Today I write to honour Rhoda Roberts. Widjabul Wieybal woman of the Bundjalung Nation, cultural powerhouse, storyteller, knowledge holder, activist, arts executive, performer, advocate, and SBS Elder in Residence. Words are inadequate, and culturally incapable of capturing who Rhoda was. How she lived. What she achieved. Who she touched. She was fierce, and funny, and humble, and inspired, and thoughtful, and inclusive, and unforgettable.
Rhoda never stuck to one lane – she occupied them all. I have never met another person who could do so much but still be so relaxed. Still have time for a conversation, or a cup of tea. Her light shone so brightly it was impossible not to be in awe. Rhoda centred culture in everything she did. And she did a lot.
She died on Saturday after a short battle with cancer. I was sitting in my car when I scrolled across the post on Facebook. I had to read it three times for it to sink in. I was about to host a conversation show, at the last one, Rhoda had been my guest. She had shared part of her enormous, important story, and her powerful vision for culture and Country. What a woman. What a loss.
I remember the first time I met Rhoda. It would have been around 2004, at Woodford Folk Festival. She was onsite in a caravan, programming the Indigenous component of the festival and working towards The Dreaming Festival which would kick-off in 2005 on site. This was one of Rhoda’s many projects. She had this knack for having a vision, then making it happen, all while doing 1,000 other things at a high level of excellence, at the same time. She multi-tasked multi tasking.
I remember sitting in her caravan, watching her cook for her family, drinking a cup of tea and chatting. Kids would come and go, artists and performers drifted through. She held this grounded centre, in the midst of chaos and action, she had this pervasive calm, this deep laugh, and this powerful cut through. This was a woman who made things happen. This woman was a leader.
She was the first Aboriginal host on mainstream TV, the inaugural head of Indigenous programming at the Sydney Opera House, co-founder of the Aboriginal National Theatre Trust, and it was she who introduced the term ‘Welcome to Country’. She stood fiercely in the public space as a truth-teller. Up until last year she was touring My Cousin Frank, the one-woman show written and told by Rhoda about her trailblazing first cousin who became Australia’s first Aboriginal Olympian.
I remember the first Dreaming Festival at Woodford back in 2005. Rhoda had asked me to come and teach comedy in the week before the festival opened to the public, so that we could present a show of Aboriginal stand-up comedy. At that time there were few Aboriginal stand-up comics, which seems hard to believe considering how central humour is to surviving colonisation – so it was more indicative of an industry that was very very white. Rhoda never missed anything. She knew how to plant a seed and grow it.
There are few people I truly admire. Few people who continue to inspire and educate. Who challenge the way I think. Who make me aware of my privilege but also make me feel included. Few people who have such powerful integrity. Vale Rhoda Roberts. This country has lost one of its greatest cultural leaders. In my heart, in the country I want to live in. It would not have been led by a white man. It would have been led by you.
Thank you.
Mandy Nolan’s column has appeared in The Echo for almost 25 years. She is a writer, comedian and artist, and was the Greens cadidate at the past two elections.
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. 
