Alongside the poem, a woven mat was unfurled at the front of a room. Symbolising a gesture carried across oceans, this Pacific tradition marked an invitation to step onto shared ground.
We had gathered to attend a two-and-a-half-day retreat led by the ResourceFULL Collective, and co-hosted by Red Rocketship Foundation and Urgent Action Sister Funds. ‘I have a daughter. When I die, I want there to be zero dollars in my bank account. What I want her to inherit is a safer world.’
Only days out from the beginning of Women Deliver 2026, the biggest gender equality convening in the world, a diverse group of leaders were invited to mobilise around the theme of Nurturing the Va and Changing the Current.
On the first night, as we gathered around one long dinner table, we shared stories, laughter, and reflections on the people who shaped us. In a time marked by growing division, political polarisation and shrinking spaces for genuine dialogue, there was something quietly powerful and unique about movement leaders, government representatives, philanthropists and intermediaries all taking their place at the same table – not to debate one another’s legitimacy, but to explore what is possible when we choose relationality over division.
Over two and a half days, participants co-designed responses to how Indigenous resurgence can reshape philanthropy and development, how accountability can extend beyond institutions to communities and future generations, how governments, philanthropy and movements can better collaborate, and how care, political education, trust, and abundance can sustain lasting change in the Pacific and Asia.
As one participant reflected on the final day, ‘I have a daughter. When I die, I want there to be zero dollars in my bank account. What I want her to inherit is a safer world.’
By asking difficult questions together, we were not simply analysing crises, but more pressingly, building the clarity, courage and collective imagination needed to shape what we leave behind for future generations.
Too often, the Oceanic Pacific is left out of global conversations where crises are named. This trend is puzzling, considering both the vulnerability and blazing resistance of the people and communities that make up this overlooked region.
As outlined on day one, gender-based violence remains at record levels across Pacific Island Countries. Women and gender-diverse people are disproportionately affected by climate change, with rising seas threatening freshwater, housing, and the survival of low-lying atoll nations. Across these Island States, LGBTQIA+ communities continue to face criminalisation and exclusion, while women’s political representation is the lowest in the world.
In Australia, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities continue to be the most incarcerated people in the world, land and sea rights have yet to be recognised and returned, while colonial legacies fuel chronic illness, family violence and poverty.
And yet, the Pacific is one of the most underfunded regions in relation to gender equality, with only 0.2 percent of global grant funding ending up in the hands of Pacific women’s organisations. In Australia, less than 0.5 percent of private philanthropic funding is directed to First Nation’s communities.
These crises continue against a backdrop of funding inertia. Foundations, many noted, appear frozen, waiting, perhaps, for a single brave peer to move first and prove that bold funding is still possible.
An intersectional lens shows how these forces overlap and affect each of us, even across borders. Gender equality cannot be separated from racism, colonisation, economic inequality, and climate change. At a time when funding is under pressure and growing community needs, we gathered to co-conspire how best to respond.
On a crisp first morning, participants formed a circle as a Dja Dja Wurrung Traditional Owner welcomed us to Country. As we bent down to let the smoke wash over our bodies, it became clear that the ceremony marked both an entry point and an invitation into co-responsibility.
Despite the imposition of colonial borders, Indigenous relationships across Oceania have never been fully contained. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders and Indigenous people from the Pacific share profound ancestral, historical, and contemporary ties, rooted in ancient migration pathways, pre-colonial trade networks and shared experiences of colonial violence.
‘My parent’s generation was the one to be punished for speaking their language at school’ shared one Pacific movement leader – a pattern that emulated the assimilation policies of white Australian colonisation.
But alongside shared experiences of colonisation, these communities also share experiences of cultural resurgence.
‘Revolution is happening forward and backwards’, shared one Pacific movement leader. ‘This is intergenerational work. There is a rush of possibility that I feel in our youth but also in our elders. We’re seeing things that they never thought was possible … my grandparents can see their grandchildren going to state funded school that teaches them their language.’
Alongside these discussions, calls grew for stronger networks between Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities and Indigenous Pacific Islanders. Ideas were spun through the room, including Indigenous-led regional governance, shared climate adaptation databases, language preservation platforms, and co-owned intellectual property funding models.
But self-care is also about naming the power structures and privilege that continue to deem some bodies worthy of rest at the expense of others.
