Tag: LGBT+

Why Are There No Bisexual Men?
October 8, 2024 12:46 pm Comments Off on Why Are There No Bisexual Men?
After moving to Canberra for uni, I began to make many friends within the LGBTQ+ community, and have found myself in a predominantly queer friendship circle for the past three years. This openness of sexual proclivities was exciting and comforting to me; to know that my new home was a place that allowed my peers to express themselves. But four years into my university degree, I began to wonder why I wasn’t friends with, or couldn’t at least think of, any out-of-the-closet bisexual men, despite the amount of queer people and specifically bisexual women I know.
The Pew Research Centre in Australia found that of the LGBTQ+ community, bisexual men were the least likely to be out to those closest and most important to them, with only 12 percent of them being out. Although this number doesn’t necessarily represent the statistics at ANU or Canberra, it does align with my experiences. So why aren’t bisexual men coming out of the closet?
My preliminary and uninformed assumption was that there was a lack in emotional awareness or acceptance between men, and thus less support for men to come out in general. I imagined that particularly in the case of bisexual men, if you could ‘pass’ as straight throughout high school and university because of past or current female partners, there would be less external pressure and questioning from your peers. There would also be less of a requirement to internally question your sexuality if you were participating in the socially accepted, heteronormative sexual expression. Why engage yourself with emotionally tumultuous questioning of sexual identity if you’re content in your heterosexual relationship? But of course, I realised that I may be forcing an unfair stereotype on men as emotionally stagnant or unsupportive to their peers. To figure this doozy out, I would have to do research.
Considering I wasn’t in a position to ask a bisexual man on the matter, I researched whether my assumptions had a factual basis. Dr. Eric Schrimshaw at Columbia University did a study with 203 closeted bisexual men over the age of 18 to determine why they were afraid or unwilling to ‘come out’. They all varied in their socio-economic status, ethnic backgrounds, and levels of education, but they had all had a same-sex sexual encounter within the past year.
The study immediately negated my previous assumption regarding a potential internal questioning — these men were not confused about their sexuality. Their hesitations about stepping out of the closet revolved around stigma, ridicule, and the fear of being outed to those they didn’t want to know. It also highlighted the additional sub-cultural pressures that Black and Latino men faced which was keeping them closeted. With a highly multicultural demographic in Australia, we can acknowledge there are additional cultural expectations and implications in the ‘coming out’ process to non-anglo ethnicities prevalent in our country. Although this study was done in the United States, we can see how these ramifications may apply to groups of bisexual men in Australia.
However, a major factor which affected many bisexual men took me by surprise. Most of these men affirmed a fear of being left by their female partners because of previous same-sex actions or attractions. “Being attracted to men negates masculinity in the eyes of a shit ton of women” was an unfortunate quote associated with the Columbia study.
Bisexual men and women may face this particular fear of rejection from their partners, regardless of either’s gender, but bisexual women may experience this fear with slight altercation.
As my other bi women friends have agreed, my attraction towards women has predominantly been fetishised by, or is at least attractive to, straight men. Under some circumstances, there was more concern (and likelihood) that my bisexuality was not going to be seen as legitimate by a male partner, rather than a fear of disapproval or disgust from them. But in contrast, the most nonchalant prejudice towards my bisexual friends, and myself, accumulate from interactions with gay or lesbian peers for not being ‘gay enough’, or being under the adjacent assumption that the young bisexual woman is going through a ‘phase’. “You’ll be straight in 10 years,” are comments one may hear, and may not necessarily be untrue. Although there is nothing wrong in a change of sexual identity down the track, having your sexuality renounced once you proclaim it is harmful, even when it’s off-handed comments from within one’s own community. In my eyes, this stems from queer women having to ‘earn’ the partial or full removal of men from their sexual landscape, considering that the only viewing of women’s sexuality throughout recent history has been from a veneer only installed by and for the gratification of men. However, conscious or unconscious dismissal of sexuality is not a reaction bisexual women alone face — it extends to bisexual men and others of the LGBTQ+ community.
With similar fears between bisexual folk, there are some factors which may allow for the sexual liberation of bisexual women, who are more likely to come out. The two that we have inferred are: potentially better emotional support networks, and the reduced harm which comes from a man fetishising a sexually-expanded woman (or at least the idea of a sexually open woman). Some contributing factors which might weigh on men more than women include the tenacious hold that the gendered-stereotype of ‘masculinity’ has on sexuality, and the lack of representation of bisexual men in literature, on screen and as public role models. Despite the rise in ‘queer baiting’ – the incorporation of apparent queer characters or culture in media to appeal to gay audiences – there aren’t many out bisexual men.
Our differences may be surmised to bisexual men being perceived as ‘too gay’, for their partners or for modern media, and bisexual women being perceived as ‘too straight’. For bisexual women, there is an unrighteous safeguard in being considered as less visibly queer, particularly under certain situations where non-heteronormativity may get you into trouble. Although the invalidation from this guise is bitter, and can be detrimental to one’s mental health when over-lived, it may be a different weight to the invalidation of bisexual men only being seen as gay.
I could continue to highlight studies which unequivocally detail the importance of being out and accepted within your community (whether it’s big or small), however, in reality, each individual holds their own importance towards their degree of sexual expression. When there’s a lack of bisexual men who feel comfortable in coming out because of potential stigma, there becomes less support networks, whether explicit or not, for those men who do want to come out. There are potential harms to being closeted, including poor mental health, increased levels of depression and anxiety, and more internalised homophobia. However, I can’t consider why in our current day and age, and in a more culturally accepting part of the world, there is a requirement to come out. I would contest that the culture at ANU, at least from my perspective, is progressive enough that one’s sexuality is accepted whether flown proud in the sky or kept for safe-keeping in your intimate circle. It is not everyone’s desire to be explicit in their sexual preferences, which may be the reason as to why I don’t know many bisexual men, rather than there being a distinct cultural inhibitor at ANU. Bisexual men do not owe it to anybody to come out, even if it aids in support and comradery for their fellow queer male friends. However, it is important for us to cross-examine whether the lack of out bisexual men is due to a genuine choice from the individual or because of an unfortunate reception, especially from their close women-relationships.
Because ANU is a relatively open LGBTQ+ community, unharmful groups of people, queer or not, openly discuss and ‘out’ their friends to a wider circle which is presumed to be a safe and warm environment that will hold such news. This ultimately takes the power away from the individual who may not want their proclivities to be known, even if they are consciously aware that their environment is accepting. I consider this a forgotten practice in an open-community, and although there is no intent of harm from this practice, it may be another reason as to why bisexual men aren’t coming out.

