Unapologetically Queer
Sharing Our Stories
A Special Edition of
Spark Your Pride Board of Directors
Cheryl Loadman (Chair), Belinda Betker, Barbara Clanchy, Jean Dudley, Peter Lippmann, Terry Summers
Project Committee
Terry Summers, Belinda Betker, Barbara Clanchy, Renée Gavigan, Peter Lippmann
Saskatchewan History & Folklore Society
Honorary Patron
Her Honour the Honourable Bernadette McIntyre Lieutenant Governor of Saskatchewan
Board of Directors
Jessica DeWitt, Joey Donnelly, Amanda Fehr, Simone Hengen, Hugh Henry, Jade McDougall, Darren Prefontaine, Leanne Tremblay, Courtney Tuck-Goetz, Julie Yu.
Unapologetically Queer: Sharing Our Stories
is a Special Edition of Folklore Magazine. Folklore is published quarterly by the Saskatchewan History & Folklore Society with funding assistance provided by Saskatchewan Lotteries.
Oral History Interviewers
Emma Wintermute, Sara Pilon, Gavin Robertson, Renée Gavigan, Belinda Betker, Peter Lippmann, Barbara Clanchy, Terry Summers
Story Writers
Gwen Rose, Belinda Betker, and Barbara Clanchy. All final stories were approved by the interviewees or thier representatives.
Content Editor, Principal Copy Editor Belinda Betker
Layout & Additional Copy Editing
Kristin Enns-Kavanagh
Cover Image
"Wedding, Moneca & Lori" 2008. Photograph. Used with permission. On stairs, top to bottom: Kyla, Brittney, and William. Foreground: Moneca (at left) & Lori.
Copyright (c. 2025), the authors. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the publisher.
The Saskatchewan History & Folklore Society assumes no responsibility for statements made by the authors. Canadian Publications Mail Product Sales Agreement 40016709, Postage Paid in Regina
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Folklore Magazine 243 Robin Crescent, Saskatoon, SK S7L 6M8
Tel: (306) 975-0826 or 1-800-919-9437, e-mail: info@shfs.ca website: www.skhistory.ca ISSN 0824-3085
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SHFS takes responsibility for identifying and sharing histories, folklore and living traditions of all people in the province. We do so in a manner that contributes to right relations, addresses the ongoing impacts of colonialism, and promotes Reconciliation.
Unapologetically Queer: Sharing Our Stories
Spark Your Pride Committee
This special edition of Folklore magazine is a collaboration with Spark Your Pride – Culture, History, and Arts Organization of Saskatchewan Inc., a non-profit organization whose mission is to celebrate the lives of Saskatchewan 2SLGBTQIA+ people. 2SLGBTQIA+ stands for two-spirit, lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, intersex, and asexual, with the ‘+’ representing the vast variety of gender and sexual identities beyond the ever-expanding acronym.
This edition evolved from a 2024 project by Spark Your Pride. We recorded oral interviews with various older 2SLGBTQIA+ couples and singles in Saskatchewan during the twentieth anniversary year of samesex marriage rights in Saskatchewan. We originally collected these interviews for a theatre project and for addition to the University of Saskatchewan’s special collections archives, specifically the Neil Richards Collection of Sexual and Gender Diversity. The transcripts also evolved into the stories you read here about the lived experiences of queer and trans individuals in Saskatchewan from the early 1950s to today.
honour for what we’ve survived and as a word that can’t hurt us anymore. Others of us reclaim it as an overarching inclusive word to indicate people beyond heterosexual and/or cisgender identities.
The stories in this edition include moments of deep and enduring love, stories of tragedy and loss, uplifting tales of humour in the face of adversity, and accounts of resilience that reveal the profound strength within our queer community. The people we interviewed were between the ages of fifty and ninety-four. They spoke about their lives, their families of origin, their chosen families, their coming out experiences as queer and/ or trans, and their unique but relatable stories of ‘just living their lives.’
The stories in this edition include moments of deep and enduring love, stories of tragedy and loss, uplifting tales of humour in the face of adversity, and accounts of resilience that reveal the profound strength within our queer community.
Telling our queer stories is a deeply personal and transformative experience. For the storyteller, it is an act of vulnerability and self-expression, sharing glimpses of our pain, our joy, our love, and our hardships. We often don't share these stories publicly because of our fear of hate, discrimination, and homophobia/transphobia. Therefore, we respect the right to privacy for anyone who chose to use pseudonyms to share their story anonymously.
It is important here to talk about the word queer and its complicated history. Some folks in our 2SLGBTQIA+ communities are deeply uncomfortable with queer because of its painful associations with the past when the word was scornfully used as a derogatory slur. Others reclaim queer as a badge of
We hope that sharing these queer stories fosters connections and inclusion among our prairie communities. The experiences and lives of queer individuals enrich our province’s past, present, and future.
We are grateful to the members of our
2SLGBTQ+ community for sharing their stories, memories, and photos. We are also thankful to our community members who performed the interviews, transcribed them, wrote the stories, edited them, collected pictures, and helped prepare this edition for printing. We look forward to continuing to devote our energies to this ongoing project of collecting queer Saskatchewan history.
Sadly, two people among those interviewed passed away shortly after their recordings. We appreciate them for having expressed themselves in their interviews and are forever thankful to be able to include their words as part of this collection of stories.
A Special Edition of Folklore Magazine
Kristin Enns-Kavanagh, Executive Director
The Saskatchewan History & Folklore Society (SHFS) is delighted and honoured to share this special edition of Folklore Magazine. This edition features stories from members of Spark Your Pride – Culture, History, and Arts Organization of Saskatchewan Inc.
We were so thankful and delighted to work with the Spark Your Pride Committee as they laboured to prepare these stories for publication. We want to thank all involved in bringing this publication to life, from interviewing to editing to gathering photos and tracking last-minute details. In particular, we would like to thank all those who generously shared their stories to benefit present and future generations.
The SHFS is a provincial organization that delivers programs and activities to inspire and enrich people's understanding of history, folklore, cultural identity, and the links between the past, present, and future.
Our unique identity comes from our focus on storytelling and the history and folklore of daily life. We engage with the past through the lens of everyday people's lived experiences, such as those in this volume: stories of humour, heartbreak, family, love, and the everyday business of living. For over 40 years, we have published Folklore Magazine, a unique Saskatchewan venue to share personal, local, and community history.
We hope these stories will inspire all who read them to record their own stories and pass them on to the future.
Bob: True to Himself
by Gwen Rose
Bob’s story spans two separate periods of time with very distinct phases of life: his forty-six years together with partner Monty, in Brandon, Manitoba; and then his last nineteen years in Saskatoon following Monty’s passing.
Bob realized he was attracted to men early in his adolescence. At the time, there were a lot of handsome young Air Force servicemen around (Brandon was an RCAF training station during the Second World War), so this might have triggered
his realization! He never acted on these feelings until after his first day of employment as a teacher when he met Monty.
Working at the same school, Bob and Monty became close very quickly, especially since Bob worked as a “release” teacher, covering subjects like English and Music that regular classroom teachers like Monty didn’t teach. This resulted in them teaching some of the same students. Release teaching has become quite common, but Bob highlighted that it was rarer then, and he felt quite fortunate to have met Monty.
Having the opportunity to work with Monty seemed to flow naturally into a relationship. Neither man “came out” to the other—they just knew. Bob said that every time they “changed classes,” they “always had that same look for each other.”
As Bob, a new younger teacher, initially boarded at Monty’s house for four years, their relationship likely developed outside the public eye without rais-
Left: Bob on the day of his Brandon University graduation, 1954. Facing page: Bob's Grade 12 graduation photo from Winnipeg United College, 1950.
Bob chose to move to Saskatoon after Monty’s passing in 2005. He felt he needed a change of scenery of sorts, but by no means did he intend, even at age 75, to slip into a quiet phase of life.
ing any eyebrows. With that said, Bob was quite clear that both he and Monty were very open about their relationship for the majority of their forty-six years together. He recognized that this was likely something of an anomaly at the time, and although Brandon didn’t have a thriving gay community, Bob highlighted that they weren’t alone. He related one instance of driving through Brandon with Monty and pulling up alongside a car occupied by another gay couple—Bob says they all recognized each other on sight for what they were.
Bob was Principal at George Fitton School, Brandon, MB from 1969 to 1989.
Bob stresses that in retrospect, they were very fortunate. Neither man ever considered that they might have to conceal their relationship or sexuality for safety reasons; luckily that was true for their case. Their families also accepted them and their relationship with each other, so they didn’t have to navigate the pain and awkwardness of rejection or family schisms. In Brandon, they always went out to concerts and functions together as a couple. From our other interviews, we know that this openness wasn’t always the case for others. Bob’s story might indeed serve as an outlier of sorts, given the essentially total acceptance that he and Monty experienced in their lives.
Bob says that they didn’t initially use the word “gay”; rather, he and Monty were “homosexuals”, but they lived through the gay and lesbian revolutions and came to accept the newer terms of their community. Bob also noted that reading widely in his youth allowed him to come to an understanding of himself after his initial revelations about who he found attractive. Although this didn’t stop him from experiencing bullying during some parts of high school, things improved at college, where a focus on drama reduced the presence of bigots.
Over the years, Bob would sometimes see former students from time to time at “gay retreats” hosted on a ranch near Maple Creek, SK. At home in Brandon, since Bob and Monty were openly known as homosexual teachers, some students, in later years, who came out to their parents might even be referred to Bob (the more extroverted of the two men, according to him) as someone they could talk to about their sexuality.
Bob and Monty loved to travel—in their many
years together, they went “all over the world,” and Bob relates that they almost always found other gay couples to socialize with on their travels. They also visited gay bars at locations all around the world. Even at home, the gay scene in nearby Winnipeg—which was certainly more of a “thing” than in Brandon—was not unknown to them. Socially active, Bob and Monty found a thriving gay community was often available to them if, and when, they looked for it.
Bob chose to move to Saskatoon after Monty’s passing in 2005. He felt he needed a change of scenery of sorts, but by no means did he intend, even at age 75, to slip into a quiet phase of life. Bob was active in volunteer circles for all of his years in the city, including at the Saskatoon Jazz Festival. He was always social, just as before, and he quickly became well-known in Saskatoon’s older gay community. He also became friends with the owner of Divas, a local gay bar where, according to Bob, things used to be a little different than they are now (though by any means, he wasn’t necessarily judging today’s vibrant, foamy Divas scene).
Bob told us that when Covid-19 reduced social opportunities, he and some select friends continued to meet on the sly as they didn’t want their friendships to fall by the wayside, and social life was important to them. Well into his nineties, Bob continued to meet with regular groups for activities and potlucks. Although he passed away in July
of 2024 at the age of ninety-four, Bob is well-remembered here in Saskatoon for his outgoing and gregarious personality and his involvement in the community—no small feat for a man who only moved to the city at the age of seventy-five.
Bob's later life is an example of love and continuing to live even after the loss of his one-andonly-lifelong partner. Many of the couples we interviewed worried what would happen if and when either one of them passed away. Bob’s story provides a model of sorts for continuing to live, to engage, to entertain (Bob was known as a frequent and excellent host), and, quite simply, to carry on. Bob expressed to us just how much he enjoyed his life in Saskatoon, and in many ways, he provides a wonderful example of a life well lived.
Bob on a Panama Canal cruise, 2015.
Right: Bob's 90th birthday at the Orbit 360 dining room, Sky City Tower, Auckland, Aotearoa New Zealand. March 11, 2020.
