Sienna Seychell

I was born in Australia with Italian and Maltese heritage with my grandparents having travelled from Southern Europe with ease. Both sets being migrants who weren’t told to turn away the boats.

However, when they came to work, they were left doing the jobs the white Australians at the time didn’t want to do. My nonna worked in a factory as a seamstress. She was spat on because she was a ‘wog’.

Yes, she experienced racism. I thought we had moved on. I thought that we had reached a point where I wouldn’t experience racism as a white Australian until last night.

I was at the register serving customers, 10 minutes before my shift ended, energy depleted. Two women came up to me demanding to be served. They went on a rant to each other about how they commanded to “be served by a human.”

They were rude and obnoxious. I didn’t break a smile. I was polite and respectful. I was exhausted. Under one the women’s breath voiced, “these fucking Mediterranean’s they don’t smile or even talk to you.”

A sentence I thought I’d never hear. A sentence that some Australians wouldn’t bat an eye about because that is normal for them.