'Living on Stolen Land' by Ambelin Kwaymullina

Received from the Publisher 

From the BLURB: 

Living on Stolen Land is a prose-styled look at our colonial-settler ‘present’. This book is the first of its kind to address and educate a broad audience about the colonial contextual history of Australia, in a highly original way. It pulls apart the myths at the heart of our nationhood, and challenges Australia to come to terms with its own past and its place within and on ‘Indigenous Countries’.

This title speaks to many First Nations’ truths; stolen lands, sovereignties, time, decolonisation, First Nations perspectives, systemic bias and other constructs that inform our present discussions and ever-expanding understanding. This title is a timely, thought-provoking and accessible read.

There is no part of this place
that was not
is not
cared for
loved
by an Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander nation

I’m going to say this is one of the most important books to seek out, own, and learn from in 2020 - and will go down as an instant classic, a staple of every library and classroom forevermore.

Somebody in #LoveOzYA community was recently asking if any non-fiction books exist about the history of systemic racism in Australia and the realities of being a settler-colony where sovereignty was never ceded ... 'Living On Stolen Land' isn’t non-fiction, it’s prose-style but *everything* is covered within. It's lyrical truth.

The poetry style has you absorbing blows of that truth not *easily* but in a way that really does imprint. And the blurb does proclaim its uniqueness (long-overdueness?) for the Australian landscape. I’ve long been a huge fan of Ambelin’s, and everything that’s in this book are ideas in the pages of her Aussie-YA too; but here they’re stark and laid bare. You can’t look away - her words bite and bare down and this is an essential book for *everyone* to read, not least because I can’t even begin to imagine how emotionally taxing it would have been to write and share. Wow. 

I encourage you to buy this book now, to be part of the conversation that is sure to spring ...

There are no trees
rivers
hills
stars
that were not
are not
someone’s kin

5/5

Book available from July 1 

Reflecting on Indigenous superheroes, Indigenous Futurisms and the future of diversity in literature - guest post by Ambelin Kwaymullina

Reflecting on Indigenous superheroes, Indigenous Futurisms and the future of diversity in literature

I cannot count the number of time I’ve been told it’s unusual to be an Indigenous speculative fiction writer who tells a story about an Indigenous superhero. But Indigenous superheroes are nothing new – at least, not to Indigenous peoples. We have always had stories of the Ancestor heroes, and through the long violence of colonialism, we’ve had other heroes too. These heroes include the resistance fighters of the frontier period; the undercover operatives of the protection era where intense government surveillance required Indigenous peoples to engage in a thousand hidden acts of defiance; and the child heroes who survived being members of the Stolen Generations.  In Australia and elsewhere, Indigenous peoples have also long been able to interact with the world in ways that the West might label as ‘magic’, but this is because the West often defines the real (and hence the possible) differently to the Indigenous cultures of the earth. There are many aspects of Indigenous realities that might be called ‘speculative’ by the West (such as communicating with animals and time travel). There is also much in Western literature that Indigenous peoples regard as fantasy even though it is labeled as fact, including the numerous negative stereotypes and denigrations of Indigenous peoples and culture contained within settler literature. In this context, speculative fiction has told many a colonial tale whereby Indigenous peoples become the ‘primitive’ populations of alien worlds, overcome by the equivalent of the colonial nation-states enacting their so-called manifest destiny across the stars. Spec fic has also told yet more iterations of the ‘white saviour story’ whereby it is only a white hero (and never an Indigenous one) who can ‘save’ the Indigenous peoples from their terrible plight (a plight that was itself created by white invaders). And it is a genre which has continuously engaged in the appropriation of Indigenous and other non-Western cultures, thereby causing much distress to the marginalised peoples of the earth.

But there is a growing Indigenous presence in speculative fiction. Indigenous Australian Young Adult and Children’s writers who write spec fic include myself, Teagan Chilcott, Tristan Michael Savage, graphic novelist Brenton McKenna, and the group of young Aboriginal people responsible for the NEOMAD comics. In the US, Anishinaabe academic Grace Dillon has coined the term ‘Indigenous Futurisms’ to describe a form of storytelling whereby Indigenous peoples use the speculative fiction genre to challenge colonialism and envision Indigenous futures. Since Indigenous cultures (and peoples) have long been relegated to the past in the mythos of colonial settler states, the very act of imagining Indigenous futures is one of resistance. There is therefore a degree to which being an Indigenous spec fic writer is to be part of what might be called, in Star Wars parlance, a ‘rebel alliance’, and it is an alliance that fights – of course – against the forces of Empire.  

