Cultural Code Switching, Explained By a Minority

A hard conversation? On Widow’s Lure? No way!

We all know that the only way to cure ignorance is education, and then it’s up to the person receiving it to decide whether they learn and grow from it, or choose to remain willfully ignorant.

However, I’ve always believed that the hardest conversations – the ones that make the air leave the room, and the ones that might make people even the slightest bit uncomfortable – are the conversations that really need to happen. Like, how would you understand why a certain word is considered a slur to a certain group of people if no one will plainly explain it to you?

For that reason alone, I don’t shy away from tough conversations. I may use humour to dilute the seriousness of these conversations from time to time, but if I can power through a hard conversation with the hopes that it helps or educates at least one person out there, then I feel like my job is done.

So with that long introduction out of the way, I wanted to touch on a fairly serious topic that some people might not even be aware of.

Code switching. Ever heard of the term?

At its core, code switching is when someone adjusts or changes the way they speak, act or behave depending on whom they’re around, the setting they’re in, and other external factors. In a very general and low-level sense, some examples of everyday code switching would be going from talking very casually to your friends (“Biiiiitch, guess who I walked past the other day?”) to then speaking more formally with zero profanity when in the office (“Can we set up a one-on-one to go over next week’s tasks?”) You might even behave or communicate differently depending on your friendship groups, like you might be a certain way around your friends from high school than you are around your friends from uni.

Those are very real and valid examples of code switching that everyone goes through in everyday life. But for many minorities, code switching is not just a social flexibility. It can be tied to safety, acceptance and a sense of belonging.

Enter: ethnic and racial code switching.

If you’re Polynesian, you’ll know what I’m talking about when I refer to the ‘Islander laugh’. And for those who haven’t been inducted into the Islander laugh, it’s a certain laugh that every Polynesian has where it’s loud, boisterous and has a supercharged energy or mana behind it. By all accounts, an Islander laugh is absolutely infectious and it’s when you know your Polynesian friend is comfortable around you.

I was talking to my dear friend and sister Eugenie (fellow Polynesian) about the Islander laugh, and I in all sincerity told her I didn’t think I had an Islander laugh, to which she replied that I absolutely do have one and she’s definitely heard it when it was just the two of us together. At first, I thought she was pulling my leg because I genuinely didn’t think I had it in me to produce an Islander laugh. (I was born and raised in country NSW predominantly around white Australians, then moved to Sydney where there was a Pacifika influence but I was still more around a western influence with friends of all cultures.) But as I stopped to think about it, a part of me realised that I did have an Islander laugh and maybe I had subconsciously only reserved it for other Polynesians because I code switched my laugh when around other ethnicities.

If that’s not a clear enough example of cultural code switching, let me quickly introduce you to the ‘pākehā voice’. For those playing at home, pākehā is the Māori word for a non-Māori and is more commonly used to describe white or predominantly white folks.

Now as a friendly reminder, I was born and raised in Australia and have never lived in Aotearoa or Samoa, or even Ireland for that matter. I proudly identify my nationality as Australian and I am very privileged to have grown up in a great country like Australia. So it should be fairly surprising to some that I even have a pākehā voice in general because theoretically that should be my default.

Pākehā voice is the voice and tone you reserve for when you need to communicate with people of other cultures (but mostly white folk) because you have an underlying or subconscious thought that they won’t take you seriously if you use your normal speaking voice. For example, when I am calling a business to make a first-touch enquiry or I’m calling to make an appointment at a clinic that I’ve never used before, my pākehā voice comes out to play because god forbid they take me seriously if I didn’t code switch my voice. When I take podcast interviews or other media talks for my wrestling career, my pākehā voice comes out, and I’ve even had my sister Toni tell me that she heard me using my pākehā voice outside my bedroom door and knew not to knock because the voice alone gave away that I was in an interview of some sort.

The idea that I have to adjust myself, even slightly, to accommodate people from other cultures is quietly laughable to me because I know that nothing about me needs to change and I know that I am very comfortable in who I am and I never shrink to fit in a room that doesn’t deserve me. But even with that knowledge, I still do it.

One thing that I’m big on is always pronouncing words like “Samoan” and “Māori” properly and not using the whitened pronunciations unless I absolutely have to because I don’t feel like I need to adjust my own culture to be more palatable or easier to understand to someone who might not be familiar with the natural pronunciation.

And if cultural and racial code switching wasn’t enough, welcome to queer or gender based code switching.

Some blatant examples of this include: keeping your partner’s gender purposely obscure because you’re unsure of the reaction you’ll receive when that information is divulged; deepening or heightening your voice to avoid possible discrimination; and toning down your wardrobe choices so not to offend others when it’s something you wouldn’t particularly want to wear.

