Latest news with #Quandamooka
SBS Australia
6 days ago
- Business
- SBS Australia
One of Australia's first Indigenous models behind modern day women's business event
Pauline Lampton, centre, at the Black, Bold and Beautiful event, which champions female First Nations entrepreneurs and fashion. Credit: Aunty Sandra King is a trailblazer in First Nations modelling and fashion. In the 1970s the proud Quandamooka and Bundjalung woman became one of Australia's first Aboriginal fashion models and was booked extensively for editorial fashion articles and parades, as well as numerous clothing and manufacturing businesses. After her modelling career, Aunty Sandra moved behind the scenes directing, managing and presenting Indigenous events, fashion parades, modelling training and community programs. In 2009 Aunty Sandra founded Black, Bold and Beautiful, with a vision of creating a space where Aboriginal women could be seen, celebrated, and supported. 'BBB is the grounds for our women, the modern era of women's business,' Aunty Sandra said. 'It's about showing our young women what's possible and reminding the world of the strength and beauty in our culture.' Over the years the gala has evolved into more than just a fashion event, which this year was held at the Brisbane Convention and Exhibition Centre, earlier this month. It showcases the work of First Nations designers and entrepreneurs, highlighting businesses from across Queensland led by women. The annual luncheon has become a cornerstone of the celebration, offering a space to honour the vital roles Aboriginal women play in their communities, as leaders, creatives, business owners and changemakers. It's also a chance for attendees to connect with and support Indigenous-run businesses, many of which are forging new paths in fashion, arts, health, education and more. 'The industry is changing very slowly, but when I started, there wasn't many Aboriginal models and to do full time, it was unheard of,' Aunty Sandra said. 'Now we see it. We see a lot more Aboriginal models, and we see a lot more events happening now, which is great. "I'm hitting 70 next year, so I don't know which way I'm going, but I won't be retiring." Interviews and feature reports from NITV. A mob-made podcast about all things Blak life. The Point: Referendum Road Trip Live weekly on Tuesday at 7.30pm Join Narelda Jacobs and John Paul Janke to get unique Indigenous perspectives and cutting-edge analysis on the road to the referendum. Watch now
West Australian
06-06-2025
- Entertainment
- West Australian
Yirra Yaakin Theatre Company presents Wesley Enoch and Deborah Mailman's The 7 Stages Of Grieving in Subiaco
Powerful Aboriginal Australia story The 7 Stages Of Grieving has become a theatrical classic over the past 30 years as a way for directors to showcase their skills and shine a light on a talented actor in the sole role of narrator. While the one-woman play written by Wesley Enoch and Deborah Mailman may not have originated with such lofty ambition, it is nonetheless an incredible honour for the close friends who met during their days at Queensland University of Technology. 'We were looking for a project to do together and then my grandmother died,' 56-year-old Enoch says, a proud Quandamooka man from Stradbroke Island (Minjerribah). 'When I was explaining to Deborah the grief ritual that my family undertakes, she said 'That might be what we need to make the show on' and off we went from there.' Presented by Kooemba Jdarra Indigenous Performing Arts, The 7 Stages Of Grieving first premiered in Brisbane in 1995 with Enoch directing Mailman as she stood alone on stage tracing the seven phases of Aboriginal history — Dreaming, Invasion, Genocide, Protection, Assimilation, Self-Determination and Reconciliation. 'We were so caught up in it and didn't even know what it was,' Enoch shares. 'But there's a story I tell about opening night where this elder stood up clapping and then walked down the stairs to the stage, walked onto the stage and grabbed Deborah, hugging her, crying. There was this moment where we went, 'Oh, we've done something more than just make a show here'. 'As a country in 1995, we were on this journey of reconciliation. There was a sense of hope, a sense of what would go forward, but then a very complex sense of 'What do we leave behind? What do we grieve for in our history, that needs to be told?' It's interesting now, after the referendum in particular, we're in this moment of saying 'Actually we're engaged in truth-telling'. We're trying to tell the truth, and the best way to tell the truth is by telling the stories of our families.' Yirra Yaakin Theatre Company is presenting a 30th anniversary season of The 7 Stages Of Grieving with the WA premiere featuring an all-female team of creatives, as director Bobbi Henry works with actors Shontane Farmer and Shahnee Hunter performing as narrator in alternating shows. Enoch will be in Perth for Yirra Yaakin's opening night, the play coinciding with a writers' retreat here for another he is working on, and visiting his long-term and long-distance partner, WA Ballet guest artistic director David McAllister. The playwright defines the production as a collection of stories that has an accumulative emotional impact on an audience. It features a series of 23 vignettes to express the grief, but also the joy, of being Aboriginal in this country. 