We Live It Daily: Stories of Discrimination, Stigma, Harassment and Racism

Lindy says: 

Racism is alive and thriving in Australia. We Aboriginal people, we feel like victims in our own country. And being a user as well, well it's a double whammy. It's the stereotype, isn't it. They don't bother to ask us about ourselves. It is so great that Users News is asking us what is going on and what it is like to be Aboriginal. I gotta say, I love being Aboriginal, but it's hard sometimes putting up with the discrimination. We are a people who are proud to be who we are, and we are sick of people thinking being Aboriginal is a negative when it means so much to us. Don't use us to sell Australia to tourists then treat us like shit! We get served last everywhere we go, can't get a cab, have the coppers on us 24/7, get bad treatment in hospitals. Australians think they're not racist, but it goes so deep. I think we should have pages in every edition of Users News so people can see what is important to us and who we are. 

Locky says: 

It's all very well for politicians to get up there and say sorry for the stolen generation, but you can't say all that then not change things.  

Neil says: 

I get picked up by the police even if I go down the street to buy milk. I don't like being out on the street after dark, because they'll pick me up, question me. I don't have to be looking dodgy, just walking along, being a black man. 

Katrina says: 

You get sick of being knocked back for work. I want to work. They see you're Aboriginal and a user, and that's it. 

Kyle says: 

When you're Aboriginal you are never under cover. You are watched all the time. By the police. In a shop. On public transport. Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, you are on show. White friends say to me they can't believe how they get eyeballed when they are with me. I say, well I get it all the time, imagine that. I can't even find a quiet corner to scratch my arse in private, everyone wants to watch.  

Tracey says: 

It annoys me how we can't get cabs. It's not just one or two cab drivers, it's all of them. Even if we have money in our hands waving it. They just don't like to pick us up. My daughter is quite dark, so I have to hide her. I hate doing it, but she is very practical, she says, that's just how it is. But it's humiliating. 

Croc's story: 

Where I live in rural NSW, if you use drugs (any sort) or you are black, you don't fit in. People think that because you are black, or a crim and use drugs, that you are dumb. Well I'm not. I have a University degree and a resume to match - I've worked in different Aboriginal services and government bodies. Education is the key to life!   

They sent me to jail heaps of times. The jails are racist, everyone is put in their yards, by their race. This alone causes a lot of friction. In the old days we were one, and stood as one. The jail system is fucked, old hat and needs to change!!  

Drugs are everywhere and as soon as we legalize them, the better off society will be - we could start with pot. I have been done recently for both pot and Endone® and got slammed large fines — Aboriginal people seem to get fined more and get longer sentences for the same crimes that others do. I am sick of bad treatment by police. Once I had a seizure in the Police Station and the cop gave me a serve, while I was having the seizure. They didn't even give me any medical attention. When the Aboriginal Legal Service asked for the CTV footage, guess what? It had disappeared. Trust nobody, the system sucks! 

Letitia's story: 

I get sick of being searched all the time. Every day sometimes. I have a curfew and I got locked up last night because I came out at 3:00 am just to buy a packet of cigarettes because I ran out. I wasn't looking for trouble.  My curfew is 7:00 pm, I can't go out after that. They just stick their noses in, they want to know everything I'm doing every second of every day. But last night it wasn't that they knew who I was. I was just black and out on the streets and they started questioning me. Then because they found out I broke my curfew, I spent the night in jail. 

May's story 

I get a lot of infections in my legs from injecting. A while ago it was really bad, one of my legs was really infected. There was a lot of pus and really hard balls and all red, very painful. I could hardly walk on it. I was worried about losing my leg. It got really bad one night, so about 3:00 am I went to the hospital to Emergency. I'd packed a bag with nighties, toiletries, pictures of my children, all that, ready for a stay. I knew it wasn't right. The hospital I went to said I wasn't on their computers and my Medicare card was invalid, they implied I should leave. I know I had been there before, but they just didn't want me there. And I'm Aboriginal, did they think I might not be a valid Australian citizen? They agreed to see me eventually, but the doctor hardly looked at my leg. He just gave me a prescription for pain killers and sent me away. They think you're there for drugs, even if you're dying. 

