Two different ways of knowing

One of the books I bought in Australia and finished (maybe three weeks ago) is Growing Up Aboriginal in Australia, edited by Anita Heiss. Fifty people, teenage to elderly, wrote essays of two to eight pages describing their lives while young. A few are what one might expect from a modern youth – I went to this school and got my dream job or joined a professional sports team.

Most, however, speak of of discrimination. The worst were the older ones who were part of the Stolen Generations. For a while Australia had a policy of trying to Westernize Aboriginal youth. They were taken from their homes and put in boarding schools. They were forbidden to speak their tribal language. Some lighter skinned children, those thought might be able to pass as white, were forbidden from seeing darker skinned siblings. This was a policy similar to those in the United States and in Canada.

Many of the writers had one white parent and one Aboriginal. They talk of one family in the city and one in the bush. There was a frequent list of questions and comments: How much Aboriginal are you? When did you realize you were Aboriginal? You don’t look like an Aborigine. You’ve really done well for an Aboriginal. Do you get the benefits? And some are told they’re too dark to be white and too light to be Aboriginal. One was wisely told by an elder you are not part Aboriginal. You are Aboriginal. You are also Irish.

Don Bemrose is an opera singer. He wrote a letter to his country. Excerpts:

I’m sorry I identify as Gungarri and Aboriginal. I know you would prefer I added ‘part’, ‘quarter’ or some other quantifier to to signify that I’m less than full; to reinforce my lesser status, and as a reminder that my people are to be bred out.

I’m sorry I am neither white, nor black enough for you to easily label or identify me as ‘other.’ I understand how hard it can be for you to be openly funny or casually racist when people like me are around.

I’m sorry I’m not a ‘real Aboriginal’ living in a remote part of Australia, surviving off the land.

Please forgive me for identifying as gay, because I know you hate double and triple minorities, which are such a threat to your monocultural, patriarchal, 1950s utopia.

Please forgive me for not being lazy: I know how you prefer your natives to want nothing but a free handout, but somehow I have become a ‘want-for-nothing’ Aboriginal who lives the best life I can.

Todd Phillips talks of two different ways of knowing. From his Aboriginal family he hears stories of ancestors as he sits to fish with his uncles. Phillips and others talk of fishing at the same spot along the river as their ancestors have done for thousands of years. Quite a connection to the land! He also went to public schools and university. In his mob (Australian word for tribe) the elders were intentional in passing along the ways and knowledge of their people to the youth. These elders told them to think outside the box – beyond professional sports – to consider being doctors, lawyers, teachers, and other professionals. We need our own to be in these professions. Phillips added that his public school teachers had only talked of a life of manual labor. They had never talked of professions and of being role models for the community. Phillips got a PhD in education.