The bourgeois, enslaved by social conditions and the prejudices involved in them, trembles, blesses, and crosses himself before everything which really paves the way for progress; the proletarian has open eyes for it, and studies it with pleasure and success.

Engels

Artistic and creative activity has never been restricted to the middle and upper classes. Australian working class voices have been present since invasion. A long list includes the protest verse of convicts, ballads of migrant women’s working life, lyrics of popular songs from Jimmy Barnes or Archie Roach, the deeply political poetry of Aboriginal poets, performance poetry and spoken word in urban pubs, stories of hardship on the land in the bush tradition, prison poetry, union songs, hip hop rhymes, and page poetry dealing with working class experience.

By contrast it seems as though working class voices have all but disappeared from the literary scene. This becomes apparent when flicking through recent editions of mainstream journals and anthologies, selections of poets chosen for festival programs, major poetry prize-winners and so on. It seems odd that creative expression that has its roots in popular form could have become so far removed from the lives and experiences of the majority of Australians. Poetry in Australia seems to belong to an elite, privileged through background and education and who write poetry that is often esoteric and difficult for the many who do not share their world of erudite references.

But maybe the answer is straightforward; there just aren’t any poets writing about working class experience. After all, class is not a big issue in Australia and the idea that a working class exists at all is an old-fashioned notion perpetuated by tired Marxists. But I’m not going to get into a sociological debate about class. If you truly believe that class isn’t an issue, maybe you should visit the western suburbs of Sydney or Melbourne and chat to some of the residents about whether they feel they’re living in a class-free society. But even if we agree that there is an Australian working class, it doesn’t necessarily follow that there’s a body of poetry that can be claimed as ‘working class poetry’.

The most common reaction I receive when I mention working class poetry is a suggestion that there can’t be much of it around as people haven’t seen it in the usual places. Names of poets writing about working class experience are usually greeted with surprise. There is enough contemporary working class poetry to consider as a body of work, and to warrant attention from both the literary and academic worlds. In terms of a definition, working class poetry is poetry written by, about or for the working class[1], and reflects the experiences and diversity of working class culture. The working class is not homogenous and the voices are varied. The traditional Anglo-Celtic, predominantly male, blue-collar version of the working class still exists. But to focus on this group is to exclude many others. There are various identity issues tied up with class, and it’s important to represent the many groups whose experiences of working class culture will vary. There is the migrant or ethnic working class, those who are from non-English-speaking backgrounds and who identify with a specific ethnic group, whether it be Greek, Lebanese, Vietnamese and so on. Women, who make up more than half of the working class, and who are often among the poorest members of the community as they find it difficult to obtain full-time, permanent work due to the added responsibilities of child care, and the further hardship faced by women who are sole parents; Aboriginal people who are over represented among the working class and underclass, and whose experiences of daily struggle are testament to the class inequalities within this country. Working class gays and lesbians can find themselves marginalised from the wider queer community. And maybe surprisingly for many, it is possible to find poetry that is written by, and deals with, the many aspects of culture experienced by these different groups.

If the poetry is being produced, why isn’t it getting published and heard? Why can’t we read working class poetry in the pages of Southerly or Meanjin? Where are the anthologies of working class poetry;[2] the panels or readings at festivals; the academic discourse; the literature courses that include working class poetry?[3] Why is it ignored? A variety of factors have led to its exclusion from the literary and academic mainstream; the main one is that these establishments are operated by the middle class. It’s no conspiracy theory, just fact — the editors, publishers, festival directors and literary academics are mainly middle class, and it follows that the poetry they select and support is influenced by their middle class values. And despite well-meaning intentions, middle class values can be restricting and lead to exclusions. The middle class notion of ‘quality’ in poetry is often far removed from the qualities inherent in working class poetry.[4] Middle class poetry is characterised by its use of lyricism, figurative language, metaphor, Latinate language, imagism, esoteric references to Classical, literary or fine art elements and the use of ‘standard’ English.[5] Not to say that middle class poetry isn’t varied. There are language poems, landscape idyllic poems, deeply internalised poems, poems that deal with abstract notions such as ‘truth’ or ‘beauty’, whimsical poems on the vagaries of urban life, surreal dream-like poems, political poems that look at other parts of the world and highlight some of the atrocities inflicted on humans or the environment the list goes on. But they very rarely concern themselves with the daily lives and experiences of the working class or underclass those who make up the majority of Australia’s population.

