Supporting Australian Farmers: Why No one should feel alone.

Growing up in a sixth-generation farming family on the Darling Downs, I learned early on that life on the land is about resilience, hard work and community. Farming is more than a livelihood, its a way of life, a legacy, and a responsibility carried across generations.

Isolation never worried me (in fact, I enjoy it more now). Distance shapes you; it forges a kind of inner steel you don’t recognise until much later. I was raised on stories of generations before me waking up at 4am every morning to milk cows, muster cattle, even birthing babies in the back of a sulky on dirt tracks in Central Queensland in the 1800s. Out here, family isn’t a concept; it’s infrastructure. Farming isn’t an industry; it’s identity. Resilience and hard work were the key themes. Farming and family are everything.

The Quiet Reality of Rural Life

If you’ve grown up in the bush, you know the unwritten rule: you solve your own problems, you just get on with it. When your fuel tank hits empty on a red-dirt road and your phone flickers to SOS, you become the contingency plan. You've just got to get through it and walk those kilometres home. Even when it’s on dark, across river country and the snakes are out, and the odds of making it home feel fifty–fifty. When the going gets tough, country people demonstrate time and time again resilience and fortitude that I've found unmatched.

That mindset — resilience paired with ingenuity — is why Australians consistently punch above our weight. Australia was raised on the backs of farmers, and I believe deep down, this heritage is why a nation of 26 million can produce global innovations like Wi-Fi and the world’s first cancer vaccine. It’s why our farmers can feed and clothe millions, working from dusk until dawn, and at the mercy of mother nature and keep going!

What I Learned Working With Farmers

During my time at Rural Aid, I had the privilege of working alongside farming families at their most vulnerable — drought, floods, fires, plagues, and the “unprecedented” seasons that kept rewriting the rulebook. I also had the privilege of working with donors who cared deeply about ensuring these families were seen, supported, and never forgotten.

Across every conversation with philanthropists — one message echoed:

You are not alone.

In a single year, some families faced 11 floods in 12 months. Others watched neighbours lose everything while their own crops were the best in a decade. Agriculture is a high-risk game. At the worst of times, it’s a test of tenacity and the human spirit.

The Question That Stayed With Me

Early in my work, someone said maybe we, “Help keep bad farmers in business, when maybe they are in the wrong game and should give it up.”

I really struggled with this comment for many weeks afterwards and reflected deeply on what they could have meant. It seemed so harsh at the time, and remember thinking, how can you say that when you can do everything, and be hit with hail or rain a week before harvest, or get flooded. No-one can prevent that? I thought about family and friends in our district who we’ve sadly lost in the past because they couldn’t take it any longer and just, “gave up.”

Often, the state of rural mental health is tied to the seasons. If it’s a good season, everything can feel great. But when it’s not, especially for extended periods, it feels like not much more can be thrown at you until you break.

What many outside farming fail to understand is that walking away from an intergenerational farm is not like leaving a job. An accountant can walk away from the accounting firm they work for, a hairdresser and walk away from a salon. Farms are not only a farmer’s livelihood, but also their home. The prospect of losing their farm can sometimes feel like losing their career, home and life as they know it, as well as their community and children’s future. On top of letting down generations before them by losing their family legacy. Most of us could not understand the sheer pressure of that reality.

Any thoughts of leaving are immediately countered by the hope that the good seasons will come back around… But who knows when? How much do you have to endure before the next bumper crop will come and set everything back on track?

Hand Ups, not Hand Outs

The lessons at Rural Aid shaped how I approach philanthropy today:

Impact doesn’t require perfection. It requires presence.

• A $500 prepaid VISA won’t rebuild a fence line, but it will restock a fridge after a flood.

• A single conversation with a counsellor won’t remove every burden, but it can stop a spiral.

• Generosity doesn’t always have to be grand to be life-changing.

The most common request from donors was to tell our farmers:

'Tell them they’re not alone'.

And the most memorable response I ever heard came from a stoic farmer at a fodder drop, eyes wet:

“It’s just good to know someone’s got our backs.”

That moment stays with me. Because in the hardest moments, knowing someone cares can be its own kind of survival.

Why Supporting Farmers Matters

Even now, through Greenfields Impact, I still carry the lessons from my Rural Aid years. I still see the same values reflected in the donors and families I work with today:

• Humility

• Understanding

• Appreciation for those who put food on our table

• Generosity as a quiet, steady force

Our farmers may be some of the most physically isolated people in the world — but they should never feel alone.

This is why I do the work I do.

This is why rural philanthropy matters.

And this is why, even after an unprecedented decade of challenges, I remain deeply optimistic.

Because every time a generous person raises their hand and says “I want to help,” it means that life gets a little easier for those doing the most important work.

Rebecca

At Greenfields Impact, we help generous Australian's give strategically to rural communities. If you'd like to support farmers or learn how your generosity can make a real difference, visit our Contact page to get in touch.