In the Name of Love

After the Orlando shooting, I felt compelled to attend a pride flag ceremony at City Hall. I took time off work and hiked down the street, joined the throng of other like-minded souls and listened as our mayor made a speech before asking us to participate in a moment of silence for the victims of this purely hate-driven crime. I stood with my head bowed and my hand on my heart, and when the moment was over, I heard someone say my name.

Looking up, I was pleasantly surprised to see a former workmate who had moved on to bigger and better things. His office was just down the street, he said, what was I doing here?

“I’m just so sorry that this happened,” I replied. “I can’t believe it.” And yet I could, given the pin-headed contrast in this enlightened age. We chatted for a minute, catching up, then he introduced me to his sister, who is in a lesbian relationship. If his compassion had not made sense to me before—which it had; he’s a truly lovely guy—it made complete sense to me then.

Whether you know it or not, at some point in your life, a friend, co-worker, neighbour, or family member has either been attracted to the same sex or wanted to be a member of the opposite. If you knew and you were okay with it, kudos to you. If you’re running through a list of everyone you’ve ever known and wondering, please stop wasting your time. It’s obvious that you wouldn’t have been okay.

In my opinion, as long as it’s consensual and the players are of legal age, there is no shame in loving where your heart leads you. The shame is in the shaming.

You can’t convince me that the percentage of gay, lesbian, bi- or trans-gender people in society has increased over the years. I’m pretty sure they have always lived among us; they just haven’t been free to express it the way they are fighting to express it in the twenty-first century.

Personally, I consider them among the bravest people in the world. Nor do I condemn the folks who hid their true natures from fear of persecution and/or prosecution in times not so long past. It must have been—and still must be—horrible to pretend to be someone you’re not because being yourself might cost your family/job/reputation/life.

Our so-cool-it’s-painful Prime Minister recently marched in Toronto’s pride parade. This guy is so together, so enlightened, so necessary for the future of our country and society as a whole. He’s a great example of what Canadians not only are, but what we can be if we choose love over hate and acceptance instead of fear. Gay men are not predators and lesbian women are not mutants. Trans-gender people (and I have known one myself) only seek to be happy in their own skin. It’s not about carnal relations—or it shouldn’t be. It’s about the freedom to love where our hearts, not our minds, take us.

And so, with love,