The other day I was walking from my office to a cocktail bar for a cheeky post-work mojito when a violent commotion materialised out of nowhere in front of me.
It was a drunk Aboriginal man chasing a drunk Aboriginal woman around with a large stick. He was shouting at her ‘You bloody woman, I’m the boss over you, come here and learn your lesson.’
The stick was as thick as my forearm and when he eventually caught up with her at a bus stop he began hitting her over the head repeatedly until it broke.
All the middle class white people, including me, were frozen on the pavement.
I’d like to say I was brave, but I wasn’t. There was no way I was going to try and wrestle an intoxicated, violent man to the ground.
I remember thinking at the time ‘I wish my Dad was here’ because he would have been in there like a shot. Whereas me, not being a former rugby player or male, decided to cop out
At one point the man briefly lost his balance and the woman used the opportunity to escape across the road, not realising that a bus was pulling in at that exact moment.
She was nearly killed, but miraculously the bus was able to stop in time and she ploughed on – unfazed and barefoot – into oncoming traffic.
Not knowing what to do and with my heart still hammering, I stood completely still until the man had wandered off – still screaming obscenities. Once the adrenaline subsided, and at a loss to know how to respond, I just kept walking.
About 30 minutes later I was safely ensconced up the road and half way through an overpriced cocktail when the same Aboriginal woman appeared out of nowhere.
She began walking up to the table where my friend and I were sitting.
She stank. She had a bloodied face. She was asking people for money.
I felt like such a jerk sitting there in my Cue dress, sipping a mojito with my trendy friend in the sunshine. I was so horrified by the juxtaposition of my life and hers that instead of doing something helpful, I started to cry.
Way to go, Hawkesy.
As she trundled away, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she’d just been violently assaulted, I wondered what on earth I could possibly do to make things better for her and, to be honest, was it even worth me trying?
I wondered: Am I racist? Am I just plain middle-class selfish? Or, am I a rabbit caught in cultural headlights?
I don’t know.
What I do know is that NAIDOC week is almost upon us – an annual celebration of Aboriginal culture inAustralia. I also know that the March for Reconciliation is happening on July 8 and I know that I’ve just been appointed to the Aboriginal Reconciliation Sub Committee.
So as I am being thrust into the thick of this complex issue, I have decided to dedicate my next three posts to understanding what Aboriginal reconciliation is really about.
Yours in white, middle class ignorance,
LK
TB
June 22, 2011
Good piece, LK. Giving voice to the white middle class! :-). Difficult issue, but certainly worth discussion, regardless of one’s cultural or socio-economic background.
Ladyketo
June 22, 2011
Thanks TB,
It can be intimidating to tackle these issues when you’re white, middle class, but I figure that I have a responsibility to try. Reconciliation seems like such an enormous, out-of-reach goal, but perhaps we just need to have a fresh conversation.
Love LK.
dddamaris
June 22, 2011
Wow… this is intense. I’m looking forward to reading more on this issue. Thank you for sharing your experience and what you learned from it.
Ladyketo
June 22, 2011
Thanks D,
I’m interviewing a young Aboriginal hip hop artist tomorrow about his experiences and one of the stolen generation next week. Should be interesting.
Love Lk. x
Cal
June 22, 2011
I have been educating some aboriginal children for some time now and they are absolutely wonderful, they have really changed some of the stereotypes I have previously had. Looking forward to learning more from your place of middle-class influence.
dddamaris
June 22, 2011
I don’t know much about Aboriginal reconciliation or much about social issues in Australia but from reading these comments it seems to be similar to the ethnic tension that occurs in parts of American cities. I work with at-risk latino high schoolers.. many times when recruiting mentors or volunteers, the students find a hard time interacting with white people, or even the white people find it challenging connecting with the kids. And it’s hard for those of us trying to bridge that gap. Read my post on “Perspective”.. this is how I learned how to reach out to these kids… 🙂 You can make great changes in such small ways… just remember that.
Ladyketo
June 22, 2011
This sounds so interesting, I will definitely read that post and post a link back to it. Would love to hear more of your thoughts.
Tommy
June 22, 2011
LK, I like where this is going.
I’m a total rabbit in the headlights on this “issue” — I have no idea what to think about anything, and no real clue on how to change that…
Looking forward to what follows.
Ladyketo
June 22, 2011
Tommy, you are my kindred processor. Your honesty makes me feel less like I’m standing in the middle of the street with my pants down. I will do my best to make this conversation count.
Tommy
June 22, 2011
Well, if anything, we’re both in the middle of the street with our pants down.
But at least the company’s good, right?
Ladyketo
June 23, 2011
We have lovely legs. Just sayin.
lacegirl
June 22, 2011
call an ambulance??
Ladyketo
June 22, 2011
Nope. Wasn’t smart enough to think of that. I really outdid myself, huh?
bmac
June 22, 2011
Thanks for tackling this big question. I await your upcoming posts with anticipation and an open heart.
Love your writing to bits. x
Ladyketo
June 23, 2011
xx
dayaal
June 22, 2011
I don’t think your reaction was racist. I suspect your reaction would have been similar if not the same had the woman been of a completely different ethnicity. So it was probably the middle-classness at work. I can say that because apart from the crying, I would have reacted the same way.
The race issue here: we don’t see that kind of violence or drunkenness publicly among other races, not in A-town anyway. Why is that? Who, if anyone, is to blame?
Bron
June 22, 2011
Scary.
Patch@godbrother
June 23, 2011
“You bloody woman, I’m the boss over you, come here and learn your lesson.”
I fail to see a problem there.
The rest was certainly alarming. Was it in Light Square? I got chased there once by an indigenous fellow demanding cigarettes. It was quite scary, because I was driving a Sigma, and they’re not very fast.
I promise to take the subject more seriously in my next comment.
Ladyketo
June 23, 2011
You know it’s interesting, Patch… I wouldn’t need to be drunk to hit you over the head with a stick…
Patch@godbrother
June 27, 2011
You wouldn’t need to be accurate, either. I have a really, really big head.
Alastair Earl
June 23, 2011
Do you think you would of reacted differently if they were a white couple having an domestic in the street. As sad and wrong as it is for the lady involved, I think you did the right thing by not getting involved and I don’t think this makes you a racist.
Olivia
June 24, 2011
You are not racist. Its not your fault those people were fighting. If you tried to stop the fight, the man might have hit you with the stick.
Don’t feel guilty for the things you have. I’m sure you’ve worked very hard for them and deserve them.
Also, I hate when women wear leggings as pants too.