SKYE TITO

Author: Skye Tito

  • Enrage to Engage

    Enrage to Engage

    Fear and anger are two of the most powerful emotions.

    Scare tactics rely on these primal instincts to be effective. Dishonesty, manipulation or the concept of loss can spark this response in an instant.

    Clickbait headlines, ‘gotcha’ moments and political spin are shaped on these principles. Attention grabbing content that actively lacks context to capture and direct your time and energy.

    The hard sell isn’t the headline, it’s in the fine print.

    Sustaining an emotion needs persuasive storytelling to create connection. Historical references reinforce this isn’t an isolated issue and provide credibility, personal anecdotes make it relatable, and statistics and data reassures the pragmatic parts of our mind.

    A compelling story doesn’t have to include the whole picture, you can retrofit the details to press a point. Handpicking a selection of these elements are strong stand alone pieces, the question is whether it holds up when pulled apart and placed in a wider context.

    That’s when the intent becomes clear and distinguishes whether a narrative is designed to inform and educate or create chaos. Building out the facts and helping people connect the dots to highlight why something is alarming is different to designing a story based on fear.

    Negative gearing is one that springs to mind and how in 2019 Labor lost an ‘unlosable’ election because of the policy reforms they proposed in the lead up to the election.

    Seven years later the housing market is more volatile than before and the negative gearing conversation has been dragged back to the forefront ahead of the 2026 Federal budget next week.

    This excerpt from a 2024 Australian National University opinion piece on the 2019 election, highlights that the problematic themes in political reporting remain:

    He [Bill Shorten] went down in 2019 for being too expansive and honest about policy as much a reflection on voters and a corrosive media as it is on the former leader.

    Policy frankness is all too rare in our politics and should be lauded. It does not serve the electorate’s interests for media to simply parrot the reductive rules of exchange which state that reforms should be modest (and remain hidden) despite the scale of problems needing attention.

    Neither does it serve an active dynamic polity to vilify those who dare to mount arguments, take voters into their confidence and seek a more genuine electoral mandate.

    In other words, Shorten lost in 2019 partly because he was too upfront about how big his plans were and the media and voters punished him for it. Politicians who are honest about the scale of problems and what it will take to fix them are rare and deserve some credit for it. The media did the Coalition’s job for them, dismissing bold policy as too ambitious or too risky and it doesn’t serve anyone. There is something deeply wrong with a political culture that treats honesty as a liability.

    Disarming people doesn’t always mean deescalating a situation with benevolence, it can be used in reverse to push an agenda, often preying on underrepresented or vulnerable communities.

    Polarising perspectives adds momentum, serving as entertainment drivers. They’re captivating through their divisive nature. Similar to someone who can dance, act and sing, if a person can capture how you’re feeling, create a convincing argument with a target and deliver it with theatrics, it’s a triple threat.

    Establishing an enemy is more manageable than working through the issue. It’s easier to create action and a sense of urgency when it’s aimed at a direct pinpoint and based on scarcity, confusion, increased cost or lack of access. Fuelling an ‘us versus them’ mentality, which often pits people against each other rather than the problem.

    Increased cost of living, stagnant wages, rising unemployment rates and intensified housing insecurity are everyday struggles and areas to weaponise because there is already immense pressure there.

    If you’re doing all the right things and still can’t seem to get ahead, let alone sit at a comfortable baseline, then it makes sense to back in the loud, definitive voice advocating for your concerns

    Clear and absolute cuts through, long winded and obscure doesn’t. Which is a flaw with both sides of the debate, on one hand you have an active attempt of using everyday battles as an instrument and the other lacks a willingness or capability to accurately step out the situation. Reducing an important issue to discourse of stoking fear and playing the blame game.

    Again. It’s all in the intent.

    Saying the right things doesn’t automatically mean acting in good faith. Someone’s claim to good faith could be rooted in a moral reference point that may be genuinely incompatible with yours.

    The principles for good and bad, right and wrong seem black and white but there is always a conflicting position. To the majority it may be false, morally bankrupt, even abhorrent, but interpretation often stems from lived experience or personal motives, that in isolation is as good as true to some.

    Deciphering whether there is a genuine call to action for change or a sound bite to sway opinions back to a wider agenda isn’t straightforward or simple.

    Genuine positions are built up brick by brick, their integrity holds through consistency when you pull it apart and assess it, brick by brick. In the same way we analyse when a person’s words and actions don’t align, discrepancies will always surface.

    If your role is to serve the public, then it should withstand intense scrutiny. Media and Government are two key drivers and for both areas there are codes and principles that govern this expectation.

    The “Nolan Principles” outline seven principles for public life: selflessness, integrity, objectivity, accountability, openness, honesty and leadership.

