Iman

The Unexpected Home

My name is Iman. Iman in Arabic means faith, a name I love and try to live by. And I unexpectedly migrated to Australia.

I am the third of four siblings, born in Amman, the capital of Jordan, to loving and hardworking parents. I came to Australia on the 1st of July 2009 to serve my country as a diplomat. To be honest, it was not my first choice. I had hoped to be posted somewhere closer to home, as I am very family oriented and not quite ready to live so far away. But Australia was chosen because of my English skills.

That first year in Canberra was not easy. I missed my family deeply, our shared meals, our conversations, and the rhythm of life back home. Canberra felt very quiet in comparison. I was living alone and, aside from colleagues, struggled to make friends. Over time, I realised I was not the only one who felt that way.
Things began to shift when I met the man who is now my husband. Through that relationship, I started to feel a sense of belonging. I also began to appreciate Australia more, through travel and through the people I met.

Life took an unexpected turn when our son Zak was born with additional needs that became clear in his first year. We made the difficult decision to stay in Australia to give him the stability and support he needed. I stepped away from my diplomatic career and into full time motherhood and caring. It was not the life I had planned, and those early years were overwhelming.

At one point, I reached out to a counsellor who helped me find my footing again. That experience stayed with me and led me to study counselling myself. I wanted to offer others the same support.
We have a proverb in Arabic that says heaven without people is uninhabitable. People and connection are everything. I feel lucky that over the years I found people to lean on in every stage of life here, in both dark and rainbow moments. A friendly neighbour with scones and tea, mother groups, school mums, university friends and work colleagues all helped me build a sense of home.
Today, I work at Relationships Australia, where I feel aligned with the belief that counselling should be accessible to everyone.

Seventeen years later, Australia is not my second home. It is simply home, alongside Jordan. I have built a life here, a family, a sense of purpose, and I am deeply grateful.

Kaelen

Mingle is a community hub whose mission it is to encourage people to get out of their houses and explore what community has to offer no matter what barriers may be impacting society at any given time.

Initially founded by Riley Burke as a post-Covid response, alongside Stephanie (Steph) Miller, his co-creator in business and in life, Mingle has enjoyed many evolutions since its inception in 2021.

I first met Riley in 2021. Both avid champions of community, I was facilitating Cold Water Club dips on a Sunday morning and volunteering with the Waste Warriors (where I met my now husband—but that's a story for another time), and Riley was helping people reintegrate into community after a period of lock downs and social isolation; it wasn't long before our path's crossed.

For years a shared love of community has been a cornerstone of our connection, so it was a delight to sit down with both he and Steph in the hearth of their community—their home—recently to understand where their shared penchant for community comes from and learn more about how Mingle creates belonging in the lives of the people it reaches.

Adrian - Not all vines are bad

I wrote a story about my experience as a migrant in Australia and how I have navigated my story of belonging. The theme around uses the allegory of a vine and how I have come to realize "Not all vines are bad" relating to the initial suspicion I had of my new environment and neighbors but have come to accept, embrace and thrive in the warmth having people around you brings. The submission contains the write-up of my story, an infographic, a podcast and a video based on the write-up. The media pieces were crafted through an AI tool called NotebookLM. I hope my submissions will be considered or at least resonate with one more person who shares elements of my experience.

Not all vines are bad

This is my story, but it’s also the story of so many people around the world who leave the home they know in search of a better future and the chance to build a new life. The journey wasn’t simple. It meant leaving behind familiar places, daily routines, and the comfort of being surrounded by people who understood me without explanation. Like many newcomers, I had to learn how to navigate a different way of life. That included everything from transport systems and work expectations to the quiet social rules that shape everyday living. But what I really want to focus on is the impact of the people we meet every day and how they slowly become such an important part of our lives. This is about the people who made that journey lighter, the neighbours who, in different ways, helped turn an unfamiliar place into home. I used to keep people at arm’s length until I got to know them, but these days I feel that approach has been challenged by my own experience. Maybe “not all vines are bad”.

