Footage published on Friday by the Daily Mail show Joyce, inexplicably sprawled on the ground next to a planter box in popular Canberra precinct (well known for its plentiful bars and pubs), Braddon. Joyce is filmed having a phone conversation with his wife Vikki Campion while uttering the words: “Dead f**cking c*nt”.

Joyce has admitted to drinking prior to the incident, suggesting that a cocktail of a “prescription drug” mixed with booze led to “certain things” happening.

This morning, Joyce told Seven’s Sunrise that “obviously I made a big mistake” and “there’s no excuse for it” but “there is a reason”.

“It was a very eventful walk home, wasn’t it,” he said.

“I should’ve followed … I’m on a prescription drug, and they say certain things may happen to you if you drink, and they were absolutely 100 per cent right. They did.”

Mr Joyce said over the weekend that the incident was “very embarrassing” and happened when he was walking back to his accommodation after parliament had risen late at 10pm.

“While on the phone I sat on the edge of a plant box, fell over, kept talking on the phone, and very animatedly was referring to myself for having fallen over,” he told the ABC in a statement.

What our reaction to this story says about us

On Saturday morning, my partner and I were talking (and laughing…a lot) about the footage over breakfast. Our response, like much of the nation boiled down to this: “Standard Barnaby”.

Memes circulated across social media, and some quick-thinking Canberran humorously chalked an outline of Joyce’s body next to the planter box where the incident took place. I shared it on our Women’s Agenda group Slack channel with three laughing emojis.

But this morning, as I was thinking more deeply about the situation, I was left with a profound sense of shame. Because I know, in my heart of hearts, that if a female parliamentarian were to act in the same way, my response wouldn’t be to laugh it off and deem it standard practice.

We have always given social and cultural licence to male politicians acting like they live in a frat house.

We lauded former Labor PM Bob Hawke’s “world record” allegedly achieved at Oxford University for a beer scull of a yard of ale in 11 seconds. The admiration 40 years on is still so strong that Hawke has a brewing company and multiple beers named in his honour.

When Tony Abbott missed a series of key parliamentary votes in 2009 because he was drunk and passed out on a couch, we shrugged it off. When he broke a table in his office after his election loss, we did the same.

When Kevin Rudd’s trip to a New York strip club was reported, voters loved it.

We let male politicians off the hook for what we deem as “laddish” antics, when really what we’re staring down the barrel of is a total disregard for their privileged and highly public positions as well as their duty to represent the interests of voters.

And Joyce has always been given greater leeway. In 2018, Jacqueline Maley wrote in The Sydney Morning Herald that a woman would not be afforded the “level of personal complexity” that Joyce is. We observe his regular transgressions and rather than question or condemn them, we relegate them to the wild world of Barnaby Joyce. It’s good to have a colourful character in parliament.

The prime minister’s response to Joyce’s latest misdemeanour is telling. Albanese firstly said the incident was a matter for the Nationals party, and avoided making a comment when asked about it during a radio interview on Friday.

When accused of sexism on the matter, Albanese then said Mr Joyce should explain himself.

But the truth is that Albanese wouldn’t have wanted to take an emphatic stance against Joyce’s conduct lest Australian voters accuse him of being a party pooper. No one likes a Barnaby buzz kill.

Yet, when Lidia Thorpe was filmed outside a strip club in Melbourne yelling explosively at a group of men (allegedly about Indigenous affairs), Albanese was swift and sharp in his condemnation. He described her behaviour as “clearly unacceptable” and urged her to “get some support”.

In 2021, Nationals Senator Sam McMahon lost her preselection race just days after accusations reared that she had been drunk in the parliament – which she denied and blamed instead on hypertension.

My point with this is not to condone the the abuse of alcohol by one group and not another, but to show how palpable the double standard is between men and women in politics. And how this double standard infiltrates and influences all of us.

Even me.

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Looking back at that time, Abbott’s election felt like a momentary blip in ‘politics as normal’. Dubbed the unelectable “Mad Monk”, his decisive victory against Kevin Rudd left many Australians (even supporters) scratching their heads. Surely this was an aberration that would soon be set straight?

Of course, as things rolled on, we started to realise that Abbott wasn’t an isolated issue, he was the tip of the iceberg for a coalition party ripe to rupture at the seams. An era of Abbott, Turnbull, Morrison and now Dutton leaderships ensued, illuminating how far wrong things could go?

