Debate

MAGAZINE

ISSUE 11 GENDER SEPTEMBER

Keen for a getaway that won't break the bank? Book your getaway now! www.autsa.org.nz/the-lodge The AUTSA Lodge at Tongariro National Park is available at rock bottom prices for AUT students. It sleeps up to 12 people!

EDITOR

Sam Clark

DESIGNER

Charlie Ratahi McFarland

ASSOCIATE EDITOR

Liam Hansen

FEATURE WRITER

Briar Pomana

CULTURE & LIFESTYLE WRITER

Thomas Giblin

CHIEF REPORTER

Nic George

NEWS WRITER

Vanessa Elley

SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER

Frances Revita

CONTRIBUTORS

Emily Wharekura, Joel Armstrong, Issy Falkiner, Kenny Stanford, Haydn Nixon

COVER ART

Lucy Higgins

ADVERTISING

Jesse Jones jesse.jones@autsa.org.nz

PRINTER

Nicholson Print Solutions

DISCLAIMER

Material contained in this publication does not necessarily represent the views or opinions of AUTSA, its advertisers, contributors, Nicholson Print Solutions or its subsidiaries.

This publication is entitled to the full protection given by the Copyright Act 1994 (“the Act”) to the holders of the copyright, being AUT STUDENT ASSOCIATION (“AUTSA”). Reproduction, storage or display of any part of this publication by any process, electronic or otherwise (except for the educational purposes specified in the Act) without express permission is a break of the copyright of the publisher and will be prosecuted accordingly. Inquiries seeking permission to reproduce should be addressed to AUTSA.

Debate is a member of the Aotearoa Student Press Association (ASPA).

Follow Debate!

debatemag.com

From the Editor

[news] New Rainbow research collection

'Ia' a world first

Choose your gender

The Glitch and Glamour of Hybrid Rose

De-gender your Clothes, Break your Rotation

The Young & Informed: Make It 16 debate gives rangatahi the floor

The Haka

Five Trans & Non-Binary Artists You Should Know About

Enbious

What's On

Gig Guide

Puzzles

debate_mag autsadebate debate@autsa.org.nz 04 08 05 06 34 26 35 20 32 29 23

DEBATE MAGAZINE ISSUE TEKAU MĀ TAHI THEME: GENDER

Nau mai, haere mai – welcome back!

I hope everyone had a nice break, and you're all ready for the final push of the year. We’re kicking off the semester with an issue dedicated to gender: celebrating diversity, discussing its issues and confusing our grandads.

Gender is a powerful thing. It surrounds us, as many of us perform roles that have been ingrained into our actions since birth – whether we’re aware of it or not. It’s also inherently political, with ongoing issues like trans healthcare and closing the gender pay gap at the front of our minds this election. We’re all acutely aware of the work that needs to be done in this space, but it’s easy to forget about the transphobia and sexism that exists outside of the progressive university environment. Because we surround ourselves with like-minded people, we often assume that everyone else shares the same values, so it can be quite alarming when we’re exposed to ideas that clash with our own.

I experienced this when I was in Northland last weekend, where fringe party NZ Loyal is campaigning against vaccinations, climate change legislation, sex and gender education in schools and abortion rights. It’s troubling to see how these extreme ideas have such a strong presence in Aotearoa. However, if we’re mindful of these ideas and where they stem from, perhaps we can think of better ways to address them.

Aotearoa journalist David Farrier puts it like this: “Go and learn about that conspiracy theory as much as you can. Dive into Wikipedia, Google it, learn what the arguing points are. And then in a very simple way, when you meet your friend, just tell them you want to understand what they believe. Then you can explain that stuff back to them better than they know it.” Often, these ideas have no scientific basis – like fear mongering around letting trans people use the bathroom that matches their identities; when studies show that trans people are far more unsafe using the bathroom that opposes their identity. The Spinoff’s policy.nz website is also a good place to start. While it can be useful to affirm our own beliefs and find out which policies align with our values – it’s also beneficial to learn about opposing views, and understand where they come from.

I also hope this issue can provide some positivity and a break from the madness leading up to such a monumental election. We‘re very lucky to feature some insights from our trans whānau, while our writers focus on trans artists and creators working in Aotearoa and beyond. That’s all from me whānau –please enjoy this very special edition of Debate!

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR, SAM CLARK

Ella cut my hair By Vanessa Elley (she/her) News Writer

AUT’s new Rainbow research collection la - unveiled on September 6th, is already home to over 100 Rainbowspecific dissertations, theses, reports, books, and journal articles.

The e-portal accumulates 20 years worth of work from staff and post-graduate students across different disciplines, the first of its kind to do so.

“And what we were trying to do was get the knowledge to flow out into our communities and out into the world.”

Vice-Chancellor Professor Damon Salesa said in a statement, “AUT is incredibly proud to be at the forefront of promoting and supporting Rainbow research.

By (he/him)

One of the academics involved in the project and spokesperson for AUT’s Rainbow Initiative, Professor Welby Ings, says he was surprised nothing like Ia already existed.

“It’s the first in the world! We looked everywhere, we thought surely someone’s doing it. No-one had done it.”

Ia is breaking new ground by collating Rainbow-related research from across all of the university’s departments.

“There’s not been a university wide, across all the disciplines representation,” Ings said.

“And what Ia does is everything that goes onto Tuwhera, our open-research database, that is associated with our people, irrespective of whether it’s say, a student’s thesis, or an academic government report, or a book, or a feature film script, or a novel, that all comes in, so this connects everything in a whole university.”

The collection is intended to improve the visibility and accessibility of queer research, a goal reflected by the name Ia

“The word ia, it’s not well-known in Māori but it’s actually got two meanings,” Ings said.

“One, it’s a pronoun that’s not gendered, so it’s not masculine or feminine. But the word also means to flow, like a current or like a river.

“Ia serves as a living example of visibility and value, demonstrating that AUT is proud of, and acknowledges, the significance and necessity of such research.”

The hope is that Ia will pave the way for other universities to create similar collections, building a network of archives between universities and organisations such as the Lesbian and Gay Archives of New Zealand (LAGANZ).

Ings said that collecting research from over 155 contributors at AUT has already helped to identify gaps for new study.

“It just means it’s easier to find out what exists. And similarly, I think it helps identify where the areas are that we need researchers.

“The reason I love my job is that we’re growing, you have students who come through who will be the researchers of the future, who will be able to go to the places we haven’t been able to go yet.

“And so everything we can do to make it easier for them and also enable them to do the things that we’ve not yet been able to do, that’s a really important investment.”

Ia: The Rainbow Collection can be found online at ia.aut.ac.nz.

ISSUE 5 DRUGS

New Rainbow research collection Ia a world first NEWS

Choose your gender

By Kenny Stanford (he/him) CONTRIBUTING WRITER Haydn Nixon (he/him) ILLUSTRATIONS

A question people like to ask me is, "How did you discover you were trans?" On some level, people are expecting some big "aha!" moment where you finally figure out the answer to the unsolvable puzzle of your life. This is a complete contrast to the embarrassing answer I choke out every time: an online quiz.

