Article Feminist memory work in action: Method and practicalities Qualitative Social Work 2015, Vol. 14(3) 321–337 ! The Author(s) 2014 Reprints and permissions: sagepub.co.uk/journalsPermissions.nav DOI: 10.1177/1473325014539374 qsw.sagepub.com Heather Fraser Department of Social Work and Social Planning, Flinders University, South Australia Dee Michell Department of Gender Studies and Social Analysis, University of Adelaide, South Australia Abstract This is a report on how (pro)feminist social workers might use the qualitative research methodology, memory work. The first section acknowledges the pioneering work of Frigga Haug in the conception and use of memory work and considers the underlying assumptions of the methodology and prescribed uses of the method. In the second section, we use a recent memory-work project conducted with women social science students/graduates, who come from low-socio-economic backgrounds, to illustrate memory-work processes in action. Here, we emphasise the potential benefits of using the method, which include its ability to inspire trust and solidarity in a group setting and connect the personal with the political. Keywords Memories, feminist memory work, ethics, politics and practicalities Introduction This paper is organised into two sections. In the first section, we explore the idea of memories and discuss the key concepts of memory work, as a feminist research method. We explore what the method involves, where it comes from, why researchers might want to use it and how they might do so. Some caveats are also made about when not to use the method. In the second section, illustrative examples are drawn from a recently conducted memory work project with women social science students/graduates from low-socio-economic backgrounds, a study that Corresponding author: Dee Michell, University of Adelaide, North Terrace Adelaide, South Australia 5005, Australia. Email: dee.michell@adelaide.edu.au 322 Qualitative Social Work 14(3) concentrated on what helped and hindered the women to complete their degrees. Process-oriented examples related to some of the practicalities of running memorywork groups are foregrounded. Excerpts of the participants’ written material are used to explore memory work processes in action rather than solely as evidence in a thematic analysis of research data. Throughout the paper, we reference Haug’s (1987, 2000, 2008) ideas about and use of memory as both method (concrete techniques and tools used in research) and methodology (wider philosophical, political, theoretical and technical questions raised about the method). The paper ends with an endorsement of memory work as offering qualitative researchers a useful way into personal insights and an interesting way to connect the personal and political as well as the past with the present and future. Memory work: Key concepts Memory work is an umbrella term for a process of exploring the past, which has multiple meanings, references and methods of communication. Broadly understood, memory work may involve any activity that deliberately tries to understand how historical memories can influence contemporary life and future possibilities. Common points of exploration are how time, space and culture affect identity development but also the re/presentations made about identities. Art (Simonds, 1994), music (Karlsen, 2013), dance (Nelson, 2013), novels (Kabir, 2005) and theatre (Watson, 2002) have been used as memory work of various forms. Historians (James, 1997), anthropologists (Kidron, 2009), therapists (Burman, 2002) and social work practitioners (Drenth et al., 2013) have also used memory work for a variety of purposes. For example, the recently completed national History of Adoption in Australia Project incorporates the memories of adoption as experienced by adoptees and their mothers (Quartly et al., 2013). Memories are central to memory work (Cixous, 1997). People produce memories that are affected by time, place, culture and physiology. The physiological and neurological aspects of memory are complex with short-term memory processes, overlapping working memory processes and those associated with the long term. Injuries, particularly brain and spinal cord injuries (Pavawalla et al., 2012), but also conditions, such as dementia and Alzheimer’s, influence people’s ability to process memories (Horberger and Piguet, 2011). Cultural artefacts across time and place reflect a range of ways to understand memory. In her 1911 novel The Story Girl, Montgomery wrote that ‘[N]othing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it’. Wilde in The Importance of Being Earnest (1989: 501) described memory as ‘the diary we all carry about with us’. Yet, memories can be unstable, coming to us unexpectedly and in fragments. As with diaries, where we forget to make our entries or do so hurriedly, our memories are affected by time, context and mood. They are also affected by emotions; intensely emotional memories may be precisely those we cannot forget. However, they may also be the memories we cannot dare to remember. Fowler, in her 2011 novel, Fraser and Michell 323 Memories for Sale, wrote: ‘[O]ne couldn’t be selective when remembering the past. Ignore