Evelyn Araluen has won the $60,000 Stella Prize for her playful and searing debut collection of poetry and prose, Dropbear, which was described by the prize judges as "breathtaking".
Her win was announced by Miles Franklin-winning Bundjalung author and judging panel chair Melissa Lucashenko at an event at the State Library Victoria in Melbourne on Thursday night.
"Dropbear is remarkably assured for a debut poetry collection, and I think we can safely say it announces the arrival of a stunning new talent to Australian literature," Lucashenko said.
Araluen, a descendant of the Bundjalung Nation born in Dharug Country and now based in Naarm/Melbourne, began writing poetry while she was studying her great-grandfather's language at TAFE, becoming attuned to poetic techniques like fragmentation and different sentence structures.
"I honestly don't think I would have become a poet if I hadn't started learning that language," she told ABC Arts in 2021.
Araluen is only the second Aboriginal writer to win the prize in its 10-year history – after Waanyi writer Alexis Wright in 2018.
"To be given the same prize that Alexis Wright has been given is just so confusing to me. It's an insane honour," Araluen told ABC Arts.
At 29, the poet, researcher and co-editor of progressive literary journal Overland is also the youngest ever winner of the Stella – and it's a prize she's always wanted to win.
She has followed the Stella since she started her writing career about seven years ago, dreaming that she would win the prize for her (forthcoming) debut novel.
But then, this year, the Stella Prize broadened its eligibility criteria to include poetry — and Dropbear was among three collections that made the shortlist, alongside a novel, an experimental essay, and a graphic novel.
"It's been so bizarre for things to happen [in my career] so much faster than I was anticipating."
Decolonial poetics
Dropbear is structured in three sections: GATHER, SPECTRE and DEBRIS. The poems in each section range from hopeful, even romantic, to overtly political and teasing, often conjuring vivid imagery of the Australian landscape, and touching on subjects like Black Lives Matter and the pandemic.
A number of pieces, including PYRO and Breath, are visceral in their descriptions of life during Australia's catastrophic bushfire season of 2019-20.
"AGAIN WE ARE UNHEARD AS WE SPEAK KNOWINGS WE HAVE CARRIED TO CARE FOR THIS PLACE THROUGH RECKONING // … I WROTE THIS POEM AT A DESK COVERED IN ASH," Araluen writes in PYRO.
Araluen's poems are also marked by their defiance of Eurocentric poetic conventions; they often use white space and punctuation in novel ways to comment on the impact of colonisation.
In Fern Up Your Own Gully, she writes: "fern up the gully girls / go live those pastel bush dreams / while me and my ancestors sit pissed swinging on / the verandah couch."
The collection is peppered with references to the Australian literature and pop culture Araluen grew up with – from 1971 film Wake in Fright and 1992's FernGully: The Last Rainforest to Blinky Bill and Snugglepot and Cuddlepie, and the works of poets including Les Murray, Banjo Paterson and Kenneth Slessor.
"The main inspiration of Dropbear really was to provide an honest depiction of my relationship with Australian literature," Araluen explains.
Her answer to that influence over her tastes is to deconstruct those stories, illuminating and problematising myths about Australia and Australianness – often with a sense of humour.
In Mrs Kookaburra Addresses the Natives, Araluen uses the words of May Gibbs to draw attention to how Aboriginal peoples and their countries have been represented in children's literature.
"Such festive spirits we were in and against / as Snugglepot and Cuddlepie held corrobboree / for the native bears at White City®."
It's a powerful reclaiming of language to illuminate colonial attitudes.
"The ambition with a lot of my poetry is to create a space for play, for snarkiness, for sarcasm, for challenge, that is about empowering a sense of confidence, of ease," Araluen told ABC Arts in 2021.
"It's about embodying this idea that's never been extended to First Nations about the larrikin spirit."
First Nations dominance
Even though she felt erased by the Australian literary canon, Araluen is now part of a flourishing movement of First Nations writers.
"We're in one of the most exciting times for Black writing I think that we've ever seen," Araluen told ABC TV's Art Works in 2021.
Wiradjuri author Tara June Winch won the Miles Franklin in 2020, while Gunaikurnai woman Veronica Gorrie this year won the $100,000 Victorian Prize for Literature.
Araluen's Stella Prize win is another example in a recent history of the publishing industry paying attention to First Nations poetry in particular – including Mununjali Yugambeh poet Ellen van Neerven's sweep of the NSW Premier's Literary Awards in 2021.
She gives the credit for this growing recognition to the women who have come before her – pointing to late Wiradjuri poet and activist Aunty Kerry Reed-Gilbert and late Goernpil writer Lisa Bellear.
"I see that [recent recognition] as a representation of decades of work done by others to get us to this point," she says.
She also points to the influence of contemporaneous First Nations poets, including Narungga woman Natalie Harkin, Gomeroi writer Alison Whittaker, and van Neerven.
"We are all so in love with each other's work," Araluen says.
Speaking at the Stella Prize ceremony on Thursday night, Araluen acknowledged the influence of other women writers on her work.
"I'll spend my life searching for ways to thank them for what they've given to generations of storytellers like myself."
