By Frances Mulcahy, MBBS (she/her)

I acknowledge the Turrbal and Yaggera peoples on who lands I live and the Quandamooka peoples whose waterways I have enjoyed all my life. Sovereignty was never ceded.

My spouse and I moved home not long ago. We have dogs and it was a positive for us that at the inspection of our potential home there was a very large dog speaking to us over her fence. Good, we thought, ‘dog people’ next door.

The neighbour’s large dog named Aura was quite vocal with all the activity of our move. Within a few days of moving in I met Aura’s owner, TK. She and I had a long get-to-know-each-other chat over the fence.

The steps and stairs of COVID19 health advice/directives eventually permitted a socially distanced get together. My spouse and I were invited by TK and her partner AB for late afternoon drinks to celebrate his birthday. Being the socially adventurous one in our marriage I went. I was introduced to 2 of TK’s 4 children. The young man in his late 20s, DY was actively involved in the conversation and his teenage sister, Ki who being a normal teenager, would emerge from her room into the lounge to share birthday food and then retreat to safety.

After establishing some comfort by way of sharing happy stories about various pets, I tested the ground for our neighbours’ reaction (if any) to having a pair of married women living next door. By way of assuring me that having gay neighbours was fine, my neighbours gave me the extended rundown of the various ‘gays in the village’. They continued to expand on the positive theme of inclusiveness. I was trusted with a fair amount of raw family history. I most certainly felt safe. One of the quite personal pieces of family history shared was that TK’s youngest child, Ki, a very fair skinned human, was fathered by an Aboriginal man (now deceased). I ask TK if Ki identified as an Aboriginal person. She answered yes, with a significant pause. My impression was that both the question and its more detailed answer were too complicated for any more clarity on that day. I also thought, ‘this area of their family life may be too personal to share with the new neighbour’, and fair enough.

With subsequent sharing of time, my spouse and I progressively became part of the neighbours’ furniture. Some weeks ago, I asked Ki if she would consider allowing me to talk to her about her experience of being a young Aboriginal person. I explained that the One Woman Project feminist group, for whom I write, was focused this month on racism intersecting with feminism. A small piece written about her perspective would be of real interest. Ki said yes, with a giggle.

Just recently my spouse and I were invited to share an evening meal. TK made it clear that it would be quiet, just the 4 adults and Ki. TK was being delightfully sensitive to the social phobia my spouse experiences. TK said Ki was looking forward to talking. I took that with a grain of salt, but at least Ki was not threatening to run for the hills.

After a delightful, simple meal was finished, I asked Ki could I put a few questions to her? She said yes, but was almost overcome with embarrassment. I asked if she identified as a First Nations person and got no response. It seemed that the question did not make sense to her. It was hard to tell as she was very anxious. She had the normal teenager horror at being the object of attention from multiple adults. I tried again, this time asking, did she identify as Aboriginal? Same response, silence, gaze directed at the table, hair swish and giggle.

I thought, go back, keep it simple so I asked what was her Mob? This time she looked at me and said she did not know what I meant, then giggled almost losing control.

I explained to her that I found the situation challenging because I was trying hard to be sensitive and not give offence. I tried to explain the use of the term Mob in respect of Aboriginal folk. I tried to explain that some people preferred the term First Nations, some prefer Aboriginal, some like Indigenous and many did not like to be titled Indigenous. Ki was very gracious as I stumbled over my good intentions.

While the exchange was going on Ki referred to herself both as Aboriginal and as Indigenous. She was still anxious, but she was engaged. I though, ask a really broad question and give her room. I asked her, could she tell me about being Aboriginal, or perhaps what her friends thought about her being Aboriginal? More giggles.

Ki’s mum and stepdad were getting a little impatient. I was concerned my attempt to be educated by Ki was almost over. Ki stood up from the dining table, took one step away from the table, held up an imaginary microphone and tried to start giving a ‘formal’ presentation. She lost out to the giggles.  She did a dancer’s shake out, obviously composed herself, did a few whole-of-body moves, took a deep breath and spoke in a formal manner.  She told the four of us seated at the table that she wanted to know ‘more about being Indigenous’. It was ‘not something that I talk about with friends much’. ‘Some kids say I am too white to be a proper Aboriginal.’

She did know some other Aboriginal adolescents who had shared the primary school Solid Pathways program (a support and enrichment program for academically able Aboriginal pupils)*. But as far as I could glean from listening, that was not a group for discussing the personal experience of Aboriginality.

Her ‘formal’ presentation was brief and was followed by a few more dance elements. Ki is a wonderful dancer; she is fluid and has such economy of movement one posture just melts into the next. She sat down and there was general conversation about being ‘too white to be proper’. TK related episodes where Ki had been distressed by white kids saying such things. As best I could tell Ki had not explored this topic with any Aboriginal folk. She said she ‘was scared they might think I am too white as well’.

My observation was that the challenge of ordinary teenage change was more than enough for Ki at present and while she wanted to explore her Aboriginal culture it was difficult.

Ki is a member of the Wiradjuri Nation. She has a surviving paternal aunt who is active in advancing Aboriginal childhood education. She maintains a social media contact with her interstate aunt. Ki’s aunty has assisted her accessing the supports available to Aboriginal students. TK and AB are very proud of Ki and pleased she has access to specific support and clearly appreciate her aunt’s help to put that in place. They were, as far as I could see, taking a very hands-off approach regarding Ki exploring, or not exploring her Aboriginality.

I asked Ki if she wanted more information about her heritage who would she ask? ‘Wikipedia!’ The answer was emphatic. My strong intuition at the moment was Ki was saying she is in charge of gathering her own knowledge and she needs to be in charge.

Ki taught me quite vividly that being a white passing BIPOC is very difficult for a teenager. Ki had been traumatised by the unkindness of white kids to the extent that she was reticent to interact with Aboriginal folk.

I very much hope Ki maintains her interest and study in dance. It may prove an opportunity for her to find and express her personal version of culture.

*Addendum:

1.     When I passed this piece to Ki for her editorial review she added to my information by telling me that she does get exposure to cultural heritage information from the 'Beyond the Broncos' schools program.)

2. Ki (and her mum) have read this piece with the understanding Ki had complete editorial say. Ki says it is a good representation except that I was in error to describe her a wonderful dancer. I was given permission to leave my statement unmodified.

3. Ki did ask why I got her name wrong throughout the composition. After explanation she agreed that I could stick with the pseudonym Ki.

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