    Similarly in the world of media, the code of ethics centred on honesty, fairness, accuracy, independence and respect for the rights of others. A longstanding declaration, echoing the same sentiment from the Journalist’s Creed written in 1914.

    “I believe that the public journal is a public trust; that all connected with it are, to the full measure of their responsibility, trustees for the public; that acceptance of a lesser service than the public service is betrayal of this trust.”

    If acting with sincerity and integrity isn’t guaranteed, it shifts the responsibility on the consumer to dig a little deeper. Is that fair? No. Is it simple? Also, no. But as our political and media landscapes continue to evolve, we have to move with it.

    Diversify your media consumption, read opposing views or arguments, switch up your sources to extend beyond media outlets and apply critical thinking skills across every bit of material.

    Discernment isn’t a rejection of any and all commentary, it’s an active choice to form a decision based on your own accord, rather than accepting direction at face value.

  • Roles reversed

    Roles reversed

    The nature of a teenage mind is similar to my thought process now when I’m halfway through an argument and realise I’m wrong. Adamant and ready to double down on my convictions, even if entirely misguided.

    The only difference now is that I can’t use an underdeveloped prefrontal cortex as a scapegoat.

    A lack of understanding often builds resentment builds in insidious ways, creeping in and occupying the attic of your brain, biding time until the weight starts to compound and inevitably crashes to the forefront of your mind.

    I became accustomed to operating with a lack of information, shaped by growing up on a need-to-know basis, vulnerability and transparency were largely absent from conversation, if there was any conversation at all.

    Like most young people, all I wanted was the freedom to make my own choices. Frustrated when my well rehearsed pitch to go to parties or hang out with friends were met with a firm no.

    Convinced I had the foresight, sound judgement and life skills to handle any adverse or unpredictable outcomes.

    Looking back I’m grateful I was safeguarded and managed, as an impulsive, undiagnosed ADHD teenager it is likely that risks were removed from me before I ever had a chance to experience what they were.

    It also made me realise that at that age, I actually had more free reign than I assumed. By the time I was 16, I was the decision maker to remove myself from private school education, dropping out of high school to work in administration and ultimately deciding to return to school and repeat year 11 to receive my high school certificate.

    Each of those critical factors shaping my future was led by me.

    At the same age, being confronted with the murder of a close friend was entirely out of my control, but I was in charge of my response and how to manage it. In hindsight, I delivered more practical outcomes for a funeral than I did for my entire HSC.

    When I think of being granted with freedom as a teenager, I instinctively envision a carefree reality, moving through life on a whim and unbridled by the existential dread of making decisions on anything that actually mattered.

    Now, at almost twice that age, I realise my friends and I had enough independence to shape the course of our lives before we could even buy a bottle of wine. We were granted early access to a level of autonomy and decision making that resulted in real world consequences.

    The novelty of life is that it’s not linear and every day it presents new opportunities to course correct to chart a new path forward.

    The irrefutable truth is that pre-determinants and lived experience are the cards you’re dealt. While individual choices can lead to different outcomes, there’s always an existing set of circumstances that can’t just be reshuffled.

    As you get older, it’s inevitable that you start calling the shots.

    At some point we hit a crossroads, where the veil lifts and you realise that your all knowing, larger than life parents are just people who are also muddling through and trying to figure it out in real time.

    Their flaws and fears become visible and suddenly the things they did, and choices they made start to feel more understandable. It is both grounding and disorienting, to realise you’re living a shared human experience of just doing the best you can with what you know.

    You see them at eye level as opposed to being ten feet tall. But this can be a fleeting moment as roles reverse and you become the lead.

    The timeline of that realisation is rarely equal. Class plays its part, shaping when it happens and how heavy the load becomes once it does. With some bearing the navigator role as a minor, unaware of any other reality and unknowingly forfeiting a childlike sensibility in place of a hardwired mindset of survival.

    With competing priorities at play, success is often correlated to sacrifice. If you’re required to cover a wider area of core needs for more people than just yourself, it ultimately results in less resources for up-skilling and getting ahead, fuelling the vicious cycle of intergenerational disadvantage.

    Temporary hardship can be resolved with curative solutions, whereas breaking patterns has to come from preventive measures. Reform steeped in education and aimed at equitable and accessible opportunities.

    On average, most people default to Google to seek out information. Even then it can be difficult and ambiguous to extract what you need, let alone even understanding there is more out there than gets captured in your keyword search.

    You can’t look for something you don’t know exists.

    Identifying ways to improve our lives is not as innate or intuitive in the same way we know how to service our core needs.

    If our cars need fuel, we know to go to a service station, if we need groceries we know to head to the supermarket, if we need to deposit money we know to go to the bank, if we need medication we know to go to the chemist.

