Total Control : “Black bitch” offending the offenders

Abstract

Total Control (2019–2024) is a political drama that follows the story of Rachel Griffiths as the prime minister of so-called Australia and Deborah Mailman as her political rival. Available on demand on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) iView, Total Control was initially called “Black Bitch” to draw attention to the historical racial slur but was forced to change its title due to a social media storm. Total Control demonstrates striking parallels with the treatment of real-life Indigenous women in politics. This article looks at the role of social media as a platform that provides a way for Indigenous women to engage in public politics. It discusses these technologies as providing settlers with the means to publicly malign Indigenous women. It draws from research on the use and abuse of social media in relation to Indigenous users and is underscored by the blurred boundary between fiction and non-fiction Indigenous realities.

Introduction

I love watching television and even more so when it is a series that is written by or has Indigenous actors, themes and content. It’s an escape. The world gets busy, work is insane and as an avid social media user, I probably spend way too much time reading what other people think. Sometimes binge watching a good series is a relief from the madness that social media can be. As I write, we are preparing for a referendum to decide on the Voice to Parliament. The Voice to Parliament proposes an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander advisory chosen by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples to offer advice to the government on policies and laws that directly affect us. My feed is filled up with people squabbling about which position is best—all sides convinced that the other will result in an inevitable dystopian outcome for Indigenous peoples (Liddle, 2023).

Many Indigenous peoples are supporting a yes vote but there are others who publicly support voting no. Indigenous no voters are not all the same (Carlson, 2023b). One side prefers conversations around Treaty and sovereignty and the other, a small number, sees the Voice as divisive and prefers we are all just recognised as Australian. Settlers are actively weighing in, and it seems as if it’s a divided camp there too. Some are trying to be good “allies” (Fredericks et al., 2020, para. 6) and want to vote yes hoping for better outcomes for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. There is, however, much confusion around whether to vote yes or no and what the outcomes for either decision might be. Settlers often post asking what they should do and which way they should vote. Others, and there are many, post that they will vote no. Settlers who are no voters can be loosely divided into two groups. One group states they will vote no, and this is usually if they disagree with anything any one Indigenous person posts. The other group will vote no because they have brought into the misinformation spread about how voting yes will result in Indigenous peoples benefitting economically. Generally, settlers determined to vote no are those concerned that Indigenous peoples will gain power that may result in us having a say over our lives. Their perceived authority over us is always evident and always relentless.

Politics is a messy business, and for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, it can also be violent. The number of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples joining political parties and running for election is increasing. In 2022, the National Indigenous Times (NIT) reported a record number of Indigenous members of parliament were voted into Federal parliament (Zaunmayr, 2022). There is much danger in being an Indigenous person in the public domain, particularly for Indigenous women. In 2021, NIT reported that women in politics are up to three times more likely to be a target of abuse, and particularly online (Thorpe & Cox, 2021). This issue is exacerbated for Indigenous women, who are relentlessly trolled, abused and threatened more than any other cohort (Carlson & Day, 2021; Valencia-Forrester et al., 2023). The abuse is often racially motivated, misogynistic and highly personal (Valencia-Forrester et al., 2023).

The violence experienced by Indigenous women in the public domain is explored in a television drama Total Control (2019–2021) screened on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC). The series is directed by Indigenous film and television director Rachel Perkins. At the time of writing, there were two seasons with a third scheduled for 2024. The first aired in 2019 and the second in 2021. Each season consists of six 1-hr episodes. I enjoyed watching every episode of both Seasons 1 and 2 and I look forward to Season 3. Total Control is a political drama that follows the story of Rachel Anderson, the prime minister of so-called Australia, played by actor Rachel Griffiths, and her rival Alex Irving, an independent member of parliament who is also Aboriginal, played by actor Deborah Mailman. The term “so-called Australia” is used by Carlson and Farrelly in the title of their 2023 book, Monumental Disruptions: Aboriginal People and Colonial Commemorations in So-Called Australia to make the point that Australia, a settler colonial nation state, was established based on the legal fiction of terra nullius and was and is home to hundreds of self-identifying nations of Indigenous peoples. Both series are available on demand on ABC iView. Total Control demonstrates some striking parallels with the treatment of Mailman’s character and real-life Indigenous women engaged in politics and particularly across digital platforms such as social media.

