The day my son was born is still the most magical, joyful, mind-blowing day of my life. He was me, he was his father, he was mine to teach and shape and mould. To hug, to learn from, grow with, care for and love. For the first hours I stared at him, watched him breathing and cooing, his little fingers curling around the expanse of my own. He had his first bath and didn’t flinch or cry, his big eyes drinking us in. He was calm and calming and perfect.
Before we could leave the hospital there was admin. Name, parents, place of birth, date, nationality. On this form was a box to tick. Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander.
As I watched my husband tenderly holding our son, falling deeply in love, I stared at this ominous box. My pen hovered as my mind flooded with everything I’d ever been taught about Indigenous Australians growing up; through the media, through whispers on the bus, through friend’s parents, through school.
As a young person, I was given the impression our Indigenous peoples were generally the worst of all Australians. A group to be feared. They hung around parks and shops in groups. You shouldn’t approach them. They were different. Dangerous. They didn’t think same way as us. They were ‘other’. They were poor. They didn’t go to school much. They didn’t like wearing shoes. They got given cheap home loans. They often went to jail.
All these things I knew not to be true when I fell for the love of my life, and met his family. They were the first Indigenous people I’d ever known. They were kind and loving and family orientated. His mum welcomed me quickly with loving arms. They had it hard at times, but they were strong and united.
But in that moment in the hospital, pen poised, the ingrained learnings remained. With a tick, he’d be branded for life. With a tick he could be seen as hopeless, second-class, on a pathway to destruction, rather than how I saw him – possibility, significance, greatness, hope and love.
15 years on, I wish my thoughts that day were different. I wish I’d been taught the real history of Australia in school. The truth of the Australia Wars. How our First Nations people fought hard to keep their land, but also to befriend and teach the foreigners who landed on their shores and enslaved them, outlawing their language and culture. If I’d learned this, maybe I’d have been full of compassion at the plight of the beautiful culture almost entirely lost in a 200-year blink.
I wish I’d learned in class all about the gentle nature, the love and care and connection to Country. About the warriors, and the spirits of ancestors affectionately watching over our land. I wish I’d been taught Aboriginal words in primary school instead of French or German.
I wish I’d have been the proudest mum in the world to put pen to paper and officially join my English, ten-pound Pom heritage with my wonderful partner’s First Nations heritage. I wish I’d wanted to tick that box because, instead of fearing for my new son’s future prejudice and ‘othering’, I’d have known his blood was part of the sovereign beginnings of the lands we call home. Proudly part of a 60,000-year heritage. A people we could learn so much from. A people we could unite with and craft a unique and enriched history – together.
So did I tick the box? You’re damn right I did. And I’m prouder now of the man he’s becoming than any imagined future I had that day. Our young man is incredible. He is kind, intelligent, creative and ambitious. He is hope.
Days away from the Voice referendum, it seems the negativity associated with ticking that Aboriginal/Torres Straight Islander box seems is stronger than the positive sentiments towards our beautiful First Nations people. My sadness is overwhelming. I feel disappointment in our country’s progress and basic humanity, where I’d like to feel hope and pride.
This Saturday we all have our own box to tick. And we might hesitate about what it might mean for the future, we might be scared of the unknown, we might hold unending hope about all the positives that may come from it. After 200 years, recognition in the constitution for our First Nations people is the right thing to do. It’s the right box to tick. It’s one small step in the right direction. If not now, when? By ticking yes, you can represent hope too.