Thrive not survive: the Indigenous PhD journey in conversation

KEYWORDS:

• Indigenous higher degree by research students
• Indigenous methodologies
• Indigenous women
• intersectionality
• decolonizing

Introduction

With Australian Indigenous higher degree by research (HDR)¹ enrolments increasing each year, it is timely and crucial that universities and academics are aware of best practice when supporting Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students to succeed in the university environment. In 2020, Indigenous PhD students made up only 1 percent of the total HDR cohort (586 students out of a total of 58,110) across all universities in Australia, though there has been a steady increase over the past ten years, rising from 0.66 percent (Anderson et al. 2022). This is a substantial increase of 55 percent more Indigenous people entering into the HDR space (Andrews, Mazel, and Padgham 2024). However, the PhD completion rate of Indigenous HDR students has remained relatively low and unchanged due to barriers that continue to hinder their success (Anderson et al. 2022; Moreton-Robinson et al. 2020).

In October 2021, the authors participated in an episode of Griffith University’s podcast The Gender Card, a platform where guests discuss the practical application of their research. The episode, titled “Indigenous Voice and Experience Doing a PhD,” saw us discuss our PhD experiences in the Australian tertiary sector, specifically within the discipline of political science and international relations (IR), and how our identities, experiences, and cultural responsibilities shape and inform how we approach our research (Ballangarry and Pugin 2021). This article expands on the conversation chronicled below, highlighting the three themes that emerged from the podcast – cultural responsibility, tensions between Indigenous and colonial frameworks, and how best to support Indigenous HDR students – and that relate to our experiences and needs in terms of successfully completing our PhDs.

It is hoped that the International Feminist Journal of Politics (IFJP) readership will find the themes discussed insightful and relevant as the article seeks to provide a critical and engaging perspective on issues that are not usually centered. We want non-Indigenous feminist IR scholars, who are open minded and willing to learn from their realities, to understand what has worked for us as Indigenous women PhD students, so others can apply these learnings within their contexts.

Cultural responsibility

The first theme to emerge was the cultural responsibility that comes with being an Indigenous person within academia. Literature in disciplines such as Indigenous studies, education, sociology, and critical studies explores the notion of cultural responsibility, which is often linked to the “Four Rs.”² “Responsibility” refers to the researcher’s accountability to their community and the research participants, as well as the research topic and how the research is conducted (Kirkness and Barnhardt 1991; Snow et al. 2016). Further, the literature suggests that the researcher has a responsibility for the impact that the research has on their communities and those individuals within the community (Lavallée 2009; Porsanger 2004; Smith 2012; Snow et al. 2016). This section unpacks how we define cultural responsibility through our lens. In conversation, we discuss how and what led us to this space to begin with. Additionally, we share how our Indigeneity cannot be separated from our research and the importance of our research for Mob.³ We introduce ourselves through a cultural lens, which is a standard protocol for Indigenous peoples, and provide a brief outline of our research.

Julie:

I’m Julie Ballangarry, I’m a Gumbaynggirr/Dunghutti woman and my family come from northern New South Wales. My research focuses on why Indigenous education policies are continuously failing. Rather than focusing on an education perspective, I have chosen to look at it from a policy perspective. This means that I’m examining the policy-making process to identify if there are any links between that process – how policies are developed, including who develops them – and outcomes for Indigenous peoples.

Madeleine:

I’m Madeleine Pugin, a Kombumerri Saltwater woman from the Gold Coast. My research is looking at Indigenous human rights, specifically the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) and cultural rights, with a focus on group identity recognition. I have chosen to research with my community, the Kombumerri people, and use them as a case study to explore the multifaceted identities of urban Aboriginal peoples. I am aiming to determine the extent to which the UNDRIP supports or constrains our recognition as Traditional Owners in an urban context.

