By Aunty Dr Doseena Fergie OAM
LET me share my story.
In the 1960s, the environment in which I was living was politically charged. Communism was on the rise, hence the Vietnam War; African American non-violent activist Martin Luther King Jnr was assassinated. In Australia, the 1967 Referendum to allow Aboriginals to be counted in the Census and for the Federal Government to make laws for our Mob was successful. But still white men dominated the places of power in both decision-making and finances.
The majority of Australian women did not enjoy equal opportunities in education or employment. The gap in career opportunities between them and their male counterparts was huge. But the gap between white and black women was even greater.
LET me share my story.
In the 1960s, the environment in which I was living was politically charged. Communism was on the rise, hence the Vietnam War; African American non-violent activist Martin Luther King Jnr was assassinated. In Australia, the 1967 Referendum to allow Aboriginals to be counted in the Census and for the Federal Government to make laws for our Mob was successful. But still white men dominated the places of power in both decision-making and finances.
The majority of Australian women did not enjoy equal opportunities in education or employment. The gap in career opportunities between them and their male counterparts was huge. But the gap between white and black women was even greater.
As a teenager I was oblivious to the tumultuous undercurrents that existed in our society of the day. My parents and grandparents had a done a good job of protecting us. I was living comfortably in my own little bubble – created by my Mob, protected from the cruelty that lay in society.
So for me, this particular day was not an unusual day – I had just commenced high school at the time. We had moved from the Torres Straits and were living on the mainland of Australia, where we were the only black family in the neighbourhood. We were in a low socio-economic housing commissioned community where family violence and unemployment was the norm. After school the kids in the neighbourhood met and rode their bikes in the street. We conversed with each other sitting on the fence because in our family there was an unspoken rule that other kids were not allowed to come and play in our yard, let alone stay for sleepovers in our home. Still, we had many of our relatives transit at our place. They brought news and food from the Torres Straits.
Life for me seemed stable as I journeyed between black and white worlds.
But on this day, as he rode past me, he uttered words that I had not heard before, words directed at me, in a most demeaning way. It was not the words themselves but the way he said them that caused shivers up my spine, along with feelings of worthlessness.
Friends - Discriminatory attitudes and language have no sting to the perpetrator. He was just a kid like myself, we lived in the same neighbourhood. To him this was part of everyday conversation – the norm in his home life.
I had done nothing to provoke him. Yet I knew the words were wrong - but I couldn’t
name it. I walked slowly home, dragging my feet, baffled and confused.
My mother was at the stove, stirring the evening meal with a wooden spoon. She turned and saw my downcast look and slumped posture and asked me “Are you okay. bub?”
May I just highlight this – she saw and she chose to immediately ask the question.
In a softly spoken voice, still confused, I sheepishly stammered out to her what had happened to me outside.
The next minute all hell broke loose.
My mother, this mild-mannered, black woman who wanted to stay under the radar in our neighbourhood suddenly became the incredible hulk. In the blink of an eye, she swung around and looked at me, her face grimaced with anger as she stormed out of the kitchen with wooden spoon in hand and yelling as she went, “Come with me!”
Who me? What – me? Surely not me? ...Yes it was to me!
It was not a question but a command.
Mum marched down the street …. (I trailed behind) …. Then she stood in the middle of the road, outside that boy’s house, still wielding the wooden spoon, and yelled for him to come out and apologise to me.
All the neighbours of course were half hanging out their windows, wondering what all the commotion was. Kids on bikes had stopped and were now gawking. There came a hush over the area as we all waited to see the reaction from that boy’s house – and I? – I wanted to crawl in a shell – I felt so embarrassed! Because all of a sudden the spotlight was on us. My family had tried to stay quiet, blend in and not cause waves because we were the minority, we had no other black advocates to ‘fly the flag’ for us.
That day I witnessed the importance of calling out racism immediately. Even with gusto. My mum was the advocate, she stood in the gap … for me. A renewed respect for our family came over our neighbourhood from that day on.
I learnt a valuable lesson. Mum modelled for me strength to stand your ground, to speak up for those who don’t as yet have a strong voice, for those who are being intimidated and violated. We must dare to be different and stand for truth and justice, because racist and discriminatory attitudes, behaviours and remarks are shattering. They are soul destroying.
We need to make a choice, often in a split second… to challenge.
My mum remains beautiful, she is almost 89 years old, but unfortunately has developed Alzheimers and is now bed ridden, no longer able to march down and stand in the middle of the street. Times have changed – we now advocate for her in the health and social system.
