Generation, class and community leadership

I first visited Cronulla beach with some friends some years after 1 had settled in the Bankstown area of Sydney in 1971. Cronulla, we were told, was famous for its long sandy beach and surfing. The place was beautiful and spacious: I'll never forget the refreshing sensations as I took a dip into the waves that day. However, the place had a peculiar feeling that made me unable to relate to it. Indeed, I felt 'out of place': the bronzed bodies of the surfers With their long blond hair and their colourful surfing boards; the flag poles dug into the sand demarcating the area overseen by volunteer 'lifesavers'; the boat turned upside down at the bottom of the look-out tower and surrounded by 'lifesavers' with their distinguished caps and tanned and well-shaped bodies; and most significantly, the pub located nearby and separated from the beach by a road and a car park. Soon after our arrival, I realized that the beach was not somewhere I would feel 'at home' and I also came to the conclusion that I could not easily become part of the pub's life. Both places were spatially and symbolically dominated by cultural practices that were alien. On the beach, I could certainly lie on my towel and take a swim from time to time and, in the pub, I could enjoy a cold beer, but both acts were somehow 'outside' the rest of the scene, isolated and excluded.