Category: Awareness

Feb1
Awareness

Long before rainbow crosswalks and Pride sponsorships, Black 2SLGBTQIA+ Canadians built something quieter and more enduring. They built chosen families.

These were not symbolic relationships. They were practical, emotional and often lifesaving. Friends shared housing, food, job leads and protection. Elders mentored youth navigating racism and homophobia at the same time. Parties, house gatherings and informal social spaces doubled as places of joy and refuge.

Chosen family emerged not because it was trendy but because it was necessary. For many Black 2SLGBTQIA+ Canadians, biological families, churches and institutions could not or would not offer safety. Community stepped in where systems failed.

Chosen family as historical infrastructure

From a historical perspective, chosen families functioned as infrastructure. They provided care in the absence of social services. They preserved culture when mainstream 2SLGBTQIA+ spaces were unwelcoming or outright hostile. They passed down knowledge about survival, style, language and resistance.

In cities like Toronto, Montreal and Halifax, Black 2SLGBTQIA+ communities created networks that operated largely outside formal recognition. These spaces were rarely documented in official archives. They did not always leave flyers, meeting minutes or photographs. Their work was relational and often intentionally private.

That invisibility matters. When history prioritizes institutions over relationships, entire forms of community labour disappear from the record.

What Pride remembers and what it overlooks

Canadian Pride history often centres milestones that are easy to document. Legal victories. Parades. Organizations with charters and boards. These moments matter. But they are not the whole story.

Chosen families challenge how we define progress. They remind us that liberation was not only pursued through visibility but through care. Not only through celebration but through consistency. Many Black 2SLGBTQIA+ Canadians did not experience Pride as a safe or welcoming space, even as movements advanced.

If these histories are absent from our collective memory, it is not because they were insignificant. It is because they were harder to categorize and easier to ignore.

What Black 2SLGBTQIA+ history can teach Pride today

As Canadian Pride movements reflect on inclusion and relevance, Black 2SLGBTQIA+ chosen families offer a lesson rooted in history. Pride was never just about being seen once a year. It was about who shows up the other 364 days.

Care-based models of community ask different questions. Who is resourced year-round. Who is protected when attention fades. Who is trusted to lead.

Black 2SLGBTQIA+ communities answered those questions long before corporate floats or official stages existed.

Remembering forward

Black History Month invites us not only to add stories to the archive but to rethink how history is told. Chosen family is not just a chapter from the past. It is a reminder that community is built through responsibility, not branding.

 

If chosen families once kept Black 2SLGBTQIA+ Canadians alive, they may still point us toward the Pride we need next.

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Awareness

Each year on Jan. 27, International Holocaust Remembrance Day invites reflection on the millions of people murdered under Nazi persecution. While the Holocaust is often discussed in broad terms, remembrance also requires attention to the groups whose stories were ignored or erased for decades. One of those stories is represented by the pink triangle.

During the Holocaust, people imprisoned in Nazi concentration camps were forced to wear coloured badges that identified the reason for their detention. Jewish prisoners were marked with yellow stars. Political prisoners wore red triangles. Men imprisoned for homosexuality were forced to wear a pink triangle.

Under Paragraph 175 of the German criminal code, homosexuality was criminalized. Gay men were monitored by police, arrested and sent to prisons and concentration camps. Historians estimate that tens of thousands were imprisoned. Many died because of forced labour, violence, medical abuse and starvation.

Within the camps, men marked with the pink triangle were often treated with particular cruelty. They were isolated from other prisoners and subjected to abuse by guards and fellow inmates. Survival rates for these prisoners were among the lowest in the camp system.

After the war

The injustice did not end with liberation. After the war, homosexuality remained illegal in Germany and other parts of Europe. Many survivors were not recognized as victims of Nazi persecution. Some were returned to prison to finish their sentences. Others were denied compensation and excluded from official remembrance. For decades, their experiences were largely absent from Holocaust education and memorials.

