spinofflive
Natasha Vitali and Melissa Ray, one of the first same sex couples to be married in New Zealand in 2013. (Photo: Phil Walter/Getty Images)
Natasha Vitali and Melissa Ray, one of the first same sex couples to be married in New Zealand in 2013. (Photo: Phil Walter/Getty Images)

SocietyApril 17, 2023

The marriage equality bill, 10 years on

Natasha Vitali and Melissa Ray, one of the first same sex couples to be married in New Zealand in 2013. (Photo: Phil Walter/Getty Images)
Natasha Vitali and Melissa Ray, one of the first same sex couples to be married in New Zealand in 2013. (Photo: Phil Walter/Getty Images)

Ten years ago today, the Marriage (Definition of Marriage) Amendment Bill passed, legalising same sex marriage in Aotearoa. Sam Brooks looks back on the landmark moment, with reflections from some of our current rainbow MPs.

On the evening of Wednesday, April 17, 2013, parliament’s public gallery was entirely booked out for the reading of a bill; so many people wanted to be there that another gallery was opened so they could watch remotely. Many MPs passionately spoke in support of the bill, with one going viral with a speech evoking a “big gay rainbow”. When it was eventually passed, the gallery erupted into cheers, flowers were passed around, and a waiata was sung – a moment that also went viral.

That night, The Marriage (Definition of Marriage) Amendment Bill, colloquially known as the Marriage Equality Bill, which would allow people of the same sex to marry, was passed by 77 votes to 44. 

As MPs debated the bill prior to voting, Glen Bennett, one of the 11 rainbow MPs currently in parliament, was glued to the online stream. The video was “a little slow and intermittent”, he says; even worse, it cut out entirely just as the vote was being announced.

He needn’t have worried. “When I managed to reconnect, hearing the result wasn’t necessary… I saw clapping, hugging and heard ‘Pōkarekare Ana’ being sung,” Bennett says, remembering the spine-tingling spontaneous waiata from the public gallery in the moments after the votes were read. “I was sitting in my lounge in New Plymouth, with tears of joy running down my face.”

Eight years later, the Labour MP married his husband in parliament’s legislative chamber. “The history and power of parliament buildings wasn’t lost on us,” Bennett says. “This was the place responsible for the oppression of rainbow people and many other communities. But it has also been, and I hope will continue to be a place of liberation.”

The marriage equality bill had been put in the ballot box by Labour MP Louisa Wall less than a year earlier, on May 30, 2012. It was drawn on July 26 of that same year. The first reading passed 80 votes to 40, the second by 77 to 44, a tally that held for the third and final reading. Wall had been  hoping to get 61 votes in favour, so seeing the final numbers was “very special”, she told the NZ Herald.

According to Green MP Dr Elizabeth Kerekere (Whānau a Kai, Ngāti Oneone, Te Aitanga a Māhaki, Rongowhakaata and Ngāi Tāmanuhiri) the reason marriage equality “sailed through” was the long-term community advocacy that fought for it, and the Civil Union Act of 2005 that preceded it. “Rainbow people form whānau in many and diverse ways”, she says. “For those who want marriage, they should have that right. Each stage has moved us toward a world that acknowledges the mana, mauri and wairua of all Rainbow whānau.”

Still, it wasn’t all plain sailing. A 50,000-signature petition against the bill was delivered to parliament by anti-gay marriage lobbyists supported by Family First. Of the 44 MPs who voted against the bill in its final reading, many are still in parliament today – not including Winston Peters, however, who wanted the issue to go to a public referendum. At the time, he said, “This matter is, by definition, one of public morality and if New Zealand is to have a public morality it must be decided by the public, the voters of New Zealand.”

For Green MP Jan Logie, the passing of the bill is a highlight of her parliamentary career so far. “It was such a positive campaign focused on love and universal values and the debate in parliament by and large reflected that”, she says. “It was a marker in time that showed we had made real progress as a country towards inclusion.” Momentum from the bill helped the Green Party set up the Cross Party Rainbow Network, she says, and work towards “the expungement of homosexual convictions and changes to enable gender self-identification.”

Although a landmark moment, passing marriage equality was but one step along the road to fully equal rights and protections for queer people in Aotearoa. It was only a year ago that legislation banning conversion therapy was passed, and our hate speech laws still do not cover gender or sexuality. “The law change was a really important step forward,” says Green MP Ricardo Menendez, “but the fight for the genuine liberation of all queer people and queer relationships by our institutions continues, 10 years later.” 

A lot of the “grotesque dog whistle politics” of 10 years ago remain today, he says, and now it targets trans people. “It’s important that we stand in solidarity with those facing the brunt of the hate and strive towards liberation for all.”

