Behind the mask, I am the hidden face of poverty in WA

When people think of poverty, they often picture someone sleeping rough on the streets.

But increasingly in Western Australia, poverty looks like me: a 67-year-old grandmother who once ran a thriving business, owned a home, and raised two sons surrounded by love and opportunity.

On the surface, I still present that way. I wear what I call “the mask”. It’s the smile, the gratitude, the effort to appear as though everything is fine. But behind closed doors, poverty is a daily reality.

I never imagined I would be here. In my younger years I was a professional dancer, travelling across Australia and overseas.

Later, I built a dance studio business in regional Victoria, employing staff, teaching students, and contributing to my community. I was strong, vibrant, and financially secure.

Then came the turning points. A devastating medical diagnosis. Repeated surgeries. The end of my marriage. A second marriage that stripped me of assets through coercion and control. By the time I fled back to Perth, my hometown, the nest egg I had worked for was gone.

At 53, I began again, working in the mining sector and dreaming of buying a small home for my retirement. But that was short-lived.

Life changed when I became the full-time carer of my young granddaughters. Family Court battles, more health crises, and further tumours followed.

Now, at 67, I live on the disability support pension. I rent, grateful for a roof over my head, but fearful each time the lease comes up.

Like many older women, I know how close homelessness can be. A rent increase, an unexpected bill, or a change in circumstance could tip everything over the edge.

This is not just my story. Older women are the fastest-growing group of people experiencing homelessness in Australia.

Many of us spent years raising children, supporting families, or giving to our communities. Yet in later life, we find ourselves one step away from losing everything.

Living below the poverty line doesn’t just mean going without luxuries. It means relying on food hampers. It means doing mental gymnastics every time petrol, groceries, or utilities rise. It means a constant undercurrent of stress.

And this is happening in the wealthiest state in Australia. WA prides itself on being the “lucky state,” yet hundreds of thousands of people like me are living in poverty every day.

How can hundreds of millions of dollars be found for a new racetrack, while basic human needs like housing, healthcare, and income support remain unmet?

My experience of poverty is that it isn’t just about individual choices or bad luck. It is about a system that leaves people behind, particularly women, carers, and older Australians. It’s about structures that reward wealth while punishing vulnerability.

We can change this. It starts with recognising that poverty wears many faces. Not just the rough sleeper but the neighbour, the grandmother, the woman next to you in the supermarket queue.

How could the system change my life? Invest in and strengthen our social safety net.

That means our government should provide more human levels of income benefit, secure housing and access to well-trained social workers and counsellors directly connected to GP clinics and hospitals - people who can catch those at risk before they spiral too far down the rabbit hole of poverty.

This should include workers with lived experience, who can understand, empathise, and advocate for those who are struggling. We need to ensure that no one who has worked, cared, and contributed their whole life is left to face old age in fear.

Every day, I keep wearing the mask. I smile. I create. I present the best version of myself.

However, the truth is, poverty is always there behind it. It’s stressful, it’s exhausting, and it’s dehumanising. Behind closed doors the pressure and stress of living in poverty is often too much and frequently brings me to tears.

This mask I wear is not just mine. It’s worn by countless others in WA who are trying to persevere with dignity.

If we are serious about fairness and community, it’s time we looked behind the mask and acted.

Anti-Poverty Week runs from October 12-18.