“She’s Always Been a Fighter for Me”: Indigenous Mothers as Advocates and Defenders of Their LGBTIQSB + Children

Abstract

There is no research into the experiences of Indigenous LGBTIQSB + young people and their mothers in the country now known as Australia. Based on a series of nine narrative interviews with young LGBTIQSB + people living in New South Wales, this article is the first to discuss Indigenous LGBTIQSB + children’s relationship with their Indigenous mothers. Indigenous mothers have been framed in ways that justified targeted settler state interventions situated within broader racialised biopolitical governance practices and the regulation of Indigenous lives. The findings of this research project provide a counter narrative to the current framing of Indigenous mothers and families as dysfunctional and in need of intervention by state and welfare agencies. Indigenous LGBTIQSB + young people speak to their experiences of coming out and the ways their Indigenous mothers defended, affirmed and advocated for them. Participants spoke of how Indigenous mothers provided them with protective skills and strategies that allowed them to effectively navigate close and extended familial and community contexts. This article demonstrates the significance of Indigenous mothering practices and values for the wellbeing of their LGBTIQSB + children.

Keywords:

• Indigenous
• mothers
• LGBT
• children
• Australia

Introduction

This article is about compassion, understanding, affirmation and the strength of the relationship between Indigenous LGBTIQSB+ (Lesbian, Gay, Trans, Intersex, Queer, Sistergirl, Brotherboy) children and their Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander mothers in the country now known as Australia. Although not used across all Indigenous communities or by all Indigenous trans people (Sullivan, 2018), Sistergirls are often translated as “transwomen” and Brotherboys as “transmen”, but this is not a completely accurate depiction as it ignores Indigenous understandings of gender diversity (Riggs & Toone, 2017). To the best of our knowledge, there is no research into Indigenous LGBTIQSB + children and their relationship with their Indigenous mothers in this country.

In addition, the strengths-based literature on Indigenous mothering is very limited. Indigenous mothering, family and community life in Australia have been framed within a colonial settler view that constructs Indigenous communities, families, parents and, in particular, mothers as dysfunctional, inept and lacking the capabilities required to raise children (Parkes & Zufferey, 2019; Zufferey & Buchanan, 2019). Parkes and Zufferey (2019) argue that in Australia “a ‘good mother’ is usually assumed to be ‘white’ middle-class and married, and this is intrinsically linked to conceptions of the nuclear family and a constraining of women’s roles to the realm of domestic labour” (p. 229). Mothering is constructed in Australia as focusing primarily on their biological children and nuclear family, even to the detriment of other family, community members or other commitments, or what call Parkes and Zufferey call “intensive mothering” (2019, p. 113). This framing constructs the biological mother as the primary family member able to provide suitable care for their children.

Indigenous mothering

Even though they are increasingly influenced by the heteronormative and heteropatriarchal values imposed on them by white settler institutions, Indigenous families and communities have tried to maintain Indigenous values and practices about appropriate ways to raise children (Atkinson & Swain, 1999; Nelson & Allison, 2000; Parkes, 2019; Parkes & Zufferey, 2019; Walter, 2017). In effect, “Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, regardless of geographic location, ‘do’ family outside normalized [sic] Euro-Australian parameters” (Walter, 2017, p. 123). Although it is obviously not true in all cases given the impact of colonization, Indigenous mothers (and families) have been found to have a more holistic view of mothering that encompasses their biological children as well as other children within and beyond their immediate community (Atkinson & Swain, 1999; Parkes, 2019; Walter, 2017). In Indigenous communities, child rearing is often not seen as an individual activity but is founded on the active involvement of other community members (Atkinson & Swain, 1999; Parkes & Zufferey, 2019; Walter, 2017). Mothering and parenting more generally are considered a shared, collective responsibility. Caring for and rearing children within community and Indigenous family social life are based on kinship networks and extended families (Atkinson & Swain, 1999; Nelson & Allison, 2000). Indigenous child rearing practices also promote behaviors that are contrary to non-Indigenous child rearing, such as, for example, promoting children’s independence and self-sufficiency over obedience and dependency, reprimanding children rather than punishing them (Walter, 2017).

