Public education is at a crossroads. Federal funds for public education have been threatened over the Trump administration’s war on DEI. Mental health funds for schools have been cut. The federal government’s move to slash AmeriCorps programs is already hitting classrooms in low-income ZIP codes hard. And all the while, teacher shortages continue to rise, and stark disparities in educational opportunities persist.
The future of our students depends on how we invest in and support our educators, especially teachers of color, who face systemic barriers to recruitment and retention despite their vital role in student success.
Adelaide Tovar, a University of Michigan scientist who researches genes related to diabetes, used to feel like an impostor in a laboratory. Tovar, 32, grew up poor and was the first in her family to graduate from high school. During her first year in college, she realized she didn’t know how to study. But after years of studying biology and genetics, Tovar finally got proof that she belonged.
Tallahassee, FL – On Thursday, April 3, Students for a Democratic Society crashed the FSU president’s ice cream social, demanding answers about the university’s subservience to President Trump’s and Governor Desantis’ attacks on DEI initiatives and free speech.
Four members of SDS approached President Richard McCullough with a banner reading “Fight Trump and the GOP agenda! Stand with Palestine! Stop attacks on immigrants! Defend women’s and LGBTQ+ rights!”
After waiting in line for ice cream, SDS member JJ Glueck was refused service by McCullough. The president hid behind student volunteers upon seeing SDS.
Government suppliers that fail to start closing their gender pay gaps face new barriers in winning federal contracts worth billions of dollars, after gender equality laws passed parliament on Wednesday. The new rules can apply to businesses with 500 or more employees and could hit Canberra’s tech suppliers especially hard, with several dealing with large…
With the sudden departure of New Zealand’s Reserve Bank Governor, one has to ask whether there is a pattern here — of a succession of public sector leaders leaving their posts in uncertain circumstances and a series of decisions being made without much regard for due process.
It brings to mind the current spectacle of federal government politics playing out in the United States. Four years ago, we observed a concerted attempt by a raucous and determined crowd to storm the Capitol.
Now a smaller, more disciplined and just as determined band is entering federal offices in Washington almost unhindered, to close agencies and programmes and to evict and terminate the employment of thousands of staff.
This could never happen here. Or could it? Or has it and is it happening here? After all, we had an occupation of parliament, we had a rapid unravelling of a previous government’s legislative programme, and we have experienced the removal of CEOs and downgrading of key public agencies such as Kāinga Ora on slender pretexts, and the rapid and marked downsizing of the core public service establishment.
Similarly, while the incoming Trump administration is targeting any federal diversity agenda, in New Zealand the incoming government has sought to curb the advancement of Māori interests, even to the extent of questioning elements of our basic constitutional framework.
In other words, there are parallels, but also differences. This has mostly been conducted in a typical New Zealand low-key fashion, with more regard for legal niceties and less of the histrionics we see in Washington — yet it still bears comparison and probably reflects similar political dynamics.
Nevertheless, the departure in quick succession of three health sector leaders and the targeting of Pharmac’s CEO suggest the agenda may be getting out of hand. In my experience of close contact with the DHB system the management and leadership teams at the top echelon were nothing short of outstanding.
The Auckland District Health Board, as it then was, is the largest single organisation in Auckland — and the top management had to be up to the task. And they were.
Value for money
As for Pharmac, it is a standout agency for achieving value for money in the public sector. So why target it? The organisation has made cumulative savings of at least a billion dollars, equivalent to 5 percent of the annual health budget. Those monies have been reinvested elsewhere in the health sector. Furthermore, by distancing politicians from sometimes controversial funding decisions on a limited budget it shields them from public blowback.
Unfortunately, Pharmac is the victim of its own success: the reinvestment of funds in the wider health sector has gone unheralded, and the shielding of politicians is rarely acknowledged.
The job as CEO at Pharmac has got much harder with a limited budget, more expensive drugs targeting smaller groups, more vociferous patient groups — sometimes funded in part by drug companies — easy media stories (individuals being denied “lifesaving” treatments), and, more recently, less sympathetic political masters.
Perhaps it was time for a changing of the guard, but the ungracious manner of it follows a similar pattern of other departures.
The arrival of Sir Brian Roche as the new Public Service Commissioner may herald a more considered approach to public sector reform, rather than the slightly “wild west” New Zealand style with the unexplained abolition of the Productivity Commission, the premature ending of an expensive pumped hydro study, disbandment of sector industry groups, and the alleged cancellation of a large ferry contract by text, among other examples of a rather casual approach to due process.
The danger we run is that the current cleaning out of public sector leaders is more than an expected turnover with a change of government, and rather a curbing of independent advice and thought. Will our public media agencies — TVNZ and RNZ — be next in line for the current thrust of popular and political attention?
Major redundancies
Taken together with the abolition of the Productivity Commission, major redundancies in the public sector, the removal of research funding for the humanities and the social sciences, a campaign by the Free Speech Union against university autonomy, the growing reliance on business lobbyists and lobby groups to determine decision-making, and the recent re-orientation of The New Zealand Herald towards a more populist stance, we could well be witnessing a concerted rebalancing of the ecosystem of advice and thought.
In half a century of observing policy and politics from the relative safety of the university, I have never witnessed such a concerted campaign as we are experiencing. Not even in the turmoil of the 1990s.
We need to change the national conversation before it is too late and we lose more of the key elements of the independence of advice and thought that we have established in the state and allied and quasi-autonomous agencies, as well as in the universities and the creative industries, and that lie at the heart of liberal democracy.
Dr Peter Davis is emeritus professor of population health and social science at Auckland University, and a former elected member of the Auckland District Health Board. This article was first published by The Post and is republished with the author’s permission
Australia’s tech workforce is growing at twice the national average. Tech exports have doubled in the past decade, making the sector one of Australia’s fastest-growing economic drivers — but there’s a disconnect. Demand for tech workers has never been higher, and the talent is out there, yet outdated hiring practices and biases are keeping them…
One of government’s biggest technology service sellers has ditched diversity policies in the shadow of the Trump administration, raising questions about how it can remain a responsible supplier. Accenture, which has inked nearly 1,000 federal contracts in Australia worth more than $7 billion, this month announced it is ditching gender quotas and other diversity, equity…
The re-election of Donald Trump is proof that the Right’s most powerful weapon is media manipulation, ensuring the public sphere is not engaged in rational debate, reports the Independent Australia.
COMMENTARY:By Victoria Fielding
I once heard someone say that when the Left and the Right became polarised — when they divorced from each other — the Left got all the institutions of truth including science, education, justice and democratic government.
The Right got the institution of manipulation: the media. This statement hit me for six at the time because it seemed so clearly true.
What was also immediately clear is that there was an obvious reason why the Left sided with the institutions of truth and the Right resorted to manipulation. It is because truth does not suit right-wing arguments.
The existence of climate change does not suit fossil fuel billionaires. Evidence that wealth does not trickle down does not suit the capitalist class. The idea that diversity, equity and inclusion (yes, I put those words in that order on purpose) is better for everyone, rather than a discriminatory, hateful, destructive, divided unequal world is dangerous for the Right to admit.
The Right’s embrace of the media institution also makes sense when you consider that the institutions of truth are difficult to buy, whereas billionaires can easily own manipulative media.
