It’s high time people stopped opposing Pride events

There is something profoundly disappointing — and frankly exhausting — about the fact that holding a Pride parade is still controversial in parts of Canada in 2026.

Not illegal, dangerous or disruptive — just controversial.

That’s the word that still clings to a simple, peaceful march by LGBTTQ+ people and their allies who want to be visible in their own communities. Nowhere is that more evident than in southern Manitoba, where the City of Winkler is carefully distancing itself from the Pembina Valley Pride parade planned for June — even as the mayor urges residents to respect those who take part.

Comments made by Mayor Henry Siemens are revealing.

“Council and I don’t personally support all of the beliefs or ideologies of the various groups or events that might take place in Winkler,” he wrote, while adding the city supports people’s individual freedom to plan and host their own events.

On one level, this is a civics lesson: in a free society, municipalities don’t get to veto lawful assemblies just because some people don’t like them. On another level, it’s a reminder of how low the bar still is.

We’re still at a point where some elected officials feel compelled to publicly clarify that allowing a Pride parade does not mean they “endorse” it — as if the mere presence of LGBTTQ+ people in a public space is something from which they must carefully step back.

Imagine the city issuing a disclaimer every time there’s a Santa Claus parade, a church picnic or a Canada Day celebration. “Just to be clear, council doesn’t personally support all of this.” It’s absurd.

And yet Pride still gets treated as something vaguely suspect, something that needs to be tolerated rather than welcomed.

That’s not just disagreement, that’s a fundamental misunderstanding of how rights work. It’s also homophobic.

The reaction to the Winkler announcement says a lot. Many residents echoed the mayor’s emphasis on freedom and respect. Others went further by arguing the city should not allow the parade, calling it sinful, filthy or something the mayor should “control.”

That’s not just disagreement, that’s a fundamental misunderstanding of how rights work. It’s also homophobic.

As Pembina Valley Pride president Pauline Emerson-Froebe put it: “There are queers in Winkler.” That statement shouldn’t be provocative. It should be obvious.

LGBTTQ+ people live everywhere — in cities and suburbs, on farms, in Bible Belt towns and on gravel roads between them.

The idea that Pride is somehow imported from outside, imposed on an otherwise “pure” community, is a convenient fiction. It erases the reality of people who have grown up, worked, raised families and quietly endured isolation in places where being visibly queer can still feel risky.

That’s why Winkler topped last year’s post-Pride survey that asked where the rally should take place next. It wasn’t because organizers wanted to stir the pot, but because visibility matters most where it’s least assumed.

Emerson-Froebe is right when she says Pride events make a difference in the towns that host them; they tell people who feel alone that they are not and they give allies a chance to be visible. In rural areas, where anonymity is tougher and social circles are tighter, that visibility can be life-changing.

It’s also why the loudest online voices shouldn’t be mistaken for the majority. As Emerson-Froebe noted, hateful comments tend to dominate comment sections precisely because they’re loud — and often anonymous.

Meanwhile, quieter supporters, and those who simply don’t see the parade as a big deal, go about their lives.

It’s disappointing that Pride is still controversial… But it’s also telling that Pride keeps moving forward anyway… town by town, march by march.

The irony is that Pride events in southern Manitoba have a track record of being peaceful, positive and community-minded. Last year’s rally in Carman drew about 250 people before being cut short by a thunderstorm. Pushback didn’t hurt attendance; if anything, it motivated more people to show up in support.

Pembina Valley Pride has been doing this since 2019, moving between communities — Morden, Altona, Carman — and building connections along the way.

Emerson-Froebe and her wife, Melissa, have been together for more than 25 years. They run Paul’s Place in Carman, a business that doubles as an arts space and a safe haven for people who feel excluded.

These are not radicals parachuting in to the community. They are neighbours. They are human beings.

So yes, it’s disappointing that Pride is still controversial. Disappointing that mayors feel the need to hedge. Disappointing that some residents still frame basic inclusion as a moral threat.

But it’s also telling that Pride keeps moving forward anyway — town by town, march by march.

No one event defines a community, as Siemens said. How a community responds to its most vulnerable members does say something about its character.

Winkler has a chance to show that respect is more than a carefully worded Facebook post. And for the people who have been waiting a long time to feel seen where they live, that matters more than any disclaimer ever could.

tom.brodbeck@freepress.mb.ca