Julie:

Growing up, I always knew two things: first, that policies had severely impacted on Indigenous peoples, including my family, as confirmed by stories told by my father, and second, that education was one of the most important tools that I had access to, with this being constantly reinforced by my father. Ironically, it was these two things combined that made me acutely aware of the issues that were affecting Indigenous peoples across Australia. I saw first-hand how education could be used not as a means of liberation and empowerment but as a tool of indoctrination. The curriculum being taught was a “white-washed” version that made it really hard to reconcile what I knew and what my teachers were telling me. A combination of my life experiences and the cultural and historical ignorance of others from within the school system and outside of it came to shape how I viewed and understood the world. This is why I wanted to be a teacher; I wanted to be an agent of change and I felt as though being a teacher would mobilize that. When I graduated from my education degree, I worked in several Indigenous communities. At this particular point in time, the rhetoric of Closing the Gap⁴ was rife; as a young, passionate teacher, I wanted to give back to the Indigenous Australian community to tackle the notorious “gap.” However, the longer I stayed in education, the more disillusioned I became with the system. “The system is broken,” I would say to myself. It didn’t matter how hard I or my students worked, it was never good enough. This, along with my life experiences to this point, saw me exit from the education system to pursue my PhD.

Madeleine:

I made the transition to higher education and research because my community is facing an issue regarding group identity recognition and I thought that this would be a route to understanding what is happening and why, and to finding ways in which my people can be empowered to deal with it. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples are diverse, and our identities are complex, especially in urban communities along the eastern Australian coastline. We’ve experienced major disruption as a result of invasion and subsequent and ongoing colonization. My research attempts to understand how and why people identify individually and collectively, and the implications that this has for identity recognition as a group.

Julie:

It’s really important to understand that we don’t do research for the sake of doing research. We do research because we’re accountable to our communities, and we want a better future for our children, grandchildren, and future generations. But also, our ancestors have sacrificed so much for us to be here that we have to continue the good fight and the journey. Our life experiences, and those of our families, as Indigenous people is the reason why I am doing my research. And it’s the reason why a lot of us do research.

Madeleine:

Indigenous peoples worldwide fought for decades for the UNDRIP, therefore we have a responsibility to implement it. I want to help to bring the international down to the local. It’s up to us to implement the UNDRIP because non-Indigenous peoples aren’t inclined to and if we’re to achieve self-determination, we need to be the drivers, not the passengers. Thus, we as Indigenous peoples, rather than non-Indigenous people, must be the ones to undertake the research.

Julie:

I want to speak to the cyclical nature of knowledge transmission and the importance that this process has to Indigenous peoples and for future generations. One thing that I’ve come across with my research is when I’ve been speaking to those old fullas, they’ve all been saying “I want to give you this knowledge so that you can continue on.” It’s a lot to carry, but it’s a real honor, and one that I’m willing to carry. And I think that sometimes non-Indigenous people don’t understand that it’s a huge responsibility that you’re carrying on your shoulders. You’re carrying on a fight that your Elders and ancestors fought; it’s something that you’re culturally responsible for, particularly when that knowledge is imparted to you, as a knowledge holder. It’s more than just research; it’s about moving forward in the hope that future generations don’t have to experience the same adversities that we do.

Madeleine:

Let’s talk about the notion of constant cultural accountability as Indigenous researchers. Our research is about Aboriginal people and our communities, so of course we’re accountable to them. And even though they’re not always physically with us, we’re speaking for our people, and there are lots of demands on us in terms of family and community responsibilities. We’re in privileged positions and have a platform to amplify our peoples’ voices and positions within society, without doing harm. For example, there are many tools including laws, policies, and frameworks that exist within our current systems, but sometimes these can feel distant and at times even useless. That’s what my research is trying to do – to bring that international down to the local. Indigenous peoples around the world have persisted for decades in order to achieve the passing of the UNDRIP, and now it will take years – and considerable further effort on the part of Indigenous peoples – for it to be implemented. As Megan Davis (2013) says, we need to put meat on the bones of it, bring it down to our communities, and start using it.⁵ It’s up to us to apply it because non-Indigenous people probably aren’t inclined to do that. It’s about our communities and our rights that we’re essentially fighting for.

Julie:

Your research starts to pave a way in that if we can use this particular document, then maybe we can be unstoppable in the sense of making things better for our Mob. In terms of my research, it’s far more than just what the policy document looks like – that’s why I’m looking at the process of its development and formulation. It’s attitudes, it’s governance. It’s literally about us having a voice in the process because at the moment nobody is accountable for anything. The most accountable people are government, but there is currently no independent Indigenous voice mechanism there to hold them to account. And to add further insult to the current processes, it’s generally non-Indigenous people who sit at the table and tick off these policies. And so, until Indigenous peoples are involved, personally, I don’t see a lot changing for a while. The research that we both do has practical implications for our Mob and the wider Indigenous population.