This absence matters. Holocaust remembrance is shaped not only by what is remembered but also by what is left out. The delayed recognition of pink triangle victims shows how prejudice continued long after the fall of the Nazi regime. It also highlights how memory can reflect the values of the societies preserving it.

Reclaiming the symbol

In the late 20th century, 2SLGBTQIA+ activists reclaimed the pink triangle as a symbol of resistance and remembrance. During the AIDS crisis, it became a sign of protest and solidarity. Over time, it evolved into a marker of resilience and survival. Today, it appears in museums, memorials and queer history projects around the world.

For historical organizations, this history is particularly significant. It connects Holocaust remembrance to broader struggles for recognition, safety and dignity. It also reminds us that 2SLGBTQIA+ history includes persecution and loss alongside progress and celebration.

 

That context matters when we talk about remembrance today. Remembering the pink triangle means acknowledging victims who were marginalized both during the Holocaust and long after it ended. Their stories were excluded from public memory for decades, not by accident but by choice. On International Holocaust Remembrance Day, taking time to remember these lives helps make the historical record more complete and more honest.

Image shows a hand with a rainbow heart imprinted onto it. The words below read: Against Bullying #SpiritDay
Awareness
Image shows a hand with a rainbow heart imprinted onto it. The words below read: Against Bullying #SpiritDay

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.

References

https://www.glaad.org/spiritday
https://www.gilbertbaker.com

Awareness

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.

#DYK Pride Week 1973 - image of several people holding up signs advocating for gay rights in Kitchener Waterloo.
Awareness

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/

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Awareness

This year, Non-Binary Awareness Week takes place from July 14 to 20, 2025. It is a time to highlight the experiences of non-binary people, challenge misconceptions, and encourage greater understanding across communities.

While the term non-binary has become more familiar in recent years, the experiences and identities of non-binary people are not new. Across cultures and throughout history, people have expressed gender in ways that go beyond the categories of male or female.

What does non-binary mean?

At its simplest, non-binary is a term for gender identities that do not fit strictly into the categories of man or woman. Some non-binary people may feel like a mix of both. Others may feel like neither. Some may identify as gender fluid, agender, bigender or in other ways that reflect their own experiences.

It is important to remember that there is no one way to be non-binary. Just as gender expression varies among men and women, the same is true for non-binary individuals. How someone looks, dresses or expresses themselves does not define their identity.

Why awareness matters

Non-binary people continue to face barriers, including misunderstanding, lack of legal recognition, discrimination and violence. Research and community reports show that many non-binary individuals feel pressure to fit into the binary for safety or acceptance, which can affect mental health and well-being.

Awareness weeks like this one create space for conversation, education and change. They remind us that gender diversity has always existed, and that building inclusive communities means respecting all gender identities.

A part of Canadian history and future

Here in Canada, non-binary people have always been part of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community and the broader social fabric. Many Indigenous cultures have long recognized gender-diverse individuals, including those who identify as Two-Spirit. This term is used by some Indigenous people to reflect a sacred and historical understanding of gender beyond the Western binary.

In recent years, Canada has made progress in recognizing non-binary identities, such as offering gender-neutral markers on identification documents in some provinces and territories. But there is still work to do to ensure that non-binary Canadians have access to safety, healthcare, legal rights and respect.

How can you show support

  • Listen to and amplify non-binary voices
  • Respect people’s names and pronouns
  • Learn about the experiences of non-binary individuals
  • Advocate for inclusive policies and spaces

At the Canadian Pride Historical Society, we believe understanding the past helps build a more inclusive future. Non-Binary Awareness Week is a reminder to listen, learn and support the non-binary community, not just during this week, but as part of how we show respect for one another every day.

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Awareness

You might have seen June 26 called “LGBT Equality Day” in some articles or social posts and there’s a reason for that. On June 26, 2015, the U.S. Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage across the United States. That ruling (Obergefell v. Hodges) was a major moment in global LGBTQ+ history, and it’s often recognized as a symbolic date for marriage equality. 

But here in Canada, we have our own milestone worth celebrating. 