Working class poetry is often considered not to be poetry at all, because it is too political, or simplistic, reactionary, naïve in form, lacking in the qualities listed above, too focused on the ordinary or the unpleasant, unliterary, not art, not aesthetically pleasing — this list goes on too. Consequently, it is difficult for working class poetry to get published and be heard in the mainstream. In turn, the working class poet gives up trying to get her work accepted and chooses the sites she knows will offer her a better chance of getting heard, such as the journal Red Lamp, or readings in the local pub, or she may channel her poetry into song lyrics instead of aiming for the printed page. She becomes disillusioned with the literary scene and becomes part of the invisible force.

If working class poetry is a legitimate body of work, how can it be characterised? What is the working class poetic? While working class poetry is not homogenous and a variety of styles exist, there are some common characteristics that can assist in its identification. Working class poetry is often direct, written in a vernacular and may contain phonetic spellings of working class dialect. The musicality of working class speech often provides the natural rhythm and form of the poetry. There is a noticeable absence of heavy metaphor[6] and rarely any esoteric references, though there may be references to historical events that have impacted on the working class. There are also some common themes (which can jar with the middle class establishment), such as work, unemployment, poverty, violence, community, family, culture. People are generally the main focus of working class poetry and poems created from stories of the poet’s own experience or that of friends, family, neighbours and other members of their community tend to dominate. Much working class poetry demonstrates a social conscience and is written out of the experience of dealing with issues that aren’t very pretty.[7] This can shatter the comfortable, non-threatening image of the working class that the middle class establishment prefers — the noble uncomplaining rural worker in an idyllic rural setting in the tradition of Les Murray.[8] Often underlying working class poetry is a sense of dark humour that contrasts with the struggle being portrayed.

So who are these working class poets, and what does their poetry look like? You may have come across some of it in a fragmented fashion over the past couple of decades. If you’ve been a regular subscriber to some of the smaller journals such as Red Lamp or to those now defunct such as 925, you could possibly have read poems that deal with work or other aspects of working class life. Overland has published the occasional working class poem, as has Social Alternatives, Ulitarra, Hecate, Four W and Famous Reporter. As far as I can tell though, there are no working class poems in any of the contemporary mainstream anthologies, with the exception of the odd middle class poet writing about working class life.

Probably the best known contemporary working class poet in Australia today is Adelaide-based Geoff Goodfellow, who began to achieve success with his poetry in the late eighties and early nineties. He became known as the ‘builder poet’ or the ‘prison poet’ due to his choices of reading and workshop venues. Goodfellow’s work is predominantly concerned with the lives and experiences of the working class, mainly from the perspective of a white, male, blue-collar worker —although he also explores the way in which this type of working class person interacts with those who do not share his race, ethnicity or gender.

His poetry is confronting and is not afraid to deal with the less savoury aspects of working class life, such as violence, racism and sexism. His work pulls no punches and often leaves the reader reeling from hard-hitting portrayals. People are central to his work, and many of his poems tell the story of an individual or group of people in working class settings. Goodfellow gives voice to labourers, trades people, barmaids, cops, and the forgotten and dispossessed members of society, namely the unemployed, junkies, homeless and the mentally ill, allowing them to speak for themselves in their own language. And he makes effective use of the cadences of working class speech.

His style is pared back, creating a sense of direct experience for the reader, without stumbling over heavy poetic devices. There is a natural rhythm to his poems, which leads the reader through the story, occasionally pausing to allow for a particular image to hit home. These are well-crafted poems and the simplicity of each poem belies the time that has been invested in their drafting. There is little sense of sentimentality or romanticism in Goodfellow’s portrayal of the working class, just honesty and a desire to capture these lives authentically and accurately. He manages this task without passing judgement on the morals of some of the characters. He is using the medium of poetry to present life as it is — a medium that for centuries has been used as a tool for opening the minds of readers to situations and lives they may not have experienced first hand. Goodfellow is also aware of his responsibility to his working class readers and he reflects their lives and culture, providing a rare opportunity for working class readers to see themselves adequately represented in an art form that they have been alienated from.

