… 1972 had been an extremely traumatic year. Separated from my children, I was often in despair. When meetings closed, usually in the early hours of the morning, I was left alone to cry myself to sleep: no future, no place to go. Too ‘working-class’ proud to ask for charity, I fed the baby sugar-water while humourously describing my latest battle with welfare. During the first nine weeks I received only two $10.00 food vouchers. Few women at the meetings noticed. I understand, but still resent, the pressures put on me to ‘move on’. Three or four weeks is insufficient time for a woman in crisis to get back on her feet.
Tag: International Year of the Woman (IWY)
For My People – Part 1
One of my earliest memories of her was when I was quite young, at a time when so-called ‘half-caste’ children were taken away from Aboriginal families. Some gudia came to the house. They were wanting to take me. My grandmother wouldn’t let them and chased them out of the yard. That is a powerful memory of a strong Black woman.