MENTAL HEALTH REPORT
away in Sydney. It was there in one of the city’s most gay-friendly neighbourhoods, Newtown, on a quiet Sunday morning while out getting coffee, that the words “Vote NO” appeared, skywritten, above us.
At the time, Chloe and I were staying with Australian Airbnb host Donna Harris, ally and proud mother of a gay son. She helped organise some of the big equality rallies in Sydney and has been involved in organising Mardi Gras floats for several years now.
We chatted about the No campaign with her. “The Vote No skywriting disgusted me,” says Donna.“I felt that the No voters were so completely uneducated about the whole point of the survey and that skywriting made it feel as if they were the majority view.”
To see someone so passionate about equality admit that returning a strong “Yes” vote was unlikely because of the pervasiveness of the No campaigners’ propaganda was a low point.
When I got back to Brisbane I talked to local Jay Haurat. He was running his own rainbow flag campaign in response to the skywriting. Seeing those words “really was quite upsetting”, he says. “I think the ‘Vote No’ campaigners really are playing politics with people’s lives.”
While watching news of the bill passing I messaged my ex-girlfriend, Shanara Hemi, a Kiwi from Kaeo who now lives in Melbourne with her Australian partner Shellie Curran and Shellie’s son. “I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU AND SHELLIE!!!” I wrote, knowing they wanted to get married. Passing the law was absolutely a moment to celebrate, but it has come at a price because the convoluted process of the plebiscite did mess with people’s lives. A preliminary report of more than 9500 LGBTIQ+ Australians in the lead-up to the postal survey results being announced shows that more than 90 per cent of respondents were negatively affected by the debate.
Additionally, the report, by the Australian Institute and National LGBTI Health Alliance, found that depression, anxiety or stress among LGBTIQ+ respondents increased by more than a third after the announcement of the vote, compared to the six months before the announcement.
Memory is a funny thing. Maybe I was wrapped up in a happy gay bubble on K Rd during NZ’s debate, but I don’t remember feeling so upset then. I remember feeling nervous but optimistic, sure that the likes of Colin Craig [founder and former leader of NZ’s Conservative party] didn’t have power to influence rational debate in Parliament.
Sure, there were moments when I experienced bigotry in New Zealand. Like the time some guys at Eden Park heckled me after I pointed out that calling the ref a “fag” was not cool.
I grew up in Mangawhai Heads, Northland; Chloe in Thames, Coromandel. Both of us have certainly had to go on our own journeys to accept our sexualities – especially coming from smaller towns.
But most of the discrimination I’ve faced at home has seemed as the result of a minority of ignorant individuals...not part of a nationwide, statesanctioned – and ironically, technically democratic – campaign. And one where both sides are put in a position where it’s necessary to vote and publicly debate whether a minority group is worthy, because of who we are, of being equal to other citizens.
It was like election time, everywhere people were trying to convince you to align with their position.
It felt like the debate had somehow dehumanised us queers, and I personally felt like my life was being