​Girls and women, boys and men, come in all shapes, sizes and presentations. Not conforming to society’s gendered expectations of how you should look, talk and behave does not mean you “should be” the opposite sex.

Tales of Joy

People are sometimes surprised to learn that I follow accounts on social media of some trans identifying individuals, or that there are people close to me who identify as trans. I find it odd that in some people’s minds, asking critical questions or sharing factual information that may challenge their belief system is somehow equal to committing “literal violence” towards trans folks. It’s as though they can't wrap their heads around the possibility that someone could both love and support trans identifying folks AND ALSO raise concerns about the impacts of gender ideology on women and children. Can these not co-exist?

 And so, in summary, I feel compelled to share two stories of “trans joy”:

TRUE LOVE & FRIENDSHIP

The first, about a musical colleague, someone I used to play in a band with: Over the past year, I have watched this individual fall in love with a trans person. Their trans partner (now fiancé) has come out to various concerts to support my colleague’s musical endeavors, and I don't know them well, but I have admired their leggings and other cool outfits, and their confidence in wearing said outfits regardless of what other people may say or think. But especially I admire this couple’s love for one another. In a world where it’s hard to stand out for various reasons, they have found one another, and are very clearly in love. I don't need to personally understand their love to appreciate that the smiles on their faces when they are together are infectious.

This summer, they are getting married. I wish them a long and happy marriage, and much joy!

PERSONAL REBIRTH

The second tale of joy is about a stranger who has become a friend through glamping on the property I co-own in PEI over the past several years.

I remember the dark green polish on his toenails the first time my friend came to stay with us. An introvert, he mostly kept to himself, but was appreciative of a safe place where he could wear his nailpolish and enjoy the solitude of nature. The space we'd created on our property provided my friend with an opportunity to get away for a few days and just be.

Over the subsequent years, he began to experiment more with his “female side”, and when I asked his preferred name, he shared the female one he’d been using, and invited me to use that or his given name. I hyphenated the two, and although s/he primarily goes by her female name now, it will always be the hyphen for me in my mind, because I “knew him when…”

After a few years of social transition and medical care, my friend has decided to fully transition. Her friends recently threw her a “vagina shower” – my friend shared some photos with me, and it looked like a pretty awesome celebration!!

The next time I see her, my friend will have undergone bottom surgery as well. I don’t understand it, but I don't need to understand it to be happy for them and their support network, and I genuinely wish them all the joy they hope for with this surgery, and into the future.

Summary

Not wanting humans with a male advantage on women’s sports teams or intact males in women’s prisons, and not supporting children having life altering medical intervention in an already gender stereotyped world that is stacked against them doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate when transitioning and gender affirming care might make an adult who is suffering, has suffered for a long time, happy.

So, am I a transphobe? That’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself after reading my three blog posts and learning a little more about who I am as a whole person. I hope these three essays have given you some of that insight.

​Happy Pride!

Another example of important and necessary exclusion can be found in the French language school system in Canada. In order to be considered for employment there, you must be francophone. If you are not, you are excluded from teaching in that jurisdiction. The reason for this is that the whole point of that school system is to preserve French language and culture. Hiring teachers who are not francophone, or who just speak a little French, would completely defeat the purpose.

A final example of “good” exclusion, again from within the education work, is the intentional exclusion of known pedophiles from the certified teaching and school support population. When you apply to work for a school board, whether as a classroom teacher, early childhood educator, or some other student and school support role, you have to have a criminal record check. (And in most jurisdictions across the country, this has to be updated annually.) And guess what? If you are a convicted child sex offender, you don’t get hired. YOU GET EXCLUDED!!! 

Despite the efforts of some folks within the LGBTQ+ community to expand the umbrella to include softer language of “minor attracted persons” or MAPs, most people still agree that pedophiles should not be celebrated as a special identity, and have no problem excluding them from most workplaces, particularly those that focus on children.

Again, an example of when exclusion is good and necessary, and probably not super controversial in most circles.

Where exclusion seems to take a sharp left turn is when it comes to women.

Despite earning hard-won sex based rights over the past hundred years or so, it has suddenly become “controversial” to suggest that transwomen, i.e. trans-identifying men, ie biological, intact men who self identify as women and may or may not have taken some steps towards medicalizing said identity (such as having facial feminization surgery, or taking hormones, or some such action) do not belong in women’s prisons, on women’s sports teams or in women’s shelters. 