Indigenous superheroes are nothing new. Nor are Indigenous stories. But since colonisation began, our voices have been silenced and our knowledges and cultures appropriated. So what is new are the existence of spaces where Indigenous peoples can tell and control our own stories.  This is not to say the battle to protect our cultural expressions is over. It most definitely is not, and here in Australia, we don’t yet have what could well be the single most effective measure of protection – a National Indigenous Cultural Authority. But there is a greater awareness of the need to deal respectfully and ethically with Indigenous peoples than once there was. There is also an ever-growing cyber-space presence of many diverse voices who are challenging misrepresentations and drawing attention to the need to read the authors who are writing to their own worlds. In 2015, spec fic author Corinne Duyvis – a writer with autism and one of the founders of Disability in Kidlit – invented the hashtag #OwnVoices, to promote books with a marginalised protagonist written by someone from the same group. Websites such as Disability in Kidlit and, in an Indigenous context, American Indians in Children’s Literature, provide a source of critiques that interrogate (mis)representations in literature in way that is still generally not done by mainstream reviewers and award judges. So do ally websites such as Reading While White, which is run by a group of White librarians to support the struggles of people of colour and Indigenous peoples in literature. There isn’t an equivalent to these websites in Australia … yet. But questions of authority, legitimacy, appropriateness, privilege and power are increasingly being asked of literature and of the Arts more generally.

The way is gradually opening for Indigenous peoples to speak our truths, whether alone or in equitable partnerships with non-Indigenous peoples. We don’t yet live in a world where all voices have an equal opportunity to be heard, and where all voices are heard equally. But we are on our way to it, and therefore on a journey to the stories that will exist when we do.    

Welcome to the future.  

*** 

Ambelin Kwaymullina is an Aboriginal writer, illustrator and academic who comes from the Palyku people of the Pilbara region of Western Australia. She works at the Law School at the University of Western Australia and is the author of a number of picture books as well as the YA speculative fiction series, The Tribe.  

Indigenous stories and non-Indigenous writers: some reflections on respect and process - guest post by Ambelin Kwaymullina

Indigenous stories and non-Indigenous writers: some reflections on respect and process

I sat down to write this post a while ago; during the course of writing it, author JK Rowling released a story that inappropriately incorporates aspects of the cultures of the Indigenous peoples of North America. I have spent much of the last couple of days listening to Indigenous peoples from across the sea give voice to their distress. So before I begin speaking of process and respect in an Australian context, it seemed only right that I acknowledge those voices, and encourage everyone to read their words.

This is the second of two posts; the first examined myths caused by misdiagnosing a lack of diversity in literature as a diversity problem rather than as a privilege problem. The purpose of this second post is to reflect on a few of the issues surrounding non-Indigenous writers and Indigenous stories in Australia. In the 1980s, Indigenous publisher Magabala Books was established in part because of the retelling of Indigenous narratives by non-Indigenous writers in circumstances where there was no free, prior and informed consent from – or any sharing of copyright or benefits with – the Indigenous knowledge-holders. While it has become less ‘business as usual’ in Australia to see books published in this way, it still happens. I’m sometimes asked what I think about it. My view is that non-Indigenous writers should not be telling cultural narratives unless it is done in equitable partnership with the relevant Indigenous knowledge-holders. And for a partnership to be equitable, I think it requires that royalties and copyright be shared. An example of such a collaboration is the one between non-Indigenous historian Howard Pederson and Bunuba man Banjo Woorunmurra for the book Jandamarra and the Bunuba Resistance (copyright and royalties are shared between Howard Pederson and the Bunuba people). Further, there are some stories where copyright should remain entirely with the Indigenous person or people. Whether this is the case is something for the relevant Indigenous person or community to determine – but that decision has to be made free from pressure; prior to a project commencing: and on an informed basis. For example, the copyright in Woman from No Where – the biography of the late Hazel McKeller – is held by Hazel (and now her heir). Non-Indigenous academic Kerry McCallum, who worked with Hazel on the book, has her contribution credited on the cover. The process for writing this book is discussed in More than Words – Writing, Indigenous culture and copyright in Australia (a paper written by Murri lawyer Terri Janke).

