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2 years ago
What social causes does The Last Daughter explore? First Nations People, Racial Equity, Democracy & Society
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Why should I see The Last Daughter? The cruelty of the Stolen Generations - and the long-lasting trauma it caused - will make you burn with injustice. Using emotional interviews and touching recreations, The Last Daughter will give you a still deeper understanding of this critical part of Indigenous history. It’s an accessible and truly moving documentary.
For most of us, it’s impossible to imagine being taken away from our homes at 3 or 4 years old. Taken from our parents, our brothers and sisters… the only family we’ve ever known. Taken with barely more than a few clothes and a single soft toy for comfort.
But that’s just what happened to Wiradjuri woman Brenda Matthews in 1973. At a train station in Campbelltown NSW, she was handed over to her hopeful new white foster parents, Mac and Connie. Unbelievably, there was no paperwork, and there were no questions.
Now known as the Stolen Generation, what happened to Brenda was standard procedure for seven decades in Australia, as Indigenous children were forcibly removed from their families by government authorities and placed into institutions or, like in Brenda’s case, adopted by non-Indigenous families.
The policy aimed to assimilate Indigenous children into Anglo-Australian society, cruelly eradicating their cultural identity and language. Why? The underlying belief was that Indigenous parents were inferior and their kids would grow up living better lives with white parents like Mac and Connie.
Her new family were given a story: Brenda was being removed from a poor home life, with an alcoholic father and a mother that couldn’t support her. Mac and Connie were happy to become Brenda’s saviours, and she quickly became inseparable from her white foster sister.
The next five years of Brenda’s life were a happy family upbringing, filled with backyard games and joy. Until, one day, a knock at the door. Suddenly, Brenda’s birth parents were deemed fit to raise her. Once again, she was being taken from her home - and returned to a family of whom she had no memories.
“It felt like I was acting White. I didn’t know what it meant to be Aboriginal.”
That’s the origin for what would become a perpetual questioning for Brenda Matthews. Removed from her culture, then removed again from her first memories of connection and love. Torn between two worlds. Now, as an adult, Brenda only has fragmented memories of a little white sister. If you don’t belong to either one of your families - where do you belong?
The Last Daughter straddles two timeframes and two families. Interviews in the now with Brenda, her husband, and her parents are overlaid with soft-focus recreations, shot like memories that plant us back in the 70s.
Unusually for a documentary, we aren’t offered an explanation into who made the decisions in Brenda’s “welfare” case. There are no government talking heads; there’s no effort to field a “right of reply”. Because this isn’t an episode of Four Corners. It’s a deeply personal story of an unconscionable action that had lifelong ramifications.
Soon we learn that this action was built on fabricated details. A patchwork of half-truths and deliberate falsehoods. Brenda’s mother was completely capable of raising her, along with her six siblings. They weren’t neglected, or living in squalor. And far from being an alcoholic, Brenda’s father was the local pastor - he never touched a drop.
“Knowing the truth, I wanted to clear my parents’ names. They never neglected us.”
Brenda’s foster parents were told in 1973 that they were a lifeline for Brenda - but there wasn’t a shred of truth to it. They were lies told simply to justify a government policy that was, by that time, clearly out of touch with the Australian public. Years later, Mac and Connie were shocked to learn the real story. “Suddenly, we were the villains.”
The Last Daughter allows us to follow Brenda as she uncovers more of that truth, and tries to reconcile the two halves of her family. Brenda always had questions about her past - now she starts looking for answers. That begins with tracking down her white foster parents, who she hasn’t seen for over four decades. What ever happened to her loving white foster sister, who she created those snatches of happy memories with?
We also see the conflict that Brenda experiences. By wanting to find and reconnect with her white family, it reopens painful wounds for her biological Mum. “They took you away from me,” Nana Brenda explains. “Why would you want to go back to them?” These are lasting scars.
There’s a further twist to Brenda’s story: the Child Welfare Board was disbanded in 1969, four years before Brenda was somehow approved to be taken. It means that Brenda was rejected by the government’s Stolen Generation compensation scheme, because officially, she isn’t part of the Stolen Generation at all. It’s another slap in the face that echoes The Last Daughter’s theme of shattered identity.
Admirably though, Brenda has no interest in blame. Institutionalised racism doesn’t have one face, so where would she point her finger? It’s clear that Brenda is much more invested in looking to the future. She is gifting us her deeply personal story - giving the nation an opportunity for collective healing and true reconciliation. The Last Daughter knows that the door to Australia’s history must be opened gently if we're going to have any chance at collectively confronting it.
The Stolen Generations was a dark chapter in Australian history, unfolding from the late 1800s to “officially ending” in 1969. We’ve produced some memorable feature films in this country about the Stolen Generations in the last few decades, like musical-comedy The Sapphires and the award-winning Rabbit Proof Fence. Brenda’s real story proves just as watchable.
As the name implies, Stolen Generations children were simply taken, often by force, and with zero consideration for their emotional well-being. Families and communities were devastated as children were taken away. This single policy caused trauma, loss, and disconnection that had a shuddering impact for generations.
It wasn't until February 2008 that then-Prime Minister Kevin Rudd offered a formal apology to Indigenous peoples for the pain caused by the policy that led to the Stolen Generations. It was a welcome step in a long journey to address injustice, promote healing, and respect the rights and dignity of Indigenous peoples. Australia is now looking to take another step, with a referendum on the Voice set for later this year.
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Brenda’s story is a heart-wrenching one. Whether you’re White or Black, or a parent or not, you can’t help but be affected as Brenda, or her blood Mum, or her white foster parents recount their memories and their eyes brim with tears, 50 years on. To imagine your daughter being led away from home, and not being told where she was being taken? Or to raise a child as your own for five years, and then be suddenly forced to return her? Either case is unfathomable.
As the story unfolds we’re drawn in by this vivid, clear emotion, and the sensitive (and gorgeously shot) recreations work well to carry us back to the exact moments that Brenda and her family describe. It feels as though we’re there - and by feeling it, we’re all the more astounded that the Stolen Generations were ever allowed to take place.
But please, don’t let the sadness in The Last Daughter keep you from the theatre: there’s a joyful resolution to Brenda’s story of reconnection that makes this a truly uplifting viewing experience.
“We all hurt. We can all be healed, if we choose to go on a journey to find healing.”
Brenda points out that her ancestors would pass down stories through the generations. The Last Daughter is her way to continue that time-honoured tradition. By sharing her personal pain with us, Brenda hopes to bring about a national change in heart. The doco’s Executive Producer Kyle Slabb echoes that wish, describing Brenda’s story as a microcosm of what’s been happening in Australia for a long time.
“Brenda’s story is such a powerful story for us as a nation,” Kyle says. “We don’t want everything to be a conflict between Black and White. What happens when we’re together? Let’s consider our relationship to Country, together. Let’s reconsider things together. Let’s come to terms with the duality of Australia’s identity. I think Brenda’s story embodies that.”