The Turner Files by Wilbur Turner
Every June, like clockwork, the comments roll in: “Why do they get a whole month when veterans only get one day?” “Where’s the veterans’ crosswalk?” “What about straight pride?”
It’s a false equivalency—weaponizing recognition for veterans or straight people to undermine queer visibility, as though we’re in a contest over who’s more deserving of dignity. It’s lazy thinking, if thinking is indeed involved.
Let’s break it down.
Pride Month is in June for a reason. It honours the Stonewall uprising of June 1969—a watershed moment in queer history where 2SLGBTQIA+ people fought back against police violence and persecution. Pride exists not to exclude others, but to create space for people who have been historically and violently excluded. If you’ve never needed a space to feel safe just being who you are, then perhaps consider that a privilege—not a slight.
And to those sincerely asking why queer folks get a month and veterans a day: have you Googled it? There are veterans’ crosswalks. There are months dedicated to military history and remembrance. In Canada, Veterans’ Week takes place every November leading up to Remembrance Day. If you feel veterans deserve more—organize, advocate, create. The queer community certainly did, and still does. Pride Month didn’t fall from the sky. It’s the result of decades of tireless work.
Frankly, the queer community is great at turning struggle into celebration. If that celebration irritates some people, well—maybe one day that irritation will turn into a pearl of wisdom. Until then, we’re not here to shrink so others feel more comfortable in their ignorance.
But this isn’t just about snide comments. It’s about the real-world consequences they represent.
On June 1, 2025, Jonathan Joss—an Indigenous actor best known for voicing John Redcorn on King of the Hill and portraying Chief Ken Hotate on Parks and Recreation—was fatally shot in San Antonio, Texas. His husband, Tristan Kern de Gonzales, alleges that the shooting was a homophobic hate crime. According to Gonzales, the couple had endured years of harassment, including homophobic slurs and threats to burn down their home. Earlier this year, their house was destroyed in a fire, resulting in the loss of three of their dogs.
In a Facebook post, Gonzales recounted the events leading up to Joss's death:
“As we arrived, we found the skull and harness of one of our dogs, leading to severe emotional distress. Then the suspect yelled violent homophobic slurs before opening fire. Neither of us were armed.”
Gonzales emphasized that they had reported the harassment to law enforcement multiple times, but “nothing was done.” The San Antonio Police Department has stated that, as of now, there is no evidence to classify the shooting as a hate crime, but the investigation is ongoing.
Pride Month isn’t just parades and rainbows. It’s a visible stand against the kind of hatred that killed Jonathan. It’s a reminder that we are still here, still fighting, still vulnerable. The worst part? So many attacks on our community begin with words. Words online, words in anger, words that imply we’re asking for too much by simply being visible.
Pride isn’t what’s threatening. What’s threatening is the demand that queer people return to silence.
To those shouting "what about the veterans?"—you’re aiming in the wrong direction. Pride doesn't dishonour veterans. Many queer people are veterans. They’ve fought wars abroad and at home, often without the recognition they deserve. These false binaries—Pride or veterans, inclusion or tradition—are tools of division. You don’t have to pick sides when you can choose compassion.
And here’s the final truth: the queer community shows up. We plan, fundraise, fight for permits, decorate, invite, rally, and celebrate. Year after year, we put in the work. So if you're wondering why Pride has a month—maybe ask yourself what kind of world we’re building that still needs it.
What we need isn’t less Pride, but more heart. Celebrate boldly this Pride Month!
~ Wilbur Turner is a political strategist and community advocate based in Kelowna, British Columbia, with deep roots in Alberta. With experience on the ground in federal and municipal campaigns, and a passion for civic engagement, Turner offers sharp, accessible insight into the political and social issues shaping our region and country. He was selected by the University of British Columbia for an Honorary Doctor of Laws for his significant contribution to the community. He also writes articles as QueerGranddad on Substack.
