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The Black Woman of Gippsland uses a colonial legend to highlight present-day injustice
The Black Woman of Gippsland uses a colonial legend to highlight present-day injustice

ABC News

time11-05-2025

  • Entertainment
  • ABC News

The Black Woman of Gippsland uses a colonial legend to highlight present-day injustice

Warning: Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are advised that this article contains references to people who have died It's 1839. Three Gunaikurnai people come across a wet lump on the beach. On closer inspection, it turns out to be a body, with face down in the sand, lips blue. The woman is a survivor of a shipwreck, perhaps the Britannia or the Britomart, both ships that were lost in the Bass Strait that year. This story is told in the opening scene of The Black Woman of Gippsland, a new play written and directed by Yorta Yorta/Gunaikurnai theatre-maker Andrea James (Sunshine Super Girl), presented by Melbourne Theatre Company for YIRRAMBOI festival. The Gunaikurnai people give the woman food, water and a possum-skin cloak, and she follows them when they move camp. Eventually, she becomes "kin": "And Auntie makes her a daughter / And Uncle makes her his wife." According to colonial legend, the woman on the beach is the White Woman of Gippsland, who colonial settlers believed was captured by local Gunaikurnai people in the 1840s. The story transfixed Melbourne at the time but had tragic repercussions for Gunaikurnai people that are still felt today. Though never confirmed, the woman's rumoured existence sparked several rescue expeditions. It resulted in the arrest of a Gunaikurnai lore man known as Bungelene, who died along with his wife after being imprisoned without charge for 18 months. "The capture of this woman was pinned on him, and he died in custody. He was one of our first black deaths in custody in this country," James tells ABC Radio National's The Stage Show. The play's protagonist, Jacinta (Chenoa Deemal), is a researcher completing her PhD, a "blakademic" who James says she modelled on women she admires, including Lou Bennett, a senior lecturer in Indigenous Studies at the University of Melbourne, writer Romaine Moreton and artist Fiona Foley. "I've been influenced by so many incredible Aboriginal women scholars … so I knew I wanted this woman to be uber-smart, tussling it out in academia." Through Jacinta, we learn about the legend of the White Woman of Gippsland, the subject of her thesis. In 1840, Angus McMillan, a Scottish-born pastoralist and early coloniser of Gippsland, stumbled upon a group of Gunaikurnai people near Port Albert. "He said that he saw a woman clad in a cloak who kept looking back at him," James says. The group disappeared, leaving behind them a collection of objects typical of what might wash ashore after a shipwreck: clothing, tools, sewing supplies, blankets, bottles and a Bible. In a letter published in the Sydney Morning Herald in December 1840, McMillan — who went on to perpetrate numerous massacres of Gunaikurnai people, including the Warrigal Creek massacre in 1843, where 150 people were shot — suggested the woman was European and "a captive". McMillan also found the body of a two-year-old baby wrapped in a kangaroo skin bag, who he believed was also of European descent. "They assumed that it was this woman's baby. And so, from that, a legend was generated," James says. As rumours of sightings of the woman continued to circulate, the city's power brokers, meeting at the exclusive Melbourne Club (still in