September 14, 2025 • 18 mins
With the Emmy’s on today, we wanted to share Aaliyah-Jade Bradbury’s story, from working in a plumbing supply store to winning an Emmy.
Find and Tell is where First Nations storytellers step behind the mic to share raw, real, and unforgettable yarns. Hosted by Mundanara Bayles, Season 2 is packed with stories that are smart, sharp, and will stick with you long after the last laugh.
Follow the show: https://lnk.to/findandtell
NRMA Insurance, proud supporters of First Nations’ storytelling. Because that’s what a Help Company would do.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
I'd like to begin by acknowledging the traditional custodians of
the lands on which we've recorded this episode, and also
pay respect to the elders and communities of the many
lands where you, our listeners, are joining us today we
honor the continuing connection to country culture and story. Welcome
(00:25):
back to Find and Tell. I'm Mondanara Bales and this
is the podcast where First Nation storytellers take the mic
and tell it like it really is. Each episode we
follow a theme and our storytellers take us wherever that
theme leads. This episode, our theme is the road less traveled,
and no one walks that path quite like Aliah J.
Speaker 2 (00:47):
Bradbury.
Speaker 1 (00:48):
Aliah's story starts in a plumbing supply store and ends
with her becoming the first Tres Strait Islander woman to
win an international Emmy. But this isn't a fairy, it's
not overnight, it's not clean, it's raw, it's funny, and
it's proof that sometimes the scariest thing you can do
(01:09):
is listen to the voice that says you were made
for more. Let's get into it.
Speaker 3 (01:19):
I didn't know a single thing about plumbing, not a
bloody thing. Like if you were to ask me what
a flange was. Back then, I'd probably would have said
something dirty. But there I was, hair in a please at,
don't talk to me, but still caps on my feet,
name badge, sharp, serving trades, counting washes, filling out order
(01:39):
forms like I knew what I was doing, and for
a while I kind of did. I got good at it,
too good. I started anticipating people's knees, knowing which pipe
thread they would ask for even before they walked through
the door.
Speaker 2 (01:56):
And worst of all, I had the game.
Speaker 3 (01:58):
One of the boys and for Aladikia and a rubum
le girl who grew up in redfern with dancers, drag
queens and dreams of cinema. That was wild because deep
down I wasn't a plumbing girl. I was a two
thousand and six hundred generations storyteller trapped in a supply store.
(02:24):
My best friend at the time, she was built for
that world second gen trade, grew up with blueprints on
the fridge. Me I grew up dreaming about film sets,
fairy tales. I was a glam world building leo, raised
by a long line of fierce indigenous women, and yet
there I was fitting in where I didn't belong, becoming
(02:47):
fluent in a language of pipe fittings and product codes
while forgetting how to speak my own story. I don't
remember the exact day it happened, but I remember the feeling,
that sharp little ache in my chest that whispered, this
life is swallowing. You can a girl working in a
(03:09):
plumbing supply store really become an Emmy winning filmmaker?
Speaker 2 (03:15):
Well, spoiler avert.
Speaker 3 (03:18):
Yeah, but it took a clog pipe, a divine intervention,
and a hell of a lot of courage. There was
a time in my life I could tell you the
thread count of a tapwasher. I knew the difference between
a male thread and a BSB, and I could locate
(03:39):
a forty millimeter slipcap blindfolded. I didn't want to know
any of that, but I did, because at some point,
without realizing it, I got really good at being someone
I never meant to be, That someone worked in a
plumbing supply store. Now listen, there's no shade, God bless
(04:04):
the pipes. But me. I came from a long line
of storytellers, two six hundred generations of rhythm, drama, oral histories,
spirits and creativity in our blood, And somehow I found
myself in still caps, a Reese Polo and a name
badge that said Aliah Bradbury sells support if we're honest.
(04:29):
I took the job because I needed it and because
my best mate at the time worked there.
Speaker 2 (04:35):
Yeah that's fine, but it really wasn't for me.
Speaker 3 (04:41):
It started as survival, then it became routine, then became
weirdly addictive, like Stockholm syndrome, but make it trade core.
I'd wake up early, put my hair up in a
tight bun, put on my black jeans, and I'd walk
in there like I was born to self FLEXI hoses,
I anticipated customer needs. I built relationships with old blokes
(05:04):
and I said things like yeah, we can price smatch
that without flinching. There was a moment where they were
all eyeing me for a promotion, wanted to give me
the responsibility because I was a natural leader, and I
smiled and I nodded, and inside I felt like I
was drowning in navy blue. And just like that, I
(05:30):
stopped being curious. I stopped watching films. I stopped talking
about the future. Like I remember this one day when
somebody asked me what I did for fun.
