Name: Gavin Ritchie

Age: 45

Lives: Sydney

Turning point: My parents separating when I was 10 months old

After housing costs has to live on: $306 a week

I’m going to miss the opportunity writing these articles has given me. As an Aboriginal man I’ve always felt that not many are interested in what I have to say or do. I’ve never really felt validated by broader society. Through this process I have learned that people are listening. So now I am going to talk straight.

When I was a small child I never heard anything positive about being Aboriginal and I also didn’t realise that it related to me. I always knew who my father was but I didn’t understand that I was black until I started school. In infant school I would run home in tears because some older kids were calling me abo, nigger or coon. I didn’t understand. My mother would take me back to school and it always felt like I had done something really wrong. The principal would say to my mother that I had to stop running away and my mother would tell her that she wanted the racist taunts to stop. It was at this point I realised that being me was an issue. Having a black father meant I was black too. I was the only Aboriginal in my entire school.

As I grew I encountered other Aboriginal children who told me I was just like them and I had to choose a side. All I knew was I am a person. I realised there were “sides”. This became much more pronounced in high school. The battle lines were drawn and I felt compelled to participate in something I personally did not comprehend. My blood was both white and black. Where did I fit in the whole scheme of things? I got the impression that fence-sitting would not be acceptable. I felt myself being forced to choose and I didn’t think that was fair. As I learned the history of Australia and encountered more racism, my morals took over and chose a team.

I was in year 10 when two classmates asked me why I try and pass myself as a white Australian. This cut deep and it took me a few hours to respond. I went to one of the two and told her I didn’t want to deny my Aboriginality. It gave me something they had. I belonged. I thought that was the end of that issue. Little did I know that it was going to be a lifelong struggle.

As a young adult I moved to the city and immersed myself in my culture and studied dance at Naisda – Australia’s premier Indigenous training college for performers. I had dreams of being the best contemporary dancer ever. The cultural content at this college broadened my understanding of self and bolstered my stance. While I had a perspective, I was repulsed by the whole black versus white thing and viewed my view as human. That’s what I am, right?

I started to engage in discussions about Indigenous rights on a national and international level and found myself being stonewalled at every opportunity because people shut down, they don’t want to listen. It was like talking to a brick wall.

Why? I can only imagine that the reason is that the truth doesn’t paint a rosy picture of the “dominant race”. Anglo-Saxon Australians have lied to themselves for so long, they believe their lies. As I have Anglo-Saxon blood running through my veins, it would be easy to toe the line.

I have told people that while I am mixed race I am one human and that human is quite clear in his opinion. He sees everything that has happened in Australia since 1788 as immoral and unconscionable from a human perspective. I just feel like we’ve been ripped off and that no one seems to accept responsibility, and I’ve always felt like I’ve been fighting a battle as opposed to living a life.

A friend from Melbourne said to me once that what happened in Australia is a crime against humanity. Initially I was a bit unsure but after much consideration I am inclined to agree. However it is only through this crime I came to be, and it’s a personal conflict of interests if I view myself as a person made of two distinct parts.

Fortunately I see myself as one whole person with one conscience. That conscience is all about fair versus unfair and it tells me what is right. My conscience has no race.

You can read Gavin Ritchie’s other Life on the breadline stories here