existence today), decided to act. "By then, all sorts of letters to the editor are being written about this poor, fluttering pigeon in a nest of vultures," James says. "They raised money to find this damsel in distress … [and] they sent this expedition party out." The rescue party pinned handkerchiefs embroidered with messages in English and Gaelic to trees, in the hope the woman, who was said to be Scottish or Irish, would find them. "There's a family on Gunaikurnai country who has one of these handkerchiefs in their possession," James says. Although the woman was never found, the story made its way into Gunaikurnai culture, too. References to shipwrecks and a white woman appear in traditional songs, which feature in the play. "There's [also] a story about a legend of a woman with long red hair who lived in a cave," James says. In these stories, the Gunaikurnai people don't hold the woman captive; they help her. It shows how the official historical record can mislead, James says. "[The colonisers are] thinking they're seeing one thing, but actually another thing is happening from our point of view. "It's about reading between the lines." Setting the story in the present day was a deliberate choice. "If it was just a purely historical telling, then people would say, 'That happened in 1840 — we've moved on,'" James says. When Jacinta goes off-grid to throw herself into her thesis, she inadvertently triggers a missing-persons case. Her Auntie Rochelle (Ursula Yovich) has to return to the police station where her sister, Jacinta's mother, died in a cell years earlier. "For her to put in a missing-persons report and to find her missing niece, she has to return to the scene of a crime," James says. James wrote the play against a tragic backdrop: the scourge of Aboriginal deaths in custody, including that of Yorta Yorta woman Tanya Day, who died in a police cell in 2017. At last count, there have been at least 590 Aboriginal deaths in custody since 1991. As James was writing the play, "these deaths in custody just kept happening", she says. "I couldn't help but feel the irony, the juxtaposition between all of the resources that were poured into this white woman that may never have existed, as opposed to the absolute violations that were happening right now to Aboriginal women. Or, as Jacinta puts it, "They spent all this time and money looking for a white woman … But who are the women who are really missing and dying?" The play also explores the tension between Indigenous and Western understandings of history. Jacinta has reached an impasse in her research; she's read her way through the archives, but "it feels like something is missing". She tries to explain the conflict to her PhD supervisor, who doesn't quite get it. The historical record is "contradictory", she tells him. She wants to yarn with her Elders; he wants her to seek approval from the ethics committee to conduct formal interviews. When he tells her the archives should be her primary source, she responds, "How valuable can they be when my people's voices are absent and the language is offensive and racist?" It's a conflict that still plays out today. Several monuments to McMillan remain in Gippsland, despite efforts by the Gunaikurnai community to have them removed or altered to explain his role in frontier conflict. "That's why it's really important to keep telling these stories because only one side of this story has been told for a very, very long time," James says. The Black Woman of Gippsland is at Southbank Theatre The Sumner, as part of YIRRAMBOI festival, from May 5-31, 2025.

