I’m here to talk about Pride, Intersectionality, and Racism

To note while reading this article: This is the speech I wrote and delivered as the keynote address at Réseau ACCESS Network and Fierté Sudbury Pride’s Community Pride Brunch and Award Ceremony sponsored by RBC and Sunwire in Sudbury, ON on July 14, 2023. For the sake of transparency, there have been some minor edits made since for readability.

Otherwise, this speech was challenging, wonderful, and impactful all at the same time to give - everything else I have to say about it is contained below.

Enjoy.

- Lewis


Hi.

I’m Lewis Perdicou, and I’m here to talk about intersectionality, Pride, and racism.

I was born and raised in Southern Ontario, and originally moved to Sudbury to pursue my Bachelor of Social Work at Laurentian University. During and shortly after my degree I lived in Sudbury for about 5 years and got to call the city home even all throughout the summer times. After my undergrad I moved to Ottawa and completed my master’s degree in Social Work at Carleton University, and eventually ended up moving back to Sudbury. Throughout my MSW I worked with an organization researching, and doing program development and design for organizations in Ontario serving Black youth.

I often hear it said that Sudbury has a way of drawing people back in. I have now lived in Sudbury for an additional 4 years with my dog Alma, I’ve bought my home here, I have started my practice and business here, and surrounded myself with my loved ones – my chosen family – here. I live with my partner, David – who has definitely heard this speech way more times than he ever could have wanted – Alma who holds the position of Head Dog in Charge or HDIC of my practice, and our cat, Kaido, who while newer is slowing clinching the title of Head Cat in Charge.

The international superstar and Queen of Drag herself RuPaul Charles once said that:

“we as gay people get to choose our family and the people we’re around”.

A chosen family is just a strong, and just as real as one related by blood, and as Queer people sometimes we have no choice but to find a chosen family for our survival. This has been the story for generations of Queer people. Family is celebrated at almost every single holiday and occasion, and Pride is the one we created that is intentionally all about ours.

That is why I am here to talk about Pride, intersectionality, and racism. 

As I started to write this speech, I’ll be honest, I struggled a lot. Scrawled across a page of notes I had taken in my notebook while planning this said, “a gentler rhetoric”. I had to sit with

that one because these topics aren’t exactly “gentle”.  I actually even looked up the word “rhetoric” –  

From Toastmasters International, “Rhetorical devices help a speaker express feelings about a subject using articulate persuasion…”

From NPR, “We rhetoricians like to define the idea of rhetoric as any speech that aims at convincing someone of something”.

From this point, I figured that I may as well also look up the word “gentler”. Gentler yielded more interesting results. It is, of course, the comparative form of the word “gentle”. Synonym of mollify, placate, meaning a considerate or kindly disposition, amiable, tender. And the example that piqued my interest the most “a gentle scolding”.

No, I’m not here to scold you all – frankly I don’t have the time, the money, nor the desire. But when I think about the word “scold”, I don’t typically associate it with “gentle”, though clearly and supposedly it can be.

I am not here to scold, I am here to talk about the truth; and the truth can be heavy, the truth can be dense. The truth is not always dressed up and beautiful, and any person who exists at any intersection within Queerness can tell you that it feels complicated. And this is our reality, and this is our everyday lived experience.

As a Social Worker, Psychotherapist who is both Black and Queer I am almost uniquely qualified to talk about intersectionality, Pride, and racism – mostly because I do not have good things to report.

Why does that qualify me?

First let me explain – research shows that any person who exists outside of the majority – that is outside of being white, heterosexual, male, able-bodied (among other things) - is more likely to experience lower health outcomes as a result of their experiences of discrimination.

Perceived discrimination increases the likelihood of both physical and mental health problems. Research evidence suggests that the experience of unfair treatment, rather than the reason for discrimination, is responsible for psychological distress.

That is to say, someone who is queer or someone who is black is not more likely to have mental health concerns based on being queer or black, but actually based on the attitudes, beliefs, unfair treatment, and discrimination received from those around them.

-       9.1 million Canadians (1 in 3) will be affected by a mental illness in their lifetime (report from Stats Canada)

That is a lot of people – and the fraction of those people that are being impacted by mental illness and fall within the intersections of Queer, Racialized, and other minority populations is far too high. Try as we might, because of the world that we live in those numbers are very hard to change.

And that is part of the reason why sometimes I think about leaving my social work practice.