Tensions between Indigenous and colonial frameworks

The second theme to emerge was the tensions that exist between Indigenous and colonial frameworks within academia and how we navigate the space within the political science and IR disciplines. For decades, Indigenous academics such as Linda Tuhiwai Smith (2012) and Lester-Irabinna Rigney (1999) have discussed and paved the way for Indigenous frameworks as a form of decolonizing the academy, particularly because research has been a Western science that is at odds with Indigenous worldviews. Western approaches tend to be about “discovery” and a generalizable truth based on data interpretation, reliability, and validity, with the aim of replication (Snow et al. 2016). These Western processes often see research as detached from its subject, which has in the past objectified and marginalized Indigenous peoples and their knowledge, leading to “research being synonymous with power and control” (Snow et al. 2016, 358). The increasing number of Indigenous researchers has thus led to an emergence of Indigenous research methods and methodologies that reflect Indigenous values, processes, discourses, and practices (Henry and Foley 2018; Kovach 2009; Rigney 1999). This theme strongly interlinks with the previous one, in that Indigenous research frameworks are interconnected, informed, and shaped by Indigenous worldviews. Our discussion highlights the difficulties that we’ve experienced during our PhD journey and outlines the implications of the systems that we’re researching, and the limitations and barriers of our discipline.

Julie:

Our discipline is quite Western colonial and we’re coming in with a different lens, a different perspective. A lot of our rights – whether it be on an international level as Indigenous peoples around the world or even at a local level – have been dictated by these systems.

Madeleine:

And we have to work within these systems and institutions that have historically oppressed us and marginalized our peoples – and at times still continue to do so. It can be uncomfortable and difficult, but it’s a means to create the change that we want to see.

Julie:

Western and Indigenous frameworks can co-exist but a paradigm shift within academia is required to allow discussion about how these two approaches can work in tandem. We need to have the cultural space to speak about something that’s happened or share our expertise, particularly as Indigenous HDR students. Academia in its current form is hierarchical, and PhD students are seen as not as knowledgeable as those with the titles. Being both Indigenous and a woman adds to the layers of (perceived) inferiority and place within the institution. An example that I can share was when I tried to explain the concept of knowledge and how you can’t just share knowledge that you’ve learned along the way (when working with Indigenous peoples) because it belongs to somebody, and you are merely being gifted the knowledge and don’t own it. I was trying to explain this to a roomful of non-Indigenous academics who were very stumped by the notion of not being able to take something and reproduce it. This is a very concise example of the tensions that exist between colonial and Indigenous frameworks. Academics within these institutions need to realize that expertise doesn’t necessarily lie with a title. You and I – along with many other Indigenous HDR students – have a wealth of knowledge and life experiences that allows us to be “experts” in our own right.

Madeleine:

Let’s discuss the additional layer of gender, particularly in terms of the voices of Indigenous female academics (Fredericks and White 2018; Fredericks et al. 2018; Johnson and Musayett 2018; Liddle 2013; Pedri-Spade 2020). Our discipline is a particularly male-dominated space, and it’s a colonial space as well. So, as Indigenous women within our discipline, I believe that we do carry a lot of responsibility in this space – trying to navigate it, finding a voice, and ensuring that that voice is heard and respected.

Julie:

Adding to your point, in my experience, non-Indigenous men function a whole lot differently to Indigenous men, particularly in the academy, which is a colonial space that is very hierarchical. If you look at government in general or positions of power specifically, they usually are male dominated. You only need to look at our government to see that it’s not representative of our nation, let alone of genders. Our discipline, in particular, does replicate that a bit.

I think too – going back to your previous point about our discipline being a male-dominated, colonial space, and the research being done, especially in our field, by non-Indigenous men – that that research is actually sometimes detrimental to Indigenous peoples. Anthropologists in particular have a lot to answer for. If you’re doing Indigenous research as a non-Indigenous researcher, your lens is completely skewed. Let’s not forget that for centuries the research practices undertaken by non-Indigenous men have been viewed through a Eurocentric male-dominated lens. It’s these practices that have shaped the academy into what it is today and have had significant implications for Indigenous peoples, particularly because the research that has been conducted has influenced ideas and perceptions of Indigenous peoples among the wider Australian public. And personally, I feel like that’s why it’s so important that we’re in this space, not only as Indigenous scholars but as Indigenous women, particularly within political science and IR. It’s hard, it’s really hard – but it's super important that we are here, and that we persevere.

