In central Queensland, where the sun scorches the red soil and the creeks flow quietly through eucalypt scrub, some locations carry names with a deep and dark history. History that carries wounds and the weight of land still reckoning with its past. One name – Black Gin Creek – has ignited a movement. A movement led by First Nations people to return dignity to Country, one creek at a time.
Darumbal Elder Aunty Sally Vea Vea has emerged as a leading voice in the battle to change racist place names across Queensland. Speaking to the ABC last year, she shared the heartbreaking truth behind the creeks, explaining that they mark sites where Aboriginal women were violently assaulted, killed and left behind.
“The term ‘gin’ was once used affectionately in some Aboriginal languages,” Aunty Sally said. However, over time, colonial forces weaponised it, transforming it into a slur against Aboriginal women.
The problem extends beyond language. For Manymiya Obby Bedford, a Bunuba-speaking Miluwindi-clan woman from Fitzroy Crossing in Western Australia, it strikes at the heart of identity and respect. To her, these locations serve as symbols of a nation still struggling to face its colonial past.
“Having places still named ‘Black Gin Creek’ is just misogynistic,” Ms Bedford said. “It makes me angry and disappointed. It reinforces that history is okay. Australia is unwilling to acknowledge the racist past, because it is hurtful and hard to talk about – but that just diminishes the harm in the first place.”
Before European colonisation, over 250 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander languages were spoken across Australia. These languages were used to name everything from rivers to mountains, reflecting First Nations peoples’ deep connection to the land, rich knowledge of nature and spiritual beliefs. Colonisation saw these names erased or replaced with those of settlers, politicians or European landmarks.
A 1951 article from The Longreach Leader highlights a public reminder to use the full name ‘Black Gin Creek’ rather than simply ‘Gin Creek’. This notice came nearly 50 years after the end of Australia’s colonial period, underlining how cultural appropriation and the normalisation of offensive place names can persist over time.
Today, there is growing momentum to reclaim and revive traditional names. A Department of Resources spokesperson said while they do not “set reconciliation policy”, the Queensland Government requires that place names must not be racist, derogatory or offensive. However, not all names in the state’s place name database are verified by the appropriate First Nations groups. This leaves room for continued harm and misrepresentation.
A 2022 newsletter from the Australian National Placenames Survey reported that, as of 2021, there were still 26 locations across Australia named Black Gin Creek. Sixteen of them were in Queensland.
aming locations in Queensland has always been political. Before the state’s separation from New South Wales in 1859, the naming of places was left largely to the Surveyor General and local settlers. In 1828, Major Sir Thomas Mitchell ordered surveyors to record Indigenous names where possible, though these were frequently simplified or altered to fit English speaking tongues.
After 1859, departments like Railways, the Post Office, and Public Instruction proposed names, which were then signed off by the Department of Lands. By the 1920s, an informal committee, including Professor Cumbrae-Stewart from the University of Queensland, was tasked with formalising place names. Recordkeeping evolved from handwritten index cards to a computer database in 1988.
Place names hold more than just geographic significance. They carry deeper stories that reflect cultural and historical contexts. As seen with the naming of ‘Black Gin Creek’ throughout Australia, these sites embody historical wounds tied to colonialism and power. These creeks have become scarring landmarks for communities to remember, making it far more than just a simple act of mapping out a country.
The movement to rename these places is steadily gaining traction, with more patrons like Aunty Sally advocating for the restoration of dignity and cultural respect. For people like Ms Bedford, the removal of derogatory names like ‘Black Gin Creek’ is more than a symbolic gesture. It is a vital part of healing. “There is so much intergenerational trauma but no resources to help,” she said. “I think the Australian Government has an obligation to help with therapy.”
Besides being an artist and community activist, Ms Bedford is also a vocal advocate for mental health in the Indigenous community. She was recently involved in the making of ‘Lifeblood’, a documentary showcasing the rich cultural heritage of the mighty Martuwarra Fitzroy River. With deep ties to her Bunuba heritage and ancestral lands, she said cultural healing involves more than just changing names – it’s about restoring a sense of belonging, pride and dignity to communities that have long been marginalised.
“Cultural healing looks like changing the education system,” Ms Bedford said. “Teach the younger generations our languages. Tell the real history.” Her call for an overhaul of the Australian education system, one that incorporates Indigenous perspectives and language, would help ensure future generations grow up with a richer understanding of the land’s true history.
In Fitzroy Crossing, Ms Bedford witnessed how a fractured cultural identity could lead to deep pain and anger. After leaving for school, she made the conscious decision to return home – not just to live there again, but to reconnect with her roots. Now back in her community, she is committed to learning her language and culture properly.
The pain that lingers from these place names is more than historical. It reverberates through the lives of contemporary First Nations people. Ms Bedford is not interested in hollow comfort. “I don’t care about silver linings, especially when there are none,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. “These names make it clear that we’re still not respected.”
Yet, resistance grows. Aunty Sally continues to lead. She, along with other community members and allies, has successfully led the renaming of multiple places from ‘Black Gin Creek’ to Watyakan Creek near Longreach, and Gum Tree Creek Road and Dundula Creek near Rockhampton. But her work is far from done. “I would like to see the traditional owners [in other areas] say, ‘look, Darumbal’s done it, we can do it too’,” she told the ABC in 2020.
In contrast to recent renaming efforts, not all local councils have supported change. In 2023, the Burdekin Shire Council declined a proposal to rename “Yellow Gin Creek”, despite concerns that the name could be linked to violence against Indigenous women. Burdekin Shire Mayor Pierina Dalle Cort said a community poll revealed 92 per cent of respondents were in favour of keeping the existing name.
It is evident that the Queensland’s Department of Resources has made efforts to address concerns around offensive place names. However, the continued presence of these site names can serve as reminders of unresolved historical issues.
As the controversial debate about derogatory place names continues, Aunty Sally and Ms Bedford remain hopeful. Renaming locations associated with Australia’s colonial past is increasingly recognised as one way to support broader national conversations about cultural inclusion, historical recognition and respect for First Nations communities.
“It’s not enough to say we care,” Ms Bedford said. “We need action. We need healing. Love and pride for Country needs to be there first. And that starts with listening to us – really listening.”
Through these acts of reclamation, the journey toward a shared understanding of Australia’s past – and its future – can flow. Just like the creeks always have.