The Australian state’s framing of Indigenous mothers and, by extension, Indigenous families and communities, has been used since colonization as an excuse for state, church and welfare interventions into Indigenous communities. Catastrophic state interventions founded on this deficit based framing demonstrate the Australian settler state’s approach to Indigenous families that predicate continual attacks on Indigenous land and native title rights: The Stolen Generation and the Northern Territory Emergency Response (NTER).These practices are in keeping with the Australian settler states attempts at further forcibly displacing Indigenous populations and contemporary discriminatory policies that favor migrant settler populations over Indigenous peoples, systematically attempting to extinguish preexisting claims to Indigenous custodianship of lands and waters (Veracini, 2010). ‘The Stolen Generation’ was the systematic removal of Indigenous children from their purportedly dysfunctional families resulting in intergenerational trauma and grief that still adversely affects every Indigenous community across Australia (Commonwealth of Australia, 1997). An Inquiry by the Australian Human Rights and Equal Opportunities Commission (HREOC) into the history of the ‘Stolen Generation’ found that Indigenous children were forcibly removed without evidence of neglect or abuse. In effect neglect was just assumed: “In contrast with the removal of non-Indigenous children, proof of ‘neglect’ was not always required before an Indigenous child could be removed. Their Aboriginality would suffice” (Commonwealth of Australia, 1997, p. 9).

A continuation of this kind of racialised policy was the 2007 NTER known as the ‘Intervention’ (Anderson & Wild, 2007). During the NTER, the federal government enacted punitive measures that penalized Indigenous families and communities. These included suspending the Racial Discrimination Act 1975, alongside the implementation of a raft of racialised, draconian interventions and conditional welfare measures imposed on Indigenous communities (The Castan Centre for Human Rights Law, 2020; Churcher, 2018). The federal government’s declaration of a national emergency allowed it to send in the police and military to seize control of Indigenous settlements, further extinguishing their land rights and sovereignty and effectively ending NT Indigenous communities’ custodianship of their lands and waters: “the government removed the permit system that enabled Aboriginal communities to control who has access to their land; implemented alcohol restrictions; quarantined welfare payments; and introduced a compulsory income management scheme” (Churcher, 2018, p. 57). These measures led to increased discrimination, hardship and loss of sovereignty with no evidence that these measures improved family and community wellbeing (The Castan Centre for Human Rights Law, 2020; Churcher, 2018). Rather, the imposition of these kinds of ill conceived, poorly designed, and highly racialised state interventions have made Indigenous life courses and lifeways increasingly difficult and arduous. Indigenous lifeways are social, cultural and political ways of being that have persisted from before colonization (Whyte, 2016) resisting, in this case, the imposition of non-Indigenous heteronormative ways imposed by the Australian colonial settler state since 1788 on the daily lives of Indigenous LGBTIQSB + people. This is reflected in settler state policies that attempted to impose non-Indigenous heteronormative values that viewed marriage and intimate relationships as being based on the gender binary.

LGBTIQSB + children & their mothers

It is generally accepted that mothers and other family members play a crucial role in the wellbeing and life courses of their children (Aaron & Rostosky, 2019; Abreu & Gonzalez, 2020; Ishii, 2018; Rosenkrantz et al., 2020; Tamagawa, 2018). However, there is nothing substantive written about Indigenous LGBTIQSB + children and their relationship with their Indigenous mothers in Australia. Although there is an emerging body of research on mothering and LGBTIQ + children this evidence base does not usually include Indigenous LGBTIQ + families (Aaron & Rostosky, 2019; Abreu & Gonzalez, 2020; Ishii, 2018; Rosenkrantz et al., 2020; Tamagawa, 2018). The majority of the literature about LGBTIQ + people, their families and communities tends to investigate white, non-Indigenous LGBTIQ + people living in the United States (Abreu & Gonzalez, 2020). Of these studies, very few include analysis on the role of culture, ethnicity or race in the lives of LGBTIQ + people and when they do, a common theme is that people of color and Indigenous families and communities are unsupportive and hostile to sexuality and gender diversity (Abreu & Gonzalez, 2020).