Another topic I’ve been asked about is the use of Indigenous advisors or beta readers. To begin with, I think the Indigenous person should be paid at a rate that acknowledges the value of their time and expertise. The expectations (on both sides) and boundaries of the relationship also need to be clearly established from the beginning of the process. In the United States, there have been instances where the advice of expert readers was ignored or used selectively. And there is a larger consideration here, which is this: when does an Indigenous advisor or beta reader become a co-author? When do they become such an influence on the story that their contribution should be acknowledged through a share in the copyright and royalties? This is especially the case where the Indigenous input relates to culture, because the incorporation of Indigenous culture into books by non-Indigenous writers is fraught with cultural appropriation issues. The massive imbalance of power between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples precludes any notion of cultural exchange (which requires equality), and the vulnerable position of Indigenous peoples is exacerbated by the lack of protection for Indigenous knowledge and cultural expressions under Western intellectual property laws.

I’ve sometimes been told by writers that their inappropriate use of Indigenous material is justified on the basis that it is part of the Western literary tradition to ‘borrow’ stories or cultural elements from elsewhere, to which I reply: But you’re not writing about your culture or traditions. You’re writing about mine – and my culture has rules about when and how stories can be told, and who can tell them. And if non-Indigenous authors are writing about us because they care about Indigenous culture (as many tell me they do), then I think they should respect it enough to know when it is not their place to speak, and what it is not their place to speak about. This is especially so given that Indigenous peoples are among the most marginalised peoples on earth; that our cultures have been subject to sustained efforts to destroy them; that we continue to experience discrimination; and that our living traditions are our lifeblood. Appropriation of Indigenous cultures and stories causes real harm to real people – and we have already been harmed enough.  

We live in the age of the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which affirms the rights of Indigenous peoples to our cultures, heritage and languages (Articles 11, 12 and 13). Extensive past problems with the misuse of (and lack of protection for) Indigenous Cultural and Intellectual Property has resulted in the production of numerous protocols and guidelines, including the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies ethical research guidelines and ethical publishing guidelines, and the Australia Council for the Arts Protocols for producing Indigenous writing.

And yet.

And yet I have talked to non-Indigenous authors who have read all those guidelines and still believe that their use of Indigenous material is acceptable provided they acknowledge the relevant people, with issues of benefits-sharing and ownership being ignored. 

And yet I have talked to publishers who believe that consent to the use of cultural material is purely the responsibility of the non-Indigenous writer, and that the publisher has no obligation to ensure that consent was given on a free, prior and (especially) informed basis.

And yet I am often asked by writers why they can’t do something when they’ve seen another non-Indigenous author do it – and the book they are referring me to is ten, twenty, thirty or forty years old. The world has changed, and what was done in an era where understandings were more limited is not a guide to what should be done now.

We still seem to have a long way to go.

Ambelin Kwaymullina is an Aboriginal writer, illustrator and academic who comes from the Palyku people of the Pilbara region of Western Australia. She works at the Law School at the University of Western Australia and is the author of a number of picture books as well as the YA speculative fiction series, The Tribe.  

Privilege and literature: three myths created by misdiagnosing a lack of Indigenous voices (and other diverse voices) as a ‘diversity problem’ - guest post by Ambelin Kwaymullina

Privilege and literature: three myths created by misdiagnosing a lack of Indigenous voices (and other diverse voices) as a ‘diversity problem’.

There is increasing attention being paid in Australia to the lack of diversity in children’s literature, sparked in part by the We Need Diverse Books movement and the current wide-ranging discussions around diversity in the US. The exclusion of Indigenous and other diverse voices is sometimes misdiagnosed as a ‘diversity problem’. But the origin of a body of literature that fails to reflect the actual make-up of the planet is not to be found within marginalised peoples. The fundamental disconnection between the world of literature and the real world springs from, and is maintained by, a set of structures and attitudes that consistently privilege one set of voices over another. In short, a lack of diversity is not a ‘diversity problem’. It is a privilege problem. In relation to Indigenous writers and writers of colour, it is a white privilege problem – although it is also worth noting that all non-Indigenous peoples who live on Indigenous lands are to some degree privileged in relation to Indigenous peoples, because everyone who came to Australia post-colonisation has gained in some way from the dispossession of those who were here before.

