Referenced reflections to my wurrumay (son): awareness of the impact of colonisation

Introduction

To my wurrumay (sons),

From a very young age, before you were even a twinkle in the sky, I remember waiting with my father at the bus stop, where I was going about my normal bus stop activities such as squishing bull ants when my father sternly told me to stop doing that. I looked up at him quite puzzled and like you would now, I asked him why . . .

His reply was something I remember so vividly “because he might be a father or a mother of child bull ants, collecting food for them, and because now you have hurt them, they won’t be able to return home and feed their children and they will die . . .”

I didn’t think much at the time of what he said, nor did I appreciate that the simple actions we all take, do indeed have profound and lasting effects on the world in which we live and rely upon. Strangely enough, society and cultures are like that too. It wasn’t my fault, nor will it be yours, or your children’s, no less than it was my grandparents’ fault.

We only think of now . . . Of what we want and need at this moment, we don’t think about tomorrow or the resources we need next month, we only think what we need to do, right in this moment to reach a goal, no matter the consequences of tomorrow . . . where at that time, squishing bull ants was my only priority, to pass time, before the bus came. Not the destruction left after . . .

But what if I told you, it was not always this way? What if told you that once long ago, but not that long ago, our young people were taught of tomorrow and the consequences of actions taken today? What if I told you a story, of before the first ships arrived, before the concept of “colonialisation” was a reality; of a time where our young people were not vulnerable but resilient? What if I told you, we are amongst the world’s oldest living culture, with histories that encompass agriculture, language, science, art, religion in a time before recorded written history? What if told you the secrets and history of this land we now know as Australia?

Sit down, learn and listen . . .

Its time you learnt . . . Times were not always the way they now are; there was time when we were the only people on this land; a time when we cared for the land and it cared for us; and, a time before the settlers arrived and claimed to have discovered this land and forced us to live with regard for their rules and by their practices.

A recent editorial posed the question, “How do we understand our locations in the colonial present as we contemplate and work toward the ongoing imperative of decolonization?” (Vimalassery et al., 2016, p. 1). The difficulties in addressing this question, as outlined by the authors, lie in the ongoing failure to acknowledge the history and contemporary realities of colonialism that we continue to experience today as Indigenous People. My aim in this article is to challenge you to hear my story of the impact of colonisation and to listen as I tell you and my sons about my journey of coming to awareness of colonisation and its related traumas. The story is for you, the academic reader and my sons. You will know I am addressing you when the words are in usual text and my sons when in italics. You are welcome to read the letter to my sons as well; in fact, I want you to read that letter to help you better understand the importance of this conversation; this story of a culture and the impact of settlement on that culture.

Colonisation occurred under a set of processes with the Imperial aim to expand Europe through “discovery”, conquest, exploitation, distribution and appropriation of land (Martin, 2008; Smith, 2000). This directly impacted First Peoples, plants, animals, forests and was the beginning of exploitation of the land’s resources for profit (Gibbs, 2009). As so well described by Dotson (2018), colonisation, which occurred in many countries across the globe as well as Australia, occurs

. . . when people show up at an already populated space and come to stay. It involves complicated and, at times, twisting doctrines of discovery that operate in epic feats of forgetting and merciless logics of elimination that authorize many registers of genocide that can include anything from unimaginable scales of physical violence to the violence of forced assimilation. (p. 193)

The experience for Indigenous People in Australia was no different. Ultimately, terra nullius and the ideological views it represented resulted in Indigenous People in Australia being viewed as inferior, having primitive ideals, and being “othered” (Smith, 2000). As a result, Indigenous People in Australia were perceived as needing saving by a superior race which had Eurocentric, monocultural ideologies, built on imperialism, expansion and feeling entitled to world’s resources (Arabena, 2009; Martin, 2008; Sherwood, 2013). Colonisation enabled the growth of the imperial monoculture, built on the subjugation of Indigenous populations and their resources (Smith, 2000). Indigenous People were considered less than human, enabling the colonisers to justify their actions and empowering them to implement terra nullius and decades on continuing colonial displacement (Coulthard & Alfred, 2014). The experiences of colonisation that have impacted and continue to impact Indigenous People include displacement, removal of children, ecological destruction and eradication of social, cultural and spiritual practices (Paradies, 2016). The effects of colonisation are ongoing and are widely recognised as a determinant of health within Indigenous communities (Paradies, 2016).

Since the time of colonisation, our people have been scrutinised, judged, studied and labelled; considered “a problem to be solved” (Dobson, 1994, p. 3). Our identities have become and continue to be linked to a discourse of inadequacy, of illness, of never being good enough, and/or never white enough.

