Because of Her, I Can; A Reflection on Aunty Cheryl's Thesis and How It Influenced My Understanding of the Truth of Our Ancestry

I recently enrolled at university, and one of the questions asked - at various stages of the application and enrollment - was: “Are you of Aboriginal or Torres Straight Islander descent?” I ticked the YES box with a passionate flourish. It’s the truth! I am! However, when the same bureaucratic process asks if I am Aboriginal or Torres Straight Islander, I have to tick the NO box, with a big old weight in my heart. It is complicated. But, thankfully, I have some understanding of this complexity, the emotional and political messiness which comes with living with the consequences of colonial attempts to erase indigenous identity. And I have a better understanding of my personal relationship with this complexity because of the hard work done by my cousin, my Aunty, Murri woman, Cheryl Moodai Robinson.

[All quotes throughout this piece come from Cheryl’s book, based on her 1997 honors thesis in Social Ecology: “Surving Alientation; An Artist’s Journey of Family History and the Effects of Colonisation”]

 Cheryl Robinson, "Branded For Life" series artwork, 1998

Cheryl Robinson, "Branded For Life" series artwork, 1998

“We have a fear of knowing ourselves - a lot of my relatives are afraid to know the truth. They can’t face up to it. This creates a lot of friction about our identity, our heritage, a lot of misunderstanding and isolation. For those who identify it’s worse because the others don’t want to talk to us. This continues the cycle of dispossession and dislocation. It continues to rub at the scars that Mary, my great-great-great Bargie (grandmother), had as a result of what was inflicted upon her. Each generation has inflicted the psychological scars onto the next generation. This is why I am writing.”


Growing up, I was largely disconnected from my father’s troubled family, which I now understand to be as a result of many layers of unresolved inter-generational trauma. A few years ago, when I was about 28, I went searching for more information about Dad’s family, a vague idea about uncovering more information about the occasionally hinted-at Aboriginal ancestry, googling the names of my grandfather, my uncles, following leads found in excerpts of books available online, coming across archived articles and newspaper clippings, and, nestled in an old edition of the Koori Mail, I found Cheryl. For this I will be forever grateful.

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Cheryl is a descendant of my great-grandmother’s sister. She is an artist, a wise woman, a grandmother living in NSW, and she worked tirelessly for decades to reclaim knowledge that was denied her. No other of our ancestors were forced to feel such shame about their identity as those who were Aboriginal, and in a colonial nation built on white supremacy, we both feel that we owe the Black truth to ourselves, to our children, to our grandchildren, the spirits of our ancestors and the broader Australian psyche, especially in the face of assholes who would still see us deny its importance. 

“Our connections with our birthright - our culture - have been decimated: we - my family - live in a cultural void, neither black, nor white. We were a disjointed, un-united, fragmented, culturally neutral family… Our relatives had been hidden from us.”

Coming across Cheryl’s book was a major turning point in my own journey towards understanding - and learning to heal - the pain that came to me through my paternal lineage. I’d like to tell you some of that story. There is not enough room here for the entire story. There is so much more to say, so much I am glossing over in the following paragraphs; the blind obedience to white men, the passing down of hard-learnt lessons about survival in the colonial situation, the colonial situation itself, massacres etc, but that will come later, in later written works, in later visual works. But for now, I will focus on the lasting effects of the “importance” of skin colour, and how language and culture was taken away from my family line. Assimilation. What has happened in the past is relevant to the present.

 My great-great-grandmother, Annie Eugenie Stiff seated in chair, my great-grandmother, Doris, seated on the floor to the right, date unknown

My great-great-grandmother, Annie Eugenie Stiff seated in chair, my great-grandmother, Doris, seated on the floor to the right, date unknown

 Great-great Grandmother Annie, Charleville, QLD, date unknown.

Great-great Grandmother Annie, Charleville, QLD, date unknown.

My great-grandmother, Doris Hagstrom, was Aboriginal. Doris was the granddaughter of Hannah, who was born in 1845 on the banks of the Narran River, in Southern Queensland. Her mother was a “pure-blood” Aboriginal woman known only as “Mary” in the records, and her father was a British man who may or may not have been a convict, from one of the first waves of white people to “explore” the area. First contact kind of shit. Hannah, my great-great-great grandmother, was a “half-caste”. She had children with an English man, and those children would have been considered “half-caste”. One of those children, my great-great-grandmother, Annie, married a Swedish man who fathered Doris (sister to Cheryl’s grandmother), and Doris, even as late as 2010 in this article about my great-uncle Kevin Palmer’s memoirs, was referred to as “half Aboriginal”. Three generations of half-castes.

