A Cruel Sense Of Humour

On 30 April, I had a letter to the editor published in the Advertiser. It was in response to an opinion piece Alexander Downer wrote, talking about how people who “booed” during a Welcome to Country ceremony on Anzac Day were rude, but not racist. I had planned to stop being one of those people with an opinion on everything, but I couldn’t just sit back and say nothing in response to what Mr Downer said, which I personally found offensive. Below is a copy of my letter.

In case you were unable to read the words, I’ve pasted them below.

Dear Editor,

In his opinion piece “Left wing activists can learn from rude Anzac Day boos,” Alexander Downer argues that critics are wrong to interpret objections to Welcome to Country ceremonies as racism. While it is true that not all discomfort is rooted in prejudice, his framing reduces these ceremonies to political gestures rather than recognising their deeper purpose.

Welcome to Country is not a lecture or an imposition. It is a simple act of acknowledgment — a recognition that this land has a history that did not begin in 1788. Repetition does not make it intrusive; it makes it normal.

Mr Downer suggests that many Australians reject the language of invasion and national shame. But not everyone feels that way. For many, acknowledging that colonisation brought dispossession and conflict does not mean condemning modern Australia; it is simply an acceptance that the nation’s story is both good and bad at the same time.

Kind regards,

Me

That is the second letter I have recently written in response to Mr Downer’s articles. The first time I wrote, I felt a bit stupid afterwards, like I was trying to suggest I knew more than the former Foreign Minister of the country. This is, of course, ridiculous, as he has a lifetime’s worth of high-level experience in foreign affairs and life itself. But this article he wrote about Welcome to Country ceremonies made me realise that just because he has held high-level positions, and I am just a rank-and-file member of the public, doesn’t mean that he is necessarily right and that I am automatically wrong.

I have a further opinion on this particular article which I won’t put into writing anywhere. I celebrate Welcome to Country ceremonies, and I will continue to celebrate them and welcome any opportunity I am given to learn about Indigenous history and culture. I would say to anybody who doesn’t celebrate them that we should recognise this very special form of acknowledgment as simply the very least we can do in light of our colonial history and the legacy that continues to shape the ongoing racism and inequality experienced by our First Nations peoples.

It is an unfortunate coincidence that my next topic is my Aboriginal deaths in custody project, which involved me writing to all members of the federal parliament asking for their opinion on the issue and whether they believe the federal government is doing enough to reduce Aboriginal deaths in custody. There are 150 members of the House of Representatives and 76 senators, making a total of 226 federal parliamentarians. I actually ended up sending around 300 letters because I sent two letters to ministers — one to their electorate office and one to their ministerial office — consecutively.

It has now been a number of months since I sent those letters, and I have received a total of 11 responses. That is pretty poor indeed. I asked them directly for their personal opinion and, in the majority of cases, I have not received a response. 

Further to the four responses I have already written about, the other people who responded were Senator Larissa Waters, who wrote a one and a half page letter stressing the urgency of the issue of Aboriginal deaths in custody. Then there was Rebecca White, the Assistant Minister for Health and Aged Care, Assistant Minister for Indigenous Health and Assistant Minister for Women, who forwarded my initial letter to the Commonwealth Department of Health and Ageing, and the Director of Partnership and Reforms Section, First Nations Health Division, responded on her behalf.

Penny Wong, Senator for South Australia and Minister for Foreign Affairs, wrote a very brief letter stating that the Government is focused on community led solutions to stop First Nations people coming into contact with the criminal justice system.

Charlotte Walker, also a Senator for South Australia, sent a one page generic type of letter and then Malarndirri McCarthy, Minister for Indigenous Australians, Senator for the Northern Territory and Christmas and Cocos (Keeling) Islands, wrote a one and a half page letter acknowledging it to be a critical issue.

Julian Leeser, Federal Member for Berowra NSW, wrote a detailed letter. This name actually rings a bell to me. I can’t be sure, but I think he was working at the Liberal Party of NSW when I did a temp job there back in 2011. Mr Leeser’s letter talked about how some of the deaths in custody are due to diseases of the circulatory and respiratory systems, such as ischaemic heart disease or cancer. Tragically, others are deaths by suicide.

Finally, my local member for Sturt, Claire Clutterham, wrote back and acknowledged that I had written to other members of parliament. I don’t know how many she knew about, but the acknowledgement was there. She said she had reached out to the Minister for Indigenous Australians to explain to me what the Albanese Government is doing, and I think that was the letter I received from Malarndirri McCarthy. She then went on to share her own personal opinion: that First Nations people dying in custody is unacceptable and that a clear priority of this Government is reducing the incarceration rates of First Nations people.

I have to say I was pretty impressed with Claire. Her office put some time into the response, and she closed the letter by saying, “As your local Member I will continue to advocate on your behalf. I will continue to push for accountability and meaningful progress.” I like a politician who makes you feel listened to and heard, and who is personally passionate about delivering change. I intend to join the Australian Labor Party at some point this year and, when I do, I am going to go and introduce myself to her.

But to the ones who didn’t respond, I am going to write back to them and ask why. I am an epistolary conceptual artist. My instinct tells me that being ignored by almost the entire federal parliament is not the end of this project.

My police check cleared with no disclosable court outcomes and I was notified on Sunday 3 May. It made me feel good that my record was clean and I decided that I really wanted the job, so last week I went ahead and filled in the rest of the onboarding paperwork, ready for me to start this Monday, 11 May.

