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Communication and connection: Valuing Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander perspectives

4

JCPSLP

Volume 19, Number 1 2017

Journal of Clinical Practice in Speech-Language Pathology

KEYWORDS

ABORIGINAL

PLAYGROUPS

PRIVILEGE

STOLEN

GENERATIONS

URBAN

When I began my research for my Indigenous PhD, I

decided to use the setting of one of the playgroups I had

established. I was no longer the facilitator, so with the

permission of the playgroup families, I immersed myself in

it for three years to undertake my collaborative research

journey. I did not immediately become one of the mob. The

young mothers I had worked with, had, for the most part,

children in primary school, and very few of the families knew

me. I appeared as a stranger to them. I was an educated,

teacher-like authority person. I looked just like a white

authority figure in their midst. I was treated with wariness

for a long time, until they saw I was there to help the kids

without judging or devaluing them. In my role, I came to

see what is so discussed in the literature, but not often

really understood by mainstream researchers and service

providers. It was a revealing experience to me.

I came to see that Australia has many worlds. Working in

this context, I could clearly see that there is a mainstream,

white, Eurocentric Australia and there is another place.

This other place, the families called “Aboriginal world”.

In the urban context, it was not a different traditional

cultural space, but a colonised space shaped by daily

lived experiences. I found the families’ narratives of their

own school experiences full of experiences of exclusion,

racism, discrimination and fear. Much of this manifests into

anxiety and mental health issues (Malin, 2003). Aboriginal

world is not a lesser space to its inhabitants; it has a very

different tone and sensibility to mainstream world. It has

its own culture, its own history, its own language, ways of

knowing, fears and most of all the participants know it is a

place oppressed by the elite world of white authorities and

experts. Aboriginal Australians live in this colonised space

on a daily basis.

I am an Aboriginal woman, but have very little tradition

or language with which to identify. All that is left of my

language is a list of nouns and some recordings in the State

Library of Queensland. I was not brought up traditionally,

as my tribal lands, people and knowings were gone.

Nonetheless, I was brought up as a colonised Indigenous

woman with a colonised history. My grandmother was a

stolen child, taken on a shopping outing in St George,

despite her family being exempt from removal as station

workers. When she turned 21 she was granted a Certificate

of Exemption, which meant she could live as a white

woman provided she adhered to the conditions specified

in her certificate. She was not allowed to drink alcohol, nor

mix with any Aboriginal people – even her own family – and

finally, she was not allowed to speak her own language.

Most Aboriginal Australians now live in urban

centres, and many Aboriginal children and

families are not recognisable to mainstream

service providers as they are fair skinned.

This article tells what lived Aboriginal reality,

or world, is like for one Aboriginal educator

living and working within an urban Aboriginal

space. The authors, one an Indigenous

educator and academic and the other a

non-Indigenous speech pathologist who has

been fortunate to have received guidance

from many Aboriginal mentors including the

first author, will discuss how respecting and

understanding the offered lived experiences

of Aboriginal peoples, when viewed from

within a cultural safety framework, provides

non-Indigenous speech-language

pathologists with all they need in order to

work ethically and effectively within the

Indigenous space. So many professionals

come into Aboriginal settings to make a

difference. Understanding the lived

experiences of Aboriginal peoples may

enable this to difference to happen a little

better.

Robyn’s story

Ten years ago, I established a number of Indigenous

playgroups in mainstream schools in Queensland (Sandri,

2015). The playgroups were focused upon developing

pre-literacy skills and acted as a transition to formal school

agencies. I have worked in rural and remote locations, but

on this occasion, as with most of my career, I worked in an

urban mainstream setting. For those of us who do, our

Country is urban concrete. Although I have Indigenous

heritage, I had never worked in Indigenous settings or with

Indigenous people prior to establishing the playgroups. In

fact, I had lived overseas for most of my adult life, working

and studying in England and America. I knew of my

Aboriginal heritage, but it was rarely discussed or noticed

by others for I was a fair-skinned Aboriginal woman. In

other words, I look white and we fair-skinned Aboriginal

people are legion in a time of dual cultural marriages.

What is spoken, and

what is heard

Bridging the services gap via culturally safe practice

Robyn Sandri and Judith Gould

THIS ARTICLE

HAS BEEN

PEER-

REVIEWED

Robyn Sandri

(top) and Judith

Gould