COURAGEOUS CONVERSATIONS ABOUT RACE: We are Australian

Presented by Malcolm Fialho

Senior Diversity Officer

Equity and Diversity

The University of Western Australia

The University of Western Australia Copyright 2010

Complied by UWA Law School

And Equity and Diversity

2008-2009

2

Table of Contents

Forward……………………………………………………………………………….......2

Introducing the Authors………………….………….…………………..……..…3

Background and Context – About the project ……………………......4

Racial Biography

Chad’s Story..............................................................................5

Cameron’s Story…………………………………………………...7

Christine’s Story……………………………………………………9

Daisy’s Story………………………………………………………11

Dennis’ Story……………………………………………………...13

Ebony’s Story……………………………………………………..16

Elizabeth’s Story………………………………………………….18

Katie’s Story………………………………………………………20

Michael’s Story……………………………………………………22

Shaun’s Story……………………………………………………..25

Stephanie’s Story………………………………………..............27

3

FOREWORD The higher education sector in Australia has experienced exponential growth in the past decade and our Universities today serve a far more diverse student base. The dynamic nature of the student population, together with the twin forces of globalisation and internationalisation, challenges us to be creative and respond more effectively in a competitive higher education market. Central to UWA’s vision as a leading research-intensive University is the development of cultural competence as a key graduate attribute, essential to their success in terms of both employability and global citizenship. This involves creating a supportive learning environment that ensures our graduates have the skills and values necessary for living and working in a diverse global environment. ‘Courageous Conversations about Race’, launched by the Pro Vice-Chancellor (Teaching and Learning) in 2008, represents an important strategy to embed cultural competence within the curricular fabric and broader student experience. The ‘conversations’ encourage students and staff to identify, challenge and, where appropriate, change their thinking about race and cultural diversity. I commend these racial autobiographies to you and am confident that they will promote a deeper, more active and sustained engagement with the issues of race, cultural diversity and community harmony. Alan Robson Vice-Chancellor 19 March 2009

4

INTRODUCING THE AUTHORS

Chad: I am a 22 year old Chinese male born in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and grew up in Perth and attended public schools in middle class suburbia, where “Asians” were a minority.

Cameron: I am a 22 year old Anglo-Australian male. I was born in Australia but spent half of my childhood overseas, primarily in Indonesia. Christine: I am Chinese Singaporean female born overseas and grew up in Singapore. I grew up as part of the ‘majority’ and experienced ‘minority’ status while studying in Perth. Daisy: I am a 22-year old Anglo-Australian female. I have been brought up with both British and Dutch heritage and traditions. Dennis: I am 28, born in Scotland to a white Irish Mother and a black Indian-Malaysian Father. My family immigrated to Western Australia when I was seven. Ebony: I am a 20 year old Aboriginal-African-American female and both sides of my family have mixed ancestry. Elizabeth: I am an Anglo-Australian female of European descent. Katie: I am an Anglo-Australian female. My parents are (very slightly) Irish Australians. Michael: I am 23, old male with an Indian-Malaysian father and an Anglo-Australian mother. Australia is my country of birth and I have lived here all my life. Shaun: I am 21, of Chinese descent, and was born in Malaysia but moved to Australia when I was 3. Stephanie: I am an Anglo-Australian female, with Irish, New Zealand and African ancestry. I grew up in Australia.

5

BACKGROUND AND CONTEXT ABOUT THE PROJECT

The ‘Courageous Conversation around Race’ workshops were implemented in 2008

as part of the UWA Cultural Competence framework. Based on Glen E. Singleton

and Curtis Linton’s theoretical framework in Courageous Conversations About Race

(2006)*, the conversations aim to challenge members of a University community to

deepen the ‘dialogue’ by talking openly about race on campus, and beyond. The

interactive sessions provide reflection tools to stimulate and inform the conversation

and help participants think through the myriad ways race affects our life and

professional practice.

The Law School, as part of the assessment process for the third year unit Law and

Contemporary Social problems, ran a Courageous Conversations workshop in

second semester 2008. The workshop resulted in a range of positive awareness

outcomes – particularly a deep intellectual and emotional engagement with race

within a race ‘privilege’ conceptual framework – which are clearly reflected in the

attached autobiographies. Each autobiography describes a unique and deeply

personal story of the various ways race and culture have impacted the participant’s

lives thus far. We would like these stories to be utilised creatively to advance race

‘consciousness’ across multiple settings, thereby promoting UWA’s social

responsibility and leadership role in the wider community.

The autobiographies and the theoretical framework together form a foundation for

educators to both deepen and sustain the conversation about race. The authors

underscore Singleton and Linton’s (2006) crucial point that passion and persistence

be applied to meaningful race practice. Though the framework identifies some

common themes across varied racial experiences, it does not prescribe a limit on

what the reader can gain from the narratives. Readers are encouraged to reflect on

the stories – on both the parts that resonate and those that are at the opposite end of

their experience – to gain a more nuanced understanding of the multiple ways race is

constructed, and acted out, in contemporary Australia. The stories also highlight how

racial experiences may differ both within and between racial groups, and explore the

nexus between race and other diversity characteristics such as gender, class,

education and religion.

* Singleton and Linton’s Courageous Conversations About Race (2006) is highly recommended background reading for anyone considering implementing Courageous Conversation workshops within their own institution.

6

RACIAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY: Chad I am a 22 year old, 100% Chinese male born in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. My family migrated to Australia when I was four in an attempt to escape the institutionalised racism present in Malaysia and give their children a better life. Chinese-Malaysians and Indian-Malaysians form a minority in Malaysia and face discrimination in the educational and economic spheres, where laws privilege Malays. Despite having a great liking for Malaysian cuisine and culture, retaining Malaysian citizenship and frequent family trips back to Malaysia, I have never identified myself as “Malaysian”. My cultural upbringing was predominantly Chinese which emphasised filial respect and encompassed customs which may seem foreign to Anglo-Australians. Yet, at the same time, my immersion in ‘White’ Australian culture from a young age creates significant barriers to communicating with my Chinese relatives living in Malaysia, Singapore and Taiwan, or new Chinese migrants. In this sense I find myself somewhat culturally and racially adrift – not completely Australian and yet not quite Chinese. My parents tell me that when they first arrived in Australia in 1990, Anglo Australians would occasionally swear at them, call them “Ching Chong” and make offensive hand gestures before telling them to “go back to your own country”. My mother believes it was due to anti-Asian sentiment that had been drummed up by Jack van Tongeren at the time. I was lucky enough to not learn about racism until I was well into primary school located in middle class suburbia. It was majority Anglo-Australian, with a small Asian minority. In year one, my best friend was White. By year three, although we were still close, we had moved on to different groups – he had become a popular White kid, while I had begun to hang out with the Asians. By year five, I had had a smattering of racist behaviour thrown my way but it was uncommon behaviour exhibited by a small minority of White children, and it never degenerated into violence. Things took a turn for the worse in 1996. In her maiden speech to the House of Representatives, Pauline Hanson expressed her view that ’Australians’ (presumably she meant the Anglo-Celtic majority) were “in danger of being swamped by Asians who have their own culture and religion, form ghettos and do not assimilate”. She also referred to ’privileges’ afforded to Indigenous Australians and other ethnic groups and described this as a kind of ‘reverse racism’ against mainstream Australians. She uncritically accepted the illusion of equality and colour blindness. Such comments divided the Australian population and some believed her to be a plain speaking woman who dared to say what everyone else was scared to. Others believed her to be a wilfully ignorant racist. Back in year five I did not fully understand what Hanson was advocating, or know much about the immigration debate. All I knew was that, quite suddenly, what felt like a latent hostility had been given ‘legitimacy’. In the school yard it was occasionally explained to me why Asians should “go back to their own country”. The reasoning was simple: Asians had come into Australia uninvited and stolen jobs that would otherwise have been given to “Australians” (besides, who invited Asians here anyway?). I related this to my mother who consoled me by explaining that those miniature Hanson supporters were merely parroting what their parents were telling them. This had the opposite effect on me to that intended. The thought that these views could be held by a large proportion of the Anglo society around me was frightening. I could deal with a few kids, but suddenly I found myself eyeing my teachers to determine if they held Hanson’s views which I found so repugnant. I think that the racism I experienced thus far pales to insignificance in comparison to the most marginalised group in modern Australian society – Indigenous Australians.