How to support Indigenous HDR students

The third theme to emerge was the identification of mechanisms that have supported us to be successful in our PhD journey. This section provides an evidence base of how universities can support their Indigenous HDR students to be successful, particularly because the PhD completion rate of Indigenous HDR students remains significantly below that of their non-Indigenous counterparts (Fredericks et al. 2022). We identify four critical factors that we feel are necessary for Indigenous HDR students to thrive: mentorship and supervision, a sense of community, a culturally safe space, and financial support. We hold settler/Western academics, and the systems in which they operate, responsible for making sure that these four forms of support are provided effectively.

Julie:

You and I are very lucky because we have exceptional supervisors who are willing to go above and beyond. They are always willing to listen and learn from us as well; this is what is meant by reciprocity. And I think relationships are key to that. A lot of the time, we’re all very busy – I know that – but building those relationships is vital. You and I, coming from teaching backgrounds, know that relationship building is a crucial first step. I know that they’re not our teachers, they’re our supervisors, but it’s also inherent in our culture to build those relationships, to feel comfortable enough to say what we need, to our supervisors. It’s also how we, as Indigenous people, operate; we’re equals – there is no hierarchy.

Madeleine:

Absolutely. It’s also helpful observing our supervisors in the space [of our school and university in general] and how they operate so we can learn from them. It provides us with an opportunity to build our own academic capital. We’ve been able to develop trusting and respectful relationships with our supervisors, which has been central to our success to date. Both supervision teams understand and accept Australia’s Indigenous history and its impact on Indigenous peoples and thus on us. Further, our supervisors have taken the time to understand us and the unique life experiences that have led us to doing our research. They have always created space where it’s safe to be honest and discuss feelings and any concerns that have arisen throughout our candidature.

I have some advice for any non-Indigenous academics who may be thinking about supervising an Indigenous HDR student or may already have one. It’s really important to have a thorough understanding of our histories because they are very complex and very diverse depending on where we come from. All Indigenous communities are different, so it’s important that your supervisors go that extra mile to get to know you and your specific contexts and needs. Also having an appreciation of Indigenous methodologies, or our ways of being and doing, is really important because it’s who we are, it’s how we operate and how we see the world. I think that it’s critical to have culturally sensitive supervision. I can honestly say that if I didn’t have the supervision team that I do, I wouldn’t be here now.

Julie:

In my experience on this PhD journey, a lot of non-Indigenous people I have come across who are doing PhDs have connections with their parents being academics, or some prestigious kind of job. And we don’t necessarily have that. We don’t have that academic capital. I’ve got no family to fall back on to ask for guidance or support in navigating this level in academia. However, I have been fortunate enough to have met and maintained relationships with other Indigenous academics who have mentored me throughout the various stages of my academic journey. I always try to mentor other Indigenous students I meet along the way, including you; I always try to give back as others have so generously done for me.

Madeleine:

The second critical factor is the sense of belonging and community. The PhD experience can be very isolating as it is, but as Aboriginal people, we come from communities and we value relationships. I’m not saying that non-Indigenous people don’t, but our systems aren’t hierarchical, they aren’t individualistic, they aren’t competitive. It’s not how we operate. So, finding you – someone who can relate to and understand me while on this journey – has just been amazing. I don’t think I could get through it without you.

Julie:

I agree with you, and it’s been a real blessing meeting you because you’ve become my sister. We talk every day, and yarning through those things has been critical. If I didn’t have you, I might have dropped out a long time ago.

Madeleine:

We’re sort of like a team, even though we’re doing separate research.

Julie:

Yes, and we’re like each other’s sounding boards, so it’s like that outside perspective when you don’t have your supervisor, because you can’t just talk to your supervisor whenever you want, but I know that I always have you and vice versa. Even during COVID-19, when everyone was isolated from each other, you and I started using Microsoft Teams every day, so we’ve always had each other as a sort of support system. Our relationship initially emerged out of being the only two Indigenous women HDR students in our discipline. This has resulted in a strong foundation that has allowed us to lean on one another to navigate the PhD journey.

I also want to highlight the importance of an Indigenous enclave at Griffith University known as the Indigenous Research Unit (IRU). The IRU has been phenomenal in supporting us and the wider Indigenous HDR student cohort. The IRU has really given us a strong sense of community and has enabled us to connect with other HDR students and supported us in many ways, including support beyond the traditional scope of academia.

