The Grit and Grace of Sunday Aryang
- Ann Odong
- Apr 16
- 10 min read
Updated: Apr 18
Season One of [un]written focuses on the rise of sportswomen with African ancestry who are Kuangazia Kesho "Illuminating tomorrow". They are the first generation of African Australians trailblazing in their fields and showing many from their communities what is possible.
Sunday Aryang doesn’t enter a room loudly, but her presence off the court is felt much like it is on. She speaks with the understanding of someone who listened and learned long before she found her voice.
On the netball court, her movements are sharp, her vision focused, and her leadership undeniable. But off the court, she carries a quieter kind of strength, but a strength that is no less indisputable. Sunday doesn’t just challenge the preconceptions of the African Australian story but expands it in a manner that weaves further colour into our uniquely Australian story.
Her story begins with the stitching of two rich African cultures through a Ugandan father and an Ethiopian mother.
The well-worn narrative often told of African athletes is forged in struggle - stories rooted in war, displacement, and the long climb from conflict to global stages. These are powerful, necessary accounts and will feature still in this series.
However, as fitting with a continent with millions of years of human history and thousands of cultures, the African Australian experience has complexity and depth with Sunday’s story offering a different yet equally profound lens.
Hers is not a tale of fleeing violence but of deliberate sacrifice. Her parents made a conscious, forward-looking decision in 2002 to leave behind the familiar in search of greater opportunity born not out of fear, but out of hope. They envisioned a better future for their children, a life where education, sport, and stability could coexist.
In that quiet determination lies a story just as moving in that is one of planning, resilience, and the unshakeable belief that their children, like Sunday, would be allowed to chase dreams greater than they could have imagined.
Sunday was just a baby when the trajectory of her future was forever redirected. One and a half, to be exact. Her embraces of a past home are second-hand and come through in moments that evoke memories – family stories, smells from her mum’s kitchen, the familiar rise and fall of her parents’ voices speaking in a language that ties them to a place they left behind. She admits she’s not sure if some memories are her own or just ones she inherited. But she knows this: “Everything they did was for us.”
“My parents just pretty much wanted a better life,” Sunday explained. “Even though it was very hard for them to leave, you could just see that they were very happy to be in this environment in Australia. To start a new life and try to thrive in a different country for their kids.”
“You can see it from what they have been trying to give us in Australia. You can see it every day in them. There is a feeling from them for us to not waste opportunities because not everyone gets to have them and not to take them for granted.”
‘Don’t take it for granted’.
It’s a familiar refrain that children of migrants have heard echoed throughout the decades and Sunday and her three siblings have taken it to heart.
There’s a photo somewhere of Sunday at her first netball carnival. Towering above the rest of the kids, shy and reserved, hair tied back, face focused. She laughs when she remembers how tall she was compared to everyone else.
"I just remember just being so tall and standing out. Everyone could see me from a mile away," she remembers. “It’s the type of memory that just sticks.”
It was on that day that she was approached by Sue Stacey to tell her that she had something. Encouraged Sunday to take the sport seriously. Sunday didn’t know it then, but that encounter would become a hinge point. A before and after.
But really, Sunday’s journey didn’t begin with Sue or that carnival. It began years earlier, in the backyard with her siblings. Four kids, one household, and endless energy. They were always outside. Playing basketball. Kicking soccer balls. Racing. Arguing. Cheering. Laughing. Her older sister Rose was her benchmark - everything Rose did, Sunday wanted to do. And netball was no different.
“Growing up I wanted to do whatever she did. I wanted to be with her and like her.”
That bond with her siblings is still as strong as it was when they were all running around in the backyard or local parks. Rose played to a high level before moving out of the sport, but she was Sunday’s first teammate. Ruth, the younger sister, plays professionally too and is Sunday’s second teammate at the West Coast Fever. And their little brother - well, he’s tearing it up in basketball.
There’s no big-head energy in the Aryang household. No pedestals. No special treatment. There can’t be with four siblings who are continuously pushing each other, supporting each other, and ensuring none of them take the opportunities in front of them for granted.
