This article was originally published in Junkee.com, 7 March, 2015
I’ve been to Mardi Gras twice in my life; once when my parents took me as a child, and again a few years ago, when I marched in the parade. As someone heavily engaged in queer life and politics, it feels like it should be an annual event for me. Yet it isn’t, and I’m often left wondering why.
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The Political History Of Mardi Gras
Sydney’s first Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras was held in 1978 as a festival and march held in commemoration of the Stonewall riots in the United States. On the event’s biggest day, about 2,000 protestors took to the streets, calling for an end to the discrimination of LGBTIQ people.
But in the march’s final stages, trouble began to brew. Police began harassing the lead float, eventually arresting the driver of the truck. This was followed by a full-on assault, with police blocking off streets and physically abusing marchers. Eventually, 53 people were arrested.
The violence launched protests around the country. More marches were held in Sydney and in other major cities, with many more arrested in the following months. Eventually, all those arrested at the original Mardi Gras had their charges dropped, and the next year the event was held again. A very important tradition had been born.
image: http://junkee.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/mardigras.jpg
Politics has been present in the march ever since. In the 1980s, the HIV/AIDS crisis dominated the event, while the 1990s turned its attention to the conservative policies of the Howard government. The march my parents took me to featured prominent floats that attacked Pauline Hanson and Amanda Vanstone (who was Immigration Minister at the time). The early 2000s saw marchers take on the Iraq War, and in recent years marriage equality has come to dominate the parade.
Yet, while the politics is still there, the inclusive and more radical approach to the early festivals has increasingly been lost.
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Mardi Gras Today: Have The Politics Disappeared?
A clever article from SBS’ satire branch The Backburner last week ran with the headline, ‘Fred Nile: Mardi Gras Isn’t As Good As It Used To Be’. In the piece, “Nile” was quoted to say, “Now [Mardi Gras is] just an excuse for straight people to come along and get smashed – the beauty and radicalism of the subculture is basically gone.”
Though in reality, Fred Nile’s thoughts are a little more scathing, the satire has some truth; Mardi Gras is often criticised for losing its political edge. As Dennis Altman explains in The Guardian, “a few nostalgic radicals claim it is no longer political, that it has become a captive of the commercialisation and respectability of gay life.” This is certainly the feeling I had when I went as an adult for the first time. I felt disappointed at what I perceived to be a focus on parties over political change. Yet on reflection, what I was feeling was not disappointment at a lack of politics, but rather at the type of politics which was being expressed.
Of course, the existence of the festival is political in and of itself. Mardi Gras still remains an important expression of pride by the LGBTIQ community, and one which gives many people a sense of community they may have never found before. Bringing marginalised people together in this way, whether to march in a parade or go to a big party, is deeply political. The problem is that the festival has moved in a similar direction to much of the mainstream gay and lesbian movement — to a politics that only works for particular members of the community.
Shifting away from its early liberationist roots, over the past couple of decades much of the lesbian and gay movement has become more mainstream, and in turn more conservative. It’s moved primarily onto campaigning for same sex marriage — an issue that dominates large non-government organisations and more socially progressive political parties (both the ALP and Greens). Unfortunately this focus has come at the expense of many other issues facing LGBTIQ people. Marriage equality campaigns consume large amounts of limited resources, and at times have actively shafted other issues in order to achieve results; even if it was short-lived, the same-sex marriage legislation in the ACT completely left out trans* people.
This shift has happened for one reason in particular: as the LGBTIQ movement has grown, it has become dominated by wealthier middle-class interests. Marriage equality is the most obvious issue for this group; while of course marriage is an enduring area of legal discrimination, same-sex marriage also largely benefits the middle class. Marriage equality’s main beneficiaries are those gays and lesbians who have the resources, support and stability to get married in the first place.
In recent years, marriage equality has dominated the message of Mardi Gras floats, and marriage campaign material has become a key focus of the festival make-up; the 2012 theme of ‘Universal and Infinite Love’ was practically a tagline for same-sex marriage.
But in its adoption of these middle class politics, Mardi Gras has lost some of its inclusive tone. In the past, the festival has even threatened to exclude polyamorous groups, and police are still invited to march despite continued examples of violence and discrimination.
Mardi Gras has moved to become more palatable to a broader community — focusing more on commercialisation, large and professionally-run parties, and politics that are safer for the mainstream.
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The Need For A More Inclusive Message
Of course, these changes can be viewed in a positive light. The growth and spread of Mardi Gras highlights the progress LGBTIQ people have made. It is a show of celebration where we come together as a community, and a party we should be having. It is still extremely valuable.
But this celebration, like much of the mainstream lesbian and gay movement, often leaves out the reality of discrimination so many still face. Young queer people face mental health problems, trans people face ongoing violence, intersex people still undergo forced medical procedures, and religious groups are still legally allowed to discriminate against LGBTIQ students and employees.
These issues are of course not entirely ignored by Mardi Gras. This year’s First Nations float, for example, will challenge much of the queerphobia Indigenous people can often face in their communities. Last year many of the floats highlighted Russia’s anti-gay legislation — an important show of solidarity for the many queer people around the world who continue to face discrimination because of their sexuality. But these are often pushed to the sidelines to make way for more palatable issues and events.
Mardi Gras is the most important event on the Australian LGBTIQ calendar; an important celebration of where we have come from, and an important part of our continued struggle. To continue this great legacy we need to keep it inclusive, and keep it political.