| How I
got my first SMH byline as an act of homophobic
intimidation |
|
CHIPS
MACKINOLTY
Freelance writer |
As
is well known, there are a few
apologies
floating around over the events, and aftermath, of the
June 24, 1978
Gay Mardi Gras in Sydney. First The
Sydney Morning Herald, then
the Legislative Assembly of the NSW Parliament. An
apology from the
police force, we are told, will be a “whole of
government”
decision. I won’t hold my breath.
But
I did get my first naming in the SMH
in
the aftermath of the Mardi Gras violence. My first
byline, as it
were.
There
is a weird disjuncture here. The SMH
apology suggests that publishing the names, addresses
and occupations
of those arrested in the '78 Mardi Gras was, at the
time, some
sort of “standard procedure”. But that is utter
nonsense.
It
was simply never the case that the SMH
published,
as
a matter of "standard procedure", the names of the
hundreds of people a week arrested in Sydney in those
days. It’s
complete bullshit.
In
the last half of the 1970s I was arrested on a number of
occasions
over political actions.
Other
than June 24, 1978, my name was never
reported. Indeed, the SMH
(let alone the police) would have looked like proper
dills on the
occasion that I was arrested, under my own name, with 12
women who
gave their names as Emma Goldman. The SMH
certainly didn’t report this. The ghost of Emma Goldman
would have
smiled.
The
simple truth is that the publication of names, addresses
and
occupations at the time was a calculated effort by the
police, aided
and abetted by the SMH.
Each party was aware, at the time, of the effect it
would produce on
those named. Those effects have been attested to in the
last few days
by ’78ers, and include the suicide of some of those
named in the
SMH.
An apology from the SMH,
let alone the NSW police, should reflect the
catastrophic effects of
their actions.
Some
13 years later I became a stringer for Fairfax papers,
where I worked
for a decade, and have filed occasionally since then. I
got hundreds
of bylines subsequent to first being named in the SMH
in June 1978. I am proud of the work that I did for
papers such as
the SMH
and The
Age.
I was working with some of the best journalists of the
day, and the
SMH's
current editor-in-chief was one of them.
As
such, I have no animus towards Fairfax -- far from it. I
worked with
the best. But
the current “apology” from the SMH
doesn’t go far enough; there is a back story that
should be
acknowledged and, perhaps, explored
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Apology
to Mardi Gras 1978 Participants (Proof)
About this Item
|
Speakers
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|
Business
|
Business of the House
|
APOLOGY
TO MARDI GRAS 1978 PARTICIPANTS
Page:
2
Mr
BRUCE NOTLEY-SMITH (Coogee)
[10.16 a.m.]: I move:
That
this House:
(1) Notes the first Sydney Gay and Lesbian
Mardi Gras took place on 24 June 1978 when over 500 people
assembled
at Taylor Square for a public demonstration and march to
call for an
end of the criminalisation of homosexual acts, to
discrimination
against homosexuals and for a public celebration of love and
diversity.
(2) Notes the march proceeded down Oxford
Street to Hyde Park and then along William Street towards
Kings Cross
and that as the parade proceeded, patrons from nearby venues
joined
in and participants rose to over 2,000.
(3) Notes Police
forcibly broke up a peaceful demonstration, making over 50
arrests.
(4) Notes the Sydney
Morning Herald and The
Age published
the names, occupations and addresses of those at arrested,
indifferent to the likelihood that those named would
subsequently
become victims of discrimination and harassment.
(5)
Commends the tireless advocacy of the 78ers and their
supporters as
the upsurge of activism following the first Mardi Gras led
to the
1979 repeal of the Summary Offence Act, decriminalisation of
homosexuality in 1984 and contributed to an effective
community
response to the HIV epidemic.
(6) Acknowledges that the
Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras has as its foundation the
violence
and struggles of 24 June, subsequent and related protests in
1978 and
that Mardi Gras now attracts worldwide attention as a beacon
of
positive social change.
(7) Commends the work done by the
78ers for their advocacy around ensuring discrimination of
this kind
is not repeated, as well as raising awareness of the events
of
1978.
(8) Affirms an ongoing commitment to an inclusive
society and full respect for the rights of all LGBTIQ
citizens
protected in law.
(9) Places on record an apology to each
and every one of the 78ers from the Legislative Assembly for
the harm
and distress the events of 1978 have had on them and their
families
and for past discrimination and persecution of the LGBTIQ
community.
There
are doubtless many people across the State today who are
feel a sense
of anticipation that an event they have long hoped for is
finally
coming—that a parliament of the people has set aside some of
its
time to deal with a motion such as the one before us.
Equally without
doubt, there will be many who believe that I am wasting this
Parliament's time. Everybody has a right to their opinion
and the
best opinions are well-informed ones. Few people know the
origins of
the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras and fewer still know
what it
was like to be gay or lesbian in the 1970s.
Try for a
short time to imagine you are a young teenager, a member of
a happy,
loving—successful even—large family. Your parents shower you
with
unconditional love, as do your grandparents, aunts and
uncles. Your
home is always full of people—your brothers, their friends,
your
friends, your relatives and your neighbours. Your parents'
highest
priority is your health and happiness and that you will find
success
in whatever you choose to do—that you will stumble along the
way
but that they will be there to assist. From those failures
you will
learn humility and come to understand the value of hard work
and
persistence, combined with good manners, respect and empathy
for
others. A good life awaits you.
Imagine that as that young
teenager you had a sense that there was something about you.
Was it a
feeling? Was it an urge? It is something you just cannot
quite put
your finger on or nail and it has been growing and growing
relentlessly for a few years now. It threatened who you
thought you
were and what was your place in the world. Most
disturbingly, it
appeared somewhat similar to that affliction suffered by
those sick
criminals spoken of on radio, seen on television, written
about in
newspapers, joked about and pitied by all in your world—the
homosexual. As a teenager the term "homosexual" sounded so
sinister and sick. If it were true, if it was what those
feelings
actually amounted to, there would be no place for you in the
world
you comfortably inhabited. You would be expelled from your
family,
detested by your friends, a criminal to the justice system
and a
sinner to the church. Life would be over.
On
24 June 1978 those are the feelings that were running
through my
14-year-old head. How can I be so sure? Because those were
the
thoughts that filled my brain all that year, years before
and years
beyond. That night of 24 June would also have been my
youngest
brother Anthony's tenth birthday had he not been hit by a
car and
killed three years earlier. Anthony's death had shaken our
family to
the core, and made us closer and stronger. So that night the
cloak of
melancholy weighed even more heavily on my teenage
shoulders. So as I
drifted off to sleep that evening, eager for sleep to
relieve me from
this daily torment, across town there was assembling a group
of
people—many of them those sick and perverse people that I
saw
regularly on the telly. They were about to set in motion a
series of
events that would change the course of history and change
the way
vulnerable 14-year-old boys and girls would value their
worth and
their prospects in life in the years ahead. I am told by
those that
assembled in Taylor Square on that cold night that the
atmosphere was
electric—a march down Oxford Street calling for the end to
the
criminalisation of homosexual acts, demanding equality
before the law
and respect from the community. [Extension
of time agreed to.]
But
this march was to be different. Ron Austin suggested at a
meeting
where the march was being planned that participants should
dress up
in colourful fancy dress—the more outrageous the better. The
meeting agreed and a name was suggested. This was not to be
any old
protest march—this was to be the Gay Mardi Gras. The march
set off
down Oxford Street and continued into College Street
gathering
hundreds, maybe thousands, along the way. One of the chants
was: "Out
of the bars and into the streets", as supporters left their
drinks behind in the many venues along the way and joined in
the
parade. The march took on a momentum of its own and now, too
big to
disperse, it headed up William Street to Kings Cross. There,
hemmed
in by the police, the parade turned into a riot. Fifty-three
arrests
were made and many participants assaulted. It was such a
disappointing end to something that started out so joyously.
