THE UNSW QUEER COLLECTIVE MAGAZINE
QUEER WRITES
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Contents II
Editors Letter
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// HER // Photos From Mardi Gras How to say you hate men until he messages you first I once shat myself at the gym, it wasnt the biggest poop but I still had to leave immediately Queer Fortunes Edgar Allen Ho Queer Shot - An Intimate Look at Queer Interior Life Autumn Crocus
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Editors Letter Head Editor Lungol Wekina Editors Eric Qian Jacqui Orme Administration Valerie Ho Head Designer Indi Sofyar Cover Art Shu Li Art Annabelle Cheung Indi Sofyar Articles Charlie Bradford Ollie Watson
Welcome to the brand new (sparkly) Queer Writes. We are the voice of the LGBTQIA+ student body here at UNSW, and we are proudly brought to you by your SRC’s Queer Collective. We bring you all things topical, funny, creative, thirsty, and artistic by some of your favourite queers on campus! In this edition, we pay homage to the stunning trans icon Laverne Cox. Cox has had a prolific film career, and was the first out transgender woman to be nominated for a primetime emmy award in any acting category. She has also appeared on the cover of Time Magazine and is a proud advocate for the transgender community and LGBTQIA+ rights. Our history as a community is so often untold and forgotten – as such, Queer Writes hopes to keep it alive every edition by giving you covers celebrating the people that have fought so hard before us and those who continue to do so among us. So keep an eye out every three weeks for your tri-weekly dose of education, creativity, and good old-fashioned mess.
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// HER // By Caity B.
her kisses of gin and smoke chosen poisons implanted on my tongue a musky bittersweet flavour that left me longing for more
she started to “monologue” a cascade of her truths I was absorbed by her energy honoured to bare witness to such glorious existence my heart thudded to the beat of her
when we went to her bed I wasn’t apologising there were no racing thoughts as I breathed in her essence and felt alive
because she didn’t set the guidelines the rules and expectations of what defines “beauty” and who we should please if I’m with a man I get caught up in how I’m supposed to be but with her it’s easy. I yearn for that freedom again.
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Photos From Mardi Gras By Annabelle Cheung
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How to say you hate men until he messages you rst By Ollie Watson
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t’s the mantra of the times: men suck. Whether you
the past three days? Give him a taste of his own
are laughing about it over brunch, stitching it into a
medicine, and leave that message sitting in your
decorative tea towels, or whispering it to yourself as
inbox for seventeen minutes. That will really make up
you scrollthrough his Instagram in your bed at 1am,
for the past 72 hours.
we’ve all been there! Nothing is more on-brand for a male -attracted person of the times than constantly reiterating your disgust at men in general, especially at those moments you’re pining after them the most. Complaining about their lack of consideration, encyclopaedic knowledge of car makes, and disdain for astrology is a well-known therapeutic activity, and frankly, it’s what you’re known for. At this point, you have become your friends’ go-to whenever they need to complain about men, because you’re so damn good at it. While there is never a bad time to complain about a man’s poor communication skills, poor relationship with grooming or obsession with Reddit, it’s especially easy to do when it’s radio silence on his end. You know when you were the last one to start a conversation on messenger, you know he has been online three times in the past hour, and you know his phone has a twelve-hour battery life, and these are the perfect facts to fuel your righteous outrage. But how do you keep the same moral anger when he finally messages you first? There are three important points to remember:
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He’s messaged you first, sure, but why has it taken him this long? You may be overjoyed
with the knowledge that out of everyone in his life, in the past five minutes he has chosen to talk to you, but try and temper that joy with a bit of perspective: who has he been messaging instead of you for
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What has he messaged you about? Is he complaining about his uni workload? His
exam timetable? How stressed he is balancing his extensive social life that doesn’t seem to involve you with work commitments? Before you complete that online counselling course so that you can be the best shoulder for him to cry on out of all the other shoulders he has access to, ask yourself: does he want to talk to me, or at me? Knowing isn’t going to stop you playing psychologist for the next hour, but you can still be mad about it.
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Finally, how often does this happen? If this is the first time there has been a lull in his
responsiveness, you were probably justifying it to yourself that he was busy spending time with his family that he said he doesn’t get along with, or catching up on an assignment you know he doesn’t have! But if this was only the latest occasion in a series of ghostings, let that anger flow! Without proof in the form of hourly updates on his Instagram story, it’s safe to assume the worst: that he’s deliberately avoiding making plans with you because you’re annoying and unattractive. So, whenever you’re struggling to maintain your image of righteous outrage at men because he sent you a message and now you’ve put your life on hold to plan your future wedding with him, remember to hone in on all his flaws! Love is good, but the clout you garner from #relatable social media posts is better, and there’s no better way to relate to your audience than complaining about men.