    If you are having problems with your landlord, do you know there is a Rental Commissioner and that new legislative reforms may apply to your situation? If you are trying to resolve a toll dispute, are you aware there are two different ombudsmen depending on the road where the fee was issued? And if you have been hit with the Medicare Levy at tax time, do you know it can be offset by taking out basic hospital cover? But if you do so after 31 you are signed up for a lifetime tax for being late to the game.

    You don’t know what you don’t know.

    This is amplified when these systems that you are captured in often impact your day to day, in the same regularity of buying bread or getting a prescription filled.

    Whether you’re a creative searching for grants, entrepreneur looking for funding, or just wanting to get a better deal from your energy provider. Start your search on government websites (federal and relevant state/territory as there are different initiatives across different levels of government) and branch out from there.

    My recommendation doesn’t stem from a suggestion that government resources are the holy grail, but it does provide a credible starting point to use as a springboard to other sources and can help verify some dated reddit thread you’re banking on.

  • Softness is a skill

    Softness is a skill

    Being perceived as soft, is often immediately linked to weakness. Much like every other outdated phrase of masculinity masquerading as a fragile ego, the idea of being labelled as soft is usually interpreted as being a pushover, lacking resilience or unable to hold power in any given situation.

    The link between softness and strength is rarely made.

    To retain a warm disposition after experiencing hardship is not an insurmountable amount of work. It’s much easier to avoid hardships by cutting off access to yourself entirely, staying safe and sheltered within an iron clad defence.

    What you label as safety is really a sealed, sanitised world running alongside reality. It shields you from discomfort, but also from growth, keeping you suspended in a stagnant version of safety you’ve convinced yourself is real.

    These are often the same type of people who dodge difficult conversations by deflecting, or who use the silent treatment as a reflexive response to conflict.

    As a reformed silent-treatment expert, fuelled by a hyper-independent nature, I had managed to convince myself that no matter the outcome, I could comfortably go it alone.

    An offhanded comment at a dinner party made me question my hard wired beliefs. I distinctly remember saying, “I love my people, they’re the best – but they’re ‘nice to have’, I think I’d be fine by myself”.

    A friends swift rebuttal instantly challenged my view, highlighting the importance of community and reinforcing that life is only good because you have people to share it with. It compelled me to pull apart my perspective, instead of just rattling it off as the drafted talking point in my mind.

    I had completely neglected to acknowledge that parts of my personality, the way I view the world and the reason that I’m able to try my hand at whatever crash hot idea of the day I have at the time is largely shaped by the people around me. More so, the significant contribution they make in the unmeasurable time, energy and support they dedicateto me.

    As a self-identified solo operator, I relinquished myself of the perceived burden of having to deal with things I didn’t want to. I signed off on my own permission slip, absolving myself of any responsibilities I didn’t see the value or merit in dealing with.

    Determined to discard it rather than process it, because working through any strong yet confusing feelings would mean retracing my steps to the core reason I found it uncomfortable, and at that stage I wasn’t willing to do that.

    It feels similar to wanting to renovate your house for improvements, digging down a little, then hitting a water pipe, and instead of working through solutions to manage the setback or address the weak spot, you choose to throw the dirt back on top, pat it down, and return to regular programming.

    You settle into what feels familiar and free of immediate inconvenience, rather than doing the work and benefitting from an improved home that better suits your needs.

    But like the fictitious water pipe, pushing down unprocessed emotions will eventually compound, just like the sediment you tossed over the problem to make it go away.

    Deciding to be part of something that extends beyond yourself means putting yourself out there, which exposes you to more experiences, both good and bad. Even if it’s the latter, the more trials you endure, the more you benefit by building resilience, increasing your tolerance to adversity and learning what to avoid in the future.

    Softness doesn’t automatically grant entry, but it allows you to be accessible. A hard exterior often fails to decipher the difference between the positive and the negative, limiting your chance to experience anything of real value.

    Venturing into the world with an open mind, even after it has taught you to harden, is an act of real strength.

  • Millennial middle managers

    Millennial middle managers

    Not too long ago, millennials were branded the carefree generation who wanted it all without putting in the work. Raised to believe that grit and persistence could unlock the dream of home ownership, a little travel and a stable career, before the goal posts continued to move.

    As Gen Z takes its turn as the “lazy” generation, millennials are left managing the space in between. Too young to profit from structures of the past, too shaped by it to start from scratch.

    The evolution of technology is where the push and pull feels strongest. Millennials grew up alongside the rise of social media, streaming and smartphones, creating the bridge between the offline and online worlds. They navigated uncharted territory, learning how to live both publicly and privately through screens.

