By Shauna Bostock-Smith
Shauna Bostock-Smith reflects on her family’s past, and the way personal stories are shaped and interpreted - and the importance of acknowledging both the bad and the good in Aboriginal history. She asks: How can ancestral knowledge empower us in the present? And what are dangers do victimhood pose to collective Aboriginal self-esteem?
IN AN OCTOBER 2011 edition of The National Indigenous Times, Dr Chris Sarra called for ‘fellow Indigenous Australians to take control of their own lives.’ Dr Sarra has accused some Aboriginal community leaders of conspiring with mainstream Australia to cast Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in the role of victims.
He lamented that too many Aboriginal people ‘interiorised’ this to the extent that some consider the victim status as part of our culture. Both Dr Sarra’s statements, that mainstream Australia has cast Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in the role of victims, and that Aboriginal people have ‘interiorised’ victimhood as part of our culture, can be validated by the following experiences my father had.
My father is a Vietnam veteran who has worked tirelessly for the recognition of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australian Defence Force Veterans. He worked closely with the Returned and Services League (RSL) to organise an annual ceremony to honour and commemorate the active service of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Defence Force members both past and present.
When interviewed by a newspaper reporter, my father was asked if he experienced any racism when he was in the army. In his usual larrikin vernacular he said, ‘There was no “black” or “white” in the army, because each soldier thought of himself as green. We were all mates. Occasionally someone would call you a black bastard or something like that; but it was nothing that a good smack in the mouth wouldn’t sort out!’
When the article was published, however, the journalist portrayed my father as the victim of racism by reporting that ‘when George was in the army, he was called a black bastard and smacked in the mouth’, rather than portray him as a strong Aboriginal man who stood up to occasional racism. This interview took place quite recently.
Another situation that again involves my father is a prime example of the ‘interiorised victimhood’ cited by Dr Chris Sarra.
My father also volunteered as a Murri Court elder (an Aboriginal elder who attended court hearings of Aboriginal offenders). On one occasion he attended the court case of an Aboriginal burglar who had broken into houses at night. A woman who was home alone awoke to find him ransacking a chest of drawers looking for valuables. In court, the man complained that he was being victimised by police because they were always checking up on him.
He added that he and his incarcerated brothers were suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder brought about by the continual round of institutionalisation they have experienced at the hands of whiteman. My father asked him, ‘What about the trauma that you have inflicted on that poor woman? How frightened is she when she locks herself in every night? Haven’t you institutionalised her?’
In The National Indigenous Times, Dr Chris Sarra stated that ‘While history has no doubt dealt Aboriginal people a questionable hand, there is no need to wallow in it such that it cripples us from acting. When one is busy being the victim or booting the victim, very rarely does one stop to ask: What am I doing to contribute to underachievement?’ Dr Sarra believes Aboriginal leaders must stop seeing Aboriginal people in the usual way and see what they have to offer. ‘We do have to be accountable for our actions. It’s time to assert our place in the nation.’
I am a novice historian researching family and Aboriginal history, and even at this relatively early stage of my academic path, I am constantly amazed at how ancestral knowledge can empower us in the present.
Before researching my family history, I had always assumed the lives of my grandparents and other Aborigines on missions were sad and miserable, governed as they were by white oppressors. Several archival discoveries, however, have completely dissolved this assumption.
Early in 2011 I travelled to the Mitchell Library in Sydney to view a collection of papers, photographs and personal items belonging to two missionaries affiliated with the United Aborigines Mission (UAM), Mrs Alma Smith and Mrs Alva Atkins. They were mother and daughter missionaries who spent many years of their lives ministering to my ancestors and other Aborigines at Box Ridge Mission, near Coraki in northern New South Wales in the early 1900s.
Searching through personal diaries, journals and address books I was surprised to find that Mrs Smith kept in contact with my grandmother well after she had married and left the mission. The collection also contained photographs my grandmother had sent to Mrs Smith of my father and his siblings at various times in their childhood. This tangible evidence of an obvious affection between these two very different women clearly contradicted my previous ideas.
Another assumption of mine was that Aboriginal people were powerless victims who had no choice but to accept the rules of the dominant culture. However, recently I discovered a letter my grandfather had sent the Aboriginal Protection Board that provided evidence to the contrary.
My grandfather became a single father with three daughters when his wife deserted them. He arranged to leave the girls at the mission with a non-related Aboriginal woman so that he could travel for work, and he sent money to her for their upkeep. In the letter dated 30 October, 1944, my grandfather informed the board he had taken his children away from Coraki to live with his brother and sister-in-law in a remote country town. He complained that his children were ‘being ill-treated and were doing women’s work such as scrub floors and so forth [sic].’
The woman was neglecting them and making false accusations to the board that she was not receiving financial support from my grandfather. My mother and her sisters would have stood out as prime candidates for removal, and my mother’s family firmly believe that my grandfather’s choice to take them from the mission meant that they avoided being part of the Stolen Generation. These defiant acts, plus his refusal to allow my Aunt to accept Aboriginal Protection Board assistance for her education, were clear indicators he was certainly not a powerless victim of the dominant culture. There is a well-known saying that ‘knowledge dispels fear.’ For me, researching family and Aboriginal history, investigating stories, unearthing facts and seeking knowledge has had the interesting effect of dispelling sadness.
Delving into the memories of my mother and sister raised questions about my own perception of the past, and an unexpected result was that I was able to put down the burden of sadness that I had carried for decades. Similarly, when the inspection of the individual lives of my ancestors yielded evidence of consensual accommodation, stubborn resistance, and choices that illustrate a degree of independence in the way that they lived their lives, the sadness that I had previously felt for them dissolved.
From my own personal life experience I now understand how important it is for Aboriginal Australians to ensure that future generations have a balanced view of our history, lest we perpetuate Aboriginal victimhood or negatively affect their collective self-esteem.
There are many good, ‘against all odds’ stories to be found about Aboriginal survival and resilience when researching Aboriginal history. Private stories from my grandparents’ time of Aboriginal peoples’ kinship and solidarity in looking after each other, to wider, more public stories of early Aboriginal activists like William Cooper and Jack Patten clearly illustrate a strength of character that we, today’s Aborigines, can take pride in. I am certain that by providing our youth with such stories we empower them.
In the closing paragraph of his book Telling The Truth About Aboriginal History (Allen and Unwin, 2005), Bain Attwood suggests that if ‘anyone is going to take pride in what is truly good about their nation’s past, they must also be prepared to accept what is truly bad in it.’ He went on to say that: ‘Acknowledging the bad does not diminish the good. On the contrary: telling the truth about Aboriginal history can actually help us to pinpoint what was good in the past, the conditions that enabled this good to be achieved, and the lesson this has for us today.’
Conversely, from an Aboriginal perspective, acknowledging the good in Aboriginal history does not diminish the bad. It just adds to the broader scope of knowledge that I believe is key to Aboriginal empowerment.
In a metaphorical, almost biblical way, knowledge provides a better view of the overall journey of Aboriginal people. Knowledge helps us to look back to see the rocky, exhausting road our ancestors have travelled, but it also places us on higher ground where we can see not just where we have come from, but also the best way forward.
I picture myself empowering my daughter by taking her by the hand and leading her to the higher ground, where she can tread sure-footed and confident, with an unobstructed view of where she is going.
This is an edited extract from the essay, ‘At That Time in History: Aboriginal Stereotypes, Victimhood and Empowerment’ in Griffith Review: Women and Power, which is published this week and available now.
Dr Chris Sarra will be delivering a Lunchbox/Soapbox on Indigenous Education on Thursday 11 July, at the Wheeler Centre.