Although we have documented evidence, for example, of women in sex-segregated prisons becoming impregnated by convicted male sex offenders to claim to be – and are therefore housed with – the female inmate population, to suggest that these trans-identifying men should not be there is apparently “transphobic”. 

In the inaugural issue of the lesbian magazine I recently published, a woman from the UK shared her experiences seeking sex-based support as a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of men. The women’s sexual abuse survivor services was unable to guarantee her a female counsellor because “we don’t discriminate against transwomen”.  Somehow when it comes to the importance of lived experience, apparently the lived experience of adult human females takes a back seat to the feelings of men in a dress.

And if you’re interested the problem of men in women’s sports, check out hecheated.org for some concrete stats and horror stories on that topic. 

My own introduction to this phenomenon was when I was going through a particularly rough patch with my wife (then my girlfriend), and – mainly out of curiosity – went on a lesbian dating app, “just to see”. What I saw, shockingly, was an overwhelmingly male group of users, who identified as “lesbian”!

Confused and ignorant at the time, I naïvely reported these men to the app’s administrator, thinking that they had somehow inadvertently “slipped by” and infiltrated the dating site. 

Silly, silly me.

I received rather a chastising message from the admin, explaining to me as though I were a hostile bigot, that “transwomen are women”, and that if they identify as lesbian, then of course we should welcome them with open arms. (Mouths?! Legs?!)

During the pandemic, a culture of identity politics came into vogue. It’s been deemed inclusive by some, but problematic by others. Sometime around 2021, I began to question my undying commitment to the gender ideology movement, and since that time, I have been called a transphobe and a TERF, usually by folks who know me only superficially, if at all.
​
For some time now, I’ve been meaning to address the issue head on, but then life got in the way. This year, however, I decided to take a break from my generally politics-free profile on Facebook and instead leverage Pride month to post a few longer posts about my experiences as a gender non-conforming woman. In tandem with that, I am also finally getting around to finishing my blog posts about the topic of identity politics and in particular, the gender ideology movement and its impact on me as a lesbian. I hope you enjoy these posts.

Those of you who follow me on IG will know that in recent years, I have begun posting (or rather, reposting) posts about what some might loosely call “trans issues” on my Instagram stories. In sharp contrast to the daily life photos and nature images I typically share in my main feed, these more politically charged reposts fall primarily into two categories: Posts concerning the impact of the gender ideology movement on young people, and posts about the intrusion of men in women’s spaces.

As a result of these posts, I have faced criticism by some individuals and institutions, largely from those who are unfamiliar with my long-standing work as an advocate for social justice, equity and inclusion.
My intent in these three blog posts is to clarify my position, and to encourage critical thinking around gender/sex and other more generally important issues. I welcome lively debate and respectful sharing of broad perspectives, however, I will not tolerate hateful or revenge-motivated comments.
​
Also, this one’s a lot of writing, and few photos. Fair warning.

​Vocabulary: A Primer

Since language matters and words are the building blocks of our conversations and ideas, let’s begin with a primer of some vocabulary related to LGBTQ+ issues.

It continues to shock me in this day and age with the availability of the internet, how few terms many people know and understand. However, it also annoys and frustrates me when those deeply emerged in the work refuse to support those still learning. Yes, fellow rainbow community, it IS our job to educate answer seekers… or at least, share our perspective with those  brave enough to ask us about it.

So, for those of you still new to the conversation, below are a few basic definitions.

Sex – your biological sex, i.e. male (XX) or female (XY)*. Sex is based on a series of physical traits largely organized around the intention** of procreation. Male bodies are small gamete producers and female bodies produce large gametes.

• (* There are some variations to this – see “Intersex” below)
  
• ( ** I use the word “intention” because that is their intended biological purpose from a design perspective, however, not all females can and do bear children.)
  

Gender – too often conflated with sex, gender refers to the identify that comes with the set of societally imposed “norms” aligning with each of the two sexes. Gender comprises things like clothing, haircuts, hobbies, behaviour, etc. Folks may behave, look and act the way they are “supposed to” according to their sex, or not. Or a little of both. (The “little of both” is sometimes referred to as being “Gender Non-Binary”, or ENBY, especially by younger people within the queer community.)

Gender dysphoria – when someone feels at odds between their body or perceived gender and how they feel “inside”, they may suffer gender dysphoria, sometimes also referred to as gender or body dysmorphia.

Gender non-conforming (GNC) – when girls or boys, or adult men or women, do not dress, speak or behave in a way that is expected of them based on their sex, they are gender non-conforming.