“We’re a very humble family and no one's thinking that they're better than anyone,” she says. “I love my siblings so much. They are my biggest supporters, and I am their biggest supporter. It’s just great to see them succeed in sports as well, succeed in their lives.
“Rose is working full time and she's doing amazing with her work. She's got that all sorted and got that going well.
“Then there's Ruth coming through at Fever at the professional level. I love seeing her growth in netball, and how far she's come from when she started. Seeing the skill on her, her athleticism, and some of the things she does on the court is amazing.
“My younger brother is killing it in basketball. Seeing him play basketball and seeing the leadership that he shows on the court is beautiful. When I see him playing basketball, he's just so sweet, so kind and leadership he shows, I think “Wow, I can take a little bit of that into my leadership.”
Even with that support, family can still be the people that bring you back down to earth when John, her brother, needs a 5 am lift to training and asks her the night before. “I just got home,” she’ll protest. And then she does it anyway.
Sport, for Sunday, was never rooted in competition. Like for many before her it was a shorthand language into the new country and to gather a sense of belonging.
“Australians love our sport,” she says. “And I was athletic. I could play anything. That’s what helped me connect.”
But it also gave her something more subtle - a way to come out of her shell. She used to be shy. Quiet. Always “just happy to be there.” Sport taught her to speak up, to take up space. And then to lead. Leadership doesn’t come with a megaphone for Sunday in fact it almost didn’t come at all.
“Leadership now is so much different to what it was for me years ago,” she explained. “Five years ago, I was more one of those people that are just happy to be in the background and not really do much.”
Stepping into the cloak of leading has been a slow revelation gained from an understanding that showing up as herself is enough. She used to think a leader had to be loud, commanding, and articulate under pressure. Time has provided another perspective. Her leadership is rooted in quiet intensity which is the kind you feel more than hear.
“Now, I know I don’t have to be the loudest,” she continued. “I just have to be authentic. You don't want to lose yourself when it comes to leadership. You want to still be your authentic self. I still want to have some parts of that younger me 10 years down the line.”
“It’s different for everyone, and the way that I lead is going to be different from the way that Jess [Anstiss] and my team lead but it's okay. Everyone needs a different kind of guidance in their life, and people can learn so much from you, and from your style of leadership.
“I don't need to be great with my words. As long as I show in a way that people appreciate then I'm happy with that.”
On the court and off the court, Sunday is leading the way into new territories for African Australian women. As has become apparent throughout the course of getting to know her, she is thoughtful and introspective regarding her place in the modern sporting landscape and what it means to be the first.
“It’s an amazing feeling and it’s great that I was able to be the first. That I am able to do that for the younger generation coming through and give them someone to look at,” she answers after an initial pause of contemplation.
“But I kind of wish I wasn’t. Do you know what I mean? I sometimes just feel that there should have been someone coming through when I was younger. It shouldn't be right now that there's a person where I'm from, that has my experiences that are only just emerging for the kids can relate to. It’s great that I was able to, but I wish it had happened earlier.”
The words hang in the air for a moment. Because that’s the conundrum about being the first, why does it take so long and why wasn’t there that person for you? Trailblazing is a privilege but it’s not always a triumph. Sometimes, it’s just lonely. There is pressure to be the best of your community so that those who come after you have it easier.
You get the sense from Sunday that representation isn’t just a buzzword. Instead, it is a concept that is now deeply felt but that wasn’t always the case. Like the athlete, her relationship with the mantle of representation is gently complicated.
There is sometimes a push-pull tension of two worlds for first-generation migrants when it comes to identity. Are you Australian enough outside the walls of your house or are you too Australian within the confines of your ethnic and cultural background?
Sunday’s experience mirrors that of a new wave of first-generation African Australians in that there is a co-existence, rather than cultural conflict. In many ways, as someone part of an earlier wave of African migration, it is refreshing to hear this ease articulated with pride and curiosity.
“I find it a bit harder to relate to the dual identities just because I came to Australia when I was one, so I didn’t really get to experience life in Ethiopia or build that strong identity with Ethiopia,” she explained.
