photojunkie

Marching in the Parade with the LGBT YouthLine when I was a phone volunteer was my first ever Pride. It was quite surreal and – as I’d only been out a few years – a deeply moving experience. I’ve been down Yonge Street countless times since, but the street in my memory seems which wider; how else could it have fit the thousands of smiles I saw that day? I liken it to the scene in “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?” when a trepidatious Bob Hoskin enters Toon Town and is welcomed on either side of the road by the beaming townsfolk who implore him to “SMILE” in a bursting chorus.

That day I was profoundly thankful for all those who had marched those streets before me. Those who had endured bashings, police brutality and a city that preferred they’d keep their sexually to themselves. To that small group of pioneers we all owe a huge debt and we do ourselves no favours by forgetting what they withstood. A community that doesn’t know its own history will last about as long as an out-of-towner at Pride remains unpropositioned.

Another great memory was playing with the Hidden Cameras at Pride in 2002. We were still a young band and, as we’d had played the smaller Fruit Loopz stage the year before, scoring the headlining spot on a big stage was pretty big deal for us. Spread out north along Church from Wood Street was the largest crowd we’d ever played for.

- Justin Stayshyn

I have a confession to make: I’ve only been to one Pride before, and unfortunately, it was a short lived experience at best. It seems that the logistics of time and space have been conspiring against me, keeping me out of the city and away from Pride for years. Even last year, during my first official summer as a Torontonian, I found myself – somewhat ironically – working in Calgary while family and friends celebrated Pride week. Fortunately, my schedule has developed a force field around itself, effectively protecting me from any work and travel plans designed to interrupt my participation in Pride. This year, I am excited to join in the celebration with family and friends – many of whom are losing their Pride virginity as well.

For many of my friends and I, growing up in the suburbs unfortunately meant that Pride was understood and represented as a rather one-dimensional event. However, over the past few years, despite having to observe from afar, I’ve been privy to many great Pride stories. These stories have been as diverse as the people who’ve shared them with me, and it is this diversity of voices and experiences that most excites me for this year’s Pride. Even during my one ‘quickie Pride’, I remember standing with my sister, cheering loudly as group after group marched by. Not only were we thrilled to be in a crowd of people as enthusiastic as we were, but we were also excited to celebrate the multitude of GLBT and ally voices represented in the parade. It is this level of inclusion and openness that demonstrates both the strength of Pride as well its importance to many communities, families, and individuals in Toronto. So while my friends and I are all pretty pumped about the parties, the extended bar hours, the floats, and the sheer insanity of it all, we are all also incredibly excited – and proud – to finally participate and add our own voices to the celebration and community. And although I don’t have any mind blowing or inspirational Pride memories of my own to share just yet, I look forward to many more summers in Toronto and lots of great Pride stories to come.

- Dana Herlihey

My favourite Pride memory… I was living in Windsor and decided to make the trek (which would become an annual pilgrimage) to Toronto for my first Pride. I was a newbie, so I really wanted to document the experience, and kept my camera at the ready. Initially, it was all pics of flashy floats and topless boys (the lens was guided by my then 20-year-old brain, after all). However, while I was taking a break on the sidelines of the parade route, I met a family from Asia – mom, dad and two kids under 5. They were new arrivals to Canada and were so excited to bring their children to a parade. The daughter was busily waving her rainbow Pride flag. The son was happily sporting his “Loud and Proud” bandana. They demonstrated such openness, such a profoundly easy acceptance of difference, and helped to remind me of the real beauty of Pride. They were kind enough to allow me to take a picture of them, which is my favourite picture from that Pride and any since.

- Luke Southern

My favourite pride moments are all about the music. I’m not talking about the international headliners, although it’s nifty that Cyndi Lauper and Kelis will be here this year. What really gets me going are the indie acts that are vibrating with excitement to play to such a huge crowd!

Standout fave moments include rushing the stage holding my childhood bestie’s hand and screaming at David Usher to remove his clothing, have my babies, etc. At least that’s the print-friendly memory I can share. Rukus, The Hidden Cameras and Esthero were also ginormous highlights for me! The amount of raw talent gracing these stages makes my inner geeky fanboyness race right to the surface.

