Page173 - Week 01 - Thursday, 3 December 2020
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I left school before completing my year 12 certificate not because I do not value education; far from it. I left school before completing year 12 because my life experiences to that point led me to desperately seek economic security—security which working-class and lower-middle-class people are always seeking. The so-called “poor man’s mentality” led me straight into the workforce to avoid the debt that currently comes with higher education and precludes a significant number of our community from those opportunities.
I got through school by taking up a range of part-time jobs. I worked late at night at the Hyperdome, cleaning out the cinnamon doughnut machine at Donut King. I worked in retail and hospitality. I even delivered pizzas in my 1979 Holden Barina with the ding in the side.
I got into real estate because it was an industry that seemed tailor-made for my skill sets—a hard worker who loves working with people, someone who loves to be of service, combined with a naturally competitive nature to win and succeed. When I entered the real estate industry I was just 16 years old; I was experiencing homelessness and I was living off Newstart, until that elusive first commission cheque would come in. It took a few years. I saw little prospect for myself in school that would not trap me in a cycle of poverty. Real estate gave me an opportunity to break through and support not only myself but, more importantly to me at that time, the people that I cared about, in a real and meaningful way.
You can never have too much money when you are raised working class. I can empathise with the mindset of being one pay cheque, one tough decision, one crisis away from the kind of poverty that leads to every subsequent decision being one that is made from fear.
Politics took an interest in me a few years later, when I came out openly as gay. While I am a product of a much more socially progressive and open-minded generation, there were at that time, and still are today, barriers in the way of my full equality and the full equality of those that I know and love.
I was acutely aware of the discrimination and prejudice that I may face in my later years when I came out to my dad, who said, “I love you, but I am just so worried for you.” It bears noting at this point that my dad is my best friend, and he joins us in the gallery today. But the genuine fear and concern that he felt for how different my life would be and for my welfare was yet another poignant reminder that reinforced my progressive social values.
The idea that an innate part of who I am, something that I could not and would not change, was going to make my life harder or more difficult was so confusing, and it grew to become infuriating. Over time that experience helped to broaden my perspective to appreciate how many other people battle a more difficult world simply because of the things that make them unique. That is why, for as long as I am in this place, the things that make you different, the things that make you special, will be not only acknowledged but celebrated. Not only will they be recognised but also they will be legislatively and politically supported.
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