The literature on race and community that does exist on LGBTIQ + people and family does highlight the importance of context to better understanding the structural and personal factors that influence parenting of LGBTIQ + children. Important factors in the relationship between LGBTIQ + children and their families include the strength of heteropatriarchal and heteronormative values, gender identities, and gendered roles in families. Some studies show that different cultures have differing gendered values about child rearing, with normative expectations based on the relative strength of heteropatriarchal and heteronormative values about the gendered role of women and men in the family (Ishii, 2018; Tamagawa, 2018). Within strongly heteropatriarchal families, for example, mothers are seen as the primary caregiver responsible for child rearing, and children often spend more time with their mothers and develop deeper, more intimate emotional connections with them (Aaron & Rostosky, 2019; Brainer, 2017; Svab & Kuhar, 2014; Tamagawa, 2018). This has been found to influence the ways in which mothers respond to their child’s disclosure of gender and sexuality diversity (Aaron & Rostosky, 2019; Brainer, 2017) with many mothers having a more emotional response to their children due to the closeness of their relationship with their children (Allen et al., 2021; Brainer, 2017). Allen et al. (2021), for example, reported that LGBTIQ + sons, “described their mothers’ positive, emotional, and verbal responses as being more understanding and compassionate, which made conversations about sexual identity, sexual wants, and sexual desires more accessible” (p. 402).

Although much of the literature looks more broadly at parenting, in order to better understand why our participants spoke so much about their mothers, here we only interrogate what the literature says about Indigenous LGBTIQSB + children and their experiences with their Indigenous mothers. The gender of family members is important, with an emerging body of evidence demonstrating that women tend to be more open and supportive of their trans children, as well as cis-identified LGBTIQ + sons and daughters (Aaron & Rostosky, 2019; Allen et al., 2021; Brainer, 2017; Ishii, 2018; Nagoshi et al., 2008; Norton & Herek, 2013; Rosenkrantz et al., 2020; Svab & Kuhar, 2014; Tamagawa, 2018). Although it is not always the case that mothers accept and support their children straight away, experiences of mothering LGBTIQ + children mean that they can change their attitudes and behaviors from being negative to positive (Johnson & Benson, 2014; Kuvalanka et al., 2014; Rosenkrantz et al., 2020). Mothers of LGBTIQ + children have also been strong advocates for their LGBTIQ + children within family and community (Johnson & Benson, 2014; Kuvalanka et al., 2014; Rosenkrantz et al., 2020). Stories by Japanese parents about acceptance of their trans children found that mothers were seen by their children as being more likely to accept their children than their fathers, for example (Ishii, 2018). Tamagawa’s (2018) study of LGBT coming out experiences with parents, coworkers and friends in Japan also found that LGBT children found it easier to come out to their mothers and coworkers than to their fathers. Mothers were viewed by their LGBT children as being more familiar with LGBT issues, more adaptable, and more permissive than their fathers (Tamagawa, 2018). Overall, this small body of literature shows an emerging, albeit limited, sense that LGBTIQ + children view their mothers as more positive, more approachable, more supportive and more likely to affirm their child’s gender and sexuality diversity than other family members. This resonates strongly with this project’s findings, in which the majority of participants spoke about the positive role their mothers played during coming out, as advocates and in affirming their gender and sexuality diversity.

Impact of family & community acceptance for Indigenous LGBTIQSB + youth

Although not directly addressing the issue of Indigenous LGBTIQ + children and their mothers, there is a small body of international research that tangentially contains information on the wider impact of family and community on Indigenous LGBTIQ + health and wellbeing. Indigenous LGBTIQ + people report, for example, higher levels of interpersonal violence and abuse within families such as LGBTIQ + phobia, micro and macro aggressions, for example (Balsam et al., 2004; Lehavot et al., 2010; Uink et al., 2020; Walters et al., 2002). Families and community reactions are most often reported as being mixed, some supportive and positive, others openly hostile and even aggressive (Balsam et al., 2004; Lehavot et al., 2010; Uink et al., 2020; Walters et al., 2002). Authors such as Walters et al. (2002) argue that cultural buffers such as supportive families and communities are key to Indigenous LGBTIQ + wellbeing. The cultural buffers of supportive family members and community acceptance moderate the impact of sociocultural stressors such as racism, homophobia and transphobia.

