Food system's billions of 'hidden costs' a sick outlook
Millions of Australians are being let down by a national food system that is cultivating insufficient fresh produce, contributing to high obesity rates and diet-related diseases, a first-of-its-kind report has found.
The CSIRO report, released on Monday, found such "hidden costs" could be as much as $274 billion - the highest of any equivalent system worldwide.
The agency's research examined Australia's network of food production, processing, transport, distribution, marketing and consumption to strengthen it against sustainability challenges and boost the delivery of healthy food.
Among key issues in the $800 billion system - underpinned by 100,000 farmers - was a scarcity of fresh produce ending up on the tables of Australian consumers.
"Australia's food system does not produce enough vegetables to meet recommended daily intakes," the report by the nation's science agency said.
"The promotion of convenient, highly processed foods is costing the Australian economy billions (of dollars) in lost productivity from the impact of preventable, diet-related diseases."
There was a "significant opportunity for communities, governments and businesses to work together to create future food environments that are healthier, more sustainable and more equitable".
Australia's "industrialised food system" included many high-quality and safe items, but was also associated with obesity and diet-related diseases at epidemic levels.
This was linked to the poor diet of the average Australian, who ate too few fruit and vegetables and too many nutrient-poor "discretionary foods".
"Displacement of healthy foods with discretionary foods means that many Australians suffer from micronutrient deficiencies despite the relative abundance of food," the report said.
There was also uneven access to grocery stores for healthy diet choices, room for improvement on food safety, and widespread food insecurity across the country, according to the report.
About 3.4 million households experienced moderate or severe food insecurity in the past 12 months, while 31 per cent of remote Indigenous people experienced food insecurity, it said.
In addition to impacts on human health, hidden costs include animal welfare, loss of biodiversity, greenhouse gas emissions, pollution and air, soil and water degradation, and food waste.
"This national stocktake provides an evidence base to guide our actions as social, cultural, environmental, and economic priorities shift," CSIRO agriculture and food director Michael Robertson said.
"We have an intergenerational responsibility to pursue these goals vigorously."
Foodbank chief operating officer Sarah Pennell said the findings confirmed the charity's observations from operations around the country.
"Too many Australians are struggling to afford and access nutritious food," Ms Pennell said in a statement.
"It's especially concerning that fresh fruit and vegetables, essential for good health, are among the first things to be cut from household budgets when money is tight.
"Good nutrition is a basic right, not a luxury, and this report reinforces the urgency of addressing Australia's growing food insecurity crisis."
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- The Advertiser
'You can't take the body home': sacred death ritual helped family's grief
When Jennifer Mason died at age 70, she had an unusual plan. She wanted to be brought home to Anna Bay for a few days. Jennifer, who died in early May from a massive stroke, had discussed her end-of-life wishes with daughter Katrina Mason. Instead of her body being taken to the morgue and then a funeral home, she wanted to come home. "Most people were like, 'You want to do what? You can't take the body home'," Ms Mason said. "Hospital staff and mainstream funeral providers did not know anything about how to make this happen." Ms Mason found people to help. "I said to Mum, as she was dying, that I've figured out how to do it. "And she literally started that final process of death then. Her breathing started to slow." Ms Mason said bringing the body home was part of "a movement called sacred death care". This involved death doulas who "help prepare you and your family for death". "Family and friends come and go and people share stories. There are opportunities to say thank you and anything you regret. "It is common in Pacific Island and Indigenous cultures. It's also a Tibetan Buddhist practice." Two hours after Jennifer died, she was taken home. "We put her body in her own bed on a cold plate. We shrouded her and spent the next four days at home with her," Ms Mason said. "Friends and family decorated her fully biodegradable cardboard casket. We put her in the casket on the day she was going for cremation." Ms Mason said the experience was "profoundly beneficial and beautiful". Paperbark Deathcare doula Bernadette Connolly helped with the care of Jennifer's body. "Newcastle is a conservative place, but people should know there are options," Ms Connolly said. "I call it family-led death care. The Masons opened their arms to me and I prepared Jenny's body, so they could have those days with her." Kerrie Noonan, director of the Death Literacy