and ain't a woman: Sex(ism) and the city
In May, the Finance Sector Union (FSU) lodged a complaint with the Human Rights and Equal Opportunities Commission against the ANZ bank because it had decided to cut the hours of its part-time workers.
The union claimed the ANZ's action was indirect discrimination against women, since 90% of its 6000 part-time workers are women. The case is the largest sex discrimination case in Australian history.
According to the FSU, members report that part-time workers are being bullied into reducing their hours as a cost-cutting measure. The cuts are unnecessary as ANZ expects a record profit this year of $1.7 billion.
This example illustrates the vulnerability of women's participation in the work force, particularly when women are also expected to take on the main burden of child-care (51% of women in the finance sector have children).
Women in the finance sector are affected by informal gender segregation of work areas, disproportionate representation in part-time and casual work, inequitable remuneration systems, differences in training and qualifications, and differences in superannuation.
About 57% of workers in the finance sector are women, 74% of whom are employed in clerical, sales and service occupations. Only 13% have a bachelor degree or higher and 28% have post-school qualifications. For male finance workers, 28% have bachelor degree qualifications and 47% have post-school qualifications.
Most men in the sector earn $800-$999 a week, only 6% earn less than $399 per week and 16% earn more than $1500. Most women earn $400-$499, 31% earn less than $399 per week and just 2% earn $1500 or more.
The broad statistics fail to express the individual injustices women in the finance industry experience: the "glass ceiling" a woman hit after she trained everybody in her department, did half of the manager's job but was continually passed over for promotion; or "the collapsing floor" beneath a woman who found herself demoted after returning from parental leave ("You're lucky to even have a job", her manager told her); or the woman whose work performance was called into question when she asked a human resource manager to take action against sexual harassment; or the woman who was denied long-service leave to look after her invalid mother. The list goes on.
There are also more subtle things that reduce women's expectations.
I worked as a union organiser in the finance sector in Sydney's CBD last year. Before then, I had never thought seriously about the "vibe" of a "space" and the idea that tall shiny buildings are giant phallic symbols. But there is a lot about the CBD which adds to the impression that the role of a woman in the work force and society is secondary to that of men.
At around 8am in the CBD, many well-groomed women in suits and skirts can be seen walking swiftly to work. On their feet are sneakers, but in their bags are the less comfortable shoes they will wear all day at work.
Along the streets, at the newsstands and in the railway stations, they pass billboards depicting the larger than life images of svelte, "perfectly" shaped, youthful, sexually available women scantily packaged in swim suits, lingerie or electrical tape. At work they become "girls".
In 10 months of visiting finance sector companies I met one male receptionist. Another time, I thought I had met a second one, but the guy was quick to explain that "of course" he wasn't the receptionist.
BY ALANA KERR