Scared straight: A grim gay past

• Published date: 07 February 2021
• Publication title: Herald on Sunday

The revolutions that were taking place globally in fashion, recreational drugs, clubs and counter-culture; human rights and street protests; consumerism; festivals; and alternative communities — these passed us by.

The most inflammatory thing at our family Christmas in 1962 were the crackers on the dining-room table waiting to be pulled; the most intoxicating, the thimblefuls of sweet sherry judiciously poured out.

Christmas gatherings were intergenerational — no one even knew about the generation gap. We met in our family units at my Aunty Doris and Uncle Reg’s place in St Albans, Christchurch, and become a clan.

I am the 4-year-old girl in the light blue sleeveless dress with a white lace ruff in the photo above, sitting slightly separated from the group and eyeballing the presents. The outfit I am wearing is sensible, with just a dash of prettiness in my hair and around my neck. I can grow up to be a teacher, nurse or a secretary.

My world is sublimely simple. Embedded in my consciousness already is the fact that boys and girls become men and women, and then they marry. Women who marry leave the workforce to look after their husbands and children. My parents talk in hushed tones about the women who fail to find a mate. These unfortunates, called spinsters, live on shelves, and their whole existence is a sad, dusty waiting. Like fans at a footy match, they watch — they witness others playing the game, but never handle a ball themselves.

My brother is the adorable little sailor boy sitting on our father Malcolm’s knee, looking into the camera. His costume evokes tots of rum on the high seas, and a world of uncharted adventure.

My brother, Guy, can grow up to be anything. Bachelors fare better than spinsters in discussions around our meal table. Like spinsters, they are observers. There is still a lot of looking and waiting, but far less blame. By not marrying then procreating they fail to make their proper contribution to society. But this can also be admired; viewed with a degree of envy — and this by most married men.

Bachelors do not live on shelves, but swim with the rest of us in the mainstream. They are just that little bit slipperier, faster, freer — they are the ones that got away.

Christchurch was a conservative place when this photograph was taken. The natural order of things was binary, and the prospect of marriage, for most, a fait accompli. But there was a section of the population who were much more of an anathema, even, than spinsters or bachelors.

These were “camp” or “queer” men, and women...