on โ11-03-2014 10:44 PM
I was just watching Hannah Gadsbys (brilliant!) show on the ABC on Australian Art and they brought up some interesting ideas about indigenous culture. It was particularly interesting given the debate on Q&A last night about Bolts "white aborigines" tirade.
So how many generations can pass before you shed your culture?
I am a first generation Italian and my kids are second generation. But we all call ourselves Italian if asked what culture we are. I imagine my grand and great grand kids will also refer to their Italian culture. Not sure beyond that.
My husband embraces his dads Canadian culture and his mothers Englishness. Yet his mothers ancestors came out from England in the early 1900s. Can he still really claim that his culture is English?
How would you relate your culture if asked what your background is?
on โ12-03-2014 11:08 AM
March , this is an interesting article from the1930's Titled The Aboriginal of Australia More Intelligent than supposed
http://trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/29883929
It's the 'supposing' which is the stupid thing don't you think ?
โ12-03-2014 11:31 AM - edited โ12-03-2014 11:32 AM
on โ12-03-2014 12:22 PM
an article from the 1930's is hardly relevant in 2014
on โ12-03-2014 12:29 PM
it is in relation to one poster who still resides there.
โ12-03-2014 12:30 PM - edited โ12-03-2014 12:32 PM
on โ12-03-2014 12:38 PM
of course you do
on โ12-03-2014 12:39 PM
i am hungry
on โ12-03-2014 12:40 PM
me too, im eating pizza
on โ12-03-2014 12:42 PM
no worries Chuk , I agree with Creative spirits
on โ12-03-2014 12:47 PM
I think it all depends on which culture you relate to most. I have mostly English, Scottish and Welsh ancestory but if you go back to 1066, there is also Dutch and French. That's the known ancestory. One branch of the family is relatively unknown but there is a likelihood of aboriginality going by what is known. I am at least 5 0r 6th generation Australian. I grew up in a multi-cultural area so was exposed to many different cultures from a young age. I have fond memories of sitting on the floor around a low table laden with Lebanese food, Greek Easter walking around the block with a lit candle, the first pizza that I ever tasted was homemade by an Italian woman, German brunch ....
I feel no affiliation with old blighty but my grandmother certainly did. Even though, the house was small, she kept a parlour that no one was allowed to enter but looking through the doorway was permissable. It was filled with nothing but the best ; the best furniture; the best china; the best doileys; the best of everything. All of this was just in case the Queen dropped by for a cup of tea.
This was in a workingclass suburb.