Speaker 2 (05:43):
And I literally just.
Speaker 3 (05:46):
Blanked. My brain kind of just went blue screened. I
didn't know what to say, because who was I the
world builder, the girl who daydreamed on buses, the one
who used to sneak into the theater during intervals just
to watch the last act of the play. She was
come on, or at least quiet. And that's the weirdest part.
(06:12):
I wasn't even sad about it. I was just fine.
That kind of numbness is scarier than sadness because it
feels like peace, but really it's kind of just grief.
Wearing a high vis vest, I started doing things like
doing the stock take, counting pipes a Mandarin. I don't
(06:35):
even know how to speak Mandarin. I just know how
to count to ninety nine.
Speaker 2 (06:39):
But it made me.
Speaker 3 (06:40):
Feel clever, like I wasn't living in groundhog Day. I
used to whisper to myself in the aisles, this isn't forever.
You're not supposed to be here. It's going to get better.
But I didn't know how to leave or where to go,
or if I'd miss my chance. And that's the scariest part,
(07:03):
not knowing if the dream is still waiting for you
or it packed up and left while you were just
busy being responsible. There was this routine I had with
my best friendly every Thursday, Shark Beach, tucked into Nelson's
Park in Sydney's East. It's quiet, a little hidden, perfect
(07:26):
for two emotionally chaotic people who needed to pretend they
were fine just for the hour. We'd grab a couple
of drinks, maybe a couple of snacks, and we'd sit
on the sand and watch the sun melt into the
water like butter. He was going through his spiritual awakening phase,
which meant I was unofficially being dragged into it. We
(07:50):
talk about everything fate, masculinity, healing, and of course Rhianna's discography.
Speaker 2 (07:56):
But this one Thursday hit a little different.
Speaker 3 (08:02):
Liam brought his taro cards and I was like, oh,
oh no, because I'm black and I don't really mess
with spirits like that. But also, to be fair, I
kind of was a little bit desperate. Something in me
was craving an answer. I'd been in this slow motion
free for and I just needed something to catch me,
(08:24):
even if it came in the form of a flimsy
card and a sword wielding woman on a horse.
Speaker 2 (08:31):
So there we were two.
Speaker 3 (08:32):
Sun kissed widows on a beach, reading taro underneath a
pink sky, and as he laid the cards down, I.
Speaker 2 (08:42):
Felt the shift.
Speaker 3 (08:46):
I don't remember all the cards specifically, but I do
remember the feeling, the full, the tower, and the wheel.
(09:07):
Each one felt like a version of me. I'd been avoiding,
a mirror, a sign, a dare. It wasn't dramatic, but
it was kind of clear. I was at a crossroads
two paths, one made of certainty and the other endless possibilities,
(09:31):
and deep down I already knew which one was mine.
I think I just needed a permission, or a push,
or someone to look me in the eye and say,
you don't know anyone. Your smallness for someone who spent
their whole life telling stories, I'd somehow forgotten I could
(09:52):
write my own. And that was the moment. That was
the moment I realized I wasn't trying. I was just
afraid to make the first sentence count. I looked at
Liam and he smiled like he already knew He's always
been magic like that. I remember walking back to the
(10:16):
car that night, thinking, this life I'm living isn't the
only version that exists, And if I don't choose differently.
Speaker 2 (10:24):
Now I might forget I ever.
Speaker 3 (10:27):
Had a choice. That beach became a turning point. Not loud,
not big, but undeniable. That's how change happens, I think,
not with a bang, but with a quiet voice in
your chest whispering.
Speaker 2 (10:45):
Hey, what if it could be better than this? And
just like that, the.
Speaker 3 (10:52):
Girl in the race uniform started to remember the artist,
the dreamer, the world builder, the fem fairy warrior from
Redford who always believes.
Speaker 2 (11:01):
She was made for more.
Speaker 3 (11:03):
Next thing, I knew I had it in my resignation,
and suddenly the tap turned into a film.
Speaker 1 (11:11):
Real Welcome back to Find and Tell, as filmmaker Aliah
Jade Bradbury tackles the topic the road less traveled. Let's
get back into it, as Aliah Jade shares how a
single moment by the water changed everything.
Speaker 3 (11:31):
So, yeah, I left the job finally, And honestly, I
thought once I left, the universe would open up like, welcome,
creative girl, here's your four million dollar budget for a
film or a job on euphoria.
