An interactive map that reveals lesbian, queer and feminist sport and fitness culture of 1970s and 1980s Sydney, and beyond.

On a freezing Massachusetts morning in 1967, nineteen-year-old Kathrine Switzer illegally entered, ran and finished the Boston Marathon, which was at that time a men-only race. Switzer was studying journalism, and running ten miles a night. Like many women athletes in the late 1960s, she trained with the men’s team, because there was nothing on offer for her. Her coach often regaled the entire team with stories of success at Boston, which he had run fifteen times, until Switzer insisted that she was good enough to run the twenty-six miles. ‘No dame has ever run Boston,’ he would reply.

Marie Kondo is a quiet delight, a soothing television presence in what, presently, are some very stormy seas. But I love her more because she is not just an antidote to these times of crisis – she speaks to them, too.

By the time I was thirty, I’d been married twice, once to a woman, once to a man, both times for love and both times because of borders. Despite thinking I would never get married, to date I have flipped the saying and been always the bride and never the bridesmaid. In the last year, I’ve been invited to no less than seven weddings by feminist friends on the radical left and my Facebook newsfeed has been clogged with many more. None of these have been visa weddings.