7

The mere suspicion that mainstream society and people in positions of authority (e.g. teachers, police officers) were predisposed negatively towards me was oppressive. Around that time, my mum was conducting after-hours math tuition at a nearby primary school. My best mate then, was another Malaysian-born Chinese, and he, my brother and I were inseparable. While mum conducted the classes, she would let us play around the deserted school grounds. Unfortunately, there was a pair of year seven Anglo boys who objected to our presence. One day, they enquired “why don’t you go back to where you came from?” A few minutes later, we heard a cry emanating from the outdoor play equipment. We found my friend’s five-year-old brother at the bottom of the slide bawling his eyes out and a trail of blood down the slide. Those kids had thrown rocks at him as he played. One rock opened up his forehead so badly it required stitches. He’s seventeen now and still bears the scar. I currently experience little overt racism in my daily life. Sometimes, however, I still get the feeling that “it is because I am an Asian”. My Chinese-Australian friends call it “the vibe”. I will also get the occasional “Konichiwa!” by some tipsy passer-by in Northbridge and it is a stark reminder that I am not considered “Australian”. It appears to me that in Australia it is acceptable to victimise newcomers or specific minority groups. In the 90’s that group was “Asians”. I think that has died down somewhat due to increasing contact with China as a result of trade arrangements and the fact that our Prime Minister can speak Mandarin. Before Asians, it was the Greek and Italian migrants. Today’s flavour of the month appears to be people of Middle Eastern descent. In reflecting on writing this, I found myself constantly wanting to qualify what I wrote – to say “oh, it wasn’t that bad”. One reason for this is that the racism I have experienced pales in comparison to what others have faced. Interestingly, another reason is that I felt an internal resistance to acknowledging that my race has had a significant role in shaping my development: I had bought into the colour-blindness culture and can think of two reasons why I might have done so:

1. To the extent that I fit in with the stereotype of “Asians” being academically strong, I actually benefited from it.

2. It is uncomfortable and also to a certain extent disempowering to think that race has an impact on my life.

Despite my initial resistance, critically examining my racial identity has been beneficial and led to a more critical examination of my actions and responses.

8

RACIAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY: Cameron Both my parents are Anglo-Australian born and bred in Tasmania where they had very limited exposure to racial difference. Unlike majority of their siblings, my parents moved from Tasmania and away from Australia. They have consequently lived within racially diverse societies and afforded their children this experience. My parents have not attached any particular significance to our ‘racial heritage’ and this is likely due to the lack of diversity within Tasmanian society during childhood. Two months after my birth our family moved from Melbourne to Jakarta, where we lived for six years. Life for expatriates in Indonesia in the late 80s and early 90s still had echoes of colonialism – we lived in a large house in an affluent suburb full of other expatriates. We were physically ‘disconnected’ from the rest of Indonesian society which did not mirror our own life of security guards, drivers, schools and institutions which were only open for people like us. My parents relished any opportunity to escape the confinement of expatriate life to expose the grittier reality to us as best they could. Not finding opportunities for work in Indonesia, my mother took a volunteer position at a centre for people with a disability and often took her children with her. Race played a large role within the confines of my childhood household. We had several live-in Malay-Indonesian staff with whom I had constant interaction. I viewed many of these people as an extension of my family, most obviously my nanny and our cook’s daughter with whom I spent the majority of my time with. Nevertheless, it would be naïve to think that I was totally ignorant of their racial difference with my actual family and I cannot say with complete certainty what extent it formed my perceived interaction between race and societal position. I am grateful for my experiences in Indonesia and the opportunity to be exposed to racial difference from such a young age. I credit this experience as having the primary role in developing my views on racial diversity today. I saw how race was intertwined with class struggles, between Malay-Indonesians and Chinese-Indonesians and white Westerners. At the same time I saw the injustice in this discrimination and in the prevalent White Privilege that exists even in societies with a non-White majority, and I desired change to this. I later moved to Greece and once again experienced another racially diverse society. I finished my secondary studies in an Australian boarding school. My high school experience was standard for Australia – most students and teachers were Anglo-Australian with some ‘international students’ who were almost always ‘Asian’ (Chinese-Indonesian and Chinese-Singaporean). My friendships largely reflected the levels of racial diversity found within the school – with my closest friends being an Anglo-Australian country boarder and a Taiwanese boarder. I was quite regularly confronted with racist attitudes in the boarding houses with rural students tending to be more blatant and upfront with their opinions. I was not willing to confront someone for fear that the perpetrator’s spotlight may be cast on me and my own differences. Racism at school at times escalated to physical confrontations and I remember thinking about the pointlessness of these fights. Perhaps most disappointing in these circumstances was the lack of thoughtful and effective action by the school. Whilst we would be told that racism was ‘wrong’, we were not given reasons why and discussion on race was not encouraged. Unfortunately, I don’t believe that any student’s perception of racial diversity would have been changed by this action or lack thereof. As a reaction to what I saw as racial intolerance, I became over-sensitive on the issue of racial difference and I went through a period where I refused to refer to someone’s race when I was describing them. Though I later realised ‘colour blindness’ is not strictly desirable or appropriate, racial difference can be useful when describing an individual another person is looking for, and that racial diversity should be something that is openly acknowledged and explicitly supported. I learnt that

9

acknowledging racial difference is not racism. Despite this, I still oppose the unnecessary reference to race when it becomes implicitly linked to personal attributes or worth. For instance, I still come across people who will say, “I met this really nice Asian man” or a “really helpful African woman”. I find this only has a negative effect as it implies a racial characteristic – that Asian people would be unfriendly, or Africans unhelpful, even if this was not intended by the speaker. Similarly, I still find individuals who say racist things in front of people from non-white ethnic backgrounds, without notice, and then as an afterthought will say “Oh not you!” Often they will try to make amends for a racist remark by saying “Actually my neighbour/doctor/dentist is [insert racial identity] and he/she is a really good guy.” While I cannot recall my extended family advocating any prejudiced positions toward racially different persons (as they are largely well-meaning), they can at times demonstrate racial ignorance. For example, my grandmother’s reference to ‘new Australians’ when talking about people who are neither Indigenous nor Anglo-Australian. In her eyes, a third or fourth generation Chinese-Australian would be a ’new Australian’ and a recent British immigrant would pass as ‘Australian’. Though attempting some form of political correctness, the statement is a mere assumption made on the basis of race, and is therefore implicitly racist. I find it frustrating that contemporary Australian society is double-sided on race. I have been taught that Australia values a ‘fair go’, yet at the same time the country is quite open with its racist sentiment. For instance, a recent study by the University of Western Sydney titled ‘Challenging Racism’, The Anti-Racism Research Project revealed that 40% of people say some ethnic groups do not belong in Australia and 10% are ‘outwardly racist’. Obviously there are a number of reasons for racism in Australia and it can be too easy to point to culprits, nevertheless I find the conservative media (e.g. The West Australian) to be one of the worst offenders. In the search for attention grabbing headlines, they will run front cover stories like ‘Sharia law in WA a possibility’ or ‘Muslim Women want right to wear headscarves’, playing on and promoting the community’s fear of racial diversity. When confronted with this (or a picture of Colin Barnett’s all Anglo-Australian cabinet) over breakfast, and after recovering from my coughing fit, I will point it out to my family and friends in an attempt to engage discussion and gradually fight ignorance.