Some other key take-aways from last night’s episode:

Tony Abbott’s myriad gaffes are much funnier in retrospect

Reflecting on the numerous times Tony Abbott embarrassed himself royally in public brings so much more joy now, than when he was leading the country. Now, we can look back on that classic onion chow-down and chuckle freely without worrying about his actual power and influence. The “suppository of wisdom” that knighted Prince Philip at a time he was already precariously low in the polls. Lols aplenty? “You bet you are”.

Fear campaigns still lie at the heart of the Liberal agenda

In what seemed like glee and admiration, colleagues like Eric Abetz and Michaelia Cash reflected on Abbott’s cunning ability to utilise three-word slogans to engender fear in the Australian populace. “Stop the boats”, “Stop the taxes”, lines that were drilled into our national psyche for months and caused Australians to stop caring about anything progressive and aspirational. More than a decade on, we see Peter Dutton employ similar fear campaigns in a bid to divide the country: “Boycott Woolworths”, et al.

Legacy matters nought for any of these blokes

Wyatt Roy recounted a conversation with Tony Abbott in which he queried the leader’s vision for the country. He didn’t receive a productive or professional response. The reason? Abbott could only ever fight for what he was against, not what he stood for. Turnbull showed promise for better things, but his commitment to the cause inevitably fell short. Why did we end up with an economically and socially costly plebiscite on gay marriage for instance, rather than a leader’s call? Morrison always cared more about politics (and God) than good policy. He openly admitted to “not thinking” about legacy. And Dutton? Well his time continues, but let’s just say the markers of anything impressive aren’t showing up strong.

Craig Laundy really hates tuna

In perhaps the oddest anecdote from last night’s episode, former MP Craig Laundy revealed that during a secret leadership spill meeting at Peter Hendy’s house, he was offered dinner. Upon finding out Hendy’s wife had dared to cook tuna mornay, Laundy suggested they order pizza because: “I really can’t do tuna”. Big stuff.

“You reap what you sow”

These are the words of Linda Reynolds and other colleagues reflecting on Turnbull’s inevitable ousting of Abbott. But is this what real leadership boils down to? We blindly accept that ego and revenge defined this long era in political history; that Abbott, Turnbull and then Morrison, were destined to fail because of their personal agendas and vendettas. But imagine, for a second, if each had played honourably? If they’d accepted democratic processes and just got on with it? It does beg the question: where would we be now? We might have more policies to be proud about.

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According to the European Union’s Copernicus Climate Change Service, the average temperature in 2023 was 0.17C higher than in 2016, (the previous record year) with the causes of increased global heating attributed largely to record emissions of carbon dioxide along with the natural climate phenomenon El Niño.

It was so hot in fact, that C3S director Carlo Buontempo described it yesterday as “a very exceptional year, climate-wise… in a league of its own, even when compared to other very warm years.”

But it won’t be exceptional for long. Ten days into 2024, there’s no sign of relief. While the world is yet to breach the 2015 Paris Agreement target of preventing global warming surpassing 1.5C, climate scientists warn that the figure is likely to eclipse that this year.

And we know that it’s women who will bear the brunt of climate change impacts both in Australia and across the world. It’s women who will lose job and education opportunities. It’s women who will face a myriad of adverse health affects. It’s women who will be left most vulnerable.

And it’s this knowledge of the escalation of climate change and ongoing heatwaves, coupled with the sheer injustice of society’s expectation on women to cover up, that really tips me over the edge.

Living on the Northern Rivers of NSW’s far north coast, days here in Summer regularly climb well beyond 35 degrees.

And, do you know what I see? I see women all around me suffering. I watch as they throw themselves down in coffee shops, breathing heavily and wiping sweat from their faces. Their visible bra lines digging into their shoulders, and shirts clinging mercilessly to sticky bodies. I see them grappling with small children and laptops and mental loads the size of Antarctica (which is incidentally where they’d rather be).

Men on the other hand? They casually stride around shirtless; on the street, in shopping centres, at parks, at the beach.

They don’t feel unsafe to do so. They don’t feel embarrassed. They don’t feel ashamed. They don’t (generally) feel uneasily sexualised and objectified.

While in Australia, indecent exposure laws only refer to the genital area, you will rarely, if ever, see a woman expose her breasts in public. You won’t see a woman, no matter how fed-up, hot or grossly uncomfortable she may be, casually strip off her top and stroll into the local IGA. (In recent days, I’ve seen six men do exactly that).

