Latest news with #queer
Irish Times
3 hours ago
- Politics
- Irish Times
Berlin LGBTQ refuge carries ‘psychological burden' as homophobic attacks rise
With its large windows, exposed brick walls and long wooden tables, Berlin's Cafe Hoven is a welcoming place with a familiar aesthetic. In the last 18 months, though, the queer cafe-bar has been attacked, staff threatened, fire extinguishers sprayed in the door, homophobic insults smeared on the windows and Nazi slogans sprayed on the walls. 'People should be safe here,' said owner Danjel Zarte. 'So it's a huge psychological burden that I have to worry that something will happen to someone.' Between Hoven and two other queer bars he owns, Zarte has filed 45 police complaints in the last 18 months, all linked to homophobic violence. After 15 years in Berlin, viewing his adoptive home a gay-friendly refuge, he senses something dramatic is happening. READ MORE Official statistics agree with him, suggesting a quadrupling in the last decade of violence based on sexual orientation/ identity/ diversity. Across Berlin, attacks on queer people and property are now a daily occurrence, says Berlin's Maneo project against homophobic violence. It logs two to three cases daily, but estimates that 80 per cent of victims never come forward. Some see the shift as part of rising social anxiety, part of a pushback against all minorities – Jews, Muslims, foreign nationals – that is reflected in the rise of the far right Alternative for Germany (AfD). Danjel Zarte, who owns the queer Cafe Hoven, has been the target of regular attacks in the last 18 months One of its leaders, Alice Weidel , lives with a woman, yet party politicians regularly frame non-heterosexual people as perverts, paedophiles and a danger to children. Some see Germany's ruling Christian Democratic Union (CDU), just three points ahead of the AfD in polls, engaging in dog whistle politics at the expense of LGBT campaigners. CDU Bundestag president Julia Klöckner ended the practice of flying the rainbow flag during Pride season over the Reichstag federal parliament building. 'The black-red-gold flag already flying over our parliament can't be beaten,' said Ms Klöckner. 'It stands for freedom and individuality, including sexual identity.' Citing the neutrality obligation of the state, Klöckner has banned parliamentary staffers from marching in Berlin's pride parade on Saturday. CDU chancellor Friedrich Merz backed her flag decision, arguing 'the Bundestag is not a circle tent'. His federal government's own queer commissioner Sophie Koch, from the centre-left Social Democratic Party (SPD), hit back, saying: 'If the rainbow flag is the flag of a circus, then what are queer people?' [ As summer heats up, the controversy over one teacher's claims of homophobia is boiling over Opens in new window ] Organisers of Saturday's CSD parade hope the shocks over the flag and rising violence can repoliticise a queer community more used to tolerance and progress. 'For the first time since the second World War we are not fighting for new rights but to preserve the ones we have,' said Thomas Hoffmann, a board member of Berlin's pride parade. Berlin's problems pale next to an alarming spike in violence towards regional LGBTQI+ organisations, people and parades. Last year the Amadeu Antonio Foundation – which engages against far right extremism, racism and anti-Semitism – logged 55 separate attacks on pride parades around Germany. As the tensions build from without, fault lines are growing, too, within the community. The decision of some LGBTQI+ groups to join forces with Gaza solidarity groups has others uncomfortable with what they see as damaging links to more extreme Palestinian groups and people. Another crack opened up when Kevin Kühnert, a former SPD politician, spoke of his experience of 'aggressive homophobia' in his Berlin neighbourhood, which he saw as driven by strict conservative role models and religious fundamentalism. 'In my experience, it is from men I would perceive as Muslim that you are more likely to get a homophobic remark than would otherwise be the case,' he told Der Spiegel. While the majority of the local Muslim population were not homophobic, he added, 'those who are restrict my freedom and have no right to that – and I will not be silent about this for tactical reasons". The blowback was immediate from Alfonso Pantisano, SPD queer liaison officer for Berlin's city-state government. He urged a differentiated view of homophobia as a broad phenomenon with many perpetrator groups from far right extremists to religious fundamentalists. 'I simply don't understand why we always pick out Muslims as a singular phenomenon,' he said. That in turn has prompted critical pushback from Maneo and others on the front lines of the rise in homophobic hate crime. For them, the readiness to identify perpetrator groups is key to effective prevention programmes. 'We have to call things out as they are and, in Berlin, we have a problem on this front,' said Bastian Finke, head of the Maneo anti-violence group. 'But if this is not taken seriously then we cannot have a [positive] effect.'