    They are old enough to remember life before the internet, yet still carry a faded memory of life offline that helps them sense check reality, even if not always successfully.

    Now they’re raising kids in a digital world while helping their parents navigate it. They’re guiding both directions, using lived experience as their north star and trying to keep their own balance intact. Gifting them the full middle-manager experience.

    The digital divide between young and old has shifted into more of an alliance. Sharing a mutual desire for connection, community and convenience.

    Older generations have embraced technology to make everyday life easier. Accessing essential services, contributing to community groups and staying in touch with family and friends can all be done from the comfort of home.

    The double-edged sword of constant online connection is that it can also create an invisible bubble. With grocery deliveries, Telehealth appointments and FaceTime catch-ups, it’s possible to go days without any real world contact.

    As with most things, the inevitable cost of convenience comes with unintended consequences. Insidiously fuelling a fractured sense of belonging and a growing feeling of loneliness.

    Navigating misinformation, scams, cyber threats and the enticement of instant gratification from social media and gaming, while trying to maintain real-world relationships, is a challenge that transcends generations.

    In the final report on the Parliamentary Inquiry of Loneliness in New South Wales, problematic social media use was listed as a risk factor at the individual level.

    Johanna Pitman, Chair of the Research Subcommittee at the Groundswell Foundation, a not-for-profit tackling loneliness and its impact on mental health, says excessive social media use can limit young people’s in-person interactions and weaken real-world connections.

    The online world poses risks beyond lost connection. Gen Z have been flagged as the most likely to be scammed, while Baby Boomers still lose the most, often through social media.

    While well meaning advice can be offered to older generations to mitigate these risks, the approach for younger online users can be not only forthright, but enforceable by law under the incoming social media ban.

    The Australian Government will implement world-first laws banning under-16s from social media from December 10. Platforms will be forced to find and remove underage accounts. The reform aims to protect young people from the pressures and pitfalls of life online.

    The effectiveness of blanket bans remains a contested issue and will no doubt be tested in the coming months.

    Enduring reform doesn’t come from one solution alone. Education is a vital part of the puzzle, but it works best when supported by broader efforts that reflect the realities of today’s digital world.

    Under the Australian Curriculum, digital literacy, critical and creative thinking, and ethical understanding are core capabilities. They encourage students to use technology thoughtfully, question and create with curiosity, and make choices grounded in fairness and integrity. Together, these skills can help young people think sharper and act wiser in a digital age.

    The Australian Curriculum is updated every few years to keep pace with change. The most recent review, completed in 2021, led to Version 9.0 which started getting implemented in classrooms from 2023.

    Keeping the curriculum current is key to helping young people navigate life online. But as technology evolves faster than ever, and more teens look to peers, influencers and celebrities for advice, it raises the question of whether we are truly meeting them where
    they are.

    Developing safeguards to protect young people online is vital, but so is ensuring they can contribute to conversations shaping the digital spaces they live in.

    Participation in youth steering committees, involvement with youth organisations, submissions to parliamentary inquiries, speaking with local MPs, and sharing views with parents and teachers are all valuable ways to engage and advocate.

    Yet from a teenager’s perspective, do these really feel like opportunities to create change, or barriers that simply push them to find ways around the rules?

  • House of cards

    House of cards

    The genetics lottery used to be about health and appearance, now it seems as if homeownership is part of the draw. The prospect of becoming a homeowner is starting to feel more tied to heredity than effort.

    In the same way a medical practitioner queries about family illness, maybe mortgage lenders could start asking whether homeownership runs in the family.

    The Australian dream was once underpinned by the core values of hard work and a determined spirit. If you had this and a decent paying job then you were on track to secure your own patch of grass. In 2025, the climate is volatile and fragile with the odds stacked up against you like a house of cards.

    In the early 2000s, the cost of a home was about three to four times the median income. Today, it’s approximately nine times the median income, and in Sydney, it’s closer to 10 times the median income.

    With an eye watering housing to income ratio of 9.8, Sydney takes the crown as the least affordable housing market in the country. For the average buyer, that means 13 years of saving just to scrape together a deposit.

    Thinking of renting instead to escape the pressure? That’s no easy path either. Households in Sydney are spending an average of 33.3% of their income on rent with many paying far more. This places a large portion of the population under rental stress, which is generally defined as spending 30% or more of your income on rent.

    But you don’t need a report to tell you that. You’re more than likely experiencing this first hand.

    Granted not everyone has homeownership on their vision board. Some prefer to rent, allowing them to have more flexibility to live a transient lifestyle, or even just to tick the box of a living in the Bondi bubble before settling down.

    The key difference is choice.

    The options available to many Australian’s have significantly dwindled, forcing many to play into the hands of landlords and lenders.

