Pride Line vox pops, file 7

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Prideline_2023-09-06_1746.mp3

00:02:25.404

2023-09-06

So I guess I'm supposed to share my story. That's the point of this, right? So I'm 16. I'm a lesbian. I don't know, I've had like, different experiences, I don't know, of questioning my sexuality, but I think I've always sort of known somehow. Like, it's always sort of been there.

I remember I used to walk around and follow this girl who I was friends with and I had, like, give her flowers, and I just thought that every other girl felt that way. And then I was like, at one point it just clicked in my brain. I was like, not everyone feels that way, you know? And I sort of knew I was like, different. And I guess I had a primary school girlfriend while I held her hand in the playground, that sort of thing. But I don't know.

I always felt, I don't know, strange compared to other girls. They're all girly or as I like to do, I guess boy activities or whatever they're called. But I always wanted to be something that other girls didn't, you know like, do things that boys were expected to do in those traditional gender roles. And then that was sort of pushed off of me, I guess you could say, you know, by certain people. They'd say, like you know, you don't wear much pink or anything, like you don't wear girl clothes And I'd be like, I don't know, confused. I'd be like, what do you mean? They're just clothes and yeah.

I don't really know what else I'm supposed to say, but I just think it's cool to be a part of this collection. You can contact me if you want. That'd be a bit weird. I don't know if I'm not allowed to do this because I'm a minor or whatever. But maybe in five years time when I've got an acting gig or released music or something and I'm more well known, maybe this will be become cool or something, but I don't know. Maybe that sounds like cringey in five years or something. But yeah, that's all I'm going to say for now and goodbye I suppose. Question mark.

Prideline_2023-09-06_1924.mp3

00:02:08.556

2023-09-06

Hi, so first of all, I kind of want to disclose that I kind of don't want to be contacted. OK, so here is the start of my little story. Hi, I am currently a teenager and I'm, it's been a long road to get to where I am today. I first came out to myself is in the middle of COVID, actually. I was 12 and I realised that I had always liked girls. I just didn't really realise that they were actual romantic feelings for them. Or like, more than that, maybe.

And then after I came out as pan a year later, I came out as a lesbian. And that was quite life changing because I always had this narrative in my head that I was going to grow up, meet a prince, settle down, blah blah, blah. you know, that had a receptual dream. But I think, there's other dreams that are out there. I think it's really beautiful to know that there are other possibilities.

When I was a kid, we didn't really, it wasn't really visible, definitely not where I live. And being a POC, you never really saw any other, you never saw much representation anyway, let alone someone who was both a POC and queer. But now there is representation. I just wanted to let the world know that representation is like the most important thing for kids growing up.

And I think just letting yourself out into the world is the best thing you can ever do. And just be proud of who you are and just showcase yourself and don't try to hide, even if the world tells you to. Because you shouldn't have to hide who you are and you should be able to shine and you should know that. Love you. Bye, bye.

Prideline_2023-09-06_2236.mp3

00:01:57.864

2023-09-06

To whoever is listening, my name is Rose and I use she/they pronouns. I came out as a lesbian when I was 13 years old. I'm now 16. I was so lucky to have such an amazingly supportive family who were there for me no matter what. I'm just so grateful for them. Unfortunately, I've not found as much kindness at my private Christian School.

I don't think people fully understand how much it hurt being told by your teachers and pastors, people you look up to, that your mere existence is a sin. Hearing my sexuality being mocked and ridiculed by some of my peers has been heartbreaking. But watching my teachers know that they make these comments and they're not taking action is even worse. Why should your religion justify hatred? If something doesn't affect you, should you really be so concerned over it? How does my queerness affect you? Preach love.

An important thing for me as a queer person is seeing queer adults. LGBTQ young people are four times as likely to commit suicide compared to their peers. It's so important that in this time, where hate and ignorance is plastered all over the news, to see that there is a future for us, that we have a place in this world.

Being able to see queer representation in the media is extremely important as well. Another important thing is to be able to have community support. I have a strong love for theatre. My local theatre group has been an amazing place to go and be loved and accepted for who I am. I also attend a youth group for LGBTQ people where I've been shown nothing but kindness.

If I could say one thing to you, it would be love. Love your children. Love them unconditionally. My parents unending support is what got me through some of my most difficult times. Love your kids, no matter what their sexuality or gender may be. Love your love your friends. Love your classmates. Love your neighbours. Kindness and acceptance can make such a difference in someone's life. Thank you.

Prideline_2023-09-06_2325.mp3

00:01:09.084

2023-09-06

Hi, I'm Jen. I'm a queer woman of colour and I'm a registered psychologist. And I'm Eleanor, identify as a lesbian woman and have European background. I'm currently a practicing practicing pharmacist in Sydney. Jen and I are both in our late 20s.

