Dispatches
By Matt Roy

From Sad Mag issue 7/8.

Toronto is so big, who knew? When I moved here from Vancouver I instantly found myself a small town boy with a West Coast drawl and not the city man I claimed to be, slowly but surely mapping out the “New York of Canada,” a navigation that included sussing out the gays: “turn left on Church Street,” says my iPhone.

Ten times bigger than Vancouver in practically every way, Toronto has shown me a new version of queer, of community, of responsibility. And I’m learning a lot. For instance, it is not cool to make trans jokes because you have no inkling of who may be trans—especially the hot bear you’ve been chatting with at the bar. My ‘Couve apathy will be the death of me yet.

People take their politics seriously here. With Mayor Rob Ford planning to cut AIDS funding off at the knees, among nearly every other essential social service, queers and generally all compassionate liberal (human) souls are assembling, and I’ve been swept out to sea (or into lake I suppose). Whether I’m marching in Slut Walk, or discussing my role as queer on a rooftop deck, partially (fully) inebriated, there’s no escaping the fact that I’m now a participant and not the voyeur I once was.

Illustration: Parker McLean.