UNSILENCED – a day to remember when voices against gender ideology in New Zealand were heard.

 All was quiet at Tākina when the taxi dropped me off there from the airport. That wasn’t to last, of course.

Tākina is the flash new council-owned events centre in central Wellington, where a newly-formed group called ‘Inflection Point’ had fortuitously managed to score a room for their event called UNSILENCED. This event, on Saturday 18^th May, brought people together from all walks of life, both to speak against gender ideology in New Zealand and to hear what those speakers had to say. It was a crowd with a wide range of differing views and opinions, and I was happy to be amongst it. On the matter of gender ideology, though, we were in agreement that for the sake of women’s and children’s rights and safety, and societal and cultural wellbeing, it has to be halted. The importance of this requires all hands on deck.

Upon my early-ish arrival, quiet though it was, there were small signs that this was perhaps no ordinary event. Security inside was amped up, and across the road at Te Papa – which could be considered NZ’s national museum – they were flying the transgender ‘regress’ flag. Technically, but somewhat erroneously, that flag is labelled the ‘progress flag’. However, as a symbol of a movement that advocates harming children in their pursuit of an elusive ‘gender identity’ opposite to the sex they were born, and decimates women’s hard-won rights, it’s clearly regressive. Then some soap dispensers in the ladies’ loo were discovered to have no soap in them. And the café, which I believe is privately operated, had closed at 10am in apparent “solidarity with the trans community”. There’s little doubt this was done to spite the attendees of UNSILENCED, so they’d have to go elsewhere for food and drinks before and during the event. I wonder who the next people considered too impure to serve will be?

   The shut-down café area at Tākina

Protestors against the UNSILENCED event slowly began arriving outside Te Papa across the road shortly after my arrival, joined in due course by young Mr Nīkau Wi Weera, the Wellington City councillor who’d decided to get riled up about the event, and wound up the usual trans activist groups into being riled up alongside him.

Nīkau Wi Neera (in the brown jacket) with trans activists outside Te Papa, across the road from Tākina. What exactly does a “Mighty Trans Earthquake” infer?

A little prior to Mr Wi Neera arriving, Linda, a veteran of the violence at the ‘Let Women Speak’ rally in March 2023, took herself over to the group of gathering protestors, numbering about 50 at this stage before swelling to reportedly around 200, to do some filming. I was planning to stay out of trouble, but someone needed to accompany her to ensure she was okay, didn’t they? To be honest, another woman was faster off the mark than I was to do this, so I watched for a wee while from Tākina’s foyer. It wasn’t long, though, before I thought I’d better get over there ‘just in case’. As I walked out the door, I could see her being harassed by trans activists, who didn’t want to be filmed. So, I filmed them.

Trans activists try to stop Linda from filming, whilst both I and the woman accompanying her film them.

Then I popped over the road to stand by her, too, as she was trying to engage in some dialogue with the trans activists. They were putting signs and flags in her face whichever way she turned. I could see the moment she just thought “f*ck this”. If they wouldn't talk to her she would go to them, and marched straight into the crowd with her phone camera held aloft on a stick. The trans activists parted just enough to avoid contact, but all the time thrusting placards and flags in her face. Well, I had no choice but to walk into the crowd beside her, did I? I scolded a young man as he got a bit close with “don’t you dare touch her!!” He replied he hadn’t, but I still warned him that if he “put one finger on her, I’ll be filming it.” It’s possible my face may have also been wearing what my sister calls my ‘black look’. Maybe they’d also learned that punching middle-aged and older women doesn’t go down well if it gets caught on video. Linda and I got through the crowd physically unmolested, and eventually the three of us made our ways back to Tākina to get seated for the UNSILENCED event.

But it was a close call for Brian Tamaki of Destiny Church, as he was arriving at the events centre. As an aside, I realise the names ‘Brian Tamaki’ and ‘Destiny Church’ will evoke an opinion of varying degrees in almost every New Zealander. That’s fine, but I’m not getting into it. Two male trans activists lurked in wait for Brian, and as he was approaching the entrance they ran at him with the intention of getting close enough to throw bottles filled with what appeared to be urine and faeces on him. Those bottles never made their target. Brian travels with his own security who are also members of his congregation, which is made up largely of Māori. The two trans activists got tackled before they got close to Brian, and I presume, scampered away as fast as they could once they were un-tackled. Unfortunately, one of the bottles broke when it hit the ground with its human holder, and the stench was purportedly horrendous. The incident was over before the handful of police there could react.

 The faeces-and-urine thrower being brought to the ground by one of Brian Tamaki’s personal security.

Despite a dodgy start, which wasn’t at all unexpected, UNSILENCED got going only slightly late. The line up of speakers were eclectic, and spoke from different perspectives, knowledge, and experience. I would wager that every single person in that room heard something they disagreed with, and yet here we were, prepared to put that aside so we could fight against gender ideology more cohesively.

All the speakers, bar one, had been fighting it for years. The one who hadn’t is a young woman detransitioner, Mel, from Australia, who had come to the event to talk about her experience. She spoke of being a distressed young woman, who had been put on the gender-affirmation path – i.e. affirmation that she was indeed a male in a female body – and then getting a double mastectomy to ostensibly help relieve that distress. After a while, she came to her own realisation that the story she’d been sold about being able to change sex was a lie. In a stunning display of courage, Mel removed her t-shirt while she spoke, so the audience could see her upper body as it now is, sans breasts. When she’d finished, the Destiny Church men honoured her with a haka.

The entire event was recorded, and once that recording is available a link will be sent to those who purchased a ticket. Not all ticket-holders attended – more than twice the number of those who attended in person bought a ticket just so they could get a link to the recording afterwards. That option may still be open for those who want to belatedly register for it. For others, William McGimpsey from The Zeitgeist NZ, did a thread on X with a succinct commentary on all the speakers. This can be found at @TheZeitgeistNZ on X (formerly Twitter).

Inside the event room, the feeling that this was a significant point in time was palpable. Many people who’d only known each other online for the most part finally got to meet in person, and that in-person contact simply can’t be beaten. I was still buzzed from the whole thing the next day. I guarantee the solidarity gained there will be more than that gained by Tākina’s café staff closing up shop. A comment was overheard that it had been a long time since so many people had been seen smiling all at once in one place.

Then there was the oratory. Good in-person oratory is also mighty hard to beat. I’m not dismissing the convenience of technology, though, as without it we wouldn’t have the benefit of seeing and hearing three overseas speakers who were ‘beamed’ into the room. However, there’s a certain je ne sais quois that passes between speaker and listener which is harder to get online. Māori, as a traditionally oral culture, maybe knew this better than many, as they had to impress on their listeners that which they had no written words for. When Di Landy from Mana Wāhine Kōrero stood up and spoke, I heard that passed-down skill in her powerful delivery. Her speech will be posted on their Substack in a few days’ time. It may not come with her oral delivery, but it’s still compelling. When she’d finished speaking, a kuia (an older Māori woman) stood up and spontaneously sang a mihi as an acknowledgement of the truth of what Di had said. Her two friends later revealed to Di’s sister that it was highly unusual for her to do that. Clearly, what Di had said about how Māori culture and language is being ruined by wokery had resonated deeply.

The organisers of UNSILENCED, the speakers, the attendees, and all those who have been laying the groundwork for years beforehand, are to be congratulated on pulling off a monumentally successful event. Despite the best efforts of would-be ambushers and saboteurs, which I daresay I’ve only touched on, this was definitely an inflection point.

The line-up of speakers, with two of the event organisers on each end.