Self-identified feminist Nell Morris-Dalton isn't afraid to say what she thinks.
Earlier this year, the Western Bulldogs' sixth AFLW season was derailed by the pandemic. So many players caught COVID that for two weeks running, the Dogs were unable to field a team. To make up for it, the part-time athletes would eventually play seven games in 30 days, travelling to four different states.
One of the games missed was the much-anticipated Pride Game against Carlton, an occasion the two clubs pioneered.
"[Not being able to play the Pride Game] is devastating and a reminder of the inequalities that still persist in our league compared to the AFLM," Morris-Dalton wrote on her Instagram account at the time.
"Last year the men's competition didn't get to see any games missed. They were placed in a secure hub on Queensland's Sunshine Coast. This guaranteed that there was virtually no interruption to their season, or the integrity of the men's game."
By contrast, hubs were ruled out for AFLW, given most players balance careers outside of football, many in industries that put them at further risk of exposure.
"Initially I was intimidated to use the platform I have," Morris-Dalton tells the ABC.
"But with gender equality stuff, I was having so many conversations with people that weren't being shared, like about how much we get paid, and how many hours we do, and people are always shocked.
"The only way we can see change is if people are educated on the reality of what's happening, so I took it upon myself to be the one to speak out."
'I've never felt more exhausted in my life'
As a nurse, the COVID post was close to Morris-Dalton's heart.
At the height of the pandemic, the 21-year-old worked 800 placement and training hours at the Royal Melbourne Hospital, all the while avoiding infection in an attempt to keep the AFLW season — and most importantly, her patients — alive.
But while AFLW players are often lauded for such extraordinary feats, Morris-Dalton wants to see a shift in discourse.
"Currently I have been working two jobs: nursing and footy," she wrote in another Instagram post, this one from August.
"This consists of 16 hour days on my feet. I am regularly praised for this effort and told it's incredible, however we need to start changing the conversation and recognising how wrong it is that as female athletes we have to do this."
Morris-Dalton has never had the luxury of focusing purely on football. She has been on the competition's minimum wage since her debut in 2020.
Last season she was on a wage of $20,239. This year, it has increased significantly to $39,184 thanks to a new Collective Bargaining Agreement (CBA).
But Morris-Dalton continues to struggle to find a balance between the competing demands in her life, this year more than ever.
Season six was played in AFLW's regular time of year: early summer. But when the league announced that season seven would be pulled forward to August, just four months after the grand final, Morris-Dalton's plans were thrown into disarray.
Having finished her nursing degree — which she completed full-time over the last few seasons — she is now doing what's known as a graduate year, which means she works full-time as a nurse, under supervision.
Morris-Dalton had a choice of when to start — and chose the end of season six, in March this year. Little did she know that one month later, she would be in the midst of another pre-season.
"It threw my whole life out," she says.
"I was trying to make it work as best as possible. When I chose March, I was hoping to have six months to find my feet in nursing. I thought, 'footy will come around again, but I'll be comfortable in my role, have strong connections and relationships at the hospital, I'll be used to the workload.'"
She had also earmarked a much-needed break to go travelling with friends. The 12-month plan, she says, made the daunting schedule feel more "do-able".
Instead, she found herself doing night shifts in the middle of pre-season, working from 9pm until 7:30am.
"Night shift is such a hard rhythm to get into," Morris-Dalton says.
"I really struggled to sleep, so I'd come home, sleep for like, three hours, then do an 11km running session at training, go back to work and be on my feet all night.
"I've never felt more exhausted in my life. I was sick all the time and I couldn't recover properly because I wasn't sleeping. I can't even explain how bad it felt on my body."
Morris-Dalton contemplated quitting nursing
The pre-season situation was so untenable, Morris-Dalton knew something had to change.
"I went in very ambitious and hopeful it could work, but it became evident very early on that I just couldn't get out of myself what I wanted," she says.
"You're so emotionally drained, it was just like this constant level of fatigue I couldn't recover from fully. That was kinda the tipping point for me to be like, I can't work and do footy any more."
Morris-Dalton briefly considered walking away from nursing, but says she knew it wasn't going to be financially viable. Instead, she had an important conversation with the education team at the hospital.
