How not to internalise the rhetoric around immigration in Australia

Know that this is not a new issue.

Talk about immigration needing to be lower is well ingrained in Australian politics. It is always there at a low level and every few years it ramps up into a nationwide conversation, where voices that add absolutely nothing to the conversation are amplified and handed a mic that should never have been switched on.

The newly federated Australia literally began its national immigration policy with the Immigration Restriction Act 1901, one of the cornerstones of the White Australia policy. It was one of the first laws passed by the Commonwealth and its aim was to limit non-white immigration and maintain Australia as a predominantly white, British nation.

Racial restriction of migration isn't some strange new intrusion into Australian political history.

It is part of Australian political history.

And then there is the biggest irony of this whole conversation.

So called Australia was colonised by British people who arrived on land already occupied by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.

This wasn't empty land waiting to be discovered.

First Nations peoples already had their own countries, laws, cultures, languages, relationships to Country and systems of knowledge long before the British arrived.

Colonisation brought massacres, dispossession, forced child removals and assimilation policies. Also known as GENOCIDE.

And somehow, after all of that, people living on Aboriginal land have decided they get to point at the latest people to arrive and say:

You don't belong here.

The irony is staggering.

Unless you are Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander, you either migrated to this continent yourself or someone in your family line did.

Some came recently.

Some came generations ago.

Some arrived voluntarily.

Some were transported here.

Some arrived as part of the British colonisation of the land.

But being further removed from your family's arrival does not magically transform you into the original owner of the place.

So before accepting the idea that one group of Australians gets to stand at the door deciding which other people are sufficiently Australian, it is worth remembering whose stolen land everybody is standing on.

And pay attention to the language that gets used when these conversations flare up.

One of the giveaways that something deserves questioning is the use of definitive language:

They are the problem.

They don't integrate.

They're changing Australia.

There are too many of them.

Always. Never. All. Nothing.

Whole groups of incredibly different people are spoken about as though there is one migrant experience, one migrant behaviour and one migrant impact — and as though everything they bring is negative.

Where is the room for anything else?

Where are the people who contribute enormously but also struggle?

Where are the people who love living here but miss home desperately?

Where are the people who have integrated into some parts of Australian life and retained other parts of their own culture?

Where are the complicated human beings?

This language is very easy to internalise.

Suddenly, you start applying the same binary thinking to yourself.

You are either a good migrant or a bad migrant.

Grateful or ungrateful.

Contributing or a burden.

Integrated or refusing to integrate.

There is no room for anything in between.

There is no room for being a human being who brings some things, needs some things, gets some things right, gets some things wrong, loves parts of Australia, dislikes other parts and has absolutely no desire to prove their worth every morning before breakfast.

You don't have to accept somebody else's incredibly narrow story about migrants and then squeeze yourself inside it.

Understand that the conversation solves nothing on its own.

Migration gets offered as though it is the whole answer to problems that have multiple causes.

Housing.

Jobs.

Infrastructure.

Cost of living.

Suddenly there is one wonderfully simple explanation for enormously complicated problems:

Too many migrants.

Ask yourself:

Who benefits from migration being offered as though it were the whole answer to problems that have multiple causes?

And if the answer doesn't include you as a migrant, then it isn't on you to answer for it.

You don't need to become an economist every time someone talks about immigration.

You don't need to know the vacancy rate.

You don't need to explain housing policy.

You don't need a PowerPoint presentation about your tax contribution.

You literally responded to an invitation Australia itself extended.

Australia created the visa programs.

Australia decided who qualified.

Australia assessed the applications.

Australia collected the fees.

Australia decided how many visas would be granted.

Governments made decisions about housing, infrastructure and planning alongside those migration decisions.

You did not personally design Australia's migration program and then forget to build enough houses.

Yet somehow migrants can end up feeling as though they should apologise for the consequences.

No.

You don't need to apologise for milk you didn't spill.

When the political conversation makes it sound as though migrants simply appeared one morning and announced, Surprise! We live here now, remember how ridiculous that is.

You came through a system Australia created.

Don't internalise responsibility for government decisions you did not make.

Don't feel the need to justify your existence.

Doing this plays straight into a narrative some people are very comfortable with: the story of the good migrant who did everything the right way.

So you start explaining yourself.

I work.

I pay taxes.

I came here legally.

I've never taken anything from the government.

I have qualifications.

I contribute.

My children were born here.

Stop auditioning.

You don't owe anyone an explanation of why you deserve to exist in the same country as them.

And the problem with trying to convince somebody of your worth is that the goalposts can always move.

You tell them you work. They'll find something else.

You tell them you pay taxes. They'll find something else.

You tell them you've been here twenty years. They'll find something else.

If someone has already decided you are the problem, your beautifully presented evidence folder probably isn't going to change their mind.

More importantly, your value as a human being cannot depend on your economic output.

What happens if you lose your job?

What happens if you get sick?

What happens if you need help?

What happens when you get old?

Do you suddenly become less worthy?

Of course not.

May your new mantra be:

I do not need to justify my existence. Being born proves my worthiness.

Stop saying their names.

I have pledged to never say the redheaded one's name again.

She is getting so much attention out of this and her ego appears to be eating it up.

And all of us, including people who completely disagree with what she says can inadvertently amplify the message every time we share another ridiculous clip accompanied by:

CAN YOU BELIEVE SHE SAID THIS?!

Yes.

At this point, I can.

The more interesting question is:

Why am I helping distribute it?

How much racist content are anti-racist people themselves circulating because they're furious about it?

Attention is currency.

Every repost, argument, quote and outrage reaction gives the conversation another breath.

Sometimes resistance looks like refusing to participate.

Stop saying their names.

Stop sharing every stupid thing they say.

Stop feeding the flames.

Just like a fire dies down when its oxygen is depleted, some conversations deserve to be starved of our attention.

And most importantly, don't let their voices become louder inside your own head than your own.