Hollingsworth et al. (2021). Indigenous students identities in Australian higher education found denied and reinforced PDF

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Race Ethnicity and Education

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Indigenous students’ identities in Australian higher education: found, denied, and reinforced David Hollinsworth, Maria Raciti & Jennifer Carter To cite this article: David Hollinsworth, Maria Raciti & Jennifer Carter (2021) Indigenous students’ identities in Australian higher education: found, denied, and reinforced, Race Ethnicity and Education, 24:1, 112-131, DOI: 10.1080/13613324.2020.1753681 To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/13613324.2020.1753681

Published online: 22 Apr 2020.

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RACE ETHNICITY AND EDUCATION 2021, VOL. 24, NO. 1, 112–131 https://doi.org/10.1080/13613324.2020.1753681

Indigenous students’ identities in Australian higher education: found, denied, and reinforced David Hollinswortha, Maria Raciti

b

and Jennifer Cartera

a

School of Social Sciences, Faculty of Arts, Business and Law, University of the Sunshine Coast, Sunshine Coast, Australia; bSchool of Business, Faculty of Arts, Business and Law, University of the Sunshine Coast, Sunshine Coast, Australia ABSTRACT

ARTICLE HISTORY

Indigenous Australian identities are enmeshed in racializing discourses that often occlude diversity, hybridity, and intersectionality. Australians who self-identify as Aboriginal are often disbelieved by both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people, or confront hierarchies of authenticity. Critical analysis of focus groups with undergraduate Aboriginal students suggests that while there are opportunities to find and reinforce their identities in Australian universities, those identities are also denied. Using counterstories and critical race theory, this study exposes dominant misrepresentations of Aboriginality in Australian higher education that can affect academic success and attrition. Universities need to abandon rigid, culturalist constructions of Aboriginal students’ identities, and expectations that these can be codified and regulated. Academic and administrative staff require sustained education in the histories of defining Aboriginality, and knowledge of Aboriginal identity politics, stereotypes, and the diversity of contemporary Indigenous peoples so they can respond in culturally safe and flexible ways to Aboriginal students.

Received 14 January 2020 Accepted 1 April 2020 KEYWORDS

Aboriginality; identity; (anti-) essentialism; higher education; diversity; counterstory

Introduction A powerful representation of Indigenous1 Australian identity is a seven-minute video piece by Quandamooka woman Megan Cope, which won the 2015 Western Australian Indigenous Art Award. Accompanied by solemn choral music, The Blaktism (2014) shows a political/religious ceremony where the ‘fair-skinned’ artist is painted with dark make-up in an official recognition of her authenticity as Aboriginal. The officiating officer (white, male, older) intones: In the eyes of true Australians, we hereby grant consent to the authorization of Megan Cope’s Aboriginality. We assert that through this ritual of pigment resolution you will be fully potentiated and seen as a real Aborigine by all great citizens of this nation.

The relevance for the many Australians who query someone who does not ‘look’ obviously Aboriginal is clear, but the artist explains that her inspiration comes from demands she prove her status with a confirmation of Aboriginality (based largely on CONTACT David Hollinsworth

[email protected]