Myth #1: A lack of representation of Indigenous and other marginalised peoples can be solved by writers from outside those groups writing to diverse identities and experiences

Korean American author Ellen Oh (one of the founders of the We Need Diverse Books movement) recently said in an open letter to white writers: “Yes We Need Diverse Books. But that doesn’t always mean that we want YOU to write them. No, it means we want you to support them. We want you to read them. We want you to promote them, talk about them, buy them, love them. We want you to recognize that these stories told by authors in their own voices has as much importance as all the white ones that are published year after year.”

When a lack of representation of Indigenous peoples and people of colour in kid’s lit is misunderstood as a diversity issue, the focus tends to be solely on accuracy of representation (and it is of vital importance that marginalised peoples are accurately portrayed). But in order to begin to address the cause of the lack of diversity (privilege), the question writers need to ask themselves is not simply whether they can accurately portray someone else’s experience, but whether they should be telling the story at all. I’ve previously written that I don’t believe non-Indigenous writers should be writing Indigenous characters from first person or deep third. I’ve also said that I think the worst advice I’ve ever heard about characterisation is that anyone can write to any experience because ‘we are all human’. Indigenous peoples and other marginalised peoples have long had our humanity denied, and that denial continues to be the basis of discrimination against us. To suggest that writers have a right to put themselves in our place is often not to respect our humanity but to further deny it – especially when this is done by those who have inherited the benefits of our marginalisation. Ultimately, I believe that respecting the humanity of others means being willing to engage in a dialogue about the boundaries respect requires, not only as to what and how something can be said, but as to who can say it.

Myth #2: good intentions excuse poor outcomes

Privilege in literature is a systemic issue, and systemic discrimination of any kind can only ever be judged by outcomes, not intentions. An actual individual intent to discriminate is not necessary; discrimination will occur regardless unless the structures that cause it are named, challenged, and dismantled. A defence to poor representation framed in terms of someone’s good intentions can also carry an unspoken assumption that a desire to ‘help’ the marginalised is an act of charity or kindness for which marginalised peoples should be grateful. But I do not believe that I – or anyone else – should ever be grateful for having my dignity respected equally with that of other human beings. First, because equality is a right, and second, because it is a universal good. Genuine support for the struggles of others can only ever flow from a recognition that the denial of anyone’s rights – and the diminishment of anyone’s humanity – denies everyone’s rights, and diminishes everyone’s humanity. This makes a lack of diversity everybody’s loss, and the inclusion of diverse voices everybody’s gain.

Myth #3: all that is needed to solve the ‘diversity problem’ is to ‘raise up’ the marginalised

Diversity conversations sometimes proceed from a deficient analysis whereby the dialogue becomes about the disadvantaged position of the marginalised without acknowledging the cause of that disadvantage (so that, for example, it is Indigenous peoples whose position of ‘deficient’ must be fixed). This is not to say that urgent action should not be undertaken to ameliorate the extreme disadvantage experienced by Indigenous peoples and other marginalised groups. But there will be no real outcomes with changing the structures and attitudes that cause and promulgate the exclusion in the first place.

I know I’m not the only Indigenous writer or writer of colour in Australia to have been told by people within the literary industry that addressing a lack of diversity is ‘too hard’ or that it is ‘not their problem’. But insofar as it is the privileged who sustain, reinforce, and benefit from the structures that are causing the lack of diversity, I think it is their problem. It is also within their power to fix, and not only because they are the ones who create/sustain/benefit from it. But because the level of anyone’s individual power (and therefore anyone’s individual responsibility) can only ever be meaningfully judged by measuring it against those who have less choices than they do, not against those who have more. And judged by that measure, the vast majority of people who work within literature have the power to transform the world.   

I’d like to see them try.

***

Ambelin Kwaymullina is an Aboriginal writer, illustrator and academic who comes from the Palyku people of the Pilbara region of Western Australia. She works at the Law School at the University of Western Australia and is the author of a number of picture books as well as the YA speculative fiction series, The Tribe. 

'The Foretelling Of Georgie Spider' The Tribe #3 by Ambelin Kwaymullina

Received from the Publisher

From the BLURB:

The third and final book in the thrilling eco-dystopian series The Tribe.

A storm was stretching out across futures to swallow everything in nothing, and it was growing larger, which meant it was getting nearer...