Why? Because we know that the simple action of making ourselves more comfortable would set an instant target on our backs. Not only of being publicly abused and ridiculed, but also the very serious threat of predatory behaviour; sexual harassment and assault. We know that male aggressors would be given greater licence by police to perpetrate these crimes than we would be to bare our breasts.

Moreover, despite federal laws supporting both men and women’s right to public toplessness, local councils impose their own rules. Topless women are often slapped with vague charges such as being a public nuisance, or committing offensive behaviour.

The double standard, when you sit and think about it for even a second, is incensing.

And with 2024 set to be hotter than the year before, perhaps a public protest of angry, topless women is high time.

Who’s in?

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The two brothers have only recently left the confines of their jail cells with both currently awaiting trial in Romania after being charged with multiple human trafficking and rape charges at the end of last year.

The photo being promoted of the interview features Morgan standing in a regal room between the two brothers lounging casually in arm chairs. All of them are suit-clad and a fire burns in the background. (The Tate brothers are, after all, very important people not just alleged rapists and abusers).

Unsurprisingly, the image has triggered a torrent of online backlash with women globally slamming Morgan’s decision to provide platform and airtime to arguably two of the world’s most dangerous men.

“No need to watch,” one stated.

“Thanks for the heads up. Something I definitely won’t be watching,” another agreed.

“Why would they be given air time? That’s literally half the problem of their misogyny being spread”, another commentator raged.

But despite the frustration from countless women, there were still a noticeable number of supporters excited about the exclusive with comments like “can’t wait”, and “amazing,” coming thick and fast.

Among Andrew Tate’s many viral videos as a self-proclaimed “misogynist” influencer, he claimed women “belong in the home” that they “can’t drive” and are “man’s property”. He also noted his preference to date women exclusively between the ages of 18-19 because he can “make an imprint” on them.

On multiple occasions, Tate also argued that women should “bear some responsibility” if they’ve been raped.

This is the second time that Morgan has interviewed Tate, with the first conversation happening in October this year.

The post Piers Morgan sinks to new depths with fresh Tate brother interview appeared first on Women's Agenda.

He revealed this for the first time of course, when he egregiously betrayed First Nations people by running a campaign of misinformation against the Voice to Parliament. His motive wasn’t formed by any true criticism of the proposal, but by an opportunity to seize on Australia’s worst impulses and embed fear and mistrust into our national psyche.

Dutton succeeded in the case of the Voice, but it was more from good fortune than shrewd operation. His reliance on Senator Jacinta Nampijinpa Price to carry the message through with expert communication was apparent. Peter Dutton walked in her formidable shadow like a bewildered rescue dog.

Like so many of his predecessors before, Peter Dutton shows that his politics is led by nought but power. He doesn’t know why he wants to lead or what his legacy will be, only that he wants to be there; in the top job as the top rescue dog.

As uninspiring as this may be, we’ve seen that this approach regularly works for Australian voters. In an age where people are routinely let down by their socio-enviro-economic reality, politicians who are adept at appealing to and spreading this feeling of discord are often rewarded by longer terms in government. They sell the idea that they “get it” when in truth, they’re often the most out of touch.

But these tactics are only rewarded when politicians are smart. When they take their time, tread carefully and read the room.

Dutton did the opposite this week when he recklessly lashed out at PM Anthony Albanese, and bizarrely conflated the release of 83 asylum seekers with the threat of antisemitism across Australia.

Bringing the criticism to question time on Wednesday, Dutton moved a motion calling on the House of Representatives to express its concern at rising antisemitism and the release of 80 people from detention.

“This prime minister needs to stand up and to be united with the Jewish community – and he’s not,” Dutton claimed.

In a jumbled spray of complaints, Dutton moved from the asylum seeker decision, the cost of living crisis, the last two budgets and the prime minister’s global travel.

A visibly furious Albanese shot back suggesting that Dutton’s attempt to link antisemitism with the decision by the high court was “beyond contempt”.

“I didn’t think that he could go this low as to link these two issues”, he said.

Albanese went on to condemn Hamas as terrorist organisation, but he also mentioned Palestinian deaths and the loss of innocent babies in Gaza.

