“This is me walking upstairs, and these are the kids up top in my loungeroom,” he says, after pulling out his phone to show a video of the joyous chaos that dominates his house. “Here’s one, here’s two, there’s another one sleeping in a crack just down there. This is like how I grew up in my grandmother’s house.”

From the outside, that might read as a description of chronic overcrowding, evidence of a housing crisis. From the inside, it’s a description of a family life rich in support and belonging.

Helping white Australia understand that the lens through which it views things isn’t the only one available is as much a part of what Betts is doing now as is supporting Indigenous kids in their journey into the mainstream. The books – which were self-published by him and Anna, and now have combined sales of more than 80,000 – are part of that.

So, too, is his speaking work, in which he talks to organisations and businesses about how to become more “culturally safe” for Indigenous and Torres Strait Islander people so that they have every opportunity to realise their full potential.

He doesn’t have to look too far for proof that it can work. He spent last year in a coaching role at Geelong, where he played his part in Tyson Stengle’s transformation from too-hard basket (after a string of off-field transgressions) to premiership player and All-Australian.

“He was the first delisted free agent to do that, so he’s created history,” Betts says proudly of the player he housed between clubs, and whom he calls “a son”.

If there’s a single word for what Eddie Betts is about these days it would probably be empathy. He wants organisations – be they footy clubs, the AFL, or businesses – to understand “that as Aboriginal people we start behind the line”. He took on his media work with Fox Footy, he says, because he was sick of seeing Indigenous issues discussed by four white guys on a couch.

“I wanted to go on it because I felt, ‘you don’t understand it, you don’t feel it, you don’t really get it, whereas I go through this, I feel it, I know what we have to do’,” he says.

The first of his kids’ books was all about spreading kindness. “It was easy to write,” he says, “because it’s my life, it’s the way I’ve been brought up. I like to treat everyone equally, treat people how you like to be treated, to be kind. It was easy to write because it’s the way I live my life. The hardest part was bringing it together.”

The second book, My People, was in part a response to the racism he faced after the first, My Kind, was published, and which he continues to face today. He shares with me a shocking story about being asked by a lifeguard to leave the public pool where he was playing with his two-year-old because an elderly white couple said he was making their grandson feel uncomfortable. This happened just last year.

Having a series on NITV is a great opportunity to show Indigenous kids just how far they can go, he says. And having it on Netflix at the same time might help shape the way non-Indigenous kids see the world, too.

“If I can’t educate the older generation, I want to start with the younger ones, I want to educate them,” he says. “That’s how we gradually make change.”

Email the author at kquinn@theage.com.au, or follow him on Facebook at karlquinnjournalist and on Twitter @karlkwin.