Another Day in the Colony

by Chelsea Watego

In this collection of deeply insightful and powerful essays, Chelsea Watego examines the ongoing and daily racism faced by First Nations peoples in so-called Australia. Rather than offer yet another account of ‘the Aboriginal problem’, she theorises a strategy for living in a society that has only ever imagined Indigenous peoples as destined to die out.

Drawing on her own experiences and observations of the operations of the colony, she exposes the lies that settlers tell about Indigenous people. In refusing such stories, Chelsea narrates her own: fierce, personal, sometimes funny, sometimes anguished. She speaks not of fighting back but of standing her ground against colonialism in academia, in court and in the media. It’s a stance that takes its toll on relationships, career prospects and even the body.

Yet when told to have hope, Watego’s response rings clear: Fuck hope. Be sovereign.

Genres: Nonfiction, Indigenous, Australia, Essays, Politics, Memoir, Race

6 pages, Audible Audio

First published November 2, 2021

Reviews

[Sarah Krause · Rating 5 out of 5]

I finished this one back in September but have been sitting on it for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I know Chelsea and that makes it harder to review – only because I want to do it justice and I really care what she thinks. And secondly, I’m white. I’m not the target audience for this book. So if you want to read a review from the intended target audience – wait and read what @blackfulla_bookclub or any other aboriginal reviewers or readers have to say. It will be better than anything I will write.

OK. That being said. I do think that this is still an important book for white Australians to read. I am hopeless at being concise, but here is what I got from the book and what I think Chelsea is saying…

It’s about what it is like to be Aboriginal in Australia NOW. Like right now. The majority of non-fiction and fiction books, cultural training, things taught in schools about Aboriginal Australia, speak about the past and of colonization and the Stolen Generation and living under the Act – however not many speak about what it is like to continue to live in a colonized country in 2021. She talks about the ongoing racism, discrimination, and the denial that this even occurs – across literature, schools, university, academic life, social media. Through these essays, Chelsea shares stories from her personal life (she’s a mum of 5), her academic life (she has a PhD), and with her absolute razor sharp intellect she dissects what it is like as an Academic Aboriginal Mother on a daily basis in this country – ie. What it is like to live “Another Day in the Colony”.

It’s also a big fuck you to white Australia and the white savior syndrome and the stereotypes and the constant media representation of Aboriginal people in a negative light. It looks at the language being used to discuss aboriginal “issues” and “the gap” and who exactly that is benefitting, and even why some people are discussing it? It speaks of being sovereign and what this means. There are also a few controversial parts that I think Chelsea explains and handles very well.

It is also about being part of the aboriginal community and the absolute joy and wonderful way in which families and communities support each other and are there for one another. The humour, the kitchen table chats, the in-jokes – just what it is like to be part of that. I think this is something that is very hard to explain to people who aren’t part of it (and the book isn’t written to do that, as I said, it’s not written for white people), but it really captures some of that love and belonging. Those parts made me smile so much.

I think the book is amazing and I can’t wait to hear what the rest of Australia has to say about it. Well done Chelsea - what an amazing piece of work and of yourself to have out in the world! Thank you so much to UQ Publishing for sending me this gifted review copy – I am so so grateful.

[Jennifer (JC-S) · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘Black stories are beautiful things and can be found everywhere – except on bookshelves.’

Uncomfortable and confronting but definitely worth reading. The six essays in this book are a combination of Chelsea Watego’s own experiences, history, and theory. Every page a reminder of what so many of us try to forget or try to rationalise as the inevitable consequence of colonisation.

We (the colonisers) talk about problems and solutions, Chelsea Watego writes about truth and strength. This book was written for Indigenous readers, but I think that all of us who live here should read it. We’ve interpreted, written and read history on our own terms. Now it is time to listen to those who were here long before us.

Thank you, Chelsea Watego, for sharing. For making us think.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

[Jaclyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

A fierce and clear-eyed account of the continuing and enduring harm of colonial violence. Watego is a generous thinker and her rigorous intellect is something to behold. Another Day in the Colony was constantly thought-provoking and insightful. Watego makes a point to centre Indigenous presence rather than resistance and that shift is powerfully felt. Chapter three, The Unpublishable Story, was particularly revealing I thought. This is a book to read and then keep coming back to much like Talkin’ Up to the White Woman.

