http://www.nit.com.au/News/story.aspx?

id=6371

Cathy Freeman carries the Aboriginal and Australian flags at the

1994 Commonwealth games, in defiance of instructions from team
officials. She risked expulsion from athletics, but in the process
won the hearts of a nation.

Great Acts of Dissent: A look back in time

Issue 97

Two flags are better than one?

Many consider Cathy Freeman’s famous victory lap carrying the Aboriginal and Australian flags as an act of reconciliation,
rather than dissent.

But those who do forget that Freeman nearly got herself banned from the Australian Athletics team in the process.

It all happened at the Commonwealth Games in Victoria, Canada in 1994. After winning gold in the 400 metres, Freeman
embarked on a victory lap and on her way spotted a friend in the crowd holding an Aboriginal flag. It was offered to her,
Freeman accepted and then continued on, grabbing an Australian flag a short time later and carrying both.

Freeman says she never intended to cause controversy, but that’s exactly what happened. It was front page news back
home and Commonwealth Games officials were livid and ordered her never to repeat what some deemed a deliberate
political act.

Freeman went on to win a rare double - the 200 metres gold medal as well. She set off on another victory lap - again she
carried both the Australian and the Aboriginal flags.

It was - and remains - the most overt and polarising act of dissent by an Aboriginal person in Australian sporting history.

Surveys at the time revealed furious Commonwealth team organisers and rabid media commentators were out of step with
popular opinion - the vast majority of Australians thought Freeman’s act was truly inspired. Her star has risen ever since.

Proud to be black

For many Australians, AFL is a religion. And for St Kilda supporters, Neil Elvis Winmar, aka Nicky, was - and remains - their
spiritual leader.
But for many Indigenous Australians, Winmar is even bigger than God.

In 1993, Winmar was being racially (and relentlessly) abused by a pocket of angry Collingwood supporters. They were
furious that Winmar had spent the entire match tearing the Magpies’ defence to pieces.

Fed up with the abuse, Winmar eventually turned to the Collingwood faithful, lifted his shirt and pointed to his black skin.

The gesture was captured by a photographer on the ground and the image was beamed around the world.

Winmar became the face of Aboriginal resistance to the ugly face of sporting racism.

A Long fight against racism

Michael Long, another AFL legend, followed in the footsteps of Winmar in 1995, when he forced the football code to confront
racism in sport head-on.

After an Anzac Day match, Long complained to officials that he had been racially abused by a player in front of several
referees.

Long’s club, Essendon, backed him and lodged an official complaint with the AFL.

The code’s hierarchy promptly set about trying to hush the whole incident up.

After more than a week of intense media scrutiny, the AFL held a press conference and announced the complaint had been
successfully settled, but that no penalty would be imposed against the offending player.

The AFL was hoping Long would cop it on the chin. He didn’t. And neither did the Essendon Football Club, its coach Kevin
Sheedy or the other Aboriginal players in the AFL.

They kicked up an almighty stink. The AFL held out, but two weeks later, a second Aboriginal player came forward alleging
he had been racially abused.

It sparked a fresh round of media scrutiny. The AFL was facing a public relations diaster.

It publicly released a letter admitting racism was a problem in sport.

Two months after Long’s original complaint, the AFL introduced a racial vilification rule.

Long’s legacy lasts to this day... although it did take some clubs a while to catch on.

In response to the new rule, the Collingwood Cheer Squad’s pre-game banner carried the message ‘Sticks and stones may
break my bones but names will never hurt me’. A letter writer to a daily Melbourne newspaper best summed up the feelings
of the majority of AFL fans when he suggested Collingwood should change its acronym title from CFC to KKK. No wonder
everyone hates Collingwood.

The shiny white cliffs of Dover

Harry Penrith was born into a typically poor Aboriginal family at Wallaga Lake near Narooma on the NSW South Coast on
January 10, 1936.

Harry took the name of his great grandfather - Burnum Burnum - which means Great Warrior. And that’s what young Harry
went on to become.

During his time at the University of Tasmania in the late 1960s, Burnum Burnum led a movement to reclaim the remains of
Truganini from the Tasmanian Museum for reburial.

But it was his actions in 1988 that constituted one of the great acts of modern day Aboriginal dissent.

On the morning of January 26, the 200th anniversary of the arrival of the First Fleet in Australia, Burnum Burnum travelled to
the white cliffs of Dover in England and planted the Aboriginal flag, claiming possession of England on behalf of the
Aboriginal people of Australia.

It was a purely symbolic gesture, of course, and it went somewhat unnoticed in Australia - celebrations of the founding of the
white Australian nation were at fever pitch.

But Burnum Burnum’s act did not go unnoticed around the world and today it has adopted ‘legend status’ as one of the truly
memorable acts of dissent.

Sadly, Burnum Burnum died in 1997 from heart disease.