positioning

This thesis is as much a memoir as a monograph.

My story – my experience, my thinking, my practice – is entangled with the research in both its process and substance. This is a perspective I’ve been fighting for some time. I’ve spent three years thinking about the ways in which academia restricts what we say, how we say it, and – most importantly – who can say anything at all, and yet when it comes time to properly put pen to paper I am frightened that embedding my own subjectivity is what risks the strength of my arguments.

My subjectivity is what makes my critiques so clear. Lived experience researchers bring a wealth of knowledge not just in those experiences but in the constant battle of processing and contextualising them within ourselves. This thesis is the story of how I harnessed the ways I rebuilt my own mind to de- and re-construct the university system I have been embedded in for over a decade now.

I am a queer, neurodivergent, migrant woman who exists in the world but for the grace of my service pup Bronte. In many ways I resemble my research subjects: complex, contradictory, precarious. My last decade has been characterised by misdiagnoses, abusive relationships, financial hardship and burnout. In that time I’ve lived in five cities across three countries; seven across four in my lifetime. I led my student body for two years as president, have successfully steered multiple non-profits through transitional periods, spent time in the public service, and also make money selling my art. In this time I graduated with a Bachelor of Arts and Master of Social Policy, both with First Class Honours.

My CV is impressive, but it is also deceptive. Nowhere will my Honours certificate note that upon submission my psychologist said, '“oh good, I honestly didn’t know if you would be able to do it” and my GP remarked that I had been a broken human for its duration. No one will know of the eight years I spent taking anticonvulsant medication every twelve hours only to be told - after five days with 24 electrodes glued to my head and plugged into a wall - that they do prolific damage if taken unnecessarily. Nor will they know of the hundreds of hours I have spent with neurologists, psychiatrists, psychologists, doctors; nor of the thousands during which I stripped my broken brain to its most basic parts and put it back together pen line by thread. In none of my achievements is there an asterisk with the note: this woman gave up two years fighting for student rights under threat of expulsion and institutionally driven abuse. Or even this one: a university refused equitable engagement on such a fundamental level that their response to being called out was to send the police to this woman’s apartment. There’ll never be recognition of the friendships I have grieved because abusive partners have isolated them or myself; of the compassion fatigue I myself have felt from helping others to escape similar situations; or the helplessness watching yet another loved one lose someone to suicide.

I managed those achievements, despite my experience, because I have been incredibly loved and supported. My parents both have higher degrees and professional careers. The immense sacrifices they made in moving to Australia were all because of the deep love they have for their children; for the hope that the opportunities they had would be even greater in this country. My childhood was marked by neither family nor housing insecurity; I always had access to food, resources and medical care when I needed it. I am a middle child, flanked by generous and inspiring siblings that have both forged their own paths and enabled me to pursue mine. In the times in which I had the capacity to perform neurotypically, and after I started engaging on my own terms, I developed relationships that allow me access to power rarely afforded to others. I have been able to navigate institutional arrangements by virtue of these relationships: I would not have graduated any of my degrees without them.

The premise of this project is that every student deserves the opportunities that I have been granted; that the diversity and complexity of student experiences should be celebrated, encouraged and supported. Moreover, that universities themselves and the university system as a whole are stronger not despite integrating this diversity but because of it: this thesis certainly will be.

Welcome to the mess and the madness; don your hardhats and make a cup of tea. Thank you for being here.