Similar themes are also found in the limited Australian literature regarding the significant impact of family violence on Indigenous LGBTIQSB + young people’s wellbeing. Violence and abuse within family contexts created stressors for Indigenous LGBTIQSB + people that have been shown to result in high levels of depression, suicidality and poor wellbeing (Bonson, 2017; Dudgeon et al., 2015; Kerry, 2018a, 2018b; Riggs & Toone, 2017; Uink et al., 2020). In a similar way to the international literature, research in Australia highlights the ways in which community and family responses are mixed and changing over time, reporting both acceptance within community as well as gender based violence and abuse (Coe, 2022; Dudgeon et al., 2015; Hill et al., 2022; Liddelow-Hunt et al., 2021; Riggs & Toone, 2017; Spurway et al., 2022). A more recent report from Australia also showed that, although Indigenous communities generally were not viewed by Indigenous LGBTIQ + participants as supportive of gender and sexuality diversity, Indigenous LGBTIQ + young people in Western Australia still emphasized the importance of their relationships with close family members (mothers, fathers, aunts, etc.) (Liddelow-Hunt et al., 2021). Strong family relationships were viewed by the young participants as critical for their overall wellbeing, and strong family relationships positively supported their identities and connection to culture (Liddelow-Hunt et al., 2021).

The authors of this article acknowledge that relationships within Indigenous families and communities are complex, dynamic and diverse and that Indigenous families include other members of family and community that are not related to them by birth (Walter, 2017). However, this article will focus on narratives from young Indigenous LGBTIQSB + people that highlight their relationships with their Indigenous biological mothers. This decision was taken as the narratives were so overwhelmingly positive when participants spoke about their Indigenous mothers and was such an important topic for participants. In addition, this article provides completely new information about the complexity, strength and closeness of the relationship between Indigenous mothers and their LGBTIQSB + children and a strong counternarrative to the current framings of Indigenous mothers in Australia.

Methods

This article is one of several outputs from a research project funded by the Australian National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC) under its Targeted Call 2018 Indigenous Social and Emotional Wellbeing Funding Round (Grant ID: 1157377). The larger NHMRC project aimed to improve understanding of young First Nations LGBTIQSB + people’s wellbeing and their experiences and aspirations regarding service provision. This article uses nine interviews from a total of 16 interviews with Indigenous LGBTIQSB + young people living in NSW aged 14-25 years who reported having Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander mothers. Seven participants’ narratives were not used because they did not have Indigenous mothers. Almost all of the participants transcripts used here are cis-women or cis-men. Unfortunately, there were no sistergirls recruited for the project, however, the team recruited a brotherboy and one trans/non-binary person. However, only the trans/non-binary person identified their mother as Indigenous and their stories are included in this article.

This article focuses on Indigenous mothers because of the overwhelmingly positive response from the nine participants regarding the importance of their Indigenous mothers’ acceptance and support. These participants spoke in depth about their mothers and told long stories about the various ways Indigenous mothers supported their LGBTIQSB + children. Other relatives were mentioned much less in comparison and participants did not provide much rich detail about other family and community members. This was significant, as Indigenous mothers have been targeted by the Australian state for more than 200 years as being inept and incapable, and the research team believed there was a need to provide a strength-based counternarrative.

Participants were recruited using Indigenous LGBTIQSB + social networks, radio, social media posts and service provider networks. Service providers who supported and assisted with recruitment included ACON, BlaQ, Twenty10 (Incorporating the Gay & Lesbian Counseling Service), Campbelltown City Council, and Infant Child Adolescent Mental Health (ICAMHS) in NSW Health. Participants attended either in person or online, interviews were approximately one hour in length. Prior to the Covid-19 pandemic, interviews were held as much as possible in person at accessible, safe Indigenous spaces such as the Kimberwalli Center in Western Sydney. However, the Covid-19 pandemic and government restrictions in New South Wales in 2020-2021 meant that interviews were then held online. Interviews took place initially face to face but were moved online in 2020-2021 due to the Covid-19 pandemic and government health orders.