In
the days, weeks and months to come, as those arrested
appeared in
court, their names published in the Fairfax media, many were
ostracised from their family, dumped by their friends and
sacked by
their employers, not for being arrested but because they
were
homosexual. For the mistreatment you suffered that evening,
as a
member of this Parliament who oversaw the events of that
night, I
apologise and I say sorry. As a member of the Parliament
which
dragged its feet in the decriminalisation of homosexual
acts, I
apologise and say sorry. And as a proud gay man and member
of
Parliament offering this apology I say thank you. The
actions you
took on 24 June 1978 have been vindicated. The pain and
suffering
meted out to you on that night and afterwards was
undeserved. On that
evening you lit a flame of the gay rights movement in Sydney
that
burned its way to law reform and societal acceptance. To the
78ers I
say sorry but also thank you.Members
stood
in acclamation.Mr
JOHN ROBERTSON (Blacktown)
[10.27 a.m.]: I speak with pride in supporting this motion.
I do so
because today is a significant event for so many. It is
important
that we acknowledge what happened almost 38 years ago—in
fact,
three months from now it will be 38 years ago. It is
important for a
number of reasons, not least of which is what happened on
that
evening of 24 June 1978. It is important because we should
talk about
it, particularly for young people. For young people there is
almost
an acceptance of the rights that exist for people in the
lesbian,
gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex and questioning
[LGBTIQ]
community. But those rights, like so many, are hard fought
for, and
were hard fought for by the 78ers. They were hard fought for
on that
night that ended in what can only be described as the
vicious bashing
of so many people who merely sought to stake their claim for
equality
and to be treated just like everybody else in our society.
Those
people stood up at a time when people were bashed because
they were
suspected of being homosexuals; at a time when it was a
legal defence
to say, "I was suffering from gay panic"; and at a time
when homosexuality was a crime in this State. Those people
demonstrated courage and conviction as they stood up and
said, "We
are people just like everyone else. We love like everybody
else and
we deserve to be treated just like everyone else." It was at
a
different time, but that in no way accepts the treatment
that was
meted out to people at that time or before. As the
Parliament
apologises to the 78ers, I read in the Sydney Morning
Herald this
morning that it also has apologised. I am not sure how
others felt
but I felt a slight disappointment with that apology. As I
read it, I
felt there was some qualification in it, that that was how
the media
at the time reported those events. To me, the apology did
not feel
like it was unqualified. I am proud that this Parliament is
giving an
unqualified, unreserved apology to the 78ers.
We
recognise that change is achieved only through activism and
having
the courage to stand up. We should be thankful because the
78ers have
achieved something significant. I now mention the
significant changes
that have occurred. The Summary Offences Act was repealed,
which was
the justification in 1978 for the arrest of the 78ers; the
New South
Wales Labor Council threw its support behind homosexual law
reform in
1980; in 1984 this Parliament decriminalised homosexuality;
it
recognised same-sex relationships; the Property
(Relationships)
Legislation Amendment Bill was introduced, which recognised
same-sex
couples in a whole range of legislation; workers
compensation laws
were changed; this Parliament made changes to recognise
mothers as
legal parents of children born through donor insemination;
in 2010
the Attorney General announced that the State Government
would
introduce legislation for a statewide relationships register
and
introduced a bill that was approved in this Chamber by a
vote of 62:9
on 11 May 2010; same-sex adoption was legalised in September
2010,
and I was proud to participate in that debate in the other
place; and
the Federal Parliament removed discriminatory laws against
the
lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex [LGBTI]
community.
[Extension
of time agreed to.]
Amendments
have been made to 85 laws in the Commonwealth Parliament
that have
changed the way the LGBTI community is treated, whether it
is tax,
superannuation, social security, family assistance, the
Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme, the Medicare levy or aged
care.
Changes have been made to child support laws, immigration,
citizenship laws, veterans affairs laws, employment law and
family
law. All that was achieved because of the activism of the
78ers who
set in train a program for reform to see progress made so
that
members of the LGBTI community could feel they were
genuinely part of
our community. While apologising today, I also want to thank
the
78ers. I do so as the parent of a son who has had the
benefit and the
privilege of going to school and feeling free to be who he
really is,
not having to feel like he has to hide who he is. He was
supported by
his teachers and fellow students who acknowledged him. They
embraced
him and are friends with him today, despite what he is.
While
much has been achieved, there is much more to do. It is
important to
talk about this today so that we motivate young people, not
only
those from the LGBTI community but also young people across
our State
and nation. Right now there are two things that are
disturbing.
First, the Safe Schools program is now under some form of
investigation by the Federal Parliament. It is sad because
the
program is about stamping out bullying and breaking down
ignorance so
everyone can feel that they are a part of our community. It
is a
program to stop the bigotry that we still witness. My son
says there
are still parts of Sydney that he does not feel safe walking
around.
The Safe Schools program is important because it is about
making
people understand that their ignorance or some jibe yelled
out from
across the street or down the road makes people feel unsafe
and
no-one should feel unsafe. Our schools are the right place
to
implement the anti-bullying programs. We should be proud to
support
the Safe Schools program. We should be encouraging more
people to
undertake that program so that we no longer have the
ignorance and
bigotry that led to the behaviour we saw in 1978.
The
second disturbing thing relates to that old
chestnut—same-sex
marriage. I want my son to enjoy same-sex marriage, if he so
chooses.
I want everyone, regardless of who they are, to be able to
enjoy the
benefits that we all enjoy, if they so choose. It will
happen, but it
will happen only when we talk about what the 78ers did and
what
achievements they made. We must continue our campaign and
our
activism on the ground to dispel any ignorance. Ignorance is
what has
led us to this debate. Marriage is a construct that did not
exist in
our churches and religious systems until the fifteenth and
sixteenth
centuries. Prior to that, marriage was a civil ceremony that
some
people chose to have blessed in a church. It was not until
the latter
part of the sixteenth century that the churches decided they
would
get on board and sanctify marriage. It is a human construct
and not
many people know that. Therefore, people's ignorance of that
fact has
led us to this debate.
We
will continue to campaign on same-sex marriage because it is
a great
and outstanding injustice for the LGBTI community. The sky
will not
fall in. Our society will not change for the worst; our
society will
change for the better. I can say that confidently because in
1978 the
same arguments were being advanced: "These people are not
normal; if we recognise this, it will all end." Almost 38
years
later we have seen where it ends. We have a society that is
more
inclusive and we enjoy much from some in our community who
contribute
more than others. We should be prepared to stand up and say
that
everyone deserves the right to get married, if they choose,
but we
should not sit in this place and say, "We will decide how
you
behave and whether you publicly state your love for someone
else and
have it recognised and acknowledged in a ceremony." On
behalf of
the Opposition the member for Coogee and I apologise to the
78ers.
More importantly, I say thank you. Thank you for standing up
for what
was right and has proven to be right. To all the young
people in the
gallery I say, "Stand up and keep fighting. Stand up and
continue your activism, because right will always win
out."TEMPORARY
SPEAKER
(Ms Melanie Gibbons): Order!
I inform people in the gallery that it is common practice in
the New
South Wales Parliament that no videos or photographs be
taken of
parliamentary proceedings. Today we will turn a blind eye
and allow
photographs to be taken. However, videotaping the
proceedings is not
permitted.
Mr
ALEX GREENWICH (Sydney)
[10.38 a.m.]: I acknowledge the leaders, elders and allies
of the
lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex [LGBTI]
community in
the gallery today and those watching this on the web stream
at home.