'Someone told me that what makes it a classic is that it's open to interpretation and open to people finding their own way through it,' he says. 'Deborah and I have always been open to allowing productions to shift the order of scenes and keep it alive for the now, because what was right 30 years ago, may not be right now. 'When I look back over my body of work, I am fascinated by women and fascinated by women's perspectives on stories, even though I'm a man. This notion of how women see the world differently. There's a toughness in women that also goes hand in hand with a vulnerability. Not to say men can't do that, but there's something about watching a woman go through the emotional highs and lows and the anger of it, it says something about our history and the resilience of women.' Enoch's own anger as a young man, resulting in violent and antisocial behaviours as a tween, is what led him to find the therapeutic benefits of the arts, discovering a release through storytelling. 'I found that the art could actually heal me, and by telling my story, I could actually help others,' he adds. Starting out as an actor, he soon discovered he did not respond well to the required repetition, something he takes his hat off to other actors for, especially Mailman who toured in The 7 Stages Of Grieving sporadically for six years. 'I remember her saying at one point, 'I don't know if I can cry anymore' and I said, 'Oh, you're an actor, you'll find a way', but there's something in going over that emotional territory where I'd rather be moving on to the next thing,' Enoch says. 'I love Deborah. We use the word 'love' flippantly, but there is such a deep bond and love for that woman, and I am so happy for all of her success. 'I'm incredibly grateful for 7 Stages. I call it 'the ambassador piece' . . . it gave me every other job for the next 10 years.' The 7 Stages Of Grieving is at Subiaco Arts Centre, July 3 to 12. Tickets at
ABC News
22-05-2025
- Business
- ABC News
First Nations group raises concerns about shipping channel project, Port of Brisbane denies wrongdoing
The Port of Brisbane has been accused of breaching its obligations under federal guidelines by failing to engage with a local Aboriginal group over its plan to dredge Moreton Bay. The port has denied any wrongdoing, saying it did engage with First Nations groups, but was not required to undertake formal consultation at this early stage. The Minjerribah Moorgumpin Elders in Council (MMEIC) represent members of the Quandamooka people of North Stradbroke and Moreton Island. The group has raised significant concerns about a proposal by the Port of Brisbane to dredge 96.5 million cubic metres of material out of Moreton Bay to create a wider and deeper freight passage for ships. The bay is crucial to the physical and spiritual wellbeing of the Quandamooka people, as it has been for millennia, and MMEIC is worried the churning of the seabed and dumping of waste material has the potential to harm fragile ecosystems and cultural sites. "Development proposals for the bay must be transparent and give Quandamooka, and all traditional owner groups that rely on the bay, enough time to have our concerns heard and understood. "This didn't happen with this proposal." Port of Brisbane's Channel Enhancement Project is a 25-year plan to widen and deepen the existing navigational channels leading into the port. The company said the $3.5 billion project is crucial to ensuring the country's third largest container port can cater for future shipping needs, which is likely to include much larger vessels. If approved, the work will involve using a Trail Hopper Suction Dredge to "vacuum up" sea floor material to be deposited in what are known as dredge material placement areas (DMPA). There are currently no DMPA large enough to support the millions of cubic metres of material involved in this project, and so the company expects it will need to create a new site in the bay. MMEIC spokesperson Pereki Ruska said the Quandamooka people are worried about the health of local fisheries, the seagrass beds relied upon by animals such as the dugong, and important cultural sites. "The Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act (EPBC Act) acknowledges that First Nations groups have a right to be fully engaged in those processes, projects and activities that may impact the bay. "Especially things like the proposed expansion project." Given the potential for environmental damage, and the proximity to protected areas within Moreton Bay, the Port of Brisbane referred the proposal to the federal Department of Climate Change, Energy, the Environment and Water (DCCEEW) for assessment under the EPBC Act in August 2024. As part of the referral process, proponents are required to consult with impacted First Nations groups. In its referral documents, the Port of Brisbane told DCCEEW it had "already undertaken significant stakeholder consultation on this project … including with relevant Indigenous stakeholders and government departments". "Feedback from this initial engagement has provided overall broad recognition and acceptance of the project rationale and assessment