‘Honey, we’re not doing it for you’: Rhoda Roberts on the welcome-to-Country backlash

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Rhoda Roberts. The artist, festival director and arts executive, 65, is a member of the Bundjalung nation and Widjabul clan. She was made an Officer of the Order of Australia in 2016 for distinguished service to the performing arts.

Rhoda Roberts: “Australia prides itself on religious freedom. But you won’t accept our Welcome to Country?”Credit: Elise Derwin

SEX

Growing up, what were the big differences you noticed between Aboriginal and white Australian attitudes towards sex? Sex wasn’t a bad thing for us. You did it, but there was a code. No matter if you’re male, female or whatever, you do not take another man’s man, another woman’s woman, another woman’s man, another man’s woman. That’s the code – and it’s a strong one.

Is there anything that you envy about younger generations when it comes to sex and relationships? After my son turned 18, his first vote was about marriage equality. He’s very liberal and open and asked, “Why do we have to vote for a certain group of people to be able to be married? I just can’t believe it.” I really liked that. I share my opinions totally honestly with my kids – whether it’s about men, transgender women in sports, whatever – and he pulled me up one day and said, “Look, I appreciate you’re trying to be open-minded, Mum. But simply ask yourself one question: ‘Are they good human beings?’ “

Tell me about sex in your 60s. There’s still sex, but it’s not just about that rush of ripping off your clothes, up against the wall, like when you were 20. It’s more thoughtful. It’s the trust and the companionship that make it better. So it changes – really fantastically.

DEATH

We’re going to talk about death. Oh my gosh, yes!

Wow, that’s such an enthusiastic response. Most people say, “Absolutely not.” Why do you want to discuss death? I’ve been surrounded by death all my life. Most Aboriginal people attend funerals from primary school. It’s a cultural thing: you need to be there, honour your family and show respect, especially if it’s an old person. Honestly, we get funeralled-out. But I use that as a time to think about all my loved ones – my sister, young nephews – all those who’ve passed in very different circumstances. I’m also a black woman, but what I’ve been through is nothing compared to what my grannies went through [in terms of their children forcibly being taken away from them and the poverty they experienced].

What do you believe happens after we die? In our Bundjalung nation, we believe in reincarnation and going back to the Dreaming. I often laugh when Australians want to go to Asia to find Buddha; so few people recognise that we have the oldest philosophies, rituals and rites in the world here.

Of all the losses that you’ve experienced, what have been the most significant? Oh, there are so many. Losing my dad, losing my mum. My mother died on my 62nd birthday [in 2021] which is so like my mum; I’ll never forget the date. But, most importantly, I’m a twin and I haven’t really celebrated our birthday since my sister, Lois, was murdered in 1998. It felt weird doing it on my own. We were told, “Lois has gone walkabout; you’re overreacting.” [Thirty-nine-year-old Lois went missing in Nimbin in northern NSW in July 1998; her remains were found in the nearby Whian Whian State Forest six months later. No one has ever been charged.] A terrible thing. After a period of time, you go, “OK, I can’t rely on the industry that’s supposed to investigate and find out, so we’re just going to have to do it ourselves.” Since the day she went, before I go to sleep at night, I think of her. First thing when I wake up, I see her. So she will always remain young.

I’m so sorry, Rhoda. How has your sister’s death changed the way you live your life? Lois gave me a gift: she trusted me to raise one of the most precious things I’ll ever have. She had her youngest daughter, Emily, in 1994. Welfare wanted to take this child. So under the kinship system, I was given the baby to raise. Lois begged me, “Please help me raise this girl. I can’t, but I don’t want her to go to another family.” So it changed our world. Some days with Emily, I’m like, “Oh, my god, you’re irresponsible – just like my sister!” But what a gift.

POLITICS

You were one of the key Aboriginal figures who pioneered welcome-to-Country ceremonies before major events. Lately, there’s been a backlash, with some non-Aboriginal Australians asking, “Why am I being welcomed to my own country?” What would you want them to understand? Follow [Aboriginal] songlines. Traditionally, when you reached a border, you’d call out to be invited onto that country. There’d be a response and you’d be invited in. It’s about respectfully knocking on the door and saying, “Thank you for inviting us into your house.” Australia prides itself on religious freedom. But you won’t accept our welcome to Country? You don’t accept that we, as Aboriginal people – the first people of this country that you occupy – also have a religion like any civil society? Well, honey, we’re not doing [welcomes to Country] for you: we’re doing it to continue the legacy of our forebears.

What does Australia get right? One of the great things was SBS television. We have NITV [National Indigenous Television], as well. Multiculturalism: I think we got that right, compared to other countries. We live in a pretty peaceful country.

And if you were prime minister for a day … Gee, I’d put us [Aboriginal people] in the Constitution.

Rhoda Roberts is the curator of Parrtjima – A Festival in Light in Alice Springs, NT on April 4–13.

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