Hi, Sharleen here. I'm a first-generation African Australian. My children are the first in our family to grow up navigating two worlds, and to do so without any other family around them. My husband and I moved to Sydney in 2016 not knowing a soul here. Just our two babies, still in their nappies, and our suitcases.
Over the years they have whispered that loneliness to me in ways that stayed with me. Whenever we went back to Africa to visit family, they begged to stay longer. Just a few more days with their cousins. Whenever they spotted someone who looked like them at the mall or on the streets of Sydney, they would tug on my clothes with excitement. And whenever we met a family who shared our heritage somewhere, "Mum, did you get their number?"
We did get numbers. Those encounters turned into catch ups once or twice. But they always faded. The one or two friends who visited consistently were my friends, the parents. Their kids came along. It wasn't the same as having a community built around the children themselves.
A couple of years ago I flew to Perth to visit very good friends of ours. I marvelled at the proximity their kids had with kids who looked like them. It honestly felt like home. I thought of Sydney, the Arab communities, the Islander communities, the Indian families, the Muslim communities I see gathered at the parks over a BBQ. The way those groups have created something that holds their children. That gives them peers who share their world.
I realised there wasn't that for us in Sydney.
Anyway, I went back home and life continued.
Until.
I came across a video on Instagram. A young Zimbabwean Australian woman, late twenties, who grew up in regional Queensland. No community around her. At eighteen, she saved up for a gap year, booked her first international flight, and flew to Zimbabwe and the UK just to be around people who looked like her. She even left Queensland and moved to Melbourne just to be close to people who shared her world.
I realised then the impact that had on this young lady.
I imagined my kids later feeling this way.
I needed to surround my kids with people — not just their mum and dad, and not just people we met occasionally — but with peers who shared their world.
An active anchor of a community they will grow with.
So The Hut was born.