IWD 2018 was a day I will never forget.

Bit of a vulnerable longer read, hope you enjoy!

It was the day I felt the full force of the gender pay gap, one I thought I'd escaped by choosing the freelance life.

It all started a few weeks before...

I was a freelance graphic designer for a recruitment agency, often sent to different businesses to help with design overflow. In my recruiter’s words, I was their best recruit. The fixer. The one they sent when they wanted to make a good impression. Hair toss.

This placement had landed me in a housing business head office—you know, one of those house-and-land package places. The creative team? All women. The work? Exactly the kind I thrive in.

They loved me. Like, LOVED me.

So much so that they offered me a permanent role after freelancing there a few months. The money was decent. But with a 45-minute commute and a $30-a-day toll, I decided to pass, opting instead to stay on while they found my replacement.

And then they found someone—through the same recruitment agency I was part of. And they asked me to train him for the role I’d been doing.

Did I think it was odd? Sure. But people pleaser Jaz said, “No worries, happy to help.”

Then, on International Women’s Day, we both got our payslips. And I noticed something that made my blood boil.

He was being paid a whole $8 an hour more than me.

To do the same job.

You know, the one I was TRAINING HIM to do...

Which might not sound massive at first glance, but that’s $266 extra per week. An extra $1,000 a month.

My stomach dropped. I felt the heat rush to my face.
I carefully crafted three paragraphs of professional pissed off and hit send to my recruiter.

They called me within minutes.

"We would never undervalue your talent"

"He's used to a higher rate"

"We don't control the budgets of the businesses who hire freelancers"

I still get mad thinking about it.

I chose freelancing to take back control. To escape the limitations of traditional employment. And yet, there I was—right back in that same powerless position.

I wish I could tell you they raised my rate.
​They didn’t.

But from that day forward, I told them if they were going to keep sending me out on underpaid jobs, they weren’t getting what was truly valuable—my genius.

And looking back at those pay slips? The rate I accepted for so long was embarrassingly low. I cannot believe I kept saying yes.

Maybe it was the illusion of stability.​
Maybe it was fear of saying no.​
Maybe I thought if I worked hard enough, they’d reward me and make it right.
Or maybe… deep down, I believed they knew best. That their rate was my worth.

Yesterday, the Guardian published an article revealing that Australian women earn nearly $30k less than men per year.

A follower of mine sent it to me and asked, “Is this true for freelancers too?”

The answer? Yes, and in many ways, it’s even worse.

Freelancers aren’t handed a salary or rulebook on what to charge; we have to put a price on our own expertise. But so many of us—especially women—instinctively undervalue our work.

We position ourselves as helpers rather than authorities.
We hesitate to push back on lowball offers.
We worry about being “too much” when negotiating or selling.
We price to be liked instead of pricing for what value we bring.

And here’s the thing—I don’t have all the answers. I can’t fix this overnight.

But what I can do?

Give you the permission slip I wish someone had given me.

🚨 You are allowed to charge more than you did yesterday. 🚨

If you’ve ever second-guessed your rate, hesitated to negotiate, or felt that pit in your stomach realising a male freelancer was making more for the same work—you’re not alone.

And I’d love to hear your story.

Hit reply and tell me—have you ever found yourself undercharging? Not pushing back? Stuck in the “be grateful for the opportunity” trap?

Because this? This is a conversation we need to keep having.

You and I deserve more than 87 cents on the dollar.