Institute, said, "There is increasing awareness of the role of death doulas and also home-based death care". "In NSW, we have the option of bringing our dead home," Dr Noonan said. "These are not new practices. Only two generations ago, it was common for people to die at home and be cared for until the funeral and burial." Many people are reclaiming these caring rituals, which are much cheaper than a standard funeral. John Wilson, author of Supporting People Through Loss and Grief, said being with the departed was "an important ritual across Indigenous tribes in the Pacific, including Indonesia and Australasia". He said this enabled people to "share memories and begin to accept the reality of the death". "It's also a time to find meaning in their life and honour them in death, and is likely to bring comfort. "This is something we so easily lose in our Westernised, sanitised modern funeral practices." As a doula, Ms Connolly sought to bridge the gap between "families saying goodbye to their loved ones and handing them to a funeral director they've probably never met". Newcastle death doula Ruth Boydell said, "Some families want very meaningful ritualised memorials". "They want to feel like they've honoured the person in a spiritual or sacred way," Ms Boydell said. Dr Noonan said washing and dressing a departed loved one, sitting with them and viewing the body "play an important role in the grieving process". "In our fast-paced lives, there is often pressure to move quickly after someone dies. Family-led death care and funerals, however, tend to operate at a different pace. "Research shows that when people have the chance to spend meaningful time with the deceased, it can help support their grief." Jennifer's body was cremated and her ashes scattered in the ocean off Birubi Beach, a place she loved. Ms Mason said her mum had a big heart and a big effect on people. She lived with "love, laughter and light". When Jennifer Mason died at age 70, she had an unusual plan. She wanted to be brought home to Anna Bay for a few days. Jennifer, who died in early May from a massive stroke, had discussed her end-of-life wishes with daughter Katrina Mason. Instead of her body being taken to the morgue and then a funeral home, she wanted to come home. "Most people were like, 'You want to do what? You can't take the body home'," Ms Mason said. "Hospital staff and mainstream funeral providers did not know anything about how to make this happen." Ms Mason found people to help. "I said to Mum, as she was dying, that I've figured out how to do it. "And she literally started that final process of death then. Her breathing started to slow." Ms Mason said bringing the body home was part of "a movement called sacred death care". This involved death doulas who "help prepare you and your family for death". "Family and friends come and go and people share stories. There are opportunities to say thank you and anything you regret. "It is common in Pacific Island and Indigenous cultures. It's also a Tibetan Buddhist practice." Two hours after Jennifer died, she was taken home. "We put her body in her own bed on a cold plate. We shrouded her and spent the next four days at home with her," Ms Mason said. "Friends and family decorated her fully biodegradable cardboard casket. We put her in the casket on the day she was going for cremation." Ms Mason said the experience was "profoundly beneficial and beautiful". Paperbark Deathcare doula Bernadette Connolly helped with the care of Jennifer's body. "Newcastle is a conservative place, but people should know there are options," Ms Connolly said. "I call it family-led death care. The Masons opened their arms to me and I prepared Jenny's body, so they could have those days with her." Kerrie Noonan, director of the Death Literacy Institute, said, "There is increasing awareness of the role of death doulas and also home-based death care". "In NSW, we have the option of bringing our dead home," Dr Noonan said. "These are not new practices. Only two generations ago, it was common for people to die at home and be cared for until the funeral and burial." Many people are reclaiming these caring rituals, which are much cheaper than a standard funeral. John Wilson, author of Supporting People Through Loss and Grief, said being with the departed was "an important ritual across Indigenous tribes in the Pacific, including Indonesia and Australasia". He said this enabled people to "share memories and begin to accept the reality of the death". "It's also a time to find meaning in their life and honour them in death, and is likely to bring comfort. "This is something we so easily lose in our Westernised, sanitised modern funeral practices." As a doula, Ms Connolly sought to bridge the gap between "families saying goodbye to their loved ones and handing them to a funeral director they've probably never met". Newcastle death doula Ruth Boydell said, "Some families want very meaningful ritualised memorials". "They want to feel like they've honoured the person in a spiritual or sacred way," Ms Boydell said. Dr Noonan said washing and dressing a departed loved one, sitting with them and viewing the body "play an important role in the grieving process". "In our fast-paced