    When the impact of the cost of living starts to shape how we live, we adapt to match the rate of inflation. Choosing to meal prep over dining out, exploring the outback instead of jet setting overseas, and finessing our DIY skills just enough to keep the home projects from becoming an OH&S issue.

    When it comes to housing, the alternative to extortionate rent or a lifelong deal of debt is homelessness.

    When you rent in an area you’ve always dreamed of living in, you do it knowing you’re at the whim of your agent, auditioning every 12 months and hoping your renewed lease doesn’t come with a hefty rent hike.

    A lot can happen in the space of a year, for those really committed to testing the limits of the cost of living crisis a person could conceive and give birth during a year long lease. But with daycares and many schools being harder to access than the Qantas Chairman’s Lounge, it’s not hard to imagine why Sydney is losing around 7,000 millennials a year, many fleeing interstate in an attempt to secure a sense of stability when it comes to their home.

    In 2024, the NSW Productivity Commission released a housing report, ‘What we gain by building homes in the right places, which laid bare the toll of the housing crisis. Between 2016 and 2021, Sydney lost twice as many people aged 30 to 40 as it gained, while 35,000 moved in, 70,000 packed up and left.

    The rental laws in NSW changed earlier this year, including an end to ‘no grounds’ evictions and a limit on rent increases to once a year. But when housing is uncertain, so is everything else. Building a life, a future, or a sense of belonging feels entirely out of reach.

    For those choosing to stay in NSW, the only thing more daunting than navigating the housing market and reckoning with the cost of homeownership, is figuring out what support actually exists to help you get a foot in the door.

    Each level of government has a role to play in shaping housing policy and providing support. While State and Territory Governments receive funding for housing from the Commonwealth, they also implement their own initiatives to provide additional support to residents.

    With the odds stacked against first-home buyers, any support helps. Here’s a rundown of what someone in Sydney might be able to access when buying an existing home.

    First Home Super Saver Scheme (FHSS) – Commonwealth Program

    Navigating your superannuation is tricky at the best of times, but it can be used as a tool to help you enter the housing market. The First Home Super Saver Scheme is an initiative driven by the Commonwealth Government that allows you to make personal voluntary contributions into your super fund to help you save for your first home.

    It’s basically a side pocket in your super account that you have to fill yourself which can later be withdrawn to help form a deposit for a home you intend to live in. The scheme lets you save up to $50,000 for your first home by making voluntary contributions into your super fund.

    Key word: voluntary.

    This is not a rebranded version of the 2020 COVID-19 Early Release of Super where you had the option to withdraw $10,000 should you meet the eligibility criteria. You cannot move your existing super balance into this scheme.

    How do you get your hard earned income into this scheme?

    • You can start making contributions via salary sacrifice, it’s not an automatic process you have to request this to be arranged through your employer.
    • Salary sacrifice is when you agree to have a portion of your pay go straight into your super fund before it hits your bank account (this is in addition to the compulsory super contributions your employer makes).

    Is the admin burden worth the reward?

    • Let’s say you earn $100,000 per year before tax. That’s around $2,000 a week before tax.
    • Ask your employer to contribute $200 a week to super via salary sacrifice.
    • That $200 goes in before tax, so it’s treated as a concessional contribution.
    • Concessional contributions are taxed at 15% in super, instead of your 30% marginal tax rate on a $100,000 salary.

    In short, you’re redirecting income to save on tax while building your deposit through the First Home Super Saver Scheme.

    Can I transfer money I have in the bank into this scheme?

    If you’ve set up a ‘House Bucket’ after reading The Barefoot Investor and you’re wondering if those savings can be used in this scheme, here’s the deal.

    You can use them, but the money will need to go into your super account first. As you might expect, it’s not as simple as moving cash between everyday accounts.

    Instead, you’ll need to make a personal after-tax contribution to your super. These are known as non-concessional contributions.

    This is a different category to concessional super contributions.

    All of these fall under voluntary contributions.

    It’s got more layers than an onion and just as likely to make you cry.

    Are there contribution caps and what is the difference?

    • Concessional contributions: $30,000 annual cap

      These come from your pre-tax income and are taxed at 15% once they enter your super fund. This cap includes:

      • Salary sacrifice contributions you make.
      • Your employer’s compulsory super contributions (usually 12%, but it may be higher).

    • Non-concessional contributions: $120,000 annual cap

      These come from your after-tax income or savings, and aren’t taxed again when they enter your super. As long as you don’t claim a tax deduction for them, they’re classed as non-concessional.

      • These contributions are separate from your employer’s compulsory super and any salary sacrifice amounts.
      • They are in addition to any concessional contributions you make.

    • First Home Super Saver Scheme

      This is the super side-pocket you’re contributing to in order to save for your first home deposit.

