The suburban Brisbane bowls club erupted in a thunderous roar that I felt through the wheels of my chair. Surrounded by a sea of red-shirted volunteers, I couldn't see the television mounted on the wall, but I didn't need to. The collective jubilation told the story: Ali France, a woman with a disability, had just defeated Peter Dutton, the Leader of the Opposition, in the seat of Dickson.
In that moment, as tears streamed down my face, I understood viscerally what political scientists have studied for decades: representation isn't merely symbolic – it wields transformative power.
Image source: AAP.
Rewriting the narrative
Until this election, our Federal Parliament had operated without a single woman with a visible disability. The absence spoke volumes about who belonged in the halls of power and who did not. With every passing election, the message to disabled girls across Australia remained the same: politics isn't for people like you.
Until now.
I had campaigned for Ali knowing that her victory would rewrite this narrative. But it wasn't until I witnessed the raw emotion in that room – the unbridled joy, the profound relief, the sense of collective possibility – that I fully grasped what representation truly means. It's not just about having someone who looks like you in office; it's about expanding the very definition of who gets to lead.
Viewing disability as a valuable perspective
When we relegate entire communities to the margins of political participation, we don't just limit their opportunities – we impoverish our democracy. Every perspective that's missing from the conversation means policies shaped without crucial lived experience, debates conducted without essential voices, and solutions designed without key insights.
This truth became evident as I door-knocked throughout the Dickson electorate. Voters didn't view Ali's disability as a liability to overlook but rather as a valuable perspective to embrace – or to be frank, not a factor to consider at all.
These conversations revealed the hidden power of representation: it transforms not just how marginalised communities see themselves, but how everyone sees them.
When a disabled woman successfully campaigns for Parliament, disability shifts from being viewed as a deficit to being recognised as a source of unique insight and strength.
What Ali achieved transcends partisan politics. Her victory doesn't just add numerical diversity to Parliament; it fundamentally challenges who we imagine our leaders to be. It expands our collective imagination about what leadership looks like and who possesses the qualities to govern effectively.
Image source: Facebook.
So here’s to the people that made it happen.
Of course, Ali, who fought three elections despite being repeatedly told she couldn't win. Through relentless determination and an unyielding desire to serve, she has rewritten what's possible for disabled women in Australian politics. The trail she has blazed isn't just about access to a building in Canberra – it's about access to political power itself.
And to the voters of Dickson: your willingness to assess candidates on their vision rather than their visible differences demonstrates the best of our democratic values.
“I love her robot leg”
And here’s to the smallest interaction during the campaign that I will never forget.
On election day, I was handing out how-to-vote cards at a local school when a little girl came bounding toward me, her face alight with excitement.
"Ali!" she screamed, reaching for the paper in my hand.
As I gave her the card, her mother smiled and asked, "Who are you voting for today, Millie?"
Without hesitation, the three-and-a-half-year-old repeated, "Ali!"
"Why?" her mother prompted.
Millie's expression suddenly turned serious, her small face contemplative as she delivered her answer with complete conviction: "I love her robot leg."
Image source: Facebook.
In that moment, I witnessed the purest demonstration of representation's power. This child, barely able to form full sentences, saw Ali's prosthetic leg not as something to pity or ignore, but as something to admire – something that made Ali important and worthy of her vote.
This is the revolutionary power of representation: it reshapes how the next generation understands difference. When children see diverse leaders in positions of power, they grow up in a world where such diversity isn't exceptional – it's expected.
Breaking ground
As Ali takes her seat in Parliament, breaking ground that should have been broken decades ago, I hope more Australian children will grow up wanting their representatives to have "robot legs" too. Because when the halls of power reflect the full spectrum of human experience, we all benefit from the wisdom that diversity brings.
The power is in representation. And as Ali France has shown us, that power can change everything.
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Elly Desmarchelier
Elly Desmarchelier is a disability rights campaigner.