The Black Woman of Gippsland review – in the battle to tell Australia's history, who gets to be believed?
The Black Woman of Gippsland review – in the battle to tell Australia's history, who gets to be believed?

The Guardian

time10-05-2025

  • Entertainment
  • The Guardian

The Black Woman of Gippsland review – in the battle to tell Australia's history, who gets to be believed?

Writing history and telling stories aren't analogous acts, even if their disciplines overlap and interact. When the world of academia – with its seeming rigour and professionalism, boosted by citations and peer reviews – confronts a culture with thousands of years of oral tradition but no written word, the tension between the two feels dangerously apposite. This could be the stuff of terrific drama, if only playwright and director Andrea James could wrestle her material into something more coherently dramatic. The conceit of The Black Woman of Gippsland is sturdy and instantly intriguing: Jacinta (Chenoa Deemal) is writing her PhD on the 'white woman of Gippsland', an urban legend about a woman shipwrecked off the coast of Corner Inlet in 1840, who was supposedly taken in by members of the Gunaikurnai mob. Two expeditions sent from Melbourne to 'rescue' her led not to her return (she may never have existed) but to the savage butchering of the Gunaikurnai people. Jacinta's exploration of this myth and its aftermath – her meticulous picking at the threads of story to uncover a wider truth – ruffles some feathers in her family, notably her Aunty Rochelle (Ursula Yovich) and cousin Kyle (Zach Blampied). The myth of the lost white person in the wilderness (often a woman or child) is ubiquitous in Australian colonial history, underpinned by an Anglocentric disquiet about the bush and its original inhabitants. Jacinta knows too well the vein of racism running through the apocryphal story of the white woman of Gippsland; it would spoil the plot to say more, but she lives with the consequences of an unjust legal system every day. And while a grappling with methodology – the university's rejected oral sources key to her theory – hinders her academic ambitions, real damage is happening to her family in the present. All of which should make The Black Woman of Gippsland a crackling, provocative work of decolonisation and resistance. But while the play feels suitably weighted by its ideas, James never finds a way to make compelling drama out of it. Much of the characterisation is flat and simplistic – the gruff cop and the supercilious PhD supervisor – and the actors are often left with little to do. Black deaths in custody and the tragedy of the stolen generation, while nominally relevant, seem shoehorned into an otherwise thin plot, and the tone is often didactic. Some good performances anchor the play: Deemal is terrific as the dogged but circumspect Jacinta, determined to uncover truths she already senses in her body. There is a weariness threaded through her tenacity that speaks powerfully of generational trauma and the burden of ambition. Yovich is strong too as Aunty Rochelle, her head often slowly shaking from side to side with grim purpose. She manages to suggest a ring of protection, harbouring her immediate family. And Blampied has a likable, jocular presence, but he's hampered by an underwritten part. For a play haunted by generational loss and grief, Romanie Harper's set remains frustratingly prosaic. Three richly detailed playing spaces sit unmoored in front of a blue curtain, while Rhian Hinkley's video projections swirl ineffectually above. There is a stunning coup embedded in the design but it emerges far too late; the play needs access to the sacred throughout, to ground and centre the superb ceremonial dances choreographed by Brent Watkins. As it stands, they feel awkwardly superimposed. At one point in The Black Woman of Gippsland, Jacinta protests, 'I'm not a nerd, I'm a blackademic.' It's a flippant line that nevertheless gives us a glimpse of a whole world – of a wave of new academics keen to dismantle a system that denigrates black oral history, even over blatant white lies. James's play is ultimately about a massive clash of values, a battle between opposing worldviews. But she doesn't manage to fold that battle into the drama in a meaningful way; characters have to tell us things that should rightfully emerge from their actions. That gap between languages, that murky, unresolved space we all occupy in a brutally colonised country, refuses to close. The Black Woman of Gippsland is on at the MTC, Sumner Theatre, until 31 May.