Participants identified as members of various Indigenous nations and language groups including the Birpai, Bundjalung, Djangadi, Gumbayngirr, Kamilaroi, Meriam, Murri, Muruwari, Mineng/Noongar, Nunukul, Wakka Wakka, Wiradjuri, Wuthathi and Yuin peoples. Many participants identified with more than one First Nations people and also had intersecting genders and sexualities including Bisexual, Brotherboy, Gay, Lesbian, Demisexual, Non-Binary, Queer and Trans. Participants all lived in urban areas, mostly located within the greater Sydney area, with one participant from a small regional urban center located in the northern tablelands of NSW.

The authors acknowledge the importance of critically evaluating their positionality as this will impact on the analysis and interpretation of data collected in this project. However, best practice is founded on the idea that no author should be forced to disclose their identities if they do not want to. The authors feel that a general statement is more appropriate given the dominance of toxic heteronormativity, the need for the authors to feel safe and to choose who they will disclose to and when. When the manuscript of this article was drafted, some authors identified as queer cis-women or cis-men, with three of the six authors identifying as members of the Wiradjuri, Tingha, Birra Gubba, Wakka Wakka, Tongan, and Dunghutti peoples. The other three authors identified as being from Jewish, Istro-Romanian/Croatian and Anglo-Celtic backgrounds.” Questions used in the interviews were codesigned by the research team in the early stages of the project in close consultation with ACON Aboriginal Project and BlaQ Aboriginal Corporation. Field research was conducted by researchers from both Western Sydney University and BlaQ Aboriginal Corporation. Preliminary data analysis was carried out by an experienced qualitative researcher from the WSU team with later analytic stages involving researchers from WSU and BlaQ Aboriginal Corporation. All authors had access to transcripts in order to double check analyses reflected information provided by participants.

Each participant’s interview was thematically analyzed to allow for concepts and themes to emerge. The analysis was inductive, that is, analysis started with pre-conceived concepts but also allowed themes to emerge during analysis (Charmaz, 2014). Analysis used different levels of open, axial and selective coding as foundational techniques to interrogate the text (Charmaz, 2014; Strauss & Corbin, 2014). The research team initially read through the transcripts to open up the text and identify broad themes that lead to more in-depth examination. Interview transcripts were then read line by line to further capture common themes and conceptual categories. Themes were organized into categories, identifying key relationships and linkages between cases (participants) and concepts (Charmaz, 2014; Strauss & Corbin, 2014). Using an iterative approach, the themes and categories built on each other and generated higher levels of abstraction and concepts, which then informed later stages and generated increasingly meaningful and thick description. Researchers constantly referred back to the interviews to make sure that the emerging themes maintained a close relationship to the original texts.

This article was reviewed by First Nations LGBTIQSB + people on the project’s NSW Indigenous Research Governance group, and the NSW Aboriginal Health and Medical Research Council’s (AH&MRC) Human Research Ethics Committee (HREC). The project received ethics approval from the AH&MRC (HREC Ref. 1536/19) on 27 August 2019. All quotes have been reviewed and approved for publication by each of the participants quoted.

Results

All nine participants with Indigenous mothers spoke about the depth of their relationship with their mothers and the centrality of their mother’s support, affirmation, understanding, compassion and advocacy. Stories from participants about their Indigenous mothers were in response to broad questions about what young people believed were the most important things they needed to support and sustain their overall health, wellbeing, and safety. The young person’s relationship with their Indigenous mothers kept coming through as a key theme in the interviews. In terms of their relationship with their mothers, participants identified four themes that they felt were important to their life courses: coming out, mothers as advocates, affirmative mothering and the role of the family and/or community context.