This is part of our story my sons, sad as it is. Our history is one where others came to our country in the name of discovery and remained. In the staying, they dominated and subjugated our people; they claimed the land as their own and then put policies and practices in place in an attempt to eliminate or assimilate our people. As a result, many of our people were migrated to whiteness, which often required identification with the colonisers, and the impact on our people has been profound where we have experienced the ill effects resulting from colonialism.

Disrupted view?

As a result of this profound impact on our identities and ultimately our health and well-being, Indigenous Peoples in Australia have been faced with a number of challenges since colonisation (Paradies, 2016), often perpetuated by the colonial government implementing policies that further subjugated and marginalised Indigenous People. The common theme of these actions resulted in “problematising the Indigenous” and implementing racist policies, for example, the infamous Northern Territory Intervention (Altman, 2018; Dobson, 1994; Fogarty et al., 2018). The Northern Territory Intervention portrayed all Indigenous People in Australia as parental failures, leaving children in vulnerable positions, exposed to all forms of abuse and neglect. In an attempt to justify their actions, the government implemented a regime of trauma and forced “forensic” health checks resulting in further harm to Indigenous communities in Australia (Fogarty et al., 2018).

This infamous intervention neglected to recognise the importance of implementing policies to protect vulnerable people, something the Australian government failed to learn after the precursor to the Northern Territory Intervention that was also enacted upon children; now known as The Stolen Generations. All Australian States and Territories, throughout the 20th century, and through legislation, removed Aboriginal children from their families, with the goal of impacting the structure of Aboriginal families and reshaping the culture of those removed (Gilbert, 2019). Aboriginal Children were forced to assimilate into the utopian European world. In other words, affected Indigenous People were forced to enact a transformation of the cruellest kind of trauma; to form a disrupted view of one’s self and culture (Gilbert, 2019). In fact, as declared by Gilbert (2019), they were forced to assimilate, and to think of themselves as white rather than Aboriginal resulting in an incompatibility between their heritage and Aboriginality.

Regime of truth . . .

So my wurrumay, unlike me who came to understand the impact of colonisation later in my life, I want you to be clear about the impact of colonisation in your adolescence, so you understand the true history of Australia and recognise the related pain and trauma that our people have experienced early in your life. Furthermore, I want you to realise that this “disrupted view,” despite what they tell you, does not define who you are as young Gamilaroi men. Always remember, you are enough, you are not inadequate, you are not the problem, and you hold the solutions to the problems others have wrought upon our People.

Our history must represent truth telling about the destruction caused by colonisation and the ongoing destruction of Indigenous People. The destruction of our cultures, lores, systems, languages, lands, waters and the ongoing connection we hold to these places in a spiritual and physical context (Sherwood, 2013). Smith (2000) presented a profound view on what history means for Indigenous People, about how recorded history is not the only truth and how history is also about power and how the writers of history, wrote their own version. This false history is compounded as they have continued to retell mistruths, fabricating colonisation under settlement perpetuating the dominance of false narratives written Australian history as we now know it (Smith, 2000). Likewise, non-Indigenous People are also colonised in that they have been excluded from the truth.

What we need to do now my wurrumay, is to work out how we rewrite our histories, how we take back our identities and how we ensure our identities are not shaped by terra nullis. You my wurrumay have an important role in this to help ensure a future for our people.

Reflecting on this narrative of false history, particularly of the Australian Indigenous People, Bruce Pascoe offers inspiration, arguing against the blatant understatement of pre-colonial land management and food production by Indigenous People. He challenges the “hunter-gatherer” label by presenting settler’s written diaries from across the Australian continent that described how Indigenous People in Australia were sowing, harvesting, irrigating and storing food prior to colonisation (Pascoe, 2014). Not only does he challenge such misconceptions built to hide the true level of civilisation of Indigenous People in Australia, he has furthermore documented the mistruths we were taught in Australian history classes where Indigenous People were misrepresented as “nomads”, “hunter-gatherers” and a “primitive dying race” prior to colonisation (Pascoe, 2014; Sherwood, 2013). In history classes during my adolescence, however, there was no discussion of colonisation, destruction, dispossession and genocide. Rather, we were told that Indigenous People needed “saviours”, and how our ancestors welcomed the settlers with open arms and were set free from our “hunter-gatherer” ways towards a more sophisticated way of life (Paradies, 2016; Sherwood, 2013).