the turmoil, chaos and pain—and the truly great memories would not shine with such luster’. Memory does not work like a computer, unless you include the times when computers stall, fail or crash; when you are misdirected to irrelevant websites that include navigating your way through random ‘pop-ups’. This mercurial nature of memory emerges in Cashore’s (2012: 317) novel, Bitterblue, ‘ . . . that’s how memory works’, Bitterblue said quietly, ‘Things disappear without your permission, they come back again without your permission. And sometimes they come back incomplete or warped’. Time and place affect the formation, recall and representation of memories. Autobiographical memories are often episodic, reflecting particular characters, times, places and events. Specific images, sounds, smells and/or feelings are often referenced when people recount memories. It is a point made by psychologists Conway and Pleydell-Pearce (2000: 261), who define autobiographical memories as ‘ . . . transitory mental constructions within a self-memory system’. From their point of view, autobiographical memories are extremely sensitive to external and internal cues, affecting which memories are recalled and how. Self-consciousness to such pre-selection and moderation of memories is usually not apparent, allowing people to experience a sense of continuity in personhood they might not otherwise experience (Conway and Pleydell-Pearce, 2000). Even though memory is key to identity (Booth, 2008), political environments, structures and institutions also affect what memories are made and whether they may be publicly recounted without penalty. As Haug (2008: 538) has said, memory ‘always runs the risk of reflecting dominant perspectives’. While people do not always do as they are told, social conventions still circulate about how people should think and behave as a woman, man, white person, person of colour and so on. These expectations influence our experiences, including whether we consider them ab/normal, and how we might speak of them. Dominant perspectives can be challenged, too, as increasing democratisation creates space for the marginalised and abused to share their memories. Sharing memories is one method by which individuals can understand ‘the workings of dominant ideology in their subjectivies’ (Pease, 2000: 11; also see Heisler, 2008). As people begin to understand the way in which they unconsciously but actively participate in the socialisation process, they are able to develop resistance against normative values (Haug, 1987). Feminist memory work: Key concepts and applications Feminist memory work is built on the premise that people often know much more about themselves and their worlds around them than they might immediately imagine (Haug, 2000). Awareness of power relations is central to the practice (Haug, 1987, 2000, 2008), which is narrative in orientation and appreciative of the power of telling and analysing stories (Fraser, 2004; McNamara, 2009). 324 Qualitative Social Work 14(3) While it might not always be evident on the first reading, personal stories often reflect this deeper knowledge. Finding ways to unearth these insights, particularly those that link personal experiences to wider socio-political processes, is central to both feminist ethnography (McNamara, 2009) and memory work (Haug, 2000). Haug (2000: 2) writes that memory work is a feminist methodology that was, ‘ . . . designed and written as it applies to women’s groups . . . developed with and for the feminist movement . . . [and] recognized as feminist’. Haug (1987, 2000) questions whether the method may be used with men. We do not. For us, how the method is used matters more than with whom it is used. Most important is that the method is used to promote gender and sexual equality through an awareness of the socialisation process, as discussed above, although it could be used to promote other forms of equality too. Feminist memory work is based on the premise that remembered narratives provide a window into, or a bridge between, the personal and political. Irrespective of whether participants are male, female, transgendered or intersex, gender analyses are central and are conducted not only with individuals in mind but also with social groups. We are not the first feminists to suggest that women’s collective memories, personal experience and personal testimonies can be fertile sources of evidence about women’s lives (see in particular Harding (1991); also see DeVault, 1999; Jackson, 1998). Cutting across domains of experience, memory work is sensitive to gender, class and other axes of oppression (such as ethnicity, sexuality, age and ability). Another advantage of the method is the way it offers participants the opportunity to knowingly produce and interpret the data, both individually and collectively (Onyx and Small, 2001). Collective group experiences, including those that give women the opportunity to participate in the interpretation of data they help produce, can induce solidarity and be empowering, thus ‘bringing about some positive change in the participants and in the world’ (Cadman et al., 2001: 76). Feminist research methodologies reflect not only academic researchers’ political and disciplinary orientations but also were connected to the women’s movement, women’s rights and liberation in feminism’s second wave (1960s–1980s) (also see McNamara, 2009). It is this connection between feminist researchers and activists, especially during the second wave, which has provided interest in and impetus for the method to be used. However, these same links have, at times, cast shadows over its trustworthiness. The second wave of feminism in Australia is well known as a time when members of the women’s movement catalogued the effects of violence and abuse perpetrated by men over women. It is a social movement we authors remember well. Indeed, we have vivid personal memories of consciousness raising efforts being used with women’s groups, including those designed to uncover repressed memories of sexual abuse. We also remember that from the perspective of some outsiders, criticism and doubt were cast over the veracity of these recovered memories (see, for example, Berliner (1997) for an overview of the ‘memory wars’). The main criticism was that women were coached to piece together their fragmented memories in ways that confirmed abuse. Both advocates of the method and detractors Fraser and Michell 325 have underlined the political, legal, cultural and emotional implications of remembering sexual abuse (see, for example, Ceci and Loftus, 1994; Lindsay and Read, 1995). Wrongful accusations of abuse have potentially serious implications, not just for the women who go on to identify as victims/survivors, but also alleged perpetrators, families, friends and any professionals who get involved (see Rumney, 2006). Today, in this late part of the third wave of feminism, the controversy of memory work associated with repressed memories of child sex abuse has ebbed away. Since the second wave, the method has been used by (pro) feminist researchers to explore a variety of social issues. For example, Small (1999) used the approach to investigate the gendered nature of tourism and Kaufman (2000) to understand the socialisation of girls and their distancing from science after puberty. The method has also been employed with men. For instance, social work academic Pease (2008) used it with his pro-feminist men’s group, as the men collectively explored their mother–son relationships. Most recently, Widerberg (2011) has been exploring memory-work as a method for individuals as well as gatherings of family members, and a small group of academics in New Zealand have applied the method to delve into their migration experience collectively, but in doing so, chose to work ‘across gender’ in their mixed gender group (Cornforth et al., 2012). These few examples point to the usefulness of memory work in a variety of international settings, wherever researchers have wanted to explore and challenge the impact of normative gender ideals. The importance of group processes that inspire trust and solidarity Because group work is so central to the method of memory work, attention must be paid to the facilitation of group processes. Memory work researchers need to be competent group facilitators, willing and able to steer the activities and intervene if group dynamics warrant it. Alternatively, our position is that they need to engage the services of a skilled facilitator and work closely with them to ensure a thorough understanding of the method. Memory work is particularly appropriate for sensitive matters because individual experiences are extended into a social context and away from the self (Farrar, 2001). However, some topics may be too painful and raw and should be avoided. Where memory work groups are conducted, there are a number of important considerations for facilitating sessions. First and foremost, it is imperative to ensure that there is sufficient trust and agreement to group norms, particularly those relating to group members’ privacy. Care must also be taken to recruit participants and generate discussions that do not require participants to re-live their traumatic experiences in front of a non-therapeutic group. If conducted with sensitivity, respect and adequate expertise, memory-work groups can foster levels of trustworthiness, even solidarity, among participants and researchers. As we elaborate in the next section, we witnessed high levels of trust and camaraderie among the women in the groups we facilitated. 326 Qualitative Social Work 14(3) Writing and reading about memorable stories Memory work can be used to study gender in action, while also focusing on topics that participants, not just the researchers, find meaningful. Haug (2000) recommends giving up to 12 women a topic of ‘burning interest to them’ in advance of the group session. Participants are then asked to write a short story about it, which they bring to the group session and read aloud to each other (Haug 2000). Questions are posed using plain, everyday language. Since popular culture and everyday interactions are thought to influence each other and have a bearing over the way women and men express themselves, their sexualities and the stories told about them, an interest is taken in the use of clichés, adages and popular turns of phrase. Group time is then spent