AI-generated summary
Freddy Grant and Burton Reynolds married in 2016 using a legal loophole requiring one partner to be British and the ceremony on British soil, allowing their same-sex marriage to be recognized under UK law before Australia legalized same-sex marriage via public vote.
Freddy Grant and Burton Reynolds were married in 2016 using a legal loophole for same-sex marriage. Now celebrating their 10-year anniversary, Freddy, 41, reflects on their love, and the political statement of celebrating their wedding a year before Australia voted "Yes" to marriage equality.
Whether it's romantic, platonic, heartbreaking or surprising, our Love Story series is about love in all its forms. Share yours with us.
We met in Darwin on the beach in 2009, where Burt was working his first job out of university and I was a backpacker from the UK.
It was on the cusp of my second year of a working holiday visa. I'd been working on a farm with the most racist people I'd ever met.
And I was also coming out at the time, which was a strange place to be when you're not so sure of yourself and your sexuality.
I wouldn't recommend.
I saw Burt at the beach party and picked up a vibe he might be gay. I thought he was really cute.
I was playing my ukulele and singing Beatles songs. He eventually came and sat with me. One by one everyone drifted off until it was just the two of us. The rest is history.
We clicked immediately but I had tickets to go back home in a month. So I went home for Christmas but rushed back to Darwin, cancelling my plans to continue my travels around WA.
We went from not really knowing what was going to happen to being certain we would be together forever.
It was quite a crazy few months.
We knew there would be interest in our wedding
We got married during the time when there was huge political debate about whether Australians should have a public vote to legalise same-sex marriage.
Our wedding was a political statement, and we knew it would be.
I work in PR and didn't even pitch it — I just knew there would be interest if we did it.
And sure enough, The Age called me as soon as it was booked and asked if they could be at the wedding.
For our marriage to be legal and recognised — under UK law, anyway — it had to be done on British soil and one of the couple had to be British, me.
The options were the British consulate on Collins Street [in Melbourne] or the consul-general's Toorak house, which is where we did it.
Burt has Malaysian heritage and in Malaysia people like us can still face prosecution. We have many queer friends there, and almost none are fully out to their parents.
The marriage really helped his family understand our relationship in a way they hadn't before. It felt more tangible to them.
We just want to enjoy the ordinary parts of life and have the same rights as everyone else.
We wanted to make a statement, and even though we planned to just elope on our lunch break, it turned into more than that.
It felt super romantic. It felt so right and made us so happy.
There was a lot of hate around that time
It was weird having to watch those ads on TV in the lead-up to the vote, about how our marriage shouldn't be allowed.
I was quite disappointed that nearly 40 per cent voted "No" — and that included people in our family.
I remember being at wedding ceremonies and the celebrant would say: "A marriage is between a man and a woman." But some couples would add something like, "We recognise all people should be able to get married." And people would turn and look at me and Burt.
We kind of became poster boys for the cause, which was a bit annoying at times. But we also knew it was important to put positive examples out there — and still is.
We choose each other every day
I love Burt's smile, his sense of humour, but over the years his loyalty has become one of the things I love most about him.
He always chooses me and I think that's got a lot to do with how you make a long-term relationship work. Every day choosing each other even though some days you might not get a lot in the morning, or know to tread carefully after work.
We have our own routine and rituals and we don't break them.
It really troubles me to see the rise of the manosphere and hard-won rights being debated again, here and overseas.
I do worry the rights generations fought so hard for can be taken away.
It makes our anniversary feel like a moment to reflect not only on how far we've come, but on whether the progress we assume is permanent can ever really be taken for granted.
The Still Gardening program pairs Hobart seniors with volunteers for fortnightly gardening sessions, helping 72-year-old Lyn Kirkwood rediscover her passion after joint replacements. She has formed a close friendship with volunteer Lachlan Chisholm, 35, over shared interests in art. The City of Hobart-run program has received $400,000 in Commonwealth Home Support Program funding to continue for another two years.
Jim O'Connor, a 94-year-old illiterate stockman from Far West New South Wales, has been inducted into the Australian Stockman's Hall of Fame. Born in 1932, he spent nine months alone minding sheep at 14 during a drought and now entertains mustering crews over UHF radio with poetry and Slim Dusty songs.
Jim O'Connor, a 94-year-old stockman from Far West New South Wales who cannot read or write, has been inducted into the Australian Stockman's Hall of Fame. He entertains mustering crews over UHF radio with poetry, Slim Dusty songs, and Banjo Paterson verses, drawing on a lifetime of self-reliance in one of Australia's harshest landscapes.
Ken Weeks, Australia's oldest man and the world's second-oldest man at 113, celebrated his birthday with a vintage car drive and a video message to Joao Marinho Neto, the world's oldest man who shares his October 5 birthday. His family attributes his longevity to a simple life of routine, independence, faith, and lifelong curiosity, noting he still feeds himself, chooses his clothes, does daily exercises, and follows news despite age-related voice changes. Projections show rising centenarian numbers in Australia, with estimates nearing 60,000 by 2070.
After doctors told Judy Sharp her autistic son Tim would be 'unfeeling and incapable of love,' she rejected the prognosis. Through his drawings, Tim began communicating his love and humor, eventually creating the superhero Laser Beak Man. Their story, shared in the Love Story series, highlights how Tim expresses love in his own way and how their bond defied medical expectations.
Uniformed Australian Defence Force soldiers assisted 90-year-old Vera Walker and 76-year-old Colleen Platten in Gladstone and Tannum Sands by cleaning their overgrown backyards through Legacy's Backyard Assist program, which supports families of veterans via ADF partnerships or corporate sponsorship.