No, not because of clients or colleagues – because of the violence of companies and organizations.

I have always worked in health and mental health care and unfortunately my experience has been one of racism, queerphobia, and discrimination at every turn. I have fought a lot, I have advocated a lot, I have cried and panicked a lot, all culminating in the ultimate question “is it all worth it”.

Sometimes I think about leaving my social work practice because nobody becomes more violent than the people who think that they are/purport to be inclusive, equitable, and anti-racist being told that they in fact are not.

I’m angry that I feel so scared to work for another company. I’m angry that I have to assume that I am unsafe working for other people. I’m angry about the string of people and places that benefit from and wield discrimination, and their contributions to the continuous growth of systems of inequality and structural oppression. 

I’m most angry about the discriminatory people who continue to bring Racialized, Queer, and other typically marginalized people into their psychologically and physically unsafe spaces under the guise and performance of an anti-racist and equity practice.

There is a saying white silence is violence. 

Performance is also violence, and I’ve seen a lot of performance.

So again, why does that qualify me to talk about these things?

Well, when the mental health professional needs a mental health professional who understands their unique needs and experiences when it comes to intersectionality, Pride, and racism, I get to be there for me.

When the person out there needs a mental health professional who understands their unique needs and experiences when it comes to intersectionality, Pride, and racism, I get to be there for them.

And when the mental health professional can no longer help themselves but continues to help their clients – well, then there’s my therapist.

In both my personal and professional lives, I interact with Racism and Queerphobia every single day, and one day I’d really really love to not interact with those things in either of these domains – and that’s why I’m here to talk today about Pride, intersectionality, and racism.

I’m going to ground us in a little bit of theory because I don’t do anything without a reason – so bear with me.

The Center for Intersectional Justice defines intersectionality as the following:

“The concept of intersectionality describes the ways in which systems of inequality based on gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender identity, disability, class and other forms of discrimination “intersect” to create unique dynamics and effects. . . All forms of inequality are mutually reinforcing and must therefore be analysed and addressed simultaneously to prevent one form of inequality from reinforcing another.”

(https://www.intersectionaljustice.org/what-is-intersectionality)

Remember that.

Now anti-oppression:

Anti-Oppression is a social justice framework that recognizes oppression as existing and being replicated between micro, meso, and macro levels, which uniquely impacts marginalized people.

Donna Baines is a Professor and the previous Director of the UBC School of Social Work. Some of Dr. Baines’ research focuses on anti-oppressive/critical social work theory and practice, and social policy and austerity. She is editor of Doing Anti-Oppressive Practice, co-editor of Orchestrating Austerity and co-author of Case Critical

Dr. Baines refers to anti-oppression in the following way:

“Anti-Oppressive practices are intended to evolve with ongoing changes in social conditions and challenges; it offers a framework through which we can understand social problems and their underlying structural factors, as well as respond to them in a way that considers our own social location, challenges oppressive policies and practices, and is oriented toward social justice.”

Remember that too.

We cannot do intersectionality without anti-oppression, and anti-oppression does not exist without intersectionality.

And Pride does not exist without intersectionality and anti-oppression. When we talk about Pride we often talk about celebration, community, and allyship, but we all too often forget the trauma, fighting, advocacy, violence, and exclusion.

Pride is not for everyone. Without the intentional consideration and application of intersectionality and anti-oppression to Pride, it isn’t even safe for everyone.

I want to be very specific that when I say safety, I do not mean the absolute lack of risk for harm. That’s not what safety means. There can be risk involved with safety, however, where the risk of self-disclosure outweighs the benefits, safety does not exist. Therefore, in a society and within a system where we know that discrimination and systemic racism are so deeply entrenched, there exists no safety. Pride is no exception to that.

On June 30th, 2023 Black Lives Matter Sudbury released the following statement which can be read on their website:

 

BLM-Sudbury - Pride is a Protest

 

In response to this, Fierté Sudbury Pride released a statement cancelling the Pride March in solidarity with BLM-Sudbury and apologized for not planning the march with the values of anti-oppression and anti-racism in mind.

Interestingly, as part of this statement it was pointed out that Fierté Sudbury Pride was attempting to align themselves with City By-Laws and working within oppressive systems in order to keep their Board Members safe against legal and financial repercussions.

Two things jumped out to me here –

One being the identification that the organization was attempting to work within oppressive systems in order to protect their own Board Members, which I cannot, and do not fault.

