What I’ve learned about how for-purpose, community-controlled entities can drive change

With her background in legal aid and current roles as a non-executive director on several boards in the First Nations healthcare sector, Yorta Yorta woman Sandra Bailey GAICD reflects on her journey and governance lessons.

I am a Yorta Yorta woman and grew up on Country in Shepparton, Victoria. I completed secondary education in a technical college that only went to year 11. When seeking to enrol at the only high school in town, the principal told us tech school kids we “didn’t have the aptitude” to even try. Bendigo Tech then set up a small campus in Shepparton to accommodate year 12 tech students. During that year, a teacher suggested I should study law at Melbourne University. Company law was part of the curriculum. The university environment was alienating and I found it hard to settle into the city. I rang home most days, usually reverse-charge.

I was the first Aboriginal student to graduate from the Melbourne University Law School and my family and community were very proud.

I did my articles of clerkship with Slater and Gordon, learning about the Workers’ Compensation Tribunal and common law, including once instructing in the Federal Court. I had only one Aboriginal client and was always glad when that person had an appointment. It was a memorable day when then barrister Mick Dodson AM moved my admission to practice in the Supreme Court of Victoria. I worked as a solicitor with the Victorian Aboriginal Legal Service, appearing mostly in local magistrate’s and children’s courts in country towns.

There was no hiding the fact that Aboriginal people were overrepresented in the criminal justice system. Whatever the outcome on that court day, it would most likely have a negative impact on their lives in some way, even for cases of what I’d call a “trivial” nature — and especially when clients pleaded guilty. I learned the relationship between race, disadvantage, poverty and justice.

Sense of history

My mother, a Yorta Yorta woman, was born and raised on the Cummeragunja Aboriginal Reserve. Cummeragunja has a long history and in 1939, the community walked off to protest living conditions there. Some people stayed put and some returned over time to the only home they knew. I grew up learning about this history.

Like the other children there, Mum was taught to grade 2 level in the Cummeragunja school.

At the age of 14, they were all sent to work as domestics or hands on farms and stations.

There was no access to health services, the nearest hospital was in Echuca — if you could get there by horse and cart, and could be admitted to the hospital. Hospitals were known to have segregated wards for Aboriginal patients. My grandmother, aunties and ancestors looked after people in the traditional way if they were sick, but there would be few remedies for imported diseases, which had decimated the Aboriginal populations over time. The tiny, unmarked graves in the cemetery bore witness to the sad reality.

In 1983, only a few families remained on Cummeragunja and fears arose among the community that the government might be planning to close and sell the land. A residents’ committee was formed, which was later incorporated under the Aboriginal Councils and Associations Act 1976. Projects began to happen, including a building and renovation program, and importantly, salaries were paid, creating employment instead of the “working for the dole” payments. The access road was sealed, allowing the school bus to pick the kids up on rainy days. Water quality was also addressed, although not entirely, due to water retention upstream for farming and recreation. An Elders’ hostel was set up as well as a health service. I call this my first directorship. I was later nominated to represent the region on the executive of the newly formed Aboriginal Health Resources Committee.

In NSW, on 9 March 1984, the title deeds for Cummeragunja passed to the Yorta Yorta people. In Victoria, a claim was prepared by the Yorta Yorta Tribal Council for the return of the Barmah Forest to its traditional owners. Yorta Yorta country spans the Dhungulla (Murray River).

I learned a lot at our meetings — it was exciting to be on that council with many Elders, who were custodians of knowledge and politically involved in the struggle for recognition of rights, land rights, sovereignty and self-determination.

Indigenous rights and justice

I was also a director of the Victorian Aboriginal Legal Service board, and the Aborigines Advancement League, which was established by early leaders such as Cummeragunja Elder Uncle William Cooper (1861–1941) and other activists for land rights and justice. This leadership inspired me. I learned how governance of a for-purpose entity, controlled by its community, could be a vehicle for change.

When the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody was underway, I was asked to head up the Victorian Issues Unit.

It was tasked with seeking the views of Aboriginal communities, government departments and organisations about the underlying issues contributing to the disproportionate representation of Aboriginal people in the criminal justice system, the high incarceration rates and deaths in custody.

After a $40m Royal Commission delivered 339 recommendations to address the appalling situation, it is unacceptable that Aboriginal people continue to die in custody. It reminds me of young people nervously waiting outside the courthouse where a decision was soon to be made that would affect their future life outcomes — statistically likely to be the same outcomes that have led to this moment for them, through generations.