Reclaiming Our Streets – My Race Against Racism

Another weekend, and once again our streets are filled with angry, masked protestors, some dressed in black, some arms raised in Nazi salutes. This is springtime Melbourne, our Melbourne.

How does it get to this?  What do these people do for a living? They must live amongst us. Do they shop next to us at Bunnings, or queue for a latte on a Sunday morning? Do we barrack for the same football team?  Do their families must know what they are doing, the immense hurt they are causing?

I ask these questions not to moralise, but I can’t help wondering what hurt are they holding onto that turns fear into such fury? Do these masked marchers even know a Jewish person?

As a (Greek Orthodox) leader of a charity with deep roots in the Jewish community I see this hurt each and every day. I feel this hurt deeply for my friends and colleagues. And I struggle to understand how we got here.
This extends of course, to our fellow Victorians from so many different multicultural and faith backgrounds. Australia is no stranger to racism or protest, but this is darker—more organised, much more sinister.

I think of my own father—a Greek migrant who came here with nothing, worked hard and believed in fairness and dignity. He was proud of his new homeland and taught me that strength is found in service, not in supremacy; in unity, not hate.