Fatima Payman (WA, Australia's Voice) Share this | Hansard source

This morning I announced that Australia's Voice will be pushing the government to pursue click-to-cancel, a legislative change that would provide a positive impact for consumers across Australia. Do you ever sign up for a free trial and then forget about it, only to be reminded when the trial ends and the first bill arrives? When you sign up for something, they make it impossible to cancel. What if these companies were required to make it as easy to cancel a subscription as it is to sign up, and to provide reminders before they charge you at the end of a free trial? That's what click-to-cancel is all about—putting you, the consumer, back in control.

Last year the government announced a consultation on this topic, but since then the only thing that has happened is the minister retiring. I've written to the new minister to act on the findings of the consultation and legislate a ban to ensure that subscription traps and similar trading practices affecting millions of Aussies out there are banned. There has been an overwhelming amount of support since the launch of the petition about an hour ago, with over 100 people signing it and sharing these comments: 'It's bloody hard to cancel anything. I can't explain how much I wished and waited for anything like this. Thank you. This is sorely needed. Good on you. It's very annoying not being able to unsubscribe. I got locked into a subscription. They made it very difficult to back out, but I got there. Great initiative.' I've heard from time-poor mums and dads who have no idea what games and apps their children are downloading on their phones until they see the transaction on their bank statement.

Speaking of mothers, I want to reflect on the strength of women and my greatest role model, my mum. When I was 22 my dad passed away from cancer. Just like that, everything changed. My mum, a migrant woman, lost the love of her life, and was left to raise and provide for me and my three younger siblings all by herself. Despite the odds, and against the heartbreak, she drew on the strength that only a mother has. To provide for her children, she started her own business. She became a driving instructor, teaching other migrant women how to drive. She worked constantly, teaching during the day and cleaning and cooking at night. She made sure we ate well, that we studied and that we stayed true to our faith and our values. I was the eldest, so I stepped up: I packed the school lunches, I helped with homework and I paid the bills while I studied pharmacy at uni and worked at a pizza shop. But, really, it was all mum. She sacrificed everything—her time, her health, her mental health—but she did it. She raised a family she can be proud of: my sister, a pharmacist with her own little four-year-old son; my two brothers, both respected engineers in their own rights; and me, a proud senator for WA.

I don't know how she did it, but she did, because it's just what mothers do. But after years in the car, on her feet, carrying the weight of her family, raising four children, she feels it. Her back hurts. Her shoulders hurt. These are the sorts of injuries we hear about in our sports stars and our tradies, but our mothers feel it too. This country runs on the unpaid labour of women, yet we barely ever acknowledge it. That's why I am here—because no woman should retire into poverty after a lifetime of sacrifice. No mother should suffer in silence with a broken body and no support. I'm in politics because I want women like my mum to be seen and applauded, to be respected for their strength and to be supported with real, lasting change. We must close the gender pay gap, tackle family and domestic violence, and increase access to specialist support for women's health. This is the least that women deserve. Some people say to do all this is impossible. To them, I say, 'Every single day I woke up and saw my mum do the impossible.' I want to be like my mum, and I want to do the impossible.