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As a GP, if I could put one thing in the water supply, it wouldn’t be a drug. It would be two strength sessions a week.

I realise how that might sound coming from a doctor; this is not the usual prescription. But the evidence for resistance training has become so strong, and yet it remains the most under-discussed intervention in Australian health. Especially for women, and even more so for women over forty. This is a group who were told, for decades, that lifting weights would make them “bulky”. Instead they were told to stick to the treadmill.

It was back in the Victorian era that is was decided women were delicate things whose bodies would break under real exertion. This became a myth so sticky that women weren’t allowed to run the Olympic marathon until 1984 - when Kathrine Switzer ran Boston in 1967, an official tried to physically drag her off the course.

Overtime, strength and sweat become synonymous with men. Meanwhile, women were pushed toward an industry built around shrinking: aerobics, “toning”, “long lean lines”, the promise to “lengthen” rather than build. Every decade repackaged the same ideals: heroin chic, the bikini body, the thigh gap, the Ozempic face.

Lifting heavy didn’t fit the assignment, because muscle is the one thing that makes a body take up more space, not less. Women were warned that they’d “get bulky”, enforcing a narrative that ignores biology. Women have a fraction of the testosterone that builds large male muscle, which mean accidentally getting “too big” is very hard to do. In reality, “bulky” was just code for unfeminine: too strong, too visible, too far outside the brief. It kept women on the treadmill chasing smallness, and away from the barbell.

That messaging has cost us, not just culturally, but in bodies. Australia’s own physical activity guidelines tell us adults should be doing muscle-strengthening activities. This includes things like weights, squats, push-ups and resistance bands, at least two days a week. The vast majority (73%) of Australian adults aged 18 to 64 don’t meet that standard. Of those who fall short, 91 per cent do no strength training at all. Women do worse than men on activity measures across the board, and it deteriorates with age, with 84 per cent of over-65s missing the strength guideline. And yet, the older you are, the more strength training has to offer you.

A 2022 meta-analysis in the British Journal of Sports Medicine found muscle-strengthening activity was associated with a 10 to 17 per cent lower risk of all-cause mortality, cardiovascular disease, cancer and diabetes, with the maximum benefit at just 30 to 60 minutes per week. These results were independent of cardio, and improved when they were combined with it. If a tablet did that, it would be the most prescribed medicine in the country.

For women, it is our skeletons that stand to lose the most from the anti-bulking narrative. After menopause, our bodies began to produce less oestrogen - the hormone responsible for maintaining bone strength. This is when women experience their most rapid bone loss. Around 1.2 million Australians have osteoporosis and another 6.3 million have low bone density. Two-thirds of over-50s are affected by at least one of these conditions, and each year, they are the cause of more than 183,000 broken bones. It’s called the silent disease because the first symptom is usually the fracture. And a hip fracture in your seventies is not just an inconvenience, it’s frequently the event that ends independent living.

We know that bone responds to being loaded just like muscle, and the landmark evidence is Australian. The LIFTMOR trial at Griffith University put postmenopausal women with low bone density, average age 65, through eight months of genuinely heavy supervised lifting - deadlifts, squats and overhead presses above 85 per cent of their maximum, so lifting heavy weights. Their lumbar spine bone density improved while the control group’s declined. That protocol now runs nationally as the ONERO program, endorsed by Healthy Bones Australia. It is ideally supervised, because technique matters, and lifting “heavy” is best done gradually.

We also know that strength training is one of the better non-drug interventions we have for mood. It preserves the muscle mass that quietly leaks away from midlife (the fall you don’t have at 80 is won in the gym at 50), and it also changes what a woman believes her body is for. I’ve watched patients who spent forty years treating their bodies as decorative objects discover, at 55, that they are, and their body is a machines that is powerful. Deadlifting your bodyweight is a remarkably effective treatment for a lifetime of being told to take up less space.

There’s one more group I need to talk to directly, because it’s the fastest-growing conversation in my consulting room: anyone on a GLP-1 weight-loss medications like Ozempic, Wegovy, and Mounjaro. These drugs work, and I prescribe them. But here’s what the “before and after” photos don’t tell you: a substantial chunk of the weight you lose on them isn’t fat, but muscle. A meta-analysis of twenty trials found that lean mass made up 25 to 39 per cent of the total weight lost on these medications. A 2024 review from the University of Western Australia put it bluntly: muscle loss on the order of 10 per cent, or around six kilograms, “comparable to a decade or more of aging”, compressed into months.

And it isn’t only muscle, it’s bone, which is where this collides head-on with everything I’ve said about fractures. The clearest evidence comes from a 2024 Danish randomised trial. Researchers took nearly 200 adults who’d lost weight and put them into a year of one of four things: exercise alone, the GLP-1 drug liraglutide alone, both combined, or placebo. The result showed that GLP-1 on its own reduced bone density at the hip and spine significantly, while the group that combined exercise with the drug preserved their bone and lost the most weight of anyone in the study. The medication alone quietly thinned bone at exactly the sites that shatter in later life. Exercise was what protected it.

The fix is not to avoid the medication, it’s to lift while you’re on it. The same UWA review found supervised resistance training can add roughly three kilograms of lean mass and around 25 per cent more strength even during weight loss. The drug strips the weight; lifting decides how much of what’s left is muscle, metabolism, bone, and strength, helping you to avoid collateral damage you’ll pay for in your seventies. If you’re on a GLP-1 and nobody has mentioned resistance training and protein to you, that’s a gap in your care worth raising at your very next appointment.

The practical take away I want to leave you with is to add two sessions a week into your routine. Start anywhere - bodyweight squats off a chair, resistance bands, the community gym. Your muscles will ache pleasantly, and your body will adapt. You don’t need to be an athlete. You need to be a woman in her fifties who intends to get off the toilet unassisted in her nineties. That is the actual prize. Go pick up something heavy.

About the author

Dr Rebekah Hoffman is a Sydney GP, practice owner, researcher and Chair of the RACGP NSW and ACT Faculty. She works across clinical practice, research and health advocacy, with a particular interest in preventive health, women’s health, healthcare access and translating complex medical evidence into practical, everyday advice. The views expressed are her own and do not necessarily reflect those of the organisations with which she is affiliated.

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Cereese Qusba’s investigative journalism for her student newspaper, the Cornell Daily Sun, exposed the truth about an alleged gang rape perpetrated by seven wealthy men. A case that Cornell University had labelled as merely an ‘incident’.

It was Qusba who reached out to Jane Doe to gather information. It was Qusba who gathered all the ways Cornell had failed Doe. It was Qusba who published the names of all seven fraternity brothers whom Doe has accused of drugging and raping her. Her reporting turned the story into global news.

That is the power of student journalism. And here in Australia too, it has been a critical tool in what former editor of the University of Sydney’s (USYD) student newspaper Honi Soit, Luke Mešterović, said is “speaking truth to power when no one else will.”

Student journalism in Australia

As editor of Honi Soit, Mešterović told Cheek that Honi Soit’s independence, accessibility and reach allowed people to trust the newspaper with their stories.

“The fact that we didn’t need to raise revenue gave us the freedom to report on what mattered, and a responsibility to cover issues that the mainstream media wouldn’t.”

And the evidence backs this up.

In 2024, Honi Soit broke the story of a severe hazing and mock trial incident at St Paul’s College, which led to multiple student expulsions and suspensions.

It was the University of New South Wales’ (UNSW) paper, Tharunka, that published anonymous accounts and investigative details exposing sexual assault and harassment inside UNSW residential colleges.

It was the University of Melbourne’s (UoM) student paper, Farrago, that covered a registered sex offender within the university community, after UoM failed to comment; its editors, Ruby Weir-Alarcon, Felicity Bayne, Maria Quartel and Sabine Pentecost, told Cheek.

Career risk and Censorship

Entering the realm of student journalism, Mešterović told Cheek that journalists face risk from “their universities’ highly sophisticated PR teams,” which may see threats of defamation and potential implications for the future careers of these young journalists who are just getting started.

“It can be a lot of pressure for someone in their late teens or early twenties, who’s still figuring out their place in the world”, Mešterović said.

And even when students are bold enough to publish the stories that could threaten their future careers, universities have the power to censor them. Stories about Palestine have seen papers across several universities become the subject of mainstream media backlash, and it is not unheard of for such controversy to result in disciplinary action or administrative scrutiny. Palestine is far from the only hot-button issue - in 2017, Macquarie University censored a one-page article in its student newspaper Grapeshot about sexual assault and harassment on campus.

Wealth decides who gets to tell these stories

Alongside the career risks are, of course, the financial barriers to entry, which have become increasingly difficult since 2004, when the Howard government introduced voluntary student unionism (VSU). Under VSU, students were no longer required to join the student union or pay a fee for student services, such as student-run newspapers and radio stations on campus. Soon after the introduction of the VSU, Flinders’ student-run paper, The Empire Times, which began in 1967, ended, and two years later, Flinders University Student Radio ceased to exist.

Now, most established student newspapers operate under the financial umbrella of their university’s student representative bodies, sustained by the Student Services and Amenities Fee. However, the amount allocated to student newspapers is subject to ongoing university compliance and conduct reviews. Last month, USYD’s Vice-Chancellor Mark Scott began an independent review of this funding after controversy over students using the phrase “Globalise the Intifada” in their student elections.

And in my search, several universities did not have a university newspaper or had seen their paper temporarily suspended or shut down.

For example, a former editor of Vertigo told Cheek that their paper had been suspended due to management and allegations that an editor was using AI.

“The chronic lack of funding prioritises students who can afford to spend hours every week doing unpaid work”, and ultimately makes participating in student journalism a “privilege”, said Mešterović.

Mešterović also noted that the “universities with the most well-funded student outlets are also the most elite”, limiting opportunities for those who attend a regional university or a university with “less prestige”, and limiting these students’ ability to hold their universities to account.

USYD, Melbourne University’s paper, Farrago, and the Australian National University pay their editors, whereas Adelaide University’s On The Record still does not.

Vertigo’s former editor, a paper that did not receive as much funding as the above, told Cheek the pay they received paled in comparison to the time they had to put in.

Student-run newspapers also need independence to hold their institution accountable. Farrago editors told Cheek that while grateful to receive funding from the Union, it puts them at the “mercy of our institutions. Our most significant challenge is maintaining independence for our student voices, a challenge we must continue to fight.”

More needs to be done

The breaking of the Cornell 7’s horror by student journalists is a good reminder that student journalism is not a side hustle or a passion project, but a means of accountability - something increasingly important as our tertiary education institutions become more corporatised.

It’s a call to bring back mandatory payments to our student union, accountability for our universities, and journalism that truly makes an impact.

About the author

​Varsha Yajman is the Digital Content Producer at Cheek Media. She is a youth advocate and lawyer with a background in climate litigation and is passionate about looking at the intersection between race, climate justice, and mental health.

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This week, the Prime Minister is in the Pacific for pre-COP, the climate talks that Australia is co-hosting with Fiji and Tuvalu ahead of COP31, where Australia is running global negotiations. Albanese’s Government has been carrying on about how they’re finally listening to the Pacific, and now those words are being put to the test.

The stakes could not be higher. Albo’s got a climate bomb sitting on his desk waiting for approval, it’s the biggest coal project in the history of NSW. Just days before he boarded his flight, the NSW Independent Planning Commission gave Glencore and Yancoal the green light to keep digging at Hunter Valley Operations (HVO) all the way up until 2045. The final tick of approval now rests with the Albanese Government to decide whether or not Australia unleashes almost a billion tonnes of pollution into an already warming atmosphere. If that final green light is granted, HVO will become the 38th coal and gas project that Labor has approved since Albo was elected Prime Minister.

That’s some heavy baggage he’s had to carry to Fiji.

Albo can’t have it both ways, as much as the NSW Government wants to believe that’s possible. He can’t ask the world to listen to the Pacific while he hangs out in Fiji, and then come home and approve more coal mines and their catastrophic consequences that know no borders.