reading and re/interpreting these stories, with final authorship usually kept by the lead researcher for the purposes of maintaining confidentiality as well as for possible future analysis. Significantly, Haug (2000) recommends asking group members to recount only the memory of the event, incident, observation or scene, with interpretations and reinterpretations not permitted in the reading stage of the group session. The choice of language and other narrative devices used to express subjectivities and construct identities are then examined and re-examined (Haug, 2000; Onyx and Small, 2001). Both participants and researchers consider how individual memories reflect wider socio-economic and cultural patterns. After reading the written stories, the group has the chance to provide alternate interpretations and explanations, which are then folded into the final analyses. Findings are used for the purposes of praxis, not just theoretical exploration, and accessibility is the key to disseminating the findings (Fraser, 2004). Some caveats about using the method As with all qualitative methods, memory work is not designed to reach a lot of people but to provide a more detailed understanding of how small groups experience phenomena (Walters, 2010). It is more time consuming than conducting a focus group but has the advantage of allowing for the greater depth usually experienced in interviews, while being less labour intensive because it is conducted with a small group. It is not a research method for all qualitative researchers, however, particularly given the care and sensitivity required. Indeed, it should not be adopted by researchers without group facilitation skills or experience, or those who do not have the resources to employ skilled facilitators. Researchers not prepared to make referrals to support services for participants should also avoid the method. Ultimately, participants need to be seen as people first and foremost, rather than sources of data, and a duty of care for participants’ wellbeing is emphasised. Feminist memory work calls for the willingness and ability to engage in emotion work sometimes ignored or even scorned by positivist researchers who may dispute the veracity of the evidence found through the method. Believing it to be too Fraser and Michell 327 partisan and emotionally charged, they may dismiss the method and any findings that flow from it, as unscientific or lacking rigor. Researchers hoping for a smoother career progression, where they can conduct quick studies more likely to be accepted as Scientific, might want to avoid feminist memory work. However, the method may be embraced by disciplines such as social work and anthropology which already accept qualitative research. The politics of how evidence is constituted and credentialed are not the only issues to consider. Recruitment of participants requires thought. Given the amount of attention paid to written expression, proficiency with literacy skills needs to be considered as it is a prerequisite in the target population consulted, and this is a limitation of the method. Further research would be required to assess whether the method can be readily adapted to more oral practices. Snowball or purposive sampling can be useful, particularly for attracting people with less visible or valued identities (such as women from low-socio-economic backgrounds). Caution may be needed, however, to avoid breaches in anonymity of participants. One way forward is to ask participants not to discuss with possible participants the project in public but instead, to direct anyone they believe might be eligible and interested to contact the researcher/s. Given the intricacies of the method, informed consent can take longer than that required for more standard individual interviews. More written documentation about the project and on the consent form may be necessary to ensure participants understand their rights but also their responsibilities to others in the group. The use of participant incentives can also raise questions about whether the consent was given freely. In Fraser’s 20 years of social work research experience, disputes with Ethics Board’s about undue inducements to participate arise mostly in relation to people on low incomes and with low–socio-economic status. Is the amount too hard to resist? And if so, does that amount to a subtle form of coercion to participate? Questions about the use and dissemination of memory work findings also need attention. Apart from offering participants the chance to learn of the research outcomes, the aim is to use the data for socially progressive purposes. Social work researchers employing this method may, for instance, try to use their findings to raise awareness about social problems; influence social policies; improve the design or delivery of health and welfare programs and services; and/or offer new resources to address gaps or omissions. Illustrative example The memory-work study we led took place in South Australia and involved working with Elizabeth Beddoe (University of Auckland) and research assistant Michele Jarldorn (Flinders University). It was called, What helps and hinders women from low socio-economic backgrounds