Georgie Spider has foretold the end of the world, and the only one who can stop it is Ashala Wolf. But Georgie has also foreseen Ashala's death. As the world shifts around the Tribe, Ashala fights to protect those she loves from old enemies and new threats. And Georgie fights to save Ashala. Georgie Spider can see the future. But can she change it?

‘The Foretelling Of Georgie Spider’ is the third and final instalment in Ambelin Kwaymullina epic YA Aussie dystopian series, ‘The Tribe’.

I have been both dreading and anticipating this book, probably since I first read ‘The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf’ way back in 2012 (OMG!). Because I both didn’t want the series to end, and I also needed to know what happens next … this is the conundrum of any series’ conclusion.

And now I’m on the other side, having closed the final chapter on ‘The Tribe’ and I can say I’m both bereaved and satisfied, languishing in that weird fangirl in-between of being both happy for such a grand finale, and sad that a little fictional universe is now finished for me. And now I’m trying to write a review for ‘The Foretelling Of Georgie Spider’ and I’m struggling to say anything that won’t completely spoil it for everyone else.

So instead I’ll talk about what a gift this entire series has been, and how this final book has rounded it out to a truly superb trilogy that I’ll be re-reading for many years to come, and recommending to everyone.

Y’know, there aren’t many Australian YA books in which our heroine’s warrior cry is: “Let’s go free a detention centre!” And that one line should tell you something about how clever and important an author Kwaymullina is, and what a statement this whole series has been. Read this interview I did with Ambelin back in 2013 (seriously, time – it flies!) to get some ideas of how much this series is a layered science fiction, eco-dystopic saga that also draws on Stolen Generation history and Indigenous mythology, that is all so tied to the Australian natural landscape.

It’s amazing that in one series readers can be confronted with ideas and themes around Australia’s dark history – particularly the oppression of our First Peoples and Indigenous history – and then also be able to connect the sci-fi aspects to global warming and current asylum seeker debates. And that it’s all tied up beautifully in this intense story, about a Tribe of kids who reject the way their world currently is, and truly believe they can change it for the better;

Connor came over to me. He circled his arms around my waist and I leaned back against him with a sigh. 

“Fixing the world, Ashala?” he asked. He was watching Em and Jules too. 

“Fixing our world,” I replied. “Our Tribe. With any luck.” 

Em was still talking, although she seemed to be taking longer breaks between sentences. She’d started to run out of words, and Jules still wasn’t speaking at all. She jabbed at his chest, and I didn’t need to be able to hear her to know what she’d said. Aren’t you going to say something? 

Jules caught her hand and finally spoke. Not much, just a couple of words. I knew what he’d said as well. Forgive me. 

For a second longer they stood where they were, Jules clasping Ember’s hand and Ember staring at Jules. Then Em tore her hand from his so she could take hold of the front of his shirt and pull his head down to hers for a long, deep kiss. 

“World fixed,” Connor said, and I could hear the laughter in his voice. And the regret, for what neither of us had been able to fix.

This final book is a gorgeous crescendo to the whole series – there’s suspense and heartbreak to be sure, but there’s also real enjoyment in looking back through ‘Ashala’ and ‘Ember Crow’ and seeing all the groundwork Kwaymullina has been laying from book #1, and appreciating just how complex this series has always been.

The entire ‘Tribe’ series has been a real gift to this reader, and ‘The Foretelling Of Georgie Spider’ was the sometimes heartbreaking, always thrilling finale I knew it would be. I can’t wait to read whatever Ambelin Kwaymullina comes up with next, I just hope I don’t have to wait too long for it!

5/5

What bloggers, vloggers, and podcasters can do to support Indigenous books - final guest post by Ambelin Kwaymullina

This is the final post in a series I’ve been doing to answer questions I’m often asked about what people can do to support Indigenous books (which is to say books written or co-written by Indigenous people). And I’d like to begin this one with a thank you to bloggers, for two reasons. The first is that I am a YA author and without the blog-o-sphere there would be ludicrously few reviews of YA books in Australia (and virtually none of works by Australian YA writers). The second is that I am conscious of the work that bloggers have already done to draw attention to overlooked books, including those by Indigenous and other diverse writers. But I am going to ask you to do more, for the same reason that you started a book blog in the first place – because you love stories, and there is a whole world out there of Indigenous narratives waiting to be discovered.