My colleague Tuifa’asisina Reupena (TJ), is a Samoan Pacific Climate Warrior based in QLD. When I asked him how he felt about this news, he gave it to me straight:

“How can the Albanese Government look our Pasifika communities and young people in the eye, only a month after telling us at PIF (Pacific Islands Forum) that they support us, while turning around and approving one of the biggest climate bombs NSW has ever seen?

The Pacific contributes less than 0.02% in carbon emissions, yet it’s our future on the cutting board right now. We’ve been told that by 2050, vast swathes of land across multiple Pacific countries could be underwater, yet the Albanese Government continues to approve fossil fuel projects all the way to 2045? Make it make sense.”

TJ tells me that when he thinks about the future of the Pacific, in 2045, he thinks about his nieces and nephews. He thinks about what parts of Samoa will still be habitable. Which ancestral lands, villages and sacred places that have held generations of his family will be underwater? Who will lose their livelihoods as the climate changes and seas continue to rise?

All the while, Australia continues to approve new fossil projects that will continue to contribute to the very crisis threatening their future.

Me? I’ll be 45 when (and if) HVO closes. I grew up in Sydney West, Blacktown. In January 2020, the suburb just a few minutes’ drive from me, Penrith, was the hottest place on earth at 48.9 degrees. Say that to yourself out loud.

My family moved to Australia from Botswana when I was 3. When I first learned about climate displacement, I thought of my relatives in Africa watching desertification push people off land they’d always called home. The British colonisers may have left Botswana 60 years ago, but the West’s greed will continue to hurt my ancestral homeland well into the 21st century. As long as HVO is allowed to dig, my generation, and TJ’s nieces and nephews’ generation, will live with the damage caused by that and so many other coal mines. What we export as coal comes back to us in the form of worsening floods, fires, and heatwaves.

Who benefits from keeping the mine open until 2045? It’s certainly not future generations. As far as I can see it’s just Glencore, Yancoal, and the politicians too cowardly to stand up to them.

The 1500 HVO mine workers were told that their worksite would close this December. Glencore and Yancoal had many years to plan for this closure. They are the ones letting workers down this week, no one else. These companies didn’t deliver a transition plan and they held their own workforce to ransom as a bargaining chip with the NSW Government, instead of actually planning for the best interests of working families in the Hunter, these are people who have done nothing wrong.

Both state and federal Labor Governments understand how exposed these workers are. They hear from unions regularly, which is why they should have planned ahead and worked with the community on a just transition plan. Notes from Chris Minns’ meeting with the coal lobby and the mining union (never thought a union and corporate employers would be on the same side, yikes!) were released under Freedom of Information.

The documents reveal that the NSW Government is aware that workers aged 35-49 are at risk of not being retrained, and has flagged concerns of a “One Nation risk”. Surely abandoning the Hunter to the whims of two corporate multinationals is the fastest way to screw over workers and the community? Wouldn’t an actual government-backed transition plan be the best pathway to minimising a far-right electoral threat?

Hunter workers, families in the Pacific and young people all want the same thing: a future we can look forward to with hope, a future we can plan our lives around. Meanwhile, Glencore and Yancoal are only thinking about their shareholders.

With millennials and Gen Z now the biggest voting bloc in the country, we’ll all be watching what Labor does about HVO before the year’s end.

Albo, you could have ruled out a federal approval for HVO before you even set foot in Fiji. You could make sure your NSW counterparts put a real plan for Hunter workers and the community on the table. Don’t be yet another Western hypocritical leader making false promises to the Pacific. Otherwise, this climate bomb will be your legacy.

About the author

Grace Vegesana (she/they) is the National Director of the Australian Youth Climate Coalition, and a 26 year old woman-of-colour who has been building youth power to end fossil fuel expansion since she was 17. Her legacy includes co-founding the People of Colour Climate Network, pioneering climate justice, organising on Dharug Country in Western Sydney with AYCC, and mobilising 3000 Australian businesses to join the Climate Strikes. At the heart of Grace’s work is a fierce belief in a better, brighter, and more climate-resilient world for young people to inherit and thrive in - and a reminder that hope is not just a feeling, but a call to action.

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Imagine being told you cannot publicly say you are innocent.

Not because a court has found new evidence against you. Not because you have breached a carefully considered condition. But because the machinery of the state has decided that you should not speak publicly about your own case.

That is the extraordinary position Susan Neill-Fraser found herself in.

Neill-Fraser was convicted in 2010 of murdering her partner, Bob Chappell, who disappeared from their yacht in Tasmania in 2009. She was paroled in 2022 after spending 13 years behind bars. The case against her was largely circumstantial; investigators found no body or murder weapon, and she has always maintained her innocence.

However, a parole condition restricted her from speaking publicly to the media about her assertion of innocence and alleged wrongful conviction.

When that condition was challenged in the Supreme Court, something even more extraordinary emerged: in seeking to justify the restriction on Neill-Fraser’s public statements, the court heard that the Parole Board of Tasmania had relied on a document prepared by its secretary using artificial intelligence, which contained fictitious legal authorities.

The Supreme Court ultimately ruled the parole condition was invalid on grounds including procedural fairness, legal unreasonableness and uncertainty.

This was not a chatbot getting a restaurant recommendation wrong. It was not an embarrassing typo in a university essay. It was unreliable material entering a public decision-making process with consequences for a real person’s rights.

As Sarah Schwartz of the Human Rights Law Centre told me, the case raises serious questions about the accountability of parole authorities and the restrictions they can impose on people trying to rebuild their lives in the community.

She is right. Parole is not supposed to be an unaccountable extension of imprisonment. Conditions must have a lawful basis and be imposed through a decision-making process that meets basic standards of fairness.

When a public authority restricts someone’s liberty or expression, the question is not simply whether the restriction sounds reasonable. The authority must be legally empowered to impose it, must act according to the requirements of procedural fairness, and must make its decision on a rational and properly informed basis.

That is where AI creates a new problem for an old principle: who is actually making the decision?

Dr Felicity Bell, a legal academic at UNSW, said the problem is not limited to one case or one jurisdiction. AI-generated hallucinations have already appeared in legal proceedings overseas, including instances where fabricated authorities have made their way into court materials and, in some cases, judicial decisions.

More troublingly, Bell describes a phenomenon she calls ‘verification drift’. Under pressure of time and workload, people can gradually become less rigorous about checking AI-generated material. The more often a system appears to produce useful answers, the easier it becomes to assume that the next answer is probably right.

But a legal authority cannot be treated as probably genuine. A case either exists or it does not. A statutory provision either says something or it does not. A precedent cannot be treated as authoritative because an algorithm has produced a convincing citation.

There is also a deeper problem. Judicial review is expensive, complicated and, for many people, inaccessible. Schwartz points out that parole decisions occur largely behind closed doors - unless someone has the resources, legal representation and determination to challenge a decision, an error may never be exposed.

Neill-Fraser was able to challenge the condition. Many people cannot.

That makes the question of AI transparency particularly important. If an automated tool contributes to a decision affecting someone’s liberty, reputation or fundamental freedoms, the affected person should not have to reverse-engineer the decision to discover that an AI system was involved.

The answer is not necessarily to ban AI from legal or government work. Bell points to the obvious benefits: AI can help process large quantities of information, summarise documents and assist with administrative tasks. Under enormous workloads and pressure on legal services, those efficiencies will be attractive. But efficiency is not accuracy, and confidence is not truth.

The answer is human responsibility.

Organisations using AI need clear rules about what systems can be used, what information can safely be entered into them, and which outputs require mandatory verification.

Sensitive personal information cannot simply be fed into unsecured systems; legal authorities must be independently checked. And where AI materially assists a decision affecting a person’s rights, there should be a transparent record of how it was used.

Tasmania’s Department of Justice has announced a review to determine the extent to which AI may have been used to inform past parole decisions and whether it influenced their outcomes. That is an important opportunity to establish whether Neill-Fraser’s case was an isolated failure or evidence of a wider problem.

The lesson is not that machines are evil, nor that governments should reject new technology.

It is that public power cannot be delegated to a machine and then excused when the machine gets something wrong.

An AI system cannot appear in court and explain why it invented a case. It cannot compensate someone for an unlawful restriction, and it cannot restore two years of lost freedom to speak.

Humans must do those things.

If AI is going to be placed anywhere near the wheels of justice, then verification, transparency and accountability must be paramount. Because when AI gets it wrong, the consequences are not artificial - real people pay the price.

About the author

Laura Banks is an award-winning journalist and investigative reporter based in Sydney. She has worked across major Australian newsrooms, including The Sydney Morning Herald and 7News, covering crime, justice, health and public-interest issues. Her investigative reporting has earned recognition from the National Press Club of Australia and multiple Walkley Award nominations. She is known for reporting on complex social issues, government accountability, policing and the experiences of vulnerable communities.

There’s lots happening at Cheek HQ right now, so here are two quick reminders:

1. Cheek Live: State of the Nation kicks off this week! Buy tickets HERE!

2. Our BRAND NEW merch is available on pre-order until midnight tomorrow (Monday 5 October)! Buy now for 10% off <3

Weight loss companies have been targeting our vulnerabilities for decades. But in 2026, their tactics have grown more insidious than ever, writes Cheek’s Varsha Yajman.

Culture Bite is a free weekly column that features Cheek-coded analysis and opinions at the intersection of pop culture and politics. To support more content like this, please consider becoming a paid subscriber!

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Vogue made headlines this week - and not for the right reasons.

Over the weekend, the magazine hosted Vogue World, its annual live-streamed fashion runway show. The event was sponsored by tech, fashion and weight-loss company Eli Lilly, known for Mounjaro or Foundayo, its GLP-1 receptor agonist medications.

Eli Lilly is a US-based pharmaceutical company worth approximately $1.48 trillion, making it one of the world’s largest healthcare companies and, as it is now apparent, a new player in the fashion industry too.

The Vogue partnership does not explicitly mention Mounjaro or Foundayo. However, unhealthy body standards shape the fashion industry - and with representation of diverse body types already declining, the deal raises some obvious concerns.

Currently, plus-size and mid-size representation is at a historic low, accounting for just 0.3 per cent of total presentations across Fall/Winter 2026 collections, per the Vogue Business Report.

The lack of representation affects us every day, with the report revealing that 34 per cent of mid-size and 68 per cent of the plus-size respondents felt alienated by the fashion industry because of their size, compared with just 17 per cent of straight-size respondents.

Writer, content creator and disability advocate Carmen Azzopardi (@zigs_mom) told Cheek she was not surprised by the Vogue World sponsorship deal, but noted that such partnerships between the fashion industry and weight loss drugs are “completely unethical, embarrassing and tired”.

She also spoke to Cheek about how Vogue’s sponsorship had affected her personally.

Azzopardi said the insulin she uses to treat her type 1 diabetes is set to be discontinued by the company, Novo Nordisk, which also sells Ozempic, as they are making more profits from their commercial weight loss drug.

“So from December I won’t be able to access the medication I need to survive”, Azzopardi said, noting the difficulties in finding a new insulin that works with her hormones.

When it comes to what she hopes for the fashion industry, Azzopardi said right now she doesn’t have hope given her experience being impacted by the rise in weight loss drugs and her noticing a decline in plus-size, trans, queer and disabled representation on the runway.

However, Azzopardi does believe the fashion industry has the ability to have representation, citing this year’s Copenhagen Fashion Week as an example of what good representation looks like. She says that she wants to “see more people turning away from the fashion industry from fashion creators from celebrities and looking to their friends and family members and colleagues” as the visibility that they want to see on the runway.

The lived realities of those like Azzopardi tell us that even if you do not care about what happens on the runway, these trends inevitably echo into our own daily lives.

Dr Rebekka Hoffman, a specialist GP and a fellow of the Royal Australian College of General Practice, said the presence of a weight loss brand at a fashion event “where people are perceived to be beautiful because they’re small, thin, or a certain size” can create a presumption that the models are using the medications even when they’re not.