One of my friends introduced it to me during media studies in my final year of high school. We all gathered around the table, laughing quietly to ourselves about how shallow and stereotypical the questions were. We laughed even harder at the answers, which revealed the percentage of each gender we were. Mine was 11% female, 22% male - casually masculine . I bragged to my friends about how I had the least gender out of all of us. I rode that high for the entire day, unable to get that stupid quiz out of my head. I woke up the next day, still happy. Then the next, and the next.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this isn't how most people think. Long after my friends had moved on to the next new thing to keep themselves entertained, it was still on my mind. I tried to forget about it, but I couldn't. I'm not sure why it was so enticing, but it must have been the idea of feeling empowered to change my identity, and the label that I had identified with my entire life. All in all, to have less gender.

A couple of days later I distinctly remember when it just clicked. The thought of being more masculine-presenting made me feel an emotion I wouldn't be able to name for another few years - euphoria . That night, I asked my friends to address me with a more masculine name. They willingly agreed. I woke up the next day embarrassed. I didn't want to be a boy. I must have just been confused last night.

If you want to be a man, who's going to stop you? In a day and age where hormone replacement therapy and surgery are available, why would you deny yourself a chance of being happy?

Why would I throw away a good thing, something I already knew how to do? I knew what was expected of me as a woman, and I acted as closely to that expectation as possible.

I had spent my entire life trying to fulfil my idea of an ideal woman. I let my parents pick out clothes for me like a doll. I tried to learn to cook and sew. I spent all of my free time seeking validation from other people. I had this idea of the perfect girl, and my whole life was spent trying to replicate that as closely as possible. Other girls became competition. I grew jealous of the ones who wore floral perfumes, had cute outfits and were always nice to everyone around them. As much as I tried, as many times as I changed my style, I couldn't catch up. The clothes that looked cute on others fell flat when I put them on. I lacked a passion for cooking, and still can’t quite get the hang of it. I couldn’t keep up with their conversations. I didn't understand why I didn't fit in and couldn't relate to them. There had to be something wrong with me. I was doing everything right, but nothing was working. I blamed everyone around me as if it was their fault and not mine.

And yet, I couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to be a boy. I often grew jealous of the men around me: their hair, their clothes, their voices, everything reminded me of what I didn't have. At some point, it even made its way into my dreams, and every day I woke up wishing it had been real. I wished I had been born a boy.

I started to identify as gender fluid, but I was embarrassed to say that publicly. Sometimes I wanted to be a man, and sometimes I wanted to be a girl, so that must have been what I was. Looking back on it now, that was never how I felt. Some days I wanted to be a man, and some days I was better at suppressing that desire.

So, I started to pay more attention to the trans people around me, all of a sudden, my Twitter and TikTok feeds were all about trans people. They all told the same story about how they had always known they were trans (which is incredibly valid). They dressed like boys, they referred to themselves in a masculine way, and they felt that they were men. This is the same thing I had heard my entire life. That if I were trans I would have known sooner. But I didn't. Up until this point I had no problems with being a girl. I wore dresses, played with Barbies and had long hair. I never had a problem picturing myself as a girl. There wasn't a single sign. I didn't feel it deep inside – I didn't feel the urge to change my name, or my life. I just wanted to be a man. I would’ve felt so much happier if I was born a man. I knew plenty of people who felt the same – they told me that they couldn't be a man and neither could I, simply because I wanted to.

That, my friends, is a huge lie. One day, after years of stressing over the way I was feeling, I finally voiced all of my concerns to a fellow transmasculine person, to which he responded, "Why not?" Suddenly, my whole way of thinking shifted. Why isn't wanting to be a man enough? There isn't some secret test that you have to pass to be deemed trans enough. If you want to be a man, who's going to stop you? In a day and age where hormone replacement therapy and surgery are available, why would you deny yourself a chance of being happy?

Even after that revelation, it took me another two years to come to terms with the idea. It came to me suddenly, after months of endless thinking and frustration. Lying in bed one night, I whispered to myself, "I am a boy." In that moment, I let myself entertain the thought that it could be true. Then I was like, "Oh."

Honestly, how cool is it to have this body that you can customise any way you want? You can dye your hair bright colours, get permanent doodles etched into your skin, put holes in it to hang shiny gems out of. I became so much happier when I stopped taking everything so seriously and instead thought of myself as a blank canvas. There's no penalty if you get it wrong. Do whatever you want.

THE GLITCH & GLAMOUR OF Hybrid Rose

By Liam Hansen (they/them) ASSOCIATE EDITOR

You guys remember 2010? I remember 2010 – sort of. I was only five, but I swear I remember being aware that it was 2010. I had just gotten glasses, and I spent all of my time dancing and singing to High School Musical, crying at Charlie Brown and Snoopy cartoons, trying to explain why I wanted the girl toy in my Happy Meal and eating shit every time I remotely tried to move my body. I must’ve been immediately queer and enby coded from the moment I exited the womb. This is probably the fault of 2010 being, well, 2010, and the radio playing a constant repeat of Kesha and Lady Gaga. Shimmery shiny pop music was pumping through the stereo in primary school, and although I didn't want to admit it - I ate that shit up. I was so fucking girlypop, dude.

Thankfully, I’m not the only one. On the other side of the country, the same electro-pop anthems were playing throughout Blenheim, influencing the very, very early work of the artist now known as Hybrid Rose, of the most seminal psychotic bimbo pop (as she would call it) musicians coming out of Aotearoa. She combines the progressive attitudes of 2023 towards gender and sexuality with the glitch and glamour of early 2010s pop music. Her self-produced, retro game-esque chiptune synths and bitcrushed vocals sound like the feeling of spending too much time on the internet, yarning with under-developed chatbots, and falling into a digital wormhole of strange videos and communities that make you question some things about yourself.

After releasing her fantastic fifth album HyperKunt last year, Hybrid Rose has been tinkering away at a follow-up that builds on her previous experiments with her vocal ability and range, forming herself into an ever-changing popstar that five-year-old me would have gender-envied. We're now fresh off the release of Mutation (which was leaked, more on that later), which is the culmination of 18 months worth of writing, recording and producing, making up Rose's most developed and grandiose work yet. I sat down with her last month to discuss her musical journey so far, her identity, and what the future holds for an already forward thinking artist. We also accidentally brainstormed an Elon Musk diss album. This was a very fun interview.

Liam

How long have you been making music for?

Hybrid Rose

God, my whole life? My first ever memory of making a song was producing on a computer when I was five years old. I was at a Catholic school, St. Mary's, of all places, and I was a misfit. They didn't know how to figure me out until they were like, "We're just gonna give her a laptop, open up GarageBand and see what happens." So I gotta thank the Jesus-loving ladies for that. Fast forward five years, and I discovered you could plug SingStar USB microphones into the computer, so I started experimenting more with my vocals.

Liam

Holy shit, that's genuinely the exact same way that I record music. It's shocking how good the quality is on those SingStar microphones.

Hybrid Rose

It's just a dynamic microphone! It's literally the same as what you would use on stage.

Liam

And they were just giving it out for $20 with a video game. So when did you start as Hybrid Rose, your current moniker?

