I went to my first Queer party since attending BARBBO exactly 580 days ago!

Sunday 12 Jan 2025:

As I stepped into the space at Gassometer, I was anxious and braced myself for some difficult emotions I expected to feel. But instead, I found myself experiencing what felt like a surge of belonging. No posters shouted slogans like "Consent is Mandatory" or "When you're thirsty, drink water." Yet, I felt truly welcomed and safe for the first time in years.

This experience of safe spaces in our community, dancing at Confined VOL.8, marked a turning point in my life. It felt like permission to move beyond silence and fear--to welcome a new era where my values and choices were no longer dictated by past traumas.

Arriving in Naarm as a refugee in 2012, I was initially overwhelmed by the city's freedom and fun. I randomly met the BARBBO organisers on Smith Street, and our friendship blossomed platonically. For a time, they gave me love, support, and a sense of inclusion, making me keen to contribute to the formation of what felt like an "alternative" Gay party at venues like Hugs & Kisses, where it all began.

During the COVID pandemic, when the first allegation against the BARBBO organisers surfaced on social media, I saw how Melbourne's sex-on-premises parties, particularly the BARBBO Party, responded to allegations with a classic victim-blaming and silencing method.

I dismissed said allegations after the organisers convinced me that they were fabricated to destroy the reputation of a POC-owned business. I stood by my then-friends, supporting them wholeheartedly.

Over the following year, more allegations slowly emerged and circulated in the queer-party scene and the wider community. At one point during this time, I was approached by someone at a cultural event from outside of my queer surroundings who confronted me with similar accusations towards the BARBBO organisers.

This interaction revealed to me just how serious the allegations were, and I slowly began to understand the manipulation at play. This slow but steady realisation has been key in helping me understand how power dynamics operate in spaces branded as "safe" and "inclusive."

I've since reviewed my relationships and the spaces I once advocated for. Letting go of a decade-long group of friends was painful, and for a while, I fell into a vacuum of just me and my thoughts; it was difficult but necessary for my healing. Living with one of the victims as a housemate while witnessing the Palestinian struggle further deepened my understanding of the systemic propaganda unfolding in front of me. It encouraged me to reconsider my friendships and connections in the world with a more discerning and critical lens.

This dynamic mirrors what I explored in The Illusion of Inclusion (21 Oct 2024), where tokenisation serves as a smokescreen for exploitative agendas.
Such environments prioritise optics and profit over genuine safety, leaving marginalised individuals vulnerable. Such predators exploit the branding of such spaces as diverse, in the art world or queer spaces, aiming to conceal ongoing misconduct.

However, BARBBO creates a veneer of generosity by offering DJ gigs, performance opportunities, and free tickets to young or diverse-looking members of the community while perpetuating harmful behaviours behind the scenes.

To participate in these spaces without questioning their dynamics is, in my view, an act of complicity. Events like BARBBO, which celebrate hyper-masculinity under the guise of "diversity" and "consent," often function as playgrounds for organisers' fantasies and sexual desires.

This toxic culture not only shields and provides for perpetrators "the playground" but also discourages survivors from coming forward.

I don't claim to have the answers for monitoring and addressing misconduct in Melbourne's Queer events, but the first step is creating awareness. As members of the LGBTQ+ community, we have historically led social change, and it is our responsibility to decolonise these spaces and ensure they operate on principles of care.

By practising transparency, promoting dialogue, and prioritising the voices of survivors, we can reclaim our Queer spaces from those who exploit them and build a community that values genuine safety over superficial inclusion.

Kia Zand-Jan.25