This leads to my grandfather, Terry, son of “half Aboriginal” Doris (who, according to oral history recorded by Cheryl, may not have actually been aware that she was “half Aboriginal”) and a man of British descent named Grafton. Terry, may he rest in peace, had fair skin, looked a lot like his white father, and he and his siblings had limited access to their large extended Aboriginal family in the Maranoa region of Southern Queensland, especially once they were put into institutionalised care following the death of Doris. He was fair enough to be white passing. From what I understand, the truth of his Aboriginality was shameful to him.

 My paternal great-grandparents, Doris and Grafton, with their first born, also Grafton Jnr, my grandfather's brother, date unknown.

My paternal great-grandparents, Doris and Grafton, with their first born, also Grafton Jnr, my grandfather's brother, date unknown.

”Assimilation meant to my Numbardee (mother) and her brothers that they had to be the same as everyone else. My Numbardee was absorbed into mainstream Australia which effectively exterminated her cultural heritage and her identity became invisible.”

 The Palmer clan. My great grandfather, Grafton, seated. My grandfather, Terry, standing right. Great Uncle Kevin seated bottom right, date unknown.

The Palmer clan. My great grandfather, Grafton, seated. My grandfather, Terry, standing right. Great Uncle Kevin seated bottom right, date unknown.

My grandfather married a lovely white woman who birthed their babies, one of them being my father. They moved away from Queensland, first to the Northern Territory, then to Western Australia, following mining industry work. My father, with his fair skin (very easily tanned), hazel eyes and black hair met my mother - a white skinned, blonde haired, blue eyed daughter of Dutch migrants - in Kalgoorlie, which lead to me being born in Perth in 1987 with lily-white skin, hazel eyes, and a shock of black hair that became blonde by the time I was walking.

 Rum Jungle, Northern Territory. Tahlia Palmer, 2016

Rum Jungle, Northern Territory. Tahlia Palmer, 2016

I knew all about my mother’s Dutch heritage; I spent a lot of time with my Dutch grandparents, ate their stinky, salty food, learnt some of the language from boisterous card games with their Dutch friends, but I was raised with no awareness or appreciation of where my dad’s family came from. In fact, I remember being told there was Spanish in there somewhere, to explain the swarthier features present in Dad’s side (I have since searched through many generations on all sides of Dad’s family and have found no Spanish ancestors). I had all the privileges (and propensity for ignorant bliss) that comes with looking the way that I do in Australia. I remember being around 7, being friends with a Noongar girl from down the road and asking her if she was Indian. I had no idea. I was completely disconnected, because the truth, if it was even known during my childhood, was hidden from me. I didn’t know anything about it until I was a teenager.

”To understand ourselves we must know where we’ve come from, what our culture and identity are within the realms of our society, not the society that was forced upon us by another culture.”

When I was younger, I used to stare at myself in the mirror and feel guilty about having white skin, knowing that I escape the treatment given to my darker skinned extended family, purely because of skin tone and facial features. It always brings a bizarre feeling when I’m told by strangers that I look “exotic” (more common when I dye my hair dark), or when friends have squinted their eyes and say “yeah I think I can see it” when the subject of my ancestry comes up, but still, I escape racism because I am extremely, extremely white passing.

 My brother Troy and I enjoying a Christmas lunch with the Dutch side of our family, Kwinana, 2010

My brother Troy and I enjoying a Christmas lunch with the Dutch side of our family, Kwinana, 2010

 Me at Lesmurdie Falls, 2014

Me at Lesmurdie Falls, 2014

I am absolutely convinced that children like my brother and I were EXACTLY what old Australian governments had in mind when they talked about breeding out the black, those people who used a pseudo-scientific racial hierarchy to justify their positions of power in colonial settlements built on invaded, stolen land. We were classic 90's “Australian” kids, slim and blonde, running around, climbing trees, playing t-ball and kicking the footy on the sports ovals all over the grimy eastern suburbs of Perth, not knowing a thing about the fact that our Aboriginal ancestors were forcibly removed from their lands on the other side of the arid inland and treated like dirt because they were viewed as inferior.

