The place of public space in the lives of Middle

The place of public space in the lives of Middle Eastern women migrants in Australia Authors 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Dr Roja Gholamhosseini, The University of Queensland, [email protected] Dr Dorina Pojani, The University of Queensland, [email protected] Dr Iderlina Mateo Babiano, The University of Melbourne, [email protected] Ms Laurel Johnson, The University of Queensland, [email protected] A/Prof John Minnery, The University of Queensland, [email protected]

All authors are based in Australia.

This is an Authors’ Original Manuscript of an article whose final and definitive form, the Version of Record, has been published in Journal of Urban Design, 2018, copyright Taylor & Francis, available online at: https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/13574809.2018.1498293

Abstract For Middle Eastern migrants to Australia, the process of acculturation is compounded by Islamophobia, which is on the rise, with many incidents occurring in public spaces and targeting women. Through in-depth interviews, this article examines how women migrants from the Middle East, especially Muslim ones, are affected. The study finds that Middle Eastern women migrants have a different perspective on public space compared to local populations, and this difference stems from their cultural, political, and religious backgrounds. These findings can help cities create inclusive and culturally-sensitive public spaces, which catalyse a “sense of belonging” and “sense of place” among migrants.

Keywords Migration; gender; Middle East; public space; multi-culturalism; Islamophobia.

Acknowledgement Many thanks are owed to all the participants in this study, who gave up considerable time to be interviewed.

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Introduction International migrants must undergo a difficult process of acculturation, during which new attachments are formed to a new place. For Middle Eastern migrants to Australia, this process is compounded by Islamophobia, which is on the rise - although current census data show that Muslims constitute only 2.6% of the total Australian population, and many of those are nonpracticing. Women are among the main targets of Islamophobia, and perpetrators are more likely to be male. Many Islamophobic incidents occur in public spaces - crowded ones that are frequented daily (Ozalp 2017; Siddique 2017).1 How does this situation affect women migrants from the Middle East, especially Muslim ones, in Australia? What are their perceptions and experiences in and of public space? Through ethnographic observations and in-depth interviews of 25 women, this study examines these research questions. The ultimate purpose is to help cities create inclusive public spaces, which catalyse a “sense of belonging” and a “sense of place” among migrants, thus sustaining multiculturalism, social harmony, and community bonds (Bastian 2012). These outcomes are important everywhere but especially so in aspiring new “world cities” such as Brisbane, Australia, in which this study is set. Many commentators have noted that cultural sensitivity in public space design is crucial if migrant needs are to be met and their ‘right to the city’ acknowledged (Amin 2008, Madanipour 2010, Sandercock 2003). For example, Amin (2008, p. 15) takes the position that “simply throwing open public spaces to mixed-use and to all who wish to participate is to give sway to practices that may serve the interests of the powerful, the menacing and the intolerant.” Yet, public space has rarely been studied from the perspective of Middle Eastern women migrants to western cities. The present study is concerned with “subjective” public space rather than “objective” space as conceived by urban planners. Theoretically, the research builds a bridge between urban planning and gender and migration studies (Sandercock 2003). The research hypothesis is that Middle Eastern women migrants have a different perspective on public space compared to local Australian populations, and this difference is likely to stem from their cultural, political, and religious backgrounds (Yılmaz 2015; Crocco et al. 2009; Schroeder 2009; Krämer 2013; Sawalha 2014). However, on a macro level, women migrants from the Middle East are likely to share similarities with other migrant groups who seek to find secure ground in a new environment.

Theoretical background The theory that underpins this research on Middle Eastern women migrants’ experience of public space consists of a series of nested concepts: (a) public space, its definition and qualities; (b) women’s experience of public space; (c) Middle Eastern women’s experience of public space, and (d) migrants’ experience of public space. These concepts are succinctly reviewed below. Their relationship, as conceptualised in this paper, is illustrated in Figure 1. The following review is necessarily a simplified version of a very complex and nuanced picture.

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Incidents have been recorded in other Western countries, such as France and the United States (see Johnson and Miles 2014; Kwan 2002).

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Figure 1. Conceptual diagram.

Public space: definition and qualities At a surface level, public space can be considered as representation; in other words, as a symbol identical to its form, function, or features: park vs. plaza, animate vs. contemplative, enclosed vs. boundless, green vs. concrete, waterfront promenade vs. city square., etc. However, in the western philosophical tradition - originating from Classical Antiquity - public space has been conceived as a political and inclusive arena (an idealized Greek agora) in dialectic opposition to private space - the latter being the realm of domesticity and individuality. In ‘public’ space, citizens interact and reach decisions on matters of common concern through democratic deliberation. Attributes and functions such as publicness, political debate, and inclusiveness bestow public space its theoretical and practical importance (Habermas 1989). In reality, the boundaries between what is public and what is private are ever-shifting, and therefore somewhat elusive. As an example, sidewalk cafés, shopping malls, and other ‘privatized public spaces,’ are a compromise between ownership as an indicator of the ‘private’ and accessibility/use as a component of the ‘public.’ Moreover, public space also serves as a sort of communal playground and gym - in other words, it serves an entertainment and health function, not only a political function. 3

