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Photo: Ace of Hearts
Photo: Ace of Hearts

SocietyNovember 19, 2020

Ace of Hearts shows what it really means to identify as asexual

Photo: Ace of Hearts
Photo: Ace of Hearts

Endless misconceptions exist about people who identify as ‘ace’, and filmmaker Julie Zhu wants to clear some of them up in Frame documentary Ace of Hearts.

“Bisexuality used to be ‘the invisible sexuality’, but now I feel like asexuality is. I see people in the LGBT community saying it’s not part of the LGBT spectrum.”

“People think asexuality is some sort of deficiency, like your hormones aren’t working, or that you have a problem that can be fixed.”

“I don’t tell many people because I don’t want people to not believe me. People say it’s just a label people put on themselves when they’ve been single a long time.”

“You not only have to come out to people, you have to explain what you are too which means there’s a whole other level of responsibility. I think asexuality is similar to bisexuality where people say it’s not queer enough and you’re not really part of the community which really grinds my gears because to be asexual is to inherently be queer.”

These are just some of the thoughts shared by people who responded to the documentary callout for Ace of Hearts.

Sexuality is not a straight line from homosexuality to heterosexuality, and nor is there a straight line between asexuality and allosexuality – the term used for someone who experiences sexual attraction. There are inconsistencies, interruptions, conflicts, and many people find themselves identifying within the grey. An asexual person is defined by AVEN (Asexuality Visibility and Education Network) as “a person who does not experience sexual attraction”, but the website also acknowledges that “there is a broad spectrum between end points of ‘asexual’ and ‘very sexual’ with differing levels of sexuality.”

The spectrum of asexuality can include greysexual (those who only experience sexual attraction rarely or at a very limited level), demisexuality (those who only experience sexual attraction after an emotional bond is formed), akiosexual (having sexual/romantic feelings but not wanting to act or having those feelings reciprocated), aegosexual (those who may get aroused by sexual content but do not desire a sexual relationship for themselves in real life), and many more. There can be sex-repulsed, sex-neutral, and sex-favourable aces. 

There is also a split between sexual attraction and romantic attraction. People may feel romantically attracted to certain people but not sexually attracted, or vice versa. People may identify as aromantic (not feeling romantic attraction towards anyone), heteroromantic (feeling romantic attraction towards people of the opposite gender), homoromantic (feeling romantic attraction towards people of the same gender), panromantic (feeling romantic attraction to people irrespective of gender), and so on.

It’s entirely possible to be ace and not know the terminology. It’s also possible to know the terminology and still not know if it applies to you. In fact, a defining part of asexuality seems to be questioning whether you are. Online ace forums are full of questions from people wondering whether asexuality and the spectrum it encompasses is for them. Generally, the answers on forums are incredibly supportive and welcoming. There is little gatekeeping and anyone who finds the labels helpful in any way is welcome to them. It’s also fine to identify with the labels for a period and then move on. Nothing delegitimises you, and no one is forced to stick to the same labels forever.

Still, it’s easier to say in certain contexts than others that I feel queer, ace, or on the asexual spectrum. In other contexts, all the self-doubt and questioning will come flooding back. Am I just making this up? How can I know for sure how I feel? Am I making a big deal out of something that really doesn’t impact my life that much? Will I one day feel differently and all of this will feel like a mistake to have talked about?

Making this documentary has helped with that. Having the initial research conversations with the people who responded to the callout was eye-opening and validating. So many stories and experiences felt relatable, and it was hard to only hone in on a few voices to highlight.

Within this documentary, there are asexual voices, aromantic voices, demisexual, panromantic, heteroromantic, gay, queer, takatāpui, non-binary, and trans voices. There are people in relationships, people with kids, people with disabilities. All of this serves to show that there’s not just one model of what asexuality looks like. 

These individuals have complex lives with a range of different passions, and most said that being on the ace spectrum wasn’t the defining element of their lives – a lack of something rarely is. And maybe that’s the reason the “ace community”, more than most communities, exists less cohesively and less collected as a “community”. Particularly in Aotearoa, ace communities are small and mostly online. Some Facebook groups exist but with shifting seasons of activity and lull.