I also acknowledge the leadership of the member for Coogee
for moving
this motion; the Government for prioritising this motion
today before
the Mardi Gras festival and parade begins; and the
cross-party
working group, which includes members from The Nationals,
the Liberal
Party, the Labor Party, The Greens and Independents who have
worked
together to make this motion happen. Indeed, our Federal
politicians
could learn a lot from us about working together to achieve
important
reforms.
Many
78ers who participated in that peaceful march, which ended
in
brutality from government agencies, could not imagine back
then a day
when we would have two openly gay members of Parliament
sitting on
either side of this Chamber and delivering a formal apology
on behalf
of this Parliament for what happened to them. Indeed, we are
doing
that in the oldest, longest-running Parliament in the
Commonwealth.
The New South Wales Parliament is also the gayest parliament
in
Australia. It has more gay and lesbian members than any
Australian
Parliament, with members from the lower House and upper
House all
listening to the debate today, which is wonderful. We are
all here
because of the 78ers—because of their bravery, courage and
sacrifice. They continue to inspire us to advocate for
lesbian, gay,
bisexual, transgender and intersex [LGBTI] communities and
to work
towards fairer and more equal laws. Just like the Sydney Gay
and
Lesbian Mardi Gras parade, our work has at its foundation
the pain
and struggles of the 78ers. The 78ers have used the
positivity of the
rally, in which thousands participated, and the trauma that
followed
to advance fairness and acceptance.
In 1978, being gay had
social and economic risks. Parents disowned their gay and
lesbian
kids, and employers fired LGBTI people. Gay homosexual sex
was
illegal. There were significant and devastating
repercussions for the
53 people who were arrested that night and who had their
names,
addresses and occupations published in the Sydney
Morning Herald.
People lost their jobs and their families. Barbarella
Karpinski, who
I believe is here today, was only a teenager when she was
arrested,
and her outing meant that she could no longer see her
nieces, nephews
and other family members. Her parents were also maligned for
supporting her. [Extension
of time agreed to.]
The
78ers report that police targeted women and the most
vulnerable.
Sandi Banks, who I understand is also here today, described
heavy
bruising across her chest and arms that lasted for weeks.
Laurie
Steele, one 78er who was arrested, left Australia soon after
charges
were dropped in court and did not return until 2006. Many
others
suffered, and I hope that this apology will encourage more
people to
tell their stories. I am very sorry that some of the 78ers
are not
around to hear this apology today. I am proud to represent
the inner
city areas of Darlinghurst, Surry Hills and Kings Cross,
which
were—and still are—the heart of the LGBTI communities and
welcomed gay men and lesbians. But that was not enough to
protect
them when discrimination was rife and lawful. The brutality
that took
place on that evening in 1978 on members of the LGBTI
community shows
what can happen when a society and the law treat a group of
people as
inferior and, as a result, provide fewer protections. Where
the law
is not equal, people will always be at risk of being treated
as
lesser citizens and things can get out of hand, as they did
in
1978.
It was not just in 1978 that police turned on
peaceful demonstrators; there was a long history of
homophobia and
violence during the 1980s and 1990s in Sydney. This included
gay
bashings, hate crimes and murders, with police involved in
entrapment, abuse, victimisation and cover-ups. I welcome
the work of
Superintendent Tony Crandell of Surry Hills Local Area
Command for
advancing police relations with LGBTI communities. He and
police in
other inner city commands are building trust by working with
LGBTI
communities. But that has not always been the case, and that
is why
we are here today. My good friend Lance Day—another 78er who
is in
the gallery today—tells me he had a gay friend who was a
police
officer there that night. The whole thing was too much for
him and he
applied for a transfer as he was petrified that the force
would find
out he was gay and would have him sacked.
The struggle of
the 78ers has helped achieve so much but I know that those
who
suffered want this apology to be more than a ceremonial
sorry; they
want this apology to be a turning point that leads to full
equality
by the law. I commit to those 78ers and to the LGBTI
community that I
am dedicated to achieving reforms, including removal of
discrimination against LGBTI people, to transgender and
intersex
reforms, and to marriage equality. I support the motion. As
the
member for Sydney who represents the area in which this
brutality
occurred on that night in 1978, I extend my apology to the
78ers and
my thanks to them for their sacrifice and courage that
continues to
inspire me and others to achieve reforms in this place. I
thank the
78ers for using that experience to make this State fairer
and more
accepting of LGBTI people. Again, I am sorry and I thank
them.Mr
GARETH WARD (Kiama—Parliamentary
Secretary) [10.45 a.m.]: The fight for social change and
social
justice has often made the most ordinary people become
heroes. They
were ordinary people until a moment in time changed them;
emotions
moved them to be more than simply ordinary. William
Wilberforce,
Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Rosa Parks and Charles Perkins all
either
confronted or experienced injustice and pain. It was these
experiences combined with fortitude and character that gave
them the
tools to be much more than simply ordinary people; it gave
them the
courage to stand up in order to make the world a more
tolerant and
accepting place.
On 24 June 24 1978, more than 500
activists took to Taylor Square in Darlinghurst in support
and
celebration of New York's Stonewall movement and to call for
an end
to criminalisation of homosexual acts and discrimination
against
homosexuals. The peaceful movement ended in violence and
public
shaming at the hands of the police, government and media.
When the
marchers moved from Taylor Square to Hyde Park, the police
confiscated their truck and sound system in spite of a
permit being
issued for the rally. The crowd began to move towards Kings
Cross.
Once there, the police swooped in, blocking the dispersing
crowd and
throwing people into paddy wagons. The crowd fought back and
53 were
subsequently charged at Darlinghurst police station. In the
words of
Ken Davis:
You
could hear them in Darlinghurst police station being beaten
up and
crying out from pain. The night had gone from nerve-wracking
to
exhilarating to traumatic all in the space of a few hours.
The police
attack made us more determined to run Mardi Gras the next
year.
Although
most charges were eventually dropped, the Sydney
Morning Herald shamefully
published the names, occupations and addresses of those
arrested in
full, outing many and causing some to lose their jobs.
Protests and
arrests continued throughout 1978. On 15 July more than
2,000 gay
men, lesbians and supporters took part in the largest gay
rights
rally that had been held. The police responded by arresting
14
activists. On 27 August gay men and lesbians tried to join
up with a
Right to Life rally after attending the fourth National
Homosexual
Conference and 104 people were arrested. In all, 178 were
arrested in
the Mardi Gras and subsequent protests. The protracted court
cases
for the arrestees and ongoing protests served to engage a
huge number
of additional people in the cause of gay rights—galvanising
the
movement for gay law reform and the right for the community
to
protest in the streets.
Having been born with a
disability, I know what it is like to feel discrimination—to
be
treated in a manner that falls far short of what anyone
would
consider acceptable. These experiences remind me that whilst
law
reform is essential, attitudes must also change. History
tells us
that so often change is slow and painful, but it does not
make the
cause any less important. Representing a regional
electorate, I know
that many lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex, and
queer
people [LGBTIQ], and particularly young people, still feel
isolated,
afraid and alone. Tragically, sexual orientation is still a
cause for
youth suicide, sometimes prompted by the intolerance and
callousness
of peers and even family. I am sure those gathering in
support of
equality on 24 June 1978 had no clue about what was to
follow on that
chilly winter evening, but they should feel proud that their
brave
actions led to a freer and more confident society. [Extension
of time agreed to.]