10

RACIAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY: Christine I am Chinese-Singaporean, and have always lived in Singapore. English is my first language. As my parents were from Malaysia, they studied Malay and English, rather than Mandarin. My family is Catholic and influenced by the western ideologies of our religion. I attended schools with an English background and heritage. Until recently, western culture has been more influential in my life than Chinese culture – my ‘Chineseness’ has been limited to whatever Mandarin I needed to get by in school and the celebration of Chinese festivals e.g. Lunar New Year, the Mid-Autumn Festival. At the schools I attended, there were subtle undertones in the student culture that it was ‘not cool’ to be Chinese. The students comprised largely English-educated upper and middle class Singaporeans. While our common ‘Englishness’ bonded students across racial lines, it came at a cost to our diversity. Students from these schools were notoriously bad at their mother tongue and we Singaporean-Chinese even saw ourselves as a different race from students from mainland China. Chinese form the racial majority in Singapore, with Malays and Indians comprising the minority. The impact of multiracialism on Singapore society is difficult to define. The Government advocates ‘multiracialism’ because it is necessitated by our multiracial population and sensitive geo-political situation: predominantly Chinese Singapore is surrounded by much larger Malay-Muslim countries. The Government’s influential brand of multiracialism pervades most aspects of public life and has given Singaporeans a ‘common’ culture beyond race differences. The result is that while racial lines have successfully been blurred, Singaporeans have been accused of losing their individual cultural identity. Further, this focus on commonness and similarities has neglected the importance of substantive equality through catering to difference. Growing up in Singapore, I experienced “romantic multiculturalism”. We have four national languages, we study about past racial riots and we even celebrate “Racial Harmony Day”. I equated anti-racism with racial blindness. I believed that our education and civil service systems were firmly merit based, simply because I hadn’t heard anything to the contrary. Racism was the stark White-Black divide in the US and other western countries, not the reality of Chinese, Malay, Indian and other ethnic groups living in such close proximity in Singapore. International experiences triggered my racial awareness and desire to develop my Chinese identity. In doing community service in Kolkata, India I went from being in a majority of yellow-skinned people to being surrounded by dark-skinned people. I actually surprised that I noticed the sensory difference because I had thought of myself as racially ‘blind’. I met international volunteers from a variety of racial backgrounds and enjoyed interacting with them. I slowly became aware that they saw me as representative of my race. When I could not adequately answer some of their questions about my cultural heritage, I was deeply embarrassed. Attending the World Youth Day in Sydney was a similar international experience, but on a much larger scale. Surrounded by all the world’s races, I was excited whenever I met any Chinese people. I recognised that we had many commonalities despite living in different countries. Finally, I was proud to be Chinese. Coming to Perth, I did not expect to go through any culture shock at all. After all, western culture was not foreign to me. However, when I found myself surrounded by a predominantly white population, I started to feel very conscious of my Asian appearance and my Singaporean accent. I instinctively gravitated towards fellow Singaporeans and other international students. Interestingly, I realised that what intimidated me was not that I was of a different race to others, but that I was in the minority. I could interact easily with students of a different race than me who were

11

also ethnic minorities in Perth. Even after being here for some time, I still find sitting at ‘white’ tables in the dining hall somewhat intimidating. My experiences with ‘Whiteness’ in Perth vary widely. There are those who are welcoming and interested in my culture, those who are racially ‘blind’, those who simply are not interested and those who are only comfortable with me and my friends if we’re being ‘white’. I once travelled as part of a group that comprised Chinese, Indian, Iranian, Egyptian and Caucasian people. As we travelled, we listened to music at a high enough volume such that other cars could hear it. When we switched from English songs to Iranian songs our Anglo Australian friend was so uncomfortable that he insisted that we switch back to English songs. I was very surprised because he had never shown any race-related discomfort in our interactions. Being in the racial minority in Perth has engendered a sense of pride when others ask about my cultural heritage. I feel a sense of belonging when I relate to Chinese people (regardless of nationality). While I was in the racial majority, I had no need for a racial identity and prided myself on racial blindness. I think that the cultural apathy of the majority and contrasting racial pride of the minority are the basis for systemic racism. Cultural apathy on the part of the majority leads to an inability to appreciate the value of diversity and the systems put in place by the majority ‘pressure’ the minority to fit in with the dominant culture. The process of achieving racial equality requires committed effort on both sides – by individuals in the dominant race simply because they can get by without racial ‘consciousness’ and the minority race has to avoid defensiveness that results in prejudice towards the dominant race. The first time I encountered the concept of systemic racism was in ‘Law and Contemporary Social Problems’, a unit I undertook at UWA. Initially, I identified with the ethnic minority, because it was presented to us in the context of White dominance. I remember thinking that Singapore was more multiracial than Australia because I had never experienced systemic racism, nor heard any complaints from my friends of other races. I realised later that my perception of Singaporean equality was defined by my limited (privileged) racial experience: thus it was flawed in the same way as that of an Anglo-Australian in Australia or an Anglo-American in America. Informally polling my Singaporean friends suggested that friends from minority races were more acutely conscious of race while most Chinese friends were racially apathetic. I started questioning the notion of ‘merit’. I realised that even though the education system was accessible to all, some races do better than others because the values of the system are defined by the values of the dominant race. In this way, though overt racism is scarce in Singapore, true merit is elusive. The dominant race becomes the dominant class, and a vicious cycle of systemic racism results.

12

RACIAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY: Daisy My mother is British, my father is Australian-born with British and Scottish heritage and my stepmother is Irish-born with Dutch and Scottish heritage. As a result I have been brought up with Australian, British and Dutch traditions. However, I would consider that I am predominantly Anglo-Australian. I do identify with my heritage but I see Australia as a natural extension of that heritage. I was born in Subiaco and I have lived there for most of my life. The first time I became aware of racism was when I was about 5. I was at a supermarket singing at the top of my lungs “Einy meany miney mo, catch a nigger by the toe”. My stepmother heard me singing and stopped me with “Be quiet!! You can’t say ‘nigger’. That is an offensive word for a black person.” I switched to the tiger version after and I remember feeling bad about what I had sung even though I did not understand it. This was one of the few times when race was an issue in my childhood. I lived in a predominantly white neighbourhood and attended a largely monocultural primary school. As a result I did not witness much racism at primary school. When I moved to Brisbane a few years later, racism was much more apparent at a primary school I attended in a conservative and strongly Christian suburb. One day I was walking across the oval and I saw two African girls nearby. At the time I remember noticing these girls since I am fairly sure they were 2 of about 10 non-white people who went to the school. Two boys walked up and asked them “Why is your skin so dark?” and, then laughing, enquired whether the girls had spent too much time in the sun. The sisters ignored them and walked away. I remember feeling very shocked, sympathetic and also quite guilty. I had noticed their difference and thought it was strange that they went to a school which was so “white”. I had not made a racial slur but I had automatically thought that they were out of place. I moved back to Perth before finishing primary school and went back to my first predominantly white school. There were now a few European and Asian children in the school. As far as I remember I never witnessed any racial prejudices, however the situation was probably very different for those few students. Not only were there few other students who looked like them, but all of the teachers at the school were white. As far as I was aware the school was an accepting environment, however there is no doubt that it was a “white” environment. I started high school around the time that Pauline Hanson became popular. At this time many racist people I knew felt that they were being given ‘license’ to come out of the woodwork. The population at high school was much more racially diverse and also contained people from varied socio-economic backgrounds. As a result of these factors, I witnessed much more racism at high school. I had one friend who I soon found out was a vocal racist from a family where racism was an accepted, if not a celebrated, tradition. This was not limited to one particular race but included all Asian nations and Aboriginal people. Given this girl’s views, I found it quite ironic that she thought African American people were really cool. She would continually make racist jokes and comments and as a result many other people would think that this allowed them to express similar positions. I have been brought up in a very liberal family. If anyone ever says anything racist or politically incorrect in front of my parents, they will often be vocal in defence. As a result whenever I hear anyone saying anything racist I find it very difficult to keep quiet. I hate the idea that people will think that I agree with the comments if I don’t speak up and object. When I was in year 10, one girl and I made fun of another girl because she got an answer wrong in Science. After class, the girl’s friend came up to my bullying friend and threatened us because of our behaviour towards her friend. We all ended up in the principal’s office and the girl who threatened us said that she did it because she heard that we were teasing her because she was a Torres Strait Islander. This was entirely untrue as we had not been teasing the girl who threatened us and the girl we

13

were teasing was ‘white’. I am not proud of the fact that I was making fun of the other girl but it made me angry that someone was claiming that I was a racist. I had worked hard to separate myself from racist students and I made sure that my feelings on the subject were known. This experience made me feel so helpless, being accused of racism and then having to defend myself against the claims when they were so untrue. I still feel quite sensitive about it and I often feel like I need to justify myself and prove that I am not a racist. I think that a lot of white people in Australia must feel like this. I thought that once I came to university (and especially the Law school) I would not encounter the ignorance which was prevalent at high school. While this has generally been the case, I have still witnessed racism: One person recently said to me quite matter-of-factly, “I don’t like Aboriginals”. When I questioned this, the answer I got was “I’m not mean to them or anything, I just don’t like them”. I found this whole encounter extremely baffling, especially since he was saying this to a couple of others when we were talking about how we were volunteering at Lavan Legal on the Stolen Generation cases. This proved to me that, no matter how educated people are and how far we have come as a nation, racism is still everywhere.

