SISTERHOOD
ISSUE 003 SEX & RELATIONSHIPS
PÄ’PUERE 2020
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IN THIS ISSUE
THE THREE OF US “Do you think you’ll go all the way once you find a boyfriend?”
A+B=? Two sisters, both alike in family, both unalike in sexuality.
NON-MONOGAMOUS ADVENTURES I guess I’m not the most likely person to have an affair.
REPORTING ASSAULT One out of three girls will experience sexual violence before the age of 16.
CREATIVE CARE Mindful colouring in.
FRANKLY FRANKIE Growing up a man in a 'woman's' body.
DEPENDENT Emma navigates the dating world.
HOW TO BE AN ALLY Hint and tips on helping your pals who come out.
POETRY PORTFOLIO A Sisterhood Collection
EVA'S SASS SECTION Monthly Moon Bullshit / Quiz / Opinions.... What else could you want?
Introducing
ART BY SETH Originally from Michigan, Seth currently works out of a small town in the mountains, which is his favorite town he’s ever been to. It’s a tiny town in West Virginia, which is located within the United States which was created by some humans drawing imaginary lines across a landmass called North America on a planet called earth which is a rock in a universe that no-one really understands. There, aside from making art, he deeply enjoys writing, looking at clouds, gazing into the woods, marveling at the innate brilliance of common things and having small parades with the fine people he’s been lucky enough to come to know and love. A lot of the work he makes is, at the heart of it, about being entirely boggled by the great universe that no-one really understands. He’s not boggled in a paralysing way but rather in a let’sjust-keep-pushing-buttons-and-see-what-happens sort of way. He keeps pushing a lot of buttons and it keeps getting more and more interesting. He is self taught, didn’t go to art school, and couldn’t draw a shoe very well when he was young. In fact, he spent the majority of his youth believing that he was not an artist at all. While he still cannot draw a shoe very well, he is happy to have eventually learned that the ability to do so has no consequence on whether or not one should be making art. He considers daydreaming essential, wonder imperative, and an unyielding reverence for life boundlessly imperative.
THE THREE OF US “I thought it’s just the tip that goes in? How do you fit a whole thing in there?” “Don’t be stupid. Of course it’s more than just the tip. Have you seen that scene in The Matrix Reloaded?”
“Hold on, why is that your go to sex scene? If you’re that interested why wouldn’t you
“Mum has a child lock on all my media access. The Matrix is the best one I’ve seen so far.” “Well it doesn’t matter anyway. The penis only goes in if you’re having a baby, you’re not supposed to do it otherwise.” I
burst
out
“Yvette, please. I know they don’t have sex ed at your school, but you can’t honestly believe that.” Aaleyah
speaks
sometimes when she talks, I see her 12-year-old self staring back at me. We talk like this often. Aaleyah and I have each had a boyfriend, but it’s never gone much further than a kiss and a grab of the boobs at most. Yvette acts as if she’s never even seen a boy.
just look up porn?”
Aaleyah and laughing.
grown up in our own way, Yvette still oozes childhood innocence. We’re 17 now, but
through
a
mocking sort of chuckle, but her eyes are sympathetic. Yvette’s parents sent her to a private religious boarding school for girls after we turned 13 and, while we’ve all
“I don’t know. I have exams to study for. Maybe I’ll think about it over summer.” Aaleyah scrunches her nose.“How can you be thinking about exams? We’ve nearly finished high school and none of us have had sex yet. I don’t want to go to uni still a big fat virgin.” “You won’t go to uni unless you pass. See it as an investment in your future non-virgin lifestyle.”
“What about you, Ana?”
I shrug. Aaleyah seems to worry about these things a lot more
Yvette rolls her eyes, and Aaleyah giggles. It’s true, I’m more concerned with exams than losing my virginity. But there’s another thought tugging at my consciousness that won’t go away – why am I not interested? When I dated Paul, I really couldn’t fault his efforts as a boyfriend – but
than I do. What boys will say to her, think of her, when she’ll
when I looked at him, I felt no attraction, no desire, no interest
lose her virginity.
in ‘giving up’ my oh--so-special flower to him. It’s bothered me
I’m not sure what I think of it all – it seems so important to
ever since we broke up, but I’m reluctant to delve into the
everyone, whether they’re scared to lose something or desperate to get rid of it. I do know that something about it makes me feel uncomfortable, and I don’t totally know why
reason in case it scares me more than the thought of a relationship itself.
I zone back conversation a late.“Huh? What?”
into little
the too
“Do you think you’ll go all the way once you find a boyfriend?”
I’m pulled out of my thoughts by Aaleyah’s cheeky grin.
“Who
wants
to
watch
The
Matrix Reloaded?”
--My legs are cold. The bottle of beer handed to me earlier in the night has gone warm in my hands. I’m tipsy, but not too drunk. I can feel my stomach clawing up my esophagus,
Nonetheless, we share stories about our year, our studies, our new lives. It feels good to have her here – I didn’t realise how much I missed her, and I can see in her smile she’s thinking that too. “…and Julian is the sweetest.
Her gaze lingers on me, waiting for an answer. “Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know if it makes me feel any more in control of anything though.” Her eyes light up.“You have done it! Did it hurt much?”
desperate to get rid of the alcohol inspired from the memory of last night – but I
He’s flying out to visit me over the break! You could meet him if you want. You know, you were
“Uhh, no, not really –“
keep it down with a small burp and a quick sip of water. It’s been almost a year of the constant drinking that all too
so right about my exam results being a lifestyle investment. Getting the scholarship to go overseas got me the best
“Same, it didn’t hurt at all for me. Julian was just so patient and caring. Who was yours? Was he hot? Do you have a
often comes with being a university student, and I think my body is on its last legs.
boyfriend. He’s so sweet and kind, and SO good in bed!”
photo?”
“Ana? Is that you?” I immediately recognise the voice. “Aaleyah? What are you doing here?” I’m flooded with a deep sense of joy when I see her familiar face. I get up quickly and stumble, but she soon envelops me in a tight hug. “I flew back in last week. Grace mentioned she was having drinks here and I figured you’d be around, sorry I didn’t get in contact earlier. Mum’s had me on house arrest to fuss over me now that I’m back.”
She laughs loudly, but I can see her eyes watching me closely. She’s proud of her new identity, and she’s curious about mine.
Her expectant stare bores into me. “Uh, no. I don’t have any photos of her.”
“He sounds great. I’m really
Aaleyah’s brow furrows into confusion before the realisation spreads and settles across her
happy for you.”
face.
She looks down, blushing.
“Oh. I didn’t… oh. I mean, that’s cool. I just didn’t know.”
“What about you? Anyone in your life yet?” There it is. I smile and shrug.“No one in particular. Just things here and there.” Aaleyah’s eyes are latched onto my face, searching for clues.
I offer a weak smile. “Well, I guess.. I mean does that count? It’s not really sex is it? Like there’s nothing… nothing going in?” “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“You’ve done it though, right? I We
wander
over
unoccupied sofa room of the party.
in
to
an
another
“How has it been? Studying over in Germany?” Her eyes light up, obviously keen to share. We’ve kept in contact as much as we could, but our closeness has suffered somewhat at the hands of time and distance.
know we always talked about it so much in high school. It
Aaleyah seems to understand the ignorance of her words
seems silly now the things I used to assume about it, but it
before they even finish coming out of her mouth, and she
feels like becoming a proper adult, like I’m in control of my
throws me an apologetic glance. After a polite cough she
sexuality and all that. Don’t you think?”
changes the subject. “Did you get Yvette’s invite?” she
My hands are sweating now. I know Aaleyah, but I didn’t think
asks.
the conversation would turn this way this fast.
Relief floods through me. Something else to focus on.