Just ask Elon Musk, who bought Twitter and turned it into a political manipulation machine. Just ask Rupert Murdoch, who is currently engaged in a bitter family war to stop three of his children opposing him and his son Lachlan from using their “news” organisations as a form of political manipulation for right-wing interests.
Right-wingers also know that truthful institutions only have one way of communicating their truths to the public: via the media. Once the media environment is manipulated, we enter a post-truth world.
Experts derided as untrustworthy ‘elitists’
This is the world where billionaire fossil fuel interests undermine climate action. It is where scientists create vaccines to save lives but the manipulated public refuses to take them. Where experts are derided as untrustworthy “elitists”.
And it is where the whole idea of democratic government in the US has been overthrown to install an autocratic billionaire-enriching oligarchy led by an incompetent fool who calls himself the King.
Once you recognise this manipulated media environment, you also understand that there is not — and never has been — such as thing as a rational public debate. Those engaged in the institutions of the Left — in science, education, justice and democratic government — seem mostly unwilling to accept this fact.
Instead, they continue to believe if they just keep telling people the truth and communicating what they see as entirely rational arguments, the public will accept what they have to say.
I think part of the reason that the Left refuses to accept that public debate is not rational and rather, is a manipulated bin fire of misleading information, including mis/disinformation and propaganda, is because they are not equipped to compete in this reality. What do those on the Left do with “post-truth”?
They seem to just want to ignore it and hope it goes away.
A perfect example of this misunderstanding of the post-truth world and the manipulated media environment’s impact on the public is this paper, by political science professors at the Australian National University Ian McAllister and Nicholas Biddle.
Stunningly absolutist claim
Their research sought to understand why polling at the start of the 2023 Indigenous Voice to Parliament Referendumshowed widespread public support for the Voice but over the course of the campaign, this support dropped to the point where the Voice was defeated with 60 per cent voting “No” and 40 per cent, “Yes”.
In presenting their study’s findings, the authors make the stunningly absolutist claim that:
‘…the public’s exposure to all forms of mass media – as we have measured it here – had no impact on the result’.
A note is then attached to this finding with the caveat:
‘As noted earlier, given the data at hand we are unable to test the possibility that the content of the media being consumed resulted in a reinforcement of existing beliefs and partisanship rather than a conversion.’
This caveat leaves a gaping hole in the finding by failing to account for how media reinforcing existing beliefs is an important media effect – as argued by Neil Gavin here. Since it was not measured, how can they possibly say there was no effect?
Furthermore, the very premise of the author’s sweeping statement that media exposure had no impact on the result of the Referendum is based on two naive assumptions:
that voters were rational in their deliberations over the Referendum question; and
that the information environment voters were presented with was rational.
Dual assumption of rationality
This dual assumption of rationality – one that the authors interestingly admit is an assumption – is evidenced in their hypothesis which states:
‘Voters who did not follow the campaign in the mass media were more likely to move from a yes to a no vote compared to voters who did follow the campaign in the mass media.’
This hypothesis, the authors explain, is premised on the assumption ‘that those with less information are more likely to opt for the status quo and cast a no vote’, and therefore that less exposure to media would change a vote from “Yes” to “No”.What this hypothesis assumes is that if a voter received more rational information in the media about the Referendum, that information would rationally drive their vote in the “Yes” direction. When their data disproved this hypothesis, the authors used this finding to claim that the media had no effect.
To understand the reality of what happened in the Referendum debate, the word “rational” needs to be taken out of the equation and the word “manipulated” put in.
We know, of course, that the Referendum was awash with manipulative information, which all supported the “No” campaign. For example, my study of News Corp’s Voice coverage — Australia’s largest and most influential news organisation — found that News Corp actively campaigned for the “No” proposition in concert with the “No” campaign, presenting content more like a political campaign than traditional journalism and commentary.
A study by Queensland University of Technology’s Tim Graham analysed how the Voice Referendum was discussed on social media platform, X. Far from a rational debate, Graham identified that the “No” campaign and its supporters engaged in a participatory disinformation propaganda campaign, which became a “truth market” about the Voice.
The ‘truth market’
This “truth market” was described as drawing “Yes” campaigners into a debate about the truth of the Voice, sidetracking them from promoting their own cause.
What such studies showed was that, far from McAllister and Biddle’s assumed rational information environment, the Voice Referendum public debate was awash with manipulation, propaganda, disinformation and fear-mongering.
The “No” campaign that delivered this manipulation perfectly demonstrates how the Right uses media to undermine institutions of truth, to undermine facts and to undermine the rationality of democratic debates.
The completely unfounded assumption that the more information a voter received about the Voice, the more likely they would vote “Yes”, reveals a misunderstanding of the reality of a manipulated public debate environment present across all types of media, from mainstream news to social media.
It also wrongly treats voters like rational deliberative computers by assuming that the more information that goes in, the more they accept that information. This is far from the reality of how mediated communication affects the public.
The reason the influence of media on individuals and collectives is, in reality, so difficult to measure and should never be bluntly described as having total effect or no effect, is that people are not rational when they consume media, and every individual processes information in their own unique and unconscious ways.
One person can watch a manipulated piece of communication and accept it wholeheartedly, others can accept part of it and others reject it outright.
Manipulation unknown
No one piece of information determines how people vote and not every piece of information people consume does either. That’s the point of a manipulated media environment. People who are being manipulated do not know they are being manipulated.
Importantly, when you ask individuals how their media consumption impacted on them, they of course do not know. The decisions people make based on the information they have ephemerally consumed — whether from the media, conversations, or a wide range of other information sources, are incredibly complex and irrational.
Surely the re-election of Donald Trump for a second time, despite all the rational arguments against him, is proof that the manipulated media environment is an incredibly powerful weapon — a weapon the Right, globally, is clearly proficient at wielding.
It is time those on the Left caught up and at least understood the reality they are working in.
Dr Victoria Fielding is an Independent Australia columnist. This article was first published by the Independent Australia and is republished with the author’s permission.
The American Bar Association (ABA), which accredits nearly 200 law schools nationwide, has temporarily halted enforcement of its diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) requirements while reviewing a proposal to update its rules. The paused ABA regulations required law schools to demonstrate their commitment to diversity in recruitment, admissions, and programming, with failure to do so…
I have seen diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) move from the fringes of corporate consciousness to the mainstream, and worryingly, now risks being sidelined as just another ‘trend’. With major tech giants in the US rolling back their DEI programs, there is a palpable sense of ‘DEI fatigue’ in the air. This fatigue often arises…
Amazon has quietly removed commitments to protecting the rights of Black and LGBTQ people from its publicly listed corporate policies. This change comes as part of broader corporate rollbacks of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs, seemingly aligning with the GOP’s far right agenda and signaling a disregard for the safety of marginalized communities ahead of Donald Trump’s inauguration…
McDonald’s has become the latest company to scale back its diversity goals, joining a growing list of corporations, including Walmart, John Deere, and Harley-Davidson, that reduced their diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives last year. In 2021, facing legal challenges related to sexual harassment and racial discrimination, McDonald’s launched new diversity initiatives to address…
Gender biases, stereotypes and inequities are limiting women’s participation in the Australian cybersecurity sector, according to new research that recommends changes to the current “24/7 culture”. A report by RMIT cyber and social researchers released on Wednesday found the barriers are making it harder to address gender equity in an Australian sector where less than…
In my inbox, there’s an email with a purple flier attached. Distributed by the Harvard Library, it depicts a white skull in a decorative hat, announcing a “Día de los Muertos” celebration. The event’s webpage boasts “performances by students and staff” and “remarks” from faculty. It was held yesterday in the Widener Library’s West Stacks Reading Room. I had hoped to attend.