The poem ‘An Old Bloke’ from his collection, Semi Madness: Voices from Semaphore provides a good example of poetry written directly from the experience and the voice of the underclass —in this case a young man suffering from mental illness. Through the character’s recounting of his experiences the poem highlights the inadequacy of the mental health system as the police are left to deal with the anti-social behaviour of the mentally ill in the face of limited health resources. In this poem it is clear that the police are not necessarily sympathetic to the needs of the mentally ill, and a group of people who can no longer rely on a place in hospital become further marginalised and abandoned by society:

chronic schizophrenia the shrink
           said …
had some Pink Rock in me pocket
           told ‘em it was lollies
but they knew i whacked it up me arm
           (they found a pick)

makes me think i can jump mountains
that stuff
           just love the rush —
& it stops the ducks and drakes
when i’m comin’ down …
that made ‘em squeeze
the bloody bracelets another notch …
it’s a hard life on the pension
for an old bloke
           of twenty eight

The tone of the monologue is light hearted but the problems faced by those left to self-medicate and manage their illness are very serious. The character’s speech leads to a free-flowing rhythm and the elements of slang used such as, ‘they found a pick’, ‘bloody bracelets’ and the rhyming slang of ‘ducks and drakes’ create evocative and ironic images.

The use of humour to juxtapose shocking situations is also managed effectively in ‘Just Like Pirates Had’, which deals with a culture of violence. The act of violence portrayed is extremely brutal, but the consequence of this assault is viewed as a trophy to be worn by the victim, as he has also played his part in the violent world of the pub. Again the language is colloquial working class, with words chosen carefully to recreate the story and characters convincingly.

They reckon
           it came out as easy as a first tooth
that afternoon
           in the pub at Semaphore
& two weeks later
in the same pub
           he’s half declared himself
a folk hero
reckons now
he’s gunna cop it sweet
the invalid pension
           better than the dole
‘cos you don’t have to front
the office each week

reckons he’ll kick a goal with
compo too
           heaps saw it

the other bloke just drove
two fingers straight in
           ripped it out
& stamped it
           into the front bar lino
so now
           he gets to wear
this real neat eye patch
just like pirates had.

Despite its nonchalance, the poem renders a violent world, where men are measured by their ability to use their fists, or to survive such an attack. Goodfellow is offering an insight into this aggressive and unpleasant aspect of working class culture, without making judgements or proscriptions. Readers are left with a conflicting set of possible reactions, from initial horror through to an uneasy sense of amusement at the character’s attitude toward his injury. Regardless, the reader is left with a definite sense that this event could have happened, as Goodfellow has allowed the characters to speak for themselves. 

Another poet writing from Adelaide is Mick Searles. His work delves into the world of the underclass in a gritty style, often dealing with drug culture and the destruction of life that often goes hand in hand with addiction. His poem ‘Hot Shots’ illustrates the despair of existing within a society that only views addicts as criminals and which is reluctant to acknowledge the human side of the problem:

HOTSHOTS

found dead
in the cross
crucified
from talking
to the cops
A life of lust
lust turns to rust
A time of power
a burnt out nose
A fix insane
blunt fits
in pain
Money for dope
no change for hope

This poem employs the language of the street in short snappy lines characteristic of hip hop. There is an irregular rhyme and words are carefully chosen for their alliterative qualities. Searles paints a bleak picture suggesting that this kind of incident will continue long after the reader has left the scene: “Another junkie’s/been murdered/Another life/Long/Deserted”. Searles’ poetry represents a youth culture abandoned by the rest of society and living on the fringe, with no immediate way out in sight. This world is in sharp contrast with the traditional working class culture of previous generations, where communities might have chipped in during difficult times. For the junkie or street kid there is no community or family to provide assistance once they have fallen this far.