processes to be undertaken," it said at the time. MMEIC said it was not approached by the Port of Brisbane before this document was lodged, and did not speak with officials until months afterwards. The Port of Brisbane said its consultation with Indigenous people came through discussions with another Aboriginal group that represents Quandamooka people, the Quandamooka Yoolooburrabbee Aboriginal Corporation (QYAC). "[Port of Brisbane] met with QYAC, the prescribed body corporate under the Native Title Act, who are responsible under that legislation for managing the native title rights and interests of the Quandamooka People following the determination of 4th July, 2011," a spokesperson said. "QYAC is also the cultural heritage body for the Quandamooka Estate in accordance with the State Aboriginal Cultural Heritage Act 2003." However, MMEIC and QYAC are just two of several Aboriginal groups in the region. "[QYAC] are not and have not always been representative of all Quandamooka people, and not all Quandamooka families signed off on the authorisation of the Quandamooka claim," Ms Ruska said. In 2022, following the destruction of the 46,000-year-old Juukan Gorge caves by mining giant Rio Tinto, the federal government acknowledged the need for more comprehensive and widespread consultation with Indigenous groups impacted by development or mining. Dr Cohen Hird, a Trawlwoolway man who studies Indigenous rights and respectful engagement with First Nations communities, said the DCCEEW was working on developing a First Nations Engagement Standard. In the meantime, it has released interim standards under the EPBC Act. "The Australian standards say First Nations people should be engaged early and often, from the work put together after the Juukan Gorge incident," Dr Hird said. "All of those people [who are impacted] are considered rights holders, not necessarily just the prescribed body corporate, so it's important to consult widely. "The proponent must initiate that engagement." MMEIC said Port of Brisbane only engaged with them after its elders approached them. It believes the failure to consult with them before lodging their referral to DCCEEW, under the EPBC Act, constitutes grounds for Port of Brisbane to have to re-submit that application. However, Dr Hird said until legally enforceable standards are introduced, the interim guidelines remain largely "aspirational, not enforceable". "I think the interim guidance in the EPBC Act is a step in the right direction, but only if it's followed in practice," he said. In September, both the state and federal government accepted Port of Brisbane's referral and determined the project a "controlled action". The Port of Brisbane said it would now begin the creation of an environmental impact statement. "The port will also need to make a notification to seek formal endorsement of Aboriginal parties for the Channel Enhancement Project to prepare a Cultural Heritage Management Plan," the port said. "Since late last year … Port of Brisbane has met with MMEIC representatives in-person and online and has made offers for project briefings in writing at least six times. MMEIC said the determination of a "controlled action" by the DCCEEW — which means the project's environmental impact statement will be assessed at both a state and federal level — was a significant step, and it should have had the opportunity to speak before it was made. "They're already a number of steps ahead of where we would like them," Ms Ruska said. "And quite frankly, where they should be, had they had followed processes."
NZ Herald
12-05-2025
- NZ Herald
North Stradbroke Island: Minjerribah is the most eye-opening island adventure you've never heard of
Stradbroke Flyer and Sealink both operate 50-odd minute water taxi, passenger, and vehicle ferry services to the island. All depart from Toondah Harbour, Cleveland (on the Brisbane mainland), and go directly to the small port town of Dunwich, North Stradbroke Island. I took the Sealink car ferry because a vehicle is a handy commodity due to the 275.2 sq km island and, once onboard, enjoyed the incredible coastal vistas from the deck. A warm welcome The charming town of Dunwich may be small, but it's packed with personality. It's got everything you'd need, like a health centre and a food mart, as well as cool little cafes and craft shops selling authentic Aboriginal art. One of them is the studio of Quandamooka (the Aboriginal people of Minjerribah) artist Delvene Cockatoo-Collins, who utilises the natural surroundings of her home to create beautiful works based on the traditional art form of her people. Cockatoo-Collins has an impressive resume and an even bigger heart, apparent when we discussed her mission to champion Aboriginal artists and art on the world stage. When walking the streets, don't forget to say hi to the other friendly locals, who are always willing to tell you about the island and what makes it so special. Shack up by the beach Wanting a place just across from the ocean? Look no further than the Allure Stradbroke Resort. A 20-minute drive from Dunwich, the resort's self-contained beach shacks are perfect for those who want to soak up the island vibes. Perfectly situated by the picturesque Cylinder Beach and just shy of the small