Significant Dates for Indigenous Australians in September

 

John Pat Memorial, Emily Kame Kngwarreye, Cathy Freeman

September holds profound significance in Australian history, particularly for Indigenous Australians, reflecting both sombre and celebratory moments. This month marks the tragic Wulwulam Massacre of 1884, a stark reminder of colonial violence, and the death in custody of 16-year-old John Pat in 1983, which sparked national discourse on police brutality and Indigenous rights.

Conversely, September also celebrates the artistic legacy of Emily Kame Kngwarreye, who passed away in 1996, and Cathy Freeman's landmark Olympic victory in 2000, symbolising reconciliation and pride. The demolition of a racially offensive sign on a grandstand at a Toowoomba sports venue in 2008 further illustrates Australia’s ongoing journey toward First Nations justice and respect.

3 September 1884 – The Beginning of the Wulwulam Massacre

In September 1884, a tragic series of events marked the beginning of what would become known as the Wulwulam Massacre, one of the many shameful episodes in Australia’s colonial past.

The Wulwulam people, also known as the Woolwonga or Wolwanga, were an Indigenous Australian tribe whose ancestral lands stretched across approximately 4,900 square kilometres in the Northern Territory. These lands, rich in natural resources, extended from the headwaters of the Mary River to Pine Creek and southwards almost to Katherine.

The discovery of significant copper deposits near Mount Haywood in 1882 set the stage for the violent conflict that would ensue. European miners, drawn by the promise of wealth, established mining camps on Wulwulam land along the Daly River. The arrival of these colonists brought increased tension as the Wulwulam were forced into closer and more frequent contact with those trespassing on their traditional homelands.

The rapid invasion of their land, compounded by the absorption of neighbouring tribes like the Agikwala, Awinmul and Awarai, who were already decimated by the disease and displacement brought by the colonisers, further strained relations between the Wulwulam and the Europeans who imposed upon their tribal territory.

The escalating tension between the two groups reached a deadly climax on 3 September 1884. In an act of resistance against the encroachment on their land and resources, a group of Wulwulam warriors speared four European miners.

This act of defiance, born of desperation and a desire to protect their way of life, provoked a violent and disproportionate backlash from the colonists. The incident ignited what would come to be known as the Coppermine Massacres, a series of brutal reprisals orchestrated by Francis Herbert Sachse, a cattle station owner and mine manager.

The most infamous of these reprisals occurred at Blackfellow Creek, where Sachse and his men reportedly slaughtered an estimated 150 Wulwulam people. The massacre was indiscriminate, targeting men, women and children alike. Yet the violence did not end there; it persisted over several years, leading to the near-total extermination of the Wulwulam tribe.

Norwegian ethnographer Knut Dahl, who lived in the area a decade later, documented the grim aftermath of these massacres. Dahl recounted how white colonists, driven by a thirst for revenge, hunted down the remaining Wulwulam people. His chilling account describes how the colonists eventually found a large group of Wulwulam gathered at an abandoned mine. The armed hunting party surrounded the group, driving them into a lagoon, where they were mercilessly gunned down, leaving few survivors.

In the aftermath of the killings, four Wulwulam men were put on trial for the deaths of the European colonists. However, the trial was a mere formality, reflecting the deep-seated racial prejudice of the time. Despite the flimsy evidence and the extreme violence inflicted upon the Wulwulam, the men were convicted. One of the Wulwulam men, Charlie Yingi, eventually managed to escape the death penalty due to a legal technicality. Originally sentenced to hang, Yingi was cleared of the charge in a re-trial. The others were not so fortunate, two died in custody, and the third was jailed in Adelaide.

The massacre of the Wulwulam not only decimated their community but also severely weakened neighbouring tribes, such as the Mulluk-Mulluk, further destabilising the region. Today, it stands as a stark reminder of the brutal reality of colonisation and the enduring impact of these events on Indigenous communities in Australia.

In 2014, a significant discovery brought renewed attention to the Wulwulam’s tragic history. A document surfaced, registering the existence of a child of Wulwulam parentage in the 1889 census. This discovery has sparked efforts by the descendants of that child to assert native title rights to the Wulwulam's ancestral hunting grounds, offering a glimmer of hope for recognition and restitution.

As we remember the Wulwulam Massacre, it is crucial to honour the memory of the Wulwulam people and acknowledge the atrocities they suffered. Reflecting on this dark chapter in Australia’s history underscores the importance of continuing the fight for justice and recognition for the descendants of those who were so brutally wronged.

The story of the Wulwulam is not just a tale of loss and destruction but also one of resilience and the enduring quest for truth and reconciliation.