lives, there is often pressure to move quickly after someone dies. Family-led death care and funerals, however, tend to operate at a different pace. "Research shows that when people have the chance to spend meaningful time with the deceased, it can help support their grief." Jennifer's body was cremated and her ashes scattered in the ocean off Birubi Beach, a place she loved. Ms Mason said her mum had a big heart and a big effect on people. She lived with "love, laughter and light". When Jennifer Mason died at age 70, she had an unusual plan. She wanted to be brought home to Anna Bay for a few days. Jennifer, who died in early May from a massive stroke, had discussed her end-of-life wishes with daughter Katrina Mason. Instead of her body being taken to the morgue and then a funeral home, she wanted to come home. "Most people were like, 'You want to do what? You can't take the body home'," Ms Mason said. "Hospital staff and mainstream funeral providers did not know anything about how to make this happen." Ms Mason found people to help. "I said to Mum, as she was dying, that I've figured out how to do it. "And she literally started that final process of death then. Her breathing started to slow." Ms Mason said bringing the body home was part of "a movement called sacred death care". This involved death doulas who "help prepare you and your family for death". "Family and friends come and go and people share stories. There are opportunities to say thank you and anything you regret. "It is common in Pacific Island and Indigenous cultures. It's also a Tibetan Buddhist practice." Two hours after Jennifer died, she was taken home. "We put her body in her own bed on a cold plate. We shrouded her and spent the next four days at home with her," Ms Mason said. "Friends and family decorated her fully biodegradable cardboard casket. We put her in the casket on the day she was going for cremation." Ms Mason said the experience was "profoundly beneficial and beautiful". Paperbark Deathcare doula Bernadette Connolly helped with the care of Jennifer's body. "Newcastle is a conservative place, but people should know there are options," Ms Connolly said. "I call it family-led death care. The Masons opened their arms to me and I prepared Jenny's body, so they could have those days with her." Kerrie Noonan, director of the Death Literacy Institute, said, "There is increasing awareness of the role of death doulas and also home-based death care". "In NSW, we have the option of bringing our dead home," Dr Noonan said. "These are not new practices. Only two generations ago, it was common for people to die at home and be cared for until the funeral and burial." Many people are reclaiming these caring rituals, which are much cheaper than a standard funeral. John Wilson, author of Supporting People Through Loss and Grief, said being with the departed was "an important ritual across Indigenous tribes in the Pacific, including Indonesia and Australasia". He said this enabled people to "share memories and begin to accept the reality of the death". "It's also a time to find meaning in their life and honour them in death, and is likely to bring comfort. "This is something we so easily lose in our Westernised, sanitised modern funeral practices." As a doula, Ms Connolly sought to bridge the gap between "families saying goodbye to their loved ones and handing them to a funeral director they've probably never met". Newcastle death doula Ruth Boydell said, "Some families want very meaningful ritualised memorials". "They want to feel like they've honoured the person in a spiritual or sacred way," Ms Boydell said. Dr Noonan said washing and dressing a departed loved one, sitting with them and viewing the body "play an important role in the grieving process". "In our fast-paced lives, there is often pressure to move quickly after someone dies. Family-led death care and funerals, however, tend to operate at a different pace. "Research shows that when people have the chance to spend meaningful time with the deceased, it can help support their grief." Jennifer's body was cremated and her ashes scattered in the ocean off Birubi Beach, a place she loved. Ms Mason said her mum had a big heart and a big effect on people. She lived with "love, laughter and light". When Jennifer Mason died at age 70, she had an unusual plan. She wanted to be brought home to Anna Bay for a few days. Jennifer, who died in early May from a massive stroke, had discussed her end-of-life wishes with daughter Katrina Mason. Instead of her body being taken to the morgue and then a funeral home, she wanted to come home. "Most people were like, 'You want to do what? You can't take the body home'," Ms Mason said. "Hospital staff and mainstream funeral providers did not know anything about how to make this happen." Ms Mason found people to help. "I said to Mum, as she was dying, that I've figured out how to do it. "And she literally started that final process of death then. Her breathing started to slow." Ms Mason said bringing the body home was part of "a movement called sacred death care". This involved death doulas who "help prepare you and your family for death". "Family and friends come and go and people share