Our magazine, Salient, is run by students for students. Without the involvement of students, we wouldn't be able to operate. Every year, we welcome pitches and inquiries from individuals who are interested in writing for us. For more information, please email editor@salient.org.nz or visit our website at salient.org.nz.
03 EDITORIAL | ĒTITA 04 LOST & FOUND | KHAI DYE-BRINKMAN (they/them) 06 WHAKAIRO TAKATĀPUI | BASIL PENWARDEN (they/ia) 09 GET IN GEHIND | ONJEI BOND (he/him) 13 LIFE ON THE EDGE OF NZ'S QUEER HISTORY | MAGENTA MUDGWAY (they/he) 15 GOOD EPILOGUES | ZIA RAVENSCROFT (he/they) 19 HOROSCOPES 22 RANKING THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING BASED ON HOW MUCH TBOY SWAG I THINK THEY HAVE | LEGOLOSCAR ARAGOROBBIE (he/him) 27 COLUMNS | TĪWAE 31 PODCASTS | KŌNAE IPURANGI 28 POETRY & PROSE | AUAHATANGA 30 PUZZLES | PANGA 32 PACIFIC NATIONS & LANGUAGES | MAUATUA FA'ARA-REYNOLDS (she/they), ASHLEIGH PUTT-FALLOWS (she/her/ia) 33 THE NEWS | KAWEPŪRONGO find us
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Salient is published by, but remains editorially independent from, the Victoria University of Wellington Student's Association (VUWSA). Salient is funded in part by VUWSA through Student Services Levy. Salient is a member of the Aotearoa Student Press Association (ASPA).
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When I was younger, before I knew I was a trans woman, I used to wish I was a gay man. In high school I had seen the way the gay guys were surrounded by a gaggle of girl friends and I wanted in. At first I thought it was because I was attracted to the girls, that's why I wanted to be around them, but as I grew older and discovered certain things about myself I began to realise that what I really wanted was just to be part of their group. I felt like I needed an invitation into girlhood.
Last year, I found myself on a drive with a gaggle of my own gal pals. Speeding down the coast, playing Taylor Swift on the radio as loud as it could go and singing their blessed hearts out, I realised that was it. I'd never needed an invitation, I was already there.
This year's Queerlient is centred around that feeling: Invitation. I want to welcome you, the reader, into the intimate. With a focus on lesser-known aspects of queer life, history, and personal interests, I hope this issue can open a door, or at the very least offer a peek through the curtain, to the smaller worlds of queer existence that you wouldn't normally get to see from the outside.
And while I’m normally not a big Swiftie, even I found something special on that car ride. So with luck you’ll find something new and unexpected to love here too.
UniQ President Khai tells us how they learned to embrace their queerness even when it was frightening, while Basil invites you to understand the place takatāpui identities hold in our culture. We have dives into queer history, local and international, and invitations of all sorts to a better understanding of the myriad experiences our people have to offer.
However, please understand that Queerlient can only show so much. It's a tiny glimpse of a broad and diverse community and even a dedicated student magazine can never fully represent us.
This is a snapshot of other worlds, so know that these worlds are separate. Queer worlds are forever detached from the mainstream, and while you don't always need an invitation, these are spaces we have fought to build for ourselves and we will fight to keep them.
So please enjoy this sneaky peek into our space. Stay a while if you like, we’ve got room to spare.
Goose (she/they)
LOS FO ND -
Have you ever gotten hopelessly lost in IKEA? That, my friends, is what my existence felt like. Endless aisles of societal expectations, cryptic assembly instructions for "perfect lives," and the constant fear of winding up in the suffocating department of heteronormativity. That's what navigating life as a teenager felt like for me. Everyone else seemed to have a pre-built roadmap, complete with clear exits labelled "relationships" and "happily ever afters." But mine just led to a dimly lit corner marked "questioning everything."
question that highlights the societal obsession with boxes. But guess what? Queerness doesn't fit in any of them. There's no one-size-fits-all way to be queer, and that's what makes our community so beautiful. We're a kaleidoscope of experiences and emotions, a constantly evolving masterpiece. And guess what? Embracing that fluidity is liberating.
This journey of self-discovery led me to become the president of the student-led queer rep group on campus, UniQ. It was a space that on the outside might seem like a token club on campus, but we envisioned something more—a vibrant community hub, a safe space for LGBTQ+ folks to connect, celebrate, and advocate for themselves. Friday spaces where stressed students can come have a snack and study together, upcoming workshops on everything from navigating our collective queer history to how to pick up some essential life skills. Movie nights showcasing a diverse range of LGBTQ+ cinema, challenging stereotypes, and sparking thoughtprovoking conversations. Each event laid a brick in the foundation of a more inclusive campus culture. Within the walls of UniQ, there is a sense of solidarity that transcends adversity. We learn from each other’s experiences, offering a shoulder to cry on during struggles, and a chorus of cheers during triumphs. It is a space where vulnerability isn’t a weakness but a source of strength, reminding us that we weren’t alone in navigating this ever-evolving landscape of identity.
This is your official invitation to join us, to anyone who feels lost in the labyrinth of societal expectations. Here, your "wait, is this normal?" becomes a badge of honour, a testament to your authenticity. Let your queerness be your compass, guiding you towards a life filled with authenticity, love, and a sense of belonging that's more fulfilling than any beanbag chair. Trust me, we have snacks—and more importantly, we have each other. We're a vibrant tapestry, and there's a space waiting for your thread to join the beautiful, ever-evolving masterpiece that is our community.
WHAKAIRO TAKATĀPUI:
words by Basil Penwarden (they/ia) belonging in intersectionality art by Te Huihui o Matariki Chi Huy Tran (he/him)
Taranaki Tūturu, Te iwi o Maruwharanui, Ngāti Maniapoto
Ko Nukutaimemeha rāua ko Tākitimu tōku waka,
Ko Mauao tōku maunga, Ko Tauranga Moana tōku moana, Ko Ngāti Porou tōku iwi, Nō Uawa ahau, Ko Tuhiwai rāua ko Penwarden tōku whānau, Ko Basil ahau.
My place in the world has always been one of struggle. It has always been a fight of definition, of an argument, of a reason I deserve to exist. And I’m sure this is a common experience for many queer individuals reading this: it is hard to exist in a space that was not made for you. Heoi anō, we have made a space to call our own. We have created community, celebration, pride. There is space for us as the LGBTQIA+ community to celebrate our nonconformity together.
And yet.
Somehow, even with this beautiful community at my back, I still feel like a part is missing from who I truly am.
I knew I was queer from an early age. By thirteen, I knew what I wanted, and I quickly learnt the necessities of knowing how to argue well; coming out meant knowing how to defend myself with big words and bigger ideas, logical fallacies were destroyed at my feet. I’m sure my mother got sick of me quickly, her social justice warrior child. I grew up with big ideas on what I wanted the world to look like, the equality I wanted to see in my local communities. Queerness has defined me for most of my life, but
for the longest time I hadn’t thought to consider where being Māori fit into that.
A quick note on deadbeat dads: mine never wanted anything to do with my life, frequently attempted to get out of paying child support, and has a new family over the ditch. I doubt he has cared about his own heritage even once. He has left my latest email on delivered for the last year, and my only real information about his life comes from being friends with his wife on Facebook. I learnt everything I know about our tūpuna from his sister.
My isolation from my Māori heritage always frustrated me. Mum didn’t care to know (“He wants nothing to do with you! I’m raising you, so it should be this side that matters to you. Sorry we’re not interesting enough.”). I was separated through time and space to find out from my Dad’s side of the family (rest in peace Nana Fran), so I often believed I would always be missing a part of myself, forever lost and unretrievable. My queerness became my safety net, a forged identity in absence of my whakapapa. However, that can only get you so far.
The knowledge has come slowly. I have surrounded myself with opportunities to learn about my heritage,
The decolonisation of my own queerness has made me feel infinitely more comfortable taking up the space that was always rightfully mine."
about queerness, and I am redefining at my own pace how these intersect for me. Sometimes I believe I will never fully know who I am, disconnected from my reo, my whenua, my hapū, my iwi. But often I am reminded that many of us are. Many of us are city Māori away from our iwi, colonised and missing parts of ourselves that can only be healed through time and tremendous effort as a community. Reconnecting with pūtaiao and mātauranga in ways that serve us now, as a 21st century Māori society.