On July 20, 2005, Canada became the fourth country in the world – and the first outside Europe – to legalize same-sex marriage nationwide. That’s the day our federal Civil Marriage Act received Royal Assent, confirming that same-sex couples across the country had the right to marry, regardless of province or territory. 

That’s why many Canadian advocates observe July 20 as LGBT Equality Day – a moment to reflect on the progress made, the people who led the way, and the work still ahead. 

Getting to that point took decades. In 1969, Canada decriminalized same-sex activity. Through the 1980s and ’90s, activists pushed for anti-discrimination laws, partner recognition, and equal access to benefits. A turning point came in 1995 when the Supreme Court of Canada ruled in Egan v. Canada that sexual orientation was protected under the Charter. By the early 2000s, several provinces had already legalized same-sex marriage through court rulings, paving the way for the federal law. 

July 20 isn’t just about marriage. It marks a broader affirmation of dignity, inclusion, and human rights. But as we know, the fight for equality didn’t end there. Many 2SLGBTQIA+ Canadians, especially trans, racialized, Indigenous, and disabled individuals, continue to face barriers in healthcare, housing, employment, and safety. 

That’s why this day still matters. It reminds us that progress is possible and that preserving and learning from our history helps ensure we don’t leave anyone behind. 

At the Canadian Pride Historical Society, we’re committed to sharing these stories, uplifting the voices that helped shape them, and protecting Canada’s rich and complex 2SLGBTQIA+ history. 

This July 20, take a moment to celebrate Canada’s commitment to equality and consider how we can keep building on it.

March 18 Post 1 – Copy
Awareness

On May 30th this year, we commemorate the forty-fourth anniversary of the Pisces Bathhouse Raid, a planned operation by Edmonton’s legal system to arrest Gay men in what was previously a safe space to gather and connect.  The legacy of the raids has had an enduring and long-lasting effect on Edmonton’s 2SLGBTQIA+ community, and we take this day to remember the events and recognize not only how far we’ve come since, but also how far we still have to go. 

Bathhouses have been gathering spaces for 2SLGBTQIA+ Men and masculine-presenting individuals for centuries, with the modern iteration coming into being around the end of the 19th century.  They were used as safe places to meet for companionship of varying forms and were often popular cruising destinations for those who frequented them.  They vary in clientele, expectations of anonymity, services offered, and discretion, but were by and large consistent pillars of the communities they were located within.  Bathhouses could be found in hundreds—if not thousands—of major cities across the globe, and Edmonton, Alberta was no different. 

The Pisces Health Spa, opened in 1978, was by no means the first bathhouse established in the city, but it rapidly became known as the best.  This was in no small part due to the meticulous cleanliness standards kept by manager John Kerr, a choreographer who worked with the drag queens of the Flashback Follies.  This commitment to hygiene was a large part of the exponential growth of the bathhouse’s clientele—at its peak, it counted over two thousand paying members and was by all accounts a beloved institution of the Edmonton 2SLGBTQIA+ community. 

Bathhouses were a refuge in a hostile world, but by no means did that mean the world was ignorant of their existence, and it is unsurprising that in the social climate of the day, raids on bathhouses by law enforcement were recorded as early as the 1900s.  Those unfortunate enough to be caught in these operations could and did face violence, public outings, and legal repercussions, and the spectre of possibility loomed large over everyone who entered what should have been a safe space. 

Canadian law enforcement had been conducting raids on bathhouses since 1964, but it was in February of 1981 that “Operation Soap”—the raid of four bathhouses on the same night—would lead to the mass arrest of three hundred and six people under laws regarding ‘bawdy houses.’  This disregarded the fact that not only had Canada decriminalized homosexuality in 1969, but also that other patrons of so-called ‘bawdy houses,’ such as straight men hiring women as prostitutes, faced far less scrutiny or repercussions under the same laws. 

