Category: religion

6th May 1965 (6-5-65) saw the birth of a young Australian man who had stellar aspirations, but who sadly did not live to see the future he envisaged. His life – and his resilience – can teach us things today, including taking a stand against injustice.

A certificate from the Golden Key International Honour Society certifies that Rick Ransome had achieved outstanding academic success (a double degree in Journalism and Arts, with a university medal) at the University of South Australia in 2000. After earlier years of self-doubt and the derision of some others with limited perspectives, he had proved to himself (and to the world) that he was intelligent, thoughtful, and capable of informed, researched, critical thinking. As a newly-qualified journalist, he was looking forward to making a difference in the world – but happenstance robbed him of that chance.

Today would have seen his sixtieth birthday.

Early Life

Ricky was a country boy, born to Albert and Merle and living in Port Lincoln. He was baptised on 3 October 1965 in St. Thomas’s Church, later being confirmed in the same church on 15 August 1976 at age eleven; religion would later play an important (if somewhat convoluted) part of his life. He finished school at the end of Year 10 and became a butcher. He later recalled losing his father too early in life, but looking up to his older siblings for role models. Family was important to young Ricky – but so was self-discovery and personal fulfilment. To these ends, he had aspirations for writing and humanitarian activism.

It was this desire for betterment, for humanitarian service, that would lead him into a traumatic detour but would ultimately set him on course for a positive life journey that would be cut tragically short. Perhaps we can all learn from his experience – to seize the day and use our opportunities wisely when we have them, because life can be short and uncertain.

The 1980s

Ricky left home in 1985 to join a religious group and (hopefully) travel the world undertaking good works in their name. He did travel to PNG, where he caught malaria, but this did not dampen his enthusiasm. Two passport photos from this time testify to his personal growth and change. The first, taken in May 1985 (one week after his 20th birthday) was prepared in anticipation of his time with the religious group and the international travel it might entail. This photo shows a bare-faced lad, appearing to be barely older than a schoolboy, with an air of youthful uncertainty about himself and a hesitant caution about the approaching future. The second photo, taken in January 1988 (barely 2 1/2 years later, and four months after leaving the group) shows a more mature, self-grounded young man, with individualistic spiky hair, playful moustache, and cheeky grin to match his developing autonomous personality and self-confidence; a physically and psychologically more well-rounded individual.

His personal growth during this time took place despite his involvement in the religious group, not because of it. Ricky found its cult-like practices restrictive and oppressive: absolute, unquestioning obedience and subservience to a “divinely-appointed” leadership; restricted diet and heavily regulated contact with the outside world; its rejection of science and its distrust of non-religious expertise; its burning of books and family photos and other items deemed to be “ungodly”; and its strict gender segregation in everyday practices. But worst of all, he was shocked by their blatant homophobia and their insistence that he undertake religious counselling and gay conversion therapy.

Two things probably helped Ricky get through these torturous times: first and foremost, his grace under fire; his resilience and personal tendency to seek the goodness within those around him. Even in the depths of his despair, he would bounce happily into a room and greet others with a natural, happy smile and a twinkle in his eye. Among his friends within the group, he was affectionately nicknamed “Ricky Ramjet” a word play on the name of a cartoon character who often burst into a room with boisterous enthusiasm and a total disregard for the convoluted machinations of others.

The second thing to help him get through these tough times was the love and support of his friends in the group, including me. I remember one afternoon in mid-1986 when he and I were, as mandated by the group, having a “deep and meaningful” conversation as a way of keeping each other fully transparent and monitored. We ‘came out’ as gay to each other – and then both did a double-take when we realised the implications of what we had just confessed. We ultimately bonded, becoming close friends and partners.

We spent a time growing together and experiencing all the opportunities that life had denied us up until that point: giggling like schoolkids sharing secrets together, becoming comfortable to (discretely) express physical affection in public and private, finding out how joyous it can be to share your life with another. But our learning also had its serious moments: confronting the internalised homophobia from our religious indoctrination which had created ongoing trauma and cognitive dissonance for both of us. But through this all he tried to remain encouraging: having been born with a heart condition, I once recall feeling melancholy about my own long-term medical situation, and Ricky consoled me with a confident throw-away line that I would probably outlive him by decades. How unfair for him that this would prove to be true because of his own (undiagnosed) heart condition.

