Australia’s aged care workforce stands on the shoulders of migrant workers. From personal care staff to registered nurses, overseas-born employees form the backbone of the sector, keeping facilities open and residents cared for when local recruitment falls short. Without them, many aged care homes would simply not function.
The scale of this reliance is clear. According to the latest government data, more than half of all aged care workers (precisely 51 per cent) were born overseas.
The most common countries of origin are Nepal, India and the Philippines, with many staff arriving through sponsorship schemes that tie their futures to aged care roles. Around 39 per cent of workers speak a language other than English at home, a reflection of the sector’s multicultural roots.
While diversity has its strengths, it also brings with it some profound challenges. Communication breakdowns between colleagues, misunderstandings with residents, and perceptions of racial favouritism have begun to corrode morale within a growing number of aged care workplaces.
Visa applications for registered nurses in aged care surged by 244.1 per cent in 2024–25, while applications for personal care workers jumped an extraordinary 369 per cent. As facilities lean harder on international recruits, stories of friction are emerging, revealing a sector rich in dedication but fractured by misunderstanding.
When language becomes a barrier
A recent post in Facebook’s Aged Care Worker Support Group revealed an unfiltered look at the source of some of these tensions.
An Australian-born worker described what she saw as racial discrimination: promotions favouring sponsored migrants over more experienced English speakers, higher-positioned staff protected from complaints, and colleagues speaking their native languages on the floor despite English-only directives.
Responses poured in. Some shared similar frustrations, noting that residents often felt ignored or confused. Others described makeshift solutions: “We use Google Translate to communicate,” one admitted. “Some staff are very hard to understand as their English isn’t clear.”
But not all replies agreed. “Without international nurses we would not have enough staff – the system is broken, racism is no help,” one worker countered. The exchange reflected the sector’s wider struggle: balancing valid concerns with the need to avoid fuelling division.
Communication in aged care is critical. A whispered reassurance can calm anxiety, a clear instruction can prevent a fall. When language falters, the consequences ripple through residents, families, and colleagues. One resident reportedly told a worker: “I feel they don’t like white people. What a way to feel in your own home.”
Australian-born staff also describe exclusion during handovers when conversations slip into other languages. “I was getting handover for my night shift and the RN spoke in her own language across the counter,” one carer recalled. “I couldn’t believe it.” Selective enforcement of English-only rules fuels resentment and a sense of double standards.
For migrant workers, meanwhile, language barriers make daily tasks far harder. A discussion paper on the culturally and linguistically diverse (CALD) workforce noted that poor English can erode confidence and invite assumptions about competence.
Even qualified overseas professionals face doubts about their skills, while racist remarks from residents often go unchecked.
Many workers arrive with strong qualifications, only to grapple with new systems, unfamiliar idioms, and indirect communication styles. Without support, this adaptation becomes an uphill battle.
The result is a cycle of misunderstandings that compromises care quality, especially during emergencies or emotionally charged moments.
A sector powered by migrants
At its core, Australia’s aged care system is powered by migrants. From 2014 to 2024, residential care employment grew by 39 per cent, reaching 301,000 workers. Women dominate the field at 83 per cent, while men remain underrepresented.
Overseas-born staff, comprising that vital 51 per cent, regularly shoulder the hardest shifts, often while navigating visa uncertainty and separation from families. Many come from cultures where elder care is deeply respected, enriching facilities with their commitment and values.
Yet this reliance comes at a cost: lower pay for migrant women, complex regulatory hurdles, and the invisible burden of “cultural translation” in daily interactions.
Consider the experience of Nepalese registered nurse Sonal Sapkota. Arriving in 2018, she invested heavily in bridging programs before entering residential aged care in 2020. Despite her ICU background, colleagues dismissed her expertise with remarks like, “It’s different here in Australia.” Promotions slipped by with vague excuses about her lacking “Australian things.”
A resident once told her, “You need to go back there,” while her manager brushed it off: “It’s OK, she’s old.” The impact was crushing. “It affected me mentally,” Sonal said. After two years she left, joining the many CALD workers who depart not through lack of passion, but from being undervalued.
Racism cuts both ways
The blame game in online forums where a growing number of Australian-born staff accusing migrants of forming cliques and migrants feeling unfairly judged, hides a deeper truth: racism harms everyone.
A 2024 survey by the NSW Nurses and Midwives’ Association of more than 3,000 workers found 70 per cent believed racism was rife in their workplaces. CALD and Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander staff were frequent targets, but Australian-born workers are also reporting racial discrimination. One Australian-born worker described feeling silenced as her raising any concerns about her overseas-born colleagues resulted in her being branded a racist herself.
Incidents ranged from stereotyping and bullying to discrimination over accents. For migrants, 27 per cent linked race to blocked career advancement. Colleagues were the most common perpetrators, but managers and residents were also involved. The result was thousands of lost workdays and millions in costs.
Alarmingly, most victims reported receiving no support, and many stayed silent, fearing reprisals or believing nothing would change.
What Needs to Change
Bridging these divides requires more than goodwill, it demands structural reform.
Towards healing
Amid the discord, stories of hope show what is possible. After leaving residential care, Sonal Sapkota found a new beginning in a new workplace environment. Now Clinical Services Director, she embraces cultural diversity as a strength, explaining festivals to residents, encouraging curiosity, and creating a workplace where difference is welcomed.
Her advice to newcomers is simple: “Look at the workplace that aligns with your values, not just the salary. Otherwise it will really hamper your mental health.”
Such stories remind us that solutions lie in our shared humanity. Listening to the frustrations of Australian-born carers and recognising them as real issues is just as important. Not to diminish the struggles of migrant staff, but to acknowledge that workplace harmony depends on every voice being heard.
When facilities prioritise wellbeing over productivity alone, turnover falls, teams strengthen, and residents thrive. Reports now urge co-designed frameworks that weave Aboriginal, CALD, and local voices into policy, ensuring reforms reflect the sector’s full diversity.
