“Fighting the fight”

“Never surrender… always hold on”By: Gabrielle Carlos

I take a walk through the streets of Sydney, the dust of the ground and the noise covers the whole community. No one rests. No one.Horses to and from. This country is new to

me. The buildings, the transport and the way the “white men” dressed. As if they were

superior then us.

My name is Hwong Li and I am one of the Chinese people that migrated to Australia to find a better “life”. I do want to stay here but

the way they treat us… Like rubbish.

I don’t want this. Not for my children. I thought finding a family here in Australia was going to be easy. I thought wrong. We are not allowed to even take a Australian lady to dinner. We

were brought here to work.

The way they built their mechanics. It is so different to what I grew up with. Which makes

working even harder. I need to learn, work and be treated unfairly at the same time. It

doesn’t seem right. There are also non-Chinese men and women that was brought here to work. And I want to stand up for us. For every migrants that are unfairly treated.

I know I am a good novelist. I would write stories just to keep my little brothers and

sisters entertained. But because my family were poor, we couldn’t afford school for me to improve my writing. I want to stop this racial discrimination but I don’t want to wage war against the white men. They have far too much people here and I don’t believe in

violence.

Maybe? I asked myself whilst I sit on my workbench. Maybe I could write novels to

stop this discrimination? I’m going to try. For the sake of all the immigrants. I gather all the equipment needed: paper, ink, pen and my

mind. I think I’m crazy risking my life for people I don’t know.

Alright. I’m about to start. All I need now is inspiration. I take my two weak legs and took

a long look at the streets of Sydney. The suffering and agony of all those immigrants go through. I know what they feel. So I sit back to my workbench, anxious to start a

revolution.

I slowly lift up the pen and dunk it into the ink jar. In the time, the consequences of my actions ran through my head like a horse

running for its life. I hesitated, “I got to get my acts together. This is for the greater good.” I told myself as I let the tip of the pen and the piece of paper make contact. I start writing…

And writing…

“BOOM!” the door cracked open whilst I was in the middle of my novel. I shove my novel into my pants. It was the sheriff. Someone has snitched on my plans. They take me

away, leaving my necessities behind. “Where your going, you don’t need them,” the sheriff said as he left the room laughing. A sudden rush of adrenalin pumped through my body.

My heart pounding a hundred beats per minute. But I was determined. Determined to

change the way immigrants are looked at.

They throw me into a cell. Dirtier then the streets of Sydney. The white men are scared

what I can do with my novel. I can fell it. Because they would know that everything

would turn into a riot if my novel goes to the public. This motivated me to continue my novel… Continue my fight for the cause…

Finally, I finish my novel, I didn’t tell anyone that I was called to a death sentence. I’m going to release this novel. My job in this

world is done. Its their turn, They will win this fight. I have faith in them.

So as I take my final steps to the shooting range. I’m not scared. Not anymore.

“TARGET… FIRE !” the captain shouted enthusiastically. “Touch me not…”

THE END

By Gabrielle CarlosParramatta Marist

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