This year I’m excited to see Serial Sean, Hunter Valentine, Kay Pettigrew, and to wander the streets checking out as much live stuff as I can. I’ll be the one flinging his manties at the favourites

- Patrick Goguen

Selecting a favourite pride moment is difficult for me because being Proud is a life, not a moment… it is the everyday, being your pure, honest self.

If I had to pick a one, it was when attending Blockorama 11 at George Hislop Parkette for Jojo Flores’ Michael Jackson Tribute. I was with my boyfriend and four great friends, dancing in the rain, to the hits of the newly deceased pop icon. It was a fantastic vibe and magnetic sense of community: all of celebrating the music of the star we grew up with.

- Randy Guevara

I’ve been attending Pride since I was 16. Most of my strongest memories revolve the arts-based work I have done during the festival.

As a baby gay, I spent many summers volunteering with Supporting Our Youth to put on the incredible FRUIT LOOPZ stage. Every Pride Saturday some of our best and brightest queer youth talent is profiled on this stage. Many people have gone on to great arts careers or to support LGBTTI2QQ communities in other ways. FRUIT LOOPZ was an event I helped to plan, helped to host and supported by performing at. I’m so thankful for these experiences as they gave me the tools to develop my own event- ARTWHERK!

With ARTWHERK!, some friends and I wanted to create a cultural space that allowed emerging and young LGBTTI2QQ artists to express themselves and talk about the issues affecting their communities. We have been able to create dialogue around issues like HIV/AIDS, body image, immigration, homophobia, sexual identity, family, fashion and the list goes on. While some of these issues are not “queer”, they are all fiercely personal and political. I’m happy to have created an event that honours freedom of expression. By forging a partnership between ARTWHERK! and the Art Gallery of Ontario, we are able to make LGBTTI2QQ issues the issues of our city, country and world.

I’m also proud to perform with BoylesqueTO at various pride events. I’ve been able to talk about sex, gender, body image and many other social issues through satire and burlesque. At our first pride performance, attendees came up to me and said “I never thought I’d see someone that looks like me on stage doing burlesque”. It is quite rewarding to play with and challenge gender norms and try to redefine “sexy” for people like myself who are considered “too this” or “too that”.

This year, many communities are not allowing Pride Toronto to ignore the expressions of their needs. This is a really tricky transition period, which I hope leads to an agreeable outcome. My wish for pride and prides to come is that the organization Pride Toronto and the communities it seeks to represent will find ways to build a wonderful event that everyone can enjoy. But until that happens, my advice to everyone would be to take a risk and try to create what you feel is missing! Community is never just in place. It has to be built – and I’d love to see your creations.

- Christopher Hayden

My first Pride was at 16.

I had recently “come out” to a group of friends, many of them were Gay & Lesbian, and the first of my friends to share my “dark secret”. There was an overwhelming sense of wanting to belong. And an excitement of finally being able to speak the words “I’m Gay!!”, without a petrifying fear of rejection.

They invited me to join them one weekend that summer at Church & Wellesley — unknowing it was Pride, or what Pride meant… I remember walking out of the station at Wellesley. There was a hum in the air. Rainbow balloon arches and a beaming sun. I cried, right there at the subway opening. Yea…i was a pansy fag, over-emotional, and insecure but in that moment I felt unstoppable — and it felt like home.

At 18, I was helping to run the local youth group (LGBYT) at the 519 Community Centre. We had decided to march together as a group that year. And it was the most exciting sense of purpose, belonging, and community. Costumes, glitter, team cheers and group hugs. From that day, marching in the parade has always signified an overwhelming sense of Love, Acceptance, and Strength in numbers.

Over the years, I have marched at the front — hand gripping hard to the Giant Rainbow Flag above my head. Other years I have been joined by my Father, Mother and Sister. I have marched with PFLAG, danced on a Priape float, helped organize with ProudFM, and even gotten directly involved with Pride Toronto itself.

This year, as Pride turns 30, I watched our community stumble through an evolution of Pride. Old’ Timers’ grasp onto history, afraid of losing their relevance. Activists grasp deperately onto Pride as platform, speaking out against Social Injustice’s in Land’s far away.

This year I hope to march alongside my family, again with PFLAG. Mom will be Volunteering at Family Pride. Dad will march in solidarity. And my sister has flown back from overseas with her daugther …. to participate, celebrate, and support with Love.