complete social science degrees? The project began late 2012 and was funded by a small ($5500 AUD) Flinders University Faculty Research Grant. The grant paid for participant incentives 328 Qualitative Social Work 14(3) ($60 gift cards per participant), casual research assistance, vegetarian refreshments (in order to be inclusive of vegetarians) provided during the groups, and graphic design and laminating of conference posters outlining key findings. Two other grants were secured: (a) $1500 AUD grant for Elizabeth Beddoe to visit Flinders University to help design the project and work through the ethical issues and (b) a $1000 NZ grant to hire a postgraduate student to help source relevant literature. Accounting for differences in currency, the total budget was about $8000 AUD, a relatively small budget for a project that yields strong returns in terms of group solidarity, as we discuss below. Aims of the study, ethics approval and recruitment process Our five main aims were to: 1. Study the university experiences of a group of up to 16 women social science students (or graduates) who identified as coming from a low-socio-economic background. 2. With participants, narratively analyse the participants’ educational and personal progress at university, elicited through 2, 3-h memory workshops. 3. Examine the data for what helped or hindered women from low-socio-economic backgrounds access and complete university studies. 4. Present third-person de-identified accounts and subsequent group analyses, which illustrate critical incidents and turning points relevant to the participants’ completion of social science degrees. 5. Relate these findings to other recent and relevant quantitative and qualitative studies and consider any policy implications, particularly for social science educators and administrators. In early 2013, we submitted our ethics application, outlining, step by step, what we would do, how we would do it and why. The project involved a two-phased process with women who came to 2–3-h workshops. Workshops were divided into two sessions: the first dedicated to writing, reading and interpreting participants’ stories that responded to our research question and the second designed to collectively analyse the stories in more depth and add further reflections. Provisional ethics approval followed. The ethics committee were concerned about the $100 participant ‘gifts’ we had proposed for each person, each session. We had accounted for the possibility that participants may have had to forsake paid work and/or pay for a baby sitter to attend the workshops. However, committee members thought that this amount was too high and constituted too much of an inducement to participate. The amount was revised to $60 per person per session, and after some other small amendments, full ethical clearance was granted. With permission from Student Services, we put up two dozen flyers advertising our research on campus and posted a call for participants on a couple of student websites. A steady flow of interest resulted. Each interested party was provided Fraser and Michell 329 with the study’s formal documentation so they could see, in advance, whether they were eligible and willing to proceed. No first-year students were permitted, nor students currently taught by any member of the research team. With all this clarified, the rooms booked, refreshments purchased and setup and vouchers for participants ordered, distributed and later accounted for we were ready to use the method for the first time. Although no one had experience of using memory work, facilitators were experienced group workers. Facilitating the first group sessions Two workshops were held on campus, for 3 h each, with one held in the afternoon and the other early evening. Eight women ended up being in each group. Three members of the research team were present during these workshops, one taking on the role of facilitator. Our rough schedule looked like this: the first hour was spent reviewing the objectives and process followed by writing stories; the following 30 min talking more informally over supper, a subsequent 45 min working in triads analysing each other’s stories and the final 45 min feeding back to each other and debriefing. We used a tutorial room with good views and light and put up signs to help participants find the room without stress or delay. The chairs and tables were set up, so that all participants could easily see and hear each other, and we set up our refreshments in the room as well because the kitchen areas were too far away. We made the tea, coffee and snacks available at the start of the group and regularly circulated the trays, to welcome the women and induce a more relaxed atmosphere. Participant payments (gift cards) were distributed early, and we advised the women that they could take the cards even if they decided not to go ahead and participate. This decision was made on the basis that women had come to campus during semester recess and should not be left wondering if and when the cards would be distributed. After the women settled, we went through the Powerpoint slides made up in advance, which outlined the rough schedule for the session and the rationale for