By Mike Cook | 17 October 2016
All you need is love?BRISBANE - Simon Playford grins as he jovially jives his way down Brisbane’s Ann Street. Uncontrollably, he dances, with each beat of the drum urging a new move. His feet cannot stop. Neither can those of the men and women around him. Sweaty bodies move as one, surging through the streets of New Farm.
The atmosphere is electric; a contagious bliss infecting the horde of people. Music blares as the crowd sings to Mariah Carey’s top hits. It’s a moment to be savoured. Merriment. Joy. Unadulterated happiness. And illegality. Draped in the rainbow flag, thousands of people flood Brisbane streets for September’s Pride Festival. The colours of the rainbow flag as loud as their cries. They demand to heard. They demand to be seen as equal. Playford marches as an out and proud gay man. At 23 years of age, he has witnessed an amendment to the Marriage Act (2004) which explicitly excluded same-sex marriage, the legalisation of civil partnerships, and no less than 16 attempts to change legislation that prohibits him marrying another man. Yet, as it stands, Australia remains the last English-speaking developed nation to have not legalised marriage for same-sex couples. Playford is lost for words as to why Australia has not passed a Bill allowing the joint union of two persons of the same gender. Amid a myriad umms, uhhs, errs and moments of silent contemplation, he finally strings together a coherent statement to express his bewilderment: “I’m absolutely baffled. Just baffled at why we haven’t reached this point yet. I can’t even give you a reason. It doesn’t make sense to me.” As a law student, Playford is well-versed in the inner workings of parliament and the intricacies of changing legislation. As a member and advocate for the LGBTQI community, he has been at the forefront of discrimination and prejudice emanating from society. “Inclusion is always an issue for the LGBTQI community. The continual confrontation with homophobia makes me feel I can’t truly be myself,” he says. “There’s still a culture of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’.” Living in Toowoomba in regional Queensland, Playford admits his home town is one of the most homophobic areas in Australia. He refuses to be disregarded, adamant that change is in progress. “We’ve had a massive transition to a new area of activism in the last 30 years to the stage where we’re slowly obtaining adequate rights and recognition,” he says. “There’s nothing to differentiate between a straight person and a gay person. We should have and are entitled to the same rights.” In 2016, Australian society once again stands at the crossroads where parliament and social rights intersect. The Turnbull Government is intent on proceeding with plans to hold a national plebiscite, despite public opinion shifting in favour of a free vote in parliament. For the legislation to pass, the Liberal-National party must gain the support of nine additional senators. However, the Labor party has vowed to block the bill. Opposition Leader Bill Shorten has called for parliament to “do its job” and press forward with a free vote among parliamentarians. The plebiscite carries a price tag of $160 million: a cost many deem an unnecessary waste of money. The ballot, proposed for early 2017, will call each man and woman to the polling booths to pass judgment on whether the 3.4 per cent of society who consider themselves homosexual should be given the right to marry. Shelley Argent, the proud mother a gay man, holds steadfast on her belief that the plebiscite opens the door for those who oppose marriage equality to proliferate agendas of hate. What could only be described as propaganda to quash the freedom of those of the LGBTQI community. Argent fears any political campaign will encourage derogatory comment. “The plebiscite will not be respectful. I know, and everyone else knows it.” Yet, Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull has bolstered the plebiscite on claims it is the fastest way to see a parliamentary vote on same-sex marriage. For over 20 years, Argent has advocated for marriage equality. In this time, the number of those identified as being involved in a same-sex relationship has more than tripled. Spurred by her son’s sexual orientation, Argent became the spokesperson for Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays and is determined to change legislation that discriminates against a section of the Australian population. In the beginning of her pursuit for equality, Argent was subject to condescension; her fight was disregarded as nothing more than that of a diligent parent. “I was always patted on the head and told what a wonderful mother I was. Then I was led to the door,” she says. Parliamentarians assured her marriage equality would forever remain an elusive dream. “Government kept putting up all these ‘requirements’. Of course it was the donkey and the carrot. Every time the donkey moved, so did the carrot.” Argent views the plebiscite as another tactic to prolong injustice as the vote does not ascertain a change in law. Argent is frank with her assessment of parliament’s hesitation. “If Turnbull does what’s right, and he knows what that it is, he’ll support a free vote.” Under Australian federal law, the most recognition a same-sex couple can achieve is a de facto partnership under the guise of a civil union, civil partnership or domestic partnership. While recognition of marriage remains consistent interstate and internationally, de facto partnerships do not. In both Western Australia and the Northern Territory, these recognition schemes for same-sex couples are not even present. Mark Turner bites his lip, frustrated with what he labels an archaic depiction of marriage that refuses to acknowledge his love. Around Turner’s finger is a silver band signifying his promise to wed his betrothed. The ring, while given with the intent of a life of bliss with his husband-to-be, bears a weight that dampens the proposal. He, like many others, must flee the country to legally marry. Turner, at 23 years of age, is about to enter into a commitment that will not be acknowledged in his home country. “In Australia, I can’t legally say this is my husband. That’s a big thing for me.” He blames the government for tiptoeing around the subject and praises America for legalising same-sex marriage before Australia. As a fiancé to an American citizen, Turner finds refuge in the ability to wed in a country where he is viewed as an equal member of society. Turner absentmindedly rotates the engagement ring around his finger. “As soon as I return home, my relationship is not recognised.” However, what is a promise of eternal happiness to some, a wedding ring more closely resembles a cuff tethered to a ball and chain for others. “I refuse to get married.” Lachlan McGregor holds firm on his belief, calling the institution of marriage a social construct that encourages people to commit themselves to a life filled with unquenched carnal cravings. “People forcing themselves into monogamous set-ups never work.” Rejecting longstanding monogamy, McGregor is open about his habitual use of the gay social-networking app Grindr which is known for facilitating ‘no-strings-attached’ encounters. Epitomising the stereotype of promiscuous homosexuality, he proudly admits wedding another is not, and will never be, for him. Yet, despite the cynicism that laces every word spoken when he discusses marriage, McGregor can see the futility of further marginalising the LGBTQI community. “I don't like inequality of any kind so it angers me that gay people still can’t get married.” Spurred by an infuriation for intolerance, the thousands who take to the streets refuse to let parliament dictate marriage laws without public intervention. As the crowds disperse, Playford is still beaming. Echoing the words of those who protest alongside, he calls for the Australian government to amend laws to include same-sex marriage. “You can have your values but you have to remain open to change to move forward.” “It puts a value on our love and it just should be.” |