Member-only story
Gay and Trans Kids in French Canada Sound an Unexpected Global Alarm!
Help us preserve disappearing kindness; let me tell you a story about love and acceptance I once found in francophone Canada.
Once upon a time, a gay man who shall remain nameless (okay me), moved from Manhattan to live north of the border with his beloved new partner — in the land of ice, snow, pizza toute-garnie, viande fumée, tourtière, pâté chinois, and poutine. Don’t worry, if you don’t know all those foods, rest assured they translate to delicious (and high cholesterol) in French.
How we loved getting to know our new culture! And not just new foods.
My partner hailed from rural Australia, me originally from the conservative U.S. heartland, both of us used to dealing with the unfortunate fact that living out could be fraught. But when we moved into a working-class Montreal neighborhood — often with one family living on a single floor of a three or four-story row house — both of us were gobsmacked that our new neighbors and friends seemed sincerely delighted to welcome a gay couple.
One afternoon while we were unpacking, our doorbell rang.
I opened up to find a short, muscular man with a huge smile cracking his craggy red face. A tallish…