But Eli Lilly is only expanding its involvement in the fashion world - the brand also sponsored last year’s Vogue World and this year’s Met Gala livestream, running an ad featuring actor Patrick Schwarzenegger and the fashion brand Public School.

Beyond the fashion world

Eli Lilly isn’t just intertwined with Hollywood or fashion. They sponsored Oprah Winfrey’s live event tour, where she openly discussed her weight-loss medical treatment without naming specific pharmaceutical brands. And they were at this year’s Hollywood Reporter Producers Dinner, the annual event celebrating top television producers and showrunners. Plus, Eli Lilly is an official partner for the LA28 Olympic and Paralympic Games, Team USA, and broadcast partner NBCUniversal, which includes funding for the Team USA Athlete Recovery Program.

Other companies focused on weight loss have also taken the spotlight by sponsoring major events and using celebrities to boost their brands. One of the most-watched sporting events worldwide, the 2026 Super Bowl, saw tennis star Serena Williams feature in an ad for telehealth platform Ro, posing as if she’s about to inject herself.

Closer to home, Eli Lilly’s Australian brand, Lilly Australia, was the official partner of Vivid Sydney, presenting “Vivid Minds” events focused on healthcare innovations.

Dr Hoffman pointed to Eli Lilly’s sponsorship of a family event like Vivid as a way to target “young parents or people struggling for time and seeing this as a quick fix and easy solution.” This comes at a time when women are increasingly speaking up about the pressure to “bounce back” and lose any weight gained during pregnancy or while caring for children.

This expanding the target market is clearly a priority for the companies, with a recent academic study highlighting how these companies are exploiting health vulnerabilities of minority groups.

The exploitation of vulnerabilities

Among the study’s authors were Simone Sheriff, a Wotjobaluk woman and senior research fellow at the Poche Centre for Indigenous Health at Sydney University, and Jennifer Browne, Associate Professor within the Deakin Centre for Global Preventive Health and Nutrition and the Institute for Health Transformation. Speaking to Cheek, they said their research had found that weight loss drug companies are increasingly engaging with First Nations organisations and communities.

For example, telehealth company Juniper, which provides weight-loss injectables and appears in every YouTube ad, has featured Gumbaynggirr/Dunghutti singer Casey Donovan and Yorta Yorta author and curve model Allira Potter in ads and promotional material.

Speaking to Cheek, Sheriff said the team noticed a pattern of “First Nations women specifically, or people of [colour] more broadly, featuring in the promotion” of these weight loss commercials.

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander adults are 1.5 times as likely to be living with obesity and 2.3 to 3 times more likely than non-Indigenous Australians to experience diabetes and therefore are an easier group to target, says Sheriff.

If these companies genuinely intended to improve the health of these communities, Sheriff noted they could invest in community health promotion programs and lower prices so those who genuinely need the drugs can access them.

However, when the Australian Government entered negotiations with Eli Lilly to put the drug under the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme (PBS) - meaning it would be regulated by the Australian Government to reduce misuse and lower the price - the company walked away because it wasn’t happy with the Government’s affordable price.

These companies would rather profit off vulnerable people; even in sponsoring Vogue events, Azzopardi noted Eli Lilly was ultimately “preying upon a mostly female-dominated audience,” given its predominantly female viewership.

Why are these ads not illegal?

While Australia’s Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA), which evaluates, assesses and monitors medicines, does prohibit the promotion of prescription-only drugs and weight-loss injections, there is a loophole that these companies can exploit.

Browne told Cheek that Eli Lilly can get away with its ads by listing them as disease-awareness campaigns, since they never mention the name of the drug they are promoting.

For example, Juniper’s weight loss ad instead says: “weight loss is really hard. Have you tried everything? Talk to your doctor”.

However, as Browne notes, “The only reason that these companies are becoming household names is that they produce these weight loss medications that are now household names.”

The drug is not about making people smaller - but healthier

Thankfully, the TGA is aware of this loophole and is in conversation with health professionals.

However, Dr Hoffman told Cheek that, due to the TGA’s slow pace, the legislative process, and other matters such as peptides taking priority, conversations are essential. In particular, because these ads are exposed to many people who may have low health literacy and may not be suited to these medications, she says conversations “about what is beautiful, what is healthy, and what these medications are” are needed.

Hoffman noted that these drugs were not created for weight loss. She said that the people she sees every day are those who need the medication, not to make them smaller but to “prevent or reverse” conditions like diabetes, prediabetes, or insulin resistance.

While echoing the sentiment that updated advertising laws are needed to keep up with social media and companies that boast trillions of dollars, Browne also said we need to zoom out. She said that weight loss drugs are a “band-aid solution” to address Australia’s rise in obesity and diabetes when, in reality, it is due to a broken food system - one that sees fresh produce prices rising steeply during a cost of living crisis, making it difficult for people to afford it.

About the author

​Varsha Yajman is the Digital Content Producer at Cheek Media. She is a youth advocate and lawyer with a background in climate litigation and is passionate about looking at the intersection between race, climate justice, and mental health.

The time is flying and I’m not sure how we’re already in the first week of October, but here we are!!

Hannah’s tour has officially started, less than a week after she touched back down in the country (an insane and awe-inspiring woman). Canberra got the first taste of the new show on Thursday night (and the early reviews are very good), and by the time you are reading this, Sydney will have had its turn on Friday night. If you’re in Adelaide, Melbourne, Brisbane, or Newcastle, then you’ve still got time to grab a ticket (sorry Perth, you’re all sold out), you can do that here.

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Over the last week, the world has learned of the horrific event in which seven members of Cornell University’s Chi Phi fraternity allegedly gang-raped an unconscious 20-year-old woman in October 2024. It was the University’s own newspaper that put the story on the global news agenda, after a lawsuit was filed over the institution’s handling of the situation.

The filing alleges that the victim, referred to as Jane Doe, was pressured to take drugs and then assaulted in an upstairs room of the frat house for multiple hours. During the assault, one of these men reportedly circulated the message “free pussy upstairs” in a fraternity group chat. Following a Cornell University investigation, two of the men were expelled, and the remaining five were suspended and asked to write essays. Due to federal privacy law, Cornell is unable to make a public statement on specific disciplinary responses. And now, the victim seeks to sue the school.

To begin with, the punishment in the form of essay writing seems indiscriminately inadequate. Assault is a horrific and traumatic experience. It seeps into one’s sense of safety, self-esteem, and belonging, affecting relationships, body image, and work. There is no accurate measure of the pain that it inflicts, no punishment that can take it away.

The cruel irony should not be lost that the victim is the one who dropped out, whilst five perpetrators were seemingly let off with little more than an articulation of self-reflection with a word count. I do not want to write that her life is ruined; I believe that is reductive. Though sexual assault is a life-altering trauma, and the ensuing court case will likely be long, expensive and tiring, we do not give enough credit to victim survivors by stating she will never recover from this. But still, we must acknowledge that while she leaves a community she undoubtedly worked hard to get into, most of the perpetrators get to stay. Her life is on hold; theirs continues. She goes to therapy and doctor’s appointments; they go to class.

I was sexually assaulted at my residential college a few years ago. It was a horrific period of my life I have tried to move away from. I was hesitant to reopen the wound even in the writing of this piece - however, I have experienced, from the inside, the brokenness of a college reporting system. Across the ocean from Cornell, I have sat in what was likely a similar room, feeling similar emotions, and asking similar questions. I do not wish to speak for her, and our experiences are vastly different, yet we have both dealt with injustice at the hands of institutions meant to protect us as vulnerable teenagers living far from home. My perpetrator was expelled, but I also left college and dropped out of my degree. I was confused and hurt, full of self-loathing and guilt.

The Cornell rape case cannot be isolated to one campus, one frat, and one woman, unique to Ivy League entitlement and brattish American teenagers. The problem sits closer to home than we may like to believe. Australia’s residential colleges have suffered from high rates of sexual violence. They are difficult to describe to anyone who has not lived there. It would be ignorant not to initially note the immense privilege that goes hand in hand with attending these colleges. I am a white, upper-middle-class student from a rural area; I attended a private school. This is the majority demographic.

The release of the Red Zone Report in 2018 placed the Australian colleges at the centre of a firestorm of less-than-favourable media attention, releasing a 200-page indictment of campus culture, depicting environments of hazing, forced binge drinking, and rampant sexism in the form of pro rape Facebook groups and ‘Rackwebs’. It’s a sickening, heartbreaking read. The report also stated college students were 7 times more likely to have been raped than non-college students.

This subsequently brought promises of cultural renewal. Universities committed to the report’s recommendations. Orientation Week, or O Week, rebranded to W Week. I was told things have changed, though we should remain sceptical. During my time, it was made clear hazing was no longer a thing - yet I’m struggling to find another term for sleep deprivation and humiliation rituals. In 2023, a bar fight saw a student have a chunk of their ear bitten off at a Sydney college party. One Instagram post about Cornell stated that if frat houses were not attended by the majority white upper-class demographic, they would be called gangs. The same could be said about Australia’s colleges.

But these institutions also have a duty of care, especially when the victim and perpetrator may live under the same roof. In my case, I eventually returned to university to study law. I believe in due process, the right to a fair trial - innocent until proven guilty. These are foundational. But what happens when these clash with a victim’s right to feel safe in the corridors and stairwells of her home?

Reporting processes are often convoluted and confusing, as much a deterrent as our inadequate criminal justice system. The Red Zone Report also found only 1 in 72 affected students had made a formal sexual assault report to their university , with many unsure of how to do so or where to seek support. You cannot recover from immense trauma whilst seeing your perpetrator in the dining hall at breakfast, but no 18-year-old wants to undergo an intensive reporting system where justice is delivered in expulsion at best, essay writing at worst.

The legal system also fails to provide relief. In NSW, 7 per cent of all sexual assault reports secured a guilty conviction, whilst it remains the most underreported crime. How justice can be administered effectively here is unclear, and whether punitive measures of punishment succeed is another question entirely. We have correctly identified sexual violence as a cultural issue. But how do you change a culture?

Of course, it should be on men to call out their friends, to call out the root cause of disrespectful comments, looks, interactions, usually dressed up in humour or “it’s not that serious”. It should also be on men to advocate more, instead of instant deferral to lived experience where we face defamation threats, trolling and abuse each time we speak up. But it is also likely that Cheek Media’s readership is already aware of such statistics and problems.

There has been some excellent development with consent education largely thanks to Chanel Contos and Teach Us Consent. How do we reach the men who see these issues as below them, unnecessary, a testimony of one unfortunate story against a sea of positive experiences at college? The situation at Cornell could have been very different if just one man (out of 57 potential men in the group chat) intervened. None did. None even voiced concern. It’s not all men, sure - but in this case it was. I am guessing all these men had sat through consent education modules and had at least an intellectual understanding of rape. So what went wrong?

What happened to me, and what happened at Cornell, stems from the same environment. It happens in the broader community as well, of course, and cannot be written off solely as a college problem. However, these institutions allow for male entitlement and dominance to operate at full speed - not only fostered, but rewarded with mateship and camaraderie. It is a product of a culture that dictates sex as a given, that saw the formation of a boys-only touch footy group for the purpose of exchanging hook-up stories (I could hear cheering from my window, some 200 metres away). Women are reduced to sexual value - our worth articulated in a singular, degrading text in a group chat. A punchline to gain louder applause at touch.

I am not suggesting we abolish colleges and frats, or pick up pitchforks and burn the institutions to the ground, but that we imagine an alternative culture. What this looks like, I don’t know. But it starts with an examination of hazing that likely occurs under a new name, but perpetuates the same power structures and sexism. Uncomfortable conversations about reporting methods, about implementing the ones that are trauma-informed, that do not deter victim survivors, that are likely not modelled off the criminal justice system. We need honest introspection about how certain events, rituals, and traditions still perpetuate rape culture. Let us start here, see what can be dismantled, and what can be built in its place.

It ends with 18-year-old Jane Doe arriving at Cornell University campus. She has four years of education ahead of her, where her safety and livelihood are never once at risk.