Finally, contemporary society is diverse, fragmented, atomized even, and different groups and individuals can hardly be expected to share the same concept of public space. Feminist critics contend that a universal public space never existed, and public space was always monopolized by (elite) men while other key groups, including women, migrants, and ethnic minorities, were pushed out of sight or muted. Women were relegated to the domestic sphere while migrants were penned in ethnic ghettoes. As such, social inequalities were highlighted rather than reduced, and public space (as a political space) became just another tool for social control and legitimization of elite and/or male power (Sandercock 2003; Rose 1993). Contemporary public space privatization trends further constrain access, participation, and interaction. These limitations result in exclusive, segregated, monological, depoliticized, and passive urban spaces in which migrants and women are still excluded and displaced (Toolis 2017). In response to this evolving understanding of space and society, a few trialectic conceptualizations of public space have been proposed. The most well-known is Henri Lefebvre’s (1991) triad: the conceived, perceived, and experienced (or lived) space. The three elements of this triad correspond to physical space, mental space, and social space, respectively. A variant is Edward Soja’s (1996) triad: first space; second space; and third space. First space is the built environment, second space is a utopian and subjective space, and third space blurs the borders between the subjective and the objective, the real and the imagined. These trialectic concepts of public space recognize diversity and individualism – the keywords of the post-modern era. Building on these theoretical foundations, a plethora of studies have been produced on how to design ‘good’ public spaces that invite rather than alienate users. Terms such as ‘place-making’, ‘place identity’ and ‘liveability’ have entered the vocabulary of urban designers and planners worldwide. However, design preferences are likely to differ from place to place based on cultural values, gender perspectives, and a multitude of other factors. Clearly, there can also be differences in preferences for a particular space, depending on the values and perspectives of the observers.

Women and public space In early 20th-century Western cities, capitalist industrialization, suburbanization and the cult of domesticity resulted in cities bifurcated along gender lines: suburbs defined as a private sphere and the domain of women and city centres defined as the public sphere of men. Consequently, venturing forth in public space – especially nocturnal space – became associated with permissive and surreptitious activities (Yeoh and Huang 1998). Confined in the home, women have a constricted view of the urban space which, among other issues, precludes access to the labour market (Pojani et al. 2017). Western feminist and post-colonial commentators have typically encouraged and celebrated the right of female and ethnic counter-publics to assert themselves in the public space (Spain 2016). However, the literature has also established that to satisfy women’s needs, public spaces must embody certain characteristics including provisions for safety, shelter, and privacy. Scholars writing on the topic of safety have had to thread a fine line between acknowledging women’s higher levels of fear or vulnerability to physical, sexual, or psychological harm, and avoiding gender stereotypes that cast women as fragile and defenceless (Listerborn 2016; Hengehold 2011; Koskela 1997).

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While Western societies are becoming more accepting of diversity, multiculturalism, and equity, critics have also noted an increasing emphasis of individuals on their private life, family, and intimate friends. Introspective trends, driven by the rise of secularism, capitalism, and new technologies (the Internet and social media), have led to a decline of public life and to political apathy among all genders. By contrast, public life is increasingly seen as a matter of dry formal relations, while the introspective obsession on private life has become a trap, absorbing the attention of individuals rather than liberating them (Sennett 2003). A feminist commentator notes that, while in the 1970s women fled the home to join the workforce - and thus became a major presence in public space - now they are no longer looking to the public sphere with expectations of liberation. Instead, “they are fleeing to yoga… They’re striving, through exquisite new adventures in internal fine-tuning, to feel more deeply, live more meaningfully…” (New York Times 9 January 2011, p. MM11). It is unclear whether this is a narcissistic enterprise or a path to spiritual enlightenment.

Middle Eastern women and public space In the Middle East, women’s relationship to public space is complicated not only by their gender, but also their age, religious beliefs, position in the social hierarchy, and views about the wearing of the hijab (a veil that covers the hair and chest) or burqa (a veil that covers the face and body) (OECD 2014). Although not all Middle Eastern women are Muslim, the majority, both in the Middle East and in the research which underpins this paper, are. Thus, a word on Muslim women’s veil is in order before moving on to other issues. In Islam, there is an obligation for women to cover their body and hair to signify modesty. Sharia (Islamic law) does not prescribe the covering of the face, hands, or feet. However, in some Middle Eastern societies women are expected (or even forced) to cover their face while in public, or wherever there is a possibility of coming into visual contact with non-Mahram men (i.e., nonrelatives). Other women choose to wear the hijab or burqa in order to feel safe, clearly define their identity, and position themselves in society (Westfall et al. 2016). The duty and/or right of Muslim women to wear a veil in public are hotly contested topics in feminist theory, as well as in political and religious studies (Afshar 2008; Ahmed 2011). Some consider the veil as a symbol of oppression and an obstacle to the development of Muslim women. Others believe that wearing a veil is an individual choice (the same as sporting dreadlocks for Rastafarians), and that battles surrounding women’s bodies and clothing go against equity principles. In some cases, the hijab has served as a symbol of resistance - for example to forced internal modernization, as in the case of Turkey during Ataturk’s reforms or Iran during Reza Shah’s reforms, or to external invasion, as in the case of Bosnia during the war with Serbia (El Guindi 1999). A focus on the veil simplifies the discourse on the presence of women in public space in Middle Eastern countries - as does the tendency of some Western commentators to reduce Muslim women’s emancipation to the wearing of Western dress (Ehrkamp 2010). Certainly, in the Middle East religion is the main basis of society and shapes the framework of everyday life. But aside from wearing a veil, women here must navigate a complex set of behavioural rules in public space - determined by a host of other socio-cultural factors (Thompson 2003, Ahmed 2007). These apply to non-Muslim women as well - who constitute nearly half of all women in Lebanon and nearly a fifth in Turkey (Chamberlin 2011).

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At the same time, studies set in the Middle East of women’s relationship to public and private space have generally revealed a fluid continuum of the two - in contrast to the classic public/private dichotomy prevalent in the West. For example, alleyways are technically ‘public spaces’ in urban planning documents; however they are considered as private spaces during the daytime when men are at work, and local women appropriate them for domestic chores or social gatherings (Mazumdar 2001; Mills 2007).