Hybrid Rose

I started with it when I was 17. I had just put up my first song, ‘Video Games’, under a different name. It got some good buzz that motivated me to continue, but I didn't like using my real name. Adding on the hybrid bit kind of gave me the space to change later on - now people think I'm talking about the car.

Liam

So the music is just being made for car bros?

Hybrid Rose

Exactly! That's my audience. Although I don't have a car... or a licence.

Liam I hope to god in some future Fast and Furious movie, Hybrid Rose is playing in the background during a high-energy chase scene. Same energy as ‘Vroom Vroom’ by Charli XCX.

Hybrid Rose

Yes! I am the straight peoples Charli XCX. [We both break into hysterics. There's a lot of this.]

Liam

(through laughter) Specifically straight people who would use a hybrid car?

Hybrid Rose

Exactly. All of my gigs are at car dealerships now.

Liam So did it go from ‘Video Games’ on to HyperKunt, your most recent album?

Hybrid Rose

No, oh my gosh, it's been such a long journey. ‘Video Games’ came out in 2016. And then maybe a month and a half later, I put out another song that isn't on streaming platforms anymore called ‘Pixel’ - that's when I started off with the Hybrid Rose name. Over the next few years I put out a bunch of different albums, but

usually instrumentals and stuff like that. I eventually took those off streaming - they don't really speak to what I'm doing now. HyperKunt was sort of my rebrand, which put an emphasis on the vocals, and was a bit more hot girly pop stuff.

Liam

Do you reckon your sound has developed a lot since those albums?

Hybrid Rose

Absolutely, yeah. In terms of production, in terms of quality, in terms of new experiences which lead to me developing more technical skills. When I did my first couple of albums, I was just at home, in my room, graduating high school in a small town. But after being at uni in Wellington, I learned so much and elevated super quickly. I think now, I'm really happy because I'm doing everything I've always wanted to do and being everything I've always wanted to be.

Liam

What does it feel like to be reaching that stage?

Hybrid Rose

AMAZING! I mean, my breasts are coming in - no, just kidding. It's great because I've built up the confidence and courage to just be careless about it.

Liam

A lot of your persona and music is very internet focused. Were you telling people at your high school that you were doing music?

Hybrid Rose

Well, they saw it on social media when I posted about it, but I wasn't doing gigs or out collaborating with anyone. I mean - I'm from Blenheim. At least now, there's venues and stuff there, but during my time there was just nothing. I was always on the internet, being introverted and quiet in my room. Then with HyperKunt, I was out gigging and playing at festivals and doing all these things, sometimes several times a week, even though it's not what I'm naturally good at. I have a lot of internet friends that I've collaborated with on this album, which was my first time taking a step back from being the main producer. A good friend of mine

mixed a lot of it, which was kind of a way for me to trick them into releasing their music. But yeah, I just prefer to have further creative control. I'm very specific about what I want, and it's very rare when I meet people who are good at helping me articulate the image I'm looking for.

Liam

I guess that's like a mix between video game music and stuff you'd hear on the internet in 2006.

Hybrid Rose

Fuck, why does everybody keep coding me as a gamer girl when I'm not? Haha, no I see what you mean. I took a lot of influence from glitch pop in my earliest stuff. I guess a lot of early hyperpop was just glitch music.

Liam

I remember the switch a few years ago, when people stopped calling that style bubblegum bass or experimental pop and started calling it hyperpop.

Hybrid Rose

Hyperpop isn’t a genre in my eyes. It's more of a vibe. I think the only person who really did hyperpop properly was Sophie. She's the only one who really gave you that next level, futuristic type of pop that you just can't reproduce.

Liam

You couldn't find a single person in the scene nowadays that wasn't to some extent, influenced by Sophie. She was definitely my introduction to experimental pop. Beyond her and her contemporaries, who has influenced you and your work?

Hybrid Rose

100% Lady Gaga and 2010 era Kesha. That was a very specific era for her as an artist, as a character, and as a musician, when she utilised that chiptune style that made everything sound like it was coming out of a Casio keyboard. It was contrasted against such grand mixes and masters. I was like nine or ten when it came out, so its sound tracked a lot of my development as a kid.

Liam

Combining lo-fi production with a grandiose atmosphere and mix goes pretty hand in hand with combining the campy visuals with the tone of the song. What is it like trying to combine these two opposing vibes?

Hybrid Rose

Visually, I'm always trying to portray what I envision the song to be in my head. There is a song off Mutation called ‘Mama’, which is basically a MILF anthem. But Hazel, the rapper on the song, has this lyric "You gutta drink these udders like it's tea time". So I thought the single cover should be a picture of a female's body, but the tits have udders on them. And I executed it perfectly.

Liam You designed it yourself?

Hybrid Rose

Wait, I'll show you (Rose pulls out her phone). It's probably gonna make you vomit.

Liam Oh, it's fine. It's art.

Hybrid Rose

That's what I mean. I'm always striving to give the best version of something, and especially with music, I always want it to be the closest to how I envision it for myself so that I can be like, "This is my work. This is everything that I am and that I can put into my art. Take it or leave it." Oh, here we go. (She shows me the cover art.)

Liam

Oh that's so good. I expected it to be super cartoony, Doja Cat style, Nah, that's fucking incredible.

Hybrid Rose

I just took a picture on my phone of my real tits, and then I just found some udders on Google Images and used Photoshop. I did that here, at this very cafe!

Liam

Do you do much other design work like that?

Hybrid Rose

No. I'm not sure if people are ever gonna flock to me for my graphic design.

Liam

Did you go into any of these songs on Mutation with a plan of what you wanted to make? Was there any point where you went "HyperKunt sounds like this, so Mutation will sound like that"?

Hybrid Rose

Not really. After the last album came out, I was in a really dark, chronic burnout phase. Actually, from when the lead single for HyperKunt ‘Dial Tone' came out I was pretty gone, but I thought "I can't take a break now, because everything's already been put in place to be rolled out." I barely took care of myself over those few months, so I just wanted to take some time to focus on myself and do gigs every now and then. Eventually, I got the energy back, and I had this idea of calling the album ‘Purge’, which was gonna be really dark and gothic, with all of these really screamy, aggressive tracks since I just wanted to get that feeling of frustration and upsetness out. I finished it, but I only kept a few songs from it on this album. It was very physically demanding to put together, so I figured I would next try to do some softer stuff that felt really pussy. After I was just like "Well, now I have 50 songs. Let's try compile this into something more put together." And that was Mutation

Liam

It goes really well with the ‘hybrid’ theme of everything - Fuck, now every time that I'd say "Hybrid" I just think "cars, cars, cars."

Hybrid Rose

No, absolutely not! Well, my follow-up is now gonna be called "Tesla", so thanks. (We both break into laughter).

Liam Fucking Tesla Rose?

Hybrid Rose

No, Hybrid Musk.

Liam Is the album cover just an X?

Hybrid Rose

No, it's me in boy drag. Title track called 'X', which is just a diss track to Threads.

Liam

The main point of music just needs to be just, like, making Elon Musk as angry as possible.

Hybrid Rose

And have a collab with Grimes?

Liam

All the lyrics are just excerpts from the Communist Manifesto. I still think about that image so often.

Hybrid Rose

Yeah, I'll re-enact that picture for the single cover.

