‘One of the older men catcalled me’: new research reveals the RSL’s woman problem

Imagine serving your country overseas, returning home and feeling unwelcome in the very place meant to support you.

That’s what happened to a 44-year-old Australian Army officer who attended a local Returned and Services League (RSL) lunch while on leave.

She recalls:

One of the older men catcalled me – when I raised it with the president, he dismissed it as “boys will be boys”. As a still-serving commissioned officer, it was deeply upsetting. I never returned.

Her story is far from unique.

Our research from the Open Door Initiative at Flinders University reveals many women feel unwelcome in RSL spaces. Some leave. Others never join.

Women describe subtle but persistent exclusion. One said:

It’s not for younger vets, especially those who still work or have a family.

Another nicknamed her local RSL, dominated by older male veterans from the Vietnam War era, a “Vietnam veteran club”, closed off to women and younger members. There she found walls lined with portraits of men in uniform, sexist jokes left unchallenged, and questions about the legitimacy of women veterans’ medals.

The RSL’s recent struggles

After years of falling membership and sub-branch closures, the RSL is at a crossroads.

Founded in 1916 to support soldiers returning from the first world war, it offered camaraderie, assistance and a way back into civilian life. Today, 1,095 RSL sub-branches remain, barely half the number from its peak in 1946.

Known for mid-week lunches, cheap drinks and Anzac Day services, the organisation was built by men, for men – a culture that still shapes how many sub-branches look, feel and operate.

Fewer than 10% of the veteran population in some states choose to join their local RSL. In many branches nationally, non-veteran members now outnumber those who have served.

Yet many veteran men still resist making space for women or younger veterans. One male interviewee told us bluntly: “I don’t think we should change our traditions to accommodate [these] veterans”.

Sometimes exclusion is more direct.

Sarah Case, a former sub-branch president in Queensland, recalled being labelled “a real bitch” by male branch members, adding:

It’s typical of the experience of being a woman, a woman with a brain who’s prepared to stand up for herself.

Deborah Langford, another woman veteran on a sub-branch committee in regional Victoria said:

I’m here but I’m not heard.

Deeper issues

These issues shouldn’t surprise. The RSL draws its members from the Australian Defence Force, where women have long reported sexism, harassment and inappropriate behaviour.

Media reporting continues to highlight how entrenched these problems remain. It’s no surprise those dynamics often carry over into veteran spaces.

Read more: 'Survival sex', 'mob justice' and more: the first independent study of abuse in the Australian Defence Force is damning

Many RSL branches feel frozen in time: beers, bingo and military banter. But younger veterans, especially women, are juggling work, families and the long-term impacts of service, including trauma. They need safe, inclusive spaces and real support.

For women who have served, especially those who experienced harassment or assault during service, traditional RSL environments can feel unsafe.

One veteran said:

Going into an RSL space where there are older male veterans can be challenging. Feeling safe is really important.

Small victories and further opportunities

Some branches are starting to shift and even small changes can have a real impact.

One woman veteran in Queensland described the support she received from her state branch as “faultless”, though she said it was only possible because she was supported by one of the few women advocates on staff.

At a Queensland sub-branch, Melissa Bishop, a veteran and newly appointed committee member, fought to move meetings to weekends so people with jobs and families could take part.

One woman veteran described it as “the first time I’d felt like someone had thought about veterans like me.”

These are modest, hard-won changes, but scattered progress alone won’t undo generations of exclusion.

Last year, the Royal Commission into Defence and Veteran Suicide recommended creating a national body to better govern the veterans’ non-profit sector.

This presents a real opportunity to modernise veteran support. But without a strong focus on gender inclusion and cultural reform from the start, history may repeat, entrenching the same exclusions that have kept so many women veterans on the margins for decades.

Women are not asking for special treatment. They are asking for veteran spaces that recognise their service, value their contributions and meet their needs.

That means flexible programs, trauma-informed care, peer support and family-friendly events.

The RSL now faces a defining choice: cling to outdated ideas or evolve into a space where all who have served feel they belong.

This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit, independent news organization bringing you facts and trustworthy analysis to help you make sense of our complex world. It was written by: Andrew Prevett, Flinders University and Ben Wadham, Flinders University

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Ben Wadham receives funding from DVA and the Australian Research Council. He is vice president of the Defence Force Welfare Association - SA (DFWA-SA).

Andrew Prevett does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.