A Pool Built on Loss: The Enduring Legacy of the Cronulla Riots
Twenty years after a wave of racial violence swept through Cronulla Beach, the scars remain deeply etched in the lives of many Australians. For the Mansour family, the December 11, 2005, riots weren’t just a news event; they fundamentally altered their sense of belonging and safety in Australia, leading one father to build a backyard pool as a sanctuary for his children.
The events of that day, sparked by a text message urging “Aussies” to engage in “Leb and wog bashing,” saw approximately 5,000 people descend on North Cronulla beach. The violence that followed left a lasting impact, particularly on families like the Mansours, who were forced to confront painful questions about identity and acceptance.
From Lebanon to Australia: A Search for Safety
Issam Mansour, now 62, arrived in Australia in 1988, seeking refuge from the brutal Lebanese Civil War. Having experienced the horrors of conflict as a teenager – he was 12 when the war began in 1975 – he valued the safety and peace Australia offered. “I had my opportunity to leave that country because I don’t belong to the war,” Mansour explained. “This is why value of a human to me is very important. I see children and women and older and young people die.”
The sense of security he found in Australia was initially profound, a stark contrast to the turmoil he had left behind. He and his family established a life, and his eldest daughter, Sara, now 32, recalls fond childhood memories of regular trips to Cronulla Beach. “We have very fond memories in our childhood of going to Cronulla every week and jumping into the high waves,” she said.
A Turning Point: The Riots and Their Aftermath
The Cronulla riots shattered that sense of security. The Mansour family watched in disbelief as images of mobs attacking people who appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent flooded television screens. “It really dawned on me that was a place that was not for us anymore, there was a sense of anger and frustration,” Sara recalled.
The family, who lived near Punchbowl Park at the time, witnessed the fear and distress ripple through their community in the days following the riots. Members of the local community gathered in the park, seeking reassurance and discussing their safety. The Mansours, like many others, retreated into the perceived safety of their neighborhood. “It made us go out less and it made us more insular,” Sara noted.
A Symbolic Act of Protection
In the wake of the riots, Issam Mansour made a poignant decision: he built a swimming pool in the backyard of his Punchbowl home. His motivation was simple, yet deeply symbolic. “I did it to protect them,” he said, referring to his children. He wanted to ensure they had a safe place to swim and enjoy the summer months without having to venture to Cronulla, a place now associated with fear and hostility.
Reclaiming Identity in the Face of Prejudice
The riots also prompted Sara to grapple with her identity. Shortly before the events, the family had returned from a visit to Lebanon, where they were perceived as Australian. However, the riots forced her to confront the reality that she was not universally accepted as Australian at home. In a powerful act of defiance, Sara wrote “wog for life” on her arm at school and soon after began wearing the hijab. “I think for me it was almost like a defiance and it was a sense of reclaiming my agency and controlling my identity and my body,” she explained.
Ongoing Concerns and a Lingering Pain
Despite initiatives by the Sutherland Shire Council, such as the Surf Brothers program aimed at teaching surf lifesaving skills to young people from migrant backgrounds, neither Issam nor Sara has returned to Cronulla since 2005. “I just can’t go,” Sara stated simply.
Race Discrimination Commissioner Giridharan Sivaraman has warned that the conditions that fueled the Cronulla riots remain present today. “All of the ingredients that were there at the time of the Cronulla Riots twenty years ago are here now today,” he told SBS News. Sara echoed this sentiment, emphasizing that the underlying narratives that drove the violence have not been adequately addressed. “It’s about acknowledging there was a big injustice that was done on that day in Cronulla, and it didn’t just come down to the people,” she said. “It came down to the machine that was feeding that narrative. And that machine has not stopped.”
Issam Mansour and his family, like countless others, simply desire to live peacefully. “I’m Australian. My family is Australian,” Issam affirmed. “We don’t war, because we’ve been through war. We don’t want to hate, because we’ve been through that.” Their story serves as a stark reminder of the enduring consequences of prejudice and the ongoing need for genuine inclusivity and understanding in Australia.