Madeleine:

The IRU has also been great at accommodating our requests, and created an environment where we could mix with other Aboriginal people in this space, which is also really important – as is fostering such an environment, to really enable relationships to flourish. It has enabled us to realize that we’re not alone and that there are others within this university who are on the same journey as us, even though they’re not in the same faculty. To have and to know that that network is out there has definitely been invaluable.

Julie:

The third factor, which builds on the first two, is a culturally safe space. The space that we’ve found ourselves in, particularly with our supervisors, has given us the ability to use our voices in the way that we need to – having the space to say what we feel without having to mask our cultural understandings and responsibilities, so that we can uphold our cultural obligations through the research process. As we said before, we’re the experts. So, if we need to tell certain academics that something is inappropriate – “You can’t do that” – we should have the space to do it. And I think that requires a whole lot of relearning for non-Indigenous academics. We’re very fortunate that we’ve found a lot of allies in our disciplinary school who are receptive to that feedback.

Madeleine:

Yes, having a voice and ensuring that that voice is heard is vital. If we recognize that something isn’t right outside of our research, we feel supported enough to raise that and for it to be acted on and addressed, not disregarded.

This leads to the fourth and final mechanism of support: financial support structures that help to remove barriers. The scholarships that we’re on come into play because without those we wouldn’t have been able to afford to leave teaching and pursue a PhD. If Indigenous PhD scholarships do exist, they tend to be at the standard rate, whereas ours have additional loading. You and I took a pay cut and essentially halted our teaching careers to return to study, but we were fortunate to receive an income that was higher than other scholarship offers and closer to our previous salaries. As Indigenous people, we can also have financial responsibilities to our kin. So, in this respect the scholarships meant that we could leave our full-time jobs and still maintain all of our commitments, whether they be personal or cultural.

Julie:

To add to your point, we were not “professional students” coming into the PhD; after I completed my degree, I went and taught for several years, building my career in the education field, and you have a similar story. Our skills, knowledge, and expertise add to our academic scholarship and knowledge production. Further, while we took a pay cut, we were willing to do so because of our vested interest in our research and the implications for our communities. I think that it’s important for universities to also realize that, unlike most of our non-Indigenous counterparts, we don’t necessarily have generational wealth to fall back on.

Reflections

Julie:

Transitioning out of the PhD is another obstacle, because where do we go next? If the university sector is genuinely committed to decolonizing the space, there needs to be Indigenous representation in the form of Indigenous academics. We’re not just numbers to fill quotas or to tick a box; we’re here for our Mob and we know the impact that we have by being seen in academia. The retention rate of Indigenous students across the university is well below that of our non-Indigenous counterparts. It’s imperative that we are here, so others can see that we do belong in these spaces.

Madeleine:

If we’re entering the “ivory towers,” particularly as we make up only 1 percent of the total PhD cohort across Australia, then there must be processes in place to retain and support us as early-career researchers (ECRs), so it doesn’t become a revolving door or a tokenistic approach to Indigenous equality. If the pathways into academia don’t exist for us, then they need to be created.

On further reflection, as we both approach the final stages of our PhD candidature, we share what thriving looks like and the steps that institutions should take to retain those in whom they have invested. To us, thriving is being seen, heard, included, and valued. It is being respected for the cultural knowledge and lived experience that we carry with us and bring to the table. It is being valued for our research expertise – not only being seen as “Blak”⁶ bodies to meet diversity quotas. It is being accepted for who we are – not having to leave our identities, communities, and research agendas at the door.

At an institutional level, barriers still remain. First, while there may be enclaves, they are not always aimed at supporting the specific needs of Indigenous HDR students. The voices of Indigenous HDR students need to be acknowledged and heard to be able to design programs and mechanisms that meet our needs and support our aspirations. This will ensure that Indigenous HDR students have the means of support that enable us to reach our potential. When these environments and structures do not exist, then there is little capacity to assist Indigenous HDR students to move into and remain within the ECR space. The Indigenous HDR students who immediately follow us need to have these pathways established.

Second, the exploitative nature of the academy needs to be addressed. The examples of a successful supportive supervisory team provided throughout this article should be given serious attention. The non-Indigenous academics described have successfully mentored, maintained relationships with, and nurtured us into emerging Indigenous scholars. Approaches such as theirs demonstrate key principles and values that institutions can adopt to encourage and foster cultural change in the workplace.