Liam

New ideas are just coming in and out.

Hybrid Rose

God, look at this creative machine right now.

Liam

A lot of your music is quite tongue-in-cheek, but it's not comedy music, or anything like that. How do you balance those two sides of it?

Hybrid Rose

My usual coping mechanism in general is using Gen Z mannerisms. I'll be telling a really tragic story to my friends, and then just be like, "Ah, well, you know. (Rose pulls out the killer peace sign/ tongue out combo) That was weeeiird." It just makes it easier to be vulnerable without darkening the tone of a conversation. It's just how I deal. It feels personally a bit played out to have sad songs that are gut wrenching all the time. It's good to have songs that are like that, but not constantly. Then you just sort of look like a sad bitch. Oh my god, song title, "Sad Bitch!" Let me write that down actually!

Liam

The creative machine keeps on going! Do you have more vulnerable songs coming up on Mutation?

Hybrid Rose

Yeah, but they're made in a way so it retains the essence of Hybrid without sacrificing a bit more emotional depth. For example, my favourite song on the album is called 'Blackout'. Here, I'll play a bit of it.

[Rose played me a portion of the song, which is definitely an inch darker than her previous material. The catharsis came through the mixand as I listened we chatted about the situation that inspired it and how she was able to let go of it through the song's production.]

Liam

What was it like to have that experience of breaking through your past while producing this track?

Hybrid Rose

Well, a lot of this album was made in a studio. I'm usually a bedroom producer, so I do everything at home in my space with flatmates around. There's some sort of limitation in terms of how much I want to scream, or how much noise I'm gonna make, or how honest I want to get with the people around me. There's a few more songs where I talk about my trans identity, about my neurology, et cetera. It's been the most stressful thing I've ever done, but it's also the biggest, most high production thing I've created.

Liam

Were you working with anyone in person in the studio?

Hybrid Rose

No, there was a lot of collaboration but it was all done digitally. For example, I worked with Ariki on a song called ‘Frankenstein’. And it is crazy. But we never met, even though they're literally up the road. We just had this really cool song idea, and we were still able to bond and connect over it.

Liam You talked earlier about exploring gender and sexuality. Do you think there was a correlation between transitioning and music? Or were they more separate things?

Hybrid Rose

Eh, for me, I don't even think about my transition anymore. I just feel so confident in my gender euphoria right now that I don't even think about it. I'm just a woman. I got makeup on. I got titties. I'm just too busy enjoying that and doing what I want to do. I've already had my period of time where I was hyper-focused on it. Now I just get to sit back and be a woman.

Liam

Was that a long process for you?

Hybrid Rose

I mean, it's always gonna be a journey. There's always gonna be pockets of time where I think about it, and question if I'm where I want to be with my transition. But even when I first came out, I was so sheltered. I didn't know about hormones, or surgeries, or that you could change your name or legal gender. I just tried to openly identify as a woman, and figure everything else out later. I just slowly developed a much more fully realised feminine ideal of myself. Now I just get to show up. It took a few years for that mindset to start developing on its own. I want to say it was just before lockdown when I really started to figure it out. Now I get to live my life, but people don't want me to live my life. Because, for some reason, we can't be happy with who we are.

Liam

Are you planning on doing any gigs for Mutation?

Hybrid Rose

Nah, after experimenting with it I've figured that I'm just not a gig person. But I want to test out digital experiences and listening parties. I want to allow people to experience the project in multiple mediums.

Liam After 18 months of work on this album, how does it feel for its release to be around the corner?

Hybrid Rose

I am shitting my pants. Because, look, last week when 'Hugs N Kisses' came out, I was having a ball doing all the interviews and press, but by the end of the day I was feeling postpartum depression. I've sat on 'Hugs N Kisses' for 13 months, and the video took three months to create. I invested a lot of time, energy, money, resources, and myself into this project - and then it's no longer mine, just like that. I definitely know that I'm going to be anxious when Mutation comes out because it's so personal. I've never done something so from the heart. But I think the people who know me, the people in my circle, the people who follow my music, deserve to know a little bit more about me as a person so that I don't have to present myself all the time. I'm finding myself as I get older, slowly dissociating from social media. I'm forcing myself to be a presence because I have music coming out, but I don't want to do that. I just want to be in my space and let the music speak for itself, and for the people who connect to it to find it and enjoy it.

Liam

Are you wanting it to reach a big audience, or do you prefer it being local and underground?

Hybrid Rose

I don't really have an answer because I don't get to choose. It might not even reach as much as 'Hugs N Kisses', or it might go beyond and get streamed millions of times. I just want to put it out as a statement to everyone and say "This is who I am. This is my personality. This is where I'm at. This is who I want to be, who I want to present myself as, and you decide how you want to interpret it, how you want to take it, how you want to deal with it." I don't know what the release day is gonna look like. I don't know what the reception is going to be, but the people who have heard it are happy about it, and are excited for everyone else to hear it.

Liam Was there anything else that you wanted to plug?

Hybrid Rose

I'm gonna plug this dildo in my ass.

Liam Fuck it, I’ll just cut it there.

Okay, quick update: Rose leaked Mutation! It's great, but it's also a buzzy move. So, I reached out to her to ask why. This is what she had to say:

“I leaked the album, that’s right. The most prominent industry support I had behind this record were not looking out for me, and were more focused on making money off me without my best interest at heart. I’m an artist, not a brand, you don’t deserve my art.”

De-gender your Clothes, Break your Rotation

By Issy Falkiner (she/they) CONTRIBUTING WRITER

Steven Acres (he/him) @steven_acres PHOTOGRAPHY

I recently asked some friends of mine, “What is something we all do every single day?” The obvious answers were shot out quickly – drink water, eat something, breathe, shit, look at our phones, et cetera. It took about ten minutes of distracted conversation to get the answer I was looking for: we get dressed. We all get dressed every single day. It’s the one thing we all do consistently, in such a consistently different way. I have one friend who has established an extremely reliable uniform for their life and wears a rotation of the same thing, regardless of what the day calls for. I have another friend whose wardrobe is a series of steel bars covering an entire wall of their bedroom, hanging what looks like the costume departments from Clueless, Trainspotting, and Mars Attack mashed together (it works). My wardrobe is in my kitchen, because we don’t have enough storage space. It’s mostly filled with unfinished sewing projects that are unwearable. We all have our own flavour, I suppose.

The next few times we met, we kept circling back to the conversation of getting dressed and how much we had been thinking about it. For some of us, nothing had changed. We already took getting dressed reasonably seriously and felt we had to think about it each day. We were already aware of the assumptions people make about us based on what we cover our bodies with. The rest of the group reported that they were suddenly very bored of their clothing options and were feeling emotionally flat going about their business in the same rotation of T-shirts and jeans they’d owned for years. This is the fun bit: the entirety of the latter group were men. The former, however, was made up of women and non-binary folks. It’s no surprise that the men amongst us were feeling fed up and limited by the sartorial options available, considering how uncommon it is in Aotearoa to see the general population of men wearing more feminine clothing.

