The pandemic never ended
I was sitting in a Waitākere College music class when our teacher turned the projector on and broadcast the announcement of Aotearoa going into level four lockdown to a room of sixteenyear-old dimwits. A few classrooms over, people were panicking about not being able to see their friends or exist like a functional teenager for the foreseeable future; my group of theatre kid adjacent rejects were rejoicing at the thought of avoiding the terrifying straight boys that plagued our nightmares.
My next two years swung between beautiful calm and solitude and horrific moments of emotional peril. Gender dysphoria, eating disorders, health anxiety, self-loathing; it was all here, folks! While I’m well aware that “covid bad” isn’t a particularly hot take, I still can’t help but see the clear line between my life taking a turn for the better correlating with the lifting of liv event restrictions and social gatherings in mid-2022.
Others in Aotearoa didn’t see their fortunes when I did. Covid didn’t magically go away for them; it’s been an everlasting aspect of their life, dealing with symptoms of chronic illness long after their initial diagnosis. Every day, news headlines of increasing rates of illness and death are buried under others deemed more important like the trials of the royal family and hot Westmere property bargains. Sure, people are dying - but it’s 2024, and Covid is old news.
This cultural resistance to admitting the pandemic isn’t over is leading to long-Covid patients being left to fend for themselves. They join a large group of people dealing with chronic illness and receiving minimal government support despite inabilities to work or contribute to our economy. Unsurprisingly, that just makes things worse: recent research over in Australia has revealed that people working less hours could be costing them NZ $2 billion a year.
Many who advocate for long Covid visibility recommend taking the highest levels of precaution to minimise the risk of spread ing long-Covid through radical safety - wearing masks in heavily populated indoor settings, socially isolating, and regular vaccina tion are all paramount to minimising the spread of the disease despite their perceived lack of relevance in 2024. While the thought of having to ever wear a mask again is enough to make people wince, it’s much worse to be doomed to months, weeks, years, or a lifetime of chronic illness with minimal support.
Don't worry, the rest of our health issue is a little less doom and gloom. Contributor Ishani Mathur is chatting about the links between gut and brain health, Nathan Beetege chats about men tal health in cinema, and dodofrenzy joins a pyramid scheme. We’re nearly at the end of the year gang - take a moment to breathe, do a couple stretches, and smile before you kill yourself through burnout in a last-ditch attempt to submit your thesis on the grunge hypermetal music scene of rural Pōkeno.
Banners Over Bridges: The Power of Peaceful Protesting
Written by Nabeelah Khan (she/her) | @nabeelahkhann | CONTRIBUTING WRITER
In the face of the ongoing conflict in Gaza, a small but dedicated group in Auckland is determined to keep the issue in the public eye. Known informally as Banners for Palestine, this grassroots initiative waves banners over the motorways of Tāmaki Makaurau every Saturday, aiming to raise awareness about the atrocities unfolding in Gaza and stand in solidarity with the Palestinian people.
Emerging from a wider network of movements across Aotearoa and the globe, Banners for Palestine began six months ago in January. A spokesperson from the group reflected on its origins, explaining, "We thought that the rallies weren’t reaching beyond those already committed. So, we thought, why not reach out to the general public?"
The idea that sparked the movement was simple yet powerful: large banners that could speak as loudly as a rally. With this in mind, the group started positioning themselves on bridges over busy motorways, capturing the attention of passersby. “We go on the various bridges over the motorways where there's a lot of traffic, every Saturday for the past six months,” the spokesperson says.
The kaupapa of the project is not just about voicing protest but creating a consciousness among those who may not follow social media or actively engage in political discussions. “We hope it creates awareness for a lot of people who know about what’s happening in Gaza but don’t engage with it,” the spokesperson explains. “It’s about making them see that this is still happening.”
In addition to raising awareness through its banners hung over bridges, the group plans to increase its activities, shifting to a bi-weekly schedule that alternates between motorways and more centralized locations like town centres, furthering conversations within communities.
The project has not been without its difficulties. Participants have had to develop practical skills, such as crafting banners that can withstand harsh winds, using bamboo sticks for sturdiness, and perfecting their method of hanging them. Another challenge has been dealing with aggressive reactions from pedestrians, drivers, and the police. However, the group has adopted humour as a tool for de-escalating conflict. “We’ve had largely positive interactions with the police,” the spokesperson shares,
“and humour really helps diffuse any tension.”
Despite the challenges, there have been several standout moments for the group. A particularly memorable event occurred at Eden Park during a rugby game, where participants braved harsh weather conditions for four hours to ensure their message was seen. Another instance was in Ponsonby where the banners sparked significant public engagement at crossing intersections, with many people stopping to ask questions and show support. An additional key moment took place on Karangahape Road, where the response from the community was overwhelmingly positive, with shop owners and restaurant patrons expressing their support for the initiative.
As Banners for Palestine continues to grow, the group encourages broader community participation. Whether through honking in support while driving by or starting conversations about Palestine after seeing the banners, the initiative seeks new ways to engage the public. By maintaining a visible and consistent presence in public spaces, the group aims to raise awareness and spark dialogue about the war on Gaza.
For Banners for Palestine, the message is clear: this is a peaceful way of making a loud statement.
[Banners for Palestine demonstrating on the Walmsley Road overbridge in Māngere. Photo by Nabeelah Khan, 24 August 2024. ]
Amongst rising queerphobia, Tāmaki Makaurau has a new queer book club
The past year in Aotearoa has been an uncertain time for trans and non-binary communities. The struggle for queer rights once again came to a tipping point. In Aotearoa, this looked like UK activist Posie Parker travelling here to lead a transphobic hate rally. While huge numbers of counter-protestors came to support queer people, Posie Parker still emboldened hate groups, notably from Destiny Church.
Members of Destiny Church have gone on to destroy rainbow crossings and picket drag queen storytimes until they’re too unsafe to go ahead. Coalition government partner New Zealand First has introduced transphobic bills to parliament. Following these events, there has been an uptick in anti-trans hate online.
In a similar vein, the United States reached record-high levels of book bans last year. These book bans target LGBTQ+ books in schools and public libraries. They’re driven by the religious-political in largely Republican states, continuing well into this year. They pose a real threat to queer expression and are part of their attempt to undo the last several decades of progress on queer rights.
It was in this environment that Bookish Ceremony, a book club dedicated to queer literature, was formed in Tāmaki Makaurau.
Bookish Ceremony co-founder Demi Cox had considered the book bans when they conceived the idea for the book club. As a former English student and now bookseller, creating and protecting spaces to enjoy queer writing had been a consideration for Cox, even before Bookish Ceremony was conceived.
“I was in Ireland last year for a booksellers and publishing conference in Cork. At this conference, I attended some really great sessions on diversity, accessibility and inclusion. But also, upon arriving in Ireland, there were protests happening at libraries against the availability of queer books, like Juno Dawson's This Book Is Gay.
“Arriving in Ireland was the nudge in the direction of starting Bookish Ceremony. While at the conference I took the opportunity to visit queer pubs (because why not?) and stumbled on a queer book club in Dublin. I thought .. a book club, how cool? Working with books, it never occurred to me that a queer book club could exist. So much of our culture is centred on partying, clubbing, alcohol.. which have their place but not everyone is into that and that’s not always what being queer is about.”
The book club is hosted at Electric Ceremony and Spooky Ceremony, a queer-owned tattoo studio and barber. Cox chose the location as it’s a “place that affirms the existence of queer people” and prioritises accessibility. To them, there’s an inherent connection between a space like Bookish Ceremony and Electric Ceremony - “what we choose to do with our bodies, how we style our hair, the stories we choose to read and share. It’s about connecting with the right people in a safe space and facilitating that access.”