Operation Soap, though, was just the beginning.  Beginning in February, nine Edmonton detectives began acting in key roles as part of a massive surveillance endeavour.  With other personnel hidden in a neighbouring building to track the comings and goings of the patrons, the nine detectives went into the bathhouse itself, posing as clientele, and using that cover to, among other things, take photos of patrons engaged in intimate activities.  It is currently understood that all of this was sparked by a complaint from Fred Griffiths, a gay man who had never been inside the Pisces Health Spa but was nonetheless ‘disgusted’ about what happened inside its walls.  These attitudes about—among other things—anonymous sex and establishments based around sex were not altogether uncommon among other members of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community and are still very much present today.

On May 30th, 1981, the Edmonton police stormed into the Pisces Health Spa, barging into private rooms and informing everyone they found that they were arrested for being ‘found-ins’ at a bawdy house.  The men were not allowed to put on clothes until they had been photographed in whatever state the police had arrested them in, then photographed again once clothed, holding up signs stating their names and other information.  This all happened as two crown prosecutors looked on—an extreme rarity at any such raid.  Fifty-six ‘found-ins’ were eventually herded in vans and police cruisers down to the courthouse and were denied any legal counsel.  At the same time, the owners of the Pisces Health Spa—Dr. Henri Toupin and Eric Stein—and John Kerr were all arrested as well. 

The media went into a frenzy almost immediately.  The names of those arrested were shown on CFRN’s (now CTV) six o’clock news, effectively outing them in an incredibly hostile time.  The two thousand-strong clientele list which had been seized in the raid, meanwhile, featured prominently and ominously in the coverage.  It was other members of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community, notably the Gay Alliance Towards Equality, who stepped up to offer support, advice, and information to those caught up in the raid.  Toupin, Stein, and Kerr all pleaded guilty to their charges, and unfortunately, once the first ‘found-in’ was deemed guilty in court, more soon followed.  In the end, most of those arrested pleaded guilty in turn. 

Yet, Edmonton’s 2SLGBTQIA+ community did not take this lying down.  Sick of trying to hide who they were in hopes the legal system and the court of public opinion would overlook them, they began to plot more public acts of protest, such as a demonstration at city hall and the entering of the S.S. Pisces 2, crowned with a sail in the shape of a pink triangle, to the annual Klondike Days Sourdough Raft Race.  The frustration galvanized a community which many felt had grown complacent to mistreatment from law enforcement and the public at large, and it would echo throughout the years—notably, Edmonton’s first Pride events, in the theme “Gay Pride Through Unity,” were held the following year in 1982.  Twelve years after the raids, Mayor Jan Reimer officially instituted Gay and Lesbian Pride Day, and the Edmonton Police Service released a formal statement of apology in 2021, on the fortieth anniversary of the raids.  While a true outrage, the Pisces Bathhouse Raids are always remembered as a turning point in the fight for 2SLGBTQIA+ rights not only in Edmonton, but all of Canada. 

 For a more in-depth look at the Pisces Health Spa and the raids of that fateful day, you might be interested in an article by the Edmonton City as Museum Project, posted a little before the 40th anniversary of the raids.  A link can be found here. 

The Pisces Bathhouse Raids were a critical turning point in the story of the Canadian fight for 2SLGBTQIA+ rights, and it’s a true shame they are not more widely known.  It is stories like these—and the need to share them with Canada—that is the CPHS’s most cherished goal.  On this day, we must remember to be grateful to those who fought and sacrificed for the freedoms and joy we now experience and also remember that the fight is not yet over.   

Pansexual & Panromantic visibility day, @ksu_lgbtq
Awareness

According to the Canadian government, approximately four percent of the Canadian population is part of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community. A portion of this population identifies as panromantic or pansexual. Considering panromantic and pansexual identities have not always received the same visibility or understanding as other orientations in the community, it is important to both acknowledge and celebrate those who are panromantic and pansexual. That’s why May 24 is devoted each year to celebrating these communities as part of Panromantic and Pansexual Visibility and Awareness Day. 

