At the Sydney Women’s Fund Saluting Sydney Women lunch on Tuesday August 19, we were honoured to hear from our salutee for 2025, Elizabeth Broderick AO. With warmth, humility and wisdom, Elizabeth shared personal reflections and six powerful lessons she has learned through her life and career.
What follows is the full transcript of her speech.
Why I Love Sydney – and How Honoured I Am to Receive This Recognition
Thank you. And thank you Yvonne for your Welcome to Country.
What a joy and an honour it is to receive this recognition — and how special it is to accept it here in Sydney. Every time I fly back to Sydney from overseas, I feel like dropping to my knees, kissing the tarmac and screaming “thank you Universe – I get to live in the best city on earth!”
This city has always held a special place in my heart. It’s where I grew up, where my ideas took shape, and where I’ve had the privilege of working alongside people who are relentlessly committed to law, to justice and equality – many of whom are in this room.
To be recognised by Sydney Women’s Fund here, among people I admire and respect, is profoundly moving. And to have my long suffering yet endlessly supportive husband, my father, my two sisters and my dear friends Lynette and Lisa Chung with me today – is particularly special. Quite simply, no achievement would have been possible without their unwavering support over so many years!
The Essence of Me – My Story
I was born in Hobart, Tasmania. My grandparents were orchardists in the Huon Valley, and my early childhood was spent riding bikes in the apple orchard.
When I was still very young, my father – a nuclear medicine specialist – and my mother, a physiotherapist, moved our family to Sydney.
At home, gender equality was simply the way we lived. Dad did the dishes. Mum made decisions. My sisters and I never learned that there was any limit on what we could do. And whilst my Mum didn’t call herself a feminist – she was in the way she lived. I am so grateful for her modelling, her wise counsel and her can do attitude.
Education and service were at the core of our family. From the age of five, my twin sister and I “worked” in my parents’ medical practice. At first, serving tea to patients. Then later, typing letters. No salary, of course — and if we went on holidays, we were expected to arrange a suitably qualified locum!
But it was while working in the practice that I had my first real taste of inequality.
By then, my twin and I had been promoted – from serving tea to patient transport. Given we were just newly minted drivers, I can’t imagine what possessed my parents to allow us to pick up these poor unsuspecting patients. But they did. I remember picking up an older woman from the hospital – she had a suspected blood clot in her lung. As I drove her to the surgery, she asked, “Do you have any brothers?”
“No,” I said. “But I have two sisters.”
She sighed, “Oh no! Your poor father. He must be so disappointed. No one to carry on the family name or follow in his footsteps.”
I was stunned. Shocked, really.
That moment was perhaps my first real encounter with gender inequality. Maybe that’s where the spark for human rights advocacy was lit.
But having been surrounded by technology early on, and loving science, I enrolled in a combined Computer Science and Law degree at UNSW.
At university the gender imbalance hit me. My first digital logic and assembler programming class – 100 men… and me! Yikes! I knew pretty early on that if I was to have any chance of passing, I would need to trade my essay writing skills for some lengthy computer programming.
After graduating as one of only three women in this course, and after working overseas for several years, I returned to Australia in my late 20s — just as the World Wide Web was emerging. Technology was coming into law firms and I rode its wave by accepting a role at Dawson Waldron (now Ashurst) to establish their first Legal Technology practice.
My colleagues were skeptical. “Don’t you want to be a real lawyer?” they asked. But my passion was to reshape legal services – to make the law more accessible and affordable.
My first assignment? Managing the tech and evidence for a large case in Papua New Guinea. A mountain had collapsed into a tailings pond, and the dispute was over who would pay — the mining company or its insurers. We had designed networks linking the Supreme Court to our hotel – very advanced. But what we hadn’t taken into account was that the court hadn’t paid their phone bill for four years and as a result, all telecommunications had been cut off.
Then came another call — from the IT support provider. There was a problem. The local technician who was to provide tech support had been axed and I don’t mean sacked. I mean actually axed in an attempted robbery. By the first day of the trial, when the client brought a machete to court… just in case ….. I seriously wondered if I had made the right choice!
By 1991, I had been appointed to lead the firm’s Legal Tech Group — which sounded grand, but was really just me and my assistant. Over five years, we grew to 8 lawyers.
One day, a team member came to tell me she was pregnant. That afternoon, another shared the same news. Three weeks later, a third joined the club. What they didn’t know? I was also pregnant. Half the legal team was heading out on maternity leave.
So I made a case for flexible work — based on one simple idea: work and care should never sit at opposite ends of one hard choice. We didn’t ask for permission — we didn’t set out to change the world — we just wanted to make flexibility work in our corner of it. We built a system around our team’s real needs, not just tradition. And it worked! That was 1995. Almost 30 years before COVID disrupted work practice!
One of the best hires we ever made at that time was Michelle, our new secretary. You see Michelle had been a secretary for only three weeks, but she’d been a nanny for six years. With those credentials we needed her on our team.
But like Paul Kelly says, out of small things, big things grow. Ashurst – most female partners.
By the 2000s, I became more focused on why so many talented women were leaving the law. It occurred to me that we didn’t need to “fix these women” – we needed to fix THIS system.
