Marley: The National Apology from then-sitting Prime Minister Kevin Rudd occurred on February 13, 2008. It is a day I will never forget. At 11, a teacher pulled me from my class that morning and sat me next to my older brother in an unfamiliar classroom. It was my first month of year 7 at the new boarding school I had been sent to on an Indigenous education scholarship. To my knowledge, my brother and I were the only Indigenous kids at the school.

At the time, I didn’t quite understand the weight of the situation. The heaviness of the room was pressing down on my shoulders and sideways glances were being thrown in our direction from other kids. My brother and I sat hip to hip, huddled at his desk, with me trying not to take up too much space. I lowered my body to wrap my arms around my legs with my head almost touching the desk. A box television was wheeled in and placed in front of the classroom. The time had almost come.  

I kept stealing glances at my brother, not knowing what to do other than cry. I could feel the tears starting to well up with my main focus being on my Grandmother. My father’s mum had been forcibly removed from her family in Marble Bar, Western Australia under the Aborigines Act 1905.

My brother and I met our Matriarch as infants, and she passed shortly after. I carry her stories and spirit with me every day. Her strength and resilience pushed me through unknown territory.

– Marley Holloway-Clarke

Tyson: When the Apology was afoot, I asked my teachers if they were going to stop school and make everyone watch. I knew the answer should have been yes, this is a historic moment. Unsurprisingly the answer was no. But the teacher I asked, Tania Deguara wanted to make sure I saw it. Then I pushed the issue further and made sure my sister saw it too. I was year 8, and she was year 7 and we were already staunch advocates for our own education.

So with Aunty Tania’s support, both of us left our respective classrooms and went to Aunty’s classroom where she was stopping school inside her own four walls and making everyone watch in silence. If you knew Aunty Tania, you would know that she had a temper and you would not want to cross her. A little over five foot and full of fury, she was the one who taught me about fascism, terrorism and what it was like during the Cold War.

Marley: This day was about our grandmother; about our family. We already knew what had happened to our family but it was now time for the rest of this continent to face the truth. It had been 11 years since the Bringing Them Home Report was released with one of the recommendations being a formal acknowledgement and apology. It had taken 11 years for this continent's government and parliament to do the simplest thing; say sorry.

Tyson: It was a hard morning. I could feel the eyes of the other students searching me for a reaction, seeking to find meaning in the moment and guide how they should feel.

All I wanted to do was be with our father as he received the Apology on behalf of his mother, our Gumani.

– Tyson Holloway-Clarke

The woman who taught herself to read and write by penning letters and telegrams to Auber Octavius Neville, pleading to improve her lot in life as his enslaved ward. The young girl who survived Mogumber, and lived alongside the girls from The Rabbit-Proof Fence. The rebel who realised her wages were being stolen, because every other young woman in the East Perth Girls Home and the Coolbaroo Club had more money to play cards with.

The television clicked on with Kevin Rudd appearing on screen and the class fell silent.

We apologise especially for the removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families, their communities and their Country. For the pain, suffering and hurt of these Stolen Generations, their descendants and for their families left behind, we say sorry.

– Kevin Rudd, Australian Prime Minster (2008)

Marley: Hearing those words, I was winded. Sitting there as a granddaughter of a survivor of the Stolen Generations. I hadn’t realised I was holding my breath, sitting so still you could have mistaken me for a marble statue. The tears in my eyes threatened to escape. My throat was heavy with invisible cotton wool making it impossible to swallow. But I sat up straight, letting go of my knees and held my head higher. This was it. They finally admitted they were wrong and that they were sorry.

A lesson I had been taught over and over again was the importance of saying sorry. Whether that be play fighting with my siblings too rough or taking something that wasn’t mine. Saying sorry meant something.

Tyson: I barely remember Kevin Rudd issuing the Apology. It was a blur through tears I held back. But I remember Peter Dutton. Getting up out of his chair, and striding his snake ass out of the legislature. I swore on that day I would remember what he did forever, and how it spit on all of us. Apology not accepted.

When it was over, I called my Dad. We cried, but I also heard the relief in his voice. Finally, the truth had not only come to light but decency and humanity had prevailed. Years later, we still have not fully healed from this atrocity committed against our ancestral line. The wages remain stolen, and returning to Country has not been a smooth journey. Yet we endure, we survive and we strive. In the face of hatred, ignorance, and Peter Dutton we rise above, despite their best efforts to bring us down.  

Marley: It has been 17 years since I sat in that classroom; since the National Apology. But an apology without action is just a broken promise. Ask yourself, what action has been taken since that day? What has changed in the 17 years since Kevin Rudd stood in Parliament House and said sorry? Children are still being removed at an alarming rate, families are still being forcibly separated, and our Old People still carry that trauma with them every day. The National Apology was just a simple stepping stone towards the path of change.

We need to reflect on the past to change our future. If not, we will be in a continuous loop of madness. To be forever stuck with the same results of mob being disconnected, families lost to trauma too hard to speak of and children being harmed.

Sorry means you don’t do it again. Sorry means you make it right.    

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