Currently there’s an ambitious exhibition on at the Pride Centre in Melbourne called TransTrans. The show delves into the history of gender-diverse communities and scientists in Berlin, America and Australia and explores the transnational networks between trans communities between the 1900s–1970s. BroadAgenda editor Ginger Gorman had a chat with curators Professor Birgit Lang and Associate Professor Katie Sutton.
Let’s go back to the start. Where did the idea for this exhibition come from?
So this exhibition first showed in earlier versions in Canada and Germany, and the original idea was to tell a history of trans networks in the 20th century, especially across the Atlantic between Germany and the US, but for the Victorian Pride Centre we redeveloped it to a much more transnational story that brought in a lot more Australian voices, in a way that went against the grain of medicalized histories.
Doctors involved in early trans medicine like Magnus Hirschfeld in 1920s Berlin, Harry Benjamin in 1950s/60s San Franciso and Herbert Bower in 1950s and 1960s Melbourne are part of this story.
But what the exhibition really foregrounds are the trans networks and activists who drove new forms of gender-diverse community-making across these decades, and how they worked with and sometimes pushed back against medicalized ways of understanding nonconforming gender identities.
If you were explaining the idea behind the show to a stranger – and what story it’s telling – what would you say?
The exhibition tells a history of expanding trans networks, communities, medical developments and activism across the early to mid-20th century, finishing before the era of Stonewall and the new wave of global LGBTQ liberation politics that the 1970s brought. It starts with the early days of trans medicine and politics in the 1900s-1910s, when new labels that were the precursor to contemporary trans and gender-diverse identity were being coined and debated and hormone research was just starting to take off, with a particular focus on the boom in queer and trans community, politics and sexual science in 1920s Berlin and Germany, centred on places like sexologist Magnus Hirschfeld’s Institute for Sexual Science in interwar Berlin (there’s a great picture of a costume party at the Institute at the start of the exhibition).
It then takes visitors to the post-World War II United States, when trans politics and medicine saw a new era of flourishing and increasing media attention around famous figures like Christine Jorgensen – even though this also a very difficult period for many people to be gender-nonconforming – and to Australia and other parts of the world, with a “network wall” tracing some of the connections between activists, doctors, and organizations across these different times and spaces.
Why does the show have such an international scope? How and where did you research TransTrans?
For this show we worked closely with materials brought together by the original curators: Annette Timm, Michael Thomas Taylor, Rainer Herrn and Alex Bakker, who had organized the German and Canadian shows and focused on transatlantic connections. In building on these materials, we drew on our own research on early 20th-century Germany, and we also worked closely with the Australian Queer Archives, particularly archivist Nick Henderson, and with an Advisory Board that included Michelle McNamara and Son Vivienne from Transgender Victoria, Greer McGearey, a longstanding member of one of the oldest local trans organizations, Seahorse Victoria, and Noah Riseman, author of Transgender Australia.
Of course, while we changed the exhibition title to become “transnational” histories, it still focuses on a relatively small number of countries and networks, which was necessary to tell a coherent story, which focuses on overturning medical histories and telling these from a trans perspectives. There are so many stories of trans and gender-diverse lives that TransTrans does not touch on, particularly intersectional histories of People of Colour, First Nations, disabled and working-class class trans people. We were very conscious of this, and thematize these omissions in the section “What we see and what we don’t,” which encourages visitors to join us in critical reflection on the limits of our archives and sources.
Curators Birgit Lang (left) and Katie Sutton (right) at the TransTrans exhibition. Picture: Supplied
The show tracks the evolution of trans affirming health care today. Tell us more about that.
The exhibition foregrounds different stories. Maybe most importantly, how crucial early community support was for trans people to obtain a sense of self and belonging.
This community formation sometimes included doctors such as Hirschfeld and Benjamin who reached out to communities to better understand gender diversity, often through quite immersive, anthropological ways of creating knowledge.
We know of a Weimar-era Berlin song by singer and comedian Otto Reutter, titled “Here comes Hirschfeld” (“Der Hirschfeld kommt!” in German) which teased Hirschfeld about being overtly happy to interpret any quirkiness in terms of gender diversity. It is a good example of how this early community was well aware of the role the gay activist doctor played in advocating for LGBTQ people while they could also take the mickey out of these medical approaches at the same time.
The exhibition also shows how the road for gender affirming surgery was particularly hard. Trans people often had to travel abroad to obtain rather experimental and new surgeries (which was obviously not possible for everyone for financial and other reasons).
Some, in desperation, took to drastic measures of self-harm to push for surgery. This is quite confronting to read about.
Medical doctors also faced push back from the ranks of their own profession, as for example in the case of Dutch sexologist and psychiatrist, Coen van Emde Boas, who was prevented by an outraged hospital director from undertaking further gender affirming surgeries.
The exhibition recognises some key figures. Who is your favourite or the person who you find most interesting?
A person whose story we keep finding ourselves being drawn back to is Gerd Katter, whose “transvestite pass” from 1928 appears in the show. Katter was an 18-year-old apprentice carpenter working in Berlin, Germany at the time, and had to go to the city police to get this document, after first going to sexologist Magnus Hirschfeld’s Institute for Sexual Science to get medical certification of his trans status – that he was “known to be wearing men’s clothing.” This document was one that Katter was to carry around on his person and allowed him to go about his daily life in Berlin without worrying about getting arrested for causing a “public mischief.”
We’re really interested in how Katter’s photograph, as he gazes boldly past the camera in his short back and sides haircut and smart suit, can give us some insight into the assertive way he bore his gender nonconformity at a time of rapid social change, and how he entered into these exchanges with doctors and police In order to go about his daily life – a tale of forced negotiations and constraint but also of tolerance and a degree of freedom for gender-diverse people in 1920s society that was a strong contrast to what would happen once the Nazis took power in 1933.
Sometimes you see ill-informed folks questioning whether being trans is a “new” thing. However we know that trans and gender queer folks have been documented in history for hundreds of years. How does your show complement, or add to the historical evidence we already have on this issue?
Our show brings out of the archives sources that have rarely been shown and are difficult to access, like some of the early LGBTQ publications that were starting to appear in 1920s Berlin and Germany featuring scene figures like transmasculine scene leader Lotte/Lothar Hahm, known for organizing both lesbian and trans club nights and fighting against censorship of the queer media. For example, the first documented trans magazine from Germany, Das 3. Geschlecht (The 3rd Sex), which ran from 1930-1932, isn’t available in any public library worldwide. It also shines a light on materials from the 1950s and 1960s where so much of trans life needed to play out in private, domestic spaces.
