Yesterday, parliament’s most tireless supporter of queer rights resigned. Sam Brooks thanks Louisa Wall for the road she paved.

On April 17, 2013, the Marriage (Definition of Marriage) Amendment Bill passed in New Zealand, 77 votes to 43. The bill inserted a definition of marriage into the Marriage Act of 1955 as “the union of two people regardless of their sex, sexual orientation or gender identity”. The member’s bill was submitted by Louisa Wall, who yesterday announced her resignation from parliament after 14 years as a Labour MP. It was her first member’s bill and the one that defines her legacy.

The details and drama around Louisa Wall’s resignation will be discussed elsewhere, by people who are far more qualified to speak to those specifics. I’m not writing here about that. I’m writing here to thank her.

On that night in April 2013 I went into the third night of a production of my play, Queen, an earnest screed about being young, queer and othered in a society whose elected officials debated and voted on my rights. 

Look, I never thought that same sex marriage would pass in my lifetime. I remember, like some awful Tarantino flashback, the debates around same sex marriage that happened in both society and parliament. 

I remember feeling anxious and sick to my stomach after the first reading of the bill, which passed 80 to 40, and how it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like 40 too few votes. It feels odd to walk around in a society, counting up to 120 random people, and believing that at least 40 of them don’t want you to have the same rights. If I was aware of that at the time, there’s no doubt Wall was even more so. Last year, she told The Spinoff that she received “thousands and thousands” of pieces of correspondence opposing the bill.

I also remember, with the kind of pride that I rarely reserve for elected officials, the fearless statements of Louisa Wall in that select committee. She pointed out the failings in our society, presumably knowing that it wouldn’t be popular. Take this quote:

“One of the motivating factors for the opponents against this bill is the fact that they still haven’t acknowledged or appreciate that homosexual New Zealanders have the same rights and privileges as non-homosexual New Zealanders.”

At that very same committee, she had to, as a queer Māori woman, defend against the idea that this bill – the right to legal definition and protections – would lead the country on a slippery slope to polygamy, incest and bigamy. That’s the kind of indignity I wouldn’t wish on anybody. At that point, I wouldn’t begrudge anybody steamrolling toes on the road to progress, let alone treading on them.

The second reading passed 77 to 43 – still 43 too few votes in favour – and the third reading followed the same. When it passed, Wall compared the feeling to winning a World Cup final – a feeling that she can actually speak to, having won the Women’s Rugby World Cup with the Black Ferns in 1998.

I could end this piece by thanking her for this bill alone, but Wall has never stopped speaking out for the rights of queer people. In an interview with Express in 2020, she gestured vaguely in the direction of homophobia existing within the Labour Party, suggesting an element of crossover between religious leaders in the Pacific community who didn’t like who she was or what she did with some members in the party. It’s hard to point out the flaws in your own party publicly, and a popular one at that.

Notably, she came to the defence of Laurel Hubbard, the transgender weightlifter who competed at the 2020 Olympics. She stated, with no doubt, that Hubbard had every right to be there. An elected official, a successful sportswoman in her own right, speaking out for the rights of a transgender woman publicly, shouldn’t be an act of bravery, but in an age where Terfs roam the internet freely, it is.

I can’t say if our parliament is worse without Louisa Wall, but it will certainly be less queer. She is not the only person to have worked for queer rights in this country, but I can’t think of anyone who seemed to piss more people off doing it. For every person she pissed off, though, there are thousands who she has made happy, made equal, made human.

On that night in April in 2013, I came out of my show with more rights than I went into it with. I came out into a world where my play was a period piece. I came out feeling happy, feeling equal, feeling a bit more human.

Thank you, Louisa Wall.