Thinking this way, becoming more familiar with the knowledge of my tūpuna, I stumbled across the term takatāpui just a couple years ago. I can’t fully describe in words what it felt like, but as my gift to you, dear readers (I’ve been watching too much Bridgerton lately sorry not sorry), I will try. It’s like when the ringing in your ears finally dissipates. I had carved a space for myself over and over, feeling uncomfortable and alone every time I tried—only to carve into an opening full of waiting arms, ready to embrace me just as I am. I discovered a space that had been ready and waiting for me to return for a long time. My understanding of myself had been stolen from me, I had been alienated from a historical truth; people like me had always existed. Queer Māori people had always existed, and they had been welcomed, celebrated. What I was missing in the LGBTQIA+ community I had found here: a cultural understanding of queerness. Takatāpui.
The most important part about this discovery for me was the inherentness of takatāpui as an identity. There was no one strict definition under takatāpui, just an inherent understanding of queerness in conjunction with Māoriness. Somewhere where the two were
inextricably linked; both were necessary and could not survive without the other in the definition of being. Now when I think of my body, I am less inclined to think about gender. I am drawn to the koha nature that is my connection to Papatūānuku, that I bleed once a month is not a symbol of dysphoria but one of whakapapa and connection. I think of Porourangi, of Hingangaroa and Iranui, of Matengauroa, my great-grandmother. I am not ‘girl’ or ‘woman’, but takatāpui, ia. I am everything that came before me and everything that will come after, in a line of always-has-been of whakapapa. When I talk about my queerness without cultural understanding, I feel like a part of me is missing, that my words lack the nuance they should carry. I speak with the weight of implications that aren’t understood. I am not nonbinary in the sense I am not man or woman, I am takatāpui in the way that I have come from the whenua and my whakapapa.
The decolonisation of my own queerness has made me feel infinitely more comfortable taking up the space that was always rightfully mine. It is easy to feel outcast in a society that doesn’t want you, easy to feel invisible and shunned. But as takatāpui, I know that I have always been part of Te Ao Māori, others like me have always existed, and the space we have carved always belonged to us. Instead of feeling like a burden pushing to take up space, I am reclaiming and inviting others to do the same.
Instead of carving for our space to exist, let us carve to decorate. Let our whakairo be ātaahua, let our found whānau be welcoming and bright, in a space not only made to be functional, but to be celebrated. We are not just queer, not just Māori, but both.
She did drag performances whilst serving compulsory military service. She was Queen of the red-light district—and is now the green-light symbol all down Cuba. Credited as being a huge influence for Georgina Beyer, she campaigned for Mayor eighteen years before, with the cheeky farmer-esque slogan: “GET IN BEHIND!”. Friends with Dana de Milo, (of Aunty Dana’s fame), and the winner of the hugely influential court case, POLICE VS RUPE, three years before Stonewall. She showed up to parliament to apologise for libel dressed all in black and stepping out of a limo, and three days later appeared shirtless at the Trentham races. Occasionally, she’d sleep in a coffin.
Named outrageous, illegal, the Queen of Queens and “the most visible transgender New Zealander of her time”, this whakawāhine paved the way for transgender rights as we know it in Aotearoa New Zealand.
And yet, for the four years I’ve lived in Wellington, I thought the woman in the traffic light was a metaphorical drag queen, a sort of Queer national personification.
Say hello to Carmen Rupe, trailblazer, revolutionary, and a figure you’ve definitely seen but possibly never recognised.
early life
Carmen grew up with six siblings in Taumarunui, close with her mother and exploring feminine aspects from an early age. She was particularly inspired by the late World War II victory rolls and, unrelatedly, nuns.
At 18 she was called for compulsory military service. During this time, she put on a drag performance for her peers, titled Ballet Latrines Les Girls, and inspired by the infamous Sydney club of the same name.
After her service, Rupe worked as a nurse before travelling and working in Sydney as a performer. It was at this point she chose her name, from the titular Carmen in The Loves of Carmen.
In Sydney, she started to fully lean into performing, learning several of her key acts—including her infamous performance with two diamond pythons, both two meters long. The act was inspired by the movie Cobra Woman, and involved careful manoeuvring of the two very large reptiles—named Simba and Topaz—who “used to coil around my wig [making it] fall off my head while I was dancing”.
Another common act was her signature finishing performance. As her show came to a close, she’d remove her wig for her final dramatic reveal—the fact she was assigned male at birth—a scene I can only imagine as a less dramatic Sasha Velour performance, a wig cap appearing instead of a cascade of rose petals.
She would go on to travel to Auckland from Sydney, working along the Waterfront for a few years—briefly meeting Dana De Milo—before finally moving to Wellington and opening her infamous venues.
coffee on the balcony
In 1967 she set up permanent shop on Vivian Street, opening ‘Carmen’s International Coffee Lounge’—a Café-slash-brothel which ran from six to six, was vandalised often, and was frequently raided by cops.
She describes how, when she first opened it, she “painted the whole place red, with purple carpets and black leather furniture and all the staff were drag queens, female impersonators and also gay guys”.
It was at this Coffee Lounge that Carmen Rupe and Georgina Beyer would meet, Beyer meeting Rupe when she was 16 and had first moved to Wellington. She would later work for Carmen at the Lounge, describing how “the law worked against us so we had to live in this twilight zone. Camen was an omnipresent figure...she protected us from the haters and homophobes”.
police v rupe
Beyer was not the only famous figure to work for Rupe. Dana De Milo worked for a time at ‘The Balcony’, picking up the last name ‘De Milo’ on Rupe’s advice. In fact, all of Rupe’s employees were queer, most ‘transsexual’ women and/or drag queens, and some lesbians and gay men. She would later describe how "all the drag queens I had working for me were very, very stunning and beautiful. They used to wear a lot of wigs, a lot of makeup and lovely miniskirts or split dresses and low-top dresses”.
Carmen soon had to open another venue to serve the people waiting in line to enter the Coffee Lounge, which she named ‘The Peacock’. She went on to open several further storefronts: on Cuba was ‘The Egyptian Tearoom’, ‘Carmen’s Down Town’, and an antique store named ‘Carmen’s Curios’; on Vivian she opened ‘Cleopatra’s Coffee Lounge’; and, in Hataitai, a bedroom-brothel-slash-hotel called ‘The Cottage’.
Finally, in 1960, Carmen opened her most famous venue. ‘The Balcony’, a nightclub on Victoria. It was located where Te Matapihi Ki Te Ao Nui, The Wellington Central Library, is now.
Being the host, Carmen was there nightly—“dressed up as a madam, you know, a classy madam, tits hanging out and split dresses"—performing, working, and keeping an eye on the crowd. She called Wellington “The Vice capital of New Zealand”, proven by her brazen claim on Tonight at Nine that some of the most influential and homophobic politicians of the time frequented her establishments—being homosexual or bisexual themselves.
It was this claim that would lead to her appearance at the Parliament's Privileges Committee, called in by then-PM Robert Muldoon on charges of libel.
She arrived in a limo.
De Milo describes how “they, [parliament] made a big thing out of it and she never even apologised. She said ‘I never’ even when it came down to it”.
Historically, gay bars in the states would get raided by cops looking for those in the ‘wrong’ clothing— enforcing laws against ‘crossdressing’. This practise sparked the Stonewall riots—a community response to these humiliating and dangerous raids.
Aotearoa had no such laws. This is largely in part defined by the Police V Rupe case, which settled the matter of crossdressing before the first brick of stonewall ever entered the kiln—ensuring that, legally in Aotearoa, clothes really didn’t have a gender.
Police discrimination towards the Queer community was rife throughout Rupe’s life. She describes how “the police were very, very heavy. They hated gay people. They hated drag queens and they hated lesbians”. Rupe was illegally running a bar and brothel—but her business was under increased scrutiny due to the fact she was ‘transexual’.
In 1966, Rupe left the club she was working in. Wearing a black dress, heels, and makeup, she was offered a lift home by a man on Little Queen Street. The man then proceeded to do an illegal right-hand turn—leading to the car being pulled over. Rupe, who had been arrested and fined for ‘Offensive Behaviour’ before—the charge most often used against ‘crossdressing’ at this time—was recognised and promptly arrested by a ‘Constable Green’. She describes how “[he] arrested me because I was in drag… He pulled me out of the car and arrested me for wearing women's clothes.”
Historically Rupe, and many other ‘crossdressers’ of her time, would take the charge head on—accepting the fine or prison time to avoid the lengthy, expensive, and extremely public route of disputing it. That night, Rupe decided enough was enough. She hired a lawyer and pleaded not guilty. The first day she arrived at court they told her to go home and change—she had arrived in women’s clothes.
In the end, the judge ruled that New Zealand had never had laws against wearing clothes of the opposite sex, and that Rupe had not been in drag to cause offence, outrage, or revulsion—and therefore was unable to be tried under the 'Offensive Behaviour’ charge.
On the 26th of January, 1966, Rupe’s charges were
De Milo describes how this “made it much easier for the girls in Auckland, because they [the police] were very heavy in Auckland”, and they could no longer justify their arrests as a response to Offensive acts.