The living room installation in the exhibition is inspired by Louise Lawrence’s living room in San Francisco, which was a hub of transfeminine community in the 1950s, helping connect transpeople across the Bay Area and the US. Lawrence also worked as a research associate of Harry Benjamin’s, she is a great example of how medical and activist and social networks around gender diversity were intersecting during these decades, often in quite productive ways.
We also worked closely with the Australian Queer Archives to bring in materials about Australian gender-diverse trailblazers, like First Nations activist Phyllis McGuinness who was involved in a key court case in 1982, sociologist and sex worker advocate Roberta Perkins, or the early newsletters of Seahorse Victoria, one of the first local trans organization founded in 1975.
What’s the most surprising or exciting thing you discovered while putting the show together?
Katie: One of the joys of putting this show together for me was learning more about Australian and Aotearoan trans histories. I love the film clip we show in the living room installation of an interview with cheeky New Zealand-born trans man Peter Alexander from 1937. The journalist talks to Alexander after he has returned from London for gender-affirming surgery about his dreams for the future, and his flirtatious humour really shines through – he talks about how he no longer wears lipstick and powder as that would be “ridiculous” what with needing to shave every day but adds that “I don’t blame the modern girl for using it.”
He ends by reflecting that, while he has suffered from the media harassment of having his story so widely known, he has the advantage of knowing “both sides to every ordinary little story” – a line that connects to a theme of many much more contemporary transmasculine memoirs.
Birgit: The exhibition opening was a blast. We had such wonderful speakers, from Victorian Minister for Equality Harriet Shing, and Human Rights Commissioner Ro Allen, to Gaby Cohen, the great-niece of Magnus Hirschfeld, as well as the trans community organisations we worked closely: Son Vivienne, President of TGV (Transgender Victoria) and Greer McGearey, President of Seahorse Victoria, the oldest trans organisation in Australia. For me, the opening brought together the many worlds I am moving in in a poignant and moving way.
A celebrity decorator with blue hair. A single mother who advised JFK in the Oval Office. A Christian nudist with a passion for almond milk. A century ago, ten Australian women did something remarkable. Throwing convention to the wind, they headed across the Pacific to make their fortune.Historian Dr Yves Rees tells their story in a new book called: Travelling to Tomorrow – The modern women who sparked Australia’s romance with America.
In 2008, back when millennials were still young and skinny jeans were fashionable, I was procrastinating in the Melbourne Uni library when I stumbled upon an article that changed my life. On the pages of an old magazine, I discovered the story of modernist artist Mary Cecil Allen. An enfant terrible of the Melbourne art world, in 1927 Mary decamped for the brighter lights of New York, and later introduced abstract expressionism to Australia. Sounds like a good research project, I thought. I was twenty and had just stepped onto a trajectory that would shape the next sixteen years.
Once immersed in Mary’s life and times, I started wondering if there was a bigger story here.
New York was a daring choice for an Australian in 1927—let alone a young and unaccompanied Australian woman. Had any other women done such an audacious thing? Turns out, they had. Hundreds and hundreds of them.
Writers and musicians and economists and actors and librarians and more. Over four years, I did a PhD on the Australian women who, in the early 1900s, set sail to seek their fortune in the United States.
Back then, I still thought I was a woman too. Why wouldn’t I? I’d been born with a vagina, and so everyone concluded: girl. I was a people pleaser, a perfectionist, and I was determined to ace this gender assignment. In 2012, when I started my PhD, I had long hair and short skirts and twenty-four years of female socialisation that kept me making nice.
As a novice women’s historian, I approached my subjects from a position of identification. Like them, I was a white Australian with the privilege and appetite to orient my life around travel and education and career. They felt, in many ways, like a version of me born a century earlier. They were my forebears, direct ancestors in a lineage of feminine resistance to being put in small boxes, women who could model how to navigate womanhood in a world that still positioned men as the default human subject. Through them, I might finally learn how to be.
Over my long years of research, I ran towards these forebears like an orphaned puppy looking for a mother, a hot mess of confusion and gaping need. How do I do this strange thing called womanhood? If I study you hard enough, if I join all the dots of your big and rebellious lives, will I finally crack the code? Teach me, show me the way. Solve my gender trouble, oh ye fellow white ladies who went before.
You can probably guess how this story ends. Spoiler alert: when womanhood feels like a puzzle with a missing rulebook, or a role you never signed up to play, or a scratchy jumper a few sizes too small, you might not actually be a woman at all.
It took me until 2018 to figure this out. By that point, I was thirty and revising my PhD into a book. I had a publishing contract, an academic job. The whole shebang. I was a real women’s historian. Only I wasn’t, and never had been, a woman myself.
Cover image: Travelling to Tomorrow
Once this realisation landed, I didn’t know how to think about women in the past. Were they still my forebears? Was their history still my history? Women’s history was my inheritance, or so I thought. Now, however, I’d been disinherited—or had disinherited myself. It was too painful to consider, so I didn’t.
Instead of revising the manuscript, I invented other work for myself. For years, I wrote economic history, migration history—anything to avoid my ‘women’s history’ book, that rotting corpse of my old certainties. I didn’t know how to write women’s history anymore because I no longer understood my relationship to that concept. My book remained in the form of Word drafts and manila folders, collecting dust.
Then one day, I remembered that Mary Cecil Allen played fast and loose with her own gender assignment. The painter preferred pants and came to be known by her masculine middle name. If a Cecil in pants was part of ‘women’s history’, was this field really so far removed from my own experience?
Would someone like Mary have understood themselves as nonbinary if they’d had this concept at their disposal? The possibilities of self-definition are always shaped by historical context. With different ideas and words floating around, the same person might think about themselves in an entirely new light.
I had already met countless older people who told me, somewhat wistfully, that they would call themselves nonbinary or trans if only they were 30 or 40 years younger. Had they’d encountered this idea in their youth, their lives might have looked very different. How many other people, dead and buried, might have thought the same way?
When I started looking for it, gender non-conformity was everywhere in my ‘women’s’ history. There was the nurse Cynthia Reed, who was known by the nickname Bob and had surgery to reduce her breasts. Then there was the author Dorothy Cottrell, who wrote an autobiographical novel with a male protagonist. In that same novel, another character is described as having a mix of male and female energies – a gender expression we’d now call nonbinary. ‘In some natures sex is definitely marked in every fibre of being’, Dorothy wrote. ‘But in rarer cases the blending of the elements masculine and feminine seem almost equal.’
This is not to say that these ‘women’ were not women at all. It is not to say that every person in history who challenged gender norms was nonbinary or trans. It is simply to say that we know less than we think. We can know the gender people were assigned at birth, we can glimpse whether they accepted or challenged that assignment, but beyond that is a whole realm of unknowability and mystery. We can only wonder and imagine.
I recently retired and finally said goodbye to the classroom.
As a teacher of ESOL (English to Speakers of Other Languages), I had the great privilege of working with around 75 different national and cultural groups.
Many of my students were refugees from overseas.
And whilst I was supporting my students with their English – including everything from beginners English to proficiency levels – I am sure that I learned more than I taught.
It’s a career that started out quite unexpectedly, but which has since shaped my life.
Wind back many years, Auntie Anita, my first husband’s aunt, was nagging me to visit her at work.