RNZ News
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- RNZ News
How Samoa's Ballroom scene is carving space for Pacific futures
By Dinah Lewis Boucher , ABC Advocates say the goal isn't just about existing — it's about thriving at home. Photo: ABC / Dinah Lewis Boucher On a warm Tuesday night in Fugalei in Apia, Samoa's capital, the air hums with anticipation as a local hall fills with young people. With the Boom Kaisi Ball just days away, Pacific Rainbow+ youth have gathered for a series of workshops designed to build confidence and community in preparation for their ballroom debut. Rooted in queer Black and Latinx resistance, ballroom culture is an underground art form of performance, fashion, and chosen family now finding resonance in Samoa. It's characterised by elaborate balls, where individuals or "houses" compete in performance and dance categories. Still, beyond competition, it serves as a safe space and chosen family structure for queer individuals, fostering a sense of belonging and self-expression. Miss Samoa Fa'afafine, Ella Ganza says it means a lot to be in 'the motherland' championing community. Photo: ABC / Dinah Lewis Boucher "Ballroom is made for the confident girls," Ella Ganza said on the mic as music started to blast and participants eyed the runway, preparing to walk. As the reigning Miss Samoa Fa'afafine and Mother of the House of Alexander, she guides Samoa's youth through the world of ballroom, a deeply personal mission to uplift her community. "To see the youth, my younger sisters and brothers, be authentic, feel safe, and be celebrated in a way that's just completely them…I cried almost every night after the workshop," she told ABC Pacific. The introduction of ballroom to Samoa is a recent development, with events and workshops aimed at empowering and creating safe spaces. Photo: ABC / Dinah Lewis Boucher "It's not just about the performance - it's about nurturing a space where our young ones feel safe, celebrated, and completely themselves. "This is a calling. And it's a calling not just for us, but for those who stand with us, to serve, to protect, and to help our youth feel seen." Watching on in preparation to walk runway. Photo: ABC / Dinah Lewis Boucher For Rosie, a cisgender woman and chosen house mother, being part of this community is about allyship and chosen family. "Definitely 'chosen family' is how I'd describe it, because they chose me to be their mother," she told ABC Pacific. Rosie, wears pink flower in right ear, stands with the children of her house. Photo: ABC / Dinah Lewis Boucher As someone from outside the queer community, she said the role helped her practice inclusivity and mentor the younger generation. "This environment, with all the laughter and bonding, brings out their confidence and helps them be more expressive," she said. "I hope what they take from this journey is that they are loved - and that they are safe." Ballroom culture developed as a safe space and creative outlet for marginalised LGBTQ+ individuals, particularly Black and Latinx individuals, who faced discrimination in mainstream society. Photo: ABC / Dinah Lewis Boucher In Samoa, gender diversity has long existed outside of Western binary norms. Fa'afafine, meaning "in the manner of a woman", has been part of Samoan society for centuries. Recognised across Samoa as a third gender, fa'afafine embody a gender identity that doesn't fit neatly into male or female categories. "It's an umbrella term," Ella said, "whereas in the Western world, we like to put labels on every little thing. Are you trans? Are you gay? Are you non-binary? Are you bi? "Some could be offended by it [the term Fa'afafine], but for those who truly understand its beauty, and its truth, it is sacred. It's something that belonged to us before colonisation." Workshops aim to create a safe, confident space for Fa'afafine, Fa'atama, and the wider community. Photo: ABC / Dinah Lewis Boucher Across the Pacific, the acronym MVPFAFF+ is used to honour the region's unique and diverse gender identities. The term, coined by community activist and worker Phylesha Brown-Acton, stands for Māhū (Tahiti and Hawaii), Vaka sa lewa lewa (Fiji), Palopa (Papua New Guinea), Fa'afafine (Samoa and American Samoa), Akava'ine (Cook Islands), Fakaleiti or Leiti (Tonga), and Fakafifine (Niue), with the "+" signifying other gender identities still evolving within Pacific communities. Before colonisation and Christianity swept through the region, identities such as Fa'afafine were respected and woven into community life. Today, while many MVPFAFF+ individuals continue to hold cultural significance, many face discrimination. Runway, is one of the categories in Ballroom. Photo: ABC / Dinah