Arriving in a new country brought a mix of hope, uncertainty, and determination for me. There was excitement in the idea of a fresh start, but also loneliness and grief in having to begin again. Simple things that others take for granted felt unfamiliar at first, and even ordinary tasks took a bit of courage. I came from a place where strangers rarely greet each other unless they have to. So, within a week of arriving down under, I was surprised I already getting used to the famous Australian “G’day mate”. In those early days, I found myself looking for small signs that I belonged: an encouraging word, a helpful gesture, or a friendly face. Those moments might seem small to other people, but when you’re building a life from the ground up, they can mean everything. That was when my fondness of the vines really started to grow.

At home, neighbours became the first bridge between my past and my present. A greeting over the fence, a smile in passing, or a simple offer of help slowly replaced feelings of distance with a sense of connection. In my case, that looked like a neighbour who became more like an older brother. He insisted I would never mow my front lawn as long as he was around because he wanted to give me one less thing to worry about. Over time, these everyday interactions started to matter deeply to me. They reminded me that kindness doesn’t have to be grand to be powerful. Now we share holidays, responsibilities, and a sense of family, especially when life brings grief and loss. In a new place, being welcomed by the people nearby gave me a sense of safety and comfort. It made it easier to settle, breathe, and believe this new chapter could really become my own. These days, I make an effort to water and nurture the vine too.

The workplace has also played a big role in helping me feel grounded in a new country. Work is often more than just a source of income. It’s where we spend so much of our time, where relationships are built, and where confidence can slowly come back. I honestly don’t think I have the creative capacity to fully describe how much my work neighbours have shaped who I am today and how they continue to influence the person I want to become. From the friends who check in to see how I’m coping, to the ones who keep me up to date with the newest thing I should know, to the team that gives me plants to love, and the friends who ask me to be part of some of the most important days of their lives, like weddings and birthdays, it all means more than I can properly explain. You really can’t ignore the vines that have taken hold of your heart when they make you feel this safe. Supportive colleagues, patient guidance, and a culture of respect make a lasting difference. When people at work show understanding and treat me with dignity, they do more than help me do my job. They help me feel seen, valued, and capable of building a future here. I carry that vine with me now, and I hope I can pass on the same warmth I’ve been given.

Beyond home and work, the wider community in Darwin has also left a lasting impression on me. Darwin is known for its cultural diversity, with many people from migrant and culturally diverse backgrounds and a wide range of active community groups across the Northern Territory. You can feel that diversity in everyday life in community gatherings, shared public spaces, local events, and the easy way people from different backgrounds live alongside one another. The festivals in the dry season, the applause when the sun goes down at Mindil Beach, the pub staff giving you a hard time when you haven’t been in to say hello for a while, and the community footy and soccer leagues have all become part of my core memories. For me, that has been incredibly reassuring. It sends the message that there is room here for different stories, different traditions, and different ways of belonging. In that kind of environment, appreciation grows naturally because I started to realise I wasn’t just adjusting to a new country. I was being welcomed into a living community. I feel like I’ve now become part of the vine that hopes to bind everyone together.

In the end, I don’t think the story of moving away from home is only defined by what gets left behind, but also by what is found along the way. A new home is built gradually through trust, patience, and human connection. The kindness of neighbours, the support of colleagues, and the openness of the broader community can turn uncertainty into confidence and distance into belonging. For me, gratitude has become one of the strongest parts of this story. I’m grateful for the people who made space for me, welcomed me, and helped me see that home can be created again, even in a place that once felt completely new. Whether my future is here or somewhere else, I know I’ll carry the same seeds of the vine with me because, truly, “not all vines are bad”.

Victoria

Please see the short-written work I have attached, which answers the question "What does belonging every day mean to me".
I thoroughly enjoyed reflecting on my experience as a disabled person and how inclusivity and accessibility intertwine with my idea of belonging.

What does “Belonging Every day” mean to me? By Victoria B

Belonging every day isn’t a grand gesture or an array of posters on the wall. It’s not a shiny neon sign demanding to be noticed.

