Thank you, everyone. Thank you, Natasha. I’d also just like to acknowledge, obviously, the first nations and meeting on [inaudible words] country. I’ve been here for seven years and I am so grateful and so thankful for the people of this land, the landscape and also obviously the people that live here now as well. It’s been an amazing seven years.

Now I have got notes because I talk a lot, so I’m just keeping myself focused. So I was born to proud parents, Olympic boxer Diaz, who was black and of mixed ethnicity, and school teacher, [inaudible word] who was white of mixed ethnicity. My heritage covers a unique genetic mix in part of, and yes, I will say it slowly and feel free to grab a pen.

I am West African from Ghana, Black American, Red Cherokee Indian and Indian from Calcutta. But I’m also Scottish, Dutch, German and English. I was born multiracial in a racist world. My name is Sara and welcome to my story. Youngest of three. My brother was the oldest. His skin is white. Translucent white, born on the moon white. But my sister, in stark contrast, has very dark skin.

And as a child, she always looked like she just come back from that weekend holiday in the Bahamas. And everyone would be like, Oh, she’s so beautiful with that tan. And as myself, I call my skin cappuccino because it is both. When I lived in Melbourne and in cold climates, I’d go really white, almost like my brother. But when I’m in a warm climate, I can actually go quite dark. And almost a few times in my life, I’ve been a lot darker than my father.

Now, interestingly, and as a side note to my story, the three siblings, all of us, we view our ethnicity quite differently. We all see ourselves as very different people, which I find very interesting because we’re all in the same family. But from birth, I knew black and white people were the same, it was no difference in black or white. They were the same. But my parents often voiced their hatred and I hate using this word, [inaudible words], they used I had quite a strong hatred for the Deigos. It was the 70s. And they had just moved in next door. Now I didn’t know what a Deigo look like, but I knew that they were not to be trusted and avoided at all costs.

Within months of the moving in next door, the Deigos killed my best friend, a Labrador puppy who insisted on doing his business in their front garden. So unfortunately we found my best friend on our front lawn with a pitchfork through the middle of him. So I, even though I still had no idea what a Deigo looked like, I knew then, well, you had to fear them.

And I hated them because they killed my best friend. As a child, like any child, I had no idea what race or racism was or how it would mould my life. Like all children, we need to witness it or we need to be taught it. And on that day, I was taught racism.

To add to my racial confusion, I’ll fast forward to my first day of school, where a boy walked up to my dad and I as we entered and raised his arm in the American Indian greeting and proudly said How! Of which, my father held up his arm and said, How!

I was very confused. He kind of giggled under his breath and I said, What… What’s going on there? Why does he think you’re an Indian? And he said to me, well, I am part Indian. And I said, What do you mean, you’re part Indian? I mean, I knew my dad. I had never seen a bow and arrow. I had never seen the teepee, I grew up with [inaudible words], he had to have a horse and he needed feathers – he had none of those.

So I was, I was really confused. And I guess that’s where my world exploded, because I found out by definition and not by life experience what multiracial was and how humans see each other as different just by their colour or their race. And I was a lot of different colours and races… It was a big discovery. Inside my genes, my soul, my body, my heart and my brain are many different races. And this discovery made me feel the luckiest person on earth.

At its best and worst, being multiracial has meant many things to me, and it is multilayered and has certainly steered the course of my life. So I’d like to share some examples with you. On a superficial level, I love that my skin doesn’t burn as a predominantly kind of white family, as such. I don’t burn at all. And even though it’s superficial, I love the fact that I don’t wear fake tan and I don’t have to wear sunblock. On a non-superficial level, being multiracial means I instinctively have high empathy and a sense of commonality with all humans. I only see one race, and that’s the human race.

Of course, I acknowledge a person’s different color or race, and if it’s different to mine, but I am not indifferent to anyone. I know I don’t. I know, like I don’t think it, I know that you are not better than me. But I also know that I am not better than you. When I stand in front of anyone, I see my equal. And I’m truly grateful for the knowledge of that. And instinctively from birth, I resonated and identified with all of my cultural groups, some stronger than others. But as I get older, I think I’m a living proof that on a cellular genetic level, genetic memory is alive and well. I believe you cannot deny your gene pool. And I truly believe you can remember what you don’t know.

This was illustrated to me when I was racing camels for the King of Dubai. Yes, I used to be a camel jockey as well. But the first time I a rode a camel on the track, a weird ass chant poured out of my throat. It freaked out my teammates. It freaked me out because it was autonomous and I had no control over this noise that kept peering out of my mouth.

I can only do it when I’m in full gallop on a camel, so I can’t show you what it is. And as my career continued, I realized it actually assisted my breathing and the camels seem to like it as well. So it was fun. I did become the best camel racer in Australia after winning 31 of 34 races and broke every track record in our first season. I often wondered if it was my Indian heritage that had made me so, so capable and so fearless on top of the camel. Ten years later, on a camel trek in the far desert in India, my questions were answered when I met the [inaudible word] desert women who also sang the exact chant. So you tell me.

Keeping this in mind, I also can’t deny my grandmother’s wisdom inside my DNA, of her struggle, all her struggles, and fight for self-determination and equality. As a black non-Indigenous woman, in the early dark days of white Australia, this high level of empathy, I believe, gifted by her, encouraged me to actively seek life experiences and employment in areas that proactively supported people who have been displaced, marginalized, or seemingly have a smaller voice because of their race.

I haven’t given up on her fight and I never will. My sense of commonality because of my mixed culture means I feel like I fit in everywhere. But the reality is I am often not white enough or I am not black enough to fit in anywhere. I have no mob that sees me as their own and even members of my own extended family shun me because of my mixed heritage.

I grew up hearing things like, aren’t you lucky your skin turned out white? We would never have employed you if we knew your dad was black. You need to wait outside to my mom gets home in case you steal something. Yuck. You’re a lovely girl. But there’ll be no black babies in our family, so don’t get too comfortable.

Nice. And you don’t belong here. You’re not one of us. And that has been said to me by many cultures. You’re walking on the wrong side of the road, which always makes me laugh. Because obviously, if I’m walking on the wrong side of the road and I’m half of age, if I walk down the middle, I’m just going to give you a [inaudible words] and you don’t have a right or wrong side of the road, it’s down the middle for me or nowhere.

And just to show you the extent of it, maybe people are maybe not racist, but they’re just interested. I bet you’ve been asked. So if your dad’s black and your mum’s white, what colours are your nipples? Oh yeah. Sorry. Much later in my life and I still can’t explain that one. These examples were said to my face, often with no ill intention.

People often don’t realize when they are being racist, but then [inaudible word] will often be openly racist to me, not realizing that I am actually taking offense. I found it difficult as a younger person to navigate a positive response to racism. It made me angry. It made me sad, and often it made me quite disgusted. As I get older, I realized education and humor have been the best defense that I’ve had.

Rather than getting offended or angry, I get busy trying to be the difference I want to see in the world. I choose to be an advocate and spokesperson for anti-racism issues and equality. I want people to realize that race makes no difference to a soul. But still find myself surrounded by people who are blind to this. But change is coming.

And as much as I know I have my part to play in the solution, no matter how small, I believe we all have our part to play in erasing racism, and I look forward to seeing that day together. I was born multiracial in a racist world. My name is Sara and thank you for listening to my story.