Queer Experiences, a collaboration with Dr Michele Jarldorn and Dr Jared D’Mello, asked LGBTQIA+ South Australians to tell us about a time or place where they experienced safety and belonging. These are their submissions.
Cabin Couple* Escape to the forest* Had a beautiful t4t getaway near kuitpo forest, was a nice break away from the busy city without the noise and anxiety of other people. Was very peaceful knowing that we didn’t have to perform for strangers *trans guy, white australian(irish background), poor uni dropout
Rhys* Open Mic * This is an empty stage. A mic. Pink light. Speakers. Drum kit off to the side. This is the stage at Ellipsis poetry open mic night (held at Arthur art bar). This is whete I share my queer identity, guts, tears, love poems and rage. This is not an exclusively queer space—but it has always been an affirming one. I had to learn to talk about who I was, in code, in poetry, before I could be my whole self. In some ways, this is more home than home. Community. Love and respect to the Ellipsis poetry team who do the work of curating such a space.* Pastor’s kid. Single mum of queer kids. Not desperately poor but there’s never enough. Poets are rarely rich. Queer, specifically bi girl in a same-sex relationship. Probably neurodivergent but undiagnosed.
Kobe * A love letter to queer resistance * I took the photo to remember, and to remind people that even with the space gone we are all still out there, loving and fighting and revolting. I took this photo because it captured something raw and honest about queer expression in South Australia. The message on the wall felt like a small but powerful act of resistance—someone claiming space for queer, mad, sapphic voices in a place where those identities have historically been pushed to the margins. It reflects a spirit that exists within South Australia’s queer community: outspoken, political, creative, and unwilling to be erased….I didn’t want it to be erased, even if the wall came down. This location makes me think about the complexity of safety and belonging. Sometimes queer safety exists in unexpected places—like bathrooms, bars, and community spaces where people feel free enough to be themselves and to leave messages like this. Seeing it made me feel a sense of recognition and solidarity, but it also reminds me that these declarations often appear in spaces where people still feel they have to carve out belonging rather than assume it. For me, this location connects to identity through community. Messages like this show that queer spaces are built collectively—through presence, expression, and sometimes through acts of rebellion. It tells me that other people like me have passed through this space, leaving traces of anger, pride, humour, and solidarity. Places like this matter because they quietly document queer life. They show that community exists not only in organised events or institutions but also in the small, everyday moments where people assert who they are. What I want others to know about this location is that queer culture often lives in these fleeting, informal expressions. A scribbled message on a wall might seem small, but it speaks to a long history of people claiming space, finding each other, and reminding the world that queer voices are here. This wall holds more than just graffiti—it holds memories. I’ve met incredible people in this space and had some particularly good times right up against that very wall. The message reflects the unapologetic spirit of South Australia’s queer community: loud, political, playful, and full of life. Places like this create moments of safety, belonging, and connection that shape who we are and the communities we build. I miss it. * Queer, She/Her, Feminist, Labile, Spicy, Mortgage-aspiring Middle Class, Standard issues White Australian, Aries
Unity Excercise* This is my preparation for a queer exercise group. I love this group as I can rock up regardless of my capacity or mood and know I can just exist in the space. I also have disabilities with fluctuating ability to engage in exercise so being socially safe makes it more possible to attend as it reduces more barriers. *I am queer, agender, disabled, neurodivergent, chronically ill, settler, clinician, educator, researcher,
Chloe * On the fringe * Adelaide has a very subsued Queer spirit. There isn't a lot of Queerness on display usually, though you can find pockets. Young gay and queer men have a space, but the rest of the queer community doesn't have somewhere to go anymore. The Fringe is a time where so many artists come to the state to celebrate art and performance, and there are more spaces to go and everything feels a bit more queer. * Lesbian (with panromantic history), Italian/English heritage, lower-middle class, agnostic, AuDHD and physical disability.