Each year Pride means something different to each of us, and that meaning of Pride changes.

But for me….Pride is a feeling. One that makes me breathe deep, appreciate, and truly be Proud of how far we, as a community have come. And how lucky I am to live in Canada, as and Out Gay Man.

This year, I will be celebrating 30 Years of Pride. And looking forward to the next 30 to come.

Happy Pride Toronto.

- Michael Ain

It was summer 2006 when my musical theatre aspirations and willingness to work anywhere to “climb the ladder” landed me in cheesy revue show. All 9 of us lived in a tiny cottage with one bathroom, and would travel from one muskoka resort to another and pony our way through sped- up billy joel/ elton john medleys. I think I changed costumes for every number (like 10 times) and the audience could usually see you changing, because our “set” was just two angled pieces of wood that had the words “VIBE: Rock On 2006!” painted on the front. Anyway, it was nightmarish (for me at least). However, there was one upside to being in the VIBE crew- we got to perform in the Pride Parade! Now- I have been on many a stage and performed to a few thousand at times, but I don’t anything will ever compare to the feeling of performing to the euphoric and liberated crowds at pride. People were so into our disco medley/ choreography, people were so into our not being on a float and actually just dancing through the streets, people (some friends, mostly strangers) were grabbing my hands and kissing me. It was great. We danced tirelessly for the entire parade- like 3 hours in the blazing hot sun. I ended up getting severe sunstroke and dehydration. Then I quit VIBE. It was awesome.

- Allie Hughes

My first few prides are murky in my mind as my mom took me when I was about 9. She took me to Pride, Santa Clause and Carabanna ….ect well the last one was my dad but you get the idea. My mom wanted to expose me to all the different communities in Toronto.

I’d not venture to my next pride until I was 13 by accident. I was looking to hit my favorite comic shop at Yonge & Wellesley and had no idea it was the day of the parade. I mean I still wouldn’t come out to my mom for 2 more years, so going to pride seemed a miss for me looking back on that day. I saw a bit of the parade, got my comics and went home to read. Fast forward past high school and into college when I hit pride a few months after my 20th birthday with friends. Even though I was a homo in high school. I had no interest in guys or going to pride. I was so focused on doing well in school and working to afford my life style of comics, technology and video games.

I marched in the parade in 2004 for Humber College and did my cowboy outfit proud. Friends came and went out of my life for the next 9 years and sometimes I made the tough choice to cut ties and respect myself first and foremost. A few are still around to this day and that makes me go wow at knowing anyone for almost a decade now. What I’ve not said is I’ve moved almost 14 times around Toronto growing up. So I never had a stable set of friends. So the fact I still know Ben almost 9 years later is crazy.

However, as I approach almost a decade of going to pride, a few things stick out to me in my mind. It’s all about seeing my friends and the parade is an opportunity to do that. Pride is nothing without the people you love most right by your side. Pride is really what you made it and if you don’t see something you want… then help create it. We’re one huge ”community” and many times we don’t cater to everyone.

Regardless of what Pride Toronto, City of Toronto and everyone else decides to do. I’ll be calling up my friends to make plans with them on June 27th because that’s a day for us to get together and I don’t need pride to do it anymore.

P.S. Feel free to join us…. You won’t regret it!

- Duane Brown

My first Pride experience was just after my first year of university. I took the train into Toronto with some friends of mine, excited but not sure of what to expect. I’d never felt much of a kinship with body shots or house music – maybe I could just spend my weekend eating fries at the chip truck?

But, when I got there, the element that impressed upon me the most was the true diversity. Not just amoung the queer community, but with everyone. People of all orientaions, races, ages; parents, children, even whole families. I really felt like no matter who I was, this was an event and a community that included me – not just because I was gay, but because I was there. There really was an almost-tangible energy in the air of ‘belonging’.
And so, I went forth and drank my own body weight in Smirnoff Ice.

Even today, I think of Pride less as a queer event and more as an event where everyone is welcome, regardless of our circumstances.

- Trevor Campbell

My favorite pride story is my first Pride.

I had just moved to Toronto in 1996 and come out to my family earlier that year. I was asked to march in the parade with my employer at the time. My mom and my step father, who were visiting at the time, marched with me in the parade and we threw mardi-gras bead necklaces into the crowd it was a great time.