In examining this fictional drama, this article looks at the role of social media in providing a platform for Indigenous women to engage in the public domain while simultaneously arming settlers with a way to malign Blak women who dare to be outspoken and criticise the colony. My research has focused on Indigenous digital lives for over a decade. I am a public intellectual and share my work across digital platforms and due to my anti-colonial approach, that is always about privileging Indigenous peoples, communities and County, I am viewed by many settlers to be a “shit stirrer” and “un-Australian” (Carlson & Farrelly, 2023, p. 8). I am an Aboriginal woman who is also a Distinguished Professor of Critical Indigenous Studies. I am outspoken and have on many occasions been told off by settlers for daring to be so bold. Right-wing media commentator Andrew Bolt (2016) referred to me as “the enemy of free speech” (para. 3) and an ABC News Fact Check, in partnership with RMIT University, was called when I dared to publicly outline the horrifying and violent deeds of colonisers who are highly commemorated as so-called founding fathers of this nation (“Fact check: Was Lachlan Macquarie a Mass Murderer Who Ordered the Genocide of Indigenous People?,” 2017). This article will specifically focus on the parallels between the character Alex Irving and Gunnai (Aboriginal nation of south-east Australia), Gunditjmara (Aboriginal nation of far south-western Victoria) and Djab Wurrung (Aboriginal nation of central Victoria) Independent Senator Lidia Thorpe. My analysis draws from the manifold ways in which social media abuse is directed specifically at Indigenous women. While I understand the boundary between fiction and non-fiction, Total Control blurs that distinction by demonstrating a fictional account of what we, Indigenous women, experience as reality.

“Black bitch”

The television series Total Control (Riley et al., 2019) started amid controversy. The new series which premiered in 2019 caused a social media storm when it was publicised that it was to be called “Black Bitch.” Those who opposed the suggested title argued that “Black Bitch” connotes a spectacle for the viewing of settlers that could be read as the unashamed exploitation and commodification of Indigenous women’s suffering. The @ABCIndigenous tweeted that the working title was “a deliberate reclamation of a racial slur” (ABC Indigenous, 2019). The reclamation of problematic terms as I have previously written relies on the consensus by the group to whom the term is directed (Carlson et al., 2014). It appears this was not the case as many Indigenous women posted their discontent with the term. Indigenous Twitter user, @Ashy_jayray tweeted,

Any Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander women will tell you about their first experience being called a “black bitch” and it has never in all my experience or in the opinion of others ever been empowering or something to reclaim, what is wrong with your Indigenous Unit. Shame! (Ashy, 2019)

Language matters because it is neither a neutral nor unproblematic medium. There are a number of examples where the attempted reclamation of particular terms has not been supported by other members of the group (Carlson et al., 2014). The term Bitch is used to dehumanise and is a frequently used gender-based insult (Kleinman et al., 2009). Add Black to the term and you create a racist misogynistic insult which was the case in Total Control when Irving’s car was spray painted with Black Bitch by an anonymous member of the public. In this instance, Black Bitch is intended to be read as an insult. However, as many social media users pointed out, public use of the term works in some way towards making it acceptable to use in the everyday. Nonetheless, familiarity with an intended insult takes time to be recontextualised. Also, texts carry a dominant message; in this case, the intended usage was a clear reminder for many of its origins. Black Bitch thus potentially conveys a powerful message through the purpose attached to it by the user and its reception by the reader. Language also draws on history; Black bitch is an insult that is integral to colonial history. Historically, the term is neither neutral nor apolitical. As McGloin and Carlson (2013) argue, “Language, then, is political: it has real effects” (p. 2).

However, it is the case that not all Aboriginal peoples agree that the proposed title Black Bitch was problematic. Aboriginal scholar Maria Langton posted on X, formerly Twitter, that it was freedom of expression and wrote that she loved the original title and that “the title change in Australia is designed to accommodate the sensitivities of snowflakes” (as cited in Dow, 2019, para. 11). Deborah Mailman who plays the lead also stated she was in favour of the title and said,

I loved it because it was in context of the story we were telling. It was always a working title. But certainly as a creative team, we had the privilege to understand why it was called that, because it is part of a story. It was deeply considered. It wasn’t something that the team thought, “Oh, we’re just going to call it this for controversy’s sake.” (as cited in Dow, 2019, para. 12)

While these standpoints may be proudly claimed by those of us who understand the flexibility and ambiguity of language and seek to reclaim colonial expressions of insult and hurl them back, perhaps for others such a reclamation may take time or not be possible. In any case, the ABC Indigenous responded acknowledging the controversy and announced the new title would be Total Control. @Ashy_jayray again tweeted,

I’m glad you see the comments of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander women and I hope you listen its 2019, and we refuse to be labelled slurs and stereotypes any more those days are over either get with it or reap the back lash. #stopenablingracism. (Ashy, 2019)

