As 2025 wraps up, the Canadian Pride Historical Society has been reflecting on a year marked by new connections, hands-on education and steady growth. Across events and partnerships, CPHS continued its work of preserving and sharing Pride history in Canada in ways that feel accessible, local and community-led.
The year began in February with a Black History Month trivia night. Designed as both a learning space and a community gathering, it highlighted the importance of intersectional histories and the many stories that shape Pride in Canada.
During Pride season, CPHS expanded its presence on the Prairies. In Winnipeg, CPHS marched in the Pride Winnipeg Parade and hosted its first festival booth, connecting with visitors eager to learn more about Pride history and the Society’s work. In Saskatoon, CPHS took part in the Saskatoon Pride Parade and Festival, continuing those conversations and building new relationships with community members and organizers.
August brought a string of moments that combined celebration with public history. In Montréal, CPHS hosted its first booth at Community Day and joined the Montréal Pride Parade. In Calgary, CPHS held a Drag Storytime on Aug. 28 with partners at Owl’s Nest Books, then marched in the Calgary Pride Parade on Aug. 31. These events captured what CPHS aims to do at its best: invite people in, spark curiosity and make history something shared.
In the fall, CPHS deepened its education and outreach work. An article by CPHS was published in the Fall issue of the Manitoba Social Science Teachers’ Association journal, MB Speaks, focused on how Pride history can support citizenship education in Canadian classrooms. CPHS also presented at the MSSTA professional development day. In November, CPHS presented at Indspire’s National Gathering for Indigenous Education in Winnipeg from Nov. 19 to 21, sharing a session exploring Pride history in Indigenous communities.
November also brought a milestone that will shape the organization’s future. CPHS has officially been granted charitable status by the Canada Revenue Agency (CRA), a significant step that will create new opportunities for funding, partnerships and impact.
This milestone reflects years of effort from many people. CPHS extends sincere thanks to everyone who contributed time, care and persistence throughout this process.
With momentum from 2025 and charitable status now in place, CPHS looks ahead to 2026, focused on reaching more communities, supporting more educators and continuing to preserve and share Pride history across Canada.
Language has always shaped how Canadians see gender. For transgender and gender-diverse people, finding the right words has been an ongoing act of visibility and survival.
Before “transgender” entered everyday use, Canadian media and legal records often used medical or sensationalized terms. In the 1960s and 1970s, “transsexual” and “sex change” were the most common descriptors. These words were clinical and focused on physical transition rather than identity, yet they marked the beginning of national awareness. Early coverage, such as stories about Christine Jorgensen and later Canadian figures like Susan Gapka, brought gender variance into public view, though often through a narrow lens.
From “transsexual” to “transgender”
By the late 1980s, activists and community groups began promoting “transgender” as a more inclusive term. It reflected a broader understanding that not all gender-diverse people seek surgery or medical transition. The shift was about self-definition and autonomy over language.
In Canada, organizations such as Egale Canada and the Gender Identity Clinic at Toronto’s Centre for Addiction and Mental Health helped introduce and normalize the term. This coincided with an international move toward recognizing gender diversity as a social and human rights issue rather than a medical condition.
Media, policy, and the power of words
Canadian journalists initially struggled to adjust. Reports often relied on outdated terminology or misgendered individuals. In the 1990s and early 2000s, trans advocates began working with editors and educators to guide inclusive language use. The Canadian Press Stylebook, CBC’s internal language guide, and LGBTQ2+ media resources gradually adopted “transgender” as standard.
Policy reform also shaped how Canadians talked about gender. Beginning in 2012, provinces such as Ontario and Manitoba added “gender identity” and “gender expression” to human rights codes. When the federal government followed suit in 2017 through Bill C-16, legal definitions reinforced consistent terminology across institutions.
While “transgender” was gaining ground in policy and media, Indigenous peoples were revitalizing the term “Two-Spirit.” Emerging in the 1990s from within Indigenous LGBTQ+ communities, it described pre-colonial understandings of gender diversity and spiritual roles. Two-Spirit leaders reframed national dialogue by reminding Canadians that gender variance had always existed on this land.
Words that keep evolving
The vocabulary around gender in Canada continues to grow. Terms such as “non-binary,” “gender-fluid,” and “gender-diverse” reflect a movement toward inclusivity and personal agency. Each new word signals progress in the collective understanding of identity.
For historians and archivists, recording how these terms change over time is vital. Through projects like those led by the Canadian Pride Historical Society, documenting shifts in language helps trace how Canadians have come to understand gender diversity.