“I may have been born into a Western society and I may not look traditionally aboriginal but my genetic makeup is Aboriginal. It has not been bred out and I believe cannot be bred out. The Colonisers believed that the indigenous skin colour and an indigenous mind would eventually be bred out, and indeed in our family we no longer carry black skin. However, Holland (Rhonda Holland, “Aboriginal Mental Health Through the Eyes of a White Mental Health Worker, Redfern, 1991) believes, “you may be able to erase the black skin, but you cannot erase the psychological make-up.”
‘Recent scientific research in to highly dilute solutions verifies that reducing a substance to a minute quality, such as a single atom, intensifies the need and capacity of that atom to bond with others and to imprint its own energetic qualities on the surrounding shell of different molecules. In 1976 a council of Aboriginal tribal elders proclaimed that as their racial blood becomes increasingly diluted in the engulfing oceans of white blood, the spiritual essence of Aboriginal blood will increase in potency and cause the consciousness of the Aboriginal race to re-emerge.’
- Robert Lawlor, “Voices of the First Day: Awakening in the Aboriginal Dreamtime” 1991  

 Ancestors. Tahlia Palmer, 2016 (acrylic and beading on canvas)

Ancestors. Tahlia Palmer, 2016 (acrylic and beading on canvas)

My own family line did not suffer the fate of many others, in that children of our line were not forcibly removed from their Aboriginal mothers (unless you count the death of my grandfather’s mother and his resulting placement in a Salvation Army Boy’s Home as forcibly removed), and I think this is largely because Hannah, my “half-caste” great-great-great grandmother, signed a piece of paper known as an exemption certificate, which signed away her indigenous identity so that she and her husband could live in town like “regular” people. She spoke five languages, but would only teach one - English - to her children. I learnt this because I decided to continue Cheryl’s research, went to Queensland, hooked up with a genealogist and scoured the state archives. I saw that old document, with the list of white male signatories from the town stating that the couple are cool or whatever, and suddenly so many problems made sense.

That document made me realise that this assimilation process was done for survival. How could Hannah have known that despite raising her children to be members of white society, their skin colour would prevent them from ever being accepted as equal in the colonies, in the towns, in the cities? How could she know that their skin colour would determine what jobs they were allowed to do, and whether or not they even got paid for their labour? Whether or not they were allowed to give birth in a hospital? Whether or not they were buried in marked graves? She signed a piece of paper that she thought would prevent her children from such worries. She could not have known how far the pain of suppressed cultural identity would travel through future generations.


 River Banks. Tahlia Palmer, 2017

River Banks. Tahlia Palmer, 2017

“To commence my own healing and dispel the anger I had regarding the colonisers and their affects and atrocities on my family, my artwork became my solace, my refuge.”

Cheryl went out on to the land of our ancestors, explored the tracks they made post-dispossession, she learnt traditional making practices, and she incorporated them into her art work as a way to make peace with ancestral pain. She explored her spiritual ties with the land and the stories of our ancestors and thus opened up a pathway for me to explore the same. It was through reading her book, and then conversing with her, that I finally felt a sense of permission to do what I do without shame, with the deep knowledge that, yes, I have a right to claim this heritage, and yes, I have the strength to face this. I will one day go to that country too, because she has shown me where to find it.

 Traditional Basket, made from the crown shaft of a pine frond, stitched with kangaroo sinew, the handle is driftwood. Cheryl Robinson, 2014

Traditional Basket, made from the crown shaft of a pine frond, stitched with kangaroo sinew, the handle is driftwood. Cheryl Robinson, 2014


Sometimes it is difficult, more difficult than I can ever express. To sit in front of a canvas I have painted, a painting borne out of a spiritual need to create an image that tells something of the story, their story, my story, my relationship with the Noongar country that I was born and again live on, my relatonship with my ancestors’ country that I have never seen, both Australian and European… it can be an incredibly emotional experience, at times powerfully sad, something that I can all too easily disassociate from. And it is not confined to painting; writing, photography, film work, almost everything I’ve created in the last four or so years has deep ties to this process of exploration and connection, and it is something I usually find hard to talk about, let alone share, even with those closest to me. Sometimes I am overwhelmed to the point of inertia.

