For those readers in Victoria, stop whatever you are doing, for this is far more important. In addition to identifying a gender disparity that favours male authors, the academics also note a “persistence of heteronormative texts” in assigned reading materials. Their study also revealed that of the protagonists in these novels “78% were heterosexual, 18% had no identifiable sexuality and just 4% were identifiably homosexual.” The horror, as the fictitious Colonel Walter E. Kurtz would say.
On a side note, this “identifiably homosexual” business could be an overly narrow interpretation. For example, I remember J.R. Tolkien’s “The Hobbit’ from high school, and I assume the authors of this study would have placed Bilbo Baggins in the “no identifiable sexuality” category. But think about it – middle age male hobbit who never married and lives alone, is fastidiously tidy, puts on sumptuous dinner parties for an all-male gathering, although is a stress ball throughout the entire evening – now come on.
Anyway, the authors conclude that “it is time for educators to escape the comfort of their own literary histories”. This galvanised me, as did a report this week that students at a Sydney Catholic school had, in response to an online question “Can non-white people be racist,” answered “Yes”. They were rightly told this was the wrong answer.
Some may look at this simply as a case of students contradicting immutable truths but if I had my way, I would have publicly shamed the little fascist turds. Hopefully my short story will go some way, however small, to addressing white consciousness, as well as securing me a lucrative gig writing papers for a revamped Victorian Certificate of Education English exam:
It was 7.20am when Rubab awoke. The day was clear, the sun was shining, and the birds were singing, but something did not feel right. This was the third consecutive night she had discarded her doona in her sleep. Yet this was July, the middle of winter, and the average early morning temperature in Wurundjeri lands at the time of year was around 14 degrees, but this felt at least two degrees higher.
It was, she reflected sadly, a depressing reminder that conservative governments had refused to address climate change. As she reached for the digital radio, she remembered that ABC had been forced to end its 7.45am news bulletin due to budget cuts. If only the commercial radio stations could provide such informed and objective coverage that reflected the community’s diversity, she thought as she dressed in her 100 per cent recyclable school uniform.
“Hurry, Rubab, you do not want to be late,” her father, Aziz, called from the kitchen. He was a strict but devoted father who, in line with the feminist principles of Islam, emphasised the importance of education as a means of ensuring a woman’s independence. A knowledgeable man himself, he was in his native Iraq an astrophysicist. In Australia, however, he worked as a taxi driver, his ethic name an impediment to every professional position he applied for.
Still, her father reminded her, their family was more fortunate than their relatives left behind in Iraq. She was too young to remember life in that country, but her father would speak of the peace and tranquillity in the days before the illegal US-led invasion, when the most dangerous thing that could happen to you was to walk under the date palms and be struck on the head by its delicious fruit as it fell from the tree.
She enjoyed school, but as always, her stomach tensed when she walked towards it. The school was on a main road, and outside the main entrance police would conduct random checks on people walking by to ensure they were complying with COVID-19 zoning restrictions. But as Rubab remarked to her friends, she thought “random” meant by chance. Instead the police stopped only people of colour.
Now she was about 10 metres from the nearest police officer. She knew what would happen next. Without so much as acknowledging her presence with a grunt, the officer would extend his hand to demand her school pass. He would compare at length her face with the photograph of her pass, before again, wordlessly, handing it back to her. This petty abuse of power was humiliating.
But as she tentatively drew closer, she saw it was a different officer. Although this one wore a mask like the others, Rubab could make out a friendly smile. “Hello,” the policewoman said to her. “Can I help you?”
Rubab was taken aback. “Don’t you want to check my pass,” she asked.
“I can if you really want me to,” the officer replied cheerfully, “but potentially that could constitute harassment, not to mention a violation of the Victorian Charter of Human Rights and Responsibilities Act 2006. My name is Bhakti, by the way,” she said as she extended her elbow, “and my pronouns are she/her”.
“I’m Rubab and you’re not like other police,” replied Rubab. “You’re friendly and helpful. Why do you, a minority, work in an organisation that is structurally racist and misogynist?”
“I’m afraid your description is accurate,” said Bhakti. “When I was your age there was a new chief commissioner by the name of Christine Nixon who said she would bring culture change to the organisation, particularly through affirmative action and refusing to label ethnic gangs ‘gangs’. To me that made perfect sense, and she inspired me to join and play a part in arresting the real offender – whiteness.”
“But what about the white officers,” asked Rubab. “Don’t you feel threatened working with them?”
“The culture is slowly changing for the better,” replied Bhakti. “Besides, I met my life partner in this job and they is white”, she added. “Speaking of which I must text Deb and tell them I’ll be working a double shift today. Nice meeting you, Rubab!” As she continued walking to school, Rubab felt uplifted by this positive engagement.
In her racism and reconciliation class that day, they talked about what white people should be doing to combat racism. Because, said the teacher Mr Wainster, it is not enough not to be racist. You must be anti-racist. He talked about how, soon after it became a dominion, Australia enacted the White Australia Policy, which was discriminatory towards Asian people.
Mr Wainster said Premier Daniel Andrews was a good example of how Australia could atone for its shameful past, particularly in his putting complete trust in the Chinese Communist Party by signing up the state to the Belt & Road Initiative, an agreement that would bring mutual prosperity and harmony to both parties as well as ensuring close friendship.
After finishing school, Rubab went to the local shops. To her surprise she again saw Bhakti, this time with another officer. “Hi Rubab!”, said Bhakti as she waved.
“Hi Bhakti,” said Rubab. “Who is your colleague?”
“You must be Rubab,” said the male officer. “I’m Damien. Bhakti has told me all about you. Before we talk any further, I want to acknowledge my white male heteronormative privilege and let you know that I too wish to change police culture, which is replete with toxic masculinity and the subjugation of minorities. Through being a better ally, I too can help decolonise this country.”
“How come you’re not wearing a gun like all the other officers,” asked Rubab.
“Bhakti and I agreed that in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement, we would no longer carry firearms or any other offensive accoutrements that have been used to oppress First Nation Peoples,” said Damien. “But we are having a friendly disagreement about what to do next. I say we get out of the police car and walk around the shops as this will reduce our carbon footprint. She says that is a good idea in-principle but reminiscent of old-style beat policing, which has overtones of a 1950s white supremacist society. What do you think?”
“Your intentions are good,” said Rubab, “but I think you should listen to women more”.
“You’re absolutely right,” said Damien as he picked up the radio transmitter handset. “D24, this is Cranbourne 14. We’re mobile, and I’d just like to pay my respects to the traditional owners of this land, the Wurundjeri people, and acknowledge that their sovereignty has never been ceded.”
That was my first attempt, in the academic authors’ words, of “being inclusive, sensitive and uninhibited toward the dark and complex events of Australian history”. I urge you too to join me in eradicating our white consciousness from all curricula.
Just for something different, I thought I would present you with a short story. My motive for this is civic-mindedness, and it begins with an article I read this week in the Herald-Sun concerning University of Melbourne academics Alex Bacalja and Lauren Bliss. They have spent the last three years perusing books and texts assigned to Victorian high school students, and have concluded the English curriculum reflects a “white consciousness”.