However, this is why I am talking about anti-oppression and intersectionality today – if we considered these values and frameworks when it came to Pride, it is evident that those actions that protected Board Members, actually caused additional threat, harm, and lack of safety where the risk of harm outweighed the benefits to those Racialized people who would have attended that march.

The second being the identification of City By-Laws and restrictions through the Highway Traffic act that do not allow organizations to use city roads without police in place as traffic control/police presence. This is a clear demonstration of how systemic racism is baked into the foundation of all of our institutions and policies and laws that govern those. These By-Laws and restrictions have a direct impact on Black, Indigenous, and Racialized people in this context, and until we use an anti-oppressive framework to re-examine the way that we do things and the ways that we have created our systems and structures, inequalities will continue to exist.

Many cities, organizations, companies, provinces, places in general over the last several years have started to commit themselves more and more to Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion. There has been the creation of EDI Panels, Anti-Racism Policies, Anti-Oppression Policies, and talks – much like this. People have finally started to pay attention to the data or lack thereof of racialized and otherwise marginalized people’s interactions with police services, as well as the rampant and publicized racism and violence in these organizations, their practices, and policies.

It is not enough to attend the talk, or the march, to have the policy or the panel. These things mean nothing when instances such as the aforementioned happen – they do not pause reconciliation or reparation; they set them back.

That is why I am here to talk about Pride, intersectionality, and racism. 

I run a workshop on critical allyship – which is a topic I’ll be covering in a bit – and I once had a participant ask me how we could invite people into these conversations, on intersectionality, Pride, marginalization, in a way that doesn’t come across “combative”. The wording of this question struck a heavy blow. Many Black people will be able to tell you that we have a checkered past and present with terms like “combative” and “aggressive” as these terms have been used and wielded as a weapon of White Supremacy to try to justify their harmful rhetoric of us being less than human.

I thought about my response carefully, and my answer was that we don’t owe you not being combative, we don’t owe inviting anyone into this conversation in the kindest, gentlest, most inviting way.

We have been there; we have done that. People didn’t listen then; people don’t listen now.

It has been proven time and time again that inviting people into this conversation in the kindest and most gentle of terms does not work; the rhetoric that people would listen if the message was just delivered “nicer” – is false.

Currently across both Canada and the United States, there is a growing wave of anti-Queer hatred. While this wave absolutely has a negative and devastating impact on adults in the Queer community, it is trans and non-binary children and youth who seem to be the primary target of impact.

There have been hundreds of bills introduced across the US targeting access to medically necessary and age-appropriate gender-affirming care. The Human Rights Campaign has identified these bills as being responsible for 30.9% of transgender youth living in states that now have bans on gender affirming care; some of this legislation is inclusive of youth up to the age of 26 years old.

There are ongoing reports of anti-queer violence and intimidation at various Queer clubs and venues, Pride Events, and Drag Queen Story Hours.

As I mentioned, this wave is not unique to our southern neighbour alone. 

In Parkhill, ON there were protesters at a drag queen story time event at a local library; in Nelson, BC threats and intimidation tactics caused another drag story time to be postponed; on top of various rallies and protests across Ontario, Quebec, and other provinces.

At home, here in Sudbury, ON protesters attended the Rainbow District School Board back in June protesting the supposed “grooming of children” through as they said: gender ideology, pride flags, reading material, trans agenda, political agendas, and sex in schools.

Statistics Canada has reported that the number of police reported hate crimes in Canada rose by 27% from 2020 to 2021, which already followed the 36% increase from 2019 to 2020. These statistics only represent the hate crimes that were reported, not all of them. Our identities are intersectional; if one hate crime exists, they all do.

Various hate groups throughout history have used the same rhetoric of Queerness representing some fabled “danger” to children, have called Queer people dangerous, pedophiles, disgusting, and animals. This level of hatred is often perpetuated by their interpretations of religious texts, and a disdain for those whose sex does not typically lead to procreation.

This level of hate is perpetuated by the idea that Queer people disrupt a certain “way of life”.

Those of you familiar with the Residential School system throughout Canada, the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, different wars and genocides such as in Rwanda and Nazi Germany will be familiar with this rhetoric – because it is the exact same – in these cases it was often about Race, and Ethnicity.

That is why I am here to talk about Pride, intersectionality, and racism. 