The experience of working class women can be remarkably different from that of working class men. Women often have the added pressures of children and households to run and can be the lynchpin holding a family together. They often work in underpaid jobs and have little time for such luxuries as writing poetry. Their world is vastly different from that of middle class women and theories of feminism can appear to have little relevance to women who live and work daily within sexist environments and who may view feminism as rhetoric that has little practical application in improving their situation.[9] These women must develop their own strategies to survive in a patriarchal environment that usually pays little heed to the advances made by the women’s movement. Probably due to practical factors that limit the opportunities to find time to write, there appear to be fewer working class female poets currently writing than men. At times the world of working class poetry seems to be dominated by the masculine voice and it is vital that women’s perspectives be presented. Several of the working class women poets who were writing in the eighties have since disappeared from the scene and contact with them appears to be lost. One such poet is Caterina Passoni who featured in the magazine 925. Her poem ‘Varicose Story’ highlights hardships endured in unsatisfactory working conditions, and the difficulties faced by women in particular when trying to get their concerns aired and acted upon by both the bosses and unions:

I told them their cement floor
           turned my legs blue!
that is what the doctor told me.
The blue strings of pain
and the red drips on my calves
throbbed at the day’s end …
I went to the foreman, and told
           him their cement floor
           turned my legs blue!
– What about some compensation?
The foreman asked the boss,
who asked the company doctor,
who asked: “How do you know it is             the floor?”
“Do varicose veins run in the                                    family?”
I don’t know. And the boss says:
“We need the cement floor to wash              the blood away.”
The foreman takes me aside:
“We don’t like troublemakers!”
I go to the union. He says:
“Why didn’t you come and see us                 before the operation?”
Why weren’t you warning us about              the floor and
doing something about it before now?
They sent a legal man to the boss.
The company offers one hundred
           and the union accepts.
We sold the car.

Now everyone exercises their legs.

The female worker’s medical condition is passed around unsympathetically between the various men in authority, and she is accused of causing trouble or failing to notify the union of the problem. There is no acceptance of responsibility by any of the men involved, not even from the union official who suggests that the worker is responsible for her own occupational health and safety. The poem has a conversational tone as if the narrator is relating this story to the reader personally. The attitudes of the various characters are revealed through their lines of dialogue and their lack of concern for the worker as an individual is made apparent without overstatement. There is also a sense of inevitability in the outcome — the company is not severely penalised with a large compensation payout and the worker is left with the bulk of the medical bill and the poem finishes with an indication that something is being done albeit too late for many, with the onus still falling on the workers themselves rather than the bosses. Despite the hardship endured by the narrator, the poem maintains a humorous tone throughout, as the reader follows the exasperated worker’s situation. The poet does not resort to overly dramatic descriptions of the workplace and the strength of the poem lies in its ability to deliver a powerful message in a deceptively simple style.

The instinct and ability to survive difficult circumstances are often demonstrated by working class women, and lives that centre around making ends meet, caring for children and so on have been expressed in poetry. Bobbi Sykes illustrates some of the specific injustices suffered by black women and paints a vivid picture of desperation and lack, matched with a determination and will to survive and a tenacious clutching onto hope. The women in her poems do not give up easily, despite having the odds stacked against them, and the images she creates are powerful tools in understanding life from the perspective of a black working class woman. In her poem ‘Black Woman’, Sykes points to the irony of black women being feted in the name of equality or reconciliation to present their views at official forums or encouraged to join political parties while their immediate circumstances and hardships are ignored and no solutions are offered to alleviate the problems of lack of food and basic essentials, absent partners, sick children and so on:

your near meat-less stew
boils over in the kitchen
you stand at the front door
your baby in your arms
next youngest twisting at your skirts
you listen to the man
from the Australian Party
asking you to become a candidate
in the forthcoming election
— in your hand today’s mail
advising you of scholarship benefits
and black medical services
your mind wanders to johnny
lying in the back room
wheezing his tiny life away
and to the two you lost before
the advent of black services …

