Blak deaths in custody: Ms Dhu’s case was too close to home, writes Rangi Hirini

The sad reality is, I don’t even remember the day I first heard about the death of Yamatji woman Ms Dhu. You see, I didn’t want to be an Indigenous affairs reporter because the reality is I didn’t know it was possible for me — an Aboriginal woman — to report on Aboriginal affairs. I thought there was a kind of bias that I would have and being biased was definitely not on the list of five core principles of ethical journalism when I went to uni. WATCH OUR ORIGINAL FIVE PART SERIES BLAK DEATHS IN CUSTODY: On top of that, there were no Blak journalists on commercial TV or in the paper. I honestly thought it wasn’t possible to have this career. But when I look back, I think there was a part of me that subconsciously knew that this story about a woman dying in my hometown was not something I wanted to hear about. I was about 20 when Ms Dhu died — there was just a two-year age gap between us. I’ve lived in Broome, Karratha, Perth and Sydney but Port Hedland will always be my hometown. It’s where I grew up, it’s where I learned to walk, where I learned to talk. My family and I used to go out bush and go camping, and my grandmother taught me how to cook damper on the riverbanks of the Turner River. Hedland isn’t Greece but going back there and flying in and seeing the red dirt over Deep Water makes me feel more at home and connected to my roots than anything else. Although I’ve moved, my extended family still there. When Ms Dhu died, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins were there. All that goes through my head anytime I relive Ms Dhu’s case is knowing how easily what happened to her could have happened to my family. My grandmother is a visibly Blak looking woman. Who’s to say the hospital staff wouldn’t have treated her the same as Ms Dhu? My uncle is your stereotypical-looking Aboriginal man. He’s no angel but he’s my uncle and I love him regardless. He has health issues. He’s got a staph infection from PRH after he was in a car accident and he almost had to have his leg amputated. I know hospital staff and police would take just one look at him and think the same things they thought of Ms Dhu: “f...ing junkie.” I — and so many other Indigenous Australians — know this could have happened anywhere in this country. There is obviously no place for racism in the health sector. These are often life or death situations that preconceived notions and prejudices should play no part in — but they do. The eye-rolls from one of the nurses when Ms Dhu winced in pain, to the nurse who failed to write her pain score of 10/10, to the doctor who admitted under cross-examination that her description of Ms Dhu being “verbally aggressive was an exaggeration”. It is not enough to say sorry after a woman has died. It will not comfort the mother who still cries out for her daughter or the patient who is worried they’ll too be judged and not receive adequate care.

Blak deaths in custody: Ms Dhu’s case was too close to home, writes Rangi Hirini

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