1.     Review the books! They’ll be harder to find and you probably won’t get review copies in the mail. Works by Indigenous writers are more likely to be published by smaller and specialist presses which do not have the resources of the larger publishers – so sourcing the narratives might well require a trip to the library, borrowing from a friend or spending your own money (if you have some spare!). As to where you can find books by Indigenous writers, here are some suggestions:

a.     Check out the catalogues of Indigenous publishers (such as Magabala Books, IAD Press and Aboriginal Studies Press). Move on from there to looking at other publishers and discovering what Indigenous authors they have;

b.     Take a look at the Blackwords database on the Austlit site;

c.      Find out what Indigenous writing you can access online for free – for example, the Indigenous edition of Westerly, and Writing Black: New Indigenous Writing from Australia.

2.     Read the books and encourage others to do so – take part in book challenges that focus on Indigenous writers, or make a challenge of your own.

3.     Be conscious of how you review and talk about Indigenous books (and indeed books by other diverse writers). I’ve commented on reviewing Indigenous books in a previous post which can be found here (although I think on the whole bloggers do a pretty good job of judging Indigenous narratives on their own terms and not by preconceived stereotypes of what it is to be Indigenous).

4.     Inform yourself about the challenges that face Indigenous writers and diverse writers more generally. Many of the issues in relation to diversity have been highlighted by the We Need Diverse Books campaign in the US and you could start by reading the posts on their tumblr site. As to the challenges facing Indigenous writers in Australia, refer to author websites and interviews – google the names of Indigenous writers and see what we have to say. And take a look at the AIATSIS Guidelines on Ethical Publishing of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander authors and their communities and the ‘Who Owns Story?’ presentation by Indigenous lawyer Terri Janke.

5.     Be proactive. Give space to Indigenous voices (and other diverse voices). Reach out to publishers and writers and volunteer space for author interviews and guest posts. Beyond that, use social media to raise awareness of Indigenous books and commentary by Indigenous authors. If you see a new release, a review, an author interview – like it, share it, promote it!   

What literary festivals, conferences and events can do to support Indigenous books - guest post by Ambelin Kwaymullina

This is part of a series of posts that answers questions I’m often asked about what can be done to support Indigenous books (by which I mean, books written or co-written by Indigenous people).

1.     Invite Indigenous authors. Ideally, invite more than one (and invite other authors from other diverse backgrounds too). One of the reasons there is a lack of awareness of the sheer range and complexity of the Indigenous experience is that there is rarely more than one Indigenous writer or illustrator present at any given festival or conference. So does your festival represent the reality of a diverse Australia with a rich and ancient Indigenous history and culture?

2.      Is your festival/conference/event a culturally safe space? There are a number of ingredients that go into creating a space where everyone’s identity is acknowledged and respected  – but here are some things to think about:

a.     Have a Welcome to Country and/or acknowledgement of Country – and for the difference between the two, see the Reconciliation Australia factsheet.

b.     Designate a contact person who can provide support if any of your authors experience instances of discrimination at your festival.

c.      Communicate the value your event places on cultural safety to all participants and attendees – and communicate why it matters. The provision of a place where all voices can be heard is not some version of political correctness; it is a matter of basic fairness in which all peoples have an interest, and especially those with an interest in books. Because if you can’t hear the voices, you can’t hear the stories.

d.     Think about your location. One of the legacies of colonial history is that Indigenous experience of colonialism tend to be far less well known that those of non-Indigenous people. This means organisers can sometimes hold events in places that mean they are unlikely to get many Indigenous participants or attendees, because the geographic location is a place of unresolved trauma.

3.     Acknowledge Indigenous peoples as the most expert sources of our own cultures and experiences, just as others from diverse backgrounds are the most expert sources of their own cultures and experiences. Reverse the operation of privilege by giving space to the insider voices and the insider stories – and enrich your program with the stories of those for whom the cultures, histories and ongoing struggles with discrimination are lived realities.  

4.     Establish a dialogue with presenters before the program is finalised. It can be easy for a program organiser to unconsciously make assumptions about what Indigenous stories are, how they should be talked about and what Indigenous people wish to speak to (and the same is true of assumptions about authors from other diverse backgrounds). Are there issues that a presenter would particularly like to address? Is the title and topic of the session or panel culturally appropriate?

