Based on the statements given before the Supreme Court of the
Northern Territory in Alice Springs, several things seem certain. On
the evening of Thursday October 21, 1943 a small group of soldiers had
been drinking in the beer garden of the military canteen shortly after
it closed at 9:30. After the rest had retired two troops remained
behind to finish their drinks. Exactly what happened next was the point
of substantial disagreement between the pair, but when the corporal on
canteen duty went out to investigate the noises, it seems he found the
two soldiers engaged in some sort of struggle on the ground with their
clothing in disarray. Whatever the truth of the matter, the outcome
would be charges and a conviction for 'assault with intent to commit
buggery' for one of the men, with 12 months hard labour and a court
martial. His partner would be cast as the victim of the piece. Whether
one soldier had sexually assaulted the other or both were willing
participants but, faced with discovery, one turned against his mate to
save himself, remains unclear.
Constable Bill Whitcombe probably thought he had a watertight
case. There were two witnesses who had both sworn statements that the
cook from the Alice Springs aerodrome had made unwanted advances
towards them and had sexually assaulted one of them not once, but
twice. The fellow even had form, with a few counts of stealing,
receiving stolen goods and railway trespass on his record, although
they were from many years before. A conviction would have seemed
certain. However, it was not to be, and the case would collapse in
court when the key witness retracted his statement admitting it had all
been a lie.
I first met Jimmy Bergengren in the late 1980's through a mutual
friend. A younger guy named Kym who had been living with Jimmy between
stints in Adelaide invited Paul and me to a dinner party at his house
in Raggett Street. The meal itself, laid out on the table that formed
the cellar trapdoor, was a Swedish smorgasbord in recognition of
Jimmy's heritage but also featuring little Australian toothpick flags
to indicate those dishes of more local origin for our benefit. Jimmy
entertained us before and after dinner with tales of his youth in
Sweden and his 30 or so years in Alice Springs; the guys he had known
and some of the events he had witnessed. His conversation was peppered
with the names of several prominent local families and veiled hints of
scandal.
This story appeared on page 15 of Campaign issue 57, printed in
1980. It describes the trials and tribulations of a young,
newly-graduated gay male teacher who made the clearly unfortunate
career choice of taking up his initial placement in Tennant Creek. As
much about the foibles of life in the NT public service in the late
70's as it is about being gay in the Territory of the time, it
provides a fascinating insight into the attitudes of queer city folk to
the idea of trying to function in remote Australia. There is also a
reference to the formation of an Alice Springs Gay Society at the time,
which has not been previously recorded, as well as some commentary on
an early battle between good Christian women and those of suspect
sexuality, centred around staffing the Alice Springs women's refuge.
I clearly remember the first time I met Eric. It was the same day
as I arrived to live in Alice Springs; August 11, 1984. Not that we
were strangers. We had been corresponding in the months before I left
Sydney and established that not only would we both be gay men living in
Central Australia, but that we would both be researchers working with
Aboriginal people. Quite a coincidence! Eric was so keen to meet me
that he appeared at my hosts' house within hours of my arrival and
dragged me round to the Gap Hotel for a drink. I can still vividly
recall watching the replay of the Los Angeles Olympics closing ceremony
while listening to his critique of his own American culture. That night
I couldn’t possibly have predicted that four years later I would be
helping with arrangements for Eric to make one last trip back to Alice
Springs to die.
My mother - English, living on Sydney's North Shore and not at all
'out' about my sexuality - had an eighty-year old friend who came to
Alice Springs on holiday. After her visit, my mother, interested
because this is, after all, my home town, asked for her friend's
impressions. "Oh, lovely," came the reply. "I really liked Alice
Springs. You know, m'dear, there seems to be something of a sisterhood
in that town." "Something of a sisterhood" - I love that phrase to
describe the visibly large, some say socially and economically
powerful, community of single women and lesbians who live in the Alice.
If the rest of Australia has a ten percent gay population, then 15
percent in Alice are lesbians, with a few brave gay men hanging on at
the fringes.
By late 1996 conversations between Jim, Paul me turned to
entertaining possibilities of overcoming our shared isolation. Between
the three of us we were able to identify a growing group of known or,
at least, suspected gay and lesbian people in and around the town and
were sure that most of them knew a few more. On that basis we thought
we’d take a chance and organise a social function to see who turned up.
Although we were probably anticipating a meeting rather than a
celebration we thought the idea of calling it a party was a more
appealing way to get people to attend. When the night finally came we
weren’t too hopeful of a big attendance. So we were very surprised when
about 50 people came through the door within a couple of hours of the
designated time.