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ww I ONCE SHAT MYSELF AT THE GYM , IT WASNT THE BIGGEST POOP BUT I STILL HAD TO LEAVE IMMEDIATELY By Charlie Bradford
Poor hand-eye coordination paired with numerous
what a gay man should look like, be it at a pride
injuries to keep me out of most team sports
parade, in a movie, or even in porn, they had perfect
throughout highschool and archery, while fun, is not
bodies. That had never felt more out of reach to me.
the most physically demanding of activities. After
I felt like a failure.
graduation, I wanted to change everything. I joined a gym, started a routine, and kept at it for two solid
I spent a lot of time just reading about going to the
weeks. Then I got glandular fever. Boy oh boy was
gym, as if it were some proxy for actually attending.
that bad. I was sleeping 16 hours a day and lost 25
Eventually I found a program that I really liked
kilos in 3 months. So that’s how I entered my adult
the look of (5/3/1 for beginners). So on a Sunday
life, at 185 cm tall, 59 kg heavy and with some real
evening I flipped a coin. Heads, I set an alarm for
bad feelings about my body.
5:45 and go the gym in the morning, tails, I don’t. The coin landed on tails so I flipped it two more
Gyms shouldn’t be scary but they kind of are.
times until I got heads. Then at 5:50 I flipped it until
Especially if you feel like you’re too thin or too
I got tails and could go back to the bed. I ended up
fat or too weak. This made returning to the gym
walking into the gym a bit after 9. It was emptier
much harder for me than going initially. When I
than the first time, which was nice. Figuring out
finally felt like I was well enough to go back, first
when the gym was emptiest really helped me in the
I procrastinated and lied to myself for two weeks,
first couple months. I exercised for 45 minutes and
then I finally went, getting there just before 6 on
then went home. No dropped weights, no dramas.
a Monday morning because Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson told me that’s what successful people
Slowly but surely things started going better, by
do. I prepared to deadlift, loading up the bar with
the time August of my first year of uni rolled around
the same weights I’d been using before I got sick.
I finally felt alright on less than 10 hours of sleep.
Obviously no warm up. Clearly only suckers do
I found a harder program that had me in the gym
warm ups. The weight nearly got to my knees
nearly everyday (nSuns six-day squat program). I
before I had to put it down. I looked around, had
could pick up very heavy weights by my previous
anyone seen me embarrass myself like that? Failing
standards and even ended placing in a local
the first rep of the day, pitiful.
powerlifting competition. But I grew arrogant. I was due to try and set a new squat PR but I had
When I got home from that first session I looked in
had a spot of food poisoning. “It must be out of my
the mirror for a long time. I mentally noted all the
system,” I thought, foolishly. Alas it was not. And
things I didn’t like about my body. The too-visible
with a camera pointed at me, with 200 kilos on my
ribs, knobbly elbows, narrow shoulders. I’d finally
back, I pooed my pants.
tried to do something, and it had gone terribly. It was the same feeling as getting a terrible result for
https://youtu.be/giXuZZ8Tjmg
a test you’d studied hard for. I just felt frustrated and unmotivated. Every time I saw a depiction of
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QUEER FORTUNES Your reliable source for legitimate zodiacs
Aries
Taurus
Gemini
March 21 – April 19 Beware of changing tides today, Aries. Focus not on the big dick energy you project onto others but instead turn your attention to the big dick energy within. April 20 – May 20 Patriarchy getting you down? Call up arms and seize the means with full force comrade May 21 – June 21 Don’t be fooled by all the nicely curated vegan dishes on Instagram. At the end of the day they’ll be eating cup noodles and Tim Tam sandwiches just like the rest of us.
Cancer
June 22 – July 22 Stay wary of obstructions, Cancer. Your final evolution from a simple sugar baby to a rich white wine widow is coming.
July 23 – August 22 Just because your bisexual doesn’t mean your good at tap dancing. Sorry. Leo
Virgo
August 23 – September 22 Existence precedes essence. Unfortunately in your case neither are going too well. Keep at it darl.