Every October, purple takes over. Landmarks across Canada are lit in violet hues. School halls fill with purple shirts and ribbons. For one day, a single colour links millions in a quiet act of solidarity. This year, Spirit Day falls on October 16.
In 2010, Brittany McMillan, a high school student in British Columbia, read about a series of LGBTQ+ teen suicides in the United States. She wanted to create a way for young people to see that they were supported and valued. Her idea was simple: ask people to wear purple on a single day to stand against bullying. She posted the idea on Tumblr, and it spread quickly. The colour was intentional. On the original rainbow flag designed by Gilbert Baker, purple represents spirit.
From resistance to belonging
Spirit Day grew fast. Schools, workplaces and community groups across Canada took part. Media networks adopted it. Landmarks like the CN Tower began to glow purple at night. The day became a symbol of resistance against bullying and discrimination. It also became a collective moment of visibility for LGBTQ+ youth and their allies. Over the years, Spirit Day evolved. What started as an act of mourning and protest shifted toward celebration, education and solidarity. Schools used the day to teach about inclusion and queer history. Pride organizations wove it into community programming. The message expanded from “you are not alone” to “you belong here.”
Each October, it now serves both as a reminder of the harm caused by homophobia and transphobia and as a celebration of the communities that continue to grow despite them.
The power of purple
Purple has carried that evolution. A simple T-shirt or ribbon has become more than a symbol. It’s a shared ritual that links generations. For older activists, it reflects decades of struggle and resilience. For young people, it can be their first visible act of allyship or identity. For everyone involved, it’s a way to hold history in the present. A shared moment that endures In Halifax, a teacher recalls the first time her students wore purple for Spirit Day. She didn’t know how many would participate. That morning, she walked into a classroom full of violet sweaters and homemade pins. Students had made posters about queer history and anti-bullying campaigns. “It felt like the room changed,” she said. “It wasn’t just about wearing a colour. It was about claiming space together.”
That shared moment is what keeps Spirit Day relevant 15 years after it began. Each purple light and piece of clothing honours the past while signalling commitment to the future. It shows young people they’re seen and valued. It reminds communities that belonging is built through action, not slogans.
This Spirit Day, remember that purple isn’t just fabric or light. It’s a living memory, carried forward each time someone chooses to wear it.
September 30 is the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. It’s a time to pause, reflect and learn about the legacy of Canada’s residential school system. For the Canadian Pride Historical Society, it’s also an opportunity to recognize a history that is often overlooked: the deep connection between Indigenous and 2SLGBTQIA+ communities through the role of Two-Spirit people.
The term Two-Spirit, created in 1990 at an Indigenous gathering in Winnipeg, is used by some First Nations, Métis and Inuit people to describe gender, sexual and spiritual identity in ways that existed long before colonization. It reflects the diversity of Indigenous cultures, many of which held space for individuals who embodied both masculine and feminine roles, or who carried unique responsibilities within their communities.
Colonial Disruption and Shared Erasure
These traditions were disrupted by colonialism. The residential school system, operated by churches and backed by the federal government, sought to erase Indigenous languages, ceremonies and identities. That suppression extended to the persecution of Two-Spirit people. What had once been sources of respect and belonging became targets of stigma and punishment.
This shared history of erasure is one point where Indigenous and queer experiences intersect. Just as queer Canadians have faced criminalization, invisibility and violence, Indigenous peoples have faced systemic attempts to suppress their cultures and ways of being. For Two-Spirit people, those burdens are doubled.
Resurgence and Solidarity
Today, many Two-Spirit leaders are reclaiming their place in their communities and in the broader 2SLGBTQIA+ movement. They are artists, activists, Elders and youth who speak to both resilience and resurgence. Their voices remind us that reconciliation isn’t only about acknowledging harm, but also about restoring traditions that colonialism tried to erase.
For non-Indigenous members of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community, solidarity begins with listening. Learning about the meaning of Two-Spirit identity and the diversity it represents is a step toward respect. Supporting Indigenous-led initiatives, attending events where Two-Spirit people are centred and making room for their stories within Pride spaces are concrete ways to act.
Relationships, Commitment, and Hope
Truth and reconciliation are not abstract ideas. They are lived through relationships; through the choices we make about who we uplift and how we remember the past. On this day, it’s important to honour survivors of residential schools and their families. It’s also important to recognize that Indigenous queer and trans people continue to carry histories that are both painful and powerful.
