17cÆð²ÝÉçÇø

17cÆð²ÝÉçÇøIA+ people have always built businesses when doors are closed to us and created community resources when institutions failed us. We’ve alway found creative and radical ways forward when the old ones didn’t work for us. That spirit has continued on through generations, and this is exactly why Farz Edraki has been named the Media Disruptor at .

An Iranian-Australian writer, editor and broadcaster, Edraki has become one of the country’s most thoughtful voices on 17cÆð²ÝÉçÇøIA+ culture and identity. As the host of SBS’s , she has shone a spotlight on the rebels, activists and trailblazers whose courage has shaped Australia’s queer history, while her writing and editorial work continues to challenge the way stories about our communities are told.

More than just an awards night, The Glynn Legacy honours the people carrying Glynn’s disruptive legacy into a new generation. A fearless and often controversial figure, Glynn founded the Sydney Star (now yours truly, 17cÆð²ÝÉçÇø) alongside the Gay Business Association (now the ), helped establish the AIDS Action Committee, recruited athletes for the first Australian Gay Games and spent his life challenging the status quo.

Each year, the event in his honour recognises one leader in media and one in business whose work is reshaping Australia’s 17cÆð²ÝÉçÇøIA+ landscape. This year, Edraki joins Business Disruptor Anna Sheppard in continuing that tradition, celebrating not just where our community has been, but where it’s heading next.

A Q&A with Farz Edraki, the 2026 Glynn Legacy Media Disruptor

Can you tell us a little bit about who you are?

I was born in Shiraz, Iran and landed in Australia with my parents when I was three. We moved around quite a lot; I went to school in Brisbane, Deniliquin and Mildura and studied in Canberra.

It’s taken me a long time to figure out who it is I really am, and I suspect this is an ongoing project (fun!).

I now live in Sydney with my partner Tacita, two girls (one is three months and the other nearly three years) and dog. It’s strange to think my daughter is now nearly the same age I was when we first came to Australia.

If my friends had to describe me, they would probably mention something Shrek or Twilight related. Both, in my opinion, are quite queer coded.

And what do you do for work?

I’m a writer, editor, and podcast host/ producer. I’ve been lucky enough to have worked in different roles in the media: across radio, podcasting, TV, and digital. I was at the ABC for a decade, and in that time did everything from finding a lamb in a day for that evening’s skit (Tonightly) to meeting the stonemason at Parliament House (The House) to hosting a narrative storytelling program (Days Like These). These days (like these), I’m freelancing in audio and writing and doing a creative practice PhD. It’s a challenge and a privilege to have this time to think outside of the boundaries of a single institution, especially in this current climate.

How did it feel when you found out you’d been named a disruptor at this year’s Glynn Legacy event?

In a word: shocked. It’s a huge honour, and I feel incredibly privileged. I also want to acknowledge the team at Audiocraft who made Queer Renegades happen: in particular producer Laura Brierley Newton, EP Kate Montague and the SBS team. I’m really proud of the series and the way it spotlights queer legends (everyone from DJ Gemma to ballroom Father Xander Khoury to 78er Ken Davis to Dykes of Bikes president Kendal Walton). The biggest thing I took away from the series is the power of community – how queer people have lifted each other up throughout our history, and continue to do so. So, if I’m a disruptor, I’m not a disruptor in isolation. It’s thanks to a long line of disruptors who have paved the way.

The awards recognise “disruptors”. How do you feel about being called that?

I’ve grown up in different spaces where being a ‘disruptor’ was a bad thing, and being a ‘good migrant’ was something to strive towards. As a result, I’ve found myself trying to fit within the margins a lot of the time. It’s only in recent years that I’ve felt comfortable enough to step outside of certain self-imposed boundaries.

Being called a disruptor is an affirmation of this shift. The shy closeted brown girl of my youth would have been thrilled (and probably a little scared) to be called a disruptor.

