Do you know the significance of a possum-skin cloak?
For thousands of years First Nations people in the south-eastern states of Australia wore the garment for warmth. They were also used for baby carriers, drums in ceremony, birthing and for burial.
Now the cloak is enjoying a renaissance as a symbol of First Nations culture worn by Indigenous leaders at special events and in parliament.
But the regal-looking gown is so much more than an art trend or fashion item.
Its revival is part of a women's movement reclaiming Indigenous culture and identity, according to Walbunja elder Aunty Loretta Parsley.
"It's about telling stories on country, passing on that knowledge," Ms Parsley said.
"It's about owning our identity about who we are and what country we come from. We belong here, we're descendants of the First Australians."
On Dharawal Country, on the south-coast of New South Wales, Aunty Loretta is standing in front of an enormous possum skin cloak, suspended from the roof of Bundanon art gallery.
"You can see the seashells, the connection to the saltwater people," she explained.
"The stingray, the fish, the whales through their migration, and the black swan … we call him a Gunyung in Dhurga language. [There is] so much knowledge etched in that possum-skin cloak."
History and culture etched into cloaks
Last September, Aunty Loretta Parsley led a group of 10 Aboriginal women over a one-week residence at the Bundanon cottages, to create a sacred possum-skin cloak.
Possums are a protected species in Australia, so skins are ethically sourced from New Zealand where the creatures are still considered a pest.
The back of the cloak is the soft, dark fur of 40 possums.
Multiple bushy tails dangle from the gown's trim.
The interior leather hide reveals intricate etchings of artwork and patterns using ochres, wattle and burners.
Like an American patchwork quilt, a possum-skin cloak is an assemblage of personal stories, Ms Parsley explained.
Each skin features iconography which symbolises culture, survival, and shared history.
"You got stories from this area, people have put their totems on there," Ms Parsley said.
"They put their connection to land. They put up their symbols that reflect who they are, whether they live by the sea and also the bush."
A long-standing history
East-coast First Nations people traditionally used kangaroo sinew to sew the possum skins together and etched patterns on with a sharp bone, shell or other natural tool.
Communities wrapped babies in small cloaks, and as they grew older and bigger, more possum skin was added.
But as the British colony expanded across New South Wales and assimilation practices were enforced, things started to change.
Gunai woman and author Kirli Saunders said research showed how possum-skin cloaks became part of the economy around the time of colonisation.
"They were so warm and wanted that the English would purchase them, putting money or resources back into the Aboriginal community," she said.
Ms Saunders explained that once the Aboriginal community started to benefit from the cloak trade, the authorities criminalised the creation of cloaks.
"The cultural practice was disrupted because of profit and economy and the possibility of equality," she said.
It is believed that the government replaced the cloaks with woollen blankets, a substandard substitute for a wet winter on the east coast, resulting in many Aboriginal people dying of common European cold and flus.
"[It was] part of the eradication of a culture, the genocide," Ms Parsley said.
"But the most exciting thing for us is we're renewing the culture all the time through producing beautiful possum-skin cloaks. It's how we can let people know that our culture is alive and well."
Ms Saunders joined Aunty Loretta on the Possum Skin Cloak Project to learn more about her culture from the senior custodian.
"It was a really nurturing place to continue our matrilineal lines and to repatriate practices which have been kept from us," she said.
Passing down culture through generations
Ms Parsley's contemporary replica of an ancient garment is a homage to her ancestors and a gift to the young people in the Yuin community — the passing down of knowledge to the next generation.
"I put my hand on there with the two hands of my grandchildren because they go to a small school that doesn't have a lot of Aboriginal children," she said.
"I want that cultural immersion for them forever in their lives.
"We're teaching them their culture. And they're little blonde-haired, blue-eyed kids, but skin colour doesn't matter. It's about the cultural sense of belonging."
Very few possum-skin cloaks made before 1900 are on display in museums.
But Mr Parsley's creation will join Bundanon's art collection, ensuring it gets enjoyed for years to come, the gallery's chief executive Rachel Kent says.
"It will have a life within the organisation," she said.
"It will have different opportunities to be exhibited and learned from."
For custodian Loretta Parsley, seeing her cloak on display for the Australian public to enjoy has been a healing journey.
"Those stories are very, very much a part of our survival," she said.
"It's very comforting because our team effort has pulled it together of a people who have survived for thousands of years."
