Pride

Like so many of us, I have gotten wrapped up in the problems right in front of me and lost sight of the bigger picture. WebbSprout Learning Programs has demanded nearly every ounce of my energy this year, but 🏳️‍🌈Pride always reminds me where I came from and why I do this work.

I have celebrated 🏳️‍🌈 Pride every year since 1997, and I still have the mug on my desk from those early days. I also have a newspaper clipping from Seoul in 2001. It identifies me as “Jennifer Webb, 20, Canadian Lesbian.”

I never described myself that way, and I certainly was not interviewed about Canadian Pride festivals or government funding, despite what the article suggested. In fact, I remember saying very little to the reporter. I was 25, not 20 🤷🏻‍♀️.

Somewhere between giving my name and having my photograph taken, someone else decided who I was and what I believed.

One of my students proudly brought the newspaper to school the following week.

“Jennifer Teacher! You’re in the paper!”

I laughed and kept the clipping as a teaching piece on how we shouldn’t trust the Korea Times…

Today it reminds me how easy it is for other people to tell our stories for us, especially if we aren’t taking the opportunityto tell our own.

I might not always post publicly sbout Pride or the work I do, but that’s often because I’m so focused on doing it, i forget to take photos or promote it.

I lived in Korea for twenty years, and I watched Pride grow from a small and vulnerable gathering into something that attracted national attention and fierce opposition.

I witnessed protesters lying down in the street to stop the parade. I watched Christian groups blast us with loudspeakers in a battle for dominance while surrounded by an indomitable wall of young Korean men completing their mandatory military service, standing shoulder to shoulder to keep everyone safe.

I always wondered how many of those young men wished they were wearing rainbows instead of uniforms.

I have been on the front lines, and I have also been sidelined.

Coming home to Saskatoon after twenty years abroad, I expected 🏳️‍🌈 Pride to feel like coming home too. Before I left, I helped shape what is now the USSU Pride Centre with so many incredible people who continue to do great things. I believed the ‘Safe Space’ signs in schools where I was subbing were a sign of progress… I was optimistic.

Instead, I saw how unsafe our schools truly are. I was forced to deadname kids as a substitute since they’re under 16 and our government is interfering with kids’ rights to their own identity.

I tried to find my voice to share my story, but my body had other ideas.

I have been back for five years and each year Pride has been a struggle for different reasons. The logistics of managing such a challenging event on top of all the regular challenges of being a disabled entrepreneur have been incredibly difficult … last year I thought I’d outsmarted the system with a comfy chair on a WebbSprout float, but the effort it cost derailed my health and energy so much, I lost several months of productivity as a result. Although it was pretty awesome to view my hometown from that vantage as kids waved and shouted “Hello, Ms. Webb”.

Webbsprout is how I keep advocating and showing up when my body decides it’s had enough.

I’m a mentor who believes every child deserves to be known for who they are, not for who someone else assumes them to be. They deserve curiosity before judgment, consent before compliance, and the opportunity to tell their own story.

Perhaps that is why that little newspaper clipping has stayed with me for twenty-five years. It reminds me that being seen is not the same as being understood, and being labeled is not the same as being known.

My goal in life has always been to help make the world worthy of the wonder in a small child’s eyes. When I was a child, very few people noticed what I needed. Now I notice too much.

I cannot stay silent anymore. This is only part of my story, but I’m telling it for myself.