‘Dann Lennard just had an uncomfortable train trip into town watching Anglo kids dressed in Australia flag T-shirts, carrying Australian flags and asking non-Anglos loudly, “Oi, mate! Where are you from?” Fuck, I’m ashamed to be Australian today.’ – my Facebook status update on January 26
‘Sadly a lot of people don’t know the difference between patriotism and racism. Most of the racists can be identified by a Southern Cross tattoo somewhere on the body’ – Facebook friend in response
WHEN I see an Australian flag attached to a car window or hanging from the window of a house, I feel a twinge of apprehension and uneasiness…especially on Australia Day. It makes me question a lot of things about the person who owns the car or lives in the house, the biggest one being, “Are they racists?”
This sentiment is multiplied 1000% if the Australian flag is replaced by a Southern Cross flag. And if the Southern Cross is actually TATTOOED on a person’s body, I just automatically assume they’re knuckle-dragging fuckwits.
When did it happen? When did flags become symbols of hatred and intolerance? And when did January 26 – Australia Day – degenerate from a harmless public holiday to a jingoistic excuse for idiots to get drunk and abuse fellow Australians of non-Anglo descent?
It wasn’t always like this, surely? I’ve never thought much of Australia Day, it was always an annual joke – the day when a bunch of convicts invaded someone else’s homeland. I mean, give me a fucking break.
But it was essentially harmless – unless you were an Aborigine, of course. Growing up, I regarded Australia Day as a day off school, a day off work and a chance to laugh at the idiots who got Order of Australia Medals. Mark Taylor? John bloody Farnham?
So when did it change? When did we go down that nationalistic path?
Personally, I blame former Prime Minister John Howard. The rise in xenophobia, racism and rampant jingoism in this country can initially be traced back to his pandering to redneck independent MP Pauline Hanson and her brain-dead supporters back in the mid-90s.
Add to that the growing ill-will towards Muslims after 9/11, followed by the Tampa/children overboard scandal in 2001 and you could see where things were heading.
Then came the Cronulla riots in December 2005, a shameful day in this nation’s history. Idiots running amok, attacking non-Anglos on the beach, in trains. It was a fucking disgrace.
It wasn’t a coincidence that a few weeks later – on Australia Day 2006 – came the first news reports of groups of Anglo teenagers wearing Aussie flags round their neck (the so-called “Cronulla cape”) forcing non-Anglos to kiss the flag while proudly displaying inane slogans – “You flew here, I grew here!”, “Fuck off, we’re full!” – scribbled on their bodies with zinc cream.
It was at this point that I began to worry about the mentality of anyone who displayed an Aussie flag, or temporary flag tattoos on their faces, or wore flags as capes, or had the Southern Cross (or the Cronulla postcode) tattooed on a body part.
I live in Harris Park, near Parramatta, which has probably the biggest Indian population in Sydney. Right now, being Indian must be one of the hardest gigs in Australia – they’re getting regularly mugged in Sydney and even murdered in Melbourne ’cos they’re seen as soft targets by muggers or easy marks by racist scumbags.
On Australia Day 2010, I came home from work and told Helen we weren’t taking our daughter and the dogs for a walk that night. Why?
Xenophobic arseholes + a day of boozing + the bloodsport of taunting harmless Indian students who live and work in our home suburb = a very good reason not to stick your nose out the front door.
So we spent the rest of the evening at home while I looked forward to January 27 and the end of another stupid Australia Day.
So…thanks, lil’ Johnny. The seeds of intolerance you sowed have taken root and flowered. Hope you’re happy.