Ruken Zeyto
From Cubicles to Constellations
June 22, 2024 7:02 pm Comments Off on From Cubicles to Constellations
One of my favourite movies ever is Muriel’s Wedding. Following the socially awkward Muriel as she leaves her hometown Porpoise Spit on a quest for her ideal groom and perfect wedding in sunny Sydney, what makes PJ Hogan’s 1995 comedy-drama so memorable to me is how specific it is to Australia. Beyond Toni Collette’s award-sweeping performance as Muriel or even Hogan’s genius crafting of the perfect anti-romcom, Muriel’s Wedding has always stuck out due to its uniquely Australian sensibilities: from its opening vignettes of Australiana to its lurid representation of Williams and Oxford Street in the mid 90s.
So when I was asked to send something in for Woroni’s historical edition I decided to send in a cut-down version of my paper for a modern Australian history class that focused on the significance of gay saunas to the cultural development of Sydney for the same reasons I liked Muriel’s Wedding. I started writing the paper because it was the question my lecturer was clearly most interested in, but what I think I ultimately got from it was how beneficial it was to actually hear from people who lived in the same city as me, alive in the 1970s-90s, discussing their own experiences on streets and in buildings I’ve grown up around.
Anyway, here’s an edited version of that paper:
***
Prior to the advent of gay bathhouse culture in Sydney, there were two general ways through which gay men would meet each other socially: secret networks or “beats”. These private networks were sustained by large groups of closeted gay men hosting events at inconspicuous locations like hotel bars and churches. “Beats” were any public space with confidentiality, ranging from public toilets to nature walks to Turkish baths. Also known as cruising spots, beats worked to some extent as the sauna before the sauna. The more cunning and connected beat patrons often employed “cockatoos”: men they’d previously hooked up with that were down to keep a look-out in case an unsympathetic passerby were to catch wind of what was going on in the “beat”.
Bathhouse culture in Sydney was born in 1967 with the opening of the Bondi Junction Steam Baths. Opened with the explicit purpose of facilitating discrete encounters, some sources go as far as to report that the Bondi Junction Steam Baths alone had 120 guests at any one time and lines of prospective patrons going around the block. From 1971 to 1977, another six bathhouses were opened to capitalise on the growing demand for more saunas. Furthermore, whilst the Bondi Junction Steam Baths were open from twelve to twelve, six days a week, by the late 1970s many of these baths had 24/7 access to meet the massive demand within Sydney’s gay community and a growing consumer base of men who would stay over the weekends.
The socio-sexual significance of bathhouse culture was ensured by the provision of a variety of creative security devices. The gym equipment at many of these bathhouses provided a cover in times of police incursion (rife especially in the 1960s). The excuse of believing that the bathhouse was just a gym rendered buggery offences near impossible to charge. The bathhouse attendant would work as a professional cockatoo, raising the alarm either verbally or by pressing an actual alarm button which would send off an alert to the bathhouse attendees to stop what they were doing and start lifting those weights. Visitors of the baths had to have a connection to a prior patron to be let in. If that wasn’t enough, the attendant would also add another level of security by interrogating the patron at the door about who had referred them, whether they knew what type of gym this was and whether they’d been here before (and so on and so forth). In addition, visitors also had the opportunity to sign in with a pseudonym or in illegible scrawl so as to ensure anonymity if the sign in sheets fell into the wrong hands.
Beyond the sexual, bathhouse culture was also critical to facilitating romantic and platonic connections within Sydney’s gay and greater queer community. It was not uncommon for many men to meet through the saunas, no different to a gay bar or club. For many, the baths were a vital part of the nightlife, a ritual lynchpin for the Sydney gay community. They would start their Friday night at a gay bar like Chez Ivy or the Purple Onion before ending up at either the Bondi Junction Steam Baths or Ken’s. During the 1970s, as more and more bathhouses opened up, proprietors began to employ interconnected floor plans that provided for far greater availability of non-sexual social interaction. Sauna life was key to influencing the ways gay men understood their own sexuality and others, providing activities to a marginalised community which ultimately resulted in improved political awareness and solidarity.
Before discussing the direct political impact of gay bathhouses in greater detail, it’s important to recognise how apolitical gay Sydney life was prior to 1967. In the 1950s and 60s, Australia saw a considerable rise in homophobic legislation and general negative sentiment towards Sydney’s queer subculture, reflected in the dramatic rise in SMH/Star articles publicising police stings in drag shows and brothels that employed trans women. It should be noted that during this period Australia had no substantial gay political activism until 1971.