Total Control

The new title, Total Control, does raise some interesting questions around who the title refers to. Certainly, Mailman’s character Alex Irving initially does not have total control over any of the politicking illustrated throughout, but she quickly learns the game. Interestingly, Total Control has two women in leading roles: Griffiths, as Prime Minister in Season 1 and Mailman as Griffiths’s combatant in the brutal game of politics. This situation is unusual even in popular culture as politics is more generally viewed as a “male-centric” (Meeks & Domke, 2016, p. 895) and as a “white man’s game” (Alfred, 1999, p. 4). Referring to politicians as “demographic clones,” journalist Antoun Issa (2021, para. 1) comments, “the pathway to parliament are often determined by a set of pedigree: Anglo-Celtic? Tick. Male? Tick. Private school educated? Tick.” As sociologist Raewyn Connell (2005) points out, “public politics on almost any definition is men’s politics” (p. 204). In a dissonant way like Black God, played by Morgan Freeman in the film Bruce Almighty (Shadyac, 2003), and Gay Jesus, played by Cameron Monaghan in the 2018 Season 8, Episode 10 of Shameless (2011–2021). Total Control provides a scenario yet to be seen in Australian politics.

Season 1

Season 1 opens with a scene depicting a domestic violence situation that shows a White man armed with a gun who is actively hunting his partner (Page et al., 2019a). Failing to appear in court over a custody hearing the man tracks down his estranged partner and shoots her. Mailman’s character Alex Irving in an act of selfless bravery protects the injured woman and puts her own life at risk to block the shooter from delivering a second and likely fatal shot to the woman. The man turns the gun on himself. Meanwhile the Prime Minister, Griffiths’s character Rachel Anderson, is watching this play out on the news. Impressed by Irving’s bravery, Anderson notes the potential in Irving to replace a recently deceased member of the party that has reduced the party’s Senate majority. She also notes the public attention Irving is gaining across social media platforms. And so, the game begins.

Political dramas are always intriguing as they reveal dirty politicking and power relations. Of course, these representations are conceivable considering how all governments operate in relation to Indigenous peoples. We are accustomed to being political footballs when it comes to decision-making. The Howard years are a prime example of this issue. John Howard served as prime minister and leader of the Liberal Party from 1996 to 2007. Over that time, he engaged in a number of policy actions to the detriment of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. In 1996, he abolished any ideas of self-determination that had been established in the 1970s by the Whitlam Government (Hocking, 2018) and enacted the Native Title Amendment Act 1998 giving more rights to mining companies (Sherwood, 2013). Howard also abandoned the Reconciliation movement and in 2005 dismantled the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission (ATSIC) (Sherwood, 2013). He belligerently refused to apologise to the Stolen Generations (Krishnan, 2022) and in what Sherwood (2013) describes as “his most destructive vote seeking policy” (p. 36), he implemented the Northern Territory Intervention in 2007. The Northern Territory Intervention entailed the Australian army being sent into 73 Aboriginal communities across the Northern Territory, and Aboriginal peoples lands and lives being seized and subjected to numerous controls (Altman, 2017). Elements of this policy are still active in 2023 (ABC News, 2023) and the policy has always received bipartisan support from both sides of politics under the guise of some kind of supposed protection that invariably incorporated enforced relocation, the theft of land and the control of all aspects of daily life. Howard suspended the Commonwealth Racial Discrimination Act 1975 to enable the discriminatory actions that were triggered by the testimony of a supposed youth worker reporting on high levels of child sexual abuse and paedophile rings operating in Aboriginal communities. The supposed youth worker was revealed to be Greg Andrews, a government employee who had never been to any of the communities defamed by his testimony. Watson (2009) and Altman (2017) identify clearly that land is central to the violent actions such as those implemented under the Northern Territory Intervention that privilege mining companies—a theme taken up by Total Control.