Third, tertiary institutions and both Indigenous and non-Indigenous academics must respect and make space for Indigenous HDR students and ECRs. This means providing HDR students and ECRs with opportunities to publish, network, and present our research findings to both academics and, more importantly, our peoples. Further, as touched on earlier, where these pathways purportedly already exist, they must be used and promoted. For example, where Reconciliation Action Plans⁷ and employment strategies have been developed and publicly published, their objectives must be met; that is, Indigenous ECRs must be employed. The failure to achieve such stated objectives and quotas plays into performative tokenism. Moreover, it also undervalues and disregards the hard work done at the micro level – in this instance, the efforts of the supervisory teams. Fundamentally, there is a need to be transparent and accountable, and to have clear policies and processes to guide and allow Indigenous researchers the choice to forward plan their careers.

Conclusion

Historically, Indigenous peoples have been excluded from the academy, being subjects rather than knowledge holders. Over the recent decades, however, Indigenous peoples have been able to enter the tertiary sector, in a variety of roles, which has enabled significant change both inside the university space and in broader society. Understanding that the academy has always been a place of hierarchy and whiteness, where Western science has prevailed as the only objective truth, is the first step in moving the sector forward to creating spaces for Indigenous scholars and Indigenous knowledges. This understanding will aid universities in recognizing both the cultural obligations of Indigenous researchers and the tensions that they experience between Indigenous and colonial frameworks. Further, this will ensure that actions can be taken to explicitly support Indigenous HDR students to make it through their PhD candidature.

However, it is not enough for Indigenous HDR students to simply survive the academy; they need be able to reach their full potential and excel within it. This means that measures cannot be of a tokenistic nature. Pathways for Indigenous ECRs are crucial for retention and representation. In order to transform the space, Indigenous HDR students, ECRs, and scholars need to be on an equal footing with non-Indigenous academics, through the redistribution of power. Only then will they be able to thrive.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the authors.

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Julie Ballangarry

Julie Ballangarry is a proud Gumbaynggirr/Dunghutti woman, and a PhD candidate and lecturer at Griffith University, Australia. Previously, she was a schoolteacher and worked in several remote and low-socioeconomic-status (SES) Indigenous community schools. She is passionate about Indigenous education and the educational outcomes of Indigenous students. She is enthusiastic about supporting Indigenous students to reach their potential in any education setting and seeing them thrive. Her professional and life experience around working with and supporting Indigenous students shaped her PhD research, which explored why Indigenous education polices are continuously failing by investigating current approaches to policy making in the Australian context. She submitted her PhD in January 2024 and looks forward to continuing to research how systems and processes, particularly public policy, can be inclusive of Indigenous voices, knowledges, and rights.

Madeleine Pugin

Madeleine Pugin is a Kombumerri woman of the Gold Coast and a PhD candidate at Griffith University, Australia. Her research is focusing on the UNDRIP, specifically cultural rights, and the struggle of identity and recognition of her people as the Traditional Owners of their Country. As a former high-school English teacher, she is interested in Indigenous education as well as Aboriginal history, Indigenous politics, and feminism.

Notes

1 HDR, as defined under the Australian Qualifications Framework, is a program where the assessable content by research represents more than two-thirds of the total assessable content for a PhD qualification.

2 The “Four Rs” are respect, relevance, reciprocity, and responsibility (Kirkness and Barnhardt 1991).

3 “Mob” is a term used in Aboriginal English to refer to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.

4 Closing the Gap is a national Australian policy that seeks to address the social and economic disadvantage of Indigenous peoples. The policy uses metrics to compare Indigenous and non-Indigenous indicators to measure progress. To date, the policy has been unsuccessful and has recently undergone a “refresh.”

5 Megan Davis is Indigenous (Cobble Cobble) woman and scholar from Australia who specializes in international human rights law. Davis’ work extends internationally through roles at the United Nations (UN), whereby she has continued to have extensive involvement with UN mechanisms.

6 “Blak” is a term that conveys a specifically critical-political conscience, which differs from the racialized experiences of other communities (Latimore 2021).

7 Reconciliation Action Plans (RAPs) assist organizations to embed the principles and purpose of reconciliation and to sustainably and strategically take meaningful action to advance reconciliation in Australia. RAPs are based around the core pillars of relationships, respect, and opportunities, provide tangible and substantive benefits for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, and increase economic equity and support for First Nations self-determination in Australia (Reconciliation Australia 2024).