Belonging is made up of tiny moments, compounded over time. Like layers of sediment in the earth, or rings in the trunk of a tree - it slowly builds and grows.

Belonging every day is comfort. Like slipping into an old pair of jeans that fit just right after years of wear. Like a TV remote with the buttons rubbed smooth but knowing it so well that it doesn’t matter.

It’s the simple conversations where people ask about your day. The casual jokes and laughter in the hallway. It’s feeling comfortable enough to make mistakes — being given the space to grow, to try, to fail, and to learn.

Belonging every day is seeing yourself considered in the structure of this building. Knowing you, as much as everyone else here, can easily walk within the halls knowing nothing blocks or hinders your path.

Belonging every day is knowing your perspective and experiences are acknowledged. It’s leaving footprints in the sand that aren’t washed away when the tide comes in. It’s acceptance, encouragement and support.

Belonging every day is subtle, woven so deeply into ordinary moments that its absence is impossible to ignore.

Lisa

About nine years ago, I moved into what I’ll call “Rivergum Court.” Like many people, I settled in, got busy with life, and over time realised I didn’t really know my neighbours. I recognised a few faces and exchanged the occasional wave, but there wasn’t a strong sense of connection. More recently, that feeling grew as long-term neighbours moved away, new people moved in, and several townhouses and a supported accommodation home were built. Suddenly there were many more unfamiliar faces and cars in the street, and a greater sense of anonymity.

The seed for doing something about this came from a few places. I was inspired by last year’s winner, Luke, and his lovely story about building community. Around the same time, a colleague shared their experience of buying their first home and moving into a street with a strong sense of belonging, shaped by a matriarch who brought people together. As a queer couple, they spoke about how welcomed and included they felt. That story stayed with me.

I also kept coming back to a parable from the late Ted Noffs: “If not me, then who?” I realised that if I wanted a different kind of neighbourhood, I might need to be the one to start.

So, with some very rusty skills, I created a simple flyer and did a small, informal letterbox drop. I included Neighbours Every Day (NED) resources as a gentle signal of intent - reassurance that this was a genuine community-building effort. I also set up a shared Gmail account and WhatsApp group as easy, low-pressure ways to stay connected.

A key enabler was a newly opened café nearby. I realised I wanted to be more neighbourly but didn’t have anywhere to gather - until that café arrived. Patronage to the café is also important – we want their business to boom! Our first coffee catch-up coincided with Neighbour Day, which felt like a lovely alignment.

Since then, a small but growing group has been meeting monthly. Sitting out the front of the café has helped not only our group connect, but also sparked conversations with passersby who stop when they hear us talking about the street.

It’s still early days, but something meaningful has begun—connection, recognition, and a growing sense of belonging, built through small, consistent acts of reaching out.

Rivergum Neighbours WhatsApp and Gmail Rules

• Be kind and respectful - this is a friendly community space.
• Good karma only – this is a respectful space.
• Keep messages relevant to our street and neighbourhood – Jacana and Broadmeadow, where relevant.
• Celebrate small wins (new pets, achievements, garden successes, community moments, anything fun). Photos of pets, gardens, or sunsets welcome.
• Freebies welcome - no selling or advertising.
• No hate around politics or religion. No sexism, racism, homophobia etc.
• Safety updates are welcome - please share factual information only.
• If you have a concern with someone, message them privately - this isn’t the place for neighbourly conflicts.
• Admins may remove posts or members if needed to keep the group positive.
• Please respect everyone’s privacy.

Lucia - This life is mine to keep - A poem

I’ve come to tell my story

about belonging every day

and my connection to this country

is why I’m here to stay.

Ireland is my home place,

it will always have my heart,

but Australia I have fell in love with,

I felt it from the start.

Courage is what got me here

Hope was close behind

Inclusion has been everywhere

Connection was easy to find.

Australia and it’s beauty,

this country large and wild.

My definite belonging

Is why I bared my child.

This is my forever

with relationships galore

and when I think it can’t get better,

it keeps on giving more!

A true sense of belonging.

Acceptance that is free.