© 2020 Informa UK Limited, trading as Taylor & Francis Group

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Aboriginal community endorsement). Such a requirement (mandatory for many Indigenous services including those in universities) is deeply resented by many who, for a variety of reasons, do not have a secure lived connection to a community able or willing to endorse their claims of Aboriginality (Carlson 2016). This paper explores responses by Indigenous higher education students to the myriad, conflicting expectations placed upon them in Australian universities by non-Indigenous and Indigenous staff, students, administration, and bureaucratic structures and processes. Contested aboriginalities Understanding the complex and, at times, contradictory negotiations of Indigeneity by university students requires consideration of the shifting contours and contexts of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander identities under colonization. This field is extensive and mired in serious challenges about who can speak on such matters, in what contexts, and to what ends (Hollinsworth 1992; Nyoongah et al. 1992; Huggins 1993; Dodson 1994; D’ Cruz 2008). There are also court cases dating back to the mid-nineteenth century that turn on the legal definitions and status of Aboriginal people (given their assumed racial descent) for a variety of administrative purposes (McCorquodale 1986). Much of the potential for trauma in debates around Aboriginality derives from the long history of oppressive colonial laws and practices, and the profound influence of social Darwinist ideology of a doomed race (McGregor 1997). Among the many violations and abuses that followed dispossession were policies of segregation and ‘protection’ that institutionalized many Aboriginal families and controlled virtually every aspect of their lives into the 1960s (Kidd 1997). Alongside these oppressive internments, as many as one in three Aboriginal children (especially girls) were removed from their families between 1900 and 1970 (HREOC 1997). Despite being argued to be in the ‘best interests’ of the children, these policies shattered those left behind and mostly led to higher levels of abuse, trauma, and poor mental health among those removed (HREOC 1997). Many children were denied knowledge of their Aboriginal background or were taught to regard it as contemptible or their parents as negligent (Haebich 2000; Mellor and Haebich 2002). Those who were or became aware of their ancestry frequently were unable to trace their families and communities. Others were rejected by their birth families or found reunions traumatic, although there are many cases of great outcomes from the work of various agencies with the support of advocacy organizations including the National Sorry Day Committee and the Stolen Generations Alliance. While there are protocols available for non-Indigenous people, there is scant guidance for non-recognised Aboriginal people wanting to engage with Aboriginal communities (Bennett 2015, 254). Many members (and descendants) of the Stolen Generations were welcomed by family and community, but that positive reception was not universal (Hollinsworth 2002). Reunions can be traumatic for those removed, for their birth families, and for the ‘new’ families of those returning (Read 1998). Other people with Aboriginal ancestry may for many different reasons have little or no contact with any Aboriginal community and face great hurdles in tracing their descent and additionally gaining recognition through a Confirmation of Aboriginality certification. As Carlson (2016, 105–6) explains:

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Aboriginal identity issues present particular difficulties when an individual’s history does not include an acceptable or recognisable narrative that legitimises a claim to share the common cultural tradition or the common historical experience. These narratives commonly form around mission or reserve experience, urban community experience, or the experience of removal from kin in current or previous generations. For Aboriginal people who have been intergenerationally disconnected from these shared experiences, the discovery of hidden histories may or may not uncover the necessary detail to construct a similar personal narrative.

In 1987 Sally Morgan published her biography, My Place, declaring she was raised to believe she was of Indian descent, only discovering her Aboriginality at age 15. The story of her search for her birth family gained national and international acclaim. Queensland academic Jackie Huggins (1993) denounced Sally Morgan as a race traitor, stating that: The act of passing is a horrendous crime in Aboriginal circles or places of knowing. Most Aboriginal people never ceded their identity, no matter how destructive, painful or bad the situation was. We vindictively remember those who have passed and . . . can never forget nor forgive these traitors.

While many thousands of the children and grandchildren of those who ‘passed’ as not Aboriginal may feel they did not make that choice, Huggins (1993); in contradiction to Bennett above, states there are arduous protocols and work required to (re)acquire acceptance by community: . . . Aboriginality cannot be acquired overnight. It takes years of hard work, sensitivity and effort to ‘come back in’. Forgotten people will tell you so. The debt has to be repaid in various ways. It’s a socialised learned pattern of behaviour and while the blood and spirit are fixed categories, there are protocols and ethics to adhere to when ‘becoming Aborigines’ again.

Huggins’ outrage seems to assume those who pass acquire white privilege. Opinion amongst ‘fair-skinned’ Aboriginal people varies (Bennett 2015, 227–231). Holland (1996, 97) suggests: The racism directed towards murris in this society has been a constant reminder to me that I belong to a black family. Yet growing up blonde, blue-eyed, and fair-skinned, I certainly cannot deny my english and irish heritages. Nor can I deny the opportunities I have been afforded as a result of my whiteness and being mis/taken as white in this racist society.

