Master’s student Felix Stribling unpacks their research into Aotearoa New Zealand’s queer heritage collections and the importance of centring queer and takatāpui voices in GLAMs (galleries, libraries, archives, and museums).
Finding our voice
When visiting museums, I often see rainbow stickers and other signs marking these spaces as safe and inclusive of queer and takatāpui people. As a queer person, I appreciate these gestures, but I can’t help feeling that they’re somewhat empty. As I walk through their exhibitions, it’s hard to spot any evidence of my community – no histories, stories, or voices.
When I do, the discovery is always bittersweet, because our heritage is rarely on permanent display, making its absence colder, and the silence of our voices all the more deafening. This sense of loneliness is what led to my research into queer representation in GLAMs. I wanted to find ways to amplify our voices in these heritage spaces, where current and future generations of queer and takatāpui people can connect with each other and their history.
Visible heritage
It’s not easy for GLAMs to be wholly inclusive, but that hasn’t stopped them from trying. Many museums and galleries across Aotearoa have hosted exhibits featuring queer heritage and experiences, such as:
- Perilous: Unheard Stories from the Collection (2024)
Te Puna o Waiwhetū | Christchurch Art Gallery, Ōtautahi Christchurch - They Were Roommates (2022)
Oliver Cain, hosted by Föenander Galleries, Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland - Poutokomanawa: The Carmen Rupe Generation (2019)
Te Pūkenga Whakaata | New Zealand Portrait Gallery, Pōneke Wellington
But what goes into creating these exhibits – and why are they so important? These were some of the questions I asked in interviews with Gareth Watkins (Digital Collections Manager), Lucy Schrader (Digital Channels Outreach Manager), and Stephanie Gibson (Curator of New Zealand Histories and Culture) at Te Papa, as well as Will Hansen (Board Member and volunteer) at Kawe Mahara – Queer Archives Aotearoa. Together, they represent just a small fraction of Aotearoa New Zealand’s GLAMs, but their insights on queer collections and the impacts of representation were invaluable.
Queer collections
Some GLAMs, like Kawe Mahara, have made queer cultural material their sole focus since the start. But others, like Te Papa, have been less intentional in their collecting practices. For example, Te Papa has a collection of gowns made by Michael Matter. While Mattar was openly gay, his gowns aren’t – these were designed for and worn by women. There’s also Brian Brake, another gay man whose work Te Papa collected – not because of his sexuality, but because of his recognition as an internationally acclaimed photographer.
To its credit, Te Papa has come a long way since it first opened in the late 1990s. These days, it actively collects objects because of their queerness. It’s also worked hard to expand the digital reach of its queer collections through its LGBTQI+ histories of Aotearoa New Zealand hub. Still, Stephanie Gibson believes there’s more power in brick-and-mortar:
“I think that’s really where museums need to step up. It’s the actual long-term physical presence, in exhibitions, because you can change somebody’s life that way. I mean, you can change people’s lives through programmes and online content as well, but we know that it’s really good for community well-being when we show something on the floor.”
Power in presence
Will Hansen knows the impact of making heritage visible – he’s seen it firsthand. During one of his talks on trans histories, a young guy who initially wasn’t interested came up to him afterwards and said, “I didn’t realise there was a history for me. I didn’t know it was possible to see, to have a history that I felt connected to.” Moments like this show how much visibility matters. The longer our heritage stays out of sight, the greater the risk we’ll lose connection to it altogether. But we can’t just rely on GLAMs for preservation. As Gareth Watkins put it:
“We are all responsible for making sure that our voices are kept… It shouldn’t be solely up to the people inside the institutions to go out there and collect material… rainbow people and organisations should be actively making sure that they’re represented. It’s a two-way street.”
Community-led solutions
One big hurdle to documenting our histories is the gap between generations. Imagine how much stronger our networks could be if elders and younger queer folk came together more often. The research participants suggested that GLAMs could support us in organising regular, community-led events to connect these generations. Helping us build social networks and archives wouldn’t just preserve our stories; it would also give GLAMs the chance to improve their own practices through meaningful community engagement.
The pikorua
From this research, I found that the key to better representation comes down to three things: access, dialogue, and collaboration. I brought these ideas together in a visual summary – the pikorua, a Māori symbol of enduring connections between people, representing the intertwined paths of GLAMs and the communities they serve.
In community-focused mahi, it’s always about putting people first. When we get the chance to care for our heritage, we learn more about our collective past, each other, and even ourselves. This kind of belonging isn’t something you can attain with rainbow stickers or other feel-good gestures. GLAMs need to bring our heritage out onto the floor, alongside everything else that’s got ‘pride’ of place, to show queer and takatāpui people that our lives – and our archives – really matter.
Further reading
Watch: What makes a queer object? with Chris Brickell. Te Papa
LGBTQI+ histories of Aotearoa New Zealand – Kōrero takatāpui ki Aotearoa
