At 14, Brett gave his sister a note and hid in the bathroom. Then she knocked on the door

3 months ago 22

By Dani Valent

November 13, 2025 — 11.00am

Brett Duncan, 39, and his sister, Jess Colgan, 41, run a vegan cake business in West Melbourne. Brett, a qualified pastry chef, is deaf; Jess is a social-enterprise CEO who advocates for people with disabilities.

he hugs me,” says Jess. “I often feel I don’t deserve his patience.”

Brett: It’s not easy navigating a hearing world. I can hear about 5 per cent of what other people can and listening carefully is very tiring. Jess has always spoken clearly to me and asked others to speak clearly, too, but I’m shy and worried I’ll annoy people. Even when we were kids, Jess always involved me in conversations and wasn’t afraid to ask people to repeat themselves. Sometimes I pretend I know what someone has said, but Jess knows when I’m not being honest.

I had a cochlear implant when I was three. At the time, I was the youngest person in the world to receive one and only the 100th ever. Jess and I had our own sign for “I love you” and we said it all the time. We used to play our own hiding game. We’d turn off the lights so it was pitch-black. If you found the other one by touching them, you’d yell, “Rah!” I always found good spots, like on a chair underneath the table.

I was scared to tell Jess I was gay. When I was 14, I wrote it down, gave her the piece of paper, then locked myself in the bathroom. When I heard a knock, I opened the door slowly. She said, “I love you no matter what.”

These days, I travel by myself every year, but my first experience of independent travel was going to London to meet Jess when she was 22. We were in Scotland and people on the bus thought we were a couple: we were horrified. It’s not the only time it’s happened. We don’t look alike and people see our closeness.

GingerSnap made more than 2000 vegan, tennis-ball-shaped tarts for the Australian Open.

One night during lockdown, I made Jess a caramel chocolate tart. It sparked the idea for GingerSnap, our vegan patisserie. I’d been working at Bakers Delight and Crown casino and was terrified of doing our own thing, but she helped me believe in my abilities. She does the planning and bookkeeping and makes phone calls; I create the desserts, which we sell online, at pop-ups and events. She’s also the first taste-tester. She told me the tiramisu was awful. She was right: the cream was lumpy and the sponge fingers wouldn’t soak up the coffee. Vegan tiramisu is a hard one. A highlight for us was making a tennis ball-shaped tart which became a sensation at the AO in January. We made more than 2000. It meant the world to me to make something vegan and gluten-free that everyone loved.

I have complex PTSD. When I was 22, I met a guy on a dating app and a group of people attacked us; I was kicked in the head seven times. I told Jess the next day. Whatever happens, she’ll hug me, let me know she loves me as a deaf man and a gay man. I forget that sometimes and I shut off. I often feel worthless, that there’s no point sharing my troubles. But good things happen, too, like being an uncle to Jess’s two kids, Harry and Ella [11 and 9]. They bring meaning to my life. Ella became vegetarian because I’m vegan and it’s been nice to see her memorise the Auslan signs I’ve taught her.

Because people can’t see my disability, they often can’t grasp my challenges. Jess may not know exactly what it’s like to be deaf, but she understands deafness. She’s my biggest supporter, loving me unconditionally and helping me reach for my dreams.

Jess with Brett on his first day of school.

Jess: I remember going to the hospital on Brett’s third birthday when he’d just had his cochlear implant. It was overwhelming: the significance of the operation, the bandage around his head, a drip in his foot. I don’t know if it was just the fact of being an older sister or whether it came from knowing he needed more support, but I felt like protecting Brett from when I was little. We went to an integrated primary school with a deaf school on site. Brett was a naughty kid. One day, I saw him being carried across the schoolyard by four teachers, one limb each. I was horrified, but also embarrassed. I now understand that he was acting out because he was frustrated. It hurts to think how little I knew about what he was going through.

As teenagers, we drifted apart a bit. Our parents split up and I found myself more focused on the adults. I did well in high school and went on to uni. My friends would come over, we’d get ready, have parties. Brett never had friends come over; he didn’t finish school. I made sure he was included, though. I told my friends to speak clearly, directly to his face, and if you have to repeat yourself five times, get over it: that’s just what you have to do. I always liked having him around, asking his opinion. Brett typed my year 12 VCE results on a piece of paper and stuck it on the fridge; he wanted to show how proud he was of me. Brett thought I was soaring in the world and he was being left behind. It makes me sad to think about that now; I could’ve done more to support him. We’ve talked about it.

‘People get underestimated … if you give somebody the right support, they can soar.’

Jess Colgan

When he was about 19, Brett felt a lot of shame around who he was and where he fit in. The way it came out was that he’d go missing for days on end. It was so stressful. He thought, “I’m worthless, so it’s not going to bother anyone.” But he’s the most important person in my life, so if I’m worried about him, I crack it. The tension is about loving each other so fiercely and not meeting at the same point. Even now, I tell him if he doesn’t answer a text message, it’s triggering for me.

Starting GingerSnap has been the best thing we’ve done together – challenging and reaching potential we didn’t realise we had. I want Brett to have a big life, to be known as one of the most innovative pastry chefs in Australia. We’re closer than we’ve ever been. The first thing he does in the morning and the last thing he does before I leave is give me a hug. When I get moody or rude, he doesn’t get mad: he hugs me. I often feel I don’t deserve his patience. He’s taught me so much. I’ve learnt how people get underestimated, and that if you give somebody the right support, they can soar. That is the gift of Brett: I want to spend the rest of my life helping people push beyond the box the world puts them in. He’s helped me work out my purpose.

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