We moved to a suburb with a bad rep. Then we forgot to lock the house and car

When I tell people where I live, I am usually met with comments like: “Oh, OK. What’s it like there?” Or, “I’ve heard it’s really improved”. Or, “Oh, that was a smart buy.”

But I’ve come to learn that these are coded remarks for, “Is it still the arse end of Melbourne?” and “Why in god’s name would you consider raising a family out there!”

The truth lies somewhere in between.

Sunshine has a bright name but a bad reputation. It is well known, but not for the right reasons. It is mentioned on the news in the same breath as Dandenong and Springvale, and YouTubers and TikTokers come here to film content with titles like: “Inside Melbourne’s most dangerous suburb”.

Yes, drugs, homelessness and crime have been a part of Sunshine’s post-industrial story, which peaked in the late ’90s and early 2000s. While I can’t say those problems have been eradicated, things are definitely moving in the right direction.

Our Sunshine story started five years ago when we outgrew our Ascot Vale two-bedder with no backyard and looked for a bigger block to put down roots. We wanted to stay west and were open-minded about where, but after a decade on busy Epsom Road, non-negotiables included a quiet street, backyard, three bedrooms and a community vibe. Walking distance to school was a bonus. We optimistically looked to luxe neighbourhoods like WEFO (West Footscray), Seddon and the villes – Yarra and Kings – but couldn’t find anything we could afford.

Then, with baby No.3 looming, I found a house in Sunshine that met all our criteria. But I knew nothing of the suburb, other than the mythology. Maybe it has changed, I wondered.

“Trust me, you don’t want to move to Sunshine,” warned a colleague. “Unless you want to get stabbed.”

But I held on to the thought of the nearby Sunshine station and Dan and Jacinta in hard hats promising a boom via Airport Rail – and overlooked the fact that politicians have been pledging similar things since 1970.

So I ignored my colleague, vigilantly checked the locking mechanisms on the windows and doors and bidded so enthusiastically that I am yet to see a similar property in our area go for that price.

This suburb has been full of surprises. From our backyard, I can see the giant silos that tower over Parson’s Reserve, home of Albion footy club and Grand United Cricket Club. Having grown up in country Victoria, I find the reminder of the suburb’s agricultural past comforting. This semblance to the bush is probably why the silos feature as the backdrop to the AAMI clangers commercial that is played ad nauseam between goals on the TV.

Agriculture is at the heart of Sunshine’s story. In 1906, industrialist HV McKay chose this area west of Melbourne to build what would become the largest manufacturing plant in Australia, employing 3000 people. Its chief export, the Sunshine Harvester, became so synonymous with the suburb that its name was changed from Braybrook Junction to Sunshine.

The factory was demolished in 1992 to make way for the development of Sunshine Marketplace, which makes Sunshine Marketplace sound a lot better than it is. This is a shopping centre so underwhelming that Big W and Skechers are considered highlights. A few years ago, locals became very upset when the shopping centre’s Millennium Man mascot – a Roman figure holding a globe – was removed.

“A lot of people that grew up in Sunshine have an emotional connection to him,” one local told the press when it was being removed in 2020. “They played near him, they met their parents there and he’s a reminder of their childhood; in fact, he’s been there long enough that those that were kids when he went in now have kids of their own, and so it continues.”

We still have one quirky piece of street art. Affectionately known as “The Man Pushing Up the Cow”, it’s in front of Sunshine’s busiest Banh Mi hangout, Fresh Chilli Deli. No one seems to know where it came from or what it represents, but it has become a much-loved part of the recent facelift at the Hampshire Road strip.

Outsiders usually come to Sunshine for the food (or to make YouTube videos). Some of Melbourne’s best Vietnamese food can be found on Hampshire Road, but locals know that each restaurant specialises in different regions of Vietnamese cuisine. One of our favourites is Xuan Banh Cuon, which focuses on northern cuisine and is always chockers. And then there are the street food options for banh mi (our pick is Fresh Chilli Deli) and pho (Pho Hien Saigon).

While Vietnamese is undoubtedly the dominant cuisine here, Ethiopian and Middle Eastern are making a charge. When refugee chef Hamed Allahyari fled Iran in 2012, his first job in Australia was serving 200 meals a day at the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre in Footscray. This led to an opportunity to start Salamatea near Sunshine station, which employs other refugees in hospitality. Late last year, he opened his latest venture Kababi – a nod to his Iranian roots – which serves mouth-watering high-end kebabs and other Persian delights.

So, is Sunshine safe? Yes, it has improved since the days when Carl Williams and his droogs used to hang out at Tony’s opposite the Dirty Derry (Derrimut Hotel). But I wouldn’t say it’s booming, either.

An increase in petty theft has Sunshine’s crime rate trending upwards (like many places in Melbourne), making headlines when a boy was tragically stabbed at Sunshine station just two years ago. But locals will tell you that the general trend is in the other direction. Despite forgetting to lock the house and car on more than one occasion, my family hasn’t witnessed a single crime-related incident in the five years we’ve lived here. Have we just been lucky?

I sometimes see incidents of home invasions in more affluent suburbs on social media and think that perhaps all the criminals aren’t interested in us out in the west. We have a pretty good online community that looks out for each other. On Facebook’s 3020 Exchange, people post videos of strangers approaching their door in the night with bright fluoro eyes, only to be sent scampering away by a loud alarm. Or complaints about the increase in visible homelessness outside Sunshine Library.

But as the weather warms up, these complaints are replaced by photos of snakes along the Kororoit Creek Trail. The creek is one of the true delights of living here. Once you get past the hard rubbish dumped on nature strips and discarded tyres, the nature along some stretches of Kororoit Creek are unrivalled to … well, let’s say anywhere in the west between Footscray and Werribee. While jogging here, I have to remind myself that I’m just 12 kilometres from the CBD.

If I could sum up Sunshine in word, it would be unpretentious. In Ascot Vale, I would be fashion-conscious, heading out to find a coffee on Union Road. In Sunshine, no one really gives a toss. Trackies are par for the course. Mockies are worn unironically. And around Matthews Hill – “the Toorak end of Sunshine” – you might even find a few signs of gentrification spreading west.

Sunshine’s reputation might be improving, but don’t mention it to rusted-on Sunshiners. They couldn’t care less what others think of them. And I’m starting to agree.

Lee Crossley is a former journalist who spends most of his time these days teaching English and looking out for tiger snakes along Kororoit Creek trail.

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