Here we go again. Another racist attack in sport. More white noise telling us this is not who we are. We must do better, racism has no place in our society.
Yes, yes, yes. All well meaning. And we have heard this all before. All the platitudes. All the innocence.
South Sydney's Latrell Mitchell was racially abused by a spectator on Thursday night at a match in Penrith.
The CEO of the National Rugby League, Andrew Abdo, issued a statement saying: "Any form of racism or vilification will not be tolerated in our sport. We will not accept this behaviour from anyone."
Good luck.
There are people in the sport still in prominent positions, commentators or players, who have had to apologise for racist comments they have made in the past.
Not just in rugby league. The AFL has an appalling record of racism, institutional and personal. And yet those in positions of power remain. Still promising to do better.
And what? Until next time. And there will be a next time. And then we will hear it all again.
In the middle of this is a human being. Latrell Mitchell a proud Wiradjuri-Birripai man who has to deal with the hurt, the trauma not just of the violent abuse – because that's what racism is: violent abuse – but of having his name thrown around, being debated, judged, observed.
Then there is his family who have known this hurt all of their lives and now having to relive it all again.
'It has happened to me'
I have hesitated to write this because I don't want to add to his pain. I have hesitated to write this because it seems there is nothing else we can say to make this stop.
If our people being the most imprisoned people in this country is not enough to make white people stop being racist then I don't know what is. If our people dying 10 years younger than everyone else in this country is not enough to make white people stop being racist I don't know what is.
At times like this I wonder what is the point in writing anything that appeals to the better angels of white people because that seems like a fool’s errand. I am writing this only for my people. I hope Latrell forgives the indulgence.
I am writing this because there are kids experiencing this everyday from whom we never get to hear. Kids we never get to hear about.
Racism that happens away from the headlines and never stops.
I am writing because it has happened to my children playing sport.
It happens to my parents.
It has happened to me.
It happened only last year when I was called a n***** loudly to my face by a passer-by while filming out the back of the ABC.
I felt like I had been punched in the face. I felt angry, hurt, confused. And then I cried.
Just last year the head of news, Justin Stevens, in an email to all staff admitted the national broadcaster’s own racism.
People of colour – especially First Nations people – feel as if we fit in more than we belong. My colleagues tell me that all the time. I feel that too.
'I wanted to believe in a fair go'
I am not writing this to make white people understand. I am not writing this expecting it will change anything. I have made the mistake time and again of trying to bridge the divide in our country, in the hope that we can be better and look what keeps happening.
I have wanted to believe in this country's promise of a fair go and look what keeps happening.
Australia's myths work for Australia, they work against us.
This is not who we are. Yes, easy to say. But look closer. It is who you are. How can it not be?
This country was founded on a racist idea that we were barely human. Our land was stolen. Our people were killed.
Racism is written into our constitution. There it is still, in Section 25, a heinous clause that can allow for people to be denied the right to vote on the basis of race.
It is considered inoperative today — called a dead letter clause — because the Racial Discrimination Act prohibits it.
But it still sits there, condemning us.
Section 51:26 says the parliament can make laws for the people of any race.
That is known as the "race power" and it is used to make special laws for my people.
And the Racial Discrimination Act can be set aside to make those laws as the Howard government did in the 2007 Northern Territory Intervention.
I do not belong to a "race". I belong to a people: Wiradjuri, Kamilaroi, Dharrawal people — members of the human race.
Race is a fiction but, as we know, such a lethal one.
Home is an untranslatable space
This is not who we are. We like to say that. But it is who we are.
For much of modern Australia's history we had a policy to keep the country white.
We wonder why a teenager might think it is OK to violently vilify an Aboriginal footballer. We need only look at our history and our law.
It is who we are.
We don’t need to wonder why a teenager might think it is OK to violently vilify an Aboriginal footballer.
Why am I writing at all? I am writing this for my people. To offer what I can to how we might survive. How we might endure.
This year as the nation edges toward a referendum on a Voice to Parliament, I have felt the full weight of this country's history. I know I am not alone in feeling this personally. Like we are being judged.
It doesn't feel just like a vote on a Voice but a vote on us as a people.
This year I have looked away from the headlines. I have stopped reading a lot of the commentary. I don't want that inside me.
If only we could block out racism. But it invades us. We walk through it everyday. It follows us into our places of work.
So I go home. I have gone home even more this year. I spend so much of my time trying to be a translator to explain myself. Home — on country — is the untranslatable space. The place beyond questions. Where I don't need answers.
I am writing this because our people – our kids – who in the face of racism may feel hurt and alone can remember there is strength in us. We can’t wait for white Australia to fix their problem, to do better.
We stand strong together. Like all people we may disagree, we may argue amongst ourselves but I know who my people are. They are where I find home.
Latrell knows that. He represents us and makes us proud. Our kids will draw their strength from him.
He knows that when football is done he has a home; a people. A place of love. A place where he can be safe.
Stan Grant is presenter of Q+A on Mondays at 9.35pm and the ABC's international affairs analyst.