Lewis Boucher "Cultural norms can shut down their potential, but events like this let them shine, and show what makes them unique," Rosie told ABC Pacific. "I just want them to be able to let loose, enjoy the night, and finally experience this freedom for themselves. "It means a lot to them. And it means a lot to me." Slay on the runway. Photo: ABC / Dinah Lewis Boucher Samoan human rights activist Maluseu Doris Tulifau of Brown Girl Woke is the event's key organiser, but said her role wasn't to take up space, it was to make space. "I just want the space for them," she said. "The third gender has always existed in Samoa - but it was washed away by colonial lies." Doris Tulifau, organiser behind bringing Ballroom to Samoa. Photo: ABC / Dinah Lewis Boucher One of the biggest challenges, she said, was that many MVPFAFF+ individuals still felt they had to leave the country to be free. "A lot of our love, support, and funding is coming from the diaspora - because many who left knew there wasn't a space for them here," she said, but stressed the goal wasn't to simply exist, but to thrive. For Ella, bringing the ball to Samoa was about creating a space where Pasifika youth can be seen, celebrated and safe. Photo: ABC / Dinah Lewis Boucher "We're building spaces that don't just allow LGBTQ+ youth to survive, but to thrive, right here at home. We don't want performative allyship. We want mentorship. We want advocacy. We want them to stay. "If everyone keeps leaving because of shame, silence, and fear - how will anything ever change?" Ballroom culture aims to provide a space where Samoa's youth are not just seen, but celebrated. Photo: ABC / Dinah Lewis Boucher Now, Ella is focused on modelling confidence, care, and the kind of visibility she didn't see growing up. "Being a chosen mother, the mother of my house - this is my own way of leaving a legacy. I may not have children biologically, but this is still my way of creating family," she said. "Confidence is how you walk into a room, but it's also how you uplift others. That's what I want to teach. That's how we progress. "I want to be what I wanted to see growing up. I wish I could've walked into a community like the one I see now." - ABC
ABC News
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- ABC News
How Samoa's Ballroom scene is carving space for Pacific futures
On a warm Tuesday night in Fugalei in Apia, Samoa's capital, the air hums with anticipation as a local hall fills with young people. With the Boom Kaisi Ball just days away, Pacific Rainbow+ youth have gathered for a series of workshops designed to build confidence and community in preparation for their ballroom debut. Rooted in queer Black and Latinx resistance, ballroom culture is an underground art form of performance, fashion, and chosen family now finding resonance in Samoa. It's characterised by elaborate balls, where individuals or "houses" compete in performance and dance categories. Still, beyond competition, it serves as a safe space and chosen family structure for queer individuals, fostering a sense of belonging and self-expression. Miss Samoa Fa'afafine, Ella Ganza says it means a lot to be in 'the motherland' championing community. ( ABC: Dinah Lewis Boucher ) "Ballroom is made for the confident girls," Ella Ganza said on the mic as music started to blast and participants eyed the runway, preparing to walk. As the reigning Miss Samoa Fa'afafine and Mother of the House of Alexander, she guides Samoa's youth through the world of ballroom, a deeply personal mission to uplift her community. "To see the youth, my younger sisters and brothers, be authentic, feel safe, and be celebrated in a way that's just completely them… I cried almost every night after the workshop," she told ABC Pacific. The introduction of ballroom to Samoa is a recent development, with events and workshops aimed at empowering and creating safe spaces. ( ABC: Dinah Lewis Boucher ) "It's not just about the performance — it's about nurturing a space where our young ones feel safe, celebrated, and completely themselves. "This is a calling. And it's a calling not just for us, but for those who stand with us, to serve, to protect, and to help our youth feel seen." Watching on in preparation to walk runway. ( ABC: Dinah Lewis Boucher ) 'Brings out confidence' For Rosie, a cisgender woman and chosen house mother, being part of this community is about allyship and chosen family. "Definitely 'chosen family' is how I'd describe it, because they chose me to be their mother," she told ABC Pacific. Rosie, wears pink flower in right ear, stands with the children of her house. ( ABC: Dinah Lewis Boucher ) As someone from outside the queer community, she said the role