28 September 1983 – John Pat Died in Custody

The life of 16-year-old John Peter Pat was tragically cut short in an incident that would come to symbolise the deep-rooted injustices faced by Aboriginal Australians. John Pat's death in police custody in Roebourne, Western Australia, remains a stark reminder of the systemic racism and violence that has plagued the nation's history.

John Pat was born on 31 October 1966, the eldest of three children to Mavis Pat and Len Walley, who were married under traditional Aboriginal law. Raised on the Mount Florence pastoral station, he attended the local high school for two years before leaving to work briefly as a station hand.

However, like many young Aboriginal people of his time, he struggled with limited opportunities and was mostly unemployed. By the time of his death, he had already had encounters with the law, including convictions for minor offenses such as disorderly conduct and underage drinking.

The events leading to John Pat's death began on the afternoon of 28 September, when four off-duty police officers and an Aboriginal police aide returned to Roebourne from a police union meeting in Karratha. After consuming several glasses of beer at the Karratha Golf Club, the group visited the Victoria Hotel in Roebourne. A confrontation soon erupted outside the hotel, involving the police officers and local Aboriginal men, including John Pat.

According to witness testimonies, the fight escalated when the police officers allegedly attacked the Aboriginal men. John Pat, who had joined the altercation, was struck in the face by a policeman, causing him to fall backward and hit his head on the roadway. Witnesses also claimed that one of the officers kicked Pat in the head before dragging him to a waiting police van, where he was reportedly kicked again and thrown inside.

What happened next would horrify the local community and the nation. Observers outside the police station reported seeing the Aboriginal men systematically beaten as they were removed from the police van. One by one, they were dragged from the vehicle, punched and kicked as they lay on the ground. None of the men appeared to resist or fight back. When the police later checked on John Pat in his cell, he was dead.

The autopsy report revealed the extent of the violence inflicted on John Pat. He had suffered a fractured skull, haemorrhage, swelling, and bruising of the brain. His body bore numerous bruises, including a hand-sized bruise on the back of his head, and he had two broken ribs and a torn aorta, the major blood vessel leading from the heart. The medical examiner determined that Pat had died from "closed head injuries," likely caused by the back of his head hitting a flat surface.

The aftermath of John Pat's death only deepened the sense of injustice felt by his family and the broader Aboriginal community. A coronial inquest conducted on 30 October 1983, led to the five police officers involved being charged with unlawful killing. However, in a trial held in May 1984 before an all-white jury, all five officers were acquitted of manslaughter charges. The verdict was met with outrage and disbelief, as the officers claimed self-defence and were swiftly reinstated to duty without further investigation.

The case became a flashpoint for Aboriginal rights activists and human rights advocates, who saw the acquittal as yet another example of the systemic racism complicit in Australia's legal system. John Pat's death was not an isolated incident but rather part of a broader pattern of violence and discrimination against Aboriginal people by law enforcement.

In 1991, the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody acknowledged the significance of John Pat's death, stating that it had become "a symbol of injustice and oppression" for Aboriginal people nationwide. The commission's findings highlighted the deep sense of injustice that continued to resonate within Aboriginal communities, fuelling calls for accountability and reform.

Despite the passage of time, the memory of John Pat has not faded. His death is commemorated annually in parts of Australia, serving as a powerful reminder of the need for justice and equality.

A public monument at Fremantle Prison honours his memory, featuring a poignant poem by Jack Davis that captures the enduring pain of his loss: 

Write of life / the pious said

forget the past / the past is dead.

But all I see / in front of me

iIs a concrete floor / a cell door / and John Pat. 

The story of John Pat is a sobering reminder of the devastating impact of racism and violence on Aboriginal communities in Australia. As the nation continues to grapple with its colonial past and its legacy of injustice, John Pat's life and death stand as a call to action, a demand for recognition, respect and the urgent need for change.

3 September 1996 - Artist Emily Kame Kngwarreye passed away

In the vast, arid lands of Australia’s Northern Territory, the Utopia community has given the world one of its most extraordinary artistic talents, Emily Kame Kngwarreye. Born around 1910 in Alhalkere, a region rich with ancestral stories and traditions, Kngwarreye’s journey to becoming one of Australia’s most acclaimed artists is as remarkable as her work.

Despite starting her artistic career in her seventies, she left an indelible mark on the world of Indigenous Australian art, transforming her deep cultural heritage into a global phenomenon.

Kngwarreye was born into the Anmatyerre language group, a people deeply connected to the land and its stories. Growing up in a remote part of the Utopia region, about 250 kilometres northeast of Alice Springs, Kngwarreye’s early life was shaped by the traditional practices of her community. She spent much of her life working on cattle stations, a challenging environment where she also absorbed the cultural narratives that would later define her artwork. 

