I can’t lay claim to being a Stolen Child. However, I married a Stolen Child. Although he wasn’t indigenous, he grew up in orphanages with First Australians. I’d be honoured if a First Australian acknowledged the vast population of Stolen Children who were not indigenous. Until such acknowledgement takes place, the other Forgotten ones and their families remain lone voices crying in the wilderness.
We’re like Trump’s Middle Americans. Nobody listens to us, or even knows about us. We have to re-tell our stories every time we encounter a new professional; they can’t tell, looking at us, why we’re marginalised.
I’ve long since given up on the struggle to persuade others of the damage that fracturing families will do, especially when that killing blow is delivered by the State, with God looking on approvingly.
It’s coming up to seven years since the sudden death of Lew Blayse. We only found out afterwards that he’d been sexually abused along with the other abuse he suffered in the Homes. In a couple of years it will be the 20th anniversary of the 4Corners program The Homies, in which Lew featured. It’s over 30 years since we started Formerly In Children’s Homes (FICH), which in case anyone cares, became Incorporated in Queensland in 1991.
When I talk about ForgottenAustralianFamilies with the three words combined as one, I acknowledge, at least to myself and the only one of my children who still talks to me, that our difference was caused by Child Removal of our Husband and Father.
As Christmas approaches I know I still won’t get to meet my grandchild, or hear from other family who for reasons best known to themselves, have placed me and mine in the too hard basket. We stopped doing Christmas after Lew died. While he was alive it was always such a big production; it was as if by pretending to be a happy family we could fool ourselves for a while.
So to other Forgotten ones and their families, I send seasons greetings, and hope that a small act of kindness will brighten your day.