more curious about the human condition. I want this to be the safe ground for thought experiments, to sustain better conversations. So here goes.
A regular rhythm for Field Notes, less trepidation (from me) about the shift between researcher and writer, and more conditions for courage.
Stay curious, stay tender.
Readings and other things
I’m intrigued by writing and explorations that honour the beauty in rage. Like a living, breathing work of art akin to Rachel Cusk novels, Haylee Collins’ publication HOWL is devoted to this inquiry. With articles and interviews, art and collaborations, it’s a clever indie mag bending and breaking assumptions about motherhood — I think it’s brilliant.
When I tire of navigating conversations, there are always small provocative everyday moments. My mornings just aren’t the same without a cup of tea in one of Frosina’s PINKSOY mugs, and you bet I’ve gifted glazed nipples to my fellow feminist friends. I also find a special kind of thrill joining zoom meetings, sipping from ceramic breasts.
Fiction is such a clever thought container, where subjectivity, experience, and storytelling collide. I’m exploring gender studies at the moment, so I love delving into important issues with human (flawed) characters. This month, I read Oh, Sister by Jodie Chapman, A Language of Limbs by Dylin Hardcastle, and Cherry Beach by Laura McPhee Browne — I’d recommend them all.
Gardening might not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think about courage. But if you consider the pace at which we’re often convinced to move at, growing vegetables is one of the ultimate ways to be useless to capitalism. As soon as I put down Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower, I stocked up on seeds, found a plot at a local community garden and instantly felt better for it. Now we’ll have enough strawberries, peas and cucumbers for our own Earthseed..
Field Notes essay
This weeks’ subscriber essay is about language as a social action. It’s part of a broader dialogue about truth-telling and decolonising ways of thinking in Australia, while stepping into courage to alleviate the cultural load borne by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people.
Considering field work?
For contributions and editorial that distills research for everyday reading, I invite you to connect — let’s explore the possibility of sense-making, together.
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Fellow reader, I see you, and your curiosity for tenderness. Let this be the beginning of a conversation and consider passing on a Field Notes article.