stories. There are opportunities to say thank you and anything you regret. "It is common in Pacific Island and Indigenous cultures. It's also a Tibetan Buddhist practice." Two hours after Jennifer died, she was taken home. "We put her body in her own bed on a cold plate. We shrouded her and spent the next four days at home with her," Ms Mason said. "Friends and family decorated her fully biodegradable cardboard casket. We put her in the casket on the day she was going for cremation." Ms Mason said the experience was "profoundly beneficial and beautiful". Paperbark Deathcare doula Bernadette Connolly helped with the care of Jennifer's body. "Newcastle is a conservative place, but people should know there are options," Ms Connolly said. "I call it family-led death care. The Masons opened their arms to me and I prepared Jenny's body, so they could have those days with her." Kerrie Noonan, director of the Death Literacy Institute, said, "There is increasing awareness of the role of death doulas and also home-based death care". "In NSW, we have the option of bringing our dead home," Dr Noonan said. "These are not new practices. Only two generations ago, it was common for people to die at home and be cared for until the funeral and burial." Many people are reclaiming these caring rituals, which are much cheaper than a standard funeral. John Wilson, author of Supporting People Through Loss and Grief, said being with the departed was "an important ritual across Indigenous tribes in the Pacific, including Indonesia and Australasia". He said this enabled people to "share memories and begin to accept the reality of the death". "It's also a time to find meaning in their life and honour them in death, and is likely to bring comfort. "This is something we so easily lose in our Westernised, sanitised modern funeral practices." As a doula, Ms Connolly sought to bridge the gap between "families saying goodbye to their loved ones and handing them to a funeral director they've probably never met". Newcastle death doula Ruth Boydell said, "Some families want very meaningful ritualised memorials". "They want to feel like they've honoured the person in a spiritual or sacred way," Ms Boydell said. Dr Noonan said washing and dressing a departed loved one, sitting with them and viewing the body "play an important role in the grieving process". "In our fast-paced lives, there is often pressure to move quickly after someone dies. Family-led death care and funerals, however, tend to operate at a different pace. "Research shows that when people have the chance to spend meaningful time with the deceased, it can help support their grief." Jennifer's body was cremated and her ashes scattered in the ocean off Birubi Beach, a place she loved. Ms Mason said her mum had a big heart and a big effect on people. She lived with "love, laughter and light".
The Advertiser
an hour ago
- The Advertiser
The subtle, everyday hurting of LGBTQI Australians
Witnessing acts of casual homophobia usually involved Lea* turning away as a means of hiding from her own feelings. When initially navigating the LGBTQI world and figuring out her own sexuality, she worried about what would happen if she chose to come out. "When I was an anxious teenager still coming to terms with myself, I saw how people treated the only out lesbian at my all-girls school," she tells AAP. "The feelings I had there were fear of rejection, shame and all of that just built into me, and not wanting to come to terms with myself." Regardless of the forum, casual (or in Lea's terms 'acceptable') homophobia is the act of jokingly or subtly victimising LGBTQI people. Instead of directing slurs or physical violence, someone might say "I wish I was gay" or refer to another as "the gay best friend" or even buy someone a gift based on stereotypes of sexual orientation. About three in every hundred Australians identify as LGBTQI, approximately 40 per cent of whom hide their sexuality and/or gender in public spaces, according to the Australian Human Rights Commission. These days, Lea has reached the conclusion that casual homophobia isn't as much her issue as it is the fault of those who practice it. She regards them as immature and in need of a change in thinking. "I just get really disappointed in people who still think there's not the same legitimacy in queer relationships as there are in straight ones," she says. "I'm really disappointed when I have people in my life who still think that being a lesbian means I'm just thinking about tits all the time." LGBTQI individuals endure poorer mental health outcomes than straight people due to a lack of social acceptance, according to Aids Council of NSW co-ordinator Madhuraa Prakash. "LGBTQI people are six times more likely to be diagnosed with depression and two and a half more times more likely to be diagnosed or treated for a mental health condition in general," they say. "It's unfortunate because you want to be able to talk about your life without having to edit yourself. "It weighs on a person to have to do that in your day-to-day life and leads to some bad mental health outcomes." Academic and psychotherapist Pol McCann specialises in microaggression and says although it sometimes stems