In many ways, the 1920s are not much different from the early 2020s. We still combat Australia Day with messages of sadness and survival. We fight to have our voices heard on the issues that concern us – from police racial bias to treaty talks. We are even facing yet another pandemic . And we continue to strengthen and adapt to the current situation by taking Western systems and exploiting them to our own advantage.
This is what I learned as a Wiradjuri woman navigating life in a colonized society, working and studying in libraries and information services, with qualifications in history and heritage management.
History is inherently whitewashed
I have always loved history. The history of my own people was not a subject discussed at home – my old people’s tongues were too tired to recount past traumas. I would turn to libraries, museums, and art galleries, and soak up all the information my little hands could grasp. Much of the information I absorbed during these formative years was retained by non-native people.
The history of my own people was not a subject discussed at home – my old people’s tongues were too tired to recount past traumas.
It was only after my degree in ancient history – although focused on the Western civilizations of Rome and Greece – that I realized the origin of material culture and how data can be embedded in cultural artifacts. Even more, I came to understand the erasure or invalidation of Indigenous peoples in GLAM institutions (galleries, libraries, archives, and museums) when the anthropologist’s information took priority over the Indigenous society being studied. As such, I saw myself and my culture invalidated and spoken about as if we were extinct. This is what pushed me to direct my studies towards indigenous culture.
Community is key
No one tells you that studying your own culture in an academic environment is mentally and emotionally draining. No one tells you how your lived experience is invalidated as anecdotal and therefore unreliable. A heritage consultant I studied under told me not to speak openly about my Indigenous identity in the sector or I would be seen as “biased”. It took me a long time to navigate Western cultural spaces without ending the week crying on the phone or on another blackfella’s shoulder. Our mutual understanding of navigating academia as Indigenous peoples has been a balm for our bitterness.
I spent a year attending classes, seminars and conferences about GLAM institutions and, in doing so, opened myself up to an entire community of Indigenous people who study, teach and work within these industries. I met other Indigenous people in this space through Twitter and mutual connections. The strength and encouragement I received online helped me continue my education. They helped me understand that studying cultural heritage and archeology was too much for me, that libraries and archives were my strengths.
Validating Indigeneity by Validating Indigenous Data
When I began studying and looking for employment within GLAM institutions, decolonization was on everyone’s lips. Learning about decolonial practices helped me understand how Western institutions were able to decentralize non-Indigenous knowledge and implement self-determination. Even more, it made me realize that Indigenous knowledge and perspectives must form the foundation of these institutions for decolonization to ever be effective.
I am still not sure that decolonization is really achievable in our current society. Throughout my professional career, I have joked that we should “burn it down and start again.” To say I was joking would only be half the truth. Sometimes the frustration is so great and suffocating, like you’re trying to force your way through a narrow space at the edge of a cliff. I am confident, however, that growing investment in Indigenous data sovereignty is both feasible and necessary.
Indigenous data sovereignty aims to return provenance and custody to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.
“Indigenous data” has always been about us, without us. Indigenous data sovereignty aims to return provenance and custody to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. It is a movement that not only decentralizes non-Indigenous knowledge and helps institutions implement practices of self-determination: it actively centers Indigenous knowledge from time immemorial, it recognizes Indigenous experiences as factual and he affirms that indigenous peoples, and not the anthropologist who studies our societies. , are the guardians of our own cultural heritage.
“Nothing about us without us” is not required, but not recommended
This article is just the tip of the iceberg. Decentralize non-Indigenous people and validate Indigenous voices in , , And have raised awareness and empowered the GLAM sector. Indigenous data sovereignty in computing and science, , are mentioned more frequently. Not to mention extensive research into to keep culture and community alive.
I stand on the shoulders of giants. From strong, passionate people who opened the door for me and those like me. The more Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people infiltrate these spaces and use our knowledge of these spaces to create new Indigenous-led information systems, the closer we come to regaining custodianship of this land, of our culture and all its available data.
Raelee Lancaster is a writer and library services professional based in Meanjin. She tweets @raeleelancaster.
This story is edited by Author Mununjali for SBS Voices and is part of a series of essays inspired by the 2020 theme “Always was, always will be”.
National NAIDOC Week (8-15 November 2020) celebrates the history, culture and achievements of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. Join SBS and NITV for a complete list of NAIDOC week’s content. For more information about NAIDOC Week or this year’s theme, visit the official NAIDOC Week website. #NAIDOC2020 #AlwaysWasAlwaysWillBe
