I live in the outer west suburbs of Melbourne and often take the train into the city. On these trips, I'm used to seeing a mix of faces around me. So I've had to stop short a few times this year as I immerse in different contexts of animal care. In my TAFE course and at places where I volunteer, I sometimes suddenly become aware that mine is the only brown face.
Like the time someone in class marvelled – disproportionately and needlessly – that an Indian parent had misidentified a goat for sheep to their kid at a petting zoo. In moments like those, it's hard not to feel acutely brown.
There is no easy way to be sure of anyone's background without being rude. But from what I can tell about animal care settings (i.e. zoos, veterinary clinics, animal shelters, rescue groups, wildlife parks, related tertiary courses), only one or two people at a time seem to not be of Anglo-European stock. It is much the same for wildlife documentaries; try naming a presenter who is not white.
We should be seeing more people of colour not just in animal care settings but in conservation efforts such as land care and river-keeping.
This isn't shade on anyone I know. It has been the deepest joy to find my people: those who are passionate, knowledgeable and committed to the welfare of animals, particularly native wildlife. It is in this context that I've learned what it feels like to not have to constantly prove myself.
It has been enough, for example, to put out feed for bandicoots or pick up quoll poo. It is weirdly liberating after eight years as a freelance writer and editor.
Contact and collective practice around nature can often unlock our sense of wellbeing. I've never felt more at home in my own life than in close proximity to wildlife.
I gravitated toward creatures from a young age. I grew up in a semi-urban town in the Philippine south and had the lucky combo of inattentive parents and pocket money. I was the kid most likely to bring home chicks, hamsters and fish at random. I once got a puppy from a friend for free. I bonded on separate occasions with a hen and a goat that I found in the yard (which turned out to be for eating).
There are usually underlying privileges at play wherever people of colour are under-represented.
When we moved southwest of Melbourne, we discovered a creek behind our house; I have spent mornings there, watching assorted birds. I regularly harass my family into going outdoors – along the river or beach, or at a state park – where I avidly check for signs of wildlife.
But it is not enough for any of us to be tourists in our own country, cooing at koalas or taking selfies with quokkas and wallabies. Knowing what I know about Australia's record on species loss/vulnerability, and being aware that many cultures hold utmost respect for animals, I feel that there's a bridge that could be built, and that doing so would benefit Australian wildlife, their natural environment and ultimately all of us.
Indigenous traditions are of course steeped in knowledge of country, including animals within it. Aboriginal rangers and traditional owners all around Australia continue to be critical to conservation.
However, traditions brought here by migrant-settlers also have high regard for living creatures – and it bears claiming. Christian symbology is replete with animals, from sheep, to camels and birds. Catholics in particular have a model in St Francis of Assisi (after whom the current Pope named himself) for wonder-filled engagement with creatures.
The truth is that they also care about animals and the environment, have much to offer, and may well bolster responses to climate change and habitat loss.
Buddhism, Hinduism and Sikhism insist that animals must be respected. There are several hadiths in Islam that specifically invoke compassion for animals: 'A good deed done to an animal is as meritorious as a good deed done to a human being, while an act of cruelty to an animal is as bad as an act of cruelty to a human being.'
In other words, we should be seeing more people of colour not just in animal care settings but in conservation efforts such as land care and river-keeping. I can only hope that my experience is anecdotal, and that plenty of people like me are out there looking after and protecting native fauna and flora.
Organisations can do more to tap into those tradition-based values that connect people with the natural environment, including a consideration of the barriers to entry in order to dismantle them.
There are usually underlying privileges at play wherever people of colour are under-represented. The truth is that they also care about animals and the environment, have much to offer, and may well bolster responses to climate change and habitat loss.
