Being an Aboriginal Woman.
Before I begin writing, I’d like to acknowledge the Traditional Owners of the land on which I call home, the Dharawal Peoples. I pay my respect to their Elders past, present and emerging. The ocean and the mountains are healing for my soul and I count my blessings to walk this land as the Dharawal did and do each day.
I would also like to acknowledge my own Elders from both the Gamilaroi and Muruwari Nations. I am who I am because of those who went before me.
My name is Amanda Fotheringham. I am an extremely proud Gamilaroi and Muruwari yinaar. I am that because of my mother and Ancestors. I also have the blood of my Scottish Ancestors running through my own veins because of my dad. I’ll be the first to admit that I feel no connection to my Scottish ancestry though. I have never been there so I’m not connected to the land which I feel is integral to who I am and my overall wellbeing. My DNA has been perfectly crafted together for a time like this. I am all of my Ancestors dreams.
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As a young Aboriginal woman, I have fought to believe that who I am and what I have to say is enough.
What my past told me was that I was not worthy and no one would listen to what I had to say.
I come from poverty. I grew up in social housing in a low socioeconomic area. University was an unrealistic and unattainable dream. I was physically and mentally abused from eight years old to nineteen. Being called an ‘Abo’ was my norm. Girls in primary school and high school found enjoyment in bullying me in school hours and in non-school hours. I had no family around and my single mother was suffering from trauma therefore negatively impacting her ability to parent.
How does a young Aboriginal girl find herself, set her dreams and build her identity in those circumstances?
She waits. She survives. And when she can no longer take it, she sets her wings free and moves.
It has taken years to work through my trauma…I imagine it as being buried in a dark web and each time I work towards healing myself, another strand is broken.
I must honour my past through truth-telling and sharing but I refuse to be boxed into the “poor, abused Koori girl from Western Sydney” narrative.
What people have viewed as weaknesses and simultaneously used as attempts to write me off are now my strengths.
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As a young Aboriginal woman, I reflect on the lives that my matriarchs lived. My mother’s life was a life of trauma as someone who was stolen. Her opportunity at a good, peaceful and happy life was snatched away, as a survivor of the Stolen Generations. My grandmother’s life was cut short after she was murdered by a White man. He faced no consequences. My great grandmother lived through a time where her culture was being ripped from her and the assimilation into “living White” was real.
Honour your matriarchs if you have them. I don’t. Every day I am pained by that fact. It is a privilege.
Hug them, love them, listen to them, hear their stories, receive the cultural knowledge they hold.
I would give anything to have my matriarchs call me “bub” and make plenty of cups of teas for.
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As a young Aboriginal woman, I have surrounded myself with strong Aboriginal women who are in my corner, who advocate for me and who cheer me on. They provide me space to cry and be. I was cheated out of a family because of the Australian Government but I take back my power by surrounding myself with deadly women.
Aboriginal women are the most powerful and magical people who walk this earth.
If you are fortunate to know one, listen to her. Love her. Stand with her. Fight with her.
Create your chosen families.
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There is so much to being an Aboriginal woman.
You are healing, carrying trauma from loved ones, trying to get ahead, taking on the responsibility to be the strong one, raising resilient and happy jarjum.
We are doing it all.
Power and resilience runs through our blood with our Ancestors cheering us on from the Dreaming.
