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tasmanian_bibliophile's review
4.0
‘I am the cherry picker’s daughter.’
Kerry Reed-Gilbert (24 October 1956 – 13 July 2019) was a Wiradjuri poet, elder, author and educator. She was a champion of up-and-coming Indigenous writers and an Aboriginal rights activist. She died the day after she’d provided the final corrections and amendments to the manuscript of ‘The Cherry Picker’s Daughter’.
‘The Cherry Picker’s Daughter’ is Kerry Reed-Gilbert’s memoir of childhood. Of growing up Aboriginal on the fringes of towns in regional New South Wales. Of fear. Of prejudice. Of disadvantage.
‘Everything we do is about avoiding the attention of the white people and, ultimately, the welfare, at all costs. It’s not safe to ask white people for anything.’
Her father’s sister, Aunty Joyce Hutchings, raised her and her brother Kevin after her father was imprisoned for murdering her mother. Aunty Joyce Hutchings, whom Kerry called Mummy, sounds like an exceptional woman. Looking after her own children as well as others. Working hard to keep them all fed and clothed. It is Aunty Joyce Hutchings who is the cherry picker.
‘Picking can be really hard work and we have to work harder than the white people, too. They get more money for a pound of cherries than we do. We only get ten cents a pound while they get twenty cents.’
Racism, persecution and poverty are all part of this story. I find it difficult to read: Kerry Reed-Gilbert, dead at 62. Born in the same year as me, but in vastly different circumstances. I read of how the family has to camp in various places when the river level rises, and they can’t get to their home. And then that home is lost.
‘I wonder why life has to be so bad to us that it wants to cause us all this misery. Our house burns down, my father’s locked in a bad place and I don’t know why.’
I read about the racism experienced by Kerry Reed-Gilbert and her family, the double standards applied, the constant fear of ‘the welfare’ coming and taking children away. I read about exceptional women who do their best to keep families together, and of the later (and different) struggles as families fracture.
Kerry Reed-Gilbert was a teacher and advocate. She was also the co-founder and inaugural chairperson of the First Nations Australian Writers Network (FNAWN). Her memoir is important: both a reminder to all of us of the continuing struggles faced by so many Indigenous peoples; and a tribute to an exceptional woman.
‘This book is to say thank you to my mother, Mummy, who took us home.’
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
Kerry Reed-Gilbert (24 October 1956 – 13 July 2019) was a Wiradjuri poet, elder, author and educator. She was a champion of up-and-coming Indigenous writers and an Aboriginal rights activist. She died the day after she’d provided the final corrections and amendments to the manuscript of ‘The Cherry Picker’s Daughter’.
‘The Cherry Picker’s Daughter’ is Kerry Reed-Gilbert’s memoir of childhood. Of growing up Aboriginal on the fringes of towns in regional New South Wales. Of fear. Of prejudice. Of disadvantage.
‘Everything we do is about avoiding the attention of the white people and, ultimately, the welfare, at all costs. It’s not safe to ask white people for anything.’
Her father’s sister, Aunty Joyce Hutchings, raised her and her brother Kevin after her father was imprisoned for murdering her mother. Aunty Joyce Hutchings, whom Kerry called Mummy, sounds like an exceptional woman. Looking after her own children as well as others. Working hard to keep them all fed and clothed. It is Aunty Joyce Hutchings who is the cherry picker.
‘Picking can be really hard work and we have to work harder than the white people, too. They get more money for a pound of cherries than we do. We only get ten cents a pound while they get twenty cents.’
Racism, persecution and poverty are all part of this story. I find it difficult to read: Kerry Reed-Gilbert, dead at 62. Born in the same year as me, but in vastly different circumstances. I read of how the family has to camp in various places when the river level rises, and they can’t get to their home. And then that home is lost.
‘I wonder why life has to be so bad to us that it wants to cause us all this misery. Our house burns down, my father’s locked in a bad place and I don’t know why.’
I read about the racism experienced by Kerry Reed-Gilbert and her family, the double standards applied, the constant fear of ‘the welfare’ coming and taking children away. I read about exceptional women who do their best to keep families together, and of the later (and different) struggles as families fracture.
Kerry Reed-Gilbert was a teacher and advocate. She was also the co-founder and inaugural chairperson of the First Nations Australian Writers Network (FNAWN). Her memoir is important: both a reminder to all of us of the continuing struggles faced by so many Indigenous peoples; and a tribute to an exceptional woman.
‘This book is to say thank you to my mother, Mummy, who took us home.’
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
thisgirl_writes's review
4.0
Kerry's story is one of struggle, but ultimately defined by love - the unbreakable bond between her and Mummy, her mother in everything but blood. A revealing memoir and a call to action. I certainly won't be consuming anything created by Kevin Gilbert, out of respect for Kerry and her family.
kimswhims's review
4.0
An important story in a 1950's Indigenous child's voice and quite a tribute to the determined family orientated woman who raised her.
The fruit picking and family focus was so similar to my own Mother's upbringing of the time. My mother, grew up in regional Victoria in a single parent family, with little money. They lived with wall-papered hessian walls (luxury), no running water, nor electricity and an outdoor dunny too.
Although, Kerry as a ward of the State in the times of Aboriginal protectionism was much more at risk of being removed from her family at the time.
Racism and Inter-generational trauma had their own far reaching impacts. But so does family strength and determination, they did good. Something for future generations to be proud of.
Really glad I picked this up as part of wanting to read books written by Canberra authors and as part of wanting to read more works by Indigenous writers.
The fruit picking and family focus was so similar to my own Mother's upbringing of the time. My mother, grew up in regional Victoria in a single parent family, with little money. They lived with wall-papered hessian walls (luxury), no running water, nor electricity and an outdoor dunny too.
Although, Kerry as a ward of the State in the times of Aboriginal protectionism was much more at risk of being removed from her family at the time.
Racism and Inter-generational trauma had their own far reaching impacts. But so does family strength and determination, they did good. Something for future generations to be proud of.
Really glad I picked this up as part of wanting to read books written by Canberra authors and as part of wanting to read more works by Indigenous writers.
sharolyn's review
4.0
At heart this book is a tribute to 'mummy' (and all the unsung women like her), an incredible Aboriginal woman who worked tirelessly to make a good life for not only her 3 biological children but the 5 others she took in and raised as her own. Joyce is a pillar for her people and an example to us all of strength and dignity in the midst of adversity. The racism both subtle and overt which the family endured is sickening and embarrassing for white Australians.
The Australian landscape was another quiet hero of the story.
I found the postscript which detailed complicated family dynamics and fighting in more recent years a sad note to end on. Despite obvious hardship, so much of the story was about overcoming. To finish it with ongoing relationship tensions was unfortunate and even a bit confusing as I was left with more questions that answers.
I enjoyed Kerrie's tone throughout the main body of the memoir and felt honoured to hear her story in her 'child's voice'. 'Mummy's' life and legacy of love will stay with me.
The Australian landscape was another quiet hero of the story.
I found the postscript which detailed complicated family dynamics and fighting in more recent years a sad note to end on. Despite obvious hardship, so much of the story was about overcoming. To finish it with ongoing relationship tensions was unfortunate and even a bit confusing as I was left with more questions that answers.
I enjoyed Kerrie's tone throughout the main body of the memoir and felt honoured to hear her story in her 'child's voice'. 'Mummy's' life and legacy of love will stay with me.
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