English assessment
Buzzing with anticipation, of the thought of what was to come, I rush up the concrete stairs of the Sydney morning herald head office in Pyrmont NSW, Oblivious to the scorching 40-degree heat. A secret, a secret so well kept not even I knew to the late 80s, was about to be exposed, expose to the whole world. Benjamin highs one of the journalist at the station greeted me with a wide smile and instructed me to make my way inside. I had been petrified of the revelation of this 20-year-old mystery, that I wasn’t able to sleep last night revising the sample questions like a prayer for something I desperately needed. Ben had led me into a room with a man sitting in the centre, he was dressed well, as if he was going to be on TV, he had a clip board with few sticky notes and pink pen. I glimpsed at the clip board as I strolled past, which surprisingly only a few questions. As I sat down Rachel hazel one of the lead editors came in, and with her sweet English accent asked “are you comfortable Linda”, whilst simultaneously informing me of the ethics of the interview. “Do you know what this interview is about” I asked the man sitting across me without a name of yet. My heart palpitating waiting for his response. “no, you will have to tell me” he replied with and smirk. As he began to asking the questions a million thoughts flooded over me, from being honoured to be chosen, to doubt and anxiety, was I truly ready to let this secret out, or was I humiliating my mum from her grave. But it’s too late now the story is expected to be out by Sunday. I sat their anxious about how everyone will see my mom, I didn’t want her to be portrayed as hating blacks, after all she was trying to give herself and her future children the best life possible.
The atmostosphere recognisable to that on the 27 February 19? Almost 20 years ago Standing in the Governor Marie Bashir Reading Room in state library trying to discover who I really was. Trying to figure out the past my mum had been hiding. The man who’s name I soon discover was David, pulls out his slender clip board and says in a sympathetic voice, “your mothers from what I heard had a big secret” I nod my head in agreement. My family inclosing me in a circle of support. After the interview Rachel approached us as we stood in the lobby discussing the interview, she said “your story is going to be on the cover page” I smiled, it’s going to some most Australians don’t know who they really are, or were they come from”. I nodded once again in agreement, thinking the number of people that are mixed race but don’t even know it.
When I was young my mother would sit me down in our three-bedroom apartment in Alexandria Sydney, and recall the stories of her growing up in Cumberland plains before she moved to be with my father. It was the only time I was allowed to sit on mum’s lap, she said her knees hurt from always carrying her brothers, when she was younger. We sat close to the glass window over-looking...