Josephine Gazard is an arts/law student at University of Sydney. She is part of the core team of Amnesty Australia’s new youth collective, ACRUX, which aims to engage young people in human rights issues through culture. She has worked and volunteered in the non-profit sector for the past two years, engaging on multiple projects advancing social justice, youth empowerment and the intersection of creativity and community. Earlier this year, she wrote the consent training material for the Sydney University residential colleges.

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Less than 48 hours after Larissa Waters’ resignation announcement, the Australian Greens have their new leader. David Shoebridge, we learned today, has beaten Mehreen Faruqi and Sarah Hanson-Young in a heated three-way contest for the top job.​

It makes way for an overhaul that many believe is overdue. For years, the party’s primary vote has stagnated, even as support for major parties falls. The Greens now stand as the parliament’s default flag-bearer of progressive politics, as Labor policy encroaches further into the neo-liberal right, and yet the party has so far failed in its efforts to capture the popular imagination of Australia’s working class.

This tension has weighed heavily on the moment, and even the selection process became contentious in and of itself. Former Greens MP Max Chandler-Mather had published an open letter calling on the eleven members of the Greens Party Room to open up a vote to their grassroots membership. He argued that at a time of “genuine debate and disagreement” over the future direction of the party, such a consequential decision should be made democratically, via a “direct all member vote” - an approach already implemented by Green parties in the UK and New Zealand. His post gained fast traction among the party’s supporters online, but ultimately fell on deaf ears; Shoebridge was voted in by his parliamentary colleagues on a result of 7-4 after preferences.

It makes for an awkward start to a touted period of renewal for the floundering minor party. Shoebridge spoke repeatedly on Monday about the need to build a “mass movement” that can rise to the current political moment. Just not a mass movement that has direct say in their leadership - at least not yet. Shoebridge says he has plans to “create further democratisation” that would give members a say in their elected representatives, and on party policies. But with One Nation so far ahead in the race to convert a disillusioned working class, there’s a chance that “next time” might not be soon enough.

One of the key barriers for the Greens is a perception problem. It has been diagnosed time and again by political observers: everyday Australians are not convinced that a party composed mostly of lawyers and white-collar workers can understand their struggles. Moral grandstanding has alienated voters who have come to view the Greens as a group of shouty elites who don’t understand the ‘real world’. This narrative is reinforced by a hostile media class, who seem to oscillate between positioning the party as dangerously radical or as laughably incompetent. It is exceptionally difficult to deliver a winning message in that context, but especially without a compelling counter-narrative.

This is not to deny the impact of a party that I have loved since I voted in my first Federal Election in 2016. But the stakes are higher than ever, and love is no longer enough. The rise of One Nation has proven that Australians are desperate for a viable alternative, but that alternative needs to show that regular people are represented and heard in their movement.

For decades, the Greens have straddled the line between activism and politics, and they have rightly held the major parties to account. They have been a voice for the voiceless; they have scrutinised the government’s complicity in genocide; they have held themselves to a level of empathy and integrity matched by few others in the corridors of power; and they have advocated for ambitious reforms that genuinely help working people. But if they can’t make the numbers needed to actually affect this change, then where does that leave us?

We know that it is possible to make ambitious, progressive politics accessible and exciting to the masses. Against an insurgent far-right swing, left-wing movements around the world have been making inroads - the best-known examples are Zohran Mamdani’s New York City and the UK Green Party under Zack Polanski. While each of their contexts is vastly different, there are shared qualities that underpin their success. Both leaders speak plainly to the struggles of working people, and the systemic inequities that have benefitted the wealthy at their expense. They are pragmatic in approach and rhetoric, but ambitious in platform, and visionary in projecting the story that progressives need to tell.

If the Australian Greens are to have any chance of following this same path, there must be a complete strategic reset, and it must be genuinely driven from the ground up. And with a new leader in the hot seat, it could be in reach. Shoebridge’s image might not stray from the lawyer trope, having previously worked as a barrister for more than a decade. However, he has a reputation within parliament as an effective, and sometimes relentless, operator, and as a strong voice on defence, economics, and government transparency, which could help set him apart.

And Shoebridge has been posturing that significant change is coming. Speaking to the press after the announcement of his leadership, he acknowledged the urgent need for the Greens to “seize the moment”. Alongside deputy leader Steph Hodgins-May, Shoebridge set a bold new agenda: “We are not here to make the Labor Party any better. The Greens are here to replace them”. It sits starkly against his predecessor’s commitment to a “firm but constructive” approach to working with the government, following the May 2025 election.

Right now, the Greens are at a crossroads. Their new leader may have a better chance of turning round the ship than his predecessor, but the “mass movement” he speaks of will not actualise unless serious structural transformation follows. For all of our sakes, I hope that Shoebridge can see that through.

About the author

Kalila Welch is the editor of Cheek Media. Passionate about social justice and civic engagement, she studied politics and communication at university and holds a Master of Journalism. Prior to joining Cheek in 2025, Kalila spent four years as a business journalist reporting on the media and advertising industries.

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Content note: this articles discusses suicide.

It was this month, seven years ago, when I received the call. My friend was given the impossible task of delivering some devastating news. Through a shaky voice and tears, he told me; Jeremiah took his own life. I was overwhelmed with disbelief. The death of a friend is insurmountable, especially when they are young and have so much more life to live. Jeremiah was just shy of his 23rd birthday. Knowing he will not celebrate his 30th birthday this October is heartbreaking.

Jeremiah had a loving family and friends when he was studying at the University of Wollongong, at the time of his passing. I thought he was relatively happy, although it was known that he was battling depression every day - a fight I didn’t realise he was losing.

For anyone who has lost someone dear to them, you’d be familiar with the type of questions that creep in: When did I see them last? What was the last thing I said to them? Did l tell them I cared enough?

But when the cause of death is suicide, racing questions become even harder. Learning of Jeremiah’s passing, my inner dialogue would repeat: Why would he do this? Did he not realise how loved he was? What could I have done to stop this? The truth is: while it’s normal to ride the wave of such emotions, these questions help no one. Not only are they impossible to answer; they’re hurtful. What is much more important, I have come to realise, is recalling cherished memories and not allowing them to get lost in the noise of grief.

We are coming to the end of Suicide Prevention Month this September - the same month that marks the death anniversary of my dear friend. I mulled over the idea of writing this. I cried looking through old photos. I feared no words could materialise the great loss. But with the synchronicity of timing and a blessing from Jem’s lovely family, here we are because I wanted to remember my friend and raise suicide awareness at the same time.

Just this week, Dreamwork’s The Forgotten Island movie was released. It is inspired by Filipino mythology and explores the power of friendship. Jem’s beautiful Mum, Jean, is from the Philippines just like mine, and I’m sure if Jem was still here, we would have gone to the movies together - crying, laughing and deconstructing how our heritage is, finally, on display. One powerful takeaway from the movie is the comparison of memories to magic. However corny that might sound to some, that through-line had my friends and I in tears. For anyone who has lost someone to suicide, associating memories with magic is the gentle reminder we need.

Jem and I’s shared Filipino heritage connected us on a deeper level, and I wish I could tell him about the journey I have been on in recent years to learn as much as I can about our culture. Back in 2013, we worked together to raise $1000 at school to help our kababayan (Filipino community) after Typhoon Haiyan ravaged the Philippines and impacted millions of lives.

We drew closest when we were both appointed House Captains for McCabe (the blue group) in our final year of High School at St Johns in God’s Country - Nowra. Jem had the best qualities to motivate our school-mates - he was kind, encouraging, funny and so caring. Meanwhile, I was loud enough to get people’s attention - so together, we were the perfect duo.

One day during my birthday week in Year 12, Jem put on an Oscar-worthy performance and told me I was in trouble and had been called in to see our Year Coordinator, Ms Iso, right away. What I found, as he rushed me into our home-room, was a beautiful cake decorated with icing that read “Happy Birthday!!” in a room full of our school mates. That’s just one example of his generosity, and it’s a memory, among many, that I’ll never forget.

With Jems death anniversary falling within Suicide Prevention Month, it means, hopefully, that his family and friends will either be checked on, or will take a moment to check-in with themselves. However, it’s important that we see raising awareness a year-round responsibility. Checking in on yourself, or on your loved ones, is a practice we should implement daily. The theme for this Suicide Prevention Month is: “We all have a role to play in suicide prevention” - which is true this month, and every other month too.

To better understand the full extent of the mental health crisis in Australia, I wanted to speak to someone with lived experience. I reached out to 27-year-old Emma Pryse Jones, who, after navigating complex mental illness as a teenager, has forged an impactful career in the space. Currently, she works for Murdoch Children’s Research Institute and Growing Minds Australia, while also sitting on the Headspace board as an advisor. I thought that chatting with her would help me and anyone reading this to make more sense of suicide. But one thing Emma made very clear, compassionately, is that there is no feasible blanket solution.

“The thing about grief is that people want to try and make sense of what’s happened and why it’s happened, and that’s a really natural, normal response. The tricky thing about suicide is that it’s always very unique and multifactorial based on an individual’s life and their circumstances,” she explained.

“Historically, mental health care and resourcing have been primarily located within the health portfolio. However, many of the factors that drive distress sit beyond health, meaning effective prevention requires a coordinated, whole-of-government approach.

“So we’re talking about housing instability, cost of living, family and domestic violence - things that cause people to be distressed in their lives. All of these things aren’t always seen as suicide prevention work, are actually deeply important suicide prevention work.”

Suicide is the leading cause of death for Australians aged 15 to 24 years old, and there is no wand to change this statistic right away. Last year, a national suicide prevention plan was implemented to run until 2035. Emma told me that it’s being co-designed by people with lived experience of suicide and that’s one step forward in the right direction.

“It actually looks at some of the outcomes that are more around making life worth living - which is a concept that’s often not always spoken about. It’s one thing to keep people alive; it’s another thing to be able to keep them alive in a life that feels worthy to that person.”

As Emma told me, it is complicated, and we can’t address everything in a one-hour phone call, nor one written piece. But one aspect Emma spoke about which I believe is so important is the power of having a community. Jem and I were so lucky to have a relatively tight-knit year group at school and I’m sure those connections helped him on his darkest days.

“The way that people feel seen, heard and respected in their lives and their community is essential to their actual well-being.

“It all does interplay and interconnect, and so it’s not just to be viewed in that narrow biomedical clinical lens that we often see is spoken about.”

I know that not every young person has supportive High School friends. But it is so important to note that there are so many other avenues to find community, and whether you are young or old, it is absolutely paramount to a healthy well-being. That could take any form - book clubs, sports, volunteer groups, choirs or even online.

“There is some pretty abhorrent stuff out there on social media, but it also provides spaces for people to access and support and information, for young people particularly,” said Emma.

“Historically, social media has been the one place where many young people dip their toe in the water to seek support for their mental health and well-being,” she said.

Emma says it is proven that talking to someone with lived experience of depression or suicide is extremely helpful.

“It’s really useful to have people who deeply know and see you for what you’re going through, and that can make a really large difference.”

I fear that when Jem and I graduated High School, the emotional sense of belonging - the literal theme of our HSC English essays (which everyone hated at the time) vanished intermittently while we were trying to find our places in the world outside of school cliques. Humans crave connection and right now, it feels like we need to find community more than ever.

Regional areas are prone to higher rates of suicide - Emma told me that can be because of intergenerational challenges like the stigma attached to experiencing mental health. This barrier can be broken down through meaningful conversations. Mental health challenges are real, and people are dying because of them. Community is the biggest strength of our smaller Australian towns; we must allow that bond to go deeper than face value.

One awesome community group I have seen gain traction in more regional areas over the last few years is The Man Walk, which I would implore any male seeking community to join. We mustn’t underestimate how the kindness of strangers can go a long way for anyone, especially someone who is not doing very well.

“Really basic interactions and conversations can make people feel seen and safe,” said Emma. “You never know when people are having potentially the worst day of their life.

“You might be a barista - the way you engage with someone in the morning might be the one thing that actually turns their day around and is enough for them to go: ‘now I can stay another day and so it’s going to be okay,” she added.

