They say a picture is worth a thousand words. But not all pictures are created equal. Most you will look at, giggle or say “ew” or “pretty” or “look at the chest on that stud/broad” and move on. But some have power and meaning which explain an entire concept or change your view of the world; a book or a series of books blasting straight through your retina and into your brain in a flash. We here at Crasstalk love our kitty pictures and meme .gifs, but here’s your chance to show us the images that most matter to you. We look forward to seeing them in the comments.
After the jump, a short tale about the powerful image above and why it especially matters to me.
Nicky Winmar was a footballer, and a good one. By the early 1990s, it was hardly unusual to see Indigenous Australians (Aborigines) playing Australian football at the highest level. Trailblazers like the great Graham “Polly” Farmer in the 60s had paved the way. The Krakouer brothers, Jim and Phil, were the stars of my club, North Melbourne, in the 80s. Still, for all the multiculturalism of Australian society, racism was never far away. Football, like society in general, was the preserve of those of European descent. Everyone else was expected to just sit quietly and accept that, in exchange for being tolerated.
In 1993, I was 12 years old, a child of middle-class privilege. My parents weren’t rich but I didn’t exactly live in the slums. Everyone in my class at school was white or Asian (hardly unusual in Australia even today; neither the African nor the Indigenous communities are very large, in percentage terms). Oh, I’d been raised to have empathy towards others, to be against things like war and torture, to be sympathetic to the poor. As a child of a family of Holocaust survivors, I had some knowledge of the inhumanity some people could show to their fellow human beings. But I wasn’t really aware of racism. The colour of someone’s skin was irrelevant to me, which I knew was the right way to think, and I assumed most people would think like that.
Collingwood fans have always had a reputation as “ferals” and “rednecks.” A trip to their home ground in the early 90s would see opposing players and fans abused heavily. But for Indigenous players, the abuse was different. You wouldn’t be called an asshole (the most polite insult used). You would be called a black asshole (again, to put it politely). And it was tolerated.
Until one day in 1993, Nicky Winmar lifted up his jumper in full view of the Collingwood cheer squad and pointed to his skin, as if to say “I’m black. Deal with it” (subtly giving them the finger in the process). The image to the right, captured by photographer Wayne Ludbey, confronted everyone in the newspapers and on television the next day (it’s now in the National Gallery of Australia). Winmar’s actions sparked a huge debate on racism, which not only forced the hand of an embarrassed football community to declare that racist taunts were not acceptable and would be punished, but brought the same decision to society at large. The undercurrent of racism would no longer be quietly allowed to continue unmolested.
And for 12 year old me, it made me a bit more aware of what the world was REALLY like, and that in fact there were an awful lot of stupid and terrible and ignorant people out there who didn’t think the same way I did, but also that the actions of one person standing up for what’s right could make all the difference. Even if he DID play for St. Kilda.