      • $15,000 annual cap for eligible voluntary contributions.
      • $50,000 total cap across all years. That’s the maximum you can withdraw under the scheme.

    Contributions above the set caps can lead to the unintended consequence of more tax.

    Before tinkering with your super, do your research and seek professional advice to make sure this scheme is right for you.

    The First Home Super Saver Scheme comes with eligibility requirements, withdrawal rules, caps, and tax concessions and considerations.

    The tax system is a beast. Complex and interconnected. Every change has a flow-on effect to the bigger picture. The only thing worse than being stuck renting when you’re trying to buy your first home is being hit with a tax bill you didn’t see coming.

    First Home Guarantee – Commonwealth Program

    The first program shows you how to make the most of your own hard-earned income, but what is the Commonwealth Government actually putting on the table beyond helping people stretch their own savings?

    To buy a home you usually need at least 20% of the property price as a deposit.

    The First Home Guarantee Scheme allows eligible buyers purchase with just a 5% deposit. The government guarantees the remaining 15%, giving the bank confidence without making you cough up thousands in insurance.

    There are some home loans that allow you to borrow with a smaller deposit, but in return you have to pay Lenders Mortgage Insurance (LMI).The insurance cost is put in place because you are perceived as a higher risk since you are asking to borrow 95% of the cost of the house.

    It’s not as simple as pulling together a 5% deposit and asking the government to co-sign like they’re the Bank of Mum and Dad. There are eligibility criteria, property price caps, and you’ll be competing for just 35,000 places nationwide each year.

    • You must be a first-home buyer, earning under $125K (single) or $200K (joint applicants).
    • You need to actually live in the property.
    • You can’t have owned property in Australia in the past 10 years.
    • Property price caps top out at $900,000 in Sydney and are lower elsewhere.

    First Home Buyers Assistance Scheme – State Program (NSW)

    When it comes to support offered by State Governments, stamp duty is usually a key focus as it’s controlled at the state level and comes with a hefty price tag.

    Stamp Duty is essentially a one-off government tax you pay when buying a home or land. It’s not small, the cost is often tens of thousands of dollars on top of your deposit and it has to be paid upfront.

    For example, buying an $800,000 home in NSW could mean paying over $30,000 in stamp duty, just to transfer the property into your name.

    Under the First Home Buyers Assistance Scheme, the NSW Government changed the rules in July 2023 so eligible buyers don’t pay stamp duty on homes up to $800,000, a saving of more than $30,000.

    If the property is priced between $800,000 and $1 million, you can apply for a concessional (discounted) rate. You’ll still pay some stamp duty, but significantly less than the full amount.

    Homes priced over $1 million aren’t eligible for the first home buyer discount. And while it’s reasonable for programs to have limits, it still feels like an uphill battle, especially when Sydney’s median house price hit a record $1.7 million in July 2025.

    This is just a snapshot of the government programs designed to make home ownership more attainable. They sit alongside broader efforts to build more homes, deliver supporting infrastructure, make renting fairer, and boost funding for homelessness services to strengthen the safety net.

    For the record, this isn’t financial advice. I pursued a career in words, not numbers, for good reason. But the housing crisis is now so dire, it wouldn’t be surprising if people started seeking advice from a lifelong renter with no finance background.

    Deciphering the fine print can feel overwhelming. So do your research, ask questions, get second opinions and seek professional advice.

    While the foundations for rebuilding our housing system are finally being laid, the growing anxiety around housing insecurity is rising even faster than rent or the pace of new builds.

  • Acts of service

    Acts of service

    Growing up, food didn’t bring me an immense amount of joy. I was a painfully fussy eater, only picking through my limited pre-approved list of meals. As an adult, I’ve outgrown the fussy eater phase, but I’ve held on to the ‘painful’ part and managed to thread it through most areas of my life.

    Seafood is still largely a no-go zone. My disdain for scales and shells developed a longstanding Christmas tradition of a three-course lunch: the main meal, followed by platters of seafood only after I’d left the table, and then wrapped up with dessert, which I was unlikely to return for. My painful nature in full flight.

    Any protein that wasn’t chicken breast or processed lunch meats was off the cards for me. A Sunday roast, steak at a BBQ, or anything besides honey chicken at a Chinese restaurant would be happily traded for a piece of Vegemite toast.

    I viewed my unwavering love for toast as a gift to my parents, knowing they could take peace in the fact that I am entirely satisfied with a couple of slices of toast for dinner. It turns out that this was not a shared view, and me rejecting their well-balanced, home-cooked meals for some toasted Tip Top bread raised their blood pressure as if they were the ones living off processed carbohydrates and sodium.