It is exactly this point that drove me to start designing gender-neutral fashion in 2020 (@hams_studio_). Back then, my boyfriend and I were sharing our clothes a lot, having just moved back from overseas. When he would borrow my clothes, he would be hit

with something to the effect of “I love seeing a masc man in a dress!” or “Men in womenswear are so sexy!” When I would borrow his clothes, I would either not hear a single comment about it, or simply receive a pretty standard “you look nice today”. It’s become so common to see women wear “men’s” clothing that no one seems to take much notice – surely there's an argument for having flexibility both ways. We need to make it so normal, so boring, so ordinary to see a man in ‘womenswear’ that no one comments on it unless the outfit itself merits it. The world of ‘menswear’ is, by-and-large, limited. I think that was the kicker for this group of friends I spoke about – they were all bored of what was available to them.

That one friend I mentioned – the one with the steel bar wall wardrobe – is one of the lads and the only one that didn’t become depressed at how little he had to wear. Why? Because he has challenged the identity of ‘man’ through his clothing for a long time. He is the go-to for everyone I know when an outfit needs to be borrowed for an event. He is the best-dressed man I know. Why? Because he doesn’t dress like you’d expect a man to. He’s managed to divorce the notion

HAMS 'GBIA' Collection HAMS 'GBIA' Collection 17

of gender from the clothes he puts on his back, and he’s spoken openly and often about how much more fun he has with clothing now he’s un-done that bit of capitalistic programming in his brain. Interestingly, he has also spoken about how much more secure he feels in his gender identity and expression of masculinity since incorporating ‘womenswear’ and intentionally genderless fashion into his wardrobe.

Suffice to say, clothing doesn’t have a gender, it only has what society gives it. Every single person I have seen challenge the notion of gendered clothing has ended up enjoying getting dressed much, much more. You can also imagine how it might make transitioning slightly less scary for our transgender whānau. Or, how the currently polarising cost of ‘mens’ and ‘womens’ wear might be equalised. Or, how much textile waste (the second biggest polluter, globally) might be saved by reducing the designs needed to appeal to retailers. You can imagine how much more fun the lads would have getting dressed if they could express their gender identities through playing with different clothes more.

If we can accept that gender identity is linked only to the individual and that it has no bearing over where they shop or what they wear – surely we would all start feeling more at home in our clothes. I will be the first to acknowledge that it takes a lot of work to design something that works for as many body types as possible, but that’s work designers should be putting in anyway. Bodies are every bit as varied among men and women as they are across the entire spectrum of humans, regardless of gender. If we all took the approach that we’re designing clothing for all human bodies, rather than male or female bodies – we’d end up with a far more inclusive and approachable industry, where everyone could find clothing that works for them.

Each morning when we get dressed, we’re making microchoices about how we intend to be perceived. Sometimes it’s conscious and sometimes it isn’t – but those choices are made either way. Let’s make it fun, normal and accepted for all of us to challenge our assigned-at-birth gender identities through our clothing.

HAMS 'GBIA' Collection

THE

YOUNG INFORMED & :

Make It 16 debate gives rangatahi the floor

By Nic George (he/him) CHIEF REPORTER

Candidates from a variety of parties took part in a youth debate focussed on housing inequality, climate change, and mental health at Auckland Town Hall on September 12th.

The hosts of the debate, Make It 16, took an unconventional approach, by inviting a range of young leaders on stage to ask the candidates questions.

On stage was Matt Doocey for National, Felix Poole for ACT, Chlöe Swarbrick for the Greens, Arena Williams for Labour, and Arabela Boatwright from Te Pāti Māori.

First up on the stage was a member of the Puketapapa Youth Foundation, Kate Laughter, a 17-year-old student from St Mary's College who lives in Roskill South.

Laughter said her mother has been priced out of the housing market, despite qualifying for a first home-buyer grant.

She acknowledged that all parties had proposed or implemented policies to address this issue. Still, after seeing the prices of Kainga Ora houses exceeding the promised price cap by up to $210k, she wanted to know how each party would ensure follow-through on their promises.

"How do you measure that success when you are not the ones going through it, and how do you ensure that we, as the citizens of this motu, can afford adequate housing?"

Boatwright gave the first response, saying Te Pāti Māori's proposal is to establish a Māori Housing Authority to oversee the access to housing for Māori.

The policy Boatwright was referring to stipulates that 50 percent of new social houses developed would be allocated to Māori.

She said the way to measure the success is by "seeing Māori own their own homes without financial burden."

Census data from 2018 shows the Māori homeownership rate was only 31 per cent, while the national rate was 52 per cent, indicating the disproportionate impact of the housing crisis on Māori.

Swarbrick pointed to the international affordability metrics that track the cost of housing compared to annual income, which she says Aotearoa performs poorly in.

"Internationally, it's considered that affordability standards are approximately three times one's annual income. Here in Aotearoa, particularly in Tāmaki Makaurau, it's approximately 11 to 12 times."

She said the only way to improve that metric is for there to be a "consensus" among political parties that they want house prices to come down.

"You will not hear that from either the National or Labour party.

"They will talk amorphously about the concept of affordability, but let’s talk about what affordability actually is and about how, in order to get there, house prices do need to drop."

Poole said the ACT Party's key focus was increasing the supply of housing by helping the private market through improvements to infrastructure and creating a more "flexible" consent process.

"If we actually get the core infrastructure ready to build houses, then we are going to build more houses."

He mentioned ACT's plan to share 50 per cent of the GST revenue from the construction of new homes. He said this would incentivise councils to free up land for development.

In Laughter's closing remarks, she said "If you want rangatahi to own a home, you need to fulfil these promises and listen to what they're asking for."

The next question was about climate change, from UNICEF’s young ambassador Nele Kalolo, who was born in Samoa and raised in South Auckland.

She said a question she is constantly asked is “What keeps you motivated?” and while she acknowledges this comes from a good place, she said she feels like there is no other option.

“As a young person, and someone from the Pacific, my answer is ‘I didn’t realise it was an option to stop.’ If I stop, my island is gone and my world is gone.”

Kalolo said while she is proud of the climate action work that has been done in Aotearoa, it’s currently limited to those who are privileged enough to stand up and fight.

She said this leads to a big portion of rangatahi being left out of the conversation, so she wanted to know how the candidates planned to bring those people on board.

"How do your parties plan on encouraging our young people to shape climate justice and climate action in Aotearoa, especially for our Māori and Pasifika youth?"

Williams said the most effective way is through climate action at a local level. She highlighted the support Labour has given to organisations, like Te Pu-a-nga Maara, who work with youth in communities to get involved.

"Thanks to Jobs for Nature, Te Pu-a-nga Maara is bringing 30 young people into those jobs to test the water, replant, and restore [Puhinui] stream.

"It's linking up that local work and bringing it to the national stage."

While Doocey and Poole laid out their parties' plans to address climate change, Kalolo singled out their responses for not addressing the Māori and Pasifika youth part of her question.

Doocey made another attempt at answering the question by saying Māori and Pasifika communities "need to be given a voice", and that there is a lot of potential when working with iwi and hapū.

"You quite rightly highlight the Pasifika community that quite often doesn't get the focus in this debate."

Kalolo retorted saying "We have a voice, we've been using it, we've been screaming, we've been fighting. It's now time for us to be heard."