“Yeah. I can’t believe she’s actually getting married. And to that guy she always used to go on about from her church.” “Are you going? It’s couple weeks, right?”
in
a
I purse my lips.“I guess so. She hasn’t told me much about it, she probably thinks I think it’s crazy. Which I mean, it is. But we should support her.” Aaleyah nods in agreement. The air between us is still slightly awkward. It’s not the worst coming out reaction I’ve had, but perhaps the least prepared I’ve been to do so. It’s difficult when I haven’t even fully come to terms with this version of myself yet. We talk a little more about the wedding, and make plans to go together, but a call from Julian interrupts and she heads off to take it. I slump back into the sofa, suddenly exhausted, and flick a text asking Mum to leave the door unlocked. I think it’s time to head home. --“Aaleyah! Ana! I’m so glad you came!” It’s the day of the wedding, and Yvette asked us last minute to come and help her get ready. The bridesmaids were handpicked by her mother, and Aaleyah and I shared a knowing look as we wander past them pasting Bible quotes to each table placard. “I just wanted some of my really good friends to
help me get into my dress before I walk down the aisle. I mean, I wanted to have you two as bridesmaids, but I totally get that they need to be all from the same church and everything. Most of them are really nice and Charlotte and I have definitely become friends. But I finally convinced Mum to let me ask you guys to help me get ready!” I want to let out a deep sigh, but I just permit myself a smile. Yvette is speaking very fast. She’s nervous. She leads us across the marquee and into the grand building at the back of the lawn. We end up in a large, bright room at the front of the house. Yvette isn’t allowed to wear makeup, so the room is fairly uncluttered – Aaleyah and I bought some anyway. A little blush can’t hurt. “Let’s see what we’re putting you in then. Where’s the dress?” Aaleyah asks. Yvette gestures to the corner of the room, where a simple dress hangs over the mirror. We both wander over to inspect it. “Very cute. Your mum even let you have a little bit of lace, I’m surprised.” Aaleyah comments. “You look great, Yve. I don’t think anyone will even notice the makeup, they’ll just think you’re glowing. I thought you always wanted to get married in a white dress though? Isn’t this more ivory?”
Yvette doesn’t reply to Aaleyah. Her bottom lip begins to tremble, her eyes fixed on herself in the mirror. “Yve?” Before I can say anything else, she bursts into tears, huge, heavy sobs shaking her whole body. Her small frame crumples and she collapses onto the floor, swathes of wedding dress material swamping her as she sits. Aaleyah and I move to join her, both confused. “Yvette? What’s up? Are you nervous? I mean, I think it’s normal to be nervous on your wedding day, right?” Aaleyah tries to comfort her but it’s obvious it’s not that.
“I don’t want to get married!” Yvette cries, her face in her hands, and Aaleyah and I share a stunned look.
I liked him so much and we wanted to, and I don’t know, I guess going to uni made me see how much I didn’t know… about everything. And I was so happy, and Bryan was really
innocent vows. Aaleyah and I try to get close at the reception, but Fiona makes sure she always has someone else in line to speak to her.
“I did… I do. But that’s the
happy too, but then we came home for break and his dad made him go to confession and
Eventually it’s time to watch the newlyweds pull away, ‘Just Married’ sprayed on the back
reason my dress isn’t white. My mum wouldn’t let me wear a white one, because she said it
everyone found out. They said the only way they’d accept us at home ever again is if we
window in bright white lettering. Yvette breaks her happy smile only once, to make
would be lying. She said I had to have some shame for what I did.”
married, to try and repent. And I can’t lose my family, I just can’t…but I don’t want to do this either.”
eye contact with Aaleyah and me, before the car pulls out the driveway and down the road.
“What? I thought you really liked Bryan?” I say.
Yvette wipes her nose on the back of her arm, and I begin to understand. “Wait… does that mean…”
I don’t know what to say. I can see Aaleyah trying to form some sort of comforting sentence in her head but we’re both stumped.
Yes, I slept with Bryan.
“What do you think happen?” Aaleyah asks.
will
I shrug. “I really don’t know. I hope for her sake it works out.” Aaleyah nods in agreement.
“Yve… You don’t have to do this. You could still back out. You
“At least she’s not gay.”
know our families, either one of us would help you…” Aaleyah trails off.
Aaleyah offers a humourless laugh at my sentiment.
Yvette’s mother, Fiona, has appeared in the doorway. She takes a moment, staring down
“I don’t think there would have been a wedding in that case.”
at Yvette on the floor with us on either side, before she clears her throat.
I shake my head. The air goes quiet between us.
“I think that’s enough. You two, go take your seats outside. Yvette, get up.” We both go to protest but Yvette shakes her head and stands.
“Go take your seats, I’ll see you out there.” Her eyes have glazed over. A half hour later, we watch Yvette walk down the aisle, ivory dress on show for everyone to see. Her and Bryan plaster smiles onto their faces and profess sweet,
“Hey, I’m sorry about how I reacted earlier. I guess I just never even considered that as something that would happen. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about it, because you can, if you’re ready.” I don’t say anything, but I take her hand and she gives it a squeeze. We reach the car and begin the drive home, both silent, thinking about Yvette. My heart aches for her, and as I watch the stars come out and the street lamps begin to turn on, I hope her God’s heart is aching too.
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REPORTING ASSAULT One out of three girls will experience sexual violence before the age of 16 years old, with 90% of perpetrators being someone she knows. 1 in 7 boys will be assaulted before the age of adulthood. Those abused in childhood are twice as likely to experience sexual violence again in adulthood. 1 in 5 women will experience rape or serious assault. The LGBTQ+ and those with disabilities are common targets/extremely vulnerable to sexual violence. Only 10 out of 100 cases will be reported, with three of those cases getting to court*.
Approaching the topic of sexual violence in New Zealand is never an easy one. However, the
of sexual violence occur when we know the other person.
of rape by an older man was disqualified due to the likelihood of consent*. How
gross misjustice of mythologies surrounding rape has caused the above statistics to be hidden in cultural beliefs. When we think of sexual violence it is often thought to be a stranger or unknown perpetrator who commits the crime – this cultural ideology stems from an archaic thought that the safety
In fact, it was only in November 2019 that the Green party New Zealand introduced a bill excluding rape myths and the victim’s sexual history from evidence in the court room. Up until this year, we as a country have perpetuated victim blaming and rape myths as substantial evidence to support
ridiculously backward this country has been, defying the very nature of justice by allowing individuals to be defined by their previous sexual backgrounds. This evidence remains shocking.
of an individual is apparent when surrounded by friends,
a criminal’s knowledge of
reasonable’ consent. For
However, it is not my intent to scare the reader. There is
family or partners. In actuality, the most dangerous place for a woman in New Zealand seems to be her own home. Our country records the third highest domestic/sexual violence statistics globally at 16.4% found in a study comparing over 56 countries*. This is because the predominant instances
example, in R v Bourke and R v Phillips, the court found that reasonable consent was formed in these two different instances of rape, because the victim was found to be sexually active with other men. In R v Taria, the court found that since the victim consensually received love bites from her boyfriend, it meant that her experience
fortunately no finality in the above evidence for the state of our country, meaning we must move forward as equal entities in supporting each other, survivors, marginalised individuals and disabled communities to protect and push for further justice that the Green Party has already
set in motion. But let us back track a little – the discussion of broad cultural problems and legal processes is a large umbrella of information, but where do we find ourselves if something terrible personally happens to us? Firstly, we must identify consent, or lack thereof. Consent must be verbal, clear and present in sexual relations – there must be no ‘grey area’. Grey areas can be: non-verbal consent e.g. ‘going along with it anyway’, feeling pressured as though you have to do something you don’t 100% want to, initially consenting then changing your mind (but things continue anyway), someone assuming your consent without confirmation, circumstantial consent, consent by force, intoxicated consent, consent under the age of 16, what you are wearing or doing ‘contributing’ to consent, assumed consent in a relationship or prior sexual history indicating consent. These are all examples where consent is not present. Reflecting on an incident is the first step to labelling your experience as one of sexual violence. I say this is in the kindest way, as survivors will often try to selfjustify an experience as one that was consensual to avoid the deep pain of what they have really endured. It is your mind's way of protecting itself. Next comes the process and decision making, one of strength, pain and endurance. It is most important to put yourself first.
