‘We are not in a safe place’: women reveal being abused while producing the food Australians eat
- Written by: Weekend Times
I just worked two weeks in a farm in New South Wales and one of my friends stayed with my kids at home. With rent, sometimes I pay on time. Sometimes
I call the landlord and say I will pay in two weeks. I really need my work rights or a different visa that will allow me to study. No work rights – it’s hard.
Grace* came to Australia to work on a berry farm. She planned to send her earnings back home but once she arrived at the farm, she realised she would only earn $100 per week and would live in a shipping container. She decided to leave and work on a different farm, even though this meant her visa would be cancelled.
Five years later, Grace has a temporary visa without work rights, limited access to financial support or health care and has experienced domestic violence.
People like Grace, migrants who enter Australia through the Pacific Australia Labour Mobility (PALM) scheme, produce much of the fresh food Australians buy from the supermarket.
Our ongoing research speaks to women in the scheme, as well as those who stay behind in their home countries while their partners come to Australia. Their experiences reveal the need for urgent reforms to end exploitation and abuse.
Tied to their bosses
The PALM scheme is a temporary labour migration program run by the Australian government that allows people from Pacific Island countries and Timor-Leste to work in under-resourced industries, such as agriculture and meat works.
There are more than 32,000 migrant workers currently in Australia linked to the scheme.
Under the scheme, migrant workers are tied to their employer, meaning their legal right to stay in the country depends on whether their boss is happy with them.
This serious power imbalance can undermine the safety and wellbeing of migrants.
There’s been reporting that migrant workers employed in food systems are systematically exploited, but they often don’t feel safe to report mistreatment.
While migrant men and women linked to the scheme face exploitation, women also experience serious violations of their sexual and reproductive rights.
Given a body of research showing temporary labour migration in the Asia Pacific exposes women to gendered harms, we wanted to find out how can we make it safer.
We interviewed three groups of people:
migrant women in Australia
women in Timor-Leste who stayed behind while their partners came to Australia
and people from health, social, legal and migration services and government departments.
Abuse, assault and exploitation
When things went well, we heard how the PALM scheme supported women and families to build new homes, buy land, develop small businesses and send children to school.
When women were safe, the scheme provided exciting opportunities and agency. One woman told us:
I’m happy here. I make money. I’m independent. I do whatever I want.
But despite the benefits, we quickly learnt Grace’s story was not unique. Migrant women told us about exploitation, sexual assault and sexual coercion at work from employers, supervisors and colleagues. One noted:
in some places, it kills us. We need money but we are not in a safe place for women.
Alongside experiencing exploitation and sexual violence, some women also faced domestic and family violence but didn’t report it to support services. A woman told us:
he punched my nose until it started bleeding. The second time was at his house while I was pregnant.
Women who had run away from their employers were most at risk of domestic and family violence because of their irregular visa status and lack of work rights.
Some became financially dependent on partners who used violence. Without any income or access to social services, women faced homelessness when they tried to leave. A healthcare worker told us:
one woman last year, she thought she was pregnant. She was trying to leave an abusive relationship and the only thing they could offer her at the time was a tent.
A lawyer explained how migrant women’s visa conditions further affected their safety:
the temporary nature of their visa and that desperation that comes with it to not go back, women might get into relationships that they otherwise wouldn’t have.
Those left behind
In Timor-Leste, money sent home from migrant workers is the second leading contributor to the country’s gross domestic product.
But women we spoke with shared stories of economic abandonment from husbands who had gone to Australia and then disappeared. One woman said:
it’s been almost a year, he hasn’t sent money. He says that he misses his children, things like that. But he doesn’t send any money.
This affected their children. Another woman told us:
my daughter can’t sleep well. Sometimes she has a tantrum in the sense that it’s not a normal tantrum. Sometimes she’ll pee on the bed.
Economic abandonment also impacted women’s own mental health. They felt isolated with increased pressure to care for young children and other family members.
Other women said while their husbands were in Australia as PALM scheme workers they became more controlling. This was despite being geographically separated.
Women described being controlled and monitored by husbands in Australia through WhatsApp and constant video calls. A woman said:
he knows when I go to work, when I come back from work. He doesn’t give me permission to go out with my friends at all. He just really limited everything.
Urgent changes
The PALM scheme needs to be reformed to safeguard women and families who participate.
We recommend three immediate changes:
workers must be able to freely change employers
workers must have access to free health and social services
culturally responsive programs and services need to be developed to minimise safety risks for women. These include designing confidential reporting mechanisms specifically for women and providing a safety net payment for women in the scheme affected by gender-based violence.
With these changes, women may be able to experience all the benefits promised by labour migration without fearing for their safety and wellbeing.
*All participants are referred to by chosen pseudonyms.
Gemma Tarpey-Brown receives funding for this research from the Australian government's Research Training Program.
Cathy Vaughan, Karen Block, and Laurentina mica Barreto Soares do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