“It was never too much of a struggle for me growing up in Australia and having to deal with that. I loved embracing the culture. I loved speaking to my friends about the food that my mum cooked, and our language. I was always giving them little words and stuff in our language, including some bad words as well,” she laughed.
“I enjoyed giving people that education about what my background was, where I came from. Just letting them see a different side of Sunday.”
Her identity as a Ugandan–Ethiopian–Australian girl growing up in Perth wasn’t one she had to defend or decipher, but one she embraced instinctively.
This ease in her individuality goes a long way to gaining an insight into why representation took on a different significance as she emerged onto the national stage. Sunday Aryang wasn’t looking for it, she just stepped into it. Her journey wasn’t driven by a lack of belonging, but rather the opportunity to create a mirror for others who might need it more than she did.
For the kids who see her and say, “Maybe this sport is for me too.” And also, for the adults like me who look to her and say “Thank you for stepping in and embracing this role, although you didn’t ask for it.”
She is coming to comprehend more deeply what it means for kids of her heritage community. That’s the next chapter for Sunday—using her platform to create access. To reach back and pull others forward.
“There’s so many talented kids in our community but they’re stuck,” she laments. “They don’t know how to get through the pathway.”
“They all have dreams of ‘one day I want to play sport, and I want to do this’. They just don't know how to get out of it, to get to that place, which is something that I would love to see and be part of making happen.”
For an athlete who was once inhibited by a sense of shyness. Sunday is not only finding her voice and realising the ability it has to be transformative.
“I want to be able to use my voice and just amplify what needs to be shared around the world. My voice is being heard by a different group of people, you have just got to do it.
“When I first started playing, I thought if I make a name for myself that's the first thing I'm going to do. Being able to share my voice and being able to share stories of young girls around the world and highlight what happens around the world is just big to me.”
The introverted girl who stood above her peers still stands tall but somewhere between those early moments and now, she has grown into her presence. A voice once hesitant now is more assured and purposeful. For an athlete who once held her voice quietly, Sunday now steps onto the court with the full weight of purpose and also a sense of joy.
Joy in her younger sister Ruth’s rise. Joy in seeing netball emerge as a sport reflective of the Australia she knows, and her family embraced. Joy in wearing the coveted green and gold.
“When someone does bring it up to me, I'm so grateful, like I'm so happy for the position,” she said. “My parents sacrificed so much to get me to this stage in life, and if it wasn't for those sacrifices, who knows where I would be right now?”
“Everything that happened in my life in these last 24 years has happened for a reason, and it's got me to this point and this position right now.
“I'm so happy that I was able to make my parents proud because I think that was one thing for them - they want their kids to succeed.”
Sunday Aryang is comfortable in her skin.
It’s evident in every smile, the crinkle of her eyes in laughter, every considerate answer. It’s there when she walks out with her West Coast Fever teammates as they embark on another Super Netball season. In the proud tilt of her head towards Ruth and the connection with the fans post-match.
When she’s asked if she’s having fun, she lights up again.
“I am having so much fun,” she says, eyes twinkling. “These last couple of years I've been really enjoying my netball and just being in this environment at Fever.”
“Even this interview here, four years ago, maybe three years ago I would have been nervous. Feeling sick my stomach, scared. Instead, I was excited. A feeling of ‘I can't wait to just have a chat’.”
“I'm a different person now. I enjoy seeing the growth of netball. I enjoy seeing people succeed and all of that has been possible with netball.”
Sunday is still learning. Still evolving. But she’s doing it with grit, grace, humility, and, yes, joy that’s impossible to ignore. And yet as she does so she is sketching a new picture that includes a greater portion of Australia in our national tapestry.
It isn’t being done in a way that loud or showy – although that is okay too. But little fanfare. Just small, purposeful steps that slowly built into something far bigger than herself.
Written by Ann Odong
Ann is a Ugandan-Australian storyteller, strategist, and advocate who has spent the past 20 years championing the voices of women in football and culturally diverse communities across the world.
The [female] athlete project is Australia's fastest growing women's sports platform, spotlighting the stories and achievements of women in sport. Listen to the weekly podcast the wrap on apple or spotify, or sign up to our weekly newsletter here.
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