Kristy Weston

Intro: Hello, my name is Savannah Travia-Dann, and I’m a Nyul Nyul woman from Winawaal Country on the Dampier Peninsular. 

Welcome to a collection of stories shared by Indigenous and Non-Indigenous Australians in various locations across Walyalup. 

Walyalup is the Noongar name for Fremantle, located on the south-west coast of what is now known as Western Australia. Like the rest of the continent, Walyalup is ancient Country and home to one of the world’s oldest continuing cultures, the Noongar people. 

In this series, you will hear live recordings from people who have shared difficult truths, hidden histories and visions for the future. It was created as part of the First Stories collection and funded by Lotterywest – bringing First Nations truths and lived experiences to new audiences. These stories reflect personal experiences of colonisation, resilience, connection and belonging in Walyalup and across Australia. 

Produced by the Centre for Stories in partnership with the City of Fremantle, these recordings were captured on Noongar Boodja. We pay our deepest respects to Noongar Elders past and present, and to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people who since the beginning, have been the custodians, carers, knowledge holders and storytellers of this land. 

Before we begin, please be aware that this episode may contain references to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultures, histories and experiences that belong to the storytellers. It may include themes and language that some listeners may find distressing. 

We acknowledge the ongoing impacts of colonisation and the importance of truth-telling in creating a more honest understanding of our shared history. We also recognise that these stories may be particularly challenging for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander listeners. 

If you’re feeling distressed or triggered while listening, please reach out to 13 YARN on 13 92 76, where you can speak with an Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander Crisis Support Worker.  

In this episode, Kristy Weston, a Bibblumen, Naaguja, Wardandi Whadjuk women reflects on her Blak identity, motherhood and the journey of finding her place within community and culture. This is Kristy. 

KCW: Kaya, ngany kwerl Kristy Councilor-Weston. Bibbulmen wer Naaguja ngany moort-a. Ngany kaartadjin Walyalup bridiya koora-koora yeyi.  

Today I’m sharing my personal experience of living in two worlds. This is not your typical, typical account of a First Nations person living in a black and a white world. This is about my experience of living in a Noongar world and a Yamatji world. I was born on Whajuk Boodja, the granddaughter of a very proud and strong Yamatji man and an independent sweet Noongar woman who was born here in Walyalup. My mother was birthed in Jambinu and raised on Yamatji Country instilled with a strong love for the Midwest. My mother grew up, met my Noongar father, and raised all seven of her children with my Noongar father in Undalup. My mother never lost her love for the place she was raised. And along with my six siblings, I spent every term break throughout my school, primary school, and high school years visiting Jambinu. Raised in Undalup and holidaying in Jambinuwas bittersweet. In the eighties and nineties, I was too white for my mother’s Yamatji family and I was too black for my father’s Noongar family. A feeling that something was missing had always lingered in the background of my mind. And only weeks after turning 18, I decided to move to Jambinu and live with one of my mother’s sisters. I thought that if I actually lived in Jambinu and was not only visiting that I would somehow belong on my mother’s country. I spent a whole year there living in Jambinu, but the friends I had made and the cousins I hung out with, still referred to me as only a Noongar. I ended up meeting a Yamatji who was born and raised in Jambinu and we fell in love. I birthed him three beautiful babies on my mother’s country and despite my lineage and despite the fact that their father was Yamatji, my children, my three children and I were still only seen as Noongar, I ended up divorcing that Yamatji man and raised my children in Undalup on Noongar Boodja and met and fell in love with a man who had lineage in Noongar family and Yamatji family like me. But unlike me, my new husband’s identity was firmly cemented in both of those worlds. I was an eager learner in my school years and my new husband supported me to pursue my goals and I began studying, graduated from the course and started working in my community in Undalup. I happened to be scrolling on social media one day and I came across a six-month leadership course for First Nations women that looked interesting. I applied, was accepted and became delighted to be around so many other deadly Blak women on their own leadership journeys. During the course, they had different facilitators and elders who are invited to share their knowledge and wisdom with us. One of the speakers was a lovely Noongar elder who had been born, raised, and was still living in Whadjuk Boodja. Throughout my childhood and right up to my late thirties. I was often told by Yamatji mob that Noongar mob had no language. We had no lore, and we had no customs. 

The more abrupt Yamatji mob would call Noongar mob, cheeky and coconuts. I asked the lovely Aunty what her take on this behavior was, and she ended up educating me. She said that Noongar mob were the first mob in Western Australia to be annihilated with nowhere to run and hide. We were slaughtered by the thousands and we lost our language, our lore, and our culture. I was finally enlightened on my Noongar mobs’ sacrifices and was empowered with confidence for my Noongar lineage.  

I decided to enroll in a Noongar language class in Goomburrup and started learning how to speak the Noongar dialect. I was ecstatic to be given the opportunity to attend the International Indigenous Languages Conference in Larrakia country. It was absolutely mind blowing and it was surreal to be introduced to some Yamatji Mob who were attending the conference on behalf of their Naaguja language group, which was my maternal grandfather’s dialect.  

Back home on Wardandi Boodja, I was in class one day when my language teacher made a point of letting me know there was a Naaguja language meeting coming up soon in Jambinu and that they had asked me to attend. I hadn’t been to Jambinu for years, but I had just separated from my Noongar, Yamatji husband after 13 years and thought that a little trip to the mid-west might take my mind off things. I had to figure out who would look after my two little boys who would not sit still for a trip to the shops, let alone a six hour journey back to Yamatiji country. 

As luck would have it, my eldest daughter who works as a firefighter was on her week off, and she agreed to watch her baby brothers as long as I went straight up and came straight back. So I got in my car, filled it up with diesel, which was a lot cheaper two years ago and ended up spending less than 24 hours back in Jambinu.  

At the meeting, I was warmly embraced by my Naaguja mob. As my maternal grandfather was very well known in Jambinu. I was delighted to discover my great-grandfather was one of the last known speakers of the Naaguja dialect. To hear my mother’s pop’s voice was something that I’llnever forget and it brought tears to my eyes. I was born decades after he had passed and there I was sitting in Jambinu listening to his voice, speaking in the Naaguja dialect.  

After the meeting, I met up with three of my Yamatji brother cousins who had found out I was there, and they made me drive their drunken asses all over Yamatji country, showing me everywhere where all our Naaguja mob had lived and raised their kids and worked traveling back to Noongarcountry early the next morning. I experienced a wide range of emotion, but I no longer felt like there was something missing.  

Attending that meeting had given me something that I had been chasing all my life, regardless of what other people thought. Yamatji country ran in my blood. It was a part of who I was and it was a part of who my children were. Jambinu is my country too, and it is where I belong. 

Outro: Thank you for listening to the Backyard Truth Telling Series. This collection of stories was made possible through the generous support of the City of Fremantle and Lotterywest and was produced by the Centre for Stories. 

To learn more about the City of Fremantle’s commitment to reconciliation, visit fremantle.wa.gov.au. 

If you’d like to hear more stories from the Backyard Truth Telling Series, visit centreforstories.com. 

Centre for Stories is a not-for-profit organisation dedicated to uplifting diverse voices, fostering connection and creating spaces where stories can be shared and heard. If you’d like to support this work, please consider making a donation through our website: centreforstories.com. 

This podcast was produced by Savannah Travia-Dann, with storytelling training from Ron Bradfield Jnr and Mariela Espino Zuppa, and sound engineering by Mason Vellios and Cobie Mason. 

Thank you for joining us and thank you for supporting the storytellers who have generously shared their truths, experiences and visions for the future.