When most people hear the word “disruption”, it may seem a little negative or chaotic. But “disruption” can mean very different in a professional setting: what does meaningful disruption actually look like in your industry?

Meaningful disruption is ongoing: it’s about continually doing the work. In particular, I’m emboldened by independent podcast hosts and producers who in my view are disrupting the traditional media landscape everyday (shout out to Lamestream and ETTE Media).

As 17cÆð²ÝÉçÇøIA+ people, do you think we’re still expected to fit into certain boxes in professional spaces? How have you navigated that?

When you enter a workplace, you’re always expected to fit within its boundaries. Some workplaces are better than others at recognising, and celebrating, difference. I feel really lucky to have worked in places where I have felt free to exist outside of the white heteronormative box – unless you count the brief stint I had in commercial radio straight out of university, which is a story for another time. The point being: workplaces are constructed realities and it’s up to us to redraw the boundaries of what is possible.

Have there been moments where you’ve challenged an accepted way of doing things and been told it couldn’t be done?

I’ll never forget a phone call I had as a junior digital journalist with a senior editor about an article where a key person profiled was non-binary. This editor had never had to deal with using they/ them pronouns in reference to someone’s quotes. I had to push back and gently suggest using the pronoun. I don’t blame the editor. They hadn’t faced that predicament before. But people in the media – editors especially – need to keep up with the times. Language is so important when it comes to recognising and empowering queer identities.

What barriers do queer people still face in media and business that perhaps aren’t always obvious from the outside?

I can’t speak for everyone in the queer community – the 17cÆð²ÝÉçÇøIA+ flag is a big one – but in my experience, sometimes the biggest barrier is fighting for certain stories to be heard outside of Pride month or around Mardi Gras. These events and celebrations are a wonderful reminder of the resilience and hard-won battles queer people have fought over the years, yes, but I’d like to see more. Give grants to more events not just in March or June. Be brave and trust queer writers and producers, in TV writers’ rooms or podcast studios, to tell a good story. All year round.

Representation has improved in many ways over the past decade, but where do you think the biggest gaps still exist?

Meaningful representation needs to be sustainable. Don’t just put a queer person in a leadership role and make that role redundant in a year. Don’t make someone a spokesperson without being open to everything they have to say. Don’t commission what editors think straight audiences want to read about queer people; let queer people tell those stories, and support young writers to tell those stories well. I think mentorship in this respect is so crucial.

What role do visibility and authenticity play in leadership today?

They’re two big buzz words I struggle with at times, if I’m honest. I don’t think it’s enough to be ‘visible’ – visible to who? In what context? And for just a week? It’s not enough to just be a 17cÆð²ÝÉçÇøIA+ person who is ‘visible’ in the media leadership. You can be assigned a spokesperson and be platformed, yes, but are you helping to create spaces for other queers? Are you supporting your peers and people in your organisation? And are you helping people show up to work as their ‘true’ serves that’s not a version of performed identity? A lot of questions, but these are all important ideas we have to contend with.

For younger 17cÆð²ÝÉçÇøIA+ people looking at your careers and wondering if there’s a place for them in media or business, what would you tell them?

Your voice matters. Your experience matters. Don’t feel like you have to be the spokesperson for your generation. It’s not all on your shoulders.

If we were having this conversation again in five years’ time, what change would you hope to see in Australia’s media, business, and 17cÆð²ÝÉçÇøIA+ communities?

The dismantling of rights for trans people in Australia and around the world, especially trans youth, worries me. When we interviewed people for the Queer Renegades series, the topic constantly came up as a source of concern. It shouldn’t have surprised me, given what’s happening particularly in the U.S., but it did cement my worry. I hope that in five years, we’re in a better place, in recognising the rights and needs of trans and non-binary people. It’s not just about representation in the media; it’s about knowing that change doesn’t happen as a given – it’s something that has to be fought for.

Want to join us at The Glynn Legacy 2026?