Politics

Aboriginal First, Woman Second – Part 1

In 1972 I was eighteen years old, pregnant, and living in a housing commission flat in Sydney with my mother. Before becoming pregnant I worked as an office girl for Willow Ware kitchen suppliers. I had not heard of the women’s movement. My knowledge of it as a force came some years later.

I was raised the youngest of fifteen children and was told I was as good as anyone else and usually better. I am more assertive than other members of my family and it is probably true that a certain aggressive consciousness of identity tolerated in my time was not tolerated earlier. I profited from the time I was born into. And these days young Aborigines are much more aware, a welcome sign.

During 1973-75 I lived in a de facto relationship in Sydney, then decided to move to Wagga Wagga to improve my lifestyle and that of my child, particularly our housing. I also wanted to escape what had become an increasingly violent relationship. The move was the beginning of a whole new existence for me. At this time my only income was the supporting mother’s benefit. Then I was fortunate to get the health worker’s position at Griffith in New South Wales. The job was with the Health Commission and I worked with the local Aborigines and those living in the outer-lying areas. Working with my own people gave me a sense of well-being and fulfilment I had not previously experienced. I gained insight into the problems of Aboriginal people, and being  involved in helping meant I enjoyed the work tremendously, despite constant exposure to deprivation and inhuman conditions. I felt I was doing something real to help.

You can understand the local black community of Griffith being a little upset that a black from Wagga (some 150km away) should be selected a health worker in their area. This problem was quickly overcome. My name was a great help: Williams can be an advantage (and sometimes not) in Aboriginal communities from the Northern Territory to Western Australia. I had some hassles with the white office staff, but was sure to let them know I considered myself the expert and would not allow them to make me a puppet. My attitude made the blacks proud.

The community I worked in suffered beyond human endurance, subjected to all that is preventable. Health problems were, and remain, many. Heart disease, liver disorders, middle ear infection, malnutrition, alcoholism. Overcrowding in the ten small cottages well below standard was as high as twenty-five to one house – a conservative figure. The women were obviously the stronger of the two sexes. The families were kept together with the best know-how possible on the women’s part, but to see the hardship was saddening and frustrating.

I was humbled on many occasions. One man in particular, an alcoholic, would always send for me when he needed to get to hospital. He wouldn’t go for anyone else. It didn’t matter how drunk or how sick, where he was, or what time. He knew I’d make sure he got the right treatment – by that I mean treated like a human being as well as having his physical needs taken care of. Each time he recovered, he would bring me something to say ‘thank you’ and tell me there should be more like me. He died. So too did others, young and old. Deaths upset me and made me angry, especially when small efforts could have saved life …

Then, in 1980, I decided to marry. I had to resign and move to anberra with my husband. He, bless him, is not only white but a welfare officer. Among many Aborigines this automatuically gives him an approval rating of about three, on a scale of one to ten. Never mind. We are quite happy and have a lovely black (well, almost) baby.

Living in Queanbeyan, near Canberra, in that year a group of us set out to show a different side to young blacks. Always we’ve been promoted on postcards, tea-towels or coasters standing on one leg leaning on a spear and (not forgetting) with a kangaroo. While holding our culture in high regard, we are tired of being seen only in that way. We set out to show just how beautiful black can be, organising a black modelling show. The women’s movement didn’t grant full support, the reasons probably being cosmetic beauty is not desirable if you are a woman. (A little like not wearing a bra to prove a point and sufferig the physical pain of being a little too large.) Our aim was to show we are able to achieve in any field. We taught basic modelling and staged a fashion parade with an audience of 700 at a local shopping centre. It was a proud moment. All our models looked superb and carried off the show with great style. Although it didn’t go on to bigger things, we proved a point. And we aren’t ready yet for the world of big fashion. It’s hard at this stage to worry too much about the clothing that makes the body look extra good, when it’s difficult to feed the body to be healthy.

It’s one thing to get a job in an Aboriginal organisation, but it can be daunting for an Aboriginal to apply for a job in an all-white organisation, in competition with able white applicants When I applied for the position of co-ordinator with the Queanbeyan City Council family daycare programme I was unsure of myself. The post had never been held by a black. But the council showed their good sense in selecting me. Working with the programme, apart from the commitment I have to everyday questions and the direction of activities, I believe this appointment will stand me in good stead when I return to an Aboriginal organisation, which I intend to do eventually: my life should be there, doing what I can.

During my time as co-ordinator I’ve taken on another role, becoming something of an Aboriginal liaison person: Aborigines come to me for help and advice, and I can help through what I have learnt of the system …

In December 1981 I was appointed by the Minister for Health as director on the Queanbeyan Hospital Board. My experience in community work and being Aboriginal helped. The following year, in December, I was nominated as chairperson by two other women directors, and was elected by majority. I had no idea of the flack in store for me. My election upset a few people – some on the board. At that December meeting the tensionwas high. I was stunned. This was the first time I had experienced such strong feelings against me. I asked the chief executive officer to continue chairing the remainder of the meeting.

Elizabeth Williams (c) 1987

Elizabeth Williams was born in Cobram, Victoria, in November 1954. In 1980 she was appointed to the Queanbeyan Hospital Board By the New South Wales Minister for Health, and in 1982 was elected chairperson of the board. At the time of writing, she worked as a health care worker and director of family daycare with the Queanbeyan City Council in New South Wales.

This is an extract from ‘Aboriginal First, Woman Second’ in Different Lives – Reflections on the Women’s Movement and Visions of its Future, Penguin Books, Melbourne, Australia, 1987 (Jocelynne A. Scutt, ed.).

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