I’m so appreciative of Emma taking the time and load to talk to me about this complex topic. But please note, this piece is not a replacement for medical advice; it’s simply my own way of remembering my dear friend, Jem. As Januel Mercado, one of the Forgotten Island directors, says: “Memories and the people we share them with define us.”

Emma told me that while people grieving may be left with questions and pain, particularly when thinking about the distress their loved one was going through, it’s imperative to remember the best version of them.

“We have to give people the dignity of choice and the dignity of risk as well. As difficult as that may be, the choice that other people have made on their own terms is also really important.”

“So, focus on when they were their best, brightest, most alive selves in a way that honours them and their legacy.”

In loving memory of Jeremiah.

About the author

Bernadette Clarke is a Digital Journalist at Cheek Media. As a third-culture kid, she is passionate about writing from a Filipina-x-Aussie lens. Bernie, as we more affectionately call her, is also an avid ocean-lover who grew up in a small coastal town, so she is committed to reporting on regional affairs and the effects of climate change.

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Warmer temperatures are contributing to shorter snow seasons and coral bleaching, not only hurting our diverse flora and fauna, but Australian livelihoods, too, writes Cheek Media’s Bernadette Clarke.

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Australia’s snow season is slowly disappearing

The somber reality of climate change is most discernible in Australia’s alpine regions, where snow capped gumtrees are becoming rarer to see. Snow falls in three main areas of the country: the NSW Snowy Mountains, Victorian Alps and on top of high-altitude mountains in Tasmania.

Many foreigners suspect there is no snow in Australia, and the grim truth is that projections indicate that’s slowly becoming the reality. High emissions modelling by Protect Our Winters (POW) and Australian National University (ANU) predicts that by 2080, major resorts including Thredbo, Falls Creek and Mt Buller may have no viable ski season due to warmer winters.

The CSIRO has observed data from 1990 to 2023 that show worst-case projections are closest to reality - unless global emissions are significantly reduced, which we know is not happening. This year, Australia has experienced one of its warmest winters on record, which caused a massive blow to the snow industry worth $5.71 billion in economic output. Ski resorts have shut down already, one month earlier than usual - impacting roughly 22,000 jobs across the alpine regions, as well as the livelihoods of people who genuinely love their work.

Kyle Boys is one of those avid snow enthusiasts and the owner of Blizzard Academy. His job is just as unique as the Snowy Mountains and Victorian back country he takes groups out to. Boys provides important safety lessons for unpredictable snow conditions, and has one of the only businesses in Australia offering an advanced avalanche training course for wary overseas travellers.

Boys told Cheek that the mountains have been a massive part of his life for more than a decade.

Boys’ life is centred around the alpine mountains, which means when bad snow seasons are prevalent, it hits extra hard. This year he observed that rain fell instead of snow, impacting his work.

“These are our mountains, this is our home, and it’s sad to see it not fully covered in snow, especially when there’s bad winters like this.”

“It’s limited what we can do if it’s raining - I have to cancel tours, and I can’t take people out. That’s the challenge.”

The impacts of climate change in the Australian Alps is not only contributing to biodiversity loss. It’s costing businesses’ and harming the well-being of communities who live in the most beautiful yet vulnerable parts of the country.

Over a decade, there’s been a 15% decline in people going to Australian snow villages. In 2024, 1.7 million people used lift tickets or season passes, compared to 2 million in 2015 - 300,000 less people and pockets. The trend hasn’t been entirely steady, with visitation numbers rising to 1.9 million in 2023. However, it’s a worrying trajectory that is familiar overseas, with the US ski industry losing US$2 billion in the past two decades due to the effects of climate change.

“When you look at Thredbo, they can mountain bike in summer, so if the winters become shorter, then they have that option.”

“We don’t have that many other offerings when there’s no snow. We’re an avalanche awareness and mountain safety education platform, so we don’t really have any alternatives. We’re governed by snow,” Boys said.

While this winter was the worst Boys has ever operated in, he remains optimistic that good winters are still on the horizon. He also said that he thinks it’s important visitors support the snow industry now more than ever.

“I still think we are gonna have better winters. This is just one of those winters that we would all like to forget, but it is what it is, and we had to enjoy it while it was there.”

“I still had lots of amazing days and lots of happy clients. I was fairly busy most of the season.”

“You just end up being busier in a shorter period of time.”

Boys, like many snow enthusiasts, want the government to do more to show they actually care about alpine villages across the country.

A long list of politicians have taken a first step to prove they do care by taking the time to meet with representatives from Protect Our Winters (POW) - the only advocacy body representing Australia’s alpine regions.

POW is currently focusing all of its attention on calling for the Commonwealth government to adopt an adaptation policy which they hope will implement a less fragmented approach when dealing with the effects of climate change.

Climate campaigner at Protect Our Winters Australia, Sam Beaver, told Cheek that having a secure national adaptation plan in place is for attractions, like the alpine regions, which are “nationally significant.”

“It’s a pretty devastating situation up there. There’s nothing to sugarcoat about it from our perspective.”

“We’re clearly already seeing massive impacts up in the Alpine, and that means that we have to be adapting.”

“National parks, for example, are doing quite a lot of interesting ecological adaptation around threatened species. But all of this adaptation is happening in a really fragmented and uncoordinated way and is massively underfunded.”

Just last month POW, including Sam, travelled to Canberra to talk to politicians at both a local and federal level. Among the passionate snow enthusiasts were climate scientists and elite winter athletes, including Olympic mogul skier, Jackson Harvey, who represented the country this year at the Winter Olympics in Italy.

Due to the decline of snow in Australia’s alpine regions being a cross-sectional issue across varying portfolios, the ministers POW spoke to include:

• Minister for the Environment and Water, Murray Watt.

• Assistant Minister for Climate Change and Energy, Josh Wilson’s office

• Minister for Trade and Tourism, Don Farrell’s office.

• Local Federal MP Kristy McBain - member for Eden-Monaro (which covers Jindabyne), and the Minister for Emergency Management and Regional Development, local Government and Territories.

• Independents Helen Haines, Zali Stegall, Sophie Scamps and Monique Ryan.

• Greens members and Senators.

POW told Cheek that at every meeting they brought attention to the importance of phasing out the burning of oil, coal and gas and getting on top of fossil fuel exports - Australia’s biggest contribution to climate change. However, with that plea consistently un-actioned, their main focus was on an adaptation policy.

Beaver said they felt heard, and that there was a good consensus that coordination from the commonwealth was needed to make adaptation across the alps more effective.

“The Australian Alps is a small place; it only takes up a small percentage of landmass, but it’s so nationally significant in terms of winter tourism, water security in the Murray-Darling Basin, biodiversity and threatened species.”

Meanwhile, the Great Barrier Reef is fading

The Great Barrier Reef (GBR) has garnered more attention than any natural landmark in Australia when it comes to the impacts of climate change. Its beauty leaves people around the globe in awe, and scientists astonished, with 400 different types of coral calling the reef home - the world’s largest and most diverse collection.

In recent years, warmer water temperatures have contributed to mass coral bleaching events affecting the reefs ecosystem that stretches 2,300 kilometers. There have been six mass bleaching events in the last nine years, and the time before last was the first to simultaneously affect all three sectors of the reef - north, central and south.

Following these consecutive coral bleaching events, the Australian Government committed to invest a record $1.2 billion over nine years up until 2030 towards reef protection. However, the community who live and work on the reef say that for the amount of work that needs to be done, that’s still not enough.

Deloitte Access Economics value the GBR at $95 billion in total, including its economic, social, and cultural value. Meanwhile, the reef supports 77,000 full-time equivalent jobs, and tourism alone generates $7.9 billion annually. The Government does have high stakes in the issue, because if the reef were a company, it would be Australia’s fifth-largest employer.

Despite this, calls for lower emissions are still going unanswered and unheard, leaving those who are connected to the reef and its ocean to scramble for short-term solutions.

Back in 2012, the reef did get its own form of an adaptation plan, similar to the policy Protect Our Winters is advocating strongly for their regions. The policy was first labelled the Great Barrier Reef Climate Change Adaptation Strategy and Action Plan (2012–2017), and now there is the Reef Blueprint 2030 - Great Barrier Reef Blueprint for Climate Resilience and Adaptation.

Nicole Rosser Marsh, a marine scientist, says the projects that stem from the billion-dollar investment, such as growing coral nurseries, have become “cost prohibitive.” The GBR covers an area larger than New Zealand, so to scale up on the entire reef is a daunting task.

“It sounds like a lot of money spent, but when you look at the actual costs associated with these projects, it doesn’t go very far, unfortunately. It’s also, you just don’t have the time or the infrastructure to actually do that.

Rosser Marsh is also the director of Zigzag Tours, which has operated Charters out to the Great Barrier Reef for nearly 10 years. She told Cheek that watching the decline has been “heartbreaking.”

“On a personal level, it hurts to see that because you know how important it is.”

“On a business level, it impacts your visitors’ experience, and some days we get hard questions to answer like: ‘Is this what it’s supposed to look like?’ ‘It’s not what I’ve seen in the past,’ especially when we have bleaching events.”

“We tend to be quite honest with our passengers and say ‘Yes that is bleaching’ and then that can open a conversation about what coral bleaching is and how we can improve the situation.”

Research literature suggests bleaching events cut reef tourism visitation by 10–20% per event. However, like Boys, Nicole remains hopeful.

“On the GBR we’re fortunate that there seems to always be people that want to come here.”

“When they book their Great Barrier Reef experience, it’s this bucket list item. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity and so you know they’re going to do it rain, hail or shine. “

While Nicole says the trajectory we’re on means the reef will not exist into the future in the way we know it, she believes that her marine home will not be going anywhere anytime soon.

“We’ll always have the Great Barrier Reef in one form or another - it just might not be the form that we’re used to seeing right now.”

“It’s still beautiful, and it’ll always be worth visiting, but we don’t know exactly what’s going to be happening in the future.”:

“It’s still worth coming to see - it’s still beautiful.”

There has been a glimmer of hope with the GBR experiencing momentary growth in its reefs. However, while that sounds great on paper, the reality is that the ecosystem is growing back in a more vulnerable shape.

Dr Petra Lundgren told Cheek she is really worried that this coming year could be catastrophic, with El Niño predicted to be the strongest on record.

The way coral bleaching works is when temperatures get really hot. Lundgren explains:

“You have these dull drum conditions where the UV radiation and the sun radiation that goes into the reef becomes really strong.”

“We are of course really worried that we’re going to have a major coral bleaching event this year with a super El-Niño coming our way.”

Dr Lundgren works extremely hard to push back on the effects of climate change through restoration.

“Investment in research has allowed us to upscale restoration to get enough corals out there to make a difference, and we also are much, much better at predicting.”

“The next big challenge is to really understand how we can assist the adaptation of corals to increasing temperatures - like, how do we make them more heat tolerant.”

“We’re hoping that they will have increased thermal tolerance, or even if their offspring will have increased thermal heat tolerance in the future, then maybe we can help them keep up with the pace of climate change.”

However, like the majority of communities who live in these naturally beautiful yet vulnerable environments, the importance of cutting fossil fuels remains paramount.

“The most important thing we need to do is just stop emissions,” said Dr Lundgren.

“No matter how much you do, if we keep burning fossil fuels the way that we are right now, there’s nothing we can do. But if we cut emissions now and get really serious about treating climate change as the threat that it is, then I do think that can help us maintain pace with it.”

The impacts of climate change around the world and in Australia are multifaceted and frightening. We know that diverse ecosystems like the alpine regions and Great Barrier Reef will suffer. But what we must also remember is that these impacts hold entire tourism industries and livelihoods hostile.

Warming temperatures not only mean businesses and people will experience immense financial losses, but the communities behind them suffer the consequences when it comes to their own wellbeing as well.

While there are immeasurable impacts to explore, these anecdotes gratify the evidence that climate change has the potential to cause financial pressure, mental health deterioration and loss of connection to the environment.