 Pete Photographs a Dead Roo, Nannup, WA. Tahlia Palmer, 2016

Pete Photographs a Dead Roo, Nannup, WA. Tahlia Palmer, 2016

 Getting a Roo to the Funeral, Nullagine, WA. Tahlia Palmer, 2016

Getting a Roo to the Funeral, Nullagine, WA. Tahlia Palmer, 2016

 The Horse (Mary Was a "Drover's Boy"). Tahlia Palmer, 2015

The Horse (Mary Was a "Drover's Boy"). Tahlia Palmer, 2015

But as hard as it is, this is my healing, and the emotional and spiritual shift I felt once I started exploring my identity and my relationship with "Australia" in my art was immense, and I am certainly much stronger, and more focused, because of it.

 Convicts. Tahlia Palmer, 2014-17

Convicts. Tahlia Palmer, 2014-17

In the early days of my identity-exploration, back when I was more engaged with political activism, my sometimes-mentor Richard Bell told me that he reckons there’s gotta be at least a million “White” Australians in a similar situation, with their family’s black histories all but erased through denial, through hiding, through ignoring. Imagine if we all claimed our heritage, imagine if we all felt and understood the Black truth of Australian history, and imagine if we and our allies all voted accordingly… I tell my story now not just for me and my family, but for everyone else to learn from.

If you’ve got an inkling that your family is hiding something, go searching. If you know that history is there, fucking claim it. It’s hard, and potentially alienating, but using story-telling to save ourselves and our descendants from the cultural and spiritual void left by racist colonial brutality is something I think is pretty fucking important. Possibly the most important.

“Aboriginal memory preserves the unwritten black history of colonisation, which has been emerging in the public arena in the form of life stories of Aboriginal women. Aboriginal memory is transforming public perceptions of the past in post-invasion Australia.”
Anne Brewster, “Reading Aboriginal Women’s Autobiography”, 1996

Thank you Cheryl, from the bottom of everything that is my entire being. Because of you, I can.


Interview with Papaphilia

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Papaphilia is coming to WA for the first time next month, and we here at Cool Perth Nights are very excited about it. Melbourne based producer, Fjorn Butler, brings to her craft an atmosphere of focused musical experimentation and intellectual exploration; it is a stimulating and inspiring electronic expression with beautifully layered sonic conjurations of fragments of society and culture and experience, with a sort of dystopian sci-fi bent that has no words to it other than the song titles, which in themselves speak worlds about the attitude behind the creations... I jumped at the opportunity to interview Fjorn before her upcoming Perth shows; I knew I could get to some satisfying depths with this human and I am completely taken (and certainly not surprised) by the consideration she gave to these answers. THE MUSIC IS GREAT. HAVE A LISTEN HERE AND HERE.


Firstly, you're about to come to Perth, have you been here before? What do you know about the city? What are you expecting? What have you heard?

I’ve never been to WA! So I have absolutely no idea or expectations for what I am up for, or what Perth is like. I’m excited to meet people who are putting their time and resources into music communities there. I’m seriously interested in how people can manage the balance of trying to survive while trying to maintain a practice that is not just a hobby, but something that is part of making that survival possible and worthwhile. I’m of the impression that in Perth it is probably more difficult to make music/work that is personal or reflects a more marginal representational intention, and to then have that work receive exposure and be appreciated widely. That is, I assume there are more challenges one faces, especially if you want to stay in Perth and also not compromise your politics or quality of your work.

Where does the name “Papaphilia” come from?

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Funnily enough no one has asked me this question. It’s not an easy one to answer to be honest! So traditionally the word is used in Christian religious institutions for a love of the pope, but in a broader sense the word “papa” generally refers to a patriarch, or father, and “philia” is a suffix that indicates a fraternal love for the subject.

I guess I was thinking about my obsession with daddies, specifically Greek daddies because I was going to a Greek social club called House of Hercules to dance with 50+ year old men.

But also I was forced to study Plato, mainly Plato’s allegory of the Cave, repetitively at university – I mean I’ve written around 3 or 4 essays on the bloody story, and of course there are so many interpretations of that allegory that take aim at how the political structure it espouses is tied to a particular societal structure, one that distinctly stratifies the domestic, and all infra-political structures tied to society (including slavery), from civic participation.