She never wore men’s clothes again.
1977.
In 1979, Rupe’s lease on The Balcony wasn’t renewed. Without her main storefront, she decided to shut her other businesses, leaving Wellington for Sydney.
Before she left, she was ceremonially crowned Queen of Wellington by three hundred of her peers, in front of a ball organised in her honour.
In Sydney, she remained immersed in her community. Organising AIDS fundraisers and managing community centres, Rupe was just as well known in Australia as Aotearoa. In 2008, she headlined the Decade of the Divas float at the Syndey Gay and Lesbian Mardie Gras. She did so on her mobility scooter. Topless.
Carmen runs for Mayor. Every policy item is considered outrageous, shocking, and morally repugnant. She appears often in ballgowns and limos, riding the notoriety of The Balcony and her court case, lighting up the election with radical vision. Her manifesto promised the lowering of the legal drinking age to 18, the legalisation of prostitution, abortion, and homosexual conduct, the legalisation of nudist beaches, and for bars to be allowed to stay open till midnight—or even (gasp) 2 am.
In a political debate leading up to her election day, she blithely argued, "I am better looking than Sir Francis [Kitts], I am more charming than Michael Fowler, and I could beat [Tony] Brunt in a brawl any day."
She never won—but she did rank fourth in the popular vote, paving the start of a road Georgina Beyer would finish in 1995.
On her 70th birthday, the Wellington Police gifted her a Police Helmet—painted purple, covered in glitter, and wrapped in a pink feather boa—paired with a formal apology for their past behaviour.
In Sydney on 15 December 2011, aged 75, Carmen Rupe passed away.
As a tribute to her extraordinary life, she was put in the green lights down Cuba in 2016, a physical testament to her influence and connection to Wellington.
She is, to this day, one of the most significant, iconic, and memorable whakawāhine of her time. Her legacy is felt in a million unnoticeable ways throughout Aotearoa—even if it’s as simple as a green silhouette, watching over Ivy.
ahuatanga
edge of NZ’s Queer History
LIFE ON THE
“Do you remember the 21st night of September ? I don’t, but what I can tell you is it was the night that I came into the world. I was born just eight months after the Human Rights Act 1993 came into effect. It outlawed discrimination based on sexual orientation, gender identity, and expression, it also allowed gay, lesbian, and bisexual people to serve openly in the military.
Growing up, I learned about my uncle, who was older than my parents and the only openly gay member of our family at the time. I was confused why he had married a woman and had a child as a young person only to leave them if he was a gay man. My confusion about my uncle's actions became clearer when I learned that homosexuality had been illegal until 1986, only eight years before I was born.
By 2002, at age eight, I realised I developed crushes on people regardless of gender. However, media and comments around me made it clear that same-sex attraction was often considered "weird." At the time, "gay" was a derogatory term used daily, and "f*g" was a common insult. I didn't recognise the unconscious messages I was absorbing or how I was perpetuating negative stereotypes about queer people.
The Civil Union Act was passed in 2004, when I was 10, and enacted in 2005. It allowed both same-sex
and different-sex couples to have their relationships officially recognised without needing to marry. This was considered a significant milestone for LGBTQ+ people, as it was seen as the "gay marriage equivalent." However, this wasn't entirely accurate, and the Civil Union Act faced criticism from many within the community. One major point of contention was that this "gay marriage equivalent" was also available to opposite-sex couples, who already had the right to marry.
I still remember Valentine's Day 2006, when Maia and Jay were joined in a civil union on Shortland Street I couldn't understand why some people laughed, some disapproved, and others found it "hot." As a 12-year-old, I was intensely confused by this, not yet aware of the toxic sexualisation of lesbians in mainstream culture.
Fast forward another two years. It's 2008 and I’m a bisexual emo kid who is forced to attend an all-girls high school (this will make sense later on). Katy Perry’s bisexual anthem “I Kissed a Girl” is taking over the pop charts. It was around this time that the concept of ‘barsexuals’—women engaging in same-sex intimate acts for the enjoyment of men—began to rise. This concept of making out with your girlfriends for your boyfriends to find hot became shockingly popular amongst teens and burgeoning online social media culture.
Our rights are in a precarious place yet again with the current government—but (...)
Don’t lose hope.
"
The Edge radio station was so inspired by Katy Perry’s pop song that they aimed to set the record for the most “girls kissing at the same time.” My friends and I decided to participate, hoping to win tickets to Katy Perry’s concert. We thought it was funny at the time, but for me, it marked the beginning of a desire to be even more visible, especially since gay marriage was still illegal at that point.
On September 4, 2008, we went to the City Focus in Rotorua after school. We were three out of eight pairs who “pashed” while groups of people crowded around us, watching us like a spectacle. It’s strange to think sometimes that only 16 years ago this kind of wild behaviour was considered normal and okay. After this point, I started becoming more vocal on LGBTQ+ rights, and joined the first-ever LGBT youth group formed at our local youth centre, in 2014.
The legalisation of gay marriage happened only a year prior. To celebrate the law reform, The Edge sought two same-sex couples to marry. The Rotorua District Court even opened early so the weddings could take place during the breakfast radio slot. On August 19, 2013, one lesbian and one gay couple were married at the Government Gardens, marking a momentous occasion for LGBTQ+ rights and a significant step towards acceptance.
However, a year later, The Edge faced controversy over a competition offering a trip for two to the 2015 Rugby World Cup in England. The issue arose when two straight best friends committed to marrying each other to win the prize, trivialising same-sex marriage. This understandably upset many LGBTQ+ rights groups, as it reduced the hard-fought battles for marriage equality to a mere gag.
Meanwhile, I went on living a terrifyingly straight little life in the Bay of Plenty—despite being so vocally out and proud. However, in 2017 I moved to Wellington, a shift that would mark the beginning of a significant period of growth. I became a better person—more empathetic, and much more open about my sexuality. I entered a polyamorous relationship, and I began
to unpack and unlearn past lessons and traumas. In 2019, I began watching two trans YouTubers, Noah Finnce and Jammidodger. As I learned about their experiences as trans men, I felt increasingly uncomfortable but also resonated deeply with their stories. This prompted me to reflect on my own past, and realise that I had never truly identified with being a woman. Womanhood, for me, had always felt like a purely biological feature rather than a personal identity.
This was where I started to realise that, even though I thought I had figured out my sexuality so quickly, I had never considered that I wasn’t a woman. I was a pansexual not-woman, maybe man? Then the imposter “I can’t be because I didn’t know sooner” thoughts came out. I grew up in the “I'm not like other girls” era, so I figured that I wasn’t like other girls. I just didn’t clock I might be something else. I was oblivious to the implication of growing up with this internal scream of “put me with the boys!”, anytime people would group me by gender.
The timing of my second wave of queer self-discovery was lucky, because in 2021 the BMDRR bill was passed. This bill allows for an easier process for individuals to change the sex marker on their birth certificate. Prior to this bill, people had to go through the Family Court system with proof of medical transitioning.
When I look back at my nearly three decades on this earth, there has been so much progress for queer rights. In my lifetime alone I’ve seen our rights, acceptance and community change so much. I see current students in primary and secondary education learning what I wish I had as a kid. I see the growing media representation I needed growing up. I see an Aotearoa that only ever said "gay" as a slur now mostly using it as an accurate description of someone. Our progress is not over. Our rights are in a precarious place yet again with the current government—but I wanted to share how much has happened in my little lifespan. Don’t lose hope.
GOOD EPILOGUES
When it comes to gay shit and Shakespeare, there’s a lot to talk about.
"
My favourite joke in the world goes, ‘Shakespeare walks into a gay bar. Exit, pursued by a bear.’ While they may not have had gay bars in Elizabethan England, I’m sure my boy William Shakespeare would love to go to one. And I, and dozens of other scholars, are sure he would love to be pursued by a bear—the gay man kind, obviously. (Me too, Will. Me too.)
If you were forced to read one of his tragedies like Macbeth or Othello in high school, you may not be familiar with how funny and relevant his writings are today. One of my biggest pet peeves as a Shakespeare fan is when people (particularly your Year 11 English teacher) make him out to be more academic than his work generally is. Yes, the Early Modern language is a bit incomprehensible to anyone new to it, but that’s nothing a No Fear Shakespeare translation can’t fix. The best Shakespearean actors can convey their emotions and intentions perfectly without you necessarily understanding what the words mean. Shakespeare never went to university, and he wrote for an audience largely of commoners who could go see a cockfight or an execution instead of the theatre. As a result, his plays are full of disgusting sex jokes, dramatic betrayal and scandal, fight scenes, and ridiculously bitchy dialogue, to keep the groundlings’ attention. You also may not be familiar with how insanely queer Shakespeare’s plays are, or that he himself was a bisexual icon and slut of the Early Modern stage. A man after my own heart, truly.