My first time attending the book club, the book was James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room. The group consensus seemed to be that nobody could say they enjoyed it per se due to the subject matter, but everyone was glad they had read the 20th-century classic. Discussions ranged from Baldwin’s internalised homophobia to the reactions towards the book at the time. Baldwin
had taken a huge risk when he, an African American author, wrote a book on a white, queer man at the peak of the civil rights movement. Baldwin is renowned even today for writing about intersectionality in queer communities. Perhaps this is how his work resonates in 2024 Tāmaki Makaurau.
However, most of Bookish Ceremony’s picks are not classics or even written by men. Previous picks have included Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg, Olive Nuttall's Kitten, and K Patrick’s Mrs S. This month’s pick is Shilo Kino’s new novel All That We Know. While many of Tāmaki Makaurau’s queer spaces tailor to gay men (notably the popular bars on Karangahape Road), Bookish Ceremony has carved a space that centres the experiences of women and non-binary people within LGBTQ+ communities.
For Cox, finding queer books that made them feel understood was an important part of reading queer literature and now they want to share that experience with others. “I will always remember the queer books that spoke to me. As a queer bookseller, I wanted to create a space for people to connect with like-minded folk and stories. There’s so much out there and there are so many stories yet to be written.”
Although the club was only intended to be held twice a month, Cox says people are excited about the space and want them to meet more often - a possibility they are open to.
“The people behind Electric Ceremony and Spooky Ceremony are the kindest people I know and we are so thankful that they have shared their space with us to make this happen. I feel the space ‘disrupts’, if that’s the right way of putting it, our expectations of where a book club takes place and in doing so it feels right. ‘Ceremony’ is a gathering of sorts, a gathering of like-minded people, and we felt queer folk are ‘bookish’ in ways that are varied and diverse, however, we read.”
Bookish Ceremony is hosted twice a month at Electric Ceremony in Auckland Central. Updates and more information can be found on their Instagram @bookish.ceremony.
Written By Caeden Tipler (they/them) @caedentipler NEWS EDITOR
Whining & Dining
Dating Apps
Siri, Open Tinder
A friend called me rather distraught that the boy she had been messaging incessantly abruptly left her on seen. After thirty minutes of talking her off the ledge and discouraging a double text, our conversation eventually devolved into the regularly scheduled programming of how we are failing our degrees and the clothes that cost three times our weekly pay. Fourty-five minutes of conversation later, he texts her back with a brief apology that he was busy. All is right with the world. And all over, a man she has never met in real life.
The dating realm is full of enough plot-disrupting events, even without technology. The troubles caused by dating apps and the people we meet on them have bestowed enough dinner-time gossip for the next twenty years. From the person you incessantly messaged for weeks, only to ghost you on a regular Tuesday. To the most schmaltzy, sappy first date you went on where you like each other so much you end up kissing over the restaurant table. And maybe in the car. Only for you to never speak again. And finally, the person you’re talking to, not because you like them but because you just need the ego boost. For every sleep-inducing ‘Hey, how’s your day going,’ there is a message sexualising you in the most grotesque way. It’s truly enough to want to clock out of the dating world altogether.
I could go on labouring over the issues caused by dating apps, and in fact, I will. The endless game of ‘hot or not’ now replaces your morning Instagram doomscroll. Intoxicating online conversations can be followed by confoundingly awkward first dates. The misleading feeling that there is an endless tap of hot people who are perfect for you often prevents you from focusing on a select few. Furthermore, there is constant anxiety that the person you seem to have a great connection with is using that thumb to swipe through other options right after your first date.
But the dating landscape, in general, is abysmal. Meeting friends, let alone love interests, is like fishing in a dry sea. So, of course, we turn to the nearest solution, even if it feels like drinking the last dregs of a natty wine purely because you want to get drunk. The apps offer a revolving door of suitors to keep you occupied but never satisfied. A close friend of mine goes on so many unremarkable dates that he doesn’t even bother telling me about them. The thrill of having a new lover to gossip about has faded to a conversation akin to talking about the weather. It’s hard to maintain hope when the external factors are so uncontrollable and seem to be stacked against us.
But I’ll be fair. For every seven horror stories, a couple lies about their relationship origin. The one that beat the odds and is now living happily ever after in a happy, healthy, loving relationship. The best advice I could give is to get off them. Approaching someone at a humble bar feels like committing a criminal offence; it makes for a much better story than ‘we met on an app.’ Plus, you truly can’t beat a ‘meet cute’ and flirt combination. Yes, rejection is deeply humbling when it happens right in front of you, but the sting wears off, even if the memory haunts you now and again. I find it helps to remember that you don’t like everyone you meet either.
However, I get it; dating solely by meeting in person is a gruelling ordeal, and the apps just make your life that little bit easier. Even the person you never thought would be on a dating app is on one. So, I will give you a list of advice that has been passed around, and let’s be real, you’ve probably heard it all before. Manage your expectations by setting up what you are looking for in a relationship. Remember that as easy as it is to match with people, they can fall away just as quickly. The onslaught of people you talk to can be overwhelming, so try to limit the number of people you’re talking to. People can be hot and interesting online and the complete opposite in person. And finally, swipe left on the people with six fish photos, fight the Sunday scaries and those who want ‘someone that doesn’t take themselves too seriously. Swipe right on the people with carabiners, DJs and your coworkers. Actually, don’t do any of those. I don’t recommend it.
And with that, I wish you well. For all my cynicism and rather bleak outlook on the dating scene, it’s still something that fills everyone’s life with a spot of fun. So Mum is telling you to be safe. Share your location with your friends, and always have a getaway car on speed dial on a first date. Be home by midnight so we can all sit on the floor and gossip. I need someone to live through vicariously, unfortunately.
Written By Elle Daji (she/her) @ellemnopow
CONTRIBUTING WRITER
My Therapist Told Me to Get High & Play Videogames
“I’m tense and nervous and I can’t relax” Scottish-American proverb, circa 1977.
Every night once I finally get home from a long hard day of working from home, I find myself in my room. Maybe I’ll watch a movie, start a TV show, or read a book. But I find myself unable to. Those things feel like a waste of my time. My ADHD brain tells me that every moment not spent making the most of being finally alone to work on one of my creative endeavours is a moment that I’ve wasted. Instead of letting my brain relax, I’ll start planning a comic, drawing or writing into the early hours of the morning. Or I’ll open up FL Studio and not stop making a new song until my room smells like hyperfocus fear sweats and I’ve just noticed that my bladder has been full to bursting for the past half hour.
During a rant to my therapist about how annoying it is that I find it hard to leave a social situation and go to bed, the topic of relaxing came up. My brain requires recharge time after everything I do. So naturally, my brain walks to my computer chair, sits me down and starts working on my art. I open up Photoshop, FadeIn, or FL Studio, and I stare at it. Either I stay up way too late making something, or I inevitably open YouTube without any conscious decision-making. I spend hours watching video essays about things I like, things I don’t like, and things I’ve never heard of. At some point, I inevitably fall into the doom scroll of YouTube Shorts, Instagram Reels, or TikToks. At no point am I having fun, or relaxing. I don’t stop and realise that during this time, I could have watched a movie, read three chapters of a book, or just lay in bed and be asleep already.
My therapist attributed my problems with relaxing to several factors.
1. My ADHD gives me complete and utter choice paralysis, sending me into a procrastinatory state of watching the most easily consumable media,
2. My anxiety tells me that if I don’t make the most of this free time, I WILL NEVER HAVE FREE TIME EVER AGAIN. IT’S NOW OR NEVER, DON’T FUCK IT UP.
3. My Autism enforces a habit that I have been making stronger and stronger for over ten years.
4. My fatigue leaves me exhausted, but not in a sleepy kind of way. A manic caffeine-fuelled exhaustion that leaves me wired but without any energy.
My therapist began assigning me homework at the end of each therapy session. That homework almost always consisted entirely of. “This week, please relax.”
“This week, I hope you get some rest, and have some time to yourself to just relax.”
“For the love of God, Cameron, you need to make learning how
to relax your number one priority for the week.”
