By Roselyn Fauth
I never expected a lockdown walk through the cemetery to change the way I see myself, my community, and even the history of Timaru. But that’s exactly what happened.
Over lockdown, our family spent quite a bit of time at the cemetery. We’d find interesting graves, and I’d go home and start digging into their stories. That was the beginning of a rather random hunt for history — largely self-guided at first, with books that smelt of decaying animal glue and had been printed more than a hundred years ago.
As time went on, I reached out and learned more from others. And when I panicked that Facebook might one day delete my old posts, I began rewriting them as blogs. That’s when I realised something: most of the stories I’d been telling were about men. So my recent side quest has been to pull the women from the margins and bring them onto the page. To give them voice, visibility, and space. And by doing that, here’s what I have learned so far...
I’ve learned that women have carried families and communities through poverty, isolation, loss, and discrimination. There resiliance is really empowering. I’ve seen how women’s stories and achievements were often unrecorded or pushed aside, even though their presence shaped our town an and region just as much as the men.
These women have reinforced to me that small acts matter. Tending a garden, raising children, teaching, or volunteering may seem ordinary, but their work has created ripples that has impacted into the following generations. Some of these women found courage, to be loud and defiant, and sometimes their courage was needed to endure another day with ten children to feed.
History has also shown me how community can both fail and lift people up. There are examples of cruelty, like homes being burned to the ground, but also of generosity and women supporting each other. Rights are hard-won, and the freedoms I take for granted today. To vote, to open a bank account, to work and to speak freely... these choices and freedoms didn’t just appear, they were fought for. Walking among graves, looking closely at objects, or standing inside old homes and classrooms, has reminded me that built heritage and social history can connect us to our past and our own place in it.
I’ve also learned that progress is fragile. Discrimination and inequality haven’t disappeared, and we must stay vigilant. But I’ve seen how stories inspire change, how learning about women who endured, adapted, and resisted helps me see my own life differently. More than anything, I’ve felt gratitude. Gratitude to live in a time where choice is possible, and a responsibility to use that choice well.
But I think understanding these lessons isn’t enough, and the real question is, how do I act on these lessons? For me, it means raising awareness, keeping women’s stories alive. It means mentoring and uplifting women around me, encouraging more to step into volunteering, leadership, and governance, bringing their lived experience to the table. It means supporting child and family-friendly spaces so mothers, caregivers, and children can participate fully. It means advocating for fairness in work, reminding employers that flexibility, equity, and respect aren’t extras but essentials.
It also means creating free, fun, meaningful opportunities through art, heritage, and community projects that connect us to our place and to each other. And it means modelling reflection for young people — showing my daughters, and other children, that looking back with curiosity and critical thinking helps us shape the future.
The women of our past have taught me that choice, courage, and community matter. My responsibility now is to use the opportunities I have... opportunities they never did, to tell stories, and create a Timaru where women and children can choose the lives they want, have those opportunities and doors open, to step through and thrive.
Here is what they have taught me:
Ann Williams
Imagine being the only permanent European woman in Timaru — with a new baby in your arms and the whole frontier changing around you. Ann was the wife of Samuel “Yankie Sam” Williams, mother of the first recorded European child born in Timaru in 1856, and the only settler woman living here at the time. She saw the first European immigrants arrive and witnessed Timaru’s transformation before dying suddenly in 1860. Ann taught me about courage in isolation — that even short lives can hold enormous significance, and that women often stood quietly at the centre of community change.
Elizabeth Rhodes
From a cob cottage to a 17-room mansion, hers was a life that spanned humble beginnings to opulance. Elizabeth lived in the first cob house built in 1851, lost her husband early, remarried, and ended her life in a grand home.
Her journey reminded me how dramatically women’s lives could shift depending on circumstances, and how resilience and adaptability were often the keys to survival.
Mary & Emma Neal
Three years sleeping in a cart with children, under a canvas roof — that was home. Mary Neal raised her family in a covered dray in Temuka while establishing one of the region’s first family farms. Her daughter Emma grew up in that hardship, married young, raised eleven children, and carried that legacy of resilience forward. Their story showed me that history is made in the everyday grind, often without recognition — and that women’s strength has always been the backbone of community.
Jessie Mackay
From a one-room bush school in Kakahu to the halls of the suffrage movement. Jessie was New Zealand’s first native-born poet, a teacher, journalist, and suffragist. She wrote poetry blending Māori and Scottish traditions, campaigned for women’s rights, and became a fearless national voice for justice. Jessie’s story taught me that words are powerful tools for change, and that small rural beginnings don’t limit how far your voice can travel.
Bella McCallum
Dux of Timaru Girls’ High, a pioneer of science — and forgotten by her own council’s Hall of Fame. Bella was a gifted botanist, educated at a time when women had to choose between career or family. She lost her life in childbirth at the same age I am now, her career cut short. Bella’s life taught me about brilliance interrupted, and about the importance of remembering women who achieved in male-dominated fields but were later overlooked.
Freda du Faur
Everyone knows her as the mountaineer — but her greatest climb was living openly in love with another woman. Freda was the first woman to ascend Aoraki/Mount Cook in 1910, a feat of stamina and skill. But she also navigated the prejudices of her time as a woman in a same-sex relationship. Freda taught me that true courage isn’t just physical; it’s also about daring to live authentically, even when society isn’t ready.
Jane Cain (optional inclusion)
A merchant’s wife in a frontier town, balancing family, business, and reputation. Jane was the wife of Captain Henry Cain, one of Timaru’s early leaders. She lived through the boom of a young port town and carried the burdens of public and private life. Jane’s life taught me that women often held communities together in ways history barely records.