Going back to the direct political impact of gay bathhouses, it the new gay identity that emerged in the 1960s and 1970s must also be noted, culminating in the formation of CAMP Ink, the vanguard of Sydney’s gay scene through the 70s led by Germaine Greer and Dennis Altman (best known for its 1971 Christmas campaign, refer above). This identity was one defined by pride and openness about one’s own sexuality, and invested in collective direct action towards sexual equality. By providing an unprecedentedly private and safe arena for gay men to meet each other and oftentimes have anonymous, kinky sex, bathhouses meaningfully shaped a different way for these men to understand themselves and others in this burgeoning community.

Bathhouse culture was deeply connected to the rise in gay men “coming out” and being openly gay in the 1970s. Beyond the confines of the home, places like the Kens and King Steam were unique in allowing for gay men to simply be themselves and witness that they were still accepted (and in fact adored by others) when openly queer. Many of the patrons interviewed (mainly for Jason Prior’s dissertation on gay saunas in 1900s Sydney) discuss how these places allowed for this early form of gay pride. Far from the crude environment of the bygone “beat” or even the more brutalist, minimal designs of the Bondi Junction Steam Baths, the plush and ornate venues (refer above) both internationally (the Continental Baths and Club Baths in NYC) and in Sydney (the Roman Baths, No. 253 and King Steam) had fresco and felt fitted features which allowed gay men to feel respectable when frequenting these venues.
These radical spaces for erotic encounters allowed for many of its patrons to not only have private pride in their sexuality by also start to consider whether mainstream society was right about sexual relations at all. A growing opposition to monogamy and other traditional understandings of sex started to take hold in the sauna scene. John Steel recalls, “There was an understanding that one should not hold one’s body back from another, that one should give one’s body freely to others”.
Beyond the implicit impacts of saunas on the formation of the political character of Sydney’s gay community, gay saunas also had a crucial role in providing actual explicit opportunities for organising. Bathhouses, especially Kens’ and the Roman, became sites for regular political meetings and fundraisers, book launches for activist academics like Dennis Altman and subversive cultural events like drag shows and Mr Leather — deeply political given the impact such subcultures had on understandings of gender.

Apart from the social and political, gay saunas had a huge role in direct public health-related action. After the first diagnosis of HIV in an Australian man in 1982, Sydney’s gay community was wracked by paranoia and misinformation about the disease. This paranoia was promptly met by the deliberate escalation of homophobic attitudes in mainstream society by conservative groups and Christian fundamentalists. This homophobia went as far as MP Fred Nile demanding the quarantining of all Australian homosexuals and the Medical Journal of Australia’s June 1983 edition boasting a cover with bold white text screaming: “Depravity kills!”(refer above).
In the midst of this chaos, bathhouses like Kens and King Steam provided resources on AIDS awareness, new medical information on the disease and encouraged safe sex through the provision of condoms. Pamphlets were installed and stocked by the Aids Council of NSW (ACON) to correct common misconceptions like amyl nitrate being the source of HIV/AIDS, and video screens showed continuous-reel safe sex videos in social rooms. In addition, many bathhouses brightened their lights and closed bathhouse darkrooms to improve contract tracing if necessary. Bodyline, in conjunction with an initiative launched by Sydney Sexual Health Centre, provided a room in the sauna that ran a clinic providing patrons with HIV testing, counselling and general medical advice. In ACON’s 1995 Code of Conduct, bathhouses were recognised for their role in public health, providing education, supplies and modifications to prevent the rapid spread of HIV seen in cities like San Francisco and New York.
Following the turn of the millennia and the rise of the internet, bathhouses have certainly become less popular. Research suggests that this is due to the impact of online dating apps such as Grindr/Scruff, growing gay acceptance both legally and socially allowing for gay men to easily meet each other without needing to consult their local Sydney Sauna and the gentrification of the Eastern Suburbs meaning that many of gay bathhouse’s historic working class clients now no longer live nearby.
Nevertheless, bathhouse culture was undoubtedly integral to fostering gay community in Sydney on a variety of levels, from the medicinal to the political to the socio-sexual. Against Sydney’s backdrop of the limited social avenues available for gay men to meet each other in the early to mid-20th century, gay bathhouses provided safe spaces for gay men to connect with each other. They pushed for gay men to become more politically conscious and to advocate for themselves on a collective level and provided a variety of medical services during the AIDS epidemic, which contributed to the community’s survival in such trying times.
***
So yeah, that’s my paper. Overall, I do believe that exploring the world of Sydney saunas unveils something more than just that: namely how history is shaped by not just major events and significant figures but also the everyday experiences of ordinary people. These bathhouses were spaces where individuals sought connection and companionship, where friendships were forged, and where personal journeys of self-discovery unfolded against the backdrop of a rapidly changing society. Thus, by delving into these local histories, we’re provided with a deeper connection to the rich complexities that make up queer history, Australian history and all of its messy overlaps.

