Page144 - Week 01 - Thursday, 3 December 2020
Next page . . . . Previous page . . . . Speeches . . . . Contents . . . . 2020 Debates(HTML) . . . . PDF . . . . Video
it was harsh. The deep intrinsic synergy between people in this community—their families, their country, their language and their culture—provided the foundation with which people coped with the daily routine of poverty, violence and trauma. I am forever grateful to the families in Maningrida and the other communities that I have since worked in for guiding my understanding and teaching me.
The last months of my time living in Maningrida coincided with the announcement and rollout of the Northern Territory emergency response, commonly termed “the intervention”. On a TV in a tiny township in the middle of the most remote bush, we watched the Prime Minister, John Howard, announce the suspension of the Racial Discrimination Act, and emergency powers were put in place to enact a raft of measures and controls that directly impacted each and every one of the 2,000 people living in that community. No-one, including me, understood what was happening and why. The fear, misunderstanding and misinformation in the community were palpable. There was fear that the government was coming to take their children, again.
In the days following, there were planes, large and small, landing on the dirt airstrip, full of politicians, bureaucrats, doctors and lawyers. The Army trucks drove the 600-kilometre road from Darwin, deployed to the community, and arrived in full force. Police set up checkpoints at every point of entry and exit. As instructed, the townships were compulsorily acquired, government business managers were sent in, health checks were conducted and incomes were quarantined. This was Australia in 2007.
I witnessed firsthand what it actually looks like when government has unprecedented powers, and powers directed to target a specific racial group. This was a pivotal moment in my life. It enshrined in me an understanding of the systemic level of racism and ongoing colonisation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples in this country.
As I now move into politics, I do so very consciously with a recognition of the true power and impact, both intended and unintended, that government policy has on people and their lives. I take the gravity of this position as a member of the Legislative Assembly very seriously.
After leaving Maningrida and the Northern Territory, I moved back to Canberra, to Weston Creek. Over the next few years, I worked to finish my PhD while having three beautiful children. Subsequent to the time I spent in the remote community, I also spent months conducting fieldwork in the Darwin casino. Having grown up in Melbourne, the Melbourne Cup—which every few years coincides with my birthday—was a very important day in the social calendar of my childhood. I was a teenager when Crown casino was built in Melbourne, and most of my 17th year was spent waiting to be 18, when I could engage in the nightlife that the casino had to offer.
Since 2005 until about four weeks ago when I was elected, I have worked conducting research with thousands of individuals and families that have been harmed by gambling, and the services who support those people in our community. For the last three years I was Director of the Centre for Gambling Research at the Australian National University. Today, I do not have to speak to sample sizes and statistical
Next page . . . . Previous page . . . . Speeches . . . . Contents . . . . 2020 Debates(HTML) . . . . PDF . . . . Video