'We acknowledge and pay our respect to all the Grandmothers, Mothers, Aunties, Sistas, and Sistergirls, Cuzzies and Tiddas gone before us, those lost too young, and those to come. We love you, your strength, knowledge, humility, grief and anger. Youse are all Most Deadly!
'Shout out to the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander writers and editors who have worked with The Lifted Brow before this, and who held the door open for this edition.
'Running the editorial as a collective for this issue of The Lifted Brow was important for many reasons. Too often as Blakfellas we are expected to work as lone rangers in white corporations and institutions, as the keepers of all knowledge, the go to on every ‘Aboriginal issue’, and the incompetent to lay blame with when things don’t go well. It is expected that we are happy to fit into the individualistic mindset of western capitalism, because you want that job, right? To keep a roof over you and your family’s head, right? To be all white, white?' (Editorial introduction)
'I am a Ngugi Wakka Wakka woman, mother and educator. It is my honour to contribute to the First Nations Issue of The Lifted Brow. As an Aboriginal woman scholar, I write from a positionality that draws on the intimate lived experience of being raised exclusively by Aboriginal parents, grandparents and extended family; an acknowledgement that this life existed in segregation from white peoples in a regional community context and deep understanding of being the first generation to not have been captured on the Mission. It is a positionality that has informed my sense of black politics, my love for education and a deep desire that my work will add strength to realising the objectives of our communities.' (Publication abstract)
'The grey mud creeps up my calves as I pick my way through the mangroves. Barefoot, the thick wetness moves between my toes, suctioning, slowing my movements down, and my thighs sting a little from the walk in the mangroves, something my body isn't used to. I pause for breath, look over to my sister and see she is concentrating on the ground, walking on a drier bit of the mangrove floor, harder and more solid. She bends down and with a so" cry, picks up a crab and chucks him into the white plastic tub she is holding.' (Introduction)
'I will never forget the worst gig I have ever been a part of. It was a few years ago now, and it was supposed to be a major event. When I agreed to take part, I was so proud to do so. Yet when I left that stage, I left it angry and disillusioned. and is gig has since become a benchmark for me of what I will and won't accept - what is respect for my voice and what is not.' (Publication summary)
'I am a woman of the Kulin Nations; a Taungurung Traditional Owner living and working on the lands of the Wurundjeri people. I am an artist and curator, and I create work that allows me to investigate my family stories and connect more deeply with ancestral knowledge and practices. I use hand-crafted and found objects as well as film, photography, movement and language to talk about my experience as a young blak person, which quite often critiques oppressive colonial structures and art norms that don't allow me to move freely in the ways that I wish I could. Curatorially, I investigate ways to create spaces that centre blakness, and challenge the hegemonic ideas of what a gallery or exhibition space is, and what you can do in them.' (Introduction)
'Maria: She is my beloved daughter, my first born. Right from the beginning I watched in wonder how this little girl viewed the world, she would go about her life with wonderment and intent as if there was a purpose in everything she did.' (Publication abstract)
'Blak to the Future began as a concept. A space for young Blak peoples to gather, take up space and create works that are for us by us in an environment that was safe for us to be ourselves.' (Publication abstract)
'The story of co-curating Blak to the Future is and Saturday nights and Saturdays getting to know amazing people, it is the artists themselves as they are, and the stories they tell through the works they create, it is three hundred people crammed into a small gallery, and it is about how the black community comes through for its own. These are important to me, and I refuse to make these things available for your consumption.' (Publication abstract)
'In the foreground of the realistic landscape we can see a mash of buildings leading to the Maribyrnong river. The river is murky with white man's pollution, in stark contrast to the thriving waterway that exists today.' (Publication abstract)
'Binak (pronounced Binuk) means basket in Woiwurrung. This name represents Binak's hard journey in life that is now woven together by culture.' (Publication abstract)
'My name is Mandy. My clan is the Wurundjeri-wilam, within the Wurundjeri-baluk patriline. I am also Dja Dja wurrung, Ngurai illum wurrung, German and Irish. I speak Woiwurrung. I embrace my many Ancestors and my many Grandfathers and Grandmothers, and the Spirit River, Birrarung. I embrace the Below Country, On Country, Water Country, Wind Country, Sky Country and the Forest Country above the clouds, which is Bunjil's home. I embrace my many friends.' (Publication abstract)