By making this documentary I wanted to emphasise the fluidity and spectrum of sexuality – that it’s not a binary of asexual or allosexual, that love can be valid in multiple other forms, that a progressive sex-positive society can and should make room for those who tend to find sex less relevant too. 

And it does feel like ace discourse is gaining momentum and visibility. In her recent book Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex, journalist Angela Chen argues that ace liberation could help everyone by deconstructing sexual and romantic normativity. Aces want the borders of sexualities to be broken, to be malleable, and everyone can benefit from this fluidity. 

Whether you identify or present as straight, fluid, queer, asexual, allosexual, the breaking down of rigidity and binaries can be freeing for everyone.

Frame is a series of short, standalone documentaries produced by Wrestler for The Spinoff. Watch more here.

Made with support from NZ On Air.

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Sahrawi refugees living in the El-Aiun camp in Algeria appeal to New Zealand, July 2019 (supplied)
Sahrawi refugees living in the El-Aiun camp in Algeria appeal to New Zealand, July 2019 (supplied)

SocietyNovember 19, 2020

How ‘blood phosphate’ has made New Zealand complicit in a foreign war

Sahrawi refugees living in the El-Aiun camp in Algeria appeal to New Zealand, July 2019 (supplied)
Sahrawi refugees living in the El-Aiun camp in Algeria appeal to New Zealand, July 2019 (supplied)

New Zealand is the world’s only major purchaser of phosphate from Western Sahara, where mineral revenues are driving a newly declared war. Amal Samaha explains what you need to know.

On Friday morning, leaders of the Polisario Front, a Sahrawi independence group in Western Sahara, declared war on the Kingdom of Morocco over the latter’s violation of a decades-long truce that brought an uneasy peace to the region since 1991.

Small-scale regional wars are becoming more common in 2020, be it the Armenian-Azerbaijani war over Artsakh, escalating tensions between Ethiopia and Tigray, or the more long-running conflicts in Libya, Syria, Yemen or Afghanistan. Disease and increasing economic uncertainty, it seems, are pushing many of the world’s longstanding ethnic and political divides to the fore.

But what sets this new conflict apart from the others, which can so easily be reduced to little-read headlines?

In short, New Zealand is a key player in this war, whether we know it or not. It comes down to our preferences in fertiliser.

The conflict so far

In the late 19th century, Spanish settlers claimed the region as the so-called Spanish Sahara, but they never fully controlled the indigenous Sahrawi population. By the 1970s, a declining Spanish State under Franscisco Franco handed control of the region over to Morocco and Mauritania, worried that an indigenous resistance movement – the Polisario Front – would gain control. Mauritania was soon beaten back by the Polisario Front, but Moroccan troops remained.

In the mid 1980s, Moroccan troops built a large sand wall across the entire length of the territory. The wall, which the Sahrawi call “the wall of shame,” blocked off all of the economically useful areas of the territory, such as cities, mines and ports, from the eastern sand dunes.

About 160,000 Sahrawi were displaced by the conflict. The majority live in refugee camps in Algeria, which also became the Polisario Front’s new base of operations.

By 1991, both parties were exhausted from decades of conflict, and Polisario leaders agreed to a ceasefire which ultimately gave Morocco control of the territory, on the condition that an independence referendum be held sometime in the future.

However, the UN-held referendum never came, and it seems unlikely it ever will.

Protesters at Lyttelton port, September 2019 (Photo: RNZ / Anan Zaki)

Why fight over desert?

The various countries involved justify the conflict as a war of rightful claims, historic ties, and ethnic identity, but while many may fight for these reasons, there is one overwhelming reason why so many countries have tried to control this arid landscape. Despite seeming lifeless, the desert abounds in resources: the sea is home to rich fisheries, and the desert itself hides valuable mineral deposits.

The right to profit off of these resources was the main motive behind the Spanish handover (after which Spain retained 35% of Moroccan profits), and it is still the driving force behind conflict today.

The Moroccan state in particular has come to depend upon mineral revenues. The state owns 95% of the OCP group, a company which has a near-monopoly on the world’s supply of phosphate, with access to 70% of the world’s supply.