14

RACIAL AUTOBIORGRAPHY: Dennis I was born in the city of Glasgow, Scotland. Both of my parents were immigrants- My mother and her were from the Northern Ireland and my father had Malay-Indian ancestry. I remember having a happy childhood and we lived in an area that was exclusively white, although I did not see myself as being any different to any of the other children. I have subsequently heard stories of how when my Mother pushed me down the local street in a pram, people would come up to her and remark “He’s lovely… Who does he belong to?” I suppose the fact that I had a Black Father and White Mother was something quite unique in Scotland. We were still part of the local close-knit Irish Catholic community. Some of my best early memories were of going over to my mother’s village in Ireland for holidays and being spoilt by my extended Irish side of the family. I found throughout my life I have identified more easily with my Irish heritage than my Asian culture, mostly due to these formative experiences. My Father did not have a strong racial identity- My grandfather did not speak to his children about India and as Malaya had a strong sense of British character, he was more concerned with giving them a strict colonial upbringing and education. Growing up, his family did not discuss their Indian heritage, though some cultural traditions (e.g. food) continued. I am aware that my Irish identity, in light of my dark complexion and Portuguese surname, is at odds with the stereotypical assumptions that people have of someone from this part of the world. Inevitably, every St Patrick’s day in Perth, I get challenged by an inebriate as to what right I have to wear an Irish flag...“You aren’t reaaaallly Irish, are you?” I have found that I am constantly shoehorned by others into an ‘Asian’ bracket, simply based on my appearance. I have often found it aggravating that people would impose an identity on me, simply to fit their pre-conceived notions. Even though I was one of only a handful of non-white students in the local primary school, I found that I was able to make friends easily. Though, as a child of 6, I can vividly recall one day in the schoolyard, when an older boy came up to me in front of my friends, calling me a “Paki”, and in no uncertain terms that I should “Go Home!” I had no idea what a “Paki” was and why he was calling me that name (Glasgow has a large Pakistani population). I remember coming home confused, asking my parents what he meant. The taunting at school would get worse. I remember coming home crying one day and telling my parents that I wanted to be ‘white’. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t be like everyone else, nor why my friends were excluded from the schoolyard taunts. Another day, I was summoned out of the classroom by a teacher from another class to face an accusation from another student who had ‘beaten up’ a younger pupil. When he was being disciplined by his own teacher, he had told her that the ‘black boy had made him’ do it. I had never even met my accuser before, though I was an obvious target to have blame shifted on. I was confused as the teacher started yelling at me, telling me that I had failed in my responsibility as an ‘older student’ (I was seven years old). It was obvious that the teacher did not believe that I was telling the truth. My eyes began to well and the tears soon came pouring out. Her response was to tell me to grow up and that I was too big to be crying. It is hard for me to articulate what I felt at this time, though I can probably intellectualise it in hindsight. I know it was something akin to a searing, almost burning hurt and a bitter sense of injustice... Why was this boy blaming me for something I had not done? Why did this teacher believe his lies over my truth? I was to re-live these same feelings of confusion and indignation, throughout my formative years and beyond. Our family moved to Australia the following year. I was unhappy at having to leave both my extended family and my school friends in Scotland, though this new country did seem exciting. At my new school, I was the only dark-skinned child, and the only one with a thick Glasgow accent to boot! There was no getting away from the fact that I was different from everyone else and I even used it to my advantage. I was a novelty, and I found this meant I was able to make new friends, though still not immune to racial bullying. Soon after arrival, I was accosted by teenagers whilst

15

playing in a park, one aggressively asking “What are you doing here, you boong?” I had no idea what a ‘boong’ was, but I knew from the way they were trying to intimidate me, and from my previous playground experiences, that it must be something similar to a ’Paki’. Whilst name-calling and playground bullying continued, I soon developed a quick-tongue and would try to give back as good as I got. At this point, I saw the colour of my skin as being an identifiable mark, like the kid who was overweight, or who had freckles. I was by no means the only kid who was bullied in the schoolyard, nor did I get it the worst. I went to High school in a predominately European settled area of Perth. The White ‘Australian’ students were now in the minority with the ‘ethnics’ (consisting of mostly either 1st or 2nd generation Europeans) in a sizeable majority. As a result of this, my best friends came from a cross-section of this spectrum. Despite having a variety of ethnic backgrounds, we had a commonality of experience, living in Australia and being from a background not limited to a ‘white’ experience. Despite now being part of a somewhat disparate collective of ’ethnic’ Australians, there were still numerous occasions where I felt marginalised. Once, when waiting for a train to go to school, I was approached by an undercover police officer who pulled me off the platform and demanded in no uncertain terms that he search my school bag as he suspected that I was carrying drugs. I meekly submitted to his search, and I once again felt hurt and confused. Why had I been searched? He told me that I fitted a description of someone he was looking for. I didn’t question him further. I just wanted to get on the train as fast as possible and bury my head, away from anyone who might have seen what had happened. Ironically, there were white Surfie students on the very same train platform who were well known in school circles to smoke marijuana ‘cones’ yet I had never seen or heard of them being approached by police. It was now that I felt that the colour of my skin was much more than an identifiable mark like freckles or being overweight - it became almost like a badge that society had forced me to wear. Instances of being singled out or profiled by authority figures are too numerous to mention. I have been trailed and stopped by security guards at a shopping centre, who did not believe that the car I was about to get into was in fact my own! I sometimes wonder how I kept my anger in check on this occasion, and subsequent other occasions, when I felt like lashing out. What really hurt the most was when I found out that my younger brothers, both shy and sensitive, have encountered similar experiences of being singled out by authority figures. I felt a sense of rage and powerlessness that they were being exposed to the same levels of harassment. For the most part, my personal contact with Indigenous people has been limited. As I learnt more about the history of Indigenous people, I began to feel a sense of guilt as an ‘intruder’ on their birthright. I felt collectively responsible in that even though I was, relatively speaking, a ‘foreigner’ I was still classed in a strata above Indigenous people. I began to realise the number of advantages that had been given to me. We were lucky enough to travel to Germany to follow the Australian team in the 2006 World Cup. It was quite an epiphany, seeing the number of travelling Australian supporters from varied racial backgrounds, coming together in Green and Gold to support a team whose make-up was just as varied. I have an ideal of what it means to be an Australian, one that reflects the diversity and cultural richness of its occupants. I do often wonder if my Australian identity is just an ideal, an identity of convenience that I am able to bracket myself into. I am reminded that we still have a fair way to go when confronted with the Cronulla riots and other acts of institutional racism in this country today. I don’t think it is hard not to love what Australia can or should be. It’s just that sometimes, it seems that we still take large steps backward or veer off the road somewhat. I still would feel uncomfortable waving an Australian flag, with the historical baggage that the Union Jack connotes to me, and personally hope for something that is truly symbolic of an Indigenous and Non-Indigenous Australia. I have found that my experiences of being “different” and having to adapt to new environments, has left me with a “malleable” identity and even personality of sorts. I am able to adjust and fit in, depending on the circumstances. I have used this to my advantage throughout my life so far. Though this often leaves me questioning my

16

identity…Is it something fixed that I have constructed to ‘fit’ in to? Or perhaps something almost fluid? I like to think that my experiences have increased my compassion for people, regardless of race, who suffer injustice. I am still highly self-conscious, and believe that my personality, psychological racial identity, and physical racial characteristics are all inextricably linked. Today I am equally proud of my Irish and Asian heritage, and feel that it is not incompatible with my Australian identity. I feel enriched by my mixed background and cultural uniqueness, yet somewhat isolated and internally divided. I feel like I belong to everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