Newlywed couple Ally Wanikau (L) and Lynley Bendall share their first dance during the reception inside the Air New Zealand hangar on August 19, 2013. (Photo: Sandra Mu/Getty Images)

Although the bill passed on April 17, it wasn’t until August 19 that the first same sex couples in New Zealand could get married. Fifteen couples in Auckland, six in Wellington and Christchurch and four in Rotorua jumped at the chance to be wed on day one of the new era. A couple that received particular media attention was Natasha Vitali and Melissa Ray, who had won a radio competition for their all-expenses-paid ceremony and had Reverend Matt Tittle of the Auckland Unitarian Church as their celebrant after other churches refused to perform the marriage. Another was Lynley Bendall and Ally Wanikau, who were married on an Air New Zealand flight between Auckland and Queenstown. (Bizarrely, Modern Family actor Jesse Tyler Ferguson was in attendance.)

For Logie, who says she herself is “not of the marrying kind”, the law has been all joy. “I have got to attend glorious weddings of people I love and my long-term partner gets to express her love of a running gag by pretending to propose and me saying no.”

Since those headline-making marriages, there have been 7,003 same sex marriages in New Zealand – compared to 214,364 “opposite” sex marriages (as well as 346 same sex civil unions compared to 470 “opposite” sex civil unions). That’s a lot of joy.

I was 22 when the bill was passed. At the time, a show I’d written when I was 19 –  essentially a deeply embarrassing collection of diary entries of what it was like to be a young queer man – was being staged. The issue of marriage never came up when I was writing, because I was a navel-gazing 19-year-old and because getting married wasn’t part of my potential future. It simply wasn’t possible in the country I lived in. 

That night, the queer people in the audience walked into the theatre without the same legal right to marriage that everybody else had. They walked out with the right to marry. It’s a moment I’ll never forget, even as it occasionally slips my mind that not so long ago, I wouldn’t have been able to marry the man that I loved. The 2013 amendment to the Marriage Act 1955 defines marriage as “the union of two people, regardless of their sex, sexual orientation or gender identity”. Fourteen blandly formal words , but ones that carry a colossal weight. Not just for the 7,003 marriages that they’ve allowed to happen, but for any queer person who now knows their country doesn’t view them as being any less worthy than a straight person.

Labour MP Louisa Wall takes part in the Auckland Pride Parade along Ponsonby Road in 2014 (Photo: Phil Walter/Getty Images, Image Design: Tina Tiller)

On the 10th anniversary of the bill’s passing, it feels right to give the last word to Louisa Wall, the driving force behind a law that has changed countless lives for the better. 

“I am proud to have contributed with MP colleagues across our parliament, for all New Zealanders regardless of their sex, sexual orientation and gender diversity being able to marry,” she says. “This was a concrete shift in our collective values by the people of Aotearoa New Zealand and a sign of our maturation as a nation. We will not tolerate discrimination against people based on their sexual and gender diversity, and that’s something we should all be proud of.”

‘He mea tautoko nā ngā mema atawhai. Supported by our generous members.’
Liam Rātana
— Ātea editor
Keep going!
A digital illustration of a floor-to-ceiling aquarium, with scuba divers and statues all in blue underwater. The silhouette of the author is in the foreground, staring into the water

The Sunday EssayApril 16, 2023

The Sunday Essay: A utopian dystopia 

A digital illustration of a floor-to-ceiling aquarium, with scuba divers and statues all in blue underwater. The silhouette of the author is in the foreground, staring into the water

Five strange days in Dubai, the world capital of crass consumerism and empty excess.

The Sunday Essay is made possible thanks to the support of Creative New Zealand.

Illustrations by Link Choi

Day 1

I wonder if the stingrays behind me have an opinion on which handbag I should buy.

Mum and I are at the Guess store in the Dubai Mall, where I’m letting her pick out her own birthday present. From the sale section. We’re making the most of our five day stopover in Dubai, en route to India to visit family. This holiday marks the first time in four years that I’ve left the quiet of Aotearoa, and all of my senses are overstimulated.

I spend forever rifling through totes and crossbodies but all that catches my eye are the tails of the stingrays, whipping around to create bubbles in unnaturally blue water.

Only the tycoons of Dubai would see it fit to install a 10 million litre aquarium across three floors of a mall.

The cursed fishbowl displays 140 different species and holds one of the largest collections of sand tiger sharks in the world. They must feel right at home, nestled between H&M and The Cheesecake Factory. Back home, in the summer, you could spot rays gliding around the waterfront, soaking up the sunshine before returning to deeper waters. To catch a glimpse of a ray was a gift from nature. Here, it is a given.

While shoppers pause to watch the fish, I pause to watch them.

The customers streaming in and out of luxury designer stores look like faeries or monsters or gods. Head to toe in Gucci or Louis Vuitton ensembles tailored to perfection, they drip opulence and excess. Children get pushed around in prams with iPads in their hands and Balenciagas on their tootsies. Logomania reigns supreme.

