Grace Tame says her livelihood has been ‘completely destroyed’ in the month since she shouted ‘globalise the intifada’ at a pro-Palestine rally.
The former Australian of the Year penned a first-person piece for the Crikey website in which she claimed to have been the subject of a ‘concerted smear campaign’ by conservative politicians and media.
‘I do not support violence,’ she wrote in the piece published on Friday. ‘I do not condone antisemitism, Islamophobia or hatred of any kind.
‘I am a human rights activist who advocates for the safety of all children, no matter their background.’
Tame led chants of ‘globalise the intifada’ outside Sydney’s Town Hall in February at a rally protesting Israeli President Isaac Herzog’s state visit.
‘In the weeks following, countless headlines, opinion pieces, talk-show segments and radio interviews have been churned out, framing me as an antisemite and terrorist sympathiser who promotes violence,’ she wrote.
‘I’ve lost several close friends for speaking the truth. I’ve been publicly vilified over and over and over again. In under a month, my livelihood has been completely destroyed.’
Tame insisted she did not support violence or condone antisemitism, Islamophobia ‘or hatred of any kind’.
Grace Tame says her livelihood has been ‘completely destroyed’ in the month since she shouted ‘globalise the intifada’ at a pro-Palestine rally (above)
‘I shouldn’t have to say this, but I’m currently up against a well-oiled, well-funded political propaganda machine whose aim is to frighten everyone into complicity by maligning its critics,’ she wrote.
Tame, who is a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, previously revealed her lucrative speaking gigs had all but dried up in the wake of her appearance at the Town Hall protest.
The 31-year-old admitted during a speech at the No to Violence conference in Hobart on Thursday, she had no more speaking engagements for the rest of the year.
‘This is my last presentation of the year and it’s only March,’ she said.
Tame said she had lost ‘three speaking engagements on the theme of child safety due to an ongoing media smear campaign’.
The Daily Mail understands Tame charged about $20,000 per corporate speaking event, as of 2023.
After her comments were reported by the ABC, Tame took to Instagram to rip into the national broadcaster, accusing it of pandering to the ‘pro-Israel lobby’.
Tame has drawn condemnation from the Jewish community.
Tame (above) penned a first-person piece for the Crikey website in which she claimed to have been the subject of a ‘concerted smear campaign’ by conservative politicians and media
Her performance at the Herzog rally came two months after the December terrorist attack on a Hannukah celebration at Bondi Beach in which 15 people were killed.
Tame blasted the ABC on Thursday for singling out her comments about not supporting antisemitism.
‘We can always rely on our ABC for more lopsided reporting that preferences the pro-Israel lobby’s position ahead of everyone else’s,’ she fumed.
Tame accused the ABC of peddling ‘right-wing propaganda’ as she defended the ‘globalise the intifada’ chant.
‘Both intifadas began as peaceful protests, boycotts and labour strikes in response to Israel’s ongoing violent oppression,’ Tame wrote on Instagram.
‘Omitting this context erases history and Palestinians themselves. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but they sure do make right-wing propaganda.’
Tame faced calls to be stripped of her 2021 Australian of the Year honour in the wake of her speech at the Herzog demonstration.
Tame has revealed she has no more speaking engagements for the rest of the year, blaming it on a smear campaign. She is pictured at an International Women’s Day event on March 4
More than 25,000 Australians signed a petition calling for authorities to charge Tame with ‘[alleged] criminal incitement to violence under existing Australian law’.
‘We do not need new ‘hate speech’ laws, if the threshold for incitement has been crossed, current laws are sufficient,’ the petition stated.
‘In 2021, Grace Tame was named Australian of the Year, an honour reserved for individuals who reflect the values, unity and integrity of our nation.
‘That title carries moral weight. It is not just recognition for past advocacy, it represents an ongoing association with Australian ideals.’
Her appearance at an International Women’s Day event in Bendigo, Victoria, also came under fire from the Australian Jewish Association.
The group had lobbied for her to be dropped from the event but organisers refused to cave-in to pressure.
Last year, global sports brand Nike officially cut ties with Tame after she shared several posts in solidarity with Palestinians during the conflict with Israel.
‘Grace and Nike have mutually agreed to part ways,’ a Nike spokesman said.
‘We wish Grace the best as she continues her running journey.’
Tame is an ultra-marathon runner and was appointed as a brand ambassador by Nike at the start of 2025.
She shared a gushing message at the time, writing: ‘I couldn’t be more excited to announce that I am officially an ambassador for Nike.
‘This has been a long time in the making.’
The enthusiastic announcement of the Nike partnership, which Tame had described as a long-awaited milestone, now stands as a poignant marker of how quickly a public profile can shift in the volatile climate of contemporary Australian discourse. The “long time in the making” was undone in a matter of weeks, illustrative of a broader, more systemic vulnerability inherent in personal brand advocacy. When Nike confirmed they had “mutually agreed to part ways” with Tame, it was not merely a loss of a commercial contract; it was the symbolic withdrawal of mainstream corporate protection. This departure acted as a catalyst, signaling to other stakeholders that the association with Tame had crossed the threshold from “inspiringly provocative” to “reputationally hazardous.”
In the immediate wake of the Nike exit, the financial infrastructure supporting Tame’s advocacy began to dismantle with clinical efficiency. For a public speaker who had commanded fees upward of $20,000 per event, the sudden silence of the telephone was more than a professional slight—it was a crippling blow to the operational capacity of her mission. The cancellation of three major child safety presentations, as Tame noted, represents a significant loss of direct impact. These are not just missed opportunities for income; they are missed opportunities to influence policy and educate communities on the very issues that brought Tame to national prominence. The irony is profound: a woman celebrated for her courage in breaking the silence is now experiencing a forced silence imposed by the market forces of public opinion and corporate risk management.
