For many of us ‘Pride’ is a special time of the year. Its where the LGBTQI+ communities get to celebrate who we are by doing what we like to do, and with the people we like to do it with.

And you’re invited.

‘Pride’ is called ‘Pride’ because it’s a word that’s the polar opposite to ‘Shame’ which, in the not-too-distant past, was what we were encouraged to feel about ourselves for being that little bit different. For generations it was illegal for us to love who we loved, and even to publicly express who we truly were.

That’s slowly changed with acceptance and inclusion now embedded, normalised, and legislated for.

If I’d written this opening at the end of 2024, I’d have been feeling hopeful, but now, not so much. It feels as though the everyday human rights we’d finally attained and become comfortable with are slowly slipping away and that we’re really going to have to fight – yet again – to get them back and with no guarantee this time, that we’ll be successful.

We often talk about eternal vigilance. Maybe we took our eyes off the ball. Maybe it was them and not us. Either way, it doesn’t take much.

So, what’s different?

Trump, with his Executive Orders banning DEI, removing the right of young trans people to access health care, and banning transgender people from serving in the military, has totally changed the game, and our government, even before Trump had been elected, had begun to do the same. These are scary times for everyone who identifies as LGBTQI+. For transgender and non-binary people, it’s even more so, and we need our allies standing strong at our elbows, supporting us, going in to bat for us, to ensure our voices are heard and that we are listened to.

Who thought we’d still need to do this in 2025.

Kia mate ururoa, kei mate wheke.

In this context Pride becomes critically important. Historically, in the dark times we have always found ways to celebrate, and Pride gives us a mechanism whereby we can do that, a way to still have fun, to collaborate, to stand up and fight back, to have a voice, and, in some cases, to be courageous.

On Sunday last, my queer whānau (lesbian wife, transgender wife, ally son) took in a Pride show. We’d spent most of the day playing sport outdoors and it was Tāmaki Makaurau on a very good day, so sunscreen was applied, and it was 30+ degrees at 3pm. The thought of being indoors taking in a show in the heat of the day wasn’t exactly ideal but it’s fair to say we were looking forward to it,

I’d not been to this particular venue before so going to The Button Factory was a new adventure. It’s easy to find, has pretty good on street parking, a lovely host to welcome us in, and a few stairs to access the performing space. It’s airy, air conditioned, and well lit. There are chairs and comfortable couches in a semi-circle and multiple cushions on the floor in front of a slightly raised stage with a microphone on a stand, and a retiring area behind a black curtain.

I was impressed. It’s always special to find a new space for performance and this one is extremely user friendly,

OK, so what’s the show?

It’s a solo show for families and on Sunday there were a lot of us – around forty – half of whom were kids, some mums and dads, some mums and mums, a couple of grannies, and us.

Oh, that’s right, I forgot, I’m a Nana, too.

‘Hugo’s Rainbow Show’ features drag king Hugo Grrl, the alter ego of transman George Fowler, and George is a performer of real quality. I should declare at this point that I’ve done some TV with George, and I like him a lot. I also have to declare that I haven’t seen Hugo Grrl perform before and that Hugo is quite a different package to George.

The show is free which is a big plus these days, and its courageous stuff too, which is beyond admirable. When audiences pay, the producer has the opportunity to target a specific group, when the show is free, you have to take whoever turns up.

You can still see the show because ‘Hugo’s Rainbow Show’ is around until 22 February and it’s in multiple venues so please check the Auckland Pride website for details. I can certainly recommend the show.

I said earlier that queer performers often have to ‘be brave’, to gulp down a few extra deep breaths before hitting the footlights, and that having a degree of courage is a prerequisite that straight performers happily don’t need to have. That this is still an essential for those of us whose work is often targeted by the fundamentalist nutters lurking on the extreme right wing of the sociological dodo remains deeply unsettling. While, in the privacy of our own homes, we might have a good laugh at the fools painting over the rainbow crossings, it’s not quite as funny when they turn up at your door in their gang-patched leathers and on their phat hogs ready to take you down because they’ve been told you’re ‘a groomer and a pedophile and it’s their God-given – always God-given – right to protect the children from you and your evil grooming ways’ – and, if necessary, to use violence, or the threat of violence, to do so.

