"You'll never be local": Finding your place in a rural town

They say rural towns are known for three things:

1.???? Their sense of community and remarkable ability to ‘rally’ around their own, especially when the chips are down.

2.???? Unless you were born locally (and have five generations of family buried in the cemetery) you’ll never be ‘local’.

3.???? Rural towns can be notoriously difficult to ‘break in’ to. But once you do, #2 is largely redundant.

I’ve never been happier living where I do, and I attribute this to a sense of connection I’ve been unable to find anywhere else. Having experienced substantial personal change in 2024, I’ve never found so much support (and love) from a community - other than my own family. I’m lucky, I know.

But I’ve worked hard to earn my place.

For the first couple of years after my husband and I moved to Heathcote, we struggled to fit in. We don’t drink, don’t have children, and don’t play sport. The trifecta, albeit stereotypical, is currency.

Then in 2019, the coin flipped; I became the local journalist.

Overnight (it seemed) everyone knew who I was. I couldn’t even visit the post office without people pitching a story. Relationships started to develop and the stories flowed in. One of my favourite articles was an obituary. Frank moved to Heathcote from the Netherlands post WW2 and established a drapery business. He was known for his kind and unassuming nature and used a pushbike to visit customers. With no immediate family, he befriended a young family. I will never forget speaking to one of the children, now an adult. Hearing about the impact Frank had not just on her life, but also her children was so moving. It was a privilege to publish her story.

The drapery building still exists, but is now a private residence. Each time I drive past, I glance into the driveway and see Frank's rusted bike hanging against the shed. It’s experiences like these that make me feel like I’m part of something. That I know intimate, important stories that make Heathcote what it is.

For this reason, rural storytelling and journalism is critically important.

These publications do maintain local democracy, but they also create a sense of place. Rural newspapers document history and preserve local memory. With the closure of so many regional papers, I often wonder what the long-term impact will be. But like it or not, change is afoot in our little towns. Good, bad, or otherwise, it’s happening faster than you think. But that’s something to explore in another instalment(s).

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Thank you for reading this edition of "City girl turned Country". Stay tuned for the next instalment in about a week.

One of the reasons I'm writing this - beyond sharing my #treechange experiences - is because I'm looking for a job from January 2025!

Can you help me? Referrals are welcome.

My purpose (and dare I say it, passion), is bringing people together to create better social and economic outcomes. What that looks like: leadership roles in communications, community / stakeholder engagement and community development.

I live near Bendigo, Vic, but I am open to remote work and travel. Possibly relocation for the right role, too. Thank you!

e: [email protected].