First Nations Peer Workforce Spotlight
Name: Kendi Reardon
Country/Community/Mob: Malyangapa mob, with a lifelong connection to Wilyakali Country, Broken Hill, NSW
Role: Aboriginal Mental Health and Wellbeing Peer Worker, Far West Local Health District (FWLHD), NSW Health
Yarn From the Workforce
We are the experts in our own right
As an Aboriginal Mental Health and Wellbeing Peer Worker with Far West Local Health District (FWLHD), I’m passionate about the difference peer work makes, not only for the people we support but for our families and communities as a whole.
Every day I go to work, there can be a fear of hearing a comment or receiving a request that devalues the peer worker role and the expertise we bring. I remind myself that I’m in this role because I struggled, and if I’d had someone like me or a peer worker beside me back then, I might not have had to struggle so much or feel so alone. Our support has a positive ripple effect throughout our communities. Sometimes, we just have to keep swimming.
Having a mentor who I can go to for absolutely anything has made a huge difference. She has been my rock, and I believe everyone needs at least one person like that in their corner. I’ve also found it incredibly uplifting to see our local peer workforce grow and to connect with other peer workers who understand the work we do.
I also want to acknowledge the support I’ve received in my own workplace. I’ve been supported in my substantive role to complete my Certificate IV in Mental Health Peer Work and my Aboriginal Health Practitioner qualification, become an Aboriginal Mental Health First Aid Facilitator, act in a Senior Peer role and take on higher duties as a manager at the Mental Health Prevention and Rehabilitation Centre (MHPARC), among many other opportunities. I’m now being supported to complete the Peer Leadership Skillset through the Mental Health Coordinating Council (MHCC).
These opportunities have helped me grow both professionally and personally, and I’m genuinely grateful to work in an environment where I’ve been encouraged to learn, develop and step into new challenges. I love my workplace and the opportunities it has provided me. I think it’s important to recognise what can happen when peer workers are supported to grow, trusted with responsibility and given genuine opportunities to lead.
At the same time, I know this isn’t always the experience of peer workers everywhere. We aren’t always recognised for our worth and expertise. Sometimes peer workers are treated as a fill-in when a clinician doesn’t have time or are asked to take on tasks that don’t reflect the purpose of our role, such as simply acting as a taxi driver. Peer work is much more than that. Our lived experience, relationships, connection and ability to walk alongside people are valuable in their own right.
I’d like to see stronger cultural support in workplaces, including senior people who can provide guidance, safe spaces for peer workers to yarn and debrief, and clearly defined roles and models of care. Peer workers shouldn’t be left with the message, “We had funding, so we filled the position. We don’t know what you do, so you figure it out.” We deserve clarity, support and recognition as skilled members of the workforce.
Wisdom From Mob
Finding home through culture, Country and connection
One of the things that helps me stay grounded is making time to connect with nature, Country and myself. In my work, I spend a lot of time supporting others, and I think it’s just as important to make space to slow down, reconnect with ourselves and look after our own spirit and wellbeing.
I regularly travel for outreach to Menindee and/or Wilcannia, and whenever I can, I make time to sit by the river, take in the surroundings and practise Dadirri — deep listening, stillness and quiet awareness. There is something about being near the water, feeling the breeze and simply being present on Country that helps me slow down and reconnect. We can spend so much time responding to the needs of others that we sometimes forget the importance of allowing ourselves the time and space to just be.
My mob are Malyangapa, and I was born and have lived my whole life in Broken Hill, with a lifelong connection to Wilyakali Country. My own journey with culture hasn’t always been easy. Being light-skinned, I’ve experienced comments and judgement from other mob that have hurt my heart and spirit. My lived experience also kept me away from culture for a large part of my life, even though there was always an ache in me to go home and feel that connection.
Reconnecting with culture has helped me find that sense of home. It has taught me how important it is to feel connected, to understand who you are and to be able to explore your identity without fear of judgement.
That experience is part of what drives me in my work. I want people to feel safe exploring their identity, finding connection and understanding that they don’t have to navigate those feelings alone. I want to help create spaces where people feel accepted, heard and supported in their own journey.
For me, connection to culture, Country and nature can be a powerful part of nurturing our spirit and wellbeing. Sometimes, we need to step away from the noise, sit quietly, listen and give ourselves permission to simply be. Looking after ourselves is important, too, especially when so much of our work is about caring for others.
What’s on Your Mind?
Bring the conversation out to the Far West
I’d love to see a general mental health conference held in Broken Hill or Wilcannia that brings people from the city out to our communities, rather than expecting everyone from the regions to travel elsewhere to be heard.
FWLHD covers an enormous geographical area, with communities separated by hundreds of kilometres. Distance, access to services, workforce shortages and the realities of living and working in remote and regional communities all shape how mental health support is delivered. What works in the big smoke doesn’t always translate to our communities, and the people making decisions need to understand that.
I’d like to see a conference that brings together community members, peer workers, frontline staff, clinicians, leaders and decision-makers. Most importantly, it needs to create genuine opportunities for community members to share their views, experiences and needs, so they can help shape the mental health services that affect their lives. Our communities should not simply be spoken about; they should have a real say in what support looks like and what needs to change.
I’d also like to see more pathways for local and regional workers to progress into senior and leadership roles without having to leave home and move to the city. We have skilled, passionate people working in our communities who understand the local context because they live it every day. They deserve opportunities to develop, lead and influence the future of mental health services right here in the regions.
A conference like this could be an opportunity to listen, share knowledge, build relationships and bring community voices and workforce experience into the same conversation. It could also give city-based leaders and workers a better understanding of the strengths, challenges and needs of the Far West.
Our communities deserve a voice in shaping their mental health services, and our local workforce deserves opportunities to shape the future of those services. We shouldn't have to leave home to be heard, to progress or to lead.