“My mum was the first person I told”: coming out

Although some participants did not believe it was necessary to come out as they felt their mothers already knew and accepted them, other participants discussed the process of coming out and the importance of being visible, authentic and honest about their gender and sexuality diversity with their most significant person, their mother. The interviews highlighted the fact that mothers were almost universally the first person young people told about their gender and/or sexuality and young people’s experiences of coming out to their mothers were positive. For participants with Indigenous mothers, the response was positive, with mothers affirming, supporting and accepting their sexuality and/or gender diversity. Only one participant reported that their mother initially struggled with their gender and sexuality diversity, although they eventually came to love and accept them.

A young Djangadi cis-woman’s story of her mother’s unconditional support and acceptance was a common experience reported by many of the participants:

And then I think my mum was the first person I told, and she knew since I was young. I stood to her in the kitchen, and I said, “Mum, what would you do if one of your kids was gay?” and she’s like, “Why? Are you gay?” and she was like, “I’ve known since you were 13,” and then she just gave me a big cuddle and said, “I’ll always love you just the same as all your other brothers and sisters, so don’t worry about me not loving you as much”.

And sometimes, coming out was unnecessary for participants. A Djangadi cis-man never felt the need to come out to his mum because she knew and accepted his sexuality from an early age:

My mum knew. My mum till this day, if we’re all sitting around having a yarn or a drink, we start talking about new up-comers in the community like, “Oh my God, did you hear that so and so has come out. They’ve actually said that they are actually bi or lesbian or gay,” and then mum was like – she would say, she would say it as a joke, “I’ve actually never been in that position where I can actually say that, because he actually hasn’t come out to me to this day,” and we’ll just laugh about it, and I’m like, “Get over yourself,” because I didn’t – everyone always asks me, “So when did you come out? When did you –?” and I’m like, “I never ever did.” I never felt the need to.

Although their mother initially struggled to understand their identity, a Noongar participant also felt most comfortable coming out to their mum:

Yeah, I think – well my mum would support me by – I guess, she would always say that she loved me no matter what. She wouldn’t care whatever as long as I haven’t hurt someone or whatever. She said, “Even then, I’d still care about you,” and I was like, “Cool,” but that’s just how my mum has always been, which is she’s always been nice. She was the first person I told in my family, for sure, like easily, there wasn’t anyone else I felt comfortable in telling.

Another young Wiradjuri cis-woman spoke about how nervous she was coming out to her family and friends but she knew her mum would react positively as her mother had already been to the Mardi Gras: “She [mum] has been on many floats in Mardi Gras, so I knew she was gonna be fine < laughs>. She was the last person I was worried about.”

The strength of a Kamilaroi cis-man’s relationship with his mother meant that he felt very comfortable coming out to her:

My mum and I have a very personal relationship. She’s more like a friend and a sister to me as more than a mother, if that makes any sense. So, my coming-out process was very, very easy and I’m very blessed to have had that.

“And she’s a really big advocate”: mothers as champions

Mothers also acted as defenders, advocates and activists for their children’s rights within the immediate and extended family as well as within their communities and local schools. They not only spoke out about gender and/or sexuality diversity, but also defended their children against racism and bullying with school bureaucracies.

A Djangadi participant explains how her mother defended her to her Christian stepfather who had difficulty accepting his stepdaughter’s sexuality:

I was really, really depressed and I was self-harming ‘cause I didn’t know – I didn’t have many friends until end of year eight when I was moving back again, I had no friends. So, it was hard time, and I didn’t how to talk to my mum about it and how to talk to my family … I don’t want to be the only one – I think he [stepfather] said something once and mum was like, “The door is there. She’s not your child but you’ve raised her, and you’ve got to be there for her. What can we do? Sorry, but your child has more value over religion, so support her or get out,” and then he hasn’t really said anything since.

A Wiradjuri Kamilaroi cis-woman talked about how her mother became an active community advocate, correcting other community members when they spoke about sexuality and gender diversity, as well as encouraging other family members to join public events such as the Sydney Mardi Gras:

And since then, I’ve had an incredible journey with my mum and she’s now the type of person who’s like, “You can’t say ‘blank word’ because that’s not correct. You need to say this word. My daughter’s gay and she’ll tell you how to do it.” And she’s a really big advocate.