Intersex – It is rare but possible for humans to be born with an additional X or Y, for example, those born with Klinefelter syndrome (XXY females), Swyer syndrome and other differences of sex development (DSDs) in which males or females may have some physical traits of the opposite sex. DSD is a medical term, and some individuals with a DSD may refer to themselves as “Intersex”.

Gay – Shorthand for homosexual, i.e. boys who like boys in “that way”, or girls who like girls.

Lesbian – The female form of gay. (Some lesbians just refer to themselves as gay.) Adult human female who is attracted to other adult human females. 

Bisexual - being attracted to both sexes.

Queer – an umbrella term for anyone not “straight” or heterosexual. Initially used as a slur, the term “queer” was reclaimed by many as a proud moniker of being just a little bit outside the norm. Nowadays, many self-identify as queer without a specific sub label; it has become a bit of a catch all, though also a signifier to those of us critical of the movement that one best not question or rock the boat in any way with the person who so identifies, as they tend not to be open to any sort of critique.

Transwoman – A man who self identifies as a woman. Sometimes referred to as trans-identified males (TIMs), some transwomen choose to undergo “bottom surgery” to remove and/or reconstruct their male genitalia, have facial feminization surgery, take female hormones, etc.

Transman – A woman who identifies as a man. Some transmen choose to cut off their breasts (known as “top surgery” or a mastectomy), take male hormones to lower their voices and help with visual identifiers such as hair growth, etc.

Deadname – Many trans people choose a different name for themselves when they transition. For example, David may become Davina, or they may choose a more gender neutral name. Their “deadname” is the name they were given at birth or adoption.

Detransitioners – Formerly trans-identified individuals who have embarked on a journey to physically detransition and return to their actual sex. I.e. a woman who may have thought she was “male” and had an mastectomy and started male hormones now recognizes that she is in fact a woman and attempts to return to living as a woman. She stops taking male hormones, etc.)

Autogynephilic – sometimes called AGP for short, this term refers to men who feel arousal at the thought of themselves as women. (Think “cross dressers” from previous decades.) Some have strong and detailed rape fantasies in which they are the woman.

TERF – “Trans-exclusionary radical feminist”, the term TERF is used as a slur, usually by gender ideologues, towards women who question the current mainstream narrative that anyone can be a woman, and that biological women should not have access to spaces or rights protected on the grounds of sex. Those who question the focus on gender ideology in schools are also sometimes labeled TERFs. Some of those who speak up for women’s rights have adopted the term of a badge of honour.

Transbian – a trans identified male who self-identifies as a lesbian, and who typically demands to be treated as such, e.g., insisting on inclusion in lesbian-themed events and/or on lesbian dating apps.
 
I hope the above information is a helpful start. Please note, the above list is not an exhaustive one, and the definitions merely scratch the surface; I encourage you to take some time to google further, and ask questions of people you know and trust if details are confusing. There is a LOT of controversy about all things remotely related to the alphabet soup right now, so some “facts” cannot be taken at face value. Apply vigorous critical literacy skills as you go, please!
 
The Alphabet Soup & the Pride Flag
 
Many outside the community (and indeed some of us inside it!) struggle with the ever-increasing list of terms. For me, it’s this simple: the first three, i.e. LGB, refer to sexual orientation, i.e. lesbian, gay or bisexual. The inclusion of T for trans confounds me. To me, gender identity is such a completely different thing than sexual orientation, the two don’t really belong together.

The beautiful rainbow pride flag has also, in recent years, undergone transition… in some places, it is now impossible to find the original, which has been replaced by the ubiquitous “progress pride” flag, including brown and black (to signify support for the BIPOC community, or Black, Indigenous and People of Colour) and baby blue and pink, the trans colours (which have also been associated with pedophilia, or the more palatable “minor attracted persons” MAP community), and more recently, a circle representing the Intersex symbol.

Related but Separate

Wanting to separate the LGB from the T+ doesn’t signify to me that one is transphobic. What it signifies to me is a desire to focus the work on the Pride community. And I don’t think saying that means one can’t support both causes.

I think it’s important for those of us who are gay, lesbian and bisexual to stand up against discrimination in all its forms, but also to be able to have spaces – both online and in-person – where we can discuss issues specific to our needs. Moreover, we as a community have spent so many decades convincing the general public that we are “normal”, i.e. that we go to work, pay our taxes, do our laundry and grocery shopping, take the kids to school, etc., that many of us are very concerned about the infiltration of what we see as problematic perspectives. For example, I am NOT okay with increasing supports for pedophiles, I don’t care what they want to call themselves. Moreover, as a lesbian, I am tired of being told that I have to share my online platforms with men who identify as women. I don’t think this makes me transphobic, I’m not opposed to transfolks having their own spaces in which to share ideas, needs, concerns, hopes, dreams… and we can even have some shared spaces. I’m just not prepared to give up the special protected spaces we have fought long and hard for ourselves, and I don’t see why it has to be an either/or situation.
 
