Pride and Protest: “Parade” Screening at Museum London

Last month, I went to Toronto’s Soulpepper Theatre to watch a production of Michael R. Jackson’s Tony and Pulitzer award-winning musical, “A Strange Loop.” I was stunned by its unapologetic Blackness, especially seeing it amongst a predominantly white crowd. The musical offers a gritty understanding of the lived experiences of a Black gay man in the modern era (modern as in like 2015 modern, to be fair), so much so that a white family with their young daughter packed up and left by the third song.

I could not stop thinking about this white family leaving. I kept wondering if they had bothered to read the production’s description of its language use, or just to look into what a “Big Black and Queer-Ass” hit musical might mean. As comical as I thought it was, it was annoying that they wasted those tickets by presumably assuming that all such a production would be palatable to them. A story so obviously about how difficult it is to live as yourself making some audiences uncomfortable isn’t that foreign of a concept, but watching that happen made me think of the palatability of protests, particularly in queer resistance and queer art.

With queer resistance in mind, I was delighted to attend Museum London’s screening of Noam Gonick’s documentary Parade: Queer Acts of Love & Resistance in honour of International LGBT Pride Day on Saturday, June 28. 

Parade captures the true essence of pride as a revolutionary movement and a protest for queer and 2SLGTBQIA+ rights across Canada, and explains that the Pride parade was never meant to be palatable. It was a fight, and a demand for rights and protections.

The documentary beautifully explores pivotal moments in queer Canadian history and uncovers decades of police brutality against the queer community and gay rights activists.

It features drag queens, former editors of “The Body Politic,” queer activists, and also utilizes tons of archival footage, bringing to life different neighborhoods in Toronto and recognizing them as sites of historic protest for queer liberation for gays and lesbians.

The film also focuses on the many different intersections of queer people creating spaces to fit into the larger queer rights movement and talks to several founders. It explored the impacts of the Dewson House for racialized queer youth in downtown Toronto, the origins of Gay Asians of Toronto and their historic first march leading the Pride parade through Chinatown in Toronto, as well as the origins of the queer pan-Indigenous term Niihz manidoowag or the “2 Spirit” at the third annual Inter-tribal Native American, First Nations, Gay and Lesbian American Conference held in Winnipeg in 1990.

In documenting the hate that the Pride protests received, and the bigotry and harassment the Canadian queer community faced, Parade dares Pride to be about protest. To be about bringing the queer community together to fight for something. It scandalizes the recent police involvement in the parade, juxtaposing their presence with stark images and videos of police brutality throughout the rest of the film. Showing archival footage of the Toronto and Montreal bars and bathhouse raids in the 1980s, Operation SOAP, the raiding of and lawsuits against the gay cultural magazine ‘The Body Politic’, and countless other moments seen and unseen, the documentary highlights the bizarre lack of historical understanding that comes with the long controversial stance of welcoming police forces to Pride parades.

The film ends with a somewhat brief recognition of the struggles currently faced by the transgender community across Canada. It uses recent footage from 2023 of nationwide protests against educational content about 2SLGBTQ+ communities and policies in schools, called the “1 Million March For Children,” and counter-protests they have sparked. It acknowledges the rampant transphobia in Canadian society, urging Pride to return to its protest and demand origins.

Unfortunately, this was the only discussion of trans issues in the documentary, which gives a false implication that the trans struggle in Canada is a recent one.

The film ends with a dedication:

“For those who step off the sidewalk and into the road.”

The Museum’s screening didn’t include a Q&A, but I had the opportunity to speak with Sarah Munro, Museum London’s Curator of Engagement and Outreach. She explained that the museum partnered with the National Film Board of Canada, which she praised for its dedication to preserving film and supporting emerging directors and nonprofit organizations.

“I was really inspired by the kind of archival footage that was included in this documentary, and I’m really taken by the fact that it included so many diverse communities — they brought it back to contemporary times now, and the uphill battle that our trans community faces constantly.”

I also spoke with a queer couple, Catherine and her partner Kirstel, who lingered in the theater after the credits rolled to thank Munro and the museum’s volunteers. Catherine, a Toronto native, recounted growing up in Toronto in 1985. 

“There were kiss-ins at the Eaton Centre, which [you could see] footage of… I remember The Body Politic, it just brought back, like so many memories. It was very impactful, I cried.” 

She remarked that a big part of her crying was recognizing the rise and resurgence of anti-trans hatred. “I found [the ending] really, really hard, because I feel that either there is this … rise of white nationalist fascism happening just south of us right now, right, and all of the rights that are being rolled back in the States, that I worry is gonna come up here. It already is.”

Munro noted how the themes in Parade resonate with Museum London’s recently launched exhibit, Fashion: Grit, Glamour and Guts, which similarly explores stories of resilience, representation, and identity across generations.

“Advocating for individual rights, advocating for freedom, advocating for people to be people in whatever way, shape, or form they want to be, is important, and it’s integral to highlight.”

Parade is free to stream on NFB.ca.