5.     Moderators matter. It is no easy task to be the moderator of a panel – and it is a more difficult task when dealing with sensitive issues or cultural histories. Moderators already work hard, but anyone moderating a panel dealing with sensitive issues has to be willing to work even harder to prepare for their session.

What literary journals (and other literary/review publications) can do to support Indigenous books - guest post by Ambelin Kwaymullina

This is part of a series of posts that answers questions I’m often asked about what can be done to support Indigenous books (by which I mean, books written or co-written by Indigenous people).

1.     Review the books! And since Indigenous authors are likely to be published by Indigenous publishers or other small presses who do not have the marketing budgets of larger publishers, this might mean building a relationship with the publisher to keep in touch with upcoming releases. It might also require flexibility with respect to review deadlines, as smaller publishers can find it difficult to meet a deadline for review that requires a copy of the book well before release. Does your publication have any processes in place that are disadvantaging Indigenous publishers or other smaller presses, and if so, what can be done to address those processes? 

2.     Give Indigenous voices a chance to be heard. There have been some outstanding special editions of literary publications comprised entirely of Indigenous contributors, including the Indigenous editions of Westerly and Southerly.   

3.     Shine the spotlight on past releases. There is the most amazingly diverse range of Indigenous voices published in Australia, so why not devote some space to them? Why not review (or write about) multiple publications across the same area, such as the genre-defying picture books that are works of art, philosophy, history and culture (examples include Tjarany Roughtail, Down the Hole, and Maralinga: the Anangu story). Or the incredible Elder narratives (such as Yorro Yorro: Everything Standing Up Alive, Iwenhe Tyerrtye: What it Means to be an Aboriginal person, Listen Deeply, Let These Stories In, My People’s Dreaming, Old Man’s story: The last thoughts of Kakadu Elder Bill Neidjie, Doreen Kartinyeri: My Ngarrindjeri calling – and many others). Or the Indigenous voices in YA (and Magabala Books is leading the way for the number of YA publications by Indigenous authors). Or the winners of the black&write and/or David Unaipon awards.  There is no shortage of published Indigenous narratives, and one of the reasons that there is a lack of awareness of the diversity of Indigenous experiences is that there is a lack of awareness of the diversity of our stories.

4.     Consider how your publication writes about Indigenous books, especially with regard to reviews. Author Malindo Lo, one of the founders of the We Need Diverse Books campaign in the US, has recently written on perceptions of diversity in book reviews. Many of the concerns she highlights are relevant to Indigenous books (including diverse books being characterised as ‘issues’ books). I have previously written of the dangers inherent in judging a book as to cultural ‘authenticity’ or according to preconceived stereotypes as to what it means to be Indigenous. And to these concerns I’d add the following difficulties:

a.     Many people who write about books have considerable expertise in the Western literary canon – but I’d suggest that knowledge of the Western literary canon is likely to be poor preparation for reviewing or writing about Indigenous books, since that canon has largely excluded Indigenous peoples or written of us in ways that are racist, inaccurate or offensive (and the same is true of the representation, or lack of representation, of other diverse peoples in Western literature).

b.     Indigenous storytelling is formed and informed by Indigenous culture. For example – as is discussed by the AIATSIS Guidelines for Ethical Publishing of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Authors and Research from those communities – Indigenous stories will sometimes ‘circle back’ and repeat. The same is true of other non-Western storytelling, but it leaves narratives open to being criticised as repetitive. I’d like to see a more nuanced understanding of the differences in storytelling between cultures, and of the often subversive ways in which non-Western storytellers use Western forms to present our worldviews and experiences.

c.      The ‘one story’ danger, which Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has so ably discussed. Indigenous and other diverse peoples of this earth are more than one story, but when one story is all that is known of us, it distorts perceptions and means all our narratives are in danger of being viewed (and judged) through the lens of the little that is known.   

5.     Give some space to the concerns affecting Indigenous people (and other diverse authors, for that matter). What problems are Indigenous and other diverse authors contending with in an Australian context? And be prepared to listen to what Indigenous and diverse voices are telling you about what the issues are, rather than framing the issue for us. Real conversations – and a true cultural exchange - requires the creation of a space where people can speak to what matters to them, without having to fit those concerns into the ‘box’ defined by the dominant culture.