“Either life entails courage, or it ceases to be life.” – E.M. FORSTER

Cover Image: The First Official Pride Picnic that took place at Hanlan’s Point Beach In August 1971 / A poster of the 1973 Gay Pride Week in Toronto. The year I was born!

RIGHT NOW, it’s a particularly tumultuous time for members of the LGBTQ+ community around the world. Many of us, myself included, have grown somewhat complacent in recent years, lulled into a false sense of security by our progress and, for many, living openly and proud.

We began to believe that the fight for fundamental equal rights was largely behind us, that the struggle for acceptance and equality was a battle we were winning, and that the fear of “discovery” and persecution, which queer individuals have faced for decades, if not centuries, were gradually fading away. Yes, we will still face opposition, but the idea of actually moving backwards after so many triumphs?! Inconceivable.

However, this mindset can ultimately lead to perilous oversights. Rights that have been passionately fought for—rights that endured a generation of struggle and sacrifice—can be stripped away in a shocking and swift moment. This is happening now in many countries.

As a minority, we will always be vulnerable to the decisions of those who choose to ignore our basic human rights, pushing us back into the shadows, trying to make us small, unseen, and unheard. It only takes one fervent bigot to rise to a position of power, spreading insidious lies and beliefs—and before we know it, the delicate tapestry of compassion and understanding that has taken so long to weave begins to unravel.

Believing that progress unfolds in a straight line, constantly advancing and that societal attitudes will perpetually evolve for the better is, regrettably, a misconception. Coming to terms with this truth has proven to be a rather challenging endeavour for me. In my 20s, I never fathomed the notion that, in my 50s, I would grapple with such a torrent of emotions: frustration clawing at my insides, deep sadness casting a shadow over my spirit, and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness.

There’s also a palpable anger simmering just beneath the surface, and, at times, I will admit it erupts as I shout at the TV, shake my fist at the news, and argue online with the ignorant, the entitled, and the bigoted. Sadly, sometimes the call is coming from inside the house. It’s disheartening when the hostility comes from within our own community, and we find ourselves attacked by other queer individuals. Are these feelings and actions healthy, promoting wellness and a stable state of mind? Generally, no—but they’re real. And they are mine. And with the love and support of my husband, I deal.

During Pride month, I feel this assortment of emotions more than at any other time of the year. Especially when I think about the tragedy at Orlando’s Pulse Nightclub in 2016, the murder of Matthew Sheppard in 1998, and the “Gay Purge” in Canada, a period of discrimination and persecution of LGBTQ+ individuals in the public service and armed forces between the 1950s and 1990s that involved the systematic identification, investigation, and expulsion of LGBTQ+ individuals, resulting in destroyed careers, lives, and mental health.

[Image On Left: Toronto Pride Parade]

And even more recently, last year’s hate crime that actor Jonathan Joss and his husband faced from their neighbour, which tragically led to Joss’ fatal shooting, still leaves me with feelings of absolute sorrow and rage.

People often misunderstand the idea of “tolerating intolerance.” Tolerance does not mean accepting every belief, behaviour, or action without question. A tolerant society is built on mutual respect and the freedom for people to live safely and equally. When intolerance seeks to deny others those rights, remaining silent is not an act of tolerance—it can become an act of complicity.

The goal is not to suppress disagreement or debate. But there’s a difference between disagreeing with someone and supporting efforts to marginalize, discriminate against, or dehumanize others. Defending the basic human rights and dignity of all people sometimes requires drawing a firm line against intolerance, especially when it leads directly towards outright hatred. True tolerance is not the absence of standards. It’s a commitment to protecting a society in which everyone can participate freely and respectfully, and live alongside one another without fear of violence because of their identity.

In that sense, refusing to tolerate intolerance is not a contradiction; it’s often what makes tolerance possible in the first place. And yes, I’d rather be valued for who I am than merely tolerated. Still, I understand that, at least for now, that remains more of an aspiration than a reality.

[Image on Right: Justin Trudeau became the first sitting prime minister to participate in Toronto, Canada’s annual Pride Parade—the largest in the country. (And I don’t care if you like or dislike him, or think his relationship with Katy Perry is strange—and, admittedly, it kinda is—because this isn’t about him as an individual citizen, but rather about his actions as a progressive elected official.) Another important historical moment to note is when the late Pierre Trudeau, the former Prime Minister of Canada and Justin’s father, decriminalized homosexuality in 1968.]

So, to all of us who exist within the LGBTQ+ rainbow and to those who assert to be our allies, please remain vigilant and proactive for your sake, the sake of those you love, and even strangers who are just, or maybe more, vulnerable to homophobia, transphobia, queerphobia; don’t fall into the trap of believing that all is well simply because it’s 2026.

And to everyone in the LGBTQ+ community, let’s commit to looking out for one another, regardless of which letter we identify with in this vibrant spectrum. We don’t have to fully understand all of our differences to recognize that everyone deserves the freedom to live with dignity, respect, and without fear of discrimination or persecution. Together, let’s celebrate the joyful spirit of Pride Month by embracing both our diversity and our shared humanity. I often recall the line George Michael sang in Praying for Time: “And it’s hard to love, there’s so much to hate…,” and some days, that frustration feels impossible to ignore. Even so, let’s try to make the effort to lead with empathy and kindness. Yes, we will fail at times, but it’s the perseverance that matters.