An edited extract from the new book by former Greens leader Christine Milne on the taunts and sexism she faced as a woman while forging a path in Parliament

A singular and unflinching vision helped former Greens leader Christine Milne withstand the sexist barbs and vitriol she faced as a woman in Parliament

From day one of my political career in 1989, I decided not to talk about the trials of being a young mother in Parliament. It had huge personal interest value for the media and would have been an electorally popular thing to do, but I knew enough to be sure that allowing your children to be used to positively reinforce your image is not a good decision. When I see people in politics with their children reinforcing family values or softening their image or highlighting women in politics or similar, I worry for the children. If anything goes wrong for them, they risk having it spread across the nation’s media. In my experience, if you keep your family life private, the media respect that choice. If you don’t, then you are all fair game.

Besides, in 1989 there were very few women in Tasmanian politics. Women were expected to fit into the system, not the system to adapt to a different way of seeing or being in the world. Many MPs and members of the community thought women should be home looking after the children and cooking the dinner and not “abandoning” their families. Any reference to the difficulties of public life would have resulted in being told to ”Go home, then”.

It was bad enough being constantly told to smile more by male parliamentarians and journalists. This implies your role is to be pleasant and decorative, that it is unattractive for women to be serious. Looking too serious was a constant criticism during my career. When the charge of excessive seriousness was levelled at Hillary Clinton there was uproar, with recognition that accomplished women in their own right should not be reduced to pretty faces. People asked whether anyone had told Donald Trump to smile more. I thought, ‘At last!’

To make way in politics in the 1990s, you had to be strong, forthright and able to withstand the barbs. Bullies see vulnerability a mile off, and any discomfort or emotion would have been considered signs of weakness.

Bob Hawke could cry and be a hero for showing his feminine side, but if a woman had done the same thing she would have been considered not up to the job. Fortunately, I had learnt at boarding school many years before how to hide emotion. I would never let the nuns see what I was really feeling and I showed nothing to those bullies in the Tasmanian Parliament. The Senate was a cakewalk by comparison.

The Tasmanian Parliament in 1989 was an incredibly hostile, angry, vengeful, white-male-dominated place. The Liberals were angry they had lost government and that Labor, with 13 seats, had displaced them because of an agreement with the Greens. Abuse was hurled across the chamber at [fellow Green] Di Hollister and me. We were called “political sluts”, “in bed with the Labor Party” and “political prostitutes”, among other choice expressions. I was horrified. That kind of language and behaviour would never have been tolerated at home, in the farming community or in the high schools where I had taught, but in the Parliament they were fine, it seemed.

I was mocked for suggesting that on-farm tourism would be a good idea to supplement farm income. “Mrs Milne and her jamled recovery”, resounded around the chamber. When I spoke strongly against a matter in debate, leader of the opposition Michael Field responded, ”Mrs Milne can stamp her feet all she likes”. On it went, week in and week out.

There were no facilities for families in the Tasmanian Parliament in 1989. If your children came to the Parliament, the public areas or your tiny office were the only available places for them to go. I argued for a spouse and family room with a lounge suite, a television set, a fridge and tea and coffee-making facilities. It was eventually provided, but a few years after I left it was disbanded. I also worked to get the sitting hours changed to be more family-friendly, and that is a lasting legacy.

Being thoroughly professional, informed and across the issues engenders respect and makes it harder for the men to undermine you, despite all their insults. They are OK with women they regard as feminine and soft or who are ineffectual, but they are personally challenged by a woman who is their match or better. They cannot stand a woman who stands up to them. Like the bright girl in the class, she must be brought down a peg or two.

The role of celebrity in politics also works to bring women

down a peg or two. For the most part, serious, respected female players are sidelined in favour of the vacuous, or those prepared to play at being vacuous, while serious, respected men are still centre stage. It is disastrous not only for women in politics but also for women in the media, and especially for older women.

I made my career about the issues, not about me. I didn’t want to get on Dancing with the Stars or breakfast TV talking about my children or my relationships or my home or my makeup, simply because that is what people now want to know. If I had to have a makeover to be featured in women’s magazines, I was better off not being there.

