Deborah’s mother gave birth to nine children. Six of them were taken

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Deborah Cheetham Fraillon. The Yorta Yorta/Yuin soprano, composer and professor, 61, is the founder and artistic director of Short Black Opera. She is an Officer of the Order of Australia.

POLITICS

You have so many different identities: soprano, composer, lesbian, Yorta Yorta woman, stolen generations member  … Yes, my short bio is, “Yorta Yorta by birth, stolen generation by government policy, composer by necessity, soprano by diligence … and lesbian by practice.” [Laughs] I got to the point where I wanted to distil it to just a few words. What is the essence of who I am? Where do I come from? For a long time I knew that I was connected to Yorta-Yorta country, even though I was stolen generation, but I hadn’t experienced it. That didn’t happen until my early 40s.

What happened? I was about to write my first opera, Pecan Summer. I moved down to Melbourne and connected with Boon Wurrung elder Aunty Carolyn Briggs. When I told her I wanted to write an opera, she had a bit of a laugh and said, “You need to head up home to Yorta-Yorta country. You need to find out about your family’s history.” There, I met with Aunty Frances Mathyssen, who told me that my family had been part of the story I was about to put into an opera. At the end of that initial meeting, she said, “We love you. I love you. And we knew you’d come home.”

Is there a unifying mission statement that connects all of your projects? The journey from not knowing to knowing is important. But the journey from knowing to understanding is the only thing that will make any difference. It’s the journey I have been on my entire life and it informs everything I do.

DEATH

What have been the biggest losses you’ve experienced? The biggest loss happened when I was just three weeks old. I lost the chance to know my Aboriginal mother, Monica, when I was taken from her. My adopted parents were loving and generous people, but the one thing they could not provide for me was my true identity. When I lost my adopted mother in November 2000, the grief was intense – and fuelled by the complexities in our relationship. When I lost my Aboriginal mother, two weeks before Pecan Summer premiered in 2010, I experienced a numb, confusing kind of grief. Monica’s funeral was devastating … I’m going to cry. Monica gave birth to nine children and six of us were taken. At the funeral, my eldest brother, Anthony, stood up to speak and said, “I have so few memories that I can share with you of my time with Monica.” My brother’s eulogy brought me undone because he couldn’t say the things a son would want to say about his mother because he couldn’t recall them.

Oh, that’s devastating. It was. But my Uncle Jimmy [Little, a fellow musician], was still alive at that time; he was such a wise and gentle man. His eulogy was magnificent. He spoke about his sister, her life, her beautiful voice, the love she felt for her children and her grief for those who had been taken. I learnt so much about my family, and myself, on that day.

If you were to die today, what would you be most proud of? I’m really proud of the three children I helped to raise [in a previous relationship]. They’re all amazing human beings. And I’m incredibly proud of Short Black Opera and everything it does to create development opportunities and pathways for First Nations musicians who want to connect with classical music.

Is there any unfinished business? On the evening of October 14, 2023, I was about to give a performance of Eumeralla, a War Requiem for Peace. As I walked onto the stage, I knew already that the Voice to Parliament was lost. It was the most emotionally demanding performance I’ve ever had to give. In the weeks and months after that crushing result, I felt gutted. Whatever I had contributed hadn’t been enough to help enough people understand why it is vital for the health of our society to give First Nations people agency. That’s my unfinished business.

Do you have a playlist for your funeral? There’ll be Beethoven, one of my favourite composers: the “Emperor” piano concerto slow movement. I would love something from Eumaralla to be sung: it’s a requiem, after all. And I would want the Dhungala Children’s Choir [formed in 2008 by Cheetham Fraillon] to sing Birrama Mana. The chorus is in the language of my ancestors. Translated into English, it means, “The sun upon the river red gums in the afternoon is so beautiful / The magpie and the crow are heading home to the nest.”

SEX

We’re finishing with sex. [Laughs] Fantastic!

You’ve already mentioned you’re a self-declared “lesbian by practice” …Yes, I’m a career lesbian. Long before I had a word to describe my feelings, I knew I was attracted to the same sex. Which was problematic as a child who grew up in a strict Baptist family!

And Baptists can be hardcore. Indeed!

Do you have a type? My most significant relationships have been with musicians and artists.

In 2022, the public discovered you were dating your now-wife, Nicolette Fraillon [the conductor]. Yes, I inadvertently announced our engagement on Q&A. The only problem was, we hadn’t yet told our families. It had been a whirlwind romance.