At that time, he wrote me a poem “To A Special Friend” which I subsequently rededicated to a refugee who died too young, but Rick’s words take on a universal application for all who knew him:

“For even though my life has been
Occasionally a haze,
I can say I’m happier now
That you have shared my days.”

Ironically, following the religious group’s instruction to “love one another” drew their zealous fury and mistrust. The group itself has a long record of abusive treatment of its young volunteers. Its ignorant and unqualified leaders smugly tried to ‘cure’ us by gay conversion therapy; by repeated and increasingly frenetic “Christian” (ie. unqualified) counselling; by strict monitoring (spying) upon our daily activities to ensure we did not express affection or worse; and by everything from demanding our personal repentance to yielding to exorcisms. All these efforts failed because they are all fraudulent, and because homosexuality does not need to be “cured”. Furious, the group’s leaders gaslit and blamed us for being insincere, slandering us to their entire community and ghosting us from their social networks. I still recall our ignominious departure one bleak Tuesday night (12 September 1987) being forced to catch the overnight bus to Melbourne; a small and sad contingent of our young friends glumly bidding us farewell while clearly sharing our frustrated sense of injustice. I never saw most of them again.

At the time, this left us both feeling very traumatised; and gave us both a sense of the imperative towards atheism fuelling our LGBT+ and human rights activism. In my case, my resulting humanism gave me consolation and self-respect; in Ricky’s case, his sense of anger about the lack of natural justice stayed with him all the days of his life. I later pondered the fate of that religious group, who ultimately abandoned their Goulburn base which subsequently burnt down – symbolic of lives abandoned and desolated. But life goes on… and we rebuild…

Two of his friends from that group – the only two friends with whom I am still in contact – recall him on this birthday:

“I was privileged to have been Ricky’s friend during his rough years. I found him to be a friend who could be relied upon in the midst of adversity. He chuckled when I playfully sang out the tune, ‘Ricky don’t lose that number’. My guess is Rick liked it as I certainly enjoyed singing it. On Rick’s birthday milestone, when he would have been 60, I ask all of you to sing, “Ricky don’t lose that number,” in a voice that is out of tune but full of love. Please also plant a dahlia next season, as that flower honours gays.” – Tim.

“When I think of Ricky I remember a friendly man with kind eyes, a cheeky smile & the spiky fringe… He was well liked which wasn’t a common thing with so many people living all together in a small space of different ages, nationalities and personalities. Most remember him and sum him up as kind – which I think is an undervalued attribute, but not to those who experienced it…” – Jenny.

The Era of AIDS

Rick’s courage and resilience are reflected in the reality that he lived through two life-threatening and socially disempowering epidemics: the first being legalised and religiously/legally mandated homophobia which justified discrimination, family/workplace rejection, and condemnation of individuals from pulpit to Parliament. The second one was worse…

These times were the height of the HIV/AIDS epidemic that devastated the gay community in the western world (and many others across the developing world). Our mentors, friends, and community were dying by the thousands. I have previously recalled and noted the times we lived through:

Any LGBT person in Australia over a certain age will undoubtedly recall incidents and events of that era which hark back to times of stigma, homophobia and discrimination. I recall certain politicians calling for the quarantining of all gay men on an otherwise unoccupied island and leaving them there to die, while others called for homosexuality to be outlawed in order to protect children or ‘normal’ people. I recall workers refusing to work with people they suspected of being gay, and hairdressers or ambulance attendants similarly refusing to attend to such clients. Restaurants smashed crockery that may have been used by gay people, and funeral directors refused to bury those suspected to have died of AIDS. Public walls were decorated with slogans like “GAY = Got AIDS Yet?” or “AIDS = Anally Inserted Death Sentence”; one newspaper targeted a front-page headline to a dying gay man: “Die, You Deviate!” Religions proclaimed that “God hates gays” and that homosexuality was unnatural; and they called for laws to reflect their heterosexist morality because of the presumed superiority of their religious views. Families, schools, churches and communities rejected their LGBT children, teachers, clergy, and community members. Families even lied at funerals and proclaimed that their ‘lifelong bachelor’ son (even those who had been in long-term gay relationships) had actually died of cancer or car accidents.