May I conclude by honouring and paying my respect to all our Ancestors who have gone before us – who have suffered under the Australian policies that were inflicted on our Mob.
This is but one story but part of many that demonstrate that black women resisted and stood tall. We, today, must model – to those coming after us – the positive ways that encourage respect, caring and sharing within our Bass Coast workplace and community.
Indeed, we must Choose to Challenge.
Aunty Dr Doseena Fergie is Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Strategic Advisor to Bass Coast Shire Council and Bass Coast Health. This is an edited version of her address to the Bass Coast International Women’s Day breakfast at the Silverwater Resort, San Remo, on Tuesday.
So for me, this particular day was not an unusual day – I had just commenced high school at the time. We had moved from the Torres Straits and were living on the mainland of Australia, where we were the only black family in the neighbourhood. We were in a low socio-economic housing commissioned community where family violence and unemployment was the norm. After school the kids in the neighbourhood met and rode their bikes in the street. We conversed with each other sitting on the fence because in our family there was an unspoken rule that other kids were not allowed to come and play in our yard, let alone stay for sleepovers in our home. Still, we had many of our relatives transit at our place. They brought news and food from the Torres Straits.
Life for me seemed stable as I journeyed between black and white worlds.
But on this day, as he rode past me, he uttered words that I had not heard before, words directed at me, in a most demeaning way. It was not the words themselves but the way he said them that caused shivers up my spine, along with feelings of worthlessness.
Friends - Discriminatory attitudes and language have no sting to the perpetrator. He was just a kid like myself, we lived in the same neighbourhood. To him this was part of everyday conversation – the norm in his home life.
I had done nothing to provoke him. Yet I knew the words were wrong - but I couldn’t
name it. I walked slowly home, dragging my feet, baffled and confused.
My mother was at the stove, stirring the evening meal with a wooden spoon. She turned and saw my downcast look and slumped posture and asked me “Are you okay. bub?”
May I just highlight this – she saw and she chose to immediately ask the question.
In a softly spoken voice, still confused, I sheepishly stammered out to her what had happened to me outside.
The next minute all hell broke loose.
My mother, this mild-mannered, black woman who wanted to stay under the radar in our neighbourhood suddenly became the incredible hulk. In the blink of an eye, she swung around and looked at me, her face grimaced with anger as she stormed out of the kitchen with wooden spoon in hand and yelling as she went, “Come with me!”
Who me? What – me? Surely not me? ...Yes it was to me!
It was not a question but a command.
Mum marched down the street …. (I trailed behind) …. Then she stood in the middle of the road, outside that boy’s house, still wielding the wooden spoon, and yelled for him to come out and apologise to me.
All the neighbours of course were half hanging out their windows, wondering what all the commotion was. Kids on bikes had stopped and were now gawking. There came a hush over the area as we all waited to see the reaction from that boy’s house – and I? – I wanted to crawl in a shell – I felt so embarrassed! Because all of a sudden the spotlight was on us. My family had tried to stay quiet, blend in and not cause waves because we were the minority, we had no other black advocates to ‘fly the flag’ for us.
That day I witnessed the importance of calling out racism immediately. Even with gusto. My mum was the advocate, she stood in the gap … for me. A renewed respect for our family came over our neighbourhood from that day on.
I learnt a valuable lesson. Mum modelled for me strength to stand your ground, to speak up for those who don’t as yet have a strong voice, for those who are being intimidated and violated. We must dare to be different and stand for truth and justice, because racist and discriminatory attitudes, behaviours and remarks are shattering. They are soul destroying.
We need to make a choice, often in a split second… to challenge.
My mum remains beautiful, she is almost 89 years old, but unfortunately has developed Alzheimers and is now bed ridden, no longer able to march down and stand in the middle of the street. Times have changed – we now advocate for her in the health and social system.
May I conclude by honouring and paying my respect to all our Ancestors who have gone before us – who have suffered under the Australian policies that were inflicted on our Mob.
This is but one story but part of many that demonstrate that black women resisted and stood tall. We, today, must model – to those coming after us – the positive ways that encourage respect, caring and sharing within our Bass Coast workplace and community.
Indeed, we must Choose to Challenge.
Aunty Dr Doseena Fergie is Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Strategic Advisor to Bass Coast Shire Council and Bass Coast Health. This is an edited version of her address to the Bass Coast International Women’s Day breakfast at the Silverwater Resort, San Remo, on Tuesday.