"They were so lovely, I can't thank them enough," she says.
"I just wasn't coping, so they let me reduce my hours, which normally you aren't allowed to do in your grad year."
They also allowed her to put a hold on doing night shifts, something she has mixed feelings about.
"Just being able to sleep has been huge, being able to rest more has made such a difference," she says.
"It's definitely a shame having to reduce my hours (though), because I really do love both my jobs. It's just another example of us having to choose between careers, and put one in front of the other at all times.
"That's another stressor, dealing with your employer outside of footy. I spent so much time in my manager's office with all of this.
"You feel like a burden because you want to do your best, but you're constantly asking for special consideration."
The 'trauma' of getting dropped
Such a gruelling experience has inevitably had an impact on Morris-Dalton's form this season.
"That's the hardest part for me to accept," she says.
"I went into this year wanting to have a huge year, perform really well, and make a statement that I could be a big player in the competition."
Golden opportunities had also presented in the Bulldogs' forward line, with spearhead Bonnie Toogood departing for Essendon and Izzy Huntington for the Giants.
In round one, Morris-Dalton had 11 disposals in the Bulldogs' win over the Giants, but was dropped for the following two games against the Dockers and Port.
It compounded the emotional distress of her pre-season.
"Getting dropped is so traumatic," she says.
"I go through every emotion. I'm angry, upset, triggered, it's never-ending. Everyone asks why you're not getting a game, and then you've got to go to training and be the happiest and the best.
"But I have to snap out of it quickly, because at the end of the day, it's not my full-time job and I can't let it define my life outside of footy.
"It's so hard, and it's such an unspoken part of the game — outsiders never consider the impact. Each week there's eight other girls who are doing everything to get a game but not getting picked. Now when I'm in the team, I just feel so much for them."
Being a role-model for young girls gives Morris-Dalton purpose
Despite how hard some aspects of her footy journey have been, Morris-Dalton has never considered walking away from the game.
"Footy's the thing that gives me the most purpose," she says.
"I didn't have women footballers as role-models when I was younger, and now I get to be one of them, which is pretty wild."
Over the last couple of years, she says, the "enormity" of what it means to be one of the first generation of AFLW footballers has started to sink in.
"It's small things, like a young girl recognising you and seeing the excitement in their faces," she says.
"It's a weird, bittersweet feeling, like woah I wish I had had that, but then I think about the indirect impacts it'll have on them — whether they want to play footy or not, in their head they know they can do it.
"They can look at people of their own gender on TV. For me, that's such a big part of why, for all the hardship it takes, I've pushed through to stay in this competition."
Morris-Dalton also wants to keep using her platform to ensure improved outcomes for future generations of girls and women.
For this she takes inspiration from mum Sandra, who is an outspoken advocate for gender equity. In their household, says Morris-Dalton, conversations about feminism were "natural".
"People have this stereotype of feminism as some aggressive thing, but that's sexism in itself," she says.
"I think it's because of the whole 'women shouldn't speak up, it's not pretty' thing.
"I couldn't care less about those men who are out there trolling us because they are scared of women. They're just scared of losing their power.
"Mum was definitely a huge role-model for me, having that kind of person in my life who didn't back down from confronting things. It encouraged me to speak out for other people too."
'Speaking out' the path to changed conditions
In the lead up to the most recent CBA negotiations, for example, Morris-Dalton was heavily invested in the process of ensuring a better pay deal for the players that recognised the amount of unpaid work they were doing.
An AFLPA survey from earlier in the year found that many players were doing 50-100 per cent in excess of their contracted hours, a situation she describes as "degrading" and "belittling".
But thanks to a 94 per cent pay rise this season, Morris-Dalton says conditions are "far better" and that her club, the Bulldogs, have ensured the players aren't working beyond their contracted hours.
She is also buoyed by the number of her peers who are starting to speak their minds, Morris-Dalton style.
"The younger the competition gets, the more unapologetic people coming through get," she says.
"When I first got to the club I was a bit shocked that there was a divide between some of the players who wanted to be grateful for what we had, and others who wanted to speak up.
"I think that has totally changed now. The players are spurred on by seeing the changes that have happened. People have realised that through speaking up, and being feminists, that's when you see change."
