Recounted by: Magenta Mudgway (they/he)
CW: discrimination, homophobia
“Do you remember the 21st night of September [1994]”? 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 edge of NZ’s Queer History LIFE ON THE 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.
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.