Ms Coffey:

Mr Speaker, I acknowledge the traditional owners of this place, the Ngunnawal people, and their elders. I acknowledge that our parliament assembles on what always was and always will be Aboriginal land. Let me tell you a bit about my community, its physicality and its soul.

Griffith stretches from the bustle of sellers in West End's Davies Park markets to the squeak of sneakers at the Clem Jones Centre, in Carina. It's the sleepy koalas nestled in the tallest gums of Whites Hill Reserve, staring, between chews, out to the city's lights. It's the sound of skiffs pushing off from the Brisbane Sailing Squadron, in Bulimba, and everything in between. Griffith is the weekly tribe of B4C volunteers, with gloved hands and soiled knees, restoring our waterways one mud squelch at a time. Griffith is the Romero Centre refugee support workers, with smiles so warm you can hear them, welcoming new arrivals to our community. It's the bellow of the full-time siren on Jack Esplen Oval after a Morningside Panthers' win, and it's the escalating beeps of a laden forklift in a Murarrie warehouse.

Griffith is the rustle of scrubs on our diligent, hardworking and caring health workers at the PA, Mater and Greenslopes hospitals, who are performing daily miracles with a sense of humour in a universal healthcare system that is the envy of the world. It's the adorable giggles at mat time led by some of the country's best teachers and educators, who are building the busy brains of our next leaders. It's the chitchat of hospitality workers in cafes and restaurants all over, the clink of two steins at Brisbane German Club before the Lions beat the Bulldogs at the Gabba and the titter as the lights dim and the curtains lift on yet another world-class performance by the Queensland Ballet, the QTC or the QSO. I can't believe this is my job—to be representing my community, hearing it and listening to it. I want to thank the people of Griffith, who have trusted me to listen to their voices and to bring them to this place. The weight of that trust is not lost on me, and I vow to carry it daily with the dedication it deserves.

I had the chance to listen to the voices of my community when I knocked on almost 15,000 doors personally. This is often seen as a necessary part of campaigning, but I think it's so much more than the steps we take to get to this place; it's our training, and, if we do it right, it's the source of our continuous professional development. If we don't listen, if we just talk, how on earth do we know the needs that we are representing? I had the great fortune to hear every kind of story, stories from every walk of life, without discrimination. But my doorknocking has left me with some lingering concerns for our nation's and democracy's future. What I found amongst the heartening and funny, the warm and the delightful, was, worryingly, disenfranchisement in some parts of my community—and I'd hazard a guess that's not limited to Griffith. I believe this can be seen in the number of informal votes, in those people who chose not to vote and, in many instances, in those who voted for more extreme representation. Too often I heard, 'Politicians are all the same,' or, 'There's no point in voting.'

Research tells us that Australia's trust in government has generally declined since 2007, alongside a significant drop in trust in political institutions and a rise in dissatisfaction with how democracy works. I can't tell you how many times, like King Solomon and the baby, I directed a voter to ABC's Vote Compass to encourage them to find a party to vote for when I knew it would not be a vote for me. In a democracy, to vote is first in importance, far more important than a vote for any one candidate to be able to triumph within it. I believe politicians everywhere must embrace authenticity, moral courage and genuine connectedness to win back trust not just for political parties but for democracy itself.

In strengthening our democracy, we strengthen our future. I believe there are some concrete ways this can be achieved. First, we need to seek to understand before we are understood. I personally undertook six months of full-time seven-days-a-week doorknocking, with 1.7 million steps—the equivalent of walking 112 times across the full length of my electorate. And I would do it again in a heartbeat, because, having walked over 200 kilometres of the Camino de Santiago, I can tell you doorknocking was a pilgrimage, a daily meditation. In the thousands of conversations I had, in addition to the heartening and the funny, I found people who were lonely, people who had been let down or overlooked and people who disagreed with me or my party's position. So often I found myself sitting on someone's front steps for an hour or more, just listening, and I realised we must hold space for those we disagree with, for people who say things we find unsettling, and we must listen deeply and with a determined openness, honouring the inherent dignity of all.