If these shoppers were Sims, the green diamond floating above their heads would be replaced by a net worth. I can imagine their shock if I told them that David Jones, the only luxury department store in Wellington, shut down from a lack of business.

An illustration of blue flowers on a white background

I thought I liked my outfit when I got dressed this morning. An oversized pink tier dress from Mirrou hangs from my shoulders, topped with a khaki hand-me-down jacket from my dad. I’m in my “I love clothes that shroud my figure in ambiguity” era.

Now, I wish my cheap dress would swallow me whole. Turn inside out and envelope me into a parachute of pink viscose until I float back to where I came from.

Day 2 

At breakfast, gazing out the hotel window, the Museum of the Future sits directly in my line of sight. Shaped like an eye, it gazes back. Investigating its offerings is how I spend my second day on holiday.

The museum sits inside a mesmerising circular building, hollow in the centre, futuristic on all accounts. It explores Dubai’s vision of a sustainable and innovative future.

Expecting a Te Papa-esque experience, I’m confused by the lack of fossils and relics. There isn’t a taxidermied animal in sight. A nearby guide explains that I won’t find any historical items here. “Why look backwards, when you can look forwards?” he asks me.

I realise that this isn’t a museum in the traditional sense – it’s a spectacle. State-of-the-art technology shows me how the Amazon can be saved and fire-resistant trees can be engineered. Interactive exhibits urge visitors to care about climate change without ever explaining how we can make a difference. Like everything else in Dubai, this place is breathtakingly beautiful and removed from reality.

While the museum charges visitors an entrance fee to indulge in its environmental solutions, I can’t spot a single plaque that says it is committed to executing them. If I didn’t know what greenwashing was, I would’ve happily been schmoozed by the empty promises.

Dubai is what you would get if the richest people on Earth colonised Mars and built a civilisation in their image. An endless desert decorated with skyscrapers and entangled highways. A fantastical utopian dystopia where hotels are plentiful but greenery is not, where drinking water always costs money and recycling bins seem non-existent.

I had high hopes for what the future may bring. Climate justice, free health care, the bridging of the gap between the haves and the have-nots.

Then I saw the future, and I hated it.

Day 3 

I’m in the Louvre. No, not the one in Paris. The one in Abu Dhabi.

Mum and I make a spontaneous day trip here to see family friends and I drag us all to an actual museum. As a student of history and a lover of culture, I finally have a chance to lose myself in rooms where everything is beautiful and nothing is for sale.

An illustration of greens and blues in the background with the white silhouettes of pillars in a row

The only thing standing between me and the most intriguing artefact in the exhibit is a woman in stilettos conducting an Instagram photoshoot.

She poses directly in front of the exhibit, obstructing it from view. A designer handbag tucked into her elbow, she feigns nonchalance. Her friend photographs her from every imaginable angle. They leave without deigning to read the label. I reassure myself it must be because they’ve been here before.

Beside the exhibit/photoshoot backdrop is a collection of nude Roman statues. There is not a genital in sight. Erased for modesty, I deduce.

I make eye contact with the marble Ken doll closest to me. “Your phallus may have fallen off while you were being shipped here,” I telepathically console him. The nipple-less female nude bust next to him remains unconvinced.

In the evening, we set out for the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque, the largest mosque in the UAE. A place of worship is sure to grant me the serenity I desperately seek. I approach the entrance, the doors open, and I am greeted with the glowing light of … a Starbucks. Shoppers walk past me with several bags in each hand. I rub my eyes in disbelief.

There is a mall inside the mosque.

The author at the Gold Souk, left, and censored statues at a Dubai museum (Photos: Supplied)

Day 4 

The Gold Souk is a traditional street market that sells jewellery, chainmail, tiaras, and even sunglasses – all made of solid gold. The further down the market we walk, the further my jaw drops. Mum laughs as I point to a mannequin wearing sturdy gold armour and asks if I want a picture with it.

Nearly 400 traders have stalls in this souk, bringing in luxury wares from all over the world. Dubai is home to expats from over 200 countries, speaking dozens of languages. And I feel like I’ve been called “poor” in every single one of them.

Day 5 

I am standing at the base of the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world, and stretching my neck back as far as it will go. I haven’t bothered getting a ticket up to the top floor to admire the city’s view. I’ve seen enough.

Day 6

While adjusting my luggage in the taxi, I spot a billboard proudly advertising that SeaWorld is set to open its newest park in Abu Dhabi. It will display over 150 different species – 10 more than in the measly puddle inside the Dubai Mall.

I am reminded of the scene from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone where Dudley’s parents scramble to buy their petulant child more presents for his current birthday than they did his last. Did the Durselys know they had created an insatiable monster, caught up in a pissing contest with itself?

I silently scream into my inflatable neck pillow all the way to the airport.

But wait there's more!