17

RACIAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY: Ebony For as long as I can remember, I have been the recipient of stereotyping, systematic racism and Australia’s mythical equality. For my twenty years of life so far, my experiences, life opportunities and relationships have all been shaped by my racial mixture. My ancestry is a very mixed one. I can not hide from racism no matter what, being that I am a mix of both Aboriginal and African American descent. In present day Australia, to me, there is no escape from the discrimination and racism that ‘the other’ has always endured. By other I mean people who are not of the white dominant society. The colonialist thinking of the past is present everywhere in my eyes - there is never a day where I am not subject to racism, or fighting for people with similar heritage. I find that no matter what, I am torn between my ethnicity and assimilating in order to survive and succeed as a Black woman in Australian society. I have learnt to use this internal battle to my advantage as it provides me with a sense of ‘fight’ that in a way fuels every thing I do. As an Aboriginal- African American, or ‘Niggergine’ as I have been called, it’s so much more difficult to ‘achieve’ as we are not equal in terms of status or in the eyes of the law or the wider society in general. Based on the colour of my skin, I am born at a disadvantage. This is not a myth: the myth is that all Australian citizens are born equal. Though I have been born into a position of disadvantage from a racial perspective, I have been lucky that my parents and grandparents decided to be the orchestrators of their own lives, but many of my people have not been able to do this. So, in a sense, I have been born into a position of advantage not through wealth, race or status, but through discipline, cultural knowledge and heritage and a strong foundation of love. All that is ‘me’ - culture, tradition, law, Aboriginality, the essence of my personality, self image - at times must be put aside if I am to be an educated, working, active member of society, the opposite of everything mainstream Australia believes and Aboriginal stereotypes portray. This is a dilemma I am faced with daily doing a law degree. It is not my law, the law of my people that has governed for more than forty thousand years, but instead white man law that I am studying since my people’s law is not recognized. My writing and oral skills are assessed not by the Broome Creole, or the broken Aboriginal English I have spoken for my whole life, but instead by standard Australian English, and when I am complimented on my intelligence, how well spoken I am, or how articulate I am, this is always followed by ‘for a black person’. I was once awarded an A grade in an essay in high school, the teacher approached me and asked if the work was original as if she could not believe that I as a black student could produce work of such a standard. My mother was then questioned to verify my story. To succeed I have had to change the way I talk, I have had to try much harder than the rest of the white, middle class, private school youth in my classes, and I am forever bearing the flag of my people, in ways that an Anglo Australian can never understand. It is sad to think that everything I’ve achieved, in a way, has been my own way of overcoming the adversity that unfortunately is my birthright as a black female in a country built on the racism, dispossession, discrimination and oppression of my people. As an Aboriginal and an African, not a day goes by when I am not subject to some sort of racism. Things as simple as using public transport, shopping, hanging with my friends in public or going to school, often end with experiencing racism. When I was at a bus stop with an African friend, a driver yelled ‘Nigger’ and a whole list of profanities starting with the word Black. When I go shopping, I often get followed by shop assistants and security guards, as if I am going to steal, simply because of the colour of my skin. During school, I was constantly in trouble for racially motivated fights, being deemed the troubled student, not because I started the fights, but to me, because I was a black student who would not stand for being called a ‘Boong’, ‘Nigger’ or ‘Coon’ everyday of the school year. I learnt that I could not do this as I would be succumbing to the stereotypes about black people - I would become the social degenerate or criminal that is so often painted of Black people in the media.

18

I find it amusing that I experience intra-racism within the black community, one based on country of origin, skin tone and the connection you have maintained with your original culture or language. As a result of my lighter toned brown skin, darker skinned Aboriginal and African people call me by the name for alike people from the eugenics based assimilation policies and 1905 Act of the past, a ‘Half Caste’, my African friends refer to my colouring based on the African Apartheid model, to them I am not Black, instead I am ‘Coloured’ or ‘Mixed’. I am no different from any other Aboriginal or African in the eyes of a white man. I have the same problems as any other Aboriginal or African person in Australia, the difference is that I have the worst of both worlds in a way as I am discriminated based on both ethnicities. I feel torn between two worlds in a way and my dilemma: Tradition/Aboriginality vs. Assimilation. To be successful and black there is a price as you must leave what you know or who you are, or at least hide it, and adopt the mainstream ‘culture’. Everyday I must become a chameleon of sorts, changing the way I speak, my mannerisms, the way I express myself, so I can do and achieve what comes naturally to a white person. So, if I suppress my Aboriginal identity whilst at school and in the professional arena, I will be rewarded by having a good job, a better lifestyle, success and greater status. This difficult ‘catch’ is that I must assimilate to succeed, I must lose my ‘blackness’, my Aboriginality, my Afro-centrism which is what I pride myself on, it is my whole identity. While achieving ‘whiteness’ can let you attain privilege, it can see you ostracized by black people. As a result of this push for ‘whiteness’ in order to be successful, I find that there is a conflict within the aboriginal community, especially when it comes to educating ones self. I feel, when I am around my own people, there is a sense of ostracizing toward those who are educating themselves. They are called ‘white’, and it is as if an education or better job shows your ‘whiteness’, and in turn a rejection of tradition, custom, language and all things black. I can be well spoken by white standards and I can speak Creole with my family and friends and have learnt to use both to my advantage. I have come to the conclusion that I will decide how I will act in different situations and I will choose which polarity I will use to my advantage. I will not succumb to the status quo whether it is from ‘white’ influence or that of my own people. This gives me a sense of empowerment - I can talk or act how I see fit and not respond to the pressure to assimilate or alter my ‘blackness’ or ‘whiteness’. In the end I am my own person, a Djugan-Gooniyandi and African American woman from the Kimberley.

19

RACIAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY: Elizabeth I am a white Australian female of European decent. My mother’s side is Scottish-English, and my father’s side is German-English. I went to a co-ed primary school and an all-girls high school and have never felt like I didn’t belong in this country. I cannot remember the first time I realised that there was such a thing as racism. When I was very young I learnt the counting rhyme ‘eeny meeny miny moe’. I came home and showed my mother how clever I was. The version I learnt consisted of ‘catch a nigger by the toe’. I can’t remember if my mother told me not to use that word, or simply told me that I had gotten the rhyme wrong. In any case I was told to substitute ‘nickel’ for ‘nigger’, which I have done ever since. That rhyme has never made any sense to me. I guess to a 5 year old it would have seemed plausible that you could catch a ‘nickel by the toe’. I probably did not know what a nickel was, let alone a ‘nigger’. I went to a co-ed public primary school and do not remember hearing or telling any racist jokes. My mother had always promoted the idea that we could do anything and be whatever we wanted. I always assumed that anyone could, if they worked hard enough. Although I would not describe my family as racist, they can say things which I find offensive. But, I have no problem correcting the language they use, or challenging the views they express. I remember at primary school there was one Macedonian boy called Jimmy. Everyone made fun of Jimmy for his hairy legs. I felt really sorry for him and told off the other kids every time they made fun of him. This, of course, led the other kids to conclude that I loved Jimmy. I was very glad to leave primary school where I felt I didn’t fit in. Aside from Jimmy, my primary school was almost entirely purely white and middle class. I was probably introduced to a wider variety of racial backgrounds, at my private, all-girls high school which had a large Asian contingent, but only ONE Aboriginal girl. I finally began to associate with girls on the same intellectual level as me. There was a perception at my high school that Asians were smarter, and I felt sorry for the few Asian girls in my year that did not fit into that stereotype. Even teachers seemed to assume that they would be intelligent and, when they didn’t reach the same level as other Asian girls, they were regarded as being lazy. I remember watching a video in year 7 called ‘blue eyes/brown eyes’ which described an experiment designed by a teacher named Jane Elliot in the US in the early 70s. A teacher divides her primary school classroom according to their eye colour. On the first day, the teacher gives the blue eyed children the power to ridicule and subordinate the brown eyed children, and joins in as they revel in their power. The next day she reverses it. The experiment is an attempt to expose prejudices and the irrationality of discriminating between people based on physical appearance. When the children are given the power they revel in it, and it is quite a scary portrait of humanity. Jane Elliot’s use of the ‘Blue eye/Brown eye’ distinction was always chilling to me in its similarity to the Nazi ideal. On a simple level, Elliot’s experiment shows the children how it feels to be discriminated. On a deeper level it makes them question the rationality. On one hand this kind of education was fantastic – it reinforced what I had always somehow known, that racism was wrong and didn’t make any sense. But what I never learnt was what my race meant. I was taught how it might feel to be marginalised, and I was outraged at how unfair it was. But I have never thought about the flipside – how I am privileged by my race. In that sense, I have truly been colour-blind. At school, one of my Asian friends and I were having a conversation about chopsticks. I was complaining loudly about how I was incapable of using them, and that she was so good. She looked at me understandingly and said simply ‘I’m Asian’. Which I obviously already knew was the reason. What she meant, but didn’t add, was ‘I’m Asian, I use them all the time at home. It’s fine, you don’t have to pretend we are exactly the same.’