Two, we have to admit mistakes, see the merit in our opponent's perspectives and, when it's right to, change our minds—which is hard when the gallery is itching to accuse any politician of a backflip or backpedalling. A backflip makes for a salacious headline, but it's not the story. The story is what goes into a political actor discovering, having listened to stakeholders, that the solution to a problem is not quite what they thought it was when they set out to fix it. In this chamber, I look forward to debate. I look forward to hearing arguments I first disagreed with and find myself slightly persuaded by. The composition of this chamber is the visual representation of our nation's current ways of thinking, which means, despite a loud and convincing victory for Labor, there is still a spectrum of views, and each one of them deserves respect and a ready ear. I want to hear all those views. It's my job. And it's my job to represent all the people of Griffith. I must deliver for the people who brought me here and the ones who didn't vote for me. I commit to showing up for all of them every single day for as long as they'll have me.

Three, we can only combat cynicism and scepticism, apathy and resentment if we show up wholeheartedly every single day in this place and in our communities. This is hard for us all in an age of social media, where I was told online, during the campaign:

Just another wokie. Get back in the kitchen

And:

Typical city dweller women shut ur mouth u no nothing about the real world

And:

Bleach blonde. Opinion invalid

We must remember, as Simone Biles cautioned us, a hurtful act is the transference to others of the degradation which we bear in ourselves. We must keep showing up for all of them, wholeheartedly, again and again—showing up each day to Roosevelt's arena. I believe this is the only way to combat the growing disengagement and disillusionment. We must hold on to the optimism that first brought us into this place—hold on to what we know is the capacity of the Australian people.

Four, we must show courage, and, as CS Lewis pointed out, courage is not simply one of the virtues but the form of every virtue at its testing point. In my conversations with constituents, courage was being frank when I knew something couldn't be fixed or would be slow to fix. It was speaking up even when it meant we disagreed, admitting when things are complex and honouring people's ability to understand this. As tempting as it is to bluff through a suggestion with a great idea when you know full well that's not how it works, to do so ruptures the very trust placed in us, stoking and justifying the cynicism I've already addressed. It is weak to placate, to take the easy path, to leave a brochure and knock on the next door. We must find the time, the strength and the patience to better express ourselves, to explain our position and to agree to disagree when we know it to be true.

And, finally, we need to be kind and see compassion for its inherent strength. In 'This is water', Foster Wallace concluded the really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline and effort and being able to truly care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in a myriad of petty, little, unsexy ways everyday. He concedes it is unimaginably hard to do this, to live consciously, adultly, day in and day out.

On election day, I was stunned when a voter told me he couldn't possibly vote for me because I have MS, and he couldn't be represented in parliament by someone who could be in a wheelchair. To be clear, this was the only time I received feedback like this from any of the more than 111,000 voters in my community, and it knocked the wind out of me. In a strange turn of fate, it was the then member for Griffith, Max Chandler-Mather, who saw me step away from that interaction, and the kind words of support he offered me I will never forget. Max and I have differing views about how positive change should be brought about in our community, but it was his radical kindness that day that I wish to acknowledge from this seat he once held. I recognise it, as I have it in me. And the Australian people recognise it, because they voted for a prime minister who values kindness, one who sees kindness and compassion as strengths. I thank Max for his kindness and I wish him well for his next chapter.

There's another political opponent I'd like to thank, while we're on the topic. It was Senator Pauline Hanson who prompted me to step up and get involved. I had been raised to be welcoming to strangers, inclusive and supportive of those struggling and in need. I am also always very keenly aware of Australia's history. My own ancestors who were early Queensland pastoralists perpetrated some of the worst massacres of First Nations people in our history in the Bundaberg and Gin Gin regions of Queensland in the mid-1800s. In 1996, Senator Hanson delivered her first speech to this House. I was 15 years old, and it was a speech that quite literally changed the course of my life. In it, Senator Hanson claimed that we were being 'swamped by Asians'. She criticised those people working to support First Nations people and multicultural groups, and in Queensland this speech gave rise to a new wave of racism.

