First Nations Model Samantha Harris On Her Career Being “Written In The Stars”

I remember wanting to be a model from when I was old enough to ask Mum for a bowl of Weet-Bix in the morning. If you ask Mum, she’ll tell you it was written in the stars. From the moment she found out she was pregnant with me, she was positive I was a girl. And when she went for her first scan, the sonographer said that I was going to be a model. Not because of my gender, but because of my position in my mum’s womb. Apparently, I had an arm behind my head and one leg bent, as if I was casually modelling an umbilical cord. 

While I don’t think Mum took the sonographer’s prediction as gospel, she had vivid dreams of a little girl throughout the last term of her pregnancy. In the final dream before I arrived, the little girl was walking into her mother’s home wearing a beautiful dress and carrying presents. Six months after I was born, my mum’s sister, Aunty Tammy, came to visit and gave me a dress that was identical to the one in Mum’s dream. Mum, who still has the dress hanging in her wardrobe, will tell you time and again that modelling was my destiny. 

To be completely honest, I feel a little strange saying that modelling was my destiny. When I entered pageants and modelling competitions, it wasn’t because I liked the attention or thought the world needed photos of me. It was because I wanted to feel as beautiful as the models I saw in magazines; I wanted to travel the world. But most of all, modelling was something I got to do with Mum, and I loved that. 

Having been part of the Stolen Generations, Mum carries the scars of a system that tried to erase her culture and identity. But instead of breaking her, it made her fiercely protective of the opportunities she could create, not just for me, but for Aboriginal girls across Australia. She knew the potential I had for influence, for opening doors and for making people take notice. In her eyes, I could change the way other Aboriginal kids felt about who they were by being a model who takes pride in who I am: a Dunghutti woman who grew up on Bundjalung land. 

In a way, modelling chose me and then I chose modelling right back. From the moment I toddled my four-year-old self onto the stage at my first pageant, Mum sacrificed money, meals and many weekends to make sure I was able to follow my dreams. She protected me, encouraged me and used her street smarts to work out who was there for my professional interests and who wasn’t. She taught me about self-love and self-worth and how you must never let anyone take those away from you. 

The biggest lesson, however, was recognising just how much can change from one generation to the next, from Mum’s generation to mine. To truly understand the significance of my story, you must understand my mum’s. Through her sacrifices and strength, she became the bridge between her past and my future, a connection to our people and a reminder of how far we’ve come.