A CLIMATE OF HATE
But I tweeted “Moved countries, became a second-class citizen” later in the year when it was announced the postal vote was going ahead. Because that’s how it felt.
Despite being lucky enough to secure a scholarship to move from Auckland to study my PhD here, arriving in Australia wasn’t all positive.
The discussion about same-sex marriage was a shock. I had campaigned fiercely for marriage equality in New Zealand, both through my writing and community work, and was so proud when waiata broke out in our Parliament. I watched the third reading from Rainbow Youth’s headquarters on Auckland’s K Rd, surrounded by my queer family.
Somehow though, in the four years since New Zealand passed its amendments to the marriage law, I have got used to taking my right to marry as a given. How naive and privileged that now seemed.
Due to politicking, the Australian Government spent $122 million on a non-binding vote that essentially asked the public if they were OK with my sex life, and I was not ready for this. Just after the bill was passed, Chloe rushed in the door.
She’d left work early to try and make it home in time to see the results. When she arrived, we danced around the house cheering, then walked to our favourite bar to celebrate. We held hands the whole way down the street.
I gripped hers extra tightly as we passed a swastika sign stickered to a lamp post on the corner of our street.
This has been our reality in Australia since we arrived.
There has been a sharp contrast between the majority of people who support same-sex marriage, so much so that they never saw it as being an issue in the first place, and a small conservative minority who seemed irrationally intent on making life difficult for the LGBTIQ+ community.
It was in the intrusive way many “vote no” campaigners spread their rhetoric.
It seemed like night after night there were debates across the television with outspoken lobbyists given equal airtime to broadcast views bordering on discriminatory.
As soon as I switched on any media, they were there – on the TV, on social media, clogging ad channels – trying to convince everyone that people like me are a threat to society.
For a large chunk of the year it felt like I was enveloped in a climate of hate; from swastika signs to vandalism of rainbow flags and propaganda about how marriage equality would feminise children.
Like the weather on a muggy day, its sticky, unseen presence was constant, unescapable and exhausting.
Anti-gay rhetoric even clouded the sky. The weekend before I first saw that swastika, I had been