While ethnic and racial code switching is more based in needing other people to understand and consume you, queer or gender based code switching is more based in protecting yourself and feeling safe in environments that you aren’t familiar with. And god forbid I have to go through both on a daily basis just to exist in Australian society.

I love that for the most part, Australia is generally safe for LGBTQIA+ folks and embraces multiculturalism that we are known for. But being a minority from both a racial and gender/sexual orientation standpoint, I find it interesting that my subconscious mind defaults to these kinds of redundant code switches even though I know I don’t need to. Especially as someone who does not shrink to fit into rooms and always embraces my truest self in social situations.

Perhaps underneath the boldness, the glamour and the confidence that I genuinely wield, is that little girl that needs to be understood and needs to feel safe, so these tiny code switches help to put her at ease. And if that’s what I need to do to nurture her, then so fucking be it.

And I’m not saying that in my pākehā voice.

– by The Black Widow

Six Facts About Pride Month

Wow, a listicle… and during Pride Month?!

(In fairness, I could be using that a lot more than I have been this June.)

Hello Widow’s Lureans! Wherever you are in the world, I hope you are all enjoying Pride Month, whether you are a part of the Alphabet Mafia, a proud ally, or just a quiet bystander.

It would be remiss of me not to touch on Pride Month as a proud B, Q and T of the LGBTQIA+. And instead of taking a fairly serious toned but still informative point of view like I did in 2024, I thought I’d take a more light-hearted but still checking your nonsense kind of tone in 2026.

So with that being said, here are six facts about Pride Month, compiled by yours truly.

1. Pride doesn’t exist to wipe out the cishets
This is the most tiring ‘argument’ I see whenever Pride Month rolls around. All of a sudden Larry the cishet white man – a subgenre of human that has been severely underrepresented in modern media, clearly – complains “What about Straight Pride? Where’s my Straight Pride parade? Should I be ashamed for being attracted to the opposite gender?” No you shouldn’t Larry. You should be ashamed for having a pea-sized brain, however. Pride exists because for decades, anyone outside of the cishet normality was shunned, crucified, persecuted and even jailed for simply existing as they are. The first brick was thrown at Stonewall because we were tired of living in the shadows and having to pretend to be someone we weren’t simply because of societal norms. Pride exists so that we can embrace who we are. Not everything revolves around you, Larry.

2. Men’s Mental Health Month can exist alongside Pride Month (shocker!)
Another tiring argument I see is “What about Men’s Mental Health Month?” Are you aware that two things can exist at the same time exclusive of each other? What a novel concept! If I can share the same birthday with my aunt, then Men’s Mental Health Month can share the same month as Pride Month. Although I think it’s super funny how these people harp on about men’s mental health yet when someone like Kane Evans shares his deeply moving and personal coming out story, all of a sudden their care for men’s mental health goes out the window and they start ridiculing him. Funny that.

3. Pride won’t turn your kids gay or trans
There goes a tale that should you look in the sun and see a rainbow, suddenly you will experience gender dysphoria and a sudden attraction to the same gender. Okay but seriously, if you believe in this and ‘the rainbow flag propaganda’, let me know what area you live in so I can point you towards the nearest library. Because that is NOT how LGBTQIA+ works. One phrase I see that I love, and bear with me while I paraphrase this, is “Pride doesn’t exist to turn your kids into gay kids. It exists so your kids don’t turn into dead kids.” LGBTQIA+ kids are four times more likely to attempt suicide than their cishet counterparts (source), which is a terrible fact. Pride exists so that these kids can love and embrace who they are so they can live longer and happier lives and not be forced into a closet or repression that could lead to them making some permanent choices. Again, not everything revolves around you, Larry.

4. Pride is for everyone*
This could be a potentially controversial opinion but I believe that pride and celebrating pride is for everyone – including the cishets. By that, I mean if Samantha the cishet ally wants to celebrate pride and embrace all of her LGBTQIA+ friends and family, then Pride is as much for Samantha as it is any member of the Rainbow Army. Don’t gatekeep pride for people who are genuine supporters of the community, especially at a time like this where our mere existence is being politically debated. So if you see Pride Month advertising and you as a cishet think “What can I do to celebrate Pride?” You can reach out to your queer friends and peers, check in on them, remind them that they are seen and loved and you have their backs. *Pride is not for the LGB without the T crowd. You shouldn’t be proud of who you are, because who you are is a horrible person who lacks critical thinking.

5. The B is still as valid as every other letter
If there’s one thing I hate nearly as much as I hate the “LGB without the T” crowd of half-wit morons, it’s those who try to shame or gatekeep Pride from bi, pan or queer folk in hetero presenting relationships. Delancey the bisexual woman married to her Golden Retriever husband deserves to be here as much as anyone else. The queerness in her doesn’t automatically disappear because she fell in love with and married someone of the opposite sex. Fuck outta here with your nonsense.

