Read the full poem below.
Last week, Bundjalung teen Jarrah Dick received an assessment in her literature class.
"The task was to write an essay with a base text and to flip the context around," she told NITV.
And she did.
The 17-year-old, a student at Palm Beach Currumbin State High on the Gold Coast, wrote a poem about growing up as a young Aboriginal woman in Australia, titled 'Rise Up'.
Jarrah was awarded her school's Indigenous high school student of the year award.
"But still, I rise."
The piece continues to outline experiences Jarrah has had so far throughout her life.
Your 16-year-old self is at work and a customer questions your name, ‘Oh it has native origin, I’m indigenous’ I exclaim. Their face said it all, the frown, the squinted eye, them trying to hide their laughter, while I am about to cry.
Jarrah says it was much easier to write the poem when it came from the bottom of her heart about things she has faced.
"Sharing the poem with others means a lot to me as I want to be able to educate others on not only my experiences but the experiences of others who are just like me," she said.
"My ancestors fought hard to have their say. I am grateful to have been brought up around my culture, where my family has taught me about culture."
'My teacher said he cried'
Already it has had an effect on others.
"My teacher said he cried while marking it, that it was extremely powerful and that Indigenous poets would be very proud. He said that he had never cried at a student's piece of work in his whole career," she told NITV.
She received 24 marks out of 25 for the submission, leaving her family very proud.
"When Jarrah read it to myself & her father I was in tears," her mother Raema Dick told NITV.
"It was so powerful and from the heart. I have read it over and over and each time I had tears.
"I wanted to share this poem far and wide for our mob to see and anyone willing to listen. It’s very special to me & will treasure it forever."
Jarrah and her mum Raema
Yeah, I’m Aboriginal! I state, but a boy on the lunch table giggles. It’s silent, but then he decides to be brave and speak. ‘You’re not Aboriginal, look at yourself, I mean you’re white, can’t you see, you’re so delusional, you are literally about as white as me’.
But still, I rise
The second time –
You’re sitting in math class doing your schoolwork and a girl in the back corner suddenly says loudly, ‘So you’re ‘aboriginal’, are you completely sure?, your skin colour is white, and if you are, stop acting like your ancestors fought a massive war.’
But still, I rise
The eighth time –
Your 16-year-old self is at work and a customer questions your name, ‘Oh it has native origin, I’m indigenous’ I exclaim. Their face said it all, the frown, the squinted eye, them trying to hide their laughter, while I am about to cry.
But still, I rise
If an adult doesn’t understand, is their truly any hope?
How will the future children of this country be educated?
How will younger ones who are just like me be able to cope?
Now sometimes if I’m really lucky I’ll get the, ‘You’re not a real one, what are you whinging for? you’re only part!’
What part then? My hand? My foot? My Arm?
You’re either black or you aren’t
Coffee is still coffee no matter how much milk is in it
You still don’t believe me though, right?
You wanna do a DNA test?
Come suck my blood
Drain the life out of me
My complexion may be white, but that same DNA you’re talking about has got red, black and yellow overpowering all that the doctors can see
Is this what you want me to look like
Is this what you really want to see
Me having to paint my face so you can believe me
Me having to paint me face so you give respect to me
Do you want to see cultural dances?
Do you want to see what I’ve learnt?
Do you want to see me thriving?
Or do you just want to see me hurt?
Why do you have so much hatred?
I’m exhausted
I’m hurting
I’m damaged beyond repair
From your words that has a past rooted in pain
You may shoot me with your speech, but it is a bullet that I will gain
And still, I rise
Is it my confidence that upsets you?
Is that why you try and tear me down?
Because my skin isn’t the colour of ‘dirt’ you say
Darling you can try, but you’ll never take my crown
You can write it on the roof tops
But you will never break me with your corrupt lies
I can see that I’m of pale skin
But just like my adrenaline, I’ll rise
Does my attitude offend you?
Does it really hit to your heart?
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got a whale skeleton museum
Getting dug up in my backyard
‘How do we get to move forward if we dwell on the past?’
Well, that’s just your privilege
‘We didn’t do it to you’
Well, that’s just your privilege
‘Can’t we just ignore the pain that’s been caused’
Well, that just your privilege
The skin colour I was born with, diluted down from generations is just my privilege
Because I see the way my brother gets treated because of his darker skin
The names he gets called, the assumptions and phrases
But we have the same parents, believe it or not, we are fully related
It just blows my mind how a few different genes changes the way we are treated on a day-to-day basis
If an adult doesn’t understand, is their truly any hope?
How will the future children of this country be educated?
How will younger ones who are just like me be able to cope?
Racism is not born, its taught and it’s learned
It’s shown, it’s created, it’s believed in and it’s yearned
It’s read, it’s history, but it’s also the present
It’s the way people live by, indigenous people are a transgression
White supremacy within this country is subtle, but it’s the soil, the grass, the cement, and the red, white and blue flag that flutters outside your house
Now, imagine that you are forced to leave and retire from your own game
Cause your own ‘fans’ simply can’t be tamed from their racism
I mean look at what happened to Adam Goodes
Who’s next to leave their sport huh?
Latrell Mitchell?
Josh Addo-Carr?
Tell me!
And when you’re talking about equality do you really mean it?
And when you are marching for us, and sticking up for us are you doing it for our freedom, or just when it’s convenient?
And the girl in my math class
You can tell she doesn’t understand
Or the older boy from the canteen line
Or the kid from the school’s music band
They don’t understand that their anti-black racism runs in the DNA of this country
They don’t understand the severity of why there is still that standing gumtree
They don’t understand what it’s like to have your babies ripped away from them
Or what it’s like to be told to stop getting so many benefits out of the government
They don’t understand the prejudice, the culture, or the pain
The fact that I am told to stop using up the school’s indigenous help and resources for my own personal gain
They don’t comprehend that my ancestors were locked in small jails, starved and beaten
Or to know what it was like to fight for a say or just to have basic freedom
They don’t understand that the land they are standing on has history
Or the fact that Australian colonisation was not just a temporary injury
Although it may seem it, these kids are not to blame for their ‘hatred’, it is not too hard to see that they are simply just uneducated.
Still, I rise