“My message of hope is that the Great Barrier Reef is enormous. It’s huge, and there will be pockets of the Great Barrier Reef that will survive - coral reefs have been around since time immemorial,” said Dr Lundgren.

“They have been here for a geological timeline that we can’t even perceive and I think that in the geological timeline of a coral reef, humans are just going to be a blip, and then they’ll recover and they will come back. I think that what gives me hope is the diversity that we see out there - the places that coral reefs are popping up.”

About the author

Bernadette Clarke is a Digital Journalist at Cheek Media. As a third-culture kid, she is passionate about writing from a Filipina-x-Aussie lens. Bernie, as we more affectionately call her, is also an avid ocean-lover who grew up in a small coastal town, so she is committed to reporting on regional affairs and the effects of climate change.

Cheek Live: State of the Nation kicks off next week

Starting October 1, our dear founder Hannah Ferguson will be heading off on her biggest ever national tour to bring you her synopsis of all the biggest moments of culture politics in 2026, with a heavy (and necessary) helping of fun, hope, and lots of belly laughs. Not only will it be the last time to catch Hannah on a tour like this before she shifts into campaign mode, but the tour revenue goes directly back into funding the work we do as a team! So there are two big reasons to grab tickets if you haven’t already <3

Tour dates, tickets and all that other good stuff can be found here!

Culture Bite is a free weekly column that features Cheek-coded analysis and opinions at the intersection of pop culture and politics. To support more content like this, please consider becoming a paid subscriber!

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A couple of weeks ago I finished the second season of Adults, and I just loved it. As I finished the last episode, I was itching for more and nostalgic for the days when 8 episodes were a quarter of a season.

As someone who grew up watching sitcoms, from Friends to Everybody Loves Raymond to Modern Family and King of Queens, what feels strong about these shows, whether you like them or not, is their ability to explore new ideas and respond to viewer feedback. I love a “filler episode”, and I love that these shows can move past a “bad episode”. For instance (spoiler alert for Friends), Monica and Chandler were never supposed to have a long-term relationship. Still, the writers saw how the audience responded well to their fling and decided to embed it in the story. ​

When it came to Adults, I would’ve loved 22 episodes, and the cast has echoed this sentiment in interviews too. However, in an era when shows are increasingly cancelled after just one season, I imagine being renewed for another season must feel like a relief.

In the era of streaming, multiple seasons and resolved show endings feel rare, while reboots, adaptations, and sequels of TV and movies are endless.

Just this year, we saw reboots of shows like Malcolm in the Middle and That ’90s Show, and some decades-old movies got sequels: The Devil Wears Prada 2, Practical Magic 2, and Wuthering Heights. Meanwhile, Mindy Kaling’s newly created Not Suitable for Work was cancelled after just one season. Online sentiment suggests it wasn’t a great season of TV, but most comedies need more than one season to build themselves out.

In fact, a rough season one is typical - The Office (US) was almost cancelled due to low ratings after its first season. However, the network (NBC) believed in it, and we got 9 more seasons, cementing the show as one of the best-loved comedies of the 21st century.

Similarly, Parks and Recreation saw many sceptical viewers. The show’s premiere drew 6.77 million viewers, but viewership declined almost every week. And yet, we got a second season because NBC had already ordered a full slate of episodes based on its confidence in creators Greg Daniels and Michael Schur - the same brains behind The Office.

These days, proving yourself in season 1 is even harder, because there are so few episodes to work with. The average number of episodes per TV season dropped from 20 to 24 in 2006, then 15 to 22 episodes in 2016, and by 2026, average seasons run just 7 to 10 episodes. This means less time for writers to build strong characters and for audiences to become immersed in their world.

Of course, shows like Severance, The Pitt, and Pluribus have seen lots of success and, in my opinion, are undeniably great shows that show that a strong storyline is the backbone of a good TV show. But these are the exceptions, because streamers have shifted their model from simply maximising customers to maximising profits.

The rise of the streamers

Unlike network television, which gets its revenue from ads, streamers get their revenue primarily from subscribers - and this difference matters. While network television cares about the ratings of an individual show, streamers are looking to maximise subscribers. In the early days of streaming, from 2009 and 2022, streamers churned out original ideas in the hopes of attracting new audiences. They were throwing ideas against a wall to see what would stick, and as a result, scripted content production tripled during this period.

However, streamers have now shifted to retaining customers and growing profits, focusing on acquiring licenses for popular film franchises and shows rather than investing in new original content. For example, acquiring a show like Friends or adding another season of Emily in Paris is a safer bet than investing in a completely new concept that might fail or take time to build viewer retention.

Data firm Luminate reports that broadcast networks have seen a 21 per cent drop in original shows, from 196 in 2024 to 154 in 2025, as they compete against streamers. Streamers HBO Max, Netflix, Paramount, and Hulu all saw a drop in original shows, while Prime Video and Disney+ increased their show counts in 2025, and Apple TV stayed the same.

And it’s not just TV; films are being impacted too. According to CJ Stallworth, “the percentage of original films dropped from 40.9% in 2000 and is now 18.6% in 2024, while the percentage of non-original films rose from 59.1% to 81.4%”.

If he wanted to, he would

Several factors have made investing in original concepts riskier today, like our fragmenting attention (hello doomscrolling!) and the rising costs of producing a show or movie. But the reality is that subscription fees keep rising, streaming giants keep getting richer, and the new content they offer keeps shrinking.

And this is ironic when up to 74 per cent of Gen Zers and Millennials supposedly prefer fresh, innovative ideas over rehashed intellectual property (IP)

This desire for originality shows up in our viewing habits, too. On the background of a wave of streaming cancellations, a YouGov survey found that a quarter of UK adults now wait for streaming originals to air their finale before they start watching. Around a third of UK adults estimated that one to three shows they had started since February 2022 had been cancelled, even with unsettled plotlines.

As of September 2026, Netflix, the biggest global streaming giant, has a market capitalisation of about $300 billion, up over $50 billion in just the last 6 years. Their lack of investment in fresh ideas and their habit of cancelling new shows come down to quick bucks. Instead, they’re pushing their dollars into live specials, podcasts, and shorter videos like those for social media to capture content.

Shorter seasons and reboots, sequels and adaptations means less opportunities

As original stories get less investment, studios make less movies and unemployment goes up. Since the end of 2022, there has been a 30 per cent drop in the employment of crew members, the backbone of the film and TV industry, in Hollywood.

And as franchise movies are also increasing in production costs, we are seeing studios move away from their usual production hubs to areas with more tax incentives, one of those being Australia. While there is the upside for the local industry, the sudden shift has meant that LA-based film workers who cannot relocate for work are out of a job. Right now, a third of Los Angeles’ soundstages are completely vacant.

Alongside the unemployment, the lack of investment by the giant streamers and the rise in relying on IP that “works”, means new talent, who usually star in original scripts, do not have the same opportunities. And even for established actors, playing the same character across multiple sequels or spinning off into legacy reboots does not allow them to grow artistically.

This year’s blockbuster hit, Obsession, sparked significant discourse as it was a rare occasion where an indie film received the attention it deserved and allowed for new talent like the movie’s star, India Navarette, to enter the industry.

As individuals, we can do our part by watching the original film or finishing the original TV show to boost it in the algorithm or subscribing to platforms like MUBI. However, the bulk of the power lies with the billion-dollar streaming giants seeking to maximise profit over art - and they won’t change their ways voluntarily.

About the author

​Varsha Yajman is the Digital Content Producer at Cheek Media. She is a youth advocate and lawyer with a background in climate litigation and is passionate about looking at the intersection between race, climate justice, and mental health.

It’s been a week! Albo at the UN, OpenAI in Medicare…

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As a special thank you to the wonderful humans who make Cheek possible, we are sharing our new merch with our paid subscribers first!

Upgrade to get early access to the pre-sale - and a cheeky bonus discount at the check out - before we open it up to everyone else on Sunday night.

Full announcement, details, and a link to shop is all there for subs just below the paywall <3

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Cheek Live: State of the Nation kicks off in two weeks.

Starting October 1, our dear founder Hannah Ferguson will be heading off on her biggest ever national tour to bring you her synopsis of all the biggest moments of culture politics in 2026, with a heavy (and necessary) helping of fun, hope, and lots of belly laughs. Not only will it be the last time to catch Hannah on a tour like this before she shifts into campaign mode, but the tour revenue goes directly back into funding the work we do as a team! So there are two big reasons to grab tickets if you haven’t already <3

Tour dates, tickets and all that other good stuff can be found here!

Two weeks ago, the Albanese Government announced its long-awaited ‘Digital Duty of Care’. It marks a long overdue overhaul of Australia’s online safety regulations, aiming to reign in the tech oligarchy in the hopes that making them legally responsible for the content on their platforms might make them more inclined to make the digital public square less of a joyless cesspit.

It’s been positioned by Labor as another notch in the belt of a Prime Minister leading the global charge on tech regulation. Just this week Anthony Albanese fronted the UN Convention in New York to tout our world-first social media age ban as part of Australia’s campaign for a temporary seat on the UN security council from 2029. Never mind that the ban is currently failing on most metrics, and faced opposition from a significant number of academics to begin with.

To the government’s credit, the digital duty of care is a proposal that enjoys much broader support - and that’s because it genuinely has the potential to make the online world a safer space for every Australian. First flagged in late 2024, the details of the proposal have now been laid out for the first time, with industry, advocates, and other stakeholders having been called upon to provide their feedback to the draft bill.

Spearheading the big announcement, was a commitment to give Australians control over their social media algorithms. It’s an idea that has gained strong public backing over the past 10 months, thanks largely to the ‘Fix Our Feeds’ campaign led by Chanel Contos and her advocacy group Teach Us Consent.

All of this is a hugely big deal, both from a regulatory perspective and for the daily lives of everyday people. But as hopeful as it feels, there are still plenty of questions to be answered. In many ways, the draft legislation doesn’t quite go far enough - and in others, it’s arguably a little too prescriptive. Meanwhile, a predictable wave of conservative backlash threatens to make internet regulation into yet another culture war. It could impact how these critical reforms are implemented - and whether they get up at all.

So, we wanted to unpack this all properly for you - and with the help of some experts in the space. We’re going to cover off on what’s actually IN the exposure draft, opting-in versus opting-out of algorithms (and what the government has actually committed to), and whether those ‘censorship’ claims actually hold any ground.

Read more

Cheek Live: State of the Nation kicks off in two weeks.

Starting October 1, our dear founder Hannah Ferguson will be heading off on her biggest ever national tour to bring you her synopsis of all the biggest moments of culture politics in 2026, with a heavy (and necessary) helping of fun, hope, and lots of belly laughs. Not only will it be the last time to catch Hannah on a tour like this before she shifts into campaign mode, but the tour revenue goes directly back into funding the work we do as a team! So there are two big reasons to grab tickets if you haven’t already <3

Tour dates, tickets and all that other good stuff can be found here!

The ADHD conversation has been flattened into two shouting camps: “everyone has it now” versus “it’s finally being recognised.” A GP on why the truth is messier, and more interesting, than your feed suggests.

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Few health topics generate more heat right now than ADHD. On one side: eye-rolling that “everyone suddenly has ADHD”. It is painted as a trend, an excuse, a TikTok fad. On the other side: relief and vindication, especially from adults, often women, who have spent decades feeling broken and finally have an explanation. As usual with these things, both camps are partly right, and turning this conversation into a shouting match does a disservice to the people it actually affects. Let me try to hold the nuance, because ADHD genuinely is real, genuinely is under-diagnosed in some groups, and genuinely is being distorted by social media, all at the same time.

Let’s start with the reality. ADHD is a well-established neurodevelopmental condition - not a personality quirk or a failing. In Australia, it affects an estimated 6 to 8 per cent of children and 3 to 5 per cent of adults, which is more than a million people. Left untreated it carries real consequences for education, work, relationships, mental health and safety. We now have Australia’s first national, NHMRC-approved clinical guideline for ADHD, endorsed by the colleges.

