“Why won’t anyone from the local Aboriginal community respond to us?”
“An Elder used to visit our centre, but they’ve stopped coming. We don’t know why.”
I hear versions of these questions from educators often. Sometimes there is a practical answer: people are busy or carrying responsibilities that your service cannot see. But sometimes the answer is harder to hear. A community member may have decided that the relationship no longer feels respectful, safe or worthwhile.
An invitation to visit a service is also an invitation to enter a workplace we did not choose, meet people we may not know, and share knowledge that has deep meaning to us. If we say yes, we may be bringing stories, relationships and responsibilities with us. We notice how we are spoken to. We notice what happens after we leave.
Perhaps we were welcomed warmly for NAIDOC Week, then heard nothing for the rest of the year. Perhaps we were asked to provide a Welcome to Country or tell a story, but our advice about the everyday program was dismissed. Perhaps photographs were posted without a clear conversation about consent. Perhaps we were expected to explain something deeply personal on the spot or represent every Aboriginal person and perspective.
Sometimes the problem is in the way a service responds when we set a boundary. We say a story is not ours to share. We ask that an activity be changed. We explain that a particular person is not the right contact. We decline an invitation because we have other commitments. If each answer is met with pressure, defensiveness or another request for an explanation, it becomes exhausting to keep showing up.
And sometimes our values simply do not align. A service may say it wants a relationship with Aboriginal community while treating Aboriginal knowledge as an add-on, tolerating racism, or refusing to reflect on its own practice. Community members do not have to keep offering their time and trust in the hope that a service might eventually listen.
I have had to make this decision myself. At one centre, a change in leadership changed the feel of a relationship I had worked hard to build. The understandings we had begun with seemed to disappear, and a sharp email from someone new left me questioning whether we could continue working together respectfully.
At a different centre, my children became unwell and there was a death in my family. I knew that rearranging sessions affected the team, and I did my best to communicate. But I came away feeling as though the inconvenience mattered more than what my family was going through. That stays with you.
Being paid for my work does not mean I am in someone’s pocket. A professional agreement comes with responsibilities on both sides, including clear communication and basic compassion when life happens. I can take my commitments seriously and still expect to be treated with respect.
Experiences like these have made me think carefully about where I can do my best work. I can value what we achieved together and still decide that a particular relationship should end. Stepping away from one team does not erase the meaningful relationships I have built with others.
We have come too far to feel obliged to work with people whose actions do not align with the respect they speak about. Walking away can be a boundary. It can be a way of protecting our energy, our knowledge and the relationships we are accountable to.
That does not mean every unanswered email is a rejection, or that educators should try to guess what a particular person is thinking. It means the question needs to change. Instead of asking, “How do we get them back?” ask, “What was this relationship like from their side?”
Did we communicate clearly when staff or plans changed? Did we treat them with compassion when life interrupted the schedule? Did we ask what they wanted to contribute, or hand them a task? Did we follow their guidance when it challenged our plans? Did we make contact outside the moments when we needed something? When they said no, did we accept it?
If someone has stepped away, you can acknowledge that you may have missed something, offer to listen if they wish to speak, and respect their choice if they do not. Do not make that person responsible for writing your service a cultural improvement plan. The work of examining your practice belongs to the whole team.
Strong community relationships are reciprocal. They leave room for honesty, disagreement and a no. They grow when educators act on what they learn, even when nobody from the community is in the room to watch.
Aboriginal community is not a resource a service can book. We are people with our own priorities and boundaries. If you want us to keep walking alongside you, pay attention to how the relationship feels for us, not only to what your service gains from it.
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