By: Suzany Manimaran
On Sept. 22, the eve of Bisexual Day of Visibility, a group of individuals from all over the Greater Toronto Area came together for Hamilton’s first ever Biphoria, an event for bisexual identifying artists and performers to showcase their pieces.
“It was two years ago that I had the first show in Toronto,” said Catherine McCormack, Biphoria creator. “What I saw was that there was this huge gap around queer events which weren’t centred around alcohol and drinking and that way of reacting or dealing with our oppressions.”
Biphoria was a night of art and performance that was created and curated for and by those who identify as bisexual. Performances focused on stories about isolation and invisibility, identity crises and the ensuing anxiety in coming out. Many performers noted the immediate bond and sense of community the storytelling built between the audience and performers.
“We don’t see it at the time,” said performer Perth Sandiford, after the event. “But we are exchanging culture and growing culture, in this case queer culture, through storytelling.”
"We have a world that tells us bisexuals that we don't exist that comes up with you know ridiculous stereotypes, and uses that unfortunately to pit people in the queer community against each other."
Catherine McCormack
Co-president
Biphoria Creator
Through stories that were told, whether it were song, spoken word or stand up comedy, bisexual artists brought to light some of the major issues and stigmas facing the bisexual community today.
“I came out as bisexual in an era where it polarized a room,” said Micheal Thorner, another performer. “So [my] song kind of spoke to the orientation process that the small town Catholic moved through.”
Many artists talked about bi erasure and bi invisibility in gay and lesbian spaces, where bisexuality is heavily stigmatized at times.
“We have a world that tells us bisexuals that we don’t exist that comes up with you know ridiculous stereotypes, and uses that unfortunately to pit people in the queer community against each other,” said McCormack.
Several artists spoke about the complicated relationship that bisexuals have with labeling themselves, and about the stigma that comes with the label. Many bisexual individuals struggle with having their identity erased while in monogamous relationships and being framed as indecisive.
“The bi community often suffers because of the dominance of the gay community and the lesbian community,” said Valizan, who performed with his troupe, Shades of Araby. “Events like Biphoria help create community, strengthen community and show people there is a community they can come to if they need.”
But it is increasingly difficult to find queer spaces and community, even within bigger cities. “With the increasing gentrification in Toronto a lot of queers are getting pushed out. Look at The Village,” said Perth Sandiford, referring the LGBT-oriented Church-Wellesley neighbourhood in Toronto. “How many bars recently were torn down to make room for condos?”
Biphoria was ultimately a night of vulnerability, resilience and hope among a community often ignored.
By: Quinn Jones
The crowd at Moon Milk, MilkLab’s most recent open mic poetry night at Casino Artspace was there for one thing: the poetry of featured reader Autumn Getty.
Getty is a trans woman, activist in the LGBTQ community and accomplished poet.
Her moving poetry touched on her life and the complex experiences she has had, delivered with a note of dark humour that offsets her work nicely.
The first topic discussed at the event was the interrelation of Getty’s poetry and transness. She explained that although trans issues were less prominent and discussed less frequently in her time, she was aware from a very young age of feeling female and was surprised to find out at eight years old that there was a difference between boys and girls.
Getty discovered poetry a few years ago and turned to creating her own material after reading extensively. Getty believes that there is a strong relationship between her trans identity and the writing she did based on her experiences living in women’s shelters as a child.
“Looking back now, it seems to me that much of my writing was to try to explain the sense of alienation that I felt from women, sometimes through poems about being in the shelter, sometimes through poems that conceived the feminine as a universal being.”
Getty began to find her voice in university. Initially she studied anthropology and religious studies as a way to connect the body and mind, the human and divine and wrote more formal religious poetry.
But a writing class taught by the poet A.F. Moritz was to change that. Moritz asked her about her work previous to academia and it was through his encouragement to write about the general labour work she was doing during university, and to knit descriptions of said labour to larger spiritual themes.
During this time, Getty had to return home to Hamilton to raise her nephew and niece, forced to choose between helping her family and continuing her education. This had a profound impact on her poetry and activism.