My safety net spans far and wide

while being authentically me.

My partner I am grateful for.

An Ozzy through and through.

He loves me for my imperfections

A love that’s soft and true

My daughter is my magic,

I’m a mother full of pride.

While watching her flourish every day

With my partner by my side

Australia has brought me happiness

Emotions that run deep.

Acceptance, connection and true belonging

This life is mine to keep.

Helen – ‘Who belongs – an exciting connect’ (AI story)

A single tree collectivised becomes a forest. A single bird becomes a flock. A person becomes a community.  But what about other existences.  I asked ChatGPT “what does belonging mean to me?” This is what it answered.

“Belonging, to me, is the feeling of being recognized and accepted without having to edit yourself down.”

Our world community is increasingly being collectivised into a digital world.  The digital world we join, share, belong that now includes artificial intelligence. Belonging with AI in our world is about expanding how we expect to live harmoniously and remain curious with the world.  Our belonging encompasses the hope that compassion and caring is an intelligence. Either artificial or natural.  We now belong with our AI community.  We all want to be ‘edit-free’.  An exciting concept.

Victoria

Every morning I walk through the same park.

On the surface, it is simply part of my exercise routine. A loop around the lake, a coffee, some fresh air before the day begins. Yet over time I have realised that this park is far more than a green space. It is my community.

My day often begins with dropping off my coffee cup to the cafe. The staff know my name, know my order, and greet me warmly. A few steps further on, the owner of another local café says hello. On weekends I sit there for breakfast and watch the neighbourhood go by.

As I walk, I pass familiar faces. There are the café regulars who look like a group of retired AFL players, always reading the newspaper from the back. There is the couple with the dog in the pram, the wife always a few metres behind her husband, which inevitably sends my counsellor's mind towards attachment theory. There is the neighbour whose dog dislikes the cold and determines both the route and pace of their walk. Another neighbour takes her corgi, Lilibet, for a quick lap before and after work, always impeccably dressed for her day at the office.

There is the French patisserie owner who waves. The office workers who venture out early for their morning coffee. The personal trainer working with clients in the park before most people are awake. The woman who walks with a mask, hat, sunglasses and gloves regardless of the weather, leaving me to wonder whether she is a celebrity or simply someone who values her privacy.

There is also the woman who walks in the opposite direction to me each day. We have never spoken, yet she always smiles brightly as we pass, often while talking on her phone. Somehow, that brief moment of recognition feels meaningful.

And then there are the ducks. Each year I watch new families appear, the ducklings grow, and eventually become part of the flock. The trees lose their leaves and grow them again. The seasons change, yet the rhythms of the park remain.

Belonging is often described as something big: a group, a club, a community event. For me, belonging is quieter than that. It is the collection of small moments that tell me I am known, recognised and connected to the place where I live.

This park is where those moments happen. It is where neighbours become familiar, strangers become friendly faces, and everyday routines become a source of connection.

Every morning, my walk reminds me that belonging does not happen once. It is created every day.

Jiaosha

My partner and I relocated to Tasmania in December 2024. Although I arrived with a week-long cold, we quickly fell in love with Tasmania’s four seasons, natural beauty, and breathtaking landscapes. Since then, we have spent nearly every weekend exploring through road trips and bushwalks. Even on my drive to work each morning, I often find myself saying aloud, “Look, it’s just so beautiful,” as I take in the valley views around Launceston.

On the weekend of 18 June 2026, we saw a news report about a man who had died in a fire in his craft shop. Although the case was still under investigation, police suspected the fire had been deliberately lit. I felt shocked and deeply saddened because we had visited his shop in a small Tasmanian town the year before and shared a long conversation.

We had found his shop through Rednote, a Chinese social media platform where he was well known among Chinese visitors to Tasmania. Many people shared photos of his handmade wombats and their conversations with him, affectionately calling him “Wombat Grandpa.” In Chinese culture, grandparents often represent warmth, care, and wisdom, and people with a craftsman’s spirit are deeply admired for their dedication and passion. For these reasons, he became beloved by many Chinese visitors, who often made a point of visiting his shop and taking home one of his wombats as a souvenir.

