COEDIE MCAVOY FIGHTS FOR COUNTRY AND CULTURE THROUGH MUSIC AND ACTION
Coedie McAvoy, a proud member of the Central Queensland Wangan and Jagalingou people, is at the heart of a powerful movement that blends cultural preservation with a clear stance against destructive mining practices.
Coedie’s connection to his land, his people, and his music defines much of his work, both as an artist and as an advocate.
As he describes it, “I’ve put country first before anything,” and his commitment to protecting his ancestral lands is reflected in the battles he faces.
The destruction of his people's land due to mining activities has driven Coedie to fight for the preservation of ancient trees and sacred sites, particularly around Doongmabulla Springs, in central Queensland.
Coedie’s journey to activism is deeply personal. It began with his own experiences in the coal mining industry between 2007 and 2011, where he witnessed the destruction of country firsthand. "I spent enough time in coal mines... I’ve seen the destruction for myself," he says.
His refusal to accept the easy path of corporate deals, which he believes have only ever benefited mining companies and left communities behind, has made him a vocal critic of how land is exploited. He and his family have been fighting to stop the opening of new mines, despite facing immense pressure.
The mining company, which offered a deal with his people in 2012, has been repeatedly rejected, and his family occupied a part of the mining lease to demonstrate their resistance, "we lit a fire and there's been a fire there ever since."
At the core of his activism is his relationship to his culture. Coedie regularly plays the Yidaki (didgeridoo), both as a solo artist and in collaboration with others like David Grace.
His music, which he often refers to as "Bush music," carries a message of connection to the land and the need to protect it. “It’s about sending a message,” he says, highlighting the shared values of many artists he collaborates with.
His performances, like those at the Opera House or in protest settings, are driven by the belief that the land needs a voice, especially when corporations and governments fail to listen. “I'm doing it to save old growth trees... nobody else is going to fight for them,” he states with unwavering determination.
Coedie’s activism is grounded in a deep sense of responsibility. He and his family are not just fighting for the present but also for future generations. As he explains, “We've started to put our children’s placentas back into the trees... so they can't take that connection away from that child.”
This practice, which links the next generation to their ancestral land, is part of Coedie’s larger vision of creating a space for cultural revival.
He points out that the introduction of Queensland’s Human Rights Act in 2019 finally gave his family a legal platform to assert their rights. The fire that burns on his land is more than a symbol; it is a declaration of continuous occupation, a refusal to be removed.
Despite the immense challenges, Coedie remains steadfast in his principles. “I’ll give up my life to stand in your way and say, 'No. You can’t have it.’”
His defiance isn't driven by personal gain, but by a deep commitment to his people and their culture. “Money can't trump human rights,” he asserts. Coedie believes that the fight for his country is not just his but a collective struggle.
He continues to gather support through grassroots efforts, sharing updates with his growing network of thousands. His message is clear: standing up for the land is not just about opposing the mining industry, it’s about fighting for the rights of the future.