The events depicted below are based on real experiences I had in Australia from 2020 to 2022. The names of people and places have been removed. Not to protect them, but rather to accommodate the handful of names that have relentlessly built and pushed forward the same issues I am about to address. Think of…
This piece was inspired by the many conversations of my travels.
The distant coastline falls beyond the view of the pier from the boundary of the hostel. Behind the partition, hands are burdened with wrinkled beer cans and tobacco ciggies littered with weed. The drunken party promises of new-age nomads from the distant kitchen sound…
Here I am, on my knees for a white man.
Throwback to 50 years ago, and the context of this statement would have meant I was about to be beheaded, or shot, or whatever else occurred during the Vietnam war. But it’s 2020, and as the world slowly comes to terms with the breadth of its…
I was 12 or 13 years old when I had my left arm intentionally broken by racist, highly privileged white kids at the school I was going to. And by broken arm, I mean broken. I was in a cast for three months.
Though I’d been bullied for years, at the time, I didn’t even…
Before the Coronavirus pandemic came along and fucked up everyone’s lives, I was living a pretty normal one. I had a full-time job that took up most of my time, I shopped at my local Woolies for groceries every week, and often, my friends and I made plans to hang out, get dinner and catch…
Last night, we heard screaming. Tucked away in our apartment during quarantine, we wondered what people were doing outside clapping and yelling. Upon looking out the window, we could hear our neighbours across the alley – they were sitting on window ledges, hollering and cheering. Shouts from blocks away could be heard echoing through the…
We might blame it on brainwashing from years of threats of the wooden spoon or slipper, but first and second generation Australians really need to stop listening to their racist families.
My name is Jelena Zaric and if you ask me if I’m Croatian, I won’t be offended. I’m actually Serbian-Australian, but it’s an easy…
I’m not your fetish. I’m not easy for you to obtain, and I’m not an object of your affections.
I am a Chinese girl with a dark complexion, green hair and a loud mouth. I am a Chinese girl who has spent most of her life living in the city of Brisbane, a predominantly white-populated…
Another week, another group of young Australians in blackface. It’s a regular enough occurrence for the outrage to be dulled; it’s not going to go viral, a panel of white people won’t discuss it on Sunrise. There’s a certain fatigue for this sort of dickhead behaviour: fury is replaced by disbelief that these guys could…
My stomach is churning as I walk towards the big green sign. No matter the destination, the feeling I get arriving at the immigration desk never ceases to change. When I get to the front of the line, a middle-aged Balinese man ushers me over.
Before I get the chance to give him my passport,…