Endless hours of campaigning: letterboxing, stalls, meeting the public. As someone running as a candidate for the first time, it is an exhilarating experience. I love hearing from other members of my community about what matters to them, what their challenges are, and what successes they're having. I also love helping amplify their voices this campaign, and making sure their issues are heard. My community in Moncrieff recently presented a petition to the ACT Assembly on a waste pit in our area (the government has yet to respond). However, there is a very clear downside to choosing to run for office, especially here in the ACT; and that is the financial and social cost of being a candidate.

Since announcing and publicising my campaign last July, I have had to move on from two full-time jobs, including in the public service, due to these places being uncomfortable with my candidacy. Places I have applied for work also have expressed concern, after Googling me and discovering I'm running for office. Despite clear rules about public servants being involved in campaign activity, many government workers are often scared to even get involved with a party due to the APS's inclination to say no by default, let alone to try running for office. This is damaging to our democracy.

The only way I have been able to work consistently for reasonable pay is as a contract labourer for a firm in Mitchell, clearing rubbish and unpacking pallets. It's tough work, but I enjoy it. My mental health has improved, and it's made me feel like I am contributing to something again. The people on site are also much more welcoming, appreciative, and honest than many of the other places I've worked, and I enjoy coming in every day, even if 7am starts are hard.

That said, the inability to find consistent, stable work while running as a candidate is something that has had a huge impact on me, and on my finances. I have had to dip significantly into my savings, and have taken on a housemate to help cover costs. I started my career at 21 with a university degree in environmental science. Now at 25 my political candidacy has proved an insurmountable barrier to work.

What this nine-month journey of (un)employment has revealed to me is that it takes a lot to run for public office in Australia: time, money and, most importantly, privilege. To run for office you need to be privileged with regards to your finances, your social life and your career. Lacking privilege in any one of these areas as a candidate means you're more likely to suffer, and less likely to want to run for office (or win). And even then, like me, there is no guarantee you won't end up losing your career.

The average age of a member of Federal Parliament is around 51 years old, but the median age of Australia is 37, and this says a lot. Young people are far less likely to own a home, to have full-time secure employment, or to have the kind of finances needed to run for office. What this means is we're simply less likely to see young people on our ballot papers. No wonder young people in this country are "turning their backs" on politics. We need more of them in politics, and we need more people from marginalised communities, especially First Nations. But why run when the cost is so high?

Running for office should be easier for everyone, but also more normalised. People and businesses should see someone nominating as a candidate as the act of public service that it is, not as a burden. Elections should also be better funded, so that candidates with financial hardship can be more supported. I love my job as a day labourer, but I shouldn't be forced into it simply because I want to represent my community.