It’s been a big week for women calling out bad behaviour—one in academia, the other in parliament. Different settings, different faces, same old power plays.
First, the Nixon Review. If you missed it, this scathing report into gender and culture by former Victorian Police Commissioner Professor Christine Nixon, has lifted the lid on the toxic culture at the Australian National University’s College of Health and Medicine. The report details entrenched patterns of racism, sexism, discrimination and exploitation of both students and staff at the ANU’s College of Health and Medicine – one of our top medical schools.
These findings are particularly troubling considering how ANU, like many universities and organisations across the country, has invested significant time and resources into projecting a value of diversity and inclusion. We can see how the image of progress belies the entrenched and stubborn nature of discrimination and injustice through the stories of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander academics and students coming through in the report. Indigenous staff and students descried being called on by the university to provide ‘good-news media content’ but abandoned or event criticised when they try to raise concerns about the way the community is treated by the institution.
Then came the revelation from Senator Fatima Payman. At a parliamentary event, she says an older male colleague suggested getting some wine into her to see if she’d dance on the table. It’s the kind of comment that makes your skin crawl, not just because it’s gross—but because it’s familiar. Payman, who doesn’t drink due to her religion, responded with quiet steel: “I’m drawing a line, mate.” She also reported it to the Parliamentary Worker Support Service.
Two very different institutions, yet the same insidious thread runs through both: the normalisation of sexist behaviour, especially when it’s dressed up as tradition, banter, or “just the way things are.” These environments—elite universities and Parliament House—aren’t just passive backdrops. They actively shape what gets excused, who gets protected, and whose voice gets dismissed.
Alcohol. We love a good workplace drink in Australia, me included. Friday night knock-offs, the post-conference pub crawl—booze is often the social glue. In my day job I’ve lost count of how many people have told me they feel left out, even judged, for not drinking at work events. They’re viewed as killjoys, outsiders, “not part of the team.” And for women of colour, Muslim women, or anyone whose relationship to alcohol is shaped by culture, health, or past trauma, that judgment feels even sharper.
This obsession with alcohol as a shortcut to camaraderie often becomes a smokescreen for poor behaviour. It creates blurry boundaries—what starts as a “joke” or “just a drink” can quickly slide into something more insidious. And when someone calls it out? They’re the problem. They’re “too sensitive,” “overreacting,” or “can’t take a joke.”
Senator Payman didn’t overreact. She stood her ground. But she shouldn’t have had to explain that drinking isn’t a prerequisite for being respected. Or that “just having a laugh” isn’t an excuse for making someone feel small, exoticised, or unsafe.
This is where intersectionality matters. We can’t talk about sexism in a vacuum but in Australia racial literacy is so low that path of least resistance is walked. A white woman’s experience in these institutions isn’t necessarily the same as a Brown woman’s, or a First Nations woman’s, or a Muslim woman’s. Senator Payman’s story isn’t just about gender—it’s about religion, race, power, and the exhausting work of being “the first.” Likewise, the Nixon Review didn’t just reveal a culture of sexism, but one where racial bias and tokenism were systemic.
When institutions fail to recognise these layered experiences, they fail the people within them. And yet, too often the response is a glossy diversity strategy, a training session, a new committee. The real test isn’t what happens in the boardroom; it’s what happens in the corridor, at the staff drinks, in the late-night meeting where someone makes a comment that no one challenges.
I want to live in a country where universities and parliaments are not just prestigious, but principled. Where respect doesn’t depend on how well you play along with outdated norms. Where not drinking isn’t a social death sentence. Where calling out bad behaviour is seen as leadership, not disruption.
Become a Women’s Agenda Foundation member and support our work! We are 100% independent and women-owned. Every day, we cover the news from a women’s perspective, advocating for women’s safety, economic security, health and opportunities. Foundation memberships are currently just $5 a month.
Bonus: you’ll receive our weekly editor’s wrap of the key stories to know every Saturday.