The Canadian Pride Historical Society is committed to preserving stories of 2SLGBTQIA+ Canadians, and that includes standing alongside Two-Spirit people whose histories are an integral part of this country. On September 30, we encourage everyone to wear orange, reflect on the truths of residential schools, and also learn more about the role of Two-Spirit people in Indigenous communities.
Reconciliation requires honesty, but it also requires hope. By acknowledging the intersections of our histories, we can work toward a future where Indigenous and 2SLGBTQIA+ voices are not just heard but celebrated.
In the winter of 1971, a small but determined group of activists in Ottawa stepped into the cold air outside Parliament Hill to demand a new vision for Canada. Known as the We Demand Rally, it was the country’s first large-scale demonstration for gay rights. While the crowd numbered fewer than 200, the event marked the beginning of a national conversation about equality for gay, bisexual, and lesbian Canadians, and what we now call the wider 2SLGBTQIA+ community.
The rally was not spontaneous. It was grounded in a carefully prepared 13-page brief sent to the federal government, outlining specific calls for reform. The demands ranged from ending discriminatory practices in immigration law to eliminating inequalities in the age of consent. Activists also pressed for changes in the way the military and civil service treated employees suspected of being homosexual. In short, the brief was a direct challenge to laws and policies that reinforced stigma and curtailed basic freedoms. On August 28 of that year, demonstrators carried those demands to the public square. Their message was simple but urgent: Canadians deserved the right to live openly, without fear of arrest, dismissal, or harassment. Many participants had faced social isolation, loss of employment, or rejection by their families. By gathering on Parliament Hill, they placed their lives and livelihoods on the line to show that discrimination was not an abstract legal matter but a lived reality. Although change did not arrive immediately, the rally is remembered today as a turning point. The demands highlighted the gap between Canada’s reputation as a fair society and the experiences of its queer citizens. The demonstration also provided a model for future activism. It showed that coordinated, public advocacy could capture media attention and push issues of sexuality and human rights onto the political agenda. Some of the reforms called for in 1971 took decades to achieve, and others continue to be debated. But the We Demand Rally gave voice to people who had been silenced in policy discussions. It reminded Canadians that progress is rarely granted without persistence. Many of the freedoms and protections enjoyed today – including workplace rights, recognition of same-sex relationships, and the ability to serve openly in the military – trace their roots back to that snowy day in Ottawa. For young Canadians learning this history, the rally stands as more than a lesson in politics. It illustrates how small acts of courage can ripple outward. The participants did not know whether their protest would succeed, yet their choice to gather helped spark a movement that grew in strength over the decades. Today, the We Demand Rally is recognized as a milestone in Canada’s human rights history. It is a reminder of the power of ordinary citizens to hold governments accountable and to insist on dignity and equality. Half a century later, the rally remains a touchstone for Pride celebrations and for ongoing struggles to make Canada a more inclusive country.
The choice of date for Women’s Equality Day commemorates the signing of the 19th amendment on August 26th, 1920, a landmark addition to the American constitution that prohibited federal and state governments from restricting the right to vote based on sex. While this was a massive achievement only made possible by the work of dedicated activists, it is crucial to note that only a small proportion of American women were subsequently able to vote—women of colour had to fight decades more in order to obtain the same right. New York Congresswoman Bella Abzug first introduced a resolution to recognize Women’s Equality Day in 1971, the year after the America-wide Women’s Strike for Equality, and the date was first formally celebrated two years later in 1973. Fifty-two years later, it remains an important remembrance of the first step to justice that was long-overdue.
The work of American suffragettes such as Susan B. Anthony is well known even outside her country, but the history of the Canadian women’s suffrage movement is no less rich, and no less important. The first victory in the struggle was won on January 27th, 1916, when Manitoban women—of British ancestry or citizenship, and who were at least 21 years old—gained the right to vote in provincial elections. This was a hard-earned win, preceded by efforts from groups such as the Manitoba Political Equality League, who had presented two petitions in support of women’s right to vote on December 23rd of the previous year. The petitions were signed by both men and women, and included almost forty thousand signatures. Other provinces quickly followed suit, with Saskatchewan enacting it’s own reform less than two months later, and Alberta a little over a month after that. BC, Ontario, and Nova Scotia followed in turn, and eventually the last province to provide this essential right was Québec, in 1940, with the last territory being the Northwest Territories in 1951. On a federal level, it was on May 24th, 1918 that women were formally allowed to vote in federal elections. World War 1, and the Wartime Elections and Military Voters acts, had permitted women in the armed forces and the female relatives of military officers to vote, but the 1918 act distributed the right far more broadly—although not comprehensively. If you’d like to learn more about the timeline of the fight for equal voting rights, the Canadian Encyclopedia has an excellent resource online, which can be found here.
