I woke up today with a painful knot In my stomach, and I’d cried twice before breakfast. And a few times since. Tears of anger and frustration and impatience. Not my usual Saturday.
What right do any of us have, to put Indigenous people through this shit? It’s 2023 and we’re arguing about their right to influence political decisions about themselves? The racism, objectification and scrutiny of this entire process has been disgusting. Of course we should vote yes today, of course the First Peoples of this place should have a way to tell the government of the day their perspectives about issues that affect them. But the roots of this whole colonial political system are cruel, unfair and disgusting. By now, 240 years after the British invaded this continent, we should have been having more enlightened conversations about how we live here together. We should have evolved as non-Indigenous people. We should have done more, sooner, and with more appreciation and love.
What if this “nation state” that I’m allegedly a citizen of, votes “no” for Indigenous people to have a voice over issues that affect them? How will I be able to look my mates in the eyes again?
Well f&$k it all. I’m going to girl-up, wipe the angry tears from my eyes and keep working on my book with my beloved friend and Kombu-merri elder, Mary Graham. And whatever this country votes for in this referendum, I’ll continue to “vote” everyday – with every action I can take, and every conversation I can have – for a fairer, kinder community that can actually understand that our future and our happiness lies in working together in solidarity.