settlement of Point Lookout, the shacks are walking distance to many dining and shopping options with distinct island flair. My loft-style unit contained everything I needed and more, including a small fully stocked kitchen and outdoor patio with a BBQ. The resort also has an in-house restaurant where you can get a hearty brunch, plus a pool for when the beach is too rough. If you're looking for other great places for a bite (and a brew), don't miss the Stradbroke Hotel up the road for a fantastic night watching the footy, slamming back a delicious prawn pizza, or even dancing the night away because this place knows how to party after dark. The tour of a lifetime In all my years of travelling, I've never had a more authentic and enjoyable tour experience than my one with Elisha, the proud Quandamooka woman behind Yura Tours. Forget the pretentious storytelling and awkward periods of standing around, this was an authentic local adventure of epic proportions from someone who lives and breathes the culture. During the three-hour trek, you'll traverse the island in one of Elisha's hulking utes as she shows you the hidden highlights of the island. We started at the Point Lookout (Berarngutta) walking track, where Elisha explained how her people have lived off the land for generations and picked some plants and herbs for us to try. Any questions, no matter how silly, Elisha answered, and the conversational nature of the tour was a highlight in an unfamiliar territory. After spotting some wild kangaroos and even some beautiful sea turtles, it was time to lunch at the Six Beaches Fish Grill and Bar, a locally owned joint with stellar views of the rugged coast and unbelievably tender grilled snapper. An off-road drive on the seamlessly never-ending Main Beach also saw Elisha run into her brother-in-law, and legendary Aussie bloke collecting black coral for handmade jewellery. Advertise with NZME. We also spotted a sea eagle perched high on a branch as we made our way to the famous Brown Lake (Bummiera). Described as a 'natural day spa,' the melaleuca and tea-tree bushland surrounding the lake has both given it a distinct brown look and blessed it with natural healing properties (think the mud pools in Rotorua-type vibe). Don't skip rubbing the quartz sand on your hands to feel some of the lake's revitalising properties. An ancient midden was our last stop, but a surprise interruption became one of the most incredible things I've ever witnessed. A koala sat stationary in the middle of the road, blocking our path, initially not looking like it was in a good state. In the pouring rain, Elisha and I wrapped it in a jacket and shepherded it off the road until the island's animal team came to take it away for assessment. Sopping wet, but with a full heart and belly, I returned to my shack and reflected on the incredible day. You truly won't get an experience like you do on Straddie anywhere else in the world, so even if just for a day, make sure you break from the big city and give it a go.
The Guardian
31-01-2025
- General
- The Guardian
Patsy Brown thought she'd never see her child again. Until a letter changed her life forever
It was through a cafe window that Patsy Brown finally glimpsed the man she'd thought of every day for 22 years. He pulled up on a motorbike on a busy street in Brisbane's inner-south, removing his helmet to reveal long dark hair and bright blue eyes. This, surely, must be her son. Patsy has rarely spoken about the heart-wrenching circumstances that separated her from her first-born child for two decades, but at 73, she says there is a kind of catharsis that comes from telling her story. 'I thought that opening up might help me,' she says. 'There's still the guilt that lingers. And the regret.' The Quandamooka woman had hoped to give evidence at Queensland's truth-telling and healing inquiry on Minjerribah (North Stradbroke Island) late last year, until the LNP dismantled the process five months after it began. Patsy says she feels as if things are 'going backwards' when it comes to understanding the issues affecting Indigenous people. 'There are people who just don't care,' she says. 'They say 'It's the past, you've got to get over it' … but you can't get over it until you've actually talked about it and had people empathise with you.' Patsy recalls the first meeting with her adult son as she sits in a cushioned wicker chair on the veranda of her home on Minjerribah, off the coast of Brisbane. Her house is surrounded by scrubland, and is a short stroll from the turquoise ocean. The bush is alive with cicadas. A warm breeze carries the scent of eucalyptus along the shaded wooden deck. Patsy built this place a year ago, shortly after returning to the island she grew up on. 