from ill-intention, it is primarily patronising and performative. At the same time casual homophobia isn't exclusively directed at LGBTQI people either. Mr McCann says he's also heard from straight men who don't align with "typical" feminine or masculine ideas who have been impacted. He spoke with two straight men who were emotional, artistic and bullied by their peers at school. "They were absolutely lovely, smart, engaged guys but you could just tell they still carried the weight of the pain," he says. In the course of his work within the school environment, Mr McCann has spent time with the perpetrators of discrimination too. Some boys would never appreciate the impact they've had on a person's life, as they regard what they've done to be no more than a joke, he says. "The boys who were doing it, were doing it casually and with no malice," he adds. "These guys actually seemed really nice as adults and I don't think they understood how controlling their behaviour was." With June marking Pride Month, LGBTQI advocates like Justin Koonin know raising these issues is important. As co-chair of the NSW LGBTIQ+ Advisory Body, he has been helping develop a strategy to better include minority voices in legislation. Ensuring schools, police, transport officers and health professionals know how to treat the LGBTQI community better is a key focus. "We see the impact of casual homophobia in terms of the reported experience of mental health and wellbeing, and of safety and self-harm in our communities" Dr Koonin says. "You can't control what's in people's heads and you, to some extent, can't control what people can say but you can try and make it clear to people what hurts and what doesn't. "A lot of our work will be on increasing the level of awareness and exposure to the impact casual homophobia has in our communities." Although LGBTQI people need to lobby against casual homophobia, the straight community also has to play its part, Mr McCann says. He considers Wallaby-turned-senator David Pocock a notable voice in the LGBTQI marriage equality debate after declaring he wouldn't tie the knot with his wife until LGBTQI people could. "Pocock is a football star, incredibly handsome, incredibly charming and when he puts that kind of statement out there... that's got a lot more weight than the gay community lobbying for rights," Mr McCann says. NSW, ACT, Victoria, South Australia and Tasmania have government LGBTQI advisory bodies but federal parliament doesn't. Although a health advisory has been established in Canberra, Dr Koonin says having a committee similar to NSW would benefit the community. *Lea is an anonymous name. Lifeline 13 11 14 Fullstop Australia 1800 385 578 Witnessing acts of casual homophobia usually involved Lea* turning away as a means of hiding from her own feelings. When initially navigating the LGBTQI world and figuring out her own sexuality, she worried about what would happen if she chose to come out. "When I was an anxious teenager still coming to terms with myself, I saw how people treated the only out lesbian at my all-girls school," she tells AAP. "The feelings I had there were fear of rejection, shame and all of that just built into me, and not wanting to come to terms with myself." Regardless of the forum, casual (or in Lea's terms 'acceptable') homophobia is the act of jokingly or subtly victimising LGBTQI people. Instead of directing slurs or physical violence, someone might say "I wish I was gay" or refer to another as "the gay best friend" or even buy someone a gift based on stereotypes of sexual orientation. About three in every hundred Australians identify as LGBTQI, approximately 40 per cent of whom hide their sexuality and/or gender in public spaces, according to the Australian Human Rights Commission. These days, Lea has reached the conclusion that casual homophobia isn't as much her issue as it is the fault of those who practice it. She regards them as immature and in need of a change in thinking. "I just get really disappointed in people who still think there's not the same legitimacy in queer relationships as there are in straight ones," she says. "I'm really disappointed when I have people in my life who still think that being a lesbian means I'm just thinking about tits all the time." LGBTQI individuals endure poorer mental health outcomes than straight people due to a lack of social acceptance, according to Aids Council of NSW co-ordinator Madhuraa Prakash. "LGBTQI people are six times more likely to be diagnosed with depression and two and a half more times more likely to be diagnosed or treated for a mental health condition in general," they say. "It's unfortunate because you want to be able to talk about your life without having to edit yourself. "It weighs on a person to have to do that in your day-to-day life and leads to some bad mental health outcomes." Academic and psychotherapist Pol McCann specialises in microaggression and says although it sometimes stems from ill-intention, it is primarily patronising and performative. At the same time casual homophobia isn't exclusively directed at LGBTQI people either. Mr McCann says he's also heard from straight men who don't align with "typical" feminine or masculine