With beauty and grace they walk. Strong and powerful, but oh so quiet and humble. A sight of culture running strong, and a glimpse of what our future holds passing you. Laughter, cheeky smiles, and the soft touch of “hey you alright aye”.

A trust one should feel privileged to have. Filled with so much knowledge those looking on would only ever dream about. Skillful, talented, determined, just to name a few. A mother’s touch and a father’s care; already alive and well. Carers of Country and for each other, instilled before being born. Responsibility only one could ever imagine but carried so effortlessly and with fierce elegance. How incredibly powerful our young mob are.

For as long as I can remember, working with young people in community has always been my passion. There’s this extraordinary light that sits within each and every young person – where if you take the time, you get the privilege to witness. It’s this resilience and power that transcends from our Ancestors. One that arrives from colonial resistance, but also the innate qualities of beauty and strength deep connected to our cultural belongings.

Yet despite this, our young people are trajected on pathways they didn’t get to choose. Undervaluing their skills and knowledge, before they’ve been given the chance to find who they truly are. Those decide who they are and where they belong before they’re born. Labels and stereotypes are given like it’s their birthright, and their journeys are decided for them before we’ve even said hello. A never-ending cycle where their success as Blackfellas are defined by the white man's standards. 

Constant media headlines, online commentary, in-person racist remarks, screaming “lock ‘em up” and “you’re nothing” at one's very first sight. People avoid responsibility by negating age from the storyline. One wouldn’t dare write that slander up about a kid, right? The current state in Alice Springs is a perfect calling to this. Young people slandered and trapped for being Black, further instigating the environment that is carrying out. Locking them away rather than listening to those who know them best. Violent words and names continually outspoken, allowing our young people to believe that this is their identity and narrative that they need to follow. 

Governments, people, neighbours, forgetting or rather ignoring, that there’s more than meets the eye. Because everything interconnects and colonisation sure hasn’t gone anywhere. They love when our young mob can kick a ball between the posts, but anything else they’ve got something to say. 

Yet despite all of this, that initial hello with every young person goes a long way, and boy what follows is something special. It’s the unwavering sense of joy, even with the damning stereotypes placed upon them. It’s this fight and spirit you’ve seen within them, though something that shouldn’t have to be felt, shines within them like a warrior always holding a shield. 

The young mob I have worked with are incredibly talented, smart, funny, full of love, and mature beyond their years. Holding so much responsibility, cultural knowledge, and care that I have not seen many adults embody themselves. I’ve worked with kids who speak five languages. Who run their own Black Lives Matter rallies. Who protect Country and sit in parliament. Putting family and community first, always. From Wurundjeri, to Palawa, to Torres Strait, to Warlpiri, from Kija to Wiradjuri and so much more, if there’s one thing I know – no matter the difference in cultures and how you practice, no matter if you speak a little to a lot of language, or if you want to be a ranger or doctor, you’re so powerful. 

I wish every young person could see their powers. If only they knew and were reminded continuously of their incredible strength and kindness. 

Dreaming of waking up to the headline everyday “the strength of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander youth” – because what a powerful story that is. From the multiple languages spoken, to being the top of your class, to the dream of being a teacher, to the gathering of bush medicine. The power of walking between two worlds. Now that’s a headline.

I exhale and softly yet demandingly gesture, hoping someone hears, “when do we let our young mob just be young mob.”

I know the Aunty’s look on is saying “don’t you worry ‘bout them bub, they’re wrong you know” – a powerful stare that keeps us going.