Pride is still a protest
PRIDE month is more than a time of recognition, it’s a call to action. It reminds us that while visibility is empowering, it can come at a cost
Published 27 June 2025
As we near the end of PRIDE month 2025, I find myself reflecting on the past and how far we’ve come, as well as the journey that still lies ahead.
Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to travel internationally, and it’s always striking to hear how many people view Australia as a progressive nation.
They’re often surprised when I share that marriage equality didn’t become law here until 2018, following the painful and divisive plebiscite in 2017.
This year’s theme for International Day against Homophobia, Biphobia, Intersexism and Transphobia (IDAHOBIT) was ‘The Power of Communities’. It resonated deeply with me.
In 2022, I had the privilege of attending the Damn These Heels film festival in Salt Lake City, Utah, where my short film POOFTA was screened. It was there that I heard many stories of people being excluded from their families and the Mormon Church after coming out.
One story in particular stands out.
A man, the second eldest of eight siblings, told me how he had struggled with his sexuality for years before finally coming out to his wife. To his surprise, she shared that she was also gay.
Now, they both live in same-sex relationships, raising their children together, though they have been excommunicated from their families and the church.
It was a powerful reminder of how chosen families can provide love and support when biological ones can’t or won’t.
During the festival, I also had the chance to meet with a group of young local LGBTIAQ+ people.
My husband and I were invited to a ‘potluck’ evening with them, where we were deeply moved by their generosity and the personal stories they shared.
Almost all had been excommunicated from their families and the Church, yet they had found their chosen families, communities that cared for them.
When we got back to our car that night, we just sat there for a while, feeling heartbroken and angry about the rejection they’d faced, but also so grateful that they had found people who truly loved and supported them.
I recently spent time with some friends of my generation, gay men in their 50s and 60s, one of whom expressed frustration with younger queer people for not acknowledging the struggles of earlier generations.
My response was simple: “I’m just happy that younger queer individuals can live their lives more freely than we could. For me, that acknowledgment is enough.”
As a filmmaker, my recent work has focused on the enduring impact of homophobia on queer identity in a post-marriage equality Australia.
I’m fascinated by the undercurrents of homophobia that persist, shaping the lived experiences of LGBTIAQ+ people even in a society that is legally inclusive.
Politics & Society
The protests that began Mardi Gras
The central question driving my work is, how do LGBTIAQ+ people navigate the tension between public safety and authentic self-expression in a society that is legally progressive but socially ambivalent or even hostile?
I’m particularly interested in exploring the emotional labour of being ‘closeted’ and the broader implications of visibility for LGBTIAQ+ youth in future projects.
Last month, I lost a very dear friend, someone who had been in my life for 40 years. She was my first boss, and I learned so much from her about business during our time working side by side.
When I made the decision to study film, she generously paid for my tuition, a gesture that changed the course of my life.
She was a constant source of encouragement, always urging me to aim high and believe in myself.
Her passing has left me heartbroken, but also deeply aware of how vital our chosen families and communities are, how we hold each other up, open doors, and shape one another’s futures through acts of care and generosity.
She was that kind of person for me.
For me, PRIDE month is more than a time of recognition, it’s a call to action. It reminds us that while visibility can be empowering, it can also come at a cost.
It challenges us to listen with intention, to create spaces where all LGBTIAQ+ people feel genuinely safe, seen, and supported, and to keep advocating for those whose voices remain unheard.
Politics & Society
The great ‘gayby’ boom
The true power of community lies in its ability to hold space for both pain and celebration, and it’s in that spirit that I continue my work, telling stories, building connections, and standing in solidarity with those still fighting for equality, dignity, and belonging.
I take comfort in knowing that the strength of our communities can sustain us through both grief and growth.
You may spot me wearing a T-shirt that reads ‘Pride is Still a Protest’, because it is.
By wearing this statement, I aim to spark conversations, challenge complacency and remind us all that the spirit of PRIDE is rooted in activism and the continuous pursuit of justice.