On 15 October I woke up profoundly sad. Like many people in this region, I’d been committed to supporting the Uluru Statement from the Heart by campaigning for a ‘Yes’ vote. We ran a cohesive positive campaign that embodied the core value of truth-telling. But it wasn’t enough. The results were deeply shocking. It felt hard to believe that this modest request could have become such a divisive issue.
Regardless of their position on the Voice referendum, the last few months have been painful for many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. And Sunday was the day that over 80% of ‘Yes’-voting First Nations people woke up to a ‘No’. How did they walk back into their communities? Face their white colleagues? Neighbours? Doctors? Did they feel betrayed? Did they feel hurt? Was this referendum another trauma that we colonists have enacted on the sovereign owners of this land?
On Sunday I woke up in shame. The kind of shame that lives in every pore of your being. I texted my nephew, Levi, who wrote this column last week. Levi, a Wakka Wakka/ Kubi Kubi man who lives and works in Naarm, the traditional lands of the Kulin Nation. When I messaged him I told him I was sorry. That I was very upset. I’d been crying all morning and hating that I was another white lady making this all about herself.
I was in my car outside the IGA when my phone pinged and Levi’s message came through. With his permission I share the contents of his message with you.
‘Aunt – regardless of the outcome either one of those results needed to happen. As uncomfortable as this is to hear – hearing that ‘No’ is also about truth-telling. Australia is now on the record for speaking its own truth. This changes nothing for those, such as yourself, who want better.
‘In the coming months and years that follow – it is the most visible tool at a global scale to hold our country to account and bring forth an alternative. I’m not being delusional – it’s just that my world has ended a million times before and yet the sun continues to rise, as if its forgotten the memo. We have the arduous job of not letting hate, anger or any of the things that allow a ‘No’ outcome to seep into the cracks of our damaged hearts.
‘Clarity is kindness – even if it’s not the outcome we wanted or needed, it gives us an astute understanding of where we are, how we carry ourselves forward. Best thing about love, solidarity and kindness is that we can always find more of it whenever we need it and for whoever needs it. I know you will be okay, as much as I know I will be – and as we all will be. I love you.’
I’m sitting in my car and I’m weeping. Giant salty tears. The beauty and the wisdom of my nephew’s writing undoes my anger. His compassion and his immense capacity for insight, and forgiveness is transformative. His intelligence transcends the outcome. This is resilience. I have to read the text a few times. There are times that words are like water on a thirsty earth.
After I compose myself I leave the car. The streets of Mullumbimby are empty, except for one man. An Indigenous man on the phone. He’s really upset. He’s raging about white fellas to whoever is on the other end. I am so ashamed. This is a painful day. I must not forget this. When I come out of the supermarket the man is sitting on a bench just staring into space. I don’t know if it’s okay, but I go up to him and I say ‘I am sorry. Everything you were saying on the phone is true.’ Then, because I was overwhelmed with emotion I burst into tears. And this beautiful man stood up and hugged me. In an empty Mullumbimby street a middle-aged white woman wept and was comforted by a stranger. He said, ‘Solidarity sister. Everything will be okay.’ He couldn’t maintain his justified rage at me as a whitefella. His compassion was instant. I was so humbled by his kindness. Here I was again, a white lady making it about herself, being comforted by an Aboriginal person on their day of pain and rejection. That’s bloody humbling.
I drove home with my heart transformed. I understood. Love, kindness, compassion. That is the way forward. There are millions of us who voted ‘Yes’, tens of thousands who actually campaigned. No matter how you voted, if you voted to support First Nations sovereignty, for inclusion, and for a self-determination, then we unite on First Nations justice and we work together.
Truth-telling. Treaty. We don’t go back. We go forward.
For four decades The Echo has printed the stories some people loved, some people hated, and some pretended not to read. If you want us to keep telling the truth, the real truth, not the sugar-coated version. We’ll need your support to keep the presses rolling. 