So we've been in a loving relationship for almost three years now and we recently came back from a big holiday in Europe which was so much fun and we got to experience London Pride while we were there. We someday hope to get married and have children. Also pretty fortunate to have supportive families. We know there's still a long way to go, and many people in Australia are so quite conservative at the moment.

We're still not comfortable walking around Sydney holding hands or kissing in public, as we've often been yelled at, cat called and stared for doing this before. So yeah, we hope that things in the future will change, and that society in general will be more accepting of the LGBTQIA+ community. Lots of love Elle and Jen. Feel free to contact us if you like about this. Bye.

Prideline_2023-09-07_1046.mp3

00:01:02.136

2023-09-07

My partner and I met through university. I'd just come back from exchange in Brazil and I was looking to meet the new Brazilian exchange students that had come here to Australia in Melbourne at Monash University. And yeah, we met at a bar night.

I thought she was super cute. And then we got each other on Facebook and I saw that she was going to Thursday at Yayas and I was like, that's a queer event, right? And she's like, I'm a lesbian. I was like, cool me too. Which she thought was a funny reaction that we still talk about today, 6 1/2 years later.

We had to do long distance when she finished her last finished her last year at university in Brazil, which was really hard, but now she's here and she's becoming an Australian citizen this month. So yeah, it's really awesome and I love her so much. Thanks.

Prideline_2023-09-08_1338.mp3

00:01:01.272

2023-09-08

Growing up trans in a conservative household has been difficult and I have struggled all my life just accepting myself and being me. But I have hope for the future now, and I'm actually happy at where I am. And as a young adult, I think finally I can just be myself, be who I am without restrictions on the people around me. I hope that all young Australians who have struggled and do struggle in the same area can really find peace and grow up to be happy queer adults.

Prideline_2023-09-08_1540.mp3

00:05:01.140

2023-09-08

Hi, my name is Holly Dodwell and I wanted to call because this kind of feels important. I am. I'm 23, I'm a high school teacher and identify as a cis-lesbian woman. It's pretty vanilla, but my story is like, kind of sad. So being queer so far hasn't really brought that much joy. And I hope that by talking about it I can like, be a part of a history that I hope will no longer exist in the way that it's existed for me.

What happened, I hope I don't run out of time, but what happened was I grew up really religious and I married my best friend since high school when I was freshly 22. I didn't realize what love could be, and the love that we shared, like, just felt as good as any. He absolutely meant the world to me, which is why it was so confusing and devastating when I realized that I was gay after we had the chance to become more physically intimate with each other, which you can, you know, see religion for why it took so long.

I thought that I was, like, broken, or that I was asexual. And I didn't realize that I was actually queer until I met a woman at work who gave me a joy and a passion and a meaning in life that I would never hope to expect. And it caught me completely off guard. I found what it was like to want to be close to someone, the joy of physical and emotional intimacy and the fire and passion that I didn't know could ever exist.

My husband didn't understand any of this either and it became deeply traumatic for both of us as he implored me to stay [inaudible] him, when deep down I knew that really wasn't an option. If I ever wanted to experience any form of love in the fullest way that I could. I was made to feel sinful and wrong and deviant by my parents and friends and [inaudible] me when they found out.

I dreamed of running away with this girl to Melbourne or anywhere. But she was in the worst situation to me, actually. She came from a Middle Eastern background and when her parents found out about our secret relationship, they threatened to kick her out and excommunicate her from her family and her culture, which absolutely meant everything to her.

So the guilt was just so immense on her part. But we still tried to maintain some secrecy while our worlds we're both burning at once. And you know, because at least we had each other. Exactly a year ago today actually, was the day I left my husband in the middle of the night, after he woke me up screaming at me and we had this huge fight. Like I just, I vowed to rebuild my life healthier.

So I left and I quit my job, so that her and I could also be involved in something healthier where we weren't really retraumatizing each other every day and needing each other stay afloat. Like I wanted to be my own person. I moved in with my parents. I left the church and the community that raised me. Her life remained the same, though, and before long we kind of broke up for good because she valued her family more than anything, which is so fair. But we also realized we couldn't be healthy and be in each other's lives.

She was everything to me. She was my Milky Way and she was all of its constellations. The constellation Orion actually was one we pointed out to each other and we used to wish on every star and pray fervently at 11:11 each day. You know, the ordained time to make a wish that we could be together. I even used to set an alarm for 11:10 so I would never forget, and I would take every chance I could to implore God, the stars, anything that would come, so that I could take care of her and we could take care of each other.

