Yesterday the Senate was asked to vote on whether the best thing to do to prevent the assault, rape and murder of women is to arm them.

I voted no, because I don’t believe that putting more weapons in the hands of the public will make women safer in their homes or on the streets at night. I also don’t think that women should continue to be made to have to take responsibility for the violent crimes and behaviour that some men perpetuate. Truth is, every woman I know has felt unsafe or intimidated at some point, whether it was at a bar, walking home at night, her work place or tragically even in her own home. The safety and security of women shouldn’t require half the country armed, in fear of the threat of its other half.

The Senate voted overwhelmingly with me. Nearly all of us lined up on one side of the chamber. On the other side of the chamber sat Senator David Leyonhjelm, and he could see from how few his company was on the other side of this vote that he was destined to lose this one.

“You’ll have to stop shagging men now, Sarah!” he yelled at me as the vote went down, as if now I’m at risk without pepper spray or a taser.

I heard the words a clear as a bell. They jolted me, which is of course what they were designed to do. But I’ve heard these slurs before. This weekend marks 10 years that I have been in the federal parliament, and over this time the level of nastiness and personal attacks on the floor of the Senate chamber has gotten worse, not better.

After the vote was complete, I walked over to the Senator and asked if I’d heard him correctly. He confirmed it. Shocked by his brazen attitude, I told him: “You’re a creep.” “Fuck off,” he replied.

I walked away. I was shaken, not because of what he said necessarily, but because I knew I had just for the first time, in my own workplace, decided to stand up for myself, and draw a line in the sand. For years I have winced and tried not to flinch at innuendos about my dress, my face (being told by older men that I don’t smile at them enough) and my apparent sex life. What started as mutterings while I would be on my feet speaking, or during a debate, slowly over the years has become slurs that are now shouted across the chamber floor.

Our parliament should be better. We should set the standard

It’s not new to anyone watching Australian politics over the past decade to recognise that the tone of our parliament and debate has sunk. Tune into question time any day and you can expect to see our leaders exchanging thinly-veiled insults dressed up as arguments. Now, I’m the first to admit that I’ve had my share of argy-bargy over the years, and I’ve given as good as I get. Politics is a contest and it’s contested fiercely. I do it too.

Most people understand there’s a very distinct difference between going after a person for their political beliefs and going after a person for their gender. As a person on the receiving end of these particular types of sexist taunts the difference is recognisable straight away. And yet, somehow in this hyper-partisan world where the strength of political argument seems to have slipped into a measurement of how loud or aggressive you make your point, sexist and gendered attacks have been just accepted as par for the course. Julia Gillard’s experience as prime minister exposed that, as did the bullying of Gillian Triggs during her appearances at Senate estimates.

Using innuendos about a woman’s body or sexuality as means to intimidate and put us down is not new, but it works. It works because it is both specific and yet hidden. To complain would be to play the “gender card”, so most women just shut up and take it, knowing that to acknowledge it would give the satisfaction to the abusers that they landed a blow. It’s a weapon of intimidation that sadly, despite how far we’ve come in so many areas, some people still use. Especially when they can’t be bothered debating the actual issue of substance. It’s lazy, it’s cheap, but it works.

Yesterday when I confronted Senator Leyonhjelm, and even after being asked by my party leader and the Senate president, he refused to apologise. I knew I had no other choice than to put what had occurred on the record. Otherwise he would have forever known that I didn’t call him out, and that I hadn’t stood up for myself.

The #MeToo movement has given women across the world the encouragement to speak out. And like so many others that have come before me, yesterday I decided that I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of pretending the slurs and taunts aren’t there, enough of pretending that they don’t throw me off my game while I’m speaking. I once had a male Senator – who had been drinking – come sit next to me while I was on my feet during a late night Senate debate. He sang nursery rhymes in my ear while I was trying to speak.

In any other workplace, anywhere in the country, telling a woman to “stop shagging men” would land you in hot water. Here in parliament, it lands you an exclusive with Sky News, where you’re given the opportunity to double down.

We reward bad behaviour with attention. Men who use sexism to belittle or intimidate women, as I experienced by Senator Leyonhjelm, face no backlash. This is politics in Australia in 2018. Now, simply because you don’t like a person’s politics, anything goes.

Our parliament should be better. We should set the standard. Yesterday I called out what happened, because both men who behave badly and our parliament should be held to account.

• Sarah Hanson-Young is Australian Greens senator for South Australia