Hailing from New South Wales myself, this leg of the Listening Tour was particularly personal. Returning to my home state provided an invaluable opportunity to reconnect with my own communities – those whose stories I grew up hearing, and whose struggles are familiar to me. However, even within the spaces I know so well, I was confronted with new perspectives and insights. The conversations with young people across Sydney and Bathurst were not only affirming of the challenges I had already recognised but also offered profound lessons that expanded my understanding of the systemic issues they face. From greater Sydney to Central West NSW, I encountered a wide spectrum of perspectives shaped by geography, socioeconomic background, cultural identity, and systemic interaction. The conversations revealed not only the challenges young people face, but the structural conditions that produce those challenges – and the capacity young people have to name, navigate, and respond to them.

At Sancta Sophia College, students from regional and rural areas spoke candidly about the barriers to accessing higher education. Many noted that pathway programs exist, but are often unknown due to poor advertising and limited outreach. “Most people in Coffs stay in Coffs or go to Newcastle,” one student shared, underscoring how aspiration is often constrained by information gaps, not ambition. Another added, “The only reason people knew about the college was through personal connections –  schools aren’t equipped with this kind of information.” What emerged was a picture of circularity – where access depends on existing networks and knowledge that many students, particularly from low-SES schools, simply don’t have.

The students also reflected on gender and participation. Some found that being in a single-gender residential college had encouraged more active involvement and leadership. “Girls get more involved when boys aren’t watching,” one said, suggesting that these spaces can play a role in building confidence in environments where women often feel spoken over or underrepresented.

The pressures of cost of living and job scarcity also came up repeatedly. One student shared that 850 people had applied for a single part-time role. Others reported students sleeping in 24-hour libraries due to the lack of affordable student accommodation. These conditions reflect more than financial strain – they point to the widening gap between the expectations we place on young people and the infrastructure available to support them.

In Bathurst, young people spoke to the practical constraints of growing up in a regional area. Public transport was a consistent concern. Students described switching bus companies to attend different schools or being unable to pursue subject preferences due to staffing shortages. “Our art teacher was having to teach maths,” one student explained. Limited options were compounded by digital inequity – many had to study online, without the same access to in-person resources or specialist support. One student described the feeling of being “trapped in a bubble” due to inadequate infrastructure. Others noted that despite Newcastle surpassing Sydney’s population over a century ago, its transport systems remain deeply underdeveloped. These barriers were seen not just as personal inconveniences, but as systemic issues with long-term consequences for education and mobility.

At Wayside Chapel, I engaged with young people experiencing homelessness, addiction, and social isolation. The service’s low-barrier, community-oriented model provides a sense of safety and consistency that many described as rare. One young person shared, “You don’t have to be sober, calm, or dressed to be here –  just come as you are.” The emphasis on lived experience over formal qualifications was also noteworthy. One staff member told me, “It’s not the training that makes us competent –  it’s the lived experience that makes us trustworthy.” This model, centred on mutual respect and belonging, highlighted the importance of service environments that meet young people where they are –  not where policy says they should be.

Access to mental health support was a recurring concern across consultations. Young people reported long wait times, lack of continuity in care, and the prevalence of short-term, medication-based interventions. In some areas, caseworkers are so overstretched that wait times extend for months. Others spoke of navigating systems where they had to “prove” the unsafety of their home environment just to access basic support. These stories raise critical questions about the accessibility, equity, and responsiveness of youth mental health and housing services.

The consultation with Sound Expression, a music therapy service for young people with disabilities, surfaced issues of inclusion, therapeutic value, and systemic misrecognition. For many children who are non-verbal or have complex disabilities, music therapy offers one of the few modes of self-expression and regulation available to them. “Without music,” one therapist explained, “you are cutting their voice.”

Yet recent changes to the NDIS pricing guide threaten the viability of these services. The reclassification of music therapy as an “activity,” combined with a two-thirds reduction in funding, has placed both providers and families under pressure. These changes reflect a broader challenge within disability policy: a tendency to prioritise what can be easily quantified over what is demonstrably meaningful. Parents and therapists described how group sessions build social connection, community belonging, and developmental outcomes across multiple domains. As one parent noted, “Saturday mornings in music therapy change the rest of the day at home.” In other words, the impacts are both functional and relational –  yet difficult to capture using narrow outcome metrics. But the issue runs deeper than just funding cuts. Families additionally described NDIS planners with little to no disability training, asking offensive questions like, “Does your son still have autism?” and “Does your son still have Down syndrome?” One parent said it plainly: “These planners hold the fates of families in their hands – but they won’t listen.”

At Headspace Camperdown, young people spoke thoughtfully about the intersections between mental health, political engagement, and economic insecurity. Several described the pressure to solve long standing societal problems with insufficient tools or support. “We’re being asked to fix the problems of the past without being given the tools to do so,” one participant said. Another described their generation as “exhausted.” The relationship between social infrastructure and daily life was made clear when a young person remarked, “Why are the most expensive stores in Redfern? We need an Aldi.” It was a pointed reflection on how gentrification reshapes the most basic elements of one’s neighbourhood –  from access to food, to the broader sense of belonging within a community.

The UN Youth NSW State Conference, which brought together over 180 young people, created space for a national and international framing of these issues. I am especially grateful to UN Youth NSW for inviting me to join and consult in this space. Young people spoke about the effectiveness of the Sustainable Development Goals, the rise of misinformation, the increasing polarisation of political discourse, and the social and ethical implications of artificial intelligence. There was a strong desire for more political education –  especially content that is accessible, non-partisan, and critical. Some participants reflected on the difficulty of distinguishing credible information from misinformation in online spaces, and how this contributes to disengagement, particularly among young people from culturally and linguistically diverse communities.

Across all of these conversations, what emerged most strongly was not a call for surface-level reform, but a quiet and consistent demand for something deeper: meaningful inclusion. Young people were not simply asking to be consulted –  they were articulating the need for systems that reflect the complexity of their lives.

They weren’t only identifying what is broken –  they were imagining what could be built in its place. Whether it was valuing music and art therapy not as peripheral, but as essential; embedding lived experience into service design; or recognising how class, geography, and cultural identity shape access and opportunity, young people are already thinking in the terms that policy often struggles to catch up with. Their insights call us to move beyond efficiency and measurement, and toward systems that centre dignity, belonging, and justice.

What I heard in New South Wales affirmed that young people are already leading in the spaces between systems –  asking the hard questions, building relationships of care, and holding institutions to account. Their reflections are not just a mirror of what is lacking; they are a blueprint for what is possible when young people are genuinely trusted, resourced, and heard.

As I look ahead to the regional consultations in New South Wales later this May, I do so with a deeper sense of what it means to listen – to be present not just to the problems young people face, but to the wisdom they carry. I’m looking forward to continuing these conversations in new places, with new voices, and carrying these truths with me as this journey unfolds.