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It is an honour to speak at the National Press Club today, joining the voices of many who have shared their visions for change. I acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, on whose lands we meet today. I pay my respects to Elders past and present, and I particularly recognise First Nations women I have worked with over the years and learnt from, such as my colleagues Commissioner Katie Kiss, Dep Vice Chancellor Michelle Trudgett and Profs Nareen Young and Larissa Behrendt, whose care for community, country and family has demonstrated a strong  model of leadership which challenges all of us.

I particularly recognise the support of my colleagues at the �����鱨վ, Commissioners Giri Sivaraman, Robert Fitzgerald and President Hugh de Kretser, the Senior leadership team and the Communications team. I am also grateful to all members of my team past and present, led by Christine Ratnasingham and specifically, for their collaboration in writing this speech, Rachael Scott and Caitlin Morahan. Thank you to my partner, children and family for coming today and their constant support of my work.

Today, I share my reflections two years into my term as Sex Discrimination Commissioner. I will speak about the priorities guiding my work, the impact of overlapping forms of discrimination, and the inclusive, community centred approaches we need to address gender inequality in Australia. 

Gender equality benefits all of us. And to achieve it, we must involve everyone. 

Over the last fifty years, we have made real progress in addressing gender inequality in Australia. 

When I reflect on some of the formative experiences in my working life, I remember the many strong and inspiring women I have worked with – clients, colleagues, and leaders across civil society, government, unions and business, who have contributed to this change. 

One of my first jobs as a new lawyer in the 1990s was in El Salvador, which was in the middle of a war at the time. I worked with women and girls, helping them learn about their legal rights. There was no Sex Discrimination Act, and limited protection for those experiencing family and domestic violence.

What has stayed with me most is the strength and determination of the women I met. I remember visiting them in their one-roomed homes along the railway track, and holding learning workshops in a tin shed with dirt floors. They always brought their children, as they shared stories about their lives – about violence in their homes and in their country, and about the challenges of unwanted pregnancies. They were determined to learn and speak out. 

That same strength was shown by the women leaders who ensured women were an integral part of the peace process in El Salvador. And I’ve seen that same determination in women here in Australia, in those who fought for the Sex Discrimination Act, paid parental leave, and paid domestic and family violence leave, among many other accomplishments.

Our achievements up until now, and the structures of equality we have, are the result of strong advocacy by leaders and communities across the country. But we must also acknowledge how far we still have to go.

To achieve gender equality, we need to make sure our understanding of it includes everyone. 

We must listen to those with lived experience of inequality and recognise how different forms of disadvantage combine. The concept of intersectionality, rooted in the Black feminist movement, helps us understand how aspects of identity and experience– like gender, race, disability, class, age or sexuality – combine to shape people’s experiences of discrimination and exclusion. It provides a strong framework for how we engage with systems issues around privilege and power. 

It’s why older women – who face both gender and age bias – are at greater risk of homelessness. It’s why an LGBTQIA+ woman with disability may struggle to access in-home care that respects both her identity and her support needs. 

When we centre diverse voices and lived experience, we deepen our understanding of what gender equality truly means. It’s not just about the concept of fairness - it’s about building policies, laws and that reflect the full spectrum of human experience.

Today, I want to explore four key areas that I believe are central to this work: gender norms, concepts of merit, economic equality and shared care, and gendered violence. To do this, I am going to trace the life of Diya. 

Born in Australia to parents who were forced to migrate from their home in Bangladesh, Diya grew up in Western Sydney with her parents, grandmother and twin brother. 

Before we begin Diya’s story, it’s important to understand the gender norms that shape her and her brother’s lives from the start. These norms reflect society’s expectations about how women and men should behave, express themselves, and take on roles within families and the wider community.

For Diya and her brother, these norms start the day they are born. People describe Diya as sweet and pretty. As for her brother, they say he’ll be brave and strong. 

As a child, Diya is encouraged to nurture – praised for helping her teacher and comforting classmates. Meanwhile, her brother is taught to take charge in group activities and to hide his emotions, especially if he’s sad or hurt. 

It’s these stereotypes that quietly influence their choices, confidence and opportunities. They dictate who speaks up in the classroom, who leads in the workplace – and who is believed when they speak out. What begins small can grow into powerful, limiting norms children will carry with them into adulthood. 

When I think about my experiences parenting a daughter and a son, I’m reminded how easily stereotypes can creep in – even with the best intentions. I try to encourage both my children in their sport, their academic and creative interests, and make space for each of them to talk about their worries, and not just their achievements. As children, making sure to teach them both to cook, and showing them that care and contribution at home is all our work. It's through our daily ways of being with each other that we challenge the everyday assumptions that lead to gender inequality.