She was a secretary at a public Northern California adult educational centre about ten miles from where we lived. And she though it’d be just my thing.
I’d taught four years of high school by that time and given it up to raise a toddler. Now, I was thinking of part time work.
“But I don’t have the right credential to teach adults,” I protested.
It didn’t work. She persisted.
“I can get you a temporary credential” she continued. “And you’ll have a year to get the permanent one. You’re right for the job.”
And so, she did. My first class was at night in downtown Oakland, California.
A cosmopolitan city if ever there was one! I had students from at least a dozen countries that first night.
I was given very broad curriculum guidelines, and I did a lot of creative “ad lobbing” as it was my first class. It went great!
The evening flew by, and by the end of the class everyone was smiling. I knew this was the right setting for me.
So, I continued part time, had a second baby, and changed to a school closer to home.
I was still teaching at night with a class full of adults who worked during the day, and though tired, came to night school, optimistic and cheery about getting ahead in American society.
I knew then that I’d not go back to teaching high school. I proceeded to get my credential in adult education.
We also welcomed people from dozens of other countries, from Argentina to Mongolia.
I spent the next years in urban areas teaching English as a Second Language, cultural diversity awareness in the business sector, and basic reading skills to recently released prisoners.
I did so for a total of 40 years.
That, coupled with early years working in Alaska, gave me a complete window on the world.
Thanks to social media, I’m still in touch with dozens of former students, and have accepted invitations to visit them in half a dozen countries where they live.
I consider myself very lucky indeed!
Auntie Anita, one of the most persistent people I’ve met, harangued and dispensed lots of unwanted advice.
But, she was on target. I was right for the job.
Watching my students develop their English language skills was an absolute joy.
As was, learning from them.
Lessons learned: around the world in a classroom
I may have been the teacher, but I really do feel that this incredible experience taught me much more.
Here’s what I learnt!
1. Don’t stereotype people
Just because a person comes from a certain culture, it does not make them a spokesperson for the whole culture.
Each person is an individual with their own experiences, views and lived experiences.
Plus, what I also discovered is that cultural communities are very diverse.
Not all people from the same place are alike!
Whether from a minority of majority community, each culture is rich in language, history, culture and beliefs.
Get to know the individual on their terms – you’ll learn a lot more.
2. Be aware of inter-communal biases
It goes without saying that we should welcome migrants, refugees and asylum seekers to their new home.
And that includes: ensuring that we’re not fostering any space for racism, discrimination and exclusion.
Negative stereotypes, scapegoating of communities and cultural biases are everywhere (no thanks to the media!).
So, as in point #1, firstly: check yourself for conscious and unconscious biases.
Secondly: we need to also understand, recognise and mitigate for inter-community biases and conflicts.
No community is immune from negative biases. There are internal biases and racism with many cultures – not just our own.
So, whatever the history (e.g. religious, ethnic, “caste-based”, gender and socio-economic difference/conflict), be ready to recognise biases and work against them.
3. Seeking refuge is a right not a choice
People leave their home countries for a variety of reasons – and causes.
Displaced by the effects of climate change, poverty, conflict, persecution (relating to one’s faith, gender or sexuality) – there are countless reasons.
But one common denominator is this: life. To live in freedom, safety and security.
I can safely say that after my experiences, many people who change countries usually do so out ofnecessity – not because they want to do so.
Moving country is challenging in any context – some more complex and challenging than we could ever imagine.
4. Language is fundamental
Learning the language of anywhere you’re living is critical. It opens so many doors – economic and social, cultural.
From accessing medical services, going to work and making new (and varied) friends – language is crucial. It really is key to integration.
Of course, people come with vastly varied experiences and levels of education.
Some may by fluent in the national language, others a little rusty. Some may be starting from scratch.
Everyone has different histories and needs. And how fast people learn a new language often depends on whether they plan to stay in the new country.
Again: each context is different.
Language is key to integration – but it’s not the only element.
As a society, our strength lies in our respect for diversity and ensuring equity across the board.
5. Trauma travels with you
The resilience of people can be astounding – including the coping skills people bring with them.
Yet, whilst, you’re looking to the future – but the past can travel with you.
People who come to a new country may have suffered immense hardship/trauma – and therefore struggle with conditions such as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), depression and/or anxiety.
For refugees and asylum seekers in particular, the affects of trauma from conflict/violence (personal loss/grief and displacement) and persecution/torture (physical, sexual, phycological abuse), require empathy, care and potentially professional support.
When counselling someone, empathy and compassionate listening are critical.
I however personally always try to give suggestions for concrete actions – whilst of course ensuring that my advice is informed and useful.
Signposting may be the best advice you give.
6. Experiences vary greatly across generations
First generation immigrants face many challenges and hardships, including potential language gaps, financial struggles, cultural shocks and emotional trauma (see point #5).
These challenges are usually different to that of their second-generation children (and subsequent generations).
Children who are born in the new country or arrived at an early age generally find it easier to carve out their own sense of identity, embracing both their own native and the national culture of their parents’ adopted country.
Parents may be determined to re-create a sense of the home culture in a new place but can become frustrated when their children will not or cannot accept that.
As a result, their children may struggle to manage both the expectations of senior members of their family, alongside their own experiences and wants/beliefs as a second/third generation migrant/refugee.
Of course however, every family, individual and context is different.
7. We share more in common
Whilst the world is so wonderfully diverse, we’re all human. And we’re actually more alike than people may think.
Yes, we’ve got far more in common than any differences among us!
Of course, our experiences and our upbringing all shape us, our beliefs and our view on the world.
But, when it comes down to it, we all share the same foundations, feelings and wants of being human.
What’s more, each of us keeps on learning and changing throughout our lives.
Cross-cultural learning can bring not just a great sense of discovery, but also solidarity and teamwork to the classroom.
8. A smile goes a long way
You may speak different languages, you may have been born in different countries – or even continents – and you may be at different stages in your life…
But I can guarantee one thing: you all welcome a friendly face!
Working for an organisation about to shut down is a pretty good prompt to start thinking about what it means to work in your sector.
For over two decades, Equality Rights Alliance (ERA) has been a site for feminist collaboration and policy engagement. As one of the National Women’s Alliances we represent over 70 organisations working on gender equality in Federal policy from all around the country, each bringing their own specialist expertise. By the time this article is published, I will be both Acting Convenor and the only remaining staff member at ERA. ERA itself will close its doors at the end of the year.
When I joined ERA, I was looking for a way to turn my frustration at the slow pace of change into a meaningful career. I was tired of working in jobs that felt disconnected from the rest of the world, or that felt like distractions from the social issues I saw in my own life. Like many of us who work in advocacy, my professional passion was fuelled by my personal experiences.
After growing up in an environment where acts of violence were minimised and dismissed, I felt deeply drawn to spaces which ask you to name the problems. Entering a field that tells you to speak up after a lifetime of being told to keep quiet seemed incredibly empowering.
The end of ERA feels both significant and predictable, the cost of doing business in a sector categorised by instability and insecurity. Working in the gender equality space can be a source of real joy, but it can also be isolating. The most common response I get from other women in the sector when I ask how they’re doing at work is something along the lines of “oh you know, I’m hanging in there.”