This means reaching the level of help and support you need, whether that may be escaping to a safe place, counselling, legal advice, removing yourself from friend’s / particular environment that is damaging, medical or health care. In my personal experience as a survivor, I went straight to Women’s Refuge. These wonderful women also provide a safe place for the LGBTQ+ community and can provide you with legal advice, counselling, safe transition, safe housing and work closely with affiliated providers in the community if you need to outsource a service unique to your situation. Other fantastic services/networks in our Wellington community include: RapeCrisis, HELP, Toah-Nnest, HV SASH, Thursday’s in Black (Victoria University). For men: Mosaic, HELP, Male Survivors Aotearoa. If you don’t want to visit a centre for support, you can attend a psychologist or psychiatrist under an ACC sensitive claim privately, wherein the government subsidies the cost of therapy. These claims are usually reviewed after six weeks and your provider can extend the course of your claim. However, if you are in a financially detrimental situation it is best to visit centres such as RapeCrisis, HELP and Women’s Refuge as they are able to provide free services and basic items for living if you require them. Women’s refuge supports survivors’ children as
well – whether that be housing or supervision during counselling sessions or group therapy. You may not want to report your situation or move forward with any sort of legal involvement. This is completely understandable, as every individual is different. However, the above services can provide you with legal counsel and can advocate on your behalf with trained professionals should you want to take things further. They can also advise you on the process with police and what the outcome might be. The legal process goes as follows: formal interview police/statements,
with
the
police interviewing the perpetrator, police advising on whether your situation will make it to court or if they wish to take it further based on current law. If your situation makes it to court, you will have to create a victim impact statement on how the event has impacted your life presently and in future, and you will be advised on your rights as a victim, whether or not you need/want to be present at the hearing and how the hearing will pan out. This process is lengthy, and the NZ police are not well equipped with sensitive training to these situations. Survivors note that this process is often more traumatic that the event itself. Again, I implore you as a reader to take your
personal situation into your own hands as an empowered individual with the strength and knowledge that there are so many people out there to support and guide you. I only
emergency assistance from this fantastic company. The bar staff receive sexual assault prevention training from Hospitality NZ every year held at Danger Danger.
write about this process to be informative, as to what you can expect.
Moving forward, an aid to the prevention of sexual assault
Every feminist’s dream is to see all of humanity maintain the
should be the further employment of consent education in high schools, halls
ability to walk the journey of life without fear or repercussion for simply existing. But for now, we must protect ourselves in our current reality. Have confidence in your own power of consent, remain vigilant in your
of residences and hospitality services. With this education we can start a conversation in populations that are most vulnerable, to educate those who are entering a time of new experiences without the
surroundings and relationships, look out for others who may seem vulnerable – publicly or privately.
necessary need.
Don’t be afraid to live your life to its fullest, as sexual violence will not define you or others. Another great service to note here is Sophie's Angels passenger service – they provide emergency free rides/taxis for anyone in a dangerous situation, are LGBTQ+ friendly, sensitivity trained and are affiliated with multiple venues in Wellington to protect those in vulnerable situations. These venues are: Vinyl, Eva Beva, IVY, Shady Lady, Laundry Bar. If you ask for an angel shot at these bars the staff are trained to quietly assist you in receiving
knowledge
they
To end, if you are reading this as a support person, friend or survivor: maintain strength within yourself in consenting to what you want, are comfortable with, and where you are going in life. You are valid, you deserve respect and kindness. You will develop a true strength through all hardship. Honestly, I can’t tell you that I don’t walk home at night after work with a set of keys stuck out of my hand like a weapon. But I can tell you this. I have survived, I thrive, I am informed, I look out for all others, I pinpoint safe places. So can you.
I believe you.
My sister and I were almost identical when we were
A + BI = ?
children. People had a hard time telling us apart. Most assumed that we were twins. Back then there was nothing to separate us; now there’s very little to join us. For all of our differences perhaps the most notable is that she regards herself as asexual and I identify as bisexual. When they were handing out libidos I got it all and she got nothing. While I was chasing boys around the playground (and secretly wishing the girls would get involved too) she was alone in the corner looking at bugs. I’m a complete extrovert and
she’s a shy introvert. How can two people who grew up in the same environment, who were birthed from the same loins, and who shared the same space for such a long time, be so opposed in their outlooks? Our parents treated us equally well and brought us up beautifully. But they had no idea we’d turn out the way we did – one a homebody, the other an itinerant wanderer with one of the highest sex drives known to man- and womankind. Childhood was easier for me than it was for her. Undiagnosed autism and
dyslexia meant a constant struggle for my sister to find acceptance and develop an understanding of the people around her. She retreated. I, on the other hand, was a wild child. I’m constantly seeking attention, sociable, and a natural flirt. Even as a small child people were drawn to me. She’s just withdrawn. She admits that all of her
I demanded books about anatomy and where babies came from when I was seven. I was obsessed with looking at the boobs and willies in the drawings (these days I prefer the more adult versions). I started masturbating before I was ten. I still do, on a daily basis. My sister does it too, mostly to help her sleep, but she doesn’t consider her
eccentricities make it difficult to box her in.
orgasms to be ‘real’.
“I think,” she says, “my lack of desire to have sex is as much linked to my autistic tendencies as to my sexuality.” I love sex and was fascinated by it at a young age.
“I would like to experience a proper orgasm but it’s more out of curiosity than any actual desire. I’m not sure I’d know what to do with an actual person if they came my way,” she unintentionally puns.
As I moved into my teenage years I was obsessed with finding a boyfriend (not yet willing to admit to myself that I also wouldn’t mind a lady) and lusted after people on TV and
I mentioned to someone I fancied them and the look they gave me hurt. I’m not sure desire is the right word for how I feel towards a beautiful person because, in common
in the street. My mentioned no one.
with most of the planet, I have my own ideas of male and female beauty.”
sister
There was a time when I thought she was a lesbian. We were watching The Quick and the Dead and after the finale
she wanted to rewind and rewatch the climax to get another look at Sharon Stone using the weak excuse: “she’s such a strong female character”. There were also hints that she might be transgender.
Her asexuality is still a concept with which I struggle. All I’ve ever wanted is somebody (male, female, whatever) to love me and hold me close. Physical touch does very little for most people who are asexual, my sister preferring to be hugged only by those she likes and knows well, whereas I could easily be described as a hug slut.
Statements such as “I just don’t want these boobs anymore.” and “I’d rather be a man.” cropped up occasionally but were left hanging. My bisexuality was bubbling under the surface and I thought it might be nice to have her come out as gay so that I
I seek solace and comfort in
wouldn’t seem so odd in my desires.
life, her desires, and her beautiful heart? (She’s a much nicer person than me). A friend of hers keeps trying to set her up. Her response is rather direct:
My sister’s lack of longing baffled me for the longest time. I’m desperate, attracted to anything that moves, and psyched when someone reciprocates my attentions and intentions. I am insatiable. I didn’t understand why she never seemed enticed by anyone. If she did, she just never acted on it.
physicality; it’s my love language. She’s happiest alone, in the safety of the environment she’s carefully controlled and knows. How could she not want someone with whom she could share her
“I’ve never wanted to look for the so-called right person and I am quite happy not sharing my space with anyone, thanks.”