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Libra
Scorpio
September 23 – October 23 Its libra season. Dress up in your favourite MCR gear to obtain extra spicy gay powers.
October 24 – November 22 Even though the liberals won the election. You can take comfort in the fact that your keep cup saved a turtles life.
December 22 – January 19 Be more gay.
Capricorn
Aquarius
February 19 – March 20 You are gay. And If you are not, JK rowling will make it so.
November 23 – December 21 The 891 bus will let you down today. Sagittarius
January 20 – February 18 If you have a quarter life crisis, don’t go blonde. Instead, go for something more exciting like a reverse mohawk or a big stack of fruit on
Pisces 9
EDGAR ALLEN HOE Written by Meriadoc Wilson, with assistance from Jordan Barnes and Leonard Grose. Originally read by Shu Li Lau for UNSW Queer Revue 2019
Once upon a midnight stormy, while I Grindr’d, queer and horny Over many a twink and bear on their profiles, torsos bare— While I dreamt of later fapping, suddenly there came a rappiWng, As of someone keenly tapping, who saw my pics and now wants more. “’Tis some trade,” I muttered, “seeking pics of my back door— Only this and nothing more.” Then this hunky jock beguiling my inner ho into smiling, By the confident allure of that suggestive pose he wore, “If thy rear be shorn and shaven, thou” he said, “art sure no craven.” So I showed my rear, all shaven, which I’d done just hours before. I threw in some well-shot dick pics that would seal the deal for sure— Quoth the Trade “Nice, any more?” “Babe,” said I, “what about you? What I sent you is brand new.” “Nay,” said he, “I don’t take pictures of what lurks beneath my britches. Asking you for what you’ve shown does not imply I’ll show my own.” “Fine,” said I, “I’ll see it soon whether bare or hair-festooned. I’ll send you one more portrait lewd to let you see what lies in store.” Quoth the Trade, “Nice, any more?” “Be that phrase our sign of parting, I’d have known it since our starting— You are just a catfish lurking; you’re the sort that I deplore. Leave no message as a token of the lies thy soul hath spoken!” And the catfish, never shirking, still is lurking, still is lurking— I’ll delete this app unholy, I’ll not send one hole pic more— I shall Grindr—nevermore!
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Queer Shot - An Intimate Look at Queer Interior Life Photos by Indi Sofyar
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– Autumn Crocus By Ashley Lim
It was the sixth murder in two weeks, and she was
out this late at night. The only source of light were
tired of it. So many years spent in the force, so
the flickering gas-lit lamps that lined the streets. Mist
many detectives working on the case, and still they
settled on Elena’s coat like a thin veil, chilling her to
had yet to catch the culprit. Dragging her fingers
the bone. Steeling her nerves, she started her journey
through messy, nutmeg-coloured hair, Lieutenant
home.
Elena Clarke was frustrated, exhausted, and most importantly: very, very hungry. But when one doesn’t
Cloaked in mist, the city was like a labyrinth, and
have a choice, one just has to keep soldiering on.
even her usual route was impossible to follow. Gone were the rowdy pubs with loud drunks stumbling
Glancing around the room, she noticed that her men
around; gone was the one bookstore that never shut
were either asleep at their desks or staring blankly
its doors, welcoming any late-night perusers; gone
into space. She sighed and slammed her casebook
was the small hostel that many university students
shut, startling them awake. They shouldn’t be here,
called home. Now there was only silence in the
she knew, when their families and hot dinners were
darkness, and every step she took brought her closer
waiting for them at home. Resigned, she gave them
to an unknown fate.
permission to retire for the rest of the night. How long had she been walking? It truly was too The relief on her subordinates’ faces was
difficult to tell whether she was headed in the right
immediately obvious, and the flurry of papers and
direction. She surveyed her surroundings, trying to
pens being stowed away into bags would have
get her bearings, but even the lamps had succumbed
amused Elena if not for her concern over the case.
to the damp chill and were snuffed out. As she
She had to admit that it wasn’t just the murders
blindly stumbled forward, she reached out in hopes
themselves that worried her, although that was
of touching something, anything.
definitely a source of distress, what with men strong, healthy, youthful men - vanishing off the
When she first saw a faint glow in the distance,
streets and found dead a couple of mornings later.
fading in and out like a candle just before it
There were no signs of foul play, no injuries or
extinguishes, she wondered whether she was
wounds anywhere. Oddly enough, the victims were
dreaming. Rubbing her eyes, she peered through the
also found without a single piece of clothing on
fog to ascertain that the yellow-orange light was still
them, with a carefully placed purple flower protecting
there. As she drew closer to it, she realised it came
the last of their dignity.
from a lamp that was connected to a hand, then to
Her colleagues had refused to look at such a difficult
an arm, and as her gaze moved up, she met the eyes
case, leaving her to struggle on her own.
of a rather amused woman.