I returned to him after weeks of this, begging him for some insight into how to turn my brain off for a moment of self-care. His solution? I should get high and play video games. The weed tricks my ADHD into focusing on whatever task I’m already doing. It turns my constant anxious monologue into something I can claim isn’t true because it’s coming from a brain that’s on drugs. It tricks my autism into breaking patterns because I’m in a heightened state.
Videogames are a huge comfort for me. While I love other mediums more, there’s nothing quite like hyperfocusing to full immersion in a world I can interact with. Every few months, my focus activates and a particular game becomes a source of relaxation. Getting lost in the completely fictional worlds of Hollow Knight’s Hallownest, Celeste’s Mountain, Baldur’s Gates’ Faerûn, or something even more far-fetched like Assassin’s Creed II’s Renaissance Florence.
Despite this, I can never bring myself to play them. My boomer parents’ ethos that I should go play outside reverberates in my head whenever I open Steam. And the other parts of me tell myself that I should be doing something productive.
“What about when you’re high?” Asks my therapist. When I’m high, I spiral into a howling pit of self-directed anxiety over everything I’ve ever said and done, unless I have a task I’m doing.
“Okay but, what if you have a task to do when you’re high?” He asked. If I have a task to do, there is nothing else in the world that exists other than the task I’m doing.
“Okay.” He scrawled something down on the notepad just out of view of his computer’s camera. “Your homework this week is to boot up your computer, open a videogame, press start, and get as high as you can.”
Written By Cameron McCurdy (she/her)
SOCIAL MEDIA COORDINATOR
Curiosity may seem like an odd thing to equate with health. But it is impossible to arrive at a fact without first being curious about the unknown. In 1747, Dr James Lind’s curiosity about the cause of scurvy led him to identify lemon and orange juice as a cure. A discovery that wasn’t believed or put into practice by the British Navy until 1795, almost 50 years later. Regarding mental health, curiosity and the ability to bear the discomfort of not knowing are crucial. A healthy state of mind relies on curiosity as much as your physical body relies on water, or orange juice if you’re taking a long journey by ship in 1753.
As children, we develop our minds by being endlessly curious about the world. First, we use our senses to absorb new information and later ask countless questions. If you’ve ever spent time with a toddler you will know that “why” is one of their favourite words. Yet as adults, we limit our curiosity to a finite set of subjects or halt it entirely because of the fear of being wrong. Being interested in the potential existence of aliens is all well and good, but don’t turn around and tell me there is no such thing as climate change. Certainly, some people are worse than others when it comes to concrete thinking, but we are all guilty of it. Curiosity must be extended inwardly and outwardly. Reality simply cannot exist in the isolation of a single mind.
So why am I harping on about curiosity? I believe it is a tool we employ to find the truth. It’s more than that though. While the truth is an elusive thing, curiosity is a constant. Many times in human history we have discovered we were wrong about something we collectively believed in for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. If you’d argued bloodletting wouldn’t cure your measles in the 17th century, your doctor would have laughed in your face and probably carted you off to an asylum.
We are drawn to certainty. It’s comforting to believe we understand everything. It’s even more comforting to believe someone else has figured it all out for us. There are truths about the world today we can be certain of: the earth is
round, and we need oxygen to breathe (a discovery we didn't make until 1774), for example. Science has come a long way. But true science can’t help but be curious and open. The gatekeeping of ‘the truth’ by medical sciences has hindered the health of patients for thousands of years. In the mid-19th century, initial scepticism towards handwashing, despite evidence of its efficacy in preventing infection, led to the continuation of unnecessary deaths. Ignaz Semmelweis, the first Western doctor to discover the correlation between handwashing and lower mortality rates, was laughed out of the Vienna Medical Association. His hygiene discoveries were not widely accepted until years after his death in 1865. Florence Nightingale, a nurse during the Crimean War, improved sanitation, hospital conditions, and care for wounded soldiers, significantly reducing mortality rates. Yet she was similarly dismissed by the medical community during her lifetime.
Figureheads of the political right are frequently trying to ‘own’ their rivals with the ‘cold, hard truth’. Facts don't care about your feelings, as Ben Shapiro puts it. The idea is that there are truths about the world that are indisputable despite how you feel about them. But this perspective comes from the inability to cope with the discomfort of change. Being wrong doesn’t feel good. Neither does uncertainty. Accepting new ideas requires relinquishing old and familiar ones. A grieving process is involved when we let go of certain beliefs. The undying faith in ‘facts and logic’ is also blind to the reality of our beliefs playing a significant role in our feelings. Denial is a functional method of avoiding discomfort. Especially if the truth about something is grim and hard to swallow. If you believe the climate isn’t warming dangerously fast, you don’t have to endure the fear and dread of climate collapse. Believing sex determines gender alleviates feelings of confusion about what your gender means. This kind of denial affects the health of everyone. Resistance to accept new facts and truths leads to legislation which further harms people and our planet.
The far-right sees those who ‘just state the facts’ as heroic.
The ‘facts’ in question are often dangerous conspiracies that relieve the fear of living in uncertain times. The rise in anti-vaccine rhetoric during the COVID-19 pandemic is one example. While scientists and governments acted as fast as possible to determine the best course of action, spokespersons for the alt-right obstructed these new initiatives. People like Fox News host Tucker Carlson and Infowars founder Alex Jones spent the pandemic spouting ‘the truth about the vaccines’. Both questioned the efficacy and safety of the vaccine and claimed it was part of a broader government agenda to harm or control the population. Often they denied the existence of or downplayed the severity of the virus. These figures were speaking with confidence that scientists couldn’t. We were still in the process of discovering how to manage the pandemic. But in times of uncertainty, a confident-sounding authority is comforting.
I can greatly sympathise with anyone who is sceptical about the transparency of world governments. In my lifetime, governments have been exposed as incompetent and untrustworthy more than once. As recent as 2021, the Pandora Papers, a leak of 11.9 million documents, detailed how world leaders, politicians, and celebrities use offshore accounts to conceal wealth. The leak revealed how government officials exploit global financial systems for tax evasion and money laundering. However, a curious and open mind will be capable of holding two contradicting truths simultaneously. For example, pharmaceutical companies are corrupt and government legislation allows that, and the COVID-19 vaccine was a clinically tested, necessary part of the solution to a pandemic. Beyond this, the delusional fear of LQBTQ+, and specifically trans, people ‘corrupting’ the youth comes from a rejection of curiosity and the unknown. LGBTQ+ people have always existed. Attempts to study LGBTQ+ issues scientifically have historically been violently obstructed.
In a letter to his brother, the poet John Keats complained about the shortcomings of poet and philosopher Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “... – I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason – Coleridge.” The psychoanalyst Wilfred Bion adopted Keat’s term “Negative Capability” and used it to describe a necessary element of psychological health. The capacity to endure the discomfort and uncertainty of not knowing, instead of imposing preconceived certainties and solutions on complex or emotionally challenging situations.
Questions and curiosity will eventually lead to the truth, even if that truth is that we just don’t know. Some questions don’t have definitive answers. If you search endlessly for the meaning of existence, you’ll drive yourself mad. There is also no point in trying to prove or disprove
the existence of God, spirits, ghosts, or otherworldly phenomena. A healthier viewpoint to these uncertainties is to admit we can’t know, and might never be sure. We must become comfortable with the unpleasantness of not knowing. If we could, our physical and mental health would greatly benefit.