Belinda & Beth: Upside Down Under
by Belinda Betker
How did I, a Canadian woman, born in Yorkton, Saskatchewan in 1957 and raised in Saskatoon, meet and eventually marry an Australian woman born in Kyabram and raised on a dairy farm near Stanhope in the state of Victoria? The first four and a half decades of our very different lives between Canada and ‘down under’ merged one day into a chance meeting neither of us anticipated. What synchronicities occurred to bring us together, at the right time in the right place—was it fate? Karma? Kismet? Magic? An alignment of moon, stars, and planets?
I was a tomboy who liked sports during my younger years; but I also loved school, especially reading, writing, and poetry. I was a Girl Guide, helped teach leathercraft classes, and joined the Navy League cadets at HMCS Unicorn. In high school, I volunteered as a Candy Striper at Saskatoon City Hospital, and trained as a Naval Reservist. I had postings in Halifax, Victoria, and Mill Cove, Nova Scotia.
I finally settled in Victoria after I reconnected with a Regular Force sailor in the Canadian Navy who I’d originally met in Halifax. I quit the Reserves, started working for the federal government's Department of Supply and Services, moved in with my boyfriend, and, at just twenty years old, impetuously eloped and got married at City Hall.
Meanwhile, ‘down in Australia’, Beth, four years younger than me, was just starting high school. She was actively involved in various sports and was soon playing internationally competitive netball on the Australian national team. During that time, I was beginning to realize my mistake in getting married.
When my husband quit the Navy, we moved to Saskatoon. But, by the age of twenty-four, I left my marriage and started working at Saskatoon City Hospital.
In the meantime, Beth graduated from high
school and moved to Melbourne. She later lived and worked in London, England, traveled by bicycle around Europe, and eventually returned to Australia to earn her nursing degree.
During what became my thirty-two-year career with the Saskatoon Health Region, I went through a few more discouraging relationships before meeting a father of two young children. When we married, I became a full-time stepmother. But, as much as I loved being a mother, and enjoyed the variety of jobs I had at the hospital, I started to feel things weren’t completely right in my life.
By the age of forty, I finally realized that the problems I’d been having in my relationships with men…was that I’d been trying to have relationships with men! I finally left that marriage after I felt my stepchildren were old enough now to not need me at home in their day-to-day lives.
I gradually came out to myself and some friends but was still closeted within my family. I started attending ‘gay dances’ (as they were called then) and often ‘danced the night away’ at Divas, the local gay bar. I regularly attended drag shows there. I soon started performing male drag as Dyke van Dick. ‘Doing drag’ was a fabulous and fun way to play with, and against, gender. It was also intriguing to ‘pass’ as male and be treated differently when I was in drag and stopped for gas or cigarettes on the way out to a drag show. “Passing as a man” just because I dressed as one and had glued-on facial
Dyke van Dick. Photo credit: Debra Marshall Photography.
Left: Belinda (left) and Beth, wedding photo, June 19, 2010, in Saskatoon. Photo Credit: Ryan Jackson, Full Circle Visuals (ryanjackson.ca). All the following photos in this story are credit to Ryan Jackson.
hair was a fascinating experience.
During this time, I was involved with a woman thirteen years younger than me—a complicated relationship that ultimately fizzled out. When that ended, I reviewed all the relationships I’d ever had and developed a 3-column checklist for any future potential girlfriend. The first column was “Must be….” (a long list that included: free from any messy history with anyone else I knew; available to be in a relationship; spiritual; like-minded; monogamous; kind and loving toward my dog; responsible; caring; compassionate; intelligent; similar sense of
A few weeks later, she saw a large Pride flag in a downtown window, and discovered Gay & Lesbian Health Services (GLHS). She learned they were holding a dance the next night, which is when I saw her for the first time. I was immediately interested in this tall, attractive Aussie. Although we had a short conversation that night, she didn’t dance and didn’t stay long. We continued to run into each other at various events (other GLHS dances, Bridge City Chorus concerts and dances, and a Wyrd Sisters concert). We’d have brief conversations – but then she’d put her backpack on and ride off alone on her bike.
Pride Week, June 2003, was life-changing. Beth was upstairs at Divas, and the moment she saw me alone, she “zoomed down the stairs” to chat with me. We spent the night talking and dancing – first checkmark on my list!
humour; etc.). The second column was “Would be Nice If….” (similar likes and dislikes; enjoys Divas, dancing, and drag shows; enjoys nature; likes poetry and playing Scrabble; etc.). The last column was “Deal-breakers” —things I absolutely would not accept (alcoholism; addictions; cheating; irresponsibility, dishonesty; etc.)
During the next year of being single, I spent a lot of time writing poetry, socializing, dancing, doing drag, and refining my relationship checklist.
Meanwhile, western Canada was experiencing a nursing shortage. Beth, literally on the other side of the world, was preparing for a temporary move to “somewhere in Canada where there was snow.” She hoped to be placed in Banff or Jasper area but was offered a position at Royal University Hospital. She arrived in Saskatoon from Melbourne in August 2002.
Pride Week, June 2003, was life-changing. Beth was upstairs at Divas, and the moment she saw me alone, she “zoomed down the stairs” to chat with me. We spent the night talking and dancing—first checkmark on my list! We ‘closed the place out’, and I offered her a ride home. She’d ridden her bike to the bar, but luckily, it fit into the back of my Mustang. I offered to pick her up the next day for a Sunday walk at Cranberry Flats, but to my surprise, she said she’d be going to the Unitarian service in the morning. Second checkmark—the Unitarian congregation had been my spiritual home for years! So, I picked her up the next morning, and then dropped her off at home after the service so she could get ready for our walk. When I picked her up again, this time with my miniature schnauzer along, Shayda immediately hopped onto Beth's lap, tail wagging enthusiastically—third checkmark!
After that, we started ‘hanging out’, but I wasn’t sure if we were ‘just being friends or dating’ —there was no proverbial U-Haul in my driveway, but the checkmarks kept adding up! Meanwhile, I was still quite involved in the local drag community—some-
thing Beth didn’t know yet. Imagine her surprise when I offered to take her to a drag show at Divas, and showed up at her door in drag as Dyke van Dick! When that didn’t scare her off, I knew it was a good sign. Would she be the one to check off all the other right categories on my checklist? With her encouragement, I continued doing drag and earned the title of Mr. Diva’s 2005/Mr. Gay Saskatoon 8 the following year.
It was becoming more and more important for me, by this time, to ‘come out’ to my mother. I took Beth along to my mom’s place to drop something off, and of course, my mom, friendly to everyone, invited us to stay for coffee. The next time I saw Mom, I said “Beth isn’t just my friend… she’s my girlfriend.” Mom immediately replied that although she didn’t “quite understand about all that stuff”, she accepted me, loved me, and really liked Beth. Not much later, when I also ‘came out’ to Mom about performing male drag, she brought out my father’s 1950’s snap-brim hat for me to try on—it fit perfectly and became my favourite drag hat to wear. It’s one of my regrets that Mom never saw me perform in drag—I think she would’ve loved it.
After Mom accepted Beth and I as a couple, it was just a ‘matter of fact’ to gradually come out to the rest of my family. Nothing much was ever made of it—it really helped that everyone liked Beth as soon as they met her, and easily accepted her into the many family gatherings my mother loved to host.
a professional photographer, phoned from Edmonton to say he’d like to add a ‘gay wedding’ to his portfolio. He asked if I knew of any gay weddings coming up that he could photograph. Imagine his surprise when I said, “How about ours?” and then asked him to hand the phone over to my daughter!
Shortly after that, Beth’s best friend in Australia called to say he was coming to Canada in June to visit us for the first time. He asked for ideas about what we could do together while he was here. Beth said, “You can stand up for us at our wedding!” and so we had just six months to plan it.
After seven years as a couple, we were married at the Unitarian Centre on June 19, 2010, with family, friends, co-workers, neighbours, drag community, queer community, and writing community filling the building to overflowing. And yes, my son-in-law got
Beth eventually moved in with me, and we got engaged at Christmas in 2009. Before I’d even had a chance to phone and tell my daughter; her husband,
to photograph his first gay wedding! Instead of a traditional wedding dance in a hall, we had ours at Divas. Many of our wedding guests, including family and neighbours, had never been to ‘the gay bar’ before, but everyone had a great time. Many of them partied and danced until closing time.
Beth continued to work on the same RUH ward she started with when she first came to Canada. I took on different jobs every few years, mostly within City Hospital. After my retirement in 2016, I spent much more time on my ‘writing life’, which Beth has always fully supported. My first book, Phases—a memoir of poems about my childhood through to coming out in mid-life and performing as a drag king—was initially launched in November, 2019. The second edition with thirty-one additional new poems was published in fall of 2021.
Our life together is rich with shared values— ideologically, politically, creatively, and spiritually. Our many mutual interests include literary events and poetry readings, photography, art shows and galleries, documentaries and non-mainstream films, live theatre, concerts, dinners out and dinners with friends, and queer community events. At the same time, we support each other in our diverse interests and allow each other a lot of independence, never trying to control what the other
is doing. When Beth goes off kayaking, canoeing, and camping, I enjoy relaxing at home or socializing with friends. When I’m busy with writing, or volunteer work with Queer Seniors of Saskatchewan and Spark Your Pride, she might be busy with yoga, meditation, painting, knitting, soap-making, or other crafts.
Another important aspect of our life is sharing it with our lovely thirteen-year-old springer spaniel/ terrier-cross, Tia, who thinks she’s still a puppy. A favourite thing to do together is dog walks at various nature areas close to the city. Depending on the season, we especially enjoy watching Tia bound after sticks, snowballs, or the occasional teasing squirrel.
We’ve been fortunate to vacation together in most major Canadian cities, coast to coast. We love traveling to Australia, usually every year or two, to stay with Beth’s family and visit friends. I’ve been lucky to have so many experiences “in ‘Oz”, having wanted to travel there since high school, never dreaming it would actually ever happen. Now that Beth is also retired, we look forward to many more trips ‘down under’, while continuing to fully enjoy whatever other adventures our retirement years together will offer!
Wedding dance at Divas.
Peter & Lyle: Where Cycling can Take You
by Gwen Rose
Peter, aged 73, was born in North Vancouver, moved to Saskatoon in 1961, departed in 1976, and “lived all over” before returning to Saskatoon in 2014, which is where he eventually met Lyle.
Peter’s family is strongly evangelical, and for quite some time, he was as well. During his first stint in Saskatoon, he became a minister, got married, and became the father to three children during his family’s subsequent travels and relocations. Growing up in a conservative Christian environment, Peter
struggled with a tremendous amount of guilt because he knew he was gay, and he knew his church considered this to be an abomination. While many of the older individuals we talked to were willing to cross the bridge of coming out and navigating queer life in earlier decades, Peter’s story is far from uncommon. Conventional expectations and the religious environment in which he grew up (and later worked in) had him feeling trapped. He knew that if/when he came out, there would be repercussions within his entire family, with his wife and children, and with his job
Peter & Lyle. Charcoal sketch by Aarin Rinas, 2023.
and career.
Peter’s inner conflict weighed on him during a visit to Saskatoon to see his mother in the 1980s. He considered coming out to her, but then she “went on an incredibly homophobic diatribe”, unprompted by anything he had yet to say. He decided this was not the time to disclose his own sexuality, but, pushing back on her statement, he said “You never know when you could be sitting across from a gay person and you wouldn’t know.” She responded that she would know, “You can always tell.” Of course, Peter knew better, and his struggle went on. Coming out in such a homophobic family environment was going to take a sustained effort of fortitude.