This was the era of AIDS, when public toilets… became one focal point for roaming gangs of “poofter bashers” (I even recall reading in the newspaper about a young father who was bashed to death on a nearby train just for allegedly looking gay). Despite a number of prominent Australians speaking up for tolerance, acceptance, and in opposition to homophobia and AIDSphobia, other prominent Australians spoke of gay men (and other disempowered cohorts) as being ‘radical deviants’,,, or purveyors of ‘brazen indulgences… to spread AIDS in Australia”…

The gay community had rallied and successfully conducted “safe sex” campaigns to reduce the spread of HIV, but this had remained largely within their own or related affected communities – all of them stigmatised and marginalised…

The devastation of the 1980s ultimately evolved into the emerging LGBT+/HIV activism of the 1990s. This was no small, incidental side note: our lives, and millions of others, were directly impacted by this epidemic. To paraphrase a popular comment within the HIV/AIDS activist community: although we were not infected with AIDS, we were affected by it – everything from our social or sexual behaviours to our sharing of cutlery or toilets (or breathing the same air) was tempered by popular fears of possible infection. Such stigma and fear contributed to Ricky’s own inner conflict that was compounded by his religious beliefs.

I remember our conversation about the Grim Reaper campaign in 1986, a TV public service advertisement about HIV/AIDS which terrified millions of Australians. I had not seen the advertisement at that time, but Ricky had – and he told me that it was “enough to put you off having sex for life”.

But amidst the sense of emerging LGBT+ community self-empowerment and activism during this epidemic – heroes such as Eric Michaels and Michael Callen and Phil Carswell – Ricky felt a sense of personal, emerging activism and pride as I recalled of the times: “Those were the days when being out was still a courageous political act.”.

His poetry reflected this conflict between his lingering religious guilt and his personal gay pride. One poem (“Victim of Control”) was written to reflect the fear and depression of a gay man dying of AIDS. He wrote it as an attempt to empathise with those in that situation, and to encourage readers to share that empathy. He later told me that a religious magazine published his poem while mistakenly reporting that the poet was a gay man who was dying of AIDS. The poem was full of despair and nihilism:

“Life, why do you hate me?
Why do you seemingly despise?
Life, you have laid a trap for me…

“You’re a bastard, life,
And I hate you.”

A second poem (“Ballad of the Bedpan”) spoke of a similar situation (being sick and hospitalised) but began to include tongue-in-cheek humour as a way of fighting the stigma and minimising the trauma:

“It was then I knew this bedpan would be my closest friend.
It would be with me all the hours while my stomach wouldn’t mend
Waiting by my bedside I gave it all I had to give
Without my trusted bedpan I really couldn’t live.”

His poetry reflected his developing confidence to confront the fear and stigma of the times. This mirrored what was happening around him in the gay community; as we struggled to fight an epidemic and save lives, the educational and confronting AIDS Memorial Quilt became colloquially known as the “doona of death”; activists confrontationally suggested that: “If life gives you lemons, make lemonAIDS”. This was a form of individual and community empowerment by trying to remove the harshest sting from the situation. Nevertheless, the desire to be ‘out and proud’ included the compulsion to tell the stories and this was something that Ricky would work towards for the rest of this life.

The 1990s: Journalism

Ricky’s growth and change were reflected in an action he took shortly after leaving the religious group. He changed his name from Ricky to Rick, declaring that “Ricky” was too childish and that it was time for him to grow up.

He explored a number of jobs in a number of locations – ranging from Melbourne to Uluru to Adelaide – and travelling to San Francisco in 1990 to absorb the gay aesthetic that had previously been denied him by life and circumstances. He settled down in Adelaide, met a longtime companion, Nicol, who stayed with him for much of his remaining lifetime; and began to work on developing his life ambition of journalism to tell the stories and give voice to those who could not speak for themselves.