A lot of academics and historians have spent far more time than I have trying to prove definitively what Shakespeare’s sexuality was. I think his own life and sexuality is much less interesting than what he says in all thirty-eight of his plays and over a hundred poems, but anyone still claiming Will was entirely and exclusively heterosexual is possibly just stupid. Out of his 154 sonnets, the first 126 are dedicated to a male ‘fair youth,’ and the majority of these are explicitly romantic and erotic in nature. His most famous poem, Sonnet 18, which begins ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’ is one of these. There is debate over who exactly Shakespeare’s fair youth was, and what the nature of Shakespeare’s relationship with him was like. He’s usually considered to be either the Earl of Southampton, Henry Wriothesley, or the Earl of Pembroke, William Herbert. They were both Shakespeare’s artistic patrons, otherwise known as the original sugar daddy. One sonnet that I really love is number 20, which talks about a ‘master-mistress of my passion.’ Hot. Can I have their number?
When it comes to gay shit and Shakespeare, there’s a lot to talk about. If I had a dollar for every time he wrote about an intense homoerotic friendship who cared for each other more than their actual love interests, I could treat my intense homoerotic friendship to a really fancy cocktail.
There are not one, but two couples in Shakespeare where one of them is dying or already dead, and the other attempts to kill themself because they can’t bear the thought of living without the first. One of
character. I just know he and Tybalt were having the nastiest swordfights in those hot Verona alleyways, and not with their actual weapons, if you know what I mean.
And there’s also so, so much crossdressing. Literally one in five Shakespeare plays features a character of one gender adopting an identity of another gender to advance the plot in ways they couldn’t otherwise. This is most commonly female characters assuming a masculine identity, like Viola becoming Cesario in Twelfth Night, or Rosalind becoming Ganymede in As You Like It. This convention gave woman characters more freedom and power in the restrictive society Shakespeare wrote in, and made these characters some of his most complex and nuanced roles for women.
performed. Gender performativity onstage suggests that gender is a persistent impersonation that passes as the real, and destabilises the difference between the natural and the artificial.
There is no difference between a man playing a man, a woman playing a man, a woman playing a woman, or a man playing a woman if gender performativity and queer theory is taken into account in a theatrical sense. It is the character and how they’re played that’s important, not their gender or that of the actor, especially in Shakespeare plays. Another pet peeve I have in Shakespeare is when productions choose to regender characters based on the gender of the actor playing them. This always comes across as if the production company is uncomfortable asking the audience to believe that an actor of one gender can convincingly play a role of another gender—which
The saying goes ‘We’re all born naked and the rest is drag.’ I’d like to propose that we’re all born boy-girl-mirror-men-women, and the rest is Shakespeare.
"
feels mildly transphobic at best, and just plain bioessentialist at worst. Limiting tension between the actor and the character they portray is never an interesting directorial decision.
Funnily enough, the first Shakespeare role I ever played was Rosalind, in a scene where she’s Ganymede. I was thirteen then, and being Rosalind-as-Ganymede felt right in a way I didn’t have words for yet. The following year, I played Claudio in a genderbent Much Ado About Nothing, feeling so cool in sunglasses and a band shirt borrowed from my older brother and dad, respectfully. I frequently performed male roles throughout high school, but that was the first time I wanted to be a man off stage as well. I didn’t think about this critically for three more years. The first role I had after coming out as transgender in Year 13 was the Courtesan in A Comedy Of Errors. I struggled to connect with her character when we began rehearsals. I felt like I didn't know how to act like a woman anymore—until my drama teacher told me ‘Okay, she’s not a woman. She’s a drag queen.’ I even won an award for audience connection at that year’s SGCNZ National Festival, which proved to me the transformative power trans bodies onstage have.
As much as I love Shakespeare, and as great as his impact has been on my own journey of queerness, it’s
just as important to champion contemporary queer writers and playwrights. There are more than enough people who call Shakespeare the best writer in the English language already—I certainly don’t need to be another. His treatment of people of colour and Jewish people often leaves something to be desired. Yet knowing that one of the most famous writers ever explored queer themes and characters across so many of his plays, written over four hundred years ago, is still impressive. If there’s one thing I love as a queer and transsexual person, it’s seeing people like me throughout time and in historical texts. And in fucking Shakespeare, no less.
My favourite Shakespeare movie (alright, second to the Zeffirelli Romeo and Juliet) is called Stage Beauty. It’s about the actor Ned Kynaston, famous for playing female parts, struggling with the introduction of women actors into the English theatre. There’s a scene where he and his lover/dresser/rival in womanhood Maria are acting out different sex positions. In each one they confirm who the man and who the woman is, until they get to a point where they can’t tell anymore.
The saying goes ‘We’re all born naked and the rest is drag.’ I’d like to propose that we’re all born boy-girlmirror-men-women, and the rest is Shakespeare.
About this week's Artist
An artist and film major trying desperately to find the time to create cool things. You can catch me writing bad poetry in the library or up at midnight with a burst of inspiration. Some context for the art, it's a bright and saturated exploration of fitting (or not fitting) in a box. It doesn't have a right way up, hang it in Instagram @springjamz.
an open mind and you might find out.
turning, shifting, changing into something or someone new.
metlink app and your snapper balance.
RANKING THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING
BASED ON HOW MUCH TBOY SWAG I THINK THEY HAVE
Legoloscar Aragorbbie (he/him)
Boromir is lowkey the platonic ideal of a fantasy hero. He’s valiant, strong, and has a very angular World-ofWarcraft face. A true manly man. Shoutout to all the trans guys out there who go super hard on getting jacked, or like, lumberjacking, or whatever it is the manly bros are up to.
I love these hobbits. They seem like the type of cool guys I’d meet outside at a house party and have a deep and meaningful yarn with. Merry and Pippin also 100% have their community’s backs. I mean, convincing the Ents to join in with the war against Saruman? Those are some guys who will stick up for their people. That’s pretty respectable.
FRODO LEGOLAS GIMLI 4 2
rite Lord of the Rings characters. He’s loyal, kind, and the best friend (read: gay lover) a hobbit could ask for. Also, Sam gets to be in the top half because when I was a kid, my brother and I had the Shelob Lego set and Sam was my favourite of the minifigures. Are you taking this list seriously? I’m not.
Ha, I bet you all expected Mr Frodo, everyone’s favourite short king and main character to top the list. Well, he’s up there— you fellow tboys know he’s a pretty cool guy to watch and say “wow, he’s so me for real”, but real scholars of tboy swag can identify two members of the fellowship who are really swagging it tboy style far beyond the rest.
It’s him, it’s the barrel-surfing, physics-defying twink you all know and love! Legolas is the best, what do I even say? He has beautiful flowing hair, elegant green clothes, and he’s also an incredibly skilled archer. I would so encounter this man at Ivy, tearing it up to some Charli.
Alright, at number one, top of the list, the Fellowship member who I personally reckon has the most tboy swag, it’s Gimli. Gimli is special because not only does he have the plucky cavalierness and short stature that tboy swag as a concept is built on, but he’s also a bear and you know I’m right. Gimli is the greatest synthesis of transgender whimsy and self-assured, strong masculinity. And that is why he is my favourite swag tboy from the Fellowship of the Ring. Peace.
Challenging Norms: Language and the Queer Experience™
Dylan Van Heerden (they/them)
How many times have you heard something that made you feel uncomfortable? Something that could be problematic? Terminology, slang, and words in general change, hold different meanings at different times. Words also carry connotations that can have powerful and damaging effects.
Sometimes it can be hard to know if you've said the wrong thing and unless someone tells you, or you’re in the know—it can be hard to know where to start.
For far too long queer people, and minority groups in general, have been educating others on the issues and discrimination we face. We have conversations, sometimes daily, explaining why certain terms and phrases are problematic. Every-single-day we have to prove our existence is beautiful, natural, and significant. It’s a form of resistance and it’s tiring. We don’t choose the way we’re born, the families we’re born into, or the hurdles we face. They are things we are ~blessed~ with. The way words and phrases are used can cause harm. It can be deeply triggering, offensive, and just plain rude.
Part of the Queer Experience™ is the language we use to describe how we feel; it doesn’t always fit historical norms, and sometimes the language isn’t there yet. But we can use these terms to strengthen us. They can uplift our community, promote diversity, and show to those still figuring out their identity that they are loved and valued no matter how many times they change their pronouns, or hair colour, or re-evaluate their gender or sexuality.
