How are women ever to smash the glass ceiling when the male gaze simply glazes over us?

Australia's own Charles Wooley made international news this week with a deeply awkward 60 Minutes profile on Jacinda Ardern which analysed the NZ Prime Minister's youth, aesthetic and, of all things, her sex life.

Plundering no such treasures as Ms Ardern's achievements to date or aspirations for the country she helms, Wooley instead called her "attractive", referred to himself as "smitten", and with a winky nudge, probed the mother-to-be's date of conception.

Media across the globe slammed Wooley's interview as "creepy" and "sexist", though Ms Ardern herself said she wasn't fazed by it.

But it wasn't simply awkward or misguided.

It was a chilling reminder to women that no matter how high up the career ladder we climb, our most compelling roles are still, to a certain, very powerful, slice of the demographic, that of sex object, mother, and people pleaser.

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Ardern is all women at work

That demographic of course is older men in positions of power, and in 2018 their stranglehold on culture is still so tight that even a Prime Minister can't be assessed with the same cold professional clarity we would extend to a man in her position.

Of course, Wooley's line of questioning was merely a microcosm of the challenge faced by young women at work.

Like so many older men in media, Wooley is a mouthpiece for western culture at large. His message serves as a reminder to women everywhere: though you make great strides in your field, stray never far from the hearth.

Ms Ardern isn't the first to suffer this gendered professional minimisation, of course, and she won't be the last.

During her time as Australia's PM, Julia Gillard came under fire for a litany of qualities unrelated to her political activities.

Julia Gillard's choice of partner and unwed status attracted as much attention as her policies. ( AAP: Alan Porritt )

Notably: her outfits (too pear-shaped); haircut (too severe); unmarried status (unthinkable); tone of voice (too nasal); and even her hairstylist partner's sexuality (too trite to spell out).

Nor is the political sphere the only place this condescension plays out. Who could forget Rebecca Solnit's famous experience of having a man debate her expertise on a topic, about which she had, unbeknownst to him, authored the very book he was quoting?

Women have been active, ambitious players in the workplace for a long time now. So why won't the old guard show us some professional respect?

One study suggests that older men, who tend to have more "traditional marriages" (defined as a wife who is unemployed), "go to work with attitudes, beliefs, and behaviours that disfavour women in the workplace and are more likely to make decisions that prevent the advancement of qualified women."

Slut-shamed, mistaken for the tea lady

For many women, being underestimated in the workplace and fielding unwanted commentary on their private lives is a familiar scene.

Eliza, a PhD coach, told me about a visit she made to Washington DC to deliver a lecture to a group of senior scholars and military officers.

"When I arrived, one of the senior military men told me I was running late to take the tea and coffee order. When I pointed out that I was the one there to deliver the lecture, he grunted that it was an easy mistake to make because I looked like such a young woman."

Kate, not her real name, who works in publishing, had a far more chilling tale:

"Shortly after returning from maternity leave, I had to announce my second pregnancy to my colleagues and an older male colleague kindly 'explained' to me that I needed to learn to close my legs."

Shocking? Yes. Punished? No. And if there's no reprimand, there's no incentive to change.

Kate had immediately thought to refer the comment to HR, but chose not to:

"I work in a small industry, I've not been there for a super long time, and the thought of being labelled problematic or outspoken outweighed my urge to make a big deal over it."

Female fury is social suicide

Jacinda Ardern, too, was visibly uncomfortable under Wooley's fire and could do little but politely deflect in the face of probing impertinence. Peevishness in a woman is social suicide. Female fury is unbecoming, no matter how justified.

It's a convenient double-standard that boxes public women in on all sides: if you don't protest, how are men to know they should treat you with respect?

If you do pipe up, you're another angry woman.

Emma Gonzalez is calling for more gun control after a former student carried out a massacre at her school. ( Reuters: Jonathan Drake )

In recent months, a high school girl has become the face of a national crusade for gun control. The awe-inspiring #metoo kraken has risen from the Mariana Trench of Hollywood sexism to do battle with every last Weinstein. And our own former Deputy Leader of the Greens moved both a senate motion and a baby to her breast all at once.

In this world, watching an old media man probe a formidable woman's personal life in favour of her profession made one thing creepily clear: it's time for a changing of the guard.

Sommer Tothill is a writer, TV maker and YouTuber.