I hope this vocabulary primer and related commentary serves as a helpful entry point to exploring whether or not I am a “transphobe”.

It was a grey, overcast morning. But COPA Flight 57 in Charlottetown, PEI was determined to host a successful COPA for Kids event, and so off to the airport I went, just as determined to make Canadian Aviation Pride’s maritime event debut a success as well!

Canadian Aviation Pride, or CAP for short, is a national organization of LGBTQ+ aviators engaged in not-for-profit work to unite, celebrate and promote diversity in the industry. We count flight attendants, air traffic controllers, aviation engineers and other aviators amongst our ranks, though the vast majority of our members are pilots. Most of our Board members are located in Vancouver or Toronto, and as a result, most of our events happen in these two cities, with more recent branching out to Montreal and a few western cities.

Being able to participate in an event in Eastern Canada was a really exciting opportunity for us, and I was pleased to represent CAP as the board donated 100 of our signature rainbow airplane necklaces and a bunch of other swag to hand out to the kids.

People sometimes ask why we volunteer at events like this, setting up a booth or table, and spending the day chatting with folks, some of whom can become mildly unpleasant or downright hostile when they discover we are a “gay” organization. The main reasons include promoting aviation as a fun and inclusive industry, so that young people, many of whom tend to be more open-minded than their elders, can see opportunities in an industry that sometimes has a reputation for homophobia, sexism and/or racism.

A big factor for us is to be models of what well-adjusted, “successful” professionals who happen to be queer might look like. This helps both LGBTQ+ youth to see themselves reflected in an exciting industry that we want them to consider, and their families, who may not yet know or may still be adjusting to the fact their their child is queer. It provides a standard for straight families to see what a gay person in aviation might look and sound like beyond a flamboyant pride parade. It also helps to normalize an often still stigmatized identity for queer families, those with two moms or two dads, etc. Lastly, it allows us to be open and visible for aviators who identify internally as LGBTQ+ but are not (yet) out themselves. We can be brave for others who are still gathering the courage to bring their whole selves to their work or hobbies.

As a queer woman, I have additional motives as well.

In Canada (and indeed throughout most of the world), flight decks comprise only about 6% women. While there are some exceptions (most notably, Porter Airlines in Toronto), most airlines are still holding steady at 6%, and this figure has been extremely slow to reach. So, I want to promote not only LGBTQ+ inclusion in aviation, but more specifically, WOMEN in aviation, queer or otherwise!

PEI is a particularly challenging environment for this work. The local flight club is made up almost exclusively of men, with wives and girlfriends being included only for things like administrative and other “helper” tasks. (The registration desk at this event was staffed entirely by women!)

And, critical as their organizational help was, I can’t help but struggle with the image this projects to the girls in attendance at such an event: All the pilots are men, and the women stay indoors and work at the desk.

The boys and their families also subconsciously adopt this image. Aviation is for boys and men.

So, as I chatted with the kids and their parents who visited our colourful booth, I made sure to talk about the fact that I, too, am a licensed pilot, and that my partner, a woman, works as a pilot for a commercial airline. This was an important message for the girls to hear, as well as their brothers, and their parents!

I was pleased to see that COPA had adopted a woman-aware approach as well, including a female aviator at the top of their banner. But I was shocked at how few girls were signed up to fly. The overwhelming majority of kids registered for a free flight were boys, and ALL the volunteer pilots were men.

Happily, as the grey skies cleared up, I got to help on the ramp, directing groups of kids to the planes for their free fam flight. This meant that I had a direct hand in working with each pilot to arrange who sat where.

You can be sure that I made certain that for every group I had with a girl in it, the girl got the right seat, up front, at the controls!!!

With 50 percent of the population still being grossly underrepresented in the cockpit and elsewhere in aviation, I feel like it’s my personal duty as a person of some periphery influence in the industry to not only expose girls to aviation, but to also engineer opportunities to make that exposure as meaningful as possible!

I’m happy to have had the opportunity to represent CAP in Prince Edward Island this summer. And while I am grateful to Flight 57 for including us, and for all the volunteer pilots who came out to ignite a passion for flying in the kids whose parents registered, I am also hopeful that as a result of meeting an actual email pilot and being able to spend 20 minutes at the controls of an airplane in flight, future years will include some female volunteer pilots on this still very traditional little island.

