I've never been the biggest follower of days like Mother's/Father's Day, I personally think they’re a commercial ploy to get us spending our walung, and days like Valentine’s Day are a reminder that I may die alone.
Acknowledging also that they can be fairly isolating experiences for those who don’t have mothers or fathers, or have complicated relationships with them.
This is especially important to recognise when you consider the legacy of assimilation policies and early colonial tactics that were very purposely and precisely designed to eradicate the Blak family and kinship systems that have shaped our family make up today.
Forced removal, dislocation from culture, and the trauma that comes with it continue to be a source of family breakdowns today.
And more often than not, it’s Mum who is left to wade through the despair, anger and hopelessness, to pick up the pieces and soldier on.
The first thing I think of when I think about Blak Mums is staunch (and beautiful) – the type of staunchness that teaches you to never take a step back, protect and advocate for your mob, that no one's good enough for you and to make a fuss and send back the coffee that you didn't ask for.
It’s important to clarify that for mob, it’s not just our birth mothers who play pivotal roles in our lives, it’s our aunties and our sisters as well. Shout out.
When we are fighting with the world and with ourselves, you nurture us, even when sometimes we don’t deserve it.
Through knowing when we're hurting and cooking up some chicken curry, teaching us what compromise means, to giving us a blast when we've mucked up.
For many mob groups across Australia, including mine (Wiradjuri in Griffith NSW), we are matriarchal societies – meaning that in our kinship systems, the role and voice of women are central to our direction and decision-making.
So you’ve been doing it for millennia Mum and for that, I thank you.
You are staunch, nurturing, resilient like Nan Bev, Nan Dolce, Nan Cotton, Nan Lydia and we carry that with us.