Hamish McPherson
How to Seduce the Nonbinary in Your Class
November 9, 2022 5:18 pm Comments Off on How to Seduce the Nonbinary in Your Class

It’s a new semester, you’re taking An Introduction to the Wage Gap in Child Labour, sitting bored in the cramped tutorial room. You didn’t do the reading, and a white man just walked into the room. A tote bag flops onto the table next to you. A hand, covered in rings and chipped nail polish, reaches down past the bubble-gum vape and pulls out a laptop. A laptop covered in stickers, from the Greens to BLM to one that just has a picture of Mitski captioned “I love my wife.” And nestled amongst a feat of signaling that would make Barthes proud, is a blue, white and pink flag. You’ve encountered, for the first time and up-close, a nonbinary person.
To perform a public good for this small, almost pointless-to-write about niche, here is my guide on how to seduce, and sleep with the non-binary person in your class. Take this both in reverence and with an immensely large grain of salt.
Seduction begins, as it always does, by establishing yourself in relation to them. You want to differentiate yourself from the other tote-wearing, oat milk drinking queers who normally swing their way. In seducing your nonbinary target, imagine you are the siren atop the rocks, offering to fix their relationship with their parents.
If you’re wondering, at this point, if the first step is surely to get their pronouns right, I’m sorry, but this isn’t for you.
Start with subtle but smart phrases. Compliment their niche tattoos that either have a paragraph long history or mean fuck all. Even their crustiest stick’n’pokes deserve your adoration (and perhaps later a gentle kiss to the scabbed and flaking ink). Make fun of the straight men in your class. Refer endlessly to the latest TikTok trends or your family traumas and how they led you to reading fanfiction. Make a point to overshare on something sexual, but don’t go too far. Tell them about a fetish, or your most recent hook-up and change the conversation immediately. Be casual and non-confrontational about your repertoire.
The next step in seduction is to convince them that sex with you will not induce a month-long gender crisis requiring two more trips to the therapist. (The formula for a nonbinary person’s therapy attendance per month is 1 + n where n is the number of years they lived at home.) This is probably the most crucial part of the entire process and the key is to highlight your expertise and previous experience in nonbinary forays.
Phrases to use include telling them that everyone else you’ve slept with also wears Docs, or that you liked Keith Haring before he was commercialised. Casually mention how you’re getting into crocheting, and how your pink strap-on is hot pink, not just pink, and that the silicone is ethically sourced and recyclable. Try buying your own carabiner to incite a Pavlovian response from them. Be sure to be seen reading Sylvia Plath with cum or lipstick smudges on some of the pages.
When you move from the sussing out period to the downright flirting stage, there are two strategies. Going high or going low. Going high consists of things like giving them your favourite book to read, bonding over your mutual stupol friends, lending them your overalls, and casually touching hands in the oat milk aisle at the supermarket. Going low is the more sensual avenue, such as making them a playlist, getting your septum pierced, or offering to touch up their shag mullet. Go high for the nonbinaries who were radicalised by Judith Butler and go low for the nonbinaries enlightened by jungle juice.
After you’ve successfully and metaphorically (or literally) put a leash on them comes the more immediate seduction: getting them back to your salt-lamp lit room to do it in a way my parents nor the straggot Peter Dutton could ever begin to imagine.
Inviting them over for tea, for instance, elicits an immediate response, but be sure you’re well stocked with herbal options. Offer to crochet with the more sapphic ones. Or suggest attending an erotic haiku reading at Sideway on a Friday night.
When trying to move things back to their apartment / decolonised sharehouse / the nearest bathroom, someone has to be direct. This is either you or them, and you’ll know who’s who based on who says slay more.
Now, you have them somewhere private, and it’s time to ask for consent. This can start as simply as putting on a Studio Ghibli film, discussing your most toxic ex, or sharing a cigarette.
More complex techniques include studying the number of authors of colour they have on their bookshelf, or, conversely, showing off the diversity of your own. A word of warning though. If your bookshelf is not majority second-hand or Penguin, make sure it is organised aesthetically to distract them from this failing.
If you’ve gotten this far and are wondering at which point to pull out your Lana Del Rey vinyl, stop reading.
At some point here, you’ve sneaked a first kiss and realise that you don’t actually mind the smell of their septum piercing. Assuming you have down pat the rudiments of sex, let’s talk about that holiest of holy words: climax. (No, I thought you were bringing the strap-on).
Crucial here, is the playlist you put on. Unless you’re experienced, or sleeping with them regularly, you need to have some good tunes to make them forget that their mum still mispronouns them. Personal favourites include Simon & Garfunkel’s 1981 live concert in Central Park, or a mix of Mitski/Azaelia Banks/ Hozier.
Good sex, I’ve heard, begins with foreplay. Acknowledgement of country is a good opener, as is listening to their 3-hour interactive lectorial on exactly what kind of nonbinary person they are with a supplementary reading on the infinite iterations of their pronouns or the moments and queer relationships they had through their childhood. Alternatively, if you’re looking to top, try giving head while introducing your stuffed animals.
Phrases like “oh that’s so they/them of you” are a must, and if whispered at just the right moment, can induce orgasm. So too can offering them an ointment for their infected nipple piercing and complementing the boldness of their pubic hair styling. If these fail, fuck them tenderly, so that three weeks later they’ll be convinced that you’re going to cure them of their borderline personality disorder and they’ll cure you of your cisgenderness.
Having followed these steps closely you will find yourself well-endeared to your nonbinary lover, as well as their nonbinary friends, and exes. All of these individuals will be potential candidates for bedding, but proceed with caution as you may find yourself itching for a pronoun change.