The political message and sense of injustice is clear, although the poem is not didactic in delivery. The images of the woman’s poverty speak for themselves, without being overly melodramatic. Despite the fact that the woman has suffered the loss of children, there is no sentimentalising. The reader is given the chance to step inside the woman’s life and try to understand that there is no time for melodrama when the daily needs of a struggling family must be met. Although the narrator is detached from the woman in the poem due to the use of “you”, the empathy of the poet is unquestionable, and it becomes apparent that the poet fully understands the circumstances and situation of the woman. This is important and without this deep understanding and subsequent sensitive treatment of subject matter, the reader cannot hope to be provided with a complete and authentic picture. The images in this poem are strong, as the woman is “asked to speak to groups /in your st vincent de paul dress”. The narrator points out the condescending and hollow sentiment behind “demonstrations of the day” and “new l-liberal views/mouthing anti-racist slogans” but offering no practical assistance. The woman becomes a puppet for those wishing to do good, but she admonishes herself for feelings of bitterness or ingratitude toward her “improved” condition. The poem ends with a sense of the inadequacy of belated political action that does little to alleviate the ongoing and ingrained injustices of black women’s lives.

Language is an important element in the creation of working class poetry. Several poets use language innovatively, often leading to a “subversion” of the accepted “standard” English. Poetry that employs phonetic spellings of working class dialect or illustrates a hybrid version of English challenges the dominant mode and provides the reader with a striking alternative, which ultimately offers the privilege of access to a world they may not be familiar with.[10] Melbourne poet πO’s use of language is extremely effective in his epic poem 24 Hours, which is over seven hundred pages long. It presents the lives of various characters in a working class area of Melbourne. This is a diverse world, inhabited by drug dealers, prostitutes, street kids, the homeless as well as those working and struggling to support themselves, lone parents, migrants and first generation Australian-born children of these migrants. For much of the poem, π.O. allows the characters to speak in their own voices. Often this involves a phonetic rendition of their particular language or accent, whether it be a hybrid version of English spoken with a Greek accent, or phonetic spellings of languages other than English: “Aafendik-o! –ENNA TSAI M-E LEMONI!” By recreating these speech patterns on the page, πO throws the reader completely into the world of the characters, and the reader is forced to share the characters’ experiences on an immediate level, complete with misunderstandings and at times an inability to follow what the characters are saying. This gives the reader a very good idea of what it might be like to actually be one of the characters, especially the migrants, who experience the frustrations and problems, as well as the sense of hope and adaptation that occur when living and working in an alternative culture using a language that is unfamiliar:

Yoo n-o howw much eye looz?
1: $50s — wun pot!
he goes over and turns-up the oven.
Da pipol n-o hev much noww, the bloke sez: Holidai!
Too HOT to werrking, mai fren!
Liv tha shop.
gon summwhair drink!, Mario sez.

πO is not interested in sketching a comfortable world. He wants the reader to understand that the working class and underclass existence is often far from cosy, and his use of language means that the reader from outside this culture must be prepared to make an effort to find a way in.[11] His poetry also challenges an Anglo-Celtic version of the working class, and offers an insight into the particular difficulties and hopes of sections of a migrant community.

Although the characters’ speech provides a strong sense of place and focuses in and out of scenes through dialogue and monologue, there are also various sections of the work that concentrate on descriptions of Fitzroy. πO maintains a simplicity in his description, but chooses what to present carefully, thus building a gradual picture of the characters surroundings, which operates filmically as an establishing shot, allowing the reader a way into this particular world, as well as serving as a break from the frenetic pace and intensity of many of the conversations: “ — A dero /is making his way up the street/… towards the Gardens./ — The nurses/from St V’s are making their way home, down/the lane (over all the potholes/and excavations)”. This is important to provide a general impression of life in a working class neighbourhood, where everyday events are often more significant than the larger world picture. In some parts of Fitzroy, the residents are occupied with the daily business of survival, which reveals genuine heroes; those who are able to find a reason for living despite the hardships they endure.