Rick later wrote of his involvement with the local gay community press:

“I started writing for Adelaide GT Newspaper in May 1994 when I was relatively new to Adelaide. I was studying at Adelaide Institute of TAFE and I noticed advertising within Adelaide GT calling for community writing submissions. My first published writing of this paper was a short story titled Coffee Shop Conversation… and this was followed with several pieces of poetry.

“Later that same year, I was ‘inspired’ (call it what you will) to start an advice column of sorts…”

Many of Rick’s articles for the gay press involved stories that reflected his desire to fight injustice or discrimination:

CHURCH LEADERS OPPOSE FESTIVAL
“Some leaders from Adelaide’s Christian churches have expressed their disapproval of a gay and lesbian festival being held here.”
– ADELAIDE GT #88, 10 May 1996, p. 1.

GAY DE FACTOS NOT RECOGNISED
“An amendment to the defacto relationship Bill, passed two weeks ago in the Legislative Council to effectively allow gay couples the same legal recognition of their defacto status in property settlements as heterosexual couples, has been defeated in the Lower House.”
– ADELAIDE GT #91, 21 June 1996, p. 1.

BENDS IN THE STRAIGHT ROAD
“Ex ‘Ex Gays’ Tell Their Story.”
– ADELAIDE GT #92, 5 July 1996, p. 7.

CHRISTIAN GROUPS DEMAND LEGALISED DISCRIMINATION
“A Senate inquiry into sexuality discrimination, put forward by the Australian Democrats to the Senate Legal and Constitutional Reference Committee has heard from several Christian groups strongly opposed to the proposed changes.”
– ADELAIDE GT #95, 16 August, pp. 1 & 2.

GAY REFUGEE CASE NOT UNUSUAL
“The case of a Polish man allowed to stay in Australia on the basis of his homosexuality is not unusual, according to the Refugee Review Tribunal.”
– ADELAIDE GT #97, 13 September 1996, page unknown.

Rick wrote news articles; profiles of prominent community people; reviews of literature, movies, theatre and videos; and a “Dear Racquel” column as a tongue-in-cheek LGBT+ satire of advice columns. He also wrote letters to the editor, poetry, and a short story; and undertook rewriting of other work at the editor’s request.

He also expanded his efforts to include journalism for the Education Department, and ultimately became involved with the ABC. This combines with his studies ensured that he was establishing himself as a credible and qualified journalist.

The 2000s

Rick and I kept in contact as pen pals and by telephone for many years. My last phone conversation with him included his response to life’s current challenges and he spoke of plans to redouble his activist efforts in both his personal life and the LGBT+ community. We agreed that we should catch up again sometime soon – but we never got the chance.

Rick died, suddenly and peacefully, of a previously unknown and undiagnosed condition. He was aged 36, visiting his mother and sipping sherry, when he suddenly slumped, and could not be revived. The day of his funeral (12 September 2001, still 11 September in the USA), took place on a day when the world was reeling from arguably the greatest single news story of our generation – and journalist Rick missed his opportunity to research and explore this news from his own perspective.

His mother Merle kept all the sympathy letters and cards she received, and the first in her scrapbook is handwritten by a Board member of ABC News, expressing his sympathy and recalling Rick as a young and enthusiastic journalist:

“He struck me as a very sincere and thoughtful young man who had achieved a great deal in his life. He made a real difference in the newsroom when he worked here, by always putting his head down and doing the best job he possibly could every day.”