While we've worked hard in our personal life to surround ourselves with influences that positively portray the fluidity of our people, the mainstream world around us apparently continues to wallow in a quagmire of clearly defined roles, rules and gender stereotypes.

The literature, activities and announcements on board harp on these stereotypes, and while no one was outright homophobic, it was generally assumed that everyone aboard was "normal", ie straight and aligned with the gender binary.

In the middle of our cruise, there was a game show, based on an actual TV game show, called "Love and Marriage", held in the theatre. It was here that Tats and I elected to challenge the somewhat stifling straight culture that surrounded us.

On a whim, Tats and I auditioned (if an impromptu queer interpretation of the required ultra-hetero Tarzan scene could be called an audition).... And the next thing we knew, we had won the audience over and found ourselves on stage as one of the three couples selected for the show!

Wedged in between two newlyweds and a husband and wife who had been together for over forty years, Tats and I representated "mid range" (over five years and under 20). We were also the only lesbian couple, and -- I suspect -- probably the only LGBTQ couple they've ever had on the ship's show. As a result largely of this latter fact, we found we gained considerable fame and notoriety; for the remainder of the cruise we kept getting "recognized" wherever we went. This consisted largely of people coming up to us with a big, friendly smile and telling us how much they had enjoyed our performance, and the occasional person yelling, “sing in Russian!“ across a room at Tats, because of a response I had given to one of the questions asked during the game show.

While it was a little disconcerting to be thrust into the public eye like that, it was in some ways a not altogether unfamiliar feeling. As a parent of monozygotic twins, I've become accustomed some level of notoriety (this was especially true when Alex and Simon were small and more easily recognizable as a “pair”).

I’ve been a lesbian for so long I hardly even think about coming out anymore. Until tonight.

Let me clarify: I‘ve always been queer, of course, but I didn‘t actually come out of the closet (to myself or anyone else) until well into my thirties, by which time I had — inconveniently — already married a man and borne his children. Coming out was a tricky business, but one which was navigated long enough ago now that it no longer gives me heart palpitations to think about it. And, being fortunate enough to live in a reasonably socially just society like Canada, I don’t constantly have to question whether and to what extent I can reveal my identity: I have photos of my partner on my desk at work alongside the kids, and she‘s as welcome at any straight person‘s social gathering as any hetero spouse would be. There are laws that prohibit discrimination against me at work an in my personal life, and when Tats and I finally end our engagement with a wedding, it will be a marriage that is legally recognized.

So life is good. Now.

But... life has a funny way of reminding us at the most importune times of where we‘ve been while it unveils a little piece of where we might be going. And tonight was one of those funny/inopportune times!

I sing in a choir, of late, through one of my sons’ school community, and tonight we held our first concert of the year. The event took place in the sanctuary of my old church, that is, the church I attended for nearly two decades. The church where I was baptised, and that served as my spiritual home until I came out at 38.

Initially excited that the concert was so close to home (My partner, our kids and I still live in the neighbourhood, and their dad and his partner also reside nearby), I was surprised by how affected I was when I actually found myself in that space once again. I had performed musically there many times in the past, and had spent many Sundays in the pews with my children and what at the time was my church family, listening to our pastor share biblical passages and his reflections on them. I had broken bread with my fellow worshippers for many church anniversaries and old fashioned family Christmas dinners. It was a bit odd to be in that space now, in a completely secular context.

It wasn‘t until I dropped my coat off in the little room behind the choir loft, though, that the significance of being away for so long really hit me.

As I glanced around, I remembered that it was here in this small room, seated in the worn-out, old chairs, that my ex-husband and I met with our pastor and a church elder to advise them of our „predicament“, while my partner was at home, minding the kids. And it was here that — when I was most in need of some stability and graceful guidance as I navigated the complexity before me in my personal life — that I was instead abandoned by those from whom I had hoped to find said stability and guidance.