We can only do this when we involve boys and men in the conversations. 

In March, the Netflix show ‘Adolescence’ had Australia talking. At home, among families and in classrooms, it started conversations on how negative attitudes and beliefs around gender can be absorbed online and in real life. The show didn’t only start conversations – it made history. Last week, Adolescence won eight Emmy Awards. These wins show that when we tell honest stories about gender, power and respect – people listen. The show has encouraged young people to question the messages around gender norms they’ve grown up with and consumed online. And we need to keep questioning them – because real change starts when we are given the tools to reflect, unlearn, and lead differently.  

Strict ideas of masculinity and femininity limit opportunities for everyone. They shape how we think we are expected to behave, what roles we’re allowed to take on, and how freely we can express who we are. For example: AFL is one of Australia’s most celebrated sports, and yet in the men’s game, only one player has come out as gay or bisexual in 129 years – and that was after retirement. Why? Because the type of masculinity celebrated in sport still sends the message that you must be tough, stoic and straight, and there is little room to be a different type of man. 

Diya sees this playing mixed Oztag with her brother. When she falls over, she is comforted and taken to the sideline to rest. When it happens to her brother, he is encouraged to get up, brush it off, and keep playing. 

If we want a culture of safety and respect, we need to invest in comprehensive and inclusive relationships and consent education from early childhood, so our children grow up learning empathy, emotional awareness and respect. 

This teaches Diya and her male peers to challenge stereotypes, understand mutual respect, and learn how to communicate about consent. It empowers all young people, regardless of gender identity or sexual orientation, to break free of those gender norms and feel free to be exactly who they are.  

When we talk about gender equality, we must be clear that means equal treatment of all genders, including trans and non-binary people. Around the world, we are seeing gender diversity being used as a weapon for ideological and political purposes. This is particularly unjust when it targets a group that already faces higher rates of violence and makes up less than 1% of the population. 

When we affirm and support a person’s identity, we reduce the risk of them being treated unfairly in everyday situations like walking down the street, applying for jobs, going to the doctor, or travelling. We reject the stigma that says trans people must hide who they are to be safe or accepted.  When we recognise trans rights, we recognise the worth and dignity of every person.

We need urgent and coordinated action from all levels of government — state, territory and federal. That includes ongoing funding for consistent and inclusive education that’s based on evidence, covering relationships, consent and sexual and reproductive health.

I’m now going to turn to concepts of merit. 

As Diya grows older, she becomes a disability care worker. But her journey into the workforce reveals another layer of inequality. Like many Australians, Diya works in a highly gender segregated occupation that has long been undervalued and underpaid.

These structural inequalities contribute directly to the gender pay gap. According to the latest data from the Workplace Gender Equality Agency, women earn 78 cents to the dollar of every man. The gap is even wider for First Nations women, who earn 65 cents to every dollar earnt by men. And despite progress, women also remain underrepresented in leadership positions across most industries.

A recent report by Jobs and Skills Australia found that only 1 in 5 workers work in occupations where there are roughly equal numbers of men and women. First Nations workers are more likely to work in highly gender segregated jobs, and often in labouring, health and education roles. Culturally and racially marginalised workers are overrepresented in hospitality, driving, IT, and in the low-paid health and care sectors. All of this impacts the gender pay gap. And it’s important to look at this data from different angles to understand how the gender pay gap affects people in different communities.

After five years as a care worker, Diya applies for a promotion. But another barrier that impacts her work opportunities is the outdated concept of ‘merit’, and how it is applied.

We often hear of people getting jobs “based on merit” – a concept introduced to counter nepotism and patronage.

Today, it’s often understood as giving opportunities to the ‘best person for the job’. Psychological research reveals that merit-based evaluations are prone to bias, particularly racial and gender bias, and advantages those who fit traditional stereotypes of ‘a professional’. It means that people tend to see merit in those who are ‘like them’. 

Jobs and Skills Australia found that ‘negotiation’ is often seen as a masculine skill linked to executives and leaders. Yet when age and disability support workers - many of whom are culturally and racially marginalised women and First Nations people - use negotiation skills daily to meet their clients’ specific needs, such as clients with dementia, it is not recognised in the same way. The undervaluation of these skills is gendered, and it is one reason why female-dominated jobs have historically been underpaid.

When Diya doesn’t get the promotion, she is told she is not the right fit for the role. It’s not because she lacks the skills and experience, but because she doesn’t fit the narrow image of what ‘merit’ is supposed to look like. Her brightly coloured clothes and jingling bangles are seen as ‘different’, and her quiet manner is mistaken for a lack of authority, especially when compared to the louder men around her. These men are often more likely to be seen as being meritorious and get promoted. And when they are eventually in leadership positions, they are more likely to offer job opportunities to those who look, think and act like them. This is how bias hides behind the language of merit, and how talented individuals like Diya are overlooked – not just for promotions, but for recognition and value.  

