Your Voice

My interest in pursuing a career in law and subsequently within the academy, didn’t stem from my Aboriginality but it has informed many of my career choices - especially in pursuit of social justice.

However, it was being an Aboriginal person that made me a “late starter”. Let me explain:

I am a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, fair-skinned Aboriginal Australian. Every time I look in the mirror, that’s what I see. Or at least, that’s what I used to see (oh, how I wish I still had hair)! As a child, I grew up expecting everyone to be like me, to look like me – with the blonde hair and blue eyes. Clearly, my naïve ideas about how Aboriginal people were “supposed” to look were wrong. But being Aboriginal and fair and blonde was normal to me and I grew up in a world where I was treated “normally”. Along the way however, I noticed that not everyone was receiving the same brand of treatment and that made me angry. It has taken a while to let go of that anger. Hence the late start.

It is easy to let our selves become slaves to other people’s “labels”. To allow those attributes that are imposed by others to affect how we see our selves and how we want others to see us. It has taken me a long time to realise that I am Aboriginal because of my family, my community and who I am in general. I know now that no one has the power to take that from me.

Growing up with a strong sense of social justice was not something that ever needed to be explained in the abstract. We shared the experiences common to many people from disadvantaged backgrounds and our grandmother was very insistent that all people were treated not just equally, but well. I knew that I was Aboriginal from a very young age although, in our household, Aboriginality was never discussed as being something special or anything less than ordinary. It was just who we were, both as individuals and as a family. I never looked at my family members and thought, “Wow, you look really Aboriginal.” Or, “Gee, you look really white!” And it wasn’t really until I moved out of that environment that any perspective was given to what that difference was or how it made me feel or act.

It took a fair bit of time before I arrived at a point where I could advocate on behalf of other people. It wasn’t because I didn’t care or was disinterested, it was mainly because I couldn’t articulate my own personal issues let alone try to do so on behalf of others. To say that I was incapable of explaining what was happening to me and within me is not really the case. It would be more exact to say that I simply didn’t know what was happening to me. Every human transition from young person to adult, then to more mature adult etc., is a journey. And, impeding my growth from that young person into the adult I wanted to become was the profound issue of identity. I was a “white” black man. Wow, it seems so easy to say and accept now - but god it was hard. I grew up in place where everyone knew I was Aboriginal / part of an Aboriginal family, but the moment I moved outside of that environment, I found I had to constantly explain away that aspect of my identity. It got to the point where I would demand that people knew it. And, not only did they have to be aware of my Aboriginality, they had to accept it.

How do you begin to explain to someone that you have started to question everything you ever believed about yourself because you are required to defend it so often? Believe me I was passionate about defending it, but that type of “passion” always comes at a cost. My insecurities about my identity not only hindered my ability to educate people about the diversity of Indigenous people, but also fed a stereotype associated with minorities that I had always rallied against. I was becoming a victim. I was becoming someone else’s label. To complicate things, I was also struggling with another aspect of my identity - something else which society tries to label and define; I was gay. I found this difficult because I couldn’t relate on any level with the gay stereotype. I mean, I played sport for Christ’s sake!

Around the same time that I was grappling with these concerns, a set of circumstances arose which immediately ignited my desire to have an understanding of the law – to study the law. Like many individuals who grew up in the 70’s and came from a “working family” background, I had never contemplated going to university – not ever. Fortunately for me, I did because it was this further study that led me to ultimately accept who I am and understand "why". It enabled me to question and explore these concepts of identity in a space I’d been struggling to locate elsewhere. I came across texts and anecdotes which validated my quandary and made it into something real and important. It was also wonderfully refreshing to meet and engage with people (from all different backgrounds) who, to my surprise, were experiencing a similar conflict.

Over the years education has continued to unlock “me” for me. I am Mark McMillan and I am a lot more than just a white, black man. Although being Indigenous - or more importantly, a proud Wiradjuri man – is fundamental to my own sense of humanity, I am much more than that dimension. I am also a proud father to a ten year old son. I am also an ‘out and proud’ gay man (yes, my son lives with my partner and me and yes, my ex wife and I are still great friends). I am a good friend. I am a rugby player. I am an active member of my community. I am a son. I am a brother…and a brutha. I am a lawyer (but don’t tell anyone) and, I am now happy, comfortable and confident to say that I am me.