“Of course I fancied people,” she tells me, “and I still do; mostly
I’m a romantic fool, a great big softie. My sister isn’t. She’s not hardened by any means – she cries at sad movies, she is emotional – but she has no
men and a few women. But that’s more about wanting to be that woman than being with her. When I was a teen
interest in someone else knowing her intimately. I realise that some asexual people can have perfectly well-functioning
relationships without the messy sex bit. I would rather die a spinster than have a sexless partnership. I’m a demanding lover, needing orgasms aplenty; my sister is satisfied with a book. “Were I ever to find someone,” she declares, “I’m fairly certain that, after a time of experimentation to see if I liked sexual activities, it would be a celibate relationship”. It wasn’t until she went to university that my sister felt that she fitted into a category. Thanks to the internet she could finally name how she felt. Although it still lacks finesse, ‘asexual’ is the closest it gets. We’re all a messy conglomeration of things and sexuality is but a small part of who we are. And it doesn’t matter that we’re so unalike, not in the grand scheme of things. I’ll leave the final words to my wise, loving, lovely sister: “I don’t see myself as free from the ideas of sexuality. I feel a little trapped by it if I think about it too hard.” I love you, sis.
N O N - M O N O G A M O U S A D V E N T U R E S I guess I’m not the most likely person to have an affair. For one thing, I adore my partner. He’s tall and solid. He wears a suit to work every day and never complains about the grind – his only rebellion wearing orange fox socks under his suit pants. He plays Cluedo with our children, makes their lunches, cleans the fish tank. I once wrote a list of things I like about him that ran to four pages. And after 10 years, our own sex life is still pretty good. Sometimes one of us says to the other, “It’s just the same old, same old.” But actually, we don’t mean it – it’s kind of magical. So, I guess the only mitigating factor is that me having an affair was his idea in the first place. He had a long-standing fantasy about me being with another man. He thought it would be good for us. We both read the book Sex Before Dawn,
a
New
York
Times bestseller about human mating systems that suggests having multiple sexual partners was de rigueur for much of human evolution. It reinforced my own strongly held belief that we aren’t really cut out to be monogamous our whole lives monogamous our whole lives. Fast forward through quite a few maneuverings, and the man
with whom I was considering having an extramarital fling
ashamed myself, and rejected – which I realised was crazy,
messaged me.
objectively. What I didn’t know then was that I could have
His wife, initially reluctant, had relented. He said he had limited permission and her stipulations included that it had to be discreet, short-term, that it couldn’t detract from family time, and that she didn’t want to know about it.
subtitled quite a bit of my early non-monogamy experience “Adventures in Erectile Dysfunction”.
My husband had already agreed. Opening up our relationship had been his idea, after all. Our first date was not a success. We met at a cabin in a campground; suitably seedy, I thought. I paid $90 for the room for the night – although we didn’t plan to be there that long. He couldn’t pay, of course, because he and his wife shared all their accounts and that would fly in the face of the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell rule. We had a cider together sitting at the outdoor table overlooking the bay. As the
But that was in the future. Right now, I felt bad for him and bad for us, or what little nascent “us” there was. “Emotionless sport fucking” is what they call sex without connection in a book called
The
Ethical
Slut
–
practically the bible for ethical non-monogamy. “There’s a world between emotionless sport fucking and committed long term marriage-style relationships.” I took that to heart. I knew we’d be somewhere along the scale. So we met again. And the affair began in earnest. He worked within 1km of my home office so lunch breaks worked best.
early autumn sun went down, we talked about our jobs, our kids. We discussed our marriages, and safe sex.
Sometimes he’d bring us coffee
He’d had one other lover in the eight years he’d been married.
How wicked it felt. How lovely to be touching a different body:
I’d had none. As it happened, we didn’t get that far.
muscly, hairy, smaller than my husband. I learnt what he
We closed the curtains and sat
likedwhat he didn’t. How amazing to be wanted by
on the bed. We kissed. I thought it was good. But then, physically, he couldn’t do it. He felt terrible. I felt somewhat
or I’d make us tea. Sometimes we just lay down on the bed in our spare room.
someone new. I grew to love the angles of his body, square shoulders, dip from hips to pelvis.
gardener and I’m a complete slob in the garden; because his children attended Playcentre, whereas my husband and I had tried it with our children and found it way too demanding of parental involvement. We hardly saw each other, really, maybe once or twice a week. But still my husband grew jealous. He read my emails. He tracked me on Find My iPhone. He wanted details of every interaction. And who could blame him? His wife was falling in love with another man. I still loved him as much, and in some ways more for allowing me the freedom. There were benefits for him too. Our own sex life was on fire. And somehow, through what I now admit was his own pain and despair, he appreciated me more. One time he sent me a text message: “I love being part of such a beautiful intense thing.” And I appreciated him more too – through the comparison with my lover, I realised how right my husband was for me and how much our love for each other was entwined with the life we had built together: our children, our families, the 138 friends we have in common on Facebook. I never for a second thought of leaving my husband for my lover. Not at that time, not with that lover. But my adventures in non-monogamy had just begun.
CREATIVE CARE Here at Sisterhood, we are firm believers in the place art has to support mental health. Art, regardless of its form, can be a place to relax, to discover, and to express the subconscious without the need for pressure or expectation.
Suggested colour associations:
Happy Calm Sad Excited Angry Love Passion Joy
HOW TO BE A GOOD ALLY TO SOMEONE WHO IS..
NON-BINARY Firstly, love them. Love them exactly the same as you loved them before. Nothing has changed, but they've accepted themselves and trusted you with who they are. Make sure you use the pronouns they've chosen. It could be "they/them", "ze/zir", or even "it". It might take time to retrain your brain, but you can do it!
One day, your friend might decide to dress in a more "traditionally masculine" way. This doesn't make them any less non-binary either! Correct other people when they get the pronouns wrong, even when your friend is not around. One day, your friend might decide to dress in a more "traditionally feminine" way. This doesn't make them any less non-binary!
TRANS Firstly, love them. Love them exactly the same as you loved them before. Nothing has changed, except they've accepted themselves and trusted you with who they are. Their genitals are none of your business! Unless they start a conversation about it, best not to ask intrusive and super personal questions.
Use the correct pronouns. It's okay if you fuck up, but make it right as soon as you can. Instead of apologising when you make a mistake, thank them for being patient with you. It's not up to them to do the emotional labour, they've already got a shit-ton of their own to do! It doesn't matter if you think your friend 'passes' as the gender they've transitioned to or not. It's about how they feel inside, not what they look like. The world is a very hard place for transgendered people. Be the safe space they need.
Correct other people when they get the pronouns wrong, even when your friend is not around.
LESBIAN Firstly, love them. Love them exactly the same as you loved them before. Nothing has changed, except they've accepted themselves and trusted you with who they are. Women loving each other is not a performance for straight men. Women loving each other does not have to be gendered by asking "who's the man?" Be a safe space for your friend by not asking silly, intrusive questions!
GAY Firstly, love them. Love them exactly the same as you loved them before. Nothing has changed, except they've accepted themselves and trusted you with who they are. It's not the done thing to ask "who's the woman?" when they're in a relationship, for so many many reasons. Their sex life is none of your business. Unless you're really close, there's no need to ask anyone if they've tried anal. Don't say "that's so gay" when you mean something's not up to standard. Casual homophobia is not cool, peeps. Only say "that's so gay" if something is, indeed, very very gay.
Many people think "lesbian sex" isn't "real sex". Don't be that person! Lesbians generally orgasm way more than straight women (we know what we're doing!). Don't ask how they have sex. Perhaps wonder how they ever stop!
