Huge Toronto crowd celebrates Canada’s largest Pride parade

Glamorous glitter, dazzling drag queens and float after fabulous float — all were there, and more, as thousands of rainbow-clad spectators gleefully flooded downtown Toronto streets on a scorching summer Sunday to show their pride.

Canada’s biggest Pride parade, and one of the largest in North America, was the capstone event of the month-long Toronto festival and became one big street party.

More than 260 groups marched in the five-hour procession down Yonge Street that boasted thousands of spectators, participants and marchers — including mayoral candidates in Monday’s election as well as federal Finance Minister Chrystia Freeland and federal NDP Leader Jagmeet Singh

For many, it was especially critical to show up and celebrate this year.

“The way that society is changing, the way the climate is changing — this stuff is more important than ever,” said Lisa DelCol, as she stood in a staging area on Bloor Street waiting to march with the Toronto Pflag and holding a sign that read: “I love my ENBY (non-binary) kid.”

This year’s Pride festivities took place against the backdrop of homophobic and transphobic incidents and hateful rhetoric, globally and close to home. Efforts to claw back LGBTQ inclusion locally included a crowd of far-right protesters congregating outside a Toronto Public Library branch in April to stop a drag story time event, and, in June, the York Catholic District School Board voting against flying the Pride flag at its head office because it didn’t “align with (their) Catholic values.”

A few days later, during a walkout protesting the board’s decision, LGBTQ students and allies at some schools faced harassment, hate speech and violence.

Rising concerns about hate translated into increased security measures for this year’s parade: policing costs more than doubled over last year and insurance costs rose to $300,000 from $67,000 in 2022, Pride Toronto said.

For DelCol, whose child came out as non-binary in 2015 when DelCol “knew nothing about what it meant to be non-binary,” showing up at Pride is as much about visibility for kids as it is for the parents. With Pflag, DelCol aims to support parents so they can support their kids — something that’s become ever more challenging with mounting misinformation and disinformation, said DelCol, who gives education workshops.

DelCol stresses that, while parents — or anyone — may not fully understand what it means when a child comes out as non-binary, “you don’t have to understand to respect.”

Hearty cheers erupted as paradegoers spotted Toronto Pflag’s signs, including: “Labels are for canned soup,” and “I love my gay kid!” Tristan Coolman, president of Pflag York Region, hoisted a sign that said: “Hey York Catholic … prepare for the second coming!”

At the corner of Carlton and Yonge Streets, homophobic sentiments droned on from the mic of a religious speaker, struggling to be heard over the thumping bass of passing floats.

Spotting the irony, two shirtless men clad in booty shorts stopped to kiss right in front of the man’s station. Jayla B., a high school student who declined to give her full last name, confronted the preacher, calling into question what all counts as “sin.” Her friends trailed close behind, yelling words of encouragement.

“Why are you here, out of all places, doing that?” she said. “Look at how many of us are here.”

While it disappointed her to hear that kind of rhetoric, Jayla said it couldn’t ruin the excitement of her very first Pride parade. “To see so many people come here because we support each other, it brings warmth to my soul.”

For Alotta Draama, a drag queen with lustrous lavender hair marching in the parade with Guardians of the Children, recent anti-LGBTQ hate has only strengthened a resolve to celebrate at Pride. As a teacher at a GTA school — one that boasts a rainbow club and this year held an assembly to raise the Pride flag — it’s clear recent hate simply disenfranchises kids.

“The roll back, if you will, has been about choosing to make decisions for children when they are ready to make their own,” Draama said.

Ellie, 12, wanted to be part of a “really beautiful celebration” and was marching as part of the Young Activists group with the Toronto-based Nonsensical Society for Kids. The group includes kids that are queer or want to be the best possible allies, said Kelsey Whyte, one of the founders.

“We really want to have an open space for the kids to be themselves. I don’t feel like people understand that kids can be queer,” Whyte said, adding that it was critical to be visible at Pride this year given recent events.

Visibility, a key factor at Pride, could be seen in the bright pink shirts of about 300 volunteers who worked along the parade’s route that started on Bloor and Streets, and ended at Dundas Street West just north of Nathan Phillips Square where the festivities continued through the evening with music and a beer garden.

Freya Selander, volunteer manager for Pride Toronto, said seeing the volunteer corps out in their bright tops is heartening against the backdrop of anti-LGBTQ sentiment.

“There are literally hundreds of people who are giving up their time, their energy, their hours of sleep … to make sure that something like this happens,” Selander said. “I find it really hopeful. I find it really inspiring.”

Visibility on the small screen was also represented at the parade: Amrit Kaur, a Markham-born actress who stars in the HBO show “The Sex Life of College Girls,” was also in attendance. The show has been widely praised for its positive LGBTQ representation.

Kaur, who is part of the LGBTQ community, came to the parade with her high school drama teacher turned publicist, who she said was a “positive queer icon” in her life.

“I wasn’t out as a high school kid,” she said. “I went to Bur Oak Secondary School, which was very conservative at the time.” Kaur said she is happy for students today who have the support to come out and talk about their sexuality.

Some felt this year’s Pride parade was as important as in any other year, it’s just “this year we are hearing more noise,” said Jamea Zuberi, a vice-principal at Market Lane Junior and Senior Public School who was leading a packed Toronto District School Board float.

To Zuberi, “a proud, out, queer person,” the barriers faced by the LGBTQ community have always been there. So, like every year, Zuberi and her colleagues have “put our bodies on the line” to break down those barriers.

“We are here because this also a place of healing, a place of joy,” Zuberi said.

Wendy Gillis is a Toronto-based reporter covering crime and policing for the Star. Reach her by email at wgillis@thestar.ca or follow her on Twitter: @wendygillis

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