Is it really any surprise that it has been difficult to fill front line positions? One colleague recently recounted to me the important life events she missed after months of endless work with little support, and another shared the frustration she felt at being routinely pushed to burnout as though it were normal. The passion that helps us excel also encourages us to pretend exhaustion is simply to be expected. As ERA wraps up, I have found myself reflecting on what a different version of the sector could look like. Surely we can all do better than just hanging in there.
ERA recently hosted a Gender Equality Symposium – three days of robust feminist discussion at the Wheeler Centre in Melbourne, featuring contributors working on gender equality from across government, the community sector, academia, the corporate world and more. In many ways this was our early going away party, attended either in person or online by over one hundred participants from around the country.
What stood out as the Symposium wrapped up was not just the quality of discussions, but just how many people thanked us for creating a sense of community. It was the common theme in almost every conversation I had after the event. One activist privately remarked that it felt like a place “for us to exhale.”
Multiple people said they had found new friends, others new collaborators, and one contributor said it had reminded her of what it felt like to be part of a feminist community again. Watching these connections form made me wonder – what happens to this sense of community when movements are professionalised?
We have made incredible gains during ERA’s tenure – decades of achievement from dedicated feminists working through political landscapes steeped in structural and cultural misogyny. The efforts of our many member organisations, their individual representatives, and the ongoing support of YWCA Australia is evidence of advocates’ willingness to keep showing up and doing the work.
But what happens to those sites of friendship, collaboration and strategizing as feminism slowly shifts from outsider political resistance to clusters of formal workplaces? Of course, in some ways we are still outsiders, and unpaid advocacy is very much alive – but how has this professionalisation of our work changed how we relate to each other? When does that interpersonal element of a movement get left behind?
So many of the connections we witnessed being made at the Symposium were between people who should have already met. How many examples are there of people working on the same problems who don’t even know the other was out there? After every panel I heard someone say that some aspect of a discussion had changed how they think about their work, their organisation, or their role in a broader feminist community.
There is a hunger for common meeting places, for shared ground where we can gather in person and grow together. Where we can challenge each other and begin to bridge gaps we might not have known existed.
Even with the knowledge that ERA was ending, as we closed out the event the first thing I thought was “how do we make this happen again?” So much of the most critical work ERA has performed has been relationship building – work that was never fully recognised by government contracts. How often do the informal meetings, coffees, and chats at events that lead to critical reflections end up in our annual reports? At ERA we have often talked about the need to “bring people in” to challenging conversations – to sit down and work through complex (or just new) issues with grace and time.
Our staff time is often split between our formally recognised advocacy (government submissions, senate evidence, meetings with parliamentary staff and so on) and quiet but critical conversations that we cannot quantify. Even when we value this interpersonal work as part of feminist practice, our principles do not translate into bureaucratic recognition and funding. I wonder if finding more opportunities to foster community might be one pathway to rebuilding both individual and sectoral resilience. How much easier would it be to find solutions to problems if we had more spaces to talk through them as a community? It doesn’t fix everything, but it at least gives us somewhere to talk about that.
When ERA closes its doors this November it will leave a gap, but it will also leave space for something new. I hope we can keep finding places to meet each other in our advocacy, to find time to experience the joys of community alongside all our hard work. I believe we will all be better off for it.
Please note: Picture at top is a stock image (Adobe)
Understanding and raising awareness about the obstacles and disparities faced by trans and gender-diverse employees in Australia can help managers access a larger talent pool by implementing inclusive initiatives.
Manager’s knowledge should include the awareness of discriminatory challenges of a decent proportion of employees (approx. 11% LGBTQIA+) to demonstrate sensible actions concerning the International Day Against LGBTQIA+ Discrimination (IDAHOBIT) or throughout Pride Month. Unlike rainbow washing, inclusive initiatives can result in an increasingly positive work culture and equitable customer engagement.
As a non-binary academic researcher, I have had the privilege of consulting with trans and gender-diverse individuals about their experiences in Australian workplaces. The stories I have heard paint a sobering picture of systemic discrimination, exclusion, and denial of fundamental human rights throughout the employee lifecycle.
Workplace cultures and processes – we can do better
From the very start during recruitment and selection processes, trans and gender-diverse applicants face significant hurdles. Starting with job application forms often force them to misgender themselves by requiring a binary gender selection. Followed by selection panels harbouring unconscious biases that can discriminate against trans and gender-diverse candidates. Additionally, there is the dilemma for trans and gender-diverse applicants of whether to risk outing themselves by providing documentation like prior certificates listing former names and incorrect gender markers.
Securing employment does not mean the challenges end. The onboarding experience alone can be traumatic, such as introducing new trans and gender-diverse hires to colleagues using incorrect names and pronouns. A lack of transparency around inclusive policies on matters like gender affirmation leave can leave trans and gender-diverse employees feeling unsupported and vulnerable.
The workplace itself is often rife with ignorance and hostility. Co-workers and managers lacking LGBTQIA+ education perpetuate an unwelcoming environment, while gaps in anti-discrimination policies fail to protect trans and gender-diverse employees from harassment and abuse, even from customers. Abuse by customers towards trans and gender-diverse employees is often not addressed.
Robin’s research shows that “…from the very start during recruitment and selection processes, trans and gender-diverse applicants face significant hurdles.” Picture: Adobe Stock
It takes a toll
Such chronic discrimination and minority stress take a heavy mental toll, undermining trans and gender-diverse employees’ ability to perform and develop professionally. Even when adequately performing, they are frequently overlooked for career advancement opportunities or promotions due to stigma and bias against their gender identity. Many feel forced to work “twice as hard” and conform to outdated gender norms, just to avoid being targeted.
Consequently, the impacts extend into areas like performance reviews, where trans and gender-diverse employees may be graded poorly not due to merit, but because of a manager’s prejudice. Or learning and development programs, which can be minefields without LGBTQIA+ knowledgeable trainers and safe travel policies for trans and gender-diverse staff overseas. Even participating in an “inclusive” event can become an exercise in tokenism rather than an authentic growth opportunity.
Faced with these relentless headwinds, it is no wonder many trans and gender-diverse employees opt to leave hostile work environments, knowingly sacrificing future job prospects because they can no longer get supportive employment references. Those who do pursue exit interviews often avoid them, fearing re-traumatisation from recounting their negative experiences.
The cumulative effects are staggering higher unemployment, job dissatisfaction, and economic disadvantages for Australia’s trans and gender-diverse community as they are systematically excluded from opportunities and robbed of dignity in the workplace.
In my view, protecting the rights of trans and gender-diverse employees is both a moral imperative and an economic necessity. Beyond the ethical obligation, organisational cultures that marginalise trans and gender-diverse talent severely undermine their diversity, innovation, and competitiveness. No workplace today can afford to ignore such a glaring inclusion failure.
How can we go forward?
Initiatives or organisational changes are outlined to offer organisations practical recommendations translatable to their daily business, such as utilising employee resource groups, reviewing best practice recommendations by the Diversity Council Australia, or establishing clarity about organisational values. Concluding by highlighting the organisational duty and responsibility for the employee’s psychological safety in the workplace.