BISEXUAL Firstly, love them. Love them exactly the same as you loved them before. Nothing has changed, except they've accepted themselves and trusted you with who they are. Bisexual does not just mean bi as in two genders/binary these days. It's evolved, as language does, to include "my gender and other genders".Â
There's a lot of prejudice against bisexuals in both the straight and queer communities. Dating isn't as easy as you might think. Be kind as they endlessly scroll through Tinder for someone who will accept them. Your friend is not "going through a phase"Â and they're not "undecided" about what they are yet. Your friend is probably not the mythical unicorn who automatically wants a threesome because they're bi. They might be, but don't assume that they are! Ditto polyamorous.
ASEXUAL Firstly, love them. Love them exactly the same as you loved them before. Nothing has changed, except they've accepted themselves and trusted you with who they are. Remember, just because you (possibly) and society are obsessed with sex, doesn't mean they are. Check our article A+B=? on page Remember that virginity is a social construct! They are not 'lesser' people for not having sex. They are not 'broken' (there's a beautiful scene in S2 of Sex Education about being asexual, highly recommended viewing). Don't assume they don't want a relationship (unless they are also aromantic). Many asexual people have fulfilling romantic relationships without sexual contact of any kind.
SECOND GEAR KATHY WRIGHT
I rode up over the crest of the hill, waiting for the other side. The shudder of the gravel under wheel wore at my nerves. The car’s old; a slightly newer rust bucket, but a rust bucket nonetheless. I’m driving on borrowed time. With each rise of the hill I’m simultaneously closer to and further from home. Each metre a gain towards everything I’ve sacrificed. A metre away from everything I’ve left behind. Taupō glistens between the hills. Each bend exposes another stretch of shore. Beckoning. I should be tired by now; but I just want to keep moving. The stop is short. Quick meal, family in the next booth laughing, young couple flirting on the viewing platform above. A homeless man begs outside. Back in the car. Back to the road. The sun lowers closer to the last town. I almost stopover, but Levin is already going to bed. Why stop when you can keep running? The farmland stretches on. It’s almost too hard to see now,
but the light lingers. The bends get me, and I know it’s going to be a bitch coming back down with a trailer. Podcasts keep me going. And the light, cast low across pasture. Yesterday still matters but stings less. Fifty dead at the hands of a nationalist raises a decade of a brother’s rhetoric from the depths of my memory. If excitement doesn’t spur me, at least disgust and guilt keeps my foot to pedal. No stopping now. The words we don’t ever say linger like ghosts in our doorways as we leave home. You never plan to look back, but habit’s a bitch. Sometimes an exit is the best rebuttal you can muster, however meagre or bitter it tastes. I round the corner, and the shoreline blows away regret. Even the cynical part of me, travelling down the single-entry road past the tourist trap of a peninsula, can’t dispute the city planner’s choice. Still, every time I enter the city, no matter the direction, my breath catches. There’s something about the sea that calms and frightens me. The power, the expansion, the uncontainable. It’s one of the places I most feel
When I pull into the motel my
"I smile properly for the first time"
keys are in the apartment. I call my mother to let her know I’ve arrived, and busy myself with
so-called fetish the city planners must have with them.
dragging my suitcase up the steps as quietly as possible. I’m too tired to refuse my brother’s conversation when he takes the phone. Since yesterday, he’s become the last person I want to speak. He mentions how we
“How come there’s a huge hedge?” I ask. The bushes in Albert Park in Auckland city were always flowers, seasonal and perfectly clipped, framed with green hedges.
alive. Wellington sits on the coast, at the edge of the harbour. And every time I drive towards the city centre, I feel like I’m driving home. It isn’t the buildings so much; it’s the sea I love.
never really said goodbye – it was a quick move; I accepted the position and was gone in two weeks. No way I was sticking around longer than I had to. Guess we’ll catch up later. Meaningless agreements on either end. Surprising how easy it is to lie, half-truth leaving my lips like a breath. The next day I join my friends; those down for the weekend, and those recently moved. The street posts are lined with rainbows. Traditional tunes spout from a nearby pub, proud on a St. Patrick’s Day I had completely forgotten about. We head out to the airport later, past the million roundabouts and joke about a
The hedge-line or ground of the hill is spray painted or something. A flag proud of every colour. “Oh, yeah, it’s the gay capital,” a friend explains. “We have a gay capital?” “Yeah, didn’t you know it was Pride? The parade was cancelled because of the national security risk.” I hadn’t even remembered it was Pride. When did my concepts of time become so shattered? I smile properly, for the first time since I stepped out of the car. “Guess I’m in the right place then.”
LET'S TALK TRASH
Rubbish tips from the Rubbish Trip
Liam: We are the Rubbish Trip. We identify with it, so that’s what we call ourselves! We’ve been travelling all over New
room and were looking through windows. It was only going to be a one-off but we got lots of requests from school teachers
We were only supposed to do this for a year! Zero waste advocacy is important but it’s also important to keep
Zealand for the last two and a half years giving free talks to schools, businesses and communities about zero waste living. We’ve lived without a
to come in and talk to their students. Since then we’ve been ‘unemployed’ for three years, living off the sharing economy. We were
developing and evolving. The Zero Waste movement is growing rapidly but we go into a community and leave. We want to work collaboratively
rubbish bin for five years, and been nomads for half of that time.
crowdfunded originally but it’s more organic than that now. People support us by hosting us in their homes. We live off $20 a day by doing odd jobs here and there.
with communities grassroots.
at
the
Liam: We love doing it this way. We connect with the communities and see so much
Liam: We love to support people but we also have independent interests. Obviously they’re related to waste and other environmental issues. Our desire is to expand, to broaden out, and make more
world in different ways and learning so much. Our
more. If we had funding we’d be staying in motels, not
connections. The project has been all-consuming but we’ve
perspective change was profound and we wanted to
making the connections, and we wouldn’t have the
built a real platform and made amazing connections.
share it with people. Our only audience to begin with were
independence to say what needs to be said – there are no
Holly: We’re meeting more and
friends and family – things got really intense!! They weren’t the right audience.
uncomfortable funders! We do plan to shake things up a bit this year and not travel so much.
Holly: When we started living zero waste back when we had ‘proper’ jobs. We did it in our own time, for us. A few months in, our lives were changing rapidly. We were seeing the
In July 2016 (after we’d been waste free for 18 months) we decided to do a public talk to
Holly: We’re booked until April, after which we’ll take a couple
get it out of our systems. We did it in a community space on
of months off to think about our plans. Travelling full time,
Tory St in Wellington and did no promo. 200 people showed
giving presentations every other day, we’ve had no time to stop
up! They couldn’t fit in the
and think or take stock.
more people whose values align with ours. It’s not just younger generations. We see older people wanting to connect with a way of living from their childhood that has been undervalued.There are days when I do have hope.
1) Food scraps/organic material make up 30-50% of the average household rubbish bin. Food scraps produce methane and leachate when in landfill. Cut your waste instantly, and reduce your climate change impact, by setting up a compost, worm farm, or bokashi system at home, checking on sharewaste.org.nz to see if there's a drop-off point near you, or signing up to have your compost collected (if available in your local area). 2) Fill your life with reusables so you can avoid disposables. BYO cup, container, cutlery, and bags so you can avoid throwaways when out and about. If it helps you to remember, keep a set in your car. 3) Do some 'simple swaps' bamboo toothbrush instead of plastic, cotton dishcloth instead of synthetic, toiletries in solid bar form instead of liquid in a plastic bottle, and so on. 4) Try getting some of your groceries without packaging. Check The Rubbish Trip Regional Zero Waste Shopping Guides for where you can get unpackaged pantry staples, meat, bread, milk, and other goods in your local area. 5) Have a go at making from scratch some common pantry, bathroom or cleaning items you might otherwise buy in a packet. Check The Rubbish Trip website for some easy and budget recipe ideas!