I met my first boyfriend that Pride, and made friends that I still have today … It was the perfect first Pride.

- Kevin Donnay Clarke

I’ve been going to Pride for what feels like an eternity. So needless to say, I’ve got a lot of great memories of the event: My father who seems to almost never miss the Parade & always rings me to mock me over the fact that he’s scored a rooftop vantage point whilst I get carried away by the crowd on the streets below. My mother being hit on (much to my chagrin) during the Dyke marches…and then her innocently wondering why she’s never been invited back to hang out with me. Running into friends I haven’t seen in months & the realisation that it’s Pride that keeps us connected.

I think, though, that my best Pride year was 2007. My business partner managed to convince me that we should volunteer to be Pride photographers. We’d been looking for more queer events to work at (Pete’s the most Queer straight guy I know) and he figured Pride met our criteria perfectly. Not only was it a great parade, but Pride week was a fantastic lead in to my upcoming nuptials. Thinking back on it, it was probably a bit crazy of me to say yes to an event that was a mere 3 days before my wedding day, but I probably needed a “distraction” from the last minute planning.

That Pride seemed brighter, louder & friendlier than any parade I’d ever attended. Maybe it was because I was completely on cloud 9. Or maybe because my wife-to-be was wandering the crowds with me. Or maybe it was because I knew that I live in a city where two gals getting married is really just an everyday kind of thing.

- Renee Navarro

I don’t know if I would call myself a late bloomer, but coming out to my mom was something that didn’t happen until my twenties had begun. I didn’t make a big deal out of the announcement because I had such a strong relationship with my mom up to that point. Sure I expected the initial shock, but anticipated that it would be closely followed by acceptance and pride. I was even so bold to casually mention it days before Christmas while I was home visiting. The reaction, the tears, anger and disappointment that followed was something I was in no way prepared for. My mom said some things I never would have imagined, including many lines I swear she stole from television shows. We were a devastated pair. I had ruined Christmas.

The worst part was that my dreams of sharing this aspect of my life with her were squashed. Meeting my partner or going to Pride with me were things I now felt we could never experience together, but I desperately wanted to.

Two and a half years later, during a hungover Saturday morning of Pride weekend, a text message changed the world. It was mom. She was downtown. On Church St. In a beer garden. Wondering where the hell I was.

I hauled my ass out of bed and joined her, roommate and boyfriend in tow. We spent the afternoon drinking, dancing and getting my mom all of the temporary tattoos and Pride flags we could find. It was a day I was sure would never be able to have. It was the first time since I came out that I felt that she was proud of me. And I was proud of her.

- Curtis Norman

It was a sunny day in Sarnia (I’m now the second Sarnia boy featured here). I chose to check out the City’s Pride Parade during a summer home, after an invitation from a friend in a liberal religious group, the only in the City to marry gays. I knew them through environmental activism and local Green Politics. Upon arrival I realized it was one of those little parades where everyone walks – not watches.

And so I’m now walking at the head of the Pride Parade, one with good spirit but mostly neutral to unsure onlookers. This was a parade in which in recent years, a councilor tried to deny a street permit. I’d also heard that stones were thrown at participants the year before.

After filing into a park for further celebrations, I was asked to say a few words on behalf of my friend who had to leave early to officiate a wedding. So with a kiss and a “he’s cute” from the drag queen emcee, I said a few words on rights – on same-sex marriage, in a spirit of celebration at what had been made legal earlier that year.

The awkwardness of the whole situation – unexpectedly walking, leading, speaking – is that I was not out myself, still figuring things out about who I was.

A good friend still jokes how I came out to her – “her” at the time, whose gender identity and orientation had changed as well – a few days after getting that transformative kiss from a drag queen.

Reflecting, I now see that identity and politics have been always intertwined for me.
I have since walked annually in the Toronto Pride Parade with the Green Party and once as an activist VP of the UW Federation of Students, enjoying the celebration and representing the personal political perspectives I bring. Toronto’s Pride must continue to be a place for proud, uncensored, political voices, or it will lack purpose and depth.

Now in Toronto, I’m still working on sustainability and food issues, along with trans rights. Having today returned from a political conference where a group of rural and urban Greens age 20 to 80 didn’t bat an eyelash at the idea of explicit human rights protection on gender identity, I wonder why it can’t be the same for the governments in power. I believe this will soon change because of the hard work of activists.