So now instead, I turn my phone off when I see that time approaching. I can't bear it. There's no happiness I feel I desire with anyone if she's not a part of it. It's easy to be angry and blame being gay for the pain I feel, though. It made me unlovable and a disappointment. If I was straight, I'd be married and joyful and live the life I always dreamed for myself. I wouldn't have to compromise on everything that I felt was important, and I wouldn't have compulsive ticks and twitches from the trauma that I went through.

But I guess it took that illusion shattering to realize that there's more to life than that. And even if it looked great on paper, being queer is who I am, and it's something that I could never be anything else, you know? If I wanted to be happy, I have to find joy and healing, and there's more to life than just looking great on paper.

I've begun to find meaning and acceptance away from the things I want, or I needed, which unfortunately looks like it's without her. I can't wait to see Pride month as something to celebrate, because right now it's a time of mourning. I'm sick of mourning it. I, like, the things that can't be, I really, this is something I want and I want to live this life. I hope to speak of all the happiness and meaning that I found if this recording's ever found and looked back on. But I can't do that yet.

All I wanted to be loved for who I actually am. And I think that's all anyone want. But not in the dark and not only by certain people. I want to be loved and love others without those kind of restrictions, whether it's culture or religion or society or parents or anything. Anyway, Happy Pride Week anniversary. Thank you so much for listening to me share this and I hope you have a really great day. See ya.

Prideline_2023-09-08_1838.mp3

00:02:59.892

2023-09-08

I said I was going to do one of these, but I don't know what to say now. I guess, OK, I don't want to be contacted about this, but I just wanna do it just to know that this will be in a collection and collected and then it will kind of be permanent. But, I guess I wanted to do this because I just like, I don't know. I'm just talking on the phone. Why am I nervous?

I wanted to do this because I recently I've just, I've found a lot of community around me and a lot of the time it always feels like I'm only finding community and people like me through my phone. And for the first time, there's a lot of people like me and around me, and I mean like me in the sense queer people. And I guess I don't really embrace that part of myself a lot.

And just finding these people around me is just such a comfort and I don't know if they know how much they mean to me. But, and I guess, I just wanted to say this out loud because I'm not really said it out loud. But I like girls and I am a girl, and I am here and I am alive and there are other people around me who are girls who like girls. And I'm just so happy that these people exist and that I get to know him and I get to see them at school every day. And it's really just such a comfort.

And that's why I wanted to call the Pride Line, because I've wanted that to be out there and out, I suppose. Because it just shows like you can have community online and you can see gatherings and the marches and the events and organizing things online. You can see that there's a screen, you can see articles, you can see posts about that, but it's almost, it doesn't like, it's its own thing.

But it doesn't compare to having friends and people around you who have different experiences, but experiences like yours. And just the importance of that, I guess. And OK And I'm also going to say that my name is Leila, but I'm not going to say anything else. And yeah. So that's why I wanted to call the Pride Line. I don't know. That's why I wanted to call it. So, I just wanted to get that out there. So, thanks.

Prideline_2023-09-26_1525.mp3

00:01:31.116

2023-09-26

So for a lot of my life I have known that I've been queer, but I've struggled to identify with the label lesbians but feeling a strong connection to it. I'm currently in a lesbian relationship with someone who identifies as a lesbian, and through our journey together I am finding more and more relation to the term lesbian, to the lesbian community and to lesbian culture.

I find it empowering to be able to identify with something so rich in history and in culture and to see my lesbian relationship finding resonance with so many other women and people throughout time. I'm starting to really enjoy talking about my girlfriend and about my lesbian relationship. I feel when I utter the phrase my girlfriend. I'm speaking through all of the people in history who could not say the phrase for fear of danger or harm.

I want to say my girlfriend for every person who had to call someone their friend or their roommates. My girlfriend. My girlfriend. My girlfriend. So my name is Zara and I'm a lesbian who loves my girlfriend very much. I feel the love of all the lesbians before me coming through my voice when I say that, and I love all of them too. This is my Pride story and I'm so thankful that it is one I can share and speak about openly. Thank you.

Prideline_2023-09-28_1450.mp3

00:01:00.588

2023-09-28

All the queers in the village roll their eyes at the pillage. You, Sir, kisses me. Let the light from the cage that those girls can be saved from your sacrificial way. Still, you throw some in the water, let your shocks upon our daughters. And we still feel terrified. Have you seen what they see online? So we hold each other close. We are the ones who need it most.

