The Privilege of Being Invited In
This week, Harvey’s school celebrated NAIDOC Week.
The official week had passed because of the school holidays, but perhaps that’s what made the celebration feel even more intentional. It wasn’t about ticking a calendar event. It was about creating a moment for an entire community to come together.
As I walked through the school gates, Uncle Lann welcomed families with a smoking ceremony. Children gathered around displays of traditional tools, asking questions with genuine curiosity. Large chalk artworks stretched across the pathways, waiting for little hands to bring them to life with colour. More than a thousand students, parents and teachers gathered together for assembly, listening to stories, songs and culture being shared with respect and generosity.
Standing there, I realised something.
It was the first time I had witnessed such a joyful celebration of First Nations culture within a non-Indigenous community here on the Gold Coast.
It wasn’t performative.
It wasn’t political.
It was simply people learning together.
And it was beautiful.
That moment stayed with me because over the past few years I’ve been fortunate enough to spend time in remote and regional communities through my work. Those experiences have changed not only how I see my work, but how I see leadership, relationships and community itself.
I am not First Nations.
I cannot speak for First Nations people or their lived experiences.
What I can speak about is the privilege of being welcomed into spaces where I have been able to listen, learn and witness extraordinary people doing extraordinary things.
Some of the strongest leaders I’ve met aren’t on conference stages.
They are coaches giving their evenings to young people.
They are Elders passing knowledge to the next generation.
They are women building businesses that strengthen their communities.
They are fathers, mothers, artists, educators and volunteers quietly creating opportunities where others might only see challenges.
Yet so much of this work happens without recognition.
When people talk about First Nations communities, the stories that receive attention are often the hardest ones. Those conversations matter, but they are not the whole story.
There is also innovation.
There is entrepreneurship.
There is resilience.
There is humour.
There is generosity.
There is an extraordinary commitment to community that I believe all Australians can learn from.
One of the greatest lessons these experiences have given me is that community isn’t simply a place.
It’s a way of showing up.
It’s checking in on people.
It’s making sure everyone has a seat at the table.
It’s celebrating each other’s wins.
It’s understanding that success means very little if it isn’t shared.
As a business owner, these experiences have shaped how I choose the work I do.
I no longer ask only whether a project is commercially viable.
I ask whether it contributes something meaningful.
Will it strengthen people?
Will it create opportunity?
Will it help tell stories that deserve to be heard?
Because the projects that stay with me are never the ones with the biggest budgets.
They’re the ones where people genuinely care about creating something that leaves a positive impact long after the project is finished.
Watching Harvey and hundreds of other children embrace culture with open minds reminded me why these moments matter.
Children don’t arrive carrying stereotypes.
They arrive with curiosity.
They ask questions.
They listen.
They learn.
Perhaps that’s something all of us could do a little more often.
I will never fully understand what it means to walk through the world as a First Nations person.
But I will always be grateful for every opportunity I’ve been given to walk alongside communities, to listen more than I speak, and to continue learning.
Those experiences have made me a better business owner.
A better storyteller.
A better parent.
And, I hope, a better ally.
Sometimes the greatest privilege isn’t having all the answers.
It’s simply being invited in.
Kadee
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