The way forward requires a comprehensive reckoning by Australian employers. At every stage – recruitment, onboarding, development, retention – proactive measures must be implemented to combat discrimination, educate staff on allyship, enforce inclusive policies and practices, and ultimately create safe, empowering environments where trans and gender-diverse employees can thrive authentically. Only then can we realise workplaces that fully uphold human rights and unlock the immense value of diverse, liberated talent.
Five key takeaways for employers
Putting gender inclusive and/or gender-neutral language into practice in all organisational communication
Providing comprehensive LGBTQIA+ education and training for managers and team leaders
Establishing and enforcing a gender affirmation policy to support trans and gender-diverse employees
Championing the formation of an Employee Resource Group or staff-led Pride Network to foster inclusivity and support within the organisation
Creating diverse platforms and channels for employees to express their perspectives and have their voices heard within the company
Picture at top: The Progress pride flag/Shutterstock
The federal government’s only program for female startup founders will not continue after internal analysis determined more than $35 million in direct grants and mentoring for almost one thousand entrepreneurs had no “measurable impact” on the wider startup ecosystem. The decision puts an early end to the Boosting Female Founders Initiative that was scheduled to…
The appointment of prominent businesswoman Sam Mostyn as Australia’s 28th Governor-General was met with backlash from some quarters of the media who questioned her suitability for the role and seemed to imply Mostyn was only selected for the position because of her gender.
While such a reaction is unfortunately not surprising it asks an incredibly important question: who gets to represent Australia and why are there still such negative reactions to women being in prominent leadership roles?
Elise Stephenson is Deputy Director of the Australian National University Global Institute for Women’s Leadership and spent hundreds of hours interviewing prominent female political leaders and diplomats over the course of 30 years.
The image that a country portrays to the rest of the world often occurs through the various diplomats that come to foster relationships with other nations. However the people that make up these representative positions often aren’t accurate reflections of a country’s demographics.
When the US-based Australian embassy was asked to create a list of ‘true Australians’ that embodied values of respect, friendship and collaboration they issued a list made up of exclusively men who were predominantly older, white and heterosexual.
And this is certainly not an isolated incident with the realm of international diplomacy being guided by what Stephenson calls “the rules of masculinity.”
At an event hosted by the ANU last month, Stephenson spoke with former Foreign Affairs Minister and current Chancellor of the Australian National University about her research and the broader implications lack of gender diversity has on world affairs. (Watch the whole event in the video below.)
“Although we are all able to name several high-profile women in positions of power, they still remain a novelty in political spaces and come to face unique challenges compared to their male counterparts,” Stephenson said.
“There remains a lack of understanding of women’s pathways, their experiences, as well as some of the gender challenges that continue to exist and evolve.”
And while Stephenson notes that Australia’s international agencies fare better than many other countries – with 58% of all our diplomats being women – barriers to equality remain that go deeper than surface level numbers.
“Although we are now seeing places like DFAT reach parity or near parity when it comes to women’s representation, we know that across all of our international affairs’ institutions we can’t rest when we do get that representation,” she said.
Dr Elise Stephenson (left) sat down with Australia’s first female foreign minister, and Chancellor of the Australian National University, the Hon. Julie Bishop (centre) to discuss the lack of gender representation and diversity in international affairs. The event was facilitated by Professor Susan Harris-Rimmer (right). Picture: Supplied
One of the key findings of Stephenson’s research was that Australia is still significantly lacking in gender representation in the Defence and policing sphere which has ramifications for women due to the increasing securitisation of international affairs.
This only causes more issues for women’s representation as Australia’s diplomatic role in the world appears to be shrinking.
“What I found in essence was that women are only now gaining parity in diplomacy right at the point in time when Australian diplomacy has been at its lowest point…our international footprint is decreasing,” she said.
“This is particularly concerning because we often think of diplomacy as our first line of defence but when we see this underfunding and under-resourcing a lot of issues begin to emerge.”
“Women’s role in leadership is ultimately constrained by the status of the institution in which they occupy – women still face a glass cliff.”
Julie Bishop also heavily pressed on the reality that gender representation and equality greatly impact the diversity of opinions present in diplomatic engagements and political decisions, ultimately determining what Australia cares about.
“Normalising women in these positions is crucial,” Bishop said.
“I certainly observed the securitisation of our foreign policy and the rise of border force being built under male ministers and I can say that it goes against every fibre of my being to spend less money on diplomacy and more on defence.”
“As Australia’s first female foreign minister I remember walking through the halls of DFAT and seeing 37 men who all looked remarkably similar along the walls…from then on I saw it as my responsibility that if I was the first woman to take on a role I should do everything I can to make it easier for the next woman to follow me.”
Dr Elise Stephenson speaking at the event. Picture: Supplied
And the need for women in leadership roles is certainly crucial with gender representation in international affairs being correlated to everything from lower levels of interstate violence to higher levels of collaboration and consensus between core international partners.
Women even bring unique styles of leadership to crisis moments that in some instances outweigh the performances of male leaders.
In the aftermath of the COVID-19 pandemic there was much discussion about which countries performed better and the roles different state leaders played in reducing the spread of the virus.
One interesting pattern that emerged quite early on during the crisis was that female leaders were seen to have handled the health emergency remarkably well.
Countries led by women were found to have performed better than those led by men, especially in terms of death rates. Female-led nations locked down significantly earlier and more decisively than male-led countries .
Studies suggest that men are more likely to lead in a “task-oriented” way while women tend to lead in an “interpersonally-oriented” manner. As a result, women tend to adopt a more democratic style of leadership and even tend to have better communication skills than their male counterparts.
Women leaders also tend to place more emphasis on developing positive relationships with others and are less likely to avoid making decisions or exercising authority.
Referring back to the negative reactions to Sam Mostyn’s appointment as Governor General, Stephenson also spoke about the necessity to address the uptick in right-wing extremism and online misogyny in recent years.
“There are a lot of ways in which backlash occurs and it is a really classic way of delegitimising someone’s background and the fact that they could be in positions like this,” she said.
“We are well past the point of the myth of the meritocracy – it doesn’t exist.”
“Was she the best person? In this case absolutely. But we have to recognise the system of meritocracy was broken in the first place otherwise we would already have a far more diverse cohort represented in all forms of leadership.”
“And really, haven’t all of the men that have come before her only gotten the position because of their gender?”
Bishop added that she had seen the impacts the exclusion of women can have on a nation during her time as Australia’s first female foreign affairs minister.
“When women are part of the discussion on how we’re going to resolve a crisis…you simply get a better outcome,” she said.
“When women are excluded, there is a fundamental part missing.”
Picture at top: Julie Bishop speaking at the launch of ‘The Face of the Nation: Gendered Institutions in International Affairs’ by Elise Stephenson. Picture: Supplied
The federal government’s ambassador for gender equity in STEM is being wound up, with existing functions to be slotted into other programs. The Pathway to Diversity in STEM review, published in February, said the Women in STEM Ambassador should be replaced by a new advisory council with diverse representation across industries and social groups that…
The federal government’s ambassador for gender equity in STEM is being wound up, with existing functions to be slotted into other programs. The Pathway to Diversity in STEM review, published in February, said the Women in STEM Ambassador should be replaced by a new advisory council with diverse representation across industries and social groups that…
UC’s Professor Michelle Lincoln is profoundly aware of the unique challenges faced by women working in health and medical research.