helped her practice inclusivity and mentor the younger generation. "This environment, with all the laughter and bonding, brings out their confidence and helps them be more expressive," she said. "I hope what they take from this journey is that they are loved — and that they are safe." Ballroom culture developed as a safe space and creative outlet for marginalised LGBTQ+ individuals, particularly Black and Latinx individuals, who faced discrimination in mainstream society. ( ABC: Dinah Lewis Boucher ) In Samoa, gender diversity has long existed outside of Western binary norms. Fa'afafine, meaning "in the manner of a woman", has been part of Samoan society for centuries. Recognised across Samoa as a third gender, fa'afafine embody a gender identity that doesn't fit neatly into male or female categories. "It's an umbrella term," Ella said, "whereas in the Western world, we like to put labels on every little thing. Are you trans? Are you gay? Are you non-binary? Are you bi? "Some could be offended by it [the term Fa'afafine], but for those who truly understand its beauty, and its truth, it is sacred. It's something that belonged to us before colonisation." Workshops aim to create a safe, confident space for Fa'afafine, Fa'atama, and the wider community. ( Image: Dinah Lewis Boucher ) Across the Pacific, the acronym MVPFAFF+ is used to honour the region's unique and diverse gender identities. The term, coined by community activist and worker Phylesha Brown-Acton, stands for Māhū (Tahiti and Hawaii), Vaka sa lewa lewa (Fiji), Palopa (Papua New Guinea), Fa'afafine (Samoa and American Samoa), Akava'ine (Cook Islands), Fakaleiti or Leiti (Tonga), and Fakafifine (Niue), with the "+" signifying other gender identities still evolving within Pacific communities. Before colonisation and Christianity swept through the region, identities such as Fa'afafine were respected and woven into community life. Today, while many MVPFAFF+ individuals continue to hold cultural significance, many face discrimination. Runway, is one of the categories in Ballroom. ( ABC: Dinah Lewis Boucher ) "Cultural norms can shut down their potential, but events like this let them shine, and show what makes them unique," Rosie told ABC Pacific. "I just want them to be able to let loose, enjoy the night, and finally experience this freedom for themselves. "It means a lot to them. And it means a lot to me." Slay on the runway. ( ABC: Dinah Lewis Boucher ) Samoan human rights activist Maluseu Doris Tulifau of Brown Girl Woke is the event's key organiser, but said her role wasn't to take up space, it was to make space. "I just want the space for them," she said. "The third gender has always existed in Samoa — but it was washed away by colonial lies." Doris Tulifau, organiser behind bringing Ballroom to Samoa. ( ABC: Dinah Lewis Boucher ) One of the biggest challenges, she said, was that many MVPFAFF+ individuals still felt they had to leave the country to be free. "A lot of our love, support, and funding is coming from the diaspora — because many who left knew there wasn't a space for them here," she said, but stressed the goal wasn't to simply exist, but to thrive. For Ella, bringing the ball to Samoa was about creating a space where Pasifika youth can be seen, celebrated and safe. ( ABC: Dinah Lewis Boucher ) "We're building spaces that don't just allow LGBTQ+ youth to survive, but to thrive, right here at home. We don't want performative allyship. We want mentorship. We want advocacy. We want them to stay. "If everyone keeps leaving because of shame, silence, and fear — how will anything ever change?" Ballroom culture aims to provide a space where Samoa's youth are not just seen, but celebrated. ( ABC: Dinah Lewis Boucher ) Now, Ella is focused on modelling confidence, care, and the kind of visibility she didn't see growing up. "Being a chosen mother, the mother of my house — this is my own way of leaving a legacy. I may not have children biologically, but this is still my way of creating family," she said. "Confidence is how you walk into a room, but it's also how you uplift others. That's what I want to teach. That's how we progress. "I want to be what I wanted to see growing up. I wish I could've walked into a community like the one I see now."
RNZ News
16-07-2025
- Entertainment
- RNZ News
Bookmarks with Milly Mitchell-Anyon
books music about 1 hour ago Milly Mitchell-Anyon is a rising voice in Aotearoa's arts scene - she's held exhibitions at Sarjeant Gallery, Puke Ariki, and Dunedin Public Art Gallery. She's just launched 'Flaming Star' a genre-bending show which reimagines the Wild West through queer and Indigenous lenses. She shares her book, music, film and podcast picks with Jesse.