When we look at it through a systems lens, we can see how certain groups are excluded. To address this, we must rethink what we mean by merit. It could mean measuring merit based on a person’s potential for future growth, rather than past accomplishments. Or it could mean placing value in collective contributions as a team or organisation rather than an individual. We must critique the ideas of merit which reinforce the status quo and instead broaden our understanding of how leadership and collaboration must centre a diversity of skills, experiences and qualifications. 

The challenge is clear: to expand our concept of merit to reflect the full diversity of talent in our communities. When we do this, it enables us to value the full range of contributions people make – not just in the workplace, but also at home. 

A few years later, Diya and her partner decide to try and have a child. The changes in Australian law around parental leave provide an opportunity for Diya and her partner to share the care of any children they may have. But there are still barriers to accessing these entitlements. 

When the baby is born, Diya is the one to take parental leave. When her partner asked his manager about taking longer than two weeks off, he was told it was a busy time of the year, and asked ‘isn’t your partner going to look after the baby’? 

In many homes, relationships may be equal – until a child arrives. It is often the time when traditional gender roles quietly take over. Suddenly, for most families, it makes ‘more sense’ for the woman to step back from work and take on most of the care work, while the man stays in his role as the primary earner. This shift doesn’t just affect careers – it can reshape relationships. 

To create an Australia that sees caregiving as a shared responsibility, we must move away from rigid ideas that men are the breadwinners and women are the caregivers. We must change the narrative that taking parental leave is only for one parent. It’s time to recognise that being both a worker and a carer at the same time is the reality for most of us.

I am one of four children and both of my parents worked full-time, and so caring for us children and the household was work that needed to be shared. I remember my father taking me supermarket shopping with him every Saturday morning. We would chat away, my hand in his as we chose the groceries for the week. This nurtured the strong relationship I had with him and normalised the model of caring coming from both parents.

Sharing unpaid care work can help shape long-lasting patterns and perceptions within a family that nurturing, emotional support and domestic responsibilities are not gendered traits – they are human ones. 

Changing these patterns means more than offering parental leave. It means having workplace policies that enable both parents to look after a child, providing adequate pay during leave, and earmarking leave specifically for each parent – making it the default, not the exception. When leave is automatically available and parents have to opt out rather than opt in, it sends a strong message: that caregiving is valued, expected and supported. 

Another barrier to women’s economic equality is their experience of workplace sexual harassment. 

When Diya returns to work after parental leave, she is reporting to a new manager who starts making extra effort to talk to her, stares when she walks past him, and tells her how ‘beautiful’ her brown skin is. Diya tries to ignore him, but one day he pushes his body into hers when they are alone in a lift. She is shaken, but not totally sure that what happened would count as sexual harassment. When Diya speaks to HR about her manager’s behaviour, she is given a 50-page workplace sexual harassment policy to read. The policy tells her if she takes it further, she will have to give detailed evidence of what happened.  

Diya decides to go ahead, because she doesn’t want what happened to her to happen to anyone else. But when she makes a formal complaint, her experience is framed as a ‘misunderstanding’. She is pressured into signing a non-disclosure agreement. The NDA silences Diya - not just legally, but emotionally. She can’t warn others, seek justice, or even explain to her friends why she decided to leave her job. 

Sexual harassment in the workplace shows how power is misused.

For many years, I worked as a lawyer in a community legal centre, helping women who had been sexually harassed. I saw how discrimination law could help, but also where it fell short because it put so much responsibility on the woman. We can be proud that our laws now have a positive duty on workplaces – an obligation to prevent sexual harassment and sex discrimination before it occurs. This is a vital shift away from placing the burden on victim-survivors to report and moves toward a culture of prevention. Despite this, there is still a long way to go. 

We know from the fifth national survey on sexual harassment in Australian workplaces that 1 in 3 women experience workplace sexual harassment. For First Nations women, women with disabilities, LGBTQIA+ people and women from culturally and racially marginalised backgrounds, it is 1 in 2 women. Recognising this, my team and I spent six months in consultations across Australia as part of our Speaking from Experience project, hearing from over 300 people who had experienced workplace sexual harassment.

We focussed on diverse experiences so we could better understand how multiple forms of discrimination – like racism, homophobia, ableism and ageism – can intersect with gender discrimination to shape a person’s experience of harassment. 

Diya’s story is not unique. NDAs undermine the transparency that is essential for genuine accountability. Contributors to the project consistently noted that NDAs and confidentiality agreements perpetuate a culture of silence. They prevent us from identifying and addressing the drivers and barriers of workplace sexual harassment - especially when the victim-survivor is already facing systemic barriers like racism, visa insecurity and cultural stigma. 