Migrants and public space Out-migration from the Middle East is on the rise due to state authoritarianism, religious extremism, and political violence in the region. Often migrants are well educated and belong to the middle classes; they choose Western countries as their destination (Ross-Sheriff 2011; Dhar 2012). Once relocated, migrants undergo a process of adaptation and acculturation. Currently, this process is fraught with difficulties. It involves adjustment on the part of host countries as well, many of which were previously dominated by one cultural or ethnic group (white, Christian). Much has been written on the project of multi-culturalism, especially in Europe, and commentators disagree on its level of success (Sandercock 2003, Parker 2011, Bastian 2012). Host countries have often refused to adjust to migrant ‘others’, citing irreconcilable differences between the tenets of Western liberal democratic citizenship and supposedly unenlightened non-Western cultural practices (especially Islamic ones) which disrespect and subordinate women (Ehrkamp 2010).1 Middle Eastern migrant women, in particular, are often portrayed in patronising and condescending terms by Western (often male) commentators: they are oppressed, their education is deficient, their culture is fixed, and they do not have control over their sexuality. Sexual emancipation and multiculturalism are pitched against one another. Not infrequently, Western publics expect Middle Eastern migrants to reject Islamic practices wholesale, as precondition for full citizenship (Ehrkamp 2010). Challenges notwithstanding, sustaining social harmony by focusing on similarities rather than cultural differences remains crucial - especially in settler countries such as Australia, which now also encompass large portions of first generation migrants (Sandercock 2003). How does public space affect bonds between migrants and host cities? Studies on place attachment offer insights (see Altman and Low 1992; Dahl and Sorenson 2010, Nielsen-Pincus et al. 2010). Place attachment is loosely defined as the emotional connection between people and a particular place or environment. In psychology, such attachment is considered as an integral aspect of being human. Place attachment tends to be stronger when (a) people are more familiar with their local environment and its symbols, (b) people associate a place with meaningful events in their lives, (c) people feel safe, supported, and ‘permanent’ in their community; (d) people have a sense of autonomy, control, and power over their environment; and (e) people feel stimulated by their environment (Manzo and Devine-Wright 2014). The place attachment concept is very relevant to migration studies, as migrants must often process their grief over severed bonds to past places, and struggle to gradually forge new bonds to foreign environments in host countries (Hernández et al. 2007; Lewicka 2011; Dahl and Sorenson 2010). There are two principal theories about place attachment among migrants: (1) migrants have no initial place attachment to the host country but over time transfer their attachment from the origin country onto the host country; and (2) migrants keep developing place attachment to both the host and the origin countries simultaneously, although the image of the origin country might be somewhat idealized or distorted from afar (Castles 2002; Gustafson 2009). The length of stay is a 6

key variable in determining the strength of place attachment among migrants. The presence of green spaces in cities is also important - perhaps because nature is regarded as a peaceful and unifying element (Peters et al. 2016). Finally, exposure to public space in the host country is crucial. For example, employers of migrant female domestic workers in wealthy Southeast Asian countries often discourage them from leaving the house - even on their off-day - out of fear that these young women will be exposed to ‘moral and social pollution’. Their presence in public space being highly circumscribed, poor female migrants are then constructed as ‘other’ in the public realm. At the same time, because of its open and levelling nature, public space affords more ‘privacy’ to migrant female domestic workers who are under their employers’ constant surveillance and control while inside private homes (Yeoh and Huang 1998). Some commentators have raised concerns that globalization and public space homogenization is shattering the fragile bonds between individuals and their environments everywhere. According to this view, all modern humans suffer from ‘loss of place” or ‘placelessness’ - not only recent migrants (Relph 1983). This makes research on subjective public space perceptions and experiences all the more urgent.

Method The study setting and data collection and analysis process are described below. To reiterate, the research objectives are the following: (1) Investigate Middle Eastern migrant women’s perceptions and experiences in and of public space; and (2) Examine whether and/or how Islamophobia affects such perceptions and experiences.

Study setting This study was set in Brisbane, the capital of the state of Queensland in eastern Australia, and the third largest city in the country in terms of population. Based on the most recent Census (2016), Brisbane contains a little over one million inhabitants in the city and about two and a half million in the metropolitan area. Since the mid-1970s, and particularly from the 1980s, Brisbane has experienced large-scale immigration. Until recently, the local population was growing faster than any other Australian region – which makes Brisbane an appropriate setting for this type of research. According to the current Census, more than one third of Brisbane’s population is born overseas. Only 2% of migrants come from the Middle East (compared to nearly 5% in Australia overall). More than half of Middle Eastern migrants are from Iran (1% of all international migrants), followed by Iraq, Egypt, Lebanon, and Turkey. Most other migrants to Brisbane come from the Anglosphere and East Asia. Culturally, Brisbane is considered as conservative within Australia relative to more cosmopolitan cities such as Sydney and Melbourne (Insch and Bowden 2016). The incidence of physical assaults of Muslims is notably high in Queensland considering the relatively small population of Muslims in the state (Ozalp 2017). Figure 2 shows the distribution of Middle Eastern migrants in the Brisbane metropolitan region in 2011. Most have settled in the inner city and south of the river, and some level of clustering is evident. Preliminary observations and inquiries suggested that being near a Mosque and having access to halal food shops are key reasons dictating choice of neighbourhood. Housing affordability and proximity to co-nationals are other important considerations.

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Figure 2. Distribution of Middle Eastern migrants in Brisbane. Map based on 2011 census data.