On the issue of mental health support in Aotearoa, Generation Hopes Camille Sutherland spoke about how Western-centric forms of mental health support were not adequately supporting young people – particularly young Māori and Pasifika people.

A report from Stats NZ showed that there has been a significant increase in the proportion of people with poor mental wellbeing, increasing from 22 per cent in 2018 to 28 per cent in 2021.

She highlighted the impact political leaders have on our perception of mental health, and the unrecognised severity of the situation.

“As elected representatives, you have a direct influence on how millions of New Zealanders experience mental health.”

“We the people need to see leadership that actively shifts the understanding away from purely viewing the individual brain.”

“What action will you and your party take in this election year?”

Doocey, National’s spokesperson for mental health, said the main driver for poor mental health support is the lack of professionals in the industry.

“We’ve got to be relentlessly focussed on access. The biggest barrier to timely care in my view is the workforce crisis, and that’s why people sit on waiting lists.”

There was a consensus among all the candidates that the approach to treating mental health needs to come from a grassroots level, through community service providers.

Poole said, “At the end of the day, mental health needs to be a bipartisan issue.”

Swarbrick spoke about socioeconomic impacts on mental health.

“It is effectively the environments that we are in that can turn that propensity toward the manifestation of mental health up or down a notch.”

The event closed off with a Q&A from the audience.

By Briar Pomana (Ngāti Kahungunu, Rongomaiwahine,

Rakaipaaka) (she/her) FEATURE WRITER

THE HAKA

It all began in the little kōhanga down by the motorway on ramp in Manurewa. I met Mahara in the car park on pōhiri day. Our parents bonded over our matching pink gumboots and wild frizzy hair. Then we met Toni. Her whānau came in late and made a ruckus just as we were about to sit down for a cup of tea and kai. Toni was extremely quiet herself and we liked that juxtaposition.

Then we met Te Maire. They were Toni’s cousin, so the pair had been stuck like glue since birth, and it was natural that they’d sometimes tag along to our play dates. Te Maire didn’t come to kōhanga with us, they went to the mainstream pre-school up the road with a flash name and even flasher cars parked outside. I can remember their mum talking about how our kōhanga lacked organisation. Out of all of us, it was Te Maire who was probably the most interested in Te Ao Māori, and everything we took for granted at kōhanga. All the rest of us were interested in was wā kai.

As we got older, it was a major transition for us kura kids to attend mainstream high school. We were so accustomed to learning in an environment where everyone was Māori, it was definitely a culture shock. I can still remember my mother warning me, “Rongo, you will be going to that school, and you will be happy about it. This will be bloody good for you, give you a reality check!” The upside to leaving our kura was that we could finally hang out with Te Maire at school and not just around the library or at Toni’s house.

Our new school felt like it had a million students, a million things to study, and a club for everything. Mahara and I had to restrain ourselves from signing up to all sorts of nonsensical clubs and societies. My father couldn’t stop laughing when I told him we’d signed up for water polo – he damn near dropped dead when I told him how much it cost. During lunch one day, Te Maire suggested that we all join kapa haka. Mahara and I erupted in laughter. We were cackling so much that teachers were coming out of the staffroom to investigate the noise.

“Fuck off, I’m not performing for this Pākehā school,” Mahara managed to get out in between breaths.

“You guys are ratchet. The only reason our kapa is stink is cause you kura kids never join it.” Te Maire pleaded, “We’d be mean if you guys rocked up.”

The laughing died down as we collectively noticed how defensive Te Maire got.

“I’ll come, but I’ll just play the gat,” I said.

The girls looked at me in disbelief.

“Well, since none of our parents want to pay for any other club’s fees, at least with this we might be able to get off school and go on trips,” I reasoned.

Toni, who loves school and couldn’t imagine missing a day, scrunched her nose.

Ngāti

Illustrations by Emily Wharekura (Ngāti Kahungunu, Te Arawa) (she/her) CONTRIBUTING ARTIST

Mahara chirped in. “Fine, but only because I saw that another white school went to Hawaii last year for kapa haka.”

Te Maire was grinning ear to ear, staring at their cousin Toni, awaiting her confirmation.

“Well, I don’t want to be Nigel-no-mates, so I guess I’ll join too.”

Te Maire leapt into the air, ecstatic that they’d recruited three new members. They wrapped their arms around Toni warmly and kissed her on the cheek. “We need you cuz, you’re the only one of us that can actually sing.” The bell rang and we collected our things begrudgingly. We wandered back to class, anxious about what we’d just signed up to.

Every Wednesday lunchtime was kapa haka practice. The teacher leading us was Miss Pinkerton from South Africa. I guess because it was volunteer work, she was the teacher who had drawn the short straw. Like us, Miss Pinkerton did not want to be there. Te Maire mingled in between cliques and Miss Pinkerton set up an overhead projector with the lyrics to ‘Te Aroha’ barely legible under various fingerprint and grease smudges.

I slung the ombre blue school guitar over my shoulder and began tuning. Miss Pinkerton looked up from the projector and gushed.

“Well Rongo, if you can manage to learn this song, you might even be able to become our guitarist, although I am told by a friend of mine that Maowrees don’t usually allow girls to do such things. Mind you, I am a feminist, so power to you, girl!” I glanced over at Mahara and Toni who scoffed rather loudly.

For weeks, I watched as Mahara began to derail entire practices and take command of the group – teaching them songs and tikanga around kapa

haka. Miss Pinkerton was resistant at first but then quite boldly said one practice, “I suppose the kura kids should lead. That’s all they’ve learnt for the past thirteen years anyway.” Toni led most of the songs and began teaching everyone how to recognise their singing range. We’d gone from sounding worse than babies, to nearly having a bracket pulled together. We were working towards a performance at next month’s school gala.

After school, our gang would mainly talk about kapa haka. Whether it was watching other groups for inspiration or making up actions for our items, kapa haka became our lives. We’d all hate to admit it, but it became the best part of our weeks. It was almost like we were back at our old kura and we all finally felt like we belonged at our new school.

Meanwhile, Te Maire had taken a backseat during practices. Before we had joined, they talked about how they would sometimes have to lead despite having little knowledge about kapa haka. Mahara, Toni and I had thought that Te Maire's quietness was animosity because they no longer needed to lead, but I wondered if something else was going on.

One day at practice, I noticed when we split the group off into boys and girls that Te Maire remained sitting on the school hall floor. The boys filed out into the back field and the girls remained in the hall, twirling poi and practising the formations we’d created last week. I put the already tuned guitar back into its case and sat next to Te Maire. Sensing that something wasn’t right, I sat and waited – not saying a word. A few minutes went by, before Te Maire exhaled deeply.

Mahara came back inside the hall looking for a water bottle, red in the face from teaching the boys the haka. “What’s going on?” she mouthed. I shrugged.

As Mahara strolled closer to us, Te Maire began to stutter, “I think I’m going to quit kapa haka.”

Our eyes grew wide.

“What! Why?” asked an oblivious Mahara.

“I just don’t belong here,” Te Maire uttered.

Mahara interjected. “Well that’s bullshit. You’re Māori, of course you belong here.”

Te Maire shook their head. “Yous don't get it.”

