Colonisation Is The Forgotten Culprit In Gendered Violence

Last week, the mounting death toll of Australian women allegedly murdered by men sparked tens of thousands of people to gather and protest male violence against women. This epidemic is a critical conversation that must be had, but we need to make sure that Aboriginal women are not left behind.

Living as a Bundjalung dubay and Worimi galbaan (woman), it never escapes me how gendered and racial violence, and the steps I am told to take to mitigate this violence, are a constant part of my life. 

Since I was a child, my parents were hyper-aware of how we might be perceived by the majority non-Indigenous community we lived in. Their fear, which was not unfounded due to the overwhelming rates of Aboriginal child removal, was that it only takes one well-meaning person to call for a “welfare check” to have the government knock on our door and decide to separate us. 

This looming fear led to a set of considerations we had to take as children: make sure you only wear tidy clothes, make sure your shoes don’t look old, be careful about what you say, always comb your hair before you leave the house — the list goes on. What this communicated to me as a child was that my behaviour and my appearance are tools to avoid unwanted attention and intervention. 

It’s easy to see how this “logic” continued to inform my interaction with the world as a girl and a young woman. The safety rules list got longer: don’t walk alone at night, don’t go to the same places at the same times, don’t argue with a racist if you’re alone, don’t argue with a racist if you think you can’t take them in a fight, try to not look nervous around a cop, work on how hard you can swing a punch, never post pictures from the suburb where you live on social media, don’t wear the Aboriginal flag if you’re alone at night or commuting, don’t get drunk, don’t wear revealing clothes, it goes on. 

Existing as an Aboriginal person, and as a woman, I was taught again and again that the way I acted and the way I looked was my responsibility to repel unwanted attention and violence — from the state, from cops, from racists and from men. 

I don’t blame my parents for trying to give me tools to avoid violence in my life, even if the onus should be on men to not hurt me and on systems to enforce that expectation, because their fear of their Aboriginal daughter being harmed is not unfounded.

Recent homicide statistics reveal an overrepresentation of First Nations people. In Australia, we account for 20% of all homicide victims and First Nations women are seven times more likely to be killed than non-First Nations women. First Nations women are also three times more likely to experience violence in general, 32 times more likely to be hospitalised from family violence. The perpetrators of this violence are largely men, from different cultural backgrounds.  

The big takeaway: violence against women is not an issue particular to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, but it is particularly impacting our communities. Like the broad issue of male violence, the causes and the solutions are not cut and dry, but addressing the violence against First Nations women requires specific considerations. 

Violence against First Nations women cannot be addressed without first understanding colonisation. This isn’t just a historical issue but a framework of analysis, since colonisation is not a singular event but an ongoing process. There is an unbroken line from invasion, displacement, massacres, Frontier Wars, generations of discriminatory policy in all areas of life, rampant racism and the destruction of Country, to the trauma in our communities. 

Ongoing colonisation is also responsible for why institutions fail to protect First Nations women. Structures in Australia like our governments, the police and courts could not have existed without first interfering with our sovereignty through attempted genocide, refusing self-determination and imposing non-Indigenous systems. 

Racist attitudes, ideas, narratives and stereotypes about First Nations people are then used to socially justify the continued existence of these systems. It’s easier to blame First Nations people as “innately violent” than to recognise the level of systemic change needed to address the causes of violence. In many ways, condoning violence against First Nations people is foundational for justifying the continued existence of Australia as we know it. 

The combined impact of deep racism and sexism becomes overtly apparent when First Nations women or their loved ones attempt to report violence. In Australia, there is already a concerning level of mistrust amongst Australians when women of any background report violence, with a considerable obsession over “genuine victims'' and determining the perceived reliability of victim-survivors. 

This uniquely impacts First Nations women through racial stereotypes like “walkabout”, which is the idea that First Nations people are transient, unpredictable and difficult to locate. It has been reported that police sometimes don’t act on reports of missing First Nations women because police assume they have “gone walkabout” and are not worth investigating. 

Social perceptions of who is considered to be a “genuine victim” also impacts First Nations women, who risk being misidentified as the perpetrator and being arrested by police. Reporting family violence also often requires mandatory reporting to child protection services, which places First Nation families under the surveillance of the state and at increased risk of child removal with low rates of family reunification. 

This is why the research of Aboriginal academics like Dr Marlene Longbottom and Professor Marcia Langton AO consistently point to the need for culturally informed services because the police are not safe. We need culturally safe support for First Nations men and women, led and informed by First Nations communities. Measures to address male violence must not hyperfixate on continued surveillance and criminalisation of First Nations people, but also address social factors like housing and mental health.

Above all else, we must continue to reposition who holds the obligation to prevent violence. Despite the messages I’ve received all my life, I know that I shouldn't have to look or behave a certain way to deserve safety. I deserve to be safe as an Aboriginal person on my own land. I also deserve to be safe as a woman moving and existing through this world. I will constantly return the scope of analysis to systems of power, held by settlers and by men. 

These systems harm us all. They keep us all trapped in relationships of harm and subjugation. I know that solutions First Nations communities create will model systems of care that can benefit everyone — we just need to be believed when we say the system is not right, and be supported in the change we want to make in our communities.