Tiddas by Anita Heiss

role models in each of their families, and some of the only women in their clans who had gone to university and built careers that gave back to the mobs. Their own role models were their mothers, their grandmothers and their aunties. When white women talked about feminism and the male networks they were left out of, the three tiddas laughed, knowing that the Wiradjuri sistahood they shared could be broken by no man, Black or white. These tiddas had listened to and learned from their elders, and knew that even in their modern, city-based lives they were still expected –even with the degrees and careers – to keep breeding; it was simply the done thing. This was something that Nadine and Veronica might never understand, only ever accountable to themselves, and coincidentally, both already mothers.
    â€˜Why, Ellen?’ Xanthe was gobsmacked, unable to understand her tidda’s unusual confession, or why any woman would make herself permanently unable to have children before she’d even had one, at least one.
    â€˜The truth is, after having been co-parent to five younger brothers and sisters when I was just twelve, it felt like I’d already raised a family just by helping out Mum. I hardly had a childhood after that arsehole who some still refer to as “my father” left.’
    Ellen wasn’t one to get emotional but she felt a lump in her throat at the thought of her mother and the hard life they shared when she was growing up, thanks to the good-for-nothing sperm donor who had left them all for a better life, but no-one knew where.
    â€˜Any maternal instinct I may have had was completely crushed by having to cook, clean and care for the kids because my poor mother was working seven days a week either cleaning at the school or at the hospital and sometimes both in the one day, just to keep a roof over our head and food in our bellies.’ Ellen shook her head with disappointment in the man who had fathered her.
    The other women felt guilty for not realising the pressure Ellen had been under as a teenager. Izzy thought of Ellen mainly by the river in a purple cozzie and long plaits, alwayscheerful. Xanthe remembered Ellen as the best sprinter at the sports carnival. Veronica recalled how Ellen was a dynamo at elastics on the playground. And later in life Nadine had always compared Ellen and herself to the girls from Puberty Blues , only in the country and not at the beach. It was clear to the tiddas now that Ellen had managed to hide the challenges she faced at home, making the most of being with her friends when she could.
    â€˜Let’s face it, in high school we were so busy talking about boys and INXS and George Michael. And you two,’ Ellen nodded to Veronica and Xanthe, ‘had crushes on Whitney Houston and Rick Astley. No-one was talking about what was going on at home. You just never noticed the shit I had to put up with.’ She smiled calmly. ‘So, in all honesty I can say that I support you, Izzy, in whatever you decide because it’s your life to lead, just as yours is yours, Xanthe.’
    â€˜Well, isn’t this just the perfect circle then. One will never have a baby, one’s pregnant and doesn’t want it, and one can’t get pregnant,’ Nadine summarised.
    â€˜Thanks for the analysis,’ Ellen said sarcastically. ‘Talk about not offering anything of use. Why don’t you have another drink?’
    Nadine just smiled back, having already found comfort in the cosy drunken place where she could just bliss out.
    â€˜I should be getting home,’ Xanthe said, looking at her watch before pulling cash from her purse and putting a couple of notes in the middle of the table.
    â€˜I’ve got it,’ Nadine said. ‘In lieu of buying anyone chocolates for Easter.’
    No-one had the emotional energy to even try to argue with her.
    Xanthe walked around the table and pecked everyone on the cheek in a false display that she