Learning my own family history ended my indifference to Australia Day

In the 80s, when I swapped school for a job, I went into shock when I could no longer hang out at the beach from Christmas ’til February. I would count the days until the long weekend in January, so I could slap on my Reef Oil one last time before the seasons changed.

Indigenous protesters on Australia Day 1988 during the bicentennial celebrations.Credit: Fairfax

This was in Victoria, and we called this three-day break the “Australia Day long weekend”. I don’t recall anyone being passionate about Australia Day or January 26, as we just wanted a public holiday taken on the closest Monday so people could escape the cities for a waterside break. Sure, there’d be a barbecue like any other summer weekend, but there wasn’t one napkin, hat, tablecloth, or paper plate emblazoned with our national flag.

Even after that changed in the mid-90s when the public holiday became the actual date regardless of what day in the week it fell, I can’t recall doing anything significantly patriotic on any Australia Day, except once a few years back. I bought some napkins and cups at the supermarkets featuring the Aussie flag for one of my kids who had invited friends over to listen to Triple J. This must have been before 2017 when the radio station stopped broadcasting The Hottest 100 on Australia Day.

Historian Cassandra Pybus, a cousin of the author, who wrote a book on Indigenous woman Truganini.Credit: Peter Mathew

I now live in Canberra and on January 26 last year, I set off on an early bike ride out to Bunnings to buy some gardening things, steering clear of the area alongside Lake Burley Griffin where I knew people would be gathering for their citizenship ceremony. As I cycled nearer Duntroon, a helicopter flew low and slow dragging an enormous Australian flag but on the ground, others like me were cycling, walking and running like it was any other day. That got me thinking about what all these people out exercising or grabbing DIY products on their day off might be doing later to mark this day.

My English ancestors were granted a large parcel of land at Bruny Island off Tasmania, land that belonged to Truganini’s Nuenonne people.

Australia Day first piqued my attention in 1988 during the celebrations for the bicentenary as spectacular images of Sydney Harbour were televised. It gained more of my attention when I read Truganini four years ago, a book written by my second cousin Cassandra Pybus and winner of the National Biography Award 2021. Our shared family history intersects with the arrival of my great-great-great grandparents from England in 1829, where they were granted a large parcel of land on Lunawanna-allonah, a place we know today as Bruny Island off Tasmania. Land that belonged to Truganini’s Nuenonne people.

As I rode home with my purchases via Parliament House from the bottom of Federation Mall, I could hear chanting in the distance. I stopped at the forecourt where police hurriedly gathered forming a line as a crowd marched up the ramp from Commonwealth Avenue expressing their distress for this day and what it means to our First Nations people. “Invasion Day”.

I stood transfixed as the brewing storm clouds above echoed the mood. And then, quite out of the blue, I inhaled with short, sharp breaths each with an audible sob. Those close by may have thought I had hiccups, but the accompanying tears proved otherwise.

As I stood there wiping my cheeks with the back of my cycling gloves, the source of my emotion became evident. If Arthur Phillip hadn’t claimed this land for the English on January 26, 1788, I would never have been lucky enough to be born in a country I love. Yet, my privilege came at a cost to the people who were already here.

So how do I reconcile with being a white Australian who benefited from the English taking this land whilst also knowing what that meant for the very people whose land they took? Is it hypocrisy to say I wish it had never happened while being grateful to have been born here by virtue that it did happen?

While I may not know how to feel about these conflicting truths, there are things of which I am certain. Supermarkets choosing not to stock items emblazoned with our Aussie flag, items made in other countries, is not un-Australian. Calls to change a date I spent half my life overlooking disqualifies me from zealous outrage. Recent polls suggest I am now in the minority.

So this year I’ll no doubt go for a bike ride and spend time in my garden thinking about Truganini and her people, along with my own ancestors. I’ve got 364 other days to celebrate being Aussie.

Jo Pybus is a freelance writer and host of Alex the Seal podcast