Season 1 of this series covers a number of issues pertinent to Aboriginal peoples and also their experiences with disingenuous governments and authorities such as dealing with mining companies, deaths in custody and being at the losing end of policies that are detrimental to Indigenous peoples. At the same time, Irving deals with the death of her mother, child removal and her commitment to the community and to her family that are often in conflict with the demands of the job (Page et al., 2019a). From the outset, Irving and her family are sceptical of the offer to enter into politics and there are concerns that the offer is not genuine. Regardless, Irving takes up the offer to join the Liberal Party and heads to Canberra, the epicentre of politics in Australia. Irving believes she can make a difference for her community of Winton, a real-life town in far-west Queensland which has featured in other movies including crime series Mystery Road (2018)—also featuring Mailman. Being considered as a mere token is explored with Irving’s politically astute brother Charlie, played by Ron Collins, warning her that the Liberal party was trying to use her for their own political gain. Without a doubt, Indigenous politicians are often weaponised against the broader Indigenous population. This has been very evident in the recent public debates around the Voice to Parliament. Jacinta Price, Senator for the Northern Territory and a Liberal Party member, is the Indigenous spokesperson supporting the Liberal Party’s stance against the Voice to Parliament. Price is rolled out as a kind of poster girl for an imagined authentic Aboriginal identity while at the same time endorsing an assimilation ideology often promoted by the Liberals along with the right-wing political party, One Nation. These parties promote the idea that we are now all Australian, a mantra sentimentalised in the famous reminiscent of the anthemic song I am Australian (1987), “I am, you are, we are Australian” (The Seekers, 1993, chorus, line 6) that is used to establish a view of the nation as a unified entity. Unfortunately, this standpoint carries with it an underlying assumption that any assertion of difference, in this case, Indigenous rights, is somehow divisive—a word used often in current times. Price is thus scripted by some exponents of unity as a good Aborigine—a sarcastic term generally applied to those Indigenous peoples considered a token inclusion into settler society or considered by settlers as the ideal Aboriginal person—precisely because she endorses the dominant narrative of national unity, that is, a non-divisive Australia.

Recently, the Liberal Party leader, Peter Dutton, appointed Price as the new shadow minister for Indigenous Australians in an effort to derail Labour’s push for a yes vote for the upcoming referendum (Davis, 2023). Price replaces the former minister Ken Wyatt who resigned from the Liberal Party after it made the decision to campaign against the Indigenous Voice to Parliament (Butler, 2023). Price is well known for believing Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples should simply embrace being Australian and take on the values and ways of life that entails. Like Price, in Total Control Irving meets an often-idealised idea of an Aboriginal person living in a rural or remote location and phenotypically meeting settlers’ ideas of what an Aboriginal person looks like. When the now former Liberal Party minister for Indigenous Australians Ken Wyatt was elected to Federal politics, then prime minister Tony Abbott, also a Liberal Party member and supporter of Price, referred to Wyatt as an “urban Aboriginal” (ABC News, 2012, para. 3) and stated,

I would love to think that a highly traditional Australian Aboriginal, who is nevertheless charismatic and inspirational in modern Australia as well, might enter the Federal Parliament . . . I think it would be terrific if, as well as having an urban Aboriginal in our Parliament, we had an Aboriginal person from central Australia, an authentic representative of the ancient cultures of central Australia in the parliament. (ABC News, 2012, paras. 7–8)

To adequately address Abbott’s comment would be a paper in itself! Suffice to say the ideal of the noble savage (Ellingson, 2001) is alive and well. In an article responding to Price’s alignment with the Liberal Party’s stance against the Voice to Parliament, Warren Williams, a member of the Central Lands Council stated, “she needs to stop pretending we are her people . . . her people are non-Aboriginal conservatives and the Canberra elites to which she wants to belong” (Knowles, 2023, paras. 3–4). While rolled out to push policies that are usually to the detriment of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples such politicians rarely have any real political clout and will often become the scapegoats when things don’t go to plan. This concept plays out in Total Control as the warning Charlie Irving gives his sister Alex. Alex phones Charlie to let him know the Liberal Party is trying to recruit her. Charlie responds, “honestly sis, they just want a pet Aborigine. Is that who you are?” (Wang, 2019, para. 9).

Being Indigenous, political and online

Aboriginal peoples are avid social media users (Carlson & Frazer, 2018, 2021) and have been since the early days of social media (Carlson, 2013; Lumby, 2010). They are actively engaged in accessing information on social media including anything to do with politics. It is fair to say that politics and social media platforms are inseparable these days. Social media provides a global public forum and is an effective way to communicate with the masses. Between March and May of 2022 in the lead up to the Federal election in so-called Australia, a total of AUD$12.5 million was spent on advertising across Facebook and Instagram equating to 26,945 political adds (Arya, 2022). While social media has numerous benefits for candidates such as scale and reach, it is also a space where politicians from marginalised communities can become targets for online hate. Day and Carlson (2024) argue that the line between predatory White settler behaviours online and offline is indistinct if it even exists at all.

