We stand on the truth, and truth can’t be shaken. That kind of truth will never be destroyed.
— Uncle Ray
When boos pierced Uncle Ray Minniecon’s Acknowledgement of Country at an Anzac Day dawn service this year, he remained characteristically calm and drew on the discipline of his military training. As he later explained to press, in moments of conflict or tension, you learn to steady yourself “and just do what you need to do.”
Across the country, similar incidents had taken place during Anzac Day services. For many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, and for many others watching on, the disrespect was confronting, though not totally surprising. A day meant to honour sacrifice had again exposed how easily the service of First Nations people can be diminished.
Later that day, at The Block in Redfern, Uncle Ray stood before the crowd at the Coloured Diggers March and reminded the community that this antisocial behaviour was a whitefella problem. “Just to stand strong, stand tall. Know who we are, where we come from, and that this is Aboriginal land. Always was and always will be Aboriginal land,” he explained. “We stand on the truth, and truth can’t be shaken. That kind of truth will never be destroyed.”
The Coloured Diggers March has become Redfern’s most significant Anzac Day gathering. It was created to recognise the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander servicemen and women who fought for Australia, often without receiving the respect, benefits or place in the national story afforded to others.
In 2006, while he was a pastor in Redfern, Uncle Ray and others began talking about the absence of recognition for Aboriginal service people. “Like all good things where you solve most of the world’s problems in a pub,” he said, “one or two of them walk out the door. And I think the Coloured Digger walked out the door.”
The march began as a community act of remembrance. It was not an official government ceremony. It was Redfern saying: Our grandfathers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunties and uncles served this country too.
“We’ve made our sacrifices and our services,” Uncle Ray has said. “We’ve shown our courage and our bravery, not only in our own country, but on foreign fields.”
But when many Aboriginal servicemen returned home, they returned to discrimination, exclusion and the restrictions of the Aborigines Protection Act. They were denied land, soldier settlement and other benefits. They could fight alongside their mates, but often could not drink with them in the same RSL or pub.
For Sunny, a social work student from rural and remote NSW, attending the march was a reminder of how much First Nations history remains absent from the national story. It was also a reminder of the cultural strength that continues in the city, often overlooked by those who fail to see the deep Aboriginal history and community life of places such as Redfern.
That is part of what makes the Coloured Diggers March so powerful. It is not only a correction to history, it is a living cultural practice. It creates a space where Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander diggers are named, honoured and held by community. It insists that Anzac Day is not complete while First Nations service remains a footnote.
As the march moved through Redfern, the day’s meaning could be felt in the street. Families walked together. Elders were greeted with affection. Children moved between parents, aunties and uncles. People paused, embraced, listened and remembered.
Behind the march came the low rumble of motorbikes from MOB SMSC, an Aboriginal-focused and operated social motorcycle group.
<