Originally published in Woroni Vol. 72 Issue 5 ‘Cum As You Are’
Think your name would look good in print? Woroni is always open for submissions. Email write@woroni.com.au with a pitch or draft. You can find more info on submitting here.

Alexander Lane
Seven Deadly Sins of Gay Dating Apps
October 31, 2022 5:01 pm Comments Off on Seven Deadly Sins of Gay Dating Apps
Disclaimer: this does not detail the experiences of all Queer* people, but rather a commentary of the experiences of the authors.

Lust: hung top looking for sub bottom

Picture this: you’re 17, just come to terms with the fact that maybe you’re not so straight. You’ve heard so much about this great place for gay and bisexual men to meet up and get to know each other. The magical online realm of Grindr. You sign up, upload a cute pic of yourself to get the boys, and get excited. 5 minutes in, you get a message. OMG!? Is this the love of my life? You open the message: dick pic. Oh, well I kinda like dick I guess? Another message: dick pic. Another message: dick pic. Dick pic after dick pic. Your messages are flooded with many, so many dick pics. Is this modern dating for queer men? Sending dick pics till the end of time?
Then you have a blank profile send you a message: “hung top here, looking for sub bottom. You looking?” First off, what is a hung top and a sub bottom? A t-shirt that’s been hung up in a cupboard and the bottom half of a sub sandwich? And looking? Looking for what? Looking for love of course but I get the feeling they’re not talking about that. Another message appears: “53 year old daddy looking for younger.” *insert dick pic here*. This is all so overwhelming, you delete the app after 3 hours and go cry over how you may never find the love of your life.

Gluttony: please stop dating each other

I always forget I live in an echo chamber – that not all friendship groups are queer and chaotic. With inter-dating, constant flirting and mutual matching. On a least ten occasions I have received simultaneous screenshots from two gay friends with eachother’s dating profiles.
“Do you think we’d make a good couple?”
“You think he would be down to fuck, like casual, I know I could but…”
“You know *insert gay friend here* right? We just matched!”

WANTED: GAYS IN CANBERRA!
Don’t get me wrong I’m all for some good old hoeing – but please can more gays come to Canberra? The pool is too small and I’m stuck in hookup deja vu. My life’s complicated enough.

Greed: spicy unicorn wanted for fun loving couple

She’s beautiful, intriguing, social, academic and fashionable – there’s only one problem – she has a boyfriend – and she wants you to join. They all have one thing in common, unicorn emojis 🦄. And let’s be clear these couples are not looking for a polyamorous relationship, they are on the apps specifically for a sexual third, a girl, a unicorn. The obsession of thirds, women setting up dating apps to effectively con queer women into matching with them (and their boyfriends) is beyond frustrating. No I don’t want to sleep with your boyfriend, because surprisingly bisexual people are not walking sex machines who will sleep with anyone and anything. I don’t want to be fetishised into your relationship – there are surely apps for that. Nor do I want to accidentally match with a cute girl, only to be sent messages about her boyfriend’s sexual capabilities.

And it’s always the women who make the profiles, which is confusing in itself as what lesbian woman would want to sleep with you and your BOYfriend? As a bisexual woman (who avoids dating men), having sex with your boyfriend really defeats the purpose of swearing off men.

So leave us queers alone and go find your fetish somewhere else. And give us back the unicorn emoji – it’s cute, and gay.

Sloth: The Ghost of Insta DMs past

*ding*
A Tinder notification appears on your phone.
“You have a new match!”
Oh, here we go. Another match with some random queer person at your university, never to be talked to.
*ding*
“So and so has sent you a message*
Okay this is crazy. You’re actually messaging, and the conversation is… good? This feels wrong, something has to be up. You decide to move the conversation to Instagram… are they the one? Have I finally met the person I’m going to date?

You continue the conversation, send each other photos, tell each other “you’re so cute” while drunk on a night out. Things are going well.

Then, it stops. You barely talk anymore. Send two-word responses to questions. Don’t even swipe up on each other’s stories anymore. Then you start blanking each other on the street and on campus. Now you have to redownload Tinder and start the cycle again. This is so exhausting. The ghost has struck again.

Wrath: “We’ve run out of potential matches in your area”

“We’ve run out of potential matches in your area. Go global and see people around the world.”

Fuck. Off. I only swiped like 5 times, how have I run out of matches already?? Why are there literally no gays in Canberra?

I guess I’ll have to go back to Grindr…

Envy: To be or to be with?

The age-old question of same-sex dating – do I want to be with them? Or do I want to be them? Is there a reason I’m attracted to people who are just different fonts of me? Am I secretly harbouring a deeper desire to become them, to embody their life, to be a better version of me (which through my screen they somehow appear to be)?

Honestly I have no idea – maybe it’s just that we’re attracted to people with similar interests to us, similar life goals and values – and in a queer relationship, your identity becomes mixed with theirs. So how do you even attempt to navigate the treachery of being simultaneously attracted to and identifying with your partner?