In Season 1, Episode 3 Irving makes the mistake of looking at the comments made about her on social media (Page et al., 2019b). This is where she begins to understand how social media provides a platform for racists, misogynist and violent predators and perpetrators (Day & Carlson, 2024). One comment Irving receives states, “go back to the bush you black bitch” and another, “take the hint and fuck off Black Bitch” (Page et al., 2019b, 13: 34). In their research, Day and Carlson (2024) connect patterns of White settler violence online to larger systems designed to harm Indigenous peoples and argue that White settler violence is systemic and an assertion of colonial power (Day & Carlson, 2024; Moreton-Robinson, 2015). In 2016, the then Labour Senator Nova Peris, the first Indigenous woman Federal politician in Australia, tweeted, “Getting called a witchetty grub eating black cu*t from a white man in his 60’s #DefineAboriginal” (Nova Peris OAM OLY, 2016). Peris was referring to a Facebook post written by Chris Nelson, a White man who criticised Peris for wearing ochre on her face during her maiden speech in 2013 and stated,

Nova fuck off. You were only endorsed by Juliar [reference to the then prime minister Julia Gillard] because you were a black cunt. Go back to the bush and suck on witchity grubs and yams. Stop painting your fucking face with white shit in parliament. Other than being a runner you are nothing. (2016 as cited in Tolj & Trask, 2016, para. 4)

While more Aboriginal peoples are entering into the political sphere, any public display of Aboriginality results in an immediate and repugnant response from the public and some members of parliament. For example, Senator Lidia Thorpe arrived in parliament with her fist raised in a Black Power salute (Kaliss, 2023), clothed in a possum skin cloak holding a stick engraved with the hundreds of stripes representing Indigenous deaths in custody. Far-right politician Senator Pauline Hanson, leader of the One Nation Party, in an act of White fragility (DiAngelo, 2018), has expressed her dismay at having to be seated next to Thorpe in parliament house (Sky News Australia, 2023). Hanson stated, “I was furious, and I went straight to the president’s office and made a complaint about it. They don’t see any problem with it” (Sky News Australia, 2023, 00:22).

Hanson, who is well known for her racism and White supremacy beliefs, has constantly targeted Thorpe in the media and has been afforded the time by right-wing media outlets such as Sky News. In what might seem unbelievable, Hanson is also promoting and selling merchandise on the One Nation website depicting derogatory images featuring Thorpe. Hanson, who in 2017 turned up at the Senate dressed in a black burqa to make an “erroneous connection between ‘the burqa’ and terrorism,” demanding the burqa be banned in Australian Parliament (Sengul, 2022, p. 55), refers to Thorpe as pulling stunts to “make a name for herself.” Hanson recently appeared on Sky News (2023, para. 1) stating that Thorpe’s actions at a transphobic rally in Canberra were “pathetic from a senator.” At the rally, Thorpe told British anti-trans commentator Kelli-Jay Keen, also known as Posie Parker, that she was not welcome here on Aboriginal lands. In what many saw as objectionable and violent, the Federal police wrestled Thorpe to the ground to protect the transphobic White supremacist who was actively spreading hate speech. Hanson was at the rally in support of Parker as were a group of neo-Nazis (Ore & Beazely, 2023). As many posted on social media, this was a situation that you would doubtfully see if Thorpe was not Aboriginal. One person, Karen Wyld (2023), posted,

Watching the footage of Lidia’s defiance + fear as she struggled to get away from aggressive cops to safety—I’m reminded of every Blackfulla that did not survive police brutality. And I see you racists now posting more hate for her. Hang your head in shame, White Australia.

Labour Minister for Indigenous Australians Linda Burney stated the incident was “disturbing and concerning” (Karp, 2023, para. 1).

Season 1, Episode 6 of Total Control closes with Irving becoming more astute to the political game (Page et al., 2019c). Pushing for justice for a young person killed in custody and negotiating a deal for the community of Wilton, Irving learns the art of political manipulation and double dealing. Surviving these environments takes hard work and the ability to play the game while not being seen as a sell out to your family and community. The accountability that Indigenous politicians have to their family and community far outweighs that of settler politicians. At the same time, they are also required to consider the needs of all of the constituents and their party’s policies. For Indigenous politicians, any one mistake or perceived mistake can isolate them from their community or see them lose favour with the settler population—either scenario can mean the end of their political career. It is a fact that for Indigenous politicians, their choice is far more fraught with peril.