I recognize that for some people attending talks like this it can be hard to feel engaged when it doesn’t feel like these issues impact you. I will say that we should all spend a little bit more time caring about issues that we don’t think impact us because we should care about everyone’s humanity.

Additionally, I’m going to tell you – through an intersectional lens – why these issues do in fact impact every single one of us.

Last year, the U.S Supreme Court overturned the landmark case of Roe v. Wade, which was the basis for establishing a constitutional right to abortion. With this decision, the Supreme Court took away the bodily autonomy of millions of American people with uteruses who may have tried to – or even wanted the choice to – access abortion, for whatever reason that may be. Advocates far and wide have recognized that (albeit unfortunately so), countries all over the world tend to follow the US lead, and by overturning Roe v. Wade, there is now less stability in the ongoing access to abortion across the world.

Abortion was decriminalized finally in the US in 1978 with Roe v. Wade. The Women’s Liberation Movement seeking equal rights and opportunities and greater personal freedom for women was throughout the 1960s and 70s in the US. So those who may think something like women’s rights can’t go anywhere because of the historical context, may have thought the same about Roe v. Wade. Scholars and advocates have largely agreed that the decision to overturn Roe v. Wade and take away the right to choose will have larger, and more far-reaching consequences for the rights of women and people with uteruses.

Now think about people who live in poverty who may not be able to afford their pregnancy, who may not be able to afford another child – overturning this decision was a direct attack on people who exist at the intersection of poverty, and people who have uteruses. 

Now think about the following numbers quoted by the Human Rights Campaign of 47% of transgender people who are sexually assaulted at some point in their lifetime; the 65% of American Indian, 59% of multiracial, 68% of Middle Eastern, and 53% of Black respondents most likely to have been sexually assaulted in their lifetime; the 48% of bisexual women who are survivors of rape and experienced their first rape between the ages of 11 and 17, who are all more likely to experience sexual assault and therefore more likely to become pregnant from a sexual assault and would now have no choice but to carry that child to term – overturning this decision was a direct attack on people who exist at the intersection of being Queer, Trans, Racialized, and people who have uteruses.

When it comes to the gender-affirming care that is currently being criminalized and banned across the US, and that protests are happening about in both the US and Canada, gender affirming care impacts and is accessed by far more than just transgender people. Interventions for gender-affirming care include not only biological interventions, but also emotional and interpersonal interventions.

Have you ever spoken about what “makes you a man”? Congratulations, you have done or received gender-affirming care.

Have you ever been prescribed (or taken through things such as work out supplements) hormones such as estrogen, and testosterone for muscle mass, low testosterone levels from aging or health complications, or menopause? Congratulations, you have also received gender-affirming care.

What about considering plastic surgery? Botox? Breast reductions or augmentations? Tummy tucks? Implants? Hair plugs? Again, congratulations – this is all gender-affirming care.

If you still don’t think these things impact you, I promise you that they have or will impact someone that you know.

That is why I am here to talk about Pride, intersectionality, and racism. 

I once saw a post from a fellow Black therapist who said that they had a client ask them how they could get over experiences of Racism and homophobia – that therapist’s response was that you can’t. You can’t “get over it” because that implies that it’s no longer a problem, and many popular therapeutic modalities do not consider conversations such as these – what you can do is move through and past it, and learn how to prioritize and care for yourself the next time that it happens. I have this very conversation with clients several times per week.

Consider the popular therapeutic modality Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT); it focuses on challenging what are called “cognitive distortions” through reframing your thoughts, feelings or actions.

While CBT certainly has its benefits, it also has its limitations in that this therapy will not apply the same to a Racialized or Queer client as it does a White or heterosexual client. While not unique to this modality alone, CBT was developed through research that at the time would have focused primarily on White, Cisgender, Able-Bodied, and heterosexual people – which means that systemic oppression is embedded in the very creation of this therapy.

The challenge here – for example – is that the experience of racism as a Racialized person is not a cognitive distortion, nor is the experience of ableism, homophobia, transphobia, or queerphobia; having a way to reframe your thoughts, feelings, and actions around an experience of any of these things centres you as the problem instead of society or the individual wielding discrimination and oppression as the problem. Ultimately, this is not going to be helpful to you or your mental health.

The existence of racism and Queerphobia whether individual or systemic represent significant experiences of trauma. This trauma shows up individually, with the collective, and vicariously. I am a trauma therapist, which typically entails some basic trauma psychoeducation as I start working with clients and throughout the therapeutic relationship.