I don’t blame the pastor entirely. I mean, it was a small little blue collar baptist church. Even in the early 2000s in Toronto, it was a big deal. The kind of thing that could really tear a small congregation apart. The divorce was as „problematic“ in itself as the homosexuality. (Nevermind the connection between the two!) But the fact that I was an orphan with no family of my own to help me figure out „now what“ made it especially painful that my church family would not step up and have courageous conversations with me, and with each other to challenge their biases and assumptions. Whether or not they were - individually or collectively - cerebral enough to critically examine the scriptures that had so often been used to oppress people like me through the ages, it would have been nice if they had at least showed compassion. No one shunned me outright or anything like that... but no one reached out to check in on me and my little family (the twins were 6 at the time — they needed to know that their mother was accepted and loved; as it turned out, they got more acceptance of me through their dad‘s parents than their church family!) And, when we drifted away and finally stopped going to that church altogether, no one followed up. (In fact, when I came back to visit sometime later, people were surprised to learn that I had begun attending another church — funny how they all assumed I‘d come out of the closet and jumped straight into bed with the devil!)

I hadn‘t realized just how much this all still affected some part of me until tonight, when I stood in that little room behind the choir loft, looked around, and realized, „Oh, wow - the last time I was in here was when...“

I don‘t know where that church stands now on full inclusion for LGBTQ+ folks. I know I cannot have been the only queer person at that church, and my heart hurts for others who came before and after me who did not find dignity and fellowship in that place.


The irony of the the words we sang at the end of our final set this evening was not lost on me. Oscar Peterson‘s Hymn to Freedom, arranged for two-part choir by Seppo Hovi: „Any hour, any day, the time soon will come when all will live in dignity, that's when we'll be free.“ All. Period. Not just all heterosexual people.


Luckily, the time for dignity came long ago for me, and I am most certainly free to be who I am most of the time in most daily contexts now. It felt strange, therefore, to find myself temporarily back in a place where that had once not been the case.

On my arrival at the check-in desk in Toronto, the nice lady asked me where I was staying in Boston, to which I replied, “hmmm... I have no idea, I’m flying out with my partner, who is a first officer, and I don’t know the name of the hotel that’s been booked”.

And that’s were the trouble started.

“Is he a pilot with this airline?” The nice lady asked; “yes, she is”. (My gently corrective response.)

We debated back and forth whether — given that this was a company employee — the customer service rep might have access to the hotel info (my partner, probably engaged in her pre-flight briefing with the crew, was not responding to my texts).

Eventually the CSR summoned her colleague at the next kiosk and made the inquiry: “This lady is flying to Boston and her partner is a pilot on the flight; do we know which hotel the crew is staying at?”

The colleague wanted to ascertain everyone’s status: “He’s the captain on the flight, or the first officer?”

“She’s the FO” I calmly explained, and added a meek, “Sorry, she’s not responding to my texts right now.”

Long story short, we found a temporary solution until my female first officer partner finally texted me the details. But I was left with an annoyed sense of mistaken identity.

I couldn’t figure out whether it was gender stereotyping at play [Even people who know I’m gay do a double take when they find out Tats is a pilot — the first assumption when I say “my partner flies for (insert airline here)” is that she’s a flight attendant. Cause, you know, only men can be pilots apparently.] or heteronormativity (I’ve noticed that since I let my hair grow ever so slightly beyond my usual short fade/undercut, there is less of an assumption about my LGBTQ+ status... especially when I’m not decked out in plaid and/or Doc Martins!!)


It suddenly dawned on me that it actually didn’t matter whether gender bias or heteronormativity was the culprit — the use of the pronoun “they” would have solved either problem... AND would have signalled more generally a culture of inclusion on the part of the airline.

Here’s to the use of the pronoun “they”, and to the evolution of grammar in support of a more inclusive language!

If you’ve ever wondered about how lesbians do things, you’re in for a real treat: Today's post is about the lesbian lifestyle.

I've written about "the gay lifestyle" in the past, but this particular post is about a very specific aspect of lesbianism, namely, the struggles that two more masculine women face when managing stereotypically "female" situations.

In the past, when I reveal that my spouse is also a woman, I have more than once been asked "who's the man?"

I kid you not, this is not a one time question, and as I do not always know the questioners well enough to presume an "intimate" nature to their line of questioning, I can only assume they are asking more superficially, i.e. who takes on the classically "male" chores around the house.

When faced with important domestic tasks, it seems the answer is, "we're BOTH the man"!

This was clearly illustrated to me this past weekend, when I had to help my partner with an emergency hemming situation.

Now before you ask what could possibly constitute such an emergency, allow me to explain.

You see, my partner recently got hired as a first officer with a regional airline. As such, she was issued a standard uniform, and given a budget to customize said uniform to specs.

For example, pant leg length.

This next part is not so much about the lesbian lifestyle, but it is germane to the story, so bear with me while I set the context.

On Thursday, my partner took all three issued pairs of pants to be altered last week. On account of the long weekend, they were to be ready for pick up on Tuesday. Not a problem, since she was still awaiting her actual flight schedule, and assumed she was not working for the foreseeable future.