A Wiradjuri mum who was also a well-known community member helped one participant feel protected and supported within the local Aboriginal community:

She [mum] isn’t like a heavyweight [in the community], she’s so nice but I think a lot of people – I don’t know, they are so nice being accepting because they’re like, “Oh, she’s [mother’s name] daughter, like, yeah definitely. I mean a lot of things in my life have been good being her daughter … And then I don’t have to worry about anything. I think, yeah, she’d been a definite protective factor. I think that’s another reason why no one would ever say anything mean ‘cause she would yell at them < laughs > if they would ever be mean to me about dating [partner’s name].

Another young Wiradjuri mum spoke about how a different kind of advocacy, where she is teaching her son to be proud about his gay father and lesbian mother in order to help shape community attitudes into the future:

I’m very open with my child about gay people all the time. I have been. He knows that mummy likes girls and we’ve talked through his daddy liking boys and all this stuff. Everyone is different. And he’s proud about it… I’m raising my son to understand that that’s normal, you know what I mean? It all starts with the parents and how they raise their kids. If they raise their kids very sheltered like this stuff isn’t normal, that’s where it all starts. That’s where all this indifference starts in the community and not accepting people because they are different. I feel like that I am making a difference with my child, maybe a small part, but it’s gonna have big effects one day, teaching him what’s normal, the new normal. We’re all gay. We’re all different.

“She cared about my happiness more than anything”: affirmative mothering

Indigenous mothers not only accepted and defended their LGBTIQSB + children, they went to great lengths to openly support and affirm their children. Mothers were also seen as counselors and best friends, supporting their children through difficult times with positive, pro-active behaviors and actions that helped make their children feel loved, at ease and comfortable with their sexuality.

A Djangadi participant explains how his mother just accepted his sexuality from an early age, encouraging him to openly express his attraction to other men:

I think it was like some footy players, but they were all coming home coming back from the beach, and me and mum were just sitting there and then mum is checking them out and then I’m checking them out and I’m like, “Can I even say that in front of mum right now? Can I actually say, ‘Oh my God, they’re fucking hot?’” I just go there, so I just did it but then before I even said that mum turned around and she goes, “Oh my God, [participants name], look at them, man, look, look, look!” … She actually just told me for the first time ever mum’s actually said, “You need to check these guys out,” not, “You need to check these women out, look at them. Look at these guys.” So, we’re sitting at the back of the bus just checking out all these hot Surfers Paradise men. It was like weights are [sic] taken off my shoulders.

Another gay participant spoke about how his mother affirmed his sexuality from a very early age:

She didn’t stop me from playing with Bratz dolls. She didn’t stop me from doing the dance groups, drama. She didn’t stop me with playing netball because she was a netballer. She didn’t stop me taking me to girly concerts or watching girly shows. She just let me be me. I think that’s what helped me the most. She’s taught me about I can do anything and I clearly nailed it.

Participants also spoke about how their relationship with their mothers was special, and how they were not just mothers but also friends and sisters. Participants highlighted the depth of their mothers’ support and acceptance of their gender and/or sexuality diversity as explained by a young Kamilaroi cis-woman:

My mum and I have a very personal relationship. She’s more like a friend and a sister to me as more than a mother, if that makes any sense. So, my coming-out process was very, very easy and I’m very blessed to have had that. My mum always made sure that I was happy, and she cared about my happiness more than anything. If I wanted to dance around in the lounge and sing Hanna Montana or High School Musical, she was more than supportive of that and she knew I was different from a young age and it wasn’t that she wanted to shelter me or anything, she just knew that bad was out there, so wanted to protect my innocence, I guess.

Another young Wiradjuri cis-woman spoke about the amount of support she received from her mother for her same sex relationship and how excited her mother is for her to start own family with her girlfriend:

Yeah, we live together. We’ve got our own little family now. We’re looking at having our own baby and my mum knows that. I haven’t told so much my extended family ‘cause I don’t want the pressure of how much pressure [sic] it’s gonna be to fall pregnant, obviously, being in a gay relationship. But, you know, like signing the contracts and stuff, my mum knew about that. She was so supportive. She’s so excited.

