Helen Bachmann’s entry Holding on to hope received the Encouragement Award in The Good Oil 2025 Writers’ Award, which has the aim of supporting and encouraging emerging and published writers.

I don’t want to!

No!

Nope!

I’ve had enough!

It hurts too much. It hurts too often.

Too many nights I have spent staring at the ceiling, sleep eluding me …

My troubled mind …

My thoughts are heavy …

What about me is so horrible, so unlikeable?

What about me makes people do these horrible things to me?

‘I’ must be me where the problem lies …

Can I go back to anonymity?

Can I hide behind my white skin?

Nope, I don’t want to be black anymore.

I find myself on an Aboriginal mission with a group of women. I am deeply honoured to be in such a place, and I do not miss the significance of the land on which I am standing.

The strong history of this place is told through the stories of the survivors. I can feel the weight of this history heavy on my heart. It is a true blessing for me to be here and to learn some of the painful history of our lands. Our group engages with the history that is shared through story. We are all moved, not one of us will leave this place unchanged.

I am attacked.

Not a violent physical attack. Not physical at all, but it still pierces me.

Her words – they are as sharp as any knife and cause as much pain. Words are weapons shot from this woman’s mouth, directed at me.

A woman from the mission made a comment directed squarely at me, publicly calling me out for not being black enough. My skin is no lighter than 90 per cent of the women who I have travelled to the mission with, why was I singled out? Are others laughing at me also?

This is not the first time this has happened to me, being labelled as not black enough. I was lost for the rest of the day, my mind a mess and my heart screaming with pain. It was a silent, invisible pain.

I had to pretend that I missed the taunt.

Why do I constantly give others power over my feelings of self-worth? Every time I experience a comment or interaction in which I am labelled as ‘not black enough’ I allow it to rock the foundations of my self-worth; a downward spiral of emotions that feeds my imposter syndrome.

The comments highlight my own inner-most thoughts … Power is a funny thing; by allowing the taunts to wound me I am handing power over me to my aggressor. I know that I must take the power back. I know I must work through this hurt to open myself up to a more positive future, for myself and what I can do for mob. This is where hope comes in.

In this Jubilee Year, all Catholics are pilgrims of hope. I began the year by walking through the Holy Doors of St Peter’s Basilica in Rome. This act, what many Catholics would consider the highlight of the Jubilee Year of Hope, for me was just the inspirational beginning.

My personal pilgrimage of Hope is a journey to knowing and accepting myself. Knowing and accepting that I am enough. This pilgrimage is not one that will be restricted by the bounds of a calendar year. Hope remains as a warm comfort throughout our lives. I know that I will journey a long way towards knowing and accepting myself in this year, however, the pilgrimage will last a lifetime.

Because faith is involved, my pilgrimage of hope is a trusting relationship with God who is love. My life journey has been one of turmoil and tranquillity, deception and trust, rejection and love. On this pilgrimage, I increasingly experience times of reflection and growth in concepts relating to identity. Who am I really? Where do I truly belong? What is the point of this journey? Why do I hang on to hope?

I am a proud Aboriginal woman, but I struggle with feelings of inadequacy. Is my problem the fact that I have subconsciously adopted a stereotypical view of what an Aboriginal woman is? A Western view of what an Aboriginal woman should be?

I was not raised in culture; I am an urban Aboriginal woman. This is not uncommon. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples are increasingly urbanised, this is the new normal. The standard to which I am judging myself against is unrealistic – and unattainable. So why do I judge myself against this unnecessary standard? And why do I allow others to also judge me in this way?

Sometimes I feel like de-identifying. Going back to those days where Indigeneity was denied, keeping the babies from being stolen. I ponder if it would be easier to be an ally rather than an Aboriginal woman …

Most days I feel good about myself, what I am doing in my work life brings me a feeling of fulfilment. I chose to work in the Indigenous space because I wanted to learn from other Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people about my culture and I also wanted to give back to the community to secure a better future for the next generation. I also wish to do work in this space so that I can honour my ancestors, this drives me. I hadn’t ever felt that these reasons were selfishly motivated.

However, the way I have been treated by other Aboriginal people would indicate that there is a great deal of anger towards Aboriginal people, who were not raised in culture, entering the space and trying to work for a better future.

I often wonder why this anger is there … Is it tall poppy syndrome? Is it lateral violence? Is it peoples’ own feelings of inadequacy being projected on to me? Is it them using the Western world view of what an Aboriginal person should be to judge me? Maybe a little of each, maybe something entirely different.

Whatever it is, I need to get my head around the fact that it is not my problem, it’s theirs. I can feel proud of what I am doing to try to provide a better future for my children and the generation they belong to.

We are fighting a system that forever places the Eurocentric majority in a position of privilege. Yes, I do experience that privilege as well, I function in the Western world professionally. I need to remain fully aware of that fact. Awareness is key. Awareness of the privilege and helping others to work within that Western system, while also remaining true to culture. Living in two worlds.

Whether it be in the Jubilee Year, or any other time in my life, I am a Pilgrim of Hope.

Helen Bachmann is the recipient of The Good Oil 2025 Writers’ Award – Encouragement Award, sponsored by Garratt Publishing.