Reviving Indigenous language through research, education, and connection

In conversation with Corina Norman

Marking its 50th year, the 2025 NAIDOC Week theme, 'The Next Generation: Strength, Vision & Legacy', celebrates the bright future of Indigenous culture, guided by the strength of young leaders, the vision of communities, and the enduring legacy of ancestors through truth telling. Connecting identity, knowledge, and community across generations, the preservation and education of Indigenous languages is central to this mission.

For NAIDOC week, Sheldon sat down with Corina Wayali Norman, a Dharug/Dharawal woman, friend of Sheldon, and recipient of the Sheldon Indigenous Research Scholarship,  whose work seeks to revitalise the Dharug dhalang, educating the language through community and school-based initiatives. We discussed her background and work, as well as language’s role in sharing Country, truth telling, and allowing us to effectively communicate the world around us.

Warimi Corina. Could you please tell us a little about the Country you're from, and how you initially became involved with your work preserving and educating on Indigenous language?

“I belong to the Dharug and Dharawal language groups, and I descend from multiple clans across Sydney. These connections come through my Guri grandparents on my father’s side, whose knowledge and roots tie me to this Ngurra.

Although I was born in Aotearoa, my grandmother would always say to me, “You’re not just Māori, you come from the biggest mobs in Sydney.” That stayed with me. My Māori whakapapa comes through my mother’s side, and I honour both. I’ve been predominantly learning and teaching Dharug dhalang, the language of my Country where I live, work, and raise my children. Alongside Dharug, I also compare and reflect on Dharawal, listening to the ways these sister languages connect through Country, story, and kin.

Language work began for me as a return to identity, to belonging, and to the responsibilities that come with being a cultural woman and teacher. I didn’t grow up speaking Dharug, but I always knew it was part of me. When I became a mother and educator, I felt that deep calling to not only reclaim my languages but to embed it into everyday life for my children, my communities, cultural obligations and for Country. Language, for me, is more than words. It’s how we walk in the world. I carry the weight of the language as a deep responsibility, not just to research or revitalise it, but to live it. My work began with simple words and songs, and it has evolved into a lifelong journey of returning to Ngurra, to identity, and to the knowledge systems held in our language.”

How has your experience been of studying your Australian Indigenous Languages at the University of Sydney and Western Sydney University and working with the faculties there?

“Studying the Master of Indigenous Languages Education (MILE) at the University of Sydney in 2019 provided me with a strong foundation in language teaching and cultural frameworks. However, it was my Master of Research at Western Sydney University (supported by the Sheldon Indigenous Research Scholarship) that enabled me to explore deeper questions about language reclamation, renewal and revival, who speaks for Country, and what it truly means to walk between two worlds while carrying the cultural responsibility, creating space for the PhD journey I’m now on.

At the same time, it’s essential to acknowledge the genuine emotional and cultural costs of language revival. Much of the work we do is unseen. The hours spent cross-checking sources, listening to and engaging with Elders, responding to community needs, and navigating language and cultural protocols.

Reviving language is beautiful, but it’s not an easy task. It requires humility, resilience, and a deep sense of cultural obligation. My studies at WSU gave me not just the tools but also the space to reflect on those complexities and to keep walking forward, grounded in purpose, even when the work is heavy.”

Recently, what have been some of the language projects and initiatives that you have been involved in?

“Together with Dharug woman Jasmine Seymour, including our Bayala Dharug and allies team, we currently teach Dharug across more than 28 schools, from knder, through to high school and are developing a three-year language and cultural learning cycle from K–12. This work connects students to Ngurra through themes like introducing yourself, kinship, belonging, seasons, plants and food. Our scope and sequence are aligned with the NSW Aboriginal Languages syllabus, supported by culturally embedded activities that centre Dharug perspectives.

Most recently, I have been supporting the revitalisation of Dharug dhalang through both community and school-based initiatives. One of our biggest milestones has been the development and launch of the Bayala Dharug App, which provides accessible language learning for everyday use.

I’ve also been working on a children’s book project that brings together words from multiple First Nations languages across the continent. I am currently working on a Phd which explores Ngurra guardianship, language, and cultural knowledge as systems of governance, connecting with my role in caring -as-Country. I also mentor  young people through programs like the Junior Shadow Rangers, where we guide students in learning to care for Country through language, ecological knowledge, and cultural responsibility.

At the heart of all of this is the understanding that language is not separate from life. It holds memory, place, and possibility.”

What have been some of the challenges educating people on the Dharug language in your work?

“One of the biggest challenges is that people often don’t understand what language revival really involves. Dharug is an ignited language, reawakening after disruption, so we don’t have fluent speakers to pass it on in the traditional way. Instead, we build language from the ground up, through sound, repetition, patterns, words and phrases. It’s slow, deep work, and not everyone sees or understands the labour behind it.