Anyway, so amongst all that I was thinking about the figure of the “daddy” in representations of desire, how they are structured and permeate deeply into personal libidinal urges. And I guess mainly I was interested in how this intersects with creative practice – how all these forces and urges and social institutions shape you so so deeply; questioning how foundational this structure is, can it actually be recognized? And if so, how do you challenge foundational structures in personal and interpersonal spaces?

I suppose ultimately it came from a fascination with the longevity of patriarchal societal and political structures and trying to recognize how they fit in my life and how I can make them work for me in a pleasurable way. Especially given that I tend to think of myself as a bit of a daddy lol.

What stuff is going on for you for this season? Current projects? Life movements?

I’m in the middle of trying to record music I’ve been developing and playing live for the last two years. It’s been an intense process so far because I’ve been trying to teach myself production techniques, so that everything sounds exactly how I want it to. You know, I want my kick drums to sound hard and bassy but still have bounce, and I want my hi hats to hit like hairspray! It’s a work in progress when you just don’t have the technical knowledge or the money to get someone to help you out.

Then I have to figure out how to conceptualise it all – there’s sets of narratives that are there in the music for me, inscribed in a way. A lot of the tracks were developed at pretty intense times in my life and are a response to, or reflect me simultaneously working through emotional as well as technical challenges. This I feel needs to be honoured in the end result of the work – but I’m not quite there right now, I’m still dwelling on it.

I also have a split cassette with Lisa Lerkenfeldt called Deep Blue that’s coming out soon, and will hopefully have a full length LP ready in the second half of the year.

Aside from that I’m in the midst of tremendous life shifts so I’m kind of just holding on and trying to move through mass transitions without completely falling apart.

 Poster artwork credit of  Molly Dogson

Poster artwork credit of Molly Dogson

In your interview with IdenticalRecords in Jan this year, you talked about how experimentation with repetition and rhythmic patterns has been your main focus since you first started making music.... what do you think sparked this interest, and what kind of ideas do you channel through this process? 

My work, whether visual or sonic, has always been foundationally about collage. The thing about collage as a technique is that its fairly loose and expansive; it traverses form and style, it can be evident as a motif, or it can be more elusive whilst still present – I mean in my opinion when you create you are pretty much producing a variation on form. There’s always a reference evident, always a dialogue or conversation to be had from an aspect of the work. So I suppose the interest in repetition and patterns draws from a place of acknowledging that creation isn’t necessarily concerned with a production of newness, but about challenging the ways that listening and conversing and visually engaging can take place. And given that a lot of the time when I am grappling with an idea or relaying a message – the message is never formed in the beginning, but develops overtime via the conduits I employ – I suppose the interest thus comes from the relationship between the conduit and the message.

In the same interview, you mentioned some of your musical influences at certain important points (which by the way, introduced me to Ghédalia Tazartès, thank you so much for that)--- can you describe your biggest musical influences, how they've influenced your work, why, and what you're currently listening to?

My music influences range fairly far – I mean Janet Jackson has had a huge influence on my life in terms of sexuality and sensuality in music. Learning flamenco and jazz styles on the guitar in my teens altered how I thought about melody and compositional form beyond pop and rock standard structures. I listened to Robert Ashley’s Automatic Writing a lot when I was making the first tape I ever put out – his stuff was influential in terms of considering how incidental weird sonic elements can actually be music. And psychedelic stuff like J A Seazer’s tracks for theatre and film, psych rock in general.

I’ve always been concerned with making music that would compel people to physically engage and respond my whole life, however I always framed it in terms of shock. Nowadays I want people to feel compelled to dance, or just move. In terms of what I am making right now, Detroit techno, Chicago house and Chicago Footwork have been super influential to how I’ve been integrating beats and drum machine in to the mix. But also Kwaito, Gqom and sghubhu styles, oh and shangaan electro – all that stuff has been absolutely dominating my playlists.

Most things require equipment, what is your favourite equipment? Music, research, garden or not garden, health, well-being, bureaucracy, any kind of equipment, physical or otherwise, what do you like using and what do you use most? Why?

I’m mostly attached to my ’94 Twin Cab Toyota Hilux. She’s been with me for a few years now and she’s developing a pretty big profile in the communities I’m in. She’s moved so many houses, been in a video clip (Various Asses ‘Down, Down’), caught fire and still bounced back, traveled interstate numerous times. She’s fairly versatile and I couldn’t imagine life without her.