"THERE ARE DAYS WHEN I DO HAVE HOPE"
BUSTLING
THERE IS NOTHING EXTRAORDINARY ABOUT THIS
An aging woman sat next to me on the bus. There is nothing extraordinary about this; the bus is a public space and
“That it is.” “I pray for the Queen.” I was stumped. “The Queen?”
And it did, for a long while, as we travelled through Hataitai into Kilbirnie.
people may sit wherever. There were, however, many empty seats and I was not prepared to be in such proximity with a stranger. She accidentally sat on the edge of my denim jacket, which I moved moments after she had situated herself.
“Queen Elizabeth the Second of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth, including New Zealand.”
“Do you believe in the Lord Jesus?” Oh shit. Oh shit, she’s one of those. Ever the overachiever, I never want to disappoint anyone. I smiled.
“Oh sorry," she said, shifting her weight to free my jacket corner.
“Is she ill?”
“No, I should have moved it earlier,” I said. I smiled and
I was a touch annoyed. Yes, I knew who the Queen was. I was wondering what her relevance was.
“I went to Catholic school.”
"Oh no, although Prince Phillip doesn’t seem to be doing too good.”
She saw right through that spot of diplomacy with a smile of pity and was off again, reciting something about Jesus and God. I honestly just tuned out. It’s nothing new, nothing I haven’t heard before.
returned to my book. Well, he is nearing one hundred.
“… accept Jesus into your heart,
She was a put together woman. She wore pearls, pink lipstick
Give the man a break.
you will reach Heaven, a wondrous place with all your
that matched the elaborate tinted horn-rimmed glasses, her
“But he has the best care he can get.”
family…”
face framed by her not yet grey hair. “Beautiful day,” she said.
Being a royal will do that. “Right,” I said, hoping to end the conversation there.
And what if you and your family are entirely different? What about the new families you create and choose while
you’re here on earth? “But he’s a gentleman, he’ll wait for you to invite him in.”
Ah, so that was the connection with the Queen, as Head of the Church.
Sounds like the world’s best disguised vampire to me.
“I’ve gone through others, Presbyterian, Baptist, Methodist. Oh excuse me, this is my stop.”
“Otherwise, if you don’t, the Devil will come and take you to
And off she popped. Godspeed. repeating words, a mouthpiece.
hell. You have to think very carefully about which way you want to go.”
The thing that struck me most about this unusual Tuesday
Ah, so she’s not a Catholic. Otherwise she would have mentioned the great After
morning interaction was how when she started her little speech, I stopped listening. Partly because I knew I would
Hours Waiting Purgatory.
Room
called
"THERE WAS NO FEELING IN WHAT SHE WAS SAYING"
She asked me a personal question, I’m going to ask one of her. “What religion are you?”
learn nothing from it yes, but she whittled it off like the prayers we used to say so fast before lunch at my primary school. It was a competition, who could say it faster?
“Anglican at the moment,” she replied with a slight smile.
There was no feeling in what she was saying. She was merely
EMILIE HOPE
I would like to suggest to the aging woman that her attempt to convert me was largely to do with her lack of zest. Try again next time, I guess.
HOW CAN THEY COMPREHEND THE AGONY?
DEPENDENT AN
I often wonder why people want to be with me. I have so many issues and ‘stuff’ to deal with, it’s hard to understand how anyone could look past that. I know I have value. I know there are good things about me that others value, but I am not completely sure what they are. I’ve had a couple of long-term relationships. I met both of them when we were in the mental health wards and before I had the correct diagnoses for my struggles. I suppose it’s not the ideal situation in which to start dating! But, like anyone else, I want to care and be cared for. I want to spend time with someone and be less lonely. I had a good time with boyfriend one and boyfriend two. We had good connections, we went on trips, and we learnt from each other. But when I’m with someone, I constantly ask them why they’ve chosen me. There’s so much physical and emotional pain that I’ve been through in my life, I’m honestly not sure I’ve ever really wanted someone to face that.
INTERVIEW
-
KATE
SPENCER
How can they comprehend the agony? People always say I have nice eyes and, when I make an effort, they tell me I’m pretty. I’ve got a good (terrible) sense of humour, I’m funny, and I’m kind. Men are interested in me, but I sometimes wonder if they’re taking advantage even more than I realise. My Asperger’s means I’m overly kind and want to be as helpful and nice to people as I can. I don’t want people to feel bad, so I’ll do things that I might not want to. Asperger’s also means I’m oblivious to social norms and I’m quite innocent. One boyfriend went further with me sexually than I was ready for; he told me it was a normal step in the relationship. He also told me sex was what people did to make up for something they’d done wrong. And it’s not just sex where people manipulate me. Family, friends, and flatmates have coerced me into doing things that I didn’t really want to.
They know I’m going to say yes so they don’t “hate” me. I’ve been told about other instances like this, but I can’t recall them. I don’t know why people do it. I guess they know they can get away with it and it benefits them in some way. Eventually I want to settle down and have a family. I would definitely get a genetics test to see if any of my issues are hereditary. If they are, I’d consider adoption or fostering. No one should go through the things that I have. But I’m not at that stage yet. I’d like to get therapy to help understand my emotions better, with regards to my Asperger’s. I need to learn how to cope with things. I also want to get my OCD symptoms more under control. But the therapy I need is too expensive, so it’ll have to wait. Hopefully, sometime in the future, I’ll be ready to share all of myself with someone. Right now, I’m happy to be single. I need to focus on improving my mental and physical health before I can pursue a “normal life”.
NOPE SISTERS AN INTERVIEW WITH BRITTANY PERRY
Almost three years ago, Brittany hand-stitched a boob and mastectomy scar on a t-shirt to
can’t wear it outside yet, even though it’s my new favourite!”
put out there. The message has to be meaningful.”
show support for her mum who’d had breast cancer.
2020’s going to be a big one for the Nope Sisters.
Today, Brittany is at the Nope Sisters’ pop-up shop on the Wellington waterfront, accompanied by dog Pippa, doing a roaring trade. We nipped down for a natter.
“There are so many organisations that I want to work with and causes I’m passionate about. I’ve got so many ideas fizzing away for 2020,” she says, excitedly.
The sisters also want a vegan or plant based tee. We’re struggling to make changes but Brittany cheers us on.
Things seem to be going well.
“I need to match my design
“We won free rent at the pop-
ideas with a partner charity, but it has to be an open dialogue.”
up market for the summer and it’s been great! We were super busy just before Christmas.” the
Ideas include something for LGBT+ youth, differently abled people, the neurodiverse and more.
"We’re just about to launch our new t-shirt for Sexual Abuse
“I’m not them and the designs need to be directly related to their experiences. They need to
Help Auckland. I love it, but I
be comfortable with what we
And there’s pipeline.
more
in
“All or nothing is really hard but you can still make an impact. Don’t be discouraged, cutting back on meat slowly or choosing free range is good. There are conversations to be had.” We talk about the prevalence of “greenwashing” – companies jumping on the bandwagon, paying lip service to green issues for sales while still employing labourers for pennies in less developed countries. “If you’re going to make change
Empathy should be the norm. you have to implement it at ground level.”
days when I don’t want to talk to anyone!” she laughs.
Nope Sisters use A1 Apparel in
How do you do it? We’re super
Petone, where each t-shirt is made to order and hand stitched.
impressed.
“There’s
no
wastage,
we’re
employing local people, and pumping money into the local economy.”
“I don’t have any fear of failure! I just do it and if it doesn’t work out, so be it. Better to have failed heaps of times and be able to move on.” You’re amazing and so modest.
They’ve built an incredible community of like-minded people. “A lot of people share exactly the same values as us,” says Brittany, “we’re not new and exciting!”
