Tertiary Education: A Long Time Sacrifice

Jelena Kovacevic insists that her laughter is always proportionate to the joke.

Iam very proud to be an Australian university student in 2022. Writing during Harmony Week, I’ve found myself reflecting on my heritage and am reminded of how fortunate I am to live and study in Australia. No generation before my parents pursued a level of education above high school if that. My maternal grandfather did not even complete secondary school due to his remoteness, which can be attributed to post-WW2 and the migration away from frequently shelled cities. My paternal grandfather was discouraged from studying by his own father, who expected him to be a trader - this can be put in stark contrast to my experience where I was not only welcome to study but also expected to. I was warmly praised for this decision by my family, including those relatives who were deprived of the opportunity to attend university. Neither of my grandmothers were allowed to study - both of whom were from conservative European countries. Additionally, unstable economic conditions- such as hyperinflation in Yugoslavia in the early 90s - and unstable political environments meant that relatives from both sides of my family were expected to enter the workforce as soon as they were able to. The cost of pursuing a university education was considered too great. The expansion of education is reflected in most universities’ enrolment over centuries and even decades. Not long ago, going to university was reserved for upper-class men. Additionally, the gender gap in UWA enrolment has narrowed over the years- from a 37% female enrolment in 1913 to nearly 50% by 2016.

My father completed his postgraduate degree just last year, after years of postponing his studies due to full-time work. I saw the immense pride on his face when he graduated at last! Immigration was disruptive for both sides of my family. Perhaps after fourteen years in Australia, he finally felt capable of severing every imaginary constraint holding him back previously. The trend is evident across the extended family: all of my father’s siblings studied once they dispersed across the world

too. I argue that in this sense, a country’s geopolitical stability is imperative to foster an environment for learning.

My decision to study political science and international relations stems from my longstanding desire to understand the world beyond my residence. From Norway to Argentina, I have always sought an explanation for how these countries came to be. As a fairly multicultural individual with both parents born in countries which no longer exist - Rhodesia and Yugoslavia, respectively - I am aware of the incredible dynamism of the world. Colonialism, war, democratisation, and economic growth is part of the history I confront in my classes regularly. Oh, but to think that previous generations have provided the pathway to where I am today is overwhelming. They did not have access to the wealth of knowledge that I can find on OneSearch. Becoming frustrated with the Wi-Fi in Reid library suddenly seems laughable! With the recent armed conflict in eastern Europe and many students caught in the middle, I believe that political science and international relations are more relevant than ever, and I’m proud to be studying such an important discipline. I recognise the privileged position I am in that allows me to study. For me, it has always been about learning. The right job will present itself to me at the end of this journey. Perhaps my decision to study an arts degree deviated from my family’s traditional inclination to more practical or science-based degrees. I like to say that I drew inspiration from my aunt, who studied law over in New Zealand.

Despite UWA being the oldest university in Western Australia by international standards, it’s actually quite young. Most European universities are at least a few centuries old. Maybe it is UWA’s newness being implicitly linked to increased accessibility and progressive equality that appeals to me because of my unique identity, which is influenced by, but ultimately distinct from that of my ancestors.

Stuck in the Middle (of Two Cultures)

Kassandra Fernando

Growing up in what is still predominantly a white Australia, my cultural heritage as a South Asian woman gave me a unique and unforgettable experience. Although you might not be able to tell from the way I talk or act, I am a first-generation immigrant. I was born on the small island of Sri Lanka and moved to Australia when I was three. Growing up in Australia, I was still connected to my Sri Lankan heritage through my family and our traditions. I was very proud of being Sri Lankan, but I was also eager to learn about Australia (the place I would call home) and embrace that culture too.

Despite identifying with both cultures, there is one question I get asked that still leaves me thrown for a second: “So, where are you from?” I find my answer changes depending on the context. If I’m travelling overseas, it’s always Australia, but I never know what to say when I’m in Australia. If I say Australian, I’m met with a confused look that says, “But you’re not white. Explain.” So, I then begrudgingly go into the whole backstory of my cultural heritage.

There were times in my life where I felt disconnected from one culture but belonged to the other, times where I felt ashamed, and times where I felt excluded. I have one distinct memory of when I had a friend over at my house during primary school.

Stuck in the Middle (of Two Cultures)

We were playing together when my dad came down to eat his lunch. In Sri Lankan culture, it is extremely common to eat our food with our hands, so that’s what my dad did. But, my Australian friend, who had never seen this before, exclaimed how ‘gross’ this was. I remember feeling so many things all at once while my cheeks lit on fire, embarrassed that my friend thought my culture was gross, but also upset at what she said to my family. I felt ashamed of a completely normal tradition that is a central part of our culture.

Although I cannot really blame this eight-year-old girl for not knowing any better, it does add another complexity when navigating my cultural heritage. What parts of my culture do I share with people? What if I am ridiculed for the parts that I do share? How can I feel both pride and shame? I think Tommy Kuti, a Nigerian-Italian rapper, summarises this feeling that most first and second-generation immigrants feel in his song Afroitaliano. One of the most powerful lyrics comes at the end of the song. When translated means “I am too African to be only Italian, and I am too Italian to be only African.” In my case, although I identify heavily with my South Asian heritage, I am also Australian. My cultural heritage is intertwined in complex and intricate ways, so much so that I cannot be one or the other. I am both.