Discussion

To the best of our knowledge, this study provides seminal information on Indigenous LGBTIQSB + children and their relationship with their Indigenous mothers in Australia. Participants’ mothers provided foundational care and support for their children that enabled them to better navigate the impacts of settler heteronormativity and racism. The article offers a strong counter argument to settler colonial deficit discourses and policies that frame Indigenous mothers as inept and neglectful of their children (Parkes, 2019; Parkes & Zufferey, 2019). Participants’ mothers proved to be their LGBTIQSB + children’s best friends, confidantes and advocates. Indigenous mothers were essential to their LGBTIQSB + children’s wellbeing within both family and community contexts.

The paper also offers completely new information to supplement the current literature on Indigenous LGBTIQ + children’s experiences of, and ongoing importance of, family and community for their life projects and wellbeing. Our research speaks to other scholars’ research (see Aaron & Rostosky, 2019; Ishii, 2017; Tamagawa, 2018) in that it demonstrates the pivotal role of mothers in the eyes of their LGBTIQ + children and the significant role that mothers play in coming out, advocating and affirming their children’s gender and sexuality diversity. Our research found that, despite initially feeling nervous about the potential consequences, Indigenous LGBTIQSB + young participants coming out to their mothers were met with support and loving acceptance. Indigenous mothers extended their support, stepping up to act as advocates and mediators with other family members and within Indigenous communities. In a similar vein to other research (see Aaron & Rostosky, 2019; Allen et al., 2021; Ishii, 2018 for example), Indigenous LGBTIQSB + children reported that LGBTIQ+-phobia was not tolerated within family or community, mothers demanding that partners and other family members accepted and supported their children. Indigenous mothers also confronted LGBTIQSB + phobic family and community members, correcting their use of pronouns and promoting the use of positive terms for their LGBTIQSB + children. Participants’ mothers also provided safe environments in which their children could express their sexuality, backing this up with affirmative action that enabled participants to express their sexuality diversity. Rather than Indigenous mothers’ responses being inadequate and demonstrating an inability to provide loving care for their LGBTIQSB + children, mothers were reported to be overwhelmingly caring and positive in their values, attitudes and actions.

The authors acknowledge the limitations of this study, in particular, that this is a small sample of nine Indigenous LGBTIQSB + people living mostly in one city in one state within Australia. The findings are in no way representative of the complexity and diversity of Indigenous LGBTIQSB + peoples living in New South Wales, let alone Australia. The participant narratives included in this article, for example, only included one non-binary participant, with the rest identifying as cis-gendered. Although a good beginning, no broad extrapolation is possible regarding the experiences of LGBTIQSB + people in NSW. The research also only interviewed the children and not their mothers. As a result, we are unable to evaluate what the mothers’ perspectives and lived experiences of caring for and raising their LGBTIQSB + children.

Although these are limitations, they also provide some clear directions for future research. There is a need for more research led or at least co-designed by Indigenous LGBTIQSB + people about their lived experiences and relationships with family, community and culture. This would provide the family and community sector in Australia with invaluable information about service delivery and how to build on inherent strengths within Indigenous families and communities. Across the board, there also needs to be more known about the experiences of trans, non-binary and gender fluid people, including Sistergirls and Brotherboys. Finally, in order to comprehend the complexities of Indigenous parenting and community approaches to LGBTIQSB + people, Indigenous mothers’ experiences need to be understood. Based on what we have found to date, this kind of information has the potential to destabilize current settler colonial discourses and policies about Indigenous mothering, pinpointing their strengths and capabilities as well as the significant positive impact that Indigenous mothers have as key players in Indigenous family, community and culture in Australia.

Declaration of interest statement

The authors declare no conflict of interest.

Acknowledgments

We acknowledge the Burramattagal People of the Dharug Nation who are the Traditional Owners of the Country upon which we work in Parramatta. The lands were, are and always will be the lands of Indigenous Peoples. We recognise that sovereignty was never ceded. We honor and pay respect to Elders, past and present. We would also like to thank and acknowledge the young Indigenous LGBTIQSB + people whose stories appear in this article. This project would not have been possible without the tireless support and guidance of BlaQ Aboriginal Organisation and the AIDS Council of NSW (ACON).