'I was sexually harassed as a FIFO worker. That wasn't the worst part.'

When Brooke McIntosh entered the FIFO industry, she was prepared for the physical demands, long shifts and time away from home. 

What she wasn't expecting, was the amount of resilience she would need — not just to do the job, but to navigate the toxic culture.  

"I entered FIFO because I wanted to earn a good income and establish a stable career. The industry offered competitive salaries, and I saw it as a promising opportunity to gain financial independence and valuable skills," says Brooke. 

Watch: The Truth About Sexual Harassment. Article continues after the video. 

"I quickly learnt that being strong wasn't just about physical endurance but about mental toughness, standing up for myself, and pushing forward even when the environment around me felt against me.

Brooke knew FIFO was male-dominated, so she expected some outdated attitudes, but the brazenness and acceptance of the sexist behaviour took her by surprise. 

"I didn't realise how normalised and ingrained sexist behaviour was. I thought that if I worked hard and proved myself, I'd be treated with the same respect as everyone else."

It started on her first day on the job. Comments disguised as banter, remarks about how Brooke looked in her work gear or subtle jabs suggesting she wasn't cut out for the job. 

But then things escalated.

If her pants were slightly tight, men would comment on how "good" she looked, they told her to "go back to the kitchen".

"I remember reversing a truck when someone shouted, 'I'd like to see what else you could put in reverse.'"

When she spoke up, men became silent or excluded her from conversations.

"I thought I could just brush it off, but the constant negativity wore me down. It wasn't just the words. It was the feeling of being dismissed, of knowing that speaking up would only make me more of a target.

"It wasn't just me. Men were also subjected to degrading comments if they didn't fit the stereotype of what a 'real man' should be."

No matter how hard she worked, Brooke felt as though she was being disrespected, undervalued and judged. 

"It wasn't a rare comment here or there, it was a culture of belittlement and silence. The jokes, the remarks, the dismissive attitudes, they created a space where I, and so many others, felt we didn't belong."

But while the harassment made the Brooke feel disrespected, the silence of those around her made her feel invisible. 

"That was one of the hardest things to accept. I thought at least one person — especially those who disagreed with it — would step in. But no one did."

Eventually, Brooke began running as a way to escape. And while she did find solace in running, she couldn't escape, not really. 

Almost every time Brooke embarked on a run, she'd experience catcalling, honking and inappropriate remarks. 

She changed her routes, cut runs short and stopped wearing headphones in an effort to feel safe. 

Because, just like at her workplace, no matter how bad the harassment became, no one ever spoke up. 

At first, she tried to brush it off. She wanted to prove she was strong, that she could handle the pressure. 

"But after a while, I realised that silence wasn't strength. True strength was having the courage to speak up, not just for myself but for those who felt they couldn't."

When she finally did speak up at work, ten other staff members thanked her, but admitted they were too scared to say anything. 

"The standard you walk past is the standard you set, so allowing it means you accept it," she said. "If people had the courage to call it out on the spot, harmful comments would not escalate."

Having endured significant mental health lows, including suicidal ideation, Brooke decided to take her call for an end to bystander silence a step further than her own workplace. 

"I wanted to not just endure it but to rise above it. To take that experience and turn it into something bigger than myself."

So, she kicked off One More Conversation, an initiative enabling people to donate to support Brooke's mission to run 14,080km, around Australia to raise awareness and funds for mental health.

For 180 days, Brooke is running 80km a day, pushing her limits to start meaningful conversations and inspire change.

"It's not just about the distance or the challenge, it's about resilience. It's about pushing forward even when the odds are against you. It's about proving that our voices, our dreams, and our goals matter.

"This isn't just about FIFO. This is about workplaces everywhere, about women chasing their dreams, about men and women being able to speak up without being told to 'toughen up.' Every step I take in this run is a message to anyone who has ever felt like they weren't enough: You are enough. You are capable. Keep going.

"Running was my escape, but now it's my purpose. It started as a way to clear my head, but now it's my way of creating change. When we speak up, when we chase our dreams, when we refuse to be silent —we change the world.

"And that starts with just one more conversation."

Feature image: Supplied.