Deputy Chief of police Brad Duncan being interviewed by reporter Joseph Couture at the “peace rally” in London, Ontario on Wednesday, October 7. Photo by Ben Benedict
By Joseph Couture (London, Ontario) Oct 16 | It may not exactly have been life in the fast lane here in my hometown of London, Ontario, but it hasn’t been nearly as dull as you might imagine.
Growing up here was hard. The town was white, middle-class, heterosexual, Christian and conservative. I was gay, poor, atheist, liberal and worst of all, neither secretive nor sorry about it.
People in this town went out of their way to make it tough for gays for as long as I can remember. In my twenties came a massive police campaign against the gay community under the ruse of a crack down on pornography. Everyone homosexual male in town lived in utter terror that the cops were going to break down the door at any minute and take them away.
Immediately on the heels of that came the giant squabble between the gay community and the mayor over her refusal to recognize gay pride. The fight was bitter and vitriolic. It divided the community like nothing I had seen before and created a poisonous environment that pitted friend against friend and neighbour against neighbour.
At that point, there was a massive exodus. It was clear we were unwelcome here and many people left, seeking refuge in bigger cities where they felt they fit in better.
It was quiet for many years after that, with those remaining keeping a low profile to avoid attracting attention to themselves. But it was clear to everyone—quiet didn’t mean safe.
That seemed to become clear once again last month when the bashings started. One man was attacked and beaten and had to jump out of a moving truck to keep from being killed. A couple was attacked two weeks later walking home from the bar and beaten because they were seen holding hands.
These were the incidents that made the local news and got people talking. What they said was that there were more beatings that went unreported because people were afraid of both the police and the publicity.
It seemed like once again, it was open season on us. Then came the change.
On a cold, gloomy autumn night last week, hundreds on Londoners, gay, straight, young, old, Christian, non-Christian, you name, came out to say no more.
What was perhaps most shocking was who else was there. Our new mayor, Anne Marie DeCicco-Best, who in her time in office has never attended or spoke at a gay pride event, turned up. Standing beside her was the Deputy Chief of police Brad Duncan.
They both took the podium to address the crowd and stated loudly and clearly that hate, intolerance and violence have no place in our city. What was perhaps more important than their words was the symbolic message that their presence sent to the community.
They stood up to say that they recognized the problems of the past and wanted to make things right for the future. It was a stunning moment.
Talking to people, I realize that an air of mistrust between the community and the authorities largely remains. That’s not a surprise. Neither change nor trust usually happens overnight. But at least change has begun.
It wasn’t expected, but it is most certainly welcome. It just goes to show that change is possible. It is a slow, tedious and laborious process. But as we have now seen, it can indeed happen. When it does, it makes it all the work worthwhile.
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