Like
those who had pioneered social change and progress before
them, their
actions led to this Parliament acting after many years of
discrimination and even vilification. In my inaugural speech
in this
place I described myself as a classic liberal. I believe in
the
rights of individuals; I believe in personal liberties and
choice; I
believe that every person is best placed to make decisions
about
their life; and today I believe this Parliament owes a deep,
sincere
and unreserved apology for the treatment of people who could
see the
light would shine in the darkness and the darkness had not
overcome
it.
NSW
Parliament apologises toMardi Gras '78ers
Thu
25th Feb, 2016 in Local
News
New
South Wales’ Parliament has today apologised to each and
every
1978 Sydney
Mardi Gras protester
for the ill treatment they suffered almost 38 years ago.
The
apology, which was brought forward by out gay Liberal
member of
Coogee Bruce
Notley-Smith,
had cross-party support and moved through both houses of
NSW
legislature without disapproval by any MP.
All
MPs present, including Premier Mike
Baird and
everyone in the packed public gallery, rose to their
feet with cheers
and applause after the apology was read out. There were
tears from
some of the ‘78ers present, who had waited a long time
for the
state to express its regret at what had happened to them
all those
years ago.
“The
first Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras took place on 24
June 1978
when over 500 people assembled at Taylor Square for a public
demonstration and march to call for an end of the
criminalisation of
homosexual acts, to discrimination against homosexuals and
for a
public celebration of love and diversity,” the apology
began.
“The
march proceeded down Oxford Street to Hyde Park and then
along
William Street towards Kings Cross – as the parade
proceeded,
patrons from nearby venues joined in and participants rose
to over
2,000. Police forcibly broke up a peaceful demonstration,
making over
50 arrests.
”[NSW’s
Parliament] places on record an apology to each and every
one of the
‘78ers from the Legislative Assembly for the harm and
distress the
events of 1978 have had on them and their families and for
the past
discrimination and persecution of the LGBTIQ community.”
The
‘78ers were also officially commended by NSW Parliament for
their
advocacy around ensuring discrimination of this kind is not
repeated.
Several
MPs and ‘78ers mentioned today that a formal apology by
NSW Police
for their brutality in dealing with the protestors is
also necessary.
In particular, the Greens’ Jenny
Leong put
descriptions of police brutality on the record and noted
“an
apology from the NSW police has not yet been forthcoming
and that is
one part of righting these wrongs that must occur.
“This
is a living apology. It’s the start of a commitment to
ensure our
laws continue progressing to treat LGBTI people fairly,” she
said.
“In making this apology in Parliament today, we need to
ensure
these kinds of events never again repeat, by making sure our
laws are
equal.”
Out
gay Sydney MP Alex
Greenwich said
he was grateful to the ‘78ers for helping to bring about
the
changes in society needed for us now to have “the gayest
Parliament
in Australia.”
“We
have more gay and lesbian members than any parliament in
Australia
has ever had,” he said proudly. “And we are all here
because
of your bravery.
You used the positivity of the march and the trauma that
followed to
advance the rights of gay and lesbian people around
Australia.”
After
the apology, Labor MP John
Robertson rose
to mention that he’s proud that his gay son is embraced
and
welcomed at his school.
“Our
schools are the place for programs like Safe Schools which
breaks
down ignorance and bigotry which we had in 1978,” he noted.
“So
I rise to apologise, and I rise to say thank you. To the
young people
here, stand up and continue your activism. Right will always
win
out.”
NSW
Government apologises for ill treatment of protesters at
Sydney’s
first Mardi Gras in 1978
FEBRUARY
26, 201610:48AM
Police
violently arresting participants during the Mardi Gras, Day
of
International Gay Solidarity, June 24 1978. Picture: Ross
Macarthur
or John Cousins for Campaign magazine / Australian Lesbian
and Gay
Archives
WHEN
Steve Warren went bounding out of the pub to join a
street party in
the heart of Sydney the only thing on his mind was
being part of an
impromptu celebration.
Yet
by the end of the night, he would find himself in the centre
of a
full-blown riot, listening powerless as his friends cried
out,
desperate for help.
“It
had been a great night, and then the police stared grabbing
people
and throwing them,” Mr Warren told news.com.au. “People were
screaming … we didn’t know why they were doing it.”
The
events of that night, when police arrested more than 50
people in
Kings Cross, allegedly beating many of them, would change
the face of
Sydney forever.
Today,
almost 40 years later, the NSW Government officially
apologised for
the discrimination they suffered at Sydney’s first Mardi
Gras in
1978.
For
some, it’s too little, too late and means nothing unless the
police
themselves apologise for their actions.
Mr
Warren was just 21 when he became involved in the
demonstration that
would lead to Sydney’s now world-famous gay and lesbian
Mardi Gras
parade, which this year takes over the city’s streets on
Sunday,
March 5.
It
was June 24, 1978 and Mr Warren, who was a budding rock
musician, was
having a drink after a day that had already involved a rally
at
Sydney Town Hall to protest against the continued
criminalisation of
homosexuality in NSW despite, by that time, it being legal
in a
number of other states.
Morning
march for the Day of International Gay Solidarity,
June 24 1978.
Picture: Ross Macarthur or John Cousins for Campaign
magazine /
Australian Lesbian and Gay ArchivesSource:Supplied
‘People
were screaming … we didn’t know why they were doing
it.’Source:NewsLocal
‘OUT
OF THE BARS, ONTO THE STREETS’
That
night, a group of revellers decided to amble down Oxford
Street, then
— as it is now — the heart of the city’s gay community.
“They
were yelling ‘out of the bars, onto the streets’ and a drag
queen
called Trixie Le Bon led us all down the stairs and that’s
how we
ended up in the parade,” he said.
“It
was initially really fun with no dramas, but when we got to
Hyde
Park, the police confiscated the only float and dragged my
friend
Lance out of the truck and tried to arrest him.”
The
crowd swiftly decided to head towards Kings Cross, where
another
clutch of gay bars and more people to join the march could
be found.
But
they were walking into a trap. With hindsight, said Mr
Warren, the
signs were there. Police cars had been spotted “flying down”
nearby streets while some people had remarked that the
officers
weren’t wearing their badges displaying their ID numbers.
“That
was usually a bad sign, once the numbers were off people
knew it was
going to turn ugly,” he said.
Before
long, the marchers were surrounded. “The police started
grabbing
people, pulling them into paddy wagons. Throwing them hard
against
the metal walls of the vans and slamming the doors, often on
people’s
hands.
“There
were people lying on the ground, there were steel bins being
thrown
left, right and centre, it was pandemonium. It was violent
and it
really was a riot in the end.
“I
was young and I didn’t understand why the state was reacting
that
way to people,” he said.
“It
was a contradiction, we could walk down Oxford Street, happy
and
skipping, even interacting with police, but if you left
Oxford Street
it was a completely different story.”
Mr
Warren dodged the blows and headed towards the relative
safety of
Oxford Street. On the way he passed Darlinghurst Police
Station where
53 people, arrested during the march, were being held.
“You
could hear screams from the police station, people yelling
and
calling out from inside the cells. There was one person who
was
bashed by the police, his ribs were damaged and he was all
bruised.”
People
outside put enough money into a hat for bail to get most
of the group
out of jail. But the trauma was far from over with the Sydney
Morning Herald subsequently
publishing the details of those arrested, leading many
to suffer
harassment and even lose their jobs.
On
Wednesday, Fairfax Media apologised for the decades-old
coverage.
Openly
gay Liberal MP for Coogee, Bruce Notley-Smith, delivered
today’s
apology in the NSW Parliament. Talking to news.com.au he
said the
hostility gay people once faced shouldn’t be forgotten.
