7. My Place

Racial discrimination is found throughout the world. In Australia, since the early 1980s, Aboriginal Australians have been given special financial assistance, especially for university education, to try to reverse the effects of earlier discrimination. In this extract, Sally Morgan, a young Aboriginal woman, describes her feelings when faced with choosing her Aboriginal identity.

By now, both Jill and I had many friends at university. All our lives, people had asked us what nationality we were, most had assumed we were Greek or Italian, but we'd always replied, "Indian". Now, when we were asked, we said, "Aboriginal".

We often chatted about what the latest comment was. A few of our acquaintances had said, "Aaah, you're only on the scholarship because of the money". At that time, the Aboriginal allowance exceeded the allowance most students got. We felt embarrassed when anyone said that, because we knew that that must be how it seemed. We had suddenly switched our allegiance from India to Aboriginal Australia and I guess, in their eyes, they could see no reason why we would do that except for the money. Sometimes, people would say, "But you're lucky, you'd never know you were that, you could pass for anything". Many students reacted with an embarrassed silence. Perhaps that was the worst reaction of all. It was like we'd said a forbidden word. Others muttered, "Oh, I'm sorry ... " and when they realised what they were saying, they just sort of faded away.

Up until now, if we thought about it at all, we'd both thought Australia was the least racist country in the world. Now we knew better. I began to wonder what it was like for Aboriginal people with really dark skin and broad features. How did Australians react to them? How had white Australians reacted to my grandmother in the past, was that the cause of her bitterness?

About half-way through that year, 1973, I received a brief note from the Commonwealth Department of Education, asking me to come in for an interview with a senior officer of the department. I was scared stiff.

Two days later, I sat nervously in the waiting area. I had pains in my stomach. I always got pains in my stomach when I was nervous. I'd been for interviews before, but always with more junior staff of the department. The senior people never usually concerned themselves with trifling matters like students, they were more concerned with important things, like administration. Several people walked past and looked at me curiously. I suddenly had the distinct impression that something was very wrong.

"You may go in now," the woman at the reception desk suddenly said.

"Thanks," I smiled and walked slowly into the office.

"Mrs. Morgan," the senior officer said as I sat down. "We'll get straight to the point. We have received information, from what appears to be a very reliable source, that you have obtained the Aboriginal scholarship under false pretences. This person, who is a close friend of you and your sister, has told us that you have been boasting all over the university campus about how easy it is to obtain the scholarship without even being Aboriginal. Apparently, you've been saying that anyone can get it."

I was so amazed at the accusation that I burst out laughing. That was a great tactical error on my part.

"This is no laughing matter! This is a very serious offence. Have you lied to this department? I want to hear what you have to say for yourself."

I felt very angry. It was obvious I had been judged guilty already, and I knew why. It was because Jill and I were doing well. The department never expected any of their Aboriginal students to do well at university studies. They would have considered it more in keeping if we both failed consistently.

"Who made the complaint?"

"I can't tell you. We promised confidentiality."

"It was no friend of ours."

"This person is a student and knows you both extremely well."

"But that doesn't add up. If they know us really well, they would have been to our home and met my grandmother and mother, in which case they'd never have made this complaint."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"You've obviously already judged me guilty. What else can I say?"

"I expected more than that from you. You don't seem very keen to prove your innocence. You do realise that this is a most serious offence?"

I'd had it by then. "Look", I said angrily, "when I applied for this scholarship, I told your people everything I knew about my family, it was their decision to grant me a scholarship, so if there's any blame to be laid, it's your fault, not mine. How do you expect me to prove anything? What would you like me to do, bring my grandmother and mother in and parade them up and down so you can all have a look? There's no way I'll do that, even if you tell me to. I'd rather lose the allowance. It's my word against whoever complained, so it's up to you to decide, isn't it?"

My heart was pounding fiercely. It was very difficult for me to stand up for myself. I wasn't used to dealing with authority figures so directly. No wonder Mum and Nan didn't like dealing with government people, I thought. They don't give you a chance.

The senior officer looked at me silently for a few minutes and then said, "Well, Mrs. Morgan. You are either telling the truth, or you're a very good actress!"

I was amazed. Still my innocence wasn't to be conceded.

"I'm telling the truth." I said angrily.

"Very well, you may go." I was dismissed with a nod of the head. I was unable to move.

"I'm not sure I want this scholarship any more," I said. "What if someone else makes a complaint? Will I be hauled in here for the same thing?"

The senior officer thought for a moment, then said, "No. If someone else complains, we'll ignore it."

Satisfied, I left and walked quickly to the elevator. I felt sick and I wasn't sure how much longer my legs would support me. It was just as well I'd lost my temper, I thought. Otherwise, I wouldn't have defended myself at all. It was the thought that somehow Mum and Nan might have to be involved that had angered me. It had seemed so mean.

Once I was outside, I let the breeze blowing up the street ease away the tenseness in the muscles in my face. I breathed deeply to steady myself and walked slowly to the bus-stop.

What if I had been too shy to defend myself, I thought. What would have happened then? I had no doubt they would have taken the scholarship away from me. Then I thought, maybe I'm doing the wrong thing. It hadn't been easy trying to identify with being Aboriginal. No one was sympathetic, so many people equated it with dollars and cents, no one understood why it was so important. I should give it up, I thought. I could finish my studies without the scholarship. It wasn't worth it.

I wanted to cry. I hated myself when I got like that. I never cried, and yet, since all this had been going on, I'd wanted to cry often. It wasn't something I could control. Sometimes when I looked at Nan, I just wanted to cry. It was absurd. There was so much about myself I didn't understand.

The bus pulled in and I hopped on and paid my fare. Then I headed for the back of the bus. I just made it. My eyes were becoming clouded with unshed tears and if the bus had been any longer, I would have probably fallen over in the aisle. I turned my face to the window and stared out at the passing road. Had I been dishonest with myself? What did it really mean to be Aboriginal? I'd never lived in the manner of my Aboriginal ancestors and been a hunter and a gatherer. I'd never participated in traditional Aboriginal dancing or heard stories of the Dreamtime. I'd lived all my life in suburbia and told everyone I was Indian. I hardly knew any Aboriginal people. What did it mean for someone like me?

Half-way home on the bus, I felt so weighed down with all my questions that I decided to give it all up. I would telephone the department and tell them I wanted to go off the scholarship. I didn't think my family would care what I did. They'd probably be relieved I wasn't trying to rock the boat any more. They could all go on being what they'd been for years, they wouldn't have to cope with a crazy member of the family who didn't know who she was. That's what I'd do. And I'd do it as soon as possible. I wasn't a brave person.

Just then, for some reason, I could see Nan. She was standing in front of me, looking at me. Her eyes were sad. "Oh Nan," I sighed, "why did you have to turn up now, of all times." She vanished as quickly as she'd come. I knew then that, for some reason, it was very important I stay on the scholarship. If I denied my tentative identification with the past now, I'd be denying her as well. I had to hold on to the fact that, some day, it might all mean something. And if that turned out to be the belief of a fool, then I would just have to live with it.

From My Place,

Fremantle Arts Centre Press, 1987.