various parts of the process. With their hard copies in hand of our Letter of Introduction, Information Sheet and Consent Form, the documents were projected onto a large screen. Participants were reminded that the study was entirely voluntary, and if they were no longer comfortable, they could leave without explanation or penalty. No one elected to leave, and all signed their consent forms. In contrast to Haug’s (2000) recommendation that the topic be posed in advance of the meeting, we had already decided against this, at least for the first session. Our rationale was threefold: we did not want to add to the women’s workloads; for existing students, we did not want to make it seem like it was one more assignment they had to complete; and for all the participants, we wanted to avoid the women approaching the task as a self-conscious public performance, which may induce anxiety or rumination. We aimed for a more spontaneous recounting of narratives 330 Qualitative Social Work 14(3) and follow-up analyses to plain language questions we posed on the day of the meeting. A round of introductions took place before the facilitator spoke about the following instructions, again projected on a large screen: 1. That this was not a creative-writing class, where people listen to stories through the lens of literary or artistic criticism; 2. That it was the responsibility of the facilitator to guide members through the process; 3. That reading one’s story to the group was entirely voluntary; 4. That for those willing to read their stories, we asked that they simply read them aloud (as they stood on the page), in their third-person pronoun, rather than talking about the stories or making editorial comments; 5. That group members needed to actively listen to narrators, without judgement or interruption but with an interest in the use of language, including common or popular expressions; 6. That group analyses and interpretations would be conducted after all participants have had the chance to read their stories; 7. That any analyses or interpretations made used the pseudonyms used in the written narratives and were not personally directed to group members; and 8. That as per the Consent Form, group members were not permitted to discuss any specificities of people’s stories outside the group, which might identify narrators. In both groups, we asked the women to write personal but educationally focussed stories, up to a page each, about What helps and hinders women from low-socio-economic backgrounds complete social science degrees? Specifically, we asked them to write about any memories that sprang to mind. For instance, they might like to write about a time they realised that university study was ‘actually possible’; or a lasting memory of fear or humiliation in the classroom; or a ‘turning point’ story about someone helping them to complete their university studies. As recommended by Haug (1987, 2000), we sought to historicise authors and provide some emotional distance from the story, by asking group participants to de-identify names and use third-person pronouns in the written stories they told. After all group members had the chance to read their stories, we broke for supper. Providing good food and drinks in one central spot allowed us to continue talking, but in a more informal way. It also allowed time for one researcher to photocopy the stories for the post-break analyses. The second phase From the outset of our study, we expected to consider formal and informal policies, programs and processes as well as individual educational experiences. We were open to hearing stories about any number of aspects of university life, including Fraser and Michell 331 but not limited to, previous experiences with university; assumptions about what university life would be like and who they meet there; availability of income support programs, grants and scholarships; the nature and content of study programs; relationships with peers and staff; accessibility of counselling and other support services; and any other factors participants identified as important. With this, we intended to link participants’ hopes, dreams, challenges, intentions and motivations. During the second phase of the memory work, we reconvened in small groups of three, researchers dispersed amongst the groups. This was a particularly exciting and energising stage of the process as women had relaxed noticeably after having written and read their stories out loud, and during the break had already begun to chat amongst themselves about experiences that resonated. Each triad then examined in detail the stories belonging to their group for evidence of patterns, of similarities and differences that might point to structural forces at play in the lives of individual women. The procedure we used to analyse each story is outlined after we use stories (below) told by Audrey (not her real name), as examples, Story 1: Audrey is the first person in her family to attend university. Her parents are both working-class and even though she was a high achiever at school she didn’t think that public schools in the 1970s, in the Northern suburbs, believed that their students were worthy of attending uni[versity]. Her