I am telling you this story today so you will not be fooled by those stories, those “history” lessons that I now know are colonial lies. I want you to know, at your young age what I did not; I want you to be aware of the implications for our people.

Reflections on colonisation

Reflecting on this moment in time and the lessons learnt with my father, I am aware I came to an understanding of the impact of colonisation quite slowly; it was not during my adolescence or even during my early university years. It was not until I completed a bachelor programme at a university and had been working as a registered nurse for some time where I witnessed the inequality and racism within the systems, that my awareness occurred (Bodkin-Andrews & Carlson, 2016). Working as an Indigenous trainee nurse for example, I was unaware of the benefit my presence bestowed within that institution. Potentially, my employment enabled my employer to tick a box to say they met a diversity indicator because of my Aboriginality. This focus on my ethnicity disregarded my professional knowledge, the fact that I was clinically competent and educated for the position. After working in this system, I needed a break away from the everyday violence that occurred as part of my established role in the colonial system. Articulating this tension has been something that required a comprehensive view on the ongoing colonial presence placed on Indigenous People in these systems and how one sits with this tension in everyday life (Mukandi & Bond, 2019). It was necessary to come to a position where one can appreciate the multiple viewpoints and use those to form a strategy to overcome chaotic turmoil and maintain a space to find truth (Wulff, 2017). Acknowledging this tension, has guided my own awareness of colonisation and its related traumas and helped me to recognise how I am continually confronted with ongoing colonial pressure.

Gamilaroi yinarr

I am a proud Gamilaroi yinarr from Tamworth, where my roots extend far and wide from Quirindi to Northern NSW. I am recognised and accepted as a Gamilaroi yinarr, a Murri, a baawaa (sister), a sista (“exaggeration on the s”), and a bub (a form of endearment from an Elder). I must add, I also occasionally get told I am womba which is Indigenous language for crazy . . . But hey . . . aren’t we all?

Despite my acceptance in the community, I have never been given a skin name, family totem or personal totem. I have always been told “You are Aboriginal. You identify, our family has and will always identify . . . .” When I reflect on my identity as a Gamilaroi child and adolescent, I realise that I did not question my parents. I went along to Indigenous student functions and won many “Deadly awards” throughout my schooling where my identity was not only un-questioned, but un-explored. In fact, I only ever reflected on my identity from a deficit standpoint, where I felt I was not good enough or that I was inadequate within my social groups because of my ancestry and to fit in. I did not have the opportunity to learn Language or traditional dances; the only time I remember attending such specific groups was when we were asked to share our concerns as Indigenous People at our local school. I remember vividly walking down the steps of the theatre hall then writing hesitantly on the whiteboard, “bullying”. After writing that word, I remember the group of boys and girls laughing at me. I quickly rushed back to my seat, wiping my tears away, hoping this would not further impact my already terrible situation.

Nothing came of this, not that I remember, but my sons, during school, I believe my actions were about survival and trying to remain unnoticed in order to belong. I hope you can understand my experience, but I hope yours will be different because of what I have shared with you.

This experience has shaped me as a yinarr and where I “fit” within my world. This shadow still follows me, where still among some social situations, I only see my identity through the lens of my colonisers, in terms of my inadequacies and as a “problem to be fixed” (Dobson, 1994). Fortunately, I have grown strong in my identity as a Gamilaroi yinarr; I now know my country and hear its’ call. I have felt the powers of my ancestors drawing me to their sacred lands and the connection to the mighty bagaay (river). When I reconnect to my country, I feel rejuvenated, inspired, filled-up and ready to take on the world. I’m guided by my dearest Uncle and friend.

Don’t worry my wurrumay we will go there soon and you too will experience this connection.

So, I am sure you are wondering what impact colonisation has had on me as your guni and our relationship as guni and wurrumay? What impact it had on my father, his father and your great-great grandmother?

Gamilaroi guni

Colonisation has shaped the relationships we have with our society (Green, 2009). Our identities are contaminated, built within a resistive state, formed by assimilation and the removal of traditional ways of being, doing and knowing (Atkinson, 2002; Green, 2009; Smith, 2000). I did not understand colonisation, many people do not, and this is not their fault; colonisation was hidden under the guise of care and settlement, as explained by others (Sherwood, 2013).