6. We just want to exist safely
If you think that Pride is just some leftist propaganda to turn everyone queer, then I’ll hold back my usual sassiness to hit you with this very important fact I touched on in number one – we just want to live our lives free of persecution, judgment or discrimination. That’s the main reason Pride exists. A same sex couple holding hands walking down the street is guaranteed to be met with a different and colder reception than a hetero couple; a trans woman simply existing in a dress is guaranteed to irk some small-minded folks; an ace-aro is guaranteed to heave a sigh as they have to explain to someone for the 1000th why they want to be alone. You don’t have to understand every letter and every aspect of LGBTQIA+, but what you can do is offer simple grace and compassion and realise that “Hey, I might not understand it all, but I acknowledge they’re human and they deserve the right to live the way they want”. That’s it.

I’m going to end this Pride themed piece with five very choice words that I want you to take away from this…

Fuck Riley Gaines, dumb bitch.

Happy Pride!

– by The Black Widow

Satisfashion: Y2K and the Visible G-String

Making 2000’s Lita proud with this.

For reasons that should be fairly obvious, I didn’t get to live my lowrider visible G string phase back in the 2000’s, which is truly such a sad fact of life for me. And as quick as this provocative style came in, it went out of fashion just as quick and was replaced as the 2010’s ushered in the era of high-waisted skirts, jeans and shorts. During this era, it became taboo to wear anything low-rise and wearing such a risky garment would grant you looks of pure horror or disgust in the era of peplum tops and bandage dresses.

And then, in the early 2020’s after the world almost ctrl-alt-deleted itself, a resurgence of the Y2K style came in as Gen Z discovered something of the past while us millennials had the privilege of raiding our packed-up fashions from the garage and pulled out some vintage classics. This pivot in fashion and trends essentially released us all from the chokehold that high-waisted denim shorts had on us. Now you can go for a night out and see women in their high waisted skirts and pants standing next to a bunch of other women in low rise jorts and cargo pants, and both sets of women look absolutely fabulous.

Although for dolls like me who didn’t get to live this important era of girlhood, now’s our time to shine.

I feel like it’s very important to mention that I donned this look for a casual Saturday night Chinese dinner in Newtown with a girlfriend.

For this specific trend, I think the first thing I want to point out is if you’re going to wear a visible G-string, make sure it is visible for those on the moon. Don’t just have a little bit of it poking out, because to me that defeats the purpose of rocking the 2000’s Lita look. Be proud of your specific choice of underwear and own that piece of your sexuality. The height of mine might look ridiculous since it’s almost up to my chest, but that just makes it more impactful than if only a smidge of black was poking out.

I’ve been blessed/cursed with a long torso, so the impact of the midriff and visible G-string is greatly accentuated for me. But goes without saying, just as the above point reiterates, wear a midriff or crop top so that the visible G-string is indeed visible. There is literally no point of having your cheeky thong poke out if a loose fitting band tee is covering it. Like you might as well have worn your ugly underwear for the look because no one is going to bloody see them.

The choice of bottoms is also important to consider because you have to think about what would suit the look you’re trying to achieve. For the best and safest option, I would recommend a baggy trouser or jeans. Loose pants combined with a visible G-string and a midriff top is such a classic 90’s baddie look that you absolutely cannot go wrong with. I would say to steer away from low-rise mini skirts or hot pants because that would mean there’s a lot going on with your look, but also I support a woman’s right to choose whatever path she wants, so you do whatever you want sister.

To complete the look, consider your hair and footwear. I opted to go with the classic half-up half down pigtails – another classic 90’s serve – and some white sneakers, because we all know the most versatile thing in a woman’s wardrobe will be her white sneakers. I can also see something like loose curls and a pair of square heels working with your crop top, visible G-string and low rise pants to complete this absolutely iconic look.

Please don’t judge the image quality. I’ll do better next time, I promise.

As always, The Black Widow has you covered on all things fashion, style and trends. If you have any particular look that you want covered here on Widow’s Lure, please write to us and we’ll be happy to accommodate you and send you on your way in your own style journey.

– by The Black Widow

Three Things I Learned About Myself While Filming Heel Turn

And now for a self-indulgent post.

Hello Widow’s Lureans. I know I’m super inconsistent with posting on here, but it’s actually a goal on my vision board to write more and post more on here. So to quickly catch you up to speed on the past couple of years of my life:

– My parents have been living in Fiji for the past three years, which means I’ve been living in their house rent free so I could save more spend more money on clothes and beauty. Nikki maintenance is very expensive.
– Still at the same job which I enjoy most of the time.
– Still wrestling, still slaying in the ring and out. Still paired with my soulsister Frankie B, while also exploring solo opportunities as well.
– Had a crew film a documentary on me which premiered at the Mardi Gras Film Festival 2026 and was a hit with the people in attendance.