While arguably a flimsy political stance, Albanese never deviated from the central message he and his party, including Foreign Minister Penny Wong, have been running for days: That Israel has a right to defend itself, but the way in which it does so, matters.

Dutton was left with nowhere to go in his impetuous overreach when Teal independents Allegra Spender and Zoe Daniel both jumped in to condemn his words. Spender, branded Dutton “reckless” While Daniel suggested his motive was “extremely dangerous” as it played games with antisemitism.

The Coalition lost the motion by 54 to 86 votes. Arguably the start of Dutton’s unravelling as Australians get a firmer read on his dangerous incompetence.

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Sussan Ley has called for a pause on the opening of new strip clubs this week and is calling for a national conversation about this issue.

Her comments follow community backlash over plans for a new establishment in her electorate, with Ley subsequently questioning the “moral value” for society in opening more of them. She followed on to suggest that the  “entertainment” offered, often degraded women and placed them at significant personal and financial risk. The safety of women working at these venues and whether they were being paid “fairly”, was paramount.

Responding to the story on The Daily Aus’s Instagram feed, Tarang Chawla, a prominent advocate against violence however, suggested strip clubs weren’t the reason some men weren’t respecting women’s bodily autonomy.

“Maybe we just need to work with the boys and men on attitudes and behaviour instead of telling women what to do/not do. But thanks for trying, Sussan”, he wrote.

While Georgie Purcell, a former stripper who now sits in the Victorian Parliament for the Animal Justice Party, wrote: “Just here to say sex work is real work, and it’s time that all politicians supported sex workers and legislated for them in the ways it is *actually* needed”.

“I respect the right of women to engage in this work. But we have to make sure it’s safe for them,” Ley responded to Purcell.

Speaking to Women’s Agenda this morning however, Purcell suggests that “the critical point that Sussan Ley’s missing is that in order to protect women, we must penalise them and forms of their employment, and it’s completely delegitimising sex work”, she says.

While Ley’s central thesis holds true, that strip clubs are often unsafe for the women who work in them, the answer is not to burn down the house and prohibit the sector altogether, but to explore the ways policies can be enacted to wholly support women working in this industry.

Purcell says that sex workers must feel safe in their place of employment and there are key measures that can be taken to make sure they are.

“Just because people are doing sex work doesn’t mean that they lose their bodily autonomy. It doesn’t make them devoid of consent which is something that many sex workers experience in their time. And because of the stigma around their work, they’re often hesitant to report misconduct because they know that authorities will see the fact that they’re doing that work as an open invitation for anything. We can better protect workers in clubs by ensuring that anyone who is particularly intoxicated or misbehaving is not welcome in that place and we need to take women’s reports seriously about repeat offenders in strip clubs and brothels.”

Purcell also notes the need for state governments to promote the work that they’ve done on decriminalisation, so that sector workers have resources about where they can go.

Not all states have decriminalised sex work, however. South Australia and Western Australia have taken no steps to change current legislation, while in Queensland, the current system still regulates sex work as prostitution, with sex workers stigmatised and vulnerable to exploitation and violence as a result.

Earlier this year, Queensland Attorney-general, Shannon Fentiman said the government was committed to decriminalising the sex work industry following a review into the current system.

“The commission found that the current laws stigmatise sex workers, increase their vulnerability to exploitation and violence and fail to protect their human rights,” Fenitman said.

“The review has provided the opportunity to consider how best to modernise our laws, support business in the state, and reduce discrimination and stigma associated with workers in the sex work industry.”

But Fentiman likewise stressed the centrality of “community expectations”– something that Purcell deems resoundingly unhelpful to progress.

“There’s still massive stigma around sex workers as workers, but that’s exactly what they are”, she says.

“And even using terminology, like ‘community expectations’, it’s not something that you would use about any other industry really– it’s only sex work where we’re talking about morality. That’s what I really believe they’re referring to. But the people in these industries do these jobs for a range of reasons, and are often doing them on top of other work. Because of the stigma associated with this work it’s something that many people keep secret which deters us normalising it”.

As a former stripper, Purcell adds that this is an experience she understands firsthand.

“I kept a secret that I was a stripper for a long time. But I knew that I had to share it with the public when I was becoming a politician, and when I did that, I had so many women come to me in all different workplaces in all different forms of employment. They had done the same thing and felt the fear hanging over their head that it would come out”.

