Opinion

Our community gets a bad rap. Sometimes deservedly so, sometimes not.

We’re the second-largest city in Manitoba, but we’re often rejected by those who live within the Perimeter Highway as a rural rump. Small city, small thinking, small-c conservative and generally closed-minded. In the grips of the Old Boys Club that runs city hall.

Perhaps you’ve heard these before.

This perception may come with the territory, but some of this criticism has been on point, particularly for those who believed they had no choice but to leave their hometown.

Last week, this paper recounted the stories of multiple individuals who grew up in Brandon within the last 40 years. Members of the LGBTQ+ community, these former Brandonites recalled what it was like growing up queer while trying to survive our school system.

Take the story of Allan Tyler, who left Brandon in 1989 because he believed it was a hostile place to grow up. Being openly gay as a teen was a dangerous prospect due to the stigma that came along with it, particularly in small cities like Brandon.

Now a psychologist and academic working for London South Bank University in the United Kingdom, where he has written about LGBTQ+ mental health in England, Tyler also collaborates with the Croydon Safeguarding Children Partnership, a group in the south of England that educates and supports workers like teachers, emergency responders and mental health professionals tackle queer issues.

During a recent visit to Brandon, he snapped a picture of a sign outside of Knox United Church commemorating the Transgender Day of Remembrance. In a conversation with the Sun, he said he never thought he would see such a sign on display in his hometown.

Tyler has clearly made a home for himself away from his hometown and has found success beyond our city and province.

As a Grade 11 nonbinary student six years ago, Navan Forsythe (who uses they/them pronouns) made a presentation to the Brandon school board asking for more gender-inclusive washrooms and for division staff to receive ally training to understand issues raised by queer students.

Speaking from their home in Edmonton, Forsythe said these concerns were not followed up by the division. The support they needed and had asked for simply wasn’t there.

Then there’s the story of Kent Ranson, a former student in the Brandon public school system in the 1970s and ’80s who graduated with a science degree from Brandon University in the early ’90s. Now a medical doctor and health economist with the World Bank in Switzerland, he told the Sun he “came out almost the minute I moved away from Brandon.”

That any of these individuals felt compelled to leave, having little choice because of the nature of our community — how else can you see that belief but as a moral judgment upon Brandon’s reputation?

Yes, of course, there are other reasons people move to larger centres. Better opportunities, more money and public exposure. But wouldn’t Brandon have been stronger with these individuals than without? Could we not have benefited from their experiences and their insights?

We saw a glimpse of a better way forward on Tuesday night, in a room packed with mostly allies and supporters who were there to defend members of the LGBTQ+ community who were unfairly maligned during a presentation to the Brandon school board a few weeks ago.

As has been widely reported, Lorraine Hackenschmidt — a former trustee of the division in the early ’90s — told trustees that books discussing subjects like gender identity and sexual health are not appropriate for children to read about. She equated the subject matter with sexual grooming and pedophilia — arguments that have been brought forward by bigoted individuals in several American states as a means to ban books they deem to be pornographic in nature.

But Tuesday night took on a greater significance for this community. The board meeting became a venue for people to express who they are, to tell us their lived experiences and help the public understand their reality.

Vincent Massey High School student Jason Foster, who was one of several presenters before the school board Tuesday evening, tested our community this week, telling those assembled in his school’s gymnasium about his experiences as a transgender boy. He highlighted the abuse and suicidal thoughts he experienced throughout his adolescence, and how he continued onward thanks in part to the LGBTQ+ books and educational content available in our local school and city libraries.

Clearly, his short life has been just as hurtful and difficult as those lived by Tyler, Forsythe and Ranson who came before.

Beyond the school board’s landmark decision to refuse a call to ban books, we may still at some point be forced to consider the finer points and grey areas that remain outstanding, such as the potential breach of board meeting protocols, and whether the division’s presentation rules should be revisited.

And we’d be fools to think that concerns over the queer content of books in our libraries are now a settled issue. With byelections coming up shortly for two open positions around the board table, it’s more important than ever that our community pay attention to what’s going on, and who’s on the ballot.

But it must be said that the Brandon of 2023 is not the Brandon of 40 years ago. Maybe it’s not even the Brandon of six years ago. And we can hope that, after such a strong show of support, teens like Foster won’t believe that the only way for them to feel welcome in their community is to find a new one to call home.