As a Sarnian, I now share some of my upbringing story with the gay author of Fruit. But Sarnia’s not the smallest or least tolerant of places. There is much work to do on rights and health today, in those small towns and cities across Canada and in many countries throughout the world. I hope we keep shakin it up.

- Darcy Higgins

Pride for me has always centred on the Alterna-Queer space next to Buddies, a space still dedicated to misfits and outsiders. Just a little outside the main hustle and bustle, the vibe a little different, a little rougher, and oh so much queerer. In his book Stroll, Shawn Micallef writes “[like] all borders that don’t exist anymore, we cross…without thinking, only occasionally noticing something that reminds us it was there.” Pride has that feeling these days, of crossing the boundary out of the straight world that has created a space for us, back into our queer past where we inhabited the margins. I’m old enough to remember what it was like when all queers were forced to live on the outside – unseen, unheard, unrecognized, often mis-seen, mis-heard and mis-recognized. And I’m deeply grateful to live in the here and now, where I can cross that boundary, back into comfort, acceptance and safety. But Pride exists as a presently lived reality, not just a remembered testament, for all of those who can’t always cross that boundary, from outsider to acceptance. At the Alterna-Queer stage, I see myself, the outsider that I was, reaching forward to my present, as a bridge and a beacon.

- Cheryl Coffin

You always remember your first time – in this case, we’re talkin’ Pride. Mine was a month or two after I had moved to Toronto in 2007. Before that I went to high school in Small Town, ON and delayed my coming out process until I left home to attend the University of Guelph. Even though I was out to my family and friends by the time I had a degree in-hand, I still wasn’t really interested in doing any of that “gay stuff”. I was content to drink pints at the pub with the boys, two-step with the ladies at the country bar, and when I was invited by some friends to take a road trip to Toronto one summer to attend the Pride Parade, I politely turned down the offer. Friends would comment that I was the straightest gay guy they’d ever met – they were probably right.

Back story now provided, I was livin’ it large in the big city – I had a big place in midtown with an awesome roommate and I was ready to spend the summer partying while looking for a job. When June rolled around, curiosity got the best of me so I decided to invite a few people to my place and to join me for the Pride Parade. I was nervous and excited (and just maybe a little hung-over) when we got downtown for the parade, but we snagged a spot up front and took it all in.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t the parade itself that sticks in my mind as my most memorable Pride moment. That moment came just after the parade had finished and we found ourselves in the sea of people heading towards Church Street. In that hot sweaty mess of people, I saw men holding hands, kissing one another, and checking each other (and me) out without worrying about what other people thought. It was this feeling of freedom that was most memorable – it was something I had never experienced before.

Pride isn’t just about the parties, the scantily clad guys, the stage shows, and the street celebrations (although they’re all pretty fabulous), it’s about freedom, it’s about friendship, and it’s about finding yourself. It shows, on a massive scale, just how strong and how vibrant our community really is. It shows, as this year’s theme proclaims, you belong.

Over the last four years, I met some of my closest and dearest friends at Pride – and these friends have helped me grow and accept myself. That “gay stuff” is part of my life now – and it’s awesome. Of course, not everything has changed – I’ll still two-step with you if you buy me a pint.

Happy 30th, Pride Toronto! I’ll see you there!

- Josh “Jack” Hass

My first Pride involved myself marching with my friends that I made through the youth group LGBYT (Lesbian, Gay, and Bisexual Youth of Toronto) and it was a very liberating experience. After wards I always ended up marching every year with LGBTY and then with the university group LGBTOUT (Lesbians, Gays, Bisexual and Trans People of the University of Toronto) and I currently march with RyePride. I have always felt a sense of liberation and happiness when I do march with my friends and peers because I feel like I am a part of something unique.

Aside from marching I have also performed at Pride as the drag queen Takeme Spears these past years. A few Pride shows that I have been involved with were through groups and parties such as Asian Express, Queer Asian Youth and Colour Me Dragg. One show that particularly stands out occurred during the Queer Asian Youth Cafés shows because my entire family was in the audience and saw me perform, for the first time. I was very happy when I saw my mom, dad and aunts out in the audience and I felt real sense of PRIDE and Joy that day!