And Sussan Ley’s perception of sex work reflects those same, stigma-laden “community expectations” that “throw women into the dark and make us feel like we have something to be ashamed of”, says Purcell.

This is ultimately what prevents governments moving conclusively toward decriminalising and normalising sex work, and in turn, protecting sex workers– the vast majority being women.

Ley’s Response

Ley wrote to Tarang Chawla, appreciating his thoughts on the matter and the work he does to advocate against violence.

“We know the key to stopping domestic violence is respectful relationships, and particularly building the empathy of young men,” she wrote.

“Do we honestly think we are on top of this? Far too often too many men, particularly during major life events like 18ths or Bucks parties, do not respectfully engage with women in this industry. As you know tackling domestic violence requires us to look across the board and I think this needs to be part of the discussion.

“The last thing we want is to make progress through educating boys and men only to have good work set back because we don’t ask the tough questions about the way too many men engage with this industry.”

Women’s Agenda understands Tarang Chawla has agreed to meet with Sussan Ley to discuss the matter further. Ley’s office says the Liberal MP has also reached out to Georgie Purcell but is yet to hear back.

The post Sussan Ley misses fundamental point in calling for strip club ban appeared first on Women's Agenda.

What she didn’t expect was that career pathway would formulate inside tech—an industry she’d always deemed as one for “geeky boys”.

But a chance break into a role at a training and development company in 1997 saw Warren working side by side with the IT manager and a passion for all things tech, rapidly form.

From there she went on to working at SAP, Microsoft, and Workday with roles in direct sales and building channel businesses.

Throughout it all, her mentors were men.

With few women in the industry at that stage, and fewer still at the decision-making table, Warren also noted a pervasive culture of women viewing each other as competitive threats.  

It was this realisation that saw Warren build ELEVACAO, a global pre-accelerator for women tech founders.

The 100% virtual program focused on founders in the early stage (pre-seed/seed) of business growth and went on to empower 175 women across the US and Australia to raise $100m+ and produce 3 Exits.

“It was, you know, this strange concept of women helping other women which just was not happening at the time. There’s just been a lot of talk and not enough action in the industry”, Warren puts it simply.

It was the success of ELEVACAO that solidified Warren’s mission to help women founders pull ahead.

“There’s something in me that that wants to see women successful. I want to see more billion-dollar businesses founded and led by women”, she says.

When the pandemic hit in 2020, funding for female founders dried up overnight but Warren’s initial instinct was to shift the dial. Contacting Kate Vale, former Google exec, she pitched the idea of starting a venture fund.

Vale jumped heartily on board with the idea, and the pair spent six months considering the investment thesis and the impact they wanted to have, setting up the back office. By 2021, they’d started fundraising and deploying capital.

Warren notes the pair’s belief “that the ideal founder is a combination of both Aussie and US,” but with Australian markets having been capital constrained for many years, the founders were focused on capital efficiency and thinking about revenue generation strategies from the outset.

ALIAVIA is uniquely based in California but investing exclusively in female tech founders in Australia and the US.

“If you get a combination of all those characteristics of an Australian founder with the US ambition and drive it works. You can’t build a venture scale business just focused on Australia. You have to expand out and quite often the next market is the US, but then to survive in the US. It’s so competitive”, Warren notes. “You need to think big you need to be competitive and really on your game so that’s why we like investing across both markets”.

While ALIAVIA, is open to all industries, Warren suggests some spaces where she’s seeing significant growth include health, fintech, media, entertainment, HR and data analytics.

The Fund is backed by well-known Aussie LPs including Carol Schwartz (Trawalla, EQT and Climate Council), Tattarang (the Forrest Family Office), Robyn & Victoria Denholm (Wollemi Capital Group), Dom Pym (Euphemia, Founder of Up Bank) and Cynthia Scott (Zip Co), and has already invested in Aussie startups including healthtech company, Eugene, Loupe, HowToo and Othelia AI. 

With just 2 percent of female-founded companies in the US per year securing VC funding, and the figure even lower for Australian-owned ventures, Warren knows how much we’re losing out on.

“We know that when you have a diverse leadership team, they make more money,” she says.

“Female founders, they’re more collaborative, build better innovation, get more of an understanding of the target demographic, you know? All of these things that equate to the end result of achieving on average, 35% higher ROI”.

