George Floyd. The name that went viral in May this year because he was murdered at the hands of the colonial and biased policing system. His name set the world on fire with cities everywhere demanding action. Bringing attention to the Black Deaths in Custody ongoing battle for Aboriginal people.
By June I was in my sixth week of isolation from work and university and suffering from lack of connection to country and family. A seven-hour road trip led me to two wholesome weeks off back home on Darumbal country.
I was excited that my much-needed trip aligned with Rockhampton First Nations community holding their first Black Lives Matter march, because this meant I got to walk alongside my parents, my extended siblings, Aunties and Uncles, and even a nephew for the first time, in a solidifying inter-generational moment of fighting for the injustices we have been born into.
Two days before the BLM march took place a Traditional Owner offered me space to share with community at the end of the march.
Two days before the BLM march took place a Traditional Owner offered me space to share with community at the end of the march. Whilst planning the quotes and colours of painting protest signs with a brother of mine and listening to Uncle Archie’s vocals rumble through my parents' polished floorboards I thought about the opportunity shown to me.
Hesitantly I declined in order to be truthful to my morals and free up space for mob that still live, work and fight in the community I now refer to in past tense. After some reassurance from Darumbal peoples and my parents reiterating that as far as I have roamed, that community is still my home, I sat and turned my caged thoughts into empowerment.
I stood on the pavement built alongside Tunuba (Darumbal word for Fitzroy River) and introduced myself through the names of my bloodlines to contextualise my solidarity with the many faces of community I grew up with. After gathering my emotions with the help of the crowd’s cheers of support, I spoke the names of my grandparents both deceased and still living, to remind those in front of me of who I am and revitalise their fearlessness to continue.
“I am not ancestrally connected to this country, but I was born and raised on these unceded lands of the Darumbal people as were my families and for that I must pay my respects to the Darumbal people and their elders past, present and emerging by committing to understanding that this Always Was and Always Will Be, Aboriginal land.”
The roar from the community after my mouth revelled in unleashing these words will stay with me forever. It was loud enough for all of my ancestors to hear and held time long enough for them to celebrate and rush back to deliver their vision for me. It was a moment of unity that reminded me of the times my grandparents and parents talk about.
I have chanted those exact words and acknowledged country before crowds many, many times but this time was different. This time, it felt like they were listening. Finally.
I have chanted those exact words and acknowledged country before crowds many, many times but this time was different. This time, it felt like they were listening. Finally.
Throughout speaking I tried to vocalise my empathy for the grievance of those who lost close family members to Deaths in Custody. Intentionally and with patience I stated,“We are here because we are stronger together, and together, and only together, is how we’ll get through this.”
Cultural protocols and word limits exceed my capacity to write the name of every person that make up more than 440 Black Deaths in Custody as of today. Being a blackfulla is often being caught in the middle, reflecting on the events from the past in order to go into the future. As my heart urges to pay homage to the black lives that were taken from their families, my mind tells me to leave space within these characters for the lives still to be affected by the system that stands. Although confronting, this is our reality. I’ve drawn the conclusion that for this simple reason, that’s why “Always Was, Always Will Be” is so significant for us, because although intangible, this statement remains truthful and one power that no one can strip us of. It withstands the colonial history people often mistake for accuracy and continues to reinstate our sovereignty.
Joella is a First Nations and South Sea Islander emerging writer. This story is edited by Mununjali author Ellen van Neerven for SBS Voices and is part of a NAIDOC Week essay series inspired by the 2020 theme 'Always Was, Always Will Be'.
National NAIDOC Week (8 – 15 Nov 2020) celebrates the history, culture and achievements of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. Join SBS and NITV for a full slate of NAIDOC Week content. For more information about NAIDOC Week or this year’s theme, head to the official NAIDOC Week website. #NAIDOC2020 #AlwaysWasAlwaysWillBe