For those unfamiliar with panromanticism, a panromantic orientation is one in which an individual is attracted to people of any gender romantically. More specifically, this might mean a person could be emotionally attracted to someone who identifies as male, female, gender nonbinary, or as trans. Panromantic individuals might not experience physical attraction to other people and instead often focus on emotional attractions to others regardless of gender. The term panromantic is often used by those on the asexual spectrum. 

Pansexual orientation is defined as a sexual attraction to people of any gender and is not to be confused with bisexuality. Pansexual individuals can be sexually attracted to those with any gender identity, such as trans, gender nonbinary, male, or female. Pansexual people can be attracted to people of all genders, both romantically and sexually. A few famous pansexual celebrities include Cara Delevingne, Miley Cyrus, Demi Lovato, and Brendon Urie. 

Panromantic and Pansexual Visibility and Awareness Day is critical to helping increase understanding regarding panromantic and pansexual communities and to ensuring that these communities do not face erasure, stigmatization, or harmful stereotypes and prejudice. Therefore, help celebrate the day by educating your friends, family, and community and serving as an ally and advocating to promote inclusion and acceptance of panromantic and pansexual people.

 

 

Illustration of Harvey Milk with rainbow flag behind him
Awareness

May 22nd was Harvey Milk’s birthday, and every year we mark that occasion by taking time to remember him.  Harvey Milk was a tireless fighter and advocate for 2SLGBTQIA+ rights in a time when Stonewall was still a fresh memory, and the results of his work still echo throughout the continuing fight for equal rights.  Milk would have turned ninety-five this year were it not for his murder, and we must continue to honour his memory for all the years to come. 

Born to a Jewish family in Woodmere, New York, in 1930, Milk by all accounts lived a very traditional life in his early years.  He joined the US Navy during the Korean War, though he was forced to accept an ‘other than honourable’ discharge in 1955, rather than a court-martial due to his identity.  He worked in insurance for a while, and was a rather staunch conservative, uncomfortable with being Gay.  It was working as an associate director with Tom O’Horgan’s theatre company—and spending time with the cast of ‘flower children,’ who we’d call hippies today—that caused his viewpoint to dramatically shift. 

Milk moved to San Francisco in the early 1970s and opened a camera shop with his partner (and future campaign manager) Scott Smith on Castro Street.  San Francisco had attracted a sizeable 2SLGBTQIA+ population ever since the end of World War II, when many Gay men who had been expelled from the military elected to stay there instead of returning to their unaccepting hometowns.  This burgeoning community attracted more Gay men in turn, and by 1969, the Kinsey Institute considered San Francisco to have the most 2SLGBTQIA+ people per capita of any major American city. 

Castro Street was the centre of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community in San Francisco, and one cannot talk about Harvey Milk’s story without also talking about the Castro.  Originally an ethnically mixed working-class neighbourhood, low prices caused by bigoted families fleeing the increased diversity of the area made it accessible to 2SLGBTQIA+ folks looking to settle down.  San Francisco, however, was by no means any more tolerant than other cities.  Oral sex was still illegal, and the current mayor, Alito, was aggressive in targeting public parks, where Gay men would meet up.  In 1971, 2800 men were arrested for ‘public sex,’ a monumental difference from the 63 arrests made in New York.   Milk would become more and more political over the years; friends remember having to prevent him from kicking the television during the broadcast of Attorney General John N. Mitchell’s continuous “I don’t recall” answers during the Watergate hearings.  Eventually, Milk’s disdain for the way things were going reached its limit, and he decided on a campaign for city supervisor.  Later, while reflecting on that decision, he would say, “I finally reached the point where I knew I had to become involved or shut up.” 

His initial reception from those established in Gay politics was less than warm, but he quickly garnered support from some owners of Gay bars who weren’t pleased with what they saw as a ‘timid’ approach to police raids from those same established figures.  He lost his first few elections, although his skill at politics quickly became evident.  Despite his inexperience, he came in 10th out of 32 candidates during the 1973 municipal election, and it’s been said that if districts had been allowed to elect their supervisors, he would have won.  Between his unsuccessful campaigns—including one for the California State Assembly—Milk worked to build coalitions at a smaller level as well.  He was one of the founders of the Castro Village Association to support 2SLGBTQIA+ businesses and organized the Castro Street Fair in 1974 to draw more customers to the area, an event that is still an annual occasion to this day. 