20

When I was 15, I went on exchange for a month. My one striking memory was my host father asking me why Australia did not apologise to the Indigenous people. I had no answer for him, but I hated being tarred with the same brush as everyone else – a typical arrogant, ignorant Australian who could not acknowledge the past. In reality I learnt all about Aboriginal history. Girls at my school could opt to learn the didgeridoo as one of the optional instruments. We learnt about the different Aboriginal groups that live in Western Australia, and I learnt Noongar words, although I cannot now remember any now. One of our main texts for year 12 English Literature was the play No Sugar – about an Aboriginal family, the Stolen Generation and life on the missions. The same English teacher insisted we study short stories like Fish & Chips – about a modern aboriginal family struggling to adapt. In fact, that year all of our texts had cultural themes; the poetry of Seamus Heaney where we learnt about the Irish ‘troubles’. Our other texts were Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior – about a Chinese-American woman’s struggle to define her cultural identity, and Thea Astley’s It’s Raining in Mango – about defining class and Australian culture. I don’t say this to pretend that I have an understanding of racism, or cultural identity, merely because I’ve read about it. All I did was gain an intellectual understanding of race and culture issues. My Chinese friend said to me after reading The Woman Warrior: “it is just like me, I have no idea what I am, am I Chinese or Australian?” This is something I could appreciate on an academic level, but not at all emotionally or personally. I think that this academic understanding is nonetheless important – I can never understand what it is not to be white. All I can do is to understand how my whiteness impacts my life. UWA has students with much more diverse cultural backgrounds than at my high school, but studying law and finance, I haven’t really had the opportunity to explore issues of race and cultural diversity. I have been in the unusual position of being in a visual ‘minority’ in some of my finance classes. In one of my more advanced finance classes I was the only Caucasian studying the unit, (apart from the lecturer, who was also white), and one of only two girls. To me racism has always been totally wrong, and I can’t stand it. The danger I see is with people who express the view that “I’m not racist, I know that it is totally wrong” and that is somehow enough. People need to go that extra step further to look at themselves, and ask, even though I’m not in any way racist, what benefits have I had from being white? This is uncomfortable, but understanding that whiteness is a privilege is really the beginning.

21

RACIAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY: Katie I’m the daughter of two (very slightly) Irish Australians. Primary school largely comprised of white, Anglo-Irish Catholics and second generation Italian Australians. I don’t remember being particularly interested in anyone’s background in primary school or at the start of high school. In year 10 I remember noticing that people’s backgrounds suddenly seemed to matter: there was a self-identified ‘wog’ group that incorporated some of the most popular kids and large Asian groups (a mix between Chinese and Vietnamese students). People I’d been to primary school with who I’d always viewed as ‘one of us’, suddenly became more Asian. They hung out with other Asians and had their own great weekends and love lives that had nothing to do with us. I found this unsettling, there was a kind of unvoiced feeling that they had betrayed the team and I didn’t understand why. I was lucky to be absorbed into one of the bigger groups that was a mix of not-very-Italian Italians and ‘skips’ like myself. These distinct groups only mixed because of sports teams and the smaller more specific classes were a feature of senior school. I remember my English class being a great place for discussions with all the groups mixing together to discuss race and inequality in literature. I remember reading a great book in that class called ‘It’s Raining in Mango’, where a character living in the 1930s describes Australian social structure as: Mate Horse Dog Missus Wog Poof Boong, that’s the pecking order. Sitting in that class, you could see this structure had changed a little, but while Whites, Italians and Asians talked about colonialism and genocide, it was patently obvious that there wasn’t a single Aboriginal student in the room! Outside classes, I remember being baffled by why our parents’ nationalities should matter: a view that I, of course, was able to hold because race had never negatively impacted upon me. By the time I reached university I had unintentionally become a person of fairly limited understanding: all my friends were White or half-Italian, as all my boyfriends had been, and all my friends were Catholic or religiously indifferent. In my first year, I was studying Japanese and gained two new friends who were both Jewish. I can’t describe my excitement at finally getting to hear about a religion and culture that I’d only seen in movies or episodes of ‘Law and Order’. I think I drove my friends insane with my incessant curiosity. When one of my friends became my boyfriend, I spent all my time hanging out with family getting them to teach me Hebrew (having quickly exhausted his patience) or begging to stay over for Shabbat. Mixing with his friends, I was suddenly introduced to a massive community (invisible to me) that existed less than a kilometre from my own house. My boyfriend would take me to a party and warn me not to touch any of the boys as those who were very religious were not allowed contact with women. I was enthralled by this. At the same time, it was a bit of a shock to see my parents uncomfortable about my dating a Jewish boy. They were both friendly to him, but clearly baffled by his unknown religion. When we eventually broke up, I was sad that I’d lost all my new friends! There was something hugely attractive and mysterious about this group of people with such an inexplicably terrible history behind them. Perhaps what was so attractive to me about the whole experience was the fact that, as a white Australian with only a tenuous link to Ireland, I feel like I don’t have a ‘culture’. Viewing a society so rich in traditions creates envy in me for something more than the ‘shrimp-on-the-barbie culture’ which we are told exists, and which we are apparently supposed to protect. At the same

22

time, this ‘culture’ seems to have its dangers: the Cronulla riots and the ‘love it or leave it’ bumper stickers seem to twist culture into something aggressive and demanding to which we must conform, instead of something inclusive and malleable. When I transferred into law in second year I suddenly found myself in a whole new group of friends that are almost exclusively Asian. I can thank them for teaching me such great terms as ‘banana’: yellow outside, white inside; and ‘egg’: white outside, yellow inside. Arguably I’ve become a bit of an egg: looking at photos over the past few years has shown a definite trend. But sadly my ‘egg-ness’ doesn’t mean I don’t still forget important things. Attending a twenty first birthday last year, I arrived at the house at the same time as two other friends, both Asian. After greetings, one of them looked down and said, ‘Oh, Katie wore boots,’ and the other laughed, shook her head and said, ‘Katie wore boots.’ I was completely baffled by this I turned, looked at the front door, and saw the porch obscured by about 100 pairs of shoes. On closer inspection, some people had actually come in thongs. As a result, I spent the night wandering around in stockinged feet. I feel lucky to be living in Australia where I can enter another culture just by walking in someone’s front door (provided I’m shoeless, obviously). At the same time, I feel that being a white Australian today means being critical of yourself as I am continually watching what I do and say and testing it for some ‘wrong’ motivation. If I’m in church and I shake the old white lady’s hand before the old black lady’s hand, why did I do that? Does she think I was avoiding her? I am tormented by these thoughts and also wonder when it will end. ‘Colour blindness’ is neither attainable nor desirable when just a way of denying race and trying to pretend that everyone is white. I now see myself as benefiting from white privilege. I received a scholarship to attend my private high school; I can apply for jobs knowing that my interviewer will probably be white; I am viewed as trustworthy by my managers who tell me to watch out for Aboriginals in the store; I can walk up to a stranger and ask for directions, or the time, without them assuming I’m going to steal their bag; I can borrow money for the bus without being accused of needing it for drugs; I can return items to a shop without question; no one is ever afraid of me; people assume I am telling the truth; and I will always receive the benefit of the doubt. I am working harder to accept that racial identity is much more complex and much less one-sided now that I recognise the impact of white privilege on my own life. As confronting as the class discussion was, I think it’s probably going to be one of my favourite memories from university. ‘Courageous Conversation’ didn’t give us any answers, as Malcolm told us it wouldn’t, but it was a relief for me to hear the debates which constantly rage in my own head put into words and acknowledged.

