The Duality of My Identity

I need to preface this with the fact that what I am writing about is my experience and my experience alone. I realise that I cannot speak on this issue for anyone but myself. All I have set out to do is pen down my own set of circumstances and experiences.

My Indigenous identity is something I have struggled with a lot. Constantly trying to figure out exactly where I fit in the whole spectrum of things. I have watched as my siblings have confidently spoken on issues where I have felt like it is not my place. I do not want to be that person anymore. I am hoping this is a step in the right direction.

I am eight years old sitting at a long white desk.

There are about 15 other kids sitting in the same room at the same desks staring at the same piece of paper as me.

All we have to do is fill out the front page for a practice test for our Year 3 NAPLAN.

I fill out my full name. Tiana Michelle Smyth.

I stare at the only other section that needs to be filled out. It asks me if I am an Aboriginal or a Torres Strait Islander, and if I am not then to move on. Simple, right?

I pause for a moment. Not quite sure how to answer. I know my mum is an Islander, but I also know my dad is very white. I look at my own white skin. My eight-year-old self does not know how to answer.

My hand shoots up into the air. The teacher walks over, and I ask the question, “Should I tick this box?”

No one knows, so they call my mum.

There is no resolution, and they tell me to leave it blank.

This is the first time I remember being confused about my identity.

A couple years later at the same school, we are learning about Australian history. I am 13 years old. The teacher points right at me and says, “Back then Tiana would’ve been called a half-caste.”

The whole class turns and looks at me waiting for a response.

I do not know what to say and my face begins to burn with embarrassment.

Everybody starts to laugh, and I laugh with them, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

It’s moments like these that the confusion and shame at my own discomfort and not knowing is most noticeable.

This is what it feels like to grow up as a young Indigenous girl who also happens to be white.

It’s almost like I have to prove myself to be a legitimate Islander. As though my ancestors blood running through my veins isn’t proof enough.

It’s being told that I speak “too white” to be black.

It’s hearing people say ignorant things like, “You’re indigenous?! Man, I wish I was Indigenous. You guys get everything.”

It’s hearing people close to you yell, white lives matter to a peaceful protest fighting for my brothers and sisters. Asking for justice for my people.

It’s explaining to new people I meet that “Yes, I am a Torres Strait Islander and my skin can still be this colour.”

It’s people I’ve known for years saying, “You’re not really an Islander, you can’t be look at you.”

It’s telling people my sister got a scholarship to Bond University and they say, “Oh that’s great. It’s awesome how many extra opportunities you guys get.”

Essentially wiping away the hours and hours of hard work and dedication she put in to get to that point.

Yes, she is a proud and successful Torres Strait Islander. But more than anything she is just a successful, hardworking person.

It’s watching on at a self-checkout as the attendant repeatedly assumes my mother is stealing based solely on the colour of her skin.

It’s going through the same checkout being smiled at by the same lady because the colour of my skin offers me more privilege than my mother has been afforded.

It’s having people tell us, “Oh your mum is one of the good ones.”

It’s people feeling like they can divulge their opinions of my people as though the colour of my skin will incline me to agree with them.

It’s having Scottish and Indigenous grandparents who I love and that love me dearly.

It’s having a whole mob of relatives, so many that I couldn’t put a number to it.

It’s feeling like I have to choose sides, like I need to be one or the other and I can’t be both.

It’s coming from a long line of women (brown, black and white) that empower me to be an educated, strong and independent woman.

It’s feeling like a fraud on both sides.

It’s two worlds colliding inside of me and I can’t quite grasp how to balance the two.

It’s feeling like I have to somehow give an answer to anyone and everyone who wants to know about how “mixed” I am.

It’s having two parents from different cultures and backgrounds, who are both great people.

Parents that have given me love and a stable family.

It’s hearing people make comments on my experience when they will never know what it is like to be me.

My identity doesn’t confuse me as much as it once did.

I have great family around me - both immediate and extended.

I am a proud Torres Strait Islander. I am also proud of my Scottish heritage.

Someday, I hope, I can say this without having to explain myself.