In the lead up to my first day of work, my mood shifted significantly from my last bleak post, and that’s because everywhere I looked there were flowers — and flowers displayed just as I like them. Below you can see the Mother's Day flower stand out the front of Foodland Norwood. I love flowers in buckets and, as you can see, it’s a big chaotic mess of floral bliss.

For Mother’s Day, I always send Mum flowers, and this year I ordered them from her favourite florist, Blooms. I picked out a beautiful arrangement on their website and assumed they would put the same arrangement together for Mum, but I was very disappointed on Sunday. The colours were the total opposite of what I had ordered, and I was really upset because I pride myself on being able to pick good flowers, but this time I was let down. Mum said she loved them, but I can’t be sure she was telling the truth.

I slept through the morning on Mother’s Day and wasn’t much use to Mum for a while, but by the end of the day I was shocked to discover that my brother hadn’t sent her anything at all. He called her and then sent flowers on Monday, but it was a tiny little bunch in a vase and I don’t understand how he could have sent her something so small.

This isn’t the first time I have seen him send these tiny little things, but why send them at all? If you’re going to send flowers, make it big and make it bold. If you can’t afford flowers, go and pick them from your garden or someone else’s, but in my opinion flowers should only be given if you’re going to do it properly.

You make a statement with the flowers you give, and my brother went to Tynte Flowers for his tiny little arrangement.  They are probably the most well-known florist in Adelaide, and my brother — actually, I will say it was probably his wife — chose the smallest thing they offer. 

On the other hand, I am flat broke and the flowers I sent Mum for Mother’s Day weren’t the biggest I’ve ever sent, but at least they said something. They said: “I literally spent my last penny on you for Mother’s Day.” Below you can see the difference in size between the flowers my brother and I sent.

So now I get to my character defining two days. Mother’s Day, I slept most of the morning. Sunday night I was up all night and starting a new job on the Monday. Before I left the house for the city on Monday morning, I hadn’t slept all night, and I felt like rat shit. I have stayed up all night and then the next day so many times I couldn’t count, but most of that was when I was younger. I am about to turn 45 and I can really feel it.

Monday morning, I was so tired to the point of exhaustion. I was so nervous about the new job and I felt anxious. It was an extremely overwhelming feeling, but I hoped the adrenaline would keep me going. There were 18 other people starting in the call centre on Monday and at 8:30am we were taken up to our training room in the office in the city. It was still so early, but I felt like I was pushing against something. I felt vulnerable, like if I involuntarily fell asleep, I would be completely at the mercy of the other people in the room.

We started with introductions and then there were PowerPoint presentations. During a break, people tried to talk to me and I must have seemed rude, but I could barely speak. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. My eyes felt so heavy — heavier than they had ever felt before. Physically I felt so bad, and all I could focus on was forcing myself to stay awake.

Before lunch, my eyes started closing for a little while longer than they should have every time I blinked. I think the trainer noticed and, in my head, I was thinking I’m just going to have to go and tell her that I can’t do this job and I have to leave.

Then I fantasied about having a brief nap in the back of an Uber while it drove me home to my bed where I could sleep for as long as I wanted. But I pushed through. After lunch we were told we had to walk up the road to another building which was part of the organisation. I thought that this was where my body would shut down completely or I would either die, have a stroke, a heart attack or completely black out. I forced myself to walk down to the other building. I pushed with every single bit of determination I have and forced myself to follow my colleagues and make it to the building, at whatever cost.

I had to stand up for over an hour while we were shown around the other part of the organisation, and I felt like I was having an out of body experience. I somehow made it back to the main office and training room and there wasn’t much time left in the day. I can safely say this was the worst day of my life. I have never felt so physically bad in my entire life. I had a very bad day 13 years ago and I've had days where I have experienced real sleep deprivation before, but those days were nothing compared to this day where I almost lost complete control of my body, and maybe my mind.

I made it to the end of the day but it wasn’t over yet. I had to stay up until 10:00pm and if I didn’t, the same thing would happen the next day because I would wake up early in the morning. So I stayed up and then collapsed into bed. I slept all night and woke up at 6:00am the next morning. I could still feel the exhaustion and effects of the previous day all throughout my body, but other than that I felt surprisingly refreshed. I got up, went to work and had another day of training.

I got home Tuesday night, but my body has a cruel sense of humour and I didn’t sleep the whole night again. The next morning, I felt even worse than I felt on Monday morning and I realised that I would have to quit the job because under no circumstances could I repeat Monday. I simply did not have it in me. I physically could not do it.

So, it wasn’t the criminal conviction that got me in the end, it was my sleep. I called the call centre and told them I had a family emergency the night before, and I have since spoken to them again. I told them I was unable to continue with the training, and they are working out whether they can hold a place for me for the next intake. But the thing is, it’s going to be the same again. I have had this sleep issue for nearly ten years. I have been able to work and study with it, but somehow being a bit older, it is affecting me so much more than it used to.

I feel like, having told the story of how my sleep ruined my employment prospects, it might seem like I am weak or irresponsible to allow this to happen. Maybe the average person could get by allowing their body and mind to be in such a vulnerable state, but for me I’m secretly proud of myself for walking away. I think I have the sheer determination to overcome the physical effects of such deep sleep deprivation, but I also think there is only so much a person can take.