Warren also suggests the need for more women at the managing partner level to have power over investment decisions as well as the importance of having an investment mandate to invest in female founders. A third critical driver she says, is having corporate quotas and KPIs to drive behaviour changes and to develop a gender lens on investment strategies.

She also criticises the cultural tendency to perceive female-owned ventures as “side hustles” but believes that overtime, and with true support in place, the tide will turn.

“You will still have those biases from old school. But I think what we can do about it, we’ve just got to help women to be successful and then start showcasing them.

Eventually that’ll start turning the tide and that’s what we started doing with ELEVACAO and now we’re transitioning with ALIAVIA, because people love following success and backing success and then eventually that’ll start turning the tide.”

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I instantly started googling; watching the social media tributes flood in and welling up at short clips shared of his greatest TV moments.

The show Friends, for which Perry was most beloved, was a hallmark of my childhood (and millions of other children of the nineties).

Typically devout ABC-only viewers, my parents made an exception for the gentle sitcom that was quickly garnering rave reviews. As a family, we’d sit together, relishing 30-minutes of easy entertainment that was uniquely suitable for all ages.

As I grew older, Friends never lost its impact. In truth, it became more significant.

As a 19-year-old experiencing an earth-shattering breakup, Friends was the only tonic. So much so, that a beautiful friend (in real life) bought me the entire box set, and spent four days with me devouring every precious line of witty repartee.

It peppered pivotal scenes for me during my time at university with long hungover mornings in doonas with flatmates…

Then, several years later, as a first-time mum during COVID, I developed chronic insomnia. Night after night, I’d lie on the couch with Friends quietly streaming in the background. The doom of continuous nights of no sleep were made significantly more bearable by the presence of Ross, Rachel, Monica, Phoebe and, Chandler. Always Chandler.

Matthew Perry’s portrayal of the goofy, emotionally-stunted, infinitely kind, and endlessly sarcastic character, was nothing short of masterful. His jokes (frequently ad-libbed) rarely fell short of the mark.

As the show’s co-creators Marta Kauffman and David Crane and executive producer Kevin Bright shared yesterday: “he was always the funniest person in the room”.

“All we can say is that we feel blessed to have had him as part of our lives. He was a brilliant talent. It’s a cliche to say that an actor makes a role their own, but in Matthew’s case, there are no truer words.”

This kind of warmth, familiarity and connection is hard to find in TV land. I’ve never felt it replicated in quite the same way as Friends managed to achieve through its characters. The dynamic between the six cast-mates was genius– they were so clearly, as the theme song suggested, there for each other.

Of course, Perry alluded to this in his recent memoir where he spoke of his co-stars rallying around him during his struggles with addiction. “It’s like penguins. Penguins, in nature, when one is sick, or when one is very injured, the other penguins surround it and prop it up. “They walk around it until that penguin can walk on its own,” he wrote.

And Friends quickly became the TV-equivalent of penguin solidarity for millions of people around the world.

The psychological impact of the series is profound. It has helped people connect, escape, reminisce and find moments of unadulterated joy in periods of turmoil. Matthew Perry’s talent was central to that.

As a person who has never met him, it seems self-indulgent to grieve his death, and in a world of unthinkable atrocities (amplified tenfold in the past few weeks) even more so.

But ultimately? We’re human. And celebrity deaths have the capacity to make us feel profoundly sad. It is the grief of a lost connection, their lost potential, our own mortality faced, and the void their death leaves in society.

In the case of Matthew Perry, it truly is the loss of a friend.

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We’d both known him since we were kids. His name was Tom, a business consultant in Sydney’s Eastern Suburbs who loved to talk about his corporate travel and numerous divorces.

Bailing on in, Tom’s arm was quickly slung across my brother’s shoulders as he proceeded to ask him about his work.

My brother, who runs a successful public affairs business, filled in the gaps. They spoke jovially together until Tom, about 20 minutes later, turned to me and asked: “So what are you doing?”

I answered: “I co run a small, independent media company. Our main site is called ‘Women’s Agenda’.

“Women’s A-gender?”, Tom instantly responded. Sarcasm dripping from his voice as he chuckled at his own supposed brilliance. I could tell instantly that he had no interest in actually hearing about my business; the news we cover daily nor the near one-million women that engage with us each month.

And my initial response was to laugh it off. To pretend that Tom had cracked an absolute winner that deserved validation.

But instead, I furrowed my brow and snorted. “Yep, you got me” I said, before walking away.