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In terms of spatial qualities, by international standards, Brisbane is a safe city, clean, wellmaintained, and lush with parks and vegetation. Located approximately one half hour inland from the Pacific Ocean, it is intersected by a large navigable river. Jobs, commercial activities, and entertainment venues are concentrated in the CBD; there are some suburban high streets, and a number of US-style suburban shopping malls. Housing is predominately detached single-family (more than 60% in the city), and sprawls in all directions. Public schools are centrally funded and therefore differences in quality are moderate from suburb to suburb (compared to decentralized contexts such as the US). The inner city area is well-served by public transport, and contains a three-block long pedestrian mall and a riverside popular park (South Bank). The public transport network extends to most suburbs but the services are less frequent. Car ownership per household is high (over 80%).

Data and analysis This research was guided by the tenets of phenomenology, a sub-discipline of philosophy and psychology. Phenomenology is concerned with a person’s perception and experience of the meaning of an event, situation, or space, as opposed to the event, situation, or space as they exist ‘objectively’ (or externally to that person). Typically, phenomenological studies focus on the shared experiences of small groups of participants (Smith et al. 2009). In this case, the research set out to understand the perception and meaning of public space in the everyday lives of migrant women from Middle Eastern countries. The definition of ‘Middle East’ in this study encompassed countries in Asia (including Turkey) but not in Europe (i.e., Cyprus) or Africa (i.e., the Maghreb). The research approach was qualitative, which is appropriate for phenomenological research. Twenty-five semi-structured interviews were conducted; each lasted 1-2 hours. Interviews were complemented by ethnographic observations (for example, at ethnic festivals or other local events). Purposive snowball sampling was applied to select information-rich participants. Australian ethnic and religious websites and organizations, religious centres, and ethnic shops were also approached in order to recruit participants. Potential participants were then screened based on three criteria: Middle Eastern origin, female gender, and a minimum of four years of residency in Brisbane. Using these criteria resulted in a diverse sample in terms of age, country of origin, religion, migration reasons, marital status, income, duration of residency, number and age of children, employment status and type, and residential location. The interviews were conducted in English, recorded, and transcribed. Inductive data analysis was conducted in NVivo (themes were derived directly from the data rather than from a priori theories). The analysis process followed a series of cumulative coding cycles aimed at developing composite textural-structural descriptions of the lived experiences of participants. The challenge of textural descriptions was to answer the question of ‘what’ participants thought and felt about public space as described in their own words. Constituting a ‘pre-reflective’ stage of inquiry, the textures included any emotional and physical descriptions that participants offered. Structural descriptions revealed the mental process used in thinking and perceiving the experience – in other words, ‘how’ public space was experienced (Moustakas 1994). The themes derived from this analysis are reported below.

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Findings The interview material reveals five main themes: (1) Flexible meaning of public/private spaces; (2) Building a sense of place; (3) Direct and reverse stereotyping; (4) The right to the ‘Western’ city; and (5) Safety and surveillance. These themes are discussed below. Any identifying details of the participants have been withheld, and only stronger quotes are reported. To protect the participants’ privacy, ‘thick description’- i.e., life histories and life circumstances - has been avoided. While participants are not native English speakers, the quotes have not been edited in order to preserve their authenticity.

Flexible meaning of public/private spaces To most participants, ‘public’ space is any space that does not afford the protection and belonging of home, as exemplified in the following quote: When you walk out of your home, when you open the door, step out of your place and close the door, you are not in your private ground (Interviewee 1, 30s, Iraqi).

However, all the participants state that in the first months of migration it was “nearly impossible to feel home” even while inside their houses. To overcome the sense of loss, many interviewees had tried to reproduce in Australia the home décor style of their origin country, or surrounded themselves with photos and mementos from their homeland. Some participants define public vs private space based on the language which they are expected to use (English vs their native language). For religious women, having a private space, in which to withdraw to pray and practice solitude, is more important than having access to vibrant public spaces. Previous research involving Middle Eastern women migrants (to Canada) has also found that private homes are the core site for prayer. This everyday practice - central to identity - is seamlessly integrated into the temporality and spatiality of everyday chores. Lacking substantial religious buildings in a host country, migrant women render their faith visible in public space through their embodied practices - such as prayer slots (Dyck and Dossa 2007). In our sample, religious women self-restrict their behaviour in public space based on the teachings of Islam, and therefore the theoretical freedoms afforded to the public in the West are irrelevant: …when I say [I can do] anything I want [in public space], [I mean] anything that is based on our holy book the Quran… (Interviewee 4, 20s, Saudi Arabian).

For most other participants too, it is the private rather than the public domain that is truly associated with freedom. Home is the only place in which they can be “themselves” and express their identity. Here is where they can make and follow their own rules - as opposed to following rules set by others (i.e., local governments), as required in public spaces. To some participants, even their backyards are not entirely private, especially if unfenced - nor are their front-rooms if uncurtained and they can be seen. Based on previous research findings, this need for privacy might stem from a lack of familiarity and comfort with Australian neighbours who might follow a different set of standards (Foddy and Finighan 1980). It may also have historical roots: there is no equivalent of the democratic agora or forum in the Middle East. Here, public spaces have been historically associated with religious buildings which controlled and regulated behaviour. There is also a hint of rebelliousness in some responses. This likely stems from a strained relationship with authoritarian governments in the origin countries, now projected onto the Australian government:

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…in Iran we are banned from using alcohol… We all did this sort of thing which was against law in our private places, our home, our friend’s home (Interviewee 2, 30s, Iranian). My friend’s home [in Australia] definitely is a private place. They have their own rules, yeah, but still not the rules from outside, like from the government… (Interviewee 3, 50s, Iranian).