Phosphate is a valuable fertiliser, and the rock phosphate produced in the OCP group’s mines in Morocco and Western Sahara is considered the best for manufacturing “superphosphate,” which New Zealand companies say is best suited to our soil.

But because of the role this phosphate has in funding armed conflict, activist groups and watchdogs have coined a new term for the product: “blood phosphate.”

‘Blood phosphate’ in New Zealand

Much of the world has refused to trade in these blood phosphates. In 2016 a European court ruled that Western Sahara should not be considered a part of Morocco, at least when it comes to trade deals. A year later, 50,000 tons of phosphate rocks bound for New Zealand were impounded in South Africa, drawing further attention to the practice, and adding to the international legal precedent.

Despite this, New Zealand companies, in particular Ballance Agri-Nutrients and Ravensdown, continue to import Western Saharan phosphate in huge quantities.

Indeed, New Zealand is the only remaining substantial buyer for the product.

After the phosphate ship NM Cherry Blossom was impounded in South Africa, other ships have had to take convoluted, circuitous routes to hide their cargo, source, and destination from watchdogs and activists. Last year, the Venture Pearl loaded a cargo at El-Aiun in Western Sahara, only to list its destination as first Rio de Janiero, then Cape Horn, and then China, before finally heading to New Zealand.

The deceit is perhaps understandable, given dockworkers with the Rail and Maritime Transport Union threatened to go on strike rather than unload more blood phosphate, after another ship, the Federal Crimson, was found to be carrying rock phosphate to Napier, Lyttelton and Port Chalmers last year. An earlier ship, the Amoy Dream, was also met with protests as it docked in Dunedin and Lyttelton.

These pressures culminated earlier this year in the Polisario Front taking the New Zealand Super Fund to court over its use of blood phosphate on 25 farms owned by the fund.

Despite pressure to change its practices, Ravensdown has continued to state that these imports are legal so long as OCP and the Moroccan state abides by UN agreements, and maintains a non-discriminatory working environment on its sites.

What next for blood phosphate?

Now that the UN-brokered ceasefire is no longer in effect, Ravensdown and Ballance Agri-Nutrients’ justification for the continued use of blood phosphate is severely out of date. It will be difficult for Ravensdown to argue that they are “satisfied that OCP does comply with the UN framework at this time” when the Morroccan state, OCP’s owner, is in violation of the truce.

In addition to renewed legal troubles, the fertiliser companies are also confronted with nationwide protest actions since the truce was broken. Protestors from Extinction Rebellion, Environmental Justice Ōtepoti and Free Western Sahara shut down Ravensdown and Ballance depots in Carterton, Mt Maunganui, and Taieri on Monday morning, while also blockading Ravensdown’s Christchurch HQ.

The Polisario Front, for its part, says that it has lost all hope for a UN-led resolution to the crisis, after UN member states largely failed to reprimand Morocco for its actions on Friday. On Saturday, the Front announced that “war had begun,” with Polisario forces firing on several Moroccan encampments along the wall.

Minister of information of the Polisario Front, Hamada Salma, made it clear that Morocco’s actions in Guerguerat had crushed any hopes of peace, adding that “things will not return to what they were without being deterred by the Moroccan regime, which is responsible throughout this period for obstructing a peaceful solution in the region”.

The UN has called for peace in the region, but its mission in the area is considered one of the world’s least capable, with no mandate for monitoring human rights or peacekeeping.

Given that the situation in Western Sahara appears to be escalating, it seems unlikely that New Zealand’s fertiliser corporations will be able to continue business as usual. Be it supply disruptions as a result of war, or increased legal and political challenges, the phosphate will not flow as easily as it once did.

But alternatives to this blood phosphate do remain. Internal Super Fund documents released under the Official Information Act in April 2019 revealed that “[the] ministry of foreign affairs and trade says there are alternative sources. New Zealand only started getting phosphate from the Western Sahara in the 1980s.”

Blood phosphate, it seems, is simply cheaper for the time being. It remains to be seen whether increased public pressure, or perhaps political leadership, can guide New Zealand away from its complicity in this foreign conflict.