After the success of the first Central Network party in January
1987 it was only natural that people would want more. And providing a
social outlet for the desert's queers had been the primary aim of
forming the group anyway. So, over the next two years there began an
irregular circuit of parties in people's homes around town. Normally
the events were mixed, although some were 'boys only' based on the
householder's preference and the separatist mood of queer politics at
the time. However, by the middle of 1988, most of the welcome mats were
worn out and it was Paul's and my place in the old Eastside that had
become party central. That was alright for a while, but growing
problems with bad behaviour, gatecrashers, and complaining neighbours
soon made the situation untenable.
Paul always enjoyed dressing up. On occasion this took the form of
some fairly spectacular drag that was always guaranteed to turn heads.
A six foot plus woman in six inch heels usually wearing little more
than ladies underwear was pretty hard for most of the locals to ignore,
whether it was in the Sheraton cocktail bar or the beer garden of the
Memorial Club. Fluffy too could easily be talked into a drag outing.
And so it was in August 1987 when they decided to make an appearance at
the then Ansett Bindi Ball; a charity event billed as a costume ball. A
good night was had by all and the boys received plenty of attention
from friends, strangers and the usual throng of confused and excited
straight men. There was even someone there from the social pages of the
local press who flattered the 'ladies' by snapping a few poses and
taking their details. So, it wasn't too much of a surprise when Fluffy
and the bunny girl made an appearance in both the Centralian Advocate
and Sunday Territorian in the following weeks.
By early 1987 things were really starting to take off for Central
Australia's queer community. We had just held our first party and were
organising regular gatherings in people's homes and dining out
together. In this context it seemed like a good idea to rally the
troops and provide a means of letting others know what was happening.
Thus Hot Gossip was born in February of that year. Although it only
managed four slim issues between then and the final one in August 1988,
it is the earliest known record of an attempt at regular queer
publication in Central Australia. It would later be well and truly
surpassed by Desert Dykes; the lesbian newsletter published by Desert
Rose from 1993 into the next century.
AIDS has never been a gay disease. However, throughout the early
years of the epidemic in this country it was clearly gay men who were
most affected and accordingly took up the first positions in the front
line against it. Central Australia was no different and throughout the
late 80's and 90's a small group of gay men, lesbians and their friends
played an instrumental role in shaping the local response. Perhaps the
single greatest act in this regard was the establishment of Australia's
only regional AIDS council.
The decision to be in the 1988 Mardi Gras was a very spontaneous
one. As was often the case a group of Sydney expatriates were regaling
some of the other locals with tales of our former lives in the
Australian gay mecca. I guess, like in many isolated communities, this
was the normal way that we passed on our myths and culture. There was a
lot of wishing that we could be there for it, but we also knew that the
airfare to Sydney was outside the reach of most. In those days there
were no discount fares. I can't remember who, but someone came up with
the wild idea that if we could find the time and pool our resources it
might be possible to drive down. Within a short space of time we had
worked out that we had the means and enough interest to make a go of
it. Once the decision was taken to get there it didn't take long before
we decided we had to be part of the parade. The idea of a group of us
driving roughly 3,000 kilometres to Sydney for the event and not making
sure to let them know what we had done became inconceivable.
This document is an electronic copy of an information sheet that
was provided to people contacting Central Network for the first time;
locals, new arrivals or just visitors passing through. It appeared in a
few different versions over the years. This one is from the late 80s
when the organisation still viewed itself as being primarily for gay
men. By 1991 coverage had been formally extended to the Centre's
lesbian community, although most activities had actually been mixed
from the outset. Then, as now, it provides an insight into how we
viewed ourselves and what we were trying to achieve.
Rose Connolly; a.k.a. Desert Rose, moved to Alice Springs to live
in 1989. After five years of dealing with the isolation and a lesbian
community that she felt could be a bit more organised, Rose determined
to do something about it and together with a small group of helpers
began producing the newsletter; Desert Dykes, that continued to inform
and instruct local women for the better part of a decade.
By 1990 the Central Australian AIDS Action Group (CAAAG);
precursor to the AIDS Council, was becoming increasingly concerned that
the message about HIV was not being heard in Central Australia. Gay men
and lesbians, the straight community, and the Aboriginal population all
tended to view the disease as only relevant to the big cities and then
still only a gay men's problem. Few had any direct experience of AIDS
and most of the public health effort nationally was being directed to
major population centres. Such were the times. To remedy this situation
CAAAG joined with the local NT Department of Health & Community
Services and the Central Australian Aboriginal Congress to seek funding
for a local conference that would give HIV/AIDS a higher local profile
and provide an opportunity for potentially affected groups to meet and
discuss. A key purpose of the event was to bring leading community and
public health experts from the cities into the desert so that they
could gain an appreciation of isolated communities and their needs and
present local people with the latest developments in the field. It was
also decided to bring a prominent PLWHA spokesperson to the event, and
incorporate an unfolding of the AIDS Memorial Quilt.
The first AIDS conference in Central Australia was held in 1990. A
feature of the event was the display of panels from the Australian
section of the Quilt Project. On that occasion quilts commemorating the
lives of three local residents were presented for inclusion. Images of
them are displayed below with brief notes about the lives they
represent.