Gathering her things in her briefcase, she strode out
“Can I help you?” The woman asked, her lopsided
of the precinct. A blanket of thick fog had wrapped
smile creating a dimple in her cheek. Her eyes were
itself around the city, sneaking through the streets
golden-brown, reflecting the light from her lamp,
and choking any passers-by who dared to venture
and her skin was smooth and fair. Elena noticed that
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she was not dressed for the weather, only clad in a
playing on her lips.
thin blouse and a long skirt that swished when she moved, and yet the woman did not appear cold in the
Elena froze under her touch, her eyes quickly
slightest.
glancing left and right, making sure that no one was watching. It would certainly be quite inappropriate
“If you don’t mind, miss,” Elena ventured. “Would
for her, as someone still in uniform, to reciprocate
you be able to escort me home? I just can’t find my
Amelia’s flirtatious gestures. Besides, they were also
way home in this ridiculous fog, and your light would
at a funeral, and could there be a less proper time to
help me tremendously.”
woo someone?
The woman laughed and tossed her long, black hair
But Elena’s body refused to step away, and although
behind her, and her eyes shone just a little bit more.
she would usually have told off her courtier by now,
“Fog? Whatever do you mean?”
she just could not find the words to do so. Desperate to change their topic of conversation, Elena
Elena glanced around her in confusion. Just a few
looked around in search of something else to talk
seconds ago, the streets were dark and impossible
about. Spotting the flowers lying on the coffin, she
to navigate, yet now… The street lamps burned
recognised them as the very same ones Amelia was
bright, enveloping the city in their warmth. Elena
previously holding, and quickly pointed them out.
could clearly see office workers walking home,
“Those are some beautiful flowers. You must have
students chatting merrily amongst themselves,
known him quite well.”
couples talking quietly as they held hands or kissed under lamp-posts.
“One could say that.” With obvious disappointment in her eyes, Amelia patted her cheek and stepped
“What in the world?” When she turned back, the
away; Elena fleetingly caught the sweet scent of
woman had vanished. Absolutely flummoxed, Elena
apples as she did so. “I should be leaving now. My
spun in a circle, searching for the woman with the
flowers just cannot survive without me.”
lamp, but she was nowhere to be found. Elena never had the chance to acquire her name.
“Are you a florist?” Elena asked, intrigued. She looked at the flowers again, forcing herself to recall
A week and four deaths later, they met again. Elena
when and where she had last seen them. “Did you
first spotted her across the funeral hall, a pale
grow those yourself?”
woman clad in black and clutching a bouquet of flowers. It was impossible to miss her beauty, even
“Certainly. Not many are well-versed in the
when it was covered by a thin veil. She wondered
cultivation of such flowers, and even fewer
whether the woman was somehow related to the
understand how to use them properly.”
deceased, one of the murder victims she had found over the week.
“For example,” Elena prompted, pointing to the bouquet, “this is…”
Quietly approaching the woman, Elena cleared her throat to politely announce her presence. The
“Colchicum autumnale,” Amelia finished. “A Polish
woman turned, her eyebrows raised, and smiled
cryptologist, Rózycki, once said it would suffice to
in recognition. “What a coincidence,” Elena said,
bite into and suck at a couple of stalks in order to
offering a hand. “We meet again, miss…”
attain eternity.”
“Murray,” the woman offered. “Amelia Murray. Nice
Elena watched her uneasily. “What did he mean by
to meet you again, Lieutenant Clarke.”
that?”
Elena raised her eyebrows in surprise. “How did you
Amelia sent her a sly grin and ran her hand along
know my name?”
the coffin before turning to leave. “Until next time, Lieutenant Clarke.”
“I’ve heard talk of a rather attractive policewoman who was in charge of his case,” Amelia explained,
Staring at the mysterious woman’s retreating back,
“and you do look quite spiffy in that uniform of
Elena wondered whether she might have just met her
yours.” Approaching her, she reached out and
killer. And even worse, she might be falling for her.
smoothened out the lines on Elena’s collar, a smirk
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