Honouring NAIDOC
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When we honour NAIDOC, we awaken the oldest song of this land, a song not written in books, but carved into stone, whispered through smoke, and carried on the wings of the wind. It is a song that predates empires and borders, older than time as we measure it, born from the Dreaming when Ancestors shaped the mountains, the rivers, the stars. This song does not belong to history, it is alive. It sings in the gum leaves that sway like dancers, in the clapsticks that echo the heartbeat of Country, in the eyes of Elders who carry entire worlds behind their silence.
NAIDOC - National Aboriginal and Islander Day Observance Committee, began as a movement of resistance and resilience, rooted in protest and carried forward in pride. It exists to celebrate the history, culture, and achievements of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. But it is more than a week in July. It is a call to remember and reckon with truth. It is a moment to reflect on what has been survived, and what still must be restored.
When we honour NAIDOC, we awaken the oldest song of this land, and in doing so, we confront the sacred and the scarred. We feel the presence of the massacres and the missions, of children taken and cultures silenced, of sacred sites desecrated in the name of progress. But we also feel the defiance, the power of survival, the way language has found its way home, how stories are told anew with pride, how the ashes of pain have birthed flames of resistance. It is in this contrast that NAIDOC lives, not just celebration, but ceremony. Not just memory, but movement.
When we honour NAIDOC, we awaken the oldest song of this land, and we must listen with more than ears. We must listen with humility. With reverence. With the willingness to unlearn, and to see the truths this land carries in its soil: that sovereignty was never ceded, that treaties remain unwritten, that healing requires truth before reconciliation. This is not just about looking back; it’s about looking deeper, into ourselves, into our shared future, into the soul of a country still learning how to be whole.
When we honour NAIDOC, we awaken the oldest song of this land, not by speaking over it, but by making space. By lifting First Nations voices to the centre, not as guests in their own home, but as the guides, the teachers, the sovereign keepers of Country. We awaken this song by walking beside, not ahead, not behind, and letting the wisdom of 65,000 years reframe what leadership, knowledge, and community truly mean. In doing so, we begin to see that healing is not a favour to be given, but a responsibility to be lived.
When we honour NAIDOC, we awaken the oldest song of this land, and in its rhythm, we find our place. Whether you descend from long lines of Dreaming or are newly learning to listen, this song welcomes you, not with comfort, but with clarity. It asks: Will you carry the fire? Will you pass the message stick? Will you be part of the weaving, where all threads matter, but the pattern begins with the First Peoples?
When we honour NAIDOC, we awaken the oldest song of this land, and in that sacred sound, we remember: we are guests on an ancient, breathing Country. To honour NAIDOC is not a duty bound by dates; it is a spiritual reckoning, a moral realignment, a chance to co-create a nation where justice is not seasonal and culture is not token, but central, sacred, sovereign.
NAIDOC - National Aboriginal and Islander Day Observance Committee, began as a movement of resistance and resilience, rooted in protest and carried forward in pride. It exists to celebrate the history, culture, and achievements of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. But it is more than a week in July. It is a call to remember and reckon with truth. It is a moment to reflect on what has been survived, and what still must be restored.
When we honour NAIDOC, we awaken the oldest song of this land, and in doing so, we confront the sacred and the scarred. We feel the presence of the massacres and the missions, of children taken and cultures silenced, of sacred sites desecrated in the name of progress. But we also feel the defiance, the power of survival, the way language has found its way home, how stories are told anew with pride, how the ashes of pain have birthed flames of resistance. It is in this contrast that NAIDOC lives, not just celebration, but ceremony. Not just memory, but movement.
When we honour NAIDOC, we awaken the oldest song of this land, and we must listen with more than ears. We must listen with humility. With reverence. With the willingness to unlearn, and to see the truths this land carries in its soil: that sovereignty was never ceded, that treaties remain unwritten, that healing requires truth before reconciliation. This is not just about looking back; it’s about looking deeper, into ourselves, into our shared future, into the soul of a country still learning how to be whole.
When we honour NAIDOC, we awaken the oldest song of this land, not by speaking over it, but by making space. By lifting First Nations voices to the centre, not as guests in their own home, but as the guides, the teachers, the sovereign keepers of Country. We awaken this song by walking beside, not ahead, not behind, and letting the wisdom of 65,000 years reframe what leadership, knowledge, and community truly mean. In doing so, we begin to see that healing is not a favour to be given, but a responsibility to be lived.
When we honour NAIDOC, we awaken the oldest song of this land, and in its rhythm, we find our place. Whether you descend from long lines of Dreaming or are newly learning to listen, this song welcomes you, not with comfort, but with clarity. It asks: Will you carry the fire? Will you pass the message stick? Will you be part of the weaving, where all threads matter, but the pattern begins with the First Peoples?
When we honour NAIDOC, we awaken the oldest song of this land, and in that sacred sound, we remember: we are guests on an ancient, breathing Country. To honour NAIDOC is not a duty bound by dates; it is a spiritual reckoning, a moral realignment, a chance to co-create a nation where justice is not seasonal and culture is not token, but central, sacred, sovereign.
When we honour NAIDOC, we awaken the oldest song of this land, and if we truly listen, we may finally hear not just what Australia is, but what it has the potential to become.
Nina Wright, Kokatha and Narungga Artist, Writer & Healer