I’ll leave you, reader, with a quote I dearly love: “Uniformity of thought is increasingly the apparent goal and demand of civilization: education has no use for the fires of rebellion, and even science itself is not above lending an occasional hand at the fire-engine. Still there burns on in most of us a small wild spark. I advise you to nourish it as a precious possession. Do not, however, be under any misapprehension. Really to think for oneself is as strange, difficult, and dangerous as any adventure, and, as the wise ones say, ‘it will do you no good’; but, like virtue - which it does not otherwise greatly resemble - it will be its own reward” - Wilfred Trotter
From Hawke's Bay to the Grammys: The Evanescent Baynk on ADOLESCENCE & SENESCENCE
The story behind the stage name, Baynk, is unremarkable. But it's more than a made-up word to the virtuoso who has just joined the early morning Zoom call. With flowing brunette hair, a sharp jawline and a piercing gaze, Baynk is intimidating at first. He has an intense respect for the language of art. I use the term art here instead of music, as despite being a Grammy-nominated electronic producer, Baynk is more akin to a multi-disciplinary artist. He's more like Carsten Nicolai or Imogen Heap than Calvin Harris or The Chainsmokers. Baynk is the stage name of Hawke's Bay-raised, now LA-based Jock Nowell-Usticke. He came up with the word in the shower. No really.
Baynk was on a list with 20 other possible stage names. They were all "equally rubbish." But he wanted a word that didn't exist so he could create his own meaning for it. I ask: "What meaning have you forged for Baynk?"—a dreamt-up word and stage name that can't be found in any dictionary or thesaurus. "Oh wow, that's deep. "It's the world that I place my art in. It's whatever. It's the umbrella for everything. But does it have any meaning? It's more like a vessel."
Brady Brickner-Wood for Pitchfork remarked that his "fusion of house, R&B, and pop soon set him apart from the many similar acts scattered throughout the scene." Baynk has evolved from posting Kygo-like music on Soundcloud to releasing meticulously crafted, sonically distinct and intricate tracks. Straddling the line between genres, his style of minimalist emotive electronica is melancholic and ethereal. Perfect for the closing minutes at a club or a late-night walk. With the release of each track, there is an accompanying visualiser or music video—they belong in MoMA or the Tate Modern. Rotoscoping, 3D animation and virtual reality are all utilised. Baynk is an artist whose unique sonic sensibilities pair with his visual sensibilities. They exist as one.
“Straddling the line between genres, his style of minimalist emotive electronica is melancholic and ethereal. Perfect for the closing minutes at a club or a late-night walk.”
The genesis of Baynk's artistic rigour might stem from Baynk's background as a chemical engineering major. He studied down south at the University of Canterbury. In either his second to last year or last year of study, Baynk can't remember exactly which, he realised that his major "wasn't his thing."
Scrambling to figure out who and what he was, Baynk wound up in a band that played covers at university gigs. "It was a lot
of fun." He and the band won a competition. The prize? They got to visit a recording studio and tape a track. There was even a "hot shot recording guy" on-site who had toured with Stevie Wonder. Baynk loved the mechanics of mixing and reproducing sound, but when he and the band got the mastered track back, "it sounded so bad. I'm going to do it myself. I'll figure out how to do it." Baynk opened up his laptop and set to. "It wasn't as hard as I thought it was to make music." Music is sound stacked on top of one another; it's layers upon layers. He became obsessed with melody, tempo, harmony, pitch and timbre. Baynk's band members became irritated as "no one could play what I was making."
"That's how I got into it." His life has undergone a metamorphic change since. Baynk has gone from the streets of Riccarton to the Grammys in downtown Los Angeles. He lost out to Harry Styles, who won the Engineered Album, Non-Classical category, but that didn't put him off making the city his new home.
"I have mixed feelings about Los Angeles, but the longer I stay here, the more I can learn to love it." What he doesn't like about the city is that it feels transitory. People move to the City of Angels to chase their dreams of becoming famous actors or musicians. If they don't make it, they return home, their ambitions shattered. But "the weather is insane", and the "level of creativity here is unmatched. Some of the music being written here is the best in the world." And Baynk is now collaborating with the wealth of talent available in Los Angeles.
“Baynk and his haunting auto-tuned falsetto echo over a glitching soundscape. It’s spellbinding.”
Baynk is again working with Spencer Graves. Graves has worked with the who's who of the music industry. Dua Lipa, Harry Styles, FKA TWIGS and Kendrick Lamar. The two worked together on Baynk's 2020 EP, “A Study In Movement”, which explored the "individualistic interpretation and the relationship between music and dance". Now, with the music video for “Fool For You”, one of the first tracks released off his upcoming album, we see Baynk, directed by Graves, as a single blurry figure dancing alone, exorcising his longing. For whom? We don't know. But it doesn't matter as Baynk and his haunting auto-tuned falsetto echo over a glitching soundscape. It's spellbinding. Baynk decries as his body contorts and limbs reach out for a love who isn't there. He sings: "You don't love me like before." Baynk is a "Fool for this love and everything you do." A swirling black hole rotates around him. The void exists in
Baynk's and his listeners' aching hearts.
The concept of love as an emotive, destructive force is ever-present in Baynk's discography. But he's also exploring ageing as a radically transformative existential state of being. ADOLESCENCE, his debut album, a concept album, is a musing on the immediacy of youth and romantic first experiences. After I stumbled over the word, Baynk had to tell me how to pronounce SENESCENCE, the title of his upcoming sophomore album. It's pronounced: suh-NEHsns. The album, an interplay with ADOLESCENCE, is named after "the process of cells dividing" and "the deterioration as they [cells] keep going and get to a point where they can't divide anymore." In short, it's the biological process of growing old.
“Baynk’s experience with tinnitus was an inspiration for SENESCENCE as he started “thinking about death a lot.”
Baynk's experience with tinnitus was an inspiration for SENESCENCE as he started "thinking about death a lot." His tinnitus would vanish days after a festival or a show ended, but "a year and a half ago, two years ago, it just didn't go away. And it still hasn't. "I was really freaked out at the time. I thought my music career was fucked because I'm not going to be able to hear things the same anymore. There's going to be this perpetual ringing in my ear." This experience reminds us of the Sound of Metal—a movie where a heavy metal drummer's life is turned upside down as he begins to lose his hearing. "That movie scared me a lot. Because I was like,
oh, thank God, I never let it get that far." Thankfully, Baynk's tinnitus hasn't held him back. He's performing in San Francisco in a week with a 'special guest'.
That 'special guest' is a pink pillow inflatable with a giant concrete slab resting on top. This "overly ambitious" stage will feature on each leg of his "Senescence Live Experiences" tour. I've yet to decipher its meaning, but it's reminiscent of the floating bargelike stage Kanye West performed on during his Saint Pablo tour. The stage is another bold innovation from a talent who is one of the scene’s most enigmatic and exciting artists. Baynk continues to explore the intersection of art and music. His Delphian signature is all over SENESCENCE—the most accomplished work to date from one of Aotearoa's biggest musical exports.
SENESCENCE, will be released September 27 via Virgin Music Group.
Written By Thomas Giblin (he/him)
EDITOR
Aotearoa’s Next Top Mode of Nicotine Delivery
Nicotine pouches, a tobacco-free evolution of the traditional Swedish ‘snus’, began to gain traction in the early 2010s. They look like mini tea bags or pieces of chewing gum. They’re placed between the lip and gum for a discrete, long-lasting nicotine hit. While they pose lower health risks than other nicotine products, experts fear this fairly new addition to the market could follow a similar trajectory to vapes.
Both products are substitutes for tobacco that can, allegedly, help people quit smoking. They’re often packaged in vibrant, eye-catching containers. Flashy flavours, like ‘Strawberry Cheesecake’, ‘Grape Ice’, and ‘Cinnamon Flame’ are especially enticing to adolescents. A 2019 Youth19 survey of NZ secondary school students found that 80% of vapers hadn’t smoked before they started vaping. While vapes helped curb many people’s smoking habits, they also created a new generation of youth nicotine addicts.
In Aotearoa, nicotine pouches are only beginning to garner some attention, despite their prominence overseas. They are legal to import here, but cannot be sold. An NZ Herald article from April claims they are infiltrating our schools, while a piece on RNZ details a mother’s horror at the way they are marketed to young people.