"When you say, ‘that’s so gay’ do you realise what you say?" is one example of a ‘think before you speak’ PSA. This column is Dylan’s Version.
Words have history, and in the rainbow community terms are constantly changing and evolving. Terms like "Queer" were previously used in a derogatory way, but have since been reclaimed by members of the rainbow community (like me—Queer is the label I use for my sexuality).
Historically, marginalised groups have experienced how words can be used to divide and cause people to be othered. These experiences show that word choice is important, so care should be taken when using terms you are unfamiliar with.
An example: in the rainbow community, and on certain ‘dating’ apps, you may have heard people asking questions like "are you clean?", when determining if a person is living with HIV. That phrasing is offensive. It makes me sad that people still don’t know the difference between the current terminology and gross, problematic hounding.
If you've phrased questions like this before don't worry, you won't be cancelled. Just think about this next time you have that intimate, hot, and steamy convo about consent and health status. Because we all want to be perceived as hot stuff, not hot garbage.
So, for next time… the Burnett Foundation suggests using these alternatives:
"When were you last tested?"
"Do you know your status?"
Language matters; it gives us the tools to define ourselves, and can be a path toward liberation. It has also been a tool of pathologization, and oppression. Approach it with care and an open mind. Our collective vocabulary will continue to evolve around us—we can choose to respond with defensiveness, or with curiosity.
A Queer Invitation to Come Out
Sterling Jones (they/them), Rainbow and Inclusion Advisor
I’ve been invited to a Chappell Roan-themed birthday this week, and I am hyped. I’m the sort of person who’ll jump at any opportunity to dress up, so naturally I’ve been obsessing over my outfit all week. Do I want my look to be more “My Kink Is Karma” or “Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl”? Classic or hyper-masc drag make-up? The options are endless.
But among this anticipation, there’s a nagging feeling of anxiety at the back of my mind.
You see, it’s my flatmate’s friend’s party. They’re wonderful, we’ve met before, but I won’t know everyone who’s going to be there, and that’s the source of my anxiety. It’ll be a new experience: new place, new people, and a new group of strangers to come out to.
For us queer people, with every introduction comes an invitation to come out.
My first time coming out of the closet was nearly ten years ago, and it was a big deal for me. It was terrifying, partly because I belonged to a conservative community, but mostly because pop culture told me that it was supposed to be. Every queer YA novel I’d ever read (The Geography Club, Something Like Summer, Simon vs The Homosapien Agenda, just to name a few) prepared me for a dramatic affair, a point of no return. From that moment on, I would start shitting glitter, and everyone on the street would recognise me as Queer™. It was with that in mind
that a trembling, sixteen-year-old Sterling posted, “Well, here goes nothing… I am gay.”
It's a fear that’s stayed with me. I feel it when leaving the house with eyeshadow on, when I share my pronouns in a meeting, and when inevitably, I’ll be introduced to new people at my flatmate’s friend’s Chappell Roan-themed birthday.
But it’s not how I want to feel about sharing a part of me with the world. Coming out isn’t supposed to be an invitation for fear! It’s an invitation for connection.
There’s a tweet pinned up in my office, from author John Paul Brammer. It reads, “Remember what it felt like when you saw a queer person owning it, and it gave you permission to be yourself? You’re that person to someone”. And you know what? I do remember what it felt like. I remember what it felt like as a closeted fifteen-year-old to see a pair of queer lovers kiss goodbye (on the mouth!!) at Britomart Train Station before going their separate ways. It felt like hope. I remember it feeling like a promise that people like them, people like me, could find belonging and love. And it was hope that I really need to carry-on, back then.
So, here’s my invitation to you: join me in reclaiming coming out as a source of connection and community and unlearning this intergenerational trauma we share for the generations before us, for the generations ahead of us, and for each and every single one of us.
A vision for gender neutral and inclusive legal language
words by VUW Rainbow Law Students Society 2024
As the law applies to all of us, it should be written in an inclusive and accessible way to reflect this. Gender neutral language is not a radical concept. “They” has been used as a personal pronoun in the English language since the 14th century. In te reo Māori the word that's used for all pronouns is “ia”.
Law students will know the drill: you are studying an old case, and the person in question is referred to as the “man” before the law—“he”, “him”, “his” and so forth. The lecturer will read out:
“He” …. *pause*…. “or she!”
And to their credit, that is a fair attempt. However, if we *pause* again and think about it…. we could get rid of the clunky “he/she”, “himself/herself”, “man/ woman”, and use the all-encompassing pronoun “they” and the term “person” (with a smaller word count, too).
The entity responsible for drafting legislation is the Parliamentary Counsel Office (PCO). Clause 8.2 of the PCO Style Guide explains the importance of gender neutral language in legislative drafting. The guide uses examples of how to leave out pronouns by repeating nouns and how the personal pronoun “they” can be used effectively without creating ambiguity. Every law student’s best friend, the New Zealand Law Style Guide also encourages avoiding gender specific language.
However, gender identity is becoming increasingly politicised in Aotearoa following an international
wave of transphobic narratives. New Zealand First is contributing to the transgender-exclusionary discourse based on binary concepts of sex, rather than gender as a spectrum. So far, they have begun challenging legislative definitions of “woman”’ and “gender identity” in press conferences and through interjections in the debating chamber, and have recently put forward the ironically named “Fair Access to Bathrooms Bill”. The members’ bill seeks to introduce a fine for bathrooms not being used by the intended “single-sex” that the bathroom is dedicated to, which would result in our trans and non-binary whānau facing fines just for taking a piss. Long may it stay at the bottom of the biscuit tin…
If gender neutrality in legal language has never crossed your mind previously, that is okay! Gender inclusivity can be a practice to incorporate in tutorial discussions, revising legal tests, problem questions, and discussing statutory implications. Gender neutrality at law school is important for our nonbinary, takatāpui and transgender students. One non-binary student explains: or lecturer use the pronoun ‘they’, it makes me feel seen and enhances my ability to connect with my legal learning”.
As future legal practitioners, we have a duty to represent the public and help our community. As we deconstruct the gender binary in more visible spaces, we need to ensure that the law is accessible and inclusive.
podcasts.
with Speaker of the House Teddy O'Neill (he/it/ia)
"If I had a dollar for every time Shakespeare wrote an intense homoerotic friendship, I'd have enough dollars to take my intense homoerotic friendship for a really nice cocktail."
Queerlient Unedited GUEST EDITED ISSUE?
GUEST EDITORS ON THE PODCAST! Join Teddy, Zia and Goose on Unedited this week as they talk about the creation of Queerlient 2024, the backstories behind most of the articles, and what exactly it means to have tboy swag as a member of the fellowship of the ring.
"The music video's general concept: Run away from a giant, human-sized boulder."
VUWSA Unedited HAVE YOU EVERY WONDERED WHAT IT'S LIKE BEING VUWSA'S RECEPTIONIST? WONDER NO LONGER! This week, Teddy is joined by Angela, who gives us a tell-all on her job and both the pros and the cons that come with it.
The Lights
Jackson McCarthy (he/him)
Sitting by the water reminds me of you. The lights, this morning, everybody who loves to be alive. I think it’s only now I love and miss you, your blonde sexuality, the way you shaved or didn’t. I even miss the dream I had, again and again,
the one where I left you, and how I left you each night I dreamt it.
There’s a place in sleep where the lights sign your name in gold —
I can feel your feet under the table, nudging me back to myself.
Harvest of the Heart
Charlie Gittins (he/him)
I do not choose the finest grapes only what is found in my garden plucked by my own hands, grown from my own soil nothing is imported from France or Belgium no fine new machinery helps me on my way all the same I have been brewing this chaotic act of creation I have taken something that could have been complete and put it through fermentation
Everything but the catalyst comes from me my backyard conception then I am left to trust in nature find faith in waiting and it takes so much time and patience some days it feels like my hands are always dirty Like I am always thirsty for something that never comes
But just out of sight something incredible is happening that will bring more joy than any fruit or water when the days of packed soil under my nails and hands filled with splinters will leave me sitting back laughing and drinking in everything I thought could be just a bit better
PUZZLES everybody's
What is the rarest blood type?
What sport does Cristiano Ronaldo play?
How many bones are there in the human body?
What is the name of the longest river in South America?
What is the name of the musical artist who sings the song “Watermelon Sugar”?