[Sarah Wilkinson · Rating 1 out of 5]

Thankfully, I am also currently reading Unbowed which offers a delightful contrast that is reasonable, informed, thoughtful, and based on personal experience as well as scholarly research.

... having looked at other reviews it occurs to me that it may not be safe to give Watego's book anything less than a high rating

Can’t remember feeling such a profound sense of relief when I turned the last page and realised I didn’t have to read another of Watego’s sentences-that-didn’t-make-sense.

16 August 2022

Since reading Watego's standpoint-positioned explanation of her experience of being a white-looking woman of Munanjahli, South Sea Island, and Celtic origin (she doesn't include the latter in her origin-standpoint intro on the first page of the book, but she does tell us later about her claim to whitefella heritage), I've educated myself a little on the Theories derived from "Social Justice" Theory: Queer Studies, Postcolonial Studies, Fat Studies, Disability Studies, Gender (not-Women-anymore!) Studies, etc.

I've read The War on the West by Douglas Murray, Cynical Theories by Helen Pluckrose & James Lindsay, White Fragility by Robin Diangelo; I've listened to podcasts with people like Josh Szeps, Coleman Hughes, Jordan Harbinger, Ayaan Hirsi Ali, and Jordan Peterson who discuss controversial issues including the so-called rights of trans gender people, "cancel culture" enthusiasts, and victims of violent words; I've watched some street epistemology exercises by Peter Boghossian; and I've enjoyed some incisive comedians like Dave Chapelle and Bill Burr. I'll continue to explore how the theology of "Social Justice" confuses the minds of young students, the uninformed, and the unaware. It's quite disturbing.

I'm glad I read Watego's "truth-telling". (I wonder if she'd take the time to read mine.. after all, I am a fellow-dweller in the colony and have even experienced colonial living on other continents). Her "nihilistic" treatise has inspired me to be informed and to be able to respond in future conversations. I now understand why Watego writes the way she does. She's a devotee of the postmodern religion of the whitefellas!

[F Warrego · Rating 1 out of 5]

“So called Australia”. And it doesn’t get any better from there. Long on innuendo, short on fact. TBH, this should be labeled as fiction in many parts. Very imaginative.

[Delilah · Rating 1 out of 5]

I was so relieved to finish. I felt obliged to finish. To hear her out. To listen. It took me two sittings, I had to put the book down for a couple months and recovery.
This book offers a perspective of an Aboriginal woman growing up and living as a minority culture in a land where her people has always lived. This is an experience I had never lived so I have gained a new perspective. What I wasn't expecting was the authors unbridled hatred towards white Australians. There is very little hope in this book, either for white readers or Indigenous readers. It is a book of sadness and of a lifetime of hostility.
I don't know what to do with the book now. I don't like throwing books out but I don't feel anyone can find in these pages anything that is productive to the issues that Australia faces and offering up this anger for someone else to read seems like the wrong thing to do.

[Mentai · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'll be mulling over this one for a long time I reckon. Some essays were fantastic like the one on Indigenous/colonial discourse and story where Watego provides a discourse analysis of a racist Australian text. Also absolutely necessary was Watego's scathing writing about her experience in academia, located within the frame of Indigenous critical race studies. This showed just how white and how exclusionary academia is.

Other essays could have done with a little more reflection, Watego mentions she wrote the book quickly and in some parts it shows. Overall, the tone is (understandably) angry. A dichotomy is set up so that complexities are sometimes lost. However Watego's arguments effectively re-emphasise the colonial institutions of Australia and their continuing violence on Aboriginal bodies.

***1/2

[Rebecca Larsen · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book is not written for 'colonisers' to read. At all. I found it vitriolic and hateful, insulting and rude. It made me angry to my very core. There was no opportunity for any redemption or dialogue; Watego spends the majority of the 250+ pages telling us how white Australians are the enemy. It didn't make me think, it made me resentful of the hours I'd spent reading it.

