Breaking stereotypes: The people who aren’t what they seem

A FEMALE AFL coach, a blokey pastry chef and a trendy pastor’s family? Appearances can be deceiving. Meet the Aussies who aren’t what they seem.

Breaking stereotypes: People who aren’t who they seem

APPEARANCES can be deceiving, discovers Sunday Style’s Mel Evans. Here she meets some people who aren’t what they seem.

The Bridgewaters: The Pastor’s Family

They’re the hip, shaggy-haired family you wouldn’t expect to see at a Sunday service, let alone running a church, so Nathan Bridgewater, 40, may well just be the coolest pastor ever, right?

“Sometimes the view of a pastor is cold and formal and disconnected from real life,” says the leader of Sydney’s Canvas Church.

“We break the stereotype a bit. We’re a bit younger, but we’ve been doing it a long time. My parents are pastors and I’ve grown up in the ministry. But I did art school [before] I did theology, I had long hair, went to Nirvana concerts. I was allowed to live life.”

He met his wife, Sunday Style journalist Natalie, 38, at church in 1995 when he was 20 and she was 19. They married two years later.

“My parents freaked out when I got engaged at 21,” says Natalie. “Even though they are Christian, and Nath wanted to be a minister, they were worried how we’d go financially because we were so young. There was no talking us out of it.”

Breaking the mould, Canvas — part of the Australian Christian Churches — is held in a school hall rather than a stuffy chapel. Although the Bridgewaters aren’t as conservative as one may assume of a churchgoing family, Natalie still hopes to bring up their four boys — Finn, 11, Jude, nine, Milo, six, and Iggy, three — with a knowledge of their place in the world and of God.

“The values are the same, but family comes before church,” she says. “[Our ideals are] strict in the sense that we want the kids to respect other people and be obedient, but we also want them to grow up feeling secure in themselves, know who God is and that He loves them, and be free to make their own choices.”

“I guess our belief is more about giving hope, believing for the best and giving [people] purpose as opposed to rules and regulations,” adds Nathan. “My focus is on keeping it youthful and fun. You want [church] to engage with people. It’s not a religious act — you’re supposed to leave church feeling better about life and glad you went that day.”

Andy Bowden: The pastry chef

Before intricate, delicate cakes and elaborate desserts were his (piping) bag, Andy Bowden was at university studying visual arts. “Lacking application,” he quit, took off overseas and answered a Gumtree classified ad for a chef’s position. Soon after, in 2006, a career as a pastry chef beckoned, but it was never the plan.

“I fell into it more than wanted to go into it,” says the 30-year-old, the proud owner of 120 pairs of sneakers, who looks as if he’d be more at home wearing a skater-boi outfit than chef’s whites. “I ended up going on a self-discovery holiday, got my UK visa and thought I could blag through [a chef’s interview].” With no training as a chef, never mind a pastry chef, he believes qualifications aren’t as important as you might think.

“I guess I just continued on the lie,” he laughs. “It’s more about what you can do in the kitchen than what qualifications you have. There are plenty of qualified people out there who are terrible.”

Bowden has made quite an impact as the pastry chef at Hartsyard in Sydney’s Newtown since its inception more than two years ago. He creates the dessert menu: elaborate soft-serves, a weekly pie special and the creation pictured here — a raspberry cheesecake with choc-chip cake throughout, meringue on top and a smattering of berries to finish. I don’t mean to generalise, but it’s not out of the question to assume those pretty cakes, piled high with pink mousse, are made by women. However, there are a lot more male pastry chefs out there than we think (“You’ve heard of Adriano Zumbo, right?”). Even so, they’re often overlooked.

“People aren’t shocked [by a male pastry chef],” he says. “I guess pastry chefs don’t always get the limelight. They hide behind head chefs. I have freedom to do what I want. But there are six of us in the kitchen — it’s tight and there’s only one oven.”

While this isn’t the career path he planned to take, it’s the life for him. “I would like to eventually have my own place,” he says. “I don’t want to be the next Zumbo — his place is all pink. I don’t want a pink pastry shop.” I guess some stereotypes are harder to bust than others.

Peta Searle: The AFL coach

No stranger to the news, Peta Searle has been in the spotlight for turning Aussie Rules on its head — she’s the first female to reach a coaching position within the AFL.

“I’ve always been a massive AFL fan,” says the development coach for St Kilda Football Club. “I played the game for many years and I guess many men that play the game have gone into coaching because they want to stay involved.”

As a trailblazer for females in the field, surely Peta, 40, copped chauvinism of some sort? Wolf whistles? Awkward stares?

“The challenges I faced were the same challenges a lot of men face,” she explains. “When I say that, I mean if you haven’t played in that industry at that level, it’s hard to break through because there are so few jobs and so many outstanding coaches. It’s not just being a female; it’s being part of the AFL industry — if you don’t have that initial foundation [of playing AFL at professional level], like many others it can be difficult.”

Has being a part of St Kilda helped to bust the gender stereotypes? “It’s never been about a gender issue. You’re a coach, it’s as simple as that,” she says. “You’re either liked because of who you are, or you’re not liked. Thankfully, along my journey, more people have liked me than not.

“St Kilda values women in leadership; there are two women on the St Kilda board and three on the executive team. [There are] empowering women in leadership and I think that’s an important message.”

Searle hopes her children — Tessa, eight, and Jackson, fve — will both learn something from the choices she has made and the strides she’s taken: “They’re not overly sporty people at the moment, but I know that they’re proud. I can see it in their faces.”

Whether or not she believes being a female in the game is tough, there is no denying Searle has had a spotlight shone on her, adding a little more pressure to an already high-pressure position. “There’s always pressure to perform in jobs, and I do have a massive public following me. You don’t want it to be ‘What happened to Peta?’” she says. “My goal is to try to make sure that I [go] beyond the normal lifespan of a coach, to enable other women to follow me.”

Dean & Jarryd: The childcare workers

It may look a little odd, seeing two burly men caring for a screaming bunch of children. But Dean Kelemen and Jarryd Wearne say they wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“There’s nothing that makes me happier than finishing a day at work with a big smile on my face after making a kid’s day their best ever,” says 25-year-old Kelemen. “Every child is such a character and every day is different. It’s very rewarding.”

The boys both played for the Roosters under-21s rugby league side when they finished school, before they decided on childcare work. Wearne took the game to Queensland for six months. After a stint in after-school care at Sydney’s Cranbrook School, Kelemen pursued a career in marine biology. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t the job for him. So, how do parents react when they see young men in St Mary’s Child Care Centre in Waverley?

“More parents say it’s amazing,” says Wearne, 26. “A long time ago it might have been different, but these days everyone is welcoming and happy to see me in the industry.” “Obviously, it was tough to tell the boys you want to be a preschool teacher,” adds Kelemen. “We’re big footy heads, so it’s a juxtaposition, but my girlfriend and our friends and families know the type of people we are and that this is meant for us.”

It takes a lot of determination to hang around screaming four-year-olds day in, day out — heck, this journalist could only handle a couple of hours for our photo shoot — but Kelemen looks on the bright side of the tantrums and tears.

“It’s a very good contraceptive working with 45 children every day,” he laughs. “But we’ve found our niche and we’re not meant to be anywhere else. It ticks all the boxes.”

Follow Mel on Twitter @melevans. Download the Sunday Style app here.