Sarah Witty (Melbourne, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Hansard source

In a place like Melbourne, it can be easy to point to diversity and feel the job is done. We see diversity in our streets, in our schools and in the community that I represent and am proud of. But, when we listen closely, we hear something else. We hear that for many people the experience of this country is not the same and that, even in places that look inclusive, people still carry moments where they are treated differently, where they are questioned and where they are made to feel they are outside something they should belong to. If we are serious about eliminating racial discrimination, we have to start by listening to the people who have experienced it—not explaining it away, not comparing it, but hearing it for what it is.

The International Day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination exists for a reason. It comes from a moment in 1960, in Sharpeville, South Africa, where people gathered to peacefully protest apartheid laws and were met with violence. Lives were lost and the world was forced to confront what happens when racial injustice is allowed to go unchecked. That moment does not belong to one country, but to all, because while Australia's story is different, it is not separate from the same question of fairness, of equality and of who is made to feel like they belong.

The story of this country begins with the oldest, continuous civilisation on earth. For tens of thousands of years, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people have cared for this land, built cultures of extraordinary depth and passed knowledge from generation to generation. That history is not just in the distance; it is part of the present. It reminds us that questions of fairness and Justice in this country did not begin recently. They have been part of our story for a long time, and they are still part of our responsibility today.

If we want to understand what facing these questions look like in practice, we can look to my electorate of Melbourne, because this is where it is tested every day—not in theory, not in policy, but in real life. I see it when I walk through Chinatown, the largest, continuous Chinese settlement in the Western world where generations have built community, businesses and a sense of belonging in the heart of our city. I see it in Richmond and in Abbotsford, where the Vietnamese community has built an enduring place, shaping the streets, the culture and the identity of the suburb. I see it in the Somali communities across inner Melbourne, where families are building lives, raising children and starting to shape what our city will become next.

As I spend time with these communities, I also hear something deeper: discrimination has not disappeared. It's not always loud. It's not always called out. But it is still there, in comments that are brushed off, in assumptions that go unchallenged, in moments that people carry, even when they do not speak about them. That silence does not mean it is not there; it means that people have learnt to carry it. If we do not hear these stories or do not listen to the people living them every day, we risk building a picture of Australia that is only true for some people. But across Melbourne, people are not waiting for things to be perfect. We are building community anyway.

The strength of this amazing city is in the places where people come together, in places like Youlden Parkville Cricket Club, where people from different backgrounds play side by side and build something shared over time; in places like Queen Victoria Market, where culture, food, language and tradition are where diversity is part of everyday life; and, in schools like Abbotsford Primary School, where bilingual education is not treated as something different but as something core to who we can be.

A division having been called in the House of Representatives—

Sitting suspended from 11:28 to 11:40

This is what cohesion looks like: not something declared but something built. It only holds if we keep choosing it.

Even in a city like Melbourne, it can slip. It slips in the moment someone laughs off a comment that should have been called out, when a name gets shortened because it feels easier than correcting it and when someone walks into a room and quietly works out how much of themselves is safe to show. It shows up in small decisions: a pause before speaking, a choice to stay quiet, a decision to not put your hand up this time—not because people lack ability but because they are reading the space around them. These moments build. They follow people into classrooms, into workplaces and into the choices they make about what they go for and what they step back from. Over time, they shape who participates, who leads and who feels like they belong.

If we are serious about the kind of community we say we are, we cannot just point to diversity and assume that is enough. There is a difference between celebrating diversity and defending it. Celebration is easy; defending it is much harder. It means acting when something is not right, it means listening when people tell us that something is not working and it means being prepared to change what we are doing when the evidence is there. This is not about getting it right once; it's about continuing to learn and continuing to respond. This is where government matters, because government has a responsibility to not just to reflect the country but respond to it.

This government looks more like modern Australia than ever before. It reflects the diversity of the people it represents, and that matters. When people are in the room, their experiences are in the room too, and that shapes what gets heard. This government is taking action. Through the National Anti-Racism Framework, we are setting a clear direction for how institutions respond to racism. Through investment in multicultural community organisations, we are backing the people who are already doing the work on the ground. Through stronger protections in the workplace and public life, we are making it clear that discrimination is not acceptable. Through education and community programs, we are helping build understanding earlier so that the next generation expects something better.

But we also know this: policy alone does not solve this. It only works if we stay connected to the people who are experiencing it. I have had conversations with people in my life that have stayed with me. One was with my sister and her husband. Her husband is Maori and has darker skin. They were both asked a simple question: do you think Australia is racist? They answered the question at the same time—

A division having been called in the House of Representatives—

Sitting suspended from 11:43 to 11:55

My sister and her husband were asked: do you think Australia is a racist country? They answered at the same time. My sister, who looks like me, said no. Her husband said yes. They both meant it, because they were speaking from lived experience. That moment has stayed with me because it shows something we have to be willing to face—that people can live in the same place, build the same life and still experience this country in very different ways. If we are serious about eliminating racial discrimination, we have to be willing to hold the truth—not one version of the story but all of them.

Melbourne shows us what is possible. It's a city where people do not just live side by side; they live together. It's a city built on contribution, on community and on people showing up for each other. But it also reminds us of something else—that this work is never finished. In the end, this comes down to something simple. When the moment comes, when something is said, when something is done, when something is not right, we all face the same choice: to stand up or to stand by. I know what my choice is. For the people I represent, for the community that raised me and for an Australia where no-one should be made to feel like they do not belong, I will stand up so they do not stand alone.

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