Peter was finally able to tell his wife that he was gay. He told her he was “struggling with his sexuality,” even though he wasn’t actually struggling—it was just that his sexuality didn’t align with their heterosexual marriage. Peter details her devastating response: “She said, ‘don't let the door hit your ass on the way out, get out of the house.’ And then she got on the phone to call our district church supervisor and other church people to inform them that I was ‘a gay’, so my job went out the window. She got on the phone to call my family, my mom, my sister, and some of my aunts and uncles—most of whom have not reconciled with me in any way, shape or form. My oldest son has chosen to stay in that camp.” In one fell swoop, Peter’s life was torn apart, and a large majority of his family became estranged, including his oldest son’s children. He last saw his oldest son fourteen years ago, and he has never responded to any of Peter’s attempts to reconnect.
The pain from this rejection was somewhat alleviated by the support of his two younger children.
Peter’s youngest son took some time to adjust, but the two are very close. Peter’s daughter made a point of telling her dates, by the second date, that her dad was gay—in order to ditch “homophobic losers” sooner than later.
Peter’s life exemplifies some of the intense repercussions of homophobia, both in general and in institutionalized settings like (certain) branches of faith, where the homophobic teachings of a church can even override the bond of parent and child. Yet he had the support of two of his children, and of other people he might not have expected to understand him, including his grandmother. Simply by virtue of her advanced age and because “she grew up in another time,” she wasn’t someone Peter wanted to come out to, even though he and his partner at the time visited her often. One day, Peter’s aunt set a malicious trap for him, cornering him at his grandmother’s house and telling his grandma that Peter and the other man who had been visiting her were a couple – were gay. Her response? “Well, that’s okay. I like him (Peter’s partner).” Not only did the aunt get her comeuppance, but Peter received unexpected support from a family member he was quite close to; a welcome contrast to the spiteful attitudes of many of his other family members.
Meanwhile, Lyle, aged 63, had almost always lived in Saskatchewan. He was born and raised in one of the province’s many extremely small towns. Lyle’s life mirrors Peter’s in some ways—he spent a large part of his life in heterosexual relationships and eventually had a son with a common-law partner. He’d always known, in a way, that he was gay, even before he had the words for it. He was “fascinated by” and undeniably attracted to men, but in small town Saskatchewan, at school and on the
Finally, though, following the collapse of his common-law relationship with his son’s mother, Lyle had a revelatory experience. He met a man he was infatuated with, making his sexuality undeniable. He realized that he “couldn’t lie anymore” —not to others, and certainly not to himself.
playground where words like “gay” and “fag” were (and still are, at times) used as insults, he quickly learned to be cautious about this part of himself. He learned to “go along with it, and try to be into girls, while looking at guys.” Lyle’s internalized homophobia— “I knew I didn’t want to be gay, and I would not let myself be gay” (i.e., be out, or acknowledge his deep-rooted attraction to men)—affected the course of his life and career. He couldn’t truly invest in his relationships with women, and he would often leave abruptly “to go on the road again,” working as a sound technician with various rock bands. Finally, though, following the collapse of his common-law relationship with his son’s mother, Lyle had a revelatory experience. He met a man he was infatuated with, making his sexuality undeniable. He realized that he “couldn’t lie anymore” —not to others, and certainly not to himself.
Around this same time, in 2016, Lyle received a violation ticket for riding his bicycle on a Saskatoon sidewalk. Being too much of a self-described “Scrooge” to pay the ticket outright, Lyle chose the fine option method, and was given a list of Saskatoon organizations where he could apply his labour as payment for the fine. OUTSaskatoon caught his eye; and this is where Peter and Lyle’s two stories merge.
Peter was a founding member of OUTSaskatoon’s ‘Coffee Row’, which is a gathering for queer seniors. When Lyle arrived at OUT to begin working off his fine, Peter recognized him from a chance sighting at the very first Pride parade Peter chose
to attend. Peter remembers he was “down at Midtown Plaza… waiting for the parade to come. And I swear to God, that all of a sudden here was this svelte creature in spandex on a bike riding by. And I swear I saw his eyes, and I fell in love with his eyes. Lyle says I couldn't have because he was wearing sunglasses, but I'm sure he had them off for a few minutes.” When this same “svelte creature” walked into OUTSaskatoon, Peter regretfully ended up “going home that first day thinking, ‘you stupid ass. You didn't get his name; you didn't get a cell phone number!’”
But Lyle says that the OUTSaskatoon staff “conspired” to give Lyle various odd jobs to do (he was still working off his fine option, after all, and wasn’t just there to have coffee) and they tasked Peter with assisting him. So, in due time, Peter was able to get Lyle’s name and number after all. When they finally “made eye contact,” they went on a date “barely one day later and haven’t been apart since.”
Peter and Lyle related how, with each of them only coming out later in life and then finding each other, they throw caution to the wind, living authen-
Lyle & Peter, Fairmont Hot Springs, 2023.
The warm embrace of queer community softened Lyle to turn around on the idea of marriage. Not immediately, mind you—Peter had to ask him twice... As Lyle says now, “It does make sense. It changes your relationship once you do that, because you’ve said publicly that this is now a real commitment.”
tically rather than hiding their relationship. Doing so has freed them to hold hands in public, smiles on their faces. Any worries they’d had of experiencing stigma has been almost entirely unfounded, apart from some family members.
The warm embrace of queer community softened Lyle to turn around on the idea of marriage. Not immediately, mind you—Peter had to ask him twice, as Lyle said no the first time, his reasoning being that the institution of marriage itself wasn’t appealing. Noticing, however, that many young queer
couples rarely got married, Lyle changed his mind over the course of a year. He finally asked Peter to ask him again to get married (a funny, yet delightful, way of putting it). As Lyle says now, “It does make sense. It changes your relationship once you do that, because you’ve said publicly that this is now a real commitment.” So, they did indeed get married in 2018.
These two trailblazers made inroads, in time, with another faith community, despite all the pain of the past in terms of these “institutions.” When Peter first returned to the Saskatoon area in 2014, he lived for a year and a half on his sister’s acreage, not far from a Mennonite church. Peter could see the fence there was in obvious need of some minor repairs, so he wandered over and offered his assistance, but he wanted the church officials to know right away he was gay, and that they needn’t accept his assistance if this would be a problem. It wasn’t, in fact, any problem at all, and he set to work.
He began attending parts of the services, but had a routine worked out wherein he could be “the last one in, and first to leave,” to avoid being questioned by any of the congregation. He felt that he'd have to tell them he was gay, and he didn’t want to face rejection again. But the congregants noticed the stranger in their midst who always left a little early. One woman in particular was determined to track him down, and tricked him by leaving even earlier in order to introduce herself to him. Peter then met with church officials and once again openly stated that he was gay, and if this was an issue, he would no longer attend services. The minister simply responded, “well as long as you’re not asking me out on a date, we’re okay.” This not only fit perfectly with
Peter and Lyle cutting their wedding cake, November 5, 2018 in Saskatoon.
As men who were painfully closeted for many years, if they could give advice to their younger selves, Lyle would say, “Just be yourself. Stay true. And let them burn. Do your thing. I would tell that kid that you're good. Just stick with it. And I would have felt a lot better and had a lot less tears.”
Peter’s sense of humour, but also assuaged his fears.
When Lyle and Peter began dating, Lyle also started attending church with him. One day, Lyle was introduced to Barry at church, a “huge farmer,” who, after enveloping Lyle’s own large hands in his much bigger ones, asked Lyle if he was “Peter’s, uh…. Uhhhhh…”—growing red in the face as he struggled to find the right words. Lyle offered up the word “partner,” and Barry grinned and said, “yes, partner!” He’d lacked the words but not the spirit.
Since moving into Saskatoon, Peter and Lyle attend a local Mennonite church—an inclusive one with a Pride flag on the door—but they also remain close with their rural Mennonite community. When they celebrated their fifth wedding anniversary in 2023 by renewing their wedding vows, church members from both Mennonite churches blended in with queer
couples, even on the dance floor. Having regained a faith community was particularly important to Peter, but both men appreciate they can truly be who they are in such an atmosphere, something they highlight is largely a more recent phenomenon, as are the various churches where women can be pastors or ministers. As acceptance and inclusion grows, it can spread into faith communities as well. Hopefully others will be spared the pain that Peter felt when he was outed by his wife to his religious community; or the tension Lyle felt attending Catholic boarding schools as a youth who knew he was gay—which “wasn’t the Catholic way.”
As men who were painfully closeted for many years, if they could give advice to their younger selves, Lyle would say, “Just be yourself. Stay true. And let them burn. Do your thing. I would tell that kid that you're good. Just stick with it. And I would have felt a lot better and had a lot less tears.”
Peter, for his part, “would tell that person you don't have to change for others, because I did a lot of that.” Although the world can be a difficult place, we know from this story that people can find happiness and live authentically at any age—just as Peter and Lyle do.
Peter and Mennonite Allies in Saskatoon Pride Parade, 2022.
Bobbi accepting the Gay and Lesbian Health Service’s ‘Woman of the Year’ award from Saskatoon Mayor Jim Maddin, 2002.
Bobbi: Is She or Isn't She?
by Gwen Rose
Roberta, aka “Bobbi” Crowe was born in Toronto in 1948. Yet, in some ways, her journey, particularly as “Bobbi,” began in 1976, when she first attempted to medically and socially transition as a trans woman. There was no watershed moment that led to her decision. Rather, it was an entire lifetime of feeling more comfortable with girls—as a girl—and feeling, in contrast, decidedly out of place in male company and uncomfortable with stereotypical male behaviour. As a young child, Bobbi always played with the girls and was essentially accepted as one of them.
As it so often does, this social dynamic changed around the time of puberty. In her mid-teens, Bobbi sought psychiatric help to deal with what she was feeling: as though she were two different people trapped in one body. She continued with this therapy
from the late 1960s to the mid-1970s. Bobbi knew that she was attracted to women—as a trans woman today, Bobbi has long identified as a lesbian—so she adapted in large part by beginning to date women instead of just mingling with them. Her girlfriends, female coworkers, and friends often sought her advice on fashion or clothes for reasons they couldn’t quite put into words. She simply always fit in with women.
In 1976, already familiar with Toronto’s queer scene and knowledgeable about trans identities, Bobbi knew who she was, and wanted to live authentically in the world. She quit her job and started living as a woman full-time, but difficulties emerged on various fronts. Medically, although she had obtained a prescription for hormone therapy, she couldn’t find a pharmacy in Toronto to fill the prescription. She was directly turned away by various pharmacists who simply refused to have anything to do with her.
Bobbi in Toronto, 1952. Below: Bobbi's 21st birthday celebration in Toronto, 1969.
Left:
Socially, she found that the queer scene of the time wasn’t always fully understanding or inclusive of trans identities, trans women in particular. Many cisgender lesbians denied that she was, in fact, one of them. She had a few harrowing experiences with cisgender gay men, who perhaps felt she was more of a cross-dressing man, and who pursued her sexually despite her lack of interest in them. This included one incident where she was drugged and almost raped before being rescued by a friend.
The final challenge was being unable to find work as a woman. Although many trans women at the time were making their living in sex work, that was an unacceptable choice for Bobbi. Still, she didn’t, and doesn’t, judge any other women, trans or cis, for the choices that many feel forced to make due to their own circumstances.
So, at that time, Bobbi “gave up” instead. She returned to living as a man and moved to Saskatoon, where she secured a job as a banker despite the awkward “gap” in her resume she couldn’t truthfully explain.
Bobbi soon met her wife-to-be and was upfront about her identity. Her fiancée tried to understand and support her but was also a little “naïve” about it. She assumed that she could change Bobbi—that having a wife and children would essentially “make it all go away.” Bobbi also received that “advice” from various doctors at that time. Opinions of this nature were far from unusual back then. Bobbi even bought into this narrative herself for a while, especially as she really did want children, though in a more maternal way than others in her life may have realized. Trans history is strewn with examples of trans women and men who attempted to follow the route of “traditional marriage with children,” only to later realize that their identity remained as it had always been: trans.