Taylor David * Raising an Inclusive Generation * This photo was captured because it reflects a quiet but powerful moment of inclusion in an early childhood education setting in Adelaide,South Australia. In this image an educator is reading The Family Book, a children’s book that celebrates diverse family structures, to a group of young children. What drew me to this moment in terms of South Australia’s queer spirit is the way inclusion is embedded into everyday learning rather than treated as something separate or special. It shows how acceptance can be normalised from the earliest years of life. This space makes me feel a strong sense of safety, belonging and inclusivity. Early childhood environments can play a critical role in shaping children’s understandings of identity, family and community. In this setting, diversity is not hidden or avoided; it is acknowledged openly and respectfully. Seeing children engage with stories about different types of families creates a sense that everyone belongs and that no child’s family structure is considered unusual or less valid. This location is meaningful to my identity and my community because it reflects values of acceptance, respect and social justice. As an early childhood educator, I see my role not just as supporting children’s learning but also as helping to build a community where differences are understood and celebrated. This place plays an important role in my life because it is part of the everyday work of shaping how children see the world and one another. The early years are formative, and experiences like this help children develop empathy, curiosity and respect for difference. What I want others to know about this location is that early childhood education spaces can be powerful sites for inclusion. Here, children are being raised to accept and celebrate people from all walks of life, especially through an understanding that families come in many forms. By introducing these ideas early, spaces like this contribute to a more inclusive and compassionate community for the future. *I am a straight 40+ year old white woman who is also an early childhood teacher. I live in the Adelaide Hills and work in Norwood. I am raising two children. One is non-binary and their experience has taught me so much about the importance of teaching acceptance and embracing difference as well as the real need to break down gender stereotypes.
Lark* Queer Joy * I didn’t take the photo but it was taken at My Lover Cindi, during a reunion of the queer nightclub/bar in Adelaide. MLC is the only place I’ve ever felt truly safe as a queer, disabled, AuDHD person to be who I truly am in all my weird, awkward, messy glory. A place where I can be with other queerdo’s experiencing authentic, safe community in all its forms. MLC was accessible to me both physically and emotionally in that I knew there would always be people who had my back, who went out of their way to ensure safety and who were creative in making their space accessible and always willing to learn amd do better. I feel incredibly fortunate to have known and experienced such a special place *I’m a genderqueer person who usually falls in love with femme presenting people. I’m chronically ill and physically disabled as well as autistic and I have ADHD, OCD, GAD, panic disorder and C-PTSD. I grew up in a poor family who lived a privileged, mostly middle class lifestyle- I was a scholarship student at private schools and my mother’s family is upper middle class. I finished year 12 but haven’t completed any tertiary education but I am the only person in my immediate family not to do so. I’m in recovery from drug addiction, self harm, suicidal ideation and developmental trauma as well as sexual, physical, emotional and spiritual abuse. I grew up in an extremely fundamentalist Christian cult. I now describe myself as an atheist.
Jezebel * Darling house library office * This is the view from the desk in the Darling House Community Library in 2003. The library was a joint library of the AIDS Council of South Australia and the Gay and Lesbian Counseling Service of SA. I volunteered there with Ian Purcell and his husband Stephen after completing my Grad Dip in Library and Info Studies at Uni SA and 'transitioning' in 1993. It gave me a safe place to be me, to learn about the PLWHA community and to develop my library management skills.* I am white, Aotearoa born Australian. I identify as a Trans woman and a lesbian. I have been with my lover, Anthea for thirty years. I suppose I am middle class but often it felt harder than that. I completed a Associate Diploma in Photography at SACAE in 1983, a B.A. (History and Politics) at Adelaide in 1992 and a Grad Dip Library and Info Management at Uni SA in 1993. I have no religion although I can see how many people get a lot from it. After working 30 years in archives at State Records and State Library, I resigned from the State Records Council last year, I am now retired but helping out where I can to preserve South Australia's LGBTIQA+ archival memory.