I’ve never had nicotine in my life, so I sought out a couple of mates. We’ll call them Tom and Jacob. They’ve used nicotine pouches in the past. I wanted to get their perspective on this rapidly growing issue.
The Rise of Nicotine Pouches
Nicotine pouches appeared on my radar after I watched Leroy Sane, a high-profile professional footballer, nonchalantly discarding one in a TikTok clip from a YouTube video. Helpfully captioned “Sane casually pulling out the old snus”, this snippet was a symbol of a larger issue proliferated throughout English professional football. Many are calling it an epidemic.
To get a scope of this epidemic, England’s Loughborough University and The Player’s Football Association conducted an extensive study. It found approximately a fifth of all professional footballers use snus or nicotine pouches and that two-fifths of players had used it in the past. The majority of users reported signs of dependence. In a BBC UNTOLD documentary one player describes how the relaxing effect of nicotine helped him deal with the pressures of high-level sport, and how that coping mechanism quickly became an addiction.
They seem almost ubiquitous in Europe. According to Bloomberg, about 15% of the Swedish population uses snus. But I’d never come across them in Aotearoa, until now. This is by design, as the Labour government outlawed their sale in 2020.
Currently, the only way to get nicotine pouches here is to import them, an easy and inexpensive process. However, this law may soon change. According to the Public Health Communication Centre Aotearoa, Associate Health Minister Casey Costello is “likely to propose allowing the sale of oral tobacco and nicotine products, a measure included in the National-NZ First Coalition Agreement.”
The current law against the sale of nicotine pouches is “funny”, says Tom, because of the way offshore suppliers can freely target Kiwis online. “This website that we were using was amazingly advertised. It was even on my mates’ [TikTok] For You pages who don’t even use nicotine and it would show up everywhere without being shut down.” Jacob, whose supplier allegedly imported 10,000 tins to sell illegally, wonders what the point of the law is if anyone can import them.
The ZYNfluencer and the ZYNfluenced
They’re easy to acquire, and it’s common to simply stumble upon them. Tom says he found out about the pouches via social media. “They got really popular on Instagram and TikTok. Everyone was doing them.” They weren’t marketed to him as a tool for quitting vaping or smoking. Social media marketing is a concern amongst public health officials. One article from the Guardian Australia explains how manufacturers use Australian influencers to market the products, with “many [viewers] asking where the products can be bought and one asking, ‘Are they all good to take to school?’”. So-called ‘ZYNfluencers’ exist around the world, promoting the popular nicotine pouch brand. One video claims that “Zyn is literally a cheat code to achieving all of your dreams in life”. It is often unclear whether partnerships exist between Zyn and these influencers. Regardless, these immensely popular videos have prompted Tom and many other adolescents to give nicotine pouches a go.
While both Tom and Jacob were attracted to nicotine pouches as a healthier alternative to vaping, other factors were also involved. Nicotine pouches are discrete. This makes them convenient for people who want to experience a nicotine hit in places where it isn’t acceptable to smoke or vape. Jacob, who mainly uses them to help with stress and focus, recalls taking one in an exam. “It was impossible to tell [I was using a pouch] even with exam people watching.” Use cases like Jacob’s, and the footballers who’d even use them on the pitch, prompt fears that nicotine pouches are becoming a popular stopgap measure rather than a quitting aid.
What’s next?
Despite these fears, you could argue for loosening restrictions on the ‘safer’ product while more heavily regulating the harmful ones. Presently, harmful cigarettes and vapes - especially
among youth - are ubiquitous. It’s common to see a group of 12 and 13-year-olds vaping in their school uniform. One study found that nearly a third of all vape stores in the country are less than a five-minute walk away from a school. Allegedly ‘safer’ nicotine pouches are banned, while cigarettes and vapes remain widespread.
Nicotine pouches are still in their infancy, so research on the effects of long-term use is limited. What’s more, the govern ment has learned a lesson from the trajectory of vapes. Casey Costello told RNZ she is constantly seeking advice about the safety and effectiveness of smoking alternatives. “The balance we need to strike is that we don’t want young people addicted to nicotine. New Zealand didn’t have any regulations around vaping until too late and youth vaping got out of hand.” Some of the product’s key selling points are contested. For example, they are touted as a way for people to wean off nicotine. How ever, the Ministry of Health told Costello, “There is not good evidence to date to support their possible use as a reduced harm alternative to smoking and there is currently no evidence of their effectiveness for smoking cessation.”
Both Tom and Jacob were clear: if you don’t already smoke or vape, don’t go anywhere near nicotine pouches. Tom thinks they’d only be gateways into the “harder stuff.” He also advised users to stick to the pouches lowest in nicotine content be cause “the highest level used the stronger options report nausea and vomiting, which can also happen to first time users.
While tobacco-free pouches are enticing because they don’t contain carcinogens, nicotine is still a harmful and addictive substance. Nicotine is often compared to drugs like cocaine and methamphetamine in its addictiveness. It can negatively affect the ability to learn, attention span, and oral health. Those under 25 are more likely to get addicted to nicotine because their brains’ decision-making and risk-assessment regions are not fully developed. And that’s exactly why some nicotine prod ucts are targeted towards young people. Nicotine can become a lifelong subscription.
Should We Rethink Our Attitude Towards Nicotine?
The scientific consensus, and my own biases, mean my first instinct towards any addictive substance is criticism. But a point Imogen West-Knights made in her piece for the Guardian made me question my thinking. “Is a nicotine habit substantially different from a caffeine one, for instance? We’re not, most of us, wringing our hands about the legality of coffee.”
Experts disagree over whether nicotine is more harmful than caffeine. I was interested to hear Tom and Jacob weigh in on the debate. Jacob pointed out that pouches provide a relative ly safe way for people to manage their nicotine habits. He also thinks nicotine pouches have less stigma surrounding them. I could believe that, especially after reading about their populari ty overseas, especially in Europe. West-Knights went as far as to call the pouches Sweden’s “national pastime.”
healthy individuals, as well as in those with cognitive dysfunction associated with various diseases.” The main problem with
Meanwhile, Tom mentioned the double standards between substances like alcohol and cannabis. He also pointed out that nicotine has benefits when consumed in moderation. A 2021 study concluded that “nicotine has several cognitive benefits in
My Face-Off
Not often do I get suckered in by marketing schemes, but when I do, I go crazy. So when I scored some free skincare products thanks to another student-targeted marketing scheme, I didn’t think much of it. My university friends were over the moon. They love their skincare routines like a child loves Christmas morning. But I felt left out. I’ve never had a skincare routine.
The concept of dedicating an extra 15 minutes every morning and night to slather my face in goo felt unnecessary. I’d feel like the baby whose sister slathered them in peanut butter. Maybe it’s the laziness or the masculinity that’s permanently etched into my brain, but with the semester break upon me, I thought, why not throw something new into the mix? The tricky part is sticking to a routine. Especially with weekly existential crises that make it hard to focus on the self-care rituals that Instagram and TikTok influencers swear by.
But here I am, freshly 20, and my ideal night out has changed drastically. Now, instead of smashing cranberry vodkas at a D&B gig, I prefer to be curled up in bed with a film, a cup of Earl Grey tea, and asleep by 10:00 pm. So, I figured a great way to continue my journey towards ‘adulthood’ would be to give skincare a shot. My game plan was to start with one step and work my way up from there. Here’s how it went.
Day 1: Moisturiser? I hardly know her!
To begin, I figured moisturiser was a safe bet. Thanks to the skincare freebie I got on campus—a tiny pot of Kiehl’s Ultra Facial Cream, I could ease my way into skincare. I turned to Google for some well-needed support on where to apply moisturiser. I discovered that faces have trouble spots. These are the places on your face where facial products are needed the most.
Reading up on the “T Zone” of my face, which includes the forehead and nose, I applied a dab of the scentless goo to my face. To my surprise, I liked how it felt on my now fresh skin. Feeling slightly embarrassed that it took me so long to reach this moment, I realised skincare mightn’t actually be as hard as I thought it would be.