Over time, I’ve grown clearer about my purpose: to build a more inclusive world. A world that listens to women and girls, and values their contribution.
I do that by walking beside brave leaders. I speak honestly. I listen deeply. I hold stories — often painful ones — and use them to engage both head and heart. And most importantly, I try to live what I advocate, because human rights starts at home.
This Work Is More Urgent Than Ever
Today, the world we live in is more fragile, more polarised, and more complex than I’ve ever seen.
We are living through overlapping global disruptions that are reshaping every part of society — and gender equality is right in the crosshairs. I want to call out two shifts.
• Politically, authoritarian and populist leaders are rolling back human rights and the rule of law — and they’re targeting gender justice and LGBTQ+ rights first.
Four months ago I took a delegation of CEOs into the Commission on the Status of Women, the big gender equality meeting in the UN in New York. We could not believe the fear that gender equality advocates and WHRDs were experiencing for those speaking out. Those working in US based NGOs are now needing funding for security camera, personal protection (that’s always been the case for those working on abortion and LGBTIQ rights but personal security is now a concern for many other mainstream human rights organisations), needing funding of their legal fees to defend cases removing their tax status. The fear is palpable. And women human rights defenders are utterly exhausted. But it’s not just the US – it’s every region of the world. But amid the regression, we also saw extraordinary resilience. Because the truth is this: backlash cannot extinguish one’s hunger for justice, for equality, for human rights, for freedom.
The other shift is in the digital sphere:
• Technology is both a lifeline and a battleground.
AI systems are reflecting and amplifying society’s biases. Platforms like TikTok, YouTube and X are accelerating the rise of the ‘manosphere’ — a toxic mix of influencers like Andrew and Tristan Tate, Jordan Peterson and Sneako, who blend self-help with conspiracy and misogyny.
In the UK, 79% of boys aged 16 and 17 have consumed Andrew Tate’s content. His videos, up until 2022 when he was banned, have been viewed 12 billion times. That’s millions of young men being radicalised — not on the dark web, but in plain sight. The message is simple:
Women are the problem, and masculinity means taking back control.
The manosphere isn’t just surviving — it’s mutating, and feeding off broader crises of mistrust and democratic erosion.
I’ve Learned some things along the way: Stories & Lessons from the Front Lines
Lesson One: Influence Isn’t Reserved for the Extraordinary
I have learnt many things over my life, but perhaps one of the most powerful truths I’ve learned is this: you don’t have to be extraordinary to create change. I am certainly not.
I once met a woman at the UN who had led major transformation in her African country. She told me “she did what she could, when she could – and that’s how she changed the world.” That simple phrase has carried me through the hardest moments. I’m seeing women all across the world live by this mantra – in Afghanistan and Iran, in the US and Europe and right here in Sydney, Australia.
You don’t need to wait for everything to be ready. You don’t need to have all the answers. You just need to do what you can, when you can. That’s enough.
Lesson Two: Engage Power with Courage and Care
You can’t shift systems without speaking truth to power.
But truth-telling isn’t about punishment. It’s about engagement. It’s about inviting leaders into the discomfort, touching their hearts so they can act with compassion.
Change doesn’t come all at once. It’s built in layers — small, intentional steps – adding, adding to, adding more. That’s how change happens.
I think of my work with the Australian Defence Force.
When I conducted the Review into the Treatment of Women, I travelled the country listening to stories — some inspiring, many heartbreaking. I realised that change required more than just documenting the problems.
It meant bringing the people with power — the Chiefs of Navy, Army, Air Force — face-to-face with what it really feels like to be excluded, harassed and discriminated against.
So what did we do? We made arrangements so that the Chiefs of Navy, Airforce, Army, VCDF and the CDF could hear and feel what extreme exclusion means; what it’s like to be on exercise for two months when no-one speaks to you; what it’s like to be sexually assaulted by your instructor the very person you go to for advice; what it means to have your career ruined because you spoke out.
I’ll certainly never forget that first face-to-face session – the Service Chief sitting uncomfortably in his chair – the mother nervously escorting her daughter to the chair beside, a box of tissues in the middle. Then that courageous young woman said simply “Sir, I’m so nervous” and the Chief replied, “Believe me, I’m scared too.”
In that moment I knew we had a chance at change. It takes a courageous young woman to tell her story and an authentic and compassionate military leader to admit that he fears what he’s about to be told. 800 sessions.
I learnt that inclusion is not something that can be applied from outside. Inclusion must grow from within. When we prompt an insider to hear and feel exclusion’s unwelcome consequence, we start to plant the seeds of inclusion.
Lesson Three: Collaborate Across Difference
I’ve also learnt that progress depends on partnership.
I remember working with Sharan Burrow of the ACTU and Heather Ridout of AIG to progress paid parental leave. Unions, business leaders and human rights advocates – so often on opposing sides – came together for the common good.
Our joint op-ed began:
“It’s not often that the ACTU, AIG, and the Sex Discrimination Commissioner agree… but we all support a national, government-funded paid maternity leave scheme.”
