The following is an extract from our brand new publication You Plus Me Equals Us available for purchase here.

My grandmother was taken from her family under the policy that removed Aboriginal children. My father was in a home from age five; it was only as an adult that he went to find his family. I was about 12 then but even as a child, I had seen how not knowing who he was, or his place in the community, was a burden he carried. Once he could do that, it was a source of immense pride for him. He immersed himself in the culture, spent time in our traditional area, recorded the language, and helped others find their families. He became a different father.

Reconciliation in action
My father talked about land rights, sovereignty and dispossession. I grew up proud of my heritage more because my non-Aboriginal mother instilled pride in who I was, and her sense of social justice. Her politics complemented my father’s. That’s an important part of reconciliation: supporting him on that journey and nurturing her children’s pride in their heritage. To her, it wasn’t about politics, it was simply being human.

Studying law
As a teenager I had a natural interest in Aboriginal politics, and I expected as a law graduate to become an advocate for social justice and law reform. But as a solicitor at the Legal Aid Commission, I was not making a real difference. At law school my brother Jason and I had written about police brutality and other issues, so I was keen to study further. After completing my doctorate at Harvard Law School I saw that academia would allow me to address the important issues, do good research and analysis, and be outspoken.

Policy failure
Resolving the economic inequality is a good benchmark, but there have been no real inroads, especially in health, education and housing. There is irrefutable evidence of what works, but governments ignore this and focus on ideologies and schemes that play well to the public.

The boarding schools model has merits for parents who are happy for their children to be educated in that way. It’s cheaper for governments than investing in infrastructure and teacher training. But there is no support for those who want to stay in their community. Sometimes they have no classrooms or no desks.

Similarly, the idea that home ownership will create intergenerational wealth is fanciful. Aboriginal people are asked to invest in places where houses are worth nothing, in an asset that’s worth less than they paid for it.

I have to be hopeful that things can change. But after working through the Howard era and then seeing rights eroded and lost under the ALP government, I feel dispirited. Most Australians seem happy with policies that are not working. ‘As long as they’re doing something’ seems to be the attitude.

The vibrancy of culture
‘Closing the gap’ assumes that the only aim is to be equal. The main parties are not focused on protecting Aboriginal cultural heritage or languages, or valuing traditional knowledges.

Aboriginal people aim to have the same opportunities and living standards as other Australians but equally, they want to keep their cultures alive.

The missing piece is government investment in human capital and skills. The communities with the fewest social problems are those with a robust culture. It creates a strong social fabric and gives elders moral authority.

Communities finding solutions
We see gains where Aboriginal people have been able to take the most responsibility – for example when they have individually made a commitment to education.

Far more is achieved, uncredited, by Aboriginal people who get tired of the lack of services, the substandard housing. Often the measures that work are those started locally without help, such as the school breakfast and lunch programs. They counter the government’s assertions that Aboriginal people do not want to fix their own problems.

A framework for human rights
A strong rights framework should accompany evidenced-based policies. There should be minimum standards of rights protection – such as basic health care. We have no bill of rights, so Australians don’t think of themselves as having rights that can hold governments accountable. This makes it harder for Aboriginal people to talk about rights like native title, hunting and fishing.

Any legislative change must come with constitutional changes, including recognition of the unique position and rights of Aboriginal people and a protection from racial discrimination.

Reconciliation: community action
Some see the reconciliation movement as focused on ways to make non-Indigenous Australians comfortable with Indigenous people. But local reconciliation groups work differently. They campaigned for the symbolic importance of an apology and engage at the grassroots: recognising significant places and events, education programs, welcomes to country. It’s been a genuine people’s movement.

Even when there’s open hostility at the leadership at national level, they still pursue dialogue with the Aboriginal communities they live alongside. They’re making real changes to how their community works.

Change through education 
At UTS we had only two students 15 years ago. We now have over 360. Every time an Aboriginal person enrols here – many of them mature-age students – we know there is a person whose whole family is changing. They’re role models, taking families out of the cycle of poverty and building up their communities.

The impact of storytelling
Writing fiction is a way of spreading the truth. I have found that it’s possible to reach more people through novels than arguments for law reform. In Home I tried to link up the story of my family and the facts with a fictional narrative that aims to teach as well touch people. The novel is now a prescribed university text. I underestimated how powerful storytelling can be in getting a message to a wider audience.

Named 2009 NAIDOC Person of the Year, Larissa Behrendt is Professor of Law at the Jumbunna Indigenous House of Learning, UTS, Sydney. Her novel Home won the 2002 David Uniapon Award and a 2005 Commonwealth Writer’s Prize.