In 1980, Bobbi married and soon after started a family. Bobbi loves her son and daughter and tried to make a good life with her wife, but in truth, as for so many others, nothing inside her had changed.
She continued wearing women’s clothing in secret, at home, or even underneath her “regular” clothing at work. When a work transfer occasioned a return to Toronto some years later, Bobbi often found herself out “late at night,” with “working late” as an excuse for not coming home. She mingled with sex workers, not to sleep with them, but to dress and present as a woman, and to be with other women as a woman. This behaviour put a strain on Bobbi’s marriage, especially as her wife continually discovered women’s clothing in various hiding places at home. This dual life, where Bobbi felt like “two people”—Bob the banker, and Bobbi the woman—threatened to break up her marriage numerous times. Finally, her wife gave Bobbi an ultimatum: they must return to Saskatchewan, where Bobbi’s wife was from and where her family lived.
This choice seemed easy enough, and the couple returned to Saskatoon. However, health troubles arose for Bobbi that complicated their plans. Finally, they settled in as the owners and managers of a series of rental properties. Bobbi’s activities, presenting as a woman outside her home, continued. Still, now, in a smaller community, she would sometimes even encounter some of her tenants out in public. The move to Saskatoon had not “fixed her marriage,” and her wife revealed Bobbi’s true identity to their children in 1996. In turn, Bobbi proposed that after their youngest child (their daughter) finished school
Below: Bobbi with her daughter and son on her birthday, October 2000.
in another five years, the marriage would end, and Bobbi would leave the home.
From 1996 to 2001, Bobbi lived more and more as herself—as a woman—and began volunteering at Gay and Lesbian Health Services in Saskatoon. The queer community was far more accepting than she’d previously experienced. However, this may have been due to the passing of time and cultural changes from 1977 to 1996. In any case, Bobbi found community. Although she has never been shy about confirming her identity as a trans woman when people ask her; for the most part, she also declines to volunteer this information. Many simply know her as a woman and lesbian. Still, when she won the Gay and Lesbian Health Service’s ‘Woman of the Year’ award in 2002, she publicly acknowledged in her acceptance speech how exciting it was to win the award, particularly as a trans woman.
Bobbi has seen attitudes towards trans people, and trans women in particular, shift markedly since her initial attempt to transition. Still, accessing bottom surgery was quite prohibitive for her for many years due to government funding models (or lack thereof). In 2019, she was finally able to have the surgery which she had long desired.
Bobbi’s activist and advocacy years encompass the period from 1996 through to later years, including many lectures given to university or community audiences, but her efforts in these areas have subsided in the last while. She no longer feels a strong need to involve herself in these activities, and she has certainly earned the right to do as she pleases. These days, Bobbi enjoys spending time with her children and grandchildren. The former accept her wholeheartedly for who she is, and the latter call her “Bobbi G” – “G” for “grandma.” Bobbi is a pillar of our queer and trans community in Saskatchewan, and Saskatoon in particular, and we are very happy to picture her with her family in the life she has chosen.
Below: Bobbi with her son and grandson, 2001. Right: Bobbi in 2000.
Val & Kat: Humour All the Time, Especially Hard Times
Val and Kat are somewhat younger (fifty-five and fifty-eight respectively) than some of the other folks we interviewed, but they’ve been through a lot in the past few years, including cancer treatment for them both. All the same, they have a positive outlook on life and are full of good humour.
By Gwen Rose
Both use she/her pronouns. Val, who has short hair, told us that since her mastectomy for breast cancer, she often gets mistaken for a man. This has even happened in washrooms. On at least one occasion, she lifted her shirt to show her surgical scars to end the debate.
After one surgery, someone had forgotten to insert a drain. So, prior to the next operation, Val and Kat affixed an “insert drain here” sticker on Val’s chest! They share their sense of humour with everyone, with Val even joking with the surgeon about to perform her mastectomy.
Val has a daughter, Ashley, from a previous relationship. Val describes her relationships in life as having had “a girlfriend, then a husband, girlfriend, girlfriend, boyfriend, baby, husband… then a wife!”
Val and Kat didn’t get together until relatively later in life, as Kat was previously in a twenty-four-year relationship with another woman. When describing her (understandable) wish
Kat (left) and Val, backyard camping, Saskatoon 2024.
that they’d met each other sooner, Val’s characteristic humour shines through. She says, “if we had gotten together earlier in life, we would have found a way to have probably a dozen kids, an acreage, and 42 dogs.” As it is, they’re close with their one and only daughter/step-daughter, Ashley, and have settled for one cat and two dogs. They describe this grouping as “a cat who thinks he’s a dog, two dogs who think they’re people, and a daughter who thinks she’s god.” Kat also has a son from a prior marriage.
Val and her ex-husband, Ashley’s father, remained good friends until he passed away five years after their divorce. Kat later bonded with Ashley about this, because she’d also lost her father at the same age of seventeen.
Val’s remark that “You can fall in love with anybody,” underscores the pair’s philosophy about sexuality and relationships. In Val’s words, “who gives a sh*t what side of the bed that you sleep on? That’s really what it all boils down to, right? It’s not that you’re lesbian or gay or bi or anything else. We believe you don’t fall in love with a gender, you fall in love with a person.”
Kat describes her partner from her previous relationship (before Val) as having become rather controlling over time. Still, as she notes, this can feel normal, especially when this behaviour worsens only gradually as the years pass. Oddly enough, Kat says it was a freak woodcutting accident, when she took a blow to the head, that “knocked some sense into her” and made her realize that she needed to move on. She had only recently married this other woman, for what she now describes as “all the wrong reasons”—a panic-induced rush to the altar based on fears that Stephen Harper’s incoming government
Left: Kat and Val with chosen family, Saskatoon Pride parade, 2024. Right: Val starting chemo again, fall 2024.
Looking at her mom, Val suddenly decided to tell her everything. “And I just started crying, which is odd for me. And she’s like, are you okay? And I said, yeah. And she said, are you in trouble? And I said no. She asked, is it drugs?
might take away the right to gay marriage. Here, we see a bit of commentary from Val and Kat on gay marriage itself. They see it as something to be entered into out of forethought and desire, and not simply because the right has been newly acquired, or is being threatened once again.
Val and Kat are now married themselves. Their dog was the ringbearer at her ceremony! They noted that Kat’s mom came from a family of ten siblings, and as most of them were still alive and well at the time, their wedding was an extremely sweet affair full of very supportive seventy-and-eighty-year-olds. Their wedding was one that happened for all the right reasons!
Val notes that in health care, where she works, being in a queer relationship would have been rarer in the past. Still, these days, it’s no longer a big deal. She has other gay coworkers, and when she refers to Kat, she can say, “my wife. It just rolls off the tongue. I don’t even think about it. It just seems so normal… and I appreciate it.”
In an amusing anecdote, Val and Kat related that Val’s mom would sometimes refer to Kat as Val’s “roommate,” despite knowing full well that the two were in a relationship. In turn, they would jokingly call the man Val’s mom was dating, at the time, as her “roommate”—a hilarious response that likely got the point across.
For all that, Val’s mom was supportive throughout her life. Val told us how, in her younger years, she had been out all night at a party and stopped in
at her mom’s in the morning. Looking at her mom, Val suddenly decided to tell her everything. “And I just started crying, which is odd for me. And she’s like, are you okay? And I said, yeah. And she said, are you in trouble? And I said no. She asked, is it drugs? I said no. And so, she said, well what’s the matter? And I said, ‘Mom, I’m gay.’ And she just took a bite of her sandwich and said, ‘Well, that’s not something I understand, but I’ll make it a point to learn to understand.’” Kat pointed out that this response was from a staunch Catholic woman. Many of us would be so lucky to have a parent who would instantly pledge support on this level.
Val and Kat’s story is too long to tell in full, as they were ready and willing talkers. We can close, in part, by relating a few of their early times together.
Val told us that she recognized Kat’s voice from the radio (where Kat worked for several years, and which had precipitated her move to Saskatoon) when they first met. This was years before they began dating (though Kat doesn’t quite remember this). When they did get together and leaned in for their very first kiss, Kat stumbled, and they fell into each other instead – turning what was supposed to be a “magical” moment into a funny and unforgettable memory.
The women have learned so much from each other. Kat mentioned several times how much she learned from Val about being kind. She has watched Val run out into the street to help a houseless person pack up cans and bottles; or stop to offer help to strangers. Kat highlighted that this was something
I said
no. And
so, she said, well what’s the matter? And I said, ‘Mom, I’m gay.’ And she just took a bite of her sandwich and said, ‘Well, that’s not something I understand, but I’ll make it a point to learn to understand.’”
she would never have learned in her previous relationship, and something that she values so much about who Val is.
Now, in these last few years, they’ve both been through cancer diagnoses. Val’s treatment is still ongoing. Until recently, they were also the primary caregivers for Kat’s mom, who is in her nineties. They have handled it all with grace, compassion, and positivity (as well as humour, even in hard times, and sometimes even dark humour about those same dark times). We hope the future holds many more bright years for the two of them together. It will surely lead to many more laughs to come.
Kat
and Val post-chemo, Christmas 2023.
Mike: Value Your Friendships
By Belinda Betker & Barbara Clanchy
Mike was born in 1951 at St. Paul’s Hospital in Saskatoon. He has lived in Saskatoon for most of his life, except for varying lengths of time in Ottawa, Toronto, Vancouver, Calgary, and Australia.
Growing up, Mike realized he “was different” by the time he was five, but he didn’t have a name for it at that young age. From grade six onwards, he was attracted to some male teachers, and while in elementary school he also had a very strong crush on an older male student. By the time he was in high school he was finally able to understand his feeling of being different. Still, he was very guarded about it and didn't want anyone to know the secret.
Starting at age fifteen, he would go to newsagents that stocked male physique magazines, not that he would usually buy one, but because he hoped he would see some other guy looking at them and make a connection. He became involved in community theater while still in high school, and there were lots of “boys and men of all ages who were like me.” He met more young men at house parties that he probably wasn't of legal age to attend, but he made sure he was there anyway. That was his way of coming out to himself and finding others like him.
When Mike was sixteen, he told his parents he had something important to say. His dad said, “Oh, God, I know what it is. You knocked up a girl?” Mike replied, “No, it's not that. It's kind of almost the opposite.” His mom, who was known for her emotional outbursts, said “Whatever you do, don't tell anyone. They'll beat up your sister.” Mike thought, “Oh, okay, what about me? Like, I guess I'm not worth beating up?”
After that, as far as his family went, his homosexuality was never discussed again for decades, even later when he shared an apartment with his first partner. His mom and grandmother would visit and sometimes have lunch, but “there was nothing
said ever” and eventually “it was just accepted.”
In due course, Mike attended university in Ottawa, and worked for Theatre Canada. After a night class one evening—the night of the legendary Canada-Russia hockey series final, a horrible event happened. He stopped at the pub in the Lord Elgin Hotel, well-known to be “frequented by gay men.” He accepted an invitation to another patron’s apartment where his drink was doped. He lost consciousness. When he finally recovered consciousness as a “John Doe” in Ottawa General Hospital, he learned, from what witnesses had told police, that he’d survived an attempt to be thrown off the tenth-floor balcony by the man he went home with. He was bloodied and bruised, and had “bashed-in teeth.” When his landlady heard of the incident, she immediately asked him to leave the house and find a new place to live. His landlady was also his boss, and she made sure
Below: Mike, aged 6, with Tiny on the steps of his childhood home in the Buena Vista neighborhood of Saskatoon. Facing page: Mike with Archie, at home in 2024.
that his job was also gone. The resulting emotional trauma caused him to drop out of college and return to Saskatoon.