Maze
CROSSWORD MADE BY BLAKE CITYSCAPES
ACROSS
1. Festive December songs (9,6)
9. Country with the capital Caracas (9)
10. Northern Irish county town of Tyrone (5)
11. Surname of American tennis player Andre (6)
12. Third element on the periodic table; medication for mood disorders (7)
13. Hat with a visor at the front (3)
14. Texan city on the US-Mexico border (2,4)
16. Slang meaning outdated (3,3)
19. Word that follows ‘ear’, ‘paraffin’ and ‘candle’ (3)
21. Not common (7)
23. Plane garage (6)
26. Japanese food consisting of rice and other ingredients wrapped in seaweed (5)
27. Whipped cream with vanilla and sugar (9)
28. Proper term for an NG tube (11,4)
DOWN
1. Warning of specific stipulation or limitation (6)
2. Name of the lizard antagonist in the 2001 film Monsters Inc (7)
3. Variations of clothing measurements (5)
4. Shy (4)
5. Disease for which the first vaccine was developed (8)
6. Legally took and raised a child as one’s own (7)
7. African rainforest mammal known as the ‘forest giraffe’ (5)
8. Devious plan (6)
13. Locks of hair that stick out (8)
15. Funny (7)
17. Surname of American poet and activist Maya (7)
18. ___ burner used in science labs (6)
20. Pattern made of diamonds or lozenges (6)
22. Latin term for bear (5)
24. Area above a house used for storage (5)
25. Equal, just; carnival, gala (4)
celebrate our Pasifika language weeks, and not just the official ones. The uni community we are a part of is diverse, and while the New Zealand government may not officially recognise all our Pacific whanau we want to celebrate as many as possible.
North Mariana Islands - Sankattan Siha Na Islas Mariånas /Commonwealth Téél Falúw kka Efáng llól Marianas and Guam - Guåhan
The North Mariana Islands and Guam together compose the Mariana Islands and are located North East of Palau and North East of Micronesia. North Mariana Islands are made of 14 main islands and Guam is considered separate. The islands have a large amount of coral reefs, limestone terraces, and volcanos. The islands are incredibly volcanically active, and Guam is the closest landmass to the Mariana trench. Both the North Mariana Islands and Guam were created after a collision with the Pacific and Philippine Sea tectonic plates.
The indigenous people of the North Mariana Islands are Chamorro and Carolinian peoples; they speak Chamorro and Carolinian (Carolinian has two dialects: Refaluwasch / Southern,and Talaabwogh / Northern). Both Chamorro and Carolinian are official languages, alongside English. Both are currently considered US territories; Guam in particular has a long history with the US military.
Kiribati’s official language is English, but most residents also speak taetae ni Kiribati (Gilbertese).
Chamorro
Tånó I' Man Chamoru = Land of the Chamorros; Motto of Guam
Fino’ = Language
Håfa Adai = Hello/Welcome
Si Yu’us Ma’åse’ = Thank You
Kao mamaolek ha' hao? = How are you? (informal)
Bondåt or Buenas = Good = Sea/Ocean = Rose
Carolinian
R: Tirow / T: Tiirow = Hello
Leesor allim = Good morning
Leebwong allim = Good night
Si Yu’us Ma’åse’ = Thank You
R: Olomwaay OR Ghilissow / T: Ghinissow
R: Meeta itómw? / T: Ifa itomw?
R: Óó / T: Ngóó = Yes
R: Eghe / T: Ehe = No
The phrases and words above were found in dictionaries and different language resources such as those provided through Pasific resources for education and learning (PREL).
Aotearoa has no official language week for the Chamorro or Carolinian languages.
It’s important to recognise that all cultures and languages are incredibly diverse. There are different dialects within languages, unrecognized languages and peoples. With Polynesia being so spread out, across large and small islands and villages, there is an unimaginable amount of culture that simply can’t be fully appreciated with just words. We encourage everyone to be respectful, open minded and always keep learning <3
Mauatua Fa'ara-Reynolds (she/they)
Ashleigh Putt-Fallows (she/her/ia)
kawepūrongo
PANDEMIC!?!
DAN MOSKOVITZ (HE/HIM)
Documents revealed under the Official Information Act show how the Department of Conservation’s budget for bird flu preparation—the deadly avian pandemic sweeping the globe—is just $73000, or the cost of a nice car.
Bird flu, also called avian influenza, has killed millions of both wild birds and poultry. The current outbreak has so far only avoided Australia, New Zealand, and the Pacific. For how long? Who knows.
With many species of NZ birds already endangered, there’s real concern about bird flu causing extinctions upon arrival in Aotearoa.
Yet OIA data reveals DOC’s budget for bird flu is just $73000. Biosecurity NZ, rather than DOC, is the lead agency regarding bird flu, but $73000 is still a paltry sum.
DOC refused requests for an interview. Terrestrial Biodiversity Director Hilary Aikman said in a statement “It is important to balance using resources to prepare for a threat that might appear in New Zealand in future and doing conservation work to address current threats.
“DOC regularly reprioritises resources within its budgets to respond to various environmental factors, and HPAI is no different in this regard.”
The budget has paid for a vaccine trial alongside purchasing protective equipment for staff. DOC did not answer queries about what further preparation it could do with more funds but stated they expected to increase the budget should bird flu arrive.
It’s an open secret that DOC has always been underfunded— it manages a third of Aotearoa’s land on just 0.44% of its budget.
And like everywhere in the public sector, this year there were mass cost-cutting layoffs at DOC, with 124 fewer jobs now at the department.
South Island Wildlife Hospital vet Pauline Howard was disappointed with the cuts to DOC and the subsequent lack of budget for bird flu, but pointed out DOC’s lack of options with the disease.
“When you look at what this government is doing and how they’ve paired back the Department of Conservation, there’s just no extra money going into DOC,” she said.
“But when bird flu does hit, there isn’t a lot that DOC can do. It's going to rapidly spread around the country, and putting a whole lot of money into it isn't going to solve the problem.”
As Aikman pointed out, avian influenza “is not eradicable in wildlife.”
But one of the biggest dangers to birds could be good samaritans.
“If someone picks up a sick bird and carries it away from the area, they've infected the vehicles, the tyres, their hands, anything which touches the bird,” said Howard.
“People will spread bird flu around the country quicker if they pick sick birds up.”
Birds taken to wildlife hospitals showing signs of avian influenza have to be euthanized on the spot, while birds with other problems have to be quarantined for two weeks.
“It’s not a matter of taking birds to the hospital and them getting better,” says Howard. “It doesn’t work like that, unfortunately.”
Chickens and pet birds can be protected by ensuring water sources are clean, chook houses are roofed, and mice and rats are kept out.
If you encounter a bird showing symptoms of avian influenza, please take a video and call Biosecurity New Zealand on their hotline: 0800 80 99 66. Symptoms include falling over, twisting their neck to look upwards, lethargy, and drooping heads. Three or more dead birds in one area is also reason to contact Biosecurity.
Transmission of bird flu to humans is uncommon but not impossible. However its mortality rate in humans is 52%. Do not touch any bird showing symptoms. 15.07.2024
sexual harassment, assault.
SAFETY AND HARASSMENT
WELLINGTON'S
Wellington is facing growing concerns over the safety of its night-time venues. A survey conducted by Salient, comprising responses from over a hundred students across various academic years, paints a stark picture of the current state of club safety. In our survey, over 75% of students responded that they had felt unsafe at at least one of Wellington’s nightclub venues.
This feeling of insecurity was often attributed to frequent incidents of harassment, groping, and assault. One respondent, a fourth-year female student, shared: “Ivy, San Fran, Valhalla, and Circus used to be my go-to places. Now, I can’t go to these clubs without feeling a looming threat of being groped or followed. The situation has deteriorated over the years”.
The survey revealed that one in two students had felt unsafe in Mishmosh. It was described by one survey responder as a “cesspit of old creepy men” where patrons felt constantly at risk of being groped and harassed. One third-year female student detailed her experience: “Mishmosh was unbearable; creepy old men couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. I’ve never gone back since being grabbed and groped there”. One in five students surveyed reported having been harassed in Mishmosh.
One in three students surveyed felt unsafe in clubs Dakota, Shady Lady and Red Square. Dakota, for instance, emerged as a hotspot for harassment. Numerous respondents recounted instances of groping and unwanted advances. A third-year female respondent stated, “I have literally never gone to Dakota without being groped. Unsurprisingly, my male friends always have a great time there”.
When contacted, venues Red Square, Shady Lady and Ivy Bar and Cabaret all stressed that if paterons are feeling unsafe, or an incident of assault happens, they should approach bar or security staff who are trained to manage the situation. Shady Lady and Ivy both highlighted their zero tolerance policies.
The role of bouncers, who are supposed to ensure the safety of club-goers, was also examined in the survey. While some respondents reported positive interactions with bouncers at venues like Ivy and San Fran, a significant number shared negative experiences. A fifth-year female respondent recounted her experience at Lulu, stating, “I was harassed by bouncers on a power trip. They let in guys known to sexually harass girls, giving them a line skip because they’re friends. It’s a serious issue”.