So, when we experience trauma, we typically have a stress response – our basic stress responses are fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. As we enter into stress response, our bodies and brains also react to that trauma – we experience a rapid rise in the hormones Cortisol and Adrenaline, we get muscle tension, rapid heart rate, sweating, increase in blood pressure, feeling cold, shaking, increased alertness or sleepiness to name a few changes.

Now what happens when we don’t typically exit a state of stress, when our stress response is constantly firing such as in the case of a person who has to expect something like homophobia at every turn?

Do you remember the poorer health and mental health outcomes I spoke about way back when? Those happen.

As a trauma therapist, something that I don’t often discuss is my own experience with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD. At this time last year, I was fleeing an organization that was deeply racist. I was having daily panic attacks and chest pain that resulted in me crying and hyperventilating. I couldn’t even say the same of this organization out loud with panic overtaking my mind and body. At the same time, I was desperately working to get my own practice off the ground, and prepared to sacrifice my income, my home, my health, and pretty much my sanity in order to have safety from these people.

At that time, it was just enough to tip over the edge of more than a lifetimes worth of racial trauma, abuse, homophobia, queerphobia, and transphobia – and this was when the nightmares, the dissociation, the jump scares, and constant fear and dread really pushed their way into my life.

I’m sharing this experience with you all here today to say that this is why intersectionality is so important, and this is why there simply has to be intersectionality with Pride. I belong to both the same, and different Queer communities as a Queer person who is white, but I still cannot separate out the experiences of discrimination for being Black, or for being Queer because they all have had the same consequences in my life, and I have had to work on healing from them all concurrently and in the same way.

This is not some news story that you are reading in the paper or online, I am right here, right in front of you all, and I am on the other side of a screen from clients just like me every single day.

When I finally admitted to myself that I was queer toward the end of my undergraduate degree, I knew what it would mean for me having grown up in a Black, and a deeply religious household.

I already knew that you don’t get to be both Black, and Queer. I already knew that the religious intersection would not allow me to be Queer either. What I learned about Blackness growing up was almost a hyper masculinity, because anything that was even remotely “gay”, or feminine, was frowned upon and punishable.

The thing that I knew about not being able to be both Black and Queer was that if and when I told my family of my identity, I would no longer have access to that family. Toward the end of my 4th year, I was frantically looking for a job or somewhere to live, because even though my family didn’t know my identity yet, I knew that I could not stand to live back home and couldn’t put myself into a potentially unsafe situation. I thankfully ended up getting a job, then ended up getting into grad school.

When I did finally tell my family about my identity, I got some support, and a lot of opposition – much of it through staunch silence. Suddenly, I was no longer welcome to go back into my family home, nor was I welcome at holidays. I am one of those Queer people who had to find a chosen family for survival.

Since this time, I have chosen to continue the silence, I have created my family, I have set boundaries and expectations, and I have realized that I can, in fact, be both Queer and Black. I don’t have to “choose the cause” because I am Queer, I am Black, and neither of these identities can be removed from the other – on top of that, I don’t WANT to separate out either identity that I am proud of.

That is why I am here to talk about Pride, intersectionality, and racism. 

I run an Instagram page for my practice. On there the other day I asked folks to respond to me and let me know why they think intersectionality is important when it comes to Pride.

Most of the responses I received contained the voices of people who belong at Pride, are Queer too, but seldom represented at Pride. Pride is often represented by the image of a cisgender gay man; earlier I said that Pride is not for everyone, but Pride should be for everyone, and at some point, the world and society decided that Pride was represented by one identity and one identity alone.

Intersectionality is important when it comes to Pride because there are people who experience disability and are also Queer, the Queer community does apply to the Black community, there would be no Pride without the pioneering efforts of Trans women of colour, asexual people need Pride too, lesbians belong at Pride, every Racialized community has Queer people, both children and seniors are Queer.

Look around you here, there are Queer people of every shape and form – we exist and we look like everyone else.

That is why I am here to talk about Pride, intersectionality, and racism. 

Usually this is the part of the talk where I say people typically feel the most uncomfortable, but truthfully y’all are going through it with me today – so if you’ve made it this far, you’ll be okay.

Here is where I talk about power, privilege, and what you can do – critical allyship. I’m going to introduce you to these things through something called the Coin Model of Privilege and Critical Allyship.