“Well, there’s a little bit of the old Imposter Syndrome in me, but my family are super supportive and give constant affirmation. I didn’t have any
conversation
business or fashion experience when I started doing this, I just went for it. I do it because I’m passionate, I have to do hospo
starters. When someone wears Nope Sisters clothing, people
jobs on the side for pocket money. But we’ve grown and
talk.
established an ethos. It’s a privilege to be able to put what we do out there.”
The
shirts
are
“There’s not one person who wears our tees that I haven’t liked.”
And what about religion and relationships?
Brittany has terrified people on the street by screaming excitedly that they were
“The backbone of it all is ‘don’t be a dick’. Empathy should be
wearing her designs. “I had to stop wearing my t-shirts on
the norm.”
Share your support at:
www.nopesisters.com
Frankly Frankie Growing up a man in a ‘woman’s’ body.
Frankie was two years old when he asked where his penis was. At the age of six he started
High school wasn’t an easy time for Frankie, he was suicidal day in, day out. To cope he made
identifying as a boy.
himself very busy, becoming the 1st 11 football goalie, learning the euphonium, and getting top grades across all classes. This worked for a while until a football injury ripped the muscle off his left hip.
“I grew up wearing ‘boys’ clothing, playing with ‘boys’ toys, and doing general boy things.” When puberty hit at 11 and his, in his words, more ‘feminine’
With sport no longer an option,
characteristics kicked in, his mother forced him into a girl’s school uniform. The ’90s and ’00s were a struggle,
Frankie threw public life.
information wise.
community leader working alongside Michael Wall, the then (somewhat controversial) Wanganui mayor.”
When puberty hit, Frankie suffered severe stress from the transition his body was making against his will. He developed OCD and trichotillomania (ripping out your hair) to the point of having massive bald
“At
13
I
himself
became
a
into
youth
Frankie also found comfort in music. Alongside the euphonium, he also plays the guitar, piano, and any brass
spots.
instrument.
Frankie’s family were churchgoing folk and Frankie didn’t
“When I was 16 I ended up writing music for the New
understand how God could be so loving and yet judge so many
Zealand Army band in which I played.”
people. “My mother would threaten me with conversion therapy as a punishment, starting around year 8 and not giving in until year 10.”
Frankie was approached by a boy at his Anglican church (remember at this point he is still presenting as a female) who confessed attraction for him. Frankie felt pressured to do and
say as this boy did…everyone else had boyfriends. Right? Frankie followed this boy to a music room in high school where they started hooking up and the boy started doing
The 22-year-old was manipulative and told Frankie that if he ever left her, she would kill herself. Frankie was stuck and subject to further “unethical activities”.
he was most comfortable in (from the men’s section) and had never paid notice to his sense of style magically started praising his breasts and legs. They told him he was a
“unethical things”. The boy went on to slice Frankie’s neck open with a knife and walked away.
Frankie discovered the term transgender thanks to Tumblr.
beautiful woman. “I honestly just looked like a big ol’ bull dyke,” jokes Frankie.
Frankie got a scarf wrapped it around his neck and started to walk home. A friend tried to
It felt right at the time. Finally discovering a ‘label’ to fit what he had been feeling, Frankie
In 2011 Frankie was invited to be a keynote speaker at the
stop him but Frankie was certain he wanted nothing said or done about this incident (even though it was incredibly close to his artery).
decided to take the first step in his process and tell his best friend.
Frankie’s mum asked what had happened and he told her in confidence that it would be shared with no one else. “I didn’t want anything to be said or done about the matter.” Frankie’s mother decided to go and tell the whole church. Still struggling to find himself and not knowing where to look or who to ask to do so in a safe and appropriate way, Frankie started dating his babysitter. She was 22 and he was 15.
After telling her she replied, “PEOPLE LIKE YOU DON’T EXIST”. Maybe she was right… so Frankie came out as gay at 16. “It felt okay, like I could stay above water for a little longer with this as a disguise.” His mother reacted to his coming out by telling Frankie that it was his own fault he was sexually abused.
National Youth Diversity forum. At this forum Frankie was asked what he most wanted in life. He answered “HOPE”. He also met other trans people in person for the first time. Fast forward to today and Frankie knows more certainly who he is. “I’m not so sure of the term transgender for myself. I see myself as just a man.”
On occasions Frankie would put on, in his words, “boobylicious
Frankie never really used the term trans-man until he was transitioning, and he stopped saying trans male after he had his top surgery. “I’m a man,” states Frankie.
dresses”. Everyone who normally saw him in the clothes
Yes, yes you are.
Oh, the things we write when we are scared and want to be rescued. Sisterhood Poetry Collection
K A T E
S P E N C E R
God's presence
I don’t like myself today at all I can’t fathom why
but
those pills
in the cupboard are
tempting
painkillers kill pain I’m in pain but if I took them all of them like my brain wants me to
– neurons firing wildly serotonin levels low –
I’d be the one killed not just the pain it would all go away gone God God speaks “I am here, Kate.” the voice whispers gently in my ear “You are worthy, Kate.” the voice rises persistent “You are loved, Kate.” the voice shouts and demands me to listen “I like you, Kate. It’s okay, Kate. Stick around, Kate – I have plans for you, Kate.” I like myself today I’m not sure why but the cupboard full of pills does not tempt me God speaks “I am here, Kate. Still here.”
K A T E For Grace
We said: "You should have been safe here." and yes, you should have been why can't we say that to all New Zealand women? "You should be safe here." you're not you're not safe here you are bruised here you are beaten here you are abused here emotionally, physically, sexually spiritually abused all that you are and could be is taken away by someone else's hand someone else's voice someone else who claims to love you because they have learnt that love must be painful You should have been safe here, Grace but you weren't because here no one is ever really safe
S P E N C E R
L E A H For the Woman that Knows Best “To be valued is to be vengeful” A flutter of Hera’s mouth opens in a stream of self-gratifying enchantmenttied by the normative bounds of her delicate spells and probing questions, a clench at the corner of her tongue conveys a self-depravity of insistence. “To end oneself against a man's privilege holds you to destruction” She notes, waggling her fist against the Gods, as though her marriage was not a hypocrisy of her own advice: wearing a snakeskin dress, cigarette inhaling the male gaze. “For I know best of toxicity, woman to woman” O Hera, lecturing me intoxicated in a foul decrepit bar, imparting knowledge as though her tyranny of selfishness was made of feminist morale, as though singular experience was law: asking me to justify my existence, asking me to justify the parry of love.
And I say, “To count the boundlessness of love and to be loved is to meditate on one’s own strength”, aged wisdom sings upon the earth as I walk home.
M C P H E R S O N
L E A H
M C P H E R S O N
Midnight Sun
Life transposes onto the midnight sun, coldly dreary, obnoxiously brilliant, self-contained in the gazes of all who feed on strange juxtapositions. But the scintillation reaches the altitude of an endless galaxy, heaving with rhythms of the soul, quivering at the centre point of being; and I, rushed into pinnacles of bewilderment, hold life as rays in the darkest hours, blindly content in the monstrosities of existence that remains unfathomable.
Hedonism
My hedonistic throne clutches a supple, sultry figurea tight lowered grasp captivatingly inducing lustful ecstasies, tilting this wanton mouth in salacious rapture. Lewdly lavish, long strokes of shuddering, pulsating winds resound down an indecent pipe in a gently cradled headtantalizing guidance from grovelling ground, to mountains risedeep rumble in taunt peak. you'll scream my name
thunderous clouds pouring, drowning, succumbing to my open call, irresistible luxuriant release.