In response, a representative from Lulu Bar highlighted that the venue follows the host responsibility policy which requires them “to provide a fun, welcoming and most importantly safe environment for all our guests and staff.” They also have five security staff, along with venue managers every weekend to ensure this. However, they declined to comment on the specific incident in the above quote.
The survey highlighted that experiences of safety and harassment in Wellington’s nightlife are heavily gendered. Female and gender non-conforming individuals reported significantly higher rates of harassment compared to their male counterparts. A third-year nonbinary respondent stated,
“It’s exhausting to constantly have to be on the lookout for trouble. You can’t even be nice to guys without them expecting something from you”.
One in four survey respondents had been harassed in Dakota, the highest level of harassment recorded in the survey. One in five reported being harassed in Shady Lady and Red Square.
One in four people who completed the survey had been assaulted in a Wellington club. Of that group of respondents, 20% of the assaults happened in Mishmosh, 15% happened in Dakota, 14% happened in Ivy bar and Cabaret, and 12% in Red Square. A fourth-year student recounted being assaulted at a Wellington club and reporting it to the bar manager, only to be told that “nothing could be done” unless the manager witnessed the assault. Minutes later,
HARASSMENT IN WELLINGTON'S CLUBS
PHOEBE ROBERTSON (SHE/HER)
the same person assaulted one of her friends and was then removed from the venue.
An ex-bar manager, in conversation with Salient, identified “a massive discrepancy between the dangerous environment that town can be after midnight, and the tools staff are given to handle that environment. Effective staff training is pretty much unheard of in Wellington hospo. If you haven't trained you staff on identifying dangerous behaviour, deescalation, enforcing their own boundaries and those of customers, if you haven't given them the tools and confidence to remove problematic customers, cut people off when necessary, and generally look after their customers and coworkers, you can't turn around and be surprised when you're bar isn't a safe environment."
The survey also highlighted safety issues during late-night journeys to and from clubs, worsened by limited early-hour public transport options. As Dan Moskovitz reported in May, the situation has worsened since the Greater Wellington Regional Council discontinued the After Midnight services.
A fifth-year female student articulated this concern: “The walk home is one of the most unsafe and inconvenient parts of the night. Ensuring you have people leave with you to avoid being harassed or followed is such a downbuzz”. A first-year student recounted: “I was walking home alone one night because my friends had left earlier. This guy started following me, making lewd comments. I had to duck into a 24-hour dairy and call a friend to come get me. It was terrifying”.
Inspector Dean Silvester, Wellington Area Commander stated that the Wellington Area Police “have heard the community’s concerns around safety in our central city and we are committed to addressing their concerns.” They note an increase in police presence on Friday/Saturday nights, and their work alongside Wellington Free Ambulance.
Richard MacLean from WCC Communications highlighted in an interview that central city safety,
especially in Courtenay Place, is a priority for Wellington City Council. Initiatives like the Pōneke Promise and Courtenay Place Precinct Plan, developed with local businesses and residents, underscore this focus. The development of a Sexual Violence Prevention roadmap and action plan includes the Safer Venues programme to train bar staff on handling sexual harassment and supporting student associations for safer events. The Golden Mile upgrades and increased social grants further support this vision. The council remains committed to long-term improvements, collaborating with city leaders and funding organisations like Take 10 to make Pōneke safe, vibrant, and welcoming.
A Take 10 representative explained to me that; “Take 10 is a safe space for young people, based on Courtenay Place city on Friday & Saturday nights. We make sure people have a good night, by offering phone chargers, games, bean bags, water, lollies, first aid and help getting home if needed, as well as a friendly team to connect with. We are there every weekend, no matter the weather, from 10 pm until 3 am. Sometimes people just need a bit of time out from their night, in a quiet, safe, and non-judgemental place”.
The overwhelming sentiment among the respondents is a call for change. There is a pressing need for clubs to implement stricter measures against harassment and to ensure a safer environment for all patrons. “Clubs need to take responsibility and create safe spaces. It’s not enough to just have a bouncer at the door. There needs to be a proactive approach to tackling harassment” emphasised a second-year female student.
For a more in depth analysis, including which clubs students felt the safest at, please scan the QR code below, or check on the extended version of this article on our website.
UniQ and QED Turf out the TERFS. What’s Next for VUW?
HENRY BROADBENT (HE/HIM)
Last Tuesday, the usually quiet mezzanine floor in Rutherford House was transformed into a successful protest and, once the TERFS failed to materialise, a party. The event was a response to a planned speaking event at the University, hosted by Australian transphobe Sall Grover. Grover has been in the limelight since her attempts to remove a trans woman, Roxanne Tickle, from her women-only social media platform ‘Giggle for Girls’ resulted in a lawsuit. This has sparked a federal court case—Australia’s first testing gender identity discrimination laws.
Grover, keeping her time in the spotlight classy, has attempted to crowdfund her legal fees by, among other things, selling a $37.70 “Sweaty Balls Team Giggle” scented candle, featuring a demeaning caricature of Ms Tickle. Not content to limit her bigotry to Etsy and a Sydney courthouse, this month Grover embarked on a transphobic roadshow around Aotearoa, visiting conference venues in Auckland, New Plymouth, Wellington and Christchurch. A decision on the case is expected later this year.
In the three other cities Grover, via the Women’s Rights Party, took her crusade to private community venues. Only in Wellington did the event take place at a university. There are, according to Venue Finder, at least 78 conference venues in the city that are not on University grounds.
The protest at Rutherford House was attended by Vic students and staff, Massey students, and members of the public. In communication with Salient last week the University stressed that venue bookings are external, and took pains to establish that the University had “no direct involvement with organising the event”. Protestors and organisers at Tuesday’s event were universally unmoved by this information.
One VUW student at the protest, Oliver, told Salient the event taking place “at a university where there are trans students, myself included, sends the message that we’re not safe”. Alice, a member of UniQ, echoed this sentiment, stating that she “... cannot picture myself nor any other trans student, especially trans feminine students, feeling confident that the university has our back”. Another protester, under condition of anonymity, saw the event as a continuation of last trimesters' free speech panel,
telling Salient Te Hiwa “is pandering to the Free Speech Union instead of listening to their students”. As for the claims of University leadership that venue hire is out of control? They didn’t buy it.
“We’re supposed to accept that the Vice Chancellor and Provost don’t have the power to vet speakers on their campus? They’re just avoiding responsibility. They’ve tried nothing, and they’re all out of ideas.”
That protestor was not the only person present to draw a direct line between the actions of the leadership team last trimester, and the (slated) presence of TERFs in Pipitea last week. Chatting with Salient after the protest, Alice saw the same connection. She expressed fear of these two events representing the start of a potentially precedent-setting ‘slippery slope’. “If I were Johnathan Ayling or if I were, you know, the Women’s Rights Party secretary … I would see the quotes from Nic Smith and I would feel emboldened. I would say ‘okay, this is a space where we can be unchallenged, at least by the administration’ … and I wonder how long it is before Action Zelandia [a neofascist white nationalist group] is booking a room?”
When our Deputy PM has decided transphobic bathroom legislation is a priority, when queer identities globally are increasingly targeted and precarious, when our community needs allyship more than ever, queer students at Vic are feeling ignored, scapegoated and left behind.
Te Hiwa last week responded, if evasively, to questions from our Chief Reporter surrounding event hire, and refused a request for an interview. Salient sent a further inquiry to Te Hiwa this week, asking them to a) respond to a UniQ statement outlining the fears of queer students at Vic, b) commit to changes surrounding venue hire on a policy level, and c) provide information about what vetting process takes place, if any. The University refused to answer our questions, instead replying with a broad statement absolving them of responsibility for on-campus venues.
Salient has since made a second request for an interview, along with further follow-up questions. Watch this space.
DIRTY DAVE'S POLICY: DENY DENY DENY.
WILL IRVINE (HE/HIM)
OPINION: If you detected a particularly foul stench emanating from the Hub on Tuesday the 9th during Clubs Week, it wasn’t the bathrooms. The reality is far more gruesome: local asshat and rent boy for the rich and powerful, the Honourable David Seymour, visited campus.
Unlike most of Seymour’s visits to schools, here he was not scouting for Snaps to add to his “roster”. There would be no “u up? haha”, and no suggestive pictures of condoms sent to pre-teens. Instead, dressed in a flamboyant pink tie, Seymour engaged in active genocide denial. When questioned by students about the ongoing genocide in Gaza, the man who would be Deputy opened with “well, first of all, I don’t believe that there is a genocide…”. Before he could say more, he was drowned out by indignant students.
Seymour’s position corresponds with a flagrant disregard for human rights, represented by a party which is “proud to stand with Israel”. It takes a particularly heartless person to ignore the images
of civilian massacres, of children with heads blown clean off, and elderly women shot down in the street, but that is exactly what David Seymour is—a smug, arrogant, emotionless prick.