ideas who have been impacted. He spoke with two straight men who were emotional, artistic and bullied by their peers at school. "They were absolutely lovely, smart, engaged guys but you could just tell they still carried the weight of the pain," he says. In the course of his work within the school environment, Mr McCann has spent time with the perpetrators of discrimination too. Some boys would never appreciate the impact they've had on a person's life, as they regard what they've done to be no more than a joke, he says. "The boys who were doing it, were doing it casually and with no malice," he adds. "These guys actually seemed really nice as adults and I don't think they understood how controlling their behaviour was." With June marking Pride Month, LGBTQI advocates like Justin Koonin know raising these issues is important. As co-chair of the NSW LGBTIQ+ Advisory Body, he has been helping develop a strategy to better include minority voices in legislation. Ensuring schools, police, transport officers and health professionals know how to treat the LGBTQI community better is a key focus. "We see the impact of casual homophobia in terms of the reported experience of mental health and wellbeing, and of safety and self-harm in our communities" Dr Koonin says. "You can't control what's in people's heads and you, to some extent, can't control what people can say but you can try and make it clear to people what hurts and what doesn't. "A lot of our work will be on increasing the level of awareness and exposure to the impact casual homophobia has in our communities." Although LGBTQI people need to lobby against casual homophobia, the straight community also has to play its part, Mr McCann says. He considers Wallaby-turned-senator David Pocock a notable voice in the LGBTQI marriage equality debate after declaring he wouldn't tie the knot with his wife until LGBTQI people could. "Pocock is a football star, incredibly handsome, incredibly charming and when he puts that kind of statement out there... that's got a lot more weight than the gay community lobbying for rights," Mr McCann says. NSW, ACT, Victoria, South Australia and Tasmania have government LGBTQI advisory bodies but federal parliament doesn't. Although a health advisory has been established in Canberra, Dr Koonin says having a committee similar to NSW would benefit the community. *Lea is an anonymous name. Lifeline 13 11 14 Fullstop Australia 1800 385 578 Witnessing acts of casual homophobia usually involved Lea* turning away as a means of hiding from her own feelings. When initially navigating the LGBTQI world and figuring out her own sexuality, she worried about what would happen if she chose to come out. "When I was an anxious teenager still coming to terms with myself, I saw how people treated the only out lesbian at my all-girls school," she tells AAP. "The feelings I had there were fear of rejection, shame and all of that just built into me, and not wanting to come to terms with myself." Regardless of the forum, casual (or in Lea's terms 'acceptable') homophobia is the act of jokingly or subtly victimising LGBTQI people. Instead of directing slurs or physical violence, someone might say "I wish I was gay" or refer to another as "the gay best friend" or even buy someone a gift based on stereotypes of sexual orientation. About three in every hundred Australians identify as LGBTQI, approximately 40 per cent of whom hide their sexuality and/or gender in public spaces, according to the Australian Human Rights Commission. These days, Lea has reached the conclusion that casual homophobia isn't as much her issue as it is the fault of those who practice it. She regards them as immature and in need of a change in thinking. "I just get really disappointed in people who still think there's not the same legitimacy in queer relationships as there are in straight ones," she says. "I'm really disappointed when I have people in my life who still think that being a lesbian means I'm just thinking about tits all the time." LGBTQI individuals endure poorer mental health outcomes than straight people due to a lack of social acceptance, according to Aids Council of NSW co-ordinator Madhuraa Prakash. "LGBTQI people are six times more likely to be diagnosed with depression and two and a half more times more likely to be diagnosed or treated for a mental health condition in general," they say. "It's unfortunate because you want to be able to talk about your life without having to edit yourself. "It weighs on a person to have to do that in your day-to-day life and leads to some bad mental health outcomes." Academic and psychotherapist Pol McCann specialises in microaggression and says although it sometimes stems from ill-intention, it is primarily patronising and performative. At the same time casual homophobia isn't exclusively directed at LGBTQI people either. Mr McCann says he's also heard from straight men who don't align with "typical" feminine or masculine ideas who have been impacted. He spoke with two straight men who were emotional, artistic and bullied by their peers at school. "They were absolutely lovely, smart, engaged guys but you could just tell they still carried the weight of the pain," he says. In