S H A N N O N I think one day
I think one day I might write about something other than sex but I am throttled by desires to know myself and to know yourself through the sweat and skin of others in like making parchment out of city pavements like the graffiti artist swallowed by gentrification Anyway, I am getting to know myself through close contact encounters of hand holding and laced limbs It is this selfish, hungry need of 20-something year olds crashing up against each other in collisions of caresses and cracks we are dumpster diving for hidden secrets not so hidden between the rot and expired best by dates The Venn diagrams of who knows who link like chains around this town running its grooves into the ground In the summer I’ll eat nothing but nectarines golden and grossly indulgent sticky like morning after sensitivity when we choose our words carefully learning to speak like ourselves look after ourselves then go home to separate pages put pen to paper and write about sex
C O U P E R
S H A N N O N
C O U P E R
With a tongue like that
With a tongue like that and a mouth like mine you are my sweet tooth I’ll take any sugar I can get you are my PB-from-the-jar stickiness my treacle, slow and teasing my ‘bite down it’s good I promise’ With a mouth like that and a tongue like mine You taste like licorice like aniseedlings that sprout along the path from my house to yours from my bed to yours across my skin to yours In the mornings you leave fingers and lips dripping with honey
This room is made of
This room is made of sugar and sun suggestive pools of golden thread tip over the window sill like Rapunzel’s hair begging to be set free I would wind it around my arms and legs and wear it like bondage
J e s s y He Broke my Shell
He crashed upon my shore, Unsure of the substance which splashed upon my skin. The essence of my wai is polluted, violated. Like a hermit, he invaded. Believing I was his & this is where he felt at home. The beach was my safe place, my home. I come from there. I am a child of Hineahuone. He broke through my shell, undesireably. But I broke out of mine, necessarily. He left me with open wounds, for what I can heal. Left me open to fight for who I am. You said I am gay because I have daddy issues. Daddy issues? No. Issues with RAPISTS. Āe!
R o s e
K A T I E
T H O M A S
First
It was his eyes. Then his hair. Spiked hair courtesy of soap and cheap hair gel. He was my first and I was his last. There was no pain, no blood. Only the pressure on my bladder full of juice and stolen vodka. He discarded me at a party a week later. I was the stoic blonde one in the corner of a room full of watching eyes. They all knew his secret. Our secret. I found him again at pint night, three glasses deep. I was older then but the 15 year old inside me let loose. "YOU WERE MY FIRST!". He had a boyfriend by then, no longer smelt like Knight’s Castile. Of course, I told everyone the story, of lying on my back watching his alarm clock, holding on for what seemed like eternity until I could pee. I saw a photo of him recently. Still has those piercing eyes, always fall for the eyes. I was his first. He was not my last.
Swiper
A COLLECTION OF POEMS
I’ve been ghosted And cheated Deserted Defeated Been lied to And cried to Arguments that were heated Sat in cars Outside bars Had suspicions that rang true So for now I’m on my own again And baby, I Don’t Miss You.
S E T H East Lansing
There was a star in the bottle and we smashed the bottle and the star got away and that’s what we had wanted. When you looked down from the top of the parking garage to the alley you could see the beautiful people down there being fools and happy and cruel and pining. I don’t remember whose idea it was to set the phone book on fire but when all those tiny names and addresses shot off into fireworks as the pages fell the seven stories down to the street, I still remember feeling like old St. Pete, sending folks to heaven, but just at random, like a silly lottery, Because really, who’s to say, who deserves it and who doesn’t.
Sisterhood presents
Every m onth!
s ' a ev s s sa n o i t c e s
Monthly Moon BULLSHIT
 QUIZ!
Opinions you didn't ask for, and honestly, you probably don't need.
Having a column, it seems to me, is all about having Opinions. Having Opinions is great – it sets your boundaries, and gives you a voice, and makes you interesting in conversations about boring things like economics, or crustaceans (I don’t know much about crustaceans, don’t @me). But today I want to tell you a story. It’s a story about love. It’s also the story about how I threw up on myself in the car on the way home from a threesome, but let’s tag it with love for maximum views and relatability. My boy and I went to (wait for it) a Halloween party last year. My uni pal’s mum was, apparently, dying to meet me after hearing about my exploits all year (thanks pal) and so myself and a plus one were permitted to attend the family Halloween gathering. We were planning on driving home that evening, but there was homemade alcohol and lots of old people in hilariously naff costumes, and eventually myself, boy, and bestie ended up in the spa pool. Both boy and bestie accuse me of having a perverted mind but as soon as the spa was mentioned I kind of assumed a threesome would follow. We’d talked about it before, it happens in all the movies, what the heck? Anyway, we know already that I was right. Highlights of the makeout sesh in the spa included; being interrupted by her mum bearing sausage rolls (who I like to think had no idea what we’d been doing before we heard her approach); eating the sausage rolls; watching my boy make out w my bestie. Highlights of the threesome included, but were not limited to; the homemade rum I threw back about four glasses of in addition to a bottle of red wine; being fucked by my boy and my bestie; watching my boy fuck my bestie. The next morning, we sat through a lovely breakfast of pancakes and bacon and orange juice and more bacon and banana, bestie and I wearing matching turtleneck jumpers and boy looking fucking stoked with himself, and then we left. Boy drove - I was still drunk. At least I was, until the hangover started to kick in around the top of Vivian St, coming into the city. Boy glanced over, saw me clearly about to throw up (perhaps also indicated by the fact that I’d just gasped, “Fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up”) and handed me a small plastic bag which had until a second ago been holding licorice allsorts. I took the bag, immediately put it to one side, and threw up all over myself. At the traffic lights. Pedestrians were less than a metre away. Boy just sighed, and said, “Oh, babe.” And then he drove us home while I cried and tried not to die, both of a churning stomach and shame. We parked and he ran inside my flat, grabbed a plastic bag and a clean dress, and eventually bundled me into bed, promised me he didn’t find me unattractive covered in vomit (bloody liar) and that despite just fucking my bestie, and me being covered in vomit, he still wanted to be with me forever. See? I told you it was a story about love.
MONTHLY MOON BULLSHIT
Aquarius: .How often do you wash your bras, Aqaurius? Once a week? A month? A year??? And what is the right amount of time to wear a bra before you wash it, anyway? Start a convo with your friends. Write in.
Gemini: You give a lot to causes and people that don’t matter this month, Gemini. That’s life - sometimes we forget how to prioritise. But take a good hard look at who’s worthy and who’s scurvy.
Aries: Hey Aries, pick your clothes up off the floor. A tidy room means a tidy mind. You might need it this month.
Taurus: If you’re feeling overwhelmed, Taurus, it’s time to think about what’s actually bringing value to your life. Are you hoarding knick-knacks? Do you really need that text book from third year psych? I don’t think you do. And I don’t think you think you do either
Cancer: GIVE IT BACK, CANCER. YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. GIVE IT BACK THIS MONTH.
Leo: The latest news on Leona Lewis is "Leona Lewis parties in a plunging pink sequin gown as she and husband Dennis Jauch celebrate New Year's Eve in Las Vegas". There you have it.
An astrological prediction of your future as told by Eva Charles. Admittedly, someone who knows nothing about astrology.
Virgo: Vir-go nuts this month, Virgo. Have you had a wild night out with your gals recently? Have you shot the shit with your boys on a Tuesday over some beersies or a pina colada? Spend time with the people who lift you, and just go fucking nuts.
Libra: The winds of change are blowing, Libra. Don't scowl, your face will get stuck that way.
Scorpio: Have you lost anything this month, Scorpio? Yeah. Cancer has it.
Sagittarius: This month holds a lot of water, Sagittarius. Not in the sense that the idea is a good one ("Yeah, that holds water") but in the sense that perhaps it's going to rain a lot. Enjoy it, get outside, dance in that precipitation, my soggy pals.
Capricorn: You know that feeling when you walk into a room and completely forget why you're there? Try to avoid that this month. They'll get you.
Pisces: Sometimes when you're a fish, the world is hard. To be honest, sometimes when you're a human, life is hard. But also life can be good, like a warm current when a human pees in the ocean. Hold on Pisces, your warm current is just around the corner.
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