AustLit

'It was a Wednesday afternoon when the call came. A distraught and grief-stricken message was left, by a mother; her daughter had just passed away. I was struck with shock and disbelief. I had to sit down. I composed myself to return the call, sat on the edge of a small garden bed in the midst of concrete buildings and joined up walkways. I took some deep breaths...I rang... the phone went straight to message bank where I left a quavering message in an attempt to hide my own shock and grief from a mother who has just lost her daughter.'  (Publication abstract)

'So I'm at Brisbane airport the other morning ay, no other blackfellas in sight. And there's this wanker in front of me in the queue, giving everyone in earshot the shits. The queue was slow as, after the night I'd had with Tracy mob staying. Musta had four hours sleep, tops. And this dugai's standing there with his neck bright red underneath the world's shortest haircut and he's on the phone talking about the weekend at Bribie Island. Well, talking - more like broadcasting.'  (Publication abstract)

'Always alert to the familiar tones and cues of a good story, as a child my eyes would widen and my ears would attune to another world, time and place. Sometimes there'd be one voice and other times, multiple voices as different ones chipped in, as we'd all hear the yarn unfold. Worlds of old time dances; travels to faraway places by horse and cart; family and ancestors since passed; escaping the flood after the river broke its banks in the middle of the night, baby in arms; a near drowning and heroic rescue; flood waters and floating in an upturned car bonnet; a saw mill as a playground; turning over pieces of tin looking for snakes, funny nicknames of relatives and the presence of unanswered voids. If you came in late to the story, wanting to get in on the yarn and wondering who was at the centre of the story, you'd be asking "Who? Who?' and everyone would have a giggle and someone would respond, "listen to the owl over ere" before telling you what you needed to know and continuing on.' (Publication abstract)

'In 2018, the dominance of male mediocrity in stand-up comedy makes me sigh. It's tiring sitting at shows where obvious analogy reigns. Shows in which audiences laugh hysterically simply on the comedian's entrance, way before he opens his mouth, way before a joke is structured, when you foresee an anticipated tsumani of a punch line roll in like a little swell. Dry, is the only rating I can award this type of comedy. Or as Aboriginal peoples often say, 'Gammin' i.e. fake, pretend, pathetic.'  (Publication abstract)

'I would like to acknowledge the Wurundjeri Willam and Yalukit Willam clans - two of 300 clans and 38 language groups in Victoria who have never ceded sovereignty. I stand before you today a proud Gunnai-Gunditjmara woman, living on Wurundjeri country. For an Aboriginal kid who grew up in public housing and left school at 14, taking my seat in this chamber is something I was told could never happen. Too many of our kids grow up believing this. Their lives are debated but not reflected in our political system. As long as those voices are missing from the heart of our democracy, we limit our children's potential. They cannot be what they cannot see. This is why today matters. It is a moment 161 years in the making, and it does not only belong to me. I have been inundated with messages from Aboriginal people across the country. I speak today on behalf of them. I am honoured to be the first Aboriginal woman elected to the Victorian Parliament. We have sustained and protected this land for thousands of years, and now in Victoria we finally have a say in how our land is governed.'  (Publication abstract)

'This is a speech delivered at the 'Transforming Democracy' symposium hosted by the Federation of Community Legal Centres at Melbourne Town Hall on 19 September 2018.' (Publication abstract)

'At Geelong Gallery colonial paintings depicted clouds at green horizon line. Flat stretch between Melbourne and the coastline verdantly expanding over canvases. Regional galleries are full of reverent pastorals like this, and each visit I remember the effect this land has. Not just for Aboriginal people but on settlers, too. In their paintings you can see the same awareness of light over country, even hundreds of years ago.' (Publication abstract)

'1. Concrete and dislocation. I can’t dream in Naarm, even when Koori mob share culture.

'I was studying urban planning a peculiar contradiction, trying to assert myself in a degree where Aboriginals didn’t exist. Trying to understand what right or role I played as a Ballardong Noongar woman contributing to thought and discussion on Koori land? But Lisa was Dreaming in Urban Areas, a Goernpil (Stradbroke Island) woman who found communi! and purpose in Naarm. She’d lived and dreamed along northern streets while my lecturers consigned Aboriginal content to remote Indigenous housing in the NT. Because there were no mob down south who needed a place to sleep.' (Publication abstract)