The Real Land of The Free, Do You Hear Me

CB Disclaimer: This post may offend some people and is sure to diverge from its original point and go down the ranting path. It will be long, most of you will drop off like starving refugees along the way and are unlikely to reach the end.*

…I actually intended this post to tell Comrade not to compare Indigenous crime rates with that of South Africa or an American ghetto but already I’m going to deviate from the point and write something else.

We came here in chains, as animals, bitter, angry, frightened, the hated scum of another place. Slaves under another name. That’s what we were and that’s how we treated you.

We brought our diseases and consequently killed over half your families.

We tried to survive in a place considered akin to hell. The flies, the dust, the suffocating heat, no rain, no water, no food and with the brutality of the place where we were born we used you and killed you.

That’s what our society had taught us, take and destroy. Remember to pillage before you burn.

Collectively I guess we moved on, or some of us did. I know there are still places that are racist, homophobic and sexist, like Townsville. But it seems, to me, looking back, that we, the White migrants, learnt some compassion, developed a sense of humanity, realised that it is wrong to treat others as less than yourself based on something as insignificant as your skin tone.

I don’t know where I’m going with this, it’s weird to talk about. It is taboo.

I want to say I’m sorry for the actions of my ancestors. I’m sorry we took your land without asking. I’m sorry we treated you so badly. I’m sorry that so many migrants, White or not find it so hard to look you in the eye when we pass you in the street. I’m sorry so many of us are afraid to talk to you. I’m sorry that we continue to follow misconceptions without asking for the truth.

When I was younger I wondered if I could leave, go back to Europe, one less person living on land that is not theirs. But that is silly. It would make me immensely unhappy and solves nothing. This is my home, Australia is where I was born, it’s where I’ve grown up and it is the place I love more than anywhere else. This is the country of my citizenship, I have no where else. This is me. I am Australian and when you leave, your country means all the more to you. When you’re gone and you meet someone else from your home, no matter how fleeting the relationship is, that person will have an innate and almost complete understanding of you. It’s a shared history, a shared humour, we know the same sounds, same tastes, same smells, we know the intricacies of our culture.

Our history is shameful and I have felt ashamed in the presence of Indigenous Australians. I am Irish Australian and my white skin speaks for me, it tells you where my ancestors are from, it screams hundreds and hundreds of years of unacceptable cruelty. Black people say we put them down, made them feel less than animals, slaughtered them and it’s true. But through all that you were never in the wrong. Wait till you open a history book and realise that every single thing in there is White people senselessly and horrifically killing anyone who wasn’t White enough. All that pain and suffering caused by people you’re so obviously related to. No wonder White people don’t want to look at their history, it’s pure hatred and violence. I don’t want to look at an Indigenous Australian and know that someone from my past killed or raped or beat someone from their family. And so for years I hung my head in shame when ever I walked past any Indigenous person. I couldn’t look at them, the guilt was too much, I didn’t want to acknowledge it.

I shouldn’t feel ashamed though. Just because my skin is White doesn’t make me a bad person and though my ancestors did terrible things to humanity doesn’t mean I have to follow them and I shouldn't make other people, however unintentionally, feel ashamed of who they are. So for once as I passed an Aboriginal lady in the city I smiled at her, instead of looking away like everyone else was doing. She looked so shocked and I felt as shocked as she looked, my heart was beating wildly, I was worried she would dislike the fact that I had so obviously taken notice of her, since it isn’t normal here, I didn’t know what the reaction would be but I worried needlessly. For a few moments she just looked shocked and then she smiled back, it was a huge smile, hell, it wasn’t even a smile it was a massive grin! And I loved every second of it!

Screw feeling guilty and ashamed. I accept that the country Australia has a terrible history but it is history, don’t make it the present. Move forward. Don’t follow the stereotype. It doesn’t matter if you’re Indigenous Australian, German Australian, Sri Lankan Australian, Malaysian Australian, Ugandan Australian or Irish Australian, we’re all Australian, we all matter and we should treat each other with respect. Mostly we all went through a lot of crap to be here too, the Indigenous put up with terrible treatment and most of the migrants came as prisoners or fleeing starvation, war or corruption. If it isn’t enough for Australians to treat each other the same simply for being Australian then the fact that we ALL have grandparents who suffered for us to be here should be enough.

*Country Boyi disclaimer, though the post didn’t reach the length nor did it step on as many toes as I intended, I’m leaving the disclaimer anyway. In fact this post totally deviated from my original plan. But I realised you can read facts and figures in the history books, Blogs are for the feeling behind the statistic.

Up there, that girl is Samantha Harris. She is fucking gorgeous. Sorry Comrade, I can no longer marry you, I’m afraid Brothers GUG and WildeY will have to go without their cows and cars because I’m marrying an Aboriginal so I can have a kid who looks like her. Plus there is no better way to find peace, merge so there is no one left to blame ;-)