In 2008, around the time our then Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, spoke a single word of mammoth importance, I was 6 – beginning to formulate what that meant in my own little life. I think of apologising to my parents for leaving my room untidy and drawing on the walls; or to my sister for always trying to speak over her; or the insignificant ant that I, with no malice at the time, trampled. I am unsure any of these are so different from Mr. Rudd’s.
On a personal note, I think the Apology is beautiful. It is okay to feel that way, to be vindicated by a single word. I can, however, with firsthand experience assure you that the tide effect of forced removal has not yet reached the shore. These impacts ripple through generations in a manner that quantitative data hastens to, but inadequately captures.
For so many of us the Apology was an ending, for others it was the beginning. Still, we would be remiss to discount its significance in recognising anguish. It is the first step in a two-part process, the second, to ensure it isn’t repeated. This is the burden we all carry, a shared oversight of the country we all hold a stake in. It is your civic and moral duty to toss your opinion into the colosseum of free thought and discussion. I am not the slightest bothered by what that opinion is, suffice that it is yours. In this technological era where attention becomes currency, we have found ourselves devoid of the individualism that propagates revolution and meaningful change.
My generation has been the first to exist in a post-Apology era. It has, in my estimation, emboldened a crop of young Indigenous leaders who I am steadfast in my pride for. I have had the distinct pleasure of engulfing myself in young Blak excellence and because of this I find it nearly impossible to be cynical about the future. If you could witness the passion and purpose of these individuals, you would share in my sentiment. I think back to being elected the Indigenous Youth Premier in 2023, and the words that I spoke in Parliament feel more accurate now than ever: “I see powerful actions every day in our state, from people, from communities, fighting for change. But now is not the time for rest. It is not the time for inaction… Let’s strive for excellence, let’s strive for our future.”
Whilst the future is hopeful, and inspiration is not a seldom found commodity, I cannot disguise my heartbreak at the failing life outcomes for my community. A life expectancy differential of nearly 9 years[1]. Education rates so disparate that I could identify them from an unnamed graph.[2] Suicide rates that continue in an upward trend.[3]
There is no doubt that significant work remains undone. It is paramount that this work be undertaken in a sustainable way, with an understanding of the entanglement of several social co-morbidities as what they are, and not instances in isolation. We must endeavour to provide the tools for self-determination and abstain from slipping into an unhealthy paternalism which seeks to do nothing but placate en masse. If the Apology is to mean anything beyond history, it must be in shaping the destruction of inequality that remains.
The Apology is something that we, as a nation, should be proud of. We must embody the values instilled in it, to match pride with practice. I challenge you to see the revolutionary capacity of empathy and understanding, to relish and revel in our unity. When you are inundated with disagreement, I implore you to find common ground.
They all tell me to hate my fellow man, but I never will, this is not in my vocabulary of life – and it is the single greatest act of rebellion you can participate in. I am unsure of the precise path forward, but I am wholly sure that it must be walked together.
[1] https://www.niaa.gov.au/sites/default/files/reports/closing-the-gap-2020/life-expectancy.htm
[2] https://www.niaa.gov.au/sites/default/files/reports/closing-the-gap-2020/school-attendance.htm
[3] https://www.aihw.gov.au/suicide-self-harm-monitoring/population-groups/first-nations-people