International Journal for Crime and Justice (Queensland University of Technology)

This   article proposes that invalidation is a pervasive manifestation of   gender relations as expressed through strategies of minimisation,   disbelief and denial. Invalidation is embedded within interpersonal and   institutionalised arrangements and interactions. It is a constitute   element of gender-based violence as well as a socio-political condition   that enables gender-based violence. Invalidation serves to inscribe   gender relations upon the bodies of women through the mental and   physical health deficits of the gender-based violence that it enables   and facilitates, as well as through the denial of testimonial legitimacy   and the consequent withholding of resources, support and services

Salter, Michael

Invalidation: A Neglected Dimension of Gender-based Violence and Inequality

Carrington, Kerry

www.crimejusticejournal.com			IJCJ	2012	1(1):	74–75																																																																					ISSN	2201–2966	
		
	
©	2012	QUT	
Book	review	
Bellanta,	Melissa	(2012)	Larrikins:	A	History.	Brisbane:	University	of	Queensland	
Press.		
Kerry	Carrington	
School	of	Justice,	Faculty	of	Law,	Queensland	University	of	Technology,	Brisbane.	
	
This	book	has	been	painstakingly	researched	by	a	scholar	whose	intellectual	competencies	span	
several	 disciplines:	 history,	 sociology,	 criminology,	 culture,	 drama	 and	 film	 studies.	 It	 is	
theoretically	 sophisticated	 and	 yet	 not	 dense	 as	 it	 reads	 like	 a	 novel	 with	 an	 abundance	 of	
interesting	 complex	 characters.	 The	 central	 character	 is	 the	 larrikin	 but	 not	 the	 one	 Bellanta	
describes	as	‘the	true	blue	Aussie	larrikin’,	the	beer	swelling,	mischief	making,	fun‐loving,	anti‐
authoritarian,	raunchy	hyper‐masculine	male	who	calls	a	penis	‘a	donger’;	an	erection,	‘cracking	
the	fat’;	sex,	‘sinking	the	sausage’;	and	vomit,	‘a	technicolour	yawn’	(Bellanta	2012:	185).	Nor	is	
the	 central	 larrikin	 character	 for	 this	 book	 the	 iconic	 –	 the	 free	 love,	 dope	 smoking,	 rock	 ‘n’	
rolling,	counterculture	hippy‐type	bourgeois	revolutionaries	of	the	1950s	and	1960s	who	were	
especially	linked	with	the	Sydney	Push	or	the	Melbourne	Drift	(p.	184).		
	
While	Bellanta	points	out	that	larrikinism	is	often	invoked	to	symbolise	the	Aussie	spirit	of	‘the	
diggers’	 and	 to	 excuse	 the	 ‘hooliganish	 behaviour	 among	 AIF	 men	 during	 and	 after	 war’	
(Bellanta	2012:	178),	this	book	is	not	predominantly	about	this	legend	either.	Nor	is	the	book’s	
principal	 larrikin	 figure	 territorial	 as	 characterised	 by	 thuggish	 hyper‐masculine	 inner‐city	
urban	fans,	gangs,	mobs	or	pushes	that	over‐compensated	for	their	working	class	lot	in	life	by	
over‐identifying	with	 their	 local	 footy	 team	and	 taking	 vengeance	 against	 rivals	with	 knuckle	
dusters	 and	 ‘rocks	 and	 chains’	 (p.	 154).	 	 Another	 typical	 larrikin	 type,	 Melissa	 Bellanta	 also	
reminds	us,	had	great	fun	disrupting	Labor	Day	picnics	at	Chowder	Bay	and	other	working	class	
celebrations.	 ‘Like	 it	 or	not,	 the	 first	 larrikins	efforts	have	 echoes	 in	 the	 leary	 confidence	and	
hedonistic	display	in	youth	cultures	today’	(p.	29).		
	