parent’s goal was for her to get married and live happily ever after. Story 2: Audrey returned to formal study late in 2005 after Centrelink [government income support agency] was having a campaign to get single mothers back to [paid] work. Her daughter was only 4 at the time. At the age of 42 Audrey attended a session that went through what they liked and disliked about work, what they thought they were good at etc. The results showed that she wasn’t cut out for tailoring—yet she’d been doing it since she was 15 years old. Instead it was recommended that Audrey enter social work. How could she get into uni when she had only completed 2½ years of high school over 25 years ago? They recommended that she start by doing women’s education at TAFE [a community college]. She wasn’t convinced she could do it, but was heavily encouraged to do so by a social worker she had been seeing . . . after escaping a violent and abusive relationship . . . [emphasis added] There are many ways to read these stories. For some, they may reflect entirely personal and psychological experiences. Some analysts will focus on the intrapsychic aspects of the story, perhaps honing in on Audrey’s confession that she ‘ . . . wasn’t convinced she could do it’ (see story 2 above). From a feminist memorywork perspective, however, questions about the impact of gender and social class were raised in the small group, and it was noted that Audrey, like the others, had perhaps internalised oppression from her devalued gender and class status. 332 Qualitative Social Work 14(3) Discussion then ensued about the psychological processes often adopted by oppressed people, including those that are self-defeating. Observations were also made that socio-culturally, Audrey was not expected to go to university because she is female and working-class (see story 1 above). Instead, she was expected by her parents, and perhaps her high school teachers, to pursue sewing—a traditionally feminine and working-class activity—and heterosexual marriage at a time when being married was deemed the height of success for a woman. After following this socio-cultural script for happiness—remembered by another older woman in the small group—Audrey is abused by her spouse. It is only when she leaves and gets the ongoing support of a social worker, and her encouragement for Audrey to enter social work, does she allow herself to think such a plan might be possible. Rather than pathologise Audrey because she has so much self-doubt, group members asked whether it is any wonder she found herself worrying about her ability to complete university studies, given her circumstances. They were also able to personally relate to aspects of Audrey’s experience and the sharing reinforced the group bonding we had earlier observed when the story writing and reading concluded. As we—researchers and participants—discussed during the memory-work sessions, there is much evidence of structural factors at play in Audrey’s stories. The discourse of women living-happily-ever-after (through heterosexual marriage) is well worn, even today, but especially between 1960s and 1980s in Australia (Wood, 2001). Similarly, the exhortation that single-mothers-need-to-get-back-towork appears in Audrey’s story as it so often has since Australia provided pensions to sole parents from 1973, 31 years after the widows pension was offered to married (but not divorced) women from 1942 (ABS, 2009; Bryson, 1983). Apart from suggesting that raising (biological) children is ‘non-work’ (Grace, 1998), this discourse coincides with the happily-ever-after fantasy in so far as it reserves one trajectory for (respectably) married women, and another for single mothers whose morality is often questioned (Edwards and Duncan, 1997). Married women are allowed, if not encouraged to ‘stay at home’, and live happily ever after looking after ‘their men’ and children. Single mothers wishing to ’stay at home’ and raise their children risk being castigated as welfare-dependant (Bryson, 1983; Mendes, 1997; also see Bashevkin, 2002; Gilles, 2005; Reese, 2005) as women in the groups of all ages, many single mothers, noted. Audrey (and others) appreciated the potential stigma attached to sole parent status as well as other structural barriers in her path. Story 3: The difficulties Audrey had were mostly structural. School holidays that didn’t coincide with semester breaks made child care difficult. When her kid was sick she had no one to help. When she was sick she just didn’t stop. She had very little support from her family. . . . If it hadn’t been for the financial stimulus package in the 2009/2010 financial year Audrey may not have finished. Her hot water service had died, her car was on its last legs and her credit card had reached its limit (emphasis added). Fraser and Michell 333 ‘Very little support from her family’ and a university calendar that did not try to align with parenting responsibilities was a common theme discussed in triads. Women could see how the pressures to run a household, study, parent and do casual work could take a toll on women’s health. Audrey was clear that she may never have been able to complete her degree, at least not in the time frame