Getting excited, I checked the Kiehls’ website to get a full jar. A full-size jar was $75.00. Before shipping. Asking my skincare guru friends, I discovered that this was a ‘standard’ price for moisturiser. As a skincare outsider, I find that bizarre. You can’t tell me that it costs as much to moisturise your face as it does to do a week’s grocery shop. I know it would make my skin feel better, but it would likely expire in the back of my cupboard before I could finish it.
with Skincare
Still, I pushed on. I rubbed the cream into my face and continued with my nightly routine. I crawled into bed that night and felt a mix of dread and curiosity about what the next day would bring. Part of me was already tired of the extra effort. But surprisingly, I was also excited to see if there would be a difference in my skin as I continued with this skincare experiment.
Day 2: Coming Clean with Cleanser
According to my friend, a self-proclaimed skincare guru, I started my skincare routine backwards. Leave it to me to jump right to the last step without even realising it. Oops.
For those as clueless as I am, here’s what a typical skincare routine should look like: cleanse, tone, serum, moisturise. I could’ve restarted the whole process, but I was too far gone and too lazy to do that. So, I decided to go with a ‘sandwich’ approach—start with the first and last steps and then sprinkle in some extra steps when I’m feeling ambitious. It’s a work in progress.
For a cleanser, everyone I consulted with recommended I start with something basic. Cetaphil. A safe, non-offensive choice. My speed exactly. I picked up a bottle from the hellscape that is Chemist Warehouse for $15.99. A welcome change of fiscal pace after the shock of the $75 moisturiser.
Growing up, I’d usually wash my face with the Lynx Africa body wash I was given every gift-giving season. In retrospect, I have no clue what I was thinking. The unmistakable scent of warm synthetic spices and PE changing rooms clearly got to my head and influenced my judgement. It’s a shock my skin hasn’t melted off into a sludge at this point. I’ve made some small strides with my facial cleanser routine, often just using whatever products were left in the shower by my sisters. But when I switched to the Cetaphil I bought, I could feel my pores rejoicing.
After my cleanser, I dried my face, got into my cosy pyjamas, and once again dabbed some moisturiser on my trouble spots. I was getting the hang of this, and my skin was feeling fresher than a piece of gum.
Day 3: My Trauma with Toner
If my life depended on it, I couldn’t tell you what toner is. Isn’t it what you put in printers? I’d encountered it in my tween years, so I figured I was somewhat prepared for this step. My sister had just bought a bottle of Thayers Facial Toner and offered to share it with me in a rare act of sibling generosity. Another budget win!
Feeling a little too confident with my newfound skincare routine, I decided to ignore the instructions. Instead, I winged it. Big mistake. I dabbed some toner onto a cotton ball and rubbed it all over my face, eyes included. Blissfully unaware of the unfolding disaster, I finished my routine, slapped on some moisturiser, and hit the sack.
Fast forward to the following day, I woke up to a delightful surprise. My eyelids had morphed into a puffy, red mess. Toner and eyelids do not mix. Lesson learned the hard way. After a bit of deduction, I read the instructions on the toner bottle, which said in big, bold writing to “avoid the eye area”. Accepting my preventable mistake, I went on with my day. By the evening my eyes had gone down to a manageable rash, but in no way was this step of my skincare experiment successful.
Day 4: Lather, Rinse, Repeat
For the rest of the week, I stuck to my cleanse, tone and moisturise routine. To answer the big three questions: my skin was smooth, I looked better, and I was embarrassed it took me 20 years to get here. Don’t get me wrong; I never intend to be the person who wakes up early to nail down a flawless skincare routine. However, I do believe I’ve made progress. There are more things I can add to my routine. Both my sisters use serums in their routines as well, but after my toner mishap, I’ll focus on the basics before I add anything new.
Future-proofing My Glow Up
I’m determined to continue my skincare routine. At least until my products run out, and I have to come to terms with the price of my skin feeling better. But I feel more confident in how I look. I don’t have to worry as often about pimples popping up at unfortunate times. That’s a huge relief.
So, to anyone out there with a half-hearted skincare routine or no skincare routine at all, take it from me—it’s not that hard! This isn’t me transforming into a reincarnation of a skincare influencer like Hyram. I’m just advocating for putting a bit more time into how you present yourself. I promise it does make you feel good.
This small step might kickstart other self-care habits. I may drink more water and organise a gym routine. Or, maybe I’ll keep enjoying quiet nights in with my Earl Grey tea and a comfort film. At least I know I’m doing something for myself. It’s the little things that count at the end of the day.
Untangling Iden The Story Behin
A five-year-old gazes out from her primary school class photo, seated in the front row. Her brown skin shines, and her grin is wide and toothy, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her hair is straightened—chemically straightened—hair that matches her peers, but hair that isn’t her own.
“That’s when I was first introduced to the idea that my hair was a problem because we had to straighten it,” Director of Detangling The Stigma, Jzayla Hughey speaks to an interviewee off-camera.
Detangling The Stigma was selected from 60 applications for series 8 of the Day One Shorts initiative. The documentary explores the challenges faced by the Afro community in Aotearoa while navigating a society that often pressures them to conform to Eurocentric beauty standards.
The crisp end-of-winter breeze bites the air in Albert Park as we search for a dry bench to sit on. The producer of Detangling The Stigma, Jennifer Onyeiwu, wears long braids that are styled half-up, half-down, the rest cascading over her shoulders and back. She holds a takeaway cup of tea in her hand, taking occasional sips to keep warm. Appearing on Jennifer’s laptop screen from Seville, Spain, Jzayla Hughey’s image is pixelated, but I can make out her bubbly expression and her curly hair, which is pulled back into a low bun.
The roots for Detangling The Stigma grew from Hughey pitching the documentary for her university scriptwriting class. Initially, the story wasn’t personal as she based it on a friend's experience with Afro-textured hair.
“I pitched this story, but I was using a friend of mine, so it wasn't my backstory,” Hughey explains. “I pitched it to the class, and that’s when I thought, ‘Oh, this could become something.’”
Hughey’s tutor was the one to suggest she take Detangling The Stigma to the Day One Stories initiative. After consulting with Day One Shorts, Hughey was encouraged to make the story more personal by drawing from her own experiences. Although the suggestion felt daunting at first - opening up about her vulnerability - Hughey knew that reshaping the script to reflect her journey would be the key to advancing in the Day One Shorts initiative.
After revising her pitch, Detangling The Stigma was chosen as one of eight short films to receive funding and production support from Day One Stories.
Once the funding was secured, the real challenges began - navigating the hurdles that came with bringing the documentary to life. Onyeiwu acknowledges that timing was one of the key challenges during the filming process. With a playful eye roll, she adds, “Finding locations is always such a dream. You get something locked, and then you're like, Oh no, it's it's not locked, that's okay. We need to find somewhere else.”
Detangling the Stigma
Despite the frustration, Onyeiwu reflects on the process with resilience, calling those minor setbacks “huge learning experiences” that helped shape the project.
Hughey reflects on how her own experiences have influenced her work. “For a lot of people with Afro-textured hair, the negative stigma starts early. For me, it began when I was five and just starting school. The uniform rules were strict—no Afros, no braids. I had to straighten my hair.”
She notes that this pressure to conform doesn’t fade with age. “This idea that our hair is a problem starts as early as five and carries through into adulthood, especially since straight hair has been pushed as the beauty standard. When I started my first professional job, I was told I needed to slick my hair back.”
“There were constant pressures to change my hair or alter my natural self, just to fit in with what everyone else was doing,” she adds.
Jennifer Onyeiwu reflects on an uncomfortable moment from her university days, one that still lingers in her memory. At the time, Onyeiwu was frequently wearing clip-in weaves to make her hair look straight. “One day, I didn’t have them in, and a friend saw my natural hair for the first time. I had straightened it a little, but it wasn’t fully straight,” she recalls.