Tarsis * If it's not sugarcoated then it must be true* his was in a bar which is not specifically pitched as a LGBTIQA+ bar but is definitely an inclusive place. I have never felt that I can't be there because I am queer or neurodivergent although sometimes I am worried that being older and not "cool" is a burden to the place (they don't put that on me, that's my own baggage). It's an inclusive place. A lot of people there appear queer and trans (even when it's people I don't know they look like community), it's a friendly place with a leftist vibe and not too cosy with the police. We need our places to not be policed. I have heard anecdotal evidence that someone got kicked out for being a racist or homophobic jerk, even though I don't know the details to me that is confidence inspiring. The toilets are full of grafitti. I ABSOLUTELY judge a place by the quality of the grafitti, no grafitti is a bad sign for a start but to be fair one of the toilets in this place has art instead of grafitti and that is fine with me. I was very drunk when I saw this written on the wall and I found it encouraging. It wasn't positive enough for me to dismiss it, it was just down to earth accepting. Oh also there is vegan food in this place late at night and there are non-alcoholic drinks available (I like drinking but I like not having to drink as well). I feel like this space is safe for me to be in and when my child (over 18) initially started going into town and drinking I was relieved he and his friends went to this place where there is a bit of a community care vibe and the likelihood of meeting people who are all about making the world better (artists, musicians, poets, activists, but also anyone other than nazis/cops pretty much). I imagine a world where instead of subjecting these community gathering places to the ravages of the capitalist market, there would be a collective or publically funded way to have these spaces. Yes there is drinking and sex or sex-adjacent stuff in these places (ooh hotbeds of vice LOL) but they are kind of secular churches in that we all need to connect with the community and the divine/sublime, we need to heal our wounded spirits and be accepted for who we are. We need places to meet and organise or places to encounter the other and not overthink it and just DANCE. There was another place that had queer burlesque which I think is also a community need. We NEED to celebrate the queer, abject body. We need to worship the right to exist as a fat or disabled being. We need to determinedly tread all over narrow gendered ideals of how a body should be. We need ways of having safe group sex...did I go too far? Maybe it's not group sex per se. We also need bookshops/libraries, gardens, and beaches. What we DON'T need is more fucking coalmines or arms dealers.* I'm a middle-aged neurodivergent, fat, non-binary, demisexual lesbian who doesn't easily feel at home or safe anywhere. I come from a non-English speaking (European) background and I am probably middle class these days (ie overeducated) although I am still poor as dirt. I mix with people richer and poorer than me. I have invisible disability which I don't want to elaborate on. I have trans family...I mean I am trans in a modest way too but I have proper trans people also in my inner circle. Feel free to leave out whatever you want from that if you use my demographic information. Yes!!!! I wanted to give you 15 photos of a little egg I found that someone had hatched out of, and my favourite book shop (which is LGBTQIA+ friendly) and a random pub overseas, and a bunch of little clitorises (sweet peas), and a froglet that ambushed me, and a pro-Palestine protest (social justice in intrinsically queer), and a rainbow that just came to sit on my leg one day ...and I can't remember what else. Being queer you always have to think "am I safe here?...am I not safe here?...am I about to have a random people yell at me or punch me (this happened walking down the street one time)?...Ok I am grudgingly tolerated but am I allowed to talk about queer? Am I allowed to enact queer? Am I actually welcome? Oh I am welcome well now I am talking too much that won't do......etc" So you develop a relationship with all spaces based on "I am a queer person trying to shrink" or "I am safe here and people welcome me". You think about it thousands of times a day and silly things like rainbow flags should not make a difference but they do...because you are always scanning the environment for allies just in case. And seeing cops, especially when they have those oversized big machine guns gives you the opposite feeling of safety. I hate when people say that having more cops will make a place safer (or that I shouldve gone to the cops when I got punched). NO. NO WE DON'T NEED MORE POLICING. We need communities of mutuality and care.