- Samson Romero

While many great times and important life events have happened during Pride, it’s my first Dyke March that stands out.

I had just moved to Toronto a few months earlier, after having grown up in a small town and gone to university in Waterloo (I thought I was finally moving to the city – no one told me it would be so much like the small town I had just escaped). It was also my first year organizing with Ladyfest Toronto. A lifelong feminist, Ladyfest was the first time I had put my politics in motion in a tangible, organized way.

Before the march, a group of Ladyfesters gathered at my apartment on Maitland Street. We made signs, prepped our flyers and created a huge banner out of improvised materials and lots of sequins. We hastily fashioned outrageous outfits, cutting up old curtains, t-shirts and whatever else we had around. We poured our DIY feminist spirit into our march materials, and had a ton of fun – all before the march had even started.

We then made our way down to the march. Walking down Yonge Street, I was a bit nervous at first. Having a huge crowd of strangers looking at me and taking photos is not my favourite thing in life. But the apprehension quickly gave way to excitement. It was thrilling to be surround by huge numbers of queer women and amazing allies, and encouraging to see people’s interest in Ladyfest – asking to know more, promising to check out the festival. (Turns out queer women are totally into an event called Ladyfest.)

The Dyke March was the first time I had encountered such a feeling of community. So many people had shown up to show what it is to be queer and female, in all of the many different ways those identities manifest themselves. It was public celebration of a diverse community that is often maligned and misunderstood by mainstream culture. It was the perfect mix of party and politics. Though I’ll be marching this year in an alternate event – Take Back The Dyke – I’ll always look back fondly on that first march, which was also the first step towards my wonderful new life.

- Carly Beath

For me, Pride is all about a mystical convergence of the sublime and the very stupid. My friend Morgan and I had a tradition of marching in the Pride Parade with one of the floats because we like throwing beads at people. But last year, we had to skip it so we could host an outdoor burlesque show at the Church and Wellesley stage.

The theme was “circus,” so she was the Bearded Lady (complete with perpetually growing beard) and I was the Ring-Master, which involved an outfit consisting of Converse high-tops, gold lamé leggings, suspenders, a high school marching band jacket, a monocle, and a party favour top hat that stayed on my head for maybe 30 seconds. Note that the outfit did not involve a shirt. Since Pride is Pride, I figured I’d better hit the gym a few times before the big day, and I was quite pleased to have whipped my torso into a relatively-inoffensive shape.

That morning, we met with the troupe at a loft downtown for a dress rehearsal, which went very well, and the consensus was that we should all get burritos for lunch before the big show. I don’t know what we were thinking. My poor little tummy bloated in a way I did not think humanly possible. Of course, none of that mattered when Morgan and I were lifted into the air on the arms of half a dozen scantily-clad hunks while a crowd of a thousand people cheered and clapped. I was filled to the brim with excitement, joy, love, and, well, pride. Then I saw the photos from the show on Facebook the next day, which mostly let you know that I was filled to the brim with burrito. So, I’m not sure whether that’s a profound experience wrapped in a shallow epiphany or the other way around, but I think it was a sublime, stupid, perfect Pride moment. But this year, I’m ordering a salad.

- Johnnie Walker

Here I sit searching my noggin for ‘Best Pride Memory’, ‘Favourite Pride Moment’, and oh so much is flashing through my mind from twenty years of celebrating Pride in Toronto, flashing like lights hitting disco balls at massive Pride parties, or smiles across a million faces when Pride Week takes over our city every year.

In other words, it’s Sophie’s Choice trying to pick just one somethin’.

Never mind, because what hits me is now that my favourite Pride memories actually have to be those I have amassed this year – even though 2010’s Pride is still almost a month away.

Some don’t like that we’ve entered uncharted waters, off course from the ideal Pride so many hold in their minds. Some find it exhilarating. Me, I observe it all unfolding and appreciate it: the turmoil, the politics, the theatrics, the displays, the challenges, the conflict, the division, the uncertainty, the dialogue and the debate.

This contrast is the launching pad for myriad benefits for us all: new ideas, better ways, activists now better activists, causes further fueled, people behind Pride Toronto better at what they do.

Passionate community shake-up was the genesis of this city’s Pride 30 years ago, and look how each of us over three decades has benefited from that. Future queer generations will also benefit – mightily – as a result of the strife we have been experiencing, and they’ll be proud it happened.