Speaker 2 (11:45):
Yeah.
Speaker 3 (11:46):
No, it didn't quite work out like that, but I
will say I had made the right decision, even when
the paychecks within even when I was just somebody's assistant again,
Even when I had no idea what I was doing
and I was googling what is a showrunner at two
am in my sharehouse bedroom, I knew I was on
(12:08):
the right path because finally I was back in motion.
Finally I could feel my brain coming alive again. I
had things to say, worlds to build, people to make
cry in the cinema, of course, in equipment, and over
time those tiny choices started stacking up. One day I
was volunteering at a screen event. The next day I
(12:29):
was doing a mental ship. Then came a production job,
then another, then another, and just like that, my first
real break came in the form of the documentary, A
documentary about an indigenous sized skater and his young Russian
pair skating partner. It was Harley A Katchier, and somewhere
(12:55):
between deadlines and rejection emails and can you just do
one more draft please, I found myself nominated for a
freaking International Emmy. It felt like the air around me shifted,
like all these years of dreaming suddenly folded in on themselves,
(13:17):
like the young girl in the plumbing shop uniform with
her hair in a please don't talk to me. Bun
had been seen, and let me tell you, for a
split second, it felt magical, sparkly, like something out of
a montage. Until I didn't get invited to the ceremony. Yeah,
(13:45):
I was nominated and I had won, but I wasn't there.
No red carpet, no media, no moment, just me in
Sydney getting a bunch of oh my god, congrats texts
before I even knew what happened.
Speaker 2 (14:07):
Shout out to my.
Speaker 3 (14:08):
Friend Kayleen, the true oracle, who messaged me first and
was like, did.
Speaker 2 (14:13):
You see boss? You freaking did it.
Speaker 3 (14:18):
I had to Google it to confirm it. Actually one
I was standing in a production office holding my phone
like it was radioactive. And then I cried because it
was so surreal, because I was proud, because I was tired,
because I made history and still wasn't invited to the party.
(14:45):
But you know what, that's okay, because I still won.
I still made history, the first Tory straight Islander to
win an Emmy, the first Aboriginal and Toro straight Islander
woman to do it, the first Melonie. Even even if
the world didn't see it, I did, and my community did,
(15:08):
and my family did, and somewhere. I think the version
of me who stayed at the plumbing store is doing
a little victory dance in still caps and glitter. This industry,
it's shiny, yeah, but it's also chaos. It's built on
determination and a little bit of madness and a hell
(15:30):
of a lot of heart. And I've got that. I'm
not here because everything was perfect. I'm here because I
kept it going, because I chose the uncertain path, because
I remember that I could write my own story, and
then I did. And if I could do that, maybe
(15:51):
someone listening can to. So Yeah, it turns out the
girl at the plumbing counter she had an Emmy in
her future, not because she had it all figured out,
not because she knew it was coming, but because she
dared to say, this isn't the whole story, this isn't
(16:13):
where it ends. I used to think the only people
who dreamed big were the ones born in the spotlight.
What I've learned, sometimes the most powerful kind of magic
happens when no one's watching. Sometimes the award doesn't come
with a red carpet. Sometimes it's the quiet decision to
(16:34):
not shrink, to take the risk, to show up for yourself.
So this is my message to you, whoever you are,
wherever you are, if you're sitting in a job that
doesn't fit, if your soul has.
Speaker 2 (16:48):
Been whispering, there's more.
Speaker 3 (16:51):
Don't wait for permission, don't wait to feel ready, because
maybe your plumbing supply store moment is the prog not
the plot to us. And maybe you don't need a map,
You just need the courage to leave the counter and
start walking. It won't always be clear, it definitely won't
always be glamorous, but if you listen close enough, you'll
(17:16):
hear it. That tap turning, that real beginning to spin.
That first frame of your story.
Speaker 1 (17:32):
That was Aleah Jade Bradbury storyteller, filmmaker and proud Larikia
and Miriam murv woman showing us what it means to
step into your power even when no one's watching. Her
story reminds us that the roadless traveled isn't always glamorous,
but it is where the magic happens, where you find
(17:53):
your voice, your courage, your people, yourself. Next episode, Micah
Kick is back, but this time he's not on stage.