Andy * Yuletide Gays * This was during a gift exchange at uni, friends and acquaintances, queer and ally, sharing relief at surviving a year of study and laughing at bad jokes in christmas crackers or chowing down on food. The location of the photo is the kitchen of the specialty lounges at AU, the specialty lounges are home to the Disability Inclusion group, Mature Students Association, Dr Duncan (Pride) lounge (aka pride room), and the Womens Collective. Minorities that are active and right there but are typically dismissed in community, this space is for safety and good vibes.* I'm demiaroace, bisexual, and nonbinary (transmasculine and on T). I grew up in Tassie and relocated to SA in 2024 for studies, I've been told by other neurodiverse people i may be in there somewhere buut doctors haven't wanted to discuss that with me. In the past i've had a difficult relationship with religion which unfortunately has been stretched more since moving due to people shouting in the streets about how if I don't follow Jesus or am queer I'm living in sin and deserve hell essentially- "shockingly" this hasn't helped with mental health stuff.
Loz * Soul on Fire * This was a time I felt very isolated and alone as I'm sure a lot of people feel in the LGBTQ community. Everyone around me appeared to "have it all together" the families, the jobs and I had lost everything- feeling stagnant, lost , staring into a sunset unsure to where my compass was pointing. So I decide to lose myself in nature, seeking solitude and peace. Nature is wild and wavering but above all free. This moment in time set my soul on fire. I began to dream again, feel less lonely, be proud of who I am and when life starts to feel disjointed I will chase another sunset feeling acceptance and belonging. Nature is a work of art, just like me.* I was brought up in religion, though some of it was beneficial on my belief system a lot of it didn't seem to fit my identity. It wasn't till my mid 20s that I started to realise I didn't fit the heteronormative mould and came out as a Lesbian. When I did- I lost friends, was judged, was made to feel afraid of my identity and in turn felt completely isolated. This created a fear of myself which meant I hid my sexuality. I began to disappear into sunsets providing space and time to think, reflect but ultimately gave me the inspiration and courage to live my truth, to which I stand by each day!
Frankie* I took this photo during a Pride event hosted by Ramble Arts (previously Riverland Youth Theatre), which is a community space that connects young people with each other and art. There’s a program called The Judy’s that specifically connects queer adults with each other and offers monthly workshops where we might paint/do mosaics/pottery/go for a walk etc. It’s a way to find and stay within community, and it’s brilliant. When I moved to the Riverland from Adelaide three years ago, I was afraid I wouldn’t find queer friends and community the way I had back home. Seeing queerness can be harder in regional places, and I noticed that queer people weren’t as immediately visible as they seemed to be in the city. I also noticed a dominant type of masculinity that felt pretty restrictive and oppressive. Heteronormativity is very strong here. I’m a transgender man and was just starting to figure out how to express my masculinity when I moved, and RYT helped to show me there isn’t just one way to do that. I find immense safety and a sense of belonging through this community, this magical third space where everyone can meet each other where they’re at without any judgment. It’s what has made me feel at home in a new town.* I am a transgender bisexual/queer man. I guess pansexual is more accurate but I’m a millennial so bi is the word for me! I’m half Greek, half Italian and was raised by immigrants. I have ADHD. I have two University degrees. I am a very spiritual person although I don’t prescribe to any one religion or ideology.