These complex and often bitter exchanges of internal identity politics are rightly regarded as ‘Aboriginal business’, but have very significant implications for non-Aboriginal people and structures that seek to engage equitably with Aboriginal people. While Prime Minister Rudd’s apology for these removals on 13 February 2008 was a profound act of healing, compensation for abuses experienced in institutional and foster care is only available in some jurisdictions and difficult to access (Kune 2011; Cunneen and Grix 2004). Other cases have sought recognition of the loss of cultural rights and identity, including loss of traditional languages (Zuckermann, Shakuto-Neoh, and Quer 2014). Since the early 1980s the official definition of Indigeneity states that: ‘An Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander is a person of Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander descent who identifies as an Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander and is accepted as such by the community in which he (she) lives’ (Gardiner-Garden 2003, 1). Yet Aboriginality has been denied, imposed or recognized arbitrarily in line with inconsistent, socially constructed criteria based on assumptions about ‘blood’ or racial composition for centuries.

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Partly in repudiation of such practices, and partly because of the imprecision in any genetic testing (De Plevitz and Croft 2003), modern legal definitions of Aboriginality pay little attention to the actual or presumed quantum of descent. During the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody, Commissioner Elliot Johnston commented that: The proportion of Aboriginal descent is not specified here. Recognition by the Aboriginal community – in practice, an Aboriginal community – usually entails being situated in a particular family and network of kinship and affinity. Thus certified, the proportion of Aboriginal ancestry is irrelevant; what counts is a kin connection with other Aboriginal people’ (RCIADIC, 1991, Volume 2, 143).

While this paper endorses Johnston’s position, not all Australians regard the proportion of ancestry as irrelevant to political debates about identity and entitlements. Among the insistent denials of Aboriginality to those who fail to meet non-Indigenous expectations, perhaps the most notorious were two articles in the Herald Sun by Andrew Bolt in 2009. These named nine prominent Indigenous people as choosing to identify to benefit from privileges attendant on Indigenous status and depriving genuine Aboriginal people of those opportunities. Justice Bromberg found in favour of one of those named, Pat Eatock, that the articles carried the offensive and humiliating imputation that ‘[f]air skin colour indicates a person who is unlikely to be sufficiently Aboriginal to be genuinely identifying as an Aboriginal person’ (cited in Stone 2015, 930). Outrage in response to the judgment was primarily aimed at removal of racial vilification (section 18 c) of the Race Discrimination Act 1975, but was ultimately unsuccessful (Gelber and McNamara 2013; Tate 2016). Of more significance is the widespread sense of non-Indigenous entitlement to arbitrate on Aboriginal people’s self-identifications. Arguably this is a perpetuation of the racist colonial gaze that homogenized hundreds of different Indigenous nations into the category Australian Aboriginal following dispossession (Donaldson and Donaldson 1985; Attwood 1989; Gorringe, Ross, and Fforde 2011). The university students in the study outlined below provide examples of the complex processes of identity performance and negotiation demanded of them and their responses to management, staff and student expectations. We argue that Australian universities perpetuate homogenous and essentialised notions of Aboriginality towards their students despite copious literature that stresses diversity.

Aboriginal students in Australian higher education Since the Bradley et al. (2008) and Behrendt Reviews (2012), there have been significant efforts by all universities to proactively address the under-representation of Indigenous students. Pechenkina, Kowal, and Paradies (2011) stress that the Australian higher education sector is hierarchical, with older, affluent institutions dominating newer, often research-poor, often regional ones. The bulk of Indigenous students have always attended the latter with more lenient entry provisions (but lower completion rates), while the elite universities are more selective but have fewer numbers, often providing scholarships, resulting in better completion outcomes (Pechenkina, Kowal, and Paradies 2011). To some extent higher rates of Indigenous attrition becomes normalised with explanations emphasising the social, cultural, and financial barriers to academic success. It is