the course of his work within the school environment, Mr McCann has spent time with the perpetrators of discrimination too. Some boys would never appreciate the impact they've had on a person's life, as they regard what they've done to be no more than a joke, he says. "The boys who were doing it, were doing it casually and with no malice," he adds. "These guys actually seemed really nice as adults and I don't think they understood how controlling their behaviour was." With June marking Pride Month, LGBTQI advocates like Justin Koonin know raising these issues is important. As co-chair of the NSW LGBTIQ+ Advisory Body, he has been helping develop a strategy to better include minority voices in legislation. Ensuring schools, police, transport officers and health professionals know how to treat the LGBTQI community better is a key focus. "We see the impact of casual homophobia in terms of the reported experience of mental health and wellbeing, and of safety and self-harm in our communities" Dr Koonin says. "You can't control what's in people's heads and you, to some extent, can't control what people can say but you can try and make it clear to people what hurts and what doesn't. "A lot of our work will be on increasing the level of awareness and exposure to the impact casual homophobia has in our communities." Although LGBTQI people need to lobby against casual homophobia, the straight community also has to play its part, Mr McCann says. He considers Wallaby-turned-senator David Pocock a notable voice in the LGBTQI marriage equality debate after declaring he wouldn't tie the knot with his wife until LGBTQI people could. "Pocock is a football star, incredibly handsome, incredibly charming and when he puts that kind of statement out there... that's got a lot more weight than the gay community lobbying for rights," Mr McCann says. NSW, ACT, Victoria, South Australia and Tasmania have government LGBTQI advisory bodies but federal parliament doesn't. Although a health advisory has been established in Canberra, Dr Koonin says having a committee similar to NSW would benefit the community. *Lea is an anonymous name. Lifeline 13 11 14 Fullstop Australia 1800 385 578 Witnessing acts of casual homophobia usually involved Lea* turning away as a means of hiding from her own feelings. When initially navigating the LGBTQI world and figuring out her own sexuality, she worried about what would happen if she chose to come out. "When I was an anxious teenager still coming to terms with myself, I saw how people treated the only out lesbian at my all-girls school," she tells AAP. "The feelings I had there were fear of rejection, shame and all of that just built into me, and not wanting to come to terms with myself." Regardless of the forum, casual (or in Lea's terms 'acceptable') homophobia is the act of jokingly or subtly victimising LGBTQI people. Instead of directing slurs or physical violence, someone might say "I wish I was gay" or refer to another as "the gay best friend" or even buy someone a gift based on stereotypes of sexual orientation. About three in every hundred Australians identify as LGBTQI, approximately 40 per cent of whom hide their sexuality and/or gender in public spaces, according to the Australian Human Rights Commission. These days, Lea has reached the conclusion that casual homophobia isn't as much her issue as it is the fault of those who practice it. She regards them as immature and in need of a change in thinking. "I just get really disappointed in people who still think there's not the same legitimacy in queer relationships as there are in straight ones," she says. "I'm really disappointed when I have people in my life who still think that being a lesbian means I'm just thinking about tits all the time." LGBTQI individuals endure poorer mental health outcomes than straight people due to a lack of social acceptance, according to Aids Council of NSW co-ordinator Madhuraa Prakash. "LGBTQI people are six times more likely to be diagnosed with depression and two and a half more times more likely to be diagnosed or treated for a mental health condition in general," they say. "It's unfortunate because you want to be able to talk about your life without having to edit yourself. "It weighs on a person to have to do that in your day-to-day life and leads to some bad mental health outcomes." Academic and psychotherapist Pol McCann specialises in microaggression and says although it sometimes stems from ill-intention, it is primarily patronising and performative. At the same time casual homophobia isn't exclusively directed at LGBTQI people either. Mr McCann says he's also heard from straight men who don't align with "typical" feminine or masculine ideas who have been impacted. He spoke with two straight men who were emotional, artistic and bullied by their peers at school. "They were absolutely lovely, smart, engaged guys but you could just tell they still carried the weight of the pain," he says. In the course of his work within the school environment, Mr McCann has spent time with the perpetrators of discrimination too. Some boys would never appreciate the impact they've had on a person's life, as they regard what they've done to be no more than