Rā* Transcendent * The ocean is the only place I’ve ever felt truly at ease in my queerness. It’s watched me evolve in my own over decades, in all versions of myself, and welcomed me in every iteration. The juxtaposition of play and whimsy with its tenacity are parallels I feel within other embodied queer spaces. To me, the ocean is safety, which is a privilege I appreciate is not afforded to many bodies. But even that acknowledgement of intersectionality is a nod to the queerness of the ocean. Nevermind the biological sexual diversity of its inhabitants. Christie’s beach is particularly special because I have felt more comfortable as a visibly queer person there than many more urban spaces- the locals don’t care, they don’t judge. They ask you about your dog and get on with their lives. The ocean is mystery, power, diversity, strength, evolving and utterly wholeheartedly itself. I have felt such queer liberation playing annd partying and resting and reading and strolling and beckoning on Adelaide’s beaches.* Middle class / white Australian / Masc gender diverse AFAB
Rae * Floor time * When I thought about what makes me feel safe, the first thing I thought of was the living room in my friends’ house. It’s hard to precisely articulate the feelings I associate with this space around belonging, acceptance and safety, as it all feels very abstract. For me, I think it’s about the connections and community that come with this space, and how clear it is to me how much effort my friends have put into making it this way. This space, whilst of course being super comfy and welcoming, is realistically more reflective of the care and effort my friends put into building and maintaining a safe space for community and connection to occur. I can show up on a bad day and lay on the floor and just be miserable. Or, I can show up on a good day when they’re on the floor feeling miserable. We can even all sometimes be miserable (both on and off the floor), and feel less alone whilst doing so. I associate this welcoming space with authentic social safety, knowing I can just exist without fear of judgement. It’s a space where we safely discuss and explore our feelings, experiences, ideas, and struggles with understanding, empathy, and curiosity. And even when we aren’t feeling up to talking, we can just sit in comfortable silence and watch cool movies. I’ve spent a lot of time in my life feeling disconnected or like I don’t belong. This photo, for me, represents the feeling of safety and belonging I’ve found after a long period of not having these things. It also serves as a celebration of the profound value my friends bring to the world and their communities, and as a symbol of hope that we might all find ‘our people’ eventually.* I am non-binary, pansexual person with autism and ADHD. I was raised by my single mother who is also a member of the LGBTQIA+ community. I am working class, and whilst I am not studying, I didn’t finish high school.
Jew * Almost Alone * In am a Jewish Lesbian I am almost certain that most people will judge me negatively about this image in the exhibition. I don't speak about my thoughts/beliefs on the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict with almost anyone. I don't feel that I will be understood, that I will need to explain myself and my opinions. I don't expect understanding. I feel an outsider. I don't expect to be anything else. This is ok. I'm used to it. This isn't to do with my sexuaity or gender it is to do with being a Jew. * I'm being part of this project as an obligation to be out about this part of who I am. If anyone who sees this exhibition wants to talk to me I will also be obliged and I probably won't talk to you. It's too much for me.
Buttercup * My Loves * I’ve always loved the beach and for most of my life it’s been a source of comfort. The time where it hasn’t been was when I was struggling with my gender identity and not feeling safe to express myself. I took this photo after an afternoon at the beach, with people I love who I can be myself with. Trans, queer, loved. The sun setting, enjoying peoples company and not thinking about anything else but that.* Non binary, bisexual, latine
Maelstrom Rider * Rage and joy amongst the peace * Look at this place. Transphobes can get fucked. The Adnyamathanha (Rock People) have lived here for tens of thousands of years, my transgender soul felt accepted, amazed and peaceful looking at these amazing mountains. I cried for the next 30 minutes. I felt so incredibly lucky to be there.* I am a retired transgender woman, quite a late transitioner as it turns out. I worked as a union organiser for 2 decades and would describe myself as financially comfortable but more radical than ever. I am not religious yet this view and place on Bunyeroo Road, Ikara-Flinders Ranges National Park had a profound impact on me. This picture probably doesn't fit the research brief but I like it and the experience it reminds me of.
T * River Torrens * I like the torrens (karra wirra) because I come here often with my friends. They have good bird turnouts here, and it is nice and quiet in comparison to the rest of the city. I just like that it is quiet and a good place for me to meet with others. The rest of the city, especially during gather round, i don’t feel very safe in. The Torrens is out of the way and generally peaceful later at night. I generally feel unsafe in enclosed buildings/spaces, especially when I am alone. Its the only place in the city where I don’t feel suffocated in.* Bi-greyromantic, asexual, gender apathetic, ‘Australian’, agnostic atheist, in tertiary education
Nostos * Pergola at Mt Lofty Botanical Gardens * Some friends and I were out enjoying the lovely weather at the Mt Lofty Botanical Gardens, and we ended up at this pergola where I took this photo. I’ve been a few times before, across different seasons, and I always love it! In my experience, many queer outings I’ve attended, either organised or casual, occur in settings close to or in nature. This can be places like parks, gardens, conversation areas, wildlife reserves, etc., either in the cbd or out of it. This is likely because they’re just the public spaces available for events, but it’s also nice to get in touch with nature and take up space where we can.* I identify as queer, aromantic, and asexual. I’ve grown up in Adelaide, though was born overseas and my parents and I are immigrants. I’m privileged to be in a position that I have enough free time, funds and physical ability to go to the Mt Lofty Botanical Gardens when I want to. I’m currently in uni and finding it very fulfilling.
