NIKKI WEBSTER
She’s only 20 years old, but already this songstress has released four albums and endured the scorn of the media. So how has the little girl who stole the show at the Sydney Olympics in 2000 survived her formative years?

By GEORGIA CASSIMATIS

I’m a Sydney girl. I was brought up in an ordinary suburb called Croydon Park, in a typical house – nothing extravagant. My upbringing was very down-to-earth. My mum’s a childcare worker and Dad’s an electrician. We took each day as it came.

Dance classes were my life as a child. I wasn’t sporty or athletic, so I went to dance classes and I felt really comfortable there. There was also an agency at the dance school, so I started going for auditions. My parents weren’t pushy. I never went to an audition thinking, I’m going to get in trouble if I don’t get this. I just loved what I did.

I had the gift of the gab. I’d walk into an audition and start talking my mouth off. My grandad took me to auditions and would wait in the car outside. He’d always ask me why I was in there so long and I’d say, “Oh, we were just yapping away.”

At school, the principal told my mum that I was the littlest one there with the biggest mouth. I was a small kid, yet I was confident. My brother tried to be the protective older sibling at lunchtime, but I would tell him to go away. My independence comes from Mum. She came to Australia by herself from London, on a working visa, at 18.

My role in the Sydney Olympics opening ceremony, in 2000, was just another audition. I auditioned for months to get the role of ‘hero girl’. But I wasn’t nervous at the thought of appearing in front of a worldwide audience of millions. When I was put into the harness that was going to help me fly, my rigger asked, “You’re not nervous?” and I said, “Why should I be?” He replied, “You’ll know after the ceremony.” I thought, as long as I hit my centre mark in the beginning and am lifted up, I’ll be fine.

I cried during the ceremony. When I ran off after the ‘nature’ segment, the crew asked why I was crying and I said, “Because I’ll never fly again.”

Life was insane after the Olympics. I had press camped on my front lawn. I sat in my kitchen going from one interview to the next with reporters from all over the world. My parents made pancakes and coffee for them. It was a surreal experience, but one I wouldn’t change for the world.

After all the hype, I became self-conscious. People looked at me all the time. It took me a while to accept how I’d affected people.

The tall poppy syndrome hit me hard. I was 14 when it happened and I’d just released my second album, Bliss. I remember two American reporters telling my mum to get me out of Australia or I was going to get screwed, because the way the Australian media works is to knock Aussie talent rather than support it. But Mum told them not to be “silly”.

I was bagged out by the media. I guess because I was a good girl who wasn’t hanging out in nightclubs at 3am, they had nothing bad to say about me, so they wrote hurtful things. If I’d done something wrong, then fine, but I hadn’t done anything. I started questioning my own being.

Puberty was hard for me. It was a time when I felt Australia hated me. It affected me a lot. When young people ask me what this industry is like, I tell them they need to have a love for it because if you’re not strong enough, you won’t get to the other side.

I felt angst growing up. But living in LA has helped me deal with that. I moved there for six months to focus on singing and songwriting, when I was 18. Now I go back for about five months every year, just to write, sing and produce music. While there, I have a lot of time to think things through. Sometimes I do wonder what my life would’ve been like had I not had success at such a young age. Would I still be doing the same thing or would I now be doing something completely different?

I did lose some of my childhood. It was an incredible childhood in terms of the people I met and the places I travelled to, but I didn’t live the normal life of growing up, going to school and hanging when I wanted to hang; I was working. But I don’t regret it – I just had a different life.

There’s a lot of pressure growing up in the spotlight. I was scared to be myself; I was worried about what people were saying. Now that I’m 20, I think, this is me – like it or lump it. I’m going to have fun and enjoy what I do.

Bert Newton has been my greatest supporter. I’ve known him since I was five, when we appeared in a musical together. He’d just call me every week to see if I was OK and he helped me get through a lot of stuff. Knowing he was there was great. I know that if I were in a dark hole, he’d be there in a second.

Learning to judge people has been my biggest lesson. I still don’t have that one right. It’s something I struggle with and cry about. When I’m by myself, I think, do I wear this thing around my head saying I’m an easy target? But I’m learning to surround myself with people that only have love for me and only have my best interests at heart.

I’m at home in the theatre. Whether I’m watching a show or I’m up on stage, I feel as though I belong there. I started doing musical theatre when I was five and it’s interesting that I’m doing it again. My last two roles have been playing ‘protesters’ in the Perth productions of Hair and Rent, so there’s some ‘protesting’ thing going on with me now [laughs].

I believe what you put out to the universe, you get back. If you’re positive, you’ll achieve positive things. My goal is to focus, stay positive and put it out there that I’m in this for the long run, and to make a go of my career, whether it’s in front of or behind the camera. But if it happens, it does – and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.

I’ll always be ‘that kid from the Olympics’ to a lot of people. It’s hard for Australians to believe I’ve grown up, which is sweet. I feel I have this whole country of parents who are a bit overprotective of me. So when they see me appearing on the covers of magazines such as Zoo and FHM, I understand it’s a shock. But it’s great to push the boundaries.

Source: Sunday Telegraph Magazine