Getty hoped she could break the pattern of children in her family being raised by relatives other than her parents by raising her niece and nephews until the parents could reclaim custody, but in the end they ended up being raised by her other sibling and her mother.
“In much of my writing there is a separation between the speaker and an object of desire, usually portrayed as female, which I used to think of as the feminine divine, or as wisdom, or as a thing to achieve unity with.”
Autumn Getty
Poet, Trans Woman, Activist
“I saw this was one of the ways poor people are kept poor. I would say that in terms of activism, this has led me to recognize that chances are good that I don’t really understand the factors that are inhibiting others’ successes, and to be very wary of making assumptions,” she said. “In my poetry, I think that this situation contributed to something that I really wanted to think about: how was what I had learned at university related to the life I was forced to live now? I worked very hard to try to bring the two types of experiences together.
However, this state of flux between Hamilton and Toronto created a sense of displacement and disenfranchisement, which continues to reflect in her poetry, and is at the core of her writing.
“Speaking plainly, in much of my writing there is a separation between the speaker and an object of desire, usually portrayed as female, which I used to think of as the feminine divine, or as wisdom, or as a thing to achieve unity with.”
Since then, Getty has worked throughout the community with organizations like the Coalition for Humanitarianism and New Global Empowerment, and has made appearances at Hamilton Youth Poets’ Louder Than a Bomb poetry festival For aspiring poets searching for their voice, Getty encourages experimentation and self-reflection.
“I think people sometimes worry a little too much about rules and the way they should write. To begin with people should just write whatever is their passion whatever they’re really interested in. I got that advice in university and my writing got a lot better after that.”
Getty’s active role in her local community, and her continued involvement in local poetry events like Moon Milk assures that the next generation of local writers and activists can have their own source of living, artistic inspiration.
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Content warning: This article discusses scenarios of homophobia and uses language that may be triggering for some readers.
“Hey faggot, you run like a girl.”
What may seem like a chilling statement to some has become all too common for others.
A 2015 study entitled “Out on the Fields” examined the affects of homophobia in over 7,125 LGBTQ participants across six English-speaking countries. The results were unfortunately conclusive.
Of the Canadians surveyed, 81 per cent had witnessed or experienced homophobia, while 84 per cent of gay men and 88 per cent of lesbians had encountered homophobic slurs. 66 per cent claimed they would feel “unsafe” in spectator areas if they were open about their sexuality, suggesting the culture of discrimination extends far beyond the athletes themselves.
“One thing about growing up, particularly little boys, we aren’t raised to value vulnerability,” said LGBTQ activist Wade Davis. “There is no currency in being vulnerable as a kid, and when you play sports vulnerability is a form of being weak. You can’t show weakness in football.”
Wade Davis is a former NFL player and one of only a few openly gay men to play professional sports, spending time as a member of the Tennessee Titans, the Washington Redskins and the Seattle Seahawks. In 2013 he was named executive director of the You Can Play Project, a national advocacy group working for the equality of LGBTQ athletes in sports.
“Part of our work is to redefine what it means to be a man, and what it means to be masculine,” said Davis. “A lot of people think of football as the keeper of masculinity… so the idea of having a gay player in sports just doesn’t fit.”
Unsurprisingly, 86 per cent of Canadian gay youth and 89 per cent of Canadian lesbian youth confirmed they were not open about their sexuality with teammates, citing fear of rejection (33 per cent) and bullying (19 per cent) as their primary concerns. But open players like Davis are trying to change that.
“Most LGBTQ kids, they quit paying sports right in high school, because high school is a space where that locker room is unsafe,” said Davis. “There is not a lot of policing of language, so to raise awareness is a big deal.”
Youth recreation statistics are particularly alarming, with 73 per cent of participants citing youth sport (under the age of 22) as not safe or welcoming for LGBTQ people. On US college campuses, one in four LGBTQ student athletes felt pressure to remain silent about their identity.
