The Power in Elevating Invisible Voices

Cobham Corrobboree

Colleagues at Impact Policy and I were fortunate enough to be invited into the Cobham Youth Justice Custodial Centre last week for a corroboree. The event followed the loss of a young Aboriginal man who had spent much of his adolescence in this centre and others like it. It was an emotionally charged event, with many still in the grieving process, resulting in a wide range of feelings from despair and pain to strong pride in culture.

Introductions, story and song were shared. Uncles sung while young fullas danced. At an interval, a young man addressed the audience. He articulated his frustrations at feeling unheard and invisible. He was courageous and powerful in his vulnerability. He spoke on behalf of his peers and the young brother they had lost. Emotion overcame him, and at once his peers rose, walked forward and stood beside him. Young fullas standing there, holding each other, painted in ochre, with smoke rising in the air. All this in the shadows cast by towering barbed wire fences, always reminding us of where we were. It wasn’t my first time in this situation, but the conflict I was feeling had never been more apparent. It was a powerful image.

The young man spoke to his frustrations of feeling unheard. He articulated what he and others like him needed when they exited custody and re-entered community, to empower them to find a place, strong cultural identities and ultimately avoid returning to custody. He outlined employment opportunities and access to culture as key elements, consistent with ongoing messaging I’ve heard from numerous young people in similar positions.

These are opportunities that all young people should have a right to but are so often denied. In this moment I was reminded it costs close to $1 million per year to keep a young person in custody. Imagine the positive impacts a million dollars would have on each young person if they had agency as to how these resources were prioritised. I’m certain we would have no young people in custody.

The men who had organised and orchestrated this corroboree had done a good thing supporting these young men; this was clear. The cathartic healing of the storytelling through song and dance was powerful, and the pride it conjured was evident. However, the Uncle’s  wisdom to create space for this young man to speak for him and his peers to the primarily white audience was an undeniable highlight.

How often do those of us with influence, voice and a platform feel that our role is to speak on behalf of others? I know this is something I have been guilty of. The men who organised the event had the humility and the insight to lower themselves in order to uplift these young men and give them the support and space to advocate for themselves.

Future Women’s International Women’s Day

A week prior, I attended the Future Women's International Women’s Day event in the city of Sydney. It was a very flash event, in contrast to our day in the custodial centre. It was special and moving, for a number of reasons. Brilliant and successful Black women spoke with power and authority, and I was fortunate enough to share a table with them.

One of those women was my mother.

It was a new experience for us as a family. It was the first time my brother and I had heard our mother speak in a public forum, despite many others having had the opportunity. She spoke to what she knows – the role of racism and colonisation in violence against Aboriginal women.

My day at Cobham reminded me of points she had made the week prior. Aboriginal women are the most vulnerable in this country to violence. Violence at the hands of men and violence at the hands of the systems our women and families are expected to turn to for support. So why is it that the voices of these Black women are so seldom heard, let alone believed? My mother stated, “When we tell you, will you believe us?”

There’s a historical precedent that those who hold power have responsibility to speak and make decisions for those seen as vulnerable or less than. Black Australia knows this well – our people are framed as the deficit by the system which imposes on itself an obligation to fix it. With this historical context in mind, it’s not difficult to understand why it is so accepted to speak on behalf of and make decisions for Aboriginal people.

My Mates - the Tree and the Magpie

Not long ago I lay under a tree, as I often do. Nothing consequential there, I’m pretty good at doing not much. It was a great big tree. I wondered how old? A magpie flew down and circled before landing. I wondered what they might be able to tell me about this tree. Who they neighbour with? What role did it play in this ecosystem? What could they see from up there?

I understood how limited my perspective was in comparison to this magpie. Maybe they were born around here? Maybe they had children here? Maybe their roots were deep here, just like this tree.

Imagine what I could learn from this magpie about this place and all the knowledge they hold. Imagine how limited we are when we are led by only what we can see, with our limited perspectives lying down, looking up. How many textbooks, articles, and media stories do we consume about young people in the justice system and domestic violence in this country? How many solutions are developed, then funded and implemented with such insignificant input from those magpies who see the most.

Power of Lived Experience

There is no university degree, no mainstream conference or academic journal that will teach you what that young man at Cobham taught everyone that day. In October, Impact Policy will be showcasing the voices of survivors of the out-of-home care and the youth criminal justice systems. Using our platform to elevate those voices is something I am proud to be a part of, as a member of this team.

There is opportunity everywhere if we are willing to slow down and listen. Not listening to extract, but stopping, slowing down and being present. To sit and listen with no objective or pursuit of an outcome is an Aboriginal way of being and doing, but I would suggest that it is simply a human way of being, albeit often forgotten under the pressures of the Western world.

I encourage us all to take time to listen, to really hear. Resist searching for opportunities to respond. In reflection, resist cleverly thinking about how we can regurgitate an idea or concept we extracted with limited understanding. Instead, let us find an opportunity to elevate these voices directly into our work, directly into our decision-making, and directly into platforms we have inherited or built for ourselves.

Be brave; be courageous; but importantly, be humble enough to recognise our own limitations and shortcomings. Not just as individuals, but also as social groups, teams, organisations and institutions. Sharing power takes true power, power through a black lens - humility, vulnerability, and strength.

Unfortunately, many of you reading this, like me, benefit financially, professionally and even personally from the ongoing mistreatment and misery of others. Our sector profits from it. How are you willing to change that? Like those men at Cobham, when are you going to sideline yourself to uplift others and their voice? There are endless opportunities.

Authored by Kuyan Mitchell for Impact Policy