Auckland nurse Doron Semu is using a traditional Sāmoan art form to bring together LGBTQ+ Pasifika youth.
In his mid-20s, feeling disconnected from his Sāmoan heritage, Doron learnt how to make the barkcloth panels known as siapo.
He now runs siapo-making workshops as a safe space for fellow LGBTQ+ Pasifika youth to do the same.
Siapo making involves carefully peeling off the outer bark of the u'a (paper mulberry) tree with an 'asi (sharp shell) then pounding the wood into a thin fabric which is then layered and pasted into a cloth.
As a practice, siapo is not dormant, he says - people in Sāmoa still make small pieces to sell to tourists - but it has been diminishing since New Zealand took over governance of the island nation in 1914.
Doron, who identifies as queer and uses he/they pronouns, says it seems to be a colonial idea that Pasifika cloth-making is women's work.
For years, he has prepared himself to have conversations about his right to practice siapo, but says Sāmoan women haven't questioned his gender identity and orientation or shown any disapproval.
"It's my heritage as being Samoan that gives me the privilege to be able to make and participate."
Siapo making is about the process as much as the product, Doron says, and group workshops are a great way for LGBTQ+ Pasifika youth to build a sense of community.
"We have really amazing conversations around sexual health, around systems that aren't catering for us because they're heteronormative, about education, about how to access scholarships, about housing… it's become a real staple.
"The purpose of it is for us as a community to come together and make measina - treasures - from our culture. And from that, there's a sense of safety and we're able to be with people who are like-minded and have similar experiences to us."
Doron, who grew up in central Auckland with a European mum and a Sāmoan dad, was raised in the Mormon church, aka The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As a teenager, he experienced conversion therapy - a practice banned in Aotearoa in 2022 - at the hands of church leaders.
Conversion therapy is founded on the belief that "being heterosexual and cis-gendered is our human default and anything beyond that is a defect that can be reset", Doron says.
Techniques to try to achieve this can include a person being told to flick a rubber band against their wrist or take a cold shower whenever they have an impure thought.
For Doron, it took the form of one-on-one lectures from church leaders who tried to coerce him into coming out to them and accusing him of sinning before he'd even come out to himself.
"I think the biggest power anyone can have over you is a secret … but I found once I started talking about things and telling people the secret lost its power … it just lost its weight."
Although Doron says his personal beliefs and practices don't align with the Mormon church and he no longer attends services, he still goes along to support his nieces and nephews occasionally.
"I think it's important for me to remain visible within the church and within that community… because I never had a healthy understanding or a role model of what a queer person looked like.
"Growing up, conversations around queerness were always synonymous with paedophilia… so 'if you're gay you're also a paedophile, you're also participating in bestiality'. …So I think it's important for me to be visible. There are healthy queer people out there, there are beautiful relationships and careers.'
The Conversion Practices Prohibition Legislation Bill is not strong enough to protect rainbow people from conversion therapy, he says, and it's likely what he experienced is still going on in the name of god.
"There are needs that churches fill within communities and I can't hate on those but there are also people in positions of power who abuse their power, sometimes unaware of what they're doing."
Representations of LGBTQ+ people in the media often centre on coming out as the most significant moment of their lives, but Doron is more interested in talking about how his life got so much better after doing it.
"I think coming out should be a less big deal."
Doron Semu is giving a talk and demonstration in siapo making as part of the Auckland Writers Festival on Saturday 20 May.