If anyone figures this out please DM me – seriously.
Love,
Confused gay

Pride: Our bodies are our selling point

Twink. Otter. Bear. Wolf. Daddy. For those who do not know, these are terms used to characterise us… based on how much hair/muscles you have. We are literally divided into “tribes” entirely based on how we look. But more than that, those who are white twinks (skinny, petite, hairless) get most of the attention. We also have to post basically naked pictures on any app to get any attention at all. Sooooo in summary, the community looks at your body and then, only then will we get to know each other if we like how the other looks. So great. So healthy. How do we fix this? Actually dunno. Oops sorry.

Originally published in Woroni Vol. 72 Issue 5 ‘Cum As You Are’
Think your name would look good in print? Woroni is always open for submissions. Email write@woroni.com.au with a pitch or draft. You can find more info on submitting here.

Indy Shead
Being Queer* is Not a Laughing Matter: A Review of UniLodge’s Spamalot
November 17, 2019 9:00 am Comments Off on Being Queer* is Not a Laughing Matter: A Review of UniLodge’s Spamalot
CONTENT WARNING: Homophobia, Queer*phobia

This year’s UniLodge Musical was Monty Python’s Spamalot. Running from October 10 to 13 , Spamalot was the second musical staged by UniLodge@ANU following the 2018 production of 9 to 5. Spamalot is a surrealist comedy, which often humorously breaks the fourth wall. The plot revolves around King Arthur and his noble quest to retrieve the Holy Grail with his four knights Sir Lancelot, Sir Robin, Sir Bedevere and Sir Galahad. The journey takes them through ‘expensive’ forests, to a flashy Vegas-style Camelot, French castles, and across the globe. With a cast of wacky characters and a ridiculous plot, it’s often funny. It’s when it isn’t funny that the production has serious problems.
As a disclaimer, I would like to congratulate everyone involved in the production. I had a role in UniLodge’s 2018 musical 9 to 5, and I know how stressful and demanding the entire process is. As an audience member, it was great to see so many of my friends up on stage performing their hearts out. However, in this review, I want to focus on the context of Spamalot and why it was a problematic choice for the 2019 UniLodge musical.
Monty Python’s Spamalot is a 2005 musical adapted from the 1975 film Monty Python and the Holy Grail. 2019 is a different time from 2005, and 2005 was a very different time from 1975. When the film was initially released, gay rights were still a very new concept to the mainstream media. It was not uncommon for the media to discredit these efforts made by the LGBTQ+ community. This is the case in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The only gay character is Herbert, who is depicted as a sickly, feminine man and is referred to as a ‘creep’. He is also used as the punchline to a joke. Sir Lancelot, described as “fearless to a bloody fault”, slaughters his way through the Swamp Castle in the hope of finding a princess at the top of the Tall Tower. The joke is that the princess is actually Herbert.
This is slightly adapted in the 2005 musical. Lancelot makes his way up the tower and feels an inexplicable sympathy for Prince Herbert, defending him against his aggressive father. An argument culminates in Herbert’s father calling Lancelot gay, which triggers ‘His Name Is Lancelot’, a campy song which conforms to stereotypical gay archetypes. Lancelot suddenly realises that he is ‘gaYMCA’ after having been a blood-thirsty brute for the entire play.
The issue in both situations is that gay people are the butt of the joke.
In the 1975 film, Herbert is a ‘creep’. His face is sagging, he has a high-pitched voice and is extremely feminine. He is obviously depicted in a negative manner and is very clearly gay. Upon discovering that Herbert is gay, Lancelot makes every effort to flee the scene. In the 2005 musical, Lancelot’s character turns from ‘homicidally brave’ into ‘obviously gay’. His realisation that he is gay is played as a joke. The contrast between the murderous Lancelot and the ‘gaYMCA’ Lancelot generates laughter. Herbert remains the same frail, pathetic character.
Situating gay people as the butt of these jokes perpetuates harmful public perceptions of queer* people. These jokes invite audience members to make the same remarks, often without regard to whom they are addressing. Directly after his coming out scene, Lancelot is mockingly referred to as a ‘fairy’, an old slur for gay men. Such ridicule is most prominent at the end of the musical. The relationship between Lancelot and Herbert is depicted as a joke, and so is their wedding. As they walk down the aisle together, the audience laugh as they lovingly embrace each other. As someone who hopes to walk my husband down the aisle, I felt embarrassed and attacked.
Sitting in the front row surrounded by an audience laughing at a scene that should have been celebrated, I was overcome by strong emotions. I felt embarrassed, as I experienced a shame about being gay that I hadn’t felt since I was in the closet. I felt threatened, as I saw something so critical to who I am being mocked on stage. I felt sadness, as I also became the butt of a joke. Mostly, I felt confusion. I have been a proud Lodge Viper since 2018. I poured a lot into the community at Lodge. I contributed to the Residents’ Committee as a social representative, I was a senior resident and volunteered at every event I could. And yet, here I was at the end of the year being forced to witness dated, harmful gay stereotypes.
And now, I feel disappointed. The UniLodge Musical is chosen by the Residential Life Manager, a role similar to a Head of Hall. Residents have no input on how it is chosen, but are expected to direct, act in and organise the production. I am disappointed that the Residential Life Manager thought that an obviously harmful play was okay to put on. I am disappointed that next year, he will be promoted to the Brisbane Head Office. Most of all, I am disappointed that there will likely be no reprimand or apology. Instead, Spamalot will be a footnote in history for most people. But for queer* people like me, the memory will remain as one of the many times that we’ve been the butt of some sad, archaic joke. I wonder how many times this will occur. I wonder how often we will have to write about it before authority figures consider their actions before they harm the people they supposedly care for.