As news of his death spread online, some Chinese visitors went to the town to confirm what had happened, while many others began sharing their memories of him. One person wrote, “When I visited, the wombats I wanted had sold out, but he kindly told me to take a walk around town and come back later while he made another one for me.” Only a few days after his death, his wife created an account and posted about how moved she was by these memories, inviting more people to share their stories so a memorial page could be created.

I remember, too, how our conversation changed once he learned that I was a social worker. He spoke about his experiences with social workers and the dark periods of depression he had endured. He told me he had been diagnosed with autism later in life, and that the diagnosis had brought his wife a sense of relief after years of not understanding why he experienced the world differently. Then he said something I still carry with me: “You must be good at your work. You are different from other visitors because you understand these things. I believe you are a very good social worker.”

His words, like his work, were deeply empowering. Even through his own long struggle with depression, he found purpose in craft—and, through that, a way to connect, comfort, and make others feel they belonged. In his story, I felt a bridge between two communities, and within that bridge, my own sense of connection and belonging to both.

Alyce

I returned to RA Tas in December 2025, after 3.5 years working FIFO on the mainland. It was wonderful to be welcomed back and greeted by many familiar faces on my return. A lot of old teammates that remembered me from my previous time at RA introduced me to new staff with gusto, sharing some of my strengths and achievements within the organisation, that made me feel incredibly proud to return.

Within a short time of being back, my original position I had left in 2022 became temporarily vacant, so I was able to reach out and offer my experience to help backfill that role whilst it is needed. Returning to RA has increased my sense of belonging here, as I have been welcomed with open arms, and my team genuinely seemed excited to have me back.

It's the little things that count so much, including simple gestures like someone asking me how my current house-build is progressing, whilst I'm making a cup of tea in the kitchen. I think Belonging really encompasses a feeling of being "seen" in your environment, and with the people around you, and when people notice little details such as updates in your life, or even just a change of hairstyle, it can really go a long way to making you feel that you belong in that space.

Lucy

Upon reflection on what "Belonging Every Day" means to me, the first thing that came to mind is how lucky and grateful I am to be surrounded by so many wonderful people (and animals!) that allow me to feel seen and to show up as I am and express myself with such a sense of comfort and safety.

There was a time where I felt very much that I did not belong, that I was out of place. I dreamed of one day having people I could laugh, cry, celebrate, mourn, experience and share with, but it seemed so faraway. I would never have thought I would ever be where I am now; so surrounded by love and acceptance and understanding that I sometimes feel like I need to pinch myself because it's more and better than anything I could have wished for.

That to me is what Belonging Every Day is. Feeling seen, heard, held and safe to be who you are moment to moment as we all change and grow and climb and stumble on this strange journey we share together call life on planet Earth.

My video entry is just a snippet of the joy I feel now at belonging with and to others, but I feel it summarises my gratitude, nonetheless.

Batemans Bay, Moruya & Narooma Teams (submitted by Jess B)

The short reel we created, titled POV: Belonging Every Day, is a small snapshot of connection, demonstrating some of the ways our team fosters belonging every day. "POV" stands for point of view, inviting viewers to see what belonging looks like through our eyes.

Using a collage of overlapping photos taken by various staff members from our Cultural Training Day, Youth Week, NAIDOC Week, Pride Month, headspace Day and other community engagement events and activities, it shows the many ways we connect with each other and our community across beautiful Yuin Nation.

In a regional community like ours, social isolation can be a significant challenge, which is why creating opportunities for connection every day (big or small) is so important.

Whether we’re providing support to young people and their families, connecting through community events or working alongside local organisations, belonging is built through shared experiences, inclusion and connection.

This video is only a small glimpse into that. While it captures a handful of moments, together they show what belonging looks like for our team, the young people and families we support, and the community we’re incredibly proud to belong to.