For a long time, we missed the diagnosis in a lot of people, particularly girls and women, and particularly the inattentive type who daydream quietly rather than bouncing off the walls. This is because the diagnostic picture was built around disruptive young boys. The girl staring out the window was often told they “just needed to try harder”, or “could apply themselves more”, then grew into a woman white-knuckling her way through adult life and wondering why everything felt harder for her than for everyone else.

The surge of adults - especially women - getting diagnosed in their thirties and forties now can be understood as a backlog finally clearing. You can see it in the prescribing data: after the PBS expanded subsidised stimulant access to adults in February 2021, dispensing rose steadily, reflecting a wave of previously-missed adults finally being treated.

But this is where the story gets complicated. Social media has done a lot of good to destigmatise ADHD - and in prompting people to seek assessment - but it’s also become a firehose of misinformation. When researchers had clinical psychologists evaluate the 100 most popular ADHD videos on TikTok, they found that fewer than half of the claims about ADHD symptoms actually aligned with the diagnostic criteria.

Much of what goes viral as “ADHD signs” - struggling to focus on boring tasks, procrastinating, losing your keys, getting distracted by your phone - also describes being a tired, busy, over-stimulated modern human, not a clinical disorder. One randomised study found that people shown ADHD misinformation came away more confident in their ADHD knowledge but less accurate, and more likely to seek both evidence-based and non-evidence-based “treatments”.

This isn’t to sneer at self-diagnosis. Often self-recognition is the first, incredibly valuable step toward a real assessment. But it’s important to understand that ADHD symptoms overlap heavily with other things: anxiety, depression, trauma, chronic sleep deprivation, perimenopause, even just the fractured attention that a life lived through a phone produces in all of us.

Difficulty concentrating is a symptom of being human under load, not only of ADHD. A TikTok checklist can’t distinguish between those; a proper assessment can. Self-diagnosis is a hypothesis, not a diagnosis. That distinction matters, because if your real problem is untreated anxiety, or a thyroid issue, or grief, an ADHD label (and the wrong medication) won’t fix it, and could delay or prevent you getting the treatment and clarity you really need.

The nuance cuts both ways. To the “everyone has it now” crowd: dismissing ADHD as a trend is lazy and cruel to the many people, especially women, who suffered for years precisely because it wasn’t recognised. To the “I saw myself in every video” crowd: recognising yourself in relatable content is a reason to seek a proper assessment, not a substitute for one. Both dismissal and over-diagnosis harm the same people: those who actually have ADHD and need it taken seriously.

Sitting underneath all of this is a real access problem that is fuelling the TikTok reliance. A comprehensive ADHD assessment is expensive and the waitlists are long, which pushes people toward free content and self-diagnosis by default. A 2023 Senate inquiry examined exactly these barriers, and there’s movement toward letting GPs play a larger role in diagnosis and prescribing, which would help, when it comes with the training and time to do it properly.

Where does that leave you if the videos feel a little too familiar? Take the recognition seriously, watch them, listen to them, identify what it is that is resonating. Then, take it to a professional. See a GP and ask for an assessment or a referral. Be honest about your whole picture, including sleep, mood, alcohol, stress and life stage, because those change the answer. Be a little sceptical of any account that hands you a diagnosis in sixty seconds, especially if it’s also selling a supplement, a course, or a product to help you “focus”. And if you do have ADHD, know that it’s real, it’s common, it’s treatable, and you’ve done nothing wrong by having it.

The goal is a diagnosis that’s right, because the right label opens the right door, and the wrong one just wastes your time.

About the author

Dr Rebekah Hoffman is a Sydney GP, practice owner, researcher and Chair of the RACGP NSW and ACT Faculty. She works across clinical practice, research and health advocacy, with a particular interest in preventive health, women’s health, healthcare access and translating complex medical evidence into practical, everyday advice. The views expressed are her own and do not necessarily reflect those of the organisations with which she is affiliated.

Cheek Live: State of the Nation kicks off in two weeks.

Starting October 1, our dear founder Hannah Ferguson will be heading off on her biggest ever national tour to bring you her synopsis of all the biggest moments of culture politics in 2026, with a heavy (and necessary) helping of fun, hope, and lots of belly laughs. Not only will it be the last time to catch Hannah on a tour like this before she shifts into campaign mode, but the tour revenue goes directly back into funding the work we do as a team! So there are two big reasons to grab tickets if you haven’t already <3

Tour dates, tickets and all that other good stuff can be found here!

Having spent years building and researching AI, Isabelle Kohout has been immersed in the beliefs and ways of thinking that pervade the tech world. By understanding these ideologies, she argues we can make more sense of the industry’s many contradictions.

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In recent weeks, the headlines have been dominated by the threat frontier AI poses to human civilisation. The media frenzy was spurred when a former Anthropic and OpenAI researcher publicly quit, saying “there is a strong chance we could all die in the immediate future” due to AI. He was backed by a current Anthropic employee, who affirmed this was an “earnestly” held view within the industry, and that he personally believed there was a more than 10% chance “AI could kill all humans” within the decade.

Days later, Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei published a letter calling for a slowdown in the pace of AI development, which quickly earned the endorsement of OpenAI CEO Sam Altman and xAI CEO Elon Musk. Yet, these labs are the very ones rushing to release increasingly powerful and often demonstrably unsafe AI systems. It’s understandably left many concerned and confused: do they want to slow down and keep us safe, or go faster and win the race?

Economic incentives undoubtedly play a role, but they aren’t the whole story. I’ve spent my career building and researching AI across industry and academia, and have been immersed in the beliefs and ways of thinking that pervade that world. By understanding these ideas, the contradictions can start to make more sense. Many AI executives and researchers have a shared goal: to build artificial intelligence that exceeds human capability, known as ‘artificial super intelligence’ (ASI).

There are two dominant schools of thought regarding this hypothetical technology. The ‘AI boosters’ or ‘AI accelerationists’ believe ASI will usher in an era of abundance, cure all forms of cancer and disease, fix global conflict, solve aging, and allow humanity to colonise the stars. Accordingly, they see any developmental slowdown as akin to murder, because of the deaths that ASI could have prevented. ‘AI doomers’, on the other hand, believe there is a significant chance that ASI cannot be controlled and therefore will end humanity entirely.

These ideas dominate AI discourse: on one hand, slow down to prevent catastrophic harm. On the other hand, raise more billions, release the newest models as fast as possible, don’t stop no matter what. Counterintuitively, we often see tech leaders embodying both views at the same time. One way to understand this is to see these leaders as doomers in relation to the work of other labs, yet boosters with respect to their own. They view ASI as inevitable, believe they are the only ones who can be trusted to build it, and therefore, must race to build it before their competitors.

As different as they might seem, both the booster and doomer views come from the same ideology, which drives much of the AI industry. It aims to maximise the long-term potential of humanity and bring about utopia through the creation of ASI. Many adherents believe humans must merge with AI to become a new species, or even that sentient AIs should replace humanity altogether. Some want to colonise the universe with “digital beings”.

Philosopher Dr. Émile Torres and computer scientist Dr. Timnit Gebru, who studied this ideology extensively, named it ‘TESCREALism’. The ‘TESCREAL’ acronym stands for a set of overlapping ideologies that influence each other and are often held together: transhumanism, extropianism, singularitarianism, cosmism, rationalism, effective altruism, and longtermism (Google these if you want to go down a rabbit hole).

I know this sounds unbelievable to most people. We do not expect individuals responsible for highly consequential technology to be influenced by such ideas. But far from being fringe, elements of these beliefs are held by the executives of major AI companies (including Sam Altman, Elon Musk, and Dario Amodei), the investors that fund them (including Peter Thiel, and Marc Andreessen), and prominent thinkers and researchers (for example, Eleizer Yudkowsky and Nick Bostrom).

In fact, it is hard to find an AI lab, think tank or auditing body without believers in its ranks. TESCREAL-aligned organisations recruit intelligent, motivated young people through university outreach. Throughout my career, I have personally encountered people who identify with these beliefs time and again.

However, these ideas are closer to a religion than scientific theories. They contain countless assumptions regarding the future capabilities of AI, the nature of humanity, consciousness, morality, and society. Many of these assumptions lack robust evidence, and should be regarded as ideas to be tested, rather than settled facts. Despite this, TESCREAL exerts outsized influence. Its proponents, including the powerful people mentioned above, explicitly advance an agenda to bring about the future it imagines by influencing government policy, funding political campaigns and securing proximity to political power. These ideas impact how leaders make decisions, how research is prioritised, how AI is talked about, and ultimately, the impact AI has on our lives.

So, will AI lead to human extinction? It’s important to know that the sense of imminent doom felt by many of us is fueled by a media that reports sensational, TESCREAL-like predictions without critically examining the assumptions underlying them, or engaging dissenting experts. In doing so, journalists unintentionally perpetuate the notion that we are destined for the two futures prophesied by doomers and boosters, making the public feel they can only throw their hands up and wait for those futures to arrive.

The reality is more complex. Experts disagree on how AI will impact society, what the biggest risks are and will be, how to mitigate them, and even whether human-level AI is technically possible at all. They do not all agree that AI will spell the end for humanity. Different opinions, however, are often drowned out by the panic and doom that creates clickable headlines.

The point of this article is not to claim that AI risk does not exist, or that we shouldn’t think seriously about emerging and future technologies, but rather, makes the point that people who talk with certainty about the future do so unwisely. Advanced AI does pose societal risks - because of this, I am pro-AI slowdown. In order to mitigate these risks, however, our dialogue about the technology must remain based in reality, and acknowledge, honestly, what we do and do not know. The future of humanity, and the role AI will play in it, is far from settled.

About the author

Isabelle Kohout is an AI researcher working on human-AI interaction, AI risk, and the impacts of AI on society, human cognition and belief. She holds a Masters in Human-inspired AI from the University of Cambridge as well as degrees in Computer Science and Engineering. Previously, she was a senior product manager at Atlassian, where she founded the company’s AI safety team and led development of AI products used by hundreds of thousands of people. You can read more of her writing on AI at her Substack, Notes from the Loop.

Cheek Live: State of the Nation kicks off in two weeks.

Starting October 1, our dear founder Hannah Ferguson will be heading off on her biggest ever national tour to bring you her synopsis of all the biggest moments of culture politics in 2026, with a heavy (and necessary) helping of fun, hope, and lots of belly laughs. Not only will it be the last time to catch Hannah on a tour like this before she shifts into campaign mode, but the tour revenue goes directly back into funding the work we do as a team! So there are two big reasons to grab tickets if you haven’t already <3

Tour dates, tickets and all that other good stuff can be found here!

The global groundswell of support for Macklemore’s pro-Palestinian advocacy serves to remind us that maybe celebrity activism really is that deep after all, writes Cheek’s Varsha Yajman.

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In the last week, publications, podcasts, and influencers that have either rarely or never spoken about Israel’s genocide in Palestine have flooded my social feed. And it was all because singer Ed Sheeran and his team dropped Macklemore as his opener for saying “Free Palestine” on stage.

Millions raised, millions speaking up in support of Palestine - all of this confirming my view that, whether I like it or not, celebrities do have an impact on political outcomes.

And this is interesting when much of the time celebrity activism can induce an eye roll - I love to see Charli XCX pointing out a Palestinian flag in the crowd, but it’s hardly the bold symbol of allyship that some fans would make it out to be. But there’s a line between healthy scepticism and outright dismissal - and I’d argue that the latter lets the rich and powerful off far too easily.

For instance, actress Jennifer Lawrence, once outspoken about her political views, last year told The Times she no longer believes celebrities have a role to play:

“Celebrities do not make a difference whatsoever on who people vote for. So then what am I doing? I’m just sharing my opinion on something that’s going to add fuel to a fire that’s ripping the country apart.”

