Sall Grover Fires Back at CPAC Brisbane, Reigniting Australia’s Culture Wars

BRISBANE, Australia — They tried to destroy her career, she said. They tried to silence her voice and dismantle everything she had built. And for a time, it seemed as though they had succeeded.

But on a sweltering Saturday afternoon at the Brisbane Convention and Exhibition Centre, Sall Grover stepped onto the stage at CPAC Australia 2025 and did what she has always done: she fired back.

The founder of the women-only social network Giggle, who has been at the center of a landmark legal battle over gender identity, sex-based rights, and digital speech, delivered a speech that has since ignited fierce debate across the country and sent shockwaves through Australian social media.

“They wanted me to disappear,” Grover told a standing-room-only audience of conservative activists, political figures, and free-speech advocates. “They wanted me to apologize, to retreat, to admit that I was wrong. But I am not wrong. And I will not disappear.”

The speech, which ran just under twenty minutes, was by turns defiant, personal, and unsparing. Grover detailed the legal battles, online harassment campaigns, and professional blacklisting that she says followed her decision to create a platform for women only — a decision that led to a high-profile discrimination lawsuit brought by a transgender woman who was excluded from the app.

That lawsuit, which concluded last year, ended in a mixed ruling. The court found that Grover had not unlawfully discriminated but also declined to endorse her broader arguments about sex-based rights. Neither side declared victory. But the personal toll, Grover told the CPAC audience, was immense.

“I lost friends. I lost business partners. I lost years of my life to legal fees and sleepless nights,” she said. “And for what? For saying that women deserve spaces of their own?”

The audience, which included former prime minister Tony Abbott, One Nation leader Pauline Hanson, and a delegation of conservative parliamentarians, responded with a standing ovation that lasted nearly a minute.

But outside the convention center, the reaction was very different. Protesters gathered in numbers, carrying signs reading “Trans Rights Are Human Rights” and “Grover’s Hate Has No Home Here.” Chants of “Shame, shame, shame” echoed across the street as police maintained a careful separation between the two groups.

“Her speech isn’t brave. It’s cruel,” said Ethan Zhang, a 24-year-old activist who traveled from Sydney to protest. “She built a platform designed to exclude a vulnerable minority. That’s not feminism. That’s bigotry.”

The dueling reactions encapsulate the fierce and unresolved debate that Grover has come to symbolize. For her supporters, she is a truth-teller willing to sacrifice her career for principle. For her critics, she is a figurehead of an anti-trans movement that cloaks exclusion in the language of women’s rights.

What is not in dispute is the impact of her CPAC appearance. Within hours, clips of her speech had been viewed millions of times across X, TikTok, and YouTube. The hashtag #IStandWithSall trended in Australia for more than twelve hours. So, too, did #TransRightsAreHumanRights.

“Sall Grover has become a Rorschach test,” said Dr. Amelia Cross, a political sociologist at the University of Melbourne. “What you think of her says more about you than it does about her. That is why she is so powerful — and so polarizing.”

Grover’s journey to the CPAC stage was anything but straightforward. After founding Giggle in 2019 as a “safe space for women to connect without male interference,” she found herself at the epicenter of a global debate over the meaning of sex and gender. The app’s policy of excluding transgender women — a policy Grover has defended as rooted in biological reality — drew swift condemnation from LGBTQ advocacy groups and praise from gender-critical feminists.

The legal battle that followed consumed three years of her life. Grover represented herself for much of that time, unable to afford the legal teams deployed by her opponents. She documented the process in excruciating detail on social media, building a devoted following even as she alienated others.

“The system is designed to break people like me,” she said in her CPAC speech. “It assumes that if you are not backed by a major organization or a wealthy patron, you will give up. I almost did. More than once.”

But she did not give up. And her appearance at CPAC — the Australian offshoot of the American conservative conference — signaled that she is not retreating from public life. If anything, she is expanding her footprint.

In recent months, Grover has launched a podcast, a newsletter, and a speaking tour. She has hinted at a book deal and has been approached by several right-leaning political parties about a potential candidacy. She has not ruled anything out.

“I’m not a politician,” she told the CPAC audience. “But I’m also not going to let politicians — or anyone else — tell me that I can’t speak the truth.”

That positioning has made her a coveted figure in Australia’s conservative movement, which has been searching for fresh voices capable of speaking to cultural issues without the baggage of older political figures.

“She’s authentic,” said James Patterson, a conservative commentator who introduced Grover at CPAC. “She’s lived it. She’s not reading talking points from a think tank. That’s why people trust her.”

But authenticity, in this context, is a double-edged sword. Grover’s unvarnished style — she has referred to her opponents as “bullies” and “censors” and has refused to moderate her language — has made her difficult to work with, even for some allies.

“She is not a team player,” said one conservative strategist who spoke on condition of anonymity. “She says what she wants, when she wants. That’s great for rallies. It’s less great for coalition-building.”

Grover herself seems untroubled by such assessments. “I didn’t start this fight to make friends,” she said in her speech. “I started it because someone had to.”

The CPAC speech also touched on broader themes beyond her personal story. Grover warned of what she called “the creeping erosion of free speech in Australia,” citing recent defamation cases, hate speech laws, and university censorship controversies. She called for a “new feminism” rooted in biological reality and dismissed mainstream feminist organizations as “captured by ideology.”

“Ask yourself why so many young women are afraid to speak,” she said. “Ask yourself why so many feminist leaders have abandoned the very idea of sex. And then ask yourself who benefits when women are silenced.”

The audience, again, rose to its feet.

But back outside the convention center, the protesters had not dispersed. As the sun set over Brisbane, the chants continued. And on social media, the debate raged on.

“Grover is not a victim,” read one widely shared post on X. “She is a perpetrator. She has made trans lives harder. She has given comfort to bigots. And she should not be celebrated.”

Another post, with thousands of likes, offered a different view: “Sall Grover said what millions of Australian women are thinking. The backlash proves her point. They really do want to silence her.”

Whether Grover will translate her CPAC moment into lasting influence remains to be seen. The Australian political landscape is crowded, and cultural flashpoints rarely determine election outcomes. But her ability to command attention — and to provoke intense reactions on all sides — suggests that she is not fading anytime soon.

“They tried to destroy her career,” Patterson had said in his introduction. “But she’s still here. And she’s not going anywhere.”

As Grover stepped off the stage and into the waiting arms of supporters, she allowed herself a small smile. The cameras followed her every move. The debates raged on.

She had fired back. And the internet, once again, was exploding.