Simon Sentosha said “we need to start listening to women”. It’s a shame Q&A wasn’t going to give them the opportunity.

Instead, only two women panelists featured on a six person panel to discuss an epidemic that almost exclusively harms and kills women. Facing online outrage, the show insisted we needed to listen to men’s views on domestic violence.

That’s why there were more of them than women and why the show’s producers allegedly contacted asked Antoinette Braybrook, CEO of the Aboriginal Family Violence Prevention and Legal Service Victoria, if she could recommend an Indigenous man to appear on the show.

There is value in listening to stories from men changing their behaviour. Not to applaud them – because they aren’t some underdog deserving of applause, that should be reserved for their victims – but to drill down into why men are violent, what gets them to change.

But the conversation never got that far. Instead, Our Watch chairperson Natasha Stott Despoja and Australian of the Year Rosie Batty were asked to interpret and validate men. Just as they are not there to absorb their violence, women are not there to absorb a man’s sadness or redemption.

Still, host Tony Jones persisted: “what did you think of that, Natasha?” or “what do you say to that man, Rosie?” Meanwhile, there were myriad permutations on “why do women stay in these relationships?” and not one question of “why do men bash?”, an expectation women must answer for the abuse they receive rather than the men who perpetrate it.

Sentosha took the question on himself and said that, despite the power of patriarchal structures, his male clients feel powerless.

This excuse doesn’t wash because these are men who have already displayed abusive behaviour. Taking Sentosha’s point further, men feel “powerless” because women have exercised choice, something that already abusive men have no interest or skills in “accepting”, an acknowledgement men accept or deny the change to those they abuse.

The lack of questions and in depth responses illustrated a superficiality that raises a far more troubling point – people keep asking basic questions about domestic violence because we’re prevented from discussing it deeply to move past those initial helpless reactions.

Because deep discussion involves listening to women, something that mainstream media and the general public is loathe to do. Talk about an issue that almost exclusively impacts women (two deaths a week in 2015 so far) and it’s automatically filed away as a “women’s issue”, a niche concern that only concerns a small amount of the population.

But it is a national issue – domestic violence costs Australia more than $13bn per year. Domestic violence kills more than king hits, terrorism and the pink batts scheme combined – all incidents sparking national outrage, swift laws and unlocking funds. Not so for domestic violence, with Tony Abbott refusing a call for a royal commission while busily axing more services and funds that had kept crucial frontline services and women alive.

This partly explains Q&A’s response that men’s contribution to the conversation was more important than women’s. Not because men have more to add to the conversation or have the solution that has so eluded women. But because we only take issues affecting women seriously when a man takes notice and gets involved.

The choice of the Q&A panel is instructive in this sense – both Natasha Stott Despoja and Rosie Batty fit well-defined and palatable roles that men will accept. Stott Despoja’s long history of politics makes her an acceptable form of the establishment, committed as she is, but restrained to broad motherhood statements with a calm smile.

And, as the entirely deserving Australian of the Year, as a woman who has done so much that is positive, Batty was brought on the show to represent the personal experience, the individual. It’s compelling viewing, it’s affecting and yet asking her questions to the point of tears still doesn’t illustrate the depth of the problem and lack of government commitment.

Perhaps it’s not as compelling to include academics who delve deep into the models of abuse or the women on the frontline in the courts, shelters and services. The decision to not include a woman from the Indigenous community, where abuse is disproportionately high, and instead include a man defies logic not only in terms of entertainment but also in providing deep expertise and knowledge.

This is not a case of swapping out one woman for another. That fails to grasp the issue as it hems women into that same tiny platform men grant them. Instead of two women there was space for more – but it would have come at the expense of male voices. It’s true that we need to get men to talk about domestic violence. But should we get them talking at the expense of experience or talking over women?

Stott Despoja said “violence is very much a gendered issue and neutrality doesn’t always cut it”. Because at the heart of it is the tragic fact that people will only take violence against women seriously if it is discussed by men without taking the time to listen to the women it affects.

Which just shows the fight for equality has barely begun.