Frankie * Wetland and Meadow * I find a deep sense of peace when I’m in nature. Nature doesn’t judge who or how I am. I can see myself reflected back to me within the preserved wild spaces I work in. I don’t know exactly how to explain it, but for me a big part of my queerness is my connection to nature, and I feel the wetlands I work in are inherently queer spaces too. Nothing is linear here, everything is connected and changing all the time. Wetlands are liminal spaces, sometimes wet, sometimes dry, always something in between. I feel my queerness represented in this, in the way the birds chatter, and the frogs call through the night, and the plants grow, blossom and then die over and over again. I can sit in the water and know I am exactly right. I think we can often take nature for granted, and minimise the positive impact it has on our wellbeing. This specific location is not publicly accessible, but there are so many pockets of earth/beach/river/forest/park/garden dotted around us that can offer the same feeling of support. I want people to tend to nature and be delighted to discover that it allows them to tend to themselves, too.* I am a transgender bisexual/queer man. I guess pansexual is more accurate but I’m a millennial so bi is the word for me! I’m half Greek, half Italian and was raised by immigrants. I have ADHD. I have two University degrees. I am a very spiritual person although I don’t prescribe to any one religion or ideology.
Ki * PLUR * Not the specific location, but raves in general. They’re all about Peace, Love, Unity & Respect. You never feel like someone’s judging you & most of the community supports one another if needed!* Transfemme, Lesbian The only non-person picture I had was in Melbourne, but the scene in Adelaide is equally as supportive!
SheShe* Girl Meet Girl Sapphic Social Picnics Kaurna* This photo was taken at the Adelaide Botanic Gardens during an event called Girl Meet Girl Social Sapphic Picnic, which is held every three months in the Gardens. The photo was taken to capture a snap shot of a bright, inclusive and accessible space in nature at the Gardens where we gather and make connections with other queer sapphic folk. This location offers a regular and consistent large open air space for sapphic folk to join the picnics with community, where we can be our authentic selves with our Pride Flags and Picnic rugs connecting to country.* Pronouns She/her, Queer, Bi, Pan, Demi, Australian I was born in NSW Wiradjuri Mudgee, lived in Eora Nation Sydney for 25 years and have resided here on Kaurna Land for 7.5 years. Middle class, non religious, neurodivergent. Girl Meet Girl is a vibrant community for 18 + sapphic folk to meet new people in real life, in a supportive, safe inclusive space, make new friends, build community connections, have fun adventures together!
Sally * Two beacons * There are two zones of semi-consistent safety for queer people to experience nightlife in Adelaide. Each a scattered collection of venues in the East and West Ends. Sometimes, the place you thought was safe just isn't one night—the venue booked a band that only attracts douchebags, an obnoxious person is wearing a MAGA hat and nobody seems to cares but you, some misgenders you for the wrongth time today and you can't take anymore—so you decide to make the cross-town trek. Everyone I know has done this. But not everyone likes to. They either don't feel safe or can't afford the uber. I, however, loooooove it. I'm bigger than most cis men, have resting trust-me face, and I'm witty enough to talk my way out of (or into if someone else needs help) confrontations. Critically, I've navigated corporate Australia for decades and as a result, generally behave like I belong wherever I am. I'm also presumed healthy, housed, and white. Because of all this, I feel it's my responsibility to keep walking through the city I love broadcasting some kinda there's-nothing-for-me-to-fear-here vibe until it feels this way for every last one of us.* Lesbian, trans woman, single parent and domestic violence victim/survivor. Descendant of Scottish and English immigrants and settlers, working class, agnostic, AuDHD, chronically ill, tertiary educated.
