We Are Worthy: The Ongoing Cost of Having to Prove It

There’s a particular exhaustion that comes from being both visible and invisible at the same time.

As a First Nations person, I’ve spent my life navigating spaces where I am expected to explain who I am, why I belong, and what makes me “qualified” to be there. Sometimes that expectation is spoken, but more often it’s quiet, a raised eyebrow, an awkward silence, or the unspoken pressure to lead with a story that proves I’ve earned my seat.

It doesn’t matter how far I’ve come. I still find myself doing it.

And I see it happening to others, to our mob in community, in government, in workplaces, in education. People who are deeply capable, deeply committed, and still somehow feeling like they must shrink themselves or over-explain to be accepted.

This is not a personal failing. It is a cultural trauma response.

The Legacy of Being Measured

We have inherited a system that was built on measuring us. Blood quantum. Certificates. Cultural performance. Proximity to pain. These ideas weren’t ours they are a product of colonisation. But they’ve shaped how we’re seen, and too often, how we see ourselves.

The workplace is no different. First Peoples are often asked explicitly or implicitly to lead with their pain. To perform their identity in ways that feel legible to others. To constantly navigate questions like:

“Are you really Aboriginal?”

“How Aboriginal are you?”

“What’s your story?”.

These aren’t innocent questions. They’re demands for justification. And when those demands come from people with institutional power, they reinforce a message that who we are is not enough, unless we can prove it.

Sometimes it’s worse in our community organisations. It’s a different from of justification. Am I culturally worthy? Am I black enough? I do a lot for the community, and I should justify this every time I meet with mob. I’ve lost count of times I have heard someone explain their skin colour, justifying the outcomes of the half caste act, even though we are a result of the very thing the act was designed to do.. take our colour away. Lesson our language and our connection, divide and conquer us. But we are not conquered peoples, we are real and here. And, we are all the same colour in the dark, which happens to be black, just in case you are wondering 😊.  This justification needs to stop, we do not need to search for significance, we are significant. We are the first peoples.

Living in Response Mode

Over time, we start responding before we’re even asked. We front-foot our trauma. We name our community credentials. We prepare ourselves for doubt, critique, or curiosity that crosses into entitlement.

It becomes a habit: Tell them what they need to hear, before they question you. Be palatable, but still “authentic.” Don’t be too angry. Don’t be too quiet. Don’t be too proud.

This is not safety.

This is survival.

Letting Go of the Performance

I’ve done it. I still catch myself doing it. And it breaks my heart to watch others doing the same, especially our young people.

There is a kind of grief that comes with realising how much of yourself you’ve shaped to fit into systems that were never built for you. But there is also a kind of power in saying: I no longer need to perform my pain to be seen.

We are not less because we are light-skinned. (Or dark-skinned)

We are not more because we disclose our trauma.

We are not required to earn our identity in front of people who haven’t earned our trust.

We Are Already Enough

What I want for myself, for my children, for our communities — is to live in a world where First Peoples don’t need to justify our existence. Where worth isn’t conditional. Where leadership isn’t linked to disclosure.

I want to see a workplace culture that doesn’t reward silence or oversharing, but one that fosters dignity, safety, and sovereignty. I want to live in communities that don’t fracture around who’s “more Aboriginal,” but unite around what we can build together.

And I want every First Nations person who reads this to know:

You are worthy.

You don’t need to carry it all.

You don’t need to perform to be believed.

You are enough.

I’m still learning this myself.

But I believe it with everything I have.

— Shawn Andrews