Like many, it has had a profound effect on my identity, on your grandfathers and great-grandfathers identity. Now my wurrumay, my role is to ensure you know your identity, your totem, your land and your culture. To be empowered and strengthened by your ancestors, to break the cycle of trauma. I am hopeful we will do this together. But I must tell you only recently was I aware of the effects of transgenerational trauma, where purposeful destruction and denigration of Indigenous ceremonies occurred, breaking the cycle of healing, and our deepest connection to our lands and waters. Our people are suffering from this destruction, where from generation to generation, we are sowing this seed of trauma into our next generation. It is my time to heal, it is my time to break this cycle, and help you to learn so that you sow seeds of hope, culture and intergenerational strength.

I am telling you this because, prior to my understanding of colonisation and my un-questioned identity, I was not aware of this seed growing in me, or its roots in your forefathers. I was not aware of this trauma, loss and destruction, but it became clear to me, hitting me like the icy breeze on a windy winter morning, when I was having a yarn with “Old Pop,” your great-grandfather, probing him ever so gently to identify the beginning of our identity, “Our Indigenous ancestry.” I did this to find my granny, to trace her Country, her totems (skin and personable) and her history, so I would have it to hand on to you my sons. I asked him directly “who was granny and what was her tribal or family name”? Pop looked down at his hands and disengaged from the conversation, his face filled with sorrow and contempt., I am unsure if he knows her name or if the trauma of his identity was passed down from his mother . . . He left behind the conversation, and also the many unanswered questions I still hold today.

Some have argued that we function within society by walking the fine line between two worlds, between positive affirmation and internalised xenophobia, between ongoing cultural revitilisation and oppressive fundamentalism (Green, 2009; Styres et al., 2010) the colonised and the traditional.

I do not believe this, we do not walk between these two worlds, we do not walk in a world that suits us at the time we are in and change when needed. We do not have two identities. We are Gamilaroi, situated in a colonised world, built around systems and institutions that privilege the dominant culture. As Gamilaroi people, our role is to challenge the pre-conception that we are to be colonised in thought and in action and to do this, we must be, do and act through our Gamilaroi worldview.

Importantly, my sons, we view our world through the relationship we have with our lands; the land is more than a physical space, it is a moral sphere, and like my father told me, killing those bull ants not only affected me and my world, but it also affected the bull ants and the intricate systems placed around the bull ants that rely upon him or her.

In our culture, we are told that our ancestors formed the lands, rivers and mountains, where we became humans to care for the lands and the animals and peoples on the lands (Atkinson, 2002). We are also told that the fabric of our society was built around the care of our people and our country; if our country is sick, we are sick, if our country is well, we are well (Atkinson, 2002). As Gamilaroi people, we must understand this relationship we have, that our culture and identity is built around relationships, “that we value where we have come from, who we are, and where we are going” (Atkinson, 2002, p. 30).

To ensure the passing of this knowledge, our ancestors used the most prominent, ancient and potent practice; storytelling. Since the beginning, storytelling was known for being the most instinctive and natural human form of communication (Behrendt, 2019). Storytelling for Indigenous Peoples plays a continuing role in the knowledge of our identities, our self-determination, our sovereignty, and importantly, our connection to country which forms the fabric of our relationships (Atkinson, 2002; Behrendt, 2019).

We must continue this practice, preserving it in ways in which we must; reflecting and sharing our lives through storytelling. To do my part in this journey, towards a better future for you my wurrumay, writing and researching is my way of doing this, with the hope I can encourage you to find your own way through the sharing of stories about our people.

Conclusion

To overcome the impact of colonialism, we must first look back before we look forward. We must acknowledge where we have come from, where we are now and where we are going. Colonisation has shaped the role we play within our contexts as Indigenous People in this country and impacted our health and well-being. We are, however, no longer naive to its lasting effects but have a crucial role in our societies to re-write what is known and contribute to future knowledge. This cannot be undertaken as if colonisation is over or never happened, or even from the perspective where we exist within two states of mind (colonisation vs. culture). Rather, we must endeavour to investigate and inspire, to create knowledge, built around ongoing decolonisation, from the ontological view that we are all grounded and associated as Entities. We must accept that we have an accountability to the relationships we engage in and the connection we have to all things as equals. We must continue this journey; we must not view ourselves through a disrupted lens or rose-coloured glasses created on the basis of “settlement”. We have a role to play in ensuring we build our identities, not on the basis of terra nullius, but on the basis of our own history prior to occupation and colonisation.

An identity . . . our identities, as being the world’s oldest living culture and you my wurrumay are part of that culture! We must never give in to the story that would have us believe that the history of this land began when the settlers arrived. So, stand strong, be proud and grow strong like the forefathers before you . . . and refuse to believe the falsehoods as you fight for a decolonial future.