Mahara rolled her eyes. “E tū, come help me outside. I don’t care if you don’t want to, I need your help.” Te Maire narrowed their eyes and glared up at Mahara. “Hurry up, bei!” Mahara scolded.

When the two of them got outside, Te Maire seemed to drop their shoulders and didn't seem as tense. In Mahara’s absence, the boys were fighting in the grass.

“Hoi hoi!” The leadership and confidence seemed to come effortlessly to Mahara. Te Maire stood off to the side awkwardly. “From the top, but this time fucking mean it, you assholes.” The boys respected Mahara and they did as they were told. To Te Maire’s surprise, it was Mahara leading the haka. Te Maire had never seen a woman holding that space, power and courage before. It almost moved them to tears.

As the group finished and held their squatted position, Mahara stood upright and ordered for the boys to do the same. She looked over at Te Maire. “Your turn mate,” she said encouragingly.

“What the fuck, hell no,” Te Maire cried.

One of the boys, a half-caste from Kai Tahu interjected. “Um, girls can’t lead the haka.”

“And who said that? I’ve led you fullas everytime,” replied Mahara.

“That’s tikanga,” said the boy, rather confidently.

“Kao, that’s colonisation. Plus, Te Maire isn’t a girl you dickhead. Now shut up before I thump you one,” Mahara hissed.

Te Maire had never explicitly ‘come out’ to us as irarere or gender fluid, but it was something their whānau had acknowledged and affirmed a few years ago and we as their friends had followed suit. It was no biggie, but it required a lot of allyship on their behalf.

Te Maire looked back into the hall where the multiple poi sounded like a stampede of horses, nodding at Mahara and the boys. They took their place in between the lines of shirtless, red-chested kaihaka and looked fiercely ahead. Mahara nodded in their direction and took her stance behind the group. By then, the rest of us girls had come outside to watch them haka, and join in if we knew the words.

“Taringa whakarongo!” Te Maire thundered. I nudged Toni, who was smiling with tears welling in her eyes. Continuing on, their eyes bulged. “Kia rite!” Toni and I moved behind the group, our hands automatically shimmering with wiri. Mahara moved from one side of the group to the other, almost mimicking a warrior, or a pūkeko.

“Kia rite!” Te Maire grew louder with each instruction and as the group grew more electric. Before delivering their next line, Te Maire looked back at Toni, Mahara and me. Their energy was brewing and intoxicating everyone around them, even the boy who had challenged them earlier.

“Kia mau!”

We all took our stance and the sky thundered as if it too were following Te Maire's command.

“Hī!”

We rumbled lowly together. In that moment, the world held its breath, as it listened and waited for Te Maire to take their place.

Five Trans & Non-Binary Artists

YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT

By Thomas Giblin (he/him) @thegreengiblin CULTURE & LIFESTYLE WRITER

In 2018, Counting Ourselves published a distressing study on trans and non-binary health in Aotearoa, informed by Kaupapa Māori. Dr Jaimie Veale, the study's principal investigator, states that "trans and non-binary people experienced levels of sexual violence more than four times higher than in the general population." Veale also highlights how "trans and non-binary people were nine times more likely to report high or very high psychological distress compared to the general population." These statistics are a reminder of the inequity the community faces both domestically and internationally.

For Debate's gender issue, we're celebrating five remarkable trans and non-binary artists from across the world. Despite what old man Winston Peters and American lawmakers are saying, these artists aren't going anywhere; they're ready to be heard louder than ever.

With her critically acclaimed third feature film Lingua Franca, Isabel Sandoval became the first out trans woman of colour to compete at the prestigious Venice Film Festival. She wrote, directed, produced and starred in the story of Olivia, an undocumented Filipina immigrant who works as a caregiver in New York. After the man she's secretly paying for a green card backs out, she becomes involved with a factory worker. He doesn't know that Olivia is a trans woman.

In exploring the nuanced dichotomy of gender identity in Trump's USA, Sandoval has emerged as "one of the most exciting and multi-talented filmmakers on the indie scene with a bold approach to cinematic style," according to the Criterion Collection. Her muted, yet sensual aesthetic evokes the works of directors Rainer Fassbinder, Ira Sachs and Claire Denis. Sandoval's favourite films include Wong Kar-wai's In the Mood for Love, Alain Resnais's Hiroshima mon amour, and Chantal Akerman's Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles

Her next feature, Tropical Gothic, is an allegory on Western colonialism, set in 16th-century Philippines. Hollywood news site Deadline states that it will focus on a "Native priestess who convinces her Spanish master that she is possessed by the spirit of his dead bride, in order to manipulate him into returning the farmland that the Spaniards seized from the native community.” I can't wait.

DJ Sprinkles is the persona of Terre Thaemlitz, who started her career spinning decks in 1980s New York. Unafraid to confront issues of gender, sexuality, race and class, her intoxicating meditative tracks aren't just deep house club bangers: the 1995 album Soil, for example, layers an account of domestic abuse over an electroacoustic soundtrack, and the 2012 epic 'Soulnessless' features the deeply arresting "Meditation On Wage Labor And The Death Of The Album (Sprinkles' Unpaid Overtime)" amongst nearly 30-hours of music.

DJ Sprinkles points out that the electronic music boom, which has seen the likes of Calvin Harris and David Guetta become household names, ignores the genre's roots in queer club culture. The events and spaces associated with such acts have become breeding grounds for heteronormativity. This discourse is at the core of DJ Sprinkles' musical practices, which is why this renegade genius deserves to be on your playlist over a bedroom disc jockey.

Isabel Sandoval

DJ Sprinkles

We’re All Going to the World’s Fair, Schoenbrun's first narrative feature film, harrowingly captures the trappings of an adolescent growing up online. When we’re young, we often form and find digital spaces away from our parents as we seek individualism and kinship. Often, these spaces are misunderstood or misrepresented, but in this lo-fi digital coming-of-age horror, Schoenbrun gets being 'online' right. We’re All Going to the World’s Fair captures what it's really like to explore the deep, dark recesses of the web -- isolated and anxious. The internet can be horrifying; creepy men lurk, and beheading videos are circulated, moulding us into the adults we are today. It then makes sense that Schoenbrun, who grew up on the internet, uses horror to explore the mythology of adolescence.

Schoenbrun says they wrote the film in a difficult place in their lives before they physically transitioned, stating in an interview that the internet was a "lifeline as a young queer kid, trying to figure themselves out online". The internet Schoenbrun grew up on was monumentally different to the one I know, but their earnest depiction of life online is an exhilarating experience that flags them as one of our most exciting contemporary filmmakers. As a teenager who was chronically online, it's exciting to see a filmmaker attempt to wrangle with what it is like to be bound to something as invisible as YouTube or Reddit. Their upcoming film I Saw the TV Glow, which A24 will distribute, is set to be released in the new year, so keep an eye out.

The Instagram bio of Ellie Kim, aka SuperKnova, reads, "Trans girl making guitar-driven, electronic pop music." Despite heady queer pop hits such as 'Islands' and 'Goals', the Asian American artist studied medicine and graduated with an MD in 2019. It was during her time at university that SuperKnova was born, as a way to process her emotions and to help her come out. Music was "a safe space to explore my identity," she says, and eventually, with the encouragement of her friend, SuperKnova found the courage to post her songs on Bandcamp. Her second album, American Queers, is on the list of all-time best sellers by trans artists on Bandcamp, and features my favourite track of hers: 'Power'.