Indigenous politicians and representational dilemmas

Indeed, Indigenous candidates are faced with a conundrum to be supportive of anything that benefits Indigenous peoples and be accused of being unable to be objective and represent all constituents and face questions about authenticity and not measuring up to some fantasy settlers hold about what constitutes an Indigenous person. The latter is clearly demonstrated previously by what Abbott deems as a more authentic Aboriginal person (ABC News, 2012). In 2021, the Victorian Greens political Party announced that their candidate for Cooper, an Australian Electoral Division in the state of Victoria, would be Arrernte (Aboriginal peoples of central Australia region of the Northern Territory) unionist and feminist writer Celeste Liddle. If Liddle had been successful, she would have been the first Aboriginal person to enter the House of Representatives from Victoria (Perry, 2021). When National Indigenous Television posted a story about Liddle’s intention to run for the Federal seat of Cooper, several members of the public posted their opinions with many questioning whether Liddle would represent other people other than just Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. These kinds of accusations are common and are levelled at Indigenous politicians if they dare stand up for anything Indigenous-related. In 2022, while taking the Oath of Allegiance to the monarch of Australia required of parliamentarians, Thorpe referred to the then Queen of England as a coloniser (Butler, 2021). In 2022 on Quora, a social question-answer platform, a question was posed, “What’s your opinion on Australian Greens Senator Lyndia Thorpe calling Queen Elizabeth 11 ‘Illegitimate colonising Queen’?” Thousands responded and many comments were similar to one posted by John A. Bishop who stated, “Lidia Thorpe is a Far-left idiot who has more ancestry from people she considers to be ‘Colonizers’ than she does Aboriginal ancestry” and another post on the same thread by Phillip Shegog, “Thorpe is a vile, horrible creature, no one listens to the moll, if she was genuine she would refuse her generous paypacket from her Majesty’s government, would she?”

Liddle (2023b) wrote of the persistent online harassment she received during the campaign and shared examples of social media posts she received:

By the time the election was finally over and done with, I had pages and pages of this documented. I was also broken and exhausted. Not a single other Greens lower house candidate dealt with this. Indeed, the only person I saw copping the same was Lidia Thorpe and guess what we have in common? None of these people would consider their actions as racist. The media commentator I witnessed gleefully contributing to the pile-on of me being orchestrated by Labor shitposting pages would also not consider her actions as being fuelled by racism. (para. 10)

Total Control has an Indigenous Futurism tactility (Carlson, 2023a). Indigenous Futurisms is a term coined by Anishinaabe (Indigenous peoples from the Great Lakes region of Canada and USA) scholar Grace Dillon (2012) and as I have previously written encompasses distinctively Indigenous perspectives on the past, present and futures and this is often expressed through forms of science fiction, speculative fiction, comic, visual art and incorporates Indigenous knowledges, ontologies and cultures (Carlson, 2023a). I argue,

The importance of Indigenous Futurisms is that it restores Indigeneity as a political force that has and continues to survive all efforts to extinguish threats to its existence. Indigenous Futurisms is a political form of storytelling and imaginings which uses the future as a means of engaging with issues faced in the present and the past. It is a force for activism, a mode of storytelling that reignites a precolonial past with possibility. (Carlson, 2023a, p. 9)

Arguably, that is the interesting element of the series. Many voters are tired of the political game that only seems to benefit settlers and is largely controlled by older White men. Total Control, on the contrary, provides viewers with strong women and particularly a strong, savvy, quick learning Blak woman who makes every attempt to imagine a different scenario that provides leadership that is centred on caring for people and for Country. Irving imagines otherwise; a term coined by Cherokee (Native American people of Southeastern Woodlands of the USA) writer Daniel Heath Justice who argues,

Many of our ancestors were able to imagine otherwise. And I think we are the embodiment of their dreams for the future. And so we’ve got to dream for those yet to come, and hopefully dream a better world and a better set of possibilities for them. (Tennant, 2020, para. 11)

Season 2

Season 2 of Total Control has a new line-up of power-hungry and often deceptive leaders (Griffiths & Page, 2021). Rachael Griffiths’s character has been overthrown and now both political parties are led by White men mirroring the reality of Australian politics. Season 1 ended with Irving revealing the truth behind the coverup of the death in custody of an Aboriginal youth which resulted in the ending of Anderson’s term as Prime Minister (Page et al., 2019c). Labour is keen for Irving to join the party now led by Laurie Martin played by William McInnes (Behrendt et al., 2021a). Irving is sceptical about whether either of the political parties will honour commitments made and take the issue of Aboriginal deaths in custody seriously. On route to a meeting, Alex checks Twitter account and is confronted by hateful posts about her. One person tweeted, “BLACK BITCH ON THE LOOSE. Get out ya guns” and another tweeted, “Black whore I will destroy you #Bait15” (Behrendt et al., 2021a, 22:28).

After quitting The Liberal–National Coalition, commonly known simply as the Coalition or the LNP, an alliance of centre-right political parties, and after feeling disillusioned by Labour and their lack of addressing issues of importance to Irving, she decides to run as an independent in her home seat of Freeman (Behrendt et al., 2021a). Irving’s brother Charlie offers to manage her campaign. He is keen to run a clean campaign with no dirty politicking—an aspiration that is not met. In the background, Aboriginal actor and film director Wayne Blair who plays Paul Murphy is strategically manoeuvring to become Australia’s first Aboriginal prime minister and seeks Irving’s support. Like Irving, Anderson, no longer prime minister, decides to run as an independent for the seat of North Sydney. A new game begins.

