By Eva Hussain

Refugee Week is one of those times of year where everyone suddenly has something to say. Panels, posts, speeches, carefully chosen words about resilience, success and strength. Politicians, media, large NGOs, advocacy groups, corporates, everyone steps in with statements and campaigns for the week but very little changes in how slow, complex and limiting the system still is, nearly forty years to the date from my arrival to Australia in August 1986.

Refugee Week wasn’t meant to be a polished week with themes and messaging. It began in Australia in the 1980s as a small grassroots effort to make refugees visible and better understood, with the first event in 1986 being a simple march and picnic in Sydney. Over time, it grew into a national movement supported by major organisations, with increasing public engagement through forums, media and community events. The original vision was always to take it further and that was realised 25 years ago when the United Nations established World Refugee Day on 20 June 2001. Australia later aligned Refugee Week with this date, connecting what started locally to a global movement. Today, it is widely recognised and marked by hundreds of events, all aimed at building understanding and recognising the contributions refugees make to their communities.

There is something about those early beginnings that feels more honest than what we have now – bigger, more organised and global, bringing attention and reach. But at the same time, it can feel scripted, even performative. The language is familiar, the tone predictable, the same ideas repeated. Life does not feel like that when you are actually living it.

Recently, I have reclaimed the label “former refugee”. For a long time, I stayed away from it, not because it was not true but because of everything people attach to that word. Now I use it very deliberately because the reality is, when people hear “refugee”, they rarely picture someone like me. They carry a very fixed image, one that does not leave much room for complexity, growth or where that person might be years later. The label stays frozen, while real lives move on.

And that gap, between perception and reality, is exactly where so much gets lost.

At the same time, what is often overlooked is just how much refugees contribute once they are given even a small opening. People rebuild, they work, they start businesses, they support families here and overseas, they bring skills, perspective, resilience and a level of drive that is hard to replicate. None of that comes from the label itself, it comes from what it takes to survive, to adapt and to keep moving forward. Yet those contributions are rarely the focus and even more rarely reflected in how systems are designed.

I still think about when I arrived in Australia. No English, no money, no education. People talk about that stage as if it is one chapter but it isn’t. It stretches out and follows you into everything.

You wake up and the whole day is effort. Listening carefully so you don’t miss something important. Trying to respond quickly enough so it doesn’t feel awkward. Filling in forms where you are not completely sure what is being asked but you do your best because you don’t really have another option or don’t want to appear stupid.

Language is the most visible barrier but it is also the one people misunderstand the most. It is not simply about learning new words or being able to hold a basic conversation, it is about whether you can express the full depth of who you are, how you think and what you have already done. When that is not there yet, even highly capable people can come across as less experienced, less confident or less articulate.

So what others see is not the full person and over time, that gap between what you know you can do and what others are able to recognise can shape opportunities, perceptions and your own sense of where you fit, often lasting much longer than people expect.

Then there is work.

You come with experience, sometimes years of it. You have studied, worked, built something. Then you arrive and it all becomes a question mark. Your experience becomes “overseas”, which sounds neutral, but in reality can close doors before you even get a chance to explain yourself. So you adjust and take what you can get. You start again from wherever the system lets you in and life does not stop while you figure it out.

There is pressure from every direction. Supporting family, here or back home. Managing processes that take longer than they should, not always knowing what your long-term situation will look like. You keep moving, because you have to but it takes a toll.

That sense of being slightly on the outside is something people rarely talk about. You are there, participating, contributing but not fully belonging. You do not hear your language as much or see yourself reflected around you and that can feel isolating, even when your life looks full from the outside.

Today, there are more than one hundred million people around the world who have been forced to leave their homes and this is where Refugee Week can feel disconnected because it captures only a small part of what this actually looks like over time.

At Polaron Connect, we sit in a different part of this story.

Not at the beginning and not at the point where everything has already settled but in that in between stage where a few decisions, the right introduction or a clearer understanding of how things work can completely shift direction.

And we do not stay at the level of labels since “refugee”, “migrant”, “professional” do not tell you what someone knows or what they are capable of building next. So we go deeper.

At Polaron Connect, this means working directly with governments and for purpose organisations to make sure their messages reach people in a way that can be understood and acted on. It means designing in-language campaigns properly, providing interpreting and translating that supports real decision making and making sure people have the clarity they need to make informed choices about their health, their legal matters and their lives. Alongside that, we work with individuals so they are not left trying to navigate all of this on their own, helping them communicate their experience in a way that makes sense, connecting them to the right people in a way that is relevant, giving them clear direction so they are not second guessing every step.

We measure success in what changes, not in how busy we look or how many selfies we take. That means checking whether people understood and acted on the information, whether more people accessed services earlier, whether decisions were made correctly and whether confusion reduced and trust increased. It also shows up in whether individuals move into roles that reflect their experience instead of being filtered out before they are seen.

So when Refugee Week comes around, I do not think about how to say things better.

I think about what to do, how and with whom but also who gets access to something they did not have before, who is seen properly for what they already bring, who is connected to the right opportunity at the right time?

Most people are not asking for much: a fair chance, a clear path, a way to move forward without having to prove themselves again and again.

Refugee Week tells part of the story. Polaron Connect focuses on what happens next.iversity and build authentic opportunities that honour traditions while shaping a stronger future.

About the Author
Eva Hussain is the Founder and Director of Polaron Connect, as well as the Honorary Consul General of the Republic of Austria in Victoria, Australia. A NAATI Certified Translator and Interpreter, Eva has spent her career breaking down communication barriers and fostering genuine connections across cultures. She also contributes her expertise as a board member of the Victorian Refugee Health Network, the Australian Institute of Interpreters and Translators (AUSIT), and the Association of Polish Jews, working closely with communities to support inclusion, cultural understanding, and the preservation of linguistic heritage.