The incident didn’t leave me rattled but it did leave me seething.

I knew that my brother could have told Tom he was licking paint for a living and he would have been impressed. But there I was, a 32-year-old entrepreneur with two small kids, a media company bootstrapped and thriving, made to feel as small as a thumbtack.

This is a common experience for female entrepreneurs. Despite women accounting for around one third of Australia’s small business owners, and the number of female small business owners increasing by 24 per cent between 2006 and 2021, more than three times the growth of men, the social perception of women in business has a long way to go.

So many friends of mine running businesses cite similar frustrations about being dismissed, and there are complex, systemic barriers at play.

No matter the earning potential or scaleability of a woman’s business, there’s still a long-held social and cultural expectation that women “do it all”. Yes, you can run your business, but make sure you do it in between school drop offs, preparing dinner and maintaining all the household life-admin and mental load. Make sure you do it in between supporting your husband’s more important aspirations, and never drop the ball because no one will be there to pick it up.

Yes, the tide is slowly turning, and there are families running in more egalitarian ways, but GEEZ, the road is long.

My friend runs a successful make-up business on the northern rivers. She manages everything from weddings to festivals to celebrity photoshoots. She also has three boys under the age of 10. Her husband, a builder, works away. Lisa works on weekends– still making excellent money in small windows.

Last week, we had lunch together. Lisa, my successful, exceptional friend, said quietly: “Whenever anyone asks me about my business, they refer to it as ‘little’. ‘How’s your little makeup business going'”.

Her little make-up business for the record, is booming. Her talent supports her family, and enables her to be there for her sons. She’s making a full-time salary on weekend hours.

Women-owned ventures are too often relegated to the space of “side hustle”. There’s a persistent thought that women run businesses only to attain flexibility– so they can juggle busy home-lives and high-flying husbands.

It’s a sad trope that explains a lot about the obscene gap in VC funding handed to women founders– currently sitting at about 2% annually. Women are missing out on critical opportunities for investment and to scale. And Australia’s missing out as a result.

If we want to see that trend shift? I’d suggest we start taking women-owned ventures seriously.

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In truth, I’ve always been upfront about my political and social standpoint. The many opinion pieces I’ve penned over the last decade are testament, and I hate the notion that certain conversations are off the table: money, politics, sex… serve them all up, I say.

But yesterday, I put my new cap on for the first time and I instantly felt… fear.

I live in a regional town in northern NSW. Its population is just over 7000.

The community is a distinct mix of young professionals and families who have recently thrown the towel in on big city life, and staunch locals who have lived in this beautiful spot for decades. As a result, there’s a palpable divergence on attitudes and feelings from everything from the latest cellular tower to the bakery turning into a bottle-o.

But this divergence ultimately runs deeper. A few people around the neighbourhood in recent weeks have proudly stuck up posters supporting The Voice. They have been swiftly ripped down by ‘No’ supporters.

There’s a persistent narrative that The Voice is divisive– a line adopted straight from the Peter Dutton handbook.

When I queried a neighbour about why she felt the same, she told me that “everything’s she’s heard, points to it dividing the country”.

It’s a staggering take, but sadly a far-reaching one. Too many Australians perceive The Voice as a policy that will rupture us.

Instead of seeing it for what it is, a simple step in recognising First Nations people in our constitution and finally listening to them, we’re folding to the rhetoric of fear and falsehoods. We’re allowing something that should unite us, to do the very opposite.

Of course, it was a sharp, albeit egregious ploy by Dutton. Backflipping on the LNP’s support for The Voice in April this year, made the issue an instant, red-hot, political football.

Before this, all published opinion polls showed the proposal had majority or near-majority support in every state and territory. But after the Liberal Party’s thumping defeat in the Aston byelection, Dutton knew his only hope was to cling to the one, failsafe approach for conservatives: division. He knew Australians would capitulate.

Two weeks out from the referendum and the polls indicate that 44 per cent (up 8% points since May) of Australians will vote ‘No’ to establish an ‘Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice’ at next month’s referendum if it were held today according to Roy Morgan. Only 39 per cent (down 7% points since May 2023) say they would vote ‘Yes’ and a further 17 per cent (down 1% point) are ‘Undecided’ on how they would vote.