Her friend’s reaction caught her off guard. “She touched my hair and said, ‘Oh my gosh, it feels like a carpet!’”
Onyeiwu grimaces, recalling the embarrassment and shame she felt. “The word ‘carpet’—that’s not what you want to hear when someone is talking about something attached to you.”
For Onyeiwu, having Afro-textured hair has not only made her feel different on a personal level but has also impacted her experience in the workplace.
Reflecting on her career in the film industry as an actor, an already emotionally taxing industry, Onyeiwu opens up about the anxiety that comes with stepping onto a set, knowing that she may have to do her own hair. “A lot of times when I step on set as an actor of colour, there's a lot of mental preparation that I have to do with my hair because you never know who's going to be in the hair department and the makeup department,” she explains.
This added burden not only creates a double standard but also adds extra pressure. While other actors can focus solely on their roles, Onyeiwu has the additional task of managing her hair. This imbalance highlights a broader issue in the industry: many make-up and hair stylists lack the training to work with Afro-textured hair, leaving actors like Onyeiwu with fewer resources and less support.
Onyeiwu points out that this gap in knowledge isn’t limited to New Zealand. “There are still certificates that don’t include Afro-tex-
tured hair,” she notes. “In the UK, the National Occupational Standards for hairdressing only began including Afro hair in 2021. That’s recent. When you compare that to somewhere like Aotearoa, where there’s growing diversity, it shows how much further we still have to go.”
Detangling the Stigma weaves in snippets of archival footage, including a flashback of a young Hughey standing on a train platform. Her face, identical to the one I see on Onyeiwu’s screen during the interview, carries the same expression, though this younger version wears long, chemically straightened hair instead of her natural Afro.
“There’s been this lifelong pressure to be someone I’m not,” Hughey says in the documentary, her voice breaking as tears stream down her face. “When you’re forced to hide your natural self for so long, people don’t realise what that does to a person.”
Through heartfelt interviews, Detangling The Stigma captures the trials and triumphs of individuals on their journey toward hair acceptance. The documentary’s cinematography is notable for its soft lightness, adding a dreamlike quality to the narrative.
Inspirations behind Detangling the Stigma included visual influences from Solange’s work. Onyeiwu recalls the moment she first saw Hughey’s director’s treatment. “Hughey did something incredibly amazing—her director's treatment was stunning. It was feminine, it was beautiful, and she put a lot of work into it.”
Onyeiwu adds, “There was this incredible mood board, and as soon as I read it, I could see the vision. One thing that stuck with me was how she drew inspiration from Solange’s music videos. I remember thinking, ‘I’m seeing the strength, the femininity, and the Blackness.’”
At its heart, Detangling The Stigma is a story of self-acceptance and authenticity. The film reflects the delicate balance between the pain of hiding one’s identity and the joy of reclaiming it. Hughey echoes this sentiment, “While the documentary focuses on hair and encouraging people to embrace diverse hair types, it’s really about embracing and being proud of your natural self—without feeling the need to change anything about who you are or your culture just to fit in.”
As the Afro community in Aotearoa continues to grapple with the pressures of conforming to Eurocentric beauty standards, Detangling the Stigma offers a hopeful vision of a future where diversity is not only acknowledged but celebrated.
Detangling The Stigma from Day One Shorts 2024 is free to view on the Day One website, as well as YouTube, Whakaata Maori and RNZ online.
Cinema is H-O-T-T-O-G-O
Ah, the holy sanctum of cinema. When you walk through the hallowed lobby of your favourite cinema, a flurry of excited anticipation permeates the air with the added buttery aroma of popcorn. The lights dim, and the film begins. For two hours (or more if a film by James Cameron or Christopher Nolan), you are transported to another world. Whether it be the meticulously crafted and grand Middle Earth in Lord of the Rings or the prison break of dinosaurs on Isla Nublar in Jurassic Park, we constantly return to these films to be enthralled. The fans and audiences of these films escape their own world to enter one where imagination kindles and excitement blazes.
As we embark upon journeys into these near or far worlds, relationships develop with characters. Cultural icons like Hannibal Lecter, Ellen Ripley, and Captain Jack Sparrow personify this idea. We are immersed in their worlds.
While partaking in the ritual of watching a film, audiences reach peak delight. They scream with excitement as their hero triumphs or fall into a nadir of anxious anticipation or melancholy when their characters are faced with adversity. The emotional rollercoaster of great cinema is an energising force. Afterwards, even for a week, you are sometimes gripped with euphoria. There is an added vibrancy to life. The world is different from before.
Many punters feel that films themselves are lacking. Films are great experiences, yet the medium seems to be dying, instead being replaced with streaming, gaming, and social media. With modern films being part of a larger cinematic universe or based on previous IP, many cinephiles, cultural critics, and audiences are left with questions. Is cinema dead? They may ask. Or is it a sign of the times?
Cinema! Fuck yeah!
“Film as dream, film as music. No form of art goes beyond ordinary consciousness as film does, straight to our emotions, deep into the twilight room of the soul.” Ingmar Bergman.
Some days, the encumbrance of life weighs us down. You get a blanket, a few snacks, and put on that silly rom-com or an animated film that never ceases to make you laugh. Slowly, the troubles of the day peter away. Like a ghost, you exist outside yourself for a few blissful hours.
Psychology Today notes that comfort movies require “no guesswork, cliffhangers, or stressful anticipation when watching an old favourite — which makes it easier for our tired, overloaded brains to process.” The swirling existential problems of life sometimes get in our heads; we lose ourselves, and our
mental and spiritual selves decay. But our comfort films restore our hope as they grasp us and hug us tight. They act as the comfort zone that is always there. The film is tied to our souls.
The out-of-body experience felt with a film is accredited to showing us personal narratives removed from our own. Only in the cinema can you be exposed to stories and be educated through a character’s life you could never imagine living. Famed film critic Roger Ebert said, “Film is an empathy machine — you can learn a lot about the complexity and diversity of the human experience.” Film audiences will hopefully never be in an asylum with mentally ill criminals like One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest, but we feel empathic to society’s most depraved. In the film, the audience is challenged to consider how we can keep our humanity when it’s easier to exploit those deemed lower than us. Another is The Exorcist, where audiences are exposed to the idea of what they would do when their religion is challenged. Through Father Damian Karras, it presents the scenario of how a worldview can change when personal faith fails.
Vital to an age where we are isolated in our own algorithmic hypnotism of social media, audiences can be exposed to longer, more in-depth, new stories with cinema. Whether it be cultural, sexual, religious, or any other theme, audiences can come to the cinema to be enlightened and wrestle with these newfound ideas. Extroverts and introverts are united under one roof and are entertained whilst pondering what it means to be human in this world.
Along with catharsis, cinema is a greenhouse for creativity to grow, serving as a fountain of opportunity to flourish. Cinema propels us into inspiration with tropes of being the underdog, doing the impossible, or taking the high road. Films like Up, Do the Right Thing, Cool Runnings, Whiplash, Good Will Hunting, or Dead Poets Society tell the audience in a concise message that they can do it. Life is hard, but films are the light in the night. A beacon to tomorrow. A sign of a day with endless possibilities that will get us out of our devouring abyss.
Manners Maketh A Cinema.
“Hey, it's me. Your old buddy Toecutter in the future, the world is a wasteland of sand and ash all because the downfall of society was brought upon by the callousness of humans. Do yourself a fucking favour and pretend to care. Turn off your cell phone and shut your face!” Hugh Keays-Byrne. Mad Max: Fury Road PSA for Alamo Drafthouse.
The idyllic imagery of what films are and their potential is often shattered by the modern-day film-going experience. Children
H-O-T-T-O-G-O !
running in the aisles, the subdued chatter, the dismal projection, and the worst of all - the startling ringing and distracting vivid glow of a mobile phone.