A missing woman, an ancient mystery. Finally, a new story emerges
A missing woman, an ancient mystery. Finally, a new story emerges

The Age

time24-04-2025

  • Entertainment
  • The Age

A missing woman, an ancient mystery. Finally, a new story emerges

In the 1840s, so the story goes, a white woman survived a shipwreck off the coast of Victoria and was later spotted living among the local Gunaikurnai. From here, the official record begins to lose its course: was she a captive or had she sought their refuge? What were the blood-stained items left in her wake? Were the rumours of a deceased infant true? Which ship had sunk, and why did search parties keep coming up with nothing? The rumours of the White Woman of Gippsland entered the realm of folklore, but one detail remains constant in every record from the era: they're all written by whitefellas. Playwright and director Andrea James grew up with her mob's version of the tale. 'I first heard about it when I was 10 or 12 through stories, through yarns. Our uncle Phillip was ... our story-keeper, and he had also written a book on it and collaborated with a historian as well. Then when I went to uni, I did a unit on first-contact histories. This story came up again. I was like: 'This one's following me around.'' James' previous play, Sunshine Super Girl, was a celebration of the life of tennis great Evonne Goolagong; her 2022 MTC production won the hearts of audiences. The company felt like the right venue to explore this new corner of history, too. 'Melbourne has a connection to this story that I felt was important for the city to know. I also rather selfishly wanted to write a story that connected me to my grandmother's country, because I grew up on my grandfather's Country, Yorta Yorta. It was a really nice way to walk back onto the Gunaikurnai Country and use this play to connect me further with family who live there.' When James began to investigate the historical record, she found a wealth of material to wade through: newspaper articles, diary entries, reports to the governor and accounts by later historians. Then there were the 'spin-offs': the myth of the white woman inspired locals to pen novellas, while poets went off on their own tangents. 'These random, completely romanticised versions of it,' James says. 'There is a lot of writing and so I dug into those archives. I went and sat in the library and tried to decipher handwriting. I kind of got lost in that for a good year, going, 'what did happen?' It is a bit of a magical mystery, right?' Loading What happened is a question that artists and historians approach differently. The Black Woman of Gippsland isn't a period piece offering an authoritative account of the facts behind the legend. Instead, it follows Jacinta, a contemporary academic trying to piece together the real meaning beneath the wildly divergent legends. James' script unfolds with all the tense urgency of a contemporary thriller: Jacinta is dogged in her pursuit of this historical enigma, but as with many great mysteries, there's a tragedy hidden behind the accepted version of events. The work shifts between historical eras but James was determined that the overarching setting be contemporary. 'At the time of writing, there was a spate of Aboriginal women's deaths in custody ... every six months, there was another death in custody and I just couldn't ignore that. Here I am looking at all this stuff about this search for this white woman and our women were being killed every six months in jail. It was really important for me to draw out these parallel histories.' Chenoa Deemal, who plays Jacinta in the upcoming production, had never heard of this particular myth: 'I'm from Queensland, Cape York,' she says. 'We have our own legends about white women.' Colonial history is rife with stories that echo the Gippsland tale. So many of these founding myths are records, not so much of real events, as the anxieties and desires of those who wrote them. They're riddled not just with factual inconsistencies but also skewed perspectives, unconscious biases and misunderstandings. Deemal understands the obstacles that Jacinta faces when attempting to pinpoint the truth. 'I've been writing about my people as well. You have trouble finding information on your mob and I directly relate to that. There's nothing from a black perspective written from those times. We can go by what the archives say, but what were the people actually feeling? What were they going through? What were their experiences? We don't have those on record.' Jacinta's detective quest is very much a personal one, but she also encounters resistance from the university where she's studying. Only a few scenes focus on this, but they reflect the experience of many black female academics. 'A lot of the things that are in there are actual anecdotes that women have told me about these various kinds of things that they've come up against and had to move through,' says James. 'They're absolutely taken from experience, from women that I've spoken to who've encountered these things in the system.' Deemal relishes the chance to play a character whose professional pursuit of the truth is counterbalanced by her personal investment in its outcome. 'It's a huge emotional journey, but she's trying to stop the emotion ... I find that there's more dramatic tension in that. Having that struggle within your character makes it feel more real and it gives you a momentum throughout the play. I get to actually go through those emotions within the play, and it actually can pass through my body, which is the cathartic thing about the way the script is written.' Earlier this year, James took her team down to the Country on which their play is set. 'It's been amazing, learning the history down here because it's such a different culture,' says Deemal. 'Seeing the possum skin cloaks, the yellow sand as opposed to the white sand at home. The big waves. Back home, the reef stops the big waves from coming in. It meant a lot to actually go on Country and experience that.' During their journey, they were welcomed by Uncle Wayne Thorpe, who James says gave his visitors an essential piece of advice. 'He could tell we were all wigged-out city dwellers, so any chance we got, he'd tell us to touch the Country. Feel the warmth of the land, put your feet in the waves. It was a real gift that he gave to the project.' There's the history that you find in books, after all, but the land is its own form of memory. As James says: 'How can anyone do a play about Country without being on it? Because it's not just the stage, it's our Country. It has to reflect that.'

A missing woman, an ancient mystery. Finally, a new story emerges
A missing woman, an ancient mystery. Finally, a new story emerges

Sydney Morning Herald

time24-04-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Sydney Morning Herald