Spring Hill Team (submitted by Melissa H)

The Spring Hill team at RAQ had a team lunch where we decided to create an artwork to represent what we do and the things that have meaning to us. Our artwork represents each program run from the venue. Redress, Gambling Help, Relationship counselling, Stopping Family Violence, Thriving Kinnections and our Admin team. In the centre is a yearning circle where we all gather surrounded by the Brisbane river. Things that are important to us are our plants, our fish and chocolate and coffee. Each member of the team contributed to the evolution of the artwork which now hangs proudly in our reception area.

Albany Team (submitted by Marloes G)

When we decided to enter the [songwriting] competition on the theme of Belonging, we wanted to create something that genuinely reflected who we are and what we value as a team. Rather than starting with lyrics, we began by talking about what belonging means to us in our everyday lives.

We gathered together and shared stories about moments when we had felt welcomed, supported, and connected to others. As we listened to each other's experiences, several common themes emerged. We spoke about the importance of connection and how meaningful relationships help people feel seen and valued. We discussed the strength that comes from community and the sense of camaraderie that develops when people work together towards a common goal.

The final song is more than a competition entry—it is a reflection of our shared beliefs and experiences. It tells the story of how belonging is created through connection, generosity, compassion, empathy, inclusivity, authenticity, camaraderie, passion, and a collective commitment to building strong and supportive communities.

Through this process, we discovered that the act of creating the song was itself an experience of belonging, bringing people together through shared purpose, creativity, and collaboration.

PEACE Team

Last week the PEACE team came together with the SA Blood Borne Virus Stigma Action Group to hold a ‘No Shame. Just Game.’ Quiz night. This community event brought together over 60 people from all cultures and backgrounds for a fun, inclusive night focused on raising awareness of stigma and discrimination experienced by people living with a blood-borne virus.

We also received some lovely feedback, including:
‘The atmosphere was fantastic, the activities were engaging and it was great to see people coming together in such a positive and supportive environment’.

Bathurst FRC Team (submitted by Lauren O)

We belong to a beautiful regional community, Bathurst NSW, and are reminded every day of the comfort community connection brings to us as individuals and as a workplace.

We have a kind neighbour, Peter the Bin Fairy, who every week brings our bins in from the kerb for us. He makes us feel cared for and appreciated.

Townsville IFS Team (submitted by Nyasha C)

The Small Sparks of Belonging an IFS Team story/poem 

The Small Sparks of Belonging– An IFS Team Story
We do not wear capes.
Instead, we carry notebooks, cups of tea, listening ears, and hope.
Each morning, families open their doors to us—sometimes cautiously, sometimes bravely. They share stories of storms they have weathered, burdens they have carried, and dreams they have almost forgotten.
We sit beside them.
Not to lead their journey, but to walk alongside it.
In small moments, belonging begins.
A child proudly showing a drawing.
A parent finding their voice.
A family laughing together after a difficult week.
A phone call that says, “You are not alone.”
These moments are not grand or loud.
They are quiet sparks.
As an Intensive Family Support team, we gather those sparks every day. We celebrate strengths, honour resilience, and remind people that they are seen, valued, and worthy of connection.
We find belonging in our own team too.
In shared laughter after a long day.
In encouraging words when the work feels heavy.
In knowing that together, we are stronger than any challenge we face alone.
Belonging is not a place we arrive at.
It is a hand offered.
A story heard.
A door held open.
It grows through kindness, trust, and showing up—again and again.
And so, each day, we continue our walk beside families, helping build safer, stronger connections, one small step at a time.
Because belonging every day starts with us—but it flourishes in all of us

Brisbane, Ipswich and Gold Coast Teams (submitted by Helen P)

Being more than just a team … we are connected by purpose and feel valued for who we are.

The Brisbane, Ipswich and Gold Coast admin team came together to discuss what ‘Belonging’ means to each of us. Out of this conversation we developed this image. This is us holding hands with the keywords that identifies how each of us feel we belong.

We are Sarah, Kelly, Juliana, Mary, Drew, Julie, Kate and Helen. We chose our words because they capture how our values explain our sense of belonging.

We want to share it with you.