Did you really just say that?


On Wednesday I posted about racism on the blog, and I made a statement that I now realise needs some expanding on. I didn’t add anything to that paragraph in the post at the time because I didn’t want to fall into the trap of making that statement and then saying ‘oh but not like that..’.

Saying ‘I’m a racist’ is not something to say lightly. Perhaps it was foolish, but I won’t erase it and pretend it never happened.

As I outlined in Wednesday’s post, I have been doing a lot of reading and listening this year, on issues of inequality and racial injustice. That has led me to conclude that I can’t dismiss racism within myself simply because I perceive myself as a ‘good person’. 

I’ll state here that my use of we and our in these posts refers to white people and the dominant culture in Australia, as that’s where I live. 

I am a white woman. 

I benefit from white supremacy in my everyday life in such a way that I’m completely oblivious to it. It just ‘is’I live in a society that’s very structures promote whiteness as normative and right. 

I accept that white privilege is real. I believe it is so ingrained in our culture that we can’t see it. 

Now that I know these very basic things, I have to hold myself accountable for being a beneficiary of white supremacy. The images that these terms conjure up are potent, and there’s absolutely no way that I can see into the minds of everyone, or anyone, who reads this and thereby mitigate any negative reactions that I may receive. That’s something I need to be okay with, as I have no other choice.

When I talk now about racism, I don’t see it meaning someone who yells racial slurs at people in the street, I don’t think of it meaning that I hold conscious hatred or prejudice for people who aren’t also white. For too long, whave associated racism with only doing bad things.

I see it as saying, yes, I’m aware now that I’m part of the problem. Until I go from someone who is a beneficiary of a system that favours me simply because of the colour of my skin, to someone who is actively ANTI-racist, then I’ve decided that labelling myself as racist or as someone who is working against racist structures, is the very least I can do towards acknowledging that the way that the world is structured is deeply flawed. 

There’s something about this decision, that for me (and I can only speak for myself) has taken the sting out of the word racist. It’s a word we run from, it’s a word we fear, because we don’t want to be known as a bad person. 

Blogging is an ongoing conversation with the internet. Single posts don’t contain all the information about a given topic. This is an incomplete, immature and tenuous process. I’m okay with that.

My main goal in writing about stuff like this is sharing my experience. If something I share can spark a conversation, or lead to someone thinking about something from a new perspective, that’s brilliant. If not, this blog has always been about my wanderings, wonderings and words, and this is where I am right now. 


I am a novice. I will get things wrong. That’s part of growing.


Sunday Sunshine

It’s my favourite kind of Sunday – no plans, nowhere to be, no need to watch the clock. 

There’s room for musing, so here we are. 

This morning, after a sleep in, I listened to a long podcast. While that was playing I gathered up clothes, I stripped the bed, and chased dust bunnies around the bathroom floor.

Windows got flung open; sunshine and fresh air working their magic. 

There are clean sheets out on the creaking Hills Hoist, in July! They might not dry completely, but it’s simply lovely to stand in the backyard and look up at a cloud dotted blue sky. 

I noticed these buds and it made me think about how things just keep going, and growing. 


Vines find the sun, that’s in their DNA. If there’s not a tree to climb, they’ll climb a fence, or a house or a rock. Nothing stops them from being what they are, or from going where they’re destined to go. 

Up and over. 

Up and out. 



We can feel so stuck where we are sometimes, but really, everything is in motion. 

Seasons, clouds, priorities, vines – they all evolve. They’re alive. 

The podcast I was listening to earlier reminded me of what the vines and buds showed me, life isn’t stagnant.

Like the vines and seasons, we are made to create, to grow, to tip our faces towards the sky. 

Even in the permanence and predictability of winter turning to spring, the way it unfolds is never the same. 

Thinking we can predict outcomes or know the future based on the past, it’s never going to work. And it can be so exhausting. 

Do you think that vine knows specifically where it is going to go ahead of time? 

I doubt it very much. 

I think it knows that it’s going to go up. 

Maybe up and over, maybe across, maybe slowly, maybe quickly… but it’s all upward growth, even when it’s snaking between fence posts, getting splinters. It’s growing. 

Perhaps permanence and unpredictability nestle side by side, longing for us to accept them both. Could they? Could we?

Keep growing my friends, and tip your faces towards the sky today. 


With love, 

Annette xx