The Council for the Single Mother and Child (CSMC) started in St. Kilda, fifty years ago. As the first self-help group in Victoria, it was the organisation that made a difference.
Its newsletter was named The Scarlet Letter, from the Nathaniel Hawthorne novel of the same name. It described how the red letter ‘A’ was compulsorily worn by women who had an ex-nuptial child, signifying their status as an adulterer.
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‘How come you kept your baby in 1962? Was it because you went to university?’ asked the sad-faced man, who related his unhappy experience as an adoptee.
“No. It was probably because I didn’t. Being fully self-supporting at sixteen, gave me an advantage.”
As an itinerant worker travelling up and down the east coast of Australia I had gathered knowledge of life. I knew that asking for help can place you in a vulnerable position. I was thus able to protect myself from being helped into an ‘Unmarried Mother’s home,’ where well-meaning people may have ‘helped’ the baby and me by removing her from my care. I remained independent, working until the week before she was born.
She arrived. I looked at this miracle, stunned by her beauty, but was not allowed to touch her. They stated that because she weighed just under the regulation six pounds, she needed ‘special care, and so she was whipped away before I could touch her. Breast feeding was not an option. Daily I would go down to the ‘prem’ ward and look at her through the window.
My discharge was a week later, after signing a form, headed ‘Registration of an Illegitimate Birth.’ Wendy had to stay in hospital. I came in regularly and gazed in wonder through the glass.
She was discharged after another week. At last, I held my precious babe for the first time. They gave me a bottle of formula, with instructions on how to make more, and then helped me into the taxi that would take us back to my rooming house accommodation. As we drove off, Wendy started hiccupping. What should I do? The wonderful taxi driver said ‘Hold her upright and pat her back’. It worked.
The pension was only available to women who were widowed, divorced or separated. If you hadn’t married, you could get a small ‘special benefit’ which was only for a few months. The Welfare Department man told me this was because unmarried mothers were a ‘dirty word.’
“Show me where it says that.” He pointed to a book.
“That will have to change,” I yelled, with more bravado than knowledge.
I left, not crying till I was out of his sight.
A few years later, I had moved house. Then disaster struck. The building was condemned. Working full time and searching for accommodation put me on overload.
Perhaps now the Welfare could assist? Yes, but only if I admitted myself to care as a ‘mental breakdown’ case. I replied that mental health wasn’t the problem, finding somewhere to live was.
“Please yourself. We’ll take you involuntarily in a few more weeks, anyway.”
A nun came to my rescue, providing a free child placement in an aged care facility, while I re-established myself. I then moved to a house in St. Kilda. It became a home.
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‘Parents Without Partners’ were having a meeting at the St. Kilda Town Hall. Mingling with a wider group of lone parents and sharing experiences would be great. But I had walked a different path. Most of the participants had been married. Some were looking to re-partner. I didn’t fit in.
But there was an amazing bonus from this meeting. I met Eric Benjamin, who was encouraging inspirational Rosemary West to start up an organisation for single mothers, run by single mothers. I came on board.
Our first meeting was held in an empty room above the State Bank in St. Kilda. We sat on the floor. Eric donated $10. As the first treasurer, I opened an account the next day.
Council for the Single Mother and her Child (CSMC) was formed in August 1969. Commenting on an Unmarried Mothers group in England, Patricia Harper suggested we define ourselves by what we were rather than what we were not, rejecting the negative term, ‘unmarried,’ and instead, referring to ourselves by the positive term “Single mothers.” This reflected what we could offer our children and the community.
As CSMC grew, I was surrounded by women who did not treat me as a deficient person requiring assistance, but as an equal, discussing ways to improve our situation. Then sadly, cancer struck. The operation was complicated.
At last, I got back to the group. Life improved immensely. President, Jill Millthorpe, said I was intelligent and should go to university. The time was right. The Council of Adult Education let me jump to year 12, which I completed over two years. Thank you, Jill and CSMC.
As an itinerant worker, adapting to the language of workmates was necessary. Luckily, earlier language skills returned, and words that were freely used as a child were remembered. Still working, I started university, part-time. Then the Whitlam government removed the fees. I could study full-time. CSMC also succeeded in getting the Supporting Parents Benefit for all parents.
On completion of my degree, I started work in the Children’s Court Clinic. The self-help experiences of CSMC were invaluable, not only for me but hopefully for my clients. As human beings, they were my equals – not somebody I helped from a superior position. They were also giving to me. As a representative of CSMC, I became involved with the Victorian Council of Social Services (VCOSS) developing the newly formed Committee of Self Help Groups.
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I’m now rethinking the Scarlett Letter. Red is the colour of energy and courage, and ‘A’ is for achievement. Single mothers of any description should wear this letter with pride.
Brenda Richards
Major award winner in this year’s CoPP Seniors Writing Festival
2019
Non Fiction
