Stephen Jones (Whitlam, Australian Labor Party, Shadow Assistant Treasurer) Share this | Hansard source

It's normally my custom to come to this dispatch box and deliver a thundering, passionate address. There'll not be much thunder today, but there'll be no less passion. We're 10 sitting days from the end of this 46th Parliament. There's a crisis in our aged-care system. Hundreds of Australians are dying in understaffed, underfunded homes, and yet this government seems powerless or unwilling to do anything about it. Two years ago, the government promised a federal anticorruption commission, but the Attorney-General told us yesterday that no such promise will be delivered. There are skills shortages and supply shortages that are preventing businesses from opening and the economy from recovering. Interest rates will certainly rise, which will make the existing cost of living pressures on households even worse. These are the matters that we should be focusing on in the final weeks of this parliament. Instead, we will spend the best part of two days debating the Religious Discrimination Bill 2021, a bill which pleases nobody.

I support freedom of religion and I understand that many in our community want to see the existing laws strengthened to protect their freedom of religious expression. Although we're a long way from the days where newspapers could lawfully carry an ad that said, 'Catholics'—my faith—'need not apply' for a job, I understand the desire for greater recognition and for rights for people of faith. But, regrettably, the sometimes toxic debate that has been unleashed by this bill has put a spotlight on the fact that no rights are unlimited. Where the exercise of one person's right comes crashing up against another person's freedom, we need to find a solution. It can be done, and it's the role of this parliament to do that. The contest of ideas and ways of life are usually dealt with by social norms, by civility and by human decency, and, regrettably, sometimes not. Unfortunately, when parliament steps in, the law has a very blunt way of dealing with them. If we are to do this then we must do it properly, thoughtfully and consultatively, and to date we have not.

If we are to believe the reports in today's paper, the government has failed to bring forward a law which protects children. For me, this is not an academic issue. Last week, my family said farewell to my nephew Wally. He was just 15 when he took his own life. No mother or father should have to endure this sight. No brother should have to clean up afterwards. He was a beautiful, creative, courageous young man. He was loved and accepted by his parents, by his family, by his friends and by his community. His mum and dad are in anguish. We all are. He was gay. He was uncertain about his gender, and he struggled with his mental health. But now he's gone, and we are no longer going to be able to love and support him on his journey through life. Clearly the love and acceptance of his family and friends were not enough.

My own son is a beautiful, creative, intelligent 14-year-old. He designs and makes his own clothes. He's a gifted make-up artist. He moves seamlessly between the wardrobes of men and women. He wears heels that give me vertigo and has more handbags than his sister. He has more courage than any other boy of his age that I've ever met. He swims against the tide. I love and support him unconditionally, and I brag about his talents to anybody who is willing to stop for two minutes and glance at his Instagram page. But I worry myself sick every time he leaves the house. I think to myself, 'You look beautiful, but do you have to go out looking like that?' Because I know that the love and protection that he enjoys from his mother, his friends and his family is very different to the reception that he may receive in the outside world. Could this be the day we receive the call that says something has happened, that he has been attacked for just being who he is?

Yes, this is about my kids. But it's not. It's about all of our kids. It's about the families of those kids. It's about every child who has had the courage to swim against the tide just to be who they are. Earlier today, the Prime Minister said we should exercise our power in this place with love. I know the cynic in all of us could easily giggle at that phrase and dismiss it as a political line, but I don't. I agree. I'm asking the Prime Minister to reflect on those words as we consider the bill. I'd ask the Prime Minister and every other member in this place to put themselves in the shoes of the parents, or the heels of their kids, as they step out in public. What message do we want this parliament to send to these kids? Are they as loved and cherished and respected as every other kid? Surely we aren't saying to them, 'It's okay if you are gay, just so long as we don't see it'? Surely we can do better than that.

At some stage, we have to do better than that, because the thing that every parent of every gay or trans kid knows is that the love and protection that we provide for them inside our family and inside our homes is not enough. At some stage, they have to step out into the world and deal with it as it is. We, as parliamentarians, have the power to shape that world by what we do, what we say and how we vote. What message do we want to send to our kids?

There's a simple ease with which the members of this place toss sausages on a charity barbecue, drink a beer, stick a hat on for a photo opportunity, smile for the camera and put on a footy jumper and cheer for their favourite team. I do it regularly. When we do that, we're signalling to Australia, or at least to Australia as we want to imagine it: 'We're just like you,'. But the fact is that Australia is a much more diverse place than that which we project from our pulpit in this place. Being an Aussie is about much more than punting on the Melbourne Cup or yelling, 'Go, Saints' or 'Go, Sharkies'. It's much more complex than that.

It's the high responsibility of all of us called to this place to reflect on and shape the sort of Australia that we want to have, and it's a bloody diverse place. It's black, it's white, it's brown, it prays in a church, it prays in a mosque, it prays in a shrine, in a synagogue, in a hall, or on a surfboard just behind the breaks. It's men, it's women, it's straight, it's gay, it's trans, it's intersex—it's the whole bloody lot. We are the Australia of Storm Boy, of Breaker Morant, of Puberty Blues, and, yes, of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. It's not easy crafting a national story that includes all of us, but that's our damn job—that's our job—and the national story must have a place for all of us and all of our kids: how we imagine them, but, more importantly, how they are. If a young kid has the courage to be themselves and own their identity, the very least that we can do—the very least—is to say: 'Welcome. We love you, and we respect you, and you're okay just the way you are.'

My family are grieving, like so many others. There have been too many funerals, too many grieving families. We have in our gift the power to do something. Let's not let the opportunity pass. I thank my friends who have come to provide support to me. I thank the Leader of the Opposition, my good friend, for sitting through what for me has been a difficult address. I know there will be many people listening or who will read the speech afterwards who want me to conclude with the words, 'Let's dump this bill.' But I'm not saying that. What I'm saying to the Leader of the Opposition and to the Prime Minister, if he'll listen, is: 'Let's take a step back. Let's imagine a national story that talks to all of us. Let's not do something in the name of freedom of religion that does damage or harm to those we love.' We've been to too many funerals. Let's get this done, but let's do it properly. Surely it is not beyond the wit and wisdom and decency of every member of this place to get this done properly. I thank you for your time.

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