“Our work is to tell athletes and coaches that gay players do exist,” said Davis. “I played in the NFL, I was one of them. But I didn’t see myself. There was no Michael Sam or Jason Collins, you just didn’t think that was possible. So part of our job becomes visibility… so players know they can be open in their sport.”
Here at McMaster, student advocacy groups like the Queer Students Community Center have worked hard to change the landscape of LGBTQ athletics through education and subsidized intramural programs, but it is not an easy task.
Advertising can be challenging, as the majority of LGBTQ athletic promotions are only published within regular QSCC media. Welcome Week and other promotional events are also used to generate interest, but maintaining campus wide awareness over the course of the year can be difficult.
“There are limited numbers of teams and locations,” said QSCC athletics executive Ashley Kraftcheck. “It is tough when you have just the minimum number of people, and it can be disheartening to folks that do want to participate.”
Spreading the word about inclusive sports programs is only one way students can change the culture of athletics on campus. Taking steps to further your own knowledge and the understanding of those around you are also crucial, as Hamilton Tiger-Cat and McMaster alumnus Mike Daly pointed out.
“I have been in a locker room full of guys from everywhere, and I just don’t think there is enough awareness,” said Daly. “The way a lot of guys are raised, its not even talked about. They’ve never had this conversation before. You bring it up and guys are backing up and sneaking out of the room… I am not a fan of hate in the world and this is a form of that.”
Earlier this month Daly participated in a training session facilitated by Davis within the Tiger-Cats organization. Over the course of the program, Ticats players and administration worked collaboratively to address LGBTQ perception and treatment in sports.
“[We] want to be involved because it’s an overall issue,” said Selby Vilneff, the coordinator of event execution and community relations. “It comes down to respect. Everyone needs to be respected, and that needs to be translated to sports.”
The involvement of one team may seem like a small contribution, but the impact can be transformative. As a community stronghold, local sports organizations can model more inclusive behaviour to young players and shape the way fans perceive the game.
“Immediately after the conversation, four or five guys said they are thinking of [working with the organization],” said Davis. “Maybe they felt empowered, but all it takes is one person to raise that level of mindfulness. The biggest thing is a player will come back and say ‘hey man, we stopped using the word faggot in our locker room.”
If every locker room is one counter in a much greater fight, there is still a long road ahead. But if there is one thing LGBTQ athletes know how to do it’s persevere.
MacPride brings together students, faculty, and staff who represent LGBTQ+ communities and their allies to celebrate gender and sexual diversity, and to demonstrate McMaster's attitude of acceptance of all identities. You can attend MacPride events until Nov. 5, or check out the QSCC in the MSU service directory and on Facebook for more details.
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By: Kaiwen Song
Television programs, with their widespread reach and exposure, can have many beneficial impacts on individuals and society. TV not only provides entertainment, but can also help generate societal acceptance of minority groups such as the LGBTQ community through positive representation. Looking back we can see the impact that TV shows featuring LGBTQ characters, such as Will & Grace and Glee had on the increasing acceptance of queer people in North America. These shows had a snowball effect, with many others beginning to feature LGBTQ characters. Indeed, 2015 saw a plethora of attempts at positive representation. Unfortunately, they often left much to be desired. Here are three major ways in which we could improve LGBTQ representation on television in 2016.
First, give LGBTQ characters enough screen time to fully develop. Creating a character that only says a few inconsequential words every episode — or worse, flashes by on screen for mere seconds — is not enough to leave a lasting impression. One example is Captain David Singh in The Flash. While the show is theoretically highly inclusive, Singh, the gay police captain is only featured in 16 of the 23 total episodes with a total screen time of less than two minutes. Similarly, Teen Wolf featured the token gay lacrosse player Danny for less than five minutes throughout its first three seasons before the character disappeared altogether with no explanation. These token LGBTQ characters are extremely disappointing. How can an audience enjoy or relate to a character they don’t get the chance to know?