Only I’m proud now. This is my best Pride memory: Now.

Peace and love and Happy Pride.

- Shaun Proulx

Over the years, my Toronto Pride experience has ranged from the tame to the absolutely ludicrous. I have had the pleasure of doing everything from volunteering/marching with the Bears of Toronto and/or York University/TBLGAY, to playing on a Pride stage with my band Casey vs. Jon, to wading into the pond at Ryerson University to fetch my inebriated friend Laura from some dark force that never materialized to anyone but herself. After much thought, one moment in particular stuck out to me and that was my experience last year as Co-chair of the Bears by Nature (BbN) entry in the 2009 Toronto Pride Parade.

When Don (Collymore) and I set out to participate in the Pride Parade under the Bears by Nature banner, we had two goals. One, to create Bear community visibility which had been lacking prior to BbN’s entry in 2008 and two, to employ grassroots ethics and practices to meet our ends. Determined to raise all the funds ourselves, we had our work cut out for us hosting monthly events at the Rhino and later on Gladamen’s Den. Thankfully, we had good enough turn out and support from the community to not only raise the funds we needed but as well, rope in the volunteers necessary to build the float. Come Parade Day, we, true to Murphy’s law, almost didn’t make it into the parade due to last minute assembly and technical issues. Just as the police convoy was coming up aside us to close out the parade and end our months of effort, everything fell into place and we took off running just barely edging out the police cruisers. You can imagine the relief that was felt by all as we emerged from the staging area into the sea of people cheering us on and the subsequent high we felt as we cruised through the streets of Toronto flying our sail proudly. This is what pride is all about.

To me, Pride can not be essentialized down to one quality. As diverse as my own experiences of my sexuality and identity have been, same have my experiences been with Pride and how I choose to express my pride. It can be something as simple as a shared favourite queer rock act or something as complicated as a shared identity politic but I believe it is at these intersections of commonalities where we find our common pride and where we unite as a community.

- Casey Oraa

I came out of the closet at 12 years of age to a liberal family in a large city, I have always been proud of who I am, and who I love. Never Was I told to be ashamed of who I am, so to me pride for the most part is just an excuse to party. Or at least this is what I thought until a few years ago.

I moved to Toronto a few years back from Ottawa and have traveled across this country, I have friends in every large city, and acquaintances scattered about. A few prides back I remember being on the CTV float looking out onto the sea of people throwing beads at screaming scantly clad queers. Along the route I saw people I knew from every corner of the country all gathered together in Toronto for pride. It’s easy being in a big city that is accepting and celebratory of diversity to forget that you are part of a relatively small community.

Pride to me is a bold reminder that we are small, but together we are great. It’s a reason for the community to gather from far and wide to come together to celebrate our uniqueness. For a moment I thought of what it must be like to be from a small town, coming into the big city to be around so many like minded people. Although I have never had that feeling I can sympathise and understand the importance of pride. From atop that float I could see a sea of men, women, and children all here to embrace diversity and the sense of community. I warmly welcomed them home.

-Andrew Fraser Stewart

June 1999. I was 18 years old, I had just graduated from high school, and I had just come out. It was a summer of many firsts for me — my first girlfriend, my first Pride weekend, and my first time playing my music live at an outdoor festival. I was scheduled to play on the North Stage stationed around Gloucester Street on the Sunday afternoon. The big parade was just winding down and as the multitudes of people from Yonge Street flooded on to Church Street, I was ready to start my humble 30 minute set.

I remember seeing people watching from their balconies. I remember fumbling my pick across acoustic guitar strings. I remember belting out my cover of Nine Inch Nails’ Closer. I remember much applause and cheering for that bold move. And I remember looking straight out from on stage, down the length of Toronto’s gay village, to an audience of hundreds (maybe thousands), thinking that this was one of those moments in life that you never forget. I was nervous as hell but also extremely excited. Not just to be performing, but to be doing so amongst this vast community that I could now call my own.

It’s been over a decade. I’ve played many shows and I’ve attended many Prides since then. And while I assure you there have been incredible moments in all of them and many more to come, none have quite compared to the first.