[Sarah · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was one of my most anticipated releases of 2021 and it did not disappoint. Insightful and unapologetic, this book is full of truth telling, and by that I mean the real kind, not the kind that’s supposed to make colonisers and settlers like me feel better about the land that was stolen and systemic and systematic oppression we’re complicit in every day.

The essays in this book are a combination of personal experience, theory, academic critique, history and everything in between. I was worried that it would be too academic for me, but Watego has done a great job of writing accessibly without making you feel like she’s dumbed it down. Solidarity pulses through this book, the love and power almost leaps of the page. This is a book about the inherent strength of First Nations people when they exist on their own terms outside of the coloniser narrative.

There were stories of discrimination and unfairness in this book that made me gasp at the injustice. But what was shocking to me is truly just #AnotherDayInTheColony for Watego and many First Nations people in so called Australia. I think that’s what is captured best here - the absolute every day mundanity of this discrimination. How it takes up space and air and filters into Black bodies and pretending it’s not there is violence and harm in and of itself.

All that said, my opinion doesn’t matter. This book isn’t for settlers like me to pass judgment on. It’s written for Indigenous readers and Watego has centred them as her audience, challenging the narrative that panders to colonisers/the white gaze. And I know there will be many people who will hear a Watego say this book was written for an Aboriginal audience and use that as an excuse not to read it. To those people I respectfully say, what the actual fuck?

It is an immense privilege to read this book and the literal least we can do is sit with the discomfort and reflect on how we uphold violent and oppressive systems. This book should be compulsory reading for every person who lives and works on stolen land and even though it wasn’t written for me, I am so grateful to have read it.

[Simone · Rating 3 out of 5]

Book Club #10, thanks Lish.
This book is not meant for me, or people like me (colonisers) so I feel unfair in reviewing it. But my OCD can’t let me not, so I’ll preface it with this caveat…
Honestly, this made me uncomfortable, like I said it’s not written for colonisers so that’s fine, but the amount of hate, but not quite hate, more like apathy, the “fuck hope”, the absolute disdain (still not the right word) for white people, it made me so sad. There are so many people that are trying, that want to do better, that are not responsible for the atrocities and violence, that do not perpetuate the everyday violence and racism still present in this country.
Themes: violence… and knowing, or being the “knower”

[JL Wolfe · Rating 1 out of 5]

I don’t know what to say… I dived in and loved the style: writing is articulate and draws you in. I do get to understand her arguments and pov.

But, as a whole, I read this as a personal quest for CW to eradicate the coloniser within herself. She fails.

[Esme Kemp · Rating 5 out of 5]

Rough. But great. felt very influenced by Sara Ahmed. Really liked the chapter called “fuck hope”. Australia sounds wild. I can’t imagine being an indigenous person living on land that was brazenly stolen and is still being colonised. Also made me gain a deeper/alt understanding of Paul Beatty’s The Sellout which I’m not mad about.

[Ika Willis · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really liked this. It's explicitly and consistently addressed to an Indigenous audience, and I found this (paradoxically) helped me find a position to read from as a white settler reader; I could try to read as an ethical witness, is the best way I can put it. Somehow, because the book is not for me, I could more easily reflect on my own (real-life) position. It also very much helped me to better understand the way institutional racism works, in a way that will make me a better colleague in future I hope. And the chapter on Saltwater was an absolutely brilliant/chilling analysis of the way that old narrative forms (here the "captive narrative") persist and shape the present-day perception of real people with real power over Aboriginal people.

[Rachel England-Brassy · Rating 5 out of 5]

To give context, I’m a white 50ish woman born in the UK, lived in Australia and now in New Zealand.

Upon moving to Australia - Western Australia, I was surprised first by how religious it is and just how culturally endemic racism is.

I felt and feel the guilt and shame of a coloniser; the horror, pain and ongoing harm colonialism has caused across so much of the world.

This book is an angry, potent and confronting read.
It is superbly written and argued and ought to be compulsory reading in Australia and Britain. And America.

Read it.
Highly recommended.

[Crystal · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm grateful for this collection as someone whose grandfather was indigenous but who never was in community with that side of the family and never felt quite right claiming indigeneity. A lot of questions were answered.