Niam Foxcroft
The Blood of the Covenant is Thicker than the Water of the Womb
July 24, 2019 3:51 pm Comments Off on The Blood of the Covenant is Thicker than the Water of the Womb
CW: Queerphobia
The month of June has ended, and we weep the fall of the endless rainbows, glitter showers, proud folk, and corporations jumping on a trend to exploit a group of marketable consumers. The month of July has inevitably rolled around, dubbed ‘Pride Wrath Month’ by many a Tumblr user. This month signals not only the break between semesters, and both the relief of the end of exams and the gruelling hours of part-time work, but the return of many proud people to their families. Families that, in some cases, don’t and maybe never will know the truth about the pride that lies in their children’s hearts.
Humans are a tricky species. We’re pack animals at our core, and we’re obsessed with fitting in and being fit to fit in. We mock outsiders, and treat those that are different with distrust and suspicion. Thus, within a society that has standardised the heterosexual nuclear family, the reveal of LGQBT+ members to an presumably straight family causes this normative entity to shatter. This is particularly jarring on the sad occasion that this unit is unwilling to evolve and accept that normality, aside from being a ridiculous concept, is also a flexible one.
Though many would spout that ‘blood is thicker than water’ and would preach that the family you were born into is your family for life, these individuals have ignored the true meaning of this twisted analogy. The original line, ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,’ was intended to signify that the family you choose will be the family that stays with you forever, and that shared experience will bond people faster and more firmly than simple genetics. Giving birth or raising a child does not guarantee unconditional love, though Hollywood would have you believe otherwise in many of their heteronormative sensationalist films. Similarly, it does not always guarantee you happiness.

The breaking or frayed ties of a split or splitting family will leave the sharpest wounds, but it is in this season of wrath that we must understand that the blood that ties you to your chosen family will lift you up when you need it most. This year there will still be those who have walked home removing pride stickers, flags, rainbows, makeup, and suspenders so as to avoid scrutiny from those who will never be fully removed from their lives. To you, I say that those friends, teachers, acquaintances, strangers, idols, and inspirations that marched beside you this June (whether in the comfort of your own home or loud and proud out in the streets) will remain with you through this homecoming, and maybe even for the rest of your life.

Rowan Everard
I am what I am. So, take me as I am
September 29, 2018 10:52 pm Comments Off on I am what I am. So, take me as I am
On 6 September, Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code was unanimously struck down by the Supreme Court of India, with the Chief Justice of India citing German thinker Goethe, “I am what I am. So, take me as I am. No one can escape from their individuality”. The law in question was the ban on consensual gay sex, a draconian, out of date one at that, posing as an obtrusive reminder of the country’s colonial past. The judges of the court did not stop at decriminalizing gay sex. They went a step further to ensure that the rights of gay Indians be protected by the legal constitution.
When it comes to changing such laws, many countries have a bottom-up approach where the changed mindsets and views of people force the law to change however this was not the case with India. In a country rife with conservative religious politics and a constricted society, changing mindsets of the huge population of common people is extremely difficult. The law has certainly changed but the attitudes the public has towards the gay community still remain intact. Countless members of the LGBTIQ community have been shunned and abandoned by the families for embracing what they consider an alternative lifestyle, not in line with their cultural values. The popular majoritarian view would generally lean against the decriminalization of gay sex however as one of the justices said, “Majoritarian views and popular morality cannot dictate constitutional minority rights”.
Interestingly, 80% of India’s population practices forms of Hinduism. Hinduism, unlike the Abrahamic religions, which mostly make up the rest of the population, has never explicitly considered homosexuality a sin. Old temple carvings such as the erotic sculptures of the Khajuraho depict a celebration of the raw human form and the representation of both men and women engaging in homosexual acts. Mythical narratives have often expressed and acknowledged gender variance and same-sex relations. The transgender community, in particular, has great spiritual and cultural importance in the Indian society where they are often revered yet feared. Even the idea of a third gender is also a strong, ancient concept with religious roots as well. Sexuality and particularly homosexuality is however very rarely discussed in contemporary Hindu society, largely since it was colonized by the British and had Victorian austerity imposed upon it. This transformed the culture of tolerance for homosexuality within the country. Some Hindu nationalist groups in the country are outspoken about their distaste for homosexuality whereas others prefer to remain silent on it. India’s leading politicians have also largely stayed out of the debate.
While many agree that legalizing same-sex marriage is still a long way off, this was an unprecedented, historic ruling. With the trend towards increased conservatism dictated by Hindu nationalist groups in the country, the abolishment of Section 377 was definitely not expected by many, even though people have been fighting for this for years. For the court to strike the law down, pronouncing it as “irrational, indefensible and manifestly arbitrary” is a massive win for the LGBTIQ community.
This win has already set the ball rolling for other countries in the region. Singapore, for instance, one of the most developed countries in the world has held onto this law since British colonization. There has been a rise in an actual concrete debate with the government conducting a referendum and petitions being signed to review the law. LGBTIQ rights still have a long way to go in terms of public acceptance and actualization of the law, but only time can tell how this victory transforms the future of not only India but other Asian countries in the region as well.