Although Kngwarreye had no biological children, she played a significant role as a custodian for her family and community. Her connection to the land and its Dreamtime stories was not just a cultural responsibility but a foundation for her future artistic expressions. This profound connection would later manifest in her works, which often depicted elements like the pencil yam, an important food source and a key symbol in her art.

Kngwarreye’s introduction to the world of art came through batik, a technique she learned in the 1970s. The medium was new to the Aboriginal communities in the Northern Territory, having been introduced by Indonesian instructors. Batik, with its intricate process of applying wax and dye to fabric, became a popular form of artistic expression among the women of Utopia. In 1978, Kngwarreye, along with other prominent artists, founded the Utopia Women’s Batik Group. This collective allowed these women to explore their creative voices, transitioning from assisting male artists to developing their own distinct styles.

Kngwarreye’s batik work laid the groundwork for her later paintings, with recurring motifs such as awelye (body painting designs), emus, and other elements from her environment. Her precise and detailed approach in batik hinted at the extraordinary talent that would soon emerge on canvas.

In 1988, at the age of 78, Kngwarreye made a significant shift from batik to acrylic painting. This transition marked the beginning of an incredible period of creativity, where she produced over 3,000 paintings in just eight years, an astonishing output that averaged nearly one painting per day. Her decision to move to canvas was partly driven by the physical demands of batik, which required boiling and re-boiling fabrics, a task that became increasingly challenging as she aged.

Kngwarreye’s paintings, often created by sitting cross-legged on large sections of canvas spread on the ground, captured the essence of her homeland. Her works are characterised by vibrant colours, intricate patterns, and a deep connection to the stories and landscapes of Alhalkere. Her style evolved over time, from traditional dot painting to more abstract forms, but always with a strong connection to her cultural heritage.

One of her most famous works, "Anwerlarr Anganenty" ("Big Yam Dreaming"), created in 1995, stands as a monumental tribute to the yam, a central motif in her art. This massive canvas, measuring over eight meters by nearly three meters, exemplifies her ability to convey the spiritual and physical significance of her environment through art.

Emily Kame Kngwarreye’s art transcends the boundaries of time and culture. Her works have been exhibited in prestigious galleries worldwide, including the Venice Biennale and the National Gallery of Australia. She has been celebrated for her ability to convey the deep spiritual connection of her people to the land, a connection that resonates across cultures and continents.

In 1992, Kngwarreye was awarded an Australian Artist's Creative Fellowship by Prime Minister Paul Keating, a recognition of her extraordinary contribution to Australian art. Her paintings have been the subject of major retrospectives, including the landmark exhibition "Utopia: The Genius of Emily Kame Kngwarreye," which travelled to Japan from Australia, drawing international acclaim.

Her legacy continues to inspire new generations of artists and art lovers alike. In 2023, a major retrospective at the National Gallery of Australia, co-curated by Aboriginal curators Kelli Cole and Hetti Perkins, focused on Kngwarreye’s profound connection to Country, community, and ancestral knowledge. The exhibition aimed to reframe her work within the context of ancient Aboriginal art practices, highlighting the deep cultural roots of her seemingly modern abstract style.

Emily Kame Kngwarreye’s life and art are a testament to the power of cultural expression and the universal language of creativity. From the remote Utopia community to the global stage, her work continues to speak to the heart of what it means to be connected to the land, to history and to each other.

25 September 2000 - Cathy Freeman Won Olympic Gold

Cathy Freeman's gold medal victory in the 400 metres at the 2000 Sydney Olympics is one of the proudest moments in Australian history. This achievement wasn't just about athletic excellence; it represented a powerful symbol of unity, resilience and the journey toward reconciliation for Australia's Indigenous people.

Born on 16 February 1973, Cathy Freeman, a proud Aboriginal woman of the Kuku-Yalanji and Birri-Gubba peoples, rose to international fame as a sprinter specialising in the 400 metres. Her athletic prowess was evident from a young age, and by 16, she had already become the first Indigenous Australian to win a Commonwealth Games gold medal in 1990.

Freeman’s career was marked by a series of incredible achievements, including silver at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics and gold at the 1997 and 1999 World Championships. But it was the 2000 Sydney Olympics that cemented her place in history.

The Sydney Olympics were a momentous occasion for Australia, and as the nation’s eyes were fixed on the global stage, Cathy Freeman was chosen to light the Olympic Flame during the opening ceremony, a profound acknowledgment of her status as a national icon and a symbol of hope for Indigenous Australians.

Freeman’s journey to the 400-metre final was laden with pressure. She carried the weight of a nation’s expectations, not just as a sportswoman but as a symbol of the struggle for Indigenous recognition and rights. The race itself was breathtaking. Running with her characteristic grace and determination, Freeman crossed the finish line in 49.11 seconds, winning the gold medal and securing her place in the annals of international sport.