I went to get it filled next morning. The chemist just looks at me, with a smile on his face: "May, where did you get this from?". I told him "I went to the hospital and the doc gave it to me". That's when the chemist tells me "May, it's not even valid. The doctor hasn't put how many milligrams I'm supposed to give you and he hasn't signed it. Did you find this?". I was so angry. I feel like it's written somewhere not to believe me, not to help me. They just say it's self-inflicted, and yes they're right, but that doesn't mean they don't have to help me. I was being so nice, so polite, "Yes sir, thank you sir". I've still got that script. It's horrible. People like me can't do anything about it.  

I ended up in another hospital for three months with that leg. I was there for all that time because they cut a nerve in it and I ended up with dropfoot. I wanted to complain but they told me that I wouldn't be believed, they would say it wasn't them, it was because of the drugs I take. And I think that's true. No-one believes people like me against people in the hospital system. 

Stella's story: 

I was in hospital because I'd had a road accident and had broken bones. They wouldn't give me pain killers, only methadone. I told them I wasn't using opiates at the time, I was using ice. But because I'd been in there on methadone before, that was all they'd give me. There was a white girl across from me and they were dosing her with morphine. The nurses would say really loudly "Would you like some more morphine?". I'm sure they just did it to piss me off. They didn't even take my temperature or blood pressure or anything. The white patients got all this treatment, but my papers at the end of my bed were blank, there was nothing on them. So the hospital and I have an agreement now. They treat me like shit, then the last day I'm there I treat them like shit, so they get Security to escort me out! 

Daria's story: 

There was a time when we got pulled up at least twice a week. My father had died and left me some money, so I bought a nice VZ Commodore, a black one. We used to get pulled up so often. And it wasn't "Can I see your licence, sir?"or "Blow in the bag", it was "Who owns this car?". That would be their first question. When I said I owned it, they even asked me where I got the money for that. I'd be "You're joking aren't you?". They'd be "I work really hard and I can't afford something like this." I'd say "Well my father worked really hard to leave me this money." My father was a hard worker all his life. But it wasn't any of their business anyway. They'd have us out in the rain, with our little girl on the street, and go over the car. Once we had a nephew with us, he was just little, and he said to my partner "Uncle Darryl, is this because we're black? It is, isn't it?". Out of the mouths of babes. Because he was right, they would never stop a white family in a car like that.  They would never have had white people's kids out on the street like that. Their discrimination just wouldn't have them believe black people could own a nice car. But it went against them when we were using a lot and doing earns. I'm lighter skinned and my partner is dark. So if we were in a shop or whatever, they would watch him and leave me free to do the crime. We used their own beliefs against them.  

Louise's story: 

The last Mardi Gras, my boyfriend and I were riding our pushbikes, going out to party. His bike was a bit rusty but mine was pretty nice. I'm not into bikes, it was a gift. We're riding past the park and I notice two things at once: a detective's car parked across the way and a fight going on in the park, two white fellas punching on with some people watching.  Next minute, the cops hit the siren and I think, ok, they're going to break up the fight! Instead, I hear them yelling at me across the way:  "Smith, jump off your bike!" I'm thinking, shit, these guys are killing each other and you want me to jump off my bike? Talk about priorities! One cop comes over and goes "Where did you get your bike from, Smith?" I'm totally caught off guard, I'm dumbfounded. I ask why we're having this chat. He points to the other copper, who's a female and goes "Because she's got one". I still haven't worked out what was going on. I said "It was a gift from a sistergirl friend." He said "Do you have a receipt for it?" and I say "it was a present!". It goes on like this for a while; I was just stunned and he was really insistent. All the time these blokes are still punching on a few metres from us, a really full-on fight. I point this out and the copper goes, "We'll get to them in a minute." Then he says "It's fucking specialised, this bike." I still didn't get it. I'm like, "So? I'm just trying to get to Mardi Gras". He says "I don't think you'll be making it to the Mardi Gras tonight.". I say "Why officer, what have I done wrong?"and he went back to :"Where did you get your bike from?". He takes about 20 photos. Then he says, "I'll put it to you like this Louise Smith. You're fucking Aboriginal, you live in housing commission, you're on the fucking dole, how can you afford this bike?" He told me I had to go to the police station the next day to produce a receipt. They just couldn't believe an Aboriginal person could have something nice that was legit.