a joke, he says. "The boys who were doing it, were doing it casually and with no malice," he adds. "These guys actually seemed really nice as adults and I don't think they understood how controlling their behaviour was." With June marking Pride Month, LGBTQI advocates like Justin Koonin know raising these issues is important. As co-chair of the NSW LGBTIQ+ Advisory Body, he has been helping develop a strategy to better include minority voices in legislation. Ensuring schools, police, transport officers and health professionals know how to treat the LGBTQI community better is a key focus. "We see the impact of casual homophobia in terms of the reported experience of mental health and wellbeing, and of safety and self-harm in our communities" Dr Koonin says. "You can't control what's in people's heads and you, to some extent, can't control what people can say but you can try and make it clear to people what hurts and what doesn't. "A lot of our work will be on increasing the level of awareness and exposure to the impact casual homophobia has in our communities." Although LGBTQI people need to lobby against casual homophobia, the straight community also has to play its part, Mr McCann says. He considers Wallaby-turned-senator David Pocock a notable voice in the LGBTQI marriage equality debate after declaring he wouldn't tie the knot with his wife until LGBTQI people could. "Pocock is a football star, incredibly handsome, incredibly charming and when he puts that kind of statement out there... that's got a lot more weight than the gay community lobbying for rights," Mr McCann says. NSW, ACT, Victoria, South Australia and Tasmania have government LGBTQI advisory bodies but federal parliament doesn't. Although a health advisory has been established in Canberra, Dr Koonin says having a committee similar to NSW would benefit the community. *Lea is an anonymous name. Lifeline 13 11 14 Fullstop Australia 1800 385 578
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Wendy's cancer might be incurable, but she just wants to help future patients
Your web browser is no longer supported. To improve your experience update it here When Wendy Clift went for a routine breast scan in 2007, she got call from her doctors almost immediately. "The news wasn't good," the widowed grandmother of two from Scone in regional NSW told Wendy Clift was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2007. (Supplied) Just days later, she had a mastectomy, followed by more treatment. While it was successful in keeping her in remission for a few years, the cancer has now returned and it has spread. However, Clift, now 72, was invited to be part of a new Australian drug trial. It's hoped it could help patients with a certain kind of breast cancer live longer. The DIAmOND clinical trial showed adding dual immunotherapy to existing treatments could be promising for some patients with advanced HER2-positive breast cancer. Clift said her cancer appears to be "pretty stable" after the trial earlier this year, which she did at Lake Macquarie Private Hospital. Some of the cancerous lumps she had have even disappeared, though she doesn't know if that's due to the new drug combination. Clift said she didn't have side effects. She said taking part in the trial was less about her and more to help future patients. "I'm just prepared because whatever happens to me is neither here nor there, but hopefully in years to come it'll help somebody else," she said. Immunotherapy is a treatment that uses a person's immune system to treat certain cancers. Wendy Clift, pictured with son Joshua and grandchildren Florence and Arthur, says she just wants to help future cancer patients. (Supplied) The other drug used alongside this in the trial was trastuzumab, commonly known as Herceptin. The trial aimed to see if combining the two could prolong the amount of time cancer was under control in patients with advanced disease which had become resistant to trastuzumab. Results differed depending on the kind of cancer each of the 68 trial patients had. Some had a response rate of up to 63 per cent, while for other kinds it was 27 per cent. Some patients saw their cancer controlled for more than two years. The combination of drugs has been given previously to people with lung cancer. Professor Sherene Loi developed and led the trial, which was conducted by the research organisation Breast Cancer Trials. "These promising results suggest combining new immunotherapy treatments with trastuzumab may offer a new treatment option for patients with treatment-resistant HER2-positive breast cancer," Loi said. "These findings provide a compelling case for further exploration and how we can best integrate this treatment combination into clinical practice." HER2-positive breast cancer is a type of breast cancer that tests positive for a protein called human epidermal growth factor receptor 2 (HER2). However, it often responds well to specific treatments. Around 15-20 per cent of all types of breast cancers are HER2-positive. It is more common in younger, pre-menopausal women. cancer health drugs Australia medical national New South Wales CONTACT US Auto news:Is this the next Subaru WRX? Mysterious performance car teased.