Steve
Warren was just 21 and in a rock band when he found
himself in the
middle of a riot in Sydney’s Kings Cross.Source:Supplied
Bruce
Notley-Smith, pictured with Coco Jumbo and Krystal
Kleer, made the
official apology in Parliament. Picture: John
AppleyardSource:News
Corp Australia
“Marching
on the street was an incredibly brave thing to do but no one
would
have expected the parade to end in such violence.
“We
should recognise the profound events of that night in June
1978 had
on the lives of not only those people who were arrested but
also the
major influence it had on the subsequent liberation of
lesbian, gay,
bisexual, transgender and intersex (LGBTI) people.”
Asked
if it would have been an even greater sign of acceptance if
the NSW
Premier Mike Baird had made the apology, Mr Notley-Smith
said it
wasn’t for him to dictate who should talk in Parliament.
Mardi
Gras is now one of the world’s most well-known
festivals visited by
stars such as Kylie Minogue. Picture: Dan
Boud/Destination
NSWSource:Supplied
‘APOLOGY
IS TOO LITTLE TOO LATE’
Many
of the cases were later thrown out of court, particularly
when TV
footage came to light which appeared to show police as the
aggressors. A month later people once again marched along
Oxford
Street and, once again, clashed with police.
When
protesters tried to attend a number of the court
appearances, Mr
Warren said “police barricaded the courthouse, it was just
insane
what was going on”.
Mr
Warren, who, along with the others that marched that day are
collectively known as ‘78ers’, acknowledged a number of
LGBTI
people view the apology as hollow.
“For
some the apology is too little too late, for some it’s
lacking
because there is not a direct apology from the police and it
certainly doesn’t take away the hurt we went through. But
it’s a
good first step and it’s important to acknowledge the
struggle.”
In
a statement to news.com.au, a NSW Police spokesman confirmed
the
force would not apologise in their own right.
“At
this time this is a matter for consideration by the whole
Government.
However, NSW Police has developed rewarding relationships
with
members and stakeholders within LGBTI communities,” the
statement
read.
The
force pointed to the more than 200 officers that have
signed to the
Gay and Lesbian Liaison Officer program.
The
protest became an annual rally which is now known as Mardi
Gras.
Officially backed by the NSW Government, and big name
sponsors
including Qantas and ANZ, the festival is estimated to pump
almost
$40 million into the state’s economy.
Steve
Warren (second from right) pictured with other 78ers —
the people
who were at the first Mardi Gras, and Sydney Lord
Mayor Clover Moore
(third from left). Picture: supplied.Source:Supplied
‘WE
HAVE ACHIEVED PLENTY’
Homosexuality
was legalised in NSW by the Wran Government in 1984.
Tasmania would
become the last state to do so as recently as 1997.
There
were still battles to be fought, Mr Warren said, pointing to
a recent
spate of gay bashings in Sydney, the opposition to the
LGBTI-focused
Safe Schools program, and the upcoming plebiscite on
marriage
equality, “which the government doesn’t even have to act
upon”.
“As
Mardi Gras approaches, we do think back and they’re not good
memories but when you start going up Oxford Street it really
hits you
what we’ve achieved,” he said.
“It’s
ironic that we had to go through such an awful struggle to
lead us
somewhere that is really positive.”
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CALLS
MOUNT FOR NSW POLICE TO APOLOGISE TO 78ERS
FEB25
LAST
UPDATED
// THURSDAY, 25 FEBRUARY 2016 15:47WRITTEN BY // Cec
Busby
The
pressure is mounting for NSW Police to issue an apology to
the 78ers
– the first participants of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi
Gras –
following an historic apology by members of the NSW
Legislative
Assembly this morning.
The
parliamentary apology follows an apology by Fairfax media
for
publishing the names and addresses of the 53 people arrested
at the
protest march on June 24 1978.
Greens
member for Newtown Jenny Leong described the parliamentary
apology as
significant but said there was more to come.
“I
think it’s clear what we’ve seen today is an amazing step
forward
– but there is one party remaining that hasn’t apologised –
that is the NSW police," Leong said.
“I
think it was pretty clear from the response in the chamber
today that
everyone recognises that that is an apology that is
outstanding and
I commit to that. We need to recognise that the wrongs of
the past
need to be acknowledged and that includes wrongs
acknowledged by all
those who are perpetrators of the violence." said Leong at
a
press conference following the histioric apology.
“The
obvious and necessary step is for an apology to be issued by
the NSW
police. Until this is done, all the positive work being
undertaken
through LGBTIQ liaison officers and community outreach at
events like
Mardi Gras and Wear it Purple Day will not be able to
achieve their
full potential.
“I
am calling on the NSW Police Commissioner Andrew Scipione to
recognise the violence and intimidation perpetrated by NSW
police on
June 24, 1978 and offer a formal apology to all 78ers for
the hurt
and suffering caused by the actions of NSW police,” she
said.
PHOTOS
Sydney
Mardi Gras: NSW Government apologises to first generation of
protesters
25.2.2016
The
New South Wales Government has offered an apology to
participants in
Sydney's first ever Mardi Gras, who were arrested and
bashed by
police when attempting to parade in 1978.
After
they were arrested, many of the protesters had their names,
addresses
and professions published in the press.
In
all, 53 people were arrested and many were savagely beaten
by police.
On
Thursday morning, Liberal MP Bruce Notley-Smith delivered
the
Government's apology.
"You
were the game changers."
Liberal
MP Bruce Notley Smith
"We
recognise that you were ill-treated, you were mistreated,
you were
embarrassed and shamed, and it was wrong," he said.
"I
hope it's not too late that you can accept an apology but
also we
want to recognise that for all of that pain that you went
through,
you brought about fundamental change in this society and
fundamental
change for the many gay and lesbian people like myself, who
can be
open and relaxed about ourselves.
"You
were the game changers."
He
continued: "For the mistreatment you suffered that evening,
as a
member of this Parliament, who oversaw the events of that
night, I
apologise, and I say sorry.
"As
a member of a parliament that dragged its feet on the
decriminalisation of homosexual acts I apologise."
The
apology received a long round of applause from the public
gallery,
which was filled with some of the activists who took part in
the
march.
Former
opposition leader John Robertson said it was an important
moment.
"Because
we should talk about it, particularly for young people,"
he told parliament.
"For
young people, there is almost an acceptance of the rights
that
exist for people from the LGBTIQ community."
He
said the Herald's apology did not seem to be unqualified.
'I
thought I was going to die'
In
just over a week, Sydney's world famous Gay and Lesbian
Mardi Gras
will once more turn parts of Sydney into a celebration of
diversity.
But
almost four decades ago, things got off to a very different
start.
Peter
Murphy was 25 and still struggles to speak about what
happened the
night after he was thrown into a police van and taken back
to the
Darlinghurst police station.
"I
was singled out and bashed, thoroughly. There were just two
police
present and only one of them beat me," he said.
"He
would have kept going, except the other guy finally said
stop.
"So
I was convulsing at the time he said 'stop'. I thought I was
going to
die."
Diane
Minnis was 26 at the time, a part of the gay solidarity
group.
She
described the police as "whaling in" on the that first
group of marchers, who became known as the "78ers".
"They
were huge blokes and they were just grabbing people,
throwing them
bodily into paddy wagons and smashing people.
"It
was carnage."
After
the mass arrests, Ms Minnis joined a large group of people
outside
the Darlinghurst police station.
"We
sang 'We Shall Overcome' and people that were inside said
they could
hear it and it gave them some courage.
"But
what we didn't know is how badly Peter Murphy was bashed in
the cells
at that stage."
Sally
Abrahams from Yamba in northern NSW was in Sydney in 1978.
She
entered several gay nightclubs after the melee broke out and
asked
for the music to be turned off so she could call for help
over the
loud speakers.
