Overlooked by the NZ cultural sector, Queer people document themselves

Thanks to their own efforts, LGBTQIA+ folks’ histories aren’t hidden any more, reports

Gareth Watkins was shopping with his husband recently when a stranger yelled a homophobic slur while gesturing towards them.

‘‘It struck me that people still hate us,’’ Watkins, Te Papa’s collections data manager, says over Zoom. ‘‘That’s why it’s so important for us to document our own lives. Although the action was incredibly shocking, it galvanises our resolve to be present.’’

Watkins uses his spare time to curate the PrideNZ website – a historical online repository that explores the voices and opinions of Aotearoa’s rainbow communities through an archive of more than 800 audio recordings of interviews with queer people.

As well as dedicated sections on HIV/Aids, homosexual law reform, marriage equality, Pride and Carmen Rupe, the site hosts an extensive rainbow timeline. It links to more than 18,000 articles published by GayNZ.com.

PrideNZ.com has been selected for digital preservation by the United States’ Library of Congress web archive, which guards what it considers internationally significant, at-risk digital content. While Watkins was surprised, what struck him most was the recognition from an overseas authority.

He says it’s ‘‘perhaps, sadly telling’’ that the first time any collecting institution approached PrideNZ about archiving its content was from outside Aotearoa.

‘‘... We’ve been able to collectively capture thousands of voices ... of people who existed before 2009. Where are they represented in institutional collections?’’

Over the past two decades rainbow media have flourished, largely due to queer communities taking responsibility to document their own stories and lives. Watkins says that’s a result of cultural institutions including galleries, archives and museums failing to adequately record and share queer experiences. It’s also why he dedicates his own time to PrideNZ.

Things are slowly changing – he sees this at his own workplace at Te Papa. Last year, the museum dedicated a section of its website to rainbow history. Archives NZ also has an online area for records dedicated to the rainbow community. But much of Archives’ records are from a time when Aotearoa talked about and treated queer people very differently.

‘‘Whether they’re still out there, been gathered or gone, it highlights to me that all those voices and experiences were always there, but they’ve been ignored,’’ Watkins says.

The National Library’s associate chief librarian for research collections, Jessica Moran, says

it’s been archiving PrideNZ.com since 2011, as part of the Alexander Turnbull Library’s select web archiving programme. Lgislation allows the library to make copies of websites without seeking permission, so since 2006 it has been building a web archive collection.

‘‘It’s one of the many community groups that have always been identified as a high-priority selection area for the web archivists in terms of a desire to develop a born digital web archive collection that reflects the ethnic and cultural diversity of Aotearoa,’’ Moran says. ‘‘We recognise the value of the PrideNZ collection to the queer community and its significance as part of New Zealand history.’’

The National Library also has a queer history guide and communities on its website, which features how tirelessly its members advocate for positive change, she says.

The guide includes photographs and newspapers from the mid-19th century, and more modern resources. Much of it can be found in the Lesbian and Gay Archives of New Zealand (LAGANZ) in the Alexander Turnbull Library.

LAGANZ’s collection is owned and managed by a community trust. Roger Swanson, who helps run the trust, knows the struggle of preserving queer histories. It was forced to rehome itself in the Turnbull Library after a hatefuelled arson attack on its previous Wellington premises.

The cultural sector is experiencing similar reckonings with indigenous and other minority communities. Funding remains a major issue and explains some of the collection gap. An archive has to be sustained in perpetuity, needing resources to go on forever. Keeping material alive is also hard

work – think hours of transcribing audio recordings – and costly.

Watkins would love to see increased partnerships between the PrideNZ site and larger institutions. Part of the site’s mission is encouraging rainbow Kiwis to document their lives, creating a pathway for future generations to hear who queer people were, how they spoke and what their dreams and aspirations were.

The editor of New Zealand’s national LGBTQIA+ publication

‘‘People still hate us. That’s why it’s so important . . . to document our own lives.’’ Gareth Watkins PrideNZ website curator

express magazine and gayexpress. co.nz, Oliver Hall, says since its beginnings in 1991 as Man2Man, it’s covered queer events.

Its archives include news stories, interviews, opinion pieces and photography that document its evolving communities and their diverse perspectives as they gain greater rights and mainstream acceptance, Hall says. ‘‘We have seen a major increase in demand for both our monthly print magazine, and significant upward trend in unique visitors to our website.’’

Hall remembers when it was only available at rainbow venues or paid for in newsagents. Now it’s freely distributed in supermarkets. Readership has diversified, with straight allies increasing. Its back catalogue is kept in the National Archives, and has been featured in exhibitions at Auckland Museum and the National Library.

Wellington’s NZ Portrait Gallery Te Pu¯ kenga Whakaata director Brian Wood says the stories of gender-diverse individuals in particular ‘‘have not always been prominent’’ at cultural institutions. However, he says the gallery has always pushed the boundaries of what portraiture could be.

‘‘By using a model of engaging with guest curators with oversight from the director, we are able to engage with and embrace curators at all career stages and from multiple perspectives which brings diversity to the gallery and also new audiences and connections.’’

In 2019 it exhibited Poutokomanawa: The Carmen Rupe Generation with portraits and stories of transgender women of Rupe’s generation. Now Ma¯ori artist and teacher Gina Matchitt has curated an exhibition, Autonomous Bodies.

Matchitt looked to other collections to borrow pieces for the exhibition. ‘‘It’s about all those ideas – how women have been represented in art [history], but now how women, transgender and non-binary people can represent themselves.’’

Jo Bragg, a non-binary artist whose work is part of the exhibition, has made art that explores queer visibility, and how queer histories are often hidden or generational. Bragg created an archive of themselves, then deleted much of the content in a reference to those fleeting moments.

‘‘How many people get to pick archives? Predominantly, they’re selected by white men . . . This isn’t beginning the conversation by any means, but it’s continuing it.’’

Meanwhile, Adam Rohe, an actor, clown and theatre director who came out as transgender in his last year of acting school, has been working with film-maker Ben Sarten to document his life and transition. They are collaborating with director Neenah DekkersReihana and Wellington’s BATS Theatre to bring it to the stage.

Rohe began the projects after seeing the abundance of cis-normative narratives, and trans actors only being cast for stereotypical roles. The works follow Rohe as he navigates surgeries, psychosis, dysphoria, doctor’s appointments, day-to-day life and relationships.

‘‘Hopefully watching someone else go through that helps people find permission with themselves.’’

Alesha Ahdar, a takata¯ pui creative in Wellington, wrote and directed the short film He Takata¯ pui Ahau, which explores the role of gender in marae. Eighty per cent of the cast and crew identified as Ma¯ori, takata¯pui or LGBTQIA+. The film was also made with an indigenous approach, which attempts to make a space that honours wairua and tikanga. It follows a non-binary person as they decide to go back to their tu¯ rangawaewae, despite uncertainty they’ll be accepted for who they are.

Ahdar say having a by-takata¯pui-for-takata¯pui film was a relief in that crew did not have to explain themselves.

They say rainbow communities are hungry for content that goes beyond the diversity quota, but they don’t think that mindset has yet made it upwards to executives in arts and culture. ‘‘They’re still in the process of learning there is an audience.’’