Back in his home town, Mike went to business college and then the U of S, articling to become a chartered accountant—a profession which was not in line with his creative aptitude. After a brief first foray in the travel industry, he became the general manager at Persephone Theatre for a short time, before returning to travel industry management.
In the meantime, Mike had found a new partner, and began a long-term relationship, which eventually evolved into a friendship that continues to this day. Their relationship became a long-distance one as Mike moved on to travel industry positions in Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, and Australia. When he returned to Saskatoon, he and his partner founded a small design and communications business from which they only recently retired. For several years during this time, Mike was seconded to the Saskatoon Symphony Society, where he acted as Marketing Director.
During his early time in Saskatoon, Mike helped found the Saskatoon Zodiac Friendship Society with a group of pioneering gay men and lesbians who recognized the need for a social outlet in the city. Later, he was asked by Gens Helquist (whom he had known from the early days of his coming out) to be a founding co-chair of Gay and Lesbian Health Services (GLHS) with Antonia Botting. GLHS eventually morphed into the The Avenue Community Centre for Gender and Sexual Diversity and then to present-day OUTSaskatoon. Shortly after helping to found GLHS, he began offering the services of the IGLTA (International Gay and Lesbian Travel Association) through the travel agency he managed in Saskatoon.
It was when he joined the board of PLWA Net-
Above: Mike's biological sister, Cheron; Mike, and Mike's birth mother, Lorraine Stewart, at an awards ceremony at Central Urban Métis Federation Inc. (CUMFI). Facing page: 2023 Yorkton Pride - Paul Catt, Laura Budd, Dave Burgoyne, and Mike.
work (Persons Living with AIDS Network) that he first met his birth mother, Métis elder Lorraine Stewart (a cousin of his adoptive mother). They coincidentally joined the board at the same meeting. Mike had always known he was “adopted from somewhere in the family” but hadn’t known details, other than that he was “Indigenous Métis.” He also learned that his half-brother Don had passed away from AIDS before Mike was aware of their family relationship. Mike went from the PLWA Board to the Board of AIDS Saskatoon, where he served for a number of years. In 1996, he was the recipient of the Gay and Lesbian Awards (GALA) Community Service Award “for service to Saskatoon’s Lesbian and Gay community.”
After leaving the Symphony, but while still operating his business with his partner, Mike began attending Coffee Row for Queer Seniors at OUTSaskatoon. The group recognized the need for more representation for seniors in Pride organizing, so they had a member elected to the Board of Saskatoon Pride. Although they had just one voice on the board, change began to happen with Pride.
When the Western Development Museum (WDM) began to act on their newly introduced in-
clusivity initiative, Mike used his connections with the institution (from other communications work) to propose a collaboration. WDM and Saskatoon Pride began hosting an annual event at the WDM Saskatoon, called Spark Your Pride, which focused on local queer history and seniors’ lives. Now with an independent board, Spark Your Pride is still an annual Saskatoon Pride Festival highlight. In 2019, Mike was awarded the OUTSaskatoon OutStanding Award. At the time, Mike joked when accepting that it should have been called the “STILLStanding” Award.
Mike sees this community as having been under a lot of pressure, but “out of pressure, comes these beautiful, brilliant, glittering, little flecks that should be celebrated, because they show the best of all of us.”
Mike’s interest and enjoyment in “just plain organizing” led him to “be in at the beginning of quite a lot of fairly important history of gay Saskatoon.” His vast diversity of skills and work experiences have served our queer community well.
He sees this community as having been under a lot of pressure, but “out of pressure, comes these beautiful, brilliant, glittering, little flecks that should be celebrated, because they show the best of all of us.” He also says, “the opposite side of celebrating is caring and advocating for people whose circumstances haven’t allowed them to thrive,” and he strongly believes that “what we survive helps us thrive.”
In 2023, along with several other queer community leaders, Mike was a recipient of the Queen Elizabeth II Commemorative Medal for Community Service.
Although now faced with serious health concerns, Mike remains active in the queer community, and he has a life that he’s “pretty grateful for.” He has “enough people around to accept me for who I am, what I am, and whatever else… I don’t have to worry.” For him, it’s important “before you try to love somebody else… find a way to love yourself first” and no matter “what other people want you to be … be yourself.” This awareness led him long ago on the path to “treasured friendships,” which continue to sustain him with hope, strength, and resilience in the face of any of life’s challenges.
Barbara & Judy: Sidekicks for Life
by Barbara Clanchy
2004 – A Beginning Story – Crossing That Bridge: Barbara
As we walked along the path, I felt a quiver of carefully concealed excitement. Who was this woman walking next to me, and did we really have anything in common?
I felt comfortable and relaxed with our conversation, other than feeling sixteen again and knowing that I sort-of liked someone who sort-of seemed-tomaybe kind-of like me too. Even my vocabulary had taken several steps back into stammering insecurity!
This was the second time we had met each other, away from the security of the women’s group. I had suggested a walk along the river. We’d crossed over the water once already and were now walking along the path of what I thought of as “the wild side—” the unmanicured, more natural side of the South Saskatchewan river in Saskatoon.
As we neared the train bridge, I had a sud-
den realization. Actually, I had several of them that clambered over each other in my mind, like a pile of puppies, each squirming to get to the warmest spot.
“Were we going to cross the train bridge? I have never crossed it before! In all the years I’ve spent in Saskatoon, I’ve avoided it because I’m scared of crossing it! Oh heck, now what?”
I briefly considered lying and saying I wanted to walk on further, but I really didn’t want to walk the extra kilometers that crossing over the next bridge would entail. It was time to face the music and confess my trepidation.
“I’ve just figured out that there’s a reason I’ve never been on this bridge,” I began, “It freaks me out a bit, being able to see down into the water underneath my feet.”
Judy didn’t laugh at me. She seemed to be understanding, and perhaps even a bit protective. She agreed to walk on the ‘river side’ of the wood-andmetal bridge and offered her arm for much appreciated moral support.
I stepped onto the bridge and walked a few steps, trying not to look down at what was solid wood under my feet, but below which would soon be a deep, flooding, incredible force of water. I took hold of Judy’s arm, my dread drowning out my embarrassment at showing myself to be so
Barbara (left) and Judy in their front yard on their wedding day, August 2012.
irrationally fearful and vulnerable.
I knew logically there was nothing to fear. People; bicycles; and great, heavy, hulking trains thundered across this bridge all day, every day, without incident. The thought of a train roaring past, inches away from me, stopped me in my tracks— that noise and shaking would escalate my fear into downright terror.
I looked behind me and then far ahead, along the line of creosoted ties stretching away in a tidy receding pattern. No trains coming—yet! I took a deep breath, fixed my eyes on the platform at the other end and sped up to get over as fast as possible, Judy keeping pace with me.
My legs trembled as we descended the stairs at the other end, and I held tightly on to the cold, tubular metal railing. I felt a sense of accomplishment at having forced myself to make it across, and looked over at Judy, who smiled at me as we stepped down onto the solid surface of the asphalt path.
There was a calm, easy, certainty about this woman; not the kind of brashness or cockiness that always turned me off, rather just a quiet confidence that was reassuring and very, very endearing.
2024 – Twenty Years Later
We are choosing words together to tell a story about us and our lives. That initial frisson of excitement on our first walk grew into a deep fondness, followed by even stronger feelings, and then that scariest and best of phrases, “I love you!”
Growing Up: Judy
I was born into a farming family near Shaunavon, Saskatchewan, where I went to school. I graduated from Shaunavon High School in 1979. Throughout that whole time, I knew that I was different, but couldn’t put my finger on just why I was not like all the rest of the people in my class.
I moved to Saskatoon and went to the U of S for a few years, and then to Kelsey and graduated
from Renewable Resources. But, in the early 80’s, there were no jobs in that field. So, I moved back to my small town and drove the school bus and ambulance.
I played softball, bowled, and curled in my spare time. I still knew that something was different about me, but being back in my conservative home town, I couldn’t even fathom the fact that I might be “gay.”
After a few years, I went back to school, got a diploma in Computer Aided Drafting technology, and moved back to Saskatoon. Once there, I decided to continue towards my university degree (which I still haven’t finished).
During this time, I met some very interesting and supportive people. One in particular is now my very best friend. She knew before I did, that I was, in fact, a lesbian. Once I figured that out, things changed for me.
I was in search of community when I went to the Gay and Lesbian Health Services (GLHS) women’s group for the first time. I spotted Barbara and felt an immediate connection. I decided that I would like to get to know her more, and well, the rest is history. Barbara sometimes teases me that she had to wait for twenty years for me to come out.
Growing Up: Barbara
I grew up in my family of Mum, Dad, three brothers and one sister. We lived in Hampshire in the south of England, and it was there, when I was seventeen, that I first met Larry, a Canadian man from a Quaker family who had moved to England as a teenager. We later married and lived in Okehampton in Devon, England.
By the time I was twenty-three and our children were aged four, three, and one, I realized that I was a lesbian. ‘Coming out’ to everyone at once was a terrifying thought, so I initially only came out to the people to whom it really mattered, and who I thought might understand. I gradually came out to
others if and when I felt safe and comfortable about their possible reactions.
After a lot of soul-searching, Larry and I decided to move to Canada in 1982. After several months in Canada, due to our level of unrest, and increasing arguments, it was time for me to leave the marriage. We were able to stay friends though, and co-parented our kids in ways that I am proud of.
The Saskatoon house my kids and I moved into was very close to a small hall where women’s dances were held once a month. My kids and I would attend these regularly. There was some muttering about kids being there, but I was used to all-ages community dances in England. I always said that if the dances were too weird for my kids, they would also have been too weird for me.
In March 1983, I met a clown in a bar. I was fascinated by her enthusiastic description of her work, and she offered to call me when the next series of clown workshops would occur.
Two days later, when I got home from my first day at my Women in Trades class, there was a message for me. The first workshop was happening that night. I screwed up all kinds of courage and made it to the workshop. I was hooked from the very start.
My clown name stuck as Ara because I was always having to correct people who called me just ‘Barb.’ I worked
at festivals, libraries, and schools, at a few birthday and Christmas parties (my least favourite gigs), and produced and performed a show for the Saskatoon Fringe Festival.
A librarian once complimented me after a show. He said, “Five minutes with nothing but one red balloon.” It was the first five minutes of a forty-five-minute show, and I have always appreciated his words.
After twenty years of raising my kids, and working as a clown, I was hired as the Volunteer Co-ordinator at Gay and Lesbian Health Services. I also led the Women’s Group. One Tuesday evening, Judy made her “scary walk” down the long hallway to attend the group, and we met for the first time.
Judy and Barbara on a Pride-decorated tricycle in the Pride parade, June 2017. In 2018, they upgraded it to look bubble-powered with a bubble machine on the roof!
Getting Together: Barbara
I was not that tuned-in to subtle signals, like the ‘accidental’ knee-touch under a table; or even less subtle ones, like the day Judy turned up to my house with some flowerpots in the trunk of her car because she was ‘in the neighbourhood’ and knew I needed some pots for giving plants to other people. I have to say, persistence was her middle name. I finally “got it” and we became a couple.
For the first seven years of our relationship, we were the antithesis of needing the “Lesbian Second Date Moving Service” (as the joke went in queer circles of that era). We each owned a very small house, with no room to fit another person and all their stuff.
A common conversation between us at ten o’clock in the evening was to ask who had clean clothes for the morning – it was one way we decided whose house we would sleep at that night.
Eventually, we decided to buy a house together. Judy sold her little house, and I remortgaged mine, and fixed it up to be a rental property. Judy’s house sold in nine days, and we found a house to buy three weeks after her possession date.