"I
was determined not to be arrested, but my girlfriend at the
time, I
watched her being bashed and thrown into the back of a paddy
wagon,"
she said.
"I
announced what was happening at the nightclubs and asked if
there
were any lawyers to come and please help us, because there
were
people being beaten up and harmed, and there were quite a
few people
who came with me.
"It's
worth noting that all of the charges were eventually dropped
against
everybody because we didn't do anything wrong, it was the
police's
behaviour that was terrible."
Writer
David Marr said he went to the court on the Monday morning
following
the arrests, which had been barricaded by police despite
orders from
the magistrate to let the public in.
"It
was a wild day on the Monday as well as on the Saturday
night,"
he told 702 ABC Sydney.
"The
coppers hated the poofs, they hated them. And they hated the
lesbians
perhaps even more than that."
Marr,
who wrote extensively on the events of that weekend, said
the police
used paddy wagons to encircle the last of the marchers
before beating
and arresting them.
"They
grabbed the woman by their breasts, by their hair...they
dragged them
along the road by their hair," he said.
"It
was the first bit of gay journalism I did and I was
terrified even at
that."
Police
made reform inescapable: David Marr
Mr
Marr said that reform, including the legalisation of
sexuality,
became inevitable after that weekend.
Sydney
"could not believe the hate that was in the air that night."
"When
the police overstep the mark, they make reform inescapable,"
he
said.
Peter
Murphy said he thought the speech and apology was a good
step, but it
could have gone further.
"The
police are only mentioned once," he said.
"It
is very important that Parliament makes this statement.
"I'm
hoping that this will lead to the police command also making
a
whole-hearted apology for what took place in 1978, so that
we can
move past what's clearly a sort of official intolerance of
homophobic
attitudes in the police force.
"And
we will change that culture."
How
the beatings and humiliations of the 1978 Sydney Mardi Gras
made
reform inescapable
An
overdue apology is to be debated in NSW parliament for
the violence
of that night. But we should thank the police, writes David
Marr,
because their zeal and brutality were so out of kilter
with the
city’s attitudes, they spurred it to action
he
steam had gone out of Mardi Gras by the time the parade
reached the
El Alamein fountain in Kings Cross. For an hour or so a
couple of
thousand gays and lesbians, their friends and civil
libertarians, had
marched throughSydney on
a midwinter night calling for freedom. Now it was time
for a drink.
But
the police had other ideas. As the marchers began to
disperse, they
found their way blocked by a fleet of paddy wagons. Bashings
and
arrests began.
A
riot outside New York’s Stonewall Bar a few years earlier
had
kicked fresh life into gay law reform in America. On this
night in
June 1978, Stonewall was happening all over again in
Sydney’s
Darlinghurst Road.
I
wasn’t on the march – I’m not one of the honoured “78-ers”
– but I was at the court that Monday to find the witnesses I
needed
to do what we did on The National Times in those days: write
a big
narrative of what happened in the hours after a happy crowd
chanting
“Out of the bars and into the streets” set off down Oxford
Street
behind a truck at 10.30 pm.
State
MPs to apologise for mistreatment of first Sydney Mardi Gras
marchers
Read
more
I’ve
been back to my notes. They are better than the story I
wrote nearly
40 years ago. Names swim out of the past. Aids has claimed
some of
these warriors. A few of the lawyers on the streets that
night are
coming to the end of their time as judges in NSW and federal
courts.
Some of the braver souls on the march have escaped
respectability.
We’re all getting old.
Revellers
poured out of the bars. The police hurried them all down the
road.
Within 20 minutes they had reached Hyde Park where the
police permit
issued for the march decreed the demonstration had to end.
It was too
soon.
The
park filled with people expecting speeches but wishing for a
concert.
The police were having neither. They ordered the truck and
its
loudspeakers to drive away. The driver refused, was dragged
out and
fled into the crowd. The police ripped out the speaker
leads.
As
the first arrests were made the crowd began chanting, “Stop
police
attacks on gays, women and blacks.” It was an old favourite.
Once
the loudspeakers were disabled, the crowd was left to make
up its own
mind – by chanting. A chorus began: “March to the Cross.
March to
the Cross.”
This
was an action with only one purpose: to make arrests
On
William Street happy bravado was restored. The ruckus
round the truck
was forgotten. It was party time again. People left the
footpaths to
join the happy procession. “Ho-ho-homosexual,” chanted
the
marchers. Also a new favourite: “Dare to struggle, dare
to fight,
smash the Festival
of Light.”
Word
somehow swept through the crowd that their destination was
now the El
Alamein fountain. It made sense. The fountain is the
bullseye of the
Cross. But even before they arrived, there was a sense that
the night
was over. Old timers sang mournfully, “We Shall Not be
Moved”.
People broke off to buy ice creams.
But
about midnight the paddy wagons moved into place, their
sirens
blaring. The marchers were packed tight in a stretch of
Darlinghurst
Road with no way of dispersing. This was an action with only
one
purpose: to make arrests. Police removed their badges and
began
grabbing people.
In
the melee of the next half an hour the demonstrators were
joined by
locals, drunks and a couple of bikies. The queers fought
back.
“Police were using fists and boots,” one of the marchers,
Jeff
McCarthy, told me. “Beer cans were being thrown, full ones
from the
back of the footpath, bottles of Spumante, shoes, at least
one
garbage can from each side of the road.”
The
stories you need to read, in one handy email
Read
more
There
was screaming and crying. McCarthy saw a policeman kicked in
the
balls. “Someone was thrown half into a van, landed on his
stomach
on the edge of the door, then police slamming the door on
his legs.”
Several
witnesses confirmed that incident and widely shared was
McCarthy’s
impression that the police were particularly targeting
women. “They
seemed to make their attacks especially sexual,” McCarthy
said.
“Women were dragged along by the hair … One woman was
grabbed by
the tits. She called, ‘Let go of my tits’ and was charged
with
offensive language.”
Paddy
wagons ferried the arrested to the nearby Darlinghurst
police station
followed by several hundred marchers who took up a vigil in
the
street. This was the headquarters of the notorious No 3
Division that
policed gay Sydney. There was antagonism of long standing
between
this station and that community. Darlinghurst police frankly
regarded
homosexuals as criminals.
More
demonstrators were arrested. Heads connected with paddy
wagon
mirrors. Three big constables dragged a woman into the
station by the
hair.
Inside,
police refused for hours to bail any of the 50 prisoners.
Peter
Murphy was the first to emerge at about 4am. He had been
bashed in
the cells. Dr Jim Walker told me: “Murphy had bruises of the
head,
ribs, stomach arms and legs. His lower leg was particularly
swollen
to twice its normal size. I suspected a broken fibula.”
Murphy
was taken to St Vincent’s hospital.
Some
of
the 1978-ers marching in the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras in
2008.
Photograph: Jane Dempster/AAP
Helping
bail the men was Barbara Ramjan. It was nearly a year since
the
dramatic night of her election as the president of the
Sydney
University Students’ Representative Council, the night the
man she
beat, Tony Abbott, punched the wall beside her head.
Now
she was dealing with bewildered students, obstructive police
and
tearful gay solicitors. The last of the men bailed about
8.30am on
Sunday morning complained of a busted eardrum after being
bashed in
the police garage.
For
no particular reason except to prolong their ordeal, the
women
prisoners had been removed to central police station. There
they were
very, very slowly fingerprinted. The last of them was not
released
until 9.30am.
That
night on television, the then NSW premier Neville Wran
claimed the
demonstrators had had “a pretty good go … and I don’t
suppose
that it’s unexpected that the police have taken exception to
a busy
thoroughfare in Kings Cross being completely blocked off at
midnight.”
