Every January 26, I wake up with a heavy heart. My day starts with introspection and sadness. I stay in bed a little longer, thinking about the history of this country and how it connects to me, my family, and my identity.
It was around January 26 in 1788 that Captain Arthur Phillip planted a British flag on Aboriginal land, Warrane (Sydney Cove), symbolically taking possession of the country, marking the beginning of invasion and colonisation. This place was said to be terra nullius (nobody’s land), disregarding Aboriginal people then—and, in many ways, this disregard continues today. Year after year, on this day, I feel disregarded, invisible, and ignored.
Most years, I attend the Brisbane Invasion Day march in solidarity with my community. This year, however, I’ve broken my ankle and can’t walk the distance. I’m proud that my partner and my little boy are there, and that my 5 year old will have early memories of being part of the rally.
I didn’t grow up protesting; the assimilation policy was highly effective on my family. We lost most of our Aboriginal languages, customs, and culture while integrating into white society. This saddens me deeply, but I find strength in knowing the broader history and context, understanding how hard it must have been for my ancestors to survive. I empathise with the sacrifices they made to provide the best opportunities for their family. I am a product of that resilience.
I have always known I am Aboriginal, always been incredibly proud of being Aboriginal and have always felt a deep sense of belonging with my community. I am continually learning and strengthening my connections. My family and cultural identity is what drives me to work hard and do my best in all facets of life.
I have huge appreciation for all the staunch blak activists leading the march, speaking, performing and having courageous conversations today. It’s not in my nature to be bold or outspoken, but I deeply admire those who can. I am a quiet achiever, hoping my work speaks volumes for our mob. My heart is with all Aboriginal people feeling the weight of generational trauma today.
It is so powerful to see a sea of flags and banners, and, as our friends at Clothing the Gaps would say, people wearing their values. You can say a lot through fashion and that’s what I love about Magpie Goose, it provides an opportunity to show support through practical and conscious wardrobe choices. There is strength in numbers. The invisible becomes visible and can no longer be ignored.
Allies can assist in making us visible every day by wearing brands like Magpie Goose and the growing number of amazing First Nations fashion. We are a blak-owned business creating vibrant, unapologetic clothing that celebrates our stories. When you wear Magpie Goose, you showcase our culture. You help make us visible - in workplaces, schools, shopping centres, and streets across this country. It’s a bold statement of solidarity and a reminder that our culture is strong, alive, and here to stay.
By wearing Indigenous fashion, you not only show support but also spark conversations. These moments are critical for changing narratives, challenging ignorance, and building a future where Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are truly seen, respected, and celebrated.
So, whether you’re marching or unable to join, know that there are everyday actions that can amplify the respect for Aboriginal stories, culture and community. Together, mob and allies can walk in solidarity—not just on January 26, but every single day.
Amanda Hayman, Magpie Goose, 2025.