A supernova is the biggest explosion humans have ever seen, so it's no surprise the artist embraces a bold and bright aesthetic. SuperKnova has said that "life is short -- you should do whatever the fuck you want". If that isn't how we should all aspire to live our lives, then I don't know what is.

You're likely familiar with Saleh if you're a fan of Netflix's hit sex comedy Sex Education. The show, known for its raunchy and progressive discussion of gender, body dysmorphia, queer sex and orgasms, introduces Saleh as Cal Bowman, Sex Education's first non-binary character, in its third season. Many may be surprised to hear that this is Saleh's first acting role - when they aren't trapped at a fictional English school, Saleh is a critically acclaimed multidisciplinary performing artist and musician. Their EPs Nūr and Rosetta, are welcome additions to a steadily growing canon of music that challenges the cis-heteropatriarchy. They sing in English and Arabic (Saleh is Sudanese American), further subverting the paradigm of western music culture. In not defining themselves as an artist bound to one language, one genre of music or one medium, Saleh is set to become a star.

Jane Schoenbrun SuperKnova

Dua Saleh

ENBIOUS

By Joel Armstrong (they/them) CONTRIBUTING WRITER

Disclaimer: I want to identify the privilege I have in the way that I dress, as opposed to a lot of other non-binary people that I know. My fashion choices may be slightly alternative at times, but are still mostly palatable for someone who’s assigned sex at birth is male. This is an internal dilemma that I am facing.

Although I’ve identified as non-binary for the past year or so, it wasn’t until recently that I started solely using they/ them pronouns. I originally started off safe, with a cute little he/they moment. That slowly developed into they/ he, before fully progressing into they/them.

However, I often look at those around me who are also non-binary, and feel a sense of envy and guilt. They just look so much more… non-binary than I do. It usually comes down to what I’m wearing. Other enby people pull off clothing that never fits perfectly – either raided from the kids section, or jeans held up a belt, with hems that scrape the floor. They’re wearing hats, scarfs and woollen mittens on the hottest of January days. They have haircuts straight out of Scott Pilgrim and boots that would probably be suitable to wear on the moon – they just look more genderqueer than I do. I dress like Drew Phillips in a Nana or Paradise Kiss world. That’s not to say Drew dresses badly – it’s just… different.

I need to be identified as the ‘other’, so that when I’m getting served at a cafe, the barista has to think twice before referring to me as ‘him’ or ‘them’.

I feel like I should completely change the way I dress, so that people take me seriously enough to identify as enby. It feels like I haven’t done enough to deserve people actually referring to me by my correct pronouns. But then again, which people? Who am I specifically trying to cater my gender identity to? For queer people who I’m friendly with – especially those who are also non-binary or under the general trans umbrella, they don’t care that I dress like a recently divorced dad on his way to a Foo Fighters concert with his best buddy Todd.

I still remember the first time someone referred to me as ‘they’ – it was subtle, but felt like chowing down on a chip butty after a long day at the pools as a kid. It was perfect.

Haydn Nixon (he/him) ILLUSTRATIONS

Living in a cis-normative world, where ‘feminine’ and ‘masculine’ are highly pushed onto the two primary sexes, I feel like I need to rebel against these ideologies. I need to be identified as the ‘other’, so that when I’m getting served at a cafe, the barista has to think twice before referring to me as ‘him’ or ‘them’. But realistically, gender doesn’t just boil down to what you wear – it’s an internal feeling. Sure, fashion can change how you want to be perceived by the world, but it isn’t the be-all and end-all of gender. Gender is a lot more intricate, beautiful and deep. I still remember the first time someone referred to me as ‘they’ – it was subtle, but felt like chowing down on a chip butty after a long day at the pools as a kid. It was perfect.

An idea I need to reinforce to myself is that I can just be. The thing I originally loved about coming out as gay, was that the expectations seemed to disappear. It became more socially acceptable to listen to whatever music I wanted to, explore fashion a little bit more, get piercings, and just truly be myself. Coming out as non-binary is no different – I shouldn’t feel compelled to dress a certain way. But if I do want to be a bit more adventurous (I would look sexy as fuck in a dress), I can do that too.

At the end of the day, do what your heart desires. I, like a lot of people, am tired of trying to cram into a box as a triangle, circle or hexagon. Be the shape, person and gender you want to be.

Make your spare time work harder for you, and your wallet.

- Be compensated up to $8,000 (before tax) - Free Wi-Fi, Netflix, PlayStation

- All meals provided

- Full health check

- Hang out with like-minded people

Get all this and more when you participate in a clinical trial with NZCR.

Our clinical trials involve an investigational drug and some study assessments.

Peter Pan is no ordinary boy - he’s a sexy boy!

Tickets: only $15 for students!

Funnier and more risqué than your childhood favourite, our magical, musical adventure will be a night you'll never forget!

events humanitix com/peter-pan-for-grown-ups

- Live Music by Beauty and the Beats - Variety

of Food & Drink

THURS 21 SEPT 5 – 7.30PM

69 St Georges Bay Rd

parnell.net.nz/food-truck-nite-23 for more info

The above event will proceed if there is light rain as there is undercover seating. However if the event is cancelled due to severe weather, the rain date is Thursday 28 September 5 – 7.30pm.

FILM SERIES

Sundance Film Festival: Short Film Tour 2023

Academy Cinemas

Thursday, September 28th

$14 student

A 90-minute program of seven short films curated from the 2023 Sundance lineup, including two award-winning titles. Sundance is considered by many to be the premier showcase for independent cinema and a testament to the unique storytelling of short films.

ART + MUSIC Art in the City | Pony Baby

Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki

Thursday, October 12th

Free!

Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki is hosting a rare performance by Pony Baby, the country music brainchild of Arahi (Te Matau-a-Māui) and Jazmine Mary (Gippsland, Australia) with drinks and access to free late-night exhibitions as part of Art in the City:

• Ever Present: First Peoples Art of Australia

• Gothic Returns: Fuseli to Fomison, and more.

• Aotearoa art from the collection, and more!

WHAT'S ON WHAT'S ON WHAT'S ON WHAT'S ON SEP - DEC 2023

FESTIVAL Branch Out Festival

Nikau St, Eden Terrace

Saturday, 7th October Free!

A free community event celebrating spring, the arts, local businesses and the vibrant city neighbourhood on the rise of Uptown, which will be home to the newly developed Maungawhau Station. Demonstrations, tastings, activities, workshops, and products for sale will be on offer from an incredible range of local Uptown businesses at the festival.

MUSIC FESTIVAL The Others Way

Karangahape Road

Friday, December 1st

$150

Auckland's beloved multi-venue music festival is back – featuring over 30 acts playing along the city's iconic Karangahape Road and its surrounds. This year, legendary Oakland hip hop group Souls of Mischief are headlining, joined by the finest local talent Herbs, The Veils, Marlin’s Dreaming and many more!

WHAT'S

MAKAURAU

ON WHAT'S ON WHAT'S ON AKL

TĀMAKI