identity

One of my friends called me the most racially ambiguous person they know. Yeah maybe it’s because on my mum’s side I’m Australian and Russian and on my dad’s side I’m Torres Strait Islander, Pacific Islander, Filipino, and Chinese.

I identify as Torres Strait Islander. My homelands are Badu and Mabuiag Islands. My Nanna comes from the Ahmat family line. She has 15 siblings all of which had kids, grandkids and great grandkids. My people are Wagadagum. My totem is koedal, aka crocodile. I’ve never been to the islands though. When I go to the beach and swim in the salt water I break out in hives.

You ask me to speak my language? Idk. Yeah I learned traditional Torres Strait Islander dancing and performed at Survival Day events when I was 14. I listened to Elders and learnt from their wisdom and experience. I learnt words and their meanings and sang them while kicking dirt off the ground. But I can’t speak it.

But I am definitely a blackfulla. I lived on Keen’s curry and chicken vermicelli my whole childhood. But I actually am picky and hate Keen’s curry. Yeah my Nanna used to cook lemongrass goose and my uncle used to make turtle stew for Christmas, but I never learnt, just ate.

I am a Torres Strait Islander. I struggle to swim and lost all my swimming carnival races at school. I’m 4 foot 11 and sucked at sports growing up. My brother on the other hand, travelled the world to play rugby. And yet I have huge shoulders and quads.

I am a proud Torres Strait Islander. I was a token black kid at the private school I got a scholarship for and had to read Acknowledgement of Country every assembly. At 12 years old, I felt pressured to decide what I wanted to do with my life while making sure I dealt with my cultur al burden. I led activism at my school to stop fracking and coal mining and I educated people in my classes on Indigenous issues and rights and “Australia Day”. I was grateful I had other people of colour in my year level to bond with. And I was grateful that the white people at my school listened and learnt from me. But nonetheless, I still had to educate. I lost my passion for activism after high school. It was so draining.

In all my classes and Indigenous networking events, and yarn circles, all I learnt and experienced was Aboriginal culture. I’m not Aboriginal. At the time I felt like I knew more about Aboriginal culture than my own.

Again, I am a proud Torres Strait Islander. At 14, I decided I wanted to study marine biology to protect the environment. I had such a strong connection with the land and waters. I wanted to use it. At 19, I had my quarter-life crisis. Who was I? I asked myself everyday. I switched to study psychology. First thing I heard from my sister after deciding was, “and what are you going to do to help your people? You need to do this and that and …..”

I want to help my people. But don’t put this pressure on me when I can’t even help myself.

I am Torres Strait Islander, and Australian and Russian and Pacific Islander and Filipino and Chinese. I matched with a guy on Hinge and when I told him, he said, “You were so hard to guess, I couldn’t tell until you told me but it makes sense now.” He meant well, or maybe not. But comments like these really affect me. No one can guess my ethnicity, hence why I am the most racially ambiguous person that friend of mine knows.

I always felt misunderstood throughout my life. Maybe it’s not because others don’t understand me, but more so because I don’t understand myself. I am lost, trying to figure out who I am in a world where I am expected to know.

Who am I though? Within me is the little girl who would always catch the biggest snapper, get mad when mum would let the men stay out fishing while I had to go home (I was 5), stick my head out of the side of the boat trying to find crocodiles in the water, run around barefoot in the mud while my mum yells “put some shoes on you’re gonna get melioidosis!!!”, know the weather by smelling the air, play with the geckos on the wall, scream at the sight of a cane toad, try to put all the mud crabs caught from the day on my dinner plate, and run around in the rain with pure joy.

This is me at heart and sometimes I forget that. I forget what it means to be me. 5-year-old me was a happy little kid who lived with the earth, air and water and loved mother nature. I loved mother nature and mother nature loved me. Her ways taught me to love, cherish, nurture, and feel.

17-year-old me got so caught up in the expectations placed on myself. I never felt black enough and that’s why I lost my way. But I know who I am now. I love my culture and family and my heart feels so full when surrounded by other black people who uplift me and remind me of my roots. Society is not kind to blackfullas, but all we need are others who will love and care for us and help us remember who we are.