He's on the road with his uncle Roger, heading back
to the mission. It's a powerful yarn about family memory
and reclaiming the stories that were almost lost. So hit follow,
(18:14):
share the love and join us next time for another
intimate and unforgettable story. I'm Ndan Arabos and this is
Find and Tell. Find and Tell is a co production
between iHeart Australia and the black Cast podcast network. Black
Cast empowers First Nations people and people of color to
reclaim their narratives, strength and cultural identity and contribute to
(18:38):
a more inclusive Australia by showcasing exciting emergent talent from
Australian communities.
I'd like to begin by acknowledging the traditional custodians of
the lands on which we've recorded this episode, and also
pay respect to the elders and communities of the many
lands where you, our listeners, are joining us today we
honor the continuing connection to country culture and story. Welcome
(00:25):
back to Find and Tell. I'm Mondanara Bales and this
is the podcast where First Nation storytellers take the mic
and tell it like it really is. Each episode we
follow a theme and our storytellers take us wherever that
theme leads. This episode, our theme is the road less traveled,
and no one walks that path quite like Aliah J.
Speaker 2 (00:47):
Bradbury.
Speaker 1 (00:48):
Aliah's story starts in a plumbing supply store and ends
with her becoming the first Tres Strait Islander woman to
win an international Emmy. But this isn't a fairy, it's
not overnight, it's not clean, it's raw, it's funny, and
it's proof that sometimes the scariest thing you can do
(01:09):
is listen to the voice that says you were made
for more. Let's get into it.
Speaker 3 (01:19):
I didn't know a single thing about plumbing, not a
bloody thing. Like if you were to ask me what
a flange was. Back then, I'd probably would have said
something dirty. But there I was, hair in a please at,
don't talk to me, but still caps on my feet,
name badge, sharp, serving trades, counting washes, filling out order
(01:39):
forms like I knew what I was doing, and for
a while I kind of did. I got good at it,
too good. I started anticipating people's knees, knowing which pipe
thread they would ask for even before they walked through
the door.
Speaker 2 (01:56):
And worst of all, I had the game.
Speaker 3 (01:58):
One of the boys and for Aladikia and a rubum
le girl who grew up in redfern with dancers, drag
queens and dreams of cinema. That was wild because deep
down I wasn't a plumbing girl. I was a two
thousand and six hundred generations storyteller trapped in a supply store.
(02:24):
My best friend at the time, she was built for
that world second gen trade, grew up with blueprints on
the fridge. Me I grew up dreaming about film sets,
fairy tales. I was a glam world building leo, raised
by a long line of fierce indigenous women, and yet
there I was fitting in where I didn't belong, becoming
(02:47):
fluent in a language of pipe fittings and product codes
while forgetting how to speak my own story. I don't
remember the exact day it happened, but I remember the feeling,
that sharp little ache in my chest that whispered, this
life is swallowing. You can a girl working in a
(03:09):
plumbing supply store really become an Emmy winning filmmaker?
Speaker 2 (03:15):
Well, spoiler avert.
Speaker 3 (03:18):
Yeah, but it took a clog pipe, a divine intervention,
and a hell of a lot of courage. There was
a time in my life I could tell you the
thread count of a tapwasher. I knew the difference between
a male thread and a BSB, and I could locate
(03:39):
a forty millimeter slipcap blindfolded. I didn't want to know
any of that, but I did, because at some point,
without realizing it, I got really good at being someone
I never meant to be, That someone worked in a
plumbing supply store. Now listen, there's no shade, God bless
(04:04):
the pipes. But me. I came from a long line
of storytellers, two six hundred generations of rhythm, drama, oral histories,
spirits and creativity in our blood, And somehow I found
myself in still caps, a Reese Polo and a name
badge that said Aliah Bradbury sells support if we're honest.
(04:29):
I took the job because I needed it and because
my best mate at the time worked there.
Speaker 2 (04:35):
Yeah that's fine, but it really wasn't for me.
Speaker 3 (04:41):
It started as survival, then it became routine, then became
weirdly addictive, like Stockholm syndrome, but make it trade core.
I'd wake up early, put my hair up in a
tight bun, put on my black jeans, and I'd walk
in there like I was born to self FLEXI hoses,
I anticipated customer needs. I built relationships with old blokes
(05:04):
and I said things like yeah, we can price smatch
that without flinching. There was a moment where they were
all eyeing me for a promotion, wanted to give me
the responsibility because I was a natural leader, and I
smiled and I nodded, and inside I felt like I
was drowning in navy blue. And just like that, I
(05:30):
stopped being curious. I stopped watching films. I stopped talking
about the future. Like I remember this one day when
somebody asked me what I did for fun.
Speaker 2 (05:43):
And I literally just.