23

RACIAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY: Michael I have an Indian-Malaysian father and a Caucasian Australian mother. English is my first language, Australia is my country of birth and I have lived here all my life. I have been Vice-Captain of my high school, President of my athletics club, best and fairest on the sporting field and have taken employment with a large corporate law firm. I have been called a nigger, black cunt, shit face and more recently, a terrorist and Osama. I have enjoyed almost every benefit of white privilege but I am not white. I have been exposed to huge amounts of racism but I do not feel black. The first time I remember being exposed to racism, I was five years old. It came in the primary school playground from a child two years older than me. The facts are not memorable – I won the game we were playing and he lashed out in frustration. Similarly, the insult itself was not well thought out (‘at least I don’t have shit on my face’) and relatively forgettable. In fact, the only lasting impression was the overwhelming feeling of frustration and this feeling, over time, has remained a constant. At age five I couldn’t understand why such a taunt had any power but I quickly identified that it definitely did – the reactions of other students clearly demonstrated that in our tit-for-tat argument, this was a comment that needed a response or I had lost the argument – my frustration was borne of having no answer to it. This notion of the power of racism, that it was something to be avoided, that it had an involuntary power over me and there was nothing I could do about it, followed me into my formative years. I can easily recall several arguments during my primary school and teenage years in which my opponent resorted to racism and I responded with immediate aggression, the product of immense and spontaneous frustration. It wasn’t until I was around 15 that I actually started to critique this unassailable beast. Over the next few years, I began to realise a few very important things: I didn’t identify myself as a ‘black [insert expletive]’ or any other manner of racist insult. So why was I angry when I was called one? I came up with a lot of reasons, but ultimately it was a question for which I couldn’t produce a good enough answer. I concluded that I was the one giving the racist the power. If I didn’t care, if I didn’t react, then suddenly the power was gone. Racism said a lot more about the racist – about their frame of mind, their frustration and usually about the state of the conflict – than it did about me. At this point I’d like to point out that I feel there are two different common forms that racism takes. The first is encountered far more frequently and is the product of emotion and circumstance (and, not infrequently, alcohol). This is the type encountered on the sporting field or during arguments with people I don’t know. It usually results from the speaker’s frustration. The second form I find far more insidious and involves discriminatory treatment based on ingrained stereotypes, absent of any emotional pretext. I’m sure most academics on this subject would disapprove of such a distinction but I have found that in practice, at least for me, the differences are extreme. When I was younger, I was more readily identifiable as being of a different ethnicity but over the years my physical appearance has changed markedly. I have inherited a mix of my parents’ genes that has clearly made it extremely hard to accurately identify my heritage. Depending on the context, I am now regularly mistaken for being from a number of European or Middle-Eastern countries amongst others. As such, I am now exposed to far less of the first manifestation of racism – I assume because my would-be insulters don’t know if a racist remark will have any power. The second form of racism, however, I have found to be readily controllable as it involves preconceptions – preconceptions which can be broken. I would venture that I genuinely share most of the values that mainstream Australians do. I also share many interests that are allegedly ‘Australian’, such as sport. This means that the

24

more time I spend with people and the more commonalities they identify, the less I am seen as ‘different’. There are other implications to this as well as the more time I spend with subtly pejorative people, the less guarded they become. I feel a sense of wonder and amusement how people feel comfortable enough in my presence to be overtly racist about groups to which I belong. In this sense I find it truly is possible (if not ironic) for people to become colour blind. It also lends credence to the argument that racism is borne primarily out of ignorance. However, shortly after realising this, another thought occurred to me – ever since I can remember, I’ve been trying to ‘fit in’. Another thought: if I’ve been trying to ‘fit in’, then I don’t think I belong in the first place. Then the scariest thought of all: if I’ve been trying to ‘fit in’, I’ve been pretending to be someone else. So how many of those Australian values and Australian interests did I genuinely hold? And how many had I adopted to make life easier? And what then were my values? It was these thoughts that received a fair amount of thought in my mid to late teens and ended with one more question. But first a story… A particularly good example of how well I’ve integrated myself was a car trip home from a pub in first year. The older brother of one of my good friends was telling the rest of us about ‘Miagis’. His friends joined in. It soon became apparent that they were talking about people from Asia who had not adopted English as their first language upon arrival in Australia and had not ‘integrated’. I was concerned. My father was from Asia. I’d known all these guys for many years and I looked up to them – I wanted to make sure I wasn’t suddenly offensive to them. So, I clarified “you guys know I’m technically half-Asian, right?” The responded reassuringly: “nah, you’re not, that’s not what we mean”, “we’re talking about the Asians with slanty eyes”, “you’re one of us”. Shamefully, at the time I was far too pleased to be “one of us” to give the race issues any more thought. Now, upon reflection, I’ve come to believe that racism is less about the colour of someone’s skin but more about difference. Why a racist person feels the need to be racist to people who are different, I couldn’t tell you. But also on the flipside – people from mainstream Australia are so quick to want to accept you if you display mainstream values. But somewhere in between my first racist experience and where I am today, I’d clearly identified that it was a lot more than that – with acceptance comes privilege. So after 18 years or so, I could at least explain why I had continued to drive myself to be the best white person I could be. It was no longer about fitting in – I could do that without trying; it was because life is good when you’re in the majority! So from my happy position of no longer being discriminated against, I was able to pose my final question: why should I want to or have to, fit in? It’s probably easiest to answer that question by looking at how I’ve ended up. I initially wrote in my biography that ‘to some extent, I adjust the way I act to match the people I am around’. I am a chameleon of sorts. I move in several different social circles and, in each, I am a very different person – some almost unrecognisable to the others. To my uni friends, I’m a lot like I was in high school – politically and socially minded; when I’m around my athletics ‘mates’, I’m a lot rougher around the edges, take more risks and speak very differently; then with my family, my church, the people I work with, the guys I serve at the Subiaco Oval members bar, the people I meet on the street,. I’m a very different person to each of them. It’s actually very practical but I also find it kind of melancholy. I honestly believe that early exposure to racism was a large catalyst in the development of my personality. If I had never felt like an outsider in the first place, then I would never have been adjusting my behaviour to such a huge and constant extent. And who would I have been without it? If I had never felt the need to ‘fit in’, how would I have turned out? Someone asked me recently that if I had the chance to go back and live my life without experiencing any racism at all, would I take it? I replied no, because it has made me who I am, even if I don’t know who exactly that is! There’s also that wishing these events away feels like one step away from them never having happened and I need the acknowledgement that they did happen. But more than that – wishing none of it ever happened is a form of self-loathing – because these experiences are inexorably tied to who I am, both physically and mentally, wishing they didn’t occur is

25

wishing I was different. And above all, people should be able to be comfortable in their own skin and the education environment should support that.