At 16, I helped establish Young Australians for Anti Racism and Reconciliation to combat the racism and division that we were seeing in our communities. In 2000, I was selected by Aunty Jackie Huggins as a youth speaker for Corroboree 2000. I was there in the Sydney Opera House as elders called out, 'Say sorry,' to then prime minister John Howard, who refused to apologise to the Stolen Generations. I saw the tears run down their cheeks as they turned their backs on his cold obstinance. This had a profound impact on me. I doubled down on my volunteer work with Reconciliation Queensland, alongside the late Aunty Joan Hendriks, a force of kindness and industry, which ultimately saw me move to Adelaide for two years to work with my now dear friend and mentor Professor Peter Buckskin and the late Dr Lowitja O'Donoghue, heading up their state reconciliation body. I have been shaped by some formidable First Nations elders and other leaders in this space. I went on to work for 13 years for the Australian Indigenous Education Foundation, alongside Michelle and Andrew Penfold, two more forces for good in this world—work that saw more than 1,000 First Nations young people receive a transformational scholarship.

Eight years after Corroboree 2000, I sat up there in the gallery and witnessed first-hand former prime minister Kevin Rudd's profound and moving apology to the Stolen Generations. It was one of Rudd's very first acts in the new parliament. Rudd is someone I have known since childhood, someone who I've seen fall asleep, exhausted, on my family's couch every Friday night after a hectic week of his own doorknocking pilgrimage through the streets of Griffith. Here he was, in federal parliament, putting right that which was wrong. The contrast to Howard's refusal was stark. Whilst I had always held Labor values, in that moment I saw how Labor governments can have a decisive, demonstratable and profound impact on people's lives. I joined the party shortly after.

You must first know who you are and what you stand for before you can hitch your identity to a political wagon. As soon as I did, it was as clear as a kookaburra at dawn. I am Labor because I believe our First Peoples have the inherent right of all Australians to thrive. Labor is the party of native title, the Redfern Statement and the apology, a party that deeply understands the importance of Australia's First Nations people to our nation's history, identity and future.

I am Labor because I believe in the primacy of education and its power to transform lives. As a qualified secondary school teacher and a mother to two young boys, I know education is the key to every Australian's future. As our Minister for Education, Jason Clare, shared, it is 'the great equaliser in an unequal world'. I believe in the importance of civics education and media literacy in upholding our democracy, the importance of teachers to learning outcomes and that, whatever school a family chooses, their child deserves the best education Australia can offer.

I am Labor because I believe that everyone, including those differently abled and managing complex health conditions, deserve the best health care and a chance to thrive. At 29, I sat in a neurologist's office staring at my MRI and was told I likely had multiple sclerosis. It shook me. I searched for people living openly and thriving with this disease, and I found few, so I chose to live openly and vulnerably, whatever my trajectory. Thank you to the people of Griffith and the Labor Party for accepting me as I am. I hope this acceptance is a balm to others who may be living isolated in the shadows of their own diagnoses. I am thankful to say that, with Professor George Jelinek's program, 14 years on I am living well with MS. Labor created Medicare and the NDIS, systems vital for people with disabilities and chronic health conditions. Labor champions antidiscrimination in a society where everyone is treated with respect and can participate fully.

I am Labor because I believe in an Australia that is for women. I was blessed to call the late Dr Dale Spender a friend and mentor. I wish Dale was here today to see me join the continuation of Labor's first majority-women government. To walk in this place alongside my heroes—even more women who have helped shape me and who I am and who our country is—means so much.

And, most pressingly, I am Labor because we need urgent action to address the climate crisis and to protect our natural environment. Labor is protecting threatened species and oceans; approving record renewable energy projects; rescuing the Murray-Darling; setting emissions targets in law; and, soon, establishing our first independent national environment protection agency. When I left Norman Park kindy at five, my teacher, Mrs Cooper, told Mum she'd likely see me on the news, chained to a tree. Instead, I found a home in the Labor Environment Action Network, standing proudly alongside some of Australia's greatest environmental activists, who keep climate and nature at the heart of our work.