Just a casual documentary. You know, no biggie.

Talk about length. Talk about drama. Talk about stones. Talk about comfort.

The aptly named Heel Turn focuses on myself and how I navigate the wrestling world as a queer transwoman of colour and how wrestling has helped and harmed me. But specifically, how I play a villainous character (heel) when society villainises parts of my identity that I can’t control anyway.

Over three separate days of filming (training at the PWA Academy, performing on a show in a match against Cosmo Cooper, and capturing some moments of me at my home), the wonderful crew worked with me to capture the real moments that show public Nikki and the vulnerable Nikki all wrapped up in an eight minute short film/documentary. Not only did I show them Nikki Van Blair, the ultra glamorous, confidently sexual and magnetically bitchy Queen Bee, but they also interviewed the somewhat serious, outspoken and unapologetic Nikki Hamilton, and in those moments, I found that I learned a few things about myself that I wasn’t consciously aware of before. I’m very intrigued by the psychology of humans and how everyone is fundamentally different from each other, and as someone who is as self-reflective as me – some would say I am too self-reflective –  I love discovering new things about myself, why I do things the way I do, and why I react to things the way I do.

So as an interesting thought piece, I wanted to share a few things with you that I learned about myself during or after the filming of Heel Turn with this fabulous crew.

1. I don’t have emotional walls built up; I have a door that I control.
We all know the saying that someone has walls built up to protect themselves from getting hurt. These walls can be beneficial, but in turn it stops people from getting to know the real you. I participated in a podcast interview for LGBT In the Ring with the director of the film Isabella, and she made a comment that I have a wall built up. I understand why she came to that conclusion because I know I do have a very noticeable public persona, but I respectfully disagree with her labelling. I don’t have a wall that people need to chip down or hurdle over; I have a door that I willfully control, and I can freely let people who deserve it into my inner thoughts and feelings and become vulnerable with them if and when I choose to. This documentary wouldn’t have worked if I refused to get raw and real with the team, and I found it easy to not only show them the Queen Bee, but also the woman who walks through life and navigates the wrestling world carrying an invisible burden through spaces that no one else has to think about. And that’s because I control that door, and I control that door handle.

2. I watch way too much Real Housewives
Now I’m very aware that I watch too much Real Housewives, but the actual point I want to make here is new to me. There is a point where the crew asked me how I felt after planning my match with Cooper, and by all means it was an easy and seamless experience as Cooper is great at what he does, he’s a professional, and I trust him not only as an opponent but as a friend as well. But because watching rich women scream at dinners has become second-nature to me, and knowing what they have to do as part of their job to create drama and entertainment, I brought up a small point of contention to the cameras between Cooper and I during the planning conversation. This was not fake or ‘produced’ in any way as it was something that I had genuinely felt in the moment. However, it was such a small thing to note that not mentioning it would’ve honestly sufficed, but because I’m a Bravo-holic, I brought it up. Because I know what makes good TV. Thank you Tamra Judge.

3. My story in wrestling is a lot more interesting than I originally thought, and is one that needs to be told
I feel like everyone can relate to this. Because I am living my own life in real time and experience everything I experience, none of it seems overly fascinating or interesting to me since it’s all real to me. But talking to the crew about everything in my life, personally and professionally in wrestling, and them being so fascinated with the everyday workings of my life, actually made me realise that my story is interesting. Not only that, but verbally coming to the realisation with the crew that I’ve knocked down a lot of doors for future queer folk in Aus wrestling, helped me realise that my story is a story that needs to be told. Because who doesn’t like a real story of someone who has to fight through discrimination, invisible walls, and moving through spaces with an extra weight on their shoulders, and creating a legacy for others to catapult off, because in reality that’s what I’m doing, and it’s incredibly humbling to realise.

I know that I take a lot of time to look within myself and self reflect, again some might say that I do that too much, but making these realisations about myself during or after the filming of the documentary have helped me to understand myself more and acknowledge that my journey in Australian professional wrestling is full of unchartered waters and untrodden path that will helpfully make it easier for future wrestlers of all the tribes that I proudly represent – Pacific Islanders, LGBTQIA+, women.

While the Mardi Gras Film Festival – and its on demand service – has ended, Heel Turn might be popping up in new online places, so keep your eyes and ears out because this short film will make you laugh, make you reflect, and might even make you cry. If I dare say so myself.

And you might even learn a new thing or two about me after watching it.

– by The Black Widow