    A unanimously agreed on positive was that I was a cheap date to take to restaurants. Growing up in Bankstown, my parents carted my sister and me to their circuit of Vietnamese restaurants for Pho.

    I had the same order and routine for about 10 years, chicken pho with a second bowl. On arrival, I’d scoop all of the noodles into a separate bowl, pick out all of the chicken and place it on my dad’s garnish plate, saving the original bowl of broth to sip on later.

    When we moved to Campbelltown, the tradition lived on and we started scouting new spots to try. One of my favourites was just around the corner from my primary school. Every so often, my dad would pick me up in the afternoon after finishing a 12-hour night shift. As a thank you, I treated him to an unsolicited extra serving of protein slapped on a meal he paid for.

    Fast forward a couple of decades and the routine remains the same. Dining at a new spot in  Newtown, we glance at the menu as if we weren’t about to order the exact same meal, make desperate eye contact to show we’re ready to order, and then I settle in for my pre-meal entertainment of Dad mixing half a bottle of hoisin and sriracha while we wait.

    As soon as the bowls arrive, my scene starts. Sliding my bowl closer to his to minimise the drip factor, I start picking out most of the meat to add to his soup. As soon as I look up, I catch him rolling his eyes and muttering, “here we go.”

    My brain kicks into overdrive, fuelled by every ounce of self-awareness. My mind starts flipping through a mental slideshow of all the times I’d divided up my meals to avoid the bits I didn’t like, and how he’d always taken whatever I passed his way without hesitation.

    I’d convinced myself that this was a prime window of opportunity to capitalise on the double protein. His view? Largely indifferent, sometimes inconvenienced, firm in the belief this approach was the lesser of two evils.

    Is this what true love looks like to me? Absolutely. Being able to fling meat across to someone else’s bowl without question is the purest expression of love.

    It may seem contradictory, considering I’ve just painted myself as the dinner date from hell, but cooking for someone is one of the most sincere ways I know to show care and appreciation.


    I get this from my parents, although we don’t always interpret things the same way. When I hear “Chop Suey,” I think of a System of a Down song, not Sapasui, the Samoan version of Chop Suey, which is their instinctive thought.

    To me, the meal is secondary. It’s the subtle acts of service that gently weave their way into everyday life. I can feel my ancestors rolling their eyes as I say this, as my simplification overlooks the importance of culture and the fact that food, at its core, is a basic necessity for survival.

    With that disclaimer out of the way, I’m climbing back onto the hill that I’ll die on, that thoughtful gestures provide an enduring sense of fulfilment, long after the plates are cleared.

    It’s the “I know you’re working late, dinner is in the fridge,” making a conscious effort to remember dietary requirements, remembering someone’s tea to milk ratio. It’s the people in your life who top up your glass of wine after a hard day, then swap it out for a bottle of water hours later because you are one standard drink away from not being able to make eye contact with anyone the next day.

    Care is about filling the gaps in places you didn’t realise even existed.

  • Five year plan

    Five year plan

    If your introduction to Tik Tok was through the lyrics of Kesha, you’re probably experiencing the phase of life where everyone suddenly starts speaking with plurals.The usual suspects, ‘we’re pregnant’, ‘we’re engaged’, ‘we’re excited to announce…’ etc.

    This era also adds an additional layer of vetting on social media to decipher whether the plastic device with two lines is a positive pregnancy test, or COVID-19 result. 

    I was at dinner with a girlfriend last week and time started to catch up and confuse us. I was certain she was 31, I even would have assumed 30, but her 30th birthday is forever etched in my memory. She is the only person I’ve ever known to rally a team to run a half marathon for her milestone birthday. Unsure of her own age, she pulled out a calculator and confirmed she was 33 this year.

    During the conversations of her wedding plans for December, we started to reminisce on what life was like just a few years earlier. Romanticising the memories of spontaneity, being able to party until 2am and still get up for 6am run club and have accepted the fate of renting forever. 

    The themes of your life change quickly once you start to hit this phase. The odds of winning the lotto and being able to select a date in the same month to catch up with your group of friends are scarily similar.

    You watch girlfriends meticulously calculate the number of drinks they’ve had at lunch, not because they’ve got a few hours in the office afterwards – but they need to assess what time they can breastfeed again. You start to question caffeine after midday, know a surprising amount about the importance of gut health, and have a nighttime routine.

    Things start to have to make sense. Planning extends beyond what your agenda is from Friday night to Sunday afternoon, decisions start to hold more weight and you begin to oscillate between ‘YOLO’ and ‘does this align to my five year plan?’

    You also start to question if the acronyms you use are still relevant and start to reckon with the fact that maybe it isn’t appropriate to verbally respond with ‘lol’  during face to face conversations instead of laughing. 