Soundie * IRL concert * The Northern sound system is an incredibly inclusive workplace and I always enjoy mixing gigs there!* Bisexual migrant arts industry worker
p$ * My loves, my life* My partner and I are in a hetero-normative presenting relationship, but we still feel threatened or fearful in public spaces. I feel safest in his arms, with our fur babies, and amongst are chosen family. This photo was taken on holiday -as the sun dipped and the light faded, we blurred into silhouettes to become... just like everyone else. In that moment, there was belonging, freedom, and safety.* I am a cisgender woman who identifies as pansexual, and I am both neurodivergent and living with a disability. My partner has transitioned from female to male. We are both immigrants and have come to embrace Australia as our permanent home. The last time we returned to our country of birth, we felt unsafe due to being LGBTIQA+and the political climate. We have not been back since.
Babs * Nestled * This was the place i watched two dear friends share their vows through incredibly unique and personal ritual - it was vulnerable and fun, and perfectly "them" The location felt like a haven, far above the city, but still apart of it It was a place where I witnessed a textured challenge to the status quo - a defiance about what marriage looks like, on the surface or on paper, a reminder to look beneath, to take control of these moments and write them how you want. I felt so deeply honoured to be one of the small few invited to this ceremony. I felt so safe, safer than I ever had in such a potentially traditional circumstances. I'll remember this day, and this view, forever. * transfemme lesbian from working class, atheist background - I live with an invisible disability and have completed no tertiary education
Emily * Billy Buttons after the rain * I spend hours here with my small children, getting muddy, planting, digging, birdwatching, and chatting to people walking by. Our garden is a mess of natives and mulch, and is an amusing contrast to next door's beautiful, manicured cottage garden (you can immediately tell where the lesbians live, and where the gay guys live). We've been here for nearly ten years now, so it feels deeply familiar, even though I didn't grow up here. But it feels particularly safe because we know all the neighbours. Close by are two other queer couples, one with their beautiful dog, who moved in around the same time we did. It's a tiny street, but somehow full of people who have things in common with us - which has been such a happy surprise to find in the outer suburbs, where I thought I'd never live. It's also taught me about how community is actually made. I had to awkwardly introduce myself to passers-by while sweating in the garden in my Crocs, remember names, make a Whatsapp group, and find room in my tiny backyard for a neighbours get together. But now we know people, and in many emergencies we have had help and generosity right in our street, and given it to others too. Recently, one of my neighbours was the target of a homophobic hate crime, right on his front porch by some young adults who should have known better. It was surreal. But they messed with the wrong gay. My neighbour found them (it's a small street), and at the invitation of their parents, he lectured them about the impact of homophobia until they nearly cried. He didn't think twice about going down to talk to them. I was struck by his courage, but also felt immensely grateful to have someone so proud and unafraid right next door. I was also impressed that he knew where everyone lived! I don't ever feel unsafe at home or worry about my kids, or question whether I should be raising them in a more progressive suburb. I know we can always ring the neighbours. * Lesbian, white settler, raised in very low socio-economic area, now middle class I guess? with postgrad education
Dusty Queer* My home among the gumtrees* I took this photo while at The Mallee Fowl Restaurant to perform a poem I wrote for an event named P.O.T Luck. P.O.T Luck is an event that was created by a queer friend of mine in our small community. This one was at The Mallee Fowl restaurant, a dusty, hot, outdoor restaurant full of mismatched chairs and beautiful smiles. The Mallee Fowl is just off of the highway in a small town named Monash, it's mostly farms, dirt and Gumtrees which pretty perfectly sums up the Riverland. This night was one I will never forget, it was hot, I was bare foot, with all of my beautiful queer friends sharing poetry, drag performances and songs. * I am a non binary lesbian, engaged to a non binary lesbian. We live in a small Riverland town and am raising my 17 year old brother.