These satanic devices have become the bane of watching any film-going experience. In the last year, I have seen people enter cinemas late with their flashlights on to find seats. People were videoing the film, and the most disturbing: someone in front of me was watching porn with full brightness. All of these can be enough to push you away from a cinema and instead watch YouTube or Netflix. However, films are special. There is nothing like sitting in a darkened room with strangers and experiencing something great or terrible with strangers. United in the fact that the film has affected everyone in different ways. A study out of the City College of New York has observed audiences have “synchronised” heartbeats when they are engaged in a film. When we watch a film, it isn’t just an emotional response to what we see and hear, but a soul-awakening experience. The same study showed that being distracted during a film does the opposite.
You sit there in the dental chair and watch the most banall shows like Doc McStuffins or Coronation Street. There are always waiting rooms at the doctors or the fish and chips shop that will play the daily soaps or sports. Aeroplanes are a common place where people are trapped to watch films, à la Ludovico’s Technique in A Clockwork Orange. We live in an ultra-busy world, but the answer is not to engage with the chaos but to go to the cinema and, as an audience, feel the film together and come out revitalised.
Cinema is like Tears in the Rain.
“My dentist said to me the other day: I've enough problems in my life, so why should I see your films?”
David Cronenberg
Every month or so, Twitter Gremlins (or X Orcs) of the internet decry that cinema is dying. This year, when Furiosa, Fall Guy, Garfield, and Planet of the Apes had poor opening and second weeks at the box office, again, people decried “the end is near”. Soon enough, the crying subsided with the premiere of Long Legs and the bombastic success of Deadpool and Wolverine. Nonetheless, the concern exists. And who can blame the general populous for stopping going to the cinema? Not only are the prices of tickets exorbitant, audience etiquette is also lacking.
Cinema’s creative prowess has also taken a back seat. Studios have transformed into corporate offices that fund and promote films based on intellectual property (IP) rather than films with fresh and compelling concepts. This year alone, from my own
counting, around 30 films (that have come out and are coming out) are adapted or sequels. The reason for this is simple. Money. Audiences will pay for a sequel to a film they liked or to one where the IP being adapted is one they enjoy or know. The consequence of this is a cinema experience full of cliffhangers and “parts”. Instead of seeing something new, society will pay to see parts of Dune and Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning. Cinema then becomes made up of vacuous marketing schemes and billboards for IP, rrather than a medium that showcases directorial ability and exposes audiences to unique points of view.
Increasingly, people are becoming uninterested in films as a whole as we live in an age of hypercontent saturation galore. Our media diet is tumbling towards a famine. Finding a good film is hard if you don’t know where to look. Having friends as cinephiles can be helpful and equally annoying with their elaborate and often pretentious takes. Most audiences want a good film, yet we live in a time where we are paralysed by the choice of what content to watch. Film is often put to the side for safer, more consumable products like TikToks and other curated online media.
Audiences can benefit by diversifying and consuming older films, indie films, or foreign films. As Parasite director Bong Joon-ho has said, “Once you overcome the one-inch tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films.” There are a plethora of possibilities within cinema. To starve or limit ourselves from these possibilities, we deprive ourselves of understanding the essence of the human condition.
Written By Nathan
Brainy Bites: Feeding Your Gut to Fuel Your Mind
Those who came before us say that student years are the best, and to enjoy them while they last. But with eye bags so big they could carry all the groceries in one trip, plus a scheduled breakdown every other week, it’s almost impossible to be optimistic anymore.
Most of us fit the stereotype; our entire student existence is wired on mental chaos and two-minute ramen. But is one related to the other? To what extent does our gut health impact our mental health? I never considered it. I fought my lactose and gluten intolerance every time I ordered a flat white with cow’s milk or ate pesto pasta for dinner, staunchly telling myself, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Against my will, a dear friend switched me over to a lactose and gluten-free diet while simultaneously adding in more vegetables, promising that my mind would feel better if my body did too. I didn’t enjoy it; the thought of red lentil pasta made me cringe. But I was feeling better in two weeks, and it wasn’t just because I no longer had to stockpile toilet paper. I wasn’t sluggish or bloated like before, desperately needing a post-lunch siesta.
And et voilà!—my mental health had noticeably improved. Suddenly, that pasta didn’t seem so bad after all. Sure, we could argue that this scenario is relative, and everyone’s body is different. However, new and upcoming research reveals at something more than just intolerances and personal quirks. It’s not a coincidence; there is a link between what we eat and how we feel—a more intentional connection between the gut and the brain. It’s not only for those who suffer from pre-existing conditions; this relationship affects each and every one of us, often in ways that we are only beginning to comprehend.
The gut is often referred to as the ‘second brain’. It is lined with millions of nerve cells called neurones and trillions of microorganisms, widely known as microbiota. These microbiota are imperative to many bodily functions, such as digestion, metabolism regulation, and influencing our mood and mental health. Ninety per cent of the ‘happy hormone’ serotonin is produced in our gut; when the gut is inflamed or unbalanced due to poor diet, stress, lack of sleep, or illness, it can result in decreased serotonin production, followed by feelings of anxiety or depression. Half the time, we can’t pinpoint why we have that bad “gut feeling”.
The gut-brain connection is a complex relationship involving hormones, the immune system, and the nervous system. It's not just about serotonin; the gut-brain axis, a two-way communication between the gut and the brain, plays a crucial role. Hormones like cortisol, released during moments of stress, can disrupt gut function, leading to digestive issues that, in turn, worsen stress—a vicious cycle. The immune system also contributes; when the gut is compromised, it can lead to inflammation,
Written By Ishani Mathur (she/her) @vohnriladki CONTRIBUTING WRITER
which is linked to various mental health issues, including anxiety and cognitive decline. For students, who often face constant stress and poor eating habits, this imbalance can significantly affect both physical comfort and mental well-being. Disrupted digestion and chronic stress can create a loop, where each factor worsens the other, making it challenging to escape the cycle of anxiety, depression, and fatigue.
So, how do we manage this intricate system, especially when life is hectic and time and money are tight? To shed some light on this, I consulted Dr Thoma, a lecturer at AUT’s School of Public Health and Interdisciplinary Studies. According to Dr Thoma, managing gut health doesn’t require drastic changes or expensive regimens. It’s about making small, sustainable adjustments that fit into our lives.
Some simple solutions he recommended are to eat at regular intervals, avoid processed foods, and incorporate more whole foods into our diet—foods that are rich in fiber, like fruits, vegetables, and whole grains. These foods nourish the gut microbiome, promoting a healthy balance of bacteria that can support both gut and mental health.
Dr Thoma also believes in a multidisciplinary approach, emphasising the importance of reducing stress. Chronic stress can wreak havoc on the gut, leading to a cycle of poor digestion and increased anxiety. Practices like mindfulness, meditation, or even just taking a few minutes each day to breathe deeply can make a significant difference. Ensuring a regular sleep routine and creating a restful environment can also help support both gut health and mental clarity. And while exercise is often touted for its physical benefits, it also plays a key role in maintaining a healthy gut. Regular physical activity, even just a short walk in the park, can enhance gut motility and reduce inflammation, both of which are essential for a healthy gut-brain axis.
The takeaway? Maintaining gut health isn’t about perfection— it’s about consistency. It’s not just about eating more veggies or taking a probiotic; everybody is different and reacts in its own way. It’s about creating a lifestyle that suits and supports balance in YOUR body. And this balance goes beyond the student years, setting the foundation for long-term health.
It’s easy to reach for convenience when life gets hectic, but perhaps we should think twice before grabbing that packet of two-minute ramen. The choices we make today—what we eat, how we manage stress and sleep—aren’t just about the present moment. They are about nurturing a spectrum of rest, digestion, and healing, rather than spiralling into a cycle of stress, fight, and flight. Because, after all, you are what you eat.