My media and communications teams tried hard. They argued that as leader, if I wanted to get more “soft’ media coverage, I had to give more of myself and my family and relationships. Whenever I gave in and agreed to put my toe in the water, I found it highly uncomfortable, even stressful. I would rather write and deliver several Budget Reply speeches than be on Annabel Crabb’s Kitchen Cabinet again, despite her efforts to make me feel at ease.

Having spent decades in politics maintaining a strict focus on the issues so as to be respected and effective, why would I want to sacrifice my last vestige of privacy? Men [often] soften and broaden their image by appearing with their families. If wives, husbands, children or partners want the publicity and that works out well, that’s fine. But for many women in politics their sense of self doesn’t require framing with a partner and children. Their partners and children don’t need or want it, either. Women’s equality will be enhanced when we see and judge parliamentarians as individuals and not as a family package.

The questions asked of a female politician about her partner are vastly more offensive than those asked of her male counterpart. Shock jock Howard Sattler put to prime minister Julia Gillard on radio that her partner Tim Mathieson was a closet gay. Can you imagine any shock jock putting a question like that to any male prime minister about his wife or partner?

I am frustrated that as more women are being elected to politics after decades of campaigns for equal representation and equal rights, what they have to say is still deemed to be less wise or important than the words of men. Older men — especially older white men — are respected as wise elders in society and in the Parliament. They are the ”fathers” of the Senate or the House of Representatives. It is a complete joke when you listen to a lot of what they say. So many represent an era of white male privilege, social injustice and ecological destruction, whereas older women who have fought that privilege all their lives are regarded as old and past it, and should get out of the way.

If we as women abandon the substance of what we have to say for the sake of popularity and profile, there will be no drivers for change in parliaments. If we fail to stop the slide into Hollywood, we will see women elected to Parliament but we will not see advances on common decency, on addressing women’s rights, family violence, global warming, the environment, inequality, pay parity, marginalisation, housing, superannuation gaps, child care, overseas aid — and the list goes on.

It is said that if only we had equal representation of women in Parliament, politics would be better and kinder. I support equal representation because it is fair that half the population secures half the seats. But women — even those in business and politics who have made it against the odds — are not necessarily femi- nists or role models for the advancement of women’s rights or a better, kinder world. This is because they are bound by the same party lines as their male counterparts. This is why I was less enthusiastic than most about prime minister Gillard’s misogyny speech. Like women everywhere I was pleased that she had ripped into then opposition leader Abbott. I too had been disgusted by the “Ditch the Witch” and “Bob Brown’s Bitch” signs and the fact that Bronwyn Bishop, Sophie Mirabella and Fiona Nash were happy to stand under the signs and say nothing.

But for all her talk about supporting women, Gillard had, on the morning of the misogyny speech, cut financial support for single parents. There was cognitive dissonance between what she was saying to Tony Abbott and the women of the world and what she had just voted to do. Entrenching the marginalisation of women is not the action of a feminist prime minister.

I was, and remain, proud that Australia has had a woman as prime minister. Julia Gillard will be held up as a role model for girls around the country for a long time, and so she should be. Her dignity in the face of extraordinary insult and her consultative leadership style are long-lasting legacies. But her prime ministership was a lost opportunity for the rights of women, refugees, Aboriginal people and the LGBTIQ community.

When asked by women for advice about whether they should go into politics, I say: regard it as one huge opportunity in a life of activism, but only do it if you have a clear idea of the changes you want to make. What is the point of being there if you are only making up the numbers, or for the salary, or the perks? Consider the logistics of where you live and where the Parliament is located and make appropriate choices. Don’t do it as simply a career choice, because it is not worth the sacrifices if it is only about your own advancement. A very clear and compelling purpose makes being an MP not only worthwhile but incredibly fulfilling. You will have done what you knew in your heart you ought to do. Edited extract from An Activist Life, by Christine Milne, UQP, $32.95. Turn to p20 for our interview with the author