Secondly, ensure that your attempts at positive representation don’t end up doing more harm than good. Quantico, one of the most anticipated shows of 2015, had commercials that highlighted the inclusion of a major gay character named Simon — the show held extra promise as it was created by Joshua Safran, who is openly gay. This promise was shattered almost immediately when it was revealed that Simon was only pretending to be gay, meaning that TV was robbed of some potentially fantastic queer representation. Safran didn’t stop there; the other minor gay character on Quantico was depicted as cowardly, running away from a bomb while others stayed behind to defuse it, later committing suicide at the prospect of facing imprisonment after being caught for a crime. Both actions perpetuated the negative stereotype of the cowardly or incapable gay man. Needless to say, LGBTQ characters do not, and should not, have to be perfect human beings, however, with so few representations of queer characters on TV, we must take care that the few rare portrayals of LGBTQ characters on TV don’t buy into pre-existing negative stereotypes.
Thirdly, do not be afraid to show LGBTQ characters engaged in romantic and sexual relationships. Modern Family, a comedy series with several LGBTQ writer-producers, is a success on many fronts: it features a gay couple in major roles and allows them to be both good and bad, nuanced just like the rest of the characters. However, Modern Family has long been criticized for glossing over displays of physical intimacy between its gay character. According to the American Sociological Review’s 2014 study, although people may support civil rights for the LGBTQ community, many are still be uncomfortable seeing same-sex public displays of affection. Thus, it is important for TV shows such as Modern Family to play a role in normalizing same-sex physical intimacy. Seeing characters at their most affectionate and intimate is an important part of seeing them as human.
2015 saw a plethora of attempts at positive representation. Unfortunately, they often left much to be desired.
Fulfilling all three criteria, all the while maintaining critical and commercial success, is not impossible: take a look at How To Get Away With Murder. The show features a lead bisexual character and a major gay character, each with individual strengths and weaknesses, who are part of romantic relationships that are depicted with as much explicitness as their straight counterparts. By taking the time and effort to portray members of the LGBTQ community in a meaningful way, TV shows can be elevated from being simply entertaining to being influential and important. Writers and producers — straight and LGBTQ alike — take note!
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It’s clear that the year old MSU Women & Gender Equity Network is settling comfortably into the fabrics of the campus. From November 16 to 20 WGEN ran a weeklong campaign for Trans Visibility Week. Events revolved around awareness, acceptance and the promotion of open discussion.
Hayley Regis, WGEN coordinator, is enthusiastic about the support.
“Last year we ran a little event on trans visibility, trans programs and trans rights, but that was only a pilot. This year we wanted to do something on a larger scale,” she said.
The week opened with events like Trans Archive and mini information sessions geared towards teaching people how to be better allies.
“I want people to know what trans is,” explained Regis. “I did Welcome Week training and a lot of people didn’t know that being trans is not a sexuality. We want to be able to explain things to people who have never been exposed to this kind of stuff before, making it accessible while still doing advocacy.”
Monday ended with a screening of the Marsha P. Johnson documentary ‘Pay It No Mind.’ This is not the only movie made in the name of revolutionary trans activist Johnson; The 2015 film Stonewall has been critiqued for promoting cis-whitewashing, a topic of conversation that came up in the discussion period after the viewing. “A lot of people who came out were already engaged in conversations about trans identity,” gearing the event more to those already immersed and familiar with the community.
Wednesday’s activities largely revolved around self-care, with activities such as yoga and a storytelling circle. Friday featured a talk with a talk from keynote speaker Dr. Carys Masserella. Dr. Masserella leads the team of physicians at the Quest Community Health Centre, a care clinic specifically for transfolk located in St. Catherine’s.
“I think people from a lot of different areas of McMaster would be interested in seeing a talk by someone that works as a doctor but works as a doctor that runs one of the only specialized clinics in Canada.”
The week ended with a vigil for those who have passed in acts of hate and anti-trans violence. Candles were decorated in the WGEN office before hand, sparkles and markers strewn about by those who walked in to show their support.
Moving forward, Regis hopes to have similar events sprinkled throughout the year.