'You've got to die on country, you know?' she says. She remembers an idyllic childhood with her 12 younger siblings, bathing in creek water and eating wild fruits and freshly-caught eugaries (pippies) by the light of a kerosene lamp. They grew up at a place called One Mile – named for its distance from the nearest township of Dunwich. This was the era of segregation, when Indigenous people lived under strict controls on missions and reserves, but Patsy didn't know that yet. She would learn about discrimination later in life. She would learn that her father had been taken from his family as a small child and raised in an orphanage, unable to speak about the experience before his death at the age of 46. But perhaps Patsy's harshest lesson would come when she was 20. In 1971, living on the mainland and juggling jobs nannying for a large English family and waiting tables at Brisbane's Treasury Hotel, she became pregnant. Her partner didn't want the baby. She had no savings and her parents still had eight of their own children at home. Unable to see another option, Patsy checked in to the Boothville Mothers' hospital, a maternity home primarily for single women run by the Salvation Army. She decided to put her baby up for adoption, believing the child would be 'better off' with two parents. But she had no idea what awaited her at Boothville. Pregnant, she was put to work in the laundry, cleaning the soiled sheets of the married women. Medical records show Patsy was twice hospitalised with high blood pressure – 'because of the hard work,' she says. On Friday nights the unwed mothers-to-be attended 'Salvationist classes'. 'They said – it's etched in my mind – 'Get down on your knees, you sinners, and ask God for forgiveness',' Patsy recalls. Other women have shared similar stories of being shamed, put to work and traumatised at Boothville while single and pregnant. Around 48 hours in to her labour, as Patsy groaned and panted, she was told: 'Be quiet. Stop making so much noise.' Later, as she held her baby boy, she remembers being awestruck by the little hands. 'That was a picture in my brain all my life. I remember the shape of his hands and his fingers.' The days after the birth passed in a blur. She remembers someone from the child protection department asking her to sign an adoption agreement. After about a week, Patsy went home, leaving her son behind. 'Emotionally and psychologically, there was really no preparation, no discussion about adoption,' she says. 'The question was, 'What are you going to do with your baby? Are you putting your baby up for adoption?' And that was it.' She tried to resume her nannying duties, but felt heartbroken. 'I was just miserable, you know? I was crying all the time,' she says. Encouraged by her employer – who assured her she could keep her job and her baby – Patsy called the hospital two weeks after giving birth, telling the answering nurse she had made a mistake and was coming to collect her son. 'She said, 'Well, it's too late. He's already gone.' Those were her exact words,' she says. Unbeknownst to Patsy, it was not too late. Under the 1964 Queensland Adoption Act, parties could revoke their consent within 30 days of signing an adoption agreement, or before an adoption order was made (whichever came first). Government documents show Patsy's son was born in April, but not officially adopted until October. Patsy now believes this information was deliberately withheld from her. Children were routinely taken from unwed mothers – Indigenous and non-Indigenous – from the 1950s to the 1970s in a practice known as forced adoption. In 2012, a federal inquiry into the practice found information was often withheld from single mothers, including their right to revoke consent for adoptions. Its report mentioned Boothville as an institution where forced adoptions took place. A decade later, the Salvation Army apologised for its role in Australia's forced adoptions policy and the continuing effect it has had. After the birth of her son, a broken-hearted Patsy moved north, living a 'reckless' life before settling down to have two more children: another son, and a daughter. But her first-born was never far from her mind. 'Not a day went by where I didn't think about him,' she says. 'Just looking for him in a crowd, imagining how he might look.' Patsy believes her son would have been about 15 when she opened up about the ordeal to a social worker friend, who told her the crushing news that she had been entitled to change her mind about the adoption. 'It just felt, you know, can my heart take any more?' she says. Legally she had to wait until her son was 21 to receive information about his whereabouts. Even then, it took a year to build up the courage to write a letter to his adoptive parents. 'I was terrified that he might be dead. And then, if he weren't dead, that he might reject me,' she says. Two days later, Patsy got a response: her son, Shannon, was happy to meet. When she greeted him with a quick hug, she felt his body tense. 'Don't worry – I'll get used to it,' he told her. The pair would go on to enjoy barbecues in the park, long phone calls and regular visits as Patsy's eldest son was welcomed into the family fold. For Shannon, meeting his extended family was 'fantastic' – if a little daunting. 'It's a huge family,' he says. 'It was hard to remember all the names. I've had to put them all down on a spreadsheet to keep track.' But in those first tentative moments at a Brisbane cafe, as Patsy Brown grasped for a way to fill a 22-year chasm, one familiar detail brought her comfort. 'I remember touching his hands and holding them and looking at the palms, and then turning them over and looking at his fingers,' she says. They had grown since she last held them, but their shape was just the same.
