Malakoi

103997752
Jun 11
7 min read

Swinburne students enrolled in the Diversity in Australian Literature unit engaged in discussions about current socio-political issues and how writing can express perspectives and ideas gone long unheard. Rhea Van Kopplen begins our series of stories born from those discussions.

Some things are best left unsaid. (Photo: Rhea Von Klappen) — *Some things are best left unsaid.* (Photo: Rhea Von Klappen)

New message received.

Dear R████,

How are you?

It has been a while since we were last in contact.

I am hoping this email is still active. I only just found it again today on an old iPad4. It remains the only contact detail I have for you.

Can we talk? Please call me, email or text. My mobile number is 04████████.

I would really appreciate hearing from you.

Love,

Mum xx

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Dear Mum,

Fuck you. Fuck off.

Love,

Your trans, lesbian, agnostic daughter.

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Dear Mum,

What’s up?

Has been a while, hasn’t it? Nine years? That’s crazy.

How’s your new husband treating you in Canberra? Must be nice, being away from the big city and your two children that you hate.

Wishing you the best,

Your daughter.

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Hey Mum,

How’s it going?

Well, I assume.

Otherwise you would’ve contacted me at any point up until now, huh?

I w

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Hey Mum,

How are you?

It has been a while since we last talked.

You mentioned you found this email on an old iPad. That explains the absence of messages. Just wanted to write back and say I’m sorry.

I’m sorry you had to go looking so hard for any way to contact me. I’m sorry you feel indebted to keep checking in. And I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in nine years.

Long time, isn’t it? Nine years. More than a third of my life I’ve gone without any form of meaningful contact with my birth mother. You can’t even begin to imagine the amount of shit you’ve missed. Dad and M█████ had a baby. B███ moved out a while ago, with his fiancé. And here I sit, living in your studio, writi

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Hey Mum,

It’s been a while. Nine years, if I recall correctly. I remember because that’s when Moana came out. You were down from the country for a couple of days, and we went to go and see it. Just the two of us. Together.

I remember how enthralled you were by the movie. It was a lot of fun. You always loved that kind of spiritual imagery. Especially Te Fiti—goddess of life, earth mother. You probably saw yourself in her, giving birth to me and B███—creating life, giving to the world. I can’t imagine how much it hurt to give us both away.

Life has been good. A lot happens in nine years. Dad’s been taking care of us, as always. Well, me and Z███, really. B███ moved out a while back now. Moved in with his fiancé. Did you know he has a fiancé? You probably do. Posted it all over his Instagram account. Proposed right there on that snowy mountain. Just five days before their anniversary, too. Nearly lost the ring and everything, the idiot.

You remember Z███, right? Dad’s baby with M█████? She’s 11 now. Almost through primary school. She asks about you. Everyone does, really, but she’s the only one who doesn’t understand. What you’re doing. Where you are. Why you left. I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t know what to tell anyone.

I almost forgot to ask: how did the church confirmation go? Was S██████ and his family able to attend? Or are they still stuck in Fiji? Sorry I couldn’t be there. Bit far from Canberra, I’m sure you can imagine. Got my own life going, too, really. Have for a while now. Not that I think they’d let me in anyway.

Look, I need you to understand something about me. And this isn’t easy to say so I’m just going to go ahead and say it.

I’m a wo

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Hey Mum,

I’m a woman. Can’t dance around it. I’m sure you’ve seen my profile. To be honest, the “he” part’s a bit for show. Got the rest of the family friended on there. Haven’t really sat them down yet. Don’t want to. Whole thing’s a bit bullshit, y’know? All that pressure to come out, when they shouldn’t even assume to begin with. Not that I’m subtle.

I don’t know what that means to you. I don’t know how drastically that affects your perception of me. I don't know if you still think of me as your clever little boy. I don’t know. And to be honest, I don’t care.

I couldn’t begin to describe what you’ve missed. What I’ve been through. All the while you’ve been off getting chummy with a church that may well want me dead. Can you imagine that? Your faith versus your child? I’d ask what you’d pick, but I feel like you made that choice long ago.

That’s what it means to be born again, right? Chosen by Him, to be a part of His grand vision for a better world? A kinder world. A world where all is right and just, and no one has to suffer. Because there’s no depravity in the world. No mavericks, no perverts, no queers.

Really, you could say I was born again, too. Born a man, reborn a woman. Funny how that works out. No matter where I go, what I do, I’m always following in your footsteps. Even now, as I’m doing uni, all I can think about is you and your PhD in fashion.

How’s that going, by the way? Heard you became a security guard up in Canberra for a bit. I can’t imagine what it must be like, giving up on being a parent, ignoring us, wasting the first fifteen years of our lives studying something you don’t even care about anymore. Was it just for the title, doctor? Is that it?

I bet I know what you’re thinking. Dad’s brainwashed us, told us all these tall tales about how bad you were, about how bad you treated him. Stories of restraining orders, psychiatry visits, courts, and medications. I bet you think he hates you, after all he did for you. Did for us. Isn’t that sad?

Well, there was one story. You remember A███, right? Your old pothead boyfriend with the son who bullied me? That you never stepped in about? Dad told me the other day he tried to warn him. Not out of spite, but out of care. He tried to tell him about your mental illness. Your bipolar disorder. Your tendencies. The tendencies that caused you two to split.

A███ wouldn’t listen. Told Dad to fuck off. Thought he was trying to be manipulative and spiteful. Thought he was trying to drive a wedge between you two, the beacons of functionality and happiness you were. But I think I know the exact moment it clicked.

The roundabout. You know the one, in Montrose? The two of you were fighting, and he pulled up the handbrake in the middle of the road. Skidded us out. Could’ve killed us. I bet that’s when he snapped. Realised what was wrong with you. Realised maybe, just maybe, there was a little bit of truth to what Dad said. Didn’t get better from then, did it?

He told us, y’know. Last day in the house. Last time he saw us. I’ll forever remember those words. “Your dad was right.”

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Hey Mum,

I’m sorry. I don’t know when you’re reading this, or if you’re reading this, or why you’re reading this, to be honest. You don’t owe me anything. But I owe you everything.

I know, okay? I know you did everything in your power to stay with us. I know you tried so, so hard to be a good mother. I know you didn’t want to leave. But you had to. I get that. I know that.

But it hurts, y’know? It’s hurt for as long as you’ve been gone, and even before that. It’s not just nine years. It’s been my entire life. You not being there for me. Remember that day I had a huge concert at Hamer Hall? I was really looking forward to it. But you wanted to go to the beach. So you called me in sick, and we went to the beach.

And I know. I know that’s how you were raised. I know Pa never supported you. I know he shipped you off to a boarding school when you were young, like his father did to him, and I’m sure his grandfather did to his father. But how can I accept that when Dad’s always been here?

That’s not fair. You and Dad were never going to work out. You’re both too emotional. He just does a better job of hiding it. Always has. He really loved you, y’know that? If he’s anything like me, I know he would’ve done anything for you. But you’re not the same. You can’t live like that.

I miss you. I miss the country. I miss those days on your dad’s farm with the kelpies and the sheep and the tractor rides. I miss going to the pool with you and aunty Lindsey. I miss sitting with Narnie on the porch with her little poodle, Molly, playing with rocks from the garden.

But I can’t go back to that, huh? That’s how life is. It moves on, one step at a time. And we leave people behind. Important people. People we loved. I just never thought you’d do that to your own baby b

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Hey Mum,

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Hey Mum,

Long time no talk.

I’m doing well.

I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll put it succinctly.

I don’t want to talk to you.