“The mid-career stage is a particularly vulnerable point for women,” says Michelle. “They are often making decisions between pursuing a research career or a clinical career. They’ve also got lots of outside pressures.”
Michelle, Deputy Vice-Chancellor Academic at the University of Canberra, noticed a gap in career support for women in these fields. So in 2020, she reached out to social enterprise Franklin Women to establish a local chapter in the ACT.
Franklin Women is unique: the only professional community dedicated to supporting the careers of women in health and medical research. Established in Sydney in 2014, Franklin Women’s flagship initiative is its mentoring program. The six-month program combines informal mentoring with sessions led by experts in inclusive leadership.
Professor Michelle Lincoln. Picture: Liam Budge
“It was different from the mentoring I’d done before, which tended to be a bit open-ended. This was for a purpose,” says Michelle, who was a Franklin Women mentor in 2023. “I found the experience really positive and I think it underscored the benefits of taking a very intentional approach to mentoring.”
In the ACT, Franklin Women pairs cross-organisational mentors and mentees from UC, the Australian National University (ANU), UNSW Canberra, Canberra Health Services and several government health departments. “One of the joys for me is that I was mentoring someone for whom I had no agenda, which made the experience totally focused on that individual,” says Michelle.
Inclusive leadership is a key focal point. “Franklin Women wants to bring people from different cultural backgrounds, genders and sexualities into leadership,” says Michelle. “And doing that is easy to say, but sometimes hard to do. So having that open conversation is terrific.”
We sat down with four more UC women from the 2023 mentoring program to find out how they’ve benefited from the initiative – and the contribution it’s making to the Canberra community.
“Franklin Women really helped me out, because I’ve had quite an atypical transition into academic life,” says Hilary. The education-focused academic came to UC in 2020 after completing a PhD in chemistry and working in government and teaching in Adelaide.
Hilary’s mentor was Dr Theo Niyonsenga, Associate Professor of Biostatistics at UC, with whom she shared great rapport. “Franklin Women work amazing magic to match up people who either have similar backgrounds or similar values,” says Hilary.
For Hilary, the most beneficial aspects were the program’s structure and the resources participants had access to. “It really made you dedicate the time to thinking about your career and what you want out of life,” she says.
“Sometimes there’s a well-publicised version of what success is meant to look like in research. I realised in this program that success can look very different for everyone.”
“The mentoring programs I’ve been involved with in the past were more towards academic progression,” says Blooma, whose research interests include virtual reality, health informatics and educational technologies. “Franklin Women is more directed towards leadership. It’s also about understanding our strengths.”
Blooma completed her postgraduate studies in Singapore and worked at RMIT International University in Vietnam, before joining UC in 2016. At the end of 2023, Blooma took on the role of Capability Leader at the School of Information Technology and Systems – an achievement that she says Franklin Women helped her fulfil.
Blooma describes how her mentor, Professor Kristina Valter from the ANU, gave her guidance and motivation. “Pursuing a career along with having children was a challenge,” says Blooma. “My mentor is also a mother, so she shared how she took her career to the next stages. That encouraged me – telling me that I’m also ready.”
Mentor: Professor Girija Chetty, Professor in Computing and Information Technology and Head of School, Information Technology and Systems. Picture: Supplied
“The area I’m in is very male-dominated,” says Girija, who applies her research in computer science and machine learning to many diverse fields, including energy, public health and sports analytics.
“20 years back, you were basically on your own if you felt that your contributions were not valued. Now things have changed. There are support systems available, like Franklin Women, to handle the difficult situations.”
While Girija had several mentors throughout her career, she had never taken part in a formal mentoring program in the physical sciences or engineering fields.
“The mentoring workshops were very useful for me,” says Girija. “Working with my mentee, a very ambitious and intelligent medical science researcher, gave me a lot of insight into supporting high-performing individuals like her.”
Girija believes that a mentor’s support can provide a huge boost in confidence and self-esteem. “Many women leave their fields because they feel they can’t juggle the challenges of maintaining high performing careers, and maybe also looking after family. Mentoring programs help ensure they don’t give up.”
Girija was so impressed by Franklin Women’s impact that after her program finished, she joined the ACT Peer Advisory Group, which helps shapes Franklin Women initiatives and events.
“Franklin Women is a fantastic program and I think every organisation should be part of it. This kind of program could help every organisation where there is an imbalance in gender representation,” says Girija.
Mentor: Professor Janine Deakin, Interim Deputy Vice-Chancellor, Research and Enterprise, and Executive Dean, Faculty of Science and Technology. Picture: Liam Budge
Janine credits Michelle for her decision to become a Franklin Women mentor.
“She was really keen to bring Franklin Women to UC. Anything I can do to help women to succeed, I’m going to say yes to,” she says.
For Janine, the positive impacts of Franklin Women are clearly evident. “I’ve really seen the change and growth in women who’ve come through the program. They’ll pass on what they’ve learned to those around them, and that feeds into the UC environment as a whole,” she says.
The 2023 Franklin Women mentors and mentees concluded their program with a graduation-style finale, hosted at UC.
UC Franklin Women in 2024
The 2024 cohort of Franklin Women has recently been announced, with the following UC women selected:
Mentors: Professor Lynne Keevers, Dr Alison Shield and Professor Virginia Stulz (Health), Dr Kumudu Munasinghe and Dr Regan Ashby (Science and Technology)
Mentees: Dr Mary Bushell, Dr Celeste Coltman and Dr Natasha Jojo (Health), Dr Cindy Karouta and Dr Margarita Medina (Science and Technology).
This article first appeared on UC’s “UnCover.” Read the original here.
In recent years, the right has targeted diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) efforts, and, as we barrel toward a presidential election, the scapegoating of DEI is worsening. According to the University of Southern California’s Race and Equity Center, 18 states have banned spending public funds on DEI-related activities in K-12 schools, and eight have done the same for colleges and universities.
It doesn’t take much searching to spot the fallout from the newest Florida law seeking to erase DEI, or diversity, equity and inclusion, from public campuses. Several weeks ago, for example, staff offices at Florida Atlantic University’s Center for Inclusion, Diversity Education and Advocacy in Boca Raton were vacant, with name plates blank and abandoned desks, plus LGBTQ+ flags…
Medical students across the U.S. are sounding the alarm over a new bill introduced in Congress that would ban diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) efforts in medical schools, citing the bill’s potential harrowing consequences for students and patients alike. Republican Rep. Greg Murphy of North Carolina proposed the bill on March 19, which seeks to cut federal funding to medical schools with DEI…
The University of Texas at Austin (UT-Austin) announced on Tuesday that it was firing dozens of people who used to work in diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs at the university. At least 60 total staff members were laid off — 40 of whom worked in the Division of Campus and Community Engagement, which is closing. In a joint letter, Texas NAACP and the Texas Conference of American…
Large businesses that miss gender equality targets will soon be barred from winning government work, as the Albanese government seeks to improve the equity of its suppliers and emerging industries in a new national gender equality strategy. The ‘Working for Women’ strategy was released by Minister for Women and for Finance Katy Gallagher at the…