While it’s a narrative she might find comfort in, it simply is not true. Grassroots movements often garner worldwide attention when celebrities and other high-profile spokespeople bring a mainstream platform to their causes. And this frustrates me. We have had three years of a live-streamed genocide. Macklemore himself has been calling for a Free Palestine long before he booked the Sheeran concert. Yet it’s the high-profile fallout of the last week that finally seems to have made saying “Free Palestine” socially acceptable in the mainstream. It feels like the collective mood has shifted, where calling out censorship is now the obvious response - not just the business of ‘radical’ activists.

To recap, Sheeran’s decision followed an ultimatum from billionaire Robert Kraft, owner of Gillette Stadium, one of the venues Sheeran was scheduled to perform at: either drop Macklemore as your opener after only two of the eight scheduled shows, or you do not play at any stadiums.

Sheeran’s disappointing decision to stand on the side of billionaire-led censorship has ultimately seen a surge in support for Free Palestine. It began when all his openers and his backing band pulled out of Sheeran’s tour, in solidarity with Macklemore and with the Palestinian cause.

It was met with an uproar of support from those who had never or barely touched politics before: influencers lip-syncing to Macklemore’s music, singers like Jack Antonoff singing “Free Palestine,” and publications and podcasts standing with Macklemore.

And finally, we saw material support: Macklemore donated $1 million in profits from his two nights opening for Sheeran’s tour to several Palestinian aid groups and called for Sheeran and Kraft to match it, which they have since promised to do. We’ve also seen children’s entertainer Ms Rachel follow suit with a $1 million donation to Palestinian aid, and publication PopBase has donated $10,000.

Anera, a humanitarian aid group working in Palestine, Lebanon, and Jordan, said donations since Macklemore’s announcement were more than triple this month’s daily average. The group’s Instagram page has also gained 8,000 followers.

Macklemore far from the first celebrity to speak and participate in politics in the Western World. In 1924, singer Al Jolson supported Republican candidate Warren G. Harding for president, and decades later, celebrities such as Harry Belafonte, Lena Horne, and Aretha Franklin voiced their public support for the Civil Rights movement.

More recently, in the lead-up to the 2024 US election, ‘The Daily Show with Trevor Noah partnered with the organisation Power the Polls to recruit poll workers to address shortages- a problem disproportionately affecting voters of colour. The campaign saw 170,000 new sign-ups - 35,000 of which came directly through the TV show’s link - resulting in the recruitment of 713,000 total poll workers that year, an almost three-fold increase on the organisation’s goal.

Alongside recruiting workers, celebrities in the US (where voting in elections is not compulsory) have made a huge difference by calling for people to register to vote. Taylor Swift’s endorsement of Kamala Harris in 2024 saw over 400,000 visitors on the voter registration site within 24 hours of her Instagram post. In 2023, Swift had urged her fans to register, resulting in 35,000 new voter registrations. Similarly, Ariana Grande promoted voter registration in 2019 by setting up booths at concerts on the American leg of her tour, resulting in over 33,000 voters registering.

And the same thing is happening closer to home. This year, musician Jack River successfully called for government action to ensure creatives in Australia do not have their work scraped by generative AI companies.

Celebrity as the mediator between the punter and the politician

Celebrity activism isn’t just a feel-good news story - research tells us it actually makes a difference. By directing attention to issues affecting the average person, like voting inaccessibility or a lack of action on a genocide, researchers Alfred Archer and Amanda Cawston state that “celebrities can play a useful bridging role between political elites and the people they represent”.

Alternatively, in a world where talking about politics is “not cool,” or where people lack exposure or knowledge to engage with politics, celebrities can act as an educational resource or an entry point into the political world - when they speak up about an issue, their audience gets exposed to it.

Olivia Rodrigo’s Daisy Chain Fields festival is a perfect example. Rodrigo partnered with twelve organisations focused on women’s issues, such as reproductive rights. These organisations had stalls at the festival for people to meet them and were also featured heavily on social media, giving their issues global attention and raising $20 million for the organisations.

We have also seen celebrities at award shows such as the Emmys wearing F*CK ICE pins, referring to the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s treatment and detainment of people - generally people of colour.

When celebrities speak up about political issues in public forums, they put the issue at the forefront of mainstream media, rally their supporters, and make it clear that, however much they disagree, the government cannot simply ignore it.

Our over-reliance on celebrities versus our politicians

As much as I love seeing my favourite celebrity use their platform for a good cause, there is an important question to ask: not whether celebrity activism is good or bad, but whether we should have to rely on celebrities.

And the answer would, in an ideal world, be no.

In an ideal world, or merely a just world, action on Palestine would’ve happened decades ago, climate change would be taken seriously, and most importantly, people would understand their democratic rights. However, that is not our reality.

Only around 28 per cent of Australian Year 10 students reach proficiency in civics and citizenship. In the US, almost two-thirds of people under 30 say high school civics education didn’t prepare them to understand voting deadlines, how to research candidates, or how to vote by mail.

When civics education is weak, our trust in these institutions and our understanding of change-making processes also decline. ​This is where celebrity steps in and becomes our main source of reliance.

As Mary R. Connelly notes in The Tartan, “Celebrities will always be involved in campaigns in one form or another, but their presence is not what causes people to vote blindly. The lack of political engagement and literacy is what allows celebrities to wield their influence on the political sphere so impactfully.”

About the author

​Varsha Yajman is the Digital Content Producer at Cheek Media. She is a youth advocate and lawyer with a background in climate litigation and is passionate about looking at the intersection between race, climate justice, and mental health.

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A couple of years ago, on a trip to the Philippines, I pondered the idea of removing the lines on my face. I’ve never really had the desire before, but when your cousin is a registered aesthetic nurse, injecting other family members in the living room, well, it becomes pretty tempting.

I happened to be on the phone to my Mum at the time, and I asked her what she thought. She yelled at me for what felt like an eternity saying things like: “How can you be a bloody tree hugger if you get botox Bernie!? No!”

Her logic didn’t really make sense, but the emotion? I resonated with it right away. I recognised the frustration, which makes it so hard to articulate. It’s something I experience every time a loved one tells me they want to get botox or a nose job or change something about themselves. While writing this, I can feel it right now - a knot in my chest that I cannot untangle. For my Mum, it came from more than sixty years of rage about how a woman should look.

This year I turned 30 years old, and in all of my circles, my female friends are grappling with the idea of getting botox - and that’s if they haven’t already. To inject or not inject? All I want to do is shake them and say: “I fucking love your facial expressions! You don’t need botox! You are a wonderful person; who cares if you have wrinkles?”. But it’s so hard to talk about injectables without sounding judgemental. Who am I to tell them what to do?

Even though I had more wrinkles than ever before, after constant squinting in the hot Philippine sun, I never went ahead with sticking a needle into my face that day. Anti-ageing beauty corporations hold more leverage than a trusted friend, but I let my mother win that round.

People as young as 18 are getting injectables. That’s the legal age of consent - I can imagine that if these procedures could be legally accessed early, they would be. We must take note - teenagers are paying to look younger. In Australia, the facial injectable market is expected to reach a revenue of USD $402.6 million by 2033 and with a growth rate of 8.6% annually from now until 2033.

I’m certainly not immune to attempting to improve the way I look. I use make-up and have spent hundreds of dollars on laser hair-removal. But pitting young women against old women? That’s on a different wave length. I believe there’s something dystopian about removing facial expressions in the pursuit of looking younger. It is problematic. But not everyone agrees, which is why it’s so hard to talk about.

Jameela Jamil, a British actress and activist, expressed similar frustrations in a recent post on Instagram:

“I care about a NEUROTOXIN only being marketed to women and girls when men aging is seen as cool and sexy and wise.

I care about the fact Botox interrupts our capacity for emotional processing.

I care that women’s emotions won’t be taught to children who study our faces.

I care that our experience is being erased.

I care that so many actresses over the age of 30 can’t emote on screen.

I care about the double standard of it all.”

One common argument I have been hearing is that we must get botox to keep up with the women around us. Because “everyone” is getting it. What a vicious cycle. Personally, I think it’s pretty cool that the lines on our faces tell a story.

The wrinkle between my eyebrows reminds me how lucky I have been to travel to the motherland and spend hours in the surf.

The laugh lines on my friends’ faces show me that they’ve giggled a lot and been up to some mischief in their lifetime.

Their crows’ feet crinkling up is the sweetest compliment next to a smile.

And when my whole face creases up it tells the Cheek team they are allowed to laugh at me for misunderstanding whatever pop culture trend they’re referencing.

When did dimples and lines stop being cute?

According to a leading Australian child psychologist, Steve Biddulph, the paralysis of emotion caused by botox can have an impact on children’s developmental progress. The absence of facial expressions shuts off children from reading our thoughts.

Thirteen years ago, he wrote about this in the magazine Totline: Even the youngest human beings are hard-wired to tune into other people’s feelings. His words resonate today more than we could have imagined.

“When your little one mirrors that look with their own face, a miraculous thing happens. Their brain also starts to feel the feelings that they’re seeing in the face of the other person.”

‘’This ability to read faces and understand them is what we call empathy.

‘’Our faces are so connected to our feelings that when a person has Botox treatments, they actually start to have less feelings as a result,” he wrote.

I spent my childhood worried about what I looked like. I had darker features than the people around me. Thicker eyebrows, browner skin, hairier arms and a nose that wasn’t pointy enough - or so I thought. I was too young to realise that those were my defining Asian features. I wasn’t mature enough to know they made me who I am.

Now that I’m a 30 year old woman, I do not want to fixate on how I look. I don’t want to do that to my inner child. One day when I have children, I want them to look at me and comprehend the emotion on my face thanks to my lines and dimples. If I have a daughter, I want her to see that I didn’t dramatically change anything about myself, so she won’t ever feel the need to do the same.

This isn’t really a new conversation, but every year we see an updated figure demonstrating how botox injections have significantly increased. So, we must question: do we want this cycle of anti-ageing to continue generation after generation? Or can we aspire to break it?

Lucinda Price aka “Froomes” spoke boldly to this very question in her book All I ever Wanted Was to Be Hot, in which she candidly shares her personal journey with cosmetic procedures as a young woman. It’s an important read, but for me, it was her short documentary on ABC’s Race Around The World in Los Angeles that brought me to tears. I cried watching a plastic surgeon tell her how he can improve her facial features:

“I can make the lips a little bit fuller, make the nose a little bit more straight, lift the eyes a little bit - open up the eyes a little bit more. The jaw is beginning to show a little bit of jowling. I will just lift everything up,” he said.

The price of these procedures? USD $40,000, every three to four years.

Froomes sat down with Heidi Clements, a pro-ageing influencer for the documentary. She shared how she felt shame whether she chose to go down the route of gracefully ageing or anti-ageing.

“The shame part is the beauty industry - they make you feel ashamed, they started promoting products by pitting old women against young women. You don’t want this. This is ugly. This is an old witch,” Heidi told her.

The conversation between Heidi and Froomes was private, however, it belonged to everyone, including me. Heidi’s words hit hard:

“That’s what upsets me about all of this. What we are doing to women. We are making you think you have to cut yourself up, put things in your body to find your place in the world. What you look like is the least interesting thing about you.”

Now that I’m an adult, I appreciate so much more what the people around me are doing, not what they look like. I am in awe of the good in them. The women in my life are funny, intelligent and creative. They are compassionate and loyal friends. They have minds that allow them to work extremely hard, own small businesses and be politically engaged. Some of them have bodies that enable them to dance, rock-climb, surf, and run. I have friends and family members who are so strong they have pushed a literal human being out of them.

The bottom line is, humans are capable of so many incredible things, especially women.

So, let me emphasise: how you look is the least interesting thing about you.

It’s a profound point that we should remind the people in our lives, but more importantly, we must remind ourselves.

About the author

Bernadette Clarke is a Digital Journalist at Cheek Media. As a third-culture kid, she is passionate about writing from a Filipina-x-Aussie lens. Bernie, as we more affectionately call her, is also an avid ocean-lover who grew up in a small coastal town, so she is committed to reporting on regional affairs and the effects of climate change.

Hello, happy Saturday, and welcome to another edition of The Week With Cheek.

The AI talk has continued into this week, and for those of us in Australia, the bad headlines keep coming.

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