Older participants, including those who have spent a long time in Australia, share concepts of public and private space which are more consistent with Middle Eastern concepts (see Thompson 2003, Krämer 2013). Holding on their “ways” of their home country might be a strategy for older women to assert their bond and loyalty to their community. By contrast, younger women are willing to negotiate and revise their understanding of public vs. private space: The balcony of your apartment is meant to be your private place but you can’t just go on your balcony and hang your laundry when you’re in your shorts in Iran. Here in Australia, you can do that because it’s your private place and nobody is meant to be watching you (Interviewee 6, 20s, Iranian).

However, for some interviewees, home is a place of conflict as much as it is one of comfort. This is typically the case when their male family members force them to endure a strict patriarchal lifestyle which is different to what is the accepted norm in Australia. In some cases, conflicts over the presence of women in public space can escalate to psychological abuse, as the following interviewee (now divorced) reports: My husband prefer me to see my friend at our home or their home… He says it is not safe and it is not good to go outside like [to] shopping centres (Interviewee 6, 20s, Iranian).

Some participants feel that the alien vs. comforting dichotomy is more relevant to them than the public vs. private dichotomy of space which is emphasized by Western theorists. For example, to many, private shopping malls are crucial social spaces. But some interviewees recognize that, in truly public spaces (as opposed to malls, cafés, and other privatized public spaces) there is a special sense of freedom: [Public space is] where I am allowed and everyone else is allowed too (Interviewee 3, 50s, Iranian).

Building a sense of place Notwithstanding the importance of private space, interviews reveal that public spaces can play an important role in creating a ‘sense of place’ and a ‘sense of belonging’ for Middle Eastern migrant women. Participants employ various strategies to inhabit and appropriate new and unfamiliar Australian urban space. As noted, neighbourhood-based public spaces - parks but also shopping malls - are considered central to strengthening social relationships. But these spaces must be accessible and available, possess aesthetic qualities, and display clear maps and signage. In this sense, the views and preferences of Middle Eastern women reflect those of other Brisbane residents and other migrants. Tranquillity and warm weather are sought- after features for some women. They seek scenic public spaces in which to relax and retreat from “stressful city life,” and Brisbane’s mild weather with minimal seasonal variation is very conducive to outdoor activities in nature. One participant (Interviewee 12, 30s, Iraqi) notes that spending time “in an indoor boring place” (e.g., a café or bar) is “out of the question” for her when beautiful parks and blue skies are available. Some participants come from large crowded cities with very little green space or with dry, desert climates, and therefore appreciate Brisbane’s garden-city nature and lush vegetation. Many also highlight their appreciation for child-friendly and disabled-friendly design in Brisbane’s public spaces, which differs from their home countries. 11

Those women who have moved to Australia in a time of political or personal crisis highlight the therapeutic value of Brisbane’s greenery, especially during their initial adjustment period: I was on the edge when I arrive here. I was going to [divorce] and go back home just because I was so lonely and detached. Then I began to walk sometimes for hours; just the walking in this beautiful environment help me to stay. And then I find a job and I started liking here and having friends and having my own activities here (Interviewee 13, 30s, Lebanese).

Conversely, women who have migrated from countries with temperate climates find Brisbane’s sub-tropical climate and evergreen vegetation too alien. They long for the “warm colours of the tree leaves in autumn” and the changing seasons. Brisbane’s cleanliness is a favourite trait, and it is often contrasted to some Middle Eastern urban settings where “people do not care and leave their garbage in streets and parks and everywhere” (Interviewee 16, 40s, Turkish). Participants also report an enhanced sense of place when they find features in their new habitat that remind them of home. For example: I’m from a city that have a river. Sometimes [the Brisbane River] remind me of my city... [Interviewee 9, 40s, Iraqi]

While some participants prefer nature, hygiene, and tranquillity, others long for a lively and gritty urban lifestyle, which in Brisbane is only available within a restricted (and largely unaffordable) area in the inner city. Participants in this group report missing the dense and dynamic urbanity of their hometowns, and dread Brisbane’s quiet and mono-functional suburbs: I’m not a country girl. I’m a city girl and I like a busy environment of cities … seeing people, they are alive, moving… (Interviewee 11, 30s, Turkish).

One interviewee (Interviewee 9, 40s, Iraqi) equates living in a suburb (the only place she could afford) to living in the desert. Many complain about a lack of nightlife opportunities - in contrast to their never-sleeping hometowns in the Middle East. One participant stresses that in her hometown (Dubai) malls stay open until 3am, and nightlife is active although it does not follow the alcohol-centric model of western cities. Another participant describes the initial shock of finding out that commercial establishments close so early in the evening in Brisbane: Some days after our arrival we had all got dressed to go out but everything, all the shops, were closed and it was still daylight (Interviewee 17, 40s, Lebanese).

Research demonstrates that some portions of the western publics share these views and, consequently a number of cities are making an effort to encourage street life at night. However, the 24h city concept is not without critics. While it appeals to youth, tourists, or particular subcultures, it is seen as detrimental for other groups (Hae 2011). Notwithstanding the foregoing issues, several participants, in particular long-term migrants, report that settling into daily or weekly routines performed in specific places has helped anchor them to their host city and neighbourhood. This finding echoes Seamon’s (1980) notion of ‘place-ballet,’ which is founded on habit and routine but also on a supportive physical environment. It is also in line with Lewicka’s (2011) observation that some people only form passive attachments to place - a so-called ‘everyday rootedness’.

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Other participants display a more active form of place attachment - conceptualized by Lewicka (2011) as ‘ideological rootedness’. They have made a conscious effort to establish connections to their new environment, as the following quote points out: It is important to know about the history of the suburb you want to buy house in it…You know people more in this way… (Interviewee 8, 40s, Iranian).