Tame’s personal account in Crikey offers a window into the psychological toll of this rapid professional decline. She describes a “concerted smear campaign,” a phrase that resonates with many who feel the weight of what is often colloquially termed ‘cancel culture.’ However, Tame’s situation is more complex than a simple social media pile-on. It is a collision between the uncompromising nature of grassroots activism and the cautious, sanitised expectations of national representation. By choosing to lead the “globalise the intifada” chant, Tame stepped outside the carefully defined boundaries of survivor advocacy and into the highly combustible arena of international geopolitics. In doing so, she challenged the implicit contract between a public figure and the institutions that platform them—a contract that demands a level of predictable neutrality that Tame has consistently refused to provide.
The controversy surrounding the word “intifada” itself serves as a microcosm of the ideological divide currently fracturing Australian society. To Tame and her supporters, the term represents a historical tradition of civil disobedience and resistance against systemic oppression—a “truth-telling” that aligns with her lifelong commitment to standing up against abuse of power. On Instagram, she argued that omitting the peaceful origins of the intifadas—the strikes, the boycotts, the labour movements—is an act of historical erasure. To her critics, however, the word is inseparable from the trauma of violence and the loss of innocent lives, particularly within the context of the Jewish community’s lived experience. This linguistic impasse is where the “well-oiled political propaganda machine” Tame speaks of finds its most potent fuel. It is not just a fight over policy; it is a fight over the very meaning of words and the right to define them in the public square.
This tension reached a boiling point in her confrontation with the ABC. Tame’s accusation that the national broadcaster engaged in “lopsided reporting” to favour the “pro-Israel lobby” is a significant escalation. It suggests a deep-seated disillusionment with the very media institutions that once championed her cause. Her critique points to a belief that the mainstream media is no longer a neutral observer but an active participant in a “right-wing propaganda” effort to suppress dissenting voices. This alienation from the ABC is particularly significant given the broadcaster’s role as the primary conduit for national conversation in Australia. If Tame feels she can no longer trust or engage with the ABC, she is effectively forced into the periphery of independent media and social platforms, where the echo chambers are louder and the chances for cross-cultural reconciliation are slimmer.
The public reaction, manifested in the petition signed by over 25,000 Australians, adds a layer of democratic pressure to the situation. The demand to strip Tame of her 2021 Australian of the Year honour touches on the fundamental nature of the award itself. Is the title a recognition of a specific period of extraordinary service, or is it a lifelong commitment to act as a unifying national symbol? The petition argues the latter, suggesting that Tame’s current actions are a betrayal of the “moral weight” and “Australian ideals” the title represents. This debate puts the authorities in a difficult position: to strip the award would be to succumb to political pressure and potentially silence a legitimate, albeit controversial, voice; to ignore the petition would be to dismiss the genuine concerns of a significant portion of the population who feel the title has been tarnished.
Amidst this storm, the core mission of child safety advocacy is at risk of being obscured. Tame’s work has always been about the vulnerability of the innocent, yet the current discourse is dominated by the complexities of international conflict and the nuances of hate speech laws. The loss of her speaking engagements in Bendigo and other regional centres means that the message of child protection is failing to reach the audiences that need it most. When corporate Australia retreats from a figure like Tame, they are not just protecting their brand; they are inadvertently withdrawing support from the vital social causes she represents. This is the collateral damage of the “destroyed livelihood” Tame laments—the children who might have been helped, the laws that might have been changed, and the survivors who might have found their own voices through her platform.
Looking ahead, the path for Grace Tame is fraught with uncertainty. At 31, she is far from retiring from public life, yet the traditional avenues for her advocacy are closing. The “propaganda machine” she identifies is, in her view, designed to “frighten everyone into complicity,” and her response has been one of increased defiance rather than retreat. This suggests that the remainder of 2025 and the years beyond will see Tame operating as an independent, perhaps even more radicalised, voice on the fringes of the Australian mainstream. Without the constraints of corporate sponsorships or the expectations of national awards, she may find a new kind of freedom—but it is a freedom that comes at a massive personal and professional cost.
The Australian public is now left to grapple with the aftermath of this controversy. It serves as a stark reminder of the volatility of fame and the narrow path that activists must walk when they are elevated to the status of national icons. Whether Grace Tame is remembered as a hero who stayed true to her convictions regardless of the cost, or a cautionary tale of how inflammatory rhetoric can dismantle a legacy, depends largely on which side of the ideological divide one stands. What is certain, however, is that the conversation about free speech, corporate responsibility, and the true meaning of “Australian ideals” has been permanently altered by her actions. The “globalise the intifada” chant was not just a moment of protest; it was the beginning of a new, much more difficult chapter in the life of a woman who refuses to be anything other than herself, even if it means losing everything she worked to achieve.
The collapse of her corporate speaking gigs—specifically those themed around child safety—raises a final, haunting question about the priorities of our society. Are we so preoccupied with the optics of political alignment that we are willing to sacrifice the progress made in protecting our most vulnerable citizens? Tame’s empty calendar is a testament to a system that prioritizes brand safety over social impact. While she continues her “running journey” without Nike, the rest of the nation must decide if they are willing to continue the journey of child safety reform without the woman who, for a time, was its most powerful and persuasive voice. The destruction of a livelihood is a personal tragedy, but the potential stalling of a national movement for justice is a collective failure that Australia may come to regret in the years to follow.