The photo that was used on the order of service for his funeral happened to be a reworked photo that originally showed Rick smirking while in the background, we can see his computer displaying an Okudagram (Star Trek display) that hinted at his love of Star Trek – a guilty pleasure to which I had introduced him. We had chatted often about the hope for the future provided by the franchise – that even after the anticipated tribulations of the coming 21st century, humanity would mature into a world without war and poverty and injustice (he even wrote a university paper featuring me in cosplay as a Star Trek alien as part of its context). In between our camp phone chats joking about Captain Janeway’s pecan pie, we speculated that Harry Kim or Seven of Nine or Chakotay might be gay. Imagine a world of equality, where everyone was equal – whether male or female, gay or straight, white or black or green, Israeli or Palestinian or Vulcan… such hope for the future was something that Rick found inspirational. Much of his journalism aimed to empower and support others in their fight against injustice, and for a better future. The theme music from “Star Trek Voyager” was played at his funeral.

Years later, in 2008, I finally got to march in Sydney’s Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras. I carried a small photo of Rick in my wallet for the occasion, so we could effectively walk in this event together – something that Rick and I had spoken about for years but had never quite managed to do. We finally did it.

His Legacy

One of his poems (“My Life Slipped Through My Fingers”) envisaged himself in his old age, pondering the value of life and opportunity:

“Time has caught up, I’ve had my share,
I’ve had my life, my jewel,
And as the reaper takes, I ask,
“What happened to it all?”…

“I had wanted age, and to mature,
And now I’m there I know,
To be mature is to live your life
At its best, as you go…”

Although he did not reach that old age, his words and wisdom, borne of trials and tribulations at a younger age, surely speak to us across the years today. His life did indeed slip through his fingers, and he had so much more he wanted to contribute, but his contributions did not stop upon his death.

Despite some life difficulties, he had been a happy young man who was encouraging of others, showing an inner strength and a determination to overcome all obstacles. He was loved by – and he loved – his friends and family. He was also a pioneer who helped to change the world in his small corner, and he would be furious to see the state of LGBT rights in Uganda or the USA today. In his short life, he achieved goals for personal betterment, and he had started to use his skills to help others through education and empowerment. Who knows what activism he could have accomplished had circumstances given more years of life, love and opportunity? Although he did not have HIV, he was a pioneer from those terrible times who helped to light a candle in his corner and shine a light on injustice. Of his generation, I write elsewhere:

People today living in lucky countries might be forgiven for thinking that the human rights they enjoy today are the norm. But such gains were only achieved at great expense. We owe those who suffered and died for the relatively good life we enjoy today. Everything from anti-discrimination legislation to marriage equality, from needle exchange programs to the public sale of condoms, from dying with dignity to inheritance laws, have been shaped by HIV/AIDS activism. It look a lot of sacrifice and suffering, but we ultimately learnt a lot from the tragedy of those heroes and those times…

Rick’s ongoing legacy extends beyond those who remember him or who read this. Many years after his death, I participated in a university study regarding gay conversion therapy. Rick’s and my experiences were referenced anonymously within the final report – which contributed to my State Government legally banning the practice outright. Rick would have been proud to know that after his years of anger and activism, his personal experiences played a part in outlawing that homophobic cruelty and injustice. After his journalistic efforts to give a voice to the voiceless, his own quietened voice had finally been heard. As it still can be heard every day.

In Memory of Rick Ransome
6th May 1965 to 6 September 2001

Reference Material:

With thanks to Phil Ransome for reference material, including many of the news articles and Rick’s private memorabilia. This includes much of his poetry, excerpts of some of which have been published here.

Author unknown, “Obituary: Rick Ransome”, XPress, Vol 4, No. 16, 20 September 2001.

Scott McGuiness, “Rick Ransome 6/5/65 – 6/9/2001”, Adelaide GT Newspaper, circa. September 2001.

Rick Ransome, “To A Special Friend“, 1986.
– – – – – – – -, “Victim of Control”, date unknown.
– – – – – – – -, “Ballad of the Bedpan”, date unknown.
– – – – – – – -, “My Life Slipped Through My Fingers”, date unknown.
– – – – – – – -, “Portfolio of Writing for Adelaide GT Newspaper“, circa. 1997.
– – – – – – – -, “Television Fans: Production Pleasure and Postmodernism”, University of South Australia, November 1997.

©2025 Geoff Allshorn. I show my respect for Elders past and present and acknowledge the Wurundjeri-Willam people, the Traditional Custodians of the Land on which this blog was prepared.