In line with migration literature, three stages of acculturation are evident: initially, nearly exclusive bonds with one’s ethnic community; later, gradual detachment and more contact with local Australian communities; eventually for some (but not all), full integration with Australian society. Access to local public spaces such as golf clubs, outdoor concert stages, community halls, or even barbeque stands has greatly helped migrant women engage more with Australian communities, as this quote illustrates: There was a time, few months after I arrived in Brisbane, I was a member of a choir and I - we used to rehearse every week and we used to have concerts in public. We rehearsed at the church in the city. It was a nice experience. Gave me confidence when I need it most. Now I’m a member of a professional choir… (Interviewee 11, 30s, Turkish).

Participants’ accounts also suggest that organizing and/or participating in festivals - for example to celebrate Ramadan Eid al-Fitr - are crucial in forging a sense of belonging (see McClinchey 2014). Parties, dancing, singing, cooking, and food-sharing are important features of community life in the Middle East (El Hamamsy and Soliman 2013) - and their transposition to an Australian setting makes participants feel at home. Moreover, this is also an opportunity to proudly display their homeland’s crafts, music, and food to locals - who also reportedly enjoy ethnic festivals even if they might not fully grasp their religious or cultural significance: [Australians] don’t really know when [the Persian New Year] is, but when they walk around and they see all this, they are so surprised seeing all these happy people. They’re dancing everywhere. They’re singing. They’re kind of drunk sometimes. I think [Australians] like it, yeah (Interviewee 8, 40s, Iranian).

Ethnic festivals may be a subtle and non-confrontational way of constructing migrant ‘counterspaces’ which challenge dominant social practices. During festivals, Middle Eastern women can impress their own cultural ‘style’ on the public landscape – through dress, music, food, behaviour and a general inversion of public norms (see Yeoh and Huang 1998). Festivals may also be a way of holding in tension the cultural knowledge of ‘home’ - e.g., the cooking of traditional recipes from scratch - with that of dominant narratives of Australian belonging. For parents, these practices are crucial in providing children opportunities to be ‘flexible citizens’ who will be connected to a remembered, symbolic homeland as well as citizens of Australia (see Dyck and Dossa 2007). However, many participants are eager to partake in other types of celebrations, such as the annual LGBT Pride Parade, which are not normally associated with the Middle East. Being part of events which are important to locals enables migrant women to integrate in Australian public places and society. Most participants are encouraged by the fact that Australian cities are increasingly diverse and multicultural, and that theirs is not the only ‘different’ group.

Direct and reverse stereotyping For religiously observant Muslim women, the wearing of a veil is the key determinant in defining public vs. private space. (Five participants wear a hijab regularly while in public and one wears it occasionally.) In line with the literature (Westfall et al. 2016; Secor 2002), this choice is certainly 13

based on religious and family beliefs, but it is also a way for women to demonstrate loyalty and commitment to their homeland and their local ethnic communities by proudly positioning themselves as Muslim in a Western secular society. To some women, wearing a veil provides a layer of symbolic protection too. There is also some evidence of peer and familial pressure, and respect for social convention, as the following quote demonstrates: I have one of my colleagues, she’s Muslim, but she doesn’t wear hijab at work. But she said she does when she goes to a friend’s place or relatives (Interviewee 7, 20s, Iraqi).

The women who wear the veil regularly are extremely sensitive about non-Muslim’s reactions to them. This is due to raising Islamophobic sentiments in Australia, noted earlier. Veiled women feel that, in recent years the gaze of strangers is often pointed “at the piece of fabric on my head” (Interviewee 7, 20s, Iraq). Countless episodes of mistreatment and verbal abuse are recounted, which have tended to intensify in the aftermath of terrorist attacks in Australia or elsewhere. A few participants relate that they would like to wear a hijab but avoid it for fear of exposing themselves to religious intolerance. Self-consciousness while in public is exacerbated by a Middle Eastern cultural tendency towards self-criticism, conformism, and approval-seeking. This contrasts to Western culture which promotes self-esteem and self-expression. While these notions might appear stereotypical and orientalist, they have been internalized by the participants. On the other hand, some women have moved to Australia precisely to avoid the requirement in some Middle Eastern countries that all women wear a veil in public, as one participant explains: … I didn’t like the situation of Iran, I hated to wear hijab but they said that we have to wear hijab. … I said I have to get married to someone that take me away from this country. I don’t like my country anymore, and I hated hijab, because they forced the women to wear hijab. I was lucky I had a man that could bring me out of Iran, we got married and we left the country (Interviewee 8, 40s, Iranian).

While this participant hints at escaping religious and patriarchal authority, patriarchy is not perpetuated only by men: most study participants state that it is “safer,” “more appropriate,” or “right” for girls to live with their parents until they get married. Unveiled women feel much less gender-based judgement and scrutiny in Australian public space than in their hometowns: The good thing is people [in Brisbane] don’t too much make attention to each other. People feeling, okay, this is my business and not your business and that’s your business not my business… you feel free sometimes of judgment of people (Interviewee 3, 50s, Iranian). …when I was in public transport systems in Turkey, I felt like everybody is talking. They want to talk to you. They stare at you. They want to be involved with you at some point. But here you rarely find people who ask for something or who stare at you… (Interviewee 16, 40s, Turkish).

