When Jeffrey Pu found out he was being sent to Hay in November last year for work, he was “definitely hesitant” about how the country town was going to react to his sexuality.
“In Sydney there are so many people that having a gay identity, it doesn’t matter as much,” he says. “But out here, you’re so isolated.”
Set on the banks of the Murrumbidgee River and surrounded by the flat landscape of the Hay Plains, the New South Wales town is regarded as a “cradle of irrigation” and one of the best merino wool-growing regions in Australia.
Pu, a 32-year-old paramedic, says his perception of Hay before moving there was that it was flat, dry and in the middle of nowhere. But from the moment he arrived for his five-month placement, he was astonished by how friendly and welcoming its people are.
“I’ve been in Sydney for so long and I don’t think I’ve spoken to anybody in the gym in Sydney ever,” he says. “And then from the first minute, people were introducing themselves to me, coming and shaking my hands … It’s very different vibe.
“Absolutely love the place. It’s so friendly.”
He has returned to the town for the fifth year of its pride festival Rainbow on the Plains this weekend, though only its third party, after two years of pandemic closures.
An attempt to beat the national record for the largest “human rainbow” is part of a weekend-long celebration of acceptance, inclusion and support.
Under the beating hot sun, hundreds of people patiently line up, collect pieces of coloured cardboard and form the shape of a rainbow.
The crowd cheers as the new record is announced – 446 people. For the town 800km from Sydney with a population of roughly 2,400 people, it’s quite a feat.
The chairman of Hay Mardi Gras, Will Miller, says human rainbow symbolises the number of allies a rural community can have.
“We’ve brought together communities not just from Hay but around the region and from interstate to help us be heard and seen,” he says. “Something as simple as a human rainbow so big screams that in volumes.”
Miller says the festival provides an important opportunity for rural and regional LGBTQ+ people to be seen, heard and acknowledged.
“The unrecognised benefit of that around mental health, exposure and confidence building is unmeasurable,” he says. “It’s an opportunity for us to educate and also raise awareness.”
Though floods have derailed ticket sales, more than 1,200 people are expected to attend between Friday and Sunday.
And families, farmers, locals young and old, all gather along the main street to watch the parade.
The crowd cheers as the sound of motorbikes revving their engines rumbles through the town. It’s the Dykes on Bikes – the signal that the parade has begun.
Dozens of decorated floats and vehicles, schoolchildren, and a crowd favourite – two motorised cool boxes driven by glamorous drag queens – follow.
It’s Emily Saunders’ first time attending the Hay festival but it’s not her first Mardi Gras. Next year she will take part in the Sydney parade for the 28th time.
Sydney’s president of Dykes on Bikes says it’s important to show up and be visible.
“The good thing about being a part of Dykes on Bikes is that we’re really loud and noisy,” Saunders says. “We make a bit of a spectacle and people enjoy it so it doesn’t really matter that you’re a bunch of dykes.”
She says events like these in country towns are “absolutely” important as “visibility is essential”.
“It was really nice to see so many young people watching the parade because I think we can all grow up feeling a little bit like we’re the only gay in the village, to use that phrase, and you’re not,” she says.
“There are definitely others but sometimes people don’t feel safe to be out and be proud of who they are.”
Pu says the festival is more than just an event or an attraction – it carries an important message for LGBTQ+ people, especially for young people who may be struggling.
“It’s definitely trying to create a different kind of environment for the future generations and the kids,” he says. “I think feeling comfortable and accepted is probably the most important thing.”
Miller says there can be a lack of understanding or acceptance among the Hay community “but there’s never hate”.
“I’ve never experienced hate here,” he says. “I have in Canberra, I have in other towns that you’d think it’s fine. But in Hay there’s never been hate, so we’re very lucky.”
“There’s so many allies in this town. It’s absolutely beautiful. You feel it all year round. My husband and I happily live here.”
