'Before Julia there was Joan. And I was lucky to call her my friend.'

Joan Kirner was a hero of mine. And I was lucky enough to know her as a friend and mentor.

I met Joan long after she left politics. She had started an organisation called EMILY’s List, which brought together progressive Labor women who believed in increasing women’s representation and rights in Australia. I joined in my early 20s and became one of its office bearers for a time. EMILY’s List was a passionate project for Joan, one she didn’t need to embark on. She’d had her career and made her mark, but that wasn’t enough. She wanted to advance the cause of other women in politics.

Classic Joan. It wasn’t all about her.

Joan was a rare person in politics. She was a person I admired before I met her and admired even more after I got to know her.

I remember one of the visits to her offices in Spring St, Melbourne (ex-Premiers often get fancy offices once they leave politics). There was EMILY’s List merchanise - tshirts and badges and other stuff  - that needed to be sent off for a function. I watched as Joan got on the floor and started packing boxes. She must have been 60 at the time. I marvelled. I could imagine few male ex-Premiers doing the same.

Joan was elegant, powerful, funny and clever. She was a rare mix: both approachable and authoritative. Before Julia, there was Joan. When we would go walking on my visits to Melbourne, especially around her beloved suburb of Williamstown where she lived for so many years, we couldn’t walk a few metres someone saying ‘Good morning Joan’. She’d smile and say good morning. Then she’d turn to me, wink and joke: ‘No respect!’

She wasn't given the respect she deserved and she knew why.  But while she was always portrayed as the fat and frumpy house wife in polka dots, she was always elegant, strong and never lost her sense of humour.

That's why she did the 'I love Rock and Roll' performances - to turn the tables back on those who thought older women had no place in the corridors of power.

Joan was always pushing me to do more and be better. The few – very few I have to say – times she was mad with me, she showed just how to express disappointment without belittling or degrading someone. There was no yelling or insults. One time I had really screwed up and kept apologising to her about it. She said to me ‘Rebecca, say sorry once, mean it, correct it and move on’. I’ll never forget that lesson.

There are so many funny Joan stories it’s hard to recount all of them. My favourite isn’t one that belongs to me unfortunately but to my dear friend Emily, who worked for EMILY’s List for many years (Joan introduced us, she was always putting like-minded women together).

Emily and Joan were walking down the corridors of some government building one day and Joan broke into a run (well, a run for Joan) and then dived (kind of) into a lift and started pushing the close door button like mad, as if fleeing from a serial killer. Emily chased after her. When the doors slid shut she asked Joan, ‘why the rush?’ ‘I saw Jeff Kennett. Whenever he sees me he always wants to kiss me’.

I guess former male Premiers never have to worry about this. Joan may have disliked his politics and he was a fierce and often unfair political rival, but Joan always had a good word to say about his work for mental health issues in recent years. She was all class.

In 1999 Joan wrote The Women’s Power Handbook with her friend and colleague Moira Rayner. I still leaf through my copy regularly. The book taught me a lot and Joan taught me a lot about why women shouldn’t be afraid to be powerful, how that can attain, keep and use power. But Joan taught me one more important thing. That power is only important if you use it to help those people who don’t have it.

For Joan it wasn’t about how high you could climb but if you could pull people up with you. And make the climb easier for those coming after.

I saw Joan a few months ago. I extended a quick trip to Melbourne to see her. What I didn’t know at the time is that her cancer had returned. She didn’t moan about her health. She was frail but she still made me a cup of tea and apologised (only once) that the fruit cake was a bit dry. She was the Joan I knew and loved, full of insight about politics, praise and excitement about my kids, jokes about certain male Labor politicians (that I will take to my grave) and not an ounce of self-pity.

I loved her and I will miss her every day.

Like this? Why not try ...

Hillary Clinton is not perfect but she should be respected.

The most influential woman in the world isn’t a celebrity.