Especially vulnerable are performers engaged in what has become known as ‘Drag Queen Story Hour’ and their treatment is a human disgrace. Loathe it though we do, we still have to be prepared for it, and it’s an ever-present danger here in Tāmaki Makaurau because of who else lives here. Strange how we queers have to face these relentless, unsubstantiated accusations while our most strident critics – the bishop, his thugs, and the Act Party – are all currently dealing with the fallout from actual pedophiles who have, until recently, comfortably rested safely in their midst.

Hugo is in the audience as we arrive, sharing chatter and cushions, resplendent in glittering sea-blue tails, fabulous make-up, and a hat – somewhere between ‘The Cat in the Hat’ and Boy George – to absolutely die for.

It’s always smart to chat with the wee ones first so that, when the show starts, friends have already been made, and big surprise number one – the ‘look’ – has been established. Along with trust because trust is the key, and Hugo is establishing this with consummate ease, down there on the cushions with the tamariki, kanohi ki te kanohi, at their level.

Kids are the most unpredictable of audiences. If they love you, they share – ‘my Uncle Harry stays with Mum when Daddy’s away’ – and if they don’t love you, they have a variety of mutinous behaviours that will, unlike adults who will invariably be polite, destroy you in a heartbeat.

Hugo Grrl is magnificent – engaging, kind, thoughtful, and smart – and the kiddiewinkies drink in every moment. It’s a joy to watch him work because the content of the show requires considerable audience involvement and he cleverly under promises and over-delivers in the most productive way imaginable.

There’s a self-penned book, an illustrated story with characters that come to life. The book sits on a music stand on the side of the stage where it’s easy to access. There are songs that are sweetly performed with actions that we all have a go at. I’m impressed. Even I’m never more than a beat behind which is truly something. Nobody cares we’re all having way too much fun. The kids are great, the parents even greater. They’re really get into it. I’m keen to know how my son who, at twenty-two, is the closest thing to a kid that I know of, is responding. I take the occasional sneeky peek, and note that he, too, is right into it with a grin as wide as the Nile delta.

The theme of the show is ‘the weather’ and it’s challenging enough to maintain constant attention. Hugo is sublime and, of course, it’s visually wonderful. Drag costumes should be breathtaking and Hugo’s start that way. He’s chosen a shimmering iridescent blue tail coat with corresponding pants, light blue platform boots, and the most wonderful feathered hat that screams ‘you won’t do better than me’ – but each character following does exactly that – Ray the Sun, Misty the Cloud, Wayne the Rain, and Archie the Rainbow – with each being more dazzling than its predecessor, and with Hugo’s accompanying songs, actions, and characterisations hitting just the right note.

It’s flawless, in fact.

Solo performing is complex, and Hugo Grrl is truly outstanding, really quite remarkable, without ever seeming to be so. There’s none of that fake energy that children’s performers often manufacture, and which is so exhausting. Instead, Hugo Grrl is subtle, delicate, trusts his material, trusts his audience, teases us, and draws us in. We forget the outside world and live in a world of his creation, a world which has so many memorable moments.

When it’s over, we are invited to the back of the room for selfies with Hugo. There’s an activity pack to purchase and its ten bucks well spent. The pack includes a ‘Wacky Weather Activity Book’, ‘Hugo’s Weather Friends Sticker Book’, a pencil, and a neat wee badge featuring Misty the Cloud and Archie the Rainbow. When I went looking for the badge – I like badges – it had disappeared and will reappear, no doubt, on my son’s archery quiver with the array of other badges he’s collected on his world travels. I like that this has happened. I like it very much. It’s another way of saying ‘I really liked the show, it was great fun,’

On the back of the Activity book there’s a final note: ‘thanks for playing, from Hugo’s Rainbow Show’, which sums up the unique, innocent, and playful experience that Hugo Grrl has created,

We loved it. I loved it. And Finn nicked the badge.

That’s three big ticks from us.

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