Stop asking us to explain, define or defend our Aboriginality

My name is Danika Godwin. I am a 21 year old social work student in my third year of my degree, and I am a proud Butchulla woman. I attended a week-long writing retreat held by The Carumba Institute in Woppa.The Carumba institute’s writing retreat was a safe place for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students (Undergraduates and postgraduates) and academics to focus on their writings, PHD’s and opportunity to critically think about race. Before this writing retreat, I was so nervous about attending. I didn’t think I was good enough or knew enough.. The retreat had workshops, reading groups, writing group feedback sessions, opportunities to listen to other individual’s stories and knowledge. There were discussions about race and the first time that we had ever encountered race.

While I had encountered racism before, I had never critically considered race before the writing retreat. My social work degree only provided one core unit on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Health, including only one week on Indigenous colonisation, deaths in custody, health and minimal cultural safety in a white western framework. Higher education isn’t currently framed to engage students through Black knowledge. Higher education comes from a white-western way of knowing instead of incorporating Indigenous knowledge and academic writings.

As an Indigenous woman, I am aware of my own intersectionality and the way that influences my culture. I am an Aboriginal woman but due to my skin colour, I am not racially targeted and am treated to white privileges, whereas my families do not have this same privilege. As a woman, I am automatically oppressed, the world is created to benefit men and support their growth professionally. As a women in social work, I am able to use my lived experiences through my culture, identity and life to benefit the way I interpret my practice to come from a culturally safe and gendered safe space. I am able to understand the oppression that my family or I have faced to not further oppress Indigenous people and other minority groups.

I knew the writing retreat would be an opportunity to not only grow my academic knowledge but to also grow as a person and emerging social work practitioner. My self-doubt  had increased at university when I found myself surrounded by peers who seemed to know so much more than me. But the retreat helped me realiseI had the knowledge and determination to reach my full potential, and most importantly, the drive.  

Living at intersections of race, gender and social work

My first social work placement was at an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander organisation and I was surrounded by so many diverse Black social work practitioners. It helped reinforce the importance of social work and having mob at the forefront. It showed how powerful we can be when mob support each other.

Working with Black practitioners helped me come to know that I was enough, that my knowledge was enough. I was exposed to different ways of engaging in social work practice, through research, reflection and supervision. This was very different to being in spaces at university dominated by white voices.

During my courses at university, many non-Indigenous people are asked to consider Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander issues, from history to health impacts, and voice their opinions. It often feels like what Dr Amy McQuire describes as  ‘white witnesses’ through being correspondents but not active players in what they speak of. These white witnesses explain black issues as biological, reframing  problems Blackfullas have to deal with as something we brought upon ourselves. However they never consider the fact  these issues arise from the impacts of colonisation. Black witness “connects us from our past to the present.” This means we acknowledge and understand the brutal history that our ancestors faced and how the effects are still seen today.
 

Before this writing retreat, there were two significant moments that informed how I came to think about race.

The first was when I was a child, and my cousin came to stay with us for a few days. My cousin left the house to explore the neighbourhood. One of the white neighbours came to my home and spoke to my dad telling him there was a young Blackfulla walking around who looked suspicious. My dad said “no there isn’t, that’s my nephew.” This was a learning moment for me because my skin is fair, so I’m never framed as a “threat” in the same way. If you’re read as white, you’re not a threat, but if you have Black skin, you are. 

The second  moment that impacted my knowledge of race was in primary school. I remember a teacher asking if anyone in the class was Aboriginal, and I said “yes”. The teacher questioned me, as they initially didn’t believe me because of my skin. When the teacher went on to  talk about the history of Australia, they used me as an example; stating that if it was in “the past”, I would have been impacted by colonisation through the stolen generations. In this declaration, the teacher didn’t recognise that colonisation continues to impact me,,even in that moment in the classroom. The teacher singling me out resulted in students questioning how many quarters or what percentages “Aborigine (sic)” I was. It wasn’t right. It was not my responsibility to explain or defend my Aboriginality to that teacher and my classmates. It is still not my responsibility to explain this. 

My Aboriginality is my bloodline of strong Butchulla ancestors, including Uncle Gary Owens. Black knowledge runs through my veins, what Uncle Joe Geia yarned to us during the writing retreat, that our blood is knowing.

Writing retreat reflections 

Just like the social work placement, I knew the writing retreat would be another opportunity to be with community to build my knowledge. I was motivated to develop myself as a social work practitioner, but more critically, as a Butchulla women. 

As soon as you step on to Woppa country, you could feel how special it is, the surreal feeling of the culture and history this place holds. It felt magical. I don’t know if I felt this special connection to the island because of its history and culture or because of my own home in K’gari. The feeling of being connected to county made me feel like I belonged.

I was struck and felt privileged listening to Uncle Sonne and his knowledge and stories, his knowledge of his country, the history of his people and culture. Though this history is hard to hear because of the brutality, it is necessary to know so that you can pay your respect to our Elders and Ancestors.

During the writing retreat, Professor Watego introduced many key concepts of race to us students. This has been a lot to take in, as I hadn’t been exposed to many of the concepts before. This included how the early stages of colonisation racism began overt, but over time has become more subtle, making it easier for non Indigenous people to claim to be ignorant about its impact.  Prof Watego used the example of a highlighter package to show different perspectives. One side had two highlights on the back and the other front side had around five highlights on the packaging. Both aren’t wrong but it depends on your standpoint as to what you see and how you claim to know. As Black knowledge holders, we see things from a unique vantage point that others can’t. 

The community at the Carumba Institute hold a lot of knowledge grounded from culture and informs their academic knowledge. It was so inspiring to hear how other Blackfulla students draw on their lived experiences and family’s lived experiences and use it as their power instead of deterring them. 

We also were introduced to  reading materials such as, Black witness: The power of Indigenous media by Professor Amy Mcquire and Always bet on Black (Power) by Professor Chelsea Watego. These readings exposed me to Black academic scholarship that I had not encountered before. Both Prof Mcquire and Prof Watego’s writings guide you through their experiences, how they felt and the power they carry with themselves every day. 

On the last day of the writing retreat, Carumba Institute academic Kevin Yow Yeh said to me that our knowledge is Black knowing. My peers at university don’t have the cultural connection and knowledge that I have. My power and strength stems from my own Black history and family. My worth isn’t less because of anyone else’s strength. Everyone is unique and bring their own knowledge. I bring my resilience and dedication to Black knowledge.

Black knowledge is in my bloodline passed down generations. Blood isn’t just genetics or biology, but it holds history and knowledge. Do you ever go somewhere and feel connected in a deep way? For me, that is the blood of ancestors who were  there before me. I felt that when I stood on Woppa country. My Aboriginality is knowing, being and doing. It cannot be questioned because it is me. 

My knowledge is growing. I am not discovering but awakening.  My black knowing is my power. I am enough.