A missing woman, an ancient mystery. Finally, a new story emerges

In the 1840s, so the story goes, a white woman survived a shipwreck off the coast of Victoria and was later spotted living among the local Gunaikurnai. From here, the official record begins to lose its course: was she a captive or had she sought their refuge? What were the blood-stained items left in her wake? Were the rumours of a deceased infant true? Which ship had sunk, and why did search parties keep coming up with nothing? The rumours of the White Woman of Gippsland entered the realm of folklore, but one detail remains constant in every record from the era: they're all written by whitefellas. Playwright and director Andrea James grew up with her mob's version of the tale. 'I first heard about it when I was 10 or 12 through stories, through yarns. Our uncle Phillip was ... our story-keeper, and he had also written a book on it and collaborated with a historian as well. Then when I went to uni, I did a unit on first-contact histories. This story came up again. I was like: 'This one's following me around.'' James' previous play, Sunshine Super Girl, was a celebration of the life of tennis great Evonne Goolagong; her 2022 MTC production won the hearts of audiences. The company felt like the right venue to explore this new corner of history, too. 'Melbourne has a connection to this story that I felt was important for the city to know. I also rather selfishly wanted to write a story that connected me to my grandmother's country, because I grew up on my grandfather's Country, Yorta Yorta. It was a really nice way to walk back onto the Gunaikurnai Country and use this play to connect me further with family who live there.' When James began to investigate the historical record, she found a wealth of material to wade through: newspaper articles, diary entries, reports to the governor and accounts by later historians. Then there were the 'spin-offs': the myth of the white woman inspired locals to pen novellas, while poets went off on their own tangents. 'These random, completely romanticised versions of it,' James says. 'There is a lot of writing and so I dug into those archives. I went and sat in the library and tried to decipher handwriting. I kind of got lost in that for a good year, going, 'what did happen?' It is a bit of a magical mystery, right?' Loading What happened is a question that artists and historians approach differently. The Black Woman of Gippsland isn't a period piece offering an authoritative account of the facts behind the legend. Instead, it follows Jacinta, a contemporary academic trying to piece together the real meaning beneath the wildly divergent legends. James' script unfolds with all the tense urgency of a contemporary thriller: Jacinta is dogged in her pursuit of this historical enigma, but as with many great mysteries, there's a tragedy hidden behind the accepted version of events. The work shifts between historical eras but James was determined that the overarching setting be contemporary. 'At the time of writing, there was a spate of Aboriginal women's deaths in custody ... every six months, there was another death in custody and I just couldn't ignore that. Here I am looking at all this stuff about this search for this white woman and our women were being killed every six months in jail. It was really important for me to draw out these parallel histories.' Chenoa Deemal, who plays Jacinta in the upcoming production, had never heard of this particular myth: 'I'm from Queensland, Cape York,' she says. 'We have our own legends about white women.' Colonial history is rife with stories that echo the Gippsland tale. So many of these founding myths are records, not so much of real events, as the anxieties and desires of those who wrote them. They're riddled not just with factual inconsistencies but also skewed perspectives, unconscious biases and misunderstandings. Deemal understands the obstacles that Jacinta faces when attempting to pinpoint the truth. 'I've been writing about my people as well. You have trouble finding information on your mob and I directly relate to that. There's nothing from a black perspective written from those times. We can go by what the archives say, but what were the people actually feeling? What were they going through? What were their experiences? We don't have those on record.' Jacinta's detective quest is very much a personal one, but she also encounters resistance from the university where she's studying. Only a few scenes focus on this, but they reflect the experience of many black female academics. 'A lot of the things that are in there are actual anecdotes that women have told me about these various kinds of things that they've come up against and had to move through,' says James. 'They're absolutely taken from experience, from women that I've spoken to who've encountered these things in the system.' Deemal relishes the chance to play a character whose professional pursuit of the truth is counterbalanced by her personal investment in its outcome. 'It's a huge emotional journey, but she's trying to stop the emotion ... I find that there's more dramatic tension in that. Having that struggle within your character makes it feel more real and it gives you a momentum throughout the play. I get to actually go through those emotions within the play, and it actually can pass through my body, which is the cathartic thing about the way the script is written.' Earlier this year, James took her team down to the Country on which their play is set. 'It's been amazing, learning the history down here because it's such a different culture,' says Deemal. 'Seeing the possum skin cloaks, the yellow sand as opposed to the white sand at home. The big waves. Back home, the reef stops the big waves from coming in. It meant a lot to actually go on Country and experience that.' During their journey, they were welcomed by Uncle Wayne Thorpe, who James says gave his visitors an essential piece of advice. 'He could tell we were all wigged-out city dwellers, so any chance we got, he'd tell us to touch the Country. Feel the warmth of the land, put your feet in the waves. It was a real gift that he gave to the project.' There's the history that you find in books, after all, but the land is its own form of memory. As James says: 'How can anyone do a play about Country without being on it? Because it's not just the stage, it's our Country. It has to reflect that.'

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