With Dr. Margaret Steinberg
by Sam Regi
In a story session with Dr. Margaret Steinberg at her home in Taringa, Brisbane, we primarily discussed her professional legacy. We delved into her transition from physiotherapy to academia and subsequently into several top leadership roles. Her narrative showcases the transformative influence of education, advocacy, and perseverance in effecting meaningful change in public health and beyond. This interview was conducted in collaboration with the Churchill Trust.
Press play to listen to an extract from the conversation with Dr. Margaret.
"My expectations were somewhat different due to my mother's education. I was always ambitious, wanting to do something useful and not be buried in domesticity." - Dr Margaret Steinberg.
Can you share your origin story?
I’m the eldest of four children, born to John and Marjorie Perry-Keene, and as the name suggests, we come from a very English background. My grandfather emigrated from England, but we still maintain family connections there. Growing up in a traditional family with strong values of primogeniture, my brother, as the sole boy, was seen as the most important figure in our household. This shaped much of my early expectations.
However, I was fortunate to have a mother who attended university—a rare feat for a woman of her time, born in 1910. She went to school in Sydney, traveling by boat, and would only come home during long holidays. Because of her, my expectations were different from many of my peers. I was always ambitious, eager to do something meaningful with my life, not just be confined to domestic duties. I never wanted that.
I longed to study medicine, but in our household, my father didn’t approve. So, I pursued physiotherapy and graduated, though I wasn’t particularly happy in the role. I had a growing interest in social and public health issues. My heart was still set on medicine in some form, which eventually led me to a Ph.D. in neurophysiology. I was lucky to have wonderful mentors—mostly men—who challenged and encouraged me along the way, helping shape what has been a very fulfilling intellectual and personal journey.
You mentioned growing up in central Queensland. Can you tell me more about that experience?
It wasn’t quite the outback, more central Queensland coast. I was born in Rockhampton, but my family moved to Bundaberg when I was two, and that’s where I grew up. Bundaberg was primarily an agricultural town—sugarcane, cattle, and farms further inland. Although my family had ties to properties in the interior, that wasn’t the life we led. My father worked in banking, and my mother was a practicing physiotherapist, which was quite unusual at the time, especially for a woman.
What was life like growing up in Bundaberg?
It was a very pleasant childhood. We rode our bicycles everywhere since there weren’t many cars around. But my early life was shaped by the war. We had to evacuate Bundaberg and move to Toowoomba, as it was deemed safer. My family’s home in Toowoomba is now part of Concordia, so I spent much of my childhood there due to what was known as the Brisbane Line, a defense strategy during World War II. Despite the disruption, my upbringing in Bundaberg was marked by a strong sense of community and simplicity.
Dr. Margaret Steinberg at home.
How did the war shape your childhood?
My childhood during the war was somewhat mixed, largely shaped by the times. But because I was very young, I didn’t perceive it as particularly dangerous. We didn’t really feel like we were under threat, although there were shortages and rationing. I remember there being transport issues, and things like butter and eggs were rationed, but overall, we didn’t suffer much.
None of my immediate family members were directly involved in the war. My godfather was in the Air Force, but he worked in maintenance and didn’t serve overseas. We had English relatives who were more involved, so we were aware of what was happening in Europe. My aunts, who had been studying music in England and Europe, came home because of the war, so there was some disruption. But compared to the devastation many others faced, our experience was minimal.
You mentioned that there were certain expectations of you as a child. Can you elaborate on those expectations?
The expectations placed on me were different from those of my peers. I was fortunate to have role models—my mother went to university, and I had aunts who studied music in London and Budapest. For most girls growing up in Bundaberg at the time, options were extremely limited. Nursing and teaching were the main career paths, if they even considered further education. Most of my peers left school after junior years with no real visible alternatives.
It was a different world back then, far more isolated. There was no internet, no access to information like there is today. People relied on the radio and local libraries, so there wasn’t much exposure to other possibilities. Despite that, I think we were spectacularly happy. We had the freedom to ride our bikes, wander around, and just be children in a way that’s perhaps not possible today. It was a simpler, more isolated, but contented life.