Three weeks ago, in a small town on the NSW coast, a man and his mate were both stabbed during a brawl.

The man died.
That brutal act sparked a family feud. The small, tight-knit community, sodden with anger and grief, was then faced with the violent fallout. Chaos reigned. Up to 50 people took to the streets, wielding weapons and venting their fury on cars, houses, people. For two days they raged.
The police struggled to contain the riot. They locked down the town.
People hid in their homes, toilets, relatives’ houses, anywhere they could find. Children hid in their schools. It was smaller, but lasted longer than Cronulla.
More than a dozen people were arrested and the police tried to make the town safe. But families living in the area did not feel safe. They decided to go.
They fled to Sydney, more than a hundred of them including about 25 kids, babies, toddlers, teenagers. They fled with nothing. They still didn’t feel safe in the city. So they, with the help of a small
community organisation, fled to Melbourne.
Melbourne wasn’t expecting them. Melbourne had hardly heard of the fatal stabbing, the riots, the lockdown. It was a world away. So, in a haphazard sort of way, these people tried to crowd into the already crowded houses of their relatives or friends while the authorities frantically tried to come up with other options.
And yet, it was barely reported outside the local media and the ABC until Melbourne freaked out, not knowing what to do with these sudden refugees.
What a scandal. Parents with small children fleeing horrific violence still struggling to find a safe place, sitting around outside for hours in grim surrounds while people flounder around trying to work out what to do with them. The sun setting while an entire state cannot work out what to do with 100 desperate people. No process, not even the flawed one that deals with boat people.
Of course, this is just a trite rhetorical device to point out how differently Aboriginal issues are handled.
Because the riot was in a remote community, not a tree-changer paradise up the coast. The refugees of this riot fled to Alice, then Adelaide, and all along no one was quite sure what was going to happen, and these people ended up sitting on unkempt lawn in suburban Elizabeth while the State Government vented its frustration that they hadn’t known these people were going to rock into town.
Then they stopped the media speaking to the people, although it’s not clear whether that was on behalf of the community members themselves or not.
If it had happened elsewhere, somewhere less remote, richer – if it had happened in a place that more Australians could relate to – this would have been the story of the week, maybe bigger than the collapsing house of cards that is the Commonwealth Games. If it had happened to other people, they would have found hotel rooms or spare rooms with en suites or better help, somehow. And they wouldn’t have had a phalanx of condescending officials telling them not to tell their stories.
In Australia, we accept now as a matter of fact that there is this gap. We know about the health gap, the life expectancy gap, but this is different, a reality gap. A different set of rules, of engagement. So everyone is extra polite, extra careful, and probably extra patronising.
The question is whether this is a good thing – whether cultural differences justify the gap, whether highlighting the horrific situations that occur in remote communities is prejudicial, whether the gently-on-eggshells approach is just being sensitive, or whether this is a discrimination that doesn’t help. At all.
It’s a question of whether we are so inured to things being so shit out there that we use an entirely different set of rules to measure how bad they are, allowing us to most conveniently ignore the problem most of the time, until it lands on our doorstep.
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