The Toll of Racism and Truth Telling

Let’s talk about racism. With the disappointing events of Stan Grant this story is all too familiar for culturally and racially marginalised people. It reminds me of the weight of championing change especially when you are a person of colour and culture.

I was passing a colleague's desk and noticed an educational piece from their child’s school on First Nations history. We both commented how encouraging that schools are actively integrating this into mainstream curriculum. We lamented on our school years as this was not available and shared our hope that the new generation will be more inclusive, kinder and respectful.

Then the news of Stan Grant hit, yet sadly it didn’t surprise me. Reality bites in that this is a continuing battle to be culturally safe. I was asked of my thoughts and my lived experiences flooded back. Those experiences still continue for that is my journey of living in two worlds as a biracial woman. This fight for equality comes with a cost. It’s exhausting, psychologically and culturally unsafe, and harmful regardless of resilience and experience of fighting for equity and justice.

The day a person who has given their all to fight for human rights and walks away due to bullying and racism is a sad indictment of our society and lack of humanity. My heart goes out to Stan, I've seen this all too often. I know in due time he will rest and recover, returning stronger to continue the fight, that's his make up. But until then a man, a good human has been relentlessly targeted and harmed.

My thoughts are long, they are raw, yet they are real and they are mine. It's a truth telling to promote awareness, kindness and to drive change. As I reflect upon my responsibility as the Workplace Support Manger in preventing Discrimination, Bullying and Sexual Harassment, I implore workplaces to understand the intersectionality of managing psychosocial hazards from a whole person approach. You cannot have psychological safety without cultural safety! In fact I would argue Cultural Safety is more representative of safety and inclusion.

The enormous courage of Anglo American Steelmaking Coal in tackling these issues head on to prevent harmful behaviours is commendable, yet we are fully cognisant this takes time, commitment and significant courage. Anglo SMC has taken charge in leading change for safe and inclusive workplaces and I'm privileged to be a part of the change.

My lived and professional experience, the intersectionality's of my life have brought me to this path. I am right where I am suppose to be, doing exactly what I am suppose to be doing with an organisation who is committed to the same path of Care and Respect.

As a biracial child arriving in Australia from Papua New Guinea I navigated a space where I was one of none. A strange name, strange language, my skin a light caramel hue and a slight facial disfigurement. The 70’s and 80’s there was nothing I could see that was me until I returned to PNG and later resided in America.

I think of my mother who was forcibly removed from PNG by missionaries in the 1950's and her fight to survive and thrive in Australia from years of trauma. This is her story as much as it is mine, my children and husband's story and those who are culturally and racially marginalised.

As a child or adult of colour you are not made to feel different until you are. The constant “But what are you?" “Where are you “really” from?" to "Eeww what's that in your lunchbox?" to the not so endearing nicknames that would make anyone cringe today. I learned early to armour myself, be invisible and small, get along with everyone, be humorous to avoid the potential targeting.

We were accepted by First Nations people therefore I naturally gravitated towards where I felt welcomed and belonged. With that came racism, micro-aggressions and profiling. The constant smiling through the thoughtless comments not to appear as “difficult” or “sensitive”. You soon learn to adapt and adopt as a survival mechanism. Although my mother is proudly PNG she was acutely aware, so there were times we “passed” but this wasn't as easy for me as my name and features were different. I was a small brown girl with a strange name. Despite being attuned of the minefields to navigate at an early age I was able to hold space for others. I could sense an injured person, their pain and vulnerability perhaps as it was closely linked to mine. Over time that changed, I now stand confidently in my truth as an adult and unapologetically claim my space in this world, pledging to do so for others.

I attended a private school that was on all accounts lovely yet so far from real representation of the community I knew. I recall girls initially being cautious of me, thinking I would be aggressive which brings back the false narrative of black and brown people being aggressive and unpredictable. If anything I was timid and shy. Then another biracial child enrolled and we instantly connected. He from Africa and I from PNG. We bonded and navigated the school yard together. My brother at the time befriended a lovely young friend who was a refugee from Vietnam. We were the epitome of the United Colours of Benetton .

As I entered high school and the awkward teen years of the 80’s it was painfully obvious no-one looked like me and certainly no-one on TV. I battled to straighten my hair and find foundation that matched my skin colour. It was interesting how comfortable people felt openly commenting on my appearance as if I wasn't present. The rings of “What are you?” continued into the 90's and was always the opening line. The 80's was the time of Dynasty and Dallas. Then the Cosby Show arrived, I lived for it. Denise Huxtable my 'Spirit Sista'. Light skinned, eclectic, quiet, different yet clumsily navigating her way through early adulthood. She got me through those years of unbelonging, with the support of my strong PNG mother, Aunties, and my tribe of Soul Sistas. I soon leaned into myself and became unapologetically me, embracing my curly hair and tribal name Kana'e.

I married an African American man and we lived in the US where our two amazing children were born. We elected to send them to public school in America where they didn’t have to face the “What are you?" questions. They were one of many, not one of none, surrounded by diversity, they were included and they belonged.

When we returned to Australia sadly their experiences mirrored mine. My heart broke and like all parents of black children the conversations of race starts early especially parents of black sons. My husband was well equipped having faced the challenges of being a Black male and navigating the streets of Los Angeles. He is an extraodinary man.

The two initial comments my son shared at three years of age after a week in Australia on holidays was telling “Mama where are all the black people?" to "Why do they call me Webster?" This was the day the innocence and realisation of being different entered his little life. We navigated this space with love, tears and hugs and reaffirming their identity and worth. This is a constant in their little lives. He soon became a successful hip hop artist and the racial online bullying commenced relentlessly at a feverish pace. To this day both my children do not use social media both stating ' Mum, it's not good for our mental health".

My journey was now theirs, our son, however far more challenging as a black male youth to an adult navigating his safety. When does a child go from cute to threatening because of their skin colour? My husband and I created a place where although our children were seen as different they would belong and importantly be safe, confident and resilient.

Our children are now adults, residing in the US as this is their belonging. They are extraordinary and resilient, kind and passionate people, they are social advocates in inclusion and diversity. Their lived experience has shaped how they move in this world. We are exceptionally proud of who they have become.

Racism is not necessarily overt, it’s not always in your face. It’s also covert in micro aggressions, institutional racism, the constant challenging of who you are, your experiences and the stereotypes. It is exhausting to show up, be resilient and not be accused of playing the "Race Card" when you speak out against racism. Stan has endured this as do First Nation's and culturally and racially marginalised people all their lives. It’s a silent death by a thousand cuts. This is the long term toll of racism and bullying.

I recently read an article on Mitochondrial Eve and how we are all one and the same. Our features and cultures only different through evolution of adaptations for survival in the environments we migrated too. No better, no less, we all come from one single source of humanity. Race a construct. So with that said be kind, be inclusive, embrace the differences, educate yourself and ask questions respectfully. We all have a right to belong without our existence and identity being challenged, ridiculed, labelled or denied.

"You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here" - Max Ehrmann, Desiderata