In-Fear? Nah, inform!

Plz educate yourself on the Voice to Parliament

A few days before I began writing this article, I had a conversation with someone who pointed out that the average person doesn’t know what The Voice is and/or means, and quoted the phrase “people fear what they don’t know”.

My first thought was, fear of what? What could the average non-indigenous person fear from the creation of a Voice to Parliament? Is it the fear that Indigenous Australians will suddenly get special powers and rights (which they won’t)?, or is it the fear that the Voice isn’t practical or it’ll further divide Australia (can’t be any worse than calling Indigenous people flora and fauna). Perhaps for financially conservative people there’s the fear that the referendum and following appointments will “break the bank” (that whole 75 million, as opposed to the billions already spent on failed policies created by old, white, male politicians).

These fears, to me, will never amount to anything that First Nations people face everyday : fear of racial discrimination, lack of medical services and education, unemployment, broken families, and the constant threat of being incarcerated at ridiculously high rates, and dying in police custody.

Or even fear of subtle racism that is forever prominent; belittling, being ignored, forgotten, and being plainly disregarded.

The fear that I have going into every conversation about the Voice, thinking that someone will somehow minimise, dehumanise or devalue my own experiences and connection to my culture. In the last month alone, I have had someone argue that it’s racist to give First Nations people a voice, one say that the White Australia Policy was necessary to create the beautiful country in which we live. I’ve been told I’m taking advantage of the systems because I’m not Aboriginal enough, and that I’m not Aboriginal enough to have an opinion. And, when trying to educate one friend on their cultural insensitivities concerning a mass genocide and the stolen generation in my area, they responded with 3 soul crushing words: “I don’t care”.

Whether intentional or not, comments and actions like these highlight to me that institutionalised racism towards First Nations people remain deeply ingrained in the minds of everyday Australians. And it’s that racism embedded in Australian culture that calls attention to the need for a Voice to Parliament. So that First Nations people can speak for themselves. Without being spoken over, have their words twisted or be plainly ignored.

It shows the need for educating others and campaign for a yes vote for a Federal Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice to Parliament, as well as full implementation of the Uluṟu Statement from the heart.

It’s up to us, the people who know what is going on, people who care about the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people of this country to teach others what they don’t know.

ArtbyShaniaRichards

@blackbitch26https://linktr.ee/blackbitch26

Did you know, that Spanish doesn’t have a word for sorry. Only Perdóname, which means, forgive me. It’s not an extension of sympathy or regret, but instead, a demand of selfish intent.

When I was younger, I used to wonder the reason for this, and of course I landed on history. Because when the Spanish Conquistadores ravished the bones of my land, licking my ancestors’ ashes from their hands, they did not have the words or guts to say sorry.

They saidit’s easier to demand forgiveness than to ask for permission, and my indigenous land was too seductive for their hungry eyes -they couldn’t resist sucking every bone dryAnd when they left a stripped skeleton, buried, in an unmarked grave, all they could do, all they could demand was“Perdóname. I took everything from you. Forgive me.”

Well, did you know, that Spanish doesn’t have a word for struggle. Only LuchaWhich means, to fight. And maybe this is why I feel adrenaline fuelling my limbs like a steroid shot, eyes twitching, always searching, they say I’m an addict for it. I was born with a fight or fight instinct, seared into my tongue, and it can’t stop fighting for an apology I know won’t come-

Did you know that I don’t have the words big enough to paint my griefDid you know that I’m still trying to find that unmarked graveDid you know that my Spanish words sometimes feel like invaders in my own mouthDid you know that colonization stole my voice in more ways than oneDid you know

That when the Spanish cut out my tongue and replaced it with theirs, they took my ability to forgive with it. Buried it, besides the corpses of my ancestors, not to be awakened even in the face of demands like “Perdóname.”