ABC News
15-07-2025
- Entertainment
- ABC News
A Nice Indian Boy is a tender queer rom-com starring Deadpool's Karan Soni and Jonathan Groff
There's not a drop of cynicism to be found in A Nice Indian Boy, which puts a queer twist on rom-com tropes for a fun and ultra-romantic film with a surprising tenderness that sneaks up on you. What: An all-in rom-com about a gay Indian doctor opening up to love, executive produced by Mindy Kaling. Starring: Karan Soni, Jonathan Groff, Harish Patel, Zarna Garg Directed by: Roshan Sethi Where: In cinemas now Likely to make you feel: Giddy and ready for a big romantic gesture A soft-spoken, handsome gay doctor, Naveen (Karan Soni; Deadpool) is a romantic who longs for a Hindu wedding like his sister Arundhathi's (Sunita Mani), a grand, colourful celebration that opens the film. Sitting glum on the dancefloor's sidelines, he nods politely as aunties and uncles tell him he's next, while wondering what it would look like for him to bring home a nice Indian boy of his own. Where the siblings' parents (Zarna Garg, Harish Patel) continually prod Arundhathi to get married and have kids, they actively avoid discussing Naveen's love life. As he narrates, "They know I'm gay, they just haven't seen me be gay" — and he's decided that's the best way forward, rather than confront any awkwardness. This discomfort sits undisturbed for years. After the wedding, A Nice Indian Boy zips forward six years, with Naveen now in his early 30s and having avoided serious dating, therefore never having to introduce a man to his family. Until Jay (Jonathan Groff; Frozen, Hamilton) enters. He's a cute photographer who asks Naveen on a date after a series of serendipitous meetings, including during a moment of prayer at a Hindu temple. A free-spirited artist, Jay isn't exactly the model man to win Naveen's parents' approval, least of all because he's white — surely a non-negotiable for his status-anxious parents? But Jay is the film's unconventional Nice Indian Boy — an orphan raised by Indian parents. It's a slightly clunky backstory, but one that sits as awkwardly as Jay does in Indian culture, especially now that his adoptee parents are dead. Jay's cultural heritage is A Nice Indian Boy's most evident twist — on the surface, it's otherwise a fairly straightforward rom-com, with no pretence. There's the second-act fight, the grand romantic gesture, the sassy best friend (Peter S. Kim) and the sappy happy ending, all to tell a story about how love can cut through social mores and cultural expectations. They're well-worn tropes but done well, and there's something to be said for showing how familiar a queer man of colour's love story can be to audiences who rarely get to see them. But what makes A Nice Indian Boy more interesting — and surprisingly affecting — is Naveen's relationship to both his queerness and family. Unable to reconcile the two parts of him, he's self-defensively retreated from both, severing himself from his family and Jay. Despite their instant chemistry, the two are at odds. Jay is forthcoming, free and outgoing; Naveen is guarded and self-conscious, though sweet. Take their first date, a screening of Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (DDLJ), a romantic Bollywood classic so beloved that it has played daily for 30 years in a Mumbai cinema. Swept away afterwards, Jay breaks out into song on the street while Naveen winces, arms folded — somewhat entranced, but not showing it at all. "I think a lot of people find Bollywood a little much," Jay says. "But I think it's because we're all a little embarrassed by the bigness of love." Naveen is one of those people, struggling to move their relationship forward, or sabotaging it in strange ways, like neglecting to tell his family that Jay is white before they meet. Eager to be let into their son's life, his parents try to be accommodating the best they can. "We think it's wonderful you're white," mum Megha deadpans. Other attempts to bridge the distance are wonderfully specific, well-studied jokes, such as the stoic dad, Archit, silently watching For The Love of DILFs. Connection is embarrassing and awkward, but everyone except Naveen is trying. In someone else, Naveen would be a frustrating character, but Karan Soni carries the weight of his clashing shame around sexuality and culture well. You might be frustrated by Naveen but you always understand him, thanks to Soni's vulnerable performance. He gestures towards darkness that the script doesn't spell out. That discomfort within himself is present in a slouched, self-defeated shoulder or a slight nervousness but, at the same time, that never bogs down the film's zippy pace — if anything, it makes you more invested in the promise of his classic rom-com happy-ever-after. And while Jay is perhaps a little too understanding and nice as a character, Groff glows with warmth, and the couple have a naturalness to their relationship. As Naveen's parents, Garg and Patel also make small moments, such as a cooking scene or even a smile, resonate as gestures of goodwill. Subtle choices from Sethi and veteran cinematographer Amy Vincent add depth, too. The film is bright and inviting as a whole, somewhat nondescript, but moments — a shift to steadicam after Jay and Naveen's first fight, the unresolved tension shaking the scene as Naveen tries to avoid talking further — show thoughtfulness. Overall, A Nice Indian Boy bleeds tenderness, which makes sense once you learn that Sethi is a queer Indian-American filmmaker (and doctor!) married to Soni, and that the two have been trying to get this film off the ground for years. Adapted from a 2014 play by the same name, A Nice Indian Boy only found funding when Groff, the film's sole white actor, signed on. It's a shame to think that this story might not have been made, and all the more clear why its romantic gestures and speeches (which throw back to DDLJ) have so much heft to them. Embracing tropes in full force, A Nice Indian Boy isn't embarrassed by its earnestness as Sethi and the film's cast run with the chance to tell this story, and give it their all. By the time Naveen does the same, you'll be completely enamoured too.