All
those charges were eventually dropped. Police commanders
were shown
to have lied in court
That
was a signal to police. Next morning in a cold drizzle up to
150
officers blockaded the steps of the Liverpool Street courts.
There
followed a battle that lasted most of the day between police
and the
magistrates to allow access to the courts. Despite order
after order
from the magistrates, the police declared: “The courts are
closed.”
The
crowd grew restive. Eggs were thrown. Three women who tried
to climb
over a high balustrade were tossed back into the crowd.
There were
more arrests. A police photographer shot rolls of film.
Solicitors
were threatened.
A
magistrate ordered Ramjan to be allowed into the building to
bail the
new prisoners. I watched police push her down the stairs
instead. She
somehow kept her footing. After all these years she puts
that down to
“Girl Guide training”. She made it into the building at
last.
Soon
after lunch, the police gave way. They’d made their point.
The
public entered to watch the magistrates grind through
formalities:
one charge of malicious injury to a police uniform, three
charges of
assault, four of offensive behaviour, five of failure to
observe a
direction, nine of resisting arrest, 10 of unseemly words,
18 of
hindering police and 19 of unlawful procession.
All
those charges were eventually dropped. Police commanders
were shown
to have lied in court. Protests continued all through that
winter. It
was at this time that a cohort of young solicitors came out.
The law
was at last seen for what it has always been: one of the
great gay
professions.
Mardi
Gras became a great Sydney event, at first commemorating
that 1978
shemozzle. But in an absolutely Sydney development, it
shifted from
winter to summer to celebrate itself – and to keep calling
for law
reform. It was 1984 before Wran stared down the churches and
the
Catholic flank of the Labor party to decriminalise gay sex
in NSW.
Marriage
equality: why knot?
Read
more
The
police changed. This year the NSW police gay and lesbian
liaison
officers will march in Mardi Gras as they have done for the
past 20
or so years. Bill Shorten will be among the squad of
politicians
turning out for the celebrations.
And
as a curtain-raiser this week the NSW parliament will debate
an
apology for 1978 and what Liberal MP Bruce Notley-Smith
calls “the
struggles and harm caused to the many who took part in the
demonstration and march both on that night and in the weeks,
months
and years to follow”.
Ken
Davis, one of the organisers of the first march is weighing
up
whether to attend the ceremony. He welcomes the apology
after all
these years but wonders where we are on the bigger question
of
freedom in a city of lockout laws and harsh bans on
processions.
“We
got law reform,” says Davis, “but police control of
public life
is much more extensive now than it was in 1978.”
Friday
essay: on the Sydney Mardi Gras march of 1978
The
Conversation February 19, 2016 6.18am AEDT
The
1978 Mardi Gras started as a peaceful march and degenerated
into a
violent clash with police. The
Pride History Group
Author
-
English
for Academic Purposes Specialist, Anthropologist, Centre for
English
Teaching, University of Sydney
Disclosure
statement
Mark
Gillespie is affiliated with The '78ers.
On
April 27, 2015, Christine Foster, a Liberal Party councillor
and the
sister of the then Australian Prime Minister, Tony Abbott,
moved a
motion at the Sydney City Council calling for a formal
apology to
the original gay and lesbian Mardi Gras marchers.
Is
a formal apology warranted?
To
answer this question, some understanding of the prevailing
oppressive
social conditions affecting the lives of sexual minorities
(now
termed GLBTIQ communities) in Australia in the 1960s and 70s
is
required.
What
is needed, too, is a better knowledge of the actual,
momentous events
that took place in Sydney between June and August 1978, when
violent
social unrest and public protests on the streets erupted
with
far-reaching effects for Australia that can now be seen in
historical
context.
The
march of 78
On
a cold Saturday night in Sydney on June 24, 1978, a number
of gay
men, lesbians and transgender people marched into the pages
of
Australian social history. I was one of them.
Several
protests and demonstrations were organised during June that
year to
commemorate the 1969
Stonewall riot in
New York and to demand civil rights for Australian lesbians
and gay
men.
Gay
activists in San Francisco had asked the Gay Solidarity
Group in
Sydney for support in their campaigns in California and the
word had
got out. At Taylor Square, where we assembled, I was
impressed by the
turnout (a report in The Australian estimated the crowd at
about
1,000 people at this early stage of the night).
Marchers
at the 1978 Mardi Gras parade. The
Pride History Group, Author provided
The
early rainbow nature of the movement was evident, with
transgender
and Aboriginal people and people from migrant backgrounds
all mixing
in. We were a diverse and spirited group of a few hundred
mostly
younger men and women ready to march down Oxford Street to
Hyde Park,
along a strip that was becoming the centre of gay life in
the city.
The
atmosphere was more one of celebration than protest. Little
did we
know then that, by the end of the night, many of us would be
traumatised and our lives changed forever.
As
a young émigré in my twenties, from the Queensland bush,
like many
gay men and lesbians from the country in those days, I was,
in
effect, an internally displaced person. We were refugees in
our own
country.
Having
arrived in Sydney seeking refuge from the never-ending
police state of mind that
was life under the Joh Bjelke-Petersen Queensland
government, I was
renting a studio flat in Crown Street, Darlinghurst, at the
time.
All
through history, cities have offered people like me a
measure of
escape from oppression and persecution. But in 1978, even in
a big
city like Sydney, refuge and security could not always be
found and,
without even basic human rights, we were always vulnerable.
The
1978 Mardi Gras parade. The
Pride History Group, Author provided
As
a high school teacher working for the NSW Department of
Education,
“coming out” posed a major risk for me – it could mean the
loss
of my job. For the those who were subjected
to electric shock treatment in
the 1970s at the old Prince
Henry Hospital in
Little Bay, it could even mean losing your mind.
Living
a “double life” was a means of survival. Gay people’s lives
were wrapped in stigma and shame.
The
real unspoken tragedy of the times was the loss of the lives
of so
many wonderful young people who struggled with their sexual
identities and, unable to deal with all the pain and shame
inflicted
on them, ended up committing suicide.
The
Stonewall Riot, which had occurred nine years earlier, far
away in
Greenwich Village on Manhattan in New York, marks the modern
era of
“homosexual liberation”. This oft-quoted term was
popularised as
early as 1971 by Dennis
Altman,
the Australian academic who became a leading voice of the
movement.
Back
to the march
We
started off from Taylor Square in a festive mood. Chants
rippled
along the marchers, strangers joined hands and we sought to
bring
people out of the bars and into the streets to join us. Some
did come
out of the bars and joined us; others lined up and watched
the parade
but did not join in.
I
heard the commonly used Australian put-down of those times,
“poofters”, hurled at us. “Ratbag poofters”, too. When we
reached Hyde Park we were denied entry.
Confusion
reigned and an officer in authority appeared intent on
breaking up
the march. His derogatory tone of voice and the way he
hurled insults
and abuse angered all
within earshot.
Police
and marchers met in the 1978 Mardi Gras. The
Pride History Group, Author provided
It
soon became clear that our open-back truck that would have
provided
the disco music for a party and a platform for speeches in
the park
was to be forcefully confiscated and the driver arrested. We
then
realised it would be a mistake for us to enter Hyde Park at
all.
At
the front of the march I remember a few split seconds of
initial
doubt that we would be able to do it, and then, in perfect,
bold,
spontaneous unison, at our success in breaking through the
cordon of
police across College Street, we shouted, “On to the Cross!”
(Kings Cross).
With
an exhilarating surge of energy we turned from College
Street into
William Street. Propelled onwards with hundreds joining in
behind us,
we turned left into Darlinghurst Road into the heart of
Kings Cross.
We were sick and tired of being criminalised, pathologised,
demonised, of being made to hide who we were and having our
rights to
live as human beings denied.