Season 2 focusses on the negative campaigning of the two main political parties with which most voters would be familiar (Griffiths & Page, 2021). It also tackles the record number of independents running due to the disillusion of voters around key issues to do with the climate. Much like real life, the rise of independents, referred to as “the teal independents” and who are mostly women had a significant impact on the 2022 Australian Federal elections (Wahlquist, 2022, para. 3). More familiar to Indigenous peoples is the racism that is targeted at Irving. While making a concerted effort to run a clean campaign, Irving is aggressively targeted with racism and misogyny. In this episode, she checks her mailbox to find a campaign flyer that tells prospective voters that if they are stupid enough to vote for Irving they are voting for more welfare, and more cheating (Behrendt et al., 2021a). The flyer claims Irving will be voted in then go missing drawing on the racist trope of going walkabout which is often levelled at Indigenous peoples in reference to some myth that Aboriginal peoples are unwilling to work and just wander off aimlessly into the outback. The truth is that most of the industry in Australia was built on the unpaid labour and stolen wages of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples (Anthony, 2014; Leroy-Dyer, 2021). The accusations tell prospective voters that Irving will rort taxpayers and spend money on her cousins and family as opposed to authorised expenditure as part of the portfolio (Behrendt et al., 2021a). The implication is that she cannot be trusted with money—all racist stereotypes often levelled at Indigenous peoples.

As the campaign progresses, Irving is harassed by someone using the synonym #Bait15 (Behrendt et al., 2021a). She receives threatening phone calls, messages, and social media posts and particularly harrowing is the reference to her son. Threats targeting Blak women in politics are a tactic some settler men use to taunt and torment. Such violence is usually a response to any perceived power the Indigenous candidate is gaining. In 2018, Thorpe was subject to a similar situation. Thorpe received death threats to her parliamentary email address and another man had left a graphic note at her official office threatening gang rape. Thorpe stated she was scared for her safety and that of her child but was not going to be deterred from doing her job, stating, “the fear is there, but it’s certainly not going to stop me from doing what I’ve always done and that’s speaking about the injustice that continues to occur in my country” (Plummer, 2018, para. 4).

After Irving’s son does not turn up to support her on voting day, Irving becomes increasingly worried (Behrendt et al., 2021b). Arriving home, she is faced with a noose hanging from the tree outside her home. This is an extremely disturbing and emotionally charged scene given the high rates of suicides in Indigenous communities. Not being able to locate her son, Irving’s brother Charlie calls the police. The officer, a White man, is dismissive of Irving and associates her traumatic response as being aggressive and tells her to calm down. The police officer comments that there is no sign of forced entry to Irving’s home and no sign of violence. Irving points to the noose which now sits on the kitchen table and questions if the noose isn’t itself enough of a sign of violence (Behrendt et al., 2021b). Indigenous women are often sceptical about seeking help from police as they themselves are often positioned as the aggressor and at times have been arrested (Jonscher & Barwick, 2022). Indigenous viewers are well acquainted with the trope of the angry Blak woman, used effectively here to reinforce what so many Indigenous women experience daily.

Watego (2018, para. 15) argues that “Black women have long carried the weight of the multiple, intersecting oppressions of race, class and gender, along with the responsibility to make some good from it—for the sake of our children and communality.” This is the weight that Mailman’s character Irving carries as she tries to ensure that she is true to her community and keep her family safe while trying to navigate the settler world of politics which is intrinsically violent towards Indigenous peoples. To completely derail her campaign and feeding off the fact that Irving’s son is still missing, #Bait15 informs Irving; they have buried him alive (Behrendt et al., 2021b). This turns out not to be the case, but the trauma of the information has a significant impact on Irving and her family. For many Aboriginal families the fear of violence against our children is very real. In 2015, 14-year-old Elijah Doherty was run down and killed by a White man (Tomin, 2016). This came after posts on a local Facebook page were promoting violence against Indigenous children and calling for an annual culling. In 2022, Cassius Turvey a 15-year-old was beaten to death on his way home from school by another White man (Bunch, 2023). In 2023, an off-duty police officer was filmed head-butting a 14-year-old Aboriginal child (Hinchliffe, 2023).

