I was born in Melbourne, Australia to a young mother who gave me up for adoption. I was adopted by a couple who later adopted another baby girl. I spent most of my childhood in Western Australia, and it was' up north' of Perth, that I met "May" an Aboriginal elder, from the Maya people. May would care for a group of children each day, near the town center. She would tell them stories and I was fascinated by her and the group of children around her. I was "polite" enough not to stare, but would sit
close by straining my ears to hear her speak.
I must have been a strange site - this little white kid just hanging around in the boiling heat looking nonchalant (well so I hoped)
and like I was waiting for someone.
As it happened, I was in fact waiting for my friend who went on to the swimming pool each day, annoyed with me that I preferred to stay there with "the Abo's" as she coined them.
She, at such at young age, had already been indoctrinated into
the shameful practice of degrading and judging others due to the colour of their skin.
I eventually ventured closer, and received a warm welcome from May and the kids, and spent many happy hours in their company.
I had no concept then of the "Stolen Generation" and what it meant for so many families who lost their children, and who, even today, have not been able to re-establish contact with their families and the pain, devastation and loss that many of that generation and their descendents continue to live with.
I had no concept of the fact that the Government believed that black children, especially the ones whom had lighter skin, would be
"better off" living in white society so they just went in and took them. It wasn't until many years later that I realised the reason behind the tense jokes and "over-concern" about the colour of my skin, (which would go an almost black-brown in summer)
was that there was always such a fear that I might be
"mistaken for an Abo".
Every summer I was therefore, faithfully smothered in sun-screen . I never could see why that was a "problem".
If it meant that I could be a part of the culture that had accepted
me so lovingly as May and the kids, then I was proud of the fact I could "be mistaken".
For those of you who are not familiar with this shameful part of Australian history, of the Aboriginal children were ripped away from their families, and sent to white families or "Missions" please see my Australian Aboriginal page, for the full story of that shameful time.
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