When women are routinely paid less for doing the same work, their labour is not being taken seriously. When they retire with half the superannuation of men, their lifetime contribution is not being taken seriously. When female-dominated occupations are overwhelmingly lower paid than male-dominated ones, their work is not being taken seriously.

When numerous women come forward over decades and tell very similar stories about the sexual abuse they suffered at the hands of Bill Cosby and no one pays attention until a male comedian speaks about it, women's safety is not being taken seriously.

When it is considered reasonable that a roomful of men can sit around and make decisions about women's bodies, their lives and liberty are not being taken seriously. When women who have outperformed their male counterparts in education (as they have done for more than a century) are hired on a lower salary, we are not taking their intelligence seriously.

But perhaps the most depressing indication that women's lives are not taken as seriously as men's is that, at time of writing, 36 Australian women have been murdered, mostly at the hands of their intimate partner, so far this year and, despite pious words, little has been done. Every time a woman talks about the damage men have done to her and is howled down for insulting "an entire gender", we are refusing to take her pain seriously. When we tell women it is their responsibility to "keep themselves safe", we're not taking their fear seriously. When, out of 3500 rapes reported to Victorian police in 2009-10, only 3% result in a conviction, we are not taking women's testimony seriously.

It is this as yet unmet desire to have our voices, experiences, achievements, suffering, rights, security, safety and work taken seriously that fuels the #MeToo movement. Through sheer weight of numbers, women are forcing the world to notice the hostility, humiliation and fear they live with. It is this new seriousness with which women are taking themselves that has led to the international praise for Hannah Gadsby's radically serious comedy Nanette. Gadsby's timing – as befits a comedian – is exquisite.