Westerly
Defective
Was he failing the test? Was I failing the test? At the second session he spoke to her about 'fightin feelins', but also, thank god, about 'jokin feelins'. She said he was a happy, healthy, developmentally normal child.
Some years later, when he was seven or eight years old, I discovered a note on his desk, on a scrap of paper, in his childish handwriting: I hate myself – I never get surprise playdates – I’m always ashamed – that’s all.
Note: Annabel Smith’s reflection on writing this essay, 'Reflective | Defective', is the perfect complementary read.
Lessons in the Domestic Arts: A Sampler
(Note on access: download the pdf and scroll to page 37.)
My mum and aunties can make something lovely out of almost anything it seems. Except relationships, perhaps: of the six Robertson children, there will be five divorces. Sometimes no end of craft or skill can turn around a project based on ill-matched materials.
As they sat and knitted and sewed and talked, shared tales of absent or abusive husbands, money denied, happiness on hold; as they wove their particular sad story, I wonder: did they realise all along they were reading off the same pattern?
Born Free, Created Poor: Coming of Age in Ethiopia
(Note on access: download the pdf and scroll to page 58.)
When I left Ethiopia to come to Australia, I was not destitute. I was a well-educated director of a respected NGO. Yet the label 'Ethiopian' made me poor in the eyes of almost every Australian I ever met.
Billie and Forrest
(Note on access: download the pdf for the special issue 'Ancestors’ Words'. Then scroll to page 18.)
I have to bring under your notice with extreme regret the medical treatment Aboriginals receive in this town. On June the 28th one named Billy Kickett…a fine specimen of health and strength, was taken ill. His companions sent for the doctor to go and see him. The doctor gave them a bottle of mixture instead. The poor fellow grew worse and died yesterday, as it were, like a dog, no medical assistance.