Travel Stories
Is There A Black Diaspora In Australia?
by Celina McEwen
July 2018
Emigrating To Australia
When I arrived in Australia in late September 1993, I only ever came across a few people from the African diaspora. There weren’t that many living in Sydney and even less travelling around Australia for their holidays. I suppose the idea of travelling around the world was not a common aspiration for ‘black’ people then, but also the ‘white Australia policy’ didn’t make Australia very attractive either. In fact, for that reason and because it was (and still is) a country where the first national people were still very poorly treated, my relatives and friends asked me to seriously reconsider moving there.
Settling In Melbourne And Sydney
When I landed in Melbourne, and later settled in Sydney, however, I saw none of that ill-treatment. I found a place where there were very few ‘blacks’ and where the colonial baggage and constraints didn’t seem to exist for West Indians. Actually, the people I encountered were somewhat confused, I thought, about what being ‘black’ meant. One particular incident comes to mind where the organisation where I was working at the time was holding a baby photo competition. The idea was to submit a photo of yourself as a baby that was then pinned to a board for all to see and guess who it was. Being the only black person in the office, I thought the exercise rather pointless. When I mentioned this to the person organising this event, she corrected me saying that I was not the only black person in the organisation. Only too happy to meet another black fellow, I asked whom this might be. You can imagine my amazement when she mentioned my colleague with Thai ancestry.
In those early years, I was able to grow into who I wanted to be and shed some of the taken-for-granted assumptions about what someone like me could do and where she fitted in society. It was so refreshing. Migrating to Australia was, therefore, overall a positive experience. Unlike my father’s experience, and so many of his generation, who migrated to the UK from the West Indies in the 1960s.
I now realise that this was in part due to the fact that I lived in a big city and that I mostly hung out with arty types, people outside of the mainstream Australian culture. Once, I ventured out of the CBD (central business district) and the more affluent suburbs of Eastern Suburbs and the Inner West, into the ‘Block’ in Redfern and then started to explore regional and remote Australia, including Maningrida in Arnhem Land, I found a different country. I noticed how Aboriginal people were treated as second-class citizens and understood why black people were, for most parts, not visible in cities. When I ventured outside the confounds of my circle of friends, work and home, I experienced looks of curiosity from people who were not able to identify me or even suspicion when I was, on occasion, mistakenly identified as Fijian.
In regional Australia, I was often asked where I was from. I don’t know about you, but for me, as a pure product of colonialisation who has taken advantage of the globalised world we live in, that is not an easy question to answer.
In those early years, I was able to grow into who I wanted to be and shed some of the taken-for-granted assumptions about what someone like me could do and where she fitted in society. It was so refreshing. Migrating to Australia was, therefore, overall a positive experience. Unlike my father’s experience, and so many of his generation, who migrated to the UK from the West Indies in the 1960s.
I now realise that this was in part due to the fact that I lived in a big city and that I mostly hung out with arty types, people outside of the mainstream Australian culture. Once, I ventured out of the CBD (central business district) and the more affluent suburbs of Eastern Suburbs and the Inner West, into the ‘Block’ in Redfern and then started to explore regional and remote Australia, including Maningrida in Arnhem Land, I found a different country. I noticed how Aboriginal people were treated as second-class citizens and understood why black people were, for most parts, not visible in cities. When I ventured outside the confounds of my circle of friends, work and home, I experienced looks of curiosity from people who were not able to identify me or even suspicion when I was, on occasion, mistakenly identified as Fijian.
In regional Australia, I was often asked where I was from. I don’t know about you, but for me, as a pure product of colonialisation who has taken advantage of the globalised world we live in, that is not an easy question to answer.
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African Diaspora In Sydney
Not only am I the result of parents who met in London after having migrated there from France and Grenada in the 1960s —and that’s another story—, but I have also moved around a lot since then. So depending on my mood and what I sense is hidden behind the question, I answer that I am from the Inner West in Sydney or that I am French, English and West Indian. But let’s go back to life in Sydney as a person from the African diaspora and let’s fast forward to 2018.
Twenty-five years later, there are now many more first and second generation migrants from Africa living in Sydney —mostly in the western suburbs. There are still, however, not that many people living here who have their roots in the African slave trade, whether having migrated from the West Indies, the UK or the US, for instance. And so, as it used to happen in the early years that I lived here, I still give a nod and a smile to those who cross my path. That feeling you get from recognising each other is powerful even if based on a fleeting connection.
Twenty-five years later, there are now many more first and second generation migrants from Africa living in Sydney —mostly in the western suburbs. There are still, however, not that many people living here who have their roots in the African slave trade, whether having migrated from the West Indies, the UK or the US, for instance. And so, as it used to happen in the early years that I lived here, I still give a nod and a smile to those who cross my path. That feeling you get from recognising each other is powerful even if based on a fleeting connection.
Where Am I From?I am not reminded on a daily basis that I am ‘other’, yet I still feel ‘other’ simply because I am not Caucasian, Asian, Aboriginal or Islander. It’s hard to describe that sense of relief I get when I find myself in another European or North American city where there is a large number of people with my cultural background. It came as a surprise to realise that after having enjoyed being able to re-shape who I am in my late twenties and early thirties more or less free from the stereotypes and pigeon holes that exist in Europe, I now feel the need to be surrounded by people who get where I am from.
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This need to live closely to people with whom I have a shared experience developed when I became a mother. I wanted my child to be able to relate to my mixed cultural heritage, which I see as his.
As a consequence of being mostly brought up in Australia, he has a different experience to mine and sees himself as a person of colour rather than black —as I see myself. If any, he prefers the label of ‘coloured’ because he sees it as offering more possibilities. This is because he doesn’t yet know of the term’s association with another time and other places (e.g. USA and South Africa). For him, ‘coloured’ is not as political as ‘black’, because it’s not linked to the struggle of African-Americans or Aboriginal people.
As a consequence of being mostly brought up in Australia, he has a different experience to mine and sees himself as a person of colour rather than black —as I see myself. If any, he prefers the label of ‘coloured’ because he sees it as offering more possibilities. This is because he doesn’t yet know of the term’s association with another time and other places (e.g. USA and South Africa). For him, ‘coloured’ is not as political as ‘black’, because it’s not linked to the struggle of African-Americans or Aboriginal people.
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Africans On The First Fleet
Although—as I just found out, some people from the African diaspora came to Australia on the first fleet, for a long time, being black in Australia referred to a different history of that of being black in Europe or northern America; it referred to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people and the country’s black history. Only recently, have black people from the African diaspora started to make the news and raise negative public opinion. This is worrying firstly because it shows that these young people feel the need to borrow ‘black’ identifies from elsewhere, rather than develop their own ‘black’ cultural terms and references.
But, I am also hopeful, because I see some of these mostly young Sudanese-Australian and others, such as this young Ethiopian-Australian man and these academics and thought leaders, stand firm against growing stereotypes. grapple with these issues at open forums, and bring intersectional diversity to the discussion table. This is very promising for the future of Australia and of the new generation of ‘black’ leaders.
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