Soon after, on our way back from a trip in the country, Judy “popped the suggestion.” I thought she was joking at first and laughed. I had to work hard to redeem myself by “popping the question” to her a week later – we had a meal in a nice restaurant, and even a ride in a horsedrawn carriage!
I have never regretted us following up on her suggestion.
2012 – Our Wedding: Judy
Our wedding was a melding of families—our biological ones and our chosen ones. People from many different communities were a part of, or attended, our wedding—a melting pot of personalities and backgrounds, so to speak.
Our goal for our wedding was for both us and our guests to have fun. We were blessed to have
many family and friends who were willing to chip in to help us. We didn’t have to worry about things like mowing the lawn, ironing our clothes, decorating the hall, cooking the meal, providing favourite appetizers, and cleaning up at the end of the night.
Our vows included promising to remain goofy to make each other laugh. That promise has stood us in good stead.
My welcome to the family became more of a roast of Barbara by her kids and brothers. I was offered a lot of really good advice from them that still holds true, like “if you want Mum to do a job, pick up the tool, look pathetic and she will take over and do
Judy (left) and Barbara on their wedding day, with their best friends as their ‘Best Women’ behind them, Sheila (left) and Bonnie.
it.” That works to this day!
Everyone had a very enjoyable day, and our families melded together nicely. One of the grandsons went up to my sister’s table and introduced himself, saying “Well, I guess we are related now!”
We’d asked three women friends who play in a band to perform a couple of songs for the dance part of the evening, and they would not stop! They played the whole night – what a wonderful treat! The song, “Chocolate Jesus” by Tom Waits was a big hit.
2024 – Barbara and Judy
Life has been good. We are happy in the home we purchased together, and the kids and our friends visit often. During Covid, we made an oasis in our backyard so we could host our “bubble.” We love our
oasis, especially now that Barbara has had hip surgery and can bend down again.
Barbara is retired and Judy is retiring fairly soon, so we are fixing a few things so we can stay in our house for as long as we want to.
Barbara is busy with her volunteer work, art, and writing. Judy still works fulltime on work-related activities. She is also making “a list” for when her retirement becomes a reality.
We no longer have that ten-o’clock nightly conversation about where we are going to sleep. In fact, we are often asleep by ten, so it’s just as well. We feel very lucky—living in a cosy home, with our kitty Suzy—among our various circles of family and friends.
“More bubbles!” Judy and Barbara in their back garden. Wedding day, August 2012.
Deb & Lee: Home!
by Gwen Rose
While some of our stories are about individuals, even when we interviewed couples, the story of Deb and Lee feels too intertwined to separate. In listening to their stories, it was their shared life together that emerged, more than any individual story of their youth, or their lives before they met.
They both use ‘gay’ to describe themselves. Their romance emerged after Lee, a “young whippersnapper from Toronto,” moved to Saskatoon and worked at the same place as Deb. Lee and Deb were both attracted to each other. As they related through various anecdotes, it was bound to lead somewhere, and lead somewhere it did.
Just like many other romances, things were complicated. Deb’s ex-husband had been diagnosed with Stage 4 brain cancer several months before, and Deb had taken him in to take care of him. For the first several months of their relationship, being with Deb also meant that Lee helped care for Deb’s ex-husband.
Their first dates were often coffee and people-watching at the Living Room on Broadway Avenue in Saskatoon. Their love deepened slowly but surely,
built on more than just a foundation of mutual attraction. Lee talked about Deb as being extremely funny and supportive of her at work (although they didn’t work together for too long). Lee describes their love as “the best thing that ever happened to me.” Deb agrees, saying her “heart skipped a beat” for Lee. Other little details stand out, too. For example, Deb paid attention to who Lee’s favourite author was during a shopping trip, then remembered to buy her a book by that author as a gift soon after.
These two women portray a picture of rock-solid, lifelong love. Although they’ve faced challenges,
Lee (left) and Deb, 2023 Fall Leaves Boat Cruise, Muskoka, Ontario.
those challenges haven’t been in their relationship with each other. For example, Deb talked about her father’s homophobia, and how he rejected her after she came out to him. His complete silence and refusal to engage with her at a funeral, later on, hurt her deeply. Deb describes a somewhat strained relationship with her brothers—conservative men with misogynist views that were likely exacerbated by her queerness.
Deb’s ex-husband was a more positive example of straight men: when she finally came out to him, he accepted her for who she was, and accepted that it meant the end of their relationship as well. Her ex-husband did not try to disrupt her relationships with her children, and Deb continues to have strong relationships with her adult children to this day.
Deb and Lee also talked about their love for their grandchildren, and the difficulties that arose, not with Deb’s son, but with his ex-wife who, after their separation, kept the grandchildren from seeing Deb and Lee, precisely because they were gay. The meaningful relationships Deb and Lee had fostered with love and care for their grandchildren was taken away from them. Even after those children became
adults, it was difficult to reconnect after so many years apart.
Homophobia cuts deep in family life, but is also present in other areas of life. Lee noted that she is always out in workplace situations, and that this has led to less trouble or conflict with the passing of time and society’s improving anti-discrimination laws. For Deb, working at a care home, there are still situations where she keeps that part of her life hidden. A favorite client of hers, an older woman, always asks to meet Deb’s “husband,” but since Deb’s ‘husband’ is Lee, a woman, this meeting can never happen.
Although Deb and Lee say things have changed and improved in society over time, they are cautious in the rural area where they live on an acreage in Saskatchewan. It is a relatively religious community, so they don’t hold hands or kiss in public there. It’s a reminder about how conservative and/or religious views still perpetuate homophobia and can impact the lives of queer individuals and couples.
Deb and Lee on an Alaska cruise, 2009.
Ziplining in Juneau Alaska, 2009.
Still, Deb and Lee’s story is, by and large, a happy one. A favourite memory of theirs is the day they got their house—they were so proud to be where they both really wanted to be. Another highlight was their Alaskan cruise where it was—“just nice to be away from everybody and have time together.”
When the two of them married, it seemed to “legitimize” their relationship in the eyes of Lee’s mother, who even became “friends” with Deb afterwards. It’s not that they married for legitimization— Deb said she “enjoyed living in sin” before they got married!
They didn’t tell each other what they would wear that day—Lee was surprised seeing Deb in a skirt for the ceremony. As that was something that had never happened before, it was like Deb was dressing “in drag.”
They enjoy spending time “with our friends who are family” and they like to spontaneously try new things, like driving to small towns to check out a bakery or exploring different places when they’re “in the city.”
Deb and Lee talk about being each other’s “safe person.” No matter where they are, “they’re home” when they’re together. “A lot of joy is just being together and just always working and communicating together.” They have deep mutual caring and respect for each other. They say, “it's always been easy between us,” meaning they “almost never” fight or argue too seriously. Instead, they “both talk things out…so we don’t kind of go to bad places.”
The most important other thing is that they tell each other “at least five, six times a day that we love each other.”
Here’s to a lifetime of love together, Deb and Lee!
Lee and Deb's backyard wedding, Saskatoon, 2013.
Saskatchewan Roughrider's event, 2020.
Norman & Calvin: Life is too Short to Pretend
by Gwen Rose
Norman admits there was at least one thing he wished he’d known when he was younger—that a man could fall in love with another man. It could have changed the course of his life to realize this sooner, especially as, growing up, he “always knew he was different” from his brothers. He came fully to terms with being gay by age fifteen (but sometimes knowing that you are gay, queer, trans, etc., doesn’t mean knowing that it is okay—that you can have the same kinds of lives and loves that heterosexual or cisgender people have).
Norman’s partner of twenty-one years, Calvin, passed away in summer 2024, but when we interviewed the couple earlier that spring, Calvin didn’t necessarily express the same sentiments as Norman. He had known since he was a teenager that he was “looking to fall in love with another man.” He knew that he was gay from a young age, including having the words for it. This precise knowledge was gleaned from a combination of his voracious reading habits and the usual slurs heard on the playground –words that he looked up at home in the encyclopedia. Calvin wished he’d
acted on his feelings sooner and taken a chance at coming out earlier, at least with a partner, if not in public. Instead of jumping at the chance for romance when other men “came on to” him, he worried about the consequences of being outed at work.
Calvin noted, “things could have been different,”—but this could have gone any number of ways because the couple lived through the years of the AIDS crisis. Norman and Calvin frankly discussed the effects of the “HIV-AIDS panic,” which had Calvin feeling legitimately afraid. After the two men became a couple, they got tested together just to verify their
Right: Calvin with Missy at the acreage near Saskatoon, 2005. Facing page: Norman with the couple's first calf and first goats, 2006.
respective statuses before embarking on a monogamous relationship. Author’s note: all partners, queer or straight, monogamous or polyamorous, should do this!
Norman had been in a nineteen-year secret affair with a man. Still, after a health scare at age forty, he decided he was just going to “live his life” from then on; life was too short to pretend any longer. It was after a seven-year relationship with another man, who unfortunately passed away, that Norman met Calvin.
Calvin, for his part, said that, “the idea of marriage to a woman scared me to death. I used to have recurring nightmares about standing at the altar to be married and panicking, and I’d wake up covered in sweat. Nothing against women… but they’re just not for me! I had one sexual encounter with a woman, and I couldn't do it.” Despite
his self-knowledge, Calvin wasn’t quite able to take the leap to come out for many years. When family members would ask him when he was going to “bring a girl home,” or get married, he would just “shrug it off and avoid the question.”
Eventually, after living in Saskatoon for many years, Calvin noticed Norman at a bar—he thought he was “handsome” and “fit.” Fortified by a few drinks, and seeing Norman was about to leave, he invited him to his place for a drink. This bold move led to them talking until four in the morning, but Norman finally had to leave to go home and let his dog out of the house! They planned a date for the following Friday, but by Thursday, Calvin couldn’t wait any longer and invited Norman over a day early. The rest, as they say, is history.
Norman had finally come out to his family following the death of his previous partner: they’d known his partner well, but hadn’t known that he was Norman’s partner. The day after his unfortunate passing, Norman’s mom was at his house and, in
his words, “getting in my way,” and he just blurted out that he was gay. She took it well, though, and passed the news on to his siblings, after which “all was actually quite fine.”
Calvin had remained closeted right up until the beginning of his relationship with Norman, but as it was already “into the early 2000s,” he said that it was “easy” to come out, both at work and with family. He no longer cared what anyone else thought—he was going to live his life. He didn’t say how this news was received, but as the pair talked about some of the details of their years together, it was clear that this didn’t matter much either way. They were happy, and ‘being out,’ as they had been for twenty-one years, suited them.
They met many others in queer communities and in numerous different settings: Divas nightclub, openly gay rodeos held in Alberta, and even a certain Mexican resort they said was well known as a “queer Mecca” (complete with drag queens). For a while, they lived in Saskatoon, where there had been a “little club at one time” that they enjoyed. There were also camping trips to Emma Lake, with or without other gay couples.
After living in Saskatoon, and because they loved animals, they owned an acreage together for many years before health struggles forced them to sell. In recent years, rather than the nightclub
scene, their social life shifted to potlucks and informal gatherings—after all, they said, going out became more difficult as they got older because “nothing ever happened before 11:30 in the evening!” Calvin said that for a while, there was a bar they would frequent “where you could go at five o’clock in the afternoon,” but it only “lasted about five years.” Still, despite changing locations, scenery, and habits, they never lost their sense of community, even when the Covid-19 pandemic made getting together with others difficult.