The
1978 Mardi Gras The
Pride History Group,Author provided
That
night we were in the streets and we were determined to get
our
message to as many people as possible. After marching down
Oxford
Street and seeing our numbers swell as many people came out
of the
coffee shops, bars and hotels to join us, now we wanted to
call on
everybody in the Cross to listen to our chants and come out
and
support us as well. We chanted: “Out of the bars and into
the
streets!”
We
wanted the whole world to hear our cries for freedom from
the
oppression that characterised our lives. In numbers,
suddenly,
wonderfully, we were unafraid. Here there was a direct
parallel with
Stonewall, for as
with the NYPD,
the NSW police force faced an unexpected and vigorous
resistance.
As
determined as they were to put us back in our closets there
was no
stopping us. Now we were coming out. And now we had straight
people
willing to join in and support us. In Darlinghurst Road in
Kings
Cross we were cut off and ambushed with hundreds of police
with
dozens of wagons blocking us in front and from behind.
These
were critical moments, because in truth the crowd would most
likely
have dispersed at this point.
Yet
the real violence was about to begin. It was there in
Darlinghurst
Road that we faced the most brutal onslaught of the whole
night. The
police, arriving in numbers, took advantage of the semi
darkness of
the night, unleashing a reckless and ugly attack on the
marchers.
They
acted as if they had a licence to inflict as much injury as
they
could and I feared there would be dead bodies everywhere if
they had
guns in those paddy wagons and were to open fire. Despite
that fear
we did not run, we fought back, resisting arrest as the
police
wielded their heavy batons indiscriminately.
The
Pride History Group, Author provided
The
more we were assaulted the more we resisted. The
group-solidarity had
taken hold as we tried to stand our ground, rescuing
“brothers”
and “sisters” from the clutches of the police as they were
being
forced into paddy-wagons. I distinctly remember the way that
the
police near the El Alamein Fountain targeted women for
arrest, in
particular, and the smaller and more vulnerable among us.
The
first Mardi Gras is often described
as a riot but
I didn’t see it that way. It was a very defiant act of
resistance
that proved a turning point. We were willing to stand up, to
resist.
We were people too; our sexualities may have been diverse
and
different but that did not make us any less human than
others.
The
discriminatory attitude of the police and the violence they
meted out
to us seemed to represent in highly symbolic and condensed
form the
very pain, humiliation and suffering that society as a whole
constantly inflicted on us as lesbians and gay men.
The
1978 Mardi Gras parade. Author
provided
Gail
Hewison, one of the women detained, described to me the
whole
experience of being locked-up without charge as one of shock
and
trauma. She had all her possessions taken away from her
including her
glasses. She told me she could hear the sounds of a man
being
horribly beaten in another cell. Then, after a while she
also began
to hear the supportive chants of the crowds gathering
outside.
In
front of the police station, close to Oxford Street and
Taylor Square
where the march had started hours earlier, battered and
bruised,
hundreds of us gathered in an enraged state shouting, “Let
them
free!”. We continued the refrains from our earlier chants:
Two
four six eight, gay is just as good as straight!
Looking
out at the angry crowd the police inside the station must
have been
apprehensive about what would happen next. They were greatly
outnumbered and for some moments as we inched closer and
closer, you
could sense an urge on the part of the crowd to takeover the
police
station, to demand the jailers keys and so to release our
brothers
and sisters.
Over
the years I have often wondered why we didn’t storm the
building
then and there. Strangely after a short period of silence
somebody
started to sing the Afro-American spiritual “We shall
overcome”
and the whole crowd joined in:
We
shall not, we shall not be moved
We shall not, we shall
not be moved
Just like a tree that’s standing by the water
We
shall not be moved
Reflecting
on this now I would like to think that, despite the
provocation on
that night itself and the centuries of violence that had
been
perpetrated upon us, we as a collective knew instinctively
that
violence was one of our main grievances and we had a mission
to
resist it and fight against violence using other means.
The
1978 Mardi Gras parade. The
Pride History Group, Author provided
This
brief narrative of the first Mardi Gras is told because the
events of
that night, their causes and repercussions can now be placed
in
clearer historical perspective and they help us to
understand why
keeping politics at the centre of the annual Mardi Gras is
so
important.
Facing
the HIV epidemic
As
Dennis Altman pointed out in The
End of the Homosexual? (2013),
it was the precise timing of the Mardi Gras leading to the
decriminalisation of homosexuality in NSW in 1984 that
ultimately
helped save thousands of Australian lives in the HIV
epidemic that
hit Sydney hard in 1985.
The
epidemic could only have been handled as effectively as it
was
because decriminalisation and critical bi-partisan cross
party
political support resulted in more openness and less stigma.
The
old days of identity politics are now gone and labels are
eschewed in
these times where the fluidity of sexuality is recognised
and better
understood. But the struggle is not over. In 2013 we
witnessed the
arrest of a young
teenager at the Mardi Gras parade who
was assaulted and abused in ways reminiscent of 1978. Again
the
police were not held accountable for their actions.
Young
people are still ending their lives because of the pain
and homophobia they experience.
If there is a timely lesson for the police here it is in the
need for
an authentic engagement with minority groups where honesty
and
respect replaces suspicion and contempt.
So
at the same time we celebrate just how far GLBTQI people in
NSW have
come with dramatically improved community attitudes and we
not only
welcome but applaud a contingent of the NSW Police Service
marching
in the annual parade, we need to resist attempts to
whitewash our
history and we need to make sure we do not lose the memories
of our
earlier struggles.
A
police officer dances in the 2015 Mardi Gras parade. Jason
Reed/Reuters
The
motion at Sydney Town Hall earlier in 2015, calling for an
official
apology to the 78ers for the violence of that June night in
1978, was
strongly supported by out-lesbian elder and Deputy Lord
Mayor Robyn
Kemmis, who recently died.
We
owe a debt to her work and that of people such as Steve
Warren,
one of the original 78ers who has worked tirelessly for an
apology.
That Sydney City Council action has prompted a small
bipartisan group
of NSW State parliamentarians to take up the call for an
official
apology.
Sadly,
any apology now is too late for so many who were present at
that
first Mardi Gras and are no longer with us. Many were cut
down before
their time in the HIV AIDS epidemic.
The
efforts of these NSW parliamentarians, though, are important
and mean
a great deal to the 78ers that survive. Back in 1978 we
called, in
vain, for a Royal Commission into the police violence of
that June
night. We also called for an apology from Fairfax for
publishing the
names, occupations and addresses of all of the 53 people who
were
arrested that night.
Till
this time no formal apology has been received from Fairfax.
After
nearly 38 years since the first Mardi Gras an apology by the
NSW
State parliament would help to heal the wounds.
So
as an original 78er I welcome an apology by the NSW
Parliament. But
it needs to be a “living apology”. A living apology is one
where
Parliament affirms the need for ongoing vigilance so that
the human
rights of LGBTIQ people are respected and protected in law.
It
also has to affirm the need for ongoing social investment in
educational programs that create a more inclusive NSW
community where
differences are respected and where the power of diversity
is
celebrated.
We
welcome anyone who participated in the 1978 Mardi Gras with
an
interest in the apology to contact the 78ers
committee or
the Pride
History Group.
If you are in Sydney for the Fair Day in Victoria Park on
Sunday
February 21, come our tent and talk to us.
In
the current international climate with the re-emergence of
fascist
threats from all sides there are too few places in the world
that
offer the hope of this kind of open society. Sydney, and
Australia
more broadly, could represent this kind of inclusive
society. It will
be a society where the role of the police shifts from
suppressing the
rights of minorities to protecting and even championing
them.