#Bait15 turns out to be a political staffer in the prime minister’s office (Behrendt et al., 2021b). Tom Dawson as Henry Whittacker is the face behind the racially motivated and violent online campaign against Irving. Whittacker is a privileged White man who lives at home with his parents. Irving confronts him and it is then that his racist motivations are revealed. Whittacker says, “what do you expect me to say, that I am sorry? That what I did was wrong? That is what you people want is just endless apologies,” and Irving replies that “we are well beyond that” (Behrendt et al., 2021b, 42:00). Whittacker asserts his right to have an opinion and to free speech. Irving insists that Whittacker read out loud the posts that he has made about her and her son and threatens to reveal his identity online if he doesn’t. Reluctantly, he reads the posts, “you are a dirty whore and a terrible mother,” “your son is nothing but a dead dog of a lazy slut and is lucky to be out of his misery and you should kill yourself too” (46:16). Keen to leave it, Whittaker states the point has been made however; Irving makes him continue, “I am going to rape you in front of your son” (46:56). The pair is interrupted when Whittaker’s parents arrive home. To cover up why she is in their home, Irving says she is giving their son career advice as he is passionate about racial equality. The parents look confused. While Irving moves on from the issue, Charlie, seeking some sort of retribution for the harm caused, doxes Whittacker. Doxing refers to publishing personal information about an individual online. This can include phone number, address and other personal information typically with malicious intent (Douglas, 2016).

Season 2 comes to an end when Irving and campaign team arrive at Parliament House (Behrendt et al., 2021c). The struggle for power continues with twists and turns that could result in Wayne Blair’s character Paul Murphy actually becoming the first Aboriginal prime minister. It is all a house of cards that needs to be carefully constructed and like a house of cards is flimsy and at risk of collapse. On the way to vote, Irving and the team are confronted with another racist White supremacist who feels emboldened to commit acts of violence against Irving objecting to Aboriginal peoples holding any form of power in the political arena (Behrendt et al., 2021c). Irving is stabbed in the hand and Charlie in the shoulder. Nothing will stop Irving however; covered in blood, she heads in to have her vote. This is a powerful ending to a fascinating season. At this moment, there is hope for the future.

Conclusion

As I have demonstrated, Total Control mimics Indigenous reality in a way that is deeply understood by Indigenous viewers who are continually subjected to various forms of racism and misogyny. As an Indigenous person, I could clearly see the parallels the series explores and the everyday reality of being Indigenous in so-called Australia. This is particularly the case across digital technologies such as social media (Carlson & Frazer, 2021). As the Referendum draws closer, the instances of violence and abuse directed at Indigenous peoples are increasing to the point where some people are asking whether Australia has the capacity to engage in political debates that involve Indigenous affairs “without descending to racial stereotypes and vitriol” (Lovell, 2023, para. 8). Social media provides a platform where racism and hate speech can fester but it is not the cause. Racism, as I have previously argued, is “a digital chameleon, continuously shifting its appearance to the new environments social media makes possible” (Carlson & Frazer, 2021, p. 71). It is the same for misogyny which exists but is made more ubiquitous by digital technologies (Carlson & Day, 2024). As a series that is clearly aimed at a broad audience, it captures enough racism to appeal to White anti-racists, for Indigenous viewers, Total Control exemplifies our realities as it unsettles them. The series disturbs White preoccupations with power and corruptions and tells a story of how White politics work and what games must be played if Indigenous peoples are to participate. Also, though, it signals a future whereby some of those rules might be changed according to imagined futures.

Australia has never had a situation where our more dominant political parties have been led by women and, certainly, we have never experienced Indigenous politicians who have enough political clout to make any decisions that would wholesalely benefit Indigenous peoples. Once you join a political party, you are expected to tow the line and support the position of the party even if it is not supportive of the majority of Indigenous constituents. The only other choice is to resign from the party as Ken Wyatt chose to do or run as an independent which Lidia Thorpe has now done. A tactic that Irving herself took.

Imagine a scenario where an Aboriginal woman is the prime minister. Or that both dominant political parties are led by anyone other than an old cisgendered heterosexual Christian man. Imagine a government that cared more for the lives of people than the power they hold. Imagine a world in which Indigenous peoples are thriving and are not being subject to ongoing violence such as being incarcerated or killed in custody or having our children removed or our homelands destroyed by mining interest—all themes explored in Total Control. It all begins with “imagining otherwise” as Cherokee scholar Daniel Heath Justice (Tennant, 2020, para. 9) notes. As I have previously asserted (Carlson, 2023a), hope is a strength that drives our determination. This is how we are still here and still fighting. Indigenous Futurisms is a field of scholarship and an active response to the violence of colonialism that guides us to imagine otherwise. It is an act of visioning that plants the seeds of the future which is not yet here.