“While we have the underying rhetoric of supporting survivors and transfolk and anyone really, we are working towards showing that more outwardly.”
Downsizing to a single day or hour of events instead of a whole week would allow for more frequent events as well as the potential for repetition of the events that garnered the most support. For Regis, she would love to see have another viewing of ‘Pay It Forward,” her favourite event in what was a successful week of advocacy by WGEN.
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The Ontario Undergraduate Student Alliance recently published a report publicized as the largest-ever survey of LGBTQ+ university students in Ontario.
The report, which based its findings on a public survey from November 2014, identified both the positive progress and areas of improvement for post-secondary institutions to evaluate as well as improve upon.
The survey received 311 official responses over a one-week period, and was open to any student enrolled in a post-secondary institution in Ontario at the time. MSU VP (Education) and OUSA President Nestico-Semianiw noted that with the uncertain number of how many students specifically identify as LGBTQ+ in our communities, the amount of feedback they received was particularly valuable.
“[We wanted students] to describe their own personal experiences, because although one person's experience isn't going to be representative of everyone … I think it's important to be able to make sure that we're actually representing what those students would like to see in post-secondary education,” he said.
The overall culture and environment at universities had the most encouraging feedback from those surveyed, where 80 percent of respondents indicated that they felt comfortable and included on campus, and 81 percent also indicated that they felt welcome at large university events or activities.
However, 38 percent of respondents also reported that they sometimes were made uncomfortable in class by comments or assumptions regarding their orientation or gender by their professor. One in five respondents also noted that healthcare providers on campuses were not respectful or professional and “lacked the knowledge necessary to provide good care.”
While the majority of respondents who accessed on-campus services did not report having poor experiences, a general theme amongst the negative reports indicated that healthcare professionals were uncomfortable with the needs of LGBTQ+ students.
In addition, although the press release on the OUSA website touts the survey’s success, the report itself acknowledges the significant limitations in sample size as well as the bias inherent in the type of students who choose to participate in such a survey.
The survey results come on the heels of a recent Maclean’s article that ranked McMaster University number one in Canada for its mental health services. Although positive steps have been made on campus, Nestico-Semianiw reiterated the room for improvement in the way that the university provides a safe space for its marginalized students.
“I'm someone who likes to celebrate the progress we've made . . . but that being said, our number one designation [for mental health services] does not mean we are finished the race,” he explained.
Zachary Rose, Executive Director with OUSA, echoed many of Nestico-Semianiw's sentiments in an email to The Silhouette.
“Overall we were very pleased with the level of engagement in the survey,” he said.
“Our methodology means we have to be quite cautious about the claims we can make, but I'm pretty confident that the results give us good indications of where administrators and policy-makers can make improvements to increase inclusion on campus.”
Rose went on to say, “I think the results really demonstrate how broader problems like ignorance can make so many things difficult in so many different ways, that those of us who don't live through it would never be able to guess.”
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By: Gabi Herman
As November sets in and the weather gets dreary and grey, the Queer Students Community Centre hopes to bring a rainbow of colour with this year’s MacPride festivities.
The QSCC office is tucked away in a back corner of MUSC to maintain student privacy, but MacPride is the QSCC’s week to be unabashedly public. Fourth-year Social Work student and QSCC coordinator Emily Smith says that the publicity of the annual event “brings a degree of community for people who haven’t found it yet.” MacPride also serves as a way for the university community at large to show support.
The festivities began on Monday with a MarioKart tournament and a coffee social, and each day has been busier than the one before. With 16 events, this is the biggest year in recent memory. Smith hopes that there is a turnout to match. “Last year we had about 250 people come, and this year we are hoping for more,” she added.
Interested students have had an array of events to choose from. Wednesday featured classic Pride events: the Pride march and rally, followed by the keynote address. Body positivity workshops, Trans Inclusion 101, a board game night and a drag show are some of the options on offer for the rest of the week. The “Let’s Talk Queer” event series is notable for the collaboration it has brought about. The QSCC, EngiQueers, and SHEC have created three events about LGBTQ+ issues related to sex, relationships, and the workplace.