The	real‐life	historical	larrikins	whose	biographies	provide	copy	for	much	of	this	book	were	the	
first	 and	 second	 generation	 youths	 born	 of	 ex‐convicts	 and	 new	 immigrants	 during	 the	 long	
boom	between	1860	and	1890	(Bellanta	2012:	8).		They	include	characters	such	as	James	Rorty	
Grey,	who	hung	out	with	the	bummer	gang	at	Sydney’s	notorious	Paddy’s	Markets	(p.	21)	and	
frequented	music	 halls	 and	 dance	 saloons;	William	 Porky	 Finn	 and	 Harold	 Dodger	 Smith	 (p.	
151),	convicted	 for	manslaughter	 in	1919	after	a	 territorial	skirmish	between	pushes	 in	post‐
war	Melbourne;	and	George	Howard,	a	thief	who	worked	for	a	Brisbane	boot	factory	in	1880s.	
These	historical	 figures	were	 ‘rough	youth’,	 two‐penny	capitalists	and	costermongers	 inspired	
by	19th	century	culture,	music	and	theatre	such	as	the	Leary	Bloke	(and	in	the	20th	century	The	
Sentimental	 Bloke).	 Melissa	 Bellanta	 has	 a	 talent	 for	 seamlessly	 integrating	 historical	 detail	
about	theatre,	music,	poetry	and	dance	as	a	way	of	foregrounding	‘the	role	of	culture	in	the	rise	
of	 larrikins’	 (Bellanta	 2012:	 27).	 For,	 as	 she	 reminds	 us,	 ‘larrikinism	 was	 itself	 a	 cultural	
Book	Reviews	
	
IJCJ					75	
Online	version	via	www.crimejusticejournal.com																																																																																						©	2012	1(1)	
phenomenon,	manifested	 through	 flamboyant	 dress,	 a	 self	 promotional	 demeanour,	 a	 love	 of	
cheap	amusements,	and	‘villainous’	songbooks	(p.	28).	
	
Larrikinism	is	an	ambiguous	term	of	denigration	for	some	and	endearment	for	others.	The	term	
larrikin	is	not	even	Australian.	It	is	a	derivative	of	the	English	expression	‘to	lark	about’	or	‘to	act	
leary’.	Larrikin	first	appeared	in	print	in	Australia	in	1870	to	describe	youngsters	belonging	to	
the	‘rowdy	class’	who	were	locked	up	after	a	Saturday	night	of	drinking,	fighting	and	thieving	in	
inner	 city	 Melbourne	 (Bellanta	 2012:	 3).	 The	 larrikin	 was	 soon	 thereafter	 hailed	 as	 an	
‘obnoxious	new	breed’	(p.	4)	residing	in	identifiable	belts	of	the	rapidly	growing	metropolis	of	
Sydney	 in	 the	 1880s	 and	 in	 Brisbane	 by	 the	 1890s.	 Larrikinism	was	 used	 to	 distinguish	 the	
youth	of	the	respectable	from	the	unrespectable	labouring	classes	of	the	colony,	just	as	the	term	
‘bogan’	might	be	used	today.	
	
The	author’s	 interpretation	might	shock	some,	especially	 those	hell	bent	on	romanticising	 the	
distinctly	Australian	rebellious	streak	of	 larrikin	men,	but	not	all	 larrikins	were	male.	Melissa	
Bellanta’s	 original	 historical	 research	 has	 finally	 uncovered	 what	 many	 female	 scholars,	
including	myself,	have	always	suspected	hidden	–	that	 the	young	women	of	 the	colonies	were	
not	just	‘gimme	girls’,	‘brazen	huzzies’	or	‘donahs’	prepared	to	put	up	with	any	amount	of	abuse,	
violence	and	disrespect.	‘Colonial	larrikin	girls	were	every	bit	as	showy	and	vulgarly	confident	
as	the	boys’	(p.	32).	Influenced	by	the	style	and	culture	of	burlesque	female	performances,	they	
were	not	‘just	a	root’,	or	passive	object	of	sexual	gratification	but	’worked	up	their	own	sense	of	
same	sex	solidarity;	their	own	friendships,	animosities	and	rivalries’	(p.	46)	‘to	compensate	for	
the	easy	brutality	of	boys	and	contempt	of	colonial	society	at	large’	(p.	46).	
	
