Aborigines, Taken From Families as Children, Tell of Their Ordeal

Only 20 years ago, government officials were forcibly separating aboriginal children from their mothers to turn them into white Australians.

“I just remember coming home and Mum was at the door. . . . There was this white woman standing there, and I can hear Mum saying: ‘Can’t you give me time to get the kids ready?’

“And she said, ‘No, they’ve got to go now,’ something like that. One minute we were coming home to the house and the next instant we were in the car and gone.

“We were never ever told why we were taken.”

Jean Carter was one of thousands of children taken away under the all-enveloping powers of the Aboriginal Protection Board, which for 86 years decided whether such action “was in the interests of the moral or physical welfare of the child.”

Unaware of Roots

Many children never saw their families again and were assimilated into the country’s white population. Aboriginals estimate that 100,000 people may be unaware of their black roots.

Others, like Carter, retained their black consciousness and up to 50 years later re-established contact with their families.

Thirteen of those who “came home” recall their struggles in a book, “The Lost Children,” published in August.

Policemen rounded up youngsters on aboriginal reserves, young mothers were persuaded to have their babies adopted within hours of birth and children were taken away with the promise they would be returned educated or trained.

The reason for taking children was often flimsy.

“Why admission is sought--’To take the child from association of aborigines as she is a fair-skinned child,’ ” read the entry on a form placing Joy Williams in a children’s home.

Removed From Parents

In New South Wales, one in six aboriginal children born from 1900 to 1969, when the board was dissolved, are estimated to have been removed from their parents.

Depending on their age, some were adopted by white families, others were placed as nannies or other types of servants. Most were put in children’s homes.

“Every time I was in trouble I was being told that it was because I was aboriginal, bad, lazy,” said Nancy de Vries. “The usual stereotyping was very obvious in those days because, I think, they firmly believed all those things.”

In the 1920s, state and federal governments adopted a policy of assimilation for aborigines, especially those of mixed blood, based on the assumption that a white way of life was desirable.

“They were turning me into a white person, they were taking my whole culture and my whole everything from me and making me what they wanted me to be as an adopted child,” Sherry Atkinson said.

The aboriginal population fell to 70,000 in the 1930s from 300,000 at the time of white settlement in 1788.

In the 1960s, the assimilation policy came under increasing criticism and the right of aborigines to maintain their racial identity was acknowledged. Aborigines now constitute 1.5% of the 16-million population.

“The Lost Children” found that young adults have a tough time assuming black ways after years of living in a white world.

“It’s when you go out in the world, you’re confused and don’t know where to go,” Alicia Adams said.

Some took solace in drink as they struggled to establish their identities or drown their fury.

“I was very angry that whole year that I was at Tranby,” an aboriginal college, said Jeanette Sinclair. “Everything that I learned just made me angrier and angrier--that it should happen to people, that it should have been allowed to happen, that it was planned to happen to people.”

‘I Felt Cheated’

“I tried to kill myself,” De Vries said. “I was lonely, I was unhappy, I wanted my mother, I wanted my identity, I felt cheated, I wanted to be me. And I wasn’t being me.”

Many found it impossible to fit into parents’ lives that had been shattered by forced separation from their children.

“What I went through would be just a drop in the ocean compared to what a mother would go through,” Jean Carter said. “When you’ve got to know your kids are growing up somewhere else, and sometimes you don’t even know where your kids are.”

Sharon Carpenter was not the only child who found that other aborigines did not welcome her back with open arms.

“I think maybe it’s because the Koories (aborigines) who have grown up in the cities and towns have had such a struggle, maybe they think: ‘Oh, you’ve grown up white and had it all easy and now you want the glory of being black,’ ” Carpenter said.

“I can understand that,” she said. “But it has to be a two-way thing. It’s easy when white people say you’re not black . . . but when black people say you’re not, that hurts.”

All 13 have now found acceptance among aborigines, giving their lives a firm focus at last.

“I had a heritage now,” Pauline McLeod said in describing what it was like after being welcomed home by her family. “For the first time in my life I knew where my people were. It was just fabulous. To find my family was one of the greatest things I’ve ever done.”