But on Friday, my partner got word that she was to report for duty first thing Monday morning for a two-day pairing with an overnight in Windsor! In other words, she needed an actual pair of uniform pants, with legs hemmed, before Tuesday.

And thus ensueth the "emergency hemming situation" referenced above.

My partner dashed over to the dry cleaner and demanded one pair of pants back immediately. ESL barriers (both hers and theirs) not withstanding, she soon returned with one slightly crumpled and of course still unhemmed pair of pants.

Now if we were in a nice, traditional (read "straight") relationship, the woman could simply hem the pants, and the man -- who does not know how to hem pants, but can fly airplanes -- could wear them to his pilot job, and all would be well with the world.

Alas, because we are lesbians, neither of us knows how to hem pants. So we would have been really screwed (and not in a good way), except that as everyone knows, all lesbians are good problem solvers and very creative.

My partner, determined not to report for her first official day of work in pinned up pants, began to google.

She soon came across that magical tool called "hem tape". Hem tape is a lovely little iron-on solution for those (like men and lesbians) who don't know how to sew. You simply cut the tape to the length you need, fold up the material you want to hem, and iron that sucker on high to bond the two parts together. Bingo, you got yourself a sweet little hem!

As soon as she mentioned it to me, I remembered I had used the stuff years ago (when I was married to a man but still did not know how to sew, because I was not a real woman even then, I was a lesbian, I just didn't know it yet) to "hem" a curtain.

Off we went to Walmart of all places (never again!!) and picked up a roll of the glorious substance.

And then it was off to "hem" the girl's pants.

Since the job still required the use of an iron (a borderline "female" task), it was going to be a two-lesbian job for sure.

And what a job it was! In my eagerness to help, I had forgotten the little detail about how a pants leg is actually a round loop, and a hell of a lot more complicated to hem (even with tape) than a straight edge curtain. Despite measuring with a ruler and trying our best not to iron out the pre-existing crease in the pants, we botched the job pretty good, and had to start over a few times.

Also we did it naked, but not because we are lesbians, but because it was super hot this weekend, and we don't have air conditioning in our apartment.

Despite a two-hour struggle to hem (with tape) one pair of pants, we managed to get the job done, and you can only tell if you look really close that one leg is slightly longer than the other.  Overall, though, she still looks pretty kick ass in her uniform, and went off to do two full days of flying and didn't crash the plane.

Despite being a lesbian!

One of my former students connected with me on LinkedIn recently.

And not just any former student, this was a kid from the very beginning of my teaching career! Back in the day when I had more enthusiasm than experience, more passion than pedagogical knowledge.

I remember this kid. I have often seen his face in my mind over the years, because he was one of those creative souls for whom school seemed just a little too basic. Teachers, I suspect, didn’t really appreciate the true value of this guy’s innovative mind. He wasn’t a troublemaker, in the teachery sense of the word, but I’m willing to bet my bottom dollar that he was rarely if ever intellectually challenged as much as he could or should have been in elementary school.

Naython (not his real name) darkened my door his grade 6 year at the K-8 school where I started my career. It was my second year in the classroom, and I really cared about the kids, but I was a new teacher, and still had lots and lots and lots to learn!

Likely bored to tears by by my basic, beginning teacher lessons, the kid would sit quietly while I droned on, and glue little bits of pencil and eraser to the legs of his desk. Quite creative, actually, if you overlook the fact that he was vandalizing board property.

Yep, The kid was quirky all right. I remember his deadpan query, when I was delivering the slightly over-the-top instructions for EQAO’s written component (it was the first year of the provincial testing, and there were extensive instructions about what students could and could not write for the fiction part of the assessment, and what our responsibilities were as educators, if we had concerns about the violent, bloody/glory, or otherwise troublesome nature of anything a student had written). Pokerfaced and in his usual monotone, Naython wondered aloud, “what should we write about, Ms. Teschow? Rainbows and puppy dogs?”

Indeed!

Speaking of rainbows, judging by the young man’s LinkedIn profile (he still looks very much like he did in Grade Six, btw!), I would venture a guess that he might be of my tribe, so to speak. Both his volunteer endeavors and his paid work over the past decade would suggest that he is either part of the LGBTQ family, or a very strong ally.

Assuming the former, I am struck with a nagging sense of guilt.