However, it was what happened after the race that truly resonated with Australians and people worldwide. In her victory lap, Freeman draped herself in both the Australian and Aboriginal flags, a poignant and defiant act of unity. This moment was powerful and symbolic, representing the merging of her identity as both an Australian and an Indigenous woman. The image of Freeman carrying the flags became a defining symbol of reconciliation and the ongoing journey toward equality and recognition for Indigenous Australians.

Freeman’s gold medal was more than just an athletic triumph; it was a victory for every Indigenous Australian who had faced and overcome adversity. It was a testament to the strength, resilience and spirit of a people who had endured generations of marginalisation.

Freeman's victory at the Sydney Olympics became a catalyst for conversations about race, identity and the need for greater reconciliation between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians.

In the years that followed, Freeman has continued to inspire through her work with the Cathy Freeman Foundation, now Murrup, which aims to close the education gap between Indigenous and non-Indigenous children. Her legacy extends far beyond the track, as she remains a beacon of hope, symbolising the power of sport to bring about social change.

Cathy Freeman’s gold medal at the 2000 Sydney Olympics will forever be remembered as a moment when Australia came together, celebrating not just a sporting hero but the ongoing journey toward reconciliation and recognition of its Indigenous peoples.

25 September 2008 - The "E S 'N*gger' Brown Stand" in Toowoomba was demolished.

On September 25, 2008, the city of Toowoomba in Queensland took a significant step toward confronting a painful chapter in its history with the demolition of the "E S 'N*gger' Brown Stand" at a local sports venue.

This action marked the end of a long-standing controversy surrounding the grandstand’s racially insensitive name, a relic of the blatant and unrepentant racism that permeated Australian society.

The grandstand was named after Edwin Stanley Brown, a prominent local rugby league player, who had been given the nickname "N*gger" Brown, a term that was reflective of the deep-seated ignorance and vulgarity of white Australian attitudes of the time. For decades, this name was in public view on the grandstand, with little regard for the harm it inflicted on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities.

Over the years, there were numerous calls to change the name due to its offensive and racist connotations. However, these calls were met with significant resistance from many community members, who argued that the name was tribute to Brown’s sporting achievements. This defence of the name highlighted the entrenched nature of racial insensitivity in Australia, where the harm caused by racist language was often dismissed or minimised.

Aboriginal activists, recognising the deeply offensive nature of the name, mounted a legal challenge in an attempt to force Toowoomba to change it. Despite their efforts, the Federal Court dismissed the case, and subsequent appeals were also rejected. In a shocking display of indifference, High Court Justice Mary Gaudron compared the offensive term to "pinky" on a cement mixer, trivialising the derogatory nature of the word. Justice Gaudron’s rejection of the argument that there was a link between the "n*gger" sign and racism underscores the widespread denial of racism that persisted at the time.

However, as society evolved and the derogatory nature of the nickname became increasingly unacceptable, pressure mounted to address the issue. The demolition of the "E S 'N*gger' Brown Stand” in 2008 was part of a broader redevelopment of the sports venue, but it also became an opportunity to right a historical wrong.

John McDonald, then chairman of the Toowoomba Sports Ground Trust, initially suggested that while the stand would be demolished, the offensive term might still be used on a plaque or statue at the new facility.

This proposal sparked outrage and led to the intervention of then Queensland Sports Minister Judy Spence, who took a firm stand against the use of the racist term in any form. Minister Spence made it clear that perpetuating the use of such a word would be entirely inappropriate, stating, "I do not want the next generation of Queenslanders thinking that using the word n*gger is acceptable."

After further discussions, Mr. McDonald agreed that the term would not be used in the new facilities, marking a significant victory for those advocating for racial sensitivity and respect.

The decision to remove any reference to the offensive term was not just about updating a sports venue; it was a necessary step in acknowledging and confronting the casual racism that had been normalised in Australia for so long.

The controversy surrounding the "N*gger" Brown Stand is a stark reminder of the challenges that remain in confronting and dismantling racism in Australia. While the demolition of the stand and the decision to avoid using the offensive term in the new facilities were positive steps forward, they also highlighted the resistance to change and entrenched prejudices that still exist.

This episode in Toowoomba’s history serves as an important lesson in the ongoing struggle for a more inclusive and respectful society. It underscores the need for continued vigilance in challenging racist language and attitudes, and the importance of creating public spaces that honour all members of the community with dignity and respect.  

As Australia continues to grapple with its colonial past and its impact on Indigenous and minority communities, the story of the "N*gger" Brown Stand reminds us that the fight against racism is far from over.  

September, therefore, stands as a powerful month in Australian history, a time of reflection on past injustices and a celebration of the resilience, creativity, and achievements of Indigenous Australians.