In April 2019, Shannan Dodson, Yawuru woman and Communication Manager for UTS’s Office of the Pro-Vice-Chancellor (Indigenous Leadership and Engagement) addressed the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues in New York. In this extended version of her speech, Shannan lifts the veil on the epidemic facing her people, and the intergenerational trauma they experience.
Shannan Dodson. Photo by Sissy Reyes.
Ngaji gurrijin. Ngayu nilawal Shannan Dodson. Ngayu Yawuru jarndu.
Hello, how are you all? My name is Shannan Dodson. I am a Yawuru woman.
Being Aboriginal is more than the colour of your skin or the blood that runs through your veins. It’s about our culture, our traditions, our connection to Country and community, our ancestors and the long history that creates collective but diverse identities.
But, I have to speak the reality. Purely because of the colour of my fair skin, I have lived a much more privileged life than my Dad and my extended family.
I have not experienced the type of racism my darker-skinned family members have. At times, non-Indigenous people have felt the freedom and comfort to be openly racist because they think I’ll be a comrade in their hate. I get an insight into the real thought processes that underpin this country.
But I grew up feeling the shame other people made me feel for being Aboriginal; and hating myself, because people constantly convinced me that I should.
A nation built on racism
We need to face up to the fact that this nation has been built on racism; it has been built around Indigenous people being seen as inferior.
My mob, the Yawuru people from Rubibi (Broome), were often brutally dislocated from our lands, and stripped of our livelihood. Our culture was desecrated and we were used for slave labour.
Photo by Sissy Reyes.
Family history
My great-grandmother was taken from her father when she was very young and placed in a mission in Western Australia. As a result, my grandmother and aunties all finished up in the same mission. And, two of those aunties spent a considerable time in an orphanage in Broome, despite the fact they were not orphans.
In 1907, a telegram from Broome station was sent to Henry Prinsep, the 'Chief Protector of Aborigines for Western Australia’ in Perth. It read: "Send cask arsenic exterminate aborigines letter will follow." This gives a glimpse into the thinking of the time which of course played out in traumatic and dehumanising ways.
Both my family and community have experienced premature deaths from suicide, preventable health issues, grief and inextricable trauma that has been inflicted on them.
In the late 1940s, a magistrate in the court of Broome refused my great-grandmother's application for a certificate of citizenship (in her own country) under the Native Citizen Rights Act of Western Australia. Part of his reason was that she had not adopted the manner and habits of civilised life. Meaning she had not given up her language, culture and traditions and assimilated into a ‘white’ way of living.
Later, my Anglo grandfather was imprisoned for breaching the Native Administration Act of Western Australia, in that he was cohabiting with my grandmother. He was jailed for loving my jamuny (grandmother/father’s mother).
My Dad lost his parents when he was 10 years old. My grandfather died in tragic circumstances first, and then my grandmother, in tragic circumstances, soon after.
As a result, my Dad was collected by family in Katherine and taken to Darwin. They too had been former mission victims and knew the ways of the Native Welfare authorities. I suspect they were protecting my Dad from that same fate. Unlike many Indigenous families, though, he was permitted to stay with them and became a State child in the care of our family.
Throughout our history, my family has suffered from ongoing systemic racism. Both my family and community have experienced premature deaths from suicide, preventable health issues, grief and inextricable trauma that has been inflicted on them.
If the Kimberley was a country it would have the worst suicide rate in the world.
Research has now shown that racism impacts Aboriginal people in the same way as other traumatic events. For example, it’s been reported in the 10 years since the Northern Territory Intervention, the average birth weight of an Indigenous child has decreased overall by 600 grams, why is this? We know that US research has shown that racism has a disruptive impact on basic brain stem development in-utero – so is this why our babies are being born at smaller weights?
Photo by Sissy Reyes.
What does intergenerational trauma mean?
Australians Together, a not-for-profit aimed at improving outcomes for Indigenous Australians, classifies trauma as a “person’s response to a major catastrophic event that's so overwhelming it leaves that person unable to come to terms with it. In some cases, trauma is passed down from the first generation of survivors, who directly experienced or witnessed the traumatic events, to future generations. This is referred to as intergenerational trauma, and can be passed on through parenting practices, behavioural problems, violence, harmful substance abuse and mental health issues.”
These social issues are the symptoms, not the cause. The trauma our community faces is why Indigenous people are facing crisis-level suicide rates.
It’s unacceptable, and a national disgrace, that there have been more than 60 suicides of Indigenous people so far this year. Three were children aged only 12 years old. The Kimberley region – where my mob are from – has the highest rate of suicide in the country. If the Kimberley was a country it would have the worst suicide rate in the world.
A recent inquiry by Western Australia's coroner said that 13 suicides investigated in the Kimberley had been shaped by "the crushing effects of intergenerational trauma".
Indigenous suicide is different. Suicide is a complex issue, there is not one cause, reason, trigger or risk – it can be a web of many indicators. With Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, intergenerational trauma and the flow-on effects of colonisation, dispossession, genocide, cultural destruction and the Stolen Generations are paramount to understanding high Indigenous suicide rates.
I have struggled with depression and anxiety for as long as I can remember. I’m 32 years old and only this year did I have the first psychologist ever ask me about my family history and acknowledge the intergenerational trauma that runs through Indigenous families.
A heavy burden to carry
Like many others, I have thought about taking my own life. There were a myriad of factors that led to that point, and a number of factors that led to me not following through. But one of the factors was the immense weight of intergenerational trauma that I believe is embedded into my heart, mind and soul which at times feels too heavy a burden to carry.
And I’m not alone. I’m sure every single Indigenous person in this country is experiencing intergenerational trauma.
LEARN MORE: Listen to an excerpt of Shannan’s UN speech or to learn more about the continuing removal of Indigenous children from their families watch the trailer to UTS Professor Larissa Behrendt’s film, After the Apology.
When you think about the fact that most Indigenous families have been affected, in one or more generations, by the forcible removal of one or more children, that speaks volumes about the trauma we’re all carrying. And our children are still being removed from their families by Government authorities at rates much higher than at the time of the Stolen Generations policy. The institutionalisation of our mob has had dire consequences to our sense of being, our mental health and connection to family and culture.
For these reasons, the high rates of poor physical health, mental health problems, addiction, incarceration, domestic violence, self-harm and suicide in Indigenous communities are directly linked to experiences of trauma. These issues have resulted from both historical trauma and more recent instances of trauma which together have led to a vicious cycle in Indigenous communities. Just think about that for a moment. If every Indigenous family has been affected by this, of course the trauma is transmitted down through generations. The absence of a loved one manifests itself in many ways – disruptive family functioning, challenged parenting skills or parents experiencing physical and mental illness, children who have weakened attachment relationships with caregivers, and general disconnection from extended family members, culture and society.
Our families have been stripped of the coping mechanisms that all people need to thrive and survive. And while Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are resilient, we are also human.
Breaking the cycle
But we can break this cycle of trauma. We need culturally safe Indigenous-designed suicide prevention programs to de-stigmatise conversations around mental health. My hope is that by sharing my own experiences of dealing with this complex subject, other people will be able to see that intergenerational trauma affects all of our mob. The more we identify and acknowledge it; the stronger we’ll be. Together.