One of the major achievements of the #MeToo movement was the sense of power and collective voice which women gained through speaking out. NDAs stifle this. That is why our report calls for an overhaul to the use of NDAs in workplace sexual harassment cases, banning them except where they are requested by a victim-survivor who also has access to legal advice.  

Diya’s experience shows us how her cultural background and her gender influenced her experience of sexual harassment. If we are to create effective and long-standing change to properly prevent and respond to gendered violence, we need to incorporate these kinds of experiences into our workplace responses. 

We need education that reaches the grassroots, delivered in partnership with community groups who work with those most at risk. We also need to know the true scale of the problem – which is why we need a national prevalence survey in 2026. 

Finally, I want to talk about domestic and family violence. 

Since the day I started as Australia’s Sex Discrimination Commissioner, 136 women have been killed in this country because of gendered violence. These numbers represent real women, living their ordinary lives, killed. 2 in 5 women have experienced intimate partner violence since the age of 15, and 1 in 5 have experienced sexual violence. 

We cannot accept this, and we must do better. But there is no one solution to this. 

Domestic and family violence is about the use of power and control over another in a relationship, driven by the gender and social expectations that create inequality. But violence doesn’t just persist because of individuals – it is also enabled by systemic failures. For example, victim-survivors are failed by the system when they call the police and are not believed or taken seriously, or when they cannot access safe housing or financial support. These gaps in our systems allow violence to continue.

Diverse women face even more risks when it comes to gendered violence. First Nations and culturally and racially marginalised women are more likely to be misidentified as the perpetrator of violence because of cultural misunderstandings, language barriers and disbelief, or behaviour which doesn’t fit the expected image of a victim-survivor. Perhaps she argues with police, and shows anger instead of tears. This can lead to devastating consequences like criminalisation, child removal and re-traumatisation. For women with disability, often it can be their carer on whom they rely for daily support who is violent. The abuse of older women by family members is rising at alarming rates yet remains one of the most hidden and underreported forms of violence in Australia. 

These women do not just have one experience - their experiences are shaped by factors such as race, faith, sexuality, gender identity, and settlement stage. Government responses need to reflect these complexities so they can properly support safety and recovery.

For example, First Nations women must be at the centre of reforms for their communities. Some years ago, I worked in Alice Springs establishing a domestic and family violence service. To create an effective service, I worked with local Aboriginal women’s groups to shape the appropriate response within each community and for each woman. For some, that response may be time in a refuge, or an apprehended violence order, or for the man using violence, time in a culturally appropriate, trauma-informed alcohol use program. 

We have seen that community-led justice reinvestment is an effective tool to address gender-based violence. Justice reinvestment addresses the underlying causes of crime and aims to stop it from occurring in the first place. It is a crucial shift away from governments coming in and telling communities what they think is best and moves towards what we know does work: handing over decision-making power and supporting solutions created by and for communities. In Bourke, the Maranguka justice reinvestment project developed an approach to family violence where support was provided to both the perpetrator and the victim-survivor in each incident. A men’s shed was built to give men somewhere they could go to cool down, positively connect with other men for support and take part in meaningful activities. This combined, shared power model reduced family violence by a third. 

Responses to gendered violence cannot be built on a single story. They must be shaped by the voices of First Nations women and informed by the lived experiences of culturally and racially marginalised people, women with disability and LGBTQIA+ communities. 

So today, I call on all of us - families, policymakers, government bodies, businesses, unions, community leaders – to move beyond words and into action. To create an Australia where women like Diya don’t have to face so many barriers to equality. 

I call on all levels of government – federal, state and territory – to ensure that women, in all our diversity, are not only heard, but are central to informing the policies that shape our lives. 

Let’s recognise that gender equality benefits everyone and challenge the outdated gender norms that limit all of us. We can build a culture where care is shared, and everyone’s potential is recognised. 

I call on our workplaces to redefine merit so it reflects the true breadth of Australia’s diverse capabilities, and confront how our current systems of recognition are shaped by gender and race. 

I call upon all of us to commit to ending gendered violence with a unified, community-led approach – one that prioritises prevention, accountability and safety.

And let’s run a national prevalence survey in 2026 so we can fully understand the impact of workplace sexual harassment and continue to work towards effective solutions. 

We are stronger, smarter, and more compassionate when every person is empowered to be who we are and given the opportunities to participate and thrive. Let's be courageous in our efforts, be bold and try something, even if it seems small. Let's centre equality in our lives. Because when we do, we don’t just change our society for the better, we change ourselves.