However, nearly all participants have experienced some judgmental attitudes based on their race, ethnicity, or religion. For example, participants note that Australians tend to equate all Middle Eastern migrants with Arabs - which offends Iranians, Turks, and Israelis. The Middle East is imagined as a mega-desert, and participants often find themselves in a position of having to challenge that image and prove to locals that “we have no camels on the streets.” Some participants believe that prejudice affects Middle Eastern men more than women, as the former are perceived as more threatening due to their gender. A few note that they have not been subject to prejudice because they “do not look Middle Eastern.” Others point out that, while Australians respect the privacy of others, this implies detachment and indifference - characteristics which do not bode well for the integration of migrants. 14

As a consequence of the frustration produced by these fraught interactions, participants resort to reverse stereotyping and paint Australians as “shallow,” “uncurious,” or “lacking a basic knowledge of the world.” But to some participants, who have left behind a turbulent past, the Australian “carefree lifestyle,” supposedly centred on surfing and barbequing, is a significant motivator to integrate in local society and enjoy life in their host city. Stereotyping and prejudice are not aimed only at white Australians. Citing a “stranger danger” feeling as their motivation, many participants criticize Muslim women who wear a burqa in public, Arab men who wear a thawb (ankle-length robe), other migrants who do not share their background, or even Aborigines and asylum seekers, as the following quotes reveal: …when someone like that is walking in the street with that sort of thing [a burqa]… she’s telling me, I don’t want to communicate with you. Don’t be close to me. You’re dangerous… And to be honest it is scary for me too. Anyone could be under that cover. Even a guy. And imagine being with such a person in public toilets (Interviewee 17, 50s, Lebanese). I don’t like [Arab] men with long traditional dress in street. It is not your country, you are like a guest here and you should respect their way of dressing (Interviewee 11, 30s, Turkish). I also prefer to live in Brisbane than Melbourne. Mainly the reason is that there were too many migrants there. I just prefer to live in a non-multicultural city. Yeah, that’s racist I guess. I do feel more relaxed and more comforting because I don’t face too many different cultures... (Interviewee 6, 20s, Iranian).

It is an irony of human nature that people who have been, or risk becoming, victims of stereotype and prejudice should perpetrate the same behaviours on others. It may be that some participants have internalized the views of the most conservative fractions of Australian society. Alternatively, distancing themselves from religious “extremists” or migrants that are perceived as being lower on the social rank might be a way for some participants to feel more accepted in Australia (see Macrae et al. 1996).

The right to the “Western” city In addition to stereotyping, participants report facing other barriers to exercising their right to the city. Limited English language skills are a major barrier, which leads to unsuccessful job hunting, hinders communication, lowers confidence, cuts off Middle Eastern women migrants from public space, and even renders them invisible in society (see also AMES Australia 2015). For example, this participant confides that: I prefer to watch new films at home, not because it is more comfortable, but because of the subtitles (Interviewee 13, 30s, Lebanese).

While the Australian government provides financial support to migrants who wish to take English lessons, the amount is insufficient to allow them to reach fluency. As a result, most participants look for opportunities to partake in socio-cultural events in their native languages. For some participants, mainly more recent migrants, financial exclusion is the most significant barrier to participating and belonging in public life. They feel excluded and marginalized when they cannot afford to use the same services that they used to enjoy in their homeland. This applies to extracurricular courses for school children but also entry tickets to theme parks, cinemas, and other ubiquitous privately-owned public spaces. Brisbane’s inadequate public transport provision constitutes another barrier to accessing urban spaces and services, especially for those participants who cannot drive (three participants). Locals face similar difficulties with regard to public transport access. However, for Middle Eastern 15

women migrants certain ingrained experiences might constitute a psychological barrier to using certain transport modes even where these are available. For example, until very recently it was illegal for women to ride a bicycle in Iran and to drive a car in Saudi Arabia. There are other culture-specific barriers. For example, some participants, in particular those who practice Islam, note that they feel uncomfortable using unisex public toilets, gyms, or swimming pools, or having to pray in public (if no apposite prayer room is available nearby). They would prefer some women-only facilities, especially sport-related ones, which would also serve as community spaces for Middle Eastern women migrants. However, not all participants are passive commentators. Several stress the importance of being active participants of their adaptation process to a new city and society. For this group, citizenship rights to the city are associated with cultural, environmental, and political duties. At the same time, they believe that the Australian government must make a stronger effort to explain these duties to new migrants. A deeper sense of belonging leads participants to feel responsible for, and concerned about, the improvement of public space in their city and neighbourhood, thus creating a virtuous circle. For example, one participant (Interviewee 18, 20s, Iranian) recounts gathering the courage to call the Brisbane City Council to ask for an additional street light. When the City responded positively and complied with the request, this participant felt validated and confident, because receiving such an acknowledgement of one’s role in the community is uncommon in Middle Eastern cities.

Safety and surveillance Most participants perceive Brisbane to be a safe city. Some have come from war-torn or otherwise unsafe or authoritarian countries, and they appreciate having landed in a safe haven, although some fear and suspicion lingers. The following quote illustrates these points: …this normal life [in Australia] just reminds me of when it was normal in my country… But you know [in Iraq during the war] I was always scared to go alone in the street during night. If some voices coming I would go looking back, what’s that? But I know here is not that much [danger]. There is always problem and danger everywhere but not as much as back home (Interviewee 7, 20s, Iraqi).

Generally, the visible presence of police officers and CCTV cameras in public spaces makes participants feel more comfortable. Participants who have been in Australia longer tend to be more trusting of Australian government institutions and believe that law enforcement agents will act in good faith and will protect rather than harm them. For example, one participant (Interviewee 9, 40s, Iraqi) relates that she “was stopped by a police car in entrance of my [residential] street and they asked for driving licence and ask some questions and there was an alcohol test.” Rather than suspecting a case of ethnic profiling, this experience made her feel safer as she was now “aware of constant presence of the police force.” Another participant relates the following episode: I think it was a year ago at the train station. I just thought that a man is following me. It happens only once or twice…I looked around but there was no camera. I was scared… I would feel safer if there was someone watching my back even by camera (Interviewee 4, 20s, Saudi Arabian).