And while I’ll continue to wear my cap and hang my posters, I know that I’ll face plenty of uncomfortable conversations in the next fortnight. I can feel a thousand critical eyes seared into me as I walk down the street. And the truth is, my town isn’t an anomaly.

It makes me wonder, how did we get to this point?

The post I bought a cap in support of The Voice. I’m nervous to wear it. appeared first on Women's Agenda.

Examining the experience of 800,000 women in 185 countries, the study showed inequality and discrimination are exacerbating cancer risks and impeding women from receiving a timely diagnosis and quality care.

Health experts are therefore calling for a “feminist approach” to change these outcomes in cancer worldwide, with women dying needlessly every year because they are denied optimal care.

Worldwide, there was found to be a stronger focus on “women’s cancers” – including breast and cervical – despite lung and colorectal cancer being among the top three causes of deaths from the disease, researchers said.

“About 300,000 women under 70 die each year from lung cancer, and 160,000 from colorectal cancer: two of the top three causes of cancer death among women, globally”, Dr Isabelle Soerjomataram, a co-chair of the commission said.

Women are also missing out on critical professional development as leaders in cancer research, practice and policymaking, which contributes heavily to the lack of women-centred cancer prevention and care, the report adds.

“The impact of a patriarchal society on women’s experiences of cancer has gone largely unrecognised,” Dr Ophira Ginsburg, a senior adviser for clinical research at the National Cancer Institute’s Centre for Global Health and a co-chair of the commission said.

Ginsburg added that the focus on women’s health needs a more nuanced and comprehensive lens.

“Globally, women’s health is often focused on reproductive and maternal health, aligned with narrow anti-feminist definitions of women’s value and roles in society, while cancer remains wholly underrepresented.

“Our commission highlights that gender inequalities significantly impact women’s experiences with cancer. To address this, we need cancer to be seen as a priority issue in women’s health, and call for the immediate introduction of a feminist approach to cancer.”

According to a second study published in the Lancet Global Health there were 1.5 million premature cancer deaths in women under 70 in 2020. They could have been prevented through the early addressing and elimination of risk factors or via early detection and diagnosis.

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This was a question posed by a woman in The Sydney Morning Herald’s comments section today. And, let’s face it, it’s a fair one.

Over the weekend, we witnessed scores of Australians rallying harmoniously in support of an Indigenous Voice to Parliament. They donned badges, t-shirts, hats and held placards with messages of solidarity and support.

As a fellow ‘Yes’ supporter, it was heartening. Moments like these make us see how much good intent there is among voters.

Those who support the October 14 referendum are proud of their decision. Often, they will happily debate the pros of the legislation in a bid to sway others sitting on the fence. They want to campaign and volunteer and adorn their houses with ‘Yes’ posters.

 Prominent figure heads and celebrities who back The Voice, feel this same commitment to speak up. They know what’s at stake if we fail to back this in. If you feel passionately about Australia’s responsibility to get things right, it’s near impossible to stay silent.

When one of Australia’s most revered and nationally beloved singer-songwriters John Farnham lent his iconic song “You’re the Voice” to the campaign (the first time he’d allowed the song to run with any form of advertising), he noted:

“This song changed my life. I can only hope that now it might help, in some small way, to change the lives of our First Nations peoples for the better.”

Where then, is this same conviction from the ‘No’ side?

Why aren’t we seeing ‘No’ campaigners out in the streets, brochures in hand, gently persuading those around them to follow suit?

Why aren’t we seeing high profile figures (leaving aside former or current politicians with palpable agendas) publicly speaking out about the perceived challenges ahead and their fierce resolve against a change in our constitution?  

Where are the protests? The rallies? The flags? The hype?

Nowhere.

Instead, most of those voting ‘no’, are either staying mute or frenetically punching out their disgruntlement on computer keyboards across the country. They know their position is contentious, so they’re keeping their face out of the debate. They know their decision doesn’t reflect them favourably.

For the worst of the ‘no’ voters, the behaviour is more insidious. They’re spouting racism and bigotry in dark corners of X. They’re using this moment in history to capitalise on the worst impulses of their fellow citizens and succumbing to the fear and toxicity themselves.

Voting is a freedom we, as Australians should never take lightly. It’s a right, yes. But it is also a firm privilege. If you are not open or proud of the way you vote, the way you perceive the world, perhaps it’s time to take stock.

If you’re not proud of your vote, imagine how disappointed First Nations people are.

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