Speaker 3 (05:46):
Blanked. My brain kind of just went blue screened. I
didn't know what to say, because who was I the
world builder, the girl who daydreamed on buses, the one
who used to sneak into the theater during intervals just
to watch the last act of the play. She was
come on, or at least quiet. And that's the weirdest part.
(06:12):
I wasn't even sad about it. I was just fine.
That kind of numbness is scarier than sadness because it
feels like peace, but really it's kind of just grief.
Wearing a high vis vest, I started doing things like
doing the stock take, counting pipes a Mandarin. I don't
(06:35):
even know how to speak Mandarin. I just know how
to count to ninety nine.
Speaker 2 (06:39):
But it made me.
Speaker 3 (06:40):
Feel clever, like I wasn't living in groundhog Day. I
used to whisper to myself in the aisles, this isn't forever.
You're not supposed to be here. It's going to get better.
But I didn't know how to leave or where to go,
or if I'd miss my chance. And that's the scariest part,
(07:03):
not knowing if the dream is still waiting for you
or it packed up and left while you were just
busy being responsible. There was this routine I had with
my best friendly every Thursday, Shark Beach, tucked into Nelson's
Park in Sydney's East. It's quiet, a little hidden, perfect
(07:26):
for two emotionally chaotic people who needed to pretend they
were fine just for the hour. We'd grab a couple
of drinks, maybe a couple of snacks, and we'd sit
on the sand and watch the sun melt into the
water like butter. He was going through his spiritual awakening phase,
which meant I was unofficially being dragged into it. We
(07:50):
talk about everything fate, masculinity, healing, and of course Rhianna's discography.
Speaker 2 (07:56):
But this one Thursday hit a little different.
Speaker 3 (08:02):
Liam brought his taro cards and I was like, oh,
oh no, because I'm black and I don't really mess
with spirits like that. But also, to be fair, I
kind of was a little bit desperate. Something in me
was craving an answer. I'd been in this slow motion
free for and I just needed something to catch me,
(08:24):
even if it came in the form of a flimsy
card and a sword wielding woman on a horse.
Speaker 2 (08:31):
So there we were two.
Speaker 3 (08:32):
Sun kissed widows on a beach, reading taro underneath a
pink sky, and as he laid the cards down, I.
Speaker 2 (08:42):
Felt the shift.
Speaker 3 (08:46):
I don't remember all the cards specifically, but I do
remember the feeling, the full, the tower, and the wheel.
(09:07):
Each one felt like a version of me. I'd been avoiding,
a mirror, a sign, a dare. It wasn't dramatic, but
it was kind of clear. I was at a crossroads
two paths, one made of certainty and the other endless possibilities,
(09:31):
and deep down I already knew which one was mine.
I think I just needed a permission, or a push,
or someone to look me in the eye and say,
you don't know anyone. Your smallness for someone who spent
their whole life telling stories, I'd somehow forgotten I could
(09:52):
write my own. And that was the moment. That was
the moment I realized I wasn't trying. I was just
afraid to make the first sentence count. I looked at
Liam and he smiled like he already knew He's always
been magic like that. I remember walking back to the
(10:16):
car that night, thinking, this life I'm living isn't the
only version that exists, And if I don't choose differently.
Speaker 2 (10:24):
Now I might forget I ever.
Speaker 3 (10:27):
Had a choice. That beach became a turning point. Not loud,
not big, but undeniable. That's how change happens, I think,
not with a bang, but with a quiet voice in
your chest whispering.
Speaker 2 (10:45):
Hey, what if it could be better than this? And
just like that, the.
Speaker 3 (10:52):
Girl in the race uniform started to remember the artist,
the dreamer, the world builder, the fem fairy warrior from
Redford who always believes.
Speaker 2 (11:01):
She was made for more.
Speaker 3 (11:03):
Next thing, I knew I had it in my resignation,
and suddenly the tap turned into a film.
Speaker 1 (11:11):
Real Welcome back to Find and Tell, as filmmaker Aliah
Jade Bradbury tackles the topic the road less traveled. Let's
get back into it, as Aliah Jade shares how a
single moment by the water changed everything.
Speaker 3 (11:31):
So, yeah, I left the job finally, And honestly, I
thought once I left, the universe would open up like, welcome,
creative girl, here's your four million dollar budget for a
film or a job on euphoria.
Speaker 2 (11:45):
Yeah.
Speaker 3 (11:46):
No, it didn't quite work out like that, but I
will say I had made the right decision, even when
the paychecks within even when I was just somebody's assistant again,
Even when I had no idea what I was doing
and I was googling what is a showrunner at two
am in my sharehouse bedroom, I knew I was on
(12:08):
the right path because finally I was back in motion.