Riddhi Mehta
Sole Sobriety
September 24, 2018 1:22 pm Comments Off on Sole Sobriety
After weeks of circling between sober and hungover, trying to figure out what went wrong between Trevor and him, Jared finally threw the idea of “Karma” into the dustbin. He cleared away all the mess of the apartment, as well as the mess of himself, and spent nearly half of the credits he had earned in this town. He used them to buy a ticket to the Temple of Sacrifice, to put an end mark on his 23 years of virginity and isolation.
‘It’s about time,’ he said and confirmed the payment on his smartwatch.
Just like those two singing sisters in “Frozen”, the gates of fate were opened by guardians. For him. “For the first time in forever.” And contrary to what he had originally thought, this place looked more like the castle from Beauty and the Beast, run-down on the outside, but still spectacular and elegant on the inside, rather than like a random underground kinky SM Hotel. He walked through a place called the Gallery of Sex, where dozens of oil paintings bloomed in their own unique form. They showed cavemen having intercourse with cavewomen beneath a multitude of shining stars, a muscular teenage boy “shooting off the plane”(meaning “boy masturbation” in Chinese slang) in front of the MacBook 2077, male turtles enjoying the eternal bachelor days at the seashore, and TV industry workers shooting their orgy in Sense 8 for the eighth time. Every piece suggested the grand harmony of life itself.
‘Please select your preference, Sir,’ said the Al Butler.
He had waited for him at the terminal of the gallery for a long time. Jared looked around and saw four exquisite doors. They were sapphire, gold, crystal, and white jade to mean straight, gay, bisexual and lesbian.
‘What if I were asexual, Mr Carson?’
He had asked a smart question, or so he thought.
‘Then I guess you wouldn’t have to be here, Sir,’ the butler replied gently. ‘Besides, everybody has a desire for something – truth, love, fame, anything you can imagine.’
Then the butler opened the golden door for him without knowing his so-called “choice.” Four doors and four colours. The gold one was decorated with the sword of Gryffindor from Harry Potter, the skyscrapers from The Great Gatsby, the battle scenes of the Greek god Apollo and the roses of Highgarden from Game of Thrones. He wondered what kind of surprise was behind these cheesy symbols of male reproductive organs. Seconds later, a mixed feeling of satisfaction and loneliness arose within him. The Hall behind it was neither a boring pub nor a hideous wedding banquet. Instead, it was a library without the archmaester. Billions of books were quietly stored on shelves that reached the top of the sky. Young footmen were quietly sweeping the dust, stone plus the kindle, fire dancing with blood. This image had gone beyond all of the trashy VR games Jared had ever played.
‘This is brilliant,’ he said.
There’s a golden rule from Asian Yaoi Culture:
Since the dawn of time, a blonde boy and a black-haired boy have always been the perfect match.
Through thousands of readers, he finally found that perfect guy: short blonde hair, green eyes, barely taller than him, fit and cute. The lad was reading Jared’s favourite book at the corner of the tables: A Song of Ice and Fire: A Clash with Kings.
‘Valar Morghulis.’ Jared greeted him in the old-fashioned way that the characters in the book did.
‘Valar Dohaeris,’ the boy replied with a gorgeous grin. He continued to read the chapter of his one true king: Renly Baratheon with his Knights of the Rainbow.
‘Why do you like Renly?’ Jared said.
‘For his equality, my lord. Nothing comes without a cost.’
That was absolutely true. A straight friend had once asked Jared a similar question. He had replied to Jared, ‘equality and freedom had never been given by the majority who already owned them. They require courage, struggles or even blood. Sometimes, it’s not a bad thing to be too progressive.’
He followed the green light. The boy grabbed his hand and went into an inner room with a lonely sofa. Guided by the green eyes, at last, he was able to kiss this Mr. Right.
While there was only a short distance between their lips, the image was now suddenly frozen, all the lights up. The boy vanished into steam. The room it turned out not to be a bedroom at all. There were dozens of real humans sitting individually, reading something. One guy looked at Jared with a little sympathy.
‘Quite shocking, right? They’re all robots. And we are all the servants now, from this day, until our last day. Do I like you? No. Do I wanna sleep with you? That’s beside the point. Even if you’re as extremely fabulous as Milo Yiannopoulos, super-Republican, freaking intelligent, no one will lift a finger. We are all trapped in this lounge permanently unless someone who truly likes us saves us from this goddamn chaos. After all, “these violent delights have violent ends.”’ And then, this jock returned to read his alt-right newspapers.
Jared thought he was about to spend the rest of his life and die alone in this temple. However, he had always believed that there was a silver lining behind the oncoming storm. He walked to the windows and closed his eyes. He imagined what it felt like to be free, to dance with a better guy; not with the perfect fabricated guy, but with the ones who could dream.
Wait a second, he thought, who is that dowdy man out there standing across the street staring at me beneath the rain?
And there he was. That guy who was taller than him by 30 centimetres, the sole love of his bright, short life. Trevor.
Both boys smiled.

Haoyi Jason Zou