An unaware Aunty Zona was only 14-years old when the bus rolled into town.

“Growing up in the mission, I didn’t know much of what was happening in the outside world. When the bus came, the students rounded up a crowd of kids and asked if I wanted to go to the pool.”

Charles Perkins was one of the many social activists that sat on the bus. The troupe of University of Sydney students had intended to draw attention to racism and the attendant, poor state of health, education and housing in the Aboriginal community through the ride. Their mission at Moree was simple: gather a handful of children and storm the local pool, finally granting Aboriginal people access to the segregated facility. 

While courage followed these brave few who dared challenge a dated system, for Zona the reality of what she was doing on sunk in when the bus pulled up to the pool.

”It was loud and noisy. There were a lot of angry people waiting for us,” she said.

A large mob of angry protesters hid behind a wall of placards, hurling abuse and threats at the children.

“I asked myself how those people could have been angry, when they hadn’t even met us. When you form an opinion of someone, you have to know them: these people didn’t know me,” said Zona.

”It was as if they were scared that if the Aboriginal people went into the water, the colour of their skin would run into the pool.”

Zona admitted it was the support of the activists and other children that carried her through the rabble.

“Once we made it to the pool, we didn’t think we were making history. We just thought it was hot and we’d like a swim.”

Today, Zona considers the childhood experience one of many personal victories in her fight for equality.

“Aboriginal people were treated as second class citizens at the time because of the colour of their skin. My parents and grandparents were decent people, only nobody saw them that way.”

Case in point: Zona was at the greyhound races with her parents. Her father wanted to place a bet on a race, but racial laws prevented Aboriginal people from taking part.

“He gave a white man his money and asked him to put it down on a dog. We won, but we never saw the money,” said Zona.

For Zona and other members of the Aboriginal community, life didn’t revolve much further beyond the missions.

“Growing up on the mission was a time when we had nothing, but everything. There was self-respect, love and value in our families,” she said.

Zona attended a school for only Aboriginal children where the lessons were structured around white education.

“We didn’t learn our language, but English and we were taught their values.”

But in the darkness, Zona saw a shard of opportunity.

“I wanted to get my education. I wanted to know what the teachers were telling us. I knew that the only way there would be a level playing field, was if I studied. I needed it so bad, I could taste it.”

Zona credits her grandmother for planting the seed of strength in her.

“I had the advantage that my grandmother was white. She was allowed to walk around the places in town where we couldn’t go, and she constantly visited the missions, helping us. She gave my parents jobs when she worked at the hospital.”

It’s a sense of integrity that has endured the years and remains one of Zona’s key qualities. Zona doesn’t owe the world anything, after it spent most of her life trying to put her down. Even so, the strong woman has managed to finish on top, keeping a place in her heart for everyone.

“When I think back to the day at the pool, I remember the people with the placards. I’m sure some of them were scared just like me; maybe somebody else put the placard in their hands and told them this is what they had to do. I know those people working at the pool might have refused us entry, but they were just following the orders from their supervisors.”

She has also made a habit of picking out the smaller victories in her life, saying they’ve had the biggest impact.

“I’ve got non-Aboriginal friends I’ve kept for more than 60 years. As children, we fought to go over to white people’s houses to play.”

Today, she sees how far Moree has come from its dark past.

“We’ve got a good mayor, someone who wants the best for everyone. She sees room for prosperity and employment opportunities for everyone.”