The Coin Model looks at systems of inequality, and the privilege and oppression that exist inherent in each one. Individual actions (whether good or bad) are not reflected in the Coin Model, rather each system of inequality is represented by a coin which is a societal norm that gives advantage or disadvantage whether you ask for or are aware of it.

The top of the coin is privilege:

- you have advantage that others do not

- you did not earn it

- you have it because of who you happen to be

The middle of the coin:

- the social structure that produces and maintains inequality

The bottom of the coin is oppression:

- you have disadvantage others do not

- you did not earn it

- you have it because of who you happen to be

If we look around this room, every single one of us has power and privilege in some way. Power is the ability to influence, and make decisions that impact others, and privilege is the unearned advantages and benefits that individuals receive based on identities that they happen to inhabit or are perceived to inhabit. I find that people often hate having this conversation because they are uncomfortable with the power and privilege that they have, and there is a fear that if you acknowledge power and privilege that it would mean you haven't worked hard for the things that you do have.

That just isn't true.

It just means that in relation to others you are more likely to have had an easier time or access to things that others did not.

I’ve talked about myself and my lived experiences a few times throughout this speech – I think we can agree that in some ways, I certainly don’t, or have not had privilege. However, I have power and influence standing up here before you all today, I had the privilege of going to university to get my degrees, I make money, I can own a home, I grew up in a two-parent household, and I have always had access to clean drinking water.

The Coin model also acknowledges intersectionality. A lot of people are going to fall under more than one system of categorization and intersectionality helps us understand how these systems may interact with one another.

You may be on the top of the coin for some systems of inequality, and on the bottom for others. At the end of the day, it does not matter why you have privilege, what matters is how you use it. The intent of the coin model is not to flip people from the side of oppression to privilege or vice versa, because then the system of inequality persists. The intent is to remove the system of inequality entirely.

How you can use your power and privilege in a positive way is through Critical Allyship. When you practice critical allyship you understand your role in upholding systems of oppression, learn from the expertise of historically marginalized groups, and work in solidarity to take action, and work to build insight among others in positions of privilege and mobilizing in collective action under the leadership of people on the bottom of the coin.

Critical allyship involves extra steps beyond standing in front of, beside, or behind a marginalized group in order to actually affect change, instead of sitting complicity in and supporting oppressive structures.

Allyship is not an identity, but a practice that involves:

Knowing your place - Critical allyship is not about you, it is not an identity, and so you need to know your place and listen for when you are wanted and needed to act as an advocate, shield, or support. Your job is to amplify the community you want to show up for.

Education - Take ownership of learning about the communities you are trying to support. Not everyone wants to answer your questions about themselves all of the time, and that's not their job. This extends beyond this talk today.

Humbly accepting criticism - You will get it wrong at some point. Accept that, take in the criticism, and do better.

Emotional experiencing - Expect and accept that emotions will come during this process - and realize that the pain is not yours, it’s called empathy.

I already earlier alluded to performance and performative allyship, but performative allyship - as defined by Anna Fosberg for PennState Law - is based on the idea of self-gratification and does not look at your responsibility within a community; it is disingenuous.

Performative allyship is a great blueprint for what not to do. Performative allyship could be something such as when people posted black squares on Instagram - but stopped there. It could be someone wearing a orange shirt on July 1st - but stopping there. It could be someone wearing pink on anti-bullying day - but stopping there. 

The people you are trying to perform for, the people you are purporting to support, do not get to take down their black square, take off their orange or pink shirt. We and they all enter into every room, every space, as their identity no matter what and are forced to advocate for them and ourselves by virtue of existing.  This is people’s lives and performative allyship is much more than “looking good for self-gratification”, it is so much more than patting yourself on the back or checking off a tickbox of social responsibility without care - it is violence.

Ask yourself: Is my action for me? For others? Or for the group I am trying to support?

That is why I am here to talk about Pride, intersectionality, and racism. 

All of the things that I have spoken about here today are all very real, very frustrating in some ways, and traumatic in others.

I wish I had more positive things to report, but people give that talk every single year. The tagline that I use in my therapy practice is “honest and relational therapy” – because it is an ideal that I truly believe in. I am not, and will not ever be the person to give you fluff, or sugar coating.

This talk is not about naming and shaming, nor about scandal and politics. This talk is about human life, dignity, and lived experience.

This talk is honest, relational, and all of these things are the reasons why I talk about Pride, intersectionality, and racism.  

Thank-you.


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It’s a Systems Thing: Racism in Mental Health