- Michelle Turingan

There was a time when I didn’t believe in the idea of “pride” or, more appropriately, I didn’t really care to identify with it. Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t ashamed, I just never felt I had to. I wore what I wanted, went where I wanted and did whatever (with whomever) I wanted. There was no rush to be around like-minded folk because I never felt different. But at the same time, I wore rainbow-coloured dog tags around my neck (as was the style among us tweens) to show some sort of solidarity with a community I hadn’t even bothered to take an interest in. I was a confused contradiction. It wasn’t until years later when an ex-boyfriend decided to tell his family that he was gay that I realized I had been making more of a fashion statement than a political one, and I began to understand and construct the importance of pride – or rather, having pride. I didn’t need to officially “come out,” so I was never faced with threats of being disowned or worries of falling out with friends. With no one to turn to, it was other gay friends (and a whole community, really) that supported the newly liberated like him and the utterly clueless like me.

And although the ex is long gone, the idea of pride and its significance to my life not only as person, but also as a homosexual, has always lingered. Would I be any less proud if I weren’t gay?

In the end, I was finally able to realize that pride isn’t about sexuality at all. Once you take away the labels, the clothes, the boyfriend – even the parade – all you’re left with is what you know you can count on, regardless of sexuality, geography, creed or colour: pride in yourself. It might not be measured in weeks, floats or dog tags for all gays, but we’ve all got pride in common (even the most self-described ’straight-acting’ fag can’t deny!) when we can be who we are because we will it so, despite your MO.

On that note, I’d like to give a big shout out to all those who came before me these past 30 years. Your decades of true solidarity have let boys like me grow up to form and subscribe to alternative definitions of pride. And if it just so happens that you’re also gay, well then that’s fabulous too.

- Paul Aguirre-Livingston

My most memorable pride moment was in my mid twenties when I finally found Vazoween, aka Will Munro’s Vazaleen Halloween Party, Gay Shame. Up until that point I had no idea that there was an alternative queer scene in Toronto, or at least not one that I could identify with. Gay Shame was an awesome party!

I ended up meeting a lot of my now long time friends at those parties. They told me that they were living in the west end near Parkdale, and that there were a lot of like minded people moving there. Shortly afterwards I emigrated to Parkdale where I have lived now for almost 6 years.

I really started to come into my queer freakish self at that point in my life and I really have Will Munro to thank for that. Without him I still might have never found my queer niche community in Parkdale or made any of the long time alliances and friendships that have so affected my career and my overall sense of safety and happiness.

- Jeremy Vandermeij

My favourite Pride story dates back to when Bar 501 was on Church Street where Priape now is. It was one of the very few bars with a street-level window (and was home of the notorious Window Show that caused so much trouble with nearby residents) and the bar would always get impossibly packed during Pride.

As you can imagine, the people working the bars during Pride are faced with insanity for hours on end. So it was no surprise that one of our friends who was working there, Billy, finished his shift only to discover that he couldn’t actually get out of the bar. He had to crowd-surf his way out the front window and onto the street. When he finally landed on the pavement, he yelled out for all to hear, “I HATE FAGS!” It was a magical moment.

- David Demchuk

Ok so, I’m a child of the 90’s, so its not like I fought for gay rights. Also, I didn’t survive the AIDS crisis. When I was growing up Will & Grace and Queer as Folk were already cult classics. Ellen had already come out of the closet and George Michael was caught doing that thing that we’re not supposed to talk about. My parents are 1st generation yuppies and were so supportive that they basically clapped every time I went poop. So yes, according to many I’ve had everything handed to me; and guess what? I effing love it!

For many of my age, Pride is about the hardships of growing up gay. Yes, being made fun of every day of high school hurts like a bitch; But the fact that you KNOW that you were always the best dressed and most well mannered of your classmates makes it almost worth it. Shm-activism, I think that showing my pecs -or lack thereof – in order to score some beads, doesn’t really affect change. Neither does clapping for naked people marching down the street or a couple of politicians looking for some swaying voters.

Seriously though, I am proud. Very proud. Proud that I am a considered equal; That I don’t have to be ashamed or scared because of my sexuality. I guess that is what Pride – as an event – is for me: A time where I get to remember and honour those who came before me and couldn’t be themselves. A time to have a drink and say to those old queens: “CHEERS! and Thank you! But I won’t fuck you. Weeeeell, maybe after another round”.

Happy Pride Bitches!

- Francisco Chacin