    The charm naivety fades as the expectation of competence grows.

    So, consolidate your debt and superannuation accounts to avoid paying excessive interest and fees (while you’re at it check if you have income protection). Set up a payment plan for any fines and if they’re from tolls, open an E-Tag account to claim cash back. Regularly review your subscription services, and try to practice mindfulness as you navigate the inevitable waves of existential dread.

  • Honestly, what is trigonometry?

    Honestly, what is trigonometry?

    My parents never minced their words when it came to our education. They were adamant any cost associated with improving our life trajectory was worth the investment. Dad repeated this often, moving beyond mere sincerity, he was defiant.

    At fourteen, I didn’t understand the value in this, or need to continually harp on about it. At most, I saw it as an opportunity to drum up ideas of how to be an ‘educational spin’ on the irrelevant items I wanted. I was a cunning teenager, but given the fact I managed to swindle a total of zero things under the guise of strengthening learning pathways, reaffirms that skills for my career in communications and marketing developed later on. 

    I think most kids and teenagers see school and extracurriculars as just things you have to do. A checklist you work through because that’s what’s expected, with no real sense of choice. I never really saw my school years as the ‘foundations’ of my future, especially when the final years of high school barely reflect the life skills you actually need once you leave. Things like taxes, how to enrol to vote, financial wellbeing, how to apply for a rental, none of it’s covered.

    Granted, this experience isn’t universal. Some students have a 10-year plan mapped out from the moment they step through the school gates on orientation day in Year 7. These are usually the same people who, years later, politely stop themselves from rolling their eyes at me as I sit in a GP’s office rattling off a self-diagnosis from WebMD. I’m eternally grateful for their patience.

    Still, especially in the public school system, I don’t think we set young people up for success in their day-to-day lives. But hey, at least they can analyse and annotate a Robert Frost poem when they graduate.

    After almost 10 years in the property development industry, holding various roles, I started to wonder what was next, genuinely concerned I was about to pigeonhole myself into the sector. More than that, I was afraid I’d end up doing something “just because.” Just because it’s what I knew. Just because it paid well. Just because it was familiar. Just because my career and identity had become so closely intertwined.

    Then I read a few chapters of Who Gets to Be Smart by Bri Lee and something clicked. I knew I wanted to work on education reform, especially within the public school system. I started thinking about how I could pivot from my role at the time into this space. My first thought was to shadow the government affairs manager and enrol in a Bachelor of Social and Economic Policy at ANU in 2022.

    As life would have it, there was a company-wide restructure that saw 500 roles made redundant, mine included. I was lucky enough to be redeployed into a marketing manager position, and when the responsibilities piled up and talks began about hiring a marketing executive to support me, I knew it was time to go.

    I resigned. No job lined up. No five-year plan. Just a very clear sense that working in education was where I needed to be. And anything outside of that felt like a waste of everyone’s time, mine included.

    It was the first time I made a decision not based on a play by play plan, but on what I intuitively knew was right. The thought and consideration were still there, I’d just decided to choose the moment rather than wait for it.

    I think we carry a lot of self-imposed limitations, but there are also plenty handed to us through policy gaps and systemic failures.

    When I think about what strengthens a society, it always comes back to education. Most people aren’t asking for everything to be handed to them—they just want the tools to get where they need to be. Skills for self-improvement aren’t innate; they’re learned. Through education, we begin to understand how to challenge the systems that shape our lives, whether it’s internal processes or broader government structures. Relevant, accessible education gives people the power to take control.

    And when people feel in control of their lives? Well, how do you feel? If you’re employed, housed, and relatively stable in a time when interest rates rise faster than your wages, chances are you feel like you have some level of control.

    You might not feel totally fulfilled. The idea of filling up your car might still make you wince. But being able to manage the basics of life gives you a kind of freedom. I know, it’s wild to associate paying rent and income tax with freedom. But bear with me.

    When we can’t meet our base level needs, or when multiple issues start piling up, they compound. Quickly. And that’s how apathy, frustration, and a loss of control start to set in.

    Financial wellbeing. Understanding how to invest. Knowing where your super’s going. Comparing energy providers. Knowing what carbon offsetting is and how to find out if your provider does it. These are just some of the building blocks adults need to feel like they’re on steady ground.

    So what about young people?

    Equitable access to early education. The research is clear: kids who attend quality preschool programs are more likely to start school with the social, cognitive, and emotional skills they need to keep learning.

    And everything in between?

    Well, curriculum reform, for starters. Incorporate the evolution of technology. Reassess what maths we actually teach in secondary school. Maybe data literacy and understanding statistics matter more now than trigonometry.

    Early education. Relevant curriculum. Lifelong learning. Are my top three that come to mind.