Lessons in Community Service and Personal Growth

World Traveller Series III ~ Relationships ~ Episode 9

by Brett Hayhoe

Introduction

For most of my life I was, by pure accident of geography, a big fish in a small pond. Through my late teens and into my early twenties I was compering the lion’s share of events and functions in my hometown, holding down a high-profile media job, and running my own monthly networking luncheon alongside an entertainment agency once I’d left that job behind. I was also, it should be said, pocketing a fairly reasonable reward for the privilege.

As I’ve covered in a previous episode, coming out was meant to be the end of all that — at least according to the hometown in question.

Moving to Melbourne was simultaneously one of the best and one of the worst decisions I have ever made. I don’t regret it. I do, however, wish someone had handed me a rough guide to what to do and, more usefully, what not to do. The job at JOY FM elevated me almost immediately from big fish in a small pond to medium-sized fish in a considerably larger one.

The Invitations

That was when the invitations started arriving — to join boards, committees, advisory panels, the works. I had, without quite noticing the door close behind me, entered the thankless world of community service.

At one point, “Brett, is there a board you don’t sit on?” became something people asked with a straight face and I answered with only slight exaggeration. PLWHA Victoria, the advocacy organisation for people living with HIV. The VGLRL, the gay and lesbian rights lobby. Pride March Victoria. The Attorney-General’s Advisory Committee on LGBTIQA+ community issues. NAPWA, the national HIV advocacy body. GALTA, the gay and lesbian travel and tourism association. And so the list continued. If there was a table worth having a seat at, I generally had one — or at the very least knew precisely how to find out, or knew someone who already had theirs.

In hindsight, the community regarded my position in life as considerably more influential than I ever did myself. My view has always been a simple one: if you identify as a member of a community, and you’re capable and willing, you do whatever you can to support it. Community service was never a task I performed. It was simply something one does.

The Long Middle — and the Cost of It

As it turned out, I peaked rather early. The twelve years I served on the board of InterPride, the international Pride organisation, are a case in point. It was meaningful work and I don’t regret a moment of it — but it also facilitated a slow disconnect from my own community back in Melbourne. I lost touch with a great number of people over that stretch, and I learned, the hard way, an unglamorous truth: if people stop seeing you regularly at functions, they forget you. Not maliciously. Just efficiently.

After leaving the InterPride board — constitutional term limits, not choice — I redirected my community service obligations, briefly, into the political arena. I became Chairman and President of a political organisation in my local area, took a seat on a local council advisory committee, held senior executive positions across several offshoot branches of the same organisation, and rejoined the VGLRL board for good measure. Old habits, evidently, do not require much encouragement.

The Turn

And then came my major illness in 2023, which altered the entire shape of my life in ways I didn’t fully register at the time. The after-effects are still limiting my capacity to work and earn an income. I’ve become something of a hermit, spending the better part of every day on my own in my apartment, and my community engagement has narrowed down to the local branch of my party — which, I discovered, I still needed. Some form of human contact turned out to be non-negotiable, even for a confirmed hermit.

Conclusion — No Expectations, No Disappointments

At the end of all of it, I hold no regrets over the work I did for my community. I learned early on that if you’re doing this kind of thing for thanks or praise, you will be bitterly disappointed — so “no expectations, no disappointments” became something close to a personal mantra. Whether people appreciated the sheer volume of work, or registered the toll it took on my physical and mental wellbeing, was never really the point. I did it for the right reasons, and I know it made a difference. That will have to be enough, because it always was.

The World Traveller Series is written and produced by Brett Hayhoe — publisher, editor and administrator of Q Magazine.

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