Tasmania has just made history — and not a moment too soon. In a landmark move unveiled in December 2025, the island state became the first in Australia to formally offer financial reparations to men charged or convicted under its now-abolished anti-homosexuality and cross-dressing laws. With payments ranging from A$15,000 for those merely charged to up to A$75,000 for those who served time, this redress scheme signals more than a cheque — it’s a proper acknowledgement that Tasmania’s old laws caused real, lifetime harm.
For decades, Tasmania stood apart — for the worst of reasons. Homosexuality remained a crime here until 1997; it was the last of Australia’s states to decriminalise male same-sex relationships. Even cross-dressing stayed outlawed until 2001. The same state that once penalised its queer citizens with up to 21 years in jail is now acknowledging the wrongs of that era.
As many as a hundred men were charged or convicted under those obsolete laws — though the real number may be higher when you factor in cases targeting people for cross-dressing. Consequences were punishing and far-reaching: lost jobs, estranged families, disrupted lives, ruined reputations, eviction, and for some, the unbearable pain of social ostracism or suicide. Many were driven from their home state, hoping a fresh start elsewhere might erase the shame.
“This isn’t just paper-shuffling — it’s a serious step toward healing,” says human rights law professor Paula Gerber, who advised the committee that set the compensation tiers. She compared Tasmania’s plan to redress schemes abroad and wrongful conviction payouts, arguing that the sums needed to ‘genuinely recognise’ the harm caused. For those who only faced charges, A$15,000 is offered; for convictions without jail time, A$45,000; and for those who served time — or were subjected to conversion or aversion therapies — A$75,000.
For decades the calls for “expungement” — wiping gay convictions from criminal records — looked like the only concrete justice. Indeed, since 2017, Tasmanians convicted of historical “homosexual offences” have been eligible to apply for their records to be cleared. But expungement alone was never going to cut it — it didn’t restore the years of lost income, relationships, dignity, or mental health. What’s unfolding now goes a step further: redress that acknowledges those intangible yet devastating damages.
Campaigners such as Equality Tasmania have welcomed the reconciliation, arguing it’s high time the state accepted responsibility for the human wreckage wrought by its laws. As Rodney Croome — a veteran activist who helped lead the push for decriminalisation and is now a spokesperson — observed, many of those who endured convictions lost much more than money. Jobs, families, homes — entire lives were wrecked. Some men even died without ever seeing justice.
It’s a move that speaks to a broader shift — not just in law, but in culture. Back in the day, Tasmania policed sexuality and gender identity with an iron fist; public morality and prejudice were baked into statute. Today, the reparations aren’t just about currency, but about restoring humanity. Tasmania is telling its queer community: “We see you. We failed you. Let’s try to make amends.”
But while the state is finally owning up, this isn’t the finish line. The redress scheme currently only covers surviving individuals who submit a successful application to have their record expunged. Loved ones of those already deceased remain outside the scheme’s reach. And many who suffered may never come forward, still haunted by shame, fear or distrust.
Even so, this is a powerful, overdue reckoning — and a blueprint for other jurisdictions, inside Australia and beyond. “It’s never too late,” Gerber says. For Tasmania, that old stigma — once codified in the law — is finally being laid to rest.
Spicy Auntie here, darlings — and today my chili-pepper necklace is glowing with a mix of pride, fury, and a big Aussie finally! Because Tasmania, of all places — once the most stubborn, conservative, “don’t-rock-the-boat, mate” corner of Australia — has just done something genuinely brave. Reparations for people criminalised simply for being gay. Not charity. Not symbolic rainbow confetti. Actual money, actual accountability, and actual acknowledgement that the state ruined real lives.
Let me tell you, Auntie has been around long enough to remember when Tasmania’s reputation was so bad that queer travellers treated it like a no-go zone. This was the place where loving another man could get you locked up for 21 years. Where wearing the “wrong” clothes — can you imagine?! — was grounds for police harassment. Cross-dressing a crime? Sweetheart, half of my wardrobe would have been “evidence.” They would’ve had a field day.
So when I see this scheme offering A$15,000, A$45,000, up to A$75,000 to those who were charged, convicted, jailed, or subjected to those hideous “aversion therapies,” I say: good. And also: not enough. Because how do you put a price on humiliation? On a lifetime of family estrangement? On the shame imposed by a state that told you you were a criminal simply for being who you are? You can’t. But money is more than symbolic — it says, “We were wrong, and we owe you.” And that, my loves, is powerful.
But let’s not get carried away and start clapping like galahs on a fence. Because some of the men harmed are gone — lost to illness, to suicide, or to the slow erosion of dignity that societal cruelty inflicts. Their families won’t get a cent. And many survivors won’t come forward because the shame that Tasmania created doesn’t disappear just because a government minister reads an apology off a press-release script.
Still, let’s give Tassie its flowers. This is the same state where brave activists like Rodney Croome fought tooth and nail for decriminalisation in the 1990s. Now Croome gets to witness his state not just rewriting history, but repairing it. That’s a full-circle moment if I’ve ever seen one.
My message to the rest of Australia? Don’t just sit there like a stunned mullet. Follow Tasmania’s lead. Own up to the harm done. Pay up. Apologise properly. And for heaven’s sake, remember: queer people don’t need tolerance. They need justice.
Auntie’s verdict: Tasmania, you took your sweet time — but better late than never, loves. Now pour me a Tassie pinot; we’ve earned it.