We asked the pair how and when they knew they were in love with each other. Norman said that “it took Calvin longer,” but one day, “they just looked at each other,” and Calvin told him he loved him. They didn’t feel a need to get married; neither one of them thought it was important. They were happy to see gay marriage legalized in Canada and proud of the work that people did to make it happen, but they themselves didn’t feel compelled to get married or elope. Not getting married didn’t devalue their love an ounce—their love lasted right until the end. We were very sorry to hear of Calvin’s passing this year. Thank you to Norman for still allowing us to share their story.
Calvin and Norman on their first vacation together in Mexico, 2006.
Calvin and Norman at a rodeo in Mexico, 2006.
Share your Story in Folklore Magazine
About Folklore Magazine
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Regular print editions of Folklore are published four times a year. We have an online blog of selected stories from the print edition at www.skhistory.ca.
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• “People stories” – this includes stories of events, daily life, family, humour, or personal/lived experiences that share what it is like to live in this place. These can be from a person’s own experiences. They could also be a story told to the author by a family or community member (with permission to share).
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Please email submissions, preferably in a Word document, to submissions@shfs.ca. You can also submit by mail to our office at the address on the back cover.
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Moneca & Lori: Sometimes You Just Have to Eat the Bologna
by Gwen Rose
Lori only came out to her family after she started dating Moneca, her first significant relationship with another woman. The two were friends first, meeting at a Wyrd Sisters concert, though their paths had crossed before in minor ways. Moneca remembered seeing Lori some years prior at a business that helped with resumes, when Lori was getting assistance with spelling and grammar (something she describes as a bit of an Achilles’ heel for her). Moneca wanted to spruce up her resume so she could get back to the job market after years as a stay-at-home mom.
At the Wyrd Sisters concert, Lori and her friends decided to challenge Moneca and her group to a game of pool, and fun was had by all. No one exchanged numbers, but Moneca noted Lori’s friend referred to her as “downtown Lori Brown.” This stuck with Moneca. It was an entire year before they would meet again in 2002—at the same place, and for the same reason playing pool at another Wyrd Sisters concert! Lori’s friends weren’t feeling well, and “ditched” her, but this gave her and Moneca time to talk. Moneca, who was already in a relationship, got Lori’s number specifically so she could give it to her friend Belinda, who was single at the time. Indeed, Lori and Belinda did meet and hang out together. To this day, Moneca and Lori humorously say, “Whenever anybody asks about us, Belinda will always say she dated Lori first!”
asked her out. Lori says she “knew on the first date when I asked her out—which was actually really challenging because I would never ask anyone else out, it pushed all my boundaries—but I knew Moneca was the one, and I went home after our first date and I wrote a card to myself that said, ‘I'm gonna marry this person.’ Then I put the card away, and dug it out five years later and gave it to Moneca…but I knew right from the get go.”
I knew Moneca was the one, and I went home after our first date and I wrote a card to myself that said, ‘I'm gonna marry this person.’
When Lori came out to her family and everyone else, it was a big step. She always knew she was a lesbian (the word she uses for her sexuality she recalled being in elementary school and noticing a lady painter and finding her very hot, even then but she also “knew it wasn’t okay” (that is, that she would be judged for it, and should conceal it). It’s possible she learned that from her family, or from society in general, but concealing her sexuality was certainly what she did until “I met Moneca. And then, when I had finally found someone I knew I was going to be with; knew I was going to spend my life with, it was worth the risk; it was worth telling my parents. I did know there was going to be consequences, but also that it was going to be worth it.”
Through the time that Lori and Belinda were ‘dating,’ Lori also got to know Moneca very well. She came to admire Moneca’s character, particularly her kindness, and the way she treated others with respect. In time, when Moneca was single again, Lori
For Lori, consequences included estrangement from most of her family and a long and difficult period before reconciling with her parents. Even though Lori suspected that her parents “sort of always knew,” they did not easily adapt to Lori’s new identity or her relationship with Moneca. They even declined to attend the couple’s wedding.
Still, Lori is keen to note that outside of family
Moneca and Lori's wedding, May 10, 2008.
Top to bottom: Brittney, William, Moneca, Lori, Kyla.
circumstances, she has suffered very little discrimination in other aspects of her life since coming out at twenty-seven. A notable exception happened by way of her relationship with Moneca.
Moneca has three children from her previous marriage to a man. Lori and Moneca got together when the youngest of Moneca’s children was only four years old; so, Lori has been around for most of the children’s lives. This included open knowledge of the couple’s relationship at the children’s various schools. These were Catholic schools, because Moneca’s ex-husband was Catholic. Indeed, Moneca herself had converted to Catholicism at age 17 before marrying her high school sweetheart, the aforementioned father of her children. For many years, there was no issue whatsoever, until a particular parent-teacher interview for their youngest child.
Lori had already been contacting the school as a guardian, on behalf of Moneca and the children’s father, to arrange such matters “for a number of years. And all of a sudden, I got this woman, a new young English teacher who turned out to be incred-
ibly homophobic, who said, ‘I'm sorry, but as you're not the primary parent, I can't deal with you.’” That didn’t sit right with the couple, who said that so many other teachers at the school, who had known them for years, “loved us. And so, we carried on and we made it through the interviews. And then we met with the principal.”
Moneca says that Lori “saw my mother bear come out” on Lori’s behalf because the principal tried to stand by the teacher and what she had done. “And I said, ‘Lori has been the parent of these children for eleven years, and she has always, always, been able to work with the school and arrange anything. And she's listed in the paperwork.’ And the principal said, ‘Well, we couldn't find her name. She's not authorized by you.’ And he was defending this new, young, very upset English teacher, about how ‘it's not right’ [that is, our relationship wasn’t right].”
Moneca shared that “another teacher we knew very closely went on to tell us that ‘you girls raised a kerfuffle, let me tell ya,’ because this teacher had lost it so badly that they had an emergency meeting with the principal and all of the teachers to talk about it. And our friend, the other teacher, said, ‘This is stupid. You've known these girls for years.’ She advocated for us, as did other teachers. But the principal was all about policy. And when our friend told me that, and that this young woman had made such a stink, I was very upset because I thought there's lots of queer families bringing kids up in this world and this girl needs to figure this out.”
“So, I had cornered the principal, but then he was just making more and more excuses to everything I said, you know, in the relationships we've built … and I said ‘you know us and you know our family, and your teachers have never given us grief,’ and then he said, ‘Well, I couldn't find your signature authorizing Lori to be a person who can communicate with these teachers.’ I grabbed a f*cking napkin that was sitting on his desk, signed it and said, ‘It's authorized!’ And I don't normally get like that. I was like, ‘Is that good enough? Do you need another signature?’ And he said, ‘No, no, no, that’s fine!’ I was
“2 years deep” – Lori (seated) with Moneca, 2005.
like, ‘I don't want Lori facing this kind of sh*t. Ever. Again.’”
It is a lengthy anecdote but worth quoting nearly in full. Lori stressed how well the previous years had gone, and indeed, the years after (albeit outside of the school system). That had been their last parent-teacher interview ever. They raised a fuss more to make a point than because of any expected future hassle for themselves with that teacher or the school.
Moneca, for her part, also noted that she’s faced very little outright discrimination in her life, even though, after coming out at age twenty-eight and getting divorced, she became very involved in Saskatoon’s queer scene. In fact, some of the hassles she did face were from within the community itself. She was criticized for being a feminine-presenting person with long hair who didn’t fit the era’s conception of what a lesbian should look like!
Today, Moneca identifies mostly as lesbian but also sometimes uses the word “queer” for reasons that date back to those times. Back then, reclaiming the word “queer” was a point of deliberate intention for many in the scene, “teaching people that it's not the word. It's how you're using it and all that stuff.” She also calls herself a “lady gay” sometimes, in humorous solidarity with male gays—just for fun.
Moneca helped organize Saskatoon’s very first Pride Parade in 2001. She was, in her words, “swimming in community,” and even “fighting in community,” via the aforementioned conflicts within the scene itself about lesbian image. Regardless, Moneca stuck with it. During this time, she also fought with the city to have the Pride flag raised, something she describes as almost “sacrilegious at that time.” So many things have changed since then.
But it was not during this time, or even during any part of her public life with Lori, that Moneca experienced her most harrowing incident of discrimination. Instead, she recounts how, almost randomly, in the early 2010s, at a restaurant along Spadina Crescent in Saskatoon, she was accosted by a total
stranger in broad daylight. She is quite sure that the intense verbal heckling (delivered by a very large man inches from her face, so intimidatingly that she didn’t dare respond in any way) would have escalated into violence if not for the eventual reaction of another stranger. A man holding a hamper of food some distance behind her dropped the hamper and stepped to her side in solidarity, causing the instigator to walk away without uttering another word. No one else on the busy sidewalk patio said anything or interfered in any way. Moneca says that it was only after the man had walked away that she “sh*t her pants” (figuratively, not literally) as the terrifying fear of the incident caught up to her. The incident was entirely motivated by homophobia: the man “clocked” her as a lesbian and took out his anger on her for her perceived audacity of loving women and not men.
Similarly, some men at a hotel in Halifax heckled her for her queer appearance (ironically, while she was there with a queer research team who were considering the hotel as a potential site for a future queer conference). The men then pursued her through the hallways. She feared, again, that violence would have erupted if she had not been able to elude them and get to her room without the men
Moneca, Lori & Abbi – Saskatoon Pride Parade.
being able to tell which room was hers.
These incidents are recounted not because harassment was a feature of Lori or Moneca’s lives, as the incidents themselves are isolated and sporadic. Yet they also remind us that harassment and the danger of violence IS present in the lives of queer people. Otherwise-happy tales of romantic love should not paint such a rosy picture of the queer past (or present) that we forget how quickly the hate of strangers can lead to unsettling, traumatic, and potentially outright harmful incidents.
Still, Moneca has enjoyed the love of her community and her family since coming out. She described her childhood as somewhat challenging for a variety of reasons. These challenges shaped her into the kind of child who always wanted to get things right; the “easy” kid who went on to be the first to graduate and the first to get married before having children (a standard that was more important then, than it is now). Moneca feels this attitude, combined with unprocessed childhood trauma, led her to Catholicism and her first marriage. She had three children, and ten years passed before she came to terms with her genuine attraction to women. It was after the birth of one of her children that her trauma “came home to roost,” but then she took the time to work through it all and to discover herself: her “strength,” her “power,” and her sense of who she really was (and is).
And so, she came out and got divorced. Her own family was immediately accepting. They even celebrated her divorce as it somewhat humanized her in their eyes; the “perfect” child finally coming down to earth. They were mostly joking on that account; her queerness never affected her relationships with any of them at all.
Moneca assumed, though, that she would have to cut off ties with her ex-husband’s family, given their staunch Catholicism. She recounts how, instead, her “mother-in-law was devastated that I cut her out of my life. And she tracked me down, literally, saw me coming out of a building and jumped
out of her car and ran to me crying saying ‘You’re my daughter, no matter what,’ and she even started advocating for the queer community.” As it turns out, Moneca’s ex-husband was also advocating on her behalf with family, including with their children. Moneca describes him as embracing her queerness, at least in part, because it meant that their divorce “was not his fault.” Still, regardless of the motivation, his entire family remained close with Moneca, including even her once-homophobic ex-father-inlaw. To this day, her ex-husband’s entire family will show up to birthday or anniversary celebrations!
Winning Lori’s parents over was harder. Moneca felt that she had all the ‘checkboxes’ for being the kind of person Lori’s mother did not want her to be with: “I was Catholic. I was divorced. I had children. I was overweight. I was a woman.” So, things were off to a rocky start. Still, both women honed in on one incident that began the process of changing their relationship with Lori’s parents for the better. Lori insisted that Moneca tell the story.
Moneca said, “I had to drop something off at Lori’s parents' house, and it was the first time I was actually going to be at their home by myself. My intention was to walk up to the door, hand them the envelope, and leave, because it had been really obvious that Lori’s mom was very uncomfortable with
Lori & Moneca – New Year's Day winter walk, 2018.
