Former New Zealand PM Helen Clark.

As a woman, there's a certain shame to admitting you don't understand the term "misogyny". Like saying you don't really "get" feminists, or that you've never watched Buffy – it easily turns the ladies offside. Growing up, I thought misogyny must be a thing of hyperbole. I understood the theory, I had just never seen or experienced it. I had never faced boundaries based on my gender and all through my childhood my father told me I was capable of achieving anything. The connotations of hatred seemed illogical. How could this word exist in a world of such competent women?

But, there was one other reason why I never really got it. I grew up in New Zealand. As a Kiwi in Australia, you are not often called upon for your insights into politics or social progression. The interest you hold is more often centred upon your hilarious pronunciation of "fish and chips". Our nations are regarded as siblings in so many ways; New Zealand the young rascal banished to a mystical outpost of the world. But, as the issue of misogyny rose to the fore, and I saw Australia's first female prime minister being bullied out of the Lodge, I realised the importance of my homeland. I had never understood misogyny because I grew up in a country led by women.

I started school in 1996, and the following year our first female prime minister, Jenny Shipley, took office. I was five years old and when I turned on the TV I saw a woman addressing our nation. It was never a novelty; it had never been anything but the norm. My dad told me I could do anything, I looked to the screen, and I believed him.

Former New Zealand Prime Minister Dame Jenny Shipley.

It was a trend that lasted. Shipley was challenged and beaten in 1999 by Helen Clark, leader of the New Zealand Labour Party, and Clark held the office right up until 2008. For nearly all my school years my home country was led by women. Of course they suffered the usual slings and arrows of political life, but none of it came close to the level of name-calling and vitriol that Gillard experienced. They were respected.


My little sister is 10. She was born in New Zealand, though would barely remember it. My mum still slips Maori words into conversation for the sake of colloquial nostalgia. “Come get some kai in your puku”; “That's ka pai!”

Julia Gillard was the first woman my little sister saw leading us on TV. She also saw her discarded. When Gillard was called a "witch" or a "bitch", she was watching.

The way we treat our female leaders instils a message in the minds of young girls. In Australia, that message seems to be one of equality mitigated by condition: you can be whatever you want, as long as you can put up with the flak.

My grandma bemoans the fact that my little sister has lost her New Zealand accent. Place affects us unconsciously yet inevitably. While she will not face the burden of reciting "fish and chips" to an enthralled audience, she may have larger problems to deal with.

She may accept sexism as a part of our culture, or think it's universal. Alternatively, she might fight it, fight the treatment of herself, our leaders, and our women. Injustice breeds rebellion, and her generation will again be at the forefront.

Either way, she will have to face a crossroads I did not. For better or worse, my little sister will know the word misogyny.