Sandra is a Mardi Gras 78er. She vividly still remembers the police brutality.

When Sandra Gobbo attended the first Mardi Gras on June 24, 1978, she was expecting a fun event marked by celebration and gay pride. 

But what she and hundreds of others experienced that night was an inhumane attack based on who they were and what they stood for.

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At the time, Sandra was 20 and had recently moved to Sydney from Melbourne. 

Activism was something she was passionate about as she was previously an organiser for the Australian Union of Students. But when it came to LGBTQIA+ issues, Sandra wasn't yet a vocal, public advocate. 

Around the age of 16, Sandra realised she was gay. It wasn't something she felt comfortable telling many people straight away.

"I was raised in a conservative Catholic family and I hadn't told them. I had a couple of attempted conversations with my dad. He didn't register that when I brought girls over, they weren't actually my friend but something more," Sandra explained to Mamamia.

But while living in Sydney, Sandra found people who were going through similar experiences as her and became romantically involved with her flatmate Maree.

Watch the trailer for Riot, an ABC film that explores the origins of the activism that led to the world's first Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras. Post continues below.

In June 1978, Sandra and Maree heard about a Mardi Gras party being organised.

"We had gone to the march in the morning and then overheard there would be a Mardi Gras party atmosphere in the evening on Oxford Street in Sydney. So we went out to dinner and joined in. But by the time we got there, it was more like a demonstration than a happy occasion," Sandra told Mamamia.

Even though the organisers of the event had a permit to 'assemble and march', the police had a completely different view. 

"We were congregated and had a truck with people on it and an amplifier attached. But when myself and my flatmate arrived, the police were beginning to haul the driver out of the truck, Lance Gowland [a prominent LGBTQIA+ activist]."

After they pulled Lance from the truck, the group decided to march up William Street to Kings Cross. But once there, Sandra and her fellow Mardi Gras participants were cornered. They had found themselves in a bottleneck. The police were surrounding them, beginning to arrest participants. And the fear was growing by the minute.

"The police announced that we had to disperse but there was nowhere to go. We turned around and realised that they were behind us as well. Then they started grabbing people, and confrontations began. These police officers were mountainous, really threatening. I just remember staring in disbelief at what was happening around me," she said.

"There were really strange things happening then, like people from the pavement watching on, throwing rubbish into the crowd marching. There seemed to be people and police everywhere and it felt like we had nowhere to go. It was a whole body feeling of terror and violence."

Sandra remembers seeing one woman next to her being grabbed and bashed headfirst into the back of a police van. 

She saw another have her earring ripped out as she was grabbed by a police officer. 

In another area of the crowd, gay men were being "pulverised" by police.

"Maree and I weren't arrested and ended up being able to break away from it all as we hid in a doorway. There was really nothing for us to do but try to get out. It was hard though. Especially when we heard stories like Peter Murphy's who was arrested and beaten up in the cell at the Darlinghurst jail. Many of us who weren't arrested then gathered outside of Darlinghurst jail, trying to get our friends out."

In total, there were 53 arrests and numerous brutal bashings, particularly in the cells at Darlinghurst Police Station. 

Image: Stuart Round/First Mardi Gras Inc. a community association for 78ers.

On the following Monday, June 26, 1978, the Sydney Morning Herald published the names, addresses and occupations of those arrested. This was devastating for those arrested – many losing their jobs, being kicked out of home, or having their rental tenancy terminated. Some took their own lives.

For Sandra, there was an undeniable impact.

"Before that, I had a fairly healthy regard for the police. But afterwards, if I saw a police officer in any vicinity of me, I would immediately go on alert. It was only a couple of years ago that the police commissioner apologised on behalf of NSW Police for what happened. Let alone the Sydney Morning Herald for publishing those names and the consequences of that," Sandra said.

Over the years, Mardi Gras has certainly changed.

Now, it's seen as a celebration – a time to see how far the LGBTQIA+ community has come in gaining acceptance and recognition in society, and a reminder of how much more needs to be done.

In the 45 years since that 1978 Mardi Gras demonstration, Sandra has been to about 25 parades and 20 dance parties. For Sandra, it's extra special to be in the parade marching with her fellow 78ers on their own float.

"It's an incredible feeling. To just see so many people cheering, the noise, the colour as you go up Oxford Street – it's surreal. I remember one of the recent parades, seeing all these young police officers there doing crowd control and being really friendly."

But in the same breath, it's clear to Sandra and those around her that Mardi Gras has become quite corporate and sanitised. Something she wishes would be pushed back on more.

"I don't love to see all our outrageous floats, costumes and gay pride be sanitised to what's 'appropriate' for TV or sponsors. But on the other hand, for people watching it in country towns, it is a tremendously positive thing for them to see. I just think it's important to acknowledge how commercial it has become. It is a big party, but we also can't lose touch with what it's all about and what it represents," Sandra told Mamamia.

Sandra attending a recent Mardi Gras on the 78ers float in the parade. Image: Supplied.

To this day, Sandra continues to keep in touch with her fellow original 78ers through monthly lunches and get-togethers, newsletters, and more. It's a special community, and one Sandra doesn't take for granted.

As for the younger generations coming to terms with their sexuality in today's age, Sandra wants them to know they aren't alone. 

"I want them to know they are enough. As you grow up and have access to other people and other communities – plus the internet - you learn that you have a right to exist and that it's always best to just be you. It's something every gay person would tell their younger self," she explained.

Today, Sandra, now in her mid-60s, is content with life. She's retired and enjoys gardening and relaxing at home with her flatmate and lovely pug. 

She also loves to get involved in social causes she is passionate about, especially when it comes to getting allies to join in the fight for rights for everyone.

"None of us are equal until all of us are equal – our gay and transgender communities, migrants, First Nations people, and more. After the marriage plebiscite, many thought, 'Well, now we've got that equality thing out of the way'. But there's always more to be done to ensure gay people don't have to conform to other people's views. Because it's never too late to stand up for the right thing."

To hear more about the First Mardi Gras, you can visit the 78ers' website.

Feature Image: Supplied/Stuart Round/First Mardi Gras Inc. a community association for 78ers.

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