As a teenager in Sydney, the would-be Wimbledon champion was working towards a singular goal when an act of racism shattered her naivety
It was a regular match. Until it wasn’t. In 1969, I was 17 and had been living in Sydney with my tennis coach, Vic Edwards, and his family for several years. I had left my home town of Barellan – on Wirajudjuri country in the Riverina region of New South Wales – to pursue my tennis dreams in the big smoke.
The year before, I had finished high school at Willoughby girls high – where I was the only Aboriginal student – and I was doing my secretarial course in the city. The Metropolitan Business College where I studied was conveniently located near the headquarters of the Foundation for Aboriginal Affairs.