However, a few participants state that they feel unsafe late at night around the CBD, especially if encountering inebriated or homeless people. In addition to fear, this may amount to another subtle form of reverse stereotyping, discussed earlier. It might also be due to the fact that shops close relatively early in Brisbane, and pedestrian traffic drops immediately afterwards. A lack of eyes on the street makes public spaces feel unsafe. One participant (Interviewee 7, 20s, Iraqi) only half16

jokingly states that her “annoying nosy neighbour is like a gem” when she arrives home late at night and the street is deserted. For some participants, the concept of “safety” is closely related to what in the West would be considered as ‘privacy’. For example, they state that they feel safe where they cannot “be seen by so many people.” The tendency of retreating from the eyes of others (men in particular) may have its roots in Middle Eastern cultural and religious traditions, which dictate strict separation between genders in both in public and private spaces, as noted. The following quote is representative: I love the restaurant by the river. Just all those little seats, like behind the trees - to make it more private for people. It’s just somewhere you want to go with your love - just sit in there and just have some private romance. I feel some kind of safe there because [although] it’s really public but no-one can see you, but then you can see everyone - it’s kind of private (Interviewee 5, 20s, Turkish).

To the participants the “masculinity” of public spaces - expressed as openness and panopticon control - is perceived as obstructing or even as dangerous. Spaces with “feminine” characteristics - enclosed, indeterminate, labyrinthine, uncentred (Wilson 1992) - are preferred in terms of safety and psychological comfort. For some participants, even the presence of CCTV cameras (a sort of mechanical “eye” watching them and monitoring their every move) is a source of anxiety and insecurity. This links to their experience of being under constant control and surveillance in their home countries - by governments and by family members. Conspiracy theories and fears of being spied on are common (see Johnson and Miles 2014). Some participants imagine that CCTV cameras “take images of our everyday movements at any time of the day” and these images are leaked to the Australian and their homeland government to hurt them. Echoing the sentiment of many western commentators (see Foddy and Finighan 1980), they state that a “controlled space” cannot be considered as “fully public”: You know? A place where someone watch you and control you all the time is not a public place. There are lots of cameras, policemen, security men and many many other people; they like to control you. I know it is for my own safety but then why I don’t feel safe when I see them? Isn’t it funny? (Interviewee 9, 40s, Iraqi).

Some participants, in particular Iranian women, note that they become agitated when seeing police patrols. Sometimes even hearing police sirens increases their heart rate because it triggers memories of unpleasant experiences in their homeland, where the Islamic religious police is entitled to stop and detain women over apparel infractions that might appear as insignificant in Western secular countries.

Conclusion and policy implications Through the narratives of Middle Eastern migrant women, this study shows how gendered, religious, and cultural identities are constructed and performed in public spaces. The study seeks to move beyond ‘orientalist’ and/or ‘occidentalist’ discourses. Rather, account is taken of personal perceptions and lived experiences of public space, which clearly differ both on an individual and group basis. The research further reinforces the critical importance of values in understanding the social and personal roles public spaces play in the multicultural city. Both Islamophobia and the cultural incompatibility of public spaces in Australia to migrants’ cultural expectations affect women’s experiences in public space. The diverse narratives show that the sense of place is impacted by intersectional inequalities, compounded by the fact that Middle 17

Eastern migrant women have a life history elsewhere. And, of course, existing public space in Australia is not an idealized, neutral space. It also suffers from exclusions based on race, class, and gender (e.g., Australia’s fraught history of sharing space with its Aboriginal populations). The foregoing analysis identified five themes related to the perceptions and experiences of Middle Eastern migrant women in and of public spaces: 1) Flexible meaning of public/private spaces; (2) Building a sense of place; (3) Direct and reverse stereotyping; (4) The right to the ‘Western’ city; and (5) Safety and surveillance. These themes reveal that, to meet the needs of Middle Eastern migrant women, public spaces must fulfil certain cultural and environmental criteria. The policy implications of these themes are delineated below. While the boundary between the ‘public’ and the ‘private’ realms is fluid, privacy is of uttermost importance to women migrants from the Middle East. Concurrently, they desire interesting and active public spaces - but ones that embody ‘feminine’ qualities, such as enclosure, cleanliness, and safety. Having access to stores, restaurants, parks, and other services until late in the evening is a cultural requisite. Ethnic festivals are a crucial socio-spatial setting in which migrant women express their identity, find meaning, and build confidence. While some women make a conscious effort to nurture connections with locals and be present in public space and society, others tend to retreat to the domestic sphere (or their ethnic community) due to a variety of constraints, including language, finances, and family pressures but also fear of bullying and stereotyping on the part of others. Veiled women are more vulnerable to prejudice but they also insist on their right to hold on to their religion and heritage. At the same time, migrant women tend to stereotype locals who appear uninterested in their culture, or other migrants or non-white groups who appear to be lower on the social totem pole. Many would prefer to have access to some women-only spaces and services. While the presence of law enforcement makes some Middle Eastern migrant women feel safer, for others, fear of an all-controlling government and society (as in their origin countries) persists, which is expressed in their suspicion of police and CCTV cameras. Addressing these issues is likely to help local and migrant women from other parts of the world too – and thus inform the creation of more inclusive, responsive, and culturally-sensitive public space (see Reeves 2005). This is critical to the multicultural city.

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For example, in 2009 the Swiss government imposed a national ban on the construction of minarets in mosques. In 2010, France banned face covering and the burqa. And in 2018, the Danish government released a plan to abolish ‘ethnic ghettoes’ in order to ensure ‘integration’ while protecting ‘Danishness.’

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