André Dao

Nuclear Waste at Muckaty

This article was first published in The Monthly. Buy it here.

About halfway between Tennant Creek and Muckaty Station in the Northern Territory, Michael Williams signals for us to pull over for a toilet break. He directs me to a spot by the Stuart Highway where a squat brick memorial commemorates the northernmost point of an expedition led by John McDouall Stuart in 1860 to find the centre of the continent. “A lot of massacres around in this country,” Williams says. “Some fellas got shot, some whitefella got speared. Named the highway after him.” He reads aloud from the memorial’s plaque. “‘Hostile natives and illness forced the party to return.’ See that there? We’re hostile.” He laughs and we get back in the car. Read the rest of this entry »


What’s mine is yours

Originally published in issue 22 of The Lifted Brow. Buy it here.

I don’t know how to think about these things…[1]

On the one hand, I am distinct from you. I am distinct from my father and I am distinct from my children, were I ever to have any. My existence is discrete, bookended by a birth and a death. I am hermetically sealed from the outside world by my skin, by which I recognise myself in the mirror: an individual, a subject, not you or him or her or it but me. I am the bearer of rights and the holder of tastes. I assert my human right to self-expression. Read the rest of this entry »