So… What Do You Actually Do?

When you meet someone new, what's the first thing they ask you?

"So, what do you do?"

Not what makes you laugh until your stomach hurts. Not what you're curious about, what you collect, build, bake, grow or write in your spare time. Not what lights you up inside or helps you feel most like yourself. Instead, it's your job title, your industry, your LinkedIn headline. As if that's the most interesting — or most important — thing about you.

In a world that increasingly equates value with productivity, it’s no wonder we default to defining ourselves by our work. But what if we didn’t? What if, instead of leading with our 9 – 5, we led with the things we love? The things that bring us joy?

It’s strange to think that despite living in a society obsessed with wellness, work-life balance and self-care, many of us have forgotten what it means to have a hobby. We’ve become so fixated on careers, side hustles and social media personas that we’ve left no room for the things that once filled our afternoons, evenings, and weekends with creativity and calm.

The pressure to monetise everything — to turn your pottery into an Etsy store, your photography into a content stream, your workout routine into a personal brand — has chipped away at our ability to do things just for the love of them. So much so that, for some, the question "What do you do for fun?" has become the most panic-inducing line on a first date.

In cities like Sydney and Melbourne, where social clout can be measured by the postcode you grew up in or the school you went to, it can feel like we’re constantly being judged against arbitrary markers of status. But when we strip all that away — job, wardrobe, resume, alumni network — what’s left? Who are we when we’re not at work?

These questions are particularly important for those in the LGBTQIA+ community, where identity is already layered, complex, and often misunderstood. Many of us know what it feels like to code-switch at work, to not be fully out, or to tone ourselves down to fit into corporate environments that still, statistically, aren’t safe or inclusive for everyone.

This is why finding your tribe — through hobbies, interests, shared passions — is more than just a feel-good exercise. It’s an essential act of self-preservation. Whether it’s a queer hiking group, a drag knitting night, a book club, or a community garden, these spaces remind us that we are more than our jobs. They remind us that we are creative, multifaceted humans who deserve to be seen, not just for what we produce, but for how we live and who we are when we’re fully at ease.

Workplaces, too, have a role to play. When employees are supported to bring their whole selves to work — including the parts of them that don’t fit into neat professional boxes — they’re more likely to thrive. Visibility matters. Inclusion matters. And hobbies? They matter too. They are often the bridges that connect us to others and to ourselves.

So, next time someone asks you what you do, maybe try answering a different question instead. Tell them what you’re learning, what you’re making, what you’re obsessed with lately. Tell them about the puzzle you’re halfway through, the gig you’ve got tickets to, the ocean swim you’re training for, the community you’ve found.

And if you don’t have something like that right now? That’s okay. This is your invitation to find it.