26

RACIAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY: Shaun

Perth. There were always a few other Asians in each class with me from primary school through to University so I never had that sense of total isolation. During primary school, through the ‘guidance’ of my parents, I took piano, swimming, taekwondo, and had Chinese language classes on the weekends. At that age though, I could not see the value of learning Mandarin when all I would ever use was English. I largely I was born in Malaysia to Chinese parents but was raised from the age of 2 in rejected Chinese school, and by association, much of the Asian culture. After all, what kid wants to do extra school on a Saturday morning? And when you’re trying so hard to be like everyone else, learning things that don’t ‘fit’ in doesn’t make much sense. I guess my focus when I was a child was to assimilate as best as I could into the mainstream culture, and not attract too much attention. During primary school I instinctively learnt that, if you stay in one of the predefined categories everyone accepts and expects Asian boys to be in, then you stay under the radar. If you stay under the radar, then you don’t attract attention, and if nobody pays you any attention, you won’t get bullied. I became one of those ‘studious quiet Asians’ to all those that didn’t know me – the ones that only spoke after raising their hand, and then only to answer a question (To all those that did know me, I was a ‘moderately talkative studious Asian’). Conforming to the stereotype worked out as quite an advantage as teachers would never conceive of me as starting any trouble. I was also quite a good swimmer but I never felt comfortable taking on the role of ‘leader’ as other kids who were the best at their sport often did. I don’t know why I felt this way - perhaps being popular wasn’t part of the persona I had adopted. There’s nothing quite like not fitting in anywhere to make you feel ‘disconnected’ from everyone around you. Whenever I went back to Malaysia on annual trips, I would identify as being an ‘Aussie’ since I didn’t understand Malay or Mandarin. And it felt good that I belonged to a first world country like Australia where there weren’t open drains, biting insects and dubious hygiene practices. However, back in Australia, I never truly felt Australian either which left me an outsider in both worlds. Growing up in Australia, there tended not to be many Asian role models to follow unless I wanted to become Bruce Lee, my parents, or an accountant. Football player was out of the question – my family simply wasn’t interested in the sport (why would they be interested in a full contact sport where it is tacitly accepted that a dropped mark can almost deserve a torrent of racial abuse from your own side?). Sure my parents drummed into me that ‘I can be anything I want’ but I think I unconsciously added a lot of exceptions to that phrase. My circle of friends has always tended to be ethnic minorities and it wasn’t like I had a problem with getting along with Caucasians, it’s just I found that often our values were different (e.g. emphasising sport over academic studies) and it in the long run it was just naturally easier to hang out with Asians. Aside from infrequent name calling, I haven’t been subject to much overt racism although one memorable period was during the late 90’s when Pauline Hanson began promoting her views on multiculturalism and Asians. I was still in primary school at the time but I can remember that this period brought with it a heightened sense of awareness about racial difference. I remember feeling intense gratitude to anyone who spoke out against her, but at the same time utterly helpless that we had to rely on them to defend us. It was a relief when she ultimately faded out of public prominence. I was recently with my Dad after helping out at a local football match, a couple of people called out ‘Beijing, Beijing’ as we passed by, in obvious reference to the Olympics that had just concluded. While by no means am I interpreting this as racist, it just struck me that the only way they chose to relate to us was on a racial level,

27

regardless of whether they were being friendly or malicious. If we had been ‘white’, I suspect we would have received a simple ‘hello’ or nothing at all. It was discomforting to be brought back to being singled out on race once again. Over the years of trying to reconcile the two, I have come to notice the significance of the differences in Chinese and western cultures. In particular, where there are cultural differences, the dominant way is always the preferred way. Australian culture is very physical and sport orientated. Daring, alcohol, ‘mateship’, and open expression of opinions and emotions are things which are valued. In Chinese culture, academic pursuits are valued over physical ones, prudence over daring, family over friends, reservedness and respect over expression of opinion. Neither way is really any more ‘right’ and yet, being studious tends to earn you the label of nerd, being prudent implies lack of passion, putting your family commitments over your mates is clannish, reservedness and respect for elders becomes shyness or lack of confidence, and sobriety means you have no sense of fun. Being polite and obedient is a masculine trait in Chinese culture, but is effeminate and passive here. I have also noticed over the years is that the Asian male has been desexualised. Asian men in popular culture tend to be sexless fighting machines, socially inept academic types, or repressive controlling authority figures. The Caucasian male is always seen as the passionate, progressive, romantic saviour. In reality, whenever there is an interracial couple it always seems to be a white male with an Asian female but very rarely an Asian man with a white female. Knowing in the back of your mind that Caucasian men will always be more masculine and desirable in this society changes the way you act and the decisions you make. For example, I no longer seriously entertain the idea of a romantic relationship with a Caucasian woman. The process of writing a racial autobiography has not been an easy one for me. I have had to resist the urge to play down and ‘joke off’ much of it. I originally thought it would be quite superficial but its scary how much material came flowing out, like it was always there bubbling under the surface. I now question how much of what I do is racially motivated – has it shaped my interests, my beliefs, my decision to colour my hair? It is confronting to think the answer is yes to all those things. I have always had the tendency to joke around the issue of racism, and I still do to this day, usually with the line ‘Oh, it’s because I’m Asian’. Although deep down, whilst my defence mechanisms have changed, the issue is still as fresh and raw as it always has been.

28

RACIAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY: Stephanie I have lived most of my life in a predominantly Anglo-Australian community. I am white; both my parents are white, as are my ancestors. The area in which I live, and the schools that I have attended, are predominantly populated with other Anglo-Australians. What I have always found interesting is how a person’s racial history is taken at face value. I am white, and speak with an Australian accent and therefore most people would presume I am a born and bred Australian. However, my father was born in Ireland, and his father and grandfather were all African born (Kenya and Zimbabwe). My mother was born in New Zealand, as was a great proportion of her immediate and extended family. Despite this mixed heritage, I wasn’t born in any of these places, or Australia. I was born in Papua New Guinea (PNG), where my parents had been living and working for many years. After I was born, my parents made the decision to move to Australia and I then became an Australian citizen. Technically, my brother is the first generation Australian-born in our family. What I find interesting about this is that this is not the assumption that would immediately be made upon meeting me. Most would presume, upon meeting both my family and I (apart from the occasional appearance of my mother’s New Zealand accent), that we have Australian heritage. I feel that this would be different for those Australians who do not come from an Anglo background. I have friends who, though they are second and third generation Australian born, have been asked where they are from – the assumption being that they were not born in Australia. Though I have much less Australian ancestry in my background, this assumption has never been made about me. The fact that assumptions about racial identities are based often on skin colour needs to change. ‘Australianness’, in my view, should be determined by what heritage you really identify with, rather than the country of your or your parent’s origin. It often feels a little strange when I think that I wasn’t actually born here in Australia, when this is the identity that I most strongly feel is my own. I definitely do not feel connected to a Papua New Guinean identity simply because I was born there. I think a large part of this may be due to the fact that neither of my parents are of Papua New Guinean origin. Though Australia was not my place of birth, it is my home. I have become an Australian. I spent some of my early schooling years overseas when my family moved to Belgium and these were my formative years in recognising difference. I attended an international school, where most of the children of expatriates living in the area attended. As a result of this, there were kids from all over the world at the school. It was like a big melting pot of different races and cultures. I think I was one of 6 or 7 Australians at the school, including my brother. I cannot remember then noticing racial difference between the students at the school. It appeared to me that most of the children simply mixed together. But perhaps one thing I noticed, and I recall commenting to my parents, was that sometimes during lunchtime the white children sat together and the children from non-Anglo backgrounds sat together. I also recall having a Japanese friend and I remember going to her house for the first time and having to take off my shoes and put on a pair of cool slippers. When I asked my mother about it, she explained that it was a Japanese tradition. I remember asking my mother if we could do this at home as well not really understanding what culture really was, and how I, as a white Australian, might have a different culture from my Japanese friend. Despite this, I have no recollection of really noticing the difference in other children’s skin colour. I think that becoming aware of this

29

difference is something that comes with growing older and experiencing the world a little more. One point in my life where I remember really being conscious of my racial identity was when I studied in the US. I was studying in a community in New England that was predominantly white. Coming from Perth, which I feel is quite ethnically diverse, I was used to a large Asian-Australian population. I was also surprised that I noticed this in the first place. I do feel that my racial identity as an Anglo-Australian has given me access to privileges that I had not really thought about before. Though I was not born in Australia, just by being white, I was exposed to privileges that would not be afforded a non-Anglo Australian with several generations of their family having being born here. I have never been on receiving end of a racist insult. Reading other autobiographies and hearing other people’s experience has opened my eyes to how much I have not experienced being a white Australian. It kind of makes me realise how much the bubble of white privilege really exists, and how insulating it really is. Recognising ‘race’ in others is difficult even though I acknowledge that I am white and that my non-white friends are Chinese, Sri Lankan and Indian but I struggle to see how I should be dealing with this difference. To me, it is just my friend. Yes, she does happen to have a Sri Lankan background, and I recognise this and the difficulties she may face that I have not and will not, but apart from this, the difference means nothing to me. I have less Australian heritage than most of my non-white friends. But I also think it is important to recognise my ‘whiteness’ and the position that this affords me. I have come to realise that my whiteness has informed close to everything about my life. Previously I didn’t really see my whiteness as part of my identity. I think this was because of the privilege and the lack of negative experiences I suffered as a result of it. It is also to do with being in the majority. I am proud to be an Australian and I am also proud of my European and New Zealand heritage and varied cultural experience.