These aren’t abstract concerns. As AI tools grow more accessible and powerful, they are already being used to simulate and violate intimacy without consent. In New Zealand, MP Laura McClure recently demonstrated in parliament how easily deepfake images can be generated. In under five minutes, she created a nude image of herself using a publicly available AI platform. As a woman in a position of power, she wanted to raise the alarm on this situation but sadly, even women with power are not immune. In 2024, Fiji’s Minister for Women, Lynda Tabuya was dismissed after intimate footage reportedly stolen from her phone was circulated online. Despite being the victim of a privacy violation, she was asked to step down from her position.
This shrinking room for women to simply exist without appeasing misogyny is now extending beyond the symbolic and into the structural. A recent report from the International Labour Organisation found that women’s jobs are nearly three times more vulnerable to displacement by AI than men’s, particularly in high-income economies where women are overrepresented in clerical and administrative roles. Besides amplifying conditions of harm, AI is making women economically expendable.
What connects these seemingly disparate examples from tech-facilitated murders to artificial girlfriends to structural job losses is the role of AI in systematically eroding women’s ability to assert boundaries.
Arguably, one of the reasons why most AI in its current form doesn’t serve women is because women comprise only 22 per cent of the global AI workforce. Their presence in leadership roles is even lower, sitting at 14 per cent. This suggests that AI design reflects narrow perspectives, inattentive to structural or ethical asymmetries. When women’s voices are absent from design, their needs are absent from the output. The result is a technological environment in which gendered harms remain unaddressed and replicated at scale.
There is growing social anxiety around these developments in Australia evident in petitions calling for the outright ban of companion AI for minors. Not all AI is harmful, of course. As the eSafety Commissioner suggests, some bots offer legitimate support for tutoring or mental health. But where bots are designed to simulate intimacy, automate consent, and reward dominance, we must proceed with particular caution.
Australia banned deepfakes in 2024, certainly a welcome development, but punitive measures alone cannot reconstitute cultural norms. AI systems whether through companion bots or image-generation tools are not neutral. They encode and reproduce the asymmetries of the societies from which they emerge. They mirror demand and marginalise dissent, rendering women’s non-consent not only inconvenient but offensive.
Whether Australia should ban AI companions or contain the growth of an AI intimacy industry is ultimately a policy decision that should be informed by wide consultation with psychologists, educators, and rights advocates. But women’s voices must be central in that conversation. What is already clear is that we have not yet secured children’s and women’s safety in the physical world. What confidence do we have that we can do better in the virtual one?
There is still time to ask difficult questions about the kinds of systems we allow to become normal and whether our governance mechanisms are strong enough to withstand their consequences. And whether, in doing so, we can reclaim space for women to refuse what makes them uncomfortable – and to do so without fear.