Not only does Seymour’s position sicken anyone with a conscience, it is also in diametrical opposition to the leading authorities on the matter. The UN Special Rapporteur Francesca Albanese has indicated that Israeli officials have demonstrated an “intent to destroy” Gaza’s population. Israel has enforced starvation and thirst on the people of Gaza, destroyed and bombed every single one of Gaza’s hospitals, and created both a disease and famine crisis.
With the level of spectacle that ensued when Finance Minister Willis visited the Hub in February, it is remarkable that Seymour thought his visit would be a good idea. Perhaps it is not surprising—after all, his only contact with youth appears to be sending disappearing messages to 14-year-olds after their bedtime.
YOUR EDUCATION IS SUPPORTED BY MASS MURDERERS WILL IRVINE (HE/HIM)
Last week, Student Justice for Palestine Pōneke (SJP) revealed that the $69 million investment portfolio managed by the Victoria University Foundation, which is managed in part by Nikko Asset Management, invests in Israeli government bonds alongside weapons and intelligence developers.
The fund helps the University carry out large-scale projects and maintain financial solvency, and is funded largely by donors and ex-students. It is a crucial part of the university’s financial power in a neoliberal academic climate. On the Foundation’s page, it identifies itself as an adherent to the UN Principles for Responsible Investment, which gave the University 3/5 stars on “Policy Governance and Strategy”.
Despite so-called ethical investing, the Foundation appears to have no qualms with investing in Israel Bonds, which help the Israeli government maintain a strong financial situation, despite an increasingly discussion
violence.
costly genocide. Without the strong support of US and International backers, including the Foundation, the Zionist entity would be less able to carry out its campaign of extermination against the Palestinian people, and the fascist Netanyahu government would have significantly less popular support.
Additionally, SJP said that Nikko invests in Palantir and Safran. Safran is a French defence contractor that helps manufacture the drones that are used to massacre civilians in Gaza. Palantir, owned by farright bankroller Peter Thiel, creates the racial profiling systems that Israel uses to enforce its apartheid state. In 2011, the Key Government granted Thiel citizenship despite having spent only 12 days in the country. He now owns a large chunk of Wānaka.
Visit @sjp.poneke on Instagram for their petition urging the university to divest from the apartheid state of Israel.
QUASI WAVES GOODBYE?
Wellington's Most Divisive Sculpture Set for Uncertain Future
ETHAN ROGACION (HE/HIM)
Love him or hate him, there’s one thing you cannot deny: Quasi is a large fella. Since 2019, all five metres of his polystyrene, steel and resin visage has loomed over Te Ngākau Civic Square from the roof of City Gallery Wellington. He’s watched over graduation parades, protests and new art exhibitions, an enduring reminder that Pōneke is, in fact, kinda freaky.
But his future is uncertain. City Gallery will leave its current home until at least 2026 due to ongoing construction work in the Civic Square precinct, as well as internal building repair work. In the meantime, the Gallery will be running its exhibitions out of other arts institutions in Wellington like Te Papa, and the Dowse in Lower Hutt.
Delyse Diack, Acting Director Te Matapihi for Experience Wellington - the organisation which runs the Gallery— told Salient that, “The gallery team are working with the artist on the next steps for Quasi,” and are presently unable to give us any more information about his fate. Salient tried approaching Quasi himself for comment, but were unable to due to the jungle of closed footpaths and entryways blocking access into Civic Square.
Quasi was designed by artist Ronnie van Hout in 2016, making his home on the roof of Christchurch Art Gallery in an attempt to—and this is true—“liven up” their civic centre following the 2011 earthquake. As if the people of Christchurch hadn’t suffered enough.
According to City Gallery’s website, part of Quasi’s motivation for moving to the capital—other than his love for our better coffee and worse housing—was to “haunt City Gallery’s roof … presiding over a Civic Square largely abandoned in the wake of our own 2016 quake.” It seems that wherever destruction and disrepair appear, Quasi follows: a grim angel of death watching over the withering remains of our decaying cities.
Christchurch Art Gallery’s lead curator Felicity Milburn told Salient that, “Quasi came into being down here in 2016, when this city was still living through vast and almost constant change—so it feels right that he has become the hands-down king of the surprise pop up.”
Just as they were torn on whether he is good or… not, Wellingtonians are also divided on what Quasi’s future should look like. Should he move to the roof of another Wellington landmark? Perhaps he should move to my flat’s front garden, inspiring me everyday to do even better journalism (pretty please)? Or, should we go with the unthinkable and… send him back to Christchurch? Salient took to Clubs Day last week to gather some thoughts.
VUWSA President Marcail Parkinson and Equity Officer Josh Robinson both want to see Quasi move up the hill to the University, with Robinson saying that Quasi would fit right in on top of the VUWSA Building at Kelburn. Parkinson, on the other hand, wants to bring our five-fingered friend closer to earth on the Tim Beaglehole Courtyard, at eye level with students.
“I think it's a beautiful piece that really talks a lot about Wellington’s culture: two in the pink one in the stink’s really a great statement to make about Wellington and student life…”
Labour MP Greg O’Connor told Salient that Quasi, “like a lot of art, becomes part of the flora and fauna of the city.” When told about the possibility that Cantabrians might want Quasi back, O’Connor replied, “No! No, no, no.”
Green MP Francisco Hernandez, meanwhile, said he thought it would be “pretty funny” for Quasi to grace the rooftop of another Pōneke icon: the Beehive.
All incredibly worthy suggestions indeed. Your move, Experience Wellington.
PICTURED: Quasi on various buildings and modes of public transport in Te Whanganui-a-Tara.
words by Te Huihui o Matariki Chi Huy Tran (he/him) Taranaki Tūturu, Te iwi o Maruwharanui, Ngāti Maniapoto & Ashleigh Putt-Fallows (she/her/ia) Ngāti Whātua, Ngāpuhi-Ngāti Hine, Tūhoe
Ngāi Tahu Sells West Coast Forestry Rights
Ngāi Tahu Holdings is selling the harvesting rights of its West Coast forest estate in a joint venture with Fiera Comox. The 35-year cutting right covers 45,500 hectares between Westport and Franz Josef. The land remains under Ngāi Tahu ownership and will revert back after one rotation. This move aims to free up capital while maintaining oversight. Approximately 225,000 cubic metres of softwoods are harvested annually, supporting both domestic and export markets. The deal awaits approval from the Overseas Investment Office.
Māori wāhine and rangatahi stand strong for indigenous rights at United Nations
Dr. Valmaine Toki, a distinguished law professor and descendant of Ngāti Rehua, Ngāti Wai, and Ngāpuhi has been appointed to a leading position within the United Nations to advance indigenous rights. Named chair of the Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, her appointment was announced during the UN Expert Mechanism's 17th session, gathering over 700 indigenous participants in Geneva. Toki, who currently teaches at the University of Waikato, has been actively involved in international indigenous rights issues since 2022 and previously served on the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues as the first New Zealander and Māori appointee. Her leadership in advocating for indigenous legal systems and rights signifies a significant milestone for Māori representation on the global stage.
Alongside her is ranagatahi Māori representative from Ngā Rangatahi-A-Iwi, aiming to inspire other youth to step forward. Ngā Rangatahi-A-Iwi and Tikanga Pou are presenting submissions on recent changes in Aotearoa. Shae Brown, representing Ngā Rangatahi-A-Iwi, emphasizes the importance of rangatahi voices in issues like Te Tiriti o Waitangi. The trip, privately funded and endorsed by indigenous organizations, includes representatives Pania Newton and Jason Mareroa. Brown hopes her experience will encourage more youth involvement in indigenous rights advocacy.
UNIQ PRIDE WEEK
MON 15/7, 5PM
HUNTER LOUNGE
TUE 16/7, 5:30PM
HMLT104
WED 17/7, 5PM
DANCE ROOM, UNIREC
DRAG QUIZ NIGHT
Have fun answering some pridethemed questions at our quiz night hosted by the amazing King Markiss!
FRI 19/7, 7PM
HUNTER LOUNGE
MOVIE NIGHT
Settle in and watch Mutt, a transgender movie from 2023 — and of course, have some snacks!
PRIDE ZUMBA
Come and sweat it out with other queer people! Enjoy fun exercise in an LGBTQ+ environment.
GAYLA
Bring your friends and dance the night away at UniQ’s annual queer ball! There will be music, food, and drinks!
Tickets are only $20 per person! Buy them now at: https://gayla-2024.lilregie.com or scan the QR code on the right!
Make sure you don’t miss out! We can’t wait to see you there!