Now is probably a good time to thank my mum, Dianne Coffey; my dad, Raymond Coffey; my sister, Fleur Foster; her husband, Wayne; and her children, Brigid and Sean. Over the past couple of decades, my family has had a front-row seat to some of the highs and lows of Australian politics. Protectively, I am sure they have their reservations. Despite this, they have offered me nothing but the best support.

Our family, our roots, are inexorably tied to Griffith. As a child, my grandmother Florence Hilda May Watson moved from Crows Nest in Queensland to Bulimba, where she met and married my grandfather, Stanley Fletcher, known as 'Pop'. Pop was a cleaner in a picture theatre and a Missos member—what is now the United Workers Union, my union. They lived in a small workers cottage on Bulimba Street. My mother was raised by my grandma and her older brother, Harry, and his wife, my aunty Joan Fletcher, following the unexpected passing of Pop when my mum was just seven years old.

My other grandfather, Alexander Coffey, was the child of Scottish immigrants. He was a fitter and turner and married my nanna Edna Blair. They lived in Beatrice Street, Hawthorne, where Dad grew up. Mum and Dad met at Balmoral State High School, where there is now a Coffey House, named after my family and particularly my late uncle Dennis Coffey, who broke the world record for the longest straight flight in a single-engine aircraft. He flew from Carnarvon in Western Australia, intending to land at Brisbane Airport, but ran out of fuel and glided into Archerfield. His record still stands. My father will be very pleased to know that that has now been recorded in Hansard.

My mum and dad raised us in Miles Street, Hawthorne. We found community at St John the Baptist at Bulimba, where we made many friends, including the Rudd family.

I also want to thank my Labor family—the almost 1,000 local members of the Australian Labor Party. I am proud my candidature was successful through a rank-and-file preselection process. It matters to me that I am here with their blessing and support.

To our branch members I say thank you. Your relentless commitment to telling our story, to sharing our values and to doing so with whatever spare time you had, for no personal gain, is deeply humbling, and I know you did it because you believe in a Labor that I believe in. You believe in serving people, in justice, in kindness and in integrity.

To first among equals, Peter Kington: thank you. Thank you to my amazing campaign team, led by Alicia Weiderman. Thank you to Matthew Stoward, Brayden White, Grace, Emi Hall, Patrick Hanlan, Jordan Ayton, Claudia Meza, Claire Single, Anahita Ebrahimi, Mitchell Jones, Peter Allen, Conor Wood, Sarah Bowman, Lisa Maroney, Gabe Kramer and Hayden Shepphard. Thank you also to Sam, Fiona and Lisa, Stephen Sadler, Nicole and Chris Boulton, Lenne Bridges, Kate Flanders, Ben Driscoll, Ben Coates, Richard Alcorn, Father Daniel Hobbs, Kyl Murphy, John Arnol, Patti Reilly, Paul Ericson and Senator Murray Watt.

Thank you to the United Workers Union, a union still working to support some of Australia's most vulnerable workers. Thank you also to the RTBU and the broader union movement.

Thank you to our prime minister, Anthony Albanese, and to the many ministers, Labor caucus members and their teams from across Australia who were so supportive. Thank you to our local elected representatives, including Joe Kelly MP, Dr Barbara O'Shea MP and Councillor Lucy Collier—and a special thankyou to Di Farmer MP, who has invested so much in me over the years. Thank you to Terri Butler, the former member, Troy Spence and family. Thank you also to Kevin Rudd, Therese Rein, Jess Rudd and their families.

And thank you to my three leading gentlemen. To my children, Alexander and Lewis: thank you for letting me pursue my life's work. And to my remarkable husband, Jason McKenzie, my companion on this journey: we did it.

In closing, I say that I believe it is listening that builds trust, courage that prizes honesty and kindness that drives justice. I believe that when we in this place are at our best—that is, listening intently, speaking hard truths with integrity, being brave and compassionate—it will help shape a future that we can be proud of, a future where dignity and opportunity belong to everyone.

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