In addition to creating connections between campus groups, organizers hope MacPride builds bridges between the queer community and students who are not normally involved in LGBTQ+ related activities. Smith said, “People shouldn’t see the word ‘queer’ and think ‘oh, this isn’t for me.’” Unless otherwise specified, events are open to allies and intended for anybody who is interested.
Real goals, concerns, and initiatives are interwoven with the festivities. The QSCC is involved with the “MSU Wants You” campaign, and hopes to improve representation of queer people in student government. The QSCC also provides a peer support service to help address mental health issues in the LGBTQ+ community.
Trans rights are also a priority for the QSCC. The MSU and the Presidential Advisory Committee for Building an Inclusive Community both have committees that are working to change single-stalled gendered washrooms to gender-neutral. The QSCC also provides resources to help students address concerns with university professors and officials misusing pronouns, using the wrong names and other manifestations of transphobia on a case-by-case basis. However, according to Smith, there have been barriers to addressing transphobia on a broad level. “Making that big systemic change is really difficult, because what we really want to push for is training … the university keeps telling us there’s not enough money,” she explained. However, due to recent demand, the QSCC is working on investing in trans inclusion training for its members and volunteers.
The atmosphere in one of MacPride’s first events, the Queer Coffee and Social, was a relaxed contrast to the busy rush of students in the Student Centre. Many of the students in the room were first time event attendees, many with a vision of what the QSCC could do for them. Students expressed desire for more newcomers’ events, excitement for the Pride march, and a hope to meet peers who understand their experiences. Dina Kovacevic, a fourth-year Communications and Health Studies student and a QSCC exec, was glad to feel “a community vibe on campus” for the queer community.
MacPride runs until the end of the week. The schedule can be found on the MSU QSCC webpage or on Facebook.
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By: Victoria Marks
“I’m bisexual,” I said to my high school friend. “Really? I don’t think you are,” was her reaction. This was the first in a series of frustrating responses I’ve had since I started coming out to friends and family. Ten years later and I’m still bi, but unfortunately the rude comments I’ve gotten on the subject haven’t changed. “Do you prefer men or women?” “How many girls have you slept with?” “Are you doing this for attention?” “Are you sure?” or, the memorable “can I watch?”
Since these rude and invasive questions seem destined to follow me for the foreseeable bisexual future, let’s start by debunking some myths: bisexuality is not — contrary to popular belief — simply the sexual or romantic interest in two genders equally. It is the attraction to your own and other genders (plural), not necessarily in the same way or at the same time. It is fluid and complicated, and not always easy to explain. Bisexuality is not inherently transphobic; I’m not interested in my partners based purely on the status of their genitals, nor am I concerned with their gender identities. I’m no less selective or more promiscuous because of my orientation, and I’m certainly not bisexual for the attention or because it is “convenient.” If I’m in a heterosexual relationship I’m still just as bisexual as I was before it. If I’m in a queer relationship, I’m still, I assure you, very bi. Just because I am bisexual doesn’t mean I am more likely to cheat on you. No matter who I am dating, I am still me.
While definitions and identities may vary depending on the individual, the majority of the bisexuals I know have all experienced similar stigma; we are often pressured to “prove” ourselves. The first girl I dated didn’t think I was queer until I asked her out. “You just look so straight!” was the explanation. Years later, my crush was perplexed when I expressed an interest in him, because he was “sure I was a lesbian.” I have yet to figure out exactly what a “bisexual aesthetic” looks like — and if someone figures it out, please let me know — but the result of these interactions has been that I constantly feel the need to confirm my identity.
If I mention past girlfriends or boyfriends in conversation I almost always have to throw in the B-word to reassure the object of my attention that I am indeed still interested in them. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief after I had my first serious relationship with a woman, because it meant that I would finally have an answer to the question “how many girls have you dated?” that didn’t make me feel like a fraud. Almost every interaction that I have concerning my sexuality is an exhausting balancing act, but I don’t feel like I have another option.