Prideline_2023-10-01_1354.mp3

00:00:23.400

2023-10-01

Hi, my name's Amelia. I'm gay and I came out with my parents when I was 12 years old. My mum was like, no, you're not. And I was like, yes I am. And yeah, it just went on from there. Thank you

Prideline_2023-09-30_2247.mp3

00:10:00.084

2023-09-30

Wow. Where to start thinking about Pride? And I guess the space between not knowing and knowing now. And I guess learning and unlearning. My name is Kate. I was born on a Warwick Hall country in 1995. I was presumed female at birth. I'm 28 and 12 months ago I move to Gadigal Country. And since moving I felt this overwhelming sense of unfurling. Deeper understanding in the sense of knowing far greater than any place I've been before.

You see, the thing is, you hustle and growing up in that space. A heartland centred on surfing with a heavy drinking culture and a, I guess blue collar workforce that permeates the fabric of our steel city. And whilst some of my Novocastrianisms, my ability to spin a yarn, my love, my deep love for the ocean, there was a toxicity there, a misalignment between my values and the way in which people navigated their lives with the sense of individualism that I knew that didn't resonate with me. And that's not to speak of all pockets of Novocastrian life. And things most certainly have changed for the better in even my relatively short lifetime.

I really, really appreciate the opportunity to articulate this out loud. As storytelling truly is the ties that binds our rich community. And I think the thing that was missing for me, the missing link when I was in Newcastle, was an inability to see intersectionality within our vibrant community. Many of the spaces and the locations I occupied centred on a cis white male community experience.

And this is not dissimilar of so many, I suppose, upper working class regions, cashed up bogans. Thinking about the context in which aspirational wealth is something that is perceived to be the pathway directly to enlightenment, which we know for community, our community who has built monuments off, you know, a whiff of an oily rag from pennies to diamonds.

When I think about the Mardi Gras floats of yesteryear, those gorgeous lesbian lemons and the boys on bikes and the dikes that lead the parade so boldly. It's truly a gift. I believe what I'm saying right now, and I'm not sure where it's gonna go, or if it'll even be listened to by anyone. They seem so foreign to be calling an answering machine and spilling my guts. It's not something I've done since folks use landlines regularly. I feel old.

But I'll tell you something. This week I stood in a room as part of a cohort that was doing the inaugural LGBTQIA+ Executive Fellowship program. And this program was co-hosted through the University of Sydney Business School. I'm an employee of the University of Sydney. But it was also done in collaboration with the Pinnacle Foundation. The Pinnacle Foundation is a marvellous organisation headed up boldly by Andrew Staite (he/him).

My understanding is the Pinnacle has its roots in Naam, but I could be wrong. But now has a great presence across Australia, connecting young LGBTQIA+ students with economic pathways and mentorship opportunities. To be able to build their collective capability as a cohort together, as a way of reimagining what the future looks like, but also understanding where we are here and now.

And these young students tell the most profound stories of struggle, and through that struggle for saving educational attainment at the other side, something that so many of our ancestors, our queer ancestors, could never have dreamed of because they wouldn't have been allowed to set foot in the institutions in which those papers, those arbitrary documents, are held. Because we know that our community experience, our lived experience, is our strength. But not only is it a strength, it's something that I believe wholeheartedly should be etched into employment documents across this country and position descriptions as part of the ways of which we, you know, build relational symbiotic connections with people. Because the prism in which the queer experience provides an individual attends to a deep state of emotional intelligence.

I was talking about that executive fellowship. Back to that. There was 27 of us. I was the youngest scholar there for a couple of years. And from my understanding, because I never want to assume the lived experience of others, there was no other out transgender people. And whilst the week was a rich galvanizing experience, this little part of me felt a sense of loneliness. It was quite challenging to sit in a room amongst community and still be other. To still have a point of tangible difference through the lived experience of not walking through the world as the gender I was presumed to be at birth. On one hand, it gets me down.

There's been such theme through unlearning business and applying a queer lens of what it means to amplify your own story, even when sticking your neck out feels like an impossible task. And what I wish I could say to little Kate, who was so ambitious and so eager to please, and so eager to serve and care for community, who had a deep sense of social justice from a really small age, is that it's gonna be alright, that you're gonna have the opportunity to move to Gadigal Wangal land with the love of your life. Your other half, your 14 year old (?) and Jess, your partner of 10 years who has seen every reflection of your prism and has still stood by you so staunchly. And at that time on Gadigal Wangal land will be the balm that soothes all the wounds that came before. And that, through the connections you'll build at the University of Sydney, through staff and students alike, will bring you greater sense of community.

An experience that extends beyond dance floors, which was what you've known for, and when you take step away from the spaces in which sometimes hold our community hostage. And that's the gambling rooms found in [ends abruptly]