They really just wanted to know my intentions with their daughter. And then I realized, they're invested. This could be a really good thing, right? But I have to eat the bologna.
me. Now, we had been dating for well over a year and I'd never been alone with them. We had bought our house together even.”
“But they invited me in and I was like, ‘I really have to go,’ but they said ‘oh, but we made you lunch.’ And okay, so I was vegetarian for a number of years, then I kind of slipped away from that, but the one thing that still makes me cringe is bologna. And lo and behold, they made me their best lunch, in their eyes, truly… and it was bologna. They made me barbecued bologna and I can't remember what else was there because I was so terrified to eat bologna. And so, I was like, Oh my god. So, the three of us sat down and I was horrified and she brought me my lunch. They really just wanted to know my intentions with their daughter. And then I realized they're
invested. And I realized, this could be a really good thing, right? But I have to eat the bologna. Because I don't want to offend her. This is an opportunity I do not want to miss out on. I ate the bologna in these very small bites and we talked probably an hour and a half, and that was really good.”
As it turns out, this was indeed a turning point. Over the years, Lori and Moneca even took care of Lori’s parents through some ailments and difficulties. After Lori’s mom passed away, her father apologized for missing their wedding. Reconciliation, change, and growth are possible sometimes you just have to eat the bologna.
Moneca never wanted to get married again — she’d done that once, and she wasn’t going to do it again! But Lori had written that note to herself after their first date (the note she gave Moneca five years later). She knew she wanted to marry Moneca. “It was important to me, I wanted the ring.” Moneca said, half-jokingly but somewhat seriously, that Lori “wore her down.” They’d been living together for five years; they had a house together; children that they considered theirs together this was a strong relationship. But marriage was important to Lori, and so they did indeed get married, and so they remain.
Wedding ceremony, May 10, 2008: "Got ya now, Lori!" Moneca (left), Jan Henrikson (officiant), Lori.
Betty & Veronica: Breakfast with Betty &
Veronica by Gwen Rose
Veronica always knew that she liked girls, even from around the time she was eight. At nine, she was involved with an eleven-year-old girl which just confirmed what she already knew. She lived with confidence and never questioned her self-knowledge. It was enough that her parents never questioned it either; they just accepted it. Still, convention was convention: born in 1942 in Toronto, “when it was time” Veronica got married to a guy—"just like everybody else.” That marriage lasted eight years, during which she had two children. But, at some point, Veronica knew it was time for her to simply live as she’d always known herself to be: free of labels, not someone who called herself “gay,” “lesbian,” or anything else, but at the same time, inarguably a woman who loved women, which was what she was going to do.
It wasn’t easy to leave her marriage not because of any residual feelings or doubts, but just because it was hard for a woman to leave a marriage at that time (the late 60s / early 70s). But she had skills and had always worked, and her confidence and belief in herself carried her through. She was going to be herself, and if this meant bucking the convention she had earlier deigned to accept by getting married, then buck convention she would—but she wasn’t going to label it.
Veronica never really played by the rules. By the late ‘80s, when she met Betty, she even had a reputation among Saskatoon’s women’s community as a bit of a “roundabout” – not someone to be tied down or tied to convention. But then she met Betty, who was “wonderful.” This was different, and it was going to last.
Betty, born and raised in Saskatchewan, also married a man and had two kids of her own. But, she never really questioned this pattern for quite a long time.
A pivotal moment in Betty’s life came at a conference in Buffalo, New York. Free from the constraints of home, marriage, and domesticity, she ended up in a rather flirty conversation with another woman named Peggy. Betty didn’t think anything of it—but Peggy was a little wiser in the ways of the world. More to the point, Peggy was willing to tell Betty what she felt she was seeing: that although Betty thought she was a woman just having a “friendly” conversation with another woman, it seemed to be more than that. Peggy challenged Betty to ask herself if a “friendly conversation” was all that was happening.
That situation was enough to shake Betty up, and was a catalyst for future change. When she returned home to Saskatoon, she sought advice from a friend and mentor. There were no labels of any kind mentioned, just as in her previous conversation with Peggy. Rather, it was a question of who she was attracted to, and what type of person she wanted to love.
Who she wanted to love, would, of course, become clear. Her friend introduced her to Liz and Barb, two women who were quite open about being a couple.
Betty fell into a new world. She was almost forty at the time and finding herself extricated from a marriage of eighteen years, supporting herself (and her children) after having been a homemaker, and navigating the world of work for the first time; the last thing that Betty wanted was to be an activist like Liz and Barb. It simply wasn’t her way of life. This was exactly where Veronica came into the picture.
Liz and Barb introduced them, and the rest took care of itself. Veronica told Betty that they were just normal people, living normal lives. Their concerns were like the concerns of others: working, raising
their children, paying their bills. The only difference was who they “went to bed with at night,” which, as it turned out, happened to be each other.
This worked for Betty, as it had for Veronica: having a sense of quiet authenticity; confident, but not brash. An identity never denied, but also never shouted out loud. A lot of the people in their circle at the time, also in their forties, and not, as they say, getting any younger, were also over and done with their activist phases. Betty never denied that there was a time and place for activism. Nor did she ever feel that their friends Liz and Barb should be other than what they wanted to be, in their own, more open, and activist way. It simply wasn’t Betty’s way, and with Veronica, it didn’t have to be.
Ontario
In 1995, Betty got a job at a University in Ontario, and she and Veronica moved east. There, Veronica opened a bed and breakfast. Each was certainly well-suited to their respective calling. Ontario life suited them as a couple, established, as it was, after all their children had grown up, moved out, and set up their own lives. The two women are so different in some ways—Betty is detail-oriented, whereas Veronica never stressed or kept track about the details. Still, Veronica ran a successful business and somehow always made it work.
Betty noted that the human resources department at the university, even in those times, was fully prepared from the very beginning to accommodate her female partner with benefits, etc., so Betty didn’t have to struggle with coming out or legitimizing her relationship. Betty often took Veronica with her to social functions, and the women continued their lifelong practice of avoiding a label for themselves and their relationship—they were who they were, they were obviously partners, and that was that.
That was something Betty reaffirmed in conversation with a male colleague of hers, Dan.
Catsi, Vintage Ladies in Love, posted March 4, 2017, Tumblr, accessed October 29, 2024, https://catsi.tumblr.com/ post/158003625822/vintageladies-in-love. Used with permission.
By the time they got legally married, it was just a matter of convention. As far as they’re concerned, the thirty-five years they’ve been together has been “wedded bliss.”
Fernando Ruiz, Betty & Veronica…The Kiss, posted December 1, 2018, private commission, accessed October 29, 2024, https:// fernandoruizeverybody.com/betty-veronica-the-kiss/ Used with permission.
He was upset that another male colleague, quite obviously and openly gay, hadn’t “come out” as such through any formal statement. Betty asked Dan if he had been forced to “come out” as straight. When he said, “No, of course not,” she asked him why it should be any different for gay people. Betty defended her gay colleague’s right to live his life the way he
wanted without making any statements, as this was how she and Veronica also navigated their life.
Another female colleague at the university also had a female partner. The two couples became friends, along with many other gay and lesbian people, but they also had plenty of straight friends. All that really mattered was being accepted for who they were, and they had no trouble finding people who did so. This was more important for Betty and Veronica than seeking out specifically gay or lesbian circles—Yonge Street in Toronto was fun to visit, but not vital to their sense of community, or to how and with whom they established friendships.
Veronica also found lifelong friends from many different walks of life through her bed and breakfast business. One weekend, she had to travel back to Saskatchewan for a family matter. Betty covered for her, hosting a couple of women who were staying there prior to Veronica’s return. This experience highlighted the contrast between Veronica warm and gregarious, friendly and welcoming; and Betty, by no means unfriendly or unwelcoming, but quiet and calm compared to how Veronica “lit up the room.” The ladies told them, “There’s breakfast with Betty … and then there’s breakfast with Veronica!”
Wedded Bliss
By the time they got legally married, it was just a matter of convention. As far as they’re concerned, the thirty-five years they’ve been together has been “wedded bliss.” They’d had a commitment ceremony of their own in 1995, officiated by none other than Liz and Barb.
Legal marriage comes with rights and benefits, of course; and simplifies questions such as next-ofkin. They just felt that since most everybody else was
Saskatchewan is their community again, and when Betty has Veronica by her side, and vice-versa, nothing else matters.
already married, and now that they legally could, it was their turn, so why not?
Both women have had ups and downs with family; some accepting, some struggling to do so, and some even outright rejecting them. Despite this, their commitment to family is why they returned to Saskatchewan. They know that rejection or stigma does not define them, and they’ve experienced it only rarely.
Their constant refrain is one of normalcy—they simply live their lives and relate with others in normal ways, and this has continued into their retirement and older age. They’re not Grand Marshals in the Pride parade, and they don’t wish to be. Rather, they socialize with other seniors, and while they’re still open about who they are, they don’t make a point of ‘putting it out there’ either.
Biesiuss, Betty And VeronicaKissing Under The Moonlight, posted Sept 17, 2013, commission for mandygirl78, accessed October 29, 2024, https://www.deviantart.com/ mandygirl78/art/Betty-AndVeronica-Kissing-Under-TheMoonlight-400969703. Used with permission.
Saskatchewan is their community again, and when Betty has Veronica by her side, and vice-versa, nothing else matters. They’re so different in many ways, yet united by their very similar outlooks… and they plan on staying that way.
Spark Your Pride - Culture, History, and Arts Organization of Saskatchewan Inc.
Spark Your Pride - Culture, History, and Arts Organization of Saskatchewan Inc. is a registered non-profit organization, dedicated to serving the unique needs of Saskatchewan’s older (55+) 2SLGBTQ+ individuals and community. We raise awareness and celebrate our lives and experiences through affirming activities that express and preserve our accomplishments. We also create opportunities to share our history and experiences with 2SLGBTQ+ youth, and develop intergenerational relationships for mutual support. To this end, we host an annual event during Pride Week in Saskatoon – showcasing queer artists, offering workshops, providing a queer-friendly marketplace, presenting specific displays of our queer Saskatchewan history, and wrapping up the day with a celebration dinner and entertainment featuring queer artists and performers.
Throughout the year we strive to support community-building activities through social events, including dances, in order to reduce social isolation of seniors by providing safe spaces for the community to come together.
We engage in various research projects to document our past, including progressive changes to the Saskatchewan Human Rights Code and the Saskatchewan Marriage Act, to ensure our collective contributions to Saskatchewan history are available and accessible to all.
We have also launched an oral history project, focused on gathering stories from 2SLGBTQ+ seniors who have lived in Saskatchewan, in order to create an accurate queer-inclusive story of our collective past. Some of these stories are presented in this journal. If you have a story to share, please contact us at sparkyourpride2022@ gmail.com.
Community Resources:
OUTSaskatoon www.outsaskatoon.ca support@outsaskatoon.ca
UR Pride Centre for Sexuality and Gender Diversity www.urpride.ca
2 Spirits In Motion Society of Saskatchewan www.2spiritsinmotion.com
2 Spirit Alliance of Saskatchewan www.2sas.ca admin@2sas.ca
TransSask www.transsask.ca info@transsask.ca
Additional Image Credits
Front and back covers and Pgs. 2, 3, 43: Tomertu, blue glitter trail lights, Stock Photo ID62375881, used with a Shutterstock StandardLicense. Pg.4, 54-55: Mirror Flow, Decoration bokeh glitters background, Stock Photo ID: 1683786994, used with a Shutterstock Standard License.
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Saskatchewan History & Folklore Society - 46th Year of Publication
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