‘It took me decades to realise’: An Australian of the Year’s advice to teen girls

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Georgina Long. The professor is co-medical director of Melanoma Institute Australia. She is 2024’s Australian of the Year, a title she shares with fellow melanoma researcher Richard Scolyer.

“I grew up in the ’80s and it took me decades to realise, ‘Actually, I have great ideas.’Credit: Tim Bauer

BODIES

You’re fair-skinned. Is there a personal dimension to your work because you’re aware of your own susceptibility to sun damage? No. But my mother was in public health, so public health issues were a big thing for us. In the ’80s, there was the “Kiss a Non-Smoker, Enjoy the Difference” campaign. My parents gave each of their six kids a T-shirt with that slogan on it. The other big public health message at the time was, of course, “Slip, slop, slap”. Melanoma is Australia’s cancer; we have the highest incidence in the world. My drive is to make a difference.

What strikes you more about the human body – its fragility or its resilience? I focus on the resilience. I’m so inspired by all the patients I treat. A lot of my patients come in with scars because they’ve had lots of skin cancers cut out. Thirty or 40 years ago when you had a melanoma, you used to have surgeries where you might take out the whole strip of skin between two lymph nodes. That changed to maybe a very big scar with one- to two-centimetre margins. But now what we see is less surgery.

Is it true that outside of work, you race in triathlons? Yes. The great thing about it is, it gives me a goal. I love a goal! And I’m going to the world championships this year.

That’s wild. The Australian of the Year … also representing Australia in sport?
And I’m the flag-bearer with my colleague!

Wow. Any other secret skills?
[Grins] I’m a hard-ass skier.

DEATH

A generation ago, stage-four melanoma was a death sentence. Now, more than 50 per cent of stage-four melanoma patients survive. How do you reflect on that? It’s monumental; it’s had a massive impact on other cancers. The drugs that were developed for melanoma – immunotherapies, specifically checkpoint inhibitors – have absolutely revolutionised cancer treatment. And it all started with melanoma. Now it’s impacted lung cancer, head and neck cancers, bladder cancer. In fact, checkpoint inhibitors are now the most widely used cancer drug.

Your goal is to have zero deaths from melanoma. Could that be a reality within your lifetime? Only if we put our foot on the pedal with prevention, too. More than 95 per cent of skin melanomas in this country are caused by UV. We can achieve it if we push against the glamorisation of tanning and for sun safety in sports. At the same time, roughly 45 per cent of people with stage four melanoma will not survive. Which means a substantial proportion of the people you treat die.

How has that made you think about death in general?
There is a very small number of patients who’ve never considered their own mortality and they’re actually the toughest. The most important thing for me is giving them hope and making their journey as stress-free as possible. If I were diagnosed with cancer right now, I think I’d be using a bit of denial myself, clinging to any hope that I’m given, and putting one foot in front of the other. That’s certainly how I approached it when my close colleague [Richard Scolyer] was diagnosed [with brain cancer]. I wanted to give him hope.

In your joint speech at the Australian of the Year ceremony, Richard said, “I’m only 57. I don’t want to die.” What was it like for you to stand beside him as he said that? I could feel everyone’s response to it: that visceral response and the sadness as well. But for me, as an oncologist, facing mortality is what I do every day. For me, it doesn’t have that same impact.

It’s not novel for you. It’s not. Death is what unites us. You’re going to die one day. I’m going to die. Everyone is. And none of us wants to.

What do you want your legacy to be? To have thought outside the box, made a difference and pushed boundaries. To have thought of many, not just an individual, and to have shown that women can do this.

SEX

Your parents worked in health and science. I assume sex wasn’t a taboo subject growing up? Sex was discussed openly. STDs were discussed openly. I’m the fifth of six children.

So sex was obviously being had in your house. [Laughs, nods] My mum was actually the one who came to my high school with the banana and condom.

Wait, your mother was the person who delivered sex ed in your school? She wasn’t the sex educator, but because she’s in public health, they invited her to come and do it.

Were you mortified or proud? Proud!

You’re a role model, especially for young women in STEM. What advice do you have for them, especially if they’re about to enter a male-dominated field? My one thing would be to say, “You’re creative, you have fantastic ideas and don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.” I grew up in the ’80s and it took me decades to realise, “Actually, I have great ideas.” I really didn’t believe that. They’ve done studies on this. Girls and boys believe themselves to be equal at the age of three. As soon as they become socialised, they receive two messages: “Boys are geniuses; girls work hard.” It’s so not true. When Richard [Scolyer] was in Poland and had his seizure, a lot of the men around me – when I first started proposing [unconventional immunotherapy treatment] – said, “Don’t do it.” Guess who lit up and went, “Yes!”? The women.

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