When you stake out common ground, you create a foundation for transformation. Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good. To see the national scheme which started small, progress now from 18 weeks to 26 weeks with superannuation and equal entitlement for men and women has been wonderful.
Lesson Four: Stories Create Change
Yes data informs. But stories transform.
For example, part of my work has been founding and driving the Champions of Change strategy, a strategy initially designed to engage men to step up beside women and use their power and influence to advance gender equality. It now has 270 CEOs who are divided into 16 groups, with each group meeting four times a year. For many years, the CEOs focused solely on addressing women’s under-representation in leadership. But I wanted the CEOs to understand that one reason women are not engaged in public life is domestic and family violence. That this issue must become a workplace issue. But how to get them engaged. Storytelling.
So I invited two brave survivors – Rosie Batty and Kristy McKellar – to share their stories of domestic violence with Champions of Change.
Rosie spoke of the loss of her son, Luke. Kristy spoke of bruises hidden beneath her suits, of her car keys stolen as a means of control.
And as Rosie told the men “When women living with violence speak, the system doesn’t listen.” Every one of our Champions represents the system so this hit hard. It was a realisation that men might be part of the problem but also at the heart of the solution. These stories shifted hearts. They turned distant statistics into a pressing workplace issue. They sparked real action and now Australia is one of the leading nations in the world recognising domestic violence as a workplace issue – understanding that being safe at work is deeply connected to being safe at home.
Lesson Five: Don’t Forget to Laugh – and Take Care of Yourself
Of course, amidst all this, we must find joy and laughter.
That’s why I love working in a team. We have had many funny times together. I still remember our visit to Tindall Airbase in the Northern Territory. There I was, dining in a NT pub with three colleagues, when a group of blokes at the neighbouring table sent over an expensive bottle of champagne with a cheeky wave.
We didn’t want to disappoint them. But I have to say — their odds were slim. Our table? Two lesbians, one recently engaged woman… and the federal Sex Discrimination Commissioner. A tall order — even by Territory standards.
And I still remember, the time I convened a Champions of Change meeting in May last year. It began innocently enough: faces popping onto the Zoom grid, small talk, someone
pretending to understand how to unmute.
Then… HE arrived. One of our very senior, very respected CEOs. Upside down. Not metaphorically – but completely inverted, on the screen. Like he’d joined the call as a bat hanging in the corner.
Naturally, we pointed it out. “You’re upside down.” He nodded. Still upside down. He nodded again. We offered tech advice. He tried again. But still upside down.
And me and the team? Cool as ice. Didn’t miss a beat. We proceeded to run the entire meeting like nothing was wrong — as if conducting serious business with a human bat hanging in the corner of the screen was standard practice. Grace under pressure. Even when gravity is not on your side.
Lesson Six: Stay Curious, Never Stop Learning
Which brings me to my last lesson – stay curious, never stop learning. Now that I’m nudging into my mid-60s, I’ve found myself entering a new chapter – one that’s less about racing to any finish line apart from that ultimate one – it’s now more about tuning into my own rhythm, finding joy and wonder in my work and in every day moments.
You are not necessarily entitled to a long life — so the real challenge isn’t how long will I live, but what will I do with the time I’m here?
For me this meant that when the opportunity to chair Fondation CHANEL presented, I decided to jump at the chance. The idea of inviting those with wealth to use their resources to create real and lasting change for women and girls globally was hard to resist. There was just one small problem. I know almost nothing about the world of arts, culture and philanthropy.
But honestly? How hard could it be? Actually very hard, but I’m loving it.
Let me tell you about last week. I spent five days cloistered in the English countryside with 18 leaders of the world’s most influential cultural institutions: the NY Ballet, the Guggenheim, M+, the Shed, the National Portrait Gallery…(I know, tough gig) You know just your average casual getaway.
We were there to ask some big questions:
– How do we lead cultural institutions in an age of financial scarcity and political censorship?
– How do we help people live more justly in a good society?
A couple of weeks before the retreat, a big parcel arrived from CHANEL.
I was delirious with excitement. I thought: Could it be another handbag? At least some skincare that might cost more than my car insurance?
No. It was a stack of Socratic readings. The cover note said and I quote:
“Many of these texts will be familiar to you.”
Ah. That would be a hard NO.
There I was — hundreds of pages to read, with zero time and even less Plato.
All I could think was: “Help – get me outta here.”
But you know what? I dived in. I fumbled. I asked questions that made me feel twelve again. And I came out more alive, more engaged, more excited about what I don’t yet know.
That’s the power of curiosity. So don’t let your expertise become your comfort zone. Don’t let success dull your edge.
Stay curious. Keep learning. Even when — especially when — it’s unfamiliar, intimidating, or just totally Socratic. Because that’s where the magic is.
So to all the change makers in this room – each one of you – You don’t have to be extraordinary to create change. Know that who you are is enough. Speak truth to power. Collaborate across difference. Use storytelling. Protect your energy. Laugh out loud. Take care of yourself. Never ever stop learning.
And don’t forget to give generously to the Sydney Women’s Fund!
Thank you.
To support the Sydney Women’s Fund, you can donate here.
Main image: Elizabeth Broderick AO