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rare that poor retention is framed (at least by management and most staff) in terms of institutional racism, or inadequate teaching and learning support, or lack of culturally inclusive curriculum, even though these are documented in scholarly research (BodkinAndrews and Carlson 2016; Page, Trudgett, and Sullivan 2017). There are almost no interviews or surveys of exiting students and the focus is on recruiting replacements. We regard this as immoral as the ‘opportunity costs’ for those who leave are ignored, as is the harm done to their confidence and self-esteem. Scholarship on Indigenous attrition in universities has frequently noted the dominance of deficit discourses that explain poor student performance and attrition in terms of lack of academic skills and Western cultural capital (Burgess 2017; Pechenkina 2017). Current Australian government policy aims to ‘Close the Gap’ in selected statistical indicators regardless of Indigenous aspirations that might value other outcomes or seek different ways of being (Harrison 2012). Pholi, Black, and Richards (2009) powerfully reject these assimilationist assumptions within Closing the Gap policies. Australian universities struggle with the need to decolonize not only curriculum and pedagogy, but also governmental, administrative, and funding legacies from entrenched racisms that continue to reproduce lower representation and poorer retention and graduation rates for Indigenous students (Pechenkina, Kowal, and Paradies 2011; Rochecouste et al. 2017). This context exerts powerful but contradictory pressures on identity discovery and formation amongst Aboriginal higher education students which this research explores.

Methods The research is based on three focus groups, of around 50–75 min each, with a total of 21 (made up of 6, 4, 11) Indigenous undergraduate students in two regional universities. The respondents were asked questions about their experiences of the university place as welcoming or not, culturally safe or unsafe, affirming or alienating and the factors that shaped those experiences. A significant proportion of self-identifying Aboriginal students in our study came from families that denied (or were unaware of) that ancestry, and/or had no community engagement, as seen in some responses below. The first author is a non-Indigenous academic who has taught Indigenous Studies to Indigenous university students since 1978. The second author is an Aboriginal academic who designed and led the research, and the third is a non-Indigenous academic who has worked with Indigenous peoples since 1995. The majority of students who volunteered for the research had worked with the lead author for three-four years and the third author for 1 year, and had individually and collectively expressed their frustrations about stereotyping and contestation of their own lived experiences as Aboriginal people in assignments, in class, and in private conversations. The second author thus delegated the primary role in analysing and writing up this study to the lead author, given the longterm relationships and trust between the lead author and those students. Student frustration expressed over time had particularly concerned the racialized expectations of their non-Indigenous peers, other Indigenous students, and in particular, staff and administration at one of the universities in this study. They often linked these pressures to their own struggles to assert, discover, or modify their sense of themselves, both personally and academically, within the university context.

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This study applies critical race theory (Gillborn and Ladson-Billings 2010; Marom 2019), in particular, counterstories (Solorzano and Yosso 2001; Golden 2017) to explore experiences, anxieties, and hopes of Indigenous higher education students, their impact on students’ identities, and the extent to which institutional biases and assumptions of Indigenous identity support or compromise students. Counterstorytelling captures racialized students’ diverse experiences within higher education in ways that reveal covert or disavowed marginalisation and oppression (Atwood and López 2014; Decuir-Gunby and Walker-Devose 2013; Martinez 2014). As López (2003, 84–85) states: The counterstories of people of color . . . are those stories that are not told, stories that are consciously and/or unconsciously ignored or downplayed because they do not fit socially acceptable notions of truth. By highlighting these subjugated accounts, CRT hopes to demystify the notion of a racially neutral society and tell another story of a highly racialized social order: a story where social institutions and practices serve the interest of White individuals.

Hiraldo (2010) identifies five major tenets within critical race theory as counterstorytelling, the permanence of racism, whiteness as property, interest convergence, and critique of liberalism. CRT has been criticised for privileging race above other identity factors (Cole 2009; see also Gillborn 2009). This paper regards attention to intersectionality as a necessary component within CRT (Hobbel and Chapman 2009). While ‘racism is a central axis of oppression’ (Gillborn 2015, 277), the lived experiences and structural forces of various identity constructions can shift across time and context as an empirical que...