Finally I could feel my brain coming alive again. I
had things to say, worlds to build, people to make
cry in the cinema, of course, in equipment, and over
time those tiny choices started stacking up. One day I
was volunteering at a screen event. The next day I
(12:29):
was doing a mental ship. Then came a production job,
then another, then another, and just like that, my first
real break came in the form of the documentary, A
documentary about an indigenous sized skater and his young Russian
pair skating partner. It was Harley A Katchier, and somewhere
(12:55):
between deadlines and rejection emails and can you just do
one more draft please, I found myself nominated for a
freaking International Emmy. It felt like the air around me shifted,
like all these years of dreaming suddenly folded in on themselves,
(13:17):
like the young girl in the plumbing shop uniform with
her hair in a please don't talk to me. Bun
had been seen, and let me tell you, for a
split second, it felt magical, sparkly, like something out of
a montage. Until I didn't get invited to the ceremony. Yeah,
(13:45):
I was nominated and I had won, but I wasn't there.
No red carpet, no media, no moment, just me in
Sydney getting a bunch of oh my god, congrats texts
before I even knew what happened.
Speaker 2 (14:07):
Shout out to my.
Speaker 3 (14:08):
Friend Kayleen, the true oracle, who messaged me first and
was like, did.
Speaker 2 (14:13):
You see boss? You freaking did it.
Speaker 3 (14:18):
I had to Google it to confirm it. Actually one
I was standing in a production office holding my phone
like it was radioactive. And then I cried because it
was so surreal, because I was proud, because I was tired,
because I made history and still wasn't invited to the party.
(14:45):
But you know what, that's okay, because I still won.
I still made history, the first Tory straight Islander to
win an Emmy, the first Aboriginal and Toro straight Islander
woman to do it, the first Melonie. Even even if
the world didn't see it, I did, and my community did,
(15:08):
and my family did, and somewhere. I think the version
of me who stayed at the plumbing store is doing
a little victory dance in still caps and glitter. This industry,
it's shiny, yeah, but it's also chaos. It's built on
determination and a little bit of madness and a hell
(15:30):
of a lot of heart. And I've got that. I'm
not here because everything was perfect. I'm here because I
kept it going, because I chose the uncertain path, because
I remember that I could write my own story, and
then I did. And if I could do that, maybe
(15:51):
someone listening can to. So Yeah, it turns out the
girl at the plumbing counter she had an Emmy in
her future, not because she had it all figured out,
not because she knew it was coming, but because she
dared to say, this isn't the whole story, this isn't
(16:13):
where it ends. I used to think the only people
who dreamed big were the ones born in the spotlight.
What I've learned, sometimes the most powerful kind of magic
happens when no one's watching. Sometimes the award doesn't come
with a red carpet. Sometimes it's the quiet decision to
(16:34):
not shrink, to take the risk, to show up for yourself.
So this is my message to you, whoever you are,
wherever you are, if you're sitting in a job that
doesn't fit, if your soul has.
Speaker 2 (16:48):
Been whispering, there's more.
Speaker 3 (16:51):
Don't wait for permission, don't wait to feel ready, because
maybe your plumbing supply store moment is the prog not
the plot to us. And maybe you don't need a map,
You just need the courage to leave the counter and
start walking. It won't always be clear, it definitely won't
always be glamorous, but if you listen close enough, you'll
(17:16):
hear it. That tap turning, that real beginning to spin.
That first frame of your story.
Speaker 1 (17:32):
That was Aleah Jade Bradbury storyteller, filmmaker and proud Larikia
and Miriam murv woman showing us what it means to
step into your power even when no one's watching. Her
story reminds us that the roadless traveled isn't always glamorous,
but it is where the magic happens, where you find
(17:53):
your voice, your courage, your people, yourself. Next episode, Micah
Kick is back, but this time he's not on stage.
He's on the road with his uncle Roger, heading back
to the mission. It's a powerful yarn about family memory
and reclaiming the stories that were almost lost. So hit follow,
(18:14):
share the love and join us next time for another
intimate and unforgettable story. I'm Ndan Arabos and this is
Find and Tell. Find and Tell is a co production
between iHeart Australia and the black Cast podcast network. Black
Cast empowers First Nations people and people of color to
reclaim their narratives, strength and cultural identity and contribute to
(18:38):
a more inclusive Australia by showcasing exciting emergent talent from
Australian communities.
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