Five First Nations authors made the Stella longlist this year, with Wiradjuri author Anita Heiss, Wiradjuri artist and writer S.J Norman, and Mununjali and South Sea Islander academic Chelsea Watego, joining the shortlisted Araluen and Noongar and Yawuru writer Elfie Shiosaki.
"What a beautiful little community of incredible Black people," says Araluen.
"It's so exciting and I've loved all of their works as well … I really think that [Chelsea Watego's] Another Day in the Colony is one of those books that everyone needs to read."
But the strong representation of First Nations writers in the shortlist was met with a negative response in The Australian, with readers quoted saying the longlist was an example of "politics" and "overcorrection".
At the time, Araluen described the article as "dog whistling".
"I get to be proud of what I achieved, to share it with my family without making them feel worried about what people might think," she added.
She tells ABC Arts that narratives like this ignore First Nations peoples' strong storytelling tradition, as well as their work supporting one another.
"We are doing everything that we can to help each other publish and write and get out there," she says.
"It's just such a miserable and cynical thing to say … People should be ashamed that they can't look at something as exciting and as powerful as that list without trying to create drama.
"But having said all of that, we're used to being positioned as some kind of controversial discussion piece for the sake of a white audience … So, what's new? Get a better line, I guess?"
A time and place for writing
While the Stella is usually worth $50,000, Araluen was awarded an extra $10,000 following a successful fundraising campaign to ensure the future of the prize.
The Stella Forever Fund raised $3 million, including $1 million from philanthropist and former Stella deputy chair, Paula McLean. That money will allow the Stella to keep running in perpetuity.
The prize money will give Araluen herself some financial security.
"Last year, I was completely f***ing broke," she says.
She plans to use some of the money to pay her tax bill and to pay down her HECS debt, as well as to go towards the cost of her wedding to her partner – her co-editor on Overland, Jonathan Dunk – later this year.
For now, she is working on her debut novel, about an Aboriginal person navigating Australian literary history and culture. She's juggling that with two academic jobs in Melbourne, and the editor role at Overland.
"It's hard to find a time and place for writing," she says.
In her acceptance speech, Araluen explained that her experience working a number of jobs is all too common for artists.
"Artists, in this country anyway, are used to instability … We're used to living one pay cheque away from poverty.
"Despite this slap in the face, this blunt dismissal of the clear social and cultural good the arts provides to all Australians, artists were still advocating and organising throughout the pandemic, and the fires and the floods. They were still working through the isolation of endless lockdowns in the hope that their creative efforts, their work, would help someone else survive."
She called for greater support of artists and arts workers.
"I don't want the dignity and the peace this prize provides to be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a handful of the lucky ones though," she said.
What's in a name?
The $60,000 sum brings the Stella on par with the Miles Franklin Award, with whom the prize shares a namesake. The creation of the Stella in 2012 was partly inspired by the underrepresentation of women in the Miles Franklin; no women were on the 2011 shortlist.
But the Stella Prize has been criticised in the past for its association with Franklin, who was a member of a Nazi-inspired movement in Australia during WWII.
Writer and editor Alison Croggon described the exaltation of Franklin as part of the "legacy of white supremacy in our national literature" in a 2020 tweet.
Araluen says: "Two of our major literary prizes are named after the same individual who has fascist affiliations and histories."
"Australia has this inextricable history of settler-colonial, imperial-fascist, white supremacist affiliations. We would be stupid to pretend that it's not there. But should we be placing the emphasis on artists, on writers, on precariat workers to be constantly shouldering the burden of redressing structural issues?"
It's not up to individual artists to reject the prize money, she says. At the same time, she is critical of making superficial tweaks — like changing the name – instead of addressing structural issues.
"A name is not anywhere near as important as ensuring that an organisation has structures and systems set up for advocacy; that it is taking on guidance and advice from different sections of the community; that it's ensuring that all of its opportunities are accessible," says Araluen.
In early 2021, Araluen was part of a consultation group engaged by the Stella Prize to discuss the issues facing writers and how the organisation could address concerns about service delivery, inclusivity and accessibility.
In a statement provided to ABC Arts in March, Stella executive director Jaclyn Booton said:
"We have considered Stella's name and consulted with a range of people from across the literary, academic, and philanthropic sectors on what a change might mean … Deeply entrenched connections between literature, racism, and power are being challenged, thanks in no small part to the work of First Nations people and writers of colour. Stella is committed to amplifying the voices of these writers."
A radically different market
Araluen hopes that her win – and the inclusion of poetry in the Stella Prize – will help Australian poets reach a wider audience and create further opportunities for them.
"There is some possibility here to really encourage people to start reading outside of their comfort zone and to realise that there's more out there than just fiction," she says.
It is difficult in a small market like Australia for poets to find a publisher, says Araluen — not only for full-length collections, but for experimental and niche work.
"How do we advocate for more poetry? How do we advocate for other opportunities?" Araluen asks.
"[Hopefully] we'll see in the next few years a radically different market and space for Australian poetry publishing."
Dropbear is out now through University of Queensland Press.
