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This interview was part of Victorian Aboriginal Legal Service’s Invasion Day webinar in January this year. The Q&A spoke to an incredible panel of First Nations people, each with their own unique experiences of the criminal legal system. The interviews amplify that burning spirit that lives within all of us. Marie Mitchell, a proud Yorta Yorta woman and the leader of VALS Statewide Community Justice Programs, spoke to the panel about their experiences, learnings, strengths and challenges. This month, we start with Stacey Edwards.
My name is Stacey Edwards, I grew up on Wemba Wemba Country and I identify as a Bun Wurrung, Boon Wurrung and Taungarung woman,
and I’ve spent seven years in the prison system.
My grandfather was part of the Stolen Generation and his nine siblings were also. He thought that just because he lived in Melbourne that he was Wurundjeri.
When I worked at the Koorie Heritage Trust, about 15 years ago, I learned and identified the language groups that I do today and my signature style is diamond patterns that were traditionally used on our shields and possum skins.
I spent seven years in the prison system all together. I've been out of prison for 18 months now on parole and I still have nine months to go on parole. It took a lot for me to adjust with such a long remand period. I was on remand for two and a half years. It was hard accessing mental health care and medication, and it was hard adjusting – obviously realising that prison officers are not police officers and just the general routine of prison life.
I was really fortunate when it came to my art. We had a Koorie art class at the local TAFE and so we have a space dedicated to allow me to explore different styles and mediums.
VALS was there, obviously. It was the first organisation that I reconnected with when I left prison. And they were fantastic, transferring all my prison health records to their system and making sure that all my health issues were followed up and cared for.
The Torch program was obviously amazing. I did my community service here at The Torch which led to paid work, employment and now I’m permanent part-time at The Torch now.
But I didn't have housing. That was probably the biggest challenge for women in prison as you can't get parole pending housing and you can't get housing pending parole.
I was really fortunate that with the money I saved up from selling my artwork through The Torch, I was able to put a deposit on a house when I left prison.
There has to be a better understanding around family violence and how complex it is and, especially, they need to understand culturally as well how that affects us and how we integrate back into the community.
There's a lot of shame around family violence obviously and I didn't speak a lot about it for a long time because it was part of my court case so I didn't get help for it, but I'm getting professional help now which is fantastic. I get to see a psychiatrist every couple of weeks to talk about family violence and that's been really beneficial.
I think the biggest barrier with parole is how many restrictions have been put on me and the hardest thing to adjust to has probably been having a GPS monitor on my ankle.
Some advice I gave women after I had spent a few years in the system was basically “yes, sir, no, sir, three bags full, sir”. Just do what you’re told and get on with it, it's the only way I was able to adjust the system.
Pick my battles, what was worth walking away from and what was worth standing my ground with. And use the Aboriginal Wellbeing Officers (AWOs) to your advantage 'cause they're a great support. I couldn't have done it without the AWOs at DPFC. Just keep your head down and work hard. Keep busy. Do all the programs and wake up every day another day gone.
Art. When I did art and I painted, it felt like I wasn't in prison. So I would paint for hours and hours and hours on end if I could and just to escape prison life, block it all out. Art was my best ally in prison.
My name is Stacey Edwards, I grew up on Wemba Wemba Country and I identify as a Bun Wurrung, Boon Wurrung and Taungarung woman,
and I’ve spent seven years in the prison system.
My grandfather was part of the Stolen Generation and his nine siblings were also. He thought that just because he lived in Melbourne that he was Wurundjeri.
When I worked at the Koorie Heritage Trust, about 15 years ago, I learned and identified the language groups that I do today and my signature style is diamond patterns that were traditionally used on our shields and possum skins.
I spent seven years in the prison system all together. I've been out of prison for 18 months now on parole and I still have nine months to go on parole. It took a lot for me to adjust with such a long remand period. I was on remand for two and a half years. It was hard accessing mental health care and medication, and it was hard adjusting – obviously realising that prison officers are not police officers and just the general routine of prison life.
I was really fortunate when it came to my art. We had a Koorie art class at the local TAFE and so we have a space dedicated to allow me to explore different styles and mediums.
VALS was there, obviously. It was the first organisation that I reconnected with when I left prison. And they were fantastic, transferring all my prison health records to their system and making sure that all my health issues were followed up and cared for.
The Torch program was obviously amazing. I did my community service here at The Torch which led to paid work, employment and now I’m permanent part-time at The Torch now.
But I didn't have housing. That was probably the biggest challenge for women in prison as you can't get parole pending housing and you can't get housing pending parole.
I was really fortunate that with the money I saved up from selling my artwork through The Torch, I was able to put a deposit on a house when I left prison.
There has to be a better understanding around family violence and how complex it is and, especially, they need to understand culturally as well how that affects us and how we integrate back into the community.
There's a lot of shame around family violence obviously and I didn't speak a lot about it for a long time because it was part of my court case so I didn't get help for it, but I'm getting professional help now which is fantastic. I get to see a psychiatrist every couple of weeks to talk about family violence and that's been really beneficial.
I think the biggest barrier with parole is how many restrictions have been put on me and the hardest thing to adjust to has probably been having a GPS monitor on my ankle.
Some advice I gave women after I had spent a few years in the system was basically “yes, sir, no, sir, three bags full, sir”. Just do what you’re told and get on with it, it's the only way I was able to adjust the system.
Pick my battles, what was worth walking away from and what was worth standing my ground with. And use the Aboriginal Wellbeing Officers (AWOs) to your advantage 'cause they're a great support. I couldn't have done it without the AWOs at DPFC. Just keep your head down and work hard. Keep busy. Do all the programs and wake up every day another day gone.
Art. When I did art and I painted, it felt like I wasn't in prison. So I would paint for hours and hours and hours on end if I could and just to escape prison life, block it all out. Art was my best ally in prison.
Including a piece about kids dancing and going walkabout and Chippa's interpretation of Country.
This is my interpretation of Country. The greens and browns take me back to the quiet and secluded areas I've worked on and stayed on whilst camping and living off Country.
A wide-ranging report commissioned by the federal government has called for “urgent and proactive” system-level reforms to improve the standard of health care provided to First Nations people in prison.
This goanna represents me and the dots represent the people in my life. The dots on the goanna are the loved ones in my life and the people who have had an impact and made a difference in my life.
Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
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