Lionel Fogarty creates confronting and challenging poems through his use of a Creole which draws on English and Aboriginal languages. Fogarty takes the language of the white oppressors and uses it against them, to speak a powerful message of injustice and determination to survive. He combines aspects of traditional oral Aboriginal culture with ‘standard’ forms of poetry to produce a unique and powerful approach which develops his aim to “put Aboriginal designs of art inside the lettering to bring a broader understanding to the meanings of the text”.[12] He doesn’t reject the oppressor’s forms entirely, but manipulates them to work within his own specific context, thus turning forms previously used against his people as tools of liberation. The dispossession of Aboriginal people is the theme in his poem ‘At Home: To Musgrave Park People’, which highlights the human story behind a group of people living in a park, marginalised from the wider society and suffering from daily injustice and indignity at the hands of authorities, surrounded by the problems created by their dispossession, but maintaining a sense of community and family however tentative it may be. The people in the poem are also aware that they are not benefiting directly from any political advances in Black rights, that they are living proof of how society abandons those it cannot deal neatly with:

Bludging no-hoper
This dopey blackfella
Who? you saying, uncle, boong.
Yeah! What a shame.
Poor boozed up old lad.
At Musgrave we is frightened
when you talk land rights, black                               power
cause we is live experiences.
Look boy, me braver than youse.
Remember when dumbfounded
           you were.
All youse don’t sit parked,
don’t drink flagon red on lips to tip
never flagon to flake out at
           Musgrave Park.

Through the use of language, the reader is given a chance to experience this world closely while also being required to put aside preconceived notions of ‘standard’ English as the accepted rules of grammar are thrown aside to create an alternative version. Like πO, Fogarty allows the characters to speak for themselves, without compromising or attempting to force the poems into acceptable forms for non-Aboriginal readers. The poems are presented on their own terms, offering an insight into lives lived daily on the edge, with no reassuring references to accommodate the white middle class reader.[13]

Although the experience of an Aboriginal homeless man is vastly different from that of a white working class woman, it is possible to comment on poetry such as that of Fogarty under the umbrella of working class/underclass poetry. Many of the criticisms that have been levelled at working class poetry have also been used against Aboriginal poetry and poetry of writers from non-English-speaking backgrounds.[14] These forms of poetry possess different motivations, styles and aims in their creation, but at certain points in Australian contemporary literary history have all been described as simplistic, naïve, overtly political or propaganda, unliterary, unsophisticated, lacking in ‘poetic’ qualities, socio-economic ‘material’ or not containing appropriate subject matter for ‘true’ poetry.[15] These criticisms can be seen as an attempt by the establishment to undermine any work that may present a challenge to the accepted rules of the canon, and an ignorance and lack of understanding for the subject matter being presented. It is much easier to deny the existence of class injustice than to be prepared to accept the reality on its own terms. When the establishment feels threatened due by the desire of its members to protect its class privileges, it reacts by using intellectual or academic influence to cut down any alternatives to its comfortable position. By dismissing working class poetry, the members of the establishment can continue to enjoy their safe poetic world and only need concern themselves with the intellectual problems of the day. Working class poetry shatters these illusions and provides a direct contrast with the abstract or theorised world of academia. It forces the reader to acknowledge the daily injustices occurring outside the domain of literary scenes and academic institutions. Working class poetry invites the reader to face the reality of working class life rather than hiding behind the well-intentioned confines of intellectualised debate on injustice.

First published in Overland 165—2001

[1] Working class poetry is not always written by those from working class backgrounds, and there are middle class poets, such as Dorothy Hewett, who have written on working class themes.

[2] Working class poetry is not always written by those from working class backgrounds, and there are middle class poets, such as Dorothy Hewett, who have written on working class themes.

[3] There are working class writing courses at the University of Queensland, the University of Melbourne, and at Victoria University.

[4] Haslett suggests that notions of “quality” were developed in the eighteenth century, during which time popular art forms were pushed aside and accepted measures of “taste’ became synonymous with middle class art forms. Moyra Haslett, Marxist Literary and Cultural Theories. Macmillan, Basingstoke, 2000, p.156.

[5] The use of “standard English” has typically been defined by the ruling classes. Haslett, p.73. Oresick suggests that working class poetry does not feature in mainstream anthologies because the subject matter does not qualify as “proper subjects for literature” which usually include “love, death and nature.” Peter Oresick, Working Classics: Poems on Industrial Life, University of Illinois Press, Chicago, 1990, p.xxi.

[6] Use of poetic metaphor is often considered to be inappropriate by the working class poet, and in terms of adequately expressing their lives and experiences also a frivolous luxury afforded to those who do not have the pressing and practical concerns of working class life to consider. Jim Daniels, “Troubleshooting Poetry: The Factory and the University”, Janet Zandy (ed.), Liberating Memory: Our Work and our Working Class Consciousness, Rutgers University Press, New Brunswick, 1995, p.90.

[7] Daniels describes working class poetry as an assault on middle class senses, “loud raucous poems perhaps seem like cursing in class to those who associate poetry with gentility.” Jim Daniels, “Troubleshooting Poetry: The Factory and the University,” Zandy, p.91

[8] The romanticisation of the working class has been occurring for many years and there  continues to be an element of the middle class who believe they are able to speak for the working class or underclass, but who essentially fail to fully understand their subject matter. Linda McCarriston, ‘The Grace of Form: Class Unconsciousness and an American Writer’, Zandy, p.98.

[9] Feminists also acknowledge that feminist theory has traditionally come from a bourgeois position that does not always take into account the specific oppressions faced by working class women. Ruth Robbins, Literary Feminisms, Macmillan, Basingstoke, 2000, p.28.

[10] Corkhill suggests that these alternative versions of English challenge the authority of oppressors and indicate a sense of determination through positive appropriation. Annette Robyn Corkhill, Australian Writing: Ethnic Writers 1945–1991, Academia Press, Melbourne, 1994, p.1.

[11] πO’s subversion of English can be seen as a tool of revolution, his “damaging of language” leading to a “radical realignment and restructuring of society”, Corkhill, p.128.

[12] Lionel Fogarty, New and Selected Poems: Munaldjali, Mutuerjaraera, Hyland House, Melbourne, 1995, p.ix.

[13] The white reader must overcome literary preconceptions to accept the literature of Fogarty on its own terms. Joan Newman, “Commitment and Constraint: Contemporary Koori Writing”, Wenche Ommundsen & H. Rowley (eds). From a Distance: Australian Writers and Cultural Displacement, Deakin University Press, Victoria, 1996, p.88.

[14] Mudrooroo claims “white critics have been extremely harsh on Indigenous poets” and Indigenous poets often end up as “fringe dwellers unable to enter the elitist fairyland of bourgeois poetry”. Mudrooroo, Indigenous Literature of Australia: Milli Milli Wangka, Hyland House, Melbourne, 1997, p.44. Gunew points to criticism of ethnic writing that labels it “with the marks of linguistic naivety and incompetence” due to the use of “broken language”. Sneja Gunew, Framing Marginality: Multicultural Literary Studies, MUP.

[15] Fox states that middle class critics are not prepared to acknowledge the aesthetic qualities of working class writing and instead dismiss it as “crude, naïve and reactionary”. Pamela Fox, Class Fictions: Shame and Resistance in the British Working Class Novel, 1890–1945, Duke University Press, Durham, 1994, p.46. Adam Shoemaker claims that Indigenous writers have had their work dismissed as “protest literature”, a form he states is not favoured by the Australian literary establishment. Shoemaker, Black Words, White Page: Aboriginal Literature 1929-1988, UQP, St Lucia, 1989, p.189. Matha Vicinus cites examples of working class poetry being described as “thin and feeble”. Vicinus, The Industrial Muse: A Study of Nineteenth Century British Working Class Literature, Croom Helm, London, 1974, p.1. Peter Hitchcock points to descriptions of working class literature as “too sociological, too political, too realist, too easy … too late” Hitchcock, “They Must be Represented? Problems in Theories of Working Class Representation” PMLA 115:1 (2000) p.20.