About a month ago, Catherine was checking my vacancies for a speaking gig. Suddenly, I saw her abruptly stop flipping the diary’s pages forward. She quickly flipped two pages in reverse before stabbing an entry with an accusing finger. “When did I become Mum!” She demanded. “Well, Jack’s about fifteen and a half, so it’s been a little while, now,” I mused. Apparently, Mum’s don’t always have a sense of humour.

I looked at the entry. Sure enough, there it was, scribbled in red pen, “Mum’s Christmas party.” “You used to call me baby.” She said. “Baby,” I said, in my best consolatory voice, “I still do!”

Of course, Catherine’s question has highlighted something that I’ve always known – words are magic. Those who know me, know that I call the pencil I carry in my dilly bag my magic stick. Words, both written and spoken, have the power to change the way people feel about me and how I feel about them, in a moment. Words are also very telling. When people speak, you should listen carefully. It’s the nuances of language that often set both tone and meaning.

Now, let’s talk about why I wrote ‘Mum’ and not baby. Are you listening, baby? It was written without thought but if I must question the why, it is because William is only 17 months old and he is vulnerable in this world. The care givers in his world, his mother, father, siblings, and extended family, are imperative to his safety and survival. Our relationship to him must currently take precedent over our relationship with anyone else in this world. Therefore, the fact that Catherine is William’s Mum must be more important, currently, than my relational context to her. To think, all of that meaning sitting behind one little word, Mum.

That considered, it’s not surprising that a string of words can carry either great healing or great harm. This brings me to the reason that I sat to write today. Sorry for the lengthy introduction but here’s the segway.

In early November, my attention was drawn to a news article published by the Guardian. I was too annoyed to write before now as what I read felt like knife to the heart. Today, I feel ready to write, as I remind myself that the pen is mightier than any sword, including the imaginary one protruding from my chest.  The 4 November 2023 headline, reads, Fury as Braverman depicts Homelessness as a Lifestyle Choice.

She’s a Braverman, or woman, than most, I’d say. Indeed, it was brave to state that homeless people were choosing to sleep rough, a ‘lifestyle choice’ as she put it.  Of course, these are the words and observations of a privileged person. Braverman is someone who has had very little engagement with people that struggle to survive in an economy which continues to extract their ability to pay the rent, the bills, and put food on the table.

Braverman, a member of the Conservative Party (Torrie) in the UK, has had a very privileged upbringing. She is the niece of Mahen Kundasamy, a former Mauritian High commissioner to the United Kingdom. She attended the Uxendon Manor Primary School in Brent and the fee-paying Heathfield School, Pinner, on a partial scholarship, after which, she read law at Queens’ College, Cambridge.

You may wonder why a small dagger thrown by some ignorant and privileged conservative, who lives in the United Kingdom, has wounded me so. Futile or not, the emotion I’ve invested into Braverman’s words, is in direct proportion to my understanding around the power of words. Indeed, it has taken over two months to pull her sword from my chest.

When a leader speaks, their words can transcend seas and cultures. In an instant, a person’s words can serve as nourishment for a thought that can either carry a nation to revolutionary change or bind them to old ideas. When a high-profile politician vomits such carelessly placed remarks, the influence is vast. Consequently, the impact, the suffering, and the cost, intrinsic and otherwise, can be catastrophic.

Unlike my perhaps careless use of the word Mum scrawled in my diary, politicians are often more calculated in their approach to wordsmithing than we may credit them. What we may initially think is a careless placed remark, can often be more premeditated than first though.

Since World War II, right up until the new millennium, Australian’s were a rather personable bunch who were committed to resettling genuine refugees. In 2001, the “Tampa affair” changed this. 433 refugees who were escaping the Taliban, via a leaking boat, were stopped by the Australian Military. Australia was doubling down on hardline policies around those entering the country via boats: refugee or not. What I observed throughout this period was the distinct change in the way politicians began to speak about those fleeing their war-ravaged counties via sea.

John Howard, the Australian Prime Minister, at the time, removed the word ‘refugee’ from Australian vernacular, by replacing it with ‘boat people.’ The word ‘refugee’ provokes empathy but the expression ‘boat people’ provokes disdain as it contains an insinuation that these people were ‘up to no good’. Clearly, their surreptitious mode of transport, a leaky boat, proved their intentions and guilt. It’s laughable, but Howard’s influence on the national opinion surrounding refugees, was far reaching and with a majority support, the government were able to introduce a plethora of hard-hitting anti-refugee laws.

I repeat, words are powerful.

I ponder if, in another time and place, Braverman’s choice of words, may have won her equal first place in the ignorance stakes with Marie Antoinette. Though arguably more delicious, how could French peasants, who had no bread, substitute for something of even greater value like cake? Likewise, how can those amongst Britain’s poorest, without resources, and without support systems, choose anything other than the streets?

Two hundred and thirty-four years on and it appears that the privileged still fail to grasp what most of us know as reality.  Both Braverman and Antoinette, forever immortalised by their obliviousness to the conditions and daily lives of those that they were wrongfully tasked to liberate.

There are two possibilities here. Either Braverman is a product of her privilege, or she is doing a John Howard. Could Braverman be trying to change the narrative around homelessness, to one of an “at fault” position. If you think about it, if the homeless were at fault, nobody, including the government, would be expected to do anything about it.

Here in Australia, there are many, including businesspeople and politicians, that also share this warped belief that homelessness is a choice. They seem to have missed the abundant indicators that inform most of us that homeless people are not privileged, and therefore, have little to no available choices.

I am yet to meet a single homeless person who at some point was tossing up between, street sleeping and a home on a quarter acre block with a white picket fence. Rising rents, domestic violence, mental health challenges, major trauma events and sudden unexpected life changes, including physical illness and even divorce, can all contribute to homelessness.

There’s no punchy conclusion to this piece of writing. There’s just a feeling of sadness. For many years I have believed that when voting we need to consider the needs of the most vulnerable person in our communities and choose our political representatives with those people in mind. Only then, we will see a more understanding, and a more in-touch, group of leaders in our developed nations. Only then, will we see someone willing to take responsibility for what is a growing and tragic epidemic.

However, until then, ‘Mum’s the word’ on who’s responsible for those who are homeless within our communities, and as we now all know, it pays to be wary of one’s use of the word Mum.