Last week, Year 11 student, Tanatswa Chidiku, proudly represented Gunnedah High School in the Parliamentary Public Speaking Competition at the Regional Roadshow in Tamworth.
Tanatswa took to the stage as part of the regional heat with a speech that was both provocative and powerful. Drawing from personal experience and the untold stories of others, she spoke on ‘the colour of silence’ and the impact of unspoken white privilege in society.
The Regional Roadshow is part of a NSW Parliament initiative launched last year in recognition of 200 years of democracy, and serves as a platform for students to engage directly with parliamentary staff. Tanatswa embraced this opportunity with courage and conviction, using her voice to advocate for awareness, inclusion, and meaningful change.
A school spokesperson remarked how incredibly proud the school was of Tanatswa for her honesty, insight, and strength.
“She exemplifies Gunnedah High School’s core values of respect, responsibility, and doing your best, and shows that young voices can, and do, make a powerful impact,” the spokesperson said.
An extract from Tanatswa’s speech
“You see, privilege is not merely possession — it is insulation.
It is the quiet certainty that you belong, that your face is familiar, that your voice is the default.
It is the comfort of never being asked, “Where are you really from?” — a question that peels back layers of belonging until you are raw with uncertainty.
At school, I learned to fold myself into shapes that would not alarm.
To iron the accent from my tongue.
To wear my skin like a negotiation, always offering apologies for space I had every right to occupy.
I memorised the maps of their histories while forgetting my own.
I spoke their stories louder than I ever dared to speak my own.
I became fluent… in invisibility.
But still, the thread pulled tight.
When I excelled, it was attributed to charity or quotas.
When I faltered, it was seen as proof.
When I succeeded, I became an exception;
When I struggled, I became a stereotype.
You tell me: how do you bloom in a garden where the soil itself denies you?
How do you sing your name into the wind when every echo tries to drown it in forgetfulness?
It is not hatred that strangles us.
It is the indifference wrapped in good intentions.
The easy deflections:
“I don’t see colour.”
“We’re all human here.”
“Don’t be so sensitive.”
Read more: gunnedahtimes.com.au
But I want you to see my colour.
I want you to see the history braided into my skin.
I want you to see the centuries of voices that travelled with me across oceans, in dreams stitched with exile and hope.
I want you to understand that pretending not to see is not kindness.
It is erasure.”