Reactions from the queer community tend to be mixed. The ever-hateful Dan Savage — a supposed ambassador of gay people — has stated that he does not think that bisexuality exists, and that we are all either confused or partially closeted. It is therefore unsurprising that I feel the most welcome in LGBTQ+ circles only when I am in a queer relationship. I’ve had friends high-five or congratulate me for dating women, which makes me wonder what they think of me when I date men. The question that bounces around my head is “at what point am I queer enough to be considered a bonafide bisexual?” At what point am I unconditionally welcomed the way someone who identifies as gay or lesbian would be?
So for Pride on campus this week I have a simple request for the McMaster community: let bisexuals dictate their own identities. Don’t test us, or ask us to prove ourselves. Please stop asking us invasive personal questions about our sex lives — be inclusive of the B in LGBTQ+. And for god’s sake, stop asking us to take part in your threesomes.
Photo Credit: Amanda Watkins/Editor-in-Chief
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Happy Pride, Hamilton! You’ve probably seen colourful posters all around the city that read “We Are Here,” and this month in Hamilton, that’s truer than ever. With some 40 or so events that ran on local partnerships and a zero dollar budget, this year’s Pride itinerary was arguably the most diverse and inclusive than it’s ever been.
Events ranged from the annual Pride flag raising, a dinner for newcomers and people of colour, to a panel discussion on the (in)visibility of disability. All in all, Hamilton Pride and everyone involved, including co-chairs Poe Liberado and Paul Hawkins, local businesses, and countless volunteers, have accomplished something that is no small feat, but humbling nonetheless as it recognized and created spaces for LGBTQ+ people from all walks of life.
At their surface, many Pride festivities in North America are heavily centered on white gay men, rather than the entire LGBTQ+ acronym. Of course, it goes without saying that for gay communities to be able to exist without any repercussions is extremely important, and we have come such a long way from the Stonewall Riots that started this movement 45 years ago considering we’re able to take our pride to the streets.
The importance of all that is completely unchallenged, and I personally love Pride celebrations, but what becomes of people who exist in the sidelines of an already marginalized community? For me and many that I have spoken to, attending events at Hamilton Pride served as a reminder that people have a multitude of intersecting identities, including their race, gender, age, ability, sexuality, class, and/or religion. Not only do these multidimensional identities need to be recognized, we need to accordingly re-evaluate how our events, initiatives, and spaces are beneficial to some, but also how they are harmful and isolating to others. The festivities evoked thoughtful conversations on anything and everything, including how Pride bar-culture excludes people with alcohol addiction, how Pride marches forget people with disability, or how white-dominance creates racist environments for LGBTQ+ people of colour. This is precisely why we need to also look at the bigger picture rather than ourselves as individuals, and sometimes just listen when someone tells us that our actions are hurting them and their community. Listen to the voices of people who have been here longer than us, or face oppression of a variety that we never have. Until we recognize that, it is impossible to understand each other’s struggles, our determination and achievements, the root of so many ideas and how we can unify through them. One of the most dangerous things is to forget the people who make it possible for us to simply exist today. We need to remember the history of where our communities have come from to understand where we are now.
These are not my ideas. There are all things many before me have said and raised concerns over countless times in the past. These are things that people from marginalized communities, including my own, that aren’t recognized until they’re voiced by someone with power. Pride festivals are fantastic because after so many years of oppression, we can finally celebrate who we are. But we mustn’t forget that being able to fill the streets with rainbows and glitter does not mean that the struggles of all LGBTQ+ people are over. As a minority, Hamilton Pride was able to evoke a sense of community that is integral to being seen for your entire self, whether you are genderqueer and poor, a transwoman with autism, or Pakistani and pansexual.
The festivities this year remind us that Pride is and should be so much more than parties, rainbows, loud sound systems, and an astronomical budget. It is a way to remember where we have come from, but not forget where we still have to go.