[Kim · Rating 5 out of 5]

A really important book. It should be self-evident that we need to hear articulate indigenous views from indigenous people. The author succinctly puts much of what I read about "the closing the gap" attitude in the anthology edited by Rosie Scott and Anita Heiss, The Intervention: An Anthology. She also articulates that Indigenous people who's lives were removed from black communities, now need to seek to be part of those communities and do the work, before they can hope to speak for those communities (another issue that should be self- evident).
She addresses racial violence and the various natures of racial violence. Which is particularly important for those of us who don't experience it, to hear about.
In talking about these issues she refers to some African-Americans works that I've been hearing about lately and I'm hoping to read soon, WEB Du Bois and Audre Lorde. She also refers to her own Post doctoral work, Prof. Marcia Langton's work, Dr Larissa Behrendt and the mentorship of Dr Lilla J. Watson.
I think reading this work is important in the lead up to "The Voice" referendum.
Refreshingly, she says when told to have hope. Fuck Hope. Be Sovereign.

[Sophia · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was phenomenal and her ability to put such rage-inducing and (unfortunately) contentious topics into coherent and eloquent words is extremely admirable

[Declan Fry]

Reading Another Day in the Colony led me back to Jackie Huggins’ Sister Girl. Not just Jackie: I went back to Aileen Moreton-Robinson. I went back to Audre Lorde. I went back to bell hooks’ Talking Back and Feminist Theory. That’s the beauty of Chelsea Watego’s debut: it puts us in dialogue with work and women we’ve known and loved for years. Or, if you’re unfamiliar with them – to paraphrase the great scholar Alanis Morissette – women you ought to know.

Watego’s background is in health. Her work is informed by bringing Black people back into the conversations where they have often been ignored – Black women in particular.

Another Day in the Colony combines memoir, philosophy and analysis to tell us, quite simply: “Fuck hope”. This invocation is a critique of hope as complacency, the dream deferred.

What Watego seeks instead of hope is “the emancipatory possibility of not giving a fuck”. “Some people may think that calls to retire hope for nihilism are irresponsible,” she writes. “But what is irresponsible is to require us to maintain the status quo of keeping Black bodies connected to life support machines they’ve been deemed never capable of getting off.”

White critics may dance around the fact that they know this book is not written for white people. But why bother? There is power in having non-white people as the assumed audience. There is power in talking to mob.

Read on: https://www.theguardian.com/books/202...

[Kelly · Rating 3 out of 5]

Let me preface my review by stating that I am a white Australian of European descent, so I am not the intended audience of this book, which is Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. That being said, I do have some thoughts about this book. I broadly agreed with and appreciated the perspective of the author on a number of matters she raised in this book. I did, however, find some of her stances problematic but presented in a way that implied they were somewhat universal, which I don’t believe they are. I also feel that if you have to explain the nuance of the difference between your opinion and that of Andrew Bolt because you’ve ultimately come to the same conclusion (see p164), it’s probably not the nuanced difference you think it is. I don’t doubt that the author’s experience of being Aboriginal in Queensland has been difficult to say the least, but I also don’t think that experience can be extrapolated to the experience of all Aboriginal people around the country, though there would, of course, be some overlap. Her stance on “ambiguous indigenous” people seems pretty harsh to me, and the way she spoke about nihilism as superior to hope seemed to belittle people who chose hope, which would likely include a lot of Aboriginal elders, so I wondered if she might be speaking out of turn. Over all, I’m glad I read this book but it didn’t meet my expectations.

[Joshua Line]

"To accept that it's the nihilism that makes life worth living is to accept the meaninglessness of the place they have reserved for us. Retiring hope is to relinquish having hope in colonial institutions predicated on our non-existence."

[David Lenton · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was first introduced to Dr. Watego's work when I discovered her (sadly retired) podcast with Angelina Hurley, Wild Black Women. Witty, fiercely intelligent and capable of switching between having a laugh and incisively analysing things on a dime, she immediately became one of my favourite Ausrralian academics/political commentators.

Whilst obviously lacking the humour of that work I'd previously engaged with, 'Another Day in the Colony' continues to represent that unwavering critique of the ways in which colonial logic both requires strict control of First Nation narratives, and is challenged by the continued presence of First Nations people. In a lot of ways, then, this book is a call to other First Nations people to be as present - as disruptive - as they possibly can be.

