“I felt like I’d been hit by a truck.”
“It was completely debilitating.”
“It was sharp shooting pains, like electrical pains throughout your entire body.”
“I was screaming in pain. I was crying. It was horrific.”
Despite the pain, despite the screaming, these women have been silenced. They have been forced to endure suffering in obedient silence, a silence society has long endorsed. Victims of the systemic misogyny that continues to plague our world, they are crying out for our help—for their voices to be returned to them. Protest, ladies, remains the clearest and most effective means for us to challenge this misogyny in the 21st century. It has never been men who are ignored. Let that sink in.
I come before you today to offer a different perspective on protest and to challenge your doubt. Good evening. I stand here to insist that you use your right to protest on behalf of the millions of women whose voices have been suppressed time and time again while the rest of society remains oblivious.
Yes, protest can be inconvenient. Traffic slows. Work is interrupted. The nearest coffee shop may even close its doors. But protest is essential in advancing justice for women, especially in the medical field, where our silence and acquiescence threaten not only to sustain misogyny and suppress crucial voices, but also to erode the very foundations of our democracy.
As women, we must recognise and wield the fundamental power of protest to disrupt and destabilise the systemic misogyny that continues to grip the medical field.
You may believe this issue has already been addressed because the medical industry, like many others, has formal avenues through which dissatisfied patients can make complaints. However, as seen in the case of several of gynaecologist Dr Simon Gordon’s patients, legitimate complaints about his treatment of women’s bodies were pushed aside and belittled in favour of protecting his reputation. So I ask you—where are these women meant to go from there? When official complaints are dismissed and protest is avoided, their voices are simply silenced.
Take Sarah Hayden, a more recent case which has come to light. Hayden, who suffers from endometriosis, a misunderstood and ultimately incurable condition, was told by Gordon that one of her ovaries needed to be removed. Trusting his authority, she agreed, only to later discover that the procedure could have placed her in a life-threatening situation. She immediately notified AHPRA, only to find that she was one of many women whose complaints had been lodged and then promptly forgotten, despite several near-death experiences. She placed her life in the hands of the authorities, and they discarded it—using her status as a woman to invalidate her concern.
AHPRA, the regulatory body designed to protect patients from situations such as these, has recently been criticised for failing to act on complaints. However, it shouldn’t have reached crisis point before action was taken. For too long, Dr Simon Gordon’s patients tried to speak out about the injustices they had suffered before any meaningful effort was made to address the blatant misogyny and abusive treatment they endured, or to prevent further harm.
The divide between men and women becomes clear in the fact that only now are Gordon’s actions being fully exposed. That isn’t to say such crimes haven’t been committed against men; rather, it is to suggest that men’s concerns are more readily heard, believed, and acted upon. How can anyone justify the difference in treatment? There is no logical answer—only discrimination.
Society continues to make the same mistake: glorifying the act of “enduring it” and praising the so-called “strength” to accept whatever comes your way. That idea may work on a small scale—a tough school camp, a hard day, a personal challenge—but when it comes to systemic injustice, the worst response is often to sit down and endure it.
If we continue to celebrate the “grit” to withstand misogyny, then we are not resisting oppression—we are endorsing passivity and making meaningful change almost impossible. When women speak out, they shed light on conditions such as endometriosis and other health conditions that, despite their prevalence, remain poorly understood and inadequately treated—especially when compared to men’s health issues. Unsurprisingly, those in positions of power within the medical field often resist these revelations.
By raising their voices, women reveal the profound injustice inflicted upon them by a system that has historically failed to understand their bodies and the conditions that affect them. This ongoing neglect exposes a stark lack of true equality—one that cannot, and should not, continue to be endured.
The Suffragettes won women’s right to vote through the courage to protest, not the “grit” to endure injustice. Similarly, the #MeToo movement gained attention and drove progress by bringing women together to challenge, disrupt, and expose the systems that enabled sexual harassment.
Throughout history, women have been forced to endure misogyny in many forms—from overt expectations that they remain at home and serve others, to subtler injustices such as the ongoing misunderstanding of their medical conditions. At every turn, they have been hit by the truck of misogyny—the expectation that suffering must be quietly endorsed. Yet again and again, protest has been the way women rise, resist, and reclaim power.
If you agree that every person here today has the right to have their concerns recognised, and if your voice has ever felt stifled, then take a stand. Sarah Hayden’s voice deserved to be heard, and so do yours. If the authorities won’t listen, then protest until they do.
Women did not win the right to vote through one lady’s polite request; the Suffragettes protested tirelessly for decades until they could no longer be ignored. Emmeline Pankhurst’s speeches were urgent and unflinching. She was not restrained by the desire for social approval, nor was she intimidated by confrontation. Like her, we must frame this struggle for what it is: a fight for justice, equality, and basic human rights.
Protest is vital to keep our voices alive. Do not simply endure the truck’s blow. Recognise the misogynistic minefield of the medical world—but also recognise the possibility of change.
The fight for justice continues. Do not endorse this silence. Do not endure this injustice. Protest.