There was an atmosphere of keen anticipation in early 1992
concerning the impending introduction of anti-discrimination
legislation in the Northern Territory Legislative Assembly. Many
expected that they would finally be provided with some protection from
the kind of negative treatment that had been prevalent over preceding
decades. But, the hopes of the Territory's queer community were dashed
with the announcement that sexuality was to be explicitly excluded from
the grounds on which discrimination would be unlawful. Fortunately some
public and private lobbying, and likely pressure from the federal
government, saw its complete omission overturned. However, while
sexuality would now be included, the draft legislation still had a
sting in its tail and proposed exemptions were announced in the areas
of education and the care of minors. The Country Liberal Party
government was clearly having some difficulty balancing the relaxing
moral views of the broader community with those of its own more
conservative supporters.
Edward John Milera (John Cross) was an Aboriginal man who lived
and worked in Alice Springs from 1992 until he ended his own life in
1995. He made significant contributions to the fight against HIV/AIDS
in the Aboriginal communities of Central Australia, the participation
of Aboriginal men in Central Australian gay social life, and the
profile of Indigenous Australian queers nationally.
By 1993 the AIDS Council of Central Australia had identified a
significant issue with its inability to access younger guys who were
not attached to the local queer community and unlikely to be fully
appreciating the risks of their own behaviour, especially if they
didn't see themselves as homosexual. To try to deal with this issue
ACOCA had lodged a successful application under the Commonwealth AIDS
Prevention and Education grants scheme. The project that was funded had
several aspects, but the main one was for a local media campaign to
communicate directly to young men who were potentially engaging in
unsafe behaviour with other men. Being a bit of a photographer, I
agreed to help Chris with the images for the ad. He recruited a couple
of straight backpackers from a local hostel who were keen on some cash
and we headed to a local park to take some shots. There were lots of
variations in poses and the final one chosen was quite demure; one guy
leaning on the other's knee with his arm across the former's shoulder,
but no eye contact - absolutely nothing risqué. Similarly the
text was pretty inoffensive, or so we thought.
I often wondered if I would ever get around to writing some of my
story since I came to live here in Alice Springs. Buoyed by the success
of the Queers of the Desert I guess now is the time to put down for
posterity, or pure indulgence, some fond memories of my time here - the
people, the magic of the country and the essential spirit of the land
that has left such an indelible impression and impact on my entire
life. No matter how much longer I have left to live; being now in my
51st year, there is nothing that could ever come more close to heaven
for me than this place. I can't begin to express the joys that living
here has brought me - the adventures, the experience, the wonderful
memories and the fantastic opportunities that Alice has provided for
me. She has opened many doors, presented me with a few obstacles,
supported my dreams and created a brilliant reality that I will cherish
all the days of my life.
Desert Dykes was published by Desert Rose Connolly from July, 1993
until the final edition came out in 2002. Although initially provided
as a free newsletter for the Central Australian lesbian community out
of Rose's own pocket, it was later sold for a nominal price to cover
costs and had a number of subscribers in Alice Springs and across the
world. Over the years organisations such as Central Network and the
AIDS Council of Central Australia occasionally came to the rescue and
provided modest subsidies to keep the presses rolling. And while she
tried to make it regular, varying levels of contribution and support
from others meant that there could be extended periods between issues.
Each one canvassed many relevant topics, but Desert Dykes always had a
strong local focus, keeping women in the Centre in touch with events
and informed on matters of interest and importance.
The idea of a national conference for Aboriginal and Torres Strait
Islander queer men was born out of the interest groups at the Central
Australian AIDS Conference held in Alice Springs in 1990. It was here
that many of the organisers first met and, withdrawing from both the
Aboriginal discussion groups dominated by heterosexuals and the gay
men's group dominated by non-Indigenous Australians, determined to take
some action for themselves. After many conversations and meetings a
national organising committee was formed that together with people on
the ground in Alice Springs, such as John Cross, brought Anwernekenhe
into being at Hamilton Downs in 1994.
In 2001 local queer entrepreneurs Phil Walcott and Kalikamurti
Suich decided on a bold undertaking, to develop an Alice Springs link
into the lucrative Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras festival. The idea
was to integrate a local dance party and associated events with Phil's
Rainbow Connection hosted accommodation to produce a local season of
community festivities that would draw national and international
tourists and stimulate the development of a queer tourist market in the
Centre. In celebration of that other famous Alice, the festival was
christened Alice IS Wonderland. Although the festival was notionally
linked to Sydney's Mardi Gras there was never any intention to hold a
parade. The organisers had also rather astutely decided not to invite
local antagonism and only promoted Wonderland amongst the queer
communities in Alice, interstate and overseas. So, it was with some
horror that that they learned, just one month out from the event, that
the Centralian Advocate had obtained copies of their promotional
material and was intending to run a story.