When the 1977 election came about, Milk had become an extremely well-known figure in not only the 2SLGBTQIA+ or the Castro communities, but across all of San Francisco—the San Francisco Chronicle even endorsed him for supervisor.  He would end up winning by 30% in that election.  Milk swept into City Hall on a massive wave of support, and he wasn’t the only newly elected official to be a newcomer.  Sworn in alongside Milk were Carol Ruth Silver, a single mother; Gordon Lau, a Chinese American; and Ella Hill Hutch, an African American woman.  Milk’s first act of his tenure was to sponsor a bill that would outlaw discrimination based on sexual orientation, which he called “the most stringent gay rights law in the country.”  It was clear to all how enthusiastic and driven Milk was as a politician, and the causes he championed were extremely varied, from dealing with a dog excrement problem plaguing the city streets to calling for more affordable childcare and free public transport.  Milk had begun to receive death threats after his run for the State Assembly, but he paid them no heed.  “If a bullet should enter my brain,” he said, “let that bullet destroy every closet door.” 

Tragically, we will never know just how much more progress Milk would have made.  On November 27th, 1978, Milk and San Francisco mayor George Moscone were assassinated by former city supervisor Dan White, who was the only vote in opposition to Milk’s 2SLGBTQIA+ rights bill that had passed earlier that year despite his claim he supported ‘the rights of all people, including gays.”  White had resigned from his position over a salary dispute but had soon after attempted to renege on his resignation.  Moscone had denied that request at first, but eventually set up a meeting with White, where he was then killed.  White killed Milk directly following his first murder, widely agreed to be an act of revenge over a perceived ‘betrayal.’ 

San Francisco’s 2SLGBTQIA+ community went into mourning.  That same day, twenty-five to forty thousand people spontaneously formed a candlelit march from Castro Street to City Hall.  All flags in California were flown at half-staff, and President Jimmy Carter expressed his condolences.  When White was found not guilty by a jury that included no 2SLGBTQIA+ folks or ethnic minorities, riots engulfed the city for several hours. 

It is impossible to detail all the ways Harvey Milk made an impact both during and after his life in a single blog post.  One undeniable thing, however, is that his courage in being open with his identity in such a hostile time did, in the end, fulfil his wish and destroy the ‘closet doors’ of many.  His nephew, Stuart Milk, who is also Gay, would eventually start the Harvey Milk Foundation, which works to advance equality all over the world—and was the driving force for the establishment of Harvey Milk Day, which was signed into law by California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger in 2009. 

Harvey Milk’s life was extremely rich, and there is no way a single post could describe everything he championed, all the forces who opposed him, and the countless social and political forces that contributed to his story and impact.  If you are interested to learn more about him and his work, there are many well-researched and detailed sources online you can learn from, and it would be very worth your time.  The decision was made when writing this article to focus on Milk’s life, rather than his famous and often sensationalized death and its aftermath, because it is his life that truly holds the most interest, and that is what Harvey Milk Day is all about.   Harvey Milk was a pioneer for 2SLGBTQIA+ rights in an incredibly hostile era, and he paved the way for countless activists and the politically minded blazing their path towards progress.  He was a true trailblazer of 2SLGBTQIA+ politics, and we must always remember to honour his legacy. 

“I cannot prevent anyone from getting angry, or mad, or frustrated. I can only hope that they’ll turn that anger and frustration and madness into something positive, so that two, three, four, five hundred will step forward, so the gay doctors will come out, the gay lawyers, the gay judges, gay bankers, gay architects … I hope that every professional gay will say ‘enough’, come forward and tell everybody, wear a sign, let the world know. Maybe that will help.”  -Harvey Milk.