I did not come out of the closet – – to myself or my students – – until the final few years of my teaching career. And as such, I missed many opportunities to model for the students in my classes what a “normal“ queer adult could look and sound like. And if I’m right in my assessment of my new LinkedIn contact’s sexual identity, then he was one of the statistically 2 to 3 kids in my class that year who did not get to see and hear that it was OK to be gay (or bi, lesbian, trans, 2-spirit, etc.)

Lucky for Naython, he seems to be doing quite well for himself despite having had me as a teacher during his (and my?) formative years.

And now that my days in a classroom are over, and I play a more subtle role in helping to shape education policy at the provincial level rather than more directly influencing students, I must resort to guiding and mentoring other educators to be good allies, or, if they themselves identify on the LGBTQ+ spectrum, to be confident in who they are and embrace this part of their identity for and with their students.

The Naythons of the world might well depend on it!

Come enjoy "a night at the Aqueerium!", suggested a large digital sign festooned with rainbow fish and the branding of a local aquarium.  I was accosted by this colourful bit of corporate Pride at the subway, on my way to work this morning.

While I must confess both the visual feast of the advertisement and its playful pun caught my attention, something seemed a bit... well, queer.

I had been to said aquarium (in months other than June), and the business did not strike me as particularly LGBTQ-friendly.  I don't remember being impressed with a representative presence of gay, lesbian or trans folks who work at or patronize the place.  And did they have gender-inclusive washrooms?  I don't recall, actually (which probably means they didn't).

So it struck me as a bit odd (or queer, if you will) that this same establishment was now promoting itself as a fun place for the gays to hang out. In fact, it made me think of any number of allegedly LGBTQ-friendly businesses that seem to crawl out of the woodwork around Pride month. 

It's June, y'all, and suddenly everyone is all supportive of the homos!

Don't get me wrong... in a world that for so long overwhelmingly slung derogatory comments in the general direction of anyone who did not dance to the beat of the heteronormative drummer, and that certainly never celebrated anything queer, there is something quite comforting about seeing the colours of my tribe's flag represented in the mainstream.

But the truth is, it just all feels a little, well, insincere.

A gay colleague was complaining to me recently about how it frustrated him that so many of the younger fags just think Pride month is a party.  They forget, he lamented, the sacrifices that bought them the freedom to  frolic freely down the street amongst friends and allies all weekend long. 

They forget that the first pride marches were riots, political protests designed to raise awareness amongst a mainstream that could no longer afford to ignore a critical mass, and to demand from that mainstream the same basic human rights that they enjoyed.

Stonewall, the AIDS crisis, Operation Soap, Harvey Milk,  The Continental, Brent Hawkes... many straight people and even LGBTQ youth today have never heard of these historical events, places and figures. 

And those who have have only a superficial understanding of their significance in our tribe's history.

So what I want to know is, where was TD  Bank or Telus, who proclaim #lovewins and claim to be #foreverproud, when Rev Brent Hawkes was on Day 17 of his 25-day hunger strike in 1981, protesting police brutality and demanding an inquest into the bathhouse raids? (Or where were they, for that matter, 25 years later, when this same Canadian hero wore a bullet-proof vest to perform the first same sex wedding ceremonies in the world?!)

While it's true, as this CBC Archives clip from the late 1970s suggests, that LGBTQ rights have come a long way, let us not forget that it was within this decade that a mayor for our city refused to acknowledge the globally lauded efforts of the city and LGBTQ allies in particular for organizing World Pride, an event that drew millions to Toronto and resulted in undisputed economic gain for this city.  (And moreoever, this after he was already accused of making several previous homophobic remarks, and caught on film making misogynistic comments.)   

Nationally, we're faring no better:  It was only this past year that our Prime Minister finally acknowledged and apologized for decades of discrimination against LGBTQ Canadians; meanwhile, conservative leaders in our country continue to proudly promote homophobic policies.

Gay men find themselves at greater risk for violent crime, simply because they are gay, and it's no secret that LGBTQ youth are five times as likely to be homeless as those who identify as cis-gender and/or straight. 

Women, POCs and members of the Indigenous community who also happen to identify as LGBTQ are hit with a double whammy.

Where, pray tell, are all the proud businesses when it comes time to take action and create practical solutions to these very real problems that face our community?  Where are they when it's time to take a stand and speak up for what's right, even when it's not popular or sexy?

As someone who's been around long enough to know better, I'll enjoy the rainbow of my Pride celebrations this year, but I won't forget the cost at which they've come. 

​Nor will I climb unassumingly into bed with any business who slaps a rainbow onto their June advertising without the faintest idea of what their previous decades-long silence has meant to us.