On the day the referendum voting date was to be announced, I woke up with a heavy weight on my shoulders. I felt nervous, scared and angry. Nervous because having an official date makes this horrendous time for Blakfullas feel real and because it signifies the beginning of the launching of racist campaigns towards my people. Scared because our generation is going into an unknown time, we can only predict what the next 44 days are going to consist of in this country, is this going to tear my community apart? What is going to be the aftermath of this for Blak communities? And angry because it is a referendum we never asked for.

 I am training for the New York Marathon with the Indigenous Marathon Project and so I had training I needed to get done. I needed to do 45 minutes on the stationary bike at the gym, followed by a gym strengthening session. I strategically timed my session at the gym to coinside with the 11am announcement hoping to miss it all, completely forgetting that the gym has multiple televisions and had the ABC live news rolling. 

I desperately tried to not look up at the screen and instead focus on peddling my feet, but as the moment drew closer anger and fear just consumed my entire body.

I looked up at the screen one last time to see the footage of everyone clapping, smiling and celebrating. The Prime Minister looking as though he had solved the Aboriginal problem, what a hero.

Why do they all look so happy? When grassroots mob on the ground are not. Why are they all smiling and clapping? While I am pushing through the last minutes on this bike with tears mixed with sweat rolling down my face.

This moment represented the reality of this referendum, white savior self-proclaimed allies celebrating and Blakfullas feeling an insurmountable feeling of powerlessness and absolute lack of control over our lives and our destiny. We are heading into a vote where the white illegally occupying 97% of the country decide on the future of the First People of this country, the 3% who apparently don’t have a voice.

Once finishing at the gym, I retreated to the isolation and safety of my parked car. I was so relieved when my sib Tarneens name came up on my phone. I answered their call and we both just cried. Tarneen and I are close, my dad and Tarneens nan have a long history of sticking together and having each other’s backs. What was special about this moment was Tarneen and I both know we hold differing positioning’s on the vote but our Blak love for each other is stronger than anything.

Tarneen and I yarned on the phone for 1 hour and 30 minutes, a yarn that started off with tears and expressing our fears for this referendum campaign period. I reflected with Tarneen on a yarn with an Aunty a few years ago, where she talked about how divided community was at the time of the Recognise Campaign and how she attended a funeral of someone she loved in that time and their last connections being an argument over the Recognise campaign.

Tarneen and I yarned about the reality that we are always going to funerals, we are always burying our people and we don’t want to be arguing with people we love over a referendum we never asked for.

It was in this moment where my anger shifted to an intense feeling of love, love for my people, love for the people in my life, both Blak and non-Indigenous. It was in this moment where I realised my true positioning within this referendum, and that is to love more than ever and care deeply for the people and communities I belong to.

Tarneen and I started off with tears, but in very Blak fashion we ended in stitches of laughter. We shared details of our therapists with one another, booked sessions with them while on the phone and centred that moment on our wellbeing, I love that we appreciated our worth in that moment.

After finishing this phone call, I started the car and started to head home, but instead felt the need to go and visit my brother Josh Muir at the Ballarat Cemetery. Josh passed away almost two years ago and was only 30 when he left us for the dreaming, a shock to our community, particularly to Tarneen and I’s generation and circle. I visit josh often, but this visit felt different. I sat there and cried and could feel Josh talking to me about life being too short.

I believe I was drawn to visit Josh on the day of the referendum vote date being announced; to remind me of the importance of living and loving life while we are here. Josh had this special way of seeing and interpreting the world and a beautiful way of living life in the moment.

After leaving the cemetery and having my deadly yarn with Tarneen, I felt empowered. I realised I had successfully changed the narrative of a day that I had forecasted to be a shocking one.

On this day I was reminded of how beautiful Blak communities and relationships are. I was reminded of the importance of not allowing government agendas to control every ounce of who we truly are and I was guided to my true positioning within this referendum campaigning period.

I love my people, despite how we vote. I will not tolerate anyone bullying, intimidating or belittling anyone in my circle. The next 44 days are going to be testing to say the least. I was scared of what life beyond the referendum was going to look like, but the 30^th of August taught me that a commitment to Blak love and care can narrate the future we are worthy of.