This year we mark 132 years since women in Aotearoa won the right to vote. We were the first country in the world where women could cast a ballot. Our foremothers like Kate Sheppard and Mere Mangakāhia lobbied so that women’s voices would count in public life. They fought for more than just the right to put a tick on a ballot paper. They fought for women to be part of shaping the future. But in 2025, women are still fighting for the right to be heard in the spaces where decisions about our lives are made. The ballot was only the beginning.

Recently at the mayoral candidate meetings in Thames and Whitianga, the rooms were filled with women. We asked sharp questions about our community’s future. We were the majority in the audience. On stage were five white male candidates, what someone referred to as the “same old guard,” and one woman, Denise Messiter (Nin).

What played out was revolting to watch. The old guard showed us why local government remains dominated by men and why women continue to be pushed aside. Their behaviour towards Denise was lateral violence in plain sight. Side digs. Mutters under the breath. Smirks and eyerolls. Attempts to belittle her kōrero. They even repeated her work as if it were their own.

This is not leadership. It is men protecting their power by undermining the only woman in the race. What makes it worse is the double standard. When men behave like this, it is brushed off as politics. If a woman dared to do the same, it would be treated as if the sky was falling in.

Our daughters and our mokopuna are watching. They see the digs, the mutters, the eyerolls, and they are left to wonder if leadership really belongs only to the “old guard.” The danger is not just that they lose faith in politics, but that they learn silence is safer than speaking, a lesson too many women already know.

The men on stage like to claim that “council business” is separate from politics, that representation and equity are not part of their job. But when women are almost absent from decision-making tables, that is political. When Māori women are silenced while councils claim to represent us all, that is political. Councils cannot pretend to serve the community while continuing to shut women out.

Women in Hauraki know this too well. We stay quieter in public forums, not because we have nothing to say, but because the response from men is more exhausting. And for some of us it follows us home. But quiet does not mean absent. We are here. We are watching. We are talking to each other. And we are not going away.

As we celebrate Women and the Vote this year, we need to face the truth: having the vote is not the same as having power. Our foremothers fought for the ballot, but the struggle for representation is still unfinished. If we do not name the behaviour that pushes women to the margins, it becomes normal. And when it becomes normal, our councils and communities lose the wisdom, strength, and leadership of half the population.

The question in this election is not just who becomes mayor. It is what kind of politics our daughters and mokopuna will inherit. Will they see a council still ruled by white men who mock women into silence, or will they see that when one woman walks through the door, others follow?

This Is Our Moment!

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