What are your thoughts on the most recent federal budget?

Where do I even begin! It’s hard to have a critique of something that is so shrouded in secrecy with regards to the intentions of how it is structured.

And it is hard to critique just one budget – I see this budget as a point of reference in a longer timeline of conservative governments implementing neoliberal ideology and further trying to re-cement colonial forms of governance, especially at the federal level.

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You can try to take a positive outlook on some of the seemingly social-based funding allocations – say the supposed increased spending on mental health services, aged care, education – but there’s a real marked difference between the policy in abstract and the policy in reality. Eligibility to access care and social services is so policed, it’s unreal. The questions of legitimacy to access social service is always up for debate, and many sections of society that aren’t struggling seem to have no idea how extreme living can be on a day to day basis in this place. The deterioration of funding to services has been so extreme since the early 90s to now, that a small increase is really not enough to alleviate the stress from frontline services. And the constant shift in service structures and models has meant no consistency for struggling folk. This budget is light going for a conservative liberal government in many ways – however it’s only possible to view it in such a passive manner if you are aligned with its founding ideology. For one, so called Australia is a colonial occupation. Secondly the colonial form of governance that is very prevalent at the federal level makes possible the rapid implementation of political-economic structures that are hostile to any form of culture or lifestyle that deviates from a white hetero-normative entrepreneurial way of existing. There’s an expectation of citizens to obediently toe the line, whilst the very political ideologies that are supposed to support equal distributions of rights and resources are used against them to justify maldistribution.

We are very much in a place now where poverty is viewed as a consequence of bad economic decision making. So yeah, it’s impossible for me to give an analysis without taking this all in to account.

From what I can gather, the German philosopher Martin Heidegger describes anxiety to be where the free and authentic self first comes in to existence, and is experienced in the face of something indefinite. What are your thoughts on this?

Oh man, I have such a hard time dealing with ever thinking about Heidegger haha. Authenticity is a real weird concept, and although I understand he’s referring to it in terms of praxis and constant shift and renewal, it’s still a concept of subjectification that ultimately followed a linear and future oriented progression, thus it insists humans are one dimensional, not complex or fluid, to me anyway. The fixation on anxiety also infers that it is a generative process that takes a particular path and form – anxiety takes many forms, and yes we can learn from it, but I am not certain that it’s a purely individuated experience that reveals a truth that is so specifically fragmented from other people, society and its social institutions. Nor is enduring long term anxiety, some of which can be debilitating and come from sources of experience that are not always generative – like trauma for one – they are not experiences in life to be overcome, just managed as best one can.

I guess I just take issue with the idea of authenticity being thought of as this isolatable unique and knowable aspect that means humans are entities that should be thought of as containing pure positive individuality, because I also hold that society and social institutions are fundamental shapers of people, and they also shape how we experience anxiety.

Can you please describe your interpretation of cultural awareness, especially in an Australian context?

It’s kind of a joke that cultural awareness is the stage of engaging with difference that the so called Australian social context is at, especially given that non Indigenous folk, occupants of stolen land, have always been culturally diverse. And especially given the diversity of Indigenous peoples and culture! The myth of white purity that dominates the narrative of occupation since the declaration of terra nullius is just that, a myth. I guess what I am trying to say is that, it baffles me that a country that has been occupied by such a huge range of cultures, and that continues to expand this diversity, is still thinking about the reality of how to imagine the existence of so many cultures, how they intermingle and enmesh and what value they hold. It bugs me that people still conceptualise diversity in terms of how cultures and social worlds sit in reference to, and as a deviation from Anglo and English speaking ‘culture’. The way I see it, we exist amongst so much diversity – in terms of how people live culturally, in terms of sexuality and gender, physical and mental abilities and dispositions. So yes we should prioritise constantly developing and maintaining a strong awareness of the diversity that is the reality of social worlds, but awareness is barely the first step.


The Bird | Thursday May 31 w/ Baby Kool, Bahasa Malay, House of BOK | Info

The Moon Cafe | Sunday June 3 w/ Lana Rothnie | Info

Mojo's Bar | Wednesday June 6 w/ Hi. Okay, Sorry, Furchick, Erasers | Info

Images courtesy of Papaphilia (Fjorn Butler) and Poster artwork by Poster artwork credit of Molly Dogson