There’s also a misunderstanding around fluency. If someone hears a Welcome to Country or a few sentences in Dharug, they might assume the speaker is fluent. But in revitalisation contexts, fluency is relational and layered. We’re walking back into our language while holding grief, resilience, and responsibility. This is why language awareness is so important because it helps break down assumptions and opens learning pathways grounded in care.

I was fortunate to learn Te Reo Māori in school and as a young mother. Being immersed in a living language, with fluent speakers and intergenerational transmission, gave me a very different learning experience. With Māori, I could hear the full rhythm of the language around me, in the home, at the marae, in kōhanga reo. With Dharug, we are reviving a disrupted language, building it back carefully, and that is the difference.

Another layer of challenge is deciding on how we write the language. Dharug was traditionally oral, but today we live in two worlds. To teach our children, create resources, and pass on language across generations, we need to develop a shared orthography, a respectful and consistent way to represent our sounds. This can be contentious, because spelling choices carry weight, especially when people feel protective over different versions. But we’re not trying to fix language. We’re trying to keep it strong and usable, so it can live again in homes, schools, and community. We need to create something that helps us all beat the same rhythm, even as we come with different voices.

There have been some community feel that we shouldn’t use certain words because they’re sacred, but context matters. What’s sacred in one space may be part of everyday language in another. That’s why it’s essential to approach revival with cultural awareness and purpose, rather than fear. Language needs to live again in all parts of our lives, not just on the page or in performance, but in cooking, parenting, walking, singing, and sitting on Country.

There’s a growing idea that the only proper way to learn your language is on Country, and while being on Country is powerful, limiting it to only one context can become a barrier, not a doorway. For many of us, being on our homelands isn’t always possible. We have been displaced because of colonisation, by removals, by housing, poverty, grief and by generations of systematic exclusion.

To say that language can only be learned on Country denies the strength of those who are keeping the language alive wherever they are. Every space where language is spoken is a cultural space. A school, a kitchen table, a Zoom call, or a weaving circle. What matters is the love, the intention, and the responsibility we carry. language comes from Country but it lives in us too and when we speak it with care, wherever we are, we bring Country with us.

Finally, the emotional toll of revival work is real. Lateral violence, identity politics and community tensions can be exhausting, especially when the very people you’re doing this work for are unsure whether to support you. But despite all this, the work continues. Because our language matters. And it deserves to live again, spoken with strength, love, and respect.”

What can we all do to learn about Dharug language, and the languages of the Country we live on?

“Begin by learning whose Country you are on. That’s the first step, knowing the name of the Traditional Custodians, understanding their continuing connection to the Country and recognising that language is held in the place itself. Every part of Country carries a name, a rhythm, and a story that has been spoken.

Learning a few words is a beautiful way to start, but even more powerful is understanding the cultural knowledge behind those words. Language is weaved into how and why we speak. The words we use at home, on Country, and in ceremony each carry different responsibilities. Everyone who lives on this Ngurra (Country) has the opportunity to walk with respect alongside the languages of place. When non-Indigenous allies learn with patience and purpose, it becomes an act of solidarity and a shared sense of belonging. It shows care not only for language, but for the people who carry it.

One of the most powerful things for me is hearing children speak Dharug, whether in the classroom, on the playground, or just naturally at home. It shows that the language is alive again, not in isolation, but as part of how we perceive, communicate, and navigate through the world.”

You have previously discussed Dharug language as the language of ‘Country first’. Could you please expand on what that means?

“When I say Dharug dhalang is the language of ‘Country first’, I mean that the language comes from Ngurra (Country) from the land itself. It’s not something created in isolation.  It comes from the deep relationships between the people, the land, the waterways, the animals, the plants and the seasons.

Language of place should be respected and learned by all people who live on that Country. When people travel overseas, one of the first things they think about is how to communicate in the local language. They search for key phrases, greetings, polite ways to ask for help because it’s understood that language is part of how you show care and cultural respect. Here in Australia, that same thinking often doesn’t apply, because English is the dominant language. There’s no expectation to learn the First Languages of place, even though every part of this continent has multiple languages, stories  and names that existed long before colonisation.

Learning language isn’t just about words, it’s about entering a respectful relationship with where you live. Language lives in us, in our families, in how we greet each other, how we raise our children and how we share knowledge across generations. I firmly believe that Dharug dhalang is meant to be lived, spoken in schools, at home, in the car, at the shops, and in everyday life. Our Ancestors spoke this language in all parts of their lives, not just for the sacred, but for the practical. To cook, to joke, to teach, to call out across camp. Speaking language is a way of reconnecting to Country, yes, but also to culture, family, and identity. It’s not about restricting it to one space, it’s about bringing it back into all spaces where we live and breathe as Dharug people and those walking respectfully alongside us.”

Meeting room names are a great way to integrate local Indigenous languages into the workplace.

We are extremely thankful to Corina for taking the time to share her story and work. At Sheldon, we are honoured to work alongside Indigenous communities in supporting cultural immersion through language, participation, and connection to Country, whether this be through our projects, operations, or the Sheldon Foundation.