Watego makes it clear early on that her intended audience in this book is other First Nations people, but I never found that to be an issue. It's still accessible to non-Indigenous readers, as long as you're open to its message.

I started off reading the e-book, but switched over to the audiobook about a quarter of the way through. At 1.2x speed it sounded like listening to Watego on the radio/a podcast, and that's my happy spot. The book is definitely quotable, though, so a tandem read might not be a bad idea.

My only complaint about this book is that I would have liked it to be longer.

[Natasha (jouljet) · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book packs punch after punch, brutal truth after truth. A confronting, challenging, uncomfortable read, as a White reader in these unceded lands.

This book is not written for me, or other White Australians, but for fellow Blackfellas. It's their truths, their fight, their power.

A very generous, revealing, real examination of what existing, fighting, being, working, competing and living is like in this country where Blackfellas were actively eliminated, continually silenced, not counted, passed over, through all means of oppression. A frank account of the act of being sovereign. It's power.

This is a must read, and not really for me to add words to. So, there is this passage:

"Hope has not helped us. It is killing us because for too long we've invested in the idea of waiting for it. I'm no longer waiting on, or celebrating, incremental forms of progress, so-called well-intentioned steps in the right direction, which always seem to fail. This failure, we are told, should be met with more hope, as though it is our fault for not having enough of it, as though one can wish oneself out of oppressive structures..."

[Lily Mulholland · Rating 5 out of 5]

The best book I’ve read this year. So wonderfully written, this series of searing essays by one of the most thoughtful Indigenous academics in this land we call Australia explore what it means to be Indigenous and how Indigenous people can survive and thrive in a place that is dominated by colonial-settlers.

As a colonial-settler, this book was at times uncomfortable reading but I was drawn through it by the clarity of thought and language. While I can never understand what it means to be Indigenous, through Watego’s writings I can at least learn more about and begin to understand the harms done to Indigenous people through our societal norms, laws and institutions.

As a white writer who would like to include Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander characters in my works, this book also gave me important insights into how to do this well (or at least not badly), as well as reinforced the importance of writers building relationships with the Indigenous people and their cultures they mean to represent.

[Stef Rozitis · Rating 5 out of 5]

It's a difficult, but very worthwhile book. While spending the furst chapter non-pologising for being angry and not bothering to slow down and let white readers keep up, Watego has in fact come up with a nuanced, fair and well-argued book. The experiences she describes are horrible and I got angry reading them but there is an integrity that comes through and you know she is telling the truth (plus some of the facts you can check). I don't think I understood every part of it but I learned something.

[Waddamoula · Rating 1 out of 5]

This author grew up in a white household with a white mother. She say she Beaudesert mob, but she never grew up with us. These ‘stories’ bring us down, we’re proud people, we don’t need to whinge about this bullsht. You want to listen to someone who knows what they talking about, listen to our mob who live in community, like jacinta price, not these city academics.

[Linda · Rating 5 out of 5]

A good shake up to understand how inescapable racism is and to honor strategies Aboriginal people have come up with to deal with it. It causes me to reflect on my role as a white woman and the ongoing work of dismantling racism. The fight continues.

[Deb Chapman · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 from me (the chapter on ambivalent Indigenous I found very focused on some issues that I didn’t think needed her time and effort, but who am I to judge that? It just didn’t speak to me, nor was it intended, as, as she explicitly said, it’s a book for Blackfullas. ) The chapter on fuck hope was outstanding to me, so well argued, deep considerations on things which had been disquieting me for some time. Chelsea Watego is a powerhouse of a ‘public intellectual’ in so called Australia today, and the depth of her analyses and grounded eyes and perspectives make her make me sit up and take notice. Yes, joining of the dots for me. The book is full of Fabulous ideas, and truth bombs and rarely heard perspectives thrown out on every page. Great read and will come back to it no doubt. (Still getting my head around living with nihilism!)

[Ali · Rating 5 out of 5]

Smart and powerful as fuck.

[Meg · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not an easy book to read, but very powerful. It is challenging and somewhat discomforting, but should be essential reading. I recommend the audio book read by the author.

[Kara · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolutely fantastic. A must read