This	book	confronts	the	reader	with	indisputable	evidence	that	 larrikins	should	not	simply	be	
romanticised.	Most	confronting	is	the	chapter	on	the	Mount	Rennie	outrage,	about	the	gang	rape	
of	Mary	Jane	Hicks,	an	orphan	from	Bathurst.		Initially	16	boys	were	investigated;	11	were	put	
on	 trial,	 and	 nine	 convicted	 and	 sentenced	 to	 hang	 although,	 after	 successful	 requests	 to	 the	
governor	 for	clemency,	only	 four	did.	The	case	has	been	a	cause	célèbre	ever	since	(p.	89).	No	
doubt	this	case	entailed	elements	of	rough	justice,	with	some	of	the	boys	unfairly	prosecuted	for	
merely	being	associates	of	the	Waterloo	push;	and	many,	including	myself,	would	never	defend	
the	use	of	the	death	penalty	for	any	crime,	including	rape.	Looking	back,	what’s	so	remarkable	is	
that	 any	of	 these	young	men	were	prosecuted	at	all.	By	my	 reckoning,	having	studied	 similar	
cases	of	rape	and	murder	in	more	contemporary	times	(Carrington	1998),	impunity	would	have	
been	a	more	likely	outcome	for	these	lads	if	they’d	been	born	a	century	later,			
	
Larrikins	were	also	convicted	for	homophobic‐	and	racist‐motivated	crimes	of	violence,	revenge	
and	hatred.	Even	though	there	was	proximity	between	the	social	networks	and	cultural	spaces	
of	 inner	 city	 pushes	 and	 underground	 male	 homosexual	 circles:	 the	 frequenting	 of	 disused	
buildings	 and	 toilet	 blocks;	 the	 sharing	 of	 boarding	 houses	 and	 prison	 cells;	 and	 the	 similar	
situations	and	conditions	experienced	by	servicemen	during	war	(Bellanta	2012:	162).	On	the	
historical	evidence	amassed	by	Bellanta,	it	seems	gay	men	were	among	the	favoured	objects	of	
larrikin	homophobia.	Immigrant	Chinese	settlers	of	the	gold	rushes	were	also	chosen	victims	of	
attack.	Bellanta	reminds	us	it’s	a	bit	like	the	Cronulla	riot	participants	of	2005	driving	around	in	
cars	with	bumper	stickers	‐	‘fuck	off,	we’re	full’.		
	
There	 is	 so	 much	 to	 commend	 this	 book	 that	 I	 would	 nominate	 Melissa	 Bellanta	 for	 a	
Queensland	 literary	award	–	except	 that	 these	have	been	extinguished	by	the	recently	elected	
cultural	Philistines	 in	 the	Queensland	government.	Give	me	a	 larrikin	 in	government	any	day.	
Where’s	Paul	Keating?	
	
	
References	
Carrington	K	(1998)	Who	Killed	Leigh	Leigh?	Sydney:	Random	House.	


Bellanta, Melissa (2012) Larrikins: A History. Brisbane: University of Queensland Press.

Using  interview data on LGBT young people’s policing experiences, I argue  policing and security works as a program of government (Dean 1999;  Foucault 1991; Rose 1999) that constrains the visibilities of diverse  sexuality and gender in public spaces. While young people narrated  police actions as discriminatory, the interactions were complex and  multi-faceted with police and security working to subtly constrain the  public visibilities of ‘queerness’. Same sex affection, for instance,  was visibly yet unverifiably (Mason 2002) regulated by police as a  method of governing the boundaries of proper gender and sexuality in  public. The paper concludes by noting how the visibility of police  interactions with LGBT young people demonstrates to the public that  public spaces are, and should remain, heterosexual spaces

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Invalidation: A Neglected Dimension of Gender-based Violence and Inequality

Bellanta, Melissa (2012) Larrikins: A History. Brisbane: University of Queensland Press.

Policing Visible Sexual/Gender Diversity as a Program of Governance

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