It is critical to note that not all women were granted the same rights at the same time. Racialized women across Canada had to fight far longer and harder to secure the same rights as white, British women, particularly Asian and Indigenous communities. The passing of the national Dominion Elections Act in 1920 filled some of the gaps—it enfranchised those who had been disenfranchised during the Great War, such as those from countries Canada had been at war with— but crucially, stated that those disenfranchised due to race on a provincial level would remain as such. This included those of Chinese origin in Saskatchewan, and in BC, included those of Chinese, Japanese, South Asian, and Indigenous origin. These injustices would only begin to be rectified without exception in the 1940s, and Chinese and South Asian citizens—men and women both—were extended the right to vote both federally and provincially on the first day of 1947. Japanese-Canadians and Indigenous women would need to wait even longer still, until 1949 for Japanese-Canadians.
Indigenous women faced a still more arduous battle for their rights, complicated by the Indian Act. Over the 50s and 60s, province-by-province ‘Status Indians’ were granted the provincial vote, but the clause in the Indian Act that stated Indigenous women lost their ‘status’ if they married anyone without a ‘status’ meant that thousands of Indigenous Women remained disenfranchised and withheld from their right to vote. Organizations such as the Native Women’s Association of Canada worked tirelessly for years to rectify this injustice, and the UN Human Right’s Commission even declared that the loss of ‘status’ was tantamount to cultural interference. The dozens of years of hard work and tenacity finally came to bear fruit on June 17th, 1985, when Bill C-31 was passed, amending the Indian Act to remove the gender-based discrimination it contained in it’s provisions. 67 years after British Manitoban women gained their right to vote, the right had finally been distributed to almost all Canadians, regardless of race. Three years later in 1988, the very last gap was closed, and people with intellectual disabilities were able to vote for the first time. Canada had finally become a true democracy for all.
Voting inequalities, however, still exist today—often based on physical access to the vote. For instance, Nunavut women were able to vote starting in 1950, but in remote communities, ballot boxes were only installed in 1962, and as such all genders were denied the vote. Disabled people can also face difficulties getting to a voting centre, something that—although mail-in voting has been helpful—remains a pressing concern today. The vote is an essential part of any functioning democracy, and it is important that as we celebrate how far we’ve come, we recognize how far we still have to go.
Women’s Equality Day is a sobering reminder that a shocking amount of the rights and freedoms we claim today were won incredibly recently, sometimes even in living memory. As politics both here in Canada and around the world seem to grow ever more frightening, and the rights we are all entitled to become something considered to be up for debate, looking to and learning from the past only becomes more important. The perseverance and courage of those who fought tirelessly for every woman’s right to participate in democracy continues to serve as an inspiration to those fighting for every sort of justice, and on this day, we pay homage and thanks to their efforts.
In August 1973, something quietly remarkable happened across Canada. For the first time, LGBT communities in cities like Vancouver, Toronto and Montreal organized a coordinated week of events that would later be known as Canada’s first Pride Week.
It didn’t look like the large, colourful parades we often see today. There were no floats, no big corporate sponsors, and media coverage was limited. But for those who took part, it was a turning point.
At the time, it was still risky to be open about your sexual orientation or gender identity. Homosexuality had only been decriminalized in Canada four years earlier, and discrimination remained widespread. But the energy from the Stonewall uprising in New York in 1969 had reached Canadian cities. Activists, community members and allies began coming together, determined to be seen and heard.
Pride Week 1973 was spread across the country. In Toronto, hundreds gathered for a picnic on the Toronto Islands, an event that offered a rare chance for LGBT people to connect openly. Vancouver and Montreal held rallies and discussions, creating space for people to speak about human rights, social barriers and the need for legal protection.
The events that week weren’t just about celebration. They were about taking up space and making it clear that LGBT people were part of Canadian society, whether the public was ready to accept it or not.
Looking back, Pride Week 1973 might seem small by today’s standards, but its impact is hard to overstate. It was the first time Canadians across different cities came together to push for change in a public, visible way.
Since then, Pride events across Canada have grown in both size and visibility. But the roots of these celebrations go back to those early days, when speaking up could come with real risks.
At the Canadian Pride Historical Society, we believe it’s important to keep these stories alive. Not just to mark how far things have come, but to recognize the work that’s still needed to make sure everyone can live openly and safely, no matter who they are or who they love.
To learn more about how Pride started in Canada and the people who helped lead the way, visit our website: https://cphs.ca/.
