I don’t usually share stories this personal.

But listening to the Free to Speak podcast [above] this week, where Kellie-Jay Keen (Posie Parker) discussed the events at Albert Park three years ago, I’ve been reflecting on how that day changed me, changed how I viewed New Zealand, and, ultimately, changed my direction in life.

I had lived away from New Zealand for twenty years. When I returned in late 2020, I felt as if dissent or discussing differing viewpoints had become somehow dangerous, and the range of things you were allowed to say in polite company had narrowed dramatically.

I was concerned about the growing encroachment on women’s rights. Women were being silenced, shut down, and shouted over just for wanting to speak.

They were called bigots, transphobes, nazis and fascists.
Groups like Speak Up for Women were banned from holding meetings at public venues. I believed then, as I believe now, that all people deserve dignity, safety, security, and autonomy — but there seemed to be no space left in New Zealand where people could calmly discuss whether rights might conflict and how to navigate that respectfully, without it descending into name-calling and abuse.
When I heard about the Let Women Speak gathering at Albert Park, I decided to go.

I was nervous, and I thought it was ridiculous that I was nervous. I am a 6 foot tall, middle-aged Pasifika woman who has lived in places with real unrest, violence and disparity. Why did I need courage to attend a public gathering in broad daylight in central Auckland?‘

It’s Just A Park’
“It’s just a park,” I told myself. “It’s a Saturday morning in New Zealand.”
I expected protesters. I am a great believer in the right to protest and counter-protest. I expected noise, placards, disagreement. That is democracy – often messy and passionate.
What I found was something else entirely.

The conversation between Dane and Kellie-Jay that prompted my reflections. 

Around 40 to 50 people, mostly middle-aged or elderly women, had gathered at the rotunda. They were surrounded by roughly 2,000 counter-protesters.
The noise was deafening.
The aggression was visceral, and then it got physical.
Posie Parker was doused in tomato soup.
Metal barricades were knocked down as the mob closed in.
A 71-year-old woman was punched repeatedly in the head by a young man.
Several women made emergency calls to police requesting help.

I was shocked, disturbed and, quite frankly, I was frightened.
I linked hands with three others, forming a chain, heads down, pushing our way through the crowd. That is how we left Albert Park. Pushing through a mob, scared for our safety, all because we wanted to hear other women speak.

Kellie-Jay takes a selfie after being attacked.

What I Saw vs What Was Reported

I went home shaken and turned on the news. The media described it as “joyful, life-affirming and full of love.” A peaceful counter-protest. I sat in my living room and could not reconcile what I was hearing with what I had just lived through. The fear, the violence, the deliberate silencing of women who had every right to be there — entirely absent from the coverage.

What I had seen with my own eyes and what was being reported were two completely different events.

To this day, I regard Albert Park as a shameful episode in New Zealand’s history, in which thousands of people and the media reveled in the deliberate and violent silencing of women.

The Independent Police Conduct Authority has since confirmed what those of us who were there already knew. Their February 2025 report found police risk assessments were inadequate, resourcing was insufficient, and the response did not have sufficient regard to public safety. Just 33 officers for over 2,000 counter-protesters.

I Could No Longer Be A Bystander 

The very next day, I went to a Free Speech Union screening of Last Words, a documentary featuring free speech scholar Jacob Mchangama.

I did not know anyone there. I just needed to find people who could help me understand what had happened, and how our country had drifted so far from the open, tolerant society I thought I had come home to.

Later that year, I flew to Christchurch for the Free Speech Union’s AGM. I met people who shared my conviction that free expression is not a luxury – it is the foundation of a functioning democracy. I was invited onto the advisory board. And the rest, as they say, is history.

I am now the CEO of the Free Speech Union. I did not plan this. Three years ago I was a bystander in a park, frightened and shaken. But Albert Park would not let me go.

In three years, we have taken cases to the High Court, filed submissions on every major piece of legislation affecting expression, lobbied successfully for legislative change, brought world-class speakers to New Zealand, and built a network of thousands who refuse to be silent.

Now we want to go further.

Next, We’re Building Something Bigger
Defending free speech is not just about legal cases and submissions. It is about people. It is about community. When whole topics become unsayable, society does not become more harmonious. It fractures.

In the coming months, we are relaunching our membership offerings with exactly this in mind — building a real community around the Free Speech Union.

Not just a mailing list, but a living network.

More community events. Peer-to-peer support for people facing pressure at work or in their community for holding unpopular views. Local gatherings, speaker events, and spaces where honest disagreement is not just tolerated but welcomed.

If you are reading this, you probably had your own Albert Park moment [we did at Julian Batchelor’s event in Lindale that same year, see this post —Eds].

The point where you realised something had shifted and someone needed to stand up.

We are building something bigger now.
A community that does not just defend the right to speak, but exercises it – together.
We would love you to continue to be part of it.

Thank you for standing with me on this journey.