As someone trying to figure out what the current imbroglio around Pride Toronto means for the future of Toronto's LGBT community, I found Douglas Elliott's excellent speech at the Law Society of Upper Canada's Pride reception this week especially helpful.
In his assessment of the tone of the debate over whether the phrase "Israeli Apartheid" should be banned from the annual Pride parade, Elliott was bang-on. Even setting aside the name-calling, negativity and assumptions of ill-will I've heard from both sides, the language of "otherness" has played much too big a part in this debate. There have been some very eloquent, consensus-building and compassionate voices, too. But I haven't heard so much "us" versus "them" rhetoric since the Christian Right showed up to prevent the legalization of same-sex marriage. Elliott's emphasis on "we" is vital.
When Elliott set out to define the key issues, though, I lost the thread. "Pride is about our LGBT community. It is the one time of the year when it is all about us." That's true, but I was immediately reminded of another institution about which you could say the same thing: high-school proms. A few of them, here and in the U.S., have been placed in jeopardy over LGBT issues. A student wants to bring a same-sex date, the school forbids it, the conflict escalates and the school or a court threatens to cancel the prom until the matter is settled. Elliott himself is very familiar with this narrative.
You only get one graduating prom in your life. The (mostly straight) students who suffer from the same-sex date controversy did not set the policy--it's not their issue, really. Why should they be made worry if their corsages will be left to rot in the fridge? Can't LGBT students do their own thing elsewhere? Isn't their choice of date a distraction from more serious education issues? Shouldn't the issue be decided somewhere offstage, so (mostly straight) students aren't pulled into it?
I don't agree with these complaints--I do indeed think equality issues are important education issues--but I suggest them here to demonstrate how rhetoric, rather than reality, frames how we decide what issues belong where. When Elliott was fighting for the right of Marc Hall to take his male date to the prom, I'm not sure he would have accepted a "not the right venue for this kind of thing" argument.
LGBT activists like Elliott have (rightfully) supported and celebrated these teenage same-sex date-takers (there must be a more elegant expression for that) as heroes. If one particular prom suffers in the larger fight for LGBT equality, then it's a small price to pay. But you certainly don't feel that way if you're an 18-year-old straight student and it's your prom. You might be angry with your school, but you might also just want the gay boy or lesbian girl to go away or, at least, tone it down. LGBT haven't traditionally settled for the "please go away and tone it down" option.
Then there's the issue of timing. Pointing out that the federal government withheld $400,000 of expected funding this year, Elliott says "I felt that this was a time when we all needed to rally behind Pride to cope with this financial squeeze." This quote reminded me of the Bruce Cockburn song "The Trouble with Normal." According to Cockburn, the trouble with normal is "it always gets worse."
Yes, the federal funding cut was a pain, probably motivated by homophobia. Yuck. But I look at Pride 2010 and see an organization as big and as rich as it's ever been. In the words of not-for-profit types, Pride has built a lot of capacity in the last few years. The budget looks to be more than $3 million, up from $2.7 million last year. There are 10 people on staff and a crew of able, smart and dedicated volunteer coordinators. I'm sure they would have all liked to have had this discussion done with 10 months ago--or 10 years ago--or 10 years from now. But if 2010 is not a year when people can--compassionately--discuss the meaning of Pride, how it relates to the community, how it relates to the mainstream, the compromises it's prepared to make to be well-funded and who should or shouldn't be allowed to participate in it, then I'm not sure when a time for that discussion would ever come.
Why not now? Would the middle of Toronto's World Pride in 2014 be better timing?
Nationally, it's fair to say that the court-driven queer activist agenda of the last two decades is almost at an end. We won. Yay! (Add an asterisk or two here; trans people should add several.) If we want to move ahead as a community, to manifest a form of activism and collective identity beyond the courtroom walls, we need to figure out who we are and what we want to do next. The current discussion about Pride's handling of Queers Against Israeli Apartheid is extremely pertinent to those questions. Well, it is if it can shake off the personal attacks, the lack of compromise, the unwillingness to admit mistakes, the broad sweeping generalizations, the paranoia and the snark.
Is it a pain for Pride Toronto that it has become a principal actor in this debate? Totally, yes. I bet they're much rather be blowing up balloons, booking talent and training parade marshals--or having a root canal. But they should also find it flattering. Pride celebrations, more than any other LGBT institution, are a repository of the struggles and dreams of our community. Even its harshest critics care what Pride does. That's not hate, that's love. I just wish it sounded more like it.
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