she hoped, had it not been for the extra money unexpectedly provided by the Federal Labor Government to avert an economic recession during what is now known as the Global Financial Crisis. Audrey noticed how these pressures were eased when she re-partnered: Story 4: Audrey has a wonderful boyfriend who offered to give her some money to help her out, but she was too proud to accept. He found ways around that though. Sometimes he would borrow her car and would return it full of petrol. He bought her a beautiful laptop and dismissed her thanks saying he was using it as a tax claim. Once he won $1000 on X-lotto and shared it with her . . . While he didn’t quite understand the thrill she got from study he was very supportive and never played the ‘what about me’ card when she prioritised study over spending time with him. She did not see the same thing happen for her other friends at uni[versity] (emphasis added). Women discussed how being too proud to accept money can also be code for not wanting to become indebted to, or dependant on, a man. This is significant, given Audrey (and a number of other women) had experienced domestic violence in her previous relationship (see story 2 above and story 5 below), adding to the challenges she was already facing while juggling home, family and university life: Story 5: Audrey already had many detractors. Her ex-partner’s mother was adamant she should go into teaching—so were many others—12 weeks holiday a year was their best argument. Her boss told her she would be 50 by the time she graduated [She was 48]. She was a good worker, reliable, friendly and underpaid for her skills. She now knows he was most afraid of losing a valuable, low-cost asset. Many thought social work was about removing children—an auntie thought she would be wiping the dribble off the mouths of old people. Her mum didn’t get it. Why would she want a new career when she was so good on a sewing machine? After years in an abusive relationship Audrey had come to believe that she was stupid as she had been told often (emphasis added). Ageism is evident in Audrey’s story (above), given one of the arguments put to her about not entering university was that she was already middle-aged. Looking back, she could see how her boss’ attempts to dissuade her may have been motivated by the benefits he derived from her labour as a casual and underpaid tailor. Without her mother to champion her commitment to university, and battling internal doubts about her intelligence, she was relieved to find: Story 6: Lecturers who were personable, answered emails, ‘dumb’ questions and encouraged feedback from students made her feel comfortable. When they used 334 Qualitative Social Work 14(3) films and real life examples to illustrate theory she didn’t feel out of her depth . . . . Lecturers who were ok with her bringing her kid to a lecture or meeting if necessary . . . and [G]etting useful feedback on written work (emphasis added). Audrey had not expected to feel so encouraged and comfortable at university. Lecturers prepared to accommodate her bringing her child to class also enabled her to manage the competing interests of study and parenting. Life would have been much harder, had she not encountered staff with such an approach to teaching. It would also have been harder had she not connected with other women in her undergraduate program: Story 7: Late in Audrey’s second year of study a group of women around her age ended up in many of the same classes . . . This became a valuable support group for them and their kids, which still continues today. Feminists (of old) would enjoy knowing that the camaraderie among women, previously referred to as the sisterhood (see Kennedy et al., 1970; Jolly, 2012), can provide ‘valuable support’ and relationships that endure, not just for the women but also for ‘their kids’ (see story 7 above). These last stories prompted considerable discussion in the small group, however, as others had experienced ageism, but not all had experienced supportive university staff, and some women felt disconnected from other students because of attitudes conveyed in class about single mothers and ‘welfare dependence’. Even so, by the time the memory-work sessions had concluded, there was an enlivening sense of camaraderie amongst group members with mobile phone numbers being exchanged and arrangements made ‘to meet for coffee’. Summary In this paper, we have reviewed the feminist research method/ology, memory-work, as designed by Haug in the context of the 20th century feminist movement, and discussed how we used the approach for a 21st-century research project. Qualitative and narrative in orientation, memory-work has been historically conducted with groups of women and assumes that people often know more about themselves and their worlds than they might